softcursechoso

[softcursechoso]

The Oracle: Ch. 2

JJK x Reader Toji x Reader Shiu x Reader

18+ ONLY // MDNI // JJK SPOILERS FROM THIS POINT ON

Words: 6k+

Ch. 2 Warnings: Suggestive talks, brief nudity, explicit language

TIME IS MONEY

Aoi Grand : 4:03pm : Kabukicho

“Holy shit! Did I fuck you last night?!” You woke up breathless.

Currently you were in the most comfortable bed you’d ever slept in. Soft mattress, memory foam pillows, and a heated blanket beneath your thousand stitch sheets.

There was a beautiful view from where you were. Nothing but a bustling city below, though you’d not see it as the blackout curtains were pulled almost all the way shut. The room was gorgeous. Decorated in neutral tones, with a long couch placed in front of the window. 

A gorgeous room surrounded you: neutral tones, a sleek long couch facing away from the window, blackout curtains drawn just enough to leave the city lights as a faint glow. Fresh flowers on the bedside table. A chandelier overhead.

But on the floor? Empty bottles, greasy plates, and clothes strewn about. What the hell happened last night?

“Did you fuck me?” Toji scoffed from the other side of the bed, smirking. “Don’t flatter yourself. You couldn’t handle me. But, uh… to answer your messy little question—no. We didn’t fuck… I think.”

He sounded so confident until the end. What the fuck was that? He was only offended by you ever suggesting you could top him? That’s not even what you meant! Besides, you definitely could.

“Nice tits though.” He added casually.

Upon further inspection, you did find that you were topless in nothing but black panties you definitely didn’t own fifteen hours ago.

You frowned as you pulled the blanket up to your chest, “Don’t look at my body! I don’t know you! Lemme see your dick then!”

“Sure.” The man shrugged.

“No!” You shoved a pillow over the man’s face. “Stop!”

“This is getting really weird.”

You freeze as you hear a new voice.

“I can confirm that you two didn’t do anything last night.” A once quiet Shiu Kong spoke from the couch near the window. 

He was halfway seated on the top of the couch. His suit jacket slung over his shoulder and clutched by one hand. He’s watching the both of you with extreme disinterest. There is an untouched glass of whiskey on the small bar cart beside him.

Damn… why is he kinda…

“Who the fuck are you?!” You quickly gathered the blanket and covered yourself even more. 

“Shiu.” Toji groaned as he rose up in the bed. Too groggy and hungover to be confused as to why the man was here.

“Shiu?” You repeat.

“Yeah, and you are the woman Toji was supposed to kill 15 hours ago.” He smugly perked an eyebrow as he looked at you.

“She’s worth more to me alive.” Toji was quick to stand up for you- or rather, stand up for the choice he made in not sending you to your grave. "Won big last night because of her."

The brown haired man nodded, “Yes, I know. Won, as in past tense. Shame you spent all of your winnings on this luxury suite and booze.”

“We what?!” You nearly screamed, “There’s no way! We won 1,000,000 yen! How the hell could we spend all of that in one night?! I just got fired yesterday! I have bills to pay!”

Last thing you could remember was immediately going out for a drink with Toji after you two won big. Actually, you remembered having a few drinks. You guys celebrated hard. Somewhere down the line you two decided to get a hotel room- which was responsible, but how did it rack up to 1,000,000 yen? You couldn’t understand.

“You both have this suite for two nights..” Shiu began to debrief you. “Spent some money on liquor, room service, and clothes.”

“Wait, were you with us last night?” You asked.

The man shook his head, “No, this is everything you both told me.”

Both? Why? You didn’t know him. Why did you talk to him? When?!

He’d remove his jacket from his shoulder and toss it over to you, “Get dressed for lunch you two. We have some things to discuss.” He’d adjust his cuffs.

From the way he spoke you could tell that he was on your side. Seeing as Toji didn’t protest his being here, he trusted the man too. Shiu was a straightforward man, but something told you that this two man operation was about to turn into three. 

"I'll be downstairs waiting." Shiu walked toward the door and made his exit. You three had quite the chat ahead of you, clearly.

“Are we fucking idiots?” You looked over at Toji, “We spent all that money in a matter of hours?”

He nodded, “Yeah, we blew it.”

The worst part was that you couldn’t even remember the good time you had. If you were going to blow a million in a few short hours, you at least wanted a fun story out of it.

You began to put on Shiu’s jacket. It smelled nice, like cologne- but if you smelled deep enough it also smelled like cigarettes and that wasn’t so pleasant. 

“We’ll just have to use that lil foresight of yours to win it all back.” Toji spoke as he stretched his arms upwards.

“I told you my ability isn’t foresight, and also, that’s not how it works.” You closed your eyes tightly and opened them once again to read his probability, “Your aura, it’s still pitch black. I’m not too sure where you’ll have your next lucky stroke.”

“What?!” The man spoke through his teeth. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“How do you remember what I said last night?! You were piss drunk blowing all the goddamn money!” You yanked the blanket off of yourself and threw it partially over him.

“Well you better make some magic happen soon. That bounty on your head is still active and I won’t hesitate to cash in if you don’t follow through on your end.”

You shook your head as you made your way to the bathroom. So much for partners until the very end. Then again, that did make sense- the end being you no longer having use to him. Great to know that shit was still on the table.

You were too irritated to even reply to such a comment. Instead you’d shower up and get ready for your meeting with Shiu. You only hoped that the clothes you bought last night were actually nice. Hopefully your drunk self still had a sense of style.

You made quick work of the shower and wasted no time at all. Washing your hair and throwing it up in a bun. You didn’t want this Shiu guy to wait. 

His jacket was comfortable, so you decided it’d be a part of the attire you’d wear to lunch. Paired with a short black pleated skirt that barely peaked out from underneath the jacket, black stockings, and black platform heels. Simple but cute. 

“Takin’ so fucking long in here.” Toji spoke as he barged into the bathroom.

“Excuse you! I could have been naked!” You hastily turned toward the bathroom door.

“I’m not waiting one more second.” He looked at your attire, “You’re really wearing his jacket?”

“Jealous?” You smirked. 

The man rolled his eyes, “I don’t give a shit about that. Anyway, if you’re gonna keep pretending like you don’t wanna see my dick then get out. I’m about to take a shower.”

“Maybe I do wanna see it.” You crossed your arms as you were firm in your stance, only, it didn’t last very long as you noticed he really was about to undress in front of you. His hands reach for his belt, pulling it from the loop.

Toji Fushiguro- a man with no shame.

“Stop! I’m leaving!” You headed for the bathroom door once more, “I’m going downstairs to meet up with this Shiu guy. If you’re downstairs in less than ten minutes then I’ll know you’re a dirty bastard who didn’t really wash.”

“Quit acting all high and mighty. If you wanna time my showers so bad then why don’t you hop in here and make sure I’m clean?”

“Ew Toji!” You said ew, but you didn’t really mean it. “I already took my shower. You’re too late.”

The banter between you two was interesting. You knew him for less than a full day and yet you felt like this was a man you really knew. Maybe it was because of the vision you saw when you first met him. There was either something very good or very bad at the end of this rabbit hole.

You’d collect your cell phone and purse before making your way out of the hotel room. This place was truly so nice. You still had regrets about spending so much money on this hotel but in the meantime you’d enjoy it.

Shiu said to meet him for lunch downstairs, so that clearly meant the restaurant here inside the hotel, right? That would make the most sense. You went down the elevator and spruced yourself up in the mirrored wall as you did. You looked pretty, no makeup and all- though you wished to have at least put some on before Toji practically kicked you out.

The elevator doors opened and you searched for the restaurant. Luckily the signage and helpful staff made it pretty much impossible to get lost. 

The hotel’s restaurant is sleek, modern, and almost too quiet for this time of day. You scan the room, spotting Shiu easily. He’s seated on a couch near the large windows- away from other patrons. He’s got one arm draped over the backrest as he smokes a cigarette. 

His eyes briefly connected with you, and you could tell from that alone he was a man about business. Not like you couldn’t tell that before.

You took a seat on the couch with him, leaving the chair across from you for Toji. For now you'd put your feet in said chair so long as he wasn't in it. Probably inappropriate for a fancy place but oh well.

Looked like he ordered some tea ahead of time. Kind of him.

“Ginger tea?” You grabbed the teapot and began to pour yourself a cup.

“You said it helps you with hangovers.” The man spoke before taking a drag of his cigarette.

“I don’t remember saying any of that. I said that upstairs just now?” You arched an eyebrow. 

“You have loose lips when you’re drunk. Told me everything.”

“So I told you that ginger tea helps when I have a hangover and you ordered it for me? A man that listens actively and lends me his jacket. How the hell did a gentleman like you get mixed up with a thug like Toji?” You placed your lips to the teacup and took a light sip of the scorching liquid.

“Simple…” Shiu flicks ash off his cigarette and turns his head to fully look at you. “I’m not a gentleman.”

You don’t know why, but something about the way he says it sends a shiver down your spine.

“As for me and Zen’in- we do business together.” He’d exhale the smoke opposite your direction.

“Zen’in? That’s not what he called himself—and what business is that?” Your eyes swept over the table before gazing into Shiu’s.

“The kind that collects for the bounty on your head.”

Your fingers tighten around the hot porcelain cup. For some stupid reason it’s not fear that spikes through you, but curiosity. Did you serendipitously get involved with two high end thugs? Well maybe one high end thug and a street rat.

“I was really supposed to die yesterday?”

The man beside you shrugs, “Nothing personal.” 

“Okay but then what?”

His lips twitch in the faintest sign of a smirk, “Then it got interesting.”

“You two are easy to impress.”

Shiu’s eyes connect with your, “Not that easy.” He exhales.

“Careful, Shiu, was it? Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He smirks, “What a problem that would be.”

You clear your throat, “Well, anyway, business must have turned personal at some point if you’re making visits to his hotel room.”

The man speaks, almost amused. “You think I’m the sentimental type?”

You attempt to hide a smile, “I don’t know you, Shiu. I can only gauge from what I learned, and you’re here aren’t you?” 

He doesn’t answer, but you can tell by his body language that he was not ready for your banter.

You hesitate for a second before finally asking, “What exactly did I tell you last night… on the phone I mean?”

“You told me about your ability. That, and a bunch of other rambling.” He shrugged.

“You’re sparing me my embarrassing details. Sweet of you.” You’d take another sip, “I said something about Toji didn’t I? About our future?” You rolled your eyes, “Don’t tell him what I said. He can’t know.”

"I didn't plan to." His eyes shifted and got quite serious as they looked into yours, “Are you sure? I mean about your position in all of this? If what you told me is correct- things will get very ugly.”

“What else am I gonna do, Shiu?” You gave a dramatic shrug, “I can’t run. Besides, from what I saw, the high’s are much better than the lows.”

“I disagree, but that optimism looks cute on you.”

You sucked your teeth, “Then what?” You grinned in a sly manner, “Wanna ditch Toji and run away together?” You were only joking of course.

Somehow you managed to get a genuine laugh out of Shiu. “Tempting. I see why Zen’in likes you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, “What?”

You would let it slide for now, but you were definitely going to run that comment back at some point.

Speak of the devil, here he was now. Black jeans, black compression shirt and his usual slides. His hair was still a little damp, like he really did take the time to wash properly. 

You knew the man was in shape, but damn you could really see his muscles bulging. Fuck! He was kinda hot. Not that you didn’t know before.

"Stop staring at me like that, woman. You look like a bitch in heat." The big man spoke as he pulled his chair opposite you.

"You first. Do you even know what color my eyes are?" You frowned as you removed your feet from the chair.

The man took a seat, but before he settled in, he'd reach under the table and grab your ankles- bringing your feet into his lap like they previously were before he got there. He already knew he'd have to hear about it later if he didn't. Dumbass man- predicting your mood correctly.

"Alright, let's be serious now." Shiu spoke- putting out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "You still have an active bounty on your head. As it stands that bounty is at an incredibly low ¥500,000, so I doubt anyone else will try to kill you right now."

"That's the number?!" You sat up straight in shock as you looked at Toji, "Are you that broke you little cheapskate ass bitch?! A paycheck is just a paycheck to you no matter how many zeros are on it, huh?"

"I didn’t kill you did I? And it's only low because they know your weak ass wouldn't be a challenge." The man leaned in just a bit, lightly squeezing your calf.

Who gave him the right to put his hands on you? You weren’t protesting though- outwardly or inwardly. Damn this man!

"Keep your voice down." Shiu hushed you. "We're in a public area still."

Yeah, you were in a public space talking about extremely sensitive information. Your best guess as to why is because it's less suspicious. Hiding in plain sight. Also- Shiu picked a table that no one was near so you could talk pretty freely.

"He is correct though." The man continued, "Your bounty is very low because you aren't technically a sorcerer. You can see curses, and you have the cursed ability of foresight, but you're a non-fighter."

You placed your teacup down and put your fingers on your temples, "Okay wait- what? First of all, it's not foresight. Second, how do you have all of this information? Third, who would want me dead so bad if I'm not a sorcerer?"

"Who it was will remain confidential." Shiu looked at you. "As for the intel, it's sloppy work not to know whose life you're ending."

"And Toji's not a sloppy man." You grinned as you mocked his words from last night. "But anyway, what does this all mean?"

“Ten billion yen.” Toji looked at you intensely, “Ten billion yen and I’ll cut you loose.”

Shiu’s eyes drift between the both of you, watching the exchange carefully.

Your eyes narrowed, “And just so we’re on the same page- we’re talking about ten billion across multiple lifetimes, or-”

“In one year.” Toji continued, “Ten billion in one year, and we’ll never have to see each other again.”

“One year?!” You whispered loudly, “I feel fucking sick. So what? We just keep hitting up casinos and hoping you win a million yen every night? Even if that did happen. Say you win that much every single night without a break- it would still take… almost thirty years to get to ten billion.”

“We can always cut our losses now. I could kill you and get that reward money.” Toji shrugged.

“That’s not fucking funny.” You flipped the man off.

Shiu exhales, “If I may? What Zen’in means is that right now you’re more useful alive than dead. You’re a risk, but you’re also an asset.” He tilts his head slightly. “An investment.”

“This is crazy.” You place your hands over your face, stressed.

“You said his luck was bad. Worst you’d ever seen, but last night when you touched him you were able to see a future that did not exist.” Shiu chimed in again. “Those were your words.”.

Your heart raced as he spoke. He just said that he wasn’t gonna tell Toji about the future you saw with him, and now here he was bringing it up. You were so tense!

“A future where he won a million yen on a random slot machine in a casino he’s never been to in the middle of Kabukicho. That was not supposed to be his future. You said so yourself last night.”

How much did you talk to Shiu last night?! Were you kicking your feet and twirling your hair while you were at it? Seemed you two became best friends on the phone somehow. Or maybe he felt it was best to hang onto every drunken word you spewed because it would come in handy later. It was probably that.

You were just grateful that he didn't bring up what you thought he would. That should remain between the two of you.

“Okay?” You rose your eyebrows. 

��Touch me..” 

“What?” Your eyes widened as you looked at Shiu- the fuck?

Shiu held his hand out. “Read my fortune.”

Fortune, he said. As if you were some kind of fortune teller. It was probability, and you weren’t going to keep correcting these dumbasses!

You removed your feet from Toji’s lap so there wouldn’t be any interference. You’d grab the hand of the man beside you and hold it in yours, turning your body toward him a bit. Your eyes closed briefly, and when you opened it again you saw a dark green aura around him. Whatever he was doing right now was very beneficial to him, but beyond that, you didn’t see anything else.

“See anything?” The man asked, holding your hand a bit tighter.

You shook your head, “Nothing.”

“Now touch Toji.”

You turned toward the man and saw his pitch black aura again. Man, that thing looked scary. You stood out of your seat to reach across the table and grab his face. He made no effort at all to scoot forward.

Your eyes shut tightly as you tried to see again. “Stop looking down my shirt, Toji.”

The man snorts, “I’ll stop when Shiu stops looking at your ass.”

Before your hands close in on Toji, you look back at Shiu.

The man doesn’t blink, nor does he offer a rebuttal to Toji’s dumbass claim. 

You turn back and your hands connect with Toji. There it is. You can see it. You. Toji. Money- big money! Gambling! Major connections! Financial freedom…

“We have to go to Kyushu!” You opened your eyes widely as you looked into Toji's. "Fukuoka. In two days… it's gonna be big."

"It's not a coincidence that the situation turned into what it has." Shiu stood up from the couch. 

You’d take a seat again, “You think this was fate?”

“I don’t believe in fate.” He begins to straighten out his shirt. “I believe in opportunity. Out of that 10 billion you will get your cut too. As a result of you winning big however, there will be more eyes on you. If people find out you’re behind this, your bounty will increase. That’s why it’ll be Zen’in’s job to act like the dumb luck is his alone—and to protect you if the situation gets sticky."

"Wait." You grabbed the man's wrist- letting go quickly after. "I know you didn't have this conversation just to be friendly. Tell me- was that some billion yen advice you gave there?"

"Four billion." He nodded, "Not just for the conversation either. To get the wolves off of your scent. I told you that your bounty will increase and I mean it. Fake identities, travel plans, there’s a lot that goes into this. I will earn my share. Don't you worry about it. I'll set up the flights and give you two a call before you head to Kyushu."

"Hold on!" You sat up a little straighter. "I think you might wanna see what's in Fukuoka too..."

The man began to light another cigarette as he turned to you, "That so?"

You nod, "It's up to you, but I'm not so sure Toji and I can pull off what I just saw as a two man..."

Shiu studied you for a moment, eyes locked on yours. "You know I still have a job to do outside of this?"

"What's your hourly? Let me buy you out." Your response came quick. Shockingly so.

A silence filled the air now. Were you being serious? As a self proclaimed broke woman, you had no business offering such a deal. Especially with money that hadn't even been earned yet.

The man smirked as he began to walk away, "I'll give you a call... Take care of her Zen'in."

Your life was never going to be the same from here on out, was it?

Toji's eyebrows knit as he looked at you, "What the fuck was that?"

"What the fuck was what?" You feigned complete ignorance.

"You really need Shiu there or you're just that horny for him?"

"I don't even know him!" You flipped him off once more, "This is about the money. I wanna get to the ten billion as fast as humanly possible so I can go back to regular life. I'm not a smooth talker, and neither are you. The probability suggests that there are certain connections that need to be made if we want big money in Kyushu. Shiu would be the guy for that."

Toji rolls his eyes, "Guess so. He talked you outta your panties in like what- 20 minutes?"

"That's literally not what happened! Look, I am willing to argue with you more, but I'm so hungry right now. Can we please get something to eat?" You frowned.

"With what money?" Toji crossed his arms.

"I refuse to believe that a hotel room costing everything we had doesn't have food included in the rate." You stood up, "So you can either sit here with this tea and subtly try to look at my ass as I walk away, or be not so subtle and come with me."

The man stood up as well, "I wasn't gonna be subtle either way.” He’d stretch his arms upwards, “Let’s just charge a bunch of shit to someone else’s room.”

You snorted trying to hold in a laugh, "I don't know why, but I'm so down for that."

“You complete me, good girl.” He spoke so sarcastically but also not really.

Aoi Grand : 8:59pm : Market

The market was busy, packed with what seemed like every single person in this damn hotel. All of them were stocking up on those late evening essentials. This shop was nice! Just like a luxury hotel market should be.

The smell of fresh produce and grilled skewers lingered in the air. You and Toji are randomly picking up whatever it is that seems good in the moment. Sour worms, chips, instant ramen, canned coffee. Just stuff. 

Toji, of course has no concept of moderation. You catch him grabbing some sandwiches and cakes from the fridge. A bottle of whiskey, some sushi, frozen burritos. Thankfully his arms are big enough to carry all of it.

“Toji, for real? You’re making it obvious.” You sigh, “Whatever-”

When you two get to the front desk, the big man sets it all down and leans against the counter- casual as ever. 

The receptionist rings up the total, and it’s quite a lot. Like a LOT a lot. More than you’d be willing to pay yourself.

“That’ll be ¥16,000.”

Toji tilts his head, “Room 1809.”

The woman doesn’t hesitate and enters the number, charges the bill and prints the receipt without question, “Have a nice day.”

“You too, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his comment as you collect some of the bags from the counter.

The two of you head upstairs, and you’re so excited to eat. You picked up some pretty fancy truffle chips that you couldn’t wait to dig into.

You both step off the elevator now and walk down the hall until you reach your room. It’s then that it dawns on you. 

“Toji.” You stop in front of your door as he fishes for the key. “Which room number did you give her just now?”

The man looks up as he retrieved the key. He glances at the door and blinks. “Fuck.”

“Are you dumb?! Like actually?!” You smack his arm. 

“What are they gonna charge? We don’t have shit.” He shrugs, unlocking the door and opening it.

You opened your mouth to argue, then pause, “I guess that’s a good point. Still, just unimaginable stupidity.”

“You better watch that mouth before I cash in on 500k real quick.”

You roll your eyes at the threat. You shouldn’t. He could definitely do it, but you knew he wouldn’t. 

You both step inside, setting the bags down on the table in front of the couch. You’d flop back on the bed bringing a bag of chips with you, and Toji splayed out on the couch.

With the curtains open, you were able to see the gorgeous city below, and it was quite the site. You better enjoy it now- before you go back to being broke again.

You breathe out lying on your stomach and opening the chips as you look at the man. “You know, we should probably get to know each other if we’re gonna be locked in this partnership. Let’s play 21 questions or something.” 

Toji stretches out a bit more, already chewing on a piece of a sour gummy worm, “Whatever.”

You narrow your eyes, “Glad you’re so excited.”

“What do you wanna ask me?” 

You cock your head to the side a bit, “Mmm, I’ll throw you a light one. Do you have any kids?”

He instantly stops chewing. “I’m not playing this game.”

“What?! Why?!” You prop up a bit, “Oh wow, so you’ll show me your dick but not confirm if you have kids?!”

He raises an eyebrow, tossing another gummy in his mouth. “I’m whipping my shit out if you bring up my dick one more time.”

You smirk, “Must be proud of it. Always trying to show it.”

“You must be proud of your tits.” He replies flatly.

“What?!”

“Showing off for Shiu? I saw how you were looking at him. Not even slick.”

You gasp, clutching your chest dramatically, “I didn’t even know he was there!” You grab a pillow and half hide under it. “You think he saw?”

“Hell yeah he saw.” Toji snickers, leaning back a bit more. “He tries to act normal but he’s a scumbag too. Saw your tits, your asshole-”

Your head jerks up, “My asshole Toji?! That’s fucking vulgar. At most he might have seen some ass cheeks. A little bit!”

“Bend over, I’ll tell you exactly what he saw.” He speaks far too casually for the caliber of this conversation.  

“No!” You reply swiftly… but then the thought settles.

You hop off the bed and go to the couch where Toji is. You get into the same position from earlier as you stand beside him, “I was literally like this. You can’t see anything. You’re being so dramatic.”

Toji leans back as he chews, unimpressed, “Nah, you bent more.”

You adjust just slightly, “Like this?”

“It was more than that.”

You go lower, “This?!”

The man grins, “Oh yeah. Shiu was all up in that ass.”

You straighten immediately, face feeling like it was set ablaze. “He was not looking! Was he really? You could see my ass at that angle?!”

“Why do you sound like that’s turning you on?”

“I’m not!” You hastily retreat back to the bed, grabbing your chips again and stuffing a handful into your mouth. “Alright, come on. Continue the game Mr. may or may not have kids.”

He twirls a gummy worm in his hand for a moment as he thinks. “How many guys have you fucked?”

“Are you being serious?”

“Answer the question, woman.”

You glare, “Why do you care?”

“It was your idea to play this game. Answer it or don’t I don’t give a shit.”

“How about I pass just like you did. We both get a pass. So pass! My turn. What’s your type?”

He doesn’t hesitate as he bites the head off of his next gummy worm, “Mouthy girls who think they’re better than me.”

You huff as you sit criss cross on the bed now. “Fuck off. Anyway, next question. Why did you take this job?”

“You skipped my- whatever. Because it pays well.”

You shake your head, “No, that’s not it. What is it? People don’t just start killing for a living because it pays well.”

He pauses for a moment, “I got debts.” 

“That’s fair.” You take the answer for what it is. It’s not banter for the first time. It’s real. 

You toss a chip at Toji. “Okay, give me a real question this time.”

He attempts to catch it in his mouth but misses. “I did ask a real question. Not my fault you get all flustered over body count.” 

“I wasn’t flustered.”

“Whatever, anyway. Give me your most fucked up intrusive thought.”

You blink, genuinely thinking about the ridiculous question he put forward. “I guess like- when I’m in the passenger seat sometimes I just think- what if I yanked the wheel in oncoming traffic. It’s so strange. I don’t know why. I don’t want that to happen and I would never do it, but I think about it.”

He nods simply as if he was expecting a much worse answer and you didn’t meet the expectation in his head.

“What’s your biggest fear?” You kick your feet now as if you’re a kid at a sleepover.

Toji stands up, stretching once again as he tosses the bag of gummy worms on the couch. “Going broke.”

“You mean staying broke?” You blink, “Last night you pulled out a crumpled 1000 yen note acting like that shit needs to stretch to the end of the week. What the fuck kind of answer is this?”

“What do you want me to say? Spiders? Heights?” He wanders toward the window, “Going broke is real. Rich people go broke all the time. You see what happens to them? Start jumping out of buildings and shit.”

“Oh my God! That took a horrific turn. I don’t like this conversation anymore.” You flop onto your back, “Next question please.”

“What about you? What’s your biggest fear?”

You don’t even have to think about it. “Losing control.”

“Go on.”

You shrug, “I don’t like not knowing what’s going on. I like having a say in my future.”

The man scoffs, still looking out the window. “You agreed to roll with the plan so easily for someone who likes structure.”

“Guess I did.” You don’t elaborate.

“What’s your favorite way to get fucked?” His question takes a dramatic turn.

You could feel your soul leave your body, you were sure of it. “What?”

“What?” He mocks you.

“You skipped my turn!” You frowned.

“And you skipped mine. Go ahead.”

“We went from biggest fear to this?! I’m not answering that!”

The man nods, “So, missionary. Got it.”

“That’s not it, but for argument’s sake I’ll just let you think that.” You needed to steer this conversation back in a normal direction. Hmmm… “Have you… ever been in love?”

You can see his expression shift. Like his mind glanced back to a beautiful life. It’s very brief, but you saw it.

“Nah.” His smirk returns, but much smaller.

“Never?”

He shakes his head without another word. You just watch him for a second, but decide not to push it. It may be a bridge too far. You don’t want him to shut down, but there’s something there.

“This is not the vibe. Let’s end it with something stupid.” You sprawl out on the bed.

“You ever fake an orgasm?” He turns toward you with an arched eyebrow.

“Have I-” You exhale figuring it’s best not to get offended by the question and just answer. “I have.”

“Damn, poor guy. Probably thought he killed it.” 

“Poor him?! Poor me! Don’t feel bad for him.” You grimaced at the thought, “He was so bad, I just wanted it to be over, so I had to make it look like I was spent. I really liked him before that too.”

“You gotta speak up sweetheart. If you’re not getting fucked the way you like and you let that shit slide, that’s on you.” He chuckles, “This was fun.”

You smile wide, “It’s kinda hard to believe I’ve only known you for a day.”

Toji smirks, taking a seat at the edge of the bed now, “Yeah, I have that effect on people.”

You reach out and lazily slap the back of his arm, “You’re comfortable with me too!”

“Says who?

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you usually get this chummy?”

“With people I’m supposed to kill?” He raises an eyebrow.

Your eyes couldn’t possibly roll harder, “No, bitch. In general!”

He doesn’t say anything and that tells you everything. He doesn’t even correct you for calling him a bitch. 

You sit up on your knees, bouncing slightly on the bed, “Aww! Are we besties?!”

“I should have killed you.”

“Too late bestie!” Your grin widens, but slowly your bouncing ceases. “Anyway, what do you think happened last night?”

Toji scratches his jaw, “Probably fucked. Who knows?”

“No!” You think about it. “You really think-”

“We didn’t. But if Shiu was here you were probably fucking him though.”

Your mouth drops open, “First of all, you sound jealous.”

“Second?” He spoke bluntly.

“No.”

“So you wouldn’t fuck Shiu?”

You throw your arms up, exasperated by this conversation. “I didn’t fuck him! He wasn’t even here.”

“That’s not what I asked. The question was would you?” 

You grab a pillow from behind you and smack the man with it. “We aren’t playing 21 Questions anymore! Ugh, let’s just get ready for bed. I saw some cute dresses my drunk self bought that sober me wants to wear soon.”

“Yeah, alright.” The man nodded, “Pack it in good girl. Wouldn’t want you to fluster yourself to death and lose me 10 billion.”

You sigh in relief. The future for you and Toji was already mapped out, but the finer details have yet to be seen. Made you wonder about it, and that thought alone brought a faint smile to your face.

Next stop: Kyushu.

[softcursechoso]

Memoirs from a Gilded Cage: CH. 13

Attack on Titan x Reader

Black!Reader Levi x Reader Erwin x Reader

Masterlist

MDNI 18+ ONLY // NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS

CH. 13 Warnings: Seeeeex, unprotected sex, foreplay, fingering, heavy language, and injury.

Words:

THE COST OF LOVE

The Eternal Thread : 4:00pm : Mitras

You left the estate with your heart hammering, your fingers still stained faintly with your own blood where the bandages had soaked through. 

Your mind won’t stop racing. Not about Cassius’ sneer or Tinsley’s wide-eyed shock. Not about the declaration you just made. It was liberating. It was terrifying.  

“Moritz.” You stop just short of your shop. “No visitors. No matter who it is. Not today. Tell the next shift as well.”

Your Military Police escort straightens stiffly, caught off guard by the command in your voice. He hesitates only a moment before nodding. “Yes, my lady. As you wish.”

You don’t wait for more before heading inside—shutting the door gently behind you. You limp the last few steps, the pain in your side making every movement sharp and deliberate as you slip inside.

The blackout curtains are still drawn and the shop is dim. You’re safe now. 

For a second, you just stand there, your breathing harsh in the quiet, your pulse in your ears. You set your bloodied dress by the stairs where you stand. You’ll be back for it in a moment, but for now you have more business to take care of.

It doesn't take long before you move. Past the displays, past the rows of gowns that glitter in the half-light. You limp toward the back to your workshop.

The chair behind your sewing desk creaks when you drop into it. The long mirror catches you in your peripheral vision, but you don’t look just yet. You can’t.

Instead, you pull it from your desk drawer—Erwin’s letter. You lay it flat on the desk, stare at his neat handwriting for just a moment before you lift it and press it to your lips.

Your hands shake as you set it down and reach for fresh parchment and a pen. The ink nearly splatters from the tremor in your fingers.

Erwin Smith was one of one. A man who was strong and commanding, but he was careful with you. A man who made you feel seen and heard. A man that made you feel safe outside of your home. He was your shield, and that’s why this letter was going to be very difficult to write.

You take a breath. Steady yourself… and then you begin to write.

_________________________________________________

Erwin,

I want to thank you for the necklace. I haven’t taken it off since it arrived. I wear it close—always.

More importantly,  thank you for the time you’ve lent me. For your patience. For your kind words.

I appreciate the vividness of your letters. When I close my eyes, I can see myself living a life outside of Mitras. A freer one. A better one.

Perhaps if things were different, I think I would have found you there. I think we could have found each other. Maybe in another life, we would have had the time to talk until the sun rose, to share all the little moments I keep locked away from everyone else.

But this isn’t that life, and I can’t ask you to wait for someone who might not make it to see another sunrise. I won’t. Just know, you have no idea how greatly your presence has impacted me even in the little time we had.

So please… keep fighting for the world you believe in. You’ll change it, Erwin. I know you will.

—Yours

The last word blurs as tears streak down your cheeks, hot and relentless. You set the pen aside with a trembling hand, bow your head, and press your lips to the edge of the paper. One soft kiss, staining it faintly.

Then you fold it carefully, sealing it with hands that won’t stop shaking.

Finally, you cry. Not loudly, not hysterically—just silent, trembling sobs that you can’t seem to stop, your shoulders curling inward as the weight of everything you’ve lost, everything you’ve chosen, presses down on you all at once.

The sewing machine sits silent beside you. The gowns sparkle faintly in the filtered workshop light. Then there’s you—alone in your shop, in your sanctuary—feel like you’ve just said goodbye to something you never even got to have.

You allow yourself this moment, but you know that you must move on hastily. As much as you feel alone in this shop, you aren’t.

You get up and finally allow yourself to stand in front of your full length mirror. You take a breath shallow, staring at the mess of yourself. You unbutton the night gown and look at yourself, truly.

Dried blood streaks from the stitches at your ribs, running dark down your side, over your hip, all the way to your bare foot. The broken threads pull at swollen skin, and every breath feels like knives.

Still, you can’t look away. You’re a disaster, and yet some stubborn part of you lifts your chin.

The fabric is stiff where the blood has dried, crusted dark and ugly against the once-beautiful material.

You make your way out of the workshop and limp toward the door, teeth gritted against the sharp pull of pain in your side. The hallway feels longer than usual, every step dragging, until you reach the stairs.

The same stairs you used to fly up and down as a child. Now, they’re a goddamn mountain.

You grab the railing with one hand, and your previously discarded dress with the other. You then pull yourself upward one step at a time. Your legs tremble by the time you reach the top, but you don’t stop. You drop the stained dress just outside the bedroom doorway and push yourself into your room.

Levi is still asleep. He’s a grump wrapped in blankets. His brow furrowed even in rest, but his breathing is slow, even, peaceful.

You crawl carefully into bed, slipping under the blankets until you’re pressed against him, the smell of him is comforting despite the ache in your body. You rest your head on his chest and just… watch him breathe.

His eyes crack open, unfocused at first, then narrowing as they find you.

You smile, voice soft. “You look so sweet when you’re asleep.”

His expression doesn’t change much, but his voice is low, gravelly from sleep. “Let me see it.”

You blink. “What?”

“Your wound,” he frowns, already watching you too closely.

You shake your head slightly, kiss his chest instead. “I just want to stay like this for a while.”

“Don’t bullshit me.” His tone sharpens instantly. “You’re hiding something.”

“Levi…”

You don’t even get to finish. He pulls you back just enough to look, his eyes scanning down—and then he sees the blood and his whole body goes tense.

“Dammit.” He sits up fast, his blanket slipping from his shoulders. His voice is low but furious. “You’re bleeding again.”

“I’m fine—”

“Show it to me. Now.”

There’s no arguing with him. Not like this. You sit up slowly, still on the bed, your hands trembling as you grip your already unbuttoned nightgown.  

His gaze doesn’t leave you, and you swear you can feel heat crawling up your neck.

You open the night gown and slide it back off your shoulders, hesitating for half a heartbeat before letting it fall.

Levi goes still.

You don’t miss it—the way his eyes flick over you, the brief, unguarded glance at your breasts.. His jaw flexes like he didn’t expect to see you like this. Like he doesn’t know where to look.

His attention very soon locks where it should—on the scar. On the red, broken stitches.

“I need to clean this up again.” He speaks almost irritated at the way you’ve treated yourself. “Come on.”

Before you can even protest, his arms are under you. He’s careful, but he doesn’t hesitate to lift you up.

You rest your body in his arms knowing he’s strong enough to bear your weight as he carries you toward the bathroom. His grip is solid, but his touch is gentle.

For the first time in a long time, despite the pain, you feel… safe.

It doesn’t take long for him to reach your bathroom. His bare feet thud softly against the wooden floor as he enters, shifting you slightly in his arms so he can reach for the curtain with one hand.

The heavy fabric scrapes as he pulls it aside, letting a sliver of late afternoon light spill in.

He crouches, setting you gently on the edge of the tub before moving to pump fresh water. The steady creak of the pump and the rush of water into the bucket fill the silence. His expression stays focused, and his brows drawn tight as if he’s holding back all the words he wants to throw at you.

Finally, he sets the bucket down, grabs a clean rag from the folded pile, and sits on the small stool beside the tub. Then, without asking, he lifts you back into his lap, one arm wrapped securely around your waist to keep you steady.

You wince as the rag touches your side, the sting of the water biting into broken stitches.

“Tch. Stop moving.” His tone is short, stern, but the way his fingers brace your side is still nothing but gentle.

“It hurts.” You speak through gritted teeth.

“Of course it hurts. You broke the stitches.”

“I just… wanted to move around a little…” You talk softly, watching the way his hand works so carefully despite his sharp words. “So I could get used to it.”

His eyes roll, and his cleaning pauses for half a beat before resuming slower now. “That’s exactly what I was trying to prevent.”

You shift slightly, resting your hand on the back of his neck, fingers threading into the short strands of his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah…” He grumbles, but his voice has lost some of its bite.

The rag drags gently down your side, following the path of dried blood. Then it glides over your stomach, across soft skin, wiping carefully as if he’s memorizing every line of you while pretending not to. The water in the bucket is turning pink now, but his hands stay steady.

You exhale, watching him. “I’ll pay you back for all of this someday you know.”

“I don’t do this for pay.” He responds immediately, eyes locked on your wound, not looking at you.

“I know.” Your thumb brushes his neck, slow, comforting. “That’s why I want to do it even more.”

That finally makes him glance up, his steel-gray eyes meeting yours.

“You’re good at surviving, Levi.” You speak softly, holding his gaze. “But maybe it’s about time you live too.”

His hand stops completely, the damp rag hanging just above your thigh. He just looks at you for a long moment, and for once, you can’t read him. His usual walls aren’t there. It’s something softer, something raw and real staring back at you.

You glance at his lips. His breath hitches—barely audible—but you catch it, so you lean in.

Your kiss is soft, testing, like you’re afraid he might pull back, but he doesn’t. His lips move against yours slowly at first, then with more need, more heat. His free hand slides to your jaw, tilting your head so he can kiss you deeper, his thumb caressing your cheek.

When you break away just to breathe, he follows immediately, stealing another kiss, hungrier this time, like he’s been holding back for far too long.

When he finally pulls back fully, his lips are slightly swollen, and his expression has the faintest hint of longing in his eyes.

“Hold still.” His voice is gruffly, but his voice is softer than before. He dips the rag back into the water and presses it to your hip, working downward.

The cloth then stops at the waistband of your panties.

“Can I trust you to get that?” His tone is flat, but his eyes are anything but.

You swear he can hear your heart pounding, and it’s not because of what he just asked you… but because of what you’re about to ask him.

You glance down, then back up at him, heat fully set in your cheeks. “Maybe… you could help?”

He exhales through his nose, something between frustration and surrender, then nods once. “Stand up for me.”

You do, carefully, holding his shoulder for balance. His hands come to rest on your hips, steadying you, before they slide to the waistband of your panties. His fingers hook into the fabric, tugging slowly until they slip down your legs to the floor.

The air feels different now. You blush hard, your entire body prickling with awareness as you stand fully exposed in front of him.

His eyes look up to meet yours, and then he pulls you gently back into his lap, his hands careful as they guide you to sit.

 He reclaims the rag and begins to clean your thigh next. His movements methodical but slower now, like he’s trying to stay focused and failing. His hand grazes the inside of your leg, his jaw clenches harder as he cleans you, every touch sending shivers through you that have nothing to do with the cool water.

Neither of you speaks for a while. The only sounds are the soft swish of the cloth against your skin and your quiet, uneven breaths.

His hands are incredibly gentle now, like he’s holding something precious he’s terrified to break.

Levi’s focus is clinical at first, like he’s forcing himself to stay detached. His hands are steady, the cloth gliding over your stomach, dipping to your hip—but the slower he goes, the more you feel it. Not just the cleaning, but him. The warmth of his hands through the damp cloth. The way his breath subtly hitches every time you flinch.

He moves lower, tracing careful paths with the rag along the inside of your thigh. Then he finally reaches the place you’ve been secretly aching for. Without hesitation—he sets the cloth aside.

“I can’t risk irritation with the cloth.” He speaks low—more to himself than you. His voice is calm, but his hand is already moving, dipping into the bucket for clean water. “I’ll do it by hand.”

Before you can even reply, his fingers are on you.

The first touch is careful, methodical, his calloused fingertips spreading the water, washing away the streaks of dried blood… but his hand… lingers. His fingers slip between your folds, slow, gentle, tracing deliberately as if he’s making sure every trace of blood is gone.

You’re so focused on the sensation that when the heat finally hits you, you can’t stop it.

A quiet, involuntary moan slips from your lips. Just one soft sound, but in the silence, it feels deafening.

Your eyes fly wide. Embarrassment floods through you so fast you try to hide your face in his shoulder. Levi freezes instantly. His fingers stop, his gray eyes narrowing on you.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks already knowing but too bashful to question the truth.

You shake your head fast, still hiding, wishing the ground would swallow you.

“…Then that felt good?” He asks lower now, like he’s trying to read you.

Your cheeks burn so hot it hurts, but you nod, just barely. “…Yeah. It felt good.”

For a second, he says nothing, his eyes studying your flushed face.

You’re beside yourself. Nervous and trembling, but the ache inside you won’t stop. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you reach for his hand, fingers playing with his as if trying to distract yourself from what you’re about to ask.

“…Can you… do that again?” Your voice is small, trembling.

His brows lift slightly. “Do what again?”

Your blush deepens, your teeth catching your lip. “…Put your hand… there.”

Levi’s expression doesn’t change much, but his eyes sharpen, focused completely on you now. “…Where do you want my hand?”

It’s less teasing, his words, and more so him making sure that this is something you really want to do. Physical intimacy was not something you had experience with, as admitted by you with your first kiss hours prior. He couldn’t do this without certainty and he wanted you to be explicitly clear with him.

You swallow hard, meeting his gaze. Slowly, you take his hand and guide it back, pressing it against the heat between your legs.

He studies your face for a long moment, watching every flicker of emotion cross it. His fingers don’t move yet.

“Are you sure?” His voice is low, almost rough.

“Yes.” You whisper, desperate now. “Yes, Levi. I need it. I just want to be close to you.”

Something flickers in his eyes then—something hungry, something he’s been holding back for far too long.

He leans in, closing the space between you, and kisses you. This kiss isn’t soft or testing like before. It’s yearning. His lips part against yours, his tongue colliding with yours in a way that makes you shiver. 

His free hand gripping your waist to pull you closer. You can feel the tension in him, the way he’s trying to stay careful with you even as his control starts to slip.

It doesn’t take long before his hand starts to move. At first, his touch is slow, experimental, tracing lazy circles over your folds as if memorizing you. 

When you gasp against his mouth, his movements grow more deliberate, his fingers stroking more firmly, spreading your wetness.

You moan softly into the kiss. Your hands are desperate to hold on to him as the heat builds.

“Fuck.” He whispers against your lips as his fingers move faster now—rubbing your sensitive clit with slow, deliberate circles.

“Levi—” you exhale, but the rest of your words break into another moan.

He kisses you again, deeper, his tongue sliding against yours, his breath uneven now. Every stroke of his fingers feels purposeful, almost reverent, like he’s been waiting to touch you like this for far too long.

Your hips twitch despite the pain in your side, your body instinctively chasing the rhythm of his hand.

“Stay still.” He murmurs, voice hoarse, but his lips are back on yours before you can answer.

Your moans grow softer, higher, your body tightening under his relentless touch. You’re so close—so dizzy with him that you can barely think.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gray eyes dark and heavy-lidded, his fingers never stopping.

“Breathe.” He tells you quietly, almost like an order, and when you nod, his thumb presses just right—sending you over the edge.

You gasp his name, trembling in his lap as waves of pleasure crash through you.

Levi doesn’t stop until you’re trembling and soft against him, your head falling against his chest. Only then does his hand slow, easing you down gently, his other arm tightening around your waist to hold you steady.

Your breath is uneven, your body weak against him, and for once, Levi doesn’t say anything.

He just holds you like the precious gem you are to him.

His fingers are still moving slow, however. Teasing circles as he watches you struggle to catch your breath after your climax. When you fully relax against him, his hand shifts.

His other arm adjusts under you, pulling you closer into his lap as his fingers slide inside of you.

You gasp, your back arching sharply as his middle finger sinks inside you. Slow but firm, curling just slightly as if testing what makes you react. In no time at all he squeezes in his ring finger as well.

Your legs tense against his, but he grabs your thigh, adjusting you until you’re straddling him with your knees braced on either side of his legs.

“Don’t squirm.” He murmurs again, though his own breath sounds rougher now.

You can’t. Not with the way his fingers move, stroking deep, finding that spot inside you with such devastating precision. You moan loud this time, and your hands fly to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair for balance.

“Levi—ah—”

His jaw clenches at the sound, his gray eyes flicking up to watch your face as he works you open with slow, deliberate thrusts of his fingers.

Soon his lips lower. You feel the first touch of his mouth against your collarbone, soft at first, almost testing. Then he kisses lower, trailing along the curve of your chest. His mouth moves greedily now, pressing warm kisses over the top of your breasts.

You’re panting, fingers tightening in his hair. “Levi—”

He doesn’t answer, just tilts his head, his tongue tracing the shape of your nipple before his mouth closes around it.

The sensation is too much. Too hot. You moan louder than before, arching helplessly into his mouth as his tongue flicks over the hardened peak—his suction slow but hungry.

“You’re making me feel so good.” You breathe, voice breaking.

He groans low in his throat, the vibration sending another jolt of heat through you. His fingers inside you curl deeper, matching the rhythm of his mouth as you squirm in his lap.

Your hips twitch, your body rocking slightly against him, and then—you feel it. The hard press beneath you.

You freeze for half a second, breath catching. “Levi… what is—”

“You know what that is.” He cuts you off sharply, lifting his head from your chest just enough to look at you. His lips are slightly swollen, his hair a little mussed from your hands.

You stare at him, your heart pounding, then glance down briefly before meeting his eyes again. Slowly—hesitantly—you slide one hand from his neck to his lap, pressing lightly over the hardness beneath his pants.

His breath hitches audibly.

“…Fuck.” The word leaves him almost like a groan, his eyes half-lidded as you touch him through the fabric.

Your cheeks burn, but you keep your hand there, feeling the heat of him, the way he shifts slightly under your palm. His fingers inside you slow for a moment, like he’s trying to get control, but when you squeeze it just slightly, his fingers push deeper into you—harder this time.

The rhythm changes—his thrusts more insistent, his thumb now pressing tight circles against your clit.

You moan, louder than before as your hand still cups him. “Levi… I want… more of you.”

His eyes lock on yours, dark and heavy with want. “Is that really what you want?”

You bite your lip, leaning closer until your lips almost touch his. “Yes, please.”

Your boldness wasn’t inexplicable, no. These were the actions of a woman who knew she’d be dying in just a few short weeks. The actions of a woman who wanted to share herself with a man she loved for a long time.

You were a bit scared of the intimacy, sure, but it scared you more to die without ever having it. Without ever having him.

One strong arm slides under your thighs, the other cradling your back as he lifts you from his lap. You gasp softly as he lifts you—your arms looping around his neck for balance. His grip is firm—solid—but his movements are so careful..

“Levi…” you whisper, your voice breathless.

He only answers with a low hum, his eyes focused as he stands gently with you in his arms.

Your lips press against his again and again. Every kiss deeper than the last. You can feel the tension in his body and the way his chest rises faster with each kiss. You can feel the subtle shudder in his breath every time your fingers twist into his hair.

His feet are quiet against the wood floor as he carries you out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. The sunlight filtering through the curtains catches the white duvets, making them glow faintly like snow.

He lays you down with such care, lowering you onto the soft bed as if you’re made of glass. His hands are slow, steady, sliding from your back to the sheets as he hovers over you. His body doesn’t press down on yours yet—he’s still being careful, his gray eyes scanning every inch of you, studying you like he’s memorizing this moment.

You swallow, nervous but sure. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, and yet, you know what you want.

“I want this.” You whisper, your hand sliding down his chest, fingers tracing the firm lines of his stomach until they stop at his belt.

Levi doesn’t move at first, his sharp gaze locked on yours. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” You nod. “I want this, Levi. I want you.”

Something shifts in his eyes then—like a wall cracking. He studies you for one more long moment, not just hearing your words but reading them on your face, making sure you mean them.

Finally, he nods, his lips pressing against your forehead for just a second before he shifts back slightly.

You watch, mesmerized, as his fingers unbuckle his belt with precise movements. He unzips his pants, his hands steady even though his cheeks are reddening.

You can’t help your own curiosity. Tentatively, you reach forward, your fingers touching the waistband. He pauses, glancing at you, but doesn’t stop you.

You tug gently, pulling the fabric down, and your breath catches.

He’s beautiful in a way you didn’t expect. He shifts slightly, pulling the foreskin back with one hand to reveal the full, pink head of his cock.

His length is slightly thick and perfectly proportioned—not intimidating, but big enough that your body instinctively clenches at the thought of taking him… and just at the base is one tiny freckle, barely noticeable, but so Levi in its quiet, unassuming way.

Your cheeks burn so hot you can barely look, but when your eyes climb back up, you’re surprised.

Levi’s blushing too. His ears are bright red, his cheeks dusted in a peachy hue, even the top of his chest faintly colored. He’s not shy, not exactly—but there’s no mistaking how intimate this is for him, and how much he’s letting you see of him that no one else gets.

You smile faintly despite your nerves, and he exhales slowly, his jaw tense as he carefully crawls back over you.

The bed dips under his weight, his body hovering just above yours, his gray eyes locked on you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. His hand slides down, gently parting your legs, making room for himself between them.

He kisses you again, slow, lingering, as his hips press forward slightly, his cock pressing against your slick folds.

“You sure?” He asks one last time, his gray eyes locked on yours, his face soft in a way you’ve never seen before.

He wasn’t trying to talk you out of it by asking so many times. More so, he wanted to be sure this was something you wouldn’t come to regret. A choice that you didn’t just agree to, but a choice that you wanted.

“Yes.” You whisper, kissing him back. “I’m sure.”

You can feel the heat of him, even before he moves. His hand grips himself as he lines up with you, his movements deliberate, his other arm braced beside your head. You feel the first press of him, the soft tip nudging against you, and you gasp. Your fingers curl against his shoulders.

“You’re okay?” He asks, his voice lower than you’ve ever heard it.

“Mhm… yes.” You nod, biting your lip. “Please, Levi…”

He pushes forward slowly, carefully, and the sensation makes your breath hitch.

Your body tightens around him, every inch stretching as he slides deeper, inch by inch. You then feel your body opening for him, adjusting, welcoming him.

“Tell me if it hurts.” He reassures you again.

Levi grunts softly, his jaw tight as if he’s holding himself back from going faster. His forehead drops closer to your shoulder, his breath uneven.

You moan softly as you feel him sink deeper. It’s so new, so foreign—but it’s Levi, and your body wants him there.

Then, with one last slow thrust, he’s fully inside you.

You gasp, holding him close, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as if you can pull him even closer. The fullness of him, the warmth, the way he fits so perfectly—it feels incredible.

Levi stays still for a beat, taking in this moment. His breathing ragged.. “Still okay?”

You nod quickly, breathless. “Yes… I’m okay… I feel good.”

Something flickers in his gaze—something softer, something he doesn’t say out loud. He leans down, kissing you again, slow but deep, his hips finally starting to move, rocking into you gently, carefully, as if he’s trying to commit every second to memory.

Levi keeps himself close—so close you can feel his breath against your lips—but he doesn’t let his full weight rest on you. One arm braces beside your head, his muscles tense as he supports himself, careful not to press against your healing ribs.

Your hands slide along his back, tracing every line of muscle—feeling the way they flex with each careful movement. You drag your fingers higher, curling them over his shoulders, needing to touch him everywhere you can.

He moves slowly at first. He draws his cock out until only half of him remains inside you, then pushes back in, deep and unhurried. Every stroke feels deliberate with the right pressure.

The sensation is too much to stay quiet. A moan slips from your throat, soft at first, then louder as his rhythm continues. You don’t even try to hold it back. No—you don’t want to.

Levi kisses you between thrusts, his lips pressing against yours. His eyes stay half-lidded but focused entirely on you, scanning your face for every reaction.

“Still good?” He murmurs, his voice lower than usual, hoarse with restraint. “If you’re uncomfortable—tell me.”

You shake your head quickly, breathless.

“Does it feel okay?” He asks again, his thrusts still slow, deep, each one filling you perfectly.

Your fingers tighten on his back, and you nod, almost desperate. “It feels… it feels so good.”

His eyes darken slightly, his jaw tensing. “Good?”

“Yes.” You nod before kissing him again. “I like how you feel inside of me, Levi.”

He groans softly against your lips, and you feel him kiss you harder, as if your words broke something loose in him.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him like you can’t get enough. His control slips just a little, his thrusts picking up pace, his hips rocking into you deeper.

You whine against his mouth, a sound of pure bliss, your nails digging slightly into his back as you cling to him.

The rhythm builds, slow at first, then faster, more insistent. Each thrust pushes deeper, your body tightening around him, making him grunt low in his chest.

“Levi—” you gasp, arching slightly as pleasure rolls through you, and his pace stutters for just a moment, like your voice is undoing him too.

You’re lost in it now, lost in the way he moves, the heat building with every stroke, the way his lips keep finding yours between ragged breaths.

Levi’s breath is hot against your ear, his chest finally pressing against yours as he gives up on keeping that careful distance. The weight of him is grounding, intoxicating, and you wrap your arms around him tighter—your nails grazing lightly down his back. His skin is warm and slick, and every shift of muscle under your hands feels like he was sculpted just for you.

He grunts softly, his hips rolling in a slow, deep thrust that pulls a sharp gasp from your lips. “Ah—fuck.” He hesitates. “I… I have to stop.”

You freeze, blinking up at him in disbelief, lips parted. “Wha—what? No! Why?”

He’s panting lightly, his gray eyes dark and stormy, and his movements have stilled even as he stays buried inside you. “Because…” he grits out, voice low and hoarse, “…I’m trying my best to be careful. To keep it slow, but I can feel myself slipping.”

“Slipping?” You whisper, your heart pounding, your hands sliding up to cup his face.

He nods minutely, almost frustrated with himself. “If I go any deeper… if I get rougher… I’ll hurt you, and I can’t—” He cuts himself off with a groan, lowering his head against the crook of your neck as if he’s ashamed of his own want.

Your chest tightens. You thread your fingers through his damp hair and whisper, “Levi… you want to be rough with me?”

He exhales through his nose, like he’s trying to hold himself together. “Just a little harder… it’s what I want, but it’ll hurt your ribs. I won’t do that to you.”

Your thighs tremble around him, your body clenching in want, and you hold him tighter. “It’s okay. If you want it… you can. I want you to.”

“No.” His voice is firm, even as his hips give a slow, involuntary grind that makes you whimper. “I can’t risk it.”

You whine softly, and it only seems to fray the edge of his control. He pulls back slightly, just enough to see your face, and his thumb traces your lower lip. His thrusts resume, slower but longer, his cock dragging so deep that you can’t stop the moan that spills out of you.

Levi groans, low in his chest, before he lowers his mouth to your neck. His tongue traces a hot, wet line up the side before he nips gently at the edge of your jaw, and your entire body shivers.

He whispers near your ear, voice raw, and his words spilling like a confession into your skin. Like you’ve made the one safe space for him to ever speak so openly like this.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” His thrusts punctuate his words, deep and measured, his breath shuddering. “I’ve never wanted someone like this. Never even thought about… fuck—about letting anyone this close…”

He shifts, pressing deeper, and your nails dig into his back as a whimper escapes you.

“You’re so warm, so tight, and I can feel you clenching around me like you’re begging me not to leave.”

You gasp, your face hot, your heart pounding like it’s going to break through your chest.

“Levi…”

He kisses you then, hard and almost desperate, his tongue sliding against yours as he swallows your moans. His hips roll again, longer, deeper, and you feel him throb inside you, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room.

He pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, his voice breaking slightly, “You’re gonna ruin me for everyone, you know that?”

The rawness of it, the vulnerability in his voice, makes your eyes sting with tears as pleasure coils tight in your stomach.

Levi’s rhythm shifts, the slow, careful strokes melting into something deeper, more consuming. The heat of him wrapping around you like a cage, and his breath uneven against your neck. Each thrust sinks him into your soft, wet heat, and he groans quietly at the way your body grips him.

You’re gasping, moaning without thought, nails dragging down his back again as your body arches helplessly to meet his. Every nerve feels alive, sparking and trembling with the weight of this moment. “Levi…” 

“Yeah?” His voice is low, ragged, hips moving in a steady rhythm that’s driving you mad.

“Don’t stop… please don’t stop.” You whimper, your voice breaking. “I need—ah— I need you…”

His lips crash against yours, desperate and hungry, and he swallows your moans as he finally lets his restraint slip a bit. His hips snap into you harder, deeper, and the new pace steals the breath from your lungs. Your thighs tremble around his waist, and your body clenches tight around him in raw, unrestrained pleasure.

The wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you fill the room, and your eyes roll back, tears spilling from the intensity. You’ve never felt this, never known this kind of dizzying euphoria, and it’s like he’s breaking you open and making you whole all at once.

He lifts his head, gray eyes burning into yours, and the sight of him—flushed, sweating, lips parted—sends you spiraling closer. “Fuck, look at you.” He rasps, thrusting deep. 

You cry out, clawing at his back, nails leaving red trails on his skin. “Levi—I—oh fuck—I can’t—!”

His hips pounding harder, more desperate now. “Cum for me… Keep gripping me like that.”

The words push you over the edge. Your body seizes around him, waves of pleasure ripping through you like lightning, and a broken scream leaves your throat. Your back arches, your toes curl, and you sob his name as you squirt just a bit—your release soaking both of you.

Levi groans low, burying his face in your neck, thrusting through your orgasm as if he can’t get enough. “Fuck—fuck—you’re squeezing me so good.” He pants, kissing your skin with frantic reverence. 

Your legs tremble, arms locked around him as your body rides out the aftershocks. You’ve never felt so raw, so vulnerable, so completely his.

He slows his hips, kissing along your jaw and cheeks, whispering, “That’s it… I’ve got you…”

Levi’s breathing is heavy, ragged at first as his release comes shortly after. You hear him moan right into your ear, low and raw like you’ve never heard before. His cock pulsing deep inside you, filling you with warmth that makes your whole body tremble. 

He stays there, buried to the hilt, his hips pressed flush to yours like he doesn’t want to let you go. A quiet groan escapes his lips as you feel his heartbeat racing in his chest.

Eventually, he shifts carefully, never letting himself leave your body, and moves to his side. He pulls you with him, the two of you curling into each other, bodies perfectly aligned. You turn slightly so your injured side faces up, and he immediately notices without you saying a word. His hand slides over your waist, fingers touching lightly over your skin—holding you close but careful, always careful.

You hook one leg over his, feeling the slow thrum of his muscles beneath your thigh. His face is inches from yours, and his eyes are half-lidded, softer than you’ve ever seen them. He’s beautiful like this—unguarded. The sharpness of Levi the survivor—it’s muted, replaced with a tender warmth that he could only give to a person he loves.

You trace his jaw with your fingers, and he leans into your touch almost instinctively. His eyes close completely now, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks truly at peace. Not just calm—but whole. He exhales through his nose, the faintest hint of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, and your heart swells because you know this is a piece of him that had been long locked away—or never even existed.

It feels like forever. Your breathing syncs with his, the rise and fall of his chest like a lullaby. You could stay like this until the world ends. His hand moves to rest on your waist, holding you in that perfect, protective way. Like even in his sleep he’s guarding you from everything.

Then his fingers shift slightly, brushing over your injured side. You flinch, a sharp inhale escaping you before you can stop it.

Levi’s eyes snap open instantly. The soft haze is gone in an instant. That rare peace, that fleeting warmth—obliterated by the reminder that you are hurt. That you are breakable. That you are vulnerable in ways he can’t accept. His jaw tightens, his gray eyes darkening as the weight of reality crashes back down on him.

He stares at you for a long moment, silent, and then… “You can’t go back underground.” He speaks quietly but sternly in a voice like steel.

You blink at him, still hazy from the intimacy, still drunk on the heat of him. “…What?”

His grip on your waist tightens, not rough, but firm enough to make you focus on him. His expression is hard now, resolved. “I won’t let you.”

“Levi, I—”

Before you can process, before you can plead with him, the sharp sound of your front door creaks open. A voice—shaken, broken—calls out into the house.

“Where are you?!”

It’s Tinsley.

Your eyes widen, panic flooding your chest. You scramble out of his arms, your body feeling cold the second you leave his warmth. There’s a strange emptiness as his cock slides out of you.

You grab a robe from your closet and pull it around yourself, cinching it at your waist just as Levi sits up, eyes narrowing in the direction of the voice.

“Who is that?” His voice is low and dangerous.

You lean over him, kissing him quickly, almost desperately. “Stay here. Please. It’s my sister. She can’t see you…”

He studies your face for a moment, the muscle in his jaw twitching, but he nods once. Silent, tense, he stays crouched in the shadows of your room as you tighten your robe and limp toward the hall, leaving the cocoon of warmth and intimacy behind—your heart still pounding with the echo of his love he can’t say out loud.

The moment you step into the hall, Tinsley is already halfway up the stairs, her hands gripping the banister like it’s the only thing holding her together. Her face is blotchy, red, wet with tears, and her voice—your sister’s voice, the one that’s usually light and teasing—is raw with betrayal.

“You—” Her voice cracks. She swallows hard, then tries again. “You couldn’t possibly understand how much this hurts me. You couldn’t… because if you did, you wouldn’t be doing this!”

You close your robe tighter around yourself, holding it closed with trembling fingers. “Tinsley… please—”

“No!” She cuts you off, her voice sharp and slicing through the quiet house. “No, you don’t get to ‘Tinsley, please’ me right now! I get it, okay? I get why you stopped talking to me. I deserved it.” Her chest heaves with each word, breath hitching. “I would sit with those so-called friends, those bastards who talked about you like a dog. And do you know what I did? I laughed with them.”

Your throat tightens, and you take a step back against the wall. “Tinsley…”

“I didn’t laugh because it was funny!” She yells, voice cracking. “I laughed because I was far too much of a coward to speak out against them… because it was easier than defending you when I knew I’d be next. That’s probably worse than just finding it funny, isn’t it? I betrayed you by doing nothing. So you cut me out, and I get it… I get that we will never be the little girls running around in the garden again. The girls pointing up at the clouds and making up stories for hours.”

Your lips tremble. You shake your head faintly. “Tins…”

“But what I don’t get—” Her voice splinters into a sob, her body collapsing to sit on the stairs, staring up at you with those big blue eyes. “—is why you would make me watch you die.”

The words punch the air out of your lungs. Behind you, somewhere in the quiet of your bedroom, you swear you can feel Levi’s presence sharpen, his anger pulsing like a living thing in the dark.

“Tinsley, this is so—so dramatic.” Your voice soft and even, trying to downplay and keep her words from cutting through the door to Levi’s ears.

“Dramatic?!” She screeches, and the sound is pure heartbreak. “The doctor said you will die if you don’t go to Shiganshina with him!”

Your lip quivers. You look down at the floor, tracing the grain of the wood with your eyes because if you look at her face, you’ll fall apart.

“All your life…” She continues, standing again, her hands flinging out like she’s throwing the words at you, “All your life, you dreamed of leaving Mitras! In father’s workshop you weren’t just sewing. No, you were studying maps of the other districts, the other towns, everything! Reading books! You wanted to leave ever since you found out there were districts beyond the capital, but father was so obsessed with you that he kept you chained up right here in Mitras. It was never about some disease.”

Your eyes widen just slightly as you listen. Tinsley always came off as someone aloof, narcissistic, dramatic. You never thought she noticed these things… or that she cared.

“I’ve been around you our whole lives and never fell ill once. It’s another burden I carry that I never spoke up for your freedom…You said you’d give your right arm just to see Shiganshina. Now you have the chance to do it, and you’re saying no—why?!” Her voice rises, ragged and furious. “Because you need some stupid proof of residence from Father before he dies?! Is that really worth your life?! What is wrong with you?!”

Your eyes blur, your chest tightens, and you try to blink the tears away. You can’t let Levi hear the break in your voice. “Tinsley… I…”

She shakes her head, furious and desperate. “Get out of Mitras!” She screams. “Get out! Make something of yourself in any other district—Utopia, Trost, anywhere. They don’t deserve you here, and you know that! You know that!”

You can’t breathe. The house feels like it’s closing in, every word pressing on your chest.

“You don’t want to be here.” Her voice softens now, almost pleading. “You’ve never wanted to be here. Your heart—” She points to her own chest, sobbing. “Your heart doesn’t want to be here. You’re just… you’re just tethered. To Father. To these stupid, worthless papers.” She shakes her head violently, tears dripping from her chin. “I am begging you… as your twin, as your sister, as your friend…” Her voice breaks. “Please. Please let the doctor heal you. Please don’t make me bury you.”

Your hand grips the banister for support as your vision swims with tears. Your bottom lip trembles as you turn your head slightly away from her, away from the doorway, toward the dark hall where Levi waits unseen.

“…I can’t, Tinsley.”

The words are so quiet, so soft, but they splinter her completely. She folds over herself on the stairs, shaking with silent sobs, and all you can do is bite your lip hard enough to taste blood and hold yourself together.

Behind the bedroom door, you feel his energy shift, dark and storming, and it feels like the weight of his heart is pressing against yours.

Your sister picks herself up, “Dr. Yaeger leaves tomorrow morning. I really hope you’ll be in the carriage with him.”

The air is suffocating when Tinsley finally storms out, the front door slamming hard enough to rattle the glass in the windows. The echo dies slowly, leaving a vacuum of silence that feels like it might swallow you whole.

You don’t move for a moment. You just… feel him. Levi. His energy is like a living, breathing entity behind you that you need to calm down immediately.

You take a deep breath and head back to the room. “I know you’re mad—”

“Mad?” His voice is sharp enough to cut, low and vibrating with fury. “You think I’m mad?”

Upon reentering the room you see that he is fully dressed again. Not just his shirt and pants, but his boots too. It worries you.

Your stomach twists. “…Levi—”

“Don’t. Don’t talk like you know.” He’s on you in a few strides, dark eyes locked on yours, his jaw tight, and his voice drops into a growl. “You don’t know shit.”

You swallow hard and limp back toward him, your body aching. You try to hide it, try to walk steady, but your legs betray you.

When you sit on the edge of the bed, your eyes are already shimmering with tears, the words spill out before you can stop them. “…It’s over, Levi.”

His face freezes, unreadable, but his shoulders tense. “…The hell did you just say to me?”

“I said it’s over.” You whisper, voice shaking. “I don’t… I don’t have a life that means anything. My life is empty. But if I can give you—and Furlan and Isabel freedom… If I can give you the sun, then maybe… maybe my life will have meant something after all.”

His expression cracks, his eyes flashing with rage. “No. No! That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard you say, and you’re smarter than that!” His voice booms through the room, and you gasp, startled.

“Levi—”

“You think that’s what we want?” He snarls, stepping closer.. “You think we want the sun if it comes at that cost? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Your hands tremble in your lap, your chest heaving.

He grabs your chin, firm but not cruel, forcing your tearful eyes to meet his. His gaze is fire and ice all at once. “What was your reason for coming underground in the first place? Huh?! Answer me!”

Your voice cracks. “Levi…”

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“The Kuremi are gone. I am the last one. The last child of the sunrise. I don’t know anything about them! I don’t know anything! Their legacy already ended with my mother. With Abeni. With her real husband, my father… and everyone who ever knew about the Kuremi were killed in that room underground that night! They’re gone, Levi!”

His face hardens, and his voice drops, sharp and lethal. “…What about that loose end in Shiganshina?”

You freeze, your lips parting. “…That could be anything—”

“Don’t—” He roars, and your whole body flinches. “You know that’s not true!”

“Maybe… maybe you’re right, okay?! Maybe there’s some shrine, or lead, or—something in Shiganshina that’ll tell me the truth about my people. But…” Your voice drops to a whisper. “I don’t want it if it means leaving you behind.”

He stares at you, chest heaving.

“I want you to have freedom.” You plead. “I want you to have the sun… but when my father dies, I can’t give that to you anymore. The power dies with him. I inherit the estate, but the name means nothing. The royal government has disapproved of my existence since I was born. They’d never honor my title as noblewoman. Even if I sign it all to Tinsley, it won’t matter! She’s a socialite, Levi. She doesn’t work like me. She doesn’t build connections like my brother. She can’t leverage anything. They’ll never approve the papers for her. Never.”

You start pacing, your limp worsening, hands trembling. “Fine. Fine! I’ll go to Shiganshina. I’ll let the doctor fix me, but when I come back, Father will be gone. The power gone… and you’ll still be underground. So I’ll spend the rest of my life there with you. I can live without sunshine… I can’t live without you.”

The words hang heavy, but Levi couldn’t let this persist. “No.”

You freeze, your tear-streaked face twisting in confusion. “…No?”

“You go to Shiganshina…” His voice is like a blade, cold and final. “…and you don’t fucking come back.”

Your chest caves, a strangled sound leaving your throat. “…Levi—what?”

“You heard me.” He steps closer, his voice rising, sharp and cruel. “You forget all about this. About me. About Furlan. Isabel. All of it. You start your new life, and you don’t come back to that shithole or this one, you hear me?”

Your lip trembles. “Levi—don’t—”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t soften. He’s burning inside, but his face is stone. “…You’re not dying for me. You’re not throwing your life away. You’re gonna live, and you’re gonna forget about me.”

The sob that tears out of you feels like it rips your soul with it, and Levi just stands there, staring at you with eyes that hide his own breaking heart.

Your hands shake as you pull yourself toward the dress on the floor just outside your bedroom. Your vision is blurred with tears, your ribs ache with every step, and your throat is raw from sobbing. You collapse to your knees, grab the fabric, and rip a long strip from the hem. A piece that isn’t bloody.

You fold it carefully, hiding the ripped threads, smoothing it like something sacred. You press it to your mouth, your faint red lips leaving an imperfect kiss on the pale fabric. Sniffling, you get to your feet, limping toward him where he stands.

“Levi…” Your voice cracks as you reach up, tying the cloth gently around his neck like a cravat, careful to keep the lipstick mark facing inward. “I never got to make you that suit I wanted, but I hope you’ll keep this piece of me with you, always..”

His eyes flicker, his lips parting like he’s about to say something—but you don’t let him. You wrap your arms around him, sobbing into his chest, kissing his cheek, his jaw, desperate.

“Please, Levi.” You whisper between kisses, your voice breaking. “Let me do this for you. I want to give you the sun. I want to give you my life.”

Something in him snaps. In an instant, his hands are on you, gripping your arms as he drags you to the bed.

“Levi—?”

“You don’t get it.” He snarls, his voice low, guttural.

He throws you onto the mattress. Before you can even sit up, he’s yanking the curtain cord from the window.

“Levi! What are you—?!”

He seizes your wrists and forces them above your head, his face a mask of rage and anguish, his movements rough but never cruel.

“Levi! Stop!” You scream, thrashing against his hold.

“You won’t listen.” He bites out, looping the cord around your wrists and the headboard, pulling it tight. The wood creaks.

“NO! Levi, please!”

“I have to force you!” His voice cracks, raw and desperate. He pulls the knot hard once more, your arms pinned high above you.

Tears stream down your face. “Levi! Please—what are you doing?!”

“Don’t you ever come back underground again.” He speaks in a voice low and deadly. “You hear me? Ever. I’m gonna block the tunnel. You’ll have no choice.”

“NO! NO! NO, LEVI! PLEASE!” Your screams rip through the room, your chest heaving as you twist against the binds. Your injured ribs send spikes of pain through your body, but you fight anyway. “Don’t do this!”

He kneels over you, his face inches from yours, and for a fleeting split second, his eyes glisten—but he forces the softness away, hardening himself like stone.

“You’re not gonna throw your life away over something this stupid.” He growls. “You’re gonna go to Shiganshina. You’re gonna heal, and you’re not gonna look back, you hear me? You start a new life. Live, and forget about this.”

Your voice breaks into a sob. “I can’t! I can’t forget you! I can’t—!”

He cuts you off. “You will.” His voice trembles with restrained agony. “You’re gonna get out of the capital and live the life you’re meant to have. That’s it.”

You’re gasping now, straining against the cords, your arms aching. He finally steps back, breathing hard, and in a flat voice, he tells you exactly how to get your wrists free once your body relaxes—but by the time you manage it, the tunnel will be gone.

“Levi…”

He hesitates, his chest rising and falling fast, like he’s holding the weight of the entire world behind his ribs. 

“Whatever you thought this was…” His words are like blades. “…It wasn’t. It was just two people locked in the same place too long. The convenience of proximity. Don’t mistake confinement for connection.”

Your chest cracks wide. You cry so hard you can’t even make a sound. 

Levi doesn’t offer you a farewell, a glance back, or any comforting gesture. The last thing you can hear are his footsteps heading back downstairs.

The room is silent except for your choking sobs, your arms burning as you strain against the cords, your body shivering with heartbreak. This can’t be happening. This can’t truly be how it ends.

[softcursechoso]

Somewhere, We Do: Ch. 10

JJK x Reader Nanami x Reader

Masterlist

MDNI! // 18+ // NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS!

Ch. 10 Warnings: None! This chapter is just a bunch of dialog ngl. We love hard and we fight hard :(

BASIC BOUNDARIES

Words: 10.2k+

Home : 11:59am : Otsuka

The city feels so grating on a day like this. Otsuka is alive, as it always is at midday. Horns blaring from impatient taxis, the chatter of office workers on lunch breaks, the rhythmic clack of heels against the pavement. Normally, that noise soothes you, but not today.

Your apartment is still. The curtains are half drawn, spilling sunlight in golden streaks across the floor, catching on the stack of untouched paperwork on your coffee table. You’re sitting there, legs tucked under you, phone facedown beside an untouched cup of coffee.

It’s not like you to ignore him. Nanami notices everything—your moods, your tells, all of your nervous ticks. He knows something’s wrong. Since you’ve been dating you have never once gone this long without texting or calling him.

Your thumb hovers over your phone for a long moment before you finally flip it over. One unread message, sent hours ago:

[Nanami] 🍯📈: Good morning, my love. I’ll call you during my lunch break if you’re free.

Dammit. You needed to hurry up and have this conversation. Don’t overthink it. Just send the damn text.

You: We should probably talk in person, Kento.

No emojis. No softening it with pet names. Just plain text, cold and sterile.

The reply comes almost instantly.

[Nanami] 🍯📈: I’d really appreciate that.

You close your eyes, exhaling slowly. Of course he’d say it like that—no panic, no defensiveness, just calm, rational Nanami. That’s part of why you fell for him. It’s also why you’re spiraling now; because when he’s this calm, you can’t tell if he genuinely doesn’t see the problem… or if he just doesn’t care enough to.

Thirty minutes later, you’re standing in front of the mirror tying your hair back under a black snapback. You’re in a black maxi dress that was meant for comfort, but somehow it clings just enough in the right places to look quite sexy. Sneakers, sunglasses. You look casual-ish.

Your stomach twists as you sling your bag over your shoulder. It’s ridiculous—you’ve faced curses that could kill you in seconds without a flinch, but the idea of sitting across from the love of your life and saying “this hurts me” makes your chest ache like a fresh wound.

There was an extra layer of embarrassment. This was your boyfriend, and you couldn’t tell if you were overreacting, or gaslighting yourself about overreacting. Nanami was a very understanding man, and there was just no way this conversation could go wrong.

You glance at your bracelet—the one he gave you on your first date, and your throat tightens. You love him. You love him more than you’ve loved anyone, but if you don’t say something now, you may lose a beautiful thing.

You take a deep breath, slide your sunglasses into place, and lock the door behind you. It’s time.

Hoshiumi Cafe : 12:37pm : Tokyo Bay

Both of you decided on a cute little seaside café to meet at in Minato City. Only about a 20 minute drive from your home, and it was a place you both had been meaning to go for some time now. Unfortunate that it had to be under these circumstances.

You step out of the cab and the salty breeze of the coast immediately wraps around you. The air tastes clean, fresh, and faintly sweet with the scent of grilled seafood drifting from the cafe’s open terrace. It’s so nice, but you can’t focus on anything except how nervous you are.

The seaside café is even prettier in person than in the photos—white wood paneling, pale blue shutters thrown open to invite the sea air, hanging potted plants dripping with ivy. People laugh over plates of sashimi and fresh bread, sunlight glinting off wine glasses. It’s lively but not overwhelming, and quite disarming. 

You step inside, pushing your sunglasses to rest on top of your cap, and the air shifts—cooler, scented with citrus and something buttery from the kitchen. A hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good afternoon. How may I assist you today?”

You return the polite smile, “Good afternoon. I am here for a reservation under Nanami Kento.”

She bows, “Of course, right this way. He’s already seated.”

No surprise there. He’s always early.

You follow her as she guides you through the restaurant, weaving between sunlit tables and adoring couples. The color palette inside is all warm neutrals—cream,sand and pale wood—designed to make you feel calm. It doesn’t work. Your stomach knots harder with every step.

Then the hostess turns toward the back patio, pushing open wide glass doors, and you see him. Nanami looks up the moment you step outside, and your stomach knots.

Was that butterflies?

He’s sitting at a corner table with the bay spread out behind him, sunlight catching on the crisp white of his dress shirt. Not his usual buttoned-up, full-sleeve perfection—no, today he’s in a fitted short-sleeve shirt that clings just enough to show those muscular shoulders and arms—sleeves hugging his biceps in a way you’re definitely noticing against your better judgment. 

His slacks are dark gray, pressed sharp, paired with polished dress shoes. A sleek watch glints on his wrist, and without his glasses, his face looks a little softer. His hair is styled in that maddening way that makes you wonder if he carefully combed it or just woke up looking like a God.

Damn he’s hot. Don’t get distracted!

This was supposed to be a serious talk, and here you are staring at him like you’re on a date.

The moment your eyes meet, he stands—his chair scraping softly against the wooden deck. Always a gentleman. He steps toward you, placing his hand at your waist like he’s done countless times before, but it feels heavier today. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips—just a brief, sweet thing.

“Hello my love.” He speaks quietly, voice smooth, but his thumb lingers against your waist for just a second as if to reassure himself you’re here.

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hi.”

You slip into your seat across from him as he politely pulls out your chair first, because of course he does. The breeze catches your dress, fluttering the dress a bit and pulling it a bit tighter. You can feel his gaze on you for a second too long before he sits again.

The waitress arrives almost immediately with water, and Nanami thanks her politely, ever the composed man he always is. When her footsteps fade, silence settles between the two of you like a weight. The table is small, intimate, a vase of white lilies sitting between you, and you find yourself tracing the condensation on your glass just to keep your hands busy.

Nanami is the first to speak, his voice careful, almost cautious. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You smile softly.

You glance up at him, and he’s looking at you the way he always does—like he means it, like nothing else in the world matters, and maybe that’s what makes your chest ache even worse.

“Did you sleep okay?” His tone is quiet, almost casual, but there’s a subtle crease between his brows. He’s watching you too closely, searching for cracks.

You don’t give him the comfort of pretending. “Not really.”

He pauses, that small crease deepening, but before he can follow it with the usual soft concern—you exhale sharply and cut straight through the silence. There’s no sense in beating around the bush.

“I can’t do the polite entry into this conversation, Kento. I just need to say it—we need to talk about Kanzaki Reika.”

The words drop between you like a weight. His expression shifts—his brows lift slightly, his mouth parts just barely. He doesn’t speak, but the surprise in his face is clear. Maybe he didn’t think you’d bring it up so soon, or maybe he thought you’d be more delicate. Either way, you don’t let him find a response before you keep going.

“Your relationship with her is not okay with me.”

The directness hangs heavy in the air, and his silence only fuels you to keep pressing forward.

“Her calling you her work husband is completely out of line. Her sitting on your desk like that? Unacceptable. The way she talks to you, the way she looks at you—it’s disrespectful to me as your partner. You may think it’s harmless, but it’s not. Kento, you are my boyfriend. People see you as hers, and that’s a problem.”

You don’t raise your voice. You don’t need to. Each word is deliberate, sharp, landing cleanly in the space between you. You press on…

“You drove her home—more than once might I add, and you never thought to tell me.” Your hand moves slightly, a small, tense motion against the table, but your voice doesn’t waver. “That is crossing a boundary in a major way. Buying her lunch from our place. That wasn’t just thoughtless—it felt intentional. It felt like you shared something with her that I told you was important to me.”

You lean forward slightly, just enough to hold his gaze. His face hasn’t shifted much—he’s still composed, still sitting perfectly straight—but you can see it now, that flicker of discomfort in his eyes, the way his jaw ticks just barely before he catches it.

“We don’t get much time as it is, and what little we do have is being spent with her. You texted her when she was out with her friends, pulled her away to work late with you—and didn’t think for a second how that looks. Or how it feels for me. Hell, she showed up in a dress that wasn’t even close to professional and you just let her. You let her stay late. You let her blur the lines. You let her take up space that used to be mine”

You take a slow breath, letting the weight of your words settle before you drop the last one.

“And worst of all? You didn’t even tell me when she started working with you. You tell me everything—small, big, whatever. Yet somehow, when Kanzaki Reika showed up in your office, she didn’t make the cut. That’s not an oversight. That’s a choice… and because of it, my trust in you has wavered.”

The breeze pushes lightly at your hair, a soft contrast to the solid, unwavering tone you hold. You don’t look away from him, don’t soften your expression or search for reassurance in his eyes. You just said a mouthful, and you know he needs to process it.

Your fingers rest lightly against the condensation of your water glass, the only sound between you now is the soft clink of silverware from the other tables and the muted roar of the bay.

When you speak again, it’s quieter, but still firm.

“I’m not accusing you of cheating. I don’t think you would, but trust isn’t just about fidelity. It’s about respect. It’s about transparency. It’s about knowing that the person I love wouldn’t let someone else inch their way into his life like that—into our space—and keep me in the dark about it.”

The words hang there, sharp and final, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

The silence stretches long enough for the sound of the waves to fill it, soft and steady in the background. Nanami doesn’t immediately reach for his water or shift in his seat. His posture is as composed as always, but his eyes are sharp and steady- locked on you like he’s turning over every word you just said in his head.

When he finally speaks, his voice is leveled and controlled.

“I hear you.” The first words out of his mouth, and you can tell he means it. He isn’t brushing you off or dismissing you. “Your feelings are completely valid. I understand why you’re upset, and I respect that. Kanzaki’s behavior clearly bothers you, and I should have considered that sooner. I will also take ownership of my own actions. Leaving you in the dark is unacceptable, and it wasn’t that I was hiding anything, but more so, Kanzaki is not important to me.”

You relax slightly at that—until he keeps going. You can feel the but coming before he even says it.

“But—” He speaks carefully, almost too much so, “I need you to understand that nothing inappropriate is happening between us.”

You arch an eyebrow at him, waiting.

Nothing inappropriate? Umm…

He exhales slowly, his fingers curling around the base of his water glass but not lifting it. “She’s a colleague. A frustrating one sometimes, but still a colleague. Yes, she sits on my desk briefly sometimes, yes, she makes ridiculous comments—but I don’t encourage it. I’m not entertaining her, if that’s what you think.”

The way he says it isn’t defensive in tone, but there’s an edge there, something faintly clipped. 

“You said you don’t believe I would cheat on you, correct?” His voice softens at the end, but the question lands heavy.

You hold his gaze, unflinching. “Yes, but it’s not about cheating. You’re crossing lines, Kento. Having her in your car is not acceptable to me. Under what circumstance do you think that is okay?”

He exhales again, his jaw clenching just slightly. “She lives near the station I pass on the way from work. She is currently having car issues. I was only trying to be courteous. Nothing more.”

“Kento.” You don’t raise your voice, but his name comes out sharp, a warning.

He presses his lips together, watching you for a beat. “I should have told you about her working with me.” He concedes, and you catch the smallest flicker of guilt in his eyes. “You’re right about that, but again, I didn’t mention it because I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Didn’t think it mattered?” You repeat flatly.

“I didn’t think she mattered.” He corrects. “Because she doesn’t. Not to me.”

The words are firm, almost too firm, like he’s trying to make that point clear to you—and maybe to himself.

His gaze softens, his shoulders loosening slightly as he leans forward just a little. “You are the person I come home to. The person I love. That hasn’t changed. Kanzaki Reika doesn’t matter.”

It should make you feel better, but it doesn’t, because beneath his calm, there’s that slight defensive edge. That tiny stubborn streak that says he still doesn’t fully understand why this cuts as deep as it does.

You lean back in your chair, keeping your expression steady. “Then stop letting her act like she does matter.”

His fingers tighten around his glass for a second before he finally lifts it, taking a slow sip like he’s giving himself a beat to respond. When he sets it back down, his voice is softer again, but still cautious.

“I’ll talk to her.” He nods. “If this is hurting you, then I’ll set boundaries. I should’ve done that already.”

The way his jaw flexes as he says it tells you he doesn’t fully agree with how big of a deal this is, and that doesn’t sit right with you.

The tension between you stretches tight as a bowstring, the low murmur of the other diners fading into the background as you lean forward slightly, resting your forearms on the table.

“I need you to correct her.” Your voice remains firm. “Immediately. If she calls you her work husband again—you shut that down. If she gives you a pet name? You shut it down. If she ever sits on your desk again, you shut that all the way down. Right there. In the moment.”

He exhales through his nose, nodding once, measured. “You’re right. Those things are inappropriate, and I should’ve stopped them already. I’ll make it clear to her.”

You don’t move, and you don’t soften. “No brushing it off. No quiet corrections behind closed doors. No pretending it didn’t happen. You stop it. On the spot.”

“Understood.”

The calm agreement softens the air for half a second, but you aren’t done.

“And Kento—” You continue, your voice steady and unwavering, “I don’t want you talking to her outside of what’s necessary for work. Keep it about work. You don’t need to be sitting around talking like life is sweet. You keep it about work. Period.”

That’s when his composure shifts—not dramatically, but enough. His eyes narrow just slightly, and for the first time in the conversation, his posture straightens in a way that feels less agreeable and much more defensive.

“You’re asking me not to talk to a coworker?” His tone is still calm, still respectful, but there’s a hard edge under it now.

“I’m asking you to keep it professional.” You clarify sharply. “I didn’t say to ignore her. I said to keep it about work. You don’t need to be laughing with her on a client call. You don’t need to be sending her late-night texts about how stressed you are.” That’s not professional. That’s not boundaries.”

Nanami’s hands are now folded neatly on the table, a subtle sign he’s trying to keep his control.

“I understand boundaries.” The controlled cadence of his words makes it feel more like he’s defending himself than agreeing. “But I can’t ignore her, either. This isn’t personal life, this is work. She’s a member of my team, and she handles several important accounts. I can’t just stop talking to her. I can’t pretend this place is a bubble I control entirely. I can correct behavior. I can draw lines, but I’m not going to be cold to someone who’s part of my professional team.”

You tilt your head slightly, unimpressed. “Once again, I didn’t say ignore her. I said keep it about work. She’s not your friend. You should not be acting all buddy-buddy—and now I’m here forced to draw a line you should’ve drawn from day one.”

Something flickers in his eyes—annoyance? Frustration? Still he keeps his voice even and controlled, like he’s weighing every word before he says it.

“You’re asking me to change how I interact with someone I see every day for hours.” He says slowly. “And I’ll do that, but you need to understand—work isn’t just numbers and silence. People talk. Teams talk. I can’t regulate every interaction to meet that standard.”

You sit back slightly, eyes narrowing. “I’m not asking you to regulate every interaction. I’m asking you not to indulge her. You don’t need to cackle with her about inside jokes, you don’t need to let her play Kentochi and work wife with you. If you can’t see the difference between polite conversation and what you’re doing now, then that’s part of the problem.”

Nanami’s fingers tap once against his water glass before he stops himself, his expression still composed, but the subtle tension in his shoulders gives him away.

“It would be completely unprofessional to cut off a coworker like that.” His tone is still measured, but firmer now, like he’s digging his heels in.

This is not how you thought this conversation was going to go at all.

You blink at him, disbelief flickering across your face. “I’m not going to keep repeating myself—I’m not asking you to cut her off. I’m saying strictly business.”

He pauses, really looking at you for a beat before replying. “You do realize this could affect my performance at work, right?”

Your head tilts, incredulous. “By not letting some girl flirt with you? First of all, that’s an HR violation—”

He exhales, running a hand briefly through his hair. “I will correct her on those things, I already said that. But no, I can’t just keep every interaction to dry, basic conversation.” He holds your gaze. “We work on overlapping accounts. A lot of them. The familiarity helps. It builds trust with clients. It leads to better sales.”

You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms slowly, staring at him like you’re seeing him for the first time. “And it’s aaaall about the money, right? Got it.”

His gaze meets yours, unwavering. “It’s always been about the money. My love, I can’t live the way I do without it. My apartment, the things in it, my car—it’s not possible without the money. That’s why I got into this industry in the first place. I agree Kanzaki should have some boundaries set—one hundred percent—so that you feel comfortable—”

“Stop.” You lean forward now, hand in the air. “Did you hear what you just said to me?”

He blinks. “What—?”

“So that I feel comfortable. Not because what she’s doing is wildly unprofessional. Not because it’s out of line. Not because it’s disrespectful to me or to you or to this relationship. No, it’s about making me comfortable.” You scoff. “So what—this whole thing is just to shut me up?”

You stare at him. Really stare, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t recognize the man across from you. The way he’s speaking—measured, calculating, transactional—it doesn’t sound like your Kento.

Nanami’s brows furrow slightly, his tone still calm but clipped. “What? No—No. That’s not what I was saying.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head, the sound shaky enough to betray the tightness in your chest. “No, you did say that though—and I don’t think you need a chance to rephrase. I think it came out right the first time.”

His jaw flexes as he tries to hold his ground, but you don’t let him speak.

“Did you know Kanzaki has a reputation for this kind of shit? Rumors from Osaka. She’s done this before multiple times. Hooking up with taken men. Tearing families apart. Making it messy. Starting rumors. That’s who she is. She is a virus in every office she steps into.”

Nanami’s brows furrow deeper. “That’s not fair, bringing up someone’s past—”

“You don’t get to say that to me… because even knowing what I knew, I still tried to see past the rumors. I still tried to give her the benefit of the doubt… Damn—” You exhale, “She’s good.”

You laugh again, soft and shaky, looking away for a second as you steady yourself, blinking hard to keep the tears from spilling over. When you look back at him, your gaze is steady, sharp, even if your voice wavers just barely.

“For you to sit there and insinuate I’m the only one with a problem? That it’s all just work and I’m making too much of it?” You lean forward, your voice lower, sharper. “That’s very insulting, Kento. Very insulting.”

“Hold on my love, that’s not fair—”

“No. What’s not fair is sitting across from the man I love and hearing him tell me he won’t distance himself from a woman who’s been blatantly inappropriate just because she helps with sales. What’s not fair is watching her make a mockery of our relationship in front of me while you sit there like you don’t see it. What’s not fair is you thinking this is about comfort—like I’m just being emotional and not reacting to what’s right in front of my fucking face.”

He’s quiet now, but he’s still not contrite. Still not seeing it.

You lean forward one last time.

“Look me in the eye, Kento, and tell me honestly—if the roles were reversed? If I had a coworker calling me pet names, sitting on my desk, texting me late at night, and I didn’t tell you about any of it until he was practically in your face, would you be calm? Would you be reasonable? Would you sit there and say, ‘It helps my sales,’ and move on?”

Nanami’s expression shifts—something flickers in his eyes, guilt maybe, or realization, but you’re too wound up to let it soothe you.

The sea breeze feels colder now, sharper against your skin despite the sun still spilling golden light over the terrace. Nanami’s fingers are laced together on the table, his shoulders squared, his tone still that maddening and controlled, but you can hear that subtle crack of irritation slipping through his words.

“You’re right. That would upset me. I’m not trying to invalidate how you feel, but you’re acting as if this job has some flexible schedule I get to design around our relationship. It’s not, and you knew that when we first started dating. I’m in finance, and that means late nights. Long hours. Client dinners. Like last week—I had dinner with Kanzaki and the Tanaka’s. They’re one of our biggest clients. I don’t want to go to those things, but I have to. It’s work, not pleasure.” 

Your breath catches halfway through his sentence, but not for the reason he thinks.

Dinner?

Dinner with Kanzaki last week. You didn’t know about that… no, you didn’t know about that at ALL.

“I know your job is demanding too, but a standard 9 to 5 just doesn’t—” He stops himself, glancing at your face now, seeing something shift. “It doesn’t pay the bills like this does, and you would understand if you were in my position. It doesn’t have the same weight. What I do pays for the life I’m trying to build with you.”

The words blur together after that dinner comment, his voice still explaining, still rationalizing, but it’s like the sound fades out. The ocean and the chatter of nearby tables all turns into static in your head. All you can focus on is that one simple fact: he went out to dinner with her and didn’t tell you.

When you finally drag yourself back to the present, he’s still talking. He is finishing some point about familiarity and building trust with clients. You can’t even feel anger yet, not fully. You’re just… still.

You place your hands on the table slowly, and take a long, heavy pause. “Kento.”

Your voice is quiet, flat, too still for the way your heart is hammering. His brows draw together slightly at your tone. He’s worried. Though your tone is calm, it’s highly unusual for him.

“I’m going to go.”

Something in his expression flickers—surprise, maybe, or that faint trace of panic he always hides so well. 

“What?”

You inhale slowly, straightening in your seat, your gaze unwavering. “I love you—I love you so much, but I’m not doing this right now. I can’t.”

“Wait—”

“I think we may have made the mistake of moving too fast.” You continue, your words clean, and not to be misinterpreted. “We fell in love before we ever had a real fight. Before we knew what it would actually take to maintain something like this. Before we ever set a single boundary. Yeah… this is my boundary. This is beyond my boundary.”

“Please, my love, don’t—”

“No. Listen to me.” Your voice tightens just slightly, “I believe you aren’t interested in her romantically. I believe you’ve never cheated. Hell, I believe you never would. But to sit here and defend this behavior for the sake of money? That’s where I draw the line. Casually telling me that you went out to dinner with another woman after omitting it for a week? That’s where I draw the line.”

He opens his mouth, but you don’t let him get a word in.

“And to imply that my work ethic isn’t on your level because I work a ‘regular’ 9 to 5? That’s where I draw the fucking line.”

“Hold on. I think things are getting a bit convoluted. Listen to me, please—” He starts, tone urgent now, but you don’t stop.

“Sorry if I didn’t mention—” You snap, voice suddenly louder, trembling just slightly, “The dinners I cook for you every night. Or the fact that I clean your apartment because you’re too tired to do it yourself. Or your dry cleaning I pick up on my lunch break. Or the way I move my entire schedule around to see you for whatever crumbs of time you have left between your meetings and your late nights.”

Your hands curl into fists on the table. Your nails dig into your palms.

“Sorry if I didn’t lead with the fact that I come home from work—after hours of overtime—and still try to make space for you. To make this work. To make this feel like something worth holding onto… You’re right, Kento. I could never understand you like Kanzaki does. She knows what it means to hustle, right? To grind for the big money. To go to dinner with clients. To stay late. To do all the important things I apparently don’t understand because I’m just your run-of-the-mill, regular-degular 9 to 5 office worker.”

“Please, my love.” He says quickly, his voice breaking through his usual calm, almost desperate. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I have to make sacrifices—very long hours, events outside the office so that we can live more comfortably. I apologize for not telling you. Sometimes I forget—”

“You didn’t just forget to tell me about that dinner, Kento. You chose not to. You’re not being transparent, and you can dress it up however you want—call it professionalism, call it hustle, call it sacrifice—but to me? It just looks like you stopped thinking about me the moment she became useful to you.”

You grab your bag and stand up as you prepare to leave. Your hand trembles slightly as you slide your sunglasses back on, but the tears are already slipping down your cheeks—silent and steady. They streak down beneath the dark lenses and you don't wipe them away.

You can’t even look at him.

Nanami stands as you do, like it’s instinct, like his body is trying to reach yours before his words can. His voice is calm, but fraying at the edges now.

“Please.” He reaches his hand out for yours. “Let’s not end it like this. We can talk this through.”

You shake your head, slow and controlled. “I’m done talking right now.”

He falters. “I said I’d correct her. I meant that. I will.”

“That’s not the point.” You snap, voice trembling from restraint. “You said you’d correct her—but you also said you won’t keep it about business.”

You finally turn toward him then. Not fully. Just enough for your voice to hit him directly.

“She’s out here bragging about how you two are laughing so hard you have to mute during a call. Kento—I don’t even know you to act like that. You barely have the energy to smile when you come home lately. You didn’t tell me when she started. You didn’t tell me you two have overlapping clientele. You didn’t tell me about the dinner last week.”

Your voice cracks—just a little.

“And I don’t even have the strength to ask you what day it was, because if it was the night you canceled our date… I think that would break me. Truly.”

Nanami takes a step closer, palms open, voice low and steady. “You know that’s not what happened—”

“I don’t know that.” You cut in, sharp. “Because you didn’t tell me.”

He goes quiet. The silence between you is alive with things unspoken, and you’re the only one brave enough to give them shape.

“Do I have more time than you because of my job? Yes. But that doesn’t make me less of a hard worker. I work hard. I finish early to be with you. Not to bother you. Not to interrupt your work. To just… be beside you. To feed you. To love on you.” You press your lips together, voice trembling, furious. “...and you chose this random girl over us?”

Nanami steps forward again, desperate now. “I’m not choosing her. That’s not even an option—”

“I don’t want you to be friendly with her, Kento. I don’t.” The words land heavy and he stops.

Your jaw clenches, and you finally face him fully now, your cheeks wet under your glasses.

“You and her alone together, most nights? It doesn’t sit right with me.”

He sighs heavily, reaching for your hand. His thumb rubbing against your knuckles. “This isn’t about you and Kanzaki. It’s not even about her. I care about you, and our future. That’s it. She’s just a piece in a bigger puzzle. I need you to understand that getting these clients in line sets us up financially. It’s the right path.”

You freeze, your body tenses like you’ve been slapped, and you pull your hand from his.

You’re at the end of your rope. “Kento, you are not struggling!” You slightly raise your voice.

His eyes widen, shocked, but you don’t stop.

“You’re not scraping by. You’re not broke. You’re not in any kind of position that warrants sacrificing basic boundaries for the sake of a sale. You have a Cartier watch on your wrist right now as we speak.”

He looks down instinctively. Like he forgot it was even there.

“You live in a high-rise that costs four times my rent. Your shoes cost more than my grocery bill for the month. And you’re trying to justify this woman hanging all over you because it’ll make things easier financially?”

You take a breath. A deep, shaking one. Then lower your voice—dead calm. “There are things in life more important than money.” Your tone drops to something final. “I really don’t want you to continue spending late nights with Kanzaki.”

He looks at you, really looks, and he doesn’t have anything to say. He knows—this isn’t a request. This is a line.

Nanami watches you, eyes searching your face like he’s trying to find some thread of connection still left to pull on. He’s not angry or upset. He’s just quiet and practical in that way that’s starting to feel less like stability and more like detachment.

“I know it doesn’t feel fair, but I’m doing what I think is right for us. These clients matter. The time I’m putting in now sets us up for more freedom later. More stability. I’m not choosing Kanzaki. I never would. I’m choosing the future. The security we both benefit from.”

He says it like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world. Like you’re supposed to hear that and feel reassured. Like he doesn’t even see what’s bleeding out right in front of him.

You nod slowly, mouth twitching in something that looks like agreement, but it’s laced with bitter, trembling silence. 

“Fine.” You speak in a flat tone.” Spend all the late nights you want.”

He blinks. “That’s not what I—”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand, sunglasses still hiding your soaked cheeks. “No, no, no—it’s fine. You have my blessing. Make that money, baby.”

He flinches at the sarcasm, but you’re already rolling forward.

“Because that’s what I fell in love with, right? Nanami Kento, the walking wallet.”

Your voice tightens, gets sharper with every word.

“The man who buys and sells stocks for a living. Finesses the rich. Drops cash for my weekly mani-pedis. The one who takes care of everything financially—the big man in the high-rise, right?”

His eyes study you now like he’s surprised by your reaction to all of this.

“Not Kento, the man with integrity. Not the man who’d drive twenty miles through snow just to help me look for a missing earring. Not the man who made time, found time, to remind me I mattered to him. Not the one who spoke love fluently—words of affirmation, acts of service, quality time—even when his schedule was brutal.”

Your voice breaks slightly there, but you bite it down.

“No. That version of you? He’s too inconvenient now. Doesn’t fit the hustle. Doesn’t close the deal. Doesn’t look good on the quarterly reports.”

Nanami’s jaw clenches. “Don’t do that. That’s not fair—”

You laugh once—hollow. “You think this is about fairness? I won’t stop you, Kento. If you really believe the degradation of our relationship is what’s best for our wallets, then by all means… keep going. I won’t fight you. I’ll trust your judgment. You’ve never steered us wrong before. Right?”

He stares at you—silent. Still.

“I know you’ll make the choice that’s best for both of us in the long run.” Then you inhale, and the smallest tremor escapes on the exhale. “In the meantime—I’m gonna go.”

You adjust your bag on your shoulder, turn without another word, and walk away.

You move quickly. You’re halfway down the stone steps leading to the sidewalk when you hear his footsteps behind you. You don’t stop, but you slow just enough for him to catch up—something in your gut telling you he would. Of course he would. 

“Wait.” He’s a little breathless, reaching out—his hand grazing your elbow. “Please. Just give me one more minute.”

You pause. The breeze from the sea curls around the hem of your dress. You keep your sunglasses on, even though they’re already starting to fog from the heat of your skin.

He steps in front of you now, turning so you’re face-to-face again—just outside the café, the ocean behind you both, waves crashing like the drumbeat of everything unsaid.

“I’m sorry. I am. I’m… I’m really sorry.”

His voice is quiet. Not like before. Not the corporate calm. Not the composed logic. This is more raw. Rougher around the edges.

“I wasn’t listening. Not really. I was defending a position because I thought I was doing what’s best, and I didn’t stop to think about how it was making you feel.”

You study his face. The lines around his mouth, the furrow of his brow, the slight shift in his voice that tells you he means it… but even as the words land, there’s something beneath them. Something small and shaky. An apology made of guilt and urgency, not true understanding.

“I don’t want to lose you. I can’t.” He continues. “I’ve built so much around you—with you. You’ve become part of everything—every plan, every dream, every damn heartbeat. I’ve planned this future in my head—our future—and if you’re not in it... I don’t want it. You’re in all of my plans. All of my milestones mean nothing if you’re not present.”

You don’t respond. You just let him speak.

“I’ll set real boundaries with her. Not just correct things. I’ll distance myself. I’ll make it professional. Nothing more. No late nights unless absolutely necessary. No extra dinners. No pet names. No familiarity. None of it. I’ll be more transparent. I’ll be more present.”

He steps closer. 

“And I’ll make time for us again. Like I used to. Not just for you to be beside me, but with me.”

The wind picks up slightly, rustling your hair beneath the cap. You watch him quietly, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes.

“I’m not asking you to forget any of this. I know the damage is done. But I’m asking you to let me fix it.” He says it like he means it. Like he’s made a decision. 

But something about it still feels… temporary. Like it’s a decision made here in this moment. Like something that sounds good on paper, but will start to unravel the moment the workload doubles or another client dinner gets scheduled.

Still, you nod. Once. You say nothing at first. You just look at him and something in your chest loosens, but not entirely.

“Okay.” You whisper. “Okay, Kento.”

He reaches out, cautiously, and you let him hold your hand. You walk together back toward the restaurant, and the silence between you is softer now, less biting—but still heavy. 

You accept the apology, but the microfracture remains and you feel it deep inside your chest—that quiet, whispering unease that maybe next time you won’t be able to walk away. because you’ll already be gone.

Nanami holds your hand gently, thumb caressing the back of it as if he’s still trying to soothe some invisible bruise. His voice is soft when he speaks again, laced with sincerity and quiet urgency.

“I love you more than anything. I love you so much.”

You close your eyes, breathing in the moment—but the ache in your chest doesn’t disappear.

“I don’t ever want to put you in a position where you feel uncomfortable or uneasy about anything that goes on in my professional life.”

Ah, there it is. That phrase. 

Why does he keep saying that? Why does he keep framing this like it’s your discomfort alone? Like this is just a matter of you feeling off balance, and not something that would unsettle anyone?

Why wouldn’t he be uncomfortable too? Why doesn’t that bother him? It’s not about you feeling uncomfortable. It’s about Kanzaki being wrong for doing it, and Nanami being equally as wrong for letting it slide.

It doesn’t feel malicious. It doesn’t even feel dismissive. Just incomplete. A subtle but persistent signal that this apology, this promise, is being built on your pain—not his understanding.

You say nothing due to mental exhaustion, but maybe you should have. Maybe it’s just poor wording. Maybe he doesn’t realize how it sounds. Maybe he’s just trying to say what he thinks you need to hear.

You don’t want to spiral. You don’t want to tear down what he’s trying to rebuild, so you nod again.

He steps in close, sliding his arm around your waist, and then he kisses you—long, slow, and deep. His other hand moves to the side of your face, holding you there like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the ground. For a moment, you believe him. For a moment, you let yourself sink into it.

You kiss him back with a quiet sadness that speaks to everything still lodged between you. A kiss full of questions that yearn to be answered.

When he finally pulls back, his voice is tender. “Do you want to order now?” He asks, nodding toward the café. “Grab lunch? Sit back down?”

You shake your head, pulling your hair behind your ear. “No. I know you left work for this. I don’t want you to hang around when you should be at the office.”

He frowns, just slightly. “There’s nothing more important than being here with you.”

Before you can protest again, he tilts your chin up gently and kisses you once more. This time shorter—sweeter. He lifts your sunglasses carefully, just enough to see your eyes. His thumb grazes your cheek as he wipes away what’s left of the tears.

“I won’t leave when you’re still upset.”

“I’m not upset.” You speak quietly. “I’m just… processing.”

“Do you want to talk it out some more?”

You shake your head again. “I just need a beat. That’s all.”

He watches you for a moment—reading your face, making sure he believes you—then finally nods.

“Alright, but I’m not leaving you here alone. I’ll text Kaya. She can meet you here. That way, you’re not by yourself.”

You bite your lip, nod slowly, grateful.

He leans in one more time, presses a kiss to your forehead. Still holding your hand, he walks you back toward the patio like you’re something fragile and precious.

The host sees you returning and leads you back to your seaside table.

The sun is slightly lower now, casting a gold wash over the water. You sit down with Nanami as he waits for Kaya to arrive. You exhale—still processing. Still hurting. 

For the first time since your relationship started, you feel kind of awkward. You don’t know what to say. You don’t want to talk. You feel unsettled in the resolution. Fuck! Kaya can’t get here quick enough. The wait for her arrival feels like it stretches forever.

Nanami sits across from you, posture still composed, gaze drifting between you and the ocean like he’s trying to seem casual—but you both know it’s not. You can feel the stiffness in the air. Every time your eyes meet, there’s this half-second pause where it’s like both of you are deciding whether to keep talking or just say something surface level and move on.

There’s so much more to say, but you don’t even know how to start, or if now’s even the time to try—and underneath all of it, something gnaws at your gut.

Your own secret about last night with Kusakabe. It was less of a secret and more of a… withheld fact???

The quiet, late-night conversation with a man who made you laugh harder than you’d laughed in weeks. The man whose presence made your heart race in a way that was more than friendly. You were very much so attracted to him and it was the reason you couldn’t exchange info.

Nothing happened. No lines were crossed, but the truth is—if your relationship wasn’t so cracked… you would’ve told Nanami about that night. You would’ve sent him a text with a laughing emoji about how you beat this random sorcerer’s ass in all these games…

But instead, you kept it to yourself, and that silence was ironically loud.

You stare out at the ocean, arms crossed lightly, lips pressed together, waiting for something to change in the atmosphere when the waitress finally comes over.

“Hello! Are you two ready to order?” She asks sweetly.

You blink like you’ve just woken up. “Oh my goodness, um, I haven’t even looked at the menu.”

You turn toward Nanami. “Kento, do you know what you want?”

He shakes his head, giving the tiniest polite smile. “Just a tonic water, please.”

You nod. “I’ll have the Grilled Buri with yuzu kosho.”

Then, almost forgetting, you glance up again. “Actually—can I also get the Shio Ramen with clams and seaweed? My friend’s on her way. She should be here in about 25 minutes.”

The waitress jots it down with a smile. “No problem. I’ll space the food out accordingly.”

You thank her, watching her walk away like she just saved you from having to say anything meaningful.

Nanami adjusts the collar on his shirt slightly. “This place really is beautiful.”

You nod. “Yeah… I’m glad we came. It’s nice.”

“You can hear the waves from here.”

“I know. It’s kind of peaceful.”

And so it goes- the idle small talk, the gentle rhythm of safe conversation that dances around the things neither of you wants to confront again. The time stretches, and honestly, every minute feels like five. Unfortunately time never worked like this when you were good.

Finally, like an angel, you hear her before you see her. Heels clacking confidently on the deck. The soft rustle of a dress. The familiar laugh that brings you relief.

You turn just as Kaya comes into view—gorgeous. The sun glints off her glowing skin, and somehow she’s in a long-sleeved version of your same dress. Only hers shows just a little more cleavage. Blonde hair half-up, half-down. Oversized sunglasses perched perfectly on her face. Platform heels clicking on the hard wood.

She scans the patio until her eyes lock on yours.

“Did we coordinate outfits?!” She grins, walking fast now. “You look like a sad incognito mermaid! What the hell?”

You stand, and she practically lunges into a hug, arms wrapping tight around you. You cling to her, and for a second you feel okay.

Nanami stands and gives her a light bow. “Thank you for coming. Really.”

Kaya gives him a practiced, polite smile. “Of course.”

Then he leans in, kisses you long—right there, like he needs it to land. His hand at your waist, his lips lingering longer than they did earlier. He pulls back, eyes searching yours again.

“I love you so much, my love. I’ll call you later, alright?”

You smile. It's a little crooked. Not entirely insincere—but not completely real, either.

“Okay.” You speak softly.

You wave him off as he walks away. He doesn’t look back. Just adjusts his collar and keeps moving.

You feel Kaya’s eyes on you before you’ve even sit back down again.

You glance at her, and sure enough—she’s slowly pulling her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. “I know you fuckin’ lyin’.”

You blink. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

“That’s the problem!” She throws her hands up. “That was the most awkward shit I’ve ever walked into. Babe. Hello? I need details now.”

You sigh, glance out at the water, and reach for your drink. “Girl…” You murmur. “Where do I even begin?”

Before you can even open your mouth to start, the waitress reappears like divine intervention—arms full of steaming plates.

“Grilled Buri with yuzu kosho.” She announces, placing the artfully plated fish in front of you with a gentle smile. “And Shio Ramen with clams and seaweed for the lady joining us.”

“Ooooh yes.” Kaya’s eyes light up as she looks at the food. “You know me too well.” She gives you a quick wink. “Okay now spill it all. I’m ready to be your ear!”

You look at the plate. The food smells divine—warm, citrusy, crisp—but suddenly, you’ve got no appetite. You pick up your chopsticks anyway, but only to give your hands something to do.

You start slow, like your mouth isn’t sure it wants to betray your chest, but still, you tell her everything.

How last night you stopped by the office just to say hi to Nanami and it did not go as planned by a long shot.

How you walked in and saw Reika on his desk, in a tight dress, legs crossed like she owned the damn building.

How she called him Kentochi like it was a running joke between them. How she told you with that dumbass smile that they were work husband and wife and how he texts her when he’s stressed.

How Nanami didn’t say a single word. Not to shut her down. Not to defend you. Not even to look at you with an ounce of what the fuck is this?

Kaya stares at you like you just told her you saw a special grade curse in the restaurant.

“Wait. So Nanami didn’t tell her to get the fuck off his desk?” She asks for clarity.  “Didn’t tell the bitch to stop making shit up?!”

You shake your head. “No, and she wasn’t making it up. That actually happened.”

Kaya slams her chopsticks down—gently, but the intent is clear. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You push the food around on your plate. “Then I found out he went to a dinner with her well, work dinner with big clients supposedly. But… he never told me. Not a text. Not a ‘Hey babe, working late with Kanzaki.’ Nothing.”

Kaya’s face twists. “No. Uh-uh. That’s some stealth level secrecy. What the fuck?”

“And now.” You continue, voice tight, “He keeps saying he’s sorry that it made me uncomfortable. Like I’m the only one who should be uncomfortable. Like he’s not. Like she didn’t cross the line and he just sat there, letting her dangle her legs on his desk like a damn trophy.”

Kaya exhales hard and sits back, arms crossed. “I warned you about her.”

“I know—”

“No. I warned you. The rumors from her last office are still floating around. They said that girl is strategic. Always goes for the married ones or the stable ones. She wants leverage. It’s not about love—it’s about power.”

You glance at her sharply. “But what the hell could she want Kento for? He’s at the top of his office, but he still has a boss. Would she not want to go for his boss? Why my man?”

“Kento the Closer. He’s a good man to leech off of.” She scoffs. “He wants to sit there all stoic and above-it-all, but he’s being prayed on. Kanzaki Reika is smart. I’ll give her that. There’s a reason she and Nanami share clients. She’s good at her job.”

She leans forward now, eyes narrowing.

“But she knows exactly what she’s doing, wearing tight dresses to work and sitting on my best friend’s man’s desk. That’s not subtle. She wanted you to see that.”

You sigh, long and deep.

“And what the hell is wrong with Nanami?” Kaya continues, picking up her chopsticks again but just pointing them now. “I know he doesn’t always wear his glasses, but shit—I didn’t think he was that blind. If he lets you get away, he’s a dumbass too.”

You glance away, out at the water again. The sun has shifted now, casting a golden shimmer across the sea. It should feel peaceful, but your stomach is still tangled in knots.

Kaya narrows her eyes at you. “Well what did you do last night when you saw that? You didn’t confront them?”

You pause. Your fingers curl around your glass. Slowly, you lift your hands and press your palms over your face.

“Oh my God.” Kaya breathes. “What?”

You say nothing. Goodness you are so embarrassed? Ashamed? Reluctant?

“Bitch, what?!”

You drop your hands, eyes wide and guilty. “I went to the arcade.”

She blinks. “Okay… and?”

You hesitate. Your voice barely above a whisper. “And… I met this guy.”

Kaya slams her chopsticks down again. “Bitch, tell me RIGHT NOW.”

You stare at your food for a moment, then glance back up at Kaya. “We had a great time. He was really handsome. Tall, broad, brown hair… and apparently he’s alumni. Said he knew who I was—like knew.”

Kaya’s freezes, her eyes narrowing dramatically. “Oh shit! You met Atsuya Kusakabe.”

Your eyes go wide. You nearly choke on your water.

“Why do you know that?!” You hiss, glancing around like you just got caught committing treason. “Why do you know that?!”

She grins. “Because his ass randomly RSVP’d in the group chat last night all happy and shit using emoji’s. Just say you’re coming or not like everyone else. I don’t need to see stars and fists and lollipops. He used the lollipop emoji. What does that even mean? Either way, I didn’t think anything of it, but girl—it adds up now.”

You gasp at her. “He RSVP’d like that? What?!”

“Uh huh. I was like damn I have never felt someone’s joy come through a phone before. It also makes sense because, let’s be real, that’s your type.”

Your jaw drops. “Kaya!”

She smirks and leans in. “Don’t even try to lie. You’re blushing right now.”

You shake your head quickly. “I’m not blushing.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Girl—”

“It’s hot outside. I’ve been in the sun for hours. I’m overheating.”

Kaya crosses her arms, chewing her food slowly. “Then why are you hiding a smile?”

You stiffen. “I’m not smiling.”

“I’m looking right at you. I can see your teeth.”

You scowl. “This is my snarl.”

Kaya grins. “You’re so cute… Anyway, what all happened last night?”

You sigh, pulling your hair behind your ear. “Literally just that. We were at the arcade for a few hours. He approached me on some kind of smug little shit move, but it was… it was fun. We played a bunch of games. We got a beer. Just talked. It was nice. It was really nice.”

Kaya hums knowingly. “Did you get his number?”

You shoot her a look. “Kaya. I’m in a relationship. Of course I didn’t get his number.”

“Okay, okay.” She holds up her hands. “Damn.”

You exhale and look out over the water again. “He was funny. He was handsome. He was saying all the right things. He was respectful. I couldn’t… I couldn’t get his number. That’s a line. I know that I can’t put myself in that position because the chemistry was very real, and I respect my relationship.”

Kaya studies you for a moment. “So why are you being weird about it? You’re acting like you cheated or something. You just hung out with some guy.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell Kento about it, and that feels wrong.”

Kaya scoffs. “He didn’t tell you about his fucking romantic evening with Kanzaki and the Tachibana’s.”

“Tanaka’s,” you correct.

“Whatever!” She snaps. “He didn’t tell you about that. He didn’t tell you this bitch was whispering slick shit in his ear while she was sitting in a spit roast on his desk.”

You choke on your food. “A spit roast?!”

“Hell yeah!” She laughs. “She was posted up like she lives there. Legs swinging like a fucking hog in stilettos, and he’s over there acting unbothered, not telling you shit.”

You wipe your eyes, trying not to laugh too hard. “I hate you.”

She grins, her expression softening. “Babe. You had a nice night out with a new friend. That’s it. As far as I’m concerned, you did nothing wrong. Hell, as far as morality goes, you did nothing wrong.”

You stare at her for a moment, really listening.

“I’m dead serious, girl. You’re beating yourself up for being human. You were lonely. You needed a break. You found someone who gave you a moment to breathe. That’s not betrayal. You didn’t take this man’s number because you knew it could compromise your relationship. Did Nanami think that far ahead?”

You shake your head slowly, her words sinking in deeper than you expect. Maybe it wasn’t wrong, but that doesn’t make the whole situation right either.

Kaya twirls her chopsticks between her fingers, “So, what now?”

You sigh, pushing your plate aside and watching the ocean roll in the distance. The breeze has cooled slightly, but it doesn’t calm the knot still sitting in your stomach.

“I don’t know.” You speak candidly. “I know I need to have another conversation with him. A real one. About how I feel… But I was just done arguing today. We were already cracked open, and he seemed genuine and sincere about correcting Kanzaki. And about being more open. I’m just hoping she backs off. We can talk about semantics later.”

Kaya raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. Then she tilts her head with that mischievous glint in her eye. “So this means you’re going to the reunion for sure now, right?”

You shrug. “Guess I gotta.”

She grimaces immediately. “Whew. That love triangle is gonna be crazy.”

“There is no love triangle! I’m in love with Kento only. I’m not gonna give up on us because of one fight. It’s our first fight.”

Kaya lifts both hands in mock surrender. “I’m not saying you gotta give anything up. But just because it’s your first fight doesn’t make it any less monumental. He really crossed the line with you, and as your best friend? He crossed the line with me too.”

You roll your eyes. “He didn’t fuck up that bad. Give him a break.”

She gives you a look. “That you know of. Girl, he hid a dinner with a woman he’s clearly attracted to. Didn’t mention she was his new coworker for over a month. Imagine if Kusakabe started working in HR and you didn’t say shit to Nanami. You think he’d be calm? Because I don’t.”

Damn. That really wasn’t cool of him. You bite your lip, chewing on the thought like it’s bitter.

Kaya pulls out her phone and starts tapping away.

Your eyes narrow. “Who are you texting?”

She doesn’t even look up. “Some friends. There’s a thing this weekend.”

“What kind of thing?”

“A festival. We haven’t been to one this year yet. You, me, and some other friends should go remind the world how hot you are.”

Your eyes widen. “Kaya… you are not texting Kusakabe right now.”

She looks up with a devilish grin. “Damn, I wasn’t, but now I might. You're all hot and bothered over there at the thought of him getting an invite.”

You scowl. “I’m not. I genuinely want to get my relationship back on the rails without distractions or monkey wrenches, so can you kindly delete the text you’re about to send him?”

She shows you her phone, group chat with Lambda Phi. “I wouldn’t do that. I don’t even know him like that… Yet.” She winks. “But I do want the weekend to be fun. Di and Jaz are still in town.”

You roll your eyes. “So basically we’re gonna get drunk and look hot?”

“Basically.”

The waitress returns just then, all smiles. “Everything still okay over here?”

You nod, pulling your bag up, “Yeah, I’m actually ready to pay.”

“Oh—Nanami-san already covered everything before he left. He asked us to keep the tab open in case you wanted dessert or drinks.”

You pause. “Oh. No, that’s okay. We’re probably gonna head out.”

The waitress bows. “Thank you both for dining with us today.”

You and Kaya both rise. She pulls you into a tight hug before you can even say anything.

“You gonna be okay?” She asks, still holding you.

You nod against her shoulder. “I will. I’ll be good.”

She steps back, watching your face like a detective reading a lie.

Kaya smiles, “This weekend is gonna be fun. Invite Nanami if you want—but just know I don’t really want him there.”

“Kaya—”

“No offense to him.” She runs a hand through her golden curls. “It’s just… I want this to be a girls thing, okay?”

You nod. “I get it.”

The two of you walk to the entrance, heels clicking and sneakers scuffing the stone path in rhythm.

As you wait for your cab, she sighs. “I like it around here. I don’t think I’m ready to leave yet.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You staying?”

She nods. “You go. I’ll catch the next one. I like the sun right now.”

You pull her in for another hug. “Thanks for coming out.”

“Always.”

A cab rolls up, and you slide in, waving as the door closes behind you.

As you leave your friend behind, your thoughts turn inward. Back to Nanami. Back to the line you finally drew. To the moment you knew things had shifted. The conversation may have ended… but it wasn’t over.

You set your first boundaries. They were clear, and they were ironclad. Now time would only tell if he’d respect them.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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[softcursechoso]

The Oracle: Ch. 1

JJK x Reader Toji x Reader Shiu x Reader

18+ ONLY // MDNI // NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS

I guess I'll drop this shit already. Fuck it. Been sitting in the draft for months.

Summary: You are a woman who possesses the technique of probability. When a hit on your life is placed in the hands of Toji Fushiguro, everything changes. Perhaps it is better to use you than kill you. This is the journey of how you, Toji, and Shiu become the richest scammers in Japan.

Warnings: This fic (not specifically this chapter) will contain violence, gambling, heavy drinking, hard drug usage, explicit sex and probably some other bad shit.

Words: 3.8k+

ONE MAN'S TRASH

Home : 4:44am : Roppongi

“If you’re gonna end my life then you should do it while I'm still bathing.” Your hand rose with an off white colored loofah to lather the peony scented body wash into your skin. "It'll be less to clean up."

You were relaxing in a nice hot bath in a penthouse that overlooked the city. A place like this didn't come cheap, not at all. It was worth every last yen- every last body.

Gorgeous floor to ceiling windows that opened up to the world below. Being this rich meant you had the luxury of owning a bath on the top floor knowing that everyone else beneath you was too poor to get a glimpse… not your words.

Open concept bathroom with a detached tub placed right before the windows you loved. Waterfall shower. Heated flooring. Modern sink like you'd see in every obnoxious celebrity home where the surface was flat with a nearly hidden drain. Of course, you did it first though.

This was the life you built. The life you rewrote your morals for. The life you'd die for. Not a day went past where you didn't appreciate this space. Tailor made for you- down to the personalized floral bath mats.

A beautifully darkened sky was illuminated by the millions of city lights below it. A gorgeous scene… a gorgeous end.

You sighed as you stood up from your bath, allowing the water and soap to run down your body and back into the tub where it belonged. Your eyes focused on the darkness of the cracked door that led out into your bedroom.

“We both know that I’m powerless to stop any attempt on my life from you, so I’m not entirely sure why you came incognito.” Your leg moved forward to step out of the isolated bath and onto the fuzzy white rose mat, “I’m also in no position to ask for any favors, and you’ve no reason to oblige, but… can you at least look me in the eyes when you kill me- Toji Fushiguro?”

There was a ghastly silence. It wasn’t quite uncomfortable, but perhaps a word that was indescribable. 

A large figure began to open your bathroom door. Tall and muscular. It was Toji, just as you stated. He was wearing his usual black shirt and gray pants. As he approached you he began to pull a wild looking sword from the mouth of the curse wrapped around his body.

The man hadn’t a drop of shame as he sized you up- glancing at your uncovered body from the bottom all the way up to your fearless eyes.

“Three billion yen for the head of The Oracle.” The man spoke as he drew his sword at you.

You nodded as you kept your eyes on his, “Three billion huh? Few months ago we were wiping our asses with that kind of money. Never thought I'd see you beg for scraps again.” Your hand placed on the sword- cutting your flesh on impact from its sharpness alone. “Go for the neck… and don’t hesitate. You know me, Toji. I wanna be a beautiful corpse. A dying woman's last wish."

"You knew I'd be here." He spoke bordering a question, but not quite. He knew you knew.

"Toji, if I didn't know you were coming, then my bounty wouldn't be three billion yen. I knew from the moment I met you where this would lead." 

You walked closer to the man- his sword making a micro cut in your neck as you did. A thin line of blood trailed down your neck, but you didn't care. You had no room to. 

"We had some fun didn't we?" The man spoke a question, but he knew the answer to it.

"There's just one thing I'd like to know before you end my life." Your eyes danced between his as you took in the face of your killer one last time.

"What?" He lifted his eyebrows a hair in curiosity.

"That whole thing… was any of it… real?"

10 Months Earlier

Ruby Fox Hotel : 1:11am : Kabukicho

“Huh?!” You swiftly sucked in air as your eyes shot open.

This was the life of an auditor at a rather unsuspecting hotel in Kabukicho. It was exhausting. For most, two in the morning meant it was time for sleep, but for patrons of the night it was still far too early to go to bed. 

You were in charge of making sure things ran smoothly in the underground casino. As far as the public knew, there weren't any casinos in all of Japan, but there certainly were for those who looked for them.

Wasn’t the most prestigious job by any means, and certainly nothing you could brag about, but it paid the bills. Unfortunately it was all under the table and would do nothing for your retirement, but hey~ money was money.

You heard the obnoxious low beep ringtone coming from your silver flip phone. That’s what woke you up? Your bloodshot eyes looked over and saw it was your boss calling.

“Hello?” You answered in the groggiest voice.

“Go home.” The man on the other line spoke.

“Oh, I’m fine. I am totally fine, yeah. I just took a little nap but I’m good.” You lied through your teeth as you attempted to suppress a yawn.

“Just leave the revenue report on my desk and go home.” He sounded so irritated with you. "You were supposed to have that report done hours ago. I can't have you be a part of my staff anymore. I'm gonna have to let you go."

"I'm fired?!" Your eyes widened. "You're doing this over the phone?"

Did your boss really respect you so little? Who the hell gets fired over the phone? Then again, you technically weren’t on payroll so…

"Sir, please don't do this." You stood up, pacing around the room.

The revenue report was something you had to do every month to update your boss on expenses. Where to cut back, where to spend more and things like such. Every single time you had to work on it your nights looked similar to this one.

"You're my lowest performing employee and I won't have it anymore. You're costing me too much money. You wanna hang around in the casino and put money in my dealer's pockets, fine, but you can't stay as an employee. You're not worth it."

"Sir, please! I have nothing. I can't afford to be fired right now. I'm living paycheck to paycheck. I am only behind on my work because I do everyone else's. I'm the hardest working person in this building. Lowest performing? Who are you asking?! Please..." Your voice pleaded.

"Put whatever you have done on my desk and leave." He spoke sternly to you, ignoring everything else you just said. With that the man’d hang up and leave you to it.

You’d stack your papers together and place them into a manila folder for him to review. On your desk were a few other folders- some for a few upcoming events. You’d been meaning to present it to your boss for some time now, but never got around to it. 

Perhaps if he knew exactly how hard you were really working he wouldn't fire you? No, if he was going to fire you so cruelly then he didn't deserve this.

You’d take your report and walk over to your boss’ office. Nearly two years you’ve been up to this, and you couldn’t help but envy an office like this. It was nothing like yours.

This office was big. Enough to fit four chairs and two couches. It was all so personalized in here too. There was no mistaking who this office belonged to. You waited for the day you could say the same about your own space.

You’d set the report on the desk before hastily leaving. You rubbed your temples as you made your leave. Walking through the casino used to be your least favorite part about going home. Same degenerates, but different days. 

You hated it before you made a game out of it of course. Something that no one knew about. Something that you did only to please yourself.

Pulling back the office door allowed a waft of cigarette smoke into your face. It was so strong, but strangely familiar. 

The real reason your boss fired you shouldn’t have been because of your work ethic. It should have been for what you were about to do right now- the game as aforementioned. They had no evidence though, and therefore no grounds to fire you for it. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. You were gonna go crazy tonight.

You closed your eyes tightly, and opened them to see the threads of fate everywhere before you. Messing with the lives of others was sort of fun. You were giving back in a sense. At least that’s the way you justified working at a casino.

Upon stepping out onto the floor you could see auras. Green meant good, and purple meant bad. The darker the green the better that reward would be. The darker the purple meant they were probably doing something that should stop. 

It was simple, yet complicated. You understood it, but if you were to really break it down for someone else, they may get a bit lost along the way. No matter- you understood what you were doing.

So many purples in here. Just what you’d expect in a casino. The dealers were nice and green though. One man’s aura was dark purple. Perfect for you to help.

“Hey there.” You’d tap the person on the shoulder, “If I were you I would never bet on 23 ever again.” You shrugged, but “But that’s only if I were you of course.” 

Again, it was your way of justifying to yourself about working in a casino so you could sleep at night, but now it was your way of being spiteful before you left. Give a little, take a lot.

The man was too intoxicated to question your words, so no more 23's it was. "What do you suggest?"

You shrugged, "I don't know- maybe eight."

Heeding your advice he'd bet on eight and win back a large chunk of his earnings.

You smiled triumphantly. You had no right to ever celebrate this man's earnings knowing that your casino put him in debt in the first place. Your poor human brain couldn't think like that though.

You weren’t done. Luck be a lady tonight- as they say. You were handing out all kinds of good odds. 

“7.”

“Bet red.”

“I’d use the slot machine two rows down if I were you.”

“On your next round I think you should hold.”

You must have talked this casino out of a few hundreds of thousands. Usually you’d just do one or two people, but tonight was different. You were fired, and you owed them nothing.

Turning on your heel satisfied, you'd head straight for the door now that led up. As you did, you saw something strange in your peripheral vision. It was an aura, but it wasn't green or purple like the others. This was hard to pin down. 

You felt like you couldn't move because it was so strong. It was making you dizzy. Someone's aura in here was pitch black… you had to find it. 

Holding your forehead, you'd walk toward aura hoping to at least get a glimpse. Whoever it was seemed to be incredibly disturbed. You'd seen people pawn the gold teeth in their mouth just to place one more bet, and their aura had never been pitch black.

It was nauseating to be around. You couldn't let this feeling go, and you damn sure couldn't be behind the wheel like this. Your best course of action was to head over to the bar and get some cold water. Lucky for you there really wasn't anyone over there right now.

"Hey." You waved at your former coworker, "Gimmie a water please. Heavy on the ice."

The man nodded, "Sure. You don't look so good. Why don't you just sleep at the hotel tonight?"

Honestly it wasn't a bad idea, well, if you hadn't just been fired. Sleepy and nauseous on the road was a bad combination.

"Yeah, I think I'll pass." You grabbed the water being handed to you, "Thanks."

As you took a sip, another drink was set down before you- vodka and cranberry.

"Oh, no I couldn't." You shook your head, "I have to be behind the wheel."

Your coworker pointed at a man sitting at the other end of the bar, "It was from him."

Your eyes widened as you saw that he was the one with the pitch black aura. None other than Toji Fushiguro in the flesh. Sitting casually in a black short sleeve shirt and black sweats. 

How did he get so close without you noticing? Was he there the whole time? You weren't any more sick with him being closer to you than he was before- in fact you were feeling a little better. This was weird.

You grabbed the gifted drink and walked over to the man. His eyes stayed locked on you the whole time as you did. When you finally stood beside the man, you'd set the drink down at the bar. 

"Thank you, but I don't drink at 2am during work hours with strangers." You could have sounded a bit more grateful honestly- and work hours was a stretch considering.

"Damn, way to let a guy down hm?" He arched an eyebrow.

"If you're out here trying to get some easy ass in the middle of the night, I’m not your girl, sorry. Try someone a little more pathetic.” You rolled your eyes.

This guy was really good looking. Maybe if he caught you at a different hour in a different location, then his chances would be better. 

“That’s not my goal at all. Just looking for the woman with the red keys. That would be you, correct?” His gaze was still unbreakable.

“The red keys?” You frowned slightly as you lifted your arm, seeing the set of house keys strapped to a red band. “If you lost all of your money, there’s nothing I can do for you. My word means nothing here.”

“Just tell me one thing. If I were a betting man, which table would I choose?” 

“Sir.” You placed a hand on his arm, “I think you need to-”

Your words stopped as you saw something interesting. His aura changed, and it was as if you could see everything. You, him, wealth beyond your greatest desire, happiness... There was also another side filled with sorrow, hurt, and betrayal. 

It was hard to determine which would be your outcome. Knowing that information wasn’t how your powers worked. This was the first time you’d ever seen yourself in someone else’s odds however. Who the fuck was this man?!

“Come with me, please.” You removed your hand.

“Thought you weren’t giving out easy ass in the middle of the night.” He mocked your words.

“Well, I guess this is an exception. Come on.” You rolled your eyes.

You had to play this extremely cool as you walked with the man. You were going to take him to a restricted area where not just employees could go, but certain employees. Considering you two were neither, you had to make this quick.

There was a very plain looking door that you had to use one of your red banded keys to get into. Inside was a long hallway that led to a few other rooms. The one you wanted to take Toji to was far in the back. It was the hazard room. 

It was a room your boss planned on expanding and setting up a craps table in. Nothing in there but concrete walls and stripped carpet. You knew there weren’t any cameras in here, but you still needed to make it quick.

"Okay, first of all, what's your name?" You placed your hands on your hips.

"Toji Fushiguro." He spoke so honestly as if he had nothing to lose.

“Okay, great. You see my name tag. Nice to meet you. There you go… Toji, I know you came here to kill me.” You spoke bluntly.

“If I came here to kill you I would’ve done it already. I’m not a sloppy man.”

You sized the man up with your eyes, “Sir, you’re wearing slides with no socks in a public area- sorry, that’s not the point. Okay look, if you wanna kill me then go ahead. I just got fired 30 minutes ago, I am way behind on sleep, I'm broke, and I have no money for the mountain of bills waiting for me. You’d be doing me a favor, honestly.”

“That foresight of yours working?” He poked you in the forehead, “I said I didn’t come here to kill you.”

“Okay, but someone wanted you to kill me.” You crossed your arms, “Can we be honest about that?”

“For a woman who feels like she’s in so much danger, you aren’t groveling enough.”

You sighed forcibly, “If you aren’t gonna kill me then what do you want?”

“You.” He shrugged, “One good paycheck is worth nothing compared to what you can give.”

“A good paycheck? That’s all I’m worth?” You frowned, “What bullshit.”

“Exactly. Had they offered me a billion I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you.” 

You scoffed, “One billion, hm? That’s the magic number? One billion yen and my head’s on a platter. Whatever… So what does this all mean?”

“You and I are partners now- well, not quite.” He pointed toward the door, “I’m gonna go out there, and you’re gonna tell me which table to sit at and what to do in order to win big. I gotta know if you’re the real deal.”

“That’s not how my eyes work. My power isn’t foresight like you said earlier. I can’t predict the future. What I see is probability. Good and bad.” You closed your eyes tightly and opened them again so you could see his aura once more. “It’s not foolproof, but I’m warning you right now, your aura is telling me that you have no shot at winning anything in this casino.”

"Is that why I've been losing all night?" The man rubbed the back of his neck, "Shit, you coulda told me that like 20,000 yen ago."

"How much do you have left?" Your arms crossed over your chest.

"Pretty sure I spent the last bit on that drink I bought you, feisty girl." 

You rolled your eyes so hard you could swear you saw the back of your skull. "Are you kidding me?! Why would you spend your last bit on me? You don't have one single yen left?"

He'd reach into his pocket and pull out a 1000 yen note. "I need this shit to last me."

"Is that 1000 or 10,000? Holy shit! How broke are you?"

You placed your hands on his wrist to see the bill, and there it happened again. It was like you saw a future that could be his. 

You gasped as you let go. "There's one machine in here. A slot. If we get to it in exactly 95 seconds you should be able to win big." 

"You just said I have no business in this casino. Now all of a sudden I got a chance?" Toji frowned.

“You debating me on this is just narrowing your probability, by the way.”

"How about this- if I win on this slot we become partners. Locked in to the very end. If I lose, I’m gonna kill you and cash in on the reward money."

It was a gamble ironically, but one of the highest stakes. You were able to help people here and there with small wins, but this man was different. His probability showed great wins or devastating losses. Should you team up and split the money, your whole lives would change. 

“I have nothing to lose, so sure. I like those odds.” You nodded as you agreed.

This man's luck had a chain reaction. It was like a bright comet that only came around once a millennium. If you missed it, it wouldn't come back for a long time. He was a very rare breed.

"Where's the slot?" Toji asked. 

You grinned widely, "Heh, that's the thing- I'm not too sure. Usually I can see a green aura, but I can't right now."

"Well fuck! What did it look like?!"

"Big… I'd know it if I saw it! Thing is- if we don't get to it like, now, your odds of winning ever again are almost zero."

"Shit!" The man took off out the door- sprinting with his hand pulling your wrist. "Don't you work here?! How do you not know?!"

He'd be damned if he was going to look for this slot alone.

"I'm back office! Rarely on the floor!" You huffed, "Maybe we should split up?!"

"Fuck no!" The man continued to run through the casino frantically.

He was knocking over patrons and pushing over any obstacles in the way. No one knew how dire this was.

The man adjusted his hand so it was in yours. Him pulling your wrist was not working out. He needed you to come on! As he did though, it all came back to you again. You knew which slot it was. You knew it’s location!

"Toji! Toji! There!" You yanked his arm. "Twenty seconds!"

The man ran so quickly to the slot. Both of you must have looked insane, but it didn't matter! You had important shit going on.

He'd cut two people that were getting ready to play the giant slot, as he took the bill from his pocket. It was all crumpled now so he'd have to straighten it before it went in.

"Hurry!" You grabbed two fistfulls of his shirt- pulling from anxiety.

Seemed like it took him forever to get that bill in there. Finally he was able to shove it in and quickly pull the lever.

"Did we make it?" He huffed breathlessly.

7

"I'm not sure." You held him tighter.

7

He looked at you as he could see the slot in his peripheral vision. "You gotta be fucking kidding me…"

7

Sirens sounded as the 1,000,000 yen prize was yours. Was this real? Did you really just hit the jackpot? Well- a jackpot anyway. Wasn't the highest prize in the casino, but it was more than you both had combined by the sound of it.

Without thinking, you jumped into the man's arms, and he held you tightly. Crazy how money can change people from strangers to best friends in an instant. 

Was this what it was like to be high? Not in the drug sense, but in an otherworldly way. Crazy how his connect wanted you dead. Guess one man's trash is another man's treasure.

Toji Fushiguro… your partner in crime… this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

[softcursechoso]

Memoirs from a Gilded Cage: CH. 12

Attack on Titan x Reader

Black!Reader Levi x Reader Erwin x Reader

Masterlist

MDNI 18+ ONLY //NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS

CH. 12 Warnings: Injury... like nasty wounds, blood, A LITTLE ROMANCE MAYBE

Words: 9.4k+

LIFE FOR A LIFE

??? : ??? : ???

Your eyes cracked open slowly. You were grateful. Never did you think you’d be able to do that again. Not after what happened.

The light was soft—dim—but not from torches or candles. This was sunlight?

You blinked, and pain bloomed at your ribs. Your fingers twitched on the sheets. Not scratchy. Not cold. They were... soft. Cotton?

You looked down and you were wrapped tight in bandages. Over your hip, across your stomach, and ribs. There was pressure, but it wasn't extremely tight. 

Your clothes were gone. In their place—an white button-up. Frayed at the edges, thin, and worn soft from time and washing. Not yours. You didn't own anything like this.

It smelled like him… Levi. Your eyes flicked up—and there he was sitting at the edge of the bed. Back turned, elbows on his knees, head bowed slightly. Shirtless, displaying scars like jagged lines written across his spine.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you reached out, hand moving slowly across the blankets until your fingertips skimmed his back. His muscles flinched beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away.

You pressed a little more firmly. Your palm rested between his shoulder blades. You ran your fingers gently down a new scar—still healing. Still pink. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

His breath shuddered. A slow, controlled exhale that felt like it had been locked in his lungs for days.

You could feel the way his body relaxed beneath your hand. Like some massive weight was being pulled off him an inch at a time. You scooted closer, legs moving slowly, quietly beneath the sheets.

Your hand slid down his side. His skin was warm. Your fingers trailed lower, grazing his waist, the curve of his hipbone, rubbing against his stomach and the faint trail of hair that disappeared below the waistband of his pants. You didn't dare go further, but you just wanted to feel his skin against yours.

“Did you hear me, Levi?” Your voice slightly raspy.

Slowly he turned toward you- standing up now. His face was neutral—barely. That ever-present edge of irritation lived in the curve of his brow, the tightness of his jaw. But his eyes… His eyes had changed.

They flicked over your face—your wound, your lips, your eyes. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in days, and then it hit you.

Cotton blanket? Sunlight? This wasn’t Levi's bed in the underground. You looked around—slowly.

There was a mattress beneath you. Structure. The curtains were thick, drawn tightly, but slivers of golden sunlight crept through the edges. The walls were smooth. A small wardrobe stood in the corner, and you could smell rose scented soap.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “Wait—this is... I’m home?”

Levi nodded in acknowledgment.

You pushed up fast—pain flared white-hot in your side and you winced, gasping—but his hand was already there. Holding your shoulder. Supporting you.

“Stop moving around.”

You looked at him, wide-eyed. “How?! How did you—”

He didn’t let go quite yet. Probably still in disbelief that you were awake. “I thought you were gonna die.”

His voice was raw, and quiet with a slight rasp himself. He hadn't spoken in a while from what you could tell.

“I wasn’t gonna let that happen down there. Not in a shithole like the underground. You don’t belong there.” He looked away. “You never did.”

Your heart twisted. The weight of those words. The truth behind them. The way his voice dropped just enough to hurt.

You reached for his hand and held it, softly. “How long has it been?”

He swallowed. “Almost three days.”

You looked down at your bandages. “Where are Furlan and Isabel?”

“They’re still underground.” His jaw flexed. “They couldn’t stomach seeing you die.”

You blinked. “And you?”

He exhaled slowly—like it hurt to release. “I couldn’t leave.”

His words were simple but devastating. You felt your throat close up.

You looked at his face—pale under the light, shadows under his eyes, a small cut across his cheek still healing. You saw the exhaustion in every line of him. The tension that hadn’t faded even now, even with you awake. He stayed the whole time.

You squeezed his hand. “Levi…”

He finally looked at you again, and his eyes were sharp. Dark. Terrified in a way he would never admit, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t need to, and somehow, that said everything.

“I can’t let you go back down there. That much is clear to me now.”

The room was heavy with the weight of everything that hadn’t been said. Levi shifted slightly, his fingers twitching in yours. Like he wanted to pull away, but also like he couldn’t.

“So this is it?” Your voice came out softer than you meant it to. “You brought me up here just to leave me?”

His brows pulled tight. “I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did.” You tried to sit up straighter, ignoring the pain that flared up from your side. He caught your elbow gently, holding you in place. You met his eyes. “Levi don’t push me away.”

He stiffened.

“Don’t… don’t tell me this is for the best. Don’t do that to me.”

You could feel the tears pressing up behind your eyes. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to keep your voice from breaking.

“Because if you do… I’ll never stop going back down there. I will always chase after you for the rest of my life. I won’t quit, and you can’t stop me.”

His jaw clenched. The silence between you was loud. A thousand walls thick. Then, finally—he looked at you. Really looked at you.

“You almost died.” He spoke low. “I sat here for nearly three days thinking this was it for you.”

His voice was rough. Tired. Strained like it had been filed down to nothing.

“You can’t get medicine down there. Not the kind you need. You can’t rest. You can’t heal. They’ll never stop coming after you. You’ll be fighting every single day just to keep breathing.”

You stared at him. “That’s why you trained me.”

He shook his head. “No. That’s not why I trained you. I trained you so you could survive when you had no choice.” His eyes didn’t leave yours. “That’s not what I want for you.”

He leaned in slightly. The intimacy of the moment hanging tightly around you both. It was as if every word he spoke to you carried its own importance. 

“I don’t want you to survive.” Levi continued. “I want you to live.”

It was a simple sentence, but it gutted you.

The tears slipped loose, silent. Your shoulders didn’t shake. Your mouth didn’t twist. Just a quiet stream down your cheeks.

You barely breathed. “How do you expect me to live… without you?”

He didn’t move—didn’t flinch, but he heard you.

“I’m in a cage, Levi.” Your voice broke. “This place—this district—it’s a box. I walk outside, and it’s nothing but scrutiny. Eyes that look at me like I’m diseased. If I died they would celebrate..”

You inhaled shakily. “You came through my tunnel. You saw my home. You saw my shop. I live well. I have what I need, sure, but the second I step outside that front door… it ends.”

Levi dropped his gaze. Like looking at you too long was making something inside him crack.

“You can’t go back down there.” He remained stern.

“Then stay up here with me.”

His hands stiffened. “No.”

Your heart dropped. You pulled back just enough to look at him. “Why not?”

“You know why.”

“I’ll get you papers.” You spoke quickly, desperate. “All of you. Proof of residence. I don’t have clearance to request them, but I’ll find a way, and in the meantime you guys can stay here at the shop.”

“Even if you do—if they catch you harboring three people from the underground—you’re the one who pays the price.”

Your lips trembled. “I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Levi’s eyes snapped back to yours. “Not whatever it takes.”

You nodded, wiping a tear from your cheek. “I will.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it.”

“I don’t want it like that.”

You stared at him, and he stared back. In that breathless space between you, something swelled. Tangled and unspoken.

He leaned in again—just slightly. He held your face, trembling ever so slightly, and you stayed in that moment like it was your last on Earth. 

You blinked slowly. “Will you lie down?”

His brow twitched. “Why?”

“Because I want you to feel a real bed.”

He didn’t answer, but his eyes stayed on you.

You softened your voice. “Not just sit on it. Lie on it. Stretch out.”

He looked at the mattress beneath him like it was a trap. Like it might swallow him whole.

“We can talk about everything later.” You added, quieter. “But not like this. You made the trip all the way to the surface for me. I want you to enjoy it.”

You began to shift.

Levi’s hand moved fast to your waist—not tight, not controlling. Just there.

“You can’t be moving around. I told you that.” He grumbled.

You smiled, even as your side gave a dull throb. “Don’t worry. It’s not my first scar.”

That hit him harder than you expected. He didn’t smile. Didn’t smirk. His mouth tightened like the words had punched something deep in his chest.

You reached out, touched his hand. “You need to get over it, Levi. My first scar came from you. I’m glad. Better from you than that worthless, scar-eyed bastard.”

You grunted slightly and eased yourself down, kneeling in front of him. The movement made your muscles strain, and you winced—but you didn’t stop.

He frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Sit.”

“What?”

“Sit on the bed properly.”

He didn’t move.

You reached up, grabbed his hand, and pulled—gently but with intent. His body resisted at first, tense and confused, but you didn’t let go. Finally, he relented and let you guide him down until he was seated on the mattress.

Then you reached for his boots.

“Hey—”

“Shhh.” You tugged and eased one off, then the other. You placed them neatly at the side of the bed, your body swaying slightly as you stood again.

You wobbled and he caught your arm. “Dammit—you don’t listen.”

“I’m fine.” You breathed, leaning briefly against him. “I’m fine.”

You turned to face him. His eyes followed every motion—every stagger, every breath.

You put your hands on his shoulders. “Lie down.”

He blinked at you like you’d asked him to fly. Must he always be this difficult?

“…Why?”

“Because you need sleep.”

“I don’t.”

“Everyone needs sleep.”

“I don’t.”

You didn’t argue. You just hobbled to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out a slim, blue-glass spray bottle. Lavender oil—soaked into distilled water. A ritual you rarely used. Only when you couldn’t stand the way your thoughts clawed at the inside of your skull.

You moved back toward him. Leaned down. One hand behind his head. The other pressed gently against his chest.

“Levi.” You spoke in a nurturing tone. “Lie down.”

He exhaled—tension bleeding out of him—and this time, he did. Slowly, and reluctantly—but he did. Before his head hit the pillow, you sprayed the mist. It fell around him like rain. Soft. Floral. Comforting.

“You’re spraying perfume on me?” He looked at you, unamused.

You pulled the blanket up over him—just like he’d done for you once.

“It’s not perfume. It’s a lavender mist to tell your brain it’s safe.” Your hand ran down the side of his neck, you whispered, “You’ve never had a good night’s sleep in your life. I want you to have one now. You came all this way.”

He didn’t deny it.

You stood, slowly and turned away to leave. Before you could get too far his hand caught your wrist. You looked back, confused.

“You can’t keep moving around.” He spoke low and final. “Not while your stitches are still raw.”

You tilted your head slightly. “You want me to stay in bed?”

“I don’t want you bleeding all over yourself trying to be strong..”

You leaned toward him. “You want me to get in bed, Levi?”

His eyes narrowed. “You need rest.”

You leaned a little more. “You want me to get in bed with you?”

The edge of your voice dipped somewhere playful, but also… serious? His eyes didn’t flinch, but his throat bobbed slightly. 

His hand moved from yours to your side. His palm pressed just beneath your wound, slipping under the hem of the shirt you wore. His fingers splayed over your ribs, rough skin brushing against your bare stomach. His touch was warm and intimate in a way that stole the air right out of your lungs.

You just stood there, leaning slightly over him, his hand curled against your skin as he assessed the wound.

His fingers traced the edges of your scar like he was mapping it—memorizing it. Not in pity. Not in guilt. Like he needed to know exactly where it was, how it felt. Like it meant something to him. His thumb skimmed over the healing edge, slow and cautious. Then he exhaled and moved, hand sliding to your waist.

He pulled you forward with a gentle, unspoken urgency until your knees hit the mattress. You climbed in, and he shifted back against the headboard, settling with you in his arms like it was second nature. Like he’d done this before—except it was uncharted territory for both of you.

“You don’t get to move around. Not after all the work I did to make sure you were okay.” His voice low. Final.

You didn’t argue. Your cheek found the rise of his chest, and your body curled up lightly over his. You tried to keep your weight off him, shifting just enough so your thighs weren't pressing into him fully.

He felt it. “Relax.”

“I don’t wanna crush you.”

“I carried your ass up here. Relax.”

You breathed a laugh, small and soft, and let yourself settle. You didn’t know what this was—what it meant—but right now, his heartbeat under your ear was steadier than your own.

“I remember something.” You spoke hesitantly.

His hand was resting against your back now. “What?”

You hesitated, tracing a line against the inside of his forearm with your fingertip.

“I don’t know... might’ve been a dream. When I was bleeding out.”

He didn’t speak. Just waited.

You swallowed. “I felt something. Just before everything went black.”

Still quiet.

“It’s kinda stupid, maybe.”

“Say it.”

You shifted just enough to tilt your head, so you could glance up at him. His face was shadowed in the low light. Watchful and calm.

“I thought... I thought I felt you kiss me.”

The room fell silent, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. You could feel the shift in his breathing however. The pause.

“Did you kiss me, Levi?”

He didn’t answer. You stared at him. Waited. Your eyes didn’t waver.

“Levi.”

“I don’t see why that matters.” He muttered, not meeting your gaze.

“It does.”

He finally looked at you. Not soft. Not gentle, but there was something burning behind his eyes—like you’d hit a nerve that had been buried for too long.

“Why?”

“Because if it was real... then I wasn’t dreaming about how much I wanted it.”

The words hung there. He stared at you. Every wall he’d ever built, trembling at the edges. He looked at you like he’d been trying not to for months.

You weren’t even thinking when you acted next. You leaned in a bit, but perhaps got cold feet at the last second… you hesitated, but he didn’t. Maybe things change during life and death situations.

His hand slid behind your neck, firm, before he pressed his lips to yours. There was no pretense, no caution.

Mouth to mouth. Breath to breath. Like there had never been another chance and never would be.

You gasped softly against him, but he didn’t pull away. His lips moved with yours—slow at first, exploring. Tasting. He was methodical, like he didn’t want to miss a single detail. 

It was a first kiss, but it didn’t feel like one. It felt like a dam breaking.

You pulled back slightly, eyes half-lidded, lips parted—just long enough to breathe, but you didn’t stop. Your mouth found his again, hungrier this time. Like you needed to make sure it wasn’t a fluke. 

The kiss stretched. Deepened. Like it was making up for everything unsaid. Everything unspoken.

You didn’t want to stop kissing him, but eventually, you peeled yourself away. Not because you wanted to, but because if you didn’t… you might lose yourself entirely.

You pulled your face to his chest, hiding there, lips resting against his bare skin. You whispered something too low to hear.

He looked down, voice rough. “What?”

You said it again, muffled by his chest. You felt him shift beneath you, confused.

“What?”

You sighed and tilted your head just slightly. “That was my first kiss.”

His hand stilled. Then slowly, gently, he brought his fingers under your chin and tilted your face up toward his. You blinked up at him, wide-eyed and uncertain.

You laughed nervously and ducked again into his chest before he could respond.

“I mean… it’s not that I didn’t want it. I did. I just—I never thought anyone would ever want to with me.” You swallowed. “Up here… I’m the ugliest woman on the surface. Diseased. I know I told you that before, but... kissing you made me feel… pretty?”

You felt him breathe against you, but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t good with words, not when it mattered, but his arms tightened around you, hands spanning your back like he could hold your pieces together.

“Actually, you make me feel beautiful.”

That made him still again. You could feel it—how that hit something in him. A silence that wasn’t empty, but full.

“No one up here has ever stuck their neck out for me” You continued. “But you make me feel like I’m more than the Greville surname. More than my skin. More than the curse they pinned on me. You make me feel like I’m worth something.”

He didn’t reply. Just listened as he held you-. Your fingers found the scars that lined his stomach, tracing them slowly.

“Thank you.” You whispered. “Not just for how you make me feel, but for helping me with all of this. For giving me closure.”

Calling it closure was a funny word you chose. What he gave you was an ending, but it certainly wasn’t closure. He killed every last link to the Kuremi underground that night. You couldn’t blame him. He was upset. 

Perhaps there was something else brewing in that head of yours. Maybe that is why you referred to it as closure. You’d not speak on it though. You’d keep it close to the vest for now.

You shifted, slowly untangling from him, and he protested immediately. “You can’t keep moving around and rupturing your stitches.”

You smiled and shook your head. “I’m going to make you some tea.”

He scowled, sitting up a little. “You can’t—”

“Let me do this, Levi.”

You slid your legs off the bed, stood up, and immediately doubled over, a sharp pain slicing through your side. Your knees buckled slightly.

Levi shot up.

“I’m fine.” You responded quickly. “I just… didn’t know I couldn’t take that deep of a breath.”

He reached for you, but you caught his hand before he could.

“Let me.” You spoke again, gently.

Maybe he didn’t want to fight you, or maybe he let you go because he knew he was right there to catch you if you fell. Either way, you were grateful.

You walked carefully into the kitchen, gripping the counter for balance. You worked slowly, pulling out a small tin of loose leaves and boiling water in your kettle. Every movement twinged—tight and sharp—but you didn’t stop. You needed this.

It was quiet, but your mind wasn’t. You kept replaying that moment. The kiss. The way he held you. The words you’d said. Proof of residence.

You stared blankly at the wall as the kettle heated. That one sentence kept echoing in your head.

If you could get that… if you could really get that… He could stay. They could all stay, and maybe they could finally stop feeling so restless. Stop going underground. Stop fighting. They’d have a home where they’d be free to relax.

Isabel could laugh in the sunlight. Furlan could breathe without paranoia. It could all be possible.

You loved Levi. You knew that now. It wasn’t a fleeting feeling or some desperate crush. He’d seen the depths of you, and he still stayed. He carried you up here himself. He kissed you.

He gave you so much, and you knew there was one way to truly pay him back… but what were you willing to give? What would it cost?

You were so out of it that you barely heard the whistle of the kettle until it screamed, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You turned it off. There was no more denying it. You had something to do today, and it was going to change everything.

You poured it carefully, steam curling against your face. The cup trembled slightly in your hand as you carried it down the hallway, the heat bleeding through the porcelain and into your palms.

When you reached your room again, your steps slowed. You peeked in and to your surprise… he was asleep.

Levi was buried beneath your blankets, face half-tucked into your pillow like he didn’t mean to fall asleep but his body had overruled him.

His brow was still faintly furrowed. Of course. Even unconscious, he refused to fully let go. His lips were parted slightly, and his breath came slow and even.

You set the tea down on the nightstand. Didn’t make a sound as you sat. Your body sank into the edge of the mattress with a soft creak, and you turned your gaze to him. Just watching. Studying.

The hard line of his jaw. The quiet furrow between his brows. The lashes you swore he had no right to own, and his lips—particularly his bottom lip, full and plush, a contrast to the rest of him. 

You smiled softly. Your fingers reached forward before you could stop them, brushing lightly across his hairline. He needed a haircut still. Guess he was waiting for you.

Strands of it were starting to fall across his forehead. You moved them gently aside, tucking them back behind his ear the way he’d never let anyone do if he were awake.

You’d lean forward and give a soft, tender kiss to his forehead. Your lips rested there, warm and still, for a moment. You felt the heat of his skin. The rhythm of his breath. The quiet of him.

“Sweet dreams.” You whispered, the words barely more than a hush against his skin. “I’ll be back, okay?”

Your hand lingered on his cheek. Fingers curled along his jaw, thumb brushing once beneath his lip.

He shifted slightly in his sleep—just a small twitch. Your breath hitched as your eyes gazed at his mouth again. You wanted to feel it against yours one more time, but you couldn’t risk waking him up. Not when you had errands to run. Or, an errand, rather.

You pulled away and stood with effort. You’d lift from the bed and walk quietly over to your doorway. You gave one last glance over your shoulder as you reached the door.

He looked ridiculous. Just small and pouty, and blanketed in clouds. A grumpy, street-hardened killer—but no less, a man. One you loved for certain.

You turned, walked into the hallway, and closed the door gently behind you. You didn’t know how much time you had before Levi woke up, but whatever time you did have, you were going to use it.

The light had shifted in your home—well, the tiny slivers from in between your thick curtains. You descended slowly, one hand gripping the banister, the other still pressed to your side. Your stitches tugged gently. It hurt, yes, but you were in a different headspace now.

Before you even reached the bottom step, you saw it on the ground. Like poetry, the small ray of light that snuck from behind your curtain had cast right onto it… A letter.

Crisp cream paper folded cleanly, a navy colored wax seal already half cracked. Left just inside your shop’s front door. It slipped in from the mail slot, and had been waiting there for days—maybe even a week.

“Erwin.” You whispered

You already knew it was from him—he had that same, consistent paperweight script. That efficient romance to the way he wrote. You hadn’t written him back yet. Not because you didn’t want to but because you didn’t know what to say.

Your feelings for Erwin were complicated. He made you feel seen and heard. When he was present it was like no one else even mattered. Like nothing could touch you. He was a comfort figure. But when he was gone it was for far too long, and the void was quite apparent. 

Perhaps that may be silly to say of someone that you didn’t have the luxury of seeing very often, but with Erwin you felt there was quality over quantity. Again—complicated.

You stepped off the last stair slowly, like the letter might vanish if you moved too fast. You picked it up with both hands, holding it like it was more than paper. The wax flaked off against your thumb.

He hadn’t waited for a reply. You could tell just by the ink—it hadn’t aged long. He must’ve written this barely a week after the last. He wanted his presence to be known. Last time you saw him you were crying in his arms. Certainly he must’ve worried about you and that’s why he didn’t wait for a response. Maybe he wasn’t even expecting one.

Your throat ached. You unfolded the page and began to read.

________________________________________________

Hello from Shiganshina.

I hope you’re well. I hope you’re warm. I hope you’re safe.

It’s a different world out here. Not like Mitras in any respect. The air smells different. The water is more copper than rain. There are more people than there is food. More movement than stillness, and somehow, despite it all, the people endure.

The market is loud. The bread is stale. The soup is always too thin. But they get by.

I must be straightforward with you. Usually when I’m out here—out on expeditions—I lose sense of everything else. That’s the point of it, but since I met you, I’ve found myself more grounded. More aware of the world around me.

There was a moment yesterday—I was on the edge of the southern ward—and I swore I saw someone who looked like you. The same eyes. The same bone structure. Just for a second.

It wasn’t you, but maybe that’s what happens when you begin to miss someone. You start adding them into places they’ve never been.

Sometimes I wonder how things would be if we lead different lives than we do currently. Perhaps we’d talk more.

Please be well.

Keep your hands warm. Don’t stay up too late sewing. Be sure to eat, and don’t stay indoors all day. I know showing face may hurt, but you deserve the sunshine.

Until next time,

—E.S.

You read the letter three times.

The corners of your lips curled with the softest smile. A bittersweet one. You pressed the edge of the paper to your mouth and kissed it, slow and silent. You’d neatly fold it back before standing again. You had to place this back in your workshop with the other.

You walk to the back of your workshop and behind your sewing desk. You slid the letter into the top drawer—above the last and between the swatches of silk and half-drawn blueprints for dresses you’d never show anyone.

You closed it gently. Let it sit there. With the rest of your unspoken things.

A long breath left your lungs, and then your eyes lifted. Across the room—bathed in faint light from your shop’s curtained grand windows stood the gown. The gown.

White silk. Poured like liquid money. Hand-beaded panels glittered like frost. The sleeves were long and sheer, with embroidery so fine it could never be replicated. The train swept the floor, layered in tulle..

It was the gaudiest thing you’d ever made, and it was perfect.

The neckline was high- turtleneck. The corset was stitched so tight it could’ve sculpted bone. At the waist, it flared—not in a subtle ripple but in a sweep of dramatic splendor. Fit for no one but you. Fit for a day like today.

You stepped closer, your hand reaching out, brushing the fabric. Maybe Erwin was right. Maybe in another world, things would be different—but this world? This world was yours now, and today, you would wear the dress. Beauty was pain, and you were going to show that.

The white shirt came off slowly—the one Levi dressed you in. You peeled the buttons open one by one, the thin cotton grazing your wound with every breath. It was small. Worn soft at the sleeves. Too small to cover anything, really.

You paused in front of the mirror that sat across from your desk, shirt hanging open. Your body told the story as you peeled away the gauze.

Across your side, slashing high along your abdomen, was the wound. The skin was discolored—bruised around the stitches, red at the edges. It hadn't bled seriously in hours, but you could feel it. The raw pull with every inhale. The dull ache blooming if you moved too quickly. 

You’d have to redo Isabel’s work eventually—her stitches, though loving, weren’t holding as tight as they should be, but she'd tried. Between the three of them, she still had the best hand which is probably why Levi let her do it before bringing you up here.

You remembered her smile. The way her fingers fumbled with the needle when you taught her. How her brows furrowed in concentration as you lay across that creaky bed, coaching her between clenched teeth.

Levi kept the wound clean and sterile. Wrapping it in silence every few hours, not trusting anyone else’s hands on your skin.

You ghosted your hand across it one more time, fingers just skimming the edge. Then you turned and walked to the mannequin where the gown waited.

You dressed slowly. First, the corset—already stitched into the gown. You laced it up yourself, teeth gritting as your ribs resisted, but the pain was grounding. You wanted to feel it. Wanted it to keep you present.

Then the hand beaded sleeves. You slid your arms through, threading them into a silk cage of your own making.

Last—the skirt. The train cascaded around your feet, pooling behind you in a long tide of white. Stars embroidered along the hem winked under the light, catching reflections like snow.

You moved to your vanity to complete the look.

Hair: brushed, pinned, slicked behind your ears into perfect waves.

Makeup: sharp liner, soft glow.

Perfume: rose, very simple.

Lips: flushed, but not too deep. Never too deep.

When you stepped back from the mirror, you didn’t look like a woman who had nearly died.

The heels clicked against your floorboards with every step. Bone-white. Narrow-toed. Cruel on cobblestones. Today, it didn’t matter.

At the front of the shop is where you headed. You opened the door, and sure enough standing there was an MP. Like nothing had ever changed.

Moritz—your assigned escort—stood where he always did. Right in front of your shop door and slightly to the left. He straightened sharply when he saw you. The way his eyes widened said everything.

It wasn’t the dress. It wasn’t the hair or the heels. It was you.

Gone for days. Quiet. No noise from the shop. He’d checked, probably. Maybe more than once. And yet—here you were, standing before him like a vision in white, wound hidden behind jewels and silk.

He cleared his throat. “My lady.”

You smiled softly. Not out of politeness—but because he looked scared.

“Moritz.” You spoke calmly—almost, warm.

He recovered quickly. Years as an MP did that. “Where to?”

You looked up. The sky was clear. Birds circling high above the rooftops, gliding on the warmth of the morning.

You inhaled, slow. “I think I’ll see Father today.”

His brow lifted faintly. “Shall I fetch a carriage?”

You shook your head, already stepping forward, heels tapping across the stone path.

“No.” You shook your head. “It’s a lovely day for a walk.”

He didn’t argue. He followed in silence, and you walked—with the weight of truth stitched into your side, and the two most powerful men you knew tugging at your heart in opposite directions.

The sharp whistle cut through the street.

Moritz lifted two fingers to his mouth, a sound practiced, crisp. The call alerting to your other guard that you were on the move. From the far end of the boulevard, another figure—uniformed, bored—perked up and began walking toward you at a faster pace, hand already resting at his hip.

Your shadow grew longer on the sunlit stone. The city didn’t expect you to walk. Certainly not dressed up in this manner. You were known for your extravagant dresses, but none like this. 

Your heels clicked against the cobblestones like a wardrum. The air was sweet with late-spring sun. Window shutters creaked open. Glances peeked out from behind silk curtains. A child tugged on her mother’s sleeve, pointing at you with wide eyes.

Voices followed you in waves. Whispers at first, but of course—it always got louder.

“She’s back from hiding?”

“I’d never show my face again if I were her.”

“I heard she was ill.”

“No, she’s mad. Didn’t you hear what happened at the gala?”

“She should have stayed gone—”

“She doesn’t look sick—well, more than usual.”

“She looks…”

You kept your head high.

The train of your gown followed like a comet’s tail, sweeping behind you with every step. You had tailored it to be heavy—so that it demanded space, that every inch of its length meant something.

The beading at your chest caught the sunlight like shards of a broken crown… and then—like some cruel joke…

“Oh—my lady!” Moritz’s voice cracked beside you. You stopped, just briefly, to glance over.

His face had gone pale.

“My lady, you’re bleeding.”

Your eyes dropped, and there it was. Deep red—a stain like a slow-blooming rose had been pressed into the silk at your waist. It spread down into the beading—Isabel’s stitching—thickening with every step. The wound had split open. You must’ve torn it from moving around .

The white fabric made everything unforgivingly clear. 

Moritz stepped forward, his hand out as if to steady you. “I’ll fetch a carriage. I’ll get a medic to your shop right away—”

You inhaled, long and steady. Not shaky. Then you turned to him, your eyes hard as onyx.

“I’ve been bleeding for years, Moritz.” The words dropped like stones in a pond. “You’re only noticing it now because you can’t ignore it.”

You stepped forward again. “I’m fine.”

Even if the pain clawed at your side. Even if your ribs throbbed. Even if every step you took pulled another drop from the wound that refused to close. You let them see it. Every last one of them.

The pain was mounting. Every step pulled at the stitches Isabel had tried so hard to make tight. You could feel it now—every thread loosening. Every nerve fraying.

The blood ran slow at first, then faster. It slid down your thigh, warm and steady. Trickled along your calf, and found the inside of your ankle. Then finally—your foot.

Your heel filled with a quiet squish, and still, you walked.

You left bloody footprints on the pristine walks of Mitras. Delicate shapes smeared with quiet agony. The kind of marks that someone would try to wash away the moment you passed, but would always see after.

You caught sight of your reflection in a shop window. It was obscene. The dress—perfect, fitted, radiant—now painted with pain. You looked like the ghost of someone rich and vengeful. A woman scorned by her own legacy. Perhaps that is what you were.

Let them whisper. Let them marvel at how well you carried the weight of it all. Let them see you bleed.

Your escorts hovered, clearly unsure whether to carry you or get help. You gave them nothing. Not another word. Not a nod. 

You walked beyond your own pain tolerance, and then there it was. The Greville estate. Larger than memory. Larger than life.

The structure stood tall. Untouched by time. The estate didn’t just represent wealth. It represented lineage.

The place you were taught to walk straight. Speak softly. Smile small. The place where you were told to dream as far as the Mitras walls stretched. The place you were told your skin was a defect and your voice a danger. Even if your father never shamed you for it, he still fanned the flames of the lie.

It had been seven months since you’d seen it last. Even when you walked around town, you intentionally avoided the area—making your cage even smaller.

Maybe you were scared to see the man who called you his favorite while hiding your birthright. The man who gave you a cage with velvet curtains and called it safety.

You don’t hesitate to walk inside, you just do. Your escorts are worried, but they wait by the door as per usual. 

The scent hits you first—it smells sterile, but also like aged wood and lemongrass. The kind of scent that only comes from old wealth, from walls that have held generations of secrets. The Greville estate hasn't changed in the seven months you’ve been gone. Not a tile out of place. Not a portrait shifted, but the silence that settles over you as you step through the grand double doors is different—heavier.

Your heel clicks against the marble, and for a moment, it’s just you and the sound of your slow, aching limp. But of course, it doesn’t last long.

“Well, well.” A voice sounds. Too sharp to be welcoming. Too smug to be casual. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

You freeze in the entrance hall, blinking against the brightness of the stained glass that pours colored light across the floor. You know that voice a bit too well, and frankly, you hadn’t missed it… Cassius.

You turn your head slowly, and there he is. Leaning against the arched doorway like he’s the crown prince of this rotting palace. His chestnut hair is combed back without a single strand out of place. Beside him, is her—the woman from the gala. The one who didn’t bat an eye when he said horrific things about.

Her left hand rested delicately on his arm, and your eyes fell to the jewel glinting on her finger. Engaged.

Your stomach twists from the sheer audacity of his life moving forward so cleanly while yours bleeds behind you.

Cassius stares, and you know he’s shocked. He hadn’t seen you since the gala. Since the screaming. Since the part of you that was done with his shit called him every foul thing he was. 

His eyes size you up with what seems to be irritation and curiosity. “This is new, even for you.”

You don’t reply. Your silence infuriates him and you know it. He pushes off the wall, arms folding, his tone turning venomous.

“What is this? Some performance art? A walk of shame with blood as a prop?” He scoffs. “You always needed attention, but I didn’t think you’d go this far.”

Still, you say nothing. You take a slow, limping step forward, your heel sliding slightly in your own blood. The marble glistens red behind you.

Cassius watches the way your gown clings to your side, the dark stain growing like rot on the silk. For a moment, something flickers behind his eyes—something like doubt, but he buries it.

“You know.” He continues, voice louder and harsher. “It doesn’t matter how many jewels you sew onto your little costumes. It doesn't matter how many nobles pretend to like your handwork. You’ll never be worth the fabric you stitch yourself into.”

That one hits deeper than it should. But still… you let it pass because responding would mean acknowledging him. You keep walking. You aren’t here for Cassius Greville.

Behind you, the woman—his fiancé—gasps and clutches his arm tighter. You hear her whisper, “I think she’s really bleeding—she needs a doctor.”

Cassius doesn’t move.

Your hand reaches out, trailing along the edge of the polished banister. The hallway ahead stretches like a memory—a tunnel of old paintings. The light dims as you enter it, leaving them behind, your footprints staining the ivory floor. One after another. 

Your father’s wing is just ahead. You clench your jaw as another pulse of pain flares up your side, your wound hot and swollen beneath the corset. You can feel the thread pulling. You don’t care. Maybe you want it to.

As you reach the familiar archway to his room, the door swings open—and you stop.

There she is, Tinsley. Pale, thin, and her hair is frizzed at the ends. Her makeup smudged like she did just enough to feel decent leaving the house.. The golden girl of the Greville family, the one who always sparkled in any situation… she looked like a shell of herself.

Her blue eyes meet yours—and she screams. “Oh my God!” She races toward you, her heels clicking against the tile. “Someone please! Help!”

Footsteps rush in. Servants. Staff. Housemaids with white aprons and open mouths, frozen in horror at the sight of you. You keep moving even still.

“Tinsley.” You greet her—your voice strained, but firm.

“What happened to you?!”

“I need to talk to father.” You don’t acknowledge her question. 

“You need to lie down! You need stitches, you need medicine, you need—!” Her voice shatters. “Please, please, you’re not well—just stop moving—”

You push past her and slam the door to your father’s room open as you stagger inside.

There he is. Matthias Greville. Once the great inventor. The brilliant mind. The man who built countless devices still used to this day. The man who built your first sewing machine when you were four years old. The man who praised your handwork when the other noble children wouldn’t even look at you.

He was barely a shadow beneath the pale canopy of his bed.

The curtains are drawn open, the sunlight falling gently across his sunken features. His face is gaunt. His beard untrimmed. His hands—once so nimble—twitch with the tremor of age or illness or guilt.

Surrounding him are his inventions. His life’s work. Spools of blueprints. Tiny working prototypes of mechanical wonders. One in particular sits beside his bed: sleek, brutal, elegant in its cruelty.

You recognize it. He called it the Anti-Personnel ODM Gear. His unfinished masterpiece. You never understood why he began designing it in the first place.

Your knees nearly buckle at the realization of his state. Your breath hitches. The blood’s been pooling around your foot, soaking the edge of your train. You want to say something, but your vision blurs.

That’s when his eyes open. They find you—immediately. Like a compass snapping north. Instantly they fill with tears. Your father, the man of iron and formulas, begins to cry.

The tears fall silently, but his chest heaves. You stare at him through blurred vision. This was the man who told you your curls were gorgeous when others recoiled. He was also the man who kidnapped your mother from her home, tore her from the man she loved, and buried her name in disgrace.

You want to scream. You want to rage, but the sorrow cracks through first. The pain shortly follows. A dull roar floods your ears. The ground tilts and you sway.

As your knees finally give, arms catch you—not Tinsley’s. She’s crying somewhere behind you, shouting your name. It’s not Cassius either. He’d not dare touch you.

You hear a man's voice near your ear. “Easy there.”

You try to lift your head, but blackness creeps in. You try to speak, but your lips won’t part. You wanted answers, but all you get is unconsciousness.

Greville Estate : 3:13pm : Mitras

The scent of medicinal balm and clean linen clings to the air as your eyes flutter open, heavy-lidded, thick with the weight of exhaustion. 

The light streaming through the high arched window is warm—midday, maybe. The old, familiar beams of sunlight spill across the tapestry rug like golden ribbons. You know this ceiling. Know the floral crown molding. The crack in the corner. You’re in your childhood bedroom.

Your wound is throbbing. You shift and a small, involuntary sound escapes your throat. The soft cotton of the nightgown now placed on your body scratches against the fresh gauze binding your ribs. It’s not the gown you arrived in. The white beaded silk is sitting at your bedside in a chair. Almost like someone knew you’d be upset if it were anywhere else… Tinsley.

“You’re awake.” A voice speaks to you.

You turn your head—slow, careful—and see him.

A man with shoulder-length brown hair, neatly parted. He wears round glasses and a gentle, professional expression, but something in his eyes is… tired. Like he’s seen too much and still carries it with him.

“I’m Dr. Grisha Yeager.” He nods. “Your sister wrote to me months ago regarding your father’s condition.”

You blink, still groggy. Tinsley appears beside him in an instant.

“Take it easy.” She speaks, voice cracked and frantic. “You’ve been unconscious since this morning—you lost so much blood, I thought—” Her eyes brim. “I thought you were going to die.”

You sit up slowly, ignoring the alarm in her face. “I need to speak to the old bastard.”

Dr. Yeager lifts a hand, not to stop you, but in mild protest. “Your wound is quite deep.”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed. “I’m aware.”

He doesn’t block your path, but his voice follows you as you brace your weight on the mattress and push yourself upright.

“I don’t know how you managed to walk all the way here like that. You shouldn’t have been able to. The trauma alone…”

You grab your dress formally seated beside you and make it to the doorframe before he adds, “You’ve done an immaculate job keeping the wound clean. You were careful, which is probably the only reason you’re still alive.”

Only it wasn’t you. It was Levi.

Your free hand clutches the wood as a throb radiates through your side. “So what are you telling me, Dr. Yaeger?”

Grisha exhales. “It’s probably best I say this with your family present.”

Your body stiffens. You turn slowly, and for the first time, you notice the others.

Cassius sits in the corner, half in shadow, his fiancée curled up against his side like a terrified animal. His expression is unreadable—cold, but rigid. His arms folded, jaw clenched.

Tinsley clasps her hands before her as if bracing herself. 

Dr. Yeager looks to you all before speaking. He’s clinical—straight to the point. “You should all know Matthias Greville will pass away within a matter of weeks.”

Tinsley gasps. “For certain?”

Cassius doesn’t speak, but his hands curl into fists as it drops at his sides. The fiancée hides her face in his chest like she’s devastated about a man she doesn’t even know.

Grisha nods solemnly. “Yes. For certain. The medicine I brought with me will ease his pain, but his condition is irreversible. His organs are failing. His body’s shutting down.”

You don’t move. You barely breathe. You’re not surprised, but it doesn’t make it easier to hear.

You look back at him, voice flat. “So what does that have to do with me?”

He looks at you directly now, more sternly. “In order for you to survive your injury, you’d need to be sewn up properly with internal stitching, full medicinal treatment, and 24 hour watch.”

You nod once. “And if I don’t?”

He doesn’t blink. “Then the only thing I can offer you is the same medication your father is on. Something to ease the pain. You won’t survive the month.”

Tinsley breaks. “No!” She chokes out, stumbling toward Grisha. “Please, Doctor—please! There must be something you can do—something! I can’t—I can’t lose my father and my sister! I can’t do it! Help her! Please stay here and heal her! I’ll do anything!”

Grisha’s expression softens, but not with sympathy—with realism. “The supplies I’d need to treat her are in Shiganshina.”

You laugh, bitter. In Shiganshina? What a cruel joke. “Did you not hear, Doctor Yeager? I’m diseased. I’m forbidden from leaving Mitras.”

He lifts a brow. “Not if you have medical clearance.”

You blink. “What?”

He steps forward, voice calm. “If this is deemed a medical emergency, and it is, you’d be permitted to leave the capital under my full supervision. You’d travel with me. I’d treat you in Shiganshina, and once recovered, you’d be returned.”

You stare. No, you mustn’t be hearing this right. “I have a rare condition if you can’t tell. I have been forbidden from leaving Mitras since birth. This was a decree from the Royal Government.”

He continues, carefully. “It would look… unfavorable to the Royal Government if the daughter of one of Mitras’s wealthiest died of a treatable wound because she was denied clearance to travel. Very unfavorable.”

Your heart is pounding. You close your eyes and suddenly—you see it. The horizon beyond the Mitras Walls. The stories Erwin had told you. The shop where he bought your necklace. The dusty streets of Shiganshina. The food, the people, the towns, the colors, the noise, the world.

The life you were never allowed to have. The life they said you didn’t deserve. It was now within reach.

But then—you thought of them. Furlan’s sweet smile. Isabel’s loud, sarcastic laugh. Levi, triple checking your cleaning though he knows is done to his standards.

You left your home today to demand your father grant three residency papers. You know the process. It’s long. Bureaucratic. Slow-moving through the royal channels.

But if your father dies before they’re approved… The chance dies too. They’ll be trapped forever. The final signature would have to be his own, stating that this was his request. One done in person. One that couldn’t be forged.

The silence stretches. All eyes are on you. You don’t offer them your thoughts. You don’t look at Cassius, or his simpering fiancée. You don’t speak to Tinsley, still sobbing quietly in the corner.

Tears stream down your face, hot and endless. You inhale, “I have to speak with father.”

Your voice is barely more than a whisper, but it slices through the air like glass. You turn and limp out of the room—your dress dragging in your arms.

No one tries to stop you. Perhaps they are too stunned by your response. 

Maybe it’s some adrenaline from making your decision, but your pace picks up so fast as you make your way to your father’s room. Almost like you don’t want to be stopped. You need to get this off your chest.

In no time flat you reach his room. The door creaks open and the scent of antiseptic his you. The room is dim from the sheer drawn curtains and the afternoon light. 

Your father lies there in his grand canopy bed like a decaying monument, eyes barely open, mouth parted slightly as if he’s just waiting to die.

You don’t stop at the threshold. You storm in, limping, ragged, bleeding still beneath the clean nightgown that clings to your frame.

“You son of a bitch!” You snarl, voice cracking like thunder across the room. “I know what you did! Don’t fucking play dumb!”

His breath hitches. His frail form stiffens against the pillows. His eyes, bleary with illness, snap toward you and widen.

“My little angel—”

“Don’t!” You choke. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

You’re crying now, hot and furious. You take another step, dragging your body forward, ignoring the searing pain in your side. He watches you, lips trembling.

“You took her!” You scream. “You took Abeni!”

The name alone makes him convulse. His heart rate speeds up, and his fingers twitch helplessly at his side.

“You took her from him!” Your voice stays sharp. “Ripped her from her love! Do you even know his name? Did you ever care to ask?”

He doesn’t answer. He can’t.

You sob, the rage and the grief tearing out of you in uneven bursts. “You caged her! Like a thing! You made her last moments hell—sick, afraid, ripped from everything she loved, and now I’m gonna do the same to you!”

You hike up your nightgown, exposing the thick, brutal wound wrapped tight in fresh gauze, already staining through with red. The bruising fans out like ink in water, grotesque and vivid.

“Doctor Yeager says I’ve got about as much time left as you do.”

Matthias gasps, his fingers clawing at the blanket. The tears roll freely now. The man who once towered over nobles in court, who once built machines that defied physics, now lies like a crumpled leaf—fragile, and pathetic.

“You always said I was your favorite, remember? The child who could do no wrong. The one you gave everything to. The one you loved out of obsession.” You’re right at his bedside now. Inches away as you lean over him. “Then let me make this simple.”

You back off for just a moment to grab the heavy armchair beside the bed, dragging it loudly across the floor. You plant it right at his side.

“I will sit in this chair.” You nod as you speak. “I will sit in this chair and I will refuse food. I will refuse water. I will refuse the medicine Dr. Yaeger offered me, and I will rot away right here in front of you.”

He sobs, shaking his head.

“I will make you watch, father. I will die before you do—I’ll ensure it. Because I know it’ll hurt you the most. I’ll force you to see me waste away.”

You kneel over him once more, firmly grabbing his trembling hand in yours.. “I’ll torture you worse than you ever did Abeni.”

He is a wreck. His body shudders with the force of his sobs. He gasps for breath, snot running, tears soaking his cheeks. He may die of a broken heart right here in this moment, and you don’t let up.

“There’s a way.” You whisper. “A way to stop this.”

He blinks at you, dazed.

“Proof of residence.” You hiss. “Three separate documents.” You lift your chin. “And unquestionable loyalty.”

His lips move but barely form sound. “It’s not… that easy… the… the process…”

You slam your palm on the bedside table, making him jump. “Make it easy! I don’t want excuses, I want obedience.” You lean in, your mouth close to his ear. “Unquestionable loyalty. That’s what I demand. That means no questions. No delays. No cowardice.”

You stand again, trembling, breath heaving. Never in your life had you spoken to your father this way. Not even once. The thought had never crossed your mind. You weren’t going to take it easy on him because he was dying. He doesn’t get to weasel out of this!

“You will get those forms expedited.” You back off. “I expect to hear good news come sunrise.”

You don’t wait for an answer. You turn, blood still trailing behind you, and walk out of the room with your spine straight—your fists clenched.

Tinsley stood shocked at the door frame. Her mouth agape, and her heart broken. Tears streaming quietly down her cheeks.

“B-but Dr. Yaeger said-”

“I don’t wanna hear it Tinsley!” You held up a stern hand, limping away with your bloodied dress still in hand. 

You were going to die no matter what. Either from this injury, or of a broken heart. You figured it was best to put yourself to use before you went. Spend your final days with Levi and prepare him for surface life. He deserved that. He deserved everything.

[softcursechoso]

Somewhere, We Do: Ch. 9

JJK x Reader Nanami x Reader

Masterlist

MDNI! // 18+ // NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS!

Ch. 9 Warnings: None! Perhaps paradise ain't all it's cracked up to be, and sometimes temptation is right around the corner...

Words: 13.5k+ (13k??? I need to be stopped like these chapter lengths are fr outta control)

VERY LOYAL WOMAN

Office : 7:39pm : Shinjuku

The HR office was dead quiet except for the low hum of fluorescent lights of course. The cubicles were dark, abandoned since six. 

You and Kaya were two of the last souls lingering in the gray-walled graveyard of corporate Tokyo. The building might as well have been a tomb—stale coffee, dead plants, and the ghost of unpaid overtime hanging in the air.

Kaya had kicked off her heels an hour ago. She was lounging in her chair, one leg slung over the armrest, twirling a pen like it was a baton. You were half-sunken into your desk chair, sipping lukewarm matcha from a chipped mug that said World’s Okayest Employee.

“So…” Kaya spoke, dragging out the word like a threat. “Let’s talk about the reunion.”

You exhaled. “Kaya... we’ve talked about the reunion.”

“No, you dodge it, I lure it back. That’s push and pull… so anyway, you’re not going?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said maybe.” she snapped, mock-offended. “And you know what that sounds like to me? Fear of commitment.”

You groaned. “Oh my God.”

“No, listen to me. This is important. If you don’t go, I’m not going.”

You gave her a flat look. “You are going.”

She held her chest like you’d accused her of murder. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t make me suffer. You know I need this. I already bought three outfits, some Jimmy Choo’s and a Chanel bikini.”

“Jimmy Choo’s, Kaya?” You laughed. “A Chanel bikini? You’re out of control.”

She leaned forward. “You think I bought all of that to impress people here?”

“I never said I wasn’t going! I just said maybe. It’s not a no!”

“Yeah, and it’s also not a yes. We’re two weeks into March, babe. The reunion is coming up fast.”

You slouched further into your chair. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea. Everything’s okay right now. Kento and I are... steady. I’m not trying to throw a cursed wrench into my own life.”

Kaya raised an eyebrow. “You think this reunion’s gonna ruin your relationship? Right, let’s talk about the real end. Kanzaki Reika, new girl in finance.”

You blinked. “What new girl in finance?”

Kaya’s eyes glimmered like she was about to serve a five-course meal of gossip. “Brunette. From Osaka. I heard Suzuki from IT talking about her. Said she had a reputation back at her old office. Nanami didn’t tell you about her? She been here like a month.”

A month was a long time not to mention a new coworker. As good as you said your relationship was with Nanami, truthfully things had been getting very busy these days and it was hard to make time. 

The two of you didn’t have coordinating days off lately, but you had been spending most nights at his place, and staying late with him here at the office when you didn’t have to work the next morning. 

You narrowed your eyes. “She has a reputation like...?”

“She was known for hooking up with married men in her department,” Kaya said matter-of-factly, swirling her pen again. “Like, actively pursued the unavailable ones.”

You laughed. “So... homewrecker-core?”

“You stupid for that.” She giggled. “Suzuki said her type is married, engaged, or in a stable relationship.”

You scoffed. “Are you bringing this up because you think I need to worry about Kento?”

Kaya shrugged with suspicious nonchalance. “I’m just saying... she’s up there with him pretty late these days.”

Okay, that’s… new information…

You gave her a look. “He’s got the angriest aura in this whole building. He doesn’t even look away from his screen. I doubt he’s noticing some finance skank.”

Kaya raised her eyebrows. “Didn’t say he noticed her. Just said you should.”

“Oh my God, Kaya.”

“I’m just saying.” She held up her hands. “Men can’t detect a thirst trap until they’re already in it. That’s science.”

You huffed a laugh. “You’re being ridiculous.”

She grinned. “Maybe, but if she ends up trying something just know I’m not above getting fired for jumping a bitch.”

“Jumping?! Kaya!”

She shrugged innocently as if she didn’t say something insane.

You grab the little insulated bag from under your desk, zip it shut, and sling it over your shoulder. 

It’s quitting time.

Kaya watches you with a mock scowl, arms folded as she wonders how this shit will pan out.

“Well, I’m gonna head up and give Kento his dinner.” You smile, already buttoning up your coat.

Kaya groans. “Ugh, you staying late with him to spend time is so cute. It makes me physically ill.”

You grin. “If I didn’t cook for him, he’d literally be eating out every night. Like, five nights in a row of konbini sushi and instant noodles. I’m not about to let my man waste away.”

“He’s lucky.” She mutters, making a dramatic gagging noise.

You nudge her arm on your way out. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m leaving now before you infect me with your gross domestic joy.”

At your desk, you fire off one last email. Something about how maybe we shouldn’t use the photocopier as our personal scrapbooking tool, followed by a passive-aggressive sign-off that made you snort.

You fish out the slim, sleek card key Nanami gave you months ago. Black with a chrome trim. Your access to the 60th floor—his floor. You remember how warm your chest felt when he handed it to you. His fingers had lingered, his voice low when he said, for after hours. In case you want to come up.

You’d wanted to come up every day since. Of course you couldn’t because you work too, but again, you made time where you could.

You blow a kiss toward Kaya as you step out the office. “Be good.”

“I’m a menace! Don’t tame me!” She calls after you.

The walk through the main office is dim and quiet. The low light of the emergency signs paints everything in neon green. The building, so full of life during the day, is eerie now. Echoes of your footsteps follow you to the elevator.

You tap the key card and wait. The ding of the doors is soft.

You’re tired. The week’s been long, but just the thought of leaning against Nanami’s shoulder while he wraps up work, feeding him bites of karaage from your bento box, hearing that deep little hum he makes when he eats something he likes—that pulls a soft smile from your lips.

The elevator doors slide open and the 60th floor greets you with the glow of warm office lamps. Nanami’s desk is the only one lit. You see him—tired but composed, and sleeves rolled up to the forearm. And beside him… A woman.

Not too close. Nothing inappropriate. Just the casual distance of two people working late together. Her hair’s pinned up neatly, blouse crisp, a faint shimmer to her makeup that catches in the soft light. She’s laughing gently at something he’s saying. A little tilt of her head. Confident. Effortless.

You blink. You already know. This must be her. Still, you smile. You step forward and lift the bag slightly.

Nanami looks up. You watch the stress in his shoulders melt away the moment he sees you. 

“Hey, my love.” He pulls his chair back, rises halfway, and the woman beside him stands up to bow.

She speaks before you can. “I’m Kanzaki Reika. Finance, of course.” Her voice is clear, friendly. Her bow polite, practiced.

You return it. “Nice to meet you. I’m from HR—10th floor.”

Nanami is already pulling out the chair beside him. He kisses your temple as you sit, murmuring, “We’re almost done here.”

“No rush.” You unpack the bag, the scent of your cooking drawing a small breath from him.

For a while, the three of you chat. It’s mostly shop talk. Light things. Budget misfires, IT snafus. You let yourself listen more than speak… and the longer you do, the more conflicted you feel, because she’s... nice. Warm, even.

Friendly in that unbothered, slightly formal way. She’s smart. Carries herself like she has something to prove, but isn’t in a rush to do it. The little moments where you feared some siren in heels might be slinking around Nanami’s desk—none of that is here, and you hate that.

You hate that you had a picture of her in your head, some cautionary tale from Kaya, and now here she is. Professional. Sharp. Maybe even a little funny.

Still, something in your stomach knots, because even if she isn’t crossing any lines, she’s in the room, and you’re smart enough to know that proximity is a kind of intimacy… and she gets to be close when you aren’t.

Makes you think back to what Kaya said about her being up here late with him most nights. Nights where you pack it in early because you have work the next day. Nights where he urges you to go home instead of waiting on him because he won’t be able to give you the attention you deserve… makes a girl wonder…

Still, you smile. Still, you nod. You put on this front as if you had any idea about what the hell they were talking about.

Nanami’s voice had that calm, gravel-lined resonance to it when he talked about the market—soothing enough to lull you, incomprehensible enough to scramble your brain. You listened anyway, chin resting on your palm, watching the way his eyes tracked the screen, the way he tapped his pen against the side of his keyboard with practiced focus.

“…but if the Nikkei doesn’t rebound by the end of Q2, we’ll need to reallocate—”

“Translation-” You muttered with a grin, nudging him with your elbow, “Should I sell my Animal Crossing turnips or not?”

Nanami glanced at you and chuckled. Then, in that way that always made your chest go warm, he reached under the desk, pulled your chair just a little closer to his, and let his hand settle on your thigh.

“Sorry this is taking so long,” his voice low, thumb gently stroking circles into the fabric of your skirt. “I’ll wrap this up soon. I know you had a long day.”

You leaned in with a playful sigh. “Don’t worry about me Honeybee. I’ve got the day off tomorrow, remember?”

Reika laughed gently across the desk. “I miss having days off.”

You turned toward her, teasing, “Oh no, don’t tell me they’re working you like that already. How long have you been here again?”

Reika tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear, tone warm and modest. “My transfer started about two months ago, but I’ve officially been at this branch for a little over a month. Everyone’s been so welcoming.”

You nodded politely. “That’s good to hear. We’re all so siloed by department, you barely get to meet anyone unless you make the effort.”

She agreed quickly. “Exactly! I’ve only bumped into people in elevators or shared breakrooms. But I’ve heard this office hosts a lot of events—holiday parties, appreciation days, that kind of thing.”

You leaned back slightly, starting to unpack the food you’d brought. “I’ve only been here a few months myself. But yeah, the Christmas party was nice. They gave away some great prizes.”

Nanami snorted, clearly remembering something. “I recall winning a stress ball that night.”

“I know you’re being funny, but you love that stress ball.”

The three of you laughed lightly. You unboxed the bento, lifting the lid and wafting the steam toward Nanami dramatically. “Behold. Vegetables. Meat. Actual sustenance. Otherwise, he’ll just keep eating convenience store ramen and mystery sandwiches.”

Nanami muttered under his breath, “They’re not a mystery.” Regardless, he dug into the food gratefully.

Reika smiled again. “There’s so much good food around here though. I don’t understand why you’d settle for mystery sandwiches. I don’t even mean just restaurants—some of the hidden spots are the best.”

Your eyes stayed on your chopsticks, but your ears tilted her way.

“Like, there’s this little takoyaki stand near the Oshii corner store. A bit tucked away, but Nanami-san brought some back to the office a few days ago. It was incredible. Changed my opinion on octopus completely.”

Your hand stilled slightly.

Wait, she didn’t mean…

She paused as if trying to remember the name, then snapped her fingers. “Marumaru, right? That was it.”

You smiled, lips still curled politely, but your chest buzzed.

You knew that name. You loved that name. That was your spot. No website, no real signage, just the smell of hot batter and bonito flakes. And Aoki-san, your favorite owner.

You’d gone there first with Kaya months ago, and over time it became a sort of ritual. You didn’t tell many people about this spot because it was so special to you. Maybe that was bad for business. Maybe that was gatekeeping, but you thought of it as one of those places you’d only take someone you wanted to impress.

You blinked once. Said nothing. It wasn’t jealousy. Not really. It was just... you’d given that place to Nanami the way you gave him your favorite book, your worst memories, your mother’s soup recipe. You gave it because it was something you cherished… and he gave it to someone else.

You didn’t even look at him. You just smiled and popped a piece of grilled eggplant into your mouth. Maybe you were wrong for this feeling. You weren’t upset. You weren’t even mad. Just a little disappointed.

“That’s a great spot.” You smiled. “You’ve got good taste.”

Nanami, still eating, nodded slightly. “They’ve improved their batter recently.”

Casual. Nonchalant. Normal… Totally normal.

Reika went on about how she never would’ve gone down that alley if not for him. You smiled and nodded, and it was all perfectly polite. There wasn’t even a shift in tone. But somewhere in your chest, a tiny thread tugged.

You wouldn’t pull it. Not yet. You tried to stay mentally there but, your mind was racing now.

Nanami was finishing a line item on the spreadsheet, fingers moving with the same precision he used for everything else. You were still next to him, half-focused on the conversation, the other half filing away Reika’s words like folders in your brain you didn’t want to label just yet.

Both Nanami and Reika were talking about quarterly projections and you just tuned out. Nanami knew what that little takoyaki spot meant to you. Maybe you had no right to be upset about it, but you kind of were. Especially after all the emphasis you put on it being important to you and how you’d only bring people you care about there.

Did he not share that same sentiment? Not even on your behalf? Why did he buy Reika Marumaru? Was it a day you were in the office and he didn’t offer you any?!

“I’m sorry,” you casually interrupted their conversation- fingers toying with the corner of a napkin. “When did Kento bring Marumaru to the office?”

Both heads turned toward you. It was so random to bring up. They’d been well past that topic for over five minutes now. 

Reika paused—a half-second, a blink, subtle but there. Then she offered a polite smile, as if nothing about your question was strange or out of place. “Oh, um… I think it was a few days ago? We were finishing up the financial forecast for next quarter. I totally forgot to bring my lunch—just one of those mornings.”

You nodded slowly, still not looking at her.

“I didn’t say anything,” she went on, “but I guess I was kind of fading out. He must’ve noticed. Next thing I know, he’s back with takoyaki and bottled tea.”

She gave a small laugh, not boastful, not smug. Just honest. “I thought that was really kind of him. Especially because I never even mentioned being hungry. He just… knew.”

The last word hung in the air like smoke.

Nanami didn’t look up. He was still typing, unaware or unwilling to shift the flow of conversation. It wasn’t like you expected him to notice the hairline crack that had just formed inside your chest.

You smiled—genuine enough to pass, but not enough to reach your eyes. “That’s very Kento. He’s always been thoughtful like that.”

You told yourself it was nothing. Of course he brought food to a hungry coworker. Of course he picked Marumaru—it was nearby, and it was good, and maybe it was even muscle memory.

But still… You tucked the feeling away, right behind your ribs, and watched them finish up their project as if you weren’t slowly shrinking beside him.

Just a bit more time passed and it looked like things were finally winding down.

Nanami shut his laptop with a soft click, the echo of finality settling over the room. He stretched once, fingers briefly combing through his hair, before glancing at you and then at Reika.

“That should do it for tonight.” He nodded, his voice smooth and low. “I’ll go over it again in the morning.”

Reika nodded back, organizing her papers into a slim folder. “Sounds good. Thank you again, Nanami-san. For… everything.”

You offered her a warm smile, even if it didn’t quite match the twitch behind your cheek. She returned it, but it was what she said next that caught you off guard.

“I really appreciate how professional you both are. It’s not always easy coming into a place where people already have relationships. I was nervous honestly when I heard Nanami-san was dating someone in the same building. Nasty rumors can spread, especially when you spend late nights together, but you’ve been so kind. I really appreciate that.”

You blinked.

There was no hidden meaning in her words. No coy smile. No loaded pause. Just gratitude. Honest, straightforward, disarming. It caught you off guard in the most unexpected way.

“Yeah, Kanzaki it’s no problem. I’m not impervious to rumors so I understand how a few can be life changing. I would never want to do that to anyone else. I’m glad you feel welcomed.”

Nanami slid his hand into yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “Thanks for staying, my love.”

You gave him a side glance, half-teasing. “You always say that.”

“I always mean it.”

Your heart gave the faintest thump.

Reika fell into step with you as the three of you headed toward the elevator, quiet and casual. You didn’t mind the silence. It felt like things had softened between all of you. 

That whole Marumaru thing was truly nothing. You knew that now.

The elevator chimed and opened, and all three of you stepped inside. As it glided downward, Nanami’s thumb brushed gently over the back of your hand, a subtle reassurance.

By the time you reached the parking garage, the strangeness you’d been feeling had dissolved almost completely. Reika bid you both a polite goodnight and peeled off toward her car with a small wave. You and Nanami continued to his, steps in sync.

Maybe Kaya had been wrong this time. Maybe her radar was a little too reactive. You couldn’t fault her for being protective, but not every pretty girl in a pencil skirt was a problem.

Maybe Reika’s past was just rumors. Maybe they were mistakes she learned from. Maybe Marumaru was just a lunch, and maybe—just maybe—Reika would be nothing more than another stressed out coworker.

Three Weeks Later

Office : 6:59pm : Shinjuku

“You mean to tell me you’ve been staying late with Nanami most nights and chopping it up with the homewrecker bitch?!” Kaya shouted.

A few weeks had passed since your first meeting with Reika. Though she was a person who kept you on your toes, it was for all the right reasons. 

She was quick witted and funny. She had great date night restaurant recommendations for you and Nanami. She was around a lot more often, and in your heart of hearts you wish she wasn’t, but that was only because you wanted some alone time with your man. Reika wasn’t a threat.

You leapt for the door, slamming it closed before anyone stragglers from Payroll could overhear her broadcast. “Jesus Christ, Kaya—do you wanna be written up for misconduct?”

Her eyes blazed. “I’m sorry! I just—girl?!”

You tried to stay serious, really you did, but the way she said homewrecker bitch was so dramatic it broke through your composure. 

You covered your mouth and tried not to laugh. “Kaya, stop. She’s not a homewrecker.”

“Oh no?” Kaya’s hands were on her hips, tapping the toe of her heeled boot. “Then what is she? An overachiever who flirts in long-winded work talk?”

You sighed and sat back into your chair, spinning slightly. “Look. Would I love to have my late nights back with Kento? Yes. Am I gonna go all ‘Mean Girls’ and kick her out the office? No. She’s not there every night. Just... most nights.”

Kaya gave you a glare like you just said you’d volunteer to walk into oncoming traffic.

“She’s nice.” You added.

“I don’t care if she gives out gift baskets on Fridays.” Kaya snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s giving ulterior motives. Usually I trust your gut. But right now, your gut is eating up that ‘friendly coworker’ shit like it’s a fucking buffet.”

You raised a brow. “Have you even met her?”

“No.” She said without hesitation. “And I won’t. Because I don’t talk to snakes.”

You chuckled. “Oh my God. Stop. I trust Kento. It’s not about her.”

Kaya grunted. “You’re better than me. The Marumaru lunch thing alone? I would’ve already demanded he buy me three apology Birkin’s.”

You snorted. “Kaya…”

She cut you a look. “Nope. I said what I said.”

You closed your laptop and leaned forward, arms resting on the desk. “I hear you. But truthfully? With her around, Kento’s workload’s gotten lighter. He’s not as burnt out. He’s... coming home a little earlier. He’s less stressed.”

“Yeah, less stressed with her.” Kaya grabbed her purse and flung it over her shoulder. “I’m just saying, rats don’t announce themselves. You only know they’re around after the damage is done.”

You followed her lead, shutting down your system and grabbing your bag. “You’re dramatic.”

“I’m right.” She shook her head, heading to the door.

You gave a final glance around the office, then followed. “Well, she’s off tonight, so even if I was insecure—which I’m not—I don’t have to think about it.”

Kaya shook her head. “I hope I’m wrong. Because you’re my girl, and if you get hurt, I will glitterbomb her granny’s house.”

“Not the granny.” You smiled softly, nudging her arm. “Thanks. We’ll be fine.”

You pressed up and she pressed down. Both elevators opened and you both went your separate ways waving each other off. You stepped in and headed up.

The elevator chimed softly as it reached the 60th floor, and your tired body leaned into the metallic walll. You exhaled through your nose, smiling faintly. 

It was Friday, and no matter how exhausting the week had been, Friday nights were yours and Nanami’s. No meetings. No Reika. No distractions. Just you and him.

You’d remove your tie on the way up and throw it in your purse. You knew no one would be up here besides you two, so you’d unbutton your shirt just a few to get his eyes off the screen.

The doors slid open, and the first thing that hit you wasn’t the warm light or the keyboard being clicked furiously… but the sound of laughter.

Not just any laughter. His laughter. You paused mid-step, head tilting slightly. Nanami didn’t really laugh. Not in the office, not even when you pulled a particularly good joke out of your back pocket. At best, you got a soft snort or a smirk. But this? This was a laugh with teeth.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you stepped forward, heels clicking quietly against the polished floor… and then you saw them.

Reika was perched on the edge of Nanami’s desk, leaning halfway over to show him something on a spreadsheet. Her legs crossed delicately, the hem of her too-short, too-tight black dress creeping higher each time she shifted. Her hair was styled—curled, for god’s sake—and she was wearing stilettos like she was about to hit a rooftop lounge.

Nanami was seated back slightly, one hand propped under his chin as he looked at her screen. His expression was relaxed. Not the exhausted stoicism you were used to seeing by this hour.

Reika looked back, smiling with a brightness that bordered on staged. “Oh hey!” 

You forced a smile. “Hi.”

She grinned, still sitting too comfortably close to your man. “I was just showing Kentochi here how to make this spreadsheet work more efficiently. You know—so he can actually get out of here before midnight.” She nudged his shoulder playfully. “He totally messed up the formulas though. Now we have to start all over.”

Kentochi?

You blinked slowly, dragging your coat off and dropping into the guest chair at his desk. “Kentochi?” You echoed.

Reika laughed. “Yeah! It happened, like, two days ago. He was going on and on about the health benefits of kimchi—” she made a little circle with her finger near her temple, “—just rambling, honestly. I was like, ‘Okay Kentochi, chill.’ The whole office was dying. It stuck.”

You looked at Nanami. He gave you a small shrug, like even he didn’t know how the hell this nickname got legs.

“That's not really like him,” you attempted to keep your voice casual. “To go on and on like that. Especially at work.”

Reika laughed again—again, with that laugh—and nodded. “Right?! Guess he just needed the right work buddy around.” She winked at you.

Nanami coughed lightly into his fist, but she kept going, oblivious. “Now people are calling us work husband and wife—can you believe that? It’s so dumb. I keep telling them to cut it out but, you know how bored people get at work.” She rolled her eyes.

Nanami finally spoke, tone even. “I haven’t heard anyone say that.”

“Oh come on,” she tilted her head like he was the one being ridiculous. “Yoichi-san said it this morning. You didn’t hear that? You were right there!”

You crossed one leg over the other, folding your hands in your lap. “Yeah, people do like starting shit in the office.”

The air stilled for a moment. Reika blinked. Nanami glanced at you, sensing the shift.

You just smiled, lips tight, and leaned back in your chair like nothing was wrong. Like your boyfriend hadn’t apparently adopted a whole office spouse without telling you. Like your secret favorite food place hadn't been casually handed out like a flyer. Like you hadn’t just walked into his laugh—something rare and treasured—and realized you weren’t the only one who could pull it out of him anymore.

This was going to be a long fucking night.

The tension in the office felt thicker than the cheap corporate carpet. You kept your smile pasted on, the polite one that didn’t reach your eyes, as you set Nanami’s dinner on the edge of his desk. You opened the containers methodically—rice, grilled vegetables, miso soup—arranging them in front of him like it was a normal Friday night, like you weren’t sitting three feet away from this.

His hand moved over to your thigh like normal, but you didn’t feel the warmth from it. You were too upset to.

Reika was still laughing, perched on the corner of Nanami’s desk like it was hers. She was going on about some dumbass story you had no interest in.

“—and then he tells Yoichi-san that we don’t have enough leeway to make the budget stretch for Q3, right? And I swear, he does this little thing—” she deepened her voice and did a deadpan impression, “—‘I don’t deal in optimism, only probability.’”

She smirked. “Yoichi nearly spit his coffee out. It was so dramatic. We still tease him about it.”

Nanami hummed, barely glancing up from his monitor, but you caught the flicker of his lip—an almost-smile.

You forced a laugh, sliding a pair of chopsticks across to him. “That’s… funny.” Your voice soft but clipped.

Reika nodded enthusiastically, oblivious—or maybe not. “Oh, and don’t even get me started on yesterday. He kept muting himself on the conference call because I was cracking him up. Didn’t you, Kentochi?”

Nanami gave a quiet, noncommittal, “Mm,” and started on the vegetables you laid out.

You adjusted your posture, staying composed. If she wanted to run her mouth, fine. If Nanami wanted to let her, fine. You weren’t going to show your cards.

But then she sighed dramatically, crossing one leg over the other. “You know, technically this was supposed to be my day off.”

Your head turned slightly.

She glanced at you as if confiding in you now, like you two were girlfriends. “But Kentochi here kept texting about how stressed he was, so I came in. Couldn’t leave him to drown, you know?”

Nanami’s head lifted at that, and for half a second, relief passed through you—finally.

“That’s not true.” He shook his head, looking at her. “You texted to ask if I was okay. I told you there was a lot of work but I was fine.”

Reika waved her hand dismissively, her grin playful, teasing. “Oh please. You seemed soooo collected when you asked me about the Tanaka clients. Totally calm, right? Don’t make me show your girlfriend the receipts of you being stressed.” She laughed lightly, tilting her head as she added, “I was supposed to be out with the girls tonight, and yet, here I am.”

And just like that, the relief vanished because he didn’t correct her again. He didn’t say anything at all.

He just went back to his spreadsheet. Like it was normal. Like the insinuation that he’d pulled her away from her personal life to spend Friday night with him wasn’t inappropriate as hell.

You kept your expression smooth, controlled, even as your chest tightened.

If she noticed your silence, she didn’t care. She kept talking, but you’d stopped hearing it. You were just waiting—hoping—for Nanami to cut her off, to clarify, to say something, anything. 

‘No that’s not true.’ 

‘Don’t call me Kentochi.’ 

‘Stop sitting on my desk.’ 

‘I wasn’t muting myself in the meeting because of you.’

He didn’t. Say. Anything. 

That was the final crack. You couldn’t take this. Perhaps you’d been coping with Reika’s new presence. Telling yourself it was fine when you really didn’t feel good about it at all.

You straightened suddenly, plastering on an apologetic smile. “Oh, shoot. I completely forgot—I was supposed to pick something up from Kaya’s apartment tonight.”

Nanami glanced at you then, chopsticks pausing. “I thought she left already.”

“She’s still here.” You lied easily, standing to gather your things. “We were supposed to ride together. I’ll grab it and pack it in after.”

He nodded slowly, not questioning you further. “All right. Text me when you get in. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back. We can try that new facial cleanser tonight.”

“Of course.” You leaned down to give him a peck like you always did, and even though you smiled when his hand caressed your cheek, your chest felt heavy.

Reika gave you a little wave as you stepped toward the door. “Have a good night!”

You returned it with that same polite smile. “You too.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have left, but you couldn’t stay there. You couldn’t let this woman talk all this bullshit and Nanami not correct her on a damn thing. You needed to talk to him, but not right now. 

You didn’t call Kaya. You couldn’t. Not when you could already hear her voice saying I told you so. Not when you didn’t even know what to feel besides embarrassed.

You were supposed to trust him. You still did, but what the hell was that?

You didn’t know where you were going, only that you needed to be anywhere but there.

You stormed out of the building like the polished glass doors had personally offended you. Your heels clicked sharp and fast against the marble lobby floor, each step echoing the fuck this pounding in your chest. You were furious. Not just upset—irate.

Your hands curled around the strap of your bag so tight you could feel the tendons in your wrist strain. 

For half a second—half a wicked, violent second—you actually imagined lifting the seal, marching back up there, and hitting her with a Proclamation of Tilt. Watching Reika eat carpet in those cheap-ass heels.

You exhaled hard, jaw tight. 

Breathe. Breathe. Don’t waste power on this shit.

You stepped out into the night air, the brisk spring chill biting at your flushed cheeks. Cherry blossoms drifted lazily from the trees, scattering under the neon glow of Shinjuku. The streets were bustling—couples laughing, hands intertwined, leaning into each other under the pink canopy of petals.

You slowed your steps, watching one girl press her cheek to her boyfriend’s arm, her grin easy and unbothered. You used to look like that, and now all you could picture was Reika perched on his desk like she belonged there. Her laughing at jokes you hadn’t heard. Her calling him Kentochi like she’d earned that right.

Your stomach twisted. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry.

“Fuck!” You muttered under your breath, kicking at a stray pebble on the sidewalk.

You weren’t going to Nanami’s. Not tonight. Not when you felt like this. His apartment, his key—no. You couldn’t sit across from him with that smile on his face like nothing was wrong, like everything was fine.

Your feet kept moving without direction until something bright caught your eye. Lights. Colors. Music. An arcade.

You stopped on the corner, watching the neon glow flicker across the street, the muffled sounds of buttons being mashed and victory bells ringing spilling out every time someone opened the glass door.

A small smile tugged at your lips despite everything. When was the last time you’d been to one of these? High school? Maybe college?

You tugged your coat tighter around you, breathing in the mix of cherry blossoms and cigarette smoke that clung to the spring air.

It was time to blow off some steam and this was a good place to do it. 

The door slid open with a cheerful chime, and for the first time all night, you felt a flicker of anticipation.

Maybe beating the shit out of a digital opponent would feel just as good as tilting someone in real life.

As soon as you stepped in the arcade was loud, bright, and buzzing with the kind of chaotic energy you desperately needed. 

The flashing lights bounced off your face as you made a beeline for the kiosk. You tugged out your old arcade card from your wallet—a faded blue thing with a half-scratched holographic logo. Perfect, you thought, until the screen flashed ERROR the second you tried to load it.

“Are you kidding me?” you grit your teeth, stabbing at the touchscreen again. “Take the money. Take the fucking money.”

The machine beeped, thought about it, and finally displayed BALANCE UPDATED.

“Finally,” you hissed.

You turned to survey the rows of machines. Claw games, DDR, air hockey, racing sims. There were too many options, but your patience was shot. You needed something easy. Something stupid.

Your eyes landed on the empty row of skee-ball machines.

“Perfect.” you sauntered over, swiping your card. The machine flashed to life, balls rolling toward you in a neat little row.

You picked one up, but as soon as you felt the weight of it in your hand, your brain flashed to her. Reika’s stupid voice in your head, laughing at some offhanded joke she’d made earlier about Kentochi’s strong hands—probably great for tossing balls around, huh?

Your grip tightened as you wound back your arm. Instead of the gentle underhand toss skee-ball was meant for, you hurled it like you were pitching in the bottom of the ninth.

Dead center.

“Hah.”

You grabbed the next ball. Center. Another. And another. Perfect. Your breathing steadied with each throw until one hit the corner ring, bounced off the edge, and rolled back with a mocking spin.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” A voice drawled behind you, amused and deep. “What the hell did that skee-ball do to you?”

You froze, turning slightly to see him leaning against the railing behind you.

Tall. Solid build. Around six feet, maybe a little more. His buttoned-down white shirt was rolled at the sleeves, his black slacks pressed crisp, and his brown coat slung over his forearm. He had spiky brown hair that looked just messy enough to seem effortless. His sharp features softened when his lips curled into a teasing grin.

“Seriously,” he continued, gesturing to the machine. “Play like that and you’re gonna take someone’s head off.”

You narrowed your eyes, not appreciating the interruption. “What?”

He held his hands up, mock-innocent. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m impressed. Just… not exactly regulation technique.”

You turned to face him fully, and the arcade light caught his face. His eyes widened just briefly, like he’d seen a ghost.

“Whoa.” He spoke softly before catching himself, his smirk sliding back into place. “Didn’t expect to find—uh…” He cleared his throat. “A suit in a place like this.”

Your brows lifted. You looked him up and down, unimpressed. “You’re in a suit.”

He glanced down at himself and shrugged. “Fair. But still, that’s not how you play this game.”

You pointed at the glowing numbers on your machine, “I beg to differ.”

He shrugged. “I can beat that.”

You tilted your head, skeptical. “Who are you?”

He gave a polite little bow, that teasing spark never leaving his eyes.

He pointed at the nametag pinned to your suit jacket. “Nice to meet you. Name’s Kusakabe.”

You unpinned your nametag and threw it in your purse. You’d then gesture toward the skee-ball machine with a flourish. “Go ahead, hotshot. Show me how it’s done.”

Kusakabe grinned, stepping up like he was about to perform a miracle. He picked up a ball, rolled his shoulders, and… promptly launched it into the gutter lane.

What the fuck?

The second ball? Slammed so hard it ricocheted back toward his shins. 

“Shit!” He winced in pain.

By the time he hit the last shot, it landed squarely in the lowest-scoring pit, you were biting your lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Finally, you crossed your arms. “I cannot believe you would ever approach me like you had the moral high ground when you are this bad at skee-ball.”

Kusakabe rubbed the back of his neck, laughing sheepishly. “Yeah, okay, I didn’t think I was going to be this bad.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “So what, you thought my throws were a fluke? That’s what this was?”

His grin softened into something sly. “I’d never underestimate you.”

That pulled a twitch of a smile from you, but you weren’t letting him off the hook. “So what are you even doing in here? Are you good at anything?”

He pretended to think, hand on his chin. “Air hockey.”

You grabbed the skee-ball tickets that printed out, smirking as you turned toward the empty table. “Oh, you’re about to regret saying that. Come on. I’m gonna whoop your ass.”

You hastily made your way over before anyone else could stake claim.

The air hockey table glowed neon as you swiped your card and grabbed the paddle. Kusakabe took his side, looking way too relaxed for someone about to get humbled.

Thirty seconds in, you were already eating your words.

The puck zipped past you for the fourth time in under a minute, and you slammed your paddle down dramatically. “Hold the fuck on. I need to roll my sleeves up. I wasn’t even trying.”

Kusakabe chuckled low in his throat. “Take your time. I’ll wait.”

You glared at him, removing your jacket and tugging your sleeves past your elbows. “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not mocking.” His grin widened. “Just enjoying the show.”

You narrowed your eyes, gripping the paddle tighter. “I’m about destroy you, Kusakabe-kun.”

His brows rose slightly, clearly amused. “Kun? You’re not older than me.”

You shrugged with a smirk. “Maybe not, but I’m about to son you, so it makes no difference.”

The puck dropped back onto the table.

“Okay.” He leaned forward, eyes sharp and teasing. “Let’s see it.”

The game had turned into an all-out war.

The puck ricocheted back and forth at lightning speed, the clack of plastic on plastic echoing over the blaring arcade music. You were bent low over the table, focused, breathing harder than you wanted to admit.

“Seven to seven,” Kusakabe drawled, looking annoyingly calm.

You narrowed your eyes, leaning in with determination. “Don’t get cocky, Kusakabe-kun.”

His grin ticked up, smug and unbothered. “Oh, I’m not cocky. Just comfortable.”

Your grip tightened on the paddle. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”

“Mm. Doubtful.”

You bent further over the table, every muscle tense, eyes tracking the puck. Kusakabe mirrored you in a loose, almost lazy stance. He was smug, and for a moment, you almost wanted to slap the look off his face.

But then—Your shirt shifted just slightly as you lunged for a shot, the button up gaping a fraction. Not enough for most people to notice anything… but Kusakabe wasn’t most people. 

His gaze flicked for a split second—barely a heartbeat—catching the glimpse of black ink against your chest. A coin-sized tattoo. Words or perhaps patterns that weren’t words at all—unreadable to anyone who didn’t already know, or maybe it was a language no one ever knew in the first place.

His paddle stuttered for half a second, and that was all you needed.

“YES!” You shouted, slamming the puck dead-center into his goal. The machine lit up in victory as you jumped back from the table, throwing your hands in the air. “You suck, Kusakabe-kun!”

He straightened slowly, his usual relaxed expression back in place. If he’d noticed anything, he didn’t show it. He just gave a small shrug. “I concede.”

You snatched the fresh batch of tickets the machine spit out, bowing with exaggerated politeness. “I’m more than willing to let you win me more tickets.”

His brows rose, amused. “Oh, it’s like that, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s like that,” you chuckled.

He looked around the arcade for a second before pointing toward the knockout punching machine in the corner—the one surrounded by a small crowd of drunk salarymen trying to outdo each other.

You followed his gaze, narrowing your eyes. “Oh, you think you’re being funny?”

“I’m not being funny at all.” His smirk widened.

You crossed your arms, nodding. “Okay, let’s do it. I want all your tickets when I blow your score out of the water.”

Kusakabe stepped aside, motioning toward the machine with a slight bow. “Fair enough.”

“Good. Hope you don’t cry when you lose.”

“Only if you hit harder than you play air hockey,” he countered smoothly, following behind you.

You shot him a look over your shoulder. “Oh, you’re super dead, Kusakabe-kun.”

The punching machine loomed in front of you, its digital scoreboard glowing bright red. A couple of onlookers moved aside as Kusakabe stepped up, rolling his shoulders with an ease that screamed quiet confidence.

He took one clean step back, twisted his hips, and drove his fist into the bag effortlessly. The machine rattled from the impact, the score climbing rapidly until it landed at 872 with a cheerful ding.

Your eyebrows shot up, impressed. “Damn.”

Kusakabe turned back to you with a raised brow. “You thought I was weak?”

You tilted your head, smirking. “I don’t even know you, Kusakabe-kun. But alright, points for making a good first impression.”

You stepped forward, gripping your skirt slightly to hike it up just enough to move comfortably. You grabbed the punching bag lightly, testing its weight before stepping back into a stance.

You could obliterate that score. You could send this machine into the wall if you wanted to. Even with your cursed energy sealed, you were still a former Special Grade sorcerer—stronger, faster, and sharper than anyone in this room… But you couldn’t.

You didn’t even want to get close to his score. Too much attention. Too many questions. No one would believe a soft HR worker could hit like that.

So, you deliberately pulled back your strength, snapping your punch at just enough speed to look impressive but nowhere near what you were capable of. The machine beeped after a second, landing at 525.

You shook out your wrist, pretending to wince. “Shit.”

Kusakabe didn’t even blink before saying, “You held back.”

Your head snapped toward him. “What?”

He shrugged, leaning casually against the machine, his expression unreadable but his tone firm. “You held back.”

You stared at him, trying to read if he was teasing, but his eyes stayed steady on yours. He wasn’t joking. He meant it.

You tilted your head, masking your thoughts with a playful grin. “What makes you say that?”

He gave a small shrug. “Call it instinct. You’ve got better form than that. Your weight transfer was perfect, but you pulled your shoulder at the last second.”

You blinked, covering the way your stomach tightened. Shit. How the hell did he catch that? You’d intentionally scored lower, even choosing a number that fell into the believable high-end range. But for him to notice—

Who the hell was this guy?

You kept smiling, forcing your voice light. “So you wanna run it again?”

Kusakabe tilted his head toward the machine. “You wanted to run everything else back. Why not this one?”

You widened your eyes, clasping your hands dramatically. “But my wrists are dainty, Kusakabe-kun.”

He chuckled, leaning closer slightly. “One more shot. You first. Loser buys drinks.”

You gave an exaggerated groan, stomping one foot. “Fine… fine! But since you wanna show off so bad, we’re playing Connect Four after this!”

“Fine by me.”

You flexed your fingers, stepping back into position. If he wanted to push you, fine—you’d play his little game. But this time, you had to score just high enough to look convincing… without blowing your cover.

“Alright, Kusakabe-kun,” you eyed the punching bag with a grin. “Hope you like buying drinks.”

You inhaled, focused, and snapped your punch forward with just enough strength to be believable. The bag thudded hard, the machine rattled, and the score climbed before stopping at 680.

You stepped back with a pout, “Damn… I really thought I had it that time.”

He didn’t even try to match your energy. He just gave you a lazy side-eye and, without shifting his posture much, threw what could barely be considered a punch. The bag wobbled, the machine beeped pathetically, and the score landed at a pitiful 283.

You stared at him, jaw dropping. “Excuse me?! You can’t just—”

“You like beer?” Kusakabe yawned totally unfazed. 

You blinked, still processing. “Don’t try to change the subject. Give me your tickets. You owe me.”

He sighed dramatically but handed over the wad of tickets without argument. “Fine, fine. But just know if you’re gonna keep holding back, then so will I.”

You froze mid-motion, stuffing his tickets into your stack. “…Excuse me?”

He gave you that same sharp side-eye. “No way you’re maxed at 680. Not with your form. You pulled back again.”

Your grip on the tickets tightened, but you didn’t respond. Instead, you kept your smile plastered on like nothing was wrong. 

Fuck. He’s sharp. Too sharp for comfort.

You straightened your skirt with a shrug. “Blue Moon. With the orange. That’s what I’ll have.”

Kusakabe tilted his head, amused. “Really?”

You raised a brow. “Why are you so surprised?”

He shrugged as the two of you walked toward the bar counter. “You just seem like a Corona girl.”

You scoffed, shooting him a look. “You’re making a lot of assumptions tonight without even knowing me.”

“Maybe I’d like to.” He said simply, without missing a beat.

Your steps faltered for half a second, heart kicking a little faster. You swallowed, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. He didn’t look teasing now—his tone was smooth, casual, but the meaning was there.

Is this situation okay?

You followed Kusakabe as he stepped up to the counter. “Two beers, please. One Blue Moon, one Modelo.” He told the bartender before turning back to face you.

That was when your heart really kicked. Not because of him—well, maybe a little—but because your mind betrayed you, flashing to Nanami.

You thought about how your relationship had been perfect up until three weeks ago. Before the late nights. Before Reika. Before you started noticing these things.

Kusakabe might have been charming, easy to talk to, and sharper than anyone you’d met since Nanami, but… he was not for you. Not in this life.

You loved Kento Nanami. You loved him enough to keep fighting for this relationship, even when you felt that tiny crack widening.

The bartender slid the beers toward you. Kusakabe grabbed them first, passing you your Blue Moon, the orange slice perched perfectly on top.

“Thanks,” you nodded, sliding into a booth tucked away in the corner.

He sat across from you, taking a sip of his Modelo. You turned your beer slowly in your hands before speaking, finally deciding to rip the bandage off.

“Listen, I like you but I have to be honest—”

“You’re taken.” Kusakabe cut you off easily, his voice calm.

You blinked. “What—?”

He smirked faintly, leaning back. “I know. Woman like you doesn’t stay single for long.”

You sat back slowly, fingers tightening around your glass. “…And you don’t mind hanging out still? I’ll have you know I’m a very loyal woman.”

“Relax.” He held up one hand in mock surrender. “I’m not here to test your morals. I just wanted to meet someone interesting on a Friday night.”

The tension in your chest loosened slightly. You let out a small laugh, taking a sip of your beer. “Well… fair enough.”

Kusakabe tipped his bottle slightly toward you. “Fair enough.”

The two of you sat there, the glow of the arcade lights reflecting off your drinks, the muffled sounds of machines and laughter filling the air. For the first time all night, you felt yourself actually start to breathe.

Kusakabe leaned back in his seat, his long frame somehow both relaxed and poised. He held his Modelo loosely in his hand, eyes flicking toward you every so often with a look that felt too sharp for someone you’d just met tonight.

“So…” he started, taking a slow drink before setting his bottle down, “What’s the verdict? Do I live up to your expectations as an arcade partner, or are you filing me under bad life choices?”

You snorted, swirling your beer. “Oh, you’re definitely under bad life choices. The skee-ball alone got you disqualified from the respectable category.”

He smirked. “I won’t argue with that. I was being a little presumptuous. Though you don’t mind, clearly. You’re sitting right across from me with no problem.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m sitting here because I haven’t finished my beer. That’s it.”

“Sure. You just happen to be drinking with a bad life choice on a Friday night?”

You took a sip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of answering.

He changed the subject smoothly. “So what do you actually do, aside from humiliating strangers in arcade games?”

You raised a brow, setting your beer down. “Human Resources.”

That caught him off guard. “You’re in HR?”

“Why does everyone say it like that?”

He chuckled. “No offense, but you don’t exactly have HR energy.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You seem… louder. Like you’d be the one getting called into HR, not running it.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Wow. Slander. I am a model employee, thank you very much.”

“Sure,” he’d reply with that same dry tone.

“And what about you, huh? What do you do?”

He paused for a moment, then shrugged casually. “Teach.”

That made you blink. “Teach? Like… college?”

“High school,” he corrected, taking another slow sip.

You tilted your head, studying him. “You teach high school students?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because you don’t look like a teacher. You look like… I don’t know, a bodyguard or something. Maybe a salaryman who’s too cool for his own office.”

He laughed quietly at that, leaning an elbow on the table. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But yeah. High school. It’s not as bad as people think.”

You hummed, tapping your fingers on the table. “Huh. Kusakabe the teacher. Didn’t have that on my bingo card tonight.”

He smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Didn’t have you on mine either.”

You raised a brow. “Oh, is that your smooth line for the night?”

“No,” he shook his head, voice low and amused. “That was just the truth.”

Your heart skipped for a second, and you quickly looked down at your drink, smiling into the rim of the glass. 

Platonic. This is platonic.

You exhaled and set your beer down, leaning back in your seat. “Alright. No. We’re not doing this.”

He tilted his head, confused. “Doing what?”

“This polite, vaguely-amusing small talk. You said you wanted to meet someone interesting on a Friday night? Then let’s be interesting.”

His eyebrow quirked. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Twenty-one questions,” you grinned, crossing your arms like it was law. “Come on. No holds barred. I’ll answer anything, and so will you.”

Kusakabe sat back, considering you for a moment before slowly adjusting his sleeves, rolling them up a bit more in a way that looked deliberate, almost like he was settling in for a fight. “Alright. Twenty-one questions. No holding back.”

You grinned. “Good. I’ll start. What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done for someone you liked?”

His smirk widened, and for the first time tonight, his eyes glinted with something almost wicked. “Oh, this is going to get dangerous, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, leaning in. “Now spill.”

“I once stood in line for four hours to buy some stupid, limited-edition perfume because the girl I liked mentioned she wanted it… and then she ghosted me a week later.”

You gasped dramatically. “Ouch! Did you at least keep the perfume?”

He tilted his bottle toward you. “I gave it to my sister. She was thrilled.”

You laughed, tapping your nails on the table. “Okay, that’s fair. But still, four hours? That’s dedication.”

“Your turn,” he tipped his chin toward you.

You sighed, taking a drink. “Okay, fine. Dumbest thing I’ve ever done? That’s hard to pinpoint. I’ve done a lot of dumb shit in the name of love, so I guess I’ll throw you a random one. Junior year of college, I agreed to pretend to be someone’s girlfriend for a week to make his ex jealous. I thought he would end up liking me for helping him for some reason.”

Kusakabe raised a brow. “Did it work?”

“Oh, for him, yeah. For me, no. They got back together. Married now. I believe they have two kids.”

“Wow.”

“Right? Next question.”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “What’s your biggest dealbreaker?”

You tilted your head. “For dating?”

He gave you a slow, knowing look. “Unless you’re screening for roommates, yeah.”

You grinned. “Biggest dealbreaker? Lying. I hate liars. That includes lying by omission.”

“Noted.” He nodded before taking another sip of his beer. “Your turn.”

“Okay… biggest turn-on?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual. “Or like, not turn-on but you know. What do you like?”

“My turn on?” Kusakabe didn’t miss a beat. “Confidence… and a mean right hook.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “A mean right hook?!”

He smirked at you. “What? I like someone who can handle themselves.”

You rolled your eyes. “Figures.”

“Okay you now. What’s your biggest turn-on?”

You felt your cheeks warm slightly, but you answered anyway. “Good hands?”

Kusakabe’s brows lifted just slightly, and you instantly regretted saying it out loud.

“Good hands, huh?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you pointed at him with mock sternness.

He chuckled low in his throat. “Just an interesting answer, that’s all.”

The questions kept rolling—favorite food, favorite childhood memory, and guilty pleasures… you admitted you sometimes still binge trashy reality shows, and he—shockingly—admitted he liked baking cakes in his free time.

Somewhere between the laughter, you found yourself loosening up more than you meant to, almost forgetting the weight sitting in your chest all night.

For a moment, you let yourself imagine how much better this would feel if Nanami were sitting here instead. If he were the one laughing with you over cheap beer and dumb arcade games. If he were the one making you forget the world outside for a little while.

But Nanami wasn’t here. And this wasn’t him.

Kusakabe took another sip, eyes narrowing slightly in thought before he asked his final question. “Okay. Last one. What’s the story behind the tattoo?”

You blinked. “What tattoo?”

He tilted his head, clearly fighting a smirk. “You have more than one?”

Your heart skipped. You frowned, confused—until it clicked. Shit.

He wasn’t talking about an actual tattoo. He was talking about the seal.

You’d placed the Seal of Absolution on your left breast this morning, tucked away under your button-up, thinking no one would notice. But you’d unbuttoned the top few buttons on your way up to see Nanami earlier, trying to feel just a little bit sexier after a long week.

You hadn’t even realized it might’ve been visible when you leaned over at any point.

You took a slow sip of your beer, masking your panic. “It’s family-related,” you spoke finally, keeping your tone casual, vague.

Kusakabe watched you for a long moment, his gaze unreadable before he nodded slowly. “It’s beautiful.”

You looked at him over the rim of your glass, trying to keep your expression neutral. “We’ll see how much you like it when I kick your ass at Connect Four.”

That broke the tension instantly. His mouth quirked into a grin as he set his beer down. “Here she goes again.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, leaning back with a grin of your own. “There I go.”

He began standing and motioning toward the nearest game with a smirk. “Well come on. I’m not going easy on you this time.”

“You already lost the right to talk big after skee-ball,” you teased, sliding out of the booth.

“Keep talking. You’re gonna regret it.”

The two of you dumped the last of your beers into your mouths as you made your way toward the giant digital Connect Four machine tucked into a corner of the arcade. The screen was bright with oversized glowing circles, and every time someone scored, it flashed and played a ridiculous victory jingle.

You set your empty Blue Moon bottle down on the side ledge of the machine and rolled your shoulders like you were about to step into a boxing ring. “Alright, Kusakabe-kun, I’m about to absolutely humiliate your entire bloodline.”

Kusakabe chuckled, casually sliding his Modelo bottle next to yours. “Big words for someone who barely survived air hockey.”

You gasped dramatically. “Barely survived? I let you win half those rounds out of pity!”

“Sure you did.” He swiped the card and the game came to life.

You slapped the big red button, claiming Player One as red. “Ladies first.”

He raised an eyebrow as the first glowing red disc dropped into place. “Ladies first,” he repeated. “But don’t expect me to hold back just because of that.”

You nearly choked, but recovered fast, flashing him a grin. “Good. I’d hate for you to have excuses when I wipe the floor with you.”

The first few moves were calm enough—simple, clean placements. As soon as you started seeing the patterns line up, your eyes narrowed, your game face sliding into place.

“Don’t you dare put that piece there,” you warned, watching him hover over the right column.

Kusakabe grinned, deliberately dropping the black disc exactly where you told him not to. “What? Here? Oh no, did I mess up your plan?”

You pressed your lips together, glaring at the board. “You are so annoying.”

He chuckled as you made your next move, sliding your red piece into place with precise focus.

The game went back and forth, your commentary filling the air as you smacked the buttons. “What are you doing?! That’s a terrible move, Kusakabe-kun! Oh my God, do you even know how to play this game?”

“Apparently better than you,” he said as the board flashed, showing him setting up a potential diagonal.

You sucked in a breath. “Don’t you do it. Don’t you even think about it.”

He looked at you, deadpan. “I’m literally supposed to do it.”

You pointed at him like an angry teacher. “I swear, if you—”

Too late. He dropped the piece, grinning as the machine gave a triumphant ding.

“Four in a row,” he grinned, smug as hell.

You stared at the board, then groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “You lucky bastard.”

Kusakabe leaned slightly closer. “Lucky? Or just better than you?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but your grin betrayed you. “Run it back. Best two out of three.”

He raised a brow. “And if you lose again?”

You crossed your arms. “Not gonna happen. But if by some miracle you win again, I’ll give you all my tickets.”

“Deal,” he agreed immediately, already swiping the machine for the next round.

This time you were locked in—eyes sharp, every move calculated. You critiqued every one of his moves, sometimes out loud, sometimes under your breath, making him laugh every time.

“Why are you putting that there?! Oh my God, you’re literally handing me the win!”

He chuckled. “Maybe I’m feeling generous.”

“Or maybe…” you grinned as you dropped your last red piece, the screen flashing with VICTORY! across it, “you’re just bad at this game.”

Kusakabe sighed, mock-dramatic, as the machine spit out tickets for you. “Guess I’ll have to concede to that too.”

You snatched the tickets, grinning like a kid. “Good. Now gimmie those goddamn tickets!”

Kusakabe tilted his head, watching you with that same amused expression. “You’re good at this. Not just the game—this,” he gestured around the arcade, “you’re having more fun than half the kids in here.”

You smirked, adding the tickets into your pile. “Yeah, well, maybe you just bring out the competitive side of me, Kusakabe-kun.”

He chuckled low, shaking his head as he leaned against the machine. “Maybe.”

You’d load up again and run it back another time.

The Connect Four screen glowed in harsh neon yellow, the two of you locked in a ridiculous silent stand-off. Your hand hovered over the button like you were defusing a bomb, Kusakabe leaning across the table with his chin resting on his hand, smirking like he already knew the outcome.

“All or nothing,” your voice serious, eyes darting between the columns. “This is the one that decides it all.”

“You mean the one that decides I win,” Kusakabe replied smoothly.

You shot him a glare. “Don’t get cocky, Kusakabe-kun.”

“You’re one move away from losing.”

“You wish I was,” you narrowed your eyes.

Your finger hovering over the button, and then—

“Uh, excuse me,” came a hesitant voice.

You and Kusakabe turned your heads in unison to see one of the arcade employees standing nearby, holding a broom. “Sorry, folks, but we’re closing for the night. You’ll need to finish up.”

You straightened, exhaling dramatically. “Dammit… Aww, arcade’s closing. Too bad. Guess we’ll never know who was going to win.”

Kusakabe raised a brow, standing up from the booth slowly. “Oh no, we know. You were one move away from losing.”

You waved your hand dismissively, stepping away from the machine. “I actually wasn’t, but tragic, right? Guess we’ll never know for sure now.”

The employee scratched his cheek awkwardly. “Uh… you can actually finish your game if you want. We’re just closing in about fifteen minutes.”

You turned sharply, smile plastered on your face. “Damn, man, it’s too bad! Really, really tragic. Rules are rules, right? Come on, Kusakabe-kun, let’s cash in these tickets.”

Kusakabe chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he followed you toward the prize counter. “You are so obviously trying to get out of losing.”

“I am not,” you said, snatching your wad of tickets and thrusting them toward the employee behind the counter. “This is called accepting fate gracefully. Totally different.”

Kusakabe stood beside you, still chuckling as you plopped the tickets onto the counter, leaning in like a kid on Christmas morning.

The employee fed them into the ticket counter, the machine spitting out a printed slip before glancing at the number. “Alright. 1,643 tickets.”

You grinned wide, bouncing slightly on your heels. “Hell yeah! What can that get me?”

The employee hesitated, glancing between you and Kusakabe. “Uhhh… well, since all of our old prizes are being phased out, you can either get this brand new Playstation… or a bag of lollipops.”

Your eyes widened, leaning forward. “Oh, I want the Playstation, obviously.”

The young employee shook his head. “Sorry, but the Playstation costs forty thousand tickets.”

Your eye twitched. “…Then why would you phrase it like that was an option for me?!”

The employee shrugged apologetically. “It’s company policy to list all available prizes.”

You stared at him for a long second before throwing your hands up in defeat. “Fine. Fine! Just… just give me the candy.”

Kusakabe laughed, low and genuine, rubbing the back of his neck. “You got all worked up for a bag of lollipops.”

You turned to him, crossing your arms. “Don’t mock me. These were hard-earned tickets.”

“I'd never mock the queen of the arcade.”

You shot him a look as the employee handed you the bright pink bag filled with assorted lollipops. You held it up proudly like it was treasure. “Well either way, joke’s on you, because this is premium sugar right here.”

Kusakabe raised an eyebrow, hands in his pockets. “You gonna eat them all yourself?”

You paused, a mischievous grin spreading across your face as you dug into the bag, pulling out a single pink lollipop. Without missing a beat, you held it out to him.

“Here. Eat in case of emergencies.”

He blinked at you, caught off guard for half a second before taking it, turning it over in his fingers. “In case of emergencies, huh?”

“Yup,” you said, smirking. “You never know when life will punch you in the face. Studies show that hard candy helps you focus.”

Kusakabe looked at the lollipop for a long moment before slipping it into his jacket pocket, his expression softer than before. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two of you finally headed out of the arcade and into the cool spring night. The city lights of Shinjuku sparkled against the dark sky. Neon signs reflected off the wet pavement from a light drizzle that passed while you were inside. The cherry blossoms nearby fluttered slightly in the breeze, petals catching in the air as couples walked past, laughing, and holding hands.

You hugged the bag of lollipops to your chest as you both stepped onto the sidewalk, the soft hum of traffic filling the silence. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just walking side by side, the noise of the arcade fading behind you.

Finally, you tilted your head up toward him. “Kusakabe-kun, can I ask you a question?”

He didn’t miss a beat, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Go for it.”

You turned your eyes back to the city skyline, watching the way the lights glittered against the  glass of the high-rises. “Why’d you go to the arcade tonight? I mean… it’s kind of random for a Friday night alone.”

He was quiet for a moment, and when you glanced up, you saw him pause mid-step, like he was debating how to answer. Then his eyes shifted toward you, and a small, almost wry grin tugged at his lips.

“Honestly?” he spoke again, voice low. “I saw a beautiful woman I thought I knew walk in there.”

Your eyebrows rose slightly. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he continued, gaze still locked on yours. “But after talking to her… I realized I didn’t know her at all. Not a damn thing. Not even close.”

Your heart skipped. You stopped walking for just a second, studying him. “…You of know me?”

Kusakabe’s grin widened slightly. “Don’t wanna start this friendship off with lying by omission. So yeah, I can’t deny I’m a fan.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling. “So when you asked about my tattoo, you already knew—”

“That your answer was full of shit? Yeah. I knew.”

You exhaled, shaking your head lightly.

“The Seal of Absolution is hard to miss.” His tone was respectful, not teasing this time. “Rumors have spread for years, you know. That you died. That you vanished. That you went into hiding. I’m just glad it wasn’t the first one.”

You stayed quiet, unsure what to say.

“I’ve always been intrigued by the legacy,” he added, his voice softer now, his gaze steady on yours. “But after meeting you tonight… I’m happier to have met the woman instead of the legend.”

That made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect. Your legacy preceded you in a major way. It was tough to find anyone who wanted to meet you and not the person you were. 

Kusakabe stepped closer, not too close, but enough that you could feel the warmth of him against the cool air. “I get that you went into hiding for a reason. I won’t ask why. But just know—the secret of your status is safe with me.”

You swallowed, then gave him a small, genuine smile. “…Thank you. Not just for keeping it secret, but… for treating me like a person. Like… like me. Not who I was.”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes softening. “You’ve always been a person first. Maybe if more people remembered that, you wouldn’t have felt like you had to disappear at all.”

You didn’t have an answer to that. The words hit deeper than he probably realized, lodging somewhere in your chest, heavy and warm all at once. 

All you could do was nod softly, looking down for a moment. “…Thanks, Kusakabe-kun.”

A breeze drifted through, carrying the faint scent of cherry blossoms. Kusakabe glanced at the petals swirling around the streetlights, then looked back at you. 

“It’s chilly out. Would it be out of line if I offered you my jacket?”

You blinked, smiling gently. “…Yes. It would be.”

He gave a small nod of understanding, not pushing it. “Okay. Then the least I can do is make sure you get home alright.”

Before you could respond, he stepped off the curb slightly, flagging down a cab with a casual wave. Within seconds, a yellow car pulled over, the driver rolling down the window. Kusakabe handed him enough money to get you home and some. He'd then open the back door for you—stepping aside with that same calm presence he carried all night.

You held the lollipop bag tighter, heart racing a little for reasons you didn’t want to name.

As you moved to get in, you turned to look at him, finding him standing just a little closer than before, his expression softened under the glow of the streetlights.

“Hey…” you started, hesitating for a second before meeting his eyes. “…You going to the reunion?”

Kusakabe paused, watching you for a long moment. Then a small, almost amused smile curved his lips.

“I wasn’t.” He spoke low and even. “…But I think I am now.”

You nodded once, quickly ducking into the cab before you could think too hard about why his answer made your stomach flip. 

This was a very dangerous friendship. You knew that, and perhaps that’s why you'd leave without asking for a number or any social media. In your gut, you knew that the two of you couldn’t be casual friends, so it was probably best not to be friends at all.

“Hey!” You stuck your head out the window just as the cab was peeling off. “Just so we're clear- I know you held back on the punching machine too. If they ever make one that surpasses the current limit- let's rematch for real.”

“You got it.” He'd nod.

You sat pressed against the cool glass after rolling up the window. The lollipop bag clutched in your lap, staring out into the night.

Your eyes drifted back toward the arcade entrance as it faded in the distance—and there he was. Kusakabe, still standing on the sidewalk, hands tucked in his pockets, his sharp features softened by the streetlight. He caught your gaze through the glass, and for a fleeting second, he gave you a small nod before turning to walk the opposite way.

You leaned back in the seat, heart heavy. 

Was this night out of line?

Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. But you’d spent hours with another man—an attractive man who made you laugh, who was sharp enough to keep up with you and knew things about you that you hadn’t said out loud in years. It felt easy in a way that…

You pressed your lips together, cutting the thought off before it could finish. No. You love Kento. You love him more than anything. Still, the guilt sat like a rock in your stomach.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked down, eyes widening. Three missed calls from Kento.

Before you could process, it buzzed again—his name flashing across the screen.

You swallowed hard and answered. “Kento?���

His voice came through immediately, tight with worry. “Sweetheart, where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for thirty minutes. I even called Kaya, and she said you weren’t with her.”

You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the seat. “I’m okay, Kento. I just… I just needed some fresh air, that’s all.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end before his voice softened, concerned. “Sweetheart, what’s gotten into you? Are you sure you’re alright?”

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the phone. “I’m fine. Really. I just…” 

You hesitated, teeth sinking into your lip. You wanted to tell him. You wanted to just say it—that you were uncomfortable, that Reika’s presence was gnawing at you more than you wanted to admit.

But how could you tell him that without sounding jealous? Without sounding like you didn’t trust him?

You inhaled, finally working up the courage to speak, when a faint voice drifted through the line.

“Kentochi, do you still have my pen? I think I dropped it in your car last time.”

Last time?

You froze. Your stomach dropped. “Kento… is that Kanzaki?”

“Yes.”

You sat up straighter, your voice tightening. “Are you still at the office?”

“I’m leaving now.”

“Leaving as in… leaving the building or leaving in your car?”

“I’m in the car.”

You felt your pulse spike, anger flaring through the sadness. “You’re driving her home?”

“She was having car trouble.” He spoke evenly. “Her apartment is on the way home. She stays near—”

“Kento, you can’t just—!” you cut him off, your voice breaking.

Silence followed. You could feel your eyes sting, tears welling fast. You covered your mouth with your free hand, taking shaky breaths.

“…Sweetheart?” He spoke quieter now. “Are you upset? What’s wrong?”

You forced a deep inhale, trying to steady your voice. “I— I just… I really need some sleep, and my place is closer to where I am now, so… I’ll just see you tomorrow, okay? We can talk tomorrow.”

“Wait—”

“Have a good night, Kento.” You sped off the phone, voice cracking on the last word before you hung up.

You stared at the phone in your lap for a long moment, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. The cab light cast a soft glow on the bag of lollipops beside you, and it felt absurdly out of place—bright pink against the hollow ache in your chest.

You sniffed and wiped your face quickly before leaning forward toward the driver. “I’m so sorry, but I… I gave you the wrong address. Can you take me to…” You paused, your voice quiet. “…to my place instead? Let me show you the address.”

The driver nodded, taking a turn at the next light.

Nanami’s apartment was only one stoplight away. But right now? You couldn’t go there.

You stared out the window as the city blurred by, your reflection in the glass showing tired, sad eyes you barely recognized. For the first time in months, you wouldn’t be falling asleep next to him tonight.

The street blurs and time passes. You feel like getting home happened quicker than you expected. You’re back home in no time flat.

The taxi rolled away as soon as you stepped out, its headlights disappearing into the night. The cool air hit your face, carrying the faint smell of rain-soaked asphalt. You stood there for a second, staring up at your apartment building like it was some kind of challenge. Your body felt heavy, drained—not just from the long day, but from the emotional weight clinging to you like wet clothes.

You tugged your bag higher on your shoulder and headed inside, your footsteps echoing as you walked to the elevator… the one Nanami fought to get fixed.

Maybe you’re being childish, you thought, biting your lip. Nanami had been nothing but an incredible partner. He always made you feel loved. Seen. Cherished. Even with his long hours, you two made it work—adjusting your schedules, stealing lunches together when you could, spending almost every night at his place.

But this past month was hard. It hadn’t been the same.

You trusted Kento with every ounce of your being. That had never been the issue. But ever since Reika started working with him, it felt different. Like there was… a wall between you two now. You felt like a third wheel in your own relationship, and the worst part? He hadn’t even mentioned her until you met by coincidence.

You pressed your forehead against the cool elevator wall, sighing as the doors slid shut. Maybe you are overreacting. Kento’s just kind, and that’s part of why you love him. But damn… you hate how this feels.

The elevator dinged at your floor. You trudged down the hall, heels clicking against the polished wood until you reached your door. You unlocked it before stepping inside to silence.

The air felt heavier here than at Nanami’s place. No faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air. No neatly stacked books on the table, no folded jacket draped across the back of a chair. Just… you.

You slipped off your shoes, hanging your keys on the hook by the door before collapsing face-first onto the couch. You stayed there, motionless, staring at nothing until your muscles ached from the position. Finally, with a groan, you peeled yourself off the cushions and dragged yourself toward the bathroom.

The shower was quick, hot water washing off the city’s chill, but it didn’t touch the ache in your chest. Brushing your teeth felt just as mechanical. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror—tired, slightly puffy-eyed, and not at all like the woman Nanami always called beautiful.

You missed him. You even missed the way his products smelled—cologne and sandalwood shampoo.

You sighed heavily, towel drying your hair as you walked back into your bedroom. You sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the soft blankets, already feeling sleep tug at you. Maybe tomorrow you’d talk to him. Maybe tomorrow you’d tell him how you really felt.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Your phone buzzed from inside your purse, vibrating against the nightstand. You froze.

Nanami 🍯📈 sent a message.

Your thumb hesitated before swiping open the message.

[Nanami] 🍯📈: Sweetheart, I hope you’re okay. I’m sorry if I upset you over something tonight. I love you so much. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. If there is something wrong, I’d hope you would feel comfortable enough to share it with me. Sweet dreams my love.

That was it. That was the knife and now you were crying—hard.

Crying because you loved him so much. Because he was perfect. Because you felt guilty about the pleasant night you had with another man. Guilty that you didn’t tell him what was wrong. 

But on the other hand you were upset that he would ignore such obvious signs. That he would put your relationship in jeopardy by blinding himself to red flags. 

It’d been a long time since you felt this shitty, and you hated it.

You curled under the blankets, phone clutched to your chest, tears dampening the pillow. The city hummed outside your window, indifferent to the fact that for the first time in months, you fell asleep without Nanami’s arms around you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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[softcursechoso]

Memoirs from a Gilded Cage: CH. 11

Attack on Titan x Reader

Black!Reader Levi x Reader Erwin x Reader

Masterlist

MDNI 18+ ONLY //NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS

CH. 11 Warnings: Mentions of human trafficking, violence, injury~

Words: 7.1k+

LOOSE ENDS

Underground : 9:26pm : Training Area

The stone floor was damp. Dusty. Smelled like rust.

You stood in the middle of the training area wearing a slit-up-the-thigh silk dress that made no goddamn sense for combat, as per usual. Corset cinched. Cleavage high. Beads catching lantern light like embers. You truly were a masterpiece.

You were training with Levi again and working his last nerve. You said if you lost Warden’s Folly, then you’d stay three straight days. Being a woman of your word- you did that. You had to of course get some extra clothes from home first, and then start your three days. The results were unexpected, however. 

You didn’t expect to feel so whole. Lately the apartment had been feeling like home, but even more so now. You got a taste of the finest underground garbage for the first time, and you didn’t even care- because you felt like you were free. 

Whatever was going on in Mitras didn’t matter to you. Yeah, you’d never been gone this long, but so what? No one was checking for you anyway. Your MP escorts have been quite loyal with the don’t ask don’t tell policy. Perhaps they deserved a raise.

Only thing you missed were your dresses. The commissions from people in Stohess and Trost. The smell of the tulips. The feeling of the sun. There was so much on your mind, even in the middle of this sparring match.

“You’re gonna catch a blade like that.” Levi’s stern voice snapped you out of it. He circled you as he adjusted his grip of the blade in his hand.

“Good.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“I’m not. I said good.” Yeah, you were definitely being a smartass.

He stopped behind you. You could feel his breath, low and tight through his nose. “Again.” He ordered.

You shifted into stance—well, tried to. Your posture was off. Shoulders tense. Highly unusual for how you should be now. You were quite the fighter at this point. You shouldn’t be this off, but you were. You were somewhere else in your mind. Somewhere far away.

The weight of your father’s memoirs pressed against your mind. The words People of the Sunrise echoed in your ribs. The hollow look in Cassius’s eyes when he spat those final cruel words at you. Tinsley’s sad attempts to get back into your life. The countless number of men who tried to have their way with you down here. 

Erwin, and you missed the sight of him. The smell of him. The sound of his commanding voice. You needed to write him back soon. Perhaps you were stalling by staying down here. You didn’t know what to even begin to write…

And then—there was Levi. He was everywhere now. In your mind, your heart, your goddamn bones. The thought of him never threw you off this much. You thought of everything and nothing at the same time. Your intense conversations. The quiet moments. The intimacy of words unspoken.

“You’re off.” He spoke flatly. “You’re way off.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re thinking instead of focusing.”

He moved close. One hand at your waist. His fingers spread wide, tugging your hips into place like you were a mannequin. 

His hand slid up your arm, firm grip adjusting the bend of your elbow. “Loose wrist. Strong shoulder. Don’t get yourself killed for vanity.”

“You calling me pretty?”

“Get in position, now.”

“So pushy.”

“Look at me.”He caught your chin between two fingers and held it in place to catch his eyes. “Don’t drop your guard again.”

You nodded, but you didn’t hear a word. Your heart pounded. Your grip faltered. To hell with this training shit! You had way too much on your mind!

You lunge forward. He blocks. Quick, clean. Your heel slides across the concrete, sparks under your foot. You spin, slice high—he ducks.

“Keep your weight back.” He coaches you mid fight.

Your mind is loud. Too loud. You can’t concentrate! This training exercise is routine but—

“Oh shit.” You gasped, staggered. 

You felt it quick as you came up for a kick. You never tried that before. You weren’t thinking. 

A slice right through your thigh. Blood bloomed immediately, red and hot, spilling like wine down your leg.

The blade swiftly clattered to the ground as Levi’s eyes widened. “Shit—fuck.” 

He caught you as your knees buckled, arms around your back like instinct.

“I’m fine—” You attempted to speak assuredly. 

“You’re not.”

He picked you up with your legs draped over his arm and one on your back. He carried you across the room and sat you gently on a low crate, then dropped to his knees between your thighs.

Blood smeared your silk. You never had a dress ruined in this way. It was new.

He said nothing for a second. Just stared. His jaw was tight. His eyes unreadable… but his hands trembled.

They reached for the slit in your dress—rather high up. You had no right to feel bashful. He’d seen your silk panties, lace panties, cotton panties, every type since training you with ODM gear. This felt different though. You weren’t exposed, but it was so close. He was so close.

His eyes kept tight on your leg as he moved the fabric aside. It wasn’t too deep, but it would scar.

You blinked. “Why’re you acting like I’m dying? I’m fine.”

“This is exactly what I was trying to prevent.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” He said it like it mattered. Like it meant something sacred was broken.

Your perfect, unblemished skin was now blemished by the very man who tried to protect you. Hard to tell if it was poetic or ironic.

You stared down at the blood trickling down your thigh. It should’ve hurt more, but it didn’t. You just felt warm. It wasn’t that deep.

Your hand moved gently to the back of his head. You ran your fingers through the soft undercut. You studied his face as you did. This was really tearing him up, wasn’t it?

“Levi. Please look at me… It’s okay.” You whispered. “Now I have one. My first scar. I’m glad it’s from you.”

His mouth opened, then shut. His throat bobbed. He reached for his shirt, tore a long strip of fabric from the hem and wrapped it slow and tight around your thigh. His touch was careful. Reverent. The blood soaked the linen, spreading deep red.

Your eyes caught movement—his waist, bare for just a second. New scars. Fresh. Pink and violent. You knew they weren’t there the day before. 

You reached for his shirt and pulled it up slightly. Your fingertips brushed across his waist, and you saw them in full.

Your stomach twisted. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

He didn’t respond. His hands remained tending to your thigh. 

You reached out, fingertips dragging over the jagged lines at his side. “Levi…”

Your throat tightened. You did not want to cry, not in front of him—but the tears came fast. Soft and beautiful.

He looked up, attempting to keep calm but he hated to see you cry. “I told you how to make me stop multiple times.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t want you dying for me.”

“I’m not dying. I’m getting answers.”

“You don’t even know what answers you’re looking for. You're just getting hurt.”

“I can take it.”

You swallowed hard. “I know how strong you are, and I know what it takes to hurt you. You don’t get cuts like this from one or two people. You’re going after gangs. Taking too many hits. You’re doing it for me, and it has to stop.”

His voice came out low. Hoarse. “I’ll search until I’m dead, or until you give me what I asked for.”

It hit you again—neither of you knew how to say it. How to name it. This thing between you. This raw, sharp, relentless gravity.

Your jaw clenched. You leaned forward, gripping the back of his head. “I give up. You want answers? You want the truth? I’ll give it to you.”

Your hand moved lower, to the back of his neck, pulled him closer. “I’ll do whatever it takes. You want me to talk? I will. You want names? I’ll give you every goddamn one. Just stop. Just stop doing this to yourself. Please.”

He didn’t move. His hands were gripping your knees now. His breath came shallow. His lips were so close you could feel the heat of them.

He stared at you like he wanted to say something. Like it was clawing at the back of his throat. 

“I want to tell Furlan and Isabel, too.” Your voice was quiet but certain, your hand still resting on the back of Levi’s neck. “You all deserve to know.”

Levi didn’t say a word. He just nodded once, slowly. Then, with one smooth motion, he scooped you up again.

“Levi—” You blinked, startled. “I can—”

“I know you can.”

Still, he didn’t set you down. His arms stayed tight around you, your body cradled against his chest… and you let him.

Maybe because the cut on your thigh still ached. Maybe because your head was spinning. Maybe because it just felt good to be held.

You didn’t say that. Maybe you didn’t even fully know it yet.

Apartment : 10:01pm : Underground

The walk back was short. The underground wasn’t big, but the air between you felt thick. Every step echoed with tension, your heartbeat loud in your ears. Levi didn’t speak, and neither did you.

When he pushed through the door, the quiet snapped.

Isabel was immediately on her feet, her hands flying up, her voice a pitch too high. “What happened?! What the hell—what happened to her?”

Levi lowered you gently onto the couch, your dress still twisted from the walk, and your thigh still bandaged in a strip of his torn shirt.

“I’m fine.” You spoke softly.

“You’re bleeding!”

Furlan stepped into the room, slower. Calmer. He looked at your leg, then at Levi. He could tell it was a minor injury, but he knew how his partner was about you.

“Well.” He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “So much for your perfect, unblemished skin.” It was his way of breaking the tension.

You forced a tight smile, but it faded fast. You looked over at Levi. To anyone else, he would’ve looked unreadable, but you knew him now.

You saw the guilt in the set of his jaw. The slight clench in his hand. The way he couldn’t look at you for too long. He was upset.

You swallowed and shifted upright. “I need to talk to all of you.”

Isabel stopped mid-rant. Furlan blinked. Levi stood beside the wall, arms crossed, silent.

You looked at each of them. “Please. Just… let me finish before you say anything… please.”

Furlan nodded. Isabel sat down in the chair beside you, eyes wide but focused.

“There’s no easy way to do this so I’m just gonna come out with it.” You folded your hands in your lap and took a breath. “I’m from the surface. Mitras, right above us, to be exact.”

Silence. You pushed forward.

“I originally came down here looking for someone. For a people. The Kuremi.”

You glanced at Levi—his eyes didn’t leave you now. He was taking it all in.

“I read the name in my father’s memoirs. He was an engineer for the Royal Government for many years. Esteemed. Respected… but he was also a liar. An adulterer. And a kidnapper.”

You swallowed again. Your voice started to shake.

“He stole my mother—my biological mother, from the underground. She was part of the Kuremi—these people no one remembers. No one speaks of. My father dragged her to the surface using a service tunnel that he dug himself. It’s hidden inside a pillar that leads to a small home on the north side. That’s how I get in and out… But this woman he stole—my mother. He called her his secret. When her belly got round, he knew she wasn’t carrying his child.”

You let that hang. Your fingers twisted together, wringing at the edge of your dress.

“She died. Along with his wife—my presumed mother on the surface. They both gave birth on the same day, and he kept me. The illegitimate one. The wrong one. The one whose skin was called a disease. But recently there was a lead about a girl who may look like me down here. Someone that may have gotten mixed up in this trafficking ring. So I threw myself in it—and yeah, some men may have hurt me along the way, but I’m desperate for answers.”

You looked up at Isabel. Then Furlan. Then Levi. You wondered if they were judging you. You couldn’t blame them if they were.

“My whole life I’ve been told I was defective. Wrong. My hair, my skin, my body—wrong. The only reason I’ve been able to stay down here so long is because the people up there? They don’t care if I disappear. Not even my family—especially my family.”

Your eyes burned. The tears fell—slow, deliberate, no shaking. Just pain.

“My brother hasn’t seen me in months. My sister doesn’t understand me in the least. I have two Military Police officers assigned to follow me everywhere except in my own shop. I’m watched. Like I’m a walking virus. I have a shop. I have money. I have an estate that will be placed in my name… but believe me when I tell you that I have no one, and that hurts more than anything.”

You looked at Levi then. Your voice cracked.

“So when I ask you to stop throwing yourself into this bullshit—when I ask you to stop getting hurt—it’s not because I don’t want answers. It’s because if I lose you—if I lose any of you—I’ll have nothing… Less than nothing. I’ll lose a piece of myself that won’t ever grow back.”

Silence…

“I lied.” Your voice was stern but shaky. “I told you I was from the underground. I should’ve been honest, and if you can’t trust me anymore, I understand. If you want me to leave… I won’t argue, but I will never stop trying to gain your favor back..”

The room stayed still for a long, breathless moment.

“Uh…” Isabel blinked. “I knew you were from the surface already.”

Your head snapped up.

She shrugged. “It was like the first thing I even said. You dress all fancy and smell like soap. Duh.”

Furlan gave a small chuckle. “It’s pretty obvious. You’re a lot different. Even if you dressed like us, you still have this thing about you that’s not like the people down here.”

You stared at them, stunned. “You… you both knew?”

“We made an educated guess.” Isabel clarified. “But we didn’t care.”

Levi shifted. You looked at him. He met your gaze, his eyes darker than usual. He didn’t move toward you. Didn’t say anything for a beat. The information he latched onto was not about you being from the surface. He already knew that.

He finally spoke, “We have to close the book on this.”

Your breath caught. “Levi—”

“The Kuremi. The past. It’s a wound that’s never gonna stop bleeding unless we end it now.”

Furlan nodded slowly. “He’s right. Sometimes… you gotta stop digging before you bury yourself with it.”

“This isn’t your burden.” You looked around at each person. “I couldn’t possibly-

“Then let’s get answers. The right way.” Isabel crossed her arms. “Not with you sneaking off or Levi trying to kill everyone. Together.”

You looked at them. Your family. Your hands trembled.

You turned back to Levi. He stared at you for a long time. His voice, when it came, was rough.

“Let’s suit up.”

Everyone moved quickly after those words were spoken. It was like everyone was on the same page and just wanted to find these answers for you. Not just for revenge, but for your peace of mind. 

As they all got ready, you briefed them on the location of the people, or rather, the person you were looking for. The location and area.

Isabel was first to suit up—straps cinched tight, knives checked twice, that wild, firestarter look in her eye. Furlan followed, more methodical, more measured, checking the gas gauges. Levi? Ready and silent, like he’d been waiting for this reckoning for a while now.

You stood just outside the circle, arms crossed. It was starting to become apparent to you that all three ODM gear were in use, and you didn’t have one.

“…So what? I’m just not going?”

Furlan glanced over. “Things are gonna get dangerous.”

You didn’t blink. “They already are.” 

Levi looked at you with those half lidded eyes, “You need to stay here.”

“You can fly off without me if you want, but I’m going. This is my family. This is my trauma. You aren’t just going to dig up my family dirt while I’m not there. I’m not sitting this out.”

The weight of your words silenced the air for a moment. Then Levi turned on and walked toward the archway. Not a word.

Isabel snickered, “Seriously, just kiss already. You two are pissing everyone off.”

Furlan sighed, but his face held a small smile.”Everyone?”

The ginger nodded, walking down the stairs, “You. Me. Themselves. Everyone!”

You followed them outside and down the stairs. Yeah you weren’t going to be left behind, and you damn sure weren’t going to acknowledge Isabel’s words. 

The three of them lined up—hook lines ready, and you moved up behind Levi.

Your hand grabbed his shoulder. “Levi. Really?”

He turned, sharp. His eyes met yours—dark, but you didn’t flinch.

“What?” He spoke low.

“What am I supposed to do?” You asked. “Just run behind you?”

He stared at you. He knew you too well at this point, and perhaps by telling you to stay he was just testing your convictions. 

His eyes sized you up just briefly, “What are you waiting for?”

You gasped—just slightly. Caught off guard. His voice, his face—it wasn’t angry. It wasn’t mocking. It was like he’d already decided.

Your brow furrowed. “You want me to—what? Climb on your back?”

“Or you can stay here.”

“No. I don’t like those options.” You pouted.

“Stop being a brat. Just get on.”

You scoffed, “My back being exposed feels weird.”

He blinked. “Your back is exposed right now.”

“An open back dress is different!!” You snapped. “I just mean it’s a vulnerable position, alright? Who is gonna watch my back while I’m watching your back, you know? It makes no logical sense. I don’t like it.”

The two of you paused, deadlocked in one another’s gaze.

“Are you done?” Levi’s voice was flat.

Then, without warning, he grabbed your waist, lifted you up, and adjusted your body until your thighs locked around his hips and your arms wrapped instinctively around his neck.

“There. Now don’t move.” Then, without missing a beat, he launches the hookline.

You’d used ODM gear before—brutally so. Training sessions that left your arms numb, your legs burning, your body screaming. You knew how to turn, how to slow, how to roll with a bad angle.

But this? This was different. You were flying with Levi. His body moved like it had wings, each pivot smooth, violent, perfect, and all you had to do was hold on. No wonder you were good with the ODM gear now. You learned from the best.

One arm locked around you with his calloused hands pressed firmly on your bare lower back. His grip unforgiving but secure. The cold of his vest pressed to your chest, the wind whipped past your ears, and your heart was pounding so loud you were certain he could feel it against his own.

You leaned back slightly, just enough to look at him.

His jaw was clenched, eyes locked on the shadows ahead. So serious.

You smiled. Small. Uncontrolled.

He caught it. “What?”

You shrugged, voice breathless. “It just… reminds me of when we first met.”

He didn’t answer.

You leaned in again, your hand placed over his chest. “Though your heart wasn’t racing this much back then.”

His jaw ticked. Just slightly. He knew you were right. Maybe it wasn’t racing that fast back then… or maybe it was and you just didn’t notice. 

You settled back into him, cheek pressed to his shoulder. The world moved fast beneath, but up—here, locked against him… you felt untouchable.

You glanced to your left—Isabel was grinning like a fox, looping through the alley with impossible speed.

To your right—Furlan’s face was focused, sharp, but when your eyes met, he gave you a subtle nod. It was almost as if to say this is where you’re meant to be.

Levi shifted, launching both of you higher through a split in the beams. You tightened your grip around him. He didn’t flinch. If anything, he held you tighter.

Below, the underground yawned wider. You’d never forget the area you were in, but it truly looked much different from way up here.

You were going deeper than you’d ever dared. Past the noise. Past the vendors. Past the salvage yards and smuggling tunnels.

Into the dark. Where the Kuremi might’ve once breathed. Where the truth lived. Even though fear stirred in your chest, you felt safe. Not because of the blades. Not because of the others.

Because Levi hadn’t let go. In his arms is where you felt safest, even in an underground dump like this.

The four of you began to descend, and as you did, the miserable air came back all at once. 

It wasn't just the air that grew heavier. It was the hope. The absence of it. People who lived down here were certain they’d die down here. In this part, however, they knew they’d die down here, and they wanted to take as many others with them.

You directed them with your voice—steady but soft. “Just past the building with the black door. The place isn’t marked, but I remember the archway above the door.”

When you landed, you braced yourself, clutching Levi a little tighter. Wasn’t truly necessary. He was smooth on his feet.

Levi didn’t let go of you right away. His hands stayed firm on your waist, keeping you grounded for just a moment longer.

“Stay close to me.” His voice came in low and sharp.

“I know—” You gave a soft nod.

“No.” His grip tightened slightly. “Stay behind me. You might’ve been over here, but that doesn’t mean you know it. This is no place for you. The only reason I didn’t argue with you about coming is because I know you’ll stop throwing yourself into these ridiculous situations once we’re done here.”

You watched his eyes and there wasn’t a hint of humor or jest. Of course Levi was a serious person to begin with, but of all the things he didn’t mess around about, your safety was not to be played with the most.

You could see it in his eyes. He was furious. You hadn’t seen him this way before even though he kept it contained. He wasn’t just here for answers. He was here to bury something.

“Don’t run ahead.” He added. “Don’t try to be a hero. This isn’t just about you anymore.”

Your hands lifted and pressed over his, where they still held your waist. You searched his expression, but it didn’t shift.

“Are you gonna be alright?” You asked softly—almost more worried about him than yourself.

He’d repeat himself, “Stay behind me.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to argue, so instead you’d nod. “Okay.”

Isabel and Furlan exchanged a glance as they approached, and then the four of you moved toward the building—silent, trained, and ready.

The stone beneath your boots was fractured, pieces of broken pipe jutted like rusted bones from the ground. The place smelled of wet brick, mildew, and something metallic. Possibly blood.

This wasn’t like the other parts. No petty thieves. No rickety market stands. No graffiti. Just silence.

Furlan crept ahead first, and he motioned for the rest of you to freeze. Slowly he rose to peek through the dirty, shattered side window.

“…It’s empty.” He spoke confused.

“What?” You stepped forward.

Furlan didn’t move. “No one’s inside. Nothing’s inside.”

Isabel made a face. “Like… they packed up and left?”

Furlan glanced back. “Are you sure this is the place you were at?”

You stared at the jagged archway over the door. The chipped brick. The iron bar lock half-rusted and broken from the outside.

You knew this building like you knew the layout of your shop. You were only here just the one time, but you couldn’t possibly forget.

“I’m sure.” Your voice was low. “I was held in a cage. With a handful of others. There were men watching us. The floors were soaked with alcohol maybe, and blood. This is it. This is the place.”

Levi moved forward first this time. He put a hand on your arm as he passed—short, firm—then gestured for Isabel and Furlan to flank the back while he kicked open the door.

Dust exploded into the air. The room opened up—a massive hollow space. Wooden floor, metal beam, empty crates… No chains. No cages. No men. Nothing.

Levi stepped forward, slow, cautious. His blade was clenched tightly in his hand as the four of you entered.

“Maybe they moved?” Isabel tilted her head.

“No.” You whispered. “They wouldn’t just move. This is the underground we’re talking about. There’s nowhere else to g—. ”

Just as you began to move again, you stopped right away. You could hear something. A faint sound. It was so faint you thought you may be imagining it. It sounds like—whimpering?

You turned your head. There—again. Behind the left wall. “They’re here.”

Levi looked to you, then he nodded once and gestured toward the far side. The four of you moved—quiet, fast, close to the ground. Furlan reached the wall first, brushing his fingers against the stone.

“It’s hollow.” Furlan’s eyes widened, shocked.

He found the seam. A thin door, expertly hidden, flush with the wall.

Levi didn’t wait. He slammed the edge of his boot into the seam and ripped it open.

What lay behind it wasn’t a room. It was a tunnel. The four of you stared down into the dark.

“I’m going first,” Levi spoke absolute and no one would argue.

Just as he said, you stayed right behind him. Isabel on your left, and Furlan behind you. It was hard not to feel safe under these circumstances.

The tunnel was narrower than expected, but it wasn’t deep, though there was a drop in temperature. You could hear the whimpering louder now—choked sobs, a cough, the shuffle of chains. The smallest, faintest flicker of light began to show.

As you moved forward, the air shifted. Got tighter, and then you saw it.

A hidden chamber. A very dim torch of light hung on the wall. Inside, were people. Dozens of filthy, scared, women and girls. Some barely conscious. Others wide-eyed. You heard Isabel gasp and saw Furlan clench his fists so tight his nails must’ve broken skin.

You stepped forward, but Levi grabbed your arm again.

“I said behind me.” His voice was tight.

You opened your mouth to argue—but then you saw his eyes again. No room for debate.

This wasn’t Levi the sparring partner. This was Levi the executioner. The man who’d been searching relentlessly so he could set fire to the world that had touched you.

The girls and women were bound to the walls and floor. Stuck. An underground even underground. It was sickening.

There were at least twenty of them. One of them started to cry as soon as she saw the four of you. Another pulled a younger girl closer to her chest.

Your rage began to boil over, and you couldn’t stop it. Was this where you were held before you were put in that cage? When you were passed out? You had to wonder what other things were done while you were out—now wasn’t the time.

You came looking for the man with the scar, and instead, you found that dear old trafficking ring. Here you thought this couldn’t have been it, but seeing how they were tagged for various districts—yeah, this was the one. 

Had you known that filthy man was in fact a part of the trafficking ring back then, you’d have slit his throat then and there. Then again, you did unsuccessfully charge him. 

Clearly there were different factions to this and the net was cast much wider than you originally thought.

You stepped carefully toward the women. “It’s okay.” You whispered gently. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

One girl—young, maybe seventeen or eighteen—nodded numbly. Her hair was matted, eyes bloodshot. She looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks. Another girl didn’t even acknowledge your presence.

But then there was another one—off in the corner, her knees tucked to her chest—was staring at you. Eyes wide. 

As you stepped closer she opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her gaze flicked—left, further down the tunnel. Then again… and again. Almost like a warning.

“Levi—” you turned to speak, but it was already happening.

Boots hit the floor. Two groups of men, fully armed surrounded you now. It happened so fast, it was like they were already there.

Isabel’s eyes went wide. Furlan already had a blade drawn. Levi moved in front of you instantly, hand on his hilt, body a shield.

Before anyone could make a move… he walked in.

The man with the scar. Same one you remembered clear as day. His voice was like oil poured over an open fire, his eyes cold and distant.

He grinned. “Well, well.” His voice bounced off the narrow stone tunnel. “Didn’t think you’d come back.”

You blinked. “Me?”

“Of course you.” He gestured casually. “Daddy’s favorite cost a pretty penny. Then you ran off. Figures.” He looked you over. “You were supposed to be a working woman by now. Bet ol’ Matthias doesn’t know you’re down here, does he?”

Your stomach twisted and you went still. “…You know me?”

He laughed. A horrible, hollow laugh. “Of course I know you.” He pulled out a thin, jagged blade from his coat. “Who do you think sold off that gutter-rat mother of yours to the sniveling worm you call a father?”

Your breath caught, “What?”

He took a step forward. “She was just another piece of merchandise before he showed up. Her husband used all of his money to visit her every day. Even at the cost of his own health. Then Matthias came down and—well, he had a lot more money… enough to buy a woman and leave her husband as a husk of man. Never knew what he saw in the ugly bitch. All she ever did was cry.”

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t cry in front of him. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction. The way he talked so vile about your mother. The harsh reality of how your adoptive father left your biological one in shambles. The rotten underbelly of this place, and all of the dirty secrets intertwined with the Greville name… it hurt to hear, but you couldn’t shed a tear. Not one.

“No one gives a fuck about your villain monologue.” Levi’s eyes were locked tight on him. “You crossed her, so you gotta answer to me, and I’m done talking.”

His eyes gleamed as he continued. “I know why you left your cushy life in Mitras to come down here, and I know exactly what you’re looking for. You wanna know about the Kuremi? You wanna know where they came from? I could tell you everything… but it’s more poetic, if you die without ever knowing.”

There was a pause, and then he gave a nod to his men. They charged. Fifteen, maybe twenty. Steel drawn. Voices shouting.

Levi moved first. His blade flashed so fast you nearly missed the damage it dealt. The first man didn’t even scream before his throat opened and sprayed across the wall.

You moved to draw your blade, but Levi caught your wrist—just for a moment—his eyes locking onto yours. “You stay back.”

Furlan was already diving into the fray, fighting smart, cutting tendons and dodging wild swings with practiced precision. Isabel was pure chaos—spinning, snarling, flipping between bodies.

You remembered everything Levi taught you. You moved fast, kept your center low, used your speed, your instinct. Your dress whipped with every turn, the slit high enough to allow you movement, though it still caught on splinters and grime.

You landed your first hit—a clean slash across a man's arm. Another came at you, and you dodged—barely—knocking him into a pile of crates.

Soon you noticed that the scarred man had vanished somewhere in all of the chaos. 

“Coward!” you screamed, ducking another swing.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed your arm and yanked you violently. Your eyes snapped up, and Levi saw it.

The change in him was instant. He cut over to you in quick strides, and ripped the man off you with his knife driving deep into the man’s throat. There was no hesitation. No warning.

Levi wasn’t fighting to incapacitate. He was fighting to kill. He held this in long enough, and finally his anger was directed at the right people. The people who were directly involved in hurting you. Driving you to do something so stupid and dangerous and potentially losing your life. 

His knife slashed high and low. He didn’t miss, and with it came the sound of choking and dropping bodies. You were splattered with blood, eyes wide, heart hammering. This was the first time you’d ever seen carnage like this. It was terrifying. 

Another came at him—Levi ducked, pivoted, and slammed his boot into the man’s knee so hard the snap echoed. He finished him with a clean slice to the gut, then turned back to you.

“Stay behind me.” He reiterated—face dark with fury.

“Levi, I need to find him—”

“He won’t leave alive.”

Levi moved fast, like death incarnate, every motion honed and brutal. He didn’t dodge; he dominated. Each man that got in his path met the wall or the floor courtesy of his blade.

You couldn’t just stand here. You had to find this man. You had to! The scarred man knew too much. He sold your mother. He knew your father Matthias, and your biological father. He was the key to everything you didn’t understand, and he had disappeared into the dark.

You gripped your blade tighter, chest burning. You were going to find him, and this time you weren’t a girl fresh from a cage. You were a weapon.

Bodies continued dropping like discarded dolls—men screaming, metal clashing, the whistle of blades slicing air, thuds of boots and bone. 

You pushed through the crowd, heart in your throat, vision narrowing. As you made your way forward, you saw the slit necks of the women. It was like he knew it was over. He knew this whole operation was on fire, and he wanted to take down as much as he could before it was done.

Never had you seen anything like it. Like today. All you’d ever known was fake galas and beaded dresses. Lying in the sunshine and eating the finest food prepared by your father’s personal chef… yeah, you were a long way from home. 

The scarred man was still here. You knew it. You could feel him. Like his very presence was physically with you.

You pressed on and swiftly dodged a blade. Swung back. Your dress was torn, your thigh bleeding again, but you barely registered it. Your breath was fast. You were hunting now.

A blur on your left—Furlan, slamming his elbow into a man’s temple.

Another flash—Isabel flipping over a crate, her boots hitting the ground like thunder.

Then—a hand on your waist. You twisted, ready to strike, but it was too late.

Pain lanced through you like a thread of fire. Or was it ice? You couldn’t tell. It was quite unfamiliar.

It sank deep, right between your ribs. A heat you couldn’t understand flared in your belly, and your breath hitched as your eyes widened.

Your hand flew to the source and closed around the hilt of a knife. A man stood beforeyou. The scarred man.

He leaned in close—his breath sour, his voice soft. “Just one more loose end to tie up in Shiganshina.” He whispered, “...and then every ember from that little tribe your father was so pathetically obsessed with? Gone. Just like you.”

Your nails dug into his arm, your grip going tight, but you could feel your legs weakening. The pain hadn't hit yet. Just the cold.

You gasped. Blood bubbled in your mouth, and your knees buckled.

The knife slid out. Slow. Too smooth. Too deliberate, like he was sharpening it against your bones.

You staggered backward—your hands covered in deep crimson. You couldn’t catch your breath. The taste of iron filled your throat, dripping down your chin, staining your dress.

You looked up—vision spinning. Just as you blinked, you saw it. A slice so clean, so perfect, so brutal. 

The man’s head detached from his body mid-smirk—his mouth still curved, his eyes still smug—before it thudded hard to the floor, rolling once, twice. The body stayed standing for a breath longer before it dropped.

In his place—Levi. His face was hellfire Eyes wild. Jaw clenched. Shoulders heaving. Blood smeared across his face and shirt—but none of it was his own.

You wanted to speak. Say something sharp. Something stupid, but your knees gave out.

Levi caught you fast and eased you down onto the ground. He put his hand over your wound to keep it from bleeding out even more.

“Hey—hey,” He barked, voice too tight. “Look at me.”

You blinked up at him, lashes sticky with blood. Your mouth moved. No sound came.

“You don’t get to do this! You hear me?!” He yelled. Your warm blood soaked his palms, his sleeves, your dress.

“Furlan!” Levi yelled, “Wrap this up! Now!”

You heard footsteps. Shouting. A sob, but your eyes were heavy. It wouldn’t hurt to close them for a little bit, right?

“Don’t—” Levi’s voice cracked as he shook you back awake. “Don’t you dare.”

You tried to smile. Your lips barely moved.

Damn… now’s no time to rest…

You couldn’t see much anymore. Just shadow. Light. Blood where it shouldn’t be. You could hear it all though. Levi pulled away from you as there was a bit more that needed to be finished.

The sound of Levi’s blade. It was fast, brutal, efficient—cutting through bodies like cloth. The wet sound of impact. The dull thud of limbs. A scream cut off mid-breath.

“Isabel! Stay with her!” Levi demanded. “Keep pressure on that wound, and keep her talking! Don’t let her sleep!”

You felt hands on your side again, shaking, pressing hard on the wound.

“Hey—hey—no no no, don’t close your eyes—don’t you close your eyes!” Isabel spoke frantically. 

Her voice cracked as she spoke, and her hands were trembling. You could feel it in how uneven the pressure was, how the cloth she pressed into your abdomen soaked through in seconds.

“Stay with me, okay? Just—just talk to me. This isn’t a place to sleep. I’m sure on the surface they have way nicer places, right? Don’t you wanna sleep there? W-well you can’t if you fall asleep here. S-so ya gotta stay up.”

Your mouth opened to speak, but only blood came out.. The words slurred like your body had forgotten how to form sound.

“You read…” you coughed, choked, swallowed. “You read me right… f-first time… definitely from the surface.”

Isabel let out a sob-laugh, shaking her head. “I knew it. I knew you weren’t from down here. You’re way too clean. Way too beautiful and delicate… So talk to me.” She begged. “Tell me about your shop. Your dresses. I just wanna hear you… I know I haven’t known you very long, but I just connected with you right away and—”

Your lips parted again. “I… I was… close.”

“Huh?”

Your vision blurred. “So close… to knowing…” You coughed. Your throat felt thick. “So close…”

Isabel was sobbing now, her words rushed and panicked. “No, no, you’re not done yet. You don’t get to quit here.”

You really wanted to give up. It was starting to hurt now. It was painful, and you were tired. But then… you felt the necklace shift at your throat—the one Erwin had sent. Water droplet pendant. Clarity. Stillness. You deserved both.

You lifted a blood-slick hand to it. “Can’t… can’t die here. I still… still have to write back…”

“Write what?” Isabel asked, her hands pressing harder.

You smiled faintly. “He needs to know… I’m okay.”

“Who?”

You didn’t answer directly—just smiled., “He’s waiting…”

Another body hit the floor. Then another, and another until the room was totally silent.

No more crying. No more screaming. No more gasping for breath. The only ones alive were the four of you, and you weren’t sure it’d be four on the way out.

All you could hear now was Levi’s footsteps. Fast. Determined. Grounded like thunder.

He dropped to his knees beside you. “Give her to me.”

Isabel didn’t hesitate. Just moved back, hands shaking, face streaked with tears.

Levi pulled you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest, one hand braced behind your head, the other gripping your waist.

“Hey.” His voice broke in a way that made your heart clench. ”I told you to stay behind me.”

You blinked at him, slow. Everything was slow now. You reached up, fingers dragging across his cheek—meant to wipe the blood off his face, but your hand was soaked, so all you did was smear it further.

You tried to laugh. It came out strained. “You need…a haircut.”

“You gonna give me one?”

You blinked again. Slower. The darkness at the edges was starting to hum. You tried to say something else. Something light, but all that came out was a long breath and a soft, cracked sigh.

“Don’t…” He whispered. “Don’t do this to me.”

Levi’s arms tightened around you. Maybe somewhere in that stillness, when your eyes fluttered shut, and your body slumped in his arms—the others turned away to give him that moment.

Maybe he leaned in just for a second. 

Perhaps it was real, or maybe just a dream… but something warm touched your lips, and something heavy lingered in the air.

There was so much left to do. So many loose ends still untied. Was the world so cruel that they’d remain that way? Or were you perhaps too stubborn to accept this as your final reality?

[softcursechoso]

Somewhere, We Do: Ch. 8

JJK x Reader Nanami x Reader

Masterlist

MDNI! // 18+ // NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS!

Ch. 8 Warnings: More sexy time! Yayy! Pretty short though. Semi public sex, little bit of smooching, little bit of oral sex (f) receiving

Words: 9k+

MY GRAVITY

Yozora Planetarium : 8:15pm : Shibuya

Nanami's car hummed gently beneath you, a steady purr matched only by the rhythm of the city outside. His hand was firm and warm where it rested on your thigh, thumb absently stroking small circles into your stockings. The other hand gripped the wheel in that calm, precise way of his. Of course he drove like that. Like he was always in control, but never stiff. Smooth. Assured.

You’d taken a short detour back to his place after work. It had become something of a ritual, now that your toothbrush lived in a cup beside his. Now that your shoes had started gathering by his front door. You weren’t living together—but your presence was speckled. Folded inside his drawers. Hanging next to his coats. Pressed into the scent of his shower steam. 

He never said anything about it. Never had to. The way he folded your sweaters and put them in his drawers said how he felt about your belongings.

Tonight, you’d both left the office right on the dot. Screw emails. Screw your bosses. This was your night, even if it had to begin with sore feet and tired shoulders. You showered together at his apartment to wash the day off. Nothing sexual—just warmth, soft soap, fingers combing through hair. A kind of intimacy that felt easy.

Now, here you were. His jacket wrapped around your shoulders, just big enough to make you feel small. You were dressed simple but sweet—soft gray knit sweater hanging loosely over a black skirt that swayed when you walked, sheer black stockings, your favorite boots. Minimal makeup. Lips slightly tinted. Skin still dewy from moisturizer. You felt clean. That was the word. Like you’d rinsed off the entire day and stepped into something quiet and lovely.

It was Valentine’s Day, and you both agreed that you wouldn’t do anything special. No gifts. Just be in each other’s presence. Last minute you decided it’d be a good idea to go to the planetarium, and he agreed. Something inexpensive. Something that was quality time.

You traced your fingers along his forearm where it rested on the center console, watching the way the muscles flexed subtly beneath his button-up sleeve. It made you smile. Made your stomach warm.

"I love you.” You spoke almost absentmindedly.

No drama. No fanfare. It wasn't the first time, but there was something pure in the way it escaped you. Like it had been sitting in your chest all evening.

Nanami glanced at you, and the faint smile that spread across his face wasn't the usual one. It wasn't that polite, public expression he wore at work.  It was something tender.

"I love you too.” He squeezed your thigh just slightly.

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, breathing in the clean scent of his cologne and fabric softener. That scent was starting to feel like home.

The lights grew larger ahead, glowing softly against the night sky. You could already see the outline of the planetarium’s domed roof peeking out behind a tall cluster of buildings. He eased into the underground parking, guiding the car into a spot.

You both stepped out of the car—Nanami getting your door of course. The winter air was cool against your skin, but the warmth from his jacket kept the chill at bay. He took your hand in his as you made your way toward the elevators.

You stepped in and looked at your reflection in the mirrored wall—his broad frame standing close beside you, your body leaning into him without thinking. You smiled at yourselves.

He looked at you like you were more beautiful than the stars themselves.

The minute the elevator doors parted, the two of you stepped into the planetarium lobby.

You looked up at him, eyes narrowed playfully. “Are you sure you didn’t plan anything, Kento?”

He tilted his head at you, expression unreadable, but the corner of his mouth lifted just enough. “You insisted you wanted to keep things simple.”

You smirked. “Mhm. Okayyy.”

He didn’t take the bait. Just gave your hand another quiet squeeze as you passed through the final doors and into the planetarium itself.

The air changed instantly.

Everything was darker in here—bathed in that gentle midnight blue light that made your clothes feel softer, your voice feel quieter. The dome overhead stretched impossibly wide, like you were stepping into the sky itself. Overhead, thousands of tiny pinpricks of light scattered across the ceiling, slow and steady in their movement, mimicking the real night sky beyond the building’s glass bones.

The room wasn’t crowded, not at this hour. A few tired couples sat slumped against each other in the plush, reclining chairs. One family with a kid already fast asleep. A young woman sketching constellations on a notepad.

You and Nanami checked in with the sleepy attendant, exchanged your digital passes for paper stubs—a quaint touch—and walked in toward the viewing area.

It was so quiet. So vast. You felt small. Not in a bad way. Just… like you were one thing in a world of many.

You paused near the back of the room, staring up at the rotating dome, and leaned gently into Nanami’s side.

“Kind of makes you feel like… none of this matters, huh?” You spoke softly. “Like we’re just… little specs on a rock that’s floating through black space.”

He glanced down at you. You didn’t realize how long he studied your face until he answered.

“Maybe, but you take up a lot of space in my world.”

You blinked. Looked up at him. Really looked.

His face was calm, sure. But his eyes? They burned. Not with intensity, No, this was something quieter. Deeper. A warmth he reserved only for you.

You leaned your head against his shoulder and let your body rest there a moment. “…That was a good line. I’m stealing that.”

“Right?” He smiled.

You explored the exhibit area a little before the dome show began. The building was filled with soft-glowing displays—rotating models of the solar system, interactive constellation maps, a suspended meteorite fragment under glass. A row of telescopes faced out through the observation windows, looking down at Tokyo’s twinkling skyline.

You made your way to one, slowly peering into it.

“Oh wow,” you murmured.

“What is it?”

“The moon.” You adjusted the lens. “It’s just… right there. So clear.”

Nanami stood beside you with his hands in his coat pockets now.

“Come.” You began motioning. “Take a look.”

He leaned down, adjusted the scope slightly, and gave a quiet hum.

“I always forget how close it looks through these.” You rested your chin on the telescope mount, watching him.

“…I meant to ask. Did you get Gojo’s invite?” He asked, suddenly.

You blinked. “Invite for what?”

He turned to you, brows creased in surprise. “To the Jujutsu High reunion. It’s in May.”

“Oh.” You looked back into the scope, focusing on the curve of the moon’s edge. “No, I didn’t get anything.”

Nanami was quiet a beat. “Huh. Strange. I assumed you’d be the first one he’d hound.”

You scoffed, adjusting the focus ring again. “Well now I’m offended.”

“Don’t be. You’ll be my plus one then.”

Still, your tone shifted as you spoke. “I don’t know. Showing up to something like that… it’d feel like throwing my hat back in the ring. Like telling everyone I’m back.”

He studied your expression in the dark. “I know what you mean.”

You turned slowly. “No.” You spoke gently. “You don’t.”

He went still. Listening intently now.

“I’m not saying that to be rude,” you added quickly, reaching for his hand. “It’s just… you didn’t know me then. Or what it was like. The attention. The way people treated me—either like a weapon or a prize. The fact that you didn’t know my history when we met? That was the most refreshing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Nanami didn’t pull away. He just held your hand a little tighter. “I’m glad I met you as you.” Then after a pause, his voice dropped. “By the time you were in school… I was gone.”

You looked up. His expression had changed. Not distant. Not closed-off. Just… quieter.

“I had been struggling with the loss of a friend from my second year.” His eyes focused somewhere far away. “His name was Haibara Yu. We were close. He was one of those people who made everything lighter. Even when we were fighting for our lives. He’d find a joke in anything. Smile like nothing could touch him.”

You stayed still. Not interrupting. Just listening.

“One day, we went on a mission. Routine, supposedly.” He exhaled slowly. “It wasn’t. He died… and I didn’t.”

The silence stretched between you. The stars overhead kept turning.

“I don’t talk about him often. Not because I’ve forgotten. Just… some things sit better when they’re quiet.”

You looked at him, your heart clenched with something deeper than sympathy.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered.

He nodded, once. “Thank you.”

You reached up and cupped his face, thumb brushing the nearly non existent stubble at his jaw. He closed his eyes at the touch.

“…He would’ve liked you.” Nanami smiled softly.

You smiled. “Yeah? Then he had great taste.”

“Yeah, he did.”

The weight of the conversation followed you both into the next room. This part of the planetarium was simple—soft gray walls, white ceiling lights dimmed to a gentle hue, and a row of sleek, metallic gravity simulation scales, each labeled with a different planet from the solar system. 

Most of the guests had already trickled into the dome theater, so it was just you and Nanami now. Alone among the orbs and numbers. Just the quiet hum of the display equipment and your boots gently clicking against the polished floor.

You stepped up onto the first scale—Mercury, and laughed as the screen flickered to life.

"God, look how light I’d be on Mercury.” You looked over at Nanami with a grin. "At this weight, you could toss me around without breaking a sweat."

Nanami tilted his head, standing a few paces behind you, arms crossed casually across his chest. "I could do that now.”

You froze.”Excuse me?”

His gaze didn’t shift, “Unless of course you wanted me to break a sweat.”

You gasped, scandalized. "Kento!"

He raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “Just stating a fact.”

"Okay but like…" You stepped down from Mercury, cheeks burning and stomach tight from trying not to giggle, "...that was actually really hot."

"Is that surprise I hear?" Damn he was teasing tonight.

You swatted his arm as you passed him, heading toward the next planet; Venus.

“You know…” He followed you slowly, his tone shifting as if he was mulling an idea over in his head. “If you’re not going to the reunion, then I’m definitely not going.”

You stepped onto Venus. Eyed the number and laughed a little. Just a bit lighter but not by too much.

"You should go.” You smiled softly. “I feel like it’d be a lot of fun. Though it is strange having a reunion without a specified year. Just class of whenever the fuck you graduated? Come on Gojo."

He frowned slightly. "No, seriously. If you’re not going, I don’t see the point."

You shrugged. "It’s probably just a reunion for the Tokyo campus, anyway."

"Kaya’s on the thread."

You spun to face him. "Wait—WHAT?"

He looked entirely unbothered, hands in his pockets. "She’s in the group chat. I saw her name."

"She never told me that! What gives?!" You laughed, slightly amused… slightly betrayed. 

"She probably didn’t want to bother you about it. Every time the jujutsu world gets mentioned you tense up."

You narrowed your eyes. He was absolutely right.

You stepped onto Earth, your actual weight now displayed on the screen in front of you. It grounded you more than you expected.

Nanami moved a little closer beside you. "Maybe you didn’t get an invite because Gojo doesn’t know you’re alumni."

You stared at the weight. Then at your feet. "I don’t know…” There was a small silence. Not awkward. Just thoughtful. "Who else is in the group chat?" 

He ticked off a few names. "The principals from each campus. Utahime, obviously. Some faculty. A handful of recent graduates from the Tokyo school."

"Did anyone RSVP yet?"

"Not officially."

You stepped off Earth and made your way to Mars, the weight number dipping again.

"I’ll admit it’s tempting."

He nodded. "You don’t have to remove your seal to go. You can show up exactly as you are."

You looked at him. His voice was gentle, but his eyes were unwavering. Steady.

"I don’t know—it would be weird, wouldn’t it?."

"Not at all." 

You moved to Jupiter and gasped. The number jumped so dramatically you laughed. "Damn. I would not survive on this planet."

"You’d adapt."

"Only if you carried me everywhere."

He didn’t say anything, just gave you that small, dangerous smile that told you he would. Without question.

You looked back at the numbers again. "But you know people would ask questions. If I showed up. The ones who don’t know me would start digging, and the ones who do would start talking." You stepped down. Walked to Saturn. "That’s what I’m trying to avoid. I’d rather just go on like this. Quiet. Simple."

You stood on the Saturn scale, your weight shifting slightly. You didn’t look at the number this time.

Nanami’s voice was soft. "You always say that if you remove your seal there will be curses and sorcerers showing up in an instant. Is it sorcerers or just one in particular?"

You flinched—just a little. He saw it. You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you moved quickly to Uranus.

"...Umm. There would be multiple.” You step onto the scale. "There’s definitely one that takes the cake though."

You didn’t turn around. Just stood there, watching the number tick on the display before moving over to Neptune.

"It’s not a conversation for Valentine’s Day.” You nod gently, turning your face toward him. "But... I’ll tell you. Another time."

He nodded once, respectfully, but he wasn’t done.

You stepped onto Pluto, the smallest, coldest weight of all. Of course the planetarium had to have a sign up like just so you all know Pluto is a dwarf planet. Everyone knows!

"...Is he the reason you keep yourself hidden?"

The question wasn’t sharp. It was careful and measured. Like he already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from you.

You exhaled, eyes on the low number. "Yeah." You whispered. "He’s definitely a part of it."

Then, without hesitation, Nanami stepped up beside you. Not to pry or argue. Just to stand with you. “You don’t have to fight this alone, you know?”

Pluto may have been small, but with Nanami here you didn’t feel small anymore.

“Thank you.”

He took your hand again and the two of you headed deeper into the exhibit halls. Voices lowered to match the hush of the near-empty space. 

The glowing star maps on the walls cast faint halos around you, and the soft ambient music made everything feel like it moved a little slower. Like time was stretching just for the two of you.

You made your way toward a dim corner labeled Celestial Poses: Planet-Themed Photo Booth, where a row of digital kiosks stood glowing beside a backdrop of the solar system. Giant cardboard cutouts of Saturn’s rings and shooting stars were propped up in a bin.

You grinned, tugging at Nanami’s sleeve. “Kento. Let’s take pictures.”

He looked at the booth. Then at you. “Really?”

“Yes really.” Your eyes were gleaming. “For posterity.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do people really need photos of themselves holding inflatable comets?”

“Yes.” You were already dragging him over. “People like me.”

He didn’t resist. Of course he didn’t. Nanami never really denied you anything—especially not when you were smiling like this.

You picked out a prop—a pair of little red antennae on a headband—and placed them directly on his head.

“This is for eternal photo evidence.” You said sweetly, stepping into the booth and tapping the touch screen. “Say cheese, alien boyfriend.”

He followed you in, ducking slightly to fit under the frame, and sat beside you as the screen flashed a countdown.

“Three… two…”

The first shot captured your face squished against his cheek.

“Two…”

You kissed his jaw dramatically.

“One…”

You stuck your tongue out and threw up a peace sign. He blinked in confusion, utterly expressionless. Oh salaryman Kento Nanami. Wielder of only two facial expressions. 

You were crying laughing by the fourth picture. “Kento, loosen up! You look like you’re applying for a passport.”

“I am relaxed.”

“Blink twice if you’re having fun. I’m gonna show this to my friends. They’re gonna think I’m holding you hostage.”

“I’m where I want to be.”

By the sixth shot, he started to soften. The edges of his mouth curled. You poked his cheek, whispered something dumb, and he actually smiled. The soft one. The kind he only gave you when no one else was around.

Then—on the last frame—you reached up to adjust his collar, tugging a little fuzz off the shoulder of his coat. He tilted his head down instinctively, eyes watching your fingers.

The camera snapped and the picture printed seconds later. In the photo, you’re smiling, just a little, eyes on his jacket. He’s not looking at the camera. He’s looking at you. Like you just caught the sun in your hands and offered it to him.

You stared at the photo when it slid out. “This off guard one might be my favorite.”

He looked down at it over your shoulder. Didn’t say a word, but by the way he kissed your shoulder you could tell he agreed.

The two of you pressed on from there. This was a good idea- a casual Valentine’s Day. Felt like you were building a friendship with your lover.

After looping through the last few exhibits, you found a quiet bench tucked beneath a glowing orrery—slowly spinning metal planets orbiting a golden sun.

You sat close, knees touching. Your head on his shoulder again.

He broke the silence. “Do you ever think about it?”

You tilted your head. “About what?”

“The future.”

You smiled softly. “Sometimes. Do you?”

He nodded. “More than I used to.”

You turned your face toward him. “What’s your five-year plan, Kento?”

He was quiet a moment. “I’d like to be working less. Sleeping more. Maybe out of finance.”

You laughed. “That’s your dream?”

“It’s a start.”

You leaned in. “Ten years?”

He paused longer this time. His hand caressing yours. “I’d like to own a place. Something quiet. Somewhere we could cook dinner together without either of us being too tired to eat.”

Your heart skipped. Did he just say we and us in his ten year plan?

“I’d like to come home to someone who makes the air lighter.” He added, so low you almost missed it. “Someone I don’t have to perform for.”

Your lips parted. “Are you… talking about me?”

He glanced at you, deadpan. “No, I’m talking about Gojo.”

You burst out laughing, and he grinned—a real one—before squeezing your hand.

“Of course I mean you.”

You settled into him again, your voice a little smaller this time. “Is it… is it too soon to talk about forever?”

He was quiet. “No… Not when I’ve already started planning around it.”

Your eyes stung. Just a little. You didn’t say anything for a moment.

Then you looked up at the spinning planets and whispered, “I hope I still get to kiss you in ten years.”

“You will.”

“How do you know?”

He tilted your chin toward him. Pressing his lips against yours, featherlight. “Maybe it’s in the stars.”

You nestled into the curve of his side beneath the quiet spin of the glowing orrery, his arm wrapped snugly around you, palm resting on your hip. The lights were low in the planetarium now. Most guests had either trickled into the main dome or quietly filtered out, leaving the place with that magical, after-hours calm where it felt like Tokyo itself had gone to sleep.

Your head rested against his chest now, rising and falling with each slow breath he took. "Do you think aliens ever have moments like this?" 

Nanami blinked. "Like what, exactly?"

"Like… love, warmth. This weird ache of wanting to be seen, even when you are being seen? Like I know you’re holding me, and you’re here, and I still want more. It’s like I’m greedy even though I have more than enough."

There was a long pause. "That’s a very intense way of expressing affection.”

You laughed against him. "I’m serious though. What if there’s an entire solar system full of emotionally stunted aliens just trying to communicate that they like someone, but all they know how to do is orbit them?"

Nanami chuckled quietly and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. "You’re always like this. You get poetic when you’re nervous."

You stilled. "...Huh."

He glanced down. “Did I say something?”

“No, no, I just—” You blinked. “That triggered a memory.”

As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

[Kaya 🤡]: It’s ready.

Your heart skipped. "Shit."

Nanami looked over, instantly alert. “What happened?”

You shoved your phone away, scrambling upright. “I think I left my wallet outside.”

His brows furrowed. “You never pulled your wallet out.”

“No, I definitely did.” You grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the hallway. “I remember now. It’s outside. Let’s go.”

“You’re not very good at lying,” He spoke almost smugly—letting you pull him along anyway. “And I’m certain we’ve never even been to this floor before.”

“Kento, you’re so cute. That memory of yours is falling apart.”

“It’s not.”

You led him toward a dim hallway with a sign that very clearly read Staff Access Only – Observation Deck Closed to Public.

Nanami stopped. “We’ve definitely never been behind a restricted area.”

You turned back to him, tugged his hand again. “Mmm, I think we have. You just forgot.”

He stared at you, amused. “You’re up to something.”

“Absolutely not.” You gave him your best wide-eyed face as you looked over your shoulder.

He exhaled, exasperated, and followed you anyway. God, he was so soft for you.

You pushed open the balcony door and stepped outside, the cold night air kissing your cheeks with a delicate bite.

There it was. The sky opened up like ink spilled on velvet—deep navy, streaked with the distant flickers of starlight. The balcony, usually empty and cold, had been transformed. The space glowed gently from a cluster of small candles placed inside glass jars. 

A thick wool blanket was spread out with two cushions. In the center, a wicker picnic basket sat waiting, steam still curling from inside it. Plates, two sets of utensils. Dessert in delicate pastry boxes. A folded envelope propped delicately against the basket, his name written in your handwriting.

Nanami stopped dead. His fingers tightened in yours.

You looked at him, smiling. “Surprised?”

He was silent. Not because he didn’t know what to say—but because he physically couldn’t form the words. His jaw flexed. His eyes were a little too shiny.

“Kento?”

Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, tightly. Both arms around your waist, his face buried in your shoulder, like he needed to hold onto you to stay upright.

You let your hands move up his back, your fingers curling into his coat.

After a long moment, he kissed your neck, slow and reverent. Then he pulled back just enough to kiss your lips—soft at first, then deeper, his hand cradling your cheek like you were something fragile he couldn’t believe he got to keep.

“Yes.” He spoke against your lips. “I’m very surprised.”

You whispered against him. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He rested his forehead against yours. “You planned all this?”

You grinned. “Had to pull a lot of strings. I begged Kaya to beg her friend to beg her cousin to beg her boss. It was a whole thing.”

Nanami blinked. “I don’t know what’s more impressive. The picnic or the multi-layered chain of bribery.”

You laughed and pulled him down to sit beside you on the blanket. The candles flickered as the wind skimmed across the rooftop, low and steady, tugging gently at the hem of the blanket and the edges of the note propped up by the picnic basket. 

Nanami sat cross-legged on the thick wool beneath him. His expression was sweet as he slid the small envelope from its perch, carefully peeling it open like it might break in his hands.

You watched him as you unpacked the food. One container at a time. The warm, delicious scent of the Flour Garden’s signature quiche. A salad with roasted vegetables. Bread that still carried the faint crisp from the oven. You placed it all down in front of him with quiet care, as though serving something sacred.

He unfolded the letter. The candles cast a soft orange light over the paper as his eyes scanned your handwriting.

Kento,

You always tell me I’m dramatic, but what if I said you’re my favorite planet? Not the kind made of gas or rock, but the kind that keeps me grounded. You make me feel like I’m not spinning out in the dark. Like I’m not just orbiting someone who’ll never notice me back.

Being around you is quiet in all the ways I didn’t know I needed. Soft touches, warm food, and arms that always reach for me. If I could live in one place for the rest of my life, I think it’d be that space between your shoulder and your collarbone, where it’s always warm and always smells like home.

You’re my gravity. You keep me from floating away. Happy Valentine’s Day.

P.S. I have some spicy chocolates for youuuu! Eat wisely.

He laughed under his breath at the last part, folding the letter carefully and tucking it into the inside pocket of his coat like it was something worth hiding from the wind.

“That was beautiful.” He looked up at you with an expression that made your heart pound. “And this…”—he gestured to the entire setup—“This is... incredibly thoughtful. I love all of it. I’ll cherish it.”

Your face warmed with pride. “You deserve it.”

You tucked your legs under yourself as you opened one of the pastry boxes. “Okay, so the food is technically not mine.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“But it’s symbolic,” you added quickly. “It’s from the Flour Garden. Where we met.”

That softened him again. He leaned in and kissed you, slow and full, palm warm against your jaw. “It’s perfect.”

You offered him a fork and slid a little closer. “Do you want to know about the chocolates now or after we eat?”

He took the fork but didn’t look at the food. “Let’s save the best for last.”

You grinned. “Ooh, I like the way you think, Kento.”

He started to eat the food you served, quiet as always, but you could see the way his shoulders stayed relaxed. Any stress from today was totally gone.

“So…” you began, nibbling on your own pastry, “I probably should’ve asked this before I fell in love with you, but…”

He paused mid-bite.

“What’s your stance on kids?”

His brows rose slightly, but he didn’t look shocked. He swallowed, wiped the corner of his mouth politely, and turned toward you. “I’d love to start a family when the time is right.”

You exhaled, surprised by how relieved you felt. “Yeah same. I think timing is everything.”

“Definitely.”

“What about pets?” You asked, tilting your head. “Do you want a cat or something?”

He gave the question some thought. “A cat might be nice. Independent. Quiet.”

You sighed dramatically. “Man. I always wanted a scorpion.”

He blinked. “A what?”

You grinned. “A scorpion. But I’d be too scared to open the lid, so it’d definitely die of starvation. That’s the only reason I’ve never gotten one.”

“That's... alarming.”

“You’re not judging me, are you?”

“Oh sweetheart… yes.”

You both laughed, the kind that warmed your stomach, even in the cold night.

“Okay, real question. Would you rather have loved and lost… or never have loved at all?”

He didn’t answer right away. Like he was carefully thinking. “Love like this only comes around once in a lifetime. It’s intense. It happened quickly. We still have our feet on the gas. We’re both on the same page about it. I’ve never felt this way before… and I don’t think I ever will again.”

Your breath caught.

“I couldn’t imagine giving it up just to avoid heartache,” he continued. “Even if something tragic were to happen, I know somewhere—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you cut in, eyes wide. “Are you about to say that you think our love transcends lifetimes? Damn, that’s poetic.”

He set his plate aside, his eyes fixed on you with something heavy and unguarded in them.

“I have something for you,” he spoke suddenly.

You blinked. “Wait. What?”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small box. Matte black. Ribboned. The size of a jewelry case.

Your heart immediately stuttered in your chest. It wasn’t a ring. You knew it wasn’t a ring. But still—a box. You slowly set your food down and took it from his hand.

“...You’re not proposing, right?” you joked weakly, voice a little breathy.

“I’m not.” He gave you the faintest smirk.

You opened the box. Inside was a charm—silver, delicate, perfectly round. A little moon, shimmering softly in the candlelight.

Your mouth parted. “A moon?” you whispered. “How did you know we were going to the planetarium? We planned this last minute. Are you… from the future?”

He laughed. “It’s not a moon.”

You looked up, confused.

“It’s the New Year’s Eve ball… On your bracelet, you already have a flower. That one represents the place we met.”

You stared at the charm. Then at him.

“This one…” he continued, voice quiet, “...represents the night I was certain I fell in love with you.”

You gasped, eyes stinging instantly. “Kento—”

“Roll up your sleeve. Let me put it on.”

You wiped at your eyes and held out your wrist, the charm bracelet you always wore since he gave it to you. He carefully clipped it on beside the flower.

Two charms. Two milestones.

You looked down at them and wondered how many more there’d be. A place. A night. Would there be one for your first apartment? Your first pet? A baby? Would there be room for it all? God, you hoped not, because that would mean your life with Nanami would be too big to contain on a chain.

As he kissed your wrist, sealing the charm into place, you realized you were completely and irreversibly in love.

You nestled closer to Nanami, the cold of the rooftop settling in your bones, but it didn’t matter. Not with him beside you, candles flickering, the moon overhead like a silver spectator to your little love story.

He tapped the side of your thigh lightly. “All right. I’ve been patient. Tell me about these chocolates.”

You grinned, cheeks already heating as you reached for the sleek black box nestled between your plates. You opened it slowly, revealing the rows of carefully shaped chocolates. Each was handmade, slightly imperfect, and very intentionally chosen.

“Okay. So… first off, don’t laugh.”

He immediately gave you that flat, amused stare. “I would never. This is incredibly thoughtful.”

You adjusted the box in your lap. “This is my first time making chocolates. Like, from scratch. I watched so many YouTube tutorials that I started having nightmares about ganache.”

He gave a soft chuckle at that, tilting his head just slightly to watch you more closely.

“I know Valentine’s Day isn’t the biggest thing in Japan, but I also know the whole honmei choco tradition—the woman making chocolates for someone she’s seriously in love with? I wanted to respect that. I know it’s your culture, and you're always so intentional with me. I wanted to be intentional back.”

He didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at you in that way he always did when he didn’t know how to respond with words because everything inside him had gone soft all at once.

“You’ve been living in Japan for a long time. It’s your culture too now.”

You smiled a little. “I appreciate that.”

You glanced down at the chocolates, hesitated, and then spoke softly, “I’ve never given anyone Valentine’s chocolate before.”

He arched a brow. “No one?”

“Nope.”

“Not even your cult leader ex-boyfriend?” He joked.

You groaned and threw your head back with an exaggerated sigh. “We did… other things. Let’s move hastily past that, thank you.”

He snorted. “Mm. Noted.”

“Anyway.” You lifted the first layer of the box and turned it so he could see. “Top row is safe. Thoughtful. Tame. Middle row has the weird flavors I was curious about. The bottom row... spicy.”

He looked at you. “Spicy?”

You nodded solemnly. “Each one has a little note inside. They are... suggestive.”

“Suggestive how?”

You knew he was just dragging this out. He was a man that could read the lines in between the lines. He just wanted you to be explicit with him! Damn this man!

You leveled him with a look. “Kento. If you have to ask, you’re not ready.”

He looked deeply amused now. “I think I can handle it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Eat them responsibly.”

He tilted his head in mock-consideration. “No promises.”

He reached for one in the bottom row. The one shaped like a heart with a dusting of chili powder along the ridge. You watched his fingers—those elegant, practiced hands—pick it up, hold it delicately between his thumb and forefinger like it was something precious.

He bit into it, chewed thoughtfully, and then hummed in quiet appreciation.

“It’s very good.” He nodded, wiping his lip with the edge of a napkin. “Spiced dark chocolate with cinnamon and something else. Cayenne?”

You blinked, impressed. “You have a great palate.”

He nodded like he was aware of his own power level. Then he peeled open the tiny folded note from inside the holding wrapper. Then—that look hit his eyes.

Something shifted. From warm to molten. A slow-burn flicker that lit his gaze from the inside out. His expression didn’t change at first, but you saw it in the tiny crease between his brows, in the way his tongue lightly pressed to the inside of his cheek, like he was really considering what was on that little slip of paper.

“What?” Your eyebrows shot up—heart thumping. “What does it say?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just set the note on his thigh, folded the wrapper neatly, and then looked over to you.

“That one said: Press your lips against my body like you mean it.”

You stared. Mouth open. Blinking once, twice, three times.

“Oh…” You grinned weakly. “Oh no. I—okay, I forgot I put that one in there—”

“Don’t worry.” He inched closer so that his lips were right beside your ear—his voice just a little rougher now, “I’ll make good on this one so you won’t forget again.”

“I’m gonna die right now. I can feel it.” You whispered.

“Die? No.” He murmured, leaning in just slightly, voice dropping low in that way that always made your stomach clench. “You might feel closer to heaven though.”

“Really Kento?” You were fully overheating. “Maybe I shouldn’t have made that bottom row.”

“You absolutely should have.”

The wind had a bite to it now, but you had a feeling you were about to heat back up in the best way possible.

"Come here.” He backed away, beckoning to you.

"Why?" You instantly avoided eye contact—voice teasing. “We’re already so close…”

His tone was steady, but something darker flickered beneath it. "I got an order from the chocolate, and I believe in following instructions."

He set his half-empty plate further aside, shifted forward, and reached for you with both hands—not rough, not rushed, just sure. You barely had time to think before he was gently laying you down on the blanket, easing you onto your back with a care that made your heart race harder than anything filthy ever could.

Cold air kissed your skin, but his body hovered over you like a shield, radiating heat. His coat opened just enough for you to slip your hands inside, palms flattening against the warmth of his chest.

"Kento…"

He kissed you before you could say more. Slow. Deep. Like he had all the time in the universe to learn you. His mouth moved with deliberate weight, savoring, his breath warm against your cheek as his hand slid up your thigh beneath your skirt.

It was different tonight. Not rushed, not teasing, not hungry. It was intimate. Something about being out here, under the stars, made everything feel suspended—like the city around you had gone still, and the sky above was holding its breath.

He started at your lips, kissing them softly. Then your jaw. Your neck. Your collarbone. His mouth was so warm as he worked lower. He pushed your sweater up inch by inch to expose your stomach to the night air, only to chase the chill away with his lips.

You squirmed beneath him, hips arching slightly, breath growing more shallow with every press of his mouth. His hands found your thighs, spreading them gently, thumbs stroking the sensitive line of skin just above your stockings.

He looked up at you from your waist, blond hair falling just slightly out of place.

"Cold?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but then his tongue traced a slow line along your hip, and all that came out was a gasp.

"Just let me know." He spoke, lips curving against your skin.

Nanami made quick work of your boots, gently unzipping them and placing them off to the side.

Soon after, he peeled your panties and stockings down with a reverence that made your head spin, folding them and setting them aside like something precious. He was so fast that you didn’t have time to be cold.

He kissed the inside of your thighs with that same unhurried devotion—alternating sides, dragging it out, watching you twitch and clench your fists into the blanket.

Then finally—finally after dragging it out, his mouth found the place he’d been teasing all night. Warm and slick just for him. Any less and he’d be disappointed in himself.

You cried out softly, hips jerking up as his tongue licked a slow, deliberate stripe between your folds.

"Kento—"

He hummed. A deep, satisfied sound that sent vibrations straight through your core. He ate you like he read that chocolate note and took it personally—tongue flicking, dragging, circling, until you were a mess of moans and breathless pleas.

His fingers slipped inside you without warning, curling in the position you desired, like he knew your body better than you did.

The stars wheeled silently above. The wind danced through the candles, making the flames flicker like they were watching too. 

He’d thrust them in and out of you, your pussy making all of the sounds he’d come to love. You weren’t listening to that though- no, you were listening to the way his lips sounded against you, and how pleased he seeemed.

You could cum from the sound of it alone. You had to wonder if he was good at it, or if he was good with you. Your walls clenched around his fingers. It was taking less and less time these days to get you to climax. He hadn’t mastered your body quite yet, but he was damn close.

Your back arch as you gripped his hair. Your moans were low, but enough. It was when he sucked your clit back into his mouth that you came with a gasp. His name broken on your lips as he groaned against you, tasting every drop of your release like it was a gift—and even then, he didn’t stop.

He kissed his way back up your body—slow, indulgent, his lips searing against your trembling body, the valley of your breasts, your collar, the hollow of your throat. When he reached your mouth again, you could taste yourself on his tongue.

"That was..." You whispered, too dazed to finish.

"A good chocolate." He smirked, voice like gravel dipped in honey. "I might have another."

You laughed—or tried to—but it came out shaky, breathless.

"Why do I have a feeling you won’t be eating those responsibly?” You laughed weakly.

His lips curved into a smile as he pulled you closer, tucking you under his coat.

"Well, responsible is subjective in this case."

His eyes flicked back to the box of chocolates, still sitting innocently to the side like it hadn’t just been the orchestrator of all this sin.

You were still catching your breath when he reached for it—still flat on your back, body slack and glowing from within.

“Kento.” You whispered, dazed and half giggling. “Are you seriously—?”

He opened the box again, calm as ever. “You should know I like the spicy things my love.”

He selected another. Held it up between his fingers before he bit into it, slow and deliberate, as if to show you just how serious he was.

The chocolate cracked, rich and dark, the scent of raspberry and espresso hitting your nose before he even swallowed. He picked up the tiny folded note tucked inside the wrapper and unfolded it.

His brow rose. His jaw flexed once, like he was suppressing something.

You licked your lips, eyes wide, waiting. “What does it say?” You asked softly.

“It just says make her forget how to speak. Fill her until she speaks your name like a prayer… these are very interesting instructions.”

You let out another unsteady laugh—half arousal, half nerves. “Okay, but…”

“If you object you know I’ll stop.”

“I have no objections, sir.”

And just like that, he was on you again.

He shifted your body easily, dragging you up the blanket so your head was nestled against the makeshift pillow. The weight of him returned, solid and comforting, one knee slipping between yours, opening you up again.

You could feel him—hard, aching—pressing against your inner thigh, restrained only by his slacks.

His lips returned to yours, and this time there was no slow burn. He kissed you hard. Thorough. His tongue swept against yours, deliberate, consuming. Like he wanted to kiss you until you couldn’t form a sentence.

It was already working. Fuck!

You gasped against his mouth, fingers sliding under the fabric of his coat, desperate to feel skin. He groaned as your nails dragged across his back, hips rocking against yours with purpose now.

“Take this off…” Your voice was pouring with seduction, and even though you took a sweet tone, it definitely felt like a demand.

He obeyed. His coat first, then your sweater, tossed aside with your skirt. Your shirt went over your head, and suddenly his mouth was on your breasts—his tongue tracing the curve, and his teeth grazing your nipple through your bra.

Your back arched. “I need you.” 

He undid his belt with one hand while the other stayed on your waist. His pants were pushed down just enough. Your legs wrapped around his hips, dragging him closer, pulling him into your space.

Without hesitation, he slid inside of you. There was no teasing. Perhaps it was a combination of you being horny, and on a time limit. 

You cried out, fingers gripping his shoulders, your name falling from his lips in a voice so reverent it made your eyes sting.

He moved slowly, at first. Deep strokes. Intentional. Like he was truly making love with you.

The feeling of being filled, stretched, claimed beneath the open sky was too much. His forehead dropped to yours, sweat beading at his temple as he pushed deeper, kissed harder, groaned your name like it was holy.

Your moans grew higher, breathier, his pace picking up as your walls clenched around him.

“Say it again,” he breathed against your neck.

You whispered it, broken and reverent. “Kento.”

He groaned, snapping his hips harder. “Again.”

“Kento.”

“Louder.”

“Kento—fuck—”

Your body convulsed, clenching, and that was all he needed. Something about the thought of you getting off first was what really got him off.

He spilled into you with a low growl, deep and raw, thrusting through the aftershocks, forehead pressed to your collarbone now, and arms wrapped around you like he was scared you’d disappear.

The two of you lay there for a long moment, limbs tangled, breath mingling in the cold air.

You could still taste the chocolate on his tongue when he kissed you again, softer this time. Slower.

“You know—” You whispered breathlessly, “You really are an overachiever.”

He chuckled, low in his chest. “Don’t give me commands if you don’t want them followed.”

You traced your fingers along his jaw. He leaned into the touch. This was never a feeling that you could imagine getting used to. It was sweet and loving. You knew he felt the same because he allowed his weight to cover you for a while as the two of you enjoyed just being one.

Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, bodies locked and flushed and slick, your breath coming in slow little puffs against his neck.

He hadn’t pulled out. Of course he hadn’t. Nanami knew exactly how you liked it. How the stretch and heat of him still nestled inside you made your chest hum and your body melt. How just being like this, cockwarming under the open sky with the afterglow still fluttering behind your eyelids, was your favorite part.

His hips gave a lazy little flex, barely moving.

You whined softly. “Kento…”

“Just making sure you’re comfortable.” He exhaled, his hand now idly stroking along the outside of your thigh.

“I hate how good you are at this.”

“That sounds like a compliment.”

“It is, but you make it so easy. I cannot last with you.”

He smiled. “It’s not a race.”

You shifted slightly, hips tilting, making him groan low under his breath. His hand on your leg tightened in warning.

You nuzzled against his collar. “So… should I go?”

“To the reunion?” He lifted his head a bit to get a better look at you.

“Yeah. It might be nice, right?” You exhaled. “I mean, it could be cool to see old classmates. Maybe meet some Tokyo people.”

Nanami’s hand paused its stroking. “I told you, if you’re not going, I’m not going.”

You looked up at him. “That’s emotional blackmail.”

“It’s romantic solidarity.”

You snorted. “But really, I wasn’t formally invited. Gojo never sent anything.”

Nanami’s hand resumed its slow path, fingers skating up the back of your thigh. “Like I said before, he probably doesn’t know you’re alumni.”

You frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. By my third year, everyone knew who I was. I wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“I didn’t know who you were.”

“Yeah, but you were busy throwing yourself into higher education and finance.”

“And,” he added gently, “I was still grieving Haibara. The world felt smaller then.”

Your expression softened. You threaded your fingers into his hair, combing through the strands slowly.

He dipped his head and pressed a kiss beneath your jaw.

“Maybe it’s the seal.” He continued. “You said your cursed energy’s completely concealed. Maybe it’s more effective than you realize.”

“You think Gojo’s Six Eyes can’t see I’m hiding something?”

“You said it wouldn’t take all five seals of absolution to nullify Infinity.”

Your breath caught. Your thighs squeezed, and not because he was still inside you. Well, not just because of it. 

“...Nullify.” You echoed in a ghastly whisper.

He didn’t catch the shift in your tone. His hand skimmed your ribs.

You blinked up at the stars, heart rattling. That word. You didn’t realize you were still haunted by it.

“Maybe… it wouldn’t be a bad idea.” You shrug, “To go. No seal removal. No flashy returns. Just… go. Be a face in the crowd.”

Nanami pressed a kiss to your shoulder, humming in agreement. “No pressure. It’s up to you. You know I’d be more than happy to avoid anything that involves Gojo. You’d be doing me a favor if you said no.”

You raised a brow. “No pressure?” You asked, voice thick with mock disbelief. “You’re literally seducing me with dick. How can I say no?” You laughed at your own silly words.

“Don’t laugh like that.” He grunted suddenly.

“What happened?”

“It makes you tighter.”

Your lips parted in surprise. “Oh?”

You grinned. Then—very deliberately—you flexed around him. His entire body stiffened. You started giggling again… totally not intentional.

“I swear to—,” He growled, “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

“What’re you gonna do?” You whispered, hips rolling beneath him. “Planetarium closes in ten minutes.”

He shifted, just slightly, driving deeper. You gasped, hands flying to his back.

“It only takes one for you.” His voice was dripping in confidence.

You choked on a moan. “Oh my God—”

“What happened to all that vigor?” He teased. 

You were writhing, laughing and breathless and desperate.

“You’re evil. Evil! I’m gonna get you back when we get home—”

“I look forward to it.” He dragged his hips again.

You clutched at him, a helpless moan slipping out, your eyes rolling back as your laughter turned into something sweeter. The stars above twinkled like accomplices, winking down as Nanami slowly unraveled you all over again.

As promised, he got you there in no time flat. He knew he had to. As you said, the planetarium closes very soon. Security would certainly do a sweep of the area soon. Even though you two were allowed to be here, it was best you didn’t hold up the workers with things that could be taken care of at home.

Eventually—when your legs stopped trembling and your brain started functioning again—Nanami pulled out with quiet care, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. You groaned at the emptiness but stayed curled in the circle of his body, flushed, slick, and still glowing in the aftermath.

He pressed his lips to your temple, “Thank you for this night. Truly.”

“You’re welcome Kento. Thanks for coming with me… and cumming with me, you know?”

He pulled back shaking his head, “That joke is beneath you my love.”

“It really isn’t though.”

He smirked, and it made your stomach flip because Nanami didn’t smirk often, but when he did? It was with you. All of his smiles and laughter were tied to you. You were his peace.

“Come on.” He helped you into a seated position. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You tried to rise to your feet but your thighs immediately gave out and you plopped back onto the blanket like a used rag doll. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He chuckled—actually chuckled—and you wanted to slap him and kiss him all at once.

“Give it a minute.” He gestured for you to relax.

He fished out a few tissues from the picnic basket—Kaya’s attention to detail deserved a Nobel Peace Prize—and gently helped you wipe down, each touch delicate but intimate. No teasing now, just soft care. His brows furrowed with focus like he was cleaning a wound, not the aftermath of a sinful little chocolate dare.

Once you were halfway decent, you made sure you were dressed and presentable again.

“Kaya’s friend’s cousin’s boss is gonna kill Kaya’s friend’s cousin if we don’t tidy this up right.” You pouted.

Nanami looked up. “Wait. That wasn’t a joke earlier?”

You gave him an exasperated look. “No! The friend’s cousin’s boss knows we were up here. I had to promise no fire hazards, no sex on the glass, and absolutely no food fights. Which, honestly, was a reasonable set of rules.”

He blinked at you. “You negotiated this?”

“Well, Kaya’s friend’s cousin did on my behalf.”

He looked at you like you were made of stardust and nerve. “You really don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

You gave him a lazy smile, one boot halfway zipped. “Not when it comes to you.”

You helped him fold the blanket, pack up the half-eaten food, snuff the candles, and box the chocolates.

As you gathered everything, you felt a paper shift in your pocket. You reached in and remembered you put the pictures in your pocket. Not a great place to store them, but they were fine.

You pulled it out, and there it was. The photo booth picture strip. You held it up between your fingers, the Tokyo skyline glittering behind it.

“I’m so in love with you,” you whispered, not even realizing you’d said it aloud… again.

He looked over, taking in the photo… then you. “That’s my line.”

You turned to him, cheeks flushing all over again, and kissed him. Slow. Gentle. A kiss like a thank you. A kiss that you hoped lasts forever.

“Ready to go home?” he asked, after a long moment.

You nodded, slipping your arm through his as you both made your way back inside. “Oh, I’m ready.”

His eyes flicked to yours. “You planning something?”

You grinned. “You should be worried.”

“I’m not.”

“You should be,” you said, voice dripping with promise. “Because when we get home, I’m going to take my time. I’m going to make you feel every second of what you just did to me on that balcony.”

He exhaled slowly, like he was already imagining it. “That a threat?”

You smirked, tugging him toward the elevator. “Oh you know it is.”

He chuckled low under his breath, pulled you closer, and whispered at your ear as the elevator doors closed, “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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[softcursechoso]

Memoirs from a Gilded Cage: CH. 10

Attack on Titan x Reader

Black!Reader Levi x Reader Erwin x Reader

Masterlist

MDNI 18+ ONLY //NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS

CH. 10 Warnings: None - getting pissed off at a board game and nearly having a sweet moment but the main characters are stubborn as fuck!!!!

Words: 9.1k+

WARDEN'S FOLLY

The Eternal Thread : 9:32am : Mitras

The morning sun filters through the small cracks of your heavy black curtains, casting long beams of gold across the hardwood floors of your shop. It’s a new day, though your body feels heavy from the time you spent underground. 

You stood in the workshop, dressed for subtle elegance—your long-sleeved blouse a shade of deep cream, with a structured collar that brushed your jawline. The sleeves tapered at the wrists and were fastened with tiny pearl buttons. Your skirt fanned out around your legs dramatically, a layered sweep of charcoal tulle and silk that caught the light when you moved. 

It was modest, intentional. A beautiful armor. You didn’t want Levi or Furlan seeing the bruises anymore. Not the fading fingerprints along your upper arm. Not the ones around your ribs or on your thighs. You knew what they thought of them. You knew how it sat behind Furlan’s smile, behind Levi’s silence. So you covered it.

Your bag sat at your feet, packed neatly. You held your polished steel gleaming shears, as you crouched in the hall of your shop. The cutout floorboard rested flush with the rest of the planks—perfectly unassuming even now. You slid the shears into the tiny groove, ready to pry it up, when a soft sound caught your attention.

A letter slid through the mail slot.

It landed with a small clink. You paused, shears halfway into the seam, and turned. Even before you reached it, your lungs had tightened. Something in the air told you. You already knew.

You walked over and as you picked it up from the floor, your breath caught. Heavy parchment, ivory-toned, bordered with blue trimming. A neat wax seal, deep navy, pressed with the sigil of the Survey Corps.

“Erwin.” You whisper.

You bite down on a sob before it escapes, tearing the wax open with care as though it might break under your fingers. Your eyes skim the familiar slant of his handwriting—measured, steady, just like him.

There was something inside. You could feel it shift when you tilted the envelope slightly. Your fingers were shaking as you broke the seal. A small necklace slipped into your palm—silver chain, delicate, with a single charm that looked like a droplet of water frozen in glass. It wasn’t expensive. It wasn’t grand. But it was incredibly thoughtful.

You knelt there on the floor, the necklace dangling between your fingers, trembling. Then you opened the letter all the way.Hello From Trost,

By the time this letter reaches you, I’ll be long gone from the district. I’d rather tell you these things in person, but distance and duty seem determined to interfere.

I passed by a little shop while walking near the inner edge of the Trost marketplace. It was tucked between a smokehouse and a tavern that smelled of sweat and burnt potatoes. Inside, it was cramped, disorganized, but not without its charm. Still, something about it made me think of you. I found this necklace there. I thought it might suit you—small, simple. Not much by Mitras standards, I’m sure, but it reminded me of water held in sunlight. Of clarity. Of stillness. You deserve both.

I won’t be offended if you never wear it. I understand what you’re used to. Still, I hope you’ll keep it. Even if only in a drawer.

The food here tastes bitter and plain. The tea is weak. The air is heavy with chimney smoke and the scent of river silt. But there’s a warmth to the people. A resilience in the dust. I know you’ll see it one day. I hope to be at your side when you do.

Have you eaten, or gotten any rest? Please don’t forget to do so. Don’t forget to take it easy on yourself. You’ve faced enough.

I haven’t forgotten what we spoke of. The thing we discussed. I’ve kept my ears open. It’s difficult to balance that with my usual work, but I’ll find a way. I promised you I would, and I keep my promises.

Wherever you are, I hope you’re safe. I hope your mind is still sharp and your eyes still see through everything. I look forward to seeing them again.

Yours,—E. S.

The letter falls from your hands, fluttering softly to the floor like a wilting petal. You bring your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them, burying your face there as the tears begin to fall.

It hurts. Not in a sharp, sudden way—but in that dull, aching place inside of you that you try so hard to ignore. You knew you missed him. You knew he was kind. Gentle. Warm.

Guess you didn’t realize how deeply you’d let him in. Not until now.

The way he wrote to you—described the sky, the food, the wind—like you were someone who belonged in it. Like he could already see you there. Like he wanted to.

It wasn’t loneliness that broke you. You’d lived with that all your life.

It was the feeling that someone had finally made room for you. Someone was out there thinking of you. Someone remembered to wonder if you were sleeping or eating.

Your sobs come harder now, shaking your shoulders. Maybe the search can wait.

If you get yourself killed chasing shadows and you never get to see him again—if you never get to hear his voice in person again—it would be too much. Far too much to bear.

You press your forehead to the floor, letting the tears come. Your skirt pools around you like spilled ink, your breath shuddering with each exhale.

Erwin… He made you feel pretty. He made you feel real. He made you feel... wanted, and right now, you miss him like a wound that won't heal.

He wouldn’t want you like this. He wouldn’t want you sad on the floor yearning for his presence. No, he’d want you up and ready. He would want you to go on with your day and make good choices, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

The necklace is light in your hand, but it carries weight.

You unclasp the necklace and connect it back behind your neck—guiding the charm to rest just below the hollow of your throat. Then, without thinking, you slip it under your shirt, letting the cool metal rest directly against your skin. It doesn’t matter that it’s not expensive. It feels like something else entirely. A talisman. A promise. Something to hold on to when things go dark again.

You press the folded letter to your chest for a moment before rising and taking it to the backroom. You open the drawer of your desk and carefully place the parchment inside. You’ll write back soon. That way, when Erwin returns from his expedition, he’ll have something waiting for him. A piece of you.

For now, there’s business to attend to.

Apartment : 11:35am : Underground

It doesn’t take long to return to the underground. The path is second nature now. The damp air greets you like an old friend, and the clang of metal against stone, the distant murmurs, and shouting voices feel oddly familiar. The chaos of it all has become a rhythm you understand.

The apartment is warm when you arrive. Not from heat, but from the feeling inside it. Only Isabel and Furlan are there.

You throw the door open with a grin. “I have two things that are going to change your lives.”

Isabel turns from the table, her face lighting up. “Well look who’s back! Welcome home!”

Furlan raises his brows, a soft smile forming as he leans against the kitchen counter. “Welcome back. Thought you might’ve run off again.”

“I brought chicken and dumplings!” You announce, pulling your bag off your shoulder.

Isabel practically lunges forward. “What?! You got your hands on meat?!”

Furlan chuckles, arms crossed. “She’s a smooth talker. Knows how to get what she wants.”

You flash a grin. “You got that right.”

Isabel lets out a dramatic gasp. “I’ve heard about your cooking! You’re like... legendary. I’ve been eating slop my entire life. Garbage. If I die after this, I’ll die happy.”

Your smile falters just a bit, heart pinching. She says it like a joke, but you know it’s not. She means it. Isabel grew up in the cracks. Hungry. Tired. Unloved. You’d make this meal count.

You begin unpacking the ingredients from your bag: sealed jars of preserved broth, flour, carefully wrapped cuts of chicken, dried herbs, even a stick of butter that’s barely keeping its shape. The aroma is already starting to come together in your mind. Warm. Comforting.

You set the pot on the stove..Furlan joins you, rolling up his sleeves. He walks to the sink and washes his hands with a bar of cracked soap.

You glance at him over your shoulder. “I missed this.”

He gives you a soft look, then gestures to your leg. “How’s your ankle?”

“It’s fine.” You nudge him lightly with your elbow. “I told you that before I even went home.”

“I know. Just wanted to be sure.” His tone lightens.

You glance away, lips tugging into something smaller. Softer.

Then he looks at you, brow raised. “So… what’s the second thing?”

You blink. “What?”

He smirks. “You said two things were going to change our lives. One was the food. What’s the other?”

“Oh!” You light up. “Right. The game!”

Isabel perks up again. “A game?”

You nod, reaching into your bag and pulling out a wooden box. The top is carved with a sunburst and swirling lines, edges darkened from years of use. You set it on the table with reverence.

“It’s called Warden’s Folly.”

They both stare at you.

“It’s a game of strategy and luck.” You explain, unlatching the box. “But mostly strategy. There’s a board—see, here—with five territories: the Quarry, the Gardens, the Keep, the Market, and the Barracks. Each of you controls a faction. You have to gain control of the city by collecting influence tokens, seizing districts, and sabotaging your opponents. You roll the dice to move your agents, but how you use your resources is what really matters. There’s bluffing, bribery, alliances… and betrayal.”

Isabel’s jaw drops. “That sounds amazing.”

Furlan nods, intrigued. “You had me at sabotage.”

You laugh. “We’ll play once the soup’s on.”

You set the game pieces carefully on the table: small wooden tokens shaped like horses, houses, and coins. The rulebook is handwritten, ink smudged from past use. You run your hand across the top of the board.

You don’t say it aloud, but you used to play this game with Cassius and Tinsley. It was one of the only times you all felt like a real family. Maybe now, you can rewrite those memories—with better ones.

You smile to yourself. This time, it will be different.

Doesn’t take much more to prepare the chicken and dumplings. You have to cook the base soup anyway, and with it boiling, there’s enough time to get in a little practice round.

You, Furlan, and Isabel take your seats around the table. The box of Warden’s Folly sits between you like sacred treasure. The board is fully set now, the factions selected, tokens sorted, dice gleaming. You’re just about to start when the front door creaks open.

Levi walks in.

He looks exhausted. Not dramatically so—just a quiet tiredness that clings to his shoulders and the small lines near his eyes. His hair is a little out of place, his clothes slightly ruffled.

Still, his presence cuts through the air like a knife.

You catch the way his eyes squint, just slightly, catching the scent of the food before his eyes settle on you. His posture changes minutely. Not relaxed, but something less defensive. It’s so subtle anyone else would miss it, but not you.

You smile. "Welcome back. You break any hearts with that haircut?"

Levi blinks with a pause. That tiny delay where the blood creeps up his neck. "Stop."

"Bro!" Isabel says, wide-eyed. "Are you blushing right now?"

He rolls his eyes and sinks further into the room, but the faint pink at the tips of his ears doesn’t lie.

You lean back in your chair, arms stretched behind your head. "Anyway, heartbreaker, I just explained the rules of this game, but I can do it again. Wouldn’t want you to pout if we left you out."

Levi approaches the table, eyes flicking over the board. He exhales through his nose, "I know this game."

Your brows lift. "Okay then. Let’s see what you got."

He pulls up a chair next to you, dragging it with that casual confidence. Then, just like that, the four of you begin.

The game is designed to take hours. There's dice rolling, resource managing, tokens flipping, territory bartering. You control the Barracks, a risky move early on, but you know how to play the long game. Furlan chooses the Market, Isabel claims the Keep, and Levi, without hesitation, takes the Quarry.

The opening moves are clumsy. Isabel keeps forgetting the rules. Furlan tries to form an alliance with everyone at once. Levi says very little, but watches. Calculates. He plays cautiously, too cautiously.

You, however, move like you were born into this game.

Twenty minutes in, you have full control of two districts and have stolen half of Levi's influence tokens through a bluff so bold even you weren’t sure it would land.

"You said your agent would go for the Market." Levi says irritably.

You smirk. "It’s called bluffing, Levi."

Furlan groans. "We never stood a chance."

Isabel is already throwing her tokens in the air. "She just ran through us. We let it happen. We were just sitting here!"

You keep your eyes on Levi, taunting. "I thought you knew this game."

Levi exhales, "Set the board again."

You laugh. "Ooh. Feisty. Let’s eat first, then we can reset."

Isabel throws both arms up in victory. "Yes! Soup time!"

You move to the kitchen and ladle out bowls for everyone, thick chicken broth steaming as it hits the bowls. The dumplings are golden and soft, the meat shredded to perfection. You hand each of them their portion, the scent of butter and herbs filling the room.

Isabel digs in immediately. "Ah! It’s hot!"

You blink at her. "Yeah, it just came off the burner."

She fans her mouth, grinning. "I’ve never had something hot before. Usually I have to wait for food to get less cold. Waiting for it to cool down is amazing. I can’t wait."

She blows on the next spoonful, takes a bite, and moans. "This is the single greatest thing I have ever eaten. I can’t get it in my mouth fast enough! I don’t care if it burns me."

You laugh, a warmth blooming in your chest. "Glad you like it."

You look to your right. Levi isn’t eating. His eyes are fixed on the game board, mouth moving silently. He’s calculating. Replaying every move.

"Levi.” You call to him.

No response.

"Levi." you repeat, louder.

Still nothing.

You lean over and grab his face, making him look at you. "Eat, then I’ll beat your ass again after lunch, okay? Promise."

He moves your hand away. "I didn’t lose. I miscalculated based on inaccurate data."

Furlan snorts into his bowl. "It’s just a game. We all lied."

Levi shoots him a look.

You sip your soup, smiling over the rim of your bowl. "You can reset the board if you want. Let’s see what you can do with 'accurate data' after a second loss."

"No alliances this time." Levi frowns.

"You never had one." You speak sweetly. "You just assumed I wouldn’t turn on you. Rookie mistake."

Isabel laughs so hard she snorts.

"Let’s eat." Furlan lifts his bowl. "Then it’s war."

For the first time in a long time, the room feels whole. You eat. You laugh, and later, you will play again, but for now, this moment—this shared heat, this banter, this smell of chicken and laughter—is everything.

Something you don’t take for granted. Something you can’t take for granted. 

Time is so cruel, however. Slow when you need it fast, and fast when you need it slow. Before you know it the meal is over, and you’re preparing to play this game again. Guess it’s not so bad. The game is a lot of fun too. 

Empty bowls now clutter the table, each one licked clean thanks to Isabel. The smell of roasted chicken and warm broth lingers in the air. You collect the dishes, stacking them with care, then carry them to the sink, where you rinse them under a stream of cool water. Behind you, Isabel stretches and groans happily, like a cat full from a feast.

"That was the best thing I have ever eaten.” She mumbles into her sleeve.

Furlan rubs his stomach. "You’ve outdone yourself this time."

"You’re all welcome." You smile, drying your hands on a towel. 

You turn, eyeing the board game again. The pieces are still out from the first round.

Levi is already staring at it, one hand propped against his jaw, his eyes narrowed like he’s calculating troop movements in a real war.

"I’m ready to play again!" Isabel squeals. "I want revenge."

"Me too!" Furlan grins. "Let’s go."

The second round begins.

This time, they come prepared. Strategies form, alliances are hinted at, dice are rolled with a little more purpose.

Furlan is a threat this time. He dominates the Market and plays his resources smart. Isabel tries a double-cross but fumbles one of the sabotage cards. Levi plays stiff, still trying to feel his way through the mechanics.

Once again, you win… but barely.

Furlan had you on the ropes for the last three turns. It takes a cleverly placed Influence token and a final bluff to seal the deal.

"Reset!" Isabel shouts. "We’re not stopping now."

Oh yeah! Everyone is on the same wavelength as her. It’s time to ready up again. You were right. A little distraction is exactly what you all needed. This was fun.

The third game is on now. Everyone sharpens up.

Furlan plays aggressively, making bold moves and sabotaging both you and Isabel in the same turn. You nearly recover, but he snakes a final objective from under your nose.

Furlan wins… Barely. Not bad for a beginner.

You sit back, a grin on your face despite the loss. "Look at you. Who knew you had it in you?"

Furlan smirks. "What can I say? I’m a man of mystery."

“Reset?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

Isabel nods, “Count on it!”

Fourth round.

Isabel comes out swinging. She’s reckless, chaotic, and somehow it works. She rolls three perfect numbers in a row, pulls a Lucky Draw card, and flips the board on all of you.

She wins. Screaming.

"YES! Yes, yes, yes! I’m the best!" She yells, standing up with both arms raised.

You all groan, but her little celebration is kind of cute. 

The fifth game begins, and now, it’s Levi’s turn to win… Or it should be, but something’s off.

He makes strange moves. Wastes valuable tokens. Fails to reinforce his territories. He loses again. And again. And again. He’s not good at this, and that’s incredibly rare for someone like him.

"This doesn’t make sense.” Levi mumbles, eyes darkening. "These dice are rigged."

Furlan leans in. "Are you... blaming the dice now?"

Levi doesn’t answer.

You rest your chin in your palm, teasing, "You need lessons, Levi? I can draw you a diagram. Would you like that?"

He grumbles something under his breath—can’t even fully dignify that with a proper response.

Then, Levi pauses for a moment, "So when you place a Decoy Agent... that’s not the same thing as a Bribe Marker, right?"

Everyone freezes. What did he just say?

Furlan stares at him, incredulous. "Wait. Wait. You don’t know how to play this game, do you?"

Levi frowns. "I know how to play Scoundrel’s Lure."

You blink. "Levi, this is Warden’s Folly."

Isabel bursts out laughing. "He thought this was what?! Man is so distracted! Probably because he can’t stop looking at your outfit. I know I can’t!"

You glance down, surprised. It’s one of your more modest looks. High collar. Long sleeves. Nothing like what you usually wear.

You arch a brow and turn to him. "Am I distracting you, Levi?"

He ignores the jab. "Reset. We’re doing it again."

He scoots his chair, turning to face you fully, elbows on his knees, eyes sharp.

"Tell me exactly what the rules are. Do not skip any details."

You blink dramatically. "Levi, you’re scaring me."

He reaches out and grabs the leg of your wooden chair, yanking it a few inches closer. The legs scrape loudly.

"Tell me."

You laugh, holding up both hands, "Alright, alright. No need to get all intense on me."

You explain everything. Every mechanic. Every phase. Every rule. Ya know, the rules he would have already known had he not been out here saying he knew them in the first place.

He listens. Quiet. Focused.

With all of that knowledge, the next game ends as soon as it begins, practically. He’s more cut throat this time. Levi isn’t playing just to win. He wants to humiliate everyone… and he does.

Levi wins, and you all stare at the board, stunned.

"Wait—" Isabel starts, but she doesn’t even know what to ask.

“Let’s do that… again?” Furlan tilts his head, confused.

Levi already has the board reset. Oh he’s ready for you fuckers now!

Next game.

Levi wins again. It’s not even close. His moves are ruthless. His sabotage placements are surgical. He bluffs Furlan into giving up a stronghold and convinces Isabel to waste her resources on a feint. You lose by a mile.

"He’s a monster." Furlan mutters.

Levi doesn’t even gloat. Just sits there, smug as hell, reshuffling the cards.

"You know." He starts without looking at you. "For someone who talks a lot of shit, you fall apart under pressure pretty easily."

You glare. "I’ll throw this game board at you. Don’t test me."

He lifts his eyes to yours, expression flat. "Wouldn’t help. You’d still lose."

Another round comes and goes. Yup. Levi talked shit. Levi backed it up. It’s quite infuriating actually.

"I’m not playing this dumbass game anymore!" You snap, pushing your chair back.

Isabel slaps her pieces on the table. "This game sucks!"

Furlan throws down his cards. "I’m leaving!" He storms out, slamming the door.

Isabel follows a second later, growling under her breath. She disappears into the back room, the door slamming hard enough to rattle the frame.

You flop onto the couch, arms crossed, back turned. Silent. Pissed.

Levi sits at the table, arms resting on either side of the board. Victorious. This game had been fun when everyone else was winning, but Levi winning? Somehow, that just pissed everyone off.

You’re so mad you’re sure Levi can just feel your pissed off energy. At least when everyone else won there was a window open for the chance to win next round. Levi made sure that everyone was just demolished alongside their hopes for the next round.

Levi doesn’t gloat. Not verbally. Maybe that’s what makes it worse. He’s not even saying shit! Well, at first he wasn’t.

Then, like the devil himself couldn’t resist, he pokes the bear. "Should’ve kept your eye on the board instead of running your mouth."

Your head snaps around. "Set up the game again."

He tilts his head to look back at you a bit. "What was that?"

You stand up and march back over to the table. "You heard me. We’re not stopping until I win."

Levi raises a brow, already stacking the cards with deliberate, slow flicks. "So you’re staying the night again?"

“Give me these damn cards!” You snatched them from his hands, “I don’t trust you! You’re gonna see though. You picked the wrong person to piss off.”

You talked big… and then… you play again. And again. And again. Levi keeps winning. Every time.

It’s not even close anymore. You pull every trick in the book—sabotage, bribery, feints—and he just adapts- like he’s memorized the algorithm behind your every move.

It’s unbearable. Time to level the playing field. You have to distract!

You lean forward sweetly, resting your elbow on the table, chin in your palm.

"That haircut’s really working for you, you know that? Makes your jaw look extra sharp."

He glances up at you with suspicion. "What are you doing?"

"Just saying.” You smile innocently. "Also, I’ve been thinking—might be time to sew you some new clothes. You’re not exactly small anymore. Filling out your shirts in the arms lately."

His hand freezes mid-reach for a token.

Bingo.

You keep talking. About how the shape of his back has changed. How the seams are probably starting to strain a little. You offer to take his measurements sometime soon, purely for tailoring purposes of course.

He doesn’t say a word, and then—You win. Clean, strategic, surgical. What a dumbass. He fell for it. 

You throw your arms up. "That’s fucking game!"

Levi stares at the board like it personally betrayed him.

You laugh, triumphant, striding around the table and giving him a light tap on the shoulder. "Good game. No rematches. I’m gonna sit on that win."

He glares at you. "Set up the fucking game again."

You walk backwards toward the couch. "Nope. I’m retiring on a win."

He’s already rising. "Set the damn game up. Now."

You turn to leap onto the couch but don’t make it.

Strong arms hook around your waist, and suddenly your feet are off the ground.

"Levi! Put me down!"

You’re laughing, legs kicking, hands grabbing at his forearms. He doesn’t respond, just carries you back to the table like a man possessed, lowers you into the chair, and scoots you in like you’re a child.

"One last game. Winner takes all."

You cross your arms, lower lip jutting out a bit. "Hate you."

"That’s fine."

The pieces are reset. Cards shuffled. Dice handed out. The room is quiet.

This one—you give it everything… but Levi wins. Again.

You shoot to your feet. "I don’t accept this! You aren’t better than me!"

He looks up, deadpan. "Rematch?"

The tone is so casual, so damn confident, it makes your blood boil.

You narrow your eyes. "You smug little shit."

"You scared?"

You slam yourself back into your chair. "Shuffle the cards."

It becomes a rhythm. You win. Barely. He scowls. He wins. Barely. You curse.

He accuses you of distracting him. You accuse him of tampering with the deck.

You scream when he snatches victory from a four-move combo you didn’t see coming. He groans when you bait him into an alliance at the Market, only to backstab him two turns later.

The air is thick with strategy, insults, and not-so-hidden admiration. You’re both out of breath by the sixth or seventh or hundredth round, and yet neither of you even thinks of stopping.

The rest of the house stays silent. No Furlan. No Isabel. Just you and Levi. Locked in this stupid, stubborn, glorious game… and underneath it all? You were kind of having the time of your lives.

More time passes, and now your most recent win sits on the board like a glorious monument to your pettiness.

Three districts, two hidden agents perfectly placed, and a final turn so graceful it should be taught in schools. You’re leaning back in your chair, arms folded behind your head, basking in the glow of your triumph when the door creaks open again.

Furlan walks back in. His face is calmer, his eyes a little sheepish. He pauses when he sees you and Levi still at it, then sighs through his nose.

"Welcome back." You speak, not even turning fully. "I’m kicking Levi’s ass."

Levi, deadpan, adjusts a stack of resource cards in front of him. "She won one match."

"It was definitely more than one." You counter, winking at Furlan. "You want in on the next round?"

Furlan shakes his head and drops into the armchair. "No. I think that game brings something out of me I don’t like. It’s like it reaches into my soul and pulls out my worst traits."

You laugh. "I get ya. I would stop playing if Levi would just accept defeat like a gentleman."

Levi scoffs. "Set up the damn board."

Your smile fades into a frown. You put a hand on your hip. "Don’t talk to me like that. Besides, losers set. Go, loser."

He opens his mouth to say something, and you don’t even let him finish. "Ooh, is my little feisty ass mouth bothering you?"

His eyes flick to yours, the barest trace of something like amusement twitching at the corner of his lips. That phrase—you weren’t gonna let it go, were you? The way it made something flutter low in your stomach. How could he forget?

"No.” Levi shakes his head slightly, “Keep running that mouth of yours. It'll be more embarrassing when you lose."

"You’re so confident for someone who fumbled over a few compliments."

Furlan yawns and pushes himself out of the chair. "Don’t ruin your friendship over this game."

"We’ll survive.” You smile as you reset your tokens. "Besides, I only have one more round in me."

The truth? You had about fifty, but Levi didn’t need to know that.

The game is set. The match begins, and once again it’s over in an instant. He mops the floor with you. You stare at the board, jaw clenched.

Levi leans back, arms crossed, completely at ease. "Goodnight."

"Fuck off, Levi. We’re playing again."

Rarely does Levi make a facial expression that’s something other than frowning or neutral. He’s got a light smile on his face right now though, and that just tells you that he’s more into this than he let on. It’s… cute.

You grit your teeth and start reshuffling the cards. "Okay, new rule. Winning one game doesn’t count anymore. Too easy. If you win two matches in a row, then you’re the winner."

He quirks a brow. "Hm. Easy work."

It is in fact not easy work.

Every time one of you wins, the other scrambles to break the streak. You take the next round after his, only for him to steal the one after that. It goes on and on. Two in a row? Impossible.

Hours pass. The candles flicker low, casting golden light across the board. You both look worse for wear—hair tousled, voices raspy, posture increasingly dramatic with each play. You rest your chin on your palm. Levi has his sleeves rolled up and arms tense.

"You keep looking at my hands." Levi eyes you from across the table. "You’re trying to read me again."

You shrug. "Maybe I just like your hands."

He pauses. The dice roll from his fingers like an afterthought. "That so?"

You smile faintly. "They’re nice for someone who spends his life punching things and scrubbing floors."

He raises a brow. "Anything else?"

"No." Reply a little too fast. "Maybe. Shut up."

Levi just hums. He knows what you’re doing, though that doesn’t mean a couple of truths didn’t slip out in the meantime.

A few turns pass in silence, but the tension doesn’t go anywhere. If anything, it thickens.

"You know." You start up again. "I really think you’d look good in black. Like a dark color. Maybe even grey. Something fitted. Clean lines."

"Planning to sew something for me?"

"If you finally let me."

He glances up. "I never stopped you."

You don’t respond. You both play harder. He wins another game.

You slam your cards down. "This is fucking stupid."

"You’re getting emotional.” He taunts. "Losing your edge."

You narrow your eyes. "If I was getting emotional, it would only be because you won’t stop staring at me!"

He doesn’t deny it. The silence that follows is too loud. No acknowledgment. Just reset the board and lay again.

Deadlocked. You win again.

You stand up, triumphant, pointing a dramatic finger across the table. "One more, Levi. That win streak starts now."

He scoffs. "Yeah we’ll see.”

The pieces are reset. The board is cleared. Neither of you know how much time has passed, and from the way you play it seems that neither of you care. All that matters is the next move.

At this point, the game isn’t even about strategy. It’s just a long, never-ending war of attrition. You and Levi are barely making coherent sentences anymore, trading insults and wild banter like it’s currency. Your posture is slack, legs curled under you in the chair, one arm lazily hanging off the side. Levi is hunched over the board like a man protecting a sacred artifact.

"You keep bluffing like that and I’m going to start charging you rent for every time you land in the Barracks." You mumble, eyes half-lidded.

Levi doesn’t even blink. "You just got lucky."

"Lucky? Is that why you tanked your own resources like an amateur?"

"Still had more tokens than you."

"Uh-huh. Sure, Levi."

You’re both hiding grins like lunatics. The insults have lost their venom, slurred at the edges by exhaustion. Then a door creaks.

Isabel walks into the room, yawning so hard her jaw clicks. Her hair’s a wild mess, and she’s squinting like she can’t believe her eyes.

"You guys are still up to this?"

"Yup.” You nod, not missing a beat, eyes still locked on the board. "One of us has to win two in a row."

She rubs her eyes. "Seriously? I went to sleep hours ago. Like hours ago."

The back door opens again, and Furlan emerges looking equally rested as Isabel. "Okay, no. You guys gotta stop this shit. This has gone too far."

"No!" You yell, half standing from your chair. "Levi, help! They’re trying to tear us apart!"

Levi doesn’t even look up. "No one intervene."

Isabel yawns again. "I think we have to intervene at this point. You two are insane."

Furlan runs a hand through his hair. "Alright, new rule. One more match. Winner takes all. That’s it. We’re putting the game away for good after."

You whip your head toward him, betrayed. "No! I just won the last round. You know how this works—that means Levi’s probably gonna win next and take everything. That’s rigged. That’s statistically unfair."

Levi leans back in his chair, smug. "You scared?"

"Okay, how about this…” You exhale slowly. "When I win the next round, you have to look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m better than you. I’m incredible, and no one comes close! Deal?"

Levi raises a brow, scoffing. "You’re not gonna win. So, sure. Deal."

Isabel collapses dramatically into the couch. "Oh, the stakes! I’m awake now. Side bet! If you win, then you gotta stay here a week."

Furlan sits beside her. "Yeah, and if Levi wins, just kiss already."

“What?” Both you and Levi look at Furlan.

“You heard me.” The blonde yawns. “Go on.” 

You shake your head, “I don’t like my terms. How the hell is it that my win garners a punishment for me?!”

Isabel rolls her eyes. “It’s not a punishment. Think of it as a consolation prize for the loser. You may have lost, but you get what you want out of it.”

You sit straighter. Your blood surges. Everything rides on this. “You think I want a  kiss if I lose? Whatever… so let’s go.”

The board is reset. The cards shuffled. The tokens re-distributed. The rules reread just to be sure. The air is tense. Sacred. Heavy with purpose.

You crack your neck. Take a deep breath. Your heart pounds in your ears. This is it.

"Hope you like sharing that bed, Levi."

Levi shakes his head, “Don’t count on it."

The game starts off evenly. You and Levi are dialed in, every move calculated, every play deliberate. The tension in the air is thick, not quite competitive anymore—not with what’s on the line. It hums with something else now. A deeper charge. A rhythm only the two of you seem to understand.

Isabel, however, does not care. She’s lying sideways on the couch, legs over the armrest, "Hey bro, take it easy on her. Feels like you’re playing a little too hard for that kiss."

Levi doesn’t even look at her. "Your commentary is unnecessary."

Furlan chuckles from the chair by the window, a small book in his lap. "You do realize heckling might get you stabbed, right?"

"Worth it." Isabel mutters.

The game presses on. You reach to move your agent token across the Gardens district—a bold play meant to snag an objective and block Levi from access.

As you do, something slips from beneath your shirt. A delicate, dainty glint. Your necklace. The small charm swings gently, catching the low light from the oil lamp.

Isabel sits upright so fast her hair flips over her face. "Oooo! That’s a pretty necklace!"

You glance down and quickly tuck it back under your shirt. "Oh. Thanks."

Furlan raises an eyebrow. "You’ve never worn that before, right?"

"No." You say a bit too quickly. "It’s new."

"Where’d you get it?" Isabel asks.

You pause, eyes flicking to your cards. "It was a gift."

Isabel gasps, grinning. "From whoooo?"

"A friend.” You snap. "Why the hell are you so interested in my necklace?"

"It just seems like the kind of gift you give to a lover.” She clasps her hands, eyes gleaming.

Your throat tightens. "I—"

The words don’t come out. They twist and knot in your chest. You glance around the table until your eyes land on Levi.

He hasn’t said a word, but he’s looking at you. Not just glancing, not curious. Watching. Like he just caught the tail end of something important and doesn’t know what to do with it.

Furlan notices too. Of course he does. He clears his throat and opens a book, pretending to stay out of it.

"Oh shit!" Isabel gasps. "You didn’t say no! It is from a lover!"

"No!" You bark. "It’s not—that’s not—it was just a gift okay?"

She grins. "Was it a man or a woman?"

You hesitate too long again. "A man. But—"

"He's hitting on you!" Isabel declares. "Duh! No one gives out gifts like that to a friend!"

Your skin is burning. You can’t even look up. You fiddle with your dice, trying to focus. Your next move is shaky. Your resource token falls out of your hand.

Suddenly, Levi’s game starts to fall apart. He’s slower now. Not calculating. Not watching the board. His responses are delayed, and he fumbles two cards, almost putting one in the discard pile by mistake. You glance over at him and something about his expression makes your stomach turn.

It isn’t that he’s annoyed. He’s... distracted. Distant. Like someone who just heard something that hurt.

Isabel continues watching, oblivious. Furlan’s pretending to be invested in his book but he hasn’t flipped the page in five minutes.

You try to reset yourself. Try to get back into it, but suddenly, your cards just... work. Your agents move cleanly. The board opens up for you. Levi plays his turn wrong—twice.

The game is over. Winner: you. It doesn’t even feel like a win when it ends. 

He sets his cards down quietly. "Good game." He stands up from the table, eyes still on you as if they are looking straight at your soul. His tone blunt, “You’re better than me. You’re incredible, and no one comes close.”

You blink. "Wait—seriously?"

He doesn’t answer. Just walks toward the back room. You watch him go, a tight knot forming in your chest. He let you win. There’s no way you didn’t see it. The final round, he had you. He had a sabotage card, he had the token placements. He just... didn’t use them.

You push your chair back, hands curling into fists in your lap. This is not over. You’re going to find out why.

You abruptly storm into the back room, half-expecting Levi to be hunched at the side of the bed already— but he’s standing at the far edge of the bed. His shirt is halfway off, and his back is to you.

You’ve seen him shirtless before, but this is different. More intimate. The light is low. His body more relaxed. His back is all lean—shoulders a little broader than you remember, arms flexed just enough to make you notice.

Maybe he has been getting stronger. Damn.

You huff, trying not to stare too hard. "You let me win."

He doesn’t look at you. Just finishes pulling the shirt over his head and tosses it in the makeshift hamper. "You won fair and square."

"Because you let me win." You repeat, more firmly.

He finally glances at you, exasperated. "Are you done? I’m ready to go to sleep."

You cross your arms. "Sure. Let’s go. We can talk about this in bed."

He frowns slightly. "What?"

You smirk sarcastically. "Do you wanna be the big spoon or little spoon?"

He grunts. "I don’t sleep like that."

"Well, hunching over the edge of a bed is bad for your back, Levi. Come lie down."

You climb into the stiff wooden frame of the bed, grabbing the one blanket and stretching out like you own it. "Come on. You’re gonna tell me why you threw the game. Let’s wind down."

He sits at the edge of the bed instead, facing away from you.

You groan, crawl across the frame, and throw your arms around his back. "This is me dramatically begging for answers."

You try to pull him backward. He doesn’t budge. Brick wall.

You struggle, kick your foot for emphasis, then give up, sighing as you stay draped around him.

"I’m mad at you." You say into his back.

“Noted.”

You frown, “Levi, I’m really mad at you.”

"I didn’t throw the damn game."

"Mhm. Sure you didn’t. Be honest with me." You lean your cheek against his shoulder. "I could have gone on playing that dumbass game forever."

He’s quiet for a second too long, "Yeah, but that’s why we had to stop."

You lift your head slightly. "Is that why you threw the game?"

Your eyes lower to his shoulder again. Then something catches your attention. A mark. New. Not one of his old scars. This was fresh.

"You’re hurt."

He shifts. "What?"

You run a fingertip lightly across the scar. "You have a mark here. What happened?"

He doesn't answer.

"Levi..."

He exhales slowly. "I was looking into something."

Your voice dips. "The Kuremi?"

Another silence. This one heavier. You know it’s true. Perhaps he was looking for them on your behalf, or looking to kill anyone with that name. It was all the information you gave him regarding the people who hurt you. Either way, he put his body on the line for you, and it just made you emotional.

“Levi I don't like this.” Your voice drops as your hand delicately moves to cover the scar on his arm. The miscalculation. “The scars I cause are the hardest to look at…”

You lean forward and press your lips to the scar on his shoulder. A kiss. Soft—barely there. As soon as you realize what you’ve done, your whole body tenses. Your heart goes still. Your stomach flips.

"I... I have to go." You speak barely above a whisper.

You scramble off the bed, panic rising. You can’t even look at him. You head toward the door, steps uneven, mind racing, but before you can leave the room, Levi grabs your wrist.

His grip is firm, but not rough. You freeze. Your heart slams in your chest. What could he possibly want?!

"How does running help?" He asks, voice low.

You shake your head. "I don’t know. I just..."

He pulls gently, enough to make you turn and face him. His eyes are sharp. Intense. Unreadable, but focused only on you.

"Either you meant to do it, or you didn’t. Which is it?"

You stare at him. There’s no teasing left. No game. Just him and you. Your heart pounding so hard it hurts.

"I don’t know." You whisper. "What do you want me to say?" You ask, barely above a whisper.

"The truth."

"I don't know what to say.” You admit. "I'm not sure. I've never been—" You stop yourself. Too raw. Too exposed. "Levi, I don't want you getting hurt on my behalf anymore. Please."

"I told you last time. I'll give this shit up when you do."

You shake your head. "This isn't your problem... you already have too many scars."

Your fingers drift before you realize what you're doing. They graze the scar on his upper arm—your fingers linger on it.

"You know how to make me stop.” He speaks again. "We can both put this shit to bed, but you want to keep hiding from me."

"Hiding from you?"

"Yeah." He steps away, moves toward the bed, and the light catches on the scar on his shoulder again.

You hate it. It practically has your name etched into the skin. You walk to him. Slowly. Quietly. You wrap your arms around him from behind. He stiffens. Wasn’t expecting that.

"You want to know who hurt me?" You murmur. "Well... there’s a long list of men."

His hands flex slightly at his sides. "I have time.” His voice is soft, but the edge beneath it is terrifying.

You close your eyes. Press your cheek between his shoulder blades. "There’s a long list... but there’s one at the top. One I need answers from."

He turns his head slightly, just enough to hear better. "Give me a name."

You swallow. "I don’t have a name. Just a face. Brown hair. Brown eyes. A scar under his left eye." You tighten your hold. "He sold me at an auction."

You feel it then. Not a flinch. Not a tremble. Just a cold shift of tension, like a wire pulled tightly to its limit. Levi says nothing. He listens. Memorizes every detail, then suddenly he's moving toward the dresser. He pulls open the drawer and grabs a shirt.

You blink. "Now?! Levi! You’re going now?!"

"I'm not waiting.” He’s already sliding the shirt over his head. "You want me to rest? I can't do that with this on my mind."

"No! Please!"

You're in front of him in a second, hands braced against his chest. You're not strong enough to stop him, but you try anyway.

"Please, Levi, don't. Please... If you go I go.."

He pauses. Eyes narrow. "What? I don’t want you out there.”

"Too bad! That’s the deal! Either we both go or we both stay!"

You stand your ground. Unflinching. The tension between you is a live wire now. A heartbeat away from snapping.

Then—the door creaks open.

Furlan peers inside, brow raised. "Are you guys alright back here?"

Before either of you can answer, Isabel pokes her head in behind him, eyebrows high. "Seriously? Just kiss already."

You don’t look away from Levi as your voice is quiet but steady. "Yeah, Levi... kiss already.".

The silence hangs between you like held breath. Why did you say that? The room is heavy with tension—the kind that doesn't settle in your chest, it expands, wraps around your ribs, steals your breath.

Furlan is eyeing the two of you like you’re wild animals circling a kill. Isabel right behind him, eyes sparkling with sleepy mischief.

The red head continues. "Get it over with. The tension in here is making my chest hurt."

Your chest rises and falls. You’re trying your best to ignore the side commentary. "You’re not going out tonight, Levi."

"You want me to rest? I can’t do that with this on my mind."

"Then go tomorrow.” You say quickly.

He narrows his eyes. "What?"

Fulan, seeing the situation for what it is, slowly closes the door again and leaves you to it. Isabel isn’t too happy about it, but they both still listen in.

You take a step forward. "Go tomorrow. Please. Don’t leave tonight, because… if you go, I’m going to follow you, and you can’t stop me."

Isabel gasps dramatically and whispers, "This is so romantic."

Furlan murmurs, "Shh. If they hear, they might get cold feet. Levi's been working up to this confession for six months."

Levi stands still for a second before his hands find your waist. Firm. Grounding. You feel the strength in him even though he’s still. "You think I can’t stop you?"

You grab his forearms. "I have no doubts that you can handle me physically, Levi… but you won't."

Your eyes lock. Deadlocked. The heat between you is unbearable. Neither of you speaks. Neither of you backs down.

You blink first. "Come to bed."

You grab his hands and remove them from your waist. You turn delicately toward the bed and climb in. That’s enough for tonight. You have exploited a weakness that perhaps he hadn’t realized was there. 

You settle with the thin blanket. It’s scratchy against your skin, but you pull it over your legs and curl into it anyway. It’s not comfortable, not in the way your own bed is, not with its silk-trimmed edges and cotton stuffing, but Levi’s scent is here—clean, like soap and leather, and something else… something you can't name. Something uniquely him.

He sits on the edge of the bed like always, boots off, and shirt ruffled from the dresser rush. His back faces you, a clean, rigid line in the dim lamplight.

You let your eyes shut. Not to sleep. Just to feel.

“Levi?” You break the silence.

His head doesn’t move. “What, brat?”

You smile a little. It always sounds like an insult from anyone else. From him, it almost feels like a nickname.

“Have you ever been in love?”

He stills. You hear the breath leave his nose. Not quite a sigh. Not quite not.

“I don’t know.”

Your eyes open slowly. That answer shouldn’t affect you the way it does… but it does. Your fingers curl in the blanket. You turn, shifting onto your side, giving him your back.

The ache comes out of nowhere. Not rage, not heartbreak. Not yet. Just the faint tightening in your chest. The irrational anger that he's maybe—maybe—thought of someone as more than just a friend.

“You don’t know?” You repeat, quieter. “That’s... weird.”

“You asked. I answered.” He says flatly. “Don’t dig if you don’t want the dirt.”

You blink at the wall. Your mouth pulls to the side. “Was she pretty?” You ask casually.

Levi’s silence stretches again.

You press your lips together. “She must’ve been impressive if she made you this weird about it.”

Still nothing.

“Was her skin like yours?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

He moves behind you. Not toward you. Just a subtle shift of posture. You can feel his eyes on your back.

“Did she talk a lot?” You ask.

He exhales through his nose. “You're the one talking a lot right now.”

You roll to your other side, facing him again. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been in love either.”

His brow twitches.

You continue, voice light, nonchalant. “I might be. I don’t see him often enough to tell.”

His jaw tenses as he knows you aren’t talking about him. You’re just being petty and cruel.

“But when I do see him.” You go on, smiling just slightly, “He makes me feel really safe. If I saw him more than once every few months, I think I’d know for sure.”

You’re smiling when you say it, but inside you're unraveling. Why the fuck did you say that? Why did you start this?

Levi shifts fully to face you now. His expression is blank, but his eyes burn. “You think that makes you in love?”

“What?”

He leans forward a bit. “You think seeing someone every few months and feeling safe when it’s convenient counts as love?”

You stiffen. “I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.” He snaps. “And you’re smarter than that.”

You sit up, blanket falling off your shoulders. “You don’t know what I feel.”

“I know you.” 

You scoff. “Really?”

“Does this man you think you’re in love with know you twitch your foot when you’re lying. That you hold your breath when you're scared. That you eat your food in even bites even though you think no one notices.”

Your mouth falls open just slightly. You look down, heart hammering so loudly it fills your ears.

He’s breathing harder now, but his face stays composed. Deadly calm. Dangerously calm.

“Does this guy know that you pretend to hate losing but actually hate winning because then the game’s over and you have to sit with whatever the silence leaves behind?”

You glance up. “Stop.”

“Does he know you pace around when you’re overthinking? That you pull the corner of your lip when you’re about to cry but won’t let yourself? That you make everything harder for yourself just so you don’t owe anyone anything?”

You grit your teeth. “Stop.”

“Maybe you’re in love with him. Maybe he makes you feel safe, but if he doesn’t know these simple things, then he’s not in love with you.”

Silence falls. Thick. Crippling. Your throat burns. Your fingers dig into the blanket. You try so hard not to look at him. Your poker face is shit. Always has been.

“It sounds like you’re saying…” Your voice is tight. Shaky. “Levi, you’re not in love with me.” You speak as if you’re telling him his own feelings rather than asking.

He doesn’t move. “Didn’t say I was.”

You meet his eyes. “But you’re not denying it either.”

He shifts toward you. Not far. Just enough. You can feel the heat of him, the tension in his jaw, the wild restraint in every line of his body. He’s close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss… but he doesn’t.

His lips hover near yours. His breath ghosts over your lips. You want to close the gap. You almost do, but you can’t. Neither of you. Why? There’s something wedging you apart.

Doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t get closer. Just holds you in that space, teetering. You don’t blink- you can’t.

He speaks, voice low and razor-sharp. “You need to think before you speak.”

His eyes drop to your mouth for less than a split second, but you notice. You feel like your heart’s going to split open.

You whisper, “I’m sorry…”

Finally he backs away and resumes his spot facing away from you. Something in this relationship has been stirred. The two of you had been towing the line for months, but things couldn’t remain the same anymore. You’d have to choose soon.

Be on the surface with Erwin, or stay underground with Levi?

[softcursechoso]

Somewhere, We Do: Ch. 7

JJK x Reader Nanami x Reader

Masterlist

GIF by theanomalouskid

MDNI! // 18+ // NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS!

Ch. 7 Warnings: Cockwarming, blowjob, utter chaos. Putting Nanami in a situation he'd never be in if it weren't for you!

Words: 9k+

LAMBDA PHI WINSLUTS

Nanami Residence : 11:38pm : Nishihinjuku

Nanami’s apartment was dim and warm, cocooned in that late-night haze where time doesn’t move right. The city glows quietly outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, but all you can feel is the weight of him behind you.

The two of you are spooning on his bed. Arms wrapped around your waist, lips soft at your nape, and—most pressing—his very much still-hard cock buried inside you.

“See?” You mumble sleepily, cheek mashed into his absurdly luxurious pillow. “This is comfortable, right?”

There’s a pause. He exhales against your shoulder. “If you like it.”

Your eyes snap open and you twist back a bit. “Wait…you don’t?”

“I’d rather there be a bit more movement.” He speaks plainly.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Kento, we went five rounds. Five. My pussy is sore.”

“That wasn’t a complaint.” He whispers in that smooth sexy voice. “I like being close to you. I was just making a comment.”

You pout. “Mhm. A comment.”

Then, just to be difficult, you shift your hips. Just a little. Enough to feel him twitch inside you like a loaded gun. Nanami lets out a sharp breath. You feel him throb.

“If you want to go to sleep like this, don’t do that again.” He warns, low.

“I didn’t do anything.” You whisper, already smiling.

“You wiggled.”

You grin wider, “I’m not the only one. I feel you squirming.”

“I am restraining myself.” He grits out.

You sigh, content. He’s still so deep inside you it feels more like a stake of claim than sex. Honestly, cockwarming seemed like a good idea at first—cute, intimate, but no one talks about the logistics. 

He’s huge. Like unholy levels of big. You're starting to think you made a critical miscalculation trying to sleep with this inside you. Still… you felt cozy, and a little sore in a good way. You feel safe.

Your eyes shut once more and you listen to the sound of both of your synchronized breathing. It’d been an entire month since the new year began, and your resolutions were coming together very well. Yeah, this was gonna be your year.

BZZZZT.

You twitch.

BZZZZT.

You grumble and ignore it.

BZZZBZZZBZZZBZZZ.

“What the fuck?” Your eyes widen swiftly. 

Your phone on the nightstand is going absolutely crazy. Goddamn, you just got comfortable.

Nanami hums sleepily. “Work?”

“I hope the fuck not- and honestly I don’t care if it is. I’m gonna turn this shit off.”

You reach out, snatch your phone from the nightstand, and squint at the bright screen.

You stiffen up a bit, “Oh no.”

Nanami lifts his head. “What is it?”

“Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit!”

He’s instantly alert, squeezing you a bit tighter. “What’s wrong?”

You scramble under the blankets, “Lambda Phi just touched down at Narita.”

He blinks. “…You’re going to need to explain that to me.”

“My sorority sisters are in Japan, and they’re about to ruin my perfect relationship!”

Nanami says nothing. Just stares. The silence is foreboding.

Then—your phone explodes again.

Group Chat: Lambda Phi Winslutsss 59 messages 🧨💋✨🍸

[Tiff 💋]: TAKE THE NEXT FEW DAYS OFF BITCH! THE LAMBDA PHI WINSLUTS HAVE LANDED! 🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬

[Lex 🍸]:Why are you hiding your new man?? Dick good but the face card declinesss?? WHERE IS HIS FACE?! You keep posting collarbones like you hiding him from the feds!

That’s right. You’d been teasing Nanami on social media. Just a soft launch of your relationship, but nothing crazy. A hand on your thigh. A picture of flowers. A hug without his face. Cute stuff!

[Jaz ✨]: Girl we saw his watch. That’s not a regular watch. That’s a “my Roth IRA is flourishing” watch. Don’t act mysterious bitch. We seen your ex’s.

[Di 🧨]: I know you’re not trying to hide him. Not after the last one used to MAIL you dick pics 💀 Reveal his face before we storm your workplace.

You clutch your phone. “I have to leave this country tonight.”

Nanami’s rubs your side, “What’s going on?”

“My sisters know where I work. They probably know which floor I work on. They once found out who my ex was dating based on the way her hair was dyed… They know.”

More texts hit like missiles:

[Tiff 💋]: I KNOW Kaya’s ass is in town too! I texted her asking if he was sexy. She said “lol bitch.” That means yes.

[Lex 🍸]: We brought sexy outfits. You know what kind. Kaya already approved. Your man better be ready to see you in mesh and nothing else!

[Jaz ✨]: Does he know about the Ex Who Shall Not Be Named™ Or the one who used to light candles before y’all had sex and kept fucking up the floor with wax😭

[Di 🧨]:

That asshole sent her a ring made from bones and said “now you’ll always be protected”

And y’all STILL fucked after that

[Lex 🍸]: Didn’t he have kids that weren’t his?! Like be so ffr!

[Tiff 💋]: No, that was the one can’t be named, like before the wax guy. Anyway we pullin up tomorrow! Hope you shaved!

“We’ve been doing so well Kento. We’ve been so happy. This might just tear us apart.”

The blonde sighed, “I see…”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“It won’t be that bad.”

“They’re demons. Beautiful, chaotic demons. They will eat you alive if they think I’m soft for you.”

He tilts his head, thoughtful. “Aren’t you?”

You gasp. “How dare you—”

BZZZZT.

[Kaya 🤡]: lmao you’re dead! It was nice knowing you bby!

Group Chat: Lambda Phi Winslutsss 🧨💋✨🍸

[Tiff 💋]: We better see this man by tomorrow or we’re doing a stakeout!

[Jaz ✨]: Does he know you used to cry and write poetry about that man you broke up with over the phone?

[Di 🧨]: Girl the new one better fight for you because weirdo with the kids would've beat the shit out of a man just for breathing next to you.

[Tiff 💋]: That’s not even a joke. He did do that.

You lie back down in despair. “I was having such a good day.”

Nanami is quiet for a long moment, “I’ll meet them.”

You jolt. “You will not.”

“I will.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“They’ll try to break us up if they don’t think you’re good enough for me.”

“I’ll never be good enough for you…” He smirks. “But I can handle them.”

You twist a bit to press a kiss against his lips. “You say that now, but wait until Tiff gets drunk and starts telling you about the time I threw up in a Prada bag and blamed it on Di.”

“...Did you?”

“...I panicked!”

He kisses the shell of your ear. “I’ll be fine.”

You whimper. “You won’t. You’re too calm. They smell calm and they attack it.”

BZZZZT.

[Lex 🍸]: Also tell Mr. Mystery he better wear gray sweatpants. It’s a test!

You groan in agony. Tomorrow’s gonna be hell.

Glasshaus Bar : 9:20pm : Roppongi

Tonight was the night. The final night of your relationship. Nanami wasn’t built like this! He was a hard working man, not a frat brother! He wasn’t about partying and being wild. God you were nervous. Whelp, your relationship had a good run.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and you immediately regret every single life choice that has led to this moment.

The rooftop bar is glowing—literally. The floor shimmers underfoot like spilled champagne, flickering under the low, warm lights. The skyline of Roppongi stretches behind glass-paneled railings, and Tokyo Tower lit up like a proud little rocket in the background. Music pulses, not too loud, just a throb beneath the chatter and laughter and the occasional clink of a glass. This place screams expensive, the kind of joint that doesn’t bother listing prices on the menu because if you have to ask, you don’t belong here.

You belong, but barely. You feel like you snuck in wearing a costume made of self-doubt.

You’re in a sleek, black bodycon dress that hugs every curve and then some, with a slit up the leg that had Kaya nodding in approval and Tiff yelling “YAAAS BITCH” through a voice memo. The neckline is tasteful but also very- present. You threw Nanami's jacket over it, both for warmth and the illusion of modesty. It smells like him—cologne, control, and money.

Speaking of—Nanami walks beside you like he was ripped straight from a GQ photoshoot.

He’s wearing a black turtleneck under a dark ash-grey overcoat that’s tailored within every inch of his body. His slacks are charcoal, his belt leather, his shoes shined like mirrors, and there’s a Rolex peeking out from under his cuff. 

He wore his glasses tonight. He didn’t have to do that. He never wore his glasses unless it was to bed. God help you, you almost had to drag him into a maintenance closet before you even reached the table.

His hand is wrapped firmly around yours. Warm. Reassuring. You wish you could say you looked composed. You do not.

“There they are.” You whisper, spotting the girls in the corner booth, lounging like queens in a throne room made of cocktails. 

Kaya is mid-laugh, Di is pointing aggressively at the DJ, Lex is sipping something neon-blue with ice that glows, and Tiff is throwing her head back while Jaz fans her cleavage with a dessert menu.

“Oh fuck.” You mutter. “They’re already up to something.”

Nanami hums, not at all concerned. “They look spirited.”

“Spirited is one word.”

You approach. Your heart is in your throat. As soon as they see you—Chaos.

“BITCHHHH!”

“THERE SHE IS!”

“IT’S THE MYSTERY MAN!”

“OH SHE’S FINE TONIGHT!”

“LOOK AT THAT SLIT!”

“IS THAT HIS JACKET?! OKAY GIRL!”

You don’t even get a full word in before you’re swallowed in perfume, squeals, and overly aggressive hugs. Your girls attack like sharks who smell friendship blood in the water.

Tiff is the beautiful Puerto Rican girl who has on a red silk dress that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. 

Jaz is the gorgeous half black half Mexican girl in a purple jumpsuit with cutouts that should get her arrested. 

Lex is hot the Italian girl wrapped in leather so tight you know that she had to use vaseline to squeeze in it. 

Di is the sexy Chinese girl wearing a mini green bandeau dress and very high heels.

Last, there’s Kaya, who’s wearing… a mesh top with pasties and a mini skirt.

They’re beautiful. They’re loud. They’re here to ruin your life.

You cling to Nanami’s hand like it’s a gonna save you.

“Ladies, this is Nanami Kento. Kento, these are my sins in human form—Tiff, Lex, Jaz, Di, and of course, you know Kaya.”

Nanami steps forward, and bows.

It’s not a little nod. It’s a proper, clean, gentleman’s bow “Pleasure to meet you all,” He speaks, calm and smooth. “Thank you for inviting me. I’ve heard a lot about you in the past few hours.”

Silence. Five seconds of stunned, blinking silence.

Tiff is the first to recover. “...You speak English?”

Nanami straightens. “Yes.”

Lex drops her drink. “FLUENTLY?!”

Nanami glances at you. “She didn’t mention?”

You gape. “You never spoke English to me!”

“You never asked.” He smiles softly.

Di removes her sunglasses dramatically. “Say something nasty in Japanese.”

Nanami blinks once. “Pardon?”

Lex nods, “Say something you’d whisper in her ear while she’s in a dress like that.”

Nanami pauses before leaning over to you and switching back to his native tongue. His voice is low enough for you to hear, “Should I actually say something or can I get away with just looking like I said something nasty?”

The girls lose their minds.

“OOOOOOOOHHHHH MY GODDDD!”

“NANAMI SAID WHAT?!”

“WHAT DID HE SAY?!  WHY DOES HE LOOK SO HORNY?!”

“YALL!!! KAYA!! KAYA YOU DIDN’T TELL US HER MAN WAS NASTY!”

Kaya is just cackling into her drink like a demon. She heard. She knows he didn’t say shit, but she’ll let y'all live.

You bury your face into Nanami’s coat. “I can’t be here. I have to die. You have to kill me.”

Nanami pats your back. “You will live. You’re very strong sweetheart.”

Tiff waves a manicured hand. “A man who’s hot, speaks like a Bond villain, and shows up to meet the girls? So far so good.”

Jaz leans forward. “Okay, real questions. What’s your credit score? Are you afraid of commitment? Are you allergic to shellfish?”

Nanami blinks. “Excellent. No. And no.”

Di grins, “Perfect. She found a goddamn unicorn.”

Lex, sipping her glowing drink suddenly has a sinister look on her face, “Let’s test him. Nanami. If you had to describe her in three words, what would they be?”

Nanami, without missing a beat: “Brilliant. Inimitable. Vivacious.”

The group is howling. “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Tiff slaps the table. “You really like her.”

Nanami finally cracks a small smile. “I do.”

And just like that—they’re in. Lambda Phi hazing shall commence, and Nanami was the new pledge!

You slide into the booth like a woman accepting her fate, sandwiched between Kaya and Nanami. Jaz sat beside him.

Tiff, Lex and Di are on the other side judging him with their eyes. A round of drinks shows up, you don’t remember ordering them, and before you know it the table is deep into a chaotic round of sorority-girl-style verbal combat disguised as bonding.

Tiff starts, “So when did you know you wanted to ruin her life with that dick?”

“Oh God Tiff! Don’t talk to him like that!” You nearly choke! “Please!”

Nanami doesn’t even falter though. “Probably when she asked me for my number.”

Kaya spits her drink. “Damn, that was the first time you met, wasn’t it?!”

Lex continues, “What’s your stance on threesomes?”

Nanami, sipping calmly. “I won’t lie, I’m a selfish man.”

Di raises her freshly plucked brow, “What’s your net worth?”

“Comfortable.”

Jaz looks over, “Do you manscape?”

“Absolutely.”

You’re just there. Watching. Dying. Possibly hallucinating.

You lean over to Kaya and whisper, “Why are they like this?”

Kaya sips her martini. “These are your friends. But shit, whatever test they’re running, he’s passing.”

You glance at Nanami. He’s got his arm on the back of the booth, relaxed, eyes scanning the table like he’s just so comfortable being here. There’s something about the way he doesn’t even break a sweat that makes you so fond of him.

Maybe he wanted to say something made him uncomfortable. Maybe he thought some questions were too personal, but he was clearly answering them for your sake. These ladies were your family. 

They may have been drunk sorority idiots, but they were also a nurse, a music producer, a hotel manager, and a small business owner. They were professionals outside of the sheer and glitter. They wanted to make sure you were good. Nanami knew that.

You murmur to Kaya again, “I’m going to marry him, I fucking swear.”

Kaya grins. “That’s why they’re here.”

You look at your girls—your girls, the terrifying queens of Lambda Phi—and you realize something insane.

They approve. Holy shit. He won… well, for now anyway.

The longer the night goes on, the more it becomes clear: Nanami Kento is unbothered.

Not just calm. Not just polite. Not even “holding it together.” No, this man is sitting in the middle of Lambda Phi with his legs crossed, one hand lazily draped along the back of the booth, sipping a whiskey like he’s hosting a fucking TED Talk on composure.

Spiraling!

They haven’t stopped grilling him since his ass hit the leather. Kaya’s just watching, sipping her drink, watching you unravel like this is prime-time television. Di has been trying to trap Nanami with hypotheticals. Jaz is threatening to find Nanami’s toxic ex because apparently everyone has one. Lex has her notes app open where she’s taking down red and green flags.

Tiff is just…smiling. That worries you.

The table gets quiet for a moment when the server arrives—a tall beauty in a white button-down and perfectly tailored black slacks.

“Did we wanna do another round over here? Also, I do need to put a card down for the tab. You guys can all split it up afterwards if you want, but I do need one to hold.”

Everyone immediately looks around like something’s up. Suspicion intensifies. You already know what’s about to happen. Nobody speaks. It’s a game of chicken.

“Oh please.” Nanami casually sets his drink down to reach for the card in his wallet. “It’s on me tonight. Don’t hold back.”

You freeze and the table explodes.

“OKAY MONEY.”

“OH HE’S SERIOUS!”

“YOOOOO, we getting bottle service!”

Jaz does a slow clap. “Not him casually sponsoring the chaos.”

You whisper to Kaya, “Shit… that’s my man?”

Kaya doesn’t even look away from her drink. “He is all yours, girl. Look how calm he is. That’s not a man trying to impress us. That’s a man who already knows he passed the test.”

All the ladies begin to order crazy shit now. Lemon Drops for the table. Espresso Martini. Sex on the Beach. Bloody Mary. Mojito. Gin and Tonic. Fuck it! Bottle service!

You stare at him in awe. “You’re too good for me.”

Tiff leans forward, eyes glinting. “So. She told you about her crazy ex, right?”

You launch out of your seat. “NO!” You wave your hands like you’re putting out a fire. “No no no no no! This is not a conversation that needs to be had! Kento, I promise there’s nothing to worry about, okay? He hasn’t been in my life in years! I already told you about him, remember? Very casual mention. It’s not even—like, it’s not that crazy.”

Yeah, you were definitely making it sound not crazy either, weren’t you?

Lex raises an eyebrow. “Can you fight, Nanami?”

You briefly put your hands over your face. “He doesn’t need to fight! There is no reason. He’s fine. Kento, you’re good. It’s good. We’re good.”

Jaz sips her drink slowly. “Okayyyy…”

Tiff leans back, satisfied. “Just making sure you were informed.”

Nanami, still relaxed, “The cult leader or the cheater?”

You pause. You should lie. You really should.

“…The cult leader…” You admit, already regretting it. “We may have done the long-distance thing for a little bit during my freshman year, but it wasn’t even—like—it didn’t count, okay? It was less of a relationship, and more of two toxic people trying to let each other go... I can’t have this conversation.”

Tiff gasps, hand to chest. “Bitch, I know I didn’t hear you try to downplay that cursed novella of a relationship.”

Jaz throws her arm over Nanami’s shoulders. “He tried to get her to drop out of Duke and come back to Japan every day. She’d open her phone like, ‘huh, thirty missed calls, wonder who that could be?’”

“It wasn’t that bad.” You groan. “I’m gonna pull my hair out. Every single strand. Gone.”

Di slams her drink down. “He didn’t speak a lick of English, but the second he heard one of us talking in the background telling her to hang up- he knew the word monkey real quick.”

Jaz nods, “Oh fuck! He did used to call us monkey’s! Piece of shit—”

“PLEASE!” You plead, “I am begging you. We have to stop talking about him.”

Lex is just nodding sagely. “He had that energy though. I could see the allure, but that shelf life was well past expired before she even got to Duke.”

Nanami raises an eyebrow. “He sounds emotionally unbalanced.”

You whisper, “Kento, please. Don’t engage. That’s how they get you.”

Di doesn’t skip a beat. “He beat the shit out of your last boyfriend when y'all visited Japan that summer before sophomore year.”

You gasp. “That was not my fault!”

Jaz shrugs. “Well, he cheated on her, so it ended up being a good thing.”

Tiff raises her glass. “True. Also? That man worked at a bowling alley and wore basketball shorts to brunch. Ew, that wasn’t the vibe.”

You look at Nanami like please understand my life is a sitcom.

Nanami just nods thoughtfully. “I appreciate the context, but I’m not concerned.”

The girls blink like, really?

Jaz looks at him, “You’re not worried?”

He shakes his head thoughtfully. “I can protect myself and her. Also, I don’t make a habit of comparing myself to cult leaders or cheaters.”

Tiff slaps the table. “OHHHHHHH!!!”

Lex updates her notes app. “+2 for that one.”

Di laughs, “You’re a menace. I like you.”

Kaya leans over and whispers, “He gets it.”

You slump in your seat, face buried in Nanami’s coat. “I need more alcohol. I need all the alcohol. I’ll never make it through this night.”

As if summoned, the bottle service arrives. It’s theatrical.

A glowing tray with sparklers. Ice buckets. Platinum bottles of liquor you didn’t even know existed. The server sets it down with a flourish.

Everyone screams and Nanami just sips his drink like, yes, bring me your finest chaos.

The table turns into a fever dream of toasts, clinks, refills, and accusations.

Di starts up again, “What’s your type, Nanami?”

“Apparently, ex sorority girls with no fear and questionable exes.”

Lex nods, “Touché.”

Tiff, always the shit starter of shit starters asks a question. No, asks the question. “Are you in love?”

Nanami looks at you. Like really looks at you as if taking you in. Not like he’s considering his answer. He already knows it. Perhaps he was just gauging to see if you’d be okay with it.

“Yes.”

You gasp, “Kento…”

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”

“OH MY GOD HE SAID IT!”

“KAYA HOLD HER SHE’S FOLDING!”

Jaz cackles, “Somebody get her a cold rag!”

Tiff fans herself with a napkin. “I love an honest man.”

You continue to look up at Nanami, your face on fire. “You…meant that?”

He nods, steady as stone. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

You whisper, “I’m gonna make you say it again to me… but in a more private setting.”

He smirks. “I’m counting on it.”

Before you knew it, the bottle service had turned the table into a miniature nightclub. There’s no longer music in the background—the table is the music. Girls are dancing in their seats, drinks are being poured like shots are going extinct, and everyone’s voice is somehow louder than everyone else’s. There’s a plate of untouched edamame sweating under the lights. Lex is waving a sparkler around like she’s conjuring spirits. Tiff is deep in a drunken theory about astrology.

Even with all of this, Nanami is still flawless. He hasn’t nervously adjusted his clothes, hasn’t even sweated, despite being surrounded by five bombshells yelling questions like it’s a game show.

He’s answering everything. Smoothly. Calmly. Completely unfazed. You’re still waiting for the fazed part. He’d have every right. Seemed like you were the only one who brought red flags to this outing. 

Lex fans herself with a napkin. “Why are you like this? Do you take suave pills in the morning?!”

Nanami shrugs, “I have a structured morning routine.”

Di sighed, “Whew. This man got stock options and audacity. I love it.”

You can’t take it anymore. You’ve been pressed up against him for over an hour, his thigh flush with yours, the clean scent of his cologne driving you wild. He hasn’t once broken a sweat. You want to fuck him.

So you do what any sorority-raised menace would do. You pull out your phone. Slide into his texts, and start sexting him.

You: Keep talking like that and i’m gonna slide under the table and make this a 5-star experience. Don’t play with me Kento. I wanna sit on it right now 💦😈

You glance at him from the corner of your eye.

He’s reading. The tiniest twitch in the corner of his mouth betrays him. The only sign.

Then he replies.

[Nanami] 🍯📈: Is that so? Be careful what you wish for. You can barely walk from earlier. Do you need help remembering how deep I was?

You clench your thighs under the table. He did not just say that. You hide your face behind your phone like a coward.

Kaya peeks over your shoulder and snorts. “Are y’all sexting?!”

You shush her violently. “He started it!”

“No, you did.” She laughs, sipping from a flute of something dangerously pink.

You type faster, breath caught in your throat.

You: I could ride you in this booth. Keep answering their questions and let me bounce

like a good girl 👅🍆

Nanami doesn’t even flinch. He’s currently answering Tiff’s question about love languages.

“Mine’s acts of service.” He speaks calmly, eyes flicking to you for half a second. “And words of affirmation. That’s how I give. Receiving- I think quality time and physical touch.”

You bite your lip. You know exactly what his acts of service are.

[Nanami] 🍯📈: Go ahead. Climb on. I won’t stop you. Or would you rather me take you where they can’t hear?

You nearly knock over your drink.

“Girl, are you okay?” Jaz asks, half-laughing, trying to adjust her cutout jumpsuit.

“I’m fine!” You squeak.

You bury your face in your hands. You are a shadow of yourself. A ghost.

Meanwhile, Nanami is texting you again.

[Nanami] 🍯📈: Be a good girl. Finish your drink. If you keep teasing, I’ll finger you in the car on the way home too.

You’re barely hanging on. The drinks, his voice, the way he says things like “be a good girl” like it’s legally binding—you are a heartbeat away from climbing into his lap and making the girls learn a very different kind of lesson tonight.

Kaya leans over and whispers, “Do you need a bucket?”

You hiss, “I need an exorcist.”

You gotta do something with all of this energy. You can’t just sit here being horny. You need to act you need to-

“Dance!” You stand up abruptly. “Let’s dance bitches! We are Lambda Phi! We don’t just sit in a booth all goddamn night! On your fucking feet!”

“THERE SHE IS!” 

“SAY LESS!”

“DAMN RIGHT BITCH! LET’S GO!”

Maybe you did want to do something with this energy. Maybe you just wanted to push Nanami’s buttons a little. Hard to tell. Impossible to tell, actually. Either way, it worked, and the ladies were showing up.

The dance floor was a fever dream—low lights, swirling colors, bass that thumps through your ribcage like it’s trying to replace your heartbeat. The rooftop bar has transformed from a classy Tokyo skyline lounge to something closer to a house party in hell. That was just the Lambda Phi charm of it all.

Someone popped a bottle of champagne and is spraying it into the air like it’s a graduation. Tiff is on her third lap around the perimeter just scoping for men she can break. Di is twerking on a stranger. Jaz is grinding on Kaya, and Kaya’s just laughing.

You? The ring leader? Oh yeah, you’re putting on a show. Not for the girls. Not for the DJ or anyone else at this lounge. For Nanami.

Your dress clings even tighter as you dance. The slit high enough now to expose the curve of your thigh every time you move. You're not just dancing—you’re moving like a threat. You roll your hips to the beat, bend low, and toss your hair. You slide your hands up your own thighs and arch your back just enough to make a man lose his mind.

Every few seconds, you glance back at the booth like this wasn’t all for him in the first place.

Nanami’s watching you like you just stepped out of a dream he’s been having for months. One hand on his drink. One arm stretched across the backrest. Legs spread, slacks straining, jaw clenched behind that slight smirk he wears when he’s trying very hard to behave.

You drop it lower—just for him. Your ass to the floor, slow grind back up, hips rolling. You’re illegally sexy.

You lock eyes with him. He deserves a little treat, right? Just a little teeny flash. 

A twist of your hips, a swirl of fabric, and just for a second, he sees the truth. No panties. Just a fresh wax and a wicked little smile when you turn back around like you didn’t just expose a forbidden glimpse of heaven to a man barely holding on.

Nanami’s glass doesn’t make it back to his lips. His hand tightens. His jaw flexes. You feel that flood of power hit your spine. You are so chaotic. You are every bad decision he’s about to make. You’re so wet just knowing how turned on you make him.

The music thumps on. You let Jaz spin you, you grind with Kaya for a second, you twerk on Lex’s thigh just to be messy—but you keep looking at him.

Ugh, you can’t take it anymore.

You excuse yourself from the dance floor, cheeks flushed, body humming, dress sticking to your skin like a second layer. You strut back toward the booth like you’re walking down a runway to your doom.

Nanami’s eyes never leave yours.

You slide back into the booth leaving no room for personal space. No, you are in the intimate space now.

“Kento.” You whisper, biting your lip, “You’re hard.”

He doesn’t even pretend. His voice is low, almost strained. “Help me out here.”

You glance around. The girls are still on the dance floor, lost in their own world of ass and tequila.

You kiss him, slow and dirty. One hand on his chest, the other sliding between his thighs. You feel it—long, thick, throbbing. You palm him gently through his pants and feel him twitch, already rock solid.

You pull back, lips swollen. “Tell me what you want me to do… and I’ll do it.”

His eyes are pure heat. “You already know what I want.”

You tilt your head. Innocent. Dangerous. “Head? A quickie? Something filthy?”

His hand slides up your thigh under the slit of your dress, and he leans close, lips against your ear.

“I want you in the bathroom. On your knees. Eyes on me.”

You shudder. Your clit pulses.

You nod slowly. “Let’s go.”

You stand. Smooth your dress. Grab a champagne flute like you’re just going for a refill. Whisper to Kaya as you pass, “Bathroom. If anyone asks, I slipped.”

She grins wide with a loud whisper, “Ahh- I see you!”

You walk calmly toward the hallway, heels clicking, heart racing. The bar’s bathroom is tucked around a corner. Dim hallway. Just out of sight.

You slip inside. It’s elegant. Marble everything. Clean as hell for a bar. It's a single room, so you don’t have to worry about anyone barging in so long as you lock the door.

Thirty seconds later, the door swings open. He enters and locks it behind him.

He’s standing in front of you, broad shoulders taking up the dim, moody light of the upscale bathroom. The marble walls gleam. There’s a faint scent of soap, and whatever the hell cologne he uses that turns your brain to fog. 

He looks down at you with hunger carved into every inch of his face, his slacks unbuttoned, his cock thick and heavy in his hand already. He knows you two have to make this quick.

You’re already lowering yourself, knees pressed into cold tile, dress hiked up around your thighs. Eyes locked in on your man.

“You sure?” He murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek.

Your mouth is already opening. Your tongue slides out, slow, deliberate. “Mhm.”

You grip his thighs and lean forward, tongue lapping at the flushed tip first, tasting the bead of pre-cum. 

He sucks in a sharp breath above you, hand twitching in your hair. He’s gripping delicately. He knows he can’t mess it up too much since the night isn’t over yet.

You swirl your tongue around the head, slow and teasing, lips gripping softly, eyes locked on his face. His jaw clenches.

Then you wrap your lips around him fully—and he groans. Deep. Guttural. Like he’s been waiting for this.

You take him deeper. The heat of him presses against your tongue, the weight of him impossibly thick. You bob your head slowly, building a rhythm, saliva already coating your lips. You stroke the base with your hand while your mouth works the rest, your other hand bracing on his thigh as he starts to pant.

“Fuck.” He speaks under his breath, voice low and dangerous. “It feels good.”

You pop off just long enough to smirk. “This is only the quick version. Gotta take my time on you at home.”

Yes, you’d given him a blowjob before, but you never gave him that real work. There were a lot of surprises to be unwrapped still in this relationship.

You suck him back in, deeper, your throat stretching. You gag a little, eyes watering, but you don’t stop. He hisses, hips jerking just slightly.

You use both hands now—one pumping his shaft while the other cups his balls, your mouth working him like you’ve trained for this.

The room is filled with obscene, wet sounds—your mouth, your moans, his groans, the occasional ragged breath when he can’t hold it in anymore.

“You’re gonna make me cum soon.” He warns, voice gravelly and his control slipping.

That only spurs you on. You go faster. You hollow your cheeks once more, suck him hard and deep- your eyes fluttering as your jaw starts to ache.

He growls, “Shit—don’t stop—”

He bucks his hips forward and you take him as deep as you can, until your throat tightens, tears streaking your face as you choke just a little, the sounds loud and messy, and perfect.

Then, he surprises you with a massive explosion. Hot. Thick. Deep down your throat.

You don’t flinch. You swallow every last drop. Eyes still on his, hands gripping him, sucking him until he groans again and his thighs twitch and he finally pulls away.

You stand up once more breathing hard, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, then licking your lips like you just finished dessert.

Nanami looks relieved, but also like he could go for an encore. Hair slightly tousled, breathing hard, his entire body pulsing with tension. He drags a hand down his face.

“That was…” He exhales, staring at you like the goddess you are. “…incredible.”

You smirk, licking a final drop from your lip. “Never underestimate the quick blowjobs.”

He tucks himself back in slowly, eyes still on you. “I need to taste you now.”

You blink. “What?”

He steps closer. “I want to eat your pussy until your legs shake. Until you scream. I want to take care of you.”

You’re already shaking. Your thighs rub together.

“You don’t have to—” you begin.

“I want to.” He cuts you off. “I’d hate it if I were the only one who came. That’s not how I like to end things.”

You take a deep breath, heart racing, body soaked. Your whole lower half is pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

“I want to keep going.” You whisper. “But the girls… they’ll notice if I’m gone too long.”

He frowns. “So?”

You laugh softly. “Kento! If we start getting frisky, I won’t be leaving this bathroom for at least another hour. That’s too long.”

He steps closer, grabs your waist, pulls you against him, his lips against yours. “What’s wrong with that?”

You melt. Full-on melt. He kisses you slow and filthy, like he’s got all night. You feel him harden again, just a little, against your thigh.

“You’re supposed to be the voice of reason.” You break the kiss, panting. “Baby, come on. Save it for later.”

Another kiss. Soft. Lingering. Then another. This one rougher. Your lips are tingling. Your thighs are aching.

“I’m gonna make you cum at least three times before bed tonight. You hear me?”

You grin. “Looking forward to it.”

One last kiss and you’re pulling away, breathless, dress sticking to your ass, hair wild, mouth swollen.

You step out and peek around. All clear. You walk back toward the bar like you didn’t just commit a felony-level blowjob.

And then you see them—The girls. Okay, maybe you were gone a little longer than you thought, because what is this circus?

Jaz is laying flat across the bar counter while a very hot bartender pours tequila straight into her mouth. Tiff and Di are doing synchronized body shots off each other’s thighs. Lex is whispering something dangerous into a guy’s ear who looks like he owns oil. Kaya?

Kaya is making out with some girl in a fishnet bodysuit and laughing between kisses like she knew this woman her whole life.

You blink. “Jesus Christ.”

Nanami appears at your side, cool as ever.

You lean toward him and whisper, “We’re never getting out of here alive.”

Tiff screams at you. “GET OVER HERE BITCH! THE NIGHT AIN’T FUCKIN’! It’s… c’mere!”

Di slurs her speech just as bed, “You look sober as fuck girl! Lemon Drop my bitch!”

Lex looks away from her man, “Listen to your mother! Gedda Lemon Drop!”

Jaz nods, “Two Lemon Drops and a Long Isl- Long I- Long Island… you know what the fuck I’m saying!”

You exhale triumphantly before looking over at Nanami once more. “Kento, please… I beg of you. Look away. I’m about to unleash my inner sorority girl.”

Oh yes. Unleash you did, and due to that, the rest of the night unfolds like a movie montage. Well, if the director was drunk, horny, and armed with a bottle of Patrón and glitter.

1:04 AM — The Takeover

Jaz is still splayed across the bar like a living goddess. Legs crossed, her glittery clutch dangling from one finger as the bartender hooks her up with free liquor. Di is cheering it on.

Tiff has someone’s boyfriend by the collar and is whispering what must be a felony into his ear. The girlfriend doesn't even care. She’s filming.

Lex has somehow negotiated with the DJ to switch up the playlist, and the next thing you know—boom, that causes all of your girls to lose it.

Kaya, now straddling the lap of fishnet girl, looks over her shoulder and shouts, “BITCH IT’S YOUR SONG!”

You scream. “IT’S MY FUCKING SONG!”

Nanami watches from the booth like a man observing a wildfire—detached, impressed, a little concerned for the surrounding property.

1:22 AM — The Dancing Escalates

You’re in it now. You’re in the middle of the dance floor, hips snapping, dress riding high. Your ass finds Kaya, then Di, then you spin and drop it low so hard the floor shakes. A circle forms. 

Someone yells “SHE ATE THAT.” Your girls are cheering you on like they’re your biggest fan, and honestly, they might be.

Lex appears with a bottle of champagne and no glasses. She pours it into your mouth.

You choke-laugh and swallow and scream, “Who gave you that?!”

Tiff laughs, “I took it!”

Nanami still hasn’t moved. He’s still in the booth, legs spread, water cup in hand, watching you like a man planning to defile you in twelve different ways. You feel his eyes like hands.

You wink at him.

He raises his glass.

1:38 AM — The Side Quests Begin

Kaya is now kissing two girls and has a third fanning her with a bar napkin. She waves at you mid-kiss like she’s checking in on her table at a restaurant.

Jaz starts playing a game of "Two Truths and a Shot" with a group of Korean tourists. She’s already got one of their numbers. Tiff heckles him.

Di challenges two random men to a body shot competition. She wins by intimidation alone. One man thanks her and immediately follows her around like a lost puppy.

Lex disappears for fifteen minutes and returns with a hookah from God knows where.

“Where did you even find that?” You yell.

“I manifested it!” She replies, exhaling a cloud of cotton candy smoke.

1:55 AM — Chaos Intermission

You all end up on the couches in the lounge section, laughing, sweaty, makeup smudged in the hottest possible way.

Nanami sits among you like a king on his throne, an arm slung over the back of your seat while you curl into him like a little drunk menace.

“Kento thinks we’re crazy!” You whine.

“Not at all.” He says in that smooth-ass voice.

Di kicks her heels up on the table. “She warned you.”

Jaz leans over, steals a sip of your drink, and hands it back with no explanation. “You’re doing great though, king. We like you.”

Tiff raises a toast. “To Nanami, the first man we didn’t threaten with legal action.”

You giggle and nuzzle into his neck. “You’re handling it like a champ.”

He kisses your temple. “I liked this. It was nice.”

You grin. “You mean you like watching me shake ass in public.”

“Correct.”

2:20 AM — Bar-Wide Takeover

At this point, you’ve managed to rope the entire bar into a group dance. The DJ is fully on board. He’s yelling out names. “KAYA ON THE LEFT! DI WITH THE STEP! TELL ‘EM WHO STARTED IT—LAMBDA PHI!!!”

Someone in a button-up and loafers is on all fours letting Lex pour a shot down his back. You don’t even ask.

A bottle of tequila is being passed like communion. You, Tiff, and Jaz do a synchronized slut drop to the beat while the crowd chants like it’s a sport.

Nanami? Back in the booth. Still watching you, but he’s smiling. It’s subtle, slight, but it’s there- and it’s real.

2:48 AM — The Wrap-Up

Everyone is fading.

Kaya’s lipstick is smeared. Jaz is massaging her feet and humming some song from 10 years ago. Tiff is leaning on Di and acting like she’s not tired. Lex is… trying to fight a plant?

You’re back on Nanami’s lap. Dress rumpled, lips swollen, your phone filled with blurry photos and chaotic videos.

You whisper in his ear, “Still wanna ruin me when we get home?”

He presses a kiss to your cheek. “Only if you want to after you sober up.”

You moan softly, then sigh. “Give me like… a Gatorade and a five-minute nap.”

“I don’t know about you bitches, but I could eat right now. I want a burger.” Tiff grumbled with her eyes shut.

There was a communal groan amongst the ladies. Like she said some magical word.

Lex gripped the “neck” of the plant, “Isn’t there some place 24 hours around here?”

You raise your hand, “There’s this place called MooBite. It’s like upscale but for sleazy business men who get drunk too late. It’s like a five minute walk.”

The collective groans make their rounds, but the ladies are on their feet, and everyone is being guided by their leader Nanami.

MooBite Burger & Shake : 3:10am : Roppongi

Sleek black tile floors, chrome counter tops, neon cow mascots giving you a thumbs-up from every direction—it’s ridiculous in the best way. The place smells like fried heaven and desperation. It's late, and it is packed with other drunk people looking for something greasy.

The moment your crew stumbled through the doors—heels clicking, extensions hanging by a thread, lashes halfway unlatched—every head turns. Not because you’re loud but because you look like a photoshoot gone feral.

Nanami is the only one who still looks together. Turtleneck crisp. Coat still pressed. Glasses unbothered. Meanwhile, you’re clutching his hand with glitter on your collarbone and possibly Di’s fake lash stuck to your neck.

After you order, the six of you somehow manage to cram yourselves into a corner booth meant for four, plus one very lucky stockbroker who now has your entire weight on his lap.

You wiggle on top of Nanami with zero shame, your dress halfway up your thighs and your legs hanging off the edge like you’re a baby.

“I swear if I don’t eat a cow in five minutes I will fade from this plane of existence.” You announce.

Kaya’s laying under the table. No explanation.

Jaz is stealing fries off a neighboring table and whispering about some naughty favors she will most certainly not follow through on.

Tiff is trying to do math on how long it’ll take to cook each patty and bring it out.

Thankfully she didn’t have to calculate too long. One of the employees came out with your tray of food and set it on the table.

“I want two double MooBites.” You slur, slapping the table with conviction, “With extra pickles, and if they don’t come with pickles, I will cry.”

“Girl, you already ordered that.” Di mutters. “He’s just dropping off the food.”

You turn to Nanami as you reach to grab a burger for each hand. “Baby don’t judge me.”

He just looks at you like a man in love. “I’m not judging you. You look happy.”

You moan around a mouthful of food. “I’m in love with cheese.”

Jaz looks between you two. “That man is so in love with you. Look at how he’s just letting you chew like that. With your eyes closed. Like a rat in bliss.”

Di nods sagely, dipping her fries in two sauces simultaneously. “He’s not even flinching when she bites into both burgers at once. That’s love.”

You dramatically rest your head on Nanami’s shoulder. “I’m disgusting.”

He gently wipes ketchup from your chin with a napkin. “You’re beautiful.”

“Stop.” You speak with two burgers against your lips. “You can’t be sexy and nice. That’s too much! I’m overwhelmed!”

Lex smiles, “He wipes your chin and eats your pussy. You won.”

Tiff sits up straighter, which is saying a lot. Here she goes again. “So Nanami…has she told you about the candle incident at Duke?”

You freeze mid-bite. “No. NO. NoooOOOooOOoo—”

Nanami tits his head, curious. “Candle incident? Does this have anything to do with the candle loving ex?”

“Ah! You remembered! Yes! She tried to do ‘romantic ambiance’ with dollar store candles in her room. Set off the fire alarm. Whole house had to be evacuated, and we all had to run out as is.”

Jaz jumps in, “She was in lingerie!”

Di nearly choked from the memory, “And barefoot. In the rain.”

“This is the second fire-related story I heard about you.” Nanami looks at you, amused.

You mumble through your bite. “I was young. And horny. And romantic. And shut up Tiff!”

Lex nearly drops her soda laughing. “Tell him about the time you made a PowerPoint presentation on why that one TA should date you.”

“Oh my God.” You groan. “Kento, let me first start by saying it was a dare gone too far.”

Tiff grins. “She called it: ‘Ten Reasons We’d Be Iconic.’ Number 4 was ‘We both like espresso.’”

Nanami chuckles softly, warm hand rubbing your thigh. “You’ve always been this bold?”

You pout. “I thought you’d leave me if you knew I was a disaster.”

He smiles. “ One man’s disaster is another man’s paradise.”

There’s suddenly a collective, “Awwwwww!”

You melt into him like a microwaved marshmallow.

Now Tiff gets serious. She slams her paper cup down, soda sloshing out the top. “Okay. For real though.”

Everyone quiets.

Tiff looks at Nanami with wine-blurred focus. “I like you. But real talk—this is our girl.”

Di nods, mouth full. “Our sister.”

Tiff jabs a fry in the air for emphasis. “She’s loyal. She’s fine as hell. She’s funny. She’s crazy, yeah, but like… in a manageable way.”

Lex raises a brow. “Mostly.”

Tiff waves her off. “You got a good one. A real one. So just like… y’know. Don’t be dumb.”

Lex swirls her milkshake with a straw. “What Tiff is trying to say is—please take care of her.”

Jaz leans in. “This bitch is too strong-willed to admit it, but her heart’s fragile. Like glass. Handle with care.”

You blink rapidly, drunk emotions threatening to pour out your eyeballs. “Awwww. Guys.”

Kaya, who you almost forgot about, speaks from under the table. “We love you, bitch.”

Nanami nods. “I understand, and I will.”

He squeezes your hip, looking around the table. “Thank you for trusting me with her.”

Tiff leans back, satisfied. “Mmmm. Yeah. Okay..”

Jaz frowns, “And if you fuck up?”

Di sucks her teeth, “We have shovels.”

Lex grins, “And legal knowledge.”

You wave your half eaten burgers around, “Okay! That’s enough. He’s not gonna fuck up!”

Nanami whispers, dry. “This is very reassuring.”

You’re full. You’re drunk. You’re in love, and you’re absolutely gonna fuck this man into a oblivion when you get home. But first?

“Anyone wanna split a MooPie?” You lick your lips.

Lex groans. “Bitch you’re a machine.”

Nanami kisses your temple. “She’s alright.”

MooBite Burger & Shake : 4:04am : Roppongi

The greasy-salty joy of MooBite is fading into the haze of soft yawns and leaning heads. Burgers have been demolished. Milkshake cups are empty except for the sad, rattling remains of melted ice and half-hearted whipped cream. Fries are scattered like confetti, and someone—probably Lex—drew a penis in ketchup on a tray.

Everyone is leaning back like they’ve just emerged from battle, and in many ways, they have. 

Tiff stretches with a groan. “Shit. We gotta catch the train to Kyoto in like… four hours.”

You blink. Mid-sip of your post-burger soda. “What?! I thought y’all told me to take the next few days off?”

Di shrugs, dabbing her lip with a napkin like she’s at high tea. “Yeah, that was before we met Nanami. Had to make sure the man wasn’t a demon in disguise.”

Tiff flicks a fry at you. “Bitch, our vacation is not about you. You got your own storyline now.”

You laugh, nearly spitting soda. “Okay, okay—but you sure did text me fresh off the plane threatening to ruin my life.”

Jaz waves her hand dismissively. “Kidding! That was obviously a test. Had to rattle the cage a bit. Make sure our girl wasn’t out here cuddling with a serial killer.”

Nanami, calm as ever, simply nods. “Reasonable.”

Tiff smiles, “See?! Look at this rational ass man.”

Lex peers at her phone, squinting. “Shit. Are the trains even running right now?”

Nanami sets down his drink and adjusts his glasses. “I would never let you ladies catch the train at this hour. Let me call a cab for you.”

That’s it. That’s the moment.

Tiff clutches her chest dramatically. “And you said you don’t have a brother, Nanami?!”

Lex points a fry at him. “For real. Don’t be selfish with the DNA. There’s a crisis out here.”

He offers the faintest smile and pulls out his phone to order a car.

Fifteen minutes later, a sleek black cab pulls up to the front of MooBite. The engine purrs like money. The driver steps out, straightens his jacket like he just remembered this might be a high-value transport.

The girls are slow to rise—drunk and full, boots unbuckled and lashes askew—but they’re up.

You hug each one like they’re being deployed. Jaz kisses your cheek, Di bites your ear for some reason, Tiff smacks your ass, and Lex gives you a one-armed hug while texting the entire time.

“Text me when you reach the hotel.” You speak, mom voice on.

“Only if you promise not to die from stockbroker sex.” Jaz slurs.

“No promises.” You shout after her.

Nanami steps forward before they pile in and speaks to the driver in crisp Japanese, low and firm: “Please take care of them. They’re family.”

The girls don’t understand Japanese at all, but they do recognize the word family and they just know he said something sweet.

Tiff peeks her head out of the window, fake crying. “Awwww! NANAMI!”

Di reaches out and grabs your face. “If you dump him, we will exorcise you.”

You wave like you’re seeing them off to college, still giggling, heart warm and full and maybe a little hungover already.

The car pulls off and disappears into the city blur. You exhale, finally.

Nanami presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Let’s head home.”

You turn to see Kaya leaning against the MooBite window, still texting, one heel in her hand, hair out of place, face glowing like she just made out with a stranger in a bathroom—which she honestly might have.

Nanami raises an eyebrow. “Kaya. You need a ride home too, right?”

She bats her lashes, mock-sweet. “Oh, I couldn’t ask.”

He levels her with a look that says Don’t even start. “Come on, Kaya. Let’s get you home.”

She clutches her chest and giggles. “Okay, big money. I’m coming.”

You’re howling! What was that?

“Don’t encourage her.” You snicker as Kaya scampers up next to you both, already humming a club remix of a nursery rhyme.

The three of you stroll out toward the street, the wind cool, the night finally catching up to your skin. You’re wrapped in Nanami’s jacket again, arms looped around his waist like a blanket. He’s warm. Solid. Steady.

You peek up at him. “Did you have fun?”

He looks down at you with a soft smile as he rubs your back. “I did.”

You narrow your eyes. “Like… actually fun? You’re not just being nice?”

He gives a soft laugh. “Sweetheart, if I didn’t enjoy myself, I would be honest.”

You smile wider. “So you’re not gonna break up with me?”

He stops walking, pulls you closer, and leans down until his lips are against your temple. “You’d have to leave me first. I’m here. You hear me?”

You lean against him, bury your face in his chest, sighing like you just exhaled every burden you ever carried.

Kaya’s walking ten steps ahead of you like she didn’t just hear the most romantic thing of all time. She shouts, “Can y’all hurry up? I have work tomorrow. Actually, don’t we all have work tomorrow?”

You laugh, hug Nanami tighter, and whisper into his shirt, “Welcome to the madness, baby.”

He smiles, steady and soft. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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[softcursechoso]

The Office Affair: Recess

HIGURUMA X FEM READER NSFW

MDNI! // 18+ // NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS!

Masterlist

Words: 11. 8k+

Contains: Foreplaaaay! Fingering, squirting, oral sex, sucking tits, making out, pillow talk, unprotected sex, creampie, probably a lot more that I'm willingly forgetting. Idk man- this shit is filthy.

Notes: Ya girl thought this story was a one off! I thought I was done with this goddamn story, but here I am to smut another day. I am way more in love with this character than I thought.

I genuinely could only proof-skim this because I get so embarrassed about how nasty my writing is. This one is for my nasty girlies! Enjoyyyyy!

Latexed Vixens Gentleman’s Club : 11:58pm : Back Room

Far from home is where you are. Work. Latexed Vixens’ back dressing room had no trace of comfort, not even a whisper of serenity. It was pure, unapologetic chaos. The fluorescent lighting overhead flickered faintly, humming in that miserable, migraine-inducing way. The walls were painted in peeling black gloss that once probably seemed edgy, but now just looked like a bad idea and smelled faintly of spilled hairspray and sour perfume.

The mirrors were lined with cracked vanity bulbs, a few of them dim or completely burnt out. Lipstick smears. Glitter stuck to everything—the countertops, the floor, the walls, your skin. Old lashes curled up like dead spiders.

And the smell? A cocktail of sweat, setting spray, acrylic glue, warm body oil, and that thick, sweet mist of cheap body glitter. Feminine and feral.

You sat at your usual mirror, counting out a small pile of crumpled bills, each one reeking faintly of whiskey breath and cheap cologne. Singles mostly, a few fives. The edges were soft and damp in places, like they'd been pulled out of a mouth or thigh crease. You didn’t want to think about it too hard.

Around you, the room was a landfill of discarded costumes and half-drunk Red Bulls. Platform heels kicked off under chairs, thigh-high boots leaning against lockers. No one ever cleaned, and if they did, it didn’t last more than a shift.

Still, you weren’t any better. Your pink platform boots were tossed under your chair like trash, and your makeup bag was still unzipped and bleeding glitter across the counter.

You didn’t care. You were tired. You just wanted to go home.

Tonight’s outfit was nothing groundbreaking—a pink sheer bikini top, tight and tiny, the kind of too-small where you had to readjust your tits every time you moved, but not because anyone cared about modesty. The fabric was mesh-thin, lined in rhinestones, each one catching the dirty mirror light and casting a sparkle across your chest. Even rhinestones couldn’t hide the fact that your nipples were plainly visible through the fabric, hard from sweat or the AC or just the way the night rubbed you raw.

Your matching skirt wasn’t much better—same sheer material, same rhinestones, same bad idea. It hugged your hips but left nothing to the imagination. Your pink glitter thong peeked through unapologetically, and when you sat down, the skirt bunched up high enough that you might as well have been wearing nothing.

It wasn’t original, but it worked. Pink. Sparkly. Pretty.

Your hair was up in a high ponytail, tight enough to give you a headache, but it looked good, and your makeup? Doll pink on your cheeks and lips, sharp glossy winged liner, lashes long and curled. You looked like the good girl gone so, so bad.

Cute and ruinable. Innocent and fucked. Sinful. Not even pretending to be anything else.

You had a few minutes left before your shift was over, and even that wasn’t soon enough. 

“How are things going with your case?” Your coworker asked.

She was a tall woman wearing a platinum blonde wig and cherry lipgloss. Her name was Rei, but here at Latex they called her Champagne. Original? No, but you liked her, and she was your best friend here.

You kept your voice soft, “Mmm… I actually can’t talk about that.”

You weren’t being coy. You just had a sixth sense about when to keep your mouth shut, and you weren’t about to air legal drama with the wrong ears in the room.

You glanced up at the wide dressing mirror, lined with hot bulbs and cheap scuff marks, and caught sight of one of the other girls adjusting her top behind you. You tracked her in the reflection without turning your head.

You looked in the mirror and your eyes tracked your other coworker who had been in the room as well. You’d wait for them to leave before you spoke again. 

Finally when you heard the door close you’d turn around to look at your friend, “The Saito’s have another witness.”

“What?!” She whispered loudly as she approached you. She pushed off the vanity and stepped closer, heels clacking faintly against the grimy linoleum.

“Yes! But my lawyer said things are playing out pretty much as he thought they would. He’s got this.” You attempted to hide a smile as you talked about him.

“What the hell is that look? Are you fucking your lawyer again?” She frowned.

“I never stopped.” You sighed, “It’s his fault! I go in there every time like, I’m gonna behave, I’m gonna be professional—and then he finds a way to bend me over his desk.”

Rei laughed, “You trying to behave? I know damn well that ain’t true. Are you at least being safe?”

“No.” You shook your head, “It’s a miracle I’m not pregnant to be honest with you because he does not pull out, and not once have we used a condom. It’s insane. Ughhh, he gets on my nerves, but I do have to wonder where things will go once this is all behind us. The fuck does he see in me anyway?”

She leaned in, softer now. “He believes you. You know how rare that is? Do you know what I’d give for someone to stand by me like that? You’re not just some good lay to him, babe. If he’s risking everything just to be near you… you better start asking what you see in him.”

You couldn’t ponder the question too long as you got a notification on your phone. 

Here.

“Alright girl, I gotta head out. Give em hell out there for me.” You blew a kiss to the woman.

You began to collect your items, and put your thigh high boots back on. Rei was your confidant. Even though it was completely unwise to share case details with anyone, you knew that you could with her. She was your real friend- like outside of work.

You’d walk out with all of your tips stuffed into your purse. It was about $110- relatively slow night, and you got off early or else you could have made more.

As you exited the building you’d say goodbye to your coworkers and the bouncers at the door. You tried as best you could not to get caught up with any clientele. Bad idea.

Parked right in the front was your ride. You rolled your eyes. So bold. Black BMW with that limo tint. No one could see in the car, but you knew who it was.

You didn’t get in right away. You weren’t just gonna slide into the passenger seat like a good little girl, not when he was parked out front like this. No, you made him wait.

Your heels clicked slowly as you rounded the front of the car, one hand dragging across the hood just to be bratty. It was warm from the engine still running. He’d been waiting for you.

You made your way to the driver’s side and stopped. Your knuckles tapped delicately against the darkened glass

Slowly but surely Higuruma’s face appeared before you.

“Gimmie a kiss.” You leaned down into the window and he’d oblige.

“You been drinking pretty girl?” He kissed you again, “I can taste it. Come on, let’s get you home.”

“I was just waiting for you to open my door, Hiromi.” You smiled with a little glint of evil in your eye.

“You said you wanted me to stay in the car when I come to your job, or you know I would.” He grabbed your chin, giving you a deeper kiss, “Would you like me to get the door for you, honey?”

“No!” You pulled away, “This is highly inappropriate! I can’t be seen with you like this!”

His eyes danced between yours, “Are you gonna get in the car sweetheart?”

You didn't answer immediately. Instead you'd just continue to stare at him. “If I asked- no! If I begged you to fuck me in this parking lot, would you do it?”

He continued to glance back until he broke with a slight smirk, “No, I wouldn't.”

“The lies you tell Mr. Higuruma.” You'd kiss him again before getting serious, “Fuck me right now in this parking lot. Pull around to the back- let me bounce on your cock for a little bit.”

He grabbed your chin again to keep you close, “We need to make it quick.”

“You're a bad one Mr. Higuruma.” You grinned so wide it hurt, “How dare you. I'm at work.”

You backed out of the window and ran back to the other side of the car to get in. You were glowing. You were asking for it. You were all his and he knew that.

He wouldn’t take off until you put on your seatbelt, and you kind of loved that he did that. It was so sweet how he cared about your wellbeing. Dumbass.

The man rolled his window back up and looked at your outfit. He liked it, but at the same time he didn’t exactly love that other people saw you in it.

"Are we going to dinner?" You smiled at him with your cute expression. 

"I didn't plan on it. I think you need some sleep." He placed his hand on your thigh, rubbing against your soft skin.

"But I'm hungry." You placed your hand over his, "You're just trying to get me home so you can fuck me again." 

"Do I want to have sex with you? Yes. We don't have to though. That's not what this is all about." He looked at you with his serious eyes.

"But what if I do wanna have sex with you?" You squeezed his hand a bit.

"Then we can do that." Finally the man put the car in drive and began to take off. "My point is that's not why I'm with you. That's not the only thing about you that I enjoy."

You just knew you were on the verge of blushing if you weren't already. "Fine, since you wanna be so honest tonight—what do you like about me?"

He’d not hesitate.“You're probably the only person who makes me laugh. I like that little attitude you have, even when it's not working in my favor. I like how strong willed you are. I like how you bring out the best in me, and I can just be myself around you. I like how you don't care about anyone else's opinion… except mine, of course.”

“Whoa sir!” You laughed, “Don't you sneak that shit in there! This is about me. Take it back.”

His eyes broke from the road for a split second, “Okay, but we both know it's not true. I take it back. You don't bring out the best in me.”

“No! I'm gonna bite you!” You gave a little frown.

“You're gonna bite me? In your cute little outfit with your nipples out?” He rubbed your thigh for a second before reaching over and giving your breast a light squeeze.

“I will fuck you while you drive.” You reached over and grabbed his face. “Don't test me.”

“That’s not a threat, honey.” He shook his head.

“You’re so nasty!” You leaned over. “I know you want that, but I’m gonna make you wine and dine me first. You can’t just have me, Mr. Higuruma.”

“You wanna be wined and dined, hm? I can do that.” His hand removed from your thigh once again and reached in the back seat.

When his hand returned, it carried a large black box, tied with a velvet red ribbon. The kind of box that looked expensive before you even opened it. He handed it to you with much care before returning his hand to your leg.

This son of a bitch was always thinking so many steps ahead wasn’t he? That’s what you liked about him. He let you think you were in control, let you strut around like you were first to cross the finish line, but Hiromi Higuruma didn’t race to win. He trailed behind just close enough to watch how you moved—so when he finally decided to run, he’d be lapping you before you even knew he’d started.

Your eyes remained on him as you held the box, and his remained on the road. Smug bastard. You finally looked at the box as you opened it and unwrapped the tissue paper. 

A black dress. Form fitting long sleeve dress with a sweetheart neckline and a split that ran all the way up the thigh. It was gorgeous, and it was expensive, like something that never came off the rack. You didn’t know what to say.

“Hiro.” Your voice lightened significantly.

“I know- you probably need some shoes huh?” He reached back again only to grab another box of exactly that.

“Hiro!” You yelled at the man. “Stop!” You tore through the box to find a pair of black Louboutin pumps. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You couldn’t even hide your smile.

“You said you were hungry.” The man shrugged slightly.

“I can’t believe you!” You leaned over once again and showered the man’s cheek with kisses. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Where are we going?!”

“Do you wanna go to that one place you’ve been talking about? That French place?”

“Le Cygne Noir?! You have a reservation?!” Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head at this point. “I don’t know what to do with you Hiromi! You’re getting the best head, and the best pussy tonight! I’ll let you do it all. Whatever you want. Name it.” You paused for a moment. “I can’t go into Le Cygne Noir with this makeup on! I literally look like a stripper. With or without this beautiful fucking dress on! Holy shit!”

The man beside you frowned, “You’re beautiful. Look at me.” His eyes briefly broke from the road again to look at you, “You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Whether you wanna wear the outfit you’re in now or what I purchased for you- I will be right beside you. You know that, right?”

You didn’t know how to reply. He really did like you, didn’t he? Beyond just the physical, he found something within you during your time together that made him want something real with you. Real enough to risk a pregnancy, anyway. 

“Thank you.” You paused for a moment, “Would it be trashy if I got dressed in this car right now?”

“No.” He replied simply.

“Yes it is! You literally can’t hide that smile. I can’t believe you! You want me to get undressed in your car! I’m gonna do it, but your freak is not lost on me.”

Your hands reached for the string around your neck and pulled it- letting your top fall. You’d then pull the one around your back and tossed the top into his lap. 

He placed a hand on the back of your neck for a moment as he pulled up to a red light. He'd lean in to kiss your lips briefly. He then lowered a bit, giving your neck kisses and trailing down to your right breast. His mouth wrapped around your nipple and your hand instantly placed on the back of his head to bring him closer.

A deep moan escaped you as you felt his tongue circle around your nipple. His teeth tugged at your sensitive skin- pulling away with a suck as he saw the green light reflecting on your skin. An indication that it was time to drive again.

“We can't get in a little quickie?” You looked at him with the sweetest puppy eyes.

“We can do whatever you want.” His hand that was previously on your neck lowered so he could knead your breast in his hand. “But if we do, we'll miss the reservation.”

You gasped, “Holy shit, Hiromi Higuruma! You are so not slick at all!”

“What did I do?” He asked in a neutral tone.

“You want me horny at dinner.” You accused. “That’s what this is. You’re gonna sit across from me all calm and composed while I’m soaking through this designer dress under the fucking table.”

“You make it sound so intentional” He spoke quite innocently for a man who started this.

“It is intentional! You want me nice and wet so by the time dinner’s over, I’ll fuck you real good!”

“You always fuck me good.” He'd not confirm any of the words you spoke, knowing they were true. “Now get dressed sweetheart. We're almost there.”

You pulled the dress over your head, “Yeah, mhm. Let's have a nice dinner.”

As you pulled the dress down, you'd take off your skirt and thong until they were at your feet. No, you didn't need to remove your thong, but you needed to play just as dirty as him.

“Let me get this straight.” You spoke as you now began to put the heels on. “You clearly had this whole night planned, but were you counting on things not going according to plan? You almost fucked me at my job! Also, you said we were going home. What if I never said I was hungry? You were gonna risk the reservation?”

He shrugged, “I know you well enough. I know when you’re teasing me, and I know when you’re hungry.”

Your arms crossed over your chest as you listened to his words. He was unfortunately right. He knew you very well. Much better than you’d like to admit, anyway. Well damn, you’d have to show him tonight! He was a horny man in general, but it was so much worse when he was a little tipsy.

Unfortunately you were a horny drunk too, and you started before him. You’d have to get him a little drunk and tease the shit out of him since he thought he was so intelligent! 

As the man pulled up to the venue, he'd find a place to park. He could valet, sure, but he wanted as little interaction while on a date with his client as possible. It was slightly crowded, but nothing too crazy. It was a weekday after all, so people weren't out like that.

Your eyes looked up at the building that was a short walk away. Dinner on the top floor? Ugh, you wanted to give him head so bad!

Higuruma exited the car and walked over to your side to open the door for you. He'd offer you his hand to help you out, and you'd take it.

His eyes were glued to you. From the high slit of the black dress running daringly up your thigh, to the way your Louboutin heels sharpened your stance, to the sweetheart neckline that cupped your breasts like a lover’s hands. Every inch of your silhouette was wrapped in his gift, and he stood there just drinking it in.

You looked at him as well and he was not in his normal suit. No, this was a much nicer black on black suit that was clearly tailored just for him. The satin lapels were a nice touch.

“You look so beautiful baby.” His hands grabbed your face and he'd press his lips to yours.

Your hands grabbed his wrists as you deepened the kiss. His tongue briefly colliding with your own. You'd pull away only to look at him with your sultry bedroom eyes.

“Behave, Hiro. I know you only call me baby when you're horny.” You'd pout, “We gotta be good.” 

“Alright.” He'd give you one last peck before offering you his arm. 

Together, you stepped through the golden entrance of the hotel. The lobby unfolded around you like a scene out of a dream. Polished marble floors reflected the soft glow of chandelier light above, casting halos around your feet. 

Gold inlays and delicate moldings curled up the white columns like art nouveau vines. Fresh white orchids spilled from vases taller than your torso, their scent soft but distinct in the warm air. Even the air conditioning smelled expensive.

It was silent, but not still. You could hear soft jazz playing somewhere overhead. The receptionist smiled like she was trained in luxury. Even the walls were tastefully textured, nothing flat, nothing basic. This wasn’t just a hotel. It was a temple—and in this temple, Higuruma walked beside you like he belonged.

You, though—you felt like you were being watched. Even if no one looked. Because with him on your arm and a dress like this on your body, how could they not?

Still, you weren’t here for the hotel. You had a destination. The two of you approached the elevator, and the second the doors slid open with that soft chime, you stepped inside—alone together once more.

Once the door closed, Higuruma pulled you close to him with his hands around your waist. You looked up at him and with that soft look he found impossible to resist. 

“Look how pretty you are.” He smiled softly at you.

“Oh you like me?” You teased.

“I do.” His hands rubbed your sides before running them down your backside to your ass. “Are you wearing panties?”

“You're so cute.” You smiled.

“You aren't, are you?” His hands gripped your plush ass. “My naughty girl.”

“I might have them o-”

Before you could finish you felt his hand smack your ass. You loved when he got worked up. He was already so horny for you. You just needed to rile him up a bit more.

“I knew you were gonna test me tonight.” He spoke in a low, husky tone.

“I said be good!” You pulled his neck down lower. “No more touching until after dinner, okay?” You gave him a devious smile. “I'm still hungry, and you said dick isn't a meal.”

“I didn't say that.”

The elevators opened just as you backed away. Ah, so this was the 36th floor the elite had been talking about.

The host station greeted you first—gold leaf accents on polished black, with ambient light catching crystal stemware stacked behind glass cases.

Beyond the entrance, the city spilled out in every direction—the Tokyo skyline glittering under the night sky, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows. Tables were spaced apart deliberately, giving each guest a sense of privacy. Candles flickered. 

Soft French jazz played from a live band near the bar, the scent of aged wine and truffle butter filling the air. 

“Welcome to Le Cygne Noir.” The hostess spoke. “How can I assist you this evening?”

“We have a reservation under Higuruma.” He spoke as he adjusted his tie.

“Certainly, Mr. and Mrs. Higuruma, follow me please.” 

Hearing that made your heart flutter so much that you wouldn't even correct her. 

“After you Mrs. Higuruma.” Hiromi gestured for you to walk in front of him.

It was so nice here. Beautiful mood lighting with a city view. The tables were spaced out quite generously- gave you ideas.

The hostess led you both to a table tucked near the edge of the room, flanked by the wide glass windows offering a full, glittering view of the city. The space was intimate but not small—a square table for four, draped in white linen, flickering with the glow of a tea candle, and polished silver that looked untouched by human hands.

Hiromi, ever the gentleman, pulled out your chair first, not just anywhere—but positioned perfectly so you could face the city. 

There was a seat next to yours, but he didn’t touch it. Instead, he circled to the other side of the table and took the one directly across from you.

“Please have a look at our menu. Your server will be right with you to get your drink orders.” The host smiled before walking away.

“Thank you.” You waited for the host to leave before your eyes went back to Hiromi, whose eyes never left you to begin with. “You're going to sit across from me?”

“You said we're being good. If I sit next to you I'm putting my hands on you.” There was almost a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Plus I want to look at you.”

“Um, I didn't say we.” You protested.

“You definitely did, sweetheart.” He picked up the menu and began to look it over.

“Prove it.” You slipped delicately out of your shoe and began to rub your foot against his thigh.

His eyes shot up at you—but your gaze? Still politely skimming the menu like nothing was happening. Like you weren’t slowly dragging your foot higher and higher up his leg.

Your foot moved further until it was on his cock. Thank God for the tablecloth hiding everything. He was so hard. Probably hurt. Oh well.

A young man with a clean side part and black tux approached the table. “Good evening. My name is Kazuya. I will be your server tonight. Can I start you guys off with some drinks?”

“Hi Kazuya.” You smiled. “Let's see. I will have a glass of Pinot Grigio.”

“That's one of my favorites.” Kazuya smiled. 

You laughed lightly, your foot rubbing up and down the length of Hiromi’s cock. “Well aren’t we just kindred spirits?”

Your tone was casual. Breezy. Even as your toe traced the curve of your man’s erection through his slacks.

“It’s my go-to. So good.” You added, voice still innocent.

“Same here.” Kazuya replied, placing a hand lightly on your shoulder. “Pairs really well with the risotto too.”

That hand… Higuruma’s eyes darkened. He wasn’t happy.

“In that case—” His voice calm and clipped, “We’ll have the bottle.” Higuruma glanced sharply at the server’s hand before they reached his eyes. “I'll have whiskey on the rocks for now.” 

“Great, I will be right back.” Kazuya nodded and walked to the kitchen. 

“You’re gonna be like that tonight?” The man across from you looked at you with intense eyes. He was referring to the work you were giving him under this table.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be like that tonight.” Your foot slid up and down his length. “What are you gonna do Mr. Higuruma?” Your hand traced down your chest until your fingers hooked onto your dress.

You’d pull the fabric down just enough to flash him your nipple really quick. He’d been staring at the outline of your tits through that dress the whole time anyway. You just made his life a little easier.

You drove him crazy. He was a true professional that was a major freak in the sheets. You matched that freak, and he loved that about you. It wasn’t just the sex though. You were actually very intelligent and easy to talk to.

“I’m gonna sit next to you.” His hand grabbed your foot under the table.

“No.” You licked your lips. “You’re gonna sit right there and be good. You chose to sit across from me. I will take care of you after dinner.”

You moved your foot back to his thigh and you couldn't help but notice how muscular they were. So firm, and it seemed bigger than when you first met him. 

“You've been working out Hiro?” You asked casually as you looked back at the menu. “You've been filling out all of your shirts quite nicely, and the pants too. Your thighs have been looking juicy. I wanna bite them.”

“Thank you, baby. I have to build more muscle so I can perfect fucking you how you like. You've been liking a lot of positions where I lift you up lately.”

Of course he would take mental notes about that. Just like he did with the red lollipops. Hiromi was a man who liked to show, not tell. He liked to do things that made your life better even if you didn't directly notice.

“That's why you've been working out? For the record- I love the way you fuck me in every position.” Your foot traveled up again, and you'd pause. “Hiromi Higuruma… you pulled your dick out? You're so sexy. I can't wait to give you head. I wanna suck you off so bad right now.”

That tablecloth was really doing its damn job tonight. Earning its keep!

He grabbed your foot and rubbed it against his uncovered cock. “You said you'll take care of me after dinner. I trust you.”

“Why are you pretending to be patient?” You licked your lips, “I know when that whiskey hits you'll be begging me for it.”

This was madness. The way both of you kept switching from being the rational one to the horny one. This was pure chaos.

You'd retract your foot before you really got something started. You didn't wanna waste his cum like that.

It didn’t take long before Kazuya returned with the drinks.

You just knew—this was where things would start unraveling. Two horny people. A five-star restaurant. A few sips of alcohol. This was bad.

He approached the table with practiced elegance, the kind of posture you only saw in polished hotels and overpriced tasting menus. With a crisp flick of the wrist, he uncorked the Pinot Grigio with the grace of a man who thought he had your full attention.

You watched the golden liquid flow into the delicate crystal, glistening as it caught the candlelight. It looked so good. Cold. Smooth. Like sex in a bottle. You couldn’t wait to taste it.

“Do you know what you’d like to eat?” Kazuya’s eyes stayed fixed on you first—too long, maybe.

You smiled. “I’ll go with your suggestion of the risotto.” Your voice was honeyed, light.

Kazuya’s hand moved to your back—just a brief touch, a soft press of his palm, like it was nothing. “Perhaps we really are kindred spirits, hmm?” He spoke with a casual laugh.

“Mrs. Higuruma is gorgeous, huh?” Hiromi gave a fictitious grin toward the server, “So beautiful, but I guarantee she’s not worth the sexual harassment lawsuit. You can remove your hand. I’ll have the steak, medium rare with potatoes and asparagus. Thank you.”

“M-my apologies!” The man bowed before taking your menus. “I will put your order in right now.”

Your mouth hung ajar as you looked at the man across from you, “Are you serious Hiro? There’s no way he made you jealous.”

“I wasn’t rude. I just told him that he doesn’t want that lawsuit. He doesn’t. I didn’t get physical with him.” The man placed his hands back under his chin as he spoke.

“Getting physical is not an option Hiro. We know you can beat everyone’s ass in here. I’m just saying he wasn’t-... I’m not gonna explain myself.” You looked away from him and you could feel your cheeks getting warm, “That was crazy, baby.”

“Did that just make you horny?” He followed your gaze with the faintest smirk on his face.

“Getting whiskey with a steak is so tacky, but look at this wine bottle! The epitome of class!” You immediately changed the subject, “Thank you Hiro.” You poked out your bottom lip just a tiny bit, “You did so much for me tonight. Let me pay for something. You wanna get a hotel?”

He'd take a sip of his drink, “I do, actually.’

“You're really gonna let me pay?” Your eyes lit up. 

“I was thinking we could go on vacation.”

“Oh you want me to spend big money! I can't leave the country though.” You shrugged, “Ya know. Kinda tied up in some legal shit.”

“I took that into consideration. I was thinking about Sapporo. You think you can take next week off?”

“Sapporo?!” You thought about it, “That is so last minute, but I think I can do it. I'm gonna have to give so many private dances this week to earn some vacation money.” You laughed.

“I’m gonna let that comment slide only because I know you think of me whenever you do it.” He’d take a sip of his drink before reaching across the table and taking your hand into his. His thumb brushing your knuckles gently. “I’ll let you spend your own money in the next life, sweetheart.”

You intertwined your fingers with his- your eyes fixed on how much larger his hand is, “You saying we’ll be together in the next life?”

“Yeah, just like we were in the last.”

“Stop saying sweet shit to me!” You whispered loudly as you pulled you hand away, “You’re out here calling me Mrs. Higuruma, but I don’t recall you ever asking me to even be your girlfriend- let alone your wife.”

“We know who we belong to.” His hand reached across the table now- thumb lightly teasing your already erect nipple. 

“That whiskey is starting to hit you. Belong?” You questioned as you quickly looked behind you to make sure no one was coming. You'd pull your neckline down and reveal your breasts to him.  “Didn’t know I was a possession.”

“Honey, what does the server look like?” He leaned in a hair to hear your answer- his hand roaming all over your chest, rubbing and pinching your nipples occasionally. “What does anyone in this restaurant besides me look like?” 

“I won’t be trapped right now.” You'd move his hand away from you and pull your top back up, “Just because your eyes have been stuck on my tits all night doesn’t mean that mine have been stuck on you.”

“I know your body so well. I knew that dress would fit you perfectly.” He’d reach out to grab your hand and bring it toward his lips so he could gently kiss your knuckles. “You look so sexy, and I can’t wait to perform the most sinful acts to your body later, but I also care about you deeply. Are you really gonna sit here and tell me you don’t feel the same?”

It was getting harder and harder to look at him. He knew what he was doing. He was provoking an honest confession out of you. You did not want him to feel undesired by you, so fine! You’d budge just this once.

“Hiromi, don’t you ever question how I feel about you. When this whole process started, you were the only one who believed in my innocence, and not just because you are my attorney. I had four witnesses against me when this started. My family begged me to take the plea even though I am completely innocent… but you told me that good always triumphs, and you single handedly put my worries to rest. We’re at eight witnesses now and we don’t know how much money the Saito’s will pay for that number to go up, but you still haven’t bat an eye. You have been the only reason I’ve been able to get any sleep these past five months. I am so grateful for you. I care about you a lot. You’re very handsome. You dick me down so good every night. I can’t wait for this dinner to be over so I can bounce on your cock already, but more importantly I can’t wait for this case to be over so I can just be with you.” You crossed your arms, “Happy?”

“...I am in love with you.” He smiled so genuinely as he looked at you. Yes, a man in love. 

“I know you are.” You reached across the table to grab his face. “But I need you to stop being bad. If I go to trial pregnant with no baby daddy the jury is going to prejudge me. I’ll have enough of them judging me for my profession. I don’t need to give them any more of a reason.”

“They don’t know you like I do. They don’t know the real you, but we’ll show them.” He’d give your hand another kiss. “Just not too much of the real you. I want that for me.”

“I’m so fucking horny right now. “ You bit your bottom lip.

“Yeah?” Higuruma smirked, swirling his drink.

“You’re supposed to be solving all of my problems Mr. Higuruma, not creating them.” You began to rub your thighs together out of habit. “This is torture.”

“Alright, I have risotto for the lady, and Steak for the gentleman.” Your server spoke, only it wasn't Kazuya this time. It was a petite brunette girl in a black dress.

“My name is Fumiko if you have any questions.”

“Thank you so much Fumiko. What happened to Kazuya?” You asked, your head cocking slightly to the side from curiosity.

“He switched sections, but don't worry, I will take care of you guys.” 

“Can I get another whiskey please?” Higuruma spoke up.

“Right away!” The new peppy girl walked off now.

“What were you just saying?” The raven haired man didn't miss a beat as he picked up his silverware and looked at you.

You ignored the bait, eyes already locked on the risotto in front of you like it was a long-lost lover. It looked gorgeous—creamy, glistening, dotted with wild mushrooms and shaved truffle.

The moment your fork sank into it, you let out a moan—not obscene, but enough to earn Hiromi’s full attention.

“Mmm. This is so delicious. The mushrooms are insanely good. If I get sentenced to death, this’ll be my last meal.”

“You’re not facing death.” Higuruma frowned. “And don’t act like you didn’t hear my question.”

“You know exactly what I said Mr. Higuruma.”

“I just wanted to hear you say it again.” He’d admit. 

“Just for that I’m gonna drag this out. I want dessert after this.” Your eyes looked sharply into his, “And I want you to sit next to me when it arrives. You know- so you can help me eat it.”

“You know I can't deny such an invitation. Especially when you're so insistent.” 

Order you did. Time was blurring. 

You were so excited for creme brulee! Didn’t take too long for them to make it either. When the crème brûlée arrived, golden and warm with a perfectly glassy sugar shell, your eyes lit up—Hiromi just stared.

He didn’t even pretend not to be obsessed with the way you looked when you were happy.

He loved that you were this easy to please. Damn you were really his one and only. 

He'd continue to eat his food. “Are you cold, baby?”

You frowned as you looked at him. “Why would you think that? Is it because of my nipples being hard? You just want me to tell you how horny I am every damn step of the way? Let me show you something. Come sit next to me. Now.”

It all culminated into this. Five whiskey’s down for him. Four glasses of wine for you. The judgment was a little off. All you could feel now is just- horny?

The man stood up from his side of the table and you frowned. “I can literally see your boner sir. You didn't… ugh, come over here quickly.” 

He walked over to your side normally enough, but you knew he was just as intoxicated as you.

“Okay, look. You have it going off to the side when it needs to be under your belt.” Your fingers traced his manhood as you spoke on it. “There's a lot to hide, but you can do it. You need to do a better job when we leave. Now sit down.”

You were trying to be so mathematical with your touches, but to him, he just felt you rubbing his cock. If you wanted him to straighten up well, that didn't help. Sober you would know better than to rile him up like that. 

The man took a seat next to you and immediately wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He just wanted to be in your intimate space. He was needy, and said needs were not being met right now.

“What did you wanna show me baby?” He leaned in to give you a kiss right by your ear. All discretion was out the window as his tongue traced the shell. “Hurry up and eat that dessert so I can put my face between your legs, pretty girl. I wanna leave marks all over your thighs. Suck that pretty pussy.” He’d lean down and give your neck a brief kiss, “Then fuck you deep into my bed. Have you soak my sheets thoroughly from making you cum again, and again.”

You turned to look at him with a little bit of confusion. “Oh, I’m sorry if I let you believe you’d be dictating how this goes.” You grabbed his tie and pulled him toward you just a bit as if the two of you weren’t already close enough. “I am not going to hurry with this dessert. Your head will be up nice and high like the king you are as my tongue licks every inch of your delicious cock that’s been ever so patient for me this evening. I will be leaving very incriminating evidence of my presence all over your body, and you will moan for me nice loud like a good boy as I ride your cock and milk you for every last drop of cum. Have I made myself clear?”

Was it possible for his pupils to get any more blown out? No they could not. You quite frequently submitted to his will in bed. A leader in the streets, pillow princess in the sheets perhaps? There were rare times where you had to boss up on the boss. It was impossible to tell what he liked better, but the moments you were like this were rare, so he appreciated it a lot.

His lustful eyes looked so intensely into yours as he spoke in a gritty tone. “Hurry up and finish that damn creme brulee before I fuck you right here on the table.”

Oh he was tipsy for sure. He never spoke to you like that. Right now was different… and it was kinda sexy.

“Help me finish it then, Hiromi.” You kept your eyes on him for quite a bit of time before looking back at your dessert.

You’d pick up your spoon and crack the top layer shell. Scooping up a bite you’d bring it up to your mouth and eat the yummy dessert. It was so good and creamy.

You made sure to look at the man as you licked your spoon clean. “It's so good, Hiromi. I don't wanna rush.”

It was absolute agony watching you eat that dessert. Watching your tongue run against that spoon over and over. Even being tipsy you were proud that he showed so much restraint. You wouldn’t.

Your free hand reached over to his lap and placed right onto his hard cock. There was no point in pretending like that’s not what you wanted. He was so happy to have given his card to Fumiko right after you ordered dessert, because as soon as you were done eating he wanted to leave.

“You’re so bad, you know that?” The man growled into your ear. “I better apologize to that pretty pussy now. I’m not taking it easy on her tonight.”

You’d bat your eyes at him, “Go easy on me Hiro. I’m supposed to be your princess.”

“You don't want that. I know what you're doing.” His hand gently caressed your face as he brought you closer to him. “I'm giving you two minutes to finish.”

Your finger dipped into the creme brulee and brought it to his lips. “If you're so pressed then help me finish. I told you to help me.”

His mouth opened and he'd take your finger into his mouth. Sucking and running his tongue against it. Slowly he'd pull away and your finger was left clean and coated in his saliva.

His hand shot out, gripping your jaw now and bringing you forward. He’d press his lips against yours. Rough. Deep. Possessive. “You have sixty seconds.”

“Fuck, Hiro.” You sighed.

You’d take your time, like really take your time. Spoon dragging lazily through the creme brulee. Making sure he saw your tongue run against the spoon. Why were you torturing him again? 

His patience was down to its last strand. His fingers tapped slow, controlled by the rhythm against his thigh. His jaw flexing every time you licked that stupid ass utensil.

He kept watching… waiting…

Finally you set the spoon down, exhaling softly. “I’m full.”

He stood up immediately. No words. He simply adjusted his suit jacket, rolling his neck slightly. “Walk in front of me.”

“Why?” You teased.

“You know why.” He placed his hands on his hips and adjusted you to an acceptable angle.

The restaurant staff bid you both a polite farewell as you waved goodbye to them.

“Have a wonderful evening, Mr. and Mrs. Higuruma!”

You swore you heard him exhale rough at that. That staff really pulled on his heart strings.

The moment the two of you stepped back on the elevator, Higuruma snapped. He didn’t even wait for the fucking doors to close all the way.

Your back hit the cool wall behind you, Higuruma’s body pressing up against yours. This was a strong man, and you sometimes forgot that poking the bear would get you in this exact position. 

His hand immediately slid under the slit of your dress. Fingers slipping between your slick folds.

“Fuck.” His he exhaled.

His fingers dragged through your wetness, spreading it, teasing you so damn slow. His forehead dropped to your shoulder.

“You’ve been wet all night for me haven’t you baby?” His voice was deep, hoarse.

You moaned softly as his fingers circled your clit, slow and controlled. “Tell me how bad you need me.”

Your hips bucked against him. Your hand reaching for the back of his head, gripping his hair. “You know how much I need you.”

His lips peppered against your shoulder and began to move up your neck. You could feel his fingers slip inside of you. 

“Hiromi! Fuck!” You moaned.

He'd continue pumping his fingers as he dropped to one knee. His hand moved the fabric of your dress aside as he latched onto your clitoris with accuracy.

“Mmm! Yes Hiro! I love how that mouth feels on me. Keep going baby.”

He would heed your words, lifting one of your legs so that your new Louboutin heel pressed onto his shoulder. It gave him a lot more leverage, but even still, you weren’t sure that this elevator ride would be long enough for him to make you cum.

“Don't doubt me baby.” His sharp eyes looked into yours as his fingers curled inside of you.

It was like he read your mind and challenged your thoughts. Like he took it personally. You were ten floors away from the lobby now, and he was going to make you cum before you hit the ground.

“Shit!” Your hand grabbed his hair tightly.

You could feel it. Shame on you to ever doubt a man who knew your body so well. He was just really good at this. Good at unraveling you.

You gasped—surprised that he could ever do it. Again, this was the man who knew your body better than you did.

Your walls constricted, and you could feel that rush. It was euphoric every single time, and how he knew the exact amount of pressure to keep applying so that you could ride out this orgasm as long as you could—he was perfect.

Ding!

The elevator reached the ground floor, and Higuruma pulled away. His fingers withdrew and went straight to his mouth as he sucked every last bit of your arousal off of them.

You lowered your leg, and released his hair.

Both of you fixed yourselves as the doors slid open. It was as if nothing ever happened.

The two of you headed straight for his car. Neither of you were in any state to drive… not that you wanted to, and not that you were going to.

Seemed like you got there with haste. Probably because the two of you couldn’t get to the damn car fast enough. 

You’d not go to the passenger’s side, no. You’d go to the driver’s side, opening the door.

“After you.” You smiled sweetly.

His hand brushed yours as he stepped past you, leaning in to kiss you slow and deep before he sat down. 

“Take it out.” You looked down at him.

He didn’t hesitate. His hands went straight to his belt, his zipper, and then, his cock was freed.

There it was, that pretty cock you loved so much. Thick, flushed, veiny, and just throbbing for your touch. Goodness your mouth was watering.

You looked around once, quickly. Just to make sure no one was around. Then you leaned down.

The moment your mouth wrapped around him, Higuruma groaned low and rough.

“Fuck baby.” His hand was quick to grab your hair.

You took him deep, slow- like torturously slow. Letting the tip hit the back of your throat as you swallowed him. 

He’d gather more of your hair to move it out of the way. 

You pulled back, kissing along his length, dragging your tongue against his tip before taking him deep again. Higuruma’s head tilted back against the seat, breath heavy, thighs tensing beneath your hands.

“Yes baby. You’re doing so good. Keep going.”

You pulled off of him, breathless, grinning as your lips still pressed against his skin. You then reached into his pants, pulling his balls free and cupping them gently before taking them in your mouth.

His body tensed, and a low moan rumbled in his chest. His hand tightened in your hair, and his cock throbbed as you sucked him so perfectly- teasing him with your tongue. 

You went back up—circling his tip before sucking him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. 

It was so sudden, but Higuruma pulled his cock from your mouth. You barely had time to react before he kissed you messy and rough. 

His voice gravely and full of need, “I need to be inside you baby.”

You grinned against his lips, “Yes, sir.” 

He stroked himself as he watched you adjust your dress, raising it so that you could get in position to straddle him. You reached down, guiding his cock to your entrance. Then slowly, you sank down all the way to the hilt.

You both shared a broken and shaky moan. His hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging in. One of your legs was between him and the armrest- the other outside of the car attempting to stabilize.

The moment you sank down on him, the moment he stretched you open, filled you completely, you didn’t give him a second to adjust. You rode him immediately. Fast, hard and relentless.

“You feel so fucking good baby.” He moaned out.

Your nails scratched down his chest, breath stuttering, “I know.”

Higuruma threw his head back, groaning loud, voice grizzly, like his moans were coming from the depths of him.

His hands gripped your waist, trying to steady you, trying to pace you—but you weren’t having it. “Don’t help me.” You panted, “I got this.”

“Fuck!” He tried to keep his voice lower, but he just couldn’t. “Feels so fucking good…”

He could barely get the words out. You felt too good, too tight, too perfect around him. His hips jerked up involuntarily, his breath coming out in sharp, uneven pants.

“Oh shit—” He exhaled harshly.

You bounced faster, harder, your hands pressing against his chest for leverage. He was so deep, so thick, stretching you in a way that made you shudder with every movement.

His moans only got louder, filthier. “Yes. Bounce on me just like that baby. I love that sound- fuck. So wet for me like a good girl. Keep going.”

He was being quite vocal right now. Yeah, you liked that. Even if your words didn’t match, the way your pussy squeezed him tightly told him everything he needed to know.

His fingers dug into your thighs, his head tilting forward just enough to watch as your clothed breasts bounced with every movement, teasing him, taunting him.

Higuruma didn’t hesitate. He pulled your dress down, freeing you completely. “Look at you—fuck—you look so fucking sexy.”

His eyes were wild, hungry, completely ruined as he watched you take him so well. He was so lost in it, so lost in you. In love with you.

For a good while you kept it up. Riding him at that same relentless pace, gripping his shoulders, rocking your hips down in a way that made his cock throb inside you- but then you started getting tired.

Your movements didn’t slow down much, barely noticeable, but he knew. Of course, he knew.

Higuruma didn’t even mention it. He just wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight. Just like with everything else you needed help with in your life- he took over.

His hips snapped up, fast, brutal, punishing. “Oh fuck Hiro-”

You collapsed forward, moaning into his neck, gripping onto him as he fucked into you harder. It was overwhelming the way he angled his hips perfectly. The way he hit your g-spot over and over, like he knew exactly how to win over your body. It wasn’t a guess though. He knew. He always knew.

“You like that?” His voice was rough, commanding. “You like my cock fucking you like that?”

You could barely think, barely breathe. 

He thrust up harder, faster. “Tell me. Say it.”

“Mmm! Yes, I love it. I love it! I love your cock so much Hiro—”

His mouth latched onto your breast, sucking your nipple, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak and occasionally stimulating you with his teeth.

You gasped, arching against him, completely at his mercy. His lips trailed everywhere—your chest, your collarbone, your throat. 

Your walls tightened around him, and he groaned. “That’s it, baby.”

It always took practically nothing for him to get you to cum on his cock. Nothing at all. Just a few strokes and he had your entire body shaking-  trembling against him and screaming his name.

“Hiromi—”

He didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, his hand slipping between your bodies, rubbing your clit in tight, precise circles. You never had a chance to recover. It was too much, too stimulating, too good.

Your body locked up again, legs trembling, hands clutching onto him for dear life. A sharp gasp left your lips—then a deep moan. Your entire body went weak as your second orgasm hit you hard and fast. What a high.

A rush of wetness spilled between your thighs, soaking his lap. Higuruma’s head tilted down, watching, breath ragged.

“There it is.” His voice was deep, almost reverent.

He gripped your chin, pulling you up to kiss him, slow and deep. You were still trembling.

“I’m gonna cum, baby.”  His voice was breaking, his body shaking beneath you. “Gonna cum inside you.”

His hips snapped up one last time, burying himself deep, and then—he stilled.

You felt it. The warm rush of his release filling you, spilling deep, pulsing inside you in waves.

His lips found yours again, softer this time. He held you there, panting against your lips, savoring the aftershocks, the warmth, the way you still felt so tight and perfect around him.

He sighed, pulling you against his chest, letting you rest against him. His fingers traced lazy circles against your back, his lips pressing against your temple.

You stayed there for a moment, content before you spoke softly—“You okay to drive?”

Higuruma’s hand slid up your back, his fingers splaying gently across your spine.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

You tilted your head, studying him.

“You sure?”

That’s when his expression shifted. His usual teasing smirk was gone, replaced by something serious, steady, unwavering.

His fingers cupped your jaw, tilting your face to look at him. “Honey, I would never play with your safety.”

Your stomach flipped. His voice was so firm, so sincere. He leaned in, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss to your lips.

Then, his tone lightened just slightly. “Wanna come to my place?”

“Yes.”

You’d been to his house before, of course, but it never stopped being exciting when he invited you.

Still, you pouted slightly, shifting in his lap. “I don’t wanna get off.”

Higuruma chuckled, his hands smoothing over your waist. “You have to, sweetheart. Unless you wanna go another round right here.”

Your pout deepened. “Promise you’ll fuck me when we get home?”

Instead of immediately agreeing, he exhaled through his nose. “No.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“I’m not gonna keep calling it fucking. I’m going to make love to you.”

You rolled your eyes immediately, groaning. “Wow, Hiro.”

He just watched you. Completely serious.

“I don’t go to the gym and work around the clock on your case after hours because you’re a good fuck.” He lifted a hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I love you. I’m in love with you. You know that.”

You hated how those words hit you straight in the chest, sharp and warm and overwhelming. Maybe you were scared to hear it because you felt undeserving of it?

“Stop.”

“No.”

His grip on your waist tightened slightly. “I love you. I’m not afraid to say it.”

You felt your throat tighten.

“You can take all the time you need if you’re not ready to say it back. But I’m not scared to tell you that I fell in love with you.”

Your chest ached. You hated this. You hated how earnest he was, how every word was coated in absolute certainty. You could handle his teasing. His smirks. His smartass remarks. But this? You didn’t know what to do with this.

He  didn’t stop either. Hed continue talking. About how you’re the first person he thinks about in the morning and the last before he falls asleep. How he loves your attitude, your wit, your stubborn streak, the way you take no shit but melt in his hands so easily.

How he thinks about you constantly, even when you’re not around. How he loves the way you say his name, the way your voice drops just a little when you whisper “Hiromi” in the dark.

The longer he spoke, the harder it was to hold back your emotions. Your eyes started to sting, throat tightening. You could feel it coming…and then—it broke.

The first tear slipped down your cheek. Followed by another.

Higuruma sighed softly, watching you. “I hate when you cry. He murmured. “But I love your cute little cry face.”

You sniffled. “Hiromi, you’ve never seen me cry.”

His lips curled. “Yes, I have.”

You blinked, frowning. “When?”

His smirk deepened. “When I had my dick down your throat for the first time.”

A sharp gasp left you, followed by a laugh, wet and incredulous. “You asshole!”

You swatted his chest, laughing between your tears. Higuruma just chuckled, reaching up to brush a tear from your cheek. That was another thing he was good at. He knew how to break the tension.

You patted the tears from your face with both hands, sighing. “This is so ridiculous.”

You looked down, shaking your head, voice lightly incredulous. “You’re over here professing your love to me while you’re still balls deep. What the fuck, Hiromi?!”

He laughed, loud and genuine. Then, he tapped your thigh lightly, nudging you. “Come on, pretty girl.” He leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. “Let’s get you home.”

You nodded at his words, and it seemed as though both of you agreed, but neither of you made any effort to get up. No, you were far too comfortable now. 

Still seated in the driver’s seat, your body draped over his lap, his cock still buried deep inside you, softening slowly, but now twitching again. His hand rested flat on your lower back, warm and possessive.

“We should get home.” He whispered with no real meaning behind it. His voice was rough now, post-release husky, laced with the strain of self-control.

You hummed. “Yeah?”

He shifted slightly beneath you, and you both gasped—a sharp inhale, mutual and instinctive. Your pussy clenched again around his cock.

He groaned softly, head falling back against the seat. “Fuck.”

“Really, Hiro? Gonna kick me out of your lap just like that?”

He lifted his head to face you, “No.” He shook his head. “I’ll stay inside you all night if you let me.”

That made your eyes darken, made your body tense and clench around him again.

“Really?” Your head tilted slightly.

His hips started moving again. Slow, strong thrusts, deliberate. Just enough to make you feel the slide, the stretch.

“Really.”

You leaned in, dragging your lips along the line of his jaw, up to his ear. Your tongue flicked over the lobe, then you sucked it between your lips.

“Show me.” You moan right into his ear. “In the back seat.”

Normally, he might’ve paused. Normally, he’d look you in the eye and ask, is that what you really want, sweetheart? Not tonight. Not with how your pussy gripped him when you said it.

He pushed the door open with one arm around your waist and lifted you with him. Your legs wrapped around him, dress pushed up around your hips, his cock still nestled deep inside you.

No shame. No caution. No looking around. He walked you to the back seat, opened the door, and laid you down in one fluid motion, never pulling out. His body followed yours, and he reached to close the door behind him.

Then—he started to move. No teasing this time. Just a brutal rhythm, deep and relentless, his hips slamming into yours with a desperate hunger.

His eyes stayed locked on yours, watching every reaction—every time your jaw dropped, every time your brows furrowed from how deep he hit, every gasp, every moan.

“Fuck, baby…” His voice was already breaking. “You sound so good. I love the way your pussy sounds all wet like that.”

The filthy wet sound of him slamming into you over and over, slick and loud, filled the space.

“God, listen to that.” He groaned. “You’re soaking me, baby. You’re soaking my cock. Keep doing that.”

You could hardly respond—your brain short-circuited with each thrust. He leaned closer, face just inches from yours, his hips still punishing.

“You look so sexy like this…”

You moaned, hands digging into his biceps.

“Is it too much, baby?” He teased, his voice going soft, mocking. “Say the word, I’ll slow down. Promise.”

You glared up at him through heavy, wet lashes. “Shut the fuck up, Hiromi.”

He laughed—a deep, low sound that sent a jolt through you. “You’re perfect, you know that? So fucking good for me.”

Your moans were rising in pitch now, your legs trembling. He knew. He felt it—the way your pussy was fluttering, tightening again.

“You gonna cum for me again, baby? Gonna soak my back seat?” His eyes looked so hungrily into yours. 

You nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth, “Y-Yeah, baby—fuck, yes—”

“That’s it.” His hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing your clit with quick, ruthless circles. “Make a mess for me. Cum all over my seats, pretty girl.”

You screamed his name, “Hiromi!”—as your orgasm hit hard, clear liquid gushing out of you as your body arched beneath him.

“Yes, baby.” He gasped, looking down to where you squirted across his cock, down your thighs, soaking the leather beneath you.

His eyes were blown wide, his voice hoarse with praise.

“Fuck, baby, I wish that was in my mouth. You taste so good when you cum.”

Still he didn’t stop. He fucked you through your high, chasing your pleasure and drawing more out of you. One orgasm. Then another. And another.

Your body had no chance to recover. He just kept pounding into you, deeper, rougher, his own breath turning frantic.

Then, without warning—you felt him still. His body tensed above you, cock buried to the hilt. You gasped when you felt the first hot rush—his cum spilling inside you again, thick and deep.

“Oh my God, Hiromi—”

He held you down, gritting his teeth as he emptied into you. You could feel it leaking already, even with him fully sheathed.

He brought his lips to yours, kissing you through the aftershocks, through the mess.

Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him close as you whispered breathlessly, “Baby… can we sleep like this?”

His head rested against your shoulder.

“With me still inside you? With my cum still inside you?”

You nodded lazily, lips brushing his ear. “Just for 15 minutes.”

He chuckled, still panting, still trembling.

“Fifteen minutes…”

The two of you rested now. His weight was on top of you. Heavy, comforting. Cock soft but warm inside you.

You could feel the slow thump of his heartbeat against your chest, feel his breath slowing as he kissed your neck once. Your thighs were sticky, the heat of both your bodies fogged up the tinted windows of the car.

Your arms wrapped tighter around him, pressing your nose into the collar of his shirt. He smelled like cologne and sex. And honestly? You loved it.

You breathed in deep. “You smell so good.”

“Yeah?” His voice was gravelly, his throat dry.

You nodded into his shoulder. “Even mixed with the smell of our sex. Especially because of it.”

He hummed against your skin, then tilted his face slightly, lips brushing your cheek as he whispered, “That’s what making love smells like baby.”

You snorted. “No, Hiromi, we smell like sweat, cum, and you being balls deep in me for who knows how long now.”

“I beg to differ.”

You grinned, tired and flushed, relaxing completely beneath him. Your body ached in the best way—your thighs trembling, your cunt full and leaking, your muscles giving up.

Then, you felt it. That slow twitch. That subtle swell. That dangerous fullness returning.

You stilled. “...Hiro?”

He didn’t answer.

“Hiro—” You repeated. “I can feel you getting hard again.”

He sighed, like he was trying to keep it cool, but then his voice came out low, lazy, filthy.

“I wanna eat your pussy, baby.”

You blinked. “Hiro… you came inside of me.”

He rose up a bit and started pressing kisses down your chest, slow and unhurried.

“Did you hear me?” You gasped as his tongue flicked out, teasing your nipple. “Hiro, you’re not that nasty, are you?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his mouth dragging lower.

“You know I’m that nasty, baby.” His voice was husky, dark, hungry. “Nasty for you.”

Then, even lower—he kissed your stomach, then your navel. “Now keep your legs back. Let me clean that pretty pussy.”

Your breath hitched. “Fuck.”

He shifted again, pulling out of you with a wet, obscene noise. He could see the mix of your cum and his spilling out of you, slick and hot against your ass as he pushed your thighs back.

He stared for a moment. His fingers spread your folds open.

“So fucking pretty.” He breathed, eyes hungry as he lowered his face.

He kissed your inner thigh first, slow and open-mouthed, then bit you, sucking until the skin bruised. Then he did the same to the other.

He didn’t waste much time before his tongue met your pussy. Hot. Wet. Perfect.

“Oh my god, Hiromi—”

He groaned into you, his hands pushing your legs apart more as his tongue slid between your folds, lapping up every bit of his own cum mixed with yours.

“So messy.” He growled. “So fucking good.”

His tongue swirled around your clit, sucked it into his mouth, flicked it until your hips bucked into him.

You whined, hand shooting down to grab his hair. “Fuck—yes, yes, right there—”

One of his hands pumped his cock slowly as he devoured you, and the other gripped your thigh like he was anchoring himself.

“I love how you taste, baby. Gonna clean you up so good.”

You couldn’t stop moaning. Couldn’t even breathe right.

He pressed his tongue deep into you, fucking you with it, twisting and stroking your insides as your thighs shook. That sexy nose of his was always in the right place, wasn’t it? Right on your clit and feeling immaculate.

“H-Hiromi—fuck—”

He didn’t stop. He buried his face deeper, sucking, groaning into you like your pussy was his favorite place in the world.

It would be an insult to his skill to say it took nothing for you to cum. No, he knew your body, and that’s why when your orgasm hit, it hit hard.

You cried out, back arching as you squirted—gushing hard, flooding his mouth, soaking the seat again.

He moaned like a man starved, slurping it down.

His tongue slid lower, between your ass cheeks, licking up every drop that ran down. Worshipping you.

“So good, baby. So fucking good. So perfect for me.”

You were shaking, clutching at his hair, your head thrown back, your whole body lit up.

He finally pulled back, licking his lips, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. His cock was red, angry, twitching.

You blinked at him, dazed and breathless. “Hiromi.”

He reached up to stroke your cheek, but you sat up slowly.

“I wanna taste your cum.” You looked at him with those irresistible siren eyes.

His eyes went wide. His hand stilled.

You moved in, grabbing his cock and pumping it slowly. He was close already.

“Wait—fuck—baby—”

You licked his tip, tongue swirling, then took him into your mouth inch by inch.

“Fucking hell—”

Your mouth was warm, wet, so gentle, so perfect. He was panting, his hand on your head, barely able to keep his hips still.

“You’re too good to me. Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum—”

You kept going, sucking deep, tongue dancing around his tip as you stroked him.

Sucking him off genuinely did take nothing. There was something about your lips on his cock that made him cum so fast every time. It was flattering.

Hot, thick spurts of his seed shot into your mouth. You took every drop, not missing a single bit, lips locked around him until he gave you everything.

Then, slowly, you pulled back and opened your mouth, showing it to him. His cum. Still there.

You smiled, swallowing again before leaning in to kiss him. He pulled you in fast, messy, deep, greedy. Your mouths met in a hot tangle of tongues and breath, sharing the taste, sharing everything.

When you finally pulled back, you collapsed against him.

“I’m so tired, Hiro…” You mumbled, cheek against his chest.

His arms wrapped around you immediately. “You did so good.”

“I can’t move.”

“I’ll take you home, sweetheart. Seriously this time.” His lips pressed to your forehead. “We’ll sleep after a bath. I’ll be the big spoon just how you like it honey. Tomorrow morning I’ll order breakfast. I’ll have your favorite tea too.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, “Thank you, Hiromi…”

[softcursechoso]

Memoirs from a Gilded Cage: CH. 9

Attack on Titan x Reader

Black!Reader Levi x Reader Erwin x Reader

Masterlist

MDNI 18+ ONLY //NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS

CH. 9 Warnings: Human trafficking, kidnapping, violence, and just overall not the most pleasant chapter in the world. Levi is going to lose his mind because of you istg!

Words: 8k+

FAR FROM HOME

The Eternal Thread : 12:00am : Mitras

You were going to do something stupid tonight.

The long mirror posted against your workshop wall reflected a woman at the end of her rope. A woman who has seen an unkind world and still decided enough just wasn’t enough.

A leg stretched out, bathed in flickering candlelight, a sheer stocking sliding over your skin. The bruises adorning your legs whisper of past hands gripping too tight, their shapes indistinct now—fading, or perhaps never deep enough to mark you permanently. Shadows of pain or ghosts of old wounds? It's hard to tell. 

Your waist is sculpted by the sewn-in corset of your dress, tight enough to force your breath shallow. Bare shoulders polished like carved mahogany, gleams as you shift, fingers gliding over the last ebony glove as you pull it into place.

Your dress is temptation stitched in silk, black satin against your skin. It clings, flowing like ink, shaping itself to you in ways that leave little to the imagination. The sweetheart neckline plunges, exposing the delicate lines of your collarbone, the daring swell of your chest. 

The sleeves barely rest on your shoulders, teasing the threat of slipping further. The corset constrains you, pressing deep into your ribs, commanding your posture.The slit—dangerously high on an already short dress—gives no illusion of modesty, parting like secrets meant to be unraveled.

You tilt your head, your gaze lingering in the mirror. Lipstick perfect, a dark red. Eyes lined, shadowed with mystery. Hair pinned up with a few curled tendrils left loose, a carefully crafted effortlessness. You look incredible. More than that—you look untouchable.

Your body suddenly goes rigid when a knock at your shop door splinters the silence. Shit.

You freeze, a cold prickle running down your spine, eyes darting toward the curtained front of the shop. No one should be here. Not now. Not when you're dressed like this—too dark, too tight, too knowing. 

You move quickly, stockinged feet soundless against the wooden floor as you slip toward the door, pressing your ear against it.

"I am sorry Miss Greville, but you are not permitted to enter the shop." The voice is firm, clipped. One of the MPs stationed outside.

"I can do whatever I want! This is my sister’s shop!" Ah yes, Tinsley.

Your jaw clenches. You hesitate only for a moment before your fingers move to the lock, unfastening it with a soft click. The door swings open, revealing her standing on the other side, breath uneven, eyes swollen with unshed tears. She’s a mess.

Her chestnut hair, always brushed to a perfect sheen, is tangled, frizzed at the ends. The bodice of her dress, a soft blue thing meant to drape gracefully, is wrinkled, as if she’s been gripping it in her fists. Her lips are pink and raw, bitten from nerves, and her hands tremble at her sides.

Her gaze locks onto you, and something inside her shatters. Her brows pinch, her lips part, but words don’t come. Her eyes, damp and pleading, flicker over your face, down to your dress. 

"How long are you going to shut me out?" She whispers, voice thick. "Months? Years? I miss you."

You stand in the doorway, unwilling to let her in. You had somewhere to be. You had something to do that she could never understand. 

Your throat tightens, but your voice remains steady. "Tinsley, it’s late."

"I don’t care.” She snaps, her lower lip trembling. "You cut me out and—where are you even going?" Her eyes drop, sweeping over you—over the stark black dress, the curve of your thigh peeking through the slit, the bruises your stockings don’t fully conceal.

You take a step back, fingers tightening around the door. "Stop coming here."

Tinsley flinches, her shoulders curling inward as if bracing against a blow. Your words hurt.

"I will come to you when I’m ready.” You continue, voice firm, though the edges of it threaten to fray. "I’m not ready."

She wipes at her eyes, nodding quickly, though it’s clear she doesn’t understand. "I love you.”

You inhale sharply. "Okay."

Then, before the moment can stretch any longer, before she can beg for something you cannot give, you close the door and lock it.

You press your forehead against the wood, breath uneven. Guilt scratches at the edges of your mind, but you push it away. You could open the door again, say something, offer a scrap of comfort—but you don’t. Instead, you let the silence thicken, settling into the spaces where words should have been. 

That was tough. That was really tough, but there is no time for feeling. You straighten. Exhale. There is work to be done. Tonight, you have a mission.

You walk back to your workshop desk and grab a cloak that is draped over your last commission.

The black fabric is heavy on your shoulders- swallowing your figure as you slip out into the underground. You take nothing with you—no weapons, no tools, not even a small knife. Tonight, you go as you are. Vulnerable. A lamb among wolves.

Backstreets : 12:54am : Underground

Levi told you that there are certain hours that are worse than others. Furlan told you that you shouldn’t be out during those hours… but oh how you’ve come to know those hours so well in your search. 

The underground is always filthy, always riddled with suffering, but here—in this part, this dark, rotting stretch of city—it festers with something worse. The smell of sweat, alcohol, and decay clings to the air, and the unpaved paths beneath your heels are slick with filth. 

Figures slink in and out of the alleys, draped in shadow, watching, waiting. The weight of their eyes clings to your skin like grease. You feel the moment you step into their domain, an unspoken shift, as if the predators have caught the scent of fresh prey.

You stop at a street corner, an unremarkable one, yet known to be a hub of filth. Women selling their bodies linger by crumbling walls, their eyes vacant, their bodies barely covered. A woman in nothing but a cloak leans against a post, her face dull with resignation as a man whispers something in her ear. She barely reacts when he tugs her forward. 

The others watch, glassy-eyed, their painted lips too red, their hands clutching at themselves as though trying to stay grounded. Further ahead, a group of men cluster together, low murmurs punctuated by sharp bursts of laughter. Every now and then, they glance over, eyes sharp, measuring. This is where you need to be.

You let the cloak fall. The cool air kisses your bare shoulders, the heavy fabric pooling at your feet. You stand there, letting them look. Letting them take in the dress that clings to your frame, the slit that offers glimpses of your upper thigh, and the deliberate sultriness in your gaze. You don’t need to speak.

They come to you, as expected. The first are bottom feeders—drunks, men who reek of sweat and desperation. They leer, they murmur filth into the air, but they have nothing to offer. You ignore them, gaze flicking past, waiting.

Then, the right ones appear. Two men. Taller, cleaner than the others, but their smiles are practiced, empty. One flashes a wad of bills, fanned out in his gloved hand. He cocks his head, an invitation, a test.

You don’t hesitate. You nod once and step forward. “I’ll have you know my rate is quite high.”

“We can pay it. C’mon.” One man speaks, his hand pressing against your lower back.

They lead you down an alley, and the second you’re out of sight, a rag presses over your mouth and nose. You didn’t expect it to happen so fast, or at all, rather. This wasn’t a part of the mission.

Panic slams through you. You gasp—a mistake. The scent is sharp, chemical, cloying. Your body betrays you instantly, your limbs turning to water, your vision smearing at the edges. Your thoughts scatter like sand in the wind.

Shit.

Darkness swallows you whole.

Unknown : ??? : Underground

When you wake, your body sways. Your wrists burn, bound tightly together. Your feet hurting from the heels you’ve been standing in. You blink against the thick darkness, breath coming in short, panicked bursts. There’s movement around you—soft sobbing, quiet breaths sucked through teeth. The scent of sweat, blood, and unwashed skin clings to the air.

You’re in a cage?

The space is tight, too tight. You shift, trying to turn, but you’re pressed shoulder to shoulder with others. Women. Some are whispering under their breath. Others are silent, eyes wide and glassy. A girl to your left sniffles, trying to muffle her cries. Her dress is torn, the thin fabric barely covering her bony shoulders. She’s young. Too young.

Could this be it? This has to be the trafficking ring you’d been looking for.

Your stomach twists. “What’s going on?” You whisper, your voice hoarse.

No one answers as footsteps sound beyond the bars. A low, oily voice murmurs something to a crowd—an audience? You tilt your head, listening. The words are drowned out by the sobbing, but you catch enough to know what’s happening.

An auction. Panic claws at your chest. This isn’t the trafficking ring you were looking for. This isn’t what you planned for at all. This is worse. Perhaps you made a grave mistake. 

Ever since you split with Erwin, you made it your mission to unearth the ring and find out about the Kuremi. Risking life and limb, you didn’t care so long as it would bring you closer to the answers you needed. You’d been eating the minimum amount to survive, and making stupid decisions, but this just might be the worst. The lack of sleep was clearly impairing your judgment.

The fabric is yanked away from the cage, exposing you to dim lantern light. You flinch at the sudden brightness, blinking rapidly. Beyond the bars, rows of men sit in the shadows, eyes gleaming with interest. Dozens of them. Their faces are indistinct in the gloom, but you see the way their heads tilt, their greedy eyes scanning over every inch of you and the others.

A hand seizes your wrist and yanks you forward as the cage door swings open. You and seven others are dragged out.

You stumble onto the stage, the ground uneven beneath your heels. A woman ahead of you trips and falls to her knees, but no one helps her. She lets out a broken sob as rough hands force her back to her feet. The line moves forward, methodical. You are third.

You stand in place, forced to face the audience. They gossip. Exchange glances. Money passes between fingers.

Your heart pounds. The walls are too close, the air thick with heat and anticipation. You don’t know where you are. You don’t know how to get out of this. This was a terrible idea. Fuck! You have to think!

The room is dim, but not dark enough to hide the gleam in the men’s eyes, the way they shift forward in their seats, their attention fixed on the row of women trembling before them.

The auction runner steps forward, spreading his arms wide, his voice curling through the stagnant air like an oily caress. “Gentlemen.” He purrs, “Feast your eyes on the finest stock the underground has to offer. Soft, delicate things, ripe for the taking. Weak. Vulnerable. Each one untouched and ready to be molded by a man for the first time.”

Your breath catches. Your head snaps toward him, heart hammering against your ribs. 

“How the fuck do you know that?” Your stomach knots. A horrible thought slithers into your mind, cold and suffocating. What happened while you were unconscious? “What did you do?!”

The crowd roars with approval. They revel in your reaction, in the way your body tenses, in the sudden, sharp rise of your breathing. 

The auction runner chuckles, shaking his head. “Look at this one,” he muses, motioning toward you. “Full of fight, isn’t she? But don’t be fooled, gentlemen. She was the easiest to take down. Didn’t even put up a struggle.”

A wave of laughter ripples through the room, coarse and hungry. They are enjoying this. Enjoying you.

Your nails dig into your palms. Fury trembles through you, but you force yourself still. You are on a stage, exposed, nothing more than entertainment to them. Every flinch, every sharp inhale, every flicker of emotion—they are drinking it in, savoring it like a fine wine.

The auction runner grins. “Seems we have a favorite. Perhaps we should start the bidding with you.”

Your pulse pounds in your ears as he steps toward you, tilting his head, considering. Then, with a slow, deliberate drawl, he announces, “A rare breed, gentlemen. A woman with brown skin. Exotic. Uncommon. Last time one like her hit the market was over twenty years ago.”

The breath leaves your lungs. The room fades into the background… He knows something.

The bids begin, fast and fevered, numbers climbing with each passing second. Voices merge into a tangled blur of greed and lust, but your eyes are locked on the auction runner, your mind racing.

“You know about the Kuremi.” The words are on your lips before you can stop them. “You know.”

The auction runner’s gaze snaps back to you, and then he laughs, delighted. “Oh, she’s getting upset! Do you see it, gentlemen? That spark in her eyes?” He leans in slightly, his smirk widening. “Careful, it won’t serve you here.”

The bids continue. Higher. Higher. Until one voice silences them all.

A number is spoken. A number so high it sucks the air from the room. The others fall silent, shifting in their seats, acknowledging defeat.

Your stomach twists as realization dawns. You are now his property. No. NO!

The auction runner grins. “And sold.”

Something inside you snaps. Without thinking, you lunge. The rope around your wrists jerks hard, nearly yanking you off your feet, but you drive forward anyway, feet scrambling for purchase. 

“Tell me what you know!” Your voice is raw, desperate. “Tell me what you know about the Kuremi! Tell me what you know about Abeni!”

You almost reach him—almost—but then the rope tightens, a brutal yank sending you crashing backward. The force knocks the breath from your lungs, your body slamming into something solid.

A hand grips the rope. Holds it firm. The man who bought you.

“No.” One word. Low. Final.

You twist, struggling against the restraint, against the inevitable. “Tell me!” You scream, voice breaking. “Tell me!”

The auction runner only smirks, watching as you thrash against the pull of your new owner, as you fight against the rope that now binds you in more ways than one.

The crowd murmurs, satisfied. The deal is done. Your world shifts, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. The grip on your rope tightens, and before you can react, the man yanks you forward. You stumble, forced into his chest, his breath hot against your ear.

"You belong to me now.” His voice thick with satisfaction. His fingers curl around your arm like iron, unyielding as he drags you away from the stage. 

Behind you, chairs scrape against the floor as several men stand, following in tow. They move as a unit, shadows stretching long under the dim glow of the overhead lanterns.

You twist your head back, eyes locked on the auction runner. He leans against the podium, grinning. Watching. Waiting. You commit him to memory. Brown hair and brown eyes. Thin. Scar under his left eye. 

Then the corridor swallows him whole, and he’s gone. Your pulse pounds in your ears. You need to think. You need to get out of this.

“Are you taking me to the surface?” You demand an answer, voice steady despite the chaos inside your chest.

The man barks out a laugh, sharp and bitter. "Ain’t nobody rich enough for that around here. Nah, but that’s why I bought you. Cause you're gonna make us a lot of money. Gonna turn you into a pretty little whore."

A cold wave of nausea crashes over you. You will not let this happen. You focus, waiting for an opening. Levi drilled this into you—always look for weaknesses. Look for patterns. 

His grip is strong, but there’s a shift, a brief moment where he adjusts. You feel it before you see it, the slight loosening of his hold as he reaches to readjust. That’s your chance.

You twist, sharp and sudden, and drive your knee up with everything you have. The impact is brutal. He lets out a strangled sound, staggering back, his grip instantly gone. You don’t hesitate. You run.

Chaos erupts behind you. Heavy footsteps, curses shouted. “She’s running—catch her!"

The underground is a maze of filth and shadow, but you don’t think. You just move, weaving through narrow alleys slick with grime. Your breath rasps in your throat, feet pounding against the dirt. They’re close. Too close.

Just as you were making headway, you reach a dead end. No. No, no, no—

You whirl around, fists clenching. If you can’t run, you fight. You plant your feet, chest heaving, eyes burning. You’re ready. Levi trained you for this. Maybe not with both hands bound, but still, you won’t go down easy.

You prepare yourself, but before you can make a move, a choked groan cuts through the alley.

One of the men staggers forward, eyes wide in shock. A dark shape stands behind him, small, cloaked. A flash of metal gleams in the dim light—then the man collapses to the ground, a knife buried in his back.

The cloaked figure moves fast, spinning low to sweep another man’s legs out from under him. He falls hard, and you waste no time—you lunge forward, stomping your heel down on his ribs. Your foot comes down so hard you can hear your own ankle crack upon impact. He gurgles, body jerking, then goes still.

Another man charges. The person sidesteps effortlessly, kicking him hard in the ribs. He stumbles back, and you drive your elbow into his face, feeling the crunch of bone. Blood splatters across the alley floor.

One left. He hesitates, eyes darting between you and the hooded person. He makes a choice—turns to run. This other person doesn’t let him.

They surge forward, leaping onto his back, blade flashing. He screams, but it’s too late. He’s already being brought down. You hear the sickening sound of his body hitting the ground, then silence.

You stand there, breathless, taking it all in.

The person turns to you, grabbing your bound wrists. A flick of the knife, and the rope falls away.

“Come on! I know a place where we can lay low.”

You don’t question it. You don’t have time to. You run. Sprinting, hand in hand, lungs burning as you weave through the underground.

Then, suddenly, the scenery changes. The filth, the overwhelming stench, the oppressive walls—everything feels familiar now. Too familiar.

Wait a minute. You know this place. The person drags you up a familiar flight of stairs, through a familiar door, into a dimly lit space that smells faintly of leather and bleach.

Levi and Furlan’s home.

Your knees buckle, exhaustion slamming into you all at once. You collapse onto the floor, gulping air, the adrenaline still roaring in your veins. The person flops down beside you, just as breathless.

You turn your head toward them, mind still spinning. “Who are you?” 

“Isabel Magnolia.” She grins wide with flushed cheeks.

You push yourself up from the floor with every muscle aching as you make your way to the couch. The exhaustion is bone-deep, but your mind races too fast to let you rest. Across from you, Isabel throws herself into a worn chair, her legs draped over the armrest, her wild red hair a mess pulled into two low pigtails.

She watches you carefully, then, with absolutely no hesitation, asks, “Are you from the surface?”

…

Your stomach twists. “No. Why?”

She snorts. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Even with you all beat up and ragged, you look more put together than anyone else down here.”

The bluntness of her words makes your breath hitch. You don’t know how to respond, so you don’t.

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “You’re her, right? The Formulator? You’re the one Levi and Furlan were talking about?”

Your pulse quickens. “Okay, so you do know Levi and Furlan? You didn’t just coincidentally run into a stranger’s house?”

She scoffs, throwing a hand up. “Hey, this is my home too!”

Your brows shoot up. “Since when?”

“Since they took me in. A few weeks ago.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. A few weeks?

You inhale sharply, your body suddenly feeling twice as heavy. You got so lost chasing answers, so wrapped up in the search, that you lost time. Weeks.

Your voice is quieter when you ask, “What did they say about me?”

Isabel leans forward a bit, “That you’re smart. That you don’t look like anyone else. That you’re better. That I’d know you when I saw you.”

You swallow hard. You can only imagine what it sounded like when they said that.

“What the hell were you even doing there?” You question.

She shrugs. “I was just passing through on my way back from the market when I saw you. I wouldn’t have jumped in if I wasn’t sure you were the one Levi and Furlan were talking about.”

You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “They must hate me. I’ve been gone for so long.”

Isabel shakes her head. “They miss you. Somehow they managed to twist everyday conversations into a discussion about you. Hell, I missed you and I didn’t even know you!”

Despite everything, that makes you smile. A small, tired thing, but real. 

“Thanks for saving my ass, Isabel.”

She grins. “Anytime.”

You lean back, eyes drifting to the ceiling. You need rest, but you know you won’t find it here. Your mind won’t let you. Not when the auction runner knew about the Kuremi. He knew.

You stand, but the moment you shift your weight, a sharp pain shoots into your ankle. You stagger, a limp in your step.

Isabel’s eyes widen. “Whoa! You’re not leaving?!”

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t. You can’t. You’re hurt!” She stands quickly, reaching out and gripping your wrist. “Please… if you wanna pay me back for helping you, then stay here and get some rest.”

She’s right, and you know she’s right, but you can’t. You were so close.

You pull out of her grasp just as the front door swings open.You barely have time to turn before Isabel’s voice cuts through the room.

“Hey bro, look who I found!”

Levi and Furlan step inside, the air shifting instantly with their presence. Levi’s face, normally unreadable, betrays the slightest flicker of shock. His sharp eyes take you in, scanning, assessing, but it’s Furlan who reacts first—he has no poker face, never did.

“What happened to you?!” His voice is tight, demanding, concern bleeding into every word. “Where the hell have you been?!”

You force a small smile, lifting a hand dismissively. “I’m alright. I was just… away for a while. I got pretty sick.”

A blatant lie, but you say it so casually, as if the torn stockings, disheveled appearance, and the way you carry yourself like you’re bracing for something don’t completely contradict your words.

Then your gaze flickers to Levi. His expression hasn’t changed, but you can feel the weight of his silence. That oppressive, unrelenting stare.

“Hi, Levi.” You say, teasing, pretending.

He doesn’t answer. That silence thickens, pressing against your ribs like a vice.

Furlan exhales sharply. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.” You brush him off, shifting your weight slightly to hide the way your leg protests the movement. “Anyway, if it’s cool with you guys, I’m gonna go sleep in the back.”

You walk, controlling every movement, keeping your steps careful. You won’t limp. You can’t.

“Come here.” Levi’s voice is quiet but firm.

You pause briefly, feigning ignorance. “What?”

“Come here.” A beat of silence. “Now.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Isabel and Furlan exchange looks, an unspoken ‘oh shit’ passing between them. You ignore them. You ignore Levi. You turn and walk to the back room, closing the door behind you.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you reach for the bed, exhaustion creeping up your spine. You just need a second. Just one moment alone.

The door opens and you hastily turn around just as Levi steps inside. He shuts the door behind him with a calm, controlled movement, but his eyes—his eyes burn.

“You’re really gonna try to hide that from me?”

Your pulse quickens. “Hide what?”

His jaw clenches. “Where are they?”

Your stomach knots, but your expression remains smooth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Levi moves before you can react. He grabs you, firm but not harsh, turning you effortlessly so your back is to him. Before you can protest, before you can twist away, you feel it—the swift drag of your zipper, and the sudden rush of cool air as the fabric loosens from your body.

His hands yank the fabric open. You suck in a breath, hands flying to your chest to hold the dress up, but it doesn’t matter. Levi sees everything.

Bruises. Some fresh, others fading into sickly shades of green and yellow. Deep imprints of fingers along your ribs and your waist. Some marks too precise, too deliberate to be anything but forceful hands gripping you, pushing, restraining. 

The silence that follows is deafening. Levi doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. He just looks, and then, he does what you weren’t expecting. He reaches for you and turns you around to face him.

His hands—those hands, rough and calloused from years of fighting to survive—are devastatingly gentle as he pulls the gloves from your fingers. One by one. His touch lingers, ghosting over your knuckles as he reveals more of the damage. Rough rope marks etched into your wrists.

He moves lower, crouching, pushing the hem of your dress up just enough to see the bruises adorning your thighs. Your breath is uneven, shoulders locked, the back of your throat burning.

Levi is quiet. Too quiet. Then, his hands slide back to your waist, gripping—not hard, not forceful, but firm enough that you can feel the way his fingers tremble.

His voice, when it finally comes, is low, seething. “Where are they?”

You swallow, still facing away. “There’s no one... I… am just clumsy.”

“Bullshit.” He forces you to look at him, those sharp grey eyes burning into yours, demanding. “You’ve been gone for weeks without a word. Then you come back like this.” His fingers press against your jaw, keeping your eyes on him. “Bruises all over you, and this ridiculous fucking limp you probably didn’t think I noticed either.”

You try to look away, but he won’t let you.

“You’re gonna tell me everything.” He growls.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Fuck that.”

Levi shoves you down onto the bed, dropping to a squat before you. His hands rest on your thighs, his grip still firm. He doesn’t move, doesn’t let you hide, doesn’t let you escape.

“You’re gonna talk.” His voice is quieter now, more dangerous. “And I have all night.”

His presence is suffocating, his frustration radiating off him in waves, pressing down on you like a weight. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t blink, just stares at you like he’s trying to pull the answers straight from your soul.

“Tell me who.” His voice is lower now, but no less demanding. “I want names. I want descriptions. I want something.”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Levi’s expression flickers, something unreadable beneath the fury. “What?”

You exhale, steady, detached. “It was my choice to go out. It was my choice to fight. You can’t control me.”

His hands clench into fists. “You’re not easy to look after, you know that? This isn’t a game, and it isn’t fun.” His voice is tight, every word laced with frustration. “You wanna throw your life away? Why?”

“My life is worth nothing! It’s not up to you to appraise me Levi!” Your voice rises, your emotions spilling over like floodwaters breaking through a dam. “If I died today, there would probably be a celebration! It’s my life! I get to live it however I want! I can take care of myself!”

“No!” His voice is sharp, final, slicing through yours like a dagger. “You aren’t cut from that cloth, so stop acting like you are!”

Silence crashes between you. The air crackles with tension, a thick, heavy thing that neither of you know how to dismantle. Levi exhales, slow, measured. His gaze never leaves yours.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know I knew.” His voice is quiet now, dangerously soft. “I know.”

Your stomach twists. “Knew what?”

“I knew from the first time I saw you that you had no business being anywhere down here… Guess I’m a selfish piece of shit too.”

You stiffen. “What?”

He doesn’t answer. He ignores the question completely, “Give me a name.”

“What did you mean?!”

“Give me a description.”

You grab his face, fingers curling against his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “Levi! What did you mean?! How are you selfish?! Tell me!”

“Who did this?”

“Levi!”

He just stares at you. Something flickers in his expression, something vulnerable, something raw, but he doesn’t let you in. Instead, his hands shift, fingers tightening against your thighs like something almost… possessive.

His voice is low, strained. “Why are you doing this?”

You don’t answer.

His grip tightens, just slightly. “Is this why you were trying so hard to leave early last time you were here? To throw away your life?”

You shake your head, voice small. “No.”

He searches your face. “Are you gonna talk to me?”

“I don’t know how.”

“Talk to me.” His voice is rough, edged with something desperate. “Why are you on this warpath? What the fuck has you so wound up that you’re throwing away your life with no regard? What is it?”

You can’t answer. Your throat closes, your vision blurs, and without a word, tears begin to spill down your cheeks.

Levi stills. You’ve never cried in front of him before. Not once, and though he doesn’t say it, you know—he hates this. Hates seeing you like this. You look so heartbreakingly beautiful in your sadness.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He just watches, his grip on your thighs easing up, his fingers flexing as if debating whether to pull you closer or push you away.

The words fall from your lips, barely a whisper. “I have no one.”

Levi exhales sharply, and for a moment, just a moment, his grip turns from possessive to something else entirely—something comforting, something anchoring—but the anger doesn’t leave his eyes. He isn’t letting this go.

Silence lingers between you, thick and charged, neither of you daring to move. Levi’s hands remain firm on your thighs, his touch an anchor, his breath heavy and steady. His eyes, sharp and unrelenting, scan your face, searching for answers you refuse to give.

Then, barely above a whisper, you ask, "Have you ever heard the name Kuremi?"

His brow furrows. "No. Is that who hurt you?"

You shake your head, removing your hands from his face. "No."

Levi doesn’t believe you. His hands shift again, firm, insistent. "Tell me the truth."

You hesitate, eyes flickering down before you murmur, "It’s just a name."

His jaw clenches, frustration mounting. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs your face, positioning it so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. His fingers are warm against your skin, but his touch is unyielding.

"Who hurt you?" His voice is dangerously low, seething. "Are you going to tell me, or do I have to kill everyone in the underground to find out?"

Your breath hitches. His words shouldn’t affect you the way they do, but they do. The sheer ferocity in them, the depth of his anger—it’s not just rage. It’s something else.

"Why, Levi?" You exhale shakily. "Do you really care that much?"

The question hangs between you, heavy and unspoken. Why does he care so much? Why does he look at you like that? Why does he always put himself in the way of your destruction, standing between you and the abyss like he can hold back the tide?

Levi scoffs, breaking eye contact as his hands lower to where they once were. "Don’t be stupid."

Denial. As expected.

You tilt your head, studying him. He looks away, jaw tight, his fingers twitching against your skin. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him avoid something, but this time, it feels different. This time, you wonder if he even understands what’s happening.

A new thought occurs to you. "How did Isabel know who I am?" Your voice is quieter now, almost curious. "What did you say about me?"

That makes him freeze. Now he’s the one avoiding.

"Tell me what you’re looking for." His voice is even, controlled. "You left home for four weeks on a mission to get yourself killed and—"

"Home?" You cut him off, something in his words catching you off guard. 

He pauses. "What?"

"You just said I left home." You watch him carefully. "Here."

It’s so quiet, the tension thickening around you like a storm. Levi doesn’t correct himself. He doesn’t deflect. He just stares at you, as if realizing what he said the same moment you did.

Something shifts inside you, something almost terrifying. Maybe what you’ve been searching for isn’t in the past. Maybe it’s not buried in lost histories or bloodstained memories. Maybe you’ve already found it.

Without thinking, you reach for him again, cupping his face with both hands, your touch softer this time. You rake your fingers through his hair, letting the strands slip between your fingers.

"You need a haircut.” You murmur, your voice barely above a breath.

Levi doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He just lets you touch him, his eyes dark, his breathing slow and measured.

Then, without warning, you grip the back of his neck, fingers curling into the base of his hair. You don’t know why. Maybe to test him. Maybe to feel him closer. Maybe because, for once, you don’t want to think—you just want to feel.

Your eyes flicker down, just for a second, just enough to notice the shape of his lips. Just enough to make your heart race.

You lean in. Just a hair.. Then—

The door flies open, and Isabel barges in. "Okay, that’s enough—whoa!" She stops dead in her tracks, eyes wide, lips parting in sheer disbelief.

You and Levi snap apart, but it’s too late. Isabel sees everything.

Your unzipped dress. Levi’s hands still lingering on you. The tension in the air, thick enough to choke on. The tears drying on your face.

Her lips curve into a slow, amused grin. "Whoops. Sorry! Carry on. I’m leaving."

Your face burns. "Wait, stop! It’s not what you think!" Your hands reach for your zipper, pulling it up as much as you can manage.

Isabel snickers. "I know what I saw."

You groan, shoving past her as you storm into the living room limping, but you can still hear her laughter following behind you. She’s enjoying this way too much.

Back in the room, Levi doesn’t move. He stays where he is, still by the bed, hands resting on his thighs now, staring at the floor like his entire world just tilted on its axis. Maybe he’s not as passive about this as he thought.

You walk out to the living room, still feeling the weight of Levi’s stare burning into your back. The moment you sink onto the couch, Furlan exhales, his usual easygoing smile settling onto his face.

"It’s good to have you back." There’s warmth in his voice. Familiarity. A steadiness you didn’t realize you needed. "Your ankle’s hurt."

You nod, leaning back into the cushions. "Yeah, a little. Guess I’ll have to stay here a while and regain my strength."

The words leave your lips without thought, but once they’re out there, you realize they carry more weight than intended. Staying. Not just resting. Staying. Maybe it’s just exhaustion, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but the idea doesn’t feel as foreign as it should.

Across the room, Isabel is strapping on her ODM gear, tightening the buckles with expert fingers.

You tilt your head. "Where are you going?"

She grins, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Training. I’m getting pretty good at it too!"

Your lips quirk up. "Wow, they’re teaching you to fly just like that, huh? I had to prove my worth by formulating heists before they even let me touch the gear."

Isabel winks. "Guess I’m just special."

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it.

Furlan walks over and takes a seat next to you. Without a word, he reaches for your ankle, lifting your foot into his lap and beginning to wrap it with careful precision. The first brush of pressure sends a sharp jolt of pain up your leg, and you shudder involuntarily.

Furlan’s voice drops lower. "We’re gonna find them. This won’t go unanswered for."

Your breath stills, eyes widening just slightly. There’s a quiet intensity to his words, a promise woven between them. For all of Furlan’s easy smiles and teasing nature, there’s a sharpness beneath it all, a steel edge that rarely surfaces. But it’s here now, clear as day.

You swallow. "Furlan…"

"We missed you." He continues, his touch never faltering as he wraps the bandage around your foot. "You’re our heist planner, but you’re also our friend. We care about you."

You exhale, tension unraveling slightly. "Thanks, Furlan."

You pull your leg back, but the moment you do, you realize something. You snort, shaking your head. "You wrapped this over my stockings."

Furlan pauses, then chuckles. "Well, shit. I’ll redo it after you change, then."

You laugh, and it’s easy, light, something that feels almost normal. Furlan grins, patting your knee before standing.

"Isabel, you ready?" He calls.

"Hell yeah.” She chirps, adjusting the last of her gear. Then she turns to the back room. "Levi! You coming, bro?"

Levi emerges from the back, his presence filling the space in an instant—but when he speaks, it isn’t to Isabel. It isn’t to Furlan. It’s to you.

"No." He moves toward the kitchen, pulling out a chair and sitting down, eyes never leaving yours. "You and Furlan go."

Something about the way he says it—low, steady, decided—sends a ripple down your spine. He doesn’t break eye contact, doesn’t shift his gaze away, and then, after a breath of silence, he continues.

"I need a haircut."

Your heart skips a beat.

Furlan glances between you both, knowing something is in the air. He nods slowly, nudging Isabel toward the door. "Come on, Iz."

"But—"

"Come on." His voice leaves no room for argument.

Isabel glances at you, then at Levi, her lips twitching. "Alright, alright. Don’t have too much fun without us."

Almost too soon now- they’re gone, the door clicking shut behind them.

You and Levi sit in the silence they leave behind, the air thick with something you can’t quite name. He’s still watching you, unwavering, expectant.

Your hands curl into your lap. "You need a haircut, huh?"

Levi nods once. "Yeah."

A small smile tugs at your lips, but you push it down, standing slowly and making your way toward him. The closer you get, the heavier the air feels. When you finally reach him, you hesitate for just a second before lifting your hands, threading your fingers into his hair.

His breath catches, barely audible, but you hear it.

You swallow, steadying yourself. "Alright, let’s fix this mess you left for me.”

The straight razor and scissors sit on the table beside Levi, waiting for you. He must’ve placed them there before calling you over, silently assuming you’d do this for him like you always had. There’s an ease in that assumption, a quiet understanding that neither of you ever voice.

The strands are thick and coarse, a little longer than usual. Your nails graze his scalp lightly, and you don’t miss the way his shoulders relax beneath your touch.

You pick up the razor, pressing your other hand to the top of his head as you begin shaping his hairline, just as you’ve done many times before. The scrape of the blade against his skin is smooth, almost effortless.

“So.” You start, focusing on the first precise stroke, “Where did you find Isabel?”

Levi’s voice is steady, even as you tilt his head slightly to the side. “She found us.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “She’s got fire. I like her. She’ll certainly shake things up around here.”

Levi scoffs, but there’s something almost amused in the sound. “Not more than you.”

That makes you pause for half a second, but you push past it, continuing your work.

His eyes drop to your leg as you shift your stance. “You need to get off that foot.”

You wave him off. “I’m fine.”

Just as you pull the razor away, your ankle wobbles. The pain flares, and before you can catch yourself, you stumble forward—right into Levi’s lap.

His arms come up instantly, catching you. One hand grips your waist, the other bracing against your thigh to steady you. His touch is firm, grounding, and far too warm.

“You need to stop being so damn stubborn and listen sometimes.”

You sigh, trying to push yourself up, but he doesn’t let you. His grip tightens just enough to keep you still.

“I never had anyone to count on,” you admit, voice quieter now. “So it’s hard asking for help, or accepting it.” You glance at him. “You should know that better than anyone.”

You shift again, intending to move, but his arms don’t budge.

“Don’t keep putting pressure on your ankle. You need to stay put.”

You huff a soft laugh. “In your lap?”

His gaze is flat. “Why are you turning this into a thing?”

Heat floods your face. “I’m not! I just…” Words fail you, so you clear your throat and focus back on his hair.

His head tilts slightly under your touch as you move the scissors through the strands, trimming carefully. The closeness should feel awkward, but it doesn’t. It feels… normal. Like this is how it’s always been.

After a long moment, Levi speaks again. “You need to tell me what you’re searching for.”

You hesitate, “Levi…”

“You need to tell me.” He speaks again, firmer this time. “So we can put this shit to rest.”

You shake your head. “Let it go.”

Levi’s hand moves. He grabs your wrist, his grip steady, unwavering.

“Are you going to let it go?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

His fingers tighten just slightly. “Are you going to let it go?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears. You swallow hard, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t.”

Levi exhales sharply through his nose. “Then neither can I.”

The weight of his words sinks into your bones, pressing deep, undeniable. The silence stretches between you. Then, finally, Levi releases your wrist.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with you.” Levi mutters, shaking his head.

You smirk. “Probably let me finish your haircut.”

He exhales sharply, but it’s not really annoyance. More like reluctant acceptance.

You continue trimming, the gentle snip of the scissors filling the quiet. Your fingers move carefully, shaping the cut, smoothing the strands between your fingertips. Levi’s breathing is slow and steady, his hands still resting on your sides.

You focus on his hair, swallowing past the sudden tightness in your throat. “Almost done.”

Levi hums, but doesn’t move.

You take your time, careful with every movement, and when you finally pull back, setting the scissors down, your fingers linger at the nape of his neck for just a moment. Levi doesn’t say anything about it, and neither do you.

You tilt your head, examining your work before grinning. “There he is. The man that’ll have all the ladies swooning.”

Levi scoffs, rolling his eyes, but you don’t miss the faint dusting of pink at the tops of his ears. It’s barely there, but you catch it.

You smirk, brushing the loose hairs off his shoulders, then move to get up. Before you can, his hands settle back on your waist, holding you in place.

“You don’t listen.” He grumbles

You blink at him innocently, lips curving into something playful. “If you want to put your hands on me, Levi, just say that.”

His expression doesn’t change. His grip doesn’t loosen. He speaks in a flat tone. “I want to put my hands on you.”

Your breath catches. “What?”

Before you can process the shift in atmosphere, Levi stands, lifting you in his arms. Your hands instinctively grasp at his shoulders, heart stuttering against your ribs.

“Levi—”

He ignores you, carrying you through the dimly lit space and toward the back room. The motion is fluid, deliberate, like he’s done this a hundred times in his head, but really, he only did it once. He pushes the door open with his foot and strides inside, setting you down onto his bed.

You look up at him, still slightly stunned. “What about the hair? Don’t you want me to clean it up?”

Levi looks down at you, “You’re not gonna get it all up. No.”

Your lips part, offended. “Levi, are we really still lying about this? You love my cleaning.”

He exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “It’s not the worst.”

“Levi, please.” You draw out his name, playful, teasing. “You love my cleaning.”

He just stares at you. For a long, weighted moment, neither of you speak. Then, without a word, he turns to walk away.

Panic flutters in your chest. “Wait!”

Levi stops in the doorway, glancing back. “What?”

You hesitate, pulse hammering. “Come here.”

He narrows his eyes slightly. “What?”

You exhale, a little exasperated. “Stop, Levi. You’re making it less sweet when you drag it out like this.”

He walks back over and leans down at your side. His steel-gray eyes locking onto yours with a quiet intensity.

“What do you want, brat?”

You  wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close. His body tenses, just for a second, before relaxing slightly. He doesn’t pull away.

You press your face into the curve of his shoulder, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry I left. I just don’t know how to depend on anyone else. I thought of you guys every day… I thought of you every day.”

His fingers twitch against the fabric of his shirt. His breath is slow, measured.

“Please don’t leave yet.” You tighten your hold. “Not until I’ve fallen asleep.”

For a long moment, Levi doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Then, with an almost imperceptible sigh, he pulls you away and lies you down before he sits down at the edge of the bed.

You weren’t sure why you asked him to stay, or perhaps you were sure and you just didn’t want to accept the reason. There was a lot weighing on your mind right now. You had a lead, but you knew it would be hard to chase. Levi, Furlan, and now Isabel weren’t going to let you throw yourself back into danger so easily. 

You had a sneaking suspicion that Levi was only letting the topic of who hurt you go in the interest of not stressing you out further, but if you knew him, you knew he’d find them. They would pay.

Proceeding from here would be hard. Look for the man with the scar, or accept the past as something you’ll never truly know? You’d have to choose soon.

[softcursechoso]

Hey, I was just wondering if you’ll be continuing A Gilded Cage. I understand if you’re busy at the moment, you’re an amazing writer by the way :)

Oh yes! I am nowhere near done with Memoirs! That one is my little passion project tbh. I do have the next chapter ready to post actually. Just gotta proofread.

Unfortunately my writing has come to pretty much as screeching halt since I got a massive project thrown on me at work with a short deadline. So I've had to put all of my energy into that. But the good news is that it's almost over and I can go back to my normal writing schedule in about a week 🥳

I appreciate your kind words a lot, and thank you for checking in love ❤️

[softcursechoso]

Somewhere, We Do Ch. 6

JJK x Reader Nanami x Reader

Masterlist

MDNI! // 18+ // NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS!

GIF by chososleftboot

Ch. 6 Warnings: Oh they fuckin! We have arrived at the smut yall. Oral sex, vaginal sex, protected sex, fingering, squirting, pillow talk, sucking tits, making out, showering... have fuuuuun!

Words: 11.1k+

SAVOR THIS EVENING

Nanami Residence : 6:01pm : Nishishinjuku

It had been a couple of days since you made New Year’s Eve plans with Nanami. This was gonna be good. Another date, and a new year. It was an understatement to say you were excited.

The plan to look incredible tonight was nothing short of executed. You decided on a sleek black dress. The way it clings to your curves is like it was poured on and molded for you. The neckline plunges just enough, framing your collarbones and showing off a nice portion of cleavage. Long sleeves that add a little mystery, and a high split to show a bit more skin. Your hair is in an intentionally messy updo, but honestly, even the most stray looking strands were all deliberately placed. 

Your date didn’t miss a beat either. Crisp white button down with the top three buttons undone. He knew what you liked to see. Sleeves rolled up to his forearms in a way that was casual as you were staying in, but still very well put together. Well fitted black slacks, sleek leather belt to match, and on his wrist glints a watch that could undoubtedly cover a couple months worth of rent. All of that mixed with that clean smelling cologne he wore…

To keep it short, you both played to each other’s weaknesses.

Nanami had so generously picked you up from your apartment and drove you to his place. Even though you said you didn’t mind taking a cab, he insisted he drive you. He was a gentleman like that.

The drive was comfortable. It was filled with that easy conversation that you loved. It just flowed so well between the two of you. More than anything though, you were excited to see how this salaryman was living, and certainly you were not disappointed.

You stepped into the lobby of his building, and your breath was taken away. Tall ceilings that stretched impossibly high—adorned with hanging light fixtures that shimmered like champagne bubbles. A gentle waterfall trickled over polished black stone on the back wall. 

The space was modern but warmed. It was lined with massive indoor trees and sleek sculptures. Minimal but bold. The seating area alone was better than anything you owned. Cushioned velvet lounges, fresh floral arrangements in gorgeous vases—This was quiet luxury that spoke for itself. This was wealth. 

You did your best to refrain from gasping, but it was so hard. This was so nice, and it was just the lobby area!

Nanami offered you his hand as he’d guide you over to the elevators. You’d take it- fingers lacing with his in such an easy manner. 

“This place is very nice.” You spoke, craning your neck to look around as you were guided by him. “A shame you don’t get to see it very often since you’re always shackled behind your desk.”

He’d stop before the elevator door and press the up arrow. The sleek grey doors opened, and he’d release your hand to place on the small of your back- guiding you in.

Nanami swiped his key card and pressed the button for the 15th floor. “That is an unfortunate part of the job.”

You shook your head, “It shouldn’t be.”

Before you could say more, Nanami brought your now rejoined hands up and pressed a kiss onto your knuckles.

Your heart was pounding as the elevator doors opened. The hallway was silent. The carpet up here was expensive! It was the kind that muffled all footsteps, both hard and soft as to not disturb the residence. There were only a few doors on this level, which meant each unit must be massive. 

Maybe Kaya was right. He is rich. The fuck?!

Nanami led you to the last door at the very end of the hall. He’d enter his passcode before the lock released with a soft click. He’d open the door for you and step aside.

Okay, you couldn’t hold it anymore. You had to gasp. 

The space was stunning. Floor to ceiling windows lined the far wall. Tokyo’s skyline glittered in the background as the curtains were pulled all the way open. Gentle snowflakes fell, and it was like a scene right out of a movie- no, a fantasy.

His apartment was as modern and pristine as you imagine it’d be, but not in a museum way. It definitely felt lived in. Warm overhead lighting, sleek black and cream colored furniture. Shelves lined with books instead of pointless decor.

What really caught your eye however, was the dining setup. A beautifully set table for two, right near the windows, bathed in the glow of soft candlelight. 

As you went to take off your shoes, you noticed a smaller pair of pink slippers. Definitely way too small for Nanami.

“Where is she at? Because there’s no way.” You looked at him, doing your best to hide that smile of yours.

“I have socks for you too if you’d like.” 

You removed your heels and placed them aside before slipping in the warm slippers. Fuck! They were so cozy! There was no way! How did he know your shoe size? You never told him! He bought slippers for you in advance?! Who the fuck raised this man?! Who?!

“Thank you, Kento.” You reached up, caressing his freshly shaven face.

“Come.” He’d continue to guide you to the table.

Upon arrival, you saw a single rose rested atop a folded piece of parchment. Nanami stepped behind you, his hands slipping to your waist.

“Have a seat.” He pulled out your chair, and you sat down in absolute awe.

You reached for the letter, unfolding it carefully. His handwriting was so neat and perfect, just like he was.

It is an honor to welcome you to my home.

Tonight, I will take care of you, and I take great pride in that.I have prepared everything with you in mind.

I hope by the end of the night you will know how deeply I admire you.

Savor this evening—savor this time, because I fully intend to savor you.

Your breath caught. Jaw dropped as you slowly looked up at him. “Kento. How the fuck am I supposed to keep my clothes on under these conditions?!”

He chuckled at your response before leaning down to kiss you. “I never set a dress code for you.”

“You’re trying me, Kento.” 

He pulled away with a slight smirk, “I’ll get the food.”

As he turned away toward the kitchen, your mind was racing. It was the second date and he did all of this?! He was incredible. There wasn’t a stone left unturned. 

It didn’t take long for him to retrive the food. The scent of butter, seared wagyu, and truffle filled the space. It was rich. It was decadent. It was like the kind of indulgence only reserved for special occasions. Guess it was New Year’s Eve.

Your stomach clenched with anticipation and the aroma alone made you almost salivate. You could see him in the kitchen from where you were sitting. Nothing rushed, but nothing unnecessary.

Even the way he brought the food to the table felt like an act of devotion. When he lifted the silver cloche, a delicate cloud of steam billowed out, revealing the most exquisite plate of food.

A perfectly seared wagyu steak, glistening under a coat of black truffle butter sat in the center. The marbling was insane, so intricate it looked like art. Beside it, silky mashed potatoes, whipped to absolute perfection, a delicate drizzle of butter pooling in the center. Then, there was the asparagus, bright green, still holding onto its crispness, dusted with flaky sea salt and crushed black pepper. Mmm!

Everything was plated with care, not a single element out of place.

“Kento! This is so beautiful!”

Your eyes moved to his as he poured a glass of red wine. The deep ruby liquid would certainly pair nicely with such a meal.

He’d lean down and kiss you once more, “I hope you like it.”

You’d not dig in right away. You waited for him to put the cloche’s away and take a seat across from you. Only then, when he settled in, did you finally cut into the stake… if cut is what you’d call it.

The knife slid through the meat so easily. It was like silk. Upon bringing the piece to your lips, you’d open wide and taste the best steak you ever had. It melted the moment it touched your tongue. 

Juicy, buttery, rich beyond words. You moaned, “Mmm, this is so incredible. Why would I ever go to a restaurant again? You are too modest for all the talents you have.”

Nanami nodded, pleased, “I’m glad you like it.”

You shook your head, “Like it? No, I love it. The letter too. This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”

His brows lifted, “Really?”

“Yeah.” You rolled your eyes playfully, cutting into another bite, “I had a mean streak for getting involved with shitheads, so I kind of just stopped dating like midway through college.”

“Stopped?”

“Mhmm.” You took a sip of the wind. “After my last boyfriend cheated on me with Kaya’s friend from Yale, I didn’t really date anymore. Kaya still beats herself up over it to this day. I never blamed her though. It’s all water under the bridge. I mean, even outside of the cheating, there were a lot of factors that made the relationship impossible to move forward with.”

Nanami was silent for a moment before speaking again. “Was your only serious relationship in college, or did you date someone before that?”

A slow, mischievous smile crept across your lips. “Are you asking if I dated anyone while I was at Kyoto Jujutsu High?”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, “Didn’t think you’d admit that so soon into the date.”

“Me either.” You leaned forward slightly, resting your elbow on the table now. “That is how I met Utahime. She was a mentor while I attended. She was from a previously graduated class, but she wasn’t teaching quite yet… I knew I couldn’t hide this part of myself from you for long… especially after I gave you-”

“A cursed tie?” He finished your sentence before you could.

You snorted, “So you knew?”

“Why do you think I laughed?”

You quirked up an eyebrow, “Because it was really ugly?”

“I laughed because you gave me a cursed tie. At first, I wasn’t sure if you knew, but after seeing you out with Utahime, it all but confirmed it.” 

You let out a dramatic sigh, “Whelp, we better knock this part out before things start getting good.”

Nanami set down his glass, amused expression on his face, “Getting good?”

You smirked, before eating a bite of mashed potatoes. "Mhm. I don’t want this dinner to take a turn in the right direction only for you to pause in the middle and ask me why I stopped being a sorcerer."

You chewed slowly, savoring the silky texture of the potatoes before pointing your fork at him, “You aren’t off the hook either by the way. I’ll tell you my deal, but you better answer for yourself too.”

“That’s only fair.” His gaze was unwavering, settling on you with undeniable curiosity. “What grade sorcerer were you?”

You nearly choked on your wine, “Damn Kento! Don’t just jump straight into the juicy questions!”

"Fine.” He conceded, slicing effortlessly into another piece of his steak. "Then, what is your cursed technique?"

Your jaw dropped. "Kento!"

He tilted his head slightly. "Still too juicy?"

You groaned, setting your utensils down. "Yes!"

He sighed, slightly entertained by your desire for order. "Fine, then tell me in the order you want."

“Alright, I guess there’s no real order to these things, so I’ll just tell you.”

You exhaled, considering for a moment. Then, with a small nod, you reached into your purse on the floor, fingers brushing against cool metal. From it, you pulled out a wax seal stamp.

Ancient. Ornate. The handle was worn smooth, the surface engraved with an unfamiliar sigil. The weight of it felt familiar, grounding.

You held it up. "This is the weapon of my choice."

Nanami studied it. "A wax seal stamp?"

You’d nod, “A wax seal stamp.”

He lifted a brow, “I’ve seen a lot of cursed weapons, and that’s not one of them. I don’t mean to be crass, but why is it so unremarkable? Of course I’m only speaking of the energy. It’s a very beautiful seal.”

“I’m glad you asked.” You looked at the small seal, “It’s a weapon that can only be used by yours truly. If it’s not obvious already, my technique is called Seal. I have five of them that I can alternate. The main three are strength, speed, and tilt.”

“Tilt?” Nanami rose an eyebrow. 

“It’s an equilibrium thing.” You tapped your fingers against the table as you tried to think of the simplest way to explain. “Think of my techniques like stats. I can use my technique on myself or others, and I can stack up to five seals at once. Five strength means’ I’m knocking your head clean off with no effort. Or maybe I wanna mix it up. Two speed, two strength, one tilt. Balance. Both strength and speed can also be reversed.”

“Versatile.” Nanami nodded, listening intently.

“Yup. Strength can weaken, and speed can slow. Tilt doesn’t reverse, but if you stack five, that could be enough to knock someone out of a fight- depending on the opponent of course.” You paused for a moment, “Based on that alone, I was deemed a Grade 2 sorcerer.”

Nanami’s eyebrows rose. “That’s very impressive, especially for a first year. You must have been a force.”

You exhaled slowly, “I was a Grade 2 until I got a handle on my last two seals and got reassessed.”

“Right. You said there are five.”

Your voice dropped slightly, “There’s the Decree of Auto Life that negates a fatal blow- not a reversible technique.”

“As in-?” He wasn’t really asking a question, though he did want to hear an explanation.

“If someone lands a strike meant to kill me while the seal is active, I won’t die. Doesn’t mean I’ll come out on the other side unscathed, but I’ll survive. It works once per activation. I can reapply it to myself or others as many times as I want, but if I do, all my other seal’s will be reset. So say someone pierces my heart with the auto life on, and four stacked slow seal’s on my opponent. I’ll survive, but if I want to reapply the Decree of Auto Life I’ll have to release those slow seals to do it.”

“I imagine reapplications wouldn’t be too difficult.”

You shrug, “Again, it depends on the situation.”

You sighed as you looked at your weapon of choice. You hadn’t even mentioned this technique in years. It felt like if you spoke the words a headhunt would start all over again.

“Then there’s the last one… the one I use on myself every day… the one that deemed me a Special Grade sorcerer… no recommendation required.” 

Nanami’s eyes widened just a hair more. That was a massive leap from Grade 2 to Special Grade. Yes, auto-life was incredibly strong, but not exactly Special Grade strong. Then again…Nanami never saw you fight.

“It’s the Seal of Absolution.” The silence felt heavy as you spoke it. “Should this seal touch your skin, it will lock away all of your cursed energy for as long as my technique is active. That’s why you never sensed my cursed energy. I have a seal on myself, and therefore I can blend in.”

His eyes narrowed, “Even now you’re downplaying your abilities. You’re incredibly strong. You speak so casually, but a Special Grade rank is not handed out.”

“Well, those two techniques and my domain expansion really seemed to impress.”

“Do tell.”

You shrug, “It’s just a library. Nothing too crazy.”

His gaze lingered. He knew there was a vital piece of information missing. Maybe if you didn’t say it he could at least feel it for himself. “Would you lift your seal?”

You blinked, “Right now?” You laughed, “Absolutely not. I am trying my best to do some freaky shit tonight, and I don’t need every curse and sorcerer in the area fucking this up for me.”

Nanami choked on his wine. So caught off guard by your blunt words. “Well, when you put it like that.” He’d take a moment to regain his composure. “Why did you quit? Being a sorcerer, that is?”

“Why did I quit being a sorcerer?” You repeated his words, attempting to buy yourself some time. “Umm… people wanted to use me for the wrong reasons… There were people who heard of my technique. My Seal of Absolution. I became like some urban legend. Stories about my power grew legs, and they weren’t wrong, but they didn’t know me.”

“Stories like what?”

There was something so comforting about Nanami’s presence that allowed you the peace to ever retell this story. Kaya already knew the details of it, and you wouldn’t even wanna repeat it to her. But for Nanami, you’d open up.

“Take this with a grain of salt, okay? One rumor became very popular amongst sorcerers. Theoretically, if I could stack five Seals of Absolution onto Gojo—this is what they say—it’d nullify his Infinity technique. It would only seal that one ability since it’s not touching his skin, but it would leave him wide open. Enough for a very powerful sorcerer to kill him.”

Not many things were shocking to Nanami, but this- this was pretty jarring. “So… would that really work?”

“I never tried it.” You smiled softly, “I never even met Gojo until our first date… but knowing how the Seal of Absolution works… I wouldn’t need all five.”

Nanami’s gaze darkened just slightly, “A power like that—many people would kill for, I’d imagine.”

You nodded, “Too many people, actually, and it wasn’t just because of the Seal of Absolution, though that was the most popular reason. It was for my entire arsenal. Some wanted me for government work. Others wanted me for less noble causes.” Your jaw flexed just slightly, “One guy even tried to get me to join his cult.”

“A cult?” He sounded floored, but not exactly shocked.

You hummed, “Yup. He was very good at talking too. He almost had me.” You sigh, “It was a really strange relationship during my third year. He wasn’t a student though. We’d just meet up. Have lunch together. Share the same bento, pass around the same melon drink, and talk about nothing that would change either one of our lives.”

“And things got serious?” He asked in a way that was slightly perceptive, and curious.

You snorted, “What did I tell you about my track record with shitheads? We hung out every day. Talked about nothing every day. And after all that, he, out of the blue mind you, pitches me this fucked up idea to join his cult. I was like hell no.”

“Smart choice.” Nanami huffed.

“I just felt like if someone so close to me could try to use me for my ability, then I don’t know who to trust anymore. I flew back to the States, went to Duke, became a Lambda Phi sorority girl, and decided that returning to Japan would mean sealing my energy so no one could disturb me anymore. That way I could know that my relationships were authentic… or at least hope.”

“If you’re wondering if this is real-”

“I’m not.” You cut him off. “Kento, a lot of stupid shit that happened in the past has shaped how I move today. I know this is real, because you pulled me out of something dark when you met me. I told you that. But hell, if it’s not real- just let me dream a little longer.”

The words you spoke were unwavering. Real. Nanami knew that, and that’s why your words were met with his precious smile. Like a little ray of sunshine.

Your past was ancient history now, all of that, but it wasn’t quite as simple as you put it. You chose to be brief however, because the details no longer mattered. It was probably the most stressful time of your life, and not something you liked thinking of very often.

“Anyway, that’s the brief version. I’m still curious about you though. What grade, and why did you stop?”

He got serious when you asked. Like really serious. You saw it in the way his posture stiffened. The way his eyes sharpened. How his breaths deepened.

“I was a Grade 1, and the story of the reason why I quit would put a damper on this evening.” He nodded politely, “I don't want to do that. Especially since I dedicated tonight to pleasing you.”

Nanami was surprisingly open with you every time you spoke. He may hesitate or pause, but still speak truthfully. If he wasn't telling you outright, then that was because he was still hurting. The wound from whatever made him quit in the first place wasn't fully healed yet.

You nodded, “Of course. I totally understand. Let's stop talking about old us anyway. Let's talk about the present. Like this dinner for example.”

“Let's talk about it.”

“I mean, first of all- can you even hear me way down there?” You teased. 

He knew what you were doing. If the table were any smaller, your plates would be overlapping. Big enough for a lovely dinner, yes, but small enough for two. 

“Huh? I can barely hear you.” He leaned back in his seat- eyes locked onto yours. His legs spread just enough to look inviting. “Come over here.”

Yes, sir!

He was humoring you.

You bit your lip, grabbing your plate as you made your way over to his side of the table. “That's what I thought.”

It was as if you couldn’t get over there fast enough. He made enough room between himself and the table that you could fit easily, but he made sure to leave it just tight enough so that you’d feel the weight of his proximity.

Nanami exhaled, deep and pleased, the moment you settled into his lap. Sitting with your legs to the side, you made yourself right at home. His grip was immediate—one hand firm over your waist, his touch searing through the fabric of your dress.

His cologne wrapped around you—deep sandalwood, a hint of bourbon, and something distinctly him. He switched it up tonight. This wasn’t his normal scent, but still so intoxicating.

You took another bite of food, deliberately ignoring the way his palm shifted lower.

His voice was smooth, low in your ear. "I know I said it before, but… I really like this dress."

You swallowed, smirking. "Oh? You like me a little more covered up?"

His fingers traced a slow, path down your hip. "Not necessarily." He’d pause. “...I just think this fabric would look nice pooled on my floor."

You nearly choked. "Kento!"

His eyes and his touch were steady. He didn’t waver. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t break eye contact.

The air between you crackled, so thick with tension that your entire body felt hyper-aware of where his hands rested, how solid and strong his thighs felt beneath you.

"Prove me wrong.” He followed up with a very bold challenge.

Kento! Fucking! Nanami!

Your fingers traced the sharp lines of his jaw, moving up to the back of his neck, slipping into the soft undercut of his hair.

You tugged—just a little. "Stop making me horny. I at least wanna make it to dessert."

His fingers pressed into your waist. "You can have your dessert, and I can have mine too."

A sharp shiver ran down your spine.

"Fuck." Your breath hitched. "How am I supposed to keep my dress on with you looking at me like that?"

Nanami’s fingers dug in a little more, just enough to feel. "I’m not passive in this moment. We are two adults who know what we want. There’s no need to beat around the bush."

You leaned in, speaking against his lips. "I see what you’re doing."

Nanami’s eyes glimmered knowingly. "Oh?"

"Trying to pull a fast one on the universe before she fucks this up for us."

He smirked before leaning in to kiss you. "You know me so well."

It started slow—firm, like he was memorizing the way you felt against him. Your fingers tightened against the back of his neck, and his hand slid lower, gripping the curve of your ass.

The kiss deepened. His tongue slipped past your lips, warm, tasting like wine and something richer, deeper. You moaned softly into the kiss, and his grip tightened.

His other hand found your breast, his thumb brushing over your clothed nipple. A sharp, pleasurable jolt shot straight through you.

You pulled back, breathless. Nanami’s lips glistened slightly, eyes dark. He’d maintain eye contact for as long as he could as he leaned down.

His mouth opened, and he’d bite your nipple through the fabric. A soft nibble that made you very aware of this man's capabilities.

A sharp gasp left your lips. "Kento—"

His tongue followed, pressing slow circles over the fabric, the heat of his mouth making your body arch. The material of your dress was by no means thin, but it wasn’t thick either. It was just enough that you felt everything he was doing to you, with the desire for skin to skin building up underneath it all.

Your grip tightened in his hair. You could already feel it. The way your body was burning, aching, desperate for more. There would be no distractions tonight. You couldn’t wait to finally have him.

"Do you still want dessert?" Nanami’s voice was low, velvety, his hands firm where they rested against your waist.

You exhaled, your mind still fogged with desire from the way he kissed you, the way he touched you, the way his presence alone was enough to leave you aching.

"Is that a trick question?" You teased, though your voice was breathless.

Nanami tilted his head slightly, a slow, knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Not at all."

Before you could question his intentions, he scooted back his chair, smoothly lifting you into his arms as if you weighed nothing.

A startled laugh escaped your lips. He carried you with steady, confident strides toward the kitchen, the air between you thick with a tension so palpable, it felt like the entire room was buzzing.

When he set you down on the cool marble countertop, you watched as he moved toward the fridge. You took the moment to catch your breath, taking in how effortlessly he commanded the space. 

The way the light in the kitchen illuminated the sharp angles of his face, the way his dress shirt clung to his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up just enough to expose the strong definition of his forearms.

Then he turned, carrying a gold-rimmed porcelain plate, and carried it over to you with pride- revealing an artful arrangement of Mont Blanc Chestnut Verrine. Layers of silky vanilla bean mousse, delicate chestnut cream, and a rich, buttery sable biscuit at the bottom.

You blinked, stunned.

"Whoa." Your eyes flickered between the dessert and Nanami. "You made this?"

He nodded once. "I did. I saw how much you liked that mont blanc when we first met, so I thought I’d make it for you this time... Enjoy."

He handed you a spoon, and you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. "Why did you say it like that?"

His gaze was steady, unreadable—but there was a flicker of something devious there. "Say it like what?"

You scoffed. "You're up to something."

Nanami simply tilted his head, his lips twitching at the corners. "No. I just want you to enjoy it."

Your suspicion deepened, but you weren’t about to turn down a dessert this beautiful. As soon as you scooped the first bite into your mouth—something shifted.

Nanami lowered himself in front of you onto one knee, moving with silent, deliberate intent.

Your spoon froze mid-air. "Kento—?"

"Enjoy your dessert."

His hands found your ankle first, strong thumbs tracing slow, methodical circles over your skin.

You swallowed hard as he pressed a lingering kiss to your ankle. He’s slide your slippers off so he could delicately massage your foot. Then he’d press another kiss to your shin… your calf... Then higher.

Oh!

The spoon almost slipped from your fingers.

Each kiss was scalding—deep, reverent, unbearably slow. His lips branded a path up your leg, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched. "Kento, I—" 

Your voice faltered completely when he spread your knees apart, positioning himself between them. He rose a bit more on his feet so he could be where he needed. Not too high. Not too low.

The warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin. You clenched the spoon between your teeth, eyes locked onto him. The way his broad frame filled the space between your thighs was almost overwhelming.

His lips pressed onto your thigh, inching agonizingly close. One low. One kiss in the middle. One kiss at your upper thigh. All you could do is watch—almost paralyzed by his touch.

His eyes—dark, molten, hungry—never left yours as he leaned in again, placing a kiss right over the thin lace of your black panties.

Your body jerked slightly at the sensation. "Oh, my God."

“You wore these for me?” He asked rhetorically. “I like them.” He’d lean in to plant another kiss.

You gasped sharply, fingers gripping the marble counter edge, trying to ground yourself.

He made sure to maintain eye contact as his tongue drew a stripe right over your already soaked panties. 

"You taste so good already." He murmured against the fabric. “But I want a little more.”

“Fuck, Ken-”

You could swear that your vision was blurring. You needed his touch. It felt almost painful just to wait for it. He knew he needed to relieve you. He wanted to. 

You bit your lip, already unraveling, already dizzy, and you were certain that whatever restraint you had was seconds away from snapping.

And yet—Nanami was still taking his time. Still drinking in every reaction. His hands slid up, fingers hooking into the delicate lace. And when he finally slid it aside—you couldn’t keep in your gasp.

He exhaled slowly, a soft smile on his face now. "So pretty." He’d use his fingers to spread your pussy open just enough to see that slick arousal that was already prepping your body for him. “So wet for me. I suppose that deserves a reward.”

His fingers pulled back, and his tongue slid against your folds, hot and silken, tasting you inch by inch. Your entire body arched sharply. The spoon clattered against the countertop.

Nanami didn’t stop. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, tilting you just enough to let him devour you properly.

“Shit!” You exhaled, leaning back so that your forearms were flat against the counter. 

His tongue flicked against your clit, slow and torturous. Your fingers tangled into his hair, hips rolling instinctively, desperate for more.

"Yes—Kento, just like that—"

He groaned softly against you, the vibration shooting pleasure straight through you. Your moans spilled freely, the sounds almost too loud in the quiet kitchen. You were a little scared to make so much noise, but he wasn’t going to have that.

"Let me hear it.” He murmured against your skin, voice dark, deep, commanding. "Don’t hide it."

Oh, fuck. Of course he notices.

His tongue moved lower, circling your entrance before slipping inside—deep, firm, relentless.

Your thighs trembled and your back arched. “Ah! Yes Kento!”

Your entire body tightened, pulsing, the pleasure coiling dangerously close. "Kento, please—"

You were so close. He continued at his pace. You could feel his thick, hot tongue inside of you, and it felt so intimate. Beyond just the pleasure of it all, it felt like something so insanely deep and personal. 

Your hand on his hair gripped tighter, and you could feel it coming. Yes! That deep wave of pleasure rushed your body. Nanami kept up with his mouth on you. Pleasing your body just right so that you could ride this high for as long as the wave went. How was he this good? 

His head lifted slightly as your body came down from its high. His hazel eyes locked onto you. "You still have dessert."

You blinked hazily. Your brain barely registered the words. "Yeah?"

Nanami dragged his tongue over you, slow and sinful. "Finish it."

Your entire body shuddered. "I can’t eat when you make me feel like this—"

He chuckled, the sound low, amused—deadly. “I’m sure you can make some headway.”

You were certain that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he wrung every last bit of pleasure from you. He didn’t give a shit about this dessert. He just wanted to see you struggle.

Nanami’s breath was warm against your skin, his lips pressing kisses into your thighs once more.

He parted your legs further before placing his hands firm on your waist- pulling you to the absolute edge of the counter. You felt the heat of his touch, the way his fingers kneaded into your skin, claiming you in ways words could never quite convey.

Then, his teeth. You gasped as he bit down—just enough pressure to make your thighs tremble. The sharp sensation sent a delicious jolt through your core, and you could do nothing but arch into him, wordlessly begging for more. He wanted to leave your thigh with a little souvenir. 

“Kento!” You breathed, gripping the strands of his golden hair.

His tongue soothed the bite, his lips working tenderly over the spot as if to mark you with something else—to brand you, to make sure you’d remember this touch long after the night was over.

When he pulled back, his gaze flicked up to yours. Dark, knowing, utterly insatiable.

His fingers lifted to his lips, coating them with his own saliva, and then they were back on you—tracing, teasing, exploring. Not that your pussy needed any help getting lubricated, but hey, he was a generous lover.

The first touch was devastating. The slick glide of his fingers over your sensitive nerves made your breath stutter. Slow, purposeful strokes. Each one igniting something deeper, something dangerous. Then—lower.

His fingers toyed with your entrance, teasing the edge of something far more consuming. With little resistance, he pushed in. One thick finger at first. You gasped, body instinctively clenching around him. Then another.

“You like how that feels?” He asked, already knowing.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, gripping harder, guiding him deeper.

“Oh my God, Kento—yes! I like how that feels!”

He let out a pleased hum, his fingers moving with measured precision—not too fast, not too slow. Just enough to ensure you’d never forget how he made you feel.

His mouth found you again, tongue circling, flicking, tasting your clit. His lips parted just enough to take you fully against his tongue, and you cried out. His fingers curled as they explored. He was going to find the right…. spot.

Your thighs shook, your breath coming quicker, shallower. He felt it. He knew.

“You’re close again.” He spoke pleased against your skin. His voice gravelly and controlled.

Your body tightened around him, the pressure rising, burning, breaking. “You aren’t supposed to know that!”

His pace quickened. Your grip tightened, and then everything shattered. The pleasure rushed through you once more. Raw and unstoppable. Your body arched sharply, a cry leaving your lips as you drowned in the feeling of him.

Somewhere beneath the haze of your high, you felt him hold you tighter, his lips dragging over your skin, whispering something so soft, so reverent, you weren’t even sure if it was real.

By the time you finally caught your breath, your body was trembling—not from the cold, not from exhaustion, but from him.

Nanami was still there, still watching you, still taking in the sight of you in your most vulnerable state.

When you managed to speak, your voice was hoarse—breathless. “…I’m not finishing this damn dessert.”

Nanami huffed out a quiet laugh, standing back to his full height, licking your slick from his lips. His eyes never left yours. “That’s okay.”

Nanami’s fingers were still buried deep inside you, working slow, deliberate circles that had your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. His name left your lips in a breathy moan, your hands gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

“Kento.” You managed, “I will not let you unravel me on this counter.”

His movements slowed, but he didn’t pull away immediately. You could feel his gaze on you, heavy and dark with desire. A silent challenge.

Then, finally, he withdrew his fingers. You exhaled, but the loss of his touch only made you ache more. Your body already missed him.

You watched, mesmerized, as he brought his fingers to his mouth. His tongue flicked over them, tasting the slick evidence of your arousal. A slow, deliberate drag of his tongue as he savored the remnants of you.

Then his gaze locked onto yours, sharp and smoldering. “Where would you like to be unraveled?”

Well… damn.

You certainly weren’t expecting that question. Since he asked, it was only fair to give him an answer though.

“Let me see the bedroom. Show me.”

He pulled you from the counter with ease, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs winding around his waist. His body was so firm, so solid beneath your touch. His scent wrapped around you like a spell.

You kissed him deep, your tongue slipping past his lips, tasting yourself on him. It was unforgettable.

His hands slid down, fingers digging into the soft curve of your thighs as he carried you through the dimly lit apartment. You barely registered how beautiful his home was—all dark wood and modern accents, sleek lines and understated luxury. A space that was undeniably his.

Then, you were in his bedroom, and the mood changed completely. Not your mood, no. The mood of the room. When people say this is where the magic happens, they are talking about rooms like this.

A king-sized bed dominated the space, adorned with dark, luxurious sheets that looked soft enough to sink into forever. A single lamp cast a golden glow across the room, catching on the subtle sheen of your skin.

Nanami set you down, his lips trailing the length of your jaw before he pulled back.

“Will you help me out of my dress?” You whispered, your voice sultry, teasing.

You turned around slowly, pressing yourself back against him, your ass deliberately pressing against his confined cock. The hard, undeniable proof of his size made your heart race. Not that you could ever forget anyway.

You bent forward slightly, hands resting on the bed for balance, arching your back just enough to make the movement intentional.

His hands landed on your hips, firm and possessive, fingers tracing the delicate material of your dress before gliding higher.

You could feel the warmth of his breath against your shoulder as his fingers found the zipper.

A slow pull, and the fabric peeled away inch by inch, exposing the delicate lace beneath.

The cool air kissed your skin as the zipper reached the small of your back. Nanami’s lips met your spine. A slow, reverent trail of kisses, each one more searing than the last.

You let out a quiet, shuddering sigh, eyes fluttering closed. God, he was going to change your life. Shit, he already has. 

“What’s this?” You felt Nanami’s thumb run across your lower back.

It was the size of a quarter with words that were too small to read, and not in any language he knew. A tattoo? Or a brand? It looked like a welt mark maybe? 

Your eyes widened a bit as you had almost forgotten. “That is the Seal of Absolution. Had to put it in a place no one would look…”

You turned, watching as he took in the full sight of you. The dress slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. You stood there, adorned in black lace lingerie meant to be looked at.

A sheer, delicately embroidered bra, with intricate lace framing your curves, leaving just enough to the imagination, but not much. It was paired with a black thong that was barely there, but sat on your hips so nicely.

You bit your lip softly, “If the sight of my seal bothers you I can always lift it. Have a few curses ruin our good time.”

You were playing games. You knew damn well that he was not looking at that seal. It didn’t bother him at all, and even if it did, there was no way he’d be able to focus on it with a woman like you in front of him. 

His breathing changed. The muscle in his jaw ticked as he raked his gaze over you, absorbing every inch, every detail. “Shit. You look, incredible.”

“Thank you, Kento.” You kept your voice steady. Stepping closer, your fingers traced the buttons of his shirt. “You are right though. My dress does look good on your floor.”

His hands moved before he spoke, unbuckling his belt with slow precision. His gaze never left yours.

His voice was deep, rough with hunger. “I need to be inside you.”

Your breath caught. Your pulse hammered. He was quite candid when horny. Noted.

You lowered yourself onto the bed, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. The lace fell away, exposing your bare breasts to the cool air.

You leaned back, resting on your elbows, your lips curling into something sinful. “Come on then.”

His hands were already at the buttons of his shirt. You watched, completely enthralled, as he discarded it. The sculpted lines of his chest, and fine edges of his abs were something to behold. It was as if someone plucked this man from your deepest fantasies and carved him to perfection. 

Your eyes dropped lower. The belt slid from its loops. His pants loosened. You swallowed hard, your throat dry, your pulse erratic.

You already knew. You had felt it, but now, you were about to see it. Maybe it was dramatic, but you knew you would never be the same again. 

He stopped just short of revealing himself to you. He noticed the way your demeanor changed just a little bit. How you were still building up the nerve to take him on. 

Nanami’s hands were firm yet reverent as they traced down your thighs- fingers skimming over the delicate skin before hooking beneath the band of your black thong. The last article of clothing you had left.

His eyes met yours, dark and heavy as he pulled the fabric from you. You’d lift your hips to help him just a little bit. As he pulled away you could feel the fabric cling to you from the very obvious wetness. The cold air now sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re nervous.” His voice was smooth, rich, but impossibly gentle as he placed your underwear on the floor.

Your lips parted slightly, caught between the steady rise and fall of your breath. “Maybe a little.”

You weren’t scared, but you were overwhelmed by the sheer presence of him—by the way he looked at you, by the weight of this moment, by the knowledge that this was about to happen… and he saw it all.

Nanami leaned forward, capturing your lips in a slow, unhurried kiss. His mouth was warm, precise in its devotion- coaxing every ounce of tension from your body with every deep, lingering press of his lips.

“Don’t be nervous.” He whispered against your mouth.

Nanami pulled back, letting his gaze trail over every inch of your bare skin. The way his chest rose and fell heavier now, the way his jaw tensed—it was everything.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He backed up so he was back on his feet.

He’d continue to work on his pants again. They were already unfastened and now he began to push it down, along with the black boxer briefs that separated you from seeing him in full.

You could hear the expensive fabric and the clink of his belt hit the ground. Your eyes were so tuned in that all of your other senses nearly faded into the background for a moment.

When he stood before you, bare and undeniably commanding, your eyes widened slightly. This only confirmed every suspicion you had. Thick, long, flushed, and veiny. Now you knew, without a doubt, and it was kind of scary, but at the same time, he was so well groomed that it was kind of pleasing to the eyes. The way it curved upwards just slightly told you that this man was built for your pleasure. Fuck. You were so horny.

Nanami saw the way your breath hitched, the way your gaze lingered a little too long.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Don’t look at me like that.” His voice deep and dangerously smooth.

Your tongue ran across your lips as your eyes looked back up at him. “Like what?” You asked feigning innocence—even though he could see right through you.

Nanami exhaled slowly, shaking his head as he reached toward his nightstand. You watched, entranced, as he pulled out a condom, tore it open, and rolled it down over his cock with surprising ease. 

His eyes returned to yours, piercing, unyielding. “Like you don’t think you can take it.”

Your stomach tightened. The air between you grew thick, unbearably charged. Your fingers curled against the sheets, your body alight with anticipation, your heart hammering wildly against your chest.

“Well let’s see then.” You spread your legs nice and wide for him to fit between them.

He’d take that invitation- lowering himself onto the bed. His body weight caused the bed to dip around you as you felt purely at his mercy. 

Nanami’s body pressed flush against yours, the weight of him grounding you, holding you perfectly in place. His lips found yours as if he was trying to set you at ease while simultaneously unraveling you completely.

His hand slid between your thighs, fingers teasing your slick folds, preparing you for him, coaxing every last bit of anticipation from you. His lips ghosted over your jaw, his breath warm against your skin.

“Relax for me.” He kissed the shell of your ear.

Then—a shift, a slow roll of his hips—and you felt him.

A moan tore from your lips as the thick head of his length pressed against your entrance, spreading your wetness and inching inside—slowly, carefully.

Nanami groaned, deep and strained as your walls stretched to accommodate him.

“Shit.” He exhaled 

Your breath hitched, your nails dragging against the sculpted muscles of his back as he pushed deeper. The stretch was incredible, overwhelming—a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure.

Your head fell back against the pillows, your lips parted in a moan. “Yes Kento.”

His lips found your neck, kissing, sucking, murmuring against your skin. “You’re so tight. So warm. You feel so good.” His voice was low, hoarse.

Another slow, deliberate thrust, and he was fully sheathed inside of you.

A sharp, blissful jolt ran through your body, your thighs trembling around his hips as you gasped at the sensation. You could feel everything—every pulse, every twitch of his cock inside of you, and how perfectly he filled you.

Your breath came in shallow, desperate pants, and when you shifted slightly, the movement sent a wave of pleasure rolling through you so intense, your body reacted on instinct.

A cry escaped your lips as your walls fluttered, gripping him so tight, so wet—and then—you felt it. A rush of warmth between your thighs, a slick, involuntary gush of arousal.

No way. No WAY! Your body didn’t succumb to him that easily did it? He bottoms out for the first time and you’re already squirting on his bed sheets?!

Nanami froze, his breath hitching, his grip on you tightening.

His head dropped to your shoulder as he exhaled sharply, his voice a low, strained groan. “Fuck—that was sexy.”

He pulled back slowly, only to thrust forward again, deeper this time.

Your body arched into him, your moans louder, unrestrained, and he moaned low in your ear in response. His hands gripping the duvet by your head as he set a slow, devastating rhythm.

“You feel so good.” He murmured against your ear, his voice thick with lust.

His movements were calculated, controlled—like he was savoring every second of this, every desperate moan he pulled from your lips.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Harder, Kento.”

He stilled for half a beat, his grip tightening. Then, he obliged.

The next thrust was deeper, rougher, more intense—forcing your breath from your lungs, making pleasure bloom across your entire body.

Over and over, he filled you, stretched you, each roll of his hips sending another shock of pleasure up your spine. Your name left his lips like a prayer—his jaw clenched as he felt you tighten around him.

“You like that?” His lips now traced down your throat.

You whimpered, arching into him, fingers digging into his back.

He thrust again—deeper. Your body tensed. That overwhelming rush, a deep, euphoric sensation crashing into you all at once.

Your moans turned to cries as your body trembled beneath him, the pleasure spilling over, unstoppable.

Nanami groaned, his lips capturing yours in a desperate, consuming kiss, swallowing every breathless sound as he followed right after you—his body tensing, his rhythm faltering, lost completely to the moment.

When he finally stilled, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, heavy.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breaths intertwining, the heat of his body against yours, the lingering sensation of pure, unfiltered pleasure.

“You okay?” He spoke before his lips pressed against yours.

You nodded, a lazy, satisfied smile curling at your lips. “Do you really need to ask?”

Nanami chuckled softly, shifting so you two were in a spooning position. Face to face with your leg over his, and so deeply intimate. 

“You up for another round?” He asked with a lifted eyebrow that was almost, almost mischievous.

“I thought we were fucking until the new year, Kento.”

He looked down at the watch still attached to his wrist. “It’s 8:27pm. You think you can handle three and a half more hours?”

Your eyes widened, “Me?! Can you?!” You voice lowered… “You can, can’t you? What the hell are you made of?”

“I think you lasting that long would be more impressive than me.”

Your eyebrows knit slightly, “Hmm, that’s sounding a bit like a challenge. I’ve never had sex with a man for like four hours straight, but I might be willing to let my pussy suffer a little bit just to prove to you that I can.”

“No, you don’t need to do that.” He leaned in to kiss you, “Maybe for that you might want to use a couple of power seals.”

You laughed at his remark, “First of all, that’s not how that works. If I used a couple of power seals, that wouldn’t be fun for you!” You exhaled, your hand reaching out to caress his face. “Kento… is it annoying that I wanna finish my dessert still?”

“Not at all. Come on.”

Nanami Residence : 11:43pm : Nishishinjuku

You initially left the bed to eat your dessert that Nanami made, but as fate would have it, you both ended up going at it for another round. Then another after that. 

Maybe you two wanted this really badly. Maybe you were cherishing the moment of peace and quiet without interruption. Maybe it was a combination of both.

Either way, after three additional rounds after that, you found yourself in the shower. Not alone. Oh, of course not. 

You were here with Nanami washing off the sixth round of sex from your body before the new year's ball dropped. 

The hot water cascaded over your skin, steam curling around the two of you in Nanami’s gorgeous separated shower. The air is thick with warmth, the scent of eucalyptus filling your lungs with every breath. The showerhead rains down steadily, the sound of water mingling with the faint hum of your breathing.

Your muscles ache in the most satisfying way, a reminder of the way he touched you. His arms are around you, his broad chest flush against your back, the strength in his embrace making you feel both delicate and completely safe. His hands glide over your body, smoothing over every curve with a kind of reverence that makes your stomach flutter.

“You’re covered in marks.” He murmurs against your ear- his deep voice reverberating through your body. His fingers trace over the evidence of his earlier affection—soft love bites along your shoulder, gentle bruises down your waist where his grip had been unrelenting. “Did I go too hard on you?”

You shiver, not from the cold, but from the way his lips graze the spot just beneath your ear.

“Not at all. I like them.” You turned your head a bit, “How’s your back?”

What you referred to were the red lines going down his back. Yes, the ones that certainly couldn’t have felt good under this hot water. Then again, maybe they did.

“You took it easy on me.” His voice was somewhere between teasing and serious.

“I didn’t want to show all of my cards tonight.” You grinned.

His strong hands roamed your skin, tracing along your waist, up your ribs, before settling at your breasts. His thumbs circled your nipples with featherlight strokes, sending delicate sparks of sensation shooting through you. His mouth followed suit, lips brushing against the damp curve of your neck, a mixture of soft kisses and teasing bites that made you shiver despite the heat of the water.

You exhaled a quiet, breathy moan, leaning further into his touch as one hand slid lower, gliding over your stomach and down to the ache between your thighs. Your head lolled back onto him- the slick warmth of his skin against yours making you feel consumed. Worshiped, even.

“You’re supposed to be helping me get clean.” Your voice was thick with satisfaction but edged with playful accusation.

His low chuckle vibrated against your skin, lips pressing one more slow, possessive kiss at the curve of your jaw before he finally reached for the bottle of body wash. “I am.”

You turned your head slightly in his arms, catching his gaze—that dark, honeyed stare, still heavy with unspent desire but softened now, gentler. He squeezed the body wash into his palms, rubbing them together before massaging the lather over your shoulders, down the curve of your spine, and along your arms. His touch was reverent, careful as he worked over the marks he’d left earlier, as if making sure you felt nothing but comfort under his hands.

Your eyes fluttered shut, savoring the sensation as he washed away the remnants of the night. The press of his fingers over your skin felt like something more than cleansing—like an unspoken promise, a lingering claim.

As his hands roamed lower, smoothing over your thighs, you turned in his grasp, facing him fully now. Water trickled down his jaw, over the slope of his collarbone, down his strong chest—he was breathtaking, even under the soft glow of the steam-fogged light.

You reached up, fingertips trailing through his damp hair, tugging gently at the strands before pressing a kiss to his lips. It was slow, lingering, full of gratitude, adoration, a quiet hunger that never seemed to settle between you.

Nanami exhaled against your mouth, his hands gripping your waist. “You’re going to make it very hard for me to behave.” He spoke low and husky.

“You haven’t behaved all night. Why start now?”

Well, that was the only invitation he needed. He’d grab your waist and turn you back around so you were facing away from him like you were before. 

One palm cupped your breast, his thumb rolling over your sensitive nipple, teasing, slow, knowing. His other hand moved lower.

Fingers ghosting over your stomach, tracing the curve of your hip before settling between your thighs. The sensation was so sudden, so overwhelming, that your body instinctively arched into his touch.

You gasped, gripping his forearm as his fingers found your heat, spreading you open, easing inside.

“Let me take care of you one more time.”

Your lips parted in a soft moan as he pushed his fingers deeper, curling them just right.

He kissed your neck, your shoulder, your pulse—each press of his lips making your skin burn hotter than the water.

He moved his fingers faster, harder. His teeth grazing your jaw, his other hand squeezing and kneading your breast. “Just want to enjoy you a little longer.”

The pleasure was building fast.

Your walls clenched around his fingers, your thighs shaking, your breath stuttering. You gripped his wrist, trying to steady yourself as waves of bliss started crashing over you.

“Kento, fuck—” His name fell from your lips like a plea.

His fingers moved faster, deeper, relentless, until you felt it—that intoxicating pressure, that sharp snap of pleasure.

You gasped, your back arching against his chest, your entire body trembling as your orgasm hit you hard.

Nanami held you through it, whispering in your ear, kissing the side of your face, grounding you.

Your knees almost gave out, but his arms were strong, steady, unyielding.

His lips found yours, capturing your breathless moans in a deep, unhurried kiss. Your tongue brushed against his and you could feel the heat radiating from his skin—the unspoken words between you.

When he finally pulled back, his thumb traced over your lower lip, his eyes dark and filled with something dangerously addictive.

“Alright.” His voice was laced with amusement, as he removed his fingers from you and reached for the shampoo. “Let’s clean up.”

Nanami grabbed his loofah and lathered his bourbon and oak body wash into it. It smelled like him. It was so intoxicating and nice.

He ran the loofah over your skin, slow and thorough. Getting the day off of you… Getting the night off of you.

His touch was gentle but firm, making sure not a single inch of your body was left unattended. He started at your neck, trailing the warm lather down your shoulders, along the curve of your back. His lips followed in the loofah’s wake, pressing soft kisses in between it all.

Your breath hitched as he massaged the soap into your skin, his big, capable hands moving lower—over your hips, the dip of your waist, down your thighs, your calves.

There was nothing hurried about it. No urgency, no teasing. Just care.

“You spoil me.” You murmured, tilting your head as he slid the loofah along your collarbone.

Nanami hummed, his lips pressing against your shoulder. “Good.”

Once he was done, he turned you around and rinsed you off, cupping warm water over your shoulders, your chest, watching every drop slide down your glistening skin. The tenderness in his gaze made your heart ache.

When he was satisfied, he grabbed the biggest, fluffiest towel you’d ever seen, wrapping it around you and pulling you into his chest, rubbing slow circles over your back.

“Warm enough?”

You nodded, smiling. “I feel cozy.”

He dried himself off and slipped into a pair of deep blue cashmere pajamas. He left a few buttons open, for your pleasure certainly. He’d then run a towel through his damp, tousled hair before putting it in the nearby hamper.

“Put this on.” Nanami handed you one of his oversized black shirts, his scent woven into the cotton, along with a thick, plush robe. 

You slipped the shirt over your head, and the fabric drowned you, falling a little above your mid thigh.

Now that you got a chance to really look at it- his bathroom was quite immaculate. 

Clean, sleek, minimalistic but still undeniably luxurious. The double sink was flanked by dark wood cabinets, and above them hung a massive mirror framed with soft lighting.

Nanami opened a drawer, pulling out a collection of neatly arranged skincare products. He twisted the cap off one bottle and held it out to you.

“Cleanser?” His voice low, tender. “I suppose I should get some products that are better suited for you, but in case you’d like some in the meantime...”

“Thank you, yes.”

Your heart melted as he took a small dollop of cleanser in his hands, rubbing it between his fingers before gently spreading it across your cheeks. His fingers were slow, careful, tracing over your skin like you were so precious and delicate.

You sighed, leaning into his touch. “You’re going to ruin me for other men, Kento.”

He smirked. “I didn’t know you were still on the market.”

“I—” You were at a loss for words, “Definitely not.”

Once your face was cleansed, you returned the favor.

You grabbed the bottle and motioned for him to lean down. He did without hesitation, his gaze never leaving yours as you massaged the cleanser over his strong jaw, his sharp cheekbones.

Your fingers traced his features with reverence.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” You grinned, “People typically reserve the word beautiful for women, or scenery, but no. I wanna use that word correctly. You are beautiful, Kento.”

Nanami froze for a second. You found a soft spot that perhaps both of you didn’t know was there.

“Thank you.”

Once the skincare was done, the two of you stood side by side, watching each other in the mirror.

Your arms looping around his waist as you peeked past his broad frame. “It’s almost midnight.”

“You’re right.” He offered you his hand, and you’d take it before guiding him out.

The soft padding of your slippers against the pristine floor was the only sound as you walked back into Nanami’s bedroom.

You passed the bed—now stripped, the bedding already tumbling in the washing machine. The faint scent of fresh linen and something undeniably him still lingered in the air.

Nanami trailed behind you, watching as you moved with an ease that hadn’t been there before. You belonged here.

This relationship truly was a sprint, but if both of you agreed to the terms, then fuck what anyone else thought. No, fuck what you thought. Trying to get into your own head.

When the two of you entered the living room, the glow from the massive flatscreen illuminated the dim space. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along the far wall, still showcasing the breathtaking Shinjuku skyline.

Nanami took a seat on the couch, his legs spreading comfortably. Without a word, he grabbed you and pulled you into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, anchoring you to him.

You exhaled, practically melting against him.

The television flickered, displaying the New Year’s Eve countdown. Less than five minutes until midnight. The numbers ticked down in the corner of the screen as bright images of people celebrating filled the broadcast.

“So…” Nanami started, adjusting you so that your back pressed against his chest. “Any resolutions?”

You pursed your lips, thinking for a moment before leaning your head against his shoulder.

“I want to be more open.” You admitted. “I feel like I spent so much time just... existing. Avoiding things. Telling myself I didn’t want them when I really did. I’m sick of being scared. So this year I’m just throwing caution to the wind and going for it. Whatever that it may be.”

Nanami’s grip around you tightened slightly.

You sighed. “I also want to be happy. I want to figure out what that even means for me. I want to take more risks, try new things. I want to be open to love, open to failure. I want to make choices because they excite me—not because they feel safe. I want to say yes, even if it scares me...”

Nanami nodded against your hair, absorbing every word. “That’s a good resolution.”

You smiled. “What about you?”

He was silent for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected the question to be turned on him so quickly.

“Three things.”

You turned slightly in his lap, looking up at him. “Three?”

He nodded, shifting you so that his arms rested comfortably around your waist.

“First, I want to stop letting my job define me.”

Your fingers traced lightly along his forearm, listening.

“I’ve let my life revolve around my work for too long. I thought of nothing but money. Getting money. Making money. Spending money. There has to be some middle ground, and I’m determined to find it.”

He took a breath before continuing. “Second. Just like you, I want to allow myself to be happy.”

You blinked at him. “You say that like it’s something you’ve never done before.”

He was quiet for a moment. “It hasn’t exactly been a priority.”

You placed your palm against his cheek, your heart aching for him. “It should be.”

The television screen flickered, the countdown ticking down to the final minute.

“And the third?” You whispered.

Nanami was silent for a beat, his thumb tracing slow circles against your palm.

“I want to treat this relationship with care. I want to put real effort into it and see where it takes us. Nothing half assed.”

Something in your chest stirred. “Let’s both do that.”

You were both standing on the precipice of something new, something terrifyingly beautiful. For the first time in a long time—you weren’t afraid.

The final seconds of the countdown began.

10…

Nanami cupped your face, his eyes searching yours.

9…

8…

You leaned into his touch, your fingers curling into pajama top.

7…

6…

The city lights outside flickered like stars.

5…

4…

Your breath mingled with his.

3…

2…

1…

Midnight.

Nanami pressed his lips against yours, slow and deep, like a promise.

“Happy New Year.” 

You smiled. “Happy New Year, Kento.”

Somehow, you could just feel it. This new year was going to be something special. It was going to bring you the happiness you both deserve, and honestly, you were ready for it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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[softcursechoso]

Memoirs from a Gilded Cage: CH. 8

Attack on Titan x Reader

Black!Reader Levi x Reader Erwin x Reader

Masterlist

MDNI 18+ ONLY //NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS

CH. 8 Warnings: None- just very angsty. I was strangely sad writing this chapter ???

Words: 7.4k+

THE CRUEL REALITY

The Eternal Thread : 11:00am : Mitras

By no means was today going to be a day of leisure. This was a day for showing face. Well, another day that is. You’d been making yourself seen a lot these past few days in order to curve any suspicion. 

You’d take your time getting ready today. If you were going to spend more time on the surface, then you needed to do so in your own way. Didn’t mean you had to spend a ton of time with everyone else. It just meant that you needed to be seen. Show everyone that you weren’t being sneaky.

The past few days without bitching to Levi and Furlan were tough. That shabby old apartment was more of a home to you these days than any place on the surface. Plus, you missed the guys of course.

You couldn’t stop thinking about your last conversation with Levi. He truly had no idea how much you thought about him on the days that you were gone. You couldn’t do that right now though. Today, you were a woman of the people. 

You were keeping it everything but simple with a long sleeve yellow dress. Embroidered low square neckline with a back cutout. Form fitting and innovative. It fit your body perfectly like all of your other designs. Truly, you were so far beyond Mitras with your fashion. Seemed like centuries ahead of your time. 

The dress was more than just a statement; it was a carefully chosen piece of armor. Bold and unapologetic, meant to command attention and deflect scrutiny. Its elegance matched the confidence you wore outwardly, even if restlessness stirred beneath the surface.

You were going to take your time today.. Hair and makeup. You were going to straighten your hair for the first time in months. 

Ever since you found out you were a child of the sunrise you stayed away from the hot comb, but perhaps today you were just feeling it. Not to hide yourself like Cassius suggested, but because you just wanted to.

You were beginning to hate days like this- when you had to remain on the surface. It was hard to figure out how to spend your time. Maybe that was the reason you were taking your time in the mirror.

Your hair, sleek and straight, fell in silky waves down your back, and your red-painted lips curved into a faint smirk as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Yeah, you were ready.

Walking out of your shop, you greeted your MP escort. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon my lady. Staying in today?” He gave a courteous bow.

“In this dress? No. I’m gonna take a little walk, okay? Catch some sun.”

He knew what that meant. You’d begin on your walk and he’d tag loosely behind you. A quick whistle signaled to the other that you were on the move. Leaving for the day. You had to wonder how they got through days like this. All that training in the cadet corps just to be the parasite on the ass of a noblewoman. Shame.

East Point River : 2:35pm : Mitras

The river was quiet this afternoon, its waters shimmering in the soft light of the sun as it filtered through the clouds. Mitras was awake, and the faint sounds of distant voices carried through the breeze. You had wandered to the riverbank for some air, your mind restless, but the peaceful view had done little to ease the tension coiling in your chest.

There was so much on your mind. You were beginning to frustrate yourself. Your original plan in going underground was to find out about the lost tribe. Your ancestors. Your family. All you did, however, were things that would only serve you. 

You wanted to learn to use the ODM gear, yes, but being true to yourself- you knew that wasn’t the reason you stopped searching for the Kuremi. Or rather, the reason you never really began. 

“Miss Greville.” A familiar voice called out from behind you, deep and steady.

You turned, already knowing who it was, and your heart gave a small lurch as Erwin Smith’s tall frame came into view. He was as composed as ever. His uniform crisp, and his sharp blue eyes meeting yours with quiet confidence. There was something softer in his expression today though. Something that made your smirk deepen.

“Captain Smith.” Your tone lifted upon response. “A pleasant surprise.”

“Please, just Erwin is fine.” He corrected with a gentle smile. “We’ve known each other long enough, haven’t we?”

It was true. Though your meetings were sparse, each one had great meaning. You knew him for a while, and you knew him rather well.

“Erwin.” You spoke, drawing out his name as though testing it. “What brings you to the river? Surely you’re not here to enjoy the view.”

“Perhaps I am.” His gaze lingered on you for a beat. You caught the slight flicker of his eyes over your dress, and though he quickly looked back up, you didn’t miss it.

“The view, is it?” You teased, stepping closer. “How much time do you have to spare today? Twenty minutes? Thirty?”

“I’ve got a few hours. A luxury I don’t often get, so I suppose I should spend it wisely.” His voice lifted. For a moment it actually sounded as if he meant he was offering said time to you.

You tilted your head, feigning surprise. “Oh? The busiest man within the walls giving up his precious time to entertain me? How could I refuse?”

The MP’s shifted behind you- their presence a constant shadow. You glanced back at them, your smile bright but commanding. “Gentlemen, do you mind if I take a stroll with the good captain? I promise I’m in capable hands.”

The MPs exchanged a glance, reluctant but ultimately yielding as Erwin added, “I’ll see to her safety. You have my word.”

With a slight bow, they stepped back, “Before the sun sets, please meet right back here at the riverbank.”

You nodded before turning to Erwin with a triumphant grin. “Shall we?”

The two of you strolled along the riverbank. The gentle flow of water and the occasional chirping of birds filled the silences as you walked. For a while, you simply enjoyed the moment, the easy rhythm of his stride matching yours.

“May I ask the real reason you haven’t left Mitras?” Erwin asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet. “It’s obvious you don’t want to be here. You said it’s your disease, however, that doesn’t explain the Military Police watching your every move.”

The two of you turn the corner into a residential area. It’s quiet, and the tall buildings shroud you from the sun.

You let out a laugh, the question both unexpected and blunt. “I appreciate your straightforwardness, Erwin. No beating around the bush with you.”

“It’s not in my nature.” He replied with a lifted eyebrow. “So?”

“So…” You sigh. “I told you. My father is very protective of me, and the royal government didn’t want my… condition spreading. So, here I am, living out my days in Mitras. The MP’s are just- they want to protect me too.” Your voice sounded quite unsure by the end.

His brow furrowed slightly, and he shook his head. “That’s bullshit.” He’d stop walking and face you.

He couldn’t help but feel a surge of frustration at the thought of you being confined here, your potential wasted. The logic didn’t add up in his mind, and he couldn’t ignore the nagging sense that there was more to your story than you let on. It wasn’t just unfair—it was infuriating, and his sharp tone reflected his inability to reconcile what he saw with what you claimed.

You gasped theatrically. “Captain Erwin Smith, such language! I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“It’s not right.” He ignored your teasing and kept his tone serious. “If it truly is a disease, why wouldn’t they study it? Learn about it? What harm could it possibly cause?”

You hesitated, the weight of the lie pressing heavily on you. He was too perceptive, too sharp. “It’s complicated… But I appreciate your concern.”

His eyes searched yours, as though trying to decipher the truth, but he didn’t press further. “You deserve better than to be caged here.” He said quietly. “You know that.”

Before you could respond, voices from a nearby alleyway caught your attention. You froze, straining to hear as you tuned in mid conversation. Key words gripping your ears, and forcing you to listen.

“Guess there’s an exotic lookin’ bitch he’s got.” One voice said, low and rough. “Kinda looks like Greville’s kid.”

Your heart stopped. The words sent a jolt of adrenaline through you, your mind racing. Exotic that looked Greville’s kid. They could only be talking about you and as far as you knew, and the only people that looked like you went extinct decades ago.

You turned to Erwin, holding a finger to your lips as you gesture for silence. Carefully, you peeked around the corner, your breath catching as you spotted two men loading crates onto a carriage.

“South entry point?” The other man speaks. 

“Yeah, let’s move.” 

The phrase struck you immediately. The south entry point wasn’t just another location—it was a covert route often whispered about in underground circles, a pathway leading to hidden networks and dangerous dealings. If they were heading there, it wasn’t for anything innocent, and your instincts told you this was tied to something much larger.

You watched as the carriage took off, your pulse hammering in your ears. Turning to Erwin, you whispered urgently, “They’re going to the south entry point. It leads underground. I have to follow them.”

Erwin’s brow furrowed. “If it’s illegal dealings, shouldn’t the Military Police be informed?”

“They can’t get involved.” You shook your head. “This is… personal. I’ll explain later, but I need to do this.”

His gaze held yours for a long moment, and then he nodded. “I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have to.” You reply quickly.

“I’m coming with you.” He spoke more sternly this time. 

In that moment you knew what needed to be done. You had to chase after the carriage, and there was no time to think about if this was a good idea or not. You had to go now or get left behind.

The streets of Mitras seemed to blur as you sprinted alongside Erwin, your hands gripping your dress so that you’d not trip over it. Running on cobblestone in heels was by no means an easy feat, and you’d gloat about having done it so efficiently in any other situation.

The carriage ahead pulled away with terrifying speed. The clatter of hooves and creaking wheels echoed through the narrow alleys, growing fainter with each desperate stride.

“Shit!” You hissed, frustration burning in your chest.

Without hesitation, Erwin reached out, his hand gripping yours with firm determination. The contact sent a jolt through you—your heart racing, though adrenaline left little room to process the sensation. 

His pace quickened, his strength pulling you faster than you thought possible. Despite your efforts, the carriage disappeared into the maze of streets. You weren’t going to catch up.

Breathless, you both came to a halt at a quiet corner. Erwin released your hand, his sharp mind already working. “I can get my ODM gear,” He began, his voice steady. “It’ll be the quickest-”

“No.” You snapped, cutting him off. “You can’t use ODM gear in Mitras. It’ll draw too much attention, and it’ll take too long for you to retrieve.”

He arched an eyebrow, unaccustomed to being interrupted, but he didn’t argue.

Your mind raced. Then it clicked. “There’s a service tunnel that cuts through the district. We can take it to get ahead of them. I know Mitras like the back of my hand. Every shortcut, every nook, every cranny. This will be the fastest way to the South Entry Point.”

Erwin hesitated only for a second before nodding. “Lead the way.”

You navigated the hidden paths with ease, weaving through alleyways, slipping past distracted MP’s, and ducking under archways. Erwin followed closely, his movements precise, but you caught the occasional glance he cast your way—an impressed glint in his sharp blue eyes.

He was usually the one who came up with the plan. You having made one before him was quite out of the ordinary. It was… nice.

South Entry Point : 4:26pm : Mitras

When you reached the South Entry Point, you crouched behind a crumbling stone wall, heart pounding. The hidden stairway loomed, shadowed by the overgrowth of neglect and secrecy. So unlike anywhere else in Mitras, but also, hidden in plain sight.

Erwin studied the entrance. “How did you know this is here?”

You swallowed hard. “I’ve heard about it.” The lie felt brittle on your tongue.

Together, you watched. The scene unfolding below made your blood run cold. Women were dragged from the underground, shackled and tossed into a waiting wagon like livestock. Others were pulled from the wagon and thrown down the stairs, exchanged as if they were nothing more than cargo.

Your breath hitched.

“It’s a trade.” Erwin whispered- his jaw clenched.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Human trafficking. The realization hit you like a fist to the gut. 

None of the women resembled you, but that didn’t ease the suffocating dread. They could be connected to the truth buried in your past.

One of the men laughed, his voice drifting up. “This one will pair with that exotic broad I was telling you about earlier. Guess the ol’ man likes a variety of women. Make sure she’s not hurt too bad or her price will devalue.” He tossed a petite blonde girl into the carriage.

Your eyes widened. “No.” 

It was the woman you were just dancing with in that underground pub a few days prior. The woman who looked so happy. The woman whose name you never caught, but whose energy you’d never forget. 

Your chest tightened. The words of the men were vague, but something about them tugged at a hidden thread inside you. You couldn’t breathe. You found yourself crouching as you attempted to catch your breath.

Erwin noticed instantly, his hands on your shoulders, grounding you. “Breathe.” He whispered, kneeling beside you. “Focus on me. In. Out.”

You tried, gasping as you attempted to catch your breath.

“You’re okay.” His presence is solid and unwavering.

You breathed deep before forcing yourself to look from behind the wall again. The wagon rolled away, and with it, a piece of your soul. You clenched your fists, guilt gnawing at your insides. You knew why you didn’t intervene—surface life, even enslaved, was better than the horrors underground. It still didn't make it easier.

Erwin pulled you into his arms, his hold firm. You broke then, sobbing quietly into his chest. His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, saying nothing, just anchoring you.

Was this how your ancestors were treated? Used until they were deemed useless, and then thrown underground and forgotten? Left only to be killed by disease and famine? You had no idea if your family was involved in this horrific trade, but you knew that somewhere down below is where the answer lay.

Levi and Furlan were very good friends of yours by now, but it was time to stop making their home the end of the line every time you went underground. You needed to regain focus again, and this was a big wakeup call.

Erwin pulled back slightly, his fingers gently brushing tears from your face. His gaze held questions he didn’t voice, but you knew he saw it—this wasn’t just about the women. It was deeper. Older.

Footsteps approached, and panic surged. You couldn’t be seen like this.

You wiped the dampness from your eyes, pulled yourself together, and grabbed Erwin’s arm. “Move.”

The two of you darted away, heading toward the nearest building. You barely had time to register where you were going before you pushed through the doors—and into an opulent ballroom filled with Mitras’s elite.

A gala. One you had completely forgotten was happening tonight… and you had just crashed it.

You straightened immediately, smoothing out your dress, and turned to Erwin, whose uniform was crisp enough to pass for an invited guest. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Convenient.” He murmured, his voice low with sarcasm.

You let out a quiet breath. “Could have been worse I suppose.”

Chandeliers of cascading crystal bathed the room in golden light, illuminating velvet drapery, opulent floral arrangements, and the sweeping skirts of Mitras' elite. Every inch of the space radiated luxury—but beneath it lurked something else. Something venomous. You were being watched.

Since the moment your foot passed the threshold, the air shifted. A subtle, collective inhale rippled through the guests as they noticed how close you and Erwin were. Their disapproval masked behind the polite chatter and the clinking of champagne glasses.

Whispers ignited like a wildfire the further you two stepped into the room.

"She came with Captain Smith."

"Are they together?"

"Isn’t he afraid?"

"She’s touching him."

You heard every word. Their murmurs, their questions, their barely contained horror. You had lived your whole life pretending you couldn’t hear, pretending you didn’t see their judgment, but tonight, it was impossible to ignore. The way their eyes darted toward you, lingering on your hand resting atop Erwin’s arm—you felt it like a blade against your spine.

You began to pull away instinctively, but before you could, Erwin's grip tightened over yours. Skin to skin. The warmth of his palm against the back of your hand sent a shock through your body, a touch so foreign yet grounding that you barely concealed your gasp.

"Let them see this." Erwin spoke low enough that only you could hear. "They need to know you aren’t a threat. That you don’t have a disease."

The whispers ceased, as if on command. The room adjusted in an instant, and suddenly, the very people who had just recoiled at your presence plastered on dazzling smiles.

"Ah! We didn't think you'd make it!" One woman exclaimed, stepping forward as though she had always welcomed you. "You look exquisite tonight!"

"What an unexpected surprise!" Another voice chimed in, but intentionally kept distance.

Your smile was automatic, perfected through years of practice. "I apologize for the late arrival. I was simply fortunate enough to be escorted by the Survey Corps’ finest tonight." You tilted your head toward Erwin slightly, keeping up the illusion.

When you met his gaze, though, the practiced facade nearly cracked. He was still watching you—not the mask you wore, but what lay beneath it. He wasn’t fooled by the pleasantries, wasn’t swept up in the grandeur of the moment. He saw you, and what he saw wasn’t the poised noblewoman standing before him.

He saw a woman trapped in a gilded cage, screaming to be let out.

You turned back to the socialites, engaging in meaningless conversations about the décor, the music, their dresses. None of them held a candle to yours, of course. Even if you wore a simple black dress, you’d outshine them all. .

You and Erwin eventually found a quiet corner near the far end of the ballroom, partially obscured by heavy gold curtains. He had been silent for too long, and when you finally turned to him, he was staring at you with an intensity that nearly stole the breath from your lungs.

"Are you okay?" You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Erwin’s gaze didn’t waver. "Is it like this every day?"

You gave a small, hollow laugh. "No, there aren’t galas every day."

"That’s not what I meant."

You knew exactly what he meant. You glanced around the ballroom, at the people who still snuck glances at you even as they pretended not to. Their smiles were thinly veiled grimaces; their conversations were forced and hollow. This was your existence. Always being watched, judged, feared.

"It’s not uncommon.” You admitted finally.

He inhaled slowly, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Even as a Captain of the scouts, I’ve never felt anything like this. It’s suffocating."

You looked down, your fingers brushing against the cool rim of a champagne glass on the table. "I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I just needed a moment to catch my breath."

"No," Erwin interrupted, his voice firm. "That’s not what I meant at all."

You met his eyes again.

"This is a lot to bear every single day on your own.” He continued, voice low but filled with conviction. "I’ve seen hundreds of people die. Comrades and friends. I’ve seen unspeakable things… but I have never felt anything like the situation you’re in now."

You swallowed thickly. You couldn’t cry. Not here. Not with all these people watching. "I’m more worried about the women being trafficked.” You spoke-, deflecting, retreating into the mission.

"I have to free you from this cage." Erwin spoke as if he hadn’t even heard your previous words.

Your breath hitched. Your eyes locked onto his, and you knew he meant it. He wasn’t just saying it. He had already made it up his mind.

You shook your head. "We have to find the head of the operation. That’s more important. I can worry about me after I worry about them. I have to get answers."

Erwin exhaled, his frustration evident, but he didn’t argue. He just looked at you with something deeper than sympathy, something bordering on desperation—not for himself, but for you. For the girl who had never been free, for the woman who didn’t even have the words to explain why her own suffering was an afterthought compared to the suffering of others.

The weight of the past, the future, and the mission ahead pressed heavily on you both—but for now, you played your role.

The air in the ballroom was thick with whispered speculation. You could feel the weight of a hundred eyes on you, some curious, others disdainful, all judging. But none of it mattered—not now. Not when the fate of those women was still unknown. You turned your head, staring at the ornate patterns on the wall, your vision blurring as your eyes began to sting.

Erwin stood beside you, his presence unwavering. He saw it—the way your shoulders stiffened, the way your jaw clenched, the way you blinked too quickly to keep the tears from falling. He didn’t understand, not fully, but he knew this wasn’t just about the trafficking. 

You exhaled shakily. "I have to find out where the women are being taken.” You spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

Before tear could fall, Erwin’s thumb brushed against your cheek, catching it before it had a chance to betray you. His touch was swift, subtle, so natural that to an outsider, it looked like nothing more than a small, affectionate gesture.

You felt it, the warmth of his skin. The deliberate tenderness. Your breath caught, and you knew others had seen it too. The whispers in the ballroom grew louder, circulating like vultures over fresh prey.

"Did you see that?"

"He touched her face."

"Are they together? No, impossible."

"Is he not scared for his life?"

Then, cutting through the chatter like a blade, came a voice you knew all too well. "Well, well. Look at this."

Your stomach dropped. Cassius.

He strode toward you with his usual smugness, a woman on his arm. Just before he reached you, he smoothly repositioned her, shifting her to his left—closer to Erwin, further from you. It was a minor gesture, subtle enough that most wouldn’t notice, but you did, and so did Erwin.

Cassius’ smirk widened as he eyed you. "I see you’re trying to fit in again." His gaze flicked to your hair, straightened to perfection. "Doesn’t suit you." He let out an exaggerated sigh, then gestured to your dress. "And this? Quite plain compared to your usual extravagance. I almost didn’t recognize you."

A few nearby patrons snickered from his intentionally loud comments, their amusement masked behind delicate fans and half-filled champagne flutes. They were taking joy in him humiliating you. After all, you can’t fear a joke.

You lifted your chin, refusing to react.. but Erwin? He was watching Cassius with an expression far too cold to ignore.

Cassius leaned in slightly, grinning. "Anyway, my lady here just wanted to shake the hand of the woman who made her dress."

The woman at his side smiled politely and she reached out her hand, but was quickly stopped.

Cassius chuckled. "Careful, sweetheart. Put your glove on first. Don’t wanna risk it."

That was it. Erwin shifted forward, his presence suddenly towering, his broad shoulders squared. His voice when he spoke was calm, but beneath it was something lethal.

"That’s enough."

Cassius turned his head, looking Erwin up and down as though truly seeing him for the first time.

"You call yourself a man as you cut down your sister so viciously? I see no man standing before me, only a weak, spineless child grasping for power in places he doesn’t belong."

The laughter in the room died instantly. The elite were watching…

Erwin continued, unwavering. "It’s pathetic, really, how you parade yourself around, picking on those you deem weaker than you. But here’s the truth, Cassius Greville. You would never make it outside of Mitras. You wouldn’t last a day. You wouldn’t even make it as a gatherer. You’d be dead before sunrise."

Cassius' face darkened. "Do you know who I am?"

"Are you serious?” You frowned, "Get away from us before we make a scene."

Cassius scoffed. "We?" He turned back to Erwin, a malicious glint in his eyes. "She thinks you’re hers now. How adorable." His smirk returned, crueler this time. "Let me tell you something, Captain Smith. She’s not worth your time. You may think she’s different, that she’s someone you can save, but she’s not. She’s a parasite, latching onto the first person who gives her an ounce of attention. And you? You’re just another fool falling for it. She plays the tragic noblewoman so well, doesn’t she? As if she’s not already set to inherit the entire Greville estate."

Your fists clenched. "So that’s what this is about? The goddamn estate, Cassius?! I don’t want it! I want nothing to do with the Greville estate!"

"You’re lying!" Cassius snapped. “You haven’t visited father in months, yet all he can talk about is you. How you will get everything. How he’s leaving nothing to me or Tinsley. That the Greville estate is your right alone. What did you do? Threaten him? Manipulate? Blackmail?”

This was news to you. Sure you figured your father might leave you most of the estate, but the entire thing? It was strange- especially with you abruptly having not visited him in nearly half a year.

"Father never should have had a favorite.” Your voice rose. “Never should have stated it or acted on it. That was wrong of him! But maybe he doesn’t trust you with the estate because of your greed. You never saw him as a father—just means to an end."

He laughed bitterly. "I visit that man every single day… and yet you get the entire estate. All of it down to the last coin."

"I don’t want to be in Mitras my entire life, Cassius!" You were shouting now. "I would give up every last coin that I am set to inherit just to see Ehrmich! To see Stohess! To see Trost! I would give my right arm to see Shiganshina! I’m in a cage, and I would trade it all just to borrow the keys!"

The entire ballroom went silent. Not a whisper. Not a breath.

Cassius shook his head. "You’re selfish. Given the greatest hand in life, and you want more."

"What’s going on here?" Tinsley’s voice cut through the silence. She stormed toward the group, eyes darting between all of you. "You’re making a spectacle."

You turned to her, face burning. "I’m making a spectacle?!"

"Yes, you are." Cassius sneered. "No one wants to look at you and your disease anymore. Stop trying to fit in. The elite are here. You’re twisting everyone’s stomach and staining our family name."

The world stills. You and your brother exchanged harsh words before, but nothing like this.

It was quiet, and then—a loud, resounding smack. Tinsley slapped Cassius with all her strength.

A collective gasp echoed in the ballroom. Even you were shocked. Cassius’ head snapped to the side, stunned, cheek reddening from the impact.

Tinsley’s hand trembled as she pointed a shaking finger at him. "You have something really evil inside of you to ever say that."

The air in the ballroom was thick with tension, suffocating and heavy, yet no one moved to cut through it. Cassius stood there, breathing heavily, his face red with rage, his hands shaking with something beyond anger. Beyond hatred. Something primal. Something broken.

Then, his lips twisted into something cruel. "You're pitiful. You know that? You're disgusting."

Tinsley gasped audibly, stepping toward him, her hands curled into trembling fists. "Cassius, stop! Just stop! How dare you? This is your sister!"

Cassius ignored her completely, his eyes locked onto yours like a blade pressed against your skin. "No one is afraid of you.” He continued, his voice shaking. "They’re disgusted by you. You hear me? You think you're some caged bird waiting for freedom? No, you're a rotting carcass. You’re going to die here in Mitras. You’ll never see the outside, never breathe the air beyond these walls. You will decay here, alone and unloved, because no one wants you around."

Tinsley sobbed, shaking her head. "Stop it! Stop saying that!"

The guests were frozen in place, watching with wide eyes. Even the whispers had died out, leaving nothing but Cassius' venomous voice lashing through the ballroom. Seemed the Greville’s didn’t have it together as much as they presented.

"This whole room is playing along because they have to, not because they respect you. You're nothing. You're a joke. The only reason they don't throw you out is because they have to tolerate you for father’s sake. But behind closed doors? When you're not looking? They're laughing. Every last one of them."

From the corner of your eye, you saw Erwin’s jaw clench hard, his knuckles whitening at his sides. His usually unshakable composure was unraveling. You could see the fire in his eyes, the silent fury in the way his shoulders tenseed, the way his breath slowed like a man preparing for battle.

Strangely, the fire inside you had already burned out.

You looked up at him, placing a delicate hand on his arm. "Don’t.” You whispered. "Let him say it. I'd rather he say it directly than pretend."

Cassius’ expression twisted further, now livid that his words weren’t destroying you as intended. He was breaking apart, coming undone in front of the entire gala, and he couldn’t stop himself.

Tears lined his eyes now, but he was blind to them. "I was Father’s right hand! I sacrificed everything to be in his good graces! I did everything he asked, everything he wanted, every fucking thing I could think of to make him love me! Meanwhile, all you did was EXIST! He never raised his voice at you! He never lifted his hand to you! He never punished you, never even looked at you with disappointment! Meanwhile, I had to claw my way into his approval, and it was never enough! It was NEVER enough! You didn’t even try to get him to love you, but he did! More than me and Tinsley tenfold! Why?!"

Silence. No one dared to speak. No one dared to move.

His chest heaved as he wiped his face angrily, ashamed of his own tears but too consumed by fury to stop. "You get escorts. You get special treatment. You get everything you ever wanted, all because you were born with some horrid disease?! It’s unfair!"

You exhaled slowly, your expression... content.

A calm washed over you as you approached him, your steps deliberate, graceful. There was no more anger. No more sadness. Only the cold, unwavering truth.

You almost smiled. "You are so pathetic."

Cassius flinched almost as if you had struck him.

"You’re stupid to think that you could ever measure up to someone like me. You’re not strong enough to walk even a day in my shoes." The words were gentle, spoken like a lullaby. It was like you pitied him. Hell, maybe you did.

You stepped even closer, voice dropping just for him. "I would trade the scrutiny for Father’s affection in a heartbeat. You want it, Cassius? Let’s trade." You tilted your head, eyes dark and merciless. "You take one man’s obsession, and with it, the harsh glares. The women clutching their children. The pulling away. The broken eye contact. The whispers. The rumors. The twisted faces. The gasps. The disgust. The fake smiles. The surface conversations. The lack of touch. The denial of bonds…”

You took one final step forward, close enough now that he couldn’t escape the weight of your presence. “The complete isolation… You take that."

Cassius' lips parted, but no sound came out. His tears fell now, rolling down his cheeks against his will. He was frozen, trapped in the words you had shackled him with.

For the first time in your life, the room wasn’t whispering. It wasn’t turning away. It wasn’t pretending. For the first time in your life, they saw you. They heard you.

You turned, bowing your head ever so slightly in politeness. "If you’ll excuse me."

The only sound left in the ballroom was the sharp click of your heels against the marble floor. Erwin followed silently, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst. No one stopped you. No one breathed.

You barely made it through the exit before you heard frantic footsteps racing behind you.

Tinsley crashed into you, arms wrapping around you so tightly you could barely inhale.

"I didn’t know!" She sobbed into your shoulder. "I didn’t know!"

Her body shook, her grip on you desperate and trembling. She was crying harder than you had ever seen, her fingers clenching the back of your dress as if afraid you would disappear.

Her cries were raw, unfiltered, the kind of grief that only surfaced when a truth had shattered everything she once believed. She had seen you every day. Stood beside you, and yet, she had never seen this side of you.

"I didn’t know." She whimpered again, broken, lost. "I should have known."

“Oh Tinsley…” You shook your head. “You knew.”

“What?” Her tear stained eyes looked up at you.

"You heard them talk, and you let them. You saw them sneer, and you joined in." You took a step back. "You want to make it right? Leave me be. There are more pressing issues than public family squabbles."

"Please don’t leave me." She sobbed, falling to her knees.

You looked down at her, and you felt bad, sure, but not bad enough to stay. After all, your MP escorts needed you back before sundown, and it was cutting close. 

Perhaps it was because she was your supposed twin, and you had some genuine deep rooted bond… or maybe it was because you were far more kind than you should be, but you’d at least leave her with a crumb of something.

“Tinsley I know you only did it to fit in. You couldn’t survive public scrutiny for going against the grain. It’d weigh too heavy on you. I understand that.” You kept your eyes on her. “If you wanna make things better then accept your part and move on, but don’t act like it never happened. That hurts worse.”

With those words, you’d leave beside Captain Smith. You had no idea what that public confrontation would do to your reputation, but it certainly couldn’t lower more than what it was at now. It was time to stop caring about such things. As you said before. There were more pressing issues.

Northeast Riverbank : 6:17pm Mitras

The district was quieter now, the sun sinking lower behind the rooftops, casting long shadows over Mitras. The exhaustion from the chase, the pain of the gala, the weight of old wounds reopened—it all pressed heavily on your chest.

You and Erwin walked side by side, neither of you saying anything at first. There was too much to process, too much unsaid, lingering between you like the last remnants of a dying fire.

Finally, you broke the silence. "I'm sorry."

Erwin stopped walking. You turned to face him, meeting his sharp blue eyes. "You finally had a few hours to spare and I wasted them dragging you into affairs that had nothing to do with you."

His expression didn’t shift, but you saw something flicker in his gaze. You looked away, shaking your head. "I wish this visit had gone differently. I really do."

Erwin exhaled through his nose, then, to your surprise… "Do you ever think of yourself?"

You blinked. "What?"

His expression hardened as he took a step closer. "You don't ever think of yourself. Even now, you’re apologizing to me, but you’re the one hurting."

You opened your mouth, but he shook his head. "I don’t want your apologies. You don’t owe them to me. You don’t owe them to anyone."

The words settled deep in your chest, rattling something loose. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you said nothing. You just started walking again, and he fell into step beside you.

After a moment, you sighed, your voice softer now. "Still, I just wish there was time to talk about mundane things. The weather. Crops. Anything that isn’t work."

He glanced at you, a bit of guilt setting in. "Then I should apologize. I never should have spoken to you so grimly."

You shook your head. "That’s not the problem. I don’t mind the business talk. I just wish we had more time for leisurely chats."

Erwin was silent for a moment before spoke again. The cogs in his mind turning, "Then we’ll write."

You looked up at him in surprise.

"I know the address of your shop. From now on when I’m not in Mitras, I’ll write you."

Something in your chest tightened, but in a different way this time. You nodded slowly. "I’d like that."

He nodded too, as if it was already decided. "And when I can, I’ll search for information regarding the women. I promise you, every single person involved in this operation will face justice."

You swallowed, taking a deep breath. "I know."

He studied you again, eyes tracing over your face, searching for something deeper. "But I need you to promise me something too."

You tensed. "What?"

"Do not go to the Underground." Your lips parted slightly, but he continued before you could argue. "I know you think answers lie below, but it’s too dangerous. Even with your MP escorts, the survivability is too low. You could be taken, killed, or worse. Let me investigate this. Please."

His voice was steady, firm, but not demanding. It was a plea, and for a moment, you considered giving him what he wanted.

"Okay.” You spoke softly with a nod.

You said okay, but it was a lie. You knew that before the sun had fully set on this day, you’d be halfway down the ladder leading into the Underground. You kept that knowledge to yourself, though.

The two of you reached the edge of the riverbank, the water reflecting the dimming sky in ripples of gold and deep blue. The wind was cooler here, brushing over your skin like a ghost of a touch. You stopped to watch the current, and Erwin stopped beside you, standing close enough that you could feel his warmth against the evening chill.

"I plan to make good on what I said earlier." The captain continued, "I will get you out of this cage."

You stared at the water, not answering. He didn’t understand. He had no idea who your father was. He didn’t know that Matthias Greville had a lot of power, even amongst the powerful. If he wanted you to stay put, that was law, and those beneath him would see to it that his word was carried out.

Still, you nodded before looking at the man beside you. "Thank you. For everything. Your kindness. Your understanding."

His gaze softened, and before he could speak, you added, "When you write to me…” You inhaled deeply, memorizing the scent of the river, the way the fading light made his eyes look like some impossible shade of blue. "Tell me about Trost. Tell me about Shiganshina. Tell me what it’s like beyond the walls. Write it all down for me, so I can have a glimpse of the world beyond Mitras. Something that doesn’t come from an anonymous book author."

Erwin held your gaze, something heavy passing behind his eyes. "I will."

The promise settled between you like something sacred. Something unspoken yet understood. The wind carried your hair slightly, strands brushing against your cheek. Before you could react, Erwin reached out, his fingers tucking the strands behind your ear, his knuckles grazing the side of your face.

It was the smallest thing, but it was something.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stood there, watching the river, standing close enough that your head now rested against his arm. Just barely, but it did. The moment stretched, soft and infinite, until the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the silence.

Your MP escorts had arrived. Right on time. 

Erwin exhaled slowly, then looked down at you with quiet certainty. "Everything's going to be alright."

You nodded, but it felt empty. You weren’t sure if you believed him, but the reassurance was something to hold onto, something to steady yourself with as the night drew to a close.

"Despite what you might think," He continued, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "...it was nice to see you again."

You huffed out a soft breath, one that was almost a laugh. "It was nice to see you too. Very nice, actually."

His smirk lingered for a second longer before he turned to leave. He didn’t make much headway as you reached out, your fingers catching onto the fabric of his jacket.

He stopped immediately, glancing back over his shoulder. The moment his eyes met yours, his expression shifted. You hadn’t even realized your vision had blurred, hadn’t noticed the tears threatening to spill until you saw the recognition in his gaze. The weight of the day had finally settled onto you, pressing against your ribs, stealing the breath from your lungs. Once he left, you would be alone on the surface again. Even more than usual.

Erwin turned fully and, without hesitation, pulled you into his arms. The warmth of him, the solid strength, unraveled the last bit of control you had. A sob broke past your lips as you gripped onto him, holding him tightly. "I'm going to miss you."

His hold on you tightened. "I’ll be back as soon as I can."

You believed him. Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world around you felt distant, the quiet hum of the river, the muffled sounds of the city—all of it faded into nothing. It was just the two of you, clinging to a fleeting moment before it could slip through your fingers.

Slowly, reluctantly, you let go. His hands slowly withdrew from you, but still remained on you. Just as they began to pull away completely, his fingers slipped into yours. Then, with deliberate slowness, he lifted your hand to his lips.

The kiss was soft, reverent, lingering just long enough to set your heart pounding in your chest. It was a silent declaration, a moment of defiance against everything this city had ever told you.

Erwin Smith was not afraid to touch you. He did not fear this disease. He did not believe in it. 

It was only a kiss on the hand, but it might have the most romantic thing you had ever felt in your life.

Erwin pulled back, his blue eyes steady as they searched yours for something close to being spoken. Without another word, he turned and walked away.

You watched him go, still frozen in place, your hand tingling from where his lips had been.

One of the MPs beside you offered a light smile. "You ready, my lady?"

You swallowed, exhaling as you nodded. "Yes... Let’s head in.”

[softcursechoso]

The Bodyguards

I'm never drawing Choso like this again. First of all it took too long, and also I miss his sweet faceeeee! I made him too angry, but it's fitting for the fic. He be protective as fuck.

For clarity, it's just Choso x Reader. Yuji and Todo are significant, but for different reasons.

Anyway, this is for an upcoming series that I'm dropping soon. Enjoy some art of the reader's muh fuckin bodyguardsssss!

I fear this song was my inspiration while I was drawing.

[softcursechoso]

Somewhere, We Do: Ch. 5

JJK x Reader Nanami x Reader

Masterlist

MDNI! // 18+ // NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS!

Ch. 5 Warnings: Suggestive talking type shit! A titty in a mouth and grabbing a big dick TYPE SHIIIIT!!! ...I apologize. I am so unserious.

Words: 10.5k+

MAKE UP FOR IT

Office : 1:29pm : Shinjuku

Back in the office is where you were today. Same office chair. Same computer. Same copy machine slowly printing pages of a report that needed to be filed hours ago. Soft chatter and rhythmic typing of keyboards blended in with the occasional ring of a phone.

The Human Resources department was a little quieter than usual. Most employees still dragging their feet from the post holiday slump. Such a mundane life to go back to, but at least your mind was on vacation. 

You sat at your desk eating your homemade bento as you spoke with the work bestie. It’d been five days since your date with Nanami, and you told her nothing about what happened. Wasn’t like you didn’t want to. This was more of in person gossip than over the phone, but unlike you, she actually did go back to the States to visit her family for Christmas.

“Hold on, hold on hold ON! Wait!” She hollered.

“What?” You took a bite of your food, watching her with mild amusement.

“So you went to a goddamn Michelin star restaurant in Roppongi, and then-” She dropped her fork, scrambled up from her seat and rushed to the office door—closing it swiftly before spinning around. “You met Gojo?!” She whispered loudly.

“Mhm.” You nodded, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

“The Satoru Gojo?! The strongest?!” She dramatically stumbled back over to her desk.

You snorted. “Why are you acting like I met God?”

“To some people- he may as well be, okay?”

You shook your head, stifling laughter. “I mean, yeah, he knew Kento. They were friends from high school.”

Kaya froze, her eyes narrowing. “High school? Okay so you know what that means then?”

You sighed, tapping your finger against your desk. “Yup. Jujutsu High alumni.”

You could see Kaya waiting, watching for your reaction. You weren’t shocked though. You already processed your emotions about the whole thing that night. Nanami wasn’t your average person, and that you already knew. He was disciplined, honed. A fighter. A sorcerer.

Kaya crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat, “Have you talked to him about it?”

You shook your head, “I have no idea how to even bring that up. How do you just ask someone if they’re a jujutsu sorcerer? Obviously he left that life behind him for a reason.” 

“Well, you gotta bring it up at some point. That’s pretty major.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I did something really stupid on Christmas.”

“What?” She sat up straight once more.

“I gave him a tie with cursed energy.” You sighed, “If I knew he was a former sorcerer at the time then I wouldn’t have even done that. It’s the most hideous tie I’ve ever seen, but I thought it would be kind of cute for him to wear. I was gonna toss it, but then he gave me this really pretty bracelet, and I was backed into a corner. I literally had to give him the tie because I didn’t want him to think I didn’t get him anything.”

“Oh my fucking God!” Kaya gasped, “He has to know then. Why would you give him a tie with cursed energy? What the hell is wrong with you? I wouldn’t even give that to a regular guy.”

“I just wanted him to be safe.” You slumped in your chair.

Kaya sighed, taking a long sip of her drink. “Well… I guess that’s that… but forget about Nanami for a second. Tell me about Gojo. Was he as handsome in person as they say?”

You shrugged, “He’s alright.”

“Alright?!” Your friend shook your head, “That’s disrespectful!”

You poked at your food with your chopsticks. “I mean, he was very sweet. He gave me a bottle of Reikyo Absolute 0.”

“He GAVE it to you?!” Kaya slammed her hands on the desk.

You blinked, “Yeah. He had all of the leftovers from the restaurant delivered to my house too. Oh, and texted me the other day about hot yoga. He said there’s a studio that’s like ¥20,000 a month, but it also comes with a friend pass. He said he’ll commit and pay the 20k if I go. Very friendly guy. You’d like him.”

“Girl, he’s hitting on you!”

You rolled your eyes, “No, he’s not. Besides, even if he was, he’s looking at the wrong person. My eyes are very fixed.”

Kaya smirked, “Yeah, yeah, sure… So tell me the rest- did you fuck him or not? Nanami, not Gojo.”

You nearly choked as you took a sip of your water. “No!” You coughed, “But it wasn’t for lack of trying, I’ll tell you that.”

She squealed, perking up. “Ooh! So it got a little hot and heavy?!”

You groaned, “It’s like the universe did not bestow their blessing. First the smoke alarm stopped us. Then my damn work alarm on my phone. Ugh… I can’t wait to see him again.”

Kaya raised an eyebrow, “Is that why you made two lunches?”

You slumped in your chair a bit, “Yeah, I was gonna surprise him because we were on the phone last night and he was talking about how he rarely gets a chance to eat lunch, so I decided to make him one… but I don’t have clearance for the top floor, so I can’t even bring it up.”

The blonde woman laughed, “Damn girl. You are head over heels.”

You pouted, “I can’t wait for our second date.”

Kaya smirked, “You better go further than second base next time… and turn off your alarms! Get that dick even if the house is burning down goddammit!”

You laughed, “Shut up!”

The two of you laughed, nudging one another until suddenly- a knock on the door sounded.

“It’s open.” You responded.

The door gently opened, and standing in the doorway- tall, broad, and looking entirely out of place in the HR office. Kento Nanami. 

Your heart stopped practically, and Kaya immediately snapped her mouth shut. What the hell was he doing 50 floors below his office? 

He’d crack the door before walking over to you with purpose. His presence was commanding yet gentle- if at all possible. His hazel eyes were fixed on you. “Good afternoon.��

Before you could even stammer out a greeting, he leaned down, his large hand cupping your jaw- tilting your face upward, and kissed you. It was soft, warm, and so incredibly tender.

It was a slow and meaningful press of lips that spoke of missed moments and the desire to make up for them. Your heart was pounding as you kissed him back.

Kaya whipped her chair around, grabbing a drink and facing her monitor like she was about to hack the mainframe. She was pretending to mind her own business… you appreciated the effort.

You looked up at Nanami with stars in your eyes, “Good afternoon to you too.”

He greeted Kaya with a polite nod, “Nice to see you again.”

“Mhm, you too.” She spoke dismissively as if she wasn’t totally invested in the scene before her.

Your cheeks were on fire as you reached for the bento on your desk. “I made you lunch.”

Nanami looked down at the box- something incredibly soft passed through his features. “You made this for me?”

You smiled softly, “Of course. Can’t have Kento the Closer skipping meals.”

The blonde man let out a low exhale, “I still have no idea where you got that nickname… but thank you nonetheless. I appreciate this.”

“I suppose it’s a fair trade. Some kisses for a bento.” You grinned. “But why are you down here Mr. Finance? Thought you didn’t take breaks.”

He gave a slight, nonchalant shrug,”I came down to say hello to you.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “We haven’t seen each other since Christmas, and it’s a shame especially considering we work in the same building.”

“It’s okay.” Your fingers brushed over his knuckles. “I know your job is time consuming. So is mine. We do what we can. I appreciate any time you can spare for me.”

“Do you?”

You bit your lip softly- shrugging. “Depends. How much time are we talking?”

“What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?” 

Your smile grew, “Spending time with you?”

Nanami’s lips parted as he smiled. It was like he hadn’t expected you to answer so smoothly. You saw that surprise, and before you could call him out on it, he leaned down and kissed you again. It was a short, but sweet kiss- like a promise against your lips.

He pulled back, “We can ring in the new year at my place.”

What?! Oh fuck! Do not react big!

You smirked, doing your best to hide a full on smile. “A peek behind the curtain? How can I resist?”

“I’ll cook dinner. I’ll make it nice for you.” 

You tried your best not to sound desperate as you replied. “I know you will. I’m excited for it.”

He watched you for a second longer before kissing you one last time. His hand cupped your jaw with the softest touch. “I’ll see you soon.”

He’d straighten his coat, tucking the bento under his arm. With one last glance, he turned and left, closing the door softly behind him.

The second the door shut—

“Biiiiiiitch!” Kaya spun in her hair so fast she nearly fell off.

“Ahh! I know!”

She grabbed your shoulders, “Second date at his place?! Ringing in the new year with some back shots! Oh my God!”

You sighed dramatically, flopping against your desk, “I’m in over my head. You saw how sexy he is right? You saw that?”

Kaya pushed all of her work into one pile, “Fuck staying late tonight! We are leaving on time, and we are going shopping! You need lingerie and a dress okay?! He’s making you dinner and you are gonna make him dessert!”

You snorted, nodding. “My thoughts exactly.”

Isetan Shinjuku : 6:23pm : L'Ivresse Parisienne

The streets of Shinjuku were alive with movement. People weaving in and out of stores, cars crawling through intersections, the occasional distant laughter of tourists enjoying their first winter in Tokyo.

Despite the chill in the air, the city was warm with so much energy. As you and Kaya walked along the upscale shopping district, you felt light. 

“I’m thinking modest, but eye catching.” You thought out loud. “Like okay he’s seen me in a sexy dress, but has he seen me in a sleek dress with lingerie under it? No.”

Kaya nodded, “Yeah, normally I am always down for the slutty sorority party dresses, but this time? I think you gotta drive him wild by leaving a little more to the imagination.”

You gasped, “I cannot believe you even said that?”

“I know. I feel pretty ill.” She laughed. “Okay, so sexy lingerie under a modest dress. That means it’s gotta be nasty intimates. Let’s go hard! There’s a L'Ivresse Parisienne right there. Come on.”

Ah yes, the store known for its gorgeous undergarments, and beautiful dresses. Only issue- it was expensive as fuck! Was it worth it?! Plus you guys were talking about modesty, and the L'Ivresse dresses were known for blurring the lines between lingerie and clothing. Whatever. You wanted to impress Nanami. It’d be worth it.

As the two of you stepped into the upscale boutique, the warm lighting and neatly arranged racks of dresses gave the store an elegant feel. The scent of expensive perfumes lingered in the air, and the soft instrumental music from up above created an almost dreamlike atmosphere.

You walked over to a lovely red dress and ran your fingers along the fabric. You’d take in the texture and consider it. Maybe this would be good, but you weren’t too committed.

As you were deep in thought, a familiar silhouette caught your peripheral vision. Long, sleek black hair. Bangs framing a sharp but elegant face. A large yet unmistakable scar that ran from the right cheek over the nose bridge.

She was dressed casually but refined. Cream colored oversized sweater, fitted dark jeans, ankle boots, and a baseball cap. Quite the contrast to the black pantsuits you and Kaya were wearing. What a pleasant surprise. Your old mentor. Your dear friend.

“Look who it is.” Kaya nudged you with a wide smile.

Your eyes amplified, “Hime-chan!”

Before she could even react, you rushed forward, throwing your arms around her back in an excited hug.

The woman let out a startled laugh, but quickly maneuvered so she could wrap her arms around you in return. “What are you doing here?” She pulled back to get a good look at you.

You grinned, “Shopping for some… essentials. What about you? I thought you were in Kyoto still.”

She smiled softly, “I am. I’m just visiting. I leave tonight.”

You pouted, “Damn, glad we caught you then.”

Kaya stepped forward, giving Utahime a quick hug as well. “It’s been so long. You look good.”

“So do you—both of you. Corporate life hasn’t ruined you yet huh?”

You let out a long exhale, “It could be better.”

Kaya rolled her eyes, “It varies from day to day.” 

“Sounds like you hate it.” Utahime tilted her head, “Why don’t you come back then?”

Your smile faltered just slightly as you turned back to the dresses. “I don’t know.” Your fingers brushed against a dark green slip on the rack. “Maybe I just wanted something normal for once, you know? Then again… normal doesn’t make me happy either. I guess I’m still figuring it out.”

The dark haired woman turned to Kaya, “What about you? You plan on staying in the corporate world forever too?”

The blonde shrugged, “It pays the bills.”

You sifted through the dresses, your voice quieter now. “Going back would be tough. I’m out of practice.”

“Out of practice?” Utahime raised a brow. “You have an active seal on yourself right now.”

You froze before whipping around to face her, “How do you know that?”

She crossed her arms. “If you weren’t intentionally suppressing all of your cursed energy, every sorcerer in Shinjuku would feel it. I haven’t forgotten how strong you are.”

You swallowed hard, “Hime-chan…”

It was jarring to hear out loud. It was a reminder of the life you put behind you. Ever since you stepped out of the jujutsu world, you just stopped talking about it. You didn’t even utter the name of your own technique even though you’d been using it everyday to conceal your cursed energy. 

“Just think about it.” Utahime offered you a sweet smile. You wouldn’t be starting from scratch. You could come back to Kyoto, and we could hang out like old times. All three of us.” 

You sighed, but before you could even think of a proper response, Kaya was opening her mouth again. “Yeah, Kyoto might be out of the picture babe.”

“Why?” Utahime tilted her head slightly.

Kaya smirked, “Because she’s got a sexy eight figure boyfriend now, and she definitely won’t leave him without a fight.”

“Kaya!” You attempted to hide a smile.

“Really now?” The pale woman shot her eyebrows up. “Let’s hear it. Who is he?”

You groaned, covering your face. “Do we have to do this? First of all, I’ve only known him for like two weeks.”

“Irrelevant.” Kaya dismissively shooed you. “But anyway, this man is fine, he’s rich, he’s crazy about her, he-”

“Kaya, I’m begging!” You whined.

Utahime laughed, “I knew you’d find someone. You always had a way of making people fall in love with you.”

Her words were so kind. It made your heart swell a little. It’d been years since you last saw Utahime, and yet it felt like nothing had changed. She was still your mentor. She was still your very good friend.

The two of you kept up through social media throughout the years, sure, but nothing was like in person communication. Damn you missed her.

“Listen, I will talk about him, but let me pick out a dress first… it’s my second date in a couple days and I wanna look pretty.”

Kaya clapped, “Eee! That’s what I like to hear!”

Maybe you shouldn’t have opened that window to talk, because now your shopping trip was going to turn into a whole entire interrogation. 

The shop’s soft golden lighting cast a luxurious glow over the racks of elegant dresses and delicate fabrics. The air was so rich with the scent of polished wood and sweet perfumes… and here you were talking about this mysterious boyfriend.

“Okay, so tell me more about this billionaire boyfriend. I wanna know if he’s good enough for you.”

“Hime, he’s not that rich, first of all.” You laugh. 

“Eight figures and she’s not gonna call that rich?” Kaya rolled her eyes.

“Okay, so it’s been two weeks, but if you’re out here shopping for an expensive dress and lingerie—you’re clearly in deep.”

You bit your lip, “He’s… special…” It was the easiest way to describe him without going too far.

The way Nanami looked at you, the way he touched you, the way his presence alone made you feel like you were on solid ground even when the rest of the world felt chaotic. It was one of a kind.

After selecting some potential dresses, you made your way toward the intimates section—the lighting softer, the displays of lace and silk draped over elegant fixtures.

It wasn’t that you minded talking about Nanami, but things were getting serious at a quick pace, and although it was something that you and Nanami understood and accepted, it wasn’t something that was easy to discuss exactly.

Your old friend could tell you were hesitant to say the least, and for that reason she’d not push… well, only on the boyfriend issue. There were still other things she didn’t mind pushing you on.

Utahime kept her voice low, her eyes scanning the store for any eavesdroppers before leaning in slightly. "You and Kaya should think about coming back."

You paused, glancing at her. "Utahime—"

"I’m serious.” She continued in her hushed tone. "You both were incredible back in school. You dominated every Exchange Event, and I know you still have it in you."

Kaya snorted, picking up a lacy red bra. "Man, don’t tempt me, because it really was more interesting back then.”

Before you could even respond, you were being interrupted once again. A sharp, amused voice cut through the air.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite little heartbreaker.”

Enter: Satoru Gojo

All three of you simultaneously turned with completely different reactions. You were surprised.  Utahime was frowning, and Kaya looked like she was meeting God!

Gojo Satoru, dressed in a perfectly tailored black turtleneck, long navy coat draped over his shoulders, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. His snowy white hair was tousled just slightly, his ever-present dark sunglasses hiding his too-knowing gaze.

The grin on his lips was nothing short of pure mischief. It was like he was planning something.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Utahime’s face dropped entirely.

“Hi Gojo.” You waved.

He laughed softly, stepping closer, his gaze fixed entirely on you. “You know the more I see you, the more I think the universe is trying to tell us something.”

“You two know each other?” Utahime groaned audibly.

Kaya cleared her throat, acting like she totally wasn't talking about him earlier. “Yeah, who is this? How'd you meet?”

Gojo ignored Utahime completely, instead taking your hand and—just like last time—placing a kiss against your knuckles. “We met on Christmas, when I saved her from a terrible dining experience.”

 "Oh my God, leave!" Your old mentor yelled. 

The man finally turned to her, looking delighted. “Utahime! I almost didn’t see you there!”

Goodness she looked like she wanted to strangle him. Kaya however was still in shock.

You gestured to the blonde, “Gojo this is Kaya. Kaya, Gojo. Seems you know Utahime already?”

“Nice to meet you Miss Kaya.” Gojo turned back to you, “Did you get a chance to try the Reikyo yet?” 

You smiled, “Not yet. I’m kind of scared to open it. I will eventually though. That was really kind of you to give me. Thank you again for that.”

His grin softened slightly. “Anything for you.”

Utahime groaned louder. "Why are you even here?"

Gojo’s smirk returned. "Fate, probably." 

His eyes then flickered to the lingerie in your hands. The crotchless panties. The sheer bra. The undeniably scandalous set. Oh lord! You just had to be looking at something crazy when he showed up!

Gojo grinned wider. "Oh? Interesting choice."

Utahime smacked his arm, "Go away! That’s for her boyfriend!"

Gojo’s head snapped toward you so fast you thought he might get whiplash. "You’re wearing that for Nanami?!"

Utahime gasped. "You’re dating Nanami?!"

Kaya looked at Utahime—"Wait, you know Nanami?"

You stared at all of them, completely overwhelmed. The world wasn’t so big after all. Especially when it came to the Jujutsu world.

Gojo, recovering quickly, smirked again. "You should try it on."

You blinked. "What?"

He gestured toward the dressing rooms. "I'll point you in the right direction, you know, give you the male perspective."

Utahime nearly lost her mind. "Are you really flirting with her?!"

Gojo looked offended. "What? No!"

"I just said she’s dating Nanami!"

Gojo scoffed. "I was just offering friendly advice." He turned back to you. "Anyway, what are you three up to?”

Utahime crossed her arms, “Obviously shopping for intimates, so leave.”

You smiled, “Pretty much.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve got everything you need already. Why don’t we grab something to eat. On me… again.”

Utahime rolled her eyes in pure irritation.

“Well, I need to pay…” You spoke, totally unsure if you had what you wanted.

“Come on then.” Gojo ushered you over to the register. 

Through the store and past all the intimates you walked. Thankfully there wasn’t a line. Typically in stores like this there never were. The clientele were typically high profile, so it wasn’t exactly a hot spot for normies.

You didn’t even have a chance to sort through the dresses you held. You were just picking up ones that might be pretty and then maybe settling on the cheapest, but nicest one. Same with the lingerie! Fuck! This was way too expensive for you to buy it all.

The cashier held up one dress as he got ready to scan it. 

“Hold on.” You grimaced. “How much was that one again?”

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Gojo grinned as he handed over his card. “She’ll take them all.”

“Gojo. Wait.” Your eyes widened. “One of those dresses is like ¥50,000.”

He looked down at you from over his perched sunglasses. “It’s my pleasure. Just send me a picture of you looking happy in it and we’ll call it even.”

Kaya nearly died hearing that. Choked! Gagged!

“Did you just ask her to sext you?!” Utahime yelled. “That’s Nanami’s girlfriend! You're outta line!”

Gojo smirked, “She’s also my new best friend. Don’t be jealous, Utahime. It’s not even like that.”

Goodness, Kaya was watching all of this like a premium drama series. Guess from the outside looking in it was rather entertaining.

After your clothes were bagged, you were so excited! Now you didn’t have just one dress for New Year’s Eve. You had like five new dresses, and three lingerie sets! Yay!

“Thank you so much.” You smiled at the man. “I will repay you. I’m so serious. I can’t keep accepting these expensive things. It just feels—”

“What did I just say? We’re best friends now. It’s not a favor. It’s a gift.” 

Kaya mumbled, “I want a gift.”

You, Utahime, Kaya, and Gojo were heading for the door now. You’d step out onto street, and the crisp winter air met your skin once more. The lights were bright, and the sky was black with a painted haze of pink and orange near the west.

“So, there’s this nice restaurant I like close by—” Gojo started, but you cut him off without thinking.

"I just ate a big ass bento for lunch, so I’m not that hungry."

He tilted his head slightly, interested. "Oh? Then what do you want?"

You shrugged, glancing down the street. "Ever eat at the takoyaki stand like half a block away?"

Gojo’s entire expression changed. It was like you had just spoken the most fascinating words he’d ever heard. “Is that what you want?”

You blinked at his sudden intensity and shrugged again. "I mean, if that’s what everyone else wants, sure."

Utahime huffed. "Why are we entertaining him?"

Kaya sighed dramatically. "Damn, we were so close to a five-star meal… but I guess street takoyaki is fine."

Gojo grinned. "Sounds like a yes to me. Let’s go."

The walk wasn’t too far away. You knew a shortcut by heart since it was so close to work.

The stand wasn’t anything flashy. It was small, tucked into a quieter part of the street, a faded red noren curtain swaying slightly in the breeze.

Unlike the more tourist-packed food stalls nearby, this one was modest, a single elderly man working behind the griddle, carefully turning golden, crisp octopus-stuffed spheres with years of practiced ease.

You stepped forward, and the owner’s face lit up the moment he saw you. "Ah! My favorite customer."

“Good evening, Aoki-san.”

Kaya giggled. "Of course you’re a regular."

You smirked, pulling out your wallet. "Gotta support the best, right?"

Gojo watched the entire interaction, a slow, amused smile forming on his lips. "You really do have good taste, huh?" He’d stop you before you could take your wallet fully out. “I said it’s on me.”

You grinned, ordering for everyone. "Four regulars, please."

The owner nodded, working quickly. “Right away.”

As you waited, you all fell into easy conversation.

Gojo, ever the agent of chaos, turned to you with an all-too-innocent smile. "So, what are you doing for New Year’s Eve? Any plans?"

Before you could even open your mouth—Utahime cut in immediately. "She’s not hanging out with you."

Gojo clutched his chest dramatically. "That hurts."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "He’s just making conversation."

Gojo nodded solemnly. "See? My new best friend gets me."

Utahime looked like she wanted to physically strangle him. His very presence just pissed her off.

As the conversation continued, your phone buzzed in your purse. You pulled it out and the moment you saw that sender the butterflies in your stomach came fluttering.

Nanami 🍯📈 sent a message.

[Nanami] 🍯📈:  Did you eat yet?

You: I had a big lunch, but I’m getting ready to eat right now with friends. What about you?

[Nanami] 🍯📈: Just finished. The bento you made was delicious. Thank you.

You: You’re just saying that to flatter me.

[Nanami] 🍯📈: I don’t flatter people. It was perfect.

You: Perfect?

[Nanami] 🍯📈: Down to the last grain of rice.

You bit your lip, grinning at your phone like an idiot. Totally unplugged from the real life conversation happening in front of you. 

Kaya immediately caught on. “Look at you. Kicking your feet and twirling your hair over this phone.”

Gojo, not missing a thing, tilted his head. "Who has you smiling like that?"

Utahime rolled her eyes. "Who else? She’s obviously talking to Nanami."

Gojo’s expression shifted slightly, but the grin never left his face. "Nanami can wait. You’re out with your friends. Most importantly, your best friend."

You laughed. “Okay, okay."

You just had to get one last message off though. The conversation was getting good. 

You: I love a man who isn’t afraid to finish his food.

[Nanami] 🍯📈: Oh, I never leave a meal unfinished. Especially when it’s something I want to savor.

You: That so?

[Nanami] 🍯📈: Mm. I like taking my time. Enjoying every taste, every texture. Making sure nothing goes to waste.

You: That’s very thorough of you.

[Nanami] 🍯📈: I can be. When it’s something worth devouring.

You: Oh? Only when it’s worth it? So there are some things you leave on your plate?

[Nanami] 🍯📈: Tell you what. On New Year’s Eve I’ll be sure to answer that question for you. 

“Here you are. Nice and hot!”

“What?! What’s hot?!” Your head shot up. God, you needed to end this conversation with Nanami right now before you combust!

Aoki-san blinked. “The takoyaki.” He handed you the tray of piping hot treats. Steam curling into the winter air.

You stuffed your phone into your purse and received the tray of food. “Thank you so much.” You turned to the others, “Alright, you guys know how to eat takoyaki, right?”

Gojo grinned- shoulders coming up into a shrug. "Why don’t you show us? Open wide."

Utahime immediately smacked him. "PERVERT!"

Gojo laughed, unbothered.

You just rolled your eyes, picking up a skewer. "You have to eat it hot and whole. One bite."

Gojo nodded. "Then we’ll all do it together. On three."

Everyone grabbed their skewers, holding them up.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

You popped the entire takoyaki into your mouth—The heat burst through your mouth instantly, the crispy outside giving way to the molten, rich center.

Your eyes watered from the heat. It was scorching, but it was so good. 

Beside you, Kaya was fanning her mouth furiously. "Ahh! So hot!"

Utahime groaned. "Why did I agree to this?"

Gojo, however—"HOLY SHIT."

You turned, and to your complete and utter bewilderment, Gojo looked like he had just been given the keys to the universe. Like he just found out the reason for life was to eat these takoyaki.

His eyes were glowing behind his sunglasses- his expression one of pure revelation. "This is the single greatest thing I’ve ever eaten!"

Utahime sighed. "You know he’s gonna keep coming here now because of this."

You grinned, shrugging. "That’s good. I’m glad he liked it."

Gojo turned to you suddenly, clasping your hands in his. "My new best friend. My takoyaki queen. How can I ever repay you?"

Utahime frowned. "Stop Satoru."

Gojo just smirked, but for once—he wasn’t joking. Maybe the finer things in life weren’t what you could find in a fancy restaurant, but through shared experiences. Sounded corny, but it was true.

“Let’s have another!” The man smiled widely.

The sizzle of batter crisping on the griddle, the scent of savory bonito flakes and rich takoyaki sauce hung in the cold evening air—it was too good to stop at just one tray.

You, Kaya, Utahime, and Gojo huddled around the food stand, indulging in another round of the delicious, piping hot takoyaki, exchanging stories and playful banter between bites.

Gojo, still reeling from his newfound culinary enlightenment, practically had stars in his eyes as he bit into another piece. "I can’t believe you’ve been hoarding this knowledge and keeping this place to yourself?"

You laughed, shrugging. "I wouldn’t say hoarding. Just… cherishing."

Gojo sighed dramatically. "I see how it is. You only share the good things with special people."

Kaya nudged the man. "Guess that means you’re special now too since she just shared it with you."

Gojo shot you a devastatingly charming smile. "I am special."

Kaya, now sufficiently full and not ready for the night to end, perked up. "So, you guys wanna do karaoke?"

Gojo’s face instantly lit up. "Yes."

Before you could even process it, he had already invaded your space, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. "I know the perfect duet for us."

You tilted your head. "You think you can outsing me?"

Gojo shook his head. "I think we can harmonize."

“Ooh! I’ll invite Kento.” You grinned.

It was like Nanami read your mind. Like he knew you were about to message him.

[Nanami] 🍯📈: You got kind of quiet there.

No, you couldn’t acknowledge this conversation or you’d never get out of it. You had to move on!

You: I’m still out. We’re about to do karaoke. Did you wanna come with?

You knew the answer before you even sent it—Nanami worked late most nights, and while he made time for you when he could, you doubted he’d be able to make it.

Gojo pouted immediately, watching you type. "Why does Nanami have to be here?"

You raised a brow at him. "I thought you said you were best friends."

Without missing a beat, Gojo threw an arm around you. "We are best friends." He spoke smoothly, "But now I have a new best friend. How am I supposed to get to know my new best friend with my old best friend hovering?"

Utahime pinched the bridge of her nose. "You’re exhausting."

Gojo ignored her completely, grinning at you.

You gave a faux pout. "Sorry, I already asked him if he wanted to come."

[Nanami] 🍯📈: Probably can’t make it. I’m still working.

You: Aww, well I’ll tell Gojo you said hi.

[Nanami] 🍯📈: You’re with Gojo?

There was a pause.

…

Gojo’s phone started ringing. His grin widened. "Oh? A surprise call from Nanamin?"

You couldn’t hear the other end, but the moment Gojo answered, his entire demeanor shifted.

"Nanamin!—" His expression froze. Then, his smile twitched slightly.

He tilted his head away from you just slightly, nodding as he listened. From what you could tell, Nanami was absolutely laying into him. Gojo’s voice remained smooth as ever, but you could see the slight twitch of his fingers, and the way he adjusted his sunglasses...

"We’re just having fun."

A pause.

Gojo’s lips curled at the corner. "Don’t worry. I’m taking care of her needs."

Another pause.

Gojo laughed. "Oh, come on, of course I didn’t mean it like that."

A pause again.

“If that were the case I wouldn’t have answered the phone.”

Utahime and Kaya watched in pure entertainment.

Gojo continued deflecting whatever it was Nanami was throwing at him, but the more he spoke, the more you could tell—he was losing.

Finally, after a few more moments, he hung up.

Your phone buzzed.

[Nanami] 🍯📈: I’ll be there in 10.

Your eyes widened, and you grinned. "Yay! Kento’s coming!"

Gojo, with absolutely no enthusiasm, “Yay."

Kaya clapped her hands. "Well, let’s get a room before we freeze to death. Nanami can meet us there."

Kira Kira Karaoke : 7:32pm : Shinjuku

The karaoke lounge was cozy and dimly lit, with a plush red couch stretching along the walls, a low table in the center already stacked with a tablet for song selection, thick menu books, and a sleek microphone resting in its dock.

The wall-mounted screen flickered, displaying an array of colorful music videos while soft ambient lighting pulsed faintly in the background.

You and Kaya immediately made yourselves comfortable, tossing your bags onto the empty space beside you.

"Alright, what’s everyone drinking?" Kaya asked, flipping open the menu.

Utahime sighed. "Something strong, so I can survive this night."

Gojo gasped. "Ouch, Utahime. This is gonna be fun."

You scrolled through the song list, biting your lip. "Hmm, what should I start with?"

Gojo, already grabbing the mic, grinned. "I’ll start."

You and Kaya cheered. "Let’s hear it!"

Gojo stood, tossing his coat onto the couch, rolling up his sleeves dramatically. He tapped the screen, selecting his song.

The moment the intro began, you blinked in pure shock. A ballad. A full-blown, soulful, heart-wrenching ballad.

You sat back, utterly bewildered as Gojo launched into First Love by Hikaru Utada—with actual skill. And strangely… It felt directed at you.

His voice was surprisingly good, rich and deep, laced with just the right amount of emotion to make it actually believable.

Kaya and Utahime stared. Gojo was putting on a performance, his eyes lingering on you, his voice achingly smooth as he delivered the melodic heartbreak of the lyrics.

Then, when he hit the last note, he grinned, expecting applause—but…

“Kento!” 

Nanami opened the door just in time.

You perked up instantly, your attention completely shifting.

Gojo’s smile dropped. "Wow, okay. Way to steal my moment, Nanami."

Nanami arched a brow, stepping inside, scanning the room before his gaze landed on you.

He looked perfect as ever—still in his crisp white button-up with sleeves neatly rolled, tie gone, top button undone.

You waved him over and Kaya immediately scooted to the side, giving Nanami the seat right next to you.

He greeted both Kaya and Utahime before he settled beside you. The warmth of his broad frame immediately noticeable, his scent—clean, deep, laced with that nice cologne—intoxicating.

Your voice lowered, "I’m glad you could make it.” You looked at him practically awestruck.

He exhaled softly. "Me too."

Then, his eyes flickered to the shopping bags beside you. "What’s all this?"

You smirked. "Just a little something something."

Nanami’s brow lifted. "What does that mean?"

You leaned in, "Incentive to clean your plate?"

Nanami’s lips parted slightly, gaze sharpening with interest. "It’s cute you think I need any help.” His voice low and warm.

Okay, no! You can’t be doing this here!

Before either of you could push that moment further, a microphone was shoved directly in Nanami’s face.

"Here!" Gojo said dramatically. "Follow that up."

Nanami blinked slowly, exhausted already.

You grabbed the mic immediately. "Oh! Okay!"

Gojo opened his mouth to clarify, but it was too late. You were already on your feet.

"I’m dedicating this song… to Utahime!"

Utahime immediately groaned. "Oh no."

Kaya perked up. "Ooh! I already know what it is! Utahime’s favorite!"

The beat dropped. A fast, upbeat, brightly energetic intro filled the room—Mottai Nightland by Kyary Pamyu Pamyu.

You launched into the song full force, grinning as you twirled in place. "Mada mada motto, muchuu ni sasete~"

It took no effort for Utahime and Kaya to join in, singing along. The room shifted—it felt alive, warm, electric.

Nanami, seated on the couch, just watched you. Completely captivated. The way your eyes lit up, the way your smile could melt an entire city. It wasn’t that song. It was you.

Your movements were effortless, the way you swayed to the beat, the way you radiated joy.

Gojo, despite being pushed out of the spotlight, was cheering the loudest. "That’s my new best friend! Mottai night!"

Nanami shook his head, exhaling, but his eyes never left you. There was something deeply grounding about you, something magnetic.

Even now, after a long workday, exhausted and still half-thinking about deadlines—you were the only thing that existed… and when you caught his stare—your smile softened, eyes lingering on his.

His breath hitched. Dammit. You had him.

The final notes of your song faded, and the room erupted into cheers.

Kaya and Utahime clapped enthusiastically, while Gojo was dramatically fanning himself like he had just witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime performance. 

"My best friend, everyone!" Gojo declared, as if the audience was bigger than the four of you. "An absolute star!"

You grinned, curtseying before plopping back down beside Nanami, feeling warm and exhilarated.

Kaya hopped up from her seat, stretching. "Alright, my turn!"

She flicked through the song selection, choosing something upbeat, and as the opening melody played, Nanami leaned slightly toward you.

"You have a beautiful voice.”

You tilted your head, smiling. "That’s not exactly the kind of song you showcase your vocal talents with, but… thank you."

Your gaze lingered on him for a moment. You noticed something. "No tie?"

Nanami’s lips curved into a small smirk. "You said you like it without the tie."

Shit.

You nodded slowly. "I do… but you must’ve forgotten what I said about the buttons."

His eyes glimmered with amusement. "I didn’t forget. I just like when you fix it."

Heat rushed to your cheeks, but you didn’t hesitate. No, you couldn’t hesitate!

Your fingers moved to his collar, expertly unfastening two buttons, revealing more of the firm plane of his chest.

"Much better." You spoke, smoothing your hands lightly over the fabric.

His eyes darkened just slightly. "What about you?"

"What about me? You wanna unbutton my shirt?"

Nanami’s voice was like silk and gravel now. "I might not stop at two."

Your eyes widened. Your stomach tightened. Your thighs pressed together on instinct. You were not going to make it through this night! Inviting Nanami was a mistake!

"STOP THE SONG!" Gojo shouted.

The entire room jerked back into reality as Gojo dramatically flailed toward the screen.

Kaya, who had been singing, paused mid-lyric, confused. "What?"

Gojo pointed an accusatory finger at Nanami. "I’m trying to enjoy your version of 2 On, but he’s talking through the whole thing! Start over!"

Kaya snorted. "It’s fine, man. He’s talking to his girl." She winked at you.

Gojo’s jaw dropped as he looked around. "Is no one else offended by this?!"

Utahime, arms crossed, deadpan as ever. "No one."

You turned to Gojo, putting on your most apologetic expression. "I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ll be quiet."

Gojo’s expression softened, as he took your hand, patting it sympathetically. "I could never blame you. It’s not your fault."

You grinned. "Oh? Then whose fault is it?"

Gojo glanced at Nanami. "You know whose fault it is."

Nanami, completely unbothered, just rested his hand on your thigh. The warmth of his palm was solid, grounding, fingers resting just enough to drive you insane. How were you supposed to focus like this? 

You looked at him with such a surprised but also pretty aroused expression. Like goddamn, could your horny sex face be any harder to hide?! You weren’t good at this!

His breath ghosted over your ear, his voice low and hushed, meant for you alone. "If you keep looking at me like that I’m going to have a very hard time keeping my hands where they are."

Heat pulsed through your core. Your thighs tensed. Your entire body reacted before your mind could even process it. He felt it, and he was unfortunately the poker face champion of the world!

You gasped softly, glaring at him. "You can’t just say things like that."

He tilted his head keeping in close proximity to you, "Why not?"

Your nails dug into your own knee. “Because I might… fall—”

Nanami chuckled softly. "I'll catch you."

Kaya finished her song, and cheers circulated. Who was next?

Gojo: A Man Who Refuses to Lose Attention

He was kind of desperate to regain your focus as he cleared his throat. "You know, best friend, we still have our duet."

"Duet?"

Gojo smirked. "‘A Whole New World.’ You and me. Let’s do it."

Nanami rolled his eyes.

Utahime sighed into her drink.

Kaya sipped her cocktail, fully entertained.

You laughed, still trying to shake off the warmth in your chest. "Alright, alright. Let’s see if you can keep up with me."

Nanami, leaned back a bit. He wasn’t worried as you and Gojo stood up.

You pulled a second mic from the front stand and turned it on. Okay, maybe you didn’t have to show off your vocal talents with the first song, but you’d definitely have to now. 

The bright neon lights of the karaoke screen pulsed in time with the intro of A Whole New World, and you couldn't help but smile at how over-the-top Gojo already was.

The moment the first soft, whimsical notes played, Gojo straightened his spine, lifted his chin, and extended a hand toward you as if he were about to perform on a Broadway stage.

You sighed dramatically but took his hand anyway. The second you opened your mouth to sing, Gojo’s grin widened.

Your voice was soft yet strong, and surprisingly… it blended really well with his. Gojo, ever the performer, sang with obnoxious enthusiasm, one hand over his heart, the other dramatically gesturing to the invisible horizon like he was actually soaring through the sky on a magic carpet.

He was singing directly to you, his voice controlled, hitting every note with frustrating ease.

You could feel Nanami’s eyes on you, and you stole glances at him between verses.

His face was neutral, but you could read the tension in his shoulders, the sharp flicker of his gaze. He was watching you too intently. 

Yes, just watch Kento!

By the time the final note faded, Gojo spread his arms like he had just performed the concert of the century. "WOW!"

You laughed, “What do you know, we can harmonize.”

Gojo collapsed onto the couch next to Utahime, sighing dramatically. "That was perfect."

You giggled. "It was fun."

"No, no, no, best friend, listen." He grabbed your hand. "That wasn’t just fun. That was art."

You leaned over and gestured the mic to Utahime who hadn’t had a chance to sing yet.

She put her hands up slightly and shook her head, “No thank you. I just wanna watch.”

Kaya grinned. "Alright, I’ll go again!"

As she flipped through the song selection, you settled comfortably back against the couch—Until Nanami’s voice broke through the noise.

His voice was low, casual—like he wasn’t about to say something that would leave you absolutely floored. "I never realized you could hit such high notes."

You turned toward him slowly, suspicious. His expression was neutral. Too neutral.

You tilted your head. "I mean, yeah. I can sing."

He’d lean in close once again. "I wasn’t talking about singing."

"Kento!" You hissed.

His expression didn’t waver. Like he hadn’t just said something that made your entire body react. He was taunting you, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

Guess it was sort of the natural order of things. After Christmas, your late night calls had been getting spicier. For some odd reason you just hadn’t expected him to keep this same energy in person.

Alright. Two could play that game. You leaned in just slightly, lowering your voice "You know…" You let your gaze flicker down deliberately before returning to his face. "It’s a good thing you’re such a patient man. Most wouldn’t last long with me."

Nanami’s entire body went still. His grip on his drink tightened. His jaw clenched so subtly that no one but you would have noticed. He didn’t look at you right away. Instead, his gaze dragged over you, slow, controlled, hot.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was softer, rougher. "I’m not most men. You know that?"

You smiled innocently. "Sure, Kento."

You clapped along with Kaya’s song, pretending like you hadn’t just shattered his composure, even if for a brief moment.

By the time the song ended, the room erupted into cheers and laughter.

You looked back at Nanami, eyes wide with fake innocence. "What?"

“Let’s find a song we can all sing!” Gojo excitedly sprang up.

You shifted in your seat, stretching slightly before brushing a hand over Nanami’s thigh for balance as you stood up again. Well, at least that was the excuse.

Your fingers landed higher than intended, warmth pressing dangerously close to something firm.

Nanami’s breath hitched. Did you strike a nerve? You didn’t even bother to correct yourself.

Your fingers lingered for a bit longer than they should—feeling the hard muscle of his leg beneath his slacks, before you pulled away. "Be right back. I gotta use the restroom."

Nanami’s eyes followed you. He didn’t hesitate. "Excuse me." He said to no one in particular before standing up. He just needed to go.

Utahime and Kaya were too engrossed in conversation, Gojo too busy scrolling through the song list. It was kind of the perfect time to leave. 

They didn’t notice the way Nanami followed after you, didn’t see the heat in his stare as he trailed you down the dimly lit hallway toward the bathrooms.

When you rounded the corner, away from view—A strong grip closed around your waist.

Yes you were in public, but there was no one over here. You weren’t even near the restrooms quite yet. You were off to the side. A corner near a supply closet. In other words- alone.

Your back hit the wall, breath escaping in a soft gasp as Nanami pinned you in place. The air thickened instantly, tension wrapping around you both like something that needed to be acted on.

"You wanna try that again?" His voice was low, rough, slipping through your veins like whiskey.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "Try what, Kento?"

A muscle in his jaw flexed. Then, without another word, his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was demanding, his fingers digging into your waist, pressing you deeper against the wall. You weren’t just going to grab so dangerously high on his thigh without repercussions. 

You melted into him, arms looping around his broad shoulders, fingers slipping into his neatly-styled hair.

His lips parted slightly, and heat flooded your body as his tongue teased yours- slow and deliberate. A low sound rumbled in his chest, his palm skimming down your side, fingers tracing the outline of your waist.

He pulled back ever so slightly- lips brushing your ear. "On second thought, I think your shirt could lose a couple of buttons."

"Okay.” You smirked. "Help me out then. Don't keep a girl waiting."

His breath faltered just slightly, before his fingers moved to your top button. You felt breathless as the first button popped open. 

Why didn’t you think this man had the balls to do such a thing? Of course he did. He was stuck in that office every day of the week. That pent up frustration had to come out somewhere.

His lips followed immediately, trailing down the newly exposed skin at the base of your neck.

The next button slipped free. His lips dipped lower, pressing hot and slow against your collarbone.

He said he might not stop at two. Is he really going to push it?

The third button—gone. His mouth dragged lower, breath skating over the swell of your chest. Then, his fingers brushed against the top edge of your bra.

This felt so hot, so naughty- so scandalous. You were in public for crying out loud! How far was this gonna go? You had no willpower or desire to say no if he wanted to fuck you right here in this corner.

His hazel eyes flicked up, voice husky and deep. "Can I?"

Your pulse pounded. “Mm, yes.” You voice came out breathier than expected.

His pupils dilated as he kept his eyes on you. They slowly broke away as they gazed downward now. His teeth grazed your bra before pulling it down and exposing you.

It was such a shame you were in public. He wanted to savor such a gorgeous sight. Nipples nice and perky just for him. He watched as they reacted- becoming taut against the cool air.

His lips closed around your nipple. A sharp breath escaped you as warmth engulfed your body. Tongue lapping and swirling, lips sucking slow and deep. Guess he wasn’t all talk.

“Fuck.” You let out a weak, airy moan.

His other hand traced up your side, thumb brushing over your other nipple, teasing the sensitive bud that deserved no such neglect. 

Your head tipped back against the wall, knees weakening as heat pooled between your legs. Your hands gripped his shirt, certainly scratching him through the fabric. 

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan, but the way his mouth worked you—licking, sucking, nibbling—Your body reacted instantly, heat spiking, and desire skyrocketing.

You could tell by the way he sucked you harder he liked that. He liked the way you tried to hide it, but it felt so good that you couldn’t do it. 

Your fingers, desperate for stability, drifted downward, skimming over his broad chest, down the muscles of his abdomen. That wasn’t their final destination, no. You went lower. 

Fingertips cascading over his belt, giving it a stern, but ultimately, teasing tug. You wanted him to be fully aware of where you were going… but perhaps it’d be you who was in for more of a surprise than he was.

You traced his length through his pants, slow and teasing before you froze. "...Oh my God."

Your breath faltered. The length of him was—It kept going. Oh fuck. Your smile faded, replaced with pure, unfiltered shock. Sure your hand was moving slowly, but you weren’t even at the full length yet.

Your pulse roared in your ears. "Kento… Oh my God."

This man may have had the single biggest dick you have ever come in contact with. Where the fuck could this fit?! You had a feeling when it came down to it he’d make it work.

Nanami let out a low, rough chuckle. “Don’t be worried.”

His teeth caught your nipple, drawing back in a way that would bring you the utmost pleasure. Your hand gripped his hair in response, not knowing how to even react otherwise.

But of course- just like with your first date, the universe did not favor you. She was an unkind bitch!

A drunken patron stumbled into view just as things were spicy. "Oh, my bad!"

Nanami immediately pulled back, his jaw tight. He moved to shield your body with his own in a way that didn’t look completely suspicious. More like a hulking businessman casually standing in front of a woman.

“Jus lookin fer the bathroom.” The drunk man hiccupped before walking the other way in the actual correct direction.

You exhaled, still dazed, watching as Nanami turned  back toward you. His long fingers expertly buttoning your shirt again.

You sighed. "The universe really doesn't want this to happen."

Nanami tilted his head. "Doesn’t want what to happen?"

You gave him a look. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

His gaze didn’t waver. "I want to hear you say it."

You tilted your chin up slightly, stepping closer, fingers trailing up the front of his chest. "You’ll just have to beg me."

A low exhale left him before a strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you flush against his chest.

His voice was sweet like honey, but dangerous like a trap. "I’m not the begging type."

Your pulse spiked again, your body still coursing with heat. “Neither am I.”

“I’m sure that's not true.”

Nanami’s lips were back on yours. It was hungry, a silent frustration spilling through the kiss. Still, behind it, he knew that something was bound to interfere again… and you did too.

You crossed your arms smirking as you pulled away.

Nanami tilted his head, lips barely parting. "What’s that look?"

You brushed a hand along his jaw, thumb tracing the sharp edge of his cheekbone. "I know the universe is gonna stop us again."

His brow ticked up, and he sighed, closing his eyes briefly like he was conceding to the inevitable.

Then, when he opened them again, his gaze was darker, more focused. "You can feel it too, huh?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

"New Year’s Eve."

You blinked up at him. "Hmm?"

His hands tightened on your waist. "I’ll make up for it on New Year’s Eve. It’ll be all about you."

A slow shiver ran through your body at the weight of those words. You felt his promise in them, felt the gravity behind his tone.

"I look forward to being taken care of."

"No distractions."

You nodded again. "None."

Your fingers slid down his chest, reveling in the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. "Even if the house is burning down?"

Nanami chuckled softly, "I’ll make sure the fire doesn’t reach you."

You laughed, but before it could last—a sharp vibration cut through the moment, and both of you immediately stilled.

You didn’t even have to check to know what it was. His boss. At the exact wrong moment.

Both of you groaned simultaneously. "There it is."

You sighed, stepping back. "Go on then."

He answered the call, voice slipping into something more professional. You weren’t really listening though. You were just watching.

The way his jaw flexed, how his forearms shifted as he adjusted his sleeves. How his shirt was slightly wrinkled now, collar still open from where you had undone the buttons earlier. His hair was slightly messy, fingers running through it as he spoke into the phone. He looked so fucking good.

This man was going to ruin you before, during, and after New Year’s Eve.

The call was brief, just a few clipped sentences, a sigh, and then he hung up. "Boss needs me back."

You exhaled dramatically. "Figured." A grin tugged at your lips, though.

Nanami narrowed his gaze slightly. "What?"

"Take care of yourself in the bathroom first.” You teased.

Nanami’s brow twitched, but his expression stayed neutral. "I know how to hide it."

You snorted. "No. That’s a lot to hide. I’m scared."

His eyes studied you, and his voice dipped into something lower, smoother. "Don’t be scared. I’ll make it easy for you.”

You had no idea what that meant, but the way he said it made something in your stomach tighten painfully.

“We’ll see about that.”

Nanami smirked just slightly, leaning in for another kiss. You let it linger, let your fingers brush the back of his neck.

"I’ll tell the others you had to head back to work."

Nanami nodded, "Do you need a ride home?"

You shook your head. "No. I wanna see Utahime off at the train station, so Kaya’s gonna drive me."

Nanami nodded again, but something flickered in his eyes. Something knowing. "I never asked, how do you know Utahime?"

Your lips curved into a slow smile. "Why don’t we both discuss how we know her on New Year’s Eve?"

He watched you carefully, but you could tell—he knew. Realistically he probably could tell from the tie you gave him. Then again, maybe he thought it was a coincidence.Instead of pushing, he leaned down and kissed you again. It would all be discussed in due time. 

The kiss was slow and deep- like he was imprinting you into memory before he left.

Then, against your lips, he spoke, "Text me when you get home."

You pouted. "Aww, no late-night call tonight?"

Nanami smiled. "Call me when you get home then."

Your heart fluttered. "Okay, Kento."

He brushed a thumb over your cheek, then stepped back. You watched him leave, feeling the heat of his touch still on your skin. 

It was time to head back now. Wrap up this impromptu outing and see an old friend off.

Shinjuku Station : 11:47pm : Shinjuku

After Nanami took off you’d continue a few more rounds of karaoke. It was pleasant, but you wished he did more than just stop by. There was something about his presence that was so grounding, even if he didn’t sing or directly participate.

He had no choice though. He had work.

The night carried on, and although you wanted it to continue, Utahime had a train to catch. You wanted to see her off. After assuring Gojo multiple times that you would hang out again, you were here at the train station waiting to see your old friend off.

The three of you stood at the train station, the air crisp and quiet, the distant hum of the city muted beneath the glow of dim platform lights.

Utahime’s bags rested by her feet, her posture relaxed yet weighted, as if she was reluctant to leave but accepting of it all the same.

Kaya stuffed her hands into her pockets, "I can't believe you're ditching us." She teased, trying to keep things lighthearted.

You nudged her. "She's not ditching us. She’s going home."

"Same difference." Kaya huffed.

Utahime just smiled softly, shaking her head before pulling you into a hug. You held onto her tightly, feeling the warmth of her familiar embrace. Even after all these years, even with the distance, the changes, the time apart—she still felt like home.

"I don’t know how far you plan to take things with Nanami…" The raven haired woman backed up a bit with her hands still on your shoulders. "Maybe it's something that happens when you're in a shitty situation. Maybe it's right place, wrong time…"

You pressed your lips together. Listening.

She exhaled, giving your shoulders a squeeze. "I just hope you two can make it work. I didn’t see much, but whatever that was… it was real."

Your chest tightened. "I know." You admitted softly.

It was still so early, but you could see something more than just casual dating with Nanami. Something you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to name yet, but whatever it was, it was definitely real.

You sighed. "I just hope work doesn’t get in our way." You paused thoughtfully, "Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad rejoining the jujutsu world again."

The words left your mouth before you could stop them. A gust of wind swept through the station as if reacting to the weight of your admission.

Utahime’s eyes widened. Was that a real statement, or were you just mindlessly speaking?

Kaya let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her chest. "Oh wow. You actually said it."

You groaned. "Don't make this a thing."

"This is a thing!"

"It's not a thing."

Utahime’s shock faded into something gentler, something knowing. "You know getting back into it means lifting that seal."

You nodded. "Yeah. I know what it means."

The moment felt heavier than the night air. Utahime looked between you and Kaya, lips pressing together before she crossed her arms.

"You too." She spoke to Kaya. "I won’t let you both rot behind a desk. It wouldn’t feel right."

“Rot?” Kaya made a face. "Okay, rude."

The sound of the train approaching broke the moment. A pang of sadness settled in your chest. This was it. She was leaving. A short amount of time, but something worth cherishing. No need to spill tears. You’d see her again. Hopefully with a plan next time.

The three of you exhaled simultaneously, before Utahime threw her arms around you both, squeezing tightly.

"Kyoto could use teachers like you." She murmured. "The government could use sorcerers like you. Either route you choose, let me know. When you're ready, give me a call. There's always a spot open for you."

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Thanks."

She pulled back, taking a step toward the train as the doors pulled open. Just as the moment was about to settle into something bittersweet and heartfelt—Kaya, of all people, ruined it.

"Utahime! Wait!... I never asked… Why the fuck were you in L'Ivresse Parisienne earlier?"

You whipped around. "Kaya—that is a good question though."

"When I spotted you, you were holding a see through dress. Ummmm…"

Utahime rolled her eyes. “I’m going home."

You burst out laughing. The train doors started closing, and at the last second, Utahime shook her head with a small smirk.

You watched as the train pulled away. The two of you kept up your smiles and waved until it pulled away completely.

The station was quiet again. You and Kaya stood there for a moment, watching the train disappear into the distance.

“I’m going home." Kaya mimicked in a deep voice, then immediately cracked up.

You gasped for air, wheezing. "I cannot stand you. Do not call her out! You know how she is."

She wiped away a fake tear. "What a beautiful send-off. She'll be back. She totally missed us."

You shoved her playfully. "Come on, let's get out of here before you say something else dumb."

"No promises."

As the two of you walked away, the weight of the night lingered in your chest.

You didn’t know what the future held, but maybe it was nice not knowing… at least for now.

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