Twizzled

---

His quarters were cold, that was the first thing you noticed. 

You expected frost to be on the windows, and your breath to be visible in the moonlight, but you could only shudder as you looked around the candle-lit room, wondering when the apparent king was going to make his appearance. 

Your shoulders were covered by the robes they had given you, but you still shivered as you took a slow step forward, expecting an echo to follow suit. 

You jumped when the door behind you clicked opened, and you looked behind to see his looming shadow behind you, growing slowly as he took steps forward, and you could feel his icy gaze taking you in.

His white hair matched the surroundings, and his eyes, oh his eyes. So blue, such a color seemed to be unknown to humankind. You wanted to reach in and hold his face so you could see if he had diamonds in his sockets, but you knew to restrain yourself, straining your spine as you matched his stare.

You had heard of the king's attractive outward appearance. Even when he had ordered for his old wife and her concubines to be executed, many of the women of the nation volunteered to fill her place as they never thought a man with such grace could be so cruel. 

“My king,” You said with a deep bow, the shawl that loosely covered your shoulders almost slipping off your skin at the movement. 

“Are you Y/n?” He asked, his voice deep and rich as he circled you, taking in your hair, the way your face seemed to shine brightly with the help of the candles, and how the robe around your shoulder hung snuggly around your body. 

“Yes,” You bit out, swallowing your fear as you turned with him, not wanting the man to see your true emotions. 

“You’re the oldest daughter of Ja’far?” His gaze traveled across your frame, settling seconds longer on your lips until they left as they glanced at the window. 

“Yes,” You said through clenched teeth, the unsettling blue in his eyes reminding you that you were simply a lamb in the lion's den. 

You watched as he slowly nodded, his jaw set in place as he glanced around the room, his nose wrinkling at the overpowering rose scent that lingered in your neck and wrists. 

“I’m Satoru,” He said, though you already knew that, “And I can assure you that these next hours aren’t as you’ve heard,” He mentioned with a tilt in his voice, but that only made your heartbeat more erratically, most likely the opposite of how he wanted you to react.

He worked by taking his gloves off, slender finger after slender finger, and he dropped them somewhere to the side, running a hand through his hair as he turned his back towards you, sighing deeply as he pinched his nose.

He moved to get something behind you, a drink the servants had laid out for him as he took in a heavy sip, his lips tainted red with the wine as he stared at the back of your head. 

His hands were slow yet delicate as they found their way up to your hips, and you let out a quiet yelp as you felt his cold fingers tracing the patterns that adorned your robes. 

“You’re pretty,” He muttered, his breath fanning over the skin of your neck, making you shiver, almost making you forget where you were as you felt your knees wobble from the weight of your body, “Haven’t seen you before, have I?” And you weakly shook your head, your heart pounding roughly against your ribcage as you felt his lips land on the skin beneath your ear, surprisingly gentle and warm as they kissed and nipped.

“You’re sweet, too,” He observed, and you could have sworn that have only lined your lips with honey, but he seemed intent on his statement, his lips moving more quickly as his hands reached up to the strings that tie your robes together.

And you froze, knowing that if he were to proceed, he’d surely kill you in the morning. And wouldn’t allow yourself to die tomorrow. You could not die to a man who wanted nothing more than to take your humanity and then dispose of you as if you were stale rice. You had a life planned outside of the palace walls, and you knew that deep down, this king could be manipulated in his fragile state of mind.

Your eyes darted around the room, trying to find anything to secure yourself until they landed on a jeweled knife, its handle crusted in rubies and emeralds and your eyes widened slightly with a mad, certainly mad, idea.

It was sharp and cleaned with precision. Sharp and versatile, and you didn’t doubt he had used it in the act of killing. 

“That knife!” You sputtered out, stuttering as you stumbled forward out of his grasp, almost hoping you could swallow the words back at the way he snapped his head towards you.

“What?” 

“A man once used that exact knife to get through the mountains of Zagros,” You quickly regained yourself, mind running quickly, two sides of yourself debating between doing this or sleeping with the king to quicken your eventual death.

The king stared at the knife for a couple of seconds before looking at you once again, his brows furrowed. 

“Excuse me?”

You straightened your shoulders once again, clearing your throat as you tried to regain your confidence. 

“A man that went by the name Aghā Ali,” You said, voice barely coming out of your throat as you tried to think of something as quickly as you could in your messed state, “When his daughter fell ill to the plague, he became desperate to find a cure. The village apothecary told him to go to the Zagros mountains and cut the red flowers he’d find in a field,” You nodded your head in the direction of the knife, “And he used a knife just like that one to cut the stem of the flowers when he found them…”

Silence fell in the space between the two of you, and you could see the rise and fall of his chest as millions of ideas running through his crystalline eyes.

“Are you telling me a story?” He asked incredulously, almost as if he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

You cleared your throat, trying to shrug it off as you stared back at the knife.

“I’m simply stating that a man once used that knife before to save his daughter.”

“How do you know he used my knife?” He was testing you now, you could easily tell. His lips had curved into an evil smile, a cat's grin as he took a step closer to you, sensing the fear that still radiated off from your body. 

“W-well, not your knife, but one that looked much like that,” You explained, swallowing dryly as you tried for a sweet smile, one that he might like, as you continued.

“His late wife had given it to him as a present, and so he used it wherever he went, for whatever that he could.”

The king didn’t say anything, so you took it as a sign that he wasn’t angry yet.

So you moved, putting on the facade of somebody confident in their story as you slyly moved behind him, causing him to follow your quick feet as you walked over to the table, careful as you picked up the heavy dagger.

It was strange in your hand, and you could tell how uneasy he felt with the weapon in your hand. 

So you set it down, nodding as you swallowed your spit once again.

“Ali didn’t know his way around the mountains, so he got lost frequently in search of the flower,” Your fingers traced the rubies, shaking as you turned the knife over, running a pinger across the blade as you winced when it slit your skin, your blood staining it a bright red as you felt his eyes follow you. 

“And because he had no map he went off of instinct alone,” You moved around the table, eyes darting to the slick pillows and shawls fit for a king. 

“At night, he would lay under the moon and use his knife as a way to cut the animals open so that he could eat them for dinner. The mountains didn’t have anything big such as deer or goat, but he could hunt the occasional rabbits, even duck if he were lucky enough to pass by a lake.” You looked up at him from your lashes to see what he was doing, and much to your surprise he was staring back just as intently. 

“The man knew that with each passing day his daughter would be getting sick and sicker, and though she was stronger than his wife in terms of physical strength, the plague took no longer than a month to kill even the strongest of the king's soldiers, according to the village apothecary.”

Your robes felt heavy on your sides as you moved around the room, feeling the weight of everything slow you down as you tried to quickly think of more things to drag the story on. 

“So he continued the track across the mountain, getting weaker by the hour, more tired by the minute and he still could not find the flowers he needed to heal his daughter.”

“Why go through so much?” The king interrupted, clearly annoyed with the way your story was going. 

You stammered at the question, brows furrowing as you tried to make sense of it. 

“Go through so much?” You repeated, shaking your head, forgetting who you were and where you were as you tilted your head to the side, “ I’m not sure I understand,”

He shook his head, looking at the dagger as he simply shrugged. 

“The old man must be withering away in these conditions. If the girl would die in a matter of weeks, why should he push himself to such an extent?”

“Because it’s his daughter,” You quickly argued back, eyes narrowing as the king moved forward, taking off his heavy coats as he sighed in relief at the release of the material. 

“And?” 

“Well…” You sighed; realizing this must be difficult to explain to this particular man, “He cares for her and he doesn’t like to see his daughter in pain. He’s going through all this hard to make sure that she’ll be alright.” He scoffed as his hands found their way to a bowl, taking out one of the dates as he chewed on it before he spits the seed out. 

“That seems like a figment of the imagination,” The king chewed and then swallowed, his blue eyes never leaving yours as he explained, “Fathers don’t care much for their daughters.”

A part of you boiled in outrage at the statement. 

“Perhaps some don’t, my king, but that doesn’t mean all fathers carry no ounce of care for their daughters,” He could see your tremor fade off as it soon got replaced with fiery anger. 

“No?” He asked coyly, talking out another date as he repeated the same actions. 

“No,” You said without letting your voice waver. 

“Then why did your father offer you up tonight? Surely he could have picked your other sister if he cared for you that much. Or the servant that’s standing right outside my door. Or maybe even the girl who cleans up the horse shit in the stables. Surely a fathers love my reach beyond that point, no?”

You could feel your resolve crumble as you listened to his words, your heart heavy isn’t the small expanse of your chest as you refused to breathe properly. 

Did he simply offer you up as easily as the king was saying? Just like a lamb for slaughter?

“Just as I was saying,” He continued, happy with your obvious shock, “I find it rather hard to believe that Ali would go through the mountains of Zagros to find a flower for his dying daughter.”

He looked pleased with your silent state, watching keenly as you swallowed the thick lump accumulating in your throat. You took in a deep breath, controlling the shake in your voice as you stared at something behind him. 

“The old man was relentless,” You continued the story, pretending that your conversation with the king was nothing, and missed the way his face fell for a second, taken back by the way you could compose yourself with clear tears making their way into your waterline, “But the flower was hard to find.”

“One night as the man was cleaning out his rabbit, he stopped when he noticed the rabbit had red petals lining the fur near its lips.”

“And so he cut the stomach to find it full of red petals, the same color as the flower he was so desperately trying to find.”

“The next day he went in search of rabbits with the same fur, and that night he was able to catch another one with the same petals in its stomach.”

“And so the old man followed the trail of rabbits until he one day, miraculously stumbled across a field full of the red flowers.”

“He was eager as he stuffed them in his satchel, memorizing the path he had taken as he passed by the old streams and lines of trees, his bad bursting at the seam with red relates and green stems.”

You stopped, tilting your head to the side as you gave out another yawn, oblivious to the fact that in the minutes you had spent thinking of more to tell, and in the hours you had spent explaining the complexity of the story to the king, the sun had begun peeking its way through the mountains. 

“So when he got back home, his daughter told him that she only had a couple of days left to live before the plague got to her,” You didn’t notice how the king had risen from his satin seat, walking slowly over to you as his impatience got the best of him. 

“And then?”

You whipped your head around at the sound, heart beating wildly in your chest at his unexpected voice. 

“He cut the flowers up and mixed them in with tea, and each day he’d double the amount of the flowers he would use,” Your bodies were close to each other, so close that despite his tall stance you could feel his breath hitting your cheek, his eyes following the rise and fall do your chest. 

“Did she not like the tea?” His voice was taunting and you shook your head, trying for the same menacing smile he was giving you. 

“No,” You moved away from him, your robes swaying behind you as his gaze traveled across your swift movements, “She loved it. Each day she’d ask for triple the number of flowers instead of double,” Your eyes were trained on the window that pointed to the east. 

“But,” You gnawed on your lip, “Ali didn’t realize that what he was doing was wrong,” You could hear him moving from behind you, his feet padded on the ground. 

“And why is that?”

Your eyes darted to the window, the way the sun amazingly shone through the stained glass and colored his snow hair a mix of blues and yellows, something that your somber mind never thought you’d see again. 

“The sun is coming up, my king,” You noted, your voice catching in the back of your throat as if you couldn’t believe what you were saying. It seemed that he too, couldn’t believe such a thing as he looked behind himself in doubt. 

The two of you said nothing as his eyes widened for a second, lips parted in a shock as he looked at you in relative incredulity. 

“My king…” You whispered, voice hoarse as you swallowed thickly, praying that your devious plan was working its way to the man, “What should I do?”

The king could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief, eyes narrowing as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as his kind ran with millions of thoughts about what he should do with you. 

Never had somebody stalled him for the entirety of the night, let alone made him want to know more about the woman before he had her ordered to be killed. And despite him deep down knowing that this would surely ruin everything he had done to barricade his lonely heart, he shook his head slowly, brows scrunched up in confusion as he admitted to himself that he wanted to know the rest of your story. 

“No,” He muttered out to himself, shaking his head as he glanced over at you, but it weighed heavily in the expanse of his room, “Come tonight and finish the story.”

And he didn’t need to say it to know that you had managed to get the king hooked. 

---

When the door creaked open with the maids once again lamentable at the fact that they’d be leading you to your death, they were surprised to still find your robes adjourning your shoulders, and the look of both dissatisfaction and something more lining the king's face.

They all stared at him, waiting for the same orders that would tumble out of his mouth every morning, but he just waved them aside, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered out a quiet, “I expect you to finish tonight,” Before he shrugged his coat back on as he stalked out of the room.

As he moved past the servants, all the ladies stared back at you, mouths hanging open in shock, their hearts pounding in their ears, mirroring yours as the old lady who had bathed you the night before took a tentative step into the bedroom. 

“Y/n…?” She asked slowly, testing to see how you would react, to see if he had done anything that could have broken both you and the cruel king to such a point, “Is everything alright?”

You stared at her, giving her a slow nod of your head as you couldn’t believe you were able to see the sun rising and hear the laughs of bewilderment that came from the servants behind the old lady.

“Did he say he wants to see her again?” One of the younger girls peeped up, and everyone snapped their heads over to her, the question everybody was wondering finally spoken out loud.

“I think he did,” One of the girls behind her answered, still not believing what they were hearing.

“What did you do?” Another one asked, testing gazes all focused on you, curious, begging to know just what you had done to break the streak of killings.

“I,” You sighed, rubbing your throat as you pushed some hair behind your ears, letting out a skeptical laugh, “I just told him a story.”

---

That night, they did the same thing as the previous one.

They stripped you down, this time a bit more gentle as they weren't much grime to scrub off, but still generous in the amount of fragrance they dabbed all over your body. 

“Tonight,” The old lady who you had come to learn was named Nasreen, muttered softly, quiet enough for only you to hear, “Draw out your stories. Make them more interesting than the last,” She whispered into your ear as she led you back towards the king's quarters, “I have never seen the king so,” She paused looking for the right word, “Forgiving as he was last night. You must have made an impact on him,” Her voice was laced with pride yet worried, “Don’t forget to make him more enthralled tonight than the last, alright?”

You merely nodded, tongue heavy in your mouth as you thought of all the stories you had come up with in the hours leading up to now, that in the hassle of the palace trying to get you prepared for the king you came up with the most fantastical stories you could think of. 

“Y/n,” She stopped you right behind the familiar door, “I wish you all the luck,” She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, scuffling away as the clock near midnight once again, fearful that if she stayed long enough she’d get too attached to you. And she had learned her lesson before.

Your eyes were trained on the door handle, hands filled with heavy lead as you raised them to the gold knob, giving it a slow twist as it opened easily into the freezing room.

It was dark, just as you remembered it being the previous night. The chilly air wrapped itself unwillingly across your frame, and with each heavy step, you took forward, the more dread-filled itself inside your head.

“Close the door,” His voice called out from the bundle of blankets and pillows that were laid out on the floor. You jumped when you noticed he had been there the entire time, shutting the wood quickly behind you as you shuffled inside.

“My king,” You gave him the customary bow, your heart pounding roughly in your ears as you heard some noise come from his side of the room, the ruffling of fabrics as he stood up, walking his distance towards you.

He said nothing as you lifted your head, his sapphirine eyes meeting yours as they stared boredly ahead, as if he could be more amused, and grunted, muttering something to himself as he walked away, picking up a date from the bowl as he pitted it and munched on it slowly.

“You seem displeased,” He noted, looking at your frigid body, “Are you not comfortable?” His white hair moved as he tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out why you seemed so reserved.

You chuckled a bit in surprise, not thinking him to be of the right mind to ask such a question.

“My king,” You started, thinking of the nicest way to phrase what you were going to say next, “Forgive my outward appearance but…” You laughed again, almost to yourself that he could even be confused, “I must admit, I have reason to be drawn away.”

He looked back at you, eyebrow cocked as your fingers picked at each other, your mouth brought in a thin line as you looked around the room, anywhere to escape his heavy gaze.

“If you are not comfortable standing,” He gestured to the space to his side, “There is ample room for you to reside as you finish your story,”

You swallowed thickly, thinking of what would happen if you agreed to his offer. Sitting next to him, in such proximity, could insinuate things that you were trying to hold off for as long as you could.

But your feet were already tired from standing for so long last night, and with the hecticness of the day that followed, you found your body disobeying your rational mind as it slowly brought you over to his residing area.

You could see his sly grin growing at your willingness to come over, and you watched as he moved his slender legs to the side, letting you almost break to the ground as you let out a small groan of pleasure at how soft the fabric lay beneath you.

His eyes widened slightly at the sound, his heart beating rapidly as your lids shut for a second, your face momentarily blissed out as you craved for such relaxation until they snapped back open, remembering just where you were.

“S-so,” You cleared your throat, moving away as far as you could as you rest your back on the wall, “If you so please, I can continue with the story of Aghā Ali.” You paused to see his reaction, and he gave a little nod of his head, allowing for you to continue.

“The flowers he had been told to get from the mountain were useless, and even worse, doing more damage than good. The apothecary who told him to find the flowers was a greedy man who had been in love with Ali’s wife, and now daughter, and could only see them as his own or as dead.” You peeked over to see what the king was doing and was somewhat surprised to see him staring back intently at you.

“In a jealous and insane rage, the apothecary had been poisoning the bread that Ali and his daughter ate, and despite all his best tries, Ali seemed immune to the lethal dosages he was receiving. So, in hopes of trying to get rid of him, he told Ali that the flowers found in the Zagros mountains would be the only cure,” He sat up, supporting his head in his hands as his eyes narrowed.

“Why not kill him?” He asked and you paused, licking your lips as you smiled, glad to have anticipated his question beforehand.

“Because killing Ali would mean that he would no longer be allowed to go to Jannah, and the apothecary was weary of the sins he committed.” His eyes shined a darker shade of blue at your statement. 

“Unfortunately for the apothecary, Ali was a bright man and could pick up on the flowers' dangerous properties. Ali was also aware of the apothecary’s jealous fit and quickly put the two and two together. So, instead of wasting time spending his rage on the apothecary, he decided to wait.” You crossed your ankles together, adjusting your robe as you shivered, the air still cold no matter how much you adjusted your shawl.

“To wait?” He interrupted, lips pursed and brows furrowed in confusion. You got worried that he was losing his interest in your story, but he sat up, his white hair falling as curls on his face, eyes still shimmering blue as he tilted his head, “He decided to wait?” 

His childish demeanor not only made you startled, but you could help but let your lips tug into a smile, and you tried to cover it up with a cough as you nodded.

“Ali was a very observant man. He could tell that whenever his daughter ate the bread, the sicker she got. So he waited, feeding her only bone broth and tea, without the flowers, of course,”

“And just as Ali had suspected after he stopped feeding her the bread and the flowers, she got healthier with each passing day. When the apothecary realized that Ali had once again won over his devious plan, he gave up,” You looked over to the jewel-encrusted knife, “And the apothecary slit his throat as a final testimony to his dying will.”

You could see how the king's eyes widened, his lips parting as he became even more confused. 

“That's it?” He interjected, “He dies?” Bile rose to your throat, terrified that you had only upset the king until you tried to calm yourself down, your plan steady in your head as you raised your hands in a gesture to calm him down.

“For that story, yes, my king, but I also happen to know another story that you might enjoy,” It was a sudden change, but you wanted him to forget who he was for a second, to look past everything so that you could continue.

You could see something happening behind his stoic gaze, how his eyes narrowed once again, trying to sniff out your ingenuity, but you offered him a tender smile, one that held more behind it than he could tell, and the king only sighed, laced with annoyance and anger because of your stranglehold on his curiosity, and he glanced out the window.

“Well, hurry on with it,” He muttered, falling back down as he picked up another date to chew on. 

And you grinned widely and didn’t care if he could see.

“My king, I doubt you’ve heard the story of the seven voyages of Sinbad…”

---

And so, the cycle continued.

You found yourself in his quarters night after night, evading death by ending on a cliffhanger that the king could only hear if he extended your death by one more day. Every night, you’d finish the story and start on another, prompting the king to a circle of never-ending stories.

The palace, stalked by your boldness to make the king enamored by your storytelling, began working like clockwork, giving you time to yourself to sleep during the day, as well as time to think up new and enticing stories the king may like.

You could tell he had a knack for adventures, and so you tried to make each one more exciting than the last. He was fond of poems of love and war, though he seemed to prefer stories of erotica more.

He was cruel, and even in the daytime, when you didn’t see much of him, you heard of his doings. While he seemed to be keen on not killing you until you run dry of things to tell, he still ruled with an iron fist, and the woes of the nation were only going unheard.

“Y/n,” The king interrupted you one night, pushing himself up by the elbows as he looked at you in your bundled-up corner, “What do you see?”

Your brows scrunched up in confusion at his question, and you squint to see what he was looking at.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I understand,” Your fingers fidgeted with one another as the king scoffed and he licked his teeth, weaving his hand through his hair as he motioned for you to come closer to him.

You slowly obliged, crawling over to where he was sitting as you gave yourself some space from his side.

You could notice his features more clearly here when the candle could illuminate his features better. His hair was arctic white, white than the snow that would litter the ground in the colder months. And his skin was pale and easily flushed red, almost as if the man refused to go outside in the summer. And his eyes, you could recall just how entranced they made you when you saw them at first. They seemed so hypnotizing, so surreal, that had this man not sent a chill through your bones, they might have put you under his charms spell.

“In the paintings, what do you see?” His eyes were trained on the wall, and you looked ahead, your mind reeling as you took in the different men and women painted in the photo, and what the artist could have meant when they drew it.

“I see…” You looked a bit longer, tilting your head to the right to get a better view, “A man being seduced by a woman,” You inspected the painting longer, “She seems like a witch of some sorts, maybe an enchantress,” You gnawed on your lip as you took in the background of the mural, “And she’s been able to lure him to his demise, judging by the red on her robes.”

You looked to the side to see what the king was thinking, only to him glancing at you, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you quickly looked away.

“I don’t see where you got the seducing aspect,” He admitted, and he shifted his weight onto his other hand.

Your brows furrowed at how he could miss such an obvious message. You raised your hand, pointing out to the woman as he followed the direction, “You see how her wrist is turned as she’s greeting him? Normally, you’d see people who try to romance one another have opening gestures, but she'd be more closed off and alluring. She dressed in red with minimal jewelry, which can mean that the man prefers somebody dressed down rather than inviting.” You explain and the king let out a small chuckle.

“You got all that from how her wrists were turned?” Your cheeks heated up once again as his eyes twinkle at your obvious embarrassment, and you looked away, shrugging as his smile only grew.

“Many of the artists I know explain the little details to me,” You muttered, “And you asked how I interpreted the piece. You got my answer,” He wanted to coo at the way your lips pouted, at how much less tense you seemed to be over time, and just how alluring you seemed to be when you childishly scooted away from him.

“You know artists?” He asked, perplexed by the outside life you shared and he knew little of it.

“Of course,” You nodded, “The bazaar is full of them. If I have time I walk around aimlessly, for the fun of it. You meet many interesting people where you’d least expect them,” You rubbed your nose, your eyelids growing heavier as the night continued.

“The bazaar,” He repeated to himself, and you glanced over to see him looking longingly at the painting, “I used to be quite the fanatic of the bustling streets.”

“You don’t go anymore?” You asked and he shook his head. Had he not been adorned in royal clothing and his title so glaringly obvious, you would have felt as though you were having a simple conversation with a friend, not the tyrant king everybody had come to fear.

“They’ve become a rather dark staple for me,” He admitted, “I can’t say I’m most eager to go back.”

You scoffed, your shoulder shoving his as his eyes widened in surprise by your out-of-character move.

“Everything has become a dark staple for you, my king. You cannot expect to outlive your past if everything you see reminds you of it,” Even sitting, he towered over you, and he had to crane his neck to stare at you in the eyes.

“There are some things I prefer to remember,” He gritted out, his lips turned into an unpleasant snarl as his eyes darkened, clouded by memories.

“I’m not saying you should forget, my king,” You toned your voice down in hopes of calming him down, “I’m saying that you move on.”

He scoffed, cheeks tinted a fiery red as he puffed his cheeks out, his stance now defensive as he turned his head away from you.

“What should you know?” He bit out, rolling his eyes at the thought of somebody like you understanding the utter betrayal he had gone through. The feeling of his heart being ripped apart piece by piece until everything in him stopped functioning because his entire world had come crumbling down.

“I don’t know,” You told him, your voice soft as if carrying itself to his fragile mind, “But heartbreak is an unstoppable force, my king, and you cannot stop it from ruining your state of being. But it’s better if you move on and be-”

“I can’t move on!” He instantly roared, his voice shaking as he whipped around towards you, his shadow great in size as it dwarfed you in its presence, “Can’t you see that?” His voice wobbled for a second, and in his shaking glare, you could see his eyes water, how they seemed to dim in their crystalline glow as his lips shook.

You raised a hand to his chest, gently pushing him back as he easily complied, and you sighed, pushing some hair out of your forehead as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Your wife is dead, my king. You had her killed. She cannot haunt you any more than in thoughts,” You could hear his sniffles, how he shook when he took in a breath.

“I can’t move on,” He repeated thickly, “It hurts so much,” 

“The pain is bare, my king,” You said slowly, “But what you have caused in its wake is destruction. You cannot think yourself to be healing in the act of death.”

You had feared you had said too much, but he only looked at you, hiccups leaving his mouth as his head fell onto your shoulder, and felt his tears wetly stain your robes.

“You don’t deserve this,” He said, “They didn’t deserve it,” He groaned into your coat as if realization was finally dawning on him.

“I’m sorry,” He wept out, and at this moment he was no longer a king, but a weak man who had his share of the world. He muttered it out over and over again until his cries and his apologies filled the air in the royal room.

You didn’t know who he was apologizing to. To you, to the women, he had killed, to himself, or to the man he killed when he began his endless cycle of murder.

“Satoru?” You tried for the first time, his name foreign on your tongue you felt his shaking stop, his wet lips breaths away from your skin that was revealed as he accidentally tugged on your robes.

“Stay,” He whispered into your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he moved around, shuffling so that he was off of your body, yet somehow he managed to bring you onto his lap, “I don’t care for a story,” He muttered as he looked up at you, “Sleep here tonight,” His large hands steadied themselves on your hips, gentle as you slowly nodded, his lips wet as they traced the skin near yours, soft and caring, a far cry from how you thought they’d be.

“But…” You were worried that he'd be tired of you by morning, realizing that you’re not what he bargained for, but the king shook his head, almost as if he could read your thoughts.

“I just want you to stay, nothing more,” He muttered against your skin, your fingers subconsciously rubbing his hair as he sighed contently at the feeling.

“Okay,” You muttered out, your lash fluttering against your cheek as you nodded, feeling his lips curl into a small smile as you relaxed into his hold, his arm doing all the work as they held you to his chest, cradling you to his body as if you were his only lifeline.

You knew that it was the king that was holding you as if you were his only support, that without you to hold at this moment he would sink into the floor below your bodies and disappear forever.

---

When morning came you felt a heavy arm wrap itself around your waist, and your eyes groggily opened as you felt little puffs of air hitting your neck, and you turned around to find the king fast asleep.

You moved away a bit, and felt his hand dip from your body, and didn’t see his eyes snap open to see you rising, your hair messed up, eyes groggy but still beautiful as he could only stare at the way the sun illuminated your soft skin.

“Mornin’,” He muttered, not used to waking up to a woman without feeling the ache of the night before, but the way you laughed softly at his tired state brought him back to reality.

“Good morning,” You replied, rubbing your eyes as you yawned, a gentle smile making its way up to your face as you watched him turn onto his back, his eyes still heavy from sleep as you giggled.

“I need some water,” You muttered and he cracked an eye open, getting ready to stand up until you pushed him back down, “I’ll be right back,” You corrected and he grumbled something out, blue eyes shutting anyways as sleep took a hold of the king once again.

You rubbed your eyes one last time before you stood up, groaning quietly as you stretched your legs, making note of the fact that you had never slept so comfortably before as you made your way to the door.

The hallways were lit with candles, and you quietly shut the door behind you as you tiptoed your way out, looking around to find two of the palace guards standing outside, already anticipating you from the way they instantly looked at your frame.

You had never seen them before, and while you were familiar with the guards that usually stood outside, these seemed more menacing than usual.

“Good morning,” You said sheepishly, trying to move past one of them when he blocked the way.

“Um,” You scratched your head, looking around to see if there was anybody familiar, “I’m sorry, but I need a pitcher of water for the king’s room if you’ll let me…” You went to outstep the guard but the second one now blocked your path.

You looked up at them in confusion, your lips pursed together as you laughed uncomfortably.

“May I leave, please?” You tried for another laugh, but their faces remained stoic.

You had never seen them before, and you doubted they knew you judging by the way their faces remained unchanged. Their swords were perched on their hips, and their gazes never altered.

“Come with us, miss,” The first guard said, his voice deep as he took a sudden grip on your elbow, rough as he pulled you away without letting you walk.

“W-wait, excuse me, I just need some water,'' You quickly explained but they said nothing as they led you down the hall, their face never changing as you tried to wrangle out of their tight grips.

“Sirs! Please!” They said nothing as you thrashed around, their hands only holding you with a more bruising force as you tried to break free, “I only need a pitcher, that’s all,” Your eyes were frantic, heart in your throat as you tried to think of anything you had done to warrant such behavior.

“They’re always so fuckin’ rowdy,” One of them muttered to the other, obvious displeasure on his face as his fingers tightened around your arm.

You tried to think of what he was referring to when your eyes widened in understanding.

“The king knows me!” You shouted, “He’s asked for me not to be killed!” You tried to explain but the guards only laughed, and you felt your chest fall as they led you down a passage you had never been through before.

“I’m Y/n!” you explained, but they had no idea who you were, “I’m a friend of the kings!” But you didn’t even know if the king would call you that. You told him stories to keep him entertained and you out of the execution chambers, but these guards snorted at your statement.

With their strength, they had practically lifted you off the ground, and no matter how much you kicked your legs and screamed for them to let you, they seemed intent on leading you to wherever you were headed.

A voice in the back of your head already knew where.

“Please!” You shouted, your eyes tearing up, “Ask the king, he knows me!” And one of the guards behind you decided that he had had enough of your shouting, and used his unused hand to slap it roughly over your mouth, muffling your screams.

Your breathing got shallower and rougher the more you tried to break free, and the darker the hallways got the more your body weakened, and you felt yourself grow limp in their holds as they stopped in front of an iron door.

One reached into his pockets as he brought out some keys, flipping through them until he found the right one. He jammed it in the hole and the door swung open, revealing the horror that you had guessed would be inside.

An array of gallows sat in the middle, the ground littered with dried blood as you screamed again.

“I-I’m his storyteller!” You explain hurriedly, but the guards don’t seem to mind as they bring you closer to the noose, “I tell the king stories!” That got one of the guards to laugh, and you whimpered as the noose came closer into view.

“Ask the king, p-please!” You cried out, tears wetting your eyes as your voice caught in the back of your throat, “I tell him stories! I’m a friend of his!”

It meant nothing to the guards as they heaved you up onto the wooden pedestal, grasping your hands behind your back as they tied it over and over with scratchy rope, their hands rough as they pushed you forward, wrapping some dirtied cloth around your mouth to silence your screams.

You felt your tears collect on the cloth, and you felt lightheaded as one of the men began securing the noose around your throat.

“Stand on the trapdoor,” One of the men gruffed out but you hurriedly shook your head, trying to tell them that you weren’t who they thought you to be.

Tired of your antics, the man shoved your forward, and you stumbled and your eyes widened as the noose tightened around your neck, your breath lodging itself in the little crevices of your lungs.

You watched as the men walked over to the front, their hands outstretched to pull the lever as they stopped when they heard a loud crash happen outside the door.

Three sets of eyes snapped to the iron working as it slammed open, revealing a panting king as he stared widely inside the room, wasting no time as guards poured in, the maids that usually came to collect you in the morning puffing out air as they sighed in relief, relieved to find you alive.

“What the fuck is happening?” Satoru shouted out, his eyes raging as he saw you atop the gallows, cheeks stained with tears, mouth covered, a noose around your neck as he felt his breathing momentarily stop, “Y/n?” His eyes widened in shock as he saw the noose around your neck, your cheeks glistening with tears as your screams were muffled.

His eyes snapped over to the two guards, their expressions comedic had they not been seconds away from killing you.

The king was quick in his movements as he rushed towards you, quick as he climbed the gallow, his slender fingers nimble as they worked the noose off of your neck, and then quick to tug down the tear-stained cloth that covered your mouth.

His eyes were feverish as they searched you, his hands on either side of your face as he checked for injuries.

“Are you,” His voice wavered for a second as you stared back up at him, both of your hearts pounding at the same pace as he tried to catch his breath, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

All of the guards and servants watched in fascination as their ruthless king fell apart, his hands shaking as you smiled gently, shaking your head no to his hurried question.

“I,” Your throat was hoarse, and you realized what had led to this mess in the first place, “I just want some water,” You sheepishly admitted to Gojo’s frantic stare, and could see his resolve crack as he gave you a quick laugh, cradling your head gently as he led you out of the execution chambers and back into the forgiving bright light of the hallways.

---

The following night, the servants were extra careful as they prepared you for the king.

Their hands were more forgiving as they scrubbed the dirt off of your body, and their fingers kind as they slathered lotion upon your neck. Their smiles were caring as they rubbed rose petals across your wrists, and their words were hushed as though not to disturb you.

They could tell without asking questions that you weren’t how you usually were and didn’t doubt that going back into the king's chambers would be more nerve-wracking than ever.

The robes they had dressed you in were softer than usual, and they kept it low with the fragrance as though not to give you a headache after everything you had gone through in the past couple of hours.

“Y/n,” Nasreen gently shook your shoulders to wake you out of your trance, “It’s time to go.”

And so you silently followed her on the familiar path to his room, your head heavy with pain as she knocked once, and then twice on the door.

It swung open after a couple of seconds to reveal the king in a disheveled state, his hair in disarray, eyes darker than usual as he seized you up, opening the door a bit wider so that you could come inside.

It shut quickly behind you, and you didn’t have time to turn around to say goodbye to the old lady before the king, Satoru, had led you inside.

The air was heavy as the two of you refused to look the other in the eye, unsaid guilt present in your stances as you went to open your mouth.

“My king, if you’d so wish, I can contin-” You didn’t have any time to prepare for the way his body threw itself at yours, a heavyweight pushing itself into your chest until you were roughly backed into the wall, his hand the only thing saving your head from bumping harshly into it.

His lips were hungry, ravenous, as they searched yours. They were agile and quick, not giving you time to breathe as his hand cradled your jaw, tilting your head ever so carefully so that he could gain better access to you.

You felt your tongues and teeth clash with one another, and despite your inexperience, you tried to match his quick pace. Any logical reasoning flew out of your head as his soft lips traveled upward, kissing your cheek, your forehead, and anything he could to remind himself that you were alive.

Your eyes opened as you felt him move downwards, his mouth hot against the column of your throat as he nipped at the skin gently, his teeth somehow gentle in their way as though not to hurt the fragile skin.

He’d press chaste kisses anywhere he could, his hands secure on your waist as the king looked up at you, and for the first time since your arrangement, you saw real fear in his sapphire eyes.

“Thought I lost’ya,” He muttered into your skin, his hands grasping onto the fabric of your robes as he tried to tug them off, “Thought I fuckin’ lost’ya forever,” His voice shook with raw emotion as your hands flew to his hair, bringing him back up as his hands worked at the knots that secured your robes together.

“It’s gonna,” You sighed as the cool hair hit your naked skin, your nipples pebbling up as your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, “It’ll take a lot more to get rid of me, my king,” You tired fo a joke but the words died down on your tongue as he latched onto one of your breasts, his hands occupying the other one as he kneaded it.

“Don’t joke about that,” He murmured against you, your nipples glistening with spit as he detached himself from you, “Don’t ever wanna think about it,” He whispered, and your eyes fluttered shut as his slender fingers worked their way down to tracing the skin on your stomach, and you almost sealed as they traveled down dangerously to the apex of your thighs.

He fell to his knees, a true sight to behold as his hair ruffled, your hands clawing into his white locks as you weakly held him in place.

His tongue was hot as it licked at your skin, slow as it neared the area where you were sure was burning up and wasted no time as he slid a finger past your folds, into the slickness of your cunt, and you groaned audibly at the feeling.

It was much different from your fingers, and he was skilled as he added another, your eyes and teeth clenching at the stretch.

“Yer doin’ fuckin’ amazin’,” He muttered in awe at the way you sucked him in, at how wet his fingers became from just a couple of seconds fingering you, “Yer so fuckin’ tight - shit - h-haven't you ever been…” And he trailed off when you looked away in embarrassment, and his lips parted in understanding as you covered your mouth to silence your whines.

“Oh darlin’,” He muttered, moving away from your pussy as he came back up, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as your eyes watched his every move, “Have you never been touched before?” And even he seemed to forget that he only wanted virgins, yet you could weakly nod, your skin flushing as he hungrily looked at it.

He’s going to ruin you.

“Well you’re just fuckin’ drippin’,” He said thickly, showing you his fingers as you looked away in embarrassment, but he quietly cooed, sleeping his fingers down your mouth, your eyes widening as you close your lips around them, brows furrowing at the odd taste.

“Sweet as shit, darlin’, better than any of the honey they’ve been rubbin’ on ya,” He muttered, his fingers working quickly as they went in and out quickly, his other thumb rubbing your clit as your eyes rolled back at the heavenly feeling.

“T-toru,” You whined thrashing around in his hold, “F-fuck it feels s-so good,” You hiccupped, your voice weak as you could rarely phrase things together. It was a far cry from how you usually wear, but the man was slowly tearing you apart.

His eyes widened in admiration at how sweetly his name rolled off your tongue, his ministration quickening in pace as he pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” He muttered against your skin, his fingers wet with your nectar as you cried into your hand, “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening at his relentless movements.

“Ugh, Toru, please,” You cried out, your fat tears rolling down your cheek as you couldn’t contain your wanton moans anymore, “Fa-faster!” You were begging, your fingers curling into his hair as he grinned at your unraveling.

More quickly than not, you felt your vision go white, the not snapping as your climax came, the sweet orgasm washing over you as you almost went limp. Had his arms not been supporting you up, you would have crumbled. You could feel yourself spasm around his fingers, but he was slow as he pulled them away, his tongue flushing outwards as he licked them tentatively, moaning at how sweet your essence was as it coated his mouth.

He watched as you went to pull your robes over your body, naively thinking you were done, but Satoru pushed your hands back, shaking his head as his smile menacingly grew.

“I’m not done yet sweetheart,” He moved up as he kissed your lips, your release flooding your taste buds as his spit mixed with yours, and you moaned into his mouth, not used to such a euphoric feeling, “Gods, Y/n, I’m just gettin’ started.”

---

You woke up to your legs aching and throat hoarse from more than just crying.

Your eyes were blinded momentarily by the sun, but you felt a heavyweight stern across your chest, and you looked down to see Satoru’s long arm covering your bare breasts.

Your cheeks heated up as flashes of last night came to you, and suddenly you could barely think straight, shuffling around so much that it woke the very king up.

He was slow as he tried to remember where he was, but a flash of your hair and your awkward smile made him grin charmingly, his arm tightening around your waist as he pulled you deeper into the warmth of his chest.

“Did I wake you?” You asked quietly into his skin, causing him to shiver as the way your shy hand reached up to hold onto his naked hips, to hold him as if he were a staple into your lifeline.

“I was already awake,” he muttered into your cheek, kissing at the mark he had made the previous night, “You’re a beauty when you sleep,” He admitted and you duke your head deeper into his chest at his words.

“My king,” You blinked, swallowing thickly as you looked up at him, terrified to find a monster but instead finding a devoted man, his eyes deep as they stared back down, caring as his lips pursed at the title.

“Satoru,” he muttered, “Don’t call me king,” His fingers played with your hair, his white hair wild as you giggled softly.

“Alright, Satoru,” Your nose nudged at his bicep, “I have a confession to make.” You saw him glance down at you in momentary worry but your eyes twinkle in a playful, childish manner, and he grinned right back.

“I have no more stories to tell you,” You whispered, “They’re all done.”

Satoru said nothing for a couple of minutes as his soft breathing filled the air around you two, and your heart stopped for a second before he let out a loud laugh, joyful and juvenile as his eyes crinkled, his ars pulling you deeper into his body if possible as he littered your face with kisses, hugging you as though you were going to whisk away at any moment.

Mikey has always had people that fought for him, even if he’s more than capable to do so himself. Being the leader of Bonten is no different with this, aside from the fact that now they’re a Yakuza level gang, which means they don’t indulge in silly fights. Not when Sanzu likes to use weapons so much, and Mikey lets him every time.

But, today he wanted to test something, he wants to see if he can still get the same adrenaline by fighting that he used to get when he was a child. That’s why he decided to fight a bunch of his members at the same time, with the condition that they could go all out on him without the threat of being kicked out of the gang. His executives couldn’t get into the fight either.

After getting punched and punching for a whole hour, Kakucho stopped the fight, not caring about the repercussions of going against his leader. Sanzu, worried too, helps Kakucho to stop the brawl their childish leader had initiated.

“Y’all are fired.” Mikey says with a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Walk.” Kakucho grunts, tired of being the only mature one.

Mikey stops in his tracks when a sweet smell gets into his nostrils. He closes his eyes and smiles.

“I wanna eat that. Now.” He says in his usual cold tone.

With the help of his members, he walks till he finds the bakery and without thinking twice he enters, forgetting he’s all bloody. The small number of people that were there jumped out of their seats and out of the small shop. After a couple seconds you come from the back.

He stops walking, watching you expressionless. Truth is, he’s starstruck, you were here all this time? Was this bakery here all the time? Did he miss the opportunity of seeing this angel because of his laziness and making Sanzu drive him everywhere? Oh damn.

“Two muffins and three chocolate chips to… go.” Your voice gets smaller when you see around and note that it is empty, you raise your eyebrows, already used to this. “And it happens again.”

“We’ll take the order.” Mikey says out of nowhere because fucking hell, the disappointment in your face is making him feel things.

You look at him with a smile and then your smile drops, he sighs, knowing that you’re about to tell him to get the hell out of your shop with his murderer and dirty hands.

“Oh my God! Sir? Sir you’re bleeding!” You run to him. Kakucho and Sanzu, knowing that it’s almost impossible for you to be a threat to their leader since you don’t even seem to know who he is, let you get closer. “Come! come! Let me clean you up!”

Mikey nods, letting you take his hand and drag him to a table in a corner, you run behind the counter and come back with a first aid kit, then you take a chair and sit in front of him, between his legs, close.

“Wait outside.” He murmurs and just like that, he’s alone with you.

“I-I… Did you got jumped? Did you see their faces? You want to call the police?” You murmur with a worried face and start to get the things to clean the blood. He smiles.

“Yes, I got jumped. Yes, I saw their faces. No, I can’t call the police.” He answers you and you nod. He doesn’t make any face or sounds when you start to rub alcohol on his cuts.

“Oh, you started it then?” You ask him. “You can alway not answer if you don’t—,”

“Yes, I started it.” He murmurs, and you nod again.

“But, still, fighting in a group with one person is not right.” You shake your head. You take his face in your hands and he closes his eyes, enjoying the touch. “Look at me and follow my finger, please.”

When he does and you check that he’s okay you stand up and go to the back of the shop again, when you come back you have a shirt in your hand. You look at your feet.

“Mhm, my shop hasn’t been open for that long but I made some shirts with the logo so my partner could wear them… we took different paths so I have some.” You explain to him. “I think this one would fit you. You can change in my office.”

He looks at you for a couple seconds before giving you a smirk. He takes the shirt and walks where you showed him. When he comes back, more decent now, you are behind the counter humming a melody while preparing several cups of coffee. He sits at one of the chairs and you slide him a plate with the muffins and the cookies from before.

“They’re still fresh.” You tell him and then point to two of the cups. “Those are for your friends that helped you come here, can you call them?”

“Sanzu!” He shouts, not too loud since he knows Sanzu is just behind the door. When the pink haired guy shows his face Mikey nods. “C’mere with Kakucho.”

“Here, gentlemen.” You say softly, giving each man their cup. They take it, surprised. “The house is inviting.”

“You really don’t know who we are, do you?” Sanzu smirks and Kakucho pinches his side.

“Let’s wait outside.” Kakucho mumbles and bows to you. “Thank you, miss.”

After they are outside you look at the man still sitting at one of your chairs.

“Uhm, are you like an important person or something? I feel kind of dumb for not being able to recognize you.” You confess to him but he just shakes his head while chuckling.

“It’s not an obligation to know who I am, he just can’t keep his mouth shut about us.” You nod. “Name’s Mikey, I’m the leader of Bonten.”

You look at him expressionless and all he could think of is how long would it take for you to throw at his face the coffee you’re holding.

“Bonten as in… the gang? The big dangerous gang?” You ask in disbelief and he just nods slowly. “Oh.”

He tilts his head to the side, waiting. Suddenly you shake your head softly and give him your hand to shake.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted at the news, name’s Y/N, nice to meet you, Mikey.” You say and he takes your hand and leans to kiss it.

“You’re not scared.” He says, a confirmation, not a question.

“I am, but I can’t stop thinking at the fact that I didn’t recognize you or your frien… they work for you, right?” He nods and you groan. “My God, I live under a rock.”

“You’re… like fresh air.” He says in a low tone and you smile.

“You’re here already, I can’t do anything about it.” You shrug and bend down to look for something on the bunch of desserts that were on display.

“Do you want me to get out?” He asks you, you hum in disapproval.

“No, why would I want that? At least you haven’t left my desserts there like it’s a plague.” He frowns at that.

“What do you mean?” He gets comfy on the chair, drinking the coffee you made for him. “I’m falling in love with everything I’m trying.”

“People tend to come and order something but then make a big scene, talking about me getting the order wrong, and I had no choice but to make the “right” order, I’ve been losing money.” You say. “And in the first week my ex came making some drama so right from the start I don’t have a good image for clients.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll work on that, yeah?” He gives you a small smile and you give him a big one. You give him your hand to shake again and he can’t help but to be pleased at the fact that apparently you like skinship.

“So, friends, Mikey?” You tell him happily.

“Call me Manjiro, and yes… friends.” For now he wants to say but doesn’t dare to do it.

A whole month has passed and he confirmed his suspicions long ago; you adore skinship, your love language must definitely be touching. After the day he met you, he comes every day to your shop and every single time you walk around the counter just to give him a friendly hug. At first, he was kind of stiff, not remembering what it felt like to be touched so genuinely, but later he couldn’t stop himself from surrounding you with his arms and tightening his grip softly.

After that day you’re happier, the reason? You have more clients!! What he doesn’t tell you? Those are his men, business partners, girlfriends of his men. He made sure everybody knew where you’re located.

“Come! Come!” You drag him to the back of the store. “You need to try this.”

“What is it, love?” He asks you in a relaxed tone.

“Red velvet cake, I have been learning how to make it but I’m not that confident to put it on display…” You say shyly, he hums while caressing your back.

You take some with a fork and feed him, he closes his eyes and groans.

“This is so good…” He tells you and you jump excitedly.

“Yaay! Finally I got it right!” You were doing a happy dance while he was watching you with a love-drunk face.

“I like you.” He says out of nowhere and you stop dancing. You laugh.

“I know.” You whisper when he puts a hand on your waist and pulls you to his chest. You put your hands flat on his chest. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Oh?” He mocks with a small smile and you giggle, letting your forehead touch his chest. “That’s easy, I’m going to—,”

A commotion interrupts him, but he is not mad. All he needed was to know that his feelings were reciprocated.

When you both get to the front your ex is on his knees in the middle of your shop, with Ran behind him, all dressed up in his expensive suit and a baton on his hand.

“Y-Y/N? W-What is this?” Your ex asks when he sees you, but you’re looking at Ran.

“Ran… Are you okay?” You ask, worried and Mikey behind you is smiling like he won the lottery, a stranger is on the floor with blood on his head and you’re asking Ran if he’s okay?

“Oh, yes, yes, of course I am, princess.” Ran smiles at you. “This… stranger tried to spray the windows but got caught by me and my brother when we were getting here to try your new cake.”

You look at the ceiling and then turn around to hide on Mikey’s chest, his hands instantly surrounding you.

“That’s my ex.” You whisper softly to Mikey.

“That’s her ex.” Mikey says out loud without missing a beat.

Rindou stands up from the chair he was comfortably sitting on.

“Who the fuck raised you?” Rindou asks, crouching in front of the man and slapping him. “Uh? Who do you think you are to try to destroy what took her so long to build? Mhm?”

“I’m–I’m sorry! Please please don’t kill me! Y/N! Y/N!” The man cries.

You look at Mikey and he smiles at you, he kisses your forehead softly.

“I’m not gonna do that, just letting the boys scare him a little bit so he stops bothering you, yeah?” You nod.

And then Sanzu enters the shop, he frowns.

“What is this? We agreed no violence in her shop?” He asks, confused. Ran looks like a little kid who won the biggest bag of candies.

“This is her ex, he was trying to spray the windows before getting stopped by me and Rindou.” Sanzu cracks his neck and smiles.

“Bring him outside.”

You watch in silence how Ran drags the man outside and then you look at Mikey, he looks like he wants to laugh.

“I… mhm, I’ll go with them, otherwise Sanzu’s definitely gonna kill him.” He chuckles at the horror in your face and leans to kiss your nose. “I told you that’s not gonna happen. They don’t make decisions by themselves, ‘Kay?”

“You promise?”

“I promise, baby.” He nods.

When he goes outside and to the alleyway, the trio are having the time of their life by kicking the man on the floor, when he gets closer they stop. Without saying a word he takes the gun from Sanzu’s pants and puts it in the guy’s face, right in the middle of his eyebrows.

“Let all this serve as a teaching, yeah buddy?” Mikey says in a cold tone. “Next fucking time I see you in the same place my woman is, these guys are gonna be the least of your problems, you understand?”

“Y-yes sir, i-i u-understand.” He cries.

He gave Sanzu his gun back, turned around and started to walk again.

“Don’t keep beating him. She doesn’t want him past-recovery. Just call him a taxi.” Mikey murmurs before entering the shop again.

When he doesn’t see you in the front he looks at some of his men that are still sitting there and they point to the back. When he gets there you’re sitting on the desk playing with your fingers in silence.

“I’m back.” He says in a soft tone.

He sits on the chair and pulls you on his lap, your legs at each side of his, he surrounds you with his arms.

“You okay?” He whispers and you nod. “You’re not talking to me, pretty.”

“I’m disappointed.” You whisper and he tenses up.

“In me?” You shake your head. “The guys?”

“My ex. Why? Why does he keep doing that? That time I told you about, he threw mud at the windows while there were clients inside.” Your voice breaks slightly and he moves around to distract you.

“That’s over, let's not go over there. We already talked and he promised me he’s not gonna bother you anymore. You’re okay.” He tells you and you sigh.

“Did you threaten him?”

“Yes.”

“Okay...”

“Do you want to know what I was about to say before we were interrupted?” He says with a smile to try to distract you and you nod, looking at him now.

“Yes, please.”

“Mhm… I was saying that it’s easy, I’m going to take you on a date, on multiple dates, and then I’ll ask you an important question that we kind of know the answer to but I wanna hear you say it anyways.” He smirks at your smile. “And then I’m gonna request something for you to do on some days.”

“What’s that?” You say softly.

“To touch me.” He whispers, now serious. You look at him and he tightens his grip on your hips softly. “Touch me, please.”

“B-But why…” You ask, while still doing what he asked you.

You start to touch his hair, scratching his scalp, then caress his face, you lean and kiss his forehead, his nose, his cheeks. He let out a shaky breath when you kiss his lips briefly.

“This was your request?” You whisper.

“Y-yes.”

“And you want this on some days?” You ask again.

“Yes, please.”

“I don’t.” He looks at you with surprise but you’re smiling. “Everyday or nothing. Every time you come to the shop or nothing.”

He sighs and bites his lip to try to contain his emotions, he hugs you again. Sweet Jesus, you’re going to kill him with your cuteness.

“Yes, yes, yes.” He whispers repeatedly. “Touch me as much as you can, please.”