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    Summary

    Your ranch is small and clean and alive—soft edges and sunlight and the smell of apples drifting out through the window. Wind chimes sway lazily from the eaves, catching the breeze. There’s a lace curtain drawn half-open in your kitchen window, and the faint clink of dishes carries out into the afternoon.

    It's all so pretty.

    Toji isn't pretty. He's six foot three of killer instinct and calloused hands from slinging pistols and bare fisted brawls. Scars litter his skin, winding over his arms, his stomach, even his legs like ivy, each bullet mark long healed but never truly fading. A testament to the kind of man he is; the kind that shouldn't be on your front step on a golden afternoon.

    But he's so fucking tired.

    Toji comes back to you on an afternoon washed with honey dewed sunlight and the smell of apples in the air, rugged and tired, only letting himself crumble when its in your arms.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    5,916
    Chapters:
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