A Munto Fanfiction: Love Knot © RedWingedAngel002
Disclaimer: Munto; Sora Miageru Shōjo no Hitomi ni Utsuru Sekai © Kyoto Animation; Yoshiji Kigami and Tomoe Aratani
Genre: Romance
Summary: The fifteen-year-old was patient in his learning process, even if the task was redone on each end, and gave encouraging words. One-shot; MxY.

A/N: Just a little something, while the inspiration struck.

Songs: I Wasn't Prepared by: Eisley

Japanese Index:
None.

"Talking."
'Thinking.'
Memories/Flashbacks.

One-Shot: Tangled

Quietly, his boots tapered to a stop and he observed, softness capturing Munto's expression, as golden eyes trailed upon her reflection across the marbled room. She had not noted his presence until the door clicked closed. Flaxen locks stirred in her twirl, eager to capture their gaze, and a smile formed when she resumed her grooming ministrations.

From behind, he gently took the brush out from her grasp and trained the knots to obey, tugging with muttered apologies. Soon, her lashes fluttered closed from the hypnotic motion and relaxed to his touch. Experimenting with a passing thought, he leaned forward to the vanity and comb at hand; Munto pecked the girl's cheek.

"No sleeping, my Little Dreamer, we have a big day ahead."

Green arose with a light irritate pursing her lips. "I'm not sleeping."

He merely chuckled at the remark and parted the soft fibers on her scalp, cascading downward. Pushing the right half over her bare shoulder, deft fingers kept his instruments afloat with crimson magic, and cut the strands in three. Pausing, the king went through the reeling memories of his cherished person on how to answer the predicament.

"Take one of the sides and cross it over to the middle," she caught on. Once done as instructed, Yumemi continued, "That was the right side, yeah? Now take the left and do the same. A little tighter so it won't come loose."

It was simple to comply once the method was understood. Encasing the forming rope with the offered elastic, Munto did the same. Peering at his work within the mirror, a pout emerged, dissatisfied with the sloppy appearance, and he tried once more. The fifteen-year-old was patient in his learning process, even if the task was redone on each end, and gave encouraging words.

A third try and with moderate taste, he gave a pat on her shoulders, concluding his efforts. Delicately she brought the ropes affront, which spilled down her green silken lap.

Tipping her jaw back, a smile shown. "Good job."

Warmth arose his beating chest, which he huffed away a constant desire, and took the opportunity to kiss her exposed nape. He was earned a surprised squeal and fit of giggles.

The arm wrapped around her was tugged. "Your turn!" and laughed once more when flabbergast struck. However reluctant, for a head full of braids did not seem appealing as imagined, he gave her his trust as they switched positions.

"Prepare yourself," he warned, "you will need to pull."

"Okay." She eagerly ran her fingers through his mane and he would not admit how much he enjoyed it. "How soft…"

Warmth crept up his neck and she noticed. Her own look of surprised was wiped clean and she buried with muffled laughter, which, much to his displeasure, had him redden tenfold.

"You're so cute."

He growled, self-aware of his own lack of usual grace. "Shut up."

And so she worked through the knots he battled himself that morning prior, determination weaving through her knit brow, until red glided like silk. He understood, now, why she had dozed off, for having another simply brush had lulled him so.

"There…" she woke him with a light scratch at the spot behind his jaw and ear and it caused him to shiver.

Eyes of bullion opened to reveal his father, of all images, and it had him startled momentarily. He watched in blinking wonder for such simple a notion of combing his hair back could reveal his kin's blood, as she crept to his height and nuzzled into his shoulder. Her hand rested on his beating heart and Munto gave into her offer.

"Thank you."

A/N: Because Yumemi would look cute with pigtail braids, and there's nothing like a blushing Munto. =w=

—Ari [12.6.15]