#market place coop

[inherdaze]

jungle — kiyoomi sakusa

kiyoomi x f reader

18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy

9k

summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.

There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over. 

Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat. 

“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”

 You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”

“The Sakusa family?”

“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.

“He’s coming home.”

“From the war?”

 “Yes.” 

“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.” 

She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely. 

She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.” 

“Why? For dinner?”

“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”

You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”

“We’ve been exchanging letters.”

Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death. 

She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”

You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed. 

“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?” 

You hum and nod. “Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“When will he be here?”

Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.

“Tomorrow.”

You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs. 

The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky. 

As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.

You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.

“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.

You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.

Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.

The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market. 

“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.” 

“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”

She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.” 

She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around. 

You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times. 

You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor? 

Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.

You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.

When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent. 

Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—

“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.

“Hi… hi.”

He stares at you blankly.

“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back. 

“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there��� right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”

“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.” 

“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you. 

He doesn't. 

As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there. 

You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.

You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind. 

Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived. 

You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived. 

She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you. 

“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”

Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens. 

“My apologies, miss.”

The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think. 

His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”

He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions. 

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides. 

“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”

She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup. 

The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter. 

The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well. 

You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already. 

To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things. 

Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”

By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.” 

You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second. 

Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder. 

Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you. 

“How are the vegetables doing?”

“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward. 

You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven). 

You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.” 

Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.” 

The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home. 

The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.

You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass. 

Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold! 

After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you. 

“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.

Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants. 

You drop the bucket.

“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”

You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.

You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.” 

It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic. 

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.

“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.” 

You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him. 

“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.

He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.

He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too. 

The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine. 

“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves. 

“I’ve already forgiven you.” 

“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”

He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated. 

“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.” 

He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.

You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.

Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that). 

He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning. 

When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless. 

You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has. 

There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do). 

The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead. 

In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away. 

Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.

“Talk to them,” You encourage. 

He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”

“Ask them how they are.” 

Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.” 

You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”

He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.

When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.

You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help. 

“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.” 

“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.” 

“How so?”

He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside. 

When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you. 

“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.” 

Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively. 

“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi. 

He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.” 

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.” 

The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response. 

After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean. 

Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright. 

“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion. 

“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.” 

He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.” 

You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue. 

Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.” 

He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter. 

“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.” 

That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts. 

“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.” 

You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay. 

Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.” 

It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out. 

You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.” 

The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed. 

You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way. 

He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on. 

You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love. 

You peer down into the pot. 

“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.” 

He bites his cheek at your dramatics.

You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way. 

He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.” 

You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again. 

He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste. 

When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own. 

Your fingers twitch. 

“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.” 

You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes. 

You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut. 

You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—

“I’ve arrived early!”

The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor. 

“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen. 

She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.

“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.” 

He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.

“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”

At that, a smile slips onto your face. 

“Yes. Cook with love.”

When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love. 

You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share. 

The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable. 

Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.

You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you. 

“Let me help.”

Your cheeks burn. 

He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?” 

It’s a little loose. 

“Tighter, please.”

He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching. 

“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure. 

It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you). 

You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one. 

The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space. 

On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand. 

You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door. 

You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him. 

The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs. 

Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers. 

“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.” 

“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you. 

“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay). 

“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?” 

“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.” 

Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush. 

Finally, he fesses up. 

“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.” 

You see Kiyoomi make a face. 

“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.” 

“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens. 

“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?” 

The both of you choke. 

You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening. 

“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”

“Don’t be like that, Omi.”

“Miya.”

“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”

“You are unbearable.”

Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated. 

“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.” 

You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes. 

After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way. 

When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.

You only hum in response. 

Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around. 

You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe. 

As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around. 

You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward. 

“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole. 

“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi. 

“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.

Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—” 

“Miya.” 

“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.” 

He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush. 

Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you. 

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side. 

In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.

“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.” 

He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly. 

“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left. 

“Miya told me to confess to you.” 

Your blood runs cold. Confess…? 

Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it. 

You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room. 

When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day. 

He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously. 

“I wish you could come with me.” 

You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile. 

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say. 

“Goodnight, angel.” 

Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does). 

The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done. 

As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it. 

(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).

Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.

One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy. 

The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door. 

Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige. 

You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely. 

When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.

“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.” 

And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you. 

“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb. 

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day. 

The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in. 

“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.” 

His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.” 

Your mouth drops open. 

Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.

Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.” 

You stay rooted still. 

“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.  

He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.” 

It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together. 

(He wants to). 

It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt. 

“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”

He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth. 

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him. 

It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please. 

Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear. 

He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.

His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name. 

He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in. 

“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”

Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!” 

He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.” 

You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll. 

You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you. 

Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly. 

“I love you, Kiyoomi.” 

He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you. 

In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!” 

“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.” 

You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes. 

“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?” 

You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again. 

“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.” 

He gives an approving cluck. 

You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand. 

“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe. 

“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around. 

“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock. 

“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.” 

“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”

“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately. 

“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips. 

“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?” 

You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.” 

“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.” 

You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love. 

Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.

As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you. 

“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.” 

You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip. 

“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”

“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!” 

“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!” 

“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—” 

The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own. 

Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.

[joelsbloodyhands]

MANDALORIAN IMAGINE

Din gets jealous when you cuddle an ewok

WARNINGS: None just Din being a jealous tin-man 😌 however if you don’t like cuddling, this is not the fic for you.

A/N: Let’s be honest, how can you not want to cuddle an Ewok? Also, there’s no way in hell Din would ACTUALLY just let you pull him up to a treehouse. That man would have you thrown over his shoulder so quick- (I need to stop before I re-write this fic) 😫 also I should mention Din probably knows what ewoks are but for the sake of this fic and my sanity, let’s all pretend he has no clue (since it wouldn’t be a surprise anyway considering how he barely understands what a Jedi is) 🤭

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader is in an established romantic relationship with Din. Reader has parent relationship with Grogu (no gendered title used). Reader does not have a visible disability.

“I can’t fathom why you’re terrified of Porgs and not of Ewoks,” Din sighs as you laugh excitedly at the fluffy creatures bringing you random stormtrooper helmets that look like they’ve seen better days. “That was one time!” You huff, eyebrows narrowing at him as you stick a tongue out towards him. He chuckles as he watches you murmur thank you’s to the waddling balls of fur. “Yet it seems to happen every time we encounter them,” he mumbles amusingly causing you to shush him.

You had landed on Endor, finding refuge in the lush forests, surprisingly cool on this sunny planet. It hadn’t meant to happen. Encountering pirates on the way to Batuu, the ship was damaged and thus you landed safely onto the green planet unscathed. It had meant to be a quick stop until you had alerted Din to the sighting of something “small, round and fluffy” lurking around the ramp.

Din had been quick to try to deter you, his hand on his blaster as you approached the small bundle of fur, raising a sharp spear your way until you offered it the same blue cookies Din often tried to persuade you not to buy Grogu every time you went to a market. Though much to his surprise, the small creature with large eyes, snatched the snack and gobbled it right up quite happily mumbling some unintelligible language Din couldn’t make sense of and nor could you for that matter, still taking its offering hand and letting it pull you into the forest with Din at your heels and a laughing Grogu in his satchel.

Din had protested the short journey to a cluster of high tree houses, spiralling up into the great trees. The little creature had beckoned you up a wooden set of stairs. Din had taken your wrist, looking up at you from the bottom of the steps and could you see his face, you knew he’d be pouting unhappily.

“Please, mesh’la. Come back to the ship. We don’t know these creatures.”

You had understood his concern of course but part of you yearned for a detour. An adventure. You had both been travelling to and from planets, often with Din disappearing for days on end to collect bounties for credits while you babied Grogu and took care of the ship in his absence. Part of you felt too cooped up in the ship, almost selfishly thanking the maker for causing it to go to disarray and landing you somewhere new.

The small creature babbled up to you as Din’s fingers travelled to yours, intertwining your fingers and gently tugging. You looked back to him, “it’s getting dark, Din. We should spent the night at least.”

He sighed as he watched you turn back and with great difficulty tried to communicate to this brown fluff ball if they could give you some place to rest. Din meanwhile looked down at your son, his big eyes blinking up at his buir with intrigue towards his parents new friend. Din shrugged at him in response as the small boys eyes found the back of your head again cooeing.

The bug-eyed creature had brought the both of you to an empty treehouse, one a lot smaller than the others surrounding the area above. It chattered away in a language neither of you understood but it seemed to quickly learn that it was better to show you with gestures than with words. You had thanked the critter by giving it the rest of the cookies from your bag and offered up a parcel of bantha meat to cook that Din had realised you must have snatched from the pantry on the way off the ship. He smiles underneath his helmet, you were always prepared to take care of everyone.

That’s what he loved most about you.

“What do you think, Din?” You had asked, breaking through his thoughts as he lifted his head to watch you take off your jacket. The small creature had taken the parcel quite happily, waddling excitedly with it out of the house.

“Just one night, cya’rika,” he gently asserted, watching you pout but nod understandably.

“Okay but you have to admit this is pretty neat,” you open your arms twirling on one spot, your eyes looking up towards the top of the house.

A staircase ran around the outside walls, circling to what appeared to be an open topped roof with a balcony. A small table sat in the centre of the room, carved intricately out of wood with what appeared to be a couple of woven moss pillows on either side. Some woven sleeping mats and fur blankets folded neatly in the corner. A fire lantern hung from the staircase and the glow of a fire from outside the hut cast light through the doorway.

Din had to hand it to the creatures, they were rather skilled considering how dopey they looked.

He turned his attention back to you, watching you now pull out two mats and lay them side by side before folding up blankets and placing them down as pillows, setting up your sleeping space. Grogu babbled up at Din who mindlessly lifted his son out of his satchel, watching him scurry off to you, a small hand taking hold of your sleeve as he watched you get everything prepared.

Din wandered off towards the table, removing his weaponry and gear. As he removed some of his armor; opting to keep his chest piece on (just in case), you stood contentedly brushing off your thighs as you overlooked your sleeping arrangements with the small child now gripping your trouser cuff, big brown eyes following your movements. “There,” you clasped your hands together, looking at your son with delight who cooed almost understandably at your cheeriness. “Are you hungry, ad’ika?” The boy cried out happily at the mention of food while Din tried to control his exceeding heart rate that fluttered whenever you spoke in his native language.

It wasn’t your first language.

You had picked up the odd phrase here and there, asking Din to teach you the proper pronunciation. He did so with ease, not really thinking you would adapt or desire to even use it. Safe to say, he was surprised the first time you used the word ad’ika to describe Grogu when singing him to sleep one night. Then his legs nearly gave out under him, the first time he heard your sweet voice call him riduur.

He hadn’t taught you that one.

So the question was; who did teach you?

“Bo told me it means partner,” you had admitted, nervously rocking on your heels at his stuttering reaction. “Did I say it wrong?” You blushed, your lips trembling and eyes watering, worried you may have offended him. Din stepped towards you before stopping himself. If he got any closer, he didn’t know what he’d do but he knew for sure, he wouldn’t want to stop once he started.

“No, cya’rika. Your pronunciation was perfect but-“

“But?” You had interjected, your eyes now on your feet. Din could only recognise the expression as though you were waiting for rejection and that was something Din was absolutely NOT going to do.

“Cya’rika?” You lifted your gaze to his visor, “Riduur means a lot more than partner. Bo told you that, right?”

You frowned in confusion and your body shook anxiously as you stumbled to explain, “Well, she corrected me because I called you my boyfriend and she said the proper word for us- I mean, for you and what you mean to me…that word would be riduur.”

Din fell silent.

Bo you fiend, he mentally tsked.

“It doesn’t mean boyfriend, mesh’la,” Din found himself saying, thinking it would probably be best to rip the bandage off and let you know now to help you realise that you would want to stop using it.

“Oh?” You narrowed your eyes in surprise and he could see the cogs working your brain about why your friend would say that to you.

“Um, it means- well, riduur is- it’s, you’re calling me your husband.”

Your eyes widened and Din had thought he knew how red your face could get but right now your cheeks were as bright as the lava fields of Mustafar.

“It means- I…I called you my husband?” You clarified, your heart pounding erratically.

Din walked to you then silently and your eyes followed his visor until he was stood so close, your head tilted back to meet his gaze. He ran his eyes over your features, noticing that you seemed almost afraid. Not of what he would do. He knew that but afraid that you had upset him.

“You don’t have to stop,” he murmured, a light breath leaving your lips.

“What?” You implored and Din could see the way your body reacted. His eyes on your thighs tensing and the way the knuckles in your hands stiffened, your tongue peeking out to wet your lips.

“You can call me your riduur,” he tilted his head, awaiting your reaction but your cheeks merely bloomed even more crimson than before.

“Ner riduur?”

Din smiled. Your voice interrupting the memory as he met your eyes, now kneeling before him with a small clay bowl of cooked meat and an array of greens.

“Are you hungry? Our friends have cooked the meat and we’re sharing it out. They seem quite pleased. This is for you,” You offered the bowl to him. Din tugged his glove off his hand, taking the bowl with his fingers grazing your warm ones.

“Thank you, cya’rika. I’m glad to hear you’re getting along well with them,” he watches as you beamed happily at his words.

“They seem docile,” you appraised, eyes on the doorway with a finger swiping your chin thoughtfully. “Although I believe them to be perhaps territorial when threatened. They would make for useful allies.”

Din grinned under his helmet.

This was just like you. You find the good in everyone.

“However,” you began and Din’s smile immediately slipped.

“However?” He urged as your brows narrowed.

You laughed, “I did have to sternly inform them that Grogu is our son and not food.” You stood, turning from him while Din scrambled with his words.

“Ner riduur, I don’t like the sound of this. We should leave-“

“Gotcha,” you turned swiftly on your way out the door, winking at him as he let out a heavy sigh. His heart momentarily starting back up again.

“That wasn’t funny,” he poked at the meat with the wooden spork.

You giggled, “I had to say something to get you to lighten up. Grogu is fine. In fact, he’s more than fine. They actually seem to be steering out of his way. He’d used the force earlier to get more meat for his plate. I had to scold him. Not the ewoks.”

“Ewoks?” Din’s shoulders lifted interestedly.

“Yes,” you nodded, “that’s what they are called. The creatures. The Ewok species. One of them had an old book with a description of this planet and the inhabitants.”

“Interesting,” Din looked to the doorway, listening to the small sounds of cheering and clashing of dishes.

He turns back and meets your smile, immediately growing self-conscious at the way you’re staring at him. You giggle when his visor darts down to the bowl and wander towards the doorway, hovering a moment with your hand against the small weaved shutter.

“Enjoy, ner riduur, I’ll make sure our son doesn’t eat too much,” you wink and Din hums lightly under his breath, feeling the overwhelming need to clear his throat when his face grows hotter at your intense eyes.

He hears you giggling again when you shut the door behind you, ensuring his privacy to remove his helmet as he eats.

He doesn’t feel alone as he does though.

Distantly, he can hear the babble of foreign voices and your laughter as well as Grogu’s whines for very likely something more to eat. Din takes his time, eating and surveying your conversation from afar. Something he takes great pleasure in.

A few minutes later, Din stands, his mouth dry from his meal, deciding to venture to find if these creatures have anything to wash their local veggies down with.

He abandons his bowl and the hut, following the light sounds of laughter and foreign voices. In front of one of the treehouses above, Din watches the gathering of Ewoks dancing while playing music. While intrigued by their customs, a flash of green appearing in his peripheral catches his attention and he swiftly turns his visor downward to find his son waddling towards him from out of a nearby hut a lot smaller than the others.

Din bends down, picking Grogu up when he reaches for him.

His son babbles to him in a mumble of incoherent words and mando’a.

“Where is your parent?” Din says. His visor flashes up towards the party above again but you don’t appear to be among them. If you were, Din was pretty sure you’d be prancing around happily like the rest of them.

Grogu babbles again, more increasingly and Din catches the words for “in there” translated from Mando’a. His head turning towards the hue of amber glow emitting from the small hut, shadows dancing from inside.

Din walks toward the door but stops almost instantly before his boots can cross the threshold.

He’s still when he sees you.

Your back to him, crouched down, he watches as you offer your hands to a darkened corner, murmuring soft reassuring words.

Din’s heart paces.

He’s not sure what you’re talking to but nevertheless it has him concerned when his hand lowers to the blaster at his thigh.

Though just as quick as he could hover his hand above it, your hands take the smaller furry ones pulling the shaky ewok from the confines of its comfort bubble. “It’s okay,” you murmur, “see? You are safe.” Din’s heart warms, his hand relaxing at his side. “We are no threat to you,” you whisper and Din goes to turn, a smile on his lips at your tenderness towards these creatures until he sees the way you wrap your arms around the small thing.

He freezes.

You lift it up into your arms, it’s little legs hanging loosely at your side as you clutch it tightly in your embrace, swaying side to side and rubbing your cheek affectionately against its head with a small giggle.

Din’s heart races so fast, he’s afraid the sound of his pulse is echoing through his helmet from his temples.

What in the maker-

The sound of Grogu blowing a loud raspberry fills the silence.

Din steps back suddenly just as your head snaps in his direction at the door. His feet already carrying him as quietly as possible back to your treehouse, patting a jealous Grogu and repeatedly shushing him as he protests in speedy babbles.

A few minutes later and after some pacing, Din ultimately resolved to putting his still babbling son to bed while thinking, if the little womp rat could coherently speak in more mando’a, he was most likely mocking him for running away at the sight of you.

Once Grogu was tucked in and secure, (there was no other balcony from the second floor, just an arched window), Din stomps back down the wooden steps, removing his chest piece and gloves. These small creatures may run in packs but if they were trouble, Din was more than sure he could handle them unarmed.

Once slumped against the tree bark, his ears honing for Grogu’s steady breaths and satisfied with the gentle sound, he lets his eyes fall closed a moment until the growing thud of boots flashes them open again.

You still at the door frame, taking in the relaxed fold of Din’s body in the corner of the room, your eyes frowning between the sleep space you had set up and his position.

When you notice the slight tilt of his head, you put your hands on your hips.

He’s watching you.

He’s awake.

“What?” You inquire, your eyes taking in the silent Mandalorian in front of you. His body stretched out lazily, arm folded against his chest with his back braced against the bark of the treehouse.

Din doesn’t respond.

He’s still fighting the need to shift his body, the discomfort setting in at how hot his face is getting under his helmet. The words burning at the tip of his tongue not quite ready to release. He sighs and you roll your eyes in response, your tired body carrying you up to the second floor to check on your sleeping child.

Leaving the grumpy metal man to his thoughts, Din tries to ignore his desires for you, attempting to drift off to rest but getting a constant flash of the image of you cuddling the Ewok tightly in your arms. Din groans mentally at the sight of your cheek pressed against the top of its furry head, a smile stretched across your face pleasantly. You smooth your fingers through its fur and sway gently from side to side.

Din had yet to hold you like that.

Or hold you in anyway at all.

He had only recently admitted to his feelings and doing so in a rather reserved manner. The closest he’d gotten to touching you was holding your hand. It hadn’t progressed any further since. He wanted to wait until you instigated any physical touch but when you hadn’t, Din just assumed it was unwanted on your part. So he feared the idea of trying to touch you even with your consent.

Did you really want him to? He’d never actually asked. Should he ask? Would you reject him?

He’s not fluffy and his beskar is far from soft but his body can be quite warm after spending most of the day under clothing and armor.

“Din?” Your voice called out in the night.

Oh kriff.

His thoughts had carried themselves to his bed.

The both of you now laying side by side.

A small space between your sleep mats preventing him from feeling your warmth.

“Yes cya’rika?”

Din had watched with stiff hands as you walked back into the hut earlier completely unaware of what he had witnessed. You’d probably think him completely stupid for making such a big deal out of the whole thing. I mean really? Din was older than you and yet he was being completely childish.

Was he really jealous about seeing you hold another creature in a way you had yet to touch him?

“Why are you so quiet?” You questioned.

“Are we not sleeping?” Din replied, matter-of-fact.

But his question left room for an answer and he gets it when he hears you roll over, propping an arm up and looking at his back.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since I came back to rest. What’s wrong?” He feels your eyes burning a hole through his helmet if it were even possible.

“Is it so unusual for me to be quiet, mesh’la? You always said I was deadly silent.” He chuckles, trying to make light while his insides flutter dangerously.

You hum, “This is true but I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Din shudders and he’s thankful you can’t see the movement through his padded suit.

“Everything is fine,” he speaks.

“Why do you lie?” You’re sitting up completely now, cross legged and he can picture your arms over your chest.

“Cya’rika,” he turns back around and sure enough there you are, eyebrows furrowed, arms folded facing him. “I do not lie.”

You exhale, “Din Djarin.”

When you’re using his full name, it’s never a good thing.

“Do you remember when you told me to always share our feelings with one another?”

He sighs. “Yes, I remem-“

“Less than a cycle ago, when Grogu was sick, you took him to Peli and went to the market for medicine. You woke up early and took him. When I woke up, I was beside myself with worry. When eventually you returned in the evening without him, what was my reaction?”

“You were very upset, mesh’la,” he sits up, wanting to provide you with his full attention, knowing you were concerned. It still bothered Din to this day that he overlooked how upset you had been.

“I was very upset, yes and when you told me where Grogu was, what did I say?”

“You told me I made you feel insufficient as a parent because I didn’t tell you our son was sick and made you feel that you couldn’t care for him so left him with a friend who would know what to do.”

“That’s right. I was very angry. I retrieved my son, came back and locked ourselves in our bunk without you until he pulled around from his fever. And what did you say when I finally let you see him?”

“To tell me when you’re upset. So that I can apologise and understand what I had done wrong because I don’t always realise it. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared my life with another human.”

“And what did I tell you?”

“To do the same.”

“So that leads us back to the present, my love,” Din’s visor lifts, his heart pounding at the sweet term on your lips. “Tell me what is wrong?”

Din’s body trembles but he swallows a lump in his throat, avoiding your gaze, he lets his thoughts release from his tongue, “Earlier I saw you with one of the creatures.”

You frown but nod, “the ewoks?”

Din nods, “Yes. I saw you holding it rather tightly.”

You seem puzzled until your eyes widen, realising what he’s saying.

“You seemed rather happy when you were holding it. I just thought, well I was curious if that was something you would like to do again?”

It’s silent. It’s so silent Din can hear the rustling of the trees through the forest.

“You mean if I would like to hold the ewok again?” Your voice comes out uneasily, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“I meant, if you would like to hold me?”

Din’s jaw tightens, his eyes closing. He’s so sure you’ll reject him. Why did he even say it? He should’ve just told you something else like how he was worried about the way you joked earlier about the ewoks wanting to eat Grogu, he should’ve just-

“Would you like me to hold you?”

Din’s helmet lifts immediately. His visor on yours and he swears while his head was dropped in denial, you’ve inched closer to him.

“Speak the truth.”

Din’s heart races at your words, his eyes running over your body, you’re practically crawling across to him and his shoulders lift and drop quickly with each uneasy breath he takes.

“Yes,” it’s urgent.

It’s pleading.

But before he can say anything else, your body is curled up into him, your legs trapping his broad ones, your arms slipping under his and flattening deliciously over his aching back muscles. Your head nuzzles up on his chest and Din looks down at your bodies, realising just how perfectly you fit together.

And then you squeeze.

Ever so gently but with enough pressure to send a wave of euphoria drowning out every unsure thought in Din’s mind.

“Is this okay?” You speak softly and Din bends to it, your voice and body draped over him like the softest blanket. His arms loosen, his hands finding refuge over your shoulders, the other weaving his fingers through your hair. You’re so soft. So warm. His fingers tugging gently through your strands, sending aches through your body. Maker, how you’ve longed for him.

“Yes. Is it okay for you?” He needs to know. He needs to know if you wanted this just as much as he does.

“It’s perfect,” and then you lift your head, your mouth inches from the underside of his visor where he swears you must be able to feel his breath escaping there and you do. You have to fight the urge to lift the helmet only so far as to press a soft kiss against those lips you have yet to feel, “You’re perfect, ner riduur.”

You shuffle your head back against his chest, “I’ve always wanted to do this.” You release a satisfied sigh, “I thought you wouldn’t like it.”

Din mentally groans, his arms tightening around you.

“I..I thought you’d reject me, ner kar’ta. That’s why I never asked. I’m sorry,” his voice drips with regret. Every night could’ve felt like this.

You giggle and Din feels his whole body relax at the sound.

“Such fools aren’t we? We got there in the end. So I guess I was wondering if we can do this every night?”

Din chuckles, a finger twirling around a strand of your hair, the other resting at your hip, “I was hoping we could. If that’s okay with you?” He takes the opportunity to tug you closer. His hands working over your back now while you shiver happily at the touch.

“Absolutely,” your lips tip into an amused grin, “especially since you got jealous. I need to make sure your needs are sated it seems.” You let your forehead tip against his helmet in a kiss momentarily and Din wished more than anything right now that he wasn’t wearing it at all.

Din doesn’t even argue with your accusation. He was jealous and he knew you’d find every way going forth to gauge that reaction from him again.

“Goodnight, Din,” you giggle, reading his mind.

“Sweet dreams, ner riduur,” he gently nudges his helmet against your head in return, feeling you relax, your eyes closing and gradually falling asleep in his arms.

Din smiles, watching you breathe slow, the puff of your chest felt against his own.

Maybe he should let you drag him on adventures more often if this is how they end.

[2-dsimp]

I finally found time to show up😭 anyway- I need sweet hc or hcs in general about Miki- I’m a sucker for merfolk- pretty please?🥺

-🪷

Cw: Work Wifey

—————-/—————-/—

Yandere coworker who’s an absolute wildcard. He can be sporadic always bustling from place to place so he’s the type not to sit still. He’d always be ranting your ear off about his new fixations and readily cling to you like the suction of a tentacle. He’s funny without meaning to as in he’ll make the most random comment before acting like nothing happened. Getting confused when he sees people laughing when he’s genuinely trying to voice an opinion.

“What’s up with you guys? All I said was shouldn’t Dill’s pickles be called Dickles instead? It’s good for marketing no?”

Yandere Coworker that can be classified as a himbo from how dense he could be at times. Especially when it comes to utilizing human appliances since he originated from the sea. Where he was used to eating raw meats like fish amongst other things he came across while hunting for a meal.

“Work wifey help meee! I think the macrowave thingy is trying to pick a fight with me! What’s it beeping so aggressively for?! Do I need to make an offering or something to appease it?”

Yandere Coworker who’s trying his best to adapt to the human world of civilization. By sticking to you like glue since you were the first to reach out to him and guide him in on the customs. While the others were hesitant at first seeing how peculiar he was. And in the process he’s learned of many terms his favorite being work wifey since he’d always think of you.

Yandere Coworker that Oftentimes reminds others of a shark pup just staring longingly outside the window pane of the office. Waiting for his owner to return, as some coworkers of his joked. But the majority felt bad since they know he’s the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. So they mainly mess with him just to get him to focus on other things. Rather than his lonesomeness without his precious work wife support.

“Cmon you sea guppy don’t you’ve got some errands to run?”

“Errands…? My work wife always liked to run errands. Says that it’s fun to get out rather than be cooped up in the office all day”

“Bro, they’ll come soon it’s not time for them to clock in yet. Since they’re coming in late remember?”

“…Huh? My bad I spaced out, I was thinking about my work wife”

The coworkers collectively facepalm and groan at his inherent neediness for you. And can only pray for you to return so that their newly appointed manager starts working his magic in the sales pitch department. Since they need his expertise in managing to clutch deals with some key figures who happened to like his quirky charms and foolhardy honest aptitude.

[ashsimpsalot]

Mera naam... (Monkey man Kid X Reader)

A/n: uhhhh idk if I like it as much as coconut & honey but enjoy!

'you should never lie'

his mother once told him with angry eyes that he hated to see so much. When Kid was just 8 years old, he had lied to his poor mother about going to play near the river just in front of their humble home, instead, going off far away into the market because he wanted to buy the bangle she's been eyeing for a while.

He's been a proper good boy, he swore, he helped Mr Deepesh, their next door neighbour, by cleaning up his chicken coop for money. He didn't mean to worry her.

'You shouldn't lie to the people you love, even when you think it's for a good reason, a lie is a lie,' she had worriedly say while hugging her boy to her chest.

He didn't think those words would haunt him 20 years later. Kid didn't even mean to lie to you, he didn't even mean to fall for you, but he had, and his lies only bury him into a deeper hole.

"Bobby? You're ready to go?" your sweet voice snapped him out of his thoughts, the beer he's been nursing while you pack up the kitchen still in his hand.

"yeah," he nods, giving you a small smile. You wrapped your hands around his arm so easily as if you've been doing it for years, in reality it's only been 4 months.

4 months of lies

4 months of love

His mind wandered back to how he got here, with your hands wrapped around his arm, heading for your motorcycle. Was it that night? When he first entered his shift, he noticed you eyeing him. He didn't think much of it, you were a chef after all. You could've just been curious about the new staff.

Was it when he keeps staring at you too? Unintentionally?

But it's definitely when you start smiling at him. He's never had any other thought than revenge then this.. You... You happened.

"hey handsome, where's your mind travelling to?" you asked so sweetly he didn't even mind. Kid didn't know much about himself but he knew he hated when anyone else interrupt his thought process, not you though, never you.

Kid smiled and shook his head. "nowhere, right here," he covered it up with a quick peck on your lips and took your helmet from you, placing it onto your head and pinning it on for you, then with a stupid smile on his face he lifted the visor to boop your nose. You chuckled.

Fuck, is this love? This overwhelming feeling over the slightest thing you do?

He put on his own helmet and got on the bike, waiting till you get on too. His waist never felt so empty until you wrapped your arms around them.

4 months ago he didn't even have his own room, now he's heading to "our store" getting off the bike and ordering "the usual" and going straight to "our spot"

He doesn't even know who he is anymore.

Your kiss on his lips brought him back to reality.

"congrats, baby, on making it to VIP floor." you said with a smile on your lips.

If only you knew why he wanted to be on VIP floor so bad.

"thank you, jaan," he whispered softly, arms around your waist, swaying left to right lightly as if dancing to a song. He leaned down and kissed you again. "what's this? What's wrong?" damn you, you always somehow knew, your finger tracing his eyebrows as if to pull the frown out of his face.

He didn't know what to say. Tell you what? He's not at all who you think he is? He's plotting to kill a man? Burn the hotel? Kill one of the most influential fucking man in India?

"hey, you can tell me, Bobby, I'm here," you called that name so lovingly he had to physically fight from flinching.

In a perfect world where he isn't such a coward he'll open his mouth and tell you the truth but the truth is he's just that, a coward.

"i swear it's nothing, jaanu, just... Tired," he smiled and hugged you burying his nose in your neck, scared that he'll forget what you smell like once you find out who he is.

Your fingers snaked into his curls, playing with them like always, like it's yours, like he's yours.

"I've got you, always," you whispered into his ear, planting a soft kiss after.

He hope you meant that

Because after almost 2 months of disappearing, hiding from the police in the temple with the hijras, he's back, at your house, knocking.

You opened the door, you looked great but your eyes looks almost dead, somber.

"jaanu," that's all he could whisper, seeing you again is...

You tried to close the door but his reflexes made him able to hold the door open.

"please, please just let me explain myself"

You looked at him and scoff. "explain what? I don't even know who you are, what could you possibly say to me? What was your plan? Kill Rana and pin it on me or something? Is that it?" your voice gets shakier and shakier by each sentence, your grip on the door loosen. Kid quickly shook his head.

"no, no, never, jaanu," he had wrapped his arms around your crying figure, his body is half through the door, cupping your cheek and tenderly caressed your tears away.

"I trusted you! I loved you!" you cried out and all he could do was hold onto you while you smack your fists on his chest again and again.

"I know, i know," he whispered, he lead you inside as you limped against him.

On the couch he held you, tighter than usual, he lets you cry onto his chest, not caring about the condition of his shirt.

"you didn't call, you didn't explain, you just vanished, I thought you fucking died!" you cried out.

"I know jaan, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" thats all he can offer. He kept whispering apologies and sweet nothings into your ear until you end up falling asleep on his chest. He laid you down on the couch, planted a soft kiss on your forehead and went to the kitchen. Skillfully manoeuvring through your kitchen, making a meal as he's been there countless of time. He didn't keep track of time, only glancing at the clock when he hears a croak of your voice calling his 'name'.

"I'm here jaan," Kid said walking towards the couch to see your eyes teared again.

"I thought you left again," you said with a whine in your voice, he sat next to you, arm pulling your towards him to kiss your head. "I'm here," he repeated.

"I went to make you some food, it's pretty early I don't think you've eaten," he explained, you simply nodded.

"I... I want you to explain to me who you are and what's happening." you said voice beyond tired.

"my name isn't Bobby,"

"yeah no shit," you scoffed, he only nodded, he's glad really, you're letting him hold you, touch you that's a good sign, right?

" my name... Is Kid. I worked at Queenie's hotel because I'm... Plotting revenge on Rana and Baba shakti. For killing my mother." his voice grew quieter and quieter. The obvious pain in his voice when he mentioned his mother.

"my hands," you looked at those hands, his scarred hands he meant, the ones you would plant kisses on after a night of passion, the ones you loved so much. "they got hurt when I tried to put out the fire my mother was set on... By Rana Singh," he said, face grew harder, voice turned colder.

You stared into his eyes. "Kid," you tried calling his name. He looked at you, all attention on you as if nothing else matters.

"I swear I didn't mean to rope you into this. I didn't mean to hurt you, I couldn't... I couldn't stay away from you, I tried. You consume me, my thoughts, I've never thought of anything else but revenge all my life and you walked into it and make me feel alive again. As if I could have any other life than just death after revenge. I never wanted to live but when I hold you I feel this fear of death that I've never felt before. Understand that all was real, my feelings for you was real, is real," he begged, his hands on your cheeks again.

"but you tried to kill him anyway, why?"

He shook his head. "when I saw him. When I saw that bastard I lost it. Why does he get to live his life while my mother is ashes somewhere on the forest floor?" he grunted, face angered.

You do what you always does, your finger start tracing his eyebrows, his face visibly soften. Like he could breathe again. He took your other hand and kissed it, leaning into your touch. He had been craving you, and you knew. "you're going after him again aren't you?"

"yeah" was all he could breathe out.

You sighed but you understood. The rage he has, it's all he knows.

"will you come back?"

His face lighten. "you want me to?" he asks, hopeful.

"always, always come back to me."

"but I'll be a fugitive by then," he said worried, he's not sure worried that you'll change your mind or that you'll be a fugitive too if you chose to follow him.

You shook your head. "I don't care, come back, we'll run together, I rather not live without you by my side. But Kid.."

"hm?" he asked, looking at you intently with your hands on his. "don't lie to me ever again. Ever." you warned.

He nodded his head and pulled you into him. "never, jaanu." he kissed you deeply, deeper than he ever did that day, lead your body the way he missed. He devoured you full that day, passion spilling into physical touches. He need you to understand his love. He needs you to scream his name. His real name.

[themaclean]

We Don't Have To Be Friends (1/2) Characters: Cooper Howard/Lucy MacLean. Summary: 3,507 words, Post Season One -- character study that was meant to be PWP, but then ended up being entirely plot. Part two will be smut or I will krill myself. Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't see in the show. ( Ao3 ) > Part One | Part Two | Part Three <

Cooper never thought much about Hollywood anymore.

He had no reason to and no time either— but the thoughts bubbled up when he saw how the gold thread of his shirt dulled and familiar street signs melted into slack arches. Sometimes, he’d catch sight of a tattered newspaper with names he recognized or faces of people long since dead.

But nothing made him think of Hollywood the way Lucy did.

It hit him one afternoon with a nasty churn, that flash of the old world that locked his knees mid-stride. It was pathetic, really, when he thought about it now.

It was the flash of Lucy's Vault-Tec-sponsored smile over her shoulder, her thin hand with a necrotized finger pointing ahead of them at some landmark she’d heard of. With her head turned at just the right angle, and the sun was low as it caught the edges of her cheeks and lashes…

She had the sort of face girls in the movies had: clear skin, big eyes, and neat hair. Pretty — beautiful, actually, but not as a matter of compliment. Beautiful in the way she’d make a good price at any given market if he was inclined to sell her. Beautiful in the way people loved to exploit.

That’s the lifeblood of Hollywood—that churning mass of young talent desperate to prove they had what it takes. They’d sweet talk whoever they needed to, go to the parties, and chat his ear off about how amazing he’d been in whatever movie had come out lately, about the sponsorships they’d been offered, and about the dresses they got sent. They’d slip him their number and hold his bicep too long like they’d been taught to by managers and mothers alike.

Dozens of pretty women rushed to audition for the role of arm candy. They’d audition to play the mayor's daughter, the farmer's daughter, or so-and-so’s daughter. They’d always been the damsel. Then, whatever cowboy he’d been hired to play would toss the pretty woman onto the back of Sugarfoot and ride off into the sunset. The sort of girl who'd be gone by the next movie or end up married to a director, so she'd quit acting.

And, much like all the girls in Hollywood Cooper had spent time with, Lucy had changed. She had the same optimism, but it’d dulled; her marketable face now held tired, empty eyes. It was like she finally caught onto the world’s current: no sunset and no next movie.

Cooper couldn’t fault her. It's a strange journey to discover what to do to survive.

“Hey Cooper — is that it?” Lucy asked, repeating herself. The sprawl of buildings ahead was dotted with torches and candles.

Cooper nodded, his hand firm on Dogmeat’s collar.

A short strip of buildings stood out against the expanse of desert and dry shrubs. Each building leaned towards another, with sheet metal fastened with unskilled welding. Several turrets puttered away, seeking whatever wasn’t humanoid enough. Strips of fabric and tin cans garlands peppered the buildings' front. The smaller buildings on either side were your standard fare: a repair shop, a medic, a trader with a little diner area.

But the one Cooper was after stood out for its neon sign—Hell’s Oasis.

Hell’s Oasis served its purpose—it was a decent place to get information, and the people minded their business. They weren’t too bothered with ghouls or mutants as long as you had caps. The place often served as a meeting ground for bounty hunters and their contractors. It was also one of the more upscale places, as they wouldn’t harvest organs unless you died of natural causes.

And, if you couldn’t fight or forage for survival, you could fuck for it.

(Not that Cooper ever wasted caps on the whores who took residence within Hell’s Oasis. He’d sooner pay people to fuck off than spend the night with him.)

Cooper grabbed Lucy by the nape of her neck to yank her close and keep her firmly by his side. Most people he brought here, he left here — call it a force of habit to handle her so roughly.

“I can walk, y’know,” Lucy hissed.

“Stick close,” Cooper clicked his tongue at her, and a slight hiss followed. His grip flexed to further the message that she’d do well to follow his guidance.

They made their way through the hotel lobby, the moldy carpet slick against the floor with dirt and grease from the world outside. A few people chattered away in the attached bar, laughing at jokes Cooper couldn’t make out. Casino chips clattered on the table as they played made-up card games.

Long dead plants clung to arid dirt, the sticks of old ferns wilting against one another. Metal crates were lashed together in each corner of the alcove where the front desk sat, providing a makeshift cage between the staff and the patrons. Several girls rushed past Cooper and Lucy, jeering and cackling as they approached the bar. They were clad in lacy nightgowns. He couldn’t tell if they knew they were lingerie rather than clothes or if they’d even care.

“It’s so lively here,” Lucy said, a pang of something in her face.

“It happens in pockets,” Cooper said with a shrug of his shoulder. Little uh… spots of life.”

“Must be why they call it an oasis.”

Cooper rolled his eyes as they reached the front desk. Magazines sat in thick stacks with information about local tours in the area and a guide to the national parks. An abandoned handbag was tucked against the desk, which Lucy eyed with curiosity.

Cooper slapped the front desk bell a few times, a gargling growl low in his throat.

They needed this break after a couple of weeks on the road together. Water was getting sparse, and he wanted to be ready to meet with whoever the fuck Hank had run off to. And in such an open desert, there’s no sense traveling at night, and all manner of dumb shit came up along the way.

It was always something. People needed help or some dumb cunt trying to pick a fight, resupplies, rest… He didn’t like helping people much, but Lucy argued with him whenever they tried to go on without at least trying. And whether the people lived or died, at least they tried. That was her argument.

But Lucy listened to him a little more now, and he was as patient as he could be with her.

Cooper rang the bell again. He wanted a room, and the chattering laughter in the bar was only making his aches worse.

Priscilla appeared from behind a moth-eaten velvet curtain. Her hairline was hidden beneath a thick headscarf with puffy blond curls bouncing beneath it. The last time he’d been here, her hair had begun to rot out of her skull. He guessed it’d only gotten worse. She’s still pretty, mirroring that old-world red lip with pin curls.

“Oh my God, is that you, Coop? I haven’t seen you in a long time,” Priscilla said in a slow, low voice. She had a rasp to it, always had, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the radiation or a smoking habit.

“Was underground,” Cooper said with a lazy smile. He wouldn’t mention that he’d been underground in a literal sense, trapped in a coffin.

“Well, it’s nice for you to come to see us and…” Priscilla’s gaze slid to Lucy, that usual surprise swelling up at the sight of a genuine Vault Dweller. They weren’t hard to spot. “Ah, you turning her in for a bounty?”

Lucy’s head snapped towards him, a mixture of shock and disgust.

“No,” Cooper shook his head, his grip firm on Lucy’s neck to turn her head away from him. His fingers tensed before they dropped away altogether, brushing across Lucy’s shoulder. “Tag-along. Helpin’ her uh…” He picked through the words that came to mind, cautious not to share too much. “Adjust to the surface.”

Priscilla’s jaw squared as she stared Lucy down.

“We’re just lookin’ for a room, some food,” Cooper said before she could pry further. “Usual fare.”

“Please,” Lucy said, like Cooper had forgotten, and it was important to say. “The usual fare, please.”

“She speaks,” Priscilla said in a purr.

Cooper had to give Lucy credit. She’d stayed quiet much longer than he’d expected.

“Oh, we’ll also need water,” Lucy said, looking up at Cooper. “For cleaning and drinking. I’m not sure if you separate it that way or if you reuse it unless you have showers.”

Priscilla narrowed her eyes. “Running water? We can get you a bucket of water, sweetness. That alright with you?”

“It works great for me. Big fan of buckets. They’re the backbone of agriculture and cleaning, really, if you think about it…” Lucy agreed, her smile as bright as the neon sign by the front window.

Priscilla looked at Cooper and then at Lucy, repeating the loop before she sauntered behind a moth-eaten velvet curtain strung up with zip ties. The distant hum of a generator underscored the silence as Cooper picked over the board of caricatures. Plenty of people were banned from the premises or with a bounty on their heads — no one stood out on the board, at least.

“She was giving us a weird look,” Lucy leaned closer to Cooper, feigning a swipe of her hand through her hair. The floor creaked as she shifted her weight closer to him. “Is it the bucket thing? I panicked.”

Cooper scoffed from the back of his throat.

“It is safe here, right? You trust her?”

“It’s safe,” Cooper bared his teeth at Lucy, begging her to return to the docile silence she’d thrived in.

“Then why — ”

Cooper hissed for her to shh through clenched teeth.

Priscilla pushed past the curtain. She gripped a little blue card with faded gold edges. A key with a golden ball chain was attached to the edge. It felt strangely archaic to be so formal about lodgings, but it was why he liked this place.

“I guess it makes sense,” Priscilla said as she slid the key to Cooper. She nodded to Lucy. “You wanting a girl who’s more… Old—world flavor. It reminds you of the golden years, hm?”

“Six, right?” Cooper ignored her question, his gaze fixed to the card.

“Six,” Priscilla repeated, her gaze on Lucy.

Cooper tossed a few caps onto the front desk, the clatter of metal their own punctuation. He notched his head towards the stairs, and Dogmeat and Lucy followed in stride. He was eager for the simple things — water, food, and a moment to let his bags rest.

“Wanting a girl…” Lucy smiled, mumbling more of Priscilla’s words under her breath.

After several flights of stairs and a few hours, Cooper felt all the better. He’d eaten his fill and enjoyed the peace of an enclosed room. He didn’t often allow himself such a luxury, as being in a settlement put a target on your back for any larger groups. But it’d been two weeks since they’d had proper rest out of the elements.

Tracking Hank wasn’t easy, either. That suit meant he could skip over all the pocked landscape and roaming threats. What would take him an hour to travel by air was a day for them sometimes, a fact that spurred Cooper on. But they couldn’t rush, as rushing would only get them killed.

One wrong step and you were deathclaw chow.

“God, more, please!”

And there went the silence. Cooper’s eye twitched; his lipless mouth sneered at the screeches.

Whoever had taken up residence in room five was making the most of their money — an hour straight of screams and moans, an hour straight of Lucy pretending to read. She’d picked up a holotape at the last outpost they’d stopped at; something about a sequel she’d always wanted to continue reading.

By the second hour, it wasn’t so much that room five stopped fucking. But they at least got a lot quieter about it. The occasional shriek or moan rattled through the air vents, but it was far and few between.

Lucy lay across the double bed, her boots discarded beside the door. Her vault suit hung from the defunct radiator. Her washing was all done, and she’d freshened up, the usual Lucy shit. She’d helped herself to the water and changed into some pajama set she’d pilfered from a house a few days back.

“I think it’s nice,” Lucy said into the open air of the hotel room.

Cooper looked up from his shotgun, teeth bared like he was trying to smile. “The quiet?”

“No,” Lucy smiled at the wall between them and room five. “That people can find love, even now.”

Cooper couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that. The cackles shook from low in his lungs and caught him so off-guard he hacked up some foul muck into his palm. He hissed through a wheezed breath as he fumbled with his RadAway puffer.

“I mean it! It’s not funny!”

“That ain’t love, Vaultie,” Cooper coughed out, his eyes narrowed as drool and tears mingled on his cheeks. He wiped his face, fine skin catching against the scarred, leathery mess. “That…” He pointed to the wall. “S’probably a whore and her John making the most of the caps.”

Lucy’s eyes darted as she picked apart what he’d said. “John..?”

“John’s a term for uh…” Cooper’s jaw strained against a smile, though it was far too cruel to be kind. “A guy who pays for sex.”

“Ah, wasteland slang,” she said with a solemn nod, as if it made sense she hadn’t caught on immediately.

“Old world slang,” Cooper corrected.

Lucy looked around the hotel room anew, like she’d finally caught on to what this place really was. She scooted to the edge of the bed, to sit with her legs angled towards him. “That woman at the front desk said you’d want a girl who’s old world — she thought I was a prostitute. ”

“Maybe.”

Lucy crossed her arms as if she had more to say on the matter. But then she remained quiet, uncharacteristically so.

“S’waste of caps.”

“Hiring me to have sex with you? Actually, I know all about sexual gratification, so I think it’d be a great use of money — caps.”

Cooper stared Lucy down as if he couldn’t parse what she’d just said. “Paying anyone money to fuck you is a waste.” Cooper tongued his lips apart. “Bullets. Meds. There’s shit worth paying for. Sex is — ”

“Important.”

“Sex ain’t worth much.”

“To you, maybe,” Lucy frowned. “It’s an act of love and intimacy, and… It’s how humanity continues, and it’s — fun if done well.”

“You wanna waste your caps on some cock?” Cooper snapped, his hand flapping at the door. “Be my guest.”

“No,” Lucy shook her head. “I don’t want to, but I’m saying that I… I think killing people is probably worse than sleeping with people for caps. If it’s to survive, I think it makes sense. Morally speaking.”

“Don’t,” Cooper snarled.

Cooper didn’t like how Lucy spoke to him most days, but this was a new, worse permutation. Her Vault-addled morality was sickening enough on its own, as she embodied whatever bullshit had been drip-fed to her by the company who’d bought her vault. Not that he was without sin, given the shit he’d done to survive this long.

But sex and love and all that shit was not front of mind. He needed to find his family and to know what happened to them. He didn’t need a two-cap blowjob from a stranger in the dim light of some bar. Though, in all honesty, his drug habit mixed with the amount of alcohol he’d drowned himself in, some nights got hazy.

There’s that animalistic, self-destructive part of him that won on his worst nights. The same part of him that kept him alive, the same part that let him do all the miserable shit he needed to do to survive.

But it’s certainly never been love. Not since Barb.

Never again, he’d wager.

"I had sex once," Lucy said this like it was a point of pride, now on her feet. She idled beside the bed, her gaze settled onto the empty space she’d been lying. "With my husband, but…" Her face twisted with this delayed amusement. She turned towards him, closing the gap between them.

Lucy’s eyes remained unfocused as she stared at the marked table between them, where his shotgun lay across a dirty cloth. "Does that make us both widows..? You said you have a family, right? So, you were probably married and had at least one kid. Not trying to presume, so tell me if I’m wrong, but… You said that in the observatory. That’s what you’re after."

Cooper parted his lips, a nasty tilt to his hairless brow.

Lucy gave a tight smile. "I was married. Only for a few hours, but… It was an arranged marriage, I didn’t meet him until the wedding. It turned out he was a raider from the surface posing as my match from Vault 32 and…" At this point, Lucy caught herself. “I feel for you, if you lost someone. That’s all.”

“You ain’t a widow.”

“Technically — ”

Cooper stood up, unable to stay seated. “You say you’re a widow like it’s a fact outta some book. The shit you went through — you’re an experiment gone wrong, not a damn widow,” Cooper said, his voice flat.

Lucy’s face twitched at his words as if she struggled to keep her smile. “Well, guess what? We’re all an experiment gone wrong, whether you’re in a vault or not.”

Cooper’s eyes twitched, narrowing in the dark of their hotel room. Room five was quiet, which made this moment all the worse. He didn’t like how she spoke about him, as if she knew what was happening in his mind. He wasn’t some wounded man looking for sympathy.

He wasn’t anything.

“Go back to your holotapes,” Cooper said with a jut of his chin. “You’ve been up here a few weeks, acting like you know how it is.”

“Well, I know we’ve all been screwed over by people hundreds of years ago, and I’m sorry if I’m not as beaten down by it as you, but — I’m just trying to share things with you, to…” Lucy struggled through her words, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “We don’t have to be friends, but we have to be — something.”

The couple in room five screeched. Cooper tensed out of habit but relaxed again when he reasoned what the noise was. It didn’t solve the fierce look on Lucy’s face as she stared him down, her fists clenched by her pajama-clad thighs.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Lucy said, shaking her damp hair out of her face. She stood idle by the table as if she had just realized she had stepped towards him in their argument. There was a bird-like shake to her chest, her heart and lungs quick beneath bone.

It was moments like this that made his nature crystalline to him — that thin line she couldn’t perceive of how easy it’d be to string her up by the ankles and bleed her dry. Of how easy it’d be to slide into that ache for warm flesh between his teeth and blood down his throat.

Ghouls aren’t welcome in most settlements for a reason, and Lucy is too damn optimistic to learn that lesson.

Cooper tongued the inside of his cheek, and his teeth gnashed at the frayed edge of his lip. “We have to be something, huh?”

Lucy’s brow twitched, and her jaw strained as she tried to stand taller. She nodded as something like hope softened her stern expression.

It wasn’t hard to close the gap. It was even easier to grab that ponytail she always wore and yank her head close, fist tight in her hair as he brought her close. Her hand scrabbled against the table, and nails dug into the wood as their eyes met.

“Don’t you ever talk about my family again,” Cooper said, his voice level. “We clear?”

Lucy’s breathing redoubled, but she nodded. Her nostrils flared as he let her go with a firm shove. There was a real sense of satisfaction as he felt her perception of him shift as if she’d forgotten she was dealing with a monster rather than a man. As if the rotted skin and exposed tensions, or the gaping hole where his nose had once been, weren’t enough warning.

Pretty girls in Hollywood were overlooked as much in his time — all in the name of survival in a race that no one really won. You took your part and played it until the work dried up. Then, you prayed for sponsorships, deals, and other things to spare you from the real world.

He watched it with co-stars, time and again. It wasn’t much different now, just less rhinestones and more rads.

[ghost-1-y]

Aphrodisiac

Witch!Shinobu x AFAB!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, sexual content, unprotected sex, mistress/slut dynamic, dom!Shinobu, sub!reader, cunnilingus (Shinobu receiving), scissoring, squirting, cum-eating(?), spanking as punishment, aphrodisiac, thigh riding, hair pulling, degradation (reader-receiving), lighthearted Sanemi slander, lmk if I missed anything!!

Summary: Your girlfriend usually spends all day cooped up in your shared cabin brewing potions and studying spells, and, of course, placing the occasional hex on someone she doesn’t particularly like. One day, when you return to your home deep in the woods, you find that she has come up with a rather…interesting potion recipe, and wishes for both of you to try it out together.

Word Count: ~2.6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

The woven basket you carried was slowly getting heavier as you trudged along the hidden trail that led you deeper into the woods, the soft crunch of the leaves a delightful sound which rang again and again with each step you took. Above, there was the loud staccato of a woodpecker looking for its next meal, and ravens soared overhead as they returned to their nest before sundown.

The red and orange foliage was mesmerizing, something you always looked forward to in the autumnal months of the year. It also signaled the beginnings of cooler weather, after the dreadful heat that summer brought upon the land. You hummed to yourself, singing melodic tunes that you’d heard since you were young – lullabies which would silence the cries of any newborn child. 

As you continued your way into the forest, you stopped to collect herbs and vegetation you found on the trail – finding mushrooms and gourds growing wild near trees, as well as the occasional set of animal bones left behind by some predator. It may have weighed down your basket even more, but the look on your girlfriend’s face would be worth it after a day away from the cabin you two lived in together.

Your eyes eventually caught a plume of smoke rising above the trees, as a small oak wood cabin appeared within the forest, surrounded by shrubs and flowers. You walked up the mossy stone pathway that led to the entrance, the door opening for you without having to knock, sensing your familiar energy as you walked closer.

The soft crackling of the fireplace was soothing as you walked inside and placed your basket on the wooden table – organizing the items you’d picked up both from the forest floor as well as the farmer’s market in the nearby village – where you’d purchased foods for the upcoming week. You brought the foodstuffs into your shared kitchen, putting them away into their proper places before gathering the remaining items and carrying them upstairs, the soft creak of each step you took giving away the age in which the cabin was built.

You knocked on the door that led to your girlfriend’s bedroom, hearing a soft “come in” before entering. She was, as usual, at her desk – looking through what seemed to be a spell book with unbroken focus.

Her room was enchanting, her shelves lined with books about herbology and magick, as well as jars filled with various ingredients that she’d use for potion making. Her black cat was sitting on the comforter of her bed, eyes watching you as you walked over to her desk.

“I’m back, ‘Nobu,” you gave her a quick kiss on her cheek before placing your basket on her desk, “I brought you some ingredients, I hope they’ll be of some use to you!”

She turned to you, a faint smile on her lips as she peered through what the basket contained, taking out various herbs and anything else you gathered for her on your walk home.

“Thank you, love, I appreciate this,” she spoke softly, “I’m sure I’ll find good use for them.”

You grinned and sat down on her bed, her cat walking over to you before sitting in your lap, allowing you to pet it. A comfortable silence ensued, you watching her study whatever spell she was working on, with nothing but the faint sounds of the fireplace from the living room and the soft purrs from the cat in your lap filling the air.

“I saw Sanemi flirting with your sister the other day,” you mused, watching the way her shoulders tensed, “he was so awkward with the whole thing, it was hilarious to watch honestly.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to hex him so he won’t be able to shit for the next week,” she responded, and you giggled. Shinobu was always protective of her older sister, which you admired, but you found it slightly amusing what lengths she’d sometimes go to display such protection.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate you for that, ‘Nobu,” you smiled, and she continued her reading.

“I wanted to ask you about something, love,” she paused, “unrelated to Shinazugawa’s poor flirting skills.”

You laughed, “I’m listening.”

“However, I’d like for you to tell me if you trust me first,” she said.

You looked at her, briefly stopping the soft pets you were giving her cat, “of course I trust you, Shinobu,” you said seriously, “you’ve never given me a reason not to. I trust you fully.”

You could see some of the tension melt from her shoulders, relief seemingly filling her veins as she turned to you, her violet eyes searching yours.

“I’ve come up with a new potion,” she started.

“Really? What properties does it have?” you asked, and a faint smile appeared on her face.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I incorporated ingredients that are initially used for love potions, such as rosewater, rose petals, and cinnamon, however, I got curious and added some other ingredients to it as well.”

“Like what?” you asked curiously.

“Shatavari, maca root – both of which I ground into a powder, as well as damiana…which, if you’ve listened to my ramblings or have gone through my herbology books, you’d know that these are–”

“Aphrodisiacs,” you finished for her, your interest peaked, “and you created a potion out of these ingredients?”

“Yes,” Shinobu answered, “from what I could tell given the results of it, it’s a very potent lust potion, and I was wondering–”

“Do you want to drink it together?” you blurted out, slightly flushed from both the idea as well as the obvious eagerness in your tone.

She hesitated, “only if you’re completely fine with it, I know this is something new for both of us, so I just wanted to make sure–”

“Yes, when can we start?”

A slight smirk appeared on her face, before getting up from her desk and walking towards one of her shelves and pulling out two jars with a pink-tinted liquid inside them. She handed one of them to you, and turned her back for just a second to sit down on her bed.

“Honestly, one sip should be enough to cause the desired effects, so just–” she paused, eyes widening and mouth agape as she realized you’d already downed half of the entire jar.

You looked at her, fear in your eyes, “um…it’s not gonna kill me, right?” 

She shook her head, “no, but…oh fuck it,” she exclaimed, before downing nearly half of it herself. 

An awkward silence ensued, both of you waiting for the other to start exhibiting symptoms.

“Uh…’Nobu, I love you, but…are you sure this is gonna work?” you asked, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I’m certain it should work. I highly doubt that any of the ingredients would cancel each other out.”

“Okay, well…I hope I didn’t just drink that gross liquid for nothin—oh fuck–!” you jolted, careening over as you went to hug yourself, a searing hot sensation bubbled deep within your gut. Startled by your sudden movement, Shinobu’s cat crawled out of your grasp and left the room. You looked over at Shinobu with widened eyes, nervous considering how strong the reaction was, and she looked slightly concerned before going into a fetal-like position herself, seemingly dealing with a similar situation as you were.

The feeling of heat in the lower part of your abdomen began to radiate, spreading to other parts of your body. You shuddered, starting to become irritated by the clothes you were wearing – your skin just felt so sensitive. Without hesitating, you removed your outer layers, leaving you in nothing but a bra and panties. Shinobu eyed you hungrily from her position on the bed, seemingly liking the idea of removing her own clothes as well – taking off the butterfly-patterned cardigan that was a gift from her sister, as well as the rest of her outfit. A blush spread across her cheeks, panting from her increased heart rate as well as the heat that seemed to fill each and every crevice of the room.

“Well, I knew the effects would be strong, but–” Shinobu gasped, “this is more than what I originally anticipated.”

“Kiss me, ‘Nobu, please.”

She didn’t waste any time, her hand going behind your neck and pulling you into her, kissing you fervently. She forced her tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan as she used it to massage and caress your tongue. She brought her hands to your breasts, roughly tweaking at your nipples and pinching them, the pain mixing with the pleasure and sensitivity of each touch she gave you.

Your moans were wanton as she fondled your breasts, grinding against her thigh as your panties grew wetter – barely even able to taste the friction due to how slick it was between your thighs. She slapped one of your tits, before taking her bra off and pulling you down by your hair so you could suck on hers while she continued to grope your own. You took one of her tits in your mouth, moaning at how soft and supple her skin was before sucking at it, earning a moan from her as she grabbed a fistful of your hair.

“Such a good slut for your mistress, aren’t you?” she cooed, and you whined around her nipple, licking and softly biting at it just as she liked. Her head tilted back, as she took her free hand and placed it between her legs, rubbing at her own clit to get herself off as you moved to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention that you gave the first before reaching up to kiss her once more.

Your hips continued to grind down on Shinobu’s thigh, your movements getting faster as you listened to her moans. Suddenly, without warning, you were cumming – nearly choking on your own saliva from how unexpected it was. You got lost in your own pleasure, fucking yourself on her smooth skin, moaning deeply into Shinobu’s mouth. Once you came down from your high, you noticed that Shinobu was eerily quiet. You opened your eyes, swallowing thickly at the disapproving look she gave you.

“Did I give you permission to cum, slut?” she asked, demanding that you answer.

“No–” you breathed shakily, “no, mistress.”

If Shinobu was feeling the same effects of the potion as you were, she was damn good at hiding it, because she readjusted her position and patted her lap, beckoning you to crawl over it.

“Do you know what happens to sluts who don’t obey?” she asked, her voice sickeningly sweet given the foul words that were coming out of her mouth.

“They– they get punished,” you stuttered, and she nodded.

“That’s right, bad sluts get punished. I want you on all fours and crawled over my lap, do you understand?”

You nodded meekly and obeyed her command, arching your back as she traced her hand down your body, eventually reaching the fullness of your ass. She grabbed a handful of your flesh before pulling her hand back and landing a slap on your ass, earning a small yelp from you. The smacks continued, as she alternated between your ass cheeks with each slap, both proudly displaying a blooming redness as she punished you.

“Ah– ‘Nobu please…’t hurts,” you whined, despite obviously arching your back even more so she could continue. 

“Oh, I know, baby, but you have to understand that good sluts are ones who don’t cum without permission. Does your dumb little brain know that yet? Or are you just a mindless cum whore who needs to be fucked?”

“Mmmh— need you, ‘Nobu.”

Shinobu sighed, “obviously you’re too fucked out to comprehend anything I’m saying. But, you’re lucky, ‘cause I– I need to cum just as much as you do,” she started to pant, the effects of the potion slowly addling her brain as well. “Get off my lap, I’m gonna fuck you now ‘mkay?” 

You crawled off of her and laid on your back, legs spread as she moved herself between them, holding one of your legs as her pussy pressed against yours – both of you gasping at the feeling of copious amounts of slick leaking out of each of your cunts. Shinobu started to grind down onto you, gasping and moaning with each brush her clit made against your pussy. You whined, starting to buck your own hips to increase the friction she was creating.

It wasn’t enough.

Shinobu’s movements quickened, wanting, needing more – more friction, more pleasure, more you.

Her head fell back, her gasps and moans dripping from her mouth as her grinding became second nature, unable to stop or slow down even if she wanted to. The mattress creaked with each thrust, knocking the headboard against the wall with each buck of her hips against your sweet cunt. 

Your legs were shaking, one of them only being held up due to Shinobu’s grip on it – an attempt at stabilizing herself. Each brush of her cunt against your clit caused fresh tears to fall down your cheeks, your mouth permanently agape and emitting the smallest moans as you lost control over your voice. 

Eventually, Shinobu wasn’t able to hold herself up anymore, collapsing on top of you as she ground into your pussy, seeking your lips with hers as wanton moans escaped both of your lips.

“Fu– Fuck, baby I– shit,” she moaned, kissing you sloppily, the warmth in her gut unrelenting as she fucked you. 

You whined in response, babbling being the most you could do from how drunk you were from her pussy. Your abdomen tensed, feeling the familiar buildup inside of your stomach. 

“Nngh– ‘Nobu, I– I’m gonna–!” you whined. 

Her breath was hot against your ear as she panted. “Cum for me, slut.”

It was too much – by the time she brushed up against your clit once more, you felt a sudden rush of fluid gushing out of your cunt, causing a spike of pleasure unparalleled to anything you’ve felt before. You let out a high pitched whine as it sprayed all over Shinobu’s pussy, gasping for air as it messily dripped down both of your thighs. 

“Oh my– you’re such a filthy slut aren’t you?” she smirked, and you flushed red with embarrassment, “come clean up your mess, pet– I won’t let you go until you do.” 

Whimpering, you crawled out from under her and placed your head in between her thighs, sloppily licking up the mess you made on her pussy, swallowing everything you lapped up. Her soft moans encouraged you, moving up to suck on her clit before licking your tongue in circles around it. Her legs trembled on either side of you as you greedily swallowed all of the juices that leaked out of her, inserting two fingers inside of her cunt just to collect more of her sweetness on your tongue. You felt her tense above you, and a moan escaped her throat as she gushed all over your mouth, soft whines filling the air as you lapped up all that she gave you.

“Such a good slut f’ me…” she breathed, and you smiled as you licked the last of her up, earning a few more whines from the overstimulation you were causing her. You kissed her thigh before resting your head on her stomach, her fingers slowly brushing through your hair as she laid back on her bed, a sense of calmness filling the room as the burning effects of the potion slowly wore off.

“Mmh…love you ‘Nobu,” you mumbled, eyes closing due to how fatigued you were. She sighed, her own exhaustion becoming apparent as you relaxed against her.

“Love you more, my dear, always will,” she said softly, eyes slowly drifting shut as you both peacefully fell asleep in each others’ embrace.

Taglist: @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @kyojurismo, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701 (if your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you - apologies for the inconvenience)

[awkwardwhims]

I was asked what sdv mods I use; so here we go! The list is quite lengthy so I put them under the cut. Remember, alot of these mods require other mods to work properly so make sure to check their requirements before downloading!

animals Elle's Cuter Barn Animals Elle's Cuter Cats Elle's Cuter Coop Animals Elle's Cuter Dogs Elle's Cuter Horses Elle's Town Animals Bees Moths Hummingbirds Ladybugs

buildings Aimon's More Lively Quarry Overhaul Aimon's Tidy Cozy Farmhouse Aimon's Tidy Cozy Cellar Aimon's Tidy Cozy Ginger Island Farmhouse Gweniaczek's Medieval Themed Sheds (Earthy) Gweniaczek's Medieval Buildings Gweniaczek's Fish Ponds Gweniaczek's Way Back Pelican Town Gweniaczek's Shipping Chest Gweniaczek's Pigeon Mailbox Gweniaczek's Stable & Tractor Garage Green Farm Cave Shyzie's String Lights

character Starkissed Skintones DCBurger's High Res Portraits Hats Won't Mess Up Hair More Elegant Farmer Body Fae's Elf Ears Fashion Sense Ani's Colored Collection & Recolored Pants Missy's Shirts Shardust's Animated Hairstyles Yomi's Golden Princess Hairystyle

cheats CJB Cheats Menu CJB Item Spawner Community Center Helper Destroyable Bushes Instant Buildings From Farm Let's Move It NPC Map Locations Passable Crops Place Furniture Outside (Furniture Anywhere Redux) Save Anywhere

crafting Gweniaczek's Medieval Craftables Nano's Garden Style Craftables Atelier Wildflour Flower Shoppe

crops Cuter Crops & Foraging Quaint Living Flower Garden 2 Atelier Wildflour Crops & Forage Nature's Bounty (Cannabis)

furniture Guxelbit's Furniture Adorable Cottage Bathroom Atlas Plasma TV Cottagecore Beds Dustbeauty's Industrial Furniture Greenhouse Set H&W Outdoor Furniture Pack H&W Outdoor Furniture Recolor Mega Pack H&W Bathroom Furniture H&W Fairy Garden Furniture H&W Fairy Garden Furniture Recolor Mega Pack H&W Farmer's Market H&W Farmer's Market (Wildflour's Set) H&W Greenhouse Furniture H&W Greenhouse Furniture Recolor Set H&W Romantic Furniture H&W Romantic Fountains & Arches Lovely Kitchen Mi's & Magimatica Country Furniture Modern Farm Computer Rustic Country Walls & Floors Seasonal Open Windows (Brown) Divine Decor

gameplay Market Town Tractor Mod Old School Bouncy Tractor

items/retextures Terracotta Garden Pots DSHi Food Retexture DSHi Minerals Retexture DSHi Shipping Items Retexture

farm maps Overgrown Garden Farm

expansions Ridgeside Village

visual aesthetics Animated Bird Tappers Too Many Swatches II DaisyNiko's Earthy Interface DaisyNiko's Earthy Interiors DaisyNiko's Earthy Recolor Earthy Ridgeside Village Elle's Dirt & Cliff Recolor Elle's Grass Replacement Firefly Torch Darker Paths & Floors Seasonal Fences Stardew Foliage Redone (an edit done for 1.6)

UPDATED: April 7th, 2024

[thetriumphantpanda]

retrograde, we'd shake the frame of your car

Oh look, it's a new instalment of our favourite neighbourhood DILF. Thank you so much for your continued support of this silly little series of mine. Please continue to reblog, comment and like if you're enjoying this!

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary | Joel drives you out of the way of prying eyes for a 'date'

Word Count | 3.4k

Warnings | As usual, just dbf!Joel in general, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, fingering (f), unprotected PiV sex (Don't do this) and talk of contraceptives.

Part 1 | Part 2

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The late afternoon sun is beating through the kitchen windows as you rinse the plates in the sink before stacking them in the dishwasher. You smile to yourself as you place them exactly where Joel had told you during your party, before your mind wanders to more unsavoury thoughts of him. 

Your parents are sat in front of the television as you wrap up clearing up for dinner, making sure the leftovers are packaged in the fridge. You’re about to grab a cold beer for your dad to enjoy whilst he watches his shows when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

Joel.

Fancy going for a drive? 

Sounds ominous. This hasn’t been your plot all along has it? Sweeten me up so you can take me down a back road and murder me? 

Joel. 

Damn. You caught me. Guess I’ll just have to take you down a back road and fuck you instead. 

Give me twenty and pick me up at the end of the road. 

You pull out the beer for your dad but leave the bottle you were going to take for yourself, walking it through to the living room. You hand it to him but don’t sit down like usual. 

“I’m gonna go for a drive,” You announce, “Been cooped up here all day, just want to get out for a bit.” 

Your mom looks up for her gossip magazine and raises an eyebrow, “You be careful now,” She warns, “And be back by eleven, okay?” 

“I’m twenty-five mom, do I still need a curfew?” 

“Whilst you’re living under our roof without paying rent, yes you do.” 

You sigh but relent. You must admit she is right. You hadn’t wanted to stay longer in New York once you’d graduated, thinking the job market in Austin would be less competitive, but it was still a slog trying to find a job that paid well enough that after your student loan payments were gone, you still had money to enjoy life. 

You grab your keys and head out of the door, driving your car a few streets over to make it look like you did indeed go for a drive on your own, parking it up in the parking lot of the church. You say a quick prayer of forgiveness to the Lord for leaving your car in his driveway so you could go and live in sin for a few hours, before you’re jogging the few streets back over to wait on the corner of the street for Joel. 

Within minutes he’s pulling up, rolling his window down with a wicked smile on his face, “How much for a few hours, sugar?” He finishes with a wink. 

“I’m outta your price range, Miller.” You shoot as you round the front of his truck and slip into the passenger seat. 

“Huh, weird,” He comments as he pulls away from the curb and starts driving, “Last time I checked you were free for me.” 

“Well then, aren’t you lucky?” 

“Very.” He says with a smile, as he free hand snakes to rest on the skin of your thigh, squeezing gently as he continues to drive to God knows where. 

You smile when you realise he’s pulling the truck into the reserve a little ways out of the suburbs. You’d been here before, sometimes on your own when you needed to clear your head, Sarah had asked to go hiking one weekend when Joel and Tommy were both working, and you think you briefly remember a high school boyfriend bringing you here so he could kiss you. 

The spot that he pulls into is secluded. There are trees that shade the small area that he parks in but there’s still a nice view of the lake through the windscreen of the car. The sun is starting to set, creating a mix of orange and red hues in the sky and it’s quite a romantic spot, you think to yourself. 

“You knew exactly where to come,” You muse as you undo your seatbelt, “You bring all your girls out here, Joel?” 

You turn to look at him and he has a smirk splayed across his lips, “You want the truth?” 

“Always.” 

He chuckles, “I used to bring Sarah’s mom here, when things were still good,” He points to a tree in front of you, “I actually think Sarah was conceived against that tree over there,” You gasp in shock at his admission, swatting at his bicep which has him laughing, “You asked for the truth!” He accuses. 

“So, you bought me here to reminisce?” You ask, “Gonna fuck me against the tree to relive your youth?” 

“You want me to fuck you against the tree?” 

You shake your head, “Not really, don’t think my hips and my back are up to the job.” 

“Don’t be so silly,” He chuckles, “You’re the young and agile one out of the two of us,” He’s finally undoing his own seatbelt, “But that’s good because I definitely don’t have the stamina to hold you up and fuck you like you deserve.” 

You look out to the lake, you can see the slight breeze is lapping the water to the shore and it’s so hot that you think dipping your toes into the water might offer some relief, “Wanna dip your toes, Miller?” You ask, nodding your head to the water. 

You don’t give him much time to respond, opening your door and stepping down from the truck as you break out into a jog down to the water’s edge. You can hear him open his door and the crunch of the gravel under his shoes as he moves to join you. By the time he catches up to you, you’ve already shed your sandals and you’re into the water up to your mid-calf. It’s not as relieving as you thought – the sun has been beating down on the water all day, so it’s like a lukewarm bath. 

Joel is kicking off his boots and tucking his socks into the top of them. You watch intently as he rolls the bottoms of his jeans up past his ankles before he’s wading into meet you. You can sense he doesn’t want to get his jeans wet, so he’s not moving any further once his ankles are covered in the water, so you wade into the shore a little, scratching the itch of desire to be closer to him. 

When you’re within reach, he’s taking hold of your wrist, turning your gently before his other arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest. You lean your head against his shoulder as you listen to the sounds of the breeze rustling the trees, the water lapping at the shore and the odd whistle of birdsong. 

“This is nice.” You mumble, turning your head to look up at him. 

“Yeah,” Joel sighs, bending down just enough to kiss you chastely on the lips, “Wish I could take you out properly, darlin’.” 

You spin in his arms so you’re facing him now, a teasing grin spread out on your mouth, “Has Joel Miller brought me here on a date?” You tease. 

“Maybe I did,” He smiles at you, “There’s even a cooler with beer in the truck.” 

He leads you from the water, stopping to let you put your shoes back on, so you don’t hurt your feet on the gravel. He motions for you to sit in the bed of his truck once he’s laid down a blanket for you. He pops the cap off two bottles of beer, making sure he insists he’s only having one so he’s safe to drive you back later. 

He settles into one of the corners, letting you sit between his thighs, leant back on his chest. It’s weird, sitting here like this, not worrying about the fact someone might see you, or hear you, but you can’t say that you hate it. After a week and a half of stolen moments and sneaky fucking, you wonder what it is the both of you are doing together, but you don’t bring it up. You want to enjoy this before launching into the inevitable question of ‘what are we?’ 

You finish your beer quickly, Joel opting to savour the singular drink he’s allowing himself, but he tells you to help yourself to another from the cooler, which you do, “This all seems very wholesome Miller.” You comment. 

You feel him shrug behind you, “Just wanted ya to know I’m not just here to get my dick wet,” You hear him take a sip, “I mean, I am because it’s fantastic, but I don’t wantcha feeling like I’m usin’ ya.” 

You want to add something meaningful to the conversation but you’re treading on dangerous ground. In all your fantasies about this situation it was never meant to be something serious. He was going to fuck you once, tell you it was a mistake and that would have been it. Nowhere had you imagined being led against him in the back of his truck like this. 

The sun is setting fast now, and you can sense that the darkness won’t be far behind, then you’ll need to go home. You put your half-finished beer back in the cooler, moving around so you’re still between Joel’s thighs, but just kneeling to face him now, “Kinda want you to get your dick wet now though.” 

“That so?” He raises an eyebrow and finishes the rest of his beer in a big mouthful, “You’ll need to come here then, won’t you?” 

His hands are dragging down your sides to reach your hips before he’s shifting his legs, so they’re not as spread, settling you onto his lap in a similar way to how you’d been the first time you’d done this. You settle yourself down on his lap and let your lips crash to his. 

He’s squeezing his hands on your hips, gently moving you in his lap so you’re grinding against him, just enough that there’s friction for both of you, whilst he opens his mouth when you rub your tongue along his plush bottom lip. You let your tongue mix languidly with his own as you continue to grind your hips into his, there’s no need to rush, not when you don’t have to worry about your parents walking in on anything, so you’re going to savour every second of this.

“Look so good on my lap, pretty girl,” He praises when you pull away, just a touch, from his lips to get some air, “Feel what you do t’me?” He’s bucking his hips up into yours where you can feel his growing erection in his jeans. 

You move forward to kiss him again. This time it’s more desperate, a clash of teeth and tongue. You take his bottom lip between your teeth at one point and nibble, which causes a hiss from his lips of mixed pleasure and pain. His hands have dropped from your hips and their now rooted under your skirt, gripping fingers into the meat of your ass so hard that you think you might bruise there tomorrow. 

You let a moan fall from your lips when he bucks his hips into you again, feeling the bulge in the front of his jeans rub at the front of your underwear, but it’s not enough anymore. 

“Joel-” You gasp, “Need- more.” 

“What do you need?” He whispers, “Tell me, pretty girl, and I’ll give it to you.” 

“Want you to make me come.” 

He doesn’t say anything in reply, just moves his hands to hook into the waistband of your underwear. You lift your hips enough so he can pull them down, but he doesn’t seem concerned about taking them all the way off just yet. 

“I’ve got a feeling of déjà vu.” You breath out, referencing the fact that you’re in exactly the same position as you were that first time, even down to the way his thumb is teasing along the seam of your pussy right now. 

“At least this time there’s no risk of your dad waking up and shooting me.” 

“I kinda- ohhhhh,” You trail off as his thumb dips between your folds to gather your slick before achingly bringing his finger up to touch your clit, “I kinda like the risk.” 

“Naughty girl,” He’s muttering, but he doesn’t seem to care all that much because he’s thumbing tight circles on your clit that have your hands gripping at his shoulders and your head thrown back in pleasure, “Might not be your daddy that catches us tonight, but still, plenty of opportunity for someone else to walk by and see me with my fingers in your pussy.” 

He's keeping his thumb on your clit, but you feel one of his thick fingers slip inside of you and curl in the way he’s learned makes you come undone with minimal work. You listen as he chuckles when you start grinding your hips down into his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers, “Always so tight for me sweetheart.” He praises. 

You’re letting out little gasps and moans as he works another finger inside of you, thumb never leaving your clit where it is rubbing tight and purposeful circles. You’re sure if anyone were to stumble upon you it would be hell of a sight. You with your head thrown back, grinding down onto Joel’s hand to meet the upward thrusts of his fingers, his name falling from your lips a mile and minute and Joel with his head buried in the crook of your neck, licking hot stripes with his tongue along your skin. 

“Don’t stop,” You gasp out, “God I’m so fucking close Joel, don’t you dare stop.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it darlin’.” He mumbles against your hot skin. 

Within seconds you’re clenching around his fingers and crying out into the canopy of the trees as he pushed you over the edge into oblivion. When you hear the shout of his name echo around you, you bite down on your bottom lip to stop any other sounds alerting someone to your presence as he works you through the aftershocks. 

He’s pulling his fingers from you, looking straight into your eyes when he brings the fingers that were inside you to your lips, “Go on, baby, clean yourself off my fingers.” 

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out. He presses the two fingers onto the flat of your tongue and you’re sucking them into your mouth, rubbing your tongue over them to clean your slick off him. It’s depraved but the look in his eyes makes it worth it, he’s hungry for you, looks like he’s about to devour you in a second. 

He pulls his fingers from your mouth, replacing them with his own tongue. You can hear him groan when he tastes you on your own mouth, “Fuck, you taste so sweet, pretty girl.” 

You don’t have the brain power to respond – instead, your hands grip his belt and start to undo it, pulling it through the beltloops. Then, he’s the one undoing the button on his jeans, tapping your hip for you to sit up so he can shuck them far enough down his thighs, along with his underwear, so that his cock is finally free. 

Your pussy clenches around nothing as you feast your eyes upon it. Sure, you’d felt it inside of you not two days ago, you knew he was big, but seeing it in front of you was another story. What you wouldn’t give to wrap your lips around it right now. You would, but you were desperate for him to fill you. 

You reach a hand out as you’re settling yourself back on his hips again, guiding his cock to rest at your tight heat, “Go on sweetheart,” He encourages, a hand coming to cup your cheek, “Sit yourself down on my cock for me.” 

You do exactly as you’re told. Joel slides into your slick pussy easily, despite the stretch, and its mere seconds before you still yourself for a moment when he’s buried inside you to the hilt. You can hear his quickened breathing below you – it’s good to know he feels the same as you do when he’s enveloped in your warmth like this. You start to move your hips, grinding into his own and the friction it creates is delicious. You can feel him nudging the sweet spot inside you as he moves. 

You look down at him, his eyes glazed over and his head leaning against the truck. He pushes himself forward as his hands lift your shirt up and over your head. You make no complaints when his fingers pull the straps of your bra down your shoulders and he pulls the cups down, freeing your tits in front of his face. 

“Knew you’d have such pretty tits, baby.” He’s mumbling before he takes a nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over the hardened bud whilst his other hand is working on your other. 

Everything that he’s doing is spurring you on. You feel him bring his knees up to rest against the back of your thighs, which gives you more leverage to start bouncing on his cock in earnest. His mouth doesn’t leave your chest except to switch from one nipple to the other, rolling each between his teeth, using the flat of his tongue to soothe each when he’s done. 

You’re half aware of the fact that your combined ministrations are causing the truck to shake beneath you – a squeak added to the sounds of you both gasping each other’s names, but if Joel doesn’t seem to care, then neither do you. 

“Baby, I’m gonna come,” He’s breathing out as his mouth finally pulls from your chest, one of his arms is wrapping itself around your waist, pressing you into his chest, the other rests on the back of your head, bringing your face to his neck where you start peppering kisses as he takes control, “So fuckin’ tight, and those pretty sounds you make in my ear, I’m close.” 

He’s fucking up into you now. You’re so wet you can hear him sliding in and out of your pussy, the feeling of his balls slapping against your skin with every upward thrust just another added stimulant in what proves to be an orgasm that catches you by surprise. 

As you’re moaning Joel’s name into his neck and clenching around him, you’re vaguely aware that he’s moaning your own, pulling your body off his cock as he spurts thick ropes of cum across your inner thighs. You stay still, listening to the sounds of your combined heaving breaths before he’s whispering into your ear, “That was fuckin’ close baby, didn’t wanna pull out.” 

You’re leaning back a little, pressing a kiss to his cheek, your sex-scrambled brain talks before you think, “Maybe I should go and get the pill?” 

His hands are cupping your face now, searching your eyes for evidence that you’re telling him the truth with your words, “You want that?” He asks, “Want me to be able to fill your sweet little pussy full of my cum?” 

You’re climbing off him now and shimmying down the truck bed, picking up the edge of the blanket to wipe yourself clean, “I’ve never let anyone do that before,” You admit with a shrug as he’s pulling his jeans back up around his waist, “I think I’d like it though.” 

“Well, I ain’t gonna pressure you sweetheart,” He says, following your lead in getting down from the truck bed, setting the blanket and cooler back in the truck, “But if you don’t wanna do that, might be an idea for me to start wearin’ something whilst we fuck, I’m sure as hell not wantin’ another kid right now, and I’m sure you don’t either.” 

You can’t deny that he’s right, you’ll have to think about it when you don’t have a million and one hormones running through your body telling you to scream that you just want him to bend you back over and fill you up regardless, “I’ll have a think.” You promise as he’s wrapping his arms around your waist to kiss you. 

What was supposed to be a quick peck on the lips turns into five minutes of you pressed up against the truck door, making out like horny teenagers who don’t want to say goodbye to each other. You suppose that really is what you are, just horny adults instead. 

“Come on,” He says, breathless, when he pulls from your kiss, “Let’s get you home, sweetheart.” 

Joel Miller Taglist - @winwin70@jessie8605@trulybetty@amanitacowboy@morning-star-joy@tieronecrush@leeeesahhh@babeincolor@beee-haw@kirsteng42@mirandablue1@sixxslut@impala1967dwinchester@flash2412@gimmebackmysoul@kelp-dreaming@gracie7209@voteforpedro09@brittmb115@karokaroxx@amb11@heartfairy @grumpy-the-tired @Lillilotus @doctorstatic@morallyinept@southernbe@elissaa@pop-sugar102@u-luciferssatanicdaughter@alyhull@purplerain44@harryleatherfit@lovely-ateez@emilianamason @bootyliciousposts @lorilane33 @casa-boiardi

[ninapi]

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┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Wind Pillar ╝

Premise: Days in the life of the Shinazugawa household, based on my previous story (link here).

Word Count: 3263

Note: This was requested by the lovely @yourlocalangie, “little family moments in the shinazugawa household with the reader and their children.” 🫶🏻

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A typical day in the Shinazugawa household started very early in the morning. Even before the sun got a chance to go out, Sanemi, his wife and the children would be on their way down the mountain with a cart full of goodies.

Over the years the farm had grown quite a bit.

Mia and her husband had babies and now your chicken coop is full to the brim with lovely birds and delicious eggs for your family and the towns people.

The milk from your farm was considered the hottest item in the market, getting a consistent queue of customers since very early in the morning, creating a high demand.

After an intense morning of sales, the Shinazugawa family heads back to their farm for a well deserved home cooked meal.

The afternoons were particularly busy, since they would all go to the market together, the rest of the work had to be done after lunch.

"Sanehiko, you're on milk duty, make sure they at least fill two of the big jugs."

"On it father." Sanehiko, the eldest of the lot was the most invested in the family business. He learned from his mother from a very young age how to tend the animals and get the milk from the cows, being the best at it in the family. He thoroughly enjoys working on the fields as well, always looking for a way to help with the crops and making sure everything was in order, out of all of them he was the most responsible and down to earth, being the eldest had a big impact in his way of living, much like young Sanemi he is constantly thinking of the wellbeing of his family and does his best to support his parents.

"Genma, you're in charge of picking the best tomatoes to sell tomorrow. Water your mother's herbs when you're done."

"Yes father!" Genma was the sweetest of them all, always wanting to please his mother and father alike. Sanemi was forever jealous at the fact that he was a momma's boy, he reminds him so much of Genya he wishes he would look up to him the way his brother used to do, but his mother is softer and prettier, of course anyone would choose her instead, he would do too.

"Remi, help your mother separate the black from the red berries and put them in the different baskets. If you behave, I might show you the third form." His only daughter was the closest to him, she inherited his spirit and even if she's not even three yet she begs her father to teach her his wind breathing techniques, days he decides to indulge her even the tiniest bit are the happiest around the house.

"(Y/N) you concentrate on the marmalade and watching Senri, I'll take care of the rest there is to do around in the fields and pick up the eggs." reaching over for your husband, you placed a soft kiss to his lips, nodding at his instructions. You were still very much pregnant and doing more than that would be harsh on your body. Patting your bum lovingly, he rolled his sleeves up and headed back to work.

"Mma this!" Remi was diligently following her father's instructions, pulling a berry that wasn’t ripe out and showing it to you in her tiny hand. "Good eye, baby. Let's put those a side ok? We don't want the marmalade to be sour." happily she set it on a plate and continued with her designated job.

No day was the same. Having a farm gave the kids the opportunity to be active and learn from their parents skills that would be useful in the future. Sanemi made sure to rotate them around the tasks, he wanted his children to grow as strong as he was and as smart as their mother, he wanted nothing but the best for them.

By the end of the day they were all tired and ready for bed as early as the sun would set that day.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Sundays were off. It didn't matter how much work was pending in the farm, how many eggs the chickens lay that morning, how much money they made that week, nothing mattered. Days off were important for the Shinazugawas.

Sanemi didn't get much time to lay around with his youngest since he is always so busy, but Sundays were normally deemed 'Senri day'.

Today though, he had slightly different plans.

You just finished bathing Remi and Senri when you heard Genma squealing like a little piglet.

"Genma get your ass here right now!"

Your husband sounded pissed. He rarely yells at the children, no matter how angry he was.

"Mother!!! Help me!! Father has gone crazy!! MOTHER!!!" his cries for help made you run outside your house, just to see your husband chasing your child around the fields with a sharp knife in his hand.

"Shinazugawa Sanemi. What on earth are you doing?" the child crashed against your leg, hiding behind it. If there was someone who could save him, that would be you.

"Tch." he was forced to stop running by your deep angry mother glare, "I just wanted to give him a haircut, love. Don't know why he's running away like a freak. Did you see him run? How is he faster than me? He's five, this makes no sense."

The four Shinazugawa children took after their father in their physical strengths. Sanehiko could lift a grown pig up since he was four. Genma had super speed, apparently. Remi had his blood thirst and Senri broke Sanehiko's finger when he was just three months old.

You brought Genma up into your arms, looking into his terrified eyes. "What's wrong, baby? Why aren't you letting your father cut your hair? You can't even see of how long it is."

"He....wanted to shave the sides of my head...." the child buried his face on your chest seeking for comfort, this always irritated Sanemi. He understands he is still young and that’s completely normal, but nobody but him and maybe Senri should be allowed to do that. Being jealous of his own children was a new low for the pillar.

"Stop being such a cry baby. I will do it whether you want it or not, I'm your father I do whatever the hell I want."

"Seems like you enjoyed sleeping out by the kitchen, darling." all trace of color drained from Sanemi's face instantly.

"B-babe....let's talk this out, ok? I just wanted to give him a haircut, you know he needs one." and he did, but you didn't like the way he was speaking to the child.

"Why are you shaving his head though? He looks so cute with his long hair." you were peppering soft kisses all over his little face, making him giggle.

By now Sanemi was sitting on the floor beside you, heaving out a long defeated sigh. "My brother...he had his hair like that. I guess I miss him."

"Oh my love...." setting your child down, you embraced your crestfallen husband, kissing the side of his face. "I know you see your brother in Genma, but you gotta remember he's your son and he is just five. Running after him with a knife in your hand isn't considered bonding."

"Father. It’s ok, you can shave my head. I don't like that sad face you're making." he brought Genma into a strong embrace and you all remained like that for a while. He missed Genya dearly, but having you around was more than he deserved.

"Remi too, Remi too!!!" your little girl jumped on Sanemi's back, nuzzling his neck with her little nose.

Sanehiko was holding Senri, confused by the knot of people before him. "What's going on?"

"Just come here, dammit." he settled for leaving Senri in your arms and gently nestle himself on your side, one of his hands holding one of his father's.

The Shinazugawa household was warm and full of understanding.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After a well deserved break, your husband was now getting into your shared futon ready for a good night sleep.

He loved caressing your enlarged belly, there was nothing he enjoyed more than seeing you carrying his babies, knowing you had a part of him inside of you. He would always fall asleep while tracing patterns on your tummy, face pressed on the side of your neck.

Maybe it was the emotional afternoon your family had, maybe it was the long walk up the hill from the day before. The reason was unknown to you but a sharp pain on your lower half alerted your sleepy husband.

“(Y/N) what’s wrong?”

“Is coming Nemi.” as if on cue, your water broke all over your freshly laundered covers.

“What do you mean is coming? Isn’t it too early? Fuck, what do we do now? Can you wait until I go call the midwife?” he already knew the answer to that question, your body was moving on its own into a good position to deliver the baby.

“Can’t do. We gotta do this on our own, I’ve done it four times already and you’ve been there for every single one of them, we know what to do.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind (Y/N)? What if there’s complications? Senri gave you a hard time.” he was panicking now, removing the covers completely to give you more space, “Hell, you haven’t even finished waving the basket, where is the baby going to sleep?”

“SANEHIKO.” the contractions were heavy, painful, one right after the other, you needed a cool headed person around while your husband hyperventilated in a corner of the room.

“Yes, mother?” the child had already gone to bed, but was still awake thankfully, coming to your aid instantly.

“The baby is coming my love, you know what to do right?” the child nodded making his way over to the kitchen, returning not long after with clean cloths and water.

“Take Senri, we need his basket. Remember, don’t come out of the room until I go look for you, no matter what you hear. This goes for the rest of the gang too, keep an eye on all of them.” Sanemi’s anxiety driven self was finally grasping reality, just in time.

It was now just the two of you in your room. The same room you and your brother were born in, the same room where your four children came to this world. “We can do this, love.” Sanemi held your hand as tight as he could getting in between your legs as you started pushing your fifth child out. Thankfully there were no complications, the child came out fast and with minimal effort, more than ready to come out and meet her family.

Sanemi was ecstatic when he saw his baby girl for the first time as the adrenaline rush was finally settling down. He somehow thought he’d have another boy; it was a pleasant surprise. He was so into it that even forgot he had to clip the cord, almost dragging you out with him when he pulled the baby close to his chest. She looked just like you, his beautiful little treasure.

After cleaning you and the baby, Sanemi set the child on his son’s basket, wrapped into a little cocoon where she slept peacefully tired of the whole adventure.

“How are you feeling, baby? You did such a good job. You’re a pro at this now you have my respect I could never do that, specially not now that I saw it so up close, that shit's not for the weak. I knew I picked the right wife.” this made you giggle, pulling your husband in for cuddles. You probably needed space but all you wanted was to be in his arms.

“I feel less heavy. A bit sore though.” he was rubbing circles onto the side of your hip trying his best to relieve the pain even if it was just a little.

“Do you want me to call the kids in? I can take Sae to them so you can rest some more.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I can handle Remi jumping on me right now.” you both chuckled, staring dreamily into each other’s eyes.

The children were overwhelmed with how cute their little sister was, Genma was particularly over the moon as he wasn’t the only one with dark hair any longer.

Sanemi explained to the kids that their mother needed to rest just like when Senri was born, they needed to behave, be gentle and stay out of troubles. But even after his father’s speech, Genma managed to sneak out of the room quietly and was now kneeling by your side.

“Mother, is your belly ok? Do you need belly rubs?” his sweet little voice was music to your ears, his gentle nature was truly a gift.

“I would love that, sweetie. But does your father know you’re here?” the child swallowed hard seemingly nervous but opted for ignoring the question and go straight to work, gently massaging your sore belly. “I will go to bed in a bit, just thought you might need belly rubs.” he looked like a little delinquent now that his father styled his hair with such a fashion forward design, it was the cutest thing in this world.

“Thank you, baby. You’re the best.” sitting up slightly, you gave your toddler a good night kiss, sending him his way before anyone noticed.

Sanemi noticed of course, but he didn’t say anything, he knew his son, he was probably just making sure his mother was still alive after the deafening screams heard all over the house during the birthing process.

He took Sae back to your room, leaving Senri to share his eldest brother bedding arrangements for the night to give you some extra time to finish the second basket the next day.

Finally going back to your side, Sanemi nearly collapsed on top of you, proud of the evening accomplishments but as tired as one can be, it never even crossed his mind he would help deliver his own child, it was an insane experience. “So how does it feel being the father of five children?” teasing your man was fun, especially when he was this tired, he gets way softer.

“Makes me want to put another one inside of that delicious looking-“

“SANEMI!” he bursts out laughing, burying his face on your hair.

“Just saying... Feels pretty good though. You know I come from a very large family, it feels great having all this tiny loud brats running around, makes me feel complete. You’ve given me so much…”

You were dozing off on his chest, placing a kiss on it before closing your eyes, “I would give you the world, my love.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Being a parent to five children was not easy.

The age gap wasn’t as helpful now a days. When Genma was born Sanehiko was already old enough to understand what was happening. But having three children in a row was taking a toll both physically and mentally on you and your husband.

Remi was difficult to handle, always so full of energy. Senri was still just a little baby but was currently learning how to walk on his own, accidents following his every step. And Sae was milking the life out of you, her appetite was like no other.

You were tired and so was Sanemi.

Even the market stall had to go on a little break, this didn’t happen when Senri was born. He’s always been a quiet baby, would sleep most of his day. But Sae was always hungry and would constantly ask to be fed.

Sanehiko was deemed Senri’s guardian, while Sanemi held onto Remi for dear life majority of the day. The farm still needed to be tended to and you would have to go back to the market soon or the goods would be lost. Genma was tasked as your moral support or how Sanemi liked to call it ‘your servant’, he was in charge of making sure his mother had everything she needed, so he would go on fluffing your pillow every few minutes, bring you water, rub your belly, help you hold his sister while you changed her. He was a big help regardless of what the others said.

“Nii-nii look.” Remi would run over to the house to show her brother the vegetables she picked, the bugs she found, she even brought an egg, her hair littered with feathers making you giggle at the mental image of your husband trying to catch his daughter and chase her out of the coop. She’s always been given easy tasks as she’s still very little, but she was now helping her father with the farm, it made her feel important.

Genma knew she was taunting him, but he was where he wanted to be, there was nothing he’d rather do than to help his mother and new sister to be comfortable and well, he was a man now, the Shinazugawa are strong, he got this under control.

You were dozing off while feeding your daughter, Genma already snoozing on your lap, when you heard tiny feet running in your direction. You could see Remi on Sanemi’s shoulders picking corn in the fields from the window, this could only mean one thing.

“Senri, is that you?” a tiny hand was holding onto the doorframe, supporting his own weight. His brother was supposed to be watching him, but your children all take after their father, you knew Sanehiko wasn’t at fault, it was most likely Senri who sneaked out.

“Come here, my love.” he lets go of the door stumbling clumsily into your arms, “Did you miss me? I sure miss you, my baby boy. It's time for your nap, isn’t it?” he was climbing onto you, stepping on Genma’s hand in the process but very diligently skipping over his newborn sister as if afraid of hurting her.

In under a minute, you could hear your restless son lifting things around the house, scrambling in fear. “Sanehiko, he’s here baby.” a tuft of white hair was now peaking from outside the window, he didn’t want his parents to notice he lost a brother but got caught regardless. He was panting, face covered in sweat, “He disappeared so quickly mother, I swear I just looked to the side for a second and he was gone.”

“I know sweetie, I know. Why don’t you come here and rest with us for a while? We all need a nap.” That was a tempting offering, he was tired that was a fact. Having to look after his little brother, while being constantly awoken at night by a crying baby was a bit too much for a nine-year-old. He nestled on your side, giving you some extra support on the arm that was holding your daughter. Quickly falling asleep like the rest of the gang, face comfortably pressed on your shoulder.

Sanemi had picked up some of your lavender for tea, hopefully that would get you to sleep better. He was about to announce his plan when he saw more than half of his family sprawled on the floor, enjoying an afternoon nap, the sun beams coming through the window were shinning on the beautiful face of his darling wife the love of his life, and his offspring.

His youngest toddler was dozing off on his head, her arms now dangling to the sides of his face. Seems like everyone had the same idea.

He put her down on her eldest brother lap, and she curled on your side immediately, holding Sanehiko’s arm like a pillow. Sanemi went on your other side, cradling you, Genma, and Senri to his chest, letting out a content sigh out and kissing your forehead softly trying not to wake you up.

His life could be chaotic and had been quite challenging over the years, but once he found his happy place, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in this universe, and that was you.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Tagged babes: @doumadono

Master list Next Chapter

[another-lost-mc]

hello jes!~ could you do some short headcanon for solomon x reader x simeon who struggles with art block and frustrated about it? i was feeling down because of it because in the time i was improving i had reasons to stop it temporarily but unfortunately i have been struggling with it 😞

When MC Has a Creative Block Headcanons & Short Fic | SIMEON x gn!Reader x SOLOMON 2.3k words | SFW | Established Relationship | Fluff & Humor | Flirting

COMFORT

It doesn’t take long for Simeon and Solomon to recognize the signs that you're struggling with some sort of creative block.

You're hunched over your desk, making soft, frustrated noises more often while you mutter quietly under your breath. You toss your materials aside so carelessly, which is so unlike the care you normally give them.

Simeon understands all too well what it feels like to be in a creative slump, and he might be the first to notice. He mentions it to Solomon quietly, because it’s important to both of them that this doesn't interfere with your ability to take care of yourself.

If you’re struggling that much, don’t worry - they’re going to help you with whatever you need, even if their concern feels a little suffocating at times.

Be prepared for lectures and very manipulative puppy eyes to get you to listen to whatever they’re suggesting. They really want what’s best for you, even if it’s hard for you to admit it.

Staying up late isn’t going to help you feel better. They’re both leading you to bed, each of them holding one of your hands. They’ll keep you company if you like, cuddled against your sides while they murmur quietly about how talented you are, and how lucky they are to have you, and maybe after a good night’s sleep you can try working again tomorrow.

Skipping meals and eating rushed snacks isn’t going to help you either. Simeon insists that he doesn't need Solomon’s help in the kitchen, and he makes sure you're fed lovingly home-cooked meals. Solomon visits your favourite Devildom and human world shops to find the comfort foods and snacks you like most, and they both make sure you keep hydrated.

Solomon might not be allowed in the kitchen, but Simeon will be sending him to the market for ingredients. If it’s a nice day, Solomon will insist with wide, pleading eyes that you join him for the walk and keep him company. You won’t have to carry any of the bags, but he’ll loop them all on one arm so he can hold your hand with the other.

He might buy you a special treat at Madam Scream’s, and he'll look so pleased when you offer to share it during the walk back to Purgatory Hall, but don’t tell Simeon, okay?

DISTRACTION

Once they know your basic needs are taken care of, Simeon and Solomon are going to distract you from your frustrations any way they can.

They don’t want you to stay cooped up in the House of Lamentation or Purgatory Hall where you're more likely to fall into self-deprecating moods. They don't like it when you think badly of yourself. It's not your fault.

Solomon will take you shopping with him when he picks up more alchemy ingredients or other supplies for his experiments. Simeon enjoys visiting the markets and bookstores, and he’ll find excuses to go more often so that you’ll keep him company.

Both of them offer to buy you small trinkets or gifts, spoiling you unashamedly if you let them.

Don't be surprised when they sweep you away on romantic date nights: dinner at your favourite restaurant, coffee and dessert at the café you like, or maybe a movie if there’s something playing that you want to see.

There are a lot of beautiful places in the three realms for you to explore. They always have somewhere new to show you: a museum or an art gallery you've never visited, or something wondrous in nature - anywhere that will distract you from what’s bothering you.

They hope spending your time exploring new places, with them, might inspire you. If not, at least you all have new photos and souvenirs to commemorate your adventures together.

When the weather is nice, expect them to invite you on lots of walks together. Simeon says he wants to practice his photography skills, but it’s really just an excuse. When Solomon makes you laugh at some corny joke he makes, they both stare at how radiant you under the Devildom moonlight.

(Later, Solomon will demand copies of all the photos Simeon takes of you, no matter how blurry or out of focus they are.)

They’ll do anything or go anywhere you want, so long as you’re together.

If you try to thank them later for taking care of you, they'll insist it's not necessary - they love you, and it's only natural to want to take care of you.

INSPIRATION

When you insist that you’ve had enough of a self-care break and want to try working on your art again, their next goal is to try and inspire you.

Simeon might offer his latest manuscript draft for you to read - it wouldn’t be the first time something he’s written has motivated you to create something new and wonderful.

Solomon will ask for your help with his magical experiments - nothing dangerous, of course, but ones that he thinks you’ll enjoy. Some of the spells or potions he uses can be visually stunning, and the way he manipulates magic so easily is truly a sight to behold.

You don’t realize that it’s almost like a competition between Simeon and Solomon to see who inspires you the most.

If you’re going through a particularly nasty creative block, their methods of trying to give you new inspiration - while competing for your attention - can be quite…interesting.

You were sitting with Simeon in the sitting room of Purgatory Hall. He read to you quietly while you rested your head in his lap and stretch out comfortably on the sofa. He stroked your cheek affectionately whenever he paused to turn the page.

It was a relaxing, lazy afternoon and you’re on day twelve of avoiding your art studio like the plague. Luke was at the Demon Lord’s castle with Barbatos, and Solomon was finishing some sort of experiment in his room. 

“We should make lunch soon,” Simeon murmured quietly when he finished another chapter.

“One more?” you asked quietly, opening your eyes and smiling at him. The cadence of his voice was so soothing.

“Of course, my love,” he said warmly, leaning down to brush his lips against your brow. He enjoyed these quiet moments with you. He didn’t mind the arrangement he had with Solomon where they both shared your time and affections, but sometimes he craved intimacy with only the two of you.

He started reading again and you closed your eyes so you could let the words draw you into the story. A few minutes later you heard the quiet sound Solomon’s door opening further down the hall. Simeon's voice suddenly broke off into a stuttering cough and it jostled you unpleasantly. You turned your head to see what the problem was, and your cheeks burned at the sight.

Solomon had just walked through the sitting room doorway wearing nothing but a pair of black, tight-fitting boxer briefs. He stopped a few feet away from the sofa and stretched his arms above his head, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“See anything you like, darling? Am I inspiring you yet?” he asked nonchalantly. It was hard not to grin when he started striking statuesque poses like some sort of hero about to have his portrait done.

Solomon pouted when you shook your head, even though you told him you appreciated the effort. You admired the view, of course, but his body wasn’t quite enough to tease your artistic drive back into action. It was hard not to stare at him though; his chest, back, and arms were covered in runes and pact marks. You liked to study them sometimes, tracing the patterns on his skin with your fingertips (or your tongue).

Solomon was determined not to give up, and he waggled his eyebrows at you when he leaned against the armchair very dramatically.

Simeon set his book on the coffee table while you hid your bubbling laughter behind your hand. “Oh, go and put your clothes back on,” he told the wizard, pinching the bridge of his nose warily. “Besides, I already tried that earlier today and it didn’t work,” he grumbled under his breath.

While Simeon and Solomon bickered back and forth (something about my body, my choice and the implication that a certain angel might be jealous), you looked at the sorcerer again with a critical eye. You noticed there was something captivating about the way the candlelight danced along Solomon’s skin. The marks he wore almost seemed to come to life, like he was wrapped in metaphorical vines binding him to powers beyond his own. 

“Wait,” you said quickly when Solomon finally turned to go back to his room, shoulders slumped in defeat. You sat up and slid off the sofa, kneeling on the floor and patting the carpet in front of you. “Can you lay down for me?”

Solomon's mood flipped in an instant, and he beamed at you as he rushed to do as you asked. He lay down in front of you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye and winked. “Darling, just say the word and I’ll lay down for you anywhere you like.”

“Unbelievable,” Simeon muttered behind you.

You ran your hands over his chest and stomach, noticing the slightly bumpy texture where some of the pact marks overlapped each other. Solomon’s belly was a little ticklish and he kept squirming away from your fingers. You had an idea, but it wouldn’t work like this.

“Here,” you said quietly when you placed your hand on his side and nudged him, “lay on your stomach, okay?”

He rolled over easily, resting his head on his arms and sighing happily. “Are you going to give me a massage? Oh, that sounds lovely, my dear.”

He turned his head and smirked at the sulking angel on the couch, who wore an impressive frown while he crossed his arms over his chest. “Simeon, did you hear that? I’m going to get a massage from our darling.”

You and Simeon both spoke at once.

“This isn’t a massage,” you tried to tell him with a slightly exasperated tone.

“I’ll massage your face with my foot if you don’t stop talking,” Simeon growled.

Solomon wiggled happily on the carpet, ignoring Simeon’s frosty expression and looking at you with such fondness it made your cheeks warm all over again.

Shameless old flirt.

You turned around and patted Simeon’s knee gingerly. “Can you get my markers for me?”

Simeon snapped out of the angry trance he was in and blinked at you in surprise. When he realized what you asked for, he clasped your hand in his and squeezed. This was the first time in over a week since you even wanted to touch your supplies. He didn't want to ruin this for you, even if it meant putting up with certain juvenile sorcerers.

“Of course, I’ll be right back.” He stood up and stepped over Solomon, accidentally kicking his side with his shoe, and went to the spare room where you had your own little studio space.

When Simeon returned, you were straddling Solomon’s thighs and leaning over his back to examine some of his runes more closely. You held out our hand in Simeon’s direction, eyes focused on a clump of pacts and sigils near the base of Solomon’s neck. “Can you pass me the orange marker?”

Simeon looked through your marker kit. There were numerous orange-ish markers inside, but he knew which orange was your favourite - you told him once it reminded you of Asmo’s eyes. He handed it to you and watched curiously when you started colouring the gaps between the overlapping symbols on Solomon’s back.

“This is even better than a massage,” the wizard said with a laugh, delighted that you were feeling creative again. “Am I going to be your next masterpiece?”

“No, but it dawned on me just now that this would look so amazing with more colour,” you told him honestly.  Part of you wondered why you never thought of doing this sooner. You sat up and motioned to Simeon to pass you your marker kit so you could find a different colour; you dug through the case with renewed excitement.

Simeon sat across from you on the other side of Solomon’s body and smirked when Solomon's head turned to face him. “How does it feel to be a glorified colouring book?” he asked teasingly. "Next time I should just go to the bookstore and you can keep your clothes on, hm?"

“Now, now, Simeon, jealousy isn’t becoming of an angel—ow!” Solomon exclaimed when Simeon took one of your markers and poked him in the ribs with it to shut him up.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, with periods of quiet tranquility interrupted by your two lovers trading half-hearted insults, and you coloured Solomon’s back like it was a blank canvas.

When you finally sat up, Solomon looked transformed; the harsh lines on his back were softened by a kaleidoscope of colour. The very same marks that used to intimidate you before looked enticingly beautiful now - much like the sorcerer himself.

You took some photos with your D.D.D. and showed them to Simeon, who looked at the pictures over your shoulder with a proud, sappy smile on his face. “Everything you make is always stunning, my love.” He nuzzled his nose against your cheek and kissed your forehead, happy to see you in your element once more.

“Hey, I want to see too!” Solomon said impatiently, trying to lift his head and look over his shoulder to examine how you turned his skin into a work of art.

You rubbed his back gently to quiet him, and you glanced at Simeon shyly, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. “You know, I think I might still have some inspiration left.”

Simeon’s eyes darkened slightly and he didn't waste any time. He rose to his feet, pulling you up by your hand and led you towards his bedroom. He didn’t spare Solomon a single glance.

“Shouldn’t we help him first?” you asked, nodding your head back towards your beloved sorcerer. He was so relaxed on the plush carpet that he didn't even realize both of you were nearly out of the room and walking through Simeon’s bedroom doorway.

“Don’t worry, he can tidy up on his own before he joins us,” Simeon said loudly over his shoulder for Solomon’s benefit.

“That’s very rude of you, Simeon!” Solomon yelled back when he tried to get up, but his legs were tingly with sleep from laying in one position for too long. He managed to pull himself up to his knees, and the last thing he saw was Simeon’s smug grin before the bedroom door slammed shut.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #20 – Foundryside by Robert Jackson Bennett

I’ve in theory been a big fan of Bennett for a couple years now, having adored American Elsewhere when I read it. I say ‘in theory’ because I had not actually followed that up by reading any of his other stuff until I happened to see him doing an AMA on r/fantasy and was jolted to go put something of his on hold. The most convenient option was Foundryside so, here we are.

The story follows Sancia, a former slave-turned-magical-experiment who now uses her rather inconveniently always-on sort of object empathy to be a really excellent thief for hire in the hopes of earning enough cash to pay some black market surgeon to make her normal again and then stay quiet about it. That price tag lures her into accepting a job for an eye-watering amount of money from what it clearly one of the merchant houses who rule the city – which she discovers to be an ancient relic, a key that can open any lock. And talk to her. And revolutionize the entire industry of enchanting upon which the city’s fortune and empire are built. She correctly assumes that there’s no way they’re planning to let her live after turning it (him) over, and things spiral out of control from there.

It’s fundamentally a heist story, with all the main action setpieces being about breaking into places and stealing things. And like all good heist stories, the protagonists are totally incapable of winning through anything like brute force, and have to be clever bastards about it – sneaking past guards, not slaughtering them in the night. Those heist sequences are all vividly described and just a lot of fun, almost worth the price of admission on their own.

So this is the rare story where calling it ‘magipunk’ is both accurate and helpful. Which is to say, it is almost literally a cyberpunk story translated into the idiom of vaguely-early-modern fantasy city states instead of corporate arcologies. Scheming oligarchs, overmighty corporate states, miraculous technologies that are only felt by the underclass as news ways of being oppressed and objectified, the works. The most triumphant and hopeful part of the ending involves the founding of a worker’s coop that doesn’t get immoderately crushed. Notably useful and plot-relevant enchanted items include a listening device, trackers, and a powered gliding rig. It’s only when you really get into it that the magic starts feeling at all magical, is what I’m saying – you could translate almost all of this into Cyberpunk 2020 terms in a couple of hours. I think it’s quite fun.

Sancia’s whole backstory – a slave on one of the plantations supplying the city with food and spices, taken as a subject for bloody experimentation in creating perfectly obedient magical cyborgs, surviving and escaping because they got sloppy with occult grammar and reality interpreted ‘be like object’ as ‘be like [INSERT NEAREST OBJECT HERE]’ – is fun on a few different levels. The story definitely leans into a running theme of the reduction of the powerless and subordinate to literal objects and tools wielded by those who control them, both metaphorically and literally. But also there’s an absolutely great beat where she’s explaining her story to the rest of the main cast who are all horrified and disgusted that anyone would do such a thing. To which she reacts very angrily and goes ‘you know that isn’t, like, worse than the whole rest of the chattel slave economy, right? More people get horribly tortured to death as part of everyday operations than creepy magical experiments?”

Sancia as a character is just a lot of fun to spend time in the head of, honestly. Her relationship with Clef (the magical key, the more literal example of being objectified and insturmentalized by one’s masters) is the core dynamic of the first ~half of the book, and it absolutely carries it. Though in the final act it then runs into the very common action/adventure story issue where she starts talking about this guy she’d known for barely a week like a life-long friend she’s shared more good times than she could count with. Entirely forgivable but like, it does stand out.

There’s this whole subtheme of, like, futile misogyny running through the text? It’s never explicitly brought up, and the only character whose actually vocally sexist on the page is the asshole philistine moneygrubbing abusive husband wannabe-coupist you’re clearly supposed to hate. But it’s a repeatedly mentioned point that the culture of enchanting grew significantly more patriarchal in the previous generation (for unstated reasons, possibly just the one epoch-defining genius being a misogynistic ass) and that this was very bad for the career prospects of several major characters. Despite this, important women in the story include a) half the main cast, b) the only competent and attentive head of any of the four merchant houses and c) the enchanting-prodigy wife of aforementioned sexist asshole who turns out to have been feeding him every useful idea he ever had until she could kill him and scoop up everything he’s gathered. This is one of those things that amuses me because it’s clearly deliberate but is never directly mentioned.

This is also one of those books that’s queer rep not in the revolutionary groundbreaking it’s-a-core-part-of-the-tezt way, but in the ‘wow isn’t it great how normal and unremarkable queer representation is now?’ way. Like, Sancia is gay, which is one of remarkably few things about herself she never expresses a single moment of angst, anger or self-doubt about, and she has the sort of C-plot romance subplot every adventure story is obligated to (right down to agreeing to go out for a drink if she survives the last big heist), but with a woman. Her sexuality otherwise basically doesn’t matter. When people ask for queer SFF book recommendations I’m never sure if offering stuff like this is missing the point or exactly what’s desired.

As mentioned, the only other book of Bennett’s I’ve read is American Elsewhere. Which was an absolutely horrible way to set my expectations going into this. Foundryside is fun adventure fantasy, but it has far fewer literary pretensions. The prose is incredibly readable – it’s absolutely a page turner – but that’s basically all it aspires to be. Elsewhere had several different passages I stopped and reread just for the pleasure of it, Foundryside I went back and reread only when I skimmed past some important detail and got confused.

But it’s a really fun fantasy heist story, and the sequel promises to be about a rampant artificial intelligence clockwork djinn which turned against the ancients who made her. So I’m sure I’ll get to it sooner rather than latter.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

how does blanche pay his bills 😔😔

no fr tho where does this guy earn money ??

Tw: gore, violence

Despite having a mostly vegetarian diet, Blanche is scarily good at butchering animals, especially mammals. He knows where all the joints are, the right places to cut, and the correct technique to extract all the pieces whole. You thought that he obtained his skills from eating his chickens, but he would rather let them die from natural causes than slaughter them himself. It was rather strange to see him opening up a bag of store-bought raw chicken whenever you told him you were craving for some, while you knew he owns a coop full of those noisy fuckers a few minutes walk away.

He has no qualms about killing and butchering rabbits if you're craving for them. Blanche sees them as pests, munching on his precious lettuces and cabbages, it is scary how he has no hesitation while impaling those fuzzy little creatures with a kitchen knife. You wouldn't know this fact without having a suitable personality for it; as in, you will have to be cold and uncaring towards cute critters in general. If you have a big heart and a tendency to cry when living beings are hurt, you wouldn't know Blanche is a bunny killer.

Similarly, if your humanity is still intact, you wouldn't know that he is a serial killer and an organ harvester. The victims that he didn't beat into a bloody pulp are cut up into individual pieces and have their organs prepared and preserved in wet ice. Blanche's knowledge isn't only localized to creative endeavors or gardening, he also has a deep reservoir containing all things biology. Especially humans. He also has a good grasp of the value of organs in the black market, negotiating with his usually desperate or depraved customers to give him the highest payout possible.

How he sells them is interesting to learn; he would sell them through the internet. Blanche is well-versed with this shiny new modern toy enough to evade authorities for decades. Those who tried to trick him and lure Blanche into a trap were turned into piles of fresh organs for him to sell. And there is no shortage of those idiots who tried to best Blanche at his own game. Well, it isn't really a game, all he wanted was to make some extra cash for him to spend on you. He isn't in it for the power, notoriety, or anything.

Back then, he would have done his business through word of mouth, or even through phone calls. Getting a solid customer base was much harder but easier to hide from the law since Blanche had a lot more experience in pre-internet days. But he has enough luck and skill to become famous yet undetectable in cyberspace.

He understands his market very well. The majority of his sales come from patients who are willing to do anything it takes to get that transplant, but there is a handful who buy them for personal consumption. Blanche would sell organs that aren't as fresh or somewhat diseased to the former, as they're desperate enough to take almost anything. Cannibals would normally demand the best quality, Blanche isn't one to complain. They have the funds to afford them.

All this while you thought he earned his money through back-breaking hard work from his youth. You asked him what he did for a living back then, he described a life with no fun, only becoming a slave to his numerous employers, doing jobs that are as menial as paperwork, or as life-threatening as hacking a tree with a blunt axe until it falls. It made sense how he has this much money until now, it sounded like he doesn't even go home to sleep, eat or sleep. He does that at whatever workplace he was in at the time.

While there are some truths to that, he cannot deny that his organ harvesting business was what bought him the comfortable and romantic lifestyle he could only dream of achieving in his early years. He wasted away years being tormented by constant work, but that wasn't what allowed him to garden, knit and bake freely to his heart's content. Blanche's horrific crimes did.

[vaultie-and-theghoul]

You Never Told Me Your Name

Cooper had to fish the cloth out of the Vaultie's mouth once they got back to camp. Lucy was dead to the world but her heart was still thumping loudly. One whiff of the filthy cloth and he knew she'd been drugged.

"God damnit," Cooper yelled in frustration, wading up the rag and throwing it into the fire. The humor of Lucy once again making a special of herself had worn off the second he realized she wasn't just knocked out. Drugs out here in the wasteland were volatile on a good day. Who the hell knew how much that idiot merc gave her?

Dogmeat whined from his place by Lucy's side, "I know, boy. I'm worried too." Cooper was beating himself up for not checking before the trek back to camp. Anger burned in his gut both towards himself and his little Vaultie.

What the hell had she been thinking? If only Cooper had a chance to tell her they were being followed. He had only noticed after they got to the market, another slip-up in Cooper's book. He considered leaving Lucy and dogmeat and going it alone again, but only for a moment. The thought alone had him on the verge of dry heaving. He's been alone for so long. Most people wouldn't give a ghoul the time of day, much less look at him the way his Vaultie had.

Cooper's head snapped to the side when he heard a groan from the woman on the ground. Dogmeat got to his feet, sniffing Lucy up and down. Another yip from the dog indicated he found nothing wrong. Good. She must be waking up now.

"'bout damn time Vaultie," Cooper's voice had come out thick and harsh. Maybe his anger at them was stronger than he'd like to admit.

"What," the word slurred from Lucy's full lips as she tried to sit up. She groaned again, clutching her head tightly and burying them between her knees, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Some anger melted away as Cooper helped Lucy through the worst of her vertigo. He had retied her hair so she wouldn't vomit on it and while Lucy was recovering, Coop set out the purified water and crackers he had nabbed at the market. Both of those things were high-price items nowadays and he never splurged before.

The Ghoul kept his mouth shut while the Vaultie took her sweet time recovering. Cooper knew he shouldn't be this pissed at Lucy, but god damn it, she could have died or worse gotten kidnapped. The thought alone had him kicking an old rusty can as hard as possible.

"I'm sorry," Lucy whispered from her spot slumped on the ground, "You told me not to bring attention to myself but I did anyway. It's just that I heard him talking about you and dogmeat."

"You think I didn't know I was being tailed," Cooper snapped, turning to face her, "Mercs don't typically confront you in the middle of a crowd sweetheart. Course a Vaultie like you wouldn't know that shit."

"Why are you so angry with me," the tears in his Vaultie's big eyes cooled some of his anger, not his fear.

"Why didn't you call out for me when that fucker attacked you," Cooper said, voice far softer than he intended. Realizing the true cause of his anger hit him like a ton of bricks. The Ghoul cursed under his breath and went to sit next to Lucy by the campfire.

"I wanted to," Lucy said, fire reflecting in her eyes, "I tried, but... I only know you by 'The Ghoul'. You never told me your name. I just didn't know what to call out."

Once again his chest ached, recognizing that this was his fault. Seemed like ol' Coop couldn't stop messing up when it came to Miss Lucy MacLean. Perhaps the duo aren't so different after all. the Ghoul had found someone he could trust for the first time in centuries.

"M'names Cooper," His name feeling foreign in his mouth, "Now, I'm sure you've got a whole slew of questions for me. I'm feeling particularly chatty tonight, so best take advantage."

The Vaultie's eyes lit up, white teeth pulling at her bottom lip. Without skipping a beat, Lucy began listing off question after question. They went from questions about his past and how Coop had known her dad, to a few inappropriate personal questions.

"Slow down darlin'," Cooper said, laughter coming easily around her, "I was from before the war, yes. It's a long ass story, but I promise to tell you about it as we travel. Too much for tonight." The pout on his Vaulties face had a different kind of heat filling his belly. "I have suffered a lot indeed, but I just want to find my daughter. Before you ask, yes I had a wife and no It didn't end well."

Lucy was enthralled as he spoke, her eyes followed Cooper's lips as he spoke. The Vaultie even leaned into his personal space making it all the harder to concentrate. Coop considered if he should indulge her with a few answers to those more personal questions, and finally landed on fuck it.

"Now I must say I'm surprised to hear such direct words coming from that pretty mouth of yours," Cooper watched her lips part as he continued, "I can eat, drink, and shit just like you sweetheart. I can also fuck since most of your questions revolved around my physical abilities."

Despite the direct words coming from her mouth, Lucy seemed to blush easily when the same words came from his. She took in the new information and Cooper thought it might be the end of the questions for tonight. He was wrong.

"Whose finger is that," Lucy asked, and it was Cooper's turn to feel embarrassed. Course his eagle-eyed Vaultie had noticed the finger he should have been missing.

"Now I can't give away all my secrets can I," Cooper said, hoping the freely given information would be enough to stop this line of questioning. Lucy pursed her lips, twisting this way and that. Coop could practically hear the thoughts playing in her pretty little head. To push or not to push.

"Thank you for saving me, and for answering my questions," Lucy said taking a deep breath through her nose, "I still have a million more, but they can wait for now."

"Course you do sweetheart," Cooper chuckled, pushing himself off the ground, "I'm gonna do my rounds and I expect you to be fast asleep by the time I get back."

"Yes sir," Lucy said as she saluted, "I feel like I've been hit by a truck, so following orders shouldn't be so hard this time." She smiled up at him and Cooper's cold heart thumped against his chest. Damn Vaultie was going to be the end of him.

Dogmeat moved from Lucy's side to trot next to the Gho... Cooper. He gave her a quick scratch on the head before he sent the dog back to her side.

"You stay here with Lucy," Cooper said, tipping his hat and walking away. The Cowboy had rarely called her by her name, and Lucy wasn't sure If she loved or hated it. When he called her pet names, it felt like a soft satin caress, but when he said Lucy's name it sent shivers down her spine.

Lucy got ready for bed, the effort alone using what was left of her energy. She had plenty to think about and more to process, but she was grateful for Cooper's honesty. The Ghoul had finally told her his name. Cooper.

Cooper's name played on repeat in her mind as her eyes slid shut on their own accord. A smile curled on her lips as her mind reminded her of one more discovery. Cooper could participate in coitus.

'I can also fuck since most of your questions revolved around my physical abilities.'

"Sweet dreams Dogmeat," Lucy curled up on her side and let her thoughts go wild as she fell into a deep sleep.

AO3 Series Prequel

[enihk-writes]

[before the year ends]

seasonal fics : 除夕 (chú xī) / lunar new year's eve edition

paring: various!hwasan men x gn!reader

summary: things that happen on the last day of the year.

characters: chung myung (can be read as both pbss and mhdd) // chung mun // chung jin // tang bo // tang gunak // jang ilso // jin hyeon // lee songbaek // jin geumryong // baek cheon

author's note: my personal music recommendations for the day are lovers in seoul by off the menu , hot potato by n.flying , coconut love by seoulmoon , mercury by bye bye badman and t + tik tak tok by silica gel feat. So!YoON! (doing this for fun because my other hobby is looking for new music and putting them in a playlist partly because one of my teenage dreams was to open up a cd shop in an art street or own a music-vinyl brunch cafe by the seaside ugggh but you need money like do you know how expensive seaside properties are in singapore!!! i don't have that cash!!! so i have to work!!!! fuck!!!!)

CHUNG MYUNG doesn't like to be cooped up indoors during the festive period. so that afternoon he slipped out to visit the next town over, hearing about their night market and looking forward to getting drunk off his rocker before returning home. only to come face-to-face with you. to his credit he tried to divert your attention to slip away with a bold-faced lie but to be honest, he isn't very good at that. he ends up letting you tag along to buy your silence. which wasn't that bad of a decision — he found himself enjoying the private time he had with you more than he'd expected, like walking through the markets with pinkies interlocked, visiting taverns and teahouses getting mistaken for a couple to get discounts, even the passionate drunken kisses you both shared on the inn balcony which left him quite dazed. when he gets back he would have to have a talk with you about what happened here. though right now he's a little preoccupied with leaving marks all up your neck, hands under your clothes going to places he probably shouldn't, revelling in your embarrassment a little too much. thank goodness he had the foresight to rent out a room to stay in so the both of you could do whatever you wanted in here to the heart's content all night long.

CHUNG MUN watches as you scurry around the sect grounds checking in on the workers who were all preparing for the banquet that was to be held over the new year. as the sect leader he shouldn't interrupt another elder's duties, but as your husband he wanted you to pay attention to him too — it was new years eve and your spouse can't even ask for some alone time with you? you were so cruel, was this how he was to spend the last day of the year? he sighed and turned back to his papers, finishing up with his own work until it was finally time for bed. you met him in the front of your shared house, he finds himself cracking a smile when you bury your face into his chest, he walks you over to sit together on the bench, where you plop your head down on his lap, very much like a certain youngest, pouring your heart out on the annoyances that you've faced today so what has your dear husband have in mind to reward their hardworking partner? the man only chuckles at your ranting, running his fingers until you fell asleep, carrying your tired body to tuck you in bed. he looks over at your peaceful form one more time, kisses your hand and leaves for his own quarters to retire for the night.

CHUNG JIN had been pulled out from under the pile of books he's buried under to take a day off at the behest of the other elders and disciples. not knowing what to do, he hovers around your side, not really wanting to go down the mountain without a solid plan. you thought he looked a little like a lost sparrow then, so you let him stay around as you went about your day. he aided you with small tasks here and there — wasn't he supposed to be on break? old habits die hard, you supposed. he ended up helping you finish your job earlier than intended, bringing the leftovers from the kitchen along, the two of you headed down the forested path at the back of the mountain to wile away the rest of the afternoon as you ate the food and engaged in small talk about nothing in particular. the sun felt warm on your skin, and as it began to set, the sounds of the flowing stream nearby lulled the two elders into a dreamless sleep.

TANG BO stifled a laugh as he looked at your sorry state. only an idiot falls sick on new year's eve — was what he'd told you. you wanted to strangle him right then and there, never mind that he was your husband. he offered to nurse you for the day, supposedly from the kindness of his heart. bullshit. this guy had something up his sleeve, you were so sure of it. but whatever you thought he'd do never happened. your husband truly did take care of you that whole day. he'd wipe off your cold sweat, change towels, feed you food and medication on time, among other things. you thought he'd turn over a new leaf and was just about to praise him when he snickers at you again. maybe you should get sick more often, you're so much nicer when you're quiet like this. too bad for him your fingers were faster as you shove them up his nose to choke him in retaliation. fortune favours the just. the next morning you woke up feeling good as new — your fever had gone away just in time to celebrate the new year. your husband, on the other hand, didn't seem to be doing too well, seemingly catching your cold from yesterday. hmph, serves him right for teasing you like that.

TANG GUNAK could not catch a break even on new year's eve. there was always work to do, the world did not stop on holidays, after all. you slipped into the room quietly with refreshments in hand, hoping to get him to take a short break from his paperwork. the man had sharp ears — recognising the weighted rhythm of your footsteps even as you were on the far end of the hallway. he sets down his brush, getting up to greet you. my love, he'd call out softly, expertly placing away the tray in your hands. you laugh as he pulls you into his embrace, his face burrowing into your shoulder. you try to hug him back with as much vigour you could muster, pulling away just so you could place a few pecks on his face. it wasn't a very long break, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. he sipped on the tea you brewed, listening to your excited recounting of a new novel you had been reading. new years was a time to give thanks for the blessings in life, and he was more than thankful for the way your shoulder felt pressed against his arm as you two sat side by side.

JANG ILSO cared little for the festivities. he wasn't in the mood for any banquet, or party or whatever loud activity. he had been itching to do something, but he couldn't pinpoint what he wanted to do and the idea of going outside annoyed him. you didn't really know, nor cared to find out about your employer's stormy tantrum going on right at that moment. unfortunately for you, you were one of his go-to people to piss off and annoy whenever he wanted to cause trouble. your boss was a temperamental man, and you always walked on eggshells around him. little did you know that you were third on his list of people he liked, so in the off chance that you did piss him off, he wasn't going to get rid of you. not that soon or quickly anyways. he barged into your office with attendants trailing behind him with boxes of drinks, food and entertainment for that evening. he was here to bother you, if you so kindly didn't mind. most of what happened was blurry — you only remembered drinking the sweet wine, going down far too easily, possibly knocking over papers and ink all over your desk and then passing out. the next time you came to, you were in a guest bedroom near your boss' own. the hangover medicine and new clothes already laid out on the table for you. there was no way you had created a moment that your boss could hold over your head as blackmail. no, you detested the teasing that was sure to come from him in the coming year.

JIN HYEON had been out on an errand on behalf of the elders, and finally, he was going back to wudang just in time for new years. he stops by the small diner in the town next door, he often had his meals here whenever he's going out, outwardly he said it's because he liked the lotus root soup with pork ribs served with warm rice. in reality, he just wanted to find a chance to talk to you, the owner — a familiar face he had known since both of you were mere apprentices. though now you had taken over the restaurant your adoptive grandfather had left behind for you while he had risen up to the rank of a second-grade disciple. the diner was small, and the business was decent enough to make ends meet, but it wasn't so busy that you didn't have time to sit across him to have a short chat before he headed off. you asked him if he would stay and visit the night market this year. he shook his head sadly, feeling bad that he was turning down your offer yet again. you shook your disappointment off, opting to change the topic. the hour passed far too quickly, and he had to report back to the elders before night fall. you walk him towards the door, just as the wind picks up from where your back was turned, pushing you into his chest. the man takes the opportunity to pull you a little closer, accidentally placing a peck on your forehead. you didn't think he'd be this affectionate today but who cared? it was new years eve and it's been a while since he had walked you home. maybe next year you could ask him again to come with you to the night market.

LEE SONGBAEK had gone to his hometown for the new year celebrations. he had been given permission by the elders to do so, along with a good majority of the other disciples. things had been really quiet back in the sect with nobody really wanting to do anything with them. speaking of which, he hadn't seen his family in years by now, and he wondered how they were all doing. he didn't plan to spend too much time — have dinner, catch up, stay overnight and leave the next morning. he didn't expect to see that you would also be in his house, helping out with the new year's eve dinner. he could smell the dough and sesame paste drying out in the sun for the tang-yuan they'd all have later. actually, he thinks most of the village was congregated at his house. the disciples who had tagged along with him were a little taken aback at the size of the crowd, much to his embarrassment. he didn't think his village would be so stoked to have him back on new years with his sect brothers. you slipped out of the kitchen to greet him as the elders fussed over the boys that had come to visit. he leans over to greet you, feeling a small smile pull at his lips when you tousle his hair. his original plan might have been a little thwarted, but since you were here, he didn't really mind. ah, when he goes back to the sect, he should ask if the tailor was accepting any apprentices — if he were, and you came over, he might see you around more often in the coming year.

JIN GEUMRYONG wished he was anywhere else but here right now. but, as the eldest and prodigal son he should behave appropriately. he slips out of the banquet hall at the first opportunity, making shoddy excuses like needing to go to the restroom. he finds a spot in the quietest part of the estate, taking a moment to collect himself from the incessant social interaction he's had the whole day. soft footsteps approach him — really? he feels annoyed, but tries to reign back his distaste when he sees your smiling face beaming at him. go away. he tells you, not in the mood to deal with whatever you were about to drag him into. please? you'd beg, your hand pulling at his arm to get him on his feet. there was something you wanted to show him, and if he didn't go with you now, he was going to miss it! the man agreed reluctantly, letting you take him to the lake behind the hills. the night sky was clear and he could see every sparkling star in the sky. you sit on a fallen log, seemingly waiting for something to happen. he sits right by you, choosing not to question your actions. and then — there it was. the stars fell from the sky one after another, painting the night in long white painter's lines. he'd never seen anything like this in his life thus far, and he might not ever see it again. but it didn't matter. when you asked, doesn't it look amazing? he could only hum, unable to take his eyes off you all while your gaze was turned to the spectacle in the skies.

BAEK CHEON, for the life of him, can't decide which tassel he wanted to buy and ended up just getting a roll of thread in plum-blossom pink to make one on his own. the handiwork was clumsy, clearly amateurish with the bronze coin woven into the accessory. it certainly resembled the shape of a tassel — if you didn't look at the finer details too closely and for too long. you could see him look embarrassed at the quality and was already regretting giving it to you. but how could you not want his sincere gift? you loved it, flaws and all, because it was from him and you wanted to be reminded of the idea that this perfectionist still could make mistakes. you pull him down for a kiss. and then another. and another, until you were peppering his whole face in kisses because your heart couldn't handle this gap in his personality. your poor love, look at how red his face had become. he didn't know whether to be happy that you liked his gift this much, or feel shy at the public show of affection in a place where everyone in the sect could possibly see? you can't help but snicker mischievously as you skipped away from the scene — leaving the poor boy in a flustered mess.

[enosai]

I have been playing Fields of Mistria for about 100 hours so far, so here are some of my thoughts.

(no idea if any of my ideas are already going to be implemented or not)

CHARACTERS:

What I liked: every character feels and looks different. So far no romance-able option has given me the ick and are all pleasant. 

What I would add:

Have non-romance-able NPC’s have heart events at 2, 4,6,8 and 10 hearts. 

Celine should sell forageable seeds, but at a steep price and a limited stock. Unlocked by an event or enough hearts.

FARMING:

What I liked: Farming is simple and easy to understand. A good amount of crops with room for more.

What I would add:

Have more uses for the hoe, not really using it much.

Have Luc teach you how to make bug traps with honey and flowers. Unlocked with enough hearts with him. 

Luc can teach you how to make bee hives with Ryis’ help. You will have to catch bees to craft them. Will produce honey. 

Have the ax and pickax also cut weeds, so you can more precisely get rid of them. Without cutting the grass. 

Will we get a greenhouse or sheds? Would be fun to have.

ANIMALS:

What I liked: Animals are good so far, the breeding for colors is fun. 

What i would add:

Have Hayden sell grass starter and animal feed. Make it a friendship or story unlock. Don’t make it a skill unlock. 

Have animals have better path finding so they don't go through fences or barns/coops

Have grass spread a bit faster. Also have grass-starter spread grass at an accelerated pace for a few days. 

When milling animal feed you should at least get 2 bags per mix. Making the mill more viable. Make this default not a skill upgrade.

Have the grass starter make 2 starters when you mill it. Make this default not a skill upgrade.

Have a barn/coop upgrade that auto fills the feed troughs and a place to add in the feed.  

CRAFTING:

What I liked: From what I have seen, a good amount of decoration, but not enough practical use that brings me back to it other than chests. 

What I would add: 

Give the wood crafting skill a more practical use other than decoration. Give it crafts like sprinklers, animal product machines, making grass starter at home, ect. Give it a balance of technical and decorative functions. 

Give us an at home forge at some point. March and Olric could unlock the option once they both have enough hearts. 

The crafting table should allow players to craft kegs to make alcohol to be later used in cooking. 

Building barns or coops should reward exp to the crafting skill.

FISHING:

What I liked: Really easy to understand fishing mini game. No problems here.

What I would add:

Have Terithia teach you how to make crab pots, fish ponds/farms and fish bait once you have enough hearts with her. She can also sell them. 

Terithia could sell seaweed, Jade dulse, under seaweed, sea grapes, and tide lettuce. Maybe you can unlock a heart event/ rank upgrade event where she wants to build seaweed farms and you have to bring her the 5 seaweed types and stone to make them. 

Terithia could sell soy sauce. 

You should be able to eat fish raw for a small stamina boost/recovery. 

OTHER: 

If you already have a quest reward, have the old reward change to gold.

Make the days longer by 10 minutes. I feel like I'm scrambling for time. Likewise with the day being longer, make the stamina bar bigger or tools use less stamina. 

The ruins and the beach feel kinda empty. I want more to do and explore. 

Home upgrades that add separate rooms, an upstairs and a basement. 

An auto sorting button for chests that takes the items out of my inventory and auto sorts them into the chest.

More places to explore. The map feels smallish. 

Have notifications when things are happening. Like when Friday night at the inn starts, when the Saturday market is open, or when festivals start.

Getting all buffs in a skill level should award you with using less stamina when using the tool of that skill. Such as: crafting for axes. Mining for pickaxes. Fishing for fishing rods. Archeology for shoves. Farming for watering can/hoe.

When the game becomes 1.0 we should have proper save files so we can have multiple farms/save files at once.

Make coops/ barns, trees and large objects transparent when you walk behind them. 

Holding the SHIFT key makes you buy or collect 5 of an item.

Chests should be bigger at least 1.5 times the max inventory. 

Too many monsters in the mine make you wait and waste time.

Allow us to sell stuff at any store. 

Scrolling through your inventory should not go to the next tab, it should loop the tab. Only switching tabs when the TAB key is hit. 

As your town rank goes up, wandering traders, adventurers, and visitors appear. They can sell rare or unobtainable items or have world building dialog. 

Have new events happen  year 2 and 3. New people, new places, new crops and items. Will make the game more interesting in the long run.

There should be an indicator saying if i have crafted/cooked something or not and how many times it has been crafted. 

When buying an item(s), there should be a chest icon telling you how many of that item I have in a chest. This would be helpful for forgetful players that don't keep track of items well.

Maybe make the legendary bugs a bit easier to find. I’m only finding speedy snails.

Thanks for hearing my thoughts.

@fieldsofmistria

[nctstar]

Hello! I saw that your requests are opened. Can you please write something or a smut with Doyoung siren? It sounds so incredible in the beginning of golden age 🤯

hi! I know this is SOO late but I'm still getting used to this whole request thing...hopefully will be much better at it next year :) anyway, I think it's probably different to what you envisioned but it does involve siren Doyoung so :D

the girl of the Surface

I leant over to kiss Doyoung on the cheek. Sure enough, the skin on his face felt wet against my lips, and he tasted like salt. When I pulled away, his cheeks were flushed deep orange.

“May I see you again, Doyoung.” I walked away after that, not knowing this was the start of an endless story, a loop, if you will.

pairing: siren!doyoung x fem!reader

other members: the 127 members :)

word count: 3k

genre: low fantasy, smut

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni! yes the sexual content is between sirens and humans so if that makes you uncomfy then don't read, penetrative sex, riding, kissing, fingering, profanity (use of the f word mainly)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. I'm also not a siren expert so feel free to educate me kindly if I'm wrong about certain things - I did do some research for this but there's obviously a lot out there on stuff like this

a/n: honestly i'm a bit iffy about the quality of this - I feel like it's not my best writing but I'm still eager to get this out bc I feel like it's intriguing at the least. I feel like subconsciously I adapt my writing style to suit whoever I'm reading rn - and rn I'm reading the starless sea so I tried to be more whimsical - but reading back on this I don't think I can pull off this style like queen erin morgenstern can so...anyway it's a work in progress :D also completely forget about golden age oops

also let's just say the jungwoo alien fic walked so this one could run lmao

Every day, Doyoung sneaked away to meet the girl of the Surface.

That’s what everyone else called her, like she owned the place. Nobody knew her name, voice, what she wore or even what she carried. The outlines of her face and body were always blurry, just out of focus.

He wasn’t supposed to go see her. Not on the first day, and definitely not on the days after that.

Doyoung mainly spent most of his days cooped up in his bedroom, nose buried in the pages of a book, words swimming around in his head at all hours of the day. While his siblings rushed here and there, tails flapping and knocking knick-knacks off the makeshift shelves he had built, gossiping about the latest happenings at the market, he travelled the world in his head. Not just the one below, but above the Surface.

Many nights were spent awake, wondering, what is so bad about the Surface?

One night, way before he had ventured above and first laid eyes on her, excited shouts had awoken him from a floaty slumber, and he swam out of his house to find the body of a human male falling through the water, his white shirt billowing out of his body, one shoe coming off his feet, threatening to be lost in the depths of the water.

His brother, Jaehyun, nudged him. “Hey.”

He nodded, acknowledging his presence, but his eyes never left that shoe, not until it fell off completely and started to float away. At the same time, he watched the water around the body stain red, spreading quickly like he imagined paint would on canvas. Above the Surface, of course.

“You think this is how it is above the Surface?”

“Like what?” His brother was eating already. Not the human – well, not yet, anyway.

“Do they also feed on-“

“Hey! Doyoung! Get over here. We need more sirens.”

∞

The day after that, Doyoung and Jaehyun were initiated and sent up for the very first time.

“Hyung, how are you moving so easily with these things?” Jaehyun rubbed his sides in annoyance, wincing when his fingers met the quickly hardening ridges of fins. “I can’t believe I’m going to have this for the rest of my life.”

Doyoung was quiet, the swish-swish of his body travelling upwards, closer towards the Surface. His thoughts were flooded, the voices of the other sirens refusing to settle in his brain. Do not rise above the Surface.

But the people in the books, with their dances and songs – different to the ones he knew. Songs that inspired, that brought peace, that declared love.

Not songs that represented betrayal, violent ends for the ones who dared to stop and listen.

 Would he be able to hear those songs?

“It’ll be fun. You know,” He caught up to Doyoung now, arms brushing as they swam in sync. “the others said you can have fun with them before the song ends.”

Doyoung looked at his younger brother, whose eyes were glinting with something akin to pride, or mischief. “What kind of fun?”

Jaehyun smiled at him. “Remember that time Johnny-hyung made that huge thing crash, and it had hundreds of humans on it? Well, he said he had a lot of fun that day.”

“It’s called a ship.” Doyoung looked ahead as the water began to lighten, signalling their arrival. “Those huge things are ships.”

“Okay…” He trailed off, frowning slightly before getting distracted by his new fins again, now fully hard and sharp enough to cut the skin of his hands if he pressed down too hard. “Anyway, we can always hope for people on the shore too. In fact, they say there’s a human who lives on the shore of the land nearby.”

“What land?” Doyoung watched the rays of the light source above, the sun as the humans called it, let beams of light strike through the water.  They moved on their own accord, freely, like how he pictured the legs of the dancers as they moved to music above the Surface.

“Hyung it’s called an island, actually.” Jaehyun smirked, teasingly flicking his tail against Doyoung. The pressure of the fins in his sides started to push into his chest, making him feel a little lightheaded. A human…on an island? Above the Surface?

“Yeah, well, it’s kind of a legend. Like, legend has it she exists, but she never responds to a siren’s call.”

Something turned in Doyoung’s stomach. “She doesn’t…” he whispered, looking down, thoughts plaguing him.

“Yeah. They tried everything, but…not a single time did she even step closer, or indicate she was affected by the call. Hyung, they even,” Jaehyun grabbed Doyoung’s arm, letting his body float around to face him. “rose above the Surface. A siren-hyung was desperate. And then-“

“And then what?”

“He was never seen again.” For a moment it was silent, Jaehyun’s eyes staring unblinking into his own. Then, his torso erupted in fits of laughter, the fins in his sides uncomfortably moulded to his shaking body. “I can’t believe you fell for that, Hyung.” Doyoung sighed, shrugging off the arms of his younger brother. Above him, the sun burned ferociously, the water lining the edge of the Surface getting lighter.

∞

I had no idea I would meet Doyoung that day at the shore.

I was expecting a stretch of time with nothing to keep me company but the sounds of the rushing waves and the mess of my own thoughts. But alas, the figure became clearer as I walked barefoot across the sands.

Stopping in my tracks, wanting desperately to have some sort of weapon handy instead of a hefty book (though, a book could easily become a weapon if you try hard enough), I called out, chest feeling tight all of a sudden. “Who are you?”

The man was naked excepting the wrap of brown fabric around his hips, and my eyes ran across the weird lines on the sides of his toned chest. He was completely dry.

He didn’t move, and, I couldn’t see his face yet, so it was a surprise to hear his voice for the first time. Not only because I didn’t expect him to speak, but because his voice came as a deep, sonorous sound right into my ears, as if I had earbuds in and had just hit play.

“My name is Doyoung. I’m a siren.”

I should have turned away immediately, ignored him, or even stayed in place, waiting for him to leave. But instead, I did the worst thing you could ever do in such a situation.

In storybooks, sirens use songs that capture you, much like a physical trap, until you’re so far deep you fail to comprehend what you got yourself into. Yet, Doyoung was silent after he finished speaking, after admitting the sin of his existence.

“Are you serious?” The feeling of his chest was rubbery and wet underneath my fingers, despite him looking completely dry. “How is this-“

“Why did you come to me?”

I looked up at his face. He was handsome, but not in the mysterious way that you would expect a mythical creature. Redness and scars peppered across his skin, eyes furrowed in human-like confusion, legs as long as sundown stretched for on this island. His hair was messy, lips tinted red, parted slightly as if he was really breathing. My hands ached to touch his face, but I held back, not wanting to fondle this random…male specimen I had literally just met any longer.

“You’re the girl of the Surface. Like in the stories.”

You squinted, the sun beating down mercilessly between your bare shoulder blades. Getting nervous ay once under his intense gaze, I toyed with the shell necklace around my neck, averting his gaze. “Um, thanks, I guess. But I’m just, well, I’m _.”

“Legend has it siren calls don’t work on you.” Doyoung kept speaking like a narrator in an old timey film, stating facts rather than working to keep a real conversation going. “You look really blurry all the time, but you seem to take on the form of a human female. A young adult one. In all the decades you’ve been here, no one has been able to take you to the seas. You’re an enigma. No one can figure you out.”

I paused, my brain refusing to accept any of this information, but my heart warmed with something gentle and forgiving. I leant over to kiss Doyoung on the cheek. Sure enough, the skin on his face felt wet against my lips, and he tasted like salt. When I pulled away, his cheeks were flushed deep orange.

“May I see you again, Doyoung.” I walked away after that, not knowing this was the start of an endless story, a loop, if you will.

∞

Days and days and days later, I lay down on the sand with Doyoung for the first time.

He lay on top of me, and I hooked one arm around his neck, pulling his face near mine so he could kiss me. He did not. Instead, he rocked his hips against mine, and I felt his hard-on against my clothed core, making me whine. Pieces of sand travelled through strands of my hair, settling on my scalp.

Was this wrong?

He sank his teeth into my teeth, making me shake under him. Iron grip around my wrist and arm, he sucked and nipped the skin of my neck, and I cried out in pleasure. “Oh my god, don’t stop, p-please.” He groaned, his nose nestled into the crook of my neck. Letting go of one of my hands, he brought one between my legs, both of us working together to shrug off my bikini bottoms. Fingers nestled inside me all in one go with no warning, I felt the length of his fingers push against my sensitive walls. I bucked my hips upwards, involuntarily letting him travel knuckle deep inside me. When I climaxed, I dug my teeth into the salty skin of his neck. His eyes were closed the entire time.

“Is this wrong?” Ironically, even as he paused, his hard-on pressed urgently against me, as if answering for me. I shook my head, wanting to feel him inside me, wanting no more than to let my mind and body turn into jelly, to be overwhelmed by sensations akin to ones that made my world shake. I kissed him deeply, fingers digging into his scalp. Despite being so obviously turned on, and proceeding to fuck me at inhumane speeds for the next hour, Doyoung didn’t make a single noise the entire time after that.

∞

You couldn’t stop reading, even as the clock on your bedside shone angrily. Beside you, your husband groaned. “Babe.” One hand was slung messily across his eyes, the sheets revealing a slip of stomach and leg as he shuffled, half asleep. “You’re not reading your diary again, are you?”

“Doie, it’s just so cute. I love reading how we met. And what we did.” You brought your face closer to Doyoung’s, his eyes now sharper, even in the dim lights of your shared bedroom. You made sure the moonlight hit the curve of your hips and ass as you moved to kneel next to him. From his lips to the skin of his face and torso, you watched his body breathe sleepily. So beautiful, you thought.

It had been five years since that day he had crawled out of the water and met you.

Now you were, as Doyoung would say, living life above the Surface, like commoners in a children’s story about witches or pirates. People who fell in love, got married, had babies, then lay to rest on Earth forever.

By some magic, Doyoung was no longer a siren.

But the thought that he might still be one, might still accidentally have trapped you all these years, haunt him.

As you felt Doyoung’s length fully sheath inside you, you frowned, moans spilling senselessly out of your mouth as you rode him. You knew him so well, physically, and emotionally. Leaning over, you kissed him over and over again, the sounds of your hips hitting his pelvis becoming louder as you tried to reach your high. “Shhh…baby…you’re perfect. ” A lone tear slid down his face as he stared into your eyes, as if they were endless voids and not the eyes of his beloved wife. He began to whimper, and the sound of him shaking as he came made you reach your high too, slumping over him as you heaved. “Fuck yes.” You noisily kissed him as your hips began to bounce again, making him throw his head back and moan loudly.

“H-how can this be real?” The ceiling was warping into swirls, and the air was getting hotter. The weight of your thighs that pressed against the sides of his hips were beginning to fade away, and he felt paralysed. Distant voices wafted into the room, as if a filter was suddenly being lifted. Someone shouting his name. He pressed his eyes closed, tight, his hips stuttering as he came down from his second high.

You were gone. But for some reason, he could still feel the smooth surface of the shell that hung from your neck tickle against his neck, as if you were still there on top of him.

“HYUNG!”

His eyes snapped open. He felt a rush of air. Someone sighing, their blurry figure materialising as he came to. “Fuck, you scared us!”

The sun bore down on his face, and Doyoung felt his skin burning under its unforgiving rays. Despite the ache that yelled angrily through his entire body, he sat up, now faced with the rest of his members. Taeyong squatted next to him, holding a cold waterbottle, droplets riding down the outside surface. “Here. Drink this.”

Johnny’s broad figure towered above him, still hazy, but as his face got closer, his voice became clearer. “Where did she go?”

Doyoung frowned, and Johnny matched his expression. Everyone was silent, Doyoung shakily responding. “What are you talking about?” Taeyong tapped him, bringing the bottle closer to his lips.

As the ice-cold liquid rushed down to his stomach, Doyoung was awash with a new sense of clarity. He physically shuddered, as hidden memories of the past five years came to light. His face dropped, his eyes filled with horror. “W-where is she? The girl?”

“As I said, she left after she saw me. It was strange…” Johnny paused, and then pressed his lips together, looking down. The others were silent, and Doyoung whipped his head to all of them. They were all holding back. “What is it?”

Taeyong rested one hand on Doyoung’s bare shoulder, making him flinch. Nodding apologetically, he continued. “She looked vastly different to all of us.”

Jaehyun scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure this is all an elaborate prank, Hyung. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Hyung.” The maknae spoke, looking genuinely scared. Yuta patted him gently, as if silently agreeing with his next words. “Jaehyun-hyung saw Taeyong-hyung.”

“I wasn’t there, I swear.” Taeyong lifted both his hands up, his eyes watery and confused. “I swear to you guys.”

“Well, I saw Sarah. From my high school.”

“The girl that you lo-“ Doyoung stopped. Icicles formed in his stomach, the realisation making him sick. “Oh my god.”

“I saw Lavender, Doyoung.” He didn’t need that confirmation, but Taeyong’s voice was shaky now. “I saw her, clear as day. But…there was something off about her. I know this sounds crazy, but, she…she didn’t seem like herself.”

“But…whoever we saw,” Jaehyun still seemed skeptical, side-eyeing Johnny. “They all ran away after the first glance.”

Taeyong’s face was reddened by the harsh sun as Doyoung sat frozen in shock.

“Did she – or he – leave anything behind?”

As the words left his mouth, Doyoung’s hands were already inside the pocket of his pants. He let his fingers run over the shell in his pocket as the rest of the boys muttered their answers.

The words were becoming background noise, his thoughts all-encompassing, consuming him like water on a cold swim. He stood up, much to the surprise of the others. “I’m fine, guys. Meet you at the car? I’ll just be a few minutes.”

He would’ve found another way, even if his members hadn’t reluctantly left him that day at the beach. After all, you had left the necklace in his pocket for a reason. You loved him. You weren’t tricking him. You let him live because you loved him.

“Welcome home, baby.”

Right?

∞

To you, the stories had always fascinated you. The people of the Surface, with their friendly songs and parties, and stupid, blind trust in things that looked like them.

Especially things that looked like desirable women.

It quickly became your life’s mission to have as many as you could, not to share, never…to share. No, this was all for yourself. Nobody else got the Surface like you did. Nobody could scan and hunt on dry land like you did. You were always one step ahead, always planning your next move. In fact, the cute little maknae on the beach today was next on your radar.

But Doyoung…Doyoung was so much fun.

And what is it that they always said?

Oh right.

You’re allowed to have a little bit of fun…until the song ends, of course.

The song was almost over for Doyoung. Despite everything, you were starting to feel…bad, something you had read about in human books. Guilt. You wanted to give him a chance, a chance to walk away, because he honestly seemed like a good human. But obviously, he liked you too much to forget so easily.

You forgot that humans could be naïve like that.

At least you tried. Now, as the sun set on the horizon, it was almost time to head home. You were quickly getting bored, and tired of singing for the day.