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peachypinkygloss · 8 months

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dior girl ✰ park jimin

Park Jimin is one of a kind. When he wants something, he gets it, no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands. But this man has absolutely no morals.

୨୧ pairing: designer!jimin x model/fem!reader

୨୧ genre: strangers to lovers, age gap (21 & 38), smut, slight angst

୨୧ word count: 8.1k

୨୧ warnings: unrealistic depiction of the fashion industry, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, manipulation & corruption, jimin isn't a good person (especially not to oc lol <3), violent sexual thoughts, jimin's a sadist (my fav headcannon :D), heavy dom/sub dynamics, hard dom!jimin, unprotected vaginal & anal sex, anal play (use of a buttplug), my new headcannon: jimin likes giving anal, dacryphilia, praising & degradation, oral sex (m), face fucking, aftercare ig because yes jimin's a sadist but he still has a heart.

a.n.: yup so idk if you guys were expecting that... but i did say none of the characters were ethical lmfao so 🤷🏻‍♀️ i really, really hope you like the first part, i've worked hard on it even though it's not super long. so please, reblog and tell me what you thought about it! <3 as always, don't like, don't read.

[dior girl moodboard] ["older" masterlist]

His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place in the world he can spend hours in without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio it feels like the time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.

When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, and the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's designing.

He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and also of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.

He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of the dress. At some point it was consuming his entire mind, this dress the only design he could draw and think of.

Now that he's finally creating it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever made. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Jimin is. It's going to be the design of the year — of the century.

He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of the design. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.

It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and who radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.

Jimin still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.

All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Jimin when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.

Until today.

He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking. "Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims, Jimin immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Sungwoon. "I have someone to introduce you."

Jimin raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Sungwoon who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he doesn't really care about the many girls Sungwoon brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.

When Jimin turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Sungwoon's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs — the one he wants and has to ruin.

Sungwoon introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.

You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Sungwoon raises his eyebrows in Jimin's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.

"Thanks," you smile back at Sungwoon before glancing back at Jimin who still hasn't looked away from you. "I've been a big fan of your work since I was a little kid, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."

The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt while you cry his name invading his mind.

He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, to break but also repair them.

He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.

"I'm glad to hear that," Jimin says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile — stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it useless. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him because you're so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex.

"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Sungwoon begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you." You giggle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Jimin as if waiting for some praises.

Jimin faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you first. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, to kiss, to fuck, to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.

๑♡՞

T H E N

"Careful," Jimin softly says as he catches you up from falling on the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.

"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost fall a second time. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.

Jimin looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.

You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Jimin knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol since you're on a very strict diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just one glass tonight.

It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the glasses of wine, but you had a little help.

A little help from Jimin himself.

When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you've noticed nothing and gulped everything. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.

But Jimin assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank... Until you were more than tipsy.

You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.

Years and years of training, countless sleepless nights, meals that are as nutritious as birds seed... All of the efforts in the world to have your biggest dream stolen by a model who is in the industry for less than six months.

Their rage is understandable, but Jimin couldn't care less. In fact, everything is going as planned and he can't fuck things up now. No, because if he does, all of the things he has done until now will be completely irrelevant.

"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Jimin announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.

"Will she be okay?" A stylist asks.

"Of course. I'll take care of her."

He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.

You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them at the entry.

When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.

"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Jimin sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper — a secret, a confession only you can hear. "Right?"

You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Jimin will fix your mistakes. Your foolish mistakes, done by the carefree of a twenty-one year old.

"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter and tighter til suffocation.

He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.

Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks — he hopes.

You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Jimin as if his simple presence will make all of your problems fly away.

You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Jimin everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.

You bring him closer, crumpling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.

Jimin breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.

"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days when you came to his studio to try on his dress.

You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly. He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.

And maybe it was made for you, after all.

Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.

Jimin will make you walk the runway wearing his dress — the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.

His forever.

"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Tell me what you did," Jimin softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.

You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.

"I prepared myself for you..." You begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Jimin wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.

"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him. And all while thinking of him.

You swallow, "On my ass, Jimin," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.

"Good girl," Jimin purrs. "Let me see it then."

You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor.

You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Jimin stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.

His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you.

You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours.

He sees that your ass is a bit looser than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock — though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not.

He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side?

He's choked you before — smacked your ass hard til you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements.

So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Jimin wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?

But you trust him so much — with all your pathetic being — and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiple lines, and being the poor, sad girl that you are, you said nothing.

You truly are extraordinary.

He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice that has you mewling, sounding so smooth and sweet. "How about we play with it a little?"

He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."

"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase.

"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.

Jimin brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well.

He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you out, sinking in gradually as Jimin holds your cheeks apart.

"Mmh, feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Jimin.

When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, making it jiggle from the harsh hit.

"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his big bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?"

"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug.

Jimin genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way — though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.

It's not like you seem to mind, anyway.

After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever.

He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.

He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping against his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt.

"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy.

His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out.

"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Jimin holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock.

He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin stinging after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head of his penis between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip.

"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Jimin. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex.

"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his plump lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before.

When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls deliciously enveloping his hard cock tightly.

You moan in unison as he bottoms out in you, his balls touching your wet and warm pussy. He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your head and shoves it against the mattress.

You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body — as well as on your mind and your soul.

He already sets a hard and rapid pace — fucking is never soft or loving with Jimin, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public and releases when he gets intimate with you.

You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. And you've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Jimin whenever he feels like it.

"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, ravished and delighted to have his girthy cock sliding against your velvety walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head against the bed covers with more strength.

You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Jimin's hand still pushing down on your head.

His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and on the covers. Your pussy swallows all of his girth, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.

It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You crumple the bed sheets between your little fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Jimin and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you.

He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock.

His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers, the coldness of his silver rings contrasting with the hotness of your sweaty skin. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Jimin controls you — that he controls your life and thoughts.

With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, coated in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy rapidly, as he holds you by the throat, lewdly licking a long stripe along the side of your face.

You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your delicate arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers dirty things to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so bad like the slut that you are," he mouths the words against your hair, cock pulsing hard in your cunt.

His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy.

You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud, circling it sensually and slowly, the complete opposite of his hip thrusts.

"Yes, want to please you, Jimin," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on your pussy. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid.

He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you.

It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features.

He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you are of him, how impossible it is for you to live without him to guide you.

He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet his in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your now soppy and messy pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room.

He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around his girth once again. Your little hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest.

"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Jimin lets go of your face and hips.

You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Jimin slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress.

You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and defined abs. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only things remaining on him being his rings and the watch crowning his right wrist.

His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes.

He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction — more pain.

He doesn't mind being naked too because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Jimin is imposing, his cock thick and girthy enough to split you in half.

He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator had caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, thick and veiny, your hole pathetically quivering — missing his size stretching out your pussy.

He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath sweetheart," Jimin instructs and you inhale deeply.

He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after.

He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaks from your pussy. His erect cock is just so close to it and Jimin could slide right in with one movement of his hips.

He lets go of one of your legs to grip his engorged erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in.

"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, that he's staring so obsessively at your rim.

Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush to his penis at the mere thought of hurting you.

Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it — he needs it. Accuse him for having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him for everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame.

"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more pressure to your ass hole. "Can you, baby?" Jimin asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you.

"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you.

"Yes, what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain.

His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut, your instinct thinking it'll protect you.

"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails in the flesh of his biceps — only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass..."

You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Jimin groans at that, stuffing more of himself in your hole. "Good girl," he praises, voice raspy, ending with a deep grunt.

He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used to prepare yourself. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink.

The tears roll down the side of your face and Jimin can't help but be turned on, leaning in to kiss your face and collect some of your tears, tasting the saltiness of them on his tongue.

"Jimin...!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful gaze, tears rolling down your face. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin.

"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks air through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough.

He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, descending to your collarbones and groping your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you.

He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first.

He wouldn't go too far to hurt you. The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation.

It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependant on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Jimin because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically.

His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. The cool sensation of his rings on your stomach makes you shiver, his finger gently circling your clit to make the pain more bearable.

His cock slides in your hole back and forth, your ass slowly but surely taking the size of girth. Many curses leave Jimin's mouth, your ass probably the best he's ever fucked. You feel so good around him, you're tight, but you loosen easily, making it so, so pleasurable for him.

His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..."

A choked moan is all you can respond, eyes rolling back in your skull as Jimin splits your ass open, fucking his thick cock into you. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his skin.

He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place — always letting you know that he is always in control.

Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Jimin bottoms out. It starts feeling good for you — really good — and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning.

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fist and sinking your nails into the flesh of his back.

He backs away from you a little, his plump lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms.

He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lowly groans, holding eye-contact with you.

You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You enjoy the sensations of his pulsing veins under your small fingers as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, staring into Jimin's dark eyes.

"Jimin..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Jimin takes the opportunity to smooch your neck again as you expose it to him, his full lips delicately pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly.

He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure.

And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.

"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby," he groans in your ear, gritting his teeth as he feels his balls tightening.

He slowly halts his hips movements, letting out heavy breaths as he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass.

You're both trying to catch your breaths, Jimin raising himself up from you and getting out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed.

You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Jimin commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees after.

He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head.

"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Jimin's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the hotel room.

He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair.

You relax your jaw for Jimin, allowing him to stuff your mouth full of his cock. He looks down at you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water. He still holds the back of your head with one hand, guiding you over his stiff erection and you moan obscenely around Jimin, drool dripping down on your chin.

He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take the whole thing each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases.

"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, making it more pleasurable for him. "You're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again.

You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said. It sends deliciously vibrations through his entire body, the sounds of your moans and hearing you gag around him is so arousing to him. He wants to hear more so he literally uses your mouth like a toy, snapping his hips against you, his balls slapping your chin.

He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks now damp and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes stinging as Jimin fucks your throat like a mad man.

"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet.

You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Jimin's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself.

Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Jimin's moans and the feeling of his stiff cock weighing down on your tongue.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger flickering over your sensitive bud smoothly because of your arousal.

The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Jimin can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him.

"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. He stops thrusting in you. "Go on the bed, baby."

You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Jimin penetrates your pussy a second time, bending your legs over your stomach.

"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed by him right away, tits moving up and down on your chest.

His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly you feel your skin stinging. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high.

You let out a high-pitched moan when Jimin suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your pussy.

"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your clitoral orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips.

Your hole clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep into you. He empties himself in your wet cunt, cumming just after you.

When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering it in his creamy cum. You moan at the warm sensation, always loving how it feels both in and on you. Some of his seeds dribble out of you, dripping down to your ass.

He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made on you. He stares up at your face, seeing how fucked up you look, hair in a nest and eyes reddened.

Later, Jimin is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall.

He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his design, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes.

He thinks about all of that that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Jimin.

You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five.

Jimin knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you.

But that's why he's here, to take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his — solely and completely his.

"Jimin?"

Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest.

"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?"

You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."

๑♡՞

A F T E R

The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them.

But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best.

Jimin was satisfied to see that his name stood out among everyone else's, being called more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about.

He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you had contributed to the fame a lot.

Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Jimin needed.

But everything has an end, doesn't it?

When Jimin comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, watching the city living at night while it's raining. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes.

You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that has happened the past weeks in your small head.

It was going to happen soon enough anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all.

Jimin was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one for dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen.

He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with Jimin's sabotage or not. He did you a favour, you should be thankful.

You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Jimin was feeding you. The bottle of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea.

Some people can, others can't and you're one of them. You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to.

"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, already knowing he's walking up to you without looking. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..."

He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Jimin comes home.

"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says.

You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts.

"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you."

Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed til the end of it.

He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away.

How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you — close all of your past wounds and create other ones.

He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you — he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.

๑♡՞

taglist: @mcsalterego @blueberryarchive @gyukookswhore @bloopkook @ot72025 @mrsminho @ownthesunshine @dahliadaenerys

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jimin imagines #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin fic

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prythianpages · 4 days

Text

NIGHT MASTERLIST

A Z R I E L

↠ A Court of Shadows & Moonlight | rhy's sister oc

series masterlist Summary: Daughter of the Night Court’s High Lord. Half Illyrian. Half High Fae. Rhysand’s little sister. A Dreamer. Only few know her as Valeria and only one knows her truth. She is the moon, a lonely girl cratered by imperfections, and he is her night, the one who helps her shine bright.

↠ Give 'Em Hell | beron's daughter oc

series masterlist Summary: Beron Vanserra is a man with many sinful secrets but there is one that desires to punish him. His daughter. His true firstborn and heir to the Autumn Court.

↠ A Field of Dandelions | witch reader

series masterlist Summary: Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of spring and autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.

↠ I've Been Waiting For You ☁︎ `♡´

[read here] [bonus] Summary: After centuries of waiting, Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate. (this is kinda inspired by Alice & Jasper from twilight.)

↠ Be Safe ☁︎

[read here] summary: you are on your way to Day Court when Azriel stops you. After the two of you fall victim to Cassian's and Mor's teasing, Azriel realizes why he can't just let you go.

↠ When I Kissed the Teacher ☁︎

[read here] Summary: After crushing on Azriel for almost a year, Nesta dares you to kiss him during Valkyrie training.

↠ In My Eyes | Rhysand's Sister reader`♡´

[read here] Summary: Azriel has lost you once and when unseen circumstances bring you back to life, he will not lose you again. Even if it means going against his family.

C A S S I A N

↠ Stuck on You

series masterlist Summary: Cassian can't seem to forget about you since the night you met seven years ago. He thought he would never see you again but when he does, he's determined to make you his. This time for good.

↠ Lay All Your Love On Me ☪☁︎

[read here] [bonus] summary: Cassian is your best friend and best friend’s don’t thirst after one another. Best friends don’t get jealous. Best friends also don’t fall in love with one another. But you did.

↠ When I Kissed the Teacher ☁︎

[read here] summary: After weeks of flirting and one drunken confession, you decide to finally own up to your feelings for Cassian.

R H Y S A N D

↠ Wanna Be Yours | Dawn court reader

series masterlist Summary: When the Night Court and Dawn Court strike a deal, healers in exchange for Illyrian training, you rush at the opportunity to leave your home. You plan to keep a low profile but upon meeting the High Lord of night, your efforts are futile. He takes an instant liking to you and is set on being yours.

↠ The Sun and the Moon ☁︎

summary: Rhysand wants to write you the perfect poem for Valentine's Day and calls Cassian and Azriel for help. [read here]

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lynnlovesthestars · 7 months

Text

Masterlist- Baldur's Gate 3.

Hello my stars, since my brain went from somewhat sane to "How can I live without Astarion" I decided to put everything I've been posting in a masterpost.

Also I'm opening my requests, right now I'll be writing only about Baldur's Gate, but later I might venture in other fandoms. At the bottom of this masterpost, I'll leave the requests rules.

This being said, whether you are here to look for a treat, or to request your fantasies, what can I do for you?

My prompt list. (currently under maintenance)

Kofi, patreon for those who'd like to tip!

dd:dne infos for those who might be interested in finding out how it works.

Requests questions!

Taglist form. for those who wants to get tagged.

Work in progress page.

Other places where you can find me:

@ask-karlachbear (karlach rp blog) currently inactive, for roleplaying please dm.

@wisterialynn (my oc rp account)

Astarion Acunin:

Scars: Astarion x Reader. Angst. Set in act 3. "When your fears catch up to you"

Blood: Astarion x Reader. Part 2 of scars. Angst, fluff. Set in act 3. "How long does it take to heal those scars?"

One and Only. Astarion x Reader. Smut, fluff, lil of angst. Post act 3. "No one will ever love me like you do"

The sun, the moon and the stars. Astarion x Reader. part 2 of One and Only. Angst, fluff, smut (kinda). Post act 3. "When he thought he couldn't ask for more, you gave him back his freedom."

I wandered lonely as a cloud. Astarion x reader. Hurt, comfort, fluff, eventual smut. Set in act 2. "Let's pretend just for a few hours that we are okay, that we fell in love."

Why? Astarion x reader. Angst, hurt/ comfort, something similar to fluff. "Why? Why? Why?"

-Tick, tack, ah.- Astarion x OC (Lynn). Hurt no comfort.

Amygdala- Astarion x OC (Lynn). fluff, angst, a bit of confort?. "pain comes in many ways"

Serendipity - Astarion x OC (Lynn) fluff?. "astarion was supposed to have a meal and ended up catching feelings- or something like that."

Golden- Astarion x Tiefling!reader. angsty?, lots of thinking, self-doubt, avoidance. "the huge tear in his shirt caught your eye again, and you decided to give him a reminder that someone cared about him." (somewhat pt 2 of "Why")

Avoid- Astarion x Wyll. Angsty. Prompt 11.

Wisteria- Astarion x OC (Lynn). Fluff, smut, angst. Set post game. "In an universe where they don't end up together while tadpoled, Lynn comes to the conclusion that he loves Astarion."

Sleep tight- Astarion x OC (Lynn) fluff.

Lesson One- Astarion x GN!reader. Fluff.

Karlach Cliffgate:

Bedsheets. Karlach x reader. Requested. Fluff. Post act 3. Ticklish adventure.

Wyll Ravengard:

Sleepless. Wyll x Reader. Smut, fluff if you squint. "Everyone is asleep, and all he can think about is not next to him."

Headcanon: anal. Smut.

Something. Wyll x reader x Gale, poly, fluff. They are something.

Avoid Astarion x Wyll. Angsty (check under Astarion)

Seasalt. Wyll x reader, smut

Gale Dekarios:

Arabella - Songfic, fluff. Prompt: 169 “Oh, fuck. Do that again.”

Something. Wyll x reader x Gale. Fluff. (look up!)<3

Tea- Gale x reader. Drabble. A tea to fall in love.

Shadowheart:

TBA

Lae'zel:

TBA

Halsin:

TBA

Jaheira:

Dinner is served. smut.

Minsc:

TBA

other characters:

"Let me show you how this will benefit you"- Gortash x OC (see more on post), smut- check TWs.

Request rules:

My requests are currently open, of course there's some rules I'd like to enforce so all of the readers, as well as me, are comfortable.

-no nsfw from anons or ageless accs

-no abuse from the romantic interest with the intent of having them fall in love (I see you Stockholm syndrome lovers, but this is not the place), while the mcs trying to murder each other before kissing it's our fav trope here, abuse it's not.

-no dubcon or noncon

-no b3stiality, no inc3st, or minors characters, even if aged up.

-and yk the usual do not interact warnings.

-can definitely use prompts, one liners, tropes, whatever comes to your mind for the request, and I'll try my best to fulfill them.

Navigation tags:

#lynn: updates ☆ (updates on what im working on, or published content)

#ask: lynn ☆ (answers to the asks I get)

#lynn: i wandered lonely as a cloud (ff related tag)

#vault: lynn ☆ (what I posted)

#asklynn☆: request (requests fulfilled)

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years

Text

Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Yes, all 8 of them)

Words: 13,318

Warnings: One stabbing mention. Seonghwa gets a little handsy at one point. The boys are very horny for the OC. I make too many direct references to the song and its lyrics, don’t at me please. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: You know, I never expect a simple Drabble to turn into this beast right here, but I'm happy with the way it turned out. Not gonna lie, this fic is a bit self-indulgent at certain parts, but what fic isn’t? Lmaoo anyways, I do not believe Ateez would ever act like this. This is just my interpretation of this particular Drabble request and the yandere archetype. I really hope you all like this one; feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~ (Seriously though guys, please don’t let this flop haha)

Extra: The whole time I was writing this, I had a chubby!reader in mind, but I don’t explicitly describe anything that would indicate that so I don’t feel right tagging it as such. Just know it’s heavily implied, but anyone can read this!!

Mini Masterlist

Driving down the dark desert highway, cool wind whips through your hair. The sun has slowly been setting, its last few rays of light drifting over the land and casting shadows in their wake.

You've been on the road all day, having had the urge to take a spontaneous road trip by yourself. Work has been really hectic lately, so since you have the next three days off, you decided to use them to your advantage.

The only problem is, the last sign of civilization you passed was forty minutes down the road, and you're not quite sure when the next hotel, or even a place to stop for the evening might pop up. Luckily, within the next five minutes, it seems as if your thoughts have been answered, for a hotel appears in the distance.

Pulling into the parking lot, you eye the place skeptically. For a building right smack in the middle of the desert, it sure doesn't look like one. The bright stone walls practically shine beneath the light of the now risen full moon, the place looking more like a resort than anything. Hopefully it's not too expensive then.

Cutting the engine after rolling up the windows, you let out a long breath through your nose. Slowly, you step out of the car, rolling your neck all the while. Standing only makes you realize just how stiff your entire body is, stretching your arms and back out slightly before you slam the car door shut.

Oddly enough, there are no other cars in the parking lot, save for your own. Your brow furrows slightly as you make your way towards the front entrance. Though, you suppose it makes sense. You are in the middle of the desert.

Pushing open the door, you immediately feel the affects of the air conditioned lobby, your shoulders subconsciously relaxing as you step inside. Your eyes skim the name of the hotel as you enter- HALA HALA- it's modern design seeming to fit it well.

Walking up to the reception desk, you notice that no one seems to be in sight. Perhaps you missed someone on your way in, so you opt to turn around, giving the lobby a quick sweep with your eyes. Still, you fail to see anybody, so you turn back around. Maybe there’s a bell you can ring or something.

Your whole body jumps as you see a man now standing behind the counter, seemingly having appeared from nowhere. His split dyed black and blond hair is slicked back and a smile rests on his features.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He says. "My name is Hongjoong, and I'm the manager of this hotel here. How may we be of service?"

You blink, needing a moment to collect your thoughts before you're able to remember the reason why you're here.

"Oh, right." You chuckle, somewhat awkwardly. "How much is a single room for the weekend? Two nights in particular?"

"Hmm, let's see," Hongjoong hums, typing something into the computer in front of him. His eyes scan the screen, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're in luck. We're having a special this weekend only on our single rooms. Two nights for the price of one."

Your jaw nearly drops at the amount he tells you. "Seriously?"

"Of course." He smiles.

"Great." You say, shock still clear on your face at the outrageously low amount he's quoted you. "I'll take it."

"Perfect." Hongjoong purrs out, eyes becoming hooded as he gives you a quick once over.

Again, you blink, and as soon as you do, his expression is back to being chipper once more. Without another thought, you're reaching into your purse to pull out your credit card, handing it over to Hongjoong in the next moment.

It only takes him a few minutes to ring you up, handing you your card back in the next moment.

"If you have any bags, Wooyoung will be more than happy to help you with them." Hongjoong smiles at you yet again, to which you return.

Thanking him with a nod of your head, you take the keycard he hands you. A shiver runs down his spine as his fingers graze yours, but luckily, you do not seem to notice.

In the next moment, you go to turn around, coming face to face with yet another man who seemingly appears from thin air.

"Need any help with your bags?" The new male asks, completely oblivious to the startle he just gave you.

"Oh, uh," you stammer out a reply, eyes drifting to another man who now sits on one of the front couches reading a newspaper. You swear he snorts out a laugh at the scene that's just played out before him. Weird, you could have sworn there was no one else in the lobby before. "I think I'm okay, but thanks for the offer."

"Really, it's no problem at all." He insists, already following you out of the front doors and back to your car.

"No, really," you huff out a faint laugh, reaching into the front seat to grab your backpack. "I only have the one."

What you fail to see as you lean into your car, is the way Wooyoung eyes you up and down. Licking his lips, his gaze settles on your ass, thoughts already running wild with what he wants to do with you. Finally, you’re here.

Blinking to clear his thoughts as you pull yourself back out of your car, he grins. Before you can protest, he's slipping your backpack out of your hand and slinging it over his shoulder.

"After you." Wooyoung's eyes shine as he watches disbelief paint your features, followed slowly by acceptance.

Pride fills his chest as you begin to lead him back into the hotel and to your assigned room for the weekend. He can feel Yunho's eyes piercing into his back as he walks past with you in front, the jealousy clear as day within the older male's gaze. The sound of paper rustling from behind him has a smirk pulling on Wooyoung's lips.

Reaching your room, you go to unlock the door.

A gasp escapes your lips as you step through the threshold, and Wooyoung knows that he's going to have to share with his brothers later the memory of that beautiful awestruck expression painting your face. Only, in the next second, worry takes its place.

"I don't think your boss gave me the key to the right room." You say, eyes taking in the grandiose space. "This looks like the Presidential Suite."

"It is." Wooyoung hums, placing your backpack carefully onto the chair beside him once he fully steps into the room.

"This can't be right." You shake your head, moving to rush past him and back into the hall.

"You asked for the single room, didn't you?" He quirks a brow, stepping in front of you to block your path.

"I did, but-"

"Then this is the right room." He assures you. "It is what you payed for."

"I don't think it is," you say, sidestepping him and moving into the hallway.

You manage to make it all the way back to the lobby in no time, walking straight up to the reception desk to see if you can catch Hongjoong once more. Unfortunately, he doesn't appear to be anywhere in sight, nor does that man from earlier that had been sitting and reading the newspaper on the couch. Wooyoung has up and disappeared on you, too. You sigh.

"How may I help you?"

"Holy-" you startle, spinning around to see another unfamiliar man now standing behind the reception desk. Yet again, it's like he’s appeared out of thin air. You clear your throat. "Uh, is Hongjoong around? I need to speak with him."

"He's busy at the moment, unfortunately." The man smiles kindly at you. "I'm Seonghwa, the assistant manager. I'm more than happy to help if there's something wrong. What seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, uh, there's no problem, really," you clarify, a nervous pull to your lips. "I just think Hongjoong gave me the key to the wrong room."

"Did he?" Seonghwa hums, somewhat amusedly. He doesn't blame Hongjoong one bit. The poor male was probably too distracted by your beauty, and the fact that he was finally seeing you in person for the first time. "Let me check for you."

"Thanks, I really appreciate it." You smile, handing the key card to him over the counter. This time, it’s Seonghwa who shivers as his fingers brush your own. ”I think he accidentally gave me the card to the Presidential Suite or something."

Swiping the card through the reader, Seonghwa types a few things on the keyboard. A few moments later, he's placing the keycard back in front of you on the counter.

"No, everything's right on our end. That's the correct key." He informs you.

Your eyes widen, lips parting as clear disbelief takes over your features. "You're sure?”

"Positive." Seonghwa smiles, purposely sliding the card closer to you. "Our policy here is to always put our guests' pleasure above anything else. So really, your reaction to the room is the highest compliment you could give us."

"I- uh-" you blink, taken aback by his words. "Sure?" You don't quite know how to respond, but you take the keycard back, nonetheless. "Thanks."

"Of course." Seonghwa straightens the front of his blazer out, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "I live to serve."

Though he fails to add a key word to the end of his sentence. Most certainly does he live to serve, to please. Most importantly, though, he lives to serve and please you.

“Okay…" Brushing off his words, you turn back around, shooting him a subtle side eyed look at his last comment once he can no longer see your face.

Heading back to your room, you shake your head, muttering about how odd this place is. First, it's literally in the middle of nowhere. Secondly, the exterior and interior looks brand new, much too pristine for the likes of the desert. Third, you've barely seen another occupant in this hotel besides the staff and that one guy from earlier. Fourth, a single room means the equivalent of a Presidential Suite. And finally, the prices are apparently dirt cheap.

Seriously, just what is going on here?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts once more, you reenter your room. Well, if you’ve technically payed for it, you might as well enjoy it.

Ten minutes later and you finally figure out how the jacuzzi tub works, allowing your body to sink into the frothing bubbles. The scent of lilac and honey drifts through the air, the complimentary soaps feeling fancier than anything you've ever experienced in your life.

Soaking in the tub for a bit, you allow yourself to relax, basking in the way the water seemingly eases the tension from your body. The only thing that could make this better would be a glass of wine, and maybe a massage, but that can wait for another time.

You close your eyes, letting your head fall back against the headrest as a content sigh leaves your lips. You haven't felt this relaxed in a long time.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of lustful eyes watches from the shadows. More than anything, wanting desperately to join you. To truly help you relax, in any and every way you desire.

Once you're done, you're quick to dry off, changing into a fresh pair of clothes. Smiling at your reflection in the mirror, you wink at yourself, blowing a kiss in the next moment. You need to start appreciating yourself more. Besides, you look damn good, if you do say so yourself!

Immediately, a thud sounds from behind you, making your heart skip a beat in your chest. Whipping around, your eyes scan the bathroom, searching for anything that could have made that loud noise. Nothing seems out of place, so it doesn’t look like anything could have fallen.

Odd. If you didn't know any better, it almost sounded like someone ran into something, or even stubbed their toe.

You frown, shaking your head. You've had a long drive, and an even longer day. You're probably just imagining things. Besides, you could really use that drink now.

Making your way back towards the lobby, you wander aimlessly, not really sure where to go. You're sure this hotel has a bar somewhere, you're just not sure which direction it would be in. Luckily for you, a plaque that you hadn't noticed before on the wall points you in the direction that you're looking for.

Stepping into the bar area, once again you're taken aback by how empty the place is. Well, empty except for the lone man standing behind the counter wiping at a glass with a cloth in his hand.

Walking up to the counter, you sit down at one of the stools, returning the kind smile the bartender sends your way.

"What can I get for you, pretty one?" The man asks, placing the glass onto the counter in front of himself.

You look down at the pristine wood beneath your hands as a warmth blooms on your cheeks. "Surprise me."

The man takes a moment to observe you carefully, his lips twitching upwards at the corners from seeing the affect his words have on you.

"I know just the thing," he replies, already moving to grab all of the ingredients he'll need to make you a drink. Two minute later and he pushes the now full glass towards you. "Et voila."

"Wow," grabbing the glass with a wonder filled expression, you take a sip. "This is my favourite drink. You must be a mind reader!"

You fail to see the way his brow quirks ever so slightly at your words, his smile turning nervous in the blink of an eye. Just as quickly as the expression appears, it's gone.

"So, what has you here on a Friday night?" He leans against the counter, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he rests his forearms on the edge of the wood. "Lover got you down?"

Your eyes widen, and you're quick to shake your head. "Oh, no. Definitely not."

"Huh," he has to hide the pleased smirk that threatens to pull onto his lips as he confirms what he and his brothers have only hoped. This makes things so much easier. "That's hard to believe, given a pretty one like you."

For the second time this evening, pride swells in his chest at seeing the affect his words have on you.

"Thank you," you mutter, not quite used to men being this bold with you upfront. "You're very kind, uh-"

"Mingi." He replies. “Please. Call me Mingi."

"Well, Mingi," the way you say his name has a pleasant shiver running down his spine. "You're sweet."

The smile that radiates from him nearly knocks the breath out of you.

"Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you," he says, and his eyes flash. "Anything at all."

"Yeah, actually," you nod a few times, looking around the room as if you’re afraid of being overheard. "Be honest," you lean in slightly and he can feel his heart beginning to race in his chest, "is the room service here good?"

"Uh," his brain malfunctions as his eyes glance down to your lips, a completely different form of room service other than what you probably intend flitting through his mind. One which he and his brothers would be more than happy to provide for you.

He swallows the sudden dryness in his throat. Thank fuck you don't seem to notice.

"You know, since you probably have an in with the cooks cause you're the bartender, and all." Your voice manages to pull him back to reality, and out of his all too vivid thoughts of what kind of room service he could provide for you. "Anything you would recommend? I'm starving."

"Oh, if you're hungry, why didn't you just say so?" He chuckles. "I'll order something for you, and have them bring it over to you here."

"That'd be great, thanks!" You reply happily, taking another sip of your drink. "I don't have any food allergies, by the way. Well, except for lactose, but it's more of an irritant than anything. No heavy creams or full glasses of milk."

Mingi blinks at you, and your mouth parts, a heat once again rising up your neck and all the way up your face. You can't believe you just said all that. To a stranger, no less.

A smile spreads across his lips, "got it. Thanks for letting me know."

Of course, they all know everything about you. Well, not everything. Yet. Still, it means so much to him how open you already are with him. Mingi knew you'd be perfect for him, for all of them. This just proves it even more.

Heading over to the tablet that he's left at the end of the bar to place an order for you, Mingi's heart warms. Already, he and some of his brothers have been able to show you how well they can take care of you, how well they can provide for you. All so that you will become theirs. And you will be, all in due time. After all, once they have you in their sights, you’ll never be able to leave them again.

"Lucifer Morningstar!" Mingi curses as he rounds the corner of the counter, the thud echoing in your ears as his knee makes contact with the side of the bar.

"Oh my god! Are you okay?" Your eyes widen, watching as he hunches over, hands placed over his one knee as he balances on his opposite foot.

You fail to see the way his eyes flash for the briefest of moments at your own exclamation.

"Yeah," he lets out a breath, easing into one of the barstools beside him. "I'll be fine."

"Ouch," you wince, thinking of how hard he must have banged his knee to have exclaimed that loudly. Speaking of, his words echo through your head, and you cannot contain the laugh that escapes you. When you see him turn his attention from the tablet to look at you, you wave a hand apologetically in the air in front of you. "Sorry, I've just never heard anyone use that exclamation before. Usually, they swear, or say ‘Jesus Christ’, or something like that."

It's low, but you swear you hear a growl reverberate throughout the room.

"Oh," Mingi laughs awkwardly, a nervousness to his demeanour all of a sudden. "Yeah, it's just something my brothers and I always say instead of your typical exclamations."

"Huh," you nod, turning back to the drink still held in your hands. "Interesting."

Not even ten minutes later, another man is entering the bar area with a plate of steaming food in his hands. Jealousy flares within him as he sees you conversing so casually with his brother, a soft smile he's only ever dreamed about being directed towards him resting on your face.

You hardly notice the new presence in the room, but Mingi does, causing a smirk to subtly pull at his features. You're simply too busy conversing with him at the moment. That is, until movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention.

"One freshly cooked meal for the lovely lady," the man says with a flirty smile as he places the plate of steaming food in front of you.

Thanking him politely, you're quick to turn back to Mingi once more. The men at this hotel certainly are something else.

"Okay, have we met before?" Your eyes narrow teasingly at the bartender who sits a few seats away from you. "Twice now you've made my favourite things."

"Hey now," the other man chimes in, a teasing lilt to his voice. "I was the one who cooked it. He didn't make squat."

He continues to stare at you, almost expectantly now, and you're quick to avert your gaze. Turning back to your food, you grab the fork that's been provided, and take a bite.

"Holy shit." You say once you've swallowed the food in your mouth. "This is incredible."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Lovely." The man replies, eyes shining with a certain fondness as he watches you eat what he’s prepared for you.

"Seriously, this is best dish of this that I’ve ever had," you say, placing another forkful into your mouth.

He chuckles, loving the way your praise has Mingi glaring dagger at him. Serves him right.

"Oh, where are my manners?" He tuts at himself. "My name is San, and I am very pleased to meet you."

Suddenly, your hand is in his, and he's bringing his lips down to place a gentle kiss onto your skin. Tingles erupt throughout his own body wherever he makes contact with yours, and he has to stop the rumble of contentment that builds within his chest from escaping.

Again, you're taken aback by his boldness, and you swear you see something in Mingi's eyes flash black as San does this. Only, when you blink, it's like nothing ever happened. Weird.

The next hour is spent with the both of them at the bar, simply conversing with each other. You can't count the amount of times they've successfully made you laugh, or even shy at some of the things they say, but they are.

Purposefully, each time one of them does something that has you reacting a certain way, the other is sure to do the same. There's no way they're letting each other one up them. That is, until Hongjoong is scolding them within their mind's link to knock it off.

All too soon for their liking, you're heading off to bed, much to their disappointment. It is late at night, and you have had a long day. Needless to say, it's starting to all catch up to you. You can feel the exhaustion beginning to claw at your mind.

Falling into the plush bed, you're practically out as soon as your head hits the pillows. Funny, you could have swore you saw something shift within the darkness of your room just before you closed your eyes. Only, you find you're too tired to care, quickly falling into the realm of your subconscious as sleep takes hold.

Within the confines of your room, two figures materialize from the shadows. Carefully, one moves to stand beside you while the other gently sits on the opposite side of the bed.

"I still can't believe that she’s here," Jongho says breathlessly, hand reaching out to caress the side of your face.

"Finally, we have her," Yunho replies, feeling as wonderstruck as Jongho right now.

You shift slightly, breath hitching in your throat.

They both freeze. Luckily, you don't seem to wake, allowing them to breathe a sigh of relief as they continue to watch over you as you sleep.

“She's so beautiful," Jongho watches you in awe, thumb stroking over the skin of your cheek as his heart soars in his chest.

Yunho hums his agreement, his eyes flashing briefly in the darkness. "Ours."

"Ours." Jongho confirms, a content smile pulling at his lips as his own eyes flash, watching over you like he always should. Like he always will be. From now, until forever.

Morning comes with bright light streaming in through the large windows, the sun's rays warming you as you stretch your body out on the bed. A yawn escapes your lips as you rub at your eyes. Sitting up, you throw off the covers, making your way to the bathroom to freshen up for the day.

One look outside the windows, and at your weather app, has a sigh escaping you. It's going to be awfully hot today, the sun shining unapologetically in the sky with few clouds drifting along. In the back of your mind, you begin to wonder what else there is to do in this hotel.

Opening the door to your room, you go to step into the hallway, only for your path to be blocked. Sitting there in front of you is a trolley, what appears to be an extravagant spread of food placed precariously before you. At least, you're hoping that that's what's beneath all these trays with metal food coverings on them.

Leaning out into the hall, you shift your head from side to side, attempting to see if this cart was meant for anyone else. When you don't see anyone around, you look back at the cart. This time, your eyes catch on a folded card placed just beside the small vase with a single red rose held within.

Picking up the note, you're quick to open it, seeing as it's addressed to you. You blink as you read the note over a few times, a soft smile painting your features, yet still surprised, nonetheless.

Please enjoy this complementary breakfast from us to you.

~ Your friends at HALA HALA

Rolling the cart into your room, you're quick to remove all of the coverings. The smell of your favourite breakfast foods greet you as you take in the fresh spread before you. Your jaw nearly drops, torn between thinking that this is incredible, and that something strange is going on here.

Oh well, at least you're getting free food out of this.

Once you're finished eating, you clean up as best you can and head downstairs for the day. A book rests in your hand, figuring that you can find someplace quiet to read and pass the time. Maybe you’ll even listen to music while you do so.

Reaching the lobby, you figure you can ask Hongjoong or Seonghwa where the best place to read in the hotel might be. Someplace that’s quiet. Someplace that’s comfortable. Luck seems to be on your side this morning, too, for you see both Hongjoong and Seonghwa standing behind the reception desk. They seem to be in a pretty heated discussion, their voices too low to hear even as you approach them. Once you get close enough, they're both turning to you with fond smiles on their faces. You didn't even know they saw you approaching.

"How can we help you, dear?" Seonghwa is the first to speak, meeting your gaze.

"Uh, a bit of a weird question, I know," you begin, somewhat nervously, "but where's the best place to get some reading done around here? You guys don't have a library, do you?"

Even though you say it jokingly, Hongjoong's response surprises you.

"We do," he hums, and seeing your mildly shocked expression, eyes widening and all, has a warmth flooding his veins. He knew he'd be able to impress you with the amount of time and effort they put into this place. "Unfortunately it's closed for cleaning today."

"Aw," your expression falls slightly, "darn."

"I would recommend our outdoor seating area beside the pool," Seonghwa motions a little ways off to the side, and you can see a set of glass doors leading to a courtyard of sorts. "It'll be warm today, so you can also benefit by taking a swim if you'd like.”

"Oh, no, I don't think I'll do any swimming," you shake your head.

At this, they both frown. Your words manage to pull them from their thoughts of holding you in their lap with their arms around you, their head resting on your shoulder as you read.

"Why not?" Before Seonghwa can stop himself, the question escapes him, and even the younger male beside him shoots him a look. Though, where yours is of confusion, Hongjoong's is of warning.

"This is really the best I have," you reply sheepishly, motioning down towards your outfit- a simple t-shirt and shorts- with a tilt of your head.

"Go ahead and at least dip your feet in." Hongjoong replies, softly assuring you with his next words. "No one will judge you here."

"Okay," you smile softly, "maybe I will, then."

Again, you thank the two men before you as you begin to head towards the glass doors Seonghwa pointed out to you.

Stepping through the archway, the heavy desert heat surrounds you immediately. You let out an exhale through your nose, taking in the sight of the tropical plants around you. There's a small path leading further into the courtyard and to the pool which you can see sitting right in the centre of it. At least there appears to be tons of shade. Just how you like it.

Setting yourself up in one of the plush outdoor chaises, you kick off your sandals.

Leaning back onto the comfortable pillows, you bring your feet up to rest on the cushion, keeping your knees bent so you can hold your book on your lap. You smile softly as a gentle breeze flits passed.

Opening your book, you begin to read.

Not even five minutes later, a man approaches you, a glass held in his hand. You tense, worried that something's about to happen considering you're the only one sitting outside by the pool. Or so it seems.

"Here, I thought you might like a glass of water," he smiles kindly at you as he hands you the glass. "You should stay hydrated in this heat."

"Oh," you reply, placing your book down momentarily so that you can take the glass of water he's offering to you. "Thank you."

"Damn, beat me to it already," another voice says from the opposite side of you, successfully managing to startle you as you hadn't heard anyone approaching. "That's our Yeosangie for you."

"Yunho," the man you've now learned is apparently Yeosangie says, his eyes narrowing slightly at the taller male, "what are you doing here?"

The man - Yunho - is one that you recognize form last night. He was the one reading the newspaper in the lobby.

"Seonghwa told me that our very special guest here was sitting by the pool, and that I should bring her some water to help keep her hydrated." He replies, and sure enough, you see another glass of water being held in his hand. "Like I said though, it looks like you beat me to it."

"One can never have too much water," you say, catching both of their attention, and snapping them out of the pointed looks they had just been sharing.

"Right you are, gorgeous," Yunho grins, handing you the second glass.

Your brows raise slightly at the name he calls you. Hell, it seems almost all of the male workers at this hotel have called you some variation of a nickname or pet name at some point or other. Needless to say, it's a bit odd; you aren’t used to this kind of attention.

"Anyways, I'm Yunho," he says with a grin, pointing over at the shorter male in the next moment, "and that grump over there is Yeosang. If you look over there," again, Yunho points in a specific direction, drawing your gaze to the two men that have appeared on the opposite side of the pool, "that's San and Jongho. Though, I heard you already met San last night."

You nod in response, noticing how the one you've recently been told is Jongho waves quite enthusiastically at you with a large smile on his face. You huff in amusement, lips quirking upwards as you send a polite wave back. If you didn't know any better, from the way the male averts his gaze in the next moment, you'd say that you've just made him blush.

"If you need anything, do not hesitate to let us know. " Yeosang draws your attention to him once more, a certain spark lighting behind his eyes. A spark which you do not understand, but the other males do. One that is practically begging for you to come to them, to seek them out for anything and everything you might need. Anything at all.

"Thanks," you smile. "I appreciate it."

Really, you'd just like to be left alone to read your book now in peace.

"Well, we'll leave you to read in peace now," Yunho grins, walking over and wrapping his arm around Yeosang's shoulders. “Enjoy.”

Blinking in shock, your whole body tenses. Okay, this is starting to get a bit freaky. It’s almost as if Yunho just read you mind.

Shaking your head slightly to clear your thoughts, you grab your book once more. No, that isn’t possible. You’re just overthinking things due to the stressful week of work you’ve just had. This is your chance to relax, and you have every intention to do so.

Opening your book once more, you begin to read.

Across from you, the four boys converge.

Jongho is still reeling from having you smile so brightly at him, and you waved back. Yeosang, on the other hand, crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing at the three males before him. Yunho watches you carefully from across the pool, his eyes subtly trailing over your form. Even San cannot help but drink in the exposed skin of your legs on full display, the sight of your bare thighs making his mouth water.

What each wouldn’t give to be between them right now…

“Control yourselves,” Yeosang hisses through his teeth, sending pointed looks towards San and Yunho, “the both of you.”

“Like you haven’t been thinking the exact same things since you saw them.” San rolls his eyes, keeping his voice low while Yunho just chuckles from beside him.

“At least I have some subtlety,” Yeosang huffs, annoyance clear on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest. “The decency to not have my thoughts project themselves into everyone else’s subconscious.”

Well, I for one, was rather enjoying the mental image of her lounging in that chair by the pool. Wooyoung’s voice echoes through all of their minds. I’d much rather be out there spending time with her, you lucky bastards. Instead, I’m stuck inside on cleaning duty.

Stop complaining. They can all practically hear Hongjoong roll his eyes. You’re the one who begged to be the one to tidy up her room.

That I did. Wooyoung hums. Really, you guys are missing out. Her scent is everywhere.

Now you’re just rubbing it in. Mingi sighs, and they can all hear the pout in his voice.

Oh, panties! Wooyoung cheers, and they all practically let out a groan in need. And they’ve been worn! Don’t mind if I ‘yes’.

Wooyoung. Seonghwa’s voice echoes through their heads, serving as a warning. That is, until they hear his next words. Save some for the rest of us, yeah?

You’re all despicable. Yeosang has to resist the urge to shake his head.

Says the one who was peeping on them having a bath last night. San adds, hiding his smirk behind his drink as he takes a sip.

Immediately, Yeosang’s cheeks flare, his harsh gaze landing on the aforementioned male. That’s different!

Relax. Yunho chuckles, leaning back in his own chaise as he watches you turn the next page of your book. So beautiful, and so oblivious to the desire swirling within each of them for you, and you alone.

We’ve all thought about it before. Jongho adds.

Well, some more than others. Hongjoong’s laugh reverberates through all of them. Let’s just make sure everything is ready for tonight. Then we can really have our fun.

Without hesitation, they all agree, and unbeknownst to you, four pairs of eyes turn to look at you from across the pool. You don’t even look up from your book. At least, not until movement catches your attention. Then, you cannot help the way your eyes widen, gaze flitting between the pages of your book and subtly attempting to check out the male making his way over to the edge of the pool.

"Put a shirt on, you heathen." Yeosang hisses at San. "You're making them uncomfortable.”

San simply quirks a brow, turning to face Yeosang in the next second. His expression says it all.

A smugness soon settles over his features as he feels your gaze trailing over the expanse of his back. The skin of which he knows would look even better if it were covered in your marks. He rolls his shoulders.

Turning back around, San watches you quickly avert your gaze, focussing a little too intently on the page you’re now on in your book. He smirks, slowly sitting at the edge of the pool so that he can lower himself in. Purposefully, he tenses the muscles in his arms as he sinks in, wanting- no, needing- your gaze on him. As soon as he feels your stare, he knows he’s captivated you once more.

See? See how toned his arms are? How well they would look wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear? San bets you would sound so divine as he makes the sweetest love to you, but he knows that you’ll taste even better.

He doesn’t even need to probe your mind to know you’re thinking about him, too.

Okay, now you’re just showing off. Mingi whines.

Not my fault you got caught having to set up for tonight. San smirks, and he watches as you seemingly come back to reality, only to see that smug expression on his face.

You avert your gaze, embarrassed you got caught staring yet again. Reaching for one of the glasses of water on the table beside you, you suddenly feel your body going hot. All of these attractive men will be the death of you, you’re sure.

You fail to see the way their lips quirk upwards as a result.

Taking a sip of water, you feel yourself start to relax at the coldness that meets your tongue. Carefully, you tilt your head to the side, placing the cool of the glass onto the skin of your neck. You let out a content hum, eyes fluttering closed as a result. At least this is helping to cool you off.

Jongho swallows the sudden dryness in his throat, and he’s knows he’s not the only one affected by your actions. The sudden display of your neck as you tilt your head back, so open and vulnerable, is practically begging for them to have a taste of your delicate skin with their tongues. Perhaps a few bite marks would suffice as well…

Thoughts of tonight, and what is still yet to come fill Jongho’s head, and he can feel the anticipation eating him alive. Making you theirs could not come soon enough.

Speaking of… Hongjoong’s voice resounds through the younger’s head. Jongho, it’s time.

The other three watch as Jongho stands from his spot, beginning to slowly make his way over to you. There’s a sort of nervousness to his steps, one which they all understand. Your answer right now will depend on how the beginning of this afternoon and evening with them will begin.

Glancing up from the pages of your book, you notice Jongho now hovering near you.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” A soft smile rests on his features as he meets your gaze, an air of nervousness surrounding him.

“Uh, sure.” You blink, quirking a brow at him in curiosity in the next second. “Those guys bothering you too much, or something?”

Even though you say it teasingly, Jongho lets out a chuckle, “you could say that.”

Slowly, and with each move deliberate, Jongho takes the seat directly beside you. It’s the closest he can get to you currently without sitting in the same chaise with you, and pulling you into his lap like he so badly wants to do.

Soon. He tells himself. He’ll be able to do that soon.

A few minutes pass by, and it kills him not to have your direct attention on him like his is so attuned to you. No, you’re still much more focussed on your book for the moment. That is, until your tongue clicks loudly, your book slamming closed once you place your bookmark carefully back inside.

“That bad, huh?” He jokes, one of his eyebrows raised in amusement as he looks at you.

“You don’t know the half of it,” you roll your eyes. “But it’s the last book in the series and I’ll be damned if I don’t see it to completion.”

“Why do you continue to read it if it’s that horrible?” Jongho’s head tilts, genuine curiosity shining in his eyes.

“Spite.” You reply immediately. “Pure spite.”

Jongho blinks, intrigued. “What’s it about?”

So you tell him, and fuck, if Jongho doesn’t fall harder for you right then and there. The passion in which you speak with, the fire he sees light behind your eyes as he watches you wave the book around in your hand, even going to far as to hit the cover a few times to emphasize your points, has him hanging on to every word.

You’re so captivating; mesmerizing to watch and listen to, that he doesn’t even realize just how much time has passed since he first came to sit beside you. Plus, he’s gotten to learn so much about you in such a short period of time. Ecstatic doesn’t even begin to describe how he’s feeling at the moment.

The only thing that would make this moment better would be if you agreed to what he’s about to ask you.

“Anyways, sorry for the long ass rant,” you apologize, somewhat sheepishly. “There’s just so much I could say about these books and this author.”

“Never feel like you should apologize for something you’re passionate about.” Comes his honest reply. “Especially not to me. I could listen to you talk for hours.”

Jongho’s words catch you by surprise, stunning you into a shy silence. In the back of your mind, his bluntness makes something within you question his words. You’ve only just met, and he’s being very forward. Still, his smile is kind, and it causes you to crack a small one of your own.

“Really, though,” he adds, a calculating look to his gaze now. One which you miss. “We’re hosting a special dinner tonight for everyone. You should join us.”

“Everyone at the hotel?” You question, a minor furrow to your brows.

“You could say that.” Jongho nods. “We’d really love it if you could attend.”

“How fancy are we talking here?”

Jongho smiles. You seem interested, and he could not be happier. “Wear you finest.”

“Oh.” Immediately, your expression falls. “I don’t think I’ll be able to attend, then. I’m afraid I don't have anything with me that’s appropriate for a dinner like that.”

“No need to worry,” Jongho assures you. “There’s a tailor’s shop that Seonghwa runs at the far end of the hotel. I’m sure there’s something there that you can wear for the evening.”

“That’s…” you try and find the right word. Suspicious. Convenient. “Interesting.”

“Great! We’ll be expecting you around eight.” Jongho stands, and it’s only now do you realize that the other three males have vacated the vicinity, leaving the two of you utterly alone. Something in his eyes flash, the smile that paints his lips serving to unnerve you slightly. “Don’t be late.”

Without another word, or even giving you the chance to respond, Jongho is leaving you to yourself by the pool.

Glancing around, you blink a few times, hardly able to wrap your head around not even seeing the others so much as leave. Checking the time, you see that it’s about halfway past two in the afternoon. Perhaps you should go check out this tailor’s place Jongho had mentioned earlier. The last thing you want to do is be stuck without an outfit for tonight, especially if they’re now expecting you for dinner.

A few minutes later, and after dropping off your book back to your room, you’re standing in front of the doors to the tailor shop. Taking a breath, you step inside.

Quite a spacious room greets you, fairly open concept in design with clothes scattered along the walls on different racks. They seem to be organized by type, and a part of you wonders if some of these clothes have been accidentally left behind or forgotten by previous patrons of the hotel.

The sound of a curtain sliding on a rail catches your attention, and your eyes are drawn to the back of the shop where Seonghwa seems to emerge from.

“Ah, there you are. I’ve been expecting you.” He smiles, and at your questioning look, he adds, “Jongho was just here to fill me in on what you need.”

“Uh,” there’s a certain drawl to the way he says those words that have your lips parting slightly. You clear your throat. “That was quick.”

“Come.” Seonghwa seemingly brushes off your statement, turning around to step back through the way he came. “I’ve got a few options you might like.”

Following him into the back of the shop, you realize that there’s a small fitting area with a large panelled mirror positioned around a raised circular stand. A dressing room rests just beside it, another curtain drawn in front of it for some semblance of privacy. To the opposite side of the mirror, a rack rests with eight different dresses hanging delicately on silk hangers.

The awe filled expression that rests on your face has his heart racing in his chest, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “Pick out your favourite, and then you can try it on.”

You step closer to the rack, hands ghosting the material of the gowns.

“Are you sure these aren’t too…” you hesitate, searching for the right word as you turn to meet his gaze, “extravagant for me?”

“If anything, none of them could ever do you justice.” His honest reply has a heat rising to your cheeks, and even though you turn to continue inspecting the dresses, you can feel his gaze piercing your back.

Saying nothing, your gaze lands on one dress in particular. Pulling it slightly out from the rack, you examine the lace material. The black colour which starts at the swooped neckline slowly transitions into a navy, until it fades into a royal blue at the very bottom of the floor length skirt. Plus, as an added bonus, there are lace sleeves which look as if they’ll reach all the way down your arms and to your wrists. You’ve never seen a dress more perfect for you, or that you’ve loved more at first glance.

“Do you like that one?” Seonghwa’s voice manages to pull you out of your own thoughts, an eagerness to his words. He knew he picked right when he grabbed that gown for you. The thought alone of you wearing it nearly sent him to his knees, and it’s in his favourite colours, too.

“I do.” You confirm with a hum, looking over the dress for another time.

There’s only one slight issue that you can see. The dress appears to be slightly form fitting, and you’re not sure how it may look on you.

“Well, go on then,” he encourages with a smile, motioning to the dressing room behind you. “Try it on.”

For a brief moment, you hesitate, your hand pausing halfway when you go to reach for the hanger. That is, until you decide that there’s really no harm in simply trying it on. If you don’t like it, there are several others you can choose from. Besides, the red one you see hanging right next to it is definitely not a bad second choice.

Gently, you remove the dress from the rack, stepping into the small dressing room in order to change. Fortunately for you, the dress seems to fit like a glove - having no issues slipping into it, and pulling the zipper up with ease. Unfortunately for you, there’s no mirrors in this little dressing room, which means you have to step outside in order to see how you look wearing the gown.

Really, in hind sight, you saw this coming. However, faced with the prospect of stepping out in a slightly form fitting gown in front of a man you don’t know, a handsome man who has complimented you, nonetheless, you find yourself feeling a bit self conscious. Perhaps this dress wasn’t the best choice after all. Still, you really do want to see how you look.

Taking a deep breath to steel your nerves, you slide the curtain open.

“Wow,” Seonghwa’s breath gets stolen right from his lungs as he sees you step out in his dress. His desire for you, which roars unashamedly beneath the surface of his skin, becomes the most difficult it’s even been to hold back. So much so, that he lets his eyes slip for the briefest of moment, the darkness swirling within.

Thank fuck you don’t seem to notice, too busy smoothing out the front of the material as worry seems to tug at your features.

“That bad, huh?” You grimace, fingers twitching at your sides as you stand there in front of the mirror, tense as anything. “I knew I shouldn’t have-“

“You look beautiful.” His raw voice- a few tones deeper than usual and on the verge of sounding strained- rumbles out from his chest.

So badly does he just want to walk over to you, rip that dress right off, and pull you into his arms as he pleases you in any and every way he knows how. He’s glad he blocked off his mind link with the others for this occasion, otherwise they’d receive his much too vivid thoughts about taking you up against the wall right now and claiming you as his like he’s always longed to do.

Besides, they wanted who’s dress you wore tonight at dinner to be a surprise.

Seonghwa’s lips part as he swallows the dryness in his throat, attempting to at least control his breathing to no avail. You really have no idea the effect you have on him, on all of them, do you?

Lifting your head to meet his gaze through the reflection of the mirror, you’re caught off guard by how dark his eyes have become. Even his breathing has gone irregular, his chest rising and falling dramatically with each inhale that he takes.

When you blink, you expect it to all just be your imagination. Only, this time, that does not seem to be the case. Seonghwa is still looking at you with those eyes when you reopen your own - dark eyes filled with an undeniable lust for you.

Slowly, Seonghwa begins to close the distance between the two of you, stalking towards you like a predator would its prey. You cannot help but freeze, eyes following his every movement as he comes to stand behind you. The way he places his hands tenderly onto your waist, holding onto you so gently, completely contrasts the darkness continuously swirling within his irises.

Tilting his head forward, Seonghwa presses the lower half of his face against your shoulder, placing his lips onto your bare skin. His eyes flutter closed, nose slowly trailing up the side of your neck as he shifts to breathe in your scent.

A shiver runs down your spine as you feel the ghost of his breath tickle you right below your ear. Your heart jumps into your throat.

Of all the words he could use to describe you right now - sinful, breathtaking, gorgeous, his - he finally settles on the perfect one.

“Divine.” He exhales, voice low as he leans forward to rest his head against your own.

Your breath hitches as you feel his grip tighten around your waist, fingers sinking into the softness of your skin as he scents you once more. The uncertainty he can sense coming off of you has him halting in his tracks, a sense of dread washing over him. He might have taken things a bit too far just now. You’re not even officially theirs yet.

He silently curses himself. What good is control when he apparently doesn’t seem to have any around you? You make him go crazy. You’re just so irresistible.

Feeling his grip slacken ever so slightly, you move to turn around in his arms. Only, when you twist your body to face him, he’s no longer standing behind you. Instead, he seems to be rummaging around in a box off to the side, not even looking at you.

Did you just imagine what just happened?

You shake your head. That can’t be possible. You aren’t that touched starved so as to imagine intimate scenarios with the first handsome man who gives you an ounce of attention. At least, you don’t think you are.

“Oh, are you finished looking over the dress?” Seonghwa hums, head lifting to meet your gaze. Straightening himself back up with a small smile on his face, you notice an elegant pair of shoes in his hands. “You’ve been staring at your refection for quite a while. Is everything okay?”

You blink. Did you really just zone out for the last few minutes?

“Yeah-” you clear your throat. “Yeah. Everything fine.”

“If you’re still not sure if you like the gown, why don’t you try it with these?” He offers you the shoes that he holds in his hand. “They should fit.”

“Oh,” you take the shoes from his outstretched hand, “thanks.”

It was only for a second, but his fingers grazed your own. Immediately he felt that all too familiar beast stirring within him, and after he had just managed to calm it down, too. His hands are still burning from being able to feel you beneath his touch.

Slipping the shoes onto your feet, you turn to your reflection once more. This time, a smile rests on your features as you take in your appearance. You really do look stunning.

“Are you really sure I can wear this tonight?” Your voice manages to call Seonghwa’s attention once more. “I mean, is it really okay if I borrow it?”

“Of course!” His answer is immediate, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles at you. “In fact, why don’t you keep it? It looks far better on you than the hanger, anyways.”

Again, a warmth spreads itself across your cheeks as you glance away shyly. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Darling.” He hums, a fond look shining within his eyes. “Now, why don’t you change and I’ll wrap up that dress for you?”

“Alright,” you reply softly, already heading back into the little dressing room and sliding the curtain shut behind you.

In no time at all, you’re back into your regular clothes, gown resting on the hanger once more. You take a moment to admire the material again before exiting the dressing room, the dress draped over your arm.

Handing it over to Seonghwa, he places it into a carrying bag for you, careful not to damage the material. The sound of the zipper closing pulls you out of your thoughts, many of which you’ve been attempting to sort through in the past few minutes alone.

“If you need any help with your makeup, I’m sure Hongjoong would be more than happy to assist you.” Seonghwa tells you, handing you the bag with the gown held within.

“I didn’t know he could do makeup,” you hum, impressed. “That’s pretty cool. I think I’ll be okay, though.”

With a nod of his head and a final farewell until tonight, Seonghwa watches you leave the little tailor’s shop. His eyes follow you for as long as he can, and as soon as you disappear from his sight, a sigh is falling from his lips.

Running his fingers through his hair, he shakes his head.

You really have no idea what you do to him. To all of them. How long they’ve waited just to catch a glimpse of you in person, planning everything out perfectly down to each and every last minute. Nothing is going to stop them from finally claiming what they’ve all long since desired.

By the end of the night, you will be theirs.

Making it back to your room, you’re quick to step inside. Carefully, you hang the dress off to the side for later tonight, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Glancing at the time, you see a few hours have passed already, and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

There’s no way time should have moved that quickly! It should have only taken you an hour, maybe an hour and a half at most to have tried on that dress with Seonghwa. You could have swore it was only half passed two when you first made your way over there. So, how can it already be five o’clock?

You huff, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. Maybe you really are losing it. First, you’re missing seeing people that are apparently right in front of your eyes. Then, you keep swearing you’re hearing things, like that weird thump in the bathroom last night. Now, you’re pretty sure you’re starting to hallucinate things.

Perhaps it’s best if you leave this place after dinner tonight instead of in the morning like you originally planned. You would leave sooner, but they’re already expecting you for the evening, and you do not want to be rude. Especially given everything they’ve done and provided for you in the past twenty-four hours alone.

Either way, you just hope this evening passes quickly, and without a hitch.

An hour later and you begin to get ready for the evening. You’re just glad you remembered to pack your makeup bag. Once you’re finished, you still have a bit of time to spare, so you spend the remainder reading some more of your book while you wait. Around five to the hour, you head to the lobby.

Emerging from the hallway, you actually see someone standing in front of the reception desk wearing a finely tailored suit. You watch as the man turns around, and you come face to face with Yeosang whose eyes light up as soon as he sees you. You return his kind smile with a polite nod of your head.

“I’m here to escort you to dinner.” He says, extending an arm out to you. “Shall we?”

You loop your arm around his, “we shall.”

As Yeosang walks with you down a separate hall and to a section of the hotel you have yet to traverse, he revels at your touch. The feeling of your arm wrapped around his is like no other, skin tingling beneath the material of his suit wherever you touch. The whole time, he cannot help but steal glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

When he first saw you emerge from the hallway, his breath got caught in his throat. You look absolutely divine, even if you’re not wearing the dress he had picked out for you in hopes that you would wear it.

His jaw had twitched at that, slight irritation flooding his veins at the thought of you wearing Seonghwa’s gown tonight. Well, let’s see what the others make of it, and if they think the eldest might have influenced your decision as well.

After a solid minute of walking, in which you make idle smalltalk with Yeosang, you reach a set of intricately carved wooden doors. You marvel at both the size and design as they open, seemingly on their own, to reveal a finely decorated room. A room which looks much too small to house all of the guest that you were sure were going to be joining you for dinner.

A single table with nine place settings sits in the centre of the room, lit candles lining the middle.

Around the table, the other seven stand precariously placed throughout the room. Some converse with each other while a few others sip on the drinks they all seem to be holding in their hands. Each wears a finely tailored suit, wanting to look their absolute best for you.

As soon as those doors open, and they see you walking through the threshold being escorted by Yeosang, all of their focus immediately belongs to you.

Heartbeats accelerate all around, shivers running down a few of their spines as they take in the ethereal being that is you standing before them. Each man takes his time trailing his gaze over your body, drinking in the image that is you, and searing this moment into their memories for years to come.

Finally, after all of their planning, after all of their efforts and hard work, there you stand. Ready for their taking.

A few send pointed looks in Seonghwa’s direction at seeing the choice in dress you’re wearing, but they can deal with that later. Even if you are not wearing their own chosen gown for you, there is no denying your beauty.

Mingi is the first to seemingly snap out of the spell you’ve captivated them in at your arrival. Instantly, he’s appearing at your side, offering you a glass similar to all of theirs. You take it with a small nod in thanks, noticing how Yeosang already seems to be holding one of his own. You didn’t even notice him take one.

Taking a sip of your drink, your eyes search the room once more.

“Not to be rude, or presumptuous, or anything,” you begin, a look of mild confusion on your face, “but isn’t this dinner supposed to be for everyone staying at the hotel?”

“It is,” Hongjoong confirms, a gentle expression taking over his features. “Everyone is already here.”

He seriously cannot be telling you that you are their only guest at this hotel. It’s impossible.

“I know,” Yunho chuckles. “It’s hard to believe that you’re our only guest.”

There he goes again, seemingly reading your mind.

“Please,” Hongjoong motions to the table before you, “join us.”

A smile that you’re sure is meant to assure you appears on his face, only serving to unnerve you at the way his eyes lock onto your figure, watching your ever move.

Stepping towards the table, you see Seonghwa already pulling a chair out for you to sit in. Of course it would have to be the one right in the centre of the set of three.

Four chairs rest across from you, while two more sit at each head.

Slowly, you take your seat, allowing Seonghwa to tuck you in while thanking him politely.

As if they’ve done this countless times before, the eight men slide up to the table beside their own respective seats, moving fluidly as one to sit down. Hongjoong sits to your left while Seonghwa takes the seat to your right. Mingi sits at one head of the table, while San takes the other end. Across from you rests Yunho, Yeosang, Jongho, and Wooyoung in that order exactly, starting from your left.

You’re starting to think you stumbled upon a cult or something by accident.

Wooyoung has to cover up a snort of laughter just as he goes to take a sip of his drink, choking on the liquid in the next second. Jongho pats his back comfortingly.

“Are you alright?” Your brow furrows in concern as you look at the male across from you.

“Never better.” He clears his throat, offering you a cheeky grin in response.

In the next moment, Yunho is drawing your attention onto him as he asks you a question, a casual conversation soon starting between the nine of you. The more time you spend surrounded by these eight men, the more you start to relax. You don’t necessarily feel uncomfortable around them, it’s just the hotel that’s giving you such an ominous feeling.

Perhaps that’s where you go wrong.

It happens so suddenly, that you almost miss it. One second the place settings in front of you are empty, and the next, a steaming plate of food appears before your very eyes.

You startle in your seat, pressing yourself as far into the back of it as you can. With wide eyes, you stare down at your meal.

“Is something the matter?” Hongjoong asks, and you look up to find eight pairs of eyes all staring at you.

“Uh-” your voice catches in your throat, not quite sure how to describe the phenomenon that has just occurred in front of you.

“San worked very hard all evening on the meals,” Hongjoong adds, a glimmer in his eyes.

“I hope you enjoy!” Said man calls from just off to the side.

“Right,” you reply, somewhat warily. How can they all be acting like nothing abnormal just happened? “Thanks.”

Picking up your utensils, you clutch the steak knife tightly in your hand. Intently, you stare down at your food, half expecting your asparagus to come alive in the next second and start swishing from side to side like dragon tails.

“Go ahead,” Jongho catches your gaze from across the table, a piece of steak already speared on his fork and poised in the air halfway to his mouth. “Dig in.”

Immediately, you comply, worried you might appear rude for hesitating for so long before taking a bite of your meal. Softly, you chew the bite of your steak, the flavour melting on your tongue.

“Well?” San looks to you, almost expectantly.

“It’s delicious,” you reply, your whole demeanour calming as you see that look of joy take over his features. “Like always.”

“Our Sannie really knows how to cook,” Mingi says, a teasing lilt to his voice despite his praise.

“He’s the only one who won’t burn down the kitchen if left alone in one.” Yeosang replies, and you notice the way Mingi looks almost scandalized at his words.

“I would never!” He gasps dramatically.

The laugh that they all hear fall from your lips is like music to their ears.

The more they continue to bicker, the more you seem to ease back into your own comfort around them. You even go so far as to chime in here and there once again in the conversation, much to each of their pleasure, and relief in some cases. Just as you’re beginning to converse with Yunho, Jongho, and Yeosang about your favourite books, Wooyoung spares a glance around the table, locking gazes with the man sitting across from him.

So, are we going to discuss how our eldest here influenced our beloved to wear his dress? Wooyoung’s eyes narrow ever so subtly at the man before him.

Do you really think that little of me, brother? Seonghwa hums in response, quirking his brow slightly in challenge.

He’s not the only one suspicious of what your intentions were. San chimes in, resting his elbows on the table in front of him and clasping his hands beneath his chin, seeing as he’s finished his meal for the time being.

I had no influence over her decision what-so-ever. She made that choice all on her own. Seonghwa replies. It’s not my fault you all seem to lack taste.

Mingi chokes on his drink, blood rushing to the tips of his ears as annoyance floods his veins. At least you spare him a concerned glance, your inquiry into whether he’s okay or not immediately soothing his anger.

Watch it, Hwa. Hongjoong warns, sparing a glance at the male from the corner of his eyes, only to get enraptured by your excited expression in the next moment.

What happened in there, anyways? Yeosang adds without so much as breaking eye contact with you.

Wouldn’t you like to know? Seonghwa leans back slightly in his seat, a certain smugness surrounding him.

Yes. Jongho’s voice echoes through their heads. I think we’d all like to know that.

What did you do? Yunho asks, somewhat accusatory. He’s still suspicious that the eldest had something to do with which dress you picked for this evening, just as the rest of them are.

Fucking hell. Seonghwa lets out a small puff of air, low enough that you do not take notice. In a flash, Seonghwa is sharing his memories with the rest of them. Well, only certain aspects of them. There. Happy now?

No. Mingi grumbles. Now, I just feel worse.

Somehow knowing you were telling the truth makes my blood boil. Yeosang adds bitterly.

Can we not focus on how wonderful she looks instead? Jongho questions, a glint of awe shining in his eyes as he looks across the table at you while resting his head in the palm of his hand.

Has anyone thought to compliment her yet tonight? Hongjoong’s brow furrows only slightly as he doesn’t recall any of them showering you with any of the praise you deserve.

“By the way, I must say,” Wooyoung speaks, drawing your full, undivided attention towards him, “you look absolutely riveting this evening. That dress looks wondrous on you.”

“Oh, uh,” instantly, heat flares to your cheeks and your eyes go wide. A mental image of your little escapade, or rather, what you think you had simply imagined in that shop with Seonghwa flits through your mind. You blink, unaware of how the males around you all stiffen, the air in the room shifting in intensity. “Thank you.”

Park Seonghwa. The way Hongjoong drawls his name out has the elder male holding his breath in anticipation. Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of us?

Not particularly. Either Seonghwa is incredibly brave to continue hiding this from his brothers, or incredibly stupid. As soon as he feels seven mental spears probing at his mind, he knows it’s the latter.

A thwack resounds around the room as Yunho bangs his knee from beneath the table, the sound enough to make you jump.

“I thought we agreed not to touch her, to indulge in her until she was finally ours.” Hongjoong’s voice is low, ominous, as he stares right past you to the male directly to your right.

“You can’t blame me!” Seonghwa replies. “I know any of you would have done the same if given the chance. Don’t act so innocent here.”

Your eyes widen, heart hammering in your chest at his words. You have no idea what’s going on now, and you don’t think you want to stick around to find out.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mingi warns, making eye contact with you just as the thought of fleeing crosses your mind.

“Okay, just what the hell is going on here?” Your voice draws all of their attention to you once more, and you end up shrinking back in your seat when you suddenly find yourself beneath the gazes of all eight men’s stares.

“There’s no point in keeping it from you any longer. You were bound to find out anyways, this is just not how we planned on telling you.” Hongjoong sighs, leaning back in his chair as he closes his eyes for a brief moment. “I’m sure you’ve noticed something’s amiss by now.”

“Tell me what?” Fear spikes within you. “That you guys are all part of some weird cult?”

Wooyoung, Yunho, San, and Mingi all burst out laughing at your words.

“You could say that,” Yeosang sighs. “It certainly feels like it sometimes.”

Your heartbeat rings in your ears.

“Stop that, you’re scaring her.” Jongho frowns.

Before you can say another word, someone is beating you to it.

“No, we’re not cultists.” Seonghwa sighs. “Though, I don’t think you’re going to feel much better learning what our true nature is.”

“Your ‘true nature’?” The furrow in your brow deepens, panic clear now on your features. “Don’t tell me you all think you’re vampires, or some shit like that.”

“Not quite,” San chuckles from the end of the table.

“More like demonic entities, if you will.” Again, that unnerving smile is back on Hongjoong’s features.

Your heart jumps into your throat. “You’re demons?”

“More or less,” Yunho shrugs casually, as if this is a conversation they have every day.

“No.” You state, placing a hand onto of the table to brace yourself with. “No. This isn’t possible.”

“Anything is possible, my dear,” Seonghwa grins. Truly, a chilling sight which sends a shiver right down your spine.

“This is insane.” You hiss, shaking your head as you stare at your hand placed on the table. Your fingers brush against something familiar.

“The first step towards sanity is embracing the insane.” Hongjoong replies, and you turn to see him stand from his chair.

“Do you really think that everything that’s happened to you within the past thirty-six hours has been natural?” Hongjoong cocks his head at you as he tilts your chair slightly to face him. “We have powers that you cannot even begin to comprehend, Love.”

You swallow the dryness in your throat. “I don’t believe you.”

“It wasn’t some random force that compelled you to take a road trip on your one weekend off,” Hongjoong grins, his eyes flashing black. “It was us.”

A gasp escapes you as his dark eyes lock onto yours. So you haven’t been imagining things. Their eyes really do shift black.

With your heartbeat ringing through your ears, you lean as far back in your seat as you can to get away from him. Your one hand still rests firmly on the table beside you, and you can feel the other’s eyes on you, watching your every move. Waiting with bated breath. For what, you’re not quite sure, but if they have strong powers, and what you’ve been experiencing- been assuming- is all true, then they can also read your mind. Your thoughts are no longer safely your own.

“What is it that you want from me, then?” You meet Hongjoong’s gaze, and you watch as it softens.

“I thought we all made that obvious by now,” he shares a quick glance with the males all sitting around the table, grins pulling onto all of their faces. “We just want you.”

“Me?” To say you’re caught off guard would be an understatement. “You mean you want my soul?”

“Sure, your soul would be nice.” Mingi nods.

“To have and to hold,” Jongho agrees with a nod of his own.

“To cherish and protect,” Wooyoung adds.

“To love and to care for.” San hums, taking another sip from his drink.

“Only if you give it to us willingly,” Seonghwa’s voice is surprisingly soft; tender.

“But never for us to take.” Yeosang shakes his head slightly, as if to emphasize his words.

“Or to keep.” Yunho assures you.

You spare a glance around you as best as you can, confusion clear in your eyes. “I don’t follow.”

“What we’re saying is,” Hongjoong takes a moment to meet your gaze, a tender look shining behind his irises as a smile tugs at the corner of his lips, “we want you. All of you. Mind, body, and soul.”

You can do nothing but stare at him, words failing you as your lips part. You swear your heart is about to burst with how intensely it thunders away in your chest.

“Of course, we would love it if you agreed to become ours willingly,” Hongjoong adds, and you can hear the underlying threat beneath his words. At the sense of fear that spikes within you, he’s quick to assure you. “I promise you that we would never hurt you.”

“We only want to love you,” Seonghwa adds softly.

“To cherish you,” Mingi breathes.

“To protect you,” San voices gently.

“To worship you,” Wooyoung says, voice barely above a whisper.

“To live out the rest of our lives together,” Yeosang’s breath catches slightly in his throat.

“To always be there for you,” Jongho nods his head assuringly in your direction.

“You are everything to us,” Yunho whispers, voice raw with the honesty of his words.

“So please,” Hongjoong draws your attention back to him, his forehead coming to rest against your own as he stares deeply into your eyes, “won’t you let us?”

A small silence settles over the nine of you as you allow their words to sink in. You can barely form any cohesive thoughts, sitting as still as you possibly can as you attempt to wrap you head around this turn of events. Never did you expect for this to happen.

Your lips part, and they all find themselves holding their breaths, greatly anticipating your answer.

“No.”

Hongjoong blinks. This time, it’s his turn to be stunned by your response, pulling away slightly in his shock. “No?”

“No.” You repeat, much firmer this time.

Before any of them can say anything, or even react for that matter, you’re stabbing Hongjoong with your steak knife and pushing him off of you. Standing from your seat with enough force to knock your chair off its balance, you send it toppling to the floor. Not even a moment later, you’re sprinting for the door and out of the dining room, fleeing down the hallway in which you first arrived from.

Your footsteps echo down the corridor as the eight men can only sit there, stunned for the moment at this turn of events. Well, that didn’t go at all how they had planned.

In the blink of an eye, San, Wooyoung, Mingi, and Yeosang have disappeared, chasing after you without a second thought.

“She stabbed me.” Hongjoong voices incredulously, disbelief clear on his face. “She stabbed me.”

“Yes, and?” Seonghwa quirks a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watches Hongjoong pull the knife out of his shoulder, blood dripping onto the floor as he stares intently at the weapon in question. “How does that make you feel?”

“Honestly?” Hongjoong looks over at the older male, nodding his head slightly in awe. “Impressed and horny.”

“Come on,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes at his leader. “Let’s go get our girl.”

Nothing but the sound of the knife clattering to the ground echoes throughout the room as the remaining four of them teleport to where you managed to run off to. You didn’t get very far, only able to reach the lobby before the first half of their group found you. They had appeared in an instant, surrounding you on all sides, and preventing you from escaping. Your pleas to let you go fall on deaf ears.

As soon as you see the other four appear out of thin air, your panic rises. Any and all chance of escape that you had had just now becomes slim to none.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Hongjoong pouts. “And after all that we’ve done for you, too.”

“Just let me leave, and we can pretend that none of this ever happened.” Comes your reply, noting the way a small blotch of red stains the front of his shirt where the knife had pierced him.

“I don’t think you fully comprehend your situation right now,” Hongjoong shakes his head, tutting all the while. “I already told you. You’re ours, and we’re not going to let you go so easily.”

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” you explain, voice coming out much firmer than you thought it would. “I’m going to grab my bag from my room, and then I’m checking out of this godforsaken hotel. I’m going to get into my car, drive home, and none of you will ever see me again.”

“Sure, you can check out of here any time you’d like. This isn’t even a real place,” Hongjoong chuckles as he watches your expression fall, horror at the realization of what his words mean painting your features. “We tried to be reasonable, to give you a choice. Now, you’ll just have to accept the terms you’ve signed yourself up for. You’re ours, and you’re in our domain now, Love. You can never leave.”

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readychilledwine · 8 months

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Early Mornings

A/N - Happy Surprise Saturday, my loves ❤️ I've had Azriel pieces, an Eris piece, a Rhys piece, and a little love for our baby bat, and it only felt right to ensure our favorite General had sometime to shine. Enjoy this grumpy/sunshine or orange cat bf/Doberman gf piece.

Cassian and his mate are well matched in almost every sense. He's a powerful Illyrian general, she is the last of the Valkyries. He loves their family, she is devoted to them. The only thing they never seem to agree on is mornings.

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of alcoholism and mental health struggles, mentions of trauma, alludes to interesting behaviors between Nesta and our unnamed female oc, unedited by an outside source

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Cassian stood in front of the coffee maker. His arms were crossed as he watched each drop of liquid fall into the pot he was brewing for his mate, himself, and the two other fae living in the house. His mate finally entered the kitchen, flipping him off as he offered her a smile before sitting down.

Cassian adored mornings. He loved watching the sun as it began its ascend over the mountains. He loved the crisp chilled air. He loved breakfast. The sound of the birds greeting each other at first light. His mate, however, adored their nightlife. She was the last to rise out of bed. The last to leave the table at Rita's with Mor. The last to head to bed. She loved dinners, the stars reflecting on the Sindra. She loved the way music felt in her bones as she danced into the early morning. She loved quiet walks home with her heels in her hand after Cassian would inevitably show back up to retrieve her. She worshiped the moon, and he, the sun.

The one thing the two truly shared in common though, was their love and need for coffee. Cass was approachable before his first cup, chipper even. He glanced over his shoulder where his mate sat, her wings wrapped tight around her. Her hands held her head. Her long dark hair was falling over her shoulders. "Almost done, babe."

"Fuck. Off." His mate? Not so much. He chuckled lightly at her response before grabbing their matching coffee mugs. "Why the fuck did you wake me up?"

"You promised me you would go on a morning run with me. Remember? Setting an example for the females? Helping them by seeing one of their own training? Helping Nesta see-" She groaned loudly, rubbing her temples. "I'm sorry baby, I'll be quiet until coffee is done." He leaned across the counter, kissing her forehead.

His heart melted at her smile, it didn't reach her hazel eyes yet, but he knew it would only take a few more kisses and some coffee to change that. "Why are we being quiet?" Cassian laughed as his mate turned, grabbing the nearest object to her before throwing it at a laughing Azriel. "Awe sis! Are you grumpy this morning?"

"Go shovel pig shit, Azriel." His brother moved behind her, kissing the top of her head with a soft "good morning" while rubbing her back lightly. "Why the fuck are you two always so happy in the morning?"

Azriel shrugged. "We go to bed at a decent time."

Cassian nodded. "We are used to early morning routines."

Azriel continued. "We don't drink until we black out. Anymore."

"Training in the morning starts the day right."

"Training in the morning is eas-"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." Cassian and Azriel laughed quietly. "Where is my coffee?"

"Just finished, beautiful." Cassian was pouring the hot liquid into the third cup a shadow had handed him, giving it to Azriel. Then he filled his mate's and his own. "Sugar or cream, sweetheart?"

"Both, please?" Cassian nodded, fixing her coffee to her liking, before moving to sit next to her. "I love you," she whispered to him before kissing his jawline. "How long is the run?"

"Only 5 miles," Azriel said softly. "We cut in half after you decided to drink half the camp under the table last night. Wonderful job stealing Devlon's most expensive whiskey, by the way." A smirk graced his face as he peeked at her. "Has anyone dragged Nesta out of bed yet? Is she getting ready?"

The illyrian female rolled her eyes before looking at the pot with 4 cups of the morning magic still resting for the oldest sister. Her head leaned to rest on Cassian's shoulder. "I haven't tried yet, and we'd know if Cassian did. If you think I'm grumpy in the morning, Azriel, have you tried speaking to her in the mornings? She puts me to shame. You should go try. She likes your pretty face after all." She was sniffing her coffee, waiting for it to cool down with a small smile on her face.

Azriel took a long drink of his coffee, nose scrunching from the bitter taste. "No. That's your job. She actually likes you more."

He took her mug, a very quiet "oh fuck," came from Cassian's direction. He backed away from his brother and mate. "Fight fire with fire. Get at it." He forced her out of the chair, smacking her on the ass as he pointed up the stairs. "Go on. Earn your coffee by doing something other than my brother."

"Fuck. You. Cassian, get my coffee back." The General looked between his mate and brother. "Babe!" Cassian just shook his head and inclined it towards the stairs.

"Get Nesta up and I will get you your coffee back." He knew deep down his mate would be the perfect weapon against Nesta. He and his high Lady's sister had butted heads since she had been made and even before then. Az cared for Nesta, but his patience with the female only went so far. His mate's no bullshit, no prisoners attitude seemed to be one Nesta respected. The two got along really well.

Almost too well at times.

He'd find her and Nesta cuddled on the couches in the House, Nesta between her legs with her back against her chest, a blanket thrown over both of them as Nesta read romances and his love read thrillers or reports.

He would find them giggling in the library, his mate holding Nesta's face in her hands. She'd be whispering to Ness, whose face would be flushed, while she smirked at her. Their bodies would be close together. Nesta's hands would stay locked on his mate's hips.

He even found Nesta in their room once, waiting on their bed, staring at his wife's body while she was finishing her makeup. Just to tease Nesta, he had walked behind his mate, slowly lifting the hem of her short dress while staring at the oldest sister. His mate had stopped him quickly, but not before he watched Nesta pull her lower lip between her teeth.

The final sign that his hound of a mate liked the Archeron happened just yesterday morning. She had made Nesta coffee and breakfast, something she only did for him and his brothers. They were speaking to each other quietly, not realizing he and Az were watching. She had pulled out her special mug, the one Rhys had paid good money to have made for her, and given it to Nesta so she could tuck one of her cold hands into the little nook built into the stoneware while his mate held the other one.

He knew something was brewing between the two of them, and Cassian was more than happy to just watch through the bond, or in person, when it finally happened. He sighed softly. "You might be the only one able to get her down here and on that trail."

"You are joking, right? Nesta is a grown female. She is allowed to make her own choices and heal at her pace. You-" he cut her off with a kiss. She leaned into him with a soft hum. He couldn't tell if it was due to the bond or just due to the lingering taste of coffee on his lips.

"Go." He kissed her gently again. "We just have to get her training babe. Rhys is-"

"I know. I know how he is. This isn't his first go round with a female who is… like that." Cassian flinched at the reminder. His mind flashed back to the screaming matches between his mate and Rhysand after the first war. The journey she had undergone to heal was ugly, rough, and long. But the 4 of them had gotten through it together after she had overdrafted an account by close to 1000 gold marks.

Rhys had wanted to kill her, but what she had overdraft the account on was the ultimate sign she needed help and was silently crying out for it. The only way she knew how. Her pride ran deep due to her independence as an Illyrian and a female. The only daughter and first grand daughter of a long line of camp Lords who were forward enough to see value in their girls and ban clipping.

The oldest sister of 5 brothers who looked up to her and followed her guidance. An oldest sister who felt she failed those brothers as she found them dead one by one on the battlefield.

Leader of the valkyries. All of whom she also felt she failed as she watched them all slaughtered. She was the last of her kind, at least for now, and that had ate at her. It spun itself into guilt, addiction, rage.

Cassian and Azriel both remembered Rhys sitting her down in his office as they blocked the doorways. They remember her just silently nodding as Rhysand lectured her, having calmed down significantly when he realized she was so impaired that she wouldn't remember a single thing. They remembered her crying and Rhysand moving to hold her.

Azriel finally broke the trace the three had fallen into. "The only difference is you accepted help. You let all of us help you heal, get you new hobbies, and teach you how to safely partake in activities with us. The only sign of your issues you still have is how big of a bitch you are in the mornings and how you are literally Mor's "scary dog privilege," whatever the fuck that means, when she wants to stay out too late," Azriel mumbled. "I think Nesta wants help deep down. I just think she is too scared to face what getting help means and what she will have to face."

Cassian watched as his mate sighed and nodded. "There's a lot of trauma there. I was over 200 years old, Az. She's barely in her 20s."

"I know."

"Then be kinder." The two had a stare off, beginning a silent fight between the spymaster and the last Valkyrie.

Cassian grabbed her chin to refocus her, chuckling at the glare and sleepiness still in her eyes. "Get her out of bed and on the training field, and I will reward you later."

Azriel rolled his eyes as her wings fluttered, attitude suddenly leaving her body, and she leaned into Cassian, their noses touching. "What kind of reward?"

Cassian smirked down at her. "Whatever my sweetheart would want."

His mate smirked, shutting her eyes softly as he leaned his forehead against hers. "Even if it's just coffee?"

He nodded, kissing her forehead. "Even if it's just coffee."

#acotar #acotar x reader #cassian x reader #cassian fic #nesta x reader if you read between the lines #azriel acotar #cassian #cassian acotar #Readychilledwine's heres to 100 celebration

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luis-block · 1 year

Note

could we. maybe. POSSIBLY. get a part two of the twin sister oneshot 👁️👁️

I have had fun with this series! Looks like I got an OC on my hands lol I will have to draw her a reference. If you guys want to see a part three let me know!

This is a continuation of this piece. Part one

The One who Gives (reader) awakens.

You woke up in a daze, you were in a tent? This was not your cave of mourning, and it smelled to familiar to you. You know were you are and panic, crawling to the entrance of the tent. You look out, seeing you are in a cult setting in your old stomping grounds of the Old Faith. You deflate at the realization that the lamb had in fact beat you in the battle. You knew it would end someday, but you hoped that it would have lasted a few thousand years longer so you wouldn’t have to deal with your ‘Family Problems’ for longer.

You hear shouting and running before you feel a green mass topple you to the ground. The smell of fresh rain and wet dirt brings nostalgia of days past, helping your younger brother with his trials to becoming a god. “..Leshy?” You said raspy as you wrap your arms around the quietly crying younger sibling that had missed your helpful insight and dry humor. Another two came rushing over, with one staying further back rather than going fully to your side. “(Y/N! your alive! I thought for curtain that fight with the lamb had killed you, but your persistence with your former self must have saved you my dear sister!” Kallamar cried franticly as he checked you over. He was always such a worry wart when you would let him be, and now was an appropriate time to be one you supposed.

The two more to run over came closer than the one who stayed further away from you. You were pretty sure it was Heket who was not at your side, maybe it was out of not wanting to see how much her cruel ways had hurt her only sister, or maybe she was not ready to tackle the reality that she was able to rebuild the lost relationship that she so desperately wanted to rekindle. You see the other two, one being your eldest sibling on your other side that Kallamar wasn’t crying on.

“My Little light has returned… I have had dreamed of this day since you stepped of these sacred lands my sister.” Shamura said with a content smile as they held you head to their chest. You feel the realization that you are safe and next to kin starts to sink in as you start to cry. The lamb was the other one who came with Shamura, looking pleased with his hand at the family reunion. “I am glad you have awaken (Y/N)! But do you know where you are? You still look like you are in a daze.” The lamb asks. “I know where I am, lamb, don’t poke at me.” You cried, starting to calm down. “B-but I must ask, where is my twin? My Moon to my Sun, my Dark to my Light? Did you kill him for his crown?” You say with determination in your three wet eyes, wanting closer to your twins wellbeing.

The lamb laughs, seeing the black cat with three eyes that match the white cats run over multiple other followers to see his twin sister again.

#cult of the lamb reader #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cult of the lamb follower #cult of the lamb x follower!reader #cotl follower reader #cotl bishops x reader #cotl bishop x reader

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ruh--roh-raggy · 4 months

Text

Heart of Wires (Sundrop/Moondrop x DCA!OC Piper)

Hello hello! Welcome to something new and different from me!!! This is my first time writing Sundrop, this is also my first time making an OC! It is with my greatest pleasure that I introduce you to Piper Belle Healy! This whole fic is going to be slow burn, super tooth rottingly sweet fluff. I'm just enamored by these big Bois, I wanna hold their hands and kiss them on the cheek. SO THATS WHAT IM GUNNA DO!! I hope you enjoy! Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

WARNINGS: None

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word Count: 3,985

Part 2

“Good morning!” The chipper blond welcomed her with a gapped tooth smile as she sang her greeting. “Piper, right?” The red head nodded in confirmation. “Perfect. I'm Meredith, everyone calls me Merry, I'm gonna be the one showing you around the Pizzaplex!” She motions for Piper to follow her, pushing through the turnstiles with ease before walking into the main lobby. “I’ll give you a more thorough run down after your shift, they never listen when I tell them to have you come tour the place beforehand.” She sighs, stepping onto an escalator and casually leaning up against the railing. “You’re going to be in the daycare, so you’ll be working with Sundrop. It should be pretty easy; arts and crafts, making sure the kids don't hurt themselves, nap time, nothing too crazy. Sun can walk you through it, anything you need, just ask him.”

“Some interesting nicknames around here.” She remarks with a lopsided smile. “Merry and Sun.”

“Oh, Sundrop is his real name!” She responds with a laugh. “I take it you haven't gotten to meet any of the animatronics yet?” Merry gives her an excited glance.

“No, I've seen the posters and stuff, pictures of them in the office when I went in for my interview, things like that, but I haven't, uh, met them?” She says giving the taller blond a look of confusion. ‘Why would I have to introduce myself to a robot?’ She thinks, quickly shaking the thought as she rushes to keep up. She approached a set of large, wooden double doors, the gold handles glistening in the low lighting. She holds the door open for her with a smile, motioning for Piper to walk in ahead of her. Piper fidgets with the sleeves of her sweater, looking around the room to see shoe cubbies and hangers for coats and bags about halfway up the wall. The faded paint was covered in drawings of kids standing next to who you were assuming to be the daycare animatronics. Both of them are tall and slender, one with a sun shaped head, the other a moon. The sun wore yellow and red striped pants that billowed loosely down his legs, you noticed most of the kids had drawn what must have been bells on his wrists and ankles. The moon was dressed similarly, only his pants had white stars against a dark blue background, a matching sleep cap sitting atop his head. She smiled, breathing out a soft laugh as she ran her finger over the waxy artwork.

“We could take the stairs, but the slide’s faster.” Piper jumps as Merry suddenly starts talking. She chuckles seeing the shorter woman’s expression, pointing to a tube that must have led down to the daycare.

“Slide it is.” Piper giggles in response. Merry grabs onto the railing above the slide, jumping slightly before flinging herself down the plastic tunnel. Piper hears the clatter of plastic below before Merry calls for her to come down. She excitedly hops into the slide, unable to stop herself from smiling as she rushes downwards. She yelps slightly as the slide abruptly ends and she’s flung into the waiting ball pit below.

“Sunny! I’ve got a new friend for you to meet!” Merry cups her hands around her mouth as she calls out in the massive playroom.

“A new friend? Oh, how exciting!” Piper hears a voice call from above. Her eyes widen as she sees a large clown with a sun shaped head spin out onto a platform overlooking the daycare. In one swift motion he dove from the platform and into the ballpit, mere feet in front of her. Piper scrambled to find solid ground, hoisting herself up onto the rubber mat covered floor, her foot slipping on one of the yellow pool noodle covered edges. Two sets of articulate robotic fingers wrap around the foam in front of her before the robot hoists himself up to his full height, she scrambles backwards, screaming as she bumps into Merry.

“It’s alright! Piper, this is who you’re working with!” She drops down to her side, shaking her slightly in an attempt to break her out of her panic. She froze, her chest heaving as she watched the golden points whirl around his face.

“You said he was an animatronic!” She exclaims, motioning rapidly to the human-esque figure in front of her.

“He is!” She exclaims. “The technology for him is very advanced, it’s something the owners have been perfecting their entire lives.” She explains with a smile. She looks between the animatronic and the nearly shaking girl in front of her. “Sundrop, this is Piper, she’s the new daycare attendant.” He stands there for a moment. His unreadable expression makes her heart race.

“New daycare attendant, hm?” He suddenly speaks, his voice was so expressive, if she wasn't so terrified of his monstrously tall stature Piper would've been amazed. He slinks closer to her, kneeling down to bring his face directly in front of hers. “I’ll warn you now, the daycare isn’t a place for amateurs.” She furrowed her brows at him.

“I’ll have you know I’m wonderful with children.” She sits up, he jolts back as she suddenly gets close to him. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t make assumptions about me considering you just met me a few seconds ago.” He seemed a bit taken aback at her sudden change in demeanor. Just a moment ago she looked so timid and scared, but now she looked like she was ready to bite his head off.

“I’ll let your work speak for you then.” He stands, grabbing her gently by the wrist and hoisting her up with him.

“Sun, play nice, she’s the best resume that’s applied for the daycare in a long time. Who knows, maybe you might even like her.” She smiles and winks at him. She turns to Piper, “I’ll swing back by here at lunchtime, I’ll help you find your way to the cafeteria.” She offers happily. “And don’t let him make you nervous, he’s a drama queen anyways.” She teases, making Piper giggle.

“I wonder why? It’s not like my programming was originally meant for the theater or anything.” He responds sarcastically.

“Show her around the daycare, give her a run down of the schedule, don’t kill each other.” She counts out the tasks on her fingers. “Think both of you can handle that?” They both nod. She gives both of them a wave over her shoulder as she heads off to get ready for her shift.

“So, we start off with free play.” He motions for her to follow him as he prattles on about the schedule for the day. He shows her where all the craft supplies are, where to find the adult-only tools like sharp scissors and permanent markers. He explained that during naptime is when she would meet Moondrop, “let him handle putting the kids down, he doesn’t like it when someone interrupts his system.” He explains. “Other than that, if you’ve worked with kids before, you should know what you’re doing already.” He sighs, obviously expecting her to fail from the start.

“I think I can handle it, don’t worry.” She squeaks with mock confidence, trying to find some way to change the animatronics tune towards her. “Sundrop?” He turns to her. “I’m really looking forward to working with you, I’m sure I can learn a lot.” She noticed how the whirrs and pings of his internal mechanisms grew slightly louder at her compliment. His eyes flicker over her face for a moment.

“Thank you, Piper.”

Piper watches as child after child comes down the slide into the Superstar Daycare. “Friends, if I could interrupt your playtime for just one moment, I have an important announcement to make!” She was pleasantly surprised at how quickly the screams and laughter of the children died down, Sun easily able to catch their attention. “Some of you might have noticed there's a new face around the Daycare today. I would like to introduce all of you to Miss Piper.” There was a chorus of small hello's and hi’s from the group. She jump as Sun suddenly claps his hands together, telling them all they could go back to playing. He strides up to her, her eyes trailing up his long thin frame as he stretches farther above her than anyone she had ever met. She guessed that Sun stood somewhere around 7 feet tall, compared to her short stature he looked nothing short of a gigantic. “Go grab the markers from the supply closet, I'll take care of pulling out the tables and chairs.”

“You know it wouldn’t kill you to say please.” Piper huffs before turning on her heels and hurrying off to get set up for drawing time. Sun can’t help but watch her retreat. Out of all of his time in the Pizzaplex he had never met anyone like her, staff member or otherwise. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind, that was apparent from the small little quips she had spit out at him. Granted, he knew he had a tendency to be a bit harsh towards new hires, but that was only because almost everyone they sent him was incompetent. It's not that Sundrop was mean, he was just a perfectionist. The Daycare Attendants he has worked with in the past didn't care about the kids like he did, they didn't have the same passion for the glitter covered stick figures they would be presented with. But there was something different about Piper. Sun saw how you immediately stopped when one of the kids ran up to you, stooping down to scoop the small boy up in her arms to head in the direction he was pointing in. A ball had gotten stuck in one of the rungs on the play place, too high for any of the kids to reach safely. He watched as she maneuvered herself carefully up the brightly colored structure, wiggling the ball loose before climbing back down. She hands the ball over to the boy, giving him a high five and praising him for asking for help. She smiles as the boy runs off to play with his friends. Her eyes meet Sun’s, causing her to freeze. She lets out a sigh of relief, smiling softly as he offers her a subtle thumbs up. Sun walks away, going to set up the tables for the next activity.

“What do we have here?” A voice purrs in Sun’s head.

“There's a new Daycare Attendant.” Sun mutters quietly out loud.

The voice groans, “another one? They keep sending us these stupid humans-”

“I thought the same thing. But she seems… different.” He explains, sliding the tables across the floor.

“So that's what woke me up.” He lets out a raspy chuckle. “I guess I’ll have to see what she’s like in a couple hours.” The warmth in the back of Sun's head dissipates as his counterpart returns to sleep.

“Sundrop?” He's snapped from his thoughts by her melodic voice. He turns to find Piper standing there with multiple bins of art supplies stacked in her arms. “I have all the crayons, markers, glitter, stickers, glue sticks, and stamps.” He smiles as he listens to her list off everything he would have grabbed. “I'm having some trouble finding the paper.” She admits bashfully.

“Here, let me take these.” The cold tips of his metal fingers brush against hers as he takes the stack of containers from her. He spreads them out across the tables before turning back to her. “Let’s go look for that paper.” She was a bit shocked by his response, she was waiting for him to start yelling at her. He didn't seem too keen on working with someone new, her not being able to complete such a simple task should've set him off. She follows him into the supply closet, he lets out a soft hum as he scans over the shelves. “Here we go.” He pulls out a pack of paper and hands it to her. It appeared to be at the back of one of the very top shelves, a place she couldn't have reached if she tried. “I'll make sure to get all the paper moved down to where you can get it.” He states simply before walking back out into the daycare, leaving Piper to watch him duck out of the closet in a state of confusion. He had seemed to completely change from the animatronic she had met earlier this morning, and she couldn't figure out just what exactly had spurred the sudden shift. She got everything set up for drawing time; separating the stack of paper into smaller piles to make it easier for all the kids to share, opening all the containers and removing a couple markers that had been left uncapped and had dried out. You heard the excited screams and talking of the kids as they ran over to draw. Sun had a child in either arm, a third clung to his leg as he moved in your direction.

“Miss Piper?” Her attention was caught by a girl with strawberry blond pigtails as she tugged on her sleeve.

“Hi honey, what’s your name?” She asks cheerily, kneeling down to be closer to the girl's eye level.

“Haley.” She responds with a huge smile, her two front teeth missing.

“It’s nice to meet you Haley, what’s up?” She looks bashfully over at Sundrop before her eyes immediately dart back to Piper.

“Do you think you could help me draw a picture for Mr. Sun?” She holds out the orange crayon she had clutched in her fist. “I want to make something for him but he’s really hard to draw.”

“Of course I can.” Piper smiles brightly at her, letting out a soft chuckle at her excited expression. Haley grabs Piper by the hand, tugging her back to where she was sitting, telling all of her friends that Piper would help them make pictures for Mr. Sun. She couldn't help but smile as her time was filled with giving high fives to all the excited kids as they showed off their drawings to her, drawing a quick Sundrop head for the kids to color, and being asked a million questions about her bright colored jewelry and fun outfit. Little did she know, the whole time Sun was keeping a close eye on her, absolutely delighted by what he saw.

“How’s everyone doing over here?”

“Sunny!”

“Mr. Sun!”

“Sundrop!” Piper looks over her shoulder to see the large animatronic had made his way over to where she was working.

“Is it okay if I sit here Miss Piper?” He asks with a smile, motioning to the chair next to her. He noticed how some of the kids must have placed stickers on her cheeks, her freckles laced with sparkly stars and neon smiley faces.

“Sure, Sundrop.” She smiles sweetly at him. He crouches into the comically small chair, his knees pressed to his chest.

“Miss Piper’s been helping us draw you Mr. Sun.” Haley exclaims, giggling when the animatronic gives her an amazed expression.

“Really? You all wanted to draw me?” They all clamored over to him, wanting to show off their pictures, most of them drawings of Sundrop holding hands with that child, ‘best friends’ scrawled across the bottom in messy script. “These are so wonderful!” He leans in closer to the group, they all copy his motions with wide eyes, waiting eagerly to see what he would say to them. “How about next you guys draw some pictures of Miss Piper?” They all silently agree before hurriedly turning back to their papers and crayons. He leans back in his chair. “I'll have to admit Piper, you're doing an amazing job.” She found heat settling behind her cheeks at the compliment, her eyes darting over to meet his glowing white ones.

“Thank you, Sundrop.” She smiles shyly.

“You can call me Sun, less of a mouthful.” He chuckles. “If Moon likes you you'll have passed your trial run.” There was a slight teasing tone in his voice.

“Well, lets hope for the best then.” She smiles at him.

She was grateful for nap time once it rolled around, with so many kids it was hard to find a moment to catch her breath. “Go pick your spot.” She shoos off a small boy into the other room, dimming the lights as they all settle in. She softly shuts the door, tucking herself away in a corner so she wouldn't get in Moon’s way. She wondered why she hadn't seen any sign of the animatronic all day. Her eyes immediately drifted to Sun as he stepped in the room, as he shut the door you watch his face spin around, all of the points surrounding his head getting tucked away as a sleep cap appeared. She blinked, the gold and red stripes on his pants suddenly turning to stars.

“You must be this new Daycare Attendant I heard about.” His voice was much raspier than Sun’s, he turned to face Piper, a noticeable difference in his face from the animatronic that had just stepped in the room in front of her. The moon on his face was much more prominent, the other side of his face being blacked out save for his glowing white eye. She was amazed at the complexities of their system, not to mention the immediate difference she noticed in their personalities, if she hadn’t just seen the change in front of her she wouldn't have believed this was the same animatronic. “You just sit back here, I’ll make this quick… and try to stay awake.” He chuckles before slinking off into the dark room. She heard the soft gasps and calls for Moon that he gently shushed, patting each child's head that greeted him as he made his way to the center of the room. The soft sounds of a music box beginning to chime filled the room, a tapestry of stars slowly rotated around the ceiling. Almost like magic Piper noticed the kids near her fall asleep one by one, every one of them in the room asleep by the time his song ended. She found herself yawning, pushing her round, wire framed glasses onto the top of her head as she wiped her eyes. She stretched, her spine letting out a soft pop as she pulled her arms over her head. Her eyes fluttered open, her hand immediately clapping over her mouth to suppress the scream that had welled up in her throat. Moondrop’s face was mere inches away from her own, he studied her closely, slowly crawling around her with almost spider like movements.

“I'm assuming you must be Moon?” She whispers nervously, his gaze didn't feel as judgemental as when she first met Sun, but he still made her nervous nonetheless. He offers her a small nod in response. “I’m Piper.”

“Sun seems very impressed with you Miss Piper.” He coos softly. “I do have to say you're definitely a lot prettier than the usual Daycare Attendants they send us.” He chuckles at her flustered expression. He runs a finger over one of the star stickers on her cheek. “The kids seem to like you too, that’s good.” He carefully maneuvers around her, propping himself up against the wall at her side. “How are you enjoying your first day?”

“It’s been good, definitely not what I was expecting.” She giggles, Moon felt a strange pang in his chest at the sight of her smile. She looks out over the group of sleeping children. “You know, that?” She makes a vague motion to the room. “Very impressive.”

“I have a bit of a talent.” He chuckles in response.

“Do you only come out for nap time?” He was a bit surprised by the genuine curiosity in her tone.

“I can only come out when the lights are off.” He explains. “Nap time, sleepovers, Sun and I switch off after hours.” She sat and quietly chatted with Moon for the rest of nap time, Piper found herself a bit sad to see him go.

“It was wonderful getting to know you.” She smiles softly at him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Piper.” The lights gradually grew brighter as nap time came to an end. The sleepy yawns of kids and soft giggles of them talking amongst themselves filled the room.

“Well, good morning!” Sun greets the kids cheerfully as they head back out into the main play area. She timidly makes her way up to his side, feeling a bit awkward standing next to the tall robot. “I take it everything went well with Moon?” She could tell by the softness his expression held that he already knew the answer to that.

“I hope so.” She smiles at him. “I don't want either of you to think I'm an amateur.” She mocks his assumption from the morning with a wink, making him chuckle.

“You definitely proved you're not an amateur Piper.” His hand gently comes to rest on the top of her head. Piper feels a blush spread across her cheeks as he pats the spot between her messy, copper space buns. “I'm sure they're all hungry, let's get them set up for snack time.”

“He hasn't been giving you a rough time, has he?” Merry asks as she hands you a tray.

“No, I've actually been having a lot of fun working with him.” She admits with a small shrug and a bashful smile.

“What about Moondrop?” She follows up.

“He was also wonderful.” You reassure her.

“I'm impressed.” She mumbles as she starts to grab things to eat. “The last three people they hired had already been run off by now.” She chuckles. “I guess they did end up liking you after all.”

“I can't get over how much personality they have.” Piper smiles excitedly.

“I mean, they might as well be people with how complex of a machine they are. They're fully articulate, their AI lets them experience emotion, they're pretty much just like us without the internal organs.” They both pay for their lunches and sit down. “So, now that you've spent a couple hours with them, do you think you’re going to keep the job?” She seemed almost nervous as she asked her.

“Oh, absolutely!” Piper beams. She hurries through her lunch, exchanging goodbye’s with Merry before she heads back to the daycare. So she wouldn't cause a disruption she decided to take the stairs down to the main play area.

“Welcome back.” Sun smiles at her as she approaches. The rest of the day flew by as Piper got dragged off by a small group of kids to go play. She couldn't help but laugh as she caught sight of a girl wearing pastel pink fairy wings riding around on Sundrop’s shoulders, pretending like she was flying. Slowly your group became smaller and smaller as parents arrived to pick up their children, before you knew it you and Sun were alone, cleaning up the disaster left behind. “I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot this morning.” He suddenly apologizes, nervously tapping the curled golden toe of his shoe on the floor.

“It’s okay, from what Merry told me they threw in some real pieces of work before me.” She giggles in response. “We can always try again tomorrow.” He pauses, straightening up to look at her.

“Piper?” She hums softly, her blue eyes landing on him. Sun felt the words catch in his throat for a second. He takes a few steps closer to her, retrieving a yellow sun sticker from the booklet he kept in his pocket. He presses it to the apple of her cheek, her soft warm skin squishing under his finger as she smiles at his action. “Welcome to the team.”

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @twelvelevens

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stellar-constellations · 8 months

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"You haven’t tried to kill or degrade me, and you're cute too!”

Very curious! Low ranked demon! GN! (Y/N) x Aizetsu.

(Y/N) has absolutely no memory of their human life.

Chōrō is an original OC for plot purposes!

(Y/N) eats human food to gain energy!

(Y/N) has her own original breathing but it doesn't go into detail!

(Y/N)'s demon life is similar to one for one of my Demon Slayer OC's (that I may or may not add onto Tumblr one day; still deciding).

It must’ve been a few months since I’ve been a demon. I don’t know much about my human life, but I was once a demon slayer who killed demons. I was a tsuchinoe with much to learn, but I created my own breathing; Celestial Breathing.

I was a stubborn and honest person. I followed what I believed was right and I did my best to help others, even if it didn’t always work out—at least, that’s what my human friends say.

I visit this old lady, Chōrō, often. She gives me human food since it replenishes my energy instead of blood. My human friends are demon slayers, but they won’t kill me. I’m a exception to the slayer corps, just like my little demon friend Nezuko is.

I hide in big trees and warehouses in the day, but I usually go to Chōrō; she is very kind and lets me hide in her house.

I am a demon with no rank, a demon that could easily be killed if wanted since I have no name or significant importance. I help give the best information I can about That Man and the Uppermoons to the demon slayers, but once I no longer have connections with them, I am of no use.

Death doesn’t bother me—I would enjoy it. I don’t want to be a demon. I don’t like having to hide from the sun, fight other demons, run from the humans, find a way to get money, or avoid the pretty glowing purple trees. But I don’t want to submit easily—it’d be insulting.

I don’t have any important relation with the Demon King. The last time I saw him, I was in the infinity castle, but I don’t know why. He explained what I was and what I had to do, then set me free in the world. I'm certain he was the one that turned me, but I'm unsure why.

So far, I have run into three Upper Moons; one, two, and three. I don’t like Upper Moon One—he gave me a surprise test and was very mean to me, saying that I was a imposter and had no use, so I dislike him very much.

The second Upper Moon is very… special. He’s weirdly animated, loud, and a bit annoying, but I am on better terms with him then with Upper Moon One. He helps me train, honing my swordsmanship skills and Blood Demon Art (which appears to be my Celestial Breathing).

I only saw Upper Moon Three once, but he seems like a very irritable person, and I have a problem with people who like to berate me.

I really like the animals in the world. I think my favorite is the wolf. They’re a little mean to me, but they don’t attack me, they just growl at me. However, sometimes when I stay very still and avoid eye contact, they will come over and sniff me. I will carefully hold a finger out and they’ll allow me to pet their muzzle. Sometimes they bite my fingers, but I understand they're just scared of me like how I am of humans.

I also really like pandas. Pandas are fluffy and big. I can lay down on them. I really like to hold bamboo up and feed them. I ate the bamboo once—it wasn’t good. I don’t understand why the pandas like them but it’s okay because they’re cute and it leaves more for them to eat.

Yes, I like pandas. I like to lay on them too. I’m laying on one now! His name is Boo. I probably won’t ever see him again, but I enjoy his company, and he doesn’t seem to mind mine, so we’re friends.

I was laying on his stomach as he ate a stick of bamboo, grabbing another stick nearby and waiting for him to finish his food, then holding it out in front of him.

“Do you want more?” I questioned.

He made a funny noise. I don’t speak panda. I assume it was a yes because he took the stick and starting chewing on it.

“You’re feeding the panda?” a voice questioned in front of me.

I tilted my head back to it’s original position, seeing a demon in front of me. It wore a blue stash, having coco skin and very pretty blue eyes. It had horns sticking out of its hair that was messy and black. It was also worth noting he had this purple vein-like pattern on his forehead. They looked and sounded like a guy; he was cute, but he looked sad.

“I am! His name is Boo. Would you like to feed him with me?” I questioned, grabbing a stick of bamboo, offering the bamboo to the demon.

“No thanks…” the demon spoke, his face remained a frown as he looked at me.

“Boo is very nice, right, Boo?” I questioned, tilting my head backwards to look up and rest my head on his stomach.

He made a noise as it took the stick, resuming his meal.

The demon remained silent, deciding not to talk any further, however he stayed staring at me.

“Are you okay? You look sad.” I questioned.

Usually I’m not so kind with demons or people in general, but whenever I see something I like or enjoy—like this panda—a flip is switched in me and I turn almost childish. I’ll regret my actions for this interaction later, but I won’t see this demon again. Besides, at least he’s not trying to fight me.

“I am sad.” The demon admitted.

I hummed, thinking.

“Would you like to talk about it? I promise I won’t tell anyone. I won’t judge either.” I offered.

“No thanks—I don’t think you’d understand.” The demon spoke.

“I don’t think I’d understand either.” I smiled. “I don’t understand a lot of things around me, but it’s fun to learn. I might not understand you, but I can listen to you. I like it when someone listens to me.” I explained.

The demon hummed, thinking to himself.

“Are you a new demon?” he questioned.

“I am.” I spoke. “I don’t eat humans; I eat human food. I learned that bamboo is not human food.” I informed him. “I suggest not eating the bamboo, it tastes gross, but Boo likes it. I don’t exactly understand Boo...” I spoke, tilting my head up as Boo finished his stalk, making a noise for more.

“I suppose I could tell you...” The demon sighed, watching as I picked up a nearby bamboo stalk and gave it to Boo. “I am an embodiment of an emotion, so I can only really feel that one emotion. I share a body with six other clones, so they can really upset me sometimes.” The demon explained.

I nodded, listening intently as I grabbed a bamboo stalk, offering it to him to make him feel better. He shook his head, rejecting the stalk. I shrugged and gave it to Boo.

“I feel that I understand. Not in this life, but in my human one.” I explained.

“You can remember your human life?” the demon questioned, seemingly intrigued despite having that frown on his face.

“Bits and pieces. I get information from others about me sometimes.” I spoke. “I hope you at least feel a little better with me though.” I smiled, offering him another stalk of bamboo (to which he rejected yet again).

“I still feel sad.” He sighed.

“Hm…” I hummed, thinking. “What do you like to do?” I questioned. “I like seeing animals, and seeing my friends, and eating human food—human food tastes really good for me, unlike this bamboo.” I explained, then motioned for him to take the bamboo stick (he ignored it).

I don’t understand why he won’t accept the bamboo? The bamboo is currently making me happy since I can feed Boo, and I want to share my happiness with this demon. Oh well…

“I don’t really like much things… I don’t have the free time to do indulge in hobbies.” He spoke.

“Why not?” I questioned.

“I work for the Demon King.” He explained.

I nodded, making a mental note as I scooted closer to him, looking into his eyes. He looked at me, seeming to be uncomfortable as he slightly leaned back as I leaned closer.

His blue eyes said Upper Moon Four, so he's not lying.

“I see.” I acknowledged. “That must suck for you—or not!” I quickly spoke, nervous to offend him. “I mean, I wouldn’t quite enjoy having little free time, but I respect it if that’s what you enjoy.” I smiled, offering him a stalk of bamboo as an apology.

“I suppose it could be worse.” He hummed, then rejected the bamboo stick.

I nodded, not seeing the conversation going anywhere else as I crawled back to my spot, leaning back and giving Boo the bamboo instead.

“We don’t know each other’s names.” I pointed out.

“What’s the point of exchanging names? We’ll probably never see each other again. How sad…” he sighed.

“Then let’s make sure to meet up again, so it's not sad!” I smiled. “I mean, you’re fun to talk to, you haven’t tried to kill or degrade me, and you're cute too!” I admitted.

“Huh… cute…” He muttered, testing it out, as if not believing it.

“Yeah.” I confirmed, then looked up at the stars. “So, would you uh… like to meet here tomorrow night?” I questioned nervously.

Why is my heart beating so fast? It’s just a question. I thought to myself.

The demon hummed, thinking to himself. “I supposed it wouldn’t hurt…”

“Great, it’s settled!” I exclaimed, happy to know I’ve made a friend with a powerful being as I stood up. “My name is (Y/N), it’s been lovely talking to you.”

“I’m Aizetsu.” The demon, Aizetsu, spoke.

“Here, have this bamboo stalk. It’s a promise that you’ll see me again.” I spoke, then realized how stupid that’d be. “Y-you don’t have to keep if it you don’t want…”

Aizetsu looked down at the stick and me, then finally taking it from my hands.

“(Y/N)…” he tested the name out, having my full attention. “Thank you for making me feel less sad and…” he paused, then spoke. “I think you’re cute too…” he spoke, the frown remaining on his face, but I didn’t need to see a smile to understand that he also enjoyed our time spent together.

He walked back into the forest from where he came from, leaving me and Boo alone.

I immediately whirled around at Boo, excited as I let out a little giggle. “Did you see how cute he was? His eyes were so pretty! And he had such a handsome voice. His personality was so relaxing and adorable!” I gushed, running up to the panda and laying on him. “You agree, don’t you?” I questioned, giving him a stick of bamboo.

He let out a noise that showed he agreed, as he does with most things I say.

I like a lot of things in this world. I like the human food, the animals, the clothes, the stars, the old lady Chōrō, and the blue demon named Aizetsu.

Have any requests? Check my masterlist to see the characters I write for: Masterlist

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heavencanbeaprisontoo · 1 month

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The Sun and The Moon

(Prologue: Meeting By the Sea) Alfie Solomons x Shelby!OC

Summary: In early November of 1917, you are over a year into your service to the Crown as a volunteer nurse. Following a hollow victory, you make your acquaintance with one Alfie Solomons. WC: 3.1K Warnings: Mentions of war, death, g-re, v-mit, foul language, angst, psychological distress, etc.

November. 7, 1917.

You know you need to hurry. It's almost nightfall; you won’t have much light left to write in. Yet you cannot help but linger at the sight of today’s victory. Before you, there is an ocean. It is a vast sea of gray, thick, and cold. Unfeeling and joyless. An ocean of standing water, crumbling buildings, and miles upon miles of mud. The buildings once housed people, but now they resemble the ruins of a bygone era. A necropolis.

Rolling clouds of dirt and gunpowder float just above the ground like phantoms. It’s the only piece of this that reminds you anything of home. Beckoning to the fog and soot that rolled in the early mornings when you would walk with your brothers to Charlie’s yard. Behind you, white tents flap in the wind, and cloth clings to metal rods that hold the structure in place. A field hospital. The only taste of civilization left for miles.

Rings meant to fasten the flaps down rattle like windchimes against the winds. A sudden updraft carries the stench of decay from the trenches up to where you stand. You press a cloth into a small bottle of peppermint oil. Quickly, you put that cloth on your nose. One of the first things you learned after joining the VADs was to keep your feet dry and to have plenty of peppermint oil on hand. It wards off the smell of rot, both in the living and the dead. The first time you smelled it, you vomited. Now, you barely gag. Still holding the cloth to your nose, you turn back to the field hospital.

Your name is Maeve Shelby, and you are twenty-four.

It’s warmer inside the tents. Uncomfortably so. The warmth is from all the bodies; most lay about in cots; the rest are your fellow VADs and doctors. Humidity mixed with stagnant sweat and all the bed pans that ever come clean enough to be rid of acrid remnants. To save yourself from having to sit in the midst of it all, you set aside a chair for yourself at the mouth of the field hospital. It is a plain, simple wooden chair with one leg shorter than the other three. Beside it is a stack of empty ammunition boxes. You have a small lantern weighing down an unfinished letter. With a sigh, you sit down and resume your writing from earlier that day:

Dearest Aunt Polly, Ada, and Finn ,

I know once my letter finds you that this will be well-known, but the Allies have finally claimed victory here in Ypres. The soldiers say we are nearly finished ousting the Germans from Passchendaele. Only a few remain. Too injured to retreat. It won’t be long before we can claim this as ours. Still, we have yet to celebrate. It’s strange. All these months we spent fighting, and this doesn’t feel like a victory. So many lives were lost. There are too many to even try to count.

My work keeps me busy, but it is at night when my mind is most busy. Even with the fighting stopped, it has been difficult to find the dead and the wounded. I do not know where these men will be put once they’re found. We have hardly any beds left to offer. I have taken to sleeping in a chair by the entry to the main tent. Partly to free a bed for those that need it, partly to keep an eye out for any soldiers still trying to make it back.

For so long, all I’ve done is race from place to place. Now all I do is change bandages, sooth the restless, and listen for the wounded who remain stuck in the trenches. Those still well enough to fight are sent out to recover their comrades. It’s hard work. Idle bombs and lurking landmines are all still out there. Some men come back worse than they left.

I know that the boys aren’t out there, but still, I strain to listen for them. John, Arthur, and Tommy. In my dreams, I do hear them. Just as I know, you hear them in your dreams too, Polly. It makes me wake with such a fear in me that my feet carry me forward before I’m fully awake. I rush toward that ocean of muck and blood, and I stop only when my fingers pierce the earth; the feel of it under my fingernails brings back my senses for some reason.

I wonder if all the victories we’ve won felt like this. I wonder if, when all is said and done, any of this will amount to anything at all. Does anyone remember why we’re even here? Who will take our bodies home if none of us survive?

“God,” you say, taking your pen and scratching out the last line. Then, you scratch out the last paragraph. You cross out line after line. They don’t need to read this. This madness. It was good of Ada to back out of volunteering. Not just because of this lonely sea of mud and blood, but for little Finn, too. With you and the three eldest men gone, someone needed to take care of him. Mom has been dead for almost five years now. Father may as well be dead; he felt like a ghost when he was home anyway. Aunt Polly was holding up “the business,” from what you could gleam from Ada’s letters back to you.

In the year you’ve spent out on the fields, you have yet to receive a letter from your brothers. Not that you blame them. All of you are on the move. What you know of their state comes from Ada, or Polly. Arthur and Tommy are together, which somewhat soothes you. You think of John often. He’s in France with Danny and Jeremiah. I think you joined so that you could look after your brothers. It’s been years since you’ve seen them in person. Who knows what state they may be in? There are men behind you who will never be whole. Broken bodies, shattered minds, and more scar tissue than flesh. Are your brothers as you remember them? You hate to linger on the thought.

You fold your ruined letter three times and rip it in half. The give-and-take of it feels good somehow. It reminds you of something you read once about children being destructive to gain some form of control. You can’t control how long this war lasts, when you can come home, what home you return to, or what state you find your brothers in, but you can control this paper. So, you rip it again. And again. Each tear becomes more jagged and childish. You throw up your hands, and the bits of paper fly away in the cold November winds.

‘Snow from Birmingham to Belgium,’ you crack a small smile.

You once dreamed of journeying across Europe. It was a lovely fantasy filled with long train rides and French pastries. Winking at handsome strangers while hiding your smile behind a lacy white glove. Now, you feel like you’ve seen too much of it. When all this fighting is over, maybe you’ll take a holiday to Margate. Clean your memory with a long look at an ocean of water instead of this hellscape.

“Shelby!” Your head turns sharply to see Nurse Burgess charging towards you. Her round face was blotchy as always, her thin lips drawn down in a harsh frown. “Miss Shelby, you are needed in the back.”

Tucking your scented hanky back into your apron, you ask, “Is someone in throes?” Some men, in the throes of despair, couldn’t always tell the difference between a nurse and a German soldier.

Her meaty hand takes you by the upper arm and says, “No, I need you to keep an eye on someone.” Nurse Burgess drags you through the maze of malaise swiftly, despite the growing night. The nurses have navigated this place in near darkness many times now. You could probably make it from one end to the other, blindfolded. Tonight, the field hospital was quiet aside from the moaning. Nurse Burgess guides you deeper inside the field hospital with a hoarse, “It’s Captain Solomons; that bastard won’t lay still, and I haven’t the time to keep on him.”

You try to keep your voice low as soldiers in their cots roll over to follow you and Nurse Burgess’ mad dash. “Captain Solomons? I thought he was sedated, heavily!”

Nurse Burgess, on the other hand, has no such qualms. She hollers, “That man is a bloody bear. We keep trying to give him more, and he shoos us off. Now, he won’t stop trying to get out of his cot... with a blown-out leg!” Two soldiers sat on their cots with a barrel between them. They played cards under the glow of a flickering candle on their shared nightstand. As you passed, they snickered.

“I can’t imagine he would be able to move much; Doctor Gill said he nearly lost that leg,” you noted wearily. Burgess was nearly done with her escorting or you; the back of the tent was not far off. You stepped over a pool of what could have been rainwater, bile, or piss. There is no point in stopping to check.

At the back of the field hospital lay two specific sorts of patients. Those who could not move and those who absolutely should not move. Captain Solomons was in the former category. Days ago, he sustained a bullet to his shin that nearly shattered it. He had been under strict orders, and a heavy dose of sedatives, to stay right where he was. Each cot in this back section has its own privacy curtain. When you first joined, you thought it was for the nurses to sleep and change in. The other nurses had a good laugh about that. When she comes upon Captain Solomons’ curtain, Nurse Burgess lets you go. S yanks back the curtain, shielding the Captain from view, and lets out a deep grunt.

You peer around her shoulder and sigh. The captain sits on the thin cot with a sterile sheet pushed down to his legs. His back is raised from the metal headboard, and he has his body turned with his good foot nearly touching the ground. Still on the bed rests his wounded leg. It lays at a stiff, awkward angle. You know he must at least be aware of its precarious state. In the dark, it’s difficult to make out all of his features.

“Captain!”

He’s a big man, with broad shoulders and heavy muscle on his back and arms. You can see it pushing against his long-sleeved undershirt. What strikes you most about him is not his mass or his leg, but his grin. His cheeky, cheeky grin.

Captain Solomons keeps on that grin as he says, “Hm, it appears I have been caught, right?” His accent is thick. You know very little about Captain Solomons aside from the most basic of details. You know he’s from London, you know that he’s Jewish, and you know that he can be difficult. The Captain’s tone remains glib as he remarks, “And you brought a friend, ‘ello there.”

“You are to be resting, Captain Solomons!” Based on her tone, you can imagine Nurse Burgess is turning purple about now. Captain Solomons gives her a boyish shrug and stays upright in his cot. That alone makes Nurse Burgess turn to you and hiss and say, “Keep him here so he doesn’t rip his bloody stitches, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you hum. She leaves you there in the parted curtains with Captain Solomons. He regards you for a moment, then restarts his attempt at standing. You let out a sigh and hurry to him before he gains enough traction to hurt himself. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you try to ease him back into his crib. “Captain, you really must follow the doctor’s instructions.” You feel him push against your palms.

“Fuck the doctors; pardon my verbiage, but I’m about to go mad lying about this miserable lump you call a bed,” he says, putting his hands around your wrists. You are taken aback by how easily his hand wraps around your wrist. If he wanted to, it wouldn’t be terribly difficult to just shove you aside. “I need to take a walk.”

Politeness doesn’t seem to work on him, nor does roughness. While you weren’t tough like John or ruthless like Arthur, you were clever with people. You could get a sense of how someone’s mind ticked quickly. You hoped you could catch on about Captain Solomons too. “And when your stitches rip and you’ve lost your leg, what cot would you like me to move you to?”

He stops pushing against you. His chest is still heaving, and his hot breath fans your cheeks. You swallowed thickly; you really underestimated how close you were to him. This is a is a big, big man. One who had rumors of a violent temper that took very little to agitate.

“You have been injured and are lucky to be alive. And you still have all your parts, Captain. Why are you risking that just to go on a fucking walk?” He stares you down with a furrowed brow. For a moment, you worry you’ve poked the bear a bit too hard. “If you refuse to take the doctors seriously, what do you think the men who answer to you will do? They’ll all be trying to walk about despite their pain and end up injuring themselves for pride.”

Solomons puts you at ease when he sits back on the cot, releasing your wrists. “I can’t just lay about like this. I’ll lose the rest of my marbles waiting around for those doctors to get these stitches out. There’s not a single thing a man can do to occupy his mind in this place. It smells of piss, rot, and pus. If they would give me back my knife, right? I could cut out a little window in this tarp behind me and get a whiff of fresh air. But they won’t. Where’s the respect, hm?”

You cross your arms and ask, “So, you’re bored?”

He stiffens. Oh, you hit the nail right on the head with that one. You can’t exactly blame him. The longer you stand still, the faster all your fears catch up with you. All those ugly things you’ve seen and heard find you. That’s why the soldiers play cards and the nurses trade that single copy of ‘Frankenstein’ and ‘A Room with a View’ back and forth. Distraction. “If you can stay still where you are, I can try to get a book or a deck of cards. Would you like that?”

With a sweeping gesture to the darkness, he says, “Can’t exactly read a page or play a hand in the dark, now can we love?”

Shaking your head at his childish attempts at derailing your little plan, you take out a matchbox from your apron. With your last matchstick, you bring life to a lantern by his bed. You turn to face him, a warm orange light reflecting on your face. In the dim lighting offered by the lantern, you can see the Captain’s face. He’s young for a man of his rank. And handsome, you can admit as much in your own mind. His eyes are bright, and his features are deeply masculine. A hard jawline with a prominent brow and pouty lips. Most soldiers, regardless of rank, are required to be clean-shaven. This is not true for Captain Solomons. He has a well-maintained moustache and beard, cut close to his jawline. You heard from somewhere that Solomons was an exception due to his faith or his demeanor. Captain Solomons is looking up at you, too. His expression was all aglow. Bright gray eyes stare at your face. Confused almost as they regard you.

“Do we have a deal, Captain?”

He’s still staring at you, his brow furrowed as he studies your face. Finally, he says, “If you can get ‘Frankenstein,’ I’ll stay put. That’s a piece of fiction I can sit with for a good bit of time.”

You beam at him and take the chance to push his healthy leg under his blanket. Solomons grumbles, “Easy now, easy. I’m injured, remember?” He allows you to gently move him safely into his cot.

Finding the nurse who had taken possession of the book was no easy task, but she was quick to give it to you when you informed her a captain had asked for it. When you came back with the book, Solomons was still in bed. You thanked a God you no longer believed in and handed him the book. Just as you attempted to leave, Captain Solomons made an admission: “My eyes, yeah, they don’t pinch up the written word so easy these days. If there’s not a grisly scene out there for you to attend to, might you do me the service of reading this aloud for me?”

For a moment, you think about refusing. You never know when you’ll be called away. But then again, you’re the one who came up with the idea to get him a distraction anyway. Settling down at the edge of his bed, you take the book from his hand and begin to read. Captain Solomons leans back against the metal headboard, listening to you begin reading the preface. What you didn’t know was that this was the start of a near-nightly ritual. Captain Solomons would attempt to slink out of bed to go'stretch his leg(s)’ until you would rush over to distract him with another book or game of cards. He became a welcome distraction for you as well. A friend, almost. Perhaps more than that, if the way he kissed you one cold night in late November told you anything.

His lips were as soft as they looked.

Whether it was friendship or not, it lasted for about a month. Captain Solomons and his men were removed from the area for transport to the west. You and your fellow VADs would go north. He didn’t stop to say goodbye to you, which bothered you. The morning after he kissed you was the day you found out about the move. And he was already gone.

In one year and three days, the war would be over. You would return home to find that all your brothers had survived. But they weren’t quite themselves anymore, and neither were you.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders oc #peaky blinders x oc #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x shelby!oc #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader

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zablife · 8 months

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Weekend Reading

Looking for something to read this weekend? Here are some of my newer fics 📚 and some older ones that have been shown love recently ❤️. If you enjoy them, let me know with a reblog or a comment! Happy reading!

📚 Do You Even Miss Me? Tommy x reader

📚Part 4- As Long As I Live (completed series) Tommy Shelby & Amelia Holland (OC) x Bonnie Gold

Tommy's long lost daughter appears at Arrow House and quickly becomes a beloved part of the family. What happens to their relationship when that peace is shattered by his newfound political aspirations and the only way to protect her is to send her away again with the one person she cannot abide?

📚 Call #4- My Sun, My Moon and All My Stars (ongoing series) Luca Changretta x OC (Aurora Sabini Changretta) x Tommy Shelby

Luca and Aurora Changretta come to the UK to avenge the murder of Luca's brother and father. However, as their volatile marriage unravels, events take an unexpected turn.

❤️ Partners in Crime John Shelby x Y/N Solomons (Alfie's sister)

Their unique skill sets and their older brothers' greed have brought them together against their will. Can they learn to get along? Not a series, but an ongoing list of blurbs about an AU I can't stop thinking about where John and Alfie's sister are problematic besties.

❤️ A Handsome Stranger John x female reader

You meet a handsome man one night in a club who makes you feel a powerful desire for him. The events of the evening grow increasingly strange and difficult to comprehend.

❤️ Before Sunrise Tommy x female reader

One autumn evening, as you and Tommy cause mischief in the forest, you wander away until you find yourselves on the grounds of a grand estate. Too late to return to your family's camp, Tommy breaks a window to gain entry to the empty house and you spend a memorable night together.

❤️ Liar and a Thief Alfie x female reader

You borrow Alfie’s hoodie and he has a unique reaction.

❤️ The Fight Bonnie Gold x gf reader

After Bonnie loses his first fight, you’re worried he’s been seriously injured.

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #john shelby fanfic #john shelby x reader #bonnie gold imagine #bonnie gold x reader #luca changretta fanfic

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storyofmychoices · 15 days

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Shining Through The Shadows

[Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley Masterlist]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley (F!OC) Book: Open Heart, present day Word Count: ~1,200 Rating/Warnings: general, no warnings

Synopsis: Olivia prepares a special eclipse viewing party for her patients.

"Where should I put this?" Bryce questioned as he carried a plastic foldable table beneath his arm into the hospital's healing garden.

"I was thinking right over here," Olivia gestured. "Near the entrance."

Within seconds, he had it open and set up.

"Thanks!" Olivia rocked up on her tiptoes, placing a kiss on his cheek, before turning back to the task at hand.

"Anything else I can help with?"

"Bring me that bag over there?" She motioned her head toward one of the blankets she had set up as she placed a yellow tablecloth over the table. "Grab that basket too, please."

"Is this all just glasses?" Bryce dug through the bag. "How many do you have here?"

"100... give or take some more," she offered casually while organizing a display of Capri Sun, Sun Chips, and Moon Pies on the table.

"I thought you only had 31 kids that could come out?"

"And the nurses and the doctors," Olivia defended.

"But more than 100? Did you leave any for the other departments?" he teased.

"Yes!" She stuck her tongue out playfully toward him. "Besides, the children need at least 2 each."

"Dare I ask why?" He handed Olivia the basket, which she placed on the table beside the snacks.

"For their stuffed animals and dolls," she answered as though it were common knowledge. Carefully, she placed the glasses in the basket, smiling as she continued, "Of course, they need protection, too."

"I'm not sure that's true," he laughed.

"Will you be the one telling them their stuffed friend isn't real so they don't need protection?"

"Not a chance. Ramsey might, though—we'll have to keep him away," Bryce decided with a chuckle.

"Woah," the ten-year-old Christopher marveled at how the healing garden had transitioned into a picnic area with snacks and art stations.

The effervescent seven-year-old Savannah bounced with excitement, pulling on her mom's hand. "There's clay! And paint! And crayons! And snacks! This is the best day ever!"

Her mother smiled down at her. Despite all the medical challenges her daughter had faced, she never let it dull her spirit. "Looks like you had a lot of choices, my little Picasso. Where'd you like to start?

One by one, the children entered the garden with their parents. Nurses and doctors mingled throughout, guiding them through the art choices, each station allowing them to explore the eclipse with different art mediums.

As 2:00 approached, Olivia called all the children back together to start their viewing party.

"We are very lucky to be able to come out here today and see something really special," Olivia began, her eyes wide with excitement as she spoke with the children.

"Who has seen a shadow before?"

All of the children raised their hands.

"What is the biggest shadow you've ever seen?"

"My dad's really tall so he has a really long shadow," one child called out.

"The shadow of the playground by my house is big in the afternoon," another shared.

"You have a shadow right there, Dr. Olivia!" Savannah pointed eagerly to the ground beside her.

"That's right! We all make shadows. Most things leave behind a shadow," Olivia explained. "My shadow is created because I block sunlight from getting to this area. Did you know there is something that looks kind of small but is actually really big and can make day look like night?"

The kids looked around, whispering to their parents in surprise.

"That's what's going to happen today. During a Solar Eclipse, the moon moves in front of the sun and blocks sunlight from reaching Earth." She held up a model to help demonstrate. "When the moon is in front of the sun, its shadow will make some places get really dark. Dark enough to see stars."

"I don't like the dark," Noah whimpered, holding his stuffed Koala a little tighter.

"You don't have to worry," she gently reassured him. "Just like my shadow only makes part of the area dark, it's the same with the moon,"

"So we won't see stars?" Savannah frowned.

"Not until it's actually nighttime. Sorry, Sav! Where we are, we will only see part of the eclipse." Olivia held up an Oreo, twisting the top off to expose the frosting. "In just a few minutes, the moon—" she held up the half without the frosting, "—and the sun—," she held up the half with the icing, "—are going to cross paths." She moved the "moon" half slowly in front of the "sun" half. "As the moon moves, it covers up more and more sunlight. With our special glasses to help protect our eyes, we will get to see the sun seem to disappear until it's just a sliver. It'll still look bright outside, but if we put on special glasses we can see that it'll really look like this."

The kids marveled in excitement and curiosity, eagerly discussing the event with their parents.

"Me, nurse Laura, nurse Tim, and Dr. Bryce will be around to give you glasses. You must wear them anytime you look up at the sun, okay? Can you give me a big thumbs up if you can do that for me?" The kids did as requested. "Great!"

The doctors and nurses moved through the group, passing out glasses to each group.

"Here you go." Bryce knelt near Savannah, offering her a pair of glasses.

The young girl looked around her blanket, raising one finger at a time as she counted. She held her hand toward him. "We need four, please."

"Four?" Bryce looked around, his brow raising curiously.

"Dr. Olivia said everyone needs glasses," she nodded to agree with her previous statement. "Me, Mommy, Teddy, and my American Girl doll."

"You are absolutely right; that is four!" Bryce shook his head with a smile. "How could I have counted wrong?"

"Maybe you were distracted by Dr. Olivia," she smiled. "She's so nice and pretty."

"She really is, isn't she?" His gaze flickered to Olivia, who was showing another patient how to wear the glasses.

"You should go hold her hand. She would like that," Savannah whispered with a giggle.

"You think?" His eyes widened in consideration.

Savannah nodded excitedly.

"I'll see what I can do. Thanks for the tip," Bryce winked as he continued on his way.

As the eclipse began and all the children were busy watching in amazement, Bryce slipped his hand into Olivia's as she watched over them. "You are incredible, absolutely incredible."

"It's nothing." She shook her head, trying to dismiss him.

"Liv, look at them! All of this, this is you! None of this would be possible without you."

"Anyone could have organized this."

"Maybe, but they didn't. You did!" He took her other hand in his, turning into her. "You made sure these kids got to experience something they wouldn't have without you. You made understanding the science relatable for them. This is something they're never going to forget. You gave them something special to remember."

Her face warmed under his compliments. Her gaze shifted toward the children engaged in viewing the once-in-a-lifetime experience, their parents beside them sharing in the moment. "They deserve this and so much more. They're so strong and so brave." Her eyes threatened to tear up, knowing that for some, they wouldn't have many other big days ahead of them.

"They're so lucky to have you, Liv, and so am I." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "There's no one else I'd want to share this with."

"I feel the same about you," Olivia smiled, wrapping her arms around him. After a moment, the pair turned their attention to the heavens and the celestial event growing in front of them, their hands laced together between them.

A/N: I know I'm late with this. This week has been crazy busy. It's taken all week to finish this. It is not proofread or edited! So please forgive any mistakes.

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce lahela x oc #bryce oph #open heart #playchoices #choices #choices game #olivia hadley #bryce x olivia #brylivia #lovealexhunt #oph bryce #fan fiction #open heart fan fic #april2024 #storyofmychoices #lovealexhunt writes

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ayyy-imma-ninja · 20 days

Note

Hi! I'm working on a concept for my DCA oc and I wanted them to have 2 sets of arms but one set only coming out when needed, much like your Royal AU Sun and Moon.

I wanted to ask if I could use your idea of the second arms hiding inside the body? I didn't know if you wanted to keep that idea to yourself as a sort of 'watermark' to differentiate your Royal AU from any others.

I mean, sure?

The concept of having a second pair of retractable arms is not mine to claim, so feel free, i guess! /lh

#answered ask #royal guard!au #fnaf dca au #retractable arms

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liquidstar · 27 days

Text

april fools is over so now im going to be slash srs instead of slash j. im going to post a little excerpt from one of the oc writing practices ive been doing :) again im not super experienced for a variety of reasons but im doing my best here.

but im going to try and put my self conciousness to the side (thats probably an important part of the practice too, right?) since this isnt final version either way, i can just say im sharing a WIP! so for now it will go the way of most of my other oc stuff..... under the cut

the only context you need is that this would be the opening scene for the story. if i post others i'll have to give more context bc most of them are taken from the middle of something. anyway here goes:

-----

“I love you

I've loved you since the beginning

From when you were only stardust

To when you will rejoin the stars

When everyone will be together again

Understand, you don’t simply live in the universe

You are part of it, taking on a form uniquely alive

You are the universe giving love back to itself

I love you so much”

“Wait!!!”

A lone girl jolts awake, crying a plea into the empty air. Tears stream down her cheeks, as she calls for someone she doesn't know. Her heart aches with a nameless yearning that fades with the memory of her dream. Still, against her will, the emotions linger. A profound sense of love consumes her, an agonizing, grieving love, meant for her. She sighs and wipes away her tears. It was an absurd dream, a ridiculous notion.

As her conscious mind clears, she takes in her surroundings; a forest drowned in the pale blue light of dawn. Her sleeping bag, now encased in dew, was laid on the cold grass. She sits for a while, gazing at the faint sliver of the rising sun’s glow with an indistinct expression, and eventually stands up.

The lone girl begins her daily routine by braiding her hair. With a wave of her hand, she freezes dew on a rock, creating herself a mirror. Her fingers carefully weave her brown locks into a braid, now adorned with a snowflake clip and a scarlet ribbon. She throws on a long blue half-skirt over her shorts, matching her shirt. She forces on a pair of black boots and cuffs on her arm. Lastly, she grabs a moon-themed spear, and she's ready for the day.

Before setting off, she made sure to pack all her belongings, including her numerous hand-drawn maps and a compass. However, she also stops to look into the bag deeper, foolishly expecting to find something new. Instead, she only sighs, "Still no food."

She puts on the backpack and trudges forward anyway, ignoring the hunger pains as best she can. She hums to keep herself distracted.

As she walks, the trees tower above her, shrouding the horizon and taunting her. Birds occasionally fly into view, but seem to disappear in an instant. She wonders if her eyes are playing tricks on her.

The lone girl scribbles on her maps, trying to record a labyrinth of identical tree trunks and twisted paths. This proves useless, as this elliptical forest has her going in circles. Exasperated, she fidgets with her compass, only to see the needle is frantically twitching around. She presses it gently to her forehead and quietly complains, “Don't tell me you're broken…”

Her train of thought was cut short by the sudden sound of running water, so loud she can’t fathom how she’s only now begun to hear it. She decided to put off one problem for another. Following the sound through some shrubs, she quickly finds the source.

Her spear at the ready, she approaches the stream. Scanning its depths for signs of fish, she walks cautiously. Her posture was awkward, her expression was uncertain, betraying her lack of experience. She held her spear to her chest with both arms as she encroached the water’s edge.

She inhales in preparation, removes her skirt and boots, and enters the water with slow, careful steps. The very surface of the stream begins to freeze as it makes contact with her skin. Tiny, thin crystals of ice form as she steps further in. Breathing deeper, as she tries to control the frost, she makes her way to the center of the stream. She stands waiting for fish.

Rather than throwing her spear to hunt, like the intended purpose, she stabs at the water. She’s not good at this, however, and only ends up scaring other potential prey away. She makes several attempts at this but is unsuccessful each time. Refusing to quit, her repeated strikes become more desperate and uncoordinated with each failure. Her growing frustration only makes the water freeze deeper, eventually solidifying around her legs. She yelps, now in a panic, and begins to frantically stab at the ice to free herself.

A mess.

Escaping this ordeal, the lone girl abandons any further attempt at fishing. It probably isn't her calling anyway. She trudges on, lost, wet, cold, and hungry.

She looks at her compass again, her face reflecting in its glass. “You're broken,” she tiredly states, as she feels her eyes begin to well with tears.

“No! No no no! Don't cry! Don't cry Polaris,” The lone girl, Polaris, reassures herself, “Last time you cried you froze your eyelids shut, and that really hurt,” She whines aloud.

Polaris takes a deep breath, slaps her cheeks, and swallows her tears. She elects to follow the river, her only hope of escape, pursuing the promise of a village just beyond this enigmatic forest. She daydreams of a warm meal in a cozy restaurant, and maybe a cold desert too. A glimmer of determination returns to her stride, as she continues her hum from before.

#hi #finn's ocs #i dont know if ill make a writing tag of any kind im still wavering on it #and again its a wip its a draft of a draft and all that #but i did my best for what it is! even if itll be changed later #i tried to avoid exposition abt the powers in this part. thatll come up later in a convo w saiph so its more clear Why #but hopefully the fact that shes just freezing stuff just establishes that there is somekinda power/magic system even w/o details yet idk!#i wont be posting that any time soon tho. its from the same sort of chunk of writing but not as polished as the Polaris Forest Failure Comp #(spoilers for if i post more ig?) this idiot doesnt know shes in the forest that makes you lost lol #but yeah i tried. ok bye

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dana-chan-the-control-brain · 1 month

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So what was the thought process you and @twinanimatronics had for Moon and DJMM being besties?

Like I know that's a huge fanon thing (though i think y'all were one of the early ones) but is it something yall based on game data or character analysis?

Ohhh!!!

A pretty good question.

I think part of it had to do with @factual-fantasy's wonderful au and comics of the DJ being very close buds with Sun and Moon.

But I think there was a bit more to it then that.

I think I just wanted a fanfiction mostly centered around Moon and the DJ's friendship because they're both Security bots and are the only two animatronics in the Pizzaplex that go back to being "mainly chill" after their initial segment. (Moon showing up at every hourly recharge being super easy to avoid outside his initial Daycare Segment and Sun just stays in the slide all other times)

I also remember seeing the headcanon in @paper-lilypie's old comics that Moon had a music box, which was a popular hc, that Ceph and I have actually proved to be canon with our rabid exploring of the Pizzaplex map like its an archeological dig site.

Made me get to thinking if Moon used his music box often, what songs would he use?

Also got me thinking about how the DJ makes up his own songs on rotation to avoid copyright. He's essentially an AI generated song prompt, but far more endearing and self-aware. DJMM makes his own bouncer chase music to capture Gregory and that's pretty endearing to me.

Thought about Moon stealing DJ's songs to use in his music box. (and yes, I know real life music boxes are made with a set song in mind and he can't rotate them unless there are discs in there. But idk. lol don't think about the mechanics of this too hard of how a music box actually works)

Made me think that Moon would like relaxing Lofi beats that the DJ would make for him.

Lofi Beats to Capture Children to was initially planned to be five chapters. Just showing glimpses into the lives of DJMM and Moon interacting, from a more DJ-themed perspective, with the pov changing between Moon and the DJ...

But I kept adding more things into there.

Once I realized Sun had to be a character in this, the perspective strictly stayed with Sun and Moon.

Like an OC that was meant to just be a foil, and die for character development for the Daycare Attendant turned out to be more complex then I thought as he just became a worse version of myself and I wanted to see him get better so I made a spin-off entirely about him.

I realized I wanted to have Vanny in this, because I love Vanessa. I wanted to show the toxic but completely codependent relationship the DCA has with Vanessa. Because... Well, let's face it, Vanessa is a non-character in her own game. Many fans don't love her in the way I do. Even the most hard wired DCA fans don't really have anything to say about Vanny/Vanessa.... and either ignore she exists... or she's a meangirl background character not important to the plot. Despite the fact that Vanny and Moon's relationship is the driving force for so many things that happen in Security Breach. To the point where the Daycare Attendant is literally a thematic parallel to the Vanny/Vannessa relationship... Something I've been screaming about since Security Breach came out and no one listened.... But I was right. To the Point it's explicitly confirmed in Help Wanted 2.

And I also realized that if Sun was going to be a character, I had to establish life for them for a good chunk of it and how fast things go down. I had to determine whether I wanted them to be their separate things, or one person with DID. And ... While I do think that DID is actually canon..... it's something I don't have experience with writing, and I feel that I would end up saying or portraying it offensively. Especially since the DCA already kinda has the "bad alter" archetype in canon. Plus, to coexist with Twins where they get seperated and they're learning to be their own people... It just makes more sense to have a level of miscommunication between the two. So we understand Sun's fear and need for control. (like in canon Sun has no reason to string up fairylights in his dark room... other then just to never have moon switch over and make him uncomfortable. There's no kids in their room to capture. The generators can stay on in the pizzaplex and their room could be dark and the children would be safe. Sun is making it so Moon can't switch at all... and while that is horrible for Moon, it's important to see where that level of distrust and anger and controlling behavior stems from, and why Moon might be afraid of him in twins)

And If I wanted the DJMM to be friends with Moon, I also needed excuses for Moon to go there. I also needed to consider his relationship with the other Glamrocks and animatronics in the pizzaplex. I had to show how isolated Sun was and how much Sun cared for the kids, genuinely.

So the whole thing snowballed and it sometimes becomes intimidating to work on.

I guess long story short... The DJ is cool. And Moon is cool. I love them both and they make a really great non-verbal pair.

I absolutely love Lofi. So thanks for sending this ask. I know I haven't updated in awhile. But you think being unemployed would give me more freetime... lol but I'm mostly depressed and stressed.

#fnaf #lofi beats to capture children to #fnaf fanfic #danachan's asks #danachan's replies

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suguwu · 10 months

Text

lover be good to me: part three

You meet Kita Shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. You know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. He seems like a good man. Like a good soulmate.

But it’s your wedding day.

masterlist

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

pairings: kita shinsuke x f!reader, oc x f!reader

notes: so this was originally supposed to be three parts, but i hit the limit for a tumblr post, so it's now four. but we're so close to the end and i'm excited to share this part with you! the final part will be up next week.

as always, massive thanks to my beta for both the edits and the endless support throughout the process, especially when i thought writing this fic would never end.

title and part title are from hozier’s “be” and "nfwmb"

tags for this part (contains spoilers for fic): soulmate au (first words), this is a very reader-centric story, slow burn, pining, hurt/comfort, reader and kita are implied to be around their 30s, food consumption, non-graphic partner death (not kita), grief/mourning, healing, love as a choice.

wc: 10k

You’ve been staying up too late.

Or maybe you’ve been getting up too early. You’re not sure you know anymore. The world spills foggy over your senses these days. The sun sets bloody over the horizon as you close your eyes, sinking your teeth into the tender flesh of a dusty pink peach, the juices running sweet down your chin. You open your eyes and there’s a mug shattered on the floor, coffee pooling around your feet, the scent of it heavy enough to taste. You close them again, and you wake up curled around a ghost.

Hours roll into each other, jagged fragments rounded smooth, seaglass blips of time. They slip through your fingers like grains of sand.

You miss the finer details of things. The wake is ephemeral, a cobweb snapping in the breeze long gone before you even know it. Only the ghost of incense on your skin tells you it occurred. Abe and Yoshikawa spend the night; they’re warm around you in the guest room’s bed, their arms thrown over your waist to keep you from shaking apart in the tender wound of darkness.

You curl up in the cradle of them. You can smell Yoshikawa’s mango shampoo as you press close to her, her long hair catching against you. She hums quietly and shifts to accommodate you. Abe scooches closer against your back, her forehead pressing between your shoulder blades.

You fall asleep like that, twined together like a litter of kittens, shifting into each other’s warmth.

You blink awake in your dimly lit kitchen. It’s late; the sickle curve of the moon is low in the sky. Your phone is heavy in your hand.

Kita picks up within a single ring. He says your name quietly, like it’s a secret for just you and him. It startles you out of your daze. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize you actually called him.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to call so late.”

“S’alright,” he says. His voice is rough with sleep; there’s a soft rumble to it, like far-off thunder. “You can always call.”

“Did I wake you?”

“S’alright,” he says again. “Do you want to talk?”

You bite at a hangnail. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to talk?”

“Please,” you say, your voice fraying at the edges.

He does. You lean against the refrigerator as he talks, your head tilted back against the cool metal of it. Kita tells you about the seedlings, how he could use a machine to sow them but that this year he’s chosen to do one or two of the paddies by hand. You imagine him crouching in the fields, his big hands tender against the delicate shoots, sinking them into the thin layer of murky water.

His voice is soft, steady, and warm. You sink into it, floating in it as you watch the moon set, a fishhook of light descending towards the embrace of the horizon. He spins out story after story. You think it’s the most you’ve ever heard him talk and something in you twinges.

“Will you come to the funeral?” you ask, the question spilling from you before you can stop it.

Kita goes quiet. You listen to him breathe. It’s steady like the tide, in and out, ebbing and flowing in a way that soothes something in you, a balm against an unknown scrape.

“No.”

You flinch.

“If I come,” he continues, his voice gentle but firm, “it won’t be about your husband anymore. It’ll be about us.”

Kita’s particular brand of logic has always had a cold edge to it. You know he doesn’t mean it unkindly, but it stings to hear the truth spoken so steadily, with such assurance.

You curl in on yourself like a fiddlehead, bringing your knees up to your chest. You sob once, an earthen sound, deep and heavy.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Silence falls. You tilt your head back further and stare at the ceiling, half-blocked by the fan of leaves from the plants perched precariously on top of the fridge. You can almost see him in the lines the paintbrush left behind, his lips thinned and his amber eyes somber.

“I know,” you whisper.

Kita breathes out a sigh. It’s a wisp of a thing. You think it must be bitter on his tongue, laced as deeply with regret as it is.

“Do you want to keep talkin’?”

You glance at the stove’s clock and wince. “You should go back to bed,” you tell him. “It’s late.”

“That isn’t what I asked,” he says, not unkindly.

You watch the clock blink over to the next number. It seems to take an eternity, a lifetime tied up in neon red.

“I don’t know,” you say and the tears are welling up, burning hot behind your eyes. “Shinsuke, I don’t know.”

“S’okay.”

The tears spill over, running down your cheeks in thick rivulets. They catch on your lips, fill your mouth, until all you know is sorrow salty on your tongue. “Shinsuke,” you say, desperate.

“I’m here.”

You curl forward, burying your face in your knees. You fist your free hand in your nightshirt, twining the soft cotton around your fingers until it hurts. You sob once and then catch the next one behind your teeth to swallow back down.

“You can cry, y’know,” he says. “You don’t hafta stop on my account.”

It sets you off. You sob like a child with your forehead resting against your knees, the tears dripping down to dampen your pj pants.

Kita murmurs something, too soft for you to hear over your own sobs. But his voice is sweetened with kindness. It settles into your bones, the warmth of it spreading under your skin, a soothing balm against the sharp, gruesome wound deep inside you. The first tentative stitch of many.

Your sobs peter out into quiet, shaky breaths.

“Good,” Kita says. “Keep breathin’, just like that. Slow and steady.”

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to cry.”

“Don’t be. Yer hurting. Be more surprised if you didn’t cry.”

You give a watery laugh. “Yeah, I guess. I’m sorry anyway, though, especially for keeping you up. I know you get up early.”

“S’alright,” he says. “Like I said, you can call any time.”

“Thank you, Kita.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Of course,” he says.

“Go back to bed,” you tell him. “I’m okay.”

He hums. It’s a rich, sleepy sound, dripping down the line like thick honey. You press your phone against your ear a little harder and let the sound of him curl around you.

“I don’t mind staying up.”

“I’m okay,” you say again. “Just tired.”

“Alright.”

“Goodnight, Kita.”

“G’night.”

You hang up. A car goes by; its headlights pour in through the window, illuminating your kitchen. The light catches on the little vase of your favorite flowers tucked away on the counter top. They’re wilting, the edges of the petals shrinking back, like shy children covering their faces.

You can’t bring yourself to throw them out.

You tilt your head back against the fridge and close your eyes.

“Wanna come back to bed?” Abe asks.

You crack an eye open.

She’s haunting the threshold of the kitchen, softened by the dim. Her mouth is a tender gash. She waits.

“Not yet,” you say.

She pads into the kitchen. When you don’t protest, she slides down next to you, pressing warm against your side. It feels like childhood again, when you would crowd in close together to read the same manga under the covers with a flashlight.

“Okay,” she says softly. She leans her head against your shoulder as you close your eyes again. “Not yet.”

Another car goes by; the kitchen fills with light. It glitters against Abe’s dark hair for a breath and then it’s gone. In the aftermath, the kitchen seems darker still, Abe just a faint outline next to you, and perhaps that’s why you say, “I called Kita.”

She stays quiet, only shifting against you. Her silk pajamas are soft as they slide across your skin.

“I don’t know why,” you continue. “I just…wanted to hear him.”

“At 2am?”

You bite your lower lip. “I think,” you whisper. “I think that maybe I just wanted to make sure he’s still here.”

“He is,” she says softly. “He’s still here.”

You hum, the sound like river rocks rolling over each other, wearing away at each other. “Yeah,” you say. You scrub away the remnants of your tears with the back of your hand. “He is.”

Abe catches your hand as you lower it. She winds her fingers—bird-boned, all delicate architecture that makes you think of the arcing ceiling of a cathedral nave—through yours. She squeezes.

“Come back to bed,” she says, her words punctuated with a little tug. “You need sleep.”

You let her pull you to your feet. The two of you make your way down the hallway quietly; when you open the door to the guest bedroom Yoshikawa is already awake, her dark eyes gleaming through the dim. You sink into bed beside her. She curls up around you as Abe climbs in from the other side.

“You okay?” Yoshikawa asks.

You go still, a briar patch of cruel words growing sharp as they twine up your throat. “No,” you bite out. Abe goes stiff at your back. “Why would I be?”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Yoshikawa’s voice is cool but it does nothing to hide the softness there, nor does it hide the hurt that lurks beneath.

You take a deep breath. “I’m tired,” you say, even though you know you should apologize. “Can we sleep?”

She cups your cheek and gives you a sad little smile. “Of course.”

Abe drapes an arm over your middle and gives you a little squeeze.

“Go to sleep,” she murmurs. “We’ll be here in the morning.”

You fall asleep knowing it’s a promise they’ll keep.

***

The funeral passes quickly.

It’s all flickers of things: a laugh quickly hushed behind hands, a tight-lipped smile on painted lips, the salt of tears lingering on the air like ocean spray, the sickly floral scent of the hanawas thick on your tongue, a wrinkled hand cold against your wrist.

You can barely look at Takao’s parents. He’ll live on in their faces, you think, in the curve of his mother’s lips and the shape of his father’s cheekbones, but you can hardly tell now. Their features are gnarled with sorrow, knotted like the old crabapple tree that you and Takao used to climb in their yard. Each hiccuping sob from his mother echoes in your ears.

You touch one of the flowers of a thick, bountiful hanawa just before it’s collected. The petal is silken between your fingers. It bruises quickly beneath your touch, the thin delicacy of it tearing. You let go.

It’s obvious amid the pristine lilies. You grab another creamy white petal and then another. By the fifth petal, there’s a path of mangled petals behind you, stepping stones of destruction.

“Hey,” Abe says, laying her hand over the top of yours as you reach out for another petal, “let them take it, okay?”

You blink. “Oh,” you say, seeing the funeral director lingering nearby, ready to take the hanawa to go with Takao’s body. “Of course.”

Before you step away, you tug off a single perfect petal, white as snow and faintly dusted with golden pollen. You roll it between your fingers. The satin of it crushes beneath your fingertips.

Abe squeezes your hand. Her touch is a song you’ll always know but it feels distant now, like music muffled behind an apartment’s walls. She lets go when you step away from the wreath.

You follow her to the entrance of the funeral hall. The koden ledger is there, surrounded by white envelopes stacked high. You nudge at one until the flap opens to show crisp yen notes. You stare at the notes until they blur at the edges.

Before Abe can say anything, you reach out and close the envelope up. The stiff mizuhiki knots are rough against your fingers. You trace along them for a moment.

“I didn’t think I’d see these any time soon.”

“I know,” she says softly.

“Someone will collect the ledger?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Thanks.”

She leads you back to your parents and squeezes your hand again before she disappears. You’re not sure where she goes, but you wish you could go with her. Instead, you accept condolences for what feels like hours, each word grating on you, eroding you like a pebble caught in an ocean wave.

When it’s all over your parents bundle you into the car. The city blurs by like a watercolor, gray with splashes of neon streaking through it. People stream along the sidewalk too. You watch and you watch, a statue of old, bearing witness but unmoving yourself.

“Inside,” your mother says, startling you free of your reverie. You hadn’t noticed you’d stopped. She swings the car door open wider. “C’mon,” she says, gentler this time. “Let’s go inside.”

You follow her without a word.

“Tadpole,” your father says as you cross the genkan. “Your shoes.”

You look down to where you were about to step into the house proper; you’re still wearing your heels. “Oh,” you say quietly. “Thanks.”

Before you can reach down, your mother kneels before you. You try to protest, grasping at her elbows to raise her to her feet, but she swats you away and hunkers down to unbuckle them. Her fingers are careful and quick. She traces one of them over the strap of your shoe before she pushes to her feet again.

She cradles your face in her hands, her fingers warm against your cheeks. She rubs her thumb over the curve of your cheekbone to wipe away the tear stains. “Oh, tadpole,” she says softly. “My little girl.”

You bring your hands up and cup hers to you. You breathe her in, the honeyed earth of saffron mixed with the clear, soft scent of the summer irises as they rise proud amid the gardens.

“He’s gone,” you tell her.

She nods. “He is.”

“I’m alone.”

“You’re not alone. Just without him.”

“It feels like being alone.”

She brushes her thumb over the curve of your cheekbone again. “I know.”

When she lets go the heat of her lingers on your face, like how a fire lives on in the warmed hearthstones. You press a hand to your cheek absently as you slip off your shoes.

Your father bends down to take them. Just like your mother, he ignores your protest. He tucks them carefully beside a haphazard pair of Takao’s slippers. The soles are worn thin, especially compared to the thick, shiny soles of your heels.

You suppose you can take new slippers off of your shopping list.

“Go inside,” your father says. “You need rest.”

“I’m not tired.”

“You will be,” he says. He touches his mark gently, as if its charred kanji will crumble into ash beneath his fingertips. “You will be.”

You let them usher you inside. Your father tucks you in under the couch’s throw blanket—patterned with plump lemons, each with a tuft of bright green leaves attached to their stems—when you curl up into an armchair. It’s soft, warm, and it smells of Takao.

Your parents retreat to the kitchen. You can hear them puttering around, likely putting together some food for the next few days.

Your phone is heavy in your hand. For a moment, you look at the contact you’d pulled up without thinking. The little rice emoji next to Kita’s name almost seems like it’s swaying in the wind, the golden panicles draping elegantly next to the kanji. You touch his contact and open your messages and stare at the last few you’d both sent. Even over text, Kita’s steadiness comes through.

You start to type. Stop. Start again and then stop once more.

“Shit,” you mutter, closing out of the message thread and tossing your phone onto the couch next to you. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, sinking into the couch even further.

When you wake up, it’s dark out. You blink. The streetlights have come to life; their fluorescent light slants into the living room, cutting through the dim. There’s a glass of water on the side table next to the couch. There’s a note under it, your father’s spidery kanji unmistakable.

You read it as you scrub a hand over your face, trying to get rid of the last vestiges of your nap. It’s a simple note. Just enough to tell you there’s food in the fridge and that they’re just a phone call away.

You push to your feet, folding up the blanket and putting it back in its place. Your footsteps echo as you head into the kitchen. Each one feels unnaturally loud. Like the tolling of a bell, deep and low, impossible to ignore. You bite at your lower lip.

Halfway through reheating your food, you give in. You grab your phone and dial.

“Hey,” Yoshikawa says as soon as she picks up. “Are you okay?”

“The house is so quiet.”

“I’ll be over as soon as I can, okay?”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.”

“Seriously, over the phone is enough—”

“My shoes are already on.”

You blow out a big breath. “Thank you, Asako.”

She hums. “Want me to stay on the line?”

“No, that’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

She says a quiet goodbye before she hangs up.

You clear away your food, your appetite gone, and decide to water the plants while you wait. The kitchen plants are thriving; they’re bathed golden every morning and it shows. You murmur softly to them as you water them, filling the kitchen with the slow rush of running water and your own voice. The plants tremble as the water hits them, their thick, lush fronds dancing under the shower.

You also refill the vase on the kitchen counter.

You know it’s stupid. Cut flowers are just ghosts, unaware that they’re already dead. These ones are curling in on themselves, their edges going crisp, but you can’t bear to get rid of them.

The door to the house clicks open. You can hear Yoshikawa rustling around in the genkan before she appears.

“Hi,” she says.

You burst into tears.

She’s across the kitchen in a heartbeat, gently tugging the watering can out of your hands. She doesn’t say a word as she wraps her arms around you. You press your face into the crook of her neck and she cradles you closer.

Her skin is cool to the touch. It’s a balm against your heated face, like a breeze on a hot summer’s day. You lean into her even more.

She hums, adjusting easily. She pets at the back of your head. “I’ve got you,” she murmurs, low and promising, and you cry harder.

She lets you cry your fill, holding you for as long as you need. You finally pull away when your head starts to pound. You sniffle as she sweeps her thumb under your eye to wipe away some of the remaining tears.

“Want me to call Natsumi?” she asks.

You shake your head. “She’s got that work thing tonight.”

“She’d leave it.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t call her.”

Yoshikawa hums. “Okay. Want to watch a movie?”

“Yes please,” you say and the two of you promptly get into an argument about what you want to watch.

You give in to her when it becomes clear that she has no intention of letting you win. You’d be annoyed but it warms you instead. Movie chosen, the two of you settle in on the couch again. You curl up against her and she weaves your hands together, giving you a light squeeze before turning her attention to the screen.

You stay tucked up against her as you watch. She doesn’t move, letting you cling to her like a limpet, and maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s how steady she is. Maybe it’s simply because she’s there. The credits are rolling, the music of them a gentle, swaying tune that makes you think of rippling rice fields. Yoshikawa shifts under you, and without thinking, you say:

“Do you think it’s my fault?”

She goes still.

“Is what your fault?”

You do not look at her. “Aoshi,” you say, his name heavy on your tongue. “Do you think it’s my fault?”

She shifts to look at you; when you stay staring at the screen, she cups your cheeks gently and turns you to face her. She studies you for a moment. Her eyes are night-sky dark and they gleam in the low lighting.

You don’t know what she sees in your face, but her mouth thins into a gash of a thing, sorrow tucked up into the open wound of it.

“How could it be your fault?” she asks.

“Soulmates,” you whisper. “We weren’t soulmates.”

“That’s true.”

“What if it was fixing that? What if he died so I could be with Kita?”

She sucks in a sharp breath but breathes it out softly. Her lower lip trembles. “It was an accident,” she says. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“But what if it does?”

She knocks her forehead against yours. “Four years of marriage seems like a long time for the universe to wait to course correct you.”

You stay quiet.

She searches your face again. “Listen to me,” she says. “It is not your fault. Do you blame Kita?”

“What?”

“Do you blame Kita?”

“No.”

“Then why are you blaming yourself?”

You twist your wedding ring around your finger. “I just—”

She waits.

A car goes by; the headlights play over Yoshikawa’s face. She gleams golden for a brief moment and you think of a shooting star. The words are heavy on your tongue, sickly sweet, like half-rotted fruit. You catch them there, behind the cemetery gate of your teeth, and swallow them down.

“You asked if I thought it was your fault,” she says softly. “I don’t. It’s not your fault, okay?”

You bite at your lower lip. Yoshikawa meets your gaze head on, her vulpine eyes sharp.

“It is not your fault,” she repeats.

You collapse in on yourself without a sound. Yoshikawa catches you and pulls you close. You rest your head against her breastbone and listen to the sound of her heartbeat.

“You’re sure?” you murmur into her sweater.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you say softly. “Okay.”

For now, it’s enough.

***

The next day comes too soon.

Yoshikawa leaves early. She examines you before she goes, her gaze careful, but she knows as well as you do that you have to face today without her.

The sky is a perfect blue as you head to the crematorium, the same shade as a robin’s egg, a true spring day. You greet Takao’s parents quietly and with great respect. His mother reaches for your hands and squeezes them. It takes everything you have to not flinch away.

The three of you enter together. You hesitate on the doorstep, your breath catching, but Takao’s father says your name. He’s gentle with it but it’s enough to make you walk into the building.

Takao’s father picks up the first bone. You lose yourself during the rest of the ceremony; all you know is the soft bell of your chopsticks against porcelain, a delicate death knell. You come back to yourself as the lid to the urn closes. Your fingers are so tight around the chopsticks that it hurts.

After, Takao’s mother finds you hunched over by the entrance. She trails a soft hand over your shoulders. You take a deep breath. She gazes at you with tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes. You can’t bring yourself to say anything, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Stay in touch,” she tells you.

You nod.

Her pained little smile says she doesn’t believe you.

You watch as both of Takao’s parents get into their car to go to the graveyard. His mother is clutching tightly at the urn, grasping at the last vestiges of her boy before they can slip away. You turn away.

The ride home is like being caught in resin; the world moves around you while you stay still. Once home, you bundle yourself up on the couch in the lemon-patterned throw. You curl up into yourself and swallow down the sobs.

It’s the next day by the time you pick yourself up off the couch. Your head hurts, a slow, steady pulse of pain that’s settled in your left temple. It’s joined by the steady ache of your body, a complaint from your joints that you aren’t as young as you used to be. You groan.

When you check your phone, you’re surprised to see how late you’ve slept. Your messages are a mess, but you ignore most of them, skipping to your group chat with Abe and Yoshikawa. Then you pull up your messages with Kita. You stare at the last few for a moment.

You start to type. Delete what you’ve written. Start typing again, only to stop and stare at your screen.

Finally, you hit call instead.

He picks up before the first ring has even finished.

“Hi,” he says.

You breathe out a soft sigh, his voice melting through you.

“Hi,” you say, your voice watery. “It turns out the bone-picking ceremony is the worst part.”

“Was that today?”

“Yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice tender.

“I know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay.”

You’re both quiet for a moment. You listen to him breathe; it soothes something in you, a scrape you try not to think about.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Kita asks.

You blink. “I’m not sure,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he says. “We’re gonna cook.”

“Kita, it’s the middle of your day!”

“And we’re gonna cook.”

“It’s fine, I can just grab something, you don’t need to—”

“I’m not sayin’ it a third time.”

“You’re so stubborn!”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Fine,” you say. “I’m switching to FaceTime, though.”

“That’s fine.”

As the camera comes online, all you can see is the little rice charm he still has dangling from his phone, something he’d kept even after the rain had ruined his flip phone. You hear him hum and the charm moves so he can fill your screen.

In the afternoon light he’s tanner than ever, his skin burnished bronze. His gray hair rustles in the breeze, even under his hat. He’s rosy-cheeked with exertion and something in you pangs. He gives you a small, fond smile, and you can’t help but smile back.

“Hi,” you say.

He looks like he wants to laugh. “Hi,” he says. “What do you have to cook with?”

You list everything off and he nods, looking thoughtful.

“That’ll work with a recipe I know,” he says. “I can lead ya through it.”

“Okay.”

You talk as you cook, but it’s subdued. None of the normal excited chatter is present, but Kita makes a valiant effort to keep the conversation afloat. He gives you time when you have to take a minute to recollect yourself. He’s patient but keeps you on task. He doesn’t give you time to wallow.

Soon, the savory scent is billowing through the kitchen. Your stomach growls. By the time you’re finished cooking, you’re starving.

“Go ahead and eat,” Kita says. “I can stay if you want.”

You glance at him. “Will you?”

He gives you a small smile. “‘Course.”

“Just for a bit longer,” you say.

He meets your gaze. Under the brim of his hat, his amber eyes have darkened to a deep brown, the color of the earth.

“As long as you need,” he says quietly, and you hear the promise in it.

You know it’s one that he’ll keep.

***

Spring, you find, is unconcerned with sympathy.

It keeps blooming into being, all golden sunlight and birds trilling. The trees are budding, little stitches of green sewn onto branches. Flowers unfold under the sun’s tender touch, turning their faces up towards the light like acolytes at an altar.

The world keeps turning and you can’t keep up.

“Shit.”

“What’s up?” Abe asks.

She’s lounging at your kitchen table, carefully trimming the ends of a lush bouquet that’s bigger than her head. It’s a riot of color, thick dahlias spilling over the paper it’s wrapped in, a sunset of a thing, with deep oranges flaring like fire and the bruised purple of the oncoming night. You think they’re for her girlfriend, but she rarely talks about her with you now.

Silently, you hold out the carton you’d picked up out of the fridge.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, okay, I can take it when I leave. Do you want me to do that?”

“Please,” you say, swallowing down the tears.

You hadn’t even realized you bought it. It’s Takao’s favorite juice, something you never drink, and it’s a brand new carton from yesterday’s delivery groceries.

It’s stupid, you think, to be so affected by something so small, but you can’t stand the idea of it sitting there, never to be drunk. You shove it back into the fridge and sink down to the floor.

Abe’s by your side instantly, crouching down next to you with a gentle hand on your back.

“It’s okay,” she says softly. “You’re okay.”

“Am I?”

It’s scathing, meaner than you’d meant it to be, but you’re so tired.

She winces. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“I just meant it’s okay to grieve—”

Something ugly swells up inside of you and spills out from behind your ribs, an oozing miasma that you can’t swallow down.

“What do you know about grief,” you snarl, your voice a winter crackle of breaking ice. “What do you know about what I lost?”

She sucks in a sharp breath. She pulls her hand off of you; it leaves some of her warmth behind, a ghost of her kindness.

“That’s not fair,” she says quietly. “You know that’s not fair.”

“Oh, please.”

“Wow.”

“You know it’s true.”

“You don’t get a monopoly on grief,” she snaps and you surge to your feet.

“Get out!”

She pushes to her feet as well. She doesn’t look at you as she collects her bouquet and her bag. It’s only in the kitchen’s entrance that she turns to face you.

“I lost Aoshi too,” Abe says, tears brimming in her eyes. “I lost him too.”

She leaves before you can say anything else.

You stand there, breathing heavily, your hands clenched into trembling fists. The first of the tears start to slip hot down your cheeks.

“Goddammit.”

The couch is your familiar haven; you curl up on it as you scour away the tears with the heel of your hand. You watch the afternoon light shift, how it plays across the living room as the sun sinks in the sky. It swathes the room with gold that melts into the softest shade of blue. When true night sets in rendering the living room into darkness, you finally shake yourself into a semblance of reality.

Your stomach growls and you get to your feet. When you open the fridge, the first thing you see is the carton of juice.

The sound it makes as it falls into the garbage can is heavy.

You grab your phone from the counter. There are no messages from Abe; the group chat is solely Yoshikawa talking.

For a moment, you miss the regretful moments of your childhood, where you never had to worry about what to say. How you could flash a light in the window, a firefly apology, and simply move forward.

Instead, you don’t talk to Abe for three days.

“I just—I don’t know how to say sorry,” you tell Kita over the phone, worrying at the sleeve of your shirt. It’s starting to fray.

“‘Sorry’ is a good place to start,” he says.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Could be.”

You sigh. “Kita—”

“I’m just sayin’.”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

He laughs softly. “You’ll feel better,” he tells you. “But you already know that.”

“I do.”

He hums. It’s a low, sweet sound and you bask in it for a moment.

“I should go,” you say as the sound fades away. “The delivery should be here any minute.”

“Groceries again?”

You pick at your fraying sleeve. There’s no judgment in his words but they weigh down on you anyway, an anchor with a heavy chain. You’re still tilted off your axis; you cried in the vegetable aisle of the grocery store last time you went. You haven’t gone back since.

Most days, it’s easier to not leave the house.

“Yeah,” you say softly.

“Do you wanna cook together later?”

“I don’t want to take—”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t have the time.”

You twist the fraying thread around your finger. It cuts into you, making your finger swell as the blood is cut off.

“Not tonight,” you say after a moment. You just don’t have it in you. “But thanks.”

Kita hums again. This time there’s a sharper edge to it. You’re not sure he even realizes it.

But he doesn’t push today.

“Alright,” he says. “If ya change your mind later, just let me know.”

“I will. Bye Kita.”

He says goodbye, but there’s something melancholy woven through it, a thread so thin you barely catch it. It weaves its way through you. You sigh.

You don’t bother to put down your phone. Instead, you call Abe.

“You gonna yell at me again?” she asks as soon as she picks up.

You wince. “No,” you say quietly. “I’m gonna apologize for that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Natsumi. You were just trying to help.”

“I was,” she says softly.

“You deserve to mourn Aoshi, too. I’m sorry if I took that from you. It’s…hard to see past my own grief, sometimes.”

“I know.”

“It won’t happen again.”

She snorts. “We’ll see.”

“Hey!”

“You’re grieving,” she says simply. “Sometimes that means doing stupid shit. It’s not an excuse, but I can understand it.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I know.”

“You’re not supposed to agree!”

“You’re the one that said it!”

The two of you quickly devolve into bickering but it’s sweet at the edges, lined by fondness. Not for the first time, you think of how lucky you are to have the friends you have.

“I couldn’t do this without you,” you say, halfway through catching up on the past few days. “I couldn’t make it without you.”

She goes quiet for a minute.

“You could,” she says. “You could. But you don’t have to.”

The world goes blurry at the edges. You blink back the tears and clear your throat. Abe sniffs, the sound barely audible on the line.

“Are you crying?” you ask.

“No!”

The laughter wells up inside of you before spilling out like a waterfall, flowing fast and free. It fills your living room. You keep laughing until the room is brimming with it, the corners echoing with joy.

It peters out slowly. Even the air feels lighter, you think. Then your stomach sinks, a skipping stone gone too far and falling into the depths.

“Hey,” Abe says softly. “You’re allowed to laugh.”

She’s always known you best.

“It just feels wrong,” you whisper.

“I know. But he would want you to laugh. To be happy. Try to remember that.”

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” she says firmly. “Now let me tell you about—”

The two of you chat for a while longer. Abe regales you with stories that you’ve missed. There’s a shocking amount of them (“I’m a busy girl, you know.”) for the time frame you haven’t been talking. You hadn’t realized how much you missed her until now.

When you hang up, the emptiness of the house comes rushing back in. It’s a tide of a thing, rolling in against the shore of you like a storm, the waves of it lapping higher and higher. You take a deep breath.

You keep the TV on until bedtime, where you replace it with a book. You read and read and read until you can barely keep your eyes open, the kanji blurring at the edges. You put the book down on the nightstand and curl up with Takao’s pillow. You bury your face in it. It still smells like him, just a bit.

It almost lets you pretend that he’s still here.

***

The summer rolls in with a storm.

It’s the first of many, but you think the first is always the saddest. The ground churns beneath the fat droplets as they pelt against the dirt; there are petals scattered around, torn from their stems. You watch one of them float down to the storm drain, a pretty pink sailboat destined to capsize.

The clouds are blue-gray and heavy, bruising the sky. They’re the color of the winter sea and have teeth like it too. There’s no lightning but you can hear the promise of it in far-off thunder, just loud enough to make itself known over the hum of your dryer.

You watch the rain run down the window in rivulets. It’s a bleak picture; even the flowers have been dimmed by the thick gray of the storm, their bright pinks tamped down to a blush of light rose.

“You still there?” Kita asks.

“Sorry,” you say, glancing back at your phone to see him already looking at you. “Got distracted by the rain.”

“S’pouring here.”

“Mhmm, here too. It’s kinda nice for laundry day, though. Even if I can’t hang anything outside. And you get a day off.”

“I suppose.”

You laugh. “You don’t have to sound so put out about it.”

He sighs. “It’s fine. Good day for housework.”

“You keep busy, don’t you?”

“There’s always something ta do.”

You laugh. “True,” you say. “Oh, there goes the dryer, hold on.”

You bundle the warm laundry into the basket, taking a moment to sink your fingers into the mess of clothing, letting it heat your hands.

Kita’s in the middle of mending something when you come back to your phone. For a moment, you just watch him. He’s bent over it, his hair glinting silver in the light of his kitchen, the black tips of it all the darker for it. He moves with steady assurance, the needle flashing in and out of the fabric like lightning. His big hands dwarf the needle but it doesn’t seem to hinder him.

He glances up, his amber eyes finding you immediately. He smiles, soft and fond and a little bit teasing. “Something I can help ya with?”

“Just watching. You’re good at that.”

“Granny taught me,” he says as he finishes, running his finger over the mended tear to make sure it’ll hold. Satisfied, he bites off the thread, his teeth gleaming as he does. “And I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Guess so,” you say, moving your phone and propping it up so you can see him as you fold. You fold up a few of your pants, putting them beside you on the couch. You move without thinking, just talking to Kita as you work, when you come to a stop.

It’s Takao’s shirt. You hadn’t realized it was in the wash—you’ve been putting off washing all of his clothing, afraid that one day you’ll wake up and even the scent of him will no longer linger.

Kita says your name.

You ignore him, running your hands over the shirt instead. You lean down and sniff it and find only the scent of your detergent. You take in a deep, slow breath.

There are more in the basket. You lean down to touch them, grabbing the nearest one. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Kita watching you. He stays quiet.

You fold up another one of Takao’s shirts. It’s soft beneath your fingertips, the cotton worn thin with use. You trace your finger along the pattern. Loop around it, over and over again, until you’re half dizzy with it.

Something in you breaks.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you say, the words spilling from you like an oil slick, catching on your teeth and tongue and coating them with something sour. You fist your hands in the shirt. “Shinsuke, I can’t do this.”

He says your name, quiet and tender.

“It’s just so much,” you sob. “I don’t know what to do without him, I don’t know how to live without him, not anymore. And work—going to the office and smiling like I’m not empty inside, like there’s not this gaping wound inside of me. I can’t do it. I can’t.”

You suck in air in great, gasping breaths, your chest cinching tight, like a marionette caught up in her own strings.

“Breathe with me,” he says, his voice stern. You take in a deep, slow breath, matching his, and then another. “That’s it. There you go.”

Your chest starts to loosen as you breathe; you keep matching with Kita, following his careful lead. When you’re finally steady, you can’t help the way more tears brim on your lash line.

“How am I supposed to do this?” you ask quietly. “How am I supposed to survive this?”

“You’re already survivin’ this,” he says. “It might not feel like it, but you are.”

You lean back and stare out the window. Outside, the cicadas are calling even in the rain, a familiar song; you close your eyes.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you say softly. “I can’t keep doing this. This big, empty house is killing me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Come to the country,” he says.

“What?”

“Come to the country,” he repeats.

“Visiting isn’t—”

“To stay.”

You suck in a sharp breath and bite your lip.

“Just for a while,” he says softly. “And not with me. There’s a granny outside of town who’s got a room that she rents out.”

“Kita…”

“It’s just an option,” he says. “But I think gettin’ out of the city might do you some good.”

You fidget with your wedding ring, twirling the thin band of metal in place. It’s warmed by your skin.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay.”

The two of you lapse into silence as you scrub the remainder of tears away. Your cheeks are still hot and you grimace as a headache starts to make itself known.

“I’ve got a headache,” you say. “I’m gonna go lie down.”

Kita hums, his amber eyes tracing over you. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah,” you say.

“Okay. I’m just a call away.”

You soften. “I know.”

You bid each other a quiet goodbye. You move the laundry out of the way and curl up on the couch, one hand fisted in one of Takao’s shirts. You bring it to your nose and only smell detergent again. You tighten your grip and close your eyes.

You wake to Abe shaking you.

“C’mon,” she says, giving you another little shake. “We brought dinner.”

“Natsu?” you say blearily, rubbing at your eyes. You swat at her when it looks like she’s going to shake you for a third time. She dodges with a grin.

“Yocchan too,” Abe says as Yoshikawa flashes you a peace sign. “How long have you been asleep?”

“Dunno,” you say. “I was on the phone with Kita and he—”

“He what?” Yoshikawa asks, her sly eyes going sharp.

“I was having a…hard time,” you say. “I had a bit of a breakdown. He thinks I should go to the country for a while. Get out of the city.”

Yoshikawa hums, settling down next to you on the couch. She leans over and rubs her thumb over your cheekbone; you realize that there are still salt stains there. She tilts her head, sending her long hair rippling. It gleams in the light and you think of a lake at night, the surface gone dark beneath the moon’s tender touch.

“That might not be a bad idea,” she murmurs.

“No way,” Abe says, plopping down on your other side. “Unless you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” you say miserably, pressing your face into Yoshikawa’s shoulder. “I don’t feel like I know anything anymore.”

Yoshikawa presses her lips against your hairline. “You don’t need to know,” she reminds you. “It’s just an option. You can decide later. Have you eaten?”

You shake your head.

“We brought udon,” Abe informs you. “Because we’re the best.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You are.”

They trade a glance you can’t quite make sense of. Then they’re chivvying you into the kitchen with gentle hands, pushing you into a seat at the table.

The kake udon is still hot. Steam wisps up from it in tiny curls before dissipating, each one undulating like kelp in a current. You stir it and watch the broth swirl.

“You’re supposed to eat it,” Abe says.

You glare at her. She grins.

You take a bite and flavor comes to life on your tongue, deep and rich. You close your eyes to savor the simplicity of it. When you open them again, Abe and Yoshikawa are watching you with fond little smiles.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing,” they chorus.

You narrow your eyes but don’t say anything. The three of you settle into a conversation, moving from story to story like a skipping stone, pausing only to take bites of your food. The chatter flows like a river, certain in its path, and you bathe in the easy familiarity of it.

You’ve just finished your udon when Abe puts her chopsticks down and says: “So. The countryside.”

“Natsumi,” Yoshikawa groans. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?!”

“You’re always jumping in feet first,” Yoshikawa grumbles.

“I’m just curious!”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly. “It might be good to talk about it.”

Abe sends Yoshikawa a victorious grin. Then she turns to you with a softer look on her face. “You don’t have to,” she says.

“I think I might want to.”

“Talk about it? Or go?”

“Both.”

Yoshikawa hums. “Do you think you might be running away?” she asks.

Abe winces along with you.

“It had to be said,” Yoshikawa says, not unkindly. “I can’t understand what you’re going through and I know that, but is going somewhere else really going to change anything? Or are you just running away from something inescapable?”

“Earlier you said her going might be a good thing,” Abe points out.

“It might be,” Yoshikawa says. “But it might not be either.”

“I don’t think I’m running,” you say. “I just think that maybe I need a break. A place that’s not so filled with Aoshi.”

“Okay.”

“What about Kita?” Abe asks.

You scrunch up your brow. “What about him?”

“Will he take it the wrong way?”

“No,” you say. “He knows I’m not looking for anything from him. That I can’t give anything to him.”

“You sure he knows that?”

“Yeah.”

They trade a glance but don’t say anything. You bite at your lower lip.

“Don’t decide tonight,” Yoshikawa says, getting to her feet and collecting the bowls from the table. She sets them down in the sink and pulls on a pair of dish gloves. “Or even tomorrow. You have time.”

“I know that,” you grouse.

She rolls her eyes. “Consider it a reminder, then.”

“Consider me reminded.”

“Don’t be a brat.”

“Oh, don’t ask for the impossible,” Abe says, throwing you an obnoxious grin when you scowl at her.

The conversation flows on into a different topic. The two of them keep drawing you into it, but you’re stuck in your own head, rolling the idea of the country around it like a pebble caught in a wave. You think of the sunshine bathing the fields in gold and the way the air smells different there. The countryside is a world all its own. A world not built around your life with Takao.

You think you might need that.

***

Kita picks you up from the train station a few months later.

“I could have arranged something,” you tell him as he takes your suitcase from you. “You didn’t need to come and get me.”

“I wanted to,” he says calmly. “This all you brought?”

You nod, already shedding your light sweater as the two of you emerge from the station, out of the aircon and into the countryside heat, a lingering remnant of summer. You follow Kita to his truck—old, but well-maintained, with a carefully stenciled rice plant over the passenger side door—and watch him heft your suitcase into the bed of it. He tucks it carefully into place, giving it a tug to make sure it won’t go anywhere.

As he does, you watch the ripple of his back muscles under his shirt. It rides up when he tugs on your suitcase, a crescent moon sliver of paler skin peeking out from under it. He turns around after thumping the truck bed closed, and you tear your gaze away.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Uh-huh.”

You climb into the truck, shutting the door with a solid thump. Across the cab, Kita does the same. The truck rumbles to life. He puts his hand behind your headrest to reverse out of the parking lot, his amber eyes brushing over you before he concentrates on driving. You breathe in through your nose, far too aware of the heat of his hand.

Once he pulls out of the parking lot, the two of you drive in silence. You gaze out the window, watching as the railroad tracks fade away into the town. The tracks are shiny and new, a testament to how recently the station was put in.

“It’s not a long drive,” Kita says, his voice soft. It rolls over you, steady and sure, an anchor of a sound. “Yoshida’s house is just outside town.”

“Okay,” you say. “Thank you for setting this up.”

He glances at you. He’s as stoic as always, but when he looks at you, something in him softens.

“Yer welcome,” he says. His smile is small but it settles over you like a quilt, warm and well-worn. You ache with it.

“Tell me about the farm,” you say, feeling your stomach twist. “How are the ducks?”

He shakes his head. “The same,” he says, that small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Happily gobblin’ up the little pests in the paddies.”

You lean back in the passenger seat, letting his voice wash over you. You’ve always liked the way Kita talks; he’s to the point and brief, but not impatient. Never impatient. Always steady.

The town gives way to the farmland. The truck trundles along the road, kicking up a little cloud of dust behind it. You can see it in the rear view mirror, lingering like smog. The road is lined by a sea of rice paddies that wave gently in the wind, an eddying tide of plants. They’re Midas-touched, gone gold with the season, and they glint like treasure in the sunlight.

You watch the world pass by and marvel at how big it is. In the distance, you can see the hills, rising green into the horizon’s gentle embrace, cutting through the skyline. There are power towers running along the edge of them; you trace along the lines with your index finger.

A cyclist goes by: it’s a young girl, her hair flowing freely in the wind. Her dress—periwinkle blue, almost the same shade as the sky—flaps around her, too, but her no-nonsense boots are steady on the pedals.There’s dirt smeared on her cheek. She waves cheerfully at the truck. Kita raises his hand in acknowledgement but doesn’t stop.

“You know her?”

“It’s a small town,” he says. “That’s Suzuki’s girl. His youngest. You’ll probably meet her. Her granny is friends with Yoshida.”

You lower your window and let the breeze play over you. It tugs playfully at your collar; it keeps the worst of the humidity at bay. Still, the heat rolls over you in a wet lick.

“S’hot,” you drawl, rolling your head around to look at Kita.

He glances at you and gives you a little smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Ugh.”

He smiles again and turns into a drive. “This is Yoshida’s,” he says.

The farmhouse is older, but it’s clearly been cared for through the years. The engawa has several types of windchimes hanging from it; they sing out a crystalline symphony as the breeze picks up. There’s laundry on the line in the front yard and a few small vegetable patches surrounding it. You see squash starting to fatten on the vines and the remnants of strawberry season, the very last of the berries gone a deep red.

“Okay,” you say, wiping your suddenly sweaty palms against your thighs as a woman appears on the engawa. “Right.”

“It’ll be fine,” Kita says, laying a hand over yours. His palm is work-rough, his fingertips callused, and you can feel the strength in each flex of his fingers. He gives you a little squeeze. “You’ll be fine.”

You nod and slide out of the truck at the same time as him. You fidget as he rounds the back of the truck, the bed popping open as he grabs your suitcase. The woman on the engawa comes to the edge of it; she reaches up with a gnarled hand and drags her finger along a chime carved from wood. Its sound is more of a hollow echo than a chime, but she smiles anyway.

Kita comes up beside you, your suitcase in hand. “Let’s go.”

“Right.”

You follow him up the drive and to the engawa. Yoshida’s a small woman, her black hair shot through with gray, like a river stone in dark water. She’s hunched in on herself slightly, and the skin on the back of her hands is papery with age, but her eyes are sharp.

“Shin-chan,” she says warmly as the two of you approach. “It’s good to see you.”

He gives her a little bow. “It’s good to see you too, Yoshida.”

“I’ve told you to call me Granny, boy.”

He smiles. “Yes, Granny.”

“Is this your friend?”

“Yes, this is her.”

You sketch out a respectful bow and tell her your name. She repeats it, testing the sound of it on her tongue. She gives a decisive nod.

“It’s a good name,” she says. “Come, let me show you to your room.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, reaching out to grab your bag from Kita. He sidesteps you easily, hefting it up and gesturing you forward. “Shinsuke—”

“Don’t make Granny wait,” he chides.

You scowl at him but head up on the engawa, ducking beneath a set of clear chimes that are scattering rainbows around on the ground and the side of the house alike. You toe off your shoes at the genkan and slip on the house slippers that Yoshida gestures to.

The farmhouse is cozy as you wander through it, the decor minimal but still homey. It smells warm, like fresh dashi simmering on the stovetop.

The room Yoshida leads you to is small but perfect. There’s a twin bed tucked into the corner and a desk with a little vase of flowers on it, their periwinkle blossoms waving in the breeze coming in from the open window. The quilt on the bed is handmade, each square featuring a different crop in the height of their season, beautifully stitched and filled with care.

You step inside and trace a finger over an embroidered daikon as Yoshida starts to go over the expectations for sharing the house. You listen as best you can but most of your attention is now on the window. It looks over the paddies. You watch them ripple with the wind, a golden sea of slow, sweet waves.

Kita nudges you lightly; you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He smiles at you knowingly, his eyes crinkled at the edges, and you refocus on Yoshida. She’s smiling, too, a little twinkle in her eye, but she doesn’t say anything aside from continuing to talk about shared cleaning duties.

“Any questions?” she asks, hands on her hips.

You shake your head. “No,” you say. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

She waves a gnarled hand. “You remember any questions, come find me,” she says. “I’ll let you settle in.”

She’s out the door before you can respond, closing it firmly behind her. You blink.

Kita nudges you again. “Where do you want this?” he asks. You glance at your suitcase, nestled carefully between his feet.

“Over there is fine,” you say.

He puts your bag where you gesture and then turns to you. He watches you for a moment, a small, fond smile tilting his lips up. “How’re you feeling?”

“Dunno yet,” you say. “It’s all so new.”

“S’fair.”

“I think it’ll be good, though,” you say slowly, glancing out the window again. The countryside stretches far before you, the rice stalks glistening in the sun, and something in you shifts. You toy with your necklace, rubbing your wedding ring between your fingers, ignoring how it tugs on the chain. “I think it’ll be good.”

“Good. I’ll let you settle in some more,” he says. “I’ll be downstairs.”

“Shinsuke?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” you say softly.

“Fer?”

“All of this,” you say, a little bit helplessly. “All of it.”

“Of course,” he says. His amber eyes are almost glowing in the afternoon light, the color of sunlit whiskey, a deep golden brown. He opens his mouth and then pauses.

You tilt your head, but he shakes his head and just gives you a small smile.

He leaves the room with the same confident grace he always has, his lean muscles coiling under his skin as he moves. For a moment, you just watch him. He moves with careful intent. Not a single motion wasted. It’s impressive, the control he has over himself, and he does it so easily.

You sit down on the bed as he makes his way down the hallway. You glance around the room again. You reach up to your necklace again, wrapping your hand around the wedding rings dangling from it. Tears burn in the corners of your eyes.

You lay back on the bed, into the patch of sunlight that’s pooling on the pillow. It’s hot. Outside, the countryside sings, from the quiet melody of the rice rustling to the calling of the storks. The breeze tugs at your clothes and hair as it spills in through the window. It feels nice. Real.

You close your eyes.

When you wake up, it’s gone twilight, night encroaching upon the last light of the horizon. The sky is a bruise of a thing, deep purple and glittering with stars. You rub the bleariness from your eyes and curse to yourself.

Your phone screen is bright in the dark; you wince as it sears your eyes.

Kita has sent you a message about how he didn’t want to wake you and promises he’ll see you soon. You text him back and scrub at your face again to wake yourself up. When that fails, you wander down the hall to the bathroom. The cool water wakes you up quickly. It’s crisp and clean and you wonder if it’s the country or if it’s just in your head.

“Yer up,” Yoshida says crisply when you step into the kitchen. Her words are almost sharp, but her eyes are kind. “I sent Shin-chan home—the boy looked like he was about to wait ‘round.”

“Oh,” you say. “I’m sorry if I kept either of you waiting. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

She waves you off with one hand. “Travelin’ is tiring,” she says. “I’m about to make dinner if ya’d like some.”

“Can I help?”

“You can chop.”

You sit where she gestures and take the squash she hands you. It’s as orange as a sunset, with thick ribs and a wide, sturdy stem. You get to work cutting it into little cubes per her instructions.

The two of you work quietly. The breeze flutters in from the open shoji; it’s still hot but it’s cooling off quickly with night settling in.

“It’s beautiful here,” you say absentmindedly, staring out the open door into the fields again. They’re moonlit, bleached to a soft white-gold, shimmering as they dance in the wind.

“It is. Been here my whole life and it’s never lost that prettiness.”

“I can’t imagine it ever does.”

Yoshida glances at you.

“It’s a good place to take time away,” she says, matter-of-fact. “It’s just different here.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m hoping so.”

She hums.

The two of you chat as you keep making dinner. Yoshida’s son—broad-shouldered and kind-faced—comes home from the fields just as you finish, earning a scolding from his mother for being so late. You politely look away but can’t stop the small smile from blooming on your lips. You cover it with a little cough.

He introduces himself sheepishly then joins the conversation easily and happily. The talk carries through the meal, warm and flowing. The night passes quickly with them.

As you get ready for bed, you can’t help but think that maybe this will work after all.

#kita shinsuke x reader #kita x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #bee writes hq!!#.lbgtm

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