#he loves fishing and terrified of his wife

[uuuhshiny]

Russell Crowe in War Machine

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying. 

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer. 

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm. 

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant. 

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines. 

John’s icon dims. 

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to. 

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you. 

He tried to call as often as he could. 

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down. 

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic. 

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.” 

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?” 

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening. 

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind. 

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?” 

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work. 

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth. 

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together. 

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad? 

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears. 

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.” 

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted? 

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him. 

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind. 

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with. 

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present. 

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…” 

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear. 

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?” 

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring. 

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts. 

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor. 

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs. 

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.” 

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin. 

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing. 

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?” 

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation. 

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.” 

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords. 

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else. 

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences. 

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips. 

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends. 

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute. 

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later. 

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?” 

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?” 

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name. 

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed. 

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click. 

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms. 

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat. 

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening. 

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh. 

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.” 

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod. 

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.” 

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room. 

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.” 

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight. 

You steel yourself and raise the box. 

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair. 

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully. 

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm. 

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead. 

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders. 

“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed. 

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship. 

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!” 

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly. 

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.” 

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? 

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it. 

Pregnant. 

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly. 

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts. 

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss. 

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold. 

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again. 

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.” 

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.” 

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.” 

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.” 

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second. 

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.” 

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child. 

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.” 

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.” 

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave. 

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet​, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

[cordeliawhohung]

Leftovers [3/3]

Simon Riley x fem!Reader | a non-canon addition to my mafia!141 series

part 1 | part 2 | playlist

you love him

warnings: non-con!!!! attempted suicide, self harm, abusive relationships, spanking/impact, threats, stalking, mind the tags!!! dead dove do not eat

wc: 5.2k

The dilapidating motel room that you were unfortunate enough to take refuge in smelled like Simon. Vaguely, anyway.

Damp air greeted you the moment you opened the door to your room, and the old, wet scent of cigarette smoke nearly suffocated you. You flipped the lights on where they greeted you with a flicker and buzz, yet hardly did anything to illuminate the dull wallpaper and discolored carpet. Every documentary about real life crime warned you against places like that; it was the type of room where people entered yet never exited without a gaping hole in their chest. 

Its unpleasant welcome nearly had you second guessing your escape, and a pang of trepidation echoed throughout your chest. Could you really subjugate yourself to a night alone and survive? Solitarily rotting in bed just like you used to as a pet? A shaky breath expelled past your lips as you tossed your bag onto the foot of the bed as you locked the door behind you. No, that was a different kind of solitude. Not one that you were forced into. Not something intentionally loveless. 

That was freedom. The only reason it terrified you was because you had never experienced it before. 

The digital clock on the nightstand read 2:36 which did little to quell the lump in your throat. If Simon wasn’t already home by then, you knew he would be soon. He would come home to an empty apartment, devoid of the woman he so fondly called sweetheart, and that made your stomach protest something fierce. You had only ever experienced short bursts of his anger previously over minor transgressions you had committed previously. Ones that you quickly solved lest he completely burst. If he had gotten upset by you merely asking to have your phone back, you didn’t even want to imagine the rage that would erupt within him when he realized you were gone. 

A heavy breath expelled from your chest as you sat on the edge of the bed. A thin layer of grime seemed to cover the sheets, but you knew you couldn’t expect anything more from one of the cheapest and low rated hotels in London. It was your own fault for trying to lay as low as possible; you weren’t sure there was enough money on your card to afford anywhere without bloodstains, anyway. Ignoring the uncomfortable filth that surely stained your clothes, you fished your phone out from your pocket where the screen lit up brighter than the light above your head. 

John’s text messages illuminated the screen, and you felt your throat grow tight again. His terrible wish for you to be there with him and Mrs. Price, and that fucking video of the ultrasound. You still weren’t fully convinced that it wasn’t all some sort of cruel joke. Simon said he had told John about everything. How you were done with them, how you were tired of being treated like nothing. So why the messages? 

Unless Simon had lied about that, too. 

An unsteady sigh passed between your lips as your thumbs hovered over the screen. While John and his wife hadn’t exactly been the most loving, they had never once lied to you. Not that you knew of, anyway. Since you couldn’t get the truth out of Simon, maybe you could get it out of them, yet the task was so daunting you swore you would throw up again. 

So you sat there, hunched over on the side of the bed with your phone in hand, until the red glow of the digital clock read just past three in the morning. Frayed nerves hindered your brain’s ability to hold a coherent thought, and you had spent so much time sitting there trying to think of something to say that your phone was nearly dead. Nothing good would come out of a conversation with John that late in the night, if he was still even awake. With lethargic thumbs, you typed out a quick message asking him to call you in the morning, and then the screen went dark as you locked it. 

Answers. That’s all you wanted. But your fuzzy and exhausted brain couldn’t handle that. You had spent the last few hours running like your life depended on it — running like a bad pet. Come morning, you would get what you wanted. In the meantime, you would pray sleep would take you away. 

That night was the first night that you slept fully dressed since you started living with Simon. Always had to have you bare with your naked body up against his while you slept. Such easy access to your cunt all he had to do was slither his hands between your legs to get you purring like a kitten. Some poor touch-starved creature that would do anything for the attention of something with teeth too sharp to love properly. 

You tried not to think too hard about it as you set your phone face down on the nightstand and settled into bed. You weren’t brave enough to climb underneath the covers in the fear that something truly might bite you, so you curled up like a cat on top of the comforter. The lights stayed on that night, as it had been so long since you slept alone you weren’t sure you could stomach the darkness. Childish. That thought made you cringe, but that’s what you had been reduced to. Maybe it was all you had ever been. 

When you hugged your pillow tight to your core that night, the full weight of the silence around you made your eyes sting. There was no heartbeat to lull you to sleep that night. It was one of the things you remembered craving so dearly when you lived with the Prices, something Simon had provided you without question. You wanted to cry. To mourn the things you had and the things you lost, but you refused to let those walls see your tears. 

Once your eyes closed, you swore you only slept for a single moment before they opened to find the summer sun peeking through the tacky curtains. A dull ache in your neck blossomed and radiated from the back of your skull to your shoulder blades, and the sour smell of smoke had permeated into your clothes and hair. Rolling over to stare at the digital clock revealed that it was just before seven in the morning. You had hardly gotten any sleep at all, yet you already buzzed with anticipation and uneasiness. 

An anxious hand reached for your phone where you quickly checked through your notifications. Several junk notifications clogged up your phone since you turned it on. Old emails that you hadn’t checked in months and stupid spam call notifications from weeks back. But John had yet to respond to your text, or even see it, and though that ignited a pit of worry in your stomach, you knew you had to give him time. He always got home late. Him and Mrs. Price probably slept in. 

You hated that you still had their routine so ingrained in your mind. 

No matter. There was a plan you had in your mind; steps you had to take in order to really be free from your old life. The first step was getting clean, and then getting the fuck out of there. 

Time didn’t exist in the shower, and neither did the water bill. You had quite the time watching droplets of water dance on the foggy glass door as you stood underneath the stream's embrace. Each time one fell, another formed to take its place before falling too, like some neverending dance. You watched the streaks form as you washed your body with the skin stripping complimentary body wash the motel left on the counter. It hardly got sudsy, and it didn’t leave you feeling refreshed, but it replaced that stale smoke scent with the vague idea of green apples, and that was enough for you. 

A thick veil of mist greeted you when you exited the shower, and you blindly nabbed a towel to dry your body off with. Its fabric wasn’t at all kind on your skin either, yet you still found yourself wrapping it around your body before exiting the bathroom. The sun had changed positions in the room as the morning meandered along, and you found yourself praying that John had finally answered you as you entered the main part of the room. 

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” 

Simon sat on the edge of the motel bed with his elbows on his knees. A dim light illuminated the silvery scars on his face as he scrolled through the phone in his hands. Your phone. His dark eyes broke away from the screen to look up at you, and the twitch in the corner of his mouth left your mouth dry. He turned the screen to face you where he then gently shook it as if it were contraband; something you weren’t supposed to have. Though you couldn’t read what it said, you could see John had responded to your request to call him. 

“You’ve been busy. Been naughty,” Simon continued as he turned your phone off and tossed it next to him. “Didn’t even leave a note. Just think you could up and leave?”

Your hands gripped the knot in your towel as your body began to turn to stone. It was difficult to tell if you trembled because of the cool air of the room or if you trembled because of the fear that coursed through your veins. Either way, your mouth wasn’t able to form any response to his biting tone. 

At your silence, Simon tapped his fingertips on top of your phone, causing it to lightly bounce on the old boxspring mattress. “Decided you had enough of me? Is that it? Wanting to go back to John? Go back to bein’ a fuckin’ pet?” 

“No,” you said once your tongue finally decided to work. “I just… wanted answers.” 

“Well, I’m all ears for any questions you have, sweetheart,” Simon snapped. 

His tone had you recoiling against the wall, yet you refused to look away from him. If you did, you knew it would give him enough time to pounce like an animal, and he looked almost excited to sink his teeth into you. It was wrong. You thought you would have had more time. Simon wasn’t supposed to find you that quick; no, he wasn’t supposed to find you at all. Yet there he sat, on the edge of your bed, like an owner trying to wrangle a bad dog back home. 

“How did you find me?” you asked. 

“You used a card. Anything electronic is easy to track, ‘specially in a place like this. All it took was me saying I was your husband to get the lad at the front to give me your room number. Surprised you made it this far on your own, considering how pathetic you are without me,” he said with a sour chuckle. 

“My card?” you repeated. “But… you don’t- how do you have access to my account? You can’t track me without-”

“One of the perks of working for John Price,” Simon deadpanned. 

Every word that came out of Simon’s mouth unraveled you, and it only got worse. It was as if everything he had ever told you was a lie. How naive of you to think otherwise; of course they were lies. He had lied to you from the very beginning, and instead of running then while your feet were unchained, you chose to ignore it. Hope and pray it would go away. Now, it was too late. Every part of you seemed bound to Simon, and you weren’t sure you could stand to tear yourself from him. 

“I thought you said-” you started. 

“That I wasn’t working for him anymore? That I told him how you chose to live with me? No,” Simon interrupted. “He’s got too many resources. Besides, no one just ups and leaves the mafia, sweetheart.” 

Your bottom lip began to tremble at that word. Mafia. Everyone knew about the violence that plagued London, even someone as much of a recluse as you. You didn’t want to believe him, but it made sense. Why else did John always work late? Why else would he come home some days with scuffed up knuckles? Besides, he only ever seemed to tell the truth when he tried to prod a response out of you. Simon’s smirk was faint but painfully noticeable in the crease of his lips as he tilted his head at you. 

“Yeah, figured he didn’t tell you about that,” he huffed. “No one leaves. Not even pets. Not even you. Who do you think was protectin’ you from him this whole time? Who do you think removed his tracker in your phone? Why do you think we always used my money to pay for everything? If it wasn’t for me, you’d be right back where you started. Unloved, neglected and fuckin’ abused.” 

His words cut you to pieces worse than anything else ever had. It was worse than learning Mrs. Price was pregnant. Worse than the first time Simon had ever lied to you. Hot, fat tears rolled down your cheeks while your throat constricted so tightly you swore you would choke. You made the mistake of looking away from Simon as a small sob rattled your shoulders. In a pitiful attempt to comfort yourself, you wrapped your arms around your front, keeping your towel in place as your knees nearly buckled. 

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. 

Simon’s feet were surprisingly soft against the stiff carpet of the motel room, and it took everything in you not to lean into his touch. Warm fingers ghosted against your arms, and something primal and pathetic yearned for more. But you didn’t miss him. Not Simon Riley. You just missed the warmth of someone else; warmth you were certain you could find in someone less hurtful. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Simon urged. His thumbs rubbed against your shoulders, and something that should have felt like knives in your skin felt all too comforting instead. “Let’s go home.” 

Some broken part of you wanted to say yes. To slap the band-aid back on and continue to let those pathetic feelings fester inside of you with no air to breathe. It would have been easy to say yes, to follow him back home like a wounded animal and continue to live in your cage. But you were so close to freedom, to living on your own without the need to be chained to anyone else. 

You didn’t bother to wipe your tears before looking at Simon. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, making your skin feel clammy. A few more tears blinked free from your eyes, staining your cheeks like glitter as you stiffened your upper lip. 

“I can’t,” you finally said, though the words felt like they would kill you. “I don’t want to. I… just wanna be left alone.” 

Simon’s face began to morph in front of your eyes. All that softness in his expression hardened into something more firm and demanding; dissapointment. It wasn’t until your back hit the wall that you realized your choice had already been decided for you. No wasn’t an answer. Neither was yes. It had only ever been what Simon had already chosen for you. 

“Wasn’t asking,” he warned. 

His grip seared your skin through your towel as his hands rested on your hips, but you had nowhere to run. Useless hands pressed against his chest as you tried to fight back against the immoveable object that was Simon Riley. Hot breath fanned across your face when he pressed his forehead to yours, and you tried not to flinch when he yanked your towel off of your body, tossing it aside where it fell in a limp pile by your feet. 

“C’mon, you’re smarter than this, arent’cha?” he prompted. Simon began to move backwards, and his firm grip on your waist gave you no choice but to stumble after him. Shame pricked the corners of your ears with a searing heat as he dragged you around, naked, like a dog on a leash. “If you don’t come home, Price’ll find ya. You understand that, yeah sweetheart? I’m the only thing keeping you from an early fuckin’ grave.” 

All it took was a simple turn and a harsh shove to get you face first on the bed. The mattress was unforgiving as it hardly gave way underneath your weight, knocking the breath from your lungs. Sweaty palms dug into the crummy comforter as you tried to push yourself up, but once Simon’s knees sunk into the mattress next to you, his hand pushed against the back of your neck, keeping your face into the bed. 

“Simon!” you cried. “Wait- please stop. I’m sorry! I just- please don’t. Please, I didn’t mean to upset you I just- there had to be a reason for it! For them to treat me like that!”

Ignoring your pleas, Simon snaked an arm underneath your hips and pulled up, putting your ass on display. An angry hand rested on the crux of your bum where his fingers twitched with anticipation. 

“A reason? It’s because they saw you as a fuckin’ pet. Nothin’ more than an animal to feed and play with,” Simon bit. “Until I found ya. Saved you from that shit, didn’t I sweetheart? Then you fuckin’ run out on me. Ruinin’ everything I worked so hard to build for ya. Ungrateful slag.” 

“Please stop!” you sobbed, cries half muffled by the bed. 

He allowed you no more time to continue to snivel before his hand raised from your bum only to slap against it with a firm palm. Its sting pierced through your skin with such force it stole your breath away, and with Simon’s hand still on the back of your neck, you had nowhere to run from the pain. Your chest heaved with a sob at the sensation, and you felt your feet involuntarily kick behind you. 

“Quiet,” he warned, voice dangerously low. “Don’t need you causin’ anymore trouble than you already have.” 

Once more his hand came down with a sharp crack where pain prickled across your skin. In some pitiful attempt to ward him off, you reached your arms behind your back as if you could push him away. All it did was make him chuckle as his thumb rubbed against the back of your neck. 

“Yeah, ‘nuff of that. Of all of it. I’ll set you straight and take you home and we can forget all about this little stunt of yours,” Simon hummed. 

Despite it all, your body could only react viscerally to the thought of returning home with him. That was the day you were supposed to become your own person without being bound to anyone else. Go out on your own and finally live your life as a human rather than a trophy. You were so close to tasting it you could scream. 

“I can’t. I can’t…” you whined. 

Another spank and your thoughts cut off with a squeak. 

“Don’t fuckin’ understand anythin’ do you?” Simon hissed. “Either you leave here with me, or you leave as John’s. He’ll find and track you within a heartbeat, and he won’t be as kind as me. Dunno about you sweetheart, but I’m not gonna sit around and let him take you again. So you leave here with me, or you don’t leave at all.” 

Not a single word rose in your mind at his threat. Tears and snot continued to stain the linens underneath you as you took his punishment, and as his hand came down on you once more, you started to believe that you deserved it. Every single bit of it. How ungrateful of you to deny him after everything he had done for you. Keeping you safe. Keeping you away from John. From the worst members of the mafia. Everything he had ever done had been to protect you, right? 

“Did you really think I’d let you run off like that? After everythin’ I've done for you?” he continued. His weight shifted on the bed as he slipped from your side to your backside. With his hand no longer on your neck, you were able to take a deep breath, though the air felt stale and salty. “No, my girl doesn’t run away. Not the mother of my kid.” 

Ice formed in your veins at his words, and you were too shocked to even cry about it. You blinked rapidly as you raised your head from the bed, and your stomach turned so violently you nearly puked all over the sheets. 

“What?” you choked out. 

Simon’s hands rubbed over your sore rump as if soothing the pain he inflicted on you only to fall from your skin a moment later. A sharp, distinct clink sounded behind you, followed by the unzipping of his pants. 

“It’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” he asked as he pulled his cock free. “You said it yourself. You want what they have.” 

Electricity jolted through your body when the head of Simon’s pre-cum smeared cock tapped the underside of your ass. Your breath hitched in your throat as he grabbed your hips and raised you higher up, angling you just right so he could press against your cunt. Everything in you screamed to run, but the prey in you knew you wouldn’t get far enough for it to matter. 

“You wanted love, so I gave you that. They never fucked you, so I gave you that, too. Just wasn’t enough for you, was it?” Simon droned as he pressed into you. Without your arousal to assist, the stretch of him not only burned, but felt like it tore. Only the head of his cock had made it inside of your constricting cunt, and even that was too much. “Still cryin’ all the time. Still upset. The only thing that they have that we don’t is a kid. If you want one so bad, then I’ll give ya one.” 

“Wait, please,” you choked out as you wiggled. 

“What’cha so worked up for, sweetheart?” Simon patronized. “With how often I’ve fucked you before, you’re probably already knocked up anyway. No harm in trying a bit more, yeah?” 

It was impossible to answer once Simon began to press further into you. Everything within you was wound up so tight with muscles revolting against him as he made you take every painful inch of him. His love had never hurt like that before. Never felt like it tore you open to fix what was never broken in the first place. Not until then as he speared you open with no regard for the way it ripped you to shreds. 

It only got worse when he bottomed out, forcing your cunt to take what it didn’t want to. His hips snapped against yours with force so strong you were left breathless. Each agonizing thrust left you a mess as half created sobs erupted from your throat. No amount of begging would get him to change his mind or set you free. This was what you deserved for biting the hand that fed you. 

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Simon grunted. Searing anger kept his body going as he fucked you, hands digging into either side of your hips. “A man to fuck you. To be the sweet little trophy wife. Have a cute kid or two. Isn’t it? Say it, sweetheart.” 

But you couldn’t. Even if it wasn’t for his cock bullying every breath from your lungs, you didn’t think you would be able to admit to anything. So you dug your face further into the sheets, no longer caring about the filth of it all; you just wanted to hide away as best as you could. Simon wasn’t impressed with your silence, and his hand came down hard against your backside as his relentless pace continued. You could almost feel his blood boiling in his veins from his touch alone. 

“I said, say it,” he barked. “Tell me what you want.” 

Agonizing aches ripped through your pelvis at the intrusion, and you found your hands pawing at your stomach as if you could soothe the pain. There was no love behind any of his actions. Perhaps there never had been. You just knew that you wanted it to stop. 

“You!” you finally wailed. “I want you!” 

“‘Course you do. Can’t fuckin’ live without me, can you sweetheart?”

It was enough to satisfy Simon, and he stopped verbally antagonizing you as he continued in his pursuit. Trembling fingers dug into the sheets as you kept your face hidden in the musty bed. It couldn’t go on forever, and as Simon’s hips began to stutter, you knew it would be over soon. You did your best to stifle your whimpering as he approached the end, yet he only seemed to pick up speed as if to egg you on. 

In that moment, your mind painfully reminded you of the first time you ever met him. How he just appeared in your life sitting on the living room couch as if he had always known you. You wished that you had never obeyed John that night. Never allowed Simon’s arm to wrap around you as he intertwined your lives together to the point you could no longer undo the knots. It was too late for regret. You were bound to him, soul, mind, and soon to be body. 

“Fuck.” 

Simon’s groan was deep in his throat as he remained fully sheathed inside of you while his cock twitched unabashed against the screaming walls of your cunt. The aches only got worse as he kept himself pressed up against your bruised cervix, but you bore it as he gave you every last drop of his spend. 

There was nothing left to keep your rump up in the air when Simon pulled out and away from you, and you collapsed on the bed as a mess of sticky flesh. His chuckle, once so soothing and melodic, sounded like nails on a chalkboard as he fixed his pants behind you. The bed rocked with his weight as he sat with his back turned to you, yet you paid no mind to it as you squeezed your eyes shut. You prayed that if you squeezed them tight enough, something would whisk you away and take you far, far away from that fucking motel room and away from Simon Riley. 

But you never had such luck before. 

That stale scent of cigarette smoke only grew stronger as Simon lit a fresh one. His chest expanded as he took a hefty drag, and you hoped that the ash would fall onto the carpet and burn the whole building to the ground. Half the cigarette burned by the time he turned around to face your motionless body on the bed. He cooed as he reached out for you, fingers gently raising your chin so that he could lean forward and press a kiss against your limp lips. A little bit of smoke still lingered in his mouth, and when you opened your eyes you tried to pretend that they watered because of the burn rather than the pain. 

“Ready to go home, sweetheart?” 

You didn’t remember if you fought against him when you got in the car. You didn’t remember anything. It was a complete mystery how you ended back up in Simon’s bed in that apartment, naked just how he liked you. All you knew was that everything hurt, and he had won. The next few weeks consisted of nothing but an incomplete recollection, like you looked at your memories through shattered glass. There was a vague memory of him bathing you in the shower, and another one of him feeding you by hand. It was all disconnected. Unreal. 

Your body didn’t belong to you anymore. Maybe it never did. You had become an outsider, watching that useless hunk of flesh meander around an apartment you were too tired to escape from. There was nothing in the world that would save you from whatever curse that was wrought upon you; that Simon Riley. 

The only thing you could somewhat remember were your dreams. One night, you dreamt you hid yourself away in the bathroom. It angered Simon, for some reason you couldn’t articulate. Mean hands pounded against the wood of the door as if he tried to break it down, all while he demanded you open it. You remembered voicing how you wanted to go home; how you just wanted to sleep. There was some deep dark feeling harbored inside of you that you couldn’t purge with your hands alone. 

When the door finally came down, you suddenly were no longer in the bathroom. It was cold, but you were wrapped in more blankets than you could count while Simon wrapped bandages around your arms. They felt like cuffs. Like they were more chains to keep you tethered to him, yet you didn’t fight. You couldn’t fight. You knew not to anymore, because bad pets always got punished. 

“Not leavin’ me yet, sweetheart. Not like this,” he mumbled. 

Those bandages were still on your arms the next day, and you realized it had never been a dream at all. Just another bit of your life that was too fuzzy to fully experience. It was then that you finally realized that not even Death Himself could save you from Simon Riley. Nothing could. 

It wasn’t until you were in the bathroom again that you were slammed back into your body. Each sensation that had felt so terribly numb before suddenly became painfully sharp. A terrible ache buzzed throughout your arms, stomach, and head the moment you returned to yourself. Something had stolen your conscience for a while just to kick it back in that silly brain of yours the moment it was bored, and your entire body grew cold with stark realization at what was in your hands. A pregnancy test, with two faint little lines that smiled up at you. 

Adverting your gaze from that terrible object gave you no solace as you were met with the stomach-churning image of yourself in the mirror. Between the red veins that strained in your eyes and the peeling skin on your lips, you hardly recognized yourself. Still, Simon saw past all the broken parts of you as he stood behind you, hands snaking around to your front to grab your stomach. He was much too comforting for the pain that grew in your body. 

“My sweet girl,” he whispered as he kissed the top of your head. 

He breathed in your scent and you wondered if he could pick up on the notes of rot that laid underneath the smell of shampoo and product. He had killed you a long time ago, at least some part of you, and left it to fester and decay in a place you couldn’t heal. With shaky hands, you placed the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter as you let Simon pull you against his chest. His warmth threatened to engulf you, but you knew nothing would ever burn hot enough to ignite that smothered flame inside of you. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

With a voice as empty as your eyes, you replied: “I love you, too.”

[fatkish]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write a one-shot or headcannons for a yandere Kokushibo x fem reader? The reader is not affiliated with the Demon Slayer corps. She's just a civilian who grows and sells flowers and happens to catch Kokushibo's eye(s). When Kokushibo first abducts her, she is terrified, but she slowly starts to ease up around him. Also, if you could make this NSFW, I would forever be in your debt 🙏🙏

Yandere Kokushibo x Fem Reader HCs

NSFW

You were just a random civilian that lived in a small village. You lived in a small house nearly outside the village where you grew flowers and herbs to sell

You mostly lived off the land, foraging and hunting for food and game, you knew how to fish and hunt boar with a bow and arrow

You may have been poor, but you lived a happy life in your village

Some of the herbs you grew were medicinal and people would either trade for or buy them from you

One day Kokushibo was passing through in his search for the blue spider lily and heard of you from passing townsfolk

He went to check you out to see if you knew anything about the blue spider lily and surprisingly you had heard of it

Kokushibo eavesdropped on your conversation to yourself as you were foraging late one night, and that’s how he learned that you supposedly knew about the blue spider lily

He followed you and kept an eye on you as you returned to your small house

As time went by, Kokushibo kept spying on you, he told himself it was because he believed you would show him where to find the blue spider lily

As he watched you, he slowly developed feelings for you and decided that you weren’t safe here, so he abducted you in your sleep and brought you to his home

When you woke up you were initially frightened upon seeing the six eyed ‘man’, he told you he didn’t intend to hurt you and that you would be living with him from now on

In the beginning, you were nervous and scared of him to which, he was very understanding of and didn’t hold it against you

At first, it was hard to adjust to living with him, you had thought about escaping and were creating plans to escape when you saw him training one night

You saw how fast he was and what he was capable of and decided that running away wasn’t an option

It took some time but eventually you grew accustomed to living with him. Occasionally you would get angry and spend the day outside or lock yourself in your room

Kokushibo was actually very understanding and would leave you alone to cool down when you got angry. He never raises his hand to you and he is extremely patient with you when you would get like this

Kokushibo is actually very attentive and caters to your needs. If you’re hungry, he’ll hunt for you and bring you back a boar or deer

If you want to fish, then you must do it when he’s nearby, he says it’s in case you fall into the water

Kokushibo generously allowed you to make a garden just like the one from your old home. He even brought you things to plant from your old home

Having a garden gives you something to do and it helps Kokushibo make sure you’re eating well

If you had refused to eat, Kokushibo would have force fed you like you were a toddler, not letting you leave the table until you’ve eaten a sufficient amount

He would swaddle you in a blanket in his arms like a baby and force you to eat if absolutely necessary

If you get cold at night, Kokushibo has no issues with letting you snuggle up to him. He’ll wrap an arm around you and hold you close against him

If you lay your head in his lap, he’ll comb his fingers through your hair and gently scratch your scalp

After a year of living with Kokushibo you both grew closer. You came to understand his feelings for you and you accepted them

Kokushibo would eventually begin to properly court you, bringing you little gifts like hairpins, flowers, a few kimonos, etc

He eventually gave you a beautiful comb that was decorated with hydrangeas as a proposal

You grew to love him and you agreed to be his wife

After a few months of being his wife, he brought up the idea of sex and asked you when you might want to engage in such acts

He assured you that he would never force you into anything that you didn’t want to do

A few weeks after he first brought up the topic, you decided that you were interested and wanted to explore sex with him

You confessed that you were a virgin and had never done anything like this before, Kokushibo just smiled softly and reassured you that he would take care of you

That night, you both disrobed and laid together. Kokushibo let his hands explore your body, trailing his hands over your chest and sides

He leaned over and kissed you before moving down to kiss your neck as his hands played with your breast

You moaned when he kissed and sucked on a certain spot on your neck whilst he pinched your nipples

He slipped a hand down between your legs and began to play with your clit, swirling it around with his thumb and pinching it

His fingers rubbed at your enterance before one of them slid inside

He slowly began to scissor you and thrust his fingers in and out of you

You cried out as he began to suck on your nipples as his other hand groped and palmed at your breast

He then slowly kissed a trail down your body before sitting up and pulling out his fingers

He aligned himself with your entrance and slowly began to push in and sheath himself

Once he was fully sheathed inside you, he gave you plenty of time to adjust before starting a slow rhythm of thrusting

Every time he pulled out, his cock scraped against your walls deliciously

As he began to speed up, you gripped onto the sheets

He leaned over you and began to kiss you as he thrusted his hips in and out, pummeling your poor pussy

When your body tightened and clenched down on Kokushibo, he took a sharp breath in before slamming his hips into you, growling softly as he hit your g-spot

You screamed as he aimed for that spot relentlessly, hitting it every time with all his might

When you came on him he growled and bit your neck as he rode out his own orgasm, rolling his hips forward inside you as he came

When he pulled out, he helped you clean up before snuggling you and running his fingers through your hair telling you how much he loves you

[vivwritesfics]

Waiting For The Sun

Chapter One

Rhett Abbott has been hearing his soulmate in his head for ten years. She's the sweetest thing, nicknamed Muffin after her love of baking. Rhett doesn't know who Muffin is, doesn't know where she is, but hearing her voice always makes his day better. But then Trevor Tillerson is killed and Rhett's life is thrown into chaos. Through it all, Muffin in there for her soulmate. She wants nothing more than to find him, even through the chaos.

Soulmate AU Warnings: talks of religion

Series Masterlist

She’d been hearing the same voice in her head since she was fourteen years old. It had been jarring at first, hearing someone else's commentary from a rodeo she wasn't even attending. Whoever this person was had some really strong opinions about the bull riders they had been watching.

So jarring, in fact, that she went running to her mother, terrified. "Momma!" She cried as she ran down the stairs of the family farmhouse. "I'm hearin' voices!"

Her mother said nothing as she folded her newspaper and looked across the room, looked to her husband. Fourteen years old was too young to be hearing the voice of your soulmate, they both thought. But they couldn't have been much older when the writing first appeared on their own arms.

Her sister laughed. "That's your soulmate speaking to you, idiot," she said as she looked up from her book for just a moment. Normally, her mother would have scolded her for such language, but there were bigger fish to fry.

"My... what?" She asked, still standing on the bottom step of the stairs.

Her mother shuffled over, creating some space for her on the couch. She patted the space between herself and her eldest daughter, signalling for her youngest to come and sit between them. "Sweetie, it's time somebody told you about soulmates," she said gently.

As her youngest sat, she rolled up her sleeve, revealing the raised skin her of own soulmate mark. It used to be a tattoo, the first words her soulmate would ever say to her marked on her skin in black ink. The mark was supposed to remain there for the rest of her life, but tattoos were something she was against, something she and her husband saw as a sin. She had the tattoo removed, leaving raised skin as the only races of what was. "What did it say?" Her youngest daughter asked as she hesitantly lifted her fingers to trace over the raised skin.

She sucked in a breath and read out the passage from the bible that her husband had used to win her over. "'Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all'," she said and pulled her sleeve back down to cover up her past sins. "Those were the first words your father said to me, and that was how I knew he was my soulmate."

She looked across the room, at her husband. He was usually quiet, and this was no different. He said nothing as he watched them, so still his wife wondered if he was even listening.

"What has your soulmate said?" The eldest daughter asked. Her bookmark was in her book, which she placed down on the little round table beside the couch. "Has he at least said anything interesting?"

The youngest of the two shrugged her shoulders. "Nothin' too interestin' yet," she said and her mother gave her the side eye. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time pronouncing her G's. "I think he was at the rodeo," she mumbled and fiddled with her fingers. "Seemed to know a lot about bull ridin'."

Suddenly, her sister was sitting a little straighter. "A rodeo in Amelia County?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

Before the girls could continue with this conversation, their father cleared his throat, making his presence known. Well, his presence was always known in that house. "Time for bed, girls," he said in his usual gruff voice. "We've got church in the morning."

Both girls bowed their heads as they walked up the stairs and disappeared into their bedrooms.

***

That was ten years ago, the night her soulmate first spoke to her. She didn't speak back to him right away, didn't know how. As soon as her soulmate realised that someone else was there, trying to talk to him, he taught her how.

Neither of them had shut up since, it seemed.

Mornin', came the groggy voice of her soulmate.

The moment his voice filled her head, she couldn't help but smile. It had become a routine, waiting for him to wake up and then grinning when his voice filled her head. Morning, sleepyhead, she said, not looking up from her flowers. Are you aware that it's ten in the morning?

It is? Ah, shit.

Language, she scolded, but she knew he could hear her laugh. It was something he said every day, several times a day. Each time she scolded him, and each time he called her cute.

There was a break before he responded. She could see it in her mind, a faceless man rolling out of bed and pulling a shirt over his muscular chest. He'd place a Stetson on his head, a black on, pat his dog on the head, and go out to work on a ranch.

What is my Muffin doin' today? He asked as she used her trowel to dig a hole in her flower patch.

She looked up as her neighbour climbed out of his truck, where he'd undoubtedly slept. Rhett Abbott. There was a time, back when she was eighteen, that she thought Rhett was her soulmate. But those thoughts, that... hope, didn't last long. Not when she saw the way Rhett looked at Maria Olivares. There was no doubt in her mind that they, Rhett and Maria, were soulmates.

She didn't answer his question. What she was doing was boring and uninteresting. So, instead, she asked, Do you ever think about how it's been ten years and we haven't met yet? I mean, I don't even know if you're in-

But her soulmate didn't hear the rest of it, couldn't hear the rest of it. They'd figured out the rules quickly. they couldn't say names, places or any physical descriptions. Nothing that could aid them in finding each other. They'd meet when the universe was good and ready for it. That was God's plan, after all.

It wasn't the first time she'd said it to her soulmate. And, every time, he knew exactly what to say. Muffin, it's okay, he said to her. When we meet, I'll take you out for dinner. Breakfast for dinner, he promised.

She couldn't help but laugh. You always know just what to say, she said to him as she put her trowel down and pulled her gloves away from her fingers (it was so hot in Wyoming, she couldn't stand to wear her gardening gloves for very long. Not unless she wanted her hands to be all sweaty and pruney).

Go on, Muffin. Tell me what you're up to, he said, his voice sounding like a mumble in her head.

She held up the sunflower she had been growing for the last few weeks. Do you remember the sunflower growing competition I'm holding with the youth group? She asked and he let out a hum. Well, I'm planting my sunflower in my garden.

Holy fuck, he immediately said. You're so damn cute.

Language! But, again, she was laughing. But then the laughter stopped. Oh shoot! I got soil on my dress and now it's all dirty, she grumbled as she stood and brushed the dirty away from the blue skirt of her dress.

He let out another hum. Bet you still look great, he said in her mind.

It had been ten years. Ten year of them knowing each other without ever meeting. They'd learnt everything there was to know about each other, without knowing who the other was. And he knew exactly how to push her buttons, but in the best way. He knew exactly how to get her giggling like a school girl, not like the twenty four year old woman she was.

They talked through the morning, as they did every morning. When his employer had him counting cattle, she helped to keep track of the numbers. But then she was heading inside, grabbing the grocery list her mother had stuck on the fridge, grabbing her keys, and heading out.

You should get those cosmic brownie things you like, he said as she started her car.

It took a moment of turning the key before the engine came to life. Not on the list, she said as she began driving away from her family's property. You know how my mother gets.

I know, Muffin, he replied as she drove up the rode, drove past the Abbott Ranch. And there was Rhett Abbott, riding on his usual black horse. She gave him the polite smile and he tipped his hat, a sign of two acquaintances that barely knew each other.

As soon as Rhett had ridden off, her soulmate was back in her head. But you deserve a treat!

She let out a hum of her own, a habit she had picked up from him. I'm gonna make muffins for bible study later, she said as she drove into town.

Flavour? He asked as she pulled up outside of The Handsome Gambler. She'd never stepped a foot inside, might have been one of the only people in Wabang that hadn't .

A smile played on her lips as she walked into the store, reusable bag stuffed into the tote bag on her shoulder. Walking around the store, she had never felt so naked. All because of some damned stain left by soil. Muffin? You still there? He asked.

Shit, sorry.

That's my girl.

There was no point in trying to hide her smile. Blueberry, he said, answering his question from earlier.

Having her soulmate in her head while she was grocery shopping wasn't easy, not in the slightest. He threw out suggestions that had her damn near reaching for the stuff. Stuff that wasn't on her mothers list, stuff that would have had her mother angry.

Twenty Four year old and still scared of her parents. It was pathetic.

Not pathetic, Muffin. I don't wanna be hearin' that shit.

She couldn't help but apologise, even if he wouldn't hear it. How many times had he said 'my Muffin don't apologise for nothin'' over the years? When she wandered over to the checkout, he was quiet, let her count the cash in her purse. And then, as she loaded the groceries into the car, he was humming. It was a song she didn't recognise from the tune alone. But it was sweet and it was comforting.

It was him.

If you enjoyed this, please feel free to buy me a coffee

Rhett Abbott Taglist (OPEN): @writtingrose

WFTS Taglist (OPEN): @finnydraws (you don't get a choice)

@nurse-sainz (you don't get a choice)

[vagabond-umlaut]

cauterize; cicatrize

Wounds left by love are funny little things. Sometimes, they close by themselves. Sometimes, they close when singed by rejection. Other times, they heal when you scar once again, falling in love once again.

▸ ryomen sukuna x fem!reader; reincarnation au; sukuna has been reawakened in the modern era but he does not have any vessel; reader was sukuna's wife in her previous life; FLUFF, ANGST & HUMOR; grumpy!sukuna; flirty!reader; SO MUCH OF PINING & UNRESOLVED TENSION BETWEEN THESE TWO, I SWEAR!!!; brief mentions of food

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna! [note: each and every character is 18+ in this story :)]

▸ based on the ask sent by @yuujispinkhair for my milestone event. TYSM WINTER!! 🫶🫶🫶 i don't own the characters, image or divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"It's so difficult to know when the gentle flame of love becomes the harsh flame of ruin– isn't it, baby?"

Furious eyes gleam back in the shitty ceiling lights of the restaurant, the very second the waitress who served you the food earlier, lifts an eyebrow in obvious interest before looking away when you shoot her a mirror image of her expression– A very irked call of your name pulls your gaze back to your husband—

No! No! No!!

Ex-husband.

Married to you, over one thousand years back.

No longer is he your terrifying darling husband.

Sukuna stabs his food with a tad too much force than what's needed, growling, "I may not be who I was before, but, don't forget your place, calling me whatever you want, you pathetic—"

"Did I ever tell you how much of a snack you look with your two arms, baby?" you cut him off, carving a small piece of the fish and placing it in your mouth. Your eyes shut momentarily from the rich taste before opening wide again, only to find confusion etched onto your husband companion's face. You continue, ""Cause you really do look so— very, very much similar to how you were in the Heian Era. A damn delicious snack. Or, a scrumptious five course meal— depending on how much you want to indulge silly me, I guess."

Silence greets your comment— the first time in the two hours it took you to convince Sukuna, then drive him to this Thai restaurant– good heavens above, his grumbling's still The Same even after he has been reawakened a millenium later– only to be broken by a too hushed ask within the next moment.

"And what do you think of my two eyes? Are they still as lovely as my four eyes were to you?"

Fondness tugs at your heartstrings, making you want to lean over the table and claim his lips in the neediest kiss ever seen in history— your brain quickly shoves such wishes away, making you return him a fond smile instead. And murmur, "Of course, they are...— Your two big eyes and the two not-really-eyes beneath them... As lovely as red rubies."

Sukuna's look shifts into one of joy, if only for a moment, before being back to scowling once more, the same way you return to your cheeky grin as you inquire, "And what do you think, hm, of the food here? It's just the best– ain't it? Yuuji, Nobara and I discovered this hidden gem on our last mission— and when I tasted the green curry they made– I realized I absolutely had to bring you here, by hook or by crook."

"And which one was it? By hook or by crook?" the curse questions, an extremely rare smirk peeking from the corners of his frown; you don't really grasp how much you missed this sight until now– especially, in the present days, when the only emotion your past lover [and forever beloved] shows you is frustration paired with weary distaste—

You shovel some rice into your mouth to stop the far too familiar train of thoughts– you know where it'll be ending; you know it won't be. An agonizingly slow minute passes, wherein you chew the food so slowly then swallow it down, then stare at your empty bowl of rice for a nice ten seconds before mustering a chuckle.

"Of course, by crook," you reply, ignoring the way Sukuna's gaze roves over your face, then your body dressed in your oldest pair of pajamas; staring not in lust, but with something eerily similar to worry, "No one would've ever allowed me to take you out in their right minds. It's way too risky is what it is. They might even execute me if they find us out."

A beat passes in quiet with you feeling the weight of your words and the implications your actions will bear, slowly sinking into the two of you— before the hush is broken yet again. By your companion again.

Though not with a muted question, but with noisy cackles– the most melodious music you've heard in a duration far too long to your liking.

Sukuna grins, pearly white teeth with those sharp canines on display. Barking a guffaw, he asks, "You're one weak fool, letting love ruin you – aren't you, pet?"

You outstretch a hand over to the other side, dainty fingers brushing away the few grains of rice stuck to his face, then smile– mind going back to the innumerable bloodbaths, the figure before you drenched the country in— them growing in intensity after the winter, you know was your last as the Queen of Curses– given, the dates written in the scrolls on his conquests are accurate... Somehow, you know they are—

Your smile widens, digging pleasantly painful indents in your cheeks, as you retract your hand, shrugging at the stock-still image of shock across.

"What can I say, baby? Learnt to do so, from my king himself."

▸ masterlist

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart (Chapter 5) Human!Alastor x Reader)

Banner Alastors done by @blobin456drawz, Banner done by @redvexillum<3 Rated Adult Chapter Trigger Warnings: Alastor is a little shit.

AN: Reminder- Double update this week, See you Friday. Updates will now be every Friday!

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

Now with Audio by Nyx Productions, read by the lovely @nyx-umbrakinesis. Want to revisit the land of Misdemeanor but don't have time to sit and read? Maybe it's your first visit and you want the whole experience? Let Nyx read you a story: Part 1, Part 2

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“It’s just up here,” Laurence said, glancing over his shoulder to find his dinner guest lagging behind. He needed this loan and yet dinner wasn’t wasn’t off to a great start if he couldn’t at least keep the man’s attention long enough to get to his office. He just needed you to not fuck up somehow when bringing ice up or finishing dinner. 

“A lovely wife you have, Laurence. It’s a shame for her to be married to a man so eager to offer her as collateral,” Alastor said, as the stairs creaked with each step he took. 

“Nothing but a jest, Mr. Moreau.” 

“Of course,” Alastor said, doing nothing to cover the fact that he didn’t believe Laurence had said it in jest for a minute. 

“We’ll let her finish up fixing dinner while we-”

“See to business. Yes, yes, that’s fine.” 

Laurence shut the office door as Alastor stepped inside, sealing them off from the wonderful aroma of fresh bread that permeated the lower level of the home. What a shame, Alastor thought.

You had invited Alastor to make himself at home when he came into the house, so he did just that. Rather than sit in one of the overstuffed chairs across from Laurence’s desk, Alastor walked around the small office, eyes taking in little details as they ran over trinkets and notes.

“Is Emma a pet name for your darling wife? Such an illogical choice.” Alastor turns from the calendar, eyes running over the desk.

Laurence laughed nervously. It was clear to Alastor that he didn’t enjoy having someone he couldn’t control in his space. “Oh well, you know how men are.”

“And how is that?” Alastor asked, cataloguing every bit of information he could about who Laurence was and what kind of man he really was. 

Laurence gaped, fishing for the correct answer in his small brain. Alastor wasn’t playing by the typical male script he was used to dealing with. Dreadfully dull, Alastor thought. He couldn’t come up with a slight excuse to cover his affair? Men’s desire to run around on their partners never made sense to him. 

“Was there a reason we must abandon the hostess?” Alastor finally settled into a chair, leaning back and crossing his legs. This may be Laurence’s home ground but Alastor made it clear who really had the power at the moment.

“This is men’s business…” Laurence tailed off at the soft tap tap at the door. 

You did not enter this space, Alastor filed that away as well. He turned, watching you as you passed Laurence the tray with ice-filled glasses, hands trembling.

Were you terrified of your husband? Or was it pain? Perhaps illness? No, not illness. You flinched too much for it to be something as simple as poor health. Plus, there were the marks on your wrist. Did you think you were clever with the bracelets and the sleeves? 

“It’ll be just a few moments while I draft up the contract,” Laurence makes a show of pulling out a large typewriter case from the shelf to the left of his desk. It was clearly expensive, just as many other items in this insufferable office. 

Alastor finished his glass of whiskey in one quick drink before setting the glass down directly on the solid wood desk. When Laurance frowned at the glass set exactly two inches to the left of the coaster he had ever so blatantly requested Alastor use to protect the desk surface, Alastor simply smiles back at him. 

“While you set to that task, please do excuse me.”

“Is something the matter?” Laurence stood slowly. 

“Not at all! I’m simply off to the washroom.” 

Alastor let out the breath he felt like he had been holding forever as the door clicked shut behind him. The washroom was lit by gas, Alastor noticed, not electricity like the office and living room had been. 

Why would the Latimer household only update part of the house when adding electricity? Looking around the washroom, he saw new pipes. The home was plumbed. Upgrades had been started but stopped. Why? 

Humming as he went, Alastor continued exploring the small room. Everything was bright white, and he hated it all. The warm wood tones of the rest of the house were far better suited to his own taste.

Spotting the small glass vial on the sink, Alastor picked it up and opened it. The smell made him cringe. Medicinal and strong. Laudanum, if he had to guess though, the label was ripped from the bottle in places. Who did it belong to and who were they hiding the contents of the bottle from?

Alastor had taken it before and never been a fan of how it had made his head feel. 

Sure, he had a bottle on hand in his own medicine cabinet but his was covered in dust and nearly new. This vial was clean, fresh and nearly half empty. Who took it? Was it you or Laurence that took it often enough for the vial to be fresh? 

Stepping out of the washroom, Alastor looked first at the closed office door. The click click click of the typewriter behind the door gave away how slow of a typist Laurence was. At the rate he was going, Alastor could type the contract four times over before Laurence would finish the first copy. 

Hell, he could draft it by hand faster than the keystrokes were coming from beside the door.

Instead of rejoining Laurence in the office, Alastor kept walking down the hall. He was mindful of each step as he descended the stairs, avoiding those he had noticed squeaked under weight. 

Laurence was eager to offer his wife as collateral, but clearly didn’t enjoy it when Alastor paid her any attention. Though Alastor shot down the offer at Mimzy’s, it surprised him that Laurence didn’t offer those same terms again. Instead, it was his car Laurence was drafting the contract for. 

Alastor had no trouble finding the kitchen. He moved through the house silently, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you work. Your back was to him, allowing him the freedom to watch you without reservation. 

If Mimzy was here, she would tell him how he could have this, whatever this was. He wasn’t so sure that it was something he ever wanted. He knew it was something he could have, and he likewise knew it was something he didn’t need. But did he want the domestic life?

It hadn’t worked out so well for his mother. If people were talking about him, though, that wasn’t in his favor. Could he trust a meek little woman in his space, keep her happy and entertained enough that she wouldn’t run around town being a gossip? Would he be able to find someone who would look the other way and believe it was animal blood that stained his clothes?

As he watched you in his thoughts, you worked the loaf of bread out of the pan. Thinking you were alone, you held your injured shoulder stiffly, using your body to brace it as you moved. When you shifted it wrong, you gasped softly in pain, muttering softly under your breath a reminder that the meal needed to be perfect. 

You dropped the loaf into the bread slicer contraption, then braced the end of the box against your apron covered front and slowly sliced through the loaf again and again until the loaf was leaning forward, sliced into neat sheets of bread sitting in a sea of crumbs. The rich smell of beef gravy was thick in the kitchen, hearty and welcoming. 

You were humming to yourself as you worked. It was a pleasant sound that Alastor found he enjoyed. As you turned to put the sliced bread into the basket, he stepped back out of what would be your line of sight. From where he stood, he could see you as you stepped up to the oven, but you were unlikely to see him. 

He watched as you rubbed your wrist, pushing the bracelets up and running your hand over the dark bruise. Though his eyes were not the best, Alastor could see the clear definition marking where fingers had wrapped around your wrist with more force than was ever justifiable. 

Why did you stay? Did you like being thrown around? He doubted it. You hardly looked like you loved your husband. It was clear as day that you were uncomfortable with him every time his hands touched you. The farce was better executed in public than he had seen in your home, but he saw nothing that told him you held anything close to affection for the man you were married to.

Carefully, you reached out with the towel draped over both hands and grabbed the handles of the kettle. Hesitation had you standing in that position as heat seeped into the fabric for longer than Alastor expected. Surely your hands were getting close to burning.

Then you lifted. The kettle didn’t make it any more than an inch off the iron burners before clattering back down as you cried out softly. Alastor watched as your shoulders sagged and you sniffled. 

You wouldn’t be able to lift the kettle. You wouldn’t be able to pull the meat out of it and put it in the serving dish. Dinner would be ruined, and you were convinced it would be your fault. 

“Allow me,” Alastor’s voice came from the doorway, startling you. 

“Oh, no- It’s fine.” You looked around for Laurence. The last thing you needed was for him to see you inconveniencing his guest. 

“He’s in his office, drafting the contract at the pace of a schoolboy,” Alastor’s long strides took him into your kitchen and to your side before you had a chance to protest more. “You’re clearly struggling to lift it.” 

He took the towel from you as if the kitchen was his. It looked easy as he lifted the kettle from the stove, as if it weighed nothing. You watched dumbly as he looked around to find where you had the trivets set up. The sound of the kettle setting down on the counter snapped you out of the daze. 

“Can I help you with anything, Mr. Moreau?” you ask, trying to remind him of propriety as he scooped the pot roast from the kettle and set the crumbling hunk of meat into the serving dish for you. 

“Alastor,” his eyes flick up to you for a moment before returning to his self-assigned task. “I simply needed a moment of more agreeable company. I find your husband rather dull. however do you put up with him?”

You were not sure what you could say to such a confession. It was improper to speak to a woman about her husband in such a manner. It was improper to be alone together, doing something as intimate as household tasks together. 

Arguing with the guest was improper, but it was also not something you could agree with while remaining proper. You were not even sure if you agreed with it. Laurence was a part of your life. It wasn’t optional, so you had never thought about it. 

Instead of thinking about it, you needed to set the table in the dining room. The dishes were in an overhead cabinet. Reaching up, you opened it easily enough. Plucking up the shallow bowls was something you expected to be doing in private. 

Your shoulder ached, you needed to take a few more pain pills and lift the delicate bowls one at a time to ensure you didn’t drop them. With him there, you couldn’t do that though. It would look suspiciously like you were avoiding using your arm. 

You’d already given away too much with the kettle. 

You tried to keep a smile on your face as you reached up with both hands. Finger tips trembled in front of your eyes. No matter how hard you tried to stop them from doing so, they continued to tremble. 

Grab the dishes in one neat stack. Put them on the counter. Do not drop them. Rest a moment. Carry them to the dining room. How hard could that be? You could do it. You needed to do it. You had to do it.

“Let me get it for you,” Alastor’s voice was soft and low in your ear. 

You hadn’t heard him move, but when you jerked back from him only to have your hip strike his arm. Without you noticing, he had come up behind you and caged you in, resting his palm against the counter on your other side. 

He reached up with his other hand, leaning forward as he picked up a stack of three dishes. Your breath froze in your lungs as his chest brushed against your good shoulder and back. For a moment, you told yourself that he didn’t know. He was just being helpful until he leaned more into you. 

You gaped up at him. Too close. You had never been so close to a man you were not related to outside of Laurence. Sure, you’d bumped into men and let Alastor provide you support as you got up off the floor at the butcher, but this was different. 

It was a second really, long enough for you to register the warmth of him. He leaned forward a bit more, smirking down at you as his chest and side pressed firmer against you. 

Torso to torso, you couldn’t feel any of the give that Laurence’s body had but before you could even form a thought about what that meant for Alastor’s body, he stepped back and held the fragile china in his large hands. 

“There you are.” Your heart dropped at the sound of Laurence’s voice. Had he seen? You did nothing wrong, but women rarely escaped the blame when it came to impropriety. 

“I couldn’t help but be drawn in by the lovely aromas of your wife’s cooking.” Alastor laughed, bowls in hand as he carried them to the dining room.

Tag list: @xalygatorx, @catticora, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty, @rainydaysmut,  @nyx91, @kaylopolis, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @goyablogsstuff, @honestlyshamelesskid,  @lilith-jae, @yui-onnero, @charlottemorningstarsdarling, @diffidentphantom, @lunarmango  @uhhhimbored   @loveameripanshipperlove, @redvexillum

Tag list open Next?Masterlist

[konigsblog]

short random 141 headcannons, silly/fluff ☄️

ghost 💀;

absolutely hates coffee, avid tea drinker and refuses anything else. a lot of people assume that the cold-hearted killer, simon riley, would hate sugary coffee. but, truth be told, he has a huge sweet tooth that only price knows about, and has to keep him from eating too much.

growing up, he was quiet. a lot of people teased him for being so silent, including his friends, but only in a joking way. he's one of those kids that make friend's easily, just well-behaved in class to avoid stressing out his mother.

acts as if he hates johnny, but after that solo mission soap had, he grew more close to him. didn't like whenever john had to go on a mission without him in fear that he wouldn't return, gradually developed a fear of losing the team - something he'd always had, yet increased further after graves's betrayal.

has a high metabolism. he could eat way over his maintenance calories and not gain anything. he works out in his house during leave, usually eating quick takeaways or frozen meals, rolling his eyes whenever you bring up the state of the apartment. who cares, its not as if he's here most of the time.

soap 🧼;

absolutely loves getting drunk at a club with the team, has to be dragged home by price, him and gaz laughing maniacally at absolutely nothing.

he threw up on ghost afterwards.

because if his flirtatious personality, he's had many girlfriends. they never last long since he doesn't take the relationship's seriousness, still flirting with others as a joke, but offending whoever he's with at the time.

he isn't serious at all, which we've probably gathered from his personality. accidentally laughs at the wrong times, apologise profusely as they snarl at him. definitely gives off the wrong impression and gets embarrassed whenever price mentions it.

johnny knows what he's good at, he doesn't like being insulted by anyone, even as a joke. mention something about him not being as strong as ghost as he's pissed for the rest of the day. somewhat easily jealous, stemmed from when he was a rookie, lean with barely any muscle and constantly teased by others. (heard the last bit from another creator, but i can't remember the user for the life of me.)

gaz 🧢;

doesn't take alcohol very well, especially his hangovers. they're cruel, he has a pounding headache all day and throws up multiple times. laid in bed playing games the entire day, groaning as he feels himself burn up.

is terrified of bugs, absolutely hates spiders. doesn't give a fuck about the spider poem, will scream and crush them with his foot. probably came from when he was a child and got caught in a spiders web, cried to his mum.

definitely has a lot of sisters. they raised him well so he's very respectful in relationships and knows how to treat a lady right. when he was younger, his sister's would beg him to let them use makeup on him, agreeing and getting annoyed when he couldn't wash it off.

definitely youngest child energy.

price 🎣;

when he was a kid, he wanted to be something like a policeman or a firefighter, loves being in charge of stuff.

he's a true gentleman; will hold the door for his wife, giving her a bouquet of flowers whenever he can, kisses her all the time and compliments galore. he's a true fan of cuddling you from behind, sneaking up on you and kissing your neck, complimenting the meal you'd made.

took the 141 fishing, let's just say that it never happened again. it was all peaceful until johnny thought he a turtle, leaning over the lake and falling in. kyle laughed his ass off and simon sighed with disapproval, yet not surprised that he'd managed something like that. price lost a good fish trying to save him from drowning.

loves dogs, not small dogs (chihuahua hater), but big dogs. he loves german shepherds since he works with them, k9s. or a doberman, definitely owned a big dog when he was younger and has baby photos of him on it's back, only laswell saw them.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your vampire husband commits a sin

General Plot: Oh dear, this got quite dark...Your new vampire husband's mother visits

Word Count: 4K

Vampire (Levi) x single mother reader

A/N: this got way darker than I anticipated, so I want to come back to Levi with some lighter stuff in the future, but the story kind of compelled me

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

W: angst, angst, angst...murder...this is so much darker than a lot of other things I've written so be warned...darling becomes yandere a little?

You buried your face in your hands, watching Levi dance around his unnecessarily fancy living room with your baby in his arms. He adored Meryl and since a week ago when he’d declared you were his wife and took you both in, he spent as much time with either you or her in his arms as possible. You were quite a bit more flighty, while Meryl was a willing participant, so more often than not she ended up being toted around. 

You didn’t entirely trust Levi, but what you did believe with all your heart, because it was written all over his face was that he loved Meryl and would never let any harm come to her. So you accepted the help. Levi had maids to help you with diapers and food. He’d even hired a nanny, though you were still wary of leaving Meryl alone with her. Not that she didn’t come with the best recommendations, this was just all very new and stressful. It soothed you a bit to keep Meryl close by. 

“We don’t need to invite 600 people to an adoption party!” you insisted. 

He had already legally adopted Meryl, just like he legally married you. 

He turned to you, his clan Lord taking over. 

“My clan needs to recognize my daughter and wife. I know it seems frivolous now, but it is imperative to your safety. You are not meat to be eaten or a token to be traded and a proper show will establish that you are above them,” he explained sharply, “there will be many parties, so you will have to adjust.” 

You pressed your hands together and looked at him over your fingers. 

“I’m very certain it is illegal for vampires to eat people without consent at all,” you reminded him. 

He laughed as if you’d made a joke and turned his attention back to Meryl who was tugging at his hair so he would throw her. She liked when he tossed her gently and then caught her again. Suddenly he sniffed the air and frowned, handing Meryl abruptly back to you and sliding the chair you were in across the room as if the two of you weighed nothing. 

There was a knock at the door. 

“Enter.” 

One of the many vampire minions Levi had walking around, this one named Eleanor, was standing at the door. At first you’d been a little instinctively jealous of the pretty vampires. It, of course, had been a little shameful. You were studiously resisting Levi’s advances, you shouldn’t be feeling anything at all, but it soon became very clear there was nothing to even be concerned with. All of his underlings were thoroughly terrified of him, he was not boyfriend material. 

With you and Meryl he was gentle, affable, and kind, but since you’d been there you’d covered Meryl’s face twice while he’d dismembered two of them for failing to follow his orders to the letter. Suffice to say, you weren’t exactly sold on his protection, though you couldn't think of a way out of it. It wasn’t as simple as running away from him, you had Meryl to think of too. You couldn’t drag her through chaos to escape him. If he was promising to provide her with a stable life and not hurt either of you, you couldn’t afford to sneeze at him. 

He’d tried to explain to you that he lived in a different world than you did. Vampires weren’t humans, they were monsters. To rule them he had to maintain absolute authority, which called for ruthlessness and displays of power. You’d simply nodded, accepting his answer for what it was. In a fish bowl full of sharks, you wanted the biggest one on your side. 

“Darrrrrlinnnng!” a lovely vampire cooed as she floated through the door wearing a rather sexy, slinky black dress.

She looked strangely familiar with long, long black hair and your eyebrows raised as she threw herself around Levi. He growled at her and pushed her away. 

“Mother, please,” he grumbled, “why are you here?” 

She pouted. 

“Can’t a mother visit her son?” she asked, “especially now! I was told you got married and now you have a baby. You weren’t going to tell your own mother?” 

He narrowed his eyes at her. 

“You’ve been banished for hundreds of years, what makes you think you can just come breezing in here…?” 

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence as she noticed the two of you. She grinned and skipped over to you. 

“How lovely! She’s just beautiful. She’ll make a pretty vampire,” she said, tipping up your chin with her red nail tipped finger. Her eyes dropped to Meryl and they narrowed. 

“You’ll be having your own children, won't you?” she asked, suddenly turning and looking back at her son. 

He looked extremely annoyed. 

“It’s much too early to have that sort of discussion,” he said diplomatically, glancing at you, “and Meryl is my child.” 

She frowned. 

“But she’s not, is she?” she said, seeming put out and wrinkling her nose at Meryl. 

For her part, Meryl’s eyes filled with tears and she started crying. 

“Sh, sh,” you cooed, pulling her to her chest and she quieted to soft sobs as you rubbed her back. 

“Vampire babies are much less fussy,” she pointed out. 

Levi growled and crossed the room. 

“Why are you here?” he gritted out tightly. 

She smiled up at him, batting her eyelashes. 

“I wanted to be around to see my grandchildren grow up,” she said, taking a step behind you and stroking your head, “and since I know all about the situation with the baby’s father, I knew you wouldn’t turn me away. You need help don’t you? Raising a baby is hard for a new mother. You need your family.” 

Levi actually looked a little taken off kilter for a second and frowned. You looked up to him and cocked your head to the side, confused as to what your ex-fiance had to do with anything. 

He quickly schooled his features and took his mother’s shoulders, pulling her away from you. 

“Of course, it’s natural for a grandmother to want to see her grandchildren,” he said, a stiff smile forming on his face, “let me have Eleanor prepare you a suite so you’ll be comfortable.” 

When he’d shuffled her from the room you looked at Levi for an explanation. When he walked back in he didn’t look at you immediately, instead drifting over and picking up Meryl. He cradled her to his cheek, whispering something to her while he patted her back and carried her to the window to look out. He seemed somewhere between paralyzingly angry and endlessly sad. 

You slowly got up and walked across the room, placing a hand on the small of his back. His head jerked down to you and he looked surprised. 

“You okay?” you asked softly. 

He leaned his back against the window and nodded wanly, brushing his fingers through Meryl’s wisps of baby hair. 

“My mother murdered my father,” he said evenly and you gasped. 

His eyes flicked to you. 

“It’s not that uncommon in my world,” he said, “even married couples often don’t trust one another, but I was very close with my father. Of course, she’s my mother, how could I execute her? I’m a vampire, but even some things- So…I banished her…” 

You brushed a hand against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Levi,” you said, “that’s horrific…I wish there was something I could say...but… Why are you letting her stay here?” 

He looked somewhere over your shoulder before giving you a small smirk. 

“I suppose love is really the only answer,” he said and you nodded at the slightly enigmatic statement. 

It was sort of bittersweet that he still cared for his mother even after what she did. You were still a bit worried. 

“Is she dangerous?” you asked. 

He looked at you with the weight of a mountain on his shoulders. 

“Yes. Don’t ever find yourself alone with her, do you understand?” he asked, “don’t ever leave Meryl alone with her.” 

You nodded, trembling a little. This new world you’d been thrust into was frightening.  

He looked at you for a long time, then his face shifted to something you couldn’t read. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, handing Meryl back to you and cupping your cheek. He planted a kiss on your forehead and looked into your eyes. 

“I’m scaring you,” he went on, “you shouldn’t be terrified in your own home. I’ll sort this out.” 

You didn’t really know what that meant either so you just nodded slowly, pulling Meryl closer to you. 

–

“Peekaboo!” you giggled at Meryl, popping your face from between your hands while you sat on a blanket in Levi’s garden. He lived in an expansive mansion just outside of the city on a hill. The house was contemporary and the garden had a green lawn with more modern sculptures than flowers. 

A stiff, female vampire guard stood off to the side in the shadows watching for threats. Levi didn’t allow male staff near you and though he had them, he preferred to meet with them where you weren’t. 

Meryl was giggling at you and you hardly noticed your guard stiffen and disappear into the garden, going after some unknown threat. When you looked up again Levi’s mother was approaching you across the lawn, dressed in a rather garish pink suit and high heels that were sinking into the grass. 

“Oh there you are darling!” she beamed at you, flashing her fangs and adjusting the large round sunglasses on her face, “Levi has been doing too good of a job hiding you from me!” 

She held a matching pink umbrella aloft. Vampires could tolerate the sun, but they didn’t like it. 

You instinctively scooped Meryl into your arms and held her to your chest as you started to get up. Glancing around, you frowned, finding your guard was missing. 

“I should really be heading inside, Ms. Prishdarov,” you mumbled, trying to gather Meryl’s baby things. 

“No, no, darling!” she purred, pushing you firmly back down with strength you would not expect from a thin woman, her sharp nails pricking your shoulder, “I insist. Let’s enjoy the sunshine and chat a bit. I never even got to introduce myself before my son hurried me off. I’m Karen, but you should call me mom!” 

You gave her a wan smile, pulling Meryl to your opposite side as she arranged herself on your blanket. 

“(Y/N),” you said, trying to be polite. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were sure Karen could tell you were terrified of her, though she simply looked you over with a cool smile on her pink lips. 

“My son really does know how to pick ‘em,” she said, her fingers trailing over the curve of your chin, “you really are lovely, a pity you were already with child.” 

You frowned at her. 

“Levi loves Meryl. He considers her his own,” you said defensively, turning to your daughter and handing her a brightly colored plastic toy shaped like a giraffe, hoping she didn’t understand Karen’s words. 

“My son is soft,” she said icily, “in my time a man would simply get rid of the bastard child and have a proper one.” 

You narrowed your eyes at what she was proposing. 

“That’s incredibly savage,” you gasped, holding Meryl closer to you, “and Meryl is not a bastard. My fiance abandoned us.” 

She snorted. 

“Did he?” she asked, looking you over, “you must have very low self esteem to believe a man would simply dump a woman as pretty as you.” 

You shook your head at her, drawing your brow. 

“You’re not making any sense,” you spat, annoyed, “he had a sickness and stole everything from his own child.” 

She laughed out loud. 

“Okay dear,” she said, “I didn’t mean to upset you. Of course he did and Levi was there just in time to step in, wasn’t he?” 

You glared at her. 

“What are you trying to get at?” you asked, confused, “my ex is probably gambling Meryl’s college fund away with some call girl as we speak. I didn’t expect to be taken in by vampires, but Levi has been very kind to us.” 

You and your fiance had gone through a lot to get him treatment for his gambling addiction. It made you sad that he’d thrown your future together away and you knew he had a sickness, but things had progressed far beyond anything you could do to help him. You had to protect Meryl and if he chose to abandon the two of you, then he might as well have been dead. Perhaps your own hurt at the painful rejection and betrayal was tainting your thoughts, but you were human and it couldn’t be helped. 

She smiled at you and brushed her thumb over your cheek. 

“You’re just perfect aren’t you?” she laughed, “well your ex isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about. I was hoping we could be allies. As I said, my son is soft, he needs my help, but due to some unfortunate circumstances he just won’t listen to me…” 

“You murdered his father,” you said blandly, getting right to the point. 

You didn’t like Ms. Prishdarov and your patience was wearing thin. She laughed. 

“Darling, you have no concept of the nuance of being a clan Queen,” she said as if she were talking to a child, “but you will. I don’t need to explain my actions and I’m not ashamed of them. Like I said…my son is soft.” 

She looked at you. 

“But you…you need strong allies,” she said, “and I can be on your side.” 

“What do you want?” you asked. 

“I simply want you to be the little bird in Levi’s ear…any advice I give is only in your best interest and-” 

“Get away from her!” Levi’s deep voice snarled as he approached rapidly across the lawn. He passed his mother and snatched you up by the shoulder, his cold hands digging into your arm. 

“What did I tell you?” he snapped at you, dragging you and Meryl inside. 

“But our-” you started to say, but the look he gave you was ferocious, his red eyes glinting like a stop light. He hadn’t actually wanted an answer. 

When you were inside, he pushed you against the wall. 

“I told you never to be alone with her!” he boomed down at you, his face a frightening, animal version of itself. Meryl sobbed in your arms and you quickly looked down to soothe her. 

When you glanced back up, Levi was rubbing his eyes and pacing. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking back at you, his eyes widening when you flinched as he put his hand on your arm. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Please forgive me…it’s just…you don’t know what kind of woman my mother is. Where was Veronica?” he asked. 

You shook your head.

“How should I know!? She disappeared! Do you think I really want to be alone with that woman?! She keeps talking about Meryl like she’s some kind of rotten fruit that I should just abandon!” 

You bounced a crying Meryl on your shoulder, cuddling her cheek and he sank against the opposite wall in the hallway.

“Let me have her,” he said, holding his arms out to you. 

Hesitating for a second, you finally handed her over and he cooed at her.

“I’m so sorry baby bat,” he said gently kissing her forehead, “I should have never raised my voice at you or your mother.” 

Her tears slowed at her favorite person’s gentle attention, soothing away the fear. 

“She needs to go, Levi,” you growled. 

You didn’t feel comfortable demanding much from him and there wasn’t much that he didn’t provide, but as a mother…this you could not tolerate. 

His eyes flickered up to you in surprise and a deadly look settled over his face. You thought he would deny you or chide you for pushing his mother away, but he was only silent and stone serious. Giving you a firm nod, he turned his attention back to Meryl, letting her chew on his finger and play with the hair falling over his shoulder. 

–

You woke to screaming and the breaking of glass. Your eyes flew around the room to Meryl’s bed, where she was just pushing herself up. Hurrying over to her, you pulled her in your arms and hurried to the corner of the room, listening. 

You heard Karen’s howling laughter. 

“You’re weak!” she snarled, then you heard some glass breaking, “you’ll never do it! You’re too soft. That woman has only made you weaker. If you think this little tantrum means anything, you’re a fool!” 

There was only the sound of heavy feet crunching on glass. 

“You’re right, mother. I was soft, but I let you leave with your life and you returned to blackmail me!” he boomed, “you are the fool!” 

You heard wood splintering and thuds as if heavy things were hitting the floor. 

“You can’t! You won’t!” she screamed, but this time it wasn’t so confident. 

Then there was a squelch and silence. 

You heard dragging feet and then the door opened. Looking up, you saw Levi standing in the frame staring at his bloody hands. 

“What have I done?” he gasped, his eyes full of horror. 

Your heart dropped in your chest and you hurriedly put Meryl down in her crib before crossing the room to him and taking his bloody hands, pulling them to your face. 

You were surprised? Yes. Horrified? Yes…but Levi had done this for you, because you asked him to. This wasn’t at all what you meant, but hell if you were going to tell him that now. 

“You did this for us Levi,” you told him, looking into his red eyes, dark and dim. They were glazed, replaying the vision of his mother dying at his hand over and over in his head. 

You tipped up on your toes and pulled his face down to you. 

“Look at me Levi,” you said, “focus on me. You did the right thing. You did. You did this for us. For your family.” 

His pupils focused on you, desperate for something to hold onto, so you tipped your mouth up and pressed it against his. His lips were cool and at first they were stiff and unmoving. Then they softened just slightly and you pulled him closer. You gave him the softest most loving kiss you'd given anyone.

When you pulled away his eyes were sharper, the blood red color returning. You pulled his bloody hands back to your face and kissed them, ignoring the sanguine mess. 

“Come with me, Levi,” you murmured, pulling him behind you to the bathroom, “let me help you.” 

You ignored the shocking vision of blood on your lips in the mirror as you turned on the bathroom light and sat him down on the toilet. Not letting him look at his hands, you pulled his face up to you, giving him the smallest smile. 

“You’re safe, everything is going to be okay,” you hummed, “I’m here and I’m never going to leave you.” 

His eyes got wide. 

“Promise?” he asked and you could see he was broken. He needed this. What was done was done. You couldn’t go back. 

“I swear to you Levi, you did this thing for me. I’ll never betray you,” you swore. 

Pulling towels off of the shelf you started the bath, while you cleaned the blood from his hands, humming to him like you did Meryl when you put her to sleep. 

“Hey, eyes on me,” you whispered, when they drifted down to his fingers while you scrubbed the blood from under the nails. 

Levi had never been so happy to settle his gaze on you in his life. It was a lovely vision, his goddess with a streak of blood on her lips a hint at her future. He thought he’d never be able to forget his own mother’s eyes going dim as he severed her head from her neck, but while he looked at you, your soft smile. The same soft smile that soothed his daughter…the weight on his heart lifted. He only felt tired. So tired.

When every speck of red was cleaned from his hands, you helped him undress and put him in the bath. Your hands drifted over his skin lightly, caressing every inch. He needed tender care and you were willing to give it. 

“You’re mine now, Levi,” you told him, because it was true, “just like Meryl, we’re a family. No one will ever come between us.”

Karen said you didn’t understand the nuances of being a clan Queen, but that had only lasted for a day. 

It didn’t matter that Levi’d killed your fiancé. You weren’t stupid. With a little bit of thought after your earlier conversation you’d put two and two together, but Karen had underestimated you and you’d underestimated Levi. None of that mattered now. This man…this vampire killed his own mother for you, for your daughter...to protect your family. No, you understood nuance very well. 

You brushed Levi’s cheek, his eyes following you, looking for your approval, so you smiled. 

“Let’s have a pretty wedding, my love, then the adoption party, okay?” you said, "would you like that?"  

He tipped his head into your shoulder and breathed into your neck. You kissed his forehead, stroking his hair.  

“Okay, (Y/N),” he said, putting his wet arms around you and pulling you close, “I’d like that.” 

[curious-shadow-cat]

I remade both Anthony and Moxxie.

I just think these two would be better for each other. Moxxie wouldn't show up until after the three V's are dealt with.

All the imps in my version are skeletal looking and they have the colors that represent the rings they're from. Moxxie's color is yellow for Greed (I know it's not the color from the show itself but I don't remember most of the colors of sins so I changed it for this). The greed ring isn't exactly a city, most of the place has mountains so I wanted to keep the hooves. I don't entirely dislike his original design, I just hate that everything is red. There's barely anything different with the imps. The imps from the greed ring dig in the mountains looking for diamonds or gold, etc.

So Moxxie escaped his boss and now ex wife Millie to live a more calm life working at a hotel to try to help people. The reason why he left Millie is because she tried to use him to get their boss to keep her on the team and if he played along, she could keep her spot instead of taking Loona's place in the office. He was fed up with the lies and abuse from them both to the point that he jumped in front of a train and ended up in a different ring far from them. Their marriage barely lasted a year. Marriages with imps are not important to other demons or whatever, they can just say they're not married anymore and be done with it. They don't wear rings though since it's more of a holy thing to them, they give their partner diamonds, meat, etc. or do a dance, show off their colors, etc. give them their fur/feathers or their teeth.

Anthony is a little different from the show and he doesn't leave the hotel to work on his own watch, unless he wants to, he goes to relax at an aquarium and loves looking at the fish. Anthony can still have extra limbs he just keeps them hidden. Moxxie would be terrified of the water though since his mother drowned when he was little. Some imps can't swim.

[ivyodessa]

@hellcheeranniversaryweek Day 4- Medieval

Tristan & Isolde AU

The willows swayed above them as the sweat cooled on their bare skin, the breeze caressing their bodies like an invisible lover.

“I wish we could stay here forever.” Christine said, her soft voice breaking the quiet that had settled over them after their lovemaking.

“I could build us a little house deep in the forest,” Edward said with an easy smile, “I could fish from the stream. Live like no one knows who we are.”

“I could spend my days reading to you,” she smiled at him sweetly.

The mirth in his eyes dimmed before he asked haltingly, “When do you have to be back?”

Her smile faded as she answered quietly, “Soon. I told Bragnae I would be back by midday.” Her lady’s maid would be able to hold off suspicion if she were a little late, but not too much.

“I suppose we should cross the bridge then, your Grace,” he said it in jest, but it still stung. The reminder that he was her subject, and more importantly, the king’s wife.

She watched him as he stood to dress himself, admiring the lines of his strong body littered with scars. The shiny skin of the largest scar sat on his chest, healed by her hands the day he washed up on the beach all those months ago.

But they were in Cornwall now, far from the place they first met. Far from the private refuge of their seaside cabin where she nursed him back to health and they opened their hearts to one another.

She cleared her throat as she lifted her shift over her head, “Maybe….maybe there is a way,” she said tentatively. He turned to her as he pulled his shirt over his head and the intensity of his stare momentarily left her breathless.

“My father’s men talk. I know they plan to conspire with the dissenters at court to overthrow Henry.”

Edward’s eyes widened and his brows lifted, the information bowling him over, ““He…he is my king.” He struggled with what to say next, “He saved me from death, I owe him my life.”

“And he is my husband,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “But every day his rule grows crueler. He will stop at nothing to expand his kingdom.” She reached out to grab his hand, “He has never been unkind to us, but I worry the day may come when we meet his wrath.”

Edward’s face morphed into a pained expression, nodding solemnly at the truth spoken so plainly aloud. Henry’s mind had become warped and his sanity seemed to be hanging on by a thread, much like Edward’s loyalty to his king.

“In the midst of all the chaos, we could slip away. Go wherever we please,” she looked up at him, eyes shining brightly with the spark of hope and promise of freedom.

The thought of never again having to hide away in stolen moments, to be with each other out in the open…it was at once exhilarating and terrifying. Was there truly a chance for them to be free?

She reached her hands up to gently cup his face as he bent down until their foreheads touched, staring into one another’s eyes.

“How many have you loved before me?” she whispered into the stillness between them.

“None,” he said back simply, hands resting on her hips. The heat of his hands through her thin shift igniting the spark within her hot enough to set a kingdom ablaze.

“And after me?” she asked, her voice taking on a desperate edge.

His voice was all warmth as he smiled and said “None.” One of his hands coming up to cup her jaw and pull her into a gentle kiss.

“For all time, they’ll say it was our love that allowed a kingdom to be brought down,” he said solemnly. She frowned and nodded as her thumbs gently stroked his jaw before he spoke again,

“Well then…let them remember us."

He pulled her to him with the arm now wrapped around her waist and crushed his mouth to hers. Sealing their fate, and the fates of many, with a kiss.

[gaysindistress]

Van Helsing Retold - four

pairings: vamp hunter!reader x vamp!bucky

Summary: Under the cover of night, vampires and their hunters have been at war for centuries, never letting their bloodshed reach the light of day. That is until the wife of a powerful vampire leader, Steve Rogers is murdered and he demands revenge. Y/N Van Helsing is the target of his crusade and she comes face to face with his right hand man, Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death

Word count: 2.9k

three | series masterlist

Tag list: @vonalyn @hidden-treasures21 @cakesandtom @nerdytif @teambarnes72

disclaimer:credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest.

“Is she always this stubborn?” Bucky asks without looking back to Sam who’s returned from dropping off the she in question.

“Sometimes but we did just tell her that her entire life has been a lie,” Sam pauses, “why didn’t you tell her about being her mate?”

Bucky takes in a deep shaky breath as he stares at his hands that are clasped between his knees.

“I don’t see how that would’ve gone well for either of us. I half expected her to pull out a stake when I released her from my persuasion.”

“But she needs to know,” Sam urges.

“Don’t you think I know that?” He snaps back with an edge in his voice, “Don’t you think I know that I could help her but she won’t let me? It kills me to know that all it would take is for her to drink some of my blood and she would be healthy again. She would be safe but she doesn’t want anything to do with me. I can feel that hatred radiating from her when she sees me.”

Sam purses his lips for a moment before coming to sit next to Bucky, “She’s scared Bucky. She doesn’t want to die and she definitely doesn’t want to be the one thing she’s been taught to kill. You might be right in that she hates what you are but not who you are. None of that matters though because she’s terrified and her only chance at survival is one that she’s too afraid to take.”

Bucky can feel the heartbreak that Y/N is trying to ignore as she turns restlessly in her bed down the hall. He yearns to go to her and comfort her, lay next to her and take away any pain that she has.

But she would sooner kill him than accept any affection from him.

“I’ve never seen her hesitate the way she does with you; it’s her training fighting against her instinct and she’s never had that before. They’ve always been the same thing but with you, she hesitates, she fights against everything she knows,” Sam continues, “I’m not saying barge into her room right now and express your undying love for her but be honest with her. Tell her about your bond and tell her that you don’t expect anything, you wanted her to know so that everything is on the table. Give her the chance to fight her training and choose you.”

Sleep and I need to have an open and honest conversation because this whole flopping like a fish for hours on end is not cutting it. It’s been at least 6 hours of this and I’m starting to think that sleep will never come.

I tell myself that it’s because of what they told me about my mom or the fact that I’m a vampire safehouse (I can only assume so) but that’s not it. Nothing that I would be willing to openly admit is the cause of my restlessness. The true cause is the empty cavern that sits inside my heart and the gnawing feeling of barrenness that accompanies it. There’s a tug and small flood of warmth that follows but in its wake are more crushing feelings of nothingness.

I curl into a ball and tuck myself as close to the wall as I can. The kid in me hopes that if I make myself small enough, I’ll disappear but I know that won’t happen. No amount of shrinking could make me or these…feelings go away. They will always be there and the only time they lessen, if only for a moment, is when I’m near him.

There’s a shuffle outside of my door and a pause before a small knock. The person doesn’t come in and I groan as I lift my head enough to tell them they can, in fact, come in. Still facing the wall, I don’t see who it is and honestly I can’t find it in myself to guess. Whoever it is, takes a hesitant seat at the foot of the bed, just far enough away to not touch me or invade my space. I’m grateful for it but say nothing. They shift, causing the bed to groan under their weight. I can’t feel their eyes on me but I can hear the anxiety in their breathing.

“Sam, please don’t,” I start but the person interrupts me.

“Not Sam,” Bucky’s voice is small and timid, like a child too afraid of being scolded to speak any louder.

I still but the cavern inside of my heart feels like it’s beginning to fill in and I relax as much as I can at the welcomed feeling.

“Why are you here?”

“There’s…there’s more I wanted to tell you.”

I don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue but he doesn’t. Turning over so I can at least face him and he’s waiting for me to give him approval to speak like he did when he knocked. He’s just barely sitting on the edge of the bed. Almost to the point of falling off as he leans his forearms on his Jean clad thighs. He’s put on a black sweatshirt which surprises me. Vamps don’t get cold but here before me is an example of how wrong I am about his kind.

“If it has to do with my mom, I’d rather not know.”

His downcast gaze and long lashes hide his eyes from me but they flicker over to me for a moment before casting back to the ground.

“It's not about that.”

“Then what is it?” I know my voice isn’t as gentle as it should be and I immediately regret not fixing my tone as he flinches ever so slightly.

The faint sound of metal clinging together draws my attention to his hands where one ring sits. The sound came from him rubbing that ring against a bracelet tucked under his sleeve. Most vamos do wear jewelry but it’s usually massive and flashy to show off their wealth. It’s unusual to see such a plain signet ring and even more plain silver cuff. I’m half tempted to ask about them but I don’t. I don’t want to know anymore about him. I don’t want to know anything about him that would humanize him and validate the warmth that the vacancy in my chest.

“The bond can heal you,” he starts as he lets out a deep sigh, “it’ll hurt but it’ll stop the infection and you'll be healthy again.”

I push my blanket off of me and sit with my back against the wall. My legs are folded under me and I allow my eyes to settle on his back.

“How do we find my mate then, if I even have one? I know you’re supposed to feel something drawing you towards them and werewolves can scent theirs but I’m not a vamp. I’m still human.”

Bucky doesn’t say a word or let out a breath for that matter.

“Bucky?”

Nothing.

“Bucky?”

Of course he chooses the silent treatment during the worst possible fucking moment. Of course he would be that big of an asshole to do something like this….

Oh.

Oh.

Oh my god.

Oh my fucking god.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” John’s angry voice threatens to burst everyone’s ear drums. The crowd that’s gathered inside of the Guild shrinks back at the sound of his voice.

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t find her?”

The man who John is yelling at, tries to stand tall but it’s nearly impossible.

“She was resting and Sam Wilson was watching over her. During the guard change…”

“I ALREADY KNOW HOW YOU FUCKING LOST HER, WHAT I WANT TO KNOW IS HOW YOU CANT FIND HER!”

The man squeezes his eyes shut, “she went into the Masked Club and after that the trail went cold. There are no other leads for us to follow.”

“Fucking pathetic,” John spits at the shaking man. He spins, giving the man a false sense of relief, before he turns back and throws a stake at his heart. The man stumbles back from the impact and chokes as he falls to the ground.

“Let that piece of shit be a warning to all of you; find Y/N Van Helsing and Sam Wilson or you will end up with a stake in your chest.”

No.

This simply cannot be.

This simply cannot be possible.

The panic must be evident in my rapid breathing because Bucky barely tilts his head to look at me. His face softens and he turns his body to face me, his hands reaching out to comfort me but they fall to the bed. He searches my face for anything at all but all he would find is sheer confusion and panic.

“Talk to me,” he gently whispers to me.

I can’t though. I can’t get the words out. I can’t get my mouth or tongue to work. I can’t get my lungs to expand or my brain to function. All I can do is look at him with bewilderment.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way but you need to know everything if I expect you to trust me.”

I stare at him.

I stare at the vampire who’d saved me at least twice.

I stare at the vampire who I'd only known for maybe a week but who has still taken up all of my mental space.

I stare at the man who I felt a strange sense of overwhelming comfort and safety when I’m around him.

I stare at the man who is offering to risk death to save me, someone who should’ve killed him that first night.

I stare at Bucky, the man who I know to be my mate, and I can’t find the strength to say anything to him.

“I’m not telling you this to manipulate you if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“How long have you known?” The words feel heavy in my mouth, like I haven’t spoken in years.

“Since the night you killed Peggy.”

I raise my eyebrows, “what did it feel like?”

“Like my entire world was falling apart and I couldn’t stop it but it didn’t matter because I’d finally found…you.”

my brows knit together at his sincerity and I have a million questions I want to ask, alas none of them come out.

It seems as though he can read my mind and answer the most pressing, “some humans will feel it too but not always. Sometimes it doesn’t happen until after they’re turned.”

“Would it affect the bond?” I mumble.

He sighs again, “I’m not sure.”

“And it could kill you? Breaking the bond?”

He nods, “but if that's what it takes to keep you safe and healthy, then i'll do it.”

I nod too, slowly and more to myself. Did I feel it that night? Did I feel the bond snap into place? I honestly can’t say that I did but I was also preoccupied with my head wound and Peggy having spit on me. It would make sense if it did and I just didn’t happen to feel it. Given everything I have been feeling, all signs point to that likelihood.

“It doesn’t have to be now or even soon. We can wait until you’re feeling stronger. It’ll take a toll on you too.”

My eyes make a slow ascent from the hand closest to my knee to his pale blue eyes. They're unyielding in the way they hold my attention but yet soft enough that I don’t shy away.

“It’ll kill you.”

“It could.”

“You’ll die,” I whisper as I search for any hesitation in his face.

“But if that's…”he starts and I stop him almost immediately.

“No there’s no ‘if that's what it takes’, Bucky. You can’t sacrifice yourself like this for someone you don’t even know.”

“I do know you.”

I scoff, “no you don’t. Besides would you let me do this for you? Would you let me risk dying to save you?”

He hesitates but shakes his head. He would never dream of letting me do the same for him.

“It’s different with me. I’ve lived my life and you haven’t.”

I lean forward and grip his hand without thinking, “You turned when you were 26, I hardly call that ‘living your life’. I can’t ask you to do this for me no matter what we are to each other.”

Bucky looks at our joined hands and then to me, “did you feel it?”

His eyes flutter shut when I gently squeeze his hand, “did you feel it that night?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

My blunt words shock him and he tries to pull his hand away but I clamp down on it.

“That’s not what… that’s not what I meant. I don’t remember feeling anything but a lot happened and now I feel something, I just don’t know what it is.”

He furrows his brows at me, well at the fact I wouldn’t let his hand go, but he keeps the conversation moving, “describe it.”

“Well,it feels like there’s an empty void inside of my chest that wasn’t there before. It’s like a door was unlocked somewhere down the line but I don’t know when and it aches all of the time. My chest, my whole body really, hurts constantly and nothing I do or take makes it go away. At first I thought it was because of my head but it gets better.”

I stop. I can’t say the next part. I can’t admit that. I can’t tell him that.

Bucky begins to rub his thumb over the tops of my knuckles in a soothing way and the words spill out.

“It doesn’t hurt as much when I’m near you. It still gnaws at me but it’s better. It feels better…I feel better.”

“What about the pull?” He asks softly.

I tug at his hand, urging him to come closer and he does. He climbs further into the bed and sits in front of me, his own legs folded under him like mine. Our hands are joined in between us as he keeps his head bent so he can focus on our hands.

“It’s there too. That and the emotions. I think I’ve felt some of your stronger emotions like at the club with Helmut.”

Nodding, Bucky takes a deep breath before flickering his eyes up to mine. His long lashes hide their full intensity from me but nonetheless, it’s there. He holds my half gaze for a moment and I feel a wave of warmth; adoration, comfort, safety…and something more ways over me. My infected hand, ever the cruel reminder of my situation, screams out in both joy and rage.

I think he can feel it too because he drops my other hand to hold just the sickly one. Once again he’s gentle in his motions as he rubs his thumb over the protruding veins and bones.

“Are you happy?” He asks without warning or context.

“Are you happy as a human?” He clarifies.

“Of course,” I say but it’s rather unconvincing. A week ago I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat because I was doing what I thought was my destiny. I am a Van Helsing, the last of the greatest line of Vampire Hunters. Slaying the creatures of the night is in my very DNA and I’m exceptionally good at it. I had been happy before I met him although bored but I was happy…I think.

Now I can’t say for certain. Now one of my hands is infected with venom and it’s slowly starting to unthaw the protections the doctors tried to use. The only way to cure me is to turn or essentially kill the one person the universe chose for me. Now the worst vampire on the American East Coast wants my head on a silver platter while his right hand man sits before me asking me if I’m happy. Now I don’t know what the fuck the word even means and I don’t know how to answer him in a way that’s believable.

“Tell me the truth; are you happy?”

I drop my head, I can't look at him anymore.

“No.”

“Would being free of the venom make you happy?”

“No.”

“Then what would?”

You.

While unspoken, the simple word fills both sides of the bond and wraps us in a cocoon of warmth.

You.

Him.

Me.

Us.

Bucky shakes his head like he’s shaking out the thought, “Your happiness will be found in your freedom.”

I hadn’t noticed that he’d grabbed my chin and was looking me in the eyes when he said that. I hadn’t felt the way of complacency that overcomes me as I nod along with his instructions.

You will remember that we are mates but you will feel no different about me.

You will remember that we are mates but you will go through with the curing of her hand.

You will remember that we are mates but you will not feel anything when I die as a result of the bond being severed.

Next thing I know I’m laying in my ball of blankets again and it’s been hours since I thought I saw Bucky. The cold of his touch still chills my skin but it’s nothing compared to the freezing of the connection between us.

Tears slid down my cheek but I can’t figure out why. I have no reason to cry. I have no reason to care that the connection feels like it’s dying. I have no reason to care about him.

He made sure of that.

[headfullof-ideas]

I have more headcanons. These ones are of the Nektons, and the kids relationships with each parent

Ant

- He taught himself sign language, and proceeded to not tell anyone for four and a half years straight

- He doesn’t eat fish and most other seafood because of Jeffrey

- He’s allergic to bee stings and pollen

- Ant was born two months early in International Waters, which is why he’s so small for his age

- Ants wants some sort of reptile pet beyond Jeffrey, like a lizard or snake, but is worried about it getting thrown around on the Aronnax during the families many adventures

Fontaine

- Fontaine had an emo undercut when she was twelve. She burns any photo of it she can find, embarrassed

- She likes playing around with clothing styles

- Her favorite instruments to play are guitar and piano

- Fontaine is really good at cutting her own hair, but can’t be trusted to cut someone else’s at all

- Cannot stand pickles in the slightest, but weirdly enough loves cucumbers

Kaiko

- Knows martial arts, and teaches her children

- Was a lot like Ant as a kid, but mellowed out as she got older

- Kaiko loves sci-fi movies and stories, and has a personal collection of comics from her childhood

- She snores nearly as loud as Will

- Kaiko can pilot more than marine vehicles. She can also fly most planes, including helicopters

Will

- Burns water. He’s the worst cook in the family

- Watches the Olympics to laugh at the competitors he competed against and didn’t like. It’s his soccer

- Has a traditional Māori (I think that’s what ethnicity he is, I’m not sure) tattoo across his back, representing his family

- Carries several pictures of his kids and wife in his wallet, and shows them off to anyone who stands too close and too still long enough

- Is weirdly pretentious about tea despite living on nothing but coffee

Ant, Fontaine, and Kaiko

- Ant wants to be a Marine Biologist like his mum when he grows up, and Fontaine wants to be an Ecologist with a Music Degree on the side. Kaiko tells them that she’ll support whatever they decide so long as they finish their homework

- Ant is insecure of how few traits he gets from Kaiko’s side of the family in comparison to Fontaine, and Kaiko likes to kiss his freckles and say that it’s there in the small traits he gets from her

- Fontaine and Ant both inherited Kaiko’s recklessness and stubbornness, and Kaiko calls to apologize to her parents every time she suffers from it

- Fontaine likes to have girls days with her mom, doing make up and talking about how dumb the boys in their family can be. Kaiko enjoys the time she spends with her daughter

- Ant and Fontaine both went to great lengths to try and convince Kaiko to let them keep the sea snake they found when they were kids. Kaiko had to pull up every ounce of patience and self-control she had to resist the puppy eyes

Ant, Fontaine and Will

- Will teaches Ant and Fontaine the traditional Hakka, and can’t tell if he should be proud or terrified for their lives when Ant starts doing it to the Monumentials and Fontaine to Hammerhead

- Ant and Fontaine both had a game growing up where they’d throw themselves at Will to see if he could catch and carry them both. They continue to do it well into their late teens, and sometimes still as adults

- Will was adamant he be the one to teach Ant and Fontaine how to swim. He’s a very proud papa when they get into the odd swimming competition and dominate

- Fontaine and Will have inside jokes about how they’re both banned for life from the kitchen. Will calls Fontaine a traitor when she’s allowed in to bake

- Ant can’t help but compare himself to pictures of his dad at his age, lamenting about how he’s not as tall or big. When he confides about this to Will, he tells him about how self conscious he was about how much taller and bigger than everybody else he was at Ants age

[eremin0109]

God, I can't stop thinking about that one particular moment from episode 5 where Junmo reaches his hand out to Gicheol after getting slashed on the back. It's such a natural reaction too, Junmo is not acting here. He's genuinely got caught off-guard by that attack, bleeding profusely all over—his first instinct was to reach out to the man in front of him. And Gicheol is horrified and manic and fucking livid all at the same time, pulling Junmo gently to his side with one hand while the other empties his handgun into the bastard who dared to attack his right hand man. It's such a surreal moment.

This entire scene is masterfully done, especially from Junmo's perspective. He wanted to tag along Gicheol to know about the "fishing" deal, but he couldn't have anticipated this attack. It wasn't like the last time they had to fight together between just the two of them, when Junmo had orchestrated the whole thing just to gain Gicheol's trust. There was no actual threat to his own safety then.

But that was not the case here. Junmo's thrown into this bloodbath simply by his association to Gicheol, with a very real possibility of dying there. He could've abandoned Gicheol, abandoned the entire goddamn operation because fuck it, he's got an entire life ahead of him. He's got a wife he loves so much and the prospective of having a family with her. So why should he throw all of that away for a 2-rank promotion that may or may not even come, if the corrupt police system is anything to go by??

Yet, despite everything, Junmo stays. He stays and fights for Gicheol, saves his life and almost dies doing so. Sure, he might justify it later (mostly to himself) that it was all for the mission, because Gicheol was more useful to them alive than dead.

But in the heat of the moment, Junmo couldn't have been bothered to put up that mask. He wasn't "Seungho" when he took that damn blade for Gicheol, he was very much Junmo. And a part of him would've been absolutely terrified to realise that he was willing to die for Gicheol, just as Gicheol was ready to kill for him.

[xeilon]

Going insane right now over just a few sentences like how Albrecht raised his daughter alone, (his daughter who has her mothers eyes) Loid carrying Son on his back around the garden, and how Necraloid (the Entrati's most loyal servant) was built to keep Loid from being alone. Aslo that during the Incident(TM) only Euleria and Kalymos were there because everyone else given up on Albrecht.

Like, I love the theory that Albrecht and Loid are Euleria's parents etc. but. BUT. LISTEN.

Albrecht who always tried to do right by his daughter falling apart just a little bit (a lot) after meeting with the Man in The Wall, getting colder and trying to keep distance from everyone.

And then this random twink shows up, who wants to assist Albrecht in his research and "No I don't need help!" but Euleria is just like "You absolutely do, you're a mess." And Albrecht finally coming to see Loid in a new light after years of working together.

The family notices that Albrecht is in a much better place than before and quickly connects the dots between that and how close the two of them seems to be, and just going, "You know what? That's great."

And then Albrecht at the end of his life falls back into bad habits, and decides to do, whatever the hells happening in Whispers in the Walls and asks for Loid's help and secrecy because he can't let his daughter know of this.

He builds Necraloid because even if he's gotten closer to his family than he was after meeting Wally, he never quite understood the dinamics after that. He didn't really understood the rivalry between his grandkids, just why Grandmother is even there, or how much his daughter is worried about him.

Also Loid. He absolutely does not understand where the family stands with Loid. So he believes that he has to build a little robot to keep Loid company after he leaves, because who else is gonna do that, completely missing the fact that the family adores the man.

His grandson constantly in his heels beggin for piggy back rides, his granddaughter seeks him out all the time to show him her new fishes, his daughter has tea with him at least once a week where they just vent to each other about everything and everyone, grandmother rubs off on him like hell and Vilcor is absolutely terrified of the duo that is his wife's non-offical adopted dad and his mother but is too scared to say anything.

So Albrecht leaves, oblivious to the fact that he's the only one who didn't quite notice that there is no need to worry about Loid's company, but really he is an infuriating man who never just listened and Loid does love him for that.

So he keeps his secret, (whatever happened to him, noone will know) and he mourns alongside his daughter and grandkids and then lives the remaining of his life with them. But he is no orokin, and he still has much to do (the Kalymos sequence) so he has to leave too, and after thinking about it a lot, gives Necraloid a (for a long time) final command, to serve his family just as he served him, to keep them company, and to not let them slip away, as his Albrecht did long ago.

[coral-nerd]

Coral Island Farmer Questionnaire!

I wanna hear y'all Coral Island fans infodump about your Coral Island farmers!! Tag a friend, start your own post, gimme that sweet sweet lore!

How does your farmer feel about:

Farming:

Mining:

Foraging:

Catching:

Fishing:

Ranching:

Combat:

Diving:

Interacting with the Islanders:

Other:

What is their favorite building material?

What is their decor style?

Who's their love interest?

What's their favorite thing to grow?

What's their favorite animal?

Bonus! What do you associate with your farmer in these categories:

Color:

Season:

Metal:

@cheeryconspiracy I'm excited to see what your questionnaire is!!

Putting my own farmer infodumps under the cut for Length purposes XD

Farming:

Morimiya: His second favorite thing in the world! His wife complimented the way he looks while working the land, and he immediately threw out every other activity to tend crops. His main goal is to have 100% FARM on his land.

Maya: It’s cool, she guesses. Tedious, but brings in the cash and that’s the main thing. She likes that she can ignore the plants for the most part.

Clementine: Ideally, she would plant exclusively flowers and let them decorate the farm for the full season. Until then, she’s stuck with the weeds -ahem- crops that will bring in enough money to live her dreams. Mermaid farming will be an entirely different matter!

Mining:

Morimiya: It’s another task to do to keep the farm running. Pretty relaxing, and nice to do in bad weather, but he wouldn’t do it for fun.

Maya: She LOVES it!! She gets to pound away at rocks with a sharp weapon for as long as she wants, and no one will say she has anger issues! Mining is where she feels the most powerful, even if it’s not skill-based. There’s practically no better thing for her to do.

Clementine: She doesn’t like being underground. Or the dark. Honestly the dream is to have enough money to just buy ores instead of going down there. But back when she was freeing the giants, you couldn’t keep Clementine out of the mines! She was determined to free them. Busted down 3 of the mines with a bronze pick-axe, she got so single-mindedly focused.

Foraging: 

Morimiya: He really enjoys it! Getting to explore the island in full, talk to locals, enjoy the natural bounty of the earth… what’s not to love! Especially when he can race around with his horse. Morimiya will devote full days to just wandering the island and picking stuff up. He used to enjoy the underwater bounty, but then... the Incident...

Maya: Hate is a strong word, but she really doesn’t enjoy it. Trudging all around, crossing paths with people, ugh. Or even worse, being in the boring underwater world!

Clementine: On land, she totally forgets foraging is an option. Literally never occurs to her that things exist and she can pick them up. But underwater, no one can compete with how much she’ll pick up in a day.

Catching:

Morimiya: As long as it fills up the museum and temple offerings, he’s happy to do it! He did once get himself unconscious catching exclusively soldier beetles, so there are definitely preferred bugs!

Maya: Bug catching is possibly the most thrilling thing she could ever do! The chance to use some real skill, finesse, cunning! She barely pays attention to what she’s getting, since the fun is in managing the catches.

Clementine: She HATES bugs. Absolutely terrified of bugs. Especially wasps and praying mantises. Her net is basically a fly-swatter to her; gets the bugs away. Screw the museum and offerings, nuh-uh she ain’t touching that! Although ironically, her avoiding bugs as much as she can means they stick around longer, since she’s not startling them off.

Fishing:

Morimiya: His favorite thing in the whole world! It’s so relaxing! Any free moment is spent picking a fishing spot for the day and just losing himself to the line and the pattern of the pull.

Maya: Hates it hates it hates it. Literal torture for her! Just sitting there, doing nothing, with a guaranteed bite on the line?? What could be worse! Why does the cruel god keep making her do it! Although, she does get the chance to defeat sharks and keep the trophies of that on her farm… and it makes good money…

Clementine: She feels bad for the poor little fishies- ack ew ew ew slimy cross, dead things EW- But luckily she gets so one-track minded that when she gets focused on money-making she can do it for literally a whole day. But mostly she’s trying not to think of the implications of fishing for merfolk.

Ranching:

Morimiya: He kinda got into it, but in the end all the noise and upkeep got a bit much for him. Besides, he wants to focus on the crops anyway. He did shed a few tears when he eventually got rid of the animals though, and he’ll always be grateful they helped him heal the island.

Maya: She will never ever ever admit this, but ranching is secretly her favorite thing. It may not be much of a power-showcase, but the animals are just so cute… and maybe it’s nice to take care of something other than herself. Plus they bring in SO much money!

Clementine: Animals are loud and messy and smelly, it’s such a pain. But if she wants her flower garden and mermaid themed farm, they’re a good way to earn enough to accomplish that. Ideally she would exclusively raise llamas, because they’re so fluffy!!

Combat:

Morimiya: It breaks his heart when he does it. He did it only to fulfill the offering bundle, and once during his depressed era he went on a rampage to enter the Band of Smiles. He still deeply regrets doing that. As far as he’s concerned, the “monsters” are just fellow creatures of the island, all beings beloved by the goddess, trying to survive just like he is. He seems to have a magical protection from them, so he’s never seen them as a threat.

Maya: She doesn’t feel any particular way about it. If it involved more skill, she’d probably enjoy doing it. As it stands, the monsters are nothing but an obstacle to her goals, and will be removed as such. She does think the Band of Smiles is weird for apparently viewing the monsters as actual threats.

Clementine: If she ever knew there were monsters, she would literally never go to the caverns. She’s already so scared of bugs, you think she could handle giant caterpillars and wasps?? She would 100% throw up at the sight of an ogre with a giant meat stick. So the goddess basically went, you know what? Let’s just skip that offering for now. And magically, Clementine can’t see any monsters!

Diving:

Morimiya: He used to view it about the same as mining, but with the satisfaction of healing the island. Then he got trapped in the merfolk kingdom for half a season and got severe PTSD, so now he’ll only go down there if Absolutely necessary for the farm, or island improvement.

Maya: Underwater is so weird. Land-legs are better. It was great when there was the challenge of clearing up all that trash, but now it’s just. Meh.

Clementine: UNDERWATER IS THE BEST THING EVER!!! Clementine never feels more herself than when she’s completely submerged. She totally cried when she got her tail, and if the merfolk would just talk to her she’d never ever leave. But until then, she’s going to make her farm as much like underwater as she can.

Interacting with the Islanders:

Morimiya: He is genuinely interested in every single person on the island, and wants to know their whole life stories. He'll go out of his way to get people gifts and talk to them, and remembers every birthday.

Maya: Doesn't give a single bother about the townsfolk. They're all so weird, and take up her precious skill-building time. No, she is absolutely Not warming up to them!! She just Happens to occasionally have the perfect birthday gifts, and why wouldn't she give anyone who asks her opinion! Not her fault she has level 8 hearts with half the island...

Clementine: Islanders? Who? What? Anyway, when will the merfolk and underwater creatures finally talk to her-

Special mention

Tokori, all of the above: head empty, no thoughts, vibin' and having a good time. Are they even fully aware of what they’re doing? Who knows, but they’re having fun doing whatever! Everything is beautiful!

Associations:

Color:

Morimiya: Brown

Maya: Purple

Clementine: Pink

Tokori: Green

Season:

Morimiya: Spring

Maya: Fall

Clementine: Winter

Tokori: Summer

Metal:

Morimiya: Gold

Maya: Osmium

Clementine: Silver

Tokori: Bronze

Favorite building material:

Morimiya: Wood

Maya: Stone

Clementine: Scrap

Tokori: Grass (not hay. Just. Grass.)

Favorite thing to grow:

Morimiya: EVERYTHING

Maya: Cacti

Clementine: Pink flowers!

Tokori: The green one

Favorite animal:

Morimiya: Ducks are pretty cool.

Maya: How dare you ask her to pick favorites. ... Goats.

Clementine: Llamas! So fluffy! But peacocks and quail are so beautiful...

Tokori: baby chicks!!! baby cows!!! ...what was the question?

Decor style:

Morimiya: Javanese

Maya: Art-deco

Clementine: Mermaid

Tokori: Cabin

Love interest:

Morimiya: Macy

Maya: Zarah

Clementine: Princess Miranjani 

Tokori: Grass