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petrichorium · 2 years ago

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the merman is back.

it’s a little weird how used to him you’ve gotten. he’d only shown up for the first time a few months ago, but when you’re largely alone out on the boat or in your oceanfront lab there’s no shortage of ways for him to visit with nobody around.

he’s yet to tell you a name, but after the first few weeks of silence he suddenly revealed a passable understanding of english; when he speaks it's rudimentary, but he clearly understands everything you say, even if he doesn’t listen half the time.

you haven’t gotten the nerve to get in the water with him. in fact, you haven’t gotten in the water at all since he arrived, even when your colleagues are around and he’s notably not. he’s massive, his tail alone being well over two meters long and possessing the torso of a man who would tower over you on dry land (a handsome man, you're begrudged to admit, with those broad shoulders and blood red eyes and that ash blond hair that somehow looks good immediately coming out of the water). he’s assured you in his blunt, curt way that of course he doesn’t want to eat you but you still have anxieties about getting out into the open water you’ve always loved and being pulled under by a fucking sea monster.

he’s getting bolder, though. when you take the boat out today, he follows it, like the dolphins used to back when you operated out of the keys; that sleek black body would be terrifying just from the size, like seeing a fully grown orca bump up against the hull.

and when you weigh anchor, almost immediately, the boat keels aftward when he pulls himself onto the deck.

you shriek and he immediately pins you with a steely glare. he’s never done that before. it’s fucking terrifying, though he’s not managed to drag his whole body up and you’re a little comforted by that. it’s just his arms—two massive, heavily muscled things that are flexed and crossed in front of him, holding his head, shoulders, and much of his human-like torso up out of the water with ease. that enormous tail trails behind him and it’s still terrifying to see, your heart skipping a beat every time the shimmering orange markings catch your eye.

you don’t know what you’ll do if he decides to come all the way onto the boat. he wouldn’t be able to maneuver that well, but where the fuck would you go? into the damn water?

“fucking christ!” you yelp. “don’t just do that, motherfucker!”

“calm,” he snaps as he rolls his eyes.

the urge to flip him the bird is overshadowed by the knowledge that he wouldn’t understand, and you’re too frazzled to explain what go fuck yourself means. instead, you turn back around to clean up the cabin that he’s managed to mess up.

“oi, human, come.”

you huff, shouting your name at him and pointedly refusing to turn away from your task. he’s clearly annoyed at that, and you belatedly realize that perhaps if you’re really that terrified of him coming onto the boat you shouldn’t provoke him. luckily, rather than heaving himself up, he jerks the entire hull.

it’s a smooth motion for him, gripping the stern and rolling his tail so that the boat moves with him. it’s like being out in a storm, and though you’re well aware that it’s just your needy visitor, your sea-hardened stomach still lurches at the familiar feeling.

you stumble out of the cabin, careful not to be thrown over the edge. “i’m out! holy shit, i have a damn job you know, i can’t spend all my time catering to your whims.”

he stops as soon as you get back on deck. “calm,” he tells you again, and you're really starting to hate the word, “too loud.”

“who’s fucking fault is that? don’t rock my damn ship.”

“sit,” he demands rather than apologizing.

there are a plethora of reasons not to. you won’t be able to get away quickly if you need to, you shouldn’t be encouraging his demands by obliging immediately, you really do have a job to do instead of… whatever this is—instead of listening to any one of those reasons, you ease yourself down with your legs crossed a little ways away from where he’s holding himself.

he snarls, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth. “closer.”

“no,” you snap. “not if you’re threatening me.”

his mouth shuts immediately, brow furrowed and lips pouting in an expression that’s less pleading or apologetic and more contemplative.

“not a threat,” he seems to settle on saying.

you roll your own eyes. “yeah. okay.”

“come here.”

“why?”

“wanna feel you.”

that throws you for a loop. what could he mean by that? you realize that perhaps he’s as fascinated by you as you are by him.

you’ve caught him staring at your body in the past. he’s never reacted like you’d expect—if you’d caught a human looking at you like that and then turning away when you caught his eye, he’d have been checking you out. but when it’s an apex predator of a different species, there’s an entirely different context, one you’re even less enthused about.

you’re standing before you’ve fully thought it through, fully freaked and ready for him to go. you barely get to uncross your legs, however, before he lunges.

it’s far faster than your not-normally-hunted-because-you’re-a-modern-person mind can follow. a cold, clawed hand snaps out to latch around your ankle and yanks you downward, slamming your back into the boat’s coarse deck and then dragging you towards the edge. there’s not even time for you to shriek.

this is it, you think. he’s going to eat you now; he’ll drag you under and rip you apart, or maybe he’ll drown you first as a mercy. you hope he doesn’t want to play with you further, drag you into the water and let go to make you swim because he wants a chase.

the moment your ankle hits the water he stops.

you’re breathing heavily, free leg still braced on the deck, arms finding purchase on a pole nearby. his whole body is underwater aside from his eyes and the very top of his head, but you can still see that massive dark shadow—only little flashes of that pretty orange-gold patterning visible as his scales glint beneath the sun—and it sends a thrill through you. he’s so ungodly enormous.

that hand is still around your ankle, but it’s looser now. his mouth is beneath the waves so he doesn’t speak, but his eyes are soft and almost regretful as he regards you.

“okay…” you move slowly, getting to a better position. it pulls your captive ankle from the water and the movement causes his grip to tighten as if he’s reluctant to remove it—he doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t let you go. you’re forced to sit on the edge of the deck with your feet dangling over the side.

“let me feel you,” he tries again, as if he’s giving you a choice.

“ask,” you decide upon demanding. his words have made you realize, with a burst of shame and a promise to never tell anyone in the future, that you’re not entirely opposed to the strange rude merman feeling you.

you’re gifted a growl, not unlike the snarl from before but lacking the teeth. he’s learning, you realize, not only in not baring those terrifying weapons at you but also in removing his hand from your ankle.

“can i… touch you,” he spits out, like the words and your request are insulting.

and again you think there are far too many reasons to give in just like that. you’ve been around enough children to know that rewarding problematic behavior is hardly the way forward, but there’s a certain part of your brain that’s in control right now and it’s not particularly interested in breaking him of his demanding attitude (quite the contrary, to your chagrin, this very annoying part of your brain is enjoying it).

“are you sure you’re not going to eat me?”

“no eating.” he huffs, wrinkling his nose.

“what, i smell bad or something.”

he regards you, approaching a little closer, and you resist the urge to pull your legs up to hold your knees to your chest.

“smell good,” he says, “not like food.”

all right.

“fine, then. if you’re not going to take a bite out of my calf, then… sure. feel me, i guess.”

he’s just as fast as before, not even waiting for you to finish your sentence before he’s lashing out and grabbing your leg again. this time, he’s not looking at your face; he’s focused entirely on your feet, those big hands inspecting them thoroughly.

it’s rough, and you’re a little glad because if he’d been gentle it would have likely been too ticklish. he’s still careful with his massive claws; you’re sure they’re sharp enough to pierce your skin with ease, and he’s clearly skilled enough to avoid it. you’re more than thankful, because you’ve seen how he hunts with them (he’s dropped disemboweled fish in front of you before as strange gifts) and you don’t want your legs to end up like his prey even if he doesn’t eat you.

he moves on from your feet, both hands latching onto one calf and almost massaging it in reverence. his face is even closer now; you really ought to be more worried by the proximity of those teeth to your skin, but the fascination on his face is so enthralling.

by the time he reaches the back of your knee, you're tensing. while before he’d been mostly in the water, he’s very nearly at your height now, holding himself up by his grip on you and an awkward hold on the deck with his spare hand.

and then he’s at your thigh, and your breath is heavy.

because he’s basically laid out on your lap, one arm wrapped entirely around your upper leg such that his large palm rests flush, fingers spread, against the plush flesh of your inner thigh. and he’s no less fascinated, expression no less sincere, as he pulls further up to get closer.

“warm,” he says, more to himself than you. he blinks, as if shaking away a daze, and his eyes jump up from your thighs to look at your stomach. “soft…”

his head drops. you jump, caught up in the strange haze he's brought with him but snapping out of it as he lays his head on your lap. your heart thumps erratically, your breath long bated. he’s not looking at your thigh anymore, and not your face either—he’s locked on your stomach, your loose t-shirt having ridden up slightly to reveal more bare skin.

you ought to see it coming, really, but when that big, cold hand moves from your thigh to your torso, sliding smoothly beneath your shirt and running up your bare stomach, you yelp and jolt back.

he startles, and then he’s gone, slipping back off you and disappearing down into the murky water. you’re left panting, with nothing but a very wet body and the ghost of his touch on your legs…

and the heat of your face at the knowledge that, while you’d been surprised, you kind of wanted him to go further.

#bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #mine.🌧#char.🌧 bakugou #that one beach episode #just a lil merbaku 👉👈#for the soul #w a spitfire reader bc im me JHSBDF #this is reposted!!! i wrote it like two yrs ago for jotato kujo lmfaoooooo but rewrote it for bakugo who tbh i think it works for even bett #but the og is still up on my ao3 so

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vampcubus · 2 years ago

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inosuke would absolutelyyy be the type of bf to just gift u rocks randomly. like run over to u, place the rock in ur hand, fold ur fingers over it, then scurry away 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ he’d be even more flattered if u keep every one 🤧

𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : sfw, gn!reader, established relationship, gift-giving, warm fuzzies. :ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 : 0.8k+

Inosuke almost misses the small thing whilst crossing over a sizable stream. He has to balance his feet on two large boulders and crouch down to reach for it without getting wet. He plunges his hand into the stream and minnows scatter in all directions beneath the rippling water. His fingers close around the small thing and retrieves his treasure with a triumphant grunt.

"What did you find, Inosuke?" Tanjiro inquires softly from the bank, watching curiously as his masked companion fishes something from the stream. The other slayer stiffens like a cat, and claps his hands over the small object, hiding it from view.

"None of your business, Gonpachiro!"

"That's not my name," Tanjiro sighs, but doesn't pry the matter any further.

"Of course it is!" Inosuke huffs, as if it were obvious.

Inosuke hops back onto land, hands cupped and dripping with water. He makes a beeline for the campsite and Tanjiro is quick to protest his departure.

"Inosuke, wait! We're supposed to be looking for... fish." But the other slayer has already disappeared into the trees, and the wine-red-haired boy only smiles, turning his attention back to untangling his net.

You're in the middle of getting a fire going when Inosuke bursts from the trees into the clearing, spooking both you and Zenitsu out of your skin.

"Inosuke! You scared us," you laugh, hand over your heart. Zenitsu glares, but holds his tongue in front of you, returning his attention back to trying to spark a flame. "Did you catch some fish already?"

He and Tanjiro had set off not even ten minutes ago in the direction of the sound of running water. Inosuke was particularly accustomed to gathering resources out here in the forest, but you had to say you'd be impressed if he'd found dinner so quickly!

"Even better than fish!" The boar-headed boy slows to a stop just shy of you and plops down in front of you, hands cupped around something. You have to admit that you're intrigued enough to ignore the growling of your tummy.

"Careful. Could be anything," the other slayer warns, remembering the last time Inosuke chased him around with a salamander. He shivers at the memory.

"Inosuke wouldn't give me anything dangerous, Zenitsu," you assure the blond, holding your hands out to receive whatever he'd found.

"Close your eyes, and no peeking!" He demands.

"Okay," you chuckle, raising a brow but complying. "Not looking."

Inosuke drops something wet and cold into your open palms, and your brows knit. His rough fingers fold your own over the object, and when he removes his own hands you're met with the sight of...

"A... rock?" You're perplexed, but you observe the offering closely, careful not to appear disappointed. You brush a thumb over the stone and are pleasantly surprised by how smooth it is, no doubt polished by years and years of water flowing overtop of it. It's a bit speckled too, like a robin's egg. It's pretty, you concede. "What a nice one too, are you sure you want to give it to me?"

"Mhm!" he grunts, nodding once.

"You ran all the way back here to give them a stupid rock?" Zenitsu grumbles, blowing lightly at the tiny flame he'd managed to spring to life onto a rather moist log. "We have to eat you know!"

"Zenitsu!" you scold, and the blond ducks his head submissively. "Well, I like it. Thank you, Inosuke."

Inosuke lifts his mask just enough to stick his tongue out at the thunder breather, who bristles at the provocation but decides against piping up again. Especially when he realizes you genuinely look pleased with the gesture.

"Of course you like it. I made sure to pick the best one for my beloved underling!" He boasts with his arms crossed over his chest, oozing with pride from your acceptance of his superior gift.

You can't help but grin at his confidence, unbothered by being called an underling. You knew what you truly meant to your unruly lover.

"Here let me put it with the rest."

"The rest of what?" Inosuke scratches his neck, head cocked.

You reach for your bag and dig around in it, retrieving a smaller pouch from inside it. Inosuke scoots closer, until he’s flush against your side, leaning forward to get a better look at the contents as you loosen the drawstrings. His heart jumps at the sight of various trinkets and acorns he'd given to you on previous occasions.

"I keep everything you give me, silly," you snort, adding the impossibly smooth stone to your growing collection of gifts. You swear you hear a muffled sniffle sneak out from under his mask. “They’re important to me.”

Suddenly, he's jumping to his feet again, dashing back into the forest to escape the warm fuzzies collecting in his chest.

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #inosuke hashibira x reader #inosuke x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader

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innerfare · 2 months ago

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Random Kid Headcanons

Summary: A random collection of Sir Crocodile headcanons

CW: None // SFW

———

Jams to music in his workshop. Most of the time, it’s metal. Likes pop music; would rather die than admit it. Sometimes, being on the Victoria Punk feels like being in a musical. Drums with his eating utensils at meal times. Has diverted course because he heard about a rock concert on a different island than the one his crew was initially headed for.

Pretty messy, TBH. Always has clothes strewn around his room, can never tell which ones are clean and which ones are dirty. Everything he owns has some sort of oil, grease, or lipstick stain on it. Also has lots of holes in his clothes, claims it’s grunge but really he’s just too lazy to mend them or doesn’t feel like buying replacements.

Drinks milk, orange juice, etc. straight out of the carton and puts it back in the fridge. Also dips his grimy hands into chip and trail mix bags. And if he’s cutting bread for a sandwich, he’ll do it directly on the counter; brushes his crumbs on the floor after.

Has used a steel scouring pad to get dried blood and oil off his skin before, and regularly uses dish soap to wash his hair. Thinks dishwasher soap and dish soap are the same thing, and that they’re the same thing as hand soap. Doesn’t know what fabric softener is. (If you decide to date this man, you will definitely have your work cut out for you; he’s a stray and it shows in his daily habits.)

That being said, he’s very picky about cosmetics. He only uses a certain shade of eyeliner, a certain brand of lipstick, and always uses a top coat when he paints his nails. He doesn’t, however, use makeup remover, meaning he usually wakes up with raccoon eyes.

Literally so dramatic, probably has a smoke machine somewhere on the Victoria Punk.

Has a notorious temper (as if we don’t already know). Snaps over small things. Blames others for moving his stuff because he can never keep track of anything, only to find he was the one who did it. Will never admit to being wrong. The temper can be confusing, too, because he often shows affection by making fun of people and even punching them (granted they’re strong enough to take a friendly punch). If he yells at you, he hates you, but also, if he yells at you, he loves you- oh, and he refuses to elaborate.

Uses his devil fruit powers to give members of his crew free piercings. Pierced Killer’s nipples after he (Killer) lost a bet. Has considered piercing his own nipples, thinks it would look sick.

Once accidentally drank oil instead of coffee when he was working in his workshop one night because he confused the canister for his coffee mug.

Drinks his coffee black, and not in a performative “I’m a man so I hate cream and sugar” kind of way. Genuinely enjoys his coffee black and bitter, the stronger the better.

Has the sort of mechanical brain that just has to fix things. If someone mentions a hinge is squeaking, a piece of something broke off, etc., he’s dealing with it almost immediately. Will lose track of time trying to repair things, once without realizing spent four hours trying to fix a can opener that Killer said needed to be thrown away. Has definitely taken things apart before to figure out how they work and then not put them back together because he got distracted (has undiagnosed ADHD for sure).

Smokes, but only ever late at night and when he’s alone. They’re his contemplative cigarettes, a little something to take the edge off and keep his hands occupied while the gears in his brain are turning. I.e., treats his late night cigarettes as a fidget spinner.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #one piece headcanons #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #one piece eustass #captain kid #captain kid headcanons #eustass kid headcanons #eustass Kidd headcanons

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starsomens · 6 months ago

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𝕂𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕟

year 1

1-3 months

Have a new baby at home was almost like having a guest in your home. Only your life revolves around them now and you’re constantly worried if they’re okay!

When you had gotten home from the hospital Keaton insisted that he was still sleepy and so stayed asleep meanwhile you and Noah were freaking a bit

“Is he supposed to sleep that much?”

“I mean his is a newborn so I guess it’s normal……is he breathing” *proceeds to put his finger under his nose “okay he is”

Keaton was more a day sleeper rather than at night….big problem. Here you were in your rocking chair trying to get him to sleep at 4:17 am. Your eyes were heavy, your arms felt like rock and you were really just ready to knock out right there. You didn’t tell Noah since he had some things to get done tomorrow

After half hour passed Noah came in rubbing his eyes and took Keaton from you

"Come on babe, it's my turn to watch him,"

"are you sure...*yawwwn* you have that meeting later today, I'll be-"

"Not gonna hear it. Get to bed now missy,"

You were so grateful to have Noah there to help you with as much as he does

Feeding, changing, bathing and night shifts were shared but he always made sure to take on a majority so you could rest more. While he did work still, he worked from home and if he had to take the whole day to help you he did.

The one thing that he did worry about was how small Keaton was. He was just so tiny in comparison to him. He held his entire body in his two hands!

He loved to do skin to skin, especially before going to sleep or while doing work at home. He knew that it was essential for bonding and just overall good for the baby. On top of that he really did enjoy just having Keaton lay on his chest and fall asleep.

When it came to breast-feeding, he was a very big help. He would help to get a good latch or he would help you with the breast pump and remind you about times and switch. Help you moisturize them to keep them from getting dry and cracked

There were nights where he would put Keaton to sleep. While he was in the rocking chair, he was just stared down at him while he stroked the soft hair on his head with his finger.

“ never really thought that I would be a dad…. Once we found out about you, it really did change everything. I swear I’m never going to leave you you need me”

He wants to give him the best life possible and the best dad that he can

3-6 months

So much development! Noah is just taken away by it! Now he's mimicking his faces, and sounds and he will spend HOURS just making faces and sounds or copying him

"babe, babe! Look he's copying me screaming face!" and he'd make his face then turn Keaton around to show you his face

He is convinced Keaton is more advanced than most kids so every time you go to the doctors he's just waiting for them to say they're perfect

the more he grows the more he looks like Noah but with your eyes. You spent 9 months carrying a copy of your husband for him to be his exact copy, but, he did take your attitude and personality

Noah swears that he gave him stank eye when he took the bottle away from feeding and said it looked exactly like you did

"Of course he is! Look at him!"

Noah Love tummy time with Keaton he was just so cute the way he smiled and giggled and tried to hold his head up. And yes He's let his head fall right on the floor and yes Noah has laughed while kissing his head better

Keaton seems to have a thing whenever Noah watches him that he just blows his diaper up almost on purpose. Noah thinks Keaton is entertained by it since he always giggles when he changes his diaper with a stank face.

yes Noah has gotten peed on

Keaton for the most part was a calm baby and seemed to like and be comfortable on schedule and would sleep and eat around the same times unless something happened

Whenever the guys are over he does hover. He hates to be called one and to admit it, but he is a helicopter parent (and it's really cute)

He 10000% takes milestone pictures every month to treasure his growth. Which by the way has cleared a wall in his studio to hand pictures of you guys on it.

Although he loves being hands on he also loves to watch you be a mom. The Keaton looked at you, how loving and soft you looked as a mom. The way your body has changed to create your baby always amazes him.

7-12 months

Keaton was now going through some changes and shifts some were better than others, including you not going to him as often when he cried. Which you hated and honestly Noah would just give in too because in his words it's

"dumb as fuck"

CRAWLING! EVERYWHERE! He underestimated how fast babies can be when they crawl But he loves to lay on the floor and let Keaton just crawl all over him or come and plop his body on his face

By now you're body has healed pretty well but still had some baby weight on you and Noah thinks you still look incredibly sexy

"but Noah look at this,"

"the body that popped out my beautiful son? Yeah I love it, now stop shit talking yourself before to bring Keaton to slobber on you"

Uses his baby as a threat against you by hold him above you and just letting his drool drip down on you (pure evil)

Speaking of drool, he's ben chewing on everything to get to his itchy gums. You noticed he started to grow teeth at around 7 1/2 month when he gave you an open mouth "kiss" you felt something rough and it was teeth! You R A N to Noah

"TEETH!"

"What?"

"TEETH!" and you just opened his mouth to show him the small stubs of teeth growing from the front gums. You were just glad you didn't catch it while you were breast feeding, welp, that means he's gonna have to bottle but you pump what you can

Now weening him was a little difficult. Even your pumped milk wasn't enough for him

"I mean, if you refused to give me your boob I'd cry too-" "Noah!"

Eventually through a lot of crying and one or two tantrums, he was moved on to bottles, now the issues was drying out your milk or whatever else was left

"If you want my hands are really big so I can just-"

"are you offering to milk me?"

"no.......maybe."

As for talking you guys have been trying to get him to say mama or dada any chance you got, but now it was a secret competition of who he would say first

Noah would basically spam him with the word Dada or Papa while you weren't around, and all lil Keaton would say was "mmmm" "buh. Buh" and blow raspberries

Now he did say his first words and it was when you had to go to a doctors appointment and he was getting fussy

"Say bye-bye to mama bud, she's gotta go"

"awh baby, I' don't want o leave you ether," you said kissing his chubby cheeks "mommy will be back soon okay?" while you hand him over to his dad he starts to whine and pout for you and said

"mama" in his sad voice as he chews at his cubby hand wanting you to stay

"HE SAID MAMA! HE SAID MAMA! Yes baby! I'm mama, that's me baby" you were ecstatic, while Noah was a bit disappointed he was still so proud to hear him say his first word, and at 8 months! You were a bit late to your appointment but hearing your baby say mama was much more important than the doctors.

but one of the biggest surprises was when he walked for the first time, and yes you both cried. It was actually at rehearsals for an upcoming show near home so you went with the guys and of course Keaton had his sound protection you were on the side of the stage holding Keaton up by his hands as you encouraged him to dance as his father sang. As he bounced up and down he was also padding his feet a lot and was just so excited for his daddy who was just out of reach

You start to move with him one foot at a time as he started to walk just a bit faster seeing how much closer he was getting to Noah, Noah turned and he saw you walking with Keaton as he held on to your fingers and crouches down with a big smile on to his knees holding out one of his arms

and just like that he let go of your fingers and stumbled his way to Noah, tripping on the last step but caught by his papa, Noah just picks him up and hides his face in his little shoulder and you know he felt emotional. An entire year went by and he didn't know how it went by so quickly, how much he had grown and how much you both had grown as parents, he comes over to you and kisses your head as Keaton just giggles as you both smoosh him in a kiss

"well, one year down."

「🍼taglist」: @badomensls @darling-millicent-aubrey @lma1986 @sanchez099 @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @flowery-mess @veronicaphoenix @malerieee @calleyx13

#dad noah sebastian #dad noah #noah as a dad #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #noah sebastian x reader #noahsebastian #star’s anons #dad series

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maximwtf · 2 years ago

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Hello person- I must say I love reading your lil fanfics always keeps me busy when It's in the middle of the night and I can't sleep lmao.

If I may, if you are still accepting requests- A Legolas x reader, where the reader isn't aware of a custom that elves have about braiding their hair and basically just accidentally confesses to him when they get bored one day and just start braiding his hair and only finds out when the Fellowship congratulates them for confessing or something along those lines hehehe

Legolas x reader

words: 1930

google docs pages: 3

warnings: none? fluff :D

opening: One day while you’re bored, you begin to braid Legolas’ hair, unaware of its meaning to the elves. It’s only later, when you find out the message behind it.

AN// Thank you so much for this request, love the idea! (this also gives me a reason to not write the other ideas I've been putting off xd) idk if this is a little ooc, but I hope it’s okay^^ It’s also lovely to hear that you enjoy my work!^^ Reader can be any gender !

“A time for congratulations?”

It hadn’t been long since you had joined the fellowship from Rivendell, like most of the others had too. The only one you knew better than the others was Legolas. Him you had met more than a few times in the past, mostly as an accident, but you did genuinely enjoy his company. You’d never admit it to anyone in the group, but you were happy that he had been the one from Mirkwood to join. You heard it had been his father who had suggested befriending Aragorn to him, and it was when Legolas had begun to look for Aragorn that he had met you. Aragorn you had only met a few times, and back then only knew him as “strider” like most. The others you had only met when the Fellowship had been formed, but all of them had seemed okay.

Now, trailing behind Legolas, you examined your surroundings silently. Old trees with roots going all across the forest blocked the view on your right and on the left only a few trees were growing, enjoying the sun they were able to get. The trees on the left casted dark shadows on the almost non existent road you were walking on. Gandalf had seemed to be very certain that there was a trail going here, but you weren’t so sure. But since no one else had doubted him, you had decided to just follow along. At least you weren’t going to get lost alone.

As your gaze moved from left to right, amazed by the sturdy old trees, being able to stand for such a long time, you noticed Legolas turning to look at you for a moment. It was only for a split second, but it made you humm to yourself. Perhaps he was happy to see you too. It was rarely that you could spend more time with him, mostly just short bump ins every now and then. He was a prince, and probably had a lot to do.

The group seemed to have noticed the darkened shadows of the trees, and decided to set camp for the night. The sun seemed to be setting, making the casted shadows even darker before the sky would begin to follow along. Spreading the darkness of the upcoming night all over.

You had agreed to take the first watch shift of the night before anyone could steal it from you. You’d rather stay up late and go to sleep than wake up in the middle of the night to take your turn. Boromir and Gimi seemed to have collected some bigger pieces of wood and some sticks that Aragorn had been able to set on fire to create a campfire. Legolas, you and the hobbits helped to bring some rocks and logs around the fire so everyone could sit. Sam had requested if he could make something to eat, and surprisingly enough no one had disagreed. The start of the night seemed to be going smoothly.

As Sam had begun to cook some kind of a soup or a stew, everyone else had spread around the fire. Some were fixing up their weapons and others just talking. You swore you had seen Merry and Pippin bothering Boromir too. You on the other hand had found a spot close to the fire. Most of the ‘seats’ had been taken, but that just allowed you to sit closer to the warming flames of the campfire. Legolas had seated himself near you. You could hear him lowering his bow and the quiver against the log he was sitting on. Other than that and the quiet talking, the only noise you could hear was the mixing of the soup Sam was making. Sometimes the ladle would hit the edges of the saucepan, causing a small noise to break the silent gaps.The moon was only a half, but since there weren't a lot of clouds in the sky, it was able to shine its light all over the forest. At times it felt like time had stopped after the sun had started to go down, and was still shining some light over the fellowship. It was only the cold night air that let you know it indeed was almost time to go and rest.

You shivered under your clothes, pulling the cloak closer to you, making sure it was properly over your shoulders. Something rustled behind you, and soon another cape was placed over you. A small ‘huh?’ left your mouth as you turned to look who it was. Legolas clipped the front clip shut so the cloack wouldn’t fall off of you. “You seemed cold.” He said, smiling slightly as he sat back down. “I- Thank you.” You said, still confused by the gesture. “Aren’t you going to be cold?” You then asked, feeling bad if he’d have to freeze because of you. The elf laughed lightly at your question and shook his head. “Elves can tolerate the cold better than humans, therefore you should keep it.” He explained to you.

You had never really thought of how different you were to him. Sure, you were friends with him, but you had no idea that the elves could tolerate the cold better than humans. Maybe you’d find out something else about him as the fellowship continued. This had to only one from many things that made elves so different from you.

You noticed that the faint light of the moon made his almost white hair look magical. The usually well braided strands of hair had opened up from the fighting the group had gone through with a few orcs earlier that day. You had noticed that the prince usually kept his hair well done, but maybe he hadn’t noticed yet.

Not being sure if you’d embarrass him if you pointed it out, you got up and sat next to him. You weren’t an elf but you had gotten your hair done before and over the years learned how to braid hair in different styles. So without another word, you took a hold of one of the half opened braids and began to undo it completely. Legolas seemed to have tensed up for a moment and you felt his eyes on you, but to your surprise he soon turned his gaze away and let you continue.

You braided the first strand of hair, pulling it behind his ear the way you’d seen him usually have them. After starting to fix the other one, you felt another pair of eyes on the two of you. With a quick look you found out who it was. Aragorn was sitting on the other side of the campfire with an amused look on his face. Not understanding what he had found amusing, you kept on working on Legolas’ hair. The prince’s hair was smooth and easy to work with. Humming to yourself, “you have lovely hair.” You said quietly, seeing the man shiver, but saying nothing about it. You were enjoying the moment, getting to feel closer to your friend for once. The warmth of Legolas’ cloak and the fire kept you warm and protected from the gusts of wind. The smell of the soup Sam had made was good, and it felt great to know you were going to be eating something that not only would taste good but also would be warm. You felt like you had only been eating bread and apples for such a long time.

You finished the other braid and mixed it in with the unbraided parts of his hair. “Both are fixed again.” You hummed mostly to yourself but out loud so Legolas could hear it too. You felt his eyes on you for a moment before they moved to Sam, when he handed the both of you a bowl with some steaming soup in it. You thanked the hobbit with a nod, and began to eat. From the corner of your eye, you caught Aragorn telling Gimli something and them both silently laughing. Trying not to pay no mind to the conversation, you couldn't help but to wonder if it was about what Aragorn had found so amusing earlier?

After that night, many more passed. Some worse and some just as good, but what kept everyone going was the mission and the people in the fellowship. Legolas never mentioned anything about you braiding his hair, and he even let you do it once or twice after. But after every time, it felt like more eyes were on the two of you. It was first only Aragorn, then Gimli joined and soon even Gandalf was in on it. At times it felt like even Legolas knew what was going on.

After some time of you being oblivious of what had been going on, you decided to bring it up. You had so many theories of what they could have been up to, that you just had to find out. Making your way from the back of the group to where Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli were, you prepared yourself. “What are you hiding from me?” This got the attention of the three, all of them slowing down their walking speed a little. “Whatever do you mean?” Legolas asked, giving Aragorn a quick look, almost as if he was trying to tell the man something. “You all clearly have been sharing a rumor or something along the lines of that.” You replied, but didn’t get an answer from anyone for a moment. “You should tell them.” Gandalf’s voice rang from the front of the group, clearly also aware of what you were talking about. “It isn’t a rumor per say.” Gimli started, looking at Aragorn for a moment, hoping he’d take it from there. You saw Legolas look away, not taking part in the conversation. “We wished to congratulate you on confessing to Legolas.” Your eyes widened for a moment, and without even wanting to, a “what?” Left your mouth. “They weren’t aware, Aragorn.” Legolas finally joined in, looking at his friend. “What is this all about?” You tilted your head. “When you braid his hair. See, to elves it has a significant meaning behind it.” Aragorn tried to explain. Your hand traveled over your mouth, clearly shocked. “And you didn't think to tell me?” You blushed slightly, smacking Legolas’ arm lightly. He stopped, taking a light hold of your hand to pause you as well. “I wanted to explain it to you but I found that..” He tried to look for words for a moment, and you let him. “I found that I cared for you that way, and I wasn’t certain if you had found the meaning yourself...” His eyes met yours again, after traveling for a moment. You stayed silent, not even noticing that the rest of the fellowship had also stopped near the two of you. “But I am aware that I should have told-” Legolas broke the silence but you stopped him before he could finish. “It’s all okay. I feel similar.” You admitted, looking away for a second. “Is this a better time for congratulations?” Gimli’s voice asked from behind you as Aragorn walked closer as well. “Yes, yes it is.” You smiled and turned back to Legolas. His eyes looked at you with admiration in them. “Gi Melin.” (I love you)

#lord of the rings #lotr #the hobbit #th #x reader #lord of the rings legolas #lotr legolas #fanfic #fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas greenleaf x reader #the hobbit legolas #legolas beloved #legolas x reader

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springsylph · 9 months ago

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WITCHING HOUR, CH 2/3 — [18+]

(18+) - MARKED FOR EVENTUAL SMUT, MINORS DNI!

fem!reader x arthur morgan

summary: the prodigal son returns tags: marked 18+ for smut in later chapters, reader has a backstory kinda (but now a little more than kinda), original side character(s), does arthur count as a tag, he needs his own warning, its more exposition please don't leave

word count: 4.9k

a/n: HERE! DAMN! (i'm so sorry this took so long)

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you can find a link to the playlist here! tag list (look how crazy. i have a LIST.): @photo1030

The subsequent mornings are painted with varying shades of gloom. It was smeared over the sky in thick coats, and if it was just a little thicker, it might be able to keep out the spears of light.

Sometimes, they tickle. Sometimes, they recoil from the rigid mounds of snow and blind you and anything else unfortunate enough to get caught in the line of fire. Pain in the ass, really. A particularly nasty pain in the ass flickers in the cloudy metal of your spoon one morning while you’re shoveling grits into your mouth.

“You planning on eating the table too, kid?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, as does your spine once you lower your spoon back into the chipped bowl.

“My apologies,” you gulp. “You’ll uh, have to forgive me, Mrs. Campbell. Seems the winter air’s gotten to my head.”

Mrs. Campbell was a wiry, dark-haired woman of 63, and had spent more time rearing cattle than children. She was rough, tough, and at present, leveling you with a stare so doubtful that you wonder if the look you often catch on the livestock is embarrassment.

After holding your gaze for a few moments more, she resumes the rocking of her chair from the corner and returns to her darning. A large red sock, the same one she’d whacked Mr. Campbell over the head with after she’d found it on the floor of the living room only thirty minutes ago.

“No, no, you’re alright.” Mrs. Campbell pauses, though her hands continue to work. Under, over. In, out. Not a single finger pricked. “Think that’s the most I’ve seen you take down in one sitting, is all. You bite like a bird.” She makes a funny chewing motion with her mouth—or, at least you think it’s supposed to be funny. It seems to amuse her well enough; most strange things did.

She then asks how much horse feed is left, and you tell her enough to last for the next two weeks. You ask how her daughter’s baby boy is doing, she tells you he’s been picking his nose, and the two of you return to your respective distractions: the pulling of thread and a spoon fishing around a now empty dish while you consult silently with the peeling floral wallpaper.

Arthur Morgan’s appearance had set you on edge, loathe as you were to admit it. The fact that there’d been no sign of him since you’d first spoken only hastened the growing dread, more so than the lack of response after your father’s men had been so kindly disposed of.

Contingencies had been thoroughly accounted for, leaving you mildly inconvenienced at best and dead at worst. There were other conclusions you’d drawn up, of course, but dealing in extremes had its benefits.

You press your thumb absentmindedly into the corner of the dining room table. Could the Campbells have heard your exchange? No, they couldn’t have, too old. And that was excluding the fact that the main house was rather far from the cabin. Given the time frame, it would have been well beyond what was reasonable for your…situation to have been brought up.

Besides, this was important. Better to sort this out now than when—if—he showed up at your doorstep again.

“I have a question.”

Mrs. Campbell snorts. “I presume you’re lookin’ for an answer.”

You set your spoon down, and stand to clear the table. “Do the two of you get…stray cats often?”

This time her hands waver. “During the warmer months, sure. But in this weather? I mean, if it had the guts to get through all that ‘winter air,’ I don’t see why not.” Her eyes flick up. “Would have to be real hungry, though. Or stupid, which I doubt, ‘cause cats ain’t stupid—sonuvabitch!”

You jerk as her needle clatters to the floor. She lets a curse slip as she hunches over to retrieve it; another follows as she tugs the string loose, just a little, and her fingers trip over themselves before falling back into a steady rhythm.

Her brows pinch in concentration. “Never met a stupid cat,” she repeats.

“I…I see.” Moving around to the other side of the table to collect what's left, you frown when you catch your warped reflection in a bent spoon. You pick it up, and your fingers brush over the bump unconsciously. “I saw one,” you say slowly. Mind fumbling over any disastrous outcomes. “A cat, I mean. He’s been hanging around my cabin for a while now. I was only asking ‘cause he’s been spooking the chickens.”

When Mrs. Campbell doesn’t answer, your mouth gets the better of you. “Only, he turned up again a couple nights ago. Acting real docile, you see.” Not docile. The farthest thing from it. “Nearly shot him then and there, but—oh, he just looked so pitiful! He’s real mean looking, all scratched up and such, but I was tired, so when shooing him off didn’t work I let him in. Didn’t hiss, didn’t bite, nothing. But, I think I may have scared him. Skittered right out the door, quick as lightning. He’s been pissin’ me off—pardon my language—but, I just don’t see why he’d go through all that trouble to show up if he was just looking to leave the moment I raised so much as a finger.”

You only cease your rambling once you realize that you’ve bent the spoon too far in the wrong direction. “I…should turn him away, shouldn’t I? If he shows up again?”

Mrs. Campbell lets out an exasperated exhale, smooths out her apron, and sets her mangled sock down in her lap. “He kill any chickens?”

“No, but—”

“You feed him?”

“No?”

“Well, I think you should. It’d be real funny.”

Funny. Funny, she’d said.

You look to the silverware for consolation, but they can only produce a weak gleam.

“Quit making faces at my utensils, I hate when you do that. If you got something to say, say it now so I can finish this damned sock.”

Instead of making faces at the spoons, you reserve them for the tablecloth. “I just—don’t think it’d be wise.” A wanted man, with a lofty bounty at that, and you were comparing him to a mangy feline. Attempting to see him as anything other than what he so obviously was would be disingenuous.

And maybe Mrs. Campbell wasn’t the right person to be speaking to about this, because her nose crinkles with such distaste that you have to remind yourself that you’d remembered to bathe. “You’re grown,” she says, “and you work here. I’m inclined to believe that you have enough know-how to keep yourself from doing anything too dumb. If not, oh well.”

“…Right.”

Sometimes you wonder if her daughter had moved out not for marriage, but to escape Mrs. Campbell’s dreadfully indifferent way of speaking. Still, you take her words with relative care and pray that the “feeding” portion of her advice can be altered into something much more metaphorical.

When you attempt to bring the dishes to the water bucket, Mrs. Campbell’s head snaps to you and she clicks her teeth. “Drop it.”

“I was just—”

The sock finds its way into a basket of other half-finished projects at her feet, and she pushes herself up to stand just as tall (if not taller) than any tree before snatching the dishes from your hands. “I don’t pay you to do my dishes, girl.”

You smile. “I don’t believe you pay me at all, Mrs. Campbell.”

“Precisely. Your Pa pays me. And enough with that ‘Mrs. Campbell’ mess; makes me sound like an old crone. Told you to call me Fran, didn’t I?”

Shrugging past the bitterness in her tone at the mention of your father, you turn to the doorway and pull your coat off of the hook you’d tossed it on the night before. It’s only slightly warm from where the sun has touched it.

The beams have softened their assault on the curtains; it’s still fairly cloudy, but there’s no sign of incoming snow. Chores would be alright, if only for today.

“I’ll work on it, Mrs. Campbell. But, I do have one more question, if you don’t mind.” You wait for a nod while you pull on your boots with a wince. “How come you don’t take on any other help?”

Like most of her responses, Mrs. Campbell doesn’t give much away. Nothing remarkable that you can discern, at least. She merely winks and carries on with her washing. But just as you set a foot out the front door, she calls out to you.

“Hey, kid?”

You turn.

“If the worst you can call him is a spooked cat, he can’t be all that bad, can he?”

You freeze. “Pardon?”

She looks up at the ceiling, as though her next words will appear if she gets her eyes to narrow enough. Glasses had been the first of many neglected suggestions you’d offered upon your arrival. You’d even offered to buy them yourself, with what little you’d been able to bring with you. But Mrs. Campbell, being Mrs. Campbell, had simply laughed.

Squinting, she returns her focus to the bucket and reaches for a cake of lye soap. “Ah, and tell that idiot if he slams my doors, I’ll send my foot so far up his ass that them science folks won’t have any animals left to call him.”

Illusory warmth finds you a few weeks later.

It isn’t quite spring yet; winter is a stubborn mule, and though the snow has receded into the dirt it still stamps its hooves into the wind. In the water, too—freezing rain taps its fingers onto the windows. Soft and melodic, it nearly puts you to sleep from your place on the floor before you remember the annoyances it’s dragged along with it.

There’d been no sign of trouble tonight, and the chicken wire had been reinforced a few hours prior. That’d mostly been the work of Mr. Campbell, though. He’d chirped about some promise he’d made to his “lovely wife,” and went on his merry way after leaving you with some choice words from the wife in question about the importance of rest.

The rain had started not long after. Which was great, for someone out there. But, bad for you. Pretty bad. Ugly, messy bad—because it was cold, dark, and the dirt hadn’t the moral backbone to keep itself together for any longer than two blinks before your boots were practically swimming in it.

The trudge back to the cabin was only slightly humiliating, considering the fact that the sole witnesses were the owls you knew were hiding out in the safety of the trees.

Scampering from the uneven path to the front porch, however, was another story. Although the pliant (no good, backstabbing) earth was quick and eager to drag you to its depths, you were aggravated enough to be slightly quicker, and your palms shot out to catch you just before your chin could meet the full wrath of the wood.

But the word “just” was a pebble cast into a pond, and the first ripple was the metallic tang that flooded your mouth. Diatribes were spat onto the ground alongside the blood, tongue throbbing with a vengeance before you drove the heels of your palms down to push yourself up. The second ripple was a little less red, but just as irritating. The rain had pulled the wet fabric of your work shirt and trousers tight over your limbs, and it had begun to border on painful when water droplets struck like one might strike the skin of a drum.

“I’m grateful, I’m grateful, I’m oh so fucking grateful…” It was a mantra you often found yourself repeating whenever nature’s pranks sought to drive you mad. Rain was good. Rain was fine, actually, so you’d ignored the creaking of your knees and hobbled your way inside.

And here you sit: back propped up against the wall, shivering like a fool with your knees tucked into your chest. The mud crusting between your fingers barely registers while you work on releasing yourself from your wet clothing.

Which, of course, is when the light tapping on the window takes its cue to crescendo. It’s a rather flimsy cloak for the uneven thunks outside that make no attempt to conceal themselves. But your bones know better.

Awful timing, that man.

You feel the weight of his fist against the door before he makes contact.

(One.)

You shoot up.

(Two.)

You lunge for the table.

You decide against greeting him with the rifle, which is a significant improvement. It’s a revolver. But you did have the good sense not to kick the door again; the rusty hinges were fragile enough without your meddling. Instead, you let it creak open with one hand on the doorknob.

You’re met with a bruise, planted right atop a cheekbone. A swollen bottom lip, blood threatening to split it wide. He’s got a button missing from his rumpled jacket, and the caving of the porch underneath his feet clues you in on the fact that he’s favoring his right leg. He’s been fighting. Fighting, and he looks about ready to keel over and die. Or pick another fight. Probably both.

Part of you unwinds at the sight of him, battered as he was. Present as he was. But the more logical part of you senses that he’s here for something, and the even more logical part of you remembers exactly what it was that stood at your doorstep.

It’s then that the stench of alcohol hits you, and the familiar smell of mud sweeps in not long after. Arthur is completely covered in it, save for his face. And—

There. There it is again.

That look.

Your pulse trips in your throat, and you pray that he’s inebriated enough to ignore it. “You’re on my porch. Why?”

Bright blue comes back into focus, and his hands fall to his hips. “I can go where I damn well please.”

“That’s all well and good, but why are you on my porch?”

He sniffs. Peers just over your shoulder. “...House call.”

You step to block him. “Now that’s two chances. I have it on good authority that one is just fine these days, but I’m feeling generous.” And confused. Extremely confused.

His face contorts into a heatless grimace, and the doorknob squeals. You’re suddenly reminded of the odd tales of shapeshifters you’d stumbled upon as a child: one moment a man, the next a bloodthirsty predator. Not a particularly helpful development—especially since your talk with Mrs. Campbell—but it was a development nonetheless.

Arthur rattles off the courtesies typically extended toward esteemed guests while you look him over again, and your eyes lock onto his hair. Another familiar connection—doe brown strands, streaked with mud and nearly plastered to his head from the light downpour. Much less ferocious than the rest of him. But, tonight, if you have to pick, he’s a wet dog. A wet, potentially drunk dog, who was missing his hat.

And suddenly, the natural chatter of the trees comes to a halt.

“What’d you just call me?”

…You idiot.

“I didn’t call you jack shit,” you lie. Arthur gives a loose smirk, and your next protests become nothing but bluster. “What, the little girl that hit you knock your ears shut?”

“Figured I’d let her get a hit in, out of the kindness of my big ol’ heart.” Arthur sways on his feet a bit, peering down at you through the water that he hasn’t bothered to wipe from his lashes. Gravity finds eventual triumph, and he leans into the post before eying the revolver still in your hands. “Don’t suppose you’re plannin’ on pullin’ that trigger any time soon.”

“What’s it to you?”

Arthur’s face begins to harden, and he crosses his arms tight over his chest. “You know, last time I was here I said you were lucky. Well, I’d like to make an addendum: lucky and stupid, lady.”

You cast a disbelieving look at the leg he’s been keeping his weight off of. “And you’re drunk. The fact that you got here without your horse cracking your head open is a miracle.”

His brows draw low, and he rubs the heel of his boot against the muddy spot where you’d fallen earlier. Blinks at the ground. Then, with the vigor of a child caught sleeping in church, wipes angrily at a speck of mud on his thigh. “M’not drunk,” he finally mutters, flicking the offending dirt out into the yard and crossing his arms again. “And I’ve got enough trust in my horse to fill at least half of that barn y’all got.”

“Just half? Not the whole thing?”

“Whole thing would be two horses.”

You almost laugh. Almost. When you don’t reply, his eyes drop back down to the gun, gaze contemplative. “You got any idea how easily I could’ve knocked that flimsy thing outta your hands?”

“Why of course I do, Mr. Morgan.” The dampness you’d been struck with pulls at you, bones heavy and patience now worn thin. You give the revolver an exaggerated twirl, the metal snatching what can be seen of the moon through the rain and reflecting it at him. “I’m real lucky you’re here to tell me so, ain’t I? Matter of fact, why don’t you go and fetch me my chair before I topple right on over? ”

“That ain’t what I meant, and you know it.” You think he sounds somewhat regretful. But somewhat isn’t enough.

“Do I now,” you say dryly. “You seem to ‘not mean’ an awful lot.”

Arthur pushes himself off of the post with his shoulder and shoves his muddy hands into his muddy pockets. “I just don’t see why you people are so eager to act like you got your life for dog-cheap.”

“You people?”

“Yeah, you heard me. You people.” He’s looking at everything but you now, eyes wild but body frighteningly still. “You’ll look trouble right in the eye, and lie right through your damn teeth till it gets you laid out cold in a ditch somewhere.” Arthur gestures to the embarrassing height your shooting arm has dropped to in the time that he’s spoken. “I can tell each time you open that door that you won’t shoot. Can’t, I’d argue, ‘cause if you didn’t have my big head within one inch of that barrel, you’d be some deep shit.” His words are a forlorn echo amidst the rain, now nothing more than a light haze.

You could shut the door and go back inside, you think. Tell him he’s wrong, because he most certainly was. Peel out of your damp clothes, because standing outside in the chill spelled nothing but trouble. Arthur wouldn’t push. He was just as prone to bluffing as you were.

And yet.

“I could say the same about you. Don’t think your kin would take too kindly to the fact that you’re hangin’ around someone that knows your face. Who you are.” You steady your aim. “That’s a loose end, Arthur. You don’t seem like the type of man to keep many of those around.” It’s the first time you’ve said his name all night; you’re only sure because the moment it leaves you, his entire body tenses before he sags back against the wooden post.

The way he looks at you then might be considered cruel and unusual punishment. You think of butterflies, embroidered into blankets from childhood. Tacked to the wall of your father’s study. The only difference between them and you is that you’re free to leave.

If only you possessed something to sweeten the deal—whatever deal you could come up with in the next five seconds. To mask the returning waver of your voice, now laden with inconceivable realities. “Am I a loose end, Arthur Morgan?”

He opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Untucks a hand from the arms he’s wrapped around himself to scrub at his beard and finally wipe at the water you’ve been eyeballing from his lids. He opens his mouth again, now on the precipice of what might be an explanation.

“S’dangerous,” is all he says.

You see red.

The arm holding the revolver is dropped so you can poke a finger into his chest. “You’re not making any sense!” Each word is enunciated with a jab, and you cringe at the feeling of rain rewetting the mud underneath your fingernails. “You cut and run, turn up drunk and beaten half to death, practically beg me to let you inside, and then you get upset when I say I won’t pop a bullet into your head?”

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose, voice beginning to escalate. “Now if you would just listen for more than two seconds—”

You cut him down with a harsh whisper. “Listen? Listen?” Your eyes momentarily check for any sign of a light being turned on in the main house. Nothing. Your finger falls away then, and a violent chill wracks your body from head to toe. “No, you listen. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. You said your piece the last time we spoke, and you left, so why are you on my porch!”

“I don’t know!”

Something cracks, and your vision blurs when you whip your head to recheck the lights. Still nothing. The crack fizzles out into nothingness, and you return to find Arthur close. Awfully close. And your hand is warm and—oh.

It seems his pluck is rather contagious. The noise you’d heard wasn’t thunder, but the sound of your treacherous hand clapping right over Arthur’s mouth.

Time stills. Or speeds up, more like. The only thing you can be certain of is that ring of greenish gold around his pupils. The brush of his lips against your palm. Humid air being released in slow, steady clouds. You briefly wonder what else this warmth has dominion over, save for your cupped hand. Who else.

The speed of the exhales increases, and envy wriggles in the dirt of your heart like unearthed worms. Did his mind wander, as yours often did? Surely not as emphatically. It no doubt ambled from one thought to the next, attention snagged only when he had the energy to do so. Had you been interesting enough to snag his?

The spell is broken by a lamp flickering on in the distance.

“Shit!”

Sheer panic sinks its claws into you before rationality can, and you’re curling a hand around Arthur’s wrist and yanking him inside before he can protest.

You’re both panting ragged breaths once the door shuts behind you, in spite of the mere two steps it’d taken to cross the entryway. Tangible confusion permeates the air, and Arthur looks at you expectantly. It’s only fair that the (secondary) perpetrator speak first.

But words are tricky, tricky things. And as much as you partook in your fair share of falsehoods, finding the right ones when you didn’t feel that your life was on the line was an unfamiliar practice.

Voice quiet, you blink at the muddy footprints on the floor. “You left my door open.”

“I remember,” he replies. Simple.

The silence returns, eerily reminiscent of your first encounter. You consider telling him about the warning Mrs. Campbell had wanted you to relay to him. But then you think about all of the other things he’s missed since he’s disappeared, and your mind becomes saturated with just about everything, and somehow nothing at all. But Arthur’s voice, once again, cracks the fragile quiet.

“God damn it!” He begins to pace, rubbing at the shadows under his eyes. You’re thankful that he’s finally lowered his voice to a whisper, though the close quarters don’t seem to help with the intensity. “I ain’t supposed to be here. Not like this.”

“Not like what? Arthur what do you—”

“This isn’t how this was supposed to go,” he says, voice edging on the side of desperation.

“How what was supposed to go?” You look at his hands, fumbling with his belt loops. He sucks in a brittle gulp of air when he catches you looking, like he’s surprised you’re looking at him at all.

And then, miraculously, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

“I’m to kill you. Ideally this evening.”

Until it all promptly falls apart.

You turn away. Begin to work open the half done buttons of your shirt. Arthur turns to face the door. You decide to humor him. “Who.”

“Some man, your Pa, I presume,” he says. For the first time in what feels like eternity, his voice is devoid of any feeling. It sounds small. Not defeated, not yet, but oh so small. “Willing to pay big bucks to get rid of a ‘financial thorn’ in his side. Knew ‘bout my business in Blackwater, which I assume you’re also aware of. Said he’d had some bonds on that boat.” Blunt fingernails scratch lightly at the curtains. “He said I could sniff things out, see if I wanted to to his dirty work.”

Shirt falling to the floor, you allow yourself some time to stew numbly in your naivety while you get the fire going; you could be disappointed all you wanted once you were warm. You can hear Arthur scrubbing at his beard again when you begin to drag a chair in front of the fireplace. You sit, or collapse rather, and shuck off your boots with little care for where they land. Where the mud splatters.

“How’s Marlene?” You ask.

Rustling. He’s turned around. More frantic rustling. He’s turned back to the wall. “I’m sorry?”

“Marlene. Chicken. ”

“Ah. She’s uh, good. Eating good. Still pecks like hell, though.”

And, once again, more silence.

You bark out a dry laugh. It hurts—hurts like hell, but it tumbles out of you with a sharp snap. It snowballs into pure, unadulterated laughter. Bouncing off the walls, the drinking glasses, the mud, right into the fire and back out again. It continues until you’re left with nothing but a pathetic wheeze rattling your lungs.

Settling into the back of the chair, your head lolls back till you can see an upside down version of the bewildered Arthur you’d turned away from. The angle is awkward, and the blood rushing to your head makes him look all warm and fuzzy, but it’s precisely why you’ve chosen it.

“Didn’t think finding all this out would be so funny.” He speaks as if poking a tiger.

Another half-hearted chuckle slips out of you. “Good god, I thought you were trying to proposition me.”

“Proposition you?” He scowls. “What on earth would I—”

Arthur stops. Blinks one of his blinks. Gives his eyes another rub. Blinks again. He’s been doing that a lot, lately. This “blinking” thing.

“Oh.” He frowns.

Frowning right back, you push yourself to stand and toss some old papers from your table into the fire. “No need to seem so put off by it, gosh. Should’ve told me you were out for my head from the start. Would’ve made this a hell of a lot less embarrassing.” Disappointment had beat out the warmth.

You wait for an apology, or a joke. Or something. Anything. But you’re met with nothing. The paper eventually crumbles into nothing, too, smoke tickling your nostrils alongside the smell of rain.

His voice sounds from the back of the room.

“I didn’t say that.”

You whip around.

“Say what.”

He speaks as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn’t say I wasn’t. Interested, I mean.” When you point to yourself, he rolls his eyes. “No, the couch.”

There was no couch.

The two of you watch each other for a bit. Then Arthur finds another annoying spot on his thigh to rub at, and you’re watching him.

“You’re drunk,” you conclude, voice flat. You pull on a blanket, suddenly conscious of the bareness of your shoulders. “You’re drunk, or tired, or both. You weren’t here. I didn’t see you, you didn’t see me. Am I clear?”

You stand on wobbly feet and motion for him to leave.

“You don’t think I’m joking, do you? I meant what I said.” He brushes past your outstretched hand to clunk into the chair, mirroring that same awkward position you’d found yourself in earlier. Strong neck arched, fire light catching the water that’s begun to bead on his cheeks. “I don’t do charity. Don’t think I have the money for it, actually.”

“How kind of you.”

“I mean it. Truly.”

“Then come back tomorrow,” you blurt.

Fuck.

What the hell were you doing? “You come back tomorrow night, sober, and we’ll see.” No, we would not.

But it’s too late—Arthur is rebounding off of the chair, straightening out his jacket (he’s noticed the missing button, finally), and striding to the door before you can retract your mistake. Even so, you follow after him like a besotted moron, only stopping when he turns to face you once the door is back open.

“Tomorrow, then,” he says. Eyes dark. Searching.

And then he’s stooping down. Reaching for your hand. Pulling it to his dry lips, and pressing a chaste kiss right to the top of it. He chuckles when you shiver, still clutching the blanket tight around your shoulders.

You’re released soon after. And Arthur gives you one long look, tells you to lock your door, and leaves.

—

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strawwiibernyy · 4 months ago

Text

By The Sea - Nishimura R.

__________________

[Riki x Fem!Reader]

warnings! angst, cursing, suggestive-lime (for a very brief moment), abuse, alcohol, family issues, smoking.

words: 6,5k

╰┈➤ When you moved from Tokyo to the seaside, you didn’t expect to fall in love. Riki was strange and had a lot of faces. In a way, he reminded you of the sea. It can be stormy, but also calm. And very, very beautiful. [Inspo from the jmovie: Drowning Love 2016]

♪ Drowning Love - Chasing Kou by Penguin Piano ♪

__________________

"Mmh, I can already smell the ocean!" Your father said, taking a big sniff of the air around. His hands were gripping hard the wheel, turning from here and there. From how many turns this road had, you felt like throwing up.

However, you didn't say anything. You kept your headphones plugged to your ears, trying to forget.

Forget that from your perfect Tokyo life, they are forcing you to move to a small sea village. You lost your house, friends, and money. Now your everyday life wouldn't include parties, but your dad teaching you fishing.

"It's very beautiful here! Right, Y/N?" Your mother asked, but you didn't hear her. Or actually you did, yet pretended not to. Your gaze was out of the window, and you had to admit the scenery was unique.

After a while, you arrived at your grandfather's house. He was living alone all these years. Your grandmother left this world at a young age. You felt bad for your grandfather, your heart clenching at the elder's happiness to have you here.

"Oh, you grow up so much! You got taller than your mother!" He said, throwing his hands around you. A smile went up your lips, which was rare after you learnt the news.

"I missed you, grandpa."

"Oh, and the little one!" His eyes went on to your little brother, who was currently eating a cup of vanilla ice cream. Your grandfather went towards him, taking the young boy in his hands. "Come inside! I have already prepared the beds."

You began walking towards the small house, and your mother went next to you. She smiled, before whispering to you something. "After lunch, how about we take a walk around the village? Just us."

To be honest, you were thinking of going for a walk alone. You would rather to have your own peace and quiet while exploring the place, but you couldn't decline your mother. It would be safer with her too.

"Alright."

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

The smell of fish hit your nose as soon as you got out. It was windy today, and the ocean waves were rabid against the rocks surrounding it. All the houses around were small, most of them painted in white. Kids ran around, and people on their bicycles instead of cars.

You were wearing a white maxi skirt, along with a warm red tea, which was matching with your red bag. Back in Tokyo, you looked a lot into fashion. Here, everyone dressed with whatever they had in their closet.

"You will love it here. I am sure about it." Your mother said, walking with her hands crossed behind her back. You shrugged, focusing on the view instead of her.

"I always preferred towns over villages."

"Yes, because you had never visited a village." Her reply made you shut your mouth quickly, avoiding her eye contact.

You walked with your mother miles and miles until you stopped at a market. Your nose scratched from the strong seance of fish, but you didn't show your disgust to her.

"I need to buy some groceries. Can you wait for a couple of minutes?" She said, pulling out from her pocket some coins. You nodded at her, and she disappeared into the market.

Now you finally had the peace and quiet you needed. Thoughts filled your head on how the first grade of high school will go here. Your middle school life was perfect, and you could live an even better high school one there.

Yet now you weren't in Tokyo, and you had to realize it.

While you were looking around, letting your eyes explore the village, a boy caught your attention. He was tall with dyed blonde hair. You furrowed, wondering why he was allowed to dye them.

He seemed around your age, and the school didn't allow it. Or the schools here differ from how they were in Tokyo? You were watching him walking around with his hands in his pockets. He was going near the low stone wall which separated the sea and the village.

Suddenly, his eyes met yours. They were dark brown, but the sunlight turned them into honey-like. Now you saw his entire face, and he was more handsome than ever. Plump lips and clear skin decorated by a few moles.

Your eyes got wide once he pointed with his head the sea. His hands left his pockets and his legs rushed towards the stairs. It was now that you noticed the stairs that were leading to the sea. It sparkled your curiosity.

'I can go down too. Mom is at the market anyway.'

You clenched the handles of the bag, walking towards the stair. A doubt was still hidden in your chest. That boy could be dangerous. However, his eyes seemed innocent.

Small steps till down the last one. Your white ballerina shoes found the tiny stones. The ocean didn't have sand as you thought. The tiny stones got into your shoes as you began looking for the boy. It annoyed you.

Taking your ballerinas, you placed them near the stairs. Now your feet hurt even more, but you brushed it off.

And as the wind was hitting hard your face, even with narrowed eyes, you saw the boy. He was at the edge of a huge rock, looking down at the water.

He wore nothing but a simple white shirt and some baggy jeans. His shoes were down at the rocks, while his gaze remained firmly on the ocean under him.

'Don't tell me.'

The boy looked at you before jumping into the sea. Taking a big dive into the crystal waters. You jumped in your spot, furrowing your eyebrows at him. By the time passing, the waves were becoming more and more powerful. So why had he jumped?

Your legs moved on its own, running towards the rock. Too busy with the weird boy, you didn't even hear your phone ringing.

The rocks created like a stair that drove you in that same spot the boy was standing. However, you still needed to do some climbing. Standing there, you were battling with yourself to go or not.

Yes won, and your fingers wrapped around the rocks. You congratulated yourself for taking off your shoes, because you would slip otherwise. Deep breaths and trembling hands. You could easily fall off any second.

"Ah!" The edge of your skirt got stuck into some rocks, and the material got torn. You considered it as one of the most important items in your closet, and you tore it down.

All that for that boy.

At the edge of the rock, a chilly wind went by. You could see everything from up here. Where the ocean began and where it stopped. The numerous fishes swimming around the water. And the boy's face.

He wouldn't look at you, even if he was the one to take you here. His eyes were closed as he enjoyed the cold water tickling his skin. A smile was on his lips, feeling the chills of the thrill.

"Get out! It's dangerous!" The boy looked up once he heard your voice. Seeing you in that state excited him. Dirty clothes that were stuck on your body, your skirt torn at the edges, and your hair a mess. The cute high ponytail you had done was falling low against your shoulder.

He didn't reply. Instead, he gave you a smile, enjoying the water. You scoffed at how he ignored you, anger building up in your core.

You had to leave. But now you felt scared. The road till here seemed easier than going it down. Sitting down, you began dragging yourself towards the exit.

One foot, another one. You were doing good. Till you felt your right arm giving up. In seconds, you had lost all your balance. The thousand thoughts you had made now had disappeared, and your heart beat had raised high.

It was either you die, or have serious injuries. Why did you follow him? You shouldn't have followed that boy. Now you would walk back home with your mother, safe from everything else.

This village and its people were weird.

And as you were ready to hit into the rocks, a hand wrapped around your waist. It stopped your movement, raising you up on your feet instead. God didn't want you to die after all.

Or maybe, that boy in front of you was the one who wanted you alive.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

A week had passed since the incident. After the boy saved you, he went and jumped back into the sea. You tried to once again call out for him. Shouting warnings that he ignored.

When you returned home, you saw your upset parents running around. They were looking for you.

"Don't ever leave like that!" Your mother yelled, punching lightly your left arm. You excused your state, saying you went to see the sea. Not a single mention of the strange boy.

Today was your first day in high school.

You shared texts with your old friends, which you dreamed this day with. Even to them, you didn't talk about that crazy boy. After that day, you never saw him again.

Till today at least.

He was sitting in the back of the classroom, right next to the window. He was the only one with dyed hair, and you wondered why would he be the expectation. Was he something important?

"We also have a student that came from Tokyo. It is Y/L Y/N, right?" The teacher asked, and you raised your hand. You hated him for that. Starting your year here, you wanted to blend in with the others. But the teacher had made sure to divert you.

"From Tokyo?" — "I have heard people from Tokyo are very snob." — "Yes, she probably thinks she is better than us." — "But she is cute tho. How many days do you give me till I kiss her?"

Whispers from here and there. Some being hateful comments and some other from stupid boys who think they can have a change with you. Everyone was looking at you. All the attention was on you.

Expect from that boy's.

"Riki, don't you think she is pretty?" The boy who was sitting in front of him asked. Riki was still looking out of the window, not caring about your presence here.

You were anxious, thinking he might reveal your first meet with him. He finally turned his gaze away from the window, looking at his friend. You swallowed a hard knot down your neck, still waiting.

Your eyes met, and yours turned at the front. Yet, you didn't lose the smirk he gave you. "Nah, she is average. It's just that she is new here. Wait one week and none will remember her."

"Woah, there." His friend was left big-eyed by his harsh words. He turned towards you, giggling awkwardly. He hoped you hadn't heard Riki's words, but you had. And your heart dropped, messing up your mood for the rest of the day.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

The bell rang, indicating it was time for lunch. Placing your pink lunch box on your desk, your eyes wondered around. You didn't want to eat alone. Back in Tokyo, you had tons of friends to accompany you.

Now, none was glancing in your direction. They think you are prideful and rude because you come from Tokyo. But that wasn't true.

You wanted to meet everyone. Every single one of them. Even Nishimura Riki.

"Y/L, want to sit with us?" A girl patted your shoulder, and you turned around. She was a very petite girl, with short brown hair. You looked at where her finger was pointing to see another girl waving at you.

Those two girls were kind enough to accept you. Giving them a smile, you nodded eagerly your head. Their desk was at the back of the class, next to Riki's one.

While walking there, you noticed Riki didn't have food with him. He continued looking out of the window, pushing everyone who tried to talk to him. Like he did to you.

Your smile dropped, feeling pity for the blonde boy. Even if his behaviour was rude, you felt a thrill for him. A thrill where you hadn't even felt in Tokyo.

"Woah, Y/N! You eat very little." One of them said, her eyes wide while looking at your lunch box. People here were different. They didn't care about their appearance as much as in Tokyo. And honestly, you felt safer here.

"It's a lip gloss that has gone very viral, but I can't remember the brand."

"Oh, I want that too! But shops here for sure won't have it."

"I wish I lived in Tokyo instead, like Y/L. There I could find it everywhere and cheaper." The two girls began talking, the major topic of their conversation a lip gloss.

You couldn't even hear them as they explored the new trends in make-up. Your attention was on Riki. The boy had stood up, his gaze leaving the window. Then he looked at you before he ran out of the classroom.

It was just like one week ago at the sea. He had given you the same long gaze before disappearing. But, he always waited for you to catch up to him.

The same thing happened today. You soon found yourself chasing after him. The girls behind you were frozen in place, confused about where you were going. They probably wouldn't talk to you again after that. Yet you had to follow Riki.

He was standing outside of the classroom's door, waiting for you. When he heard your panting, he began running again. And you both ran and ran among the other students. Till he arrived at his destination.

There was a lake. Hidden between the wide leaves of the trees, just behind the school. Riki sat in front of the lake. His legs crossed against his chest, and then he placed his hands on his knees. You copied his position, sitting next to him.

It was peaceful. The waters flowed very fast, but they were calm. Small red fishes swam around, splashing a few drops of water on you. Giggles left your mouth, and Riki turned to look at you.

You didn't look back, even if you could feel his eyes on you. Instead, you leaned forward to splash water on the fishes. More giggles left your mouth when the fishes quickly swam away, scared of the human hand.

"You really are weird." Riki whispered, his eyebrows furrowed. Your smile didn't drop at his mean remark. You turned towards him, and your head went to rest on your hands.

"Well, aren't you also?" Riki's stone cold expression stayed the same. Expect of his parted lips, taking in your beautiful futures. He licked them, coating them with his glittering saliva.

"You don't get to call me weird, Tokyo girl."

"My name is Y/N Y/L, not Tokyo girl."

"Alright Tokyo girl." You puffed your cheeks at him, while he seemed to enjoy angering you. A small smirk sat on his face, and your expression changed. Your cheeks started heating up, and you turned your head to the other side.

"You are seriously annoying."

"Not as much as you."

"Shut up!" You replied, and you both started laughing. And the sound of his laugh was everything you needed. It sent shivers down your spine, and you felt his laugh in every inch of your skin.

You were already falling in love with him.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

One month in the village and you had forgotten about Tokyo. Because Tokyo didn't have Riki.

"Wait, Riki!" You shouted, trying to run as fast as you could with your sandals. On the other hand, the boy was laughing at you. He was landing from rock to rock, while your road to catch up to him was still too long.

The destination was that sea, where you and Riki met for the first time. The air had still the same smell of salt and fish. It was like you could see that day replaying in your mind.

"Come and catch me, Tokyo girl!" He was at the edge of the rock, his back turned to the sea. Your eyes got big, predicting his next move. You didn't want to dive into the sea. It scared you.

"Riki, I am not going in!" You informed him, and he giggled. He was waiting for you instead of jumping. His hands opened wide, and a smirk on his face.

"Riki?" You whispered, finally standing in front of him. One month here and your style had changed. In Tokyo, you only wore skirts. Now your legs were covered in blue shorts.

When Riki saw your shorts, he smirked wide. Nothing had prepared you for his next words. "Better now, the other times with those skirts of yours, I could see your panties. Not that I am complaining-"

"Riki!" You shouted, becoming red from embarrassed. He was at the edge of the rock, and you found your change for revenge. Your hands pushed his chest as hard as they could, throwing him in the water.

However, your plan failed when his open arms wrapped around your body. A scream left your mouth, falling in the water along with the boy. You were afraid of the sea, but his strong hug comforted you.

"Ah, h-help." Riki was deep in the water, while your head had come to the surface. In such deep waters, you couldn't swim. You thew your hands here and there, but the water dragged you down.

"R-riki!" Your mouth had filled with water, and Riki was still underneath the waves. Your heart beat raised and your hands became numb. You had reached your limit.

Until Riki finally appeared. Wrapping his hands around your waist, he pushed your body up along with him. Your hands flew to his shoulders and repeated coughs escaped your lips.

Riki even noticed your red eyes. Probably tears of fear. How could you be so dump? He was just joking. But he admitted that he didn't know you couldn't swim.

"Stop laughing!" You cried out at the laughing boy, hitting his shoulders. "I hate you!"

"Huh?" Riki smirked, perceiving your words as a challenge. You stopped moving, noticing Riki's eyes falling on your lips. It was now that you realized how close your faces were. Your eyes got wide, and a pink shade painted your fluffy cheeks.

"I bet you do, Tokyo girl." Riki crashed his lips on yours. Salt mixing with his and your saliva. You had imagined so many times how his lips would feel. They always looked so plump and moist. Each time he licked them, sinful thoughts crossed your head.

And now they were becoming reality. His hands brought you closer and your lips parted in surprise. When he found the change, he tried to slip his tongue in. However, you wouldn't allow this that soon.

"R-riki!" Your hands pushed on his chest, breaking the kiss. His hands were still around your waist, worried to let you go. But he would never admit this, not even to himself.

Because he didn't deserve to be loved by a person like you.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

"You are a monster!" The drunk man yelled, throwing a bottle right at his child's trembling body. Fortunately, Riki was able to dodge it. However, the tiny pieces of glass that exploded when it fell on the floor went back to him.

A scream left the young boy's mouth. Looking at his skeleton-like arm, a piece had pierced his skin, blood running down his white clothes. The words from his father's mouth replayed in his mind.

'You are a monster. You are a monster. You are a monster.'

He was a monster.

"You killed my wife! Now I am alone because of you!" He had drank a lot. The smell of alcohol from his breath was enough strong to hit Riki's nose, who was meters away from him.

He was talking nonsense. His mother died right after she birthed Riki. The child knew deep down that it wasn't his fault, but his father's words were too powerful.

He was trying to think instead his grandmother's words. She had taken him for the first four years of his life because of his father's depression and alcoholism. However, after she died, the kid was left alone.

Not having any other relative alive, he ended up with his father. None knew the man's true face. Neither cared to learn it, since he was sitting all the time in his home.

"Ah, that's it. Go away, now!" He placed his hand on his chest, panting. He had gotten tired, but Riki whished he would die instead. The kid was only five when he began praying for his father's death. Maybe after that, there would be good people who would adopt him.

Anything to get away from him.

Yet now he is sixteen, and the man is still alive. Riki returns home at midnight, when his father is sleeping. Until then, he wonders around. School or not, he always stands up early.

He wanted friends. He really wanted some. But who in their right mind would want a monster like him?

Oh, he had forgotten about you.

"Riki!" You shouted, your usual dumb smile decorating your face. He was sitting on a road near your house. It was rare to see him out of the sea, but you didn't mind. You liked the sea only because it reminded you of Riki.

"Again you."

"Yes." You said, showing off your teeth. However, the smile dropped when you noticed what he was holding. "Wait, you smoke?"

"Sometimes. But don't tell anyone. Let it be our secret, alright?" Riki smirked, leaning closer to your face. But, you pushed yourself away once you saw the smoke exiting his mouth.

"I, um, I have to ask you something." Suddenly, your cheeks became red. You looked down at your lap, playing with your fingers. Riki could sense what was coming, and he smirked at your nervousness.

"Um, are we dating?"

"No." He replied, leaving you wide-eyed. The cigarette touched again his skin, and his mouth wrapped around it. Taking a big sip, he left the grey smoke to fill his lungs.

"Then why did you kiss me?" You asked, dragging yourself closer to him to make him face you. His eyes watched the endless road, not caring about your flustered state.

"Because I felt like it."

"And what? You kiss any girl with whom you feel you like it?!" Riki threw his cigarette down. Then the same hand which held his cigarette gripped the right side of your face. Now he was finally facing you. But his face was too close, like the time he had kissed you.

"What does it matter? Do you like me?" His words left you frozen in place. This boy had no shame. Your eyes left his, locking down on the road again. "Reply to me."

"And If I did, then what?" You replied, puffing your cheeks. A giggle escaped from Riki's mouth at your cuteness. No, he shouldn't. You were a caring and a sensitive girl. He was a monster.

"Then you should stop because nothing will happen." He said, turning back to the front. Images of what your face could look like right now filled his mind. He was trying to shake them away, but he couldn't.

His eyes popped wide open when he heard your silent sobs.

You were crying. Because of him. Because he rejected you. It was the first time someone was crying for him, and Riki felt happy. He was ignoring you, being mean to you, so why would you?

"Are you dumb?" His one hand went again on your face, and his finger squeezed your cheeks together. You were crying, and he was enjoying it. It was the first time you had seen him smirk that wide.

"Leave me alone!" You tried to push Riki's wrist away, but his hand stayed firm on your face. His eyes went to your hand that was wrapped around his. He grew to like your touch.

"Riki! I said take your hand away-" His hug cut you off. Riki brought your face to his chest, and before you could leave, his hands wrapped around you. "W-what?" You whispered, his hands bringing you closer to him.

"Only for a minute." He said when you went to pull away. "Only for little." Riki repeated, and your hands hesitantly wrapped around his figure. He was saying all those things to you before, and now he was acting so affectionately.

This wasn't the Riki you had met. This was the real one. The real Nishimura Riki.

You both stayed like this for longer than a minute. The roads were empty, and the sun was going down. It felt like it was only the two of you in this world.

Riki and you. But this wouldn't last for long.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

It was afternoon. Riki had promised to wait for you by the sea, but he wasn't there. You had even packed snacks for him, because he didn't eat a lot. You wondered why his mother didn't pack lunch for him. Yet it doesn't matter, he has you.

You knocked on his door. It was embarrassing for you to go around and ask where the Nishimuras lived, but you did. And now you were standing outside of Riki's door. None was answering, and you didn't have his contact too.

"Y-yes?" Finally, someone opened the door. It was a man, most likely his father. He was extremely skinny with facial hair. His voice was deep, like he had just woken up.

Maybe after all, it was a bad idea for you to come here.

"I am sorry if I am annoying you, but is Riki here?" From the moment he opened the door, he seemed out of it. His eyes were barely open, and his thin legs were too weak to hold up his body. However, when he heard his son's name, something woke up in him.

"That damn kid. Why would anyone want to see that kid?!" He suddenly started yelling, making you jump in fear. You took some steps back, but he walked closer to you either way.

"I am sorry, I am going now-"

"He is a monster! None loves him!" The man grabbed your right shoulder, his nails digging into your skin. It was the first time you felt that frightened. That man couldn't be his father.

But this also explained a lot. Why he never missed school, and why he never had lunch. And why he never went home.

And as he was about to hit you, a hand stopped him.

"Riki?" The blonde boy grabbed his father's hand, pushing him behind. His weak body fell on the floor, and Riki went to sit on top of him. He landed punches on him. On his father.

"Riki stop! Riki!" After you saw the sensitive Riki, now you were seeing the violent Riki. He had gotten so mad, his eyes were glittering. The punches wouldn't stop. He was getting out of hand.

"I said stop!" You rushed in between them. Riki had turned into an animal, into a real monster. Until he stopped when he locked eyes with you. His hand, which was first shaped into a punch, fell to his side.

And then, he grabbed your wrist. He left his father behind, screaming at you and Riki to come back. However, you had already run fast enough for his voice to fade.

Riki took you to the most special place, the sea. You didn't know why none came here to swim in such crystal waters. It was always you and Riki. Like this place was an imaginary one to your minds.

That day, he cried on your shoulder. He cried because he wasn't able to protect you; he cried that he was born into a family like that. He cried because whatever he did, he can never protect you.

And not protect you from his father, but from him.

Riki kissed you, and his tears sat on your lips. They were hot and salty, mixing with your own ones. At times like this, you needed each other's touch. It was your only comfort.

He took you to his storage. It was a small room in Riki's garden. There were gardening tools, but because none had used them in a while, they were covered in dust.

Your eyebrows frowned when you saw a small bed. You looked at Riki, whose eyes hadn't left you all this time you were looking around. "That's where you sleep?"

"Yes." He simply replied, stepping closer to you. Riki came so close that you could feel his hot breath hitting your neck. It tickled you, and you took some steps back.

"It's nice." You said, trying to break the ice. Your cheeks had started to heat up and your hands were sweaty. Riki came closer and closer. Until he pushed you into the bed.

Riki began kissing you roughly, slipping his tongue in your mouth. You felt something new build up in your body. Something good and warm, but it bothered you.

"I think I can help you with that." Riki smirked, marking your collarbone with his teeth. A sigh left your mouth at the new feeling, and your eyes closed.

That night, Riki drowned you in hugs and kisses. He kissed every little inch of your body, every scar and curve. It made you feel good and loved. You wanted to feel that thrill that Riki gave you every day. From head to toe.

After you finished, you adjusted your clothes and you exited the storage room. Riki had offered to walk you home, and a smile creeped your lips. He was so sweet. And only with you.

Yet, Riki was different when he got you home. You had both stopped at the front door, and he wouldn't let you leave. Every time you would try to walk away, he grabbed your wrist to pull you back.

"Riki, what has gotten into you?" He placed some strands of your hair behind your ear, and his lips went to your lips. He had given you all the love he had left inside his heart. But now, he was empty.

"Y/N, thank you." He said, and you furrowed.

"W-what do you mean?" You shuttered, noticing the emotion behind his eyes. He was sad. Was that because of what had happened with his father? Though seconds ago he was fine.

"Promise me you won't let that cheesy smile of yours fade?" His hand was caressing softly your cheek, and you felt like crying.

"W-why do you say all those things suddenly?"

"Just promise me." A sigh left your mouth, giggling.

"I promise." Riki smiled, and his hand pulled you into yet another kiss. This one was soft and long compared to his usual ones.

"Goodnight Riki!" You jumped away from his hands, walking back into your house.

"Goodbye, Y/N."

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

The next day, Riki did not attend school. You watched the class' door, waiting for him to enter. But he never did.

"Do you know where Riki is?" You asked the boy who was sitting in front of him. You knew Riki didn't have friends, but the cheerful boy seemed to talk to him from time to time.

"You haven't heard? His father died at midnight. None knows where he is. He is probably grieving." Your eyes popped open at the news. Riki had told you that his father was not good, but he didn't mention that he actually had serious health problems.

"W-what? None knows where he is?"

"No." The boy replied, scratching the back of his neck. "The only thing we know is that his father motorbike misses. Now, I don't know if Riki was the one to take it."

The boy continued talking about nonsense you couldn't even hear. Your ears were ringing, thinking about yesterday. All those kisses, and all those promises. He knew.

He knew his father was going to die soon, and he was planning his escape.

Without you.

You started to run outside of the school. The teacher was yelling at you to come back, but his voice soon faded. Rushing towards the exit, you made your way outside. There were still a few students left talking about the same topic.

"I heard his son knew he would die and didn't ask for a doctor."

"He let his father die? How cruel."

"If I was his father, I would have drowned him at the cursed sea." The group of students started laughing. They were laughing at Riki's imaginary death.

They didn't know. None of them did. How his father abused him every day, and he was forced to sleep in a small storage. He hardly had a meal per day, and he was always wondering on the roads.

Wait, cursed sea? You went towards the group, joining them.

"What do you mean by cursed sea?" You gripped one of the male's shoulder. The students got surprised, seeing a crying girl suddenly join them like that.

"Um, you don't know? Everyone knows in our village that the Gods cursed the sea under the fish market. None swims there."

None expect Riki. And you. It wasn't fair; you had no idea. Riki knew about the cursed sea, but he didn't believe in things like that. Yet in a moment like this, it sounded true in your ears.

"Riki is innocent!" You blurted out, tears running down your cheeks like a river. "You have no idea how his father was, so why do you judge him?! He deserved to die, Riki deserves to live!"

The group was left with open mouths at your break down. Your mascara had dripped down your eyes, but the tears were so many that they cleared the stains. You felt like you couldn't breathe, and you clenched the cloth which was protecting your heart.

"Riki is good. You don't get to judge him! Get him out of your shitty mouths!" And after that, you ran and ran at the cursed sea.

It was the sea's fault. If you and Riki hadn't swum there, now you could be in his arms. He would trail kisses down your neck. And then, you would talk to him about your life in Tokyo, and he would listen. He always did.

You rushed down the stairs, but fell down on the last step. Your chin started bleeding, and your uniform teared. Maybe he is here. You were sure that he was swimming right now, forgetting his worries.

"Riki!" You screamed at the top of your lungs. Now he would come and save you. The tiny rocks underneath pierced your skin, and your blood painted some of them red.

You had to stand up. Go find him. He was here. You were sure he was here.

"Riki!" You screamed once again, hoping he will appear. The tears couldn't stop, all the memories coming like light in your mind. Your hands got shaped into fists, pushing on the hard ground.

'Why can't I stand up?'

"Why I can't fucking stand up?!" A female worker from the market heard your voice and walked down the stairs. Her jaw fell open when she saw you laying on the ground.

"Miss, are you alright?" She rushed down and leaned on your level. Putting her knees on the ground, she came face to face with you. That's when she noticed your red eyes, crying for your lover.

"No." You choked on your sob. "No, I am not."

After that she took you to the hospital. You had fallen unconscious from how much you were crying. They put you in the room ten, and you stayed there for a day.

Your mom was worried, your dad was worried. Everyone was worried. Yet your mind could only think of Riki. He had left you alone to chase his dream.

You didn't belong in his dream. But he belonged to yours.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*One year later*

"It's summer. Do you think Riki might visit?" The brown-haired girl asked, sipping her orange juice. It was lunchtime, and you were sitting with her outside of school. There were some stone stairs next to the sinks. None was sitting there.

After Riki left, you wouldn't leave your bed. You were in a serious state, and when you returned to school, you were sure none would want to talk to you. None but the girl next to you. Your only friend after Riki.

"No, I don't think so." You replied, a smile creeping your lips. Every time someone mentioned Riki's name, you couldn't help the smile on your lips. A sad one, but still a smile. A better reaction than the one you had a year ago, at least.

"And? Are you happy about it?" She asked when she noticed your smile. At first she hesitated to talk to you about him, now though she had grown courage.

You weren't over him. You will never be. But at least you remembered him as a beautiful memory and not a painful one. Giggles left your mouth when you heard her question. The respond too obvious.

"Of course not. He was my first love, after all." Your legs were swinging back and forth, the smile never leaving your lips. "You know, he had told me a lot of times how much he wanted to leave. I thought he would get me too, but it's alright."

"Maybe it's better that way." You blurted out your deepest thoughts. She was the first person to hear them. "If he had taken me with him, it would be way harder for him to move on. I couldn't heal him, so I hope he can heal by himself."

"One last question." She said, biting her lower lip. "Why do you always sit by the sea? You know it's cursed, right?"

Your smile got wider, eager to reply to her last question. A laugh escaped your mouth at the thought of Riki hearing this. Oh, he would laugh at her face.

"Because he did. He loved sitting by the sea. If he returns, this will be the first place he will visit."

"And what if he never does?"

He won't come. You knew that. You had thought about such a day for this entire year, but it was only a fantasy.

"Then I will go find him."

__________________

A/N: I kinda wanted to end this with Riki coming back to get her. But I left it like this for more angst.

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small-sinclair · 2 months ago

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Whumptober 10: Blow to the Head

Injured!Johnny Slaughter x nurse!reader

Tw: blood, Johnny being a bit softer than normal

Passed out from Pain

Johnny limped sluggishly down the beaten path back, tracking down your steps and small drops of blood. He had to hand it to that friend of yours—they got him pretty good with a piece of glass in his side. Johnny managed to pull it out of his body, but the pain was started to build up until his vision was becoming blurry and each step grew heavier. He felt as if he was hit by a car or some type of train on the tracks he hears at night.

Johnny leaned against a base of a tree to support himself, and blood fell from his fingers like a waterfall. His head was pounding from a punch that one of your friends threw, and his feet began to drag. His chest was littered with small cuts and bruises, and it began to sting as he pushed off the tree and continued to follow your steps. He felt like a slug as he came closer to the shed at the end of the path, and he felt a weak smile grow when he heard you pushing back into the wood—

He hisses in pain as he fell to a knee. His legs finally caved under him and the pain in his side throbbed throughout his body. He looked up blankly at the shed and saw your outline standing in front of him. You were gripping a shovel tightly until your knuckles turned white. Under different circumstances, he would be impressed that you want to fight him and would amuse the idea of a good scrap, but he was losing too much blood, and the pain was building to the point of being unbearable. When he looked into your eyes, he knew you that you were figuring out that he was too weak to do anything.

The hunter became the hunted. He was at your mercy, and there was nothing he could do about it besides try and fight. He would end up losing, though, and he knows it. Besides being hurt and the pain growing through his bones like ivy on the side of a house, he hasn’t eaten in days. Meat has become low, causing him to be unable to eat. As much as wanted to eat and have something, his family had food first. He hates to admit it, but he’s a family man. He would rather see his family grow while he sits back. The old man’s cooking wasn’t as good as he praised it to be, Nancy took charge in taking care of Grandpa, Sissy’s sicker than a dog, and Bubba and Nubbins eat like there’s nothing there.

As much as Johnny hates it, he eats later. If there’s any scraps, he’ll take them like a stray dog in a back alley.

Starving and in pain...he really was a battered dog.

He forced himself off his knee, sluggishly trying to move from the ground, but failed.

You watched with uncertainty as he fell back to the ground, and your nursing kicked in. You didn’t go to med-school just to stand by and watch someone in pain and injured. You took a promise, a code, to help those hurt. Your family always said that you were a caretaker, so being a nurse was a good spot for you. At first, you were ready to fight him and hit him with the rusted shovel you found in the shed, but seeing the state that he’s in, bleed profusely from his side and beaten by someone in your friend group, something else clicked. Was it something in his dark brown eyes, which were screaming in pain? Or was it the empathy you felt for his pain, knowing that even giving him a hand he would kill you with his bare hands?

Win or lose, the house always wins.

Johnny stood on his feet and wavered between his weights and thoughts. He wanted to shout at you to stay away from him as soon as he felt himself falling backwards. He felt himself wanting to fight, needing to survive against you. He was being hunted now; an easy kill for you to avenge your friends.

You dropped the shovel when he tried to stand on his feet but stumbled back and nearly fell on the bed of rocks. You caught him and gently lowered him to the ground until his head was resting on your lap. Instinctively, his hands held on to your arms as you lowered him down, dropping his knife. His brown eyes began to water as his skin stretched and ripped, making him wince in your hold. He couldn’t think straight as he looks up into your eyes as the sunlight got caught in your hair, tangled in a sweet and bitter web of care and fear. Johnny found himself relaxing in your hold as his eyes began to roll. The pain in his side was getting to the point where he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

His eyes shot open when he saw your hand reaching down.

“Wait, don’t,” he silently begs, his words too slurred. “Don’t.” Johnny’s eyes then widen as your hand thumbed away blood from his lips. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, craving it more.

You then ripped a piece of your shirt off and began to apply pressure to the wound on his side. “Stay still, okay? Can you tell me your full name?”

“Johnny Sawyer,” he answers, breathing out his name. “’M Johnny.”

Your hand smoothed back his hair, brushing away the strains from his eyes. The long, jagged scar over his eye stood out like a nail, and you traced it lightly with yuor finger tips. He shivers but leans in; he felt himself begging to pass out. “I’ll stay here with, Johnny,” you promised. “I’ll try to help you.”

He shakes his head. “Y’all kill me.”

“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve let you fall backwards,” you stated as if it was a fact, and it was. If you didn’t have obligations to treat those who are hurt, you would’ve used the rusted part of the shovel’s head to take off his head! “I won’t hurt you, Mr. Sawyer. I promise.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His eyes lulled and rolled, passing out to the inter throbbing in his bones and under his skin.

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rosypenguins · 4 months ago

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Day 13! Jomies Headcanons! (I got quite a few!)

Jake:

💛Unironically listens to boy bands.

💛Has Spotify open 24/7. Is always looking for new artists and songs, and probably has over 3000 songs liked.

💛He’ll listen to any song of any genre, but tends to lean more towards alt-rock.

💛Used to listen to Billie Eilish in Middle School.

💛Whenever it’s too quiet, he’ll either hum to himself or make random noises with his mouth.

💛Physically incapable of standing still.

💛Probably ate an eraser as a kid.

💛Does not believe in closets. Keeps his clothes either on the floor or in his chair. (If it’s in his closet he’ll genuinely forget he even owns the item.)

💛”Processing your emotions? What the hell’s that?”

💛Oh yeah, he definitely has ADHD.

Drew:

🖤Really likes FPS games.

🖤Always has to have his weight shifted on one leg. He cannot stand up straight to save his life. (Heh cuz he’s gay-)

🖤Small waist. (He’s a twink in my eyes.)

🖤Could probably be picked up by the other Jomies. (Has yet to be tested due to safety concerns.) (The concerns being Drew beating the shit out of them.

🖤Doesn’t like black coffee but drinks it anyways. (Why? We don’t know.)

🖤TERRIBLE eating habits. He’ll literally just have a piece of toast and be like “welp that’ll last me for the next 48 hours.”

🖤Those hot-pink girly desserts are his guilty pleasure.

🖤Listens to a lot of rap music. Mostly emo rap. He says it’s cuz it sounds cooler but it’s actually because he finds the lyrics relatable.

🖤Stalks Jake’s instagram for purely platonic reasons.

🖤Doesn’t know how to show affection so he’ll sometimes just randomly punch Jake in the arm. No warning, no explanation.

🖤Cat person. Doesn’t really like dogs. (Terrified of Oreo but would rather die than admit it.)

🖤Bullies cats relentlessly, but will also meow back at them if he thinks no one’s around.

🖤Likes being cuddled way more than he’d like to admit.

🖤Having his hair played with puts him right to sleep.

🖤Struggled to make friends in Elementary school due to his temper. (His lack of attention at home led to him lashing out a lot.) Other kids found him to be intimidating so Drew didn’t really have any friends until Middle School.

🖤Was put in time-out a LOT in Kindergarten so it basically just became Drew’s Corner.

🖤IPad kid. Definitely had a mascot-horror phase when he was 10.

🖤“Processing your emotions? What the hell’s that?”

🖤Oh yeah, BPD. He has BPD.

Liam:

❤️Hands are always fucking clammy it cannot be helped.

❤️Definitely listens to Breakcore.

❤️Has a bunch of those weird, perverted anime stickers somewhere in his desk drawer because he thinks they’re funny. (They were included in a random anime sticker pack Henry bought online.)

❤️Had a super edgy werewolf OC back in Middle School. Drawings of it still exist in that same drawer.

❤️Lets Henry play with his hair when they’re alone together.

❤️Refuses to use chairs properly.

❤️Has so many 0.5 photos of the Jomies. (Except Drew because Drew threatened to break his phone if he ever took one of him. But Liam still managed to sneak a few bad photos of Drew as well.)

❤️Type of guy to moan when someone’s on the phone with their parent.

❤️Knows how to drive a manual. (I imagine his mom’s car is an older one soooooo if Liam wanted to drive around he had to learn.)

Henry:

💚Baby face. (Liam likes to hold his face.)

💚Wears anime merch with pride.

💚Pretends to be a girl online sometimes so people give him free shit.

💚Almost always hits Drew with the 🤓 emoji anytime he says something smart/logical in their group chat.

💚Would definitely like matcha because it tastes like g r a s s.

💚He ate grass as a kid. And leaves. And dirt.

💚The type of kid that always had to be the dog in any game he played.

💚Really likes bunnies. He held one once and felt his life was complete.

💚Oh, and frogs too. He loves frogs.

💚Typically takes the role of mediator during fights, even if he has no context on the situation.

💚Relies way too much on being funny. If a joke doesn’t land he genuinely hates himself for a couple seconds.

💚Sensitive to loud noise. (Unless the loud noise is on his terms.) (Like, he’ll have his music on full blast and shout at his friends standing right next to him and be completely fine, but if a balloon were to suddenly pop right beside him, it’d startle him quite a bit.)

💚Drew glaring at him and telling him to shut up hurts a little more than he’d like to admit.

💚Probably also has ADHD.

Zoey:

🩷This bitch knows how to steal shit. You got a necklace she likes she will find a way to take it.

🩷Can and will find a way to make everything said against her about her gender.

🩷“Oh my God, I am LITERALLY just a girl.”

🩷Definitely took dance for a P.E credit.

🩷Almost everything she owns is covered in flowers.

🩷Everything has to be aesthetic.

🩷Always had to initiate any sort of affection between her and Drew. She was always the one asking him out. Always the one to kiss him first, or reach for his hand. (Whereas Drew never really thought about that sort of stuff.)

🩷Her views on relationships were also very different from Drew’s. She wanted excitement and fun. She wanted to go out and do things. And whenever they were home alone, she wanted to make out with him and stuff, meanwhile, all Drew wanted to do was cuddle and watch stupid videos on his phone with her. (But she just found that boring.)

🩷Honestly, their best dates were their at-home ones. Where they’d watch movies together and Zoey would bring some face masks and they’d pamper each other and cuddle and whatnot. (Fun for Zoey and relaxing for Drew.)

🩷And because of their height difference, Zoey would sometimes grab Drew’s collar and pull him down to her level to kiss him. (And this definitely never once flustered Drew.)

🩷Probably knew Drew cared more about Jake than he did her and that pissed her off.

Lia:

💜Big fan of Olivia Rodrigo. (And one time, while her and Drew were waiting for the others after school, she was listening to one of her songs and singing along, and Drew ended up correcting her on a lyric, causing her to realize he ALSO listens to her music, and he was super embarrassed about it afterwards and made her promise not to tell anyone.)

💜So anyways Lia now wants to take Drew to an Olivia Rodrigo concert.

💜She’s also a big fan of Nessa Barrett.

💜Surprisingly really good at singing. She never took lessons or anything, she just sings in the shower a lot.

💜Sprays perfume on herself like 50 times in a day.

💜Always comparing herself to people online.

💜“Self-esteem? What’s that?”

💜Genuinely could not describe herself if she was asked to. She’s so used to changing herself for others she doesn’t even know who she is or what she wants to be.

💜Imposter Syndrome 100%

💜Had a huge crush on Hailey in Middle School but didn’t even know being gay was a thing so she didn’t really know how to explain her feelings at all.

@31days-of-freakblr

#tmf #the music freaks #freakblr #tmf headcanons #tmf jomies #tmf jake #tmf drew #tmf liam #tmf henry #tmf zoey #tmf lia

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changingplumbob · 2 months ago

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Boy oh boy this has been a long one! Sorry it's taken so long. Rotation 9 began all the way back on March 20th which means it's taken me around six and a half months to get through everyone. During this time I have also been plagued by a bad IBS flare up that leaves me fatigued so my guess is that's why things took much longer than normal.

While all households collectively aged a year and three quarters when you put it all together we've lived through 17 and a half years of sim time for a total of 70 sim days. Thank you for joining me on the journey! I'm going to be taking the rest of the month of October off from long form writing while I build SBL back up and engage in Simblreen antics. Rotations and Growing with Glenn will start back up in November.

Now, on to the noteworthy stuff! Main points followed by chapter summaries below the cut. Time to celebrate my sims achievements!

Five Sims Promoted - One max career!

Nine Skills Maxed

Eight New Builds

Seven Birthdays

One Wedding

Four Household Adoptions

York Household, Chapter 9

Calista and Aaron made their first nectar but mostly they were in parent/grandparent mode. Deanna was dumped by Paris and had a bad bug but still passed her first term of university. The youngest York aged up, realised they were trans, and she has renamed herself Artemisia, or Emi or Emisia to her friends and family.

2. Chopra Household, Chapter 6

Rahul worked from home all week to help with his young family. Mercedes and Savannah aged up to children and have started school. Savannah is still feeling the effects of her motor delay while Mercedes may have a speech delay but turns out to be gifted. Viola aged up into a wild toddler and the household is due another shake up as Cassandra discovered she is pregnant for the third time!

3. Romero Household, Chapter 1

Marta helped her fiance Keira learn about Dia de los Muertos as they paid respect to those in the forever save who couldn't attend the wedding. Keira began her job at the Marine Life Institute and Marta met some of her neighbours after barista shifts. Then the couple were married at Willow Creek church and honeymooned in Sulani. They are currently looking at options for having kids.

4. Pancakes Household, Chapter 9

Eliza got promoted to level 9 of the corporate career. She and Bob decided that rather than have another pregnancy they would adopt so infant Tiana joined the family. Ginger got another fur sibling as dog Strawberry joined the household. Fergus aged up to a materialistic teen and after a week of working on their grades and cheer skills Onyx finally got their horse, named Maelstrom.

5. New Goth Household, Chapter 4

Alexander and Milton retrieved Bella's old journals for Milton to begin reading, and the family celebrated Harvestfest with the Chopras. Alexander and James talked about having kids, and James admitted he would like to adopt a teen rather than having an infant. Milton went through a bear phase and Ariadne was adopted by the couple.

6. Villareal Household, Chapter 6

Joey released his first video game and became a one star celebrity. Devin filmed a pirate film and her regular TV series. Luna spent most of her time trying to patch things up between her younger brother Max and his wife. Alfred broke many dollhouses and Rilian got a kiddie pool to play in.

7. Nishidake Household, Chapter 7

It was a speedrun for this family but both Charlie and Kaori have finally reached the rock climbing skill needed to attempt to make it to the mountain summit. Clover learned to not eat trash but continued to knock the bin over for fun.

8. Woods Household, Chapter 2

The murder mystery took a backseat this time. The couple met the Moonwood Collective and Samir ranked up to a Veteran werewolf. Reece started his biology degree and hosted some meditation sessions. The pair have also discovered they are fated mates.

9. Knightstone Household, Chapter 9

It was festive season for the aliens in Chestnut Ridge. While Adam worked on his skills angling for that final promotion he managed to publish three books. Suzanna had a tough time with coworker Faye but reached a truce for the sake of their careers. She also finished a third collection, the My Sims trophy collection. Silas grew closer with fellow aliens Ruth and Tyree and showed off a Red Coral at show and tell. Pollock aged from an infant into a toddler and continued to learn.

10. Foster Household, Chapter 9

Winter ended in Sulani. Harvey managed to get promoted but didn't catch any new types of fish this time. Kayleigh sold enough paintings to become a global Superstar and was our first sim to reach the top of her career! The focus was mainly on Carson who was navigating a crush while figuring out his identity as an asexual. Clumsy flirting eventually led to him officially being Ariadne's boyfriend though.

Woah that was a lot huh? I need to rearrange my navigation for this save before rotation 11 starts but any pressing thoughts? Any bits you loved or hated? How was the new bold and colour coded dialogue? Did it make it any easier to follow when multiple people were talking? Any things you wish will or won't happen next time?

#sims 4 #the sims #simblr #my sims #ts4 #active simblr

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iblameashley · 10 months ago

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A - to - Z's of Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Made a similar list for Konig a while back, figured it was time for Simon / Ghost. This list is hella gay, FYI.

!!!!NSFW!!!!

A - Aftercare

Simon / Ghost cares a great deal about aftercare regardless if its a one-night stand or a longer term relationship. It will always start with asking how you're doing and what you liked and what you didn't. He'll make sure you're actually okay before he'll ask if you need anything else; water, food or a shower. Though he still struggles with requests for cuddles. Its very intimate for him, but if he likes you, he'll give you a bone crushing cuddle.

B - Body part (their favourite)

Stomach. Simon / Ghost likes guys with a bit of belly fat, something soft and preferably hairy. It's so different from his toned body, and though he'd never admit it to you, it makes him feel happy and calm just laying on it.

C - Cum (anything)

Generally speaking his cum is rather neutral in taste, a hint of salt. But its thick and hot, and he shoots long ropes of it when he cums. Refuses to jerk off while on long missions because he wants to 'save it all' for you.

You don't have to worry about overstimulating him either, he'll do it happily himself until he empties his balls inside you. You'll feel his cock head throbbing inside you as he whimpers and trembles on top of you.

D - Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Really wants to eat your ass out after he's cum in it, but is afraid you'll be disgusted by it and refuse.

E - Experience (how experienced are they?)

On a scale of Virgin Pure – Barracks Bunny? He's a solid 'Took the bloke from the pub home'. He's not adverse to having sex; in fact, he loves it... its the intimacy that people tend to want that freaks him out. Simon / Ghost doesn't know how to reciprocate (or so he tells himself). But he's more than happy to get his rocks off if he fancies a man.

F - Favourite position

Generally speaking, as long as he's on top, he's happy. He loves looking down at your handsome face or even the back of your head as he takes you. That being said, Simon / Ghost is also a big fan of you on your knees. The way you look up at him with his cock in your mouth? Fuck... drives him wild.

G - Goofy (Serious of Humorous)

During sex, this man is on a mission. You are both going to have a good time, even if it kills him. BUT, after sex? After you're thoroughly pleased and unable to walk? This man will treat you to the worst jokes in his shitty-joke roster and there is nothing you can do to escape it.

H - Hair (Body / Groomed / Color)

Dirty-bond / Sandy hair in tufts between his pectorals that runs down his abdomen and into this pants. Keeps his pubes trimmed (but never shaved!) Its incredibly soft, too because Simon / Ghost takes care of his hair.

His ass has a nice dusting that trails down into surprisingly hairy legs. Oddly though, has almost no arm-hair at all.

I - Intimacy

He would tell you he'd rather be waterboarded or have his fingers and toes broken with a hammer than be intimate, but he's a Goddamn liar. He doesn't recognize his own intimate moments, thinking that the things he does for you 'just makes sense', but are actually very sweet deep down. But he does struggle with accepting intimacy. He'll tense at hug, pull away for kisses – you've learned to not be insulted – and tries not to let his heart skip a beat when he looks you in the eyes as he's buried deep inside you.

But at the end of the day, even if he fails – real or imagined – at intimacy, he'll never hurt you. He is very aware of your emotional well-being and he'd be damned to ever raise a hand to you.

J - Jack off

Used to mostly just be a form of release between missions and hook-ups. A means to an end, so to speak. But once he met you? Fuck... the way you looked at him, the way you looked at him when you walked in on him jerking off.

He loves to stroke his cock for you. He'll take it nice and slow, building himself up to an orgasm and then denying himself until you give him permission to release – usually on your face – and he's never been more satisfied with masturbation. Its so much better than his two-minute, violently jerking off somewhere on base experiences.

K - Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Loves size difference most of all. He'll be your big-strong man if you'll be his charming short king. There is something about the power dynamic that just gets him going. But again, he'd never use his size or strength to hurt you; he wants to feel like all his power is doing something other than killing... and what better way than to pleasure a charming man sexually?

As previously mentioned, chubby guys too. Loves a squishy body to touch and massage. Loves the soft flesh against the marred skin of his body (how do you not pull away from him?!).

Simon / Ghost longs to let go of his need for control and be dominated by a man; but trust is hard earned and he only reserves bottoming for that special-someone.

Has tried a variety of toys and only has a few select he actually likes. pocket masturbators are great compared to his calloused hands, and he's enjoyed a few butt plugs and dildo's, but he's not be able to venture too far with his exploration; there's still a little bit of shame and embarrassment he feels when he uses them (you'll make him get over it...).

L - Location (favorite places to do the do)

Simon / Ghost is a private man in general, so it would always have to be somewhere he felt safe. This would likely be his flat, your flat, his quarters on base or maybe even his office – locked, of course – if he was feeling a bit more adventurous.

As long as you're in the safety and comfort of a flat, though, any and all surfaces are acceptable. Tables, sofa's, counters, the bed or the shower are all perfect places to drive himself into your prostate and make you writhe for him.

M - Motivation (turn on’s)

Simon / Ghost loves it when you reach under his shirt and just gently play with the small of his back. Instant way to get this man in the mood, followed closely by teasing him by slipping fingers under the waist of his pants.

Can't go wrong with a classic, either; give his thighs some attention. Caress and tease slowly up towards his groin and you'll have this man growling like an animal.

Just seeing you being you. Walk around the flat in your lounging clothes, or his hoodie, or even shirtless. Simon / Ghost just enjoys seeing you in your most relaxed state around him since most people aren't.

N - No (wouldn’t do; turn offs)

Wouldn't hurt you. That should go without saying, but its still a deeply rooted fear that he projects onto you. He's a killer after all, so you must be waiting for the day he looses it on you. He won't. Not ever. Not you... not the one man who looks at him like that.

As for things he won't do in bed or let you do? Handcuffs are a no-go. Ever. Same with blindfolding.

Simon / Ghost also don't enjoy hickies, burns, scars or love marks, but that's due to his feelings regarding his scars and burns. Absolutely no choking either, but that also goes along with not hurting you, though he's not a fan of being choked either.

No scat, blood, diaper play, baby talk, age-gaps or age role-play.

O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Simon / Ghost already has a difficult time trying to sub for his lovers, so like hell he's going to deny himself -and you- the pleasure of sucking a man off. He can get lost in the moment as he swallows your cock whole, swirling his tongue around and playing with your foreskin. He will moan and groan over your length and swallow every last drop of your cum.

As for his skill? He's better at killing people for sure, but he'll make sure you get off.

P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Generally speaking, Simon / Ghost would prefer a slower, steadier pace. He wanted to enjoy every last moment of pleasure you're both experiencing. He doesn't take leave often and he doesn't have much time between missions as it is, so he leeches every second of pleasure from every encounter.

He sometimes gets a little too into the pleasure though and will go a bit feral. A need to just pound into you deep and hard until you're both a puddle of sweat and semen stuck to each other.

Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Depends on how you define a quickie. Simon / Ghost isn't one to just blow a load into you in five minutes and run, but if he's on a time constraint... sure. He usually saves quickies for jerking off.

R - Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Simon / Ghost already takes enough risk in his military life, so doesn't take nearly as many in his personal life. As long as your risky suggestions don't include high risk of infections or illness, or harm (obviously), he's open to considering them.

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You'll likely get the best hour of your life out of Simon / Ghost. He'll set a pace and stick to it... If he decides to overstimulate himself in the process, you can get another thirty to forty-five minutes out of him.

T - Toys (Own toys? Use them? on a partner or themselves?)

A few dildo and butt plugs, nothing too fancy or large and owns a few different pocket masturbators.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not a teaser, not overly vocal in general. Will grunt and groan, whine a bit when overstimulated, but doesn't really talk outside of a check in. You're safe until he's spent and the bad jokes start.

V - Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Simon / Ghost will grunt rather loudly once he gets into it.

W - Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Would never hurt you or do anything to make you uncomfortable, but loves it when a man beats him off and abuses his foreskin. Beat the man off hard and fast and be ready to take his load when you push him over the edge.

X - X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6' 4” Tall

Mildly hairy

Bulky

Curved cock

6.5” Hard and foreskin pulls all the way back over his head

Keeps everything tidy down there

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before a mission? Low

During a mission? Low

After a mission? High. So very high... he'll find a nice lad to sate him the day he returns home.

Z - Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Simon /Ghost rarely sleeps more than three hours a night on the best of days, to say nothing of the nightmares he has regularly. So even after a long night of fucking and sucking, he's still not likely to fall asleep very quickly; if at all.

Assuming he likes you long enough to stay the night, he'll only fall asleep after you have, and he'll be awake long before you as well. He'll probably be gone too, if you aren't dating... but don't worry, he'll leave a note.

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