#and i still think about it after more than three months.

[pucksandpower]

Hip Thrusts

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: watching your boyfriend train gives you ideas about other things (or people) his hips could be doing … like you

Warnings: 18+ content

You take a deep breath as you push open the door to the gym. The smell of rubber mats and metal weights fills your nose.

It’s early — the sun is just starting to peek through the windows — and the gym is mostly empty, except for a few dedicated early morning regulars on the cardio machines.

Across the room, you spot Oscar on the weight floor. He’s doing barbell hip thrusts, clanging the weights up and down with each rep. His trainer Kim stands over him, stopwatch in hand, counting out the seconds between sets.

You take a moment just to watch Oscar train. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his muscles flexing and contracting with each thrust. He’s wearing those tiny Nike running shorts you bought him last month, the ones that show off his sculpted quads and glutes.

You can’t help but stare a little bit. Okay, a lot. Your boyfriend’s butt looks amazing.

“57… 58 … 59 ...” Kim counts. “Good, take 30 seconds.”

Oscar racks the barbell and sits up, grabbing his water bottle. His eyes catch yours across the room and his face lights up in a smile.

“Hey babe!” He calls out, waving you over.

You weave your way past the ellipticals and weight machines until you’re standing next to him.

“Hey yourself,” you lean down to give him a quick peck. “You’re looking strong this morning.”

“Just trying to get some strength training in before Kim puts me through the ringer later,” Oscar says. “We’ve got the season starting up so I really need to be on my game.”

He takes a long swig from his water bottle as Kim jots down notes on his clipboard.

“So what brings you to the gym so early?” Oscar asks. “I didn’t think 6 am workouts were your thing.”

You shrug. “I was up early and thought maybe we could do breakfast after you’re done?”

“Sounds good to me,” Oscar nods.

Kim clears his throat. "30 seconds are up, time to go again.”

“Duty calls,” Oscar says, getting back into position on the bench.

You step back to give him space, but stay close to chat. Oscar grips the barbell and hoists it up into position over his hips. You glance at the plates stacked on either end, doing some quick math in your head.

“Seems like that’s heavier than last time I dropped by,” you can’t help but comment.

“Sure is,” Kim says proudly before Oscar can respond. “We increased the weight since last week. Gotta keep increasing the load to build muscle.”

You stare at the barbell plates again. Exactly your body weight. Which means ...

Oscar is doing hip thrusts with the equivalent of you lying on top of him.

A little flutter goes through your stomach at the thought. You try to push it aside though. Obviously he isn’t thinking of it that way, it’s just part of his training regimen that Kim has him on. Still, you can’t help but visualize it for a moment.

“Alright, here we go,” Kim says. “Three sets of twenty reps, and … go!”

Oscar begins thrusting the barbell up in controlled motions, breathing out with each lift. You try not to stare, but your eyes keep flicking back to the movement of his hips. There’s something about watching your boyfriend’s pelvis go up and down right in front of you that’s making it hard to look away.

After twenty reps Oscar racks the barbell again. His chest is heaving a little from the exertion.

“Nice work,” Kim says. “How’d that feel?”

“Good,” Oscar says between breaths. “Definitely feeling the burn.”

He catches your eye and must notice you blushing because he adds with a wink, “Enjoying the show, babe?”

You feel your cheeks flush even more. “What? No! I mean, yes? I just … never mind ...” you stammer.

Oscar grins knowingly and takes another sip of water.

Over the next two sets, you try your best not to gawk. You remind yourself that this is serious training. Oscar is an athlete and you need to be respectful.

But still … when he’s finished his final set and Kim tells him to take a longer rest, you can’t help yourself.

“So, the weight you’re thrusting, huh?” You say, trying to sound casual. “That’s kind of a coincidence ...”

“What do you mean?” Oscar asks.

You glance at Kim, who is occupied on his phone. In a lower voice you say, “Well, it’s exactly what I weigh.”

Oscar’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t even realize.” A sly grin crosses his face. “Hey, you’re totally right.”

You take a step closer to him, emboldened. “So basically you’re doing hip thrusts with me on top of you.”

Oscar lets out a startled laugh. “When you put it that way ...”

“I have to admit the thought crossed my mind while I was watching you,” you say. You run a hand slowly up his arm. “I think you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Oscar swallows hard, his eyes darkening. “Yeah?” He asks quietly.

You nod, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze.

He reaches out and takes your hand, rubbing his thumb in circles over your skin. “Well I can promise you, the real thing is a hundred times better than any training exercise.”

You lace your fingers through his, reveling in his touch. “Why don’t you remind me later?” You ask boldly.

Oscar leans in, his breath hot on your ear. “It would be my pleasure.”

A little shiver runs down your spine at the promise in his words. You want to kiss him right here in the middle of the gym, but Kim finally looks up from his phone.

“Alright, time’s up! Let’s keep moving.”

Oscar gives you a sheepish look as he releases your hand. “Duty calls once again. But rain check for later?”

“Absolutely.” You wink and take a step back so he can get into position for his next set.

You try to pay more attention to his form as he does the next round of hip thrusts. But this time, your mind keeps wandering to what those hips could do under different circumstances. Judging by the smoldering looks Oscar keeps shooting your way between sets, you’re pretty sure he’s thinking the same thing.

By the last set, there’s an obvious tension and heat between you. Oscar holds your gaze as he finishes the final reps, his hips rising and falling rhythmically. You bite your lip, no longer even trying to hide your desire. You want him, and you want him now.

Finally Kim calls time and tells Oscar to start his cool down stretches. As he reaches for his toes, back arched, you sidle up behind him.

“I think you need to stretch out some other muscles too,” you murmur in his ear. “I’d be happy to assist with that later.”

Oscar straightens up with a groan. “You’re killing me here, babe. As soon as we get home ...”

You grin up at him innocently. “Yes?”

He kisses you heatedly, not caring that Kim is still packing up his things nearby. “Why don’t you head out and get breakfast started for us?” He suggests. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You bite your lip as you back away slowly. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

You toss one last flirty wave over your shoulder as you leave the gym, heart racing. You have a feeling breakfast might be the last thing on both of your minds when Oscar gets home. But you love teasing each other like this — it always makes your time together even hotter.

As you drive home, you can’t stop replaying those images of Oscar doing hip thrusts in your mind. Maybe you should start joining those early morning workouts more often …

***

You can barely concentrate as you drive back home. You and Oscar have always had an adventurous and flirtatious relationship, but that encounter at the gym took things to a whole new level.

When you get home, you quickly tidy up the bedroom and kitchen to get things ready for when Oscar arrives. You take a fast shower, letting the hot water relax your excited nerves.

Slipping into a silky robe, you head to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. You chop fruit, arrange multigrain toast and toppings on a platter, and squeeze fresh orange juice, trying to make everything look as appetizing as possible. Not that food is really on your mind right now, but you want to set the scene perfectly.

Just as you’re pouring two cups of coffee, you hear the front door open. Oscar calls out your name, his voice sending a thrill through your whole body.

“In here!” You call back, straining to keep your tone neutral even as your pulse quickens.

Oscar strides into the kitchen and pauses, eyes sweeping over you hungrily as he takes in the robe and the breakfast you’ve laid out.

“This looks amazing, babe,” he says appreciatively. He comes over and kisses you tenderly. “Thank you for doing all this.”

You smile up at him, arms encircling his neck. “Least I could do after that little show you put on for me. Now come sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

You both take a seat at the kitchen island, filling your plates with fruit, pastries and eggs. The domesticity of sharing a meal together contrasts wildly with the tension still charging the air between you.

Oscar asks about your morning as you eat, keeping the conversation light. But his foot slowly trails up your calf under the table, making your breath hitch. You tell him about your plans to meet up with some friends later in the week. His hand finds your knee, fingers lightly grazing your bare skin. You ask him how training is going, trying to keep your voice even as your whole body tingles.

By the time you’ve both cleaned your plates, you’re squirming in your seat, heart pounding with anticipation. The second Oscar pushes his plate away, you surge forward to kiss him hungrily. All pretense of small talk is dropped — you want him now.

Oscar responds immediately, his strong arms pulling you tight against him as he kisses you deeply. You run your hands over the hard muscles of his chest and arms, feeling them flex and relax under your touch.

“Take me to bed,” you whisper in his ear.

In one smooth motion, Oscar stands and lifts you up into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you effortlessly to the bedroom and lays you down on the bed, his athletic body hovering tantalizingly over yours.

You run your hands up under his shirt, feeling the ripple of abs and obliques. Oscar lets you pull it up over his head before capturing your mouth again, kissing you ravenously.

“Need to feel you,” he groans, hands fumbling to untie your robe. He pushes the silk aside reverently, eyes roaming over your exposed body with undisguised longing.

You arch up into him, gasping as your overheated skin meets his. Oscar kisses down your neck to your collarbone, hands gliding up your ribcage to caress your breasts. You moan his name, back bowing off the bed at the sensation.

“You’re so beautiful,” Oscar murmurs, lips continuing their descent. “I’ve been thinking about this all morning.”

You smile, combing your fingers through his hair. “Well then stop thinking and start doing.”

Oscar laughs, his warm breath fanning over your stomach. “Yes ma’am.”

He kisses lower, fingers trailing down your thighs to nudge them apart. You let your legs fall open with a pleasured sigh, back arching in anticipation.

Oscar starts slow, kissing and licking with delicate flicks of his tongue that have you squirming for more. He grips your hips, holding you still as he finally puts his mouth on you fully.

You cry out as he brings you right to the edge, only to pause and ease up again, keeping you balancing at the precipice.

“Oscar,” you moan urgently.

He smiles against you, knowing exactly what he’s doing to your body. When he finally takes pity on you, the climax rockets through you powerfully, leaving you trembling and breathless.

You pull Oscar up to meet your lips again, tasting yourself on him. “Your turn,” you whisper.

He groans as you quickly flip him onto his back and kiss your way down his taut body. You pull off his shorts torturously slowly, trailing your tongue along his hip crease in a way you know drives him wild.

Finally you take him into your mouth, noting how he’s already hard and straining for you. You smile around him, working him with your lips and tongue until his hips are bucking uncontrollably.

“I need you. I need to be inside you,” Oscar gasps, stilling you.

You release him reluctantly and crawl back up his muscular frame to kiss him hungrily. Oscar grips your hips and then you’re sinking down onto him, crying out at the delicious fullness.

You move together urgently, the restrained desire from earlier in the gym bubbling over as your bodies join again and again. Oscar’s fingers dig into the curves of your hips as he guides you up and down. You brace your hands on his sculpted chest, grinding your hips in little circles that make you both moan.

The pleasure builds rapidly, urged on by the intoxicating intimacy of your entwined bodies. Oscar’s thumb finds your most sensitive spot and starts stroking in time with your movements. The dual sensations send you hurtling over the edge again. Your climax seems to trigger Oscar’s own release. He throws his head back with a ragged groan as he finds his peak deep inside you.

You stay wrapped together as you both catch your breath, hearts pounding against each other’s chests. Oscar strokes your hair back from your face and pulls you in for a lazy kiss, full of satiation.

“Wow,” you sigh, still trembling with aftershocks. “This morning just keeps getting better and better.”

Oscar grins and rolls you both onto your sides, keeping you tucked close. “I guess we have hip thrusts to thank for this extra workout.”

You laugh and kiss his cheek. “Remind me to join your gym sessions more often.”

You lay entwined, trading soft kisses and simply enjoying the intimacy. The frantic passion from moments before simmers down into contented warmth.

Eventually Oscar nuzzles your hair. “As much as I want to stay like this all day, I should probably shower before practice.”

You pout playfully but let him slide out of your arms. He heads to the bathroom and you hear the water turn on a minute later.

Biting your lip, you get an idea. Oscar did say all day ...

You sneak into the steamy bathroom behind him. Through the frosted glass door you can see the outline of his muscular frame under the cascade of water.

Silently, you drop your robe and step into the shower behind him. Oscar turns under the stream, eyes lighting up as he sees you.

“Well hello there,” he grins. “Come here often?”

You press your naked body against his slick skin. “I missed you already.”

Oscar’s arms wrap around you as his lips find yours. “I think we have time for round two before I have to get ready for the afternoon,” he murmurs suggestively.

You smile and reach for the body wash, lathering up your hands. “Better get started then.”

Oscar groans appreciatively as your soapy hands glide over his shoulders and down his chest. You take your time relearning every hard ridge and valley of his athletic physique, paying special attention to the areas still sensitive from your earlier activities.

The combination of cascading water and roaming hands quickly has Oscar hard again. This time he lifts you, pressing your back against the cool tile wall as your legs lock around his hips.

You cry out in bliss at the new angle as he enters you. Oscar braces one hand on the wall and slips the other between you, resuming his earlier attentions. The dual sensation makes your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you gasp, raking your nails down his back.

Oscar increases his pace, thumb working you relentlessly as he snaps his hips. You feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it crests explosively, just as Oscar tenses and finds his own peak.

You cling together, slick and sated under the warm spray. Eventually Oscar carefully lowers your weakened legs back to the shower floor, keeping an arm around your waist to support you.

“Okay, now I really need to get ready to head out,” he chuckles.

You sigh contentedly. “Fine, but only if you promise more later.”

Oscar drops a kiss to your shoulder. “Oh I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

As you exit the shower on shaky legs, you exchange a grin. Looks like early morning workouts are going to become a permanent part of your routine from now on.

[chubsonthemoon]

It is done! This is The Death of Translation, originally written in English by @landwriter, translated into Mandarin by @thirrith. Binding is dos-à-dos, with English version on one side and Mandarin on the other. Bookcloth was handwoven by me, on my rigid heddle loom :3

More under the cut!

Typeset: Fanbinders are Liars

Full stop, this typeset would not have been possible without Eth and all their patience, enthusiasm, and willingness to do even more translating! I reached out to them *checks watch* nearly a year ago in July 2023 (lololol), asking if I could use their translation of TDOT in a surprise bind I wanted to send along with Gloam's author copy of Flower King. They were kind enough to say yes, and even kinder to answer my questions when I reached out six months later in January, when I was finally able to start work on the typeset.

We talked about the many delicious things that are bound to come up when discussing translating not just from English to Mandarin, but also from digital space to meatspace. Some topics I had anticipated, like font questions, translating the colophon, etc. But even with the topics I thought I'd prepared for, there were still things that came up that both surprised and delighted: for example, while AO3's website allows for italics in Mandarin--

--my publishing program doesn't (or at least, it doesn't without needing to manually tilt every character by about 10 degrees). So as a workaround, Eth suggested changing these cases of italics to the font 华文楷体:

Through no one's fault but my own, this ended up being only slightly less work than manually tilting every instance of italics--I wanted to be sure that I got all of them, so I ended up doing a lot of double-checking manually anyway, instead of relying solely on the Search function. There was a lot of cross-referencing with the Word document that Eth was kind enough to provide, as well as squinting and general swearing. I also did the same for the uses of Latin script, manually styling each instance as Garamond to keep it consistent with the English edition:

The only other time I've had to do font surgery this intensive is probably for my typeset for Tell Me About the Big Bang, which I had to port over from a PDF. Folks, hell on earth. Do not recommend XD I remember squinting at my monitor as I had to visually confirm every instance of italics, thinking I will never do this again. Welp, four years later, here were are: fanbinders are liars, LMAO. At the very least, using Eth's Word document at least allowed me to search by styles, so it was a little easier on my eyes. 🙏

Is there a script that I might've been able to use if I was more code-savvy? Probably. But I figured going at it sledgehammer style would be the least hair-pulling way to get the job done, weirdly enough. Still, despite my best efforts, there are a few instances of PMingLiU to Garamond and PMingLiU to 华文楷体 that I know I missed, and I know I missed them because I caught them after I'd printed/cut/folded/sewn/glued (cue more swearing), so Gloam and Eth, my apologies >.< please consider them artifacts of a uniquely handmade object ajslkdjfs

In addition to the fonts, there were also some other fun things Eth and I discussed, like how to translate the notes I usually provide on the colophons! In addition to information on fonts, I also usually include some variation of:

This private, limited edition published by chubsthehamster (Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing) in 2024. This is chubsthehamster's personal copy. Out of three existing copies, this is the first.

The thing that came up with this, which still tickles my brain to this day, was how Eth chose how to translate "Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing." To get a better sense of what word to use for "imprint," they asked what the relationship was between Moonham Press and Renegade Publishing, which got me thinking about the relationship between my lil imprint and the wonderful @renegadeguild:

What's all very funny about all of this is that we are now, in fact, going by the name "Renegade Bookbinding Guild," per our most recently updated Code of Conduct. While this renders the wording I asked for out of date (and thus, the wording that made it into the book out of date :'D), I think it's also a testament to how cool the work @renegadeguild is doing--like any artform, fanbinding is alive, with its own evolving language, communities, and ideas about the craft. And I love it, I love it so much. (Was this also a plug for our new-ish website? Perhaps).

There's more I could say here, but this post is already going to be long enough, so I'll move on for now! If you get anything from this section, it's that @thirrith is amazing and very patient and kind, and I'm so grateful that we got to talk shop together. Thank you so much for all your invaluable help with this, Eth! I hope the typeset, though undoubtedly flawed, does your hard work justice!

Binding: Or, SO Much Math. Like, So Much, Guys. (It was worth it, though!)

Whoo, boy! So math was never my strong suit in school, but when I set out to do this bind last year, that wasn't an issue. At first. The dos-à-dos binding, if anything, just requires a little bit of finagling on the usual case-bound format--a bit more math if you want to do an all-cloth cover, like I planned on doing, but nothing I couldn't work out with some trial and error. (My prototype below!)

Then came February, when I took a weaving class with my friend, and then everything kinda exploded.

My original idea was to use some green Duo bookcloth I had on hand (this color, actually)--for those of you not initiated into the Duo cult, Duo is a Rayon bookcloth with a very devoted fan following in Renegade. It's very pretty; the Rayon weave is one color, and the paper backing is usually complementary color, so it has this cool two-toned effect. Duo is in high demand in Renegade circles because sadly, the company that manufactures it went out of business last year. (Although I've heard rumors recently that there's another company making something similar, but the cloth has a really high purchase requirement and is, like, for businesses only I think).

Anyway, I also wanted to have a gold line around the whole book as a kind of bellyband/obi to further connect the two versions of the story (another reason why I chose the dos-à-dos format to begin with heh), as you can see from my scribbled notes here--

But alas! I knew going in that adhering things to Duo is often Problematic, thanks to one very painful experience trying to get some iron-on foil on another bind (the textured surface of Duo just makes it kinda hard to stick or paint stuff on it). So if I wanted a clean, continuous line, the remaining options were to either paint it on a strip of paper that I'd somehow...adhere to the cloth? Or maybe cut different slices of bookcloth and glue them on. I wasn't satisfied with either of those options, though.

Then--the weaving class. I made a scarf, and I love it and I loved making it. But the whole time, I'll not lie, my thoughts were elsewhere.

In short, my decision to weave my own bookcloth kinda came from a few different factors:

The desire to attempt to recreate Duo, that elusive beauty, the one that got away, etc. (I have several yards in my stash, but still). Others have also attempted to recreate it, and I thought I'd throw my hat in the ring.

My current spiral into the deep hole that is fiber arts (it started with crochet, then knitting, then sewing, then weaving, then spinning, and now I'm eyeing quilting! Please help me).

The gold line. It kept bugging me. And when I found weaving, I just thought there was something very neat about the process of actually making the cloth for a dos-à-dos binding from scratch, and especially for this binding. I wanted to bind a story about translation (or rather, the death of it, and yet still the necessity of it--how we must try to communicate, despite of, or perhaps precisely because of, everything that gets lost in the spaces between people, and the tragedy of that loss, and the beauty of what makes it through, and the love always present in the effort regardless), and also, the translation of that story. Weaving is a very meditative process, and with every pass of the shuttle, back and forth, building slowly but surely the fabric that would hold the story that Gloam had written and that Eth had translated, I thought a lot about translation, and the gaps between people, and how we choose our words not just when translating, but when we speak at all. From a design perspective, I used the same colors I would've used had I chosen the Duo bookcloth--green and gold--so the design wasn't too altered in terms of color scheme. But I think the choice to weave the bookcloth--the thing that bound it all together--made the project take on a completely new meaning for me, both in process and in scope, one that hadn't been there when I started. I saw the warp, perhaps, as the original story, laying the groundwork for the weft, the translation; or maybe it was the other way around, with the translation providing the scaffolding for its own, new meaning, choices that Eth had to make with this word or phrase or another building something new, something translated, and the original a live, moving thing that wove over and under each word turned phrase turned story; or maybe it was both. Maybe it didn't matter which was which, in the end. And as I wove, the thing that connected them, that gold line that had started all of this, slowly formed.

All that to say: Good God, was there a lot of math. So much math. That prototype pictured above was actually made specifically so I could calculate exactly how much I needed to weave, lol, because while I certainly had enough thread, I didn't want to have to warp more than once. I'd learned the basics in my class, but the training wheels came off here. I wanted to make my own custom fabric, which meant calculating things like ends per inch, picks per inch, loom waste, shrinkage after washing, the width of that damn gold line, how much I'd need for the hinge, the turn-ins, the boards--the whole nine yards (I didn't actually weave nine yards tho heh). It was all absolutely worth it in the end--so challenging and so, so rewarding!

(And my final reason for weaving the bookcloth? Not gonna lie, It was because I just wanted to see if I could do it LOL. I love trying at least one new thing with each of my binds, and this was it for this project. While I've been bookbinding for a few years now, I'm still very much a beginner weaver, and I'm so excited to continue to learn and experiment! Also, here's a video of me unwinding the cloth from the loom, heh. I used 10/2 Perle cotton in gold and green colors :3)

Also, turns out, you can back handmade cloth the same way you can any other cloth! I backed it using my usual heat-n-bond method, and with some Unryu Tissue in the color Forest. Since the cloth itself is a bit transparent, there are a bunch of really fun fibers you can see when it's held up to the light, but which aren't visible when the cloth is glued down to the boards. Still, knowing they're there still makes me happy :D

Finally, capping all this off, is one final, small detail I really liked: ginkgo leaf endpapers :3 this one's for me and Eth and Gloam specifically <3

Aaaand that's all from me for today, folks! Thus ends (several months late XD) my last Binderary project for the year. This was probably my most ambitious bind to date, and gosh it was so, so much fun.

And, of course, thank you so much to Gloam for sharing your story, and Eth for translating it. I can't wait for y'all to receive your copies soon!

All my love! <3

[shoyudon]

dad!choso is on my mind. he’d be the sweetest husband/father to-be. i just know he’d hold our hand the entire time and say things like “i wish i could take this pain away from you.”

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘 .ᐟ

keeping up with the choso family

starring. choso x fem! reader

heads up. pregnancy, giving birth, you're in you're 20s during shibuya (around nanami's age), all information are from research.

note. NONNIE, FIRST OF ALL YES. I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS??? i just know he'd cry during every one of these moments, i'm gonna sob, i miss him so much.

the first time choso met you, he didn't know you'd be his life companion. pushing aside at the fact that you both were enemies at first, being a jujutsu sorcerer assigned to shibuya wasn't really the best circumstances for first meetings — which practically didn't happen smoothly.

long story short, he actually hurts you with his blood manipulation. not enough to kill you, but enough to consider it a 'medical emergency'. he is really sorry about it though; when he saw you protect yuuji despite your injuries, he just knew he had to have you.

choso made it clear that he regretted hurting you — especially when his technique left a scar on your skin. specifically on your shoulder, and your lower abdomen. occasionally pressing his lips onto your scars, the vivid drawings of your stitches still embedded into your skin.

"'m sorry . . ." choso whispers out into your skin, burying his face into your stomach as you both lay down on the bed. once again, he was feeling apologetic for hurting you more than a year ago. every day after shibuya, he was busy apologizing to you for hurting you.

"cho, that was what . . ? more than a year ago? you need to stop apologizing, baby," raking your fingers through his hair, he sighs out in content, leaning his cheek onto your stomach — his arms draped around your thighs.

when he asks you to marry him, he subconsciously did it because he panicked. choso had it all planned for a whole month, and managed to ruin it in three minutes on the day he was going to propose to you because you were just so captivating, he just lost all senses of everything he practiced.

"please, marry me," choso blurts out, his mind going one hundred miles per second — he wasn't even sure if he was conscious at that point, "i love you so much and i can't think of my life without you, please marry me," he whispers, squeezing your hand gently.

choso actually got help from everyone on what to say and what to do, which all went down to drain when he decided to use his heart to propose to you. and it worked out well anyways, "seriously? i'm gonna cry," you fanned your eyes.

believe me when i said that choso was on the edge of his seat, waiting for your answer. when you exclaimed out a happy and tearful, "yes!", he could finally breathe out in relief, raising your hand up to his lips in happiness, slipping the ring he even forgot for a second.

choso actually told himself that he wouldn't cry during his own wedding. months before the reception — he finds himself watching wedding videos and happily kicking his feet at the sight of the groom crying, he believed he wouldn't, because he's seen you everyday. right? right?

wrong. the moment the tall doors opened and there you started walking down the aisle slowly, choso felt overwhelmed at the fact that he was getting married to you, and you were getting married to him. he swore if it wasn't for yuuji, he would be laying down in front of the whole guest list, crying on the ground.

he stood there, instinctively wiping his tears — that were never-ending, and god, you looked so beautiful that all he could see was you. choso felt like it was just you and him at that moment, no guest, no yuuji, just you.

after the ceremony, choso just wanted to go back home and if it weren't for you telling him to wait until everyone goes home, he'd technically kidnap his own wife and bring her back to their home. with a pout and a long face, he greets the guest with you, hand in yours like a little child who didn't get what they want.

"can we go back home now? my legs are killing me," he whispers, squeezing your hand, tugging you towards him, "jus' leave them, they're eating the night away . . ."

"let's wait until everyone goes home, okay?" you tell him. almost wanting to laugh at the sight of his fake offended gasp right after, choso didn't complain anyways — nodding his head as you tugged him towards a group of people to greet them.

when you both got home after a long day, choso immediately headed for the bedroom, tossing himself onto the bed, white shirt wrinkled and his tie messily pulled towards one side. eyelids half closed.

"cho, you know you have to shower before you sleep. you stink."

"mmm . . . wanna sleep," he moans out into the pillow, reaching his hand out to you in an attempt to bring you onto the bed, which did not work since you were too busy wiping off your makeup, "can't we just shower tomorrow? 'm so tired."

choso's never really thought about having kids. he didn't know how to take care of kids, nor how to react with kids. for some reason, the universe though — seemed to have bless him with a wave of "baby fever" one and a half year into the marriage. watching videos of random babies from all over the world doing baby things, and he felt his heart flutter at the sight.

that was when he knew, he wanted a family with you. technically, the two of you were already a family the moment you both got married — but he wanted an addition to your small family. a child.

he didn't really know how to break the fact that he wanted a baby with you, and so he tried subtle ways to do so. showing you baby videos, telling you how cute your kids would be, even pointing at baby shoes or onesies when you both go out.

by that point, you'd caught on to his little scheme, "why're you talking about kids a lot? baby shoes, baby onesies, baby videos, baby this, baby that," you informed him, threading your fingers through his hair as he laid his head on your lap.

"wan' a baby."

so when you broke the news that you were bearing his child, he cried. and by cry — i mean bawled out like a baby. clinging to you, overwhelmed at the fact that he was going to have a child with you, he was actually going to have a little family of his own.

just a few days after the news, he'd grown a lot more protective of your wellbeing. asking here and there about what you could and couldn't eat, or what might harm the growing baby inside you. searching here and there.

during your first trimester, more precisely, during your fifth week; the cravings began getting heavy and wonky. despite all that, choso still indulged in your cravings. hell, he even had to try some because he couldn't say no to you when you tried to share with him.

peanut butter and salmon sashimi, pickle juice with honey, cream cheese and fried chicken, ramen soup popsicles, bacon and toothpaste, milk and ramen seasoning, and more of those odd combinations. choso never did complain even once, if you wanted to eat something at three am, he'd run out and go find some no matter what — you were carrying his child, and he figured that was the least he could do for you.

"taste good, baby?" choso asks you, swiping his fingertips over the cream cheese spread on the corner of your lips.

nodding vigorously, you brought the half-eaten fried chicken messily dipped in the thick and white cream cheese spread — eyes shining brightly, as if asking him to try some with you. blinking in surprise, he took a bite. definitely a weird experience for him, and it was one of the oddest combination of food he had ever tried.

"'ts funny, but it's not bad," he swallowed after chewing the chicken a few times; reaching for the glass of water by the nightstand.

throughout your pregnancy, choso made sure to spoil you with a lot of things. the doll you looked at for a split second while the both of you ventured into the mall, the food he sees you browsing through his phone or your phone, tucking you in bed using the pillow he bought for pregnant women, and the feet massages for you everyday.

"where are you going?" choso asks, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. the dark spots under his eyes were getting darker every time — it was obvious the changes in his life had made it, but choso was more than enlightened to do it for you.

"want to drink," you whisper, letting out a cute incoherent noise as you tried to roll off the mattress.

choso was quick to hold you back, tucking you inside the bundle of covers, "i'll get it for you, stay here, okay?" he whispers, hopping off the bed to fetch you a glass of water — choso didn't want to keep you waiting, running off to the kitchen and fetching you a glass of water topped with a lot of ice cubes; something he noticed you'd chew on a lot ever since you got pregnant.

"here you go," he walks back carefully, handing you the water, pinching the skin on your nap gently as he watches you gobble the water down, parting your lips to pop in an ice cube or two.

nearing your due date, specifically just a few days after the 37th week — the contractions started. it was the ninth month, and it was expected. choso heard your hushed whimpers in his sleep, he would probably guess it was at dawn, probably around four? he didn't even bother checking on the time because all he cared was you.

he was barely awake, kicking off the covers and helping you. ushering you to slowly breathe in and out, his hand rubbing soothing circles on the hollow of your back. choso figured that he wanted you and the unborn child to be safe, and so he decided to bring you to the hospital where the experts are.

choso was worried beyond anyone else; even you. constantly staying by your side, his hair disheveled; a few strands going the opposite way, and tangled with each other. he laid his head down on the mattress, by your hand. choso laid his hand on your belly, rubbing against the cloth gently to ease the pain from the contractions.

at the early stage of labor, you were feeling cramps and an intense backache — which choso helped you through. he was glad he brought you to the hospital because not long after, your water broke. and he was there to help you through it all, clutching onto your hand as if he was holding on for dear life.

everything that the doctors or the nurses do, he felt his heart beat a notch quicker than earlier. choso was afraid, and he wasn't really afraid to admit it — i mean, you're his wife and you were carrying his child. he didn't want anything to happen to the both of you.

choso heard the doctor explain to him about what was going to happen, but everything that came in from his left ear exits through his right. he could barely remember anything because through out the explanation, he was too busy caring for you throughout the contractions that had grew a bit more intense during your active labor.

he hated everything inside the delivery room. it smelt like blood — choso was used to blood. but he didn't like it when it came from you, his heart drumming against his chest as he felt your grip tightened on his hand. frankly, he could care less if he broke a few bones as long as you and the baby were both okay.

choso hated seeing you in pain, even while delivering his baby. he didn't blame the baby, of course; he just wishes he could do something and take away the pain from you, latching his lips onto your sweat painted forehead. salty. he could taste your sweat against his lips, and despite that, he still refused to move.

"wish i could jus' take away the pain away from you, y/n," he whispers — hearing your pained grunt, your eyes glazed with fresh tears. and he kissed them away, whispering sweet nothings into your ears.

telling you it was just a bit more until you could see your baby, how proud he is of you, how much he loves you, how much he wished he could take away your pain, everything he felt in his heart at that moment all poured out into hushed whispers.

when the first cry of your baby echoed inside the rowdy delivery room, choso cried. he looked down at you, cradling your face in his hands, singing out, "good job, good job. 'm so proud of you, i love you so much."

the baby's a beautiful baby boy.

choso didn't want to hold the baby first as much as he wanted to — he felt like you deserved to touch the baby first after risking your life to birth him. and so he told the nurse to let you at least see the baby first, he refused to carry his son until you, his wife, touched him first; whether using your hands or any part of your body.

he stared in awe when the baby's loud cry eventually stopped when the nurse brought him to you, letting you coo at your own newborn son. his tears freely dropping, rubbing circles onto the back of your hand.

when the nurse asked him to have skin-to-skin contact, choso was nervous. what if he dropped his son? what if his son doesn't like him? what if his son doesn't like the way his skin feels? so many out of the box questions that didn't need to be answered were roaming in his mind.

as he slowly cradled his son, he blinked back the second round of tears that had threatened to fall. the light blue beanie stuck to his son's head seeped with a few drops of tears, leaning down to press his lips onto the baby's skin a few times. introducing himself as the baby's father and how happy he is to be one,

daichi l/n. that's the baby's name — it meant great first son. the both of you felt that it was a suitable name for your first baby.

choso slept on the small couch inside the hospital room during your healing week, in the middle of both you and him was daichi's small basinet where he slept soundly. he made sure to knock himself awake every now and then to check after both you and daichi.

when the hospital permitted you to go home, you completely relied on choso on heavy things — which you didn't even have to ask, he was already doing it for you. daichi gets a bit fussy at night, and choso always tells you to go back to sleep and that he'd handle the baby.

"you know, you're really noisy, right? mama's really worried about you," he gently poked the baby's cheek with his thumb as he cradled the small bundle of life affectionately, singing out a lullaby he remembered you singing to him years ago.

choso never knew he had a knack on changing diapers until you were occupied, and he had to change daichi's diaper. turns out he was really good at it, and from that day on — he's also told you that he got it. your body was still sore from delivery, and so everything around the house was mostly done by choso under your watch.

although choso's been the one taking care of daichi, he could definitely see how much the baby's turning out to be a big mama's boy even at a few months old. he noticed how daichi would only let you burp him, or sometimes daichi would get fussy when he felt choso raising him up during early mornings until you had to do it.

he didn't care. he wasn't jealous, daichi's still his son and he was glad that daichi loved you a little more than him. he'd like it if his baby prioritizes you first before him.

being a father is a great wonder to him. daichi's first word being 'mama', and his first steps was done while he was sauntering clumsily towards you. choso is such a proud father.

growing up, daichi turned out to be a big mama's boy. but still he loved choso too. now daichi lets choso carries him during mornings, and he relies on choso when something scares him while clutching onto your hand, taking small steps to hide behind choso. using his own father as a shield for him and you.

"don't worry, baby. 's just a lion in the screen, dada will protect us," you scooped the boy into your arms, pointing at the screen where a lion and its cub are walking.

"mmm. dada will protect you both," choso chimes in, ruffling daichi's thin hair.

daichi grew up loving boxing. you didn't know how he knows about it, but at the very next second, he was pestering choso to teach him boxing. and choso dreaded this because what was his son going to do at four years of age in pre-school with boxing? was he going to use it on his teachers? or his friends?

"no . . . maybe when you're older," choso's always said that, patting daichi's head as he does.

daichi whined every single time, but managed to forget when he saw some people drawing on TV. choso once again being a victim of his own son's pleading for some drawing lessons. as a father, choso of course accompanied daichi during his draw sessions in the living room right after the kid comes back from pre-school.

sometimes choso would draw too, having a little competition with his own son. which daichi mostly won — but at the same time, choso never complained about his loss. he was always proud of daichi.

"look, look mama! this is you, this is daichi, and this is dada!" daichi announces, pointing at every aspect of his drawing, explaining to you.

and to the fridge the drawing goes.

when daichi graduated pre-school, choso again, cried. taking pictures using the camera he had asked you to teach him how beforehand, and the pictures weren't the nicest. most of them being a blur of daichi walking down the stage with his small cap, waving his little hand to the camera.

choso was so proud of his son, of you, of himself. looking back— he's realized how far he had come despite not having to expect all of this. a loving wife. a son. a family.

choso was just glad he had his own little family now with you and his son. although . . . he wouldn't mind having another addition to the small community.

© shoyudon 2024 . no copying or reposting allowed !

[doberbutts]

Also just because I've been getting some harassing anons and replies on my post ever since that one self-identified Zionist blog got BIG MAD at me for posting the Palestinian flag (ironic considering like 3 days later when I reblogged something Jewish I had people then BIG MAD at me for that too.......)

Skoll, I took on knowing I would probably have to euthanize him for his aggression. From the very beginning the deal was that I was his last stop since he was a known abuse court case dog who was taken from his most recent owners and languishing in a kennel environment but deemed otherwise unadoptable due to severe aggression. The agreement was that I would have him for however long it would take to determine if he was fixable and then either I'd fix it and keep him or I'd euthanize. He bit me three separate times when we were still learning each other, and then attacked me randomly for the crime of petting his head, an act of affection he normally would approach me to request. I euthanized him at the advice of literally everyone involved with his case, and a few days after I euthanized him I got a letter from the state telling me either I put him down or animal control would take him and do it themselves. Pennsylvania is very strict on what they consider a mauling or a maiming and the resulting bite from his attack was very severe. I have had multiple people, including vets, neurologists, and behaviorists, tell me that they think he had rage, a seizure disorder which causes uncontrollable aggression, when I describe what his random bouts of attempting to attack literally the first thing he locked eyes on looked like.

Tiki, I rescued because I wanted a tiny dog and a dog that would live longer than a doberman, because dobe lifespans are hideously short due to their health problems. Within about 5 minutes of driving away with her, I realized she was very, very sick. We stopped at the vet before we even got her home. Over the next several months and constant ER visits we discovered she had hydrocephalus and also an immune condition that was slowly eating her lungs. She crashed during a procedure that was supposed to be our last attempt at fixing the lung problem as by then we knew the hydrocephalus would kill her anyway and we were trying to extend her life as long as possible. I dropped her off for the procedure, they called me on my way home, and I turned around so I could be there to say goodbye.

Creed died from cancer 🤷‍♂️ mast cell cancer is THE most common cancer in dogs as a species and it's a genuine coin toss if removing the initial tumor fixes it or if it's too late by the time you notice, because it forms on scar tissue so it hides by looking like a regular scar. Creed had a bunch of nicks and scrapes from running around in the woods on our hikes. One of the earliest scars he ever got is what killed him in the end. Losing him is what turned my blog from what it used to be, all dogs all the time, to what it is now. Ironically, he lived roughly the average lifespan for a doberman at 7.5 years old.

Phoebe, I was not involved in the decision to euthanize her. She came to me once again very sick, and I did my best to fix the problem, but it seemed to be a lot bigger than me or her other owner had expected. Her other owner took her to multiple specialists more local to her, and finally we came to a tentative diagnosis of a liver shunt. Her condition degraded rapidly and she went blind and began having seizures, and her other owner made the choice to say goodbye. Surgery was not an option due to her already bad condition not being certain she would actually survive anesthesia. I knew that she was not doing well, but I was not informed that she had died until several months later, despite my asking for updates because I suspected she'd passed. I don't disagree with the choice, I just wish I'd known when it happened. What we thought was just a chronic hookworm infestation and possible pancreatitus from the long-term damage from the hookworms turned out to be much more serious, and deadly, when it stopped responding to treatment.

If you have any questions on my capability as a dog owner to actually keep dogs alive, I'd like to direct you to the fact that Creed and my other actually-purchased-from-a-breeder dogs have lived good long lives. I keep getting sick dogs in rescue despite being told they are healthy, and that is exactly why I refuse to rescue dogs anymore. I'm tired of breaking my heart while cleaning up a problem someone else created. This is the part of rescue that doesn't get shared- what happens when someone loses the rescue lottery again and again and again with sick and mentally unwell dogs that are doomed to die before they've had a chance to truly live? I'm tired of being that someone. I'm tired of loving dogs and hemorrhaging money in a desperate attempt to fix them and feeling the weight of their bodies in my arms when that wasn't enough and they die anyway.

At least I can say Creed had a good fulfilled life as my constant companion, even if he didn't live nearly long enough compared to what I wanted.

[stellaluna33]

Sorry to be a hater- look away if you must- but I just have to vent once again about how much I hate that stupid "Rory Gilmore learns about sexting to spice up her lagging long-distance relationship!" storyline in Season 7. 🙄 Like, FIRST OF ALL, I'm supposed to believe that Rory Gilmore, who was reading (and recommending!) Ginsberg at the age of 16, is somehow shocked and scandalized and uncomfortable with the idea of reading or writing about sex?? That whole babyish, fluttery, "Oh, I couldn't possibly!" personality transplant she undergoes in that season really throws me off! But ALSO, like... Rory and Logan have only been apart for like THREE EPISODES? By this point? And she's already feeling like their relationship is going to fall apart without sexual intimacy? Like, honey, the point I'm getting from this is not "long distance relationships are hard!" It's "this relationship seems to be based on nothing but sex." And if you're already running out of things to say because you're not in the same room anymore? Yikes. "But long distance relationships are hard!" Yeah! I KNOW. Want to know HOW I know? Because by the time we got married, my Husband and I did the math and figured out that from the beginning of our relationship to our wedding day we'd spent more time APART than TOGETHER. The longest stretch of time where we were on opposite sides of the earth and didn't see each other at all was ten months. And yes! It was hard! But we never felt like we were running out of things to SAY to each other or had no emotional intimacy! How am I supposed to think this Rory/Logan storyline is "romantic" when my own memories involve writing handwritten letters that were pages and pages long, and long emails on top of that? Sensual poetry that ached with so much longing that it made my breath catch in my throat when I read it? Do you know how it feels to talk on the phone for hours and hours until your arm gets tired from holding the phone up and you have to keep switching it from side to side because your ear is getting that horrible warm and sweaty feeling from the plastic being pressed against it for so long, and you STILL don't want to say goodbye because it's never enough? Anyway, I can't get into this storyline. It feels shallow and cheap and boring to me! Like, is this it? And maybe part of the reason my soul recoils from the idea of Rory ending up with Logan is that it's just so DISAPPOINTING! Like, that's it? That's the "great love" she gets? I love Rory and she has such a lively, eager mind! And it just makes me sad to think of her ending up with some guy she doesn't even have anything to talk about with after the thrill of sex has faded. 😕 Boring, boring, boring!

[moonlightspencie]

told ya if it was james i could ask for that

lets go for either fake dating goes very wrong (very right—) after a few firewhiskeys

or

fake hating as reader is the captain of slytherin’s quidditch team

or reader’s first time that she wants to get over and just do it with a friend she trusts and he ends up confessing mid sex

or all three, or none!!! but hope at least one helps w the fixation !!

just posted the third idea here. this is literally from december. it has been six months lmaooo. time to write at long last and YEAH its gonna be the ~fake dating~ one.

james potter x reader

----------------

"This is ridiculous," you grumbled from atop James's lap.

He rolled his eyes, his arms around you as you both sat in the chair. He'd dragged you to some house party with the intention of getting the attention of Lily Evans. It was his newest scheme, and the only reason you agreed was because he promised to pay your rent for three months. He had money to spare, and you had some free time: a match made in heaven, apparently.

"Quit being a baby about it," he mumbled softly.

"She's not even sparing a glance this way, James," you note, taking a sip of your drink. He took it out of your hand a second later, downing the rest of it. You scoffed, "hey!"

"Yeah?" he smirked.

"That was mine."

"What's mine is yours, and vice versa, babe."

"You're really milking this."

"And your rent is paid. Suck it up, love," he kissed your cheek.

You felt heat rising in your cheeks, but you were determined to blame it on the drinks. No way in hell you'd let yourself be caught blushing over a man you were in a fake relationship with.

"Do you want more?" he asked softly, rubbing your thigh.

You quirked your brow. "Careful. Don't be too nice to me, or else I might think you actually like me."

"Hm," he shrugged, looking at you with an oddly soft gaze. Then his signature smirk made a reappearance. "Bet you'd like that."

"Oh, please," you roll your eyes.

He laughed again, hugging you to him tightly. "She's looking now."

You raised your brows, trying hard to look nonchalant as you scoped the room. You definitely saw Lily looking, but she seemed more confused than jealous. Probably not the reaction James was hoping for.

"Aren't we supposed to be trying to make her jealous? She just looks a bit confused, James," you say quietly, stroking his hair.

"Really?" he pouted, glancing back at Lily briefly. "Damn it."

"Tough luck, Potter," you said, about to stand up to refill your drink.

Before you could get far, he pulled you back down, pressing a firm kiss to your lips. You squealed in surprise, unsure if you should push him away or give in. Logically, you should want to slap him. But his lips were soft and you were tipsy... so you kissed him back.

You sighed into it as he wrapped his arms around you, deepening the kiss until you felt dizzy. It was intoxicating and terribly embarrassing to admit that you really liked it. You felt like you'd fallen into a daze when he finally pulled away, both of your eyes on one another.

"Um..." you say after a beat, feeling disoriented.

"That was... Just trying to make Lily jealous," he said quietly, his eyes still on your lips.

"Yeah. Just to... Right."

He started leaning in again before quickly pulling back. "I⎻I'm gonna refill our drink."

"Oh. Okay," you nodded, standing up, then falling back into the seat as he started walking towards the drink table, still not sparing a glance at Evans as he did. You took a deep breath, unable to stop looking at him. You groaned, covering your warm face with your hand. "Fuck."

[scenetocause]

hello! here to ask for max f & lando -💜 impulsive kiss, please (if that takes your fancy) :)

sorry this took me ages! i was laid low with perversions.

It's not like it used to be, when they did bits all the time. It was easy, when they were karting and then a bit more complicated when they were in completely fucking different series, a bit easier again when Max got to F3. Much easier when he dropped out and moved in.

But now they both have other people they're supposed to be copping off with and when they get time together there's so much hanging out they have to get done, on a tight schedule now, that it doesn't really come up. When you've only got 36 hours to fit in three months of best friend time then dick touching can get shoved down the agenda a bit in favour of worrying about their proper relationships and gossiping about what Tom's been up to now and did you know Ria's got a boyfriend now, mate? Bloke's fucking massive, thought a mountain had walked into the office.

He knows how Max crumples his face up in concentration when he's about to come, like he has to focus on the goal. That he really likes having his arse played with but he's touchy about it sometimes, still, gets all tense and bent up about it if Lando tries anything stupid, won't let him at all if he makes any jokes. Doesn't mind putting Lando's cock in his mouth, usually but Max'd rather lie back a lot of the time, make Lando do all the work. Likes to be held, after, fall asleep together for a bit even if it's 11am and Jon's due in half an hour.

So, yeah, it's not like they're not doing it. They could do it. It's just that they mostly haven't been, for a bit. Which makes it weird, when he wins and Max isn't there because there's fucking nothing more Lando wants to do, suddenly, than wank each other off in his hotel room so they're both all glazed before they even get to the club.

Snogging Oscar, later, is interesting - he's a bit of a perv, that Piastri. Sticks his hand down the back of Lando's suit trousers and presses a sweaty fingertip to his arsehole, like Oscar's just checking it's there or something. Reminding himself Lando's fuckable, who knows. It's not the same, though, so Lando ends up trying to jack it in bed with one foot on the floor to stop the room spinning and passing out before he makes himself come.

Then it's ages, isn't it because Max doesn't come to Monaco, either. Because he's making a home with his girlfriend and that's fine, good even, they'll probably be having kids sooner or later won't they and doesn't that make Lando feel something like vertigo. F1 race winner, dad - they're not supposed to be doing them as separate routes. They could've been both, together.

But then there's the football, yeah. And Max texts him some shit like looking pretty decent there Bob almost had me convinced you know ball and Lando's trying not to blush at his phone like an idiot or anything because sometimes, you know. It's nice, still. That Max likes him.

Obviously they have to run into fucking Oleksandr Usyk and it's a bit weird, innit, that he recognises Lando first and then Max is all in awe and trying to tell Lando who the bloke is which, right, he doesn't really care all that much.

"You'd think his face'd get more fucked up, doing all that stuff. You're looking like you've gone more rounds than him, mate-"

"Shut up." It's alright, Max taking the piss out of him. Makes him feel less self-conscious about it, really.

"Make me, then." And Max throws his fists up into some poor imitation of a boxing stance, so Lando's pretty sure he meant something else but also he's laughing and knocking his shoulder into Lando's and his mouth is pink and warm and the most familiar of any Lando's ever touched his own to.

It's not a long kiss, they're standing on a London street, in broad daylight, it'd be stupid to get all hot and heavy with it. Jesus, what if P catches them? Just their fucking luck she'd be popping out for milk or something.

But it's enough. Lando's hands closing around Max's fists to draw him close, quickly. Just a taste of each other's tongues, musky with coffee and matcha. A reminder of how they are when they're like this.

(Perfect. Lando's confident they'll sort it all out one day, just need to get the other stuff out of their systems first but they'll never stop coming back to this.)

"Didn't know boxing got you all hot and bothered, Bob." Max shoves him away a bit, only to pull them back together. It's the same way they always are.

"Nah," he feels honest, free with it, like the relief across the finish line. "Only you."

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

10. The Revenge

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence.

From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen @one-of-thewalkingdead

Seconds before I’m about to walk out the door, Miss Williams's warning rings in my head. I allow the madness to take hold of me. I retrieved the small listing device from all those months ago. Something in me wouldn’t allow me to throw it away the first time.

The drive was no less frustrating. The closer I got the more I wondered about the warning. Vault Tech was indeed crooked, but killers? I couldn’t wrap my mind around such a theory.

I’m escorted to Barb’s office. The meeting is running late. Such a surprise. As I sit alone in the silent space. The darkness creeps in once more. I dig into my pocket and grasp the listening device placing it inside my ear. The static clears and voices can be heard.

“Mr. Howard, would you mind if Barb’s assistant pops in for a quick hello? He’s a big fan.” I nod with the practiced actor's smile, “of course.”

She dips back behind the doorway leaving me to listen to the conversations in the meeting room. “Our sales are fine. Sure, rumors of the peace negotiations have set us back a bit, but we're here to offer you an opportunity. We'd like to collaborate on some of our vaults.”

“I-I don't get the vaults. When it's time to come out, what if people are still alive on the surface?

They'll be Stone Age creatures. Probably eat whoever steps out of your vaults.”

“That isn't an issue. Our vaults have the resources to survive for centuries. Meanwhile, our competitors... you know, every other human

who isn't us... will be dead on the surface. Because after all, what is the ultimate weapon of mass destruction?”

“Time is the apex predator. And in the event of an incident, time is the weapon with which we will defeat all of our enemies. That is how we will win the great game of capitalism. Not by outfighting anyone, but by outliving them.”

“Even if you outlive all external threats, here's my problem with the vaults. You confine a bunch of rats in a nest for a long time, they end up eating each other. So who's to say your rats are gonna survive better than those animals on the surface?”

Everyone overlaps each other bickering back and forth to no end. “If I could refocus the discussion.” Barb's voice pipes up, “When I think about the future, I think about my daughter... Janey. How do I provide her with a better future? That's what we've invited you here to discuss.” They agree in the room. “And how do we design our vault societies so our children have that better future? I suggest we hedge our bets. Bud here has an idea for three interconnected vaults. But we need more ideas. We need your ideas. Because it was the spirit of competition that made our companies great, and I propose we bring that same spirit of competition to our solution.”

“We have over a hundred vaults spread across America. Enough for each of you to claim several, where you can play out your own ideas for how to create the perfect conditions for humanity. Whatever you want to do, no one needs to know. And may the best idea win.”

I can’t believe what I am hearing. Humans are viewed as nothing more than experiments.

“So what's Vault 32 and 33? Just people to be controlled?”

“What? No! When you put it like that, it sounds downright morally questionable. They're our breeding pool, the ultimate expression of HR R&D. Genetically selected to breed with my Buds to create a class of super managers. People with positivity, people who make lemonade. People who will inherit the Earth after we've wiped the surface clean. I have our first test subject lined up for freezing in the upcoming months.”

“We could intentionally overcrowd a vault so people have to compete to survive inside it.

We have been developing a Synthetic humanoid bot replicating (y/n) (l/n). It has a memory hard drive the size of a large computer. I would like to see a vault governed by it.”

“What about using a vault to develop a super-mutant soldier using illegal immigrants?”

“We could pump psychotropic drugs into the air supply.”

“We could separate parents and children, and only the smartest kids reach adulthood.”

“There's a lot of earning potential with the end of the world. But we're talking about making a significant investment based on a hypothetical. How can you guarantee results?”

Silence resumes before my heart clenches and my mouth falls agape at the words I hear ring in my head. Barb's chilling voice speaks, “By dropping the bomb ourselves.”

“Mr. Howard? Everything all right, Mr. Howard?” I shake my head, in shock, I get to compose myself but just remain a shell of a man. They are going to kill her…

“Uh, fine. I'm-I'm... I'm-I'm fine, Betty.” She opens the door further, “He is so excited to meet you.” A young skinny man walks through the door. He grasps my hand, “Mr. Howard.

Huge fan. I'm Henry, but, uh, everyone calls me Hank. Wow. I played for (y/n) at the wrap party.”

Did he? Poor soul of a boy was so unrememberable. I shake his hand with a ghostly smile. “You know, that scene? That scene where you shoot Joey Toro in the face? Feo, fuerte y formal.” He stumbles over his words, “I was just wondering, if-if... if you don't mind, um, I hate to be that guy, but, do you think you could give me an autograph?” As requested he gets what he wants. A quick scratch of my signature on a slip of paper.

Barb slipped into her office just as I passed Hank the paper. “Oh, Cooper. I didn’t know you’d be here this early. Sorry, you had to wait.” I shake my head, begging myself to remain calm. “Did you sign them?” I rush her, trying to leave this building full of sorry excuses of Americans' work.

She opens up a folder and examines the contents inside. With a nod of her head, Barb shuts it with a grin, passing it to me. Lo and behold she did sign it. I leave the building feeling my heart beat out of my chest. I have to get home to my love. This all could’ve been a ploy to get her alone.

I rush home, bursting through the door, and go right to the living room. Empty. I walk to the kitchen. Empty. Bedroom? Empty. Basement? Empty.

“(Y/n)?” I double-check the entire house twice. And still no sign of her. “(Y/n)!” Screaming and tracking my steps backward. I run out the back and into the barn. Sugarfoot remains as happy as could be, but no (y/n) inside. “Where are you at, honey? (Y/n)!” My head begins spinning. She’s gone…

“Cooper?” I spin around at the speed of lightning. There at the entrance of the barn stood (y/n) safe and sound. I rush for her, gathering her frame in my arms. “Are you okay?” She asks, running her delicate finger through my hair. I hold her close, a firm grip on her. She was mine to protect and that I would do until I was sent to my grave.

~

“What is this?” Cooper asks holding up a check from Vault Tech. “Oh, I got a call a few weeks ago. They told me I was needed back in the lab because they had to do a remodel on the bots. I'm assuming that’s the check.” I return to my notebook trying to compose.

“You didn’t tell me.” “Did I need to?” He stares at me, an unreadable expression covering his face. “I would’ve appreciated it.” I nod, “Okay. I’ll make sure to let you know in the future.” Once again I return to the notebook.

“Did anyone say anything to you?” I look up at him, “like what?” “Like… out of line, or unprofessional.” I shake my head, furrowing my brows. “No. Everyone was very nice.” “What did you do there?” “I picked out wigs for the bot out of the choices they had made and I picked out the makeup that would be applied.” He stays silent, his foot tapping as he thinks. I close my notebook and adjust my body to face him, “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no. Just… didn’t expect you to do any more business with them.” I narrow my eyes at him in confusion. “It’s money, Coop. We’ve got bills. I don’t tour for another 6 months. Is it that big of a deal?”

He runs a hand through his hair, “Yeah it is.” A nervous sweat engulfed him. “You… we shouldn’t do any business with them. Not anymore.” He practically pleads as he grabs my hand. Tracing the lines on my palm, memorizing their curves. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” Confused and slightly worried. I comfort him in the presence of my arms. He relaxed at the touch.

~

Cooper was gone filming, and I lazily lay on the couch having a day for myself. Cheese plate on the coffee table and a glass of wine in hand. The phone rings causing me to roll my eyes.

“Hello, (y/n) speaking.”

“(Y/n)! Henry here.”

I furrow my brows. “Hi, what can I help you with?” He gulps on the other side of the line, “Listen, we need you to come down to the labs in 31. We’ve got some remodels to get your approval of.” I bite my lip. “Oh, Henry I wish I could, but-“ he interrupted with haste, “it will only take a few minutes. Promise.” I sigh looking at the clock. Cooper was busy on set, and I had no way of reaching him.

“Only a few minutes,” I say in a firm tone. “Yes, yes, of course! Just meet me outside the building and I’ll escort you to 31.”

~

The large metal door closed behind me with a loud mechanical hum. "Geez." I laugh awkwardly. It's so quiet in here. "I've never been down this far before." Henry leads the way silently. "They're just around the corner, here." I look behind me, my nerves growing. Something doesn't sit right. "Where is everyone?" He doesn't answer, instead, he walks over to a number pad and types away. To my right sits rows of large glass pods. One individual opens with a hiss. The freezing vapor seeps from the pod quickly. "What’s going on?" Before I can turn around I feel a sharp prick in my neck. "Ouch!" I grab my neck and force myself to turn around, my muscle’s already losing functionality.

There she stands with an empty injection needle and a stone-cold expression. "Barb?" I ask in shock, "What did you do to me?" I feel myself sway, my legs losing the ability to hold myself up. "We needed a test subject, and well, you didn't read the fine print in your contract." I fall the the ground, grasping the edges of her dress. "Barb, please." She glares at me, "You want me to take pity on you? After everything you did to me, you're lucky this is as far as I am going to go. Have a nice nap, (y/n)." I collapse fully onto the metal floor completely unconscious.

~

While (y/n) was frozen, her home was ransacked, her belongings torn into, and valuables gathered. Random items such as photo books, jewelry, clothing, makeup, and random items were taken and put into boxes. Samples of her blood scattered about the home. A knife lay on the kitchen floor with her fingertips. A home invasion turned wrong in the worst ways possible.

The worst sight for Cooper Howard to return home to. Their home is broken into, furniture and belongings broken, and his songbird missing from the cage. Her blood painting the grounds of the property.

Calling the police did nothing. Cooper was looked at as the main suspect. Struggle actor with a young successful beauty on his arm? Why not marry her in haste and claim her fortune? They were wrong in every part. The only reason he got off was because they were unable to find a body. No body no crime.

However, the public didn’t view it as such. If his reputation wasn’t ruined before it was now. Half the people blamed him, calling him a murderer as he walked down the street, and then some souls would take pity on him. The only thing to do was drown himself in drinks and other questionable substances. Cooper Howard was struggling more day by day.

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (12)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: T (reference to prior acts) Words: 1.2k Summary: "Thanks." "Anytime."

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

He ain’t got no right to feel hurt.

After he’d come harder than he had in a century, spilling his seed across those soft thighs of hers, he’d tried to kiss her. He knew better, but for some reason thought it might be different after.

She’d rejected him, of course.

Why wouldn’t she? She was all smooth skin and cool blood, and she’d made her stance on kisses abundantly clear. But after that ride he was certain she’d change her mind. 

He was a damned fool.

He needs to get away, to shimmy out of this hole they were trapped in and get his bearings again. Put some distance between them. The deathclaw was long gone, no reason to keep hiding.

Except…

Except she was still panting under him, round breasts pressed to his chest with each inhale. He hadn’t imagined how wet she was for him, the way she’d come apart on his cock… nor had he imagined that other thing.

It was enough to drive a man to drink. 

Deciding discretion is the better part of valor he digs in his pocket, finding a scrap of cloth and using it to wipe the cum from her skin before it can begin to burn. “You’ll need a dose of Rad-Away,” he tells her and she turns back, blinking up at him in confusion for a moment before her lips part in a silent ‘o’.

“I didn’t even think about that.”

No she hadn’t, and she hadn’t considered that he was as liable to eat her as he was to fuck her once they were in those tight quarters. She’d trusted him implicitly, which was an idiotic thing to do.

“C’mon, let’s get out and see what’s going on.” He uses one hand to do up his trousers then slides past her, scooping his hat back up and glancing around. There’s footprints in the floor but no sign of any danger. He turns back to tell her as much but she’s already there, dress still pushed to her waist and looking like she’d just been ridden hard.

His mouth goes instantly dry.

She doesn’t meet his eye when she fusses with the straps of the dress and he steps forward without thinking, pulling one up and settling it on her shoulder with careful fingers. She shivers under his touch and he cups her neck, forcing her to look up at him.

“Why’d you do it?”

“I don’t know.”

It’s a terrible answer, one that gnaws at him as he steps away and fishes for his pack and gloves. He finds hers first, passing the bag her direction without a word. When he sets off again it’s parallel to the mountains they’re aiming for but she doesn’t say a word, keeping one step behind him.

The place he stops at for the night used to be a gas station, concrete on three sides with an easy vantage point from the front. They run off a mole rat and then he gives her the go ahead when she asks about a fire. The smell of roasted iguana fills the space while they sit silently across from each other.

“I wanted to.”

He cocks his head at her. They hadn’t exchanged more than three words in the last four hours.

“You asked why I… because I wanted to. Because I wanted you. Even though I shouldn’t.”

“Because I’m a ghoul,” he finishes for her with a scowl.

“Because I’m me and you’re…. you don’t know what I am.”

The bounty. He’d almost forgotten it. The poster was burning a hole in his pack and he’d all but decided to put off claiming it for at least a month. But she didn’t know that - didn’t know that he knew she was wanted by someone.

It was the perfect time to come clean - so of course he doesn’t. She continually surprised him and without knowing what her reaction was he wasn’t willing to risk it.

“I know you looked mighty pretty with my cock in you.” Her eyes fly to his and he grins, feeling himself warm when she laughs.

“It felt mighty pretty.”

That gets a laugh from him and he sets his hat aside and leans back against the rubble behind him. “Reckon it’s not what a filly imagines for her first time though, in the dirt like that.”

“You noticed.”

He snorts, “Damn hard not to.” 

Biting her lip she glances up at him from under long eyelashes before shaking her head. “You ever spent your whole life preparing to be one thing - only to realize you never really wanted it in the first place?”

He manages to keep his face impassive by a hairsbreadth. “I reckon I can imagine that.”

“I was… raised to be the perfect wife to someone. Be their partner, be only theirs… I never got to make any choices for myself. It was always someone else’s plan.” She pauses and stares down at her hands, “I never thought I would get to choose who my first time was with.”

“Don’t reckon you had much a choice as it was with my ass rutting on top of you.”

She gifts him with a wide smile, “Is that how you remember it?” When he doesn’t reply she continues, “If I’d told you no would you have stopped?”

“I like to think I would have but to be honest I don’t rightly know, hard to think when you’ve got a pair of tits in your face like that.”

The tension in the air breaks and she gives him a mock frown. “Excuse you, I believe it was your tits in my face.”

“And I seem to recall you were having a mite of trouble yourself with keeping your thoughts straight.”

You both break into soft laughter. Silence fills out the space for a few minutes, the only sounds the crackling of the fire.

“Thank you.”

He nearly chokes on his tongue. A dozen jokes leap to mind but she’s not meeting his eyes. He lets it sit before finally replying, “Anytime, darling.” The arch of her neck calls to him and he coughs suddenly, taking a hit of chem.

“I don’t think we should,” she says with a small frown. “It’s dangerous.”

“Shit, you take that Rad-Away yet?”

Her eyes go wide with panic and he pushes himself to his feet, squatting next to her and taking the pack she offers. She doesn’t hesitate to offer her arm, not flinching when he slides the needle in. He sets the meds above her head and flicks the tube until he’s satisfied it’s moving.

Oh, but those big bright eyes of hers are staring up at him like he hung the moon in the sky and he’s already forgotten what had him so irritated all afternoon.

“Thanks,” she says again.

“Anytime.”

He doesn’t move, hovering over her, and she doesn’t ask him to. After a moment she reaches up and tugs at his coat, pulling him to sit next to her and then leaning into his shoulder. A million different thoughts war within him before he does the thing he most wants, which is to wrap an arm around her and pull her against his side.

“Sleep,” he tells her. “I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

☢ ☢ ☢

For updates follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

[damn-stark]

Final chapter the last ballad of the Fallen

Final chapter of Sugar

A/N- Thank you so much for staying tuned to this series and giving it so much love, I appreciate every single one of you that gave me the motivation to keep writing! I love you all so much, thank you and I really hope you like this last chapter!!

Warning- FLUFF!!! talks of death and violence, SPOILERS!!!!

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Episode and or chapters- none

————

Dear Satoru,

It’s been 6 months since the fall of Sukuna. It’s been six months since the merger and curses and cursed techniques as we know them have been eradicated.

You would think the world would know some kind of peace without getting terrorized by beasts. You would assume that the Jujutsu society as you know it would collapse with no true relevance behind it anymore, but roots can’t truly die without yanking them out of the ground.

How poetic of me I know, you’d laugh at me until you heard the whisperings I’ve heard about a fallen sorcerer taking a grip on the power-hungry minds of our old world, with no promise for revival of our power, just a promise of control, security, justice, and a grander eternity, a better society.

They’re all true markings of a messiah, a god, a prophet, a savior.

You would think they wouldn’t believe it, we’re too smart for that, aren’t we? But they all bow at the feet of none other than your little sister.

It seems she truly took something from Suguru. Maybe we should blame him for feeding her his crap. But then again all he would be is glad that she’s becoming the leader he only dreamed of becoming.

If only you were here, Satoru, you would have stopped her before she even could start scheming. Now who will stop her?

All the big sorcerer families follow her because they fear losing their control and power, even the quiet Inumaki family have a lot to say about her now since she turned them into one of the big three after the extinction of the Zen’in’s. And the Kamo’s are no better.

You would think Choso would stop her, and knock some sense into her, but maybe I’m expecting too much from him, he follows her blindly. Not even Yuji could convince him to talk to her, the boy is neither here nor there. He’s neutral, and why wouldn’t he be? He lost a lot. A promise for a greater tomorrow is tempting, even to me, but I couldn’t follow her. She doesn’t even talk to me, I don’t know how long she’ll stay mad at me. Maybe forever?

All I know about her is things I hear from whispers of other people; Kirara, or Yuji, but even that’s rare since I don’t really see them anymore.

What I do know is that what she’s doing is kind of working I admit that. After all, you paved the way after you killed the higher-ups. I would scold you over the outcome, but you’re not here so I’ll let you off and actually tell you that you’re having a niece and nephew; Tsukuyomi and Suki, did she ever tell you the names she and Choso picked?

I’m sorry I don’t know more, I wish I did, I wish I knew why she’s doing what she’s doing at great risk to her beloved peaceful life. Control? Power? Fear of being weak? I don’t know, I’m sorry. I really am.

That’s all I wanted to tell you this time, it’s something I couldn’t say out loud. And even if you’ll never read this it helped.

Yours truly, Shoko.

——

*YOU*

You can hear it, the cries of regret and sorrow echoing from the fire.

You can smell the smoke and flesh like something out of an apocalypse. But what is terror compared to the adrenaline rushing through your veins as people bow at your feet, in the same way, non-sorcerers would bow to Suguru?

Even if they are escaping their demise you still stand tall over the people accepting the way things need to be.

After desiring nothing but a better world for most of your life, finally you’re seeing that dream come true.

And yes there is an argument that can be had over the fact that cursed techniques and the power behind cursed energy are gone forever, but nothing changes who you all are and the society you were all born into. Everyone bowing sees that, you see that, and the people you love see that.

“Today marks an end to the old world,” you announce proudly to the crowd of ex-sorcerers. “Today marks the beginning of change and the start of our new world. We may not have our power, but we still know who we are, no one can take that away,” you trail on softer, causing murmurs to spread throughout the crowd.

“We will not fall. We will not be forgotten, we will live on as a greater society, better than the one the higher-ups and the old stubborn heads of our clans forced us to live under,” you don’t falter or let your confidence slip. Your smirk holds your glory, and your eyes shout your pride as well as your gentleness and sincerity.

Yet there’s a drop in your voice, one only Choso, Kirara, and Hakari can detect. “Part of it is due to…my brother, the wielder of the six eyes, and the limítless technique, Satoru Gojo,” you pause and sigh, as well as feel a weight fall on your frail chest. “He paved the way when he got rid of the higher-ups once and for all. He wanted a better world for the next generation, for the students he taught and cherished, and for the people he loved. He’s gone now but his will will not be forgotten, not by me. He’s part of the reason why I stand here…as well as for the ones I've lost, the ones treated unfairly because of what they were,” you mention and remember Nanako and Mimiko before you glance at Choso to speechlessly let him know that his brothers were in mind when you spoke those words.

“The ones snubbed,” you continue and now meet the gazes of Hakari and Kirara so they know you haven’t forgotten them or the treatment they were put under. When you look back at the ground you aim to portray the same sincerity so they know you mean what you’re saying and so that they can trust you.

“…And for all of you. Today marks the start of a new world for all of us!” You exclaim and grin, and much to your surprise the crowd erupts with excitement after a promise of a new tomorrow where the power they wield doesn’t really have to die. They’ll never know true power anymore, but thanks to what you promise they’ll never know the true loss of control or be as frail as the true non-sorcerers.

That should make you happy too—you are, you’re proud. You look at Choso standing beside you and find comfort and joy in holding his hand. You glance over at Kirara, Harkari, Larue, Miguel, and the rest of your family and you’re happy that you can keep your word for a better tomorrow, but when you see the mirage of your brother standing in front of the crowd, nothing takes away from the loneliness that surrounds you.

You’re isolated in a sea of solitude without him. You thought it would go away when Choso came back to life because that’s when it really sunk in, but this loneliness is deep and scarred in your bones with the only cure being your brother.

But you can’t live like that, you can’t wait for someone who won’t return, so you lead this change in your society, but the only thing that changed is seeing him standing there watching you.

Doesn’t he understand you're doing this all for him?

——

*10 YEARS LATER*

Dear Dad,

We’ve returned to our beach house in Italy, it’s been a few days since we got here. I’m sorry I haven’t caught up with you lately, life is pretty busy being the eldest of four siblings. It makes me think that Nanako and Mimiko had it easy with me when I was young.

As always I much prefer my time away from Japan, even if it is where I was born, it stopped feeling like home when you died. I didn’t realize that uneasiness until I got older. Plus with the Zen’in bastards demanding to pick up the family title and take the lands from Maki, Mother was pretty busy, it was only until a few weeks ago that she was able to find peace once again.

Now Maki still holds her family title and the lands that belong to her. And don’t worry, Kinji and Kirara stand in my mother's stead while she’s here. With them in Japan, the bastards won’t try to take advantage of her being on vacation. Actually, I don’t think it’s possible that they’ll try anything again, Mother made sure of it.

I only hope I am half the leader she is when it’s my turn to lead. Only two years left. Of course, mother says I can take my time, she doesn’t mind, but I know she’s exhausted, she can’t hide it from me anymore, I’m 16 now. And how could I delay mothers' hard work? She’s paved the way for me to step up and take my rightful place, I’m the future.

Or at least Mother says that’s what our people see when they look at me…if I’m honest I’m quite nervous, I wish you could comfort me.

One day right?

Anyway, speaking of mother, since we’ve gotten to our beach house mother has been lost in her thoughts a lot. She’s been more quiet than usual, she’s usually so happy and relaxed when she’s away from prying eyes and work, but ever since we’ve gotten here it seems like she’s…I don’t know, sad?

Maybe it’s her technique, she says she never regrets giving up her technique to save Choso’s life, but I see her, like I see her now out by the calm shore.

She misses the feel of the water embracing her, and I don’t mean the water we see around us, the small droplets of water not visible to the naked eye. She misses the fire's warmth under her skin, she misses the gentleness of the earth, and the whispers of the breeze. I know she does, I’m looking at her now, standing on the shore, letting the waves unfurl over her feet as she watches the horizon longingly.

I wish I could find something to say to her, like you always did—but then again, there Choso goes to her with little Ryusei in hand, and the moment they meet her at shore she smiles with all the endearment and joy, as if she’d give it all away without a thought just to live to see these moments.

But I still wonder what it is that has her so lost in thought…

Maybe I’ll ask her, what do you think?

Anyway, that's all for now. I’ll talk to you soon.

Love always, Satori

——

*YOU*

When is this loneliness supposed to go away? After ten years, the grief is supposed to turn to just simple memories and deep longing for the ones you lost, but the grief for Satoru still plagues you as if you had just lost him.

Why?

You grieved Suguru and came to peace with his loss. You were able to make peace with the loss of your twins and Kiyoshi. You grieved and moved from all those you lost. Choso, who has a big heart and spent a hundred and fifty years with his brothers was able to move on from his grief, but you can’t move past missing your brother.

You see him everywhere you go, no matter how far. He haunts your mind, and your dreams, and from time to time he plagues your happiness and turns it to ashes in your mouth.

You can be happy, you find your joy in many things, like Choso and all your children; and yes that includes Kirara and Hakari too. So you can be happy, but Satoru has left you living your worst fear. He’s left you alone for all eternity, and no matter how much you want to shake it, that ill feeling stays with you as if it were a part of you.

You do try to find a solution to your solitude, but it’s not in the breeze, or in the warm salt water that washes over your feet. It's not in the warm dancing flames or in the gentle earth. It lies in the grave with him. That’s your lifelong punishment…

You sigh deeply and longly, missing the approaching footsteps hitting the sand because of the waves crashing against shore. You don’t get alerted of the approaching presence until you hear a sweet voice call out to you. “Mama!”

You immediately find a reason to smile and when you turn around there they are like a light at the end of a tunnel, Choso and Ryusei.

“You’re finally awake!” You fawn over your 2-year-old child.

“You looked quite lonely out here,” Choso says as if he can read your mind. “So we thought we’d join you.”

You meet them halfway once they get close to shore and take Ryusei from Choso’s hold.

“You okay?” Choso presses, making your smile falter, but you don’t let Ryusei see it, you keep your smile plastered and that happy gleam in your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m just lost in thought,” you don’t lie since he knows you too well, and he also helps you in your lowest moments. You don’t want to lose that because you want to spare him from knowing your complex feelings; you'll talk to him in the same way he talks with you when it’s just the two of you alone.

“Hm,” Choso comprehends and closes the gap left between him and you to cup your cheek and caress your soft flesh.

“It’s a good thing we came when we did then, hm, Ryu?”

Said boy ignores his father and fiddles with the locket hanging off your neck.

“He hangs out too much with Yuji, don’t you, little one?” You tease him and tickle his belly, making him giggle before he searches the area.

“Uncle Yuji?” Ryusei now asks hopefully.

Choso shakes his head. “He’s not here yet, he’s coming tomorrow,”

Ryusei holds his father's gaze as the gears in his mind turn. He seems to understand the meaning but looks disappointed nonetheless.

“Maybe tonight we sleep outside?” You direct at Choso and bounce your eyebrows.

“Like in the grass?”

You look at him seriously before you snort and break into a lively chuckle. “No, silly, like in a tent. After we have a nice late-night picnic?”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” you nod with a grin. “I want to talk to you.”

Choso blinks and immediately stiffens. “About?” He probes.

You glance at the little boy in your arms and then back at Choso and shoot him a taunting smirk. “You’ll have to wait won’t you?”

Choso sighs and rolls his eyes. “It better be something worthwhile. You always leave me hanging.”

You giggle and lean towards him. “Aw baby, don’t worry,” you tease him. “We’re not breaking up. It’s not that talk.”

“Tsk.”

“Tsk,” Ryusei mocks his father, making both Choso and you look at your son quietly before you can’t help but feed into his habit by laughing. Ryusei laughs along with you but he’s quick to stray away and go limp, like a dead body, meaning he wants to be put down.

He’s so dramatic.

“All right, all right,” you trail off and put him down on the sand, but stay crouched to be at his level.

“Want to put your feet in the water?” You ask as you plant your palm on the sand and let him watch the wave roll over your hand before it gently pulls away.

Ryusei sees that it’s not hurting you so he bends down to mimic you and place his palm on the sand. As the wave takes a second to approach he looks back at Choso cautiously, but your husband shows no fear to reassure the boy.

“It’s okay,” Choso tells him. “It won’t hurt you this time.”

After being shoved back by a rough wave Ryusei has been very cautious about stepping back into the ocean or lake. He likes baths just fine, it’s just these large bodies of water that he’s grown very cautious over, so ever since then you’ve been trying to pull that fear out of him as best as you can without the abilities that once would wow Nanako, Mimiko, and Satori when they were children.

Albeit it's hard, it’s safe to say Ryusei wouldn’t have inherited your elemental technique if those still existed. Perhaps not even blood manipulation, he’s too gentle for it. Maybe something new, but who knows now.

Nevertheless, the wave finally rolls back in, but the moment the water submerges Ryusei’s hand he shrieks and quickly throws himself on you to escape such an evil element.

“Oh,” you coo and stifle your laugh. “It’s okay, the water is a good friend.”

You wrap your arm around him and lean in to press a kiss on his cheek, but Ryusei immediately pulls away as if you’ve done something horrible and wipes away your kiss.

“That’s mean Ryu,” Choso remarks, but the boy ignores him and instead points at his dad, meaning one thing, so you can’t help but flash a flustered smile before you give him what he wants and lean towards Choso to give him a juicy kiss on his lips, making Choso beam at you, and Ryusei giggle and cling onto you.

If this had been Amaterasu when she was Ryusei’s age, she would have smacked you for giving her dad so much affection in front of her. She was very clinging to Choso when she was younger, she still is, but less so because she’s 6 now. “She’s a big girl”, she says—Whatever, Daddy’s girl.

Nonetheless, just as you're thinking of the girl, she comes over running as if your thoughts had summoned her.

“Daddy! Mom! Suki and Tsu are fighting!”

Of course, peace is merely a dream now in your house, and it seems that as the older they get the chaos only gets wilder. But you can’t complain, they’re the reason you smile.

“They listen to you,” Choso immediately tells you as the shouting approaches.

“Yeah because I put my foot down,” you remind him of your stricter ways. “But I don’t think they need me to intervene yet.

“You’ll ground them ma?” Amaterasu immediately searches for strife. “I told them you would, Tsu pulled Suki's hair!”

You and Choso share a knowing look before drifting your focus to Suki and Tsukuyomi approaching whilst they’re in the midst of an argument of whodunit.

“Why do you always act so grown!” Suki shouts after her brother. “You never listen to me, I didn’t do it!”

Baby Ryusei turns to watch his siblings as they get closer with way too much amusement.

“Mom!” Tsukuyomi calls out for you and picks up his pace when he spots you close to the shore. “Mom, Suki—”

“Yeah snitch to mommy, mommas boy,” Suki grumbles with no attempt to actually be discreet, which in turn causes Tsukuyomi to halt dead in his tracks and spin on his heels to let his twin sister come to a skidding stop so he can pull her hair in the blink of an eye.

Ryusei bursts out laughing as if it’s the funniest thing in the world, while Tsukuyomi exclaims at his sister. “Shithead!”

Suki grabs his wrist and doesn’t get discouraged, she snaps back just as fiercely. “Amaterasu said that because it’s true,” she snickers, and the youngest girl lunges towards them to lie and defend herself.

“No, I didn’t! Daddy,” she drags Choso in. “I didn’t say it!”

Choso brushes his bangs back and walks over to break up the fight, you would go but it would just turn into a family brawl so you stay back and watch with slight amusement that might be too provoking in the sensitive situation, but you can’t help it. Besides, Satori walks over to join in the chaos and feeds you the correct intel.

“Suki and Amaterasu read Tsukuyomi’s journal and accidentally made it known by dropping water on some pages.”

Oh, sweet Amaterasu is such a good liar. You can imagine where she inherited such a habit, but you don’t want to even think of him. If Choso was okay with lying, he would tell his kids he and his brothers were gifted to his mother by some divine miracle, but if the kids ask he’s as honest as he can be. He’s too sweet to them, and as much as it bothers you at times, you can’t stay bothered or tell him to change, you love, love! that Choso is such a sweet and caring father, but sometimes it makes you the bad guy because you’re the one that disciplines them, but you don’t mean any harm and they know that when the storm passes. And as long as they do you’re okay with being the stricter parent, all you want is for them to have a sweet Father who isn’t afraid to love them.

You and Choso never had a caring father, so you want them to know a father's love, the same way Satori still cherishes Suguru’s unconditional love.

“Are you okay?” Satori breaks you away from the tension.

“Hm?” You probe in confusion.

Satori brushes her hair behind her ear and swallows back nervously before repeating herself. “Are you okay?”

You’re worried that she perhaps saw you outside wallowing in your solitude, but you’re also caught off guard because as you stare into her dark eyes you fail to see your little girl, she’s so grown up now; so much more mature and aware. It scares you that she’s so big, but you can’t help but be in awe too.

And as much as you want to hide your problems to spare her, you know that because she’s getting older she can bear more than she could when she was a child. So with some hesitance, you actually speak the sad truth. “I just miss Satoru, that's all.”

You briefly hold her gaze and see joy in her eyes because you confided in her, but you also catch pity for you too.

“Well,” she speaks softly. “It’s like Choso says, he lives inside us now, right?”

You sigh deeply and nod stiffly. “Yeah, that’s right. It’s just hard sometimes you know?”

“Hm, yeah I miss my dad all the time,” she says, making you close the gap between you to wrap your arm around her shoulder and pull her into a partial embrace.

Ryusei sees what’s happening and hugs your neck while he watches his father talk to the kids. You watch him too with a smile filled with pride and glee, but you also watch him with impatience because of what you have planned for the two of you later when the house is asleep and you finally have time to yourselves.

With four kids in the house, your time alone isn’t as common, so your escapes to be alone are special, especially the ones you plan because he always likes to beat you to the punch.

Nevertheless, what should’ve been a nice and passionate date outside under the clear night-littered sky, is ruined. Not by your children, but by rain that caught you by surprise and ruined your camping plans.

“Damn it! This sucks!” You whine.

Choso watches the rain fall over the tent and chuckles softly, making you pout.

“I told you it was going to rain today,” he remarks in amusement.

“It smells like rain doesn’t mean a thing,” you mock him and turn away from the back door to try and think of a quick solution that doesn’t involve just returning to your room and doing something there.

“Here,” Choso offers before he speed walks past you to exit the room, but then quickly return with your picnic box that you had pre-boxed while Ryusei ate his dinner.

“As much as I do enjoy a good time in the rain, we are more fragile now,” you remind him as if it hasn’t been a decade since you lost your techniques. “And as much as I do like taking care of you while you’re sick, please don’t do it on purpose.”

Choso shoots you a smirk before setting the box down, and pulling a blanket and candles out without letting your gaze go the entire time. And this time instead of interjecting you excitedly watch him extend the blanket in front of the glass door, and light the candles with a single match.

When he sits down he points to the empty spot across from him and you beam at him with admiration before plopping down and blurt the love you can’t contain. “See,” you whisper so sweetly that honey oozes off your voice. “I needed you.”

Through the candlelight you see Choso’s cheeks grow red the same way they did when you first met.

Even so, however, he doesn’t hold back either, he looks at you with never-ending love and admiration and fills the silence with sweet words. “And I’m glad my 150 years led me to you.”

You gasp softly and hold his gaze, and just like many times before, you see your happiness and the reminder of why you’ll never regret giving away a part of yourself for him. As strong as your technique made you, you love him more. And that will be the same in every lifetime.

You’re happy your life led you to him every day, even with all the bad you endured, you’ll go through it all again just be with him.

Does it sound selfish?

Maybe, but you don’t care.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Don’t you love when the ghosts of the dead haunt the mc’s? I love that trope! Also if Satoru somehow lives in the manga wouldn’t a sequel of this series be cool?

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest @natakina

[zoandreez]

the stars keep on calling my name, pt 1: ikran flying ⋆·˚ ༘ *

pairing: sully reader x ao'nung

summary: after spending your time in the awa'altu clan with the metkayina children, you've feel a bit homesick and decide to run back to what you know. a suprise comes to you when a special visitor wants to tag along. how long can he survive on an ikran?

word count: 798, a short one

warnings: if ur an avatar nerd, this doesn't really make sense plot-wise. sorry. (i don't care.)

a/n: sorry for taking 8 n a half months to make something but i got a few things for yall.. i hope. and yes i know this fic is kind of unrealistic but aren't they all? emd.

you were sick.

not literally, god no. you'd rather the sky people take your life now than show sign of weakness on this godforsaken water park. you hated it here.

your disdain for this place ran deep. you’ve endured nearly a year at awa’altu, long after the war had ended. don’t get me wrong, the clan's hospitality was great. you cherished the friendships formed over the year and were awestruck by the ocean's beauty. however, your heart longed for home.

the forest.

the trees you grew up with, and the familiar vines and cliffs you've climbed your entire life. and just suddenly, without warning, your father uprooted us all and relocated us to a barren land of wet sand and peculiar fish. and of course, you understood why we were doing this. you didnt want to hurt your clan by staying with your omaticayan family, and with the sky people haunting you, it seemed more than likely that staying with tonowari, ronal, and the rest of the metkayina was your best option. but still, it hurt. so,

you were leaving.

you finally mustered up the courage to sneak out of your marui that was wonderfully woven by the women of the clan, just for you and your family. it was late, so you didnt have to worry about your family seeing you as you continued to walk past the other pods.

lo'ak knew about your plan. tuk cried the night prior, but your feathered kisses to her forehead and promises to come back for her seemed to soothe her. kiri was upset that you didn't take her with you. neteyam would have told mom and dad, so he's oblivious to it all.

the stars glimmered in the night, making your bioluminescence shimmer in a way that made you look beautiful. as your feet left marks through the sand, your stride was confident. it was a way he had never seen before.

ao’nung.

you and ao’nung never had the best relationship, especially with you being from a foreign clan and even having the slightest bit of demon blood, even though it didnt show through your three fingers. he despised you and your family. except,

he couldnt get your beauty out of your head. he never could, and yet now, it was even worse.

striding down the wet sand, you could almost feel it turn into the mud and grass you would feel if you were back home. you could smell the mist, although it didn’t have a particular scent. it just smelled.. home-y. you took your ikran by its queue, the same way you would tug on a vine while climbing a tree, and hoisted yourself on before making the bond.

you had to feel the agitation in your ikran before you noticed ao'nung pathetically attempting to crawl onto her tail. she began to screech and flail her tail around before you protested.

"wait!" you whisper-yelled as he almost went flying into the ocean.

"where do you think you're going??" ao'nung said in a mocking tone. he was teasing you, but you weren't kidding this time.

"i'm leaving."

a moment of silence rolled over. ao'nung's face contorted in a way you'd never seen before. surely he'd run to tell your dad. but then.. his lips curled on his face. was he.. trying to smile? regardless, it wasn't a good look for him. after a while of you blankly staring back at him, he stopped.

"you're serious?"

"yes." you said before you turned away, shifted your posture, and your ikran stretched its wings. you leaned forward before the first flap into the air lifted you to home. the wings lifted..

"wait!" he shouted over your ikran's rustles.

"what?" you said agitated. now that the idea was taking place you couldn't wait to leave.

"take me with you."

now it was your turn to laugh. it was also your turn to ask if he was serious. and you still didn't believe him as he half-ass climed his way up onto your ikran.

"ao'nung, get off. i'm leaving."

"no."

"..suit yourself," you muttered. fly as reckless as you can, knock him off. your inner thoughts amused your ikran as she flew off as steep as she could.

ao'nungs screams could have been heard throughout the whole kingdom, if they weren't thousands of feet in the air. he held on to you as hard as possible as your ikran made short stops, dives, and spins you didn't even know she could do. your hair flew behind you into his face, so every now and then the putters of him spitting out a few lost strands made you laugh. eventually you told her to settle down.

out of breath, a smug ao'nung commented, "are you done trying to get me to fall off now?"

"yeah," you giggled through his sighs.

my short apology

... my bad cuz

[s0apmactav1sh]

More crappy thoughs coming from me.

Teenage!Simon Riley edition. With Bestfriend older brother troupe >:} (Reader is aged around 15 to 23.)

^ by this I mean simon from the ages 12 to around 20 and these are just silly things from my brain nothing got to do with his character in the game.

-Teenage!Simon who became bestfriends with your little brother pretty quick. The two stuck to each others hips. They were a do or die type friendship. If one done something the other had to follow. And that just meant you were often forced to go with them to make sure neither got hurt because god forbid that happens.

-Teenage!Simon whos only a three years younger than you and yet you still treat him like a little kid each time you see him. Acting as if hes more like your little brother than anything else. And it just made sense that when he got picked on it was you who was getting suspended from school for beating up his bullies.

Teenage!Simon who started coming over less and less after your brother got a girlfriend. Meaning your mam was pestering your brother and you on why her favourite adopted son hadnt been over in a while. To which you cant answer and neither can your brother because hes a little shit.

-cut to your 18th. Finally able to drink and guess who shows up at the door right before midnight completely drenched. Yuppp Simon. No one was home and you couldnt just leave him out in the rain. So you took him in, giving him clothes your brother refused to wear in replace of his wet ones because you also dont want to get killed over wet floors by your mam

-Teenage!Simon who finally realises that you were technically the 'better' brother. In the sense you actually stuck up for him, made sure he was fine and wasnt being bothered. And you even looked after him each time he showed up knocking on your window because he ran away from his house. You done more than your brother ever did.

-Simon who tries confessing to you when hes 16 and your 19. Only to be rejected by you because you didnt want to be accused of anything and because it was wrong from him to even think of you that way (internalized homophobia guys it happens :( to the best of us anyways)

-Simon who has to quite literallu chase you to get you to talk to him during school. You may not talk to him anymore but you still made sure he wasnt being picked on. He was still your brothers bestfriend. And even if he didnt need it, youd given yourself the role of protecting him from bullies in and out of school.

-You who lands yourself in jail after beating a 18 year old for the simple reason on the fact he was trying to get simon jumped. And word got around to you quickly even if you no longer were in school and were a second year in college. But hey it wasnt your fault he didnt think before he spoke.

-you who got out exactly 3 days before simon turned 18, meaning youd be around to celebrate with him (that was if you ever stopped getting phone calls from your mam giving out over you being locked away for 6 months.)

-Simon who makes the joke that he's technically legal and its not wrong for the two of you to date. But even then you fele icky over the fact that he may be wasting time on you when he could find someone way better.

-you who only accepts to go out with him because he seemed so determined. You guys spending the next 2 years together until he tells you he thinks he wants to join the military and see where that goes.

-you who are fully with him and even help him enlist. Not knowing that you'd lose touch only a year after he was gone. And then for it to carry on for the next 18 years. Until you spot him back in town with 3 other men you have no idea who they are but hey he's back and safe.

-Simon who doesnt remember a thing about his home town other than the fact that he still had a home to return to even if it wasnt his. And is all too surprised to see its not your mam or brother living there. Its you. And everything is awkward even when you tell him is find for him to stay. All he needed to do was stay away from your room and the garage during certain hours during the day.

-Price, Gaz and Soap being able to just sense the tension between the two of you. But not being able to pinpoint what it is exactly about you that has simon so on edge. Until it finally clicks when they see the pin board hanging in the hallway with a picture of you simon and another boy that looks like a younger version of yourself all standing at the bank of a river.

-them trying to stick ye in rooms together to get ye to reconnect but the flame that was once there is gone. And not an ember that remains to spark it up again. Even if you try.

I havent writen in so long and i needed to write something to get over my writers block so have this and enjoy. Ima try write a small fic to go along with this.

[the-npd-culture-is]

NPD culture is telling yourself you don't care about how people view you but the moment you noticed someone blocked you, you think about it for the entire day

.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

do you ever just sit there thinking about your favorite ocs while violently shaking. god. clenches fist. They're So.

[fingertipsmp3]

I wonder if Taylor knows she’s releasing Speak Now TV tomorrow

[hes-a-tough-kid]

If you see the final word count for my completed fic gently increasing over months and months no you dont