#WHERE THE FUCK DID RHIS THING COME FROM

[asmodeusamaryllis]

Having a virus scare on my laptop only to do some research n it apparently appears to be a twitch issue OMFG

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ HEARTBEAT

tw. pseudocest, noncon, possessiveness, grooming?, age gap, blood, murder, a lot of trauma bonding

wordcount. 6k

a/n. thank yoUUUU rhi for betaing you are my favorite as alwaysssss I love you soooo much ♡♡

okkotsu yuuta x fem!reader

Blood is splattered on the ground of the dirty alley, and there’s another heavy thump when his kick once again lands on the kid’s skull and he moans in pain. He calls him a kid in his head because he’s got that shit-faced little attitude, and now an ugly gap where his front teeth used to sit, but he should be old enough to know better. As a couple passes by the narrow street, he shields things from view a little, before using the long edge of his sheathed sword to push the dumb, bloody face to the side. Because his eyes are starting to look like two overripe tomatoes from the impact, he couches down before the sandy brunet.

“You know what this is about?” Yuuta’s voice is hoarse. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but it’s been a busy week cleaning up your messes. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t mind. If anything, it makes him feel sort of useful. You’re good and kind and don’t get into trouble on purpose — which is why he’s here late at night making sure things get handled. Niisan’s got it, after all. He doesn’t bother to clear his voice. “Hey.���

“Take my cash,” the young man below him now whistles through the missing teeth, teary eyes darting around as he pats his hand all over himself to look for a wallet.

Yuuta scoffs. “I don’t want your money. If I did, you think I’d waste my time beating your face in like you had it coming?” The anxious, almost nervous lilt to his own voice doesn’t escape him. If you could see him now, you’d probably say that he was enjoying this too much - and while he is, the idea of this getting back to you doesn’t escape his mind. It won’t though, logically speaking. The kid probably wouldn’t be able to see straight for a couple hours, and you will never find out. “I want to know why you’re hanging around Rika’s kid sister.”

“Kid? W- I don’t know any Rika!” He yelps when he tries to lift his head and gets the handle of the weapon hit hard onto the bridge of his nose again, adding more blood to the mess that’s running all over the bottom of his face. Yuuta really can’t see it, lifting his top lip in slight disgust. Handsome, where? Just as much as this boy isn’t really a kid anymore, neither are you. But you’re younger, and deserving of protection — is it really so bad he wants to imagine you as his baby sister for a bit longer before you start trying to escape from under his wings?

Not that you’re going to go anywhere.

“I don’t know a Rika,” the blond whines again now, hiding his face into his hands to drool and hiccup against the cold floor.

“Orimoto Rika, has a kid sister.” Yuuta bites back, patience running really thin.

“O-I- I kn- oh, we’re in the same uni prep class!” He gets up to close his eyes and focus all his attention on not just kicking against his skull until the answers fall out. He knows that, how else would he even know to ask? The head damage takes it a few seconds to make the guy continue, sniffling. “We’re friends- or- my friend knew her. I liked her so we hung out a few times.” Yuuta’s hand is cold around the worn handle.

He takes a slow breath, watches the cloud of air as he lets it out. The promise ring glints in the light of the street, and it’s all familiarity and instinct that makes him brush his thumb over it. “Were you serious with her? Or did you tell her whatever so you could fuck her? Hm? Did you fuck my little sister?” The brunet snivels and whines under him when his foot lands back right before his face, demanding attention.

“I won’t talk to her anymore, I swear! I swear I w-won’t even - it’ll be like I never existed. Please.” The pitiful whining he’s doing, groveling like a dog below him - sort of reminds him of a younger him. Someone who didn’t have a purpose yet, and was scared of everything for it. The heavy weight of the ring clings to his hand when he lifts it to unsheath the katana, seeming to wrap a comforting palm around his own. If he could, he'd tangle fingers with her.

“P-please, let me go home! I didn’t do- I wouldn’t touch your s-sister, I didn’t know.”

“I hate guys who aren’t serious with her.” He clicks his tongue, and has to spit out the nasty taste that this entire situation leaves on his tongue. The weight of the sword is barely an inconvenience when both hands wrap around the handle properly. He’s doing this for Rika and him. Always. “She deserves so much better.” A mean flash of possession crosses his thoughts - how no one except him will ever be good enough. But he pushes it back, because that has nothing to do with why he’s doing this. Nothing.

+

“Yuuta~” Her voice haunts when he closes his eyes.

He’s in the sandpit of the Children’s hospital, rocking back and forth softly on the edge of it as he waits. The sun makes the sand nice and toasty, it warms his feet when he plants them down. “Yuuta!” It’s instinctive, when he looks up at the familiar voice. Rika’s hair travels in a perfect arc behind her when she runs to make it catch the light like a halo. Pretty blue dress making the shine of her hair even brighter, cheeks rosy, and her eyes glittering diamonds when they find his and she crashes down next to him. Her scraped knee is proof that it’s too hard, but he can’t help but smile when her cheek touches his arm on the landing.

Something hits the floor with a loud thump.

Yuuta turns over his shoulder to watch. There’s a smaller child that’s chin down on the earth behind them two, thick crocodile tears threatening to spill when Rika gasps. “Rika neechan~ Wait.” You pout, straightening up quicker than you should to reach your hands out to her. The girl hurries over to dust your cheeks off and drag you along behind her. It’s such a nice day out, Yuuta’s sweater is just thick enough to make his entire body warm. He stares at your face a little too long, before glancing between you two.

You’re still rounder than she is, but it’s undeniably eerie. “Your sister?” He asks softly, and Rika grins wide. She gently maneuvers you by the hand to sit next to her, then pulls you into a hug.

Her lips are pretty pink when she licks them. “This is Yuuta. Say ‘hi Yuuta’.” You parrot your sister obediently, as she waves your hand around at him. “Me and Yuuta are going to get married. So you should be very nice to him, okay?” Her sweet cheeks are the exact same as yours, long lashes and big, knowing eyes that always have him staring. You just look absentmindedly at the grass when Rika holds you into her side, but nod.

He smiles softly when your big eyes find his again. And Rika giggles. “And she’s gonna be your sister one day, so you gotta protect her well. We’re gonna be one happy family, promise?” She extends her arm to hold out a pinky finger at him. “That’s what I want.”

+

His fingers are pressing indents into your arm. It’s unusual. Yuuta’s always gentle, he’s soft and cares, but today his hand is screwed almost protectively tight around your upper arm, and you can’t say that you hate the feeling. Maybe childishly, you want him to squeeze even harder - so you’ll have no reason to get out.

You don’t come here a lot. Not since the accident tore open the painful scarred memory of it, but even before then, it wasn’t exactly your favorite place. It’s at Yuuta’s gentle prompting that you even managed to dress, and now walk however slowly between the low stone walls. The rain taps impatiently on the umbrella above, as the older boy casts you a careful glance. Then slowly bends to sit on his ankles, and grabs your hand ever so softly, meeting your eyes. His hands, though big enough to dwarf yours now, are almost velvety when they clasp around yours. It feels like he’s exponentially grown, while you’ve stayed pretty much the same.

Partly the illness. Mostly the age.

“Think you can go on?” he softly asks, kind eyes sympathetically regarding you. Like he’s making a judgment call about whether to turn back after all - debating the long walk back to the hospital. “I’ll be right here with you.”

“You’ve already gone before, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds a bit accusatory, a bit pouty too. Can’t be helped. Yuuta could be a living saint and you’d still find it hard. He clearly doesn’t take it to heart, because he smiles. His one hand then moves up to ruffle your hair.

“It’s still hard for me too, though,” his lips quirk up in an almost smile, but you can tell he doesn’t mean it. It’s sort of comforting to know that even someone like him feels it. Of course he would. Your neesan was family, but Yuuta probably knew her better than you ever could. He was beside her when she got out the two times, and was waiting when she had to get re-admitted. He was there when she got hit— there’s a comforting brush of your cheek when he stands back up and the umbrella gets so much higher. Yuuta blinks. “Come. I think you can do it.”

Your chubby cheeks flood with warmth, as you take his fingers into your hands with a nod. “Okay.”

It’s like this that you wind up at the headstone, stepping through dredged earth that’s been walked on too much. It seems to cling to the bottoms of your shoes with intent - you squeeze Yuuta nii’s hand tighter at the sight of the family grave. It now holds three of your kin in a warm embrace under the several bouquets of wilting flowers, and however morbidly, you think that maybe you’ll be joining soon. You’re young, but it’s not lost on you when the nurses send each other pitying looks.

“Is this where neesan’s buried?” Your voice sounds pinched and small, and sort of pathetic. You imagine Yuuta nii cried when he came to the funeral, but he wouldn’t have whined. You’re whining. You don’t want Yuuta to get fed up with you. Not when he’s the last semblance of ‘family’ you have left. After a while of staring blankly at the stone, he nods, and turns over his shoulder to smile at you again, pulling you a little closer to him. Your arms loop around his waist, staring down at the pretty whites that shake under the rain. “Is this where I’ll be buried when I die?”

He freezes. You feel bad about the double take he does when his spine goes more straight, rigid limbs dropping by his side as a deep, uncomfortable breath makes its way out. Your hands wring together instead.

However long it takes for him to unlock his limbs is however long you breathe through your tears as they well up stubbornly along your lash line, before your head is pulled to his ribs into an embrace. He swallows back emotion himself. “That’s not- I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise. I promise.”

“I’m sick-”

“No.” His eyes glint with something silvery when he takes your face between both hands and lets your childishness wash over him, clenching his jaw. “What happened to Rika was an accident- I- I couldn’t do anything then. But nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m here. I need- you to believe me.”

You don’t flinch when he uses your cheek to turn your face his way, but the urge still sits. His eyes study your face too intently, like he’s looking for something he can’t quite find. “I promised that I’d be a niichan that protects you.”

Rain splatters into a million glistening flecks as it meets the headstone.

“Okay,” you say.

It isn’t lost on you that his jaw is set too tight as he drags you back by the hand towards his bike, fist clenched around the umbrella. He breathes a tiny, ‘Later, Rika’ before turning on his heel. You don’t manage the same. Your voice gets stuck in your throat, even when he helps you up onto the bike rack in the back, pulling your face into his chest too tight- squeezes you to mold against him. He smells nice for a teen boy. The kiss he leaves on your crown is gentle, and leaves a soft warmth on your skin — You doubt it is really meant for you.

+

The door pushes open as you’re putting clips into your bangs, tongue trapped between your teeth. You cast Yuuta a glance through the mirror when he lingers at the door, and try to smile. “I’m almost ready.” You’re no longer too keen on fighting, the longer the silent treatment drags on. After a while of watching you with his arms crossed over his chest — he walks over to your bed to plop himself down and lets himself fall backward.

“I’m sorry,” the noiret sighs at nothing in particular, as you put on a necklace and after debating for a second, some perfume. The noise makes Yuuta look, studying you when you turn. It’s easy to forget sometimes that Yuuta didn’t have to stay with you, and he sure as hell didn’t have to give up a lot of his youth to take care of you like he does. Like your other family refuses to do when all the cards are on the table. He catches your stare. “You know I love you. I… worry when you’re not right here where I can see you. We stick together.”

“I know.” Your smile only barely makes your lips move, but you do mean it. You just wish realizations like this didn’t always have to come at the cost of fighting. “For what it’s worth, I’ll probably always forgive you.” You try to laugh, and brush your hair out of your eyes a final time before grabbing your bag. “I’m only going to be out for a few hours, max.”

Yuuta frowns when he sits up. His dark hair is brushed out of his face, damp and soft from the shower. “You’re still going?”

You blank. “Yeah, Himari and Shota are waiting for me. We’re going to see a movie.” He only has to let his eyes travel over your body and clothing once, for you to read what he’s thinking. You yank the edge of your skirt a bit lower, and pull your shoulders up. “What, what?! I can’t go out looking like this? It’s basically the same length as my uniform, what’s wrong with that?!”

“I didn’t say anything,” he breathes back, empty eyes regarding you with a static sort of- indifference, you guess.

“You don’t have to, niichan! God!” You turn to walk out the room, but Yuuta grabs your wrist when you pass by the bed. Sat down like he is, eyes tracing you like a lion- Yuuta no longer looks like the boy that used to draw stars on the ceiling of your hospital room for your amusement. Your cheeks heat when he basically glares straight at you for your attitude, and mulls the answer around in his mouth. Your anger subsides as you take a breath. This is the guy who makes you fresh apple juice in the morning, and calls you up between shifts. Because he cares. He just cares.

“Can I please go, Yuuta nii?”

After a few seconds, he clicks his tongue, staring at the edge of your skirt before tugging at it too, barely hiding a frown you can see dig between his brows. “You know I don’t like that Shota kid?”

Your lips jut out. “Yeah…” It’s getting awfully close to time to leave. You take a step back just to get his hands away from you. It’s distracting, and this is your brother you’re dealing with. “But he’s really nice. He started high school already but he used to be in my class the last three years, so… so you don’t have to worry. He knows I can’t do everything because I’m sick and he says—”

“Yeah, I’m sure he says everything you want to hear… You’re smarter than this. You don’t actually believe that.”

“He’s my friend.” A friend that makes your heart beat a bit faster when he smiles at you, but what’s it to him? “He doesn’t lie.”

Yuuta grimaces when you stare him down. “Don’t tell me about teenage boys, I used to be one.” He bristles before sitting up straighter, and though he’s technically below you, you still feel his energy tower as those big, dark eyes stay on your face. “Are you really ‘going to see a movie’? Or are you just going to sit in a boy’s room all night while I’m worried sick-”

You’re about ready to walk out, but his fingers are still looped around your wrist. “We are going to the movies! Himari and I! Just because a boy is there- ugh! Niichan, don’t make it weird!” The heat burns higher on your cheeks when you ball your fists, ignoring the pressure behind your eyes. This is so embarrassing. “I want to go.”

It’s quiet for much too long, making goosebumps appear all over your exposed skin. Then he breathes. “Come here.” His voice has more of an edge than it used to. You used to like the way your name fell from his lips. You’re not so sure you do anymore. Instead of storming out and forgetting all about him, you stare back at the sharpness in his eyes. When he pats his lap with familiarity, you jerk a brow. But you sit. His breath brushes along your neck too softly where he’s seated. It tickles on the way down.

It almost feels like… like he could wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze until you stopped struggling.

Yuuta nii wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

Fingers come to your necklace, undoing it, and it drops into your lap on the pretty, blue skirt. It’s suddenly much too cold in the room, and you resist the urge to wrap your arms around yourself. It’s fine. You’re fine. Yuuta is family.

Still the untouched skin of your neck feels too exposed.

If he notices your rigid posture, he doesn’t bother fixing it. Just reaches, then pushes your head forward. The childishly familiar pink, bedazzled heart he holds up instead glints, swaying from where you left it on your side table for the night. “You get back at 9,” his lower voice sounds, “or else I’m driving out to wherever you are and dragging you back to my car.” When you don’t say anything in response, he brushes away your hair from your shoulders.

“Yuuta nii,” you start, clamming up when he drapes the dainty thing around your throat and does the closure for you. “I wasn’t going to wear that one tonight.” You don’t always want to wear whatever Rika left behind until infinity.

“I think you will,” he breathes back, and kisses your exposed shoulder. It’s less sweet, more something to punctuate his statement. If he wasn’t so familiar and soft, you’d immediately fight against the way his strong arms wind around your waist to anchor you in his lap. “Just wear it.” His hands stay against your skin, long after he’s finished. Too long, and after seconds of sitting in the tense silence, you jerk up off his lap to grab your discarded bag from the floor. The other necklace drops to the carpet somewhere, but you don’t care.

“Fine,” you bring out tightly, before giving him a last look. Your bottom lip trembles a slight bit, so you suck it into your mouth to make it stop. And tears sting at the corners despite yourself. “Later, then.”

“Tell Himari that niichan says hello. It’s been so long since she’s been here.” He gets up from your bed too, and you resist the urge to rush out the room before him when he steps around you. You can’t fight the feeling that somehow… you were just caught in your lie. Your phone beeps in your bag, as Yuuta nii disappears around the corner. Shota, probably.

+

Blood. The door creaks, swings against the wind.

Dead.

You hope he’s dead. Blood pools at the center of the showers, sinks down the drain too slowly. It sticks to the pretty porcelain tiles of the old school locker room before the water gurgles it down.

They’re dead.

You don’t have to question it before it’s confirmed. Before the heavy, silver cleaver is lodged into the side of the already ruined skull. All of them. All of the boys of the soccer team seem to be present, though you don’t want to try and count. Counting makes it real. This shouldn’t be. The heavy thump makes way for a gross squelch when he yanks the metal out, and keeps the body down with his foot.

The spatters on his face are still wet. You can’t help the way your voice comes out when you breathe in deep and try to keep the tears from spilling over. The cleaver’s red and sticky and so is his hand, up to his forearm, his forehead from wiping his hair away. All of it, ruined.

“Y-yuuta nii?”

The metal door of the locker slams closed with the wind and hits you in the back, sending you skittering forward a few steps before you force the air out of your lungs with a stuttered pant.

With a soft smile, he turns over his shoulder. “Shhh.” The blood’s crusted under his nails when he presses a finger to his lips, then waves you closer. “Help niichan out?” His eyes glint over, before his smile goes a little wider, and he whips the blood off the weapon onto the ground. “S’ your fault I had to do this after all. We can clean up together. Hm?”

Your breathing is so shallow that you can feel your heartbeat in between your ears. You aren’t sure why you nod. The guilt tastes bitter on the way down.

+

Rika was dead on impact. She didn’t have a chance, even after she fought so vehemently against what took your mom. You know that. Even if she didn’t get struck by misfortune then, she might’ve not lived past her teens.

Yuuta doesn’t seem to know. He also doesn't seem to consider the same for you either— letting you toy with the edge of his shirt where you’re curled into him in your too-small bed. The hospital wants you back for another check-up.

It’s true that you’ve already outlived your sister, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last forever. Yuuta nii doesn’t want to hear it. As he brushes your hair with his fingers, you scratch the arm where the IV’s always get attached with an absent minded pout. Until Yuuta notices, pouting down at you. “Are you still feeling dizzy? I can make you some green tea if you’ll let go of me for a few minutes. Lots of honey like you like.” You quickly shake your head.

To him this is final, the worst you’ll ever get, and in reality that’s probably not the case. You don’t tell him though. His deep eyes stay on you a little too long. “What’s wrong?”

Sometimes you wake up and can’t open your eyes past a blurry sliver, your head tight enough to make your skull feel like it’s caving in. Times where you have to clasp your stomach painfully tight to hold yourself together — stumbling in tears into Yuuta’s room. Like you’ll disintegrate in his arms unless you lock him around yourself. This isn’t as bad, but you still feel bad.

Feverish and cold all at once, achy where your stomach goes up and down. You can’t mention the possibility of having to go back into urgent care without aniiki spiraling, so you keep your mouth shut. “I don’t like green tea,” you guiltily admit instead, and stare up at him when he holds a few knuckles to your head, studying you.

His expression scrutinizes you a little tighter, before he pets over your crown. He presses a soft kiss onto your lips. It’s Rika that loved it, you want to say, but for some reason you can’t make the words come out. He sighs, slightly put out, but then nods. “If you’re feeling better later, maybe you can help Yuuta nii with the curry. Okay?”

“Mhm,” you smile up at him, and you can see how the muscles in his jaw unclench.

His soft hands cup your face intently, staring down at you too intently. It starts sweet, until the feeling of his breath dust over your face and you watch as he flicks his eyes all over you. “You look so much like her. I can tell now that you’re getting older though,” his thumb smoothes over your soft cheek. “We should see if there’s something in Rika’s stuff you can still wear.”

“Won’t be able to fit it anymore, niichan.” Your voice comes out apologetic, though you don’t know why.

“Hm. You might be right.” His look goes more distant before he pulls you closer. Legs tangled, arms loosely looped around you. “You’re still smaller than me though. Luckily.” He takes a deep breath, before nuzzling his nose into your crown to breathe long and deep. His warm hands trail over yours before squeezing. “I love you, you know that? Always will.”

You stare at the wall of mementos past Yuuta’s shoulder. Suffocatingly cram packed. Her pictures. Her music poster. Her pre-teen bottle of perfume you wear only on special occasions. Your hands stop toying with the edge of his shirt to brush instead along his forearm until you meet something that isn’t skin. Yuuta’s quiet, but his breathing is slightly pinched— you don’t mean to.

You glance between you two to the plastic your finger hooks onto. The bracelet she made in the hospital care ward for Yuuta that he still wears despite the fact that the color has long peeled off of the cheap beads. “You loved neesan, right?” Your lashes almost brush when you look back at him, watch him trap his tongue between his teeth for a moment as pink sits on his cheeks. His hand wraps around yours to tangle fingers.

“I… did.”

He swallows. “She made the hospital seem a little less lonely.” The mementos seem to stare at you from across the room as he speaks, and the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach refuses to fade. If anything, it gets more painful. Tighter. “We’re going to be together forever though. And I,” he squeezes your hand, voice fading to barely a whisper, “I love you. Love you so much.”

There's a cold slid over your fingers when he moves. You allow him to slip off the band, gently, and almost as if he wants to give it to you without you noticing, his fingers slide the cursed thing onto your hand instead. His smile is gentle, makes those dark eyes look a little less pressing. “When you’re cleared from going back to the hospital, we can find me a matching one. We still have to get married, right?”

The room feels cold.

“... Okay.”

+

“Let’s kiss?”

It’s too late to be early when the shared bed gets crowded over on your side. “St- I’m going to sleep, Yuuta nii. Stop.” You don’t open your eyes to the touch, definitely not to the gentle brush of his fingers over your lips when he gets too close. Always too close- it’s suffocating. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“Don’t be like that.” He sounds happy. He always sounds like that when it has to do with you, and it doesn’t take long for your eyes to flutter open when the thumb instead pushes into your mouth. “If we get married, this will be normal. Don’t pull back.” He pushes onto your tongue to make you hold it in your mouth all heavy and tasting of him, then leans in to push his forehead to yours. Deep, possessive eyes pinning you in place.

“You don’t want to?” It almost sounds mocking. You know you brought this on yourself. You asked to go home early, you asked to invite friends. Maybe this is payback the way big brothers give it. There’s tears that spring up anyway when his other hand slips under your shirt and he squeezes your soft belly. As the spit he wipes on your lips gets kissed away by an impatient sigh. “I’ve wanted to for such a long time. You wouldn’t ask me to wait more.”

“Yuuta nii. We’re siblings, aren’t we?” The ring glitters. Your hand is clenched into the front of his shirt as warm hands grab down your body— hands you love. Hands you trusted.

“Of course we are. That’s why I’m doing this, silly girl.” Hands that push your underwear down your round hips despite you fighting to keep them up. He giggles when you burn with embarrassment, before pressing kisses to your temple. “I love you. I love you, I love you. Who better to kiss you than big brother?” You shake your head, try to push- he doesn’t budge. Just keeps your body in place under his with his weight.

“G-get off of me, Yuuta! Stop being so weird!” You cry, pushing until he grabs your wrist and forces it down beside your head. He’s still smiling though, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like you’re still a child acting out. It’s that which makes you squirm more, and the glare digs into your forehead when he gets on top of you. “Stop~ I don’t want to kiss.”

Instead he laces his fingers with your ring hand, as the other patiently flutters down to rub over your pussy. You don’t want to. You don’t. Yuuta just smiles when he tilts his head to regard you, and squeezes your fingers a little tighter. “Rika-chan asked me to take care of you. Don’t get so mad.”

+

It’s getting cooler and cooler and cooler the longer he stands. Pressed in the corner of the sterile, greenish blue atmosphere with white sheets draped over your body. He takes a long, deep breath until the nurse finishes up with the checks, taking freshly drawn blood away in a vial. “You’re the guardian?”

The red stands out against your complexion as your restless sleep drifts deeper— he shifts in his seat to lace his hands together. “Her big brother, yes.”

She doesn’t bother to pretend to care when tapping her clipboard, gives a distracted smile. “The doctor will be here within the next hour, okay? Please wait here until then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Yuuta’s quick not to let the smile quirk up onto his mouth when she’s already walking out before he finishes. As soon as the door falls into lock he gets up from the uncomfortable chair to kneel by your bedside and grasp your hand.

Soft. Small.

He hates to admit that he could spend hours here by your side; but the truth is the truth. He could, and he has. And he will, until it is no longer necessary.

Yuuta kisses your hand with a gentle smile, feeling your heartbeat thump under his lips. You mumble, he swears he can hear his name. “I’m here. Niichan’s here.” He smiles a little more when the soft fingers wrap back around his hand and he watches your expression relax even in your sleep. He can’t help it, the soft thumping against his cheek makes his entire body warm.

You’re so alive, and so close- every cell in his body yearns to be beside you. He kisses the area between your thumb and pointer in an attempt to soothe the feeling of biting down entirely. Instead he clasps your hand with two of his before standing up. “You would have loved Rika.” His mouth tingles. “She would’ve hated you- but you would have loved her. I think she would have been a bit jealous though.”

He dips to press a soft kiss onto your lips, humming softly when your warm breath dusts over his cheeks. “You’re so cute.” A few years ago, you would’ve had visitors waiting for you. “I know you were looking forward to graduation, but I’m still here for you.” He places his hands on both sides of your face to hover over you instead of pulling back, can’t keep himself from it.

“You don’t want to leave your niichan, right?” It’s not your fault that everyone else wants you to move on. He’ll take you just as you are. He has to force himself to pull back before he kisses you again, so you don’t wake just yet. You will. And you’ll cry into his chest about missing your precious graduation, and about being stuck here again, just when you were getting better. He never much wanted you in uni anyway.

From his space sat on the edge of your bed, he can easily see how the blanket squirms. How the motion curls and wiggles until he easily pulls the sheet down your chest, then your stomach.

Two beady eyes stare up at him as he brings his face a little closer. The fly head is still clinging to your stomach, hasn’t moved from where he left it. By now it’s become an accessory every few months. It’s not strong enough to kill you— just barely enough to keep you believing you’re still sick, and that’s all he really needs. You need his care, need him. He resists the urge to pick the thing up at least until he can take you back home.

Instead he nudges it up a little higher, so he can place his palm onto your belly to stroke gentle circles in its place, feeling the heat through the gown. He can feel your heart bounce all the way down your body, it’s so cute. When the little fodder curse crawls onto your chest, lids shooting open as you gasp. “Yuuta nii-” Your eyes are lined red, and as soon as they find him you start bawling.

More than happy to let him hike you up from the bed and into his arms, where you bury your face into his neck. Your hiccups are so cute. It’s easy to kiss them quiet when you don’t have enough breath to ask him to stop. He’s sure this time he could slip his tongue into your mouth and you wouldn’t say a thing.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[danikamariewrites]

Hi!! I absolutely love your fics!! I loved Good Morning with Xaden. Could you do a part 2 of good morning so Xaden can finally have a good, refreshing 😏 morning with reader after he “drags” them back from flight training lol

Drag You Back (SMUT)

Xaden x reader

A/n: YYESSS!! I was looking forward to writing Xaden putting Dain in his place lmao. And yes Cadmus is back LOL

Warnings: smut

Judging by the position of the sun it was way past the hour you told Xaden you’d be back by. You were hoping that Xaden would get impatient now and fly out here. Dain was getting far too aggressive about offensive maneuvers and you wanted a break.

Landing on the field you knew this was just for a break and he’d have the squad back in the air. You jump down from Cadmus, returning his annoyed look. He huffed as you took a sip of water. “I know big guy. I want a break too.” Cadmus huffed louder, “What crawled up his ass?”

You chuckle into your water bottle. “I’m not sure but I’m hoping Xaden does come drag me out of here for once.” Cadmus seemed to hum and look off toward where the rest of the dragons rest. You know exactly what he’s doing, little bastard. “Stop that.” “Stop what?” He responds with an innocent tone. “You know what.”

Cadmus laid his head down with a slight smirk playing at his mouth. Liam and Rhi came to chat during your break and you all agreed that Dain is in a shit mood, clearly punishing everyone for nothing.

Before Dain could call you all back to mount your dragons Xaden cut him off. You turned, trying to keep the giant grin from your face. “Wing Leader, how can I help you?” Dain grits out. Xaden gives him a shit eating grin. He’d never get tired of having power over Dain.

“Yes actually. Professor Carr needs to see her,” Xaden points at you. Dain let’s out an annoyed sight, rolling out his neck. “Fine.” “Problem Aetos?” Dain glares at him and swallows his insult. “Nope. No problem.”

“Good,” Xaden pushes past him motioning for you to come with him, “let’s go sweetheart.” Rhi and Liam snicker behind their hands. Xaden is shameless when it comes to your nicknames in public. When you first got together he cared about keeping things secret. But as people started to realize you were his Xaden became proud to show you off on his arm.

You trailed behind Xaden while walking back to the college. Once the door slammed shut behind you he turned, a wicked grin on his face telling you he didn’t forget his promise. You jumped into his arms wrapping your legs around his waist. Xaden’s hands find home in your hair, pulling you into a heated kiss.

“Take me back to bed Riorson.” You say against his lips. “As you wish, sweetheart.” As you left kisses all over Xaden’s exposed neck he races back to your room.

Back in your small cadet quarters Xaden unceremoniously tosses you on the bed and starts hastily ripping his uniform off. You do the same, desperate to feel him. You did feel bad leaving him this morning. Especially since you had been craving him since you woke up. Xaden was all you could think about during flight training.

How he’d hold your waist while flying on Sgaeyl, fixing your stance during training, and your favorite, when he runs his large fingers through your hair rubbing your scalp. Gods you were soaked just thinking about his hands on you.

Once you were both bare Xaden caged you in with his body. He nips and sucks at the skin on your jaw down your neck and chest, stopping at your breast taking your nipple in his mouth. Sighs leave your lips and you hold him to your chest threading your fingers through his dark hair.

You grind your hips into his feeling his hardened length press against your thigh. Another sigh falls from your lips at the feeling. “Fuck Xaden, need you. Please.” He lets your breast fall from his mouth smirking at you. “Oh so now you need me, huh.” His deep teasing voice sending another wave of wetness to your core.

You shoot him a look that says tease me later. He happily obliges your silent request and starts teasing you with his fingers. Xaden spreads your slick through your folds and then coats his cock with it.

Xaden presses the tip to your entrance looking to you for permission. You nod and he slides in. A mewl sounds from you as you instinctively wrap yourself around Xaden. You claw at his shoulder blades and bury your face in his neck.

He slowly pushed deeper and deeper inside you. Xaden pulls out, swearing at how tight you feel around him. “Fuck sweetheart. You take me so well. Your sweet little pussy was just meant for me.”

The moan you let out spurs Xaden on. His pace getting faster and needier. Gods he knows your body so well. No one else could find all these parts of you like he can. Xaden knows just how to position himself to hit that sweet spot over and over.

Your eyes flutter shut and you bite lip as one of his shadows slithers over your hip to toy with your clit. The coolness of the black tendril a stark contrast to Xaden’s warm body above you.

You feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. You rake your nails up his back and he hisses at the pleasurable pain. “Xaden,” you squeak out as his hips slam into you. Your moans becoming more persistent.

“Xaden I’m gunna - fuck - I’m gunna come.” His shadow starts moving faster on your clit. You arch into his chest and feel his cock twitch against your walls.

Your orgasm courses through you like lightning, “That’s it baby, show me how much you love my cock. So fuckin good f’me.” As Xaden keeps fucking you through your high your thighs shake around him.

Two more thrusts of his hips and Xaden was spilling into you. His thick cum coating your walls in spurts as he presses into you. Xaden drops his head into you neck nipping at you a few more times.

Your body relaxes under him as Xaden lazily brings one of his hands to hold the back of your head, the other on the small of your back. He flips so you’re laying on top of him and he moves his hips, sliding his softening cock out of you.

“Thank you for coming to get me. Totally worth it.” His chest shakes as he laughs. He gently strokes your hair, “I think today is a do nothing day.” He says letting out a tired sigh.

“I think so too.” You move up Xaden’s body and peck his lips. Then rest your forehead against his, brushing your nose against his crooked one.

[readychilledwine]

Requiem for a Dream

Part two: Oxytocin

(One month later)

Rhiannon and Rhysand have fallen into a routine. Rhys life consists of therapy with Madja, training with Cassian, and returning to his work as High Lord. The only thing missing now is the pretty female he calls his wife.

Warnings - NSFW, sexual tension, mutual masterbation, voyeurism/exhibitionism, and as always unedited. Minors - shooo DNI

A/N - our first slightly spicy scene between two lovers who just can't communicate. This part was written with "Oxytocin" by Billie Eilish in mind.

Part One Part Three Part Four

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Rhiannon smiled as she walked out into the training room where a constant tug was coming from the bond.

She could hear Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand laughing. She could feel joy in her bones, lighting her spirit like a flame.

She rested her forearms on the ledge, leaning forward to watch her shirtless husband getting his ass handed to him by her brother. Mor appeared next to her, taking her left hand in her own and squeezing. "He's doing better today. Still a little slower than he used to be." Her bell-like laughter came. "His knees popped, Rhi."

Rhiannon covered her mouth, snorting before she began to laugh. Cassian had noticed her, sending her a wink before beginning to ref the sparing taking place again.

It took Azriel no time to throw Rhysand on the ground. "Gods you are so out of shape," Azriel helped him up. "Maybe you should be sparing your wife instead."

Rhiannon's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?! What the fuck does that mean?"

Cassian smirked. "It means the second your mate is around you stop training. Lazy brat. Relying on her oh so powerful husband for protection."

"I've been busy dealing with my duties, general." Rhiannon blinked at the three laughing males before giving Rhysand a look. Her eyes went from his head to his feet and back up before she smirked. "Besides, I could take him."

Silence fell over the training area.

Rhysand was nodding before he clicked his tongue. "Then come try, Rhiannon Darling." He snapped her illyrian training leathers onto her body, motioning for her to join them in the ring. "Come on, mate."

Rhiannon glared at him, walking to the ring as Azriel shook his head. "If you two do what you did last time you trained together, I'm going to take my own eyes out with a spoon."

Rhiannon smiled at her big brother, who glared at her in return. "That'd only stop you from seeing it, Azzie. You still have to smell and hear it." Azriel gagged loudly, shooting a look to a laughing Cassian before flipping all three of them off.

Rhys stood face to face with his wife, an ever growing smirk on his face. "You look lovely today, my dear. How was my uncle?"

Rhiannon rolled her eyes, taking the hair tie Cassian was offering her. "Oh. Charming as always. I had planned on going into town and spending your gold to make up for being forced to see him, but evidently, I will be nursing your wounds and looking lovely for that instead."

Cassian chuckled backing away. "Oh Rhys," the general spoke, "Rhi-rhi spent the last 50 years training with me daily to work out her anger. Have fun with that." The smirk her mate wore fell as she smiled sweetly at him. "Begin."

Rhys made the first move, wanting to get Rhiannon on the ground as fast as possible to prevent her from getting hurt. His arms went around her waist, locking tightly. Rhiannon recovered quickly, going on the defensive and slamming her foot into his and then her elbow into his lower stomach.

His grip on her loosened, allowing her to grab and twist one of his arms behind his back. He moved quickly, freeing himself from her grasp before tutting her from across the ring.

He struck first again, catching her into a forward bear hug and lifting her off the ground. Rhiannon looked to Cassian, slightly panicked, and he nodded at her. "You know how to get out of this, sis."

Rhiannon locked her feet behind Rhysand's knee pits and began digging her heels in. She heard her mate yelp and his knees slightly bent. She took advantage, throwing her body weight forward and knocking him onto his back on the ground.

She had pulled Rhysand's head into her shoulder and neck to protect him in the fall and unlocked her legs as quickly as she could. She moved to look down at him with a smile before realizing the position they were in.

Rhysand and Rhiannon were silent as she sat on top of him, hands having fallen to his chest. His hands were tightly locked on her hips. Their lips were inches apart. The tension between them could have been cut with the dullest of knives. Unknowingly to each of them, they were both craving each other. Desperate to touch each other. Rhiannon knew she needed to wait, though, despite the growing heat in her body. She was off of him instantly and moving quickly to the door.

She heard him calling her name, following after her, asking what was wrong, but she didn't stop. She knew if she did, her own selfish needs would get in the way of his healing. Opening a door and shutting herself into the spare bedroom she had moved into since his return, Rhiannon warded it from him before ripping her leathers off on the way to the bathroom.

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Rhys slammed the nearest object onto the ground before sitting on his bed. He was this close to her. This close to taking advantage of the opening the four of them had set up to get Rhiannon to kiss him and possibly touch him.

He felt like an addict without a fix the past week. He was ready to start trying physical intimacy with his wife, his beautiful selfless wife. He sighed and leaned back on the bed, tugging that bond between them gently and knocking on her mental shields.

"What are you doing, little nightingale?" Rhys felt his brows growing up as her emotions hit him tenfold. Arousal and need smacked him in the face as he found that one small gap she always left in her mind for him.

He wasn't prepared for the image that greeted him. His wife had her pretty little fingers buried in her cunt, her head tossed back in pleasure before she returned watching herself in the mirror imagining it was him fingering her instead of herself.

Rhysand moved his hands to his leathers untying them and freeing his aching cock from his pants before running his hand over the already leaking tip. He began to stroke himself in time with her movements as she rode her hand. He could feel how turned on she was, how needy she was, he could hear her moans. He could practically taste her on his tongue as his eyes shut, and he moaned her name softly.

He began speeding up his movements as he saw one of her hands squeeze her perfect tits and her fingers come out to play with that bundle of nerves he could use to make her cum within seconds. She was close, panting his name like a prayer over and over as if he was there. She was tugging the bond, accidentally allowing the overly active string of fate to send her pleasure straight to her mate.

He desperately wanted to be behind her with his hand in place of her own, her body pressed tightly against his larger frame as his long fingers pulled her apart and he whispered every single thing he'd be doing to her, but only if she was a good girl and came for him.

One more circle around her swollen clit was all it took for his wife to come undone on her own hands and fingers. He followed her over that edge, both of them moaning out each other's names. He relaxed back, breathing heavily and watching as his mate sat in the guest bathroom, shivering and coming down from her orgasm. He set the goal then and there as he saw her slick dripping down her thighs.

Within the next month, he'd kiss her, bring her back to their bed, and he'd at least taste her.

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Tag List:

@horneybeach1

@we-were-beautiful

@cat-or-kitten

@twsssmlmaa

@dream-alittlebiggerdarling

@tothestarsandwhateverend

[lskisms]

YOU, AT LEAST, WERE BUILT TO GO, J. MILLER

. . . which is why you are able to be loved

synopsis — joel is getting older, he is getting frail, and you, still in your youth, have to come to terms with it. you just have to do so much sooner than you thought when he’s hurt during your attempt to escape the university of eastern colorado.

genres &&. warnings — angst, hurt/comfort, (post) apocalypse &&. canon compliant, spoilers for ep. 6 “kin” and ep. 7 “left behind,” contemplation of death, canon-typical violence (wound, gore, blood, wound care), age-gap (reader is in their mid-late 20s).

word count — 3.2k

note from r — title comes from the poem “elegy for my innocence” by steven dunn. i suppose i need to introduce myself a little: i’m rhi, i’m 22, and i’m in my second to last semester of college where i’m majoring in english. obvi, a big fan of the last of us, but also resident evil (which is what i’ve based my account aesthetic on, courtesy of my beloved leon s. kennedy). my ask box is open for people who want to send in asks and things. i’m really looking forward to writing for my fellow joel miller lovers.

if your parents were still alive, if they were around to see the life you’ve carved for yourself over the last few months, you’re certain your dad would want to smack the shit out of you and your mother would disown you from the family faster than you could blink.

you can hear the chastising now: a man old enough to be your father? are you joking? what the fuck is wrong with you? this is not what we meant when we told you we wanted you to start a family. 

and you can’t fault them really. you are almost twenty years his senior, having been just a young child when the cordyceps outbreak decimated the world. if the world had stayed normal, if none of this had ever happened, you’d probably have a dead end corporate job that has you wanting to drop off the face of the earth at the end of every grueling day, married and going home to a man complacent and yielding in every aspect, never too sure of himself to assert any kind of dominance, stuck in his own dead end job that keeps you comfortable just enough.

but the world isn’t normal and it hasn’t been since 2003. and there’s nothing you can do about it. you feel like a child again, wholly the depiction of the angsty teen in dramas and romcoms, as you tell the ghosts of your parents that the heart wants what it wants and i can’t help that i fell in love with a man going starlight gray at his temples. it is wholly melodramatic, something that you would have seen in any number of teen dramas written by out-of-touch, old white men.

joel miller came into your life like a lone crimson leaf during the fall, sometime during your first few months at the boston quarantine zone. it wasn’t like he’d meant to because everything that man did and does is deliberate; he’d simply waltzed across your line of vision as you’d walked back to your apartment after a long day of doing menial chores, the new world equivalent of that mental-health-issue inducing corporate job that the older people of the zone talked about.

you’d heard of him, of course: joel miller, flown in from somewhere down south, a menace to anyone who crossed his path prior to his arrival in boston, a brother somewhere out in the midwest who had taken off and joined the fireflies. he was decidedly unapproachable, gruff and mean and stubborn. most people were more scared of him than they were of fedra for the simple fact that he was more deadly with his two bare hands than any fedra idiot (sorry, “soldier”) with a gun.

he wasn’t a person who you intended to mess around with, no matter how handsome you’d thought he was when you saw him that first time. but then you’d started hanging around with tess, one of very few people who had any kind of stable-enough connection with him and that had led to you meeting and hanging around with him too. tess invited you to go on runs with them, sneaking out of the zone at night to stretch your legs and look for supplies that fedra definitely had and refused to give up. she’d preached your capabilities to joel and, stubborn as he was, he’d allowed you to keep coming with them after the first time because you proved to be spry enough for things that he and tess had grown a little too old for: you were useful to him and that filled you with a kind of thrilling gratification.

by the time marlene had tasked your little trio with getting ellie out of the city, you were a year deep into your entanglement with joel where you did all the recreational talking and he was the one who made the deals with the fireflies, the fedra goons he had in his pocket, the people who had things to trade. it was a balance that worked well for you: joel was well-versed in persuasion when he wanted to be and you were seemingly the only person who could draw out the rare ghost of a smile or a laugh from him.

it was supposed to be a quick job, one that joel had insisted you sit out but you’d refused. just a quick round trip tpe thing, that’s what you’d said to him. we’ll be out and back before anybody even realizes we’re gone. 

that had gone belly-up, of course, because anything that involved the fireflies had at least a 99% chance of not turning out the way anyone planned. and when you’d left the museum, you were down a friend and up a whole ton of miles. joel had tried to convince you again to leave, but once more you’d refused. tess died for us, joel. i’m in this until the end because i’m making sure her sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.

and he’d let you stay. even months after that discussion, you think that he must feel at least a tiny bit grateful that you’d argued with him over it, that you’d fought to tag along. you’re an extra set of eyes, of hands, someone capable of taking over when he needs a break, which is hardly ever because he’s still as ornery as always, but knowing that there’s someone there who can must be nice enough.

and you’re glad he’d given in for once in his life because he’s dying beneath your hands and you’re not sure what to do. he’s going sallow and gray on the concrete floor of this ransacked house, breathing raspy and eyes slipping between you and some far-off point above him. joel is dying and for the first time ever since entering his life, you’re useless.

“joel, stay awake, please,” you beg, clutching at his hand as you kneel beside him. “ellie, you have to stop the bleeding.”

“i’m trying,” the young girl snaps. when she looks up, all you see is a girl who is reliving a loss, a deer caught in headlights, frenzied and terrified. her hands press the cloth harder over joel’s stomach in an attempt to staunch the blood flow and the man groans.

“leave,” he mumbles and your head snaps to look at him. he cannot possibly be saying this right now, not after everything you’ve been through. “leave. head north, go back to jackson. find tommy.”

“like hell we will,” you reply, trying to channel as much of his stubbornness as you can. you’d rather give up and drop dead right now than leave him to die alone in some fucking house in colorado. “we’re gonna fix this, joel. we’re not leaving, i’m not leaving.”

he’s slipping again, eyes glazing over. you can tell he wants to fight with you, but he’s losing the energy for it. for any of it. ellie stills and then tosses his jacket over him in a bid to keep him warm. she fixes you with a look, his look that says stay with him, so you nod solemnly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. you hear her footsteps on the stairs and only when the door shuts behind her do you finally let yourself break, weeping openly over joel’s chest, rising and falling so, so shallowly.

falling in love with this man has been something beautiful, some kind of phoenix rising from the ashes of a long-dead world. over the last few months, you have come to learn the feel of his knuckles brushing against yours, the warmth of his chest against your back when you share a sleeping bag, the sound of his soft breaths as you’ve trekked through miles upon miles of woods and abandoned highways. you have come to appreciate those things, facets of him that only you are privy to, the only person to know the weight of his arm over your waist and feel of his breath against your shoulder.

but in doing so, in reveling in the knowledge that you are the sole person to experience these hidden away pieces of joel miller, you’ve forgotten just how much older he is than you are. that misty gray at his temples and in his beard have been so permanent, you’ve started to believe that he’s always looked like this, that it’s not a marker of his age. you’ve forgotten that he is older and growing frailer by the day, conveniently forgotten how his heart stutters and how his knees act up after hours and miles of walking.

you had always known, of course, that joel would eventually leave you, but not this soon. and not like this.

maybe it’s your fault for putting him on a pedestal: the great, unstoppable joel miller. in your mind, he’s untouchable, some formidable opponent who people fear because he’s strong and knows his way around a fight. it shouldn’t be a chunk of a broken baseball bat that ends his life because it’s not fair, none of this is fair. you’ve been a fool for thinking that the three of you, your unlikely little family, would make it out of this unscathed, for believing that you could live a life like bill and frank’s after this all was over: fulfilling, safe, and the closest resemblance of before.

“god,” you whimper out, still brushing your fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “how could you even consider telling us to leave you here, joel?”

he gazes up at you, blinks slowly, the smallest signs of life that tell you he’s listening and wanting to fight you back about it.

“y’can’t leave me alone here, old man.” a short, wet laugh. “we’ve got so much left to do. i can’t get ellie back to jackson without you. i can’t do anything without you.”

he shakes his head in response and narrows those dark eyes of his just a bit. you read it for what it is: don’t you start talkin’ about yourself like that. he’s always been hard on you for not believing in yourself and your abilities, and it makes you laugh again.

“i mean really, joel. first man i’ve ever loved and you’re telling me to leave you here to die alone in fucking colorado.” you shake your head, looking away to try to blink back tears. “i can’t- i can’t just go. i need you alive.”

you can’t even stop yourself from babbling through the tears, brushing his hair back and wiping away his own tears. even though you should be desensitized to death and loss, you’ve always been particularly sensitive. but you’re young and this is your first love, your only shot at it, and he’s bleeding out on a cold floor because you were too focused on everything else that you hadn’t been able to stop him from getting hurt.

“ain’t your fault,” joel rasps out, eyes shining in the dull winter light. you realize you voiced that, a placing of responsibility that you’d meant for yourself and yourself only. “don’t do that.”

you stare at him and you know what’s going through that head of his. all kinds of thoughts that he wants to voice out loud: it’s not your fault and you were doing the best you could in the situation and this was going to happen sooner or later. damn pessimistic realist, always focusing on the worst possible outcomes than entertaining any kind of optimism.

and in a twisted turn of events, you start to think of your parents, long gone and relegated solely to memory, buried somewhere between atlanta and boston: an optimistic dad and an overwhelmingly realistic mother, so far on opposite ends of a spectrum that they complemented each other perfectly. your dad, ever the poet, had stolen poetry collections from every bookstore he’d came across during your treks from settlement to settlement. his favorite poem, by far, was about the death of a person’s innocence, something always meant to die eventually, perpetually blushing and always coming back a little less pristine each time.

you remember it now as you’re holding joel’s hand with your own, pressing his knuckles against the soft plush of your cheek. you, at least, were built to go, you hear your father’s voice say in your head, which is why you are able to be loved. you haven’t thought about this poem in years, not since you lost him to a runner somewhere in south carolina, but it feels sickening that you’re recalling it now as you’re watching your first and only love die under your hands.

and yet, somehow, it feels comforting, the idea that to be human is to know that one day, a loved one will die, but to know that is to cherish them better, to love them harder. you’re not at all okay with joel dying because you’ve had so little time to love him, but it helps you to cherish those few late nights more, to revel in the memory of his warmth enveloping you on particularly cold nights.

you can let me go. joel’s dark eyes are going glossy again and you smile knowingly at him, still crying. he’s not dead yet and there’s a possibility that he’ll make it out of this alive, the outcome that you’re praying to every god that has ever existed for. you can let me go; it won’t be easy, but you can do it.

ellie’s feet as loud on the old wood stairs as she comes barreling through the door and down the stairwell. she looks rabid as she all but throws herself onto the floor beside joel, ripping the tan coat back and pulling the soaked cloth away. joel’s wound is still gushing blood, a sure sign that he’s well on his way to death, but when ellie makes eye contact with you, you know for sure she’s found something to help. she holds up a needle and spool of thread; she must have torn the entire house apart looking for her hail mary and she found it, she fucking found it. she stares at you, eyes wide and face red, breathing hard, waiting for your go ahead.

when you finally nod at her, fresh tears in your eyes, you look down at joel. his fingers curl around your palm tighter and he’s staring back, his eyes wide. you laugh tearfully, totally and entirely stunned that ellie had actually found a way to help.

“you’re gonna be okay,” you weep, pressing his hand to your forehead, letting your tears drip into your lap. “you’re gonna be okay, joel. just hang on.”

the next few minutes crawl by cruelly, joel surely leaving bruises on your hand from gripping yours too hard, too tight, but you can’t even care because when his hand finally goes slack, ellie is done. her handiwork isn’t so bad and the bleeding has stopped for the most part. when you sigh, it feels like the weight of the world leaves your shoulders, a degree of relief you’ve never felt in your life.

joel, stubborn as always, is fighting unconsciousness as you turn to look back at him and you know it’s because he knows he’s not entirely out of the woods yet. there’s still bleeding to stop, a potential infection to fight, medicine you need to find to keep him safe and healthy, but this has to be good enough for now. it has to be because he’s joel miller and he’s mucked it through gunshot wounds and temporary deafness and all kinds of other shit the world has thrown at him. 

ellie, clearly emotionally gone, stands, her dark eyes empty and her face void of everything save for exhaustion. without even looking at you, she turns towards the stairs and says to nobody, “going for a walk. i need a break.”

her footsteps echo in the stairwell and then creak overhead before she disappears out the front door, leaving you in an empty house with joel and the horse in the garage. you look back to joel, still holding his hand. his face, always so devoid of anything minus annoyance and anger, looks so relieved right now and it makes you want to cry again, but you’re shit out of saline. you lay his hand down beside him before you tuck his winter coat back over him, up to the chin.

there’s not much that you can say, no thoughts come to mind. nothing more than i love you, but you want to save those for when he’s safely out of the thick of this. as true as they are, it’s not the right time, but you’re sure he knows. he must when he scoots his hand out from under the coat and nudges it against your thigh, some gesture that you can’t decode, but that you understand as i’m still here, like he’s able to read your mind. you smile at him softly.

i’ll tell him when this is all over, you reason with yourself as you move to lay beside him, exhaustion finally overtaking you. wherever we end up after ellie is safe with the fireflies, i’ll tell him and he’ll say it back and we’ll be okay.

he can’t turn onto his side, but he turns his head to face you, looking every bit the age of fifty. his eyes are tired and the crinkles of his skin run deep, his cheeks and chin dusted gray. this close, you can see every pock mark, the dip of skin at his temple from some long-forgotten cut, the deep scar that mars the space between his eyebrows. his defenses are down and he looks his age, for the first time in a long time because it’s so easy to forget how old he is when he’s doing the things he does to protect you and ellie.

you scoot in as far as you’ll allow yourself, knees knocking against his legs and your head pillowed on the arm underneath you. you raise a hand and rest it on his cheek, a touch he immediately leans into, like your palm was made to caress his skin. as far as you care, it was. he tilts his head towards you and you find yourself doing the same, foreheads touching. this is one of the small gestures joel allows you on most days, but right now, it feels more monumental than that. like always, it’s a moment shared singularly between the two of you, but it carries so much more weight because he gazes at you with so much more softness and love than he’s ever let himself show before and it reminds you that underneath all that rough exterior, he is a man capable of gentle touches and adoration, no matter how many times the world and himself have tried to beat it out of him.

as his breathing slows, but deepens (a sure sign that ellie has mended the problem for now), you move your arm to rest on his torso, hand pressed into the sturdy spot just above his heart. the beat is steady, solid, a reminder that he’s okay. he was built to go, but now more than ever, you feel he was also built to be yours, to be loved by you. and you’ll make sure he makes it through this, no matter the cost.

(c) lskisms, 2023. do not repost, translate, or otherwise plagiarize my work. the only official versions of my work are available on tumblr and ao3 under the name lskisms.

[seijorhi]

hey rhi 👋

I’ve been watching a lot of zombie shows lately (ex: the walking dead, last of us, all of us are dead, world war z, zombieland etc. etc)

And while watching all those shows, they always managed to remind me about your zombie fic ‘finders keepers’ which would then lead me to wonder and boil with questions. So if you don’t mind and if it doesn’t trouble you too much, I would like to ask a couple of things ….

1. How did the apocalypse start?

2. When it did start, were they at school and just so happen to group up? Or did they join forces in a different manner?

3. While oikawa and the reader were taking shelter, where were the others?

4. When the reader went out to search for supplies for oikawa, we know the twins were following her, but what were they doing out in the first place?

5. (I might be a lil slow for this, but) Which of the twins killed the zombie, Atsumu or Osamu?

6. Why does inarizaki take in ‘strays’ and what do they do to them? And what do they do once the strays in question want to leave their group?

7. For how long did the twins have eyes for the reader?

8. How far along are they into the apocalypse?

9. How come no one seems concerned with reuniting with family or loved ones?

10. What’s the initial reaction from the inarizaki group when they see that the twins brought the reader to their base?

Well I think that’s all my questions… hopefully. But I know for damn sure that if an apocalypse were to actually happen that I’d be like the reader utterly useless and helpless (but unlike her I won’t have any strong and beautiful men to help or protect me 😔)

I would also probably opt out 😭 (people in zombie shows always have so much will to live and for what?!?!?).

Anyways, I always enjoy seeing your blog and reading yours answers to questions asked by us. I love how I’ll be doing anything in my day, and something (no matter how small it is) will remind me of one of your many glorious fics.

I hope you have a wonderful week and thank you for reading. (Stay hydrated and blessed babe 😏.)

(((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

- 🌬️🌫️

okay bear with me

i like to go with pharmaceutical fuck up/virus/pandemic thing à la 28 days later or the walking dead

nah, they were friends before it hit, but even pre-apocalypse it wasn't intended to be a volleyball specific thing

well technically it depends. prior to oikawa being bitten they were on a supply run. in the aftermath, they would've gone back to the school, found it overrun and depending on your own personal choice, either found themselves at the wrong end of a zombie's teeth, or they're trying to track oikawa and the reader down after escaping themselves

following :))

whichever one you think. truly i wrote it and left it ambiguous because 1) the reader couldn't see shit and couldn't determine it herself and 2) it could honestly have been either of them and i found it funnier that way. go with whatever your heart tells you

i like to think that inarizaki actually have more of a 'community'. small, but not just a bunch of guys. considering that there's food, medicine, a fuck-ton of guns and men willing to use them, they're usually pretty happy to stay. loyal enough to look the other way when it becomes clear the reader isn't going to be able to just waltz out the front gate like she thinks

inarizaki (or the core members) were aware that a few people were holing up in the school, weren't too concerned about it. more of a 'keep an eye on it and see if it becomes a problem' kind of sitch. they didn't know that group included a woman, not with how anal the others were about keeping the reader safe and tucked away from prying eyes. it was pure luck that the twins caught sight of her during a patrol, a little while before iwa and the other two left and zombies found their way inside. funny that.

somewhere between 6-12 months. long enough for the world to go to shit and for people to become adjusted to that. sort of

mostly because they either saw their family and loved ones die or they believe the chances they're still alive are slim enough not to pin hopes and dreams on. also in the reader's case because even if she had plans of meeting up/looking for someone, they'd put that shit to bed real quick

honestly i think kita would want to disapprove, but how can he? yes the twins were reckless and yes they should have discussed this together beforehand so they could have planned this, but he can't and won't argue with the end result. the reader wasn't safe where she was, now she is. she'll have access to things she was woefully lacking previously, the twins are satisfied, it's the best solution all round. thanks in no small part to how seijoh 4 treated her, there's no chance she'd survive out there on her own. such a sweet, vulnerable, helpless little thing, how could the rest of them not just want to eat her right up? they are ofc unsurprised by the twins pulling some bullshit, but hey, no one (they care about) died right? win-win.

[justallihere]

I️ LOVE and ADORE Xaden going from “I️ don’t care about you or your feelings 🙄” to “Why wouldn’t I️ come for you and take you home? 🥺”

It really reminds me of this post where someone made the commentary about Xaden refusing to coddle and be nice to Violet, even downright being an asshole about it

To giving her his flight jacket because gods forbid Violet be cold for the 2-3 minutes they would’ve stood in formation!

Love love love that growth for him, like yes king! Tell us how much you love her through your actions! Give her that flight jacket and everything!

Chapter 35 was such a GIFT! I️ loved it so much! From Mira and Xaden shelving their dislike for each other for V’s sake and just mother henning her! Loved Xaden taking care of her and reaffirming that she can be upset at the threat against her hair and the autonomy she would have been robbed of, had Aetos actually cut it. I️ love how gentle he was, making sure she was okay, even arguing with Tairn about it on the flight home because their whole dynamic in canon is just over protective dragon meets over protective enemy to mutually assured destruction to lovers, and amari give us mercy that Violet gets injured around either one of them.

I️ was so shocked and legit almost cried at the confession because bby boy X was NOT letting her think that he didn’t love her! Really gives a whole “Aretia could burn and I️ wouldn’t care as long as I️ had you.” vibe to it and I️. Am. Not. Okay!!! I️ am not normal or sane about this love confession! V is getting some HONESTY out of this man without having to jump through 5 million hoops or questions about it. X really just said it with both tiddies and his full chest!!

I️ also really loved the display of Rhi and Xaden’s conversation. He knows how much Rhi means to Violet, and having her best friend with her is the best thing for her! I’m so nervous and excited to see if you include a convo with the rest of the squad about her torture sessions and just showing how much they all love her! Cam was right! Everyone who knows Violet Sorrengail is a little bit in love with her!!

I’m curious if Violet is gonna think about how she basically begged for her mom to come with them to Aretia, when she was freed and I️ wonder what Xaden would have done if Lilith had actually planned to go with her daughter… thoughts and theories I️ suppose!!

God Alli, there are so many little things about this chapter that I️ adored and so little time to write about it! I LOVE this fic so much that I️ always am ready to read the next chapter immediately! So ready!! I️ hope this doesn’t pressure you too much but I️ did want to say that I️ adore this fic so much!! 10/10 would highly recommend!!

Also I️ hope my sleep-deprived ramblings made sense lol! Thank you for such a wonderful story and I️ cant wait for the next chapter 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Xaden’s growth has been so fun to write. Just the little moments of his growing respect for Violet, realizing he actually likes her, falling in love—it’s been one of my favorite things about this fic

Thank you! I had a great time with the two contrasting sides of Xaden in this chapter: the version of him who loves Violet and will wipe her tears and do anything for her, and the version that is just an absolute asshole to anyone who isn’t her 😂 if your name isn’t Violet Sorrengail he really doesn’t give a fuck

There’s some squad bonding next chapter 🫶🏻

Violet will definitely be reckoning with that conversation with her mom at some point—Lilith said she’d come, but will she really? Xaden would let it happen for Violet, of course, but it wouldn’t be an easy adjustment lol

Thank you so much for reading and for this ask, I appreciate you 🩷🩷🩷

[lykegenia]

He Makes Her Cry (He Doesn't Like It)

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Pairing: Mason x Rhiannon Lloyd Rating: T Warnings: None Summary: After the disastrous attempt to stop a kidnapping leaves Rhiannon injured, Mason has time to reflect on his mistakes.

Read on AO3

--

Mason’s clothes scrape across his skin. It burns where air currents brush against it. He hears the biomechanical creak of the joints in his fingers clenching and unclenching, the working of his organs. The glare of lamplight on the bright, biohazard yellow walls makes his eyes water. Brick dust clogs his throat. In the next room, the hiss of the shower faucet masks Rhi’s heartbeat as well as her movements, and that sets him just as much on edge as everything else as he argues between needing to know she’s alright and knowing he won’t be welcome if he invades her privacy.

Fuck, he wants a cigarette. But she doesn’t like the smell and he’s not about to step outside and leave her when she’s still so vulnerable.

He’s already had to do it once. Transferring her over to the medic, to be swept behind a plastic curtain and assessed for who knew how much damage, was one of the hardest things he can ever remember doing, her limp, fragile human body too far gone in shock to even register being handed over like a sack of cloth. The worst part was when he finally let go, and the scent of her blood finally wound beneath his panic. With his mouth watering, he shed his outer layers right there and fled, threw himself under the stream of his own shower to be rid of it. He scrubbed under the stinging water until his skin was chafed raw and his nose and eyes burned with repeated latherings of soap. The memory of it lingers, caught in the back of his throat with the dust, but at least in her room he can focus on the other facets of her scent. Hand lotion. Sawdust. Beeswax. The unscented shampoo she switched to about a month back.

There’s no further sound as she continues washing off the worst of the grime from the collapsed warehouse, at least not that he can sense over the noise of the water. He suspects she’s making a conscious effort not to do anything that will have him banging on the door again – or barging through it – but if the silence goes on much longer he’s going to start tearing out his hair.

The emptiness gives him too much time to think. The hollow, glassy look of Rhi’s eyes when he found her. The bruises already blooming across her cheeks. The coldness he can’t fathom and can’t stand that she’s forced between them ever since that morning at the bakery when he so royally fucked up. It bothers him most that he cares at all – that if the wall that fell on her were just a little heavier, or the steel bars more exposed, or the annunaki less injured, then that conversation might have been the last one they ever shared. The words burn through his mind, the shame of them unfamiliar and unwelcome, but incessant.

Why did humans have to be so damned breakable?

What she wants is to see me naked, that’s all that’s going on here.

The instant the words spring from his mouth he wishes he could cram them back in. Rhi’s pulse spikes, blood rushes to her cheeks, the peppery burn of anger laces the air. A moment passes in iron silence before she turns away to gather her coat from the back of her chair.

Sorry, Haley, it looks like I’m running late. Put it on my tab, yeah?

He has an instant to register the stab of fury at being so thoroughly ignored before her gaze flashes to him with such vitriol he almost forgets she’s human.

You’re a dick.

He only catches the tremor in her voice because he’s paying attention. By the time he’s processed it, she’s halfway down the street. The joking line he tries to get her to slow down makes her round on him with a snarl worthy of a werewolf.

Will you just stop? How many times do I have to sit through one of your shitty come-ons before you get it through your thick skull that I’m not interested?

Her heartbeat betrays her. But it’s the sharp break from her usual stoic denial that drives him close, tired of rejection. There’s nothing wrong with my come-ons, Sweetheart.

My name is Rhiannon.

Why are you making such a big deal out of this?

Because I’m sick of it!

The words are hissed, like she’d rather shout but doesn’t want to draw attention to herself. Too late for that. She’s trembling.

If you’re that desperate for a fuck, go to a bar and pick up someone who’s actually impressed, because I’m done. I’ve had enough. I’m sick of being your punching bag. If you ever say anything like that about me again, I will be putting in a harassment complaint with your handler, understand?

He wants to scoff, to diffuse the tension and brush off whatever this is because since when have human emotions ever bothered him? Their brief passions never hold his attention for long. And yet, beneath the blaze in her eyes and the song her pulse is singing him, he recognises pain. He’s hurt her.

Do you understand?

I speak English, don’t I?

He snaps because he’s thrown. It’s not a state that improves when she turns on her heel and marches off.

Where are you going?

Work.

In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a bounty out on you.

What the fuck do you actually care?

It stopped him short. The tang of salt drifted back to him on the wind.

He smoked through a whole pack within an hour trying to take the edge off the strange, sharp ache in his chest, then snapped at Felix for daring to ask how his morning went.

The rush of the shower cuts off. A few last drips, and then the tentative pat-pat of feet as Rhi steps out. There’s a faint hiss of pain, followed by the rustle of plastic as she removes the protective covering for the cast on her arm. Mason bends his head towards the door. He catches the burst of mint from her toothpaste, time stretching too slowly as the brush scrapes over her teeth.

When the handle finally clicks open, he pushes off the wall so fast that she startles. For a moment she stands in the doorway in loose pyjamas, her hair a dark, damp mass down her back and her skin now clean enough for the bruises to stand out like wine stains against her cheek.

“You’re still here,” she blurts, with a note of surprise that twists in his gut.

He doesn’t know if this is a prelude to being kicked out, so he shrugs. “Didn’t know if you’d need anything.”

“Oh.”

Rhi’s gaze flicks over him with a wariness that’s becoming habitual now, as if this is an interrogation and she’s waiting for him to switch from Good Cop to Bad Cop. But she’s tired, too. He reads defeat in the slump of her shoulders as she shuffles past him towards her bed.

“At least I hopefully don’t smell like blood now.”

His smirk is hollow. “I can always smell your blood, Swee–”

No. She doesn’t like being called that.

What did you even see in that asshole anyway? he asks as her ex saunters away trying to hide how close Mason brought him to pissing himself. When he tilts a look sideways, however, she doesn’t seem to share his amusement.

You mean between the constant innuendo and the saccharine nickname I didn’t ask for? Not a clue. Her stare bores into him to make sure the point is driven home before she turns her back in clear dismissal. Stay out of it next time. I don’t need your help to deal with Bobby.

She catches his stumble now and her heartbeat jolts again, her limbs stilling for the tiniest instant before continuing the struggle of climbing under her duvet with only one working arm.

“Let me know if the forensics team finds anything, will you?” she asks, settling back exhausted against the pillows.

He makes a decision.

“I’ll know when you know.”

The creeping stiffness in her muscles means she has to turn her whole body to frown at him. Slow. Vulnerable. Defenceless.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” he explains as he drags a chair to her bedside.

“You mean you’re going to just sit there all night?”

“The medic said you have a concussion.”

It’s only half an explanation, but he doesn’t know how to articulate that if she’s not in front of him – safe – then he won’t be able to see anything but the memory of her being crushed under a pile of rubble. At least if he’s watching over her, he’s doing something.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promises.

Her jaw works. Her chest expands with an inhale that gets cut short by a wince of broken ribs, and whatever she was about to say dies in her throat. With the smallest shake of her head, she rolls her back to him and hunkers down under the covers. It’s a measure of how exhausted she is that she doesn’t argue, though it doesn’t lessen the tension coiled around the length of her spine. Her pain is a palpable thing, and Mason finds his hands balling into fists at how little he can help – not that actions have ever been his strong suit, and he’s even worse with words.

And then he smells salt. She’s crying again.

“What’s wrong?”

Her shoulders twitch as she sniffs. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m fine,” she insists. “Just tired.”

It’s him. Something he’s done. He’s fucked up again without knowing it and now she’s crying. Again. He can’t even pretend he’s annoyed because it’s a waste of energy.

“I can go,” he says. He even gets up from the chair. “If you’d rather –”

“No –” Rhi half sits up. Winces. “No, it’s alright. It’s just… been a long day.”

Slowly, in case she changes her mind, he settles himself again, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee. “You should sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

Another deep breath, cut off by pain. It’s an effort not to splinter the arms of the chair. Gradually, however, the stiffness recedes and her breath evens as sleep takes hold, her pulse slowing to a steady thump-thump that leads his own to follow it. She’s safe. It doesn’t matter if part of him yearns to see her face as she sleeps, to make sure her dreams remain untroubled; moving would mean disturbing her, and if she wanted to face him she would have done it herself.

Still, he’ll take what he can get. After the shaky ground they’ve been on since the bakery it’s a relief just to be able to stay. He’ll sit here all damned night if that’s what it’ll take to start him on the road to earning back her trust. He’ll stay. As long as she needs it.

[finalfrontierpublishing]

2023 in (bookbinding) travel

so i've been procrastinating big time since i got back from the US because i was jetlagged for something like 2 and a half weeks and was going to bed at 9pm, and then promptly caught COVID so i've been a bit MIA from bookbinding for a while. am shaking off the last dregs of it as we speak; am thankfully feeling much better.

i had the privilege of being able to attend comic con in san diego this year, and took great advantage of the fact that the usual transit spot is LA - i promptly hit up the California chapter of Renegade Bindery sometime last year and was like please please can i visit and thankfully they said yes!!!

this was one of two meetups for the US - i had the great privilege of meeting some other cali and non-cali members who were attending comic con - no photos but i did do a surprise book trade with @rhipidurafan of @fantailpress, which brought about the apocalypse great hilarity of the catfish calamity book trade.

guys... there are 11 million works on AO3, of which 70K of them are in MDZS. it should be statistically fucking impossible that we would both decide 'oh hey, this seems like a cool fic to bind as a surprise'. AND YET. AND YET! the gloriousness of the accidental acquisition of the same fic bookbind. WE BOUND THE SAME FUCKING FIC.

i think we laughed ourselves silly for something like 20 minutes straight. the lesson in a two way trade is to make sure there is a third person who knows exactly what the fuck is being bound to prevent things like this from happening in the future.

ALSO RHI'S COPY IS FUCKING GORGEOUS and i have spent many moments stroking it. ITS ROUNDED AND BACKED AND THE ENDBANDS! très magnifique, i can't even.

on coming back from san diego, i had the opportunity to hit up the LA chapter and GODDAMN, i had such a good time screaming about their lovely books and their lovely selves. i was also so kindly gifted pins, engraved and 3D printed tools, crepaldi paper and handmade stickers - THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU GUYS - YOU ARE SO AMAZING. some of the members came specially to meet me from hours away and i am so fucking touched, y'all.

the next day i also had the pleasure of being brought around the area where i was staying to have brunch and do a little bookbinder shopping and it was great.

i had such a lovely time meeting each and every one of them, my god. i didn't have the best time at comic con, which was very tiring and transport around LA was challenging as fuck without a car, but getting to meet renegade members was really, really fucking worth it and the best part of my trip, hands down.

again - this probably would never have been possible if i hadn't gone on my first Renegade meet up in March where i met the esteemed @celestial-sphere-press in Japan who brought me to eat excellent ochazuke and to explore the queer nightlife and didn't turn out to be a catfish (EHEHE) so really, i owe it all to des for helping me instill some confidence in my family that i wouldn't be kidnapped and murdered while meeting strangers on the internet.

anyway future travel plans potentially may include ??? GREECE WITH RENEGADE??? i am EXCITED and AM THRILLED AND CANNOT WAIT.

[kusundei]

i cant i feel sick. sick sick sick im fucking sick and idk what to do i feel sooo sosoo dramatic. plus im not even like ALONE i cant do anything his mom is right in front of me this is mortifying??? i just like cant stop shaking and i feel heavy. like i feel the weight of my body and its making me evil. i just cant stop thinking about it and in trying to rationalize. im okay its okay he’ll come back??? i left too. i knew he was going to go. i knew staying wt his house for as long as i did was goinf to kill me once i went back. i knew i knew i knew. i know and yet its still as bad as it is despite how much ive thought about it. i thought ifnoring it would save me or acknowledging it and prepping dor it would but nope. not saving me. making it worse.

Its just everythint thats happened these past few weeks keep replaying in my head and its like jesus chrisr. what the fuck im never getting this back? the time i spejt wirh him these past few weeks r probabky somethijg i will not experience again. at least not for a long time and not to this extent. being with him for that long keeps reminding me of how much i cant like? function? without him? its weird like of course i can function. but i shut down as a person. im not. happy. i dont think. its just it really occurred to me last night and i still feel awful i didnt finish his hw. if i have time i’ll do it and ask him dor his like login and turn it in for him but no i sat there for a while and just. it was tfb. i know it was they make ne EVIL i just kept remembering oh hes leaving. in a few hours. i did not want to sleep. couldnt. but i couldnt be evil either because i cant do that to him??? its so hypocriticalcbut its just like no he was already crying earlier i cant worry him like that. im nonchalant…… though i know he knew its just like. im okay enough. i know i couldve cried last night. not saying i didnt i did jusr a little. held myself in front of the fan cause i was forcing myself to be cold to stay awake and then just. idk. prevented me from crying i think? its just i laid with him and i kept thinking. oh this is the last time ill lay with him like rhis for q while. to sleep here w him. kiss him and just be in the same space and be simple and go out late at night and talk about random shit and not get wnything done and just be. to exist. it makes me sick. why cant i keep playing house forever? but no fuck that i dojt want to PLAY house i want to live it. i think truly these past few weeks may have made me selfish. at my core i know how i am and he says it all the time but you give me an inch ill take a mile ? or something along those lines its nust like . i cant? ive been shown something. given an opportunity. a life for a short amt of time incwhich i finally felt okay consistently? without feeling condemned? sick? evil? not saying it wouldnt happen every once in a while. of course it did i just sorta pushed it away because im taking in all the time i spent w gim and basking in that instead. i just keep thinkijg of how i mustve taken it for granted and not appreciated it enough maybe.

i know ill get back home and feel it again. it’ll hit me in full swing because ik myself. ill sit in my room and reqlise just where i am. how my life is and i cant escape the life ive been given. my circumstances and my life and everything i know i cant escape that. i cant escape my mom at least not for a long time and rhats the thing that weighs me down the most. im just tryijg to truly fight the feeling till i get home ? i wont tweak fully till i do. i know i will though. ive been fighting the same (ish) tweak for the past few weeks. i knew and i know. where i want to be still seems a thousand miles away ^_^ and pretendijg we feel safe right here gets harder everyday …. Heh. heheh. heh. i cant

[baylikeselephants]

Just now reading Fourth Wing (I know I know I’m behind!!!) here are my thoughts on the first book

Please note I haven’t read Iron flame yet so no spoilers! Oh! And I didn’t take notes until chapter 10 for some reason

EDIT: Sarah is my sister for context, she told me a few things

Fourth wing

Chapter 10

* mentions feather tails abhor violence… will she bond with one?

Chapter 11

* I don’t like Dain. Don’t ask me why just gives me the ick

* “Do something about it” and Sarah’s “lol foreshadowing” is a sex thing isn’t it lol

Chapter 12

* ooo look a feather tail showed up

* A golden feather tail????

* And everybody is calling it a mistake??? Girl like that’s not some wink wink nod nod shit

* Eastern boarder and bloodshot red Sarah? This is where brennen “died” yes?

* Dead dead dead. Everybody dead lol

Chapter 13

* a brown dain??? A brown???? Have you met her????

* Save the little one!!!

* Xaden to the rescue (like they would’ve needed it but nice distraction lol)

* Well actually ~he~ can’t do anything. But his dragon could yeah?

Chapter 14

* ahaha the big one!!!!

* She fell lol we are shocked

Chapter 15

* Tairn is sassy lol

* Lmao “and all hell breaks loose”

Chapter 16

* Ooo so Tairn doesn’t trust Dain??? Not suspicious at all

* Ahhhh bonded pairs ey? Do I think that means xaden and vi are meant to be no, don’t think they’re end game but 🤷🏻‍♀️

* Xaden dies before this series is over doesn’t he?

* WHY WOULD SHE TELL HIMMMMMM UHG NO I DONT TRUST HIM DONT TELL THAT MAN SHIT

* Manipulated threshing???? Like dragons give a fuck what riders think lol

* Now I have reason to hate Dain

* Oh here we go brennens death. He. Is. Not. Dead.

* “Because you put too much faith in him…knowing who to trust is the only thing that will keep you alive” to me = don’t trust Dain (or anybody)

* Uh maybe Xaden doesn’t die because if he dies his dragon might then blah blah blah

Chapter 17

* “Tell him to mind his business” that wasn’t just about that comment either I bet

Chapter 18

* They don’t have the book her dad gave her??? Did he write it? Or is it banned

* Violet has Oooo fancy pants rich McGee over here FUCK YOU energy with the rebellion relic thing and not sitting with anybody with it

* “I knew it would work” from Jack means he killed the rider doesn’t it. He tampered with their stuff or something

* Tairn called her silver one and now I have “silver and gold silver and gold” song stuck in my head

* Tairn growled at dain!!!! The bastard (not tairn)

* Tell him girl go off babes

Chapter 19

* Sarah told me they could talk to each other already but tairn told Xaden she was in trouble

Chapter 20

* “To what they think I’ll be, not who I am” then tairn’s response of “that shows excellent forethought” my guy knows what/who she is.

Chapter 21

* Hmmmm so he didn’t tell them what was in the scroll……. Not suspicious at all.

* Did the rebellion never really die and Devera is a part of it?

Chapter 22

* Is Jack allergic to oranges or making fun of her spiking stuff with poison?

* She’s gunnnnna channnneeeeellllll

* I know she’s Lightning or whatever but the comment saying Xaden’s voice is like a crack of lightning is great

Chapter 23

* Rhi saying “for now” is foreshadowwinggggg

Chapter 24

* what’s up with all the runes?

* Vi’s dad did research on the second Krovlan uprising and feather tails? But there’s no tome on it? This makes me think he’s definitely a writer and he did his own research and stuff and wrote his own books. Did he know what Violet would be?

Chapter 25

* surprise mother fuckers

* They’re breaking into her moms office aren’t they

* They are

* They (scribes) can make or break someone by writing shit down. Likeeeeeeee maybbeeeee her FATHER! Lol no but really I may die on that hill

* Was her dad Tyrrish? Is that why these runes keep coming back? I don’t remember

* Is tyrrendor where a server rebellion or something is happening?

* I love that Violet has a potion for everything lol

Chapter 26

* Don’t “what could possibly go wrong” Violet. What are you stupid

* Mira saw a bunch of dragons crossing????? Like maybe with Brennen??? Is this where he is

* Uh oh xaden. Somebody in troubleeeee

Chapter 27

* where did Imogen go?

* Good for Rebecca for the disability awareness there with “…nothing anyone can do about the way I’m made”

* Was doing what had to be done tairn? Something to do with imogen maybe? Or stalling the gryphons?

Chapter 28

* imogen is back

* “Only fire we’d be taking is from other dragons” like brennensssss??? The rebellion things I don’t know

* Jack is dead- I hope to god for real

Chapter 29

* Fable is underlined….. so the book of fables is more than fables ey?

* So so hear me out, if the fables were written by her dad. Maybe it was written like fables to throw off folks but it was actually a tell all from when her dad was elsewhere (tyrrendor???)

Chapter 30

* Ew lol

* Ah so the scars are for all the kiddos of the leaders

* “Should I get the wing leader” lmao tairn honey

* Also hate how Professor jackass (Carr) is studying her like she’s done case he has to solve

* She can’t aim?? She can when she’s mad enough just sayin

Chapter 31

* Ah she’s got the book of fables good good I wasn’t sure if she brought it back or not with all the chaos that happened there

* He went to an outpost? To fight or for something else?

* AHA HER DAD STUFFED SOMETHING IN THE BOOK

* Hmmmmmm suspicious

* He got cryptic after brennen died? Because it was all true (the fables?) and/or he knew brennen wasn’t dead?

* Oh shut up xaden like you haven’t already fallen for her

* I hate this. Every part of this stupid party is putting me on edge

* Omg does the fucking King pull some shit (besides that stupid convo with Violet and Liam)

* The damn parapet. Of course this comes back

Chapter 32

* Ah fuck. Garrick and Bodhi are gone.

* Can you guys tape it down for two seconds to figure this out please. Some kind of attack or something

* Ah. Am shocked. They are under attack. Oh no. Who ever could’ve guessed. OH WAIT. IT WAS ME

Chapter 33

* Well. I was close

* Athebyne? Again mentioned….. hmmmm

* Just now hitting you that they’ll be separated for 5 days Violet? Lord have mercy

* “She’s safer with me” Dain I swear to god have you learned nothing

* He’d (Dain) be one of those guys to say he LET her go. Like a jackass. Hate this guy right now

Chapter 34

* Little andarna 🥰 sleepy baby

* Oh. So she’s like got this weird feeling. And anxiety. And shit. So yeah this is going to end well

* Annnnnd gryphons

* Xaden knows her but can they be related or something?

* None of them are reaching for weapons except Violet. All the rest are marked correct? I think so.

* This is a rebellion chick or something then ey?

* Seeee they’re early

Chapter 35

* So the pre-chapter thing said there’s potentially a conspiracy??? Maybe to do with the Vyern (spell????)

* YESSSS I WASSSSSS RIGHHTTTTTTTTT

* But why is Xaden so stupid to bring her lol there’s got to be a reason besides her signet and the dragons

* Don’t feel betrayed Violet honey it’s okay. You gonna be on their side in two seconds no worries

* Yup dad spelled it out for ya love

* It’s empty for shits sake

* The dick

Chapter 36

* Liam is dying

* I don’t like.

* Liam is dead

* There are more. Omg how many are there

* Go get ‘em girl

Chapter 37

* fun fun. On his back. Yippee

* Dead. Haha

* She’s got a poison wound now but

* I know andarna lives but I swear to god if she comes

Chapter 38

* Hmmm I wonder who the familiar voice is

Chapter 39

* And mom what Xaden? Did I miss something

* I was right about Brennen (happy dance)

General

* are violet and andarna fulfillment of a prophecy? Because “golden dragon bonds with thought to be weak and pitiful girl” seems like a prophecy

[kittenofdoomage]

Hi Rhi! This might be completely random and probably long, but I’m really in need of ideas or advice. I’m currently 16 weeks pregnant with my first child, and my sex drive has completely went away. At first my bf and I would have sex 2-3 times a day, and now he’s lucky if he gets twice a month. I’ve read that a change in sex drive is normal and completely fine, but that it normally starts to correct itself in the second trimester. There’s also the fact that a few weeks ago, I found out I had a subchronic hemorrhage, which means that the membrane connected to the baby has a tear in it and I was constantly bleeding for 2weeks. I believe that’s also the time my sex drive completely went away as I was just worried about the baby’s health. My bf understood at the time, but just tonight he’s asked if I’m gay because I haven’t shown any interest in him sexually for almost a month now and expressed how it’s bothering him and he feels like I’m not attracted to him at all. I told him pretty much what I just told you, that my sex drive is just not what it used to be. I did let him know that I would work on feeling like my normal self, and getting my sex drive back. I guess he wasn’t happy with that response, as he ended up dressing and leaving, saying he needed to clear his head and would be back after he’s settled down. It’s been about 4hrs and it’s currently 5:40am and he’s still not back yet. Do you have any ideas at to what I can do to help bring my sex drive back? I mean sex is always the furthest thing from my mind, he’ll kiss on my neck and normally that would be enough to get me in the mood, but now I genuinely feel nothing when he does it. Any ideas or advice would be greatly appreciated!

Well that was something to wake up to 😆

Okay, first off, what you're experiencing is completely normal. I'm going back a bit but when I was pregnant, I abhorred being touched. Like, don't come near me, I will murder you. It put a strain on my relationship at the time (turned out not to be a bad thing bc he was a dick but that's a story for another time) and it didn't seem to want to go away.

The important thing you need to remember is that you are growing a WHOLE ASS HUMAN BEING. It's tiring. It's painful. Your hormones are gonna be changing from one day to another. Your bf needs to understand this, and not be a huge fucking baby about it. The fact that you're making an effort to try and revive your libido is more than he deserves, and you should not force yourself into anything you're not comfortable with. If he has any respect whatsoever, he will zip his bloody lips and appreciate that you're growing his child. No sex drive doesn't mean you're gay or not attracted to him anymore, it's mean you're fucking pregnant and he can go without getting his end away for a few weeks - I promise him, he will not die. What's he gonna be like for the eight weeks postpartum where your doctor will absolutely tell you that sex is a NO? Is he going to throw a tantrum? Probably not because he'll be experiencing a fraction of the tiredness you felt growing the baby when it's needing a bottle/boob at 3am.

Sorry if I've gone off a bit there. I'm testy where it comes to men who think pregnancy is easy and nothing is going to change. Your bf needs to realize he's not the most important thing and he cannot be coddled anymore.

I hope you find a way to feel more settled in yourself, anon, and that the rest of your pregnancy is smooth and uncomplicated. Please don't feel like there's anything wrong with you, you're an amazing human being and I wish you all the best xxx

[fliptop]

2 & 3

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

if id been asked rhis question ages ago, i would say that it is definitely easier to draw someone facing left (like 3/4th view). it’s actually easier for me to draw someone facing forward nowadays, but i do struggle less drawing at fairly normal angles ^^

3. What ideas come from when you were little

im not sure how to answer this question… plus my memory is quite bad. when i was little i mainly drew things i liked haha ^^ (sonic for example). ig the original TSM comic is a better example of the ideas i had when i was little? my lengthy explanation is listed below!

for context, TSM (The Shapehead Monsters) is a webcomic i’ve been developing for several years now. the characters can be found here, and my tags for it can be found here and here (<- tag for the 2017 reboot art specifically). TSM takes place an undetermined but very long time into the future, where Earth has surpassed the lifespan of humans. here, humanoid insects known as Shapehead Monsters can be found. the plot follows Susie Square, a temperamental but kind girl on the search for her family’s killer, and her best friend/crush Cecilia Circle, a cool and collected vagabond who has a penchant for getting into tricky situations. as Susie tries to solve her family’s murder, she and Cecilia uncover more about their world than they could have ever imagined.

the above context is true for the current state of TSM, which is vastly different to the original plot of the first TSM comic i did back in 2011 (i dont have pictures on me so you will have to imagine). the 2011 comic didnt even start with susie & cecilia, it was just a sketchpad comic centered around two girls who had a crush on the same guy. from what i remember, they were shapeshifting catgirls? this plot was probably most definitely inspired by anime (i grew up watching keroro gunso lol). the girls (& by extension the guy) didnt have any names iirc. eventually, these girls wage war on each other by creating these fucked up bug creatures (indirect kaiju reference) to kill each other but they end up falling in love. the first shapehead monster (susie) is derived from these two monsters, and then the comic shifts focus to susie & her mishaps at school. tbh these were probably based on how i felt as a weird kid back when i was younger. love triangle never happened tho

susie ALSO gets into a weird love triangle at school (sean & jake who do not exist in proper TSM canon LOL) & also has like an evil twin at some point named winter (for some reason i renamed susie to summer here but then went back to susie later unprompted)??? it was really fuckinf weird. i was just fucking around drawing these little bug things back then. i mean i still am LOL but yknow. i think i got the whole shapehead thing from the sketchpad itself, it had a geometric square pattern n i just saw that & went with it.

by the way, the 2017 "reboot" as i call it was supposed to be a reboot of the og 2011 comic, except the original plot was the plot of a show that susie & cecilia were acting in (it was supposed to be a rom-com in which they fall in love despite playing each other's rival in the show). i honestly don't know where this came from, but by 2020 i had rehauled the entire thing & came up with a proper starting narrative ^^

here's a fun little design comparison!

[hausofmamadas]

This was one of those things where like I thought I was keeping my cool until about halfway through when all semblance of cool was lost, and then I promptly realized I actually have no cool to begin with? Anyway, this broke me, so thanks

═

✷ If his brother was the only friend that he had ...

the way my first thought was “Uhhhhh....... no but he is KEKW”

✷ You knew he wanted to travel, like you. Loved dogs, like you. Wanted to be a better person than either of you had managed yet.

TO BE A BETTER PERSON THAN EITHER OF YOY HAD MANAGED YET. OMG PLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLS TELL READER IS AS MORALLY CORRUPT AS CORAL I WILL LITERALLY BOW AT YOUR FEET SKSJS

✷ I don’t give back as much as I should, he’d say. You ever try to balance it out? The good and the bad?

Sorry dhdhdhsb this is fucking sending me bc like I know what Moi means but the way this is phrased, like Moi, amor, you can’t just donate to your local Red Cross Organization and hope that tips the scales in the literal battle between Heaven and hell for your soul but like tu corazón está en el lugar correcto, si me sientes sksks

✷ You knew him like that, and it was enough. You knew him enough.

The way in shaking my head rn just “gorl, te lo juro, you absolutely know this man enough. You do not need to know about the depth of his Crimes”

✷ ‘No.’ He pouted, head shaking. ‘Solo quiero verte.’

OH GREAT bc just when I was thinking to myself like, “fuck yeah, keeping my shit together, this post isn’t gonna be totally unhinged,” YOU HAD SUCKER PUNCH ME IN THE NUTS WITH “solo quiero verte” LIKE THE MONSTER YOU ARE

✷ You let him live in the secret of it, the pretence that this was normal, that he just wanted to see you.

GODDDDDDDDDPDOKAKSKDJEJSJS OKAY THE PRETENSE OF IT???!!!!!?? Like im gonna be real rn, i have no idea what’s going to happen or what’s going on which you know I love, right but something about the fact that like Reader has to pretend nothing’s off, ignore that gut instinct and lean into the lie that this guy they’re into just really wants to see them and like knowing Moi, im sure he does but BY GODDDDD THERES SOMETHING REALLY FICKING HEART STIRRING ABOUT THIS AND I CANT TELL IF OM GONNA BE REALLY HAPPY OR REALLY SAD AT THE END OF THIS BUT WHO TF AM O KIDDING BC OFC IM GONNA BE SAD BC ITS FUCKING WHUMPRIL

✷ ‘Bad night?’

His head shook, elbows on the arms of his chair, fingers linking in the space above his lap. ‘No worse than usual.’

‘Wow. Is that why we don’t talk about it?’

OH GOOD GOTDAMN OKAY FIRST OFF INCREDIBLE DESCRIPTION OF MOi’s PHYSICALITY HERE????????? Like he’s basically got his elbows up, steepling his fingers like a regular James Bond villain but ngl, i hate the phrase “steeples fingers” in any serious context bc i do it only in like joking contexts but any time I’m writing a fic and wanna describe it, i Can never summon a better description and you just laid it out so simple right there and I’m just— BABBLING OKAY, YES, BUT ALSO LEARNING. SEXONDLY, I AM CLUTCHING MY CHEST AT RHIS bc like there’s something so meta about the fact that like Reader is sort of coming to the realization that he might actually be super dangerous but simultaneously trying to put that on a shelf in some deep, dark corner of their brain bc there are so many good things about Moi least of which, he happens to be like hellfire levels of hot, foine asf

✷ Why work was off-limits, why questions were never met with answers. Why he disappeared once the sun set, and came back before he’d slept, just to see you.

Oooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh sheeeeeeeit, i see what tf yku did there, seeing it, loving it, learning it, taking notes, and tipping my hat to you bc you know I’m weak for any kind of literary symmetry????

✷ ‘Go away with me.’ It wasn’t a question at all. ‘Tonight.’

Brooooooooooooooo WTFFFFFFFJDJJF WHY IS THERE SOMETHING SO IMPACTFUL ABOJT “It wasn’t a question at all” ?????? like someone explain to me wtf it is about that that SLAPS TO THE FUCKING MOON AND BACK THO

✷ From the desperation in his eyes, the fear—a new emotion, one you’ve never seen in his features—fear, and worry, and fast-waining hope.

OHHHHH FUCK ODD WITH THE FAST WANING HOPE, OHHHHHHHB I ACTUALLY HATE YOU FOR MAKING ME FEEL SMYTHING FOR THIS MANNNNNNN OTHER THAN SHEER LOATHING AND DISDAIN. Godddd fast waning hope...... Jesus

✷ You didn’t know him, you didn’t know him enough. Something was catching up at last, biting at your heels. Chasing him away from you.

BBGORL THATS CALLED YOUR LIMBIC BRAINSKSKSKS SHE TELLING YOU TO BLINK TWICE IF YOUR IN TROUBLE, SHE TELLING YKU TO RUN, NOT WALK TO THE NEAREST EXIT, SHE TELLINF YOU NOT TO PUT YOUR ASS ON THE LINE FOR THIS ADMITTEDLY STUPID UNGODLY LEVELS OF SEXY MAN

✷ ‘Please,’ he reasoned again, whispering now, ‘we could have something good. Real.’ He squeezed your hand. ‘Normal.’

Man this shit reallt speaks to the core of him as a character, i feel like bc truly, he wants to be normal so badly but doesn’t know how, to the extent that he can’t see this is the most abnormal way to establish a relationship and therefore, the lack of normal foundation makes it nearly impossible to be normal also ngl typical pendejo, expecting Reader to just pick up and leave with no prior warning, just bc he’s telling them to, is very on brand for him but also like imjustsosorry papi, it doesn’t matter how much of a freak between the sheets you are, I’m only hitting the streets to save my own ass at the end of the day just sayin

✷ You need time to think about it, you wanted to say, but that was taken from you like everything else.

LET👏🏽ME 👏🏽DO 👏🏽TELL 👏🏽YOU👏🏽 THE WAY MY STOMACH DROPPED AT THIS

✷ It just was, it happened, and you were there, heart jumping like they’d stabbed you with an EpiPen, and then it stopped. Just like that. No building collapse, no screams. Quiet in place of chaos ...

this is one of those paragraphs that just makes me want to stomp around and throw a temper tantrum like a 5 year old whose parents won’t buy them another piece of funnel cake at the carnival, okay. Like the Epi-pen line!!?????????)!!!? PROSE. Quiet in place of chaos ??????!???? A FUCKING BANGER OF A TITLE FOR A FIC AND ALSO ACTUAL PROSE

✷ He disappeared before you could ask why, arm reaching for the gun you’d never noticed, sitting in the waistband of his jeans.

God it really is so fucking fascinating how this is all almost becoming demystified for Reader like the gun in his waistband, the fact that he always carries it, it’s presumably in plain view like it is on the show, and they still didn’t notice it just speaks so much to how much work Reader has put into not seeing these things and therefore not knowing him really. Like the lack of knowing is almost by design

✷ He’s crazy. That’s what you decided ....

DJDKDKDKSKJSJSSJSJSJJSJSJDJSNOOOOO BC I BUSTED UP LAIGHING SO GODDAMN HARD AT THIS FOR SOME REASON LIEK AKSKSJSJS they can’t wrap their head around wtf’s happening and the easiest piece of driftwood to latch tf onto, in this freezing, storming ocean is just “ohhhhh, oh. I see what’s happening here. This mf is just NUTS”

✷ Maybe he was crazy, maybe he was someone you shouldn’t be spending time with, or dreaming about, maybe you should have never met him at all—it didn’t matter. You still didn’t want to hear the gunshot that killed him.

YIU STILL DIDNT WANT TO HEAR THE GUNSHOT THAT KILLED HIM— I MEAN— -9/9/$:$2!/9:99;8-9-0:&,!/1&-9:9;$!29/;&/0:$322.:2:9; wiwoejr rkwpsbdkwkeosbwwowiwodpsoslwnns NO BC MAYBE READER DOESNT WANNA HEAR THE GUNSHOT THAT TAKES OUT MOI BUT YOU WERE ALL TO HAPPY TO DELIVER THE GUNSHOT AND LISTEN GLEEFULLY AS IT FUCKING EXPLODES MY BRAIN BC TBATS WHAT RHIS LINE IS!!!????????? ITS A BULLET, ITS A THREAT???? ITS A DECLARATION OF WAAAAARRRRR OWKY????

✷ ‘It’s okay,’ he said, reaching for your face. ‘It’s me.’ ... It was him, yes, but what did that even mean anymore?

AS I LAY DYING ON THE GROUND, SPLAYED OUT IN FRONT OF YOU, A COMPLETE SOBBING, BLOODY MESS, PLEADING FOR MERCY BUT NOOOOOOEOEJEJEJSJE YOU JUST HAD TO COME OVER HERE AND CURB STOMP ME WITH THIS HEADY SHIT AS WELL BC YOUR BLOODLUST KNOWS NO FUCKIJG BOUNDS AND YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELFNSKSJSB

✷ ‘Where?’ You were whispering, voice crumbling around each word. ‘Go where?’

“Voice crumbling around each word” whatever I hate you but also, the way my foolish brain was like “Montenegro?? *cringe smile* Mayyybeeeee????” and then I immediately remembered who I was and what I was reading and what month this was written for and the definition of whump and what it means to suffer and promptly my nose fell off and my head deflated like that Squidward gif I always send you

✷ You couldn’t blink, you couldn’t move. The keys in your hand felt like a grenade, pin pulled, victims pending.

I mean— as if my condition couldn’t be any worse. PIN PULLED, VICTIMS PENDING ???????? OH JUDT FUCK IT ALL, SINCERELY FUCK IT ALL TO SHIT *throws pen down, scoots chair away from table, collapse on ground, melting, screaming*

✷ You stared at him. Twenty minutes earlier, you did. The day before, you did. But then, on the floor of the café-turned-trench, you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Once again, the listing of these impactful things, similar to the wuestionint in the beginning is like thematically poignant bc it’s like moments of complete suspicion vs complete trust which is so fucking genius, I’m actually smacking you with a giant mallet like one of those Strongman/high strike carnival games and believe you me, the bell at the top is a-ringing but then also like again, just poetically, prose-wise whatever tf, it flows beautifully and I just hate you and it’s fine

✷ You can’t imagine it, or re-live it now, no matter how hard you try.

DONT DO IT, DONT DO THE FUCKING THIGN THAT I KNOW YOURE GONNA DO BC YOU HAVE TO, BC THATS THE LITERAL ASSIGNMENT BUT IM STILL BEGGING YOY DONT YOU FUCKIJG DARE

✷ ... eyes on your feet, because you weren’t about to trip and fuck it all up.

SKSKS snorted so loud at this bc isn’t it just the realest thing

✷ You found him in the rear view mirror, watched him take a shot before twisting and crouching behind an upturned table ... it was like watching a soldier in the field. No army greens, but all of the control, the composure. He’d done it all before.

OHHHHH BC YOU KNOW I LOVE ME SOMEONE WHO KNOWS THEIR WAY AROUNDNA FUCKING GUN, THAT IS A RIGHT BIT OF MY BABY BOY THERE YOU-KNOW-WHO, IM NOT GONNA BE INSUFFERABLE BY EVEN SAYING IT

✷ And you go.

You put the car into gear, leaving him and the gunshots behind.  

If I didn’t know there was a part two, I’d literally be taking my phone and breaking it in half and rage-dancing on the pieces, whilst screaming obscenities into the popcorn ceiling of my apartment skskskske bc I would’ve assumed you’d DONE THE THING I EXPRESSLY SAID NOT TO DO but there’s at least another 2500 words for me to devour before that inevitably happens KEKW

the other man

moisés (sky rojo) x gn!reader, angst/action, 2610 words

canon typical violence and action

for day 15 of whumpril: flinching & ‘do you trust me?’

a/n: admittedly, i haven’t finished the show yet, so don’t have the full scope of moi’s timeline but.. when has that ever stopped me from putting a guy in a situation before? im moulding the blorbo how i like <3

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc​ (you guys must b sick of this kjdfhg)

You knew him without ever really knowing him. In the outskirts of things. You didn’t know his job, or where he grew up. Didn’t know how his parents were, if they were alive still, or married. If he had cousins or nephews. If his brother was the only friend that he had—if that’s who he spent all his evenings with, where he went after dark. You didn’t know him at all, in that sense.

But you knew him in the mornings. In the sun, arm raised to shield his eyes. Opposite you at the café of his choosing. You knew that he liked a pastel de nata with his coffee, and sitting outside, even when the wind picked up. Newspapers curling around the table legs.

You knew he wanted to travel, like you. Loved dogs, like you. Wanted to be a better person than either of you had managed yet.

I don’t give back as much as I should, he’d say. You ever try to balance it out? The good and the bad?

You knew him like that, and it was enough. You knew him enough.

Keep reading

[seijorhi]

Aaahhh fracture. What an amazing fic. Kinda embarrassing to say but i keep going back to that one to try to squeeze out more clues about osamu's thoughts... he's just as fucked up as he's hot lol but also very enigmatic. (Spoilers ahead)

We know he probably wasn't very happy about reader distancing herself from him and the sister, but did he know it was to give them space as a couple? if the sister hadn't threatened him with divorce, what would he have done to get the reader? was he going to conform to watch her from afar while he was married to her sister? what if reader got a bf/gf? during the end, he also says things along the line of "i know you want this too" is it pure gaslighting or did he delude himself a little?

Sorry if these questions are annoying, i just love your miya twins fics... scar tissue was amazing too, i wonder how he's gonna deal with reader now </3

have a good day, rhi!

the reader was always going to spend her summer break with her sister and osamu, and osamu was always planning on using those weeks together to make his move; the only difference would've been that if her sister was still alive, he'd have used her against the reader, threatening to tell – and that would break her poor sister's heart, wouldn't it?

and while the reader knows her sister loves her, deep down there'd be that flickering doubt that if osamu went to her and said she'd come onto him while she claimed he'd raped her, her sister might take her husband's side, and that would destroy her.

now osamu didn't go into the relationship with an intention of using the reader's sister to get with her instead. he truly liked his girlfriend, possibly even loved her – in the beginning. he fought with the burgeoning attraction, which quickly gave way to obsession. he tried to convince himself that the feelings the reader brought out of him were a product of his happiness in his relationship with her sister, which is easy enough when they're spending near on every weekend together. ofc when she started drifting away and spending less time with him them, that became more difficult, and that's when the cracks started forming in his relationship.

the distance drives him nuts. dealing with a failing relationship without having her around to take the edge off drives him nuts. it gets to the point where he's fucking his fiancee and the only way he can get off is by closing his eyes and imagining that it's her moaning beneath him.

so yes, they're both aware that the reader – oblivious to the growing disconnect and with the best of intentions – is trying to give them space. unfortunately, her pulling away only drives a wedge further between the two of them.

as for how osamu would react to the news of a romantic partner, he's not going to be thrilled about it, but he also doesn't necessarily view it as competition either. some college punk ain't really gonna hold a candle to him – he's older, better looking, knows how to take care of her, plus, she's basically his anyway. has been for a long while.

he's not delusional delusional. he knows that the reader doesn't want this, but he's playing into her insecurities and fears. he's already planted the seeds of doubt and she's already on the edge after dealing with so much over the past few months. he's not going to give her another option – they're family, and she's always loved him. maybe not in the way he wants her to, but she can't pretend that there hasn't always been something between them, that connection that drew him in.

[vermillionmars]

COWORKER — !!

sundrop x reader

cw/tw ; profanity ( a lot ), robophobia ( ? ), thoughts of violence, mc is mean

a/n ; hi so rhis was partially a joke to spite my friend but i also just,, adore sun and moon so,, but like i haven’t been in the mood to write so it’s crack,, haha! btw i’ve never written sunny b4 give me a break thx

“ — SIPPIN’ ON ORPHAN TEARS ! ”

“I fucking hate children.”

You did. You really, really did. They were loud and hyperactive, annoying and bratty and disrespectful. They were fast as well, zooming around the crowded daycare with no care in the world. Like they were in a race of life or death, they ran and ran and knocked everything over—all your hard work making it all neat and tidy, pristine and pretty, gone.

And to make it worse, they didn’t know when to stop bothering you. If you had to hear one more shrill, nasally little voice ask the same damn question, you were sure you’d pull your hair out in frustration. You understood they were tiny creatures with very few functioning brain cells, and were just naturally excitable and annoying, but that didn’t change your rage.

For one—one—day, could you get a break? Could they leave you alone for at least an hour…maybe two? Wishful thinking, you realized, but you could only hope.

“No, Mari, you cannot eat the glue. Jack, please get down from there—you’ll fall, and I don’t feel like dealing with a lawsuit today…or any time this week…sTOP—THE BALLPIT WILL NOT BREAK YOUR FALL—”

After dealing with all of the children (none of which had died, thankfully) and making sure they fell asleep comfortably, you sighed. You didn't understand how people could genuinely like these brats—how they could stand the constant need for attention, the neverending chatter, the general neediness...Then again, maybe you were just an asshole—you wouldn't doubt that.

But still, Jesus Christ, this job sucked. You'd much rather be forced to do maintenance on those neon animatronics. Sure, they seemed complicated mechanically and you weren't the best with that kind of stuff, but it was better than hearing a kid scream every five seconds and refuse to listen to you. Plus, that one guy—gator? Crocodile? Whatever he was—seemed kinda cool! Even with his stupid glasses...You were good at golf, in your professional opinion, so you could totally kick his ass.

Yeah, but you couldn't exactly leave your post. It was dangerous to leave children unattended, so you were stuck in this colorful nightmare for the rest of your career here. Stuck with...you shivered, kids.

"Fuck this job, and fuck Freddy Fazbear."

❥︎┄┄┄★•´

The best day of your whole life—whole life working at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex, that is—came on a bright, miserable Monday morning. You had been preparing your third cup of coffee when some guard—you couldn't remember their name, didn't bother to in fact, but you sort of recalled it starting with a V—hauled in a giant box.

"What in the Hell is that."

They huffed, slamming their hands onto their hips aggressively. "It's a robot. And as of now, your coworker. So, don't break it. Or else it's coming out of your paycheck."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I won't break the fucking—wait...coworker? What do you mean by that—" Your question went unanswered, because the guard was gone before you could finish.

"...bitch—" You eyed the box suspiciously. "Well, whatever! I don't need that guard, I'll figure it out on my own!"

You carefully opened the box—you were warned not to break it, so it was surely fragile right? The robot, as the mean guard had called it, was fucking heavy. That was the first thing you noticed about it. The second thing was its face. "A sun?" It was vaguely reminiscent of those old paintings where they gave the Sun (and the Moon) a creepy ass human face for...like no reason.

You almost screamed when its head started to spin.

"H~ello, friend!" It said, joyful.

"Uh, hello there to you too...pal?" What the fuck, why can it talk—you thought you would have to press some power button or something...

From there, the animatronic sun kept talking your head off. Man, it was just as bad as the children in the daycare...and this was your...'coworker', how? Screw your paycheck, you were damn near ready to rip its head off.

"So! So! What do you wanna do? Actually, wait wait—what's your name, friend? I can't believe I forgot to ask! AH! That was very rude of me, I'm sorry, friend!" It rambled.

"You're fine...no need to yell." You rubbed your head to rid yourself of your upcoming migraine. "I'm, uh, [Y/N]...and you?"

"Oh. OH! Oh, oh, oh—you can call me Sun! Or Sunny, or Sundrop! Or Sunnydrop! Or Sunrise—or Sunnyr—"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" You covered your ears and winced at the volume of its voice. "So, then...Sunny...to be blunt, why are you here?"

"Here? Why am I—" It looked around, taking in the sights of the brightly lit daycare. "Right! Daycare...attendant...help...OH! That's you, right?" Its permanent smile was honestly kind of creepy, top that off with its childish personality, and you had a recipe for something you knew you wouldn't like.

"Yeah, that'd be me." You groaned. "Not that I really want this job."

"Why not?" You could hear the frown in its voice. Its head spun lightly, the cone-shaped rays on it spinning. "It sounds fun! You get to play all day long with no consequences, and you can have all the friends you want!"

"Is that how you think it is?" You hummed. "If that's your opinion, you can take over for me..." Though you meant it as a joke, the robot seemed to perk up at the idea.

"YES! Er, I mean, yes!" It lowered its volume when it saw your glare. "I'll do a very good job, you'll see!"

"Mhm, sure. But when you get tired of dealing with toddlers all day, there's no shame in flipping the lights off and calling it a premature bedtime..." You yawned. "Speaking of which, if you're so sure you can do it on your own, then I will be resting."

"Okay! Rest well, friend!" It waved. You returned the gesture, though with a noticable lack of care.

"Don't die."

❥︎┄┄┄★•´

Sunny was actually remarkably good with children. It handled them delicately, making sure none of them broke a limb, tending to their concerns, and playing with them until they were satisfied. It trotted over to you when the kids were all sleepy, bells on its shoes and around its wrist jingling.

"See!" It clapped. "I did a good job, right?"

"Yeah, sure," you trailed off, ignoring the sun thing to fall back asleep. "Good job or whatever...do it tomorrow, won't you?"

"I'd be de~lighted!" If it could, its smile would've gotten wider.

"Cool. Now, fuck off please..."

"Hey! That's not very appropriate, friend! There are children!" The sassy pose it took on was enough of a replacement for its inability to frown.

"Who cares? Their parents probably say it all the time around them."

"Still, it's no good!" It waved a finger scoldingly. God, it was a hunk of metal—surely you could dismantle it and throw it away...for good...

Oh, but your paycheck...damnit.

"I'm so sorry, Sunny, oh great pile of metal."

It stopped its funky movements, clearly either offended or saddened. Not that you cared either way. It stood still for a moment, then, as if deciding it had had enough of your bullshit, walked away and hid itself in a corner.

"What—"

❥︎┄┄┄★•´

But don't worry! You made up with him—yes, him, he had anxiously said, essentially, "hey please stop calling me a bunch of metal smashed together and treat me like a person even though I'm not," which you followed—and were the best of friends! Well, kind of. You tried being as nice to him as possible...but you were naturally mean-spirited, so you found that rather hard.

But you were...trying...your damn best! Hopefully that was good enough...

Anyways. Sunny took care of your workload for the most part—a huge relief for you, though there were some things he wasn't good at (such as math and science and language), so you ended up having to teach the kids those subjects. With that, you fell into a methodical process. Sunny drew, played hide-and-seek and tag, and did fun, random stuff with the children while you took on the burden of being their tutor, almost. Then, by night, Sunny would usher you out of the Pizzaplex, telling you not to overwork yourself and that you should leave your shift as soon as possible.

You weren't sure why exactly he was like that, but he was very insistent on keeping the lights off...so maybe he was just scared of the dark? An animatronic programmed with fears…that sounded really stupid to you, but it wasn't like this company was known for being very smart.

Well, whatever. You'd find out eventually. He couldn't keep secrets from his coworker forever.