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#fic: it's raining it's pouring
elix8r · 9 months
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it's raining, it's pouring - teaser
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FULL FIC HERE
PAIRING: cheetah hybrid!mark x house cat hybrid!y/n
GENRES: hybrid!au, smut, angst, enemies to ?
TEASER WC: 0.54k i'm editing it rn and i'm thinking that the end product will be around 5k?
SUMMARY:  Hating Mark could almost be considered your part-time job ever since Taeyong adopted him. But on one fateful night, a raging storm strikes, and with Taeyong nowhere to be found, you find yourself seeking an unlikely source of comfort - your annoying cheetah roommate. 
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It was obvious that you were beyond stressed, and even without smelling you, Mark could feel anxiety radiating off of you. It was indeed storming terribly outside, and now Mark was becoming worried knowing that Taeyong was out there. But seeing your state, he came to the conclusion that it would do no one any good to have the both of you freaking out.
"Hey, I'm sure he's fine. I bet he's just waiting out the storm at his work. Why don't you come in here and wait together for him?" His words did not do much to ease your tension, but you did oblige (if it were other circumstances, you would never agree to enter his room, but desperate times called for desperate measures).
"But why isn't he answering my calls then? He knows that I hate storms, and I can't go through them without him! Mark, what if he's never coming back?" You had plopped yourself on top of his bed, eyes wide and lips quivering.
Mark sighed. "Y/N, now you're being ridiculous. Why would he just abandon us? He's probably not getting a signal or something more reasonable."
His dismissive response lacked empathy for your concerns, and you were now shedding tears. "What do you mean more reasonable? I think my concerns are valid! Maybe he's tired of us fighting all the time! I mean, we haven't been the best for him, and I know he's been having a hard time with us. It’s possible that he had it with us and just abandoned us to run away!"
The concern he previously felt was now gone as your dramatic rant slowly started to irk him more and more. Everyone knew that you were the main instigator of your fights, always being unfriendly towards Mark, so to have you group him with you had him scoffing. "You mean more like you were not being a good hybrid like you should have been. I mean, you're the one always instigating fights. I try my best to deal with you, but you're so bratty. Honestly, I'm surprised Taeyong's been able to deal with you this long."
Throughout the three years of living with Mark, you could only count a handful of times that he responded to you in such a manner. He was usually mild-mannered and overall just nice, so hearing this from him had you shocked. It was such a switch and instantly, you could feel his annoyance towards you in the air. 
"Ma-Mark, what do you mean?" Your cries had yet to stop, and Mark rolled his eyes at you. Were you that dumb that you hadn't caught on to how frustrated Taeyong had recently been with your behavior? Taeyong was usually very tolerant, but even he was having a hard time with you.
"Jesus Y/N, are you seriously that stupid?" Even Mark was shocked at how he was talking to you, but this pent-up anger towards you had been a long time coming. He had been holding it all in, trying to be as good as he could to you despite your actions towards him, but now he was reaching a boiling point. He was beyond annoyed, and maybe this cold hard wake-up call was needed for you to start behaving better.
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sukunasun · 22 days
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WHERE OUR PIECES FALL IN PLACE | NANAMI KENTO X CHUBBY READER
instead of an expected reunion—imagines that he’ll meet you in the middle of the street randomly one day by fate. maybe in a garden among pretty flowers but you’d be the only thing he can’t take his eyes off. or by the ocean, no one else but a man confessing his sins that shall be buried below water and he’ll be anew, he'll be forgiven—nanami is only left with silence on your end.
a sequel to 'SAY IT'S HERE'
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sometime in the middle of the twin's birthday party, when the candles are blown out and yuuji's tiger face paint starts to crack around the corners of his smile, geto hands nanami two slices of cake. nice thick wedges of strawberry and chocolate, alternating pink and brown towered high with rainbow sprinkles on top.
it isn't a surprise the twins couldn't decide on a cake flavour so geto layered them both, however, what does surprise nanami is that he hands it to him on a plate with ice cream on the side as well. he pokes his spoon into the melting scoop of vanilla and wonders how people have the appetite for something this insanely sweet. then looks up to see gojo gobbling down his fifth serving of cake, exerting himself in getting that last piece of boba at the very bottom of his milk tea, plastic cup contracting with these resounding pops they both ignore. not to mention that he's already gone through two pints of rocky road.
geto's face is stoic but reluctantly so, a crease forming between furrowed brows, "thanks for coming, and thank you for the gifts, the girls love them," is all he says, voice even. despite his loyalties to you, he doesn't forget that he's nanami's friend too.
which nanami could commend him for, he doesn't make it about himself, this is the day his daughters were born, he's meant to celebrate. call it common ground. geto's lips lift at the corners when he looks over to see the two of them slowly prying wrapping paper off the multiple boxes nanami had flown in. he'd been undecided on what to get because gifts are not his strong suit, he's never understood the need for such materialistic representations of love but he likes the twins, so he bought...everything under the sun. (yuuji helps them with the bigger ones and in the process, screeches so loud he almost breaks a window when it's revealed that nanako and mimiko have received not one, but two game consoles.)
"by the way, i'm not picking sides but i think you should talk to her," geto says warily, his hand clasped beneath his chin as he eases his way into the subject. to say that he's torn would be an understatement because he always does this. gets in his feelings and worries til grey hairs and frown lines appear yet, it shows. geto can't help but care for others and make it known, say it with words that don't get caught in his throat, and proves it through his many sentimental ways.
nanami almost dismisses the notion because it's not like he hasn't tried. it's been the longest time without seeing or hearing from you since...well, since you broke up with him via call, left your job, and stopped coming around the usual places. the cafe, the bakery. there had been a few missed calls in between (47 to be exact, all sparingly spaced out across weeks because he doesn’t want to seem too desperate. he's meticulous like that) some voice messages he's left in your chat that probably went unheard. he's even contemplated if he should show up at your apartment. (but he's not crazy. of course not.)
instead of an expected reunion—imagines that he’ll meet you in the middle of the street randomly one day by fate. maybe in a garden among pretty flowers but you’d be the only thing he can’t take his eyes off. or by the ocean, no one else but a man confessing his sins that shall be buried below water and he’ll be anew, he'll be forgiven—nanami is only left with silence on your end.
"i appreciate your concern, but this is neither the time nor the place," nanami's face is impassive, showing no signs of honing any hard feelings. not on the surface at least. "besides, what good will it do, she has moved on." a tugging in his chest is felt as the memories of you showing up at his favourite bookstore with another man come flooding back.
gojo interrupts his thoughts, "about damn time, she's liked you for ages, i tried warning her but who knows what she ever saw in you," he complains while geto clicks his teeth and shoots him a piercing glare because he's definitely not helping the situation.
nanami clenches his jaw, he doesn't need reminders. he of all people should be very well aware that he sits in geto's living room with pompompurin ears on his head feeling at his very lowest because he's lost you and he lives with that regret every day.
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the tokyo museum hosts an exhibition on rodin sculptures. his life's work displayed in phases, epochs depicting the best and little-known, of stories centred around great heroes and lovers. their lives and feelings depicted in dynamic poses, down to the most intimate of embraces chipped and carved into bronze, alabaster, and marble. a preserved intimacy, a history behind every look and touch. haunting and somewhat forever living...just like the image of nanami in that bookstore haunts you.
"thanks for that," you say to the man beside you. voice travelling over the loud chatter among patrons. young and old and excessively rich. looking down, you peer over the pamphlet tucked by your elbow, stepping before different sculptures of varying sizes. you're stunned by the mastery of craft and precision but the emotions evoking within you are hesitant. like it was...wrong to be here with someone else. to be looking at these figures and having no relation to them. all that passion and yearning, why is it that you feel grief instead. a part of you missing.
"i saw it in his eyes, he's guilty," higuruma strolls next to you, bored out of his mind. “i mean, he looks guilty.”
“i’ve never seen him like that," you explain. not even when there were rumors about his past breakups floating around the office. nanami only seemed nonchalant. like it barely affected him. cutting someone loose a mere task he's checked off before it's back to work.
“what did you think he’d look like?” higuruma asks.
“relieved? happy?” he looked like a shell of himself, hollow, miserable. you wished you could relish in that, take pleasure in the way he seemed so empty, so dejected. payback, you think. for only loving you in silence, and thus, he suffers in silence too. but you find that you've been feeling just a brokenhearted.
hiromi shrugs, “from what i've seen, you’re entirely capable of making him as..." he pauses—tilts his head when you both come closer to a sculpture—then continues, "...afflicted as he is with you."
whatever hiromi means by that, you don’t know. his voice almost lost on your ears when he moves away from you to examine it closer. here, the sculpture portrays the man as a figure who is fully at the woman's disposal due to the adoration he possesses for her. 'The Eternal Idol' it reads. tenderness, sensuality, submission, and humility to the world in a woman's form.
you dismiss him, “please, you say that like he was head over heels in love with me, i think he just pitied me,” luring you in with the homemade bread and leatherbound jane austen. a voice so soothing and a face you see in every other man. an urge to place him next to them in comparison, hoping they’d shift and mold themselves to be the capable salaryman with blue shirts and a suit jacket that pools over your shoulders, smelling like tea and galettes and that they’d be just like him. only that they’d love you differently, loved you more, kiss you til your lips swell, and there wouldn’t be a need to hide or to fear or make you chase after the unknown, you’d know he loves you and only you. 
"these accusations you make are unfounded,” higuruma merely states, "and it's also rather unjust to yourself." when he turns towards you, you expect to see a teasing, flirty glint in his eye. instead, you're greeted with nothing but his flat expression before he looks away. oh, he was just being factual.
“you should be his attorney," you try to joke.
his lips quirk up by the corners, “not even i could plead his case, the man reeks of remorse, even if he did deceive you, he’s not proud of it, which makes him less likely to defend himself..." his hands come up to brush over the engraved caption on the plaque. they're nice hands, rough, but a little too big, too gentle, like he could let you go at any moment if he wishes. nothing like nanami's. if nanami were to hold your hand he'd hold on for dear life.
“there’s no justice in that,” higuruma's decided he's done with this sculpture, picks his head up and moves away to the next one, he doesn't get attached. he doesn't linger. maybe that's why you never took things further, he's always seen things in black and white, like you were just another one of his cases. saw the teary look on your face, the long hours pouring over every detail leading up to the end and he couldn't leave it alone.
you sigh, wrapping a hand around his arm as you continue to walk down crowded corridors. "speaking like a true lawyer, one who's so distinguished."
he breathes out a rare laugh, not a real one, just these puffs of air he exhales along with a grin. "so depraved, haven't i told you the system's fucked?"
at that, you let out a laugh too, for the first time in awhile, "i'm afraid it's the same when it comes to matters of the heart." you look up, savouring him for now. he's just here right the wrongs, bring some perspective, and that was all there was to it.
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by midnight, your phone starts buzzing by your side, jittering against the mattress. without looking at the screen, you have an idea of who it might most likely be on the other end.
ding. ding. you reach for it to see that it's nanami again. for the fifth time today. a new voice message he's recorded for you sitting there in your messages. waiting as always, for your recognition, for your reply. you wouldn't want to give him the privilege or the pleasure. you've broken up with him after all, but you're unable to pull away from him and his futile attempts. forget that you have yet to wake from the lingering bits of a dream, or that you've got an interview come morning.
nanami's voice fills the emptiness of your room, spine-tingling and molten hot. you almost miss the intros—hi, hello, please bear with me, all the usual. you've heard it in clipped and composed tones, as if he's rehearsed these lines, must have written them down on his legal pad before pressing record, his lines spoken awkward and uncertain way, tightly wound in guilt.
only now he sounds different. the exhausted drawl, the languid pulling of his syllables, slurring and seductive. "those hyacinths..." he starts, "don't over-water them." he had them delivered to your place and you had only accepted them because they were a gift, it would be sad to turn them down after he's paid for them. plus, it would be a shame to send them back, these florists have put in so much effort.
nanami pauses for a second, you hear him taking big gulps, no doubt the whiskey bottle is empty at this point before he continues, "am i any closer to getting you back?" after a short pause, the message goes silent, like he's realised what he's asked.
you press play on another where rambles on, or whatever is nanami's version of rambling. a deep voice rumbling from his chest, a heavy sigh, a string of words you can't tell decipher. if they're genuine or not with how needy he gets. nanami never gets needy. nanami never begs. it's just the alcohol talking, you wouldn't know what he's like when in the throes of proclamation...still, his voice curls its way into your heart, wringing it tight when he drawls, "tell me so i can be put out of my misery, or better yet, come back into my life."
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geto and gojo sit across from you at the library. their bodies dwarfing the kid-size chairs and desks. close by, mimiko and nanako work on their math problems both with equal amounts of distaste but suguru's promised they'll get double the snacks as a reward for tackling their multiplication tables, hence they try their best, fingers counting down one by one.
on the other hand, you're busy colouring a page from a fairytale. a scene of a royal couple dancing at a ball, lingering by the edges is a crowd looking on happily as they twirl under glittering stars, a whole universe cheering for their union. you hold back the forlorn sigh as your hand involuntarily reaches for a yellow crayon, even here, you wish to colour in blonde locks below the prince's crown. you can't see it any other way.
"sorry about the party," you apologize, missing their birthday bash hadn't been the plan, but suguru had given you the heads up on nanami's appearance and you thought...it wouldn't be a good idea. things were still too fresh, too new, it would've been uncomfortable for everyone.
you know it was a selfish excuse, but suguru won't hold it against you. "i understand," he replies but his smile doesn't reach his eyes. 'i understand' doesn't mean the same as 'it's okay to miss out on a special day because you're afraid of conflict'. which is why you're trying extra hard to make up for it now. shifting focus to your friends instead, you avert your attention. dodging any discussion about the breakup, or nanami, or the fact that you cling on.
satoru however, doesn't fall for any of it and jumps into his interrogation. his honesty comes out sharp and biting albeit genuinely oblivious—"how long are you planning on avoiding him?" his voice is too loud for comfort and the librarian would shush him if it weren't for his charm. he's been flirting with her so they get to check out as many books as they want, plus, waiving late fees goes against geto's rules but he'll take it as a kindness for now.
you roll your eyes, he's way too good at reading you, or maybe you've just been so transparent anyone would've notice. "i'm not avoiding him, it's called moving on," you try to reason, although it's starting to sound exactly as gojo puts it.
nanami chases you down for reconciliation and nothing more, a settlement of sorts. you've already assumed it was because of guilt. he doesn't want to be the bad guy possibly. why else would nanami be leaving messages, making calls, and sending a million flowers if not as an act of atonement.
and when has he ever needed to repent, nanami's always been so aloof, you've seen him brush things off with a calm and cool demeanour, sorry is merely a word he gives to strangers he's accidentally bumped into on the train. he'll come out of this with that perfect head on his shoulders held high after the remnants of past memories have faded and no longer hold any significance to him. he could always bake more french loaves and there's more wine to be tasted. he'll continue siphoning his emotions into the separate little folders of his makeup. you've never taken up the space of his heart because that shall be reserved for someone else—"he'll get over me in due time," you say, loathing how the words taste, how it makes you hate yourself.
"geez," satoru shrugs off the tension from his shoulders, "melodrama doesn't look good on you," the jab strikes where it hurts the most.
your face falls, give it a few seconds and you'll start crying in the middle of the children's section, "i guess i wanted more," you swallow down the embarrassment, typical that you've ended up here. back to where you've always been. single, jobless, a few pounds heavier, a few more cracks in your aching heart.
"there's a lot going on—" suguru cuts in, hoping it'll make you feel better, "—it's okay to feel as you do." sympathetic as it is, you start to wonder if you've traded in a birthday for a pity party when there's a truth in what satoru says.
in the silence that passes, the scene you work on is full of colour, save for the stars you've left in white. the twins have completed their exercise sheet, and satoru stretches his limbs and yawns like a cat basking under an afternoon sun. suguru might give him a pep-talk after this and he might feel bad for bringing up the whole thing, but it has to be said— "talk to the guy, he's never looked worse."
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on the walk home, the clouds start to gather. greying skies and thunder roaring above you. behind the clearing of mist and cold, you see him standing right outside your building. not knowing how long he's been there, but judging by the steady rhythm of his pacing feet, nanami's been waiting for a while. if anything, he's patient and—god help you—persistent.
the drizzle gets heavier and rain pours down over his body, soaking through the layers of fabric; his coat, his tie, his white shirt. golden blonde hair turning into a muddy shade of ash, strands clumping together, droplets hanging off and sticking to his skin. to his foggy glasses, thin-rimmed and shining. although drenched and dishevelled, he is every bit the man you love, and you hate that you can't look away, turn him down and kick him to the curb, pretend he doesn't exist.
taking him in, your heart clenches when the light of a lamppost next to you cuts a glowing line across his sullen face, highlighting the deep depths of his cheeks. you see that he looks exhausted, more so than usual, and he's lost a little bit of weight. you think to say something, ask him if he's been skipping meals, that it's no way to deal with his remorse. anything that would break the tension but kento beats you to it.
"we need to talk," he says in a low voice but it takes almost every fibre of his being to say it, "i thought this was the only way we could do so." he recognizes what he's doing, he's being invasive, he's being desperate and when was that word ever associated with him. not til now he supposes, not before you.
“don't you know it’s embarrassing to chase after an ex?" the bite won't be drowned out by pitter-patter, it stings, but he doesn't move an inch. swallows that lump in his throat and prepares himself for the words he's about to utter.
"i am not the best with words, but believe me when i say i am not ashamed of you–" he pauses. waits for your reaction but chooses to continue, nothing will come in between, not here and now, "forgive me—for my ignorance, for my restraint, it is because of me that you felt our relationship was one-sided."
that should do it he thinks, he's laid it out on the table, he's said what he came to say. placid and concise. and at first, he's relieved, he professes and proclaims without expectation. he didn't come here hoping for more, that part of him has been tampered with and put out by his own self-doubt. he only wishes to let you know. he'll force himself to be content with solely acknowledgement.
but he starts to worry when he sees the anger seep into your features. “you’re upset,” he states, unsatisfied, "i thought it would be best if we got closure—"
“did you come all this way just for closure?" your question hangs in the air. each passing second filled with the sound of raindrops and the million thoughts bouncing off his brain. you shouldn't put him through this anymore, it's practically ruining him from the inside out. “you’re forgiven, let it ease your conscience,” you say, ready to turn away and leave him for good this time.
he sucks in a breath, frustration prickling all over, “i am a man that’s lacking, trying to convey to you the things that cannot be conveyed, i have never been a passionate person and you knew this." you can see it so obviously in his expression that you've made him this way, twisting him up into knots over the need for verbalization, for definitions and arguments he can't give.
your eyes narrow, getting defensive. you always thought you could be the exception, that you'd be the one to experience it firsthand, his fervent need for you, whatever version of it you could get. "you denied me in front of people you cared about, you were always so cautious and constipated, like you couldn't bear it, i get that you're not into big girls but—"
"that's not true!" he says quickly, voice rising with tension. his hands come up to hold your face in them, thumbs rubbing over damp cheeks and warm skin before realizing...he's neevr actually felt it. how does a man concede, he's scared, fearful of an inevitable end, "i didn't want to lose you," he admits softly. lips less than an inch away, breaths a hair's width apart.
you try to pry his hands away, shaking your head, there's no use when "you can't love me the way i want you to and maybe i'm not the one who's meant to be loved by you."
nanami doesn't let go, "i can only love you the only way i know how, it was never my intention to make you feel less than—" with no more hesitance, no more weighing speeches and consequences, he tells you the truth—"my love for you...has made me selfish. it has consumed me, i want you so much that i don't know what to do with it. why should i put you through that, burden you with me."
"you were never a burden 'ken," his name sounds so bittersweet, as if there's still a fondness there, the way you gently hold those syllables without spite but he hears the longing, the hurt. "i didn't want you holding back for my sake, i've liked you for so long, i was ready for it all, even when it came to losing you, i don't need you to be something you're not."
he's never had that ability, despite his efforts, he isn't capable of detachment, with all his distractions and defeats, he's ultimately bound to you, too well tangled in his soul. "you shall move on but i cannot do the same—my life starts and ends with you, do you understand?” 
you nod silently, looking up at him with widened eyes and catching the specks of dew on his lashes when his eyes travel toward your lips, his thumbs caressing them tenderly, benevolently.
"despite my shortcomings and the fact that you are now seeing someone else, i would like to try again, please allow me to do my best." nanami opens up to you as a flower blooms, petals blossoming, coming apart to reveal the innermost parts of himself. red spreading across his skin from the tips of his ears to his lips when he parts them under yours. he wasn’t made to hide it, all that restraint keeping him from you, from what he knows is his deepest desire. made to love, loudly and forever. there, where two lives meet again, coming together and converging.
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lunarharp · 11 months
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into the deep end - 30k T orufrey fic, focusing on memory trauma, disability, and romance.
the sweet oblivion of the victim, the poisoned freedom of the other.
for one moment - it had felt like two parts returned - the needed reunion of two disparate halves. no more secrets, no more pain.
the moment you get to give back what you never wanted to take. that moment, under the night-blooming flowers, when they had both let out the same single broken sigh of relief.
but they were never whole to begin with, were they?
qifrey swore he wouldn't say 'sorry' to this man any more if he could help it - sorry is cheap now. he didn't want to be in a position ever again where you only have 'sorry' left. so he just looks down into the threads of his blanket, strains his eye until it hurts, feeling his insides - his throat, heart and head - burn with pain. he expects more, but olly says nothing.
olly says nothing.
#witch hat tag#orufrey#sorry i wanted to make a new post for my fic since the first illustration is new.#*stands in the middle of a desolate field in the pouring rain* Please Read My Tale...Blease..Oh god please..*collapses to the ground*#someone asked if there's spoilers in it. Um...yes. Sorry...it's about everything#maybe i should describe it more? it's about qifrey becoming more and more disabled - as i feel is his canon trajectory#and both of them processing the choices that have been made. it was necessary for me to explore this in order to fully understand orufrey#and for them to have the cathartic conclusion-that's why this is important to me for my witch hat fanwork making life. this connects it all#and having dived into qifrey's mind and lived through oru's feelings i was able to get to a place that is possible for them.#the hit/kudos ratio is so pathetic idek what happened. ppl opening it realising its long and saving it for later or just bailing lmfao#idek any more i hate advertising my writing i hate trying to get more ppl to read my long fics it's so hard 🥲#i'm so much prouder of this than my art...i was able to sink deeply into the orufrey feelings i had always wanted to fully explore#so. it's there lol.........i reread the date/kiss segment today after trying to forget about it thinking maybe the fic is just BAD lol#and like.....nope! i like it very much and this is what i was trying to get across. and it's always there to be read by anyone who wants to#and i will always remember the bliss i felt while writing when i was just lost in their world and living as them. dear GOD i love them.#i'm grateful to myself that i put in the work and love to make this so that i can always come back to it. i wanna illustrate scenes properly#but i'm never satisfied with drawing things i've written because i just can't capture the vivid experience in my mind. maybe one day.
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kastlequill · 5 months
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when it rains (it pours) (1/1)
gojo satoru x iori utahime | m | 9.2k
“So this is how you want to play it, then.” He rubbed at his forehead with the back of his wrist, and the movement brought his dagger dangerously near her face. “Have it your way. Need me to make an honest woman out of you?” “I’d rather die,” Utahime retorted, her tone vehement. But when she tried to turn her head to the side, his free hand took ahold of her chin, firm yet startlingly gentle, and redirected her focus onto him once more. “That can still be arranged.”
or, her job is to kill; tonight, his is to save
a spy x family au
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innerexpanse · 10 days
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saw the original post and I jsut had to
not sorry
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rockingrobin69 · 8 months
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Certainly
They went to three different venues and Harry was beginning to feel a bit like goldilocks in that story about the bears: the first place was too small, the second too dear, the third didn’t smell right. Yes, it didn’t smell right. Because apparently Draco was a connoisseur of scents, of sorts, and the patchouli and sandalwood was giving him a headache. They bickered all the way back to the parking lot.
About silly things: the washing they forgot to take out of the machine and the season for sheep-shearing, rocks versus stones and would a giraffe wear a tie at all to begin with. What if it was getting married Draco asked and Harry said then it would be in a full fucking tuxedo, wouldn’t it and they both snorted, still annoyed, and looked away at the sky where the rain they’d promised on the telly never came.
Draco’s fingers were clammy in his. It was muggy, and a little disgusting, and Harry was hungry and also possibly developing a slight headache. Not the sandalwood but the constant fucking blather, which truly was reeking. Harry wished he was smarter and just didn’t engage.
Was engaged, to be married, to this absolute arsehole. Grabbed Draco’s arm just before they got to the car, pressed their foreheads together. Breathed.
“We’ll find a place eventually.” He meant: it doesn’t have to be this hard.
“Maybe,” Draco huffed. He meant: it probably won’t be easy either.
“We can always get married in our back garden.” You know I’ll take you anywhere.
“You can always go fuck yourself in the back garden.” Take me somewhere better than our own bloody garden.
“Shut up.” Kiss me, you git.
“You shut up,” Draco said, and put his arms around Harry, probably meaning something with it, too. Didn’t kiss him. Took Harry’s chin and lifted it up just a touch. “I can’t believe,” he swallowed, blinked those never-ending eyelashes, “we’re actually doing this.”
“Yeah. We’re doing this.”
“Getting married.”
“The whole thing.”
Draco’s eyes were huge against his. “Are you sure,” he stopped again. Wrinkled his nose, bit his bottom lip. This thing in Harry’s chest went rampant, lightweight and impossibly tight. He kept thinking, it’s going to rain, it’s going to finally happen and we’ll get soaked and have to run to the car and we’ll tell this story when people ask, we’ll have the rest of our lives to tell this story, this one right here.
It didn’t rain. The air was stuffy and oddly warm, and although it threatened to, it never rained.
Still he kissed him, in the parking lot of the hotel that didn’t smell right. Draco made a little sound into his mouth, soft and surprised, kissed back. He was a fucking arsehole and they might just end up getting married in their back garden after all. It’ll be a disaster, whatever they do, but this moment will always smell like this: disgusting and warm and Draco.
Yes. Harry was sure.
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cloudxxiia · 7 months
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"And what if this was never about me, because that was how I'd wanted it to be?"
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starting Small with a meet me in the pouring rain chapter 5 visualizer, for UndyingFlame week Day 1 — with the prompt (new) beginnings!
meet me in the pouring rain is a 5-chapter, 22.6k-word pre-timeskip undyingflame fic by yours truly! it explores joshua and jote's relationship through joshua's eyes, inspired by taylor swift's sparks fly. 🥰✨
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raedalumity · 11 months
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" The Boiling Isles has been saved, Belos is gone, and everyone has made it out alive. No one deserves rest more now than Eda and Raine, who also waste no time rekindling their love and relationship again.
This fic will cover how these two got back together, their hard work to repair and rebuild the isles, and the eventual and long awaited marriage. Fluff, domesticity, and a wedding all await Raine and Eda in their new life together. "
LINK TO FIC
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Hey peeps, so a little bit of bad news. If you're following for Welcome to Hell, I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm quite a bit behind due to a medical emergency, and the fallout from it has kinda sapped my motivation for now.
Not sure when to tell you to expect chapter 7 but it may not be for a decent while. The story is NOT being abandoned, but I will be continuing at a much more leisurely pace. Very sorry everybody! Thank you for understanding!
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shinyfire-0 · 1 year
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a moodboard for a fic I wrote, Pour like the Rain
image credits under the break
from l-r
Charles Marville, Red Wine, The Death of Chatterton by Henry Wallis
The Horse Fair by Rosa Bonheur, M. T Liepke, Pretty DrugThings,
Violin, xoxo, The Fall by Alan Stephens Foster
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skyward-floored · 4 months
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Mmm cozy hibernating kind of day
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samstree · 6 months
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any fic that mentions anakin liking the rain is just 👌👌👌
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baejax-the-great · 7 months
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God I'm still not over people bitching about fanfic being in the tags.
When I first tried to dip my toes into fandom, a thing I knew almost nothing about, I typed "mass effect" into the search bar. What I got was image after image of 3D renderings of asari with phalluses having group sex (and I think Miranda was there sometimes, too). Was this what I was looking for? Absolutely not. Were these images incorrectly tagged? Nope. Did I want to see them? Not really. Was it the fault of the artists that I saw them? Nope.
That's just the nature of searching for shit online, especially such a half-functional website like Tumblr. It's a fucking grab bag of whatever the fuck your fellow humans are up to at any given time.
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wangxianficrecs · 1 year
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Proud Author of a New Work
~*~
hello! i’m here as a proud author of a new work (and thank you so much for this function, writing for a prolific fandom like mdzs is hard. things just get lost in the current!) this is a case fic! in which, being made to stay overnight at an inn due to a storm, wangxian and the juniors slowly start to notice that something seems… wrong. this is loosely inspired by horror podcast called the magnus archives, but the people who don’t know it won’t be hindered. if you enjoy: Dynamics, wangxian being soft and married and protective, the juniors being awesome, hurt/comfort for the soul, banter, A CASE FIC, good angst (and writing), and some musings on the nature of fear, memory and trauma… here we are! 12k, ongoing, chapter count might change, author is crazy.
it rains, it pours
by jublis (not rated, WIP, 12k, wangxian)
Summary: Wei Wuxian dashes across the distance that separates him from his husband, like a child running through the dark as if that would lessen its existence. He grabs Lan Zhan’s hand and holds the arm close to his side, to a soft breath of laughter. “Come on, Hanguang-jun,” he half-whispers, because the atmosphere seems to call for it. “Light the way for us.” (Wei Wuxian has scarcely known fear to be gentle — and still. It's as if there’s something murmuring down the hallway, behind the closed door, next to the window in this howling storm: I’m here, I’m here, I’ve always been here…) Or, as Wei Wuxian starts to look into the reasons behind the unsettling notion that something is not quite right, something else starts to look back.
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(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)
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thatbendyfan · 8 months
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was reading a fic and
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hEY HEY !!! WHO !!!!!!!
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kastlequill · 5 months
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Hiii i just readed your gojohime spyxfamily au fic and i must say it was so good!! I know its up to your liking but would you ever think of writing a second chapter or something? 🥹 Have a nice day!!
hi, thanks for reading! i’m glad you enjoyed it :)
i probably wouldn’t add a second chapter, but i’d be open to writing another oneshot as a sequel. i want to start on/get through some other gojohime fic ideas first though ^^
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