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dollwritesarchive · 1 year

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𝐢’𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 ( 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 ) — 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ this is a dark fic. smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, infidelity ( diego’s canon marriage ), technically stepcest, diego is in fact a bastard, degradation, abusive behavior, threats and mention of murder, dub con and then noncon for like a second, breath control, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ i haven’t read sbr yet but i really like him okay. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

“Oh, fu—“

Diego’s hand claps over your mouth; thumb and forefinger pinching your nostrils closed as he shoves you harder into the wall. “Shut up,” he barks in your ear, but his voice is uneven— raspy, as he hisses through his clenched teeth, “just take it, don’t ruin this for me.” one of your hands claw at his wrist, but the other outstretches, smacking your palm against the table to your left as you scramble to find some sort of leverage, some way to counter the furious pressure you feel from the assault, but you hear glass shatter against the floor. an expensive vase. if Diego hadn’t been fucking you so roughly, you might’ve been able to grab the pottery before it tumbled over the side of the table, but there was no reason to worry about it now. so, you didn’t. you moan into his palm, nails scoring the leather on his wrist. you could taste it, too, and it smells like the barn, with the rest of his equipment.

“Jesus,” he scoffs, incredulous that even now, your walls spasmed happily, and you bounced back to meet the raging of his wild hips, “take your breath away and this pussy of yours only gets tighter, wetter,” he was spitting against your earlobe, as if he were disgusted that you could be so shameless, “you’re one brazen cunt.” unfortunately for him, you could hear the depravity in his voice: he liked it. a lot.

your brows knit together; you feel a low and searing anger in your gut; you wanted to punch him. you would’ve loved to see his pearly white teeth scattered on the floor at your feet, and watch him spit up his own blood. men didn’t talk to you like that and get away with it.

but, Diego did. and you hated him for it.

you make sure he knows it, too, by the way you claw at his gloves, desperate to draw blood from his vulnerable flesh underneath. but the insult on his lips sends violent waves of unbridled lust over you, and instead of fighting, you find yourself pushing back into him harder— wanting his thick cock deeper in your belly, until he hits your limit and your eyes cross. your back twisted into the tautest S arch he could force. you mewl into his hand as he stills there, sank as deep as he could go, just to make you feel it.

attempting to suck in a breath, you’re sorely reminded by the burning in your lungs that he was withholding breathing rights. you stomp one foot, aiming for his toes but you miss, slurring a plea to breathe, but he only grunts and clamps his fist tighter around your face. “Stay put,” he barks, pressing his body against your back just as you start to thrash and pumps hard, slow, and deep. over and over. robbing you of any potential thought attempting to manifest. “I’m about to fucking cum.” you buck, wild and desperate for a single gulp of oxygen, but his vice is too tight, and he wasn’t letting go.

your nails, like razors, manage to dig through his gloves and nick his wrist, then he groans and uses his other hand to pry yours off, pushing it between your slick thighs instead, “Stop being so bloody dramatic, I’ll let you breathe when you make me cum,” he demands, hips pistoning harder— faster, the rhythm making your head spin, “now rub. Rub your greedy little cunt, make her milk me…” he trails off into a strangled moan as he presses your fingers on your button and rubs fiercely, your walls clench his cock, trapping him inside, and his head drops back. you couldn’t be angry, it felt too good. so, you submit, and rub in tandem with the pressure his strength can apply, and before long, you’re melting against the wall, moaning breathless and needy, gurgling for him with your eyes rolling back. “Y—yes, oh, fuck yes…!” Diego’s moans were beautiful and sinful, and roughness of the leather scraping your face and cunt inches you closer to your own release, whether he cares about your pleasure or not.

he doesn’t.

when Diego loses his composure, he all but shakes you like a rag doll, sliding you up and down his length, your breasts jiggling out of the neckline of your sundress, the sleeve slid down one arm. he wasn’t slowing down, he wasn’t stopping, and your body was heating up.

for a moment, you thought he might — for the first time, ever — cum inside you, and you welcomed the proposition of feeling his warmth, but those dreams are dashed when he shoves you off of him and you lean into the wall he’s forced you against. your knees tremble, the sudden hollowed feeling combining with your soiled orgasm to create a thunderstorm in your belly when he erupts, splattering his release on the wooden floor between your feet, and you close your eyes, pursing your recently liberated lips to keep them from puckering into a pout— childishly jealous of the floorboards.

after that, Diego doesn’t speak. tucking his twitching cock that still smells like you into his trousers, then adjusting his shirt, and eventually his gloves, he simply clears his throat and glances in the mirror hanging askew on the wall.

you’ve managed to twirl around, resting your back against the wall, chest heaving and knees turned inwards, and you breathe, ragged, looking up at him. “Is that all you wanted?”

Diego doesn’t even look at you. what a punch in the gut. “At least until I win,” he mumbles, distracted as he gawks at himself, before casting the laziest glance at you, and reaches down for the saddlebag on the floor by the table. “Save that bratty mouth for me and I’ll fuck it stupid once I get back.”

“What about what I want?”

he’s turned away from you now, and he sighs, obviously inconvenienced. “Cock isn’t enough?”

your eyes narrow and you take a forward step. it isn’t the steadiest, but you try to stomp your feet. you’d confided in Diego about your hatred for your grandmother already, and seeing as though he’d married her a couple of months prior and avoided her like the plague, you assumed he shared your sentiments. but your desire to hurry her into the next lifetime had been met with serious disdain. after all, you were in her will and he wasn’t. she was much more useful to him alive. but you thought you could change his mind. split the money with him, make it worth his while. “You could do it right now, you know…” you mumble, glancing at the staircase, “she’s upstairs, sleeping, all you’d have to do is put the pillow over—“

Diego casts you a cold glare over his shoulder, “Drop it. Now.”

you blink, and frown, as if you’ve just been told no by your father because the barbie doll you wanted was too expensive. then, you puff up, furrowing your brows, huffing. “Well if you’re not man enough, I’ll do it myself. I’ll just wait until you’re gone and I’ll—“

a gasp claws its way passed your lips as Diego’s leather-clad fist wraps around your neck, and with one step, and then another, he’s pinned you against the wall you were pressed against only moments before. only this time, you’re much more afraid, because the fire in his ocean eyes tells you that you’re fucked.

“Listen to me very carefully, princess.” he hisses, lips hovering inches from yours. but, for the first time, you don’t want to kiss them. you’re terrified they’re dripping with acid. “I’ve been generous with you, haven’t I? I let you be my pretty, little fucktoy because you’ve got a nice, wet cunt and a cocksucker’s pout. But let me be clear: anyone who would meddle with my money is an enemy, no matter how fuckable they are.” Diego tilts his head, voice softening as his thumb creeps up to jab at your trembling lower lip, manipulation oozing into his husky tone, “You don’t want to be my enemy, do you?” you tremble, eyes wide, and shake your head. all of your superiority was obviously bravado, because you’re trying to dissipate against the wall, and escape his grasp. “Hm?” he urges, pressing the pad against your tier, “Speak, whore.”

“I… don’t want to be your enemy, Diego.”

“Do you want to continue being my little fucktoy?” you nod, but his brow quirks, “Speak.” he repeats. “Say it.”

your cheeks are on fire, but you worry he might tighten the grip on your neck if you don’t ( or worse ), so you stammer, “I— want to be your fucktoy.”

“Good.” he mumbles, satisfied, and his lips graze against yours, “My cash cow better still breathe when I get back or you’ll join her six feet below. Are we clear?” your heartbeat thunders, but you nod, and thankfully, that’s good enough for him. your shaky hands grip the skirt of your dress to keep from vibrating at your sides and you were breathing heavily against his smirking lips. his eyes coruscate as he takes in your frightened expression, “I want you to pet your pretty pussy every night while I’m gone, think about my cock in every, tight hole of yours. Keep that cunt wet and that mouth shut for me like a proper toy should.”

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assbutt-writes · 3 months

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All I Want

Pairing - Gregory House/James Wilson

Word Count - 3,241

Fic below break

It had been eleven years. Eleven years had passed since House had bailed him out of jail, and James Wilson was completely screwed. To be honest, he probably should’ve known that when his heart felt like it stopped when the person who confronted House on the street called them closet cases, should’ve know it when felt sick to his stomach with what he had thought was worry when Stacy came back, should’ve know it when he nearly screamed with frustration when he heard that House and Stacy had kissed. Now that he did know it, though, he didn’t know what he was going to do.

He’d never been good at this sort of thing, having to act casual around someone who held your entire heart in the palm of their hand without knowing. He knew that, even in the one-in-a-million chance that House did like him back, there was no telling what Cuddy would do, and he didn’t know if he would be willing to take that risk, at least not for House. Getting himself fired was one thing, but getting House fired? Wilson didn’t think he would be able to live with himself if that happened. But he did know one thing. He was not going to let Stacy fuck House up again. So, here he was, walking toward her office, seething as he burst through the door.

“What the hell did you do? Were you really just that cold and lonely?” he said, and Stacy sighed.

“Of course he told you, he’s an 8-year-old boy,” she said flippantly, and fuck. Didn’t she know how much her leaving had screwed up House? He was already so fucking vulnerable, and to have her leave… God, he was scared to find out how much that would break him.

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed him!” he said forcefully, and Stacy looked up at him, searching his face.

“Why are you so worked up about this?” she said, a confused look on her face. He knew that he couldn’t tell her the real reason, so he quickly thought of anything to say.

“Because you’re married,” he said.

“Not to you,” she said dismissively, “This is none of your business.”

“The last time you left, I was the one left picking up the pieces! I saw firsthand how much that shit affected him, and I won’t- I can’t let that happen to him again,” Wilson said, frustration starting to build. He managed to hold himself back from shouting the words at her, but only barely.

“Oh, right, he cried himself to sleep every night. That so sounds like him,” Stacy said, voice dripping with sarcasm, and, God, he wanted to scream.

“He’s been pining for 5 years!” Wilson said, voice cracking as frustration started to turn into white-hot anger and he had to force his voice to remain steady.

“You’re being dramatic,” she said, and he could’ve sworn he heard a faint laugh in her voice.

“No, actually, I’m underplaying. This is me being restrained,” he said, trying to keep the boiling anger below the surface. Something seemed to click for Stacy, and she sat back with a look of realization.

“It was just one kiss,” she said, obviously trying to make her voice reassuring, but, God, that only made it worse.

“Are you being intentionally thick? This wasn’t just some one-night stand. You can’t just toy with him,” Wilson said, his anger turning more and more intense and all-consuming by the second.

“I’m not. If anything, he’s probably toying with me,” she said, voice softer and more sad than anything. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Oh,” Wilson said, his anger too thick for him to process her words. Once he realized what she said, though, he felt like he had just been punched in the gut, and his thoughts started running as fast as the horses at those races House always went to. “Oh.”

He shakily stood up and moved to the door, feeling like there were cotton balls in his brain and a haze over the entire world, everything feeling like he was watching it happen rather than actually doing it. He heard Stacy call his name, and he felt himself turn back around to face her.

“I’m sorry,” Stacy said, and for a second, Wilson froze. She couldn’t know, could she? “I never meant to hurt him. I guess I just thought that him seeing me would make things worse, so I just…”

“It’s okay,” Wilson said, feeling like his entire world was crashing down around him. He shakily left the room, feeling himself go to his office and lock the door, a million thoughts and emotions all swirling around in his head.

This was it. House and Stacy would get back together, and either things would work out and he would be forced to watch the man he loved be with someone else, or they wouldn’t, and he would have to watch as the hurt of it broke House into a million pieces, Wilson forced to watch without being able to do anything to help. He laid his head down on the desk, and started to cry.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been there when he heard the door to his balcony open. He looked up, trying to blink the tears from his eyes as he focused on the blurry figure of House, standing in the doorway, his face colored with a mixture of confusion and concern. The expression was gone as soon as it appeared, though, replaced with a carefully blank expression.

“Let me guess, you’ve just now realized that you’re hopelessly in love with me and are crying in your locked room like a 14-year-old girl?” House said sarcastically, and, God, that stung. He knew that it was just House being House and trying to lighten his mood with a joke, but the fact that he was right felt like a punch to the gut.

He forced out a watery laugh, though, playing it off as if it was just another joke. “Yeah, you wish.”

An expression of wry self-loathing crossed over House’s face, the smirk melting into a more self-deprecating one, but when Wilson moved to speak up, the expression was gone again, replaced with that damn smug smirk.

“Then why are you crying in your office with the door locked like a 14-year-old girl?” House asked, ever the prying bastard.

“Look, House, I’m fine. Why did you come here in the first place? It must’ve been important if you decided to break in through the balcony,” Wilson said, trying to change the subject.

“In my defense, I knocked at least 5 times before I decided to use the balcony,” House said indignantly. Wilson rolled his eyes, and he sighed. “Cameron, Chase, and Foreman are going to go out to dinner and they invited me, but I really, really don’t want to have to go alone. Wanna come?”

Wilson let out a little laugh at that as he nodded his head.

“Yeah, sure. What time?” Wilson said, and House sighed in relief.

“They were saying 5, and I think they were going to go to Olive Garden” House said, and Wilson smiled.

“I’ll be there,” Wilson said, feeling a soft smile appear on his face.

**********************************

By the time 5:00 came, Wilson had managed to pull himself together so he didn’t look like a complete wreck. His eyes were still red from all the crying and his head still felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, but he didn’t feel like he would burst into tears when he saw House, so at least there was that. He heard a knock on his door, and he stood up shakily, running a hand through his hair as he walked to the door. The person knocked again, and Wilson let out a little laugh.

“One second, House,” he said, a little smile crossing his face.

“Not House,” he heard the person say, and he could feel the smile disappear as his blood ran cold when he recognized that voice. “It’s Stacy. Look, Wilson, could you please open this door? I need to talk to you.”

Heart pounding a mile a minute, Wilson opened the door, thoughts racing almost as fast as they were when he left her office. Why was she here? She couldn’t know, right? “Stacy? What’s wrong?”

She looked at him with a weak smile on her face, her eyes obviously red from crying. “I just want to let you know that I just put in my letter of resignation, so you won’t have to worry about me hurting Greg.”

“What? Hold on, back up a bit. You’re quitting?” Wilson said, confusion replacing the fear he had been feeling.

“Yeah. I don’t think that what I’m doing here is helping. I wanted Greg to hear about it from you, though. I think that if anyone here would know how to make it not hurt for him, it would be you,” she said, a sad smile on her face. “I can tell you both really care for each other.”

“So I was right. You were just toying with him. Stacy, we both know how much you leaving hurt him last time. You can’t honestly expect me to be okay with you doing it all over again,” he said, the same white-hot anger from earlier coming back full-force.

“Somehow, I don’t think it’s going to be quite so bad this time. Just… Tell him that I’m sorry, and that it’s you. He’ll know what that means,” she said, and when he didn’t respond, she nodded half-heartedly and turned to leave. He stood in the doorway, his heart pounding and face flushed with anger as he watched Stacy walk away and House turn the corner, coming toward his office.

“Wilson! Wow, based on how red your face is, you’re either really pissed off, or you just had some of the best sex of your life. Personally, I’m hoping it’s the latter. I don’t really want to deal with a pissed-off Wilson right now. You get too cranky,” House joked, and Wilson let out a little laugh.

“You ready to go?” he said, and House nodded.

They started to walk down the hallway, the flush on Wilson’s face never fading, although he was pretty sure it wasn’t from anger anymore. Once they got to the parking lot, House started walking toward his motorcycle, and when Wilson started walking toward his car, House called him over.

“Get on,” House said simply, and Wilson shook his head. He didn’t think his heart could handle having to sit pressed up against House with his arms around the older man’s waist. “Oh, don’t be an idiot. This’ll be quicker.”

Wilson sighed and got on the motorcycle, hesitantly laying his arms around House’s waist. House let out a noise of annoyance and pulled Wilson’s arms tighter, which made the flush on Wilson’s cheeks get even darker. House started the motorcycle and drove off, and the entire time they were on the road, Wilson was hyper-aware of how close he was to House, how his chest was pressed up against House’s back, how his arms were hugged tight around the other man’s waist, how his hips were pressed up against-

Wilson mentally slapped himself. That train of thought was not helping, so he tried to think of anything but that, mind starting to wander over to what Stacy had said and how he was supposed to tell House. He eventually decided that he would pull House aside after dinner and gently tell him that Stacy was leaving, and then he would hope that Stacy was right and it wouldn’t mess him up as much as it did last time.

Once they got there and House parked the motorcycle, Wilson shakily got off of it, his face bright red. He took a second to catch his breath as House got his cane, and then the two of them walked inside, meeting up with Cameron, Foreman, and Chase.

The dinner passed by extremely quickly, Wilson not meeting House’s eyes for most of it. He had to excuse himself from the table to go to the restroom to try to get his breathing under control. The combination of the news he was carrying and his crush (God, that sounded so childish) on House made him feel like he was going to be sick. He looked in the mirror and saw that his face and the tips of his ears were still slightly flushed, and he splashed some water on his face to try and cool down. He was so focused on calming down that he didn’t hear House come up behind him, only realizing that the older man was behind him when he looked in the mirror again and saw him, which made him nearly jump out of his skin.

“Jesus, House!” Wilson said, trying to calm his racing heart.

“What’s going on? You’ve been in here for a while. Everyone else’s almost ready to go,” House said, a note of concern in his voice, and Wilson could feel his heart sink. It was almost time to tell him, and he was really dreading that.

“I’m just not feeling well. I’ll be fine,” Wilson said, knowing that he most definitely would not be fine after tonight. Neither of them would be.

“You sure, Wilson? You’re looking a little red-” House started, and Wilson could feel the moment when all of the emotions he had been holding in boiled over.

“I said I’m fine, House,” Wilson snapped, and he could see House shrink back slightly. Shit. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s okay,” House said, an almost gentle expression coloring his face. “Come on, let’s go.”

Wilson followed him out the door, heart pounding. He knew he needed to tell House about Stacy, so when they got out of the door, he pulled House to the side, the other man looking at him confusedly. House looked like he was going to make a joke, but when he saw the expression on Wilson’s face, he started to look nervous as well.

“Wilson? What’s going on?” House asked cautiously. The younger man took a deep breath, and started to tell House about Stacy.

“It’s Stacy. She said that she didn’t think what she was doing here was helping, so she’s resigning. She said that she’s sorry and to tell you that ‘it’s me’, and that you would know what that means. I tried to talk her out of leaving, I swear,” Wilson rambled, tripping over his words. House looked down at Wilson, an expression on his face that looked like a mixture of disbelief and awe, his mouth agape in shock.

“Wait, hold on, are you sure?” House asked. “Wilson, are you absolutely sure that’s what she said?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” Wilson said gravely.

“No, no, not the bit about her leaving,” House said dismissively, eyes raking over Wilson’s face as if he was searching for something. “The ‘it’s you’ bit.”

“Yeah,” Wilson said, utterly confused. A million expressions crossed House’s face before it settled on one of relief and- wait, was that happiness?

“Really?” House said, and Wilson was extremely confused now. Not that he wasn’t completely relieved that House was taking the news well, but why was House fixated on that one bit?

“House? What’s going on?” Wilson asked cautiously.

“Really, this whole time, and I never noticed it,” House asked, letting out a little laugh.

“House? Are you okay? You’re not having some kind of psychotic break, right?” Wilson asked.

“And that joke I made earlier, God, James, I’m such a dumbass,” House said, and Wilson started to freak out a little bit. House never used his first name, at least not like that, looking at him like he was the most precious thing he had ever had the chance to see.

“House, please, can you tell me what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Wilson asked, fear lacing his voice as he turned to call out to Chase, Forman, and Cameron, to get House help.

“You idiot. I like you too,” House said, almost breathlessly.

Wilson froze. House had to have been having a psychotic break. That was the only explanation. Stacy leaving had hurt him way worse than he thought it would, and now he was breaking into a million pieces, just like Wilson had thought he would.

“House?” Wilson said slowly. “What are you saying?”

“Wilson, I’m a dumbass, not an idiot. I know what I said, and I mean it,” House said, before realizing what he just said and letting out a small laugh. “Okay, that didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean. I like you, James Wilson. I have for quite a while.”

“You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that. House-” Wilson started, voice cracking with emotion.

“Oh, come on, Wilson, I knew this was coming. After all, I was the one who left her, not the other way around. Her saying that it’s you, that’s her way of telling me that you like me back,” House said, cutting him off, and Wilson felt like his entire world was being turned upside down.

“Like you back?” he asked, voice small.

“Unless she was wrong, and I just screwed things up,” House said slowly, voice filled with dawning horror.

“No, no, wait, House, trust me, it’s not that. God, it’s definitely not that. It’s just that half an hour ago I thought, well, I don’t know what I thought. I guess I thought that everything was going to change, and I was going to lose you. Now I’m finding out that, not only was I wrong, you actually like me back, and it’s not because of a psychotic break, and now I don’t know what to-” Wilson rambled.

“Kiss me,” House cut him off, and Wilson looked up at him, seeing House looking flushed and unsure of himself. “Please.”

So Wilson did, and it was everything he thought it would be and more. House’s hands shakily came up to hold his head and pull him closer, and if he didn’t feel the electricity at every point their bodies touched, he would be convinced that this wasn’t real. There was no possible way that the sarcastic, witty, amazing man that he had grown to love all these years actually liked him back and was actually kissing him back.

He heard footsteps approach, and he tried to ignore them, tried to just focus on what was probably the best moment of his life, but then the person behind House was clearing their throat, and he reluctantly pulled away, only to be greeted by the sight of a very upset-looking Chase and Foreman and a very happy-looking Cameron who seemed to be holding two-

“Oh, come on, guys, please tell me you weren’t making bets on this,” Wilson asked, a note of fond exasperation in his voice.

Cameron smiled. “Then I won’t tell you. Come on, guys, we’re needed back at the hospital.”

Wilson sighed, before reluctantly moving away from House and walking to the motorcycle. House stood there dazed before seemingly snapping back to reality and following Wilson. This time, when they got on the motorcycle, Wilson wrapped his arms around House on his own, a small smile crossing his face as he laid his head on House’s back and House started up the motorcycle and started to drive to the hospital.

#james wilson #wilson house md #greg house #house/wilson #hilson #house md #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic

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tsumtsumrry · 11 months

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Noami 2

1.2k words, fluff, like a pinch of angst???, bestfriend!harry, kissing, short and sweet.

2/3 (three in the works)

read part one here

It was just a normal night, them laying down on the couch watching the rom coms they always watch, cuddling, Harry stealing sneaky glances, and Naomi doing the same. It was just a normal night.

“Hey dove, reckon we could have a sleepover tonight? Miss you.” Harry always used affectionate language with Naomi, Harry is just an affectionate person. A perfect candidate for a best friend. Naomi never saw the affectionate nickname and recurring soft touches he gave her as anything other than him just being the perfect, sweet guy he is.

“Hi H. Yes, please. I miss you too.”

“I’ll see you at 8, dove.” he said with a soft tone.

It happened way too fast in Harry eyes, but to Naomi it felt like it all happened in slow motion. He wishes he could see it through her eyes, because they were all he could stare into anyways.

“Mmm....missed you so much. Feel like we haven’t hung out in forever.” Harry mumbled with his face nuzzled into her neck. He had pulled her into a tight, warm hug as soon as she let him in. He felt like it’s been too long since he held her, and he hadn’t the slightest idea why he felt like such a huge part of him was missing when she wasn’t with him.

“Missed you too ya’ big dummy. Get on the couch. I’m making popcorn.”

“Kettle corn, please.”

“Do you expect any less, H?”

“Not at all, dove. Could never expect less from you.” he says with a elated smile on his face. He’s only been here for less than fifteen minutes and he already feels like he’s on cloud nine.

“Anything in particular you wanna watch? Just got some new illegal movies downloaded” he says in a comical convincing tone, wiggling his eyebrows just for the added effect.

“I’ll watch anything if it’s with you.” she said dramatically, putting her hand over her forehead to feign drama.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“How many bags? Two or one?”

One. It was one look on her serene, beautifully featured face concentrated on the movie they were watching together that caused Harry to realize what he was feeling. One look that opened the floodgates to all the emotions and love he was subconsciously suppressing all this time. It felt like he was sucker-punched in the gut with everything at once, his eyes finally opened up to what was right in front of him, the masterpiece right in front of him.

Naomi’s face was pinched up cutely as she was extremely focused on the movie, a distinct crease between her eyebrows at the characters conflicts and conquests of love, wishing she could experience some of that.

“Omie.” Harry breathed. He was in a sort of dream-like state, he really wasn’t thinking about what he was saying or doing, he was just letting his heart guide him.

Naomi turned quickly to face Harry with a confused expression on her face. She quickly noticed their faces were way closer together than they had been before.

“H?”

“I really want to kiss you right now. Would you let me, please?” Their hearts are racing, probably going at the same speed. Harry’s mind is going crazy right now, questioning what the fuck he’s doing, but he doesn’t care. He wants this, and he thinks there's a good chance Naomi might want it too. Either way, it’s too late to backtrack.

Naomi is nothing if not shocked. Of course she loved Harry, and of course she thought that those feelings ―deep down― might be something more, but she brushed it off due to the sole thought that Harry couldn’t possibly feel that way for her.

They’ve been friends for as long as she can remember and Harry’s never really shown her any signs that he could possibly feel this way. Of course some of the lingering stares raised suspicion, but Harry looks at everyone like they’ve hung the moon and the stars. Maybe it was the soft touches and loving caresses, but Harry definitely loved Naomi as a friend, and touch was his love language.

“You wanna kiss me?” Naomi asks in a whisper, yet Harry can still hear the disbelief in her tone and see it in her eyes, the eyes he can’t seem to escape.

Harry nods, although he’s so stuck in his trance that he doesn’t even realize he’s barely moving his head, “please.”

“Please tell me you aren’t putting on The Notebook right now. I will punch you in the face, Harry.”

Naomi was still in the kitchen waiting for the popcorn while Harry was sat down on the couch, clicking the letters on the screen to search up the Notebook. He had a mischievous smirk on his face. Partly because it was funny that she knew exactly what Harry would do when he was left to his own devices, and partly because even though it’s not a lie that Naomi is extremely tired of the movie, he knows she secretly loves it.

“What do you want to watch then? Thought you wanted to watch ‘anything with me’” he says back, using her own words against her, an annoyingly attractive smirk still set on his face.

“That―” Harry interrupts her with a tut, “it―” another interruption, “you―”

“Tha’s what I thought, dove.”

Naomi leans forward, urging Harry to meet her halfway, and when their lips meet in a kiss, Harry swears it paralyzes him. Her lips are so soft and her kiss is so passionate, he swears at that moment that kissing her is something he will never be able to give up.

Naomi returns the kiss just as intensely as him, his hand is set firmly on her waist, squeezing it gently and affectionately while her hand shoots up to his neck, quickly tangling her hands in the curls at the bottom of it.

It’s heaven for Harry, his mind is racing again, filled with thoughts wondering why he’s deprived himself of this so long, how wonderful this feels, how wonderful she feels.

Without really thinking, Harry makes a move to deepen the kiss, gently nudging her to lay down. He catches himself though, backing off quickly and regretfully parting from that amazing kiss. “Sorry, I’m sorry. Wasn’t,” he clears his throat and squeezes his eyes shut briefly, “wasn’t thinking.”

When the kiss is broken, Noami sits back with a sharp intake of breath, subconsciously biting her bottom lip in nervousness and thought.

Harry’s just staring at his fingers, fidgeting with his rings. He really doesn’t know what to do right now. He just kissed her and she isn’t saying anything.

Why isn’t she saying anything?

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” Harry mumbles. He finds himself talking to her extremely formal like, and it breaks both of their hearts simultaneously. They’ve never talked to each other with forced politeness, like they were strangers.

“No―no. I’m just...just caught off guard is all…” Naomi responds and Harry nods slowly.

“Should I go? I’m―”

“No! Stay, Harry. It’s fine. Stay.” Naomi rushes out, ending with her voice softening. Harry nods and looks up at her and as soon as he does, he wants to wince.

He can see that when she said “it’s fine” she didn’t really mean it, she was just trying to make it less awkward and painful for him. He knows that.

Harry can’t lie and say he doesn’t feel a bit rejected, yes, she gave him permission, and yes, she kissed him back. But it’s almost like he can see the regret swimming in her captivating eyes and even though it’s killing him, he can’t look away.

#harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #old

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frodo-with-glasses · 1 year

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Well, well... let's start a new ask game with something PAINFUL! https://www.tumblr.com/frodo-with-glasses/699931081844162562/oh-no-details-are-under-the-cut-not-samfro No. 4, 15, 16 and 20, if that's not too much

Ohoho, you were always the one for angst, weren’t you, Maggie? ;-) Nice choice!

(Read the whole comic here!)

4. What part of this piece was the most difficult to draw?

Definitely Frodo’s pose in the first panel. I wanted to create this feeling that Frodo was towering over Sam—sort of hunched over him with this greedy, demanding, frightening presence—but it was really difficult to get that across and also keep him, ahem, decent. I ended up taking a lot of reference photos of myself in the mirror to try to get it right.

A close second is the pose where Frodo is snatching the Ring from Sam. I’m still not 100% happy with that one, but it works for what it is.

15. If you drew in color, what color would [x] be?

You didn’t specify which part of the drawing you’re curious about here, so I guess I’ll just describe the whole thing: Sam’s hair and vest are brown, his trousers tan, his cloak grey, and his skin slightly tanner than Frodo’s; Frodo’s hair is of course blonde with brown roots, but rather dirtied up at the moment, and his skin would be pale except for the red whiplash on his back and the greenish wound on his neck. The Ring, of course, is gold and shiny, and its chain is grey.

But since we’re in the Tower, and it’s dark, and the only light is the lantern overhead, we might actually get a color scheme that looks very similar to the one in Scarlet; all harsh blacks and reds. Very dramatic. Very bright red glint on the Ring when Frodo snatches it. And Frodo’s eyes might possibly look bloodshot in the last two panels.

16. If there is a song or quote associated with this drawing, why did you choose that song/quote?

The only quote associated with this drawing is its caption, “oh no”. I chose that caption because…well, I feel it’s a proper response. X-D Oftentimes I use the caption to add a second joke or something, but with the dramatic moments, I try to be a bit more frugal with my words so as not to undercut the emotions of the scene.

Now, if you’re trying to ask why I chose to draw this scene in particular—well. Because pain, that’s why. >:-D

20. Quick! Random fun fact!

Okay so the reason this took me so long to answer is because I couldn’t think of a fun fact to put here—but finally, I think I’ve got something!

In many other comics, I use nice neat squares and rectangles as the panel shapes. It’s just easy to work with. Here, however, the comic is structured as four large triangles, with tinier trapezoids in sort of a pyramid shape within the second big triangle.

This definitely made the comic a huge pain to plan (lol), but it serves a purpose: the slanted lines and irregular shapes makes everything feel “off-kilter”, slightly “wrong”, a reflection of how Frodo isn’t quite himself in this moment because of the Ring (and in a way, the same is true for Sam!). Everything from the shape and size of the panels to the way they’re battling for real estate on the page reflects the confusion and conflict of this moment.

I especially like the contrast between Sam’s quiet, tiny, “I could share it with you, maybe?” versus the huge visual BANG! of Frodo tearing the Ring away from him in that enormous panel. It’s like a sucker-punch in the gut, which is exactly how I imagine it would’ve felt for Sam >:-3

ARTIST COMMENTARY ASK GAME!

#frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #my art #my writing #artist commentary ask game

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diabolikpersonals · 2 years

Note

What do you think it's like when Shu and Yuma argue? Like do they throw stuff or argue pretty peacefully? And who is usually the first one to apologize?

If you want to see Shu and Yuma's conflict resolution skills in action (post-character development and stuff, obviously they're different back in MB) then I recommend Yuma's LE route! (spoilers under the cut)

When it comes to Yuma, Shu has a gut response that's like, "I have to avoid him. He has every right to hate me and I shouldn't be part of his life anymore, I only cause bad things to happen to him. So I should avoid him." And that's something that he's, like, drilled into his head for a long time so it doesn't go away so easily, even when Shu and Yuma get closer. So that's not great! It means that Shu's not gonna be yelling and throwing stuff in an argument with him, but for Yuma, Shu leaving the situation and going full hermit mode is probably worse. Like, "Why does this guy avoid every problem?? I want him to stick around and work with me, this is pissing me off!!"

I want to give Yuma some credit, because he's capable of being really mature and understanding even when he's the one who was wronged in a situation. However, he does get really mad first. He yells, curses, threatens to punch Shu, etc. And then after that, once he gives himself some time to calm down, he's capable of being mature and understanding xD To be honest, Shu can take yelling and threats of violence. I mean, he kinda thinks he deserves it. (which is unhealthy but this post is already too long so lets unpack this another time)

As for who apologizes first, that depends on what your definition of an apology is, I think. Shu is really bad at talking about his feelings, but he's quick to apologize through his actions. Verbally, I think Yuma would grumble out an apology first and then do a sort of okay job of explaining what's wrong. (Of course, if Yui is there, she'll make this whole process a hundred times easier.)

So, the example from Yuma's LE route: Yuma meets his old friend Lucks who was turned into a ghoul (actually it was just a fake Lucks that Kino and Yuuri created but Yuma doesn't know that so to understand how he feels, just think of it as Lucks) and Lucks attacks Shu. Shu has no idea who this guy is, he thinks Lucks is just some random ghoul, so he defends himself and kills Lucks. Yuma blows up, like "Do you know who you just killed???? I'm gonna beat the shit out of you!!!" and Shu's like "????? okay, I mean, if you want, go ahead...?"

When Shu figures out what happens later, he thinks that he's done something terrible, and Yuma's right to be angry with him. Killing basically the only person left from his childhood...That's a huge deal. So Shu's very apologetic, although apologizing to Yuma's face is really tough (again Shu's strategy is Avoid Avoid Avoid) so Shu tries to make things up to him in his actions, by trying his best to be the responsible leader Yuma wants him to be.

Yuma's attitude about the whole thing really shocked me in how level-headed it was. He's like, "Yeah I'm devastated about this whole thing, but Shu really didn't know who Lucks was, and he was just defending himself. He didn't mean to kill someone important to me. So it's not his fault. I just think we need some time away from each other after all that." (I was like, dude???? hell yeah????? that's practically the best possible reaction you couldve had omg)

There's also a big dramatic scene in the vampire ending where Shu asks Yui to tell Yuma he's sorry, stabs himself, and says that he's doing it to atone for everything he's done to Yuma. Self-sacrifice, yay! Shu is so good at that! (Of course, Shu isn't going to stab himself over every argument they have, lol. There was a lot more going on in the route. But it's a good example of how deep Shu's "I've done terrible things to Yuma and I need to punish myself to make it up to him" thing goes.)

#text #hope that made sense lol and tHANK YOU for asking about shu n yuma. I love them dearly

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super-ion · 8 months

Text

Ion & Emily

How it All Started: chapter 2.5

New Friends

I flip the big switch and it makes a satisfying clunk. The lights come on in stages very dramatically, bringing light to the cavernous space.

Holy shit! This is all mine, my very own secret evil lair.

After my success with the bank and Jackass Jackrabbit, I realized I needed a space that wasn't the unused spare room in my condo. So what does an aspiring supervillain do when they need a lair? They just go down to the waterfront and lease an abandoned warehouse with a big secret basement. There's like a whole frickin' grey market industry for that sort of thing. And it's all allowed, because superheros gotta fight somebody, right?

The lights finish coming on and…

It's empty.

I mean, no shit, it's empty. They cleared it out after the last guy got busted for human trafficking. But it's like… bad empty?

Maybe a quarter of the lights are broken, either flickering badly or not working at all. The space is huge and dingy and there's loose trash scattered everywhere. It'll take forever to get everything set up.

That old familiar one two punch of anxiety and depression hits me in the gut.

What the hell am I doing??

I don't know the first thing about being a supervillain? Why on earth did I think I could do this?

My ruminations are mercifully cut short by a knock on the door.

I stand there in shock for a moment. I thought this lair was supposed to be secret. Why would somebody be knocking on the door.

I cautiously return to the antechamber and climb the stairs to the main warehouse area. I open the door and… and…

Now, I'm not a short girl. I'm 6'2". It can be dysphoria inducing, but for the most part I've made peace with it. Worry about the things you can change etc etc. Also, now that I'm officially supervillaining, I should totally embrace it.

Sorry, got a little off topic there. The point is, I'm tall by most standards. This guy makes me feel short. And on top of being 7 foot something he's built like a tank.

He's incongruously holding a tray of cookies that's completely dwarfed by his hand.

He looks familiar. Why does he look familiar?

"Can I… help you?" I ask, slipping a little into my meek Jen persona.

He extends a hand.

"I'm Arturo," he says in a rumbly voice. He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm in the warehouse next door. I take it you're my new neighbor?"

"I… uh… yeah."

Neighbor? Why would anybody…?

Wait, why am I leasing an abandoned warehouse? He must be…

Oh… my… god…

He's Arachnid. I'm neighbors with freakin' Arachnid.

He watches the realization play out on my face with sly satisfaction.

"Oh! I… wow…" I reply a little stupidly. What the hell am I supposed to say to a fellow supervillain who happens to be my neighbor??

"I'm Jen," I say.

I extend a hand, realize realize it's sweaty, wipe said hand on my pants, cringe as I realize I just did that in front of one of my inspirations, and extend it again.

He takes it graciously.

"So, you new in town? Or just new to the business?"

"Uh… second one," I reply. "Did the whole… industrial accident thing and got tech powers. Figured I'd give… uh… this a try."

Recognition dawns on his face.

"Oh damn! You're the girl from the Jackrabbit video!"

I flush with embarrassment.

"Yeah… that's me."

The video had 137k views before it got taken down.

He opens his mouth to respond, but is interrupted by a faint sort of tearing shriek. A hole just kinda opens up in the air and there's a sulfurous ozone smell.

A woman steps out and I forget to breathe. I'm standing there like an idiot with my mouth hanging open and my eyes bugging out.

She's wearing street clothes: jeans, t-shirt and cardigan. Not her iconic costume, but there's absolutely no doubt in my mind that I'm standing in the presence of Lady Lacuna.

Don't get me wrong, meeting Arachnid is cool… but this is a whole other level. I had Princess Portal action figures when I was twelve. I still have Lady Lacuna figures on a shelf in my bedroom right now. I've written fanfiction about her. Hell, I've been a fangirl since before I even figured out I was a girl.

"Hey Art!" she says cheerfully. "Got the repairs done on the pauldron, should be better than new."

She hands a brown paper bag to Arachnid and seems to notice me for the first time.

"Oh!" she says. "New neighbor?

I'm still staring in awe.

"Yeah," Arachnid replied. "New girl on the block."

"Oh! You're the one who posted that video! Ion, right?"

"Y-yeah," I reply.

"God, that was fan-fucking-tastic how you took Jackrabbit down. Nice to see that prick get taken down a peg. I'm Sarah!"

My brain is still short circuiting.

"Uh… Jen," I reply. "I'm… I'm a huge fan… I'm sorry about your dad."

She cocks her head in confusion.

"Oh!" she says after a moment. "Oh no, he's very much alive. Just threw his back out one too many times and decided to retire. He teaches geology at the community college now."

"Oh…" I reply. "Good…"

"You wanna meet him?" she asks and whips out her phone.

Do… I want to meet… Doctor Magma?

"What??" I ask breathlessly.

"Got any dinner plans?"

I shake my head, still struggling to comprehend what's going on.

"Awesome!" she replies. "Art?"

"I would never pass up your father's cooking. I'll bring the wine."

She flashes a thumbs up and brings her phone to her ear.

"Hey Dad? Yeah… well, how do you feel about dinner for four? Got a new coworker who's a big fan of your work."

***

You ever meet your heroes and they're just like... normal people? Granted, they're the sort of people who would trigger a volcanic eruption and/or release mutant spiders on the populace downtown, which is fucking awesome... Okay, maybe they're not normal at all, but they are really cool.

We're just like around the table, drinking wine after dinner.

(Holy. Shit. Doctor Magma can cook. Note to self: get cooking tips from Doctor Magma)

Doctor Magma himself is telling us about the time he and Cobalt Blade (who sounds like a huge asshole) got caught in a shrink ray together and had to team up.

They've all done this before, just B-list supervillains hanging out, having a good time. I just met these people two hours ago, and I feel like I belong here. I've lived my entire life never really feeling like I belong, hell, I haven't spoken to my family in like 6 years. But here, with these villains-

"Okay, okay," Doctor Magma says, after wrapping up his story. "The real reason we're here is to welcome Ion to the family. May she have a long and nefarious career!"

Oh god, he said the quiet part out loud. I think I'm going to cry.

They all raise their glasses to me.

Yeah, I'm crying now.

"Dad, I think you broke her," Lady Lacuna says.

"Sorry," I mumble. "This is… a lot. I just met you… and you're all so nice. And…"

"We all look out for each other," Doctor Magma says.

"Do you have a tailor?" Arachnid asks. "It's cool if you want to do your own thing, but a professional costumer is going to think of stuff you never will and it takes off a lot of pressure. We can hook you up with our guy if you want."

"I do super tech gadgets as a side gig!" Lady Lacuna announces. "Wait, you have tech powers, don't you?"

"I… yeah"

"Would you mind taking a look at my computer some time?"

"Here we go," Arachnid mutters with a wink in my direction. "The transdimensional vortex simulator…"

"I will have you know that simulator has taken years of my life," Lady Lacuna huffs.

"What can you do with your powers?" Doctor Magma asks.

My mouth goes dry. They're all looking at me expectantly.

"I… uh… I guess I've got a party trick I've been working on."

The thing about modern houses is they're full of tech. You've got like wifi connected fridges and coffee makers and everything. I can hear the hum of it all the time. All I need to do is reach out and…

Everything in the house starts beeping and coming to life, the TV, the stereo, the microwave, everything. I even make the lights flicker ominously.

"Okay, that's really cool," Lady Lacuna says. "We should totally do a team up some time."

#ion & emily #supervillain oc #transgender #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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lovecolibri · 9 months

Note

SaL anon here friend, ready and looking forward to being absolutely unhinged and insufferable for RWRB premier day!! I am ready for this to become my whole personality for the next 5-10 business days and block off time this weekend to read endless amounts of fanfic. Like you said, things won't always play out the way they did in the book and there are probably some scenes I'd love to see onscreen that they just won't have time for, but everyone involved looks like they're so happy and having fun, the clips we've gotten do nothing but bring me joy, and the director and the actors feel like they're so, so respectful of the source material I just can't imagine how it could go wrong at this point. So I'm busting out the popcorn and cheap champagne tonight bestie, we deserve this 🍿🍾!!

And I know you won't have time to do a song before hand, and I kind of want to watch that part of the book play out before I commit, but I absolutely have had a song in mind since I saw that still of Henry leaving a sleeping Alex at the lakehouse. And not just any song, THE SONG, my absolute beloved of SaL songs (I know you know which one). Just how perfect would that be as a Henry POV, with all its water imagery, during their sort of break up that starts with them swimming in the lake and ends during a downpour (I can hear the " I'm only honest when it rains" on repeat in my head)?? Let's see if the movie will deliver all my angsty hopes for that scene, but even if it doesn't I don't think I'll be disappointed. So cheers friend, let's do this 🥂🥂🥂!!!

I have a few hours left and I am dyyyyying to leave work and go Prepare To Be Wrecked! Also, I really need movies and shows to get it together and start utilizing more Sleeping at Last songs for their gut punch potential in sad/dramatic/tender scenes. I can't wait to talk about Neptune (and any other songs that might strike a chord), and flail about something FUN and FUNNY, that doesn't shy away from the love story. I am having a lot of stress today (lots of "is this hotel booking site sketchy or is my bank just being difficult again" stress which is making concert preparations less than fun and joyful) so this is exactly what I need! And as someone who loves love stories, I am READY to be a blushing, giggling mess for 2 hours about these two.

Cheers bestie, I can't wait to talk to you in 3-5 business days when everyone has finally stopped hitting their post limits every day with RWRB gifset reblogs!

#my sweet nonnie friends #sleeping at last anon #rwrb #let's goooooo!#i'm going home and BOOKING through my workout so i can settle in and get comfortable with some popcorn!

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whenthepwn · 2 years

Note

“you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid” + asherjoan

idiots to lovers romantic starters, estrelando asher & joan.

Since childhood, Asher knew that there comes a moment in life when there are very few things that you are able to enjoy. Maybe because he comes from a long lineage of bitter people, all grumpy men and hysteric women unsatisfied with their lifes, he knew that enjoyable could, someday, mean buying a new pack of cigarettes and spending an hour without having to face your nagging wife and snotty kids. That's just how it happens in the Hwang family. No happy endings. Just a punch-in-the-guts-realistic day-to-day, with no remarkable bright sides. A true fairytale to a child.

At first, he thought he could be the different one. Trickle fate, don't become a boring adult. Get a tattoo and a hot wife. A whole new reputation in college, three different tattoo artists and a huge list of one night stands after, he was almost there. Enjoyable meant being an acclaimed writer with a great apartment and a hot fiancé, having spontaneous sex and quick getaways all the time. While his friends had gotten children and lost hair and their will to exist, life was flourishing for Asher. He'd write another book and maybe him and Sofia would move, live like the pretentious people they were, in some overpriced and terrible neighborhood in Spain. It didn't matter that, after seven years of relationship, he spoke barely ten phrases in Spanish. They were going to make it.

And then she left and he moved back to Yangyang, living in the same damned house he used to live in as child, buying a pack of cigarettes and thinking at least I don't have a wife and kids as a solace. Yes, life sucked. But he learned that it could always suck more. He could adapt the definition of enjoyable again. Leave him a supply of cigarette packs, a coffee pot and his notebook, and then he could entertain himself for the rest of eternity without having to see a single person. The way things were, the world was probably going to end soon, anyway.

The camera expands and Joan comes on the scene, awkwardly watching him while he smokes. The thing is, if he were to be on his best and most romcom protagonist behavior for the night, he had to have his solemn and silent moment, even if part of him wants to do it. Only for their joke and bet, obviously. "Is there anything more romantic than someone feeling comfortable enough to self destruct next to you, anyway?" He watches her attentively as he always does, ignoring the implications of what he says. He isn't sure of when or how their communication went from lame jests to this, but it happened, and Asher treads over this new land carefully, waiting for the first sign of Joan's rejection. He hoped she would at least be kind enough to forget about the romantic and dramatic novels he confessed to write.

It's tough, trying to get used to having someone to answer to again. Even if it's not important. Even they don't have any sort of relationship besides reluctant neighbors. He says to himself that he can disappear or simply close the curtains and ignore her anytime he wants with no trace of remorse, but he can't bring himself to do it. In the end, he thinks about her first fifth thing in the morning, fights the urge to ask what exactly is happening in her draft. He is curious, that's it.

Curious enough to let his mind wander while she is talking, accidentally admiring her pouty lips and witty eyes for too long while telling himself that it's too late to back off now. "Wait, what did you say again?" His unusual lack of attention to her is instantly rewarded with a comeback, one that he was smart enough to appreciate, even if defeated. You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid. Something to overthink about before sleeping. "Ouch, Joanie, you always know the right thing to say. Save it for your draft." He brings his hands to his chest, doing his best to look totally entranced by her words. "Alright, let's go. I hope you are happy. I'm 90% sure that you ruined our chance of having a great moment. Meg Ryan would never say that. She'd ask for the cigarette butt and kiss my ashy lips."

#does it make sense...#𓆸⠀⠀⠀pairing⠀⠀⠀﹐⠀⠀⠀asher & joan.#𓆸⠀⠀⠀partner⠀⠀⠀﹐⠀⠀⠀suke.

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soonasiknewyou · 4 months

Text

Ive been reading Babel lately, by R.F. Kuang. And it got me thinking about language again, which im not gonna talk more about, but it got me on a train of thought about literature, and the impact it can have. I think the book thats impacted my most was Crush by Richard Siken. If that counts as a book. I know it gets quoted a lot on here, but it never really resonated with me until i could read the entire passages. Because he makes you understand the characters on such a deep level within two pages. And understand that maybe theyre not characters. Maybe theyre you, imprinted on the paper. I guess thats what it feels like to me. I cant alway relate to what he writes. But i always get it. Do you know what i mean? When you just understand something and something in your chest just aches because you sort of know what its like, even if you dont. And then that feeling gets worse when you DO know what its like. Weird thing is, i havent even finished it. The book, i mean. I have to take breaks because it just makes me so much. I dont know how to describe that feeling. I dont get sad. But maybe agonized. I guess that feels dramatic. I just feel it in my whole entire body, like someones sucker punched me in the gut and then kissed my cheek. I think a lot of the book is about self sabotaging, which resonates. So i guess maybe it feels more like someones sucker punched me in the gut, and ive kissed their knuckles afterwards. I dont know if ive ever been in love. Do crushes count? I dont think we have enough words for love. It just feels different every time. I love people. But i dont think ive been in love with any of them in the way a lot of people have. Sometimes i think im a little in love with all my friends. Like romance isnt really as restricted as people feel it is. But i dont know. I hope ill know it when i feel it, though. Like ill have some epiphany or something. I think love and religion are the same. Or, not the same, but i think its like that feeling you get like somethings there, crawling in your heart, omnipotent, devoted. And its terrifying and demanding. But its assuring and warm and safe at the same time. Sorr of like the ocean. Theres no definition to love. I just think every person feels it differently. I think i love a lot. It just gets filtered out sometimes because the romantic kind is the only one that ‘counts’. But i love all the time. I just have so much of it, everywhere, even when i have hate, too. I cant look at something and not find something there, you know?

#girlshapedcloud

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asknarashikari · 9 months

Note

Neon: Back in your place... How did you fix hypocrite Buffabutt?

Me: I have all sorts of ways... Not just sexual... but other kinds. For my dear Azuma... I push him through this door. *Shows a glimpse* This door is called "Door of Lamentation and Realization." This one makes you go through all your past til now. The room is dark, and you will not see anything for miles. You'll be walking on water. And when you awaken, metaphorically,and feel absolute remorse... the whole thing would transform the room into a clear, endless sky. Then the door would reappear again.

Neon: Huh... Your dramatics make it sound like it's that good.

Me: *plainly* It is. Not many can survive such things. Because it'll feel like days in there while only hours out here. 1 hour out here is like 5 days in there.

Win: So... what happened after he came out?

Me: He did punch me in the gut when he came out for tricking him. Then we have one heck of a bang bang, bow chika wow wow.

Azuma: It was hell in there. But I really needed that. Also... I need some time in my husband's place before coming back here. No! We're not fucking... I just need to get away from hustle and bustle of the city.

GeatsCast reactions?

Personally I don't think it'd work that way, but eh, whatever works for you.

Maybe a better writer would do the trick for canon

#kamen rider geats #michinaga azuma #ask #i-am-randomtrash00

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uboat53 · 9 months

Text

I had a revelation today about why I'm suddenly disconnected from the Marvel movies and shows that are coming out.

You see, I've been reading lot about how they've just become CGI spectacles and how it's terrible for movies, but that never bothered me. So why haven't I felt as much interest in the latest series of Marvel content, otherwise referred to as Phase 4?

I came to realize it's because they spent 22 movies building up a consistent narrative which was interesting and interconnected… and then they abandoned it.

Let me explain.

For reference, I'm an older Millennial. I grew up on Marvel stuff, X-men and Spider Man, and I was just finishing college when Iron Man (2008) came out, so I'm pretty much the prime audience for this.

Now, everything in Phases 1 through 3 of the MCU built toward Endgame, I think we can all agree that that's the case. Every solo movie, every Avengers movie, everything built one or more pieces toward what happened when Thanos snapped and then the Avengers snapped back.

Not only mechanical stuff, but there was also a build-up of trauma and experience. We saw the progression of Tony Stark's PTSD and his determination to do ANYTHING to stop what he thought was coming. We saw Steve Rogers slowly lose faith in the institutions he had once believed in. It wasn't even all trauma, though, we got to see Natasha Romanov learn to trust and James Barnes start to rebuild himself after being brainwashed.

And the snap, once it happened, was devastating. Half the population of the universe disappeared, including many of the heroes we'd been following in the various movies. Beyond the personal trauma of loss, jobs were left with no one skilled enough to do them, houses were left empty, and property was abandoned. It was clear that there was not a single person or place in the universe that wasn't dramatically affected.

Then, five years later, after everything had sort of adjusted, the Avengers snapped everyone back.

What happened then? What happened when the population suddenly doubled? When people thought lost forever, who had been grieved, came back? When people returned to find their friends and relatives had changed over the 5 years? What happened to the homes that had been left abandoned or had been taken over by other people? How did the universe suddenly feed twice as many people as had existed the day before?

Don't get me wrong, some Marvel cinema touched on some of this. We see people suddenly reappearing out of nowhere in Wandavision and the entire premise of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier revolves around a group that's angry at having what they feel is theirs taken away from them by people who have returned, but it's not the focus. Instead, we see everything jumping straight into the multiverse saga without much of a pause taken to explore the immense consequences of what the Avengers did in Endgame.

So yeah, it feels like they dropped the plot. Everything built up to Endgame and Endgame delivered a massive gut punch of a plot point, the kind that could reverberate through dozens of films, and then… nothing.

I should note that I'm not completely disconnected from the MCU, I'm still excited about Loki Season 2 and I've seen Wakanda Forever, but I'm not looking forward to the new movies or TV shows the way I did in the decade leading up to Endgame. It just doesn't feel like it's part of the same story arc anymore.

Maybe I'll get there. Maybe I'll find the new arc just as interesting as the old one, but I've figured out why I'm not there yet.

#marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #avengers endgame #movies

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hannahsmusings · 2 years

Text

Renee

*I scoff loudly as he says I was being dramatic, knowing deep down that I was but I wasn't used to Anthony arguing with me like this anymore, he usually gave into my every want and need and I was definitely more than a little spoiled from the love and affection he had been showing me over the past couple of weeks, but I was never going to admit that out loud especially to his face when I was this upset* I was laying on your couch half naked, ready for you to fuck me and you tossed me into your bedroom to hide while you tended to my brother. That's the epitome of being 'tossed aside', Anthony! *I flinch a bit when he starts raising his voice, my pout deepening as he says his life revolves around me, that feeling like a punch to the gut, feeling burdensome on top of everything else I was feeling right now, rolling my eyes as I cross my arms over my chest, being overly petulant and bratty, not able to bring myself back to reality when I was this far gone in my own head* You're the one who wanted me to explore this part of myself, I'm sorry it's been so damn time consuming for you. You can have your life back, I won't burden you with consistent sex and affection anymore. *I turn to go for the door, opening it and stepping out into the hallway, looking back at him, just so annoyed and irritated right now, this argument feeling so similar to the ones we used to have, this feeling like classic Renee and Anthony bickering* You're the frustrating one! *I don't close his door behind me, stalking across the hall, jiggling my doorknob and groaning when it's locked, turning to look at him again, knowing he had a spare key* Open my door.

_____________________________________

*throws my hands up in frustration at your illogical response, groaning and shaking my head* Really? So you'd prefer me to fuck you with your brother outside my door?! Great, I'll know for next time. *says sarcastically, you being totally ridiculous now and realising you were just looking for reasons to confirm your bias on this one, not prepared to let you and wanting you to call you out on it* *heart sinks as you take my words the wrong way, puffing out air in frustration and following you out the door into the hallway* Renee, that's not what I meant. I didn't mean it like that! You're determined to sabotage everything good to have an argument and I'm not gonna let that happen! *says in frustration before you start trying to get into your apartment, shaking my head as you demand I open it* No. I'm not gonna open your door unless you sort this out with me. You don't need to walk off in a huff. *

#renee plot

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Careless Words

Characters: Albedo, Childe, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,114

Warnings: Brief depiction of drunken character, swearing

Premise: Words are thrown around so carelessly, phrases, endearments, accusations. But when all is gone and only the words remain it can be difficult to pick up the pieces.

In which the reader and their s/o argue and make up.

Author’s Note: Ended up spending a good two hours on Albedo’s bit alone, wow I got carried away with this. Also I feel so bad for Childe, I’m sorry!

Not proofread cause I ran out of time, will do so tomorrow.

Albedo

“Do you even respect what I do?” Those words kept ringing through your ears, a bitter litany that fueled your anger just as it began to fade. Do you even respect what I do?

Of course you did, you respected him and his work very much, it was one of the first things that had drawn you to him, his inquisitiveness, his eternal questions, his determination to unlock the secrets of the world.

But really could he not do all that in his lab where all of his experiments and equipment belonged?

At first you hadn’t really paid attention, it was just a few plants after all. When you’d asked what they were for Albedo had smiled eagerly, replying that he wanted to see how different plants, especially those infused with elements, reacted to sunlight. You had just smiled then, although you were slightly worried about the mist flower freezing the ground around it. Still, it was a mundane enough experiment, and the plants looked very pretty on the windowsill. Nothing to worry about.

Well evidently that wasn’t quite the case because one experiment morphed into two morphed into five morphed into ten, until there seemed barely enough room to live among the beakers and graduated cylinders, the odd smells emanating from the various petri dishes which now scattered the coffee tables and the dressers.

It was becoming a nuisance, plain and simple. More than a few times you’d managed to almost tip something over, trying to grab a book off a shelf that was crammed with small boxes of various specimen, or almost putting a pot down on a counter covered with vials of whooper-flower nectars. You couldn’t live like this, and though you wanted to let Albedo carry on as uninhibited as possible, it couldn’t go on any longer. You were going to scream.

“Albedo, can we talk?”

“Of course.” Albedo looked up from the microscope he’d managed to cram on the coffee table. You let out a smile that quickly morphed into a grimace, making your way to the couch, careful not to bump into the table.

“Albedo, I love your passion in all that you do, but you really do have to tidy up a bit. I’m sorry I know it’s a bit of an inconvenience, but it’s just becoming a little difficult, you understand?”

“It’s only a few experiments.” Albedo replied, gaze still fixated on whatever he was observing. You felt a twinge of frustration, had he even heard you?

“This is serious Albedo. I don’t want to ruin any of your experiments, but it’s really becoming an impossible situation. We can barely cook for fear of crashing into something, and I’ve started waking up to the smell of fire flowers burning. Can’t you move one or two things into your laboratory?” You tried to keep your tone light, hoping that this time would be more successful. It was very irritating to feel like you weren’t being heard.

“I have an important experiment going on at the lab. It needs space and air. So I’m just moving everything here for the time being.”

“How long is that going to take?” You asked, once again feeling frustration rising up. He couldn’t even look up at you.

“Three weeks or so.”

“Three weeks?” You couldn’t help but let out a cry. “Albedo I’m sorry I cannot live like this for three weeks.”

“Why not.” It wasn’t even a question.

“Please look at me.” You finally said, tone dropping to one that made no attempt to hide your growing irritation. Albedo let out a curt sigh, glancing over at you with a disinterested sort of gaze. “You have to move some of this stuff out Albedo. It would be one thing if it was a week, but three? We can barely live right now, what are we supposed to do for the next three weeks?”

“I don’t know.” Albedo scowled in a dismissive tone. “I think you’re making too much of it.”

“And I think you aren’t listening. Are you even hearing what I’m saying? Even processing the situation? Or are you so focused on that microscope that you can’t see that your partner is besides themselves.”

“You seem fine to me,” Albedo’s tone continued its aloof cadence, “I don’t see why you can’t just wait three weeks. You’re being awfully demanding.”

“I…” for a moment you were speechless, feeling as if you were fighting a losing battle, why was it so much easier for Albedo so say words that meant nothing at all while you were quickly finding yourself losing your cool? “You aren’t listening to me!” You finally managed to get out, knowing by this time you were awfully close to shouting but too frustrated to care.

“And you aren’t listening to me,” Albedo’s tone finally began to inch into something a little more emotional, you weren’t sure why but it gave you a hint of satisfaction, “do you even respect what I do? Or are you too wrapped up in yourself.”

It was like getting punched in the gut.

“Fine.” You stepped away almost knocking into a dresser crammed with empty equipment. For a moment you wondered what you could say that would hurt him so much but quickly gave it up. You were too angry to think straight anyways; right now you just wanted to get out.

“Where are you going?” Albedo’s tone seemed to have shrunk back to its previous range.

You didn’t even respond, not bothering to gather anything up as you made your way to the door. Albedo called out your name once. You responded by slamming the door as hard as you could on your way out.

•

At first Albedo simply went back to his observations, trying to ignore the negative feelings that churned inside him. How dare you, he thought, how dare you take him and his work so lightly. Maybe it was good that you were getting out of the house, Albedo wasn’t sure how long he could’ve lasted until he lapsed into that horrible shrieking as well. “How embarrassing.” He murmured to himself, as if that would drown the unease. Still the fight was new and the emotions were raw. He wasn’t about to ponder the matter anytime soon.

This carefree attitude slipped a bit when you didn’t come home for dinner. Still he simply sighed and went to cook for himself. By now his anger had cooled extensively and he was beginning to feel a bitter sort of regret. Maybe he had been to harsh, though he still wasn’t ready to admit he was wrong. No, you were just being dramatic, and though he should’ve been kinder with you, backing down was absolutely not on the table for him. He cared about his work after all, cared deeply; he couldn’t just stop because it was inconvenient to you. Moving a few vials out of the way Albedo laid out the chopping block. The amount of pasta he’d bought looked comical against the knowledge that he was going to be eating alone tonight.

Dinner was a sad affair. Somehow Albedo had gotten used to cooking with you, your proximity, your easy conversation, the way the one who finished their food first always pushed their chair next to the slower party, usually to lean their head on the other ones shoulder which while not necessarily comfortable was certainly relaxing. It was lonely now, and the loneliness only grew as Albedo lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow would be better. Still he lay there, thoughts scattered and hazy. Was he in the wrong? He couldn’t tell. But certainly he was in the wrong now, in the wrong for not being with you like usual, for not reacting when you left, for still being unable to react now.

It was that thought that eventually lulled him to sleep.

Albedo woke up to the most horrible smell. Squinting he sat up, trying to figure out what in the world was going on. The smell was vaguely akin to burning flesh, but it that flesh was also experiencing a bad case of freezer burn. Fighting the urge to gag Albedo stumbled around. Once he got to the living room he groaned. Some ammonia had managed to fall of the shelf and spill onto all the flowers he’d propped on the roof. Crinkling his nose he went to clean it up, but found it took about twenty minutes just to find where he’d put the tools for properly disposing equipment and bio-experiments.

By the time he was done the final shreds of his resolve had utterly dissipated. You were right. You were absolutely right and he absolutely needed to tell you. Barely stopping by the lab to throw the bags of ruined equipment in the trash he sprinted down the streets of Mondstadt. He hoped that he arrived at the Guild in time.

Albedo spied you just as your were getting your commissions handed to you. Calling out he stopped slightly as you turned to look at him with a weary gaze. Clearly you were still upset about the matter, and for a moment Albedo wondered whether or not he should just turn and leave. But he knew that wouldn’t help either. Nothing would help until he apologized, and that was exactly what he was going to you.

“Albedo I-”

“I’m so sorry,” Albedo blurted out, not wanting to give you a chance to misconstrue his actions, “I am truly so sorry my darling. You were absolutely right, and I shouldn’t have dismissed you like that. I am so deeply sorry.”

“Albedo,” you replied, voice sort of quiet in a way that worried him, “I’m very glad to accept your apology for that, I’m sorry for snapping at you, only…”

“Only?”

“Only did you mean what you said when you asked if I even cared? Do you think I am so selfish or so careless. I understand of course that words said in arguments are ones no one really thinks of, but I still want to know.” You glanced away, trailing off and Albedo felt his heart seize and a wave of guilt poured over him.

“Of course not!” Albedo stepped closer to you. “May I?” He opened his arms and you nodded briefly before closing the room between you two.

You buried your face in his shoulder, not wanting to look up. “I’m so sorry my darling,” Albedo whispered, running circles along your back. “I’m so sorry for making you question you and how I saw you like that. You’re right, I wasn’t thinking. I was the one too wrapped up in myself, in my work, and for that I am so deeply sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you mumbled, just happy to be as you’d been before. Arguments were always unpleasant, no matter what, but now it was all said and done and you could be yourselves again.

“Would you like to eat lunch together?” Albedo ventured, smiling when you looked up and gave a soft “yes”. The relief he felt was overwhelming and he vowed next time to be more careful.

One can get over arguments, but words are difficult to take back.

Childe

Although you disliked the Fatui in a vague, formal sort of way, that hatred had never truly been honed until you’d met Dottore.

At first you weren’t able to pinpoint what it was. Perhaps it was his erratic gaze, his odd smile, the way that he seemed to look at everything as if it was something to dissect – something which made you extremely uncomfortable. But then your dislike was given a proper motive when he and Childe went out one evening and your partner came back so plastered he didn’t seem to know who you were.

“Sorry about that dear.” Childe has laughed the day after, honestly how this man never seemed to have a proper hangover you didn’t know, not that he was drunk around you very often, something you appreciated greatly.

“Just don’t do it again.” You’d replied, frowning slightly. “That Dottore is a bad influence.”

“Awh, he’s not that bad,” Childe grinned, carelessly tossing about a book he had been reading, “not as bad as half the others anyways.”

“Still, be careful,” you commented, “you don’t want this to be a regular thing do you?”

“Aren’t I always careful?” Childe shook off your worry with his characteristic charm. “Besides Dottore’s going to be called back for a report to the Tsaritsa in about two weeks. Might as well make what you can out of his company while it lasts.”

“Perhaps.” You commented, secretly thinking that day couldn’t come close enough. Still it was only once, and you trusted Childe. He didn’t seem to like any of the Fatui anyways. Hopefully that would keep him from the fiasco of knocking down your door at 3:00.

But that didn’t stop him from doing it the next night, or the night after, or the night after. By night five you were absolutely done.

“Childe you have to stop this, you’re going to kill yourself the way you’re drinking.”

“You’re making too much of a fuss my dear,” Childe flitted his hand in the air as if batting away your concern, “if you think this is a lot you should see the sprees people go on in Snezhnaya. Honestly it’s only a little bit of fun, you know how hard it is to relax as a member of the Fatui in Liyue. Drinking buddies are hard to find, especially those who share my skill.”

“It’s more than a little bit of fun. Honestly Childe if I took this week by itself I’d think you were halfway to alcoholism! And I don’t appreciate you dragging me out of bed in the middle of the night, for fear you’d fall down the stairs if I left you and hurt yourself. It’s uncomfortable, seeing you so drunk.”

“Why?” Childe’s tone was still playful, but his eyes were narrowed slightly. Good. At least then he was listening to you.

“Have you ever interacted with a drunk person? Especially a drunk person on their fifth bender that week? It’s uncomfortable whether or not you know them and if you do it’s downright terrifying. Childe, I care about you and your health. And I’m begging you please stop these nights.”

“It’s fine.” Childe’s voice was growing harder by the moment. “I told you I can handle it, why do you have to pester so much?”

“Because I care about you!”

“Well maybe you should care a bit less.”

Childe stood up, making his way to the door. You knew that he was going to the Bank, knew that he was going to be out that night, but you said nothing. For now Childe’s sentence rang through your head. How could something so short be so painful. Shaking your head you moved to get your own equipment. Today was going to be a painful day.

You’d half expected the knock not to come, but sure enough it did. Turning to the clock you groaned inwardly. 3:45. Getting up you made your way to the door. Opening it you nearly slipped as your partner leaned on you. There was vodka on his breath and it made you feel as if you had no air. His words rattled through your head, refusing to leave since you’d first heard them. Maybe you should care a bit less. Fine, you would.

“Comrade?” Childe let out weakly. That was a new one. You made your way to the elevator and shoved him in there, making sure to angle it so he wouldn’t concuss himself.

“Get sober somewhere else.” And with that you slammed the button for the lobby floor, running out as the doors closed behind you. Childe made a strangled cry of protest but you didn’t care. You just wanted to sleep, and to forget. Maybe you should care less. Well why did it hurt to do so?

•

Childe squinted as a few rays of sun hit him square in the face. What was going on? Groaning he moved to reach for some blanket before realizing there was none. Shaking his head and ignoring the pounding headache that glanced right behind his eyelids he looked around. His mind was running as slow as it seemed possible to run but the minute it registered Childe felt himself flooded with embarrassment. A bench.

He was on a bench. Childe, Tartaglia, the Harbinger who had almost sunk Liyue. Said Harbinger was now sleeping on a bench, not because he’d fallen on hard times, not because of any reason that was understandable, but because he’d gotten too drunk to make it home.

No, not quite. Childe reached back into his memory, trying to piece together the night before. He had made it home, to your home, but you’d kicked him out. At first Childe felt a swell of irritation, but slowly but surely his memory caught up and he recalled the argument the morning before. He’d said something, hadn’t he. What was it?

Oh. Oh fuck.

Running back to your apartment he tried to straighten himself up, as if it wasn’t painfully obvious that he wasn’t nursing the worse sort of hangover. Damn he really relied on you. He relied on you and now he’d fucked up and now he needed to apologize.

Unfortunately his brain had only gotten that far so when you opened the door there was a bit of a pause, as he tried to think of what to say, words being drowned out by the pounding in his head.

“What do you want Childe?” You sighed, looking more depressed than anything. Childe felt a twinge of regret, but still the words wouldn’t come, not properly anyways, he must’ve still been a little drunk.

“I’m sorry.” Childe began, figuring that was the best way to go. “I’m sorry. Thank you and I’m sorry.”

“Thank you?” You tilted your head. “Are you sure you aren’t still drunk? I told you to sober up somewhere else.”

“Yes, I know, and I don’t know. But thank you for caring. And for looking after me. And I’m sorry.”

There was another pause, before you sighed.

“Come in.” You gestured, opening the door wider. Childe smiled weakly.

“Thank you.”

“Thank me later. I want to see you straightened up. And I want you to stop drinking like that.”

“I will.” Childe promised, making his way to the bedroom, wanting nothing more than to smash his face into a pillow. “Dottore was bad company anyways. Dear?”

“Yes?” You asked, still feeling a little shy. Perhaps you should’ve been more angry, but arguing always sat with you wrong. As did throwing Childe out.

“Thank you for caring.”

“You already said that.” You pointed out, finally cracking a smile, something that Childe mirrored, seeming somehow relieved.

“I know. But thank you.”

“Thank you for listening then.” You replied closing the blinds as Childe flopped onto the bed, sighing happily. “And thank you for forgiving me for kicking you out.”

“So callous.” Childe muttered, barely hearing your slight laugh as he drifted off to sleep.

Xiao

You hadn’t wanted to fight, not at all. Your relationship was still so young after all, so raw, but you couldn’t help it. And now, as you watched Xiao disappear into thin air, you felt the sour taste of fear mixed with anger and regret. You’d almost forgotten really, how quickly an adeptus can vanish.

The point of contention had been your commissions. While Xiao said nothing against them verbally, you could tell that your newfound partner was dissatisfied by your constant comings and goings, something made worse by your recent string of long trips. And it had all come to a head when you announced you’d be gone a month, traveling into Inazuma via a covert nautical route – thank you Beidou – before delivering a few papers to the Monstadt embassy, most being passports and travel papers for diplomats who let theirs expire. Xiao had listened to the scheme, glared becoming more and more pronounced as you went on. And when you were done he just shook his head and crossed his arms.

“You aren’t going.”

“What do you mean I’m not going?” You asked, confused.

“You aren’t going. For the love of the Seven, what kind of partner let’s their loved one smuggle themselves into a country with no chance of reprieve if something goes wrong and with no contact for a month? You aren’t going.”

“I’m going whether you like it or not,” you replied, irritation quickly running through your voice, “it’s fine Xiao, many people have done this before. And we need to get those Liyue diplomats home. Honestly, I’m not sure why you aren’t proud of me, proud of what I’m doing.”

“Because you’re putting yourself in needless danger and breaking the law for a few people who I’m sure could do just fine themselves.”

“You can’t just keep me from being an Adventurer Xiao. You can’t keep me from doing my job.”

“I told you it’s because I care about you.”

“No, it’s because you’re putting yourself above the needs of both myself and your own land. Xiao, don’t you care about Liyue?”

“I care about the land,” his voice was like stone, and when you glanced into his eyes for a moment they seemed truly without empathy or care, the gaze of an adeptus who understood nothing of the human world, “humanity can rot.”

“I’m a human,” you pointed out, voice soft. “Don’t you care about me.”

For a moment recognition flitted through Xiao’s expression and he seemed almost regretful. Then his gaze hardened over once more.

“You aren’t going.” And with that he disappeared.

•

It took Xiao approximately ten minutes to regret the entire situation. Being angry for long periods of time wasn’t necessarily an alien emotion to Xiao – sometimes he felt as if he carried anger everywhere he went – but anger at you certainly was, and no sooner had it arrived then it was fading away, replaced instead with a deep sense of shame and guilt.

Why was he so upset? Was it really out of care for you? Yes, he decided, there was that aspect to it. But there was something more, something less noble. He was afraid, he was afraid for you. He was afraid you’d be arrested, or your ship would succumb to the open ocean, or you’d be betrayed, or…

Thoughts fluttered in and out of Xiao’s mind, each one more outlandish than the rest. Behind them said the same thing. He was afraid. You were right, he was afraid.

Did he care about humans? No, Xiao could say that with certainty. Not the way humans cared about each other, the way the humans cared about the adepti, when they thought about them. Xiao hadn’t cared for humans for a very long time. Even the karma that he kept from wreaking the land was exorcised, not because of humans, but because it was his duty. He didn’t care about humans, not really.

But he did care about you. He cared about you and he didn’t want to keep you from what you loved in return. Not like he didn’t know you would go do your mission anyways. You would do your mission and if Xiao wasn’t careful the weeks of cultivating an acquaintanceship, and friendship, and then more would be ruined. And he’d just be left, watching and waiting, wondering if you’d be alright.

Xiao was thankful that you hadn’t left the balcony of the Inn. Appearing before you he reached out to hug you before hesitating.

“You can go.” He murmured, knowing that wasn’t ever a question.

“I’m going.”

“And I’m sorry.”

“I wish you hadn’t disappeared like that.” You frowned, but Xiao shook his head. Was that the worst he’d done?

“No, I’m sorry for saying you couldn’t go. I’m sorry for not caring. I’m sorry.”

You furrowed your brow in a familiar expression and Xiao nodded slightly. Hurrying to embrace him you shook your head, still not over what had just transpired so quickly.

“Your eyes were so cold.” You murmured.

“I’m sorry.” Xiao murmured again, hugging you tightly.

“Don’t be.” You replied. “Just, stay like this a little longer.” Xiao was all to happy to comply.

It was easy to forget Xiao was an adeptus sometimes, that he still had that side of him, those cold eyes, that brusque demeanor. But even if that sometimes threw you off, even if you argued and worried and regretted, it would all be fine in the end.

Because you’d always return to a familiar embrace, and a shared love.

#so long I am SORRY #requested #albedo #childe #xiao #albedo x reader #childe x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #my writing #scenarios

700 notes · View notes

hartigays · 3 years

Note

big brain thot: wheezie being the one to get rafebarry together👀👀

“wheeze, you can’t just show up here like this.”

she hasn’t even gotten off her bicycle yet, helmet still in place and everything. she looks up at rafe with big eyes, rolling them as slowly and dramatically as humanly possible.

“i just did,” wheezie points out, unclipping her helmet and setting it in the front basket of her bike.

rafe eyes her warily, then relaxes a bit. his eyes flicker back towards the trailer. “how’d you even know i’d be here?”

“topper,” she tells him simply, shrugging.

“topper?”

another overly-dramatic eye roll. “yes, topper. he came by looking for sarah and i asked him if he knew where you were. i need help with something.”

“and topper told you i’d be here?” rafe asks, brows raised.

topper is a lot of things, but is he the type of person to send a kid to a coke dealer’s trailer? no, absolutely not.

“i encouraged him,” wheezie replies, a little too vague for rafe’s liking. he narrows his eyes and she sighs. “fine, i kicked him in the crotch until he gave it up. happy?”

rafe snorts at the mental image.

wheezie finally climbs off her bike, standing in front of rafe with her arms crossed. “so, are you going to help me or not?”

he really doesn’t want to say yes. but he’s sort of always had a soft spot for wheezie - she’s one of two people who don’t make him feel completely homicidal.

(the other is sitting back in the trailer, smoking a joint and watching some boxing match on his old as shit tv. the thing has antennas, for fuck’s sake.)

rafe glances back at the trailer again, then turns back to wheezie, scrubbing a hand over his face. “fine. but you can’t come inside, wheeze, i’m serious.”

“why, because of drugs?” wheezie snorts, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “please. i’m pretty sure you smoked weed in my room when i was like, five.”

“that’s not the point,” rafe huffs, his fuse shortening ever-so-slightly. “just tell me what you want.”

for the first time since her arrival, wheezie looks mildly uncomfortable. she bites her lip, looking towards the treeline.

“i want to learn how to fight,” she says, and her voice sounds so small that rafe sort of feels… bad.

which is like a new milestone or whatever, so this is sort of a big moment for him.

“why do you need to learn how to fight?”

wheezie doesn’t say anything for a long stretch. then, her cheeks get red, and the words burst out of her. “i’m getting picked on at school, alright? this girl keeps saying she’s going to beat me up after class and i can only hide from her for so long, you know?”

rafe is mildly taken aback, never figuring wheezie for the type to get bullied. she always seemed self-assured and well adjusted, with a sizable group of friends and an active social life. for a middle schooler, anyway.

“what’s her name?” rafe asks, indignant on his sister’s behalf.

if he had to choose a sister to be the target of bullying, it’d definitely be sarah. wheezie, on the other hand, is just a kid. and if someone is threatening to kick her ass, rafe sure as hell is going to find out who.

“i’m not telling you her name, rafe,” wheezie says. “i don’t want you going and knocking her door down to threaten her or whatever. i want you to teach me how to fight so i can hold my own.”

rafe would probably just kill the kid, not threaten her, whoever she is. but he doesn’t tell this to wheezie, biting his tongue for once.

he rocks back on his heels, then sighs, and beckons for wheezie to follow him into the trailer.

wheezie throws her arms up as if to say fucking finally, following rafe inside.

barry is still smoking on the couch, but when he sees wheezie trailing after rafe, he has the presence of mind to put the joint out with an awkward cough.

“you gonna tell me who your little friend is, country club?”

“i’m his sister, wheezie,” she says before rafe can speak, rolling her shoulders back and holding barry’s gaze steadily.

“wheezie?” barry repeats, then laughs, wagging his finger in her direction. “you funny, kid.”

wheezie gives rafe a look, clearly judging him for his choice of company.

“jury’s still out on you,” wheezie tells barry, eyeing him.

barry actually throws his head back when he laughs this time, and rafe can’t help but eye the line of his throat, his mouth going a little dry.

the worst part is, wheezie notices him staring. she raises a brow at rafe. he just coughs and looks away, regretting every decision he’s made in the last ten minutes.

“look, she wants to learn how to fight,” rafe tells barry. “i figured two heads would be better than one?”

“or you just a pussy and know you can’t beat nobody’s ass, rafe,” barry says, reclining back on the sofa, staring at him through heavily-lidded eyes.

“neither can you,” rafe reminds him.

always reminding him. where rafe has failed, barry has too. rather consistently, as a matter of fact.

“fair ‘nough,” barry says after a stretch, leaning forward again. “two heads, then.”

wheezie coughs, and they both turn to look at her. she gives them a bored look. “are you two done having a moment? or do you still need a minute? because i can step outside if- ”

“shut up, wheeze,” rafe groans, pushing her towards the couch.

they spend the next hour and a half discussing fighting techniques, and the cardinal rules of fighting. the ones rafe and barry abide by, anyway.

there aren’t many. they spend the majority of the time discussing technique.

when wheezie gets sick of listening to them yammer on about the different types of headlocks, she starts to get restless.

“oh my god, i didn’t come for the rules of fight club, alright? will one of you just show me how to punch this bitch in the face?”

both barry and rafe shut up immediately, barry’s mouth dropping open in mild surprise.

rafe just snorts, mumbling fair enough under his breath.

and that’s how rafe ends up watching barry do some sort of shadow boxing with wheezie in the living room. rafe re-lights the joint, watching the scene before him in amusement.

“no, kid, you ain’t gotta do all that fancy shit with your legs,” barry is saying at one point, then demonstrates some sort of kick for her.

rafe forgets sometimes that barry has military training, and despite the fact that he gets his ass beat on a regular basis, he’s a pretty damn good teacher.

the joint is long gone by the time wheezie looks at her watch, cursing.

“shit. rose is gonna kill me,” wheezie mutters, fumbling for her phone.

“just tell her you’re staying at a friend’s,” rafe suggests. “it’s too dark for you to bike back anyway.”

“you could always drive me, you know,” wheezie reminds him. then, her eyes flicker down to what’s left of the joint (basically, the filter) and backtracks. “well, he could.”

she’s pointing at barry, and barry shrugs.

rafe, however, finds himself wanting wheezie to stay. dare he say it, he might’ve actually missed his sister.

he’s pretty sure he’ll regret it later, but regardless he says, “we’ll get you something to eat and you can crash here if you’re too tired to go home after.”

something to eat ends up being freezer-burnt pizza rolls, but wheezie doesn’t complain. she eats her food while scrolling through her phone, glancing up at rafe and barry every now and then.

they’re conversing quietly about a drug deal they have set up later, a big one. rafe doesn’t think wheezie is listening, but he also doesn’t notice the way she keeps glancing up at them, her eyes flickering between them with an unreadable look on her face.

and then, out of nowhere, “are you guys dating?”

rafe looks at her sharply and he sees barry do the same out of the corner of his eye. barry’s mouth had shut so quickly that his teeth clacked together, and rafe can see him rubbing at his jaw.

“what the hell, wheeze?”

wheezie raises her hands in mock-surrender, but still rolls her eyes. “it’s just a question, geez. but thanks for the answer.”

“the fuck is she talkin’ about?” barry asks, his gaze flickering between rafe and wheezie.

“you two,” wheezie explains slowly, looking almost bored. again. rafe is starting to think he’s had a bad influence on her. “you’re dating, right? like that’s why you’re always here, right?”

the latter question is directed towards rafe, and he feels his stupid cheeks betray him, burning red.

“oh, right. you’re men, of course you haven’t talked about it,” wheezie sighs, then stands up and brushes invisible crumbs off her shorts. “well, i conveniently have to use the bathroom, so. use this time wisely, i guess?”

then wheezie disappears from the small kitchen, leaving rafe and barry sitting in thick, palpable silence.

“so… what the fuck just happened?” rafe asks when he can’t take the uncomfortable silence any longer, pointedly not looking at barry.

when barry shifts in his seat, rafe can feel it, and he realizes all at once just how close they’re sitting.

“she thinks… “ barry trails off, shifting in his seat again.

“that we’re dating,” rafe finishes, swallowing around the golf ball-sized lump that has mysteriously appeared in his throat.

rafe can feel barry looking at him. he can feel the heat of his gaze, and wow, wheezie is taking a really long time in the bathroom.

“that what we been doing, country club?” barry asks, and rafe looks over at him so quickly that his neck pops.

rafe searches barry’s face for any trace of humor, but comes up empty.

they’ve been practically living together for months, ever since rafe gave up trying to please ward and joined barry’s little side business. and if he really thinks about it, they have lapsed into something almost nauseatingly domestic.

it’s like. like rafe’s been in this weird, fucked up relationship this whole time, and he’s just now realizing it. and realizing, at the same time, that he doesn’t want it to end now that wheezie has gutted them both and laid everything out in the open, where neither of them can hide.

jesus fucking christ, is he in love with barry? barry the drug dealer?

well, rafe supposes that’s what he would call himself now, too, so. maybe it makes some sort of sense after all.

“i don’t think so, but i think we should now,” rafe finally says. he doesn’t know why he says that last bit, it just sort of slips out before he realizes what he’s saying.

but he doesn’t take it back either.

barry is too quiet next to him. the silence goes on for far too long, and rafe is starting to debate internally whether or not he should dump wheezie’s body in the swamp or somewhere off shore.

finally, barry speaks. “startin’ to think you may be onto somethin’, rafe cameron.”

“so is that a yes?” rafe huffs, already feeling exposed enough as it is. he doesn’t need barry speaking in shades of gray.

suddenly, there are fingers wrapping around his jaw, gentler than rafe would’ve anticipated, and then barry is turning rafe’s head and kissing him.

like, really kissing him. rafe feels like he’s being turned inside out, his insides shifting and adjusting, rearranging and adapting to make room for barry.

it’s not a particularly long kiss, but it’s sure as hell the best one rafe has experienced in his life.

“they teach you that in the army?” rafe asks when barry pulls away, aiming for nonchalant but failing due to the heavy rise and fall of his chest. and the fact that he can’t stop staring at barry’s mouth.

barry just smacks the back of rafe’s head, shoving him lightly. “get the fuck out my kitchen, country club.”

rafe is about to respond when the bathroom door opens, and wheezie pokes her head out.

“ugh, thank god you’re finally done. you should invest in a bathroom fan, you know,” wheezie tells barry, “i could literally hear everything.”

she shudders and gags, barry laughs, and rafe vaults himself out the nearest window.

well, he tries to. barry catches him by the waist easily, dragging him back into his seat. wheezie just rolls her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“okay, well, since you’re done being a drama queen, i think i’d like that ride home now.”

#rafebarry #outer banks #fanon rafe and canon rafe my beloveds #thank u for the request!! <3 #my fics #ask #anon

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honeytae · 3 years

Text

I can’t wait to create more memories with you.

hi my loves! so this is a super fluffy little piece about jungkook and his s/o moving in together - it starts out on moving day and there’s a little flashback to when the topic of moving in together was first brought up :) it’s overall just really cute idk i hope you guys like it <3

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

word count: 2.8k

Slowly turning the handle to enter your apartment, you tried your best to mentally prepare yourself for what you would inevitably see. That didn’t seem to work, though, since it felt like an absolute sucker-punch to the gut.

The space looked brand new; a completely blank canvas for its next tenants.

Walking into the empty apartment you used to call your own now felt heavy instead of homey. The path to your bedroom felt routine, but slightly shaken with the absence of all your things. Photos of your family no longer occupied the walls, that little throw rug you’d picked out for the summer had been cleaned off the floor, and the various vases of flowers your boyfriend surprised you with were no longer kept front and center on the table against the wall.

And even though those items were still in existence, even though everything was still intact and far from gone, it still made your heart clench a bit in your chest that they would no longer be here.

Rounding the corner to enter your bedroom, you leaned your shoulder against the door frame for a moment, admiring the pristine openness of your room in its empty state. You couldn’t recall it ever feeling so big.

Heaving a deep sigh, you let your legs carry your body over to the bay window, taking a seat on the ledge to peer out at the view one last time.

At the sound of Jungkook calling your name, you glanced back to the doorway of your bedroom, staring at your boyfriend as he tipped his head at your unreadable expression.

Although he’d been lifting boxes all throughout the morning and afternoon, somehow he barely looked strained. In fact, he was still annoyingly attractive. He had his grown out hair tossed back into a bun (with one of your hair ties), and he was wearing plain black shorts hidden beneath one of his many oversized t-shirts.

How he could make it all look so good, you had no idea.

“Hi.” You said, the man wordlessly approaching you with a run of his palms down his thighs, crossing the room in only a few long strides to get to your swinging legs.

“I didn’t expect to find you in here. You okay?” He asked, his brows pulled together as he took a seat beside you.

Taking a stray strand of your hair between his fingers, he pushed it back from your face, subtly analyzing the emotions written into your features with dancing pupils.

Immediately wanting to ease him, you leaned forward, pursing your lips underneath his jawline before letting your chin rest on his shoulder.

Wrinkling your nose at the odor rising from his t-shirt, you tilted your head slightly to escape the smell, unbeknownst to Jungkook.

“You’re sweaty.” You observed, the man craning his neck to look down at you, comically raising his brows at your bluntness.

“I’ve been working!” He defended himself, making you chuckle a bit before picking your head up to smile at him.

“I know you have.” You said appreciatively, leaning forward to press your lips to his when he subtly puckered them out to you.

“Saying your goodbyes?” He offered in explanation to your presence in the apartment, having already successfully gathered every last box there was to take.

You laughed at that, nodding a bit in response.

“In a way.” You shrugged, letting your temple fall on his bicep with a sigh. Shifting your eyes down to your leg as Jungkook grabbed ahold of your thigh, you smiled as he lifted and draped it over his own thigh, drumming his pointer fingers on your muscle.

Feeling his lips purse against the top of your head, you let your eyes fall shut, the distant sound of birds outside the screened window behind you letting you zone out into a much more peaceful space than your mind had been in previously.

It was the only serene moment you’d had today. From movers bustling in and out of your apartment, your mom coming to help you label and sort all your boxes, your neighbors poking their heads in to the chaos to finally nose their way into seeing the layout of your place in comparison to theirs; it had been a lot.

“Are you gonna miss it here?”

Peeling your eyes open at Jungkook’s sudden question, you lifted your head to properly look at him, curiosity evident in the slight widening of his eyes.

“Hm. The memories it holds, more than anything.” You answered, watching as he nodded in understanding. “I never liked the kitchen layout.” You added as an afterthought, causing the man to burst into giggles before shaking his head at you.

“I don’t think the kitchen was too bad. Although I love our kitchen.” He grinned at the emphasis he could officially put on the word, you sharing the same reaction at the phrase. Our kitchen. Our new apartment.

“I’m so excited.” You all but squealed, the man chuckling as you squeezed him tighter to you in your excitement.

“Me too.” He said, smile slightly closing his eyes as his face creased with the strength of his happiness.

“Remember how nervous you were when you first brought up moving in together?” You wondered, peeking over at the closet across the room that had started it all.

“I do.” He chuckled, making you smile as your brain took you back to the event that had taken place only a few months prior, in this very room.

“Hey.”

Looking up from the heap of clean clothes at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, you had eyed a pouty Jungkook, raising your eyebrows at his expression as his eyes briefly fixed on the clothes before focusing back on your face as he shuffled into your bedroom.

The tone and facial expression that Jungkook greeted you with had your eyes widened slightly, examining his approaching stature, his eyes squinted at you accusingly.

“Hi.” You responded, laying Jungkook’s clean boxers on your thigh to straighten the fabric before you creased it.

“Are you hiding something from me?” He asked, causing you to tip your head in confusion as you stared back at him, bottom lip jutted out slightly.

“Not that I know of, no.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows raised at that, walking further into the bedroom to approach where you sat on the mattress folding a fresh load of clean clothes.

You watched as his eyes searched the pile, sighing dejectedly before turning back toward the closet to rummage through it some more.

“What are you up to?” You asked, Jungkook’s actions stalling only a bit when he picked up on the annoyed tone you used at his messing up of the rack of clothes in there.

“I’m looking for my hoodie.” He explained his actions, causing you to roll your eyes behind his back.

Jungkook seemed to have an emotional attachment to each and every one of his hoodies, even though he had hundreds to speak of. Every time you borrowed one, he tracked you down and made you give it back.

It was never in a mean way; he only wanted his stuff returned, and you understood that. But at a certain point, it was just annoying.

“Which one are you looking for?”

“It’s the black one with the blue flames on the hood.” He recalled, scanning the row of clothes for the design before grunting in disapproval upon coming up empty-handed.

Shaking your head, you sighed as you diverted your eyes back to the clothes awaiting folding. You could still hear the man rummaging through the plethora of hung items over your music, pressing your lips together in slight annoyance at the stubborn man.

The closet in your bedroom was now a fifty-fifty split of your clothes and Jungkook’s. You couldn’t recall when he had started keeping clothes there; you suppose it just happened naturally as he spent more and more time with you.

In fact, you were going on two years. You had picked up his habits and him some of yours, you knew all his little quirks and vice versa. Including his necessity for keeping all his precious hoodies in check.

“Why must you fret about each and every one of your hoodies' temporary absences?” You sighed, the man mumbling an “ouch” as something fell out onto his foot.

“Because I know someone,” he looked back to you for emphasis, “likes to steal them and then I never get them back. I swear you’re renting a storage locker for my hoodies just so I can’t find them here.”

At his dramatics, you merely sighed again, going back to folding your t-shirt before you paused, looking up to stare at the back of his head.

Thinking back, you could picture the black hoodie in a heap on his bedroom floor the other day, tossed aside after some activities between you two and obviously forgotten about by your boyfriend.

“Did you check your place?” You asked, Jungkook’s actions pausing at your words before he slowly spun around to you.

His face was plagued with guilt, cheeks full in a different kind of pout than the bratty one he’d greeted with as his sweet doe eyes came out to play.

“Ugh, sorry.” He said, cheeks heated before he made his way over to you, landing on the mattress with his head resting on your thigh.

You chuckled at the embarrassed pout on his face as he nestled his head into your leg, staring up at you with a ‘hmph.’

“I just can’t seem to keep track of what’s at mine or yours.” He explained, you nodding with a fond smile as you brushed hair back from his face.

“I know. You just get so damn protective over those hoodies.” You teased, the man scrunching his nose at your cooing tone.

“It is really difficult to keep track of what is where.” He sighed, looking up at you with a gleam in his eye that told you he was thinking something he wasn’t saying.

“It is. What’s going on in here, baby?” You tapped your pointer finger against the crown of his head, the man smiling shyly as he grabbed your hand in his.

“Why don’t we,” he trailed off, hoping you’d get his hint so he didn’t have to come out and actually say it. When you only stared at him in response, he sighed, shaking his head to negate what he’d been saying causing you to grab his wrist with a pout.

“Why don’t we what?” You asked, jutting your bottom lip out at the disappointed look on your boyfriends face, smoothing your thumb over the corner of his mouth to ease his frown.

“Well, you know,” he shrugged, “since it’s so hard going back and forth between each other’s places,” he trailed off, groaning when you only smiled back at him, eyebrows raised in amusement as you waited for him to continue.

The look on your face told him you knew. The gleam in your eye told him you knew exactly what he was trying to articulate.

“Baby,” He groaned, realizing you were messing with him as you pulled begging eyes down at him. He removed his hand from yours, pulling it away with a pout as you chuckled at his reaction.

“What, Kook? What’s on your mind?” You continued playing dumb, wanting to drag the words you’ve been waiting so long to hear out from the man.

“C’mon, why are you making me say it if you already know?” He whined, you giggling as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Because I want to hear it from you. And I like seeing you squirm.” You smirked, the man scoffing underneath you as he recaptured your hand in his own.

“Baby, my sweet angel, the brightest star in the entire universe-“

“Jungkook!” You laughed, lightly squeezing his hand as you grinned down at him, his teeth shining up at you as he shyly blushed at the words in his brain.

“Can we move in together?”

“Hm,” you hummed, the man’s eyes bulging as he slightly panicked beneath you, “give me some good reasons to.” You smirked again, your boyfriend gasping at your words before he took control, flipping you over to hover above your frame as you squealed at the sudden action.

“You brat.” He leaned his forehead down to yours, effectively silencing you with a kiss to your lips, your fingers tickling at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“For one,” he started, “you wouldn’t have to hear me complaining about my missing hoodies anymore. I can make a mean cup of tea, I’m really good at laundry, I-”

You cut the man off with a press of your lips to his, silencing him with a muffled noise as his hand squeezed at your hip.

“You don’t have to give me any reasons.” You mumbled against his lips, feeling them curl into a small smile as he made a noise of delighted surprise. He knew you were only teasing, but he couldn’t believe you hadn’t dragged it out longer.

“Really?” He grinned, causing you to giggle beneath him out of sheer fondness.

“Yeah, I’ll move in with you.”

“Really, really?” He grinned, his doe eyes sparkling at you as you nodded to confirm, laughing at the man’s goofy repetition of the question you’d already answered.

“So, we’re actually doing this? We’re moving in together?” He raised his eyebrows, face melting into a grin as you brushed his hair back from his forehead.

“I think we’re ready, don’t you?” You smiled, the look of absolute happiness on your boyfriends face almost making you tear up as he all but hugged you to his frame.

“I know we’re ready, baby.” He nodded, kissing you again as you both continued smiling like idiots.

“Wait, how do we do this?” You asked, Jungkook furrowing his brows as he pondered your question.

“Huh. I don’t know.” He chuckled, you giggling along with him before sighing in thought.

“Do we want to look for a new apartment altogether?” You wondered aloud, Jungkook bouncing his head back and forth in thought, hair moving with his head.

“We could. Do you really want to leave here, though?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise when you shrugged in response, raising your hand to cup his cheek lovingly.

“I don’t care where I live as long as you’re with me. What about your place?” You offered, Jungkook mirroring your earlier response with a quirk of his shoulders up to his face.

“You’re my home.” He put simply, laughing when your bottom lip jutted into a pout, pressing kisses over your face as your eyes filled with water out of pure adoration for the man.

At the memory, you felt your eyes water again, looking up at Jungkook with a pout. Your boyfriend, wrinkling his nose at your expression, poked at your bottom lip, tutting his tongue at you.

“What happened to not caring where you lived as long as I’m with you?” He teased, squeezing your shoulder with a smile.

“I still feel that way, Kookie.” You assured him with a grin, taking his hand as he wiggled his fingers out to you.

“Good. We’re going to create so many more memories in our new home, I promise.” He said, baring his teeth to you again as he felt you squeeze your fingers around his hand.

“I know. I can’t wait to create more memories with you.” You sighed dreamily, leaning in for another chaste kiss on the man’s tempting pout.

“So,” he leaned his forehead against yours, “are you feeling ready to leave now?”

His words were soft, but they weren’t spoken with tentativeness. There was obvious excitement in his tone, an emotion that had you wanting to spring off your bay window and never look back.

“Let’s go.” You smiled, coming to a stand as Jungkook remained seated, grinning at you in amusement at your sudden change in attitude about leaving this place.

“Alright, boss.”

With a grunt, he came to his feet, never letting go of your hand as you made your final stroll through the apartment together.

Passing through the years’ worth of memories within the walls, you both took a silent few steps before pausing in the entryway, giving the place one last glance before meeting each others eyes with small, matching smiles.

Turning the handle to your front door for the last time, you let the latch slide closed like you had so many times before, tick-tick tacking as it came to a secure shut.

Shutting the door behind you, simultaneously opening a new one.

#bts fanfiction #bts member x reader #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts imagine #bts fluff #bts reader insert #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #fanfiction #x reader #imagines #fluff

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