#the fact that he's just straight up Not A Good Person anymore by this point of the story
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
crush3dmary · 3 months ago
Text
I'm probably about 80% done the new chapter and might even finish tonight. I sure hope I've done a good job building up Ryou as a likeable narrator so far, because man, does he ever say some unlikeable stuff in the new chapter, lmao.
4 notes · View notes
tetzoro · 3 months ago
Text
☽◯☾ - ALL TOO EAGER
꒰ synopsis ꒱ : Eren accidentally stumbled upon his newest side gig, pleasuring himself before thousands of viewers. But honestly, it’s all for his favorite creator — you.
꒰ content ꒱ : MDNI. eren jaeger x reader ; virginity loss (eren), unprotected sex, use of nicknames (baby, pretty girl) — WC : 2k
⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ New Moon ! ꒱ ― kinktober masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media
camboy!eren who started doing solo videos because he was bored. somewhat of a social reject even long after graduating high school, he spent a lot of his nights furiously pumping his cock to whatever videos he’d find online.
camboy!eren who saw other guys do solo videos and make a lot of money, so he thought, why not? after a few clicks, he had an account and was ready to go.
camboy!eren who grew quickly in popularity due to the breathy groans he’d let out that ultimately led to soft whimpers when he was cumming all over his finely tuned abs. not to mention he had a pretty dick.
camboy!eren who finds your page one day and it quickly becomes his favorite. whenever he’s fucking his flesh light, he has your video on in the background just wishing you were really here with him. he has to refrain from moaning your name, trying to keep his words to a minimum as rides his high with your sweet mewls echoing in his head.
camboy!eren who discovers that you make videos with other guys and realizes his daydreams don’t seem so far fetched. that is, until he realizes you only do it with one guy — your boyfriend. he becomes obsessed with these videos regardless, pretending that he was really the one who was fucking you instead of the asshole with the small dick.
camboy!eren who leaves filthy comments under your videos, bragging that he’d fuck you better than your boyfriend (regardless that he’s never actually had sex). overtime, they just grew more relentless and he even went as far as sending you links of his own little videos.
camboy!eren who’s heart falls to his ass when he sees you finally reply to him, sending him a message that practically begs him to test out that theory of his, explaining that you and your boyfriend were no more.
and of course he was all too eager to accept.
the messages between you two only grew in velocity as time went on. as it turns out, planning up a meet up was extremely difficult. he learned you didn’t live so far away but with the way both of your schedules were set up, it would take some time before you had a weekend to meet up. 
so the texts turned raunchier, unable to hold back any longer. eren knew you were getting over your ex but he couldn’t stop his fingers from flying across the screen, ensuring you that he would please you like no one else. afterall, he’s watched your videos for so long, he knows what spots you would always target, what kinds of things would have you coming undone with a sweet cry. it was all achingly committed to his memory.
the fact that you were more than receptive to his bold claims, borderline just as obsessed as he was, turned him on to the point where just his hand and one of your old videos on didn't cut it anymore. both of you still did your shows, but almost every night you’d switch to facetime and get off to each other properly.
the soft whimpers and moans you let out as he watched you finger your cunt, begging for him to come over and help you out had his body growing taut with desire. only a few more days and he’d finally have you all to himself and he was more than ready to prove how good he could be for you.
but in all honesty, if eren had known that those few (hundred) comments he had left on your page would bring him to this moment, he would’ve started flooding your chat a long, long time ago.
the plan was simple: get together, have a practice round, then give your viewers a real show.
never in his life had he been so mesmerized, so in awe of the person before him. or rather, under him. the inescapable truth that he’s never done this before has flown straight below the radar – for now.
the reddened tip of his cock nudges along your clit, pressing into it and watching your body jolt in retaliation. every reaction he pulled from you had him wanting more, craving it more than he craved his own release. to please you has been his main goal but he didn’t realize that in doing so, he was already teetering on the edge of losing control.
“ready for me, pretty girl?” eren asked, trying to keep his voice level but the slight shake in his tone betrayed him. the fact he was going to lose his virginity to the one who took up each and every one of his fantasies seemed surreal.
it was more than he could’ve imagined whenever he’d fist his cock in the dead of night, wishing and manifesting for a moment like this. all too beautifully you were sprawled out under him, preening to his touch.
“please, eren.” as soon as the plea left your plush lips, he had no choice but to start pressing into you. inch by inch, he sunk himself in, his fingers tightly gripping onto your hips. 
every coherent thought he’d ever had disappeared into a haze of pleasure as soon as he bottomed out. slack-jawed and frozen, basking in the warmth of your cunt enveloping him way better than a fleshlight could ever. there was no way he could ever return to it, not with you pulsing around him, silently begging and pleading to milk him right then and there. a part of him almost gave into his urges, letting himself spill into you without another thought but he knew he had to get you there first.
eren slowly came back to his senses, looking down at you and almost instantly regretting it. there’s no way you could be faking any of it, not with how close he is. you, with your watery eyes, pupils dilated as they were lost and swimming in pleasure. it was clear every part of you wanted this as much as him.
plap, plap, plap.
the sounds of him thrusting into you started to fill the otherwise muted room. his hips had a mind of their own, driven by a primal instinct as he took in your beauty. after seeing your expression morph into something more blissful than the heavens, he couldn’t hold himself back from pounding into you. everything felt too good – so tight, so warm. 
“fuck-” his voice betrayed him, cracking under the weight of his bliss. he bares his teeth, doing what he can to block anymore traitorous sounds that escape him and reveal how much he’s at your mercy. but it’s all for nothing as the next words slip out of his mouth, nothing more than a hiss. “you feel so fucking good.”
there was no way he could stop as he thrusted into you, your slick completely coating his cock, allowing him to sink into you faster, deeper. the way you writhe and whine beneath him, nails digging into his shoulders before dragging along his back forced a whimper to slip past his lips. 
his ears felt all too hot, the tips undoubtedly burning up because of the utter vulnerability of it all. thank god his hair was long enough to cover them, the haphazard half bun he had tossed it up in earlier was cascading down, almost annoyingly obscuring the beautiful view before him.
“talk to me, baby.” he grunted, wanting to hear the praise fall from your lips. “tell me how it feels.”
“feels s’good, eren —” the air in your lungs gives away as you gasp out, your hands digging into the duvet as leverage to ground yourself with. eren can’t hold back a grunt as you arch your back so your chest is flush against his, nipples brushing together with each thrust.“touch me more, please!”
without a wasted breath, eren’s hands mindlessly slide along your body, fingers trailing along every curve and dip as he begins to map it, desperately wishing to commit it to his memory. everything about you was so soft, so addicting that he didn’t want to let go. 
“so good to me, such sweet manners f’me.” he coos, the slight condensation dripping from his tone. the fire that was pooling in his abdomen ignites more as he takes in your expression – half lidded eyes that were only focused on him, your heaving chest that only enticed him more. one hand pushes your hips back down into the mattress as his other one cups your chest, thumb brushing over your pert bud. “just makes me want to give you more.”
“please–!” your legs locked around his waist, lulling him in deeper, causing his hips to stutter at the new angle.
“y-yeah? you want more?” all of the muscles in his body tensed up, an impending doom settling in as his release threatened to spill prematurely. halting his motions, he presses his forehead against yours, trying to steady himself and push away the high he could practically taste. after counting down, the urgent need to come simmered away right before your hips started to move against his own. “fuck, o-okay. i’ll give you whatever you want, baby.”
eren can’t help it but need something to steady himself and with the way his body was trembling in overflowing pleasure, he opted out from grabbing onto you — it was much to risky. instead, he reached over, grappling the bed frame as he delivered each thrust with a needy precision, setting a new pace that had you both crying out in a sinful harmony. each time he sunk back into you, cock all snug within your walls, he could feel you clench around him with the sweetest whine of his name parting from your lips.
another groan bubbled up from his throat but by the time it escaped his mouth, it was a full blown whine. from someone who was known for his guttural grunts, the whine was unexpected.
there’s no way to tell where his body ends and yours begins, all he knows is that one of you is trembling, shaking and he has a sneaky suspicion it's him – not that he’d ever admit it though.
his world was brought back down to your center of gravity as soon as you tugged on his long locks, melding your lips against his in a kiss that threatened to take away all of his remaining sanity. there was no more room for air as his lungs filled with the sweet hums you couldn’t contain. 
you pull away from the kiss for a moment, a sheen of passion covering them in a way that looks like gloss – undeniably enticing him for more. his lips involuntarily chase after yours, not letting you get a moment of reprieve from his intensity. how could he? 
he didn’t want to stop as he carved his way into you, trying to erase all semblance of the other men that you had been with — especially the nasty ex he decided he hated. to have fumbled someone like you must’ve meant he was an absolute dumbass. his loss was eren’s gain and he would make sure that you knew that by the end of the night.
“‘m close, ‘ren.” the sweetness of your voice coiled deep within him, on the verge of snapping. 
“me too.” he grunts, gritting his teeth as he tries to stave his release. despite desperately rutting into you, he could barely pull out. your legs lock him in, your thighs trembling all around him as you come undone with a cry of his name. there was no way he could hold back anymore, shoving himself as deep as he could as he shook and whined with his orgasm. “‘m cumming – fuck, ‘m cumming. all for you, take it, baby, please–”
after the last rope of cum spilled into your pulsing cunt, eren let out a shudder, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. the room fell quiet yet again, save for the sounds of your shared breath, your lungs fighting for air. eren falls to your side, careful not to crush you as his arms encircle your waist and pull you closer to him.
“shit-” eren gasped, his pulse still racing. 
“and that was just the warm up.” you laugh softly, hand trailing down his abs. “you ready to turn the camera on now?”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
drivebypainter · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
I redesigned my SVSSS OC as the start of my mission to create a design/reference sheet for all of the SVSSS characters!
(prev design)
Here’s her lore:
The lore behind He Mixin’s arrival:
Shang Qinghua, wasn’t one for extreme superstitions. However, he definitely believed he must have broken a hundred mirrors for him to have the luck he currently had. He was stuck doing paperwork and taxes not only for the entire sect, but the entire northern palace too! Not only that but it was only his first few years as a peak lord and already multiple disasters had happened!
So in order to to minimize any future problems, Shang Qinghua began praying to a god of luck and fortune. Sure it was probably useless and a waste of time, but it felt nice to do it. Soon the prayers turned into little out of the way tasks to increase his luck. The it turned into whole rituals before he sent a letter or before he went on a mission. It seemed to be working too! His paper work seemed easier and people began to turn in their work on time!
However one day it went all wrong. You see, Shang Qinghua in his rush to save a stack of paper from falling off his desk, he stuck his chop sticks straight up- in his bowl of rice! (Bad luck!)
After that once unfortunate moment, everything went wrong again. Taxes grew harder, people began to be late with their reports, and peaks began to have disasters every week!
Desperate to get back his luck, Shang Qinghua begged the little statue of the lucky and fortunate god for help. Shang Qinghua was surprised when the sound of the system suddenly sung in his head with a new mission!
[User01 has gained a new mission with a grand reward of a permanent buff on paperwork and other peakly duties! Does User01 want to accept this mission?]
Extremely excited, Shang Qinghua selected the yes button and immediately forgot about the mission, after the system only gave a vague [great see you in 12 years!]
Over the next 4 years, Shang Qinghua’s luck slowly increased again.. but it never got to the point from before, and in fact any increase of luck was barely appreciated due to his now PAINFUL headaches that he was getting all the time.
On the dawn of the 5th year, Shang Qinghua could no longer take it, and begged the system to end the mission. There was no way he could handle it anymore! The pain was too much!
The system remained silent so Shang Qinghua ran to Mu Qingfang for help. After a quick analysis, Mu Qingfang found the problem, there was something growing next to Shang Qinghua’s brain! Mu Qingfang went to remove the mass and suddenly out popped a whole 5 year old child! Shang Qinghua was horrified- but the child’s birth(?) aligned with the mission… so was this his buff for everything on his peak?
Shang Qinghua decided to name the child He Mixin, (which means “to celebrate superstition”), as a call back to all the silly things Shang Qinghua did in the name of luck!
As He Mixin grew up, Shang Qinghua gave up his superstitions and instead just relied on giving small prayers to the lucky god in thanks. After all, despite its craziness, Shang Qinghua now had his own little ‘good luck charm’.
He Mixin personality/details/how she interacts with others:
He Mixin is a very stubborn and hard worker. She works hard to get things done and to make her baba proud. (thought she’d never tell him that).
She has a lot of anger issues, resulting with dealing with “man-child” peak lords and annoying fellow disciples (and even more annoying fellow head disciples).
She is prone to bouts of impulsivity, as shown by her horrible hair that she did on a day where she wanted to be free of the excruciating heat caused by summer in CQMS.
She is sometimes called the Princess of An Ding, because she is the daughter of SQH and out of all the disciples on An Ding she is rather weak. (though off on her peak she is considered the most physically strong out of her fellow head disciples- despite that strength she is very much not a fighter.)((A Ding disciples have to be sturdy and capable in order to do the amount of physical labor they do)).
HMX doesn’t like a lot of people due to the fact her opinions are usually clouded by the fact she has to deal with their bullshit when she does paperwork.
HMX is lesbian yay.
HMX is friends with Feng Licheng (the Zui Xian head disciple) and Gao Hongxia (the Wan Jian head disciple). The three of them hang out regularly.
HMX was forced to go on play dates with FLC the moment he joined ZXP.
HMX has a huge crush on GHX (GHX is beautiful, kind and competent! AWOOGA!)
HMX is frenemies with Ming Fan because the guy is annoyingly bossy! No other reason! (MF and GHX are friends- HMX is insanely jealous every time they hang out)
HMX hates Yang Yixuan to the bone because the brat is Bai Zhan and Bai Zhan sucks (YYX is a pure baby who never did anything wrong.)
HMX’s relationship with SQH is sorta like begrudging father/daughter type deal. HMX wants, but then also doesn’t want, a father, and SQH doesn’t know how to deal with children LOL.
MBJ was shocked the first time he met HMX- “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAD A KID POP OUT OF YOUR HEAD???”
HMX was taught embroidery by SQH and now regularly does little embroidery projects on either her own clothes or on little scraps of paper.
Both Feng Licheng and Gao Hongxia belong to @sillygoofyqueer
406 notes · View notes
ki-yomii · 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.4k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; fwb, angst w/ a happy ending, teasing, finger fucking, squirting, praise kink, frottage, dirty talk, pet names, commitment issues, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, dom!jk, idiots in love, misunderstandings ➥ summary | after being stood up one too many times, you realize you're in love with jungkook. and that just won't do. ➥ notes | istg i've re-written this more times than i care to count 💀 enjoy!
🖤 masterlist | inbox | AO3 🖤
Tumblr media
cnt make it 2nite
The text is blunt - biting. No explanation offered, and certainly no false platitudes found in the lifeless string of black letters. Rather simple and straight to the point.
As you should have expected from Jungkook. He wasn’t known for his verbosity, and even less so for his love of texting.
But as you chew the fat of your cheek, reading it over and over again in an attempt to glean some hidden meaning that isn’t there, you admit to yourself - at least privately - there’s no more avoiding the truth.
One that’s been hovering over your shoulder for weeks like a shroud; an unwelcome guest you can’t ignore anymore: Jungkook’s been avoiding you.
It shouldn’t be surprising.
Moreover, it shouldn’t hurt.
There shouldn’t be an ache in your chest every time you see his contact or the plummet of your stomach when that inevitable excuse comes through.
In the end, he owes you nothing. The arrangement between you is casual, just a little fun between good friends.
It still fucking sucks though, you think, sucking your teeth.
Night thoroughly ruined before it’s begun, it’s only a matter of deciding how to respond now. In the past you’ve used a plethora of options, but you’re stumped. Unsure how to correlate the level of hurt to the nature of your not-relationship.
Should you be petty, passive-aggressive, indifferent - or worst of all: honest?
Hah, no way. I’d rather die.
Beside you, the bartender politely averts his gaze and busies himself with polishing a stack of pint glasses. It’s a slow night, and that’s saying something as this bar’s a little hole in the wall.
It’s never overly busy, which is one of the reason’s it’s a favorite meeting spot of yours. The floors might be sticky, but the music’s decent, the strobe lights they kick on after 10 PM aren’t offensive enough to induce a migraine, and the drinks are cheap with a heavy pour.
Watching him work is impressive - and almost distracting enough for you to ignore the needle sharp ache taking root beneath your ribs, the churn of your stomach.
Humiliation burns hot, creeps up your neck to settle into the apples of your cheeks as you’re stood up.
Again.
It isn’t the first time - it won’t be the last.
But it cuts deeper than all the rest combined, harder to shake off. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. The growing distance between you throbs like an open wound, as if Jungkook himself plunged a hand into your chest.
Scooped out any tender, soft thing he could find and left you hollowed out. Drained.
Not taking his flakiness personally used to be so easy. And now… well.
Goddamnit. A palm scrubs over your decolletage roughly to soothe the throb of your heart. What the hell did you expect to happen, getting involved with Jeon Jungkook, huh?
Everything from his stupidly pretty eyes to the dangerous curl of his mouth, the thick soles of his boots to the lapels of his leather jacket scream walking red flag.
Never mind the fact his proclivities are an open secret among the group. He’s never tried to hide his distaste for commitment. Finds it too monotonous. Predictable.
An eternally free soul much preferring to flit from one experience to the next, never shackled down for long. The Icarus of myth made flesh.
He runs through women like he runs through shoes, and you witnessed enough of the ensuing heartbreak and tears to be wary.
But knowing and feeling something are two very different things.
The dichotomy throws you off-kilter and finds you abandoned in a bar, once again, to choke on a regret so bitter you swear it’ll burn a hole through your throat.
What’s going on with me, you think, this is nothing new. He does this all the time.
You used to get on so well.
Any initial misgivings faded away in the face of Jungkook’s blinding attention, his unfaltering kindness lurking just beneath that surface of grit and gravel.
Even after you fuck, he never acts any differently, as casual between the sheets as he is lounging on your couch.
It's been great, it's been enough - until now.
Just the thought of going back to your empty apartment, alone, only to wake up and fall back into Jungkook’s orbit tomorrow when he swings by with a half-assed apology on his lips, and your favorite drink in hand is enough to make your skin crawl.
Stomach twisting itself into knots, everything in you rebels against the sudden cold realization: nothing will change - least of all Jungkook.
He’ll continue to take-take-take.
You'll continue to give-give-give.
On and on you'll go; a distant star orbiting a black hole, losing little bits of itself until there's nothing left.
Then he’ll leave your life as quickly as he entered it, a blurry after-image there and gone in the blink of an eye.
Fuck, I - I can’t do this anymore, you think, a shiver rattling down your spine, Because I…
An errant thought gains teeth, sinks them deep. Refuses to budge as an awful truth - one buried so deep you forgot it was there, ever lurking in the shadows - rises to the forefront of your mind.
And then --
Oh.
It’s because I love him - because I’m in love with him.
Suddenly it hurts to breathe, your lungs burning as you drown on the air itself. The steel band cinching around your ribs threatens to crack you open.
Your heart lurches in your chest, despair following swiftly to settle over your shoulders. Moreover, there is no one to blame except yourself.
Even if you want it to, it will never work out because loving Jungkook is to love the ghost of a long-forgotten memory.
And there are too many hurts to soothe, too many disappointments to name.
I can’t believe I actually -- shit. You swipe a shaky hand over your forehead. When you swallow, a sour taste clings to the back of your tongue. Should’ve known better.
You glance at your phone, the cursor blinking back at you mockingly. Should’ve done a lot of things, I guess.
Now, you're in too deep.
Waiting without ever realizing you began to do so in the first place; a life on pause, surviving off scraps of half-measures and maybe's, what-ifs, and if only's.
Now, it's clear the only way out is through.
The time to let go is here.
You need to muster up some semblance of self, and work to untangle the threads of connection binding you together. You need space to rediscover the pieces of your heart you left with him.
How to live without the taste of his kiss, the clench of his muscles, the thrust of his cock.
A new life sans Jungkook which begins with a simple reply in place of everything you really want to say: ok.
Then you wave the bartender over.
He does you a kindness once more, pretending not to notice the tears brimming along your lower lash line. “You ready to order?” he asks.
“Uh, yeah - sorry, I was…”
His mouth twitches. You waver.
Then the screen of your phone lights up with a notification.
Refusing to look lest you cave, emotions too fresh -  scraped raw and tender, you switch on DND and turn it face down where it will remain until you go home.
You're far too fragile (and sober) to think about reading Jungkook’s reply, let alone engage with him in any meaningful way.
“I’ll take a double vodka cranberry.”
Maybe if you get drunk enough, you'll forget about the home he carved in your bones.
Bottoms up, bitch.
Tumblr media
w8 nvm guys cnt make it
y/n?
i cn b ovr in 10
???
gn ttyt
Tumblr media
hey, sorry. called it early.
wyd?
nothing much. you?
nm running some mtchs
cool, cool. you able to swing by today?
yeh b there in 30 :)
Tumblr media
In hindsight, trying to have this conversation with Jungkook face to face isn’t the brightest idea. But if anything, last night showed you every choice you’ve made lately is a disaster waiting to happen.
Your life’s already a mess - and you’re hopelessly in love with a man that’ll never love you back - so what’s another mistake added to a long string of misfortune.
So what if your hands tremble and your stomach churns as you unlock the door to let him in.
So what if he leans in for a kiss and you duck to the side, his lips brushing the slope of your cheek.
So what if he pauses and gives you a long, searching look before toeing off his shoes and offering you the drink he picked up on the way.
It can’t get any worse, right?
Only the hungry, molten mixture of rage and rebellion fueling you thus far fizzles away the minute you see him head towards your bedroom with a wink.
Anguish and despair follows in its wake, nipping at your heels.
This is all you’ll ever be to him, you remind yourself as you step into the room. A fun time. Nothing serious. You have to break it off.
You shoot him a tight smile. “Did you have a good night?”
Jungkook shrugs, glancing around at the decorations littering your dresser. “Nah, not really.” His gaze slides to you, traveling from your head to your bare toes in a slow once over. “I definitely would’ve had a better time with you.”
Swallowing roughly, you rub your hands over your arms and suddenly feel far too naked - exposed in your light summer dress. “Hah,” you intone without humor, awkward and stilted. “Probably not. I was out by 11:30.”
“Mm, that’s not like you.” Jungkook hums, moving forward until he’s right in front of you. His hands reach for you, grabbing your wrists gently. His thumb strokes over your pulse point. “You’re acting weird. Is there something you want to talk about, baby?”
Of course he’d notice.
It would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. Jungkook always pays attention to the details, makes leaps of logic based on little more than quiet observations.
You stitch together a chuckle. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”
His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins, his lip ring dimpling the swell of his bottom lip. Your chests brush with every inhale, sharing space and breath. 
“Nothing,” he agrees.
It’s torture. It’s too intimate.
The glow of your overhead lamp highlights the sweep of his cheekbones, the curl of his lashes as he blinks slow and happy. The barely there impression of his body is too much.
You shrink back, clearing your throat.
“No, don’t do that. Where are you going?”
His eyes, shimmering with warmth, plead with you to stay, his shoulders curving towards you. A large palm settles over your shoulder, sparks igniting wherever he touches.
“Stop hiding. You can talk to me about anything. Come on, I want to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”
Steeling your resolve, you inhale and exhale with a shudder. His expression is open, soft. You know it won’t last, and take a few seconds to commit how he looks in this moment to memory.
For all you know, this will be one of the last times you’ll be this close to him again. At least until you can beat your feelings into submission.
And then you can’t put it off anymore, unable to take the ginger strokes of his fingers. The calming caresses as if he thinks you’re something precious. Quick like ripping off a band-aid, otherwise the words will never get past the bend of your throat.
“I want to stop.”
You catch the way his eyes darken, sharpen in the dim overhead light. He knows exactly what you’re talking about, but his half-smile never falters.
Of course, he refuses to make this easy on you. To acknowledge this is happening. He’s always been a greedy man; wants what he can’t have, and destroys what he does.
“Stop what?” Jungkook says. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, baby.”
“Kook,” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “You know what I mean. I just - I can’t do,” your voice cracks, a hand motioning to the space between you, “this anymore.”
A vein throbs on the side of his neck, his jaw working in response. Muscles tense and release with every grit of his teeth. He asks, “You gonna tell me why, huh? Or are you just going to ditch me and act like it didn’t mean something?”
“Kook…”
There’s a certain grief that can’t be spoken, gnarled roots burrowing deep in your chest. A sense of loss so keenly felt it almost steals your breath.
You wish this wasn’t happening, you wish you could take it all back but this pantomime of a relationship isn’t fair to you. Not anymore. And you knew this conversation wouldn’t be fun, but Jungkook’s staunch denial still manages to surprise you.
“It didn’t mean anything though,” you say.
At least, not to you, you think. To me, it meant the world.
-- And that’s the problem.
You need to stop whatever this is between you from building. He’s already shown he doesn’t share your desire for more in a multitude of ways. He’s been avoiding you for a reason, whether he was consciously aware of your feelings or not.
Undoubtedly, you trust him with your life but not your heart.
As sweet as he is, has been, he won’t treat it gently. Not through any intentional ill-will but because he can’t contain his own commitment issues let alone make room for yours.
It’s better this way.
Let what you have - had - stay a memory unmarred by the ugliness of your hurt feelings and bitter disappointments.
Jungkook’s shoulders draw up towards his ears, his gaze glacial as his hands slide away from you. “Is there a reason you’re done with me now?”
Shadows lurk in the depths of his eyes, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Everything about him looks weighted down.
“Well, is there? I mean, shit, I think I’ve earned an answer after all the time we spent together.”
Your heart breaks for him, everything in you calling out to close the gap and offer him comfort. But you can’t. You don’t trust yourself to touch him without wanting more than your heart can bear.
“I’m not done with you,” you say. “I would never do that to you, Kook. I just - I can’t be with you like that anymore, that’s all. I need space but I’ll still be around, I promise.”
The glare he shoots your way freezes the blood in your veins. “Cut the bullshit,” he snarls. “Tell.me.why.”
You avert your gaze, arms wrapping around your chest. “Why does that - I -”
You only had one rule at the very beginning of this mess: if there’s someone you’re serious about, you stop fucking. It comes as a handy lie - a believable excuse that’ll stop any further questioning.
You don’t think you have the fortitude if Jungkook keeps pressing you, cracking under the weight of your grief and the anger in his eyes like fine china.
“I think I - I think I want to start looking for a boyfriend again.”
An expression flashes across his face, there and gone in the blink of an eye. But there’s no doubt he recognizes it for the goodbye it’s supposed to be.
This is it, you think.
You can put what you had to rest and move on, a memory on a shelf you’ll dust off years down the line when the hurt isn’t so prevalent. And hopefully, with time, you can relearn how to be friends.
Though the strange gleam to his eyes sends a prickle of apprehension down your spine, and then you find yourself being manhandled as he snaps forward like a snake coiled to strike.
Air flees your lungs as Jungkook shoves you with a firm palm, your feet stumbling over themselves as you trip backwards into your bed frame.
Wood knocks into the backs of your knees, and you fold like a stack of cards. The sheets puff out around you, the scent of your laundry detergent tickling your nose.
You blink at the textured ceiling, mouth agape as you try to process what happened.
The empty space above you doesn’t stay vacant, Jungkook quickly crowding you into the mattress with his weight as he settles over top of your body.
He molds himself to your front, his firm hips slotting themselves between your thighs. Broad palms, warm and calloused, skim your sides and ruck up the skirt of your dress as he reaches under you to grip the soft globes of your ass.
He yanks you into him, your pelvises slotting together. You whine before you can stop yourself, eyes fluttering shut at the heat of his body.
Teeth scrape along the delicate skin of your neck, the sharp pricks of pleasure-pain coaxing a shiver down your spine.
Lips brush the shell of your ear, his minty breath puffing against the side of your face as he speaks, low and husky, “So that’s it, huh?”
“What--!”
Teeth nip your earlobe, and you wince.
“My girl thinks she’s going to leave me for someone else?” Jungkook snorts. “Like I’d ever let that fucking happen.”
“I’m not your girl.”
You squirm, a bolt of awareness slicing through you as your body responds to his proximity, the weight of him over you electrifying. Liquid desire blooms behind your navel, uncomfortable and unwelcome.
“I never was.”
Blunt nails dig into the fat of your ass, and a cruel mouth latches onto the corner of your jaw. “Ah, is that right?” Jungkook asks, the rumble of his voice vibrating through your torso, your nipples tightening as they drag over the plains of his chest. “You’re not my girl?”
You swallow, and ignore the throb of your clit as the line of his cock ruts into you. “I’m not your girl, Jungkook.”
“If you’re not my girl,” he grinds into the cradle of your hips, teasing - taunting, “then why the fuck are you so wet?”
Keening, you twitch, involuntarily rocking up into the firm pressure of his shaft. The angle’s just right, spreading your folds beneath the thin cotton of your panties and giving your neglected clit the perfect stimulation.
Exposing your soaked core to the chill of your room as your body warms with mortification.
Jungkook hums in approval, giving the side of your neck a sloppy kiss followed by a stinging nip. “You think some nobody can fuck you better than me?”
“That’s not what I - ffuck!”
Heat pools low in your belly, blood pumping fast. You’re steadily losing control, the aborted rolls of your hips increasing in frequency.
“Answer me.”
A sharp burst of copper floods your mouth, your skin splitting open with how hard you’re chewing on it. Blood clings to the swell of your bottom lip, a ruby red bead you lick away with a nervous tongue.
Sweat dappled your brow, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the molten desire curdling your stomach.
The softness of your body knows the hardness of his, every curve has a matching divot. The heady, pleasant scent of his cologne floods your lungs with every stuttered inhale.
Your senses are overwhelmed as he surrounds you.
“Shit, Kook, please,” you plead, hands tangling in the sheets by your head.
You’re not sure what you’re asking for but at the same time, you’re not sure how you ended up here. Again.
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
This was supposed to be an amenable end to a dubious affair. It’s anything but.
“I want you to tell me who your cunt belongs to.”
Fingers inch down to tease along the soft flesh of your inner thighs, and play with the elastic of your panties.
You tremble, gooseflesh dimpling the exposed skin of your arms as knuckles brush over the length of your soaked pussy.
Your clit pulses, the pressure enough to tease.
“Come on, baby,” Jungkook coaxes, working his way beneath the fabric clinging to your core, “tell me you’re my girl.”
His cock nestles into the crook of your hip, hot and heavy through his jeans as a darkened patch blooms across the denim crotch. The sticky wetness of his pre-cum smearing into your skin as arousal swells, crashing over you.
Leaving you a whimpering, trembling mess in the cage of his arms.
“You just have to say it - say you’re my girl and I’ll be so, so good to you.” His breath warms the shell of your ear. “All you have to do is say it, and I’ll make you cum so hard you see stars.”
Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to cobble together a response, sliding a thick finger through your sticky folds and into your needy pussy just as your lips part.
All words leave you, your mind wiped clean as a low, broken cry echoes out into the room. Swallowed up by the sounds of city life outside your apartment as he works to stretch you open.
You clamp down at the sudden fullness, walls tight and fluttering around his finger like they would be around his cock.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You always feel so soft and wet.”
Whining in agreement, you give up any pretense of resistance, letting primal desire chase away the despair, the guilt that threatens to choke you. Wiping your mind clean of any thoughts until the only thing that remains is the thrust of his fingers and the ache in your cunt.
Your hands slip, scrambling for purchase with sweaty palms. “J-Jungkook!”
Your knees tremble where they dig into his sides, air rushing from you in heavy pants as the space between your bodies heats up. You know you won’t last long, already hanging on the edge.
Never in a million years did you expect to be so turned on by Jungkook’s rough behavior. He usually treats you like something delicate.
Though he holds no such compunction now, raw in his desperate desire to make you cum.
Jungkook peppers kisses onto whatever skin he can reach, spreading your thighs wider with his torso. His knuckles strain against the fabric of your panties, stretching out the cotton and ruining them forevermore as he slips another finger into you.
Then his dark head bows, catching your gaze, and he says, “Hold on.”
Barely seconds after you anchor yourself to his shoulders, he starts finger fucking you to within an inch of your life. His forearm ripples with strength, the movements of his fingers pressing and rubbing against all the right spots. Curling up to massage at your g-spot until you’re shaking beneath him with hitched breaths.
“Shit, shit,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as your toes flex against his side, “Kook, baby, please don’t stop.”
He huffs a laugh, dark and amused. “Wouldn’t ever do that to you, baby.”
“S’good - I - I’m close.”
You sob, tears brimming along your lash line. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your pussy ring in your ears, as embarrassing as it is arousing. He’s making you gush, slick wetting your inner thighs, dribbling down your ass to stain the sheets.
“So close, gonna - hnnng - gonna cum.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, baby. Give me that squirt.”
You shake your head. “I can’t - I can’t!”
If you could, you’d suspend time so this moment never ends. The finality of your arrangement hovering just on the other side of pleasure.
In the back of your mind, you know Jungkook’s only behaving this way because he’s jealous. Angry. He doesn’t mean it, and this is a mistake.
It’ll only hurt you in the long run but you’ll take what you can get.
After all, this is the last time you’ll be together like this.
“No,” he shushes, dropping a kiss to your sweaty brow, “No, don’t lie. I know you can. I’ll make you.”
There’s no escape.
He refuses to let you escape, using his weight to keep you pinned as he spreads his fingers open inside you, twisting and fucking so deep you feel a twinge behind your navel.
And then you’re right there, crashing over the edge as the bubble of pleasure bursts, crackling through your limbs.
You cum harder than you ever have before. Nails sinking into his shoulders with a hiss as a wounded, broken wail scrapes its way out of your throat.
Your pussy throbs, gummy walls sucking him deeper as a rush of cum gushes from you in spurts. Your ears ring with white noise, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact your hands have gone numb.
For several long moments, you float with a head full of cotton, only rejoining the atmosphere when warmth dribbles down your ass in sticky rivulets of squirt.
Jungkook’s arm is curled around your waist, holding you close as his nose nuzzles into the side of your head. Tender lips dust kisses over your crown. His cock is still a heavy weight digging into your hip but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to relieve himself.
“Jungkook,” you sigh, a wave of fatigue crashing over you. Your eyes sting when you close them, a lump building in your throat. You ache all over pleasantly, satisfaction settling deep into your bones. In spite of that, a rift opens in your heart. “Jungkook, I--”
He kisses your shoulder, shushing you. “Don’t ruin it. Just let me hold you for a little while longer… please.”
The tears are almost impossible to stop. “It’s already hard enough, don’t make me -- I can’t just…”
Jungkook squeezes you gently. “I love you,” he says, “but I swear to god you can be so stupid sometimes.”
You jolt, eyes swinging up to meet his, wide and disbelieving. “What did you just  - I - I  don’t. ..Jungkook?”
“How could I not feel the same?” he asks, tone resigned and wary. “Honestly scared the shit out of me when I realized because, well, y’know I don’t have the best track record.” He averts his gaze, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I almost fucked everything up too, but Namjoonie-hyung helped me get my head on straight.”
Something unfurls in your chest, and you feel as light as air. Ridiculously buoyant with happiness. Hope.
Oh, how stupid.
“We’re kind of idiots, aren’t we?” you ask, sniffling as you shoot him a watery smile. “Like… the biggest.”
Jungkook hums in agreement, a boyish gleam to his eyes. “I mean, you said it. Not me.”
2K notes · View notes
ohcorny · 5 months ago
Text
i reread all of chobits recently as insp for my next TT book and every time i think about some aspect of it all i want to do is rip it open and tear it apart and go "why?". it brings up so many concepts and scenarios within the premise of "what if computers looked like pretty girls" but it doesn't want to commit to saying anything about it or take its own world seriously.
i have a lot to say about chobits. arguably i have more to say about chobits than even chobits wants to say about chobits.
chobits is about sex except it isn't about sex at all. chi's power switch is in her vagina. we're shown images of chi doing sexy things, she gets tricked into doing a strip tease, and two separate men try to finger her and she does her Do Not Touch Me There magic powers thing, and we eventually learn every time she resets from the power button, her memories are erased, so you can't have sex with her without deleting her.
but we never unpack why her reset button is in her vagina, or why it's so important that nobody can ever touch her, or why people's personal computers were built with vaginas in the first place (we never have it confirmed that all persocoms have them, but that two separate men try to touch her there imply it's expected). why do the personal computers shaped like women have vaginas if not to fuck them. as a product, it is expected that you will fuck them*.
*i assume, because the comic never says so!
the man who invented persocoms is the same person who built chi and her sister, and he built them to be daughters for his wife. he put the reset button in chi's vagina. we never find out why. we never get a HINT of why. he built the chobits so they could feel and fall in love, but also built them so they could never fuck. you can extrapolate a reason why a man might build his daughter-androids that way, but the series itself never touches it, and never makes any sort of point about it. it's just presented as an immutable fact that chi can't fuck without it deleting her, as if it was born of happenstance and not a person's choice.
what does that actually say about anything? what is it trying to say about sex? is it about the commodification of female bodies, how once they're used up sexually they're worthless? that if you can't love somebody without fucking them, what good is your love? that love without sex is okay (but also a huge burden and sacrifice a man must accept for the sake of someone else's happiness?)
what does it want to say! chobits is about sex, but it doesn't want to commit to any specific message about sex.
and that's just ONE issue i have with it. there are so many things chobits wants to be about but won't say anything about. it wants to be about the persocoms replacing human connections, we constantly get told 'gee people hang out with persocoms a lot', chitose publishes a whole inexplicable book series about people preferring persocomes to humans. it's to the degree that a prominent character's husband gets So wrapped up in (presumably) fucking his android that he locks his actual wife out of the house, having just straight up forgotten she exists. we don't have anything to say about it though. she falls in love with a new man. the people who hang out with their persocoms too much are all background characters in crowds. we never look at how the rise in persocoms has affected society as a whole.
it wants to be about grief, in the story about the man who marries a persocom and has to watch her slowly degrade until she can't remember him anymore, or the kid whose older sister died and he tried to replace her with a persocom who he dresses up/treats as a maid and lives alone with despite being omega orphaned and 11 years old. but then it's fine. the man who married a persocom gets in a relationship with a high school girl 20 years younger than him (CLAMP!). it's fine! the boy who tried to replace his older sister just accepts that the persocom replacement won't replace her. still treats/dresses her up like a maid and lives alone. is she his legal guardian. i don't know. don't worry about it.
and it wants to be about women, because everything about the story is about women, all the persocoms are women, all the tragedies are wrapped up in the death of a woman, or a woman's heartbreak, or a woman's feelings. but it has fucking nothing to say about women beside look how pretty they are. my boobs are E cup, sempai :) teehee
it makes me insane.
friend @amphiaria put it best as "Unfortunately the story is uninterested in itself" and i can never forgive it for being so aesthetically good, giving us the best design for an android (the ear things are Perfect) and then being So Fucking Bad.
in conclusion:
Tumblr media
662 notes · View notes
corkinavoid · 4 months ago
Text
DPxDC Afterlife, But It's A Bar
[discontinued, feel free to add on]
It was weird. Not wrong, alarming or dangerous type of weird. Not good or comforting either.
Just plain weird.
It all started a few days ago, on Wednesday, to be exact. On a rare occasion, Jason was patrolling outside of his territory ("cover for me, I have a date" my ass, Replacement), and he spotted something out of place. A neon green, almost toxic colored sign that read "Afterlife".
Honestly, who names a place like that? But judging by the placement and design, it was a bar, and Jason could almost appreciate the irony. Maybe it had a slogan along the lines of "our drinks will send you beyond the lines of life and death" or something. But at the same time, it could be interpreted as "alcohol can and will be the death of you," which, technically, is not the best PR campaign for a bar.
Jason decided to visit the place anyway. He was curious about the implied death joke, sue him.
Of course, he didn't visit immediately. He was still on patrol, and he just heard the sound of gunshots to the west. Not to say that the place was quiet.
(Oddly quiet for a bar in Gotham, now that he thinks about it)
Anyway, the next day, he went there not as Red Hood but as Jason Todd, an ordinary civilian who decided to grab a beer in the evening. Only to not find the place.
He couldn't have just miss it - he remembered the street, he knew the building, he was absolutely fucking sure where the "Afterlife" should have been. He searched the whole block nonetheless, and then proceeded to check the whole area, but to no avail.
Damn, it seems like he can't get to the afterlife both literally and- the other literally. Yeah, he might be having too much fun with the oddly chosen name for the nonexistent bar.
It didn't exist on the maps and internet either. At this point, Jason was contemplating the idea of it being a hallucination or a dream. He even checked the recording on his helmet from Wednesday night, but the whole time he was in the area, the video was filled with interference and static.
Weird. Slightly suspicious, but Red Robin, who's been patrolling the same area for weeks before him, never reported any interferences, so it probably had something to do with his helmet and not the area in general.
On Thursday night, he purposefully went there right after patrol. And the nonexistent bar suddenly existed again! The same neon green sign, the same quiet street around it.
Seriously, what is this mysterious fuckery?
Now, if he was a Bat, he would have reported this to others and investigated, lurked around in shadows, and approached with caution. If he was a Robin, he would have still reported and then straight up marched in there and saw how it goes.
Alas, he was Red Hood, so he decided to watch for the bar guests and see just who the hell goes in and out of the place.
And there was the next weird thing.
No one was going in or out. Jason sat there for a whole hour, and not even one person entered or left the building. Despite the muffled sounds of music, voices and laughter coming from the place.
The final kicker was the fact that after some careful questioning and dropping hints, Jason found out that no one except him ever saw the "Afterlife"'s sign. No one's even heard of it, both the Batclan and the Gothamites.
The fuck?
So he did the next logical thing. He brought the smartest member of the Bats with him. Tim owed him anyway. Might as well use it now instead of later.
Friday night proved two things: one, Tim was still his favorite to work with out of all the bats and birds, not questioning anything as to why Jason is asking him to check out a bar, and two, Jason just might be going insane.
Tim couldn't see the "Afterlife" even when Jason pointed at the sign from not further than ten feet. The irony of the stipid name was not even amusing anymore.
Tim didn't ask any questions after this experiment, and Jason didn't want to admit that he is losing the grip of reality, so they ended up simply parting their ways after. Can the Pits cause brain damage? More damage than there was in the first place, that is.
Now that he thinks about it, the color of the sign is really similar to the Lazarus waters. He should have noticed it sooner, but in his defense, who would look at the bubbling pool of toxic waters and think, "Oh, that would make a dope neon sign"? Apparently, the owner of the "Afterlife".
The color might be just a coincidence.
...no, in the world he lives in, coincidences like this just don't happen. Besides, Jason doesn't believe in shit like fate or destiny.
So, here he is, on Saturday night, standing in front of the door to the Afterlife. It would have been funny if it wasn't so weird. What's even more weird is that the closer he gets to the door, the less nervous he feels, like the place is radiating some calming aura. Wait, no, scratch that, Jason is so not calling it a calming aura for God's sake. That sounds just like those homemade witches with their crystals, tarot readings, and whatnot.
He's going to call it... tranquilizer vibes. Yeah, that's better.
He takes a deep breath, getting ready to see whatever it is on the other side, pushes the door open, and walks into the bar.
...
Whatever he's been expecting to see, it's not this.
767 notes · View notes
marypaol · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Skin To Skin
Draco Malfoy x fem!reader
Summary: The aftermath of Draco knowing who his soulmate is, yet he can’t bear to face her.
Warnings: Teasing, Boggarts, mention of fears, mention of the Hospital Wing, the Weasley twins being themselves, etc.
Note: This is Part 2 of “Copy Of A Copy”, so check it out before you read this! (And I’m sorry if this one is bad)
Copy Of A Copy
Masterlist
Request Reauirements
This person believed in me so here you go! : @theomalfoy
Tumblr media
Draco wasn’t the want-everything-to-go-back-to-the-way-it-was-after-complaining-about-it-type.
Well, that’s what he kept telling himself.
But he knew deep down that he did want everything to go back to the way they were, because every time he looked at his hand, that deep red spot of irritated skin was slowly fading away and he wanted to find a reason to create it again.
She’d stopped drawing. And normally Draco would find that a good thing; now he didn’t have to harshly wipe them off and be left an embarrassing red spot on his hand. But he found himself thinking back on how the drawings actually looked good, despite him being annoyed at the fact they repeatedly showed up on his skin, and he wanted them back. Which, of course, sounds ridiculous if you were to look back on how he acted towards the other drawings that previously showed up on his hand.
But he missed it. Missed watching the lines form one by one, letting him know she existed. He even couldn’t get the image of her face out of his mind, ever since he saw her in Care of Magical Creatures. He couldn’t help but think she was decently pretty.
Tumblr media
Draco’s hand has unwanted sweat on it so he harshly wiped it on his robes, a disgusted expression lying on his lips. He knew the reason for the sweat though, his quill once again hovering over his skin, the same skin he used to aggressively rub almost everyday as his soulmate drew mindless doodles on her hand.
He dipped the quill tip in the ink, the noises of everyone scattering about being the last thing on his mind, in fact the occasional “SHH!” from Madam Irma Prince was quite helpful to encourage him to focus once the students followed her orders.
He sighed softly, taking a deep breath while staring stupidly at his pale skin he was about to ruin.
He leaned down, the quill tip making contact with his hand two times, forming two dots. Those were eyes, he decided, and drew a straight line below them, making a face that represented him at the moment. His eyes were full yet his lips held uncertainty, hesitant to do this.
Once it was over it didn’t seem so bad anymore, as long as he could manage to hide it from Crabbe and Goyle. The thought of them teasing him about it, teasing him about actually writing back on his skin was unbearable. He could only hope that they don’t stare at his hand.
Tumblr media
“Don’t be scared now, it’s just a Boggart.” Professor Lupin explained, his wand held with two hands, a grip on each end.
“Now, Boggarts like tight dark places, and I found this one in the wardrobe yesterday. I asked Dumbledore if we could use it for the lesson and thankfully he said yes. Now, does anyone know what a Boggart looks like?”
The usual hand of Hermione Granger was shot up at the speed of lightning, and once she was called on, she answered not only the right answer but was awarded points for her House.
“No one knows, sir. It takes form of the deepest fear of whomever it faces.”
“Correct, Ms. Granger.” Lupin said, smiling while Granger went slightly pink.
Draco rolled his eyes, irritation seeming to be boiling within them.
“But, everyone, we have an advantage against this creature. And that is?”
“There’s so many of us, it doesn’t know what to turn into?” Potter answered, and Lupin replied with a smile, and awarded more points to Gryiffindor.
“Exactly!” Lupin exclaimed. “Now, though, there is a way to get past a Boggart. And that spell is Riddikulus!” Lupin said, doing the hand movement with the one that possessed his wand. “Say it with me now…”
“Riddikulus!” The class said together.
“This class is ridiculous.” Draco mutters under his breath, Crabbe nodding in agreement beside him while he heard a snuffled laugh somewhere near. His head swerved and he spotted the same girl he saw in Hagrid’s class, trying not to smirk at his joke. He found a smirk coming to his own lips, proud of himself.
“They feed on fear, so think of what you fear the most, and turn it into something funny.” Lupin once again explained, and brought up Neville as a demonstration. “Now, Neville, tell me, what do you fear the most?”
“P-professor Snape.” the boy mumbled, having to repeat the same thing again but a little louder since the Professor didn’t hear him.
“Ahh.” Lupin said amusingly once the name was repeated. “I suppose he does intimidate us all in some way.”
There was a pause before Lupin continued to project to the class, for he was having a quiet conversation with the student before him. “Now Neville, I want you to think of your Grandmother’s clothes very clearly in your mind, can you do that?”
Neville nodded, shaking in his shoes. The door opened and Snape stepped out, looking normal as ever like you’d see him everyday but Neville was scared.
“Wand at the ready!” Lupin reminded, Neville held his wand up and squeaked, “Riddikulus!”
Snape seemed to spin around and he soon found himself in Neville Longbottom’s Grandmother’s clothes, a red handbag on his right arm.
The class laughed, Neville’s face slowly turned into an expression of relief.
Draco scoffed basically the whole time, not ending up actually facing the Boggart but watching as his peers did.
Weasley was practically having a seizure as he faced the spider, helplessly whimpering the spell causing the spider to have roller skates, legs swinging everywhere.
Draco couldn’t help but be curious on what the girl’s fear was, but she didn’t end up facing it just like him.
There was an exited buzz in the air as the students left class, each of them wanting recognition for how brave they were while facing their biggest fears.
“-did you see how I faced that snake-”
“-just said the spell and it went, pop!-”
“-the spider was huge!-”
“-never seen that kind of creature before-”
Draco grumbled angrily, grabbing Crabbe and Goyle’s arms and leading them out to the courtyard in front of the Black Lake.
“That was stupid. Why did he let us do that anyway, and for Dumbledore to give permission…wait til by father hears of this.” He mumbled, looking down and adjusting his arm bandages, thinking back when he insulted the Hippogriff. (He still didn’t regret it, the creature did look kinda ugly to him.)
“Right. We should owl him right away.” Crabbe suggested.
Draco looked up from his arm, eyes flaring. “‘We?!’ I’ll do it. It’s my father after all.”
His friends nodded, Crabbe going pink in the ears.
Goyle’s eyes then shot to Draco’s hand. “Ha! What’s that, Malfoy?”
Draco acted confused, and looking down, acted like he’d seen it for the first time. He pretended to look disgusted. “Gross I tell you, I’ll wash it off later.” He said, looking back at them. Both pair of eyes were still on him.
“Well? What are you looking at?” He snarled, and that seemed to do the trick, both heads bending down as they suddenly found interest in the grass.
Tumblr media
“Do this Potion before you leave class, and then a portion of it on my desk with your name on it.”
Snake’s sharp voice echoed through the dark classroom, his gaze seeming to meet all of their eyes before he turned around, adding one last part of his instructions in the black board and heading to his desk, long nose lurking over the surface covered in parchment.
The girl sighed, opening the book to the page instructed and starting to chop the first ingredient. She liked to think of herself good at Potions, but sometimes little things like the reactants would mix up in her mind. But nonetheless if she focused hard enough and followed each step carefully, than she was proud to say that she could do it almost perfectly.
It was only then that she noticed the black markings on the back of her hand, and, looking more closely by bringing up her hand to her face, saw it was a smiley face. It looked smeared a little and the lines were wobbly, but she liked it since she wasn’t the one to draw it.
Scurrying through her bag pretending she was looking for something important, grabbed a quill and dipped it in another student’s ink when they weren’t looking. Then, turning back to her hand and covering it behind her cauldron so the nosy Professor wouldn’t see, drew two eyes next to his, a soft smile beneath it to show her gratitude. He didn’t do much, just too dots and a line, but the reason was all that mattered to her.
She just knew that he missed her somewhat forms of affection, so he acted upon himself to continue it.
Tumblr media
“Ridiculous, I tell you, why’d he look at me like that? The audacity of some peop-”
“Sorry.”
Draco didn’t realize he ran into someone else, too busy rambling to himself about an annoying First Year who glared at him out of nowhere to notice his body ran into another. It ended up being a Third Year Hufflepuff, quickly scurrying around the corner to avoid the Slytherin.
Draco rolled his eyes, turning back to the direction he was going and continuing to walk to the Common Room. He muttered the password, climbing into the space full of couches and chairs, all in front of a burning fire, flames high and bright, full of color.
He sat down on one of the chairs, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to get back from the Hospital Wing; the Weasley twins caught them in the hallway, convinced them to eat some candy, and now their faces were covered in red dots that got bigger by the second. Malfoy simply rolled his eyes at the news when Madame told him before making his way to the room.
He currently sat with a Potions book in his hands, long fingers running across the pages that helped his eyes read it better.
He turned the page, but the page he turned got caught on his robes, and, using his left hand, went to fix it before he froze. On his left wrist, he had another smile face beside the one he drew, this one with an actual smile this time not a straight line like his.
He fought a grin that was threatening to pull the corners of his lips, reaching over to pull his robe sleeve over it so no one could see.
-Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!
Person I think would like this: @dunningz :)
806 notes · View notes
lucyrose191 · 1 year ago
Text
PROTECTIVE SHIELD| K.RÄIKKÖNEN
Pairing: Protective!Kimi x Sunshine!driver!reader
Summary; You always have a smile on your face, even through the struggles of being the only female driver but when it feels like the entire media is against you it’s hard to keep that smile on your face but Kimi won’t allow it to disappear, he’s always there protecting you.
Warnings; fluff, mistreatment of women
F1 Master List
Tumblr media
You had fought to get in the position you were in today and you had done it all with a smile on your face. It was easy back then, when there was less attention on you and less people questioning your every decision or underestimating your talent compared to the other drivers on the grid simply because you weren’t a man.
You were known for your smile, the way it was always present with everyone you spoke to and no matter the question you were asked but people seemed to take it as an invitation to say whatever they wanted as though it had no affect on you.
It didn’t in the beginning.
But as each of the questions piled on top of each other, the strain made it harder to maintain the smile, your struggle was hard to notice because you did such a good job of hiding it but one person did.
Kimi Räikkönen.
Whilst he was quiet, he was observant.
To him only a fool would think your smile was real. There was clearly such a huge difference between you being happy and you pretending to be happy.
There were no more sparkles in your eyes or twitch of your nose and it enraged him.
It was infuriating, knowing that the journalists and media had managed to ruin the pureness in you.
He wasn’t going to allow them to destroy you of everything you were.
You normally didn’t mind the driver’s press conferences but lately they’ve been…. hard.
The questions lately have hardly been about driving, instead about your possible challenges against the other drivers or if you feel as though you’re at a disadvantage.
You don’t. You’ve said countless times that you don’t feel the need to be treated differently in any sense and that you being female added no extra struggles in your opinion.
It seemed the tipping point for Kimi with these questions was when a female journalist asked not only peculiar but disturbing question.
You smiled at the woman as she stood up, thinking you’d get a real question about driving but that smile soon faded as she opened her mouth.
"Hi, this is a question for Y/N. As a woman, I was curious as to whether it’s more difficult for you to finish a race during the time of the month when you’re menstruating?"
You hated it. You hated that just because they’re a woman they think it excuses the questions they’re asking.
Beside you Kimi scoffed loudly, the most noise he’d made during the entire conference. "What sort of fucking question is that?" He stared straight into the woman’s eyes with a face as hard as ice.
The woman seemed taken back by him and started stuttering. "I-well-I was just-"
Kimi shook his head "We’ve been sat in these chairs for half an hour and not a single one of you imbeciles has asked her a real fucking question about the car or the race. All of you have sat there and just questioned her ability to do her job as if any of you know a thing about racing."
Kimi stood up from his seat and gestured for you to get up as well from where you were sitting in pure shock, lips parted and eyes wide you did and followed him out of the room, ignoring the fact that you weren’t meant to be leaving any time soon.
He was raging, he had sat and watched as your smile dimmed with each question; anger building inside until he just couldn’t keep it to himself anymore.
You had to run to catch up with him, he was walking so fast, fuelled by his anger. Your body was still in shock from the way he had spoken and stood up for you but you caught his arm which caused his footsteps to pause.
You looked up at him in silence for a moment, contemplating what to say as he looked down at you with those piercing blue eyes.
"You didn’t have to do that," you settled on saying.
Kimi huffed, glancing away for a short minute before returning his gaze back to you. "I did, I wasn’t going to sit and let them speak to you like that, you deserve better."
You shrugged and smiled weakly "It’s how it’s always been, they’re not going to change and I’ve accepted that."
"You shouldn’t need to," he argued before grumbling under his breath and reaching out to cup your cheeks, keeping his gaze locked with yours. "They’re taking away your smile and I’m not going to let them. You’re beautiful and your smile is beautiful, I’m not letting them take that away from you."
You blinked up at him in shock whilst trying to process his words, raising your own hands up to wrap around his wrists to keep his in place.
Eventually, you smiled and leaned into his touch. "Thank you."
He gave you that half smile you knew so well before pulling you into his embrace "Don’t listen to anything they say, they don’t know you."
You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let them knock you down, not when you had Kimi there to stand in front of you like a protective shield or hold your hand as you walked through the media storm.
You could do anything with him beside you, you could even keep your smile.
2K notes · View notes
merchelsea · 5 months ago
Text
i can take it — logan sargeant
pairing: logan sargeant x girlfriend!vowles!reader
summary: she finds out about what her father (her boyfriend’s team manager) has been doing to him.
author’s note: i know it has all been denied by logan himself but i wanted to do it anyways. DO NOT TAKE IT AS A FACT OR TRUE EVENT.
word count: 1k
warnings: idk if there's any cursing, not proofread, sad logan, kind of daddy issues (?)
masterlist | requests
Tumblr media
you were at home, laying down on the couch watching a show while you waited for hunger. everything you had to do was already done and dinner was ready, but you weren’t hungry to eat it.
you were tired, tho. you could easily go to sleep right now, but you knew better than to go to sleep without eating first.
that was when your phone started to ring and your best friend’s name appeared on the screen.
you stopped the show and picked up the call, putting it on speaker.
“hi?” you stretched your body on the couch.
“hey, have you talked to logan recently?” she asked, going straight to the point.
you could notice in her voice some kind of worry.
“hm, yeah… why?”
“and your dad?” she asked again.
“what? no, not really.” you answered, not sure about what was going on.
“open up twitter, babe.” her voice sounded alarmed. “i think you might want to do this on your own, i’ll hang up now.”
you simply hummed a goodbye and started to see the panic on your twitter mentions.
everyone knew about you and logan by now, so you were not surprised with all the tags from his fans, but it seemed like they needed explanations on a certain allegation.
“what the fuck?” you screamed as you saw the caption of a podcast, your mind going red immediately.
it’s like you were only capable of feeling anger.
that’s when you threw the blanket you had over your body away and got up. not caring about your clothing, that was just a pj, you got to your keys and left the house.
getting in your car, you drove as fast as legally possible to get to your father’s office.
while driving, your mind recalled everything you had learned about your boyfriend’s situation in williams.
a friend of a friend of logan told on a podcast that your boyfriend wasn’t even having fun in the team anymore. that was happening because of your father. apparently, the older vowles wasn’t giving logan the feedback he needed anymore and they were not on speaking terms.
you know how you say good morning to everyone? yeah, not even that.
you were more than pissed about all of this. you could understand that your father no longer had faith in logan, you did not agree with him but you could comprehend. but not even speaking to him? this was another level of childishness.
you got to your dad’s office in a matter of minutes and immediately asked to talk to him. you were told to wait, but, impatiently, crossed the building until you reached his room on your own and didn’t even bother to knock before going in and slamming the door behind you.
“what the fuck is this about?” you threw your phone on his table, an article opened.
“what?” vowles asked, a puzzled expression on his face. he started to read and his expression went from confused to worried in mere seconds.
“you are using silence treatment on logan?” you asked, disbelief clear in your voice. he sighed as he supported his head with his hands. “you can not do this to a driver”
another sigh.
you wanted him to say it was all a misunderstanding, that maybe this person was wrong or even lying. but you were just hurt when he spoke again.
“oh… this.” he finally looked up at you. “what do you want me to do? pretend i’m proud of the american like i don’t regret having him in my team?” all you wanted to do in that moment was punch your father in the face. it was so not fair.
“you’re being childish.” you pointed out.
he angrily looked over at you, as if you were in the wrong. as if he was the one who had to explain how you were wrong and why.
“he’s not talented enough for f1, y/n.” you were already angry, but when you heard your own father talk about the man you loved that way you completely lost it.
you could not care less about how loud you were being. maybe it wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but calling your father and imbecile felt pretty damn good.
“how the fuck is he supposed to deliver good results when he doesn’t have a clue about what’s going on?” you asked, honestly waiting for an answer before you started speaking again because the man in front of you was speechless. “the car isn’t good and the team isn’t good. you’re ruining it even more. he is talented and you know that, you just want to blame him for YOUR OWN mistakes.”
everything you had been holding in for some time, just because he was your father, was finally out. it should feel better than it did. you should feel way better than you did.
“that’s not true. and you should be ashamed of your little boyfriend for spreading things like this around.”
you couldn’t comprehend where this attitude came from. i guess you could really see how money changed people.
this was not the man you looked up to. this was not the father you wanted to be like when you were younger. and you had no problem of saying to his face that he had failed as a father.
“if there’s anything i’m ashamed of, is being your daughter.” you heard him start to complain, but you're already out the door when a proper word came out of his mouth. you rushed outside, too tired to fake smiles to people around you.
you needed to find logan. that was the only thing in your head.
tears already filled your eyes when you started the car, and you couldn't see properly, because of them, the whole way.
but you never gave in, none of them fell from your eyes until you were at his door and he looked at you, worry stamped on his eyes.
"hey? baby?" his hands rushed to the side of your face to make you look at him.
you couldn't help but notice how selfless he was. that made your heart sink. the way he always worried about other people first, even when he is in the worst position possible.
"i hate you." you let out, in a cry, and let your arms circle his body, pulling him to yourself.
logan let go of your face to pull you inside, and closer to him. he was as confused as one could be. and the circumstances he was put in during the day did not help him.
"baby, please tell me what's going on." he asked once your grip over him loosened and he could look at your face again.
"my dad..." logan's heart skiped a beat. he knew the older vowles disliked him, but he never thought he could actually put himself between you and logan. he was desperate to know the rest now. "what he's doing to you, that's so not right. so not fair." you finished, and heard your boyfriend let out a relieved sigh.
he was actually happy that it was about the whole williams situation, and not your dad poisoning your mind.
"baby." the driver starts, but his face tells you he doesn't regret not telling you. that doesn't anger you, like you thought it would. it actually makes you fall in love with him a little more.
"you never said anything, you stupid american." he couldn't help a chuckle at the nickname and you punched him in the chest. he realized just how serious you were about this and guilt rose in his chest.
"i didn't want you to worry, y/n."
his blue eyes were a little darker because of the lighting but you could still see the pain in them.
formula one was his dream as a kid, as a teenager and as an adult. he fought like hell to get there, and even when things got tight, he never gave up. you knew all about the financial struggles that would've ended his dream if it wasn't for williams.
they noticed his talent and helped him get to better categories of the sport he loved so dearly. and the boy? he loved that team and was so thankfull for them that it actually hurt you. your father actually helped ruining his path at formula one and still, that boy stood loyal and helped the team and his teammate in everything. standing by their calls and decisions even when they jeopardized his races.
"logan, i should've known about this from the start." you knew you could've done something for him if you knew about the situation sooner. maybe if you had talked to your dad, bringing some sense into that old head of his. anything but let this circus keep going until it reached this point. "what they're doing to you... it's so unfair."
"but i can take it, love." he smiled softly at you and you almost felt the urge to punch him. how could he think so low of himself that he didn't see how much he didn't deserve that treatment.
"i know you can, the thing is you shouldn't have to. let alone go through it on your own." you said in a higher voice, capturing all his attention. "logan do you realize that you're not having fun racing? you said it yourself." tears were no longer falling out of your eyes, and the ones on your face were starting to disappear. "you have loved this sport ever since you were born, and they are ruining it for you."
"i know that." he almost screamed. he was quick to apologize with his eyes, but you couldn't care less about the tone he was using. you wanted him to be angry, you needed him to let everything out. "i hate it all, y/n. but it's my dream to be where i am today."
"i know, logan. and that's what makes me more upset. their ruining your dream and you're smiling through it, letting it happen."
"i'm not 'letting it happen'." he said, hesitating a little. "i'm just... maybe if i did things a little better, i would not be in this situation but i didn't. and i have to deal with it." your expression softened and you let out a sigh.
"it kills me that you think that this is your fault." he started tearing up and you pulled him to yourself. he hid his face in your neck and you gently stroked the back of his head. "it's not your fault, baby. you are doing amazing for someone with so many difficulties."
you took your time in each others arms, calming down while feeling the touch of the person you loved.
"i'm sorry that i never told you. but it's your dad and i needed you by my side." he pushed himself back to look you in the eye. "i don't know if i could do it without you."
you were still not over everything he had told you, and would definitely come back to the topic sooner, but right now what mattered most to you was that logan felt loved and appreciated.
he was already going through a lot, and it killed you to see the man you loved like that.
"you will never have to worry about that because i'm here, logan. and i love you, always."
with his face in your hands, you leaned closer and peck his lips. that's enough for him to remember everything he was fighting for. he had to fight for himself. and with you by his side, he believed it was possible.
"i love you too, always." he leaned his forhead against yours. "thank you."
497 notes · View notes
tibby-art · 6 months ago
Note
i am straight up on my hands and knees BEGGING for more hitman au
crazy that you mention that actually because i did write another snippet a little while ago.. here’s a doodle i did to accompany it + the writing under the cut
Tumblr media
=+=
Grian gazed out the window of the bus, soaking in the quiet evening of the city. It had been some time since he was out in public like this, since he had felt like a normal citizen going about her daily buisness. It was nice to be outside the NHO headquarters for once, free to do what she pleased. Well, sort of.
Grian wasn’t exactly free. He was allowed some free time out when there was no training, lab visits, or missions. However, she was only allowed outside the NHO with a bodyguard. Someone who could both protect him from the overstimulation of the outside world, as well as protect others from her… if he were to ever lose control of his powers, or something.
Yes, riding the bus with a former-criminal-turned-professional-hitman certainly made the whole experience feel less normal for Grian.
“It’s nice to take public transportation once in a while,” Scar mused, stretching his arms over his head. “Us vexes don’t get to do that much anymore, when we can just fly around wherever we need to go.”
“That must be so much better, though,” Grian pointed out. “You can fly wherever you want, and you don’t even have to pay the bus fare.”
“Let me tell you, Grian, flying can be so tiring,” Scar huffed. “Sometimes I’m so tired by the time we show up to a hit, we need to take a breather on the roof for a few minutes. The NHO should just let us have a car for the long missions, for goodness’ sake!”
Grian did a quick check of his surroundings. The bus was pretty empty this time of day, but she got no sense that any of the passengers were paying attention to Scar so casually talking about being a hitman. A brief tap into watcher vision didn’t show any movement from the passengers behind her, either.
“Cub’s in much better shape than me,” Scar rambled on. “Did you know that man was a professional basketball player once? Or was it golf…? Actually, I think it was both.”
The NHO didn’t deem it too urgent to send both their prized hitmen on Grian-watching duty, so Cub had stayed behind at the headquarters. Last time Grian had seen Cub, he was showing off a ring of keys to Scar, saying how he was going to get a lot of ‘research’ done that night.
“What are those keys for?” Grian asked.
“Don’t know yet,” Cub shrugged. “That’s part of the fun”.
“So… those aren’t your keys?”
Cub and Scar just grinned at her.
“….This is our stop,” Grian said.
The pair exited the bus. The Hermit City library stood before them.
“Library, huh?” Scar asked. “Do you have some overdue books from before you became a watcher or something?”
“Not so loud,” Grian scolded, glancing around a mostly empty city street. “But, no. Speaking of… that, I wanted to see if there were any books I could find on the subject.”
Scar raised an eyebrow. “Do you think a public library would have better information than what we have at the NHO?”
Grian shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”
The library was pretty empty at this time of day. In fact, they probably closed in an hour or so. Grian had deliberately chosen a time of day where less people would be around, so that the trip was less overwhelming on his new senses. Scar had complained that he wasn’t a morning person, so they settled on the evening instead. Grian secretly was also glad she could sleep in a little.
“Geez, when’s the last time I’ve been in one of these?” Scar muttered, glancing at the countless shelves of books as they walked past.
“What, are you allergic to reading?” Grian teased.
“Well, I am dyslexic, so… sort of?”
Grian realized that for a trip to the library to do some research, she probably should have gotten Cub to come. The man literally has two science degrees, after all.
The two made their way to the front desk, where the librarian on duty appeared to be preoccupied… knitting a hand puppet of some kind?
“Well howdy there!” The librarian looked up from his work cheerfully. He had long, brown hair that was dyed neon green at the tips, matching perfectly with her pointed green glasses. “What can I help y’all with?”
“Uh, yes, um.” Grian tapped his fingers on the desk. “We were wondering if you had any books on Watchers, and where they might be?”
“Watchers, huh…” The librarian furrowed their brow. “Now that’s an obscure topic.” He swiveled his chair towards his computer to investigate further. Grian began to grow anxious with how obvious he felt they were being.
“I know, right?” Scar sighed, leaning on the desk casually. “It’s for some lame group project that’s like, a fourth of our final grade in the class.”
“Yikes! That sounds rough,” The librarian remarked as she typed on the computer. Grian tapped into his sixth sense and didn’t pick up on any feelings of suspicion from the librarian. Maybe bringing Scar was a good idea.
“Okay, well, most of these books that are coming up seem to be more on the… fantasy side,” The librarian explained after a moment of scrolling. “I know those guys are mythological beings, but you said you’re doing a research project, so I’m guessing you want something more factual…”
“Yeah, anything with information about where they came from, what they do, stuff like that.” Grian nodded. “Y’know, like if they were real.”
“Oh! Here’s something promising.” The librarian turned the monitor so that Grian and Scar could see. “This book right here seems to be a study of the tales of Watchers throughout history. Although… it looks like our only copy is checked out at the moment.”
“Really?” Grian asked. “By who?”
The librarian blinked. “Hm… y’know, I’m actually not sure if I’m supposed to like, give that information to people? Like, legally?”
“There’s another person in our group project, so we just want to know if they beat us to checking out this book,” Scar lied. “Communication in group projects, am I right?”
“Pff, yeah, that makes sense,” The librarian turned the computer back to face him. “It looks like this book is currently being borrowed by a Martyn. With a y! How fancy.”
“Ah, Martyn with a y, of course!” Scar exclaimed. “Well, now we know that Martyn has the book, right Grian?”
“Yup,” Grian agreed, mind racing.
“Hey, actually…” The librarian scrolled down on the computer some more. “You guys sure got the right person for this project. It looks like this Martyn fella has been checking this book out for a few months now?”
Grian’s eyes widened.
“Ohh, that Martyn,” Scar laughed. “Always getting the head start on things! Uh, did we need anything else, Grian?”
“Um…” Grian needed to think fast. Whoever this Martyn person was, he’s been checking the same book on Watchers out for months. Surely he has to know something about them. Grian had to speak to him. But how on earth were they going to find this person?
Grian focused on the back of the librarian’s computer monitor. For a brief moment, in her mind’s eye, he could see the content of computer screen, from the librarian’s eyes. There on the screen was a full name: Martyn Littlewood.
“Nope, that’s all,” Grian replied, blinking rapidly as he returned to his own vision.
“Great. Well, you two have a good one!” The librarian said cheerfully, and returned to their knitting.
Grian and Scar briskly made their way outside.
“Wow. So who’s this Martyn guy? I didn’t think anyone else cared about Watchers that much,” Scar began, turning to Grian. “Oh uh, Grian, you’ve got something there…” Scar pointed to his own nose, looking worried all of a sudden.
“Huh?” Grian wiped his nose on his sleeve instinctively, expecting snot. However, when he glanced at his arm he saw red.
“Ah.” At least her sweater was already red.
“What did you do in there?” Scar asked, his green eyes intense with a mix of curiosity and concern.
“I was able to get a better look at that computer, and see the guy’s last name,” Grian explained. “Martyn Littlewood. Whoever he is, he might have a ton of information about Watchers. I’ve got to find him and have a word with him.”
“Grian, you’re amazing!” Scar exclaimed, impressed. “Well, finding someone in this city should be easy enough for a Watcher.”
“Shush,” Grian glanced around the empty bus stop. “Or we could try, y’know, looking the name up online first…” Grian quickly pulled out her phone. “Ah. Found him.”
“What? You’re kidding.”
“Oh my god, Scar.”
“What?”
“Scar.” Grian held the phone out. “Martyn Littlewood is…”
“A youtuber?” Scar’s jaw dropped as he scrolled through the list of videos. “And he makes videos talking about-“
“Watchers.”
Scar stared at Grian, dumbfounded.
“Scar, I think we just found the world’s biggest, and perhaps only, Watcher fanatic,” Grian stated in disbelief. “And he lives right here in Hermit City.”
1K notes · View notes
wilsonsmcgillsweatshirt · 10 days ago
Text
Wilson having NPD is one of my favourite headcanons. I know everyone says House does, but I truly believe he's just autistic. And I know people are going to say, "How can he have NPD he's so selfless." Which, first of all, people with NPD can do selfless things. But mainly, I don't think Wilson is selfless at all. In fact, I'd argue he's one of the most selfish people on the entire show. Yes, he helps people a lot, but he's not helping people just because he genuinely cares and wants to do good. He helps people because he needs to be needed. He wants people to rely on him, and he craves that constant attention. Honestly, you see it with his ex-wives. He finds someone needy, and he comes in like a knight in shining armour, sweeping them off their feet. And then they have this honeymoon period where that person is so smitten with Wilson and relies on Wilson, and Wilson thrives under all the attention. But the second that that person doesn't need to rely on Wilson anymore, and that person becomes more emotionally independent, Wilson leaves. Because the helping people isn't about them, it's about him.
I mean, House straight up points it out, and they talk about it multiple times.
227 notes · View notes
cannibalisticskittles · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
so much of the wigmaker's job continues to stay with me but especially this bit.
like. do you think illario hearing lucanis brush off the possibility of his death again and again contributed to illario giving lucanis to zara.
because yes, of course there's jealousy. of course there is. lucanis is primed to get everything illario wants and nothing illario does seems to change that in the slightest. he can never be good enough, not when there's lucanis to measure up to.
but. not only does lucanis not actually want what's coming his way (he does not at all want to be first talon but they both know caterina DOES want this and lucanis could never tell her no), he's also throwing himself into these jobs with such disregard for his personal safety that there's a sense of inevitability that surrounds the idea of his death.
this conversation feels like... it may not have been discussed like this so clearly before, but they've at least poked around the edges in the past. thought about it. and this moment might have been a turning point, in a way -- illario coming to terms with the fact that lucanis really just will. not. stop. for ANYTHING. his cousin WILL get himself killed doing this and lucanis won’t have any regrets. he’ll leave illario to go this alone. (no one to follow after anymore.)
i wonder if he started to think -- if lucanis is going to die anyway, maybe it’d be better to have that happen sooner, rather than later.
lucanis wouldn’t be happy as first talon (+ honestly, maybe this part is a stretch, but illario seems to see that what lucanis is NOW isn’t so much ‘happy’ as it is ‘obedient and content to accept the scraps that gives him’), and he’s GOING to get himself killed doing this, anyway…
so yeah, he could wait it out. wait for lucanis to do something foolish enough that he can't just walk away from it. maybe he’ll even last long enough to be made first talon (if caterina can bear to loosen her grip from the title) and be miserable for a while. years even, maybe! before lucanis, again, does something he can’t walk away from.
or.
illario could cut through all the pointless waiting and get right to the point. go straight to where this was always going to end up. and if illario is in charge of this, maybe he can benefit from it, and salvage one good thing from this whole mess, instead of being caught up in it later down the line.
(which then might tread into the territory of anticipated grief, too – lucanis' loss will be agony, but, if illario controls when and how it happens, he can control his grief. …except he hadn’t accepted the inevitability of lucanis’ death quite as well as he’d thought and when he gets sloshed at the wake, real grief seeps through the cracks)
just... something about this conversation. both of them viewing lucanis’ death as a foregone conclusion. lucanis accepting that easily, and illario struggling with that more -- and maybe having that shape his actions. not exactly a healthy expression of grief, but since when has anything this family done been healthy?
267 notes · View notes
inmyheaddd · 9 days ago
Text
starry eyes sparking up my darkest night - averyjameson
a/n: heavy influenced by thinking bout you by ariana hehe, also trying out a new style sorta?? so i'm vv sorry if this is horrible.,, thank u tig gc/ liv for help with the quotes !! summary: (set in thl, pre coma) avery cannot stop thinking about jameson, and the thought that he may just be the right person for her. the fact that there even could be a 'person for her' is jarring enough, and jameson being at the centre of those thoughts does not help her predicament. wc: 2.8k
Tumblr media
Avery tossed and turned in her bed, trying insanely hard to grasp some sort of control over her mind and her thoughts. She lay on her side and screwed her eyes shut. Two minutes later, her eyes flew open, and then she turned to lie on her back. 
''Picture yourself standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The wind is whipping in your hair. The sun is setting. You long, body and soul, for one thing. One person. You hear footsteps behind you. You turn. Who’s there?” Max had once asked her.
When she first heard that question, she felt like she was fully incapable of ever picturing anyone there with her. She was simply alone. But now, Avery hated that the picture was becoming increasingly more clear with every passing moment. 
That head of unruly brown hair, an ever-present wicked grin, and green eyes that seemed to look straight to the deepest parts of her. 
Jameson. She saw Jameson. 
Avery groaned and turned onto her other side and went through that process of turning fruitlessly at least 5 more times. Seriously, Avery, get a grip, she thought.
Why was he always there when she needed him? Why could she see that he had actually changed for her? Why was he... good? Avery once again squeezed her eyes shut like it would turn off those thoughts of Jameson and let her fall asleep, but of course, it didn't work. 
Love? Fear? Lust? She couldn't quite tell what it was, but all she knew was it was becoming harder to keep that one green-eyed Hawthorne out of her thoughts. She knew that for some reason, she wanted whatever they had going on to be more, and she wanted it to work out. 
That was it for her. 
She sprang out of bed and went to her closet, picking out her favourite sweater—the one Libby had gotten for her when she noticed the thinness of the old one Avery would always wear. That felt like a whole lifetime ago to her now. She wondered what her past self would think of her life now, think of the choices she was making. 
She made her way to her bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. There was no point in even attempting to sleep anymore; it was clearly not on her side this evening, so why not make the most out of it? 
She made her way downstairs, arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to combat the cold, not really knowing why she was going, but she figured once she was down there she'd figure out what she'd want. The house was eerily quiet—it was always pretty quiet considering the sheer size of it, but now, Avery could swear she could seriously not hear a single thing. She almost wondered if she went deaf. 
She made it to the kitchen, not even bothering to turn the big lights on. There were lights from underneath the cabinets and moonlight and various other lights pouring out from the windows. That was enough for her. She sighed and slouched on one of the chairs on the island. 
She ran a hand through her hair, trying so very hard to not think of the amount of times she and Jameson had sat here, how many times he had grinned at her when he would seemingly appear out of nowhere behind her and scare her half to death. 
And as if the universe was playing some funny trick on her, the boy who had been taking up her every rational thought walked into the kitchen. He didn't notice her at first, his black sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips, no shirt on, both hands rubbing his eyes as he walked towards the cabinet that held the glasses for water. 
Avery felt like she'd been caught, though she hadn't done anything wrong. Thinking of someone wasn't a crime, right? Surely her thoughts couldn't have summoned him. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, and her heart sped. 
She didn't move a single inch, and Jameson somehow still stayed completely oblivious to her presence a mere few metres away. Or maybe he was aware and just didn't show it. Avery could never fully tell with him. He blinked a few times, then set his glass down and stretched both his hands overhead, groaning ever so slightly.
Okay, I should seriously look away now, she thought. Or she should make her presence known, maybe clear her throat or something. But she couldn't. It was like she was entranced with the way the toned lines on his torso elongated, the way his arms looked, the way his hair fell into his face ever so slightly, the way his hands—
''Heiress.'' Avery's thoughts came to a halt. Her eyes snapped up to his face, and he had amusement sparkling in his eyes, mixed in with confusion. He managed a sleepy grin at her as his arms fell back to his sides. 
He phrased the word like a question, almost. There was sleep still laced in his voice, and Avery swore she could listen to him like this for hours and never get sick of it. 
He tilted his head. ''Why on earth are you awake?'' he chuckled lowly, not mentioning the way she had simply sat and stared at him for the past minute. 
Either he was protecting her sanity and didn't want to tease her right now, or he really just didn't notice the way she stared. Avery snuck a glance at the time on the oven. 3:42 AM. She'd been trying to fall asleep since 11. 
''Um,'' Avery cleared her throat, trying to sound as casual as Jameson did with a small laugh. ''Couldn't sleep. Why on earth are you awake?'' 
''You know what they say, Heiress,'' he narrowed his eyes jokingly, ''No rest for the wicked.'' Jameson flashed her a wink, finally filling up his glass of water under the tap.
His eyes didn't leave Avery once, not even looking at his glass as he turned off the tap and brought the cup to his lips. 
He leaned back against the counter, and Avery turned slightly in her seat without realising, facing him properly. 
''You think you're that bad, huh? Don't flatter yourself.'' Avery mumbled half jokingly.
''You almost sound like you think I'm good,'' he quipped with a tilt of his head, downing his glass of water in a second, and Avery 100% did not look at the way his Adams apple bobbed or the way his lips looked. Absolutely, definitely not. 
Avery managed a sarcastic smile, not showing any signs of being affected by his actions or words as he walked over and sat next to her. 
She snorted, ''You're probably the furthest thing from good in my life, Jameson. Doesn't mean you're necessarily wicked, though.''
He looked her up and down with a glint in his eye—he looked wide awake now. ''Furthest thing from good?'' He hummed, ''I think you would do with some recklessness in your life.'' He continued, his tone not really holding any humour in it anymore. Avery realised just how close he was now. 
''Maybe someone who lets you know it's okay to not do what others think is 'good.' Someone who breaks free from the reins with you but knows when to bring them back.'' He told her, a half smile on his face as he gently nudged her shoulder. 
''Not that you're not able to do all that by yourself; believe me, I know you're capable of many things.'' He said that last part in a way that made Avery break away from his gaze. ''The thing is, I think that you simply don't want to. You like to play it safe.''
Avery understood the other message he was silently conveying: He liked to play it dangerous. 
She felt like the part of her shoulder where he had nudged her was igniting. She could sense there was more to what Jameson wanted to say, so she brought her eyes back up to his. ''But?'' 
''But,'' he tilted his head, ''I also think you should. And, I think that someone would love to show you just how life can feel when you're free. They'd be a very lucky person to do so.''
''Let me guess,'' Avery smiled dryly, but her insides felt like they were on fire with how fast her heart was beating. ''You're that someone?'' 
''I'd be anything you'd like.'' He replied, flashing a quick smile that reminded Avery of the Cheshire Cat. ''You know, you're a very good guesser.''
''I don't like to guess.''
''Yeah?'' Jameson let out a breathy chuckle. ''I thought as much. You like to know.''
Avery pressed her lips together and fought back a smile; she did like to know. She hated feeling like there was something left undiscovered that she couldn't quite figure out. Which was partly why she loved the thrill of figuring things out. That moment when everything seemed to click. Jameson had picked up on that fact about her pretty damn quick. 
Avery didn’t look away, holding his gaze steady. "Yeah, I like to know," she admitted quietly, her voice even, "I know you're the same way. With winning, too. Is it weird that a part of me doesn’t like you knowing that about me?"
Jameson’s crooked grin grew, "Not weird at all." He shrugged, the casual movement undermined by the glint in his eyes. "You don’t like me wanting you, either. You don’t like wanting anything.''
He said the words in such a laid-back manner, while Avery's heart dropped. Her brows knitted together, it almost felt like a confrontation, but she got the sense that he wasn't judging her. “But you know what’s interesting, Heiress?” His voice dipped a degree lower as he inched his face just a fraction closer, the kind of proximity that always left her torn between feeling both cornered and wanting to break the space even more. “You and I—neither of us are that easy to figure out. And yet here we are.''
''Here we are,'' she repeated, her voice coming out sharper than she intended, ''knowing each other more than we'd like.'' She said, finishing his sentence for him.
And trusting each other with our lives. She thought, but she didn't dare say it aloud. She thought back on the Black Wood, the way he put his body over hers with no hesitation.
"I think that’s why you can’t decide if you hate me or not," Jameson added, his voice dropping a degree lower, "You like knowing, but being known? That’s a different kind of risk, isn’t it?"
He knew he was right. She didn't need to answer. He'd just summed up the way she had felt for years of her life in 3 sentences. She wouldn't let herself be known, yet a part of her yearned for it. Most people gave up trying to get close to her after a while, but with the few that stayed, Avery's walls slowly broke down, and she got comfortable. 
The risk Jameson was talking about, the one about people staying, he seemed eager to take it. 
Avery’s heart raced, but she gave nothing away, merely tilting her head with a wry smile. "You’re overthinking it, Jameson."
His grin widened, and he leaned in ever so slightly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Perhaps you’re choosing to not think about it, Avery."
Oh, if he had any idea just how much she thought about it. Once again, he knew, she was choosing, or at least trying to not think about it.
Her mind lingered on the way he called her by her name. Not Heiress, not Mystery Girl. Just Avery.
''I've 'thought about it' enough.'' She told him, her gaze flitting between his eyes.
He casually brought his hand up and brushed a stray hair behind her ear, his gentleness nearly making her flinch. ''And what was your conclusion?" He asked innocently, his voice a low hum. 
Avery nearly sighed in frustration. She knew Jameson was simply trying to get her riled up, but she still sarcastically quipped, ''Why don't you use your guessing skills?"
He hummed, like he was seriously thinking about it, but the teasing smile on his lips said otherwise. ''I'd rather hear you say it.''
Jameson's hand that tucked her hair behind now fit right where her jaw met her neck, and his green eyes looked nearly black in the dim lighting of the kitchen.
''Tough luck, then.'' Avery mumbled, unable to look away.
Everything had seemed so cold just minutes earlier, but now, Avery felt like every nerve in her body was on fire. She wondered if Jameson felt the same. 
Avery tried to keep her composure, but the way he held her made her question everything. She was used to keeping control, but with him, control felt impossible, unnecessary even. There was something about his touch that made her feel like she could let go and still be safe.
"Jameson…" she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to pull away or bring him closer. His hand slid lower, resting at the base of her neck, and the heat between them intensified.
"You want me to stop?" he asked, though it seemed he knew her answer. 
Perhaps he wanted to hear her say that too. 
Avery’s mind was racing, her heart thudding loudly in her chest, but her answer came without hesitation. "No." It was barely audible, but it was enough.
In the next instant, his lips were on hers, and everything else faded away. The kiss was soft at first, slow, as if he were testing the waters, but Avery wasn’t about to let it stay that way. She leaned in, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer.
Jameson responded instantly, one arm sliding around her waist, then he stood and brought them both out of their chairs as they stumbled around the kitchen, not breaking from the kiss.
They continued walking blindly until he gently backed her up against the counter. Avery’s breath hitched, but she couldn’t pull away.
She didn't want to pull away. She didn’t want to doubt her choices. Not anymore.
Click.
Avery had suddenly felt like everything fell into place, like the very first step she had taken in the Hawthorne House had led to this, to uncovering the mystery of what she and Jameson Winchester Hawthorne were. She once thought they were only confined to adrenaline, attraction, and the thrill of the moment. No strings attached. No messy emotions.
Now, she found herself feeling every messy emotion, like there had been a string attached right from her heart to his, pulling them closer and closer and closer.
'You long, body and soul, for one thing. One person.' Jameson.
'You turn. Who’s there?'Jameson Winchester Hawthorne. He was there. 
He was here. And he was kissing Avery and holding her face so gently in a way that no one ever had before, like she was precious to him. Like he truly cared, and not just about the games.
And after all the times Avery spent thinking about the different ways her life could've been, she found herself not wanting to be anywhere else but here.
If possible, Avery's heart started beating even faster as her hands travelled down his chest, feeling every rigid bump and dip. Her hands quickly found their way back up and slid into his hair, pulling slightly. She felt him grin against her lips, which brought her back to reality. 
She was the first to pull back, her hands lingering around his neck for a second longer before they slid down to his chest.
“I should... I should go to bed.” She muttered into the small space between them, looking at her hands and bringing them back to her sides before looking straight up into his eyes. 
Jameson tilted his head, his pupils blown out as he gazed at her. His lips were parted as he caught his breath. ''Right.'' He nodded breathlessly, their lips still unbelievably close. ''It's late. Busy day for you tomorrow, yeah?'' 
Avery nodded as she breathed out a small, ''Yeah, you know how it is.'' 
Recently, all her days were busy, considering the Skye and Toby business.
His lips curved inwards into a thin line as he stepped to the side, giving her space to move. His expression was something that looked like understanding—or maybe it was disappointment. Either way, he didn’t push. He just nodded. 
“Alright,” he said, managing a grin, seemingly out of the daze he was in earlier. “Goodnight, Heiress.”
Her stomach twisted, ''Night, Jameson,'' she let the words fall as she stayed looking into his eyes. She forced herself to look away, because she had a feeling if she didn't, she'd be there all night.
She finally stepped away. She wasn't clueless; she felt him watch her walk away. But she kept herself moving before she could let herself change her mind. 
And this time, when Avery lay in her bed, she actually fell asleep. 
Tumblr media
taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm @goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington @peppapigsposts @thoughtdaughter3 also special thank u to @apollospoem for the beta read!! 🙈 she saw it first!!!
138 notes · View notes
coeurify · 1 year ago
Note
I have no idea how this would fit into an storyline but I am a hoe for fake dating. Imagine fake dating with abby and it slowly becoming too real
UGH YOU GET ME FAKE DATING IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES!!
Tumblr media
⋆˚✿˖° now, abby anderson had a problem. specifically a blonde, brown eyed loud mouthed man of a problem. owen fucking moore. she had broken up with him in the summer time, little explanation given to the ass of a boyfriend other than that she needed to “find herself.” (not that she needed to give any.)
⋆˚✿˖° but owen? oh owen didn’t accept that. so from the very moment abby had broken it off, to when the air began to smell like fall.. he pestered abby. asked for a reason, begged for another chance (despite HIM going around with damn near every girl on the WLF compound.)
⋆˚✿˖° things came to a head at a get together in one of abby and owen’s mutual friend’s apartment style quarters. mutual friend who also happened to be your roommate.
⋆˚✿˖° abby and owen fought all night, abby’s cheeks red from embarrassment and anger, eyebrows furrowed together. “why can’t you just take no for an answer owen?“ the cup in her hand crackled a bit under the pressure when the man scoffed. “because you never give me a real answer!” abby’s arms crossed at that, searching around the room. quickly, and maybe a little impulsively, she shrugged. “i’m into someone else now.”
⋆˚✿˖° owen just couldn’t accept that, his arms thrown around dramatically. “so you like another guy? that’s why you wont give me another chance? you know i can treat you better.” that sentence alone reminded abby just why she hated being with him so much, but again that fast moving brain of hers spoke before the thought could finish, finger pointing in the direction of the first person she found.. you. “it’s not a guy. it’s a girl. im not.. into your..” abby made a motion, “species anymore.” sure, it was sort of true. abby recently realized she probably had a thing for girls, but you particularly? she couldn’t count on her fingers the amount of conversations she had with. “i like her.”
⋆˚✿˖° you, who’s head poked up, mouth full of slightly stale chips, having heard the whole conversation. abby anderson, beautiful, funny, madeyouweakintheknees, abby anderson was into you? and not straight? surely not. you swallowed harshly, deciding to play into whatever game abby seemed to have set on the floor. you made your way over, an award winning smile on your face as owen’s mouth dropped open further than a damn infected. “You like her? as in girls?”
⋆˚✿˖° honestly, you probably caused more trouble when you stood near the two, “abs!” you grinned, “you forgot your jacket here.. cmere ill grab it for you.” and then your hand is wrapped around her tensed bicep, the stiffness likely caused by her pure shock you even played along. still, she used it as an out from the devil with blonde locks, shrugging almost apologetically at owen before letting you whisk her away.
⋆˚✿˖° and that night, after everyone but you and abby had stumbled out of the cramped room, which was still humid and heavy, you made the plan. with a pen that had little ink left, scratching against the water damaged pages of the notebook you tucked under your pillow, you wrote the words “project get rid of owen moore.” which ok, in retrospect sounded really bad. but you were a little tipsy.
⋆˚✿˖° the plan was easy. play the role of abby’s first girlfriend, convince owen she was totally not into him or men anymore. what did you get out of it? a spot on the top dog abby anderson’s patrol team. something you had been vying for this year. abby agreed, although a little hesitantly. she promised she had picked you only because its who her pointed finger found first. not any actual attraction. you swallowed down the hit to your ego that brought.
⋆˚✿˖° and honestly? the plan went on pretty steadily. you were a damn good fake girlfriend if you had to admit it, and abby didn’t hate being around you. in fact, she really enjoyed being around you. she enjoyed how easily your fingers reached down, tapping on her palm to fing a way to hold her hand whenever one of owen’s posey was around. she enjoyed how you leaned in whenever owen passed by, your lips on her ear, whispering anything you knew would have her smiling. a fake smile of course.
⋆˚✿˖° you two had some pretty strict rules. no kissing, no extreme touchiness, absolutely no spilling to anyone this was fake, and the most important.. no real feelings. you had come up with a backstory, one you two had studied together. (you two met in the training room after your roommate introduced you two and totally hit it off. abby got you a spot on her team next to her and manny, and feeling bloomed from there.) abby added in a few details she knew would piss owen off.. and you sealed your lips shut to follow the rules.
⋆˚✿˖° the first few weeks were easy. you liked spending time around abby. you enjoyed how she smiled, you laughed at all the jokes she cracked (for the fake dating points of course..), and you loved training with her. you had to ignore the shiver her hands on your shoulders or waist gave, knowing it was just to help your position. “you have to fix your stance if you plan on fighting scars..” abby huffed.
⋆˚✿˖° the problem started in october. a month and a half into your fake dating plan. tens of lunches spent alone together, a handful of new hair styles you begged to try on abby, and around 5 missions out of the base, in. there was a party, one you demanded the two of you go to one day as you lounged on abby’s bunk— watching as she cleaned up manny’s mess across the room. “if we dress up together, owen will totally finally get off your case,” you assured, bringing a loud sigh from the blonde. “oh my god.. fine.”
⋆˚✿˖° you went as a angel and devil, simple enough to easy stitch together some devil horns for yourself and an angel halo you found in an old broken down store in the city for abby. no way did you admit the trouble you went for to find it to abs, especially not as she easily pulled her shirt off in front of you, totally clueing you in to where the nickname came from as she shoved on the white teeshirt.
⋆˚✿˖° see, the no kissing rule was an important one, but vodka made everything seem less important, and owen was awfully loud that night, scoffing any time you smiled and leaned into your angel, head band tilting off your head, which abby fixed with a grin. “you two act more like friends than people fucking each other,” owen scoffed as he pressed by you two, the words pounding in abby’s ears over the loud mingling voices.
⋆˚✿˖° “kiss me,” abby called over the old cd that played on the speakers, her cheeks red with anger— blue eyes flicking around. “what?” you laughed, thinking back to rule number 1. “i know we said no— no kissing but i just.. oh my god just kiss me,” abby muttered, her large hands gripping your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss, one she was sure owen was watching on to. one you melted into, sucking her lip in between yours.
⋆˚✿˖° that had been a breaking point, ragged breaths and heated necks as you pulled away. it lead to more excuses with less validity being used when the two of you stared at each other’s lips. stepping down the stairs of the base, eyes catching on someone who just looked like owen. “kiss me,” abby muttered quickly, and you wasted no time to turn your head and fill your nose with the scent of pine as you leaned in.
⋆˚✿˖° the no kissing rule crossed off right before the no touchiness one did, that one had been scribbled off completely when abby began pulling you into her lap in group functions, one soft hand rubbing up against your side as she whispered in your ear, “jus’ for show.”
⋆˚✿˖° just for show of course, but you screamed into your pillow for so long that night you almost thought the walls of your room would crumble down along with the barrier you put between you and the blonde.
⋆˚✿˖° kisses and touchiness turned to nights spent in abby’s room, mornings waking up and having abby’s shirt thrown at your face. “wear that, owen got it for me when we were dating.” sure, you probably should be ashamed to be wearing the clothes of a girl who didn’t like you, but the frown on owen’s face made it worth it.
⋆˚✿˖° that last rule, the one that didn’t have pen strokes over the letters, the one locked behind awkward coughs and side glances, well you weren’t sure who broke it first. you dont know why feelings came into play, but you sure do know it happened.
⋆˚✿˖° you felt it first when abby didn’t talk to you for a few days. you saw her across the stadium with nora, her head tilted back lightly in a laugh at something the other girl said. that was the first time you felt the needle sized ache in your heart, one that only ripped further when owen shoulder checked you on his way by, “better get your girl. she slips away easily.”
⋆˚✿˖° maybe that rule had been broken when abby stormed into your room, met with the sight of you on the couch with some other blonde girl, an old tape of a southern movie mid way through when anderson scoffed and demanded the girl get out. she did so in a hurry, scrambling for her sweatshirt as a frown grew on your lips. “abby what the fuck?” you scoff, watching her eyebrows unfurrow lightly. “you can’t have other girls over! it fucks with our plan,” she accused, though she stumbled lightly over the words. “she’s just a friend, abby.”
⋆˚✿˖° however, the night you sat in your bed, breath heavy and eyes stinging as you broke through the paper with the pen, scratching over the words “no real feelings,” that came in the end of november.
⋆˚✿˖° your head was pressed into abby’s shoulder, yawning and closing your eyes as the movie played on a big sheet, a biweekly occurrence in the WLF base. abby had pressed to your cheek, placing a kiss to it that had some sort of butterfly attack take fruition in your stomach. you two didn’t even know if owen or his friends were around, and they for sure were not the reason of abby’s hand linking into yours as you two walked toward her room later that night. you both seemed to realize that when you reached her door and she leaned forward just lightly, as if to kiss you.
⋆˚✿˖° she cleared her throat, licking over the lips you wanted to capture again. “i think-” she said suddenly, squeezing her eyes closed. “i think owen really believes it now.” you could feel your heart sinking to the empty stomach that laid below your chest, knowing what came next. “i think we should break up.” abby finished, quick to add, “fake break up.”
⋆˚✿˖° you nodded along silently to the story she built still standing in her doorway. miscommunication, arguments, differing plans, the whole shebang— anything to make the breakup believable. you agreed, but the moment her door shut, a half smile and thank you sitting on her lips as the door locked, you felt the tears prick your eyes.
⋆˚✿˖° you wiped quickly at the tears, your hand slapped over the aching chest you swore betrayed you. you sucked in shallow breaths, shaky hands finding your own door as your vision went blurry.
⋆˚✿˖° as your pen broke through the white sheet of paper, you cursed your own heart. you cursed it for being so easy to rip from your chest, presented on a platter for a blonde who only saw it as a fake replica. you threw the notebook across the floor, hand slapping over your mouth so your roommate wouldn’t wake as you sobbed into it. surely you had been the only one to break that rule, but that didn’t matter now.
⋆˚✿˖° but you were wrong. not that you could know that. a five minute walk away, abby breathed out slowly as her fingers scraped though the braid she was undoing, an odd stinging pricked at the corner of her lashes. she knew she did the right thing. she knew it as soon as her lips searched for your own at her doorway tonight. so why did it feel so bad? why did her hands tremble as she pulled out her blanket and climbed under it, squeezing her eyes shut.
⋆˚✿˖° if this was all fake, why did the break up feel so real?
1K notes · View notes
morphean42 · 9 days ago
Text
Falsettos unpopular opinions because two people asked for this and honestly I don’t give a fuck anymore. I want to state this isn’t in response to anyone in particular, though, and if you get offended by any of these think about why. For a good reason? Please tell me and I’d love to debate it, truly. For a petty reason? You’re simply part of the problem.
1. They are Jewish. End of story. If I see anything related to Christianity or Christmas or whatever the fuck with them… shut up. Yes Whizzer is half-Jewish, yes in the revival Cordelia isn’t Jewish (WHICH BRINGS ME TO ANOTHER POINT ILL GET INTO LATER), yes they are most likely secular as evidenced by Mendel’s “religions just a trap” and ‘Days Like This’, no this does not give you the right to ignore their ETHNICITY AND CULTURE.
2. It’s okay to like the revival more. It’s not okay to ignore the original just because you get blinded by conventionally attractive men. Going to my Cordelia point, she’s Jewish in the original, her line ‘Shiksa caterer’ is ‘Kosher caterer’. Again it’s fine if your headcanons and fanfics and fanarts are based on the revival, I love it too, but stop acting like it’s the only version.
3. Whizzer’s entire personality does not revolve around being gay. He’s not a sassy twink. He’s a full grown man with issues that need to be addressed. Again, I reiterate, he is not a twink. Stop. Drawing. Him. Skinny. And. Hairless. I don’t care if ‘ oh but but that’s just my art style!’ Shut up.
4. Correlated to the above point, here are things Whizzer is not: a prostitute, a drug addict, relying on Marvin for everything, a twink (saying that again to get it through peoples fucking skulls), innocent. I’m 100% positive if the people who had these headcanons watched the OBC version of the show they’d never continue to advocate for them… once more I’m begging you guys to look past Andy Randy’s beautiful face and actually use critical thinking skills when it comes to Whizzer.
5. Short but (not) sweet: don’t claim to understand Marvin if you haven’t watched In Trousers. Just don’t.
6. If you flat out hate any character in the show, you’re wrong. Yes I’m still mad about the Mendel thing; if you think any one character is worse than the rest and isn’t just a fully human person with flaws and nuance, you don’t understand the musical as well as you claim.
7. It’s not the ‘gay’ musical. If you like falsettos for Whizzvin and nothing else, please, just… I don’t even know. There’s so much more to it than ‘ooo boys kissing.’ Please grow up, this leads into a whole other point but fetishisation is never okay, no matter who does it.
8. So many people treat Trina as either a perfect angel or just the side character in the way of the gay people. She’s an entire person, an entire character with flaws and hardship and terrible actions done by her and to her. Treat my homophobic queen with the respect she deserves, and acknowledge her faults too. It’s more misogynistic to treat her as perfect when she has issues too than just saying ‘she’s never done anything wrong’.
9. Stop making AIDS jokes.
10. This next one is probably the most iffy on the list. I will never be one to police fandom and creation, you can engage with material in any fucking way you like it literally doesn’t matter to me… but I dislike AUs. Now, I’ll always enjoy a little fun, adding in a twist like lesbian Whizzvin, or enjoying a feel good college AU. But. Especially for Falsettos the canon events are so fucking important and cannot be disregarded as casually as some do. AIDS is an extremely important part of the story, as well as the fact that both Marvin and Whizzer are men. I’m trans myself, but I dislike making them so simply because everything about their characters, all the characters, are so highly specific and important to take these aspects away is to disrespect the message of the musical.
11. It’s very important Mendel is straight. I see some people headcanon him as bisexual or trans or so on, and this just feels so wrong to me. Trina and Mendel are straight and that’s why their acceptance and love for the others in the Tight Knit Family is so important, especially Trina struggles with moving away from the idea that these ‘homosexual tendencies’ are wrong. They are straight but they love Whizzvin and the lesbians just as much as anyone else.
12. This one is so petty and I accept that, but… HIS NAME IS NOT MARVIN GARDENS. GARDEN IS A JOKE CHRISTIAN BORLE MADE BASED ON MONOPOLY. Jesus guys please just stop it it’s so stupid, William Finn didn’t have a last name for Marvin on purpose, and though I can’t do more than theorise what that purpose was, Gardens is so stupid. It’s not even funny. Same goes for Cohen, which just is odd. The only name I could begin to accept is Falsetto, and even then… just work around the last name in your fics.
12 1/2. SIDE TANGENT Jason would never take Weisenbachfeld as his last name. As a child of divorce… no. He’ll never view Mendel as a true father over his own dad, especially after Falsettoland, and he wouldn’t take that name. Hell, I’d known my ex step-father since I was two and I’d never have taken his last name. So, please, I never want to see Jason Weisenbachfeld again. That’s just not how it works.
At the end of the day this is just me alone in my room bitching… I just hope these points resonate with others.
110 notes · View notes
tremendouscreationperson · 6 months ago
Text
Bucky Barnes x Chubby!Reader imagine
It had been really difficult to blow Bucky off each time he asked to hang out. In fact it had been really difficult to ignore the whole friendship group. If you went out with Steve, no doubt Bucky would be there. If you went out with Nat, no doubt Bucky would hear and ask you to meet him the following day. The same goes for Sam, Wanda and, fuck it, even Tony.
So you all but secluded yourself in your room. Which wasn't your choice really but your boyfriend Alex hadn't taken kindly to your close relationship with another man. He wasn't convinced that even though you two grew up together you could be 'just friends'. And to his credit he wasn't really wrong. You had harboured a fat crush on your closest friend for a while but it was unrequited and then Alex came into your life and he was the first guy who actually showed an interest in you. It wasn't something you were used to in the slightest. Being friends with beauties like Natasha and Wanda you were often looked over by those not in the friend group but Alex had sought you out.
So here you were, on a Saturday, missing out whatever fun shenanigans were going on. Scrolling through various apps in your pjs like a party animal.
A knock at your door startled you out of mindlessly scrolling.
You sat yourself up and hoped to god you weren't nose blind and the room smelt okay.
"I'm decent." You joked.
The door opened and the very person you were avoiding ducked his head in. Fuck Bruce. You had told him not to let anyone in.
"Oh my god. You're alive." He joked back shutting the door behind himself. Bucky sauntered into your room, with the same swagger he always had, plonking himself down on your bed.
Not sure what to say in response, you go to the diplomatic, "You okay?"
He gives you a half shrug and leans backwards. "Missing my partner in crime. Thought I'd visit you."
You merely nod in reply.
This is the first ever awkward silence you and Bucky had sat through. It spread out horribly, stretching until you gave a very fake cough. Hoping any noise would solve it. It didn't.
"Right, okay, just go straight to the point." Bucky muttered. "Look, why are you avoiding me, angel? What did I do?"
Bucky's gaze was always piercing but today the intensity winded you. Why were you avoiding him?
There was no use lying anymore. You'd used up all your excuses anyway. You couldn't be sick again or have work again you just needed to tell him. He deserves honesty. "Alex isn't our biggest fan."
"Yeah, I knew that." Bucky chuckled. "I just didn't realise his dick was worth all your friends." You tutted at his crude remark. "He told me off for piggybacking you at the fair. 'she doesn't let me carry her, why are you'." His impression was eerily good.
You chuckled a little at the idea of Alex confronting Bucky. "He was not pleased that evening."
"He doesn'-" Bucky shook his head.
"Doesn't what?"
"Nothing." He ran a hand through his locks. "Where is he anyway?"
"He's at a friend's birthday."
Bucky's eyebrows were in his hairline. "And he hasn't taken you?"
This was a sore topic. But you'd been honest so far... "I didn't fit into the dress."
Now he was frowning. "What dress?"
You motioned to your wardrobe. "He brought me a dress, I've been working to get into it but."
"Been wor-" Bucky's frown somehow got deeper. "Why would he buy you a dress that doesn't fit you?"
Your mouth opened and closed but you didn't have an answer.
Bucky stomped over to the wardrobe and opened it. There was a dress resting against the door, it was enclosed in plastic so he had to unzip it. The dress was tiny. It was a little strappy thing with far too many holes. What were the holes supposed to- oh they were going to expose your sides and back.
"This i-" He turned to you. "You'd never wear this. It's not even your colour."
You couldn't agree more. "I know, it's been a little arguement between us." That was an understatement.
"I still don't understand why he brought you something that didn't fit." You shrugged but before you could respond he continued, "what's this?"
Your eyes flicked down to the pile he was caught on. "Oh, those ar- those are your hoodies."
Bucky gave you a confused face. "Bu- these are yours, angel."
You smiled sweetly at him. "Alex wasn'-"
"I don't care about him. He buys you shit that doesn't fit, he goes to parties without you, he isolates you from your friends." Bucky sat back on the bed but much closer, just by your hip. "Why are you with him?"
You didn't know. You liked him. You think you love him. But when you really think of it, you don't know. You're not any happier with him than if you weren't. Sometimes he says things and you feel fat in a bad way. You'd be the first to say you weren't thin but the way he says it makes you feel wrong. "He's the first guy to actually show an interest in me, I suppose at first I enjoyed it but when you say it like that."
"He is not the first guy to show you an interest." Bucky shook his head in disbelief. "You're gorgeous."
You rolled your eyes. "Thanks. But when I'm out with the gang I'm not really being looked at."
"You are." Bucky vowed. "I- people do look at you. I-I sometimes don't like the way they look at you and maybe I dance with you and maybe I take you on the Ferris wheel."
Why wouldn't he like the way they looked at you? Your brows pulled. "The way they look at me?"
"Like you're just a quick fuck." He instantly regretted that. "No, they look at you with lust but I know they would leave. They wouldn't treat you right. They wouldn't care for you." His eyes were bright and honest. He wasn't embarrassed by his confession.
You had nothing. No response. What could you say that wouldn't betray the crush? You didn't still like him, no, well ... When he looked at you like that...
"Come on." He clapped a hand on your knee. "Get changed let's get pizza." The look on your face must've shown your obvious debate. "I don't care if you don't fit into that dress, you look like you haven't eaten anything good in ages."
198 notes · View notes