#anyway what I am really saying is that this is only making me want to redo my canon dai playthrough entirely and as comforting as that is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 day ago

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@jollyhunter

Okay, I'm finally home and this was such a wonderful thing to read through! It made my day 😊

Girl, let me tell you I was also giggling the entire time I wrote this. This fic was so self indulgent because the reader IS me, one billion percent, the awkward anxious person who has no idea how to catch someone's attention 😆 But I love it resonated with you too (but I'm also sorry it took you back to your past trauma lol 😂)

I love your writing style and especially the way you add humor!! Like this had me already cracking up - Butcher and the boys x LotR, where’s my funfic, hm??

Oh goodness THANK YOU SO MUCH! 🥰 I literally laugh to myself the whole time I write and most of the time I'm scared no one else will get the jokes, but thank you that really means a lot 💗 But YES the subtle Eomer drop... if you haven't read As Tradition Dictates, you need to because it's so good and it's been living rent free in my head since I read it. And oh my word the cross over would be wild- Soldier Boy does act like an Orc sometimes, but we love him for it anyway 🤣

It’s a real struggle 😭

Amen it is 🫶🏻

Sneaky bastard - I feel like he’s only saying that because he’s afraid that he will fall for her. (Probably already has and is taking his chance now since she’d basically friend zoned him 😂)

He could be... 😏 You could be getting dangerously close to the truth there my friend 😉

EDIT: I FORGOT TO COMMENT ON THE FRIGGIN LOCUSTS SUPE - I’d pay to see that scene; Butcher and Soldier Boy running from a swarm of locusts because they can’t punch or shoot their way out as usual and making a deal to never talk about this embarrassing moment again 🤣

You know, I am so happy you pointed this out, because I really didn't think that in depth about what that scene would look like. And I hate locusts so I was like... what supe power would just be too much for me. BUT THAT IS SO FUNNY! I can see Butcher firing off like two shots into the swarm, while Ben kinda holds up his shield half-heartedly debating if it's worth it (it's not), and the reader and Hughie are already in the car with all the windows rolled up just watching it unfold. Even funnier would be her not letting Butcher or Ben into the car because she doesn't want any of the locusts to get in and she's shooing the two of them away. 😂

NOW WHERE‘S MY PART TWO?? I’M READY

Running joke I have is that I really can't write a one-shot to save my life... and this fic is no exception. I would love to make this a series (and I sort of accidentally plotted one out for this lol). The problem is I'm trying to finish up a soulmate AU series I started last year for Soldier Boy called If The Stars Wish It So and I have a prompt celebration running so I want to finish up those two things before I start a series based on this fic... BUT I do want to, because I love fake dating and I think that I could make this exceptionally awkward and funny lol.

But I am so happy that you liked this one sweetie and thank you so much for all the lovely feedback! 💜

Promise Not To Fall In Love With Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader and a little bit of Billy Butcher x f!reader

Prompt: "I find him very attractive." /"I'm standing right here"/ "I know."

Requested by: @angrydragon90

Tropes: Fake Dating, Pining.

Summary: When you first joined Butcher's team the last thing you expected was to develop a crush on him, but after two years of pining, you get a proposition from the last person you'd expect to care.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just in case (I don't really think it is). Some cursing, Sexual innuendo, References to sex, Over glorification of a man's shirtless body (I'm not complaining) Reader is a little anxious/anxiety/socially awkward? Drug use/Drinking (Soldier Boy), Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (He's a warning, we all know it and somehow still love him for it).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

A/N: This is the third fic for my prompt celebration! This one was requested the incredible @angrydragon90 💗 Had to do something with a little bit of Valentine's Day spirit, but I'm going to be honest, this one turned into something that I didn't expect... let me know what y'all think. I also was thinking about @zepskies fic As Tradition Dictates for the more *ahem* gratuitous descriptions of Butcher 😉

Butcher’s muscles rippled over his bare chest and broad shoulders with every swing of the mighty axe down to the earth. Each strike of the axe against wood sent chips of bark flickering in the air around him like sparks. Sweat rolled down his sun kissed skin curving in the dips of his muscular torso, along the tensing muscles of his back, and through the dusting of hair on his torso, before disappearing into the waistband of the dark jeans hung low on his hips.

Heat kisses your cheeks and darkens the skin the longer you watch him and you bite your lip hard to keep the appreciative sigh of the scene in front of you at bay. But it does little to stop your eyes which rove over the rugged man chopping wood.

No man his age should look that good.

Butcher props one of his feet up on the tree stump he’s been using as a table oblivious to your attention, shouldering the axe for a moment to glance at the stack of firewood he’d chopped, looking like a mighty warrior surveying his lands.

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

You clear your throat, cheeks darkening crimson, and take in a shaky breath to dissipate the daydream that usually starred in several of your fantasies. The same ones that probably came from the romantasy book that you’d brought along on this trip and were too embarrassed to read when anyone else was awake.

He raises a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, shuffling it back through his hair that turns a chestnut brown in the light of the setting sun that flickered through the thick forest surrounding the small cabin you were all staying in.

Oh to be a drop of sweat.

You think mournfully, taking a long sip of your lemonade out of a brightly colored bendy straw, the same lemonade that you’d made in hopes of enticing Butcher over for a break.

It had worked, but only for twenty seconds.

Twenty glorious seconds that you got to bask in Butcher’s presence so close that you could smell the familiar cologne and the scent of sweat clinging to his skin while he drank the lemonade and you tried not to stare at his bare chest for too long. You hoped that Butcher thought the flush on your cheeks had everything to do with the heat and nothing to do with all the things you were imagining him doing to you.

And then there had been an additional two seconds when Butcher smiled at you and said “Thanks poppet” in the swoon worthy accent of his that made your knees weak before he sauntered back over to the woodpile and you watched him go shamelessly.

Hughie says something to Butcher you can’t hear, but it makes Butcher laugh. He throws his head back with a wide grin that makes you sigh to yourself again, hands tensing where they sit poised over the tangle of wires in your lap.

You were supposed to be working on a new gadget to help grapple up buildings, one that you and Frenchie had designed together, but you were distracted by Butcher.

You were always distracted by him.

It had been three days since Butcher, Soldier Boy, Hughie, and you arrived at the cabin in the middle of nowhere after a mission went wrong. The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face.

You had a sneaking suspicion that MM and Frenchie had something to do with the miscommunication, given how eager they had been to stay behind at headquarters and do paperwork, and the secretive smiles they had shared at the briefing before your team left.

But needless to say, none of you had been eager to live through a reenactment of the eighth plague and all decided to lay low to consider your options, while hoping the locust supe didn’t decimate all of the corn in the midwest.

You shudder remembering the crawl of the scratchy legs along your skin, the flapping of millions of wings like the beat of a drum, the crunch of locusts underfoot, and the low pitched hum of the swarm that vibrated so loud it made you feel your body shaking from the inside out.

At this point I would have taken a swarm of guinea pigs.

The cabin wasn’t the worst place you’d stayed at in all the time you’d worked with Butcher. There was running water and several rooms inside including two bedrooms with lumpy pillows and mattresses with creaking springs, a living room with a sagging floral couch, and a threadbare kitchen with dusty cabinets and doors that fell off whenever someone tried to open one.

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing.

Sure the cabin had it’s quirks, but the real problem was that the four of you were trapped here in the middle of summer with a generator that only did so much for electricity, but had no air conditioning whatsoever, which meant it was cooler to sit outside on the porch than inside the sweltering cabin.

Overall, it had been three days of nothing, but listening to Soldier Boy bitch about the lack of extracurricular activities, three days of nothing but hearing the soft chuckle under Hughie’s breath when he texted Annie, and three days of nothing but you lusting after a man who was twice your age chopping wood.

Why was he chopping wood when it was so hot and none of you needed it… You had no idea, but you figured that the universe was finally throwing you a bone because you got to watch him do it.

The porch was cooler than sitting inside. There were two creaky rocking chairs that faced the overgrown “front yard” that was more of a clearing and the breeze did weave under the overhang of the roof to wick the sweat that gathered at the back of your neck, but the problem was, it was impossible for you to feel anything but warm, especially with what was unfolding in front of you.

The weather isn’t the only thing heating up.

You think to yourself watching Butcher lean down to pick up another piece of wood, admiring the way his worn dark jeans cup his muscular ass.

Fuck, I’m just as bad as Soldier Boy.

The truth was, you’d been crushing on Butcher for the better part of two years since the moment the two of you met on your first day when you’d tripped and dropped the giant pile of blueprints you were carrying to your desk and he was the only one who stopped to help you pick them up.

After Homelander had been stripped of his powers and exposed for the narcissistic psychotic freak he was, you’d started working at Supe Affairs, thinking that it was the perfect way for you to make a difference in a world reeling from the revelation. It had shaken quite a few people to know that the so-called heroes they looked up to were in fact just as crooked as a line drawn by an elephant on a tricycle.

But you liked your job… sometimes.

Sure, the pay sucked, the benefits were dismal and the hours were long, but you didn’t care about any of that. You felt like you were making a difference, using the engineering degree that your dad had insisted on for something other than trying to figure out how to build a bridge that withstood the force of a punch from someone as strong as Homelander.

And you hadn’t meant to develop a crush on William Butcher of all people, you swore that each day to yourself, but it happened without warning. He was nice to you, he always had your back on missions, and sometimes when you were working on something after hours on a mission- like the gadget in your lap- Butcher would sit with you while everyone else slept, nursing a glass of whatever it was he had, and he always made you feel like a valued member of the team.

Yes, he might be a little rough around the edges, but you liked that about him, that he didn’t pull punches, rather he told it like it was. It was refreshing in the world you lived in when everyone else was so afraid of offending someone that they just kept their mouths shut.

But the problem was that you were younger than him and a little inexperienced.

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

That might be a little harsh, he knew you existed, obviously, but rather he didn’t see you as anything more than a teammate or at least like a little sister. The nicknames that he called you were all some form of “kiddo” or “poppet.” Nothing like the things you’d read about men calling the women they loved in books or heard in movies.

The most experience you had in the realm of love and relationships was binge watching Sex and The City (you could quote it by heart), flipping through Cosmopolitan Magazine and other articles about love on the internet like they were opioids, and reading through romance novels reverently as if they held the secrets of the universe.

Not to mention the draft of the romance novel on your computer… but you’d go to the grave before anyone ever saw that, and if they did see it you’d take them with you.

Reading about relationships was easier than having one, at least that was what you told yourself to feel better. It also didn’t help that you’d seen two out of three sisters married with kids, with the third one getting married in a few weeks and you without even a shadow of a date for the wedding.

That meant you would be stuck at the awkward reject table again with your weird fourth cousin who always came on to you and tried to show you the rooster tattoo he had on his hip bone, your dad’s brother who cleaned his dentures in public after he ate and his wife who always asked you what you were “doing” with your life and curled her lip up in distaste no matter what you said, and the gaggle of their ungrateful children who were always sticky for some reason and chewed with their mouths open while spilling food all over the table like cavemen.

Sitting there with them made facing the locust supe more appealing.

But even with the pressure of trying to find someone, anyone to take, you couldn’t muster up the courage to tell Butcher how you felt about him.

Butcher glances over as if he can sense you and you immediately drop your eyes to the bundle of gears and wires in your lap pretending to fiddle with something that doesn’t need to be fixed.

Yes, because that’s the way I’m going to win him over, by making absolutely no eye contact. Perfect, masterful. What can go wrong?

What the books, magazines, tv shows, and movies didn’t prepare you for was how to find the courage to talk to someone of the opposite sex without feeling like your tongue was going to drop out of your mouth or like you were going to throw up.

You wait a few beats until you’re sure that he’s no longer looking at you before you raise your head to watch Butcher again.

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm.

“What?” You ask him.

He exhales a long and obnoxious cloud of foul smelling smoke from the joint he has in his hand. “I think you’re a hypocrite.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re out here eye-fucking that asshole and you yell at me for staring at you.” He chuckles with a wide smirk as he takes another hit from the blunt.

How can he smoke that? It’s like 100 degrees out here!

“I am not!” You reply as loudly as you dare, glancing over to Butcher to make sure that he didn’t hear Ben’s comment, anxiety prickling along the back of your neck, but he’s still talking to Hughie about something. “And you don’t just stare at me! You come up behind me like some gremlin out of hell, with your big hands and-”

“We both know how much you like the attention doll.”

“I do not!” Your cheeks flare bright red.

The only downside to working on Butcher’s team was sitting directly next to you. When you found out that you’d be working with Soldier Boy, one of your dad’s favorite heroes, you were excited to meet him, and then you had and he turned into another giant disappointment. He was loud, brash, short-tempered, rude, and was always either ogling you, coming on to you, smoking something, or drinking.

You supposed it could be worse. You didn’t hate him, and you got along with him, but he was always around. The plus side was that Ben was the one of the only people you didn’t have a hard time talking to.

Yes, he was attractive, but his particular lifestyle didn’t appeal to you and for that reason whatever nerves you had about talking to attractive men of the opposite sex evaporated when it came to Ben.

It was unfortunate that such a skill was wasted on him of all people.

“I just-” You hesitate, eyes dropping back down to the grappling device in your lap, not sure why you’re about to admit this to Soldier Boy when you haven’t been able to admit it to anyone else.

Probably because I’m sick of singing the line from Frozen “conceal don’t feel” over and over in my head.

“I find him extremely attractive.” You mumble on a shaky breath.

“I’m sitting right here.” The frown in Ben’s voice is prominent, but it only makes you roll your eyes at him.

“I know.” Your eyebrows furrow together. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why are you looking at him when you could have my full attention.” He leans forward, dark hair falling forward into his eyes, mouth pulling up in a confident smirk. "I mean there's nothing else to fucking do, might as well do me."

Your cheeks flush with his words, but you tilt your head to the side to study him, eyes slipping over his rugged features. Tracing over the neatly trimmed beard on his cheeks, the brilliant green eyes that seemed to glow, the way his muscular body filled out his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the soft dusting of freckles that contrasted the hardness of the man he was flecked over his skin, and his full lips that are curved up in a sinful smirk that would make even the strongest woman crumble.

But not you. Ben was… Ben. He was brash, obnoxious, handsy, impatient, and disrespectful.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Sure you didn’t work with him often, but you believed you had a pretty good grasp on the kind of person he was. You did, right?

“You’re not my type Benny.” Your eyes flick back to the project in your lap, moving your fingers deftly through the wires of the internal mechanism.

Ben recoils at the use of his nickname, but he recovers with a low chuckle. “Don’t call me that and I’m everybody's type.”

“Not mine. I don’t like supes.”

You weren’t sure if that was 100% true. You liked Kimiko. What you meant to say was that you didn’t like supes like him. Supes that used his powers without care for the consequences, Supes like Homelander who didn’t give a shit who got hurt as long as the job was done.

And you weren’t a supe, which meant that if you were with a supe there was always the possibility of you dying during sex or dying before you had sex in the first place. Your job also presented the possibility of you dying before you’d had sex, but you weren’t going to let that hold you back.

“But Butcher has-” Ben begins to say.

“Temporary powers. Not all the time.” You correct, unable to stop your eyes from drifting back over to where Butcher has begun to start swinging the axe again. “And look at him. Fuck, he’s over there like Paul Bunyan, rugged, chopping wood-” You sigh continuing to watch the man who probably has no idea you exist.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I could do that.”

You don’t pay Ben any attention, because Butcher is bending over again and you bite the inside of your cheek hard.

Ben sits there for another few beats watching you watch Butcher. The wind chimes that hang above your heads jingle merrily as the breeze picks up once more bringing the smell of the wild flowers and wet earth from the forest surrounding the cabin.

“You know I could help you.” Ben says slowly.

Your eyes flick back to Ben from Butcher in confusion. “Help me?”

What is he talking about? Does he think he can figure out how to fix the grapple gun? The other day he couldn’t figure out how to open the automatic trunk of a car and he just ripped the trunk door right off.

“Get him.” Ben nods his head in Butcher’s direction, but you’re still confused.

“How?”

And why? Why does Soldier Boy want to help me of all people?

“Well, I could help you make him jealous.” Ben leans towards you, his eyes sweeping once over you as he does, lingering too long on your chest and the edge of the jean shorts you were wearing.

“And how would you do that?”

“Well for starters you could come sit on my lap baby, see how you like it.” Ben winks. “Take me for a little ride.”

“Pass.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh I see you want to have a more advanced lesson.” He smiles, scooting his chair towards yours, a dull scrape of wood on wood, so now his knee is touching yours. “He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

“No thanks.” You interrupt, face flushing when you imagine what he was about to say.

Ben stiffens in surprise. “What?”

“I’m good.” You shrug. “I’m gonna get him the old fashioned way.”

The same old fashioned way that I’ve been using for the past two years and had absolutely no results.

“And what way is that? Pining after him and hoping that one day he’ll finally notice you?” Ben scoffs. “I can see how well that’s working for you doll-face. How long have you been working with him?”

“Two years-”

“Fuck, two years?” Ben sputters. “You should just tell him that you want him to fuck you.”

“That won’t work.”

Ben’s face scrunches in confusion, the joint clasped in between his thumb and forefinger forgotten. “Why the hell not?”

“Because-” You glance down at your hands, thumb running along the jagged edge of the grappling hook slightly embarrassed. The last thing you wanted to tell Soldier Boy was that you were a virgin. The guy would mock you endlessly. “Because I’m younger than him and he’s-”

He’s experienced.

“So? You think that he hasn’t thought about fucking you?” Ben takes a long sip from the whiskey sitting beside his chair. “He’d be lucky to have a little piece like you.”

You blink in surprise. It was the closest to a compliment that Ben had ever given you. He did tend to compliment your figure whenever you were around, but you usually ignored that because he did that to everyone.

Truthfully, the thought of dating Ben didn’t appeal to you at all, but the thought of using him to make Butcher jealous was not a terrible one. And at this point, you didn’t have anything to lose.

Well… except THAT, but you wanted it to be special, at least that’s what you’d always told yourself.

You sigh, a little frustrated, watching Butcher out of the corner of your eye swing the axe in a glorious arch to the earth. You weren’t sure how to get Butcher’s attention. You’d tried the usual things…

Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation.

Gone completely mute when he asked you a question.

Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room.

Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

Basically the social anxiety was working wonders on the office romance you wanted so badly.

“Ben?” You say tentatively, hands tightening on the contraption in your lap. At this rate you were never going to fix it and Butcher was going to have to figure out how to fly.

“Yes, gorgeous?” Ben raises an eyebrow. The blunt is between his lips now and he’s looking at you curiously.

“If we did pretend to be…” You swallow nervously.

“Fucking?” He leans forward eagerly, eyes twinkling with interest.

Well… I’ve never understood what it meant when someone wrote “his eyes darkened” until this very moment.

“Dating” You correct holding up a finger.

Does his mind always go to the gutter?

You remember everything you think you know about Ben.

Yes. Yes it does.

Ben leans back with a frown. “I don’t date.”

“Well it wouldn’t be real! You’d just be helping me make him jealous and it would be nice to have a little practice maybe…”

“Practice?” He looks confused. It wasn’t the first time he had in this conversation or within the last five minutes, but like hell you were about to admit without at least one drink to Soldier Boy the extent of your dating life.

“Yeah. I’m not the best at talking to people or-”

“You’re talking just fine right now.”

“You’re different.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you annoy me and I don’t know you’re easier to talk to for some reason!”

“Thanks.” Ben says dryly.

By now all the anxious energy has begun to pop and crackle against your skin at the thought of what the two of you could be doing and at the thought of you two actually pulling this off and you having a shot with Butcher. Not just a shot in hell, a real shot.

“But if you’re serious about helping me get him-“ You continue.

“I was.”

It was odd that he was the one who had suggested this in the first place, and even weirder that he didn’t seem hesitant at all to be doing this.

Maybe he thinks that we’re going to have sex. Your throat tightened at the thought, eyes widening, your nerve endings electrifying with anxiety. Oh holy fuck what if he thinks that if we do this he’ll get to do whatever he wants to me?

You clear your throat, heart beating just a little bit harder in your chest. The entire situation was making you regret the extra cup of coffee you had this morning. “What exactly would I have to do?” You don’t recognize your voice. It comes out a little more wobbly and just a little more tentative than it was.

You didn’t know what Ben was expecting you to do and you didn’t want to say yes, only for him to force you into sleeping with him like he’d suggested earlier, the most you'd thought the two of you would do is just make out a little-

Oh holy fuck then we’d have to kiss and I don’t know if I’m a good kisser and he’s definitely kissed more than one person not to mention he’s-

The thought made you flush to the roots of your hair.

Ben hesitates, eyeing you and you wonder if he can hear the deranged monologue inside your head or if he can hear just how hard your heart was beating. You hoped not.

“You wouldn’t have to do anything, doll. I’m not going to force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” There’s something genuine in his eyes when he answers your question, something that you’d never noticed before.

Your mouth drops open in surprise.

It wasn’t that you believed that Ben was that kind of man, but rather that what he just said to you might have been the most caring thing that he’d ever uttered in front of you. He was the last person that you’d expect to care about someone being uncomfortable or care if someone else was okay with everything that was happening in the bedroom.

Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

In all honesty you only knew the way Ben acted, you didn’t know anything about his life. The man kept his cards closer to his chest than a well-seasoned card player and his poker face, forget it. You couldn’t crack that combination even if you wanted to.

Everything else you'd heard about him was through the grapevine of gossip at work. None of it was first hand.

Ben sighs and shakes his head at you as if he’s a little annoyed with himself for saying that out loud. “But I still think it would be easier if you just told him that you wanted him to fuck you. Would’ve worked on me.”

“I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

And it was true. You could take down a target, diffuse a bomb in less than ten seconds with a thin mint and a bobby pin, but saying something out loud like that to something else made you feel nauseous.

Ben hesitates again and in his hesitation the anxiety and embarrassment starts to come soaring back into your chest.

You were asking Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy, to pretend to date you so Billy Butcher would fall in love with you.

Well kids, this must be what rock bottom feels like. I might as well just pray that the locusts come back to take me away.

“Fine.” Ben states.

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer.

“We’d have to have rules.” You blurt, and Ben makes a face.

“Rules? Never been too good with those, Sweetheart.”

“And I’d need you to promise that you wouldn’t-”

You lose your train of thought in the wind chimes that rattle over your head and the sound of Butcher’s laugh.

“Wouldn’t?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Lose control.”

Honestly, sometimes you were a little afraid of Ben. You’d never say that out loud or admit it, but he was stronger than Homelander.

You knew Ben's reputation around the office- heard the hushed whispers of the women in the break room who said he was the best fuck of their lives, heard the horror stories of what he did to his old team, and had seen first hand what his temper was like. You also knew about his powers and worried that Ben might have a little bit of a control problem or at the very least anger management issues.

“I’m not going to fucking hurt you if that’s what you think.” Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at your insinuation. “I’m not some fucking monster, doll.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-”

Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this.

Keep it together…

“I wouldn’t hurt you by accident either.” Ben’s green eyes are focused on yours, and you can see just a sliver of emotion behind them that you can’t identify. “But if we’re going to do this you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What?” Your voice comes out like a squeak.

“You’ve got to promise not to fall in love with me.” He sends you a saucy wink that makes you want to punch the strongest man on earth, instead you settle for pushing him back from you.

But you’re not prepared for the wave of disappointment you feel when he lets go of your chin.

“I’m not in any danger of that Benny. You’re not half as smooth as you think you are.” You start to lean back in your chair, but Ben reaches out to grab your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle, the contact burning through your body, as he pulls you forward, so close you can smell his cologne. Somehow it's something that smells classic and modern at the same time, a hint of spice that tickles your nose and makes your throat tight.

His voice lowers into a purr that vibrates through his chest, his next words expelled on a warm breath that weaves through the air between the two of you.

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.”

What have I gotten myself into?

A/N: Again, not what I was expecting, but I really love this one y'all and I probably laughed way too hard at bits when I was writing it.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist please let me know!

Taglist

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @waynes-multiverse

@jollyhunter

#william butcher x reader #soldier boy x reader #the boys x you #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x reader #karl urban #karl urban characters #karl urban x reader #jensen ackles #jackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles characters #lovelyreaders!

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chanranghaeys · 2 days ago

Text

☀️ here, there, and everywhere

This journal belongs to: me. If found, please contact this number. (And please do not read it—unless you want to read the ramblings of a person who fails to deny their feelings for a certain someone.)

pairing: lee chan x gn!reader word count: 2.5k+ genre: fluff for (belated) happy chan day and carat day! rating: pg tags: college friends, they grew up, time skips between entries, mutual pining, happy (open) ending, stream of consciousness, excessive italics, please read the whole thing as if it were a private journal of sorts warnings: mentions of alcohol, death of a family member (brief mention, off the page)

a/n: this is a self-indulgent piece on my ultimate crush and the love of my (kpop) life, lee chan. i can’t keep denying you, so here we go. in an alternate universe, you would’ve been my best friend that i loved to hate and hated to love, until one of us finally gave in to our feelings and hoped for the best. happy birthday chan! you’ve given me nothing but color in my life ever since i became a carat. i wish you all the beautiful flower paths ahead ✨

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Dear Chan,

You must think me pathetic if you ever found one of these letters.

It sucks…this little crush I’ve discovered I have on you. And I am only saying this ONCE on the page. And to no one else. Because when you talk about a crush, it only grows, right?

So I'll just talk about it to myself.

I hate crushes because they are so unexplainable. They’re unexplainable feelings that latch on to you so hard and never let you go until you fumble and mess up and just make an utter fool of yourself.

I first found out I had a crush on you last month.

I had long admired you from afar through your dancing. You’re beautiful when you dance—in the zone, focused, bursting with energy. I’m genuinely jealous of how you can do the things you do with your body, how you tell such beautiful stories with every little move you make.

But it was that time during a production runthrough—the simultaneous evaluations—where you made that one mistake almost fatal to your team on that one sequence you spent weeks perfecting.

Yet there you were onstage, just laughing it off. So instead of your team being anxious or frustrated, they just laughed along with you.

It turned out to be the best performance of the night, your laughing played off as banter and camaraderie by the guest audiences.

That’s when I first felt the intense grip of this thing called feelings on my poor little heart.

Absolutely disgusting.

Anyway.

This “writing letters I'll never send to you” is all just for me to really process all these feelings I’ve discovered for you. No other reason aside from that. In my head, this is a form of acknowledgment so I can easily get over whatever this is.

So yeah. Feelings. A crush. On you—someone younger than me—of all people. I can’t believe it.

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

We were crossing the street when you suddenly held my hand. You did that to pull me to the other side of the road farther from the direction of the car.

“Be careful,” you said.

I shouldn’t feel special. Maybe you do this with everyone else anyway.

I hate how I can’t help but feel just a teensy bit special. Indulge me on this.

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I hate how you’re so stubborn. I hate how you’re so passionate. I hate how you’re such an amazing dancer. If I didn’t know better, I’d be so goddamn jealous of you.

Well, maybe I already am.

But above all that, I feel so in awe of you.

I hate how amazing you are in everything you do.

I hate how you’re actually inspiring me to be a better person. Little by little.

You’re inspiring me to be more diligent, to work harder, to believe in myself and my artistry way more than I ever thought I could—even through the infinite doubts.

Because that’s what you do to me.

“You can do it!” you said. “I’ll be right in the audience cheering for you, too. Because you’re my number one supporter, I’ll also be your number one supporter.”

I hate how you’re right. Why do you always have to be right?

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I don’t get it. I really don’t.

I don’t understand why you would do such things to me and for me.

It was such a simple and offhand remark.

“Is that a new necklace?” you asked.

“Nah,” I replied.

“It’s pretty. I don’t usually see you wearing that necklace. Where's the other one? The silver one with the daisy pendants?”

It was only because that one—my favorite one—broke and I didn’t have the time to have it fixed yet. Too busy with org scheds.

And you know what you said?

“Give it to me. I’ll have it fixed.”

What in the actual—

You didn’t have to do it, Chan.

Yet there I was, handing over my most prized possession...to you, my...friend.

You better give it back to me fixed, or else.

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

We’re in the library pretending to study for this godforsaken exam. I’ve practically given up on it.

(lol just kidding I can’t do that)

So we’re on a break. You’re sitting right in front of me, writing something down in your own notebook. Good thing the tables are a bit wide. I really wish that you won’t be able to see your name plastered on top of this page.

I never pegged you for someone who writes. In my head, I will take this as my own influence over you after my constant stories of how journaling and writing is such a simple thing that can heal you so easily and thoroughly.

Maybe my influence, and Seungkwan’s as well. At least he’s a good influence.

It was so funny, even, how you made a huge show of showcasing your little black notebook. When you opened it, I saw that it was already bookmarked at the halfway point.

So you do write. You have been writing.

Stop making my crush on you grow. Stop.

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

You were so drunk last night. I don’t think you’ll remember any of it today.

But I remember everything crystal clear.

You’ve had how many bottles of soju at that point. You slung your arm around me and leaned your head on my shoulder. Never mind how fast my heart was beating at that point. Whether from alcohol, or you know what, I will never know.

You told me, “You’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

Your best friend.

A friend.

A stake to the heart would’ve hurt less, in my opinion.

But then again, better a best friend than nothing at all.

I wish I was as drunk as you were last night. Maybe I could forget that one sentence and just carry on living as if this thing between us is nothing.

As if us holding hands the entire night last night under the guise of you “needing a steady hand to hold so you wouldn't fall because you were drunk as hell” is no indication of any thing.

Whatever this thing is.

Sincerely,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I promised not to write anymore—believe me I tried. We’re best friends, right?

Best friends meet up for breakfast before going separate ways for the day, right?

Best friends make sure to ask if you’re home at the end of every day, right?

Best friends have random snacks or your go-to pick-me-up drink delivered to you when they know you’re having a terrible day, right?

Best friends do that, right?

Even if they’re both in separate relationships already?

I’m so confused. I shouldn’t be, but I can’t make it make sense.

Maybe it’s just me and these lingering and unresolved feelings. I hate them.

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

Thank you for meeting me as soon as I called. Thank you for holding me as my world fell apart. Thank you for comforting me even as my tears fell. Thank you for being reliable. Thank you for giving me my comfort ice cream. Thank you for helping me through this breakup even though I know you’re on the brink of your own.

Thank you for being a friend—my friend.

Thank you for always catching me whenever I fall.

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I’m sorry about the breakup…or am I?

I’m not too sad about it, I’m sorry. I always knew they were a bit off for you. But I hope I’ve been the right kind of friend that you need right now.

Or however you need me. I'll be here for you, the same way you were for me. You know that right?

I know you held back a few tears when we were at the cafe earlier. You loved them, for sure. I know how far you go for love—that's how true your love is.

But you should've seen the look in your eyes. It tells me you’re not too too sad about it either.

Or maybe it’s just me.

Yeah, definitely just me.

Maybe it was more of me wanting to see the spark in your eyes again after you kept denying that it had been gone for so long.

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

You should've seen your face earlier. It was so…

With all of your hip-hop and R&B playlists, I never pegged you to be one to appreciate any of the oldies.

“This is my favorite Beatles song,” I said.

You immediately stopped scrolling the phone hidden behind the book reading the book in your hand to listen to “Here, There, and Everywhere” playing from the cafe's tinny speakers, straining to make it out above the chatter of the establishment.

You said you'll pull up the lyrics to read, and as you did, the smile on your face grew ever so slowly with every word that your eyes traveled to. You started to slightly bob your head to the beat while mouthing some of the lyrics as the song continued on.

Okay, fine, I was watching you. You didn't notice anyway.

“It’s a great song,” you said. You looked up with this sense of meaning in your eyes. I feel like mine had a look of question marks in them.

Your fingers danced on your phone. I’m sure you added it to one of your playlists. Well, I hope.

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

This is the last letter I’ll write. I promise.

It’s graduation tomorrow. If you give me nothing and nothing happens within the next month of tomorrow, I will stop this nonsense and maybe try to finally get over these feelings I seem to have for you.

Whatever it is.

I just…don’t think I can bring myself to do it first.

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

This is so random but you just suddenly crossed my mind. And I remembered this notebook full of so-called "unsent letters to you."

I wonder how you are and if you're doing okay. I don't know why we grew apart after graduation. I just...I don't know. I can't even think about it without my head aching.

It does kind of feel like there's a hollow void in the shape of you somewhere in my body, particularly somewhere around my chest area.

(nope, I won't say it)

I hope you're doing alright.

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I can’t believe you came. It's been five years since we saw each other, three since we last spoke, yet you came—the person I least expected to see in the wake.

I never thought there'd be another letter but how could I not write anything?

I didn’t realize how painful and heavy it was to lose my grandfather until you hugged me. You were the first one to see my tears. You were the only one brave enough to hold my broken pieces without caring if you'd get cut by my sharp edges.

How you were able to do it even after all these years will forever be a mystery to me.

Thank you for catching me before I further shattered myself.

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I’m still reeling from recent events.

It was so nice to see you again last night, though. Thanks for dragging me out of my apartment. It’s been so long since we went out like that, just for some frozen yogurt, which naturally turned into a few drinks because after all, it’s still the two of us together.

But good lord help me, I’m still in a daze. How can I be normal when I just dropped the biggest truth bomb of my life thus far?

I told you, “Maybe I’ve always wondered what it would be like if we ever tried before.”

But you know what you said? You know what you frickin’ said?

“I wish you told me earlier. Why didn’t you?”

Well, why didn’t you??????

I swear I could’ve combusted on the spot if I could. I swear I just said that so I could finally let go of this weight from my chest.

But you know what you did?

You walked me home. You made sure I was safe.

And then you visited this morning with coffee and breakfast to nurse the drinks from last night.

You’re just outside my room right now, sitting on my small couch, playing Beatles songs from the speakers. You’re waiting for me to finish whatever I’m doing here because you’re taking me out to see this movie I told you I wanted to watch. Why?

“We have to make up for lost time,” you said.

Chan, what are you doing? Just tell me so I know what I should do.

What do I do with you now?

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Happy Chan Day!

I hate you.

I wish you told me about your party earlier! I mean, even hours earlier, not like an hour or two right before.

Okay, I know it’s a spontaneous birthday party and all—I GET IT. But please tell your friends to at least invite your other friends beforehand? So we can also prep stuff for you, okay? I moved around so many schedules for this—for your party. How could I not?

So I hope you’ll forgive me for not preparing your gift yet. I was planning to get it in the coming days when my sched was relatively freer. Still, I’m really, truly sorry for not getting you a gift. I know you like getting gifts because you like giving them as well.

You know, it’s your birthday, yet you were the one who said something that was almost like a gift to me.

You said, “Don’t bother with the gift. As long as you’re here with me, I don’t really need anything else.”

Chan, I still hate you. I think.

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I’ve come to the harrowing realization that I’m in love with you.

No scratch that. I love you. Throughout all these years, I’ve always loved you.

How’s that for a hit-me-with-a-firetruck realization?

Yours truly (I wish),

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

Do not laugh at me. Do not be condescending. Do not dismiss me—your best friend. Do not leave me hanging. Just…do not.

When I show you this, just don’t.

Just read it.

Yours truly,

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Hey, you.

If only you knew how many pages I’ve written about you. Glad to know I’m not the only one doing so.

It started on that day we were in the library. I’d already written about so many things, but that was the first time I ever wrote about you. I’ve never stopped writing since.

And even in pages full of you writing about me, I still write about you.

You’ve always been here, there, and everywhere to me.

Yours, truly and only yours,

Chan

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

NOW PLAYING: seventeen's playlist - song # 2

“To lead a better life / I need my love to be here // … // will be there and everywhere / Here, there and everywhere”

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neunnnnnnn · 2 days ago

Text

⋆｡˚୨My extraterrestrials experiences after shifting୧˚｡⋆

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

extraterrestrials- "They are beings or life forms that originate from outside Earth, typically from other planets, moons, or even different galaxies."

Okay apparently they are Aliens and not Spirits or ghosts( That was my mistake, but I lowkey still think they are spirits.. atleast through my experiences)

One thing that surprised me was that extraterrestrials exist, it was one thing no one would convince me were real because it didn't make sense to me in anywayyy, I couldn't fathom how they were other beings like with flesh that existed with us but it changed after I first discovered shifting.

I'll mention 6 of them because there are honestly alot I could write a whole ass 20 pages and I'm not even kidding.

I WILL BE REFERING TO THEM AS "IT" or "THEY" BECAUSE I DON'T THINK THEY HAVE GENDERS.... well I honestly couldn't tell.

I assigned them names because why not, except from one who already had a name.

LONG POST AHEAD‼️

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Lina☾

I first met Lina when I 1st astral projected for the 1st time, I kid you not I was scared asf. And its understandable because I was still beleving that spirits and demons are scary and that I am going to die if I ever meet one. Lets just say I screamed myself back into my body and started going to church again😃. We met again after 2years because I was so scared that I did not attempt anything spiritual for 2 whole years!!.

I tried astral projecting again and they came to me as soon as I was exploring outside my room. Again I was scared asf but I kept telling myself that I was safe and in control. I tried speaking to them at first but they was just staring at me and I was starting to get uncomfortable and I wanted to leave but I didn't know if it was going to attack me or not.

As I started to leave they talked to me, but it was telepathic because... okay first of all it had no mouth but I could hear its voice in my head. ( and I have to add that it had no normal voice but it was like static? that's the only way I can describe it.)

Anyway they asked me where I was going to which surprised me because...wtf why would they ask me where I'm going. I was legit scared and was finding a way to leave and it said something that shocked me that I even made a post abt it ( The post).

I didn't get to answer them and they disappeared and I was brought back to my body. I have never seen them again and I would lowkey want to just to show it how much I've improved now😂.

2. Areꕤ

I am so sure she is a female because of the aura that she was emitting to me felt so safe and cuddly.

I met her after my first time shifting. I still remember that feeling that I had of not wanting to go back to my cr but at the same time fearing that I might miss my parents if I decide to just stay here, I went to bed in my reality and said my safeword but instead of returning to my cr I went straight to the void. I didn't fully understand what the void was at that time so I assumed I was dreaming or something.

I suddenly started feeling my surroundings changed and I was in a field, I told myself that I was lucid but it didn't quite feel like I was in a lucid dream but I knew deep down that I said that because I didn't want to scare myself.

I suddenly had that feeling that I wasn't alone and when I looked to my right she was there literally close to me that I screamed a little. I moved away a bit and I remember feeling safe even though she had scared me. She was actually really helpful, because I kept asking questions after questions and even asked her if she's been to earth and she said yes but she didn't stay because of how low vibrational it was😭. One thing I will never forget is when I asked her If I should permashift or not because at that time I was so desperate to leave my cr but I was scared to leave my family and she said, "Reality belongs to you and only you, wherever you go your loved ones will also be there with you" I cried my eyes out lmao but it honestly changed the way I viewed permashifting. I still am planning to but I am now not in a hurry.

I have seen her again and I last saw her last year at around the time I was taking a break from shifting.

3.Beau𓇼

This one was interesting and kind of playful and I'm glad that I got to meet them after I had gotten rid of my fears.

They were in my Lucid dream and it appeared after I tried making a portal to shift to my WR. I was a bit frightened because it kept on changing forms? like it would change into my mom then my s/o then my teacher, it was honestly confusing and I asked them what they wanted and that's when it changed into its original form. Idk what to say to them and I assumed that maybe they were friends or atleast knew Are. But it didn't because it looked at me like I was crazy when I asked them about her.

Anyway I didn't really know what to do so I just kept on exploring the dream while they were following me around. I had a feeling that it was a child like around 9years in human age but who knows. they ended up scaring me awake tho😂.

Oh and I've never seen them again.

4.Slay⚘.

This is a recent and when I say it was kind of mean. And it was when I astral projected. The minute I opened my eyes it was in my room, ofc it scared the living shit out of me that I "ran" (not really) out of my room and it kept on following me, and I just screamed at it to leave me alone. And it did but I was scared that I just went back to my body 😭✋🏾

5. Doe༊·˚

Appeared to me while I was in my 80s reality and told me that they knew I was not from this reality ( the 80s one) and I was ofc shocked to my coreee because I thought they were going to prevent me from going back to my cr🤦🏽‍♀️.

They were a bit talkative, they were asking me alot of questions from why I shifted, to my life in my cr and I was lowkey skeptical that they wanted the info to take it to the government( The movies that I've watched!!! Omg 😭) Anyway I was answering some questions and was also asking them some but they refused to answer some but they said that they approached me because they could tell that my soul had recently arrived there!!!, which was honestly fun to hear, like they can tell if someone shifted here!!?

Anyways I didn't see them again when I recently shifted to my 80s reality.

6.Yui♡

That was there name when I had asked. They came to me in a lucid dream as I was flying but they were impersonating my childhood friend. I easily noticed and told them to reveal its real form and they looked shocked that I easily found out, but at this point it was easy.

They refused and wanted to stay in that form and I was like okay, whatever makes you happy I guess. But I had a feeling that they wanted something because I honestly don't think they would approach you for the fun of it?

But yeah they continued to hang out around me which was weirding me out because it making me become aware that the place that I was... was in my mind, like it was making me become so aware I didn't like it and I woke myself up.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Yeah I guess that's it ofc there are some that I didn't mention but I felt like these were the more interesting imo.

Shoutout to these beautiful people for asking me to make a post about it <3 ( @gonfreecs123) (@vwrtual )

I am happy to answer any questions you have🩷🩷

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

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itsrlymine · 2 days ago

Note

"i am gonna be so fr with y'all and give the tough love i wish i got at the beginning bc you literally have what you want as you read these words."

So everyone read this on your profile and still decided to bitch out on you in anons because they're losers in their own reality?? You literally told them how this blog is and they still read it, asked a dumb question, and then got upset. for all the people who are offended by ur posts, YOU ARENT ENTITLED!! THIS IS A LITERAL STRANGER DECIDING TO HELP YOU DON'T GET PISSED OFF WHEN THEY DO IT THE WAY THEY WANT! SHES NOT A PERSONAL COACH AND DOESNT NEED TO ACT A CERTAIN WAY TO YOUR LIKING!

I saw a stupid ass post that was like "Omg these bloggers saying they're giving "tough love" (we all know whos they talking ab) are just assholes because these people are people who are scared to manifest" So your telling me you're too scared to fucking ASSUME? bitch gtfo my face. "Oh god I need someone to sugarcoat everything about manifesting because I'm too scared to assume I have a fat ass"

Do you people realize how ridiculous that sounds? Anyways girl lmfao some of these anons aint shit. The loass community has gotten so fucking weird and toxic like and ur the only real one out there nowadays. urghh it makes my head hurt fr...

I don’t even know like😭😭 Reading is seriously essential. I wouldn’t say they are losers but they are definitely giving their power away when it’s not necessary. Like at all. Even though I’ve definitely called them losers before.

I don’t really care about how long it takes people to get what they want. Imagine getting mad bc im telling people they can just decide you have something instead of deciding to do a technique as a way like bro. Manifestation happens when you are aware of whatever you want being yours.

You can DECIDE manifestation is easy for you and it will be. You can DECIDE manifesting doesn’t take long and it won’t. You can DECIDE you have it now and you will!!

But if you don’t know who you are as consciousness, ofc you are gonna look to methods and anything outside of you to tell you it’s okay to have what you want. Reality is a mirror, not a remote control. You don’t have to press a button a thousand times to get one thing. You just change the channel once it’s done and boom, you’re seeing something new.

I don’t know. I guess it easier to spend time in the end of deciding whether or not you can get something than just having it😭😭😭

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scented-morker · 2 days ago

Text

The best part

bff riki x gn!reader, best friends to ?, no warnings, 653 words, cliffhanger 🤪

Everyone knows confessions are the best part of any love story, second only to the first kiss— bonus points if they happen in the rain or during a heated argument.

“Yn, Yn, Yn, Yn.”

You will NOT be missing this confession. You’ve been preparing for it for the last hour and 17 minutes of the movie, and Riki’s refusal to pay attention is not going to ruin it for you.

“Yn!!”

The love interest yells as the main character turns around, the rain drops starting to come down on the two of them.

“I’ve always loved you,” he says, pulling her even closer.

And then— nothing.

A pillow flies into your face, and you turn to Riki with murder in your eyes.

“Nishimura Riki I am going to kill you.”

Your best friend only laughs as you lunge across the couch at him, and the two of you easily fall into the same rhythm as usual.

You try your best to cause Riki as much pain as possible while he gives you just enough of a chance for it to still be fun.

He holds onto your fist as you go to hit his shoulder, laughter echoing through the room as he dodges your knee next. After about five minutes he decides he’s had enough, rolling the two of you over and pinning your hands next to your side.

“Feel better?” He teases, an eyebrow raised as you slowly stop squirming.

“Noooooo,” you whine, “you made me miss the best part!”

“The best part?” He scoffs. “That’s the worst part! You know it’s coming as soon as the movie starts.”

“You just don’t get romance!” You argue back.

That makes him pause, and he finally lets go of you enough that you can sit up, sparing a quick glance over only to be met with the credits rolling down your tv screen.

“Had it ever occurred to you that knowing something is coming is part of what makes it exciting? Of course the best friends become lovers. I know it’s going to happen, I just want to see it!”

For how loud he normally is, Riki remains completely quiet, not a single sound leaving his mouth as you grab the remote to rewind the movie.

“Has it ever occurred to you that we’ve spend more valentines days together than we have with people we were actually dating?”

The question seems random, and you look over at him in confusion, finding him staring back at you.

“Not really, I mean I guess it makes sense. We spend pretty much every day together.”

You laugh at the way it comes out, but it’s the truth. You and Riki had been inseparable since his family moved in next door to yours in kindergarten.

Even now, as the two of you recline on the futon in his dorm room, you know you’ve been in that exact spot more times than you’ve been in your own dorm.

“Does that make you sad?” He asks, and you try your best not to look at him in shock.

“Riks, why would that make me sad?” You laugh, scooting closer to where he’s sitting, completely unaware to the effect your movements have on the boy.

“You just love this cheesy romance stuff, and instead you’re stuck with me.”

You smile gently, and it’s the exact smile that first made him realize how utterly screwed he was.

“And you’re stuck with me. That’s how we are. Besides, you’re way better than any boyfriend I’ve had anyway.”

You don’t notice him leaning closer until his head is resting on your shoulder, and when he looks up, you finally notice it.

Riki’s entire face lights up when he grins up at you, not one ounce of his soft adoration concealed in his eyes.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and the words are coming out before you can think to stop them.

“Riki I love you.”

#riki scenarios #riki x reader #riki drabbles #enhypen niki x reader #enhypen niki fluff #riki fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #riki oneshots #Enhypen Niki drabbles

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moonshynecybin · 13 hours ago

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any humble updates on airport au...

context. SURE man what the hell. i actually have a good ass chunk written after this but hey. this is right after vale shows up at PI post sex dream and marc nearly crashes his scooter. happy birthday to these two filthy animals

Vale, like a mosquito, shows up at his box later that day, just before Marc is about to head out of the paddock. Probably because it’s a flyaway and he can’t show up at Marc’s motorhome to plague him there, and because he doesn’t know what house Marc and Álex are renting on the island.

He also, as a man put on the planet to consternate Marc, brings a good bottle of Merlot. And what with all of the recently healed very public animosity, it’s not like Marc can turn him away.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

“What was that about, this afternoon?” Vale asks immediately, rummaging around in the cabinets in Marc’s rider’s room and conjuring two cups without asking Marc if he even wants a glass. He’s pretty sure that the mug that Vale is eyeballing to see if it’s dirty is Jose’s.

He folds his knees up on the little couch in his rider’s room, a small act of self protection. He’s directly post-shower, and his hair is wet, his skin overheated. It's all a little — exposed. Like Vale might happen across his guts if their conversation winds down the wrong path. “I have a race tomorrow, quali, too— maybe I don’t want any wine.”

“God, I am glad I retired before they made us do sprints,” Vale cranks out the cork, then sniffs the bottle and makes a comically considering face until Marc breaks into a smile. He raises an eyebrow in the direction of the couch. “Well, do you?” He asks about the wine.

They sit and Marc takes his glass. Vale has unsubtly poured him a humongous portion.

“You didn’t answer me,” Vale ponders, sipping like a cat. “You know, you are not as good at lying as you think you are, it’s just that no one has the balls to call you out on it.”

Marc privately thinks that Vale is actually historically very bad at telling whether he is lying. He does not share this, he just crosses his arms on top of his knees.

“Hah, you should see my mom— she always let me blame stuff on Álex when we were young, it would make him so mad, and I would always get away with it.”

Turning towards him, Vale twists out of his hoodie, and Marc catches a soft strip of skin as his t-shirt rides up. The band of Vale’s underwear. He bites his lip and looks away. This is embarrassing.

“Hm, a born criminal, then? Not a learned one?” Vale is saying, throwing his hoodie over the chair and settling back on the couch.

Marc really hopes Vale has enough grace to let this afternoon go. He doesn’t have a lie ready, really, that he thinks Vale will believe.

“No, please. Most of those tricks I learned from you.”

“Like what?” He’s looking at Marc with big, innocent eyes.

He knows exactly what, he just likes to hear Marc say it.

“Lots of things. It’s probably the reason I was second place at Jerez in 2013, instead of third.”

It works, and Vale guffaws. Marc knew that it would— He used to love it when Marc would do shit to Jorge. Marc used to love doing shit to Jorge for that exact reason.

“Marc, please, please. We are in Australia, you have to pay your respects to Mick Doohan for inventing that move. He’s probably only about twenty meters away.” He drops his voice into a whisper. “Be careful, honestly maybe he can hear you.”

Marc looks at the ceiling, responds gravely, “I’m not a Repsol Honda rider anymore, I can do what I want.”

“Cin-cin. Hey, me neither,” Vale says brightly, and clinks his cup (José’s travel mug that says LESS TALK, MORE COFFEE) against Marc’s (a protein shake bottle that is missing its lid).

He can do what he wants. Marc turns that over, chewing on the edge of a thumbnail. He’s always thought so, but this is a little bit different. He changes the subject.

“Álex wants to go shopping on Monday at the airport, before our flight home. His girlfriend— it is her birthday on Wednesday, and he wants to get her this at one of the stores there, you know,” Marc pulls up his phone, finding a picture Álex sent him of the necklace. It's— Marc doesn't like it, but Marc’s picky. “And I think it is such a bad idea. It is so ugly, too much. He’s going to scare her.”

Vale looks for a second at the photo, picking at one of his nails, and then looks over at Marc.

“You wouldn't get that for your girl?”

“I wouldn’t get her something like that.”

“Well, what does she like?” Vale takes another pull of his drink, a little more subdued now. His face looks– pinched, for some reason. “Your girl. Maybe she has some ideas.”

“Oh, um.”

Vale just stares at him until he breaks. “No, no girlfriend. With travel, it's hard, you know.” Marc puts down his wine, leaning down to grab his racing boot and fiddle with it. “So. Not really looking.” The strap won’t close. He might need to get one of his backups tomorrow, for the race.

After a moment he notices Vale is still looking at him.

“Hm.”

“Yeah,”

“It’s hard.” Vale agrees, and then goes silent. “Tell Álex that the necklace is not so good. Try simple. Expensive.”

After a taught second where the both sip at their wine, Vale looks like he wants to say something more, but when he starts talking it's bright, airy, unrelated. Some story about him and Mick and being a Honda rider at the tobacco money fueled turn of the millennium, hands moving in the air as he mimes some poor mechanic scrambling to switch a tire. Marc watches, and he can’t stop looking at his hands, his neck, the way his mouth curves around syllables, the slant of his posture.

The thing he is realizing, while Vale boyishly shakes his head in a disapproving impersonation of Jeremy Burgess, is that— this hot fixation he’s discovered, it isn't a one-off. It's not the past, it's here, and it's now. He’d thought a little space would clean things up, work the frustration out of his bones, but the lack of space is serving to be just as clarifying a force. He sits and he stares. It's not just a dream or being pent-up from a long season, he’s not even sure that this is new. It doesn't feel like it is, it feels a lot like when he was 15 and meeting him, like when he was 20 and friends with him. Like when he was 21 and at the Ranch. Like when he was 22 and feeling like he was going to throw up, boring holes with his eyes in the side of Vale’s neck and willing him to look at him.

Hero-worship, he’d thought. The thrill of being friends with Valentino Rossi. People usually grow out of that, don't they? Marc didn't, and now he knows why.

He can do what he wants, Vale had said, except that he doesn't know that he can. Because what he wants, what he thinks he wants, well. That’s not really an option.

He takes his first sip of the night, and the Merlot bursts earthy and light on his tongue.

#classic fanfiction stuff here no frills #motogp #asks #callie speaks #rosquez #my fic #airport au

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flowercrowngods · 17 hours ago

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ughhh anyway marvey case fic in which harvey takes a case representing a client who it turns out is covering for someone and taking the fall. and when harvey finds out, he plans to relieve his client of all charges and make sure the right person gets the blame but his client doesn’t want that

turns out he’s (unknowingly lmao) in love with his semi-protégé coworker, and that he feels responsible for what happened and that he can take that fall with a good conscience etc etc anyway it all reminds harvey too much of him and mike and it’s what makes him realise that oh shit i would do the exact same thing for mike holy shit am i really in love with him?? meanwhile mike is just a tad slower on the uptake and races to harvey a couple days later with “harvey we can still win this case, he’s taking the fall for someone, we can expose him easily and all charges will be dropped” and presents evidence etc and harvey tries explaining that they can’t do that if that’s not what their client wants, and that they have to try and win this case anyway, despite the evidence and circumstance stacked against them.

mike won’t accept that, doesn’t understand, tries to sway him until harvey explodes that their client is in love with the other guy, and that the other guy might not even know — about the fall nor about the having fallen. this stuns mike, who never knew that harvey gave a shit about love in the courtroom, and this might not be his usual shtick simply about loyalty.

“and you just let him do this?”

“i’m not letting him do anything, it’s his own goddamn choice, mike. i’m trying to negotiate a deal that gets him out with no prison time, but he may lose his license and—“

“how can he do that?”

and harvey just looks at him, really looks at him, and wonders if mike really doesn’t see it. the parallels. the goddamn symbolism. and after a moment says, “people have done stupider shit for the ones they love.”

and all the air gets sucked out of the room when mike holds his eyes and understanding dawns. it’s quickly replaced by confusion and wonderment before it goes completely blank. a look he never even knew mike was capable of. harvey looks away.

he goes out there to try and score a win anyway. he doesn’t. their client does get a deal, but he loses his license. outside the courtroom, harvey sees him wrapped in the arms of the guy he protected and they’re both crying a little bit but then they kiss and it doesn’t look tinged with regret and harvey tries not to stare but he can’t ignore the heavy feeling lodged inside his chest, and he only looks away when it gets too painful to bear.

this case has cost him a lot, and there are walls he needs to rebuild and feelings he needs to un-realise and get over. instead of going back to the firm, he heads straight home, deciding that work can wait until tomorrow

later that night, a weary harvey is listening to music and nursing a glass of scotch when there’s a knock on the door. mike looks disheveled and a little bit crazed, but determined, and harvey knows the expression, knows not to ask stupid questions and just let the man in. he expects a last ditch effort at a solve, expects intel on another case, expects the smoking gun on something he’s long forgotten.

but it doesn’t come.

“people have done stupider things for the ones they love.”

and harvey sighs. goes back to his scotch and downs it in one go. mike doesn’t let go, though.

“like sticking their head out for the fraud they hired. like threatening their career, their livelihood and their personal freedom for the fraud they hired. like telling their boss ‘he goes, i go’.”

harvey frowns at that, and mike huffs, a little breath of a smile. “jessica told me.”

as if incentivised by the lack of protest, mike comes closer and some of the tension in his shoulders disappears.

“or like breaking a camera in a federal holding cell, yelling at me that i need to let you take the fall, before coming after the man who came after me. and keeping me around, all this time. bringing me back every chance you get. not letting me go.” he sighs, and somehow he’s in harvey’s space now. “stupid things like that?”

harvey can only swallow, and somehow mike’s cologne is in his nose, on his tongue, and he swallows his scent and it’s intoxicating and it’s addictive and it’s dangerous. everything about this. his client lost his license. he only just escaped prison time. that could be them. in a few years. next week. tomorrow. that could be them.

but mike is looking at him now and he’s… he never looked at harvey like this. and harvey is only human. his heart is thrashing against his ribcage so hard it rattles even his hands where they’re hanging by his sides, not knowing what to do.

“mike,” he breathes, and it could mean anything, really. i need you to leave. i need you to let this go. we can’t do this. yes, stupid things like that. what the hell are you talking about. i plead the fifth. he doesn’t say any of that.

“harvey,” mike whispers back, and he smiles, and he smiles so gently and so sweetly, his hand coming up to lightly trail along harvey’s cheek as if he seeks to map his face. harvey lets him. sways a little bit, further into mike’s space, into all that warmth.

and then, somehow, miraculously, they’re kissing. it steals harvey’s breath and warms him from the inside even though it’s not heated, not passionate or desperate.

it’s light. almost playful. it’s absolutely certain and relieved. it’s a promise and a question and an answer and nowhere close to a grand finale. it’s mike’s hand on his cheek and harvey’s hands holding his waist, feeling the soft fabric of the white dress shirt and soaking up the comforting warmth he finds underneath mike’s suit jacket.

they kiss, and it might last forever or maybe just a few seconds. the world doesn’t explode around them, fireworks don’t go off, the air doesn’t sizzle. it’s the complete opposite, actually.

everything slots into place; quiet and certain, like nothing else matters. it’s calm and it’s respite and it makes sense of everything.

it’s harvey and mike, and it’s a first kiss of many.

#marvey #harvey specter #mike ross #marvey fic #except it’s not but also i don’t have the energy to write all of that into a real fic so have this instead #suits usa #suits tv #suits #case fic

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bqstqnbruin · 1 day ago

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Letters Unsent

Listen listen I know this is my second Quinn fic in a row but I was scrolling through Libby yesterday during parent/teacher conferences and I saw a book that was about letters written between twins that never got sent and then I browned out and next thing I knew this fic was written.

Shoutout to @nicohischier for reading thing while I yelled about it in her dms when she was living life

Warnings: SA(?) (kissing without consent and then she knees him in the dick), swearing, drinking, mentions of sex, angst

WC: 4006

____________________

Dear Quinn,

My therapist told me I’m supposed to write letters to the people I wish I had one more conversation with. Apparently it’s supposed to help me get all the feelings that I’ve kept bottled up, out in a way where I don’t have to actually say them. Not only did she tell me I had to, but she told me she would read them. Talk about an unnecessary invasion of privacy. Is that even legal?

But, I’m paying her (or my health insurance is paying her) for a reason, and Kelly seems chill anyway, so I guess that’s fine. I’m writing to you and to my grandmother, the one who passed away when I was little, so don’t feel that special. You’re not even going to read these anyway, so I’m not sure why you would.

Do you remember when we first met? Elias was convinced that the two of us were meant to be, and for some reason, Brock and Ally agreed, too? Ally still brings up that even when we were friends, our entire friend group somehow knew that you and I would end up together. I’m actually surprised it was Elias who said it was us first, and not Ally. It was always supposed to be us.

I just wish we didn’t end that way.

Lov From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

I don’t remember the last time I went out to a bar and got as drunk as I did last night. Ally kept buying drinks (or, conning men into buying us drinks, her favorite pastime). I think the last time I really drank that much might have been the night we first met. Ally told me that I needed to go out for once and forget, since I’ve really just been moping around the apartment (Kelly I know you’re going to read this, calm down I’m writing it for a reason). But what’s the point of going out when there’s nothing to really see?

Going to bars bores me, you know this. Why spend money to get to the bar, then spend money to get into the bar, then spend more money once you’re inside the bar, then spend even more money to get home from the bar, when I can stay at home and drink for a lot less money and with a lot less people around?

Anyway.

I still don’t really understand how we all became friends. At that point, Ally was just my roommate, and it was just the two of us against the world. I think if Brock hadn’t spilled his drink all over me, we probably would have just avoided the three of you. The fact that we even went out in the first place was astonishing. I didn’t even realize what had happened, the fact that I was covered in some sticky, alcoholic liquid, until I heard you scolding him for it. Your voice is what pulled me in to the group, you were what kept me in.

Brock, of course, insisted he make up for it, as he would, while you just stood off to the side and laughed into your drink, the scolding from moments before gone while you watched Brock make a fool of himself (as Ally and I would later learn, was actually just him being him). He brought the five of us so many drinks, he might have spent a year's worth of his salary that night alone.

Ok, not his salary. My salary, maybe.

I don’t know what came over me that night we met, though. You know me well enough to know that I am not the type of person to do something big, or something that might scare me if I can help it.

Asking you to dance was definitely because of the alcohol. Working up the courage to do that when the rest of our friends were standing talking was easy because of the alcohol. There was something about the vibe that night that made me want to do it. Something inside me was telling me I had to, or that I would regret it.

Part of me does regret it, sometimes. But, fuck, I’m glad I did it.

Maybe that’s why they all say that we were meant for each other. Something about you had me doing things I never would have done otherwise. Ally took pictures of us while we were dancing. She said that we should use them for when the two of us inevitably got married. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at someone the way I looked at you.

Maybe it was the alcohol.

Maybe it was because you were looking at me the same way.

LoFrom,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

I hate my job I hate my job I hate my job I hate my job.

Something, something, Kelly would tell me that if this is making me this unhappy, that I should quit, blah, blah, blah.

In this economy, though??? With this job market??? Maybe I go to another country…

I fucking hate that one guy, Jamie. Do you remember him?

I feel like I ask you that a lot, if you remember certain things. I guess I’m just wondering if you think about me and us as much as I think about you. I hate how that sounds/reads/looks, but unfortunately for me, it’s true. I shouldn’t think about you as much as I do, but, here we are. That’s probably why you were the first person I thought of to write to when Kelly told me to start (sorry Grandma).

Anyway, Jamie was that guy we ran into that one night at the bar, before we started dating. Of course you remember him. You probably remember him more than you remember anything about me at this point.

He kept hitting on me, at one point had his hand on my arm and you went fucking crazy.

It was insanely hot.

I’ve told you that before, but I might as well tell you that again.

What was even hotter in the moment was when you came up behind me and wrapped your arms around my waist. I always felt safe in your arms, if I’m being honest. That’s fucking corny of me.

Whatever.

You came up behind me and told him that you were glad he was keeping me company, that I was safe with someone I knew. I’m almost positive I heard you call me ‘your girl,’ but it was so loud in there, who knows. I hope you did.

I’ve never seen someone so pissed off as I had when Jamie stomped away.

I’ve never seen someone look the way you did, almost hungry? Jealous? When Jamie came over to me in the first place. I saw you the entire time, the way you clenched your glass, how you nearly threw it at Elias when you first saw Jamie touch me. I thought you were just trying to be a good friend.

But it was the fact that you didn’t let go of me, you rested your chin on my head, even when Jamie was out of my sight.

I finally was able to turn around and get a look at you at one point after we just stood there for a little bit, the two of us starting to sway to the music. For me, it felt like there was no one else around us. I asked you why you were still holding on to me.

The fact that you just smiled at me, your hands tightening on my waist instead of outright answering me made my heart skip a beat. Every stupid, gooey, wonderful feeling you could think of when you know that you were in love with the person in front of you ran through me.

My mind went blank when you finally kissed me. When I finally could form a coherent thought, the only thing I could think of was how that felt right.

You felt right.

I started this letter to talk about my job, but honestly, Jamie isn’t even worth it. He never really was.

LFrom,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

The fact that we didn’t outright start dating after that night you kissed me drove me fucking insane. I don’t think I ever told you that, but seeing you talk to any other girl when we went out made me feel like I was going fucking insane.

I can’t believe you let me be jealous about a guy, about you of all people. I’m honestly pissed at you for that. And, the fact that I can see you reading this, see you throw your head back laughing at this, that kind of smile on your face as rare as it is would make me even more pissed at you.

The first time you asked me to come to a game after we kissed was the worst. Together, both of us tried to act like it had never happened. Ally apparently kept texting you telling you what you should do next, since, of course, she would be the one in our friend group to not only see us kiss, but to record it. Another video for our wedding, apparently (I still don’t know what she meant by ‘another’). Regardless, we had continued on like nothing happened, like we hadn’t kissed. Like it hadn’t meant anything to you.

And I had to pretend the same, even though it was sending me into a spiral.

After the game, you told us how to meet you outside your locker room so we could go get dinner (I kind of hate matinee games? They’re too early to do anything before and end too early to do something meaningful after? I felt like we were supposed to get a senior citizens discount when we finally made it to dinner). I saw you talking to that one girl; she was gorgeous. Honestly, when you think of the perfect girl, you probably should think of her.

I saw you laugh and smile at her, and I felt a pit in my stomach wishing it was me you were talking to.

When you hugged her, your hand lingering on her arm and the smile on your face staying there after you walked away, before you saw Ally and I with Elias and Brock, I felt like I could scream.

You knew something was wrong when I barely said anything on the way over. You were the one who didn’t buy it when I said I was just tired from work still, that I hadn’t slept the night before. You were the one who called my bluff when I said I wasn’t hungry because you were the one who heard my stomach, who was on Facetime with me when I went to sleep the night before.

I hated that you were the one who could call me out; not Ally, who I’ve lived with and been best friends with for how many years, you. I hated that you were the reason I shut down.

I hated you for a second.

How was I supposed to know that was Jake’s sister?

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

When you finally asked me out, I knew it was because Ally had threatened you (affectionately). I pretended to be surprised that you were going to ask me, but I knew it was coming, I just didn’t know when. You never really were the type to let everyone in on things right away, were you?

I was surprised how you had the audacity to take me out to dinner and only let me know after you dropped me off that you thought it was a date, our first date. It must have been nice to go into dinner knowing it was a date when I had no idea it was.

Sometimes I just wish you would have talked to me when you were thinking. You’re so quiet, you always look like you’re lost in thought, and I thought I could tell how to find you again. I felt like I knew everything, but apparently, I didn’t.

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

Kelly told me that she wants to open up more in these letters. Apparently, I’m not letting myself ‘feel enough’ and that these letters are too vague, whatever that means.

Fine, Kelly.

You know when I knew for sure that I loved you? The first time we slept together.

I didn’t tell you for three weeks after that that I loved you, even though I knew, and you didn’t tell me you loved me for almost two months after that.

I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.

If you had told me, we wouldn’t have gotten so pissed off at each other all the time. I know I’m shit when it comes to sharing my feelings, but god, you were even worse.

The first time we fought was barely a real fight. It was just us not talking.

You were pissed off when I told you I had to do a project with Jamie. It’s not like I asked to be paired with him. I actually actively asked to not be anywhere near him as much as possible, but apparently, so does everyone else (capitalism is the worst, what do you mean the guy we all hate can stay at the job because he brings in a lot of money?) when I said I was talking to him at night because we had to get this project done, that the faster I could get the project done, the sooner I could go back to ignoring him.

Jamie was a fucking prick. Jamie is a fucking prick. But god, that night I would have talked to Jamie if it meant you didn’t act that way.

I don’t remember everything that brought us up to it, but I remember it dawning on me. I didn’t know for sure that you liked me, or if you hated Jamie more from the stories I had told you. I doubted you. I doubt you. I never told you that outright, in those words, because how do you tell the person you’re supposed to love that you don’t think they love you back?

I asked you if you kissed me that night because you actually wanted to, or if it was just to make Jamie mad. He was still in the bar, even if I didn’t see him. You had seen him. You could see him. You saw him when you kissed me. You saw him over my shoulder when you pulled away. You admitted to it.

You kissed me to get back at a guy you hadn’t said more than a couple words to.

And then you told me it was because you loved me. Because you were in love with me. That you apparently knew when you first met me that you were going to fall in love with me, if you hadn’t fallen already.

I stared at you, furious at you and believing that you started our relationship because you wanted to, what, claim me? Mark me? I don’t even know. But then you told me the one thing I wanted to hear from you and the only thing I wanted to do was throw something at you.

So I walked out of your apartment instead. I called Brock, I had him pick me up, and he drove me back to my and Ally’s place.

It was Brock who tried to convince me that what you said was real, that you actually meant it, and that he and Elias knew it was the truth because you told them. For some reason, you had waited until then, until we were screaming at each other, to tell me. It was Ally who needed to be calmed down after threatening to kill you, only once Brock pointed out that the city would probably riot against her.

I was numb.

And it was you who made me feel that way. I felt nothing. I wanted to feel so many things, anything really, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t feel a fucking thing. These letters are supposed to be me going back and figure out and really acknowledging what I was feeling throughout what I think were our biggest moments. But I didn’t feel anything.

Are you happy now, Kelly?

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

I think after that last letter, I was nervous to write another. Ally found me sitting and crying at my desk. Apparently I never told her the full story of what had happened that night or why I didn’t talk to you for two weeks, even though she and Brock tried to get it out of me, Elias going over to your place once you called him. Elias didn’t know either, from the sound of it. We were Rory and Logan without the Bridal Party (if you still don’t get the Gilmore Girls reference, then we really shouldn’t have been together in the first place. We watched the show seven times, at least).

We didn’t really know how to be around each other for a bit after that, did we? It took us a while to get back to where we were before.

Who says that they love someone when they’re in the middle of a fight like that? Who says it for the first time like that? If you loved me, shouldn’t you have told me before? Shouldn’t you have told me in a different way?

I didn’t think you meant it when you told me you loved me, but everyone told me that you did, so I think I let myself believe it. At least at that point, I did. I think you loved me. You never seemed to be able to reassure me when I had my doubts, if you even knew that I had them. I know I loved you.

I’ve spent the last year and a half trying to convince myself that I don’t love you anymore.

Kelly, is that what these letters are supposed to be doing? Am I supposed to convince myself that I don’t love Quinn, or that I do?

We’re about to have a really intense session, aren’t we?

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

At this point, I’m just mad. These letters are just making me mad. I’m still mad about how we broke up, I’m still mad that you kissed me the way you did.

I’m still mad that I think about you all the fucking time.

The reason we broke up is what makes me furious.

I told you nothing was going on with Jamie.

I don’t like him. I have never liked him. I will never like him. The only person who mattered to me the entire relationship was you. You are were the one who mattersed to me.

I told you so many times that Jamie was the one who kissed me. You knew I would never kiss that guy.

But the fact that you saw it? I’ve never felt like screaming and crying more than I did in that moment, causing a scene in public and embarrassing everyone be damned. The look on your face when I finally was able to push him off me, only to see you standing right there, drinks for both of us in your hands. I could see the tears in your eyes, your Adam's Apple bobbing up and down while you swallowed what I was sure was rage, anger, hurt, fury. You didn’t see that I was crying, too. You didn’t see that I was struggling to get him away from me. It was only a kiss, one that I didn’t want to happen, and you didn’t see anything other than his lips on mine.

If you did, you didn’t seem to care.

You nearly broke the glasses as you slammed them down on the table near you, knocking over multiple people when you stormed out of the bar.

I had to knee Jamie in the dick to get him off me so I could chase after you.

You broke up with me right there. I don’t know how I could forget the look in your eyes when you told me you didn’t want to see me anymore if I was going to cheat on you with Jamie when you were standing right there, as if I intended to do that. You looked like you could kill someone.

You didn’t care that I wasn’t the one who fucking kissed him, that I didn’t kiss him back, that you are the only person I want to kiss. If you heard anything I yelled at you when you were walking away, you didn’t care. You left me there, and I had to watch you walk away.

Ally found me on the sidewalk, sitting on the ground against the building outside where you told me you didn’t care about me anymore. I couldn’t even tell her what happened because I screamed so loud that my voice was gone.

Fuck you for that, Quinn.

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

Fine, I fucking miss you. That’s why I thought of you first to write to. There are so many fucking things that I never got to say, that I never got to ask, that I know you never told me that have been eating away at me and occupying my thoughts more than I want them to.

I miss you, I miss being held by you, touched by you, kissed by you. I miss the feeling if your skin against mine, the feeling of you inside me, for fucks sake. I miss when you would talk to me like I was the only person who mattered to you, because I know that you loved me as much as I love you.

I miss every god damn stupid habit that you have, every little quirk of yours that you did on a game day that would drive me fucking insane.

I still come home sometimes when you guys are on a road trip and expect you to call me, no matter where on the continent you are, because you missed me and I missed you and we needed to hear each others voices.

I miss the guys and being friends with them, even though Ally still talks to them and gets to see them.

You never let me tell you what really happened, because I don’t think you cared. I don’t know if you loved me.

I wish you did, because, fuck, I still love you.

Are you happy now, Kelly?

I still love Quinn. You’re going to tell me that I’m too young to say this, but: I will always love that stupid, sad, wonderful boy that I met by chance one night at a bar and got to spend time with. I will always love the guy who made me laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe and cry so hard I couldn’t speak. I will always love Quinn, no matter who else I will fall in love with, or out of love with, if I stay here in Vancouver until I die, or if he gets traded or if I move on my own.

Fuck.

Love,

Sarina

Dear Sarina,

I get that I was never supposed to see these. I probably am not supposed to know they even exist, but I’m fucking glad I do. You’re going to kill Ally for sending these to me, but, let’s face it, she’s the one who’s been pushing for us since minute one. Would we have had anything if we didn’t have Ally?

But I don’t want to talk about her.

I miss you.

I want you back.

I’m a fucking idiot for not being with you, for walking away from you that night.

You think that I didn’t love you? I’ve loved you this entire time. I loved you from the first time we talked, even though, you’re right, I didn’t say it when I should have because I’m an idiot.

Can we talk?

Love,

Quinn

Dear Quinn,

Yes.

Love,

Sarina

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #vancouver canucks #canucks #vancouver canucks fic #vancouver canucks imagine #canucks fic #canucks imagine #hockey #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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alwaysobsessed777 · 5 hours ago

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After that absolutely masterclass by the one and only Azzi Fudd, I think this means we should get an Azzi fic 👀

Keeping it simple and just her and her gf celebrating her domination in that game and her gf being so freaking proud of her

ALL MY GHOST - A.F.

yet again guys....if it's not good let me know

For our princess, Azzi, cause she cooked today

"UCONN UPSETS SOUTH CAROLINA IN A BLOWOUT GAME," I couldn't believe my ears. UConn really just played like their lives depended on it, and it gain them a win. The shouting, the upsetting groans, it was a thrilling experience I didn't think I was gonna experience...ever.

"Oh my God! We did it!" Azzi pulled me into a hug over the bench she had been sitting. Laughing aloud, I hugged the girl back. The energy radiating off the girl and the team.

"Baby, you need to go celebrate with the team...not me."

She shakes her head, nuzzling it further into my neck, "but I wanna celebrate with you."

I sigh, "Azzi...."

"Yes, my love?" Her eyes meeting mine, playing innocent.

"You know what."

"Fineee...but I wish we could go back to the hotel....cuddle...maybe throw in a movie while I read my book," I laugh as her eyes light up.

"And we'll do that...after you spend some time with Paige," I noticed the blonde making her way towards us, "speaking of the devil."

Paige scrunches her face up in disgust, wrapping an arm around Azzi. Pulling the girl away from me a bit. "First of all, I am an angel...not a devil. Second, why are you holdin' the people's princess back from her team, y/n/n? Like, girl, come on!"

Rolling my eyes, I snap back, "sorry your best friend would rather hang with me....guess I'm just better."

Paige's turn to roll her eyes, Azzi's never leaving mine, "whatever, bruh...can I steal your girlfriend for like two minutes?"

Azzi's eyes plead for me to say no, but that didn't matter to Paige. She would've taken the girl anyway.

"Sure...just don't keep her too long...I wanna have my fun with her too."

The blonde's eyes widened, "aye yo....chill out there."

Blushing, Azzi laughed, "P....get your mind out the gutter. We're just gonna have a movie night."

"Sure....almost 30 point game and watching movies is all you're gonna do....right," The curly haired girl shoved Paige playfully. Sending the blonde back, her raising her hands in surrender before walking back with the team.

"Yeah....I wouldn't wanna wear you out of course," she slapped my shoulder, "ow!"

"I need you to stop being a flirt," she took a quick look before leaning in to place a soft peck to my lips, "You might make Paige jealous."

"Good," a smirk played on my lips, "cause she's missing out."

She rolled her eyes, "wait for me by the exit, okay? Oh, we should totally grab something to eat on the way to the hotel too."

I snicker, "you got it, princess."

She leaned in for another quick kiss, running off into the locker room with the rest of the Huskies.

After about 20 minutes, I get a message, Azzi was on her way out. Waiting by the doors, I watched as the girl made her way through the hallway. Her smile was bright, her laughter was warm, she made me forget about everything else in the world. Everything bad or good. The only thing I knew was Azzi.

"Hey babe," kissing my cheek, I intertwined our hands.

"Hey baby," Paige let out a loud gag before sprinting off, "I don't even have to flirt to make her jealous."

"Whatever...I was thinking...."

"What were you thinking?"

"What if we stopped and got a pizza," I nod, "then, we run to Barnes and Noble."

"And why do we need to go there, Az?" I tilted my head, knowing what the answer was going to be.

"Since I had such an amazing game....maybe you could buy me a book?"

I laughed, "you got it, but that's totally a princess move."

"And I'm proud of it," she held her head up high, soft chuckles falling from both of us.

The car ride was nice. We listened to whatever she wanted to play, we stopped by Barnes and Noble to buy the book she was wanting,.we grabbed drinks from Dunkin, and finally stopped to get pizza before heading back to the hotel. I sat down the box before throwing myself on the bed. A small laugh fell from Azzi's lips.

"I'm so tired," I whined.

"You're tired? Baby, I'm the one who literally played a game," a teasing tone dripped from her voice.

"I get your tiredness... we're just connected or something," a laugh escaped her again.

"What happened to movie and cuddles though," I could hear the pout in her voice, my head snapped to look at her. Her lips out in a pout, her eyes wide.

I jump up, pulling Azzi into me, before falling back in the bed, "then come lay with me!"

"Y/n!"

Without fighting, she just let me hold her. Her arms tighten around me, her head resting on my chest. I knew I loved her, I always had, but something about this moment felt different. It was so easy yet so charged with emotions. I didn't know what to feel.

"I love you, princess," mumbling the words against her hair, placing a soft kiss afterwards.

"I love you too, y/n/n."

#wbb #wcbb #wnba #uconn wbb #womens basketball #wbb x reader #azzi fudd #azzi fudd x reader

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docholligay · 3 days ago

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sounds like you successfully argued to have migrants put in PRISON instead of the equivalent of a hurricane/emergency evac center :/

So i had a whole, really cutting takedown of this statement, and, in general, the smattering of bad faith engagement I've had with a post that went far beyond my usual reach so wasn't written with as many protections against folks looking for a crack in the wall.

But being mean to someone, who, in any case only believes what they are saying so far as they can be anonymous while doing it, isn't helpful. It doesn't inform you any better, it doesn't inform anyone of how to go about this stuff, it just makes feel good that I, what? Made someone on tumblr look silly? Everyone claps? Jesus Christ what a waste of life.

So, let me tell you what actually was successfully argued. What was argued was that the one place in the state that had been offered up by the politicians was rejected by its people. There may be one someday, but not here and not today.

The prison that guy mentioned? (It was not me, but you'd be forgiven for thinking it--this went around with an INSANELY, fox newsbite level, bad faith crop that made me immediately regret not editing better) It's not owned by the state. I went and looked it up later. It's owned by the Bureau of Indian Affairs. Supposedly they are running it for their own use. It's gonna be a lot harder to get them to use that.

What we successfully argued, is delaying the implementation of anything. Delaying is a huge part of resistance. Every headache you give people, every hour you cost them, is a win. We cannot afford to wait for utopia, and perfection, and a savior. Some of our greatest weapons in life are delaying, and feigned incompetence, and picking at threads. Especially if you live in a red area, sometimes you gotta go, "Oh sure, yeah, but you know, not THERE, and...no, not there either, cause of X, and, man, Y is almost a perfect place but I just can't sign off on it because..." you see what I'm saying? Oskar Schindler was arguing he needed Jewish children to polish the insides of gun barrels.

The other thing that was argued, is when the commissioner said, 'We'll bend over backward to accommodate your orders," we said, "No we won't." And that goes much further than any site. It sends a small message, that, even in a red part of a red state, not everyone is falling into line. This is why action matters.

I'm not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, and my work in political arenas is not either. But, I have been doing stuff in political arenas since Obama, and, I have always worked here, in this very complicated place. I am an extremely pragmatic worker. I do what works. I don't care much about the appearance of goodness. Sometimes delaying a project is what it takes. Sometimes, in life, you lose anyway. But that doesn't make the delaying worthless. I have lost a lot of fights, and I am going to be set up to lose a lot more. But, today? An offer had to be withdrawn. And that's something.

I hope you come back, and reread both the post and this response, and, even if you disagree with me, have a different perspective on how political action can be approached. More than that, I want it to give you hope that even small, imperfect actions matter. The perfect is the enemy of the good. And the good is the enemy of the literally accomplished.

#that damn post

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darl-ingfics · 18 hours ago

Text

Feveruary Day 16: "Is it me, or is it really warm in here?"

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Woozi, Vernon (cold)

Caregiver(s): S.Coups

Word Count: 1,048

“Shit!” Jihoon jumped when something hit his elbow. Before he could investigate further, he bent forward, coughing roughly into his sleeve. Pushing his glasses back up his nose after they’d fallen, Jihoon acknowledged that he’d been hit by a box of tissues, courtesy of a very rumpled, disgruntled, ill looking Hansol. “You too, huh?”

“I’m not thrilled with you right now.” The rapper’s voice was raspy, deepened by the same stuffy nose that had been plaguing Jihoon for the better part of the week.

“Join the club.”Jihoon rubbed at his eyes underneath his glasses, sniffling miserably. “Although, if you really want to point fingers, I’m pretty sure Wonwoo had it first.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Hansol roughly pulled out the chair next to Jihoon’s and slumped into it, leaning heavily against the recording table. “Let’s just get these demos done.”

Jihoon nodded as Hansol moved to set up his laptop, hardly even pausing when a cough worked its way up his throat. The producer snagged a tissue from the proffered box, pressing it against his suddenly streaming nose. Of course they’d get hit with the cold from hell two days before the next album’s demo was due for approval.

Hansol had been so excited to work with Jihoon on this album, and Jihoon had likewise been so happy to teach him. Sure, Hansol had helped with parts of the the process before, but this was the most involved he’d been thus far. And the teaching element had brought Jihoon a level of joy he hadn’t been expecting. Seeing the process anew through Hansol’s eyes had helped him understand producing in a new way, reigniting a magic he hoped he’d never truly lose.

And Jihoon sure as hell wasn’t about to let a case of the sniffles ruin their beautiful process. He was internally very proud that Hansol wasn’t either. They worked their way through both the demo album and their box of tissues together, pausing only to grab another box and a handful of water bottles. And to raise the thermostat because, honestly, how could anyone be expected to work in such a cold room? Sure, this cold was slowing their progress somewhat, but it had yet to stop them in their tracks. It was a Herculean task, but they were up for it.

“Thought I’d find you two in here.” Hansol turned to address Seungcheol with a blank stare. The leader would later comment that Hansol’s face resembled that of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. For his part, Jihoon didn’t acknowledge the leader at all, eyes trained on the screen in front of him.

“Hi hyung.” Hansol waved robotically. “We’re working.” He had attempted to sound no-nonesense, to convince the leader that they were busy and not to be bothered. He had failed spectacularly. His glassy eyed stare was enough to convince Seungcheol that it was time to wrap up for the day.

Jihoon, sensing this, placed a hand on top of Hansol’s. “Ignore him, or he will make us stop.” Hansol considered Jihoon’s hand, seemingly confused how it got there. s

“Ignore me all you want, but I am here to take you home.” Seungcheol leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “And I can’t imagine you’re getting much work done anyway.”

“What makes you say that?” Jihoon asked, laying on the sarcasm before coughing roughly into his fist.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “Alright, come on. Pack it up, guys.”

“No.”

“How much more do you have to do?”

“That’s classified.” Seungcheol huffed, pulling a mask out of his pocket and slapping it on before joining them in front of the monitors. Jihoon snorted. “Did management put you up to that?”

“Nope. Seungkwan. And he wanted me to wear gloves too.” Seungcheol’s eyes roved over the screens as he spoke. “How much more do you have to finish?”

“The music is all done, except for a few places that need better mixing,” Hansol answered. “And we have a handful of lyrics that need rewriting.”

Seungcheol nodded. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna save all of this three times. Next, we’re sending this to the approval committee with some notes on the parts you want to re-mix, and I’ll add in placeholder lyrics where you aren’t 100% satisfied. And then, I take you both home.”

“No.”

“This isn’t a suggestion, it’s an order.” Seungcheol paused, pulling at the neck of his sweater. “Is it me or is it really warm in here?”

“It’s you,” Jihoon stated, still tapping away on his computer.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes again and moved towards the studio’s thermostat, unsurprised to see that they had raised the temperature quite a bit higher than normal. He pointed at the device. “So that’s probably a fever, which means you have to go home regardless. No activities with a temperature over…”

“38.5,” Jihoon intoned at the same time, taking a turn at rolling his eyes. The producer fell back against his chair. “It’s just a fucking cold, hyung.”

“And we don’t want it to become fucking pneumonia, now, do we?” Seungcheol cocked his head to the side, playing up the innocence, which really burned Jihoon up on the inside. The producer groaned, hitting the save button with more force than was necessary once, twice, and then a third time before angrily powering off all the devices around them. He sat back with his arms petulantly crossed over his chest.

“I hate you.”

Seungcheol smirked. “I can handle it.” He nodded his head towards the door. “Let’s go. Can you both walk by yourselves?”

“Yes, I’m not fucking dying,” Jihoon mumbled peevishly as he stormed about collecting his belongings and wrapping himself up in his winter wear. Hansol watched him hazily. He gave a start when a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Come on, love. Let’s go home.” Seungcheol offered a hand, and Hansol accepted it gratefully, standing perfectly still while his hyung bundled him up in coat, hat, scarf, and slipped his belongings back into his bag. Once said bag was secured around his left shoulder, Seungcheol slipped his right arm through Hansol’s left. The younger rapper could see from the wrinkling of Seungcheol’s eyes that he was smiling. “Ready?”

Hansol nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

#seventeen sickfic #seventeen sick #kpop sickfic #kpop sick #feveruary #feveruary day 16 #sickie woozi #sickie vernon #caretaker s.coups #darlingfics

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ifbrd · 1 day ago

Text

Cipher Zodiac - Holding Hands with Enemies

If I’ve got my dates right, today is the 9 year anniversary of Gravity Falls ending. Consider this analysis and discussion my celebration post! (Not that I care to celebrate that my favorite show ended nearly a decade ago but anyway…)

I recently ran into this really cute little mini Gravity Falls fan comic by @the-meme-monarch. I actually first saw it Reddit (credit properly given) a few weeks ago (and hunted it down today to reblog lol) and people on Reddit were talking about how having Mabel hold Gideon’s hand in the finale was a weird choice.

I want to talk about that, but first I want to clarify a few things:

- This is not supposed to be any kind of like callout or attack or anything like that on you @the-meme-monarch. I love this art you did, it's sweet and adorable and it would have been nice to see in canon. I'm really worried you'll take this post the wrong way and think it's meant to be personal so I just want to assure you that that is not the case.

- I am making this a separate post, not a reblog to your post, because I don't want to hijack it haha. I want your post to just be about your lovely art, not the long winded analysis I'm about to give. So everyone please go check out that post!

- I definetly think this is a fair critism about the finale. Mabel, by no means, should have been forced to hold Gideon's hand when he couldn't just learn from his wrongdoings. With what I'm about to say, I'm not trying to say this was necessarily a good choice.

With those things said, I do want to play devil's advocate a bit for this decision.

Having Mabel and Gideon be next to each and hold hands, does serve a narrative purpose here, albiet said narrative purpose could have been executed a lot better, in my opinion (or, alternatively, wasn’t even entirely necessary)

Let me explain. Let's revisit this scene: Ford takes Robbie's paint can and goes around painting the Cipher Zodiac on the ground. People start figuring out where they are on the Zodiac and getting in position. Gideon makes a big deal about being next to Mabel, despite her asking him not to. Ford instructions everyone to hold hands. Pacifica remarks that she will not hold hands with McGucket's dirty hand, and her father tells her she should do the one thing no one in their family has ever done "touch the hill-billy" (a sentence that sounds terrible out of context). They start glowing and after the extras evacuate, Ford tells Stan to join. Stan refuses, taking this opportunity to have a conversation with Ford that absolutely does not need to be addressed in this moment. Ford passive aggressively thanks him, and then corrects his grammar which is also something that absolutely does not need to addressed in this moment. They start fighting and it all falls apart.

The narrative purpose that's being served by Mabel holding Gideon's hand, is to contrast Stan and Ford, and further emphasize how riduculous they are being in this moment. Mabel is choosing to temporarily let go of her ill feelings towards Gideon, for the sake of saving the world, and she's not the only one to do this. Pacifica didn't want to hold McGucket's hand, but did so anyway to save the world. While Stan is refusing to hold hands, Robbie announces that he has "never held hands this long before" and is "very uncomfortable" but he is also continuing to cooperate in spite of this clear discomfort. These are examples of members of the Cipher Zodiac, members who are children or teenagers with underdeveloped brains and are therefore more likely to act selfishly or immaturely, setting aside their discomforts for the sake of the greater good. Then there's Stan and Ford, two grown ass men, who both know what's at stake, know their family, their neice and nephew, could die if they don't defeat Bill, yet can't manage to put aside their hurt feelings long enough to do whatever the Cipher Zodiac was going to do. The kids can pull themselves together, why can’t the full grown adults?

In what way could this have been executed better? In my opinion, the best way to execute this would be to have has many members of the zodiac as possible be holding hands with people they have or had conflicts with. This would, in theory, make Stan and Ford the only ones who couldn't set aside their grudges, which would have made it more impactful.

Most of us know that the Cipher Zodiac wasn't originally supposed to mean anything, it was just supposed to look cool and mysterious at the end of the title sequence. It was thrown in to the finale because fans had spent so much time theorizing about it. If this hadn't been the case, if the Cipher Zodiac was actually something intentional that was planned from the beginning, they really could have preplanned this and made it impactful. They could have designed the Zodiac to have the symbols have to be in a specific order, and could have written the series with that in mind, to make it so everyone was holding hands with someone they had issues with.

Of course, that wasn't the case, but I still think this could have been done more effectively with the position the writers were actually in. Looking back on the series, I decided to photoshop the finale's Cipher Zodiac to be odered in, what I think, would have made this contrast in actions more impactful. I tried to order it in a way that as many people as possible had a problem with someone they were holding hands with.

The original:

My Photoshopped version:

My explanations, starting with Ford and going counter clockwise:

Ford and McGucket - they had a falling out, although they did make up mere minutes prior to this.

McGucket and Pacifica - what canon did, and the reasoning has already been brought up and was openly expressed in canon. Though McGucket doesn't seem to have any ill feelings towards Pacifica or her family.

Pacifica and Mabel - what canon did, these two did have a rivary for a good portion of the series, although they had more or less resolved that

Mabel and Gideon - what canon did, and I don't need to explain this, it's what sparked this entire post

Gideon and Dipper - these two hated each other. Dipper didn't like how Gideon harassed Mabel, Gideon was convinced that Dipper was coming between him and Mabel

Dipper and Robbie - these two fought over Wendy for half of season 1. And I don't think they every actually made any kind of amends with each other specifically.

Robbie and Wendy - they dated and had a messy breakup, although they did appear to make amends

Wendy and Soos - also what canon did. Look, Soos is the world's most perfect man, he has beef with literally no one, but he's on the Cipher Zodiac nonetheless, so he has to hold hands with someone, this is the only spot left.

Stan and Soos - Again, what canon did, and we can refer to the same logic as above, but I also think this can work to our advantage here. One the one hand, keeping in mind their father-son dynamic, Soos adores Stan and wants his affection, so I could see it being awkward for him to hold hands with Stan, whether nervous because "don't mess this up, Soos" or an overly excited issue. While Stan seems to care about Soos the same, he would never in a million years admit it, which would make holding Soos's hand potentially awkward for him, especially if Soos is being a crazy fanboy over it. On the flip side, like making the complete opposite argument, Stan not being cooperative when he has no problems with one of the people he's holding hands with, while nearly everyone else has an issue with both people they're holding hands with and aren't making a scene, could further emphasize the ridiculousness and immaturity in his actions.

So yeah! That's what I think should have been done for this to be most effective! Or just not putting Mabel by Gideon at all would have also been great!

I'm curious though: Does anyone else have a different way they'd set up the Cipher Zodiac than what I did?

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