#having a lot of feelings about this today
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
So tumblr keeps on shadowbanning Siraj's accounts and he tries to remake of course, but right now, he is exhausted with how targeted these bans have started to feel. To be honest, Siraj is tired of a lot of things: the never ending atrocity, the hunger, the cold, and of course, he is tired of barely making any progress in the campaign at all. He wanted to make a post today but since he doesn’t have the energy to travel all the way to Deir-al Balah for an Internet connection, I am writing this on behalf of him. Please read through this if possible; these are Siraj Abudayeh's own words:
A perception gained through hearing is merely a poor reflection of the actual, be it about events concerning Gaza, Ramallah, Paris or USA.
It can't ever be enough even if you diligently follow the news. Or if you read every single article or watch every video that maybe available online. For there are things present in the air of Gaza- rotten and burnt smell, metallic smoke that sticks to the mouth and coats the nostrils, poison that is inhaled with every breathe and chemicals taken into the lungs- that no video can capture.
So of course there is a difference! It is a difference between reading the phrase, “I waited seven hours for a bottle of water,” and actually being parched and having to wait hours for some semi-polluted water. There is a difference between reading about Gazan children losing their childhoods, and actually having to see your son despairingly cry out “BREAD!” There is a difference between hearing about a torn tent, and actually having to live in it, that too if you were lucky to afford one.
There is always a difference between reading/hearing it and LIVING it. For all this, I want to say that the one who is only hearing about it does not have the right to draw up conclusions about the needs of the person living the nightmare. They have no right to either question his relentless pursuit for his cause, nor expect that he can be steadfast and not feel exhaustion. There is a difference between what we know and what others have the privilege of not knowing: there is a difference, there is a DIFFERENCE. The meaning is simple, there is always a difference.
In the last 2 days, we have seen some disturbing comments being made about the genocide going on in Gaza. I don't actually have anything to say regarding such banal behavior but I do request you to read what Gazans have to say. Ultimately Palestine will be free, with or without us, but I hope that when we chanted "Free Palestine", there was some truth to it.
( $10 CAD= $7.19 USD)
Vetting #219
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Henry the Penguin
Henry the Penguin came to California for the summer... not a sentence applicable to most penguins, but he didn't mind the warmer temperatures. :-)
Henry's name had an interesting origin. Apparently his human, as a toddler, sounded like she was saying Henry instead of Penguin. In any case, 35 years later Henry was his name, and his leather beak and feet were starting to have some serious issues. Here are his diagnosis photos:
His person was initially less concerned about his feet, more concerned with his beak. I very rarely work with leather, but I did know I had a good piece that should work for Henry, and so we agreed on a treatment plan and he came to the hospital.
Here is the leather I used to reconstruct his beak:
His person also opted to recover his feet. They weren't originally leather, but she did choose a white faux suede for them. When she chose it she said "Fancy, fancy, Mr. Henry-the-Penguin". :-)
Here's Henry the Penguin all better (he arrived with the blue ribbon):
Looking as spiffy as if he was really wearing a tuxedo!
When he got home, Henry's person wrote:
Henry got home safely today. He looks amazing and is getting lots of hugs to aid in his recovery, as prescribed. He would have written you himself, but he is jet-lagged. He might write you once he has recovered from the flights and the surgery.
Thank you so much for repairing my little guy!
And sure enough, the next day Henry himself emailed:
Dear Miss BetH,
THank you for taking sucH good care of me for tHe past few weeks. I was scared to fly because I Haven't flown in over 10 years. And I was scared of surgery even tHougH I Hadn't been able to eat witH my broken beak. THank you for fixing me. I feel mucH better now. My mom's friend says I look "spiffy." I prefer "Handsome," but "spiffy" will do.
THank you again.
Love,
Henry
(Apologies for Henry's punctuation--not having gone past first grade, he thinks that the letter "H" must always be capitalized since it's the first letter of his name. Efforts to break this habit have proved futile.) Henry's person
#stuffed animal repair#stuffed animals#stuffed animal#stuffed animal hospital#penguin#penguins#stuffed penguin#toy penguin
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────THE BEST GIFTS AREN’T UNDER THE TREE.
୨୧ SYPNOSiS. you and park sunghoon don’t exactly get along. you’re coworkers who seem to have nothing in common— polar opposties. he’s the polished guy from a wealthy family, while you’re just trying to make ends meet and keep your personal life private. but when an awkward run-in at the pharmacy reveals more about your struggles than you ever wanted anyone to know—maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought—maybe the person who drives you the craziest might just be the one who gets you best.
୨୧ PAiRING. enemy! park sunghoon x fem! reader, rich!sunghoon x not very rich! reader, type 1 diabetic! reader.
୨୧ GENRE. office romance, enemies to lovers, fluff & christmas romcom hallmark movie themed, minimal angst.
୨୧ WARNiNGS. profanities, kissing, yn is a little mean.. type 1 diabetes mentioned, struggles with money, ignorant hoon, not proofread.
୨୧ WORD COUNT. 8,106 / 8.1K
𝓟𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗟i𝗦𝗧 ﹕ last christmas, wham. it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas, michael bublé. you’re so vain, carly simon. unwritten, natasha bedingfield. suburban house, holly macve, ldr. just the way you are, bruno mars. can’t help falling in love, elvis presley.
NOTE. i know it’s a bit early.. but i literally couldn’t help myself i love love love christmas!! 🤓☝️thank u guys for the support on the teaser <3 i strongly recommend reading it before u begin this!! enjoy hehe ^-^
LiBRARY | © WON4KISS all rights reserved
THE OFFICE FELT ALIVE WITH THE PULSE OF CHRISTMAS.
fairy lights draped the edges of cubicle walls, casting warm hues across the room, and garlands hung over doorways, filling the space with a faint hint of pine scent.
the air had an almost electric feel—holiday music blasted softly from someone’s desk speaker, and laughter echoed from the kitchen, where the holiday potluck was in full swing. ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!
you took it all in with a quiet sense of satisfaction, enjoying the warmth of the season.
for a few minutes, at least, the festive atmosphere helped you push aside the stress and exhaustion that had weighed on you lately.
financial strain and the challenges of managing your type 1 diabetes were constant pressures, but they were your private burdens, things you carried alone.
here, in the office, you could leave them behind, escape reality—or at least pretend to.
with a sigh, you pulled your scarf off and hung it by your desk, feeling the familiar vibration of your blood glucose monitor.
you checked the reading—steady, for now.
relief was brief, though, as you were quickly reminded of the pharmacy bill due at the end of the month, a larger sum that had grown even more unreachable since your insurance provider had started making cuts.
“hey! finally decided to show up?” a smooth voice cut through your thoughts, laced with the perfect blend of mischief and a hint of mockery.
you turned to see park sunghoon, leaning against the divider between your desks with his signature smirk.
he was dressed in a no doubt expensive, tailored coat, his dark hair disheveled in that way that looked both casual and wealthy.
sunghoon’s presence was an unmistakable reminder that you were, as always, worlds apart.
“yes, i thought i’d take pity and show my face,” you shot back, crossing your arms with an eye-roll. “wouldn’t want you to get too comfortable doing all the work without me.”
“oh, please. like i’d ever let you have all the credit,” he said, grinning as he pushed himself off the desk.
sunghoon’s wealth was an open secret around the office, though he rarely discussed it openly.
still, the designer clothing, the luxury watches, and the effortless way he carried himself spoke volumes.
he was someone who had grown up with privilege in a way you could barely fathom, and sometimes, it felt almost as if he enjoyed reminding you of it.
it was always little jabs, little comments—things he likely didn’t realize cut deeper than intended.
you let out a sigh, unwilling to let him get under your skin today, especially when the holidays usually put you in a good mood.
ignoring his stare, you logged into your computer and prepared for the day’s tasks, hoping he’d get the hint and leave.
but sunghoon didn’t move. instead, he watched you, brows slightly raised, as if daring you to keep ignoring him.
finally, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur.
“so, what’d you bring for the potluck? or is this going to be another year of pretending you’re too busy to participate?” he teased, a glint in his eye.
you bristled, annoyance prickling at your skin.
sunghoon didn’t know, of course, that you’d barely managed to scrape together enough for groceries this week, let alone something special for the potluck—but his words hit a sore spot nonetheless.
“not that it’s any of your business,” you replied with gritted teeth, meeting his gaze, “but i’ve been a little… preoccupied with other things.”
“oh? too busy for christmas spirit, mrs. grinch?” his smirk softened just a little, but the teasing tone remained. “how tragic. i can’t imagine a holiday without going all out.”
“yeah, well, maybe some of us have other priorities.”
he tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his expression—you could tell he was on the brink of pushing further, maybe digging into what those priorities might be, but before he could, a group of coworkers filed into the room, breaking the tension between you.
after a few hours of emails and spreadsheets, you slipped away for a quick break, heading to the break room.
as you made your way down the hall, you thought about the other expenses coming up—the overdue pharmacy bill, the rent check, and the dozens of smaller costs that added up so fast it felt impossible to keep up.
you’d learned to carry these worries quietly.
no one in the office had ever seen you let your guard down, and you’d grown so used to putting on a brave face that sometimes you believed it yourself.
in the break room, you reached into your bag, pulling out a small protein bar that would have to suffice as lunch.
you barely had time to take a bite before the door swung open, and sunghoon strolled in, his presence instantly filling the small room.
“skipping lunch again?” he asked, nodding at the protein bar in your hand.
you raised an eyebrow. “i could say the same. didn’t peg you for the protein-bar type.”
“oh, please.” he scoffed, moving to grab a coffee pod.
“i just had a massive breakfast. unlike some people, i actually know how to treat myself during the holidays.”
“congrats on the life of luxury,” you muttered, feeling your patience fray.
he chuckled, missing the edge in your voice—or, worse, choosing to ignore it. “well, it’s not for everyone.”
there was something almost infuriating in how casually he threw these little remarks around, as if it were a game.
you often wondered if he had any idea how privileged he sounded or if he was simply so wrapped up in his world that he couldn’t see beyond it.
you hated to admit it, but sometimes his comments stung. deeply.
“you know,” he continued, oblivious, “they’re setting up for the secret santa exchange in the main lobby. you could still join in if you want to spread some christmas cheer.”
you felt the words bubbling up before you could stop them. “not all of us can afford to ‘spread christmas cheer’ the way you do, sunghoon.”
a flicker of confusion crossed his face, and his casual demeanor faltered for a second.
you’d been careful not to reveal much about your personal life, but his relentless teasing had chipped away at your patience.
you could see him trying to piece together what you meant, his smirk fading as he observed you, perhaps noticing the hint of frustration in your expression.
but before he could press further, you gathered your things and left the break room, feeling his eyes on your back as you made your way down the hall.
the week had dragged on, filled with deadlines and holiday preparations you barely had the energy for.
by thursday evening, you’d almost forgotten about the refill you needed at the pharmacy.
but when the notification popped up on your phone—prescription ready for pickup—your stomach twisted.
the monthly pharmacy trip was always a grim reminder of the costs that piled up faster than you could manage.
you entered the pharmacy, still in your work clothes, feeling a familiar combination of dread and fatigue.
the fluorescent lights felt harsh after a long day, casting everything in an unflattering glare.
you waited in line, trying to keep your anxiety at bay, telling yourself that it would be okay.
when you reached the counter, the pharmacist handed over the medication with a sympathetic look.
“i’m sorry, y/n..” she said quietly, glancing down at her screen. “your insurance isn’t covering this anymore. the total comes to… $600.”
the number hit you like a punch. “six hundred?” you echoed, barely able to keep the shock from your voice.
“yes, unfortunately,” she said, her expression softening. “would you like to speak to someone in billing about options?”
you swallowed hard, feeling a rush of embarrassment.
behind you, a couple of people had joined the line, their eyes on you, and you could sense their impatience.
the pressure made it hard to think, and you fumbled for words, barely able to keep from breaking down. “i… i didn’t realize it would be that high.”
your hands trembled as you reached for your wallet, counting bills that would barely make a dent.
you felt the weight of judgment pressing down, and the frustration of the week boiled over into a feeling of helplessness.
in that moment, the walls you’d built so carefully began to crack—suddenly, a familiar voice broke through your thoughts.
“here, i’ve got it.”
you whipped around to see sunghoon, standing just behind you, his expression unreadable.
he held out his card to the cashier, his hand steady, his tone calm. the same calmness you often found infuriating—but now it felt like salt in a wound.
“no!” you blurted, voice louder than you intended. “sunghoon, i don’t need—”
he didn’t look at you, simply held his card out closer to the cashier, who accepted it with a nod.
the transaction beeped through, a small, simple sound that shattered any hope you had of holding onto your pride.
you took a shaky breath, trying to process what had just happened.
the thought of owing sunghoon money—let alone having him swoop in like some hero—made you feel nauseous.
sunghoon handed you the medication bag without a word, his expression unreadable, almost neutral.
but his silence only fueled the resentment bubbling inside you.
“thanks,” you muttered, barely meeting his gaze, gripping the bag tightly in your hands.
as soon as you stepped outside the pharmacy, the freezing winter air hit your face, jolting you back to reality.
sunghoon followed, catching up to you in a few strides.
his voice was calm but edged with something sharper, something you couldn’t quite place.
“you’re welcome, by the way,” he said, a hint of sarcasm coloring his tone.
you stopped abruptly, turning to face him, anger flaring up despite the chill that seeped into your bones.
“i didn’t ask you to help me, sunghoon. i really don’t need your charity.”
he scoffed, crossing his arms. “it’s not charity. i was just helping. or is that too difficult for you to accept?”
the words stung—you looked down, heart racing as you struggled to find the right response.
“you don’t get it. you don’t understand what it’s like to need help,” you said quietly, but there was a weight to your words that hung in the air between you.
sunghoon blinked, surprised by the intensity in your tone.
for a brief second, he seemed taken aback, as if realizing for the first time that there were layers to your life he’d never even thought to consider.
but just as quickly, he recovered, his expression hardening.
“maybe i don’t understand,” he said, voice low. “but i was only trying to be a good friend—you clearly needed my help.”
the word “friend” felt heavy, like it didn’t belong.
you’d spent so much time bickering with him, pushing each other’s buttons, that the idea of friendship felt foreign.
“we were never friends, sunghoon,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper. “not really.”
his face fell, just a fraction, but it was enough for you to see the disappointment in his eyes before he quickly masked it.
he didn’t respond, didn’t argue back. he just stood there, the silence between you filled with unspoken words and simmering emotions.
with a sigh, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone under the dim streetlights.
the next morning, you arrived at the office feeling drained, the argument replaying in your mind like a loop you couldn’t escape.
you’d spent the entire night wrestling with guilt, shame, and confusion.
as much as you hated to admit it, sunghoon had only been trying to help.
maybe his actions felt patronizing, but it wasn’t entirely his fault—you hadn’t exactly been forthcoming about your struggles, either.
you spotted him near the coffee station, and your heart thudded in your chest.
he looked up as you approached, his expression carefully blank, like he wasn’t sure what to expect.
“hey,” you began, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “about last night… i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
he looked at you for a moment, studying your face, and you felt the tension ease slightly as a hint of a smile softened his expression.
“apology accepted,” he replied, a glimmer of his usual playfulness returning. “besides, if i can’t handle a little yelling, i shouldn’t be hanging around you, should i?”
you laughed, surprised by how much lighter you felt. “guess not.”
for the rest of the morning, there was a shift in the air between you and sunghoon.
it was subtle, but the tension had softened into something different, something… more understanding.
sunghoon seemed to go out of his way to avoid his usual teasing, and you found yourself appreciating the small moments of consideration—like when he quietly handed you a cup of coffee during a long meeting, or when he offered to take on part of a six page report without asking.
a few days later, the two of you were assigned to a client project that required an off-site visit to the city’s holiday market.
the market was bustling with vendors selling everything from handmade ornaments to spiced apple cider, and festive christmas music filled the air as fairy lights wrapped around pine trees twinkled in every direction.
you walked side by side through the crowds, the cold biting at your cheeks, but the festive atmosphere was infectious.
for once, sunghoon’s competitive edge had softened, replaced by a mutual sense of respect that felt unexpectedly natural.
he paused by a stall selling candied nuts, grinning as he handed you a small bag. “try these—they’re amazing.”
the warmth from the roasted nuts seeped into your hands, and you couldn’t help but smile as you tasted one. “not bad,” you admitted, savoring the sweetness.
he watched you with a soft, almost unreadable expression, his eyes warm in the glow of the holiday lights. “see? i knew i could get you into the christmas spirit.”
you rolled your eyes but felt your cheeks heat up, and for once, you couldn’t blame the cold.
“maybe christmas isn’t so bad,” you conceded, though your tone was playful.
you spent the afternoon walking through the market, sharing laughs and stories, with sunghoon’s usual arrogance replaced by a gentle charm that you weren’t familiar with.
there was something tender in the way he looked at you, as if he were seeing you for the first time, and you found yourself stealing glances when he wasn’t looking, wondering if maybe—maybe there was more to him than you’d realized.
the following weeks felt different—lighter, and even with the temperatures dropping even more—it felt unusually warmer.
where there had been tension, there was now an unspoken truce between you and sunghoon.
you’d catch his eye across the room and find a small, almost conspiratorial smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he, too, felt this strange new dynamic between you.
sunghoon’s teasing didn’t completely vanish, but it softened, became something that almost felt like an inside joke between the two of you.
and you found yourself… laughing. a lot. his wit was sharp, his timing impeccable, and his presence that you once found insufferable was now strangely comforting.
one snowy december morning, you arrived at your desk to find a small, neatly wrapped box sitting on top of your keyboard.
you looked around, half-expecting to see sunghoon lurking nearby, but he was nowhere in sight.
the gift wasn’t anything fancy—just a small pack of flavored coffee pods with a tiny note attached in his precise handwriting:
“for when the cafeteria coffee just isn’t enough. -s”
a smile spread across your face, and you felt an unexpected warmth bloom in your chest.
you didn’t know what surprised you more—that he’d noticed your disdain for the cafeteria’s bitter coffee, or that he’d gone out of his way to do something about it.
the gesture was small, almost insignificant, but it felt like a piece of kindness slipped through his carefully maintained armor.
later that day, when you saw him passing by, you couldn’t help but hold up the box and call out, “you know, bribery is illegal in this office.”
he raised an eyebrow, his lips spreading into a smirk.
“consider it a professional courtesy. can’t have you grumbling about the coffee all day and distracting everyone with your complaints.”
“oh, please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes—but you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling that warmth settle even deeper.
sunghoon was watching you, something soft and thoughtful in his gaze, and for a moment, the whole world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.
the holiday season meant long hours at the office, with tight deadlines and clients demanding year-end reports.
you and sunghoon found yourselves frequently the last ones to leave, working side by side in the glow of your computer screens as the office grew quiet around you.
one evening, you’d both stayed late, trying to wrap up a particularly demanding project.
your head was pounding, and you absentmindedly massaged your temples, eyes closed, when you heard the quiet thud of something being set down on your desk.
opening your eyes, you found sunghoon standing there, holding out a cup of tea.
“it’s not coffee,” he said, with a small, awkward smile. “but it’s supposed to help with headaches.”
surprised, you took the cup, feeling your fingers brush his briefly. “thank you,” you murmured, the warmth of the tea seeping through your fingers and into your skin.
you weren’t sure what to make of this new, considerate sunghoon—the same man who once enjoyed riling you up now seemed to be going out of his way to make you feel… cared for.
he didn’t leave, just watched you as you took a sip, his gaze holding a softness that made your heart flutter.
for a moment, you forgot the rivalry, forgot the teasing and the jabs.
all you saw was sunghoon, standing there with a quiet, almost hesitant expression, as if he, too, was trying to understand what was happening between you.
when he finally looked away, clearing his throat awkwardly, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.
the silence hung heavy with words left unsaid, and as he walked back to his desk, you felt a strange longing settle in your chest—a longing that surprised and confused you in equal measure.
a week before christmas, the company sent you and sunghoon out to oversee a local holiday event as part of a charity initiative.
the city was sparkling with lights, carols, and people bundled in scarves and coats, laughing and chattering as they browsed the decorated stalls.
snow had started to fall, dusting the sidewalks in soft white powder.
“stick with me,” sunghoon said, giving you a wink as he led the way through the crowd. “we wouldn’t want you to get lost in the holiday rush.”
“oh, please,” you retorted, rolling your eyes—but you fell into step beside him, the easy banter warming you against the chilly air.
you wandered through the market together, occasionally stopping to admire handcrafted ornaments or taste samples of hot peppermint chocolate.
sunghoon even bought you a gingerbread cookie shaped like a snowman, holding it out with a shy grin.
“it’s not much,” he said, as if embarrassed by the simplicity of it.
“it’s perfect,” you replied, surprised by how genuine your own smile felt.
you took a bite, savoring the sweetness, while sunghoon watched you with an expression that made your heart flutter.
as you made your way through the crowd, you felt his hand brush against yours, a barely-there touch that sent a thrill down your spine.
you glanced up at him, half-expecting a smirk, but his expression was serious, his gaze focused on you in a way that made your heart race.
for a few beats, neither of you spoke, the sounds of the bustling market fading into the background.
sunghoon’s gaze held yours, intense and unwavering, and you felt a strange, almost magnetic pull between you.
you didn’t realize how close you were standing until someone bumped into you from behind, breaking the moment.
sunghoon quickly reached out to steady you, his hand firm and reassuring on your arm.
“are you okay?” he asked, his voice a whisper, his eyes searching yours.
you nodded, suddenly hyper-aware of his hand on your arm. “yeah, i’m fine. thanks.”
he didn’t let go right away, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, just for a second, savoring the warmth and closeness.
when he finally released you, his fingers lingered just a moment too long, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake.
as the evening wound down, you found yourselves standing at the edge of the market, watching the snow fall softly around you.
the streetlights casted a dim, yellow warm glow over the scene, and you could see your breath mingling with his in the chilly air.
sunghoon shifted beside you, his expression unreadable. “you know, i never thought we’d actually get along,” he admitted, his tone quiet, almost hesitant.
“me neither,” you replied, feeling a strange, bittersweet ache in your chest. “guess it took the holidays to bring out the best in us.”
he chuckled softly, but there was something melancholy in his smile. “maybe. or maybe it just took us actually… seeing each other.”
the words hung heavy in the air, their meaning lingering between you.
for the first time, you realized that he hadn’t just been teasing you all those months—maybe he’d been reaching out, trying to connect in the only way he knew how.
and maybe… maybe you’d been doing the same.
the snow continued to fall, soft and silent, as you stood together in a moment that felt suspended in time.
the following monday, you walked into the office to find an unusual hyper buzz in the air.
coworkers were whispering, exchanging knowing looks, and as you made your way to your desk, you could feel their curious glances following you.
“what’s going on?” you finally asked one of your coworkers, trying to ignore the strange, uneasy feeling building in your stomach.
your coworker glanced at you, clearly excited to spill the news. “oh, didn’t you hear? sunghoon’s engaged! his family announced it over the weekend. isn’t that amazing?”
the words hit you like a slap—for a moment, you could only stare, the world tilting around you as the reality sank in.
engaged. park sunghoon was… engaged?
somehow, you managed to keep your composure, nodding along and murmuring something that sounded like congratulations.
but inside, you felt like your heart had been stepped on and crushed into a thousand pieces.
you hadn’t even realized how much he’d come to mean to you until that moment, until the possibility of him slipping out of your life loomed in front of you.
the warmth, the stolen glances, the lingering touches—they all felt like illusions now, shattered by the cold reality of his engagement.
and as the days passed, you found yourself pulling away, avoiding him, unable to face the ache that had settled in your chest.
you convinced yourself it was for the best, that distancing yourself would make it easier.
but each time you caught a glimpse of him—sitting at his desk, laughing with a coworker, or glancing your way with a confused expression—the pain flared, sharp and unyielding.
the annual company christmas party was an elaborate affair held at a high-end hotel ballroom, decked out with garlands, chandeliers wrapped in fairy lights, and a massive christmas tree in the center of the room.
you arrived alone, shivering as the chilly air picked at your bare arms—nerves prickling as you took in the festive crowd of coworkers mingling, laughing, and toasting to the holiday season.
you’d done your best to dress up, but an unmistakable heaviness clung to you—the weight of sunghoon’s engagement lingered, even after avoiding him—you couldn’t escape the haunting of park sunghoon.
you hadn’t spoken to him in days, going out of your way to avoid his attempts to talk.
he’d noticed, of course. the confused glances, the way his brow furrowed when he caught sight of you hurrying out of a room—those small, unspoken moments were like daggers, deepening the ache in your chest.
it hurt more than you’d thought possible, this distance, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to face him.
tonight, the ballroom was filled with the sounds of holiday classics, the gentle clinking of glasses, and the murmur of cheerful conversations.
you pushed your way through the crowd, greeting coworkers and accepting the occasional compliment, but your mind kept wandering, searching for him against your better judgment.
when you finally saw him, standing near the christmas tree in a tailored dark suit, your heart twisted painfully.
he looked… incredible, polished and confident as always, but there was something else in his eyes—a tension, a restlessness that you couldn’t place.
he was surrounded by a small group of colleagues, but he seemed distracted, his gaze scanning the room as if looking for someone.
you turned quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed you, and tried to lose yourself in the crowd.
but even as you made small talk with your coworkers, your attention kept drifting back to him, your heart stubbornly refusing to let go.
at some point in the evening, the lights dimmed, and the band began playing a slow, romantic melody.
a coworker you barely knew approached you, a friendly smile on his face as he offered his hand. “care for a dance?”
the last thing you wanted was to be dragged onto the dance floor, but the thought of standing alone, surrounded by the sight of happy couples, felt worse.
you accepted, letting him guide you to the center of the room.
the music was soft and gentle, filling the room like a quiet whisper—your dance partner was polite, talking amiably as you swayed to the music, but you barely heard a word he said.
your gaze drifted, unbidden, toward sunghoon. he was watching you, his expression hidden in shadow, but you could see the pain in his eyes—a pain that mirrored your own.
for a moment, everything else faded away.
the ballroom, the music, the dozens of people around you—all of it blurred into the background as you met his gaze.
it was a single, suspended moment, one that hung heavy with all the things left unsaid, all the secrets you’d kept bottled up.
sunghoon’s expression was raw, his eyes shining with an intensity that left you breathless.
he looked… devastated, as if the sight of you dancing with someone else was tearing him apart.
a flicker of hope sparked in your heart, but you quickly quashed it, reminding yourself that he was engaged.
and yet… the look in his eyes felt so real, so heartbreakingly genuine, that you almost believed he cared as deeply as you did.
when the song ended, you quickly excused yourself from your dance partner, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.
you retreated to the side of the room, fighting to steady your breath as you chugged a glass of champagne, all while trying to make sense of the emotions swirling inside you.
moments later, the ceo stepped up to the front of the room, tapping the microphone and quieting the crowd.
he began his speech, thanking everyone for their hard work and loyalty over the past year, his words filled with the usual corporate platitudes.
you listened half-heartedly, your mind elsewhere, still reeling from the intensity of sunghoon’s gaze.
as the ceo’s speech drew to a close, he turned to sunghoon with a broad smile.
“and of course, we can’t end this night without congratulating our very own park sunghoon on his recent engagement!”
a round of applause erupted, and all eyes turned to sunghoon—he stood there, looking cornered, his face a mix of frustration and anguish as he glanced out at the crowd, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.
his gaze flicked to you for just a moment, but it was enough for you to see the raw emotion in his eyes—the pain, the longing, and something deeper, something desperate.
the applause began to fade, and an uncomfortable silence settled over the room as everyone waited for him to respond.
you held your breath, watching as he took a deep, steadying breath and then lifted his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before finally resting on you.
“i… i have something to say,” he began, his voice trembling just slightly, though he tried to mask it with a steady, confident tone. “my parents may have announced an engagement, but i… i can’t go through with it.”
a collective gasp rippled through the crowd, murmurs breaking out as people exchanged shocked glances.
sunghoon held his ground, his eyes never leaving yours, and you felt your heart pounding wildly, your entire body frozen as his words sank in.
“i can’t go through with it,” he continued, his voice stronger now, filled with a conviction that made your chest ache. “because… because i’m in love with someone else.”
his words echoed in the silence, hanging in the air like a confession to the whole world—the room was utterly still, every eye fixed on him, but he seemed oblivious to them all, focused solely on you.
your breath caught, and you felt a wave of shock and disbelief wash over you, mingled with a wild, desperate hope.
sunghoon took a step closer towards you, his eyes filled with an intensity that left you breathless.
“i’m in love with you, y/n. i’ve been so in love with you—for longer than i want to admit.”
the entire room was staring now, but all you could see was him.
your heart raced, your mind whirling as you struggled to process what he’d just said—part of you wanted to run, to escape the weight of all those eyes on you, but another part, a larger part, wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you and let yourself fall into his arms.
but it was all too much—the crowd, the confession, the overwhelming emotions crashing over you like a tidal wave.
without another word, you turned and fled, pushing your way through the stunned crowd, your heart pounding as you made your way outside.
the cold air hit you like a slap, shocking your senses and grounding you just enough to keep you from collapsing under the weight of it all.
you were barely halfway down the steps when you heard footsteps behind you.
“y/n! wait!”
you turned to see sunghoon jogging after you, his face pale, eyes wide with worry.
he reached for you, but you took a step back, shaking your head, barely able to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.
“why did you do that, sunghoon?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “why did you have to say all that in front of everyone?”
he looked at you, desperation etched into every line of his face. “because i couldn’t keep it inside anymore,” he said, his voice raw, broken. “i couldn’t pretend. not when… not when all i want is you.”
you shook your head, struggling to keep your composure. “you don’t understand. you can’t just… say things like that, sunghoon. you’re engaged—your family…”
“i don’t care about any of that!” he interrupted, his voice rising. “i don’t care about the engagement, the expectations, any of it. none of it matters if i can’t be with you.”
his words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your defenses crumbling, piece by piece.
but the fear, the uncertainty, was still there, clawing at you, refusing to let you give in.
“i don’t need your pity,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “i don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
he looked at you, hurt flashing in his eyes. “this isn’t pity, y/n. i’m not trying to save you. i just… i just want to be with you.”
for a moment, you stood there, the silence between you filled with all the things left unsaid.
and then, before he could say anything more, you turned and walked away, the tears finally spilling over as you slipped into the cab and closed the door, leaving him standing there alone in the falling snow.
the next morning, you woke with a heavy heart, the memory of last night replaying in your mind.
you felt raw, vulnerable, and yet, there was a faint glimmer of hope buried beneath the ache—a hope that maybe, this was real.
your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at your door.
you rose, heart pounding, and opened it to find sunghoon standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers, his eyes red-rimmed as if he hadn’t slept.
you’d expected sunghoon to be at the door, waiting with an apology or a question—but you hadn’t expected him to look so vulnerable.
his usual confidence was gone, replaced by a rawness that mirrored everything you’d felt since the night before.
the bouquet he held was a mix of wildflowers and holiday greenery—red berries and sprigs of pine woven among soft white flowers that stood out against the darkness of the early morning.
when you finally took the bouquet from his hands, your fingers brushed his, sending a jolt of warmth through you.
the simple touch said everything words hadn’t—the apology, the relief, and maybe most of all, the overwhelming sense of rightness that you couldn’t ignore any longer.
the silence stretched, each of you looking at the other, feeling the weight of all that had come before and the fragile hope for what might come next.
he looked at you, eyes searching your face with a hesitance that felt new, uncertain.
“y/n…” he began, his voice soft, each syllable filled with a vulnerability you’d never heard before.
“i know last night was… overwhelming. and i’m sorry if i put you on the spot, but i meant every single word.”
you felt your heart flutter, the sincerity in his gaze unshakable—he looked at you as if you were something precious, something he’d been waiting his whole life to hold close.
and that look, filled with quiet awe and devotion, undid every defense you’d carefully built over the years.
“i was afraid to believe it,” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “i was so afraid that this would all be some fleeting thing for you. that i’d just be another distraction.”
his brows knit together in disbelief, and he reached up, gently brushing a stray tear from your cheek.
“a distraction?” he murmured, a trace of pain in his voice. “y/n, you’re the only person i’ve ever been able to be… real with. you see me—beyond my name, beyond the expectations. i didn’t know how much i needed that until i met you.”
for a moment, you just looked at him, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a warm blanket.
every snide comment, every misunderstanding, every late night spent working together—each memory replayed in your mind, and suddenly, it all made sense.
what you’d shared wasn’t just rivalry or convenience; it had been the start of something deeper, something real.
“i’ve wanted to hear that for so long,” you said, a soft laugh escaping you. “i just… i couldn’t admit it, not even to myself.”
a slow, relieved smile spread across his face, and he took a step closer, pulling you into a gentle hug. his arms wrapped around you, holding you close in a way that felt so natural, as if you’d been made to fit there.
he smelled faintly of cedar and pine, a comforting, earthy scent that made you feel warm and safe.
you could feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong, grounding you as everything else melted away.
“then stay with me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “stay with me, y/n. i’ll prove to you that this is real. that i’m all in.”
you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, searching for any hint of uncertainty.
but all you saw was unwavering devotion, a promise he seemed ready to carry for as long as you needed.
“i love you, sunghoon,” you said, feeling the words roll off your tongue, soft and unrestrained, like a sigh of relief after holding your breath for too long.
“i think… i’ve loved you for a long time. even when i couldn’t admit it, even when you drove me crazy.”
a soft laugh escaped him, and he looked at you with an expression filled with wonder, as if he, too, had been waiting his whole life to hear those words.
“i never thought i’d hear you say that,” he whispered, his voice thick with admiration and softness.
“neither did i,” you admitted, your smile mirroring his.
he leaned down, cupping your face with gentle hands as he closed the small distance between you.
his lips met yours in a kiss that was soft, warm, and filled with the quiet certainty that this was where you were meant to be.
the world around you faded, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the lingering taste of his kiss.
the weeks that followed felt like a dream.
for the first time, you let yourself enjoy the simplicity of being with him, unburdened by the anxieties that had once kept you apart.
sunghoon’s presence became a comfort, a steady warmth that you found yourself relying on more and more.
with christmas only a few days away, he insisted on taking you to a secluded cabin his family owned, nestled in a quiet of a forest just outside the city.
when you arrived, snow covered the ground in a perfect blanket, undisturbed and glistening under the faint light of a winter sunset.
the cabin was charmingly rustic, decorated with fairy lights and pine wreaths, and a cozy fire crackled in the stone fireplace, filling the room with a comforting warmth.
sunghoon stood behind you as you both took in the view, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.
“welcome to our first tradition,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with warmth.
“our first tradition?” you echoed, a smile playing on your lips.
he nodded, pulling you closer. “i want to spend every christmas with you. just like this—peaceful, just us. no crowds, no expectations. just you, me, and… maybe a cup of hot chocolate.”
you laughed, turning in his arms to face him. “i could get used to that.”
he smiled, reaching up to brush a snowflake from your hair—the gesture was so tender, so filled with quiet adoration, that your heart swelled with love for him all over again.
“let’s go inside,” he said, taking your hand. “there’s something i want to show you.”
you followed him into the cabin, where he led you to a small table by the window.
on it was a simple, carefully wrapped box with a red ribbon tied around it—he handed it to you, his eyes warm and expectant.
you opened the box to find a small, delicate charm bracelet with a single charm—a tiny snowflake, etched in silver.
it sparkled under the dim light, catching the glow from the fire.
“it’s beautiful, hoon..” you whispered, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift.
he reached out, clasping it around your wrist with a soft smile. “i wanted something that would remind you of this moment. of us.”
your throat tightened, and you looked up at him, feeling an overwhelming wave of gratitude and love.
he’d given you so much more than a gift—he’d given you a promise, a quiet assurance that he was in this for the long haul.
“thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
he smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “merry christmas, y/n.”
as you stood there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the snow began to fall outside, blanketing the world in a peaceful, serene quiet.
the warmth of the cabin, the gentle crackling of the fire, and the soft glow of fairy lights filled the space, making it feel like you were in your own little world.
and in that moment, you realized that everything you’d gone through—every argument, every misunderstanding, every long, quiet night spent wondering what could have been—had all been worth it.
because it had led you here, to this moment, to him.
the rest of the night was spent in quiet conversation, sharing dreams and hopes for the future as you watched the snow fall outside.
you talked about everything and nothing, feeling the joy of being together without any walls between you.
the future was a blank canvas, filled with endless possibilities, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to picture it—each memory, each holiday, painted with sunghoon by your side.
as the night drew to a close, you found yourself drifting off to sleep in his arms, the fire casting soft shadows across the room, wrapping you both in warmth.
sunghoon’s heartbeat was a steady lullaby, soothing and constant, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of it, knowing that this was only the beginning.
and as you closed your eyes, a single thought lingered, filling you with a quiet, profound happiness—
you were finally home.
© WON4KISS 2024 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.
୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @sol3chu @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @moon368 @senascoooop @suneng @onlyjjong @blockbusterhee @wensurr @wiccangirl29 @vousmevoxes @heeswif3y @getoxo @50-husbands @wildtigerlili @letwiiparkjay @loves0ft @yuriknows : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.
#࣪ ︵ֺ︵ ㅤlu’s : writes ㅤ𝜚 ۪ ⠀ ⪩⪨#𝑘 ── ✉️#svnet#enhablr#enhypen imagines#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen x reader#enhypen fanfic#enhypen drabbles#enha imagines#enha x reader#park sunghoon smau#park sunghoon fanfic#park sunghoon imagine#park sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon imagines#sunghoon fics#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon fanfic#sunghoon oneshots#enhypen oneshots#enhypen imagine#enhypen fluff#enha fanfic#enha fics#enhypen fics#enhypen scenarios#sunghoon headcanons#sunghoon fluff
513 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you imagine pregnant medic reader feeling baby kick for the first time and not wanting to interrupt the boys in practice/at a game but knowing how much they’d want to feel the baby?? (Can be with any of the boys or all of them LOL)
so cuttteeee
hockey!marauders x team medic!reader who interrupts practice [877 words]
CW: pregnancy, afab fem!reader, poly!marauders
The boys have been conflicted about you still working ever since they found out you were expecting.
On one hand, they liked having you close by; within their sights should you need them, and just getting to enjoy the pregnancy with you even when they were traveling for away games.
On the other hand, they hated that you spent so much of your job on your feet, they were extremely nervous having you so close to the action of the game, and don’t even get them started when you have to step out onto the ice.
But you were determined to work for as long as you possibly could, and you couldn’t deny that part of you enjoyed getting to spend as much time as possible with your boyfriends during this very exciting time of your lives.
Were there times you wondered if you wouldn’t perhaps benefit from a little space from them? Sure. Especially when James tried to sit in on all of your appointments with the guys to ensure you weren’t straining yourself, or when Sirius stood directly in your line of sight at every game in an attempt to ‘save you from the tomfoolery, babe’, or when Remus shoved anyone who tried to help you out onto the ice so he could chaperone you himself.
But there were moments - like this - that found you so grateful to have them close by.
“You okay, mama?” Coach Moody asked, though he didn’t bother moving his gaze from the ice where head coach Albus was standing with the boys for practice. “You seem jumpy.”
You hummed in agreement as you placed a hand on your stomach; gently pushing and prodding what felt like a hard part of a little body, wondering if you were only imagining it.
You’d become aware that you weren’t simply growing at about eighteen weeks into your pregnancy when you felt the baby move for the first time. It was like you remembered that your pants were shrinking for an actual reason. But any movement on the baby's part could only be felt internally.
Today, however-
“Oh.” You whispered, and Moody wrenched his eyes from the ice to grab your elbow.
“Doc? Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes. Sorry.” You let out with a laugh; looking to the ice to ensure the boys couldn’t see you being fussed over even though you sort of wanted to call them over here yourself.
“What do you need?” Moody gruffed, though he kept his voice low as if knowing any attention directed your way would result in cacophony from nearly half the team.
“No, nothing. Sorry Coach.” You laughed. “I just…I think, well, the baby’s kicking.”
Moody furrowed his eyes at you as he examined your face; one blue eye piercing and intuitive, the other glass eye which saw the iris and pupil replaced by the Gryffindor Lion’s logo seemed just as knowing.
“First time?”
“First time I can feel it with my hand, yeah.”
He looked you over one last time, cautiously removing his hand from your elbow and looking out onto the ice before blowing his whistle.
“Gather ‘round.” He barked, and though Albus looked confused, he allowed the team to head to the bench.
“Did ya miss us, Moody?” Sirius sing-songed as he made his way over, James laughing and Remus rolling his eyes in response.
“The only time I get any peace is when the lot of you fuck off.” Moody barked back, but his face stayed soft. “Your baby’s kicking.”
Sirius’ teasing smirk fell quickly as he whipped his head to you, James nearly fell over in his haste to make it to you and Remus quickly skated around the clump of bodies to join him; all three of them leaning against the boards in front of you.
“You didn’t have to stop practice for this…” You chided Moody gently, but it seemed that Sirus, James, and Remus weren’t the only one’s excited about it.
“Oh my god! Can I feel!?” Fenwick called, earning him an elbow in the side from Remus.
“Not before us? What the fuck…” Sirius mumbled, keeping his eyes on your stomach as if he could see it.
“Well hurry up then! You’ve got a line behind you.” Grönvall hollered then.
“Goalie first; is rule.” Krum muttered as he placed himself in front of both Fenwick and Grönvall, though politely stayed behind the three boys who all tucked one glove under their opposite arm and held their hands out to you.
The practice arena fell quiet as the entire team held their breath, and you felt sort of horrified at the sudden pressure to perform.
“This will be so embarrassing if it doesn’t happen again.” You admitted quietly, suddenly very embarrassed to have interrupted practice.
Remus made a humming sound in dissent as he brushed his thumb over your belly, and then it happened.
“Holy shit!” James cheered, Sirius’ head snapping up to beam a smile at you.
“Did you feel that!?” Sirius asked no one in particular, but you, James, and Remus all confirmed that you did.
“Okay great! Next!” Dearborn called from behind Grönvall, and that’s how you ended up spending the rest of the practice with various hands on your stomach at any given moment.
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#james potter x reader#james potter x you#the marauders#marauders x reader#poly marauders x reader#poly marauders x you#marauders#pregnancy trope#pregnancy fic#pregnant!reader#ellecdc fics#nhl au#hockey au
603 notes
·
View notes
Text
I volunteer, and I find it enjoyable, but I feel like the anarchist response to this election being "well we just have to volunteer harder and build community ourselves" is misplaced. At some point the federal government takes trillions of dollars and gives almost nothing of value. Telling people to do these assholes jobs for them, unpaid, is not the best advice.
So here is my advice. You have to pay attention. You have to read actual newsources, like AP and Reuters and NPR and your local paper. You have to be informed. Today NHPR posted an article contemplating whether Trump is going to revert to the Schedule F changes for civil servants. Do you know exactly what that means? Do you know which employees in which offices would be affected, and how? Do you know if you even support or oppose that actual policy change? What about context - what's the median salary for workers in that field, and how has it changed under Biden?
Nobody can know everything about everything, so pick a couple of issues you care about and get REALLY, really informed. Research deep dive. Triple check sources. It's not enough to disagree with Trump's general brand. If you're able to go into the next election with concrete policy changes Trump made that you disagree with, it's going to be less emotional to confront Trump supporters and gauge how misinformed they really are. I know it's boring and stressful, and the absolute worst part of it is that you're going to find there are an awful lot of policy points where this asshole doesn't diverge from what the Democrats did / wanted to do at all. The DOT was equally underfunded under Trump and Biden, for example. If you care about bridges and highways and trains and airplanes, maybe make that one of the issues you get informed about. Or make a friend you trust who is covering that, and get updates from them. Do not depend on mainstream news outlets.
Find out the names of all the mutual aid and advocacy groups in your region. Are there a whole lot? What have they accomplished? Don't jump right into volunteering until you know what their work fully entails. Who are they helping? Who do you want to help the most? And if the answer to that question is not "people who have the least" but rather "people who are like me," think hard on that.
Your time is precious. Use it to become an expert, and then share that expertise freely. We are fighting wars on the fronts of attention and information.
460 notes
·
View notes
Text
Don’t worry, I’ve been told I’ll get advanced notice if the world is ending from my buddy in Poland. I’ll make sure to keep you all posted on that. Of course, he also had an interesting thing to tell me, which I will quote because I think a lot of folks need to hear this. However, saving that for a little bit later because I feel like folks could use a bit of a motivational speech (I gave my first one today focused on hope, and boy do we need it).
Here goes.
I want to start by reminding people that it’s ok to feel. Whether that’s anger, sadness, hope, happiness, or whatever else you’re feeling, it is ok to feel them. Emotions should not be suppressed. I work very hard to ensure that I am a part of a community that is not only safe, but somewhere I can call home. I am always willing to invite more people into my home, especially in times of need as feeling safe is something everyone deserves.
I know that when faced with outcomes such as these, it is considerably easier to live with a victory than a loss. This is why this I am speaking about hope, having hope. I understand that not everyone has hope right now. If you do have it, please try to share some of that hope with those that do not have it. If you do not have it, hopefully you can find some in this reblog.
I am fairly certain that everyone has had the experience when something doesn’t go their way. In the realm of Ninja (the obstacle course racing variety), this is rampant. Perhaps we fell on the first obstacle of a course, or perhaps we missed qualifying for finals by mere seconds. When this happens, we have two choices. We can either stay down and let the negativity eat away at us, or we can get back up and keep training and trying until we reach our goal.
Unfortunately, we can only do that during training. On a course, when we fail obstacle one, that’s it, we don’t get a second chance. We don’t have that choice to stay down or get back up as we can’t change the outcome. As depressing as that sounds, it’s true.
You can’t change what happened and you don’t get the choice to “get up and try it again”. But we don’t have to sit and cry, complain, or hide from it either. We don’t have to give up.
Right now, there are lots of us that are down. We have communities that we feel safe and welcome in to support us when we need them. Together, as we refuse to give up, we can do each and every thing to help better our communities. It may not be a large difference, but a difference is a difference, and a difference matters! We can leave a smile, a compliment, or even a positive message behind because if someone is having a rough day, those small actions can make a large difference for them.
I encourage you to try to bridge outside of your comfort zone and meet new people, join new communities and try to spread some positivity in the world. I did so earlier today by giving a very similar speech to this one and again now by posting an abbreviated version of it. Do your best to make a difference with all people, no matter who they are, what they look like, or what they stand for. Because we will overcome whatever is thrown our way together, and by helping those that are struggling to overcome their own obstacles. We will believe and we will have faith. We may not know who or what to believe in, but we all know that we can believe in each other.
To finish us off, that quote from my friend in Poland.
“Remember that life is a long distance race. In a few months, a lot will change. In a few years, whole world will look completely different. Don’t lose your energy and faith in being a good person. World will need good people.”
Choose to be kind, caring, compassionate, and empathetic.
I’m signing off for now, maybe I’ll return with the next one I end up giving.
#destiel confession meme#motivational speech#be kind#be a good person#stay strong#don’t give up#we will get through this#together.#late thought but maybe not as motivational as I wanted it to be#hope someone finds it motivational
27K notes
·
View notes
Text
★ 02. MORNING ROUTINE !
☆ after filming your first scene and talking it over with your agent, you’re off to your second . . in a maid costume!? once filming is over, you’re roped into an interesting conversation regarding a few other stars.
warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, everyone is over 21, oral (f receiving), cum eating, maids, awkwardness, creampie, unprotected sex. | 4.9K words
xoxo, juno. SHES BACKKKKK! comment & rb if you enjoyed! thank u to wolfy anon for proofreading ily ♡
SHOWTIME MLIST.
“hey, good morning,” shinsou rushes up to you at the doors, lightly grabbing onto your shoulder before you can walk into the studio. “how’d yesterday’s shoot go for you?”
“good morning!” you reply happily, lighting up as you turn to face your agent. “let’s get some coffee from the place across the street, and i can tell you while we walk?”
“sounds good,” he exhales, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. “it’s definitely getting colder, god. i could seriously use some coffee.”
“ah, it is. anyway, filming wasn’t too bad. i had director iida, i believe? yeah, he was pretty alright.” you and shinsou walk side by side, stopping to hit the button and waiting for the lights to change.
shinsou gives a small smile, crossing the street with you. “how’d it go with your co-star? i figured he’d be a good introduction for you.”
“shōto was nice,” you say, warmth rising to your cheeks. the memory of being pressed against him and fucking is a little blurry, but just thinking about it has your pussy clenching around nothing. the faint feeling of his touch ghosts across your skin, and you clear your throat awkwardly. “um . . i think we ended up doing well together.”
shinsou’s not surprised. after all, he pulled the strings behind the scenes to get you with him.
“that’s good! i’ve been meaning to ask you about what you’re interested to do today,” shinsou holds the door of the coffee shop open for you and follows you inside. “i’ll get you up to speed after we order, alright? and don’t worry, i’ll just cover your drink.”
“oh,” you’re in the middle of unzipping your purse, “you really don’t have to, shinsou! i’ve got it.”
“i insist, it’s my treat.” he leaves no room for you to fight him any further, and you place the order together once it’s your turn.
“what were you saying about filming today?” you draw his attention back to the aforementioned topic as you sit down at a table together to wait for your drinks.
“oh, that’s right. you’ve been booked by a lot of different people, so you’ve gotta choose who you want to film with today. personally, i think you’ve got some decent options.”
“is that so?” you exhale, wondering if anyone else could possibly top your experience with shōto. but of course, you’re employed at a pornography studio, where dreams become reality and anything is possible.
shinsou’s voice drops to a low whisper, his words meant for your ears only. “well, there’s this . . maid thing, or some kind of bdsm shoot.”
“those are not good options,” you groan, closing your eyes briefly in disgust. “who’re the people booking? anyone important?”
“obviously, the maid film is from denki kaminari. the bdsm is—”
you’ve seen denki kaminari’s videos before. he seems to be energetic and also a little pervy, but he’s good looking and you’re not in the mood to be tied up in ropes or chains.
“i’ll go with the maid film. is he offering a lot?”
“kaminari’s a bit . . eccentric,” shinsou offers, waving his hand dismissively. “he doesn’t usually book with a set amount in mind like everyone else does. he prefers to shoot the film and then pay based off of what it makes.”
so, there are a few financial risks when it comes to choosing denki kaminari, but you sigh and bite the bullet. “that’s not ideal, but i’ll take it. when’s it scheduled?”
shinsou looks over at a mounted clock behind you, “if you’re going for this, you’re supposed to be over there in an hour.”
the barista calls out shinsou’s name, and you pick up the coffees while he sends a confirmation email to kaminari’s agent.
your arrival to shinsou’s office is met with an assistant of some kind dropping off a garment bag. through the fabric, you can see big frills and bows that most definitely will be itchy when you’re going around in it.
shinsou takes the bag with a sigh, and the assistant presses a yellow sticky note to the side of it before scurrying off quickly. you pick up the yellow paper and read the messy writing scrawled onto it.
hey! please change into this before arriving to set, director’s orders. we hope the dress is comfortable, even though it doesn’t look like it.
“i assume this is from kaminari?” you say flatly, tugging the sticky note off the bag.
“of course it is,” shinsou replies, holding the door open for you, “you can change in here before you head over. by the way, you’re heading to the fourth floor and turning to the left.”
“thanks, shinsou.”
unzipping the garment bag yields a frilly black and white dress decked out with bows and all kinds of lace. tucked in neatly beside the dress is a folded set of thigh high socks and a prop duster that looks as though it’s never been used. you pull off your clothes and change into the provided ones with little excitement. at the very least, you’ll get paid well and then end up filming something better, hopefully again with shōto.
shinsou nearly drops his phone when you step out of his office in that ridiculous dress—it looks so good on you, accentuating your chest and complimenting your figure beautifully. you fiddle with the bow necktie, fingers tangling in the black fabric. his mouth goes dry when you look up at him shyly, gesturing toward the necktie as best you can.
“could you help me tie this, shinsou?”
“of course,” he nods politely, snapping out of his daze. his nimble fingers undo the knots you’ve created and he ties it easily for you, pulling it into a snug bow. “you look great, by the way.” immediately after the words leave his mouth, he regrets having added that bit, but you smile at him and give him a spin, letting your skirt fan out.
“thanks. wish me luck?”
“good luck,” shinsou laughs dryly, turning away quickly before you can notice the redness blooming on his cheeks. “remember, fourth floor and to the left. there’ll be a sign or something on the door.”
you wave, thanking him again, and you both go your separate ways. the elevator comes quickly, and you go upwards silently, until the elevator stops a floor too early.
“there’s my pretty co-star!” an energetic voice exclaims, and the owner of it steps onto the elevator, practically buzzing with excitement. “come on, we can head up together!”
you recognize him easily; denki kaminari’s signature blond hair has a streak of black through it, and he’s got a winning smile playing on his lips, showcasing his nice teeth.
“it’s nice to meet you,” you say, offering a hand in his direction. his energy isn’t off putting, just a little . . much for the first film of the day. kaminari instead wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you a warm hug as though you’re a long lost friend of his.
the elevator’s chugging upwards slowly, and kaminari’s still wrapped around you. well, okay. this is slightly weird; you’re going to be all over each other in less than twenty minutes and he’s already this friendly? something about him already has you on edge, necktie suddenly feeling like a noose.
you cough, pulling away and practically skittering into the corner of the elevator. he looks at you weirdly, confusion written all over his face, but you straighten and smooth out the ruffles on your dress.
“i’m sorry, it’s—we just met,” you utter, at a loss for words. maybe this is just how he is, but now you’re starting to worry if you’ve jeopardized your dynamic on set with him.
kaminari’s features soften with embarrassment, cheeks growing pink. then he very obviously panics internally, voice frantic and high as he tries to explain himself.
“oh my god! you’re right, i’m so sorry!” he stumbles over his words, and you wonder if the elevator is stuck with how long it’s taking. “i’m sorry, i really . . i’ve wanted to meet you for the longest time, and now you must think i’m a dumbass—ah, sorry!”
at last, the elevator finally comes to a halt. its doors open and you dash out, kaminari following with his head hanging. before you can open the door, he stops you with a sigh.
“wait, i—i want to redo our first meeting.”
you turn, gracing him with your attention and patience. “and how exactly do you plan to redo it?”
“with a proper introduction and handshake. no hugs, i promise.” he seems genuine, and your shoulders start to relax. kaminari extends his hand, a truce, and envelops yours once you reach out too.
“well, you already know me. just call me denki, though, okay? no kaminari or anything.”
“understood, denki.”
the door is thrown open and director yaoyorozu pops her head out, looking left and right.
“there you two are! goodness, i was about to send out a search party.”
“it’s nice to meet you,” you say, shaking her hand and stepping inside behind her. “in the email, you didn’t have any kind of script . . is this some kind of freestyle thing?”
“i am so glad you asked,” she sighs, pulling the sharpened pencil from behind her ear. “i’ve got a simple idea to go off of, but the rest of it is up to you.”
“up to us?” denki chokes out, sounding shocked.
“um, yes?” the director sniffs, confused. “remember, you came to me with all of this.”
“director yaomomo, i thought you’d come up with a script!” he whines lamely, and she only rolls her eyes.
“kaminari, please. next time you’re booking a set, director, and supplies last minute, make sure you’ve got something for them to work with besides a generic concept.”
“director, the pancakes are finished and the set is ready.” a member of the film crew flashes her a double thumbs up and a smile.
“great, thanks so much,” yaoyorozu gushes before turning back toward you and denki. “so, the theme here is maids, of course. in this film, she’ll be waiting on you and waking you up with breakfast while you’re fake sleeping. obviously, you’re aware of what takes place next.”
“so, minimal dialogue?” you ask, folding your arms as you listen closely.
“the scene may have as much dialogue as you want it to. i’ll let you two head off and prep before we get started, okay?”
director yaoyorozu’s dark ponytail swings behind her as she saunters off toward the set to make a few more adjustments. denki waves at you, then heads off toward the changing area while you sigh.
—
“is everyone entirely ready and in position?”
a few stage crew members adjust the lighting and some microphones before giving yaoyorozu confirmation through raised thumbs. she nods toward you, just as someone places a hefty tray into your hands. the silver platter carries a plate stacked high with blueberry pancakes, drizzled in syrup, and a tall glass of orange juice beside it. matching silverware sits neatly beside the plate, atop a folded napkin.
yaoyorozu crosses her legs in her director’s chair, while you try not to shake with the heavy breakfast platter in your hands. orange juice lurches from side to side in the glass, threatening to spill over if you don’t remain steady.
“action!”
you smile when you step through the doorway, sweat beading along your forehead as you try to mask the nervousness. denki’s shirtless and on his stomach in the bed, a mess of sheets and blankets covering his lower half. trembling, you finally set the breakfast platter down on the bedside table, taking a seat on the bed.
denki’s getting hard just from feeling the shift of your weight on the mattress. the director might have to end filming early with the way his breath hitches at the touch of your palm to his back. slowly, you rub his skin in small circles, encouraging him to wake up. is it possible to be aroused from an almost entirely innocent gesture coming from someone you don’t know?
he stirs with a groan, turning over with a yawn. denki looks up at you through hooded eyes, his lower half still tangled in the bedsheets.
“good morning, sleepyhead,” you sigh, a lot less nervous now that you’re no longer holding onto that damn tray. “i made you breakfast and cleaned around the house. gently dusted your figure collection too.”
“t-thank you,” denki smiles, sitting up. “uh, what’s for breakfast?”
“blueberry pancakes and OJ,” you say automatically, cutting a piece off the sticky pastries with the fork. “i think you’ll love it.”
there’s something too intimate about the way you feed him the piece of the pancake, your eyes on his as he swallows it.
“well?” you breathe expectantly, lifting his chin and tilting it toward you when he shyly averts his eyes. the simple gesture startles him, sends his heart into quite the flurry, and denki finds himself fighting to get a grip. really, he’s never been this awkward on set in all his years as a pornstar—in fact, a film like this would be the easiest for him . . so why’s it so difficult?
a few sparks fly between you when denki grabs your chin in return, tugging you into a kiss. you gasp, startled, and he licks into your mouth, letting you taste the sweetness of the pancakes for yourself. seriously, whoever made them deserves head; they’re sweet and fruity, but maybe they just taste better on denki’s tongue.
he moans deeply against your lips, and you swallow the low sound with one of your own. beneath all the frills and lacy ruffles, sticky arousal begins to pool in your panties, soaking through the fabric far too easily. meanwhile, denki’s trepidation melts away fully; he grows more absorbed in the kiss, until he regretfully pulls away for breath.
you look at him through your lashes, nodding blissfully when he looks toward your skirt. denki slowly slips a hand beneath all the fabric and groans loudly, his fingers swiping at your damp panties before moving past the fabric to stroke your slick folds.
before you can move into another kiss, the director lets out a peeved sigh and shakes her head, “cut!”
denki pushes a finger inside of you, savoring the gasp you let out like a piece of specialty candy. “listen to yaomomo for both of us, ‘kay?”
“b-but they’re not rolling,” you protest in a whisper shout, although your hips jerk toward him when he sinks in all the way to his knuckle.
“no rules against it, baby.” the once anxious denki you met thirty minutes ago is gone, replaced with the confident pornstar you’ve come to know through years of watching UA’s videos.
yaoyorozu claps her hands together, facing you and denki but not noticing anything going on beneath the umbrella-like cover of your skirt.
“you’re both doing well so far, but when i said the amount of dialogue was up to you, i didn’t mean no talking at all.”
“do we have to reshoot what we’ve done so far?” you gasp out when denki curls his finger right against your g-spot, sending shockwaves of heat throughout your entire body.
nobody seems to notice the inflection in your voice, and the director offers a small smile.
“no, it’s alright, we’ll just edit everything together before it goes out. you’re both doing great, by the way!” her praise is reassuring, and she hops up onto her chair again, then gestures for the crew members to position the cameras.
“action.”
denki’s lips find yours in a bruising kiss, tongue swiping against your lower lip impatiently. he’s quick to pull you on top of him too, wet fingers tugging up your skirt to give the camera a full view of your soaked panties and ass.
“what about the pancakes?” you ask, remembering the director’s tip about the dialogue. if she were to call cut again, the interruption would surely drive you insane.
“what pancakes?”
“the ones i made for you,” you breathe against his lips, eyes flicking to the bedside table. “over there, with the—”
he takes your distraction as an opportunity to press his face into your neck, taking in the smell of your perfume and the softness of your skin. low and quiet, he whispers into your ear, “fuck, you’ve got no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this—for you.”
you whine as he kicks the bedsheets off his body, firmly placing you atop his hard cock. through your panties and his boxers, you can feel the ridges of his tip and the heat of his body.
“how do you want it?” denki purrs, hands settled on your hips. “from the back . . bent over?”
the options he gives you only ignite the arousal burning in your core further; you move off of him, settling on all fours. the wild look you toss him from over your shoulder makes him groan, and he yanks his underwear and pajama pants off as quickly as he can, hurling them into a corner of the set.
“fuckin’ soaked, baby,” he coos, flipping up your skirt and slipping a few fingers beneath the crotch of your panties. your cunt flutters around nothing as he pulls the underwear off, with enough force for the microphones to pick up the ripping sound that follows. “is this all for me?”
he flings the torn garment off the bed carelessly, and it silently lands somewhere on the carpet.
“o-only for you.”
denki chuckles, and guides his cock toward your entrance, but doesn’t push it in just yet. instead, he strokes the tip up and down, gathering your wetness to provide extra lubrication. the tease has your toes curling and your eyes rolling back; denki gifts your ass with a slap, letting out a low whistle.
“you’ll get what you want soon enough, baby. i just . . feel like something’s missing.”
you look over your shoulder when the bed creaks, your co star’s weight leaving the mattress. he grabs at the drawer of the bedside table, and the glass of orange juice rattles against the silver platter from the movement. even director yaoyorozu looks a little lost for words, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
the drawer slams shut and denki returns to the bed behind you in a flash, a miniature black and white vibrator between his fingers. yaoyorozu settles back into her chair with a contented expression, signaling for the cameraman to zoom in between your bodies.
the soft, rubbery head of the vibrator nudges against your clit and you gasp. denki slants his body over yours, pushing his cock inside of you shallowly.
“i—i don’t think i can t-take all of it,” you swallow nervously, inhaling sharply when he bucks his hips forward and plunges inside you, bottoming out easily.
“that’s fuckin’ nonsense,” he groans, pushing a hand through his blond hair to get it away from his eyes. then it wraps loosely around your throat before you can protest any further. “‘course my girl can take it.”
my girl?
denki startles even himself. but this is the magic of being a pornstar and filming around the clock. he’s built up a persona for himself that he always seems to slip into no matter how he’s feeling. he’s thankful for this; otherwise, he’d be a bumbling fool who’d accidentally fuck your thighs, too caught up with excitement to get it together.
his teeth sink into his lower lip hard, scraping against the skin rather roughly as the words burst from his lips uncontrollably.
“g-god, you’ve got no idea how damn long i’ve been waiting to fuck this pretty pussy,” the vibrator turns on and presses flush against your clit, already at the highest setting. “ngh, you’re so tight, baby—got me all worked up with the little maid dress, heh. you look beautiful in it, i swear.”
his babbling soon falls on deaf ears, and you unintentionally tune him out, unable to hear him clearly over your ragged moans and cries. denki’s hips set a somewhat even pace, skin smacking into skin while the vibrator seems to only get more intense.
“c’mon, babe, arch a lil more for me,” he huffs, his palm nudging against the middle of your back.
with a whine, you do as he instructs, burying your face in the sheets.
“aw, i still wanna hear you clearly.” denki clicks his tongue, his fingers leaving the sides of your throat and instead tugging on your necktie. he turns it backwards and pulls your head back so you’re not muffled any longer.
“f-fuck, you’re so deep,” you sob, his strokes growing faster and rougher. the bed creaks beneath you, shaking loudly, and despite his panting, denki’s determined to give you the best sex you’ll ever have at UA studios.
“yeah, babe? feel my cock right here in your tummy?” denki’s voice is strained, his free hand wandering to the plush skin above your pelvis. he presses down experimentally, and he swears you get tighter.
it’s only a little pressure, but it sends shockwaves of something intense throughout your body and knocks the breath from your lungs.
“ooh, you’re squeezin’ me real tight,” denki comments breathily, “i want you to cum for me, got that?”
“‘m so close,” you sob, tossing your ass back onto his cock. “wanna—wanna cum on your cock!”
this is it. this is the big moment where he makes you cum twice on camera and shows all his friends who can fuck you the best. his mouth feels dry and he’s unable to say much of anything to spur you on, talk you through it.
the noisy metal bedframe squeaks louder, the mattress sliding side to side from all the movement. denki doesn’t let up, biting down on his lip so hard he draws some blood while he fucks you through the exhaustion and pain in his sides.
at last, highly anticipated euphoria courses through your bodies at the same time, and his cock begins to twitch against your cervix. a whiny moan tears from his lips as he spills deep inside you, trembling hands grabbing at your waist for purchase. the vibrator maintains its high setting, not letting up even once—in the moment, it’s amazing to ride the waves as you cum, but as you’re coming down, you begin to shudder away from it.
“hah—ah, shit,” you cry, voice pitching. denki pulls out of you, eyes widening in delight as he looks over your sloppy cunt, drooling with a mixture of your cum and his own. glossy strings of white leak from your hole, sticking to your thighs every time you jerk away from the vibrator. “i-it’s too much.”
“oh, ‘m sorry babe,” the words roll off his tongue, each syllable oozing with faux sympathy. lucky for you, denki clicks the vibrator off and tosses it somewhere in the sheets. you don’t notice him moving to lay on his stomach, too busy trying to catch your breath. “she’s looking messy down there, hm?”
denki’s breath now fans over your wet pussy, his words low and sultry. you look over your shoulder in confusion, sweat shining on your forehead, bitten lips parting to ask a question, but he interrupts.
“i can clean her up for you.”
with that final statement, denki’s tongue presses flat against your slit and he moans, tasting the evidence of what seems to be his best porno yet. he slurps up the mess eagerly, holding you in place by your hips whenever you try to squirm away.
it’s bittersweet, slick pouring down his chin and making his skin shine while his own cum colors his lips white. you can’t do anything but whimper, looking back at him through hooded eyes that well with tears of overstimulation.
“i know, i know,” he mumbles into you when your body jolts, and you suck in a sharp breath. “i jus’ want to make sure you can’t move after this.”
a thorough pussy pounding and now this? there’s no way you’ll be able to stop shaking.
nimble fingers find your swollen clit and give it a light pinch, then gently stroke over it; he thinks the reaction it elicits from you is absolutely delicious—your expression crumbles and you rock your hips back against his face, dragging your cunt all over him.
he’s drunk on your scent and taste, taking as much of you in as he can. director yaoyorozu looks pleased as she whispers something to a member of the film crew, but you don’t even notice her through the sweltering haze of arousal. denki pushes the skirt further up your body, and the resounding sob that leaves your lips has him smiling against your cunt.
against your slit, his silky tongue paints peculiar patterns that your dizzy brain manages to register as the letters of his name. “fuck, ‘m gonna c-cum, ‘s coming—” your fingers tangle in his blonde hair, yanking him into your cunt as the high hits you, toes curling and teeth chattering together.
denki’s eyes roll back as you cum on his face, but then you’re trembling and moving away when the sensitivity finally sets in. your pussy is puffy and twitching, entirely spent for the day.
“woah,” he catches you with an arm when you drop flat on the bed, shuddering with the aftershocks of it all. “you good, baby?”
his lips press into your temple and you nod, huffing as you try to catch your breath. unconsciously, you start to cuddle into him, arms wrapping shakily around his torso.
it’s hard to remember where you are, stars swirling in your vision, but the sight of the microphone a few meters away snaps you back into professional mode. god, you haven’t been this dazed since your early days at shiketsu, where you’d been booking with some of the biggest men at the studio.
“i-i wish i didn’t have to, but,” you huff quietly, slowly raising from the bed to smooth out your dress and then look for your panties. you make a big show of bending over, giving the camera a great view of your quivering, dripping cunt. you swipe the underwear from the carpet with a relieved sigh, turning to face denki, who’s nibbling at his lower lip, already hard again. “i’m not finished cleaning the house yet. maybe i can make you some lunch later, when i’m done?”
the cheeky suggestion has an unintentional effect, denki’s cheeks darkening perfectly for the scene. he nods slowly, caught in a stupor. you blow a kiss toward him, stepping through the fake doorway and off the set.
after a beat of silence, director yaoyorozu calls for a cut. she hops off her tall chair and claps excitedly, while crew members rush to strip the bed and clean up the set. on jelly-like legs, you wobble over to her, standing beside denki with a small smile.
“excellent, the two of you,” she praises, ponytail swishing as she nods. “i’ll update both of your agents once we get this to the editors. hehe, my intuition tells me this’ll do very well.”
you thank her together, before parting your separate ways toward the dressing areas—at least you try to, but denki trails behind you quietly, cheeks still blazing pink.
“kaminari, is everything alright?” you step behind the shoji screen, the makeshift dressing room. without needing to be asked, his fingers find the zipper at your back and he loosens the maid dress for you.
“denki,” he corrects you with an embarrassed laugh, leaning his body against the shoji in an attempt to come across as relaxed. “i wanted to ask you about—”
the shoji screen topples over the moment his weight rests against it, smashing to the floor with a loud bang! you shriek, gathering the dress up around your chest as your co-star rushes to pick it up before anyone can look over. he is unsuccessful, much to your chagrin.
“oh my fucking—i’m so sorry, shit.”
“what is it you wanted to ask, denki?” you ask, embarrassed. it’s like you’re back to square one again, as if you weren’t just doing the nastiest things together less than ten minutes ago. he throws a hand behind his neck, awkwardly scratching the skin as he tries to calm his nerves.
“okay, look. me and a few friends of mine—UA stars—” he adds in that bit in case you need some extra convincing, “are hosting a little get together. i’m thinking maybe you can come and hang out for a little while? i can pick you up, if you—”
“that’s very nice of you.”
the interruption makes his heart drop straight into his ass, and he immediately looks down at his bare feet. but then you speak up, and he feels a spark of hope in his chest. after all, he did promise his friends that he’d introduce you to them.
“i live nearby, i moved apartments to be closer to the studio,” you admit, fingers loosening on the dress. “what time is it? i’d be willing to meet some other stars, get acquainted with everyone.”
denki looks at you, joy written all over his face. he flashes you a bright smile, nodding as he collects his thoughts. “everything starts at eight. i can just pick you up, ‘kay? here, i’ve gotta give you my number.”
you laugh, pushing him back. “i’ve gotta change first, the dress is really itchy. we’ll work it out when i’m done, sound good?”
he steps out from behind the shoji screen after nodding, gold eyes shining. before he can walk away toward his own makeshift dressing room, you stop him, smiling in a way that makes his heart flutter in his chest.
“hey, denki? by the way, i’m really looking forward to tonight.”
#★.SHOWTIME#mha smut#mha x reader#bnha smut#bnha x you#mha x you#bnha x reader#denki smut#denki x reader#denki kaminari#kaminari x reader#kaminari x you#smut#mha series#bnha series#mha headcanons#mha imagines#bnha imagines#denki headcanons#mha fanfiction#fanfic
282 notes
·
View notes
Text
To say that we’re beyond devastated and at a loss for words barely scratches the surface of what we’re feeling in the wake of the U.S. election, and it’s been a struggle to figure out what to say and how to speak with impassioned clarity when we're muddling through fury, heartbreak, and fear. So what we did was go back to our 2018 "thank you" post to all of our creators, bidders, signal boosters, and supporters to reflect on the beginnings of MTH and where we can go from here.
When Marvel Trumps Hate was created, it was made with the hope that our name would outlast Trump. We would fight to eradicate the hate that he and his ilk have sown and continue to spread and not only survive but also thrive in spite of it. That Trump would be re-elected six years later by a bigger, more emphatic margin, with the Republicans taking the House and Senate, is a damning indication of the state of the U.S. today and a result that is of extreme concern for everyone in the U.S. and around the world.
In many ways, it’s dispiriting that not only have a lot of things not changed since MTH was founded, but they’ve also become actively worse and more dysfunctional. But the difference between 2018 and 2024 is that while our anger hasn’t gone away, our rage is now accompanied with a better, more clear-eyed understanding of what’s broken and what actions need to be taken. We know what needs fixing—and what works.
What works is community. We may not be able to put our trust in certain systems and people in power, but we can lean on and take care of one another. We have to and we will. How do we know this? Because you’ve all shown that since the beginning. We were reminded of it when reading our 2018 post and thinking about the past six years of MTH. Like we said in our closing message at the end of this year’s auction, it’s easy to feel defeated, but time and time again, we’ve learned that the most important thing is to show up even if you’re unsure of what impact you can have as just one person. Every year, that’s what you all do.
Hope doesn’t come from nowhere. We have to create it ourselves. And while there are dark days ahead of us, what we have to hold onto as we march forward, what lights our way, is the knowledge that you’re doing just that. This year’s auction is proof of it.
This year, 180 "Marvel"-ous creators came forward to offer 293 auctions. They offered 360 unique platonic and romantic relationships and character-centric options (if we include "all ships/gen"-inclusive relationships, this number is even higher) across 40 universes within the Marvel multiverse.
This spirit of inclusion goes beyond trying to encompass as much of the Marvel fandom as possible and can be seen in our auction and charity results too. Every one of 293 auctions was bid on, and every one of our 30 supported charities received donations. As ever, we’re in awe of your commitment to supporting all our creators and charities.
As for the crowning achievement, the culmination of our efforts, the grand total we raised this year is…
Wow. This is the most we’ve ever raised in a single MTH auction (other than our Spiders Georg 2021 auction), and you shattered the record for the highest amount donated to a charity AGAIN, with $9,420.62 going to Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) too. This is all the more impressive considering it was accomplished by the second-to-smallest number of creators and auctions we had. It goes to show that no matter how small you are, you can pack a punch if you team up.
You can see the effort of our teamwork and the breakdown of the donations here (to enlarge the image, click here and hover to see the donation amount per charity).
We’ve also listed the amount raised per charity on our 2024 auction results page.
Creators, we couldn't have started this auction without you. Your commitment to the event, whether you return every year, made a surprise welcome return after a break, or are new and took what we know can be a scary jump into the event, moves us. It’s hard putting yourself out there, and we applaud you for it.
Bidders, your willingness to duke it out helps us raise as much money as we do. We’ve seen some wild things though what always astonishes us the most is that most donations are small ones including a lot of those crazily high winning bids—so many of them were the result of people pooling their five dollars together! This has been consistently the case since MTH began and is a testament to the ripple effect you can have if you’re part of something bigger than yourself.
We also owe our success to our amazing signal boosters. There can’t be an auction without any participants so to every fandom community Tumblr and Discord mod and every individual who shared our posts and encouraged their fandom friends to sign up and/or bid, thank you so much. Together, we reached hundreds of fantastic creators and bidders from all corners of the Marvel fandom, many of whom we didn't know and some who were hearing about us for the first time (and some who made the leap after sitting on the fence for years which is awesome).
Thank you all. We’re so touched by the massive number of people who donated above and beyond their pledged amount, creators who took on multiple auctions and offered multiple winner slots, and bidders who accepted their second-place wins with such eagerness. We also had people make donations in the spirit of MTH even though they didn’t win an auction, which was beyond generous. This year, we saw a record number of people doing that (even someone who was no longer part of the Marvel fandom but wanted to support what we were doing), especially in the wake of the U.S. election, and it made us very emotional to see such compassion.
From the bottom of our hearts, we thank you for helping us turn our seventh Marvel Trumps Hate auction into such a fantastic experience. We cherish every single message of love and support that we received and continue to receive on our Discord server and through DMs, Tumblr messages, emails, tweets, etc., and they as well as your generosity have buoyed us since September and the past two days in particular.
If you'd like to stay updated on all of the 2024 Marvel Trumps Hate fills, follow us and/or check out the "mth 2024" tag on our Tumblr. You’ll also be able to find works posted on AO3 in our Marvel Trumps Hate 2024 collection and links to fills in our Discord server, which you can join to brainstorm prompts, chat about fills, and find out about other fandom events.
And with that, MTH 2024 has officially come to a close. Thank you once again to everyone who volunteered their services, time, money, and platforms to spread the word. We hope that these results have bolstered your belief that you can make a difference as well as your determination to stand back up after being knocked down and defiantly say, “I can do this all day.”
Because we have to. For those of us who have suffered, for those of us who are in the most danger now, for those of us who have died at the hands of the evil and cruel in power and are no longer with us. For all of us who are still here. Because we all deserve to be here, safe, cared for, and alive.
So let’s get back up. Let’s get to work.
Yours in solidarity, Your 2024 MTH mods
289 notes
·
View notes
Text
。゚•┈꒰ა a butcher au - max verstappen ໒꒱┈• 。゚
max could've been a lot of things. but he was very good at cutting meat. those curious blue eyes didn't flinch at the sight of guts and blood. he simply worked and he in turn lived a happy life. in a way it got certain frustrations out, that he was never a good driver. when he craved up meat for sale at the small shop he worked at, in the apron and heavy gloves, he liked that no one recognized him. the weight of expectations didn't fall to heavily, instead he got thanks yous and no one praying for his downfall. he did have favorite customers though. the old nonnas who came in who were very particular, but always left heavy handfuls of change in the glass tip jar. the love sick man trying to win of a new woman of the week with his attempt at fine dining. and you.
you had lived out in the small town near the italian and french border for a few months now. an aunt of yours had died almost a year ago and you get saddled with the small property she owned. you took it as a chance to go somewhere else, having lived in the bustling city in another part of the world. so, the small town life was nice. and every week you'd come in and see max. he was always happy to see you. he'd often say to you, "i think i have something better in the back." before he flashed you a smile and headed to find a better cut.
he liked you, there a fondness he carried for you. you were just very polite and sweet. your grasp on both italian and french was a little rusty, but max was helpful as he wrapped up your order and told you to have a nice day. over the months you became comfortably familiar.
while max was comfortable at a distance, he was surprised when he heard your voice from the front. he looked down at himself, elbow deep in an animal all morning... staining the front of the apron and the gloves he wore. there was even specs who knew what on his upper forearms. "shit." he sighed to himself. he knew that his job required getting a little dirty, but he didn't want the beautiful woman who came in every week to see him look like a serial killer. he quickly took off the apron and gloves (even attempting to pick the dried blood off his arms) before he went to see you. you were at the front with other groceries in hand. you were just in yesterday. he looked at you with a little confusion. and you simply smiled. you placed two sunflowers wrapped in last weeks newspaper on the counter near the cash register.
you couldn't look him in the eyes when you asked him, "i couldn't wait for you to make the first mood, max. but... would you like to have dinner with me?"
max picked up the flowers, they looked beautiful even in the somewhat bad lighting of the butcher shop. he looked to you, your smile had dropped and you looked nervous. while max was wrapped up in receiving flowers and your request, he realized he hadn't said anything. he put the flowers down and took you by the hands across the counter and said, "yes! of course!"
you ended up having dinner with max at your home a few nights later. you two had been texting over the course of those days. and while he found himself comfortable messaging you. being in your home felt nerve wracking, he hadn't been on a date since he left his home town after he turned eighteen. but, you looked beautiful in the kitchen. making sure that everything was perfect for dinner. occasionally his eyes would scan over your form as you worked in the kitchen. you seemed to natural there. the way you prepared the sausages in the pan (the ones he sold you days prior) made max feel more at ease. there was a joke there about you knowing how to prepare meats. while most of the time he simply ate vegetables when he got home, after being around cut up animals for hours on end made him want to eat a stalk of celery by the time he got home. but to see someone so beautiful work a kitchen marvelously and the end result being something so beautiful.
"i made these rolls earlier today." you said as you brought the bowl with some on there, "i'm not the best baker ever. i'm pretty sure i can't compete with the place a few doors down from you." you laughed as you turned back to around to grab the pot of stew that you finished.
max eyed you behind as you walked away and was already in love.
you returned with dinner in hand, oven mitts protecting your hands from the hot surface of the pot. it smelled good. it smelt like home. and it made max feel warm all over as if his body wasn't heated from the warm summer night. you smiled when you sat across from him then clinked your wine glass with his, "to the first date in a long time." and max took a sip, he got lost in your eyes for a moment. and there was little room for dessert when you pulled max into the bedroom. the bed frame creaked as he was almost pushed onto it. you stood in front of him and he wrapped his strong arms around you then kissed at your clothed middle.
the clothes came off and he saw you eye his chest for a moment. he almost wanted to recoil a little from the attention. he wasn't built like a statue. he was strong for years of lifting things around the shop and walking to and from home every morning. but before he could say anything or move, you ran your hands down his chest. feeling his soft skin under your palms then said, "holy shit, this is what's been hiding under those aprons you wear." he looked away for a moment felt heat in his cheeks before you pulled him by his chin into a heated kiss.
you got max onto your back and straddled his waist. you watched him swallow before you kissed him along the neck and collarbones. your rubbed yourself up against his abdomen and shuddered from the stimulation of your clit. max clutched onto the covers under him and you went in for another searing kiss. it was perfect, you were perfect. your movements were slow, feeling him up against you. it was teasing for both of you until you got yourself seated on his cock. which made him tense up and feel a flare of his across his body. your hands on his strong shoulders for leverage as you moved up and down. max shuddered and his swallowed hard, "shit. please." he said as you moved against him. you replied, "you feel so good. i'm surprised no one else has tried to pick you up in town." you giggled, the heat in your cheeks was heavy. he simply held onto your hips and started to work alongside you, letting the pleasure bubble up, "i get nonnas and their granddaughters visiting from overseas. usually they are too scared to talk to me. or i'm too scared to talk to them. they see the blood or the animal in the back and get scared." maybe it wasn't polite to talk about work while he was fucking you, but you didn't seem to complain. he found that you didn't flinch at how the sausages were made in the shop. he clutched further onto your soft hips. his hands were used daily for taking apart the meats that arrived. he was usually in the back carving like he was making a masterpiece. the anatomy of the beast burned into his head. but while he held you, his touch was full of tenderness.
he wasn't trying to carve himself into your skin, he wanted to make you feel good. he wanted to be good in your world, and as sweet moans left your lips he knew that he was doing just that. he looked up at you with those blue eyes, the pupils a little wider from the heat in his body. the euphoria that was a drum in his chest as he continued to meet your pace. he then added, "plus, now i have no reason to talk to them. not when i have you." you blushed a little bit, looking away for a moment as he did earlier before you leaned in and kissed him on the lips. your hands splayed across his chest as you worked along his cock. up and down as a fire burned in your belly.
you two kissed once more as you pace started to stagger. you felt the heat become fuel in your blood as you worked his cock. he felt like a dream, an utter euphoria that you couldn't put into words. you had been with others before. but in the low light of the home you now owned with a man you met by chance while living in this small town. there was a certain niceness to it. a comfort you longed for while stuck on packed buses or falling asleep during meetings on a year prior. in the warm heat of the summer, you felt good as you moved against him. so long tinder, so long bumble, you met the man of your dreams while he was covered in blood, whose hands worked diligently every day to deliver the finest cuts of meat. not only to you but to large portions of the town. maybe it was love right off the bat, regardless you felt a warmth in your chest for him.
you kissed once more as you both loss the rhythm, soon you finished with a moan against his lips and he followed soon after. he clutched onto your hips tightly as you continued to thrust on top of him. eventually the pleasure flooded your brain and you slowed down to a stop. the kiss was broken and you both panted heavily. max cupped your face for a moment ans said something you couldn't quite pick up, but you responded with, "right back at ya." between heavy pants. and max knew it was love.
you soon laid in bed with the butcher, curled up against him. both feeling the after shivers of climax. you felt comfortable in the crook of his shoulder and your face up against his softer chest. you could tell he was strong, but wasn't opposed to homemade cooking.
he lazily took your hand in his other one and kissed across the knuckle. he sighed against your fingers, rubbing them up against his cheek soon after, "if this is a ploy to get a discount
you looked at him and chuckled, "damn, my plan is ruined."
he chuckled, "i'll need a few more homemade meals before i can do that. don't want the little nonnas to think they can seduce me into better prices." then kissed your hands once more.
you sighed and pressed further into him, feeling a sense of comfort in his arms, "next time i'll bring more than flowers."
he simply laughed, but in the back of his mind he thought, don't bring me a ring. that's my job. and maybe it was a little bit too soon to jump to that next step. but, as he held you in his arms it felt like a perfect piece. he wouldn't mind giving you discounts, of course if you were married then it would be free. but as he kissed the top of your head and heard your breathing level out and eventually fall asleep, it felt nice. it felt like home.
#bunny writes#butcher au#reader insert#formula one imagine#formula 1#formula one smut#formula one fanfiction#f1 smut#formula 1 fic#formula one#formula 1 rpf#formula 1 fanfic#f1 rpf#f1 x reader#f1#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen smut#max smut#mv33 drabble#mv33 x reader#mv33#mv1 smut#mv1 x reader#mv1#mv1 imagine#mv1 fic
260 notes
·
View notes
Text
As a queer woman in a red state, I needed to see this today. I still love my state. This is my home. Where I was raised, where I went to school, where my wife and I were married, where I work, where we bought our house, where we started our little farm, where my baby will be born, where my friends are. Where my entire communkty and safety net is. I'm so happy here. I love my life here.
Please stop saying "fuck red states."
My dad is one of the most die hard Republicans I know. He voted for Trump and yes, it breaks my heart. It makes me sick and at time makes me feel unloved. And I have to remember this is the man who basically took a bow of silence about me coming out for the first year. THAT man cried happy tears and gave the most moving speech at my wedding. He adores my wife and calls her is daughter now. THAT man's beliefs have changed in what for him is a hugely significant way. It's not enough YET but he reminds me that a lot of people who voted for Trump DO care, they just don't get it. Unfortunately we'll all learn the hard way now but it also means there are allies within the enemy, they just don't know it yet.
Please stop saying "fuck red states."
My in-laws have been so die hard Republican their entire lives and voted for Harris this year. Willing to get into loud family arguments and strain family relations over it. It's a change I had given up hoping to see and yet, it finally happened this year.
Please stop saying "fuck red states."
My tiny town is largely made up of migrant workers. Every business here is bilingual. Including the grocery stores, post office, and city hall. This town wouldn't exist without migrant workers. No one knows more about how much our farming communities NEED migrant workers more than the tiny farm towns in red states. I promise you, in my state, it's the Republicans in the cities here that are pushing for mass deportation, not the farmers.
Please stop saying "fuck red states."
I voted for one republican this year. Yep. An Asian American woman who grew up on a potato farm, married into the family of another potato farmer, ran on a campaign to halt rent inflation, allocate more state funding to education and foster care, and supported controversial decisions in the past to protect the environment. She was an incumbent and she won. She's playing the long game of knowing which party she can win running under in her home state and she's making a damn big difference in her little district.
Please stop saying "fuck red states."
There are young queer closeted kids here. I was one of them. I was voting and protesting for gay rights before there were any and I'll fucking do it again if I have to. Because over 1/4 people here DID vote for Harris and every single one of us have to stay and fight and be visible for the next generation of scared closeted queer kids because if we all left for blue states, who would be left to fight for them?
Please stop saying "fuck you" to the people I love and the home I've built. The future I see slowly building here can still happen. I still have hope. But if those fighting the good fight in red states give up now, if they say too say "fuck red states," then we really will have lost that future.
I love you everyone in red states right now.
I love you everyone who has family that is/will celebrate a Trump victory in your state.
I love you everyone surrounded by loved ones actively voting against your rights.
If you voted, you for Kamala, you did everything you could and you should be proud.
All of your frustration and anger is justified, understandable, and fair.
I’m sending you all love and peace.
8K notes
·
View notes
Text
whichever way [woosan x reader] epilogue
pairing: woosan x f reader
rating: 18+
genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, FWB to QPR
ch. summary: together you make a new start.
wc: 2.6k
ch. warnings: no explicit content but there is some conversation about sex, i teared up while writing this; does that count as a warning?
a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.
a/n²: what a fucking time we live in. take good care ♡
masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, epilogue
“I think these are the last ones,” Wooyoung says, patting the stack of boxes next to him. “Did we get everything from your side?”
“Yeah, we emptied that out yesterday,” you say. “This… this is it.”
San hums thoughtfully, putting an arm around each of you. “End of an era isn’t it?”
The three of you stand by the doorway to the living area, looking over an empty, forlorn apartment.
Depressingly bare walls, furniture replaced by nostalgia. It doesn’t even look like anyone ever stayed here at all. The only concrete proof of your life here is the kitchen cabinet’s crooked door, busted when San hit his head so hard you’d worried he fractured his skull.
Even now, face to face with the empty room, it feels surreal to leave it all behind. No more paper-thin walls, no clumsily bumping into each other in the cramped kitchenette, no more sneaking through the building’s hallway in the early mornings or late nights.
Suddenly every small inconvenience is filtered through the rose-coloured lens of sentimentality, like they’re something to be treasured. Maybe they are. The little imperfections that brought texture to the flavourful sweetness of everything good.
All three of you take a moment, keenly aware you’re saying goodbye to the space where you collided into them; collided, and then intertwined. There’s a lot here to be grateful for.
Wooyoung is the one to break the spell. He nods his head with a big sigh, like he's bracing himself. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” you say, matching his sigh. “Just one more thing left to do here, right?”
San and Wooyoung divide the boxes between them; you are already holding a large flower bouquet. It’s time for your final goodbye in this building.
Together, you take the elevator down one floor, then walk over to the apartment placed directly underneath yours. You ring the doorbell, and it does not take long before Mrs Yoon opens the door.
“Oh? Oh! It’s you kids!” The crinkles in her face deepen into a wide smile, and she curiously eyes the boxes. “Today is the big day then, hm?”
San bows his head politely. “We’re officially moved out, yes,” he says, a tinge of red across his cheeks. “Um. Sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused.”
“Nonsense,” she scolds. “No trouble at all, I’m sad to see you go. It’ll be so quiet around here without you!”
The redness on San’s face intensifies but Wooyoung just giggles, immune to Mrs Yoon’s light teasing. “Still, we didn’t want to go without getting you a little something,” Wooyoung says, “a thank you for putting up with us!”
“Ahh, Wooyoungie, you shouldn’t have!” Mrs Yoon coos adoringly over him like he’s her favourite grandson, lovingly pinching his cheeks. She lets out a small gasp of surprise when you hand the flowers over to her. “These are for me? Really?”
“Really,” you say. “It’s the least we could do!”
The bouquet looks comically huge in her tiny arms, almost drowning her in camellias and hydrangeas; but Mrs Yoon just beams with delight, taking a deep whiff of the sweet aromas. Even with the flowers, she still manages to reach for your cheek, patting it in gratitude.
“Wishing you and your friends all the best in your new home, sweetie,” she says warmly. “Feel free to drop by if you’re ever back in the neighbourhood.”
“We will, Mrs Yoon,” you promise, a pleasant glow in your chest at the word ‘friends’. “Thank you for looking out for us.”
The three of you part ways with Mrs Yoon, regretfully declining an invitation to come inside for a cup of tea. Your new home waits for you.
The new apartment is not too far from the old place, just a short ride away. Wooyoung is driving the car that Yunho was gracious enough to lend you, and you’re next to him in the front seat, his hand resting casually on your thigh. San is behind you, leaned forward with his chin on the backrest while he sweetly hums along to some romantic pop-song on the radio.
You bask in the warm glow of sunlight filtering through the window, smiling at San’s smooth voice while your hand rests on top of Wooyoung’s. It’s easy, it’s comfortable. Outside the car, your surroundings slowly grow less and less familiar, though you know that’ll come with time. You look forward to it.
Finally you reach the compex’s underground parking lot where Wooyoung neatly parks Yunho’s car. You unload the boxes, and find the elevators after a brief moment of disorientation.
You’re not on the top floor this time, but this building is taller so you’re still up higher than before. Finally you exit the elevator, and nostalgia is pushed back in favour of excitement as you walk over to your front door. One single door, for all three of you.
(Of course, you practically lived together already anyway, but it still feels different like this. More solid. Words and promises of long-term commitment transformed into tangible fact.)
You type in the freshly memorised code into the keypad, and the door opens.
The apartment is bigger and nicer than your old place; it’d be far too expensive for you alone, but that’s the practical benefit of splitting rent three ways. It’s still a mess, of course, unpacked boxes all over the place, but already you can see glimpses what it’s going to be, the home you’ll make out of this cluttered chaos.
Already there’s a small bustle of friends moving around the place, helping you to settle in. Even Hongjoong took time off, standing in the (significantly larger) kitchenette with a puzzled expression as he goes through one of the boxes.
You make a beeline towards him, and Hongjoong grins as you approach, making a show of groaning in annoyance when you lay a bear-hug on him.
“What kind of highbrow culinary types did you move in with? I don’t even know what half of these are,” he sighs, toying with a basic garlic press as he glances at the wide array of appliances strewn on the kitchen island. “Makes me feel like I’m not adulting right.”
“It’s alright, not all of us can be kitchen princesses. That’s Wooyoung’s purview,” you joke.
Hongjoong snorts. “Is that your way of saying you also don’t know what half of these are?”
“Pff, don’t lump me in with you. I know at least three quarters of them.”
“Wow, impressive! Let me know when you earn your first Michelin Star.”
He grins when you playfully elbow him in the side, and together you unpack the rest of the box, enjoying the bustle of activity around you.
A few people are walking back and forth, sorting out boxes and putting them in the right place. Seonghwa and Yeosang have taken up most of the floorspace to assemble a large bookcase, looking somewhat bamboozled by the instructions. San is setting out Byeol’s things already, even though she’ll stay at his sister’s as a guest until you’re all settled in.
He wrestles with putting her climbing tree back together when a sudden flash of light distracts him; Wooyoung has grabbed his camera. To do a little documenting of the event, he claims.
“Wooyoung-ssi,” Yeosang says pointedly, “aren’t you just avoiding having to do any real work?”
“Come on, it’s important to save some memories of today!” Wooyoung says enthusiastically, utterly undeterred by his oldest friend’s scepticism. Instead he snaps a quick shot of Yeosang instead, who instantly shields his face. This only escalates into Wooyoung trying to take a selfie with Yeosang, which escalates into him trying to land a smooch on Yeosang’s cheek.
You watch their shenanigans with a wide, bright smile, and Hongjoong watches you with a thoughtful expression in turn.
“So…” he says in a slow drawl. “What was that you once told me? That you got nothing ‘involved’ going on with these guys?”
Heat flares up on your face. “Shut up,” you mumble, embarrassed at the reminder of how deeply in denial you used to be. Let’s face it; San and Wooyoung had firmly pulled you into their orbit from the very start.
Hongjoong chuckles and pats your shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m just glad you were right about the most important thing.”
You give him a confused look. “?”
His eyes soften, a crooked smile on his face. “That I didn’t have to worry about you.”
You swallow thickly, a sudden lump in your throat at his sincerity. “Yeah? Well don’t think that means you’re off the hook for our irregularly scheduled videocalls,” you joke awkwardly, prodding him in the side again. “It’s not like the guys replaced you or something. I still want my bestie too.”
“Good!” he chuckles. “Anyway, they couldn’t if they tried. I’m pretty irreplaceable.”
“Oh my god, shut up,” you laugh, whapping him on the shoulder.
You try to continue unpacking the kitchen supplies; but you soon get distracted when Yunho struggles to carry a gigantic potted plant, and you realise he’s about to set it down in the living area.
“Yunho wait, hang on! That goes outside!”
You abandon Hongjoong to guide Yunho out to the modestly sized balcony.
“Here, here,” you usher him to a corner, where the plant will provide some nice shade and privacy.
Yunho sighs in relief when he can set the heavy pot down, stretching his back with a low groan as he stands upright again. He looks around curiously, looking around the balcony. It’s not much, with just some old garden furniture that Wooyoung’s parents ‘donated’ to you, but the plant makes a good start to cosy it up properly.
“Huh. Hadn’t been out here yet,” he says, putting his hands on the metal railing to lean forward and take in the view. “It’s nice.”
Your eyes get momentarily distracted by how his long fingers curl around the handrail, but then you tear your gaze away and look out over the neighbourhood together. It’s mostly other apartment complexes, but there’s a big park with plenty of greenery and a pond nearby too, next to a busy kids’ playground.
“Yeah,” you agree with a wistful smile. “Really nice.”
You glance at Yunho again. All the initial awkwardness between you has faded by now; San, Wooyoung and him were eager to make up for lost time, so he’s been around quite a bit. You don’t mind. You like Yunho.
(Not just because he has distracting hands. He’s every bit as funny and dependable as your first impression led you to believe. It didn’t take long for you to grow just as fond of Yunho as the guys are.)
“And if you think about it, I got you to thank for it all!” you joke, grinning at Yunho. “Really, if you hadn’t played cupid, I wouldn’t have ended up here.”
Yunho blinks in confusion. “Cupid?”
“Yeah? You set San and Wooyoung up, right? San told me you played matchmaker.”
“……Huh. That is what San thinks I was doing?” He lets out an awkward, breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his head.
“You weren’t?” You frown at Yunho. “But you introduced them, right?”
“Y-Yeah, but— Never mind,” he says, his ears going red. “It’s not important.”
You give him a stubborn look. “Um. No. No, you can’t leave me hanging there. What’s not important?”
Yunho sees the look in your eyes, and after a long moment he gives a slow nod and straightens up. He glances at the open balcony door, but nobody inside is paying you any particular mind.
He leans forward, conspiratorially, dropping his voice low. The secrecy is causing your heart to bump faster in your chest; what the hell happened?
“Okay so, uh. No, I didn’t set them up,” Yunho says. “Sure, I’m really happy that it worked out so well for them, but… no, I just meant to test the waters for a bit, to see if things clicked between us, and then… I could see if they were interest in doing… other stuff together.”
“Stuff?” you ask — but the redness of Yunho’s ears deepens, and a lightbulb turns on in your head. “Wait,” you hiss, lowering your own voice as you lean even closer to him. “You introduced them to have a threesome? And they started dating instead??”
“Basically, yeah!” he chuckles awkwardly. “And really, it’s no big deal, I’m happy to see my friends happy. I saw the way they hit it off, figured I’d give them some space to figure things out. Thought I could always pitch the idea later — well, until Wooyoung told me San wanted to be monogamous.”
“Oh god,” you say, growing more and more aghast as your brain works overtime, linking up all the dots Yunho is throwing at you. “And then San asked you for advice about me.”
“Yeah, I’ll admit it — that one stung!” he laughs, about five percent pained. The last lingering hints of a grudge still holding on.
“I bet it did, fuck I’m so sorry—”
“Not your fault,” Yunho says, patting your shoulder with a reassuring smile.
You puff out a flustered burst of air, and shake off your embarrassment. Yeah, he’s right. This isn’t your fault. “…Is it weird that I’m kind of offended on your behalf?” you say with an awkward grin (god this is all so awkward). “Like, I know San and Wooyoung can be a bit oblivious, especially when they get stuck in each other’s little lovestruck tunnel vision, but seriously? They never realised??”
“Eh,” Yunho shrugs. “It’s on me too, I misjudged. Clearly shouldn’t have taken the subtle approach.”
You snort. “Okay yeah, maybe it’s a little on you too. The subtle approach? For those two?”
“Hey! Whatcha talking about?” San says out of nowhere, poking his head around the doorway like a devil who has belatedly realised someone spoke of him. “Thought I heard my name!”
You freeze instantly and fumble for an answer. “Uuhhhhhhh…”
Wooyoung’s head pokes out from behind San’s broad shoulders. “Hm? Are you guys gossiping about us?”
“Umm…………”
But Yunho just lets out a dry chuckle, unfazed by the interruption. “Yeah, actually,” he says with an easygoing smile. “I was just telling her that I never meant to play matchmaker for you two.”
“You weren’t?” San asks in surprise. “I thought…”
“I know,” Yunho interrupts him, not unkindly. “But no, I was trying to set us for a threesome.”
A deep, deep silence falls that strikes even Wooyoung.
He’s just staring at Yunho wide-eyed, the gears in his head ground to a complete halt. San has gone full crimson in the cheeks, putting Yunho’s faintly red ears to shame.
“What?” Yunho laughs when he sees your surprised face. “You said it yourself; no room for subtlety with these two. It was bound to come out sometime anyway. No time like the present.”
“You know what? Fair,” you say, relaxing back into a laugh of your own.
“W-wait, you what??” San finally stammers out.
Yunho casually leans his side against the balcony railing, shrugging at San. “Is it really that big a surprise, coming from me?”
Wooyoung’s shock has slowly morphed into a thoughtful expression as the gears in his head come back into motion. Keen interest shines in his eyes as he looks back-and-forth from San’s flustered blush to you and Yunho, grinning at each other.
“So uh,” Wooyoung says, mischief creeping into the curve of his crooked smile, “…is having sex together still on the table?”
final notes: yes, i am planning to do a one-shot sequel lol. you are getting that yunwoosan foursome smut scene <3 originally it was part of the epilogue, but i decided it works better as its own, separate thing
but this still is the end of the main series, the story of Woosan & reader coming together, and i am a big ball of emotion over it asdkjdsajk. thankyou for reading my fic, and for all the incredibly kind words i’ve received; this was a very special, personal project to me, and i hope it gave you some good times ♡
#igby’s writing#ateez smut#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez fic#woosan smut#woosan x reader#san smut#san x reader#wooyoung smut#wooyoung x reader#ateez hard hours#kpop smut#ateez scenarios#san imagines#wooyoung imagines#san scenarios#wooyoung scenarios
237 notes
·
View notes
Text
texting Stan and Ford headcanons
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ Stan Pines
✧ Stan is the kinda guy who thinks emojis are a scam, but somehow, he figured out how to use the "thumbs up" and "money bag" emoji. so, expect a lot of those in your chats.
✧ his text tone is rough, a little misspelled, typed like he's yelling even when he isn’t. Half of his texts are in all caps, and he absolutely does not care about grammar. but he gets the point across, always.
✧ you’re getting messages at 3 am about some ‘brilliant’ scheme to make a quick buck. he’ll send, “LISTEN, doll, what if we made... GIANT… glitter-filled eggs for easter? Tourists'll go NUTS." you reply, half-asleep, with “Stan, ily but go to bed." and all you get back is a “🤬 YOU GOTTA THINK BIGGER!”
✧ Stan sends those weird chain messages he swears are from some “hotshot businessman” that’ll make you rich in a week. and when you don’t respond immediately, you get a: “Fine, Miss Doubtful, see you when I’m rolling in gold.”
✧ there are whole days where he just floods your phone with random, blurry photos of some new Mystery Shack "artifact" he found. It’s usually junk he picked up at a garage sale, like a “haunted” ashtray or some knock-off painting that’s “probably ancient.”
✧ If he’s feeling sappy (and tipsy): you might get a rare “thinking bout you, sweet thing” at 2 am. but if you try to call him on it the next day, he’ll just be like “Didn’t say that. You’re makin’ stuff up.”
✧ when he’s really riled up about something, though? then his messages are just. . . a stream of caps-lock curses, mixed with misspelled attempts to describe whatever nonsense he just got himself into. you just sit back and let him rant; he’ll cool off eventually.
✧ and the voice messages are something else. they sound like he’s talking through a fan half the time. one minute, he’s rambling about how tourists are “the dumbest suckers on the planet” and the next, he’s ranting about how “bigfoot definitely broke into the shack last night!"
types of messages Stan texts:
"So… whatcha wearin’? 😏"
“Hey doll, I just found a penny on the ground! Maybe today’s my lucky day… hint hint ;)"
"I’d say somethin’ romantic, but I think my brain just shorted out. You’re a little too cute for a guy like me."
"Just tried that new café downtown. Ordered coffee… tastes like they filtered it through someone’s laundry. You’d hate it. Wanna come mock it with me?"
"Not gonna lie, I miss that face of yours. So what’re we doin’ about it, huh?"
“Again missin’ that cute little smile of yours… maybe you could send me a pic to remind me?”
"Wanna help me scam the tourists today? I’ll split the loot with ya… maybe ;)”
"You wouldn’t believe what I caught Ford muttering in his sleep. Man’s like a walking encyclopedia, even when he’s unconscious."
“Got any plans later? Thought maybe we could… y’know… not have plans together."
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ Ford Pines
✧ hehehehe he’s like an old-school emailer who’s just now getting the hang of messaging apps. texts in complete sentences, full punctuation, like he’s drafting a dissertation.
✧ He sends you whole paragraphs at random hours, talking about some discovery he’s made, like he’s reporting directly to NASA. you’re like, “Ford, it's just a weird-looking squirrel." and he's already typing another essay about its "possible interdimensional origins."
✧ once in a while, he’ll send you a message that says, “Are you awake?” at, like 3 am followed by a string of thoughtful yet completely bonkers hypotheses. you find it cute, though, his mind never stops, not even for a second.
✧ If he’s feeling bold, you might even get a “hypothetical” confession out of him: “Hypothetically, if one were to develop... strong emotional attachment to a certain person... how would one proceed?" You tease him about it the next day, and he gets flustered, “It was purely scientific curiosity."
✧ Ford isn’t big on emojis, but he likes the brain and alien ones, using them poetically. he’ll sign off texts with a single brain emoji, like it’s his version of a little goodbye wave.
✧ on really rare occasions, he’ll send a voice message. they’re always way too long, and it’s usually him whispering so he doesn’t wake Stan up. he goes on about cosmic rays or “gravity anomalies,” his voice dropping lower when he gets excited. you live for those moments
✧ and if he ever texts you a “good night,” you just know he’s been up thinking about it for hours, trying to figure out if it’s “appropriate.”
types of messages Ford texts:
“It’s been approximately 3 hours, 12 minutes, and 23 seconds since our last conversation… not that I’m counting or anything. Just… miss you."
sends a meme about science nerds “Us. But mostly me.”
“My hands ache from writing… though perhaps if it were writing about you, I wouldn’t mind.”
“Do you think about me too, or am I the only one utterly ruined by this… whatever this is?”
“I’ve been thinking about that book you lent me... 🤔 It’s honestly so much more interesting than I expected, thank you for recommending it."
"I don’t know how to work this... But I managed to send a meme! It’s not the worst thing I’ve done, I suppose?
“I did it. I fixed the telescope. Finally. Now we can actually look at the stars like we’ve talked about. :)"
"I hope you’re feeling okay today. I noticed you seemed a little stressed the other day. Don’t forget to take care of yourself. :) It’s important."
"If I could rearrange the periodic table, I’d put U and I together. :( Sorry, nerdy joke... :’D)”
ps - I CANT THEYRE SO CUTE BOTH I WANT TO SMASH THEM AGAINST THE WALL
lmao if someone wants, i can write some spicy types of chatting with them :)))
#gravity falls x reader#gravity falls x you#x reader#gravity falls#gravity falls smut#ford pines x reader#ford pines smut#stan pines smut#stan pines x reader#stan pines x oc#stan pines x you#ford pines x you#stanford pines x you#stanford pines x reader#gravity falls headcanons
191 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! I’ve got a rq but it’s kind of elaborate and might be sensitive to u so if u don’t wanna do it that’s fine!
But can I have some hcs of Deuce, Jack, Leona, Vil, Epel, Malleus, Silver, and Lilia with a reader who lived with a single parent all their life (whom they were very close with) who passed away not long before they came to TW, but they never said anything about it. So as a way to grieve they wear their parent’s shirts/jackets, accessories and fragrances because they’re all they have of said parent.
Vil sees that some of their clothes doesn’t quite fit their size or style, Jack and Leona can smell a very faint lingering scent of another on their shirts, Deuce notices them playing with their necklace frequently, etc.
I Still Feel You, I Still See You, I Still Hear You
Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, sad things, dead parents ig, platonic-ish, short
A/N: No need to be considerate nonnie my parents are fine haha. Finished this while trying to review for my accounting quiz tomorrow...uh, later this afternoon...?
Masterlist
Deuce might be a little...denser, regarding the situation.
However, he's not that tactless.
Ahaha he so is
Forgive him, he always means well. That sentence doesn't make it any better when he brings up the necklace you can never seem to stop fiddling with.
"My mom gave it to me before she died."
Mmh baby gets shut up realll quick.
Do you...want to share his mom?
Pardon the wording. He really means well.
So do you want to come home with him for the holidays?
Jack has a good sense of smell, so it's a bit jarring when the usual scent you have on you is replaced by a musky sort of cologne that you were unlikely to ever wear.
He asks an innocent question.
You give an innocent answer.
"It was my dad's cologne. It's his death anniversary today."
He pats your shoulder to express his condolences.
He doesn't usually do this but, do you want ice cream? His treat.
If you insist really hard, he'll let you cuddle his tail as an apology for his "insensitive" question (it wasn't really but ok)
Leona is very emotionally and socially sensitive, so he'll have a few guesses in mind already.
Your leather jacket always smells faintly of smoke.
He doesn't ask about it. Actively wards off people who makes comments about it, too.
You'll be the one to bring it up when you trust him enough.
"It was my dad's. The only thing salvaged from the fire."
Awkward.
Tsk, you're so troublesome.
Pulls you under his blanket for lots of grumpy cuddles.
He's not good with sappy comforting stuff, so you'll have to make do with his presence. He'll sit by you and listen, 'kay?
Vil is a lot of things, but he's not inconsiderate, and he's certainly not stupid.
When he first sees you wearing that ungodly sweater, soft and knitted and in such a drab color that it completely washed you out, he does get a little curious.
You have better fashion sense than that, potato.
But he notices the way you seem to sink into the fabric, eyes dazed and looking out into the distance.
"It was my mom's."
Oh. Alright.
Now he's a bit embarrassed.
Hm, maybe if you pair the sweatshirt with these pants... and do your hair like this...
You can mourn and look gorgeous while doing it, darling.
Still, he won't force anything if you don't want to.
Epel thinks the ring on your finger is really neat. He's not really one for girly things, but to be honest, he does find it a little bit cute.
Not that...he likes cute things...
Anyway, where did you get it from? Gee, you sure do stare at it a lot.
"My mom left it for me when she died."
Grim topic, but alright.
Likely the type to try and steer the conversation away to some other topic after apologizing for bringing it up.
Says your eyes are pretty. Accidentally.
He'll blush and deny it and apologize for saying weird things.
Idia accidentally snagged your watch on some cable wires while you were in the bathroom.
Total whoops. No problem, he got it out ez
Ugh, why are you panicking, dude? The watch is fine, y'know?
"Sorry, it's just, it's the last thing I have of my dad."
Okaaaay he'll go die in a ditch now tnx
He definitely feels like crap. Not to mention, he's also someone who lost someone super important to him, who was his world and best friend.
Buries himself in his bed and dies.
Silver isn't one to pry, so at normal times, he's unlikely to mention anything about your rather gaudy earrings that don't seem to fit your persona.
It's your choice, anyway. He won't judge.
Still, he has to mention something about it when it catches onto a tablecloth you were napping on. (he won't judge your napping choices either don't worry)
"Is it broken?! No, it was my mom's, I can't..."
He pauses a little bit and helps you untangle it from the tablecloth.
Assures you it's not broken.
He won't ask unless you want him to.
Lilia is all too aware of loss and everything it entails. Call it intuition, or maybe something connected to his UM.
He knows that keychain of yours has a story behind it.
Some punks snatch it off your bag as a prank when you're not looking, and Lilia gets some exercise.
"Thank you so much! It's something my dad gave before..."
There's no need, really.
Everyone has a story, and he won't pry into yours.
Taglist:
@yummyyummyinmytumny @fsh1 @lemon-koii
#disney twst#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland#gender neutral reader#x reader#twst x reader#lilia vanrouge#lilia vanrouge x reader#lilia x reader#silver vanrouge#silver x reader#idia shroud x reader#idia shroud#idia x reader#epel felmier x reader#epel felmier#epel x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#vil x reader#vil schoenheit#leona kingscholar x reader#leona kingscholar#leona x reader#jack howl x reader#jack x reader#jack howl#deuce spade x reader#deuce x reader#deuce spade
229 notes
·
View notes
Text
Welcome, everyone, to my TED Talk. Today, we're diving into my humble top 3 most striking declarations of love from Dean to Sam so far.
3. Croatoan. Dean wanted Sam to infect him with the Croatoan virus so they could die together. I bet that if the doctor hadn’t come back two seconds later to free them, Dean would’ve cut himself on purpose and infected himself so that Sam wouldn’t have to do it once he lost control. At that point, all that was missing was George Michael’s Careless Whisper in the background, and they might as well have ended the series right there.
2. The siren. In the show, the siren transforms into the person you desire most in the world. For Dean, that person isn’t a lover, a girlfriend, or a wife—it’s a version of Sam who loves him more than he believes the real Sam does, and who’s as devoted to him as he is to Sam. In fact, what Dean wants the most is to be loved by his baby brother. I can't believe this is actually a canon event.
1. Dean’s heaven. When he gets to heaven in season 5, he relives the memory of when he and Sam shot off fireworks for the 4th of July. This moment gives us a glimpse into his deepest feelings:
Dean has always felt this way about Sam.
His affection hasn’t changed over the years—from the time that memory took place to his arrival in heaven, despite all they’ve been through: demon blood, fights, trying to kill and save each other repeatedly. What he felt back then as a kid is exactly what he feels now as an adult, except now it comes with the bittersweet nostalgia of knowing it’ll never come back.
Dean’s idea of heaven doesn’t center on his own happiness—it’s about Sam’s. And it’s even better if he is the reason Sam is happy.
And if that’s not enough, Dean openly admits how painful it is to realize that he doesn’t even appear in Sam’s heaven. I think we can safely call this moment a not-as-subtle-as-dean-thinks declaration of love and devotion. Interestingly, in that episode, we see a string of Sam’s memories but only one of Dean’s—and Sam doesn’t even witness it. It really makes you wonder what other memories might make up Dean’s heaven…
One more thing: that scene reminds me of the one in Edward Scissorhands where Winona Ryder’s character dances in the snow. It’s fascinating to compare the two, because one scene should depict brotherly love while the other shows romantic love, yet to me, they seem almost identical. And honestly, I think Dean and Edward have a lot in common—but that’s a topic for another TED Talk.
So, to wrap things up: Dean is madly in love with his little brother. Thank you all for listening.
I'm only up to season 5, so this is a partial ranking. Stay tuned for more rants!
174 notes
·
View notes
Note
GIRL I GOT ANOTHER IDEA SO EXCUSE ME😝
SO u come back from work super tired from a really hard day and have no energy to take ur makeup off so sukuna offers to do it for u and LET ME TELL YOU this man does not know how to do anything without being aggressive 🙄(typical) so hes drowning the cotton pad in makeup remover and starts aggressively rubbing on ur face purposely just to make u laugh and ur giggling and laughing and slapping his chest telling him to stop cause he’s getting the remover in ur eye and he has no idea what he’s doing THEN ITS ENDS UP BEING ALL KISSY AND STUFF ANYWAY BYE❤️❤️❤️🩷
-Anon🥢
IM GOING TO- *combusts*
———
The way you haphazardly toss your keys on the table, only for them to slip and fall off is exactly the last thing you need.
After today, where one step forward was three back, where nothing went right and nothing was easy, the sight of your keys on the floor has your body tensing in annoyance and shrills of angst down your spine.
You let out a shaky sigh, “I’m home!”
No reply. Your hands ball into fists, “I SAID IM HOME!”
“DAMN I heard you, gimme three seconds!” A gruff voice calls back. You can’t fight the smirk that wants to spread on your tired features, and your hands come up to rub your exhausted eyes. Loud footsteps come down the hall and you drop your hands to blink at him. He snorts, “raccoon looking ass.”
“Oh. Right. I was wearing mascara.”
“It’s fine, not like you’ve got to impress me anyways,” he says, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “how was your day?”
“Terrible,” you whine. You angle your head to look up at him, “can’t I just be your pretty girlfriend and you provide for me?”
He snickers, “I offered, you told me that if you didn’t have independence you’d smother me with a pillow. So no. You can’t.” You groan and bury your face in his chest, and he clicks his tongue, “I can take care of you now, though. If you beg prettily enough.”
“You’re going to make your overworked, burnt out, exhausted future wife beg for your attention?”
“No. I’m going to make her beg to be babied.”
You paw at his chest, fingers fisting the collar of his shirt, “please, sukuna, take care of me for a bit. I’m so tired, and you know how much I already hate asking for your help, but I need you. Please, I just want to be loved for a bit.”
He grins and presses a kiss to your forehead, “that’s more like it. C’mon-“ he bends down to hook his massive hands under your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. You giggle and instinctively tighten your arms around his shoulders, “let’s get your clown makeup off.”
“‘S not clown makeup,” you pout, playing with the hair of his buzz cut. “Tell me I’m pretty.”
“Dawg.”
“Please?” You mewl, pulling back to look down at him, and he rolls his eyes and nudges the bathroom door open with his knee.
“Fuck, you’re really in a headspace huh?” He says, plopping you on the counter. He braces himself on either side of your legs, and he looks you up and down. “Of course you’re beautiful, baby. Taking a lot of control to not smother you right now. Especially with you all pliant, fuck you’re so pretty. Let me take care of you, yeah? Let me make ya feel better.”
“Okay,” you hum. He leans up to press a kiss to your lips before opening the drawer for a cotton square he knows he’s seen you use before. Then, he reaches just behind you to the small shelf, and grabs your makeup remover. “You know what you’re doing?” You ask.
“Babe, I’ve seen you do this more times than I care to count,” he scoffs. “Trust me. I know far too much about what I’m doing.” He pops off the cap and absolutely drenches the poor cotton in an overwhelming amount of makeup remover. He starts to bring it to your eyes, and you laugh and duck away.
“Baby, that’s too much!”
“More makeup remover, more makeup removed,” he says, and while his logic is wrong, you do giggle at the idea he’s trying to help, and while it’s amusing, you don’t want to lose this domesticity with him either.
So, you close your eyes and laugh more as he applies the wet cotton round to your eyes, pressing hard enough the juices spill over your cheeks. “Sukuna!” You titter.
“You want this done or not?” He asks, smearing the cotton around your eye and cheek to try and swipe off any makeup clinging to you. He’s rough with his wiping, pulling your eyes and making your cheeks hot from friction, and you swat at his hands to try and make some relief. “Okay, now you’re hindering.”
“It burns,” you confess, but you’re still laughing.
You practically feel the air go from goofy to panic, “what burns, what do you mean it burns, why does it burn, it doesn’t burn when you do it right?”
“Chill, you big baby,” you snort. “It’s in my eye because you used all 200% of your strength on my damn socket. Just get me a wet cloth, it’ll be fine.”
You watch him fling open the closet door and grab a small washcloth, dampening it with water before passing it to you. He clicks his tongue, “for reference, this is why I never offer to help you.”
“Because you use your brute strength and power to battle the very-easily-removable-mascara from my eyes?”
“Exactly.”
You smile up at him while he tosses the cotton round in the trash, only to then scowl down at you when he meets your gaze. “The fuck’re you looking at?”
“My boyfriend, who loves me,” you coo, and he rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your lips, which you happily reciprocate.
“He smeared makeup all over your face,” he snickers. “You look rough.”
“That’s okay,” you shrug. “He tried his best.”
“Ew.”
#☹️☹️☹️ m pookie#sukuna#sukuna fluff#sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader fluff#sukuna x f!reader#sukuna imagine#sukuna jjk#sukuna ryomen#sukuna ryomen fluff#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader fluff#sukuna ryomen x f!reader#sukuna ryomen imagine#sukuna ryomen jjk#jjk#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x reader fluff#jjk imagine#jjk x f!reader#jjk x female reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x yn
146 notes
·
View notes
Text
November 6, 2024 | Rafe Cameron
masterlist found here
pairing - Rafe x reader word count - 1,827 warnings - political talk, anti-T*ump rhetoric A/N - Who would've thought the shit show state of our world would inspire me to write again. I know for a lot of us everything feels really broken right now, and I know it may seem silly to some, but for me, writing feels like healing, even if it's just something like this. So here you all are. Rafe probably votes red, but here's a world where he doesn't. Also, if you're a T*umper, go ahead and unfollow me. I can't have any of that in my life. I'm so serious.
summary - The results of the 2024 election hit you pretty hard, and you end up taking your rage out on Rafe. Turns out, Rafe's hopes for the future looked a lot like yours.
You and Rafe didn’t talk about politics. You knew better than to broach the topic with him, because you weren’t naive. One glance at him and anyone could guess how he voted.
But that didn’t mean you had to like it.
The two of you had been dating for about six months, and for the most part, it was smooth sailing. It was gossip fuel for most people on the island for a few weeks -you being a pogue and Rafe being … who he was- but like most drama in Kildaire, it didn’t stay at the forefront of people’s minds for long before another thing came and stole back everyone’s attention.
And the thing on everyone’s mind right now was the election. The election that had you donned in blue on your way to the polls, a huge smile on your face as you filled in the bubble that would make history. Hope filled you in a way you were sure it never had before.
Until the next day.
Waking up and opening social media to see the results had already come in was enough to break your spirit completely. How could this have happened? How could the country have failed so many people?
Then again, how had you been so naive to believe in the possibility of any other outcome?
You shut yourself off from the world for most of the day. You went to work and gave polite smiles and nods to your coworkers as needed, but you did your best to spend the majority of your time locked in your office, alone. You didn’t dare to open social media, knowing every MAGA post from the bigots of the Figure 8 would bring tears to your eyes.
It wasn’t until you were at home on your couch that you decided to brave Instagram. Before scrolling through your feed, you added a black screen with a simple blue heart to your story and wrote the words, When we fight, we win.
You thought it was harmless. A simple story that showed your feelings without being overly dramatic. The last thing you wanted to do was act irrational by doing something crazy like storming the capitol. Because that would just be insane.
Unfortunately, the people who followed you saw it as anything but harmless. They saw it as an opening to send you the most heinous, revolting messages you had ever read. Your notifications blew up within minutes, and some of them were so borderline terrifying that you locked your phone and threw it across the room, once again leaving you in a puddle of tears.
You heard your front door open, and you cursed to yourself. In all the chaos of the news, it escaped your mind that it was Wednesday, and Rafe always brought pizza to your apartment on Wednesdays. You had once mentioned in passing that you liked a pick-me-up halfway through a week, and Rafe took it upon himself to provide you with that. Normally, it was one of your favorite parts of the week. Today, Rafe was one of the last people you wanted to see.
“Babe!” he called out upon his entrance. “I got your favorite!”
You met him in the kitchen, and by one look at your face, Rafe’s own expression dropped. “What’s going on?”
You swallowed back the lump in your throat. “I think you should go.”
“What?” he said, dropping the pizza on the counter and walking over to you. With each step he took toward you, you took one step back. He stopped quickly, a frown painted on his face. “What’s wrong, baby?”
The words made something snap inside you, and your fists clenched at your sides. “What’s wrong?” you repeated. “What’s wrong? How about fucking everything, Rafe! Everything’s wrong, and you not seeing that is part of the problem! You are part of the problem!”
Rafe was, in a word, flabbergasted. He ran through the past 24 hours, trying to think of something he had done wrong, but he was coming up short. “Okay, I’m-” He let out an exasperated laugh. “I’m trying to understand, but you’ve got to give me something more here. What did I do?”
“You-” You let out a huff of a breath and ended up speaking through gritted teeth. “You and your stupid fucking MAGA Kook friends voted for a convicted felon to run our country! You voted for a man who wants to throw away my rights. You voted for a man who has raped a multitude of women and brags about it!”
Rafe’s eyes were wide as he held his hands up and shook his head. “Hang on-”
“No, Rafe!” you shouted, pushing him back as he tried to get closer to you again. “For the entire time we’ve dated, I’ve danced around the talk of politics, because I knew better. I knew a rich ass white guy from the south would vote for another rich ass white guy to run our country, but I guess I naively thought it wouldn’t matter. That the poor guys would get a win for fucking once this time. For once I thought the good guys would win and that a white man would have to face the consequences of his actions. But you-” You laughed bitterly. “You of all people know that privileged ass white men never ever have to face the consequences of their actions.”
You were hitting him where it hurt, and you knew it, but you were hurt. You and every woman like you had been holding in years of pain and hurt, and for you and many others, today was the day it was all going to come out.
“Baby, if you just let me-”
“Let you?” you laughed incredulously. “You and your fellow MAGA guys have clearly shown me I don’t have to let you do anything anymore.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
You fished your phone out of your pocket, unlocked it, and shoved it in his face to show him all of the nasty messages you were receiving. Things like, “Your body, my choice,” “whomp whomp go make me a sandwich,” and “Guess what? Men win again” had flooded your DMs, and while you didn’t know it, Rafe was clocking every username and making a very specific list in his head.
“So maybe you can understand why I’m angry, Rafe,” you said, taking the phone back out of his hand and putting it in your pocket again. “I thought I could cancel out your vote, but I guess I forgot that meant you could cancel mine.”
“Ba-”
“I want you to leave, Rafe.”
“But I didn’t-”
“Fucking, go, Rafe!” you shouted. “Let me be angry and let me be alone!”
With a clenched jaw, Rafe gave a short nod. “Okay,” he whispered. “Fine.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but he refrained, instead turning around and heading out the door, leaving you in a mess of tears.
The next day, you called off from work. Maybe it was dramatic, but you didn’t care. You knew if one person even looked at you in a way you didn’t like, you’d lose any composure you had, and you couldn’t afford to lose your job for yelling at your boss.
You had the full intention to stay in bed all day, but the relentless knock at your door around 10AM proved that to be impossible. You felt some sense of relief, knowing it at least wouldn’t be another political petitioner.
Instead, perhaps just as unfortunately, it was Rafe.
You let out a heavy sigh. “What do you want, Rafe?”
He held out his hand which had a coffee cup in it from your favorite shop. “I went to your work, but your boss said you were sick,” he said. “I bought you coffee.” You took it, but didn’t say anything -just looked at him with raised eyebrows, as if to say, Anything else? “Can we please talk?” he said.
“I don’t know what there is to say, Rafe,” you sighed. Still, you stepped aside and let him in, not wanting your neighbors to bear witness to whatever argument was about to ensue. “I know we’re different -I’ve always known that- but I don’t think I can handle being this kind of different anymore.” You plopped yourself onto the sofa, expecting Rafe to sit next to you. Instead, he crouched in front of you so he was just slightly looking up at you.
“Baby, I didn’t vote for him.”
Your lips parted slightly in shock, and you felt tears instantly pool in your eyes.
“What?” you whispered.
“Yeah, of course I didn’t vote for him,” he said. He reached up to turn around the hat he was wearing backwards to reveal a Harris-Walz cap, and you let out a noise that was a mix of a gasp and a little laugh. “I know I’ve fucked up before baby,” he said. “And in other elections, yeah, I usually vote red. But this-” He shook his head and squeezed your knees. “This is different. And I know that. And I’d be an absolute moron to think that tax cuts for me are more important than basic rights for you.”
You moved to kneel on the floor next to him and held his face in your hands before leaning forward to place a soft kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, you kept your forehead against his. “I was so mean to you yesterday,” you whispered. “I didn’t-”
“It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve,” he said. “I know that I am living in a world that was pretty much tailor made for me. And I know I should be in fucking prison for all the shit I’ve done, and so should he. And I know that none of what I’m saying right now changes the bullshit I’ve done, but I figured I should at least use all this fucking privilege I have and try to help people who don’t have it. Because you-” He paused to press a kiss to your lips. “-have taught me so much about being a good person. And I’m not going to vote against that.”
“I wasn’t a good person yesterday,” you mumbled.
“You were reacting to an unfortunately historic event,” he said. “You had every right to lose it. And you can keep losing it, and I will be by your side for every minute of it, okay?”
You nodded and gave him a soft smile. “Okay.”
He smiled back and nodded. “Okay.”
You and Rafe decided to spend the rest of the day together, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting in the quiet. When you suggested putting on a movie, Rafe agreed. He let you choose, no complaints, and watched as you searched for the Barbie movie. You cried at all the usual parts, sometimes a bit harder than normal, but Rafe understood.
It is literally impossible to be a woman.
----- ----- ----- -----
add yourself to my TAGLIST
strike-through means Tumblr won’t let me tag you
If you want to be taken off the list (or be put on for only certain people) just message me and let me know!
ALL:
@bangtan-serendipity
@planetdemon
@the-singing-clown406
@tomshufflepuff
@bluelalal
@grandloser
@jackiehollanderr
@mindset-jupiter
@bisexual-sk8r
@feel-like-gold
@runaway-apple
@miraclesoflove
@marvelismylifffe
@wonderbyers
@coraz0ndcristal
@lizmarvel
@delicately-important-trash
@superhoorny4daddy
@misshale21
@mrsjna
@daisydark
Rafe Cameron:
@starkeybae
@drakestoes
@ethanthequeefqueen
@r1vrsefx
@angelsplnet
@alltomay
@immelissaaa
@tahliac11
@bibliophilewednesday
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#outer banks imagine#this is so niche but I really needed it#and idk maybe someone else does too
135 notes
·
View notes