#it's not enough to just say ''states bad''
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STRESS
~850 words
>After long missions Ben is obviously stressed. What else can you do if not help him?
warnings/notes: smut, minors dni! oral (m receiving), female reader but there aren't many real descriptions other than calling reader a "heroine", no usage of y/n, no proofread I'm gonna die, ben is being canonically really rough, but there's just a bit of his softer side i wish was there in canon so maybe ooc, supe!reader, reader is a second captain of payback (like starlight in the third season but no parallels between starlight & homelander and reader & soldier boy)
REBLOGS WILL BE APPRECIATED!
It hadn't been a hard day, not even a hard week, it had been going on for a hell of a long time. Everyone was on edge, even Tessa and Tommy were exhausted, and if all those missions, he filming of that stupid movie Legend had insisted on, could exhaust the twins, whose energy had always burned like dynamite, pun intended, then obviously no one had any energy at all.
People deal with stress in different ways. Some people try to abstract themselves from society - that's what Mindstorm did, and something in you told him that if he missed one more training session, then as soon as his coat even looms in Soldier Boy's peripheral vision, Dan would be dead.
Some were trying to forget themselves in training, and some were trying to beat the crap out of them in training. And you, as co-captain of this incorrigible team, as a supe who still had some humanity left in her, it was unbearably painful to watch Ben take it out on the others. But not at you, of course. Of course not at you, you were fucking special.
For instance, you were special when you sat between his legs in the meeting room.
No, don't think anything terrible, Ben wasn't the kind of man who would force a woman to do something like that, after all, he may have been a bastard, a misogynist and...a lot of other bad things, but he was a real man of his time - or at least he thought he was. In his opinion, it was much more manly to get a woman to fall at his feet - in this case, literally.
No, it's just that after he almost smashed Black Noir's head on the table during today's meeting, you had no doubt that he could use some stress relief.
And who, if not the second captain of the Payback, America's No. 1 heroine, on a par with the Statue of Liberty, could help him, America's greatest hero, become even a little more forgiving? The answer was obvious: no one. Did you do it out of fear, Stockholm syndrome, or because the only humanity left in you somehow cherished the bastard? It wasn't that important. Not now, anyway.
Not when his big hand was clutching your hair, painfully pulling back and literally slamming your head into his lap again and again. His cock slammed into your throat with a sharp and tremendous pressure, and somewhere through the veil of your own pleasure in the process you could hear his absolutely animalistic growl. Well, knowing that you could bring him to such a primitive state fueled so much pride in your chest that you obviously grew bolder.
You could grip his shaft lightly with your teeth, which made your hair pull back especially hard, forcing you to let go of his length from your mouth. You only laughed, and Ben only feigned annoyance.
And just a few moments after that, he's back to exhaling your name gutturally, stretching the "r" sound especially hard when he says you're his "good girl". And soon enough, Ben's grip on your curls tightens, and he's moving your head at an unsteady pace in pursuit of his pleasure alone. You suppress your gag reflexes, because to your great surprise, not only he likes it, but you as well. You were definitely a masochist.
His growls, guttural moans, and sloppy grunts mingled with your whimpers and the wet slapping of your face against his heated skin. How strange was it that you were ready to cum now without even touching your needy slit with your fingertips, just from the feel of his huge length in your mouth? It was probably very strange, but you didn't have that thought in your head, or any other, God, Ben had literally fucked the shit out of your brain, because all your sick mind was thinking about was his voice, his face, his hands, just fucking him. Thrust, thrust, another thrust--
He stops abruptly, apparently not wanting to end it like this. Soldier Boy lets go of your hair, pats your head approvingly (a rare sign of tenderness on his part!) and then takes up the locks again to lift your face off his still-hard cock, glistening in a mixture of pre-ejaculate and your saliva. He grins smugly, taking your chin with his finger. Judging by the fact that he's even allowed himself that smirk, some of his stress is already gone. But this is not enough.
"Get up, love. And sit on the table," he growls, lifting you off your lap as you almost hit your head on the edge of the table, and Ben lowers himself to you, pressing his lips dangerously close to yours in a scalding kiss. His lips taste gross, a mixture of expensive whiskey, weed, and smoke, but you grasp the taste with your whole life line. But before you can even open your mouth to his tongue, Ben soon pulls away, biting your bottom lip.
"I'm not going to end this with you so easily."
a/n: of course know this man is huge asshole and i hate him with all of my heart but your honor he's played by jensen ackles so he can be pardoned. idk what was the last time i written smut tbh
#the boys#the boys x reader#the boys x you#soldier boy#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x female reader#writers on tumblr#soldier boy smut#smutty smut smut#your honor im just a girl
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fleeing feelings
pairing: hvc x fem!reader | best friend!seungkwan genre: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, university au wc: 9.6k warnings: alcohol consumption (pls drink responsibly!!) a/n: for @k-vanity 's âfalling for youâ event! My prompts were London Fog (âYou said what to who now?! Why?!â) and Pumpkin Spice Latte (âExcuse me, but is this seat taken?â)Â // enormous thank you to @cheolism for the most gorgeous banner // and thank you to my lovely betas @lovetaroandtaemin and @tusswrites
summary: so you might have told vernon you loved him while drunk â now all you have to do is avoid him. forever.Â
The headache is real.
It feels like someone decided your skull was the perfect canvas for a jackhammer. Each throb sends waves of pain coursing through your brain, and even the soft hum of the world outside your window seems like an assault on your fragile state. If it wasnât for the fact that youâre pretty sure your last memory was of collapsing into your bed after a night of regrettable decisions, youâd swear you were dying.
You blink up at the ceiling, groaning as sunlight streams through the blinds, slicing through the dim room like a guilty conscience. Your eyes ache at the brightness, and you throw a hand over your face in an attempt to shield yourself from the assault. The cold sheets are a welcome contrast to the fire thatâs raging inside your head.
You wish for sleep, but it doesnât come. Instead, you're greeted by an annoyingly chipper voice, too loud for a Sunday morning at 11 a.m.
"Morning!" Seungkwan chirps, a little too cheerfully for someone who clearly has no understanding of the term hangover. He's holding a glass of water, like itâs the most exciting thing in the world, and you can't help but squint at him through half-closed eyes. Heâs got that same gleeful smile on his face, looking way too awake for someone who shares an apartment with someone who just wants to die right now.
"Seungkwan, please... Itâs too early for your brand of happiness," you croak, your voice hoarse and barely audible. Your throat feels like you swallowed sandpaper, and you barely have the strength to sit up.
"Well, itâs already late enough for me to help you feel better," he says with a grin thatâs too wide to be genuine, handing you the glass of water and an aspirin like itâs some kind of miracle cure. "You donât want to end up like last time, do you?"
You roll your eyes, trying to sit up but the world tilts dangerously. You clutch the glass like it might actually save you, your fingers trembling from the effort. "Last time?" you mutter, still a little too disoriented to make sense of anything. âI barely remember last night.â
Seungkwanâs grin stretches even wider. "Oh, last night was a memorable one," he says, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, like heâs got the best secret in the world.
You squint at him, struggling to keep your eyes open. "What do you mean by that?"
The moment it leaves your mouth, the memories come rushing back, one after another, like a broken dam finally giving way. You and Vernon had gone outside for some air, the cool night breeze refreshing against your skin. You remember the conversation turning quiet, the alcohol still buzzing in your veins, the way the breeze ruffled his hair, and then...
Oh god. Oh no.
You freeze, the blood draining from your face as your stomach drops. Your heart stutters in your chest as you try to piece it together. You had told Vernon you loved him. In your drunken haze, it had slipped out, but now? Now it feels like the kind of thing you would never, ever do if you werenât so far gone on cheap whiskey and bad decisions.
You look at Seungkwan, your face crumpling in embarrassment. "I... I told Vernon... I told him I love him."
Seungkwan blinks at you, the shock clear on his face. For a second, it seems like he doesnât even know how to respond. Then, his eyes widen comically, and a burst of laughter bursts from him. "You said what to who?!" He takes a step back, as if the sheer magnitude of your confession has physically knocked him off balance. "You confessed? To Vernon?" He cackles, his laugh loud and echoing in the quiet of your room.
You slump back against your pillow, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You wish the floor would just swallow you up. "I didnât mean to! I was drunkâokay?" you mutter, your words barely making it out.
Seungkwan is practically vibrating with laughter. "Oh my god, you actually did it," he says between fits of giggles. "Thatâs soâwait, wait. What did Vernon say back?"
And thatâs when the panic sets in. You stare blankly at Seungkwan, your brain spinning. You want to remember, you need to remember what he said back, but itâs a complete blank. The memory of his face, his expression, even his wordsâtheyâre gone. As if it never happened. You feel a new wave of nausea rising in your stomach.
You swallow hard, forcing yourself to speak. "I donât remember," you confess, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.
Seungkwan stops laughing, blinking at you like heâs just realized you might be serious. "What do you mean you donât remember?" he asks, sounding more confused than before.
You press the heel of your hand to your forehead, trying to steady your dizzying thoughts. "I... I canât remember what he said back. And thatâs worse than not hearing anything at all."
Seungkwanâs face falters for a second, then the teasing glint returns in his eyes. "Well... you have to face him, right? Heâs literally just down the hall," he points out, his voice softening as he sits on the edge of your bed. "And youâre gonna have to talk to him eventually. You canât avoid him forever."
You frown, looking at him as if he's spoken a foreign language. "And why the hell not?"
Seungkwan leans in, his finger counting off the reasons like heâs been preparing for this moment his whole life. "One: heâs our best friend. Two: he lives down the hall, not in another universe. And three..." He pauses, dramatically. "Heâs your BEST FRIEND."
You groan, rolling over and burying your face into your pillow, desperate to block out the light, the noise, and Seungkwanâs well-meaning logic. "You already said that," you mumble into the fabric, wishing the pillow could swallow you whole.
"Iâm emphasizing," Seungkwan replies, sitting back in a huff. "Emphasizing that he knows you like the back of his hand, stupid. Heâs not gonna let you avoid him."
You moan into the pillow. "I canât even think about facing him right now, Seungkwan. Not today."
"Tough. Youâre facing him eventually, whether you like it or not," Seungkwan says, but his voice softens, his hand brushing your back comfortingly. "But hey, Iâm your best friend. Iâm here to support you through whatever happens."
You just grunt in response, curling back into the pillow like it might somehow shield you from reality. "Great. As long as youâre here to watch me suffer."
Seungkwan grins, his voice full of mischief. "Thatâs the plan."
You can feel the weight of your poor life choices pressing down on you as you sit in the overpriced, over-crowded coffee shop, nursing the lukewarm disaster that is your latte. It's one of those days where everything tastes like regretâcoffee included. Your laptop screen blurs as you try to focus on your prelab. You're supposed to be working, supposed to be productive, but all you can do is mentally list everything that went wrong in your life in the past 48 hours.
The lab professor? Completely useless. Your grade? Already plummeting. And as for the whole Vernon situation? Yeah, let's not talk about that.
You can feel the throbbing pain in your temples as your mind drifts back to that nightâthe confession that slipped out of your mouth when you were way too drunk. The look on Vernonâs face... God, you're so embarrassed. If there was a hole to crawl into, youâd dive right in and never resurface.
Beside you, Seungkwan is breezing through his own prelab, the same one youâre supposed to be working on, but it seems like heâs in a completely different world. As usual. He taps away at his laptop, his fingers moving in a rhythm like heâs been here for hoursâwhen in reality, he probably hasnât even started yet. You scowl at your laptop as the blinking cursor mocks you for not getting anything done.
You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together. "God, I hate this class. And I hate that professor," you mutter, rubbing your temples. "Why did I even sign up for this? Why is life like this?"
Seungkwan doesnât look up from his screen, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. "Because you're a glutton for punishment. You're just mad because the only thing you're getting out of this lab is the overpriced coffee."
You huff, sloshing your latte around in its cup in a way that makes you wish you could just drown in it. "Yeah, well, Iâm about to drown in this lab report if I donât figure it out soon."
"Shouldâve taken easier classes," Seungkwan snorts, and you shoot him a glare. He knows you better than anyone, and he knows you're not the type to shy away from a challenge. You donât even have the energy to argue, so you let him win this one.
The door chimes as someone enters, and your focus breaks. You glance up, hoping it's just some random student walking in to grab their iced coffee, but no.
Of course not.
You hear that low, familiar voice, the one that makes your heart do a little flip. "Is this seat taken?"
No. No. Fuck.
There, standing by the table, looking like he belongs in some glossy magazine for college students who know how to look effortlessly cool, is Vernon. The guy you still havenât figured out how to face after that monumental fuck-up of a confession two days ago. And now? Now heâs standing there, staring at you and Seungkwan with a hesitant smile, probably wondering if itâs safe to sit down or if youâre about to sprint out of here like a coward.
Seungkwan, the absolute bastard, beams at Vernon. "Oh no, itâs totally free," he says, too eager. He's so happy to make this as awkward as possible. You could almost feel the smugness radiating off him. "Come sit, Vernon. We could use the company!"
Your heart sinks into your stomach as Vernon takes the seat across from you, not missing the subtle shift in your posture. He looks at you with those eyes of his, eyes that are both too warm and too intense, and you feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You canât look at him. You canât.
You force a smile, but it feels like youâre pushing your lips together with a crowbar. "Uh, yeah. Just working on it," you mumble, barely even aware of what you just said. Your brain is too busy doing its best to not short-circuit. You take another sip of your latte, hoping the caffeine will somehow pull you together. It doesnât.
Seungkwan, the little devil, doesnât help at all. Heâs practically radiating glee, enjoying your discomfort far too much. "Yeah, Y/N here is just dying to finish her part of the report," he says, clearly trying to get a rise out of you. "But it's okay, sheâs doing just fine! Arenât you?" He shoots you a wink, but Vernon doesnât catch itâthank God.
Your eyes flick to your screen, looking for any excuse to not talk to Vernon right now. You just need to not look at him. "Actually, I forgot something," you blurt out, standing up abruptly, not even thinking it through. "I just... I need to grab something. Iâll be back in a second."
You donât wait for anyone to respond. You donât even look at Vernon as you grab your bag and make a hasty retreat to the counter. Your heart is pounding in your ears, and your breath feels shallow. This was a terrible idea. Why did you invite him to work on the prelab in the first place? Was it because you wanted an excuse to spend time with him? To not feel so much?
You donât know.
You leave the cafe altogether, your mind racing, and find yourself walking aimlessly for a few minutes, trying to cool off. The cold air outside stings your cheeks, but itâs a welcome distraction from the heat of embarrassment still flushing through your body.
You pull out your phone, needing something to take your mind off everything. It pings almost immediately with a message from Seungkwan:
Boo đ: so... how long are u gonna avoid him
You laugh weakly, but itâs more from disbelief than anything else. You text back quickly:
Y/N: iâm not avoiding him
Y/N: iâm just
Y/N: strategically distancing myself until i can look him in the eye without dying of shame
Boo đ: ur not gonna go back to the cafe because its too much?
Your phone dings again in quick succession.Â
Boo đ: u realize ur only making it worse right
You squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lip to suppress a groan. Oh god, Seungkwan, shut up.
Y/N: iâm already halfway across campus
Y/N: oh well, canât exactly go back now
Boo đ: he looks like you kicked him in the nuts and then ran away btw
Boo đ: iâm keeping him companyÂ
Boo đ: ur not getting away with this btw iâm never letting u live this down
You exhale loudly, already feeling the weight of your decision in the pit of your stomach. What did you think would happen? Youâve messed this up royally. Again.
Y/N: I hate you so much.
Boo đ: no u donât ! youâll see him again soon. probably tomorrow
Y/N: fuck you
Boo đ: love u too! donât worry iâll handle thisÂ
Boo đ: good luck with that prelab see u at home <3Â
You slump your shoulders in defeat, staring at the screen of your phone. Thereâs no getting out of this. Youâve somehow managed to make this even more awkward. Of course, Seungkwan would drag it out. You wouldnât expect any less from him.
You drag yourself back into the apartment, the weight of your failed escape attempt still heavy on your shoulders. The door slams behind you, and you sigh deeply, almost as if trying to shake the embarrassment off your body. You kick your shoes off and leave them by the door, your bag slung over your shoulder like a dead weight. Youâre so done with everything.
The apartment feels like itâs mocking youâseemingly quiet, except for the hum of Seungkwanâs obnoxiously loud voice floating from the living room. You hear the faint click of his phone screen as you shuffle toward the couch. You can practically feel him smirking at your impending doom even before you see him.
Sure enough, when you walk into the living room, heâs lounging on the couch, sprawled across it in his usual dramatic fashion. Heâs scrolling through his phone, one leg thrown over the side, looking like he hasnât had a care in the world since he woke up.Â
You throw yourself onto the couch next to him, feeling the familiar softness of the cushions sink beneath you. The weight of the last few hours presses down on your chest. Itâs so comfortable here, but you canât fully relax. Not with him sitting right next to you, clearly enjoying the aftermath of your spectacular mess.
âDonât even say it,â you groan, pushing yourself into the cushions like they might swallow you whole.
He doesnât even glance up from his phone. Instead, he lets out a small, knowing laugh. âSo... howâs the avoidance game going?â
You just close your eyes for a moment, willing yourself to disappear. âIâm never leaving my room again. Ever.â
Seungkwan bursts into laughter, the sound filling the small apartment and bouncing off the walls. Itâs enough to make your skin crawl, but you canât help but feel a bit of a tug at your own lips. Heâs genuinely enjoying your misery, and you hate it. âI mean, itâs been two days, and youâve already chickened out at the cafĂ©. Thatâs a solid record.â
You groan dramatically, rolling your head back against the cushion. âI didnât chicken out. I just... needed a moment to not make eye contact with him, okay?â
âSure, sure,â Seungkwan says, his voice laced with sarcasm. âThatâs why you bolted out of there like a squirrel avoiding a hawk.â
You push his shoulder weakly, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his hoodie. âShut up, Boo. You have no idea how embarrassing it was.â
âOf course I do,â he says smugly, setting his phone down on the coffee table with a soft thud. âI was the one trying to hold a conversation with Vernon while you were having your little meltdown across campus.â
âCan we please not talk about it?â You bury your face in your hands, muffling your groan of embarrassment.
Seungkwanâs voice is dripping with amusement. âWell, you better figure it out soon. You invited him to our cafĂ© session, and now youâre running away from your own mess. Itâs hilarious.â
You sit up, rubbing your face in exasperation. âIâm never going to be able to look him in the eye again.â
Seungkwan shrugs, his grin still wickedly satisfied. âWell, itâs not like you have much of a choice. I mean, unless youâre planning to live in that room of yours forever?â
You lean back against the couch, the soft fabric cool against your skin. You feel the weight of your thoughts settle in again, and with it, the overwhelming desire to hide from the world. âI canât,â you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. âHeâs gonna know Iâm avoiding him on purpose.â
âYeah, heâs not that dumb,â Seungkwan says, flipping through his phone lazily. âBut you know what? You could avoid him for a while. You just need to avoid... everything youâre supposed to do, forever.â
You turn your head slowly to look at him. âThatâs your solution? Run away?â
âPretty much,â Seungkwan says, completely unfazed. âBut you have to be more creative. Maybe pretend youâre dead? Or like you have the plague?â
You snort, despite yourself, the idea so absurd that it almost lightens the mood. âYeah, sure. Iâll just start wearing a sign around my neck: Please, donât talk to me. Iâm a walking disaster.â
Seungkwan grins, his eyes lighting up mischievously. âHonestly, I think itâs a good look for you.â
You roll your eyes, but you canât hold back a laugh. âYouâre the worst.â
Seungkwan stretches out, his grin wide and smug. âLook, I saved you today, but donât expect me to keep doing this forever. At some point, youâre on your own.â He reaches for his phone, ready to return to his lazy scrolling.
You sit up, the absurdity of the situation hitting you in waves. âYeah, Iâll figure it out... eventually.â
Seungkwan gives you a side-eye. âSure you will. But for now, enjoy the free ride, disaster queen.â
Itâs just your luck that, of all people, Vernon is your lab partner today. The second your professor calls your name, you feel your stomach twist into knots. You swear your internal groan echoes in the hum of the fluorescent lights above you. Why him?
Across the lab, Vernonâs already tugging on his gloves, eyeing the instructions on the counter like heâs got his shit together. You canât help but stare at him for a second, the way his hair falls messily across his forehead, the way he moves like he doesnât have a care in the world. The thought of having to work with him makes you feel like youâve been thrown into a pressure cooker, and youâre about to explode.
You try to focus, really, you do. But itâs impossible. Your brain keeps wandering back to him. His fucking hums. His stupid little smile. The way his dark eyes flicker up every now and then to make sure youâre still there. Itâs like he knows exactly how much heâs fucking with your head, and the worst part? Heâs probably not even trying.
A Bunsen burner hisses in the background, and the sound almost makes you flinch, like it's too loud in the otherwise quiet lab. You try to focus on the beaker in front of you. Try to just get through this. But itâs hard when all you can feel is the weight of his gaze on you.
âGot it, Y/N?â Vernonâs voice cuts through your thoughts. Heâs leaning against the counter now, watching you with a lazy grin, like he knows what he's doing to you.
Your face flushes involuntarily, and you shoot him a tight smile, hoping to play it cool. âYeah, got it,â you mumble, though your mind is a jumbled mess. Your hand shakes slightly as you pick up the pipette, and you swear he notices, but he doesnât say anything. Thatâs even worse. You hate how easy it is for him to get under your skin.
Itâs bad enough that youâre stuck with him, but now youâve got to get through an hour-long experiment without combusting. The tension is palpable, and itâs making you want to crawl out of your skin.
But then, just as youâre about to lose it, you spot Seungkwan strutting back from the fume hood. You swear you can feel the relief hit your chest like a tidal wave. Perfect.
Seungkwan doesnât seem to notice you until youâre already walking toward him, your feet moving on their own accord, desperate to make the switch. When he looks up, his gaze flickers over you, and that smirk creeps onto his lips. The one you know too well. The one that says, Iâm going to fuck with you now.
âWhatâs up, Y/N?â he asks, popping his gum. âNeed help with the chemical equations? Or is it more of a personal emergency?â
You throw your hands up, exasperated. âI need to switch lab partners, Seungkwan. Like, now.â
Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. âReally? Whatâs wrong? Does Vernonâs inability to mix chemicals properly scare you, or are you just that tired of looking at his face?â
You grimace, frustration bubbling in your chest. God, whyâs he gotta make it worse? âNo, itâs just⊠I canât focus with him staring at me every five seconds.â
Seungkwanâs smirk widens, and you can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. âOh, so thatâs what it is, huh? Youâre not focused because Vernon keeps looking at you like youâre his personal chemistry experiment?â
Your heart rate spikes. Fuck off, Seungkwan. âShut up, Iâm being serious,â you mutter, but you can hear the hitch in your voice, and it makes you want to punch yourself in the face.
Seungkwan doesnât let up, leaning in closer with that same cocky grin, looking far too pleased with himself. âIs that why youâve been staring at him for the last five minutes, then?â he teases, and you swear you can hear the little giggle in his voice. âI didnât realize we were doing that kind of experiment today.â
Your blood goes hot. âStop it!â you hiss, but you canât keep the embarrassed flush from spreading across your face. âI just need you to switch with me, Seungkwan. Thatâs it.â
Seungkwan chuckles lowly, clearly having way too much fun with this. âOh, okay. So you want me to switch with you just because you canât handle the heat, huh?â He taps his chin, like heâs thinking about it, but itâs obvious heâs already decided.
âFine,â you say, voice low but firm. âBut only if you actually want me to send that video of you drunkenly crying about chickens to the entire friend group. You remember that one, right? The one where you were saying, âThose chickens are my babies, I love them so muchâ?â
Seungkwanâs eyes widen, and for a second, you swear you see a flicker of panic. You almost smile, but you hold it in. Gotcha.
âNo,â he says, shaking his head like heâs trying to backpedal. âYou wouldnât.â
âOh, I absolutely would,â you reply smoothly, crossing your arms. You can feel the smug grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. âSo, how about it? You switch with me, or I make everyoneâs day a little more interesting?â
Seungkwan looks around the room, clearly considering his options. Heâs not stupid enough to let that video go public. âOkay, okay, fine. You win, Y/N. But you owe me for this one, big time.â
You give him a sweet smile. âDeal.â
Seungkwan walks over to Vernon, throwing his hands up dramatically. âVernon, buddy, looks like youâre stuck with me as your partner today.â
You barely suppress a laugh as Vernonâs head jerks up in surprise. âWait, what? Really?â
You take that as your cue and grab your stuff, moving toward Chanâs station. Youâre feeling lighter already, knowing the rest of this class wonât be nearly as awkward. Chanâs a great guyâeasygoing, level-headed, and most importantly, not Vernon.Â
You set your bag down on the counter and look over at Chan, whoâs already elbow-deep in his notes, completely unaware of the chaos you just caused. âHey, Chan,â you say, forcing a cheerful tone despite everything. âLooks like weâre partners now.â
He looks up with a bright smile, oblivious to the fact that heâs been dragged into your mess. âOh, hey, Y/N! Sounds good to me.â Heâs so sweet and always so positive, but⊠well, the thing is, Chan could not for the life of him keep track of chemical reactions if his life depended on it. This could be the worst decision youâve made today.
You sit down, a little defeated, as you adjust your gloves and open the instructions. Youâre partnered with Chan now, but nothing feels quite right. As sweet as he is, chemistry might as well be a foreign language to him. You glance back over at Vernonâs lab station, which, of course, is conveniently located just a few feet away. You can hear the familiar sound of Vernon and Seungkwanâs voices drifting toward you, but youâre so not ready to face them just yet.
You feel your chest tighten as you try to ignore it, but then Vernon speaks again. âI donât bite, Y/N,â he teases, his voice cutting through the air like a soft command. Itâs casual, playful even, but it does nothing to stop the heat that floods your face.
You swallow hard, praying the blush on your cheeks isnât visible. This is not the moment. Not the perfect moment to have him distract you. Your pulse picks up at the sound of his voice again, and you can almost feel his gaze on you. You donât look back, but you know heâs probably waiting for a response.
âY/N?â Chan says softly, his voice pulling you out of your mental spiral. âAre you okay?â
You quickly look away, feeling that familiar heat creeping up your neck. âIâm fine,â you mutter to yourself. âIâm fine.â
Your stomach flips as an idea strikes youâfake sick. Youâve done it before, and itâs a perfect way to buy yourself some time away from Vernon, maybe even the entire day.
Just get through this, and then you can run away forever.
Your body starts to tremble slightly as you put a hand to your forehead, doing your best to sound miserable. âUgh, I donât feel so good...â
Chan immediately rushes to your side, concern flashing across his face, and you can hear Seungkwan's snort of disbelief. Vernon looks at you with a furrowed brow, clearly not buying it. But heâs too polite to say anything. âYou sure? You look kinda green.â
Thatâs your cue. You make a dramatic move, leaning over the lab counter, your hands gripping it as if you're about to collapse. Your stomach gives another exaggerated roll as you close your eyes. âI think Iâm gonna be sick,â you say in a voice thatâs so over the top, it sounds like it came straight out of a soap opera.
You expect Vernon to panic, maybe grab your arm to steady you, but instead, he just stares at you, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. âReally?â he asks slowly, clearly unconvinced. "Or is it that you want to run away again?"
Oh my god. You freeze, horrified that Vernon might actually be onto you. You try to hide your terror behind your palm, rubbing your eyes like youâre just too tired to keep up the act. âNo! No... Iâm definitely sick,â you say with a cough for added effect.
But Vernon isnât having it. He places his hands on his hips, shaking his head with a small chuckle. âYouâre not even trying to hide it. Just admit youâre avoiding me. Whatâs the deal?â
You panic, fully aware that your ridiculous performance isnât going to fool him for long. You grab your bag off the back of the chair with a look of pure desperation. âNo, no! I justâuh, I need to go to the bathroom! Iâll be right back, promise!â
Before Chan can protest, you push past him, stumbling out of the lab with as much speed as your shaking legs can muster. You burst out into the hallway, nearly running into a group of students on their way to their next class. Too close. You force your breathing to steady as you walk briskly, acting like you havenât just staged the most obvious escape ever.
You round the corner, ducking into the nearest restroom. You push open the door, locking it behind you, leaning against the cool tile wall as you try to gather yourself. What is wrong with you?
Your phone buzzes in your pocket. Seungkwan, of course.
Boo đ: i was joking when i said u should get the plague idiot
Boo đ: ur the worst actor iâve ever seen
Y/N: i had to ok
Y/N: this is a nightmare.
Your phone buzzes again almost immediately.Â
Boo đ: ur so obvious itâs kinda gross
Boo đ: chanâs gonna fail this lab for u. also. U NEED TO TALK TO VERNON AT SOME POINT
Y/N: not today!
Itâs Friday night. One week since that confession. And honestly? All you want right now is a shot of shitty tequila, a cheap beer, and some damn good music to drown out the past seven days. Youâre tired of thinking about it. Youâre tired of pretending like last weekend never happened.
The second you and Seungkwan step through the door of Mingyuâs house, you're hit with a wave of noise. Itâs too loud, the bass too heavy, but somehow, thatâs exactly what you need. The house is packed, the kind of party that screams âletâs fuck up everything in the best way possible.â You spot Mingyu behind the kitchen counter, already wearing that signature smirk of his, mixing drinks for whoeverâs brave enough to stand in line. But thenâof courseâyour night has to take a turn.
Vernon.
Heâs sprawled out on the couch, head bopping to some random SoundCloud rap, looking way too at ease in his flannel and backwards cap. Fucking perfect. You mentally groan. Youâd hoped for at least a few hours of peace tonight, but apparently, thatâs not in the cards.
Seungkwan nudges you, elbow digging into your side. âWell, well, well,â he says with that knowing grin. âGuess your worst nightmare is here.â
You shove him back, rolling your eyes. âDonât make it worse.â
âToo late,â Seungkwan chirps. âNow, letâs get some tequila in your system.â
You head straight for the kitchen, not bothering with small talk. The music is too loud, the room too warm, and your head is already swimming with the thought of one thing: tequila. You pull the bottle off the shelf with the same speed as if itâs your lifeline, and without hesitation, you pour yourself a generous shot. No chaser. Just straight into your system.
Seungkwan eyes you carefully from the counter. âCareful,â he singsongs in your ear, his voice dripping with teasing. âThatâs what got you into this mess in the first place.â
You shoot him a sideways glance, the corners of your lips twitching upward. âShut up,â you mutter, then down the tequila like itâs water. The burn sears down your throat, and the warmth spreads through your chest almost immediately.
You reach for another shot whenâjust your fucking luckâVernon walks into the kitchen. His eyes land on you instantly, like he knew exactly where to find you. You want to swallow him wholeâno, just pretend he's not even hereâ but you know thatâs not going to happen.
âWow, look whoâs getting to the good stuff early,â Vernon says, voice as smooth as ever. His gaze flicks down to your hand around the bottle, and then right back up to your face, and something in his eyes makes you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.
Seungkwan shoots you a sideways look, his smirk turning even more mischievous. With a dramatic sigh, he pushes himself off the counter, clearly done with this conversation already. âAlright, well, have fun with that,â he says in a sing-songy voice, clearly aware of how uncomfortable this is getting. Then, he makes his exit, blowing you a mocking kiss from the doorway before disappearing into the living room.
You roll your eyes at his back, shooting him a silent curse with your eyes, but the moment Vernon steps forward, all that annoyance evaporates into something else entirely. Your focus is back on him, and that damn smirk on his face.
âDidnât know tequila was your thing,â Vernon says casually, leaning against the counter next to you. You move to pour another shot, but Vernon steps closer, cornering you against the counter with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face. The proximity is almost suffocating, and you feel your pulse spike in your neck, your heart pounding. You try not to make eye contact, your gaze fixed firmly on the bottle in your hand, as if it could somehow shield you from him.
Vernonâs smirk widens, and he leans in slightly. âYâknow, you need to look at me to make conversation,â he says, voice low and teasing.
Before you can even process whatâs happening, his hand slides under your jaw, his fingers gently but firmly lifting your chin until you have no choice but to meet his eyes.
Your breath hitches in your throat, and for a second, you forget to breathe. His eyes are almost burning into you, and you canât look awayânot that you want to.
For a second, you forget about everything. Your entire focus narrows to the guy standing in front of you, the guy whoâs been fucking with your head for over a week now. You try to focus, try to snap yourself out of it, but damnâhe looks good. Too good. That stupid backwards cap, the flannel shirt thatâs just loose enough, the way his jawline sharpens under the dim kitchen light. You swallow, trying to keep your cool, but fuck, heâs too close. Too damn close. You want to push him away, but the closeness has your body freezing, every nerve on edge.
Itâs the same feeling you had last week. And itâs happening again.
Fuck. No. This is not how itâs supposed to go.
Your mind races, trying to think of something, anything, to get out of this. Thenâlike a miracleâMingyu strolls by, not even realizing the chaos youâre trying to keep under control. You latch onto him like a lifeline.
âMingyu! HI!â you shout, ducking under Vernonâs arm and making a beeline for him. You grip his arm with a little too much force, probably dragging him away from whatever conversation he was having with someone else. He looks at you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, but you donât even give him a chance to ask why youâre acting like a madman.
âLong time no see! Letâs catch up!â you practically drag him out of the kitchen before Vernon can say anything, and Mingyu shoots a glance over his shoulder at you. He looks confused, but soon the music envelops you, and he happily throws an arm around your shoulder and pulls you onto the dance floor.
The music is a blur of bass and off-key notes, but the tequila in your system helps dull everything, smooths out the jagged edges of your thoughts. Mingyu is practically yelling in your ear, his voice way too loud for the volume of the song, but you canât help but laugh at his unrelenting enthusiasm. Heâs screaming the lyrics to some cheesy pop songâsomething from five years ago that you canât even remember the name ofâbut heâs grinning, and you canât help but mirror his energy. For a moment, the heat of the room and the chaos of the party become distant, fading into the background, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you forget about Vernon. You forget about everything.
Mingyu pulls you into a ridiculous spin, and you laugh, the sound lost in the music. His arm tightens around your shoulders as he twirls you back into his chest, but just as you feel yourself getting lost in the rhythm, your phone buzzes in your pocket. Itâs Seungkwan.
You swipe the screen without thinking, still caught in the whirl of the dance floor.
Boo đ: Â heâs staring at you
Your heart drops.
You freeze mid-spin, suddenly feeling too warm, too exposed, like youâre still back in that kitchen, caught between the tequila, the tension, and the pull of Vernonâs eyes. The phone screen flickers in your hand, but you donât even need to read the message again to know what it means. You know Seungkwanâs been watching the two of you dance around each other, and you know who he is. Vernonâs watching you. Heâs staring.
You glance over your shoulder instinctively, and thereâacross the room, leaning against the doorframeâis Vernon. That tantalizing smirk is still in place, like itâs carved into his face. His eyes are on you, not even trying to hide it, and that stupid look on his face says everything. The way he watches you makes your skin tingle, and the realization hits you harder than the tequila burn in your stomach.
âYo, you good?â Mingyuâs voice cuts through the noise, pulling you back to the present. You swallow hard, still trying to shake the feeling of Vernonâs gaze on you. You force a smile and nod, but all you can think about is the way Vernon is watching you.
âMingyu,â you murmur, grabbing his wrist, âI think I need a drink. Iâll be right back.â
Before he can protest, you make a beeline for the kitchen again, your feet moving quicker than you can process. You need space. You need air. The heat of the dance floor still clings to your skin, but itâs nothing compared to the suffocating feeling thatâs starting to build in your chest. The tequila's starting to wear off, but your nerves are still shot, and you canât get rid of the image of Vernon leaning against the doorframe, eyes fixed on you like heâs just waiting for you to make a move.
The kitchenâs quieter, the music a distant hum, and youâre almost grateful for the space, the absence of people. You grab the tequila bottle again, not caring if anyoneâs watching. You pour yourself another shot, but before you can even bring it to your lips, you hear footsteps approaching. You donât need to look up to know who it is.
âI think we should talk,â Vernonâs voice sounds closer than you expect. You try not to flinch, but you canât stop yourself from stiffening. You move to step away, but then his hand is on the counter next to you, trapping you in place. You donât want to look at him, not after everything thatâs happened.
âIâm serious,â he adds, tone shifting just slightly. Thereâs a quiet edge to his voice, a softness youâve never heard before, but it only makes you hesitate more.
You finally raise your gaze, and for the first time tonight, you meet his eyes. His smirk is still there, but thereâs something else tooâsomething you canât quite place.
âI donât want to talk to you right now,â you say, your voice lower than you intended.
Vernonâs eyes flicker for a moment, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face, but the momentâs gone too quickly. He chuckles lightly, not mocking, but with a sense of finality.
âFair enough.â He straightens up, taking a step back, giving you a little more space, but still standing there. âBut just so you knowâŠâ His voice softens again, the teasing replaced with something a little too sincere for your comfort. âIâm not going anywhere.â
Fuck. Thatâs it. You canât be here anymore.
You spin on your heel, heading straight for Seungkwan, whoâs been knee-deep in a Mario Kart championship with Soonyoung and Seokmin. The game is so intense that Seungkwan barely notices you storming up to him, too busy yelling at the screen as he tries to secure his victory.
âTime to go,â you say, your voice sharp enough that even Seungkwan canât ignore it.
He looks up from his game, a little confused. âWhat? We just GOT HERE!â
âTIME TO GO, SEUNGKWAN,â you hiss, a little louder this time, unable to mask the frustration thatâs bubbling up in your chest.
Seungkwan groans, annoyed that his Mario Kart dominance is being interrupted, but he stands up anyway, muttering something about the injustice of it all.
But then, like a fucking curse, Vernon appears in front of you, stepping into your path just as you try to make your exit. His presence feels almost too heavy in the moment, his gaze unrelenting as his lips curl into that same familiar smirk.
âLeaving so early?â he asks, voice laced with amusement, and his eyes lock on yours, steady and impossible to ignore. It makes your stomach flip, and you feel that heat in your cheeks you canât seem to get rid of.
You avoid his gaze, turning your face just enough to escape the intensity of it. âOh yeah, early morning,â you mumble, desperate to get out of there. âLots of stuff to do, classes and allâŠâ
Vernon tilts his head slightly, his smirk widening as if he can see right through your bullshit. âTomorrowâs Saturday,â he says, voice matter-of-fact, as if calling out your feeble excuse is somehow amusing to him.
Shit.
You try to force a smile through it, but it feels like itâs made of plastic, fake and thin. You avoid his gaze like itâs radioactive. âYeah, uh⊠just, you knowâokay, bye!â You nearly shove Seungkwan out the door before Vernon can say another word.
The second the door slams shut behind you, Seungkwan bursts out laughing, his voice loud in the quiet of the carpark.
âYouâre such a mess,â he cackles, still trying to catch his breath. âDid you seriously try to pull the early morning classes excuse? Like, no one knows tomorrowâs Saturday?â
You shoot him a middle finger, too tired to even care. âShut up, Seungkwan. Just drive.â
He laughs harder, but at least he doesnât push it further. Seungkwanâs car engine roars to life, and as he drives off, the weight of the night slowly lifts from your shoulders. But in the back of your mind, you can still feel Vernonâs eyes on you, like they never really left.
Dinner a week later is nothing fancyâjust some ramen you scrounged up after dragging yourself through another shit show of a week. The kitchen, warm and dimly lit by the overhead light, feels like a small refuge, and for a second, youâre fine with being here. The steam rising from your bowl swirls in the air, and you twirl the noodles absentmindedly, trying to ignore the weight of everything slowly settling over you.
Seungkwanâs sitting across from you, casually slurping his ramen, but thereâs something in the way his eyes flicker up, a strange glint in them, that makes you pause. The silence stretches for a moment, the kind that feels like itâs waiting for something, and then, as if he canât hold it in any longer, he drops the bomb.
âVernonâs coming over later.â
You freeze, a piece of noodle hanging from your chopsticks, your eyes wide. âWHAT?â You nearly choke on the noodles, the shock making you forget to swallow. âWhy the hell is he coming over? Are youâseriously?â
Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, lips curling into a grin that doesnât match his feigned innocence. âJust to study,â he says, shrugging like itâs the most casual thing in the world. âOur lab midterm is in a couple of days, and we canât figure out the damn ratios for the prelab.â
Your mind stutters, trying to catch up with what heâs saying. Vernon, your uncomfortably charming classmate, is coming here. Of course he is. âSeungkwan, you know Iââ You stop, frustrated, searching for words that arenât quite coming. This is your house, your space, and youâre already struggling with the thought of being alone with him. The awkward tension from the last few days suddenly feels so much heavier now.
Seungkwan, not missing a beat, looks over at you with a teasing grin. âHavenât you run away enough? Itâs been, like, almost two weeks.â Heâs got that smirk on his face again, the one that says he knows exactly what heâs doing, pushing all the right buttons to get you riled up.
You glare at him, trying to muster some kind of defense, but your words come out quieter than you expect. âIâm not running away,â you snap, though itâs weak. Itâs been two weeks of exactly that. âIâm justâbusy. You know, college stuff.â
Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, and you feel your resolve crumble under his knowing look. âYeah, sure. College stuff. Thatâs totally why youâve been dodging Vernon for the past week. Canât blame you thoughâguyâs got a way of making things... uncomfortable.â He chuckles at his own joke, but thereâs an edge of teasing that cuts too close to the truth.
You groan, rubbing your face in frustration. âStop making this worse.â
âHey, Iâm just saying,â Seungkwan shrugs, his grin widening. âHavenât you thought about actually talking to him? Itâs not like youâve got that much time before he shows up.â
âDonât remind me,â you mutter, then, more to yourself, âI didnât plan this. He didnât plan this. This is... This is all justââ You stop yourself, shaking your head, your words trailing off.
Seungkwan chuckles again, but this time, itâs softer, almost like heâs giving you space to breathe. âLook, Iâm just saying, maybe stop running away for once. Youâll figure it out.â He slaps you lightly on the back, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
But before you can even gather your thoughts, Seungkwanâs phone rings. He picks it up immediately, urgency lacing his voice, and youâre taken off guard.
âSeokmin?â He pauses, listening. âWhat? Is the fish⊠what? It canât breathe??â He gasps, standing up quickly. âIâll be right there, man, I swear! Iâm coming now!â
He hangs up, looking at you, his face twisting into exaggerated concern. âEmergency. Seokminâs fish is dying.â
You blink, disbelief painted on your face. âYouâre fucking joking. Youâre actually leaving me with Vernon? Alone?â
âYup!â Seungkwan says, already halfway to the door. âYouâre on your own, Y/N! Donât burn the place down!â His laugh echoes as he bolts out, leaving you standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring after him in utter disbelief.
Great. Just great.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rings. Your stomach does a flip, nerves bubbling in your chest. You almost consider pretending youâre not home, hiding in your bedroom until Vernon leaves. But thatâs childish, and you canât avoid this forever. With a sigh, you pull yourself to the door and open it, finding Vernon standing there, looking annoyingly comfortable with that goddamn grin on his face.
âHi,â he says, voice teasing but warm. âSo, Seungkwan tells me weâre doing some studying?â
You step aside to let him in. The last thing you want is to be rude, but the silence that follows as you both walk to the kitchen feels suffocating. You can practically feel the tension hanging in the air, thick with all the things youâve been avoiding. His presence lingers, like itâs always been there, and yet itâs different now.
Vernon leans against the counter casually, and you busy yourself with rearranging things on the counter, anything to avoid looking at him. You can feel his eyes on you, but you canât make yourself meet them. Every time you think about what happened, your heart races, and the words you said to him feel like a blur. But theyâre always there, hovering on the edge of your thoughts.
Finally, Vernon breaks the silence, his voice softer than before. âYouâve been avoiding me.â
You freeze. The air in the room seems to tighten, and his words land with the weight of a trap you didnât see coming.
âWhat?â You try to laugh it off, but the sound comes out rough, more strained than you intended. âPshhhh nooooo.â
âYou have.â Vernon pushes off the counter, stepping closer to you. His movements are deliberate, but thereâs a softness in them as he closes the space. His eyes remain locked on yours, steady and searching, like heâs waiting for you to crack, to finally admit something. You canât look away, your breath shallow, the pulse at your neck pounding hard. âAnd you canât even look me in the eye. Did I do something wrong?â
His voice is gentle, almost too gentle, and it makes your chest tighten. You shift uncomfortably, your arms folding across your body, a silent defense against the intensity of his gaze. The room feels smaller now, every inch of space filled with the heat between you. You feel trapped, your heart hammering in your chest, yet there's nowhere you'd rather beâand that's the problem.
âNo, Vern, I justââ You stop, sucking in a breath, trying to steady yourself. âI said something I didnât mean the other night.â
Vernonâs eyes narrow, a flicker of something in themârecognition, maybe? The way his lips part slightly, a mix of confusion and understanding. âYou didnât mean it?â
The words hit like a physical blow, and your stomach twists. You want to take them back, but instead, you find yourself retreating into yourself, avoiding his gaze. âIâwhat?â
âDid you mean it?â Vernon presses, and you swear you can feel his gaze like a weight on your skin. Heâs not backing off, not letting this go.
Youâre caught. You open your mouth, but no words come out, and the silence between you feels like itâs suffocating. You feel the heat rising to your face, your hands trembling by your sides.
âMean what?â you finally manage, voice quieter than youâd like.
He steps even closer now, his body inches from yours, and his gaze doesnât falter. His lips barely part as he speaks, the words lingering in the air between you. âDonât play dumb with me, Y/N. You told me you loved me.â
The room spins, the ground beneath you feeling unsteady. You blink, your chest tightening as the memory of that night rushes back, sharp and overwhelming. Your hands move restlessly, clutching at the counter as if itâll keep you from falling.
âBut I was drunkââ You stumble over the words, desperate to explain, but his gaze doesnât waver. His eyes are steady, unwavering, and you canât escape them.
âDrunk words are sober thoughts,â Vernon says softly, his voice firm, but thereâs no anger in itâonly a certainty that rattles you.
âI just didnât mean to put you on the spotââ You try again, but this time, he stops you, his tone more reassuring than you expect.
âYou didnât,â he says quietly, his hand reaching out, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face in a surprisingly tender gesture. âYou didnât put me on the spot.â
âOkay?â you ask, your voice uncertain. You canât tell if youâve just misunderstood everything or if this moment has shifted entirely. You blink at him, still trying to catch up.
Vernon smiles then, a soft, almost affectionate smile, and the air between you shifts. The tension eases just a little, but itâs still thick, like somethingâs hanging in the balance. âYou donât remember, do you?â
âNoâŠâ you whisper, the words coming out almost too quietly, but Vernon just laughs.
âI said I loved you too, idiot.â
You freeze. The words crash into your chest, and you feel the ground tilt beneath you again. This time, itâs harder to recover from. âYouâyou WHAT?â
Vernon chuckles, his grin widening, and this time, itâs teasing, almost mischievous. âCome on,â he says, stepping closer. His chest is almost brushing yours now. âI love you too. Can you stop running away now?â
âI WASNâT!â you protest, but the words fall flat, not convincing even yourself. Your body is tense, but his proximity makes your heart race in a way you donât quite understand.
âYou were,â Vernon says, his smirk softening just enough to catch you off guard. You feel your knees go weak at the way his gaze softens, like heâs pulling you into something youâre not sure youâre ready for. âBut it was kinda cute, yâknow?â
Before you can even think of a response, he's right there, too closeâlike, uncomfortably close. His presence feels like itâs swallowing up all the space between you, and suddenly, youâre backed up against the counter, like heâs somehow managed to get you cornered without even trying. Itâs all too familiar, too much like that night at the party. You canât help but stiffen, but itâs not bad, just... intense.
You can feel the heat radiating off him now, like itâs pulling you in, and the way heâs leaning in just enough that you canât help but tilt your head to meet his eyesâyour heart starts hammering in your chest. Too close. Way too close. Your body wants to take a step back, but you donât, mostly because youâre pretty sure youâre not even sure where to go from here.
And he knows it. You can see it in the way heâs standing, like he's completely unbothered, like itâs no big deal that heâs got you backed up into a corner. Your shoulders feel tense, but your feet just stay planted where they are, like theyâve been glued to the floor. His gaze locks with yours, and you can feel that pull, that thing that makes it hard to breatheâlike your chest is getting tight and youâre not sure if you want to run or stay.
Thereâs this low buzz in the air between you two, and you donât know how much of it is him or how much is just your heart freaking out. His breath is right there, close enough that youâre aware of the way it catches every time you look at him. And you canât even tell if youâre annoyed at how close heâs gotten or if your mind is too distracted by how nice it feels to have him this near.
Youâre trapped, but youâre not sure if you mind it. Itâs like your chest is about to burst from the tension, or maybe itâs going to stop completely. Either way, you're not entirely sure which one you're hoping for.
âNo more running,â he murmurs, his voice low, steady, eyes never leaving yours. Thereâs no doubt in his tone, no hesitation, like heâs already made up his mind. The space between you two feels charged now, the air thick with the unspoken.
âNo more running,â you echo, the words slipping out before you can stop them, and for the first time, they feel right. Youâre not sure why, but you believe it.
And then, Vernon leans in, his lips brushing against yours.
The kiss is slow, soft at first, like heâs giving you space to catch up. His lips are warm and a little sweet, tasting faintly of mint from the gum heâs been chewing earlier. You inhale through your nose, catching the subtle scent of his cologneâfresh, with a hint of wood and citrusâthat wraps around you like itâs always been there, like itâs familiar. Every part of him seems to make the world outside feel distant, unimportant. The tension, the uncertainty, the past few daysâthey donât matter anymore.Â
The pressure of his lips increases, more certain now, and the warmth of his mouth sends a flutter through you. You lean in, responding, your hand instinctively finding the chain around his neck, pulling him closer, as if you canât quite get enough of him. Itâs slow, deliberate, like he wants to savor it just as much as you do. For the first time in days, everything feels like itâs in its right place.
When he pulls back, itâs just enough to speak, his lips still lingering on yours. âYâknow,â he says with a playful grin, âWe couldâve been doing this two weeks ago if you werenât so emotionally constipated.â
You laugh, breathless, pulling him closer by his chain. The heat creeping up your neck is almost unbearable. âShut up,â you protest, half-smiling. âYou canât blame a girl for what she says when sheâs drunk.â
âI wonât,â he agrees with a smirk, kissing you again, this time a little more urgently. âBut I canât make any promises about Seungkwan.â
From the hallway, you hear Seungkwanâs unmistakable voice, a triumphant cheer echoing from the door.
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Johnny whoâs slowly making progress. Whose tremors in his hands are relaxing. Whoâs starting to be able to order food in public again without his stutter doubling over itself. There are still more days than not that heâs using the wheelchair more than the forearm crutches but even with that heâs accustomed to it enough that heâs got plenty of mobility.
Itâs been over two months that youâve been working with Johnny and heâs been thriving as well as a man in his condition can. He attributes this entirely to his god-sent Angel of a nurse. He wouldnât have gotten too far without you helping him through every stage. Having endless patience and compassion. Not a judgmental bone in your body.
So it comes as a complete shock when you ask him about having his sister or one of the team come up in two weeks because you have to take a shift back at the hospital.
âWhy would you n-need that hen?â Johnny's voice is strained despite the joking tone he tries to lighten it up with. âNeeding more funds? Am I n-not paying you well?â
You just shake your head, back turned to him while you section out his meds for the week. Unable to see the mounting anxiety in his face.
âOh, donât worry about my money. I just need to work on the floor every four months or I have to get reorientated. Itâs just more convenient so that when I leave I have a job right away.â
âAlready thinkinâ bout leaving me hen?â
You just rolled your eyes at the comment, having gotten to the point of being casual with Johnny weeks ago.
âOnly so many football games I can listen to Johnny before I start to go mad. Try changing it up to hockey or baseball once n a while.â You slot the bottles back into the cabinet and the pill box on the counter for easy access. âSo itâll only be two days Iâll be gone and I can get everything set up beforehand. That sound good?â
You look over to him expectantly and Johnny doesnât have the heart to say no to you.Â
No, he canât do that yet. Thatâll freak you out. Get some big reaction. He needs to get you to make the decision to stay on your own.
......
Everything just seemed to go downhill so fast. Relapsing back into previous conditions.
Every other word evaded him to the point of forcing himself into a stewed, annoyed silence from being unable to just get a damn sentence out without âsounding like an engine about to give out.â
Waking up to a hard thump and groaning, sending you padding out into the dark hallway only to find Johnny on the ground, forearm crutches on the floor right beside him. Quickly stammering out that he thought he could make it to the bathroom without the wheelchair. He normally does this is just a one off please donât fuss over him hen-
You having to strip off his shorts to apply moist pads to his thighs after heâd spilled steaming hot coffee on himself. His hands shook too bad to slide under the waistband. He kept apologizing with a look of frustration on his face. Brows furrowed and teeth bared with a hiss of pain yet eyes soft with humiliation as you kept reassuring him that it was okay. This was your job. You were there to take care of him.
He always tries to keep that light tone of his, joking about independence and no longer having a babysitter one day. It makes you want to believe him but the bitterness and scorn in his eyes when seeing even his buddies come by is palpable.Â
Even the fun of watching football is sucked out when his brain contorts to see the men as comparisons to his own state. Functional men.
Men that you would never leave, men that you would willingly cling to, men so unlike him.
âŠ..
Johnnyâs therapist takes you aside before one of the sessions, asking about the sudden change in Johnnyâs progress. If there were any triggers you could remember.
And you shouldâve said something. Confessed that the trigger of Johnnyâs worsening was the perceived threat of you leaving. But you didnât. Because if you did then flags would be raised about the inappropriate boundaries being crossed between caretaker and patient and you would be removed from Johnnyâs care. And that just would make his recovery worse.Â
You were doing the right thing, right? You were just looking out for Johnnys well-being.
#reading week!#yknow what that means#rereading service dog johnny to feel something#theres also that new kyle fic to crack into#big plans yall#141#cod mw2#john soap mactavish#soap x reader#soap x you#soap cod
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Every single vote FOR Trump and every single abstention shares blame. And once there are enough deaths (which there probably will be considering the two wars I know about and afghanistan, never mind what comes next for lgbt+ and poc and other minorities and women and next in general) in the end you will have a kill count. 1/72millionth of a blame for the actual voters still means 72 million deaths in, you are personally responsible for one whole death.
I hope that knowledge sinks into your bones, knowing thereâs a death on your conscious that could have been prevented. I hope you learn from it, and I hope you regret. I hope you decide to change and protect whatâs left of the people your vote put in danger. I hope you grow and can pass on information to the next generation.
And if youâre laughing at that, saying thereâs no way it will get that bad, take a good look around. How many people around you are terrified? How many people are despairing? How many people have stopped talking about politics entirely and are keeping a distance from you?
Thereâs been a 200% increase in lgbt+ calls to a suicide hotline, mentioning the election as a trigger.
Searches in how to move abroad have increased over a thousand percent since the election.
Thereâs been an increase in hate crimes already, and it hasnât even been a full week since the election was called.
People are terrified for themselves and their families. That should mean something to you, when you look around, that people are considering death or abandoning the country they were born in because of who was just elected. It should mean something that innocent people are being threatened. And this is probably just the beginning.
You chose this. Youâre not allowed to look away from the consequences of your actions.
The "if you voted for Trump unfollow me" posts are returning, but given then general makeup of your average tumblr user I think there's a different message I'd like to give.
If you didn't vote because "both parties are the same" or "it won't make a difference" or because Kamala wasn't the pure and perfect leader that you wanted or you "didn't want blood on your hands", honestly whether or not you follow me doesn't make a damned bit of difference. But I want you to look. Take a good look at the despair around you right now. And every godforsaken thing that follows I want you to fucking look. Look and know that you could have helped prevent it. We still haven't recovered from his last four years, the world hasn't fucking recovered, and now we're staring down the barrel of god knows how many more years and a river of fucking blood to come along with it.
But your pride and your principles were more important to you than the actual real fucking world we live in.
I hope, if nothing else, that you can take this in. I hope you learn. I hope you grow. I hope you find it in you to realize that in this country they soak our hands in blood the second we take our first breath and the only thing that matters then is what you fucking do with them. What you fight for. Who you fight for. Who you defend.
I hope you wake up. And you step up. And you fucking fight.
But until then. Don't you fucking dare look away.
#silence is complicity when lives are on the line#project 2025#2024 elections#if we donât learn history it will be repeated#learning#do not look away#you donât get to look away for the harm you caused#learn and grow#blood on your hands#blame is shared in a democracy#step up for peopleâs rights#hate crimes#stop hate crimes#stay alive
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Playing chess with Dottore in the akademiya days and NEVER winning becauseâŠ.hes a genius ! And he didnât understand the concept of letting others win to make them feel good.
He still thinks the concept is silly, if anything heâs helping you by continuing to challenge your mindâŠbut when he sees fragile reader super down about their mental stateâŠhe finally understands what letting someone else win means.
Of course reader knows he let them win. They couldnât beat him in the akademiya when they were sick, they canât now . But itâs the thought that counts đ©”
Dottore was never one to be thrilled about wasting time with silly games, even when it came to ones that tested the mind such as chess. It held more appeal when he was a boy, still learning the rules and playing against himself (and perhaps the Aranara). Now he can just win against practically anyone nearly effortlessly so it doesn't hold much of a brain tease for him. Even when you come along... you're still getting obliterated.
No special privileges, unfortunately... not even his darling lover. It got to the point where you nearly set off the dorm's smoke alarm as you were too engrossed in deciding your next move while Zandik was absorbed in his book (literally investing a couple of percent of his energy into this, some more at stealing glances at your pretty, focused face, idly wondering if he should start charging for you these silly games.) He would always think you're overreacting if you get pouty about not winning once, after all, it was merely a game. And he was being rather generous indulging you... he went as far as to give you tips and hints! Helping you evolve your play!
Still, with time comes maturity and understanding, and his current self is a stark difference from his past one. Dottore's not dumb, and as distant from his humanity as he seems to be, seeing you down troubles him to say the least. He doesn't show it on his face, but his mind constantly runs through a checklist for possible things to cheer you up on bad days.
And with that... the Doctor learns. Technically he is always seeking knowledge to further his experiments, but... learning for the sake of someone else is different. It's tender. It's strange. It's not really him. But he still learns, he remembers, and he acts. If letting you win and have your way manages to cheer you up, then why would he deny it? His loss would be something forgotten by him soon enough. For you, you'd remember that win and happy feeling forever. He's analyzed his choices - it's worth it. (A bunch of scholarly talk just to boil down to he loves you and wishes to see you well.)
To give him some credit, he'd make his loss as convincing as a man like him could anyway. Making you think and work for it so you feel better about winning. You still wouldn't fall for it but you appreciate Dottore putting in the effort to make you feel good about yourself. The beautiful lie of his feigned surprise and praise makes you know that despite his flaws, deep down he'll always make sure you'll be okay, maybe not today, but one day.
#smooches talks#dottore love notes <3#fragile reader <3#THIS IS SO CUTE I EXPLODED... I LOVE HIM SM.. so real for this anon. 100/10#i needed this FR. theres just too much going on rn#i was giggling bc i once wrote something the opposite of this (doter cant beat fragile reader in chess) <3#this is more realistic for me bc idk how to play chess still but he can teach me <33#actually this reminded me of when id play imessage/game pigeon chess with my friend and she'd destroy me everytime bc i didnt know what was#going on
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been thinking long and hard abt soda and what it did to him to drop out of high school (i also feel bad bc somehow the only fics i have abt soda are all ships and i know i can do better for my boy)
so hereâs a quick lil thing abt darry and soda after soda dropped out :p
darry couldnât remember the last time soda had been this upset. even after their parents died, there were moments when the gang was all together and soda could laugh and feel the littlest bit normal again, but this felt like it was never going to end, and there was no reprieve. there was no end in sight, and darry couldnât do anything to help him.
his grades had been going downhill for a while. it wasnât his fault, or at least not entirely. it had been years since soda had done alright in school on his own instead of barely scraping by, and at some point the class had left him behind and it was like they started speaking another language.
and then their parents died.
soda already had enough trouble missing one day of school, let alone missing a week while they tried to throw together a funeral.
a month after their parents had died, after far too many nights at the kitchen table crying over math homework, after screaming matches that shook the roof over his grades, after darry had yelled so many times about how failing out of school was a surefire way to get them sent to a boyâs home, soda finally said that he was dropping out of school.
he could barely leave his room after telling darry, he couldnât even tell ponyboy himself. he didnât know what to do with himself, battling with his own mind every hour of the day. thoughts bouncing around his head of feeling like a failure for not even being able to graduate high school, bullying himself over not being able to joke around about it or making other people happy, which felt like maybe the only thing he was good at anymore. he knew that he was going to fail out eventually, so what was the point?
âsoda?â darry cracked the door open, his eyes landing on his little brother where he had been for the last three days: curled up in bed, his back to the door. âdo you want some dinner?â
soda silently shook his head.
darry sighed, âyou canât stay in here, forever, pepsi. we miss you out there.â
soda didnât give much of a response, just gave a half hearted shrug.
âlisten,â darry let himself into the room, sitting down on the bed and bringing a hand up to rub sodaâs back. âi know you feel lousy, and i know youâve got a lot on your mind, but youâve gotta get back to living, soda. youâve just gotta. we couldnât get along without you.â
soda rolled over and sat up, and darry had to swallow a gasp at the state of his brother. sodaâs eyes were rubbed raw and angry red from crying with deep shadows stamped under them, his hair was sticking up at all angles from the grease he hadnât washed out in days, and his clothes were wrinkled and hanging loosely off of him.
âsodaâŠâ
darry could hardly get the word out before soda had thrown himself at his big brother, tears starting up again. god, he was so tired of crying.
âiâm so sorry,â he cried miserably, clutching to darry with everything he had in him.
darry felt the tears hit his shoulder and his heart ached for his little brother, âi know, i ainât mad at you, honey.â
âmom and dad just wanted me to graduate and i couldnât even do that! how am i supposed to do anything if i canât do that?â soda sobbed.
âtheyâre not mad at you either, baby, donât say that,â darry could feel tears prickling in his own eyes.
âlisten, i donât care if youâre lyinâ to me,â soda leaned back, his eyes not meeting darryâs. âbut can you please tell me itâs gonna be okay.â
darry felt like he had missed a step going down stairs with the way the words made his stomach drop. he grabbed sodaâs face in his hands and forced his brother to look at him.
âitâs gonna be okay, baby. i donât know when and i donât know how but i promise you, weâre gonna be okay. iâm gonna make sure we are.â
he wasnât sure soda believed him, and maybe he didnât even fully believe himself, but he had made a promise, and he had every intention of making good on it. some of the tension soda had been holding in his shoulders seemed to melt away, and darry knew he would be okay with saying everything over and over again if it meant soda didnât have to be so scared.
âthank you⊠i know you hate lying to us.â
âi wasnât lying.â
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The Cost of Protection [Yandere elf guard x Fem Reader] 18+ Chapter #2
Hoi! Hasn't it been forever? I got the bug again for this boy, and I think maybe Korm :> a little part #2, and I have #3 in the making for later this week! Thank you for all the asks. You are the people I wanted to make this for! approx 1,570 words Warnings: Non-con/kissing/ some violence, obsessive treatment, death threats. As always, I do not endorse relationships like this. It is just for fun! Please do not read in a rough state of mind.
A bitter chill clung to Barovia as you stepped out from your tavern, coin pouch clasped tightly in hand. Hope was scarce in these lands, but you held onto the thought of escaping Maverickâs grasp, even if it was just for a few hours of peace. The market streets were eerie in the early morning light, deserted but for a few drifting souls, hollow-eyed and battered by the bleakness of life under Strahdâs rule. You made your way to the stalls, intending to pick up a few supplies, something fresh and maybe something to brighten up the tavern. Your hand was already reaching for the vendorâs apples when you felt a rough tug at your waist, and before you could react, your coin pouch was gone. You spun around, catching sight of the thiefâs shadow darting around a corner. âStop! Come back here!â you yelled, but your voice barely echoed in the empty streets, swallowed by the mist and despair that never lifted in Barovia. Swallowing your pride, you made your way to the nearest guard post. Two Barovian guards lounged by the door, their eyes cold and bored as they watched your approach. You took a breath, trying to calm your nerves before speaking.
âPlease, I need help,â you began, voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it louder would make the shame sting more. One guard sneered, his gaze sliding over you with disdain and dark interest. He stepped closer, grabbing the fabric of your shirt between his rough fingers and pulling you nearer, his breath hot against your cheek. âI can think of a way you might earn some help, sweetheart,â he murmured, his grin twisting with something sinister. Before you could protest, the second guard nudged him with a sigh. âNah, sheâs Maverickâs girl,â he muttered, giving you an appraising look. âHeâll be pissed if we touch her. Go crawl back to him if you want help so bad.â They shoved you off, sending you stumbling back a step as they laughed, their voices fading into the mist. Gritting your teeth, you stomped your foot in frustration. âBastards,â you spat under your breath. Straightening your shirt, you tried to collect yourself, brushing off their words as you turned back toward your tavern. Back inside, you searched through your small collection of trinkets, fingers grazing over rings and pendants, hoping youâd stashed away enough to sell and make up for the lost coins. But just as you reached into the drawer, you felt a cold sensation on your thighâthe hilt of a sword lifting the edge of your skirt. âHmm⊠black today,â a familiar, chilling voice purred from behind. âTrying to shut someone out?â You jumped, spinning around, pressing yourself against the wall as your heart hammered in your chest. There he was, Maverick, still in his guard uniform, looking every bit the devil with that smirk across his face. âI heard you had some trouble today, little bunny.â His voice was low, dripping with mock sympathy, as he set down a small pouch on the table beside you. Your pouchâthe one that had been stolen. But now, it was splattered with minor, fresh stains of blood. âA gift,â he purred, drawing closer, his golden eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction. Before you could respond, his arms closed around you, trapping you in an iron embrace. You tried to twist away, hands pushing at his chest, but his grip was unyielding. âPlease⊠let go,â you whimpered, your voice trembling as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your neck. âNo,â he replied, voice heavy with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. His teeth sank into your shoulder, the sharp pain blossoming as you felt his teeth break the skin. You screamed, the sound filling the small room as blood seeped from the wound, trailing down your chest in warm rivulets. He groaned, his breath hitching with sick satisfaction as he licked the blood from your skin, his hold tightening, crushing you against him. You struggled, pushing, desperate to escape, but his grip grew firmer, his amusement rumbling against your skin. He pulled back, his face inches from yours, a twisted smile playing on his bloodstained lips. âRemember this, little bunny,â he murmured, his voice soft, almost affectionate. âYouâre mine. No one else is allowed to touch you, help you, or save you. You belong to me.â
Maverickâs fingers grazed over your collarbone, the roughness of his touch stark against the soft skin heâd just marred. His gaze bore into yours, a wicked satisfaction glinting in those golden eyes, watching for every hint of your reaction. You held your breath, your pulse racing as he drew closer, his lips brushing your jawline, his voice a low whisper. âDo you understand, little bunny?â he murmured, his tone carrying an unsettling gentleness that only heightened your discomfort. You clenched your fists, refusing to give in to the sway of his words. Your body tensed as you pushed against him, struggling to twist out of his grasp. But he didnât budge, his hand pressing against the small of your back, holding you in place with an ease that both frustrated and frightened you. âStop fighting me,â he purred, his voice soft but commanding, his hand slipping from your back to trace the curve of your hip. You squirmed under his grip, a fierce glare on your face as you met his eyes. âLet go of me,â you hissed, anger masking the flickers of betrayal that your body was beginning to reveal. Heat rose to your skin as his touch lingered, his fingers pressing into you with a possessive intensity that sent unwanted shivers down your spine. You fought the reaction, the betrayal of your body, the way your skin seemed to tingle under his touch despite every protest in your mind. âWhy must you resist?â he murmured, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of hesitation and rebellion in your stance. His hands traced down, capturing your wrists, pinning them against the wall beside your head, his face mere inches from yours. âDonât pretend you donât feel it,â he whispered, his breath hot against your cheek. His grip tightened, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. Every inch of your body seemed to betray you, the warmth of his touch igniting sensations youâd instead have denied, your pulse quickening even as you struggled to pull away. He leaned in, his mouth ghosting over your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers along your skin. âYouâre mine,â he said again, his voice soft but unyielding. His hand moved, tracing the lines of your body with a dark reverence, savoring the tension, the resistance, the way your breath caught with every touch. You fought the sensations, the rebellion in your mind conflicting with the stir of warmth spreading through you, your bodyâs involuntary response only fueling the twisted satisfaction in his gaze. He leaned closer, his hands trailing down your sides, his touch both rough and reverent, as if claiming each part of you with a dark insistence. âSee, even your body understands,â he murmured, his fingers pressing into you with deliberate slowness, his gaze never leaving yours. Despite every struggle and protest, you couldnât deny how your pulse raced under his touch, the heat rising against your will. He grinned, having enough, and pushed you down, falling to your ass when he had you mesmerized. âNow. Show me how thankful you are, bunny, for me helping you.â the fabric on his pants was rough and slightly dirty from the mud as your cheek was rubbed with this clothed cock. He lets out a shivering moan. âso softâŠbut I want to feel something softer.â
You start shaking and crying as you feel his veins and skin sliding in and out of your mouth, young and then lips in a popping noise. He is not as gentle as when he first started clear. A need inside him was burning, screaming to get out, and your mouth would take the punishment of it. Every thrust of your head bounced painfully at the wall, you let out a cry, and he gets rougher now, grabbing your hair and dragging you back and forth. The worst part is. Not that you canât breathe. Not the pain in your head. But the warm, dizzy feeling in your head and theâŠwarmth dripping on your legs. The room spun, fear blurring your vision as his words sank in, the weight of your captivity closing in, suffocating and inescapable as you felt his cum down your throat. "Mine"
#yandere thoughts#yandere writing#yandere x reader#yandere smut#yandere#yandere x you#tw: yandere#yandere boy#tw non con#yandere d&d#COS#curse of strahd fan fiction#dark themes#yandere elf
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There absolutely is a core of racist, sexist, christo-fascists behind Trump. They were enthusiastically behind trump in 2016 and 2024 when he won, but they were still just as enthusiastically behind him in 2020 when he lost. What put Trump back into office was not an overwhelmingly fascist electorate, not support for his policies or a major rightward swerve of the US population in their principles.
Remember that 'did Joe Biden drop out?' was a trending google search on election night. USAmericans as a whole did not vote on policies, they weren't even aware of them. In blind surveys of the policies the campaigns ran on Kamala's were consistently preferred by a wide margin. In surveys that ask the US population to choose between only two options of mass deportation or mass amnesty for undocumented immigrants the latter wins. Not by nearly as much as I would like, but it does. While some state measures that would have defended abortion access failed in this election, others succeeded, and we have seen such measures succeed even in very red states. The population as a whole overwhelmingly supports same sex marriage rights, and a majority say that trans people are unduly discriminated against. Medicare for all is consistently the most popular proposal to how to deal with the failings of the US health care system with every demographic including republicans.
Yes there are way too many fascists in the United States, but not enough to have enacted fascism on their own. The majority of even Trump voters did not intentionally vote for fascism, and they won't like it when they get it. Again, yes, there are fascists who do want what's coming, but the majority of the American people didn't vote for Trump, they voted against, or just refused to vote for, the status quo. And all Democrats offered was a perpetuation of that status quo.
In a year that has seen some of the most vociferous anti-war protests across college campuses since Vietnam, Kamala campaigned with Liz Cheney and boasted about 'the most lethal military in the world' while offering unconditional support for Netanyahu's unpopular and genocidal war.
In a time when the US labor movement has been more active than we've seen in generations, after years of massive wealth inequality and corporate price gouging driving the price of food and housing through the roof, the Harris campaign's major economic policy was tax cuts for small businesses owners.
Instead of pushing back against the bullshit narrative that immigrants are bad for the economy or cause crime or take up public resources - all provable lies - and offering sensible policies like an open system for migratory work visas & a pathway to citizenship for undocumented people already here, the Harris campaign reinforced those lies by saying 'we're going to get even tougher on the boarder' - as though anyone who actually believed that would be a good thing wouldn't be voting for Trump anyway.
After four years of unpopularity and dissatisfaction for Biden and internal Democratic polling showing Biden was going to lose the election in the kind of red sweep that ushered in Ronald Reagan, and after an initial surge of momentum for Kamala specifically because she wasn't Biden, she then did everything she could to say she would be exactly the same as him, that she wouldn't have done anything different in the last four years if she had been in charge.
The majority of the country has seen their standard of living actively decline during Biden's administration. It doesn't matter that the causes weren't specifically his fault, it doesn't matter that the US happened to decline less quickly in those years than other major nations, it doesn't matter that the administration did some things that were actually good, or that they tried to do things that would have made more of a difference but were blocked by republicans in congress and the courts, or that Trump's policy proposals would and now will make everything actively worse. An incumbent government CANNOT win a fair election in those conditions, ESPECIALLY not if they only run on more of the same, ESPECIALLY not if they spend a BILLION DOLLARS trying to court the other side while telling their own base to EAT SHIT.
Trump didn't win because he ran a great campaign. He didn't win because he's an effective speaker or debater or a good candidate or had popular policies. He didn't win because the United States is just a racist, sexist country flat out - there are way too many racists and sexists in the country but not nearly enough to win on their own. He didn't win because of third party voters or young people being just too lazy to vote. He didn't win because too many principled leftists refused to vote for the lesser evil. He didn't win because of jews, or hispanics, or black men, or LGBTQ people, or any other minority demographic the liberal establishment wants to blame - as if carving off and ostracizing even more of their base could somehow get them more votes instead of less. Trump won because the party that was supposed to represent the interests of workers sold out to capital thirty fucking years ago and never looked back even once no matter how bad things got in the time since.
Donald Trump won because neoliberalism failed, and the people know it failed - they can feel it from their bones to their pocketbooks. Donald Trump was the only one offering an alternative. It's an alternative for the worse, and what's coming next will be extremely bleak. But I refuse to blame a frog that jumps out of the pot to escape a sure death in the boiling broth for failing to consider the fire beneath it.
Thereâs not too much point in talking about the election anymore, but I think some people are misconstruing the results. 21% of the American population voted for trump. He won the popular vote with polls only recording a 43.7% approval rating, and he has never held an approval rating over 50%, something that Biden and (arguably) Harris have. He lost millions of votes from 2020 to 2024, itâs just that Harris lost millions more.
All this is to say that there is not some ïżœïżœïżœsilent majorityâ of trump supporters in America. While some people will definitely be emboldened in their rhetoric and action by the results of the election, Trump was a deeply unpopular president, and is shaping up to be one again. He will enact unpopular policies that are against the will of the average American, but that doesnât mean every American is out to get you. Engage with your local community, check in on loved ones, and maybe even take a look at local political offices in the coming few years. If you dislike the two party system, volunteer or donate to a third party. Itâs altogether likely we see another 2022 situation, resentment grows further against the Republican Party, and the midterms offer a lot of opportunity to alternatives, at every level of government.
It may all feel like the end, but itâs not. Weâve been through it before, and no matter what we do, hate and ignorance will bleed through the cracks in society again in the future. Itâs going to get better, but thatâs easier to say if we make it better.
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Centrist Democrats are slamming their far-left colleagues following Election Day, arguing that their emphasis on "identity politics" and other issues handed huge victories to the GOP.
Rep. Ritchie Torres, D-N.Y., argued that President-elect Trump has "no greater friend than the far left." Like-minded Democrats say racial politics, anti-police rhetoric and gender hysteria are alienating millions of voters.
"There is more to lose than there is to gain politically from pandering to a far left that is more representative of Twitter, Twitch, and TikTok than it is of the real world," Torres wrote on X. "The working class is not buying the ivory-towered nonsense that the far left is selling."
Longtime Democratic strategist James Carville put it more bluntly in a Sunday interview with the New York Times, calling "defund the police" the "three stupidest words in the English language."
"We could never wash off the stench of it," he said.
Torres is one of several Democratic lawmakers in both the House and the Senate who have called out his party's "nonsense." One centrist House Democrat complained to Axios on Monday that the "identity politics stuff is absolutely killing us."
Sen. Chris Murphy, D-Conn., argued on Sunday that Democrats are "out of touch with the crisis of meaning/purpose fueling MAGA."
"We don't listen enough; we tell people what's good for them. And when progressives like Bernie aggressively go after the elites that hold people down, they are shunned as dangerous populists. Why? Maybe because true economic populism is bad for our high-income base," Murphy wrote.
Not all Democrats are ready to make a change, however. When Rep. Seth Moulton, D-Mass., broke with his party to condemn biological males playing in women's sports last week, he faced an avalanche of hate.
"Democrats spend way too much time trying not to offend anyone rather than being brutally honest about the challenges many Americans face," Moulton said in a New York Times report. "I have two little girls, I donât want them getting run over on a playing field by a male or formerly male athlete, but as a Democrat Iâm supposed to be afraid to say that."
The statement resulted in calls for Moulton to resign, and at least one of his staffers quit in protest.
Massachusetts state Rep. Manny Cruz suggested Moulton's stance was "a betrayal" in a post on X.
"Congressman Moulton, your commitment then was protecting the LGBTQ community, standing up for their rights, and compassion. Now, on a political whim, our Congressman has betrayed the words he signed onto just last year by scapegoating transgender youth in sports for the failures of the national Democratic Party and leaders to win the presidential election. You said you 'would stand with Nagly and with all our community ⊠against all forms of bigotry, discrimination, bullying, and harassment,'" Cruz wrote.Â
Salem city Councilor Kyle Davis, another Democrat, called for Moulton to resign.Â
"Iâm not looking for an apology from [Moulton], Iâm looking for a resignation," Davis wrote in a post on X.
Moulton refused to apologize and instead doubled down in a statement late last week.
"I will fight, as I always have, for the rights and safety of all citizens. These two ideas are not mutually exclusive, and we can even disagree on them. Yet there are many who, shouting from the extreme left corners of social media, believe I have failed the unspoken Democratic Party purity test," he said.
"We did not lose the 2024 election because of any trans person or issue. We lost, in part, because we shame and belittle too many opinions held by too many voters and that needs to stop. Letâs have these debates now, determine a new strategy for our party since our existing one failed, and then unite to oppose the Trump agenda wherever it imperils American values."
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november 7 2024 @ hurricanes, 5-1 loss
not a lot to say about this game, sheesh. i WAS told that geno spent a lot of time during breaks in play yapping with kris, there was at least once instance where he was skating around ignoring the world and sid wouldn't stop staring at him, AND during warmups they were basically skating on top of each other in the corners by the net. but. not a lot to work with here, score some goals guys!!!!
so with the absolute bones they gave us to work with....we're taking a soulbond universe break and incorporating one of the asks i got when i requested quick-hit smut prompts last week. almost ALL of them were mustache-related, and there were two specific ones i want to revisit later, but for today....
Zhenya absolutely loathes playing in Carolina.
He hates playing the Hurricanes sort of as a general rule; every win against them for the last few seasons feels like more blind luck than an actual earned victory, and Jordy ran through his 2009 Stanley Cup goodwill years ago. But playing in Carolina, with their stupid slushy ice and the ice-cold visitorâs locker room and whatever the fuck a storm surge is, has to be near the top of Zhenyaâs least favorite away-game experiences.
And add in the talent discrepancy in their two teams this year? Zhenya isnât having a good time.
When the horn blares for another goal against, Zhenya winces and squeezes his stick. He knew what he was getting himself into; he and Sid had talked about it extensively over the summer, whenever Zhenya called to check in on how the slow grind of Sidâs extension was going.Â
They werenât going to be a good team this year. If they got into the playoffs, it would be by an unexpected run of luck and health, and there is not a single matchup in the league theyâd be favored in even if they get that far. Sid and Zhenyaâs job now, essentially, is to work with their young guys, help them develop and insulate them from the worst of the attentions of the opposing teams, and keep pushing for personal milestones.
Zhenya knows that. Heâs accepted it, in theory. That doesnât make blown leads and blowout losses any easier to bear in the moment.
âHey,â Sid says, leaning toward him. Zhenya instinctively bends down, putting his ear close to Sidâs mouth as Sid holds his glove up just in case the cameras are on them.
Just in case. The cameras are always on them, especially since theyâre playing on a line for now. At least thatâs working out well, and Zhenya has someone next to him on the bench to nudge when someone fucks up spectacularly.
âDonât look so crabby,â Sid continues, garbled through his mouthguard. âKeep a happy face for the rest of the game and Iâll make it worth your while tomorrow before the game.â
Zhenya stills, turning his head. Sidâs face is very close, and when he catches Zhenyaâs eye he deliberately licks his lips. His mustache makes his jaw look sharp, and his eyes are intent on Zhenyaâs face.
âLunch with Tanger,â Zhenya says, watching Sidâs mouth as Sid draws away from him and drops his hand.
âCancel,â Sid says casually, like itâs hardly even a consideration.
Heâs right. Tanger bitches at Zhenya as they skate around during the next commercial break, but not seriously enough for Zhenya to actually feel bad. They both like the sushi place better for dinner anyway.
Sid and Zhenya go right to sleep when they get to the hotel in DC. As sanguine as they both are about the state of their team these days, a loss that bad is still deflating, and neither of them are even up for their usual debrief as they get ready for bed.
Sid does chivvy Zhenya into the shower, though. They both rinsed off after the game, but rink showers are always suspect, and the hot spray as Zhenya massages shampoo into Sidâs scalp is soothing.
Sid is thorough when he soaps Zhenya off, which makes him flush. Sid only winks at him, though, then busies himself with drying off and getting into his pajamas.
It takes a while for Zhenya to drift off, but eventually the visions of flubbed passes and blocked shots fade, and he falls into sleep to the sound of Sidâs gentle snores.
When he wakes up, itâs not to his alarm.
âCâmon,â Sid says, shoving at Zhenyaâs side once Zhenyaâs blinked himself to consciousness. âGet off me and get on your stomach.â
It takes Zhenya a second, but once the English penetrates and translates itself, he moves quickly, rolling off where heâd been practically plastering Sid into the mattress all night and spreading out, grabbing a pillow and turning his head to the side.
Sidâs stretched out next to him, eyes flickering over Zhenyaâs body, and Zhenya preens, arching his back a little to draw Sidâs eyes down. Heâd put in a lot of work over the summer to get his skating back to where he wanted it to be, and it shows in his back and ass, something Sid has been loudly appreciative of since they came back for camp.
âYou want it bad,â Sid mutters, and Zhenya would roll his eyes at Sidâs lame dirty talk, but he does want it, so instead he just spreads his legs and shifts, rubbing his hardening dick against the soft sheets.
âSid,â he says impatiently, and that gets Sid moving down the mattress, settling himself between Zhenyaâs legs.
His grip on Zhenyaâs ass is firm, and Zhenya clenches, feeling Sidâs fingers dig into his muscles in response.Â
The first scrape of Sidâs facial hair against Zhenyaâs hole gets him gasping into his pillow.
Zhenya canât grow facial hair, not really. He dutifully went along with the stupid playoff beard tradition during the back-to-backs, but otherwise any stubble he ends up with is incidental, borne of laziness and skin too sensitive to shave clean on any given day. He doesnât grow it well anyway, so thereâs never been much of a point.
Sid used to not grow very good facial hair either. Zhenyaâs life was perhaps more peaceful back then.
The thing with the mustache is it hurts. Sidâs facial hair is bristly and coarse, and it rubs Zhenya raw when they kiss. Heâd had a rash all over his groin after they won the cup in 2009 and Sid blew him back behind Marioâs pool house during the party; Flower noticed the next day and brought it up to make fun of them for years. Itâs uncomfortable to deal with in gear, even with the ointments and lotions they keep trying, and it stings under the hot water.
Zhenya loves it, though.
Sidâs tongue on his hole is warm and wet and good, but itâs the scratch of his mustache around Zhenyaâs rim that makes him cry out and squirm. Sidâs good with his mouth, just as good as all the fans in Philly used to jeer at him and then some, and Zhenya loves when Sid eats him out any day of the year, but in November the added sensation makes him come so fast it would be embarrassing if it didnât feel so good.
And because Sid is a possessive freak, he likes how Zhenya winces after, the way he shifts in discomfort on the bench and walks funny to avoid friction. He likes marking Zhenya up, likes knowing that Zhenya can still feel him days later.
With the way heâs gripping Zhenyaâs ass to hold him open, Zhenya wonât be surprised if he has bruises to go along with the beard burn.
Sid leans back and spits on Zhenyaâs hole, loud and wet and filthy in the morning quiet of the room, and Zhenya flinches, hides his face and groans as his dick twitches where itâs trapped between his body and the bed.
âMessy,â Sid says approvingly before he gets his face back into Zhenyaâs ass. He pulls on Zhenyaâs hips, and Zhenya obligingly cants them back, tensing his thighs to lift his lower back and give Sid the angle heâs looking for.
The burn in his muscles, the scrape of Sidâs mustache, Sidâs tongue in his ass, all of it is sensory overload, and Zhenya barely has to sneak a hand down under himself and squeeze the head of his dick before heâs coming, shoving his ass back into Sidâs face and riding his tongue through his orgasm.
He whines when Sid pulls away, tries to turn onto his back to get at Sidâs dick, but Sid smacks his ass once, so Zhenya stays put, keeps his back arched, and listens as Sid jerks himself off.
âIâm gonnaâŠâ Sid trails off, and Zhenya startles when Sid presses down on his back, pushing him flat to the mattress. âSqueeze, baby,â he says, one hand between Zhenyaâs shoulder blades as he pushes his dick between Zhenyaâs cheeks with the other. âI want it tight.â
Zhenya complies, clenching as Sid thrusts, breath hitching whenever the head of Sidâs dick catches against his rim. Even with all of Sidâs spit itâs a shade too dry, and the friction against his sensitive skin is bordering on unpleasant, but it makes something in Zhenyaâs stomach squirm with desire.
When Sid comes, he presses the head of his dick just barely into Zhenyaâs hole, grunting as he just-barely thrusts, enough to stretch but not actually penetrate. Zhenya wishes he would, wishes Sid would force his way into Zhenyaâs body and come inside him, but itâs a game day, so he holds still instead of humping back onto Sidâs dick.
âFuuuuck,â Sid groans finally, pulling back and spreading Zhenyaâs cheeks wide. Zhenya turns his face into the pillow, sure that his entire back must be flushing red as Sid inspects his work. âPretty,â he says approvingly, thumbing over where his come is dripping from Zhenyaâs hole. âYouâre gonna be hurtinâ later, bud.â
Zhenya sighs explosively into his pillow, reaching back and smacking at Sidâs thigh. âGet lotion,â he orders, and Sid laughs at him, clambering off the mattress.
Heâs humming smugly to himself as he pokes through their toiletries. Zhenya would roll his eyes, but, well.
Sidâs touch is gentle now, rubbing the cooling ointment over Zhenyaâs hole and everywhere his mustache rubbed Zhenya raw. Zhenya drifts a little under Sidâs ministrations, and heâs practically asleep again when Sid drops a kiss on the nape of his neck and curls up next to him.
âAlarm?â Zhenya mutters as Sid slings an arm and a leg over him.
âWeâve got forty-five minutes.â Sid says, voice already sliding to drowsiness. âGo back to sleep. We gotta play better tonight.â
Zhenyaâs going to be sore later, but heâs never let that stop him from playing better when Sid asks him to. Heâs got a good feeling about tonightâs game.
#sidgeno#hockey rpf#my writing#my fic#24-25 series#i'm noticing a trend in what i've been writing recently when it comes to sex scenes#let's not read too deeply into any of that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Tell me about the misc au hedgehogs
Oh gosh I could say so much about each dudeeee. Like. OUGGHH
Sonic the Hedgehog, formerly Nikki
A kind boy who was initially secretave about his past, choosing to only look towards the future. He's heroic and adventurous, and has a bit of an ego and attitude. He can be selfish and emotionally unobservant, but he's not cruel. Just kinda... Stupid.
He left his home and life as Nikki when he was 10. He changed his name to Sonic and decided to try to play off as a boy (even though he was born female.) he liked being Sonic and the thought of going back to his old identity was sickening. He never wanted to look back, so he didn't. He left because he felt suffocated by rules, and he heard about Dr. Robotnik terrorizing West Side Island, so that's where he went and met Tails and the rest is history.
Amy Rose
When she first met Sonic, she was infatuated by his bravery and heroism. She wanted to be like him, she tried her best to keep up, but she never could. She wanted to pull her weight. She decided that if she couldn't pull her weight with her skill and power, she's try to be the best friend she could. Her compassion is her real weapon and shield.
She's convinced many people to turn a new leaf and is a friend of all, even if she can be a bit stubborn. She's three years younger than Sonic.
Amy helped a lot of people, and even ended up dating Shadow and Neo Metal.
Shadow the Hedgehog
An android made 50 years ago aboard the ARK, designed with the initial motive to save the planet and solve problems with his adaptive learning. A failsafe program was installed in his code to keep him from going berserk, Maria's final wish, but after the ARK Raid, his memory files were altered, and he blamed G.U.N. for shooting Maria. (Maria is entirely a false memory, since she didn't live past toddler hood.)
Shadow is trying to be a good person in his own way, still stoic and often distant. He's afraid of being controlled, weaponized, or being just another mindless machine. He built up a mentality that since he's not organic, he's not truly a real person. Even though his friend try to beat that mentality out of him, he does relapse whenever he's proven right (He's usually more emotionally distant and touch adversed in these states.)
Shadow was made with old hardware, but his software gets constantly updated. Shadow often overheats and short circuits when he's experiencing intense emotions or spiraling because of how many programs he's running (sometimes he bluescreens and crashes) and he has a lot more or android world building but I've talked for long enough.
Silver the Hedgehog
A friend from 200 years in the future who was initially joined by his childhood best friend, Blaze. Him and Blaze were scavengers for a lot of their lives, until they got competent enough to fend off Iblis. Blaze was a normal person, no powers like Silver's. Silver was tricked by Mephiles, and after risking and saving the past, lost Blaze once she sealed Iblis inside herself. Silver was messed up for a long time, until he decides to do something. He goes to Little Planet and obtains the Time Stones, using them to return to the past.
Silver befriends Espio and lives with the Chaotix Detective Agency, and also works with them. He's also a good friend of Amy since he has a soft spot for her. Silver and Espio are dating, but they don't announce it or anything.
Scourge the Hedgehog, formerly Manic
Sonic's younger brother (2 year gap) and the last person to see Nikki before they ran away to become Sonic. Manic looked up to Nikki, and when they left, he was devastated. He felt guilty for Nikki leaving, he blamed himself, and he hated himself for it. His family was tense from the stress and loss of Nikki, so Manic depended on friends for comfort and as an escape, but that turned out to be a bad influence as the people he spent time with lead him down the wrong path.
Present day, his name is Scourge, he's vengeful and hates Sonic. To him, Nikki doesn't exist anymore, it's just Sonic. He tries to sabotage Sonic, trying to make Sonic feels anything close to what he went through. He eventually gets arrested LOL I don't know exactly what he does though. Him and Fiona do still date and are actually childhood friends.
Sonia the Hedgehog
Sonic's older sister (3 year age gap) who tried to steer Nikki in the right direction, but was crushed under the weight of Nikki's absence. She withdrawaled almost completely, dedicating her time to search if her sibling was still alive.
I don't have a ton about her yet.
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I used to never lie. I just never really felt much need to. I couldn't really understand why people would lie. And I grew up completely 100% transparently putting all my information online. So learning that lying can be good and helpful was actually pretty weird for me.
The best example I have is from work. I take calls from all over the country. We're not allowed to give any personal details other than our first names. And sometimes a customer will ask what state I'm in.
I used to honestly tell them I'm not supposed to tell them. It made the call uncomfortable, it felt accusatory to them, and it just interrupted the flow of the call. Now I just lie and say another state.
Sometimes people ask me where I'm from and I just lie and say I was born here. It's close enough to true. Even if it weren't, it doesn't matter. They don't need to know that about me and it mitigates the risk of someone having poor opinions of where I'm from.
It can also help me help others. If I lie and say I was hopeless with our apps before I started working here and got trained in using them, it reassures a customer I'm not judging them and builds their confidence that they can do it too.
And the biggest thing is that customers can't tell the difference between you knowing what you're doing and sounding like you know what you're doing. I rarely ever get terrible calls, and most I can remember were from before I learnt to just. Pretend I know what I'm doing. And the coworkers who usually have bad experiences with customers usually are also the ones who tell the customers they're not sure what they're doing.
And outside of work I find it also just helps a lot. Instead of going into depth about my complicated relationship history and the slow burn with my current partner, I can just say we got together sooner than we did. Others will understand what I'm meaning better that way, especially with the complexity of polyamory.
You're doing yourself and those around you a massive dissservice by treating lying like it's a bad thing. Like many things, it can be used in a bad way, but it isn't within itself bad.
"lying is wrong" what evangelical nonsense is this???
#No one has ever claimed lying is always good in every situation either.#It's okay to have been hurt by lying and to not like to lie. No one is saying it's not.#But honestly it's a really good tool that you should always remember is available whenever you need it.
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I keep seeing once in a while people pondering on an apparent contradiction in Daniilâs character â he is said to be a rationalist but he is evidently extremely emotional. Those things do not go together, right? People notice their confusion. They find all sorts of interesting explanations. From him being manipulative and performative, using his displays of emotion like tools to control people. To him not being rational at all actually, him lying to himself and others, not even knowing who he is, pretending and failing.
Every time I get over it and completely forget and then another one of these hits me in the face. What I forget is that in common understanding rationality is opposed to being emotional. While in the community it is a basic level understanding that there are rational emotions and irrational ones. The same way there are rational beliefs and irrational beliefs (which is to say true and false basically).
From here:
A popular belief about ârationalityâ is that rationality opposes all emotionâthat all our sadness and all our joy are automatically anti-logical by virtue of being feelings. âŠ
For my part, I label an emotion as ânot rationalâ if it rests on mistaken beliefs, or rather, on mistake-producing epistemic conduct. âIf the iron approaches your face, and you believe it is hot, and it is cool, the Way opposes your fear. If the iron approaches your face, and you believe it is cool, and it is hot, the Way opposes your calm.â Conversely, an emotion that is evoked by correct beliefs or truth-conducive thinking is a ârational emotionâ; and this has the advantage of letting us regard calm as an emotional state, rather than a privileged default. âŠ
Becoming more rationalâarriving at better estimates of how-the-world-isâcan diminish feelings or intensify them. Sometimes we run away from strong feelings by denying the facts, by flinching away from the view of the world that gave rise to the powerful emotion. If so, then as you study the skills of rationality and train yourself not to deny facts, your feelings will become stronger. âŠ
I visualize the past and future of humankind, the tens of billions of deaths over our history, the misery and fear, the search for answers, the trembling hands reaching upward out of so much blood, what we could become someday when we make the stars our cities, all that darkness and all that lightâI know that I can never truly understand it, and I havenât the words to say. Despite all my philosophy I am still embarrassed to confess strong emotions, and youâre probably uncomfortable hearing them. But I know, now, that it is rational to feel.
Daniil probably suppresses some of his emotions to be taken seriously. But this is masking. And he is bad at it. He has strong emotions and strong convictions and they spill out of him regardless. He also values truth and honesty and thatâs another reason why he canât fully suppress his authenticity.
But all of it is about how to behave in polite society. How not to freak out neurotypicals. It has nothing to do with his thinking process, his beliefs and his goals. His rationality.
Now you can argue that his sincerity and his openness are irrational instrumentally, which is to say they lead to his downfall. He should have masked better and become more cynical if he wanted to succeed. Maybe? But that would also have its downsides, Iâm pretty sure. (weâll see what apathy meter does to his decision making soon enough)
Anyway, that is not the point I see people make. And I just really want people to stop making it. Strong emotions, strong ideals, passionate belief in a better future for humanity â those are all perfectly rational if they align with truth. And he does fail as a rationalist quite a lot as well, but this is purely an epistemological issue that has nothing to do with him being emotional.
#one of the reasons i find daniil to be such a great character#is that he's a pretty good representation of what an actual rationalist is like#outside of ratfic anyway#pathologic#daniil dankovsky#rationality#eliezer yudkowsky
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EPISODE 28 ⊠PLEASE LOVE ME AT MY WORST
LOVE, MAYBE â A CHILDE SMAU
masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 1265.
fifteen minutes is almost up; am i about to die?
ajax thoughts wander to all sorts of places as he nervously checks and watches the time move on his wristwatch. as to why he agrees so easily to your request to talk to himâhe doesnât know either. it just felt⊠right to agree.Â
he knows it would pain him to say no to you anyway.
perhaps it was just the small part of him that still hopes. that one little speck in him that hopes this âtalkâ would mend the rift that had formed between the two of you. it was probably stupid to have such expectations when he was pretty sure you were dead set on your answer to him before.
so it confuses him. why did you want to talk? did you want to just slap it in his face once again? no, you werenât like that. you would never do something that mean. but that just leads him back to square one: why?
the sound of soft footsteps growing louder alerts ajax, and he takes a deep breath because he knows itâs you. yet he takes a glance to check anyway. there you were, standing before him as he gets the familiar feeling of being starstruck surging through him. keep it together, ajax. he warns himself.Â
âhiâŠâ you softly said.Â
âhey.â
hey? who the hell says hey nowadays, ajax? get a grip! he mentally scolds himself, forcing him to pull out a tight smile to you instead to save him from his embarrassment. meanwhile, you thought otherwise of his reaction. oh god, he probably hates me. he never gives me that smile. it looks so forced. he probably just felt bad and forced himself to meet me out at this hour. your thoughts ran fast inside your mind as you fiddled with your fingers.
âuhm.. i wanted to talkââ
âso why did you want to meetââ
you both paused when you realized you both spoke at the same time. âyou go first,â he insisted. but you gestured otherwise and told him, âoh, itâs fine. you can go.â
âi insist. ladies first?â
seeing as this would go nowhere if you just went back and forth like that, you took a deep breath.Â
âi love you.â
for the whole day (and the additional fifteen minutes ajax gave you), you thought of many ways on how to approach childe with the topic of what happened before. yet none of those really started with âi love you." the best option you got after thinking so hard actually started with âiâm sorry.â the âi love youâ part was supposed to be near the end of the whole monologue you had prepared inside your head.
ajax only stared at you, dumfounded at your words. âshit, sorry, iâthat wasnât how i wanted to start, uhmââ you let out a sigh, a slightly shaky one at that because of your mistake. donât fuck up this one up and run away again, (name). you mentally took note. but then again, fuck that monologue you prepared beforehand. if you want to do this properly, then itâs better to do this as bare as your emotions could get, right?
taking another deep breath, you decided to speak up again before ajax could. âiâm going to be honest. i actually prepared some long speech that is supposedly transcribed inside my brain right now. but i definitely think i just forgot a good chunk of that speech now that iâm actually with you.âÂ
âiâm sorry, ajax. i let my fear get the best of me that day. i never wanted to tell you to go away; in fact, i know that i wanted nothing more than for you to hold me at that moment.â you let out a bitter chuckle at that. ajax watches you, listening to every word carefully. he takes in your appearance as well, and the slightly swollen and redness of your eyes were obvious enough for him to know your state as of late.
âi never wanted to push you away. and god, i feel so stupid and guilty for everything that i said that day. because i know none of those were true. well, i guess minus the part where i listed my flaws... because i know those were true in some senseâbut i want toâno, nevermind that. iâm trying to change my ways.â you corrected yourself.
âi asked dehya and the others for some advice. and they were right when they said that you had a positive impact on my life and that iâve never been this happy with someone else other than them. because i swear, youâre just a different case for me, ajax. you make me happy in ways i never thought anyone could bring me joy. when i thought i didnât have anyone by my side, you were there for me.â
âand i feel so, so, so fucking stupid for shutting you away that day. because deep inside, i knew my heart wanted otherwise. my brain wanted you to leave me alone, but i knew my heart wanted for you to stay. for you to tell me that everything is alright.â
âi guess the main gist of everything that iâm saying is that i love you; iâm sorry. i love you, ajax. and i know iâm probably late, and that you probably hate me right now, and also how you probably just forced yourself outside just so you could meet up with me, but i love you. this whole thing is honestly still scary to me, considering this is the first time i have experienced this in my whole lifespan of eighteen years right now.â
âyet i still love you despite that. iâm sorry that it took me a while. and again, you donât have to reciprocate itâi just wanted to let this all out. and like i said, you probably hate meââ
âam i allowed to speak now?â ajax.
âiâyeah, go ahead.â
âhave i told you that iâm so proud of you?â he asks. you donât know where heâs going with this. âyou mightâve mentioned it once or twice in the past, yeah.â he chuckles at your reply. it feels like your walking on thin ice because you really have no idea if heâs about to drop a bomb right now about him rejecting you.
you donât think you could handle that anyway.
âthank you, (name). i personally didnât know what to expect with what you were going to say. but i donât hate you. i could never hate you. not now, not ever. hell, i knew that if i said no to your request of having a talk i would definitely regret it. and iâm proud of you that you managed to say all of that. learning how to communicate is a big step already, you know?â
ajax takes a step closer and you didnât take a step back this time. you let him get close to you this time, fixing the distance that grew after you pushed him away. âand for the record, i love you tooâ he says, a bit more quietly, as if he really wants only you to hear those words coming from him. âthat fact isnât going to change anytime soon, silly.âÂ
âiâm sorry again. but iâm ready now. iâm prepared to take a risk in this whole thing they call love. so please love me at my worst, ajax.â
the night ends with ajax walking you home once againâbut this time there wasnât a single residue of the bitterness from before.
this time, it was filled with relief.
extra notes.
yayyyy!!! communication!!!!
i didn't expect for this episode to be so long. i was 700+ words in when i realized that it was going to be a bit lengthy.
taglist (open): @xianyoon @mitsvriii @kizakiss @kissingkzuha @aethion @phtogravi @ell1e2010 @esthelily @b4tm4nn @hcmay @ivvieene @morganadorodo @kaitfae @kentply @scaranthropy @kyon-cherri @kookiibun @kochothehoe @mekiiiii @ibyobi @iuspired @tetsuskei @kunikuzushis-darling @morgyyyyyyy @chluuvr @scaradooche @kissmiere @a1-ic3 @bubblegum-angelquartz @tiredjxnna @levlucs-kiru @angeilix @cerisescherries @saeskiss @a-talkative-corn @briluvspnk @kamisatoyato @bbysatoruuu @viviixoxosblog @bambisz @chemiru @eternal-dokja @bflyprincess @jamieexistss @monocerosei @enjisthings @jangyung @hahalame @cupid-spams @snzhrchy @ukinya @luciledreamz @bisatanica @bananasquash @almond-t0fu @thegalaxyisunfolding @jaguarthecat [1/2]
#( smau â love maybe ! )#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin imagines#genshin smau#childe x reader#childe genshin impact#childe smau#ajax x reader#ajax#childe#x reader
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lighthouse
a hanahaki piece from mephistophelesâ point of view. iâm using my thought template (? is that what youâd call it?) which can be found here.
if youâd like a more classic piece using the version everyone knows, i can publish something like that too! just let me know!
this was based on a poll; if youâd like spoilers for the type of ending, you can see the results here.
word count: 2.7k+
when he walks into the house of lamentation, he finds it absolutely trashed. dirt looks like itâs piling up in the corners and the few plants you look after are either overgrown or on the brink of death.
there are holes in the walls. he can only assume these are the result of fits of rage, probably from satan, but mephistopheles has no idea what couldâve pushed him over the edge. sobbing echoes from up the stairs. the exact brother that those tears belong to remains a mystery to him.
heâs been on a trip away with nobles. honestly, it was rather boring- and heâd still be on it, were it not for the summoning from diavolo.
goodness. they call you the devilsitter, but youâre not doing a very good job at it. how could you have let the place get into such a state? what, have you gone up to the human world or something? but then he would have been notified. wouldnât you have⊠wouldnât you have told him?
you wouldâve told him, right? you wouldnât have left him in the dark. no, not him. you couldnât bear not letting him know. as he picks his way through the dirt and trash and debris, he obsesses over this idea for a while, only getting it together when he lies his eyes on diavolo.
âdiavolo, you wanted me for something?â
beyond diavolo, he spots lucifer next. the man looks exhausted, and his eyes are red. his movements are sluggish and he has a pile of paperwork in one hand and what looks like coffee in the other, like heâs trying to distract himself from something.
âwhy is mephisto here?â mammon asks from the couch. âdoes he even like MC?â
stupid question. he doesnât grace it with an answer.
thirteen appears next, and mephistopheles suddenly gets a bad feeling. in a wrecked house with similar inhabitants, having a reaper here can only be bad. who is she here to reap?
whoâŠ
âiâm sorry, mephistopheles. thirteen thought you might be helpful. iâm sure sheâll fill you in on the way there.â
if not for the fact that death and its subsequent mourning feels like itâs about to engulf the entirety of the house of lamentation, he mightâve turned around and walked out of the house. here at the whim of someone else? really?
he numbly follows thirteen down the hall instead.
she delivers the awful news he expects. itâs you. of course itâs you. human lives are so fleeting, and their bodies arenât quite as robust as their celestial counterparts. a good chunk of them canât even use magic. you couldnât use magic when you arrived!
knowing all this doesnât stop his heart from cracking when she says your name. doesnât stop his stomach from twisting. in a most un-noble way, it doesnât stop him from throwing up in the hall. she looks at him with pity.
no, donât pity him. he doesnât need or want that.
with a quick chant, the vomit is gone, and mephistopheles continues on to your room, his stride just a little faster.
she explains to him that itâs hanahaki, a human world disease that stems from unrequited love. this information came from satan rather than solomon, surprisingly. when he asks what that has to do with him, she says that if the person you love confesses to you, the disease will disappear on its own.
she says that everyone has already confessed. everyone except for him.
i donât have feelings for them. itâs what he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat. heâs always aimed to share the truth; have all those years of denying what he really feels now caught up to him? or maybe itâs because he risks bringing your death faster. you know, if the target of your affections is him.
but also, why would it be him? you donât see him enough. shouldnât you have fallen for one of the brothers instead? is there a secret one that hasnât confessed yet? mammonâs always denying his obvious feelings for you. maybe heâs lied about confessing to you. maybe he hasnât confessed at all. or, or, there could be a secret eighth brother!
thirteen opens the door to your room and ushers him in.
she explained it all on the way here, but it doesnât prepare him for the sight. even if he had all the time in the world, mephistopheles doubts that he could ever be prepared for something like this.
your chest heaves, and what follows is a violent cough that grates against his ears. after a few moments of silence, the sound of your breathing returns, shallow and raspy. aside from your breathing and coughing, your body is completely still. itâs like youâre already dead.
âhow long do they have left?â he asks. she has access to the candles. she should know.
âthat would ruin the fun, wouldnât it?â a dark joke thatâs obviously an attempt to comfort herself, judging by the tears in her eyes. not long. maybe itâs worse for her, knowing when your time is supposed to come. she could always pour more wax on your candle, extending your life- but also prolonging your suffering. stuck between a rock and a hard place, he doesnât envy her.
the most noticeable feature you have is the bunch of flowers sprouting from your face. deep purple petals with a green pistil in the middle. he knows that shade of green too well. he sees it whenever he looks in the mirror. his breath hitches.
âeveryone has confessed,â thirteen whispers. âexcept for you.â
and with that, she leaves, closing the door behind her.
you start coughing again, and mephistopheles feels tears beginning to prick his own eyes. suddenly feeling quite lost, he drops to his knees and takes your hand. itâs cold. stiff. heâs amazed that youâre still here, even as you roleplay a corpse. is this the indomitable human willâŠ?
âMC,â he begins, but doesnât quite know where to go from there. another flower blooms. they cover your face completely, a little like a veil. he wonders if your eyes are glassy beneath it, lacking the sparkle that they normally hold. he wonders, if the flowers werenât there, youâd be able to see anything at all.
he decides to stop wondering.
âMC,â he tries again. âi know we didnât see each other a lot, but-â
his words fail again and he watches his hands shake. heâs probably just imagining it, but it seems like your fingers tighten just a little around his hand. the indomitable human will. a cliche where love conquers all. he presses your hand against his forehead and quietly breaks into sobs.
itâs not fair.
itâs not fair.
itâs not fair that his noble status means that heâs expected to marry someone of equal âvalueâ, and itâs not fair that he doesnât get to see you that often, his time taken up by schoolwork and newspaper club duties and noble duties and then someone is always hoarding your time anyway, and itâs not fair that heâs already being pushed away and itâs not fair that diavolo is obviously crushing on you and your love being requited, if it really is him, would just end up with him being pushed away more.
itâs probably more acceptable for you to be with an angel than with him.
he wonders what it was like for the others when it came to falling for you. maybe the realisation was soft. fluffy. like falling onto a bed of feathers, a warm fuzzy feeling flooding their brain. what is it like, being allowed to fall in love with you? is it as beautiful as he imagines it to be?
the realisation hit him when he was taking a photo of you for the school newspaper. though the lighting was terrible and the backdrop was even worse, you still looked gorgeous. ethereal. perfect. if it were anyone else, he never would've entertained the idea- but because it was you, he'd snapped a picture, and showed it to you, saying that he'd like to make it the front page photo. youâd laughed, saying you looked awful and to take a better one. put those centuries of photography expertise to good use!
it was like hitting concrete after a long fall. it felt like being torn apart and set alight and ripped to shreds all at once. he resigned himself to being unhappy forever, because youâd surely take to someone that you see far more often than him, and heâd be stuck on the sidelines watching it all happen. he tried to distance himself, but it didnât work and how could it when you kept making excuses to see him?
he admires the flowers. limited time has cursed them. your short lifespan, his lack of free hours from duties and responsibilities and extra work, kindly piled on by lucifer, and now the clock is ticking away on him yet again because he canât spit the fucking words out.
at least if you die, the flowers will stay. an eternal reminder of you, and what he couldnât have. how ironic.
ah. he should be used to it by now. aside from the money and the title, which are only more chains, he has nothing. his little brother is a small comfort. he canât keep his childhood friend, he canât keep his position, he canât even keep you, and you want to be kept.
mephistopheles sucks in a breath, desperate to gain some semblance of stability, but it doesnât work. his parents will be disappointed, and everyone else will hate him, with the exception of perhaps luke and his lovely little brother. diavolo wonât ever look at him again, probably completely disgusted, and then heâd be completely lost. tears are streaming down his face.
heâs so pathetic.
thatâs not an exaggeration. youâre on deathâs door, and he has the power to save you, and he canât because heâs afraid. he doesnât deserve someone like you. you, who goes above and beyond when itâs needed. you, who wasnât immediately turned off by his attitude. you, whom he loves.
he recalls something that you said to him when you were telling him about your plan to massively prank lucifer. he remembers asking you if youâre not afraid of the consequences- youâd laughed at him, but not cruelly.
the only thing to fear is fear itself!
all that time he spent talking down on you and humans. through his heartbreak, he lets out a gentle sigh, resigning himself to the future.
maybe it wonât be as bad as it seems. maybe youâll make the consequences lighter. maybe with your presence, he can hallucinate his life getting better. maybe, maybe, maybe. maybe he could learn to hope again, instead of uselessly grasping at straws. he chokes out the words, pressing your cold, stiff hand to his forehead. your breathing has slowed. your coughing has stopped.
like it could ever be that easy.
maybeâŠ
maybe heâs too late.
mephistopheles feels like he's watching whatâs probably the last of your candle burn out, his heart threatening to shatter. your chest heaves again, and he prepares himself, ready for the horrible hacking noise thatâll follow.
but it never comes.
instead, he feels your grip on his fingers tighten. itâs only a little, but itâs there. he didnât imagine it. that was real. heâs too young and itâs too early to be hallucinating you doing things, so that was definitely absolutely real.
right?
thereâs a soft exhale that he barely hears, and he watches the flowers begin to wither and decay. his heartbroken and absolutely pitiful tears turn into happier ones as warmth returns to your hand and life begins to flood back into your body.
he doesnât move from your side, amazed at how quickly youâre recovering. itâs your breathing that he finds heâs most excited about, the hoarseness quickly disappearing.
you turn your head to him. even with the flowers gone, you look absolutely exhausted. perhaps thatâs to be expected.
âsay that again.â
it comes a lot easier the second time.
âi love you, MC. to the moon and back.â
a smile tugs at your lips. âi love you too.â
it takes him a while to come out of the room. you want to come with him, and are too stubborn to stay on your bed, complaining that itâs boring and youâve already been there for days. unfortunately, youâre too weak to stand on your own (not that heâs particularly surprised), so you end up leaning quite heavily on him instead.
very slowly, you make it out of the room. thirteenâs outside, probably waiting for the bad news.
âfinished?â
âsorry, thirteen.â you grin weakly. âiâm still alive.â
still alive and walking, which heâll probably get told off for letting you do. he thinks about it briefly and instead lifts you up so that he can walk faster heâs supporting your legs with one arm and your back with the other. the reaper purses her lips as her tears finally spill over.
âthis makes it quite difficult to hug them, you realise.â
âtheyâre too weak for hugging.â
âi could probably manage a little hug-â
âyouâre too weak for hugging.â
you huff out a laugh. âwhatever you say...â
you donât comment on the state of the house as he carries you to the common room, thirteen animatedly talking beside him. mephistopheles tries hard not to look down; he knows youâll be staring at him adoringly, finally free to.
the only people still in the common room are mammon, diavolo, and barbatos. lucifer mustâve gone to his office to drown himself in paperwork. thankfully, mammonâs scream (thirteen held her hands over your ears, but heâs not sure it did much) alerts everyone in the house. one after the other, people appear in the doorway, their eyes wide and red.
levi looks like heâs cried so much that he canât cry anymore, and yet he still manages to summon some tears as he sees you flowerless.
âyou can all go back to school now. isnât that exciting?â you laugh, and belphie looks at you dryly, obviously unimpressed by the idea.
âha. youâre so funny, MC.â
mephisto looks down to see a weak smile gracing your face. then something shifts in you and you start complaining.
âi feel like a newborn baby, being stared at like this.â
âi can set you down, if you like,â he offers, and you shake your head, snuggling further into his chest. he wonders if you can hear his heart pounding.
âno thank you. i like being in your arms. by the way, this hold is called the bridal style carry in the human world.â
mephistopheles very nearly drops you at that.
and much later on, after many games of rock paper scissors and many ties between thirteen and satan when it came to feeding you (you probably couldâve done it yourself), diavolo pulls him aside for a walk.
here it comes. the rejection.
mephisto braces himself.
âyou know, i think theyâll be good for you.â
�
âdiavolo?â
he laughs. âwhat, did you think i was going to punish you, or something? itâs not like itâs something you can control, falling in love.â thereâs a pause. âi hope you didnât beat yourself up too badly before you confessed.â
ah. so he went through something similar. perhaps thereâs a shared understanding between demons of higher rank that heâd previously overlooked.
âalso-â the prince musters up a grin. âtheyâd be pretty damn annoyed to know if you did.â
bonus:
as he returns from his walk, he sees you leaning on satan, waiting for his return. except you only look at him once, mouth âwatch thisâ, and focus your gaze entirely on diavolo.
mephistopheles wonders if he should be worried.
given that itâs you, the answer is probably a resounding yes.
âdiavolo,â you begin, fidgeting. âi was wondering if i could maybe get a present? you know, since i nearly died.â
diavoloâs eyes light up. âabsolutely! anything you want, itâs yours!â
âanything?â
âanything.â
your eyes gleam with cunning. he wonders if maybe he should stop you from taking advantage of the literal ruler of devildom, but you did just come back from playing a dead body, soâŠ
âthen, could you make mephisto the president of the newspaper club again?â
the temperature of the room gets several degrees colder as lucifer glowers from the corner. diavolo only laughs before granting your request and whispering to him:
âsee? good for you.â
mephistopheles watches you smile triumphantly.
maybe everything really will be okay after all.
#uwu#i had to fit in the happily ever after part in too#anyway itâs longer than expected#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#obey me mc#obey me mephisto#obey me mephistopheles#obey me mephistopheles x reader#obey me mephisto x reader#mephistopheles x reader#mephisto x reader#hanahaki#i need him to be dateable NOW#birthday event for mephistopheles and itâs just him being dateable
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I feel like you guys are missing the point.
He's a 900+ year old Time Lord. He's living as much as he possibly can, and he feels like it's nowhere near enough, and far too much, all at the same time.
This SAME MAN, same face and all, is the person who said "Sometimes I think a Time Lord lives too long"
He's the man who, literally in his NEXT regeneration, spends a third of his series depressed because he can't find an ounce of joy in the universe himself and NEEDS humans to show around so he can catch a hint of it through them.
The Doctor even states that humans "look like giants" to him, specifically BECAUSE of the fact that they live so much in such a short time.
This isn't a show about an awesome, nigh-immortal time-traveling alien.
It's a show about the pains and soul-crushing responsibilities that come with time travel and immortality.
And, of course, you're all forgetting the glaring fact of this episode, entirely separate from the quotes you're so eagerly judging:
THE MAN THE DOCTOR IS TALKING TO HAS TO EAT PEOPLE TO STAY YOUNG.
He literally KILLS PEOPLE to survive. The Doctor, talking him out of eternal life, is not just doing so because "long life bad", he's doing so because "eating people to live forever is an awful way to be" as well.
You're also disregarding his point entirely in favor of giving bad-faith analysis of the show.
His point is that whether you have 10 years or 20, how you spend that time is what matters, not the amount of time you have to spend.
He has eternity, and it's not worth it. He knows it isn't, and he's trying to stop anyone else from making that mistake. He's living for so long, and has lived so much, but it just isn't worth it anymore.
Lucy Lacemaker, from Satellite City (or, more officially, The August Few: Amygdala, though she never says this in there) puts it very well:
"Billions of years we've been about. And life's not worth much once the rest is gone. You get bored of the wind and the birds and the sound of laughter and the smell of pine. Life is like a piece of paper. And the writing is our lives. Our stories. When you only have 90 years, the ink turns to gold. So valuable are the words, the days you live. Cause soon, the story will end. But what if you have a never-ending page? A bottomless inkwell? The more you write, the less it all means. That's our curse. We live so long that it's not even life anymore. We're not living forever, we're dying forever."
@another-normal-anomaly said that if they kicked ass for 80 years, got saved, and kicked ass another 80, that's twice as much as they would have done. But that's still only 160 years, and it reinforces the Doctor's point; it's not the time that matters, it's the person, because others may spend that 160 years doing nothing, and some may spend that 160 years doing everything.
But they would still only have 160 years. Not forever. What the Doctor is warning against is eternity. Eternity is pointless.
@dagny-hashtaggart said the show is hypocritical in it's transhumanist stance for featuring an "awesome, nigh-immortal, time-traveling alien", but that just tells me they've either never watched the show or they have and 100% missed the point of the character of the Doctor.
Because the Doctor is not happy with his long life. He's not content or pleased about it. He's miserable. The only worth he finds in it is giving other, shorter-lived life forms the pleasure of seeing things they never could otherwise, and protecting the lives of those more fragile than him because he, at his core, has two values above all others:
If it kills me, I can put an end to this opera of my life, and I can finally rest
If it doesn't kill me, it means I've stopped it and other, more meaningful lives will be spared.
The Doctor is not some happy, positive character. He's a victim of a tragedy, and that tragedy is, quite painfully obviously, the fact he lives so long. His lifespan, his regeneration, is a curse to him, not a blessing. The fact you can call the show hypocritical for that tells me you've never seen it, or you've never understood it.
@argumate made a crude joke about a man with a big dick, named after having a big dick, saying that life wasn't about having a big dick.
Well, fun fact. If your dick were, say, 14 inches, as a human (which is a real condition that has happened), you would have heart problems every time you got erect, be entirely unable to enjoy penetrative sex (aside from the heart problems, you'd be unable to get more than a small fraction of your length in without hurting them), and if you ever tried to get a little more out of it, you'd seriously injure your partner.
Not only that, but you'd have social problems as well. Try hiding the outline when your flaccid length still reaches down past your knee. You'd be a laughing stock early on, and if you had frequent erections (say during puberty, post-growth spurt, pre-calming of the hormones), you'd be unable to hide it no matter how hard you tried.
It would cause more issues than that, too, believe me. And yet you're saying if a man who suffered from all of these problems told you "it's not all fun and games, having a big dick", you'd mock him for not loving the "gift" he's been "blessed" with?
All of you missed the point of the show, the character, and even the point of the scene you're remarking on.
I expected better comprehension on this site.
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