#and I didn’t want to start an argument with an anti

[hllywdwhre]

My Darling Boy

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Irish!fem!reader

Summary: Tommy’s late night leads to you comforting him and a recount of the first time you realized you loved him.

Warnings: Panic attacks, reader faces anti-Irish sentiment from a stranger, Tommy says some questionable things about the Irish but nothing too bad💀, violence, bar fight. Let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 2.8K

Notes: This was 100% inspired by @red-write-hand ‘s Tommy bot. My god do I love that thing and fluff it gives me. I tried keeping this as reader friendly as possible, but some details had to be added to fit the plot, such as reader being Irish.

Edit: This has not been proofread and YIKES. Sorry for all the errors😭

Flashbacks are italicized!

You stared at the clock on your wall that read 2:07 AM. Tommy was supposed to be in bed three hours ago. It was your agreement. He could work as late as he wanted as long as he ate all three meals with you and came to bed at 11. The resolve had come almost a year ago when you’d finally told him you, his wife, felt like second place to his work.

But here it was. 2AM, your bed felt cold without him there, and this was the third time this week that he hadn’t come to bed on time.

You tried not to argue with him. He had enough stress with work and you didn’t want to be a source of more stress, but you had his same quick temper and you couldn’t deny that you were more than irritated that he was seemingly back to his old ways of ignoring your agreement.

You made your way down the hall and to his office, leaning against the door frame.

Tommy spoke before you could, “I know what you’re about to say.”

The exhaustion in his voice and the way he looked… defeated immediately caused a change of heart in you, though.

“My darling boy,” you said in a soft voice, making sure to use the pet name you had for him to try and avoid him thinking you were there for an argument.

“Don’t ‘my darling boy’ me,” he replied immediately with a bite in his tone, “Not when you’re here to start an argument with me. What time is it?”

You’d known Tommy since he came back from The Great War. You knew more than well enough by now to not take his words to heart when he was like this. He was taking his anger out on you, whether you deserved it or not.

You had blinded men and taken their tongues using the bladed Peaky Blinders cap for speaking to you the way Tommy was speaking to you, but Tommy was your soft spot. Somehow, you always remained calm when it came to Tommy.

You made your way over to his desk and picked up the empty whiskey glass that was next to a stack of papers that littered his desk.

“It’s 2 in the morning, my love,” you replied in a calm voice. You walked over to the fireplace where his bottle of whiskey sat and refilled the glass then placed it on the desk again.

He picked it up as soon as you set it down and took a long drink from it.

“I have work, you know that. The business doesn’t run itself.” He took another swallow of the liquid and you could see the way his breathing had picked up slightly.

It started to make sense in that moment. You knew Tommy as well as he knew you and as well as you knew yourself. You knew the signs of one of his panic attacks beginning and stepped between him and his desk.

“I know that. I’m not mad at you, darling,” you replied after a moment. You made sure to keep your voice the steady and calm tone you knew he needed at the moment as you spoke. “Can you look at me?”

Tommy took a deep breath before looking up at you and you could see the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead along with the way his eyes seemed unable to focus on you. You lifted your hand to his cheek and gently ran your thumb across it in a slow motion.

“What’s your full name?” You asked him. The questions you would ask him changed from time-to-time so he wouldn’t get too used to them. They were simple questions, enough to distract him and get him to focus on you, but not enough to send him into a further panic.

“Thomas Michael Shelby, why?” He raised the glass to his lips again, but his breathing only picked up more.

You took the glass from his hand and set it on the desk behind you then placed his hand on your chest, right where you knew he would be able to feel your heartbeat.

“Focus on my breathing and my voice. What’s John’s wife’s name?” You asked him next.

You watched as he closed his eyes and did as you said, trying to match his breathing to yours as you began taking slower and deeper breaths.

“Esme,” he answered after a moment.

“When’s our wedding anniversary?” You asked next.

”The 17th of August.”

You knew it was silly, but you couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks at how quickly and easily he answered that question. It was the little things like that which reminded you that you were still his number one priority.

“Can you look at me again?” You asked him once you noticed his breathing had calmed down.

Tommy looked to you, his blue eyes immediately finding your eyes and locking onto them. The corner of his mouth tilted into a small smirk and you returned it with a small smile of your own.

“I love you,” you told him as you crawled into his lap and pulled him into a hug, trying to help ground him more.

He immediately returned your hug and buried his head into your neck. Your hands instinctively rose to the back of his head and gently ran your nails across the shaved part of it.

“I love you, too. Even when I’m a mess,” he replied quietly.

“You’re not a mess,” you argued immediately, “you’re my amazing husband, an amazing business leader, an amazing member of parliament, and the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

A sigh left his lips after a long moment and his head remained buried in your neck. His breathing was no longer panicked and he had relaxed into your hold completely.

“I don’t deserve you,” he muttered into your neck.

“Funny,” you said with a chuckle, “I think the same thing of me.” You moved your head enough so you could kiss his temple. “Love you with all my heart, Thomas Shelby. You’re my darling boy.”

As soon as the pet name left your lips, he was chuckling into your neck. It was one anyone else would be maimed for calling him, but somehow you saying it had won him over.

“Love you, too,” he murmured in response.

After a couple long minutes of the two of you curled into each other, and once you were sure he wouldn’t panic speaking of it, you asked him,

“What led to it?”

He immediately knew what you were asking and shook his head in your neck,

“Nothing,” he replied in a defeated voice.

You pulled back enough to cause him to raise his head and she the quirked brow you were giving him,

“Thomas Shelby, what do you tell me every time I try to say the same thing?”

Any time you tried to belittle your problems, Tommy was the one who was telling you that if it was causing you troubles, then it wasn’t nothing and it was worth talking about.

He grumbled something under his breath about using his own words against him and then finally answered.

“The bloody Irish,” he said loud enough for you to hear.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that left your lips. You knew Tommy knew better than to think she was laughing at him or her problems; you were simply laughing at the irony of it all.

“What have my people done now?” You asked, purposefully making your accent come out as thick as possible to pick on him.

“Made an illegal shipment without our say so,” Tommy replied and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Well… we’ve never liked to obey the English. I think my ancestors are rolling in their graves at how soft I am with you,” you teased, hoping to get at least a chuckle out of him.

It worked and you could feel the way his body shook the slightest bit as the small laugh left him,

“You’re not soft, darling, you’re just civilized,” he teased in return.

You pulled away with a look of mock offense on your face,

“Hey, now! My people are very civilized, we just know how to have fun,” you told him.

You know Tommy held no actual disdain towards you or your Irish blood. He himself was part Irish. He only spoke this way around you to get under your skin and pick on you.

“If you call bar fights being civilized then sure, darling.” The smirk on his face told you he was still only teasing you.

You scrunched up your nose as you looked at him,

“Maybe not your strongest point, love. I’ve come home with a black eye from an English bar fight where, for once, I was genuinely an innocent bystander and I had to keep you from going after half of Small Heath,” you pointed out.

Tommy’s face immediately darkened at the memory of that night and he tried to stutter out some defense of how it was different, but you shook your head no.

“You know that was the night I realized I loved you?” You told him as your own version of the memories flitted through your mind and you tried to distract him from the darker thoughts of his mind.

Your words seemed to catch him off guard and he looked up at you with surprise written on his features.

“Really?” He asked, unsure how else to reply.

You nodded in response and you felt another deep blush creep onto your cheeks. One thing you and Tommy had in common was that vulnerability didn’t come natural to you.

“Would you care to know how I remember that night?” You asked to which he nodded. “It was after a day of shopping with Ada and Esme. You and I had been together for three months at that point, and Ada and Esme were sure we were going to end up getting married, so they wanted to make sure I knew I was part of the family.”

You knew he knew all of this, but you wanted to tell him the whole story of how you had come to the realization and what had happened leading up to the fight.

”After we were done shopping, Esme had John meet us up at The Garrison so we could all have a drink.”

The three of you stumbled through the doors of the pub, giggling over something Ada had said.

John motioned the three of you over to the table he was sitting at, already having ordered a round of drinks for you. It was the first time you had sat outside of the private room the Shelbys had, and the last.

In the middle of the three of you telling John about the new dress Ada had bought, someone who’d had one too many drinks came stumbling over.

“I don’t get you Shelbys. You serve your country in the war then associate with some Irish scum,” he spat out, motioning from John to you.

You had met the other Shelbys while Arthur, Tommy, and John were in France. Polly had needed a bookkeeper for the betting shop and had taken you, even vouching for you when they had returned. After a year of working with them, one incident where you had been used as bait that had gone too far, and you’d been forced to defend yourself, Tommy had decided to make you an official Peaky Blinder. You may not wear your Peaky cap, but the bladed item was also on you. Offers had been made to hide blades in other women’s items of clothing, but you had denied. You had learned how to hide the cap among scarves, shawls, or in your bags and you wanted the official Peaky Blinders symbol.

John had immediately jumped to your defense that night in The Garrison.

“She’s a damn Peaky Blinder and has been for years! She can be trusted as well as any Englishman or woman.” He had defended, standing up to meet the man eye-to-eye as a warning to leave.

“Do you know who you’re talking about?” Ada said next, standing up also, “Irish or not, she’s Tommy’s girl and a Blinder.”

“I don’t give a shit if she’s Tommy’s current whore or not. She’s Irish scum and I don’t want to be in a pub with the likes of her,” the man spat back at Ada.

Esme and you both stood up at this and the rest of the pub had silenced as they watched the scene unfold. Seemingly out of thin air, a couple other Blinders that were present came to stand beside John as he told the man to leave the pub while he could still see the door.

Next thing you knew, Esme had pulled you harshly out of the way as a glass shattered against the wall behind you.

Chaos broke out immediately. Despite you trying to fight against them, a couple patrons or other members of the Peaky Blinders (you weren’t sure which) had tried to drag you, Ada, and Esme back to the office. During the mix, a blow landed on your cheek and you quickly swung back.

The fight seemed to halt immediately after. Even if the guy was brave enough to harass you for being Irish, throw a glass at your head, and fight John over everything, everyone else seemed to realize the grave mistake that had been made in that moment.

No one touched Thomas Shelby’s woman, and there she was with a bruise already evident on her cheek.

John grabbed the guy by the scruff of the neck like he was nothing more than a rabid dog, called for you to follow him, and called for Esme and Ada to be walked back to the betting shop and for all the members of the Peaky Blinders present to go there, also.

You walked with John to the canal and were told by John that you ‘could do the honors of killing the bastard’ yourself.

After the deed was done, the two of you had walked back to the betting shop and arrived at the same time as Tommy.

You remembered the worry on his face as he looked for you, the anger that took over when he spotted the black eye, him screaming at everyone to give him an answer as to what had happened and who had harmed you, and the way he had pulled you into his arms in a hug that nearly crushed you.

You remembered the feeling of safety that washed over you once you were in his arms, the feeling of home, and the way you were able to ignore the chaos around you as others explained what exactly had happened that night.

You remembered the way he wouldn’t let anyone else touch you until he had personally looked you over for any injuries.

You remembered the look he had when you told him you’d killed the man. The disappointment over not being the one to do it himself, but the pride in you standing up for yourself.

“I remember being absolutely terrified when it finally clicked in my head what I was feeling. I have never feared you, but I was terrified of ever getting my heart broken again. I knew Esme and Ada had said they were sure we would be married, but my own insecurities came into play, and I was terrified you’d realize how much of a mess I could be and you’d leave me,” you told him, leaned in and kissing him softly for a moment before continuing on, “You never left me. Even when we’ve fought, you never let me feel like you were going to leave me. I learned that no matter what happened, you’d move the earth, heavens, and hells to make sure you always came back to me.”

Tommy remained silent as you finished your story. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but it seemed you had actually managed to make the man speechless.

“I love you, Thomas Michael Shelby,” you muttered as you leaned in to kiss him again, “I meant it the first time I said those words, when I accepted your proposal, when we said them at the altar, when I say them now, and every time in between. You’re my darling boy through it all.”

His hand came up to cup your face and he rested his forehead against yours, “I’ve meant them all, too. You’re mine until the end of time.”

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby x you #Thomas Shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x you #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby #Peaky blinders #Cillian Murphy

[nixthelapin]

I just saw someone claim that during Passion (season 5), when Adrien was tempted to use their miraculous to make a Wish and heal Natalie, that he was pretending to not remember that the Wish has a cost to trick LB into letting him make the Wish, and therefore Marinette actually can’t trust him (this was made in response to the fandom being mad at Marinette for keeping secrets from him at the end of the season). Lmao what?? What planet are you on? 🤣

#I’m not gonna link the post bc I don’t want hate thrown #and I didn’t want to start an argument with an anti #but #at what point was Adrien pretending?? #and he literally asked her first it’s not like he was going behind her back #if he was going to use the wish he could’ve just run off with both miraculous instead of giving her the ring #and being tempted to do something can make you forget/ignore the consequences #the fact that he didn’t follow through is a huge testament to his character and actually shows how trustworthy he is #don’t vilify characters just for being tempted guys #miraculous #mlb #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #chat noir #cat noir #miraculous passion #Marinette #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous season 5

[andhumanslovedstories]

That post seeking information on psych nursing was prompted by—well by a lot of things, I have a lot of feelings when I’m on that floor, chief amongst them being “I didn’t become a nurse to become a cop”—but in particular, a bit ago I was having a long conversation with a patient because they were feeling super nauseated but didn’t feel comfortable taking anti-nausea medication. And this patient was going through a lot (I’m gonna keep this pretty vague) and was fixated on this idea that someone at the hospital was poisoning their food for reasons explained to me in-depth. Okay, no meds then, we try some other stuff and I make them tea and we walk around, and they start feeling better thankfully, and even agree to take the nausea meds.

It’s been a good conversation and we’re really getting on, I think, so I talk with them a while longer, and we get back on the subject of the hospital, and the patient tells me a delusional thought they have about the hospital that was both impossible to be true and would be horrible if it was.

(This isn’t the delusion, but imagine it’s something equivalent to something like “the hospital gives out deadly nanotechnology to the nurses so that we can kill whatever patients we find annoying.” Something that is both evil and logistically impossible. We got a sternly worded email about too many employees using patient blankets for warmth and it was driving up the laundry bill, you know? Our unit is excited because we’re finally gonna get our own work phones instead of having to borrow everyone else’s. They aren’t giving us CIA murdertech and a license to kill. Also the vast majority of healthcare workers do not want to kill their patients. But again, just pragmatically, it’s not the budget.)

And I said something like, “For what it’s worth, I have never seen any evidence of that in my work. I know the hospital is a flawed institution, but if it was doing the thing you say it is doing, I could never work here.”

And the patient said, “if they’re doing what I say they’re doing, you have an obligation to keep working here so you could stop it.”

And god I’ve been thinking about that ethical argument ever since.

#nursing post

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

A New Tradition [Sebek Zigvolt]

You had never seen Sebek look this serious in your life.

And that said a lot, considering you’d known him all throughout your years in NRC and a few years into his adult life where you had subsequently dated. Sebek was a partner who regarded romance with an intensity that was unsurprising yet appreciated. He made every date special, even in tiny ways, he remembered significant days in your relationship without needing to be reminded, he tried to be as open with his communication as possible (which still resulted in fumbling, as he couldn’t always accurately define the emotions he was feeling). Either way, you could see the intense look of concentration on his face now after your request.

You had hesitated on asking him to participate in a Christmas tradition as you had correctly guessed it wasn’t something he really cared for. He was part human, and his dad celebrated it a bit, but had always left it up to Sebek on if he wanted to join. Sebek’s mother was far more interested in the little holiday traditions, helping his father set up the glass tree he took from the attic every year (it caused little mess, and was still customizable enough that they could change out the decorations on it). There was an exchanging of presents that always included Sebek, and as an adult he felt the need to give back as well, but that was the extent of his interaction with the holiday. His mother always seemed to light up the night before, excited as she looked at the colorful wrapping paper around her presents and mused on what they might be. Sebek couldn’t help but consider it a tradition that was more his parents than his, as they seemed more disgustingly in love on that day compared to every other day of the year (and they were pretty much always openly affectionate, so that was saying something).

Sebek was far too aware of the change of energy as he answered your question, the disappointed look being a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moment but he noticed. He knew when your smile was forced, that you were simply not making him to do something he didn’t want to, and he had always appreciated the side of you that was understanding. He had come to learn that relationships had a give and take, that as stubborn as he could be there were moments he had to yield to you because it was truly not a serious enough issue that an argument should continue on. And it’s not like he was anti-human tradition, he had to nix that when he started dating one a few years ago, so there was no reason he couldn’t agree to making your own personalized tradition like his parents had.

“I want to… I’ll decorate with you,” Sebek finally stated, regarding the tree he had just pulled into your home. He was still on his knees in front of it, having arranged the skirt around the bottom as you had directed, so now the green pine stood proud at the center of your dining room. “The tree. We can find something in the nearby shops to put on them… I heard there are enchantments that make the lights change color, or sparkle, whichever you’d like…”

He was talking to himself more than you now, seeming to think of all the way he could make this unique for the two of you to enjoy. The thought of a shopping trip was an exciting one, especially when you knew Sebek was thinking of human tradition alternatives that might be found in the fae world; you’d never enchanted a tree before but you wondered what kind of magical baubles might be in the shops, just waiting to find a loving home.

“Ah! But, I do have a rule.”

Sebek tilted his head in acknowledgement despite staying in his thinking pose, to let you know he was listening.

“Do not bring an ornament into this house with Malleus’ face on it.” Sebek went to open his mouth, his eyebrows knitted together on his head, a retort on the tip of his tongue when you cut him off again, “Not a tree topper, either!”

Sebek huffed, arms crossed as he wondered what other way he might make tribute to Malleus on the tree without you noticing.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Sebek Zigvolt #Sebek Zigvolt x Reader #Scenario

[katiesyellowcardcollection]

I'll drive, I'll drive all night

Katie McCabe x y/n McCabe

(younger sister)

part two part 3

Trigger warnings: mentions of poor mental health not to much detail, suggestions of sexual assault.

AN: not sure if i like this but i wanna start writing more so its start ig😅 please comment tips or any advice🙏🙏

your not to sure how you’ve ended up in london, when you got on the flight from dublin or how you ended up at your big sisters front door, you just remember the argument, you remember storming out of school and you remember your ma shouting and doors slamming and now you were in London on a chilly wednesday evening.

You hesitated to knock scared of what Katie’s reaction will be, you haven’t seen her much recently and you’ve been ignoring her frequent calls and messages asking how you were, if you were going to the game or if you were going to call tonight despite your pretty much radio silence towards your older sister she persisted in messaging you, each one being left unopened.

“y/n what the fuck are you doing here? ma has been worried sick”.

you hear a familiar irish accent shout, flinching slightly at the tone of her voice, she sounded furious, you’ve seen your big sister angry on multiple occasions but not like this, it scared you.

“i’m sorry”.

you say barely above a whisper looking down at the floor the tiling on the porch suddenly much more interesting then it was 30 seconds ago.

“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it y/n you’ve had the entire family out searching for you, i was on my way to get a flight over to come and help and you turn up here with zero explanations as to how you’ve ended up here, you ran away from school yet again and now your kicked out of yet another school, ma is in an absolute state she’s at her wits with you y/n”

you wish the ground could swallow you right there and then, you wish you wasn’t having this conversation with katie, you wanted to be tucked up in bed away from her, away from everything going on.

“i didn’t mean to scare ma”

you tell her sincerely making a point to look her in eyes.

“ i don’t know what happened honestly i don’t even know how i got here it’s like i don’t even know what’s going on with me anymore”

your words hang in the air for a few minutes as katie observes you she can see your shaky breathes, she notices your eyes darting around the floor looking anywhere but at her.

She wants to wrap you up and keep you safe from the world, she wants nothing more than to know what’s going with you.

“Hey it’s okay y/n i’m sorry i shouted at you i was just worried, i’ve been worried about you and i just want to help you, let’s get you inside and ill get cait to make you her famous hot chocolates and we can talk about things alright?”

she questions tilting her head slightly although it’s more of a demand then a question not wanting to anger her further you nod.

~~~

Sat on Katie’s sofa, hot chocolate in hand and snuggled with coopurr is not how you expected you’d spend the evening when you woke up, you had plans to go out with your friends to the nearest fields where all the teenagers in Kilnamanagh hung out, those plans seemed long gone now though.

you wondered for a spilt second if your friends would care that you hadn’t shown up , if they were worried as to where you’d disappeared to before remembering that they didn’t care, not really, no one truly cared.

you weren’t happy and you hadn’t been for a long time, you were struggling more then you cared to admit your smile no longer met your eyes, your football boots were discarded in a cupboard somewhere having not been worn in months, not touched a ball in months, you were getting into trouble more often then not, having been taken home by the police on more then one occasion for anti social behaviour, your attendance had slipped you no longer cared for getting perfect grades or for winning awards to take home to your family for your ma to put up proudly around the house to show off their perfect daughter.

you were a silhouette of the girl you used to be, the small carefree little girl who ran wild with a ball at her feet, the little girl who didn’t care about the opinions of strangers, the mischievous grin that you used to wear constantly had vanished replaced by a constant scowl, one which you were currently displaying.

Feeling your sisters gaze fall on you, you begrudgingly look up at her.

“What happened at school y/n”.

she questions searching your face for answers.

“the teachers pissed me off”

“language y/n your 15 quit with the swearing already” she says giving you a pointed look.

“right yeah sorry anyways they annoyed me so i left i hate school it’s so shit i can’t stand that place i don’t get the work cause im stupid and it’s just horrible katie”

you know that’s not the whole truth and whilst yes your head of year had annoyed you but it wasn’t why you got on a flight and it wasn’t why you ran out of school.

Katie’s eyebrows raised in question.

“so you ran away got on a flight, came to my door to lie straight to my face when all i want to do is to help you”

biting your lip you hesitate slightly, the tension in the room coming to all time high.

“im not lying”

she scoffs at you shaking her head slightly.

“Me and you both know that theirs more to the story then what your letting on y/n your lies aren’t gonna cut it this time, they may

work on ma but i know when your lying”.

your sisters voice sounds more firm and more confident then your own.

Trembling slightly you continue to act oblivious, biting your lip as you do so, this time drawing a small amount of blood.

“There’s nothing more to the story just drop it katie”

You can’t look at her in the eyes, you can’t tell her the full extent of what happened in fear that she’ll judge you or blame you for what happened.

scoffing she closes her eyes before taking a deep breathe as comes and sits opposite you placing her own hands in yours and looking up at you searching for clues as to what was going on.

“I know your lying to me right now i’m not stupid, we can sit here all night and keep going round in circles until you tell me the full truth, no more running from it and no more lies”.

You didn’t know what to make of that statement, you’d never heard her be so firm with you before, You knew deep down you wanted to tell her what happened that night and what happened at school you wanted her comfort in fact you needed her comfort, one of her hugs.

“Do you promise you won’t be disappointed you can be angry but please don’t be disappointed in me i’m really sorry katie”

Katie’s face softens slightly and she shakes her head.

“ I’ll never be disappointed in you y/n angry yes but never disappointed im so proud of you bug i always will be no matter what”.

“erm like maybe 3 or 4 months ago um well i went to a party and um this boy he he”

you couldn’t finish your sentence, the memories from that night came rushing back to you, the way he smelled and the way he spoke to you, what he did to you, it repulsed you to think about, to think of his touch.

“ i- i can’t-t breathe”

whatever anger Katie had previously held towards you completely disappeared as she wrapped her arms around your shaking body.

“i’ve got you sweetheart let it all out it’s okay, i’ve got you”

#arsenal women #beth mead #vivianne miedema #awfc x teen reader #katie mccabe x teen reader #caitlinfoord #womensfootball #woso #leah williamson

[avatar-anna]

The Newlywed Game

Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe

young dad!harry and young mom!reader play the newlywed game!

wc: 5k

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

“Okay, Mom, Dad, please state your names for the video.”

Harry and Y/n shared a look like they couldn’t actually believe they were doing this. It was a quick one, though, and Harry was the first to snap his head back towards the phone propped up on a tripod. “Hello, I’m Harry. Collette’s dad.”

Y/n resisted the urge to roll her eyes. As long as she’d known him, Harry always introduced himself like he was some random guy that taught at the local high school and not a world famous musician. Harry caught his wife’s stare and raised his eyebrows at her, a question in his eyes. Y/n ignored it and proceeded to introduce herself as Collette’s mom.

A few months ago, Collette decided she wanted to start a YouTube channel. Since they tried to keep all six of their kids out of the limelight, it wasn’t something that Harry or Y/n were exactly thrilled to hear about. At first, Y/n had said no, telling her second oldest daughter that she was too young and didn’t have any business making videos on the Internet for the general public. She felt bad at how quickly she shut it down, especially since Collette was rather upset about being told no, but her mind was still made up.

What was most surprising was that Harry was the one who convinced her to say yes. Y/n couldn’t believe it. In all the time they’d been together, her husband appeared on his social media accounts only a handful of times. He was practically anti-social media, yet here he was, encouraging her to change her mind. “I talked to Jeff, and he said he would help keep an eye on things.”

“I don’t know, Harry. She’s seventeen. And the internet can be so cruel. We’ve done such a good job keeping them away from all of that.” Every one of their kids’ social media accounts had their comments turned off. Most, if not all, of their social media posts were pre-approved before getting posted, though that was becoming harder and harder the older they got. Simone, who was in college now, was still careful, but she wasn’t telling her parents about each picture she posted on her Instagram either.

“I think it’ll be fine,” Harry had insisted, kissing her cheek as she got the next day’s lunches ready for the twins, Collette, and Natalia a couple of hours after she had said no. Her daughter had groaned and looked like she was about to stomp her foot in frustration, but instead she told Y/n that she was the worst mom in the world and was ruining her life. Y/n was more than ready to tell her daughter that she better not be speaking to her that way, that fiery, argumentative side rising to the surface of her typically calm demeanor. They argued for a few minutes, then eventually left each other alone to blow off some steam. Collette stomped up to her room, but knew better than to slam her bedroom door, and that appeared to be that.

Harry had come home to a tense house, his wife and daughter in their separate corners and not talking to each other. He’d gone to Y/n first, asking her why the house was so quiet when it was usually buzzing with some sort of chatter. That’s when Y/n told him about Collette’s request, her answer, and the blow up that followed. Harry had gone upstairs a little while later to smooth things over with Lettie, who was quick to rest her head on his shoulder and vent about her mom.

“She doesn’t get it, she never does,” she’d said.

Harry ran his hand through his daughter’s hair, careful not to pull too hard on any knots. “Did you ever stop to think that she said no because she loves you and wants to keep you safe? Your mum has been on the receiving end of a lot of hate,” he said gently. “We don’t want to see that happen to you or your brother or sisters, peanut. It feels extreme, but we’re just looking out for you.”

Collette didn’t have anything to say in response to that until she eventually grumbled, “She didn’t have to be so mean about it.”

“Maybe not. Did you try to explain why you want to do this?”

“She didn’t even give me a chance! She just flat out told me no.”

He could hear the shakiness in Collette’s voice, the same shakiness that always appeared when she was frustrated. Whether she liked it or not, she was like her mom in more ways than she would ever know. It made a small smile flicker on Harry’s face to see a reflection of the woman he loved so much sitting next to him. His daughter.

“Your mum and I want to do what we think is best for you. You know that our lives aren’t as normal as we’d maybe like them to be.”

“Dad, I know, but I really want to do this. All my friends get to post about their lives whenever they want and I have to check with you or Mom first. It’s suffocating sometimes. It just feels like you don’t trust me sometimes.” Collette stopped for a moment, and Harry knew that this was something that had been on her mind for a while.

“That’s not why we have these rules, Collette. Not at all.”

Harry wanted to give her the world, and in a lot of ways he had, but he’d never really thought about how their rules might feel restricting, having only ever wanted to keep their children safe. And Simone never really had a problem with it, so Harry and Y/n figured it would be the same for the rest of their kids. But of course it wasn’t the same. All their kids were different and dealt with things differently.

Simone was more on the introverted side, had a close group of friends that were okay with keeping to themselves—although as Harry thought back, perhaps his oldest daughter was just going along with their rules but felt different on the inside, he would have to ask her about it later. Collette was the opposite, though. She had a large group of friends that liked to go to school sports games and parties and the beach. She’d always liked photography and taking pictures of her family if they were willing, Natalia usually her main subject; it was a feat if she managed to get Harry or Y/n in front of her camera, though. In a way, he shouldn’t have been surprised that this was something Collette wanted.

“Tell me more about it,” he’d said then, and his daughter’s responding smile was enough to make him crack. But he couldn’t say yes yet, he had to talk to his wife first.

So after making good on his promise and talking to his manager, making sure his little girl was safe and happy, they let her make her videos.

They were mostly pretty short, just of her doing her makeup in front of her camera and answering questions about her family. Sometimes she would ask Harry if she could borrow his clothes, and he would say yes because she was always borrowing something of his to wear to school, but to his surprise, it ended up being for a video, something with a title along the lines of turning her dad’s grandpa sweaters into something “cute.” He frowned when he watched it with Y/n in their bedroom one night, but she just laughed, more on board with her daughter’s hobby than ever. In other videos, she let her siblings join in—she’d do their hair or makeup or take them shopping or making food in the kitchen.

It wasn’t until Y/n appeared quickly in one of Lettie’s videos to do her hair for homecoming that requests came in to see more of her parents. She’d come to them and asked if they would sit down and play a game for one, and after lots of begging, they eventually caved.

“Tell us what you’re going to be doing today,” Collette said from behind the camera, a set of questions ready to go in her lap.

Harry looked relaxed in jeans and a sweater, his hair artfully messy as it always was. Y/n was in a pair of leggings and one of Harry’s old sweatshirts. It was black with the print faded to the point where it was barely visible, but through the sharp lens of Collete’s camera picked up what looked like a picture of the earth with words printed over it. Collette had frowned at her parents’ casual attire, but she decided not to comment on it seeing as she got them to film this video in the first place. And not that it really mattered anyway; in pajamas or dressed up for one of Harry’s events, her parents always looked fantastic.

“Erm, we are here to play the…sorry, peanut, what’s it called?” Harry said. His brows furrowed, like he was trying to recall the title Collette had given the video a few days ago.

She’d printed out a list of questions that they were going to answer today with the title printed in bold at the top. Like Y/n, Collette was very organized and had a list for practically every little thing that she did. Y/n looked over the list thoroughly while Harry decided to wing it on the day Collette said they were meant to film her video.

“Babe, don’t call her peanut on camera,” Y/n chided, shoving her husband’s arm lightly. She saw Collette’s frown from behind the camera when the name left Harry’s lips and was quick to correct him. She knew that all the stuff her daughter didn’t like could just be edited out, but Y/n figured things would go a lot smoother if their daughter didn’t get flustered and upset with them in the first five minutes of filming this video. Smiling cheerfully at the camera, Y/n said, “We’re playing the newlywed game, remember?”

“Right!” Harry said, his face lighting up at the familiar name. “Right, I remember because we’re playing a game for newlyweds even though we’ve been married for years.”

“Yeah, well, this will be a test to see how well you know each other after being together for so long,” Collette replied.

After that, they recorded the rules of the game—writing their answers to a number of questions about each other on little individual white boards, each right answer won them a point, and the one with the most points won the game.

“Okay, first question,” Collette said, looking down at her list. “When is your spouse’s birthday?”

“Spouse?” Y/n muttered, writing her answer down without hesitation. “Kind of formal, but alright.”

“But isn’t that what we are, love?” Harry asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

Y/n merely hummed before turning her whiteboard over. “Easy. February first, nineteen ninety-four.”

Harry flipped his own board over, his answer correct, too. From there they answered more trivia about their relationship—anniversaries, favorite colors, zodiac signs, how old they were, and so on.

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“Who’s the better driver?” Collette asked.

Both of them were quick to jot down their answers. When they lifted their boards up to show their answers, Harry scoffed. “That is not even true.”

Y/n looked at her husband’s board, and saw that he’d written himself instead of her. “Not even! I’m a much better driver.”

“Y/n, I love you, but every time you get behind the wheel you drive like we’re in a high-speed chase.”

“I do not!”

Looking beyond the camera, Harry asked Collette, “Lettie, back me up here. I’m the better driver, right?”

“No, no. That’s not how that works. You can’t ask her,” Y/n said. “And besides, she’d disagree with you anyway.”

“It’s not that deep,” Collette said, trying to diffuse the argument before her parents could get started. Over the years, she realized that her parents didn’t fight very much, but their silly arguments could get quite intense, as both her mom and dad liked to be right. “Can we just move on, please?”

“I can’t believe you think I drive like a fugitive,” Y/n muttered as she wiped her answer away in preparation for the next question.

“I love you,” he said in reply, kissing her cheek when she grunted at him.

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“What is the best gift you ever gave to Dad?”

“Oh, I know exactly what he’s going to put,” Y/n said confidently.

“No you don’t,” Harry pouted.

Y/n resisted the urge to tease him. “That’s the whole point of this game, H.”

“Okay, show your answers,” Collette said before they could get into another little tiff over nothing.

Harry flipped his first, his messy scrawl reading, 6 beautiful children. Y/n grinned and showed her answer, revealing that she had in fact written the exact same thing. “What did I tell you?”

“Must you be right all the time?”

Y/n pretended to think about it before saying. “Mm…Yes.”

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“Who is the better dancer?”

Harry rolled his eyes at Y/n’s smug smile, but scribbled down his answer anyway. After Collette counted down from three, they showed their answers, both whiteboards saying Y/n.

“To be fair, you have improved a lot since we first met,” Y/n amended, having seen the bashful look on Harry’s face.

There was a time when Harry used to be embarrassed by his lack of coordination. He was okay at dancing onstage to his own songs, but outside of that, he had trouble finding the beat. Y/n was no professional by any means, but she was definitely better than him.

That all changed though when they managed to sneak off to some club together. Once a month, one or two or all of the boys agreed to watch Simone while Harry and Y/n went out on a date. They usually didn’t stay out long, but it was nice to feel their age once in a while, to let go of responsibilities for just a couple hours.

All night, Y/n kept trying to pull Harry out onto the dance floor, perhaps a little tipsy and feeling the bass a little too much, frowning every time he said no. Harry felt bad, but the fear of looking like an idiot was stronger, despite the club being so dark. So he told her to go and dance while he went to the restroom. Y/n sighed, clearly not happy with him. This was their one night of the month to let loose and spend some alone time together, and he was being so grumpy. Not wanting to let him ruin the night for her, she turned and went anyway.

When Harry came back, it took him a minute to find Y/n, but when he did, a wave of jealousy washed over him. She found a partner to dance with, which could only be Harry’s fault, but he didn’t like how close his then girlfriend at the time was to the other guy. He knew Y/n would never cheat and that she really was on the dance floor to just dance, but he just couldn’t handle seeing her with someone else like that.

Harry pulled Y/n off the dance floor, saying he wasn’t feeling well and that he wanted to go back to the hotel. Y/n saw right through his bullshit, but she left with him anyway.

“Okay, what is going on with you?” she asked once they were in the confines of their car. “You didn’t want to dance, so I found someone to dance with.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate the apology, Harry, but I want to know what’s wrong. Talk to me.”

They were so young, and yet Y/n was so mature about the whole thing. Having a baby before twenty would do that, he supposed.

Harry sighed. He knew it wasn’t really a big deal, and the fact that he was making it one made him even more embarrassed. “I can’t dance.”

Knowing this was obviously a touchy subject for him, she tried to keep a straight face. “Okay…What parts do you have trouble with?”

“I don’t know, all of it? I just feel so awkward.”

Taking his hand in hers, she asked, “Why have you never told me this? We could’ve gone somewhere else.”

“I know, but you seemed excited about tonight. And it’s just embarrassing when you’re…you know…”

“What?”

“Love, respectfully? You’re fucking sexy.”

Y/n blushed. There weren’t very many moments where she felt even remotely desirable sometimes, let alone sexy. “Oh stop.”

“It’s true. I’d look like an idiot dancing with you.”

Harry pulled into the back of the hotel and put the car in park, but neither of them got out. Leaning across the middle, Y/n gently took his face in her hands and kissed him, running her thumb across his cheek the way he liked when he needed to be comforted.

“I think you’re exaggerating a little. You’re not as bad as you’re making yourself out to be.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said, frowning.

Y/n kissed away the wrinkle between his brows. “I’ll teach you, baby. Don’t worry.”

“Right now?”

“Mm, sure, why not.”

Both of them got out of the car, Y/n leading Harry to her hotel room. Simone was in Zayn’s room, so they had the place to themselves for just a little bit longer. From her phone, she queued up a song, something slow and easier to dance to.

“Okay, so you’re dancing to the beat of the song, not the what’s being sung,” she said, resting her hands on Harry’s hips. “Just feel the music. Let it move you.”

Harry started off a little awkwardly, but the longer Y/n coached him, the better he got. He followed her lead, stepping when and where she said. “See?” she said, smiling up at him. “You’re so good.”

He couldn’t hide his smile. Now that he was getting the hang of it, Harry couldn’t believe he didn’t dance with Y/n more often. His hands were on her hips, she was moving against him sensually, and in the heels she was wearing, she was just tall enough to kiss him whenever she wanted.

It was safe to say that Harry was Y/n’s forever dance partner after that. Y/n was obviously still better, but he’d come a long way. He took each and every one of his daughters to their respective Daddy/Daughter dances and never left his wife alone on any dance floor.

Collette, of course, didn’t know much about her dad’s dancing, just that he danced like dads often did. “Yeah, Dad, you’re not bad, Mom is just better.”

Harry shrugged and sighed playfully. “Can’t argue with that, can I?”

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“Okay, Mom, what is your favorite Harry Styles song?”

“Oh that’s hard, there’s just so many to pick from,” Y/n said, holding the board close to her chest. In truth, she had one in mind, but she was also thinking about what her husband would write as his answer, which made her hesitate.

She looked up, only to find that Harry was already waiting to meet her eyes. From behind the camera, Collette watched as her parents had a silent conversation. They stared at each other for a couple seconds, then finally seemed to end their conversation and went back to their whiteboards.

“Dad, you first,” Collette said, gesturing behind the camera for him to show his answer.

Harry flipped his board around revealing the words, “Track 15.”

Y/n flipped hers around to reveal the same thing.

“Do you want to explain?” Collette asked. She knew the song of course, but seeing as it was an unreleased song, she felt her parents should elaborate for the video.

“It’s a song H recorded for our what? Third wedding anniversary?” Y/n said. “It’s a love song, and little JuJu is on it, and it’s so sweet. I cry every time I listen to it, I think.”

Harry smiled at her. “You do.” Then to the camera, he said, “I play it when she’s cross with me too. Reminds her why she loves me.”

Y/n’s mouth opened in shock, clearly unaware of her husband’s make-up tactics. But then she closed it and gave Harry a look. “We’ll talk about it later.”

A look of fear crossed Harry’s face, and Collette just shook her head behind the camera before moving onto the next question.

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“How did the two of you meet?”

Harry and Y/n were quick to answer on their boards, and when they flipped, they had the same answer.

“Her friend was an extra on the What Make You Beautiful video, and Y/n came too. Caught my eye immediately.”

“That is not what happened,” Y/n replied. “Zayn buried him in sand while he was taking a nap on the beach and I was the only one who wanted to wake him up.”

“I remember it differently,” was all Harry said.

“But,” Y/n added. “He and the boys joined my friend and me for a game of beach volleyball, which they’d never played before, and I will say you were quite flirtatious.”

“Knew what I wanted,” he said with a confident grin.

In truth, Y/n was surprised when Harry approached her. Her friend was the one who thought he was cute, and she was the one who was in the music video, so Y/n didn’t think any of the boys would notice her, much less take an interest in her. And he didn’t really talk to her until much later in the day. Niall and Louis were kind of the only ones who talked to her between shoots, and she thought Niall was quite funny.

To be fair, all of the One Direction boys were cute and funny and charming, but Niall was the one she had drifted toward at first, if only because he made her feel the most welcome. Later on, Harry had attached himself at Y/n’s hip while they played volleyball together. And long after too. He pulled her toward the shore and walked with her, asking her all sorts of questions from where she was from to what she was doing the next day. It was unexpected after he hadn’t spoken to her most of the day, but Y/n became more and more smitten the longer they talked.

As someone who wasn’t flirted with often, Y/n, for lack of better word, ate it all up. She thought he was so kind and she liked his smile and his pretty green eyes. She remembered feeling so light when her friend dropped her off at home, Harry’s number scribbled on a piece of paper in her back pocket. In the back of her mind, she knew she probably wouldn’t see him again, but he texted her that same night and asked if she was free tomorrow, and it just kind of spiraled from there.

Y/n never expected one little afternoon would turn into a lifetime with Harry, but she sometimes felt like it had been fate that she’d been there that day, even if her friend didn’t speak to her for a week for stealing Harry’s attention.

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“Which of you tends to get the most jealous?”

“I’d say neither of us get very jealous,” Harry said thoughtfully.

“Not anymore. You’ve always had a bit of a jealous streak,” Y/n amended. “Remember at the video shoot and Niall was chatting with me?”

Harry scratched his head and looked away from his wife. “No.”

Y/n laughed as she recalled the memory. “He was kind of the only one that day who would stop and talk to me before Harry did, and I remember looking over and thinking about your dad,” she said to Collette, “who pissed in his cereal this morning? Because he had this frown on his face whenever I caught his eye, and I’d hardly even spoken to him!”

“Uncle Niall was hitting on you?” Collette asked, unable to hide her disbelief and slight disgust.

“The correct response, thank you,” Harry said.

Y/n shook her head as if they’d had this conversation a million times. “He was talking you up, babe.”

“What?”

“Yeah. He said you were too shy to make the first move, but you ‘fancied’ me. It was so cute.”

Harry had been nervous to talk to Y/n. She’d woken him up at the beach earlier in the afternoon, but she hadn’t spoken to him since, and Harry didn’t know how to strike up a conversation with her. She was this beautiful American girl who just seemed so cool, so out of his league. Harry was slowly gaining confidence from being in the band, but he still got tongue tied around girls he fancied, and Y/n was no different. It wasn't until Zayn pushed him over to the volleyball courts that he felt confident enough to be more charming. Y/n made him comfortable enough to be himself, and he knew he needed to do as much as he could to let him give her his number so he could see her again. Harry wasn’t going to be in LA very long, so he knew he had to make those couple days count.

Boy did he ever.

“We used to get a little jealous, but,” Y/n shrugged, “I don’t know I think we just grew out of it, don’t you think?”

“I’d say that’s pretty fair,” Harry agreed, though he knew how much of a hard time his wife had the first year or two they were together. It was hard for her to watch him flirt and be cheeky with other women on national television or go on fake dates when she was home with Simone. Harry was never tempted, not once, but he knew that he would’ve felt similarly if the roles were reversed.

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“What is Mom’s favorite tattoo of Dad’s?”

“I don’t even think I know,” Y/n said as she tapped her marker against her whiteboard.

“Definitely not the butterfly,” Harry muttered, scribbling something down.

“That’s not true! It was just jarring to see at first. You didn’t even tell me you were gonna get it!”

Harry shrugged and winked at the camera. “I like to be spontaneous.”

Collette waited for her parents to finish writing their answers, though she was surprised that this was the one that took the longest for Y/n to answer. When it looked like they were done, she said, “Okay, three, two, one, flip!”

Harry’s board read, Brazil. When he saw Y/n’s answer, he scoffed. “Really?”

“I don’t know, I think it’s cute!” she said when he judged her answer if, palm tree. “You’re like a little California girl at heart.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I figured Brazil one because, you know, you actually did that one.”

The truth they refused to admit was that deep down Y/n’s favorite were the fern tattoos. She always took extra time kissing them whenever they were intimate, but neither of them were willing to admit that in front of their daughter or on camera.

“Close second,” Y/n said with a knowing glance at Harry.

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“Who said I love you first?”

Harry and Y/n answered with a resounding, “Harry” and “H.”

Y/n leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I was quick to follow, to be fair.”

Harry shrugged, a smug little grin on his face. “I was still first.”

Y/n just rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were flushed, as if she was remembering the day right then.

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“Okay, and last couple questions. What is Dad’s drink of choice?”

When asked to reveal her board, Y/n turned it around, the words “neat tequila” written on it. She felt pretty confident about it, but when Harry turned his board around, she frowned. “Since when?”

“Your dad turned me onto Scotch years ago,” he said, looking at her incredulously.

“Lies.”

“Babe, every Christmas your dad and I share a drink together. It’s like our thing.”

“You have a tequila reposado every time we go out.”

“That‘s…also true,” Harry admitted, grinning sheepishly.

Collette decided that was a good time to move on. “And what’s Mom’s?”

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“Okay, everyone! That was my parents playing the newlywed game!” Collette said, now sitting between Harry and Y/n.

She did her usual sign-off with her parents, though both insisted that they revealed who won the game. It was close, but Harry beat Y/n by two points, which Collette knew would be the topic of conversation the next couple days. Her parents were weirdly competitive with each other.

It was safe to say that that video was Collette’s most viewed. People went crazy over seeing Harry and Y/n together like that when the didn’t normally make public appearances unless it had to do with Harry’s music. They were often dubbed “Hollywood’s Most Elusive Couple” for a reason, so to see them in a video together, and one where they talked about their relationship, at that, was a pleasant surprise for everyone.

Request after request came in to see more of Harry and Y/n, but Collette knew it would be a while before her parents agreed. Not that she minded, she was just glad they agreed in the first place.

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

[littleadaline]

Broken Record [P.G6]

Tous les mêmes by Stromae

Warnings: Angst 🤭?????

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: In my anti-Cupid era. COPE.

Part II

——————————————————————————

First occurrence:

“Pablo Páez Gavira! Your socks are on the stairs again!” You yelled out, picking up Pablo’s sweaty training socks. A few weeks after moving in together, Pablo’s habits started to worsen. Socks left and right. Shirts left and right. Unkept personal space, hair from his beard trimmer sprinkled in the bathroom sink. Every single time, an argument erupted.

“Pablo, your socks are still on the stairs. I asked you to put them away hours ago. I’ve already done laundry, I’m not doing a load just for your socks.” Your words echoed against the four walls of your room, Gavi’s focus being solely on his phone. “Oye, I’m talking to you!” You snapped your fingers at him.

“Mh, yeah. Thanks for the laundry, amor.” He said, barely looking up from his phone.

You sighed, exhausted from picking up after him. “Why do I stay?” You asked yourself.

Calling Aurora, you sobbed as you explained her brother’s behaviour.

“I don’t know what to do anymore. He’s just… a slob. Dirty dishes everywhere, dirty clothes. Tissues and towels randomly discarded. I don’t recognize the state of our home anymore. And I can’t keep cleaning for the both of us anymore, not as he undoes everything the second I’m done.”

But Aurora’s words were only excuses. She made you feel hysterical; unreasonable for feeling the way you did. She idolized Pablo’s actions, refusing to see the emotional and physical strain his behaviour had on you. Sobbing in bed, you turn away from Gavi, refusing to sleep face to face anymore.

Second occurrence:

The house was a mess. With his injury Gavi was always home. You, on the other hand, were juggling between your university classes and your internship, leading to an easier than normal exhaustion rate. Finally pulling up to your street, you prayed that Gavi had remembered to call the plumber. Opening the door, your face fell as you saw the state of the kitchen.

“Pablo…?” You called out for him.

“Gaming room.” His eyes were glued to the screen, barely greeting you as you came into the room.

“What happened in the kitchen?” You asked, a twinge of exhaustion in your voice. You were bracing yourself for one of Pablo’s nonchalant answers.

“Wanted to cook, but the dishwasher was broken. And I was too tired to do the dishes by hand. Why didn’t you tell me the dishwasher was broken?”

“Please tell me this is a joke…Pablo I told you to call the plumber, because the dishwasher is broken. The plumber goes on vacation for the next 3 weeks. That’s 3 more weeks with a broken dishwasher.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Dunno what the big deal is… You can just wash them by hand. Besides, how was I supposed to know to call him?”

“I left you a reminder on your phone, a voicemail and a handwritten note in the kitchen.” You said, slamming the door close.

Instead of catching up on the reports for your internship, you spent that night cleaning up Gavi’s culinary mess. You were finally putting away the final dishes when Hurricane Páez Gavira came and undid everything, leaving you in a state of emotional distress. “Why do I still do this?” You asked yourself.

Third occurrence:

Pablo Gavi. That was the name everyone in the media was talking about.

Gavi, rising midfielder, caught going out with a social media influencer.

Pablo Páez Gavira is simply a man.

Y/N Y/LN unable to keep her man away from other women.

Is infidelity a requirement to being a football player?

Headlines had your head spinning. Yes, Gavi has been caught going out with an influencer notorious for breaking couples. But you weren’t worried, not anymore. Your relationship was barely functioning at this point, with you and Gavi sleeping in separate rooms. In the eyes of the media, you and Gavi were still dating. But in private, you had gone from lovers to strangers in the span of a few months. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, the news stung, but something inside of your soul burst. A feeling of hope overtook you. You started packing your bags, leaving behind anything that reminded you of Gavi. After everything you had put yourself through in order to save the sinking ship that was your relationship; after the nights spent praying for a better partner, you finally had your way out. Gavi would forever be painted as the villain in your relationship, the reason why you had split, the reason why you had changed. And you didn’t mind, not one bit.

“Where are you going?” Pablo’s voice interrupted you.

“Away.” You coldly answered. He shuffled closer, picking up the hoodie he had given you for your 2nd anniversary.

“You forgot to pack this.” He handed it to you. It took a lot of self control to not smack it out of his hands.

“Keep it. I have no use for it anymore.” You lifted your suitcase from the floor, bringing it to the hallway.

“What if you get cold?”

“Why do you care, mh? Why do you suddenly care? Is it because you were caught with that influencer? Was it worth it? Was she worth it? I loved you, Pablo. I really did. But you proved yourself to be a selfish person, and an ever more selfish lover. I’m leaving,” you held back tears. “ I’m leaving this city, you, this house. Whatever happens to you in life, good luck. Maybe we weren’t meant to workout, but I would have loved to be treated with some much deserved respect in this relationship. I hope this failure serves as a lesson for your future relationship.”

“Respect? I respected you-” Pablo started arguing, but was cut off by your voice toppling his.

“You never respected me. I was left to pick up the slack, rain or shine; tired or not; I was the sole caretaker for this house. I cooked for us, I not only cleaned up after myself, but after you! For things I shouldn’t even have to remind you! Like your fucking socks, or the goddam dishes, or to call the fucking plumber. You couldn’t even bother Pablo. And I grew tired. So maybe you cheating off with this influencer isn’t that bad of a thing, because now I have an excuse to say to your face as to why I’m leaving you. Have fun being the villain in this story, Pablo, because I’m done.” You picked up your remaining bags and loaded them off in the trunk of your car.

Pablo was still standing in the doorway, his face closed off. He couldn’t do anything besides watch your car leave the driveway, the portal closing behind you for the last time.

#gavi x yn #fc barcelona #pablo gavi #gavi #barca #barcelona #gavi imagine #gavi one shot #gavi x reader #ferran torres #pedri #fermin lopez

[what-even-is-thiss]

What do you think would our world be like if Christianity hadn't been invented? I'm not trying to start an anti-christianity argument, I am just wondering... Because it transformed our world and our cultures so much. For example, no Christianity = no colonization as we know it, would we still believe in heathen / nature gods or would another religion colonize the planet? What would that look like? Would we even have racism? Since "race theory" was invented by white christian colonizers to "justify" slavery.

I do think that it’s possible colonization would’ve happened in one form or another. What it would’ve looked like, I’m not sure. But people often forget that cultures with religions other than Christianity have historically erased and conquered.

As a Christian I don’t excuse the sins of those who share my faith. Their forgiveness is up to their victims, themselves, and God. And I recognize that Christians as a whole have a tendency to ignore our bloody history. But I also don’t think the world would necessarily be that much better without it. Different? Absolutely. Better? How would we know that? It wasn’t the only or first major religion to spread like wildfire. It wasn’t the only or first religion to be used to justify atrocities. Look at historical examples in Communist countries. Atheism being used to erase people’s religions. Look at the history of Islam. One of Mohammad’s first big feats was launching a military campaign. Look at Ancient Rome. Even though they let people keep their gods they still plugged their own gods in where they didn’t fit, used them to justify horrible atrocities, and severely discriminated against Jewish people.

People in power just want an excuse to justify their actions. Religion or lack thereof makes for a convenient excuse whether we like it or not. Without Christianity the world would still have power-hungry people looking to force their will on others and they’d find an excuse. Possibly in some other religion, possibly in something else. But Christianity became a world religion so long ago that I cannot tell you what I think would’ve happened exactly. If modern racism wasn’t invented something would still be contributing to discrimination.

Perhaps the cult of Isis would’ve taken over the world. It had some similar ideas to Christianity in some ways including a focus on love and a good afterlife for its followers and it was spreading a lot even though some tried to ban it. Maybe it was on its way to being the state religion before my guy Jesus showed up. And temples and shrines of Isis being erected in town squares would be the first step in colonizing an area.

Perhaps the Chinese would be the first to colonize the new world. Or the Arabs. If Islam existed in some form or another. Or even with their old gods. Perhaps the traders of west Africa or the Norse. If you ask me, someone at least was bound to make contact across the water one way or another and unfortunately bring diseases like smallpox and measles with them. What their response would’ve been, I’m not entirely sure. Humans are often xenophobic, but they are also often caring.

It’s taken centuries for the native populations of the Americas to return to their pre-Columbus numbers. Whether or not that recovery would’ve happened faster under different leadership, I’m unsure because as the different colonizers demonstrated over time, there’s many different ways to “deal” with native populations. The English preferred to drive them out, the Spanish attempted to absorb them through intermarriage, the French slowly encroached on their territory and disrupted and took over their economies. And later in Africa and Asia the goal by all was generally to use the land and it’s people as a resource rather than a place to live.

Colonization was an extreme example and expansion of pre-existing techniques and attitudes. There can be arguments made that something like colonization was inevitable eventually with expanding technology such as better ships and guns. There can also be arguments made that it wasn’t. That guns don’t promise colonization. Perhaps something akin to old empires would’ve happened instead. Which isn’t always much better but is more contained.

Whether or not Russia as it exists at the size it is today is also up for debate. Some would argue it’s inevitable. Someone setting up shop in that exact spot has several flat weak points of land easy to invade from so any empire in that spot would find that the only way to protect themselves would be to own all of the land surrounding them. Then again, perhaps nothing is inevitable and that patch of land would be conquered and reconquered switching hands forever.

Alternate history is almost pure speculation. It’s fiction. A popular genre of fiction. You can probably find a book out there telling a story about this if you like.

#roman said a thing #religion mention

[haunted-headset]

Ok so hear me out

Wilbur and Y/n arguing.

Then y/n wanted to k!ll herself but..

Guess what Wilbur did...

He moved the knife away and kisses her...

💔 There’s a Reason London Puts Barriers on the Tube Line 💔

Summary: You & Wilbur have a massive argument & all of your su!c!dal thoughts came back, so you ran to Jubilee Line to do your deed. What you forgot is that Wilbur can track your phone.

A/N: Hello! Tysm for the ask! I changed the story up a bit so that the reader doesn't use a knife since knives kinda trigger me :/

word count: 796

proofread: nope

tags: @vibestillaxxx@joviepog@ax-y10@themonsterunderurmom @wilburstan@smolsleepykitten@funnyreally2009@crows-death@dykepunz@aresriiots@0miamor0 @cathers-world@defonotval@chipch0p@mazzistar16@unmellowyellowfellow@justalittlebitofchaos@thosecolorfulsheets@vopix@taylors-version-from-the-vault@aine-lasagna@merianakross@veeislost@urfav-sapphic-siren@shazbaz58-blog @wifiatthetrainstation@mcr-pr-fob@shd454@universe-friday@rqvii@idioticion@m0thza (let me know if u don't or do wanna be tagged!!)

warnings/cw: the reader has su!c!dal thoughts, two attempted su!c!des, mentions of an overdose, arguing/yelling, swearing

This was the worst argument you'd ever had with him in your three years of dating him, & it made your head hurt & your chest feel tight. You had attempted to kill yourself two days ago by overdosing on your anti-depressants.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Wilbur shouted. "Are you fucking stupid, Y/N?! You could've seriously hurt yourself!"

"That's the point!" You shouted back. "That's why I did it! & I already told you I didn’t want to talk about it, yet you kept insisting!"

“That’s because I fucking care about you!” Wilbur yelled. His fists were balled & his eyes, like yours, were bloodshot.

"Well, did I ask for you to care about me?” you cried.

He let out a loud groan of anger & pinched the bridge of his nose. "God, I fucking hate you."

Your eyes widened in shock. He'd gotten angry at you before, of course, but he'd never said that he hated you before. "You don’t mean that," you murmured as more tears rolled down your damp cheeks.

"Right now, I do," he said icily. "More than anything in the world.”

You glared at him. "More than the I love yous?”

His eyes met yours & his expression softened slightly. “…You’re being unfair."

"How the hell am I being unfair?!" you exclaimed. "You're being the unfair & shitty one here! Instead of asking me if I'm alright, you just--you just get mad at me! & when I say I don't want to talk, you keep pressing & pressing & pressing!"

"It's not my fault nor my problem that you're a depressed bitch who doesn't do anything to try & improve their mental state!" he yelled.

With burning tears in your eyes, you started to tie your shoes. Wilbur sighed & said, "No, please don't leave, I-"

"Just shut up," you snapped before you walked out, slamming the door behind you. You started to walk through the rain to Jubilee Line, which would take about forty minutes. You stepped in a few puddles on your way, which drenched your shoes & legs, & you forgot to grab a hoodie, so your entire body was soaked in rainwater.

When you finally arrived, tears rolled down your cheeks & mixed with raindrops as you remembered the song that Wilbur had written a year or two ago. He was rambling on & on about how crappy the mental health was in London & how the city was doing nothing to help their citizens, & how he'd see people kill themselves on Jubilee Line & nobody would say anything or try to stop them, & instead of trying to help the people by improving their mental health services, the city just built barriers on the tube, & the barriers didn't really do anything. & you told him that he should write a song about that. Within an hour, he'd written a song about it, & for the majority of that hour, he would tell you how much he loved you & how creative you were.

You walked up to the barriers & saw that the next train was arriving in five minutes. You kicked with all of your might on the glass until the glass broke. You smiled sadly. The barriers, like Wilbur had said, were shit.

You took a deep breath & held back your tears. You took a step forward.

You were about to fall onto the tracks.

This was it.

It would finally work.

You heard a familiar voice scream your name from behind you.

& then somebody pulled you back & hugged you. It was a sobbing Wilbur.

"L-love, I don't ever want you to die, please...don't die..." he said between his sobs. "I-I'm sorry for yelling, I'm sorry for hurting you, I didn't mean it, I didn't mean a fucking word, I don't hate you, I never would, darling..."

You pressed your face into his chest & sobbed with him as you both murmured apologies to each other. He pulled you away from his chest only to pepper kisses all over your wet face.

"Please, don't go...I just need to feel your arms around me, mon amour, that's all I've ever wanted," he cried. "I don't want to lose you."

"I'm sorry," you whimpered. "I'm sorry for-"

He cut you off with a kiss. When he pulled away, he cupped your face & said, "You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N. You're the one who's struggling & I didn't even think about that, & I was such a dickhead to you."

"So you don't hate me?" you said with a sniffle as he wiped your cheeks.

"I would never hate you," he whispered. "C'mon, let's go home. I think there's a lot that we need to talk about."

#mental health #mental health awareness #wilbur soot #wilbursoot #lovejoy wilbur #fanfic #wilbur #creative writing #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur x reader #dsmp wilbur #wilbur mcyt #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x reader fluff #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x you #qsmp wilbur #tw sui implied #tw

[ecoterrorist-katara]

Katara would’ve been such a good diplomat (it’s canon)

everyone rightfully hates on the ATLA comics because the politics are baffling and the characterization is even more so…but if there’s one thing we can take away from the dumpster fire that is The Promise, it’s that Katara was BORN to be a diplomat and an international force for peace, okay? Especially since her besties, the Avatar and the Fire Lord, aren’t actually very good at this.

If you haven’t read The Promise, the Wikipedia summary is pretty good. The TL;DR is that Zuko and Kuei agree that the Fire Nation colonies need to be returned to the Earth Kingdom. The colony of Yu Dao is not happy about this because the people of the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom have been mixing together (under inequitable conditions) for more than a hundred years and “just kick out the Fire Nation” is not as straightforward as it seems, since there are blended families now. Zuko refuses to kick out the Fire Nation people from Yu Dao, Kuei wants to play hardball, and they almost launch another war. Oh and there’s a weird plot about Aang debating whether to put Zuko down like a rabid dog

For all that the Wiki page does a good job of summarizing the events, it forgets some key facts: 

It’s Katara who first starts thinking about new solutions after witnessing the situation on the ground, and then comes up with the idea that Zuko and Kuei should meet and talk about the colonies:

It’s Katara who tells Kuei that Zuko has legitimate concerns (without saying that Zuko is right), when Aang tries to hedge and sugarcoat the truth: 

And it’s Katara who says to Kuei, wait, what the hell do you mean that you have no idea what your people want, that Yu Dao is just a dot on the map for you? We’re getting you out of this stupid blimp and you’re gonna talk to people before you make a decision that affects their lives, you coward

To recap, Katara demonstrates some pretty freaking key political skills, like: 

finding out what people want before making a decision for them 

seeing people as people first and foremost, not as fire nation or earth kingdom 

encouraging her loved ones, the Avatar and the Fire Lord, to resolve a conflict by beginning negotiations instead of brawling like a couple of drunks at a bar / kids on the playground (both analogies fit btw, 13-17 is a weird combination of ages)  

realistically reporting tricky disagreements without sweeping them under the rug

kidnapping a king to the middle of a battlefield to give him a reality check about listening to the people he’s trying to rule

Anyway, Katara is hyper competent at both war AND peace! We see this in the show, with her compassion for the prisoners of the Earth Kingdom (by inciting a prison riot) and the suffering people of the Fire Nation (by committing ecoterrorism), only now that compassion is backed up not only by her fighting prowess and speeches about hope, but actual ability to manipulate the levers of power. 

And have I mentioned that she has the ears of both the Avatar and the Fire Lord and her dad is Chief of the Southern Water Tribe? Even if Katara didn’t get a diplomat position based on her skills, or her status as a war hero, she could nepo baby her way in. The fact that she does not pick up a career in international diplomacy is a crime & a colossal oversight from the creators. At minimum you know Katara would’ve established Healers Without Borders or something. She deserves to be yelling at people at ATLA UN and then drafting world-changing resolutions. 

And as a bonus, Katara demonstrates her gift for diplomacy by not smacking Zuko up the head for attempting to legitimize colonization through the argument of economic progress…

…and by not smacking Aang up the head for seriously considering anti-miscegenation as a viable political solution: 

This patience is a new development because show!Katara did not have this in her, but maybe this is what growing up is all about and not just yet another strike on the “comics are wildly OOC” tally

TL;DR: ATLA boys lost their brain cells post-canon. All hail Katara, Sugar Queen of international diplomacy. 

#Katara #Katara deserved better #atla comics #Chief Katara of the Water Tribes #United Republic Councilwoman Katara #Ambassador Katara #I’m not picky which one she becomes I just want her to exert political power as a principled and fair and compassionate representative #She saved the world it’s only fair she gets to run it especially since unlike most nepo babies (ie monarchy) she’s qualified #pro Katara #atla #my meta

[crispycreambacon]

Ending April with a small parting gift. I’m gonna miss this.

Anyways, an announcement of my own.

The short of it

I’m leaving the Watcher fandom. Don’t worry, I won’t be unfollowing anyone, but I will be ceasing the creation of art for Watcher and interaction with the community at large. Thank you all for this short but meaningful ride. Feel free to unfollow me if you were here for Watcher art, and for those who stick around…

Thank you :]

I hope to not disappoint with this new era of mine.

The long of it

It’s been a couple of days since a certain channel dropped an announcement that imploded its fandom. It was… a mess. A lot—and I mean a lot—of us didn’t handle the news well, and we made that known to everyone. The impact was so massive that YouTubers, who are nowhere near the niche that Watcher operates under, covered the situation, and some of them explained very well why the decision went over so poorly. Meanwhile some of them made fun of the situation, and some were just there for the clicks, but that’s the cycle of YouTube drama for you.

With the amount of ears waiting for even a peep out of their mouths, Watcher couldn’t ignore the backlash any longer and released an apology video three days after the announcement. By all accounts, it was a pretty good response. The reception was mixed, but it was definitely more well-received than their first video, and they actually listened to their fans who gave them valid criticism over the sudden shift to a streaming service.

However…

For as much as I appreciate their response, I still can’t find it in myself to continue following Watcher. I really mean it when I say this disaster soured any enjoyment I had for them. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to watch them again for a long time without thinking about this situation or remembering the people they have hurt, even if unintentionally, through their poor execution of a business decision.

Do I believe they could’ve pulled off moving their content to a streaming service? Absolutely. However, so many factors doomed this decision and their announcement from the start from them believing that $5.99/month was “affordable to everyone” (seriously?) to them insisting that this was for the fans even though the fans have vocalized that they were never there for the high production value. They were there because the three guys who run Watcher were enjoyable!

I feel like if they had been honest about the fact that the TV quality they are aiming for was more for themselves than anyone–hell, it’s the mission statement in their About page, and, I don’t know, considered the idea that $6 is not cheap, especially for international fans, people wouldn’t have gotten so angry at them. Now, there are still numerous issues plaguing this business model, but to go through all of the arguments would require a separate post, and I’ve already expended too much energy on this situation. Needless to say, Watcher has burnt their bridges, and it will take a while before they can build them back up again, let alone get people to trust them enough to cross them.

On the other hand, I can’t blame Watcher fully for my departure. Despite my heavy disagreement with their initial decision, I understand why they thought this decision was a good idea in the first place as YouTube is a very unstable career path, and it would rather hurt its creators with its relentless demonetization, censorship and restrictive guidelines than give up just a tiny amount of its profit. Besides, they’re in control of their content, and they could do what they want with it even if their fans disagreed with them.

Speaking of the fans, my god. The situation revealed a side of the fandom that I never thought I would see, but in hindsight, I should have seen it coming. To see fans resort to anti-Asian racism and death threats so quickly was extremely heartbreaking, and as an Asian person, it made me feel very unsafe and unwelcome in the community.

Moreover, using Steven as a scapegoat to absolve Ryan and Shane of any wrongdoing was unfortunately a very common response. Yes, he is the CEO, and yes, his series being centered on traveling and eating expensive food really doesn’t paint him in a positive light, but need I remind you that RYAN AND SHANE ARE GROWN ADULTS. They’re the founders of Watcher, and they both have to agree to the initial plan for it to be implemented. You can’t assume that Steven was a boogeyman terrorizing your precious little boys just based on a 15-minute video. You don’t know what’s going on behind the scenes.

All of this to say that the initial announcement combined with how the community reacted violently to the announcement really nipped my interest in Watcher in the bud. It was a shame too because I really did love Watcher, and I still do. Had it not been for the time I invested in following them, I wouldn’t have made great friends, regained the joy in creating art–even reviving a hobby/skill that I assumed was long dead, and had a reason to be able to laugh or smile even in terrible days. I truly am grateful for Watcher, and I do not regret ever getting into them at all. However, I think it’s time for me to go.

Thank you all for this weird and wonderful ride, but at some point, you’ll have to hop off. I just didn’t expect to hop off it so soon.

#Back to hiatus I go (for real this time) I’ll see y’all in 3 weeks 🫡 #I’m more sad than anything #But alas we move forward #Thank you everyone #It was fun while it lasted #the professor #puppet history #watcher #watcher entertainment #we are watcher #art #chris p fried art #chris p fried rambles

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie, diary, detention ^^

Oh, y'all are getting sick of Eddie fluff fics? Too bad, sorry xoxoxo 💚

Warnings: none, all fluff!

WC: 1.2k

--

“Goddamn Carver,” Eddie mutters to himself, slinging his backpack onto the desk and plopping into the attached chair. “Always running his goddamn mouth and then pulling the ‘But I have basketball practice’ excuse to get outta trouble.” He brings his voice up to a grating falsetto, mocking the jock’s whiny tone. “But does Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson get the same courtesy for his Hellfire campaigns? No, sir, he does not.”

“Wonderful monologue, Mr. Munson,” Mrs. O’Donnell says dryly, heels clacking as she walks through the open doorway. “Perhaps you’ll be a playwright in your next life.”

“Like one lifetime isn’t enough,” Eddie grumbles, low enough so his least favorite teacher can’t hear him. 

O’Donnell peers at him over her horn-rimmed glasses. “You know the drill better than I do, Mr. Munson,” she scoffs with a wry smile. “One hour. No talking, no music, no funny business. You may do homework if you’d like, though I don’t anticipate you choosing now to act like a star student.” 

Eddie slumps down into his seat. He’d already counted all the ceiling tiles last week when he ended up here after shoving Patrick for picking on Dustin Henderson. Guess I’ll start on the floor tiles now, he thinks grimly. 

He makes it to 28 before something catches his eye. In one of the baskets underneath a desk is a purple leather-bound notebook. The way it’s resting halfway out of the basket looks like it had fallen out of a backpack or accidentally left behind. It’s too fancy to only be used for school, and it piques his curiosity. 

“Uh, Mrs. Oh-Dee?” Eddie blurts out, shooting his hand up in the air. “Can I grab a textbook? I think I’m gonna take you up on that homework offer.”

The teacher rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she quips. “And for the last time, stop calling me that.”

But Eddie’s already scrambling to the seat, plucking the journal from its spot and shielding it with a history book. As soon as he opens the cover, his eyes widen. 

This diary belongs to is printed on the first page, with a name handwritten in neat cursive underneath. 

“Shit,” Eddie breathes, earning a scowl from O’Donnell. This is your diary. 

Eddie doesn’t have too many classes with you; you’re in mostly honors courses, while he’s in his third senior year. But you do take health together, and he constantly finds himself stealing glances at you whenever he can. 

He knows he shouldn’t read any further; he can close the diary and turn it into the Lost and Found box. But Eddie Munson’s never been known for his impulse control, and before he knows it, he’s skimming the pages. 

Most of the entries don’t draw too much of his attention. There’s one from a few weeks ago about an argument you had with your best friend, but Eddie’s seen you two laughing together since then, so he assumes all’s well. A few days ago, you’d just written, “that history test was a bitch” accompanied by a frowning face. Eddie laughs quietly, knowing you’d probably aced it. 

It’s the entry after that where he finds what he’s looking for. 

Mr. Ellison paired me up with Eddie today! We had to work on an anti-smoking poster together, which was ironic, because he reeked of cigarettes. He asked me what I was doing this weekend, and I thought he was going to ask me out, but he didn’t. Guess he’s not into shy nerdy girls. Then again, who would be?

Eddie’s heart sinks into his stomach. If you only knew how much he wants to take you to dinner, hold hands across the table, maybe kiss you after splitting an ice cream sundae. He had planned on asking you out that day, only to wimp out at the last second. 

He hastily tears out the page and pulls out a number two pencil that’s sharpened down to a nub. In the margins next to your entry, he draws and arrow and writes:

He’s definitely into shy nerdy girls, but he didn’t think you’d be into loud metalheads. Meet me at my locker tomorrow before health?

He slips the diary into his bag, vowing to put the note in your locker after his prison sentence—erm, detention, is over. 

~

The next day, Eddie waits by his locker in between second and third periods. His heart pounds in his chest, and his stomach is doing that flip-flop thing it does before a gig. He relaxes a bit when he sees you walking towards him, note in hand. 

“Hey,” you say softly, holding up the sheet of paper. “Did you…”

Eddie laughs nervously. “Y-Yeah, that was me,” he admits. 

Your ears heat up, suddenly bashful. When you found the note, you’d assumed it was some prank by one of the jocks. The fact that it actually was Eddie gives you heart palpitations. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” you manage. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way about me till, y’know, I read it,” Eddie mumbles, hoping you’re not too angry about that. 

You cross your arms over your chest. “So, we’re just snooping through diaries now? A bit juvenile, dontcha think?” But your tone is light, despite the truthfulness of your statement. 

“It, um, wasn’t my finest moment,” Eddie’s cheeks turn pink as he reaches into his bag, “which is why I wanted to show you this.” He pulls out a tattered composition book and hands it to you. “It’s not as cute as yours—oh, which I also have, heh.” He offers you your beloved purple journal. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, ensuring that it’s now safely stored in your own backpack before bringing your attention back to his notebook. “What’s this?”

Eddie bites his lower lip anxiously. “It’s my lyric book,” he explains sheepishly. “But not the one I show the guys. This has all my lovey-dovey songs in it. Y’know, shit they’d kick my ass for.” Another nervous chuckle. “They’re, um, they’re about you.”

“Me?!” you ask incredulously. 

“Yeah,” he smiles, letting his fingertips graze your hand. “Figured it was only fair, since I totally read your stuff.”

You flip through the pages, heart warming at the words etched on them. Lyrics like, her smile melts me like snow on my tongue/grow old together but we’ll always feel young make you giggle. “These are really good,” you muse. 

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Not too corny?”

“Oh, no,” you tease him, “they are extremely corny. But I’m a sucker for a good rhyme scheme, so…” You trail off as Eddie grins. 

“Maybe I could play them for you sometime? Like after school today?” He winces, hoping he doesn’t sound as desperate as he thinks he does. 

You nod. “I’d like that.”

“Cool.” Eddie closes his locker and turns to you slowly, a mischievous twinkle in his chocolate brown eyes. “Actually, what do you say we ditch health and hang out at mine? I promise I’m a lot more interesting than whatever Ellison is going to lecture us about today.”

You peer around the hallway, making sure it’s clear of teachers before slipping your hand into Eddie’s larger, calloused one. “Let’s blow this joint.”

“That’s my girl.”

--

#bug's 2k celebration #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

[baurbiediv]

hate to be lame {2}

PAIRING ➔ jj maybank x pogue!reader, jj x kiara (oops.)

WARNING(S) ➔ small mention of cheating, crying

SYNOPSIS ➔ tensions begin to face an all time high following the aftermath of you and jj’s argument, things become very rocky and you worry that he’s began to fall out of love with you and has found someone else who’s better for him.

BASED OFF THE SONG ‘hate to be lame’ by lizzy mcalpine (i recommended listening while reading!)

part one ➔ here

A/N ➔ thank you for all the love on capsize + the first part of this! and i am NOT A KIARA ANTI YALL PLEASE, that’s my girl fr

-

two weeks.

a whole two weeks had passed by since a word was spoken to jj and to make things worse, it was an argument. one thing the both of you agreed on was to never be mad at each other, clearly that didn’t work out.

trying to get jj to understand what he did was reckless didn’t quite go the way you expected it to. emotions got the best of you, and resulted in you emotionally lashing out on him.

ultimately, this caused jj to retaliate but before you could say anything else, it was already too late. by then he’d already told you to get out, there wasn’t anything else that could’ve possibly been said or done to change the outcome of this.

so now here you were, right back at the chateau. looking out the window, there he was, jj. the yellow and orange hue of the peaking sunset hitting his skin almost perfectly. how badly you wanted to get up and tell him that you love him and you were sorry and that the accident caused you to freak out and you could get pass this.

but it wasn’t that easy, whenever something like this happens, he starts to push away. not because he wants to, but because that’s what he’s used to, when he loves someone too much, he pushes people out. this wasn’t easy like people had always said, jj wasn’t the easiest person to read yet you already knew that.

you watched as kiara, pope, sarah, and jj all gathered onto the dock laughing while john b made his way back to the chateau. “y/n, you coming along? i’d hate to leave you by yourself.” he said, snapping you out your thoughts.

“oh, yeah let me grab my bag.” you told him, for the first time in a couple of weeks john b was probably the first person to see you even remotely crack a small smile. he gave you a thumbs up before leaving the house. without noticing, you’d been playing with the star pendant on your necklace.

it was the sole purpose that reminded you why the two of you were even together, you were his star that kept its light in the midst of his darkness. but that light was slowly losing it’s shine.

you took a deep breath before recollecting your thoughts and making your way down to the dock. noticing how kiara had stood very closely to jj, you swallowed the impending lump in your throat, that jello feeling taking over your body this time.

pope noticed as he looked at you, “you okay y/n?” he asked you worriedly, you gave him a nod, “i’m alright, thank you pope.” you whispered as he helped you board the boat. after what seemed like minutes, the boat finally took off and the group searched for a place to stop and relax.

everyone seemed to be having fun, except you. the thing is, it wasn’t on purpose, this is how you were feeling. you tried to cheer yourself up but it wasn’t working. your own boyfriend didn’t seem to care about the upset mood you were in, hell, two weeks. no texts, no calls, no nothing.

you watched the way kiara and jj interacted with each other. looks and touches lingering longer than they were supposed to, jokes being exchanged between the two.

you weren’t jealous, but kiara knew what had happened between the two of you, why were they all of a sudden closer (as if they weren’t already close.) together.

staying on the boat, you watched as everyone jumped into the water. you covered yourself in your jacket and the emotions has finally overcome you. the tears kept coming, you poorly attempted to keep your sobs quiet in hopes to not draw attention to yourself.

everything happened all at once and way too fast. during these two weeks, this was the reason why he wasn’t reaching out.

because he found someone better, someone who could be there for him. you were always there when he needed you, the one he turned to whenever he had problems with his father, or himself.

the girl he was supposed to confide in the most. all the love, all the time, all the joy, spent with you had gone to waste. and over a stupid argument that could have been prevented.

god how you wished to just disappear into thin air right now.

—

you found yourself sitting alone in the chateau again, and watching the group all gather around a small bonfire. kiara, closely wrapped around jj. never did the feeling of betrayal feel so raw right now. you looked away and felt your body sink lower into the couch.

the door swung open, to your dismay, jj. the blond boy saw your figure but didn’t meet eye contact with you. he made his way to the kitchen, this was your opportunity to talk to him. gathering your tired limbs you too, made your way into the kitchen.

it was fairly small, so there wasn’t anyway you’d be standing far from him. “j, can we please talk?” you asked him, his back turned to you. his body tensed at the sound of your frail voice. he turned around to finally face you.

you missed his face.

some cuts from past adventures were now healing. “yeah.. what do you want to talk about?” he said leaning against the counter.

“us. what are we?” you looked at him.

he sighed, not being prepared for this confrontation.

“you haven’t spoken to me in two weeks. i’m losing my mind here j. i know i shouldn’t have lashed out on you, i’m sorry.” you said, shifting your weight between both of your feet.

jj ran his hands through his hair as he let out a frustrated sigh, “i’m sorry y/n. i really am,” he breathed out, eyes landing on the chain he bought you, you still kept it on.

“i pushed you away because i fucked up. a couple days after the argument, i told kiara everything. my head was everywhere and .. and we made out.” he told you.

way to go.

your heart quite literally felt like it just got ripped out right of your chest and stomped on. you leaned against the counter and put your hands on both sides on your face before bringing them down to your mouth.

jj looked at you, his eyes full of worry and sorrow. he hates that he did this to himself, to you.

“did you do anything else?” you quickly got out not wanting to avoid any more hurt.

“no. absolutely not.” he breathed out.

you ultimately broke down and he pulled you into a hug. “y/n. i’m so sorry, it meant nothing.” he spoke softly as he kissed the top of your head. you cried as much as your heart would let you right into his chest.

“i’m so fucking sorry i didn’t anything sooner. i couldn’t bring myself to tell you. i knew we left on bad terms and i didn’t want to make it worse, i’m so sorry my love.” he said rubbing your back.

“jj.” you said, lifting your head from his chest. you calling his name alone was enough to grab his attention.

“don’t ever do this again. from now on we tell each other everything. you have to start trusting me, i can’t have you pushing me away. not then, not now, not ever.” your eyes glossy.

he nodded, you hugged him tightly as he rocked you side to side.

you were his star that kept its light in the midst of his darkness.

—

#jj maybank fic #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank #jj maybank x pogue!reader

[ishomieokay]

Idolatry (Chapter 1)

18+ 7.k homelander x hispanic oc, age difference, strenght kink, loss of virginity, religion kink, slow dancing, light dom/sub, rough sex, nebulously takes place post s03e03. part 1/?. AO3 link, part 2.

Homelander's fooling around with a perky Latina almost twenty years his junior. She's looking for a daddy. He just wants a good fuck, and maybe to mess with Maeve's head. It's not going to end well.

Aura María realized that the party had reached a point of no return when the Junior Manager of Crime Analytics climbed onto a table and started singing a Luis Miguel song at the top of his lungs. His name was Ethan, and he neither knew the lyrics nor spoke a word of Spanish. 

She observed the dance floor from her seat at the bar, cringing at the increasingly deteriorating dancing skills of the guests. Ashley Barret, the Head of Superhero Affairs at Vought, clearly had too much to drink. Like an octopus, she had possessively wrapped her limbs around Cameron Coleman, a news anchor she was rumored to be dating. If their roaming hands and slow, inebriated motions were anything to go by, they had long forgotten that they were at a corporate party and not in a dimly lit club downtown.

Earlier, a well-known Paramount producer had approached Aura María about her latest documentary. She attempted to do some networking, but it didn’t take long for her to deem it a failed enterprise. “I heard The Invisible Boy was a great success at Cannes this year. Congratulations! Your take on Translucent’s untimely demise was so moving,” he said, and although initially, she was flattered, soon it became apparent that it was not her he was seeking to engage in conversation with, but rather her companion for the evening.

Goddam leeches, she thought bitterly, even the ones on top gather around if the smell of blood’s tempting enough. 

Aura María shook herself, unwilling to let the nuisances of the industry dampen her good mood. “What ya say, champ? Wanna head to the dance floor?” she asked, poking fun at her date’s intermittent Southern accent. The Homelander blinked at her as if perplexed by the invitation. After a beat, he smiled widely, revealing a row of bright and unusually sharp teeth. 

“Oh, no. I don’t dance,” he replied, in a tone that broke no argument. “Like, at all. Especially not… this.”

Aura María didn’t miss the contempt in the slight arch of Homelander’s eyebrow or the dismissive wave of his hand. She pursed her lips, trying not to feel affronted. 

To a certain extent, she knew where she stood with him. Although neither Homelander nor Vought had an open political agenda, Aura María had a vague idea of the type of man he was and the beliefs he held. His anti-immigration stance was not a secret to the public. Still, a part of her had hoped it was only a matter of appealing to his fanbase. These days, the Seven’s golden boy was more popular with the older generations, and primarily with people of white descent. 

Surely he wouldn’t have asked her out if he actually had an issue with Hispanics, though? Were that the case, she couldn’t fathom why he would invite her to a Latino-themed party for a first date, especially if he found the mere notion of dancing to a Caribbean beat so distasteful. 

“Do you even know what this is?” Aura María asked, crossing her arms. 

“I dunno. Some traditional Cuban dance? It kinda looks like that scene from Dirty Dancing just… dirtier.” Homelander wrinkled his nose but thankfully refrained from commenting further. 

Aura María wanted to be annoyed, but she also knew better than to take his old-fashioned prudishness upfront. As frighteningly good as he was at maintaining his squeaky clean Boy Scout image, she had been working in the entertainment industry long enough to recognize it for what it was. She wondered if he would allow her to see the real thing if she stuck around long enough.

“It’s called Bachata and it’s actually Dominican.” Aura María tilted her head to the side, a teasing smile spreading across her face. “You get points for not assuming it’s Mexican, though. I think we’re making progress.”

Homelander frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nuthin’,” she replied, standing up. “Come on, don’t be such a spoilsport. If you wanted to spend the entire gala sitting around watching other people dance, you shouldn’t have brought me as your date.”

“Right, my bad,” Homelander deadpanned. “It won’t happen again.”

“Uh, uh,” Aura María tutted, shaking her head. “You ain’t getting out of this one so easily, mister.” 

She extended her hand towards him, wriggling her fingers. Homelander stared at her for a long moment, as if weighing his options. For a moment, Aura María thought that she would be refused again, but then he sighed and relented, taking her hand. “Fine, let’s get it over with,” he said, allowing her to lead him to the dance floor.

They were right on time. A Romeo Santos song had just started playing. If she was going to give America’s Dad some dancing lessons, she better start off with the good stuff. Homelander stood awkwardly before her, seeming unsure of what to do. Taking pity on him, Aura María grasped his hands. “You don’t have to look so worried,” she said with a smile, “I’ll lead you.”

Homelander’s mouth curled downwards. “I thought the man’s supposed to lead?” 

“We’ll get there. I just gotta show you the steps first,” Aura María replied, amused despite herself. She then proceeded to make a quick demonstration. “See? It’s real easy. Just one, two, three, four, again and again.”

“O-okey-dokey.” Although Homelander smiled, there was something decidedly strained about the gesture.

It was a rare sight - a man built like a wall and almost twice her size, gracelessly fumbling around and searching her face for guidance. Aura María felt a bit bad. Homelander went through the motions, and although it looked stiff and awkward, it wasn't the worst she'd witnessed as far as first tries went. 

“Okay, you’re getting it. You’re just too still. Try to shift your weight while you move.”

She put a hand over his waist, trying to guide him through it, but Homelander refused to move an inch. She arched an eyebrow at him, and he huffed out a breath. Then he rolled his hips in a strange, floundering motion, shifting his weight from one side to the other. He looked like a fish on land, desperately squirming around in an attempt to jump back into the water. Aura María tried and failed to stifle her laugh. 

“My god, you’re such a fucking white boy.”

Homelander glared down at her. “Don’t know how to tell you this, missy, but María or not, you too are white as bread.”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Aura María replied. “But I’m also Venezuelan, so I’m still the better dancer. You’re at a genetic disadvantage.”

“Uh." Homelander arched an eyebrow. "Can’t say anyone’s ever told me that before.”

He put a hand on her waist then, pressing her against his chest. Aura María was somewhat startled by his demeanor, not at all like the carefree, downright corny persona she knew from TV interviews and brief workplace interactions. Although he’d been known to venture into politics here and there, Homelander’s brand content had always remained vanilla and family-friendly. His character was designed to be wholesome, goofy, and almost comically artificial, at least to the discerning eye. 

The man currently flashing bedroom eyes at her was someone else. Someone real. It was like a breath of fresh hair. Aura María knew what a rarity it was to witness even a touch of authenticity from anyone so far up the ladder, especially when it came to a man whose entire life seemed to be a convoluted PR stunt. She felt like leaning forward and kissing him. There were eyes on them, though, and that was enough to make her hold back, at least for the time being.

Aura María turned her attention to the side of the room and took notice of Queen Maeve staring in their direction. At that distance, she found it hard to make out her expression. Maeve didn’t seem happy, though, and it made her stomach twist with unease. Homelander and her had ended things amicably, as far as the public was aware, but Aura Maria wasn’t naive enough to take that at face value. 

She wasn’t into gossip as a general rule and preferred to avoid drama whenever it was possible. No matter how rich or devilishly handsome he was, she wasn’t thrilled by the idea of fighting with anyone over a man, especially with a supe who could easily crush her like a bug. Aura María shook herself, looking away. They were broken up and had been for some time. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. 

“You know, for a white boy who’s never danced before, you’re doing really good,” she said, allowing the gentle sway of the music to carry her through the crowded room. She kept a tight grip on Homelander’s hip and forearm, taking him along for the ride. He visibly struggled not to preen. How strange. The strongest man in the whole wide world, and a few words of acknowledgment were enough to make him flush. Or was he just playing coy?

“No need to appease my ego, María. I know I suck,” Homelander said, but she could tell that it was a pretense. Just another line out of his well-rehearsed repertoire. Aura María felt her lips tilting downwards. It was disappointing to see the mask slipping back on, and after catching only a few fleeting glimpses.

“Not at all,” she replied, just to be nice. “I’m having fun, either way.”

When they left the gala, there was a crowd full of reporters and paparazzi waiting outside. Homelander effortlessly dodged their questions. His hand stayed on the small of her back as he guided Aura María forward, almost hunching over her, as if sheltering her from the camera flashes.

It seemed news anchors were in for a field day. Aura María was always amazed by how easily Vought’s flimsy attempts at playing the inclusivity card worked in their favor. Putting some salsa on and serving piña colada at a party during Latino Heritage Month was really all it took these days. 

Aura María wished she could play along with her date - smile and wave at the ravenous beast of the American press, the way she’d seen public figures and talent do countless times over the years. It didn’t come naturally to her, though. She had always felt more comfortable standing in the corner. 

Homelander opened the door of the cab, leading her inside, but Aura María was too irritated to appreciate the gesture. She tried not to think too hard about what the tabloids were going to say about them tomorrow morning. Homelander spotted leaving party with mystery woman was a real possibility. On the other hand, it could be something along the lines of Rising Director María Dávila reportedly dating Homelander, 17 years her senior. Both were offensive and off-putting in their own way. 

She gave Homelander a glance over. He appeared unbothered, leaning against the back of the seat with his eyes closed. She allowed herself to stare while his guard was down. He was a beautiful man. It was the reason she agreed to go out with him despite their age difference, which wasn’t small. So much so that Homelander had already been quite a celebrity when she was still in elementary school. 

He looked remarkably well for his age, although he had some wrinkles across his forehead, as well as prominent laughter lines. Aura María had always assumed that he was a natural blonde, but the darker, brown roots of his hair were now noticeable to her, even in the dim light. She found it odd to realize that a man who was often advertised as the pinnacle of masculinity actually wore makeup and dyed his hair. 

“Do you ever get tired of it?” Aura María asked. Homelander turned to look at her and blinked as if he’d forgotten he had company.

“What’s that?”

“The cameras? The crowds following you around? Seems exhausting.”

“Nah, I’m used to it. Sides, what’s wrong with giving the people what they want?” Homelander said with a self-satisfied smile. 

Aura María arched an eyebrow, bemused. “Man, you’re insufferable.”

“And still you agreed to go out with me, so what does that say about you?” Homelander’s expression didn’t change, but a trace of laughter shone in his clear blue eyes. He was teasing her. 

Aura Maria felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and she turned towards the window to hide it. “Nothing good, I can tell you that.”

“Here we are. Home sweet home,” Homelander said, and although his voice was full of warmth, something about it sounded artificial to her ears. It was the same tone she used when giving an interview at NBC, or congratulating the crew after a long day at set. Something to pick at later.

“I can’t believe you actually live here,” Aura María said, stepping out of the cab to look up at Vought Tower.

“Nice, isn't it?” 

“Nice isn’t the word I’d use.” Aura María wrinkled her nose. “Looks like something out of a bad 90s movie set in the distant future of 2001.”

Homelander laughed, taken aback. “Well, that’s one way to describe it.”

He took her by the waist, guiding her through the main entrance and into the lobby. It was around three in the morning, and there was no one about but some security guards and the unlucky receptionist who got the Friday night shift. Although she looked tired, she still smiled brightly at them when they approached her desk. She had Aura María sign a visitor form before letting her through, which wasn’t terribly inconvenient as far as safety protocols went. 

“Thanks, doll. Always great seeing you!” Homelander said, playfully pointing at the receptionist. She blushed, struggling and failing to hide a toothy grin. Aura María noticed that he didn’t address her by name, though. She wondered if he was always so recklessly extroverted, or if he was putting up a facade for her benefit. 

“So, waiting for the elevator is a drag,” she said after fifteen minutes had passed, “I should have figured.”

“I usually just fly in.” Homelander was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He looked just mildly irritated by the inconvenience. “Didn’t think you would appreciate that, though.”

Aura María blinked. 

“You flying me into your bedroom in the middle of the night? The one that’s like, on the 99th floor?” She tried to picture it and actually felt a shiver run down her spine. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. I’d probably have a panic attack halfway there.”

“Come on, I’ve never let anyone fall.” Homelander grinned, but then seemed to reconsider his words. “Not accidentally, anyway.”

Aura María stared, unsure if he was joking. “Right.”

Finally, they stepped into the elevator. They waited for the doors to close, and it was only then that Homelander leaned forward to kiss her. Aura María got on her heels, putting her hands over his shoulders to keep herself upright. She was suddenly very aware of their stark difference in height. He put his hands around her waist, pushing her against the wall, and it was enough for her to feel how strong he truly was. It was a bit dizzying. 

Not too long ago, if someone had asked Aura María if she was into the big, muscly type she would have replied with a quick no and a side-eye. Usually, she wasn’t even into white men, especially not blondes. She’d only ever gone out with other Latinos, and more often than not they’d been of a darker complexion. Dating outside of her culture was an issue for her, and she even found no sabo kids were a bit of a turn-off.

There was something different about Homelander, though. Something she couldn’t quite express in words. Aura María put a hand around his jaw, angling his face slightly upwards to bite into his bottom lip. Although he could have fought off her grip more than easily, he allowed her to and it made heat build in her lower belly. Homelander’s hands were trailing down her sides. Although a part of her wanted to feel his bare hands over her skin, she couldn’t deny that the feel of the soft leather of his gloves was also thrilling.

Suddenly, the elevator was grinding to a stop, but a quick glance at the button panel confirmed that they hadn’t reached their floor yet. Auria María struggled not to let the annoyance show on her face. Reluctantly, they pulled apart. The doors slid open revealing a petite blonde girl standing in the hall. She was dressed in pajamas and by the startled look on her face, it was clear she hadn’t expected to bump into anyone at such late hours. 

“Homelander,” she said, slightly bowing her head. 

“Starlight,” he replied, smiling down at her. Something about the expression looked weird and much too tight. Aura María recognized the name and immediately understood why.

Great, she thought, another ex-girlfriend. 

Although she'd heard a lot about her, Aura María had never worked with the infamous Annie January on set. Largely because of how unwilling Vought’s new rising star had been to participate in Super in America or any other documentary regarding her personal life. By the time she finally relented, Aura María had moved on to new projects. Her days of waiting at someone’s beck and call were over, even if they were a member of the Seven. 

After a few minutes of awkward silence, the elevator stopped and the three of them stepped out. As she walked away, following Homelander down the hall, Aura María got the distinctive feeling that she was being watched. Looking back, she noticed Starlight staring after them, a deep frown on her face. If she hadn’t known any better, Aura María would have thought that she looked worried.

“You don’t really get along with any of your exes, do you?” She asked once they made it to the end of the corridor. 

Homelander stopped before the door of his penthouse, then offered her a smile a bit too wide. “Come on, now. Why would you say that?”

Aura María stared at him, unimpressed.

“That girl looked like she was walking into the elevator at gunpoint.”

“Oh, well, Starlight is…” Homelander trailed off, making a face. “She’s a sweetheart, don’t get me wrong. She just didn’t take the breakup very well.”

Aura María hummed, seeming skeptical.

“That’s a major red flag, you know? When all your relationships end badly.”

Homelander huffed a breath through his nose, and she realized, perhaps a bit too late, that she should back off. He was starting to look genuinely irritated. When flirting with overly confident men, Aura María often came across as a smartass. A lot of them were weirdly into it, and it was always fun to take them down a notch. She wasn’t looking to overstep and ruin the night with her antics, though.

“You get along with all of your exes, then?” Homelander asked, narrowing his eyes at her. Aura María made a face and he noticed. “What?”

“Nuthin.” She swayed back and forth on her heels, flashing him a teasing little smile. “Are you gonna invite me in?”

“Do you want me to?” Homelander was staring intently at her. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, just barely.

“I don’t know,” Aura María replied, shrugging. “Maybe I came all the way up here just for a goodnight kiss.”

Homelander laughed, shaking his head. Aura María got on her heels, leaned forward, and just like that they were kissing again. He made a pleased sound at the back of his throat, and something inside her unraveled. This was a point of no return. Aura María was mildly surprised by her lack of fear. Shivering, she put her arms around Homelander’s neck, deepening the kiss. This wasn’t like her at all, and she’d been certain that she would end up backing down at the very last second.

That was certainly out of the question now. 

“I don’t think you did,” Homelander said in a rough voice, pinning her down with those sharp blue eyes of his. Aura María laughed, a little breathless.

He opened the door of his penthouse and bowed, gesturing for her to go first. It was such a goofy, chivalrous thing to do that she found herself stepping inside, biting back all the teasing remarks at the tip of her tongue. Homelander hummed, looking terribly pleased with himself, and followed her inside.

“You know, this place looks exactly how I pictured it,” Aura María said, tilting her head to the side as she stared into the cold marble eyes of a George Washington bust. She took a sip of her drink - Bourbon with coke and a dash of lemon. Turns out the Homelander was good at making cocktails. Quite the feat for someone who didn’t drink himself. 

She could feel her host standing behind her, eyes burning at the back of her head. Although she was itching to do just that, she refused to turn around. 

“Really?” Homelander said, breath ghosting by the shell of her ear. She wondered if he was getting tired of it. This quiet game of cat and mouse.

“Yeah, the only thing that’s missing is a confederate flag and a closet full of shotguns,” Aura María deadpanned. 

“That’s not fair,” Homelander replied, but she could hear the amusement lining his words. “You make it sound like I’m some kinda redneck.”

“Nah, you’re worse than that. Rednecks actually believe the garbage they spew.” She turned around, arching her eyebrows in a way that she’d been told many times was infuriating. “You’re just in it for the money.” 

“Not just the money, chica,” Homelander said, winking at her. He then gestured at the room, at the American flag hanging from the wall, at the statues and paintings of the founding fathers. “It’s the glory, the power, the fame - all the pillars of this great nation. Anyone tells you they made it this far up looking for anythin’ else, you can bet your ass they’re lying.”

Aura María blinked rapidly, caught off guard. With a start, she realized that this was probably the most transparent he’d been with her all night, yet the meaning of his every word was diluted by banter and unfashionable flirting. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it. In lieu of a better response, she laughed.

“Man, you’re such a goddamn cynic, it almost makes you sound deep,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. If Homelander was offended by her reaction, he didn’t let it show. He raised a gloved hand, then caressed the line of her jaw with his index finger. There was a twinkle in his eye. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere with me, missy,” he said, and they were standing so close now, their noses were practically touching. 

“No? I rather think it will,” Aura María replied. 

“Mmn, you’ve got me all figured out, don’t ya?”

“Not my fault you’re so damn predictable.” Homelander’s hands trailed up her sides, then stopped just below her breasts, caressing her with fingers clad in red leather. Aura María shivered, biting into her lower lip. “Do you keep a bible on your nightstand, too?”

“Maybe I do,” Homelander said, and something in his voice, in the forced levelness of it, made her look up. The waiting game was over. She could see it in the arch of his eyebrow, the unusual intent of his gaze. “Wanna check?”

Aura María hesitated, then. There was no turning back, once she followed him into the bedroom. Although her stomach was fluttering with excitement, there was also a hint of fear. Homelander was stronger than her. There was not a single living creature on earth who could stand up to him, as a matter of fact, and she’d never been anything of a fighter. If she wanted to stop or slow down, she would be at his mercy. The thought made her unexpectedly anxious. 

Backing away wasn’t yet out of the question. She could make up some excuse, hail a cab, and call it a night. He probably wouldn’t stop her. Instead, Aura María put her hands on Homelander’s chest, offering him a knowing little smile. Her throat felt very dry. “Let’s see it, then,” she said.

Aura María approached the nightstand and indeed found a bible resting on top of it, small, black, and wrapped in leather. She opened it to the bookmarked page and read the first verses out loud: “The dragon stood on the shore of the sea. And I saw a beast coming out of the sea. It had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on its horns, and on each head a blasphemous name.” 

Aura María saw Homelander and the other members of the Seven in her mind’s eye, walking into the set wearing their garish, custom-made suits. Easygoing, chirpy, and deceitfully polite when the cameras were rolling, but just as quick to make snide comments and lash out at the crew when the smallest thing didn’t go their way. Superpowers or not, they were still talent. Pretty faces with fragile egos and low emotional intelligence, usually from troubled backgrounds, charismatic yet easy to manipulate. Add Compound V and it makes for a dangerous combination. 

For a whole second, Aura María considered asking Homelander if he had similar thoughts whenever he read those verses. They probably meant something to him, if he cared to bookmark the page. Then she realized what a terrible idea that was, and whistled appreciatively instead. “That sure makes for a nice bedtime reading,” she said, very aware of Homelander’s breath at the shell of her ear. 

“It does, actually,” he replied, pressing soft lips to her neck. “Keep going.”

Aura María shivered, hanging tightly onto the book’s leather cover. Homelander bit her earlobe playfully, sinking sharp canines into the soft flesh. There was a stark contrast between the man standing behind her, caressing her sides and leaving a trail of hickeys down her neck, and the supe who always walked into her set wearing a disarming smile, telling corny dad jokes and waving at the crew. This felt real. Without giving it a thought, she kept on reading.

“The beast I saw resembled a leopard but had feet like those of a bear and a mouth like that of a lion. The dragon gave the beast his power and his throne and great authority.” Aura María could see Homelander through the mirror hanging from the wall. He’d hidden his face on the curve of her shoulder, pressing wet kisses to the exposed skin there. Slowly but skillfully, he undid the buttons of her shirt. Once it was open all the way, he pulled down Aura María’s bra, exposing her breasts.

The cold of the room hit her, and she trembled. A part of her felt like she ought to complain or cover herself again. No man had ever seen her as she was now. She stared at Homelander’s reflection as he fondled her breasts with gloved hands, pinching her nipples experimentally. A long sigh escaped her. Aura María had been waiting for a long time to experience something like this, and now that it was happening it almost didn’t seem real. It felt so right, for him to be the first.

“One of the heads of the beast seemed to have had a fatal wound, but the fatal wound had been healed. The whole world was filled with wonder and followed the beast,” she read, breath hitching in her throat as she felt Homelander pulling her skirt down. 

Her underwear followed quickly after, and just like that he completely exposed her, without going through the trouble of actually undressing her. She felt hot all over. Homelander took off his gloves then, placing them on the nightstand. He trailed his hands down her chest and then her stomach, stopping just inches away from her pussy. Aura María spread her legs slightly wider. 

“People worshipped the dragon because he had given authority to the beast, and they also worshipped the beast and asked ‘who is like the beast?’, ‘who can wage war against it?’” She said, licking her dry lips as she passed the page. Homelander tapped her clit a few times with his middle finger, then slowly rubbed a circle around it. Aura María made a pleased sound in the low of her throat, tilting her head back. Then he was going deeper, slowly rubbing his fingers back and forth between the folds of her pussy. 

“The beast was given a mouth to utter proud words and blasphemies and to exercise its authority for forty four months.” Finally, Homelander pushed a finger inside and then another. Aura María could feel herself clamping around them. She moaned, pushing her lower body against him. “Mmn, that’s real nice.”

“None of that.” Homelander spanked her then, just once. It stung. Aura María thought that she ought to be offended, but for some reason, she wasn’t. She pushed her hips backward, looking for friction, but Homelander’s hand pressing against her back was enough to halt her attempts. “Be a good girl, keep reading for me.”

“It was given power to wage war against God’s holy people and to conquer them. And it was given authority over every tribe, people, language and nation.” Aura María trembled, forcing herself to stand straight again. 

She heard Homelander undoing his belt, and then lowering the multiple zippers of his suit. Anticipation was building in her lower stomach. He reached for the first drawer of the nightstand and pulled a condom out of a little plastic box. For a few moments nothing happened. Then Aura María felt the head of Homelander’s cock brushing against her opening.

“All inhabitants of the earth will worship the beast - all whose names have not been written in the Lamb’s book of life, the Lamb who was slain from the creation of the world,” Aura María said, words stumbling out of her mouth in husky breaths. Homelander was pushing inside slowly, and he felt big and almost unbearably warm. She was trembling all over. Panicking, she reached backward and put a hand on his hip, stilling him. Without her explaining, he understood and waited.

It took her a few moments to fully relax. Once she did, Aura María pressed her back to Homelander’s chest, guiding him forward. She felt full in a way she never had before. When he started thrusting, she made a pleased sound, pushing back against him. “Whoever has ears, let them hear,” she said, much too conscious of the soft sounds of their bodies coming together, her quiet moans, and Homelander breathing raggedly against her ear. 

“If anyone is to go into captivity, into captivity they will go. If any, ugh-” Aura María gulped her words as she felt a hand wrapping around her throat. It squeezed just hard enough to make a statement, but not to cut off her breathing. Her hands were shaking and still she held onto the Bible, barely managing not to sink her nails into the leather. She wasn’t even religious. Not anymore. Still, she felt compelled to play along - to indulge in this little game the Homelander seemed to enjoy so much. 

Aura María could feel her breasts jiggling with the force of his thrusts. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the reflection of their bodies moving together, just shadows and lights swaying on the surface of the mirror. She closed her eyes tightly, too unused to the idea of sharing her body with someone else - too embarrassed to witness herself surrendering, so freely, to his touch. Tears threatened to spill, but Aura María quickly blinked them away. She had really been waiting for a long time. 

“If anyone is to be killed with the sword, with the sword they will be killed,” she whispered, then let go of the book, too shaky to keep holding it up. It landed on the carpet, barely making a sound. 

Homelander lifted her from the ground, slamming her onto his cock in a few quick successions before coming. The pressure around Aura María’s neck increased to an almost alarming degree. It slacked off after a few seconds, and only then could she feel her climax washing over her. It was a strange, overwhelming feeling. Nothing like the orgasms she had coaxed out of herself in the past. 

For a while they stood in silence, catching their breaths. Then Homelander pulled out and backed away. Suddenly, the chill of the room hit her and Aura María felt very self-conscious about the state she was in. Although she didn’t really mind her nakedness, she felt a bit silly - being essentially dressed but showing all her intimate parts. In a daze, she started buttoning her shirt back up. Just as she was about to pull up her underwear, though, she was stopped by a hand circling her wrist.

“Aw, shucks,” Homelander said. “I messed up, didn’t I?”

Unsure what he meant, Aura María turned around. She gave herself a moment to take in his features - the strong jawline and hooded blue eyes, the slicked-back blonde hair that didn’t match his brown eyebrows, the long eyelashes and thin lips. He truly was beautiful. Aura María put her hands on Homelander’s chest, caressing him with the pads of her fingers. Unlike hard, compact muscle, what she touched was leathery and unusually soft. She wondered if it was padding. 

“Not at all, I had fun,” she said, smiling. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting the Homelander to have a blasphemy kink, to be honest, but maybe I should have.”

He looked skeptical, for some reason. “So, you’re not in pain?”

“No.” Aura María frowned. “Why?”

“You’re bleeding.”

Aura María followed Homelander’s gaze and was startled to see a bit of blood running down her thighs. She’d gotten so into it, the pain hadn’t even registered. Heat rose to her cheeks. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s normal, ya know? The first time?” Aura María said, leaning down and pulling the rest of her clothes back up.

Homelander frowned, blinking at the choice of words. She could clearly see the moment understanding dawned on him. He shifted where he stood, hands firmly clasped in front of him as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. He opened his mouth, closed it, then cleared his throat. “You, ah… you didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but ya know. It’s whatever.” Aura María shrugged, feigning a nonchalance she didn’t actually feel. “Virginity’s a construct.”

Homelander laughed, taken aback. “Oh, wow. Right.”

“What?” 

“Nothin’, it’s just - young people these days,” Homelander said, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. “I swear I can’t keep up!”

He smiled broadly at her, showing a perfect row of white, pointy teeth. Aura María felt a pang in her chest and did everything she could to shake off the feeling of betrayal. There it was again - the persona, and not the man underneath. Homelander headed to the bathroom with the condom in hand, presumably to dispose of it. Aura María felt her legs starting to shake, so she laid down on the bed to get some rest. She could hear water running, and then the sound of a blow-dryer. 

After a few minutes, Homelander came back. It was clear from his refreshed appearance that he’d taken a quick shower. He was wearing a new suit and had the old one hanging from his forearm, neatly folded. Aura Maria made a very conscious effort not to comment on how weird that was. His hair looked softer and fluffier, free of whatever products he used to slick it back. She should have suspected that America’s Number One Hero used a blow-dryer. His undercut always looked much too perfect. She wondered if he had a skincare routine too.

“You don’t mind if I lay down for a bit, do you? I’m beat,” she said, unsure of what to expect. If he would let her stay the night, or at least pay for a cab to come pick her up. There was a knot at the pit of her stomach. 

Homelander was staring at her strangely, as if there was something he wanted to say, but couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he went to the mini fridge and pulled out two water bottles. Handing her one, he settled on the bed beside her. Aura Maria gulped down more than half of her bottle, only then realizing how thirsty she’d become. For a while, they lay there in silence. 

“You really should have said something.” 

Although she'd been expecting them, Aura Maria still felt her hackles rising at the words. “Why?” 

“I wouldn’t have…,” Homelander trailed off, and she found it so strange to see him hesitate. He cleared his throat and tried again. “If I’d known, I would have gone about it… differently.” 

Aura Maria’s lips twisted downwards. She kept her eyes fixated on the ceiling. “I told you, man. You didn’t hurt me.”

“It isn’t about that.”

“What is it, then?” Aura Maria replied, growing frustrated. She shouldn’t have said anything. “You had a good time, so did I. That’s what we both wanted. What difference does it make if I’d never done it before?”

Homelander blinked at her. “Because… women remember their first.”

“Oh? Only women?” A contentious smile unfolded across Aura Maria’s face. She couldn't help it. At times like these, it felt like the only way she knew how to communicate with others was through confrontation. “So you don’t remember yours, then?”

“We are not talking about me,” Homelander replied, slowly and without a hint of inflection. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Despite her biting words, there was a deep coldness spreading through Aura Maria’s body. It felt like she may start shaking any second now. She wasn’t going to let him see how much his questioning was affecting her, though, or how much it mirrored her own inner voice. 

“Come on, spit it out. What’s actually bothering you?” She snapped. “Is it how kinky the whole thing was? Because I was into it. What, you think it would have been better if we had done the missionary by candle lights, covered the bed with some goddam rose petals?”

“Yes, I do,” Homelander replied without missing a beat. She would have thought that he was joking, if it weren’t for the serious look on his face. It gave her pause. For once, Aura Maria couldn't tell whether he was being authentic or if this was yet another performance. She reached out, caressing the line of Homelander’s jaw with the tip of her fingers. 

“Come on, look at it from my perspective. I got wined and dined, danced at a nice party, and now I’m in a lavish penthouse, laying in bed with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” she said, and that was enough for Homelander to blush again. Talent was never immune to flattery. “I mean, most of the first-time stories I’ve heard are cringey as hell, either way. Even if shit doesn't work out, at least I got a nice memory out of it, ya know?”

Homelander stared at her for a long moment, seeming to consider her words. “Okay,” he said eventually, “you do make a good case for yourself.”

“I sure do,” Aura Maria replied, relaxing. She wasn’t sure who exactly she had been trying to appease - him or herself. 

“How old are you, again?” Homelander asked, frowning.

“Twenty-six,” she replied, reluctantly.

“So… you waited.” Homelander looked uncomfortable now. “A bit longer than most. Why now?” 

Aura María hesitated. She herself wasn’t sure why she had chosen to have her first time one random Friday night, in what was essentially a casual hook-up with a co-worker. Even now it made little sense to her, especially after waiting so long. 

“Maybe I just like you that much,” she said with a smile, but the words tasted like ashes in her mouth. 

She knew that’s what he wanted to hear - that he was man enough to charm it out of her, to make her give up what she hadn't allowed anyone else to take. All night she had been scrutinizing his every word and action, salivating at the sight of even the smallest hint of humanity in him, but now she was the one hiding behind a mask. 

“We barely know each other,” Homelander replied, unmoved, as if he could see right through it. In an impulse, Aura Maria leaned forward to kiss him, treading her fingers through his soft blonde hair. There was a troubled look in his eyes when they parted. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Aura Maria said with a soft smile. “I’m not asking you to marry me or anything. I’ve been waiting for the right guy and the right time for a while now, and it just… never happened. I got fed up with it. Then you asked me out and I couldn't think of a reason not to.”

“So, you're saying if you had come as, I dunno, the Deep’s plus one, the outcome would have been the same? Good to know.”

“Now, you're just twisting my words.”

“Right,” Homelander said, puffed out, but there was a teasing edge to his voice. “I hope I didn't disappoint, though?”

“So far you haven't.”

Once Aura Maria had worn her capacity for restraint like a badge of honor, probably an aftereffect of being raised in a radical Christian home. Although she considered herself an atheist now, she was very aware of the consequences her upbringing had on her love life. She was tired of feeling like a nun willing her life away at a convent, though. When Homelander unbuttoned her shirt again, circling her nipple with the tip of a curious tongue, she didn’t stop him. 

It was as good a time as any to break the habit.

#homelander x oc #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #the boys #homelander #antony starr #the boys fanfic #hispanic oc #latina oc #hispanic reader #latina reader #fine I'll create my own content #lena writes #spicy content #my lover's got humor #spanish harlem mona lisa #homelanderxvenezuelanoc #homelanderxoc

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 2

Propaganda Under Cut

Elizabeth Midford

She started as just a cutie fiancée trying her best, turns out she's also a swordfighting genius, very under pressure to perform feminity in the Victorian Rose type of way. Fandom crucifies her bc she's Ciel's fiancée and they want him to be with his butler, Sebastian, the demon he sold his soul to for revenge

anime was a shitty canon divergent adaptation that butchered her character down to her "cutesy silly girly" persona, which obviously made the 2008 anime fans hate her with a passion (nothing wrong w being girly I'm just saying the adaptation made her super one dimensional) anyways fujoshis used to treat her as a villain because she's the fiance of Ciel,, who as u might know already was HEAVILY shipped with his butler, Sebastian back then (now it's kinda looked badly upon, nice tbh that ship sucks ass xD) She's a bit similar to Misa Amane from death note in the way she was treated. (Like an obstacle the yaoi ship must overcome rather than a person)

she's my silly little rabbit! i could gush about her character but i'll keep it short and just say that she's really well written and one of the best characters in the series. anyways she's ciel's fiance and she's like, rightfully annoying as any other 13 yr old girl would be but the fanbase fucking crucified her for even existing. she gets demonized for being 'annoying', but then ciel gets yaoishipped with an even more annoying guy. there is 100% an argument that lizzie/ciel is weird bc they're cousins (i personally don't ship it) but that falls flat when her detractors then ship the 13 yr old ciel with an eons old demon who Canonically looks like his father. the anime also never reached her main character development until years after its peak and that was only in a movie, so she really got the bad end of the stick here. not me though i had a giant crush on her when i was 12

Katara

Katara is constantly mistreated by the fans in favor of the Zukka ship (Zuko × Sokka.) They make her out to be mean, homophobic, and completely out of character just to add drama to the Zukka ship. In reality, Katara is very compassionate, and would never act that way toward anyone. 

Zutara was a popular ship but when zukka got popular over covid during the atla renaissance there were a million posts about how zutara was problematic while zukka was perfect usually for racist reasons. Meanwhile katara and sokka are siblings so it didn't even make sense. They did not have to be so illogically rude to her to ship zukka and it was weird

Katara is FANTASTIC I fucking love her to pieces she is so cool and yet the entirety of the ATLA fandom treats her like garbage because she “talks about her mom dying too much” (even though she BARELY does & also was parentified from a young age due to her mother’s death) and, of course, because she’s a more feminine women when compared to her counterparts. Even in the show itself she’s mistreated: she’s ALWAYS shown cooking for the rest of the gaang, doing their laundry, any ‘womanly’ task. She ends up with the guy who kissed her twice without her consent & who she never showed any real attraction to and apparently (despite being a badass warrior-doctor!!!) after the show ended she just… settled down in the South Pole and had a bunch of kids and never did anything else. She didn’t even get a statue :( Anyways during the ATLA renaissance, despite Zutara actually not being canon, people felt that Katara threatened the sanctity of the new almost entirely baseless yaoi ship, Zukka. Unfortunately for them, due to the fact that Katara and Sokka are siblings, the usual anti-Zutara arguments didn’t work as well. So they resorted to just… slaughtering her character. If she was lucky, they’d just make Katara a background character, wingwoman, &or throw her together with her canon love interest. If she was unlucky they’d do anything from make her homophobic (??) to killing her off! Fuck’s sake, she never even got a token spare-the-pairs wlw ship! Sorry for getting so heated, that whole debacle made me FUMING MAD.

#poll #round 2 #black butler #elizabeth midford #avatar the last airbender #atla #katara atla #katara

[headspacedad]

AI and the Red Delicious Apple

If you’re reading this you’re pretty much already on the anti-AI bandwagon when it comes to its promise to steal our written works and then regurgitate them in strung-together, passably readable form in order to replace us.  You’ve seen the same, very valid, arguments against letting this happen that I have and the same, also very valid, warnings.  There is no human reason a computer should be doing something humanity has done with pleasure and without prompting, for enjoyment alone, all the way back to the beginning dusty start of time - unless you want to strip the humans out of the equation and make a profit that way, which is what this is about.  I’m preaching to the choir when I say this is far and away beyond the Bad of a Bad Idea.  What I haven’t seen mentioned though is how this is going to effect the other side of the equation.  Not the creators of art -

the receivers of it.

Once upon a time, not that long ago, in the 1880s, a farmer had a rouge plant pop up in his apple orchard.  He uprooted it but the next year it was back.  He got rid of it again and, again, it came back.  Finally, he did the sensible thing and just let the plant grow.  Sure enough, it popped out apples after a time and he entered those apples in a tasting contest - because.... those were a thing back in Ye Olden Times apparently.  Anyway, wham bam thank you ma’am! They won the contest and the taste buds of the judges.  In short order the Apples, known as Stark Delicious, hit the stores and became an overwhelming favorite across the US.  They lived up to their name for sure and soon became known as Red Delicious Apples.  Farmers everywhere focused in on one type of apple and one type of apple alone as the demand for them surged.  Everyone wanted Red Delicious and so that’s what everyone planted.  Here’s the thing though.  Uniformity is king in situations like this and, instead of more Red Delicious apple trees leading to more variety, it actually led to more uniformity.  The ‘off parts’ of the apples were bred out, unattractive yellow streaks in their color, the thin skin that let them bruise easier during shipping, all the unattractive parts were left by the wayside.  Red Delicious apples soon looked as good as they tasted.  

Except - they didn’t really taste that good anymore. 

It turns out that in breeding them for uniformity and looks dropped the factors that gave them their flavor as well.  In time, every apple was a carbon copy of the apple before it and the end result was mushy flavorless thick skinned, albeit pretty, looking apples.  These days, consumers hardly touch them and farmers have started uprooting their Red Delicious in favor of Gala and the like.  Nobody liked Red Delicious anymore because there’s nothing left of what once made them delicious.

AI regurgitates what its been fed.  When its fed variety it regurgitates, to some extent, variety.  It’s intended to put the human oddities out of business, so to speak and take its place.  To turn out polished, pretty things to appeal to people’s tastes.  And, after a while, when humanity is out of the picture, it will only have other AIs to feed off of.  In time, the variety in its cannibalization will continue to narrow down as the stories become more and more alike as nothing new gets put in, as it simply tells the same ten stories, then the same five stories, than the same three over and over again.  Until its just the same words, strung together differently, with the same theme, the same character, the same half-nonsense story.  Until the inside of that story, that piece of art, that movie are all the same mealy, uninteresting mush that every other one is.  The yellow streaks and the thin skin of humanity phased out along with any hint of flavor.  The profitability will dry up as even the most spoon-fed, computer worshipers demand better.  Humanity will pick up where it left off, figuring out how to tell its own stories, paint its own art, sing its own songs and entertain its neighbors again.  Art is intrinsic to humans.  We always find our way back to it.

But the damage to the creative world in the meantime will be like a nuclear winter.  And who knows how long it will take generations raised on ‘Red Delicious’ apples to realize there are better flavors out there.

PS - nobody pushing for AI art right now cares that its not long term sustainable or that it won’t always be profitable.  It will make them money now.  The future they ruin will be someone else’s problem.  They know that.  

They’ve always known that.

#AI #ai art #ai writing #writing #apples to AI #my stuff #okay to reblog #just got to thinking about this #and figured I'd add it to the already impressive list of why #ai bad #small term small minded immediate gratification at the cost of the future is bad