#weird because it feels like im not not-woman enough to PICK something else

[many-gay-magpies]

i am becoming increasingly sure as time goes on that my gender is Not Cis but its like. not enough for me to do anything like god forbid tell my parents. not bc they wouldn't be ACCEPTING but because i don't feel like they'd UNDERSTAND and trying to explain it to them would be too much work when i A) barely even know how to describe it to MYSELF and B) feel comfortable enough being described as a woman/girl/female/whatever. like if im fine enough being called a girl and im comfortable in my body and don't yet feel a need to use pronouns other than she/her then what's the point of trying to explain to my mom that i find the concept of gender pretty much inapplicable to myself/kind of confining and i feel more like an amorphous forest creature than a Girl and i wouldnt mind being perceived more masculine sometimes by society at large and gender questions on forms make me uncomfortable because i'm never totally sure what to answer.

[not-alien-girl-v]

Lost In Reality (George Daniel)

warning: drinking, mentions of sex

note: this took me like a week to write. im so lonely wish i had a clingy lovesick george

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

r&b music is pumping through the speakers of the club. it’s dark in the vip section where you sit and a bit damp with sweat, everything is.

adam went home early tonight, you all bid your goodbyes and a parting farewell hug to him before he slipped out the door a few hours prior. it’s now nearing midnight and your fresh nail polish is chipped.

you sit alone in the private booth with ross. the two of you are tag-teaming being designated drivers tonight, figuring if you both only get mildly tipsy tonight, you can both be equally responsible enough for your two knuckleheads you’re supervising tonight.

speak of the devil, knuckle head #1 comes waltzing up to the table, looking a little lost, but when his gaze meets yours, he freezes in his spot like he’s just remembered he left his stove on, then squeezes in next to you.

“scooch over, i’m tired,” george whines, spilling onto you over the leather seat and your velvety dress.

you give hime a quick smile, feeling as though it sufficed as a brief greeting to your lover as you continue your conversation with ross. “i saw your dad at the store the other day, it was weird, he recognized me and everything.”

ross chuckles, “what was he buying?”

“i think it might have been like a few apples, maybe a-“

knucklehead #1, however, does not feel quite welcome enough, so he scoots even more into you, hand on the back of your neck, right at the roots of your hair and the other gripping your waist. “hey.”

you pause to stare at him, “hey.”

“and what else?” ross tries through stifled giggles to reanimate your dying conversation. george busies himself placing wet kisses to your neck.

“a carton of orange juice, laundry detergent,” your words are broken apart by george and his suffocating attack to your neck. when he realizes you’ve stopped talking, he uses his grip on your neck to his advantage and pulls you in for a full, smothering kiss. you humor him, not entirely enjoying the taste of tequila on his tongue but bearing it because he’s clearly needing something from you.

he pulls away, surprising that he chose to before you did, and presses his cheek into your chest for a moment, “ross, this is my woman, did you know that.”

“i did, mate.” ross glances back at you repeatedly, making fun of george without even having to say anything. george evidently does not pick up on this one bit.

“and did you know that i love her?”

“mm, it’s news to me. maybe you should let everyone else know, too.” you shoot ross a deathly glare, knowing that he knows how much you hate making a scene and you can tell he’s only joking but the knucklehead didn’t quite pick up on that.

with a cackle, he stands up, much to your horror, clinking a fork onto your glass and pulling you in close to him. you’re mildly freaking out, glad that the music in here is just loud enough that the entire establishment won’t hear this, maybe just the people near.

“everyone! listen up, im sorry. i am in love with this gorgeous woman right here! she is the love of my life! i am going to marry her!”

you swear your heart almost stops as people begin to clap. you try to pull him back down to sit and be out of the public’s eye but he resists. “kiss?” he puckers his lips already and points to them with a finger and you pout at him for only just a moment. you soon realize it’s the sole way to get him to stop, so you cave

you mean for it to be a small peck but he holds you in like he always does, the one thing that never changes about him when he gets drunk like this, pressing his lips messily to yours and holding your head too tightly that it roughs up your hair. you pull away this time, pushing him down to sit in your previous spot in the booth, trapping him in as you sit at the end.

“wow, that was beautiful, george,” ross grins wickedly and you set a mental reminder to shave his eyebrow off in his sleep when you get the chance. he’s a deep sleeper, you might just get away with it

“she deserves it. this woman right here, she single handedly saved my life. i love her. will you go to the bathroom with me?” you don’t even realize the last sentence is towards you until he nudges you with his elbow.

“to do what?” ross raises an eyebrow, wondering why he’s so involved in this conversation that has nothing to do with him.

“so i won’t be lonely.”

with an eye roll, you stand up, holding out both hands to pull your boyfriend up, “come on, big boy.” he laughs at the pet name and it’s not missed by you just how hot he is when he laughs like that, you never do.

he wraps an arm around you and you lead him outside instead of the bathroom, as fun as it sounds to take a piss hand in hand with him, you’d rather get your man home.

he stumbles outside with you, nearly taking you down with him but you steady the both of you with gentle hands on his waist. “hey. you wanna get out of here?”

his sly grin is valuable in your gaze, “any time, baby.”

“i mean, i’m going to take you home, okay?” you realize your second attempt doesn’t sound all that better.

“your place or mine?” he smirks. you decide to just let him have it if it means he’ll agree to leave.

“yours, sweets.”

he calls a cab for you, glad that he remembered how much you suck at doing so.

you snuggle up to him in the backseat while he informs the driver of the address. your rest your head on his strong shoulder and he rests his broad hand on your thigh out of instinct.

“you okay, honey?” everything about him is comforting, from his overwhelming kisses and public proclamations of love to the way that he constantly has the urge to take care of you in any way he can, even when he’s wasted. you almost feel bad about how bad his hangover is going to be tomorrow morning.

“i’m alright, handsome.” adding in the last bit just to mess with him and it works as well as you expect, his cheeks blush and a shy smile breaks upon his face.

“you really think so?” it’s not like him to ask for a bit of reassurance like this so you lean in to kiss his cheek.

“of course. i love you. so much.”

“that’s the first time you’ve said it tonight.”

you kiss his cheek again, “but do you really need me to say it for you to know?”

he smiles warmly, “no.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

you sent ross a text informing him that you had left and he replied something about how he had assumed so, doubting the pair of you spent a half hour in the bathroom.

you tucked george in with a loving kiss to the forehead and he was passed out asleep before you even climbed in next to him.

it’s now hours later in the late morning, and he was still asleep when you woke, so you decided to set up camp on his couch, mentally double fisting watching supernatural on the tv and reading a book.

it isn’t until 30 minutes of this quiet time alone that george comes slumping in, groggy and tired but awake. he stands in the doorway, looking around in confusion for a moment. “did we fuck last night?”

“no.”

you’re scared he’s going to continue with this, getting into some speech about how you’ll always have his consent, no matter what. it’s something you already know, something you’ve already established with him, but you don’t think you could ever bring yourself to be intimate with him when he isn’t fully present for it.

you know that he’s the same way when it goes for you, that he’d never lay a hand on you if you hadn’t explicitly agreed to it.

he doesn’t, however, and you’re even more grateful when he shuffles to the kitchen and begins to cook breakfast out of habit. you let him be, coexisting with him in the open floor plan of the room, you with your book and your show and him with the food and the stove.

after a good chunk of time, he returns to you, two plates in hand. passing one to you, “careful, love, it’s hot.”

“thank you.” he doesn’t say anything, feeling like he shouldn’t be thanked for simply cooking you breakfast, it seems like the least he can do.

he settles down next to you and your stretch your legs out over his lap, allowing him to rest a hand over your thighs.

you eat in comfortable silence for a moment until he interrupts it. “have you started your period?”

you almost choke, “pardon?”

“has your period started yet?” he doesn’t elaborate any more, likely until you give an answer.

“how did you know?”

he rubs up and down your leg. “i track it for you. cuz i know you always forget to. it also helps me plan our date nights better.”

“why? i mean, thank you, but why?”

he shrugs. “because i care about you.”

you study him over your slice of toast but decide to leave him be. if he chooses to show his love to you in unconventional ways, that’s his decision and you’ll accept his affection in any way you can get it.

once he finishes his plate, he sets it to the side on his coffee table and begins to busy himself with kneading and pawing at your legs. he focuses in on the fleshiest part, your inner thigh and you continue to study him like an creature nearing extinction.

“this is the best part, this right here.”

“of my thigh?” he nods.

“it’s good thigh. prime thigh.”

“ok.”

he sighs now, not loud and dramatic like you do, but a forced exhale. “i’ve got to go to the studio today, my love.”

“so go.”

“i don’t want to leave you. barely seen you this week. finally got you to myself and i’ve got to leave again.”

“i’ll stay here. i’ll be here when you get back and we can hang out some more.”

“is that too much to ask?”

“course not, babe.”

“thank you. i just love the idea of coming home to you. keeps me going. and i hate coming back here after a long day away and being all alone.”

you giggle and poke him with your foot, “god, you’re so obsessed with me.”

“i know, baby, im sorry,” he pushes off your legs and sets your plate to the side, not caring that you hadn’t finished yet. he crawls forward to lay between your legs and rest his head on your sternum.

“don’t be.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

taglist: @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @indierockgirrl @milkluvr8 @americanangel @butyou-callmewhenyourebored

[tisaolin]

The boy from Fengjian and the girl from Edenia

Not proofread 😔 but I had to write this for @majestickitty-si

You were happy for Raiden, he was earthrealms champion! He worked so hard to get to this point, so when you arrived in outworld, you were both thrilled and nervous. Nervous because this was all new for you, thrilled because you couldn’t wait to see Raiden in action.

You watched him win against his opponents Li Mei and Reiko. Beyond proud of him, you jumped up and down, laughing and spewing praises. You grabbed his hand and followed behind the royal family.

You sat next to him at the banquet, none of you spoke to eachother, weird. He spent most of the time conversing with the beauteous princess Kitana. She made you feel self conscious. She had it all, she was wise beyond human comprehension, fit and curved in the right places, she carried herself like the woman men desire, she had the purest heart, not to mention her enchanting beauty.

You excused yourself from the table, looking at the queue of flowers. You reach out to touch one but a voice behind you stopped you, that bewitching voice, it belonged to none other than Kitana. “Be careful, some of these flowers are poisonous” she picked one out and handed to you, “this ones fine, it matches you too” she smiled at you, that damn smile, she placed the flower in your hair and gazed at you. “Pretty” she grabbed your hand and walked you back to the table.

Gosh were you ready to leave outworld. You couldn’t stand seeing Raiden trip over his feet for Kitana. When he blushed, it was to Kitana, not you, When he smiled, it was for Kitana, not you. Everything revolved around her and you hated it. However, things were different on her end. When she awakes from her slumper, you are on her mind, when she waves towards Raiden, its actually towards you, when she sees a happy couple, she imagines you and her in that scenario.

Oh God did your heart hurt, Raiden asked Kitana to join him at Madam Bo’s! A date? A DATE! You pretended to be happy for him, he’s going out with the girl of his dreams! But on the low, you were broken, infront of him, you were your usual self, the happy go lucky version! But once those doors closed and you were alone, you cried. Why couldn’t it be you? You didn’t blame them, Raiden’s a humble, respectable young man and Kitana, a beautiful, intelligent young lady, who wouldn’t want to date them?

Raiden would come home to tell you everything and gush over Kitana, he even invited her to watch him train. She accepted, not because she wanted to watch him, but because she wanted to see you.

She sat beside you, hand resting on her chin while Raiden fought. She looked over at you. Confused, you questioned her, “Is there something on my face?” “Only beauty” huh? The Princess Kitana called YOU beautiful? Baffled is not even the word to describe how you feel right now.

Your heart is shattered completely right now. You walked in on Raiden confessing to Kitana. You wanted to run away but you couldn’t move, you needed to know her answer. It was surprising, her response was not what you expected. The words that came out of her mouth was enough to cause yours and Raidens jaw to drop, “Im sorry Raiden but no, I yearn for someone else” she looked at you and walked over to you, turning back to Raiden. “This is who my heart belongs too” You looked over at Raiden, he looked over at you.

[fleapit]

“No one is saying gender is a choice”

https://www.tumblr.com/genderkoolaid/752910129568055297/we-should-start-having-the-gender-talk-with-our

They quite literally are. Though. As well as identities, treating as them as if they’re just toppings you pick and choose rather than descriptors that have minimal criteria. Calling yourself ftm because you “like the label” and being ftm bc you have sex dysphoria and wish to/try to/are transitioning to a more male body are two incredibly different things, you don’t “choose your gender” you simply are a gender, and the “progressive trans people” (ie people co-opting this for whatever reason, to feel special mainly) pushing this idea are fucking over actual trans people to a fucking giant degree.

dude im going to be so honest with you, youve been in and out of my inbox for three days and it's kind of weird that you keep refreshing my blog to send me asks about this still. that is NOT what the post you linked is talking about and you need to work on your reading comprehension. that post is talking about how we should make it EASIER FOR KIDS TO COME OUT AS TRANS because gender identity is fluid and is something that they can change, which a transphobic society tells them is impossible. fuck, dude.

literally nobody is saying that being trans is a choice. but fucking honestly man, even if it was, why do you care? it doesnt affect you. i mean this in the nicest way possible but if someone does/doesnt experience dysphoria, how they identify, what their personal feelings are on THEIR presentation and their gender? that's just none of your business! and you don't get to go around demanding to know every little bit of someones traumatic experience- or lack there of- to decide if they're 'trans enough' or not.

nobody is pretending to be trans to feel special dude. thats right wing propaganda bullshit that you've fallen for. you just dont know their life and you are not the fucking authority on it. your experience will never ever be 1:1 with someone else and you can't decide that yours is the superior one to have. you don't get to decide that someone isn't trans just because their identity doesn't make sense to you. fucking grow up.

someone else's joy is not obliterating yours. it's not a random trans person on the internet's fault that you have dysphoria. stop blaming other people for your problems when they're struggling just as much as you. you aren't entitled to the details. move on with your life and MAKE YOURSELF HAPPY instead of trying to make OTHERS just as miserable as you are, because no matter how much complaining you do, someone isn't going to just STOP being multigender or STOP being a trans man and a woman or STOP being nonbinary just because YOU DECIDED it wasn't real and they were 'faking for attention'

honestly. we're all just trying to pay our fucking bills. it doesn't fucking matter to the people trying to murder us if you're a binary trans man good perfect ideal tranny who passes 100% or a multigender fagdyke they/its 'pick-me attention seeker' - THERE ARE NO GOOD QUEERS IN THEIR EYES, AND THEY WANT US DEAD. i think that takes priority.

just mind your fucking business and you'll find yourself a lot fucking happier. good lord.

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

Ok, let´s see: the incident who happened when Paul was with a girl and John destroyed her dress, who is very confucing; some songs of Paul (well lots of songs) who can be related about this (from the obvious Here Today to The Lovers who Never Were) the interminable descriptions of the beautiful hands of one, the handsome presence of the other, etc...the "if you were a girl" moment ( who i can´t remember when, but was one of my first pieces of suspiction XD) all the pinning (from both of them, but Paul even more...he still dreams with him sometimes)...the weird "fanfiction" where appear amie d´mitril and Paris...

...someone said me in Discord "There are some men who are boyfriends and don't realize it until they break up" after showing an iceberg with some Mclennon theories. Someone who no was even into it.

Im kinda agnostic about all this, but im really amazed about all the theories who exist about this, who the doubts and suspictions are really understable. Is a lot on info!

Are you asking me to rate this for the ask game, because most of these are verifiable things, the question is just what they mean/what led to them, right?

I can give you a personal take on all of them though.

John cutting up the girl Paul was having sex with's clothes: I 100% find this eyebrow-raising and quite possibly an act of jealousy. But I also can't discount that John was likely off his face and maybe his reason for doing that didn't really make sense either. (e.g. maybe he wanted to use the bedroom and thought up a way to get rid of the girl as fast as possible? I don't know, I just don't think there's enough information to be sure of his motivations)

Songs: I generally find it kind of exhausting to argue about song meanings and what they reveal about John and Paul's relationship without anything else to go on. I feel like songs don't have to be about them for them to have had Feelings™ for each other and also songs could be about them and be less literal than some people think. There can be emotions and themes inspired by the other that find their way into a song, without the song literally describing what happened. What I mean by this is I don't think it's at all impossible However Absurd (of which I've read the lyrics, to be clear) is in some sense about John but I wouldn't from that conclude that John and Paul literally made love. And if I'm not drawing these conclusions, it's less important to me whether However Absurd is about John or not, in that sense.

Beautiful hands: I do want to slightly push back against describing Paul's geberal speech pattern with words like "interminable". Tumblr deliberately picks out the most ~mclennon-y~ things from his interviews and shares these quotes over and over. (also thinking of last year when people were claiming most of the Eyes of the Storm book was John, when really those were just the pictures people shared around the most) That's not to say he doesn't bring up John a lot (lol) but I think he probably mentions John's hands specifically less often than some think. The thing is, the main quote people use regarding this, is the one where Paul directly compares John's hands to his son's. Unless you wanna argue Paul is into James, you have to conclude Paul finds hands aesthetically pleasing and interesting without necessarily being attracted to them. And showing John chords and playing guitar "mirrored" actually makes a lot of sense as something that would make Paul notice John's hands.

Handsome presence of the other: your mileage may vary here and it depends on the specific quote. Some I agree, and some are imo them both just being frank about the fact that physical attraction matters to people, even when you aren't personally physically attracted to them.

"If I had been a woman...": single best argument for reciprocated McLennon IMO. I also think it's very possible that Paul is observing the fact that romantic relationships are hierarchically placed above friendships and "the bro code" prevented Paul from doing anything about John's privileging of Yoko over him. But it could definitely Also be Paul saying "I would like to have gotten together with him".

Pining: Honestly, I think they both had a lot of reason to feel Weird about each other in the seventies. There was a lot of bad blood but also a lot bonding them in an almost cosmic way: the shared trauma of losing a mother AND of fame, the weirdness of being both pitted against each other and sold to the public as a package deal... I think they were ripe for the conflicted pining picking. Regarding Paul's behaviour NOW.... I don't know, I don't think it's weird at all that he still sometimes dreams about John. I think he talks about John in part because that's what people want to hear (and tumblr pretends to be surprised every time when they're part of the target audience lol) and also I think.... people sometimes sort of gloss over the fact that Paul literally lost John in a highly traumatic way? Maybe that's gonna make him A Little Weird. (most of this is neither here nor there, regarding their romantic feelings for each other by the way)

Amie in Paris:

I haven't read the story in full but I feel similarly here to how I feel about the songs I think. There might be an argument that John is less prone to fictionalizing than Paul (though... I don't think that applies to his prose, even if autobiographical elements can be found in it) but he's also joking half the time. It doesn't to me feel like an especially fruitful avenue to conclude things about John's life.

All in all, I know what you mean. I do think there's A Lot going on between them, however you parse it.

[hetaero]

what I mean by "no interpersonal stuff" is please don't involve me in any fantasy of yours, and especially don't try to tell me about it/initiate it with me. I'm not trying to be rude but it just straight up makes me uncomfortable 😭

there's many reasons why I have a problem with it and since some of you need it spelled out for you, here's an explanation that I don't owe, but am generous enough to bestow:

1. I don't know you. so that's weird. and you don't really know me. And I'd like to keep it that way. Just because I express what I like online doesn't mean you know who I am as a person and it's definitely not an invitation to try anything with me. The online world makes people feel like they know people and can treat them differently because it's "just on the internet" but. You wouldn't go up to a woman in public (even if you knew what she's into) and say that kind of explicit stuff out of nowhere, so please don't think it's okay to say that stuff to me.

2. It's violating to have someone refer to you like that without your consent? again, me objectively explaining what I like ≠ me wanting to do it with any of you. me explaining what I like doesn't mean I'd be into it in every or any context that you assume I would be. Me explaining what I like isn't an invitation to perceive or interact with me sexually. this blog is for me, not for anyone else, and I see it as an objective log and release of my thoughts so I don't go crazy, not really a horny outlet/hookup site

3. It's objectifying and misogynistic to assume I'd be into whatever you're saying to me, regardless of the subject matter (even if it's stuff I've said I'm into... I'm not into *you*). coming at me with random stuff like I'm a robot for you to get off to is not only a rude thing to do but it's also a serious ick/indicator that you don't actually respect dommes, let alone women and their individuality

4. It puts a lot of pressure on the domme to reply to something like that. even if I were not opposed to the subject matter... it places a heavy expectation that the domme must "fulfill" your fantasy by replying "the right way". Im not an AI. I'm not comfortable being a dom like that to random anonymous people online— that would feel degrading and demanding. I'm not looking to do that and even if you don't "expect" a sexy reply it still makes me think "well, what am I supposed to say to that?"

5. Even if you think it's harmless— It twists a woman's view of herself to constantly be sexualized and perceived through the lens of the male gaze. I am not this ... ultra femme-fatale mommy-dommy, I'm a human being. I'm not the made up figure in your fantasy. constantly seeing how other people objectify you, and how they only cherry pick what they see to fit their desires, warps your view of yourself and can affect your self esteem.

6. I simply don't want to. I'm sure some of you are nice and understanding and would actually want to know me and whatnot, but I am simply not interested. and when a domme expresses that, it should be enough for you to not push it. That's all it takes. I'm being generous enough to spell out for you other reasons why myself and potentially other dommes are uncomfortable with this sort of thing— but this isn't *necessary* or *required* for you to just.... not do it if someone has indicated they're not interested

Now, it's okay to talk to me as an equal and to say what you like and ask what I like and exchange intellectual ideas or thoughts about kink. treat me with respect and without involving the idea of "you and I", and it's fine. But don't push it. Thanks.

[sillybloodyr4t]

hi yes hello I am back from the pits of hell

gonna yap a bit since I feel like yall might like to know where I've been

short explanation: at my aunts house and she wouldn't let me get on my laptop bc I was up at 2am on it and also I fucking hate it here

So erm. My aunt got upset with me bc I was up at 2am on my laptop. It was understandable I guess, but everyone usually goes to bed at midnight like what-

The next morning she told me to get off it, but then said "You know what? Let me see something real quick 😊😊😊" ...what kind of teenager who spends a shit ton of time on devices wouldn't be freaked out by that?? So I was like Ok... what do you want to see...

This BITCH. OH MY GOD. She kept gatekeeping what she was going to do, so OF FUCKING COURSE I was scared. I kept asking what she wanted to do with my laptop bc I kind of have trust issues with my devices (I dont trust people with my devices bc there is a high chance theyre going to see something and think its weird or whatever), and when I said that I had trust issues with this kind of thing she got OFFENDED because I didn't trust my 'dear aunt' who totally wouldn't take a look at just my pfp and ask me a million god damn questions. If she found out about this place she'd be 'concernend' and whatnot (She has a 'problem' with the LGBTQ+ pretty much).

She then said that the way I was acting was like someone who has an ADDICTION. She then ranted and shit about how heartbroken she was that I didn't trust her enough to randomly take my laptop and do whatever the hell she wanted with it. She said she "was just going to look at the clock." Yk she sure as hell wasn't acting like that was what she was going to do.

Not only did she do that shit, she's been making me stress the fuck out about school next year.

Basically, she's been saying "if you dont change this you're going to get bullied". I already know that I'm an ugly and wretched little human. MUST you rub it in??

She has also been commenting that the shit I wear AND WORE FOR A GOOD PORTION OF LAST YEAR made me look like a lesbian. This is the same woman who said an outfit I picked out for a dance made me look like an 'adult lesbian'. She has also said that "Lesbians don't like it when you dress like them, They will make you cry" BITCHHHHH DO YOU EVEN KNOW ANY LESBIANS??? TF??

ANDDD She even said at one point that I need to 'tone down my stomach'. EXCUSE ME?? I have woken up several times feeling nauseous because I haven't been eating breakfast. I HARDLY EVEN EAT BETWEEN MEALS HERE. I am LITERALLY not eating as much as I usually do!! What the fuck do you mean??

This isn't even the first time she's basically body shamed me.

My cousin did say that my aunt believes that all girls in high school need to be skinny because my cousin didn't really eat much and had some health issues when she was in high school. (she's a college graduate btw).

Might add more to this if I can remember what else she did so far bc Im lowkey lazy and I dont want to yap anymore

[despite-everything]

i feel like every time i finally feel at peace about going no-contact with my mother something happens again that makes it sickening and one of the hardest things i've done.

i don't think i've ever burst into tears like this before. i dont even cry that often but im just really fucking going through it tonight. my mother texted me photos of the land she's bought down in central texas to build a ranch house on. when i was a kid, my grandparents had ranches. my grandmother was raised on one, too, and its gone back in our family. so i grew up on the ranch for holidays, long weekends, and portions of the summer. when my grandmother died and my parents divorced when i was a preteen, i went with my dad and my connection with that side of the family was almost severed because of my mothers tendency to spread lies and rumors which made me and my father unwelcome. a few years ago, the ranch became public property which is something im grateful for, but its weird to go back and visit, and i live nowhere near there anymore.

i basically went no-contact with my mother two years ago when she used my grandfather's death against me in a really terrible way. that was my grandfather who ranched. i long to be back in central texas. i feel so at home there. but im trans and unless i get one of a few very specific jobs (probably in austin) i wont go back and that breaks my fucking heart. my mother still texts me sometimes, and i havent blocked her because ive been informed of major family news from her even though i cant respond. she bought some land a few months ago and is building on the property and is going to move back to texas. she sent me update photos of the land tonight as well as a story about a beautiful coyote skeleton picked clean by buzzards on the property. i was the family member who collected bones from the ranch. i genuinely burst into tears when i saw the photos.

and then she followed up by talking about how she intends to build a small ranch house and a small guest house for friends and family to feel welcome and visit. and i just can't stop crying. that's all i've ever wanted. my grandparents had several ranches, but sold them. they asked every other person in the family if they'd be willing to take it over and manage it except for me - the one person who had always wanted to do that. but no one asked me and it was at a tumultuous time in my parents marriage so i didnt know until years later and too late. and theres almost no chance in hell i could ever afford property like that unless i inherit. and since all the ranches were sold and my grandparents are dead, i don't think that will ever happen to me. the ranch they lived on was The Ranch in the sense that it had a guest cabin and enough space for family to visit and at holidays there'd be 12-15 of us. i fucking miss that so much and theres no way to get it back and i know that but the fact that my mother is managing to re-create that same thing and i can't be part of it without hurting myself immensely is so sickening to me.

like i feel like im rambling and just sound stupid or ungrateful or something but its like ive been coming to terms with the fact that i'll never have an intact family again and im never going to have access to "home" unless i create one from scratch and i miss living in texas even with the bad parts and i miss the ranch and my family and this woman who has hurt me so fucking much suddenly gets to have this amazing life where she's becoming the new family matriarch and creating a place for everyone to gather and be happy hurts so so so much. im scared i will forgive her. ive cut her off then accepted her back before and it only made things worse. if i know whats good for me i'll stay away. but it's like the thing i've wanted more than anything else in the entire world is being dangled in front of me but if i accept it i might as well kill myself.

[saint-ambrosef]

I normally would just mind my business and not butt my nose in, but i feel like maybe you would be open to hearing this so im giving it a shot. As someone who really appreciated and respected you, the way you just kind of threw out "evangelicals are wild" and encouraged blaming a Christian denomination on a post that didn't even identify the person being weird as that denomination was kind of a shock to see from you.

I've really enjoyed your content (thats saying something, im actually an athiest, lol) and found you really reasonable and wise in a lot of ways. I liked learning about catholicism from someone who genuinely cares about and defends their faith. I've always grown up seeing catholics as the epitome of traditionalist hypocrites who pick on everyone else, but you and a few others really began changing that for me. Because of that, I'm a litle taken aback how easily you and a few other catholic blogs I've followed just slap the evangelical label on any sort of Christian thing you find cringe. It comes off mean spirited and disingenuous as an outsider with just enough understanding to know what you're doing isn't all that fair. Evangelicalism is pretty broad movement that contains an extremely broad spectrum of people and "personal" ideaologies. Given the breadth of actors in catholicism as well, it seems like if anyone would understand why branding people by their worst actors is unfair, it would be you guys. It's probably distressing to see people so quickly bandwagon on and identify catholicism as the pedophile priest people or what I said about my original thoughts about catholicism earlier. I know I hate it enough with cringe reddit atheist edgelords being the first thing anyone thinks about when they hear athiest. So, I find it a little disappointing to see so many of you guys do to others what I'm sure you hate having done to your own worldview because who doesn't hate being misrepresented?

It's one thing to have some friendly jabs back and forth and to be open and honest about agreeing on worldviews, but purposefully reducing the opposing argument seems so underhanded. And to be clear, I think that woman is a nutjob and I laughed at how ridiculous what she said was, I'm not saying you can't agree she's crazy or laugh at someone for being insane or just plane wrong. It's using the extreme to identify thr whole that's where I'm finding myself disappointed.

It's not your responsibility to cater to your audience, I'm well aware. And I'm trying not to come off as someone nitpicking you for blowing off steam or having a laugh. I just felt like maybe I could bring up to you what it looks like as someone outside of faith and how it really jars the opinion I was forming on catholicism to see that. I'm not scandalized or unfollowing or anything, I just figure maybe it's worth saying that this wasn't a moment where I felt like catholicism was more then it's stereotype, and I'd rather you be aware and maybe give you a chance to respond before I let it become foundational.

Thank you for your time, and sorry for your long post.

I understand what you're saying and appreciate the respectful rebuke, but I can't say I agree with your conclusion.

When someone calls out a specific bad actor as an example of Catholicism, the vast majority of the time they are not actually modeling Catholic beliefs. They're straight up expressing heresy that is objectively contrary to an approved theological belief of a formally organized religion. So propping it up as an example of legitimate Catholic belief is factually incorrect and invalid.

As you say with Evangelicalism, it's a "pretty broad movement that contains an extremely broad spectrum of people and 'personal' ideologies". There isn't a set of definable beliefs. That's the exact problem - and the criticism implied in my original comment. Because of Evangelicalism's belief in personal interpretation without a central organized authority, any and all personal ideology is theoretically acceptable. Wack opinions like that lady are a direct result of mainstream Evangelicalism. Her beliefs are technically as valid as anyone else's under Evangelical understanding, even if 90% of other Evangelicals think her incorrect. She does validly represent Evangelical beliefs whether they like it or not.

Again, I appreciate the respectful rebuke, but I honestly think you are over-analyzing a tongue-in-cheek tag comment. There is no "reducing the opposing argument" (?what argument?). I certainly don't think she represents all or most Evangelical Christians. I think she's the unfortunate but inevitable result of the shaky theological reasoning that undercuts the Evangelical movement. This is not me "slapping the Evangelical label on any sort of Christian thing [I] find cringe", it's a legitimate criticism.

I guess I could have initially explained all that more carefully, but I confess I did not expect someone would draw so many conclusions regarding my intentions and meaning from such a simple three word comment.

[thikutube]

log — [12]

js yapping, really

This is either gon be really long or really short!!

First of all!!

NEW WIP PICTURE!! — what r they listening to you ask?

...

This.

Yes this was unnecessary. Anyway, here's explanation why I like those songs because I wanna yab.

— My kind of Woman ～ is there any person who actually dislikes this song atp? — Sweater Weather - Instrumental ～ no the instrumental is so much better, change my mind (you can't) — this feeling ～ hella relaxing wdym — Cry ～ so you're telling me you haven't listened to this once? Liar. (/nm) — Goth ～ the gacha edits... — Main Title ～ GAME OF THRONES. GAME OF THRONES. GAME OF THRONES — yes to heaven ～ "I've got my eye on you. I've got my eye on you. Say yes to heaven.. say yes to me..?" I love this bit and it reminds me of something I can't quite put my finger on — Where's my love ～ often use this when writing angst:P listened to this song on a daily basis when I broke up with my first love — Meet you at the Graveyard ～ "You lost your battle, life was hell. But I was always beside.. how can't you tell?.." ... — Need 2 ～ idk this just reminds me it's okay to leave toxic people I guess (even tho I can't lul) — Killswitch Lullaby ～ just relaxes me, no other reason. — Answering machine ～ js does something to me that.. idk. It's not relaxing but it's.. comforting — Mr. Rager ～ "You never see them too long on the ground – You wanna be one of them? Yeah. You wanna be one of them? Yeah." & "Hey, Mr. Rager! Mr. Rager? Tell me where you're going! Tell us where you're headed! I'm off on the adventure. Mr. Rager! Tell me some of your stories, tell us of your travels!!" This doesn't need a explanation, does it? — milk cassette ～ comfort song — I'm a Mess ～ weird but...:P lol this is literally a comfort song that makes me hate myself 😭 I still love it, soooo 👉👈 — Angels ～ "Oh God I'm going insane! Chasing after you- please don't leave me..!!" Toxic relationship vibes. — Digital hallucination ～ I may be weird but anyone else loving this song with their life? — Doktorspiele ～ Yes I know the meaning of this song, so what? — Stress Relief ～ Shush, but this reminds me of Star, in a good way — And I'd go a thousand miles ～ just because some friend told me this once:] — Superhelden ～ It's a German song. My dad enjoys German music. I guess. That's.. I... Uh...:3 — Nakakapagpabagabag ～ Star loves vocaloid, I gotta pick up smth from talking to them everyday — THE MEAT GRINDER ～ The animation memes. I still loves this so much — Action Winter Journey ～ that one weird FNaF phase — 4ÆM ～ songs with this vibe are amazing. — Dying ～ Something stays from every phase I had. Gacha. I'm still in that. — Chemical Burn ～ Ngl I got this recommended in my priv playlist and now I'm just vibing with it — 888 ～ "HAHAHAHHA XD boing!! ^.^" — Antarctica ～ "Get the f-ck away from me! I hate all of you faithfully!! This world was never made for me." no explanation needed — Friends ～ nostalgic. Actually, the first actual gacha vent I made was to this "what the hell are we?" — Halls Of Illusions ～ AND YOUR DEATH COMES WICKED, PAINFUL AND SLOW- Literally the best song for one of my OCs^^ — Closer ～ now come on. — Судно (Борис Рижий) ～ worst part about this is, that's a comfort song of mine..:3 — ラビットホール ～ unsure why I even like this ngl — On My Way ～ I sung this with my first ever partner alot:( — im so delusional ～ yes. — knife play ～ >////< — LET THE WORLD BURN - Sped up ～ "I shouldn't have fallen in love, look what it made me become" I relate — Orquestra Maldita ～ I just like:> — Hey Baby ～ HEY BABY GIRL WHAT YOU DOING TONIGHT?! I WANNA SEE WHAT YOU GOT IN STORE!! YOU'RE GIVIN IT YOUR ALL WHEN YOU'RE DANCIN ON ME!! I WANNA SEE IF YOU CAN GIMME SO MORE!! YOU CAN BE MY GIRL I CAN BE YOUR MANNN- okay. Enough. — Back in school ～ I love Mother Mother. This song especially is great. Should be more known ngl — bad idea! ～ it was a bad idea>p<

Yeah I hope you enjoyed reading all that guys:3

Now!!

WOULD ANY IF Y'ALL BE INTERESTED IF I'D PUBLISH MY OTHER WRITING... NOT JUST BOT OPENINGS BUT ALSO OTHER SHI I WRITE??!!😭😭

[skrunksthatwunk]

ok now that the dust has settled a bit im actually gonna talk about my thoughts on the rgg summit y8 cutscene. you know the one

ok im talking about the proposals because although i didn't make it clear at the time i uh. i don't like it lmao (<- oversimplifying). let me explain (in 9 points + a tl;dr)

ichiban does strike me as the type to jump the gun and propose early, especially after like 18 years in prison. granted, i never did the dating stuff in y7, but i think it's in line with his character (i like it, makes sense)

him asking kiryu for advice is also fine, seeing as he's So Fucking Frazzled By Getting Turned Down im convinced he would ask anyone (i like it, makes sense)

regardless of my own views on ichiban's love life i. i guess i see that they could've been setting him and saeko up? like saeko's cattiness with seong-hui (who, if you forgot, flirted pretty hard with ichi when they first met) could be viewed as jealousy over ichiban...? i guess? and maybe that time she compliments his hair and he's like "well maybe I'll keep it :)"...? (i don't like it, but makes sense in hindsight as something they may have been trying to establish)

in regards to my thoughts on ichiban's love life: girl they have so little romantic chemistry im not even joking. not more so than like, him and any given member of the ichigang (which isn't nothing (<- ichigang polycule enjoyer) but you really just picked Nearest Girl huh), and arguably less imo. i like them!! i don't even hate them dating per se, but i don't love it being canon. like exploring it conceptually and making fan content etc is cool (go crazy!!), but i don't think they have enough standing in canon as-is to be satisfying as a couple, yeah? it doesn't feel like they were going for that in their y7 dynamic, and i actually found the platonic vibes of their bond kinda refreshing and im sad to see that replaced with a simple (probably offscreen) "okay they're together now" like it was inevitable, or the implication that the only reason their friendship was there was to set up a romance later, and they were just saving it for the next game. (i don't really like it, doesn't make sense)

it feels like they were anxious about where saeko falls in the "romance or relative" dichotomy of the series' female characters (see yumi, yuko, yasuko, hana, mirei (<- less direct, but majima's ex/pretty explicit mother figure to haruka), sayama, makoto, eri (y7, not the morning glory kid), seong-hui, that woman from y5, haruka, most of the cabaret girls as manager and customer, maaaany substory women, that patriarch's daughter in y3, reina, yayoi, the morning glory girls, etc etc). like she HAD to end up with someone in the cast because what else would she do, right? in isolation it's not an awful choice, but within the context of the rest of the series, it's frustrating because she was one of the only exceptions besides like. miss tatsu probably. (i don't like it, makes sense that it would happen in this series)

even if you want/are open to saeko and ichiban being together, shouldn't that be given more time and development? it feels rushed to me to go from hinting at romance (assuming that's what it was in y7) to proposing is like. kind of a disservice to those characters and that dynamic imo (i don't like it, doesn't make sense)

NOT TO MENTION KIRYU'S PROPOSALS?? like. to yumi? to sayama? it feels like that'd be weird to retcon in since we saw their relationships on screen. and if kiryu had an (or multiple?? as arguably implied in the scene???) offscreen relationship so serious he PROPOSED i think that'd also be weird and annoying to not see if you were a fan of that idea. shit man, if kiryu's proposing to someone i wanna meet her!! (because it's going to be straight. i know you know we know. pain) and maybe she'll even get like. depth and agency outside of being a love interest. if we're very lucky. (i don't really like it, doesn't make sense)

kiryu suddenly having ~plenty of experience~ with women isn't homophobic (or aphobic) per se, but. i mean. look there's a lot of good ways to read the way kiryu engages with sex and romance (including ones where he likes women and/or doesn't like men, in case you want to argue with me about that) but what we know for sure is that this series seems to a) be unable to let him hold on to a definite love interest between games b) want him to be a forever-bachelor, either because "i think he would be" or "he's mourning yumi sayama doesn't count" or "he's waiting for the right person" or "he can't endanger someone like that" etc, and/or c) does not want to/cannot validate queer interpretations of him (which the two previous points as well as other context may imply). y'know how around y4 they stopped letting majima and kiryu interact but still hinged big shit on their fated bond or whatever? it's like that to me. sometimes they feel the need to remind us all that they're actually super heterosexual guys. this could be that. if it walks like damage control and quacks like damage control it might very well be damage control. even in straight readings of him it's jarring and out of nowhere and lacks real time, development, and so on in ways that are both unsatisfying and contributing to the problems with women in the series, even more so than an ichi/saeko relationship (i don't like it, doesn't make sense)

during the summit they were careful to be like "well, we don't know what kind of proposal it is exactly ;)" so lemme say this: if it's not actually marriage proposals they're talking about, im not gonna be happy either. clickbait ass. (actually it would be a little funny if they were straightbaiting but im still gonna work under the assumption that it's not because like. did they word the cutscene like that just to show it at the summit like this? freak behavior) (idk how i feel about it, idk if it makes sense, someone should get smacked for this choice but there's a 50/50 chance i would do this in their shoes)

tl;dr i don't hate these ideas in isolation and if you're excited for them then i wish you the best. i hope for all of us that it's actually handled well. to be completely honest, im still interested in what leads them both to this point, and the relationships they may reveal, what they'll try to say with them, what they say about ichi and kiryu, etc. i will play along with ichi and saeko if they can do something cool with it, because i tend to be very flexible about that kinda thing. im not mad about it and i don't hate it exactly, but my impressions of it for the most part are "this seems sudden and out of character for everyone involved in troubling ways that are part of larger annoying/problematic patterns in the series".

[poppy-metal]

"The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.”

A/N: im placing this before the sexual side of their relationship begins. A prelude of sorts, if you will.

Cw: voyeurism, smut, dekus secretly dirty mouth.

All things considered izuku’s room was...not as gross as you expected a staple college aged guys dorm room to be. It was cluttered but not disgusting, posters of comics and figurines and manga and some clothes strewn about, everything kind of frenzied and haphazard. It was so incredibly deku, a secret smile pulled at your lips, even though your reasons for being here were less than innocent

He’s wearing fucking pink. Because of course he is, of course izuku is humble and comfortable in his masculinity enough to pull off a bright pink t-shirt. It hugs his chest too, and you have to wonder if literally any of his clothes fit him and the tits he decided to grow in college. His image is so utterly imposing, his smile so bright, and laugh so airy, it sends butterflies flipping through your stomach at just the sight of him and that makes you want to vomit. Your lips curl in a sneer and you’re walking towards him and the group of friends he’s talking to as if on reflex. 

Stupid, lovely deku. You knock your shoulder into his as you pass, hard enough that his books clatter and fall to the floor, scattering. And then those green eyes are on you, giving you his attention and your body feels alive, your blood cells buzzing under your skin even as he frowns. The dimples on his freckled face fall as he takes you in. Yes, you think, look at me, see me, want me. 

Out loud you say. “Watch where you’re going, stupid deku” and you’re looking at him like he’s the dirt under your shoe. He’s not. He’s the center of your universe. Your world tilts around his axis. “Pink isn’t your fucking color by the way”. it is. 

Izuku huffs. He’s past the point where he used to turn as red as a tomato and duck his head whenever you stood in front of him, but he’s still deku at the end of the day. An easy target. “If looking at me bothers you so much you could just ignore me.” He crouches down to pick up his things. His words make you itch, if you could ignore him, you wouldn’t fucking be here. Its because he exists too much, that you want to push him down so much. 

You step your manicured foot onto his notebook right as he’s about to grab it. He tugs at it, you dont budge, and he looks up at you, exasperated. “Can i have my notebook, please?” 

Why is he so fucking pretty? God, you want to throw up. You dig your heel in further, covering the flutter you feel in your chest with a practiced sneer. “I like the way you say please, deku.” You lean down a little, “Say ‘your highness’ and i’ll move” 

It’s a thrill, seeing the way his jaw sets, his brow furrows, his eyes go annoyed. Sweet, sweet, friendly izuku. You’re the only one he looks at like this, like he wants to throttle you. But he won’t. You see his adams apple bob, his cheeks dust pink, even as he glares. “No” 

You pause. It’s not the first time he’s gotten snippy with you, but the conviction behind it is new. You feel something in your stomach give a jump, your blood thrumming in your ears. You jerk your foot towards you, sliding his notebook out from his hands and standing completely on top of it with both your feet now. Your sticky lips, glossy and plump, spread into a mocking grin, “No? Do i need to slam you into some lockers and take you lunch money?” You feel a thousand feet tall, towering above him still kneeling, you on the high ground, looking down at him below you, where he can’t reach you. Can’t ever see the truth. “C’mon pansy, you’re already on your knees anyway” 

But he isn’t anymore. He jerks to a stand, and now he’s taller than you, but you puff your chest out, not letting that affect you. It always affects you. Not that he knows or ever notices. Your eyes are widening when he steps forward so you’re practically nose to nose and chest to chest. “I don’t have time for you” he snaps, irritated. And then he’s stepping away as suddenly as he stepped up, the rest of his things gathered in his arms, he shakes his head at you, a tendril of that mossy mousey hair falling into his eyes. “I gotta get to class” 

And then he’s gone, brushing by you, disengaging. You stand there, your breath stuck in your chest, not moving. ‘I dont have time for you’ over and over again rings through your head like a mantra. You step off his notebook robotically and kick it across the floor. It bangs against a wall and you feel your fists clench, nail beds digging into your palms harshly. ‘I dont have time for you’ 

You turn on your heel, away from the direction of your class, fury blinding you. Anger in place of humiliation, vindication in place of being humbled. You don’t know what crawled up his ass and made him think he was above you all the sudden, but you weren’t having it, not the fuck at all. 

And that’s how you found yourself snooping through izukus dorm, with the intention of finding some kind of dirt, or something to hold over his stupid head. He didn’t have time for you? How dare he act like he was better than you, like he had things more important to do than to indulge you. You were still so mad you wanted to throw a tantrum, kick and scream and claw his eyes out. Straddle his stupid broad waist and shake him until all he saw was you, you, you. 

You really hated him. Hated that because of him you were basically a bully because any attention from him was attention you thrived and lived under. Maybe if you weren’t so prideful, so disgusted by the weakness of your own gooey emotions for him, you would have tried to be the center of his attention in a nicer way, but as it was you were in too deep. This was the sick game you played, and losing wasn’t an option. 

You hated how much that made you similar to bakugou in a way. You didn’t like that guy, and even weirdly so, you wanted to gouge his fucking eyes out for the way he treated and talked to izuku. Was it jealousy or possesivness that drove you to want to be the only one who could rile izuku? You wondered, sometimes, if bakugou felt the same way about you. 

It was the loss of control, for you. Better yet, it was the way you liked the loss of that control. You had always prided yourself on being strong willed and a perfectionist. But whenever your eyes so much as grazed izukus, all your emotions went rattling around your stomach in sick twisted ways, giving you goosebumps, making you...nervous. It was a crush that had turned into an obsession, wasn’t it? And you wanted to make izuku suffer not only for invoking those messy feelings, but for not seeming to return them as well. If he couldn’t love you or want you romantically or sexually, you’d force yourself onto his radar and into his head until thinking about anyone else was impossible. Until you squirmed under his skin as much as he squirmed under yours. 

Acting like you didnt exist was unacceptable. Obviously you’d slacked off on your taunts and actions, if he could just brush past you so easily, not taking your bait. You needed to even the playing field again, and by even you meant you needed to be towering above him again. 

Towering over him so you dont have the time to think about how much you want to be under him, your mind whispers at you as you pick through his room, trying to find anything incripting. Someone like izuku would probably have something utterly embarrassing like a diary or some weird porn magazines, shameless, helpless guy that he was. 

You huff as you open his drawer next to his bedside, nearly slamming it back shut in shock at what you see there. 

You’re not stupid. You’re a healthy, young woman with an active sexual imagination and access to the world wide web, to porn. 

Izuku has a fleshlight in his drawer. Izuku has a sexytoy. Izuku. And its green. 

Izuku has a sex toy that he probably uses. That he probably sticks his cock into and moves- 

An absurd laugh barks out of you, shocked and helpless. Because while in your head you knew izuku had to be some kind pervert, what other explanation was there for the way he blushed and darted his gaze around like a ping pong ball whenever you leaned forward and get caught a glimpse under your blouse, this is...unexpected. Imagining izuku in explicit scenarios, doing lewd things, it was something you didn’t allow your mind to wonder to often over. You didn’t like the way you got all squirmy and meek whenever you thought too long about izuku without clothes. 

You feel kind of squirmy now, hot and uncomfortable as you shift around and try to gather your wits back about you. Revenge, that’s what you’re here for. 

With a shaky exhale you turn away from his dresser, your thoughts flitting around your head like annoying gnats. What, who, does he think about when he…? What does he look like? What does his...c- You shake your head, slap your cheeks, trying to center yourself from the images floating around, flustering you and distracting you. 

You’re in the middle of lifting the covers on his bed to peek under it, see if there’s anything there, when you hear the handle on his door jiggle. You freeze, every muscle in your body locked frozen like a deer in headlights as the knob twists, and then catches. Right. You’d picked the lock with one of your hair clips and then made sure to lock it again behind you just in case something like this happened. And by the, “Ugh” on the other side of the door, yep that’s definitely izuku. You’re shoved out of your shocked state, and bolting for his closet door as you hear the jingle of his keys twist in the lock, trying your best to close the door as quietly as possible behind you, it swishing shut barely a second before the door to his dorm opens and you hear him step in. 

Class must have let out early or something, you think huffily, gently rearranging yourself into a comfortable position on a pile of his clothes as he shuffles around his room. You hear the thumb of him dropping his books, the shuffle of his feet, the clutter of him taking off his shoes and the squeak of his mattress as he plops down on it. 

You tuck your knees to your chest and roll your eyes, picking at your leggings as you wonder how long you’ll have to hide before he goes to the bathroom or something so you can leave. It’s fucking stuffy in his closet already, the air hot. Your hand touches the soft fabric beneath you, realizing you’re sitting on one of his hoodies. Its too dark to see which one it is, but you imagine it as your favorite red one. Maybe you’d steal it as compensation for him making you sit and wait in his dumb closet while he probably stared at the ceiling with no thoughts in his dumb brain.

You hear him sigh, loud and dramatic, and then a muffled scream/groan into his pillow. Your lips twitch, he’s such a fucking drama queen. 

Your little smile drops off your face when you hear the sound of his drawer opening.  

Oh god. Oh no. 

Your face feels like there are embers burning under it as you hear the unmistakable sound of clothes being shucked, a zipper and and then flop, and then….a slick wet sound and a sigh of relief. 

Your eyes feel like they are bugging out of your head. Izuku is really about to fuck his fleshlight with you hiding in his closet with him none the wiser. You feel suddenly embarrassed and hot all over, hiding your face in your knees as you hear him let out a moan. A loud one. 

You’re on fire, every part of you. You don’t think you can take this, don’t think you can sit through this and listen to this, think you should just burst out of his closet and use your bravado to somehow flip the situation and make him feel humiliated for getting off in the privacy of his own room, like he’s in the wrong even though you had violated so many boundaries for even being here right now. 

You could do it too, you know. You’re good at twisting things, at powering through the complicated mess of flustered feelings izuku makes you feel and making it his fault, making him back down and cower. You could do it...you’re uncurling your legs and pushing your hands under you in the middle of getting up to do so when- 

“Fuck. ___” Your name. You freeze, for an unholy, goldy second you think you’ve been caught, that he has acquired x-ray vision and has spotted you but no. His voice isn’t surprised or upset its...breathless, airy. He moaned it. 

The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.

Heat immediately shoots between your legs, your core throbbing unbidden in reflex to the sound, helpless to stop it, to have any other reaction. Your ass plops right back down. You turn slightly towards the door, pressing your side against it, your ear smooshed against the cool wood as you listen, as if drawn under a spell. 

“You’re such…” You hear izuku pant, his voice deeper and more rough then you’ve ever heard it before. “A fucking brat” 

Wet between your legs, seeping through your panties at his words, seemingly ripped out of him. God, he sounds pissed, wrecked. He cursed. You’ve never heard izuku curse before, never, even when you’d pushed him too far. Something really was different about today. 

The slick sounds are more frequent now, steady and...and sounding like real sex you’d heard from porn before. Wet, sloppy, and slapping. Your knees knock together as you lean forward even more. There’s an invisible string pulling, tugging you forward, you want to see…

“Fucking slut” He grunts, and there’s a heavy slap, your breath catching in your fucking throat as you realize that...that must be the clap of his balls hitting the back of his fleshlight everytime he thrusts into it. “Always running your fucking mouth, looking down at me, so mean, you’re so fucking mean to me…uh..” 

The sounds of sex fill the room and you can’t take it anymore, you’re burning, burning, burning, fuck the consequnces. You hesitantly and slowly turn the handle of the closet door, letting it slide open just a crack, enough for you to peek through, to get a glimpse.

His lean muscular back is the first thing you see, he’s facing directly away from his closet, thank god but oh god, that means you see..so much. The flex of his shoulder blades under his tan skin, the smattering of freckles over his shoulder, the long slender slope of his spine as it curves down his broad back, the dimbles at the bottom of his spine, flexing as he fucks his toy. His ass, because of course izuku would have a perfect round bubble butt. There are freckles there too. 

Your eyes skate down, hungry to his large and heavy balls, low hanging and full, currently smacked right up against the base of the little pocket pussy he’s practically straddling on his bed. 

It hits you again than, that deku is imagining that toy is you, he’s imagining fucking you in this position on his bed right now, imagining its your cunt hes pounding into, and your face he’s spitting those filthy words at. 

Your hand is really moving without your permission when it slips under the band of your leggings into your panties, fingers immediately dipping between the slick folds of your pussy, silky and wet. 

“-Wet” Izuku grunts, as you dip a finger just barely inside. “Fuck, i knew you’d be so fucking soft and good inside. Such a bratty girl would have a sweet cunt attached to her, huh?” 

Fuck, where and when did izuku start speaking like this? His soft voice curling around such crude words is making you gush all over your fingers. You wish you could see the kind of face he was making when he said them. 

“Yeah, you like taking my cock don’t you, baby?” He croons and if you close your eyes you can almost imagine he’s speaking directly into your ear, behind you. His thrusts get heavier, rougher, he lifts his leg up on the bed and you see a flash of the little green toy being fucked on his cock, big and angry looking. He’s being so brutal, hammering the thing down on his dick as he hips rut to meet every downward tug. “Milk it. Milk my fucking cock you whore. Wanna- fuck, wanna hear you say my name when you cum, want you to know who’s pouding that little pussy. The loser you fucking hate, yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

Yes, you whimper in your head in answer to him, your fingers curling deep, deep, inside, fucking yourself on them in earnest. He’s so big and you only caught a glimpse, but it was enough. Enough to know he’d fucking cleave you apart if he tried to fit that monster between his legs inside your tight little pussy. But you want it, god you fucking want it. You wanna feel him splitting you open, making you cream around him, making you beg for it. Making you bleed. 

“One of these day” he says, his voice breathless but steady, even as it cracks. You know he’s close. “I’m gonna fucking snap. Im going to make you look me in the fucking eye and apologize for making me want you, and then im going to split that pussy open- fuck, im coming, fuck, fuck, fuck. Do you understand, b-bitch? Gonna fucking make you mine, yeah, take it, take your senpais cock you dirty fucking girl, ah!” 

He slumps forward, hips humping into the toy and balls spasming as he pumps it full of his cum, shuddering deeply with little aborted whimpers. “Good girl, good girl” he pants, trailing off, giving one last little jerk of his hips before stilling. 

You bite your lip so hard you draw blood to stop yourself from whimpering out loud. You pull your sticky fingers out of your cunt and shuffle back into the dark of the closet, curling in on yourself as izuku lays there, panting heavily for a few moments before moving. 

You stay stock still as you hear him get up and shuffle around, his footsteps padding into the bathroom where you hear the door click softly shut. You spring up to your feet and don’t care if you make noise as you dart out of his room and into the hallway, sprinting like a bat out of hell as you make you way to the girls dorms.

You’ll think about how to reevaluate and recoup later. Right now you just really need to get to your bed so you can rut pathetically onto your own fingers and imagine izukus fat dick breaking you open. Never in a million years did you think he had those kinds of feelings for you, and you know it changes the whole game, is a whole other level of playing field where you now know he wants you on a physical level. 

You feel powerless and lie you’re slipping again, don’t know how you’re going to point your finger at him and laugh when you know for every insult you throw his way, is another way hes fucking his toy at night, adding it as another thing to get you back for. If he ever snaps. 

If. you want it to be a when, so bad, not an if. 

You’ll make it a when. You’ll push him off the metaphorical cliff he’s teetering on to make it so. 

. 

[raineydays411]

My fathers daughter

prologue

Tony Stark x daughter! reader

Summary: By all definitions you were a daddy’s girl. It’s been you and him since your mom left you both. But what happens when your both forced to face your past?

a/n: y’all know i can’t resist a good crossover

If there had to be a face for daddys girl, you’d be the poster child. 

Ever since you came into Tony’s life, you and him have been attached by the hip.

You were with him through everything.

When he became Iron Man, when he joined the avengers, and even during civil war. Even though it hurt you to see your family be torn apart, you could never betray your father. Then again, you have to admit that you were happy that the avengers compromised and were able to get back together. Earning you a new family member in Bucky. You were happy. Happy with the life you have with your dad and avengers. 

Which is why your mother suddenly reappearing and demanding to be in your life kinda of peeved you off. 

Let’s start from the beginning. 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started off with a gala. 

Some bougie charity event that rich assholes attend to donate large sums of money, not out of kindness, but only to show just how rich they are. You hated these types of events.  You hated the fake smiles and false interest in your life. All they wanted was to get close to your dad. They even try to set you up with their snobby stuck up kids. You hated it. 

And here you were, trying to find a way to get out of this boring conversation with some snob from Beverly hills. You can see your dad laughing at you from across the room. 

“You know, you look a lot like Mrs. Wayne.” He suddenly says, looking at you.

“Who?” You ask, suddenly paying attention.

“Mrs. Wayne, you know, Bruce Wayne's wife.”

You know who Bruce Wayne was. Your dad absolutely detestes the man. He never really told you why. He just said to never trust a Wayne. You also know that he’s Batman and his army of children are/were Robin. It was pretty obvious and rather easy to figure out. Then again, you were able to hack into the Bat computers main systems. They really need to update their firewalls. 

“Um no I didn’t know that he had a wife to be honest.” You reply, not really interested.

“You can pass as her daughter you know? She is very beautiful. As are you.” He says in a flirty tone. 

You roll your eyes, seeing your father finishing up a conversation and make your move, but then you hear 

“Oh look, there's the Wayne family right there.” 

Causing the attention to turn to the main entrance. There you saw Bruce Wayne. Tall, handsome, and charismatic. He was smiling, waving at the host. Next to him, his oldest son Dick. Another very handsome man, Tall with blue eyes and raven hair. Sending charming smiles to the crowds of women. Then Tim Drake, too focused on his phone to pay attention to the crowds, and finally Damian Wayne. A small boy with a sharp scowl. To his left, you can barely make out the form of his wife and his daughter, Cassandra Cain. You can also see Stephanie Brown chatting excitedly to Mrs. Wayne, who you still couldn’t see.

“Jeez, they brought the whole cavalry.” You mutter, looking at the star struck boy you were talking to.

You roll your eyes. The way people worship this family is strange. They act as if they are royalty or gods. You look at your father, expecting him to be making a sarcastic face or something. But that’s not what you saw. No, you saw a look on his face that you haven’t seen on his face ever. That’s when you walked up to him.

“Daddy...are you okay?” You asked cautiously.  He turned to you, shocked.

“Y/n!” He practically shouts, “ I’m okay, are you okay? We can leave right now if you’re not okay?” 

You frown in confusion, “ Umm yeah, I’m fine...”

“Good, Good. We’re going to leave now, this gala kinda blows. DOn’t you think?”

You can see his eyes dart to the Waynes to you. He looks...panicked. It was weird to you. Usually he keeps his cool during events like these. 

“Um sure..I just need to go to the restroom first” You say, seeing him nod. You walk off, shaking off the concern you have for your father. As you push through the crowds, you can hear them whisper as you passed. Something about Mrs. Wayne. 

You shake your head, “Can’t they talk about anything else??” 

Then you finally find the bathroom. You walk in, expecting it to be empty, only to be faced with Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown. They were chatting near the sinks as you walking into the stall. After doing your business, you walked out to the sink, going to wash your hands, but you saw Stephanie freeze, then nudge Cassandra. They both stared at you as you washed your hands and went to dry them. You give them a side eye, wondering why they were staring at you so hard. 

“Um hi?” You say carefully, the jump not expecting you to speak.

“Oh! Hello Im Stephanie and this is Cass” Stephanie says with a smile. “ You’re Y/n Stark right?”

“Uh yeah...Its nice to meet you dudes” You say quickly, already ready to walk out the restroom. 

“I’m sorry for staring, it’s just that...you look a lot like her mother” She says gesturing to Cassandra. 

You chuckle, “ Uh yeah so I’ve heard...hey I gotta go...”

“Oh right! Sorry heh” Stephanie laughs nervously, “It was great to meet you”

“Yeah” You agree half heartedly, “ You too”

And with that you go to find your father. You pass by the Wayne sons, only to see them take a double take when you pass them. 

“God that family is weird.” You mumble seeing your father talking to Bruce and his wife. He looked distressed and angry. You speed up, wanting to make sure your father doesn’t punch Bruce Wayne the way he looks like he's going to.

“Hey dad...um I’m ready to go.” You says with your back turned on the Waynes.

“Y/n..” Your dad says panic exploding on his face, “ Y/n sweetheart um...”

“Yn?” You hear a woman whisper.  You turn to see Bruce Wayne and...your mother. 

You remember the day she left. It was a sunny day. The kind of days that usually are in good memories and have happy endings. She was supposed to take you to the park so you can meet your dad there. You hardly saw her over the years, just every three months when she would come to the then Stark Tower to visit. But that say...that day was different. She had gotten a call, from who you don’t know, nut it seemed important. Because she left at that very moment and never came back. She never reached out, never called, texted or anything. Just radio silence. Your dad was heart broken.  He had hoped that one day she would move in with you and him, and you could be a family. He loved her with his whole heart, but she just didn’t love you both enough to stay. He was a mess after she left, and you picked up the pieces.

You were nine.

If it wasn’t for Pepper stepping in after witnessing one of his breakdowns, you don’t know what would’ve happened.

You stare at the woman who left you, who broke your fathers heart. Who broke your heart.

“Ms. Wayne.” you say curtly, taking pleasure in the way her face fell, “ Mr. Wayne, it’s lovely to see you again. If you’ll excuse me and my father, it seems like he’s not feeling too well.”

You weren’t lying, Tony looked like he was about to puke. His face was pale and he was kinda sweaty. So you wrapped your arm around him and lead him to the entrance, starting to pull out your phone to call Happy.

“Y/n wait!” Your mother cried out, pulling her arm away from Bruce and placing a hand in your shoulder. You jerked your shoulder out of her grasp.

“ Y/n, I know you’re mad at me” she starts, cringing when she hears you scoff, “ But wait a second. Let me look at you...my petal you’re so big.”

You turn and glare at her, “ Don’t call me that.”

“Oh Y/n, please—“You cut her off again.

“Hey i’m just going along with what you want. This is what you wanted right? No contact with us?”

You can see a crowd start to form around you, and you see the scattered Wayne’s push through it. They look at each other in confusion trying to understand how you seem to know their mother.

“ Of course that’s not what I wanted, oh petal I meant to call I just...” She trailed off

“Couldn’t be bothered?” you say harshly, “ I couldn’t care less. Just leave us alone. That should be easy for you.”

You feel your dad tug on your hand, and you turn to him. Eyes softening when you see the expression on his face.

“ Happys here kiddo.” He says softly. You nod and start to walk away. And you hear your mother protest, but you cut her off with a venomous,

“It was nice seeing you again Mom.”

and then you were gone. This time, leaving your mother behind and her confused husband and children.

[weasleylangs]

dirty little secret / g.w

‘i go around a time or two, just to waste my time with you’ 

Summary: Being friends with benefits was a mutual decision, a way to relieve stress when needed after a stressful twelve months. It was decided it was just between them, not to be anybodies business but George and Y/N’s, but she doesn’t want to be his dirty little secret anymore. Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI !! no graphic depictions of sex but there’s one really fucking steamy kiss and sex & fwb situations/hookup culture is discussed heavily, sweet aftercare for both reader and George, jealousy & possession (nothing toxic), alcohol / drinking, food.  Word Count: 5.6k AUTHORS NOTE / aaaaa the first instalment for my pop punk series!!! this one is based off dirty little secret by the all american rejects! im going to kiss @weelittleweasley for helping me write the steamy kiss btw!!!!!

POP PUNK COLLECTION 

(all 18+) taglist / @spacexcowgirl @weelittleweasley​ @lumos-barnes​ @butterflybuchanan​ @levylovegood​ @omghufflepuff​ @mitsukui​ 

----------

Y/N hears George when he reenters her room, a glass of water in one of his hands, a washcloth in the other. Her legs still feel slightly numb from the pleasure she had just been on the receiving end of, a blissed-out expression on her face as she makes grabby hands towards the man in her doorway. 

George smiles dopily down at her, helping her sit up before handing her the glass of water. “How are you feeling?” he asks, checking in as he starts to help clean Y/N up. He quickly stops when she winces, scared he hurt her. “Fuck, sorry,” he whispers, pulling his hand away but when she laughs and grabs his hand, he relaxes.

“It’s fine,” she smiles, the look of euphoria still gracing her facial features. “Just a little sensitive,” she says honestly. George nods slightly, a proud smile on his lips as he goes back to cleaning her skin, taking extra care in areas where Y/N would be sensitive. 

He’s always like this after sex, making sure she’s okay. It’s a part of the reason why Y/N agreed on being friends with benefits with him in the first place, he’s the most trustworthy person she knows. 

It all started when they were twenty-one; the war had finished, their loved ones were safe and they so desperately needed to unwind in a very specific way after the stress of the previous twelve months. It was a mistake at first, two best friends drunkenly joking about sleeping together and the next thing they knew, they were rolling in the sheets together. Y/N was positive she ruined her longest friendship, but when George began his own personal ritual of aftercare, she knew she couldn’t let him go easily. 

This is why when the preposition of friends with benefits was put on the table by George, she immediately took it; six months later they’re still sleeping together, and even though her feelings for George are evergrowing, she’s happy with their current situation. 

“You sure you’re okay?” George presses when he’s noticed Y/N’s eyes glazed over. He’s worried he went a little harder than usual tonight. The stress of getting the joke shop back up and running has been getting to him and he needed a release of pressure in more ways than one.  

“Yes, I’m sure,” she says, taking George’s hand in her own before pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles that causes a soft red hue to develop across his freckled cheeks. That’s something else she’s learnt about George since she began sleeping with him; he needs aftercare for himself just as much herself, and he mostly needs it in some form of physical affection. “Just thinking, nothing bad. I promise.” 

George nods asking if Y/N’s good to be picked up. She giggles when she realises he’s taking her to the bathroom so she can pee. He sits her down on the toilet before turning around and gasping as he sees his reflection in the mirror. “Fuck woman,” he exclaims, before twisting his body so he can see the scratches that start at his shoulders and trail down his back. “Were you trying to rip me apart?” 

He hears a giggle come from behind him, quickly followed by a toilet flushing. He feels her frame push past him so she can wash her hands and when she reaches to grab some cream to put on George’s back she lets out her own gasp.

“George Fabian Weasley, what the fuck?” Her neck has a hickey, and not just a small one. She’s beginning to question whether George is part vampire when she looks up at him and he’s smirking at her, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s Spring! I have lunch with Angie tomorrow! I can’t cover these!”

George almost feels bad, but his admiration for his work on her neck is slightly winning over his guilt. “I’m sorry, darling,” it’s genuine and they both know it when Y/N’s scowl falters slightly, threatening to smile.

“No, you’re not,” she says, grabbing the cream for his back and pushing him back into her bedroom. Before she begins to help George, she stands in front of her drawers, grabbing clothes to put on now she’s come out of her post-sex haze. She hears the redhead behind her chuckle when he recognises the sweater she puts on as his own as he puts his own boxers back on. “But I guess it’s payback. Your back’s going to hurt tomorrow and Fred’s going to wonder why.”

None of their friends are aware of... their arrangement. They agreed, knowing they would make it weird. After all, Fred’s engaged to his long term girlfriend from their Hogwarts years and their other friends have all started putting themselves out there, so it’s safe to say, they’re the last two to start to settle down. 

But they like their current relationship; it’s carefree, it’s simple, it’s not complicated like a proper relationship and if they’re honest, they get some mindblowing sex out of it. So it’s not anybody’s business but each other’s. 

After a while, Y/N’s finished putting the cream on George’s back. She spent the time mumbling apologies whenever George winces, she didn’t realise how hard she was going so she makes a mental note to not rip apart his back the next time they see each other. She presses a gentle kiss to the base of George’s neck, something she doesn’t think too much about but it feels like it’s blurring the lines between romantic and platonic right now and she feels herself panic a tiny bit.

“Do you work tomorrow?” She asks George, who hums in agreement. His eyes are droopy like he’s almost falling asleep and Y/N expected this. He’s putty in anybody’s hands the second you start trailing your hands gently up any part of his body, specifically his back. “Are you sleeping here tonight?” she giggles as she asks and George sighs. 

“I probably shouldn't but-” he cuts himself off with a yawn before rolling over onto his back. “Your bed is just so much more comfortable than mine.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, pushing him slightly before jumping off the bed and leaving George to frown at her when she moves from her spot next to him. She grabs her wand from her bedside table, walking through her flat to make sure all her lights are turned off before enchanting ‘lumos’ so she can light her way back to her bedroom. 

“You’re letting me stay?” She nods at his words, crawling into bed with him. While she knows George is a sucker for physical affection, Y/N is also well aware he hates sleeping cuddled up to people so she gives him his space in the bed. Because of this, she doesn’t expect George to shift his body so even though they’re not cuddling, they’re still close, a simple form of comfort that neither of them can decipher as platonic or romantic.

“Yes, you can stay,” she says, rubbing her thumb along George’s hand as a way of saying goodnight, “but you wake me up before 9am tomorrow and you die.” 

-----

When Y/N wakes up the next morning to her alarm going off, the side of the bed is empty and cold. Her alarm clock reads 10:30am, so she knows George has been gone for a few hours at this point. She feels a small sense of sadness, remembering how fun the mornings are the times George sleeps over and stays until she wakes up. 

She sighs, deciding there’s no point in dwelling on George’s absence. When she walks into her kitchen, she checks her kettle; cursing George when she finds it empty because she knows he just had to have a cup of tea before leaving this morning and rolls her eyes as she fills it herself. Her kettle’s boiling as she potters around when she spots a piece of paper with George’s writing all over it. 

‘George’s excuses for the hickeys’ the note reads in his messy scrawl, and Y/N has to stifle a cackle before she continues to read. ‘1. ran into a door’ is scratched out immediately and she knows George probably thought it was a good idea at first before realising the hickeys are on her neck, so the running into the door isn't feasible. ‘2. bug’ is the next one and she has to stop herself from rolling her eyes and when she goes back to George’s oh so incredible list, her breath hitches. 

‘3. be honest and say you hooked up with someone’ makes Y/N’s heart sink. She hasn’t slept with anyone besides George in the past six months, hasn’t wanted to either for that matter, but it makes her realise something. 

She doesn’t know if George is the same. 

She’s well aware of their situation and the lack of commitment outside of promising to come over later, but her emotions hit her harder than she thought they would. While she wouldn’t complain if she and George became something more, she knows it’s not what either of them is looking for at the moment, so she doesn’t understand why she’s so hurt. Does George think I shag other people? she thinks before the kettle starts to hiss to indicate the water is boiled and she’s brought back to reality. 

After drinking her tea, Y/N begins to get ready, trying her best to cover the purple bruises littering her neck and trying to keep herself under control while she admires them in the mirror. Soon enough, she’s out the door and making her way to Diagon Alley where she spots Angie, talking with Fred.

“Y/N!” Fred exclaims as she gets closer and waves frantically as she walks towards them. “We’re just talking about how we think George has a bird!” Y/N chokes on air, her brows furrowing at Fred’s words. They’ve been so careful, a bit too careful when it comes to hiding their relationship from their friends so she doesn’t understand.

“Why do you think that?” Her tone is casual, trying to act natural as she tries to find out what signs could point to their... activities being exposed, and to his brother of all people.

Fred starts laughing again, holding his stomach as he tries to tell the story. “He didn’t come home last night- I only noticed because I was up at 3 and his bedroom door was open which was weird because he didn’t tell me he was going out!” Fred’s animated when he’s talking, taking a sip of his drink and using his free hand to emphasise his story. “And when he was reaching for something in a closet today he winced, like his back hurt!” 

Y/N stares at Fred blankly, memories of the night before flooding her memory when Fred mentions George wincing. She knows now is not the time to start thinking about how good George made her feel last night. “What does wincing have to do with anything?” 

She knows she made a mistake when Fred’s eyes widen, staring at her. “Well, my dear prude Y/N, my back only hurts when it’s scratched up from a good fu-” 

“Okay, we do not need to hear about your sex life,” Angie says, grabbing Y/N by the shoulders and steering her off. “We have a lunch date that you’re not invited to.” She’s smiling when she says it and when Fred bids the two girls goodbye, Angie calls out something about making fun of George for her. 

She’s quiet on the walk to the cafe she and Angelina have planned for lunch, lost in thoughts. She’s stuck on the idea of George sleeping with other people even though she knows she was the one with George last night, that she was the one scratching up his back. They walk in tandem, Angelina raving about Quidditch while Y/N nodded in acknowledgement at appropriate times. 

Eventually, they reach the cafe, quickly taking a seat and looking at the menu. It’s then when Angelina’s hand pulls the menu down from Y/N’s face and she’s giving the girl a questioning look.

“What’s wrong?” She asks.

Y/N stares at her, not understanding how she did anything to convey any feeling at all, let alone a feeling of something being wrong. She’s about to deny it when she looks Angelina in the eye, and she realises she can’t lie to her because she’d be questioned for the rest of lunch. “Do you think George has a friend with benefits?”

Angelina giggles at Y/N’s words, smiling slightly. “I know you’re sleeping with him.” She says it so casually that Y/N doesn’t even process what she said for a few beats. She half expected her friend to admit she was also sleeping with George, after all, she used to suspect they had a thing when they were teenagers but this is the last thing she expected. 

She’s so baffled she can’t even deny it, no words leaving her mouth for a second before she just stares at Angelina, “How?”

Angelina keeps smiling, quickly ordering their drinks when the waitress comes over and requests a little longer to decide on food before turning back to her friend sitting dumbfounded across the table. “Fred might be stupid and oblivious, but I’m not. I see the way he looks at you.” 

Y/N doesn’t think George looks at her in any particular way, at least he doesn’t when she isn’t under him and she notices Angelina’s eyes soften when Y/N doesn’t say anything. “You didn’t know before sleeping with him?”

“Didn’t know what before sleeping with him?”

“That he likes you?” Y/N thinks Angelina’s being stupid; it’s always been her liking George and George not noticing, not the other way around. George has always been sweet and gentle in bed, way nicer and way more giving than any other romantic partner in her past, but she’s always chalked it up to him just being George. That’s how she’s always known him, how she knew him when they met at 11, how she knew him on the Quidditch pitch when they were 15 and how she knows him now, at 22 and in his bed. 

“He doesn’t like me, you’re just making stuff up!” She’s adamant Angelina’s just messing with her but Angelina just sighs, obviously ready to move on from the topic. “He doesn’t,” she whispers to no one in particular and she feels Angelina grab her hand, rubbing a thumb across the top in a comforting kind of way.

“I guess it’s not my place to say,” she starts, “but I’ve never seen George treat someone else like the way he treats you. It’s like... It’s like you’re glass, that he’s scared of breaking you and you have to be in his sights at all times.” It’s soft and Y/N knows it’s genuine as much as she hates to admit it. 

The conversation changes, thankfully putting Y/N and George out of the hot seat but she’s hanging onto every word of Angelina’s, suddenly overthinking every interaction she’s had with the redhead in the past few months. Panic starts to set in and it only gets worse when Angelina bids her goodbye.

Her thoughts are loud; does she like George or does she like the way George makes her feel? What if George has liked her this entire time and she’s mistaken her feelings for romantic when they’re purely physical? 

As she wonders, she realises she’s being stupid. Y/N knows she likes George, she’s liked George for so long and she likes him so much it hurts. That’s when a new thought arrives, a more sinister thought, a meaner thought; What if Angelina is just completely wrong, that’s always a possibility. What if George doesn’t like her back at all. 

-----

She wanders Diagon Alley, making her way to the Apothecary after remembering she needs some more Valerian sprigs to make a new batch of the Potion for Dreamless Sleep. She’s muttering to herself as she wanders the store, thinking about how these days her best night's sleep are spent besides George but the thought is quickly pushed away when she spots her ingredient of choice and she can barely reach it. 

“Fuck,” she mutters, looking around for a stool or a shop assistant so she can finally get out of Diagon Alley. She’s about to give up and leave herself when she’s met with a tough body slamming into her own. Apologies spill from her mouth quickly, feeling terrible she almost knocked this poor guy over in the middle of the Apothecary but when she looks up, George is looking down at her.

“What do you need, darling?” The nickname makes her heart race and she only hopes George can’t hear it seconds away from beating from her chest. She doesn’t respond immediately, preoccupied with how nice he looks and it’s not until he waves in front of her face that she responds.

“Sorry,” she says, shaking her head in a way to push away her thoughts, “was looking for some Valerian sprigs.” She hopes George minds his own business, memories from her meeting with Angelina flooding her thoughts. She starts to over analyse the way George looks at her, whether it’s as if she’s glass, like Angelina claims but when she looks at George, he’s reaching up and grabbing the jar for her.

“Treacle fudge?” He questions, and it takes her a moment to process he’s asking why she needs the ingredient. 

“Dreamless Sleep,” she replies, embarrassed. She’s never needed a sleeping potion when George is around, his presence alone is enough to fight off any unwanted nightmares but that’s the last thing he needs to know. Thankfully, he doesn’t comment, just puts the jar back up on the shelf when she’s done and motions for her to follow him around the store. 

He stops in front of the rose thorns, silently debating how many to get when he feels Y/N’s eyes on him. “Love potion, for WonderWitch,” he says, grabbing some and putting them in a bag before making his way to the counter. He grabs the Valerian sprigs from Y/N’s hand, placing them alongside his rose thorns and ignoring her protests when he hands some Galleons to the shopkeeper. 

“I get a discount,” he says when they exit the shop, “plus, I didn’t mind.” Y/N stares at him, not able to read a single emotion on his face. She thanks him and takes the Valerian sprigs from him and places them in her bag. 

“Do you wanna come over tonight?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fred won’t be home.” His cheeks are flushed red, almost like he’s shy asking to see her for the second night in a row. The word ‘yes’ is on the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill out without her permission. She badly wants to let the word slip as well, but her thoughts from earlier come to the forefront once again and at this moment, Y/N can’t seem to convince herself that George wants her in the same way she wants him.

“No, sorry,” she says bluntly, and she doesn’t miss the look of shock on his face. Y/N has never turned George down and while he respects her no, it confuses him nonetheless. “Just... Not feeling well. You know?”

Y/N knows George doesn’t believe her, she sees it in his eyes, but he hums in acknowledgement before lifting his wrist and checking his watch. “Look, I’ve gotta go, Fred’s going to kill me,” the words are forced like he wants to stay and make sure everything is okay between the pair and he’s being pulled away too soon. “I’ll see you sometime this week, yeah?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Y/N says, knowing he doesn’t mean sometime this week in his bed, but the thought happens before she can stop it and it’s right now she realises she needs to push George away before she gets more hurt. 

-----

It’s been a week since Y/N turned down George’s offer to come over that night, and she has a feeling he’s avoiding her. Usually, when Y/N denies him it only takes him a few days before he comes crawling back or vice versa; they’ve never been able to go long without falling into bed together, the co-dependency on each other for a hook up was one they never discussed, but was known, so the fact George didn’t end up in her bed during the week makes her painfully aware something is wrong and even though she knows it’s her own fault, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.  

The suspicion is only confirmed when she’s dragged to a bar in Muggle London on the following Saturday night. Angie, Katie and Alicia’s complaints that Y/N’s been too high strung this week getting to her and their peer pressure eventually worked. She doesn’t mind the bar- it’s not too busy but it’s still got enough people in it for a good time and Katie and Lee are getting everyone drinks when Y/N spots a head of bright, auburn hair across the room. 

She doesn’t even think twice before knowing it’s George, and it’s got nothing to do with the girl next to him, hanging off every word he’s saying not being Fred’s fiancée. The way she feels in her entire body when she spots him, the ache in her heart she feels is what confirms it’s George. He’s the only person to ever have this kind of power over her and at this moment, she wishes he didn’t. 

Because George is flirting with the girl next to him and she’s batting her eyelashes, clearly happy with the attention the cute redhead is giving her and Y/N wants nothing more than to be in her place and it hurts, even more, knowing she usually is in her place. George is a lot more comfortable talking sex once he has a few glasses of whiskey, so the flirting gets turned up to an eleven and all their friends laugh at his forwardness. 

Angelina sees Y/N staring longingly at the younger twin and without words she knows something is wrong. So she grabs the tequila from Katie and places it in front of Y/N. “Drink it.” She looks at Angelina, confused why her attention was stolen from George but smiles happily when the shot glass is in her hand. 

It burns as it slides down her throat, after all, tequila always does. She quickly takes the lemon from whoever’s holding it out to her, pulling a face as the sourness meets her taste buds. Angelina, Katie and Alicia and hollering when she looks back at them, her friends successfully stealing her attention from George as they drag her to the dancefloor. ABBA is playing over the loudspeaker, and the girls yell in excitement, they would never pass up the opportunity to dance to ABBA; memories of post-Quidditch parties and sneaking Firewhiskey into the Gryffindor Common Room coming to the forefront of their minds. 

They dance for who knows how long with Lee joining them as he dances between Alicia and Katie, playing up the ladies’ man role. It makes Y/N laugh, Lee clearly loving the attention from the girls but it’s at that moment she spots George and the girl from earlier, dancing; George’s hands are on her hips, respectful but holding her close and it fills Y/N with a feeling so horrible, she has to turn around to push the vile, green monster back down. 

Thankfully, or not so thankfully, she’s not entirely sure just yet, she turns to face a guy. He’s cute, got a puppy dog look about him and he smiles at Y/N in a way that indicates he’s asking to dance. She says yes, of course, and her hands wrap around his neck. She hates that she’s spending this time dancing with him comparing him to George; his hands aren’t as calloused, he smells like mint as opposed to the familiar scent of cinnamon and Earl Grey tea, her heart isn't racing like it would if she was with the redhead. 

George sees her across the dance floor because his eyes haven’t left her all night. He knows he’s leading this poor girl on, Bianca is her name; he’s not going to end up taking her home like he knows she’s hoping, but he needed a distraction. When he sees Y/N starting to dance with a guy, his jaw tenses and his eyes narrow; he knows he’s being stubborn. If he just talked to Y/N everything would be sorted but he doesn’t want to be the one to break, he wants Y/N to come to him, to want him. 

Their eyes meet across the dance floor, the guy’s head dipping into the crook of Y/N’s neck, his arm is wrapped around her waist as her back is pressed against his chest, grinding her bum onto his crotch. She tries to look away from George but she can’t, his eyes are enchanting and this is the most attention they’ve gotten from each other since that day in Diagon Alley. George whispers something into the girl’s ear, his grip on her hips getting tighter but his eyes never leave Y/N’s. 

It’s Y/N who breaks eye contact, her head falling back onto her dance partner’s shoulder and when George sees open mouth kisses pressed to Y/N’s neck, he snaps. He mutters an excuse to Bianca and walks as fast as he can to the girl he wants. He sees his friends snickering at each other as they dance but no one says anything.

She feels his presence before she feels him grab her wrist, so he doesn’t scare her. Her head immediately pops up, looking George in the eye. “Oi, nah. I had her first,” the guy behind Y/N says, his grip visually tightening on Y/N as if she’s a toy and George is coming to steal it, but he has to stifle a laugh; the guy’s confident, George’ll give him that.

“Nah, mate,” he starts, the music changing to a more sensual R&B song as he speaks. He sees Y/N blush at his simple words and he gently tugs at her wrist again, not in a demanding kind of way; he’s asking, pleading her to follow him and when she steps away from the guy she was dancing with, she mutters an apology before letting George drag her where he wants to go. 

----

They don’t even say two words to each other once they’re in the bathroom together. George pulls her inside quickly, before pushing her up against the door, attaching his lips immediately to her neck before he gently sucks and bites, subconsciously leaving a small hickey like it's the most natural thing in the world for him to do. She’s missed having him this close so when her fingers rake through his long hair, she gives it a gentle tug before pulling his mouth up to her own, wanting to kiss him with everything she has, needing him even closer. He obliges of course, always happy to give Y/N what she wants.

When George’s lips finally meet hers, he’s kissing her like it’s the last time they’ll ever kiss; it’s messy, desperate, like most of their kisses are, hands gripping wherever they can just to ensure the other isn’t leaving. George is intoxicating to Y/N like she can get drunk from the taste of his whiskey covered lips alone and her head spins when she feels his hands rake up her body, grasping her waist and pushing her harder against the door. A small moan leaving Y/N’s lips is all George needs to force his tongue into her mouth, massaging their tongues together and she tugs at the hair at the nape of his neck again, desperately needing him as close as humanly possible without defiling this public bathroom. The action makes George whimper, loving nothing more than having her fingers tugging at his auburn locks and it gives her a slight power trip. Just a slight one, as she tries to take control of the kiss. 

It doesn’t last long because before she knows it, she’s whimpering under his touch and surrendering everything she has to him as his hands caress her body, grabbing and pulling her to him wherever possible. His hands eventually land on her thighs, and when he grabs them and hoists her up, her legs immediately wrap around his waist. The action alongside the pressure on her crotch makes her moan and she feels George smirk at her noises, obviously feeling proud of being the only person to be able to do this to her. He pivots slightly once he’s holding her, placing Y/N on the counter next to the sink so they’re finally level to kiss comfortably. 

He keeps his spot between her legs, refusing to detach his lips from hers, his hands crawling from her thighs to tightly grasp her hips. If it was any other day, Y/N would’ve said something, telling him to be careful of bruises but right now, after watching him flirt with the girl out in the bar for hours on end, there’s nothing she wants, no needs, more than George marking her in every way he can. 

“Mine,” she moans without thinking, as his lips leave hers, slowly making their way across her jaw and onto her neck once again, licking, biting, sucking. George has always loved her neck and he knows how much she loves having her neck touched. “You’re mine,” she repeats when George doesn’t immediately push her away, and she doesn’t even have time to decide to panic before she hears a groan in her ear.

“Yours,” he whispers, his hot breath causing goosebumps to prickle along her skin. The words don’t even process in her brain before she feels George pull away from her. The lack of contact makes her whine, she never wants to be far away from George ever again but he smiles, presses the most gentle kiss on her lips before looking her directly in her eyes, “I’m yours.” 

Her heart stops, she never thought for a second she’d hear George mutter those words, let alone in a dingey, small bathroom of a bar in Central London, but here it is. “Don’t play with me, Georgie,” she whispers. From her spot on the counter, she can look him directly in the eyes; his cheeks are flushed red, his pupils are blown, lips swollen and red. His hair has gotten messy from her pulling at it but she can’t bring herself to feel bad that she ruined his perfectly styled hair because at this moment, she thinks this is the most beautiful she’s ever seen him, so vulnerable and the look of adoration in his eyes fills her chest with hope. 

“Would I ever play with you, darling?” He asks, his words are sincere and she knows it. It’s soft, reminiscent of all those times he’s looked after her after having sex, when he promises to look after her, always. 

“I’d hope not, I was having fun with…” She trails off, realising she never caught his name before she starts laughing. She feels George’s hands tighten against her thighs, hyperaware of his touch on her skin and she grabs one of his hands. “I didn’t actually know his name. I was pretending he was you.”

She says it so softly she wouldn’t be shocked if he missed it, but he didn’t. He hangs to every word she says, he always does and when he smiles, Y/N feels herself relax. “I was using Bianca to make you jealous,” he admits, laughing to himself. He knew the pair of them were being stupid, that they could have just talked but the fear of rejection clearly got the best of both of them. 

“I’ve liked you for so long, and maybe I shouldn't have put friends with benefits on the table knowing that, but I needed you.” He’s never spoken truer words, his left hand leaving her thigh and gently caressing her cheek. Her makeups smudged from both the sweat from dancing and the desperation from not even five minutes ago, her hairs messy and her lips are swollen just as much as his but he wants to take her home, right this second, and show her in so many ways how much he loves her.

“I like you, too.” 

His eyes prick up at her words and he didn’t realise he wasn’t holding eye contact until now. She takes her own left hand and mirrors George’s action on himself; hoping to convey everything she’s felt for him through nothing but looks. “I had to back away last week, I thought I had to get over you. Angie said some dumb shit and I started to overthink and I’m so-”

He cuts her off with a kiss and it’s so different to their usual ones. It’s soft and gentle like they could stay here for hours doing nothing but kissing and they’d be perfectly content. George pulls her body closer to his, desperate just to have her near when he pulls away, pressing his forward to hers. “Don’t say sorry, please.” 

She opens her mouth again to speak and that’s when he cuts her off again, with another kiss. This happens a few times before Y/N is a giggling mess and George is just kissing her for the sake of having their lips pressed together. “We know now, that’s all I care about.” 

This makes her smile and her heart soar; the boy she’s loved for so long, liking her back once felt like it could only be a dream, and she has to pinch herself multiple times before she finally believes it’s her reality.

They soon realise they’ve been standing in this dirty, bar bathroom for way too long and George helps her down, grabbing her by the hips to stabilise her when her legs slightly give out. He takes her hand in his, softly kissing her knuckles before he opens the bathroom door to sneak out. “My place or yours?” he asks, but he quickly stops, “I’m not expecting to fuck, but like I mean if it happens it happens but- Godric, we can just hang out I’m happy with that unless you want to fuck-”

Y/N’s giggling at his stumbling around on words and she shushes him slightly, his face going bright red when she's the one leaning to press a chaste kiss to his lips. His face is bright red when she speaks, “My place. I live alone.” she winks and runs off after saying this, George hot on her tails and even though there’s music and George’s favourite song is playing, Y/N’s laugh as he chases her out of the bar is his favourite noise. 

[9tzuyu]

closest to me

prompt: coming out to natasha as nonbinary

note: totally meant to write this months ago, but whateverrrr. and yes, i am aware that not all nb people use they/them, this was just my own little work :p.

warnings: being scared to come out to ur sexy redhead russian of a gf :[

i’d tag but i also don’t want to somehow trigger someone :[

thank u moli for proofreading i love u to the moon and back.

. . .

you’d come out to two of your close friends, ones you knew wouldn’t judge you. they’d taken it just as expected, but that was no surprise when you’d known them your entire life. your shared opinions and thoughts were what brought you together in the first place. 

your friends immediately began using your correct pronouns, and you’d never felt more right in your life. it was refreshing to hear yourself being referred by they/them rather than she/her. their constant support made you feel normal again. after so much struggling, things were finally being put into place.

but there was one person, one very important person whom you hadn’t come out to yet, and that was your girlfriend.

natasha.

the thought of having the conversation alone with her was terrifying. granted, you knew she’d never be anything but supportive, but all the what if’s came flooding through with each attempt you made. 

your fingers trembled as you fiddled with the silver chain around your neck, a nervous habit you’d seemed to form over the years of wearing it. 

god you wanted to tell her so bad.

but as you stood in the kitchen, natasha’s hands around your waist, you began to panic all over again. the familiar fear of judgment wrapped around your throat. 

you didn’t know natasha the majority of your life like you did with friends, so you weren’t really sure what her exact opinions on different pronouns were. sure, she was part of the lgbt community, and of course she was supportive of trans people, but it still made you wonder how she’d feel about pronouns that weren’t he/him or she/her. 

“what’s on your mind, baby? i can practically hear the gears turning in your head.” 

you sighed. natasha always knew when you were lying, so you couldn’t make something up off the top of your head. she wouldn’t force you to talk either though. she’d give a push, but nothing more until you were certain you were ready — or in some cases, when she knew it was becoming too much to bear on your own. 

“just dumb stuff. i’ll get over it soon.” 

natasha nodded against your back, containing her concern for now. “you know i’m here.” she whispered, taking one of your hands away from your necklace.

“want to go downtown? we can look at some of the new shops that just opened up” 

you smiled, “sure.”

for the next few weeks, you weren’t seeming to find any relief though, and natasha picked up on it. she tried her best to make things easier for you, but none of it seemed to work. 

time and time again you reassured her that nothing was wrong, that things would clear up on their own, but another month down the road and natasha could still sense that something was eating away at you.

it’d gotten a little more obvious now. you didn’t go out as much with her when she was with her friends. the constant referral to you as something, or someone, you weren’t was a steady reminder of how outcast you’d originally felt when coming to terms with who you are. 

“she/her” felt like a slap in the face every time you heard it. the words were exhausting, damn near agonizing to hear. but day after day you tried to suck it up out of fear of being rejected by one of the very special people you loved most. 

it wasn’t until one sunday night when natasha came home to you crying in your shared bed when she’d finally had enough. her worry was through the roof and seeing you struggle so much pained her. 

she dropped her keys on the nightstand and crawled into bed behind you, securing her arms tightly around your figure. 

“talk to me. whatever it is, i want to hear about it.”

but that only made you cry harder. you couldn’t help but feel more alienated than you already felt. why were you crying over such a stupid little thing? you could already hear the false words slip from natasha’s lips.

“hey, baby. shh, shh, you’re okay.”

you turned your body to face natasha, teary eyes looking into hers. “you might hate me, or think i’m weird, or a freak, or that i’m just confused.” 

your girlfriend gently combed through your hair with her nails. “i could never think those things about you. please tell me what this is about because i have no idea and i just want to help.”

her steady hand movement rubbing your arm while the other twirled your hand between her fingertips eventually brought you to a more reasonable state. 

“you know how trans people typically go by their opposing pronouns?”

“mhm.”

“well... i don’t- i just- god this is so frustrating!” you frowned, unconsciously grasping at the chain around your neck.

“are you trying to tell me you’re trans?”

“no, no, it’s not that. well, i don’t think so, depends on who you talk to. some people like me consider themselves to be classified under the trans umbrella, but not everyone.” 

natasha hummed once more while tracing small shapes against your skin. 

“what do you think of nonbinary people? like, you know, those who don’t use she/her or he/him?” 

she shrugged, and your heart sank for a brief second before she spoke. “i don’t have a problem with it. why?”

“i don’t like being referred to as she/her. my pronouns are they/them. i’m not a man and i’m not a woman... will that ever bother you?”

a smile broke out across the redhead’s face. “doesn’t bother me one single bit. i love you for you, y/n. not for who you think you’re supposed to be.” 

relief was all you could feel. as cliche as it sounded, the weight of the world felt like it had been lifted from your shoulders. you didn’t have to worry anymore, not while natasha was around.

“is this what’s been bothering you for so long?”

you reached over and grabbed a loose red strand, it was your turn to play with her hair. “yeah. i knew you wouldn’t judge, but-”

“what if.” she confirmed and you nodded. 

“does anyone else know?”

“just my two friends i grew up with.”

“no one else?” you shook your head, looping a red curl around your finger. “nope.”

“is that why you stopped hanging out with me, tony, clint and the rest of them? because everyone referred to you as she and her?”

“yeah, felt like a punch in the stomach every time i heard it. made me feel weird, not normal i guess.” you mumbled, almost embarrassed by the confession.

natasha placed a long kiss on the top of your head, rubbing your back for extra support. “they would never judge you, i’d cut them off in a heartbeat if they did. if it helps any, i can ask how they feel about it? poke around some and let you know what they say? then when they don’t have a problem with it, which they won’t, you can come out when you’re ready, yeah?”

you nodded again, although it was slightly hesitant. “sounds good.”

“forgive me if i mess up a couple of times. i’ll try not to make a big deal out of it and just correct myself.” another kiss was delivered to your head.

“oh! last question. promise.”

“yes?”

“when im around other people and you’re not with me do you want me to use they/them? i don’t want to out you when you’re not ready.”

“i swear you’re perfect,” you giggled. “but you can use they/them both when im with you and when i’m not. just try to keep it casual? please?”

“anything for you, sweetheart.”

[words-for-holland]

Always Yours

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Sometimes dating a celebrity is hard...but Tom & Y/N have always said no matter what happens they could get through anything. Some angst but a lot of fluff.

A/N: So sorry for leaving yall hanging! Life is just crazy right now and this blog needs a lot of TLC tbh!! Also ehh I def dont think this was my best work but enjoy?

“Oof” Y/N lets out as she plops on to her boyfriend who was lying comfortable on the couch. Tom groaned at the impact with a cheeky smile on his face, his arms instantly wrapping around Y/N’s frame.

“Y’know..there are empty seats right there.” The soft brown-eyed boy gestured with the flick of his thick head as Y/N raises her eyes looking down at him, pretending to be slightly offended.

“Oh I see how it is then. It’s cool...Ill just cuddle with Tessa instead. I know she would welcome me with open arms instead of—” As she slowly starts getting off his chest, Tom is quick to pull her back in, securing her with his strong arms. “No baby, I was just kidding. I want you right here, and Im never letting you go.” he pleas.

The only thing Y/N could manage was letting out a fit of giggles into his chest, a sound that Tom adored and would do absolutely anything to hear every minute of every day. They stay like this for a while enjoying the feeling of each other as they both run their hands into each others hair, the feeling of their chests moving up and down, the subtle thumps of their heartbeats, and the little slips of adoration that came out of their mouths. It was peaceful. A moment that nobody could really take a way because it was theirs.

Y/N casually pulls up her phone, and scrolls through Twitter when she noticed a particular tweet on her timeline. Her eyebrows furrow, as she read the 160 character message.

Why Tom Holland Should Be With Aaliyah Cole and Dump Y/N: A Thread.

She knew it wasnt a good idea to open up the thread. She knew very well that everything within the shallow string of tweets would be a complete waste of her time because it was made up by fans who just wanted to satisfy their fantasy of shipping Tom with his co-star. Who can blame them? They always had great chemistry, but it was part of the job and thats all it would ever be.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Tom murmurs, as he places soft kisses at the crown of her head. “Whats going on?” She was lucky her phone was facing away from Tom, quickly closing the app and pretending to be on one of her many tabs in Safari.

“Mmm..nothing.” Y/N lies softly, a tight-lipped smiled plastered on her face.

“Absolute bullocks. Youre not a very good liar.” He chuckles. “Tell me darling. Whats on your mind?”

Y/N rolls her eyes in response. She’s heard that comment one too many times in her life from everyone shes known. After not giving it much thought, she gives in, sighing heavily. “Dont judge me for what Im about to say.”

“Mmm...I think it might depend on wha— Ow” Tom reacts as he playfully rubs the side of his chest that Y/N hit. “Okay too soon for jokes. Go on.”

Again, Y/N sighs as she props herself up. “Its just ... well a lot of your fans keeps talking about wanting you to get with Aaliyah.” She looks down trying not to make eye contact with Tom, who she’d imagine was looking at her with annoyance.

Tom rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness. Not so much at Y/N but the fact that some of his fans just didnt want to accept the fact that he was happy with Y/N. If it had to come from his mouth to stop the stupid rumors and give his girlfriend peace, then hed gladly yell it from the rooftops for everyone to hear. “Thats it Im making a statement about it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen in fear, scrambling to prevent him from grabbing his phone on the table next him. “No no no no.” She repeatedly declines. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Darling, Im not going to stand here and watch you get all insecure because of their delusional ship.”

“Yeah well Im not gonna be the reason your fans hate me because Im getting in the way of your friendship with Aaliyah Cole.” She fires back.

Tom was ready to open his mouth only to be cut off once again. “And you know better. That is how your fans will always see it.”

“Okay, are you done?” He calmly asked, cautiously observing her. Rarely did Y/N ever get worked up about anything, but when she had her tangents, Tom always made sure she got off everything she needed to say before he becomes her voice of reason.

“Yeah, I guess.” she says feeling defeated. “Look its whatever and Im tired, can we just let this go and forget this whole conversation even happened?”

Tom was unconvinced, but didnt want to push her further. So reluctantly, he gave in and wrapped his arms around Y/N as they both tried to lull themselves to sleep.

***

Y/N wasnt sure how she ended up in the Tube. It was strange how the lights flickered off the rusted tile floor. The train was no where to be seen, but off to the side of the railroads was pitch black, she could hardly see beyond. To her right she noticed herself standing in the corner of the room, and to her surprise Aaliyah was there. Her milk chocolate kissed skin, and fashionably long frizzy hair dropped down past her shoulders. Her figure long and poised, as she wore a rain jacket and sweats. An outfit only she could pull off and make it look like she was a model for Vogue. Aasliyah smiles brightly at Y/N.

“Hey Y/N.” She says cheerfully as a genuine friend would.

To Y/N’s surprise she greeted her back in the same tone. “Hey Aaliyah...uhh whats going on?” Y/N wasnt sure if she wanted the answer of how they both ended up in the Tube or if she truly wanted to know how her day went.

“Well Im getting ready to present at the Oscars.” She replies, a smile plastered as if she was so excited about it, almost too excited like she was keeping a secret.

“Really? Oh my god, that’s amazing! Im so proud of you Aaliyah! Who are you taking?”

Aaliyah pauses for a few moment looking back and forth, making sure no one else was around. “Okay can you keep a secret?” She whispered.

Y/N nods her head slowly, not having the slightest clue of what was going on. “Im taking Tom. I think he really likes me, and well...I like him too! Do you think maybe I should ask him when we go?” Aaliyah asked genuinely. It was almost like she had no recollection of Y/N and Tom being a couple. “I think we would look good together. Everyone is already making rumors and ships about us.”

Y/N backs aways lowly only to bump into a broad figure. As she turns around she sees Tom, emotionless and almost sad. “Y/N.” He speaks out. “I dont think this is going to work out. Im leaving you.”

Y/N’s heart quickens, and her breaths become shorter as she tries to find a way to run. Running and running into the darkness, until all she could hear was Tom’s faint voice calling out her name.

***

“Y/N! Y/N! Baby wake up please.” Tom cries as he gently shakes his girlfriend from her disturbed sleep.

Quickly Y/N opens her eyes and clutches on to Toms hoodie firmly. Back home, and in Toms arms. It was a dream was all she thought. A sigh of relief escaping from her mouth.

“Darling...” he speaks softly, worried about his girlfriend. “Are you okay?”

Y/N looks up at him and nods frantically. “Mmm..bad dream.”

“Yeah it seemed like it. You were so frightened...I was scared. What happened?” He’s looking at her, trying to read her saddened eyes, wanting to desperately understand what scared her so he could make it all go away for her.

Y/N looks down at her fiddling hands, as she sits on the couch. “I uhh...” she lets out a chuckle, thinking of the ridiculousness of it all. “I uhh...dreamed about Aaliyah going to the oscars and saying how she loved you and how you two are perfect for each other. When I turned around I saw you but you werent happy and said you were leaving me.”

Tom doesnt say a word, all he could think about was how sorry he felt to put Y/N in this position. Though both of them knew, It wasnt Toms fault, or anyone’s for that matter. Feelings are feelings and that was okay. No human being was ever born perfect and without insecurities.

Y/N always tried to be a good sport with situations like this knowing every shippers theory and evidence were hardly ever true, but at some point there was only so much she could take before it all came out like an oil spill. Maybe it was a sign that she wasnt good enough to be with Tom if half of his fanbase thought this way as well.

Tom cradled her into his arms again, holding her tightly and kissing the top of her head. “Darling, I know youre still doubting yourself about all of this, but please believe me when I tell you that I love you so so much and no matter what happens...Im always yours.” He whispers gently in her ear. “It was only a dream and these ridiculous rumors and theories are just that. No one woman in the world could ever make me feel the way I feel for you.”

Y/N blinks softly, as she stares into space. Afraid and in a weird way ashamed, its funny how something so small and so minimal could affect her self-esteem so greatly. Tom gently brings her head up, so her eyes can meet his. He rolls his thumb on the bottom of her soft lips. “Hey, I love you.” Tom smiles.

Time stopped for the both of them the moment Y/N looked into his eyes, she felt safe. All the bad words and thoughts slowly disappear. Tom was right, none of the things that anyone said about their relationship mattered. She knew Tom loved her, and how much she truly loved him. Isnt that enough? Of course not. It was more than enough. A smile slowly forming on Y/N’s face. “Theres that smile I love so much.” He comments.

“Im sorry, for being such a —”

“No. Its okay. You have a right to feel the way you did.” He picks up her hand and leaves a gentle kiss.

“I love you so much Tom.” She says pressing her lips to his. “I dont deserve you.”

“Darling, its me that doesnt deserve you. Im always yours.” Tom proclaims as he kisses her back.