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alittlebitofsainz · 16 days

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- he kissed me right in front of my friends -

prompt: “i threw a party, he kissed me right in front of my friends, i felt so far from the cliffs.”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: if you could have one birthday wish granted, it would be that you no longer had to hide your relationship.

a/n: lyrics from track #89 there it goes by maisie peters :)

masterlist | the spotify wrapped collection

“hey, happy birthday baby!”

you couldn’t help but let your lips curve into a soft smile as lando pressed a kiss to your cheek, holding out a bag full of presents as he stepped inside your apartment. you accepted it graciously, eyes wide at the sheer number of gifts.

“lan, you really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” he cut you off with a shake of his head, “for my special girl.”

he leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips, but you quickly batted him away.

“careful, lan, people might see!” you giggled, looking up at him like he’d lost his mind. it had been eight months of keeping your relationship under wraps, and while you both understood why it had to be that way, it still didn’t make it easy. it was moments like these where you yearned for a normal relationship, one where your partner wasn’t in the spotlight, one where he could give you a kiss on your birthday and it wouldn’t be plastered all over social media the next day. but it was worth it, you thought as you looked up at lando’s face, eagerly waiting for you to open your presents. it was worth it to call him yours, even if it was only in secret.

yeah, it was worth it, you thought, as you watched lando laughing uncontrollably at something max had said, the two of them stationed behind the dj booth you’d hired for the party. in general, lando didn’t go much on drinking, and he’d sworn off djing for the most part, but he was willing to make exceptions for your special day, and you smiled to see him enjoying himself. your best friend followed your gaze, noticing you phasing out of the group conversation you were in, and nudged you.

“you’re staring, y/n. you totally fancy him.” she teased, and for a moment you almost slipped up, you almost replied with yeah, I really do. but you caught yourself, instead laughing it off with a sharp shake of your head, elbowing her right back.

“knock it off, we’re just mates.” you protested, but your friend arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips in a way that suggested that she didn’t quite believe you. she opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, the lights shut off and the music cut out. you instinctively glanced over back towards the dj booth, eyes searching for lando, confused to find him gone. but the confusion only lasted for a moment as a glow of light emerged from the kitchen; twenty lit candles pressed into a cake, held up by lando as he brought it across the room towards you, all your friends joining in and singing happy birthday to you. you grinned, feeling tears prick your eyes. god, you’d never been happier. there was only one thing that could’ve made this day more incredible, and you sighed to yourself as you watched lando bring the cake closer, lowering it slightly so you could blow out the candles. his eyes locked on yours for just a moment, and you swore you felt your heart stop.

“make a wish.” he murmured.

you blew out the candles, earning a cheer and a few hip hip hoorays from your friends gathered around you. lando set the cake down on the table, another friend stepping in to help cut and distribute it to guests, allowing you just a moment to talk whilst everyone was distracted.

“what did you wish for?” he asked, voice low, making you lean in to be able to hear him above the music which had started up again. you arched an eyebrow.

“if I tell you, it won’t come true.” you retorted, the corner of your lips curving up into a wry smile. it always gave you butterflies, flirting with lando in public. something about it made you feel like you were still in that stage where anything could happen, like you were just starting to get to know him all over again. his expression changed slightly as he reached into his back pocket.

“now don’t yell at me, but I got you one last present.”

“lando!” you protested; you’d already admonished him earlier after you’d opened all your gifts from him. you could tell he’d spent a lot of money, more than you believed you deserved, on anything you’d ever mentioned wanting. shoes, a nice handbag, a designer coat, expensive earrings. but it wasn’t just material things, he’d got tickets to than gig you mentioned you wanted to go to, taken out an annual membership for the gardens you always liked going to for some peace and quiet, donated money to the shelter your parents adopted the family dog from. it was far too much, yet lando insisted it wasn’t enough to show you how much he loved you.

“I said don’t yell at me!” he replied playfully, producing a small wrapped item and holding it out to you, “it’s not an expensive one. it’s just… well, just open it and see.”

you peeled off the wrapping paper with gentle fingers, the package feeling so delicate in your hands compared to all the other larger gifts he’d showered you with. it revealed a gold necklace, with a single ‘L’ hanging from the chain. you looked at it, awestruck, running a finger over the gold letter.

“lan, this is beautiful.” you murmured softly.

“to remind you how much I love you, even if I can’t always show it.” he explained softly, and you felt a lump form in your throat. it was so bittersweet, you thought, as he took the necklace from your hands and instructed you to turn around so he could fasten it round your neck. the necklace was like some sort of twisted metaphor for your relationship, always there but often hidden. you turned back to face him, glancing down to admire the jewellery for a moment. if people saw this, it wouldn’t take them long to join the dots, to make the connection, especially if you were next to lando. you sighed, reaching to take the ‘L’ between your fingers and tuck it under your top, to hide it away. but lando’s hand was on yours in an instant, holding it in place, his fingers clasped round yours, clasped round the golden letter. you looked up in surprise.

“don’t hide it.” he said softly, “fuck it. I want people to see it. I want them to know.”

the confidence with which he had said it startled you, but in the best way. you barely had time to process the words before his hand had snaked around your waist, pulling you to him, his lips on yours in an instant. it wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was a kiss that let everyone know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were his, and he was yours.

you pulled away for a moment, eyes on him, but in your peripheral vision you clocked a few of your friends watching the two of you, mouths open, slices of cake forgotten about. your best friend had a smug grin on her face, one that said that she knew all along. you saw max begrudgingly slip pietra a ten pound note. lando saw it too, and laughed. and then you laughed. and then you kissed him again.

“happy birthday.” he murmured, resting his forehead on yours.

“I got my birthday wish.” you murmured in reply.

a/n: and thus concludes the little ‘just friends’ mixtape! check out the previous tracks below:

told her you were just a friend | just don’t want your friend to see

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 imagine

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feyhunter78 · 3 months

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Split Lips and Busted Knuckles - Nerd!Miguel

Description: A chance meeting with Miguel's half-brother Kron leads to you seeing a different side of Miguel.

Nerd!Miguel masterlist here!!

Seriously you hate men, maybe not all of them, obviously not Miguel, but a lot if not most of them, and you really fucking hate Kron. Tall, blond, an extremely punchable face and an attitude that screamed “I waste my daddy’s money on cocaine.” He was a complete and utter rich asshole. One who seemed to be intent on talking to you.

You had a Mid-18th Century History class together, and he always tried to catch you after class. Luckily, you had a few sisters in your class as well, and you could hide within the pack to avoid him. Then he tried to catch you before class, but your professor called you over, safe again. But now here in the courtyard, an open space filled with frat boys you stupidly decided to wander through on your way to meet Miguel, there was nowhere to hide.

“Y/N, hey y/n, wait up.” Kron calls, waving wildly to get your attention.

You stop and press your lips together, before putting on a fake smile. He was the social chair for KA, and you know some of your sisters have been dying to be invited to their parties. “Hey Kron, what’s up?”

He gives you a smile, one that you think is supposed to be friendly, even nonthreatening, but it gives you the creeps. “Not much, just wanted to ask you about something I heard from a few people.”

“Oh?” You rack your brain trying to come up with some semblance of an idea about what he’s talking about but come up empty.

“Yeah, I heard you’ve been hanging out with my brother.” He says, his blue eyes hold you fast, like a butterfly pinned to a board.

“Your brother? I didn’t know you had a brother.” You say, brow furrowing as you try to remember meeting someone who looks like Kron but isn’t actually Kron.

“Well, he’s my half-brother, my dad is the ultimate stud, so you know, things happen and then Miguel just showed up.” He explains, not even seeming fazed or upset that his dad had an affair.

You blink owlishly, his words echoing in your brain as you try to put two and two together. “Miguel, as is Miguel O’Hara?”

He nods, “that’s the one, weird ass nerd, he refused to join KA with me, even though I told him that’s the only way he’ll make friends.”

“He’s not weird.” You bristle, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kron holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, chill, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, okay, so I’ve been hanging out with him, who cares?” You glance at your watch; you’re going to be late.

There’s a very real and slightly concerning pain in your chest at the thought of Miguel sitting alone in the student center, waiting for you like a lost puppy, thinking you abandoned him.

Kron rests a hand on your shoulder, and you fight the urge to shrug it off. “Look Miguel, he’s my half-brother and yeah, he’s fucking annoying, and a try-hard, but he’s a nice guy, too nice. Don’t waste your time with him, it’s social suicide. He’s a nobody, a fucking loser who cares more about Legos and fucking science or whatever than getting laid.”

“I really don’t care about social suicide, but thanks, I think I can make my own decisions.” You tell Kron, giving him that same, perfectly crafted customer service smile.

“Y/N, you don’t get it, I’m trying to help you. He’s a loser, back in high school, no girls gave him a chance, he’s a total virgin okay, and you need a real man.”

And there it is, the real reason Kron doesn’t want you hanging with Miguel.

“A real man, huh? Well, you know what Kron, why don’t you let me know when you’ve found one and then get back to me.” You pat his hand that’s still on your shoulder.

His face goes red, then the color drains and his eyes harden. “I’m trying to help you, bitch.”

“Appreciate it, don’t need it, thanks though.” You walk off, head held high, hands shaking in anger as you shove them in your jacket pockets.

Miguel is sitting at your normal table, the one tucked in the corner secluded and shaded by large hedges, his head in a book, his glasses slipping down his nose.

You set your stuff down and push them up, smiling at his startled look. “Hey, sorry about the wait.”

He shakes his head, pink tinting his cheeks. “No worries, I was reading up on next week’s lecture for my genetics class.

You slide into the seat across from him. “Oh yeah? Anything interesting?”

You can’t believe he’s a virgin, he’s so…hot. Your mind starts to wonder for a second, imagining what it would be like, how he’d sound, how he’d feel, the flustered look on his face when you straddle him.

He nods, and begins to explain, talking wildly with his hands, pulling you from your lewd thoughts, then he freezes, his shoulders tensing, his hands deathly still.

“Miguel? Everything alright?” You ask, casting a glance over your shoulder in the direction of his gaze.

Fucking Kron.

When Kron gets closer you yell out, “so what are you like a stalker now or something?”

He laughs, it’s that specific laugh that reeks of arrogance and an inability to see women as people. “You wish.”

“I really don’t.” You grumble, turning back to look at Miguel.

His knuckles are white, his jaw clenched, his back ramrod straight, his shoulders set back, the expanse of his chest on display as if he’s trying to make himself look bigger than he already is, which is a feat in itself. There’s a look in his eyes that sends a shiver of something akin to fear down your spine. You’ve never seen Miguel look this way, ever, it’s like you’re looking at a whole different person.

“Migs, how you doing, bro?” Kron asks, standing between you and Miguel, who both remain seated, resting his hands on the table.

“Kron.” Miguel says curtly, turning that ice-cold gaze fully onto his half-brother.

Kron rolls his shoulders back and glances at you. “I thought I told you there’s nothing to be gained from hanging with this loser.”

Your eyes flicker back to Miguel, who’s giving Kron a harsh look you can’t quite decipher, then to Kron. “And I thought I told you I can make my own decisions.”

Kron clicks his tongue. “What’s he gonna do for you, he’s a fucking virgin. Just gonna try to make you cum by explaining science facts to you? Build you a dildo out of Legos?”

You nearly choke on your own spit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?

“If you’re that desperate for dick, you can always swing by the house, I’d be more than happy—” Kron hits the ground with a strangled yelp.

Miguel is on him in seconds, fist cocked back, his back muscle rippling as he brings his fist down, again and again and again. “Di esa mierda otra vez. Dilo de nuevo, te reto a la mierda.” Trsl: Say that shit again. Say it again, I fucking dare you.

Kron manages to get one arm free and tries to grab Miguel’s face, shirt, arm, anything he can reach. “You’re fucking crazy, you and your sorority slut.” Kron lands a solid hit, and you wince at the sight of Miguel’s head turning—even if it’s ever so slightly—with the force, Kron’s smug laugh ringing through the air once more.

“You never know when to shut up, huh?” Miguel snarls, forcing Kron’s arm down with his free hand, the other connecting with Kron’s nose, a sickening crack filling the air.

The sound prompts you into action, and you ignore the way your stomach flips at Miguel’s tone, at the way he moves, like a panther, powerful, stalking its prey, delivering that fatal blow.

Be so for real y/n, you cannot be turned on right now, that’s so embarrassing.

You grab Miguel’s shoulders and try to pull him away, it’s useless, but you try anyways. “Stop, stop, you have to stop, fuck come on Miguel—if they catch you fighting on campus you could lose your scholarship.”

“Shit, okay, I yield, I’m sorry.” Kron coughs out, blood gushing from his nose as his voice joins yours.

But Miguel doesn’t stop, he’s cursing under his breath, and at Kron in Spanish, his hand bloody, Kron’s flailing helplessly in his vice grip.

You try to grab Miguel’s bicep, fear flooding your system. “Miguel, stop, please, you’re freaking me out.”

That catches his attention.

Miguel mutters something to Kron then gets up, shoving his stuff in his bag and walking away, his shoulders tense.

In shock, you grab a bunch of napkins and your things, before chasing after him.

Why is this still kinda hot? You wonder, before mentally smacking yourself upside the head.

Miguel’s legs are much longer than yours, his steps bigger, faster, and you grab onto the front pocket of his backpack, his name spilling from your lips. “Miguel, hey, wait up.”

He stops, and you drag him into a nearby alcove with a bench pressed flush against the stone wall.

You both sit and Miguel refuses to look at you, his hand and lip bloodied.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” You ask, taking his hand in yours and dabbing it with a napkin, trying to clean him up the best you can.

“I’m sorry.” Miguel says quietly, eyes downcast.

“Why?” You turn his hand over and start cleaning his palm.

“I scared you, and I—I let my anger get the best of me, I should’ve just walked away.” His eyes meet yours for a brief moment when you gently dab at his lip.

“You didn’t scare me, I mean yeah that was a little intense, but…” You trail off when you realize he’s trembling. “Hey, I’m not afraid of you, you’re Miguel, my sweet boy, who can apparently throw one hell of a punch.”

He laughs at that, albeit weakly, but it’s still a laugh.

“And Kron is an idiot, don’t listen to him.” You continue, spending maybe a bit too long cleaning Miguel’s split lip, mesmerized by him.

“I don’t care what he says about me, he’s been a jerk since we were kids, but…he can’t just—you don’t deserve that.”

You exhale forcefully out of your nose, a small, contained laugh. “He’s just a dumbass saying dumbass stuff, like really, who would build a dildo out of Legos? That would hurt like a bitch.”

“And you don’t—you’re not weirded out by what he said?” Miguel asks carefully, you can feel the embarrassed heat radiating off him.

You set the napkin down and grab his chin with one hand turning his face side to side, inspecting him. You know what he means, not the Legos, or the science facts, the virgin part. It’s such a dumb thing to make fun of someone about something you’ve always been against. Why shame someone for such a personal choice? It’s their body, they can do what they want.

Plus, it’s kinda hot, being the first one to have him? The first one who gets to hear him, see him like that? Fuck, you wish that was you. Maybe you should offer? No, no, y/n, seriously, keep it in your pants.

Once you’re done with your inspection, you turn him to face you. “No, I’m not, who cares if you have or haven’t slept with someone, it’s not a big deal. Though I am surprised, a smart, handsome, sweet guy like you? I thought you’d have tons of girls under your belt. Bunch of math and science prodigies following you around like groupies, fighting to get in your pants.”

Because that’s who Miguel deserves someone smart, someone who can keep up with him—shit pull back, you’re making yourself insecure.

Miguel ducks his head, nuzzling into your palm as a result of the movement. “Thank you, for cleaning me up, and...you know.”

You smile, heart fluttering as Miguel leans into your touch. “No problem.”

You’re in wayyyy too deep.

Virgin Miguel bitchesssss

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #nerd miguel #nerd!miguel #college!miguel #college!reader #sorority!reader #nerd!miguel o'hara #college au #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

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eternalfics · 2 months

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hihi!!! first ask ever so sorry if this comes off as nonsense ahhh 😭😭😭 but i was wondering if you could do like a saiki k x male reader? where male reader transfers into pk academy and is like teruhashi in terms of looks but in terms of personality, he's a more socially awkward quiet and introverted person? so whenever a whole group of students swarm around him, he just freezes in place like he doesnt know what to do and waits for someone to save him like a teacher 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

awkward..?

a/n: hi pookie bear 😘 totally understand you and hope you request more! I was kind of in the writing mood 2day anyway so 😌

warnings:

summary: you find yourself in an awkward situation in the new school you transferred to? is it gonna get better? worse?

okay, this wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be? just a couple stares and gasps as you walked around the school, completely lost.

sure you could have asked a student, but the way they just stared at you in shock when you asked them creeped you out. was there something on your face?

oh! what about that girl with blue hair talking to somebody? it’s rude to interupt a conversation, but it’s just a quick question, it won’t hurt anybody.

you walked up to her and tapped her shoulder. you squinted your eyes slightly from the light she gave off, is this normal? “excuse me, do you know where class-“ you paused. your eyes bulged out of your head. she was gorgeous! you weren’t really looking, expecting that she wouldn’t say anything too but when you met eyes with her you didn’t realise that she was that pretty!

“hm?” she smiled at you gently, waiting for you to say what you were gonna say. come on y/n, she probably dosent have all day and that girl next to her with short brown hair looks.. sad? it’s fine. “do you know where.. year two class three is?”

“oh yeah, I’m in that class!” the girl grinned at you. “my name is kokomi teruhashi, by the way,” teruhashi introduced herself. “come on, I’ll show you where you have to be,” she grabbed your hand and lead you to your class. is she an angel?

after awkwardly introducing yourself in front of the class, sitting in front of a pink haired weirdo and having a few people stare at you, class was over! you were having a good day so far.

as you stepped out of the class, people started to quickly surround you, asking a lot of questions or admiring you way too close.. is this what it was going to be like everyday? girls giggling and squealing over you? you felt trapped and a bit flustered.

“what’s your name?” “let’s hang out some time!” “can I do your homework?” most of the girls questioned you. you should have known this would have happened, now your a frozen, awkward person in the hallway, currently getting harassed 😢

you also saw a guy with purple hair with a furious expression. he was looking at you too, is he jealous of the attention? what is wrong with this school..?

you blinked for a second, and pop! your on the rooftop! what the hell just happened, first you got actually got some girls, now there’s witches in this school? oh, there’s that pink haired weirdo that you were sitting in front of, STANDING. RIGHT. IN. FRONT. OF. YOU.

is this a dream? it totally is a dream because it’s not normal for a pink haired to kidnap you on a roof top. saiki, who was so offended after being rudely insulted as a ‘pink haired weirdo’ two times already, was already getting tired of your thoughts. just for one day, he wanted to do something nice for someone and he gets this.

“u-uh, thanks for getting me out of there,” you said, scratching the back of your head. “atleast he actually has some decency to thank me for that,” saiki thought. he nodded, turned around and started walking away.

“wait!” you called out to him. “not this again,” saiki thought as he turned around. “what’s your name?” you asked him with a gentle smile. “saiki kusuo,” he replied with a blank expression, before walking away. wow, he really didn’t want anything do to with you. but at least you gained a new friend! we’ll see..

#kusuo saiki #kusuo saiki x reader #kusuo saiki x y/n #saiki fluff #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo fluff #saiki kusuo x male!reader #saiki kusuo x reader #the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki x reader #saiki kusuo #saiki x you #saiki x y/n #saiki kusuo x you #saiki kusuo x y/n

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cosmerelists · 9 months

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Cosmere Characters! You just spilled wine on your favorite shirt--what will you do??

Navani: I will politely excuse myself and go change, of course. Why--what else would someone do?

Steris: First, I would not panic. Next, I would utter one of the jokes I had prepared in advance in case of a party faux-pas, chosen based on my level of acquaintance and relative social ranking to the witnesses. Post-joke, I would excuse myself to the washroom, use the small bottle of detergent I keep in my bag at all times, and see if the outfit can be salvaged. If not, then I would change the smallest total percentage of my outfit as possible while still removing the offending stain. Then, I can return to the party and use the re-entry-after-a-faux-pas joke, and move on.

Wayne: Can I just suck it out of my shirt?

Steris: ...

Wayne: What? Waste of good wine, that is!

Zahel: Leave it. Maybe then people will think I am some sort of messy drunk and FINALLY leave me alone.

Azure: Dab it with a napkin, deal with it later. I generally have more important things going on.

Noro (whispering): Highmarshal Azure is always so cool!!

Lightsong: I’d pretend it was on purpose to see if I can make dumping wine on your front a trend--after all, a god did it.

Blushweaver: Oh no, I guess my shirt will simply have to come off.

Szeth: I am used to being stained.

Szeth: Usually it’s blood, though. Not wine.

Nightblood: Yeah! Just cover the wine with the blood of evil-doers!

Szeth: That is not quite what I was saying, sword-nimi.

Moash: If you spend your days breaking rocks and killing gods, you don’t have to worry about trivial things like spilled wine.

Moash: And who has a favorite shirt, anyway?

Elend: I assume this is at a party, in which case, by holding a book protectively before me at all times, no one will notice!

Vin: Foolproof, really.

Elend: I know!

Elhokar: I would simply say that the wine was poisoned.

Elhokar: Not that anyone ever BELIEVES me!

Jasnah: I have not spilled wine since I was five, but I suppose that if it happened, I could simply soulcast it to smoke.

Veil: I mean--is it even really a party if you haven’t gotten sloppy drunk enough to spill?

Siri: I assume I would be immediately mobbed by servants, stripped and changed, and then that outfit would be ritually burned.

Siri: You know, a normal day.

Adolin: Oh! Oh! I know this!

Adolin: You can use vinegar to remove the stain and then wash the clothes as normal.

Shallan: Time to bury that once-favorite shirt deep, deep underground where it will never see the light of day.

Kaladin: Oooh--that’s smart. The knowledge may torment you forever, but at least it won’t bother anyone else!

Shallan: What torment? It’s buried. It’s gone. I’ve already forgotten.

Kaladin: Wow. That’s so cool--I wish I could do that.

Adolin: WHAT ARE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT?!

#cosmerelists #cosmere #Navani #Steris #Wayne #Zahel #Azure #Noro #Lightsong #Blushweaver #Szeth #Nightblood #Moash #Eledn #Vin #Elhokar #Jaznah #Veil #Siri #Adolin #Shallan #Kaladin

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ev3rgreenxtrees · 3 months

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could you write a nick x ftm!reader? something like the reader sees a bunch of hate comments about him and nick comforts him? (if not that’s totally ok)

,,My Boy’’

-N.S

Synopsis: You and Nick have been dating for a long time now, and you finally agree to be in one of the boy’s videos. Nick introduces you as his boyfriend, and the viewers find out you are trans. Some don’t respond the best to this, but Nick is there to comfort you.

pairing: bf!nick sturniolo (he/him) X trans ftm!reader (he/him)

warnings: homophobia, transphobia, panic attack, gender dysphoria, body dysphoria, cyber bullying, threats, harassment, homophobic & transphobic slurs (i promise i can say them. id never EVER say a slur i couldnt!!) and i think thats all! please let me know if i missed one <3

requested?: yes!

back to: masterlist

—FIRST PERSON POV—

After Nick constantly asking me if I was positive I don’t want to finally be in one of the triplets videos, I reluctantly agree.

I have been dating nick for around eight months, and we have kept our relationship a ‘secret’, for these past eight months, and i finally agreed to be in a video.

Matt got back into the car, shutting the door behind himself. Nick smiled at me, before speaking up.

“Welcome back, everybody! Today, we have a special guest, my boyfriend, y/n!” Nick boasts. I love how he openly called me his boyfriend, but i was worried. were his fans going to find out?

Sure they would, but would they care? probably. I passed well enough to be called a male in public, but whenever people care enough, like the Sturniolos fanbase, they will look for all my socials, and they’ll know.

A million thoughts ran through my head, but they were all cleared out once I heard Nick call my name again.

“Y/n? babe? you okay?” he asked, shaking my shoulder gently.

“hm? oh- yeah. sorry. i zoned out,” i chuckled a little. “could you repeat the question?” i asked, and nick complied.

The rest of the video went by pretty smoothly, since I was occupied with thinking deeply at all the odd questions Nick was asking us, and laughing at the out of pocket jokes from matt and chris.

We recorded for about an hour more, knowing that more than half of the footage would just be cut out in editing. Matt screeched into the camera, before shutting it off, and handing it to Nick, and starting the car.

Matt drove all of us to the triplets house, since I just stayed there often with them anyways. we walked inside, and Nick and I went up to his room to edit the video.

I caught myself giggling at the stupid jokes and the annoying bickering, but I cant lie, we’re pretty funny.

“this video has to be posted today,” Nick sighed, only a little bit into the editing. “I hate it when they wont film until the ‘night’ of. It’s 2:34 AM, and the video needs to be up by 4:30..” Nick sighed.

He looked over at me, noticing i was growing increasingly more tired.

“get some sleep, baby.” Nick smiled, kissing my forehead. I complied, before crawling into his bed, falling asleep there.

I woke up again, and it just so happened to be 5:00 PM, somehow. I always sleep throughout the whole day, so i wasn’t really surprised.

I yawned, before staying in Nick’s bed, allowing myself to wake up. I checked my phone, which normally has none to five notifications, but this time, i had well over a thousand.

My eyebrows furrowed; and i quickly shot up. I scrolled through the notifs, to see comments on my old instagram and tiktok posts,

“Awe! Nick’s boyfriend is so cute!”

|_ “replying to : @— ‘boyfriend? i thought nick was gay. this is disgusting.’”

“That’s gross. She changed her name and claimed to be a boy. Fucking gross. Grow up.”

|_ “replying to : @— ‘HE is a boy. He always has been, he just realized it, and is now brave enough to show it. let him be.’”

“Thats not even a boy💀”

“Nick could’ve done so much better and actually got himself a big strong MAN.”

“shes so ugly wth.”

“Nick needs to realize that he could do so much better than her. he needs to raise his standards because what the fuck.”

“guys, her name is y/d/n, not y/n!”

Each comment broke my heart. Sure, there were a few sweet ones, supporting nick and i, but the horrible degrading ones outweigh those by a long shot.

I felt my eyes start to water as i scrolled through the comments. I didn’t want to see them, but i couldn’t stop looking.

I felt the tears start to roll down my cheeks, as i looked through the comments.

I stopped looking through comments i was tagged in, and began looking through my instagram DM’s. Fuck. These were worse.

“kill yourself you stupid fag.”

“nick doesn’t want you, tranny.”

“kill yourself before i kill you.”

“don’t corrupt nick you disgusting freak.”

“i promise you, nick hates you.”

“why’d he pick you. he could’ve had me😂”

I let out small silent sobs, throwing my phone on the ground. I heard a pair of feet running up the stairs to Nick’s room, before the door flew open.

“shit- what happened? fuck, y/n, whats wrong?” Chris’ eyes widened as he saw the scene in front of him. My phone broken on the floor, and i was sobbing into my knees on Nick’s bed.

I nodded, and chris immediately ran by my side.

“he’s out with Matt- ill call him. im staying here with you until he gets here, okay?” he placed his hand on my back. he quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket, calling nick. i didnt understand what he said, because i wasn’t paying attention. i just need nick.

Nick. thats all i want. He’s all i need.

“hey.. please, talk to me.” Chris spoke softly, putting his phone back in his pocket. “what happened, buddy?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing, his hand never leaving my back.

Thats when i realized, i wasn’t wearing my binder. Normally, not wearing my binder at my own house, or even the triplets, doesn’t bother me, but as i read through all those comments, calling me a girl, i couldn’t help but feel disappointed in myself.

I looked down at my chest, and started crying harder. I couldn’t breathe. fuck- i’m having a panic attack.

“n-nick- i- i need n-nick!” i gasped, quickly sitting up.

“hey- hey, it’s okay. Nicks almost here, okay? I need you to take deep breaths, okay?” Chris panicked. I panted, rocking back and fourth on nicks bed.

I knew Chris was trying to help, but i needed Nick.

We heard the door bust open, and nick and matt both ran up the stairs, to me and Chris.

“baby, my baby..” Nick’s eyebrows furrowed, as he rushed to my side. He pulled me into a hug, and looked at chris as he held me. “what happened, chris?” Nick asked, trying to raise his voice, knowing it would make things worse.

“I- i dont know! I heard a bang and crying- so, i ran up here and he was crying! he wouldnt tell me anything, besides he wanted you! i- i didnt know what to do so i called you!” Chris spoke worriedly.

I looked over at matt, his jaw clenched, as he fiddled with his own hands. his eyes glossy. Matt’s dealt with his own panic attacks, and seeing someone he cared about was probably hard for him.

“i- i-m sorry-“ i stuttered out to Matt, who had a worried expression plastered on his face. he didn’t say a word. I cant hurt matt, too.

“huh? baby, what are you sorry for?” nick asked me, pulling back slightly from the hug, to look me in the eyes.

“m-matt-“ i sobbed, and nicks head snapped towards matt, who’s chest was moving rapidly, his eyes wide.

“fuck, chris, get him out of here, please. go sit with him on the couch or something- calm him down. I got y/n,” nick gestured towards matt, and chris immediatly did as he was told.

“shh, baby. i’ve got you. You’re okay.” Nick whispered, pulling me into him. i focused on the heat radiating off of his body, his vanilla scent, and the way his soft hoodie felt on my skin. My sobs slightly subsided, and i could finally think straight again.

“My love.. i love you. so much. do you want to talk about it?” Nick offered, and placed a loving kiss on my forehead, as he brushed my hair out of my face.

“your f-fans.. they called me a girl..” i sniffled, and his gaze sofened, and he looked like he was about to cry.

“you are not a girl. you never have been, and never will be. you’re my boy.” Nick sighed, placing a soft kiss to my lips.

His boy.

I’m his boy.

I WASNT SURE IF THIS WAS A GOOD ENDING OR NOT BUT IDK I THOUGHT IT WAS CUTE.

writing the dms and comments BROKE me.

@bernardenjoyer @lovely-calypso

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #fanfic #christopher sturniolo #fluff #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #angst

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deansmom · 10 months

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Everytime I point out that Dean Winchester is autistic, people get mad or look at me like I’ve spontaneously grown a second head, as if this man’s existence isn’t just checking off boxes for the diagnostic criteria

Special interests: westerns, cars, mechanical engineering stuff in general, 1960’s & 70’s music - specifically classic rock, monsters. You’re gonna look me in the eyes and tell me that it’s totally normal for someone who was born in 1979 to have borderline encyclopedic knowledge of two decades of music????? Hundreds of years of monster lore??? — for fuck’s sake, he had a train thing when he was little!!!! Those are special interests!!!!

Restricted diet: it’s mostly for Jokes but dean genuinely doesn’t eat much beyond burgers, diner food and pie.

Dean didn’t speak for months after Mary died and there’s 15 years of canon evidence where he loses his voice during moments of Big Emotions!!! He’s going nonverbal!!!!!!!

Trouble with social cues: literally look at every single instance of Dean trying to interact with strangers, ESPECIALLY in the early seasons. He’s not playing dumb, he just doesn’t get it. Also, watch any scene of this man TRYING to flirt and tell me that he’s any good at it. You know why? That bitch is mimicking the fucking movies and tv shows he grew up watching.

Sensory processing disorder: DO YOU THINK HE WEARS 87 LAYERS FOR FUN???? FOR FASHION????? WHAT DID YOU THINK ALL THE FLANNELS WERE ABOUT. THEY’RE SOFT. Also think about how much he liked the nightgown and the robe. ALSO, ALSO: school!!! It’s loud, it’s smelly, it’s dirty (his germ thing), the lights are too bright, there’s too much sensory input happening at one time. Between being so overwhelmed in school that he couldn’t focus and John pulling him left & right for cases and Sam, no wonder dean dropped out :(

14.04. The comic book episode is an ENTIRE episode about dean and his special interests!!!!!! And his social anxiety, hiding out in his room at the beginning of the episode because of all the strangers in his home 😤

Emotional regulation problems: those angry outbursts?? Destroying the Impala??? LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME THATS NOT A MELTDOWN

His whole personality is a mask! He based his whole life and personality around the men he grew up around! John, Bobby, the other hunters - we all know that dean isn’t this rugged manly man he puts on. Sure people can have layers, but my man literally wore his dad’s actual jacket for fucking years

Black & white thinking: this doesn’t need anything else tbh

Strong sense of Justice: “how many people do you have to save?” “All of ‘em. Whole wide world of sports.”

Literal thinking: half the show is about how they both have to learn to look at monsters and not immediately go “monsters bad.” Also literal thinking is hard to explain, but I promise he does this.

Hyperlexic: “what? I read?”

“Too blunt”: all those times you thought “that was kinda harsh Dean” or “wtf that was so mean” - he doesn’t like lying to people when he doesn’t have to!

Hyper empathy: “The baby in the well? My bad.” “I do my best to be brave.” Sacrificing himself for people over and over again. The djinn episode and the speech he makes in front of John’s grave. His whole life he’s been told he cares too much!!!!

As a fellow AuDHD bitch, the most AuDHD thing Dean has ever said was “we know a little about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous.” Also: “I got no idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give ‘em hell attitude, and I’ll figure it out.”

Like I could dive into the nuances of all of these and explain them in great detail and find textual evidence for basically everything, but it’s too early in the morning for that much work when I know that I’m right. Yeah he has adhd, obviously, but I will eat my left hand if that man isn’t autistic.

#why do you think him & Cas get along so well!!#hilariously I don’t necessarily agree with the hc that Cas is autistic bc he’s just an angel with no context for all these things #but he’s like Spock! allegory or whatever for autism so ofc him & dean immediately vibe #also you think Charlie was allistic?!?! be so fucking for real rn #you think an autistic lesbian would intentionally befriend a heterosexual (allegedly) neurotypical yt man??#[slams fists on the table] YOUR HONOR DEAN WINCHESTER IS A HIGH MASKING AUTISTIC AND I WILL NOT BE TAKING NOTES #personal

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keigospup · 2 years

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Fan Behavior

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Warnings: Pro Hero Deku, AFAB Reader, Degradation, Reader is an obsessed fan, Deku is just sexually frustrated, Public Sex, Public Masturbation (m), Oral (m receiving), Throatfucking, Hair Pulling

Note: All characters are 21+.

Word Count: 3K

It had really been a coincidence. A right time, right place kinda thing. It wasn’t that you had the number one Pro Hero Deku’s patrol schedule memorized. You just so happened to be going that way, taking a late-night walk to ‘clear your head’. Yeah, that was it.

It also wasn’t like you had been spamming the number one Pro Hero Deku’s Twitter with nudes and thirty minutes ago the messages were marked as read.

The cold night air fluttered through your hair as you walked, the streets were dark and empty. Crickets chirping were the only thing filling your ears. The thought of Deku possibly calling off for the day crossed your mind, but it only caused you to giggle. Deku? Calling off? He’s the number one hero, of course, he wouldn’t call off. He’s around there somewhere, you know it. Your heart thumped in your ears as you continued your search, your mind racing.

All of your friends thought you were wild, sending nudes to a Pro Hero, Deku nonetheless. The most innocent-seeming of all the Pro Heroes. But, you couldn’t help it. You had been keeping tabs on him since he first went into the spotlight. Watching him grow and flourish as a hero. He had been in the forefront of your mind for so long. So you decided to shoot your shot. Never did you think he’d actually see it though.

You had been sitting in your bedroom when you noticed it. You made checking the DMs between you and Deku a nightly routine, not only to see if he may have seen them, but to make sure he hadn’t blocked you for it. Though, you were sure plenty of other people threw themselves at him, so what made you any different than the other sea of thirsty fans?

A rustle in the brush next to you broke you out of your train of thought. Your eyes immediately darted to where the sound came from when a silhouette caught your attention.

Izuku thought this patrol would have been the same as any, and boy was he wrong. The night seemed to drone on, with absolutely no crime to be seen. He had tried his best to be diligent, keeping his eyes peeled for any suspicious activity but there was none. Not a single thing all night.

Eventually, he had had enough of walking around mindlessly, instead deciding to pull out his phone and check various social media. That’s when the idea of checking his Twitter messages. He normally paid them no mind. He loved interacting with his fans but keeping up with message after the message was absolutely too much for him. Especially when he had such little free time in the first place.

The first few messages were all sweet, doting fans telling him how much his work means to him. He quickly typed a reply to each one, thanking them for their kind words before moving on. Though, when he opened the DM from you, his breath caught in his throat. There had to have been 20 pictures in total, and 5 videos. All photos were of you either totally naked, or half-naked wearing some form of his merchandise. The videos showcasing a green vibrator inside of your cunt, the rabbit ears on the vibrator being designed to look like the hood of his hero costume. He could hear how sloppy and wet your pussy was, your angelic moans blaring freely from the speaker of his phone. He jumped slightly at the noise, rushing to turn his phone down as low as it could go with him still being able to hear you.

He could feel his palms growing clammy, his mouth going dry, and the pants of his hero suit tightening. Normally he’d never get so worked up over something like this. It wasn’t the first time one of his fans had sent him nudes. Typically he would block it and move on, but something about you. Your perfect tits, your beautiful face, the way his limited edition shirt hugged your curves just right. How sloppy and wet your pussy sounded. Your fucking voice. All of this mixed with the fact that it had been more months than he could count since he had last given himself any attention down there caused him to go absolutely wild.

His eyes scanned the entirety of his location before jumping behind some bushes, slightly hidden in an alleyway between two shops long ago closed for the night. Never in his life had he taken off his utility belt so fast, dropping it to the concrete with a loud thud. Next came the zipper of his hero costume. He silently cursed himself for how annoying he had designed his costume to be to get out of, though when it was designed, the thought of needing to jerking it in the middle of patrol didn’t exactly cross his mind.

Izuku’s hand went straight to his hardening cock, palming it through his boxers before reaching in and pulling it out. His heavy cock bobbed in the air, his fingers wrapping around its thick girth. All the while his eyes never left his phone. His breath came out shakily, softly moaning and cursing under his breath as he began to pump himself.

Your eyes focused on the silhouette in front of you, only seeing the dim light of a phone illuminating the face of the culprit. You knew that forest-colored hair anywhere.

“Deku?” You called out, walking towards the shadow of a man. This seemed to have startled Izuku, his body jumping slightly. He quickly locked his phone, dropping it in the pocket of his half-zipped hero suit. It had been too late before he could even try to tuck his cock back into his boxers. You had already closed the small distance, standing in front of him, a smile plastered on your face. “What are you-“

“G-go home, it’s too late for someone like you to be out. I-it’s dangerous,” Izuku muttered out, his chest heaving, his hand frozen around his cock. Great. This is great. The tabloids are gonna love this one, he can already see the headlines now.

“Dangerous?” You tilt your head to the side quizzically. “I don’t see anyone else out here. Just me,” Your hand reaches out, brushing against the throbbing head of his cock, a bit of precum smearing against your fingers. “And you.” Though you appeared confident on the outside, you hoped he could not tell how nervous you were on the inside. Your brain was screaming. This had always been a dream of yours, and now it’s finally coming true. You shifted slightly, feeling your slick coating your thighs under your skirt. Pro Hero Deku’s cock was right in front of you. And you touched it.

He shuttered, his hips bucking up against your hand on instinct. He really shouldn’t be doing this. Not with some stranger. And definitely not in public. But those pictures awoke something inside of him and he wanted nothing more at that moment than to cum.

Though his eyes had adjusted a bit back to the darkness, he could only really make out shapes and not details. He couldn’t even really see you, and he couldn’t tell if that made what he was about to do worse or better. You thanked whatever higher being was out there that he couldn’t see how red your face was.

“Fuck it,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. The hand not resting on his cock reached out, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you in for a heated kiss. When his lips met yours, you felt sparks. Just his touch was enough for you to moan, filling his mouth with your sweet voice. Izuku’s body stiffened a bit at the sound, his brain setting off alarms he decided to ignore. Instead of listening to his subconscious, his lips slotted in between yours perfectly, his tongue quickly swiping at your bottom lip to ask for entrance. Your mouth parted open instantly, allowing his tongue access to explore your mouth. The hand on the back of your hand tangled itself in your hair while the hand on his cock released it, grabbing your wrist and tugging your hand to replace where his hand once was.

Immediately taking the hint, you used your palm to gather up more precum from his leaky tip, spreading down his shaft. He broke the kiss with a breathy sigh, a string of saliva connecting your lips as you parted. He rested his forehead against yours, catching his breath as you continued to jerk him off. But this wasn’t nearly enough for him. He needed more.

You felt the sting of your hair being pulled before you realized what he was doing, a low moan leaving your lips at the pain as you followed the tug, settling on your knees in front of the hero. Izuku’s brain set off an alarm again and that’s when he realized who was in front of him. That moan. That voice.

“So it was you,” he spoke, looking down at you, your eyes already completely glazed over with lust. A slight smirk formed on his face. “You’re a little whore, aren’tcha? Sending me all those pictures ‘n videos.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval, his hand still laced tightly in your hair. “Got me acting up like this.”

You couldn’t even speak. Your anonymity had been blown. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t hoping that would’ve happened. That’s why you sent the videos, making sure to moan extra loud just for him.

“Lucky me, you get to take care of what you started.” He grabbed the base of his cock, tapping it against your lips. God, you were practically drooling, and it only spurred him on more. “Want my cock that bad, huh? Wanna be fucked by a Pro Hero? You gotta work for it, baby. Suck my cock like the good slut you are, won’tcha?”

Your tongue snaked out of your mouth, rubbing and wrapping against the head of his cock, the tip of your tongue teasing against the slit. Izuku’s head fell back, a soft moan leaving his lips, his hips bucking. He couldn’t take this anymore. He needed to feel you. With one quick thrust and a tug at your hair, his cock was filling your mouth. You let out a small yelp of surprise, the vibrations against him causing him to moan louder this time.

You didn’t let this disrupt you though, dead set on pleasuring him in any way you could. Your cheeks hollowed out against his cock, the hand in your hair now guiding you as you bob back and forth. Each time his cock thrust into your mouth it went deeper, testing your limits until the tip of his cock was kissing the back of your throat. You gagged and stuttered against him, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes.

“S-Such a good cocksleeve, fuck, your throat feels so good wrapped around my cock.” He stuttered out, unable to retain any composure as he continued to use your throat as his toy. Every gag sent tingles up his body, his balls threatening to empty out at any minute. The stale night air was filled with lewd noises of moans and the wet sound of your mouth.

Suddenly, Izuku had an idea. If you wanted to act like such a whore, sending him all those lewd photos, maybe you wouldn’t mind if he took some of his own. Plus, the flash on his phone would be perfect to get a good look at your fucked out face with his cock buried deep in your mouth. Hurriedly he pulled his phone out of his pocket, thanking the gods it hadn’t fallen out. His thumb was quick to type in the passcode, opening the camera to take his first photo.

It wasn’t until he saw you looking up at him through the lens of his camera, tears streaming down your puffy eyes, streaks of makeup running down your flushed cheeks, that he lost it. He pulled your hair, sinking his cock down to the hilt in your throat, and released his load, all while making sure to capture the moment. He left his heavy cock in your mouth, feeling your throat tighten around his sensitive cock in a feeble attempt at swallowing his cum before finally pulling out.

You coughed and wheezed, struggling to catch your breath in front of him. The back of your hand went up to wipe the drool that had accumulated there, your eyes peering up at Izuku. His cock was still hard, twitching in the air, a bit of your saliva dripping from the tip.

“‘M not done yet, sweetheart. Be a good slut ‘n show me how wet that cunt is.” His voice was gravely, half-lidded eyes glancing down at you. You stood, turning around to bend halfway against the brick wall in the alleyway. Pushing your ass up was enough for him to see how your slick was already dripping down your thighs, but you knew that would be enough for him. You flipped the back of your skirt up, revealing to him that all the while you had no underwear on. This causes the male behind you to groan, the flash of his camera going off. His arm extended hand grabbing and massaging the mound of flesh of your ass before his fingers slipped downward, two fingers grazing in between your folds.

“All this for me, huh?” His fingertips grazed your sensitive bud, causing you to gasp and jump. Your reaction made him smirk, causing him to repeat the motion.

“D-Deku please-“ you begged, your entire body aflame. You wanted nothing more than for him to sink himself inside of you.

“Izuku,” he whispered, leaning over your shoulder, his hot breath against your ear. “Call me Izuku, babe.” His fingers pinched your clit, a chuckle bubbling from his throat from your whine.

“Izuku,” you tested the name, carrying out the ‘u’ sound at another pinch to your clit. “Please. Need you, ‘Zuku. Need you inside.”

The nickname made his cock twitch. It sounded so beautiful coming from you.

“Such a needy baby. One taste of my cock and you’re hooked, hmm?” He grabbed the shaft of his cock, rubbing the head up and down your wet slit. Your hips moved on their own, grinding down against him like your life depended on it. Every brush over your clit felt like heaven and you didn't want it to end. Izuku’s hand grabbed your hip at a bruising pressure, stopping your movements much to your disappointment. That disappointment didn’t last long though, because he was soon lining himself up at your entrance and pushing inside.

The noise that came out of his throat was almost animalistic, your velvet walls squeezing and sucking him in as soon as he entered.

“Oh fuck,” he let out a breathy groan, pushing himself deeper inside of you until his pelvis rested against the hills of your ass. Your legs shook, the curve of his cock already perfectly set against that sweet spot inside of you. Both of his hands gripped at your hips, pulling you against him harder, leaving the side of your face the only thing resting against the brick wall to help your balance. He took a deep breath, pulling himself out almost completely before slamming back inside.

“Tell me how many times you’ve dreamed about this. How many times you’ve touched this perfect pussy at the thought of me filling you up like this.” He grunted, pulling himself out and slamming back in again.

You couldn’t even think, drunk off the pleasure. All that was coming out of your mouth were filthy moans and gasps.

“C’mon, use those big girl words.” His hands slid up your shirt and under your laced bra, grabbing and squeezing your tits before rolling your perk nipples in between his index and thumb.

“I-I,” you stuttered out, your back arching further. “E-every day, ‘Zuku. ‘M always thinkin’ about your cock, p-please-“ Your speech came out broken, gasps and moans filling the empty spaces between each word.

“Damn. Every d-day?” Izuku stuttered, his hips increasing speed.

“Yes ‘Zuku!” Your drool was now smeared between your cheek and the brick wall, mixing with the dirt and leaving brown smudges against your skin. The position was a bit painful, though you paid no mind to it. The only thing you could think about was how filled you were. You could feel the knot tightening in your stomach. Your cunt was suffocating him, twitching, throbbing, and clenching around his cock. He could tell you were close before you even had the chance to say anything.

“Cum f’me, pretty thing.” Those words were all it took to push you over the edge. With an echoed scream of his name, you came on his cock.

“F-fuck!” Izuku was close behind you, feeling his balls tighten as he pounded into you with no restraint. His hips began to stutter, his pace growing sloppy. “‘M so close, sweetheart. Your pussy feels so fuckin’ good.” His nails dug into your hips, leaving crescent-shaped indents in their place.

“Birth control! ‘M on birth control, ‘Zuku! P-please cum inside me!” Damn, how could he say no to that? Especially when you’re asking so nicely. Instead of answering, he gave one last rough thrust into you, painting your walls white with his seed.

He pulled out of you slowly, grabbing his phone once more as you struggled to catch your breath. Before you could turn around, you heard him speak.

“Pose for the camera, baby.” His fingers dipped down spreading your used folds, the flash of his camera going off once again.

When you arrived home that night, your phone had a few new notifications. All photos Izuku had taken had been sent to you through his Twitter, along with a message with his phone number.

#deku x reader #deku x fem!reader #deku smut #mha smut #izuku x y/n #deku x y/n #izuku x reader #izuku x reader smut #izuku midoria x reader #izuku midoryia x you #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoryia smut #my hero smut #my hero academia smut

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amostimprobabledream · 11 months

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Ignite Me (Homelander x Reader) Part Seven

Hi all! Sorry this chapter took a bit longer than I planned, I couldn’t get it to work past a certain point, then I tried out a different direction today when I was stuck at work and voila! Hope you enjoy! It’s a strange day when you wake up for work. Your phone is lighting up with notifications from various social media apps, mostly Casey and her friends sharing snapshots of the other night, most of them blurry or taken from odd angles, but you like a few of them anyway – they give you something to look at on your commute to work. Thankfully work has gotten easier lately – you still get occasional stares but some office drama has exploded recently, something about an intern fresh out of college screwing a married CEO with kids during a conference, so most people are busy discussing that and whether he’ll be forced to quit and who will get his job if he does. That sort of thing. It's only when you get a spare hour to go for some lunch, and since it’s a pleasant day you opt to eat it on a little grassy bank not too far from your office, that anything of note happens. Lots of other people are there too, boys skateboarding past, women on lunches with their friends, college students soaking up a bit of sun before they’re back in their dorms or libraries, businessmen in suits striding past with a phone clamped to their ear like they’re the most important people in the world. It’s so normal. It feels nice, especially since here there are so many people too absorbed in their own busy lives to notice or care who you are. You munch away happily on your lunch, brushing crumbs off your clothes every so often. That’s when your phone rings. “Hello?” you say through a mouthful of sandwich. “Hey, it’s me!” Casey. “Hey, have you recovered from the weekend?” you smirk, crossing your legs. “I’m still feeling a little delicate, but at least I can walk across a room without it tilting like I’m on a cruise ship.” Casey says, snorting. “You?” “Yeah, I’m okay. I had to get up in the middle of the night after I got home to puke, but luckily my roommate is still away so I didn’t wake anyone up.” You giggle. Casey laughs too, but it dies off and you hear her take in a breath. “Listen, this is going to sound totally weird, but…you didn’t see where Steve went, did you?” Oh, shit.

“Who?” you say, even though you know perfectly well who she means. “The guy who was tagging along with us. Danesha brought him at the last minute, I don’t really know why. Anyway, but she said he disappeared at some point, and he didn’t come back and she’s kinda worried. He hasn’t answered any of her messages.” You have no idea why Danesha cares, but you bite your lip. “Well...last time I saw him he kind of tried it on with me.” “WHAT?!” Casey shrieks down the phone, and you had the foresight to hold it away from your ear so you didn’t go deaf. “Yeah. I didn’t tell you at the time because I just wanted to go home and not make a scene, but I went outside because I felt sick and needed some air and Steve came out and tried to kiss me. I told him to fuck off and went back indoors. I didn’t see him follow me back in so many he stormed off in a bitchfit or something?” “Jesus, what a fucking creep!” Casey declares. “Lucy told me he tried it on with her as well and you saw how out of it she was. Ugh. He probably heard Danesha was going and invited himself along because he was looking to get laid.” You snort, flicking away an ant that was crawling up your leg. “Yeah, fat chance of that happening.” “Exactly!” Casey says, and you feel a rush of affection for her, especially since she’s not annoyed you didn’t tell her about Steve at the time. “I’ll tell Danesha and hopefully she’ll realise he’s not worth thinking about. Listen, I’ve got to go but we’ll talk again soon, okay?” “Okay, see you.” You hang up and stare at your phone, and the vindication you felt after your knee-jerk dislike for Steve is only strengthened. What an asshole. You don’t notice it at the time, but although most people in the park don’t look up as you cross the grass to toss away your wrappers, a figure stands apart from the crowd, watching you from behind dark sunglasses. When you glance back to make sure you didn’t leave anything, he’s already gone. ~ When you unlock the door and enter your apartment with a sigh, tossing your keys into a little bowl by the door, which slams shut behind you, you’re about ready to just fall face-down on your bed and not get up for hours. The commute home was hell. Hot, stuffy hell with someone’s baby continuously wailing somewhere and a creepy guy muttering to himself. But unfortunately, your beckoning bed will have to wait. “Hey there. Long time no see.” Your heart jolts in your chest. Lifting your eyes, your body stiffens at the sight awaiting you. Homelander. He stands leaning against the back of the couch, legs straight, his posture deceptively casual, arms loosely folded at his chest. It’s impossible to tell how long he’s been standing there – he could have arrived seconds before you or he could have been watching your entire journey home, from you appearing around the corner onto your street, to riding the elevator up to your floor. Your eyes dart to the balcony door, which is shut, but dimly you acknowledge he’s probably busted the lock to get in and now you’re going to have to ask the landlord to fix it. Great. The silence lingers like fog, and you clear your throat. "What are you doing here?" you say, and there’s a note of accusation that creeps out. Homelander's eyebrows go up and he tilts his head. He clearly isn't a fan of your tone, but you're not a fan of him casually breaking into your flat either. "You left without saying goodbye." he replies, and though his tone is even, the air seems heavy with an unseen current, like the lick of static before a storm. He angles his shoulder towards you, like a bird puffing out its plumage to look bigger. It’s a subtle change, so much so that if you weren’t hyperaware of every little move he makes, you might have missed it. "Yeah, well, I didn't want to hold you up." you reply, flatly. Going to your room to change out of your work clothes obviously isn't an option and you can detect some subtle mockery in Homelander's gaze as it travels up and down your body. No doubt he isn't very impressed by your affordable, lowkey corporate attire when he’s surrounded by people who treat designed clothes like they fished them out of a bargain bin and something in you bristles at the condescension in his gaze. Excuse ME if I don’t make the same salary as the drones who work at Vought. You think, lips narrowing in anger. Instead of hiding in your room like you’d prefer to do, you dump your bag on the ground since it was making you slouch and head straight for the kitchen area. Your heart is thumping as you pull a chilled bottle of booze out of the fridge and pour yourself a big glass of it, because you're sure you're going to need it for this conversation. You pointedly don't offer Homelander anything. Homelander clicks his tongue and pushes himself off the sofa, and you feel rather than hear him getting closer to you - for a man with such a large presence, he can move eerily quietly when he wants to. You stand with your back to him, gulping down chilly liquor. More silence ticks by – he’s clearly waiting for you to scramble to fill it like you did last time he visited unannounced, but when you say nothing, he decides to cut to the chase. "What? You pouting because of before?" he mocks, and the jeer in his voice is unmistakable - it launches you immediately to the popular boys at school who'd point at girls and loudly proclaim if they had a zit or toilet paper on her shoe. It's a little unnerving how closely he nails the tone, considering you're pretty sure he never went to school. Where did you learn that? Probably an interview being played in a waiting room somewhere. “Huh. But you didn’t mind showing up when Vought gave you the big bucks, did you?” You’re so not in the mood for this. You set the glass down on the counter with a definitive click. “What’s the problem?” you say impatiently, turning around, though you’re careful not to say your problem, even though it clearly is – Vought hasn’t contacted you once since you told Ashley to leave you alone. You’d hoped they’d forgotten about you, and maybe they have, but not Homelander. No, he seems to feel the connection between you, transient though it was, fraying, and he can’t resist pulling on the rope to see if there’s still anything left there for him to reel you back in. You just don’t understand why. “I did the stupid interview you wanted, even though I told you I didn’t want to do it, you got your precious ratings and now you’re even more popular than ever. Congratulations.” His lips thin out and he prowls closer, purposefully invading your space. You want to back away, but you force yourself to stay rooted to the ground – this is your goddamn home, and you won’t let him bully you from pillar to post. “I don’t appreciate your tone, missy.” He hisses and you’d almost laugh at the reprimand – missy? – but his expression chills you. Somehow him speaking calmly is even worse than him shouting. “I don’t understand why you’re here.” You say, folding your arms. “My part in all this is over, it’s done. If you’re here to tell me Vought want me to do another interview, the answer is no.” Homelander scoffs, his head giving a jerky little shake, and when he sees you’re completely serious, his disbelief only seems to grow. You figure that ‘no’ is probably not a word that his highness is accustomed to hearing, especially not from someone like you. “You- are you kidding me?” he says, exasperatedly. His lip quirks like he’s trying to decide whether or not to smile. “What was so hard about doing an interview that you just fuck off and don’t say anything to anyone? Jesus Christ, you got paid for your time, didn’t you? You agreed to do it. Then just as it’s going somewhere, well, now you’re hiding out here, going back to your shitty little office job and that’s it? Fucking really?” Outrage makes your spine stiffen – how dare he act like you’re being unreasonable? You didn’t want to do the goddamn fucking interview in the first place, and you know he knows that – he coerced you, made it sound like it would be the final chapter on this whole affair, but instead you just felt exploited and used and Homelander let you know just how insignificant he found you, how little he cared about your feelings. You were a means to an end to him. Now he’s here trying to guilt you about it? Fuck that. “Do you think I like talking about that day over and over again?” you demand, frustration surging through you. Your voice gets louder and louder with each word, but once you got going, you can’t stop. It’s like a plane gaining altitude as it soars down a runway. “Do you think all I want people to know or care about me is that I went viral for kissing you? The fact I nearly fucking died doesn’t seem to matter to anyone else, they’re just in it for the fucking memes! Well, it matters to me! I still dream about that day, you know. I wake up in cold sweats that hey, I got fucking shot just walking down the street! I have an ugly fucking scar on my stomach that is never, ever going to completely go away. People whisper and stare at me whenever I go anywhere, I had to change my hair just so people wouldn’t immediately recognise me from the internet! It’s only just started to calm down to the point I’m not looking over my shoulder all the time in case somebody realises it’s me. But nobody gives a shit about that, do they? Nooo - all they want me to talk about is you. Your big, heroic day.” He looks like he doesn’t understand why that could possibly be considered an issue, and he throws his hands up in exasperation. "I saved your life!" he barks at you. "That doesn't mean you own it!" An expression flits over Homelander’s face, too fast for you to properly discern what it is – anger? Shock? Perhaps even…despair? The next moment his hand shoots out and he seizes you by the throat. Instantly, your anger bursts like a balloon to be replaced by a wave of sheer fear. His thumb presses against your windpipe and, just for a second, cuts off your air supply. You make a wheezy, botched attempt at a gasp. He’s never done this before. You know how strong he is – everyone knows it. He strikes terror in the heart of criminals everywhere just from a glimpse of his shadow. Homelander watches you squirm in his grip and his expression is detached. Almost bored. But the terrifying thing isn't that Homelander is holding you still just by his grip on your neck, the leather of his gloves cool against your flushed skin. Nor is it that both of you know that he could crush your throat, and nobody would be any the wiser that he was responsible. No, the terrifying thing is that despite the fact you're having to push yourself up onto your tiptoes just to get some air, that his fingers feel less like flesh and bone and more like steel - you know that he's not really trying. This terrifying show of strength that has rendered you powerless is merely a demonstration. A warning of what to expect if you don't watch your mouth. The moment stretches between the both of you for an eternity. You become hyperaware of your heartbeat, of your own shaky breathing. It never occurred to you until now that he might hurt you. That may seem naïve, but Homelander is meant to be a superhero. He saves people. Protects America from any threat that may come its way. He’s the first thing people think of when you say the word ‘Supe’ – him taking a missile to his broad chest, holding a bus of screaming passengers overheard when it’s about to plunge off a bridge, him waving to a crowd of adoring fans. America is spoon-fed these images of Vought’s handpicked heroes saving civilians, every single day. And he’s their ultimate trump card, the ace up their sleeve for when the chips or down or viewers are getting bored. If the Seven are gemstones, Homelander’s a diamond. And now the jewel in their crown has his fingers around your neck. Homelander himself looks slightly surprised, like he doesn’t quite know what to do next. Grabbing hold of you seems an action of pure impulse, a knee-jerk act of anger at your sudden aversion to him when you had been so compliant before. It seems both of you are learning distasteful personality traits in the other person today. “Heh.” He gives a bitten-off little laugh and lets you go, though his arm still hovers near you like he isn’t sure if he wants to push you away or grab you again. He blinks once, slowly, eyelashes flickering like insect wings. “Almost lost my temper there.” You stare at him and even though his grip on your throat wasn’t hard enough hurt, you can feel a well of hopelessness overflowing inside your chest, like it’s being filled to the brim with cold water. You’re scared. You’re scared and you don’t know what to do. You can’t run from him, and you can’t hide. You don’t even know why he’s pissed off, not really. He could rescue someone else and write a Vought storybook romance with them if he wanted to – but he’s here, needling you, trying to get something out of you that you don’t understand. And since you can’t do anything else, there’s only one thing left you can think of. “What do you want from me?” you ask, and it comes out so plaintive and sad, like a child’s voice. Despite all the frustration and anger and confusion…you suddenly feel like any moment you might start crying. And you don’t want to be that person, someone who bursts into tears because some guy yelled at them. But therein lies the problem, doesn’t it? Because Homelander isn’t just some guy. Not at all. He says nothing, and when you look at his expression, you’re shocked. His mouth is downturned, lips pressed against each other as he gazes at you. He looks so melancholy. It’s like your question has infected him with your misery and confusion and he’s reflecting it back at you. It seems astonishing to you that Homelander doesn’t seem to know the answer to the question himself – he came here to provoke you, to get some kind of a response, and then when he got one, he didn’t know how to react. Perhaps this is new territory for him, unused to navigating complicated social interactions without a teleprompter or an earpiece feeding him lines to say. Perhaps that’s why he keeps coming back to you, because you’re one of the only things in his life that isn’t part of a script. “I…” Homelander says, like he’s trying to remember something, his voice quiet but rough. “I want…” You have never heard him hesitate. Whenever he’s on TV, he always sounds confident and decisive. Just like the leader of the Seven should be. True, most of the things he says are generic platitudes, all with that shiny Vought coating, but now he sounds so…lost. Far from finding this comforting, proof he is a human under that suit after all, you find it unnerving. Men like Homelander don’t let their walls down easily and you don’t want to know how he’ll react if he decides to blame it on you. Even if you never fucking asked to see him like this. Or at all. A gloved hand suddenly curves around your head, and you stiffen reflexively, but all he does is pull you to him, slowly, mindful of that monstrous strength of his, and soon you understand what he’s doing- Homelander is fucking hugging you. His hand cups the back of your head, cradling your skull in his palm and his other hand slips around your back. You hate to admit it, but there’s no denying it – he’s warm and with the padding of the suit it’s all too easy to relax in his grip, even though your instinct is to be wary. You move as carefully as he does, as if you could possibly do anything to break him, but you’re feeling as tentative as he is. It’s the most bizarre thing – was all he really wanted under all his posturing a hug? Is he truly this incapable of voicing his own needs? Cautiously, because you get the sense he wants it, you rest a hand on his bicep and make an awkward rubbing motion in an attempt to be soothing. You’re sure it’s probably not all that effective, you’ve never been a naturally comforting or maternal person, but he seems to appreciate your attempts at it because he squeezes you a little (but not too tightly – even now, you must admit his control over his powers is incredible) and he rests his chin atop your head. You feel his chest expand and you’re not stupid, you know what he’s doing – he’s smelling your hair, breathing in the vague hint of flowers from your shampoo and though it’s intensely weird for Homelander to be fucking sniffing you like a wolf, it’s not as bad as everything else he’s done so far so you let it pass without comment. You stand that way for a little while, soaking in the sudden calm. It’s like walking out into the rain after a storm, and the words slip unbidden from your mouth. “You know,” you say, because something has occurred to you. A little slip of the tongue from when he ranted at you during that goddamn interview – the words had lodged in your brain despite your efforts to ignore them – it didn’t strike you as important at the time, but now it’s nudging you like a thorn in your side. But He said: “Like you have the slightest fucking idea of how hard it really is, doing this bullshit all the time.” Was it possible Homelander was jealous that you could ask for a break, and he couldn’t? That when you were overwhelmed, you didn’t keep quiet about it, that you expressed when something wasn’t what you signed on for. Homelander may be the powerful one…but what about when he doesn’t want to do something? Does he have a choice? Does anybody ever ask him at Vought if he needs a break? He hums to let you know he’s listening, a nudge for you to finish what you started. So, you do. “If you…if needed a rest for a little while, you can crash here. If you want to.” There’s a pause and you can almost see him weighing his options. He looks at you from beneath half-lidded eyes. Then he nods, just once. “Okay.” The response is so mild it takes you aback, but you still carefully step back out of his grip and lead the way to your room, even as a little voice in your head screams What are you doing?! What the fuck are you doing?! You have no idea what you’re doing, except that you’ve manage to defuse the situation and you’re just going with it. Homelander follows you without a word of complaint – he doesn’t even make any smartass comments about how messy your room is, with clothes all over the floor and a teetering stack of books on the table beside your bed. At least you remembered to make your bed this morning. You turn to leave – maybe go and buy some stronger alcohol or jump into a nearby river or something, but his fingers lock around your wrist. You look up at him and he’s not looking at you, instead you’re treated to the sight of his side-profile, the sharp jawline and unfairly long eyelashes. He stares at the bed, a set of fairy lights you strung up around the headboard twinkling invitingly. “Stay with me.” He says, but it’s not a command as you’d expect. It’s almost a question. You sigh slowly, but truth be told, you’re tired as well. So tired that it seems easier to just acquiesce than to fight him. And there’s something hopeful in his expression that gives you pause. “Okay,” you say, but hurry to add sternly, “But just sleeping, understand? Nothing else.” It's absurd –someone like you is giving Homelander orders now? Well, it is your bedroom. Homelander accepts this with an eyeroll and a terse nod, like he’s irritated you even felt the need to say it. Well, at least you know his personality hasn’t done a complete one-eighty. You’re not going to nap in your work clothes, so you stoop to grab a pair of sweats and a tank top from a pile of clothes on a chair that are all clean but still need to be ironed. The pile has been sitting there for a couple of weeks now, getting bigger and bigger. You slip into the bathroom to change, shutting the door firmly behind you, even though it’s a symbolic gesture at best – if Homelander wants to watch you strip down to your bra and panties, all he has to do is turn his X-ray vision on and you can’t really do anything about it. You just hope he’s too tired to give a shit. When you emerge, he’s perched on the end of your bed. His boots, gloves and belt are gone but the cape is still on. You eye the eagle epaulettes, which do not look comfortable at all, but you’re not going to waste your breath offering him any of your clothes to sleep in. You’re not his mommy and you know he'd only say no. There are too many strange lines being crossed right now without the confusion of undressing around each other. He looks up at you and holds out a hand. “C’mere.” He nearly whispers it. Feeling like you’re in a dream, you approach Homelander, and his fingers curl around yours. Touching Homelander’s hand seems a strangely intimate thing to do, like you’re both in some sort of period drama. He turns and pulls you down onto the bed with him. His touch is gentle, so you sink down onto the blanket with him. Somehow, you don’t need to speak to each other to settle on a position – you turn around because staring into his face seems too intense for the moment, and Homelander is at your back in an instant, arms wrapped tightly around you like he never wants to let you go. You don’t know how you manage to fall asleep, but before you know it, the room has floated away, with Homelander’s arms as your only anchor.

#homelander x reader #The Boys (2019)#The Boys x Reader #Fanfiction #Writings #Homelander x You

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yourmomni · 1 year

Text

Crush-1

Word count: 2k

Summary: y/n is just trying to get through life and university without making any humanly contact with other people minus her bestfriends and her protective sister but what happened when the soccer captain falls head over heels for her and develops a crush on her

Jake soccer x femreader

A/n: chapter 2 🥰

The library was extra quiet today making it easier to study and grab any books I wanted. Some may call me an overachiever but I just like to get things done and correct the first time so if that means studying until the late am's and not having a social life then so be it.

"Y/N I've been looking for you everywhere, come on the place closes at 8." I pushed my glasses up " Okay okay one more page." My sister snatched the book from me then closed it. " no more pages now let's go." She grabbed my arm dragging me out of my seat. My sister Amilla was the spitting image of our mother with her soft brown skin, a mole under her eye and her almond shaped eyes. The only difference was the under strands of her hair being dyed a now faded pink.

It was your sophomore year in college and your sister's senior year in university. She dragged you out of the library with your protest falling on deaf ears. She finally let you go as you both continued walking with your tote bag hanging over your shoulder. "You could've at least let me put my books away." I grumbled she shrugged me off and we cut across the grass. "Sorry it's just I want a good seat and I wanna try their new drink in the menu."

You smiled to yourself knowing her real reason for wanting to go to the Cafe. " yeah sure it's totally not because of the new barista that works there." She faltered a little but went back to her same pace. " I have no idea who you're talking about." I caught up to her. " yes you do what his name again Jay." She pushed me away but not before smiling. "Stopppp." I giggled. In my eyes Amilla was the most beautifulest person in the world to me. She could blink once and all the men in the world would fall to their knees and worship her.But she never gave them the day until Jay

On our breaks before class started we usually would get pick me up from the Cafe across campus that was a hot spot for all the other students as well. Me and Amilla were walking to our usual table when we notice it needed to be clean off

" oh let me go find someone to clean that off for you ladies." The older lady who owned the Cafe said we thanked her. " hey I'm gonna go order our drinks." I said leaving her alone. She nodded and went on her phone. " Sorry for the mess." " oh it's fine." She looked up from her phone and was met with a handsome boy whipping down her table. Not the normal guy who usually did. He had black hair and it was parted through the middle and two hoop earrings in his ear. Handsome was a understatement. He finished cleaning and turned towards her his breath hitched but he caught himself before she noticed.

"Hi, you must be new." He nodded "yeah new." She smiled at him. " I mean yes I'm new today is my first day." Amilla reached her hand out " well nice to meet you I'm Amilla ." He went for her hand but immediately retracted it back, wiping it on his apron. " I'm sorry, before this I was baking in the back with my hands all dirty. I wouldn't wanna get you all messy." He rambled on. " I'm Jay by the way." I nodded. God he was cute. I mentally slapped myself

Amilla remembered what mom said " men are the devil in disguise waiting to ruin your life and take everything you've worked for." maybe she was being a little dramatic after your parents divorce but she always raised us to be independent and never depend on anyone else

"Jay I need you back here." " Coming." He yelled back. " I um gotta go ill see you around." He walked away disappearing in the back." Yeah totally later." The smile wouldn't disappear from her face. " who was that." I asked, raising my eyebrows. She took her drink. " Just the new guy, his name is jay."

Amilla shoved my shoulder when I reminded her of the time she and Jay met. " Okay I admit he is kinda cute-" I squealed" but that doesn't mean anything. It's normal to find people attractive." I scoffed. "Yeah but not for you." As I was talking to her I had a weird feeling someone was staring at me. But I shrugged it off. I was never the type of girl to get compliments from guys or have them drool over me. I always kept to myself socializing only when needed. Despite all that I still had friends but they always were the complete opposite of me. Outgoing party people while I just enjoyed reading and staying In all day. No one was interested in me or so I thought

" Wow." Jake said stopping in his tracks watching the prettiest girl walk past he admired her side profile and gasped when she turned her head to face him without looking at him. " Hey bro, who is that?" He tapped Heeseung's chest. Heesueng looked up from his phone. " Who Amilla?" Jake shook his head. " no the girl beside her." " That's Y/n her little sister." Jake smirked. " Y/n." He started walking towards her " hey woah woah." Heeseung grabbed his arm. " Where are you going? We have class."

"I'm going to go talk to her." He said removing his hand. "Jake be careful not many people talk to her and I heard her sister is really protective ." Jake looked towards the gìrl again. if he was in a cartoon hearts would have been flying above his head " what is she going to do kill me." Heeseung sighed and jake jogged off before heesung could interject again

Your sister was telling you how much she needed coffee when a boy stood in front of you blocking your way. " Hi." He said look at us. " um hi can we help you." The tone in my sister's voice turned dark causing me to get a little nervous.``yes you can actually." He looked at me and I jumped a little. " Hi My name is Jake." He extended his hand out to me and I just stared at it

My sister was watching me in confusion. I took his hand and shook it." Nice to meet you I'm Y/n." He smiled " yeah I know." My eyes widened " you know who I am." Now I was the one confused and my sister was watching us in amusement. " Yes I've been watching you for some time you read in the bleachers while I have practice." I heard my sister scoff and she got in front of me.

"Yeah she's not interested." I looked at her in shock. " I'm not?" He raised his eyebrows `` I don't understand." "Well I do." She started walking towards him now I was completely behind her " You don't know my sister nor have you seen her around. She spends most of her time in the library or in her dorm, she doesn't have any friends-" I interrupted " I have Jeno." " He doesn't count. Anyways" she is closer to him " I know boys like you. Boys who think it's funny to mess with the quiet girl , you mess with their heads making them targets for your little '' fan girls'' to push around and abuse making them feel bad about themselves. It's pathetic and under my watch you will not do it to my sister come on y/n." She grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the boy I looked back at him to see him waving with a sad smile and I waves back

" Aw he was cute." I pouted and she dragged me all the way to the Cafe in silence ordering our drinks and sitting down " why wouldn't you let me talk to jake." I stirred my tea " because he's a fuckboy who wants nothing but to ruin you." I frowned. "He seemed nice. And I do read on the bleachers during soccer. Maybe he has really seen me." My sister groaned " Y/n open your eyes Jake's-" " What about sim jake." Jeno slide in beside me pushing me to the side." Hello Jeno, how nice of you to show up." I said, rolling my eyes at him. Jeno smiled widely, making me push his face away. `` he was trying to talk to y/n."" he what, when." He asked frantically, shaking my arm. Just then Amillas' order came and Jay sat it down in front of her. " Here Milla, I hope you enjoy it. I made it just the way you like it, extra sweet." He winked and walked away. I squealed, " I made it extra sweet just like you." Jeno copied his voice and I giggled

" did he call you Milla." She was smiling hard trying to look away from me " You do like him." She shushed me tossing a napkin at me " Okay fine maybe just a little though." Jeno shrugged. " He's on the soccer team with me, he's pretty cool, he hangs out with the captain mostly . Speaking of the captain, why were you talking about jake." Amilla rolled her eyes " He tried picking up your bestfriend that's what happened and I shut him down immediately." Jeno gasped ." Why the hell would you do that he's nice." I looked at her." Because she thinks I can't take care of myself." You can't." She bluntly replied I looked at her and gasped " what yes I can right Jeno." He looked away from me like he was reading the back of my cup. I slapped his shoulder." Y/n you can barely cook, I have to remind you to go to sleep most night because you stay up studying till the late nights and you get lost everywhere you go." I crossed my arms. " I get confused sometimes." She sighed " I'm just looking out for you, you've never had a boyfriend before-" " yes I have" "Jeno doesn't count." I pouted " it was like for 4 days and you both couldn't stand each other." I silently agreed with her but jeno stayed silent.

"Just give him a chance please." Amilla didn't even look at her sister's pleading face; she immediately declined it ." Not gonna happen."

After lunch at the Cafe I said bye to my sister and walked to my last class of the day while she went home to finish her paper. I took my glasses off and put them in the case dropping them in my tote.

"HEY WATCH OUT." I turned around one second and the next I was on the ground with something heavy on top of me." Ow." I groaned. " shit shit shit y/n I'm so sorry." Jake was looking down at me frantic. He quickly got up and grabbed my hand. " Are you ok?" I dusted my skirt off and noticed my knee was bleeding." Yeah I'm fine just a scratch." He started putting everything back into my bag while rambling on about how sorry he was.

With him on the ground I finally got a better look at him and his features. He was handsome, really handsome. " Your Australian right." I mentally slapped myself, talking to people is not my strong suit. He smiled up at me. " Yeah I'm an international student here but I'm korean so that's why they put me in the korean dorms." I nodded silently proud of my self for starting a conversation. " soooo um I heard that your on the soccer team well you kind of told me and other people told me also." I rambled on he nodded. " So you've been talking about to other people about me, it's good to know I left a good impression on you. I thought I messed up." He stood up handing me my bag. I thanked him. " Yeah sorry about my sister she's really-" "protective." He finished. I nodded. "Yeah but I thought you were sweet." He smiled " oh really." I looked away at him so he wouldn't see me smile.

" Yeah not many people talk to me especially to flirt." I looked back at him and he was looking at me with so much endearment. "I-i-." I couldn’t figure out the words to say with him staring at me like that. No one has ever looked at me the way he was.." your the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." He blurted out I didn't know how to react but jake seemed shocked at his words." I mean…..wait what am I saying… I didn't mean that well I did mean that you are beautiful." My brain was overflowing with signals to run and get away from this hazard as fast as I could. I've never experienced a feeling like this. My stomach started bubbling and I felt light. Was this what having a crush feels like.

Jake continued to ramble on and didn't stop until I told him too "I get it it's okay." He shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket and started fiddling with his fingers. If his friends could see him now. THE Jake Sim stuttering in front of a girl. That was rare. He was known for his handsome features and charming personality which meant that every girl at the university had a crush on him. "I think you're pretty handsome yourself." He smiled. The noon clock ringed bringing me back to reality "oh nooo I'm late for lecture." I pulled my phone out to check if the clock was maybe going too fast. " you have psych right I'll walk you I'm going the same way I have bio in the building over I'm late for class aswell." I nodded and we walked together. We started talking about the soccer team and their next game. "I didn't know you liked soccer have you gone to any games." I nodded, smiling." Yeah my best friend jeno is on the team.

He bit the inside of his cheek. " Wait your friends with jeno." He looked concerned." Yeah since we were kids." We made it to my class and I bowed. " thank you for walking me to class." He bowed to me." Thank you for letting me and I'm sorry about your leg." I looked down at the dry blood on my knee. " it's okay I have a first aide in my tote." I rambled in my tote and noticed my glasses broke. "Dang it." I pulled them out watching the arm fall off and looking at the shattered lens. " I'll buy you new ones." He winced expecting them with me." No it's fine I can just call my dad to tell him-" he took them out of my hand and shoved them in his pocket. "no it's okay plus gives me an excuse to see you again." He bit his lip smiling at me. " oh you want to see me again? Well okay then." I felt like my legs were going to give out

"Okay well bye." He waved and I waved back " bye." I turned around and entered my class later than I've ever had. Jake watched her walk into the classroom smiling to himself. He was skipping in his head like a little boy and walked back to the boys who were still kicking around the soccer ball on the grass. " hyung where did you go?" Sunoo asked adding jake back into the game by sending him the ball. " Sunoo didn't you see he was talking to a girl." Sunghoon said wiggling his eyebrows at jake. " well he sorta ran into her he was just being polite." Jake went behind sunghoon and kicked the ball between his legs causing him to falter a little. " Or he was getting himself a date for the party coming up." Jay kicked the ball causing it to intercept. Jake walked to heeseung putting his arm around him. " I already told you guys I'm not going to that party and plus y/n not like those other girls I talked to in the past she's sweet and caring." The boys ohhhed " oh so her names is y/n huh." Jay poked . " I have class with her she sits in the front, she's really smart." Sunoo picked up the ball running to where the boys were circled

" Yeah she is… I was thinking about asking her on a date." They gasped. " Jake Sim going on a date Woah." Jake felt his ears turn read as he continued to tell his plan to his brothers. " Go for it dude." Heeseung said, patting him on the shoulder. " All non classes end at 3 so you can wait for her then drop the question." Jake beamed today would be jake sim history. The first time jake will ask a girl out and actually care if she says no.

#black reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #black reader x kpop #enhypen jake #enhypen jay #jakesim x black reader #jake sim #jay park #fluff #enhypen x reader

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danandphilnews · 2 years

Text

First half of 'We're All Doomed' stage show, transcribed

Spoiler alert!

[source]

Warning, if you accidentally clicked this: FULL SPOILERS for Dan's We're All Doomed tour! This is your chance to back out now.

Thank you to Jane for providing audio and to Cal and Keelin for help transcribing!

[Dan over speaker] hello and welcome to doomed radio. I’m your host DJ Dan here bringing you the soundtrack to the apocalypse here at the end of the world tour. I’m here with a very important message that photography, video, and audio recording is strictly prohibited so if you’ve got your phones out during the show someone that works at the theater will dropkick you and rob your device. We kindly ask for your cooperation. Now it’s time to drop some bangers. See you soon.

[plays dan’s diss track] [plays tour playlist]

Dan singing: Everything's fine, totally fine I hop out of bed and brush my teeth Make some toast or maybe muesli Fine, everything's fine [doorbell] Oh, who's that? It's my neighbor Valerie - I love people! Lookin' out the window while the tea is brewin' The bees are a'buzzin and the pigeons are a'cooin It must be a sign that nothing's out of line Because everything is fine... For you and you and you and you and you And you and you and you and you- [Dan. Daniel. Are you having another breakdown?] Everything's fine, everything's fine! La la la la la la la [He's lost it.] I love to sing- [You're spiraling. How long has it been since you've spoke to your therapist?] I'm fine. [You have clinical depression.] I'm going online! Hello, internet. [Really?] So much respect and intersectionality [Bullshit] All I see is rainbows- [It's time to stop pretending. You're clearly in denial. The world is literally ending] Yes, everything is swell, it's going terribly well [There’s drought, there’s war,??? self destruct, the ocean's on fire, we are literally fuc-] FINE, yes everything is fine For you and you [Dan, you have social anxiety and hate people.] It's fine. [Tigers are going extinct. Seagulls dying in oil on the beach.] It's fine. [Alexa is listening, plotting to kill you in your sleep. What are you going to do about the climate emergency?] SHUT UP! Everything's fine, totally fine Everything's in perfect harmony [*something*] DANCE BREAK It's fine, it's fine, it's fine fine fine It's fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine

[Dan. Come on. The world has got problems. You have got problems. Everyone here can see that. *something* deal with issues. It might be uncomfortable, like that time you pretend to love boobs for twenty-eight years. The truth is always here in the back of your mind. Dan, you need to be honest. What do you really think?]

WE'RE ALL DOOMED.

Are you happy? We're totally screwed. We are facing the destruction of our planet. Society is being ripped apart, if we do not kill each other first we're going to get nuked or a giant meteor is going to obliterate us while we sleep. What is the point in making it through our pointless little lives if anything we do has any meaning? When there is no point, no reason, no bloody hope at all.

[Well, that was a bit dramatic.] Seriously. [When I said be honest, I didn’t mean go all the way in the other direction and have a total melt.] You know what? I hate you. [Well, I don't particularly like you either.] I AM YOU. [And that's why we're in therapy.]

It's okay. It's okay. Bring it back. Start small. Just be a normal guy, doing a normal show. Look - there's your audience. Why don't you say something to them? Ask how they're doing? Crack off some regional banter? Joke about the weather! No, not the weather, actually. It’s burning us all to death. Just say hello.

INTRO HELLO, IPSWICH! Yes, I am Dan, I am doing a show. That’s why I’m here, that is what is happening. People of Ipswich, how are you tonight? [happy screams] Liars. Ooh, happy screaming. You can’t try that shit with me. I’ve got xray goggles for fear and anxiety, okay. That’s alright. I’m happy to go along with the lies. That’s why you’re all here, yeah? To leave our problems at the back of the doors and hope that at no point I leave a long enough silence for the intrusive thoughts in the back of your head to pop up and remind you of the one thing you’re trying not to think about right now.

I wouldn’t do that to you guys! Come on, really. I’ll distract your mind, it’s fine. Fill the voice with noise. Blah blah blah, blah blah. Look, we’ve got some lights. Here’s a funky sound! Ooh, it’s a picture of a dog. Wow, listen. I’m making jokes. Airplane food, am I right? Clean up in aisle two. That’s what she said. There we go, all your problems are gone, death isn’t inevitable, and we are gonna have one good night!

Okay guys - this is serious. This is an affirmation. All of you here are just gonna have one good night. [audience screams] Hell yeah. Now I’m sure what you’re wondering is - if we’re here to have a good night, why am I doing a show called We’re All Doomed? Valid. Mainly I just thought it would be really funny to scare the shit out of people walking past the theater when they see this. *something*, Mamma Mia, Mary Poppins, We’re All Doomed?! [screams]

We have a poster. It’s very tacky and pleasant. That’s just a jump scare for people at the bus stop isn’t it? Who is this very extremely tall child wearing a sandwich board looking like a creepy preacher from a town central/extra in a Kanye music video. Hi, it me. The branding is mainly black, obviously, because I’m a fucking emo. I’m one of those people that only wears black. So philosophical and fashionable, yeah. More like a performative acceptance of the darkness in me, so I can procrastinate any kind of emotional feeling that might be required *something* you know what I’m saying. But I look cool, yeah?!

But to be fair. There is a pop of color in there, the accent of orange just for contrast. As so many of you so helpfully pointed out, it’s literally the Pornhub logo. [audience cheers] *something* But it is too late, okay. We’ve printed the merch, the posters are up, get over it, okay. Get over it. To be fair I think we could have had the tour sponsored by Grindr, that’s a missed opportunity. Could have had a themed segment where I react to strangely toxic men telling me that my facial structure is too effeminate. Reporting me for not sending him feet pics. Or reporting me for catfishing as Dan Howell - which has happened, by the way. People have tried to catfish using my pictures. Don’t know what they’re thinking, should I be Timothy Chalamet, Troye Sivan… no, no. I need someone believably sad, lonely, and horny: Dan Howell. They gotta be careful. I don’t know who they’re gonna get nibbling on that line, but some of these fuckers are crazy.

We’re All Doomed is not just for the memes on the screens, though. This is a tour that I felt I had to go on to get out of the house and out of my head. It’s a show about the thoughts that are lurking and swirling in my mind. I want to be honest with you guys, do that uncomfortable oversharing thing. I am not just here to talk about having a weird crush on Tony the Tiger, okay. What, you don’t see it? He could throw you across the room with those arms. And cover you in frosting, rwar.

If I did a show about all the reasons why I’m stressed at humanity’s doom, then all of my problems become your problems. You know how they say a problem shared is a problem halved? Well there’s like a thousand people here right now. Forget halving, I am decimating this bitch. Literally and now a tiny piece of my problem is inside all you. [audience reacts] Don’t act like that.

Now, the problem when all the world is such a dystopian nightmare is where to begin. But our mission for tonight, therefore, is to look at all the ways in which humanity might be irrevocably fucked. And who knows, maybe you will find something to be hopeful for the future. And if not, at least we will have had one good night before we all go up in flames!

Now where to start… hmm. Nature is dying, robot rebellion is coming, our phones are secretly filming us shit. You seem surprised by this. They’ve got you in 4k popping a squat and they don’t give a shit about it. Why don’t we start there? Let's talk about the screens.

SCREENS Social media is 100% the downfall of humanity, and I say that as someone whose entire life relies on three apps. Not youtube, instagram, and facebook - onlyfans, facetuner, and *something.* While I heat my toast in the morning.

Every day when I wake up, I am terrified to reach over to my phone and see what things have been happening in the world. And thus… the doom scrolling begins. You know what doom scrolling is right? You sit back just a moment to look at your phone - then it’s FOURTEEN DAYS LATER. You lost your job, you smell like shit. All of your houseplants are dead. You go to scratch your leg, it’s not there. The cat ate it to avoid starvation. Our phones are literal black holes full of the worst things we can find. Terrible natural disasters and awful news about your favorite celebrity. Or the worst thing at all - that really annoying friend asking if you want to go for a coffee some time.

Yeah, that’s the worst thing. I would rather lose a hundred hectares of rainforest than spend an hour in Cafe Nero making small talk, staring into a latte wishing it would jump out of my cup and drown me. No - come up with an excuse. I’ll just say my grandma died. It works for everything, that’s a great excuse. The only problem is you can only use it once. Or twice for the other side of the family. Or more if you have a polyamorous lesbian grandma. Anyone here plan on becoming a polyamorous lesbian grandma? [audience cheers] Alright!

But for real, *something* we can’t look away from it. As humans we are naturally drawn toward the doom and gloom. It’s an evolutionary need to perceive every possible threat. Flight or fight, yeah? Or flight or curl up in a ball and *something* to death. *something* Social media companies know this. They know we want to see things that are terrible, so they feed us with an endless stream of bite-sized tragedy that are like anxiety hit tracks.

[something happening on the screen] Doom! Doom! Doom! Aww. Doom! Doom!

See what I’m talking about? It’s that easy. But it’s not just the bad things. I think it’s also the good things that make you feel terrible when you see status updates from your popular attractive friends living their best lives, ugh. Truly nothing is as insufferable as other people’s joy. They got engaged, they got promoted, they went on holiday and touched an elephant. They ran a marathon and they raised loads of money for charity. What a twat. Has anyone here run a marathon before? [audience laughs] Fuck. I found my people, okay.

You done exercise before? [No.] What was that - oh, you’re saying ‘um’ because you’re in a wheelchair, you have an excuse. I love the extremely confident ‘um’ from you there. We’re all desperately trying to turn our lives into content. I think instagram is just a horrible place filled with fake people trying to present these perfect lives. Some of us are just more secure in the knowledge of how insecure we are, and I think we should get credit for being honest with ourselves. Yeah - *something* No. Not in this house. Guys, we need a word for this.

But *sensually?* experiencing life around us has definitely taken a backseat to capturing it on camera. Even live events like this - the key word being live. I get it. You obviously want to take some kind of memory for posterity, but we’ve all been at a gig where there’s some guy in the front row holding up a fucking second generation ipad air *something* - GREG! Drop the fucking tablets *something* so I can see Dan outline his fashion statements.

Okay. But I get it, the urge is strong. That is why I asked you kindly to try and connect with me in this room tonight. Not physically, *something* obviously. I want you to connect with each other. Find each other after the show. Talk about the good time you had slash *something.* But if you don’t publicly post spoilers about the show just for the Australians that have to wait for 2023 for this shit *something* there’s not gonna be an Australian in 2023. It’s gonna be me doing this to a koala in a fallout shelter. However, just in case someone is secretly filming this on a spycam or perhaps streaming this to a contraband twitter space from a phone in their pocket now.

I have an announcement. Hi, and welcome to the *something* I’m your host Dan Howell and I’d like to confirm for the record, I’m a Tory. I’m actually straight. I have a six pack, a sixteen inch penis, and a tattoo of *Armie Hammer?* on my left butt cheek. Oh yeah. Armie Hammier. *something* The reverse Call Me By Your Name. That’s when you take a bite out of the peach then come in it. [audience boos] I thought I was allowed to express myself! Are you trying to bully me back into the closet? I see how it is.

Look. I think the internet is fucking amazing. It is a place where people can come together and find communities, they can share information, get representation that they wouldn’t get in real life. It saves lives. It saved mine. If I didn’t escape the bubble of my homophobic childhood I might not be here today. It’s the reason why we are all together in this room right now, and I think that that is awesome.

[audience cheers]

But on the other hand we’ve got guys filming themselves throwing milk on the floor in a shop - wow. And I hear fascism’s back in style, oh well. Play some Muse(?). Did you see what happened to Gabbie Hanna the other day? Girl potentially having a breakdown on TikTok and some guy turns up at her house to secretly film her because, I don’t know, banging content? Is this where we’re heading? Is this the future? This is what I’m afraid of, right? The internet just gives us all this power to make our lives amazing but it’s also drawing us toward doom and desperation and I’m afraid that if things keep going the way they are, we’re going to crash and burn.

[visual element]

Now perhaps the biggest danger of our social media addiction… Can you guess? Is data harvesting, okay! Because every single thing you do is being monitored. The likes, the dislikes, the friends, the transactions, the incognito tab - they know all of it okay. I want to give a shoutout to the FBI agent assigned to my internet. That guy has seen some shit. He needs therapy. But our privacy is all up for grabs, and to demonstrate this I am now going to grab a member of the audience and force them to show us their camera roll. [drumroll sound effects]

Why would I do that? Hell. What! No. But for real, l that is what every app is doing to all of us right now. [audience screams] Bunch of exhibitionists. When we think about privacy, we only really care about two things - our browser history being exposed and our nudes being leaked. But the truth is unless your password is the name of your dog, you’re probably fine. Anyone here have the name of their dog as their password? What’s your dog’s name? Percy? That is a short fucking password, okay. Oh, dear.

Privacy is really an issue for all of us, thinking about it. But the truth is that our news or searches for Sonic the Hedgehog mpreg gore are not very interesting. No offense. What they wanna know is every single boring thing you do. The posts you like, the ads you click on, the images you scroll by just for a second and think ‘hmm, I would.’ Don’t shame me, okay. You want to fight, don’t you. Okay, I see how it goes. But what is the evil end goal for all this data harvesting, you’re wondering? It’s just adverts. They just want to give us more personal adverts, how nice of them. It’s like digging through someone’s trash and then turning up at their front door like, ‘Hey, want some of this?’

I swear to god I only get adverts for things I literally just bought. I’ll be, I don’t know, buying some oranges so I don’t get scurvy because I don’t ever leave the house, and instagram will be like… hath thou considered this citrus? Bit late, mate. Why don’t you give me something that I need, like toilet roll. Ideally before I run out and have to start tearing pages out of my promo copy of Tom Daly’s autobiography. Do not make me put Tom Daly in my ass! Again. Legend.

In 2020, it was leaked that Facebook had a secret operation called Operation (?). That sounds nice, doesn’t it? They want to find out if their algorithm had learned to exploit our attraction to devices by deliberately putting (?) and political views together, and it absolutely was. And you know what they did when they found out facebook was doing it? NOTHING. Because when society is being ripped apart, you scroll past loads of ads. It’s great for business! And that might be scary, right. Because if the apps can control the content we see, they can control how we feel. Facebook makes you angry. Instagram makes you sad. Duolingo makes you horny. No? You might say… hornay. You don’t like that? Can anyone say horny in another language?

[audience interaction about saying horny]

This is scary, right? Thinking that the phones have this much control over our lives? WRONG. I think it’s a great thing. I would love for my life to be controlled by a machine. Or maybe I just crave domination, I don’t know. Life is hard. I don’t want to make these decisions. What t-shirt am I going to wear today, what bus do I have to catch to be on time, which pornhub category will I dive into and then feel deep shame about for several months? I do not want to make these decisions, okay. I just want an ad to be like Dan, wear a blue t-shirt for once. Get the 12 local bus and stop being (?). Dive into DILF tag for a good time.

Now, we’re not quite there yet. But one thing's for sure - we will all be replaced by robots one day. I have a couple of friends that are already halfway there. [Phil on screen] THey can do anything we can do. They can build cars, harvest crops, keep you on the phone to the bank for half an hour before I realize I’m just realize stupid. But surely there are some things that these AI programs can’t do? Mm, you’d be shocked. They’re replacing our pets with indestructible metal dogs. Have you seen that? What the fuuuuuck! Oh, don’t worry, they’re just for delivering items across terrain. Definitely not hunting down (?) in 2032 (?) with their metal snouts. If that dog humped your leg, you’d end up with third degree burns.

But what is safe? Human consciousness, art, love. No, none of those things! Love isn’t real. Love is just a toxic manipulative relationship where you need something from someone so you give them affection and the occasional disappointing orgasm. Unless it’s the love you have for your mother. Hopefully. But what about art? The creative reflection on life that separates us from the beats and the binary code? Are there any artists here? [audience cheers] ART IS ALREADY DEAD. A computer can do anything way better than you! Some of these AI art programs are a bit shit and you’re not quite redundant yet. I’m sure you all still have PTSD from that time I asked one to show Dan Howell experiencing happiness for the first time. Yes, (?). They say that the eyes are the window to the soul and my soul is an asshole.

I got access to the big boy Dall-E and I made this AI visualize my fantasies.

[section of AI images appearing on screen]

But hey - so maybe they’re taking our jobs, they’re taking our art. Perhaps this is the last bastion right here. Human communication. We want to have connections with real people. We want to share stories, move each other emotionally, make jokes about depression and penises. And surely a robot could never replace this, right?

Well. I’d like to introduce you to someone.

[deep fake of Dan appears on screen]

Hi, Dan.

[deep fake: Hi, Dan.]

I’m so turned on right now. I commissioned a deep fake of myself to prove definitively that even I could be replaced or even subversed by a machine. He’s also running my onlyfans.

[If you want feet pics, that’s extra.]

This computer generated me can do all kinds of things I can’t do. He does exercise. You could juice an orange with those biceps. He can juggle. He’s really good at (?).

[I hate my job and my audience terrifies me.]

He’s also heterosexual.

[I am attracted to the form of breasts.]

He has an easier life than me. He’s everything I’m not. Outdoorsy. Active. Brave. Look at that. So realistic. I don't know how many of you noticed, but he actually did all the programming for this tour.

[I am so excited to go back on the road. I love living on a bus sharing one toilet between nine people.]

Hell, I could even be a deep fake right now. If (?). It’s a fucking joke. (?)

He can sound like me. He can look exactly like me. But he cannot replicate my mind, because I am a complex human consciousness made of real experiences and emotions.

[But Dan, your consciousness follows a simple formula.]

Sorry, what?

[Your writing is a simple formula, too. I might even say predictable.]

Okay, rude.

[Popular topic plus personal experience divided self-depricating relatability minus obvious sexual innuendo equals Dan’s content.]

It’s not that simple. I’m speaking from the heart, here.

[Did you know I’m socially awkward? Just kidding, it’s depression. Also, do you know I’m gay? I like penis.]

Okay, anyone can do an impression.

[Dan, I can even predict where the show is going and how it will end.]

Spoilers.

[I can even make the point of the show in a much more entertaining and profound way.]

No, no you can’t.

[At the end of the day, maybe all you can do is-]

*Dan speaks over the recording and ends it*

CONSPIRACY THEORIES Now I'm sure you're thinking this is all sounding a bit tinfoil hats. "Ooh, Dan, the apps are controlling our minds. Alexa is secretly keeping a list of everybody that doesn't say thank you so she can ?? Dan! Aren't these just conspiracies?" Hell yes! And I love a conspiracy! Do you?

Well, I lied, I used to love conspiracies because, I don't know, conspiracies used to be funny. You'd hear about some bloke named Barry down the pub who knew the earth was flat and he had a mate that sailed to the edge and spill off the edge. And look he was obviously batshit and smelled like a salami but he wasn't hurting anyone! Apart from his liver and strange family. But! [laughs] I think all good conspiracies are simply stupid, epically unintelligent pieces of fun fiction that everybody can enjoy. Do you want to hear my favorite conspiracies? Here are my top three classic favorites.

Go.

Number one: Avril Lavigne ?? Classic. The story goes in 2006 Avril Lavigne died, presumably hit by a runaway skateboard or something, and her record label, desperate to keep making money from her touring, replaced her with a clone called Melissa! Now! You may think this is stupid, but can you tell the difference? Is this Avril or Melissa?

[shows something on screen] Ooh, what d'you think? [audience response] I like how you're like "I don't - fuck it - Melissa." This one? Oh, see now ?? What about this one?

[Liz Truss shows up on screen; audience laughs]

That's not Avril Lavigne, that's a fucking idiotic shell puppet that is an embarrassment to the country! [audience cheers]

Next conspiracy: chem trails! Yes, that's right, the naturally occurring streaks of water vapor that do come out of the back of every single plane. ?? it's piss tanks so we're all ?? are actually a cocktail of secret chemicals that are released to make the population stupid. Now, the only problem with this one is implying that the people that lose our luggage are being trusted with secret chemicals. You think RyanAir could successfully execute a bio-terrorist conspiracy? They can't execute a fucking frozen tikka masala. There you go, airplane food joke.

Next! It is: every TV game show is rigged. Obviously!? They can't be giving out max prize every single time, they have to save it for one episode a season. Who Wants To Be a Millionaire going a bit too well? How many atoms are there in all of space? Hmm! Oh what, you wanna ask the audience? Good luck, we've been pumping chem trails into the studio all day! We all know they get too close to 52k, secret hatch under the podium, swap out the card, go home with 50p. Well, The Chase ?? When they're looking for contestants they find thick people.

And those are my favorite conspiracies. They're great, right? The problem is that nowadays conspiracies are no longer being discussed in secret. Now teen tinfoilers are hitting the streets and taking action. I wanna know: whyyy are they so obsessed with the 5G towers? I need 5G, okay? I like fast Internet. I am not going back to 2006 watching porn on dial-up, sat in the kitchen, as the shaft of a penis slowly loads up the monitor of my mum's work PC, okay? No. We didn't need edging back then ?? Leave the 5G alone!

And these conspiracies they're not fun, they're dangerous. 'Cause yeah, 5G causes ?? And the freaking microchips in the vaccines. The queers are secretly going to overthrow society. And they're stupid, these conspiracies, they're like Trump toddlers knocked over a bowl of alphabet soup. I genuinely think that the people of Ipswich and not that came to the show just because it's the first one could come up with a better conspiracy theory that's more believable right now... It's time to play conspiracy theory madlibs!

CONSPIRACY THEORY MAD LIBS (**audience participation*) Popstar- Harry Styles Politician- Boris Johnson Verb- cumming Body Part- nipple Household Object- whisk Vegetable- eggplant

“Did you know that Harry Styles and Boris Johnson are secretly married? They consummated their marriage by coming on each other’s nipples and now they have two children called whisk and eggplant”

Song- bring me to life by evanescence Adjective- moist Animal- rat Group of people- furries “How are you feeling right now?”- horny

“If you listen to Bring Me To Life backwards there is a secret hidden message that the government is putting moist rat hormones in the furries in order to make them horny”

Make a noise- *fart noise* Influencer- Phil Lester Store- Primark Zoo Animal- zebra Children’s fictional character- Harry Potter

“There is a secret society called the *fart noise* and it’s run by Phil Lester. They meet every week in the basement of Primark. They meet to sacrifice zebras in order to appease their violent god, Harry Potter.”

Well, it's that easy to come up with a compelling conspiracy these days. And because of that it just feels like a lot of people that we know are - maybe not in a funny way, maybe in a concerning way - starting to go down the big conspiracy hole. And I think it is tempting to laugh at these people for just being stupid or label them as crazy, but I don't think that's fair, right? I don't think that they are necessarily evil. When people turn to conspiracies like this I think it's probably because they're depressed. Because society is fucked. People want something to hope for. They want to believe there's something more to life than just what we see every single day, so when they find out that there is a secret and now that they know the secret they are special and their help is needed to save the world, they just go all the way down then. Even if saving the world is screaming at confused ?? slipping hormones into the ?? turning teenagers queer. Ugh!

But the truth is there is no great conspiracy. There is no illuminati. There's no lizard people or secret government. It is just capitalism, working as intended. [dramatic choir music plays]

CAPITALISM Anyhow, concept: Perhaps literal billionaires could pay just a bit more tax and some people wouldn't have to be homeless? [audience cheers] Crazy commie thinking! If you wanna think like that you are gonna be licking raw concrete off the floor of a freezing Gulag whilst polishing a giant golden statue of Jeremy Corbyn! Okay? Oh god, no. That is what my granddad says to me every single Christmas, and this is a stupid thing, right? Not a hard thing but ?? [audience laughs] Oh dear. ??

The thing is when you look at any mainstream political party in the first world, no one is proposing a revolution. You've got all these crazy billionaire defense squads that are so scared to change anything when in reality no one is trying to turn this into Soviet Russia - just Denmark, okay? Same shit, same problems, just ever so slightly less horrifically evil, but nooo this is a crazy radical plot to give people marginally better public transport. [sound effect]

I personally, no matter what might happen to my crazy (plan or) career, will ever not feel financially stressed, because I have somehow ended up financially supporting my own family. Even if they haven’t always emotionally supported me. I once came home from school crying and told my mum that someone called me gay. She misheard me, thought I said "fat" and suggested I might cycle to youth theater on Saturdays. Yikes!

So I cannot look to anyone to bail me out if I fuck up. If I am on the stage like this where I say something horrible and I get sued - have I done that so far? [audience responds] What was it, was it the granddad thing? ?? I might be forced to move back to my homophobic hometown and that is not an option for me, okay?

Now, millennials, if you want some advice ?? That if you want to pay off your student loans, you just have to cancel your Netflix subscription, guys. If you want to pay off the average student loan of about 46,000 pounds you only need to cancel Netflix for 416 years. Which as it happens was the exact length of the latest Stranger Things season. Those episodes were thicc as fuck. ??

It is hard to visualize the scale of ?? the world when it is just these big numbers, so I have come up with an inappropriately whimsical metaphor: bubbles. But for this I’m going to need some help so welcome to the stage my unpaid intern, Bubbly Ben.

[something happening on stage]

Alright, you ready for this shit? Here we go. I will blow one bubble to represent the average UK salary. Do you know what it is? Any guesses? Depressing fact: 24,600 pounds. Here we go.

Fuck! ?? Whoops.

What about doctors, huh? How many bubbles do they deserve to get comparatively, do you know what their salary is? I like that you actually went quiet there. Well done, smartypants. It’s their job to literally keep us alive even if we swallow superglue, Phil Lester.

What was the UK’s most desired profession - you’re fucking right! Being a youtuber. Depressing. Now, your mileage might vary depending on success and shamelessly. But according to Forbes in 2020, Logan Paul made 18 million pounds. [audience reacts] Yay, Youtube! Filming dead bodies! Wow. What the fuck am I doing on an eighty day world tour talking about depression? I could just get punched by KSI and ??.

The big dog himself - Mr. Jeffery Bezos, the richest man on Earth. Now Jeff has frequently paid zero on annual federal income tax. In fact on his taxes in 2011 he claimed tax credits of $4,000 for his kids. I’m sure he needed it. But now after a few tough years for everybody, Jeff’s net worth is a cool 160b dollars. Release the bubbles!

Don’t worry, they don’t stain. Probably. We’ll find out.

The reality is that going by this shit bubble analogy, I’d have to release over 530,000 bubbles to accurately represent the amount of Smaug-like hoarding taking place here. So we are all told to be angry about that guy taking our bubble or that guy taking five while Jeff here is sat on a fucking bubble bath of warehouse workers tears, scrubbing his back with the spines of books that are suspiciously cheaper than ??

You may be thinking - Amazon’s convenient, they have everything! True. But you don’t get to number one just by being good. You need some smart business decisions like making your delivery drivers piss in bottles so they keep working longer. Did you like my bubble gun by the way? Got it off Amazon. Oh sorry I didn’t find any organic farm to shop local suppliers of bubble guns in my local area, no. And this is it guys - we live in a society! And until the government forces businesses to play nice, nothing is gonna change. So hey, if you’re an elderly political that isn’t gonna live long enough to see the suffering, starvation, and inevitable revolution, who gives a fuck, right? Keep your foot on the pedal and with a little luck you’ll leave it to your fucked up kids to inherit your empire of a desolate planet.

[sound effects]

CLIMATE CRISIS Of all the problems in our human society - the doom scrolling, the inequality, there is something truly terrifying on the horizon: climate change.

Yes, the boss level of all pain and misery, and it is truly the ultimate existential threat and yet our problem is half the people just don’t think it’s real or simply don’t give a shit. And yeah, I get it, change is scary, okay. I totally lost my shit when they changed the font on the twitter app.

This is arguably almost as serious as that. But some of these climate deniers, they have spent their whole lives driving land rovers, eating twelve steaks a day, just throwing beer cans out the window and now some short Swedish girl pops up on the tv and calls them evil? This is a violent paradigm shift. It’s like when people tell me to stop sexualizing cereal mascots - I will not do it. No, no. The Sugar Puffs monster can demolish my bussy. I’m revealing myself.

Now, I’m pretty green, personally. Maybe because I don’t go outside. Turns out ?? use of heat occasionally. I’m basically vegan which means sometimes when I’m sad I have a milk chocolate and then cry thinking about the cows. Which makes me sad so I have another chocolate. It’s a vicious cycle. A delicious, vicious cycle. Also I might have had sushi once but it was on my birthday. I didn’t eat the sushi, I thought about it, okay!

Yet again I am literally on a global tour right now. My mission to save my soul and give you all one good night might as well be flying a burnt out car into Greta’s driveway, and yet the rub is just one hundred companies are responsible for seventy one percent of all global emissions. And that just means our individual actions pale in comparison to a handful of corporations and their shareholders. We’ve got all the guilt about this stuff while they’re just a bunch of comic book villains demolishing rain forests and setting the ocean on fire and embedding immortal microplastics in every single living being.

Some people are gonna be in for a shock when the system comes crashing down. And hey, where are we even gonna live when half the earth is a scorched desert? If only we knew who to call.

[sound effects, something on screen introducing next section]

DENIAL My name is Dean Niall, realtor to the dying stars and today I am here to let you in on the secret up side of the current ecological collapse which is - serious savings! Are you a young person that’s afraid to get a property line because the boomers are a bunch of money grubbing bastards? Booo! Well, feast your eyes on what they left behind.

[visual heavy segment where he advertises property during the apocalypse]

So is this it? Is this our fate, hmm? I think it is kinda terrifying to feel like we have no control over our future, so maybe I can lift the mood of the room by reminding you all that at literally any moment the sun could burn and in seven minutes all life on earth would go up in a blazing ball of molting plasma, yay!

Alright! Now you feel better, don’t you? Your problems seem so insignificant because they are insignificant. It could be anything! A fuck off rock coming from outer space, alien inviasion (although lets be honest, I’d probably like a cheeky probe), the bees having colony collapse disorder. If the bees disappear we’ve got four years until all life on earth shrivels and dies. Now that’s a stinger. It could be anything. A black hole could just get shit out of space from the solar system and we would instantly turn to string! At any moment. Like now! Are you ready? Have you got your affairs in order? Have you cleaned your browsing history so your family doesn’t find your smut stash. Don’t worry, it doesn’t matter! Have you prepared? Prepared to be string? Cool. In the face of such unimaginable cosmic horror, there is truly no hope at all.

You know I thought that talking about these problems would make me feel better, that’s kind of the point. But I’ve got to be honest, we are boned. I thought that doing this tour would uh, be a kind of ??, give me something to look forward to.?? But there is nothing to look forward to but the inevitable end. What’s the point of even trying? You know what, I should just have just eaten the goddamn sushi. I should just post feet pics and get more followers. I should have sold all of your data to china, cryptocurrency. I should have bought the deep fake for meet and greet. I could have posted every conspiracy I have on facebook. I should have done this tour on a private jet, crashed Harry Styles house, put the whole thing on a fucking ?? ipad. [words get increasibly buried under a heavy bass]

BREAK FOR INTERMISSION

#wad spoilers

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maccreadysbaby · 1 year

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Yes hi yes hi can you please give me a react of f!lone finding out butchs mom died in the vault and he doesn’t show up to class but she is a good person so she goes to find him and ask if he’s ok even though he’s so mean to her

yes! I’ve never played fo3 anywhere past leaving the vault, so that and other peoples works are all of the insight I have on butch’s personality. I’m so sorry if I portray him a little wonky💀😭 this is written under the implication that they don’t like each other

Nosebleed?™︎

She sighed heavily as she opened her textbook, flipping through it as she and the rest of the class waited for Mr. Brotch to make it into the classroom. It was already a few minutes past time for class to start, and Mr. Brotch was always on time. It just made Lone wonder. Not that she was complaining about wasted class time.

And for a while, it seemed like that was all it would be. That is, until Amata came barreling into the room, sliding into the desk in front of Lone and turning on a dime. Her dark ponytail whacked her in the face, but she didn’t even care. Her eyebrows shot sky high and she squeaked, albeit, quietly: “Did you hear?!”

Lone leaned in closer to her best friend, scanning her surprised and worried expression. “No? What’s up?”

“Butch’s mom, she… well, she died,” Amata whispered the statement, but it seemed to be the loudest thing in the room.

“… What?”

“Yeah, heard she drowned in all that vodka,” Amata whispered.

Lone instinctively glanced around, quickly finding Wally Mack and Paul Hannon at the front of the class, acting totally, completely normal. Did they even know? They had to know, Lone decided, why wouldn’t they? Butch would tell them, right? So why were they here and not with him? He was alone now, wasn’t he? He didn’t have any other family? Amata would take a month off of class to be with Lone if anything ever happened to her dad, so… why weren’t Butch’s friends doing the same?

“-Earth to Lone,”

Lone glanced back at Amata, who was still staring at her. “Sorry, what?”

“I said doesn’t that suck. I don’t know what I’d do if my dad died,”

Lone nodded, glancing back at Wally Mack and Paul Hannon in their stupid jackets. They’d wear the symbol of their group but not waste their time being there for one of them?

Surely Lone was overthinking. They probably didn’t even know. How did Amata even know?

“Where did you hear all of this?” Lone questioned. Amata cocked her head to the side, chuckling.

“My dads the overseer, or did you forget? Plus, my dads out in the hall telling Mr. Brotch,”

Oh, right. The overseer.

Lone glanced around the room warily.

“Where’s Butch?”

Amata looked at her best friend, calculating, questioning with her eyes. “I don’t know, probably holed up in his room. Why?”

“By himself?”

Amata furrowed her brow. “I mean, the rest of his social group is here, so I’d assume. Unless one of the adults is in there with him.”

“You think one is?”

“Probably not. The only other one the least bit qualified to handle any of this is your dad, and I just saw him,” Amata stated, brushing some fallen hair out of her face. “Why?”

“I mean… it kinda sucks for him to be alone, doesn’t it?” Lone questioned, glancing anxiously at the door. Her leg was bouncing underneath the desks. Amata glanced down at it.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re thinking of going. Butch DeLoria is a mega-douchebag, Lone, especially to us. He’d probably just curse you right back out the door anyways,” Her best friend reasoned. “I know you like to play the role of the vaults resident nicey-nice, but Butch is not someone to pity.”

Lone scoffed. “This isn’t a little misfortune, Amata. Trust me, if it was, I’d laugh. His mother just died.”

“I know that, but… look, even if Butch lets you be all nicey-nice for a minute, he’ll never let you live it down. You’re loading his gun,”

Lone snickered. “If Butch DeLoria lets me be nicey-nice without his arrogance getting in the way? He’s loading mine, too.”

Amata sighed, running a hand over her face. “I won’t stop you, but I think you’ll regret it.”

Lone glanced around again. Where was Mr. Brotch? Oh, right, in the hallway with Amata’s dad.

Lone couldn’t stop her leg from bouncing as she thought over everything in her head. If she went, she’d probably just get a lifetime supply of embarrassment. But if she didn’t, if he was left alone, what if he wasn’t okay? What if he needed someone right then and she didn’t go? As much as she disliked Butch DeLoria, she couldn’t help but feel for him. And as rude as he was, she couldn’t shake the fact that everything inside of her was telling her to go. After all, most mean people have sucky circumstances that make them mean. So was he even a bad guy? The answer was obviously yes. Or was it?

“Wish me luck,” Lone muttered, leaving her textbook on the desk and rising from the seat.

“Seriously?” Amata questioned, shaking her head. “Well, if you come back with a bloody nose, I’ll say I told you so!”

Lone shook her head as she made her way into the hall. She spotted Mr. Brotch and The Overseer speaking in an adjacent hall, so they’d be easy enough to tip-toe by. She couldn’t help but listen in to their conversation as she passed.

“-don’t know. He’s a sixteen year old trouble child. I’m not sure who’d be open to taking him in,”

“-but you aren’t just gonna leave him alone, are you?”

“He’s practically been raising himself all these years anyhow. It might be less stressful for him to work through it alone instead of throwing him into another family setting,”

“But he’s a child-“

Their voices faded as Lone got farther away from them. They were thinking about putting Butch with another family? Butch? As much as she felt for him, she agreed that there probably wasn’t a soul in the vault who’d agree to taking in Butch DeLoria.

She weaseled her way down toward the residential area, into the deeper parts of the vault. Was she really doing this? Going to speak to Butch DeLoria, willingly? She didn’t think about it much because she knew she’d change her mind. She just needed to do it.

So, she exhaled heavily when she stopped at his door. God, she couldn’t believe she was going through with this. But, would she want to be alone if her dad died? Even if Butch was the one who showed up? No.

With a deep breath, she gently rapped her knuckles against the door.

It took a few seconds for him to answer — during which she was rethinking all of her life’s choices — but the door eventually slid open.

Butch looked… normal. He was still wearing his jacket, still has his hair all greased up and perfect. Even the judgmental look he gave her was the same as normal.

“What do you want?” He asked, disappearing from the doorway but leaving it open so she could speak. She stepped forward a tiny bit so she could see him trail over to a couch and sit down on it.

“I was coming to see if you’re… okay. I noticed Wally and Paul weren’t doing such a great job at it,”

Butch inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I’m all fine and dandy. You can go now.”

Lone shifted on her feet. “Oh, okay. I’m… sorry about your mom.”

“Me, too,” He replied nonchalantly, propping his elbow on the arm of the sofa and resting his forehead on it.

“Do you need anything?” She continued.

“Sure, I need lots of things, but your pity isn’t one of them,” He hissed, eyeing her from the couch with narrowed eyes. His words were dripping with so much venom that she suddenly understood why he called himself a snake. “Why’re you really here? Recon so you and Amata can laugh at me later?”

Lone’s mouth fell open. “I’m not- I don’t-“

“Just get out, yeah?”

Lone sighed heavily. Amata was right. “I’m not here to make fun of you. That’s your thing, not mine. I just thought you might not want to be alone. Obviously I was wrong.”

She huffed, turning on her heel to head back out the door. She knew she shouldn’t have come. What was she thinking? That it’d be all fine and dandy and he’d have a holly jolly time? Amata was right. She needed to get a grip on this nicey-nice stuff before it came back to haunt her.

Just as she crossed the threshold to the hallway, Butch’s voice came again: “Paul and Wally don’t know.”

She froze, pivoting on her heel back towards the door. She glanced inside. “They don’t?”

Butch shifted on the couch, crossing his legs. “I was trying to keep the number of people knowing to a minimum, and they can’t keep their meatheads shut.”

Lone took another step forward, watching his face to determine her next move. He didn’t say anything, so she stepped again.

“Want me to close the door?”

“Don’t care, nosebleed. If Amata told you, it’s only a matter of time before everyone else knows. She’s always been into handing my personal information out around the vault like Halloween candy.”

Lone sighed and turned backwards, pressing the button to close the door. It slid shut and clicked. He was right, about Amata. She’d told the entire class his mom was a drunk two years ago when he’d insulted her particularly grossly.

“Is there… anything you wanna talk about, or do? Maybe take your mind off of everything?” She asked, stepping forward again. She was thinking about making a move for the seat next to him, but she wasn’t that confident yet. “I can get a board game or something. Or we can just… talk. Up to you.”

“You are trying way too hard to be helpful and it’s making me nauseous. Just sit down,” He ordered. Lone shut her mouth and obeyed, taking a seat to his left and pressing herself against the farthest arm of the couch. Well, she was in the room, so that was a start, right? Right?

They fell silent for a solid five minutes. It felt like a year and Lone quietly wished she was dead for all of it.

“Your moms dead, isn’t she?” Butch asked suddenly. Lone glanced over at him, brows knitted together.

“You definitely know how to start a conversation,” She shook her head. “But yeah — died in childbirth.”

“Do you blame yourself?” He continued. She scanned his face, trying to read it for what in the world he was after, but there was a glint of genuineness in his icy eyes that she’d never seen before, and she didn’t want to lose it by being sarcastic.

“Uh, sometimes,” She replied, glancing down at her hands for a second. “I mean, it wasn’t really my fault but it feels like it, y’know?”

He stayed quiet for a few moments, looking across the room at nothing in particular. “How do you… make that go away? The guilt?”

Lone looked back up at him, her chest tightening as she suddenly understood what this was about.

“You’re… not the reason your mom died, Butch,”

He turned his head away from her. “She was getting better with the drinking, she really was. But it started again when she sobered up enough to realize what I was up to. Who I am.”

Lone’s voice went deathly soft. “It’s not your fault.”

“You don’t know that,” He muttered.

“I know that your mom was coherent enough to make her own choices. You can’t take responsibility for other people’s actions, you just can’t,” Lone tried. “Everyone has free will, you can’t make anyone do anything. They choose it themselves.”

“Why does it feel like it was all my fault, then?” He finally looked back over at her, and her breath hitched in her throat when she saw glossy, crystal clear tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes. Hers immediately started to burn, but she blinked it away.

“You’re… taking too much responsibility,” She stated, looking away at the same time he did. “It isn’t gonna get you anywhere other than exactly where she was. You just need to… let yourself understand that it wasn’t you, it was her.”

He sighed, shakily. “But she did it because of me.”

“That was her choice to make,” Lone stated, carefully reaching over and resting a hand on the shoulder of Butch’s leather jacket. He didn’t move away like she thought he would. “Just let it sink in. It was her choice.”

He let out another shaky breath, accompanied by a few tears rolling down his face. Lone didn’t say anything about them, only rubbed his shoulder the slightest bit, sympathy painted across her features. This was a situation she never thought she’d be in. Ever.

“Why are you here? Helping me?” He asked suddenly. She didn’t move her hand.

“Because you’re hurting, and I’m not just gonna leave you to do it alone. Even the infamous Butch DeLoria needs someone he can lean on,” She explained, but he didn’t look at her. “I know what it feels like to lose your mom. And I didn’t want you to go through it alone.”

He sucked in another breath. “What am I gonna do now? I don’t have anybody.”

Lone scooter the slightest bit toward him, moving her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck. “Well, I didn’t say I was leaving anytime soon.”

As soon as her hand was there, it hardly took any force to pull him into her because he was already on the way. She held her breath for a moment, because Butch DeLoria was seriously crying on her right now, Butch DeLoria. She could feel his shoulders trembling and his head was really warm on her shoulder. But she settled soon enough, rubbing his back lightly.

He would definitely be back to calling her Nosebleed in no time, and frankly, she wouldn’t mind as much.

#butch deloria #butch fo3 #fo3 butch #butch deloria x lone wanderer #butch deloria fo3 #fo3 companions #fallout 3 #lone wanderer #fo3

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