#that means “goodnight” in irish

[afaroffsong]

Oíche mhaith, beloveds.

[oh2e]

I read:

Man kills over land ownership (The Field)

Woman buried husband then drives all her kids away (Big Maggie)

Woman emigrates then returns home temporarily and gets torn between new foreign boyfriend and local boyfriend (Brooklyn)

Autobiography about rural life in the ‘50s (A Thig Ná Tit Orm)

Boy and friends decide to sneak onto a boat to get off their island for the day but they all die in a freak storm (An t-Ádh)

Man who loves his wife very much gets pressured into going out for drinks with his friends by said wife, leaves early and buys her a takeaway to watch with a film and then gets shot on the way home (An Gnáthrud)

i see a lot of people talking about books they had to read at school like great gatsby and whatnot, and i have no idea what that's about, so i'd like to know if the books people here on tumblr had to read at school are "the same" as the ones i had to read at school, being from a non-english country.

i'm genuenly intrigued about what the books people elsewhere had to read were about and are there any similarities? honestly i just need to know fucked are other countries' favoured literary analysis works

[fairydollsteps]

STRESS RELIEF (MINOR DNI)

Synopsis: As expected of his job as the Fortress of Meropide's Administrator, Wriothesley is often buried with piles of paperwork and cases to solve which cause him a lot of stress. Luckily, you have a solution to help destress him.

Feature: Bottom Wriothesley/ Top!Male!Reader

Note/Warning: Smut, making out on bed, overstimulation, use of toy (we going to destroy this man), big fuck machine toy, some crying and pain, bondage (shibari), very rough intercourse, reader is kinda mean is you like it.

Author's note: is surprising to see very less bottom!wriothesley fic because i want him the one screaming. anyway here is smth to feed you all after months of disappearing:)

Fontaine has fallen into the night. The shadows enveloped the beautifully intricate buildings in pitch black. In the reflection of the moon and stars, the water that surrounds the city shimmers. All the townfolk have fallen into a slumber as birdsong fills the air softly like a gentle goodnight. This evening, Fontaine has draped itself in the tranquility of sleep. Except for Wriothesley and you.

Inside the home of both of you lies a naked Wriothesley on his bed, confined and tied into a shibari. He is utterly immobile to move from all the ropes that constrain his muscular body. Red velvet ropes are everywhere and strapping his body down on the bed. His hands and arms are tied firmly behind him as he lies on his back on the bed. His chest is heaving up and down against the ropes and his thighs are bound as well on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs apart.

Wriothesley is feeling multiple emotions at once in his chest. Nervous, excited, and mostly stressed of course. These days, work has become more burdensome than ever before. More dangerous criminals are spotted in Fontaine and more meetings with the Royal Irish Constabulary and blah blah. Nonetheless, his work has kept him for so long that he has forgotten when was the last time he had sex with you. So when you drag him out of his office table and offer some relief, he is quick to accept.

However, he has never expected you to expose him in such a revealing and humiliating way.

Wriothesley attempts closing his legs together against the ropes which to no avail. "Goddam, Y/N. You are cruel," Wriothesley sighs, wondering how is this stress-relieving. The ropes are tight but not too tight to hurt him. Is his first time trying something like this. Then, you finally come in the room with something Wriothesley couldn't latch on due to the restraints of the ropes. Is big. That is all he knows.

"Hello, my dearest," You greet him in a sweet tone, admiring your handiwork. Wriothesley stares at you, curious about whatever you have brought as you sit down at the edge of the bed, still in awe at the sight of him all spread out for you. "Was it too tight for you?" You asked, making sure Wriothesley was comfortable and keeping the stuff you brought hidden from him.

"I can handle it," Wriothesley said in a straight voice but you could tell he was nervous and excited from his blush adorning his face and chest. Your lips curved into a pleased smile and said. "That's good then. I do hope you can handle more than I expected since the night will be long," You get up from the bed as Wriothesley stares at you with a confused look.

"What do you mean?" He asked, slightly writhing against the ropes.

Wriothesley can see you letting out a soft chuckle from his attempt which he slightly scowls at you. You let out soft coos to him and lean over him with an affectionate but playful smile caressing his cheeks gently which Wriothesley can't help but snuggle against your palm contently. Wriothesley relaxed against your touch and he could feel your breath against his ears.

"I did promise you I would fucked you like you want to," You whisper to his ears slyly before you cover his eyes with a blindfold which is something you both have discussed about it before. Fuck that was hot.

Wriothesley gulps as he can hear your footsteps and you hopping over him. He can't see anything. His vision is taken from him and everything is pitch black. Before he could think more, his body jolt with a shiver when he could feel your hand touching his naked cock. "Y-Y/N?-" Wriothesley almost whimper, lifting his head to you forgetting about the ropes only to get pulled down.

"Relax, my dearest. Just relax. You have worked so hard. This is your reward," You purred at him, looking at him and then his beautiful cock. You have lubed your hand and begin jerking his dick off, making Wriothesley beneath you letting out muffled moans. You can't help but smile wickedly. This is only the beginning.

Then, you lubed your finger and began touching his hole. Wriotheslet hitch his breath from the contact. It has not been a full 5 minutes and his body is already shaking. "I have barely touched you and you are already this wet?" You tease him devilishly. His cock already leaking precum which was used as more lube to finger him. "It has been a while huh?"

Wriothesley let out a soft cry when one finger slid in easily. Then another finger which let out a few 'ahs!' and 'ohs!' from him. Then another. Three fingers in. Everything was going too quick but Wriothesley fucking loved it. "I-Is this all you got?" Wriothesley said through ragged breathing, oblivious of what was to come.

"Just you wait. I don't break promises," You begin thrusting your fingers deeper into his prostate. You could tell he was enjoying it when his inside clenched around your fingers eagerly. The feeling is so good that his hip starts moving slightly (due to the restraints) on his own, thrusting back to your fingers which intensifies the pleasure more. "Fuckk……..!!!!" Wriothesley moans loudly as your fingers massage his prostate.

His cock leaks more precum and you know he is about to reach his high so you pulled out your fingers abruptly. Wriothesley let out shocked gasps and whines from the loss. "W-what was that-?" His cries out of frustration from the edging but his voice is shaky from his lost incoming climax.

Then, he screams.

Wriotheslet screams as he could feel something railing into his ass. He didn't know what it was (because of the blindfold) but it was big. So fucking big. Only you know. Is a fuck toy machine. That was the object you have kept hidden from Wriothesley as a surprise. But he doesn't have to know. You grinned wickedly as his body convulse violently as the fuck toy goes deeper into him. It's only halfway through and he looks like he could passed out.

Wriothesley let out loud lewd moans and pleads. "Y/N-! Is too much…! Is too fucking big-AHHH FUCKKK…!!!!!!" The dildo is finally fully in. Wriothesley writhes and whimpers underneath you, trying to adjust to the humongous size of the fuck toy. His hard twitching cock spilled precum, dirtying the sheets and your pants. Wriothesley quivers against the ropes which is no help but heightens his sensitivity and pleasure. He is close to tears from how high the pleasure is. The stretch burns like hell but it feels so fucking good to be stuffed full.

His chest heaves up and down with deep breathing as he tries to calm himself down before losing himself. And here you are on top of him smirking like a devil you are. "That was just the start," you said cruelly before pressing the start button. The fuck toy machine starts thrusting him out at a much slower pace for the sake of his comfort. Wriothesley throws his head back, whining as he cries out of your name. His thighs are trembling at every thrust and his cock spasming violently.

You have noticed that Wriothesley has adjusted well to the humongous dildo and even thrust it back with his hips, letting out a soft cry and moans. Then, he reached his climax and came hard with a scream. His body convulse from how intense the orgasm is. Wriothesley tries to take a few deep breaths but realizes you did not stop the toy. Instead, you increase the volume of it.

"Oh, AAA-aArcHons-!! HNGHAAAAA……!!! P-please stop!!! Stop-" Wriothesley screams from overstimulation before he succumbs to another round of hard fucking from the toy. He just came and he could already feel the core of his stomach tightening again with burning passion. Oh fuck fuck fuck. He is going to come again after a few seconds earlier from cumming. The blindfold is already wet from his tears and he even drooling a bit, showing how he is losing control over his withered body. It's too much as he tries to run away from the pleasure but the ropes and your hands on hips keep him from running away.

His body convulses again as a thick rope of cum then spurts out, soiling his stomach and your abdomen. Eyes rolling back and jaw slack, Wriothesley screams from the euphoric shock. Looking at him, you can't help but bite your lips at how utterly destroyed and gorgeous Wriothesley is.

And oh how so sexy the sight before you. Wriothesley, the strict and hard-working Administrator all crumbled against your mercy and spread out for you while being tied up into a shibari beautifully. Much to Wriothesley's relief, you stop the fuck toy machine from fucking him anymore and lean in close to his face.

"You still conscious, my dearest?" You coo at him. Wriothesley whines when you crash into his lips passionately before letting out a shriek when you accidentally move the fuck toy that is still inside him. "Sorry sorry sorry," you apologize to him sweetly while taking off his blindfolds.

Wriothesley looks at you with teary eyes, wanting to hug but forgetting about the restraints. You smile sweetly at his attempt while caressing his tear-soaked cheeks before asking.

"Again?"

The night is long and you got to reward him more after all.

[aestheticpearl]

— 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢-𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨

[𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫] jake seresin

“you’re drunk”

“tipsy” you corrected.

jake opens the car door and reaches over you to unbuckle your seatbelt. you take this opportunity to kiss jake’s cheek and wrap your arms around his neck as he scoops you up to carry you inside. he smells like irish spring soap and an expensive cologne that you secretly love, even though you gave him shit for spending that much money on a cologne.

“let’s get you to bed yeah?”

“you smell amazing” you say as you bury your face into his neck to inhale his scent.

“where was this energy when i bought the cologne huh? made me feel guilty about it for like a week”

“i made you feel guilty?” you pull your face away from his neck to look up at him with the saddest eyes he has ever seen.

“a little, but now i see your true colors so don’t worry about it pumpkin.” he says placing a kiss on your head while setting you down on the bed.

“i need to change” you whine and jake laughs.

“i know, i’ll find something you can change into”

“can it be my favorite sleep shirt?”

“you mean my annual naval picnic shirt?”

“mhm” you nod proudly.

“you want pants with that sugarplum?” he says going through the drawers to find the shirt.

“no thank you” you beam as you swing your legs on the edge of the bed waiting.

“okay then, arms up” you happily obliged and lift your arms so jake can remove the current outfit you have on and replace it with the very comfortable sleep shirt you love dearly.

“i love you ya know”

“i know baby i love you too” he responds leaning in and planting a kiss on your lips. “you ready for bed now?”

“mhm, can we cuddle?”

“of course we can sweetie, now lay down” you move to your side of the bed and watch as jake moves into bed.

“alright c’mere” he says opening his arms for you to move into, you move into his hold and practically melt.

“i love being in your arms, there’s truly now place i would rather be”

“aw that’s sweet—”

“except the beach”

“heyyyy”

“goodnight honey i love you very very much” you declare before placing a final kiss on his cheek and falling asleep.

“i love you too, sleep well baby” jake says placing one last kiss on your forehead.

in the morning you woke up with the second worst hangover of your life and you were barely able to pull yourself out of the soft, warm and very comfortable bed. jake had gotten up maybe an hour ago to start on breakfast and you decided you needed to get up and follow him after thinking about it for that whole hour.

“well look who finally got up”

“shhhhhhh” you bring a finger up to your lips. “so loud”

“sorry” he says in a quieter voice. “how did you sleep?”

“amazing, i would’ve slept longer if someone hadn’t gotten up” you mumble.

“apologies darlin’ but i made you some breakfast for your troubles” you mutter something that jake can’t really make out as he places a plate in front of you, along with some tylenol.

“thank you”

“of course pumpkin” he says placing a kiss on your head.

please reblog to show support ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

.midnights masterlist

[thisultraviolet]

Goodnight y’all tomorrow is Superfan day which means we get to find out who won my listening hours this week, Irish Jesus or Obscure German Musical From 2009 😍

[chicgeekgirl89]

The Luck o’ the Irish

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand

Summary: St. Patrick's Day with a Kindergartener means only one thing: Leprechaun traps. And Carlos isn't thrilled with the results.

A/N: I teach K-5 music and St. Patrick's Day is BY FAR the biggest day of the year. They've been making traps all week long and I couldn't help but write a little something for the boys.

Read on AO3

Carlos stares at the monstrosity on his kitchen table. It’s an eyesore and it hurts him to even be in the same room with it. Maybe if he just…

He stands and walks closer, eyeing the offending object with his hands on his hips. He’s reaching out to try and adjust a couple things when he hears T.K. coming down the hall, causing him to whip around, hands held innocently behind his back.

“Okay, it took three books and the goodnight song, plus an extra monster check and a drink of water, but he’s down,” T.K. says as he rounds the corner. He spots Carlos and his eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Carlos says. “Nothing. I was just looking. Three books? It’s supposed to be one.”

“Well I had to bargain him down from six. He’s definitely your kid,” T.K. says with a smile as he starts making hot water for tea.

That their kid loves reading as much as Carlos does makes Carlos’ heart soft with happiness on a regular basis. It’s amazing to see pieces of yourself in the tiny human you’re raising. 

Unfortunately Carlos does not see a single piece of himself in the abomination that takes up a third of their table. He frowns down at it again, then sticks out a finger to swipe at some errant glue.

“Don’t touch that,” T.K.’s voice says behind him and Carlos can’t take it anymore.

“We can’t let him take this to school tomorrow.”

“Because…you want bring shame on our family by having our child to be the only one in his class that doesn’t have a trap to catch the leprechaun?”

“T.K., his teacher is going to take one look at this and think we’re terrible parents! It’s a disaster!” He looks down again at the pile of floppy, wet cardboard and paper. “Look at this ramp! It’s not even close to ADA compliant, it couldn’t bear the weight of a fly let alone a small mythical creature. He didn’t even cut straight lines or use any of the stickers I got him.”

Carlos points to the unopened packages of shamrock and gold star stickers that he’d purchased to adorn their child’s masterpiece. As it turns out, their kiddo isn’t interested in arts and crafts at all. He’d spent fifteen minutes on the thing, sticking some green paper to the outside of a box, and then emptying an entire bottle of glitter glue (Carlos’ reluctant compromise to having glitter in their house) at the bottom of a paper towel tube he’d haphazardly placed along the side. 

“Well first of all, I think it’s a slide, not a ramp, and considering that no creature, mythical or otherwise is going to be inside of it, I don’t think we need to have the safety inspector come out,” T.K. tells him. “And I’m sure his teacher has seen worse.”

“It looks like a five-year-old did it.”

“That’s because our son is a five-year-old,” T.K. tells him as if he’s a small child too. “This is what five-year-olds do.”

“Not me,” Carlos says defensively. “My school projects were masterpieces. Whatever this is, he gets it from you.”

“Are you saying you’re perfect and I’m a mess?”

“No, I’m saying I’m fastidious and you have a more carefree approach to life,” Carlos tells him. “What if I redo it and we tell him the leprechaun came early and helped fix it up?”

T.K. raises his eyebrows. “The leprechaun came to help build his own trap? I don’t think our kid is going to buy that one babe.” 

He’s right. Their child may not be a Picasso, but he definitely outsmarts them both on a regular basis. “Let me at least try and get some of the glitter glue out of it. It’s never going to dry.”

“I think that’s the point. The leprechaun goes down the slide and gets stuck in the glue.” T.K. takes a sip of tea, sending his husband an amused look over the rim of the cup.

“You’re enjoying this,” Carlos accuses. 

“A little.”

“It doesn’t bother you that our son is going to school with a subpar project?”

“Nope,” T.K. pops the ‘p’. “For three reasons. One, I know most of the other kids are going to have projects that look exactly like this. Two we always said we’d let our kiddo be his own person; clearly arts and crafts are not his thing right now and that’s okay, plus he’s very happy with how it turned out. Three, we promised that when we had kids we wouldn’t be those parents who do their kids’ work for them. It’s his project, not ours.”

Carlos deflates a little. “Those are very good reasons.”

“I know they are.” T.K. walks over and hooks a finger into the waistband of Carlos’ sweats, tugging him close. “And you do too. You’re just blinded by your perfectionism and need for aesthetically pleasing artwork.”

Carlos blows out a breath and tries to release all of the anxiety that’s pent up inside him. “You really don’t think his teacher is going to think we’re bad parents?”

“Babe you bought her like forty boxes of tissues and helped with the Halloween parade and the holiday party. Plus you freaking sewed costumes for the class play when you don’t even know how to sew. I think she likes us just fine.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” Carlos says, running his hand up and down T.K.’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you will be when our son is the first Kindergartener in the history of Maplewood Elementary School to catch a leprechaun,” T.K. teases, making Carlos chuckle. 

His laughter quickly melts away and turns to horror as the words sink in. “Oh god, what if he’s upset that he doesn’t catch one? How are we going to explain that to him?”

“Okay Papa, that’s enough stress for you tonight,” T.K. says with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s go to bed.”

“T.K. he’s already asking questions about Santa, what if he thinks we lied to him?”

“Carlos.”

“Maybe we should tell him in the morning. Be up front with him.”

“Carlos.”

“I don’t want him to think—“

He’s cut off when T.K. grabs his face with both hands, kisses him hard, then looks him directly in the eyes. “If you come to bed with me right now, I promise you will forget all about this.”

Words like that still make his stomach flip, even after all these years together, and he melts into T.K.’s touch. “Oh yeah?”

T.K.’s eyes glint with mischief. “Oh yeah. You, Carlos Strand-Reyes are about to get very, very lucky.”

[janeeyreheresy]

Blanche Ingram

Little developed side characters offer endless possibilities.

Blanche's refusal of Rochester, if it indeed happened, could have been a Persuasion situation. It's not one I prefer personally, I like my Blanche not giving a fuck about Rochester. In fact, I headcanon her as lesbian. One of the scenarios I like to imagine is that she wanted to marry old Roch because she knew of his womanising ways and it didn't matter to her, for she'd be able to have a girlfriend too. (I'll get to the womanising.)

In the grand scheme of things, Blanche doesn't matter at all--she has no bearing on the plot. Nothing would change if she wasn't there, or if her part was reduced. It can be argued that her purpose in the narrative is to provide romantic tension. But why? The story already has plenty of conflict. If the author's intention is to showcase the contrast between a plain governess and an upper class lady like Blanche, then Blanche merely needs to exist as a guest at Thornfield, without having to be a rival love interest for Rochester. That part in the book, the morning after the fire in Rochester's bedroom, when Jane is impatiently waiting to see him, to talk to him, and gets told he travelled to Leas, where people of his class have gathered for a party, and she hears he is popular with the ladies? That's actually brilliant. The realisation of her poor, insignificant governess-y self? The grasping of her foolishness for thinking she could matter to him? It's so... raw. No doubt many of us have experienced something similar. Then Mrs Fairfax tells her of Miss Blanche Ingram, beautiful and accomplished, how she reigned like a queen at a Christmas party at Thornfield seven years ago. You know you have no chance against that. It's powerful, it hits the reader in the feels. Even if the reader doesn't like Rochester. Jane does. This bit alone provides enough romantic suspense for the whole book. The merry company didn't even need to arrive at Thornfield, really, though I'm glad they did. There's so much fun to have with these characters. 

What I'm arguing is, Charlotte didn't have to go as far as having the Roch pretend he was going to marry Blanche, even if she needed Blanche to provide romantic tension. A purely friendly banter between Blanche and Edward, filled with references to their past encounters and inside jokes would have sufficed. "Remember that time we were staying at Gosford Park, and we thought the place was haunted by the ghosts, but it was only Countess of Trentham's snoring?" Followed by laughter. You catch my drift. Not only is Blanche beautiful and classy, she has a history with Edward.

Digression - A Better Man

It still wouldn't paint old Roch in a favourable light, mind you. He still left for Leas without a word, the morning after Jane saved his literal ass. He could have left her a note. Dear Jane, I am called to Leas for a gathering of old friends. I will be back in a fortnight. I will miss our evening conversations. Yours, E F Rochester. But that would not be Edward Rochester, because that would be an entirely different man, a better man, a man who would not house an arsonist under his roof, and that would mean any fire in his bedroom would be only accidental (more on that later). This man would not force a governess to sit in the drawing room with high society--or he would have introduced her as part of a family, demanding they treat her as an equal. This man would not unnerve her so much she'd run out of the drawing room, he would not make her cry, he would not leave her abruptly in the hallway with a sentence unfinished at "goodnight, my", he would not feign attraction to a different woman, a woman Jane cannot compare herself to and win. This man would not lie that he got her a new job across the Irish Sea, forcing her to expose her feelings for him. It would be an entirely different story.

Of course, he as the master of the estate owed her, his employee, no explanation for why he went to Leas. But in that case he should not have allowed them to become so close that she practically looks on him as a friend. And after such a distressing event as a fire in a bedroom--and her saving his life--a note of courtesy would be just good manners. Dear Miss Eyre, thank you for saving me from becoming a well done steak last night. I will be gone for two or three weeks. Keep up the good work with Adele. Sincerely, Rochester.

End Digression - Back to Blanche

I take Jane's descriptions of Blanche with a pinch of salt. When Jane went to Rochester to ask for a leave of absence, he was playing billiards with the younger members of the merry company. Jane describes that Blanche gave her a look demanding to know “what can the creeping creature want now?” But that is only Jane's imagination, Blanche never said anything like that. (Curious that Jane thinks someone finds her creepy. Maybe she stares at people.) All Blanche said was:

“Does that person want you?”

"That person" is cold, but it's not like Blanche is obliged to remember the name of some governess. (Also Rochester didn't see Jane, so had Blanche not alerted him to her presence, Jane would have continued standing there like an idiot.) During the gypsy fortune teller episode, when Jane was fetching wine from the drawing room for Rochester in the library, she tells us Blanche looked at her suspiciously, no doubt thinking Jane was taking liberties. Again, it's just Jane's imagination. We don't know what Blanche was thinking. Even if Jane was right in her impression, well, Blanche could have thought that and so would many people. As far as Blanche was concerned, the person Jane was talking to in the library was the gypsy fortune teller. Of course it would seem weird to Blanche that Jane was getting her wine! If Blanche guessed the gypsy woman was Rochester in disguise--and I like to think she did, and so did the other girls, or at least one of the Eshtons--it was still strange that Jane fetched him wine. Why couldn't he get it himself? Was it so important to him to keep his gypsy play act? But he asked Jane to tell Mr Mason to come to the library to see him--so it means he already dropped the act for everyone else, not just Jane.

Another thing to consider is that Blanche may have wondered whether something was up at Thornfield. She may have wondered why the governess was always sitting with them in the drawing room, when she wasn't part of the company. (She probably wasn't the only one in that.) She may have wondered about Adele, too, was she Edward's child or not? She may have wondered about the newcomer, Mr Mason, how come she had never heard Edward mention him in the seven years she'd known him? 

And another point. That moment when Rochester ambushed Jane in the hall, when she was running away from the drawing room with tears in her eyes after hearing him sing, he was afraid a servant would see them. Was it an Ingrams' servant he worried about? (The merry company brought their own servants with them.) If he was performing an act of potential future husband for Blanche, of course he couldn't risk her discovering how close he got to a governess. I like to think of Blanche's lady's-maid as one who spies for her mistress.

Blanche is the detective of this mystery.

In any case, Blanche is the character with the biggest potential for development. Have her care about something and ta-dah--character development. As I said, I headcanon her as a lesbian ("women are beautiful"), so that already gives me a different angle to her altogether. Whatever Charlotte Bronte intended with her character, Blanche enables me to see Rochester's true awfulness. 

[stregoniconiconii]

I posted 1,444 times in 2022

845 posts created (59%)

599 posts reblogged (41%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@stregoniconiconii

@steveharrington

@lesbianrobin

@sawasawako

@crookedtidalwaves

I tagged 678 of my posts in 2022

#stranger things - 131 posts

#stobin - 53 posts

#platonic stobin - 48 posts

#twilight saga - 47 posts

#spn - 22 posts

#codependent stobin - 21 posts

#pjo - 16 posts

#stobin cat agenda - 15 posts

#<333 - 11 posts

#steve harrington - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#both aware that monsters exist and that the other knows about it and yet still it seems they didn't speak to each other until spring break

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

everyone jokes about kissing the homies goodnight until it’s steve and robin

nah but fr and they’d kiss the homies goodnight every night too wouldn’t miss a bed time ever

35 notes - Posted October 31, 2022

#4

still putting robin in a guest room by season 4 doesn’t make sense. They’re calling steve’s bed “the bed” robin has permanently taken over the left bedside table. Steve is constantly getting on to her about leaving her (empty) glass of water there all day. sometimes Steve puts a hand under his pillow and gets poked by the earring robin spent the last week looking for.

exactlyyyy like thats one of those details that i get tripped up on bc it’s like what do you mean….you place a wall between stobin? a whole wall? sacrilege…like maybe u have ur reasons but why

42 notes - Posted December 5, 2022

#3

actual codependent things I think robin and steve could do because they’re kinda fucked up and traumatised:

this is actually already canon: Steve being self-sacrificing, always putting himself in danger if it means robin (and the others) will be safe. Steve making sure the Russians were focused on torturing him and not robin, being the one to swim down to Watergate instead of anyone else.

I think robin puts off applying to college because she doesn’t want to leave Steve behind in hawkins. this is her own version of self sacrifice: she’s sacrificing her happiness and freedom by choosing to stay in hawkins. she probably feels guilty when she does start sending out applications.

also kinda canon: a little too involved in each other’s romantic relationships. Steve trying to figure out if vickie likes girls through her film choices and where she pauses comes to mind.

a more toxic way this can manifest: trying to protect each other from heartbreak by trying to prevent conflict. icing out romantic interests that they don’t like, stepping into their arguments to try and sort them out for them. very “it’s you and me, me and you, and your friend Steve” energy, but not that cute.

maybe more but these are definitely the main ways it shows up in their relationship

46 notes - Posted September 1, 2022

#2

the reason why steddie fucks so hard is because it’s browneyes4browneyes

61 notes - Posted June 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I was thinking about the head canon of Steve being Italian, through his mom because Harrington is like super Irish, and I have some ideas

first off, I don’t think Steve can speak Italian super fluently. I think his mom was first generation and she worked really hard to sound American and so she didn’t really speak it at home. Steve only heard Italian when his mom was on a long distance phone call with her family back home or when she got homesick and listened to an Italian language radio station. Steve loved hanging out with his mom though, and he loved listening in on her conversations because I know my boy is a little gossip, so he picked up on understanding the language fairly well, but never really got the hang of speaking it

until, when he was like 10 years old and they went to Italy for the summer. his nonna, who he had literally only talked to on the phone, was dying and she wanted her daughter to come back home. she and Steve go together, his dad comes for a couple weeks but then has to go back to work, and they’re there for months, fully immersed. he even spends a month at school with his cousins, who he gets along with pretty well. that’s not to say it was easy at first, definitely not

Steve probably spent the first few weeks there quiet as a mouse just listening to everyone speak. everyone thought he was just a dumb American, chastising his mother for not teaching him their language, teasing him because they thought he couldn’t understand. but they all get surprised when he speaks up when one of his aunts is going in on his mom and he calls her out in actually pretty good Italian. after that, he gets included more, his cousins discover that he’s actually pretty funny besides being American. he still gets teased because his accent needs some serious work, but by the time his Nonna dies and his dad is flying down for the funeral and to take them back to America, he feels pretty damn Italian

he half hopes that he and his mom could stay here, where he has family he actually gets a long with, but his dad’s kinda mad at how native they’ve gone while he’s been gone. now he’s the odd one out and he doesn’t like it. he brings them back to hawkins and issues an Italian ban because he doesn't like not knowing what his wife and son are talking about. and then news about the affair breaks out

see, while Steve and his mom were in Italy, hanging out with family, looking after a sick old lady, and preparing for a funeral, mr harrington was getting dirty with his secretary. so now his mom is paranoid that it will happen again if he gets out of her sights so she ends up going with him on a bunch of business trips. leaving poor Steve alone. and without the practice Steve’s Italian skills go downhill until high school and he starts taking a second language

not many people choose to take Italian, more going for French or Spanish, so it’s a small class. he thought it would be easy for him, since he already knew Italian even if he was out of practice, but this wasn’t the regional Italian his mom and her family spoke, this was The Official Italian Language. so it’s not as easy as he thought it would be but he actually manages to pick it up pretty quickly. yes, Italian is one of his best classes. yes, his accent is still pretty bad

anyway I don't think Steve keeps it a secret that he’s actually pretty good at Italian but not many people know. most of the kids in hawkins are barely passing Spanish or French, the few that are good at languages don’t think of him as someone good at languages so they don’t bother him. it’s not until robin claims she can speak Italian fluently that it even comes up

basically I think Steve and robin gossip in Italian bc they love that only they know what they’re saying. Steve teaches her some of the regional dialect he grew up on, she goes holy shit this means that we can hit up Sicily on our Europe trip and Steve’s very happy about that (because yay best friends trip and also he can visit his family again!)

120 notes - Posted September 22, 2022

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[rad-review-of-gigs]

REAL ESTATE, Hackney Church, London 3/10/24

An autumnal evening sees us picking our way through the gravestones to the elegant entrance of St-John-at-Hackney. Once inside, we’re greeted with the immaculate minimalism of the recent (ish) refurb and the long echoes of church’s centuries old “day job”, and by a growing crowd of music fans of all ages. Architectural and audience vibes set, we’re ready for tonight’s event.

First up, Far Caspian, moniker of Irish singer-songwriter and producer Joel Johnston. Despite at times having to battle with feedback, the six piece kept heads nodding with their understated, almost nonchalant, indie rock. A short break (shout out to the glowing hi-vis guitar techs – a strong look more should adopt) and Real Estate get right down to it with the dreamy strum of “Something New,” the breezy opener from 2024’s “Daniel”, then into “Say No More” from the same album. Both are the perfect vehicle for Real Estate’s greatest strengths, particularly Martin Courtney’s warm, intimate vocals and the weaving, hazy harmonies of Courtney and Julian Lynch’s guitars.

In all, seven tracks from “Daniel” made the cut, including the comfortably familiar “Flowers” and Sammi Niss’ crisp breakbeats of “Freeze Brain”. However, tonight isn’t just about promoting a new release. The set list is perfectly crafted to take us nostalgically through the different eras of their discography. Over the span of close to 90 minutes, Real Estate weaved across their repertoire. From the likes of 2009’s “Suburban Dogs” to 2020’s “Paper Cup”, tracks from every album made an appearance. But it was the bangers “It’s Real”, “Darling” and the latest earworm “Water Underground” that rightly got people on their dancing feet, singing along.

The band’s easy presence is the mark of true experience, of seasoned performers who have spent enough time onstage it feels normal and natural, like home. This isn’t a band about theatrics and bombast, rather one that lets the music do the talking. The crowd were entranced from the get-go, and the sea of recording phones was notable by its absence tonight. As Courtney says early on, it’s all starting to feel a bit spiritual.

Real Estate were as charming as we’d imagined them to be, and their sunny melodies carried us back out into the cooling night. To paraphrase the mighty Pitchfork, the Real Estate effect is like having drinks with your neighbour. It may not be your wildest adventure; “you say goodnight … by the time you get home you’ve forgotten what you talked about, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good hang.”

Real Estate are: Martin Courtney vocals, guitar; Alex Bleeker, bass; Julian Lynch, guitar; Matt Kallman, Keyboards; Sammi Niss, drums. You can find the full set list here and our full photo gallery here.

Words: Charlotte Beckett; Photos: Richard Gray

[corporatespies]

as an irish and american person living in the uk I resent the british empire and also specifically hate england. however as an irish and american person living in the uk I also sympathize the sheer amount of hate random english people get for historical english atrocities because people do the same thing to me re: america. I as an irish person do not want to identify at all with the english. Life is weird and sometimes everything sucks and also I think things would generally be better if everyone in some sort of fucked up global exchange system was yeeted to a random country for at least two calendar years but none of their paperwork was done for them. I have had three drinks and shouldn't be making a tumblr post. So many people are incapable of nuance, critical thinking or not just being weird and mean about things they know nothing about or if anything have read like, two news articles on and "absorbed" information via some kind of magic internet/movie/tv osmosis and I regret to inform you this doesn't really count. I don't have a conclusion or really much to add except that I feel weird and bad all the time for a multitude of reasons including the history of colonial violence that has plagued my family and also the imperialist violence that our recently adopted home nation is wreaking upon the world as we speak but there's nothing to be done except being contentious, learning, being patient and trying to help the world in my own small way. except I also want to scream about it all and I do not want to be patient when people say things to me that make no sense at all, as if my family hasn't had its shit rocked by colonial violence and as if I have the personal phone number of Joe Biden, who listens to me, a person with all the answers. Thank you and goodnight.

[notemily]

1. "This kid got a sincere compliment from a beautiful upperclassman when he was a freshman and promptly signed his entire self over to that guy for the rest of eternity, and he’s not going to let death or mind control keep him away." Best metaphor to describe Wen Ning

2. I love the amount of research put into "is this a dick joke"

3. I also ctrl-F AO3 to get to the spicy bits (I use a different word)

4. "Given that Chinese and wordplay go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong," <- I cackled

5. I think of Drunkji keeping his swordfighting skills as being along the same lines as that line from Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai: "If a warrior's head were to be suddenly cut off, he should still be able to perform one more action with certainty." (I am aware that this probably comes from the Book of Samurai originally but I know it from Ghost Dog, okay, also if this post gets one more person to watch that movie then I have succeeded in life.) Lan Wangji's cultivation is so great that he doesn't actually need to be sober to kick your ass.

6. "Maybe he’s getting regular doses of qi from Jin Guangyao, if you know what I mean." NOT A SHIP I WANTED TO THINK ABOUT TODAY

7. Finally, the version of "Try a Little Tenderness" that I'm familiar with is ALSO the Commitments one and I had the drunk Irish dude (Andrew Strong) singing it in my head the moment I read your header for that section. Superior version, flawless soundtrack, I love the 90s, thank you, goodnight.

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 36 part one

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)  (whole thing on AO3)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!  

Lan Wangji’s alcohol tolerance has improved considerably since the last time he got drunk with Wei Wuxian; this time he does not face plant onto the table. He’s still totally hammered after a single drink, though. Lan Wangji doesn’t do anything halfway. 

Wei Wuxian maneuvers him into their inn room (which does appear to have a second bed, alas) making the same vocalization that people in cdrama seem to use to settle skittish horses, and puts him into bed.

…Fully clothed, because the hair & costume department ain’t got time to be re-doing anybody’s outfit, we’ve got a schedule to keep here, people, let’s move!

The last time Wei Wuxian put a drunk Lan Wangji to bed, they were kids and he laid him down like a sack of potatoes. 

This time he cradles his head, holds his hands, tucks him in, and comes within a censor’s breath of kissing him. 

He’s obviously got a lot of feelings for Lan Wangji at this point, and I think he’s sort of aware of the nature of those feelings, but he is still not clear about what’s going on in Lan Wangji’s head and heart. So he continues to slap a veneer of playfulness over the deeper stuff that’s going on underneath…mostly.

(more behind the cut!)

Keep reading

[unknowntoyou2205]

Innocence taken (1/2)

Info: Thomas Shelby has been the sole carer for his baby sister since he returned from the war, meaning that he has always been overly protective of her. At age 16, she tries to be more independent without the help of her brothers but when she gets attacked one night, she ends up pregnant and when her brother finds out, he doesn't realize that it wasn't by choice, and regrets it when Polly tells him the bad news.

Season: 1

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x sister reader, Shelby clan x sister reader

warnings: Mentions of rape

Part 2

The Garrison was practically empty as it neared closing time. Tommy Shelbys youngest sister y/n, laughed as she talked to Grace, cleaning up the counter. Grace placed some empty glasses on top of the bar counter as she cleaned up some of the tables that were empty. The two looked up when they heard the back room opening, seeing Tommy coming through. He nods at Grace before turning to his sister as she moved from behind the counter.

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"Y/n, let's go home." Tommy stated, heading to front door as he lit a cigarette he had placed in his mouth.

"I'm helping Grace close up tonight." Y/n stated, not looking at her brother as she wiped down a table.

"No your not." Tommy stated, turning to look at his sister.

" Yes I am." Y/n stated, looking up at her brother with an annoyed look.

"Y/n Shelby......."

"I'm not a kid Tommy, I'm capable of walking home on my own." Y/n stated, moving towards her brother in intimidation

"Your under my control until your eighteen y/n so I suggest you come with me or I swear I will fucking drag you home." Tommy threatened, moving closer to y/n as she took a step back

"Finns eleven and you let him walk around on his own. What's so different for me?" Y/n asked, crossing her arms.

Tommy looks at Grace who was stood behind the counter watching the Shelby siblings argue.

"Listen y/n, your a girl, who has little to no idea on how to protect herself. I just want you to be safe." Tommy sighed, stubbing his cigarette in a an ash tray before placing his hands on his sisters upper arms.

"Fuck that Thomas, I'm well capable of looking after myself." Y/n spoke confidently, shaking her head in disagreement.

"Mr. Shelby if I could, I think y/n is capable of walking home on her own, she's took care of drunk men in here on the daily. On her own may I add." Grace piped up from where she stood, causing Tommy to turn his gaze to the Irish woman with a glare.

"Tommy please, trust me." Y/n pleaded, placing a hand on his arm as he turned his gaze back to his sister

"Of course I trust you sweetheart, it's others I don't." He tried to explain, placing a hand on her cheek gently

"I promise to be careful." She smiled softly, causing Tommy to sigh and shake his head

"I want you back before midnight, any later and I won't let you do it again." Tommy stated reluctantly causing y/n to smile widely.

"Thanks Tommy." Y/n smiled, hugging him quickly before leaving to the back room.

"She's a good person." Grace stated, looking at Tommy as he stood still for a moment.

"It's those around us who aren't" Tommy stated, taking out a cigarette once again.

"She has you wrapped around her little finger." Grace spoke daringly, watching as Thomas glanced at her

"Ah." Thomas nodded, opening the door.

"Goodnight Mr. Shelby." Grace called back before silence consumed the pub floor.

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Y/n sighed and gave a yawn as she started walking towards her home from childhood. The streets were relatively quiet since majority of it's residents gone home for the night. Taking a turn y/n slowed down when she heard something. Looking behind her, she sees nothing so decides to keep going when suddenly, she's grabbed from the side. She tries to scream but a hand is placed over her mouth as she's pulled further into an alley way. Looking up at her attacker, her eyes widens when she sees the eyes of the drunk man who had grabbed her.

"Goodnight Grace." Y/n called out as she and Grace parted ways after locking up for the night.

"Night y/n, be safe walking home." Grace nodded to the young girl before leaving y/ns sight.

"Hey pretty girl, let's have some fun." He said before pushing her into the wall, forcing himself onto her as she tries to fight him.

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Tears in her eyes, y/n didn't say anything as the man fixed himself up and left her in the dark. Sniffing slightly, she placed a hand over her mouth to silence the sobs that left her body as she realized what happened.

Gaining composure, she slowly walked him, a look of terror as she kept looking around her. Her hair and clothes were all over the place as she held her shoulders, trying to keep the sleeve of her dress which ripped up for modesty.

Turning the corner to her childhood home, she groaned as she seen a glow of light in the sitting room when she opened the door. She froze when she seen it was Tommy, who had stayed awake to make sure she got home safe. Turning towards the stairs, she cringes as she hears her brother calling out to her, but ignores it as she heads to her room, closing the door.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Tommy knocks on his sisters door before opening it when he doesn't hear anything. Sighing in relief, he seen her lying on her bed with her back towards the door. Satisfied that she was home he nodded his head before leaving, closing the door behind him not knowing y/n was still awake with tears falling down her cheeks as she cried softly.

"Y/n?" Tommy called out, moving out to the hall in confusion when she doesn't answer him.

"Y/n" He tried again, moving to the bottom of the stairs and making his way up the stairs.

-----------------------

-----------------------

Two weeks after the incident, y/n was still struggling with that night. Every little noise she heard caused her to jump and feel uneasy. She avoided walking in the dark as much as possible, going as far as taking the early shifts in the Garrison instead of the late ones. She avoided close contact with her brothers as much of possible, not evening sneaking into Tommy's room as she always did from a young age since the war, a tradition which eased both her and her brother that they were home and safe, instead opting to stick around Polly and Ada when she was home.

Arthur and Tommy sat at the kitchen table when she made her way done the stairs, yawning as she reached the bottom stairs. She froze when she seen the two boys sitting at the table before looking at Polly as she walked into the kitchen from the living room where Finn was.

Y/n smiled weakly and grabbed the piece of toast that was left on the table before nodding and leaving quickly. Tommy watched with squinted eyes as his youngest sister left the house before moving towards the window, watching her cross the road and head the direction of the Garrison.

"Morning love." Polly smiled at her as she turned off the stove which held the breakfast for the morning.

"Morning Pol." She smiled softly, hiding the nausea which started to come up at the smell of the bacon.

"Want some breakfast?" Her aunt asked as she plated the breakfast.

"Not hungry." Y/n replied, eyeing the plates Pol placed in front of Tommy and Arthur.

"Y/n sit done and eat some breakfast love, we haven't seen much of you lately." Tommy tried, moving the chair beside him out before patting it for her to sit.

"I have morning shifts in the Garrison so I better get going." Y/n stated as she grabbed her coat from the hanger.

"Take some toast at least." Polly chimed, grabbing a piece of toast from Tommy's plate and throwing it in the girls direction.

Tommy and y/n had always been close, both before and after the war. When the Shelby boys had told their family that they would be leaving to fight in the war, y/n, at the young age of 12 had burst into tears and clung onto her second oldest brother, refusing to let go causing Polly and Ada to forcibly pull her off him so Tommy could leave. Tommy was heart broken seeing his sister like that and when he had returned he decided to become the carer of his younger sister. The two always done things together so to have y/n not wanting to be near him or talk to him pained him. She was his light, the main reason for getting up everyday.

"Tommy something ain't right with her." Arthur stated, turning his attention to Tommy as he looked out the window.

"Pol has she said anything to you?" Tommy asked as she moved away from the window and took a puff from his cigarette.

"She's probably just not feeling well, you know how she gets when she's close to her time of the month." Polly stated, sitting at the table and grabbing a cigarette from the open packet on the table.

"No it's not that, she's never been one to be away from one of us, she craves some form of affection from us whenever were close by." Tommy explained, breathing out smoke with a shake of his head, "Now she tries to avoid us like were the fucking plaque." He continued, leaning on the back of a chair.

"I'll talk to her" Polly stated with a nod, knowing that even though he would never say, it was hurting Tommy that his sister didn't want to be near him.

"Come on Arthur, let's get John before we head to work." Tommy spoke, stubbing his cigarette butt and moving away from the table while he rolled his shoulders. "Let me know how y/n is Pol." He finished behind his shoulder before leaving the house, heading towards his car.

----------------------------------------------------

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Y/n sighed as she headed home from the garrison. Entering the house she rubbed her eyes in tiredness before heading towards the kitchen where Finn was sitting at the table. She smiled at her younger brother and ruffled his hair affectional when she passed him.

"Hey Finn." She smiled softly at him as she sat across from him.

"Hey y/n." The boy smiled back as Polly came in.

Y/n looked up to greet her aunt only to see a hard look on her face.

"Finn, go into the living room, I need to talk to your sister." She stated, pointing to the door.

Finn looked between his aunt and sister who nodded at him to do as he's told.

"And no eave dropping." Polly shouted at him as he closed the door.

--------------------------

"What's this about?" Y/n asked in confusion as Polly sat in front of her.

"I heard something, and I want to hear it from you, no lies, just the truth." Polly stated as she put her hands together in front of her.

"About what?" Y/n asked in clear confusion.

"Where were you today?" Polly asked, noticing as y/ns breathing hitched.

"At work."

"Not all day you weren't. Ada was at the garrison and said you left early, which isn't like you. So, where were you?"

"Pol, please." Y/n pleaded softly.

"Y/n where the hell were you?" Polly asked, her voice raising slightly.

"The doctors okay." Y/n snapped, throwing her arms out in front of her. "I went to the doctors." She finished quietly as she looked down.

"Why?"

"I don't see how that is any of your concern...."

"Y/n Shelby, your 16 years old, you don't go to something like the doctors unless me or Tommy know, so why were you at the doctors." Polly asked in a stern voice.

"I was late. I kept getting sick, I didn't know what to say so I went on my own." Y/n replied in weak voice, causing her aunts face to soften.

"Jesus Crist y/n, your not pregnant are you." Polly asked in shock, being proved right when y/n started crying.

"I don't know what to do, I didn't want it." She stated, shaking her head rapidly.

"You mean your were....." Polly asked, not able to finish the sentence.

"I couldn't stop it Pol, I tried but he was too strong, I couldn't." Y/n explained as sobs escaped her lips.

"Oh y/n, sweetheart." Polly rushed out of her seat and pulled y/n into a hug, petting her hair as she shook with her tears.

"I couldn't stop him Pol, I tried, I really tried." Y/n stated, pulling away slightly.

"Hey hey, none of this is your fault, okay, what that bastard did to you was not your fault so don't you dare blame yourself okay." Polly shushed the young girl, rubbing her arms when they pulled apart.

Y/n sniffed and wiped her eyes .

I don't know what to do Pol, I don't think I can be a mother." Y/n spoke with a shaky voice

"You don't have to be, I know someone who can help you alright. This can all go away." Polly soothed her youngest niece, tucking some hair behind y/ns ears.

"Do I have to tell Tommy?" y/n whimpered slightly

"No, no one will know. It will be like it never happened."

"But it did, it's stuck in my head like a record on replay."

"It will get better y/n, time will heal." Polly stated, not knowing that the youngest of the Shelby's had heard everything.

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Tommy sat in the back room of the garrison, smoking a cigarette as he waited for Grace to bring him the drink he ordered. He looked up to the door when he heard the sound of frantic feet before the door slammed open, the youngest Shelby coming into view.

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"Finn, what is it?" Tommy asked, watching as his youngest brother fidgeted in his position.

"It's y/n." The younger boy spoke uneasy.

"What about her? Finn, what's wrong with our sister?" Tommy asked, placing a hand on Finn's shoulder to get him to look at him.

"She's, she's pregnant Tommy." Finn relayed, not remembering the vital information of how it happened.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Tommy asked, enraged about the new found information.

"Tommy your drink." Grace called out.

"Don't fucking need it." Tommy cursed abruptly at the bar maid before storming out of the bar, the locals watching him leave before looking at Finn who just ran out to follow his second oldest brother.

--------------------------------

Polly looked up from her position on the couch as she heard the door slam open. She placed a finger to her lips when she seen it was Tommy before caressing y/n's hair gently as she lay with her head in her aunts lap. Tommy sighed and moved in front of the two women.

"Y/n wake up, now." Tommy spoke as he shook his sister harshly.

"Tommy for fuck sake leave her alone." Polly told him as y/n opened her eyes with tiredness.

"Stay out of this Pol, y/n my office now." Tommy pointed to the women as he spoke to them.

"Jesus Christ Tommy can you just calm down and leave her be. What's this about?" Polly asked, holding y/n as she steadied her niece to a seating position, still half asleep.

Never you mind what this is about Pol, this is between me and y/n." Tommy stated, grabbing y/ns elbow and dragging her to his office.

Y/n stood at the door even after the door was slammed in her face before breaking down in tears. She leaned against the door and covered her face as she realized that her brother had called her a whore and really believed that she would just sleep around.

"Tommy, your hurting me." Y/n winched as she frantically tried to get him to let go of her.

"Sit down." He stated, ignoring her as she pushed her into his office and closing the door behind them before moving to his seat.

"What's going on?" Y/n asked, looking at her brother in nervousness.

"I heard something which I didn't like the sound of, and I'm hoping you can confirm that what I heard was a big misunderstanding." Tommy spoke as he lit a cigarette and placed it in his mouth.

"Well, what did you hear?" She asked shyly, moving uncomfortably in her seat.

"One of my sisters are pregnant, and I want to find out who the fucking guy was." He stated, leaning on his desk as he sat up. y/n looked up at him in fear. "Well y/n, who was it?"

"Tom..."

"Fucking answer me y/n, who was he?" Tom shouted causing y/n to flinch involuntarily

"It's not what you think?" Y/n tried to explain.

"Just tell me who it was y/n?"

"I don't know." She spoke, looking down in shame.

"You don't know. You fucking sleeping around y/n huh. You a fucking whore now eh?" Tommy screamed at his sister.

"No it's not like that." Y/n cried, looking up at her brother as he stood up and threw glass to the wall ,causing her to flinch.

"No? Cause the way I see it I have a 16 year old sister who's a fucking whore, and letting men take at advantage of her but didn't think of the possible outcome and is now fucking pregnant."

"Tommy please...." Y/n begged, not able to look at her brother in shame.

"Just get the fuck out of my sight y/n, I don't want to see you right now." Tommy stated, opening the door and grabbing y/n by the shoulder, pushing her out before slamming the door in her face.

"Y/n?" Polly asked cautisly, seeing her youngest niece in tears at her bothers office door.

"Can we go tomorrow Pol? I just want this nightmare to be over." Y/n pleaded as she looked up to her aunt, her eyes full of tears.

"Yeah, we can go tomorrow." Polly smiled softly at the young girl, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and rubbing her arm gently "Come on, let's make you a nice warm bath and then straight to bed, we have a busy day tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" Ada asked, coming into the hall, looking in confusion when she seen her sisters tears.

"Come help me with your sister Ada." Polly spoke as she helped y/n up the stairs "She needs you right now." Was all she said before leaving into the bathroom to start the bath.

[emilvr]

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° genshin men + terms of endearment

a little bit of a twist on terms of endearment .. in irish !! (｡・‧̫・｡).*＊♡ so sit back and let me ramble away about my native language <33 if u would like some more/want to ask/talk to me about irish feel free to type smth in my inbox !!

warnings: mentions of blood in childe’s

characters: kaeya alberich, diluc ragnvindr, albedo, zhongli, childe, xiao, thoma, ayato

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ kaeya alberich

now hear me out on this one .. will absolutely call you “a rúnsearc” which can literally mean “my secret love” but is also a very passionate way of saying beloved <3 is so person that .. in my family you only ever say it to a person you love so much that it hurts you in a way. that loving them is second nature to you, so when you are upset with each other it causes a little rift deep in your soul ….. ｡ﾟ(ﾟ∩´﹏`∩ﾟ)ﾟ｡

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ diluc ragnvindr

my beloved he would call you “mo mhuirnin” which translates to “my little darling” and is a more formal phrase !! diluc would use it so hesitantly because he’s always fearful of scaring you off and coming off as too strong (◍ ´꒳` ◍) the word mhuirnin and him go hand in hand and he gives you a soft kiss on the cheek every time he says it ^__^

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ albedo

“a ghrá geal” which means my bright love !! ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡ he is a sweetheart truly and treats you very soft and delicately and is just enamoured with you and everything you do !!! and he believes to be much less bright and kind than you are so this nickname fits perfectly for him <3 like a little cecilia up on the cliffs of mondstadt, he treats you with such gentleness and love that you flourish under his touch and bloom into the prettiest and brightest flower <3

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ zhongli

“mo shíorghra” which means my eternal love, quite fitting for the once god of geo (⺣◡⺣)♡* it’s also most often the term used for soulmates !! i was taught as a child that soulmates were to look after one another and count on each other, much like the boulder of support zhongli is. he’s the voice of reason in many ways, the one to calm you down with a hand on your shoulder or to convince you to take a small risk for your own well-being. with a. graceful touch to your cheeks, shoulders, collarbones — zhongli will remain the chance you took in opening up your heart and letting him rest inside it, peacefully.

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ childe

“a stor” my treasure <3 also side note goose in irish is “gé” and the first time he hears it he laughs his ass off because it sounds like gay when will i ever know peace. (¬_¬)ﾉ

you shine bright like the glittering gold of mora, twinkling even in the darkest of places. crawling from the cold depths of the abyss, you are the nurturing warmth that blankets him in what used to be. in the gentle naivety that ajax held, trembling with his blunt dagger in the midst of the snowy forest he knows so well. now when he strikes foe after foe, their blood spilling in splotches against his clothes, the warming radiance of your smile slides a gentle comfort across his back

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ xiao

this is solely for minnie sorry. “mo cuishle” my pulse <33 the choice of letting his walls crumble a little around you has brought the feeling of life flowing through his veins, your infectious grin and life force driving against the karmic debt that wraps around his lungs every breathing moment <3 you are his angel, his life force and calling you his pulse seems the most fitting to him <3

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ thoma

“cushlamachree” vein of my heart (੭ु ›ω‹ )੭ु⁾⁾♡ essentially, you two cannot be without the other <3 despite how far away you are from home, you will always remain beside thoma. you aren’t the most memorable of lovers, such as romeo and juliet, but you two fit together and that’s all that matters. you have sharp edges where you lose your temper and get too easily annoyed, but you have you soft nooks and crannies where you always smile softly before giving him his goodnight kiss <3

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ ayato

classic, gentlemanly ayato goes with “mo chroí” my heart <3 definitely makes the girls at the estate swoon ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)˚๐*˟ ♡ kisses your palm and offers you to hold onto his bicep when you two walk together <3 and when you’re in private, he turns into the ayato and talks your ear off about the geography of inazuma and the history of the raiden shogun, and acts like a complete and total nerd <33 brings you small trinkets from his missions and always asks you to look after yourself when he leaves <3 brushes his hair late at night and you braid it just the way he likes, without him having to tell you how !! (his heart just knows … you know hehe)

[spickerzocker]

Moscow Cossack Choir - Ojsja ty ojsja

Goodnight, Texas - Dry Heat

Slayyyter - Butterflies...

BODYWORX - Pop That Booty

Mcginty - Marching Inland

Mean Mary - Merry Eyes

Hillary Klug - Cotton Eyed Joe

Maneskin - MARK CHAPMAN

The Irish Rovers - The Jolly Roving Tar

Nina Chuba - Mangos mit Chili

Tagging @therogueduchess, @yogsothott, @nullcodes, @tlbodine, @thefreelanceangel, @prismatic-bell, @collapsinghorizons and anyone else who sees it and wants to have a go :D

The rules are shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and list the first 10 songs that play, then tag 10 people

Tagged by @six-demon-bag and @hiddenxplaces-blog ✨

1. Rachael by She Wants Revenge 2. Shiny by Weird Wolves 3. Stay Dead by Aviators 4. Ordinary Human by Aviators 5. Salt by Eivør 6. Hell Has an Elevator by Aviators 7. Black Magic by Digital Daggers 8. Cities in the Distance by Aviators 9. Overdrive by Weird Wolves 10. So Human of You by Shireen

No pressure tagging: @zemos-bathrobe, @ithilien-wolf, @andromedaholic, @eternalergo and @corffiser

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Four / Irish Coffee

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

W/C: 3k

Warnings: alcohol, language, sexual harassment, physical fighting, Javi is a legend for this chapter/next lmao, reader wears makeup and heels but clothing is otherwise not described

A/N: HI I’m gonna forgo summaries for this series from now on, if anyone has an issue with that pls lmk and we can go back to it, I’m just sick of using like the same summary lmao! Hope you guys like it, idk when chapter 5 will come but somewhat soon!

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist

Irish coffee: a cocktail consisting of hot coffee, Irish whiskey, and sugar, stirred, and topped with cream. The coffee is drunk through the cream.

Four nights after you first kissed Javier, and now many kisses later, Javier insists he take you to the one place he knows in D.C.: a nice bar in the downtown area. You’d spent the days visiting museums and monuments, giving him a tour of the Georgetown campus too. He’d hum along to the radio in your shitty car while you drove place to place. He surprised you with how much modern music he knew.

If the past four days have been getting to know Javier, privately becoming acquainted with each other’s minds and lips, tonight is some kind of grand exposition. Your brief whirlwind of a romance has been contained to your coffee shop and small restaurants off the beaten path. Javier is a well-connected man; he’s sure to know people downtown. From what he’s explained to you, he’s somewhat of a powerhouse in the DEA. Everyone downtown knows a version of the man, who goes by Agent Peña, but all you know is your Javi, your Javi who kisses you goodnight after buying you cupcakes, who drinks your peppermint mochas like it’s the nectar of the gods.

So, it’s safe to say you’re nervous. If he’s bringing you somewhere where he will know people, which he offhandedly told you, you’re going to be the living legend’s date for the night. As you stare into the mirror, your brow furrows in concentration, drawing a line across your eyelid with a pencil of kohl, your phone rings on the vanity in front of you. It makes you jump and the eye pencil drag upwards across your eyelid- most definitely not where you intended it to go. “Fuck!” you shout in annoyance and toss the pencil down. When you pick up, your voice shows your frustration. “Hello?” You ask sharply.

“Hey, abejita,” a smooth voice answers: who else but Javier. 

“Hi, Javi,” you sigh as you press the button, moving the call to the speakerphone. “You made me fuck up my eyeliner.”

“Sorry. Just calling to talk.”

His words make you smile and your ears feel warm as they rush with blood. You aren’t picking him up for another hour. “What, you couldn’t wait that long to talk?” You ask him, biting down on your painted lips with a smile. 

“No. I’m bored and I miss you.” It’s true, he thinks to himself. He hasn’t seen you all day. After spending the last three days in nearly 24-hour contact, he misses the sound of your laughter and the way your soft lips feel pressed against his stubbled cheek. 

“Well, I suppose it’s been…” you trail off as you calculate, “about 20 hours since I’ve seen you. I”m practically going through withdrawals,” you laugh, and it makes Javier’s chest warm to hear that beautiful sound, even through the tinny receiver of the hotel’s phone. “You know, if you have a cute nickname for me, I need to have something equally cute for you.”

“There’s a difference, abejita,” Javier teases, opening the hotel window to smoke out of. “You’re cute. I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“I am many things, little bee, but I am not cute,” Javier chuckles as he sticks the cigarette between his lips and lights it up.

“Well, I think you are,” you refute in a stubborn tone. “You bought me cupcakes on our first date. That’s cute. You come to my work and bring me treats and kiss me in front of my coworkers. That’s cute too.”

Javier shakes his head. Sure, the things could be classified as cute, he supposes, but they’re not the normal Javier. Sexy, rude, intelligent, any of those words could describe him. He’s a playboy, a heartbreaker, and all in all is, by principle, a lone wolf. Well, he was. He’s been chasing Escobar for years and years… and now he’s dead. Maybe he can allow himself to start anew, and this new beginning has to have you in it.

He takes a slow drag from the cigarette, getting lost in his own thoughts and forgetting to answer. The silence makes you suspicious. “Javi? Did I lose you?”

The words snap him back to reality. “No, I’m here. I’m sorry, I… zoned out there.”

“Good,” you smile as you wipe off the messy eyeliner and apply a new, perfectly winged layer of the dark makeup. “I suppose I’ll just have to see what comes. Nicknames have to be earned, not given. Did you ever have any nicknames when you were little?” You ask as you brush a sparkling powder over your eyes.

Javier thinks for a second, almost to the point where you have to ask again if he’s there. That seems to be Javier’s biggest flaw so far. “No, not really. Sometimes the other kids would call me Peñita. Didn’t like that one,” he chuckles, and you can hear air rush past the microphone as he exhales the smoke into the ever-darkening D.C. sky. “My mom had all kinds of names for me, but they were the things you’d call a little kid.”

You nod, then realize he can’t see you and you need to speak. “That’s cute. Tell me about your parents,” you ask him as you continue to brush various makeup products across your face.

Javier shakes his head. “That’s more of an over-drinks topic, I think.”

“When have you ever held back information from me?” You scoff lightly, as if you’ve known him a thousand years. It hits you as you say it, the whirlwind this entire thing has been. You’ve known Javier for five days, and he’s already everything to you. And he’s going back to Colombia in 3 weeks. It makes your heart sink in your chest, and anxiety creeps in, the realization that he might not be falling as quickly as you are. Maybe it’s time to pull back a little, you tell yourself. He won’t be here long.

“Ha,” he says dryly and takes another drag from his cigarette. “Well, I’m ready when you are, if you want to come get me a little earlier.”

His emotionless tone makes you panic. You wonder if you just went somewhere you shouldn’t have by asking about his parents, if you’ve just crossed some line you didn’t know existed. You desperately want to ask him, to reassure yourself and get rid of the worry slowly collecting in your gut, but you don’t. You can’t. You shouldn’t. “I’m still getting ready,” you tell him, and it’s truthful. “I’ll be there at 7, like we said. Is that alright?” you ask. 

Javier blows a breath of smoke into the night, the cloud of smoke mingling with the heat puff of his breath. “Sounds good to me. I’ll leave you alone to get ready,” he tells you with a small smile.

“Alright. I’ll see you then. You’re wearing something nice, right?” You clarify one last time. 

“Whatever you wear will be beautiful on you. Don’t worry about it.” Javier, ever the king of flattery, looks down and appraises his own outfit. “But yes, I’m wearing something nice.”

You smile at the reassurance, looking down at the swirling colors of your makeup palette. “Well, thank you. I’ll see you in a bit.” -

You have to say you’re surprised at the level of refinement of the hotel. You’d expected the DEA would’ve put Javier at some shitty little hotel, but it’s surprisingly nice. You remember a few days ago, the sheer terror masked behind a stoic face, but you chuckle as you consider that this famed agent had very few context clue skills. This hotel is nice, a couple of stars at least. Why would they put him here if they were firing him?

Javier stubs out his cigarette in an ashtray when he sees your car approaching, straightening his sport coat. You hold back a grin as he walks over, but the fighting ends when you see him smile as he opens the door and slides in. 

“Hi,” you beam at him, and he leans across the center console, stealing a kiss.

“Hey.” He sneaks one more kiss, one that lasts a little longer and dares to use a bit of tongue. He only breaks away when you do with a laugh. 

“My foot is on the brake right now; be careful but kiss me one more time,” you ask of him with a grin, and he happily complies, cupping your face and kissing you. When he breaks away, your eyes open slowly and you can’t hold in your happiness. “Alright, now we’re going. You’ll have to guide me,” you tell him, and he nods. 

“Sure. You’re just going to go out of here and onto that street to the right,” he says and points the way for you.

Your car follows the path, nodding along to Javier’s instructions. “Jesus, that’s a fancy place. How much does that hotel cost a night?” You marvel as you stare at the gorgeous building in your rearview mirror.  

Javier shrugs. “I’m about to find out. They’re only paying for a few nights for me, then I’m on my own. I’m guessing it isn’t cheap,” he chuckles as he looks over his shoulder. “Or I might switch hotels. Don’t know yet.”

Frowning, you take a turn he’d earlier instructed you to follow. The hotel fades from sight, the dark blue of the December night filling your rearview instead. “Well, I know of a place you could stay for way cheaper.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, adjusting in his seat to face toward you more. “What is that, pretty thing?” He asks, a hand resting on your thigh. 

“Stop,” you giggle and rest one hand atop of his. His fingers are much larger than yours, a fact that makes you shudder as his fingertips find bare skin there. “Pretty thing? That’s weak,” you tease, and Javier just rolls his eyes. “I was going to say you could stay with me, but now I’m not sure,” you say teasingly, eyes locked on the road and most certainly off of Javier. 

His brow furrows. “Well, I can pay you then.”

You shake your head. “Javi. We’re dating… aren’t we?” You ask, the hesitancy creeping into your voice. Now that you say it aloud, you’re not entirely sure that you are. “I mean, I don’t know, I just kind of thought,” you stumble over your speech, word-vomiting out whatever you can to backtrack. 

The man next to you tilts his head, but he nods. “I… I haven’t dated anyone in a long time,” he admits, his fingers starting to slowly grip your thigh rather than rest atop it. “Is this what dating is like to you?”

You nod too, knowing he’s watching you, staring down at the steering wheel. “I… yeah?”

A small smile cracks on his face, making the mustache there twitch softly. “Then I guess I’d say we’re dating. But that doesn’t matter, I don’t want to live in your place rent-free for three weeks.”

“It’s an extended vacation,” you chuckle and bring your hand back to the steering wheel to have two hands for a turn. “Don’t worry about it. I’d like having you around. We’ve already been together nonstop for a couple of days. What’s a little more?” You ask as you look over at him, seeing his eyes soften and his forehead relax from its tightened state. “And besides, any hotel is going to be painfully expensive right now. D.C. during the holidays makes the hotel rates skyrocket.”

He nods as you speak, processing the idea. “Well, do you have a guest room? I don’t want to invade your space, I can sleep on the couch if you don’t, or I can stay in a hotel.”

“Javier,” you chuckle, putting your own hand on his thigh to reassure him. “We’re not moving in together permanently. You’ll stay with me until you need to go back to Colombia, and that’s that.” Your mind has been made up. He can’t argue it, and he knows it from the firmness in your grip on his leg, in the way your body goes rigid as if the words are some formal deal that requires a handshake.

“How do you know I’m not some serial killer who does exactly this to lure you to your death?” Javier asks dryly as he looks over at you, lifting a hand to trace the side of your face slowly.

“Because you’re Javier Peña. Your name was in the newspaper next to Steve’s. You work for the DEA.”

“Some of the guys I work with could definitely be serial killers, that doesn’t discount anything,” Javier grumbles, which makes you laugh and makes him even grumpier. 

“The fact that you said that to me in the first place is my proof, Javi,” you chuckle and pat his thigh softly. “I’m an excellent judge of character. I just graduated from 7 straight years of studying psychology. Remember that?” Javier’s quiet and you know you’ve won. “Then tonight we’ll get your stuff after dinner and get you settled in my place. How does that sound?”

He’s quiet again, studying your face and the way your cheeks move with your lips, the way your brows rise and fall when he’s being ridiculous. He’s just as trained as you are, with 10+ years on you to prove his competence. You like him. You might even love him already, he thinks to himself. Your pretty lips purse at his silence and he finally cracks. “That sounds great, abejita.” Javier leans across the console to kiss your cheek, which makes you shiver softly, like any touch from the man does. “Thank you.”

“Thank me by buying me some drinks, huh?” You tease, turning back to focus on the road. 

-

The bar was nice. Really nice, you learned as you walked in. It projected the essence of Javier to you; naturally, you loved it from the moment you looked around. The room had a low ceiling and wood paneling around the walls, a floor that your short heels clacked upon as you walked to the only open stools- well, only one stool, you realized as you walked. Javier walked behind you, a hand on the small of your back, admiring your legs in the outfit you wore. 

When you finally found the available spot, where you’re now sipping a drink, you’d found that there was only one stool. 

“Do you want to go sit in the restaurant?” You asked Javier as you nodded with your head to the side of the establishment with tables and booths.

He shook his head and pulled out the stool. “You sit. I’ll stand.”

“Javi-”

“Just sit, abejita. I’ve been sitting all day. I can handle a little standing,” he chuckles and kisses your head, gesturing to the stool. When you sit, he smiles down at you and wraps his arms around you loosely from behind. You lean back against his strong chest.

Over the past few days, you and Javier have made infrequent contact, a hug in greeting or in goodbye and plenty of shared kisses. This, however, speaks directly to your touch-starved soul, the way his body practically encompasses you. He orders himself a whiskey and the drink you’d ordered on the first night you met him for you, then continues to stand there.

You crane your head around to look at him, smiling. “I love this place already,” you say, admiring the way you can hear over the hum of the other patrons and the quiet music playing. You’re much more accustomed to places your friends would drag you, where it was more for the cheap drinks than the atmosphere. 

The crow’s feet by his eyes are more pronounced as he smiles at you, but he looks even younger as his lips curve up softly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Shit, is that Peña?” A loud voice calls from somewhere else in the building, and Javier turns, his face falling flat then smiling as he sees the voice behind it. 

“Be right back,” he murmurs and presses a kiss into the top of your head. 

It’s someone he recognizes, that’s for sure, as the man and Javier wrap their arms around each other and firmly pat the other’s back. “No shit! When did you get back to D.C., man?” The other guy asks. “Escobar just died and they’re already sending you back?”

The bartender delivers your drink, and you turn your back to Javier, thanking them and sipping at your liquor. Over your shoulder, you can hear the man and Javier talk shop, about Colombia and their days as DEA trainees, about Escobar’s recent death and Javi’s recent promotion. You glance over your shoulder at him, smiling as he easily talks with the group. You’ve not had the privilege of seeing Javier with his friends- or what seem to be his friends- yet, and he seems fairly social but humble. You appreciate that.

The talking goes on for a while, and you sip at your drink and look around the bar, appreciating the wood that makes a nice noise as your fingernails tap against it rhythmically. 

When your drink is about half-drained, the bartender sets another in front of you. It’s different from what you were drinking, a fluorescent neon color surely made by a mix of ridiculously fruity liqueurs. You look at the bartender with confusion and they nod to a man at the end of the bar. He’s not looking at you, which makes it all the easier to stare at the drink in confusion and disgust rather than drink it. His tie is absolutely egregious, boldly patterned in bright colors. There’s not an ounce of taste about this man.

The drink goes untouched, sitting in front of you as you study it. There seems to be layers, maybe, or maybe the mixed alcohols just congealed awkwardly. You sip your drink and then Javier’s whiskey, refusing to drink whatever fucking concotion sits in front of you.

Five or ten more minutes pass of Javier talking with his friends. You don’t mind- you know the feeling of catching up with people you haven’t seen in a long time. In that time, the drink remains untouched, and you ask the bartender for a refill of your go-to drink.

Not long after the second one arrives, you feel a hand on the curve of your back. You turn, hoping it’s Javier, and instead find it to be the man at the end of the bar who ordered you the drink: Tie Guy. Panic sets in immediately and you arch your back to dodge the hand, which only follows your spine. “Hey. Thought you’d like this drink. You tried it yet?” The man asks, voice clearly showing that he knows you haven’t. 

“No,” you say with a swallow, turning away from him. “Not exactly my style.”

“I thought it was such a pretty drink for such a pretty thing.”

Pretty thing. When Javier called you that earlier, even though the name wasn’t one you liked, it was at least endearing. To hear it again, dripping with sleaze and ill intentions, you shiver and push it further away. “I’m sorry, sir, it’s not my type of drink. My boyfriend will be right back, and-” you try, hating the defense you try to pull.

“He drinks whiskey,” Tie Guy says and gestures to Javier’s ¾ full glass. “No fun. Boring. Too manly, pretentious. Real men can drink something fun like these and not need to worry about someone thinking they don’t have a set of balls,” he says and his fingers trace the rim of the martini glass the concoction sits in. Now you’re definitely not drinking it, now that he’s touched it. 

“Please, I’m not interested,” you try, turning around to face the man that towers over your seated body. “I’d appreciate it if-”

“Hey,” a familiar voice- thank fuck, it’s Javier- calls from behind you. “Excuse me,” he says and pushes Tie Guy out of the way, his arm wrapping around you. It’s a relief, a grip meant entirely for comfort and not for the coercion the man across from you had tried. You melt into it instantly. “She said to back the fuck off, or could you not fucking tell?” He hisses at the man. Javier pulls away from you, stepping towards the man who instinctively steps back.

“Whiskey drinker,” the man snorts and rolls his eyes. “So manly, so over the top. Gotta let everyone know that you’re the alpha, the dominant male, huh?” He asks, getting in Javier’s face. He’s taller than your Javier, but lankier. The fact that Javier could take him crosses your mind, though you hope desperately that it doesn’t come to that.

“What I drink doesn’t fucking matter,” Javier says and shoves his chest. “What matters is that you’re fucking harassing my girlfriend. Back the fuck off,” he says and turns from the man, back to you, his hand on your upper arm. “You okay?” he asks quietly, and you respond with a nod and a forced, close-lipped smile.

“Yep, go ahead, go back to your little prude,” the man laughs drunkenly, his voice full of vitriol. “Oh, no, I bet she loves to act all shy, but then she’s a kinky little thing in bed, isn’t she?” He asks, taunting Javier. “Ties your ass up and whips you, with that sass. I wonder if she-”

The sentence isn’t finished. Javier’s fist flies through the air and connects with the man’s face, followed by a loud, ringing thud as the taller body hits the floor.

-

caffeine rush taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @yooforia @oceanablue @sara-alonso @pedrosmustache @feelingmadclever @hnt-escape @radiowallet @obsessivelysearching @sugarontherims @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @linnie0119 @1800-fight-me @autumnleaves1991-blog @toilet-keeper @evelynseventyr @metalarmsandmanbuns @shannababyy @sambucky21 @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @theorganasolo @jagi-yaaa @mrsparknuts @tacticalsparkles

[arctickat2400]

Don't Leave Me <> Harry Styles

“Just leave.” You heard Harry say to you under his breath.

“What?” You questioned, not believing he would actually say something like that. Tears brimmed your eyes as you stared at him.

You and Harry had a huge fight, one of the biggest ones you’ve ever had. Harry yelled at you, something he wouldn’t usually do. He tried not to get mad at you because he knew how sensitive you were. The fight and the yelling resulted in you packing a bag as you decided to leave for your brother Louis’ house.

You stood at the front door about to leave, but hoping Harry would beg you to stay. But clearly, that wouldn’t happen.

“I said leave, Y/N.” His voice rose with anger. “I can’t do this anymore. So, leave!” He was almost yelling now.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you stared up at him, thinking about how you were seeing this side of him.

“Fine.” You whispered, turning towards the door. You took one last look at Harry, seeing him standing there 5 feet away from you, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trying their hardest not to look into yours.

You ran out of the door, slamming it behind you. You cried your way to your truck, hearing glass breaking and crashing from inside your home. It will always be home. But, right now, Harry was just taking his anger out on it.

Little did you know, Harry was breaking down on the inside and out. He couldn’t live without you, and he was slowly breaking from the inside out.

Slamming your truck door shut, you drove to Louis house, tears still streaming from your eyes.

It was so hard. You just barely left your driveway, and even though you hated the fight you had and you hated what Harry was doing, you missed him so much.

You arrived at your brothers house, parking in his driveway and running into his house. He was already there for you, arms wide open. He saw the tears in your eyes and he knew what had happened.

“Come on, Kitten. It’s just harmless Harry. He’ll be back to normal before you know it. And in the meantime, how ‘bout we order some pizza, maybe invite Niall over and just have a good night.” Your brother explained to you.

“Well, I know I won’t have a good night after what just happened, but okay. Thank you, Louis.” You said to him with a weak smile, trying not to make eye contact. He reminded you too much of Harry.

Louis went to call Niall and order the pizza while you looked for something to watch on tv. Tears kept stinging your eyes and you knew that you won’t stop crying until you’re back in Harry’s arms. You had no clue when that’d be.

Louis came into the living room with you after ordering pizza. You were gonna get pizza from Harry’s Bar Pizza, yours and Harry’s favorite pizza place. But, it reminded you too much of Harry. So, you decided on Tomo Pizzeria, Louis' favorite pizza place. We ordered 2 meat lovers pizzas, everyone's favorite.

As you searched through the channels, Louis sat next to you as you leaned back on him, his arm around your shoulders.

“... Y/N just needs to get her mind off a few things and we were thinking about having pizza night. You up for it?” Louis asked Niall over the phone as we waited for the pizza.

“Most definitely. You know I’m always up for some pizza.” You heard Niall’s cute Irish accent through Louis' surprisingly loud phone.

“Sweet. I know Y/N will be happy to hear it. See you in a few.” Louis hung up the phone as you landed on a channel. The Lion King was on Freeform. Of course, it was your favorite disney movie to watch with Harry and tears started down your cheeks again.

“Oh, Y/N. Please don’t cry. It’s supposed to be a night of no crying. Come on,” He told you, turning off the tv and took your hand in his, lifting you from the couch.

“Lets go pick out some games to play. We have so many laughs tonight that you won’t remember anything that happened before tonight.” Louis suggested, bringing you to the back room.

“I hope you're right, Louis.” You said.

“Y/N, I’m your brother. I’m always right.” He smiled at you. “Yeah, yeah you are.” You said weakly but smiling back.

You chose a few games to play, bringing them to the kitchen table.

Just then, you hear the door open. “Hey, guys. I came bearing pizza.” You hear Niall’s giggly voice as he enters the kitchen. The delicious aroma of your second favorite pizza filled your nose, making you so much hungrier than you ever thought you’d be.

“Niall, did you pay for that?” Louis questioned as Niall set the two pizza boxes on the table.

“Yeah, but it was no problem. I ran into the pizza guy on the way up your driveway so I just decided to help you out. No worries.” Niall smiled. “Oh, and I also went by to get some soda. I thought Katie could use a pick me up.” His never ending smile as he stared at you sweetly.

“Thank you so much, Ni. But please let me pay you back. I feel bad that you paid for drinks and pizza.” You said, walking to the entry table that held your wallet and took out some money.

“No, Y/N, it’s okay.” Niall insisted, walking towards you.

“No, it’s not. Please, it’s the least I can do.” You struggled to look for money, the stress of today’s events and tears building up in your eyes getting to you.

“Y/N,” You heard as hands were set on your shoulders and turned you around. Niall stared you in your eyes with a small but sweet smile.

“It’s okay. Please, it’s fine. Don’t worry about anything. We’ve got you.” Niall told you, bringing you into his embrace. You sniffled, nodding. Niall wiped away a few loose tears as he took your hand and brought you back to the table. Louis had gotten out some plates and set out a game to play.

It was maybe two or so hours later and you were having nothing but fun, just like Louis had said. You guys have been laughing the entire time, mostly at the weird things you were doing throughout the game. You were so out of it that you kept making weird mistakes. You couldn’t stop laughing, your brother and your best friend couldn’t stop staring at how adorable they thought you were.

Just between the three of you, y’all were able to finish both the boxes of pizza and the pack of 6 Pepsi’s.

Later, after finishing two games, it was getting late.

“Thanks for coming, Niall. It really means a lot to me that you’d come here just to cheer me up. And you did.” You smiled to Niall as you, him and Louis stood by the front door.

“Of course, Y/N. I would do anything for you. Though, I also came because there was pizza, I mostly came for you.” All three of you laughed at Niall’s comment.

“Well, thanks anyways. See you later, Ni.” You told him as he bent down at your short stature and brought you into a tight, comforting embrace.

“Feel better, Kitty. Later, Louis. Take care of her.” Niall smiled at you and Louis.

“You know I will.” Louis answered as he smiled back. Niall left as you went to clean up the table.

“Hey, Y/N. I got this. It’s okay. You seem tired. I can take care of this.” Louis mentioned as he began cleaning up.

“Louis…” You began.

“Y/N, it’s okay. Go get some sleep.” You just smiled at how sweet he was.

“Thank you, Louis, for tonight. It really did make me feel better.” You told him, walking to him as he gave you a hug. He kissed your forehead.

“Of course, (Your nickname). Goodnight. I love you.” He said with a sweet smile.

“Love you, too.” You said back as you made your way upstairs. You went into your room that Louis kept for you. You took out some pj’s that you had packed in your bag, and you changed, jumping right into bed. Hoping to find sleep, you closed your eyes.

It was almost midnight and you couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. While you were hanging with Niall and Louis, you were having fun, not thinking about anything but them and taking your mind off the bad things going on. But, the minute you left Louis, you couldn’t hold back the tears. You tried to sleep, but it was nearly impossible. Even being away from Harry for even half a night was just something that you couldn’t do.

You decided that you just couldn’t do it anymore. You had to go back.

You wrote a note to Louis so he wouldn't be worried in the morning. You told him that you’d gone back to Harry. You left it on the kitchen counter, hoping he’d see it when he woke in the morning.

You grabbed your things and headed to your truck, heading home. You didn’t want to be away from Harry any longer.