#I do not reach out I’m not scrolling tumblr or instagram

[wolfiemcwolferson]

.

[jenniekrj]

“I said,delete it.”{Roommate!Dom!Hyunjin x Sub!F!Reader}

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Warnings:Mentions of drinking alcohol and smoking weed,blowjob,fingering,cum play,daddy kink,choking,spitting,riding,unprotected sex,spanking,creampie,oral sex and just straight up filth.

A/N:The tumblr algorithm works on reblogs,so please consider rebloging so it can reach more people,enjoy!! 💖

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Hyunjin has been your roommate for over a year now and it has been great.Sure you didn’t know much about each other,but you still really liked his company around the place.

All you knew about him is that he would often go to parties,come home late at night drunk and high,bring girls over and have the nastiest sex with them,smoke lots of weed and just smoke in general,have parties at your shared apartment and cook really good food.He seemed very popular and like everybody just wanted to be around him.

At some point,all the pornographic moans that came out of his bedroom did annoy and bother your sleep,but his kindness and calm energy made up for all the disturbances.

Last week,he started following your Instagram.All he did was just view your stories and very rarely like anything you post.You guys never chatted on there,but why should you? You have his number and you literally live with the man.

Hyunjin was almost everyone’s type,he was muscular,tall,handsome,funny,smart,he had a few tattoos,charismatic,strong and he was two years older than you.Just your type.

It was your second year of college and you made a few friends,they were the best.On the other hand,Hyunjin had a whole group and there might be more that you don’t even know of.

Every weekend he would invite his friends over and pull an all-nighter with them.You knew his friends since they follow you on Instagram.You only ever said a simple ‘Hey,how are you guys?’ whenever you saw them.

-

It was a Saturday night and you were very bored,all you did all day was lay in your bed.You were thinking of ways to cure your boredom when you suddenly got the idea to post some pictures on your Instagram account,so you got up and picked an outfit from your closet.

After you put the outfit on you posed in front of the large mirror and snapped a couple of photos.You were wearing a baby blue lace mini crop top with a white mini skirt and some knee high socks.

You weren’t lying if you said you dressed this slutty just for Hyunjin to see,you had the most massive crush on the older and it wasn’t just some random crush,it was a sexual type of crush and you couldn’t help it.You posted the photos with the caption, “Is this sexy enough for you?” It was obvious you were trying to get someone’s attention,and it might’ve worked.Not even five minutes later and your post had so many likes and comments,people loved this look,especially Hyunjin.

You were scrolling around on your feed when a notification pops up,it’s from none other than Hyunjin,he sent you a DM.Of course,you rush to his profile and check the DM.

“Delete the post,I saw it already.”

Is all he said.

“What? Who said it was for you?”

You replied back,you wanted to seem hard to get even though this post way mainly for him to see.

“I said,delete it.”

He said before barging into your room.

“You really think I’m gonna let other people see what’s all mine,hmm Y/N?” Hyunjin said as he grabbed you by the arm and pinned you against the wall. “But,we’re not even dating,why do you care?” You replied back,trying to push back the urge to just kiss him right there.Your voice was shaking and almost filled with stutters,but you couldn’t show him your weak side,you wanted to see how far you could push him. “You belong to me,Y/N.I’ve seen and heard how you touch yourself to the sounds of me fucking other women,so don’t act all dumb right now.”

What? How’d he know? How’d he know you get wet by just the thought of him? It’s insane how well he knows you when you’ve barely spoken to each other,but you liked it.

“Mmm,how about you get the fuck out of my face?” You said,trying to seem intimidating,but Hyunjin wasn’t having it. “How about I fuck that attitude out of you? You’d like that,wouldn’t you?” It’s almost like he read you,and you enjoyed everything about it.

“Make me.”

“Bet.”

Was all he replied before smashing his lips onto yours,he pulled you closer into a rough but sloppy kiss and you just let him have you.His hands ran all over your body and your arms were wrapped around his neck,occasionally caressing his face and tangling your fingers in his hair.

Hyunjin moved his lips down to your neck,he slightly bit on your skin only to find your sweet spot,once he had found it he started sucking hard.He grabbed your ass,giving it a few light smacks.

“Get on the bed.” He said after he pulled away,signaling with his head towards your bed.You laid yourself onto your bed,with only your elbows holding you up.

Hyunjin dropped to his knees and kissed all over your inner thigh.You sighed a little before you had realized he was getting higher.He ran his fingers up and down across your clothed clit.He then slid your panties off and almost immediately attached his lips to your swollen cunt. “Fuck,you’re so wet.All for me,right?” Hyunjin said before licking up your folds while maintaining eye contact.You cried out a ‘yeah’ only for him to slap your thighand say “Use your words,princess.” Even though he knows you can’t utter a proper word,he still wanted to tease you a little. “Come on,don’t make me say it again.” Hyunjin says into your pussy which makes your head fall back. “Yes yes! Oh- please just go faster,I’ll do anything for you daddy,please.” You practically scream,not yet processing what you had just said.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Since you’re so nice.”

He said before his tongue thrusted in and out of your pussy.It drove you insane at how good he was.Though,you were expecting this because of how loud the women were whenever he brought them over.

“I- cum please..” you managed to speak as you rolled your hips. “Go on,cum for me like a good slut would.” Hyunjin encouraged you and you came almost immediately after he spoke.You came all in his mouth and all over his face. “Fuck,you taste wonderful.” He praised.

He sat next to only to say, “Get on your knees.” and of course,you did as he said.You almost immediately dropped to your knees and started undoing his sweatpants.Once they were off,your eyes widened at how large he was and he just smirked.

“Too big? Or are you just weak?”

“Don’t fucking call me weak,Hyunjin.”

“Cutie.”

You rolled your eyes and started stroking his dick,he rolled his head back and his right hand went to your head. “Open up.” And you did.

You licked the slit on his tip as he groaned,you could tell how much he enjoyed this.Your eyes started getting watery as you slowly took his whole dick in. “Come on,be a good girl and take all of me.I know you can.” Hyunjin said with a moan coming after his words.

You started bobbing your head as tears fell down each one of your cheeks,even though it hurt you still loved it.His grip on your hair tightened as he moved your head closer to his veiny cock. “Fuck,right there baby.I’m so close.” He moaned out and came right after his announcement.

You felt your mouth get filled with a warm and thick liquid that tasted sweet.You were about to swallow,but Hyunjin stopped you and said, “Open your mouth.” You did as he said and he stuck two fingers in,he moved his fingers all around your cum-filled mouth and soon took them out,only to put them into his mouth and lick all of the cum off of his fingers. You swallowed and got up to sit next to him,but Hyunjin had other plans.He laid down and pulled you on top of him.

“Ride me.”

“What?”

“Come on,don’t run away from it.”

“I’m not,I just..”

“What? What is it,sweetheart?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

“It’s fine,I’ll teach you nice and slow.”

You nodded your head and positioned yourself above his still hard dick and slowly lowered yourself onto him.You gasped at how much he stretched you out and he just let out a dark chuckle. “Hyu-Hyunjin it’s too much.” You stuttered as you breathed out. “I know ma,but you can take,right? Aren’t you a good girl?” He said as he caressed your face. “Ye-yes I am!” You said as you started moving your hips.

“You like that?” Hyunjin said as he thrusted up into you and your response was just moans and whimpers. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckled.You bounced up and down on his dick and all you could think of was how good it felt.

“Go faster,ma.” Hyunjin said after spanking your ass and grabbing onto your neck,basically chocking you.You tried to go faster even though your legs gave up a long time ago,but you went on and soon felt a knot in your stomach.His thrusts were becoming sloppier and you knew he was close. “I’m gonna c-cum,daddy.” You said. “Me too,princess.” Hyunjin said before you both came together.

His cum filled your cunt and now it was oozing out of your heated hole.Once you both came down from your high,you fell down onto him,your head now on his chest.Hyunjin flipped you over,now he was on top of you.He grabbed your jaw and said, “Open up,baby.” He spat in your mouth and you swallowed.Hyunjin leaned down and kissed you,but this time it was a passionate kiss,slow but still somewhat messy.Your tongues moved in sync as his hands slowly massaged your tits.He pulled away,leaving you panting and breathing heavily.

You laid there for a couple of minutes when it hit you that his friends are still coming over in a few minutes.Your eyes widened and you tried to push him off of you. “What’s wrong?” Hyunjin questioned. “Your friends,aren’t they coming?” You looked at him with a slight pout. “Yeah,but that’s nothing to worry about and you said you would do anything,

right my love?”

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[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWO

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni, eddie is especially mean in this one (be warned), mentions of blood (in metaphors, not literal)

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 4k+

→ a/n: i just wanted to take a quick moment to say thank you for all the love on the first chapter of this!! i appreciate it beyond words <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

2:00 ─ㅇ───────────────── 24:00

HOUR TWO - 5:00 PM

It’s a miracle. Eddie is surprisingly quiet for the first hour after your small kitchen dispute. 

He resides reading a book on one end of his couch as you sit awkwardly on the other end, fiddling with your hands before finally caving and deciding to scroll mindlessly on your phone. You exhaust every social media app you have downloaded – Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr – before finally turning to Tik Tok. Adjusting your volume doesn’t even cross your mind. 

That’s all it takes to finally set Eddie off. 

It starts small; he shifts around after the first video, a prolonged sigh after the second video, a quick side-eye after the third video. Finally, after the fourth video and no sign of you turning down the volume, he huffs and snaps his book shut. 

“Do you have to watch that shit so loudly?” 

His tone is laden with utter annoyance. You’re caught off guard initially, having blatantly ignored his previous signs of being irritated by the noise, and your head whips up in his direction with wide eyes. The shocked look on your face quickly contorts when you catch his stare, full of hatred and vexation. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you scoff, “Let me just die of boredom I guess.” 

“I didn’t say you had to do that,” he narrows his gaze and matches your attitude with ease, “Just… solve the boredom quietly. Like I did.” 

“You were quiet because you had a book. I don’t have a book.” 

He waves an exasperated hand towards the coffee table where you catch sight of a few magazines, “Please, take your pick.”

You lock your phone reluctantly, tucking it beneath your thigh as you lean forward to glance over your options. There’s one about cars, obvious by the shiny vehicle that sits pretty on the cover, and a few hidden beneath it. You reach out and shift the laminated papers about and catch sight of a Rolling Stone cover. 

That one piques your interest, but stubborn as ever, you won’t admit it. 

“Those are the most boring fucking magazines I’ve ever seen. Who the hell likes to read about cars?” you deadpan, holding the car magazine up with a scowl. 

“Me.” 

“Predictable. What’s next, a Playboy?” 

“You’re hilarious,” he says without a hint of amusement, “Truly a comedian. Can’t you just see the tears streaming out of my eyes from how hard I’m laughing? Incredible.” 

You decide to not entertain him any further. Your hand grabs the Rolling Stone magazine, ignoring his burning gaze before you settle back into the couch. 

If he wanted to be a dick, that was fine. You were used to it by now; you’d spent the last year growing accustomed to his cold shoulders and his bitter moods around you. At this point, you expected nothing less from him. Spending a little extra time together didn’t magically change it – at both your cores, you harbored a disdain like no other. You fundamentally hated Eddie, and Eddie fundamentally hated you. The confined space, forced proximity, ticking doomsday clock, and promise of cash did nothing to put any notches in those feelings. 

“Interesting choice,” he murmurs under his breath, beginning to relax back into the cushions as well. 

“What? Is it a crime for me to like-” you pause, flipping the magazine shut to check the slick cover for what the specific issue was even about, “-The Ramones?” 

So maybe saying you liked The Ramones was an overstatement. But at this point, you’re only picking a fight for the sake of picking a fight. Because you don’t know how else to communicate with Eddie aside from with a sharp tongue and turbulent sense of sarcasm. Because when it came to the two of you, there was no such thing as small talk. 

Everything was always big. Loud. Screaming matches, bold assumptions, critical insults. 

“Pump the bitch breaks,” his eyebrows furrow, as they always do when he glances your way, “I was trying to be civil.” 

“I didn’t think civil was in your vocabulary when it came to me.” 

He exhales deeply, letting his head fall back in contempt for a moment before he lifts it and looks at you, “Is this really how you want it to be?” 

You don’t reply, and he takes it as his cue to continue. 

“Do you really want to keep up the miserable act the entire twenty four hours? Won’t it get exhausting acting like a spoiled brat for that long?”

“I’m not acting like a spoiled brat,” you snap, the magazine now discarded and draped across your knee, open to a random spread, “As far as I’m concerned, it’s not an act. Make no mistake, Munson, I am only doing this for the cash.” 

His book lays to gather dust on the coffee table as he leans his elbows onto his knees, twisting his body ever so slightly to face you more fully, “Really? There’s gotta be easier ways to make cash. I’m sure if you asked Stevie boy real nicely, he would have let you put that mouth to use for a quick buc-”

You cut him off, because you know how this sentence ends, and it’s too far. He’s crossed a line. You had expected it, should have seen it coming sooner, but it’s crossing a line all the same. 

“Stop,” you firmly instruct, holding up a finger, “Not that it’s any of your miserable business, but me and Steve are not like that. At all. So you can fuck right off with that comment,” you only pause briefly, and you’re glad when he doesn’t interrupt you, “And, may I remind you, you’re also getting payment out of this. I could say the same thing to you, dickwad.” 

It had been a curious itch beneath your skin – you knew why you needed the extra cash so badly, but you had no idea why Eddie did. Beneath all the hate, all the irritation, the question had come to mind briefly. But it had been pushed down by disinterest in all things regarding the man before you. At the end of the day, you didn’t care what motivated him. You didn’t care about what he did for work, you didn’t care about what magazines he read, and you definitely didn’t care to know if the five hundred was as necessary for him as it was for you. 

This was a means to an end – nothing more, nothing less. 

“Dickwad?” His nose crinkles as he parrots your words back to you, “Jesus, did you ever learn any new insults past middle school?” 

You’re ignoring him once more, picking the magazine up off of your knee and burying your nose in an article about the greatest punk albums of all time rather than letting yourself be dragged into further conversation with him, trying to send the message that this discussion was over. 

The message isn’t received. It flies right over his head. 

“Pardon me for the assumption,” you can see him hold his hands up in mock surrender in your peripherals, “You and Harrington just seem close.” 

You should just keep ignoring him. You should actually read the words inches from your face. You shouldn’t say another word; your gut is screaming at you to not say another word.

But you ignore your gut, just as he’d ignore your disinterest in talking to him. 

“What happened to being quiet? I think I liked it better when you weren’t speaking to me,” you try to say casually, keeping an air of indifference. You should have known better. As your mother always said, once you start feeding a stray, they continue to come back. 

“Sounds like it’s a sore spot. Are you and Harrington that close?” 

“Not in that way,” you grit out behind the pages, “We’re close, but not like that.” 

Your answer doesn’t satisfy him like you’d hoped, “Oh, it is so a sore spot.” 

When you finally drop the magazine to properly look at him again, it only fans the anger. He looks smug as he crosses his ankle atop his knee, leaning back and looking you over as if he can read you like cellophane. 

“It’s not,” you stress, “Seriously. Drop it.” 

In all truthfulness, it wasn’t a sore spot – not when it came to Steve. You’d always been strictly platonic, fitting fairly effortlessly into his and Robin’s friendship. 

“You definitely want to fuck Steve.” 

“You know what I actually want right now?”

“Please, enlighten me.”

“To knock your teeth in.” 

The magazine is tossed back onto the table, nearly sliding off the edge from the force behind your throw. He’s relishing the way you’re continuing to get more upset, the way he’s still inching beneath your skin in a grating motion. To him, this is all just a joke. 

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart,” he mocks, smiling with his teeth as if to taunt you. 

“Why did you even agree to this?” you finally turn your body towards his and mirror his position, “Is it fun to you? Is that what it is?” 

The smile widens, “You know what? Yeah. It is fun to piss you off.” 

“Yeah?” you imitate him, putting on a forced smile in an attempt to look as ridiculous as he did right now. You fold your hands and prop your elbows onto your knees, continuing to mock mercilessly as you balance your chin atop them and bat your lashes dramatically, “Please, tell me more. Tell me all about how fun it is.” 

In an instant, you drop the smile and begin to return to your previous position. It was rhetorical – you don’t expect a response, and yet he offers one nonetheless. 

“Well,” he begins, “First of all, the way you go red in the face is fucking hilarious. Seriously, it’s just like the cartoons. Absolutely ridiculous. I think by the end of this, I’ll get to see steam come out of your ears,” you’re already reaching for your phone, tuning him out, as he continues on, “And then it’s the way you’re just so damn easy. I mean, come on. Sometimes, all I have to do is breathe, and it sends you on a tirade. You just make it too simple, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. The nickname is prickly and as uncomfortable as ever, lodging into your ears against your better judgment. It creeps across your brain, travels down your spine, numbs your fingertips. You hate the shockwaves it’s capable of sending down your nerves. 

He’s right, at the end of the day. These days, you hardly put up a fight in expressing all your negative emotions towards him. If necessary, you could pinpoint a time where he really did simply breathe and you had proceeded to curse him out for it. Sometimes, just the sight of him can sour your entire mood. He’s an ever-present, persistent, irritating rain-cloud that looms on the edges of your life by circumstance. You can’t get rid of him. You can’t get rid of your hatred for him; you’ve always had a preference for sunny weather. 

“Careful,” you hum, not looking his way as you glance down at the time that glows from your lock screen: 5:46 PM. “It almost sounds like you enjoy my presence, Munson.” 

Indifference. You needed to practice indifference to survive the next twenty three hours. 

“Oh, that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” he says, “You are the worst part of my days. You’re like bad leftovers – everytime I see you, the bile immediately rises in my throat. Whenever Steve mentions you’ll be somewhere, I cancel plans. Whenever you show up without warning, I start counting down the minutes till I can get away from you.” 

The indifference begins to break. You finally look at him, keeping a steady expression. 

“You could go missing, you could vanish off the face of this earth, and I wouldn't blink an eye. As a matter of fact, I’d probably celebrate. Why my friends are so enamored with you, I will never understand.” 

It hurts. It might be Eddie, and you might be used to his spiteful words he uses as weapons against you, but it still hurts. The sting resembles a slap as you process each of his words. Each deliberate syllable – the specific referencing to the group as his friends and not your friends, the unblinking glare of his dark eyes, the insinuation that your death could bring him joy – drives deeper into your chest. It’s a human reaction; it doesn’t matter if the boy before you is the enemy, it still bruises to hear anyone say such things about you. The human need to be accepted, to be liked, to at least be tolerated, still twists in your gut. 

And he only presses forth. He doesn’t catch the pain spreading in your limbs because you don’t let the hurt raging in your chest spread across your face. You don’t let him see you bleed. 

“I’d attend your funeral with a party hat and sparklers. Confetti, even. The whole nine yards along with my finest bottle of champagne,” he hammers the final nail into a coffin, one that you’re not sure of whom it belongs to. Maybe it’s yours, sealing you six feet under with your cursed emotions. Maybe it’s his, locking him into the tomb to dwell in his ability to always take things too far. 

You won’t let him see you bleed.

You stand abruptly, making him flinch in the slightest. You keep your face turned from him as you take your phone and storm off into the hallway wordlessly. 

“Hey! Where are you going?” he calls after you. 

But he’s not following you. No footsteps echo your own as you turn into the only other doorway aside from the bathroom. 

He has a clear line of sight of you from the couch, and he can see you disappear into his room. 

The door slams shut behind you with a riveting bang. Your nimble fingertips fumble with twisting the lock into place, chest heaving as you finally let your eyes burn. 

He can’t see you. You finally bleed. 

The tears are feverish as they roll down your cheeks one by one, taking slow steps backward as you squeeze them shut and will them away. There are no accompanying whimpers, or sobs, or hiccups. It’s just you, the salty streams, and the now overwhelming scent of him.

He’s only managed to make you cry, make you bleed this way, once before. The night of Steve’s party, the night you had attempted to make him bleed in retaliation. You’d harbored the need to cut him open desperately that night, to crack open his chest and assure yourself he could bleed the same scarlet as you, that there was still a weathered heart behind his calloused ribs that could beat the same as yours. 

But you never did. At the end of that night, you had been the only one left bloodied and bandaged, aside from Steve’s glass as collateral damage. He remained unscathed.

The door knob shakes suddenly, and your eyes flash back open. Another shake, and you hear him huffing. 

“Seriously? Did you just lock me out of my own room?” His voice comes from the other side of the door. 

The bleeding stops. The wound seals. Even if he can’t see you through the door, just to know that his presence resides on the other side of it is enough to put an end to your trembling breaths. 

“Fuck off,” you call out hoarsely. 

“Let me in. It’s my room.” 

“No.”

He sighs, and a thump sounds that you assume is his forehead falling against the wood in defeat, “Why do you insist on acting like a child?” 

“You’re the one with a collection of action figures!” you fight back with your weakest insult of the night. He twists the doorknob without fruition a few more times, a couple sharp knocks sound as you turn to get a better look at the room you’d run into without observation. 

It’s nothing extravagant, which makes sense. He has an entire apartment to spill his wretched personality across, which means there’s no need to condense it into the decor of his bedroom. He doesn’t have to express himself in a limited space as you do with your dorm. There’s a few posters of various bands hung crookedly on the wall, a dresser with a few of the drawers half open with assortments of clothes peeking out before they overflow onto the carpeted flooring, and a bed left unmade. His jersey sheets are plaid, worn and clearly well-loved. Despite the expected mess trailing about the rest of the floor, the space beside the bed is left cleared, and you decide to settle yourself down onto the patch. 

Your phone buzzes in your tight fist as your back settles up against the side of the bed. 

“Unlock the door,” his voice persists impatiently again. 

“Go to Hell.”

“I’m already there. Stuck with you.” 

Maybe the wound isn’t quite sealed, because the words fall like salt into your chest. 

“Why my friends are so enamored with you, I will never understand.” 

There’s more to say, but the chiming of a phone cuts off your thoughts. You glance down to your cell phone – not yours. 

The ringing is more muted, behind the door. With Eddie.

It’s Eddie’s phone. 

You’re about to call out a snarky remark about him getting that, but the ringing cuts off before you have the chance. It’s clear he’s walked away from the door as the echoes of his voice fades, the conversation inaudible to you through the walls. 

Your fingers dig into the carpet beside your thighs as you pull at individual strands that stick out, finally discarding your phone on the opposite side. Eventually, your touch trails closer to the edge of the bed, plucking, plucking, plucking until you collide with laminated paper sticking out from beneath the bed. 

What’s this? 

Just as you’re about to pull what you assume is a magazine from beneath the bed, your phone begins to buzz violently, this time the ringtone being your own. 

The screen lights up with Steve’s contact photo. It can’t be good.

“Hello?” you answer once you pick the phone up after a few moments of pause. 

“You can’t lock him out of his own room.”

“Oh, hey, Steve. I’m great, thanks for asking. Really living the drea-”

“You can’t lock him out of his own room,” Steve repeats with more emphasis, disregarding your sarcastic tone completely. 

You stare across the room at an acoustic guitar resting on a stand. This machine slays dragons, it reads in bold, white lettering. 

“So you were the one who called him,” you mumble. 

Steve sighs over the line, “No. Nance called him, because you haven’t sent the proof to the chat yet. We were trying to give you guys a grace period, but-”

“But you assumed we’d already murdered each other,” you finish his sentence. 

“Can you blame us? What did he even say to make you board yourself up in his room?” 

You scoff softly, “He didn’t tell Nancy?” 

The moment Steve mentioned Nancy was the one calling Eddie, you’d simply assumed he’d filled her in. 

Before you’d weaseled your way into the friend group, there had been clear, strong bonds already set in place: Robin & Steve, Jonathan & Argyle, and Nancy & Eddie. Three sets of best friends who all wove together to form their large friend group with ease.

You were the odd man out. They never treated you as such, except for Eddie, but it was an insecurity that could eat you alive if you ever gave it the time of day. And maybe that was why Eddie’s earlier words had cut so deeply. He was voicing a fear you always tried to bury deep down. 

“No,” Steve says as if it were obvious, “He just started going off about how you had locked him out of his room amongst…. Um, amongst other things.” 

Other things. You could guess what those other things had been; no doubt, he’d spent his time on the phone bitching about you. He’d probably called you every crude name in his rolodex of hatefulness. 

“Right,” you drawl, eyes flickering around the room to seek out another distraction to mindlessly stare at. Suddenly, you remember the magazine you had discovered just as Steve called, “Well, nothing surprising. The usual, really. Just how he hates my guts, he finds me annoying, he wouldn’t care if I died-” 

“-What?” 

You ignore Steve’s gasp of disbelief and carry on, “-All the classic insults you would say to your arch nemesis.” 

Steve says your name softly, still carrying an air of shock, “He didn’t mean that. I- Listen, he’s an asshole sometimes, but I guarantee he would care-”

“Who cares?” you interrupt, “I don’t blame him. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to care if I meet my untimely demise. I kind of figured he was going to murder me anyways, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was… that was joking around, he…” Steve trails off, because you both know he’s full of shit. 

There was no joking around between you and Eddie. A painful truth, considering when you first joined the friend group, you had such high hopes of getting along with him. 

“It’s whatever. Do you still need me to send proof?” you ask, fingers now playing with the crumpled edges of the magazine. Even half-hidden, you could see there were pages that had been dog-eared. 

You almost don’t hear Steve as he tells you that it’s fine, that now they know the two of you are definitely together. It’s already nearly time for the next check in anyways. 

“Alright, in that case…” your tongue peaks out as you begin to tug the magazine out of hiding. The moment the magazine's title comes into sight, you gasp, frozen as the phone nearly slips out of your hand.

Fucking jackpot.

“You good?” Steve asks. 

Playboy. A goddamn Playboy magazine. 

“Never better,” you rush out, eager to hang up so you can utilize this ammunition against Eddie, “Talk later, Steve-O.” 

You don’t give him a chance to echo a goodbye before you hang up, tossing your phone off to the side with a muted thump. Your focus is entirely on the magazine before you, crinkling as you hold it in your hands and bite back laughter. 

Against your better judgment, you open the cover, mouth falling open as you flip through page after page of nude women and cigarette ads. Some pages stick together, and you don’t dare to peel them apart, cringing at the thought of just why they’re sticky. You come to the first page that had been dog-earred, and your jaw clicks as your mouth falls agape. 

Fucking pervert. He’s a goddamn pervert. 

A well-timed knock sounds at the door once more, Eddie’s knuckles sharp in their three strikes, “Can you let me in now?” 

It’s the closest to a please you’re going to get. 

“Sorry, busy!” you call out in response, still staring at the spread.

The nude woman eerily resembles you. Same hair, same skin tone, similar noses. The Universe has dropped the most loving of gifts in your laps in the form of this magazine, something you know you can use to get under Eddie’s skin as severely as he had done to you. 

“Busy?” he protests, knocking on the door again before you hear the shaking of the doorknob again, “What the fuck are you doing in there? I told you, don’t touch my shit.”

You bite your lip, smile curling the corners of your mouth as you finally stand from the floor, knees cracking as you keep the magazine open to the photo. Eddie has gone scarily quiet, and you can’t even make out his breathing. His shadow has stilled completely as it peaks in from under the doorway. 

He’s never living this down. 

You’re still grinning with ill-intent as you shout, “Wow. Who knew I was right about the Playboy?”

Those words are all it takes for the frantic pounding on the door to begin.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @imtryingahh @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @liv0679 @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @eddiemunxson @ohmeg @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @whosbettysstuff

(if your name is crossed out like so, it means i am unable to tag you)

taglist is now closed. &lt;3

[instantezra]

Highlights

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader (gender neutral reader and only like, one use of y/n!)

Summary: danny lets you do his hair that's it that's the plot

Content Warnings: this is mostly just fluff but there is consumption of alcohol and marijuana (don't do drugs or w/e!), adult language, danny being suggestive so i will say this is 18+ minors do not interact!!, use of pet names, mentions of golf (lmao)

Word Count: 2.4k

Author's Note: this is my first fic for gvf!! and my first fic i've written in uhhhh 4 years! disclaimer that this is a work of fiction i do not personally know anyone in GVF i just write my thoughts. this is my offering to tumblr for more greta pals/moots 🙇 also sorry idk if i ever learned how to end a fic so

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It was a good thing Danny trusted you. Maybe too much, considering his current position. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt from his early high school days – slightly raggedy, faded, and giving you a glimpse at his shoulders through some of the holes that had formed over the years. He sat on a chair from the kitchen that had been dragged into the living room and tried to find something mindless to put on in the background on TV. You stood behind him and surveyed the supplies laid out beside the snacks and wine on the coffee table.

Danny had finally agreed to let you put highlights back in his hair. You felt confident in your abilities, but he had a different outlook on this whole operation.

“You know I’m only letting you do this because I couldn’t get an appointment soon, right?” he stated as he landed on a channel replaying highlights from the last U.S. Open.

“You’re letting me do this because you love and trust me and know I would never steer you wrong!” You leaned in, planting a kiss on the crown of his head. “Besides, if I fuck up, I can just shave your head.”

“NOOOO!” Danny dramatically grabbed at his curls, tucking his chin in and leaning forward, almost out of the seat. Both of you burst into a fit of giggles. “What if my head is shaped weird?”

“I’m sure I could find a way to love bald Danny. But we won’t be finding that out! Because I’m a professional. Now watch your golf and shush, I need to read this wikiHow article…” He whipped his head back to look at you incredulously. Giving him a quick wink, you scrolled through the article. Danny had made sure to not wash his hair for a few days, the two of you had spent too long in the beauty supply store finding said supplies, and he was wearing a throwaway shirt in case any dye had spilled. Now all that was left was to get started.

He sat still in front of you, sipping his glass of wine as you sectioned his hair off into different parts. He looked a bit goofy with the various clips and mini buns dotting his head. Sneakily, you took a picture and shared it on your Close Friends story on Instagram, captioned with a few stupid and cryptic emojis. You knew he’d give you shit for it later, but it was still cute. The rattail comb caught into one of his curls, and you almost got to work.

Danny leaned forward, shaking his head to knock your hands away. You popped up an eyebrow inquisitively. He put his glass of wine down and got up to crack open one of your windows. Early autumn air came blowing through, the smell fresh and a slight chill permeating the room. You couldn't help but close your eyes to relish in the crisp air. The next smell you caught was that of the joint Danny had lit. You chuckled lightly as you put on the latex gloves from the highlighting kit.

“You want any? Thought now would be easier than during.” He blew smoke towards the open window and leaned back in his seat, extending an offer.

“I don't think being crossed is a great idea. I will have literal bleach near your head, Dan.”

“What happened to ‘I’m a professional’ and I ‘trust you’, hm?” he asked, teasingly doing air quotes with his hands. You sighed and reached for the joint. He was hard to say no to.

“It's your hair,” you stated and took a small hit. A little wouldn't hurt, right? If anything, it would probably just mean Dan was going to get a great head massage out of it. You loved running your fingers through his locks, but when you were high it was a way to self-soothe. Plenty of nights the two of you could be found lounging in the couch after a few hits, Danny's head in your lap as your fingers mindlessly played in his curls.

Well, usually you did that. If you ended up fucking up his highlights, that would be a bit harder. No curls to run your fingers through after you'd have to shave him. 

You poured the remainder of your wine into Danny’s glass and declined any more weed. Your head was already feeling a bit fuzzier. With newfound focus on the task at hand and gloves on, you mixed in the developer and stared down at the wikiHow article opened on your phone.

Between your fingers you held a strand of curls and laid it on a strip of foil. Danny’s hair was getting long, so he probably should have seen an actual hair stylist. The boys had a very brief break in their tour, and the break was scheduled in such a way that he wasn’t able to make any actual appointments. Danny wasn’t complaining; he wanted to spend as much time as he could with your in your place. You insisted your apartment wasn’t as nice as his place, but he said it felt more “homey.” A place of solace from his life that had changed so much in the past five years. It was a constant, just like you were for him.

You began brushing what Dan had dubbed “the potion” onto his hair, making sure to keep undyed portions separate. Wrapping foil around each wet strand, you got into a rhythm. The only sound in the room was his occasional commentary on the golf on TV and soft crinkling of tin foil. For some reason you weren’t nervous about doing Danny’s hair. Sure, you had only ever dyed your roommate’s hair in college, and that was usually just an all over single color. Those nights consisted of the two of you splitting a bottle of wine, watching the same historical romance movie for the umpteenth time, and chatting about anything and everything. Now you got to share those moments with Danny. Everything with him was just easy.

Occasionally, he’d reach his arm back, offering you the joint (which you refused) or a Twizzler (which you happily accepted). He’d start going off on a tangent about a certain golfer, giving unsolicited opinions that made you giggle. Sometimes he’d get so heated about it, he’d move his head and you had to hold it still with your gloved hands. He’d try to crack a joke and make you giggle, briefly breaking your concentration.

Moments like these were when you realized truly how much you cared for this boy. Not necessarily when he was a rock god, performing for thousands of adoring fans. Not when he travelled the globe, sending you pictures of otherworldly sights and making you yearn for him to return. It was always the quieter moments. It was the comfortable silence of not having to talk, just enjoying each others company. It was the delicate tug of each strand you were going to highlight, him trusting that you wouldn’t hurt him (or worse, make him be bald). When he was home from tour or rehearsal, he always wanted to spend time with you, in your place. He always mentioned it felt like a second home. Even if it was something as mundane as vegetating on the couch together. It was domestic, and it made your heart flutter.

—

Most of “the potion” had run out, but you had just enough to do the front curls that framed his beautiful face. You tried to set the last few strips of foil into his lap as you circled around to the front of the chair. Apparently whatever had been on the television now wasn’t as enticing to him, because he set the foils on the table and pulled you into his lap. His eyelids were heavy, covering his bloodshot eyes as he shot you a smirk. You playfully rolled your eyes and continued brushing product onto a few stray curls near his forehead.

“That does it, I think,” you exclaimed and reached towards the coffee table. The brush clattered slightly in the bowl when you set it down. You snatched the unlit joint from its ashtray and flicked the lighter. “Now we just have to check on the color every 5 minutes and then rinse!”

“I can think of a couple things we could do for 5 minutes,” he said and leaned forward to kiss your neck. You giggled into the joint as you struggled to lean away, blowing smoke through your nose and accidentally into Dan’s hair.

“Okay, well, I was going to help you rinse this out but maybe you do need a cold shower by yourself.” Your hips shifted to try to get up and out of his grasp, but his strong hands pulled you back down.

“What!? I was just gonna say we could list our favorite golfers from the last 5 years and why.” He feigned hurt by putting a hand to his chest and pouting. You leaned forward to kiss his pout, which in turn made it a smile. “But actually though… will you help me rinse it? I don’t want to fuck it up.” There was a sincerity to his statement. No matter how silly he had been before - he really did trust you.

It was always the quieter moments. Pinching the end of the filter to his lips so Danny could take the last few hits. Feeling the haze of smoking hit your head. Comfortably sitting in his lap like it was made just for you. Peaking under the foils to see how the color was developing. His dopey smile as he squeezed your hips. Just being together, those were the moments you lived for.

Both of you were shot out of your dazed states by the alarm on your phone. Next thing you knew you were floating down the hall, following him into your tiny bathroom and sitting him down on the closed seat. A fit of giggles erupted from both of you as he tried to lay his large frame against the toilet lid with his hair dangling into the tub. Danny was used to getting this done in a salon, but your shitty apartment bathroom would have to do.

His lips were moving but you couldn’t hear it over the rushing water coming from the faucet. He seemed to be talking about some dumb idea Sam had, but that quickly turned to a yelp once you redirected some of the water onto his head.

“Shit, why is it so cooooooold?” His whines made your chest clench. The position he was in looked incredibly uncomfortable and the icy cold water probably didn’t help. But you couldn’t help but notice the scrunch of his nose, the freckles sprinkled across the bridge and his cheeks, the redness in his face from laying with his head nearly upside down. He looked so adorable, even with a tangle of curls flopped into the tub.

“Sorry, hon, but it’s gotta be cold,” you reassured him by massaging his scalp gently. The pressure applied from your fingertips mixed with the acclimation to the temperature had Danny closing his eyes. A hum came from his chest, and he relaxed into your touch. You took this as a good sign and leaned over him to make sure all the product was rinsed out.

“I d’know if it’s cuz I’m stoned or if you’re just magic, but this feels really really good,” he mumbled, leaning up to trail kisses down your jaw and neck.

“I think it’s a bit of both, bub. Keep that up though and you’ll be doing shampoo and conditioner yourself, Mr. Wagner.” You tugged his hair gently, not necessarily to rile him up but moreso as a warning. This elicited a chuckle, and he leaned his head back once more.

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint.” You smiled down at him, continuing your ministrations. There was another comfortable silence between the two of you. Danny carefully folded his hands across his chest while you carefully shampooed and conditioned his hair. He didn’t even complain when you poured a cup of water over his curls, gently working the products out of his freshly highlighted hair. You used an old plush towel to catch the drips from his waterlogged locks and helped him sit up on the toilet seat. He beamed up at you lazily as you softly scrunched his curls a bit drier. “Thank you for doing this,” he whispered.

“Of course, lovey,” you softly replied. “Now, you do that mysterious curl routine of yours and tell me how it looks. I’m gonna go start us some dinner.” You left him alone in the bathroom, knowing he had some products in the medicine cabinet that he’d left at your place just in case. The dye job had honestly come out not too shabby. It probably wasn’t as great as his professional stylist’s job, but it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. You wouldn’t know until you returned to the bathroom, though.

You went to check on him after prepping some food and pouring two more glasses of wine. The sound of the hair dryer stopped, so you knew he must be close to done. Turning into the doorway, you stood behind him. His gaze in the mirror went from his hair to your eyes, giving you a soft smile. You snaked your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“So… not too bad, right?”

“It looks great, y/n. Really, it does. Thank you,” he said gently.

“You’re so pretty, Danny.” 

A blush rose to his cheeks. That shy smile of his appeared on his face, and you got that funny feeling in your chest again. The amount of poetry you could write just on the features of his face would make Keats and Byron blush in embarrassment. Danny had to know he was handsome, but he still hadn’t gotten used to you calling him pretty. Or beautiful. Really, any time you complimented him he felt on top of the world. There was a slight tension in the air, though, and you hoped you hadn’t made him uncomfortable. So you cut the tension.

“So… you don’t want me to shave it?” You poked at his side and he let out a bellowing laugh.

“No, no, no. No bald Danny,” he said, twisting around to face you. “I like being your pretty Danny.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

uwu if you got this far yippee also thank u to my bestie for beta reading this (they don't use tumblr but i love them) and to @godly-sinsx for helping me brainstorm <3

also idk if i need to do pic credit it's literally from daniel's insta tho

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 15 - The secret of Br0cc0liBoi.

Summary: Izuku has a secret tumblr. Quite expected, really. What’s not expected is the fact that Y/N “knows the guy.”

Warnings: Suggestive, Izuku mentions something really cheeky once, swear words and a lot of sexual tension but nothing too cheeky! Pinky promise!

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Everything is almost back to normal, except for the fact that your boyfriend is actually home now instead of being away 90% of the time.

You try not to mention how much you enjoy spending some quality time with him because while it’s indeed amazing to have him around so much, you would never take him away his beloved hero world.

He also looks quite restless, always trying to find something to do instead of resting but otherwise, he’s doing relatively well.

There is one thing that makes you a teeny tiny bit angry sometimes though…

He’s constantly on his phone. He’s scrolling Twitter, Instagram, even fucking Tik Tok for fucks sake. And… wait for it… Tumblr. Motherfucking pro hero Deku is on fucking Tumblr.

But that’s a problem for later. For now…

“Izu-Izu…” you sit into your boyfriend’s lap, begging for some attention.

“Hm? What’s up?” Izuku doesn’t even look up at you to see the pretty pouting face you are making. You are not having this shit. No. Nada.

You yank the phone out of his hands and throw it on the pillow. Izuku looks at you like you just did something suggestive which doesn’t make any sense but at least he’s looking at you now. “Hey, you know you can just tell me to put the phone down, right?” Izuku reprimands, but he can’t hide the tiny mischievous smile on his face. His arms snake around your middle, fingers sneaking under your shirt to stroke your sensitive skin and your whole body shudders. “Cheeky Sweet Pea. The cheekiest.” Izuku suddenly starts kissing your neck, slowly moving down to your collarbone and…

“Okay. I’m sorry. Stop torturing me before I do something extremely stupid.”

Izuku’s whole face reddens at that.

“Now you see why am I on my phone so much.” He admits. “This shirt is killing me. I can almost see through it, you know. You are the one torturing me for 3 days now.” Izuku’s hand crawls up on your side until they reach the underside of your boobs.

Okay. Let’s calm down. Let’s fucking calm down. He just got his cast taken off. You need a wait a few more days before uhm… this can escalate. Take a deep breath. You can do this.

“I’ll … change my … shirt.” You stutter as you try to get off Izuku’s lap but he doesn’t let you move. “Hey! Your arm! You can’t use it this much!” You reprimand but Izuku only giggles.

“My arm is fine. I just don’t want you to run away. I want to show you what I was reading. It was a really sweet fanfiction about me and the reader! This person really managed to get a good grip on my character. It’s quite freaky.”

“Oh? What was it about?” You sit down next to him and cuddle into his side. Izuku puts his arm around your shoulder right away.

“It was about me being an idiot and feeling bad about not being able to be with my girl so I decided to break up with her for her own sake but the girl loved me with all my flaws so it was really stupid of me to do so. We got together on New Years Eve and we promised to meet each other there every year so I went there the next year, hoping she’ll be there and there she was!”

“That’s so sweet, Izu!” You coo, snuggling into him even more. “So in character!”

“Yeah, and it’s not just that. It also states that I say sorry too much which I do and you also tell me off for it.”

“You also didn’t wanna tell me you are in love with me because you thought you are not good enough.” You remind him, just to see him blush again. “At least this Izuku had the balls to try. I had to do everything in this household!”

“Hey! I kissed you first! And second!” Izuku retorts, offended.

“Hey! First time was an accident…”

“Was it though?”

“Was it not?!” You gawk at him. You can’t believe this man.

“Sweets, did I move away?”

“No…. Oh my god! Izuku!” You smack him with the closest pillow, laughing. “You cheeky little fuck! I can’t believe you! Kyouka was right!”

“Well, to my excuse, it did start off as an accident. I just rolled with the punches or to be exact, I couldn’t resist the temptation.”

“I absolutely can’t believe you!” You gawk at him. Honestly, who is this man?! What happened to your sweet Izuku? And why do you like this new side of him?

“Oh, wait until you hear about all the sneaky kisses I left on your cheeks and on your arms while you slept, way before we got together. I felt so bad afterwards but I couldn’t help it. You were so pretty. You wore this shirt to sleep once. That actually killed me. I couldn’t look into your eyes after I left in the morning and went straight to…”

You literally scream in Izuku’s face.

“OH MY GOD, SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“… But the last one was after we got together! I swear!” This man will be death of you. It’s official. “Let’s change the topic. I want to show you some nice art I found on Tumblr!”

… that won’t help with you imagining where the rest of his sentence was about to go. Maybe you should take a cold shower. Or drink a lot of water. Or both. Yeah.

Okay, you can do this. It’s quite exciting to see how Izuku’s personal tumblr and Twitter looks like. It feels like he’s letting you in on some cheeky secrets, even though it’s just a stupid social media page.

“I can’t believe we haven’t followed each other anywhere until now.” You mumble your thoughts out loud by accident.

“Well, you sent me all your art stuff anyway and you were always home when I was so there wasn’t really a need for it, I guess.” Izuku mumbles back. “I mean, I don’t post actual pictures, just reblog and retweet stuff. The pictures I sent you from patrol were just for you. But I’m more than happy to show you everything.” Izuku’s smile is dazzling as he bonks his little head into your shoulder like an attention seeking kitty cat. Goddamn, your heart can’t take this.

Okay, listen. Izuku is cute as fuck on a normal day, yeah? Well, today, he decided to kill you with his look.

Do you remember how he just told you off for wearing that thin shirt? Well, Izuku’s wearing that stupid tank top with no sides. And he’s wearing his stupidly adorable glasses you have a massive soft spot for.

Oh, you think this can’t get worse? Oh, it can.

The top half of Izuku’s hair is in a little pony tail. Yes, you heard it right. In a little fucking pony tail. He also got an undercut after the accident which gives him a super edgy, but also cute look and it’s just too much for your heart. Izuku and Deku are two different people. You swear if this guy would walk past you you would think he’s some Kpop idol and not pro Hero Deku, the shy number one hero. He could kick you in the chest and you would say thank you; well, that’s not a big achievement to be honest as you felt the same towards his hero persona as well, but looking like this while on a sick-leave must be illegal. It’s also quite obvious that Izuku didn’t even try to look this hot, he was just… born like this. He woke up and put the first top he found I his dresser then he probably realized that his hair got too long and the fringe was annoying so he stole one of your green hair bands and made a messy ponytail.

Just fuck this man.

(Oh, you wish.)

GODDAMNIT, FOCUS.

You take a quick peek at Izuku’s phone now that you are allowed to. Then you yank the phone out of his hand and stare at the profile in front of you because…

YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT NAME.

“You are absolutely shitting me.” You gawk at your boyfriend.

“Stop hanging out with Kacchan.” Izuku mutters, utterly confused by your sudden mood change.

“How long have you had this account?” You ask in between two deep breaths. This is not happening. This a fucking joke. There is no way…

“Well, this one is relatively new, but I did have another account with a similar name a few years ago but then I lost my phone and couldn’t remember the email I used for it so I couldn’t get it back and… Sweets, why are you not breathing?

“Izuku, weren’t you chatting with someone on that account? The old one?”

This is definitely a joke. The author of this fanfiction is a fucking sadist. There is no other explanation.

“Wait, what?!” He jumps up right away, his face as red as a tomato. “How do you know that?!”

“Why didn’t you find her again?! You knew hair account name!”

“Are you quirked?!” Izuku tries to change the topic but one glare is enough for him to cower like a scared little puppy. “Well, it was harder and harder to keep my identity a secret and it’s not like I could just send her a message saying that oh, anyway, I’m the number one hero I hope that’s okay with you! I also started to have feelings for her but I didn’t even know her full name so I ran away like a fucking idiot because I got scared! She also had the same first name as you by the way! I’m sorry!” Izuku is yelling by the end of the sentence, his face five seconds away from exploding from all the blood that had flown into it.

Instead of replying, you take your own phone into your hands and go on your own personal account then you go back a few years until you find the conversation you’re looking for; a conversation with Broccoli Boy. Yup. You heard it right.

Izuku pales completely from the sight; you can hear his brain processing the information, then… he becomes a complete mess.

“You are joking. There is no fucking way.”

You know shit hit the fan when Izuku starts to swear.

“I waited for you for months! Months, Broccoli Boy! You broke my heart! I was just about to confess to you when you disappeared!”

“We fell in love with each other… twice.” Izuku mumbles, dumbstruck.

“And you ran away from it. Fucking twice, you moron.” You add fondly, sighing into the awkward silence.

Instead of saying anything you scroll up in the conversation and show Izuku some of your favorite ones. He doesn’t say a single word, he just stares at your screen with teary eyes, reminiscing the old memories as all the joy and the pain comes back to him all at once.

4 years ago

Broccoli Boy: Hey! I’ve read your fanfiction and it was the best one I’ve ever read! The whole idea of Deku being All Might’s secret son is amazing! I want that to be true haha! I hope you are having an amazing day! I love how I can take a glimpse into your mind through your stories. I can already tell you are an amazing person. So pure, so kind, so loving.

Ahh, I’m sorry, this must be really creepy coming from a guy, but I’m just so in love your work! I don’t mean any harm, I swear! >.<

Dekusleftsock: Oh my god, hi! Thank you very much for saying that! Not everyone likes that story sadly, so this message made me cry from joy! Thank you very much for being so kind! I actually have a sequel for that which I’ve never posted, wanna read it?

Broccoli Boy: Oh my god, please! You are so sweet! You belong on the top of a cake! Like those marzipan figurines! Because… you are sweet.

Uhm, I’m terrible at this.

Dekusleftsock: I’M LAUGHING SO HARD I CAN’T! 😂 You are so funny, Broccoli Boy!

Broccoli Boy: Just call me Zu! And please don’t laugh at me! I’m terrible at talking to strangers! >.<“

Dekusleftsock: I’m not laughing at you! Okay, I am but… I do it in a really fond way? Like I want you to be a pillow so I can cuddle you until you suffocate?

… Wow, that was just as bad as yours, wasn’t it.

Broccoli Boy: I will gladly choke in your arms if it makes you happy!

Oh, shit.

That sounds extremely wrong.

I’m so sorry.

Dekusleftsock: I’m so glad you can’t hear me screaming right now. You would go deaf. Damn, you made my day, Zu. You are hilarious.

Broccoli Boy: Well, I’ll gladly make your day with my awkwardness tomorrow as well, if you let me!

Dekusleftsock: Damn, that was smooth. I allow it. Good night, Zu! 🥦

~•~

A few weeks later

Dekusleftsock: So… what do you do for a living, Zu?

Broccoli Boy: uhm… I can’t go into details but… I work at a hero agency? I can’t tell you which one or what I do exactly.

Dekusleftsock: Oh my god! That’s so cool! Have you met Deku?!

Broccoli Boy: hahah, yeah, I actually did. He’s… quite clumsy? A bit of a loner, really. He’s nice to everyone but deep inside, he’s quite closed off. I think.

Dekusleftsock: Give me 5 to 7 working days to stop incoherently screaming and I’ll answer properly. You know, fangirl things.

Broccoli boy: Take your time, Pumpkin 💜

Dekusleftsock: Pumpkin?! Okay, I’m officially dead. Is it weird that I’m happier from the nickname than from the secret intel on my favorite hero?

…

Is it weird that I like you more than I like my favorite hero?

Oh my god, I did not just write that down I’m deactivating myself, bye.

Broccoli boy: I…

I like you too. You are the reason I go to bed with a smile on my face every day. I’m forever grateful for your sole existence.

… should I deactivate myself too?

~•~

Dekusleftsock: I had a rough day. Can you hug me?

Broccoli boy: *hugs her and kisses her forehead.*

Dekusleftsock: I really want to feel it.

Broccoli Boy: Me too, pumpkin. 💚

Dekusleftsock: Maybe one day, we will meet each other in real life. By pure accident. I think I’ll know it’s you. I’ll see it in your eyes.

Broccoli Boy: Maybe I’m closer than you think. Please, find me. I’ll cherish you forever if you do.

Dekusleftsock: You promise, Zuzu?

Broccoli boy: Pinky promise.

~•~

Dekusleftsock: Hey, Zu! Are you okay? It has been a few days and we usually chat every night so… please message me that you are okay.

~•~

Dekusleftsock: Zu, I’m starting to worry. Like a lot. Please, tell me you are okay.

~•~

Dekusleftsock: Zuzu, I really miss you. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. Is it something I did? Are you ignoring me because you realized I’m in love with you? I can back off. I can get over it. Please, just talk to me, tell me you are okay. Just tell me you are alive and well and happy.

~•~

Dekusleftsock: Zuzu… a promise is a promise. I’ll find you and smack you in the face. Then I’ll kiss you senseless if you let me. I miss you so much it physically hurts.

~•~

Dekusleftsock: I hope you are at least happy. I hope you are okay. Thank you for everything.

~•~

Needless to say when Izuku gets to the last few messages, he cries.

“I’m so sorry, Pumpkin. I’m so-so sorry.” His head ends up on your chest as he bawls. “I’m sorry I made you cry, I’m so sorry…”

“I don’t mean to be rude but you made cry quite a lot already, so…” The look Izuku gives you makes you feel extremely guilty about teasing him right now; he looks like he’s ready to jump of a cliff from all the guilt, his lips wobbling like a child’s. “You know, it’s normal… to cry sometimes. It’s normal to have a fight. Love isn’t about finding someone who’s always perfect. Love is about finding a person who’s worth those tears. To find someone who you know will do everything to apologize, to make up for the pain they’ve caused. Obviously there is a limit to what’s acceptable and what not, it also depends on the reason of those tears, but you know what I mean… I mean that you are worth it. Zu was worth it. Izu-Izu was worth it. I love you.” You caress Izuku’s cheek.

It’s a lot to take in. It might sound silly for normal people that you fell in love with someone you haven’t even met in real life nor had known their real name but Zu… Zu was special. He was so kind, so lovely, so true to himself every day and so caring when you felt down, it was impossible not love him more than what’s acceptable for a guy you’ve been chatting on the internet. He’s been with you every night, he’s been the first person you’ve though about when something good or bad happened, you told him everything about yourself and he always listened to you, asked questions, made you feel like the whole world revolves around you. Now that you think back, you can clearly see the resemblance between the two.

“I love you too, Sweet Pea. Pumpkin. Both of you. So much.” Izuku kisses you deeply, his fingers deep in your hair as he pulls you even closer. You make a small whimper, ready to jump onto his lap and show him how much you actually love him when the bell suddenly rings.

“Why. Just why.” Izuku giggles into your mouth as he slowly gets up to open the door. He looks at the little camera by the door and freezes, then starts jumping around like a little kid with his finger constantly on the buzzer even though the person has already left the entrance and is probably on the way up here. You run into your room to find a more appropriate shirt and by the time you get back there is a messy, brown haired man by the door wearing a shit eating grin as he takes a good look at Izuku from head to toe. A pink, cute bird jumps out of his jacket and starts flying around Deku with worry in her cute little eyes, crying out loudly when she sees a new scar on Izuku’s skin. She looks like she’s about to have a mental breakdown.

Oh.

The bird… she must be Pino. Then the guy is…

“Rody?!”

…. Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Oh my, what the hell, right?! I don’t even know what to add to this one, it’s a handful already 😂

- Please, be aware of all the weirdos on the internet and do not trust anyone until you are 100% sure they are safe. Never meet a stranger at home. Never meet a stranger right away. This is a fanfiction, real life is different than the one in this story. Be safe.

- The fanfic Izuku’s talking about is my New Years Dsku special which you can read here! Sorry for the self-promotion 😂

- Sorry for all the suggestive stuff! I tried to keep it PG but then Izuku said what he said and… yeah. They really need to get their things sorted as soon as possible because writing with them is literally painful. Like, the amount of thoughts I’m not writing down to keep this at least 16+… 😂

- Reader’s tumblr name and Izuku’s tumblr picture is by @porusuniverse! Thank you 💜💜💜💜💜

- Btw, I actually made Izuku’s tumblr account so feel free to follow him! You can also ask him questions! 😂😂 @br0cc0liboiii

- I’m so excited to have Rody in the next chapter! I love that guy and I want him to be canon!!!

- Tell me your thoughts now that we are back on the fluff train! Are we happy? Are we? What do we wanna see? Tell me!

TL:

@garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @thekookiecorner @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave

[wizardofarles]

In light of ao3 being down for who knows how long, I’m posting chapters 1-5 of Lord, You Keep Me Crawling here on tumblr

If it’s still down by Sunday when chapter 6 is supposed to go up, I’ll post that here too

(Rating: Mature, tw: csa, implied/referenced suicide, graphic depictions of violence, catholicism, homophobia, panic attacks, ptsd)

Summary: a Catholic high school au wherein the Regent is a Bishop and headmaster of Laurent’s school

Chapter One: On My Knees

The office door opened with a click. Laurent didn’t turn to watch his uncle enter the room. He lounged in one of the high-backed upholstered chairs with the heels of his Doc Martens resting on the polished wood surface of the headmaster’s desk, scrolling through instagram on his phone without really seeing anything. The earbuds in his ears played no sound. They were for show; a performative nonchalance, when really, Laurent had been listening for that click. That didn’t stop his stomach from dropping when he heard it.

Dull footsteps muffled by the plush silk rug approached his chair at a casual pace. Laurent used the few seconds it took his uncle to reach him to scroll back up to a previous post—some pretty Akielon girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, lounging on a beach with three other girls, all in bikinis.

His earbuds flew out of his ears. Laurent turned to see his uncle holding the wire in his hand, earbuds dangling and dancing around each other in a spiral that was sure to tangle. The glance and subsequent grimace of distaste that his uncle directed at his carefully angled phone screen was brief. Laurent might have mistaken it for some trick of the imagination if he didn’t know the man’s face like the back of his own hand.

“Put it away, Laurent,” Uncle said. “School rules still apply in my office. Even for you.”

With a small burst of triumph in his belly, Laurent locked his phone and snatched the earbuds back. Uncle’s gaze lingered on his face, around his eyes. Laurent pretended not to notice, until Uncle grabbed his chin and tilted his face up to look more closely.

“Wash it off.” Uncle’s expression was unreadable, even to Laurent, but his voice was stern.

“You don’t like it?” Laurent put on an exaggerated pout.

“We’re in school, Laurent. Wash it off. I won’t ask again.”

“I don’t have makeup wipes or anything.”

Uncle’s mouth twitched, but his thick beard hid the finer details of the expression. Laurent couldn’t decipher whether the brief flash of emotion he’d seen had been a smile or a scowl. Then Uncle released his face from his grip and walked away without a word, passing through the door to his adjoining bathroom.

Laurent waited while his uncle grabbed a hand towel and ran it under the faucet. The fact that he was expending the effort to do it himself instead of ordering Laurent to do it made him uneasy. Was there a trap here somewhere?

He tried to push his worry away and distracted himself by letting his eyes wander around his uncle’s office. A wide sunbeam poked in through the East-facing window, filling the room with the young light of the morning. On the opposite wall, an ancient leather-bound Bible with gold lettering sat on a wooden hutch, a red ribbon sticking out from between the pages like the flicking tongue of a snake. A crucifix hung on the wall above it; a wooden cross with a little ceramic Jesus stuck on there, looking down solemnly over the room. He was bathed in sunlight from the window.

On the wall to Laurent’s back, beside the door, was a painting that Laurent purposefully didn’t look at—one of those renaissance paintings of little naked cherubs. It was an impressive piece of art in truth, but something about seeing it here in his uncle’s school office had always made Laurent’s skin crawl.

Instead, he found himself staring at the framed photographs on the wall behind his uncle’s desk. Uncle smiled with the Royal Veretian Academy for Boys choir over the years. The choir varied year by year, but his uncle looked the same in every photograph; his lush brown beard always trimmed and neat, his blue eyes twinkling, his left hand resting on the shoulder of the boy beside him.

In seven of those photos, that boy beside him was Laurent, growing slightly taller in each snapshot while his uncle never changed aside from a slight dusting of gray at his temples in recent years. His gaze drifted toward the photograph from three years ago, when Laurent was eleven-going-on-twelve. That was the last year that Aimeric Fortaine had stood smiling on the other side of Laurent, his eyes as green as a sunlit forest.

Uncle returned with the damp towel in hand and crossed in front of the window, fracturing the sunbeam with his silhouette as he came to stand by Laurent’s chair. “Close your eyes,” he said, and began to clean the eyeliner off Laurent’s eyes. He was gentle, and the water was comfortably warm.

“Sister Margaret thinks you are possessed by a demonic spirit, you know,” Uncle said as he worked. His voice was close and rumbled pleasantly in Laurent’s ear. “Stunts like this don’t help your case.”

Laurent grinned. “Are you going to exorcise me, Uncle?”

Uncle finished wiping the makeup away and pulled back. His tone slapped the grin off Laurent’s face. “Sister Margaret may seem like nothing more than a wrinkled old crone to you, but she holds a lot of sway in this community.” He paused to lock his icy blue eyes onto Laurent’s. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Laurent cleared his throat and sat up straight, affecting his voice like he was reading from a textbook. “You want me to clean up my act in front of Sister Margaret so she’ll think you saved me from the devil, and then she’ll tell everyone she holds sway over that you’d make a good Archbishop of Arles. Got it.”

Uncle raised an eyebrow. He still loomed over Laurent with the black-smudged towel in his hand. “Laurent.”

Laurent held his gaze. “I said, I got it.”

“Good,” Uncle said, his tone softening as he tucked a strand of Laurent’s hair behind his ear. The brush of his fingers against Laurent’s ear sent tingles down his spine.

“Will you be home for dinner?” Laurent asked.

Uncle hummed, and his fingers found the sapphire encrusted cross earring dangling from Laurent’s left ear. He had given it to Laurent as a Christmas gift two years ago. Technically, it was another dress code violation—like his combat boots—but some small liberties were granted to the headmaster’s favorite nephew. Apparently, as Laurent had discovered today, eyeliner was not one of them.

Uncle toyed with the earring as he spoke, “I will try my best. I suppose I must take advantage of all the time we have left. I won’t have you all to myself for much longer. Soon I’ll have to compete with your brother.” He sounded wistful, regretful.

The reminder of Auguste’s imminent return from Delfeur twisted Laurent’s stomach into knots. He was thrilled to get his big brother back now that the war was over, but so much had changed since he saw him last. Laurent had changed. And surely Auguste had too.

“Do you think Auguste has killed people?” Laurent asked quietly.

“Undoubtedly. He’s a soldier, Laurent. That’s part of his job.”

Laurent chewed the inside of his cheek as he mulled over the idea of his big brother killing people as though he was inspecting the flavor of a dish that was new to his palate. In order to make it fit with the Auguste in his head, he imagined his brother as a shining knight straight out of one of the fairy tales that his mother used to read to him when he was a child. The kind who only killed for honor and justice—a hero. He tasted blood in his mouth where he must have broken the skin inside his cheek. There are no heroes, he thought with a stab of bitterness that surprised him.

Uncle’s hand was warm on his shoulder, except for the cold band of his ring. “All right,” he said. “Back to class.” He gave Laurent’s shoulder a quick squeeze before letting him go and moving to sit behind his desk. He started sifting through the neat folders of paperwork and making small sounds of disapproval at the back of his throat.

Laurent hesitated for a moment, half hoping his uncle would say something more, but he went on with his work as though Laurent had already gone.

With a stab of disappointment, he stood and made for the door, his mind already slipping back into a brooding haze. His uncle’s voice stopped him with his hand on the doorknob.

“And, Laurent,” he said without looking up from his papers. “Next time you want my attention, think up a new trick. The dress code violations are getting stale.”

All throughout his morning classes and lunch, Laurent hadn’t been able to get his mind off of Auguste. He sat in the back of Sister Margaret’s classroom as she droned on about the significance of Mary’s immaculate conception. Laurent tried to pay attention, but his eyes were drawn like magnets to the ticking clock on the wall behind the Sister, and every time he looked at the clock his mind wandered back to Auguste.

“Only a body born free from sin would be a pure enough vessel to bring into the world our Lord Jesus Christ, who was himself born without sin also—as you all should know,” she said in her reedy voice. “Our Holy Father created Mary to be that perfect vessel, untainted by sins of the flesh—”

The hands of the clock ticked on. In Laurent’s mind, Auguste was running toward him with a grin on his face that outshone the sun in the sky above them. Then his arms were around Laurent, wrapping him in warmth, and Laurent was spinning.

Then he was falling. Auguste landed on top of him and pinned him to the ground, his face twisted in a rage that Laurent had never seen on him before. He tried to squirm, but Auguste’s hands closed around his throat.

“Liar,” Auguste snarled at him. Laurent could barely hear him over the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

“What?” he squeaked, gasping for breath. “You’re hurting me, Auguste!” He didn’t understand why Auguste was mad at him. But he knew in his bones that his brother was trying to kill him.

Auguste’s face was red and a vein pulsed in his forehead. “You’re a disgusting fucking liar!”

The sun moved behind his head, throwing both Auguste and Laurent into shadow. Then Auguste was not Auguste anymore. The eyes that glowered down on him were green as summer and full of hatred.

“You take that back!” Aimeric screeched.

“I won’t!” Laurent shouted, “You’re a disgusting fucking liar!” He spit at the angry green eyes.

Aimeric let out an animal cry of rage, and then Laurent’s world devolved into a flurry of fists and elbows, knuckles and fingernails, fury and pain.

He was spinning again, and then he was on top, raining his fists down on Aimeric’s stupid, lying face.

“Burn in hell!” Laurent screamed. His voice sounded like a ringing bell…

Laurent woke with a start. A bell was ringing. He peeled his face off his desk and tried to glimpse the clock through the swarm of his classmates funneling toward the door. 12:45. He had slept through most of religious studies.

He quickly gathered his notes and his backpack and joined the flow of students heading out into the corridor. He could feel Sister Margaret’s eyes boring holes into his back as he hurried away. All he could think was, Uncle is going to kill me.

Laurent let the crowd herd him through the halls. He spoke to no one, and no one spoke to him. Most of his peers avoided looking him in the eye. They saved their stares and whispers for when his back was turned and scurried when he got too close—as if grief was contagious.

It didn’t bother him, though. His classmates were all either overgrown toddlers or vapid social climbers and snakes who were so wrapped up in their own petty, juvenile bullshit that even looking at them for too long gave Laurent a headache. He didn’t need friends anyway. He had tried that once, and it ended in disaster.

A ceiling light flickered as he passed beneath it. He hadn’t yet fully shaken off the dream, and it left him with the sense of walking between worlds; like he was walking on a tideless beach with one foot on hot, dry sand and one in cold water. Usually his dreams dissipated like mist in the sun when he woke, but not this one. This one seemed intent on hanging around.

He tried to make sense of it as he walked. To lay it all out and look at it from a new angle. First, he had dreamt of Auguste. He shivered at the memory of his brother’s rage—the hands around his throat had felt so real. That part was an invention of his mind, though, Laurent was certain. But then, the scene had morphed into a memory as though that had been its destination from the start. As though everything would always lead back to that moment that Laurent wished desperately he could change. Yet, even in his memory, even in dreams, he was never able to change it. It always played out the same way. It always led to the same ending.

Laurent turned a corner, nearly arrived at his locker, and stopped short. The boy behind him barreled into his back, then brushed past him with a huff of annoyance, but Laurent paid him no mind. He was too busy staring at the great beast leaning against his locker.

Akielon, by the looks of him—dark curls above a nut-brown face and eyes like a rich whiskey. And he was a giant. The beast was standing around and laughing with a group of two other older jocks, and he dwarfed them both. Laurent was sure that he had never seen him before today. He would have remembered.

New to the school, then, and with no inkling of the mistake he was making. He was about to find out.

Laurent marched across the hall and planted himself directly beside the big Akielon.

“Move.” His voice cut through their laughter like a sword through flesh.

The beast turned slowly. His brown eyes traveled from Laurent’s face down his body, to his black combat boots and back up again in a move that brought to mind a lion assessing its prey. Laurent wondered if the Akielon beast was trying to appear intimidating or if he was just slow.

He saw the moment that the beast decided he was not a threat. Something like amusement glittered in his dark eyes.

“Ask me nicely, sweetheart,” he said in flawless, unaccented Veretian, “and maybe I will.”

Heat bloomed in Laurent’s cheeks. He ignored the swooping feeling of adrenaline rushing into his bloodstream and plastered on a sunny smile.

“Call me ‘sweetheart’ again,” he said, “and I’ll rip your balls out through your throat.” The beast’s companions shifted aggressively, but the beast remained still. Laurent continued, “Now, move your big, hairy Akielon ass off of my locker.”

One of the henchmen—another Akielon, black-haired, with a patchy five o’clock shadow—started forward with a grunt, but the beast held him back with one outstretched arm. He pushed off the locker without using his arms and squared off against Laurent. At his full height, the beast easily towered over him by a foot. Laurent felt his breath leave him, but he stood his ground and carefully did not flinch.

“I could snap you in half with one hand, kid.” There was still a hint of amusement in the beast’s voice, but there was a real warning there too, and more than a hint of disdain. Laurent was reasonably sure the threat was hyperbole, but the way that his RVAB blazer strained at the Akielon’s shoulders and biceps planted a little seed of doubt in his mind.

“You really shouldn’t threaten me,” Laurent said.

“You threatened me first.”

“You don’t know who I am.” Laurent took a step forward, craning his neck to maintain eye contact. He was close enough to reach out and grab the beast’s red tie now if he wanted to. Close enough to smell the garlic on his breath.

The beast’s grin was sharp. “I’ve got a general idea by now, sweetheart.”

Laurent drove his knee up into the Akielon’s balls with the full strength of his body.

Then Laurent was on his back, gasping for air. The black-haired henchman had shoved him to the ground hard and knocked the wind right out of him. Somewhere, a woman was screaming, possibly praying.

“Motherfucker!” the beast moaned in Akielon. He was doubled over and cradling his groin with his hands. A crowd was gathering around them in the hall, choking the flow of foot traffic like a blood clot blocking an artery.

The goon moved to grab Laurent, but he scrambled to his knees before he could reach him and dove at the beast’s legs. Laurent wrapped his arms around the beast’s knees and attempted to take him down in some kind of improvised bear hug. But the brute was just too strong.

He managed to loosen Laurent’s hold on him by thrashing his right leg in kicking arcs. One kick connected with Laurent’s ribs, hard enough to bruise. The next sent the beast’s shoe smashing into his stomach. That one was worse.

A wave of nausea surged through him, followed by dull pain. Laurent collapsed onto his hands and knees. He wrestled the nausea back down by sheer force of will.

Through the pounding blood in his ears, he heard the beast’s voice above him.

“Do you yield?” the beast said. Laurent pulled himself back up to his feet.

“Do I yield?” he asked, incredulous. “I knew Akielos was not as advanced as Vere, but I had no idea you were still stuck in the medieval period.” There was scattered snickering among the bystanders.

The Akielon beast’s expression turned sour, his jaw sliding forward. “I’m trying to offer you an out, kid.”

Laurent leveled a long assessing look at the Akielon. An old lesson of Uncle’s floated in the back of his mind. A man’s body will tell you what his tongue will not, if you know how to read him.

Hands in tight fists, shoulders squared, every bulging muscle tensing against his school uniform—the brute had a short fuse, and he wasn’t even attempting to conceal it. Rage glittered openly in his dark eyes.

Laurent laughed, a sharp and bitter sound even to his own ears. “No, Akielos. I do not yield.”

He shifted his weight and watched the beast shift with him.

“Damianos,” the beast said, startling Laurent out of his head.

“What?”

“My name is Damianos.”

“I don’t care what your name is, brute.” Laurent lunged on the last word.

Then suddenly his feet lifted off the ground. A huge meaty club of a hand clamped around his bicep. Laurent thrashed and tried to pry fingers as thick as sausages from around his arm with his other hand. He turned, expecting to see the Akielon or his friend hoisting him up, but the face above him was much older, uglier, and hairier.

Coach Govart’s face twisted into a mean approximation of a smile, and he set Laurent’s feet back down on the floor. To Laurent’s surprise, in his other hand he held the arm of the beast—Damianos. Though Laurent doubted even Govart had been able to lift Damianos off the ground with one hand. No, only Laurent had suffered that humiliation. He felt his cheeks burning again, and scowled.

“Start walking, boys,” Coach Govart growled as he dragged both Laurent and Damianos down the hall. The crowd of students had vanished—scattered at the sight of Govart like rabbits fleeing a bear.

They only passed Damianos’s Akielon henchman and one other figure. The sight of her sent Laurent’s stomach swooping with dread again.

Sister Margaret held her rosary up to her lips as she whispered a fervent prayer. Her knuckles were white around the cross, and her face was ashen. When Laurent met her eye as Govart hauled him past, she shuddered and made a shaky sign of the cross.

Laurent wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. Instead, he lifted his chin and marched along with Govart as though he were the one leading that mad dog and not the other way around. He marched right up to the door marked Headmaster in golden letters, and knocked three times without being told.

“Enter.” His uncle’s voice was muffled through the wood, but still clear enough to be heard without mistake.

Govart released both boys. Laurent straightened out his blazer before opening the door, then sauntered right over to the chair he had sat in earlier that morning and plopped himself down into it. His uncle’s office was darker in the afternoon, now that the sun had fled the eastern sky.

“Hello, Uncle,” he said lightly, kicking his feet up onto his uncle’s desk, though never actually looking at his uncle.

He kept his eyes on Damianos instead, watching for the moment when the depth of his situation dawned on him. When it hit him, Damianos seemed to shrink. He stood frozen in the doorway, staring at Laurent with an expression of horror that was not dissimilar to the way Sister Margaret had looked at him in the hallway. It was every bit as satisfying as Laurent had hoped.

“Twice in one day, Laurent?” Uncle matched Laurent’s light tone. “Feeling neglected?”

Laurent shrugged. “I thought you might be bored.”

“You certainly know how to keep my days interesting. So,” he spread his hands, “who’s going to fill me in.”

“They were fighting in the hall,” Coach Govart said gruffly from the doorway. “Sister Margaret fetched me to break it up.” Laurent cringed at the mention of the old nun’s name. Uncle was definitely going to kill him.

“Thank you, Govart,” Uncle said with a slight nod, and his mad dog was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, and silence bloomed in the office. When Uncle spoke again, his voice was softer.

“Damianos. Please, sit.” Laurent dared then to look at his uncle and found him smiling at the Akielon boy like an old friend. Uncle was good like that. He always knew everyone’s names and could make anyone feel welcome anywhere. It was why everyone loved him.

Laurent didn’t have that gift—though Uncle would correct him and say it was a skill that anyone could learn. Laurent was inclined to disagree. People didn’t love him, and he didn’t imagine he would ever be able to make them the way Uncle did.

As Damianos shuffled over to the chair beside Laurent, Uncle frowned and tapped the toe of Laurent’s boot twice with his silver pen. With a scowl, Laurent lifted his feet off the desk and planted them flat on the floor.

“Good boy,” Uncle said, like it was a normal thing to say then. The fire returned to Laurent’s cheeks with a vengeance. He looked down at his hands in his lap, letting his hair fall like a golden curtain over his eyes. Soft rustles to his left told him that Damianos had sat down beside him. Laurent sent out a silent prayer that Damianos was not looking at him then.

“Damianos,” Uncle began again, “I hope you’re having a pleasant first day here at the Royal Veretian Academy for Boys. I see that you’ve already met my nephew, Laurent.”

Laurent heard Damianos’s throat click when he swallowed. “Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Please, there is no need for such formalities. Call me Father Laurent, or simply Father.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Tell me, what do you think of my nephew?”

The silence stretched on too long. That alone would have been answer enough, but Damianos apparently had a death wish. “Honestly, Father,” he said, “your nephew is very rude.”

To Laurent’s mortification, Uncle laughed. His rich, warm, genuine laugh. “He is, isn’t he?” He pointed a weighted glance at Laurent, then shifted his attention back to Damianos. “You are honest, aren’t you, Damianos?”

“I try to be, Father.”

Uncle spread his hands magnanimously. “Of course you do, my child. ‘And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you always, the Spirit of truth, which the world cannot accept, because it neither sees nor knows it. But you know it, because it remains with you, and will be in you.’ John, chapter fourteen.”

Laurent knew what was coming next, even if Damianos did not. His uncle’s smile was warm as a forest fire. “Damianos, tell me the truth of what happened between you and my nephew.”

Laurent turned his gaze back to Damianos and poured as much ice into his stare as he could muster. Damianos glanced at him and squirmed in his chair. He cleared his throat. Laurent narrowed his eyes.

“Well…” Damianos began, then flicked his eyes to Laurent again and stopped short.

“Go on,” Uncle prompted. “Give me the truth of it, son.”

“Yes, Father. Well, I was standing—I was leaning against his locker—well, I didn’t know it was his locker at the time, it’s right next to the one Father Herode gave to me this morning. Laurent came up to me and told me to move. I said—”

Damianos stopped again. Glanced at Laurent. “Go on,” Laurent coaxed sweetly.

“I, um. I said I would move if he asked me nicely—”

“This brute called me—”

“Is your name Damianos?” Uncle cut through. Laurent snapped his mouth shut. “Because I recall specifically asking Damianos to speak.”

Laurent bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from talking back. He held his uncle’s gaze as he pulled his left leg up and hugged it to his body, placing the sole of his boot directly on Uncle’s fancy upholstered chair cushion. Uncle’s face was a perfect statue. Laurent hoped there was dirt on the bottom of his boot. Maybe some gum or dog shit.

“Well, uh…” Damianos straightened his tie. “I don’t remember exactly what was said by either side, but some threats were exchanged, and then Laurent attacked me. I defended myself. I offered him the chance to walk away, but he refused.”

Laurent scoffed.

“I see,” Uncle said. “Thank you for your candor, Damianos.”

“Aren’t you going to ask for my side of the story?” Laurent interjected.

“We have established that Damianos is honest. You are not.”

“Luckily for you,” Laurent mumbled. Something dangerous flashed in Uncle’s blue eyes and it pushed Laurent’s head down like a physical force. He picked at a scab beside his thumbnail as though it was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. Laurent had a sneaking suspicion that he would be eating dinner alone tonight after all.

“I apologize for my nephew’s behavior, Damianos,” Uncle said. “You have to understand, he has lost a great deal to Akielos. He lost his father, my brother, in Marlas two years ago. That was only three months after the loss of his mother. And his older brother has been on the front lines in Delfeur ever since. I believe Laurent has misdirected some of his grief and anger at you, an Akielon within reach.

“It’s no excuse for his behavior, of course, but I hope it may provide some context.”

Damianos was silent for a moment. Laurent tried to sink into his chair. He was oscillating between embarrassment and boiling rage at his uncle for telling those private things to a stranger. And this Akielon stranger, of all people.

When Damianos spoke, his voice was soft. “I’m very sorry for your losses, both of you.”

“Shove it up your ass, Akielos.”

The brute exhaled sharply, a little noise of contempt.

“Laurent.” Uncle’s voice was like a whip. He softened it again when he spoke to the other boy, “Thank you for your kind words, Damianos. You are free to go.”

That’s it? Laurent wanted to protest, but he didn’t dare interrupt his uncle again.

“Please don’t hesitate to come to me in the future,” Uncle was saying, “for anything you or your family might need to help you get settled in Arles.”

Uncle rose and Damianos followed. Laurent stayed seated, but saw them shake hands in his periphery. Then he made the mistake of glancing at the photographs on the wall. Aimeric seemed to grin at him even more brightly than he had this morning. Laurent’s stomach turned violently, and he wondered what his uncle would do if he vomited on his Patran rug.

“Welcome to the RVAB,” his uncle said with a smile that Laurent could hear. “You’re a senior, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I may be biased, but I believe there’s no better education in Vere than what you’ll receive here. Our students are among the top picks of the most prestigious universities in the country. I hope to see you thrive here, Damianos.”

“Thank you very much, Father Laurent.”

“God bless you, my child.”

“And you as well, Father.”

Uncle walked Damianos to the door, and once the brute was gone, Uncle locked it behind him. He turned to Laurent; his face completely devoid of emotion. The coldness in his eyes sent a shiver down Laurent’s spine.

“You have displayed a callous disregard for school rules regarding violence, decency, and foul language. You have spoken out of turn. You have disrespected me, and you have disrespected God. Your behavior is a stain upon this school, upon this holy order, and upon the name de Vere.”

Laurent looked at his shoes. He was expecting it when Uncle said, “Fetch me the paddle,” but the expectation did nothing to quiet his pulse.

With shaking hands, Laurent took the wooden paddle out of the bottom right drawer of Uncle’s desk and brought it to him. Like an obedient dog with a stick, his mind supplied, if the dog was about to be beaten with the stick.

“Bend over the desk,” Uncle commanded, and again Laurent obeyed. “You will count out loud to fifteen.”

“Yes, Uncle.” Laurent closed his eyes and steeled himself for the pain, willing himself not to cry.

By the time Laurent said, “Fifteen,” he was weeping. He heard Uncle put down the paddle, and then he was at Laurent’s side with an arm around his back, helping him stand up.

“Why do you put us through this, Laurent?” Uncle gently brushed Laurent’s cheeks with his thumbs, drying his tears. “You used to be such a sweet boy.”

Laurent sniffled. “I’m sorry, Uncle.”

Uncle stepped behind his desk and sat down in his chair with a sigh. He slid the white clerical tab collar free from the neck of his shirt and set it on the desk. “Come over here.”

Laurent obeyed. Ceramic Jesus watched him gravely from his place on the wall. Laurent thought he looked cold now that the sun was no longer on him.

“That’s a good boy. God offers forgiveness,” Uncle said, “to all His children who repent and devote themselves to His teachings.” The belt came off next, the silver buckle singing like a bell. “Kneel, child. Show your devotion, and rise, cleansed.”

Laurent knelt before his uncle as though he were about to receive the body and blood of Christ through Holy Communion. This ritual was just as sacred, Uncle said. After all, he couldn’t physically get much closer to God than through the touch of a Bishop. When he rose again from beneath his uncle’s desk, though, he did not feel cleansed. Maybe I’m broken inside, he thought. Maybe my soul is beyond reach.

He wondered if his uncle ever felt like this. If the sated smile on his face was anything to judge by, Uncle didn’t appear to be troubled by the same doubt. Doubt is a test of faith, someone had told him once. He couldn’t remember who. It may have been his mother, or even Uncle himself. Regardless, Laurent repeated it in his head like a mantra, and it managed to put his mind at ease a little.

The bad feeling faded as the day went on, until he nearly forgot about it entirely. Instead, the thrill of carrying around a secret won over, and Laurent spent the rest of the school day feeling special, and more than a little smug about it. But later that night, when Laurent stood alone at the kitchen counter pushing rice around on his plate rather than eating it, the doubt returned. In the dark, silent house full of ghosts and secrets, there was nothing to keep the whispers in his mind at bay.

Laurent tried to imagine how he would explain all this to Auguste, if he had to. How he could make him understand. It was pointless, he knew. Auguste would never understand. No one would. Uncle said that only God would ever understand. That was why they had to keep it a secret between the three of them. But what if Uncle was wrong? What if God wasn’t in on the joke?

Laurent gave up on eating and resigned himself to a sleepless night of staring at his bedroom ceiling, cringing from shadows on his walls. If this creeping unease really was a test, he felt like he was failing.

[joe9cool]

COLLIDE -JUSTIN HERBERT-7

Sara decided to sneak away and sleep on the couch when Justin fell asleep. Her body didn't allow her brain to overthink. She fell asleep immediately.

When she woke up she found herself the same way. Justin was next to her, and Nova was at her feet. The sight made Sara smile, then she thought about last night or earlier this morning.

Why the fuck would Taylor be calling? Slowly, she got up and tiptoed to the kitchen counter where she left his phone.

There was one missed call, and then one text message. She looked over at Justin, who was still sleeping. She took her finger and tapped the screen of the iPhone.

Just like she thought though, it was password protected. She tried 4 different combinations for his birthday and nothing. Cursing softly, she didn't try any more attempts for fear that his phone would be disabled.

She reached for her phone and began scrolling through Instagram. Bored, she decided to go through Tumblr. Yes, she was the 2012- 2014 Tumblr girl but since fans her original account she had to make a fake fan one.

In her tags, she typed Justin Herbert. She found the usual photos, videos, and whatever people put in the tags. Sara found the blog section. She clicked on the first one.

The page was full of anonymous questions that the blogger was trying to answer. One remark was that he was following new girls while he was recovering. She got out of the app and went back to Instagram.

Finding his profile, she saw that the anon was right. His following Count went up,

And of course, he wasn't following her.

She got off her phone in general. She wasn't sure what to do. Was she supposed to confront him? What would she say?

Sara squealed when she felt an arm wrap around her. "You are so damn stubborn" He muttered, voice still sleepy. "I'm gonna have to tie you to my bed."

She shivered at the thought. "Maybe we can try that when you get better."

The room got hot. Her anger melted away. The sexual tension could be cut with a nice. Justin moaned, and his hand snuck up her sleep shirt to grab at her breast. "You'd like that huh? Tying you up so you can't move ." He pinched a nipple, then moved his hand slowly downwards.

Justin didn't know where this confidence came from. He wasn't much of a dirty talker. But one of the things he noticed was Sara enjoyed the sounds he made. She liked to make him fall apart and vice versa.

She was wet and he easily slid two fingers inside of her. He tried to steady his breathing as he felt the pain in his ribs. He probably should have asked the doc if sex was okay. Well maybe not, he wouldn't have gotten the answer he wanted.

As he began to pump in and out he was pushing his hard-on into her ass, well more like her back considering the height difference.

He added a third finger and shaped the round. Sara's mouth opened wide, her moans turned into cries as she came apart on his fingers. When she was able to turn around she was greeted by Justin's erection straining through his basketball shorts. She thought about it.

"How much pain are you in?"

"Umm."

"Justin Patrick, don't lie to me."

"It hurts, but this hurts more.” He pointed down. Sara still debated, then began to do the drawstrings on his shorts before reaching in and pulling his dick out. She slowly began jerking and he let off a soft moan. Sara sank to her knees and removed her shirt, after a bit she began licking his entire shaft, she heard Justin moaning but she saw he was tense. So she sped up, trying to make him finish as fast as possible.

“Sara” Justin rasped. “I want to be inside of you. Please” he trailed off in a moan as he finished in her mouth. After she swallowed, she got up from her knees. “Let’s wait til you are a bit more healed to try sex. Besides, you still can’t do certain things.”

“Well, I’m playing on Sunday so.” Sara whipped her head around. "What!"

Justin played it off. "I'm going to be at the facility reevaluating today. Plus it's just pain management if I get my injections. I should be good."

He was insane, he had to be, all those pain meds had to be getting to his head. "You need to sit out a few games."

Justin laughed. Which made her blood boil. "Good one babe, but the team and I have high expectations this year."

"We are talking about your long-term health which is more important. Justin this season doesn't matter if you're injured."

He muttered something which pissed her off. "What was that?"

He stood up straighter. "I said it's easy for you to say since you never played a sport."

"Don't you throw that in my fucking face! What are you my family now? I'm just trying to help you and see that just because the organization wants you to play doesn't mean you have to!"

He rolled his eyes. "Okay yeah let me just explain that I don't feel comfortable. Let down a whole fan base and the organization."

"The fans would understand, I mean on Twitter the fans want the best for you."

He gritted his teeth. "I don't give a fuck about what people on Twitter say. My life isn't on social media like yours."

"Says the guy who is on Instagram liking pictures of other women and can't follow his fucking girlfriend."

"Wow, really Sara? So that's what this is about? You're upset because I followed a couple of people? You know how I am. I'm private, I don't want anyone to know about me."

"I understand that but fuck." She almost brought up Taylor but decided against it.

Justin waited. "Are you done? Have you come to your senses? I have to get ready and head to the facility." He walked out of the room.

They ignored each other the rest of the time and once she heard his car pull out of the garage, she decided to let out some steam. She drove back to her house, got her roller skates, and came back to his house. His neighborhood was quiet, no one bothered them.

Little did she know she was being followed. Jack Lange, a well-known insider for OK magazine caught her as she was leaving her driveway. It was a slow day, so he decided to follow her. He wasn't in his usual hideout van, he learned to ditch it since it made it so obvious.

He was trailing behind Sara at a distance. As he followed her into Irvine, he became confused. She was never around this area, well at least where she was normally photographed. Jack knew she kept a low profile, so he didn't usually take too many photos especially if her family was in town.

However, as she pulled into an unknown driveway he pulled off to the next street. Typing in the address and street. He couldn't find any information on the owner.

He waited, maybe she was visiting a friend's house. It couldn't be someone on her team. Irvine wasn't a spot for celebrities or anyone in entertainment.

Slowly he turned the car back onto the street. He saw her again, she was rollerblading this time. Upon closer look, She was wearing a mask with a baseball cap with 'O' on it, also a shirt that looked way too big on her. Jack would guess that it was a man's.

Hmmm, this was interesting. Maybe this was a guy's house? Someone she could be seeing? If it was, this could be big news. Everyone saw how the whole thing with Harry Styles went down. This could be a big story. Hollywood's darling found new love?

He thought about calling his boss, but he didn't want to put too many leads on this case. If this led to a big story, he could reap the rewards. He would get a fat bonus.

Unfortunately, he couldn't stay like this forever, as he got a call from said boss saying that there was Kylie Jenner out and about. Saving the address in his GPS and his notes. He drove off.

—-----‐—---------------------------------------------

Justin was still pissed about the fight earlier. He wanted her for help and company not to be his mom. If he wanted to play, he was going to fucking play. No one was gonna tell him no.

As he got ready in the locker room, he spotted Ekeler walking in. "So a little birdie told me your girl stopped by a couple of days ago."

Justin rolled his eyes. Mike had a big mouth. "She's a friend, and yeah I forgot something."

"Man, come on she's more than that and you know it. I have never seen you like this over anyone. You're all in good spirits and you have a life outside of football. You took Staley's advice and relaxed"

"Look, we have just been hanging out together and having fun. That's all."

"Does she know that? Or are you stringing her along?" Justin was quiet. "She met your folks my guy that isn't just a 'friend'."

Austin took a deep breath and then continued. "You got Taylor coming around and asking us why you're not contacting her. No one has said anything, but someone is going to slip. She's not just going to go quietly. You owe her an explanation and you better do it soon before it blows up in your face.

Justin was fed up. "Look, my number one priority is football. This team, this organization, is all I care about. That's all I want to talk about." He got up and walked up signaling the end of the conversation.

Overall rehab was going okay. A couple of days, along with the exercises and meds have been going well. They were optimistic that he would be playing Sunday in Jacksonville. The rest of the day was spent watching videos and coming up with a plan of attack against the Jags and Trevor Lawrence. By the time Justin was back and getting ready to leave it was late.

Out of the corner of his eyes. He saw Austin approach him cautiously. Austin held his hands up as a defense mechanism. "Look. I get it. It's all new and you're not sure how to handle this new relationship and her career. But Justin, you got a good woman, a woman who has millions of guys lined up ready to take your place. Please realize what you have. Don't wait til it's too late."

Justin only nodded, still not wanting to have this conversation.

—------------------------------------------------

Sara still wasn't feeling better after rollerblading. It was now dark out, and she had gone out pretty far. So far, she didn't know where she was.

Fuck. She didn't know who to call, Justin? He didn't even text her back when she asked what he wanted for dinner. She just left it alone then. If he wanted to be a baby that was fine.

She was a stubborn woman, many people including Justin have told her that. She was also independent. Learning at a young age that asking for favors would have it thrown back in her face, especially being in this business.

As she tried to backtrack her steps she thought about the red carpet next month. Seeing Harry would bring back so many emotions. She wouldn't know what to say to him. The falling out between them and Olivia had been so brutal. She had seen how she had tried to do damage control, and her publicist reached out to Heidi to get her to play into her game. Sara was done with the act, not that ever went along with it in the first place.

She had also gotten a call from her agent saying she had to be in New York for a week for a photo shoot for Michael Kors's campaign. It was a big one she couldn't miss. Plus she could spend time with Ann-Sophie, and celebrate her God daughter's 2nd birthday. She just needed to tell Justin. Speaking of, Shouldn't he be home right now?

Eventually, she was able to trace her steps or blades and came back into an empty house. Deciding to order uber eats something, she found a local Mexican restaurant.

During her meal, she texted Justin.

I ordered Mexican, I got tacos in the fridge when you get home

An hour had gone by with no response. She was now pissed. At least fucking answer me she thought.

It was now ten pm and she was very tired, lately, exhaustion had been hitting her hard. This time she slept in the guest room again not wanting to be near Justin.

—------------------------------------------------------

Justin found himself at Taylor's place.

He had run into her in the parking lot, they began talking and he just followed her to her place. He felt bad about blowing her off and she was very persistent. Plus they were friends before anything became physical between them.

They had just talked, she told him about her vacation while he caught her up with his off-season.

"I saw you went to Joseph Grant's wedding." She took a sip of her wine. "It looked fun."

Justin smiled. "Yeah I had a good time, I'm glad Mike made me go."

"The whole cast was there right?"

He was wondering why she was asking. "Um yeah, I didn't pay attention."

Taylor sat on the couch next to him. "Well, I saw photos. Sara Wozniak is so beautiful. Did you see her?"

At the mention of her, Justin felt guilt wash over him. "Um yeah sort of, she said hi to me and we talked about the season. She's been to a couple of our games."

Taylor smiled. "Oh, I have seen her from afar. She was at the home opener. I wanted to say hi, maybe next time."

"Yeah maybe."

She scooted closer to him. "I'm glad you're here Justin." Her finger began sliding up and down her hand which made him nervous. "Did the doctor say anything about physical activity?" He knew what she was implying and it made him uncomfortable.

"Um yeah, I'm banned from physical activity."

"Well, I think you did a good job with the stretches today. I'm sure we could go a little further." He felt her breath on her neck. "I missed you."

As soon as her lips touched her neck. He jumped up, almost knocking her off the couch. "Listen, Taylor, I'm not comfortable with this right now. This injury Is pretty serious. I don't wanna mess up anything before the game."

He saw the look of anger and then confusion on her face. "Um well, in that case, uh who has been taking care of you at home?"

"My parents have done a pretty good job, I'm pretty set."

"But you can't have sex?" She got up and got close to him and wrapped her arms around him. Before he could speak she pressed her lips to his.

It lasted three seconds before he pushed her off. "I got to go. I'll see you later."

He grabbed his bag and practically ran out the door.

Once he got to his car he drove off a few blocks so he didn't have Taylor come down from her apartment.

Once he pulled over he let out the breath he had been holding. Holy fuck he just cheated. Well, they didn't establish where they were at. But he was dishonest. Taylor kissed him, not the other way around it.

He couldn't justify it, either way, either way, he felt like shit. He was having an internal battle with himself. What should he say? What should he do?

He looked at his phone to see the text messages from Sara which made him feel worse. After about ten minutes, he drove around his neighborhood for a good half an hour.

It was late when he arrived home. The lights were out, and when he peeked into the guest room Sara was sound asleep. This time he didn't bother her and went to bed.

—------------------------------------------------------

The morning came and went, and Justin wasn't there when Sara woke up. Which was odd, she expected a good morning or a kiss. ‘He was probably busy.’

Justin was probably back to his regular training. I mean it had been a week since his injury and he was feeling better, although Sara wondered if he would tell anyone the truth. After she got ready, she decided to head to the gym by her house before stopping by and packing for New York. She had spoken to Bella, who had agreed to let her stay with her since the apartment is close to the studio and she would be in Tokyo for their fashion week. Things were still sort of tense between them, Bella had no qualms about letting Sara know how she felt about Justin. She would be taking Erika for support, and well since she is her assistant it would work out well.

She packed the main things, all of her outfits for that week were waiting for her at the studio, she just needed her lounge clothes. She was halfway through packing when she got a text.

‘There's going to be a ton of press at the game Sunday. I’d feel better if you didn't.

She stared at the message in disbelief. Of course, because it would look too suspicious. She thought bitterly. How dare that be the first thing he said to her after not coming home. He wanted to be a jerk. Fine she could be one too.

'Actually my flight for New York leaves tonight. I'll be gone for a week and a half doing campaigns. Forgot to tell you'

She hit send and then called Erika to arrange a private jet as soon as possible. She was so pissed at him. Serves him right.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Justin was feeling relieved, he had to shoot an interview with Taylor on the field prior to the game Sunday and he didn't want Sara and her to have a run in. He didn't want to deal with that. It sucked that she had to be in New York. He wanted to apologize in person for how he acted (among other things) but he wasn't going to mention that.

He replied back. 'Miss you, have a safe flight. Text me when you land'

Within the minute he got the 'okay miss you' text.

—--------------------------------------------------

Sara loved New York, she thought about moving way too many times. Although that probably wouldn't happen.

They got to Bella's upscale penthouse as soon as they landed. After a shower and preparing whatever her friend had in the fridge. She read over the itinerary Heidi had sent over.

It was going to be a hectic week. As she was looking over everything she noticed something caught her eye.

Friday: Michael kors fitting

Saturday Michael kors shoot campaign

Sunday: Lexi's 2nd birthday party

Monday: Harry styles concert at MSG

Tuesday: the tonight show

Wednesday: finish Michael kors campaign approve final picture editorials

Thursday: flight 9:00am

She called Heidi.

"Sara my darling it's really late, I thought we'd discuss everything at the fitting tomorrow."

"I'm not going to Harry's concert."

"Oh dear, Harry's team reserved a seat for you in the front. I checked out the spot, no one will be by you, and you won't be near Olivia I promise."

"Not the point Heidi. I just don't want to deal with that."

"Look the executives at Warner Brothers want a united front, they are already upset you bowed out of all of the promotion for don't worry darling."

"They can't say anything. I did go to Venice, didn't I?"

"And you showed up late, gave the impression to Olivia you weren't going to show and threw shade " Heidi grumbled.

Sara couldn't help but smile at the memory. "Yeah that was great "

"If you want to work with Warner Brothers in the future you need to show at least your cordiality. This concert and taking pictures at the premiere are going to fool the fans. You're an academy award Nominee, you can sell it to the public."

Sara pinched her nose. "Look, I'll think about it. That's all I'm gonna say. I got to go, we got to be at the studio at 5am. I'll see you tomorrow."

She hung up. After doing her nightly skin routine. She got into the bed and decided to message Justin.

S: I'm in NYHow was practice?

J:good. Starting to throw. I should be ready for Sunday."

S:I'm glad. Any major issues?

J: No, I have been doing the injections for the pain and have been feeling normal. What are you doing right now?

S: I just into bed

J: without me? 😜

She snorted at the response

S: okay you little fuckboy.

J: you send pictures?

She giggled. Feeling a little frisky, she pulled down her tank top to reveal her breasts. After making sure her nipples were hard. She took the selfie of just her chest. After deciding it was good enough she sent it.

J: Holy Fuck. You fucking tease.

Deciding to push it further she pulled her shorts down to expose everything once getting the perfect shot she sent that

J: babe stop oh my god. You're perfect.

S: your turn Herbert

He didn't send anything for.a few minutes and she was beginning to wonder if he would send anything. Probably not guys like him don't want to risk it. Suddenly she heard the iPhone message notification.

J: I've never done this before so sorry if it's not very sexy

She opened the file to see his hand wrapped around his hard dick. She could tell the background of his bedroom.

S: I wish you were here. I give anything to have that inside me.

J: I love being inside you. It's like heaven. Get back on the plan right now.

She began playing with herself. Trying to replicate Justin's movements. Justin had ended up facetiming her and they engaged in facetime sex. It wasn't awkward as they thought it would be. It was nice, it was hot as they finished together. Sara had fallen asleep quickly as she had to be up in a few hours.

—---------------------------------------------------

Over the next couple of days it was pure chaos. Sara had to be up and ready to head to the studios. Her plandid paparazzi photos were hitting social media and everyone was eating them up.

She and Justin had barely kept in touch. They exchanged a couple of messages throughout the day and snuck a phone call at night. Sara missed him a lot, she missed his humor, his laugh, how he would go over plays with her.

She was happy, she was in love with Justin. So it wouldn't hurt to attend Harry's show? It would be his last night of his Residency at MSG. She missed his music, she had gone to shows when they were together and missed the electrifying atmosphere and all of his amazing fans.

This would show that she could put the past in the past. That she was ready to move on. Maybe they will become friends again, maybe they won't. But they would always have the utmost respect.

Sara never told Justin anything about Harry. He had never asked, so she didn't tell. She wondered if he knew, but he wasn't a big social media celeb gossip man so she doubted it. Speaking of, she kept checking Justin's status, as now it was going to be a gametime decision. She knew Justin wanted to play, and hoped it wasn't too serious for him to not play.

The pain shots seemed to be helping him a lot as she caught the video of him practicing. It was like nothing was wrong.

Another thing she was doing was checking Taylor's instagram. As of Friday night, she was in Arizona. Which settled Sara's nerves a bit. At least she wasn't too close to Justin.

She still didn't know how to approach the topic or how she found out about her. She could lie, say she was googling his name and hers popped up. It wouldn't technically be a lie. However she knew Justin would just brush it off, she needed to actually corner him where he couldn't deny or downplay it.

As she was sitting in the chair getting her makeup touched up for the next shoot, she decided to put off the topic for now.

The first half of the shoot went well, she was shown in casual street wear attire. After six hours, the crew decided to break for lunch. While Sara was munching on her lunch, she decided to check the Chargers news. She watched Justin's presser. He seemed annoyed, and tried to downplay his injury. Then she noticed the Twitter sidebar.

@TaylorBisciotti

THIS JUST IN: Justin Herbert listed as questionable for LAC vs. JAGS

Hmm that's odd. Justin didn't mention that this morning when they were texting. Also Taylor is in Arizona how the fuck would she get that info?

At any mention of her name put Sara in a sour mood. She thought back to the Tumblr blogs she found. Going through her book marks, she found the one blog she was looking for.

There were new responses

'Of course Taylor got the inside scoop first. She's banging him. Major perk I guess.

'I don't understand why she would want to damage her career like that.'

'Hey [blog name] there's a photo of Justin and Taylor going around on Twitter. They were spotted together at a restaurant'

That jolted Sara. The blog asked if it was recent to which the anon responded yes. Quickly, she went to Twitter and typed in the names. She did about ten minutes of scrolling to find nothing.

When she went back to the blog, she saw the anon was called out for not providing proof. This made Sara feel a little better, Justin wouldn't take that chance. He would be out and about with Taylor like that would he?

"Sara! We need to get you to the next outfit change."

Damn it, she spent her whole lunch fucking thinking of this shit. She needed to get it together.

The last six hours of the shoot were the worst. She was supposed to be smiling, laughing, playing in the leaves. Her face was showing nothing of those emotions. Her manager Jesi had to pull her aside and tell her to get it together.

Even then the photos were only decent.

They weren't the best, and The editing team had to work wonders for them to approve the final shot that would be in magazines, and the billboard on Times Square.

It was very late by the time Sara got back to the apartment. She did a once over of the gift she had gotten for Little Lexi. Her goddaughter was obsessed with peppa pig, with her father being British and all. It was going to be slightly awkward as Ann-Sophie had texted her earlier that Lexi's dad, George was bringing his new girlfriend, and that there had been a massive fight over it.

Sara never cared for George, she had met him while she was doing backup vocals for the 1975's new album. She had become good friends with Matty and the others. But she just couldn't stand the drummer. Unfortunately, Ann-Sophie was in town for London fashion week, and decided to drop by the studio for lunch. George was immediately smitten, and before Sara knew it, everyone knew they were a couple.

George was a London playboy, and there was no getting that through her best friend. However Sara thought it was going to be just a summer fling considering London and New York were miles apart.

Then a little after their first anniversary Ann-sophie and George sat all of their friends and families down and announced she was pregnant. Stunned, angry, were just some of the emotions that Sara felt.

Quarantine came, and although Sara wasn't happy about the pregnancy, she supported her best friend through phone calls and facetimes. And once little Alexandra 'Lexi' Daniel arrived in September 2020. It was love at first sight and she was proud to be her godmother. Even getting a little 'L' tattooed on her wrist with her parents.

George was a great dad, despite having a bad breakup. They tried to keep things cordial for the sake of Lexi, and if Ann-Sophie could do it, so could she.

Before bed Sara had texted Justin that she missed him. She got no response. He was probably still bitter that he was questionable for tomorrow.

Meanwhile all the way in Arizona, Taylor was excited that Sara Wozniak viewed her story.

—-----------------------------------------------------

The party was a hit so far, despite George and Ann Sophie's awkward introduction to Charli, it was so far so good.

Sara had taken Lexi to get their butterfly face paintings, and had played some peppa pig board games. She had conversed with Matty and both of Lexi's grandparents. She sorta felt like a host herself, helping with drinks and food setup. George had a carnival food truck style buffet. After fulfilling her godmother duties for now, she was in the kitchen having a glass of wine with ann-sophie and other castmates flew in. But despite having an overall good time, she was nervous.

Justin had messaged her saying he was going to do pregame reps and see how he felt, then make a decision on whether he was going to go for the pain shot and play.

The game didn't start til 4pm New York time, so she was going to have to wait and see. He didn't message her anything after that.

To make matters worse, Sara had seen that Taylor updated her Twitter status, and that she was back in Los Angeles ready to cheer on the bolts. It pissed her off to know end, and the alcohol wasn't helping anything. Again she understood Justin's privacy. But there was a stark difference between secretive and private damn it. She wanted to talk to her best friend about what this all meant, but this wouldn't be the time or place.

Well her best friend knew her too well. When they had the chance to be alone together while setting up the two tier peppa cake the questioning began. "So how's Justin? I saw he's playing today."

Sara got out the candles. "I just saw."

"Are you terrified?"

"Not really, he's been doing very well. " truth be told she was terrified out of her fucking mind. Justin had downplayed a lot about the pain. Sara had read up on the injection shot he would be taking, the risks of what happened to Tyrod. One wrong move from the O-line could get him more injured than he already was.

"Anyway. So how are you guys doing relationship wise? You guys are together right? It's official?"

"Yes it is. Everything is great." Sara lied. She knew she was being a hypocrite. If the shoe was on the other foot she would have given ant of her friends a mouthful and how he wasn't shit, and here she was. But again it wasn't the time or place.

Before any more questions could be asked. They heard a squeal from Lexi in the other room. Ann-sophie grabbed the cake while Sara had her phone ready to record. Seeing little Lexi's face light up with delight made everyone's cares go away. George and Ann-Sophie looked like a happy family as they posed by the other side of their daughter in her birthday high chair. Charli looked pissed at being left out. Sara tried to be cordial with her bit it seemed that the singer didn't want anything to do with anyone but George, not even his own daughter.

Sara was trying to distract herself by handing out gifts and more cleaning. Lexi loved the kitchen set her godmother gave her. She was a spoiled little girl, but her parents would never raise her to be a spoiled brat. Her mother made sure of that. It made her wonder how Justin would be as a dad. He loved kids, and his little diary entry of him wanting three like his family made her all warm inside.

Speaking of, she was trying not to spend all of her time looking on her phone, but she really wished she had an exclusive cable package with the NFL. She will be doing that the first thing when she gets home.

So far the Chargers were down 6-0 in the second quarter. She didn't glance at Twitter. She knew how it was, she had seen that Justin threw an interception. God she knew this was going to be bad. It only gotten worse as the Jags scored. She believed in Justin, she really did. But man was this tough.

As she heard her name being called, she decided to put the phone down until the game was over.

Duty calls.

—------------------------------------------------------

The game didn't end well.

Sara was baffled that he played the entire game. There were more injuries to the team's core. A team that should have been easily beatable blew them out. When she had gotten back to Bella's place

She texted him.

S: 'I am proud of you. Even though I think it was reckless for you to play the whole game'

J: I don't wanna talk about it. This is my job, you don't see me telling you how to do yours

S: My job doesn't involve long term injuries.

J: if you're just going to try to be my mom. don't talk to me

'Well fuck you then' Sara thought. Asshole.

She left it alone. Bored, she watched tiktoks for a good hour until she felt her eyes drop. But she was stubborn and continued on to Twitter.

What she saw next made her heart drop.

@taylorbisciotti: My exclusive interview with Justin herbert following the team's loss to the Jags

She clicked the video. It was Justin looking upset. Taylor introduced herself to the camera. However when she turned to look at Justin he smiled at her.

Sara's blood boiled.

He seemed to be sort of moody, however he made sure he was polite as always.

Couldn't be nice to the girl who's throat you came down. Motherfucker.

In that moment she was so mad she clicked off and opened her messenger app

To Heidi

Hey Heidi , I changed my mind, save the seats for my friend and I at MSG

[black-cat-2]

Appreciation post :)

I genuinely hope, those who are supposed to find this made it here. The others… welcome and congrats as you found my Tumblr account? Anyway. Today I got buried under a wave of appreciating emotions and got the urge to the get some stuff off my chest. And since I’m both terrible at expressing my feelings vocally and still want to make things clear for ya guys, I’m gonna be a cheesy little shit here cause I don’t wanna spam my Instagram story :)

Let’s start with Loreen. You have no idea how much I appreciate my friendship with you. Like, I honestly have a great time finally being able to meet up with you, more or less spontaneously. For so long our friendship built and grew and manifested mainly through texting cause we didn’t quite had the opportunities to actually hang out. To be honest, there was a time I was a bit scared that if we met up someday, our carefree light chatter wouldn’t get out cause I tend to retreat into my shell when actually meeting up with someone “for the first time”. God, I’m so relieved that didn’t happen when we finally made it. Anyway, I love your mom friend kind of way, the way you can randomly introduce me to new music that still kinda fits my style. The way you just make me… happy to make it a bit shorter :)

Stephanie! Your turn. Back in the day I would have never thought that our friendship would grow so much. No idea how, but I somehow am completely involved in your life and at the same time I don’t have the feeling that I’m some kind of intruder. And that means something cause I’m an overthinker… Please, never get me wrong when I tell you to stop playing the wingwoman - I do appreciate your efforts. The way you are just, well, you is weirdly reminding me of a sister and bestie combo, not gonna lie. You have that… warmth surrounding you that has me comfortable and relaxed around you. Also, to be honest, I have no idea how I earned that spot in your Instagram bio <3

Last but definitively not least, Michael. I’m sorry you had to scroll so much down to reach your spot in this. Guess I’m just an annoying little shit again ;) you’re my longest friend and definitively one of the most important people in my life. You’ve been there for me, no matter what each of us went through. Highs and lows. And you sure as hell earned your spot as the straight girl’s gay best friend. I know you’re struggling mentally with a lot, also about what kind of role you play in people’s lives. I never mentioned it that openly but since I get the struggle in that apartment I gladly assure you. No matter what. Even if I may have multiple best friends. You are my only male best friend. Only you. You remember when I talked in my story about physical touch and mentioned that I still respect boundaries? That was for you. Cause I know you’re not really comfortable with touch. That’s why I tend to instead go for quality time with you instead. No matter our banter and insulting each other, luv ya hubby :)

You guys are basically like a second family. One I could choose for myself. One that both supports me and kicks my ass if necessary. Each one of you has a big role in my life and holds an even bigger part of my heart. And to bring this to an end, I appreciate you guys. So much. And I couldn’t imagine being without you anymore. <3

[josiebelladonna]

it’s very quickly reaching the point where it’s almost pointless to go through any fandom tag now like star wars, star trek, or any cartoon network cartoon. nevermind my beef with stranger things for a second, even though it’s pretty much guaranteed to find something that mentions eddie muenster cheese in any tag now (it really is that inescapable): they are fucking chaos, and not the good kind, either: filled with irrelevant content and memes. it’s like those posts you see on instagram where op tags the most ridiculous things like the word #the and #meme , or a pic of soundgarden that has pearl jam or nirvana tagged because the 90s. the star wars tag does have a lot of art in it, though, which i love and found rather refreshing—inspiring, too! my moment with alex last night gave me a newfound love of the original trilogy and i’m putting the skywalkers, chewy, and han solo on my to-do list. but you scroll down a bit and it’s damnedest thing: the posts that have to do with star wars thin out and it turns into an absolute mess, a free-for-all.

it’s very quickly reaching the point it’s practically pointless to tag anything because this new generation of tumblrs pretty much killed the point of tumblr (said it before and i’ll say it again, if you guys don’t care, then i don’t care). i know, i sound like an old lady griping about kids on my lawn but tags are how you organize things and find people. come on, you know i’m right.

[stevethehairington]

Congratulations!! Honestly I’ve never seen a fic get anywhere close to 1k so 2k is so fucking impressive. That’s insane! I was wondering if you have any tips for bringing in readers? Obviously your writing is amazing. Currently I’m struggling to get 20 kudos. 😅

so sorry for the late reply, it's been a busy week! but thank you so much!!!!! i'm honestly so like shocked that it's managed to get up to 2k! it just baffles me that at least two thousand people have read/liked something that i wrote. it's incredibly validating and i just feel so so so grateful.

ooh, tips for bringing in readers hm.

share your fic on multiple platforms! obviously, once that fic is posted it's going to show up in the tags you've used on ao3 (assuming that's where you've posted it!), but you want it to reach more than just those looking on ao3, because not everyone looks in the general pairing tag or narrows their search down to the trope tags you may have used. so my advice here, is to take that link and make a tumblr post with it! make a tweet that includes it! throw that link up on instagram if you use that for fandom stuff. if you're in any discord servers for that fandom/pairing, drop the link there too! spread it around as far and wide as you can so you can get as many eyes on it as possible!

do not be afraid of some good ol' shameless self-promo! in the same vein as #1, don't be afraid to then promote those posts you've made about your fic! self-reblog, self-retweet, self-rewhatever! get your fic circulating! it's your blog/page/account, so you shouldn't ever feel bad about boosting up your own content!

find yourself a good group of friends who will hype the hell out of you and your works! not only is it ridiculously nice to have a group of people who you can talk with about fandom stuff, and spitball ideas with, and discuss theories or headcanons with until they turn into something more, but it is also soooo incredible to have people that are in your corner and that will read anything you put out and who will then also reblog/retweet/rewhatever your fics too! even if you run in the same general circle, they're still going to have connections with other people that you won't, so if they help you out by reblogging your fic, then that spreads it even further than just your own followers. and like, in my experience, fandom friends will be some of the most ride or die, supportive people that will stop at nothing to hype you up to the highest point they possibly can, so like hang onto them as tight as you possibly can because they are just the absolute best things ever <3

create some sort of banner/moodboard/graphic to go with the fic i have not personally done this, just because i am usually far too impatient once i finish a fic and i just want to get it up asap lol, BUT. i know that there are fics i've seen that have totally eye catching banners or moodboards or things like that that the writers will attach to the beginning of the fic but also to their promo posts, and those absolutely will grab attention! like, someone will be scrolling through the tag and see the banner/moodboard/whatever you made and go woah, that's cool, what is this? and they'll check out your post and if it's something they decide they're into, then the fic itself too!

i'm trying to think if there's any other advice i could give you, but tbh these are the things i stick to doing the most with my own fics. hopefully that was at least a little bit helpful!! i wish you the absolute best of luck, though! trying to get engagement on writing can be very difficult, but it's really awesome that you're putting yourself out there no matter what and sharing something you've created! that's so special and you should be very proud of yourself for that!!

(also, if your fic is a steddie fic or another st pairing that i'm into and you want to drop me the link i would totally love to check it out!!)

[illicitlimerence-writes]

close friends | t. holland

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader word count: 3.1k warnings: some language, some angst if u squint. otherwise it's just fluff and tom being tom. didn't proofread this. a/n: so tumblr decided to be a little bitch and deleted this t w i c e. so i had to write this t h r e e times. this came up in my head after i got like three notifications that tom posted something on his ig story, and then it turned out he deleted them. as always, english isn't my first language so i'm sorry if this gets confusing bye. also, i was listening to cardigan by taylor swift as i wrote this.

my masterlist

so we all know tom sucks at instagram. that's a surprise to literally no one. no matter how many times you tried to teach him he still doesn't get it, and it was only a matter of time before he finally posted something he shouldn't have.

it was just one of those days, you missed him like hell. he was away filming the third spiderman, and you had to stay behind because of work.

naturally, you relied on face time and texts to survive and fill the void he left behind. you loved talking to him, listening as he rambled on and on about his adventures on set. a love-struck look on your face as you tried your hardest to stay awake despite the urge to close your eyes.

eventually, sleep took over you, and you drifted off with the sound of his voice lulling you to sleep. he stopped talking abruptly when he didn't hear your soft chuckling in reply to the story he was telling.

instead, he saw your sleeping figure, long steady breaths moving your chest up and down. and he cursed himself for making you stay up so late for him. he took one last look at you, taking a screenshot of your sleeping form.

he quickly hung up the video call and opened instagram instead, uploading the screenshot to his story,

'missing my favorite girl, thank you so much for everything you do for me. x @yourusername'

the next morning you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing. at first, thought someone had died as one notification after another filled your screen. most of them came from instagram, so you opened that app first.

thousands upon thousands of mentions, tags and new followers. you frowned, and suddenly a text from your friend popped up at the top of your screen.

'omg just saw his story. so happy for u both'

who's story? what was going on?

you refreshed your timeline, and tom's icon appeared, a colorful circle around it. an odd feeling sank in your stomach. you tapped his icon and suddenly your screen was full of... you.

a picture of you, sleeping. tom's smiling form in a small rectangle on the bottom right corner.

oh god. you read the words he wrote, over and over again. your heart pounding in your chest, and a sudden wave of fear ran through your body. but then you read his words once more, and all you could feel was love. pure, unconditional affection.

sure, your families and closest friends knew about you, but you hadn't talked about making your relationship public yet, but there was nothing you could do now.

you sighed, leaning back on your pillows. a small chuckle left your throat.

you grabbed your phone once again, quickly facetiming tom. you knew he had an early call today, and you hoped you could catch him while he was still in his hotel.

it ran once, twice, and then you saw him, hair all over the place, bare chest. hands rubbing sleep off of his face.

"mornin', darling." he said, his raspy morning voice making you smile.

"hi, baby. did i wake you?" you asked, sitting up and crossing your legs.

"yeah but it's fine, princess. i did keep you up last night so it's only fair."

"i'm sorry about falling asleep on you, that was a really nice picture you took last night," you lifted one eyebrow, and watched as he smiled at you sheepishly.

"i thought you looked really pretty, you always look pretty," he said, grabbing the water bottle on his nightstand and taking a swing.

"thanks, i hope the whole world thinks so, too," you declared. leaning your chin on your fist, watching him expectantly.

he did not react like you had expected him to.

his breath hitched as he sipped his water, and suddenly all you could see was the cream-colored ceiling, as you heard him spitting out and coughing.

"tom! oh, my god! are you okay?" you asked, getting on your knees and holding your phone up to your face, "tommy?" you repeated when he finally stopped coughing, you could now hear his heavy breaths.

at last, you saw his curls appear from the bottom of the screen.

"wh-what did you just say?" his voice was rough, his chest heaving.

"are you okay?" you asked again.

"ye-yeah i'm fine. babe, what did you mean by 'the whole world'? did something happen?" he asked, frowning. you echoed his expression, watching him for a second.

“you posted a picture to your story,” you repeated, and he nodded.

“yeah, i posted it to my close friends, i-” he stopped mid-sentence, eyes growing comically wide. “oh shit, did i-” he caught himself off as he threw the phone to one side, you heard him fumbling around for his laptop and you snorted. “shit, baby, don’t tell me i posted it… fuck!” you couldn’t keep it in any longer, you broke out laughing.

“of course this is how the world finds out about us!” you continued giggling until your stomach hurt.

“fuck, princess i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to, i swear i- why are you laughing!?”

“tommy, tommy! it’s okay, baby, don’t worry. i’m not mad,” you stopped once you noticed his pouting. “it’s fine, my love, i don’t mind. sure it’s unexpected, and a little sudden but i wouldn’t have it any other way. i knew what i was getting into when we started dating,” you told him honestly, wishing you were there to give him a hug and kiss him all over.

“darling, i’m really, really sorry. i swear i thought i tapped the green button like you told me to” he continued his sulking, nervous eyes glancing back and forth from his laptop screen to you.

“i know, baby, i know this is not your forte, and i really appreciate the sweet gesture, honestly. i love you so much,” you told him as you bit your lip. folding your legs to your chest, wrapping one around them.

“god, i love you. i swear i’ll make it up to you,” he ran his hand through his hair, giving you a quick peek of his bare chest.

“i’ll hold you to it,” you chuckled, you glanced to the clock on your nightstand, sighing when you saw the time. “i’ve gotta go,” you said as you stood up and stretched. a wicked idea ran through you head. “i’ve got like five meetings today, so i’ll probably be busy most of the day. just in case i don’t reply or something,” you made up you lie quickly. grabbing your laptop and opening a new tab.

“oh, okay. i’ll be on set until like 1 am, so we’ll talk tomorrow?” he asked, eyes bright. you nodded, biting your lip.

“definitely. i love you,” you blew him a kiss. he smiled, and you felt your heart swelling.

“i love you, too. good luck today!” he said as you reluctantly hung up the call.

you immediately got to work, calling your assistant and telling her you were taking a few personal weeks, and to email you in case of emergencies. next, you texted harry, asking him to call you once tom was busy on set.

you waited for the page to load, and once you had bought your one-way ticket to atlanta you hurriedly threw some pre-planned outfits into two suitcases, just in case. your phone rang and harry’s face popped up on your screen. you quickly answered the call, and let him know of your out-of-the-blue plan. he agreed to meet you at the airport and drive you to set. and because of your recent and sudden rise to fame, he suggested you wear all black and a cap. you followed his advice, throwing on some sunglasses as well, as you had seen tom do many times before.

once you reached the airport and checked-in, you bought some coffee and breakfast, as well as some food for the flight. you opened instagram, seeing all the messages and comments. you had seen how the fans reacted when their favorite celebrities announced a relationship, and you knew to expect the meanest comments, and even death threats. for your own sake and peace of mind, you allowed yourself to scroll until you read three of those, and closed the app.

once the plane took off, you tried to catch some sleep, preparing for the inevitable jet lag, but your mind kept buzzing from one scenario to another. so you took out your book and tried to read some chapters, putting in your earbuds, music playing quietly.

when you finally, finally landed, you stretched your legs and grabbed your bags, putting on the cap and sunglasses again, you spotted a familiar head of wild curls. you quickly approached harry.

“what happened to all black and a cap to go unnoticed?” you asked as he took one of your bags in his hands.

“think about it, two kids wearing black, a cap and sunglasses? people would think we’re up to no good.” he gave you a tight hug, you’d missed him almost as much as you’d missed tom.

he caught you up on everything he and tom had been doing these past months, you shifted in your seat in excitement, the sleep that was slowly taking over you on the plane had now disappeared from your body.

in what was probably a 15 -but to you felt like five- minute drive, you got to the hotel to leave your bags and take a quick shower. harry left you alone in tom’s room, making his way to his own room next door. he said he’d order something for you to eat whilst you got ready to see tom.

you took the quickest shower ever known to humankind, and when you walked out of the bathroom after using tom’s shampoo and conditioner, -you’d missed his smell all over you. the few forgotten hoodies and shirts that were once drenched in the smell of his soap and cologne, were now very faint.- you wrapped a bathrobe around your body, rummaging through tom’s clothes until you found one of his shirts.

you pulled it close to your face, sighing at the familiar scent you’d missed so much. you got dressed quickly, grabbing your now fully-charged phone and the key to tom’s room that harry had left on a coffee table. you knocked on harry’s door and he let you in.

“i just texted tom, he says they’ve got like three hours left.” you sat next to him on the couch, the table in front of you filled with food waiting to be devoured.

“my poor baby, they overwork him,” you pouted, reaching for one of the plates.

“it was his idea, said he’ll do anything that helps finish filming sooner.” you stopped chewing your food.

“wait, really?” you asked in disbelief, you knew tom loved his job, and you found it odd that he wanted to cut his time on set short.

“yeah, it’s been rough for him. not having you around, i mean, after he spent months with you. he’s been pretty distracted lately. messing up lines, he’s been waking up late and missing early calls...” your heart sank at the words. you ate the rest of your food with a knot in your stomach, cursing yourself for not getting there sooner. soon enough, you were back in the car, your leg bouncing up and down. you fell asleep on your way to set, waking up when harry parked the car and nudged your shoulder.

you stepped out carefully, your head turning back every few steps you took, in fear that tom might catch you. once you reached the stage where tom was filming, you flashed the visitor badge harry had given you to the guard and he let you both in. you walked in as you leaned down, your forehead against harry’s back, shielding you from the curious stares. harry told you to hide behind a giant box where they kept some lights whilst he spoke to the director.

although the box was big and tall enough to cover you completely, you crouched down, straining your ears for nearing footsteps. you heard two sets of feet approaching, your heartbeat racing.

you were met with your accomplice, a friendly-looking man behind him. you stood up as they approached you.

“this the girl?” the man asked, and harry nodded, “nice to meetcha, i’m jon.” you shook his hand, “okay, so we’ve cleared tom’s schedule for one week, we’ll need him back fully recharged and ready to work like it’s his first day on set, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, if it means he’ll work better if you’re here you can stay until we're done. i really don’t mind, i just need my guy back.” you blinked at his words, nodding slowly. “we’ve got a couple hours left tonight, i’m all up for some cheesy reunion, but it’ll have to be when we’re finished, i can barely keep him focused as it is.”

with that he left, and harry led you to tom’s trailer, where you caught some sleep while you waited. like that morning, you woke up to your phone buzzing. you reached for it, sleep leaving your body as you read the text.

‘just finished filming for the night, i’m exhausted. miss u, love you. x.’

all rational thoughts left your head, you opened the door to tom’s trailer and sprinted out of there until you reached the set. your eyes finally, finally met his figure, and tears filled your eyes.

your legs moved on their own accord, you mumbled apologies as you crashed into people, but you didn’t care. tom had his back to you, and even though he wasn’t wearing the spiderman costume, you’d recognize that ass anywhere.

“tom!” you called out, stopping a few feet away from him. you saw him whipping his head around, eyes scanning the sea of people. you made your way up to him, “tommy!” you repeated, and he finally turned around.

his mouth wide opened in disbelief, arms twitching, feet running towards you as you did the same. you crashed into each other, your legs wrapping around him, arms around his neck, fingers curling on his soft hair. his hands running all over your back, your hair. pulling you as close as humanly possible.

whispers of ‘i love you’, ‘god, i missed you’, ‘never leave me again’, and ‘i promise’ were exchanged. you tightened your hold on his hair, pulling back to look at him.

“hi,” you whispered, your nose brushing his.

“hey,” he replied, burying his face on your neck again, pressing small kisses anywhere he could reach. his hands settled on the back of your thighs as he spun you two. you giggled, sniffling as a few tears escaped your eyes.

you could not care less about the people around you, all you could think about was the boy wrapped all over you, your favorite boy. tom led you back to his trailer, where you finally untangled yourself from him. he settled you down and you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close to you again.

you had been starved of his touch for so long, there was no way you were letting him go anytime soon.

after many kisses, touches, tears, promises and more kisses, you left for the hotel. harry had already left, getting a ride from another cast member to leave you two alone. at that moment you swore you’d make him godfather of your firstborn child.

as you waited for tom to step out of the shower -you would’ve joined him, but three showers in a day seemed kind of excessive-, you laid down on the bed, throwing the covers over your body, tom's scent engulfing you. you breathed in happily. you tapped on your phone, replying to some work emails when you received a text from harry.

‘i believe the ball is in your court. you’re welcome.’

next, you received a picture of you and tom. harry must’ve taken the picture when you and tom were too lost in each other to even notice anyone around you. in the picture, your legs are around tom, bodies pressed closed together, your noses touching as you stare lovingly into each other’s eyes. it was a beautiful picture. and the black and white filter harry had applied to it made it seem like one of those old pictures of wives reuniting with their spouses after the war.

you smiled, heart swelling with emotion as you contemplated your options. you hummed quietly, tapping the instagram logo and waiting for the app to load.

you quickly uploaded the picture harry sent you tagging both him and tom and adding a quick caption before you shut down your phone. you were drifting off to sleep when you felt familiar arms around you.

you leaned into tom’s touch, your back resting against his chest, legs tangling with his as he interlocked his fingers with your own.

“thank you so much for being here, my love. i love you,” tom whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“i’ll be here whenever you need me. i’ll always come back to you.” you turned around, facing him. you kissed the corner of his lips, and he cupped your cheek, his lips meeting yours in a slow kiss, filled with emotion. your fingers played with his fingers as you moved to straddle his waist. “i love you,” you broke the kiss reluctantly. as much as you both wanted to make love that night, you’d made it your top priority that tom took his time off to rest as much as he could, and that included that first night.

you gave him one last kiss, going back to your previous position. the familiar and comfortable weight of his arms around you, the feeling of his lips on your neck, his chest rising and falling against your back, you couldn’t ask for anything better.

the peaceful environment you had created suddenly burst like a bubble as tom’s phone pinged over and over again. you heard him grunting, arms reluctantly leaving you.

tom chuckled, putting his phone on do-not-disturb and throwing it somewhere on the bed.

“you’re perfect for me, my favorite girl.” you smiled, leaning into his touch as he kissed you all over. sleep quickly taking over both of you.

tom swore his heart stopped when he’d seen the picture you posted. you’d never looked more beautiful than when you were staring up at him, your bottom lip between your teeth. the words you wrote as a caption were the last thing on his brain as he finally succumbed to sleep.

‘i said, “i bet you can’t keep this a secret for five months.” he said, “darling, i won’t make it past three.” @ tomholland2013 it’s been 10 months, who won?’

edit: i just saw henry cavill's ig post and omg what is my life. pls respect celebrities' privacy and relationships.

[homo-sex-shoe-whale]

Online shipping, the fetishisation of gay men, and the romanticisation of queer trauma

An essay by me!

Word count: 2.8k

A link to the Google Doc version of this essay.

A big thank you to my friends Nathan @themeerkatnate, Mav @not-mavv , and Duke @dukedark-ness for reading this essay and giving me their thoughts as mlms on the topic. Make sure to check out their blogs and give them a follow!

So I was on a lovely website by the name of Twitter.com yesterday, just scrolling through while having my afternoon cup of coffee, when I saw that viral post of a girl reading a Larry fanfic through a classroom projector. I'm sure most of you have seen it. It's gone viral on Instagram, TikTok, and likely Tumblr too, and if you haven't come across it I'm positive you will soon.

Now, after getting through my initial reaction to that post which was, holy fuck, that's so embarrassing, I had a second reaction of... wait, this ship is still around?

And after I had some thoughts on the incredible permanence of some online ships and the weird obsolescence of others, I did get to thinking of how lots of these popular ships seem to stem from the same types of perceived relationship dynamics and homophobic stereotypes.

These online fandoms often seem to have an obsession with objects of queer trauma, such as having to hide a relationship, lying about sexuality for self-preservation, and even social rejection. So, after some opinions from my followers and the great archive that is the internet, I've decided to discuss some of the most popular examples of online shipping and the particular nuances they came with.

NOTE: Out of respect for all these people, I won't be sharing viral images or videos of them in perceived romantic proximity (or even kissing, as is applicable for some examples), but I will be describing certain moments I deem to be relevant. So even if you're unfamiliar with them, you won't be confused as to what I'm talking about.

NOTE 2: Although not all people within these fandoms were/are toxic, this essay is focused on the overall toxicity of the fandoms, and how they are toxic more so as a "hive" than as a group of individuals. When I refer to a fandom I don't mean every person involved in the fandom, but rather the collective impact of the group.

 1. Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson 

This is arguably the most popular example of online shipping. The absolute permanence of this ship, and how its fandom never seems to fully die off even beyond the lifespan of One Direction as it once stood, is downright impressive.  

I'm going to be the first to admit I was never in the loop with this fandom. My childhood best friend was actually a massive Larry shipper and asked me to beta read one of her fics, but that was before I even knew who tf Harry and Louis were! Not because I avoided the fandom or even because I rejected the online shipping, but just by coincidence, I delved into the world of pop punk music right when One Direction began gaining its popularity. I bought my first ever album, Riot by Paramore, in 2011- only a year after One Direction made their X-Factor debut. So, this fandom just bypassed me by a sort of weird coincidence.

But I don't need to be in the loop with this fandom to know the astronomical obsession with these two men, no, these two BOYS, was extremely toxic. In 2010, when One Direction made their debut, Harry Styles was only 16 years old. And Louis Tomlinson wasn't much older at 19! This made the two of them incredibly young when this unprecedented wave of shipping hit the internet, and although that must be traumatising for anyone, I cannot even fathom how overwhelming it must've been for two boys that young.  

I'm 18, almost 19 now, and I cannot begin to imagine how scary it was for the two of them to have their every interaction nitpicked within an inch of its life by thousands upon thousands of people online. I do not know this myself, but from numerous recounts by some of my followers, this massively impacted Harry's and Louis' nondescript relationship in real life, seemingly driving the two previously close friends apart. 

Now, before we move on, there's something we need to talk about. And that is the obsession with the dominance/submission dynamic within the world of gay shipping. 

With almost every popular mlm (an acronym meaning man-loving-man) ship based on real people, it seems that fandoms have a particular fascination with power imbalances in these relationships. You don't even need to look at the insane amount of fanfictions based on BDSM to figure this out. In almost all of the examples I'll be citing today, there is an age gap within the perceived relationship and a person the fandom has seemingly decided to be the top/dominant figure. 

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are 3 years apart in age. Although it isn't all that relevant now, an age gap of 3 years when you're in your late teens is a lot more significant. In 2012, for example, when this shipping really started gaining traction, Harry Styles was 18 and Louis Tomlinson was 21. That power imbalance, albeit not that significant, is enough for a fandom to latch on to. We'll see this a lot more in the coming example with Dan and Phil.

 2. Dan Howell and Phil Lester

It's impossible to have a discussion about internet shipping without talking about Dan and Phil.

 Dan Howell and Phil Lester, although being popular YouTubers individually, are arguably one of the internet's most iconic duos. The two creators published their first videos together in 2009, and while their relationship was already a motive of speculation back then, the peak of the "Phan" shipping definitely came in the 2013-2016 era of Tumblr.

Now, I'm going to admit… I was actually on Tumblr when that happened. 

The 2013-2016 period perfectly aligns with my middle school days (I started middle school in 2013 and high school in 2016), and I was not only on Tumblr back then, but I was on Wattpad too! Again, this wasn't a fandom I had much contact with as I had a huge anime phase in middle school and I was on Tumblr posting mainly photography and Soul Eater content more than anything. 

But I did watch some of Dan and Phil's videos! And the occasional "Phan" content did not completely evade me as one of my closest friends in middle school had a fanchat for them. I wasn't involved in the fandom myself but they were actually one of the few English-speaking YouTubers I watched once in a blue moon (back then I watched mainly Brazilian YouTubers). One thing I did in fact notice over the years, around 2014ish perhaps, was that the two of them seemed to grow increasingly "awkward" around each other, in a way that many folks on the internet thought was reminiscent to Markiplier/Jacksepticeye, two YouTubers who also dealt with extraordinary amounts of shipping.

I'm not the only one who thinks this. The change in Dan and Phil's relationship, at least to the outside world, was clear to almost anyone who watched their videos for a while. I cannot blame them at all. The shipping was nuts. Between the countless fan videos, speculative comments, and insurmountable number of fanfics, there's no way the two of them didn't feel the weight of the shipping. The term "demon phannie" made its way into internet vernacular and there it stayed for years. Even Shane Dawson, who was one of the largest creators on the platform at the time, made several videos speculating on the nature of Dan and Phil's relationship and their sexual orientations. 

There was even porn made in which actors with similar appearances to the creators were made to have sex on camera. 

Now, this is actually a rare example where the two people involved in the ship actually came out as gay once the shipping seemed to die down. I'm incredibly happy Dan and Phil both reached a point where they were comfortable being publicly out, but I hate to say I'm shocked this day ever came. If I'd gone through what the two of them did, I don't know if I'd ever trust the internet. 

And again, this ship's fandom definitely had an obsession with the power dynamics they thought existed between the people within the ship. Dan Howell is 4 years younger than Phil Lester, and was only 18 in 2009, when they started making videos together. From my personal understanding, the shipping was often quite focused on this dominant/submissive dynamic especially in discussions from their early relationship. And this is in no way exclusive to Dan and Phil.

This general fascination with the older man/younger man dynamic, in my opinion, plays into the homophobic stereotype that gay men are predators. The idea that gay men usually seek younger men, and somehow "convince" them to engage in homosexual relationships, is popular homophobic rhetoric. The popularisation, exaggeration, and fetishisation of these power imbalances, in age and/or in relationship dynamics, is directly harmful to the mlm community. 

Not only that, but the romanticisation of a "hidden/forbidden relationship" is also detrimental not only to gay men and the mlm community, but to queer people as a whole. Queer people face huge trauma having to hide their relationships; queer attraction is already a societal taboo. And acting like this is good, or even desirable, is harmful to queer people as a whole, regardless of whether or not it's actually applicable to the people being shipped. It normalises this trauma not only to cisgender, heterosexual people, but to impressionable queer youth who grow to believe this type of trauma is to be expected. 

3. Frank Iero and Gerard Way

This is another example where the perceived power imbalances between the two subjects of the shipping were directly exploited online. Now, this ship did precede the others mentioned above. If we're looking at this topic chronologically, this particular ship did come first in the shipping timeline. It's closer to the origin of the shipping extended universe, if you will.

In case you aren't familiar with them, Frank Iero and Gerard Way are both members of the American emo band My Chemical Romance. This ship is the first one here of which I don't recall the full popularity. It really peaked in popularity around the late 2000s, circa 2008. And I don't remember this moment online as in 2008, I was only 6 years old and believe it or not, I wasn't really all that concerned with rumoured homoeroticism as a first grader. 

However, the popularity of this ship did carry over into the 2013-2015 Tumblr shipping boom. The emo fandom (or "bandom" as it was called) involving not only My Chemical Romance but other similar bands such as Fall Out Boy, Panic! At The Disco, and Pierce the Veil, found its hub on Tumblr. 

During this time, I did in fact listen to this style of music, but was focused a lot more on the anime side of Tumblr as mentioned earlier. Of course, I wasn't 13 years old like, "hey, this type of content might be harmful and can inadvertently perpetuate homophobic stereotypes," I just happened to care more about my silly little anime and ended up not getting involved. 

This ship does involve a discussion that the others don't, however. With Frank Iero and Gerard Way, there is quite often a certain sentiment of, "Oh, they brought this upon themselves!" as the two band members very famously kissed during a show in 2007. In my opinion, though, this doesn't really justify all the obsessive shipping. If you look at Green Day, a band often grouped in with MCR as another famous pop punk group, the members don't follow too different of a trajectory. Billie Joe Armstrong has, on numerous occasions, kissed both of his fellow band members onstage- particularly Tré Cool, the drummer. And Billie Joe Armstrong is openly bisexual, which none of the members of MCR seem to be but some, or even all of Billie's bandmates, are too. 

You'd think Green Day would face a lot more shipping as the more persistent onstage homoeroticism and Billie Joe's openness about his sexuality would warrant more "substantiated" speculation. However, Green Day faces nowhere near as much shipping as My Chemical Romance. Why is this? I actually don't know. It might've been because Green Day has been around for over a decade longer and generally has an older fandom, but I really am not that sure. 

 It could also be because of the lower lack of potential for forced relationship dynamics. The members of Green Day are all less than a year apart in age and are even similar in height. However, Frank Iero is 4 years younger than Gerard Way, who is not only the frontman of My Chemical Romance, but also considered to be the group's intellectual and creative "leader". Even beyond that, Gerard Way is quite visibly taller, and the perceived power difference between the two of them definitely did not elude their fans. 

This difference could even be partly due to the lack of a "mystery" with Green Day. There's not as much to speculate as, well… the members of Green Day are already open about their sexual orientations. It might be that shipping in the Green Day fandom has less of a forbidden appeal for most people. 

Of course, I won't just keep repeating myself, but my previous points about forced relationship dynamics still stand.

4. Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch

Better known for their roles in BBC Sherlock as Sherlock and Watson, Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch unfortunately had their roles follow them well into real life. This is the example I know least about, so have these thoughts from a follower by the name of @indubitably-a-goblin, who had the following to say:

"the main issues i had with it were:

a) they were both married at the time, freeman to amanda abbington and cumberbatch to sophie hunter (in which both had children)

b) the main reasoning for it was their chemistry in the many projects they've done together. which is, shockingly, their Whole Job. They're actors! That's what they're supposed to do! if they weren't good at interacting then they wouldn't be good actors! i don't know how people can't understand this.

c) they're real people. we don't know them. we aren't friends with them. we aren't their family members. we have zero right to be pushing this onto them and ruining their friendship by doing so. (this one relates to most of the ships you've mentioned though)

d) healthy friendships between two men are ignored so plainly in most medias and in fandom. its obvious that these two men have a relationship, but that doesn't mean it's a romantic one.

e) its fine to ship their characters, but actors shouldn't be treated as less-than-human or some sort of prop. they're doing a job, and once they are off-screen, they aren't here for your entertainment."

I believe she did a great job of summing it up on her own, and for the sake of avoiding redundancy, I'll leave it at that!

5. Corpse Husband and Sykkuno- an emerging yet subtle example

I am absolutely positive you remember how popular the game Among Us was a couple of months ago. And with the popularity of this game, some of its most prominent content creators became the targets of online shipping- as is the case with YouTubers and streamers Corpse Husband and Sykkuno. 

Although the shipping involving these two creators is nowhere near as strong as it was/is with the examples above, I do think there is once again a reemergence of a common theme here. Whilst Sykkuno is known for his happy-go-lucky, almost "innocent" persona, Corpse Husband is the antithesis of this, known for his much darker and moodier personality. 

Do I even have to mention what the common theme seems to be?

Again, although the popularity of shipping - at least with real people - seems to have died down a bit since the Tumblr shipping boom of the early to mid 2010s, I do believe this example is worth mentioning. Even though the creators are still close, they have in fact expressed discomfort regarding the shipping, and I can only hope the internet as a whole lets their friendship blossom and exist naturally without obsessive speculation. 

My final thoughts

As explored in the essay:

The romanticisation of objects of queer trauma as a part of online shipping normalises queer trauma to both cishet and queer youth. 

Online shipping, especially at a high intensity, can end up negatively impacting the very relationships they pine over. 

The relationship dynamics often forced on mlm ships perpetuate homophobic stereotypes about non-heterosexual men. 

If anyone else has thoughts on this matter, do share! This essay is moreso an opinionated observational piece and isn't meant to be taken as fact but rather just as my thoughts on the matter. I hope it was useful as a reflective piece regardless!

Date of posting: June 16th 2021

[idy-ll-ique]

Paparazzi.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: TOO META, m*sturbation, mentions of s*x

Requested: nope

Summary: I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me... Y/N Y/L/N writes Marvel fanfictions. One day, Sebastian stumbles upon her account and, unable to help himself, reads all the stuff she has written about him. He didn't mean to fall so hard for her but he does. How can he not? She has shown him parts of himself that he never even knew existed.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Okay so a few weeks ago I read a similar (but dark) fanfic and I really wanted to write a softer version of it... Enjoy!

---

Same old, boring routine.

Y/N hit post and slumped against the headrest of her bed, sighing. She waited; a minute, then two passed and she noticed that someone had liked her post. She smiled to herself as she kept her phone away. Though boring, she wouldn't trade her life for the world. Y/N… well, she was a university student first and foremost but she was also a writer.

Being a big fan of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, she had started writing fanfictions a few years ago. She posted them on Tumblr, where her blog, though not very well-known, stood out enough for her posts to get around 800-1000 likes per post. She loved it; she loved writing, she loved posting her stories and especially, she loved the feedback.

Sometimes people were rude, but most times, the reviews she got were fantastic. She read each and every one of them, smiling goofily as people freaked out over her fanfictions. It warmed her heart. A smile automatically blooming on her face, Y/N lay down on the bed and decided to go to sleep, it being almost 3 am.

Unbeknownst to her, someone else was up at the same time, tossing and turning in his bed, restless.

Sebastian sighed as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. He drank some water and lay down again, closing his eyes but it was like sleep was mad at him. Refused to be anywhere near him. He groaned to himself and picked up his phone from the nightstand, deciding to go through Instagram, hoping he'd finally fall asleep to the glare of the screen.

As he logged into his account, he skipped the activity page and went straight to the explore page. Bored, he continued scrolling until his eyes landed on a specific photo. And the breath escaped his lungs when he clicked on it; the woman in the picture was absolutely gorgeous. He just couldn't resist going to her page, smiling widely when he read her bio.

It gave him her basic information; her name, her age, the university she attended. But what caught his eye was the link below the bio. My Marvel Fanfictions Master List. Marvel fanfictions? She was a writer? Smirking, he clicked on the link and it took him to Tumblr. Of course, he'd heard of the site, but didn't have an account on there. At 3 am, his mind sure wasn't working right.

A post popped up on the screen, the same master list she had mentioned earlier. And his eyes bulged out of their sockets; damn, those are a lot of fanfictions. He went through the whole thing, smirking again when he noticed that she had written the most fanfictions about him. Not Bucky Barnes, no, Sebastian Stan.

He clicked on the first one. The date of posting was way back, in 2019. He started reading; nothing about it felt weird to him; he was intrigued, if anything. And as he continued reading, he couldn't help but imagine her being in the stead of the female protagonist. Her, the writer. The woman whose picture had made him end up reading in the first place.

When he finished the story, his heart thudded wildly in his chest. Wow, she really has a way with words. And he had also noticed how in the author's note, she used a lot of slang but reading the story had made him realize that she had an amazing, extensive vocabulary. He went back to the master list and clicked on the latest post under his name.

Posted: 15 minutes ago.

His breath hitched in his throat when he read the warnings: there was going to be sexual intercourse in this one. For one moment, he hesitated; did he really want to read this? "Oh fuck it," he huffed and scrolled, starting to read. The more he read, the more his shaft twitched in his pants. He wasn't really like that during… but oh damn, he wasn't complaining.

"Oh, Seb…"

His hand slid down and he rubbed himself through his boxers, unable to take his eyes off the text in front of him. His strokes got harder and faster as the sex got steamier. "Ungh, I'm gonna cum—" And he suddenly came in his boxers, groaning. Slumping down on the bed, he quickly finished reading the rest of it, going back to the master list.

He took a screenshot with the account's name in it and then went back to her Instagram account to take another screenshot. Keeping his phone away, he slipped out of his boxers, cleaned himself and pulled the covers on top of him, finally feeling tired enough to fall asleep.

---

Y/N was walking across the campus of her university, going to the cafeteria when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Taking it out, she opened Tumblr to read the message someone had sent her just then.

his-username: Hi there! I was binging your account last night, you write really well

your-username: Omg thank you!!!! I really appreciate it, I love getting feedback! 🥺❤

his-username: You're welcome! Especially your latest post, that was really good ;)

your-username: hehe 😈 glad you liked it!

Smiling widely, she kept her phone away and continued walking, not knowing that the person who had texted her was the same man she had written about. Sebastian smiled to himself when he read her text. After getting up in the morning, the first thing he had done was install Tumblr on his phone. Then he made an account for himself.

Figuring out the app was easy; he found out that there was an option to keep your liked posts and the accounts you followed hidden, and selected it immediately. No one needed to know what he did on the app. Then he went back to her account, pressed the follow button and started binge-reading her fanfictions again. Last night had he read only two, and that had left him wanting more.

Funny how much things can change in a night. He liked and reblogged all her posts without a second thought; he even read all her Bucky Barnes posts. She understood his character so well, put him on what he thought was an undeserved pedestal while writing about him. Some of the stories were AUs, which he found out stood for Alternate Universes. Mostly mobster or mafia stuff.

He had the day off, and he spent the entire time cooped up in his apartment, on his bed, reading. The more he read, the more he started fawning over her, over the version of him that she put out to the world. Dominating, suave and just perfect. He loved it. At the end of the day, he decided to text her again, hoping she wouldn't think he was weird or find out the truth.

his-username: do you wanna be friends, maybe? I'm new to the app, don't really have any friends here ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

That was a lie, he knew Mark Ruffalo had an active Tumblr account. But it's not like he could tell him.

your-username: Yes sure!!!! I was also thinking of making some friends on this app lol

his-username: You don't have any on here? But you've been here for years, haven't you?

your-username: haha yeah, but I don't really reach out to people much. Sometimes people leave their feedbacks on my posts, text me but that's that

his-username: Ohhh

his-username: well, let's start with names. Mine's Sebastian

your-username: Really?????? omg that's so cool lmaooooooo (didn't think you were a boy but 😳👀)

his-username: Not a boy, I'm a man 😤😂

your-username: 🤣 im y/n, btw

his-username: Y/N, that's a nice name

your-username: thank you!!!! So, what do you do?

his-username: nothing really that interesting, I'm in theatre

your-username: theatre is nice! I'm studying at [university] in New York lmao

his-username: Wait you're in New York? So am I!

your-username: ASDFHKSHKGF that's awesome!!! also I noticed that you've been going through my account the whole day 😏 notifications upon notifications keeping my phone busy

his-username: Oopsie?

your-username: 😂😂 I really don't mind, it was great! Despite the amount of likes on my posts, I only have a few loyal followers lmao gaining one more felt nice

your-username: You a big fan of Sebastian Stan? Cuz I noticed that you were only reading his and Bucky's fics 👀

Sebastian's face heated up.

his-username: kinda yeah 🤷🏻‍♂️😁

your-username: Cool cool cool, I'm a big fan of his too!!!! also got a crush on him but whatever 😳

Sebastian smirked at his phone. A crush on him, huh? That… was acceptable. He suddenly felt his cocky side coming out; the one she described in nearly all her fanfictions.

his-username: wouldn't blame ya, I mean, look at him. You have also written the most fics about him and Bucky

your-username: right????? damn that man has raised my standards. Anyway, I gtg now, I have to finish a paper before midnight. ttyl!

his-username: Bye! 👋🏻

He kept his phone away and took in a deep breath. This was the most fun he had had in years, and he was not letting her go so easy. He realized he was quickly falling for her; rather unhealthy, but he couldn't help it. Look at her. She looks like a goddamn angel, writes like one, makes him feel like one, do you really expect him not to fall for her? That's insane.

---

Months passed by like a breeze. Y/N and Sebastian had become very good friends, and he knew his way around words just enough to keep her from finding out his identity while not lying to her. Y/N also appreciated his friendship, because he was the one to whom she could rant about her most favorite man in the world— Sebastian Stan.

Sometimes, she thought about how weird of a coincidence it was that her new friend and the actor shared the same names, but then she used to brush it off; that was a common name, right? They talked for hours on end; Sebastian (her friend, not the actor) was extremely witty, smart and fun to talk to, she had to admit. Sebastian felt the same way.

His feelings had worsened. Y/N entirely owned his heart now. Somedays, he'd just go on Instagram, go to her account— her username memorized by him— and stare at her photos until he grew tired; he'd never get tired of looking at her beautiful face but his stiff body afterwards begged to differ. She was just so Elysian. He longed for the moment when he could meet her in real life.

His personality had also changed majorly, and people had caught on. Especially his Marvel co-stars, who knew him to be introverted, shy and, in Anthony Mackie's words, "boring". They were surprised at his sudden change in attitude; he knew his worth and Y/N had helped tremendously in finding it. Now, all those adjectives that she used in her fanfictions fit him perfectly.

Sebastian was never tempted to read fanfictions about himself from authors other than Y/N. No, he only loved her work. He was sure no one else could write as beautifully as she did, he was her #1 fan. Y/N even sent him funny Marvel memes she found on the app and he used to enjoy them heartily; God, the others have no idea what they're missing out on. Our fans are awesome.

Everything was going well.

Until one day.

Sebastian was getting bored at home, so he decided to go to the nearby library to clear his mind. He had read not one book in the past few months, hung up on Y/N's fanfictions. At this point, he was obsessed with her and he knew it. It was nothing dark, per se, it was— it was similar to how Y/N was attracted to Sebastian. How she was a fan of his work.

Just the same. He was a fan of her work in the same way. Just how she was attracted to him, he was attracted to her. Walking into the library that he visited often, he gave the librarian a smile and ventured further into the dark place. He checked his watch; the library closed at 12 am, it was currently 9:30 pm.

Not many people were around, heck, nobody was around. He thought himself to be all alone until he heard it. A sigh, coming from a few aisles away. He walked in that direction and peeked around the corner, freezing when he saw the other person. Y/N? Her books were strewn all across the table as she sat alone at the booth, rubbing her temples.

"You okay?"

She looked up and her breath caught in her throat. I'm dreaming. This is not real. Now I know for a fact that Sebastian Stan is not standing in front of me, asking me if I'm— "Hello?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face, pulling her out of her thoughts. "I, uh— I'm— h-hi," she stammered and he almost chuckled. "Hi." She gulped visibly and blinked at the table, not meeting his eyes.

"Can I have a seat?" He wants to sit with me?! "Y-Yes, sure, sir," she blurted out and he easily slid into the booth next to her. "Hey, please, call me Sebastian. What's your name?" He gave her a friendly smile, even though all he wanted to do was push her back into the booth and kiss her wildly. His shaft twitched just by thinking about it; Y/N was a thousand times more beautiful in person.

"I'm Y/N, it's very nice to meet you, I'm… I'm a fan," she admitted, playing with the ring she wore on her left thumb. I'm your fan too, sweetheart, the biggest one. "Y/N, nice name. You come here often? I haven't really seen you around." She shook her head. "Oh no no, I moved to this part of the city just a week ago, this is my first time here. The library is cozy," she shrugged, easing out of her tense position.

Sebastian nodded. "Yes, I know, this place is awesome. Got all my favorite books here," he chuckled and she smiled at him. "What's all this?" A groan left her lips. "Ugh, stupid university work. I have to write a book report but I don't even know what to write about." He smiled gently. "Well, I have a few favorite books, would you like some suggestions?"

"Oh, please! Tell me!"

He started listing some of his favorite works and Y/N noted the names down until he said the last name. At that, she froze. That's the name of my latest— She looked up but he had a smile on his face. "Oh, and the last one is by my favorite author." He took a pause. "Y/N Y/L/N." She froze completely, staring at the man with her jaw dropped.

Sebastian grinned. "We finally meet, Y/N, I've been waiting for months." Her mouth opened and closed several times as she recalled every interaction she had had with her online best friend— scratch that— her celebrity crush. All the times she had confessed her love for Sebastian Stan, all the dirty and inappropriate memes that she'd sent him…

Embarrassment flooded her entire body as she exhaled shakily. "It was you," she croaked out, "On Tumblr, the account— I'm so sorry—" Sebastian frowned in confusion when she blinked back sudden tears, a few still rolling down her cheeks as shame replaced embarrassment. "Y/N, please don't cry…" She looked up at him, his figure blurry due to her tears.

"You've read everything, haven't you? I just— I'm sorry, I don't want to make you uncomfortable—" He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Y/N couldn't hug back, though she appreciated the hug especially since it came from him. "You don't know how much you mean to me, doll," he mumbled into her shoulder, using the nickname she often used in the stories she wrote about him. He grew accustomed to it easily.

"Huh?"

He pulled away to wipe her tears. "It was an accident," he admitted, "But I stumbled onto your Instagram account from my explore page. Then I clicked on your account, saw that you wrote Marvel fanfictions and I just couldn't resist the urge to read what you had written. Blame it on 3 am me, to be honest. You're a great writer, and I was immediately drawn to your works. They're awesome.

"They've helped me so much in the past few months. You see this changed attitude that everyone's been talking about lately? All because of you, sweetheart. I'm sorry for keeping my identity secret, but after reading your works, I knew I had to get closer to you. I made the Tumblr account just for you, just so I could talk to you. I'm sorry for lying, but thank you."

Y/N dumbfoundedly stared at him for a few moments, her heart beat getting steady with each thump. Here was a man she admired, loved more than anyone else in the world, telling her that he harbored the same feelings for her. How crazy was that?! Not trusting her words, she simply pulled him into another hug. Sebastian wrapped his arms tight around her, pulling her flush against him.

"Can I kiss you, doll?"

She slowly pulled away from him and nodded, shyly biting her lip. Grinning at the endearing gesture, Sebastian cupped her face and leaned in, gently pressing his lips to hers. The kiss grew hungry in a matter of seconds, and Y/N responded just as eagerly. His hands slid down to her waist and tugged on it, pulling her on his lap. She straddled his thighs as they continued kissing.

"Fuck," he groaned when they finally pulled away from each other, out of breath and panting. "You see what you do to me, doll?" Sebastian spoke huskily as he took her hand, placing it right on top of the tent that was forming in his pants. "Oh," Y/N whimpered when she felt him, the sound going straight to his shaft. "How about I take you home and we recreate some of the scenes from your stories, hm?"

"O-Okay."

"Good girl."

---

A/N: What a meta experience 🤡 Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

[blueprint-han]

[Image ID: A black picture with the title “HOW TO SUPPORT FANFICTION AUTHORS” written in bold caps lock, colored with a winter forest picture. End ID.]

Well, this post has been made countless times, but I’m making one too because I’ve seen a lot of people say they’re new to tumblr and don’t know the whole “reblogging is better than liking” rule and other stuff. So without any further ado, here are ways YOU can support the fanfiction authors. Now keep in mind this applies to almost every author out there, not just the stayblr fandom, so if you’re a silent reader (or even if you aren’t), I advise you go through this post. Warning, this is a fairly long post going into detail, so yeah. I still expect you, the readers to read this, and if you’re a writer, feel free to lmk if i’ve written smth wrong or if you want me to add something! ^^

In this post I’ll go into thorough analysis of the pros and cons of each of the methods listed here and how YOU as a reader can show the authors whose fics you read more love and motivate them to produce content.

WARNING; LONG POST! GOES INTO A DECENT AMOUNT OF DETAIL. NOT EDITED, EXCUSE ANY TYPOS.

#1 : LIKING !

I think this is basic common knowledge, and a lot of people tend to do this. When you like the post, the author sees it, you see it, and if the author has their liked posts accessible (which majority of the time they don’t), and if someone deliberately goes to check it, then they see it. See why so many authors say just liking does nothing? Only liking says “Hey, I’m gonna tell you your story is not that good by simply liking it and not sharing it with other people. :D”

♯ PROS:

You’re telling the author that you've read their fic, and either you’ve enjoyed it to a certain extent, or you’re just saving it to read for later.

Likes are seen by you, the author and anyone who has access to your likes (which, most people don’t).

♯ CONS:

If you ONLY like, you’re not really helping the author’s work reach a wide audience because this site isn’t Instagram. Reblogging is the only way people can SEE our works. I’ll cover more on that in the next section.

In a nutshell, liking is good! But you should most likely use it in a combination with the other stuff I’ve listed below, because just the like itself doesn’t really do much in giving the author any feedback or interaction on their fics.

To clear shit up; I’m not talking about those people who don’t read the story or appreciate it in the first place. I’m talking about those who appreciate the fic, like it, but don’t leave any sort of feedback to show that.

#2 : REBLOGGING !

This is SO, SO important. I cannot stress on this enough. Let me explain WHY so many writers stress on reblogging content: 

Tumblr’s tag system is inherently fucked up, and has grown more so over the year. I’m not kidding, at first, the fic either used to show up in the tags or it didn’t, but now, sometimes your fic can be REMOVED from the tags because of,,, idk tumblr tag shit. Anyways, as you can see, it’s very demotivating for authors at that point, because the major way for people to find their content and expand their blogs has been blocked.  

Due to this reason, tumblr authors need to RELY on you, their followers to help spread their works to a wider audience. Now again, before you get me wrong, I’m not saying you ae forced to rb our works regardless of whether you like them or not. BUT, that being said, if you DO infact like the story, there’s no harm in reblogging, right? By doing this you’re indirectly telling the author — “hey! :D I liked your fic! Which is why I am gonna share it to my followers so they can read it too :D” Trust me, you’re doing nothing but helping the people who produce content for you to read. Seems like a worthy cause to hit the reblog button, right? It’s only a one, or maximum two step procedure.

Leave tags in your reblogs! Trust me, as an author myself and as much as I know from all my author friends, we oft check the tags of your reblogs to see if you found any part amazing or even if you have anything to say about the writing we put so much hard work into. Even a key smash or a “This was so [insert adjective] 🥺” is enough to leave a smile on your authors face. 

♯ PROS :

You’re !! Sharing !! Your authors !! Works !! This leads to them getting more recognition, so for the content they’re so graciously providing for free, you’re promoting their blog and helping them expand it.

If the tags are being a shit, which majority of the time they are, then you’re literally making an author’s day by reblogging! You’re showing them that you, a follower and appreciator of their works are willingly sharing their content because it deserves to be seen by more people. Again before any dumb people decide to attack me, i am talking about people who like the fic but don't bother reblogging and are silent/ghost readers. I am not forcing anyone to read anybody’s work.

YOU’RE MAKING YOUR AUTHOR SO HAPPY WHAT MORE REASONS COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT !! 🥺

♯ CONS :

Literally none, because as far as I remember no author is against reblogging of their works. It’s quite literally the way this platform functions. Reblogging is IMPORTANT.

#3 : COMMENTING/SENDING FEEDBACK !

This kind of overlaps with the previous section, but THIS IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT STEP !! When you leave feedback, you are directly giving the author something so much more valuable to them than high follower/note counts or money. Your feedback is literally our serotonin. I kid you not the number of times I’ve received a positive comment and smiled and it has made my day. There’s a reason youtubers (though not the best example, bear with me here because it was the only one I could think of) ask people to subscribe, like and COMMENT. The subscription is like a follow, the like is ofc like a heart, and the comment is equivalent to an rb with comments in the tags. 

You might argue and tell me that a comment is basically like an ask so the reblogging step isn’t necessary, but I’m sure 99% of you use YouTube and you know that more comments leads to people’s videos boosted in the stream/trending charts. This is what reblogging does. Reblogging shares the piece with other people like minded, which leads to a boost in reads. You are literally helping your author grow.

It’s quite literally the same thing as youtubers. Youtubers NEED validation to keep their content creation going, so do writers, so do other ccs on this site. This post is however, focused on WRITERS, so keep that in mind.

♯ PROS :

By doing this, you’re giving author valuable feedback! It’s similar to what you do in rbing with tags. Interactivity with their fics boosts their note counts and helps expand their audience, so srsly, now think of it: your one comment is playing such a massive role to help ccs create more content.

Imagine how much of a difference the note counts will be in when every person who simply likes after reading the fic, reblogs, leaves a comment and sends an ask. the note counts would be high on each and every fic, which is validation in itself, but your comments would inspire the writer so much more! Please, don’t skip the commenting part. Even a simple one like: “this is so cute!” is wonderful. 

♯ CONS :

Remember, if you’re gonna give constructive criticism (which I’m sure you all are smart enough to know if different from hate), make sure the author is okay with it. Authors need to be in a specific mindset and must be ready to accept criticism, so if you’re gonna give constructive criticism to them when they’re at a low point, it may demotivate them.

Just commenting, instead of reblogging and commenting in the tags/ reblogging and then leaving an ask in their inbox, while it gives validation in plenty, will not lead to the author’s work being spread. Therefore I suggest either reblogging and commenting in the tags or reblog and then leave an ask, or comment under the fic!

!! reminder; I am not saying that if you don’t rb and just leave feedback, your feedback has no value. We authors truly appreciate every bit of feedback, but this post is aimed to help you learn how to interact with and support authors, and make them feel more motivated, because the current scenario of liking and scrolling is taking a toll on their creative abilities. Take it from a person who’s been writing for a year.

#4 : COMMSIONING VIA THEIR KO-FI/OTHER APPS !

Before any of you attack me, let me tell you that this is not a step that is 100% necessary to do. ONLY donate if you can and if you genuinely want to, and if anyone is forcing you to pay for something against your will, you need to get yourself out of there.

Regardless, if an author has a kofi and you’re able to and you want to donate, you definitely should! It’s also a valid form of support.

#5 : ADDING THEM ON REC LISTS/ RECOMMENDING THEM TO REC BLOGS

This is such an underrated option, to be honest. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve seen my fic was recommended onto some rec list and it’s made me smile so hard. If you like some fics, create a rec list! They’re oft very popular amongst the fans too. Making rec posts is such a great way to share your favorite stories with others. 

Rec blogs! I’ve seen a couple going around, and needless to say they are a great way to get someone else to read your favorite author’s work whilst also giving them your own feedback. These blogs oft accept recs via a form or ask box, and they leave your feedback along with their own, or else they’ll oft tag the author in the feedback post, so look! You’re basically helping your author share their fic to many more people, because you’ve given them feedback and a reblog.

♯ PROS :

Validation! Feedback! Reblogs! More exposure! Helping a blog grow! Spreading love! basically a run down of the stuff I’ve said before!

♯ CONS :

Literally no con of this. Unless, a one in a million case, this author says they don’t like receiving feedback/being tagged, and I’m sure NO person has said this before, at least none that I’ve heard of.

#6 : FINAL COMMENTS; MISC !

When an author points out about how the interactivity is drastically reducing, don’t just give them blind apologies. Yes, you feel sorry for not interacting as much, we understand, but rather show that you’ll become a better content consumer through your actions. We need to see that we’re not just throwing words into a void and that people are actually trying to be better content consumers. 

Understand the fact that authors don’t get paid for this, and 99% of the time, these authors don’t take commissions either. They’re giving you novel worthy writings for free. Take Percy Jackson: You think the author would have felt motivated to write the subsequent parts, let alone two whole series based off of it if literally no one showed that they were interested? Rick Riordan has sales, he is being paid, there are millions of people and big agencies who provide him feedback. Now take that huge amount and simmer it down to an audience of maybe 10000 people This is what fanfic authors want. They don’t want your money, nor are they telling you to risk your lives for them. All they want is, a reblog, some tags, some feedback, some INTERACTIVITY.  A sign that they aren’t throwing fics into the void and that people actually like them, some motivation to continue. Seems fairly easy to throw an rb with some tags, right?

Don’t bother to tell me that we do this for ourselves and we shouldn’t ask for likes and reblogs and feedback, because 1) you are consuming the content that we “write for ourselves” and 2) writers post their content here for interactivity and feedback. We could just not post and write and save our fics in our dungeon drafts for years. But we choose to post to entertain the readers, the consumers. And we aren’t even asking that much in return.

Don’t give me the whole “I’m scared that authors feel that comments are annoying” excuse either because seriously this has been DEBUNKED SO MANY TIMES. Istg, in the nicest way possible, if you still think writers are annoyed by interaction and feedback, after so many posts, long rants have been posted as to how we’re not, then you must truly be living under a rock. There, I said it. Please stop thinking this way, I’ll say it again, AUTHORS ARE NOT ANNOYED OF FEEDBACK, COMMENTS, TAGS, REBLOGS. WE LOVE IT. Saying this is like saying that the audience in a theatre play shouldn’t clap when the play ends because the actors would find it noisy. 🤡

I’ve seen some people saying they have anxiety issues and such, so pls note that I’m not invalidating your condition. If you’re trying to be more interactive, I really appreciate it! If you can’t, that’s fine too. You’re trying.

But for the people who have no reason other than feeling lazy to rb and comment, your lack of interactiveness is not excused. Please. Tumblr is a reblogging site. If you’re gonna consume content like authors are some sort of machines, I encourage you to go get some more perspective.

This site is not Instagram or the satan bird app. Your likes are appreciated but frankly speaking, they do nothing to the author except tell them “Hey i read ur fic but i'm not gonna support u :D” and honestly, that is detrimental to their creative capabilities and mental health. 

DON’T FOLLOW AN ACC JUST TO MINDLESS RB THEIR SIGNAL BOOST POSTS AND THEIR REBLOGS OF GIFS AND NOT INTERACT WITH THEIR WRITING AT ALL ! Trust me, authors prefer a lower amount of interactive followers than a high count that doesn’t even give them any feedback. Again your follows are appreciated, but when you’re following, you know the type of content the author creates, so the author expects that the more followers, the more interactivity. These days, this is just becoming the opposite. So don’t do it! If you’re gonna follow to read, interact with their works. I promise, this will make both you and the author happy. A win-win situation.

In conclusion: SUPPORT YOUR FUCKING AUTHORS! THEY ARE NOT MACHINES THAT HAVE NO FEELINGS TO PRODUCE CONTENT FOR YOU! FICS TAKE DAYS AND DAYS OF PLANNING, PLOTTING, OUTLINING, WRITING, EDITING, MAKING TEASERS. SO JUST SHOW THEM YOU APPRECIATE THEM WITH AN RB. IT’S THE L E A S T YOU CAN DO.

I will be liking this post here written by the lovely @chaninfused​ and @scriptura-delirus​ . Please take time to read it because if you weren’t convinced by my arguments, you will see how much frustration we as writers face on a daily basis. Please, just show support. Here is the post by @stayndays​ about how to get more people to read your work, because it also has a note on reblogging. Please educate yourself, and put an end to this mindless consuming culutre and bring up some interactivity.

If you’ve read this far, I want you to go to two of your favorite authors and leave some feedback in their inbox, and tag me in it (either tag me yourself or ask the author to do so, they won’t mind). Show your writers that our words are taking effect and you are becoming better consumers. I mean it. I’m serious. I want every single one who reads this post to do this. besides valid reasons, if you’re lazy to do this, you’re a part of the problem. PLEASE get more perspective.

Also, feel free to add to this post! I’d love to read your thoughts too, remember to be kind though. And, if I think your rb is somehow contradicting my points and is bringing down the reason I made this post, I will politely ask you to delete your comment, because this post is about being truthful about the harsh reality of tumblr consumers and how we can change it. I’m sure none of you will let it get to that point, though. <3 love you guys. 💓

And, just a reminder, don’t just blindly like this too. Do what I said before, and while I am not forcing you, I’d appreciate your reblog, because seriously, it took me 3 whole days to write this, plus, I’m sure this will help more of your followers understand the fault in consumer culture. haha, that’s it! This post was way too long uff.

also, this is ur cue to not be stupid in my inbox. You have something to say? Think I worded smth wrongly? I’m sure it wasn’t my intention to do so, point it out with manners. 

[sunookkii]

11:22 P.M

I think I’m falling for you

Pairing : Sunghoon x Reader

Genre : friends 2 lovers?

Warnings : sunghoon

Master list here

It’s past midnight and you still couldn’t sleep. Making you shift from side to side, it was no use you just couldn’t help but stay awake. Time started ticking and you couldn’t find yourself to fall asleep quick enough making you easily get frustrated. You try to scroll on your phone through Instagram to make your eyes strained so they can be sleepy, but that didn’t work. You tried making fake scenarios in your head to dream quicker but that also didn’t work. A few seconds after you hear a small buzzing sound through your cellphone which made you shift from your side to pick it up from your bed-side table. You see a name pop up ‘Sunghoon’, your friend Sunghoon had texted you in the middle of the night, what did he want?

Heyy ignore this,, cuz tumblr does this thing where it deletes sentences when you use the ‘keep reading’ so if this sentence doesn’t delete just ignore it lol tyy

🐧 : “are you awake”

🐧 : “are you awake”

“yeah lol how did you know”

🐧 : “lmao i didn’t i was just checking” “anyway do you wanna go ice skating w me”

“ure crazy it’s literally almost 2 in the morning”

🐧 : “ure boring, just come it’ll be fun”

“I don’t know how to skate”

🐧 : “I’ll teach you”

“Okay fine, I’ll be there in five minutes”

🐧 : “k”

You couldn’t fall asleep anyway so might as well you thought to yourself. You quickly put on some clothes, still trying to look presentable you wore black shorts with a simple white tee followed by a style grey zip up something like this. It wasn’t much but you still managed to look good. You brought your bag and keys then off you went. The skating rink wasn’t far from your home luckily for you since you were lazy to walk. Out of all the times he could’ve invited you to the ice rink why did he ask you to come in the. Middle of the night you wondered. A few minutes past by and you already arrived at the skating rink, once you enter the doors you pick up a pair of skates which were your size before you entered the rink. Right when you entered you were greeted by a graceful Sunghoon skating ever so beautifully in his grey hoodie. You barely got to see him skate so when he does you were definitely wowed. He waved at you before skating towards you.

🐧 : “Hey took you long enough”

“well at least I’m here” you said giving him a glare.

You try your best to put on the skates and to tie them tightly so they don’t fall off. You weren’t really educated on how to put them on so you had a bit of difficulty. Sunghoon quickly saw how you were struggling and got down on his knees to help you tie your skates without saying anything.

🐧 “There, is it okay?”

“yeah,, thanks,..”

He hurriedly skated off making you follow behind. He went quite far from you forgetting that you didn’t know how to skate so you can easily fall. You try your best to skate towards him before suddenly falling. Ouch. Rubbing you bum because that’s the place where you fell. “I told you i dont know how to skate” you said a bit frustrated before getting up, skating was something Sunghoon made look so easy but for some weird reason you just couldn’t do it. “pfft here lemme teach you” he said reaching out his hand to help you up before you fall a second time but instead of falling on your butt you end up falling on top of him.

Your eyes met with his which soon became awkward since he turned pink right before your eyes. “Sorry” you said shyly before trying to get back up. His face was still red, was it because he was cold? You try your best to skate a bit closer to him making sure not to fall for the THIRD time. You bring up your palms to place them on top of his cheek trying to warm them up, “ahh you’re so red” is all you said, but for some reason when you placed your hands on his cheeks it was super warm already when you were expecting them to be cold. Was he perhaps blushing? You thought in the back of your head. Sunghoon took your hands off his cheeks replacing the spot you were holding with his hand. The rest of the night you two skated with your hands intertwining. It was almost 3 am and it was time to take you home, he walked you home safely ending off the night with a savouring sweet soft goodnight kiss.

Click this for a kiss from sunghoon

[renatapatata]

UNUS ANNUS GOODBYE LIVESTREAM HIGHLIGHTS;

(From someone that watched it completely despite completely ruining their sleep schedule as a result,, worth it tho ✌)

They rented and set up an Unus Annus themed room and had a laptop between them to directly check out videos on, as well as a timer on a screen to remind us of their impending doom.

Amy (bless her soul) was the true moderator who from a?? Tech spot above them would speak into her mike like God and direct them to looking at out of context screenshots, memes and fanart from over the past year.

They scrolled through the channel from beginning to end and had the time to watch a dozen of them - particularly like a video from each 'era' ish of the channel, like the first ones or Camp Unus Annus as well as fan/their favorites.

All the editors got shout outs + were probably tasked to make a compilation video of the edits they were individually tasked to do and ended up making just absolute masterpiece tributes 😳

They watched videos such as Mark and Ethan Attempt an Escape Room, DIY Chiropractor, DIY Geriatric Simulator and so on...

Mark had never seen one of their last videos, Ethan Kidnaps Mark, which was the pre 'The Truth of Unus Annus' video and was basically Ethan's version of the Mark's Outside Escape Room from Camp Unus Annus.

DJ Burt Blackarach sent them a cake + bottle of champagne and ☠ y'know Ethan doesn't play with baked goods due to his peanut allergy and Mark cant drink alcohol but they appreciated the sentiment (we all did c'mon it was super sweet)

Mark got the bug watch for Amy that he'd accidentally donated in that early on video with Sean about Donating Toys to Charity!!

They almost killed a video that they found mediocre (but that is actually one of my faves ngl) aka How Much Caffeine Can Kill a Man but at the Last Second they realized that they probs shouldn't get rid of a video beforehand fnfnfn with the reasoning being that it could be someone's birthday video and that it deserved to live till the bitter end (that being of like. 5 extra hours)

There was lots of general shenanigans and ramblings/bits from time to time, with Mark and Ethan being pretty content and ready to say goodbye to the channel.

Oh yeah and then like at 2 hours and a half before it ended Ethan got a live tattoo done of the counted down to 0 timer as Mark failed to be normal around the tattoo artist and 'hAd' to mention the Pee Sauna and Pee Soda to her-

On the subject of tattoos they went through some amazing tattoos that fans had gotten and sent pictures of

Hashtags on Twitter were being flooded, with things such as #Unusannusisoverparty, #WeWereHere, #MarksNewHat - which, yeah Amy got him a top hat and I don't think I've ever seen such pure joy on his face than in that moment.

+++ Amy was wearing an epic suit which was their main aesthetic of half white half black...

Mark reiterates how proud he is of Ethan, of Amy... of the whole team!!! I got emo it was starting to get too real

AND THEN MARK HAD SURPRISE CUSTOM UNUS ANNUS POCKET WATCHES FOR AMY AND ETHAN,,,

So then ya they started getting a bit more speechless/emotional near this bitter end, and at an hour ish left I want to say was when they hit 1 million likes on the stream - and they kept pushing to hit that milestone since if they reached it they would reveal what was inside the coffin...

Plottwist!!! The coffin was empty but they decided to test it out and take turns in it (the material inside was apparently very soft).

So then Ethan gets in the coffin which commences a string of eulogies between em which got me way too emotional and was like a part of the stream that was just Being Brutally Honest With Each Other 2.0.

Mark basically talking about how proud he is of Ethan + how he's excited for his future endeavors and knows that despite the goofy exterior he shows he has such potential and then Eef gets out of the coffin crying which then proceeded to make chat (and me) cry fukcC

Mark gets in the coffin and Ethan talks about how hardworking and no bullshit a person Mark is and how he's learned so much from him and how Mark has never given up on him and his constant presence and support has changed him-

Mark gets out of the coffin crying, they hug it out and ya everyone's crying emotions r healthy gang and damn did we go through a rollercoaster of them...

So I'm weepy and dont necessarily remember exactly what was next, but Amy also got in the coffin which prompted Mark to just go off and give her the most well deserved praise ever since she was the one behind so many of their most creative/cursed ideas and was ghaaa Mark obviously could have talked about her for forever it was super sweet and shes just so deserving of all of that 🥺🥺🥺 gosh we really have her to thank for all the hard work that was put in and resulted in such an amazing payoff...

The last video they watched was The Barrel Song by the way with Schmoyoho, which was weirdly??? Really fitting since it was about saying goodbye and destroying something that you'd become fond of.

Evan then ominously says in response to being offered to get in the cry coffin with like. 5 minutes left on the timer that he totally went in it earlier which was him just politely saying No💖

Oops also forgot to mention but in the last hour they slowly deleted/privated the Instagram, Tumblr, Reddit and Twitter accounts.

And for the ultimate end which wow really came too fast once the numbers dwindled down to 10 minutes left Amy sat in frame in between Mark and Ethan as they clicked the delete channel button and the stream went dead.