#if I made my Twitter public would you promise to think I’m funny

[sickgraymeat]

it’s more likely than you think

[sluttywonwoo]

study buddies || k.mg x reader

Pairing: frat!mingyu x fem reader 

Summary: studying for midterms with the guy you’re hooking up with goes exactly how you’d expect

Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark ) for my gf’s birthday :)) happy birthday @hotgirlmingyu

Masterlist

You woke up to banging on your apartment door. Groaning, you rolled over to check your phone and saw that it was six am. You pushed yourself up and out of bed and padded into the kitchen to answer the door. You were surprised the relentless knocking hadn’t woken up your roommate, but she was a pretty heavy sleeper.

You yanked the door open to see Mingyu with a handful of textbooks. You squinted at him in confusion, wondering if you were seeing things. Mingyu had never been to your place before, you didn’t even know he knew where you lived.

His appearance startled you a bit. His hair was messy where it was usually slicked back or styled and he was wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him in anything other than khakis and a douchey printed shirt.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes.

He frowned. “You said we should study for midterms together.”

You thought back to the last time you’d seen Mingyu. You couldn’t remember saying anything like that.

“Was I drunk?”

“Probably.”

“So why are you here?”

“To study. You agreed that we could help each other out.”

“Mingyu, I don’t even remember agreeing to that.”

“Well I’m already here,” he said and pushed past you into your apartment.

“Seriously? It’s Saturday.”

“Yeah, and midterms are next week.”

“Couldn’t you have waited until the sun was up?” you grumbled, mostly to yourself and shut the door behind him.

“We’ve got a lot of material to cover.”

You cursed under your breath as you watched him set up at your kitchen table, knowing you should probably study even though you desperately wanted to go back to bed.

You and Mingyu had met at a party at his fraternity and woke up the next morning tangled in the sheets of his bed. To say it was awkward would have been an understatement. You didn’t think you’d ever see him again, but to your horror, you saw him in your stats lecture on Monday and your mythology class on Thursday. This was a pretty big university. Why did the same asshole have to be in two of your classes?

As much as it annoyed you, you couldn’t stop thinking about Mingyu, and apparently, he was having a similar dilemma because every time you went out he seemed to be there, and every time you hooked up.

That was the extent of your relationship, though. You didn’t even speak to each other in class or at parties. The only time you talked was behind closed doors when one or both of you was naked. Even then you kept your guard up because you refused to let yourself fall for a frat boy with commitment issues who never wanted to be seen with the same girl twice. A boy who wouldn’t even talk to you in public.

But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart fluttered when he said your name as he was about to cum, or the way his lips felt against yours. He could be a total dick, but you’d also seen a softer side of him that he didn’t show many people. You forced yourself to forget about that side. It was easier that way.

“Okay, what are we starting with?” you asked with a sigh.

“We have the stats exam first, we should work on that.”

You made a face. Statistics was the harder out of the two for you. In fact, it was the hardest class you were taking this semester.

“I can’t believe I’m doing math before seven am.”

“You won’t be complaining when you ace the midterm,” he quipped, already working on a practice worksheet.

You watched him solve problems like he was checking items off a list. You knew he was good at statistics, but you didn’t know he was that good. Figures, a guy like him was good at pretty much everything. Everything except mythology apparently, because once you’d switched to that he was flustered and frustrated. You would quiz him on myths only for him to get every single question wrong.

“Mingyu, did you even read any of these?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Yes, y/n, I read every one. How do you think I passed all the reading quizzes?”

“Cheating?” it slipped out before you could stop it and Mingyu gave you a hard glare. You held up your hands defensively. “Just a joke.”

“I don’t think it was.” He licked his lips. “But for what it’s worth I read them all. I just can’t keep them straight.”

You sighed. You felt bad, but you were getting frustrated too. And not just because Mingyu wasn’t grasping the myths. This was the longest you’d ever spent together (at least while you were awake) and you hadn’t even had sex. He just smelled so nice and looked so cute when he was concentrating that you couldn’t help feeling a little impatient. You had been at it for hours, you thought you would’ve done it at least once by now. But Mingyu was more serious about studying than you thought. It was kind of admirable and kind of annoying.

“Okay well reread through the Egyptian myths and I’ll quiz you again.”

“Alright.”

He pulled out his reading packet and flipped to the section you took out your phone and scrolled through social media mindlessly as he read, but it quickly got boring. You wished Mingyu would take a break so he could rail you. He was still reading intently, but you figured a little distraction couldn’t hurt.

You started by taking your hair down from your bun and shaking it out so that it fell around your shoulders. You knew your shampoo drove Mingyu crazy and hoped it would have an effect on him today. He shifted his seat, but didn’t look up from the packet. Next, you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder. You’d never done something so domestic like this with Mingyu, but it seemed to work because he cleared his throat and adjusted his sweatpants.

“You know you could be working on math.”

You shrugged. “We already did stats for hours today. I think I’ll jump off a bridge if I look at one more differential equation.”

He fell silent and tried focusing back onto the reading, but you moved your hand to his thigh and kept it there as you continued to through twitter, not even reading what was on your screen.

“Stop that,” Mingyu muttered, making you jump a little.

“Why?”

“Fuck, because you’re distracting me. You look too hot right now.”

“I’m wearing pajamas.”

“I really don’t care. You still look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now.”

“Well what’s stopping you?” you asked lowly and nipped at his ear.

“Need to finish this,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“I can’t convince you to take a break?” You moved the hand on his leg up so that you were cupping him over his pants.

He shook his head. “After.”

You leaned over and kissed his neck, then his jaw, and felt him get hard under your hand. “If I have to stop what I’m doing you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”

“That sounds like more of a motivator than a deterrent,” you admitted. “I’ll suck you off,” you offered and hooked your thumb in the waistband of his sweats, trying to bribe him.

“If you let me finish I’ll eat you out,” he countered.

You straightened up. It sounded like a pretty good deal.

“Fine.”

A few minutes passed in silence and you were waiting patiently, typing up a rough draft of an essay you had due for another class when Mingyu groaned.

“What?” you asked, wondering if he needed help.

“Can you please stop that?”

“Stop what? I’m literally doing nothing.” You were genuinely confused now.

“Just- I don’t know you’re making it so hard to concentrate.”

“Am I making it hard?” You smirked.

“Very funny.”

“Would it help if I put a paper bag over my head?”

“Probably.”

“Come on, keep reading about Osiris.”

“I don’t want to read about Osiris anymore, he’s a dick.”

“The faster you finish the faster you can get off.”

“I thought you didn’t want to wait,” Mingyu pointed out, trying to deflect.

“I think I recall something about you going down on me if I let you finish reading.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, but didn’t turn back to the book. Instead, he continued to gaze at you with those big brown eyes. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“What?” You felt your cheeks get warm.

“I just really want to kiss you right now.”

You smiled and raised your chin, challenging him. “Then do it.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You closed your eyes and kissed him back, savoring the moment.

When you pulled away, Mingyu’s eyes were dark with want and you could see that he was now fully hard in his sweatpants.

“How about I eat you out now anyway?” He suggested, leaning forward to kiss your neck.

You moaned and brought your hands to his hair.

“You trying to bribe me?”

“Is it working?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Mingyu stood and picked you up from your chair. You wrapped your legs around his waist again. He pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth and smirked.

“Promise you’ll finish studying after?” you asked.

He considered it. “Does what we’re about to do count as studying mythology? Because it’s going to be legendary.”

You scrunched up your face in distaste. “No, I take it back. Put me down.”

Mingyu grinned. “Hey! You know no ones gives it to you as good as I do.”

“That confident are you?”

His grin turned into a smirk. “Is that a challenge?”

lmk what you think i always appreciated feedback!!

forever tags: @haven-cove

shoot me an ask to be added/removed from my taglist

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[sallysetoncore]

open letter to @spn-newsletter​,

i want you to fucking ban me. this is me trying to get banned. you don’t like creators who spread hate? i fucking hate wincest. i fucking hate hate hate hate hate hate hate wincest. not enough? i hate rpf. i think it’s fucking weird.

“stevie, you’re being rude, why don’t you just say no?” well, funny, you should say that, because i already did:

i said no. i was cordial. i was told i was put on your DNI list.

twice, i was promised this. (i dmed the twitter account before i saw that i had a response on my ao3 comment, which is the above screenshot).

and that was on 'dear brother’, a fic that i am pouring my fucking heart into by updating almost DAILY about two brothers. and you made sure it was going directly to people who have clicked a box that says “yes, i want wincest fic directly in my inbox”.

but i thought it was all over.

then, for my 20th birthday, june 4th, i write a little  fic of dean sitting in a motel room. that’s the whole fic. literally nothing happens for 1,400 words. he just sits there. and it’s deeply personal and i wrote down that it was personal:

besides, i thought i was on a DNI list. and then:

and i didn’t see this comment until 1am my time on the night of the 6th, because sometimes i do have a life, particularly on the weekend of my  birthday, and i got a little angrier.

and ya know. i was scrolling today through comments and realized i never got a response on this like i did on the other.

but, that’s fine, right? because i’m on the DNI list?

well, here i am on the june 5th newsletter. #5,021

so this is my final call.

put me on a goddamn fucking DNI list and actually do not fucking interact with me. is this enough? have i broken your hate policy enough? am i a villain yet?

and i will not dignify “but you posted it on a public forum!!!” with a response because this is about human courtesy and doing what you said you would do. every time i open my email and see that instead of a comment about how much they loved my characterization or whatever, i have another message from y’all, my heart breaks a little.

i don’t care if you’re a “staple of this fandom” or whatever. i don’t want you on my fics.

do not interact with me.

period.

- Stevie / alan-j-corbett / gracelessbeliever on ao3

p.s. it says ‘account deleted’ so i can’t even block you if i wanted to (i want to)

[gxccistyless]

11- “Excuse you, I can be as dramatic and ridiculous as I want, outside of work hours. You can’t stop me.”

It started out with you being a part of his touring team, you were his PA’s assistant and would organise all the things he needed in his dressing room, ensuring it was ready for him. Then his PA got pregnant and he needed someone to fill temporarily, that’s where you came in... “It’s only for three months tops till he can agree to someone else, the dude has interviewed six people in three days and didn’t like any of them!” So you said yes. But three months turned into six and six turned into a year and soon enough he was no longer hiring anyone else, his PA wasn’t coming back and he had, of his own accord, decided that he wouldn’t be looking for someone new to fill the position as you would be staying in it. You weren’t complaining though. You had grown close to Harry over the last 12 months, tending to his every need between the house of 9am and 5pm, and then enjoying his company after hours too.

He had grown to feel some type of way about you somewhere there in the first few months. He enjoyed spending time with you, he knew that much, but he was also well aware of the fact that he was a public figure and you were just a normal Californian girl, he didn’t want to throw your life into a loop. What he didn’t know was that you had grown to feel some type of way about him too. Neither of you knew how the other felt, he had convinced himself that you were into the coffee guy who would flirt with you each morning, and you had convinced yourself that he was into his new costar. So the two of you continued to suppress your feelings.

Gemma came to the set to visit, she was in town and staying with Harry which meant you didn’t have to go and hang out with him at night, even though it was a break and allowed you to catch up on some personal business, you did miss him. 

She knew how Harry felt about you, in fact between the hours of 5pm and 9am he wouldn’t shut up about you, her only time of quiet would be when he eventually fell asleep. “Gemma, she’s so beautiful... Gemma, one day I will ask her out.... Gemma do you think she’s dating the coffee guy?.... Gemma do you think she likes me back?”  Gemma had enough. 

She asked you if you wanted to grab lunch whilst Harry was busy doing hair and makeup one day. It wasn’t out of the ordinary as the three of you would usually eat lunch together. She asks about your love life, you laugh in reply. “what love life, I spend my days looking after Harry and I spend my nights either sleeping or hanging out with Harry or doing both of those things at the same time. I don’t have time for a love life”  Gemma nods and you continue to ramble until she cuts you off “maybe you and Harry should date” you laugh at first not really knowing how to reply... was she being serious? Or was it just sarcasm? “I don’t know why you think that’s so funny, you spend enough time together and you already bicker like a married couple” Gemma roles her eyes. 

Gemma what are you talking about... I’m pretty sure Harry is dating Cecily or whatever her name is...” “what makes you think that!?” “dunno that’s just what the tabloids and the twitter are saying” again she rolls her eyes. “Y/n, has he spent any night in the last twelve months, apart from nights where I’m with him, away from you?” Come to think of it he hadn’t. After work he would either be at yours or you would be at his. You shake your head to reply no. “In the last twelve months has he had ANY dates?” Again you knew that he hadn’t, you were in charge of his calendar and truthfully the boy couldn’t make a reservation even if he wanted to. Gemma decided that the hints she was giving you were falling on deaf ears, much like the hints she had been dropping for Harry. 

Somehow however, she had convinced both you and Harry to go on a blind date the following week, neither of you knowing the other was going to be there. Harry was planning on bailing on the date, not wanting to leave you on your own but somehow you had found the courage to text him on Saturday morning.

Y/n: hey sorry this is short notice, but I’m not feeling well and I don’t want to give you anything ahead of your performance next weekend, let’s make tacos another night!!

Harry: I can come and look after you! I’ll bring the tacos to you, you won’t have to do anything except for rest. Screw the tacos, I’ll make you some chicken soup....

This made you nervous, how would you turn him and his chicken soup down without a) telling him you were going on a date and b) hurting his feelings.  Y/n: Harry, I promise I’m okay... nothing a bit of sleep won’t fix... I’ll see you tomorrow if I’m feeling better! 

Harry: okay :( but message me if you change your mind or you start to feel worse. I’m only a text away :)

Y/n: thank you Harry ❤️

Harry had gotten ready, driven to the ice skating rink where Gemma had told him to meet his date and parked in the car park. He had half a mind to turn around bail on this date and go and check on you. But he knew how much you hated too much attention and he didn’t want to push passed boundaries that you had set. So he got out of his car and made his way inside. You were already there, and as he walked up the stairs your eyes locked with each other. At first he was upset that you had lied and you were embarrassed to have been caught, but the two of you engage in conversation anyway.

“Feeling better I see?” He lifts his eyebrow at you. “I’m sorry I lied to you, I just didn’t know how to tell you that Gemma set me up on this blind date and I don’t even know if this is a thing and I —” halfway through your rambling you stop to see him smiling. “What are you smiling at, styles?”  He’s realised his sisters plan as soon as the words fell out of your mouth. You’re yet to pick up on it. Just as his shout to reply to you, both of your phones buzz. It’s Gemma messaging in the group chat the three of you had.

Gemma: have the two of you suckers figured it out yet? You both like each other, you’re both single, she’s not dating the coffee guy and he doesn’t have the hots for Cecily... Enjoy your date! 😝😝

You’re cheeks are glowing red at this point. She’s exposed you, but at the same time she’s exposed him too. “Cmon then”  he says as he reaches for your hand and the two of you walk into the rink. He pays, because well he’s a real gentlemen and even though he loves your feminist side, he refuses to let you spend a cent, after all... it is a date. 

After five minutes on the ice rink, and Harry falling for the sixth time, you start to panic, even though he tried to play it off, skating was not his forte “Maybe we should just go home, you’re not very good at this and I don’t need to be ringing your manager tomorrow to tell them you’ve broken your leg and can’t perform next week” he giggles at your worrying expression and the way your whole forehead was creased during that entire sentence. “Calm down love, I think you’re being a but dramatic.. I’m not going to break my leg” you pout your lips and fold your arms “Excuse you, I can be as dramatic and ridiculous as I want, outside of work hours. You can’t stop me.” He giggles at you.. “You’re  right, I’m not paying you to be here am I..... did my sister pay you? Is this a prank?” It’s you’re turn to laugh. You shake your head and the small but of panic that he felt is over “You’re sister was right, I do like you”  your eyes focus on your feet, not daring to make eye contact with him. “yeah she was right, I have a thing for ya too...” 

The night continued on, you two had a fabulous time. You continued to spend each night with Harry after that, just as you had been. Except now there were no doubts. You were dating each other, not the coffee guy and not the good looking costar.  It was the beginning of something both of you had only ever dreamed of. Gemma never let either of you forget that she was the one who set you up, you were both thankful for her scheming and never let her forget how grateful either of you were. 

[kjack89]

E studying late in the library, R as the late-night security guard

The only sound that came from the far corner of the second floor of the library was the steady, and occasionally emphatic, clacking of laptop keys as Enjolras hunched over his laptop. He only paused to grab a sip of coffee or swipe a notification from Twitter off of his phone screen, and as the time crept past midnight, he showed no sign of slowing down.

At least, he showed no sign until, without warning, the lights turned off.

Enjolras looked up, his face lit only by his laptop screen. “Hello?” he called, but no one answered. “Is anyone there?”

Again, there was no answer, and Enjolras glanced at first the time on his phone screen and then at the document he was working on, which was no closer to being done than it had been when he had started working on it some two hours prior, and he groaned. “God damnit,” he sighed, standing up and grabbing his phone and, after only a moment of hesitation, his coffee.

He made his way to the stairs, guided by the dim glow of the exit sign. Luckily, the lights were on in the stairwell, and Enjolras made his way to the ground floor. The lights were also off on the first floor, and Enjolras scowled before catching sight of a light from an office behind the circulation desk.

Enjolras stalked over and rapped his knuckles against the desk. “Hello?” he called, peering into the office. There was a man in there, lounging in his chair, and Enjolras raised his voice. “Excuse me?” The man did not look up and Enjolras scowled in irritation before practically bellowing, “Excuse me!”

The man startled upright, blinking owlishly through the window at Enjolras before standing and making his way to the office door. “Can I help you?” he asked mildly, which caused Enjolras’s blood pressure to skyrocket.

“Someone turned the lights off,” he said stiffly.

The man raised one dark eyebrow. “Pardon?”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “On the second floor,” he said. “Someone turned the lights off.”

Leaning casually against the doorway and crossing his arms in front of his chest – Enjolras tried not to stare at how his t-shirt stretched across his chest as he did – the man then had the audacity to smile at him. “I’m sure they did.”

“Right,” Enjolras said, tearing his eyes away from the tattoo on the man’s bicep. “Only, I’m trying to get some work done and that normally requires, y’know, light.”

The man nodded. “One might think.”

Enjolras counted to five in his head to try and stop from yelling. “Are you going to turn the lights back on?”

The man tugged at the collar of his university t-shirt as he considered it. “No.”

“What?”

“No, I’m not going to turn the lights back on.”

Enjolras stared at him, his mouth hanging open, before drawing himself up to glare at him. “And why the hell not?” he demanded.

The man shrugged. “Library closed at midnight.”

Enjolras blinked. “Since when?”

“Since we’re operating under summer break hours,” the man told him, sounding far too amused, and Enjolras scowled again.

“It’s May.”

The man smiled lazily at him. “Your grasp of the calendar year notwithstanding, the semester’s over, so the library is no longer open 24/7.”

Enjolras tried very hard not to seethe. “So you’re kicking me out.”

The man shrugged again. “I mean, I’m not gonna bodily remove you from the building or something, but yeah, I am gonna ask you nicely to leave, and if you refuse, I’ll probably have to call campus security.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “You’re not campus security?”

“I’m library security,” the man corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?” Enjolras asked sourly.

“Slightly less fascist,” the man said cheerfully, and Enjolras almost smiled. Keyword being almost. “Also I’m a student, and mostly I’m here to make sure folks swipe their IDs when they come in and to stop folks from walking out with books they haven’t checked out.”

Enjolras cocked his head. “And what’s the punishment for that?”

“Normally me escorting them to the checkout counter so that they can check them out.”

Enjolras huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not getting the vibe that you have a lot of authority here.”

The man chuckled. “That’s because I don’t.” He hesitated before adding, “My name’s Grantaire. And you are…?”

“Not sharing my name to prevent you from sharing it with campus security,” Enjolras replied coolly.

Grantaire grinned. “That’s a mouthful, your parents must’ve really hated you.”

Enjolras smiled slightly as well. “I mean, they did, but not for that reason.”

Grantaire took a step towards him. “If I promise not to report you, will you tell me your name?”

“How about you turn the lights on the second floor back on?” Enjolras countered.

“They’re on a timer, and I don’t have the means of overriding it, so unless you want me to stand up there holding my flashlight up for you to read by…”

Enjolras smirked. “Now that is a tempting thought.”

Grantaire gave him what Enjolras imagined he thought of as a pleading look. “C’mon, tell your name. I can go through the records of ID swipes, but I’d really rather not have to take that kind of time.”

“Why do you want to know my name so badly?” Enjolras asked.

“Because I have a feeling I’m going to be seeing a lot of you this summer,” Grantaire said archly. “Besides, I like to know the name of the cute guy I’ve been flirting with for the last fifteen minutes.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to scoff, or to tell him that this wasn’t flirting, or to do any number of things to rebuff the implication, but instead, what came out was, “Enjolras.”

Grantaire blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“My name is Enjolras.”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire repeated, a slow smile crossing his face. “Wow, your parents really did hate you.”

“Almost as much as yours,” Enjolras shot back, “naming you Grantaire.”

Grantaire laughed. “Like you said, mine did too, but not because of the name.” He hesitated. “Why don’t you work down here?”

Enjolras blinked. “What?”

“I can’t turn the lights back on upstairs, and the only lights are going to be in stairwells or around emergency exits, or here, at my desk. As comfortable as I imagine studying in the stairwell would be, I’m pretty sure I can rustle up another chair for you.”

The offer took him by surprise, and Enjolras hesitated, trying to find a good reason not to and coming up short. “Are you going to watch TV all night?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Maybe. But I can put some headphones on if it’ll bother you.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you sort of need to pay attention to the security of the building?”

“Yes, because I’m sure all of the students who have gone home for the summer are planning to break into the library,” Grantaire said dryly.

Enjolras laughed lightly. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Grantaire perked up. “So is that a yes?”

Enjolras hesitated for only a moment more before jerking a nod. “Let me grab my stuff.”

Grantaire grinned. I’ll be here.”

“I’m sure you will,” Enjolras muttered, turning around to grab his things from upstairs. He knew that he should just go home, or maybe move to Starbucks or the student union, both of which he was pretty sure were still open 24/7.

But if he was being honest, he was mostly just working to have something to do while he waited for Combeferre and Courfeyrac to get back to campus. And besides, whether or not it was flirting, if Enjolras was being entirely honest, he hadn’t entirely hated the conversation he’d had with Grantaire.

Even if Grantaire was two steps away from being a fascist cop.

His mind made up, Enjolras gathering his belongings and made his way back to the circulation desk, letting himself behind the desk and joining Grantaire back in the office, where, true to his word, Grantaire had procured another chair. “Voila,” Grantaire said, grinning up at him, and Enjolras set his stuff down on the desk, glancing at the computer screen, which was paused on an advertisement.

“What are you watching?” he asked.

Grantaire glanced at the computer as if he’d completely forgotten he was watching anything. “Oh, uh, Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”

“Seriously?” Enjolras demanded.

“Yeah, well, it’s quite popular—”

Enjolras snorted. “Sure, it’s copaganda repackaged into a sitcom, what’s not to love?”

Grantaire whistled lowly. “Wow, you must be fun at parties.”

“I make it my business not to attend too many parties,” Enjolras retorted.

Grantaire looked amused. “I’m not entirely sure that’s the comeback you think it is.”

Enjolras had realized the same thing, and flushed slightly. “Seriously, though, don’t you understand what role shows like Brooklyn Nine-Nine or Law & Order or—”

“Or Chicago PD or NCIS or CSI when it was still airing,” Grantaire continued, nodding officiously.

Enjolras glared at him. “My point,” he said icily, “is that these shows have engendered in the American public a tacit complicity in the ever-expanding and increasing militarization of our police.”

Grantaire nodded. “They sure do.”

“You agree with me?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “That surprises you?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I mean, I was expecting even boilerplate pushback about how it’s ‘just a show’ or something like that.”

“Entertainment is as much a reflection of society as it is a tool to shape it,” Grantaire said, propping his feet up on the desk. “Only an idiot would argue against that.”

“And I’m meant to believe you’re no idiot,” Enjolras said dryly. “So then are you just...ok with the militarization of our police?”

Grantaire sighed. “Of course not.”

“Ok, so you acknowledge the role shows like this play, and you are against said role, but you’re watching it anyway?”

Grantaire considered it for a moment. “Yeah, sounds about right,” he said cheerfully.

Enjolras stared at him. “But...why?”

“Because I believe you can critically engage with the media you consume while also, y’know, consuming it,” Grantaire said. “Besides, it’s funny.” Enjolras shook his head slowly but Grantaire didn’t let him speak, instead patting the seat next to him invitingly. “Look, you and I can and probably will argue about this all night, but how about you sit for it? I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

“Really?” Grantaire asked mildly. “I would think you of all people would be more in favor of an egalitarian seating arrangement.”

Even though Enjolras glared at him, he nonetheless sat down. “Fine,” he said stiffly. “But don’t think that this conversation is done.”

Grantaire grinned at him. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, I’ve got all night. Are you going somewhere?”

This time, Enjolras didn’t hesitate. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[spasmsofthought]

milk + instagram live (t.h.)

I traveled to London (and Oxford), England in March of 2019 for my spring break my sophomore year of university, so some things mentioned here are entirely from personal experience, so please don’t hate me if you’ve experienced something different! I stayed at a hotel in between West Kensington and West Brompton (a few blocks away from West Brompton Station) and one day some family members and I decided to attend a local showing at a cinema nearby and it was SO. DIFFERENT. than the theaters I had been to in the States. IDK, maybe it was just me. The entire experience was like culture shock again in the few days I had been there, so I had to bring that up in this little piece. Also the thing about milk is something I have genuinely wondered about, cause I’ve heard it’s different in England than it is in the USA, but I may be wrong. Let me know! Anyways, I have big love for London (and supreme love for Oxford, sorry) and I’m looking forward to going back someday soon! 

The reader is non-celebrity and American, so I’m sorry if that feels exclusionary to any of you, honestly! I thought this might be just a little fun jaunt because I don’t really write real person fiction. Just a bit of fluff. 

Sorry for this long intro. Enjoy and let me know what you think! xo  

Word Count: ~1.5k 

+ + + 

It’s some sort of exclusive interview for a magazine or something of the sort, you’ve been told; a collection of questions they want you to answer to publish somewhere, to print as something special for one of Tom’s things. That’s all you know. It’s just something you agreed to do after his publicist had asked a few weeks ago. It wasn’t like you did this for a living, so there was an attitude of nonchalance about it all because if they ended up not liking it one bit, they could scrap it all and no harm, no foul. 

“Now,” the interviewer begins, a man in his 40′s with balding hair and a slightly crooked nose, sitting in the chair across from you, “I know you just announced that you got married, so congratulations, firstly--” 

“Oh, thank you,” hands folded on your lap, smiling sweetly. You know people want their well-wishes to be heard and recorded, but sometimes it’s easy to imagine a completely private life, fame free, in which this isn’t the biggest news in the world (or just the biggest news for a day in the entertainment industry in the United States and England); a life where this is just a normal thing that normal people decide on, there’s a celebration, and that’s really it. It’s not splashed on newspapers and trending on Twitter, even though that can be a fun thing. 

“I’ve been really happy these last few months since we got married and was excited to tell all of Tom’s Instagram followers,” there’s a break for a small laugh from you, “There’s been such an abundance of well wishes from everyone and I’ve felt so incredibly lucky because I know not every woman who has been in my position has recieved such a reception.” 

The interviewer gives a move of his head in recognition of your words, but his eyes are already flying down the paper he holds in front of him, “There have been quite a few changes that have happened, I’ve been informed, and the first is that you decided to move to London!” 

“Ha, yes,” you begin, nodding, “Not only did I just completely intertwine my life with another person’s, but I moved to an entirely new country. There’s definitely a lot of culture shock that has happened these past few months.” 

The interviewer kind of chortles along with you, but the awkwardness has already settled in and you can feel it because you are the literal worst at small talk. And that’s all this interview is. 

“Any cons you’ve listed already about residing here amongst us?” 

“Oh no,” you groan dramatically, trying to lighten up the mood, a hand coming to cover your eyes for a moment, “you have to promise not to tell my husband, because I do have a few things actually.” 

“I make no promises, as this interview will be completely up for grabs,” The man holds up his hands and you’re a little disappointed that he doesn’t seem to want to play along with the joke. 

You brush it off, though, because he’s either nervous or he’s here for a few questions to be answered and then he wants to be out of here. You get it; you have a job, too, that sometimes squeezes the patience out of you. 

“Well for one, the local cinemas are just set up so different than the ones I went to all the time in the States. I still have to prepare myself for the experience every time,” there’s a little bit of an awkward pause. 

“We have different cinemas?” He asks, like he’s suspecting something more; something deeper. Maybe he wants something more scandalous? You nod along, though, smiling softly at his confusion. It has always felt funny trying to explain this. 

“And I miss people smiling at me in public, on the tube or in the more crowded public spaces where I don’t really know anyone. People are literally so lovely when they invite me into their homes to eat with them and stuff like that, but I’ve only got one reaction from someone for smiling at them. Most of them just stare for a second or ignore me entirely! I don’t know, maybe it’s just me.” 

He shrugs, not quite sure what to say to that, because he’s not at fault for it. It seems most people know what you’re talking about when you say this and you’ve garnered that it’s a cultural thing for the most part. You don’t fault anyone for it. 

“Also,” your hand comes to scratch at a place above your left eyebrow, “I know this is weird, and I don’t even know if it’s entirely true, but I haven’t drank milk in the months since I’ve moved here because I heard in America that milk is made differently here or something like that. I haven’t been able to gather up the courage to find out if it’s true or not, and I mostly drink water or juice or whatever else so my husband hasn’t bat an eye yet. I just don’t want to ruin my previous experience with milk,” You shrug your shoulders and laugh. Your hands come unclasped and you hold them out in a surrender-like gesture. 

Your final answer seems to startle the interviewer, because his laugh is surprised and maybe a bit shocked and leaves just as quickly as it came. The rest of the short conversation, lasting only a few more minutes, continues smoothly. After sitting around in the office for a little while longer, you are free from the place and from (hopefully) ever having to do this again without Tom. Your schedule is blissfully empty for the rest of the day, a Saturday, so you eventually make your way home. 

- - 

“What’s this I hear about your fear of English milk?” The door opens first and then the voice follows. 

Of course, that would be the first thing he says to you after a whole day of not seeing each other. 

“Good evening, darling, how was your day?” You quip from the couch, what’s left of your cup of tea gone cold on the coffee table parallel to it. “Oh my day was fine, Tom. I’m glad you’re the one who does the regular rounds with the press, not me, because I was so awkward today. How was yours?” 

You hear his keys clink against something, probably the kitchen counter, and then the rustle of a bag. It takes a second but then you see his hands grip to top of the sofa as he leans down towards you. There’s a quick kiss that comes before he rights himself. The marital bliss has not faded away yet given that adoring look in his eyes. It is the same look he gave you standing right across from you the day of your wedding, the same one you saw four months ago on your honeymoon, and the one he gave you last night while getting ready for bed as he brushed his teeth. 

“I got something from the shop on my way home,” He wiggles his eyebrows and you know some part of you saw this coming from a mile away. 

You know now that the shop means the grocery store because a few months ago you had asked him what the term meant (“it’s so vague, though,” “darling, I’m not going to waste my breath calling it the ‘grocery store.’”). (There are still many British terms you have yet to learn.) You allow yourself to sit up and then turn around to meet him as your knees come to dig into the cushions. Now you both are almost at the same height. 

“God, I hate you,” You chuckle, leaning towards him. 

“The ring on your finger says otherwise, love,” You roll your eyes but then press an elongated kiss to his lips. There’s a few moments where he gets some in down your neck and behind your ear before he pulls away. 

“C’mon,” He says, pulling your arms and almost vaulting you over the couch and onto the cold, hard floor, “to the kitchen we go! You need to drink some milk.” It takes a few more minutes for you both to actually get there, but then he grabs the carton from the bag and a glass from a kitchen cupboard. 

He pours a little at the bottom of the glass, not even filling it up a quarter of the way. Part of you wants to shudder, part of you is feeling adventurous enough to be excited. But then he pulls his phone from the pocket of his jeans and asks if he can go live on Instagram. For a moment you consider saying no, simply because you’re not sure if you want to open yourself up to the world of Tom’s Instagram followers watching you try your first taste of non-American milk, but then you decide “why not?” It can’t do any real harm, right? 

Tom hands the glass to you and you place it on the counter in front of you as you sit down at a stool. You can see the moment on his face the live video starts and a second later he quickly explains the situation. 

It does not take you much longer to become a viral internet meme.  

[ohsnapcracklepopfriends]

To be named GGMU fic: Part three - Drunk Mancs and Karaoke Don't Mix

After way too long, I'm back with another instalment of my GGMU fic (three parts down, four to go). Sorry, it took so long, life has been insanely hectic. I just wrote this in an hour of power writing, I hope you like it. Part one and part two if you haven't read them <3

Christmas parties at Sky were generally a disaster. Not only did they usually involve a room full of people all too competitive for their own good, there was usually the presence of both alcohol and cell phones which were a dangerous combination. All of this was worse to witness sober. Jamie had made the terrible decision of being the designated driver. Gary had one rule that he’d made clear to Jamie when they first started going out together: do not put drunk Gary in a cab. Gary’s a handsy drunk with zero self-control. They both know sitting in the back of a cab with drunk Gary was a recipe for a traumatized cabbie and a couple of disastrous news articles in the morning. So Jamie had agreed to drive, and that was fine. He was fine with it, truly. Jamie watched as Gary danced around in the bar they had rented out, jumping around freely while Graeme looked on with his disapproving grimace. Jamie wished he could be dancing with him, blaming it on the alcohol.

Jamie took a sip of his apple juice--which was fucking good, okay? Back off. He swished it around in his mouth, pretending it was something stronger. He swallowed and looked up. Gary was still jumping around without a care in the world. Jamie could tell he was really drunk. Gary was a total lightweight and he’d probably had about four beers to get to this point. Jamie chuckled to himself, thinking back to the nights they’d shared together when they first started dating. They’d spent quite a few nights on the floor of Gary’s living room with a bottle of wine and a bag of crisps. Jamie treasured those nights. He treasured the moments where Gary was buzzing and less scared of his emotions, letting them just enjoy their time together without Gary’s mind spinning.

Gary looked in Jamie’s direction. His face lit up when he saw Jamie leaning against the counter. He scrambled over until he stood right up against Jamie’s shoes.

“Did you see Redders?” Gary asked in a rush. Jamie laughed at the big goofy smile on his lips. He did, in fact, see Redders. Redders had taken to the small stage in the corner after his third pint. He’d been singing away at the top of his lungs--very poorly, Jamie might add--for the past hour or so.

“I want to sing, James. Come sing with me.” He tugged at Jamie’s arm. Jamie had fallen for this trap before. Last year he’d made the mistake of joining Gary for some drunk karaoke and ended up trending on Twitter. Jamie was not a singer for a reason.

“I’m sure Redders will sing with you” Jamie offered. Gary pouted. Gary was one of those people who were easy to imagine as a child. He could see a younger Gary in the way he acted when he was tired, grumpy, stubborn, and bleary-eyed. He could see a younger Gary in the way he giggled at Jamie’s jokes. He could see a younger Gary in the way he pouted during times like this, trying to sway Jamie to agree with him. It worked more than Jamie liked to admit.

“I’ll come and watch you?” Jamie tried to bargain again. Gary nodded this time and dragged Jamie towards the stage. Jamie happily let himself be pulled along. Gary’s hand was warm and sweaty where it was clutching at Jamie’s, but Jamie didn’t mind. After playing football for that long, he couldn’t be bothered by sweat anymore. After one testimonial match, Jamie found he actually liked Gary sweaty: he liked to lick beads of sweat off of Gary’s furrowed brows and watch him shutter--but that’s a story for another time.

Jamie wished they could stay like this, Gary holding his hand tightly, tugging insistently on it every few seconds, but all too soon, they found themselves at the stage. Gary dropped his hand and hopped up onto the small, wooden platform. Redders was still on the stage, red-faced and (poorly) belting the ending to Tainted Love. The stage was so small that the two men took up most of the space. Gary reached behind Redders to grab the second microphone. He grabbed Redders by the shoulder and whispered in his ear. Redders’ amused smile made Jamie nervous: what the hell did this drunk idiot have in mind?

Redders jumped off the stage with far too much grace for someone as injury prone and drunk as Jamie knew he was. He ran over to the karaoke machine and picked their song before scurrying back onto the stage to join Gary. Jamie was confused when the guitar started and he couldn’t place it.

“I got chills--” Redders started to sing and realization set into Jamie’s mind. Oh dear god, he thought, they’re doing Grease. “--It’s electrifying!” Jamie groaned. He couldn’t help himself. There was no way this wouldn’t somehow end up on Twitter. He knew sober Gary would not find this nearly as funny if it made headlines. Jamie started scanning the crowd for people with their phones out. Thankfully, most people had either gone home or were drowning themselves at the bar, after all, what was free booze for? Jamie noticed Geoff filming out of the corner of his eye. He practically ran over to him.

“You better shape up!” Gary starting singing now. He was by no means an angel, if Jamie was honest he was pretty fucking terrible. But like everything Gary did, he sang with a fiery passion and excitement that just made it utterly endearing. Jamie loved it when Gary sang.

“Give me that,” Jamie grabbed Geoff’s phone from his hands, which was pretty easy considering how sloshed he was. He barely even protested as Jamie deleted the videos and shut off his phone because Jamie was smart and knew Geoff was too far gone to figure out how to turn it back on.

“--tooooooo my heart I must be trueeeeeeee,” Gary was dancing around on the stage and Jamie couldn’t help but take a moment to stop worrying and just admire the carefree smile of his boyfriend, so blissfully happy as he made a fool out of himself in front of all of their colleagues. Jamie noticed that Gary was staring at him. Gary then brought his hand up to point directly at him.

“You’re the one that I want! Oh! Oh! Oh! Jamie!” Oh no. Oh no. This was a complete disaster. Jamie couldn’t stop himself, he jumped up on the stage. The limited space meant he had to stand pressed against Gary. Gary just smiled up at him and shoved his microphone up to Jamie’s lips. And as much as he hated it, Jamie could never deny him anything.

“Oh yes indeed,” Jamie half-sang, half spoke. It was awkward and hard to listen to even to his own ears, but Gary beamed at him and Jamie felt a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

And then he remembered why he got up here in the first place: not to sing, not to smile at Gary like a big, lovesick dork--no, he was here to put an end to this. He was here to take Gary home safely before any further disaster could strike just like he’d promised.

“If you’re filled with affection--” Redders started to sing again. Jamie used this opportunity to make their escape. He pried the microphone from Gary’s hands before placing it gently on the stage. He put his arm around Gary’s middle and firmly led him off the stage.

“Where are we going?” Gary asked. He was looking up at Jamie from where he was tucked against Jamie’s side. Jamie knew it was probably too intimate a position for them to hold in public but he found he was too exhausted to care.

“We’re going home, love,” Jamie said softly against Gary’s ear. Gary gave him a wicked grin and started to worm his fingers under Jamie’s jacket. Jamie pushed his arm away holding it against Gary’s side. This was not the time or place.

“You’re going to make me wait for it?” Gary asked. “That’s okay. It’ll be better when you fuck me later. I’ll be so ready. I’ll be begging for you.” Jamie let out a long breath. Fuck. Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you looked at it, they were out of the bar, walking down the street towards Jamie’s car. On the bright side, no one was close enough to hear Gary being far too drunk to care that he’s being far too loud. However, anyone could be on the street: reporters, idiots with cameras, though now Jamie is realizing that those are kind of the same thing. Jamie’s kidding, of course. He guessed he was kind of a journalist himself now. He generally thought of journalists as no-life drama vultures for the Daily Mail or worse The S*n.

Jamie was pretty used to wrangling drunk Gary into vehicles against his will, but this time was different. Gary was usually uncooperative just for the sake of being uncooperative. This trait just worsened after a few pints. That night Gary was shockingly content, though. He wasn’t argumentative or difficult, he was sweet and happy. He leaned into Jamie’s side on their walk and looked up at him like he just signed Messi for Man United (which Jamie couldn’t do obviously, and even if he could, he wouldn’t). When it came time to get into Jamie’s car, Gary went without complaint, let alone their usual wrestling match. Jamie was honestly getting kind of worried.

“Are you high?” He asked as he put the car in reverse. Jamie had never known Gary to smoke but he figured it was a possible explanation for his strange behaviour. Gary hummed in confusion.

“What?” He asked. Gary’s face was smushed against the passenger window, fogging up the glass with every breath.

“Are you okay?” Jamie rephrased his question for Gary’s scrambled brain, “you seem weird.”

“I’m not weird, James,” he said, his words even more drawn out than usual, “I’m happy.” He started humming something under his breath but it was so quiet that Jamie could not make it out over the engine. “Singing makes me happy, Jamie,” Gary said and Jamie knew. Gary was generally not as public of a singer as he had been that night, but he always loved singing. He sang in the shower, something that Jamie found entirely endearing. Jamie loved waking up in the morning to the sound of water and Gary’s slow voice. Jamie remembered Gary doing karaoke all the way back in their England days. He and Crouchy were always the most enthusiastic, though Jamie would never have guessed that until he saw it with his own eyes.

“I know,” Jamie said, “it makes me happy, too.” It was probably a little too honest but Jamie knew Gary wouldn’t notice. Even if he did notice, he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

“Do you want me to sing to you?” And yet again, Jamie just couldn’t say no to Gary. Jamie expected more of what he’d heard at the pub: some eighties songs, maybe an NSYNC song or two (Redders loved NSYNC). He didn’t expect Gary to start happily singing Glory Glory Man United in his fucking car.

“Gary, what the hell?” Jamie protested but Gary just shushed him and kept singing. Jamie could hear his feet tapping against the mat of the car. And right when Jamie was about to smack Gary in the head, he realized something: Gary was drunk. Now obviously it didn’t take a genius to figure that out: he’d been steadily drinking since the party began and you could see the drunkenness in his red, flushed ears. But Jamie realized that Gary’s drunk brain was prone to forgetting basic, fundamental information. Like, for example, that Jamie was a Scouser.

Jamie figured that in Gary’s drunk brain, he wanted to sing a song to make Jamie happy. But like he’d forgotten that Tracey played netball on New Year the year before or that he was a right-back on one especially wild Wednesday night, he had forgotten that the song that brought his manc heart so much joy, did not spark the same happy memories for his boyfriend. He wasn’t trying to get on Jamie’s nerves and that knowledge comforted Jamie enough not to reach over and strangle him. So Jamie just let him sing and quietly suffered as he drove along. He tried to tamp down the simmering irritation the song automatically sparked in the pit of his stomach.

Mercifully for Jamie, Gary drifted off in the passenger’s seat less than ten minutes into their drive. Jamie instead drove the rest of the way to the sound of Gary’s loud snores.

[bleedinglovehes]

liam payne sucks tbh

This compilation is for my dear friend, who goaded me into making a comprehensive list of every time Liam Payne has been openly homophobic in the past ten years, with a couple of bonuses at the end! Because he has been. A lot. He’s displayed his privilege and offended LGBTQ+ people on multiple occasions and shows no signs of even attempting to educate himself or empathize with those his words have hurt. On that note, let us begin this journey.

Let’s start with the obvious, shall we? The infamous Duck Dynasty's Family Values tweet. Anyone who’s been in the One Direction fandom should be able to easily recall the incident, but I’ll break it down for you. On January 18th Liam tweeted about how he loved the “family values” on Duck Dynasty. By that time, it was know that the family was openly homophobic. Just one month prior, in December 2013, the families patriarch (Phil Robertson) was suspended from the show following homophobic remarks that received backlash. (He compared homosexuality to beastiality).Liam immediately received backlash for the tweet, for good reason, so later that day he took to twitter to claim that “Being a fan of someones show and the way they still hold a family together doesn't mean i am ok with all they say”. (https://twitter.com/LiamPayne/status/424679109634314240) That was his “apology”. Now, Liam’s association with the Robertson’s did not end there. 8 months later he posted a happy birthday message from Willie Robertson (Phil’s son) on his instagram. Though his interacting with the Robertsons had upset many LGBT+ people, Liam continued to openly support the family.The very next month he, and close friend Andy Samuels (pay attention to that name, we’ll reference it later) went shooting in Louisiana with the family. Andy and Willie Robertson’s sister in law both posted about the event at the time, but the posts have since been deleted.

Now if you were one of the delusional people still convinced of Liam’s membership in the LGBT+ community, you may find lot’s of faults in my logic. Him supporting a family sticking together doesn’t mean he shares their homophobic values, and you’re right, to an extent. But a queer person would not be so careless. Liam is displaying his privilege as a straight white man by ignoring the disgusting homophobia displayed by the patriarch, and likely shared by his sons and grandchildren. So, with that incident we have, at the very least, hopefully shown the audience Liam’s blatant ignorance when it comes to the LGBT community.

Let’s continue. 2014 was the start of a startling trend of tasteless comments Mr. I-Used-To-Be-In-1D-Now-I’m-Free has made in relation to the community. In August of 2015, Liam said that Girl Almighty (a One Direction song he wrote on) is about "trying to find that number one woman of your life” which would have been fine, except he went on to say that “none of [the fans] can relate to, because most of you are girls. Except for the boys in here, you know what I'm talking about." Almost immediately, his remarks were under fire for being too heteronormative, and he was accused of being homophobic. Instead of using the incident as a learning experience, Liam took to twitter to first clarify he is “in no way shape or form homophobic that's a ridicules thing to say and I'm not here to offend people so take it as you will”. Essentially, rather than apologize to every LGBT girl at the show, he decided to say since he’s not homophobic the comments weren’t offensive. He went on in another tweet and called the statement that deeply offended his non straight female fans “throwaway”. All I can gather from his little twitter tirade is that Liam was upset that his “throwaway” comment hurt LGBT people and that those people would not let it go. He finished by tweeting “crap end to a good day”, blaming the backlash rather than his own ignorant comment. All of the tweets are still on twitter and a quick search will bring them up for you.

2015 was a big year for Liam in terms of casual homophobia, and just one month after the Girl Almighty Incident, he was back at it again with… The Pride Flag Incident. Now, to provide some background, pride flags started making appearances at the shows in large numbers thanks to The Rainbow Project. The project was started to promote a safe space for LGBTQ+ fans. It garnered a lot of attention and the starters of the project clarified several times that it had nothing to do with the infamous “Larry” ship, which I will not discuss as frankly it’s not relevant to my main point. So a month before the Pride Flag Incident The Rainbow Project was getting attention from the media. Anyone who took two seconds to research the project and motivation behind it would know that it was only to support queer fans.

Okay but seriously, the Pride Flag Incident was a big deal. Let me explain. In the summer of 2015, gay marriage was legalized in the US. LGBTQ Americans were absolutely thrilled, for good reason, and pride flags were seen in abundance. So here’s what happened. Liam was interviewed by Attitude, a UK gay magazine. Now he started off alright, claiming that he found it, “funny that being gay is still something that’s talked about as though it’s not natural”. The use of the term “funny” is… troublesome for me, but that’s not the issue with the article. It’s his next statements that, once again, show his ignorance. He talked about there being an increase in rainbow flags at One Direction shows following the legalization of gay marriage. He made the correct point and he should've stopped there. Unfortunately, he continued, saying “I think that was mainly because people think of the Louis and Harry thing, which is absolutely nuts and drives me insane.” Once again he ignored the huge queer fanbase One Direction had amassed at that point and was subject to backlash. He, once again, took to twitter and, once again, stood by his ignorant comments rather than make a real apology. I won’t bring up Harry. I won’t bring up Harry. I won’t bring up Harry. I won’t bring up Harry… ok fine I have to. Harry actually waved a pride flag at the next concert they had. AKA, the one right after Liam’s comments were made public. Harry was, according to Liam, one of the people being disrespected by the pride flags.

I’m sensing a trend here. Liam makes an ignorant comment that offends people, Liam goes on twitter and stands by the ignorant comments, Liam claims people offended are in the wrong. Moving on, I'm honestly not sure what Liam did in 2016. I think that’s when Strip That Down was released. Anyways he only offended…. every one direction stan with that.

2017 though, that one was big. That’s when Liam made The Clothing Comments. So in May he was on the radio, probably promoting something, and was asked which members of One Direction he would let watch his child. He said that he’d pick Louis, because he’s a dad, and that neither Harry nor Niall made the cut. The issue? His reasoning behind why Harry wasn’t a suitable babysitter was that, “I couldn’t rely on Harry because I feel that my child would come out dressed in something that I just wouldn’t understand”. Yet. Another. Ignorant. Comment. Harry had, beginning in 2014 and continuing to 2020, been dressing in a non traditionally masculine way. 2014 had him sporting pussy bow blouses while 2020 has gifted us with a lace jumpsuit equipped with matching lace gloves. Now, therein lays the issue with his comment. Harry doesn’t dress in a traditionally masculine way. That was apparent in 2017. That’s what Liam had an issue with. Also, Liam has been making comments about Harry’s fashion sense on a semi consistent basis since that article dropped so… yea.

2018’s… incident… is almost funny to me because once again Liam display’s absolute ignorance when it comes to the LGBT community. It began with Liam taking place in Adidas’s Prouder campaign in June. It was sponsored by a bunch of celebrities and an article was released where each gave a quote about what makes them proud, obviously in relation to Pride. When Liam was asked the question he answered “I think since I’ve had a little boy, everything changes in life. ‘I’m aiming more for him to be prouder of me, and already he’s making me a better man, which I think is incredible.’” He did not reference the community he was supposedly supporting. He received immense backlash for his “straight pride” comments on twitter and gay news outlet Pink News.All in all it was just insensitive. He was dragged on twitter for not knowing the meaning of pride and the movement he was supporting.That’s not where the incident ended though. On July 7th London hosted the annual Pride Parade, that I’ve heard Liam promised to attend. I do not have receipts for this, so my next point may seem a little weak at first, but stay with me. Instead of attending the event, Liam attended a Dolce and Gabbana fashion show. Why might that be an issue? Well, since 2015, the fashion label has been called homophobic after two directors made insensitive comments about same sex parenting. So, if you don’t believe he promised to attend the show, the fact that he attended a show for a homophobic brand should upset you.In fact, Liam has shown no indication of distancing from the brand. In contrast, Harry has only been seen wearing Dolce and Gabbana once since the comments were made. (Performing on the Jimmy Kimmel show in Nov. 2015). Liam has worn D&G several times in the years since the comments were made.

2019 was a bad year for Liam, and not just because he took Zayn, Harry, and Niall’s number ones and slapped them together to debut at #111 on the Billboard Hot 100. In July he was paid by the Saudi Regime to perform in Saudi Arabia. The issue? In Saudi Arabia being gay is a crime and women’s rights activists are jailed. Nicki Minaj was also set to perform at the festival but backed out due to the Saudi Regime’s blatant homophobia and sexism. Once again he displayed his ignorance and privilege. He’s not queer, he’s not a woman. So he accepted the money and performed. Now I know he had fans there excited to see him, but he made the wrong choice. He should’ve backed out and not accepted any money from the Saudi Regime. July was just not a good month for Liam.So he was asked whether or not he planned to vote in the election. His response? “I think I will vote but I am always out of the country. We need a mobile app where we can vote with our thumbprint or something. I mean, in regards to Boris or Jeremy, I don’t think we give people enough time. Same with West Brom football club. They always change their manager every week it seems and we never get time to gel with anybody.” He’s just so ignorant. As a rich white straight man, the election had no effect on him. He seemed to indicate a preference for Boris Johnson, a racist sexist homophobe. December was by far his worst though. So his debut album, LP1, dropped at the beginning of the month. Immediately, Liam was attacked for his fetishization of bisexual woman, seen in the song “Both Ways”. It’s just disgusting, and made worse by his history with the LGBTQ community. A straight man singing about how hot it is that his girlfriend likes girls is just… so bad. That whole incident speaks for itself in my opinion. That brings us to the reappearance of his comments about Harry’s clothing. He claimed that “I couldn’t put myself in that. I’d look fucking… It’d look weird.” Now, has anyone seen what Liam has worn over the years? Liam’s issue is that the Met Gala look was feminine. He’s claimed to be the antichrist version of Harry, and you know what? I see it. He’s a straight man uncomfortable with men wearing feminine clothing and gay people in general. Harry is a queer man who thrives in feminine styled or women’s clothing. They really are opposites.

So what have I established? A pattern of ignorance that have hurt LGBT people on multiple occasions. Now, ignorance does not equate homophobia, so here’s how we know. Remember his friend Andy Samuels? Well he’s been openly homophobic (and sexist) on his social media. He’s been friends with Liam for over a decade. Remember when Harry made his iconic “not that important” comment? Liam’s reaction is… troublesome. He does a short laugh, and then glances off camera with an uncomfortable look on his face. Take from that what you will. There are UNCONFIRMED rumors of Liam using homophobic language backstage at One Direction concerts. Like with his reaction to Harry’s “not that important'' comment, there is no proof, but, based on his other actions, I am inclined to believe it happened. So there you have it. Liam’s history of ignorance. Homophobia is defined as a “dislike of or prejudice against homosexual people”. I think it’s safe to say that applies to Liam. He’s uncomfortable with feminine styled men, supports homophobes (The Duck Dynasty family, Dolce and Gabbana, Boris Johnson), and makes ignorant comments that are extremely offensive to LGBTQ people. He may not go around screaming slurs, but he is homophobic. He’s the type of homophobic person who claims not to be because he knows a gay person. Who claims the pattern of ignorance is simply the fault of the one getting offended. That’s who Liam Payne is. Look, you don’t have to agree that he’s homophobic, but you have to agree that he’s ignorant and refuses to get educated. And you have to admit that there is no way he’s LGBT. There is no way anyone could orchestrate a smear campaign that relied on so many casually ignorant statements and incidences.

This post was not my fault. Really. It’s wasn’t. It’s actually my friend’s fault. She told me that there were people on tumblr who actually believe Liam Payne is LGBTQ+. Shocking, I know. She also said that some people were comparing the experiences of Liam, a straight man, to Harry, his queer former bandmate. Which, no? And because I am so sure people will deny everything I have presented, a link to a google doc with links to each article and tweet I referenced has been included. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1i2lWQPr0oQeA_MYLdkmp6G19waj9KSYaQgcBek8O2OE/edit?usp=sharing

[louiseleblancdiggory]

hey, once in twitter we talk about how much we love Castle, so i was thinking if you could write a rowaelin scene based on caskett ♥️

OI GIO!!!!!! Ok so I had so much fun writing this. I decided to start from the very beginning so everyone (even those who didn’t watch it) know what’s going on. If you never watched Castle, you MUST!!! Also, fyi, the warnings are NOT about Ro or Aelin, they are absolutely fine in here. No sad shit, I promise

Warnings: mentions of graphic death

Gone death

--

Aelin winked at the red headed man in front of her, a grin plastered on her lips.

She handed him back the book, waving off his thank you as he scrunched away to enjoy the rest of the party. She looked around, half paying attention to the hundreds of people who had come to the release of her latest book.

Since Aelin was a seven, she had had a deep fascination with mystery and horror. Thankfully, she was also a fucking amazing writer, which allowed her to transform that fascination into her job. Now, twenty six years later, Aelin was the bestseller author of several stand alone as well as a series of eight books, all of them following the same two main characters while they investigated a series of gruesome murders. She had loved the series, had started writing them at fifteen and published the first one at twenty five. She thought she could write about Sam and Lyria forever.

Until she realized she couldn’t.

Aelin felt a hand gripping her elbow, and had to hold in her sigh as she turned around to stare at her ex husband.

One of Aelin’s biggest regrets in life was marrying so early. Chaol had been her college boyfriend, and they got married few months after they started dating. Looking back now, Aelin could see how stupid she had been, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. They got a divorce less than a year later, and Aelin would have been happy in never looking at him again. Unfortunately, he worked with her publishing team, and if she added that to their past together, she could almost understand why Chaol always felt so entitled to know and control everything in her life.

It was fucking distressing and annoying.

“If it’s not my money sucking ex husband. What did I do this time?”

He had a fake smile on his lips, looking at her as if he didn’t dislike her. “You killed your golden goose, Galathynius. You fucking killed your main characters.”

Aelin shrugged, taking a sip of her white wine. “It was time.” She started walking away, and had to hide her scowl when she realized Chaol was following her.

Some people couldn’t get the fucking hint, could they?

“Why would you do that? Sam and Lyria were making you filthy rich, and everyone loved them.”

“They got boring, that’s why.” Aelin stopped in her tracks, turning back to Chaol. She crossed her arms, raising her chin. “Writing The Guild used to be fun, used to be exciting. Writing Sam used to be interesting, but since the seventh book it has just been work. I don’t write for money, Chaol. I write because I love it. When I stopped loving it, I decided it was time to move on from them.”

“Wow, and God forbid you ever have to actually work like an adult, right?”

“It. Was. Time. Besides, Sam and Lyria are not the golden goose, I am.”

She said the words loud and clear, ignoring the frown on his face. Aelin always knew that Chaol saw her writing more as a job than as a passion, and it pissed her off endlessly. She turned around again, walking to the bar where her cousin and son were sitting. Her heels clinked against the marble floor, and the sound was almost loud enough to hide the fact that Chaol was following her. Again.

She sighed loudly as he began speaking. “You could have made them retire, could have made them get married and leave the force. Hell, you could have made them join the goddamn circus. But no, Aelin Galathynius must be dramatic and put two bullets on her main characters’ heads.” When she ignored him, he just kept talking. “What the hell are you going to do now, Aelin? You permanently ended The Guild with your stupidity, and we both know you don’t have any other ideas.”

At that, Aelin spun on her heels, clenching her fists to stop herself from physically attacking Chaol. The photographers would love seeing her getting into a brawl, and most of the rest of the party would probably find it immensely entertaining. Lysandra, however, wouldn’t find it so amusing. Her PR and best friend loved some mischief, but she also worked hard enough to make sure Aelin’s public image was a good one, so Aelin wouldn’t mess that up by fighting her ex.

“Who says that?”

Chaol snorted. “The nine week delay to publish the eighth book should be indication enough.”

“Can’t rush talent.” Aelin said, a nasty smile on her lips.

“I won’t say you’re not talented, Aelin, but you are out of ideas. You weren’t bored, you had a writer’s block and freaked out.” Chaol said, oblivious to Aelin’s rising temper. He looked at her, giving an infuriating shrug. “You have a month to hand me the new idea. A full and useable idea. The first manuscript, preferably. You’re famous, write any shit and people will eat it up.”

“Fuck off.” Aelin said through clenched teeth.

Chaol merely smiled as he walked away. “A month, Aelin.”

Aelin wanted to go after him and smack his face against one of the piles of books in the room. Fortunately for him, Aelin was stopped by several people who wanted her autograph in the newest and last book of The Guild. It probably took her an hour to get through everyone— talking and giving every single person her full attention— until she finally managed to make her way to the bar.

She spotted Aedion’s head first, his broad figure standing up against the bar and talking to a pitch-black haired boy, Nino, sitting down near him.

“Who does homework at a party?” She heard Aedion asking.

“I have a test next week.”

“So do I. It’s called dealing with your mom while she contemplates hitting her head against a wall to force an idea to come out.”

Nino laughed, looking at his uncle. “She’ll come up with something, she always does.”

Aelin smiled at her son, his words warming her. She had had Nino extremely young— had only been seventeen at the time— and he became her friend along with being her son. She approached her cousin from behind, listening to him ask for a glass of champagne.

“Make that two, please.” Aelin said and Aedion’s eyes immediately snapped to her as she approached the boy sitting down and passed an arm through his shoulders. She kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey, mom.”

Aedion grinned, raising his glass and gesturing around. “Built yourself an empire, Aeae.”

Aelin smiled in return, winking at her cousin. “Always said I would. But tell me, Aedion…”

“Uh-oh.” The boy Aelin was half hugging said, a humorous smirk on his face. “Someone’s in trouble.”

“Cut it, genius.” Aedion snapped, narrowing his eyes at the boy. “What’s up, Ae?”

“Did you tell Chaol I was having trouble writing?” Aelin smiled sweetly, even though she wanted to strangle her cousin right now. The look on his face was enough to give her the answer.

“I told him nothing of the sort.” Aedion replied quickly, defending himself. Aelin only raised an eyebrow at him. “Ok, I— I might have let slip that for the past nine weeks you have been walking around the apartment with either a cup of coffee or a bottle of wine while you curse the Gods for lack of creativity.”

“I am going to kill you.” Aelin said, a smile still plastered on her face as she noticed some cameras pointed at her. It was always like this whenever she went out with Nino.

“Ae, that’s ok. You’re an artist, that sort of thing is expected.”

“I can’t believe it, Aedion! The deal for you to live with us was plain and simple.”

“No meddling on her work.” Nino reminded Aedion, the boy looking immensely pleased at his uncle’s doom. “And no Chaol.”

“You know how things are with Chaol. No. Talking. About. My. Work.“ Aelin said, temper rising once more.

“What is there to talk about anyways?”

“Uncle!” Nino said exasperatedly.

“Whatever there is or isn’t to talk about,” Aelin was saying, jaw clenched. “I would appreciate if you didn’t share it with my ex husband.”

“Oh, I think I hear Lysandra calling me.” Aedion interrupted, absolutely ignoring Aelin. She narrowed her eyes, knowing damn well that Lysandra would never be calling Aedion judging by the brunette’s deep dislike of her best friend’s cousin. Aelin tried to stop him, but he just started walking away faster, shouting that they could talk at home.

It was just a fancy way of saying they wouldn’t discuss at all.

She turned around, looking at Nino. He had a smirk on his face as he looked down his physics book, a pen on his left hand.

“You should have stopped me.” Aelin grumbled.

“Letting uncle Aed move in?” Nino asked, looking up at his mom. “Nah, I think it’s sweet. Besides, I like him.”

Aelin only grumbled more, taking the two glasses the barista had put in front of her. She smiled in thanks, holding one of the glasses and placing the other in front of Nino. He smiled humorously, raising an eyebrow. “You know I’m only sixteen, right?”

“You’re an old soul.”

“Well me and my old soul can wait until I’m twenty-one.”

Aelin smiled at her son, all anger and tightness leaving her body. Nino had always been her steadying rock, since he was a baby his presence had always been enough to calm her down. Differently from her, however, Nino was extremely serious and responsible, always following the rules, studying and making sure everything was right.

Most times Aelin found it immensely funny to see how different from her he had turned out.

“When I was your age—“ She was saying, a grin on her face. She immediately stopped, frowning. “Can’t tell you that story. Too inappropriate for your innocent ears.”

Nino snickered, pushing the champagne glass away.

“Don’t laugh, boy, this is exactly my point. Don’t you want to have wild, law-breaking, inappropriate stories that you can’t tell your kids one day?” She rested her elbows at the counter, a smile on her lips.

“You’ve lived enough of those for both of us now, mom.”

Aelin snorted, taking a sip of her champagne. “You’re studying physics at a party. At your age I would have been drinking.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You were pregnant.” Nino said slowly, a winning smirk at his face.

“Damn it.” Aelin muttered, earning a laugh from Nino. Despite her crazy stories, Nino knew very well how responsible she had been during her pregnancy with him. Nino, since before birth, had been the one thing capable of making her act like a serious adult. “You want to know why I killed Sam and Lyria?”

Nino raised his brows at the change in the topic, but nodded just the same.

“Because life should be an adventure, sweetheart. It should be full of unexpected turns and plot twists. It should be full of funny stories, embarrassing stories, inappropriate stories.” Her smile became soft, and she grabbed one of his hands. “I had to kill them because it wasn’t an adventure anymore, it wasn’t surprising. I knew exactly where they would always go, what they would always do. If my own characters weren’t surprising me, how could I hope they would surprise anyone else?”

“Mom…”

“I’m not telling you to be like I was when I was younger, it’s definitely not your type. I just want to make sure that you know you can make mistakes every now and then. That I don’t expect you to be like me, but I also don’t expect you to be perfect.”

He matched her soft smile, squeezing her hand slightly. “I know, mom.”

“Good.” She straightened, taking her champagne glass and looking around. “You know what else is boring? These parties. After having sixteen of these, the seventeenth seems rather dull.”

Nino rolled his eyes. “Yeah, people praising you seems awfully boring, mom.”

Aelin grinned, resting her hips against the counter as she turned fully to him. “It’s always the same thing. ‘Oh my god, I’m such a big fan’, or maybe the ‘Where’d you get your ideas?’.

“Let’s not forget the fully adult men asking you to sign their chest.” Nino’s face crumbled in disgust.

Aelin laughed out loud, drinking from her glass. “I don’t mind that one very much.”

“Well, I do, if you’re interested in knowing.”

She snorted, putting the now empty glass down. “I don’t know, Nino. I just wanted for someone to surprise me once. I want something new to give me inspiration, to be my new muse. For the past eight years I have been hearing the same thing over and over again. I just want someone to catch me by surprise, to say something so shocking I won’t have a reaction, so surprising that I will—“

“Ms. Galathynius.” She was interrupted by a brisk tap on her shoulder. Nino raised his eyebrows at the person standing behind her, trying to get her attention in such impolite manner.

She forced a polite smile on her face, taking a pen from her bra. She turned around, raising the pen. “Where do I sign?”

A broad shouldered man was now standing in front of her, and even in heels Aelin had to tip her head back to stare at him. His arms her hanging by his side, his clothes extremely casual for him to be part of the party. His white button down and leather jacket hugged his arms and torso, and if his face wasn’t so enthralling, Aelin would probably have had a hard time not staring at the rest of him.

His features looked somewhat tense. His hair— probably blond, but looked so light that it could only be described as silver— a mess, almost as if he had ran his hands too many times through it. There was a crease between his eyebrows, and his pine green eyes were stuck on her face with such intensity that Aelin felt her face heating.

“Detective Whitethorn, OPD.” He said, voice grave and words rolling out of his tongue with a lovely Scottish accent. “I’m here to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight.”

Aelin registered his words, but didn’t have any reaction. She just stared at the man, her eyes looking quickly at the Orynth Police Department badge he was holding.

Nino laughed quietly, reaching over his mom to take the pen out of her hand. “Well, this is new.”

Only then she turned slightly to her son, a scowl at her face. “No shit, Sherlock.”

—----- 

Aelin had always written about this, but she never thought that she would herself be like one of the characters from her story.

Honestly, she wasn’t nervous at all, just curious.

Hundreds of people had seen her all afternoon and night at the party, and she knew that she hadn’t killed anybody, so fear was off the table. Now, why the police thought she had any knowledge about the crime at all was what made her so damn curious.

Upon arriving at the precinct, detective Whitethorn had left her at the care of two identical men. Both had the exact same face, but where one seemed to radiate light, the other one seemed to suck it. As they took her to wait in the interrogation room, she thought that they would make great main characters.

“Whitethorn will be back shortly, ma’am.” The serious twin said, walking out of the room as she sat down. The other twin, however, lingered.

He was staring at her, his head cocked to the side just like a wolf seizing his prey. Aelin stared right back, raising one eyebrow at him. Despite knowing she hadn’t killed anybody, something inside of her was tensing at his staring. Did they think that her involvement with the murder was more serious than she had initially thought?

“You killed your main characters.” He said, and the air rushed out of Aelin’s lungs. She scowled, suddenly pissed that he had made her so tense and it was actually just about a goddamn book.

“Yep. Bullet right through the head.” She made a finger gun and put it against her forehead. “Disappointed?”

He shrugged, resting against the threshold. “It was brilliant, but I adored Sam and Lyria. After eight years following the series, seeing your favorite characters being killed makes you want to kill the author.”

Aelin smiled when he winked at her. “Pardon. If it makes you feel better, I have already been scolded by my ex husband. Said it would have been better if I had just made Sam and Lyria join the circus.”

“Sam would have been a shit clown.”

Aelin nodded. “You’re right. Should have told that to my ex.”

The detective laughed, but was immediately interrupted when Whitethorn’s voice sounded from behind him. “Fenrys.”

“Sorry, Rowan.” Fenrys grimaced exaggeratedly, and Aelin grinned. “See you later, blondie.”

Aelin just nodded, her eyes immediately on Whitethorn when his figure approached the door.

“Ms. Galathynius.”

“Detective Whitethorn.” She eyed the manila folders he was holding. Some papers and photos were sticking out, but Aelin couldn’t really tell what they were.

He sat in front of her after closing the door, opening one of the folders. His eyebrows rose as he read, and he eyed Aelin quickly before sighing and putting the open folder at the table. “You have quite the history with the law for a best selling author, Ms. Galathynius. Public disturbance, disorderly conduct, resisting arrest…”

Aelin shrugged, a small smile on her lips. “Living all your adventures through paper seem a little too nerdish for me.”

Detective Whitethorn rested his forearms on the table, inclining himself forward. Aelin did the same, and his eyes narrowed at her.

“You stole a police horse once.”

“Borrowed.” Her smile widened. Detective Whitethorn, on the other hand, didn’t seem to find it funny in the slightest.

“And you were,” he looked down at the folder before looking at her again. “Nude.”

Aelin shrugged once more. “It was springtime.”

“And every time the charges were dropped.” He drew back, resting against his chair. “Care to explain?”

“The mayor enjoys reading The Guild.” Aelin sighed dramatically, propping on her elbows and resting her face against her hand. “You know how people love to bond over mutual interests. And he loves my son, there’s that too. But that’s besides the point.”

“Oh, is it?” For the first time, the detective seemed entertained.

“Yes. I don’t think you’re here to talk about my college prank of a decade ago, detective.” She half smiled. “So why don’t you make your murder questions so I can go home and convince my son to stop studying so his eyes won’t fall out?”

“Ms. Galathynius.” He said, smirking at her. Aelin didn’t think it was a good smirk, though. “I fully believe that the cocky, irreverent, hot girl slash genius act makes people eat out of the palm of your hand in your glamorous world, but I work for a living, so why don’t you cut the bullshit because in my world, you can be only two things.”

“You think I’m hot, detective?”

Whitethorn’s smirk didn’t waver. “You can be the person who makes my life easier and goes home quickly, or the person who makes my life harder and stays handcuffed here until you decide to be the first option.”

“I could make so many inappropriate jokes right now, you have no idea.” Aelin said, and she could swear his smirk turned more playful. She smirked back, crossing her arms. “I supposed I shouldn’t want to be the one making your life harder.”

He didn’t answer, just let go of the manila folder containing her information and opened the other one. He took out the picture of a brunette woman. Dark hair, brown skin and big black eyes, the girl couldn’t be older than twenty five.

Aelin grabbed the picture, analyzing it. “Hum, pretty.”

“And dead.”

“Gods, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

He didn’t reply, just took another picture out. This time it was a man, probably at the same age, but instead of bright and soft features the girl possessed, his skin was pale and blue eyes glassy.

“Recognize them?”

Aelin shook her head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She sighed, letting go of the pictures. “I’ve been to dozens of signings, events and parties, detective Whitethorn. I can’t possibly recall every face.”

“Not what I meant. Do you recognize their features?” He asked, tapping the pictures.

Aelin looked back down once more, looking at those faces until something hit her fully. “Sam and Lyria. They look like my characters Sam and Lyria.”

Detective Whitethorn seemed satisfied with her answer, because he took other two pictures and placed in front of her. One of them showed the girl, her body dressed in a series of white cloths, wild flowers surrounding her whole body. Where her eyes should be, two big daisies laid, and looking more carefully, Aelin could also see daisies stuffed in her mouth and nostrils.

The other picture showed the boy, his body laying inside a casket, instead of white cloths hugging his body, his were blood red. The floor around the casket showed a series of markings drawn in white chalk.

“Holy fuck.” She breathed.

Detective Whitethorn was eyeing her carefully. “Her name was Mandy, his was Felix. He was found dead two weeks ago, but we only made the connection after we found her today. The deaths look exactly like the ones described in chapter six and twenty two of your book Gone Death.”

“A fan?” Aelin asked, a humorous smile on her lips.

“Yes, a really deranged fan.”

“Oh, you don’t seem deranged.”

He looked up from the pictures, frowning. “I’m sorry?”

“Detective Whitethorn, I am a best selling author and yet I can count on my fingers the amount of people who even know that Gone Death exists.” She smiled when he rolled his eyes. “It’s ok, I always thought it was a terribly underrated book. Only hardcore groupies ever read that one, though.”

He cleared his throat. “Do you enjoy constantly praising yourself, ma’am?”

“Oh, you have no idea, sir.”

He snorted, crossing his arms. “Does any of these groupies ever write you fan mail?” She just stared at him blankly. “Disturbing ones.”

Aelin shuddered, and this time it wasn’t for show. “Oh, try being a murder mystery writer. Every fan mail I receive is disturbing. It’s an occupational hazard.”

“It’s because sometimes, in cases like this, we find that—“

“The killer attempts to contact the image of his obsession, yes.” Aelin completed his sentence, earning a questioning look back.

She looked back at him, and curiosity beyond this case sparkled inside of her. She could feel an idea brewing, and the more he talked, the more interesting he got.

“I write murders for a living. I’m well versed in psychopathic methodologies and the process of murder. Another occupational hazard, I guess.” She inclined herself forward. “And has anyone ever said you have pretty eyes?”

He stared at her, mouth open as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. He finally rolled his eyes, pulling the pictures back to him. “And so I assume you won’t have any problems with us going over you mail, Ms. Galathynius.”

“Be my guest. I have thrown some out, however.” When he looked at her, she just shrugged. “My son lives in that house, detective. And as much as I’m not a strict mom in the slightest, there are things I will not allow my son to be near. Middle aged man sending naked pictures and blood vials is one example.”

He nodded, getting up. Aelin looked up at him, jerking her chin in the direction of the manila folders.

“Can I get a copy of that?”

“A copy?” He asked dumbfounded.

“Yeah. I have poker night with other best selling authors and you have no idea how jealous this would make them.”

He hesitated for a moment before slowly asking. “Jealous?”

“In my world, detective, having a copycat is like wining the fucking Nobel.” She said, half surprised at the complete incredulity on his face. “So?”

He threw the folders at the table, placing his hands down and bringing his face inches away from hers. “People are dying, Ms. Galathynius.”

“I’m not asking for the bodies.”

He rolled his eyes, drawing back. He took the folders from the table, walking to the door. “I think we’re done here.”

Aelin stared at his back, seeing him leave the room. Once he was out of sight, she took her phone out, looking through her contacts until she found the one.

“Good night, Rolfe.” She greeted the current mayor of Orynth. “You have a direct say in the OPD business, don’t you? Because as you know, The Guild just ended but…”

Aelin looked at the door once more, and even though he wasn’t there, she smiled.

“…but I think I just found my new inspiration for a new series.”

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @yesdreamblog @multifandommessblog @heirofthenightcourt

[httpsfelicity]

“In a black dress, she’s such an actress” - Harry Styles × Model Reader AU (Part 2/?)

Summary - Harry meets a model downtown and falls for her quickly, leading the public to think that it’s a pr stunt. Unsure of what to think, the reader plays along, not knowing that Harry is unaware of the rumours.

For @cruizmanadu, @stephaniemalvie!, @kissessfordraco Xx

A/N - Part two! Thank you sooo much for the feedback on part one, I never expected it! Glad you guys like it so far. If you haven’t read part one, click here x Once again, if you’d like a part 3 / have suggestions / ect, just send a DM or ask! Here you go babessss :) 

Harry Styles: Hi

Y/n <3: Hi

Harry Styles: Why are you awake, it’s 3am?

Y/n <3: I could ask you the same thing, you messaged me first!

Harry Styles: You’re right. What’s up?

Y/n <3: Watching TV, you?

Harry Styles: Not much. Listening to The Beatles, y’know, normal night things.

Y/n <3: Never really got around to listening to them personally

Harry Styles: Omg reported and BLOCKED.

Y/n <3: Omg noooooo come back 

Harry Styles: Kiddinggggggg, but I have to make you listen to one of their albums sometime

Harry Styles: Are you free tomorrow?

Y/n <3: I have a shoot all day. I’m free the next day tho

Harry Styles: We could maybe do something then? The park?

Harry Styles: Unless you have a better idea, of course

Y/n <3: No that sounds great! What time?

Harry Styles: 7?

Y/n <3: Sure! :)

Harry Styles: Now, GO TO SLEEP!

Y/n <3: Only if you do!

Harry Styles: Okayyyy, goodnight!

Y/n <3: Goodnight!

Seen: 3:14am

As you crawled into bed, a feeling of satisfaction spread through you. He wanted to spend more time with you - that ought to be a good sign, right? “Maybe this could work out, after all,” was the last thing you thought before you fell asleep.

The next day was the usual whirlwind of events that occurred every shoot day - wake up early, take a cab over to the location (That particular day’s mystery place happened to be an old art studio), take another cab with some assigned lady to get you ready, another cab back to the location, then a whole day of photos. It was all a blur to you, so when the head of the whole operation thanked you at the end of the day, you were glad it was all over. Of course you adored your job, but considering the amount of sleep you’d gotten last night (Which, by the way, you did not regret one bit) you were thankful that in 45 minutes you’d be fast asleep.

What you did not expect, however, was for that little power nap to turn into a full 14 hours. By the time you woke up the next day, it was the crack of 11am. You sat up frantically, taking in your surroundings. You were still wearing your street clothes - jeans and a blouse - and a quick glance in the mirror revealed you hadn’t taken off your extravagant makeup, either. Trust me, it was not a pretty sight. You scrambled for your phone, and aside from all of the usual twitter notifications, DM requests, and messages from Ella and Harry (Which you were over the moon about), you noticed that you had 4 missed calls. From, none other than Harry.

You quickly clicked on his contact and dialed up his number. After a few rings, he picked up.

“Hi!” He said cheerfully.

“Hey,” you laughed. “Why did you call me? Four times, to be exact?”

“Just wanted to make sure we were still on for tonight. But then I got worried when you didn’t answer, so I called again to make sure everything was alright.”

“And again, and again.”

“Correct,” he laughed.

“Rough photoshoot. I was exhausted, and it wasn’t all that exciting. By the time I got home, I was asleep. Literally. I slept for 14 hours straight.”

Harry laughed so hard on the other end that you had to move your phone away from your ear for a couple of seconds so he could calm down. “Oh, wow, I... well, I guess it’s not that funny. That’s awful. You should’ve gotten more sleep the night before!”

“I would’ve, but somebody just had to message me at 3am!”

Cue another round of laughter. “Oh my god... look, I’m sorry, I really am! I didn’t know you had to wake up so early. I won’t message you so late into the night anymore, I promise.”

“Don’t promise that! I quite liked it. Besides, all of those shoots are the same. Nothing worth remembering, if you ask me.”

“Alright, alright, fine. But are we still on for later? If you’re still tired, we can reschedule...”

“No! After twice the amount of sleep I usually get, I feel like I could run a marathon. Seven?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. Gives me enough time to adjust myself to reality.”

This sent both of them into bouts of laughter.

“Alright, well, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you then?”

“You’ve got it! Bye!”

“Bye! And for the love of god try not to fall asleep this time, yeah?” He cracked himself up.

“I’ll try!” You replied as you hung up. You sighed, smiled, and then leaned against your headboard, though not for long. You had things to do - number one, get a shower.

Flash forward a few hours, and you were all set. You were wearing a pair of jeans and a blouse, similar to yesterday’s outfits, just with less smeared makeup and bedhead. You had even managed to listen to a few albums while you were doing your hair. You quickly ate a salad for supper, confirmed the meeting spot with Harry, then headed out the door.

You arrived 10 minutes early, and to your surprise, Harry was already there again. 

“How did you get here before me?” You laughed as you walked up to him. “I left even earlier than last time, specifically to race you!”

“Oh, I have my ways,” he grinned. “So, would you like to know what I have planned?” 

“Enlighten me,” you prompted as you began walking past the bushes and flowerbeds with him, admiring his bold, light purple flared pants and white top.

“Well, first we walk through the park. Then, I have a reservation booked for La Sedbe Hyudge. If that sounds okay to you, that is.”

La Sedbe Hyudge was one of the most exclusive clubs in New York. Reservations were crazy expensive, and that’s not including the price of the food and drinks.

“Oh, Harry, you really didn’t ha-”

“No, no, don’t worry about it. The reservation’s already made; there’s no turning back now,” he laughed.

You laughed along with him. “Well, we can just split the final bill.”

“No,”

“But-”

“Don’t worry about it!” 

You sighed. “Okay,” you finally agreed. “Well, anyways, tonight sounds like it will be great fun. Thank you.”

Harry nodded, looking around. You had to admit it, the scenery of the park was very nice. The gardener(s) here must be paid awfully well.

“So, I listened to Fine Line.”

Harry perked up. “Oh?”

“It was - and I’m not just saying this because I li- we’re friends - but it was incredible. I’ve never heard anything like it.”

Harry was trying to hide his smile, but he was failing miserably. “Well, that’s good,” he concluded nonchalantly. 

“No, really! I have Golden stuck in my head. It’s beautiful. And don’t even get me started on Lights Up.”

“You didn’t see the music video, did you?”

“..Yeah?”

“Oh, wow.”

“It was ARTSY!” You laughed, Harry clearly getting embarrassed. “No, in all honestly, it was great.”

“Well, I’m glad you think that,” he smiled. “I wish I could say the same to you, but you don’t sing, obviously.”

“Not my forte, honestly. I was in choir in elementary, but that’s pretty much it. Never really had any interest in the preforming arts. No offense.”

“None taken. I’ve always liked singing, but I didn’t think I’d pursue it as a career. I was very happy at my old job, thank you very much.”

“What was your old job?”

“...”

“...”

“I used to work in a bakery.”

“No way!” “That’s adorable,” you thought as the two of you rounded a corner of the path.

“Yes way! Not to brag, but I was very good at making cinnamon rolls.”

“Now, isn’t that something.”

“That’s not all - macaroons.”

“Oh my god, marry me.”

You continued goofing off for the rest of the walk. You talked about Netflix shows and whether Summer or Winter was the superior season in the taxi, and the best way to make Kraft dinner on the sidewalk. By the time you walked into the restaurant and sat down, you were discussing the importance of a good facemask.

“I don’t know. I just can’t believe you do them.”

“I can’t believe you don’t.”

“Why should I?”

“Do you want me to go over the health benefits again?”

You sighed. “No. I just do not have the patience.”

“For me to explain it again or facemasks in general?”

You smiled. “Both.”

Harry laughed rather loudly, gaining a few odd looks from some stuck-up diners. “You’re lucky you’re cute, y/n.”

Before you could respond, a waiter walked over to your table. “And what could I get for the couple this evening?” He asked.

You and Harry looked at eachother and tried to supress laughter.

“Well, I don’t know about my husband here,” you start, looking over at Harry with a grin. He’s staring back at you and you are positive that he’s gonna blow it at any second, but you decide to keep going, “But I’ll have a glass of red wine.”

“Whatever you want, dear, so I guess I’m driving,” Harry shrugged. “I will have water, please.”

The waiter nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

 As soon as he was out of earshot, the two of you burst out laughing.

“That.. was.... amazing!” Said Harry between laughs.

“I know right!” You agreed. “We have to keep it going all night.”

“YES,” he nodded as a group of teenage girls walked past the table, also laughing uncontrollably.

Then, the waiter returned. “For the lady,” he said as he placed down a glass of  wine. You immediately picked it up and took a sip. 

“For the main course, I’ll have the steak, please,” said Harry in his very-best fancy voice.

“I too,” you said, giggling and taking another sip.

The waiter nodded and headed back to the kitchen. The two of you laughed again. 

Just then, you felt your phone buzz in your purse. “It’s probably nothing,” you thought, choosing to ignore it. But then it went off again. And again. And again.

“You should probably get that,” said Harry, looking at your bag.

“Nah, it’s probably nothing.”

“Alright. I gotta run to he bathroom, and then I’m gonna order a drink for myself, okay?”

“Okay,” you said as you watched him get up. “Bring me back a glass too!”

You watched him walk over to the mens room. Your phone buzzed. He pushed open the door. Your phone buzzed. The door shut behind him. You reached down and pulled out your phone.

Ella: Oh my god

Ella: Y/n

Ella: Where are you right now

Ella: Are you with anybody?

Ella: ?????

Ella: Y/N

Ella: CHECK UR PHONE

You quickly typed up a response, although you were confused as to why she was so worried all of a sudden.

Y/n: I’m at the Sedbe Hyudge with Harry, why?

Ella: *Sent a set of photos*

Ella: Check twitter for more.

You clicked on the photos. The first was a screenshot of an update account, saying that you and Harry were in the park. Then, another tweet from the same account, saying you were at this restaurant. Then, photos of you in the park. And then, photos of you at the restaurant. Under that were screenshots of twitter users.

@Cocopopstyles: I just want Harry to take me on a date like he does with y/n, is that TOO MUCH TO ASK. They’re TOO CUTE.

@Y/nxxxxstyles: ANOTHER WIN FOR THE SHIPPERS THEY’RE AT THE SEDBE HYUDGE DHHHVDHBDCHUDB YES

@HSDaily: Ew lmfao she’s so ugly PLS 

@Stylessssmaple: “I ain’t saying she’s a golddigger, but she ain’t messing with no broke....”

@LaylaHoran: I heard that they were talking to the waiter like they’re an actual couple. A few girls overheard it, idk their @’s tho.

@LarryStylinsonobvs replying to @LaylaHoran: Really?? Omg that’s pretty quick tbh. Weren’t they first seen together days ago?

@LaylaHoran replying to @LarryStylisonobvs: Yeah apparently. Idk what’s going on. Is she a PR stunt or not???

@LarryStylinsonobvs replying to @LaylaHoran: Not to be a bluegreener but she could be a beard... we’ve gotten so much content from them in the past 72 hours like.... are u gonna tell me there’s no contract in there at all?????

@Y/nsflowers: Y/n looks so good in the new pap photos pLEASE MARRY ME MA’AM.

@Y/L/Nsummertime: Y/n is over lmfao can she please cut the bullshit. Wbk she’s in it for the money. The job, the PR stunts, the boyfriend...

@TheDailyPoolsideNews: Model y/n and ex-boyband star spotted out in the town! Will this be the next Hollywood snoozefest?

There was more, but Harry was already back at the table, carrying two glasses and setting them down, smiling. All of a sudden, you had this really sick feeling. You couldn’t look him in the eyes. You took your drink as he sat down. Not wanting to say anything in case it ruined the night, you took a sip and put your phone back in your purse.

“Everything alright?”

You looked up. “Yeah.”

Harry stared at you. You stared back jokingly, trying to break the tension. Harry’s phone started ringing. “Oops,” he frowned, “thought I turned this off...”

“You can take it, it’s okay. I checked my phone before. Plus, I need to use the washroom.”

“Okay,” he smiled as you stood up, smiling back. As you were walking away, you heard him talking to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Hey, Nial- what? No, I am, why-”

You pushed into the womens room and locked yourself in a stall. “What the hell is going on?”

You sit there for a few minutes, trying to collect your thoughts and give Harry some time to finish his conversation. Someone had seen the two of you at the park and in the restaurant, so what? Some people liked you, and some people didn’t. Okay, that’s understandable. Some people hated you. That’s fine, you don’t care. But people still think you and Harry are a PR stunt. This is only your second date! And it’s not eve a date! It’s just a... you put your head in your hands, then sit up, not wanting to smudge your mascara. You reach for your phone, only to remember you left it in your purse, which was currently on the floor next to your chair next to Harry. God.

And, to make matters worse, he had gotten a phonecall and from what you had heard when you were walking away, he sounded worried. Perfect! That was probably his management. Or, better yet, one of his friends doing the same thing Ella had done to you. Suddenly, you jumped up and walked back out to the table. He was fiddling around with his napkin. When he saw you, his face lit up. You didn’t buy it.

“Hi, sorry, it was just one of my friends. He wanted to t-”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you said, politely cutting him off.

Harry was taken back by this, but not for long. He wasn’t fazed easily. “Oh, okay. That’s good. Sorry for taking so long. Oh, and I don’t want this anymore, so if you want it, you can fill yours up. Otherwise, I’m just gonna give it to the waiter when he comes back.”

You never drank too much. You knew three glasses would be awful for you. But you took his and filled yours up, because “I don’t want to waste anything. This place is so expensive.”

Soon after, the waiter dropped off your meals. Harry was speaking less, more unsure of himself than before, but you didn’t notice. You made polite small talk, but it wasn’t like your antics from before. Yet when you were leaving, you did not split the bill. Harry still paid.

When you walked outside, it was dark. You hadn’t expected it. You laughed. Harry laughed. “Let’s wait over here for a taxi, yeah?”

You nodded and followed him. You sat on a bench. Harry messaged somebody. You swung your feet a little. Harry took a call. You stayed seated, watching people walk by. Harry came back over and helped you walk to the taxi, arm around your back. You tried to tell him you didn’t need his help, but he didn’t listen. 

Harry gave the taxi driver his address. You gave him yours, but he didn’t listen. You spoke up again, but Harry told you not to worry; you could spend the night with him. You nodded.

Harry helped you out of the taxi. You didn’t fight back. You tried to pay for the taxi, but he wouldn’t take your money. You held his hand as you walked through the doors of his apartment building, got in the elevator, got to his apartment. He sat you down on the couch and went off to his room. He came back shortly after.

“I don’t have any pyjamas for you.”

“Why would I need pyjamas?” You laughed a little, and then a lot.

Harry smiled. He went back to his room and came back with a shirt still wrapped in plastic and a bag.

“Here. The bathroom is over there. There’s makeup wipes on the counter.” He helped you up and you walked over. 

“Why do you have makeup wipes? Do you wear makeup?”

“Yep!” Said Harry. “Just turn the lock to the left. It’s tricky sometimes, try it a few times if it doesn’t work, yeah?”

“That’s so cool, can you show me your makeup sometime?”

“Yep! Maybe after you get your pyjamas on.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm!”

You shut the door and turned the lock, though you doubted you’d need it. You took off your fancy clothes and put on a pair of brand new too-big black sweatpants and a too-big pink t-shirt. Why did you need pyjamas again? Harry hadn’t answered. He wasn’t sending you home in pyjamas, was he? Uh oh.

You walked out. Harry was in the kitchen. “Do you need anything?”

“A drink.”

“Water?”

“Wine, dummy.” You cracked up at this.

“You’ve already had more than enough. C’mon, let’s go to the living room.” He grinned. 

“Whyyyyyy?”

Harry smiled patiently. “C’mon, y/n. We can watch a movie or something.”

“Okay. Wait - can I just have orange juice instead?”

“Of course.” He grabbed a can of juice and then walked into the living room. You followed. There were pillows and blankets on the couch, and Disney+ was set up.

“Ooou, fancy,” you laughed.

Harry crawled under the blankets. You did too. He laughed. So did you. Why were you even upset with him in the first place? You couldn’t remember. Harry grabbed the remote and turned on some show you’ve never heard of before. The Mandalorian, whatever that was. You leaned your head on Harry’s shoulder. It wasn’t even boring - why were you falling asleep? 

Harry closed his eyes - he was tired, too, but for different reasons. You listened to his breathing get slower. You held him tightly. You held him back. 

“Friends don’t hold friends that way,” you thought to yourself. “But who cares?”

You fell asleep. So did he.

You forgot about the stunt rumours. So did he.

He forgot about how his friend called him in a panic, not wanting this relationship to get ruined for him like the last one, and the one before that, and the one before that. About how he really, really liked you, but couldn’t act on it. He wanted to give you the world. Yes, he fell too quickly, too easily, but who could blame him?

And you forgot about Ella in the same panic. She didn’t want this to get ruined for you, of course, because this was your first shot, your first love (Although not that she’d know - you had to admit you had been a bit distant with her since you met Harry.) She didn’t want you to fall into the hands of the public eye. She wanted to make sure you were safe. She wasn’t sure if you should trust Harry, so of course she should be worried.

But you trusted him.

And he trusted you.

And everything is okay.

Until 3am.

A/N PT 2 - While you’re waiting for part 3 (which is definitely coming btw!) check out my other fics through this masterlist HERE!

[lesbianlovelanguage]

YOUTUBER AU I’m such a fucking sucker for those. It can be anything you want really. Maybe they are friends doing a challenge or something and they end up kissing (or more ;)) or they could meet each other at like a creator even and take a pic together and everyone starts to ship them... :)

HI! Anon I am so sorry, life has been *general handwaving* a MESS. But, I’ve finally gotten most of my shit together and look! A fic! Finally!!! I hope you enjoy two ridiculous boys being ridiculous.

---

“You guys asked for it, and here it is. The explanation to Bendy and the Ink Machine! Now, I’ve watched a ton of playthroughs of this, especially The RatKing’s, as well as played through it myself, and I think I’ve got it.” 

Such a simple statement, it made it through both of the editors as well as Steve and Dustin themselves without raising any red flags. But as with everything, once it had been released on the internet it became fuel for fans to break apart and over analyze. 

The comments started pouring in, the standard mix of support and people trying to break apart his theory. But one comment in particular would stand out and begin something so much bigger than itself. 

Twenty minutes after Steve had pressed upload, someone with the username Random Hoe posted a comment saying Awe! A collab between you and Billy would be totes amazing!! While an innocent comment in itself, it began to pick up steam as people ranted and demanded for the two popular youtubers to interact more. It turned from video ideas to outright shipping within two hours, and only five hours after the video had been up, people began tagging Steve on Twitter with everything from edited screen grabs to fanart and video edits, all about Steve and Billy’s secret yet undying love for each other. 

Steve had almost quit Youtube as the fanbase for what had been dubbed “Stilly” steadily grew and became all the more ravenous. There were less and less comments and reactions to his theories, whether movie, video game, or even book related, and more and more comments about how he needed to do a collab with Billy ASAP, and how he’s queerbaiting, and how it’s okay to come out, it was 20Gayteen after all. He had tried to do damage control, but it only made things worse. 

And then someone showed Billy, and Steve not only wanted to quit Youtube, but also crawl under a rock. 

Billy’s only reaction to someone sending him a picture of Steve and Billy during a live stream was “Nice art, like the hair,” but Steve could have sworn his mouth twitched down in a grimace before Billy recovered his composure. 

But Dustin had convinced Steve to keep going, and with two months of no recognition or new content, the frenzy of Stilly shipping died down. It never disappeared, but no one sent anymore art to Billy and stopped tagging Steve in all of their posts. That had been in February. 

Vidcon was in June, and Stilly was the least of Steve’s worries. He’d been asked to host a panel on the new game show he and Dustin had begun hosting on Youtube TV about pop culture trivia, and then host a live episode with various Youtube guests as competitors. It promised to be relatively simple, a simple explanation of the origin and behind-the-scenes and a simple Q&A session followed by what he spent every Thursday doing for the past two months. And it was, him and Dustin breezing through the panel bouncing off of each other and the first round of Did You Know? You Don’t Say? flying by as the famed beauty guru aced almost every question. But once the second guest stepped on stage, Steve knew it was all going to go to shit. 

Because Billy Hargrove, The Rat King himself, swaggered out on the stage in flip flops and an Everlast crop top and flopped into the contestant’s chair with a smirk. Steve froze, mouth suddenly drier than a desert. 

Luckily, Dustin didn’t even stutter. “Ah! The next victim. Should we go easy on him?” He waggled his eyebrows as he asked the audience. The audience shouting brought Steve out of his daze, and with a shake of his head, he turned and spread his arms out wide. 

“Well then, let’s begin. So, Billy, Do you know what the rarest MnM color is?” 

The cocky smirk melted off of Billy’s face, replaced by one of thoughtful determination. He’s silent for only a moment before he looks up and says, “Brown, like your eyes, Pretty Boy.” Steve feels his pale skin flush with heat, but he coughs and tries to play it off.

“Quite the charmer there, Rat King. Luckily, your lines are actually true. One point! Let’s see it!” He calls out and then looks behind him to the television screen currently displaying the scoreboard. A large blocky 1 appears and the audience cheers. 

“Alrighty then,” Dustin says after the crowd dies down. “Next question. Billy, Do you know the original name of Istanbul?” Billy chuckles, and shakes his head.

“Easy. Constantinople.”

Dustin fake pouts and looks over to Billy. “None of that Rat King charm for me?” The audience laughs, and Billy chuckles before throwing a wink at Dustin.

“Not quite old enough to ride this ride, bud.” 

Dustin scoffs and shakes his head, making the curls bounce around wildly. “Whatever you say, old man. You did get it right by the way. Let me see another point!” Dustin mimics Steve and gestures towards the scoreboard which now shows a big, white 2. 

“Your turn, Pretty Boy. Give me something hard.”

“Alright. Let’s see.” Steve pretends to look over his notes before seeing the perfect question. “So, Billy, Do you know which two American states don’t observe daylight savings time?” Billy stares blankly at Steve. This was the final question in their lineup, but he had asked for a hard question. 

Luckily, Billy recovers quickly and clears his throat before giving another chuckle. “Damn, I know I said give me a hard one, but I wasn’t expecting that. I’m gonna go with Hawaii and Alaska?” Steve shakes his head and gives a small sigh. 

Dustin gives a little cheer, and then runs over to a table off to the side of the stage where they have a cue card that the contestant has to read off of if they lose. It was Dustin’s idea, the You don’t say? part of the title. It’s his favorite part of the show, because they get to see their contestants say some ridiculous things.

“Well, unfortunately, that was incorrect,” Steve announces over the booing audience. “And, following the rules, you now have to read whatever is on this card.” Dustin hands Billy the cue card with a wicked grin. 

Billy sighs and flips over the card. There’s a moment of silence as he reads over what the card says, and then he looks up at Steve and clears his throat.

“Would a Pretty Boy want to go out with me?” He says in a clear voice, gaze never leaving Steve’s. 

Suddenly too many things for Steve to process happen at once. He feels the heat return to his cheeks and his mouth dry out again, the audience goes wild, and a buzzer sounds, signaling that they were out of time for Did You Know? You Don’t Say? Dustin comes through and pushes a frozen Steve off-stage, where Billy is waiting in the wings. With the audience’s weighty gaze gone, the feeling returns to Steve all at once.

“What the hell man? What was that out there?” He hissed at Billy. The man simply shrugs and gives another one of his trademark smirks.

“Just giving the people what they want, Princess. Try to keep up.” And then he turns around, and walks away. Simple as that. Nothing to it. 

Steve wants to scream. Fortunately, he and Dustin have been friends for years, and he knows all of Steve’s tics by now. The stagehands shoo them from the wings, and he pulls Steve through one of the backdoors to outside the convention center. Somehow, he also procures a water bottle in the hustle, and hands it to Steve once they’re both sitting on the steps outside. Steve takes the water bottle gratefully and chugs half of it in one long gulp. He pulls it away and wipes at his face before sighing. He seems to deflate, like a balloon losing all of its helium at once, and Dustin puts an arm around him. It’s awkward because he’s shorter than Steve, but it’s still comforting nonetheless. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dustin asks quietly.

“I- I’m so stupid. For just a second I thought it was real, but why would it be? What would someone like him see in someone like me?” Dustin lets out a huff before pulling away and turning towards Steve.

“Steve, buddy, pal o’ mine. You’re an idiot. If anything, he doesn’t deserve you. He’s a pompous ass for pulling a stunt like that. It’s bullshit.” 

“He could have anyone. Between his paycheck and his pecs, he’s one of Youtube’s hottest content creators.”

“Yeah, sure. But for the sake of alliteration, he also lacks personality. The guy’s a huge dick! And he proved it today. He knew that you wouldn’t shut him down and bitch him out on stage, so he thought it would be funny to pull that shit.”

“Yeah, he is kind of just a publicity-seeking asshole, you’re right,” Steve admits, feeling a little better, and a lot angrier. “You know what, Dusty-Poo? I’m gonna find him, and give him a piece of my mind.” He stands up, itching for a fight and knowing who to go find for one.

“Tha-that’s not exactly what I meant but sure! Go knock him down a peg.” Dustin stands up as well and follows Steve back onto the main showfloor. 

It takes about twenty minutes to find Billy amongst the crowd but Steve sees him, and locks in like a tiger stalking his prey. Or something cool like that. Thankfully, Steve doesn’t have to make a huge scene as he walks up to Billy and gets in his face. 

“You. Me. Conference Room 3. Now,” Steve says, poking a finger in the middle of Billy’s chest to emphasize his point. Billy chuckles, but still follows along as they walk into the empty conference room. Once they clear the doors and Steve hears them swing shut behind them, he turns to Billy.

“Explain. What the fuck was the point of that little,” he wavs his hand around, “stunt you pulled during the game show?” 

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Told you Pretty Boy. I gave the people what they wanted. 

“So that’s it? It was a publicity stunt?” 

“You tell me. You’re the one who started the whole thing,” Billy shoots back, still holding on to an air of nonchalance, but Steve can his patience waning.

“You- you mean the stuff from February? When I happened to mention you in one video? You think I meant for that shitstorm to start, for fun and publicity?” 

Billy only shrugs again.

“Okay. Nope. Again, I mentioned your channel one time, as a source. Gave credit where credit was due. I do it for all the channels I watch! I’ve mentioned Nancy’s channel like 8 times, and Jonathan’s too. Never had this shit started with them.”

“They’re married, Steve. Like super married. Of course it wouldn’t. We’re both single, queer youtubers. Of course shit’s gonna stop. Didn’t your agent or whoever look over your video?”

Steve huffs. “Oh yeah, let me just go hire an agent, cause I have such a need for someone to monitor my every move,” Steve snarked. Billy just looked at him like he had failed to add 2 and 3.

“You’re telling me you, part of one of the biggest channels on Youtube, don’t have an agent?” 

“We’re not one of the biggest channels, and we’ve never needed one! We’ve got our team of editors and assistants, no need for some agent.”

“Steve,” Billy says patiently, like he was explaining something to a child, “You have over 4 million subscribers. That’s a big channel.” 

“We’re still not one of the biggest channels, dipshit.”

“Oh, I'm the dipshit? I didn’t start a fucking fandom frenzy apparently by accident. Because I was smart and got a fucking agent.”

“You’re such an asshole.” 

“Whatever you say Princess.”

“Stop fucking calling me a princess!” Steve screams, voice booming in the silent conference room. “Why do you do that? Pretty Boy, Princess, Stevie? Just- just stop with the fucking nicknames. It’s not fair.” The second part of his outburst comes out as a whisper, sounding almost desperate. 

Billy was at a loss for words, but then again, he had always been more of a man of action. 

So he says nothing, only gives a seconds’ thought of what he was going to do, before lunging forward and doing it. 

Steve’s next words are muffled as Billy crashes their lips together with absolutely no finesse, teeth clacking. It probably constituted as the worst kiss Billy has ever had, but as he moves back, Steve grabs a fist full of blond locks and pulls him forward. Their 

second kiss is far better. By no means is it soft, but that was just par for the course with them wasn’t it? 

The kiss comes to a natural ending as they both pull back to breath, before Steve starts to giggle. 

“You really need to work on your pick-up lines, Rat King.”

A soft gasp from the doorway cuts off Billy’s retort, and they both turn to see a girl decked out in Youtube merch, including a jacket with the Upside Down Theories logo on it. She had dropped her backpack, and was open-mouthed gaping at the two. Her eyes are as wide as dinner plates as she frantically gathers up her backpack and shoots out of the conference room. 

“Chances that this blows up online by tomorrow?” Steve asks, turning to the blond next to him. 

“I’m betting in the next two hours, Pretty Boy,” Billy replies.

A wicked smirk creeps onto Steve’s lips as he shrugs and says, “Oops. What was that about getting an agent to help with this stuff?” 

---

Aside from this taking FOREVER, I hope you guys enjoy this! It was tons of fun to write.

tag team: @lostnoise @gideongrace @stevefuckingharrington @a-magey @catharrington @trashycatarcade @myboyfriendsteve @thesummerof84 @lightsupinthenorth @smashmouth-hargrove (lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the list!)

[inukagnation]

This is going to be long, but I need to take this out of my chest.

So, what are we doing about Moroha ? I see many people complaining here, on facebook and even on YouTube. What are we doing to let them know we are not happy with how she’s being treated despite being one of the protagonists ? Do you praise her on Hanyo no YashaHime’s official twitter ? Do you hype her up there ? They SEE it, you know ? They NEED the audience‘s opinions and thats why they ask us to tweet. Im there, every Saturday praising Moroha and telling how much I wished to see more of her. YES, I’m aware they WONT CHANGE the plot, but at least they’ll be aware and MAYBE, just MAYBE, if they decide to make this spin off into a series, they’ll be more aware of what they were missing. Moroha might not be the main one, she’s obviously not the narrator but her and her parents are still involved in the story and her past is connected with the twins and their father. Do you really think it’s ok to only use Moroha when it’s convenient and take her out whenever the other two need their spotlight ? Being left behind by the two of them, having to clean huts for money. We have the first quarter demon, with demonic and spiritual powers. She’s literally a new breed and FOR WHAT ? What are her powers for ? What is she doing there besides running around and being funny ? These girls are NOT friends, they DO NOT work together. I see no connection. It’s like the twins and Moroha are on completely different teams. And they have made that clear when they decided to make the story about the TWINS and not the THREE of them as they’ve promised before it all started. Can y’all see the bullshit ? Besides not being the main protagonist in a spin off about Inuyasha, you know, her father AND the MC of a 20 year old manga named after him, Moroha’s clearly being used as a bait.

First of all, I’m aware of the plot. No need to remind me that YashaHime is about the twins. However, why did they have to use Moroha and her parents to their little SessRin spin off if Moroha is NOT playing her role as a protagonist and actually being downgraded as the twins mascot AND Cinderella ? You know why I’m upset ? Because we had a perfect ending for InuKag in the Final Act. Sesshomaru’s love story could still be developed so I would TOTALLY understand if they have decided to make this spin off about him and his family. Actually, they have stated in a interview that Moroha WASNT going to be a part of the protagonists so the way they’re treating her in this series makes TOTAL sense if you think about it. They just decided to use her because Im sure they haven’t felt confident enough to make a sequel about Sesshomaru without using Inuyasha and the others as a bait. Personally, I think it’s totally disrespectful to the fans. We literally have to watch InuKags kid saying she grew up alone and having to do bounty jobs to survive. How fucked up is that ? As if we haven’t watched how Inuyasha suffered from growing up alone enough, now we have to watch his kid going through the same... Honestly, how fucked up is that ? If Moroha was actually more active and if she played the role they’ve promised in the begging, I wouldn’t complain. But she’s just... there. To me, it’s totally disrespectful to the fans.

What I’m trying to say here is, if YOU are not happy with how things are going, as a viewer you have ALL the right to point out what you don’t think is fair. As long as you’re streaming legally, you’re giving them money and audience. They’re measuring things now, they’re analyzing the public opinions because they depend on us to make another season work. And don’t think they don’t care about westerns opinions... if you have watched Sumisawa’s VIZ exclusive interview, he literally said he got the inspiration to write YashaHime after he visited America. Also, the fact he gave a western anime company an EXCLUSIVE interview speaks WONDERS. They do CARE about our opinions. They NEED us to watch it. So, even if Moroha isn’t going to play a big role whenever they post something, praise her. Show them you really care. Man, ever the director Teruo Satou (@teruousatou) got silent after people started to complain about this matter to him. He used to like tweets and interact with fans all the time, he doesn’t do that anymore now. Last week was the last time he tweeted something (without mentioning anyone or liking any tweets) and he LITERALLY had to tweet that we will know about Moroha’s past soon, so, they ARE AWARE of our discontent with some aspects. If it was only one or two people complaining about it, itd be ok, but there’s A LOT of people complaining more, week after week. So I’m sure I’m not the only one. Even non Moroha stans and random viewers are saying that. So, this is what I’m begging you to do if you can. Tweet the heck out of HNY’s (@hanyo_yashahime) account, say that you love Moroha even if the episode does not focus on her, even if she has a 5 second scene... just praise our little sunshine. Please. Oh, if you’re liking it so far and do not agree with me, its ok, this post is for the ones who also agree with me and think that Moroha should deserve better. If they don’t know how to make 3 protagonists work without being unfair to one or other, I think they shouldn’t have tried.

[mcwriting]

Starstruck (7)

I’m back again and so quickly! Ha! I’m getting soooo close to finishing this but now I’m distracted writing my other series lol. 

While writing this I thought a lot about how much Tom actually curses vs. how little I put in andddd it’s pretty disproportional. I mostly just don’t speak like that so it carries over into my writing, but whatever. I’ll stick with it.

Anyways pls enjoy

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Fandom: Tom Holland

Ship: Tom x reader

Setting: Mostly LA, a little bit of South Korea in this one, but it doesn’t really talk about it

Word Count: 2146

Warnings: Mild language as per usual

Rating: K+

                            __________________________________

You tore apart your room looking for your favorite swimsuit, an olive green bikini top that accentuated your chest and a pair of black high cut bottoms that lengthened your legs nicely. 

It had been a few days since you went and stayed with b/f/n and she now wanted to go to the beach with you. You hadn’t gone out much since due to the paparazzi, who still hung around your house sometimes.

The suit was nowhere to be found, every drawer and cabinet searched high and low. 

And then you spotted something in the corner of your eye.

A beach bag slumped over the chair by your desk.

Could it be? 

No

Unless…?

You stepped carefully towards it, dreading opening up the bag and the subsequent memories attached to it. The hurt of what Tom did was still fresh, but better than before.

Neither of you had had contact since his final message to you, which was something you weren’t sure if you were happy, sad, or mad about. 

You’d thought about what Caroline had said in the past few nights, losing sleep over her words.

There’s no way I’ve caught feelings for the guy, right?

I mean, sure. He’s handsome, nice accent, great muscles, smells good, dancer, good sense of humor. The list could go on, I guess. 

Oh wait. Shit. 

Those thoughts flooded your mind as you dumped the contents of the bag onto the carpet, something landing with a heavy thud underneath the swimsuit you’d been searching for.

You peeled away the clothes and things to find a yellow glass bottle, Tom’s stupid unopened cologne now rested on the floor of your room. You stared at it for a few seconds, not knowing what to think.

You’d pretty much forgotten about it since the incident, pushed far from every other thought you’d had since that day.

A buzz suddenly sounded from your phone on the bed, revealing a text from b/f/n saying she was on her way. 

Not wanting to run late, you sat the bottle on the desk and ran to the bathroom to change before she arrived.

                             __________________________________

Photographers followed you and b/f/n at the beach, probably wanting to write a gossip piece about how you were “moving on.” Neither of you cared.

Instead, you both actively posed for the cameras for a little bit, laughing at the men’s persistence. Eventually, however, another of many celebrities in the area caught their eyes and they left, giving you much needed peace.

After a couple hours spent swimming, taking selfies, and tanning, the two of you gathered your things and headed for lunch at a nearby cafe. 

As you sat and ate under an umbrella, you found an article that had already been written containing photos from the beach earlier. It was titled “Moving on? Y/l/n spotted in spicy bikini with pal,” something that made you roll your eyes. 

“Wouldn’t it be funny if we reposted some of these pictures?” you joked to b/f/n. 

“Yes oh my gosh! That would be hilarious! Send me the article,” she agreed. 

You both screenshotted some pictures, picking your favorite to be the cover of your next Instagram post and intermixing some of the day’s selfies, too. Each of you hit post, tagging one another, and went back to your food.

                             __________________________________

The day had been long but perfect. 

B/f/n dropped you at your house late that afternoon, both of you tired from sitting in the sun most of the day. Since then, you’d spent the evening with your family and now prepared for bed.

You hadn’t checked your phone much since posting the photos, but you opened instagram to find that tons of Tom’s fangirls had liked and commented on your picture, most of them pretty supportive. 

Your caption had read “Apparently this is a spicy swimsuit and somehow it’s helping me move on from drama. Either way, today was a much needed beach day with my fav!” 

Other of your friends commented inside jokes, adding fire and pepper emojis, and called you spicy.

You spent a few minutes replying to comments when you decided to look at the likes. You searched “Holland” in the bar, wanting to see how many fans were liking it, but the first name caused your stomach to drop. 

Tomholland2013

There was a blue checkmark signifying it was him, too. 

There was no way he’d done it earlier, so you went back to the comments, where you found a new comment from only a minute before that read “OMG TOM LIKED!”

You were shocked to say the least. Was this some kind of a joke to him? Or was this his way of reaching out from a distance? Your thoughts became frequent and jumbled, and finally you decided to put up the phone and truly get ready for bed.

On the back of your desk chair was draped your favorite sleep shirt. As you went to grab it, the cologne bottle caught your eye once again.

You stared at it for a minute, then did something you’d probably regret later. 

You ripped off the plastic wrap off top and uncapped it. You took a heavy breath, and then spritzed the scent a few times over the sheets. 

It wafted up around you, filling your nose with the musky sweetness you were familiar with. 

After changing, you crawled into bed, the smell overcoming you, relaxing you. Surprisingly, butterflies filled your stomach as warm memories of yours and Tom’s night together came to mind once again. 

Ah shit. Caroline was right was the last thought to cross your mind as sleep overtook you.

                             __________________________________

Stan Twitter and Insta had blown up overnight as Tom’s fans speculated about him liking your post (and of course it just had to be one in a swimsuit). You tried not to think about it too much as you once again went to dance and tried to let off steam.

After class came and went, a parent came to let you know that once again there were dozens of people outside waiting for you with cameras and whatnot.

Your friends offered to help walk you to the car, but you were honestly angry. Enough was enough.

“I knew things would get crazy but this has gone on for too long. Celebrities might have to put up with this, but I don’t,” you spat, shouldering your dance bag and heading for the door. 

A few people tried to stop you but you just shrugged them off.

“Y/n, y/n!” the people began yelling, fighting to see who would get to your first. One woman beat out the rest and shoved a microphone in your face, the cameraman blocking your way.

“Tell us about your time with Tom Holland! We only want the truth!” she exclaimed with her feigned enthusiasm.

”You don’t want the truth, you want a story,” you began. Seeing the way people already looked uncomfortable with that statement, you continued.

“You take a good, normal person and turn him into your own little reality show. You build him up into a big celebrity just so you can tear him down in public.”

You were beginning to feel your face heat up and eyes threaten tears, but still you continued, looking out at the rest of the crowd.

“Just so you can sell magazines and TV shows? That’s really sick. And Tom Holland’s just one example. He’s talented and successful. He’s all the stuff lots of kids dream of having.”

Nothing you said had a hint of sarcasm or disdain, but rather it was a defendant tone. Now you took on an accusatory one directed at the reporters.

“But thanks to you, he’s had to give up some of the best things in life. Freedom. Privacy. Honesty. So congratulations, you’ve created a celebrity. But you have wrecked the human being inside. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

You finished the tirade, a tear slipping onto your cheek as you remembered the night he spent at your house telling you about how he often missed normal life. There was a heavy pause but cameras continued to flash. The reporter turned to her cameraman.

“Did you get that?” she asked. He nodded, so she turned back to you.

“Y/n, y/n just one more question. In your opinion, who is Tom Holland really?”

You looked at her, taken aback. Your blood boiled.

“Who is he? I don’t know. The Tom Holland you’re all so obsessed with…” you took a moment to collect your thoughts. “I promise you I never met him. And I wouldn’t want to.”

With that, you pushed through the crowd and to your car, hoping they were satisfied.

                             __________________________________

On the other side of the world, Tom was becoming stir crazy. By the time Tom had awoken, videos and transcripts of your speech were already circulating the internet and he was overwhelmed and frankly angry. 

He was supposed to be getting ready for another press day, but how could he do interviews when everyone would just want to hound on him about you?

“Tom, we need to talk,” Harrison said sternly as Tom paced his hotel living room. Harry and Sam stood behind him in the entryway..

“Alright what on?” he asked as though nothing was wrong.

“Tom. Tell us what’s got you acting like this, saying what you did, and her making that speech through tears. You obviously liked that girl and something happened with her,” Harry stated.

Tom paused and turned to the group.

“What are you talking about? There was nothing going on between us.”

They all looked at each other and then Tom like he was an idiot.

“Look mate, you have no reason to lie to us. We always have your back and we’ll probably understand,” Sam added. The group took a few steps forward.

Tom was becoming more agitated and avoided eye contact with all of them. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

“First off, I’m not lying. And secondly, if I were, you all wouldn’t understand anyways because you aren’t me! None of you get what it’s like living my life and you never will!” Tom exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

The group was taken aback at Tom’s explosive statement and now Harrison was mad too.

“You know what, man? We came here to talk because we care about you. You’ve been a real dick the past few days and it’s getting old. All we wanted to do was help you out but instead you decided to go all movie star on us,” Harrison blurted. He turned to the twins, “Let’s go guys. He’s obviously beyond us.”

The three boys turned to walk out the door and Tom felt a weight drop in his stomach. Harry was just starting to open the door when Tom stopped them.

“Wait!” he paused and took a deep breath, “I’ll tell you all what’s really going on, but you have to let me tell the whole story first.”

They reluctantly turned back, eventually making themselves comfortable around the living room and letting Tom vent out the whole story, including how his management had made him cut ties with you.

“She was so honest and kind and I blew it. The more distant from her I can make myself, the better. I couldn’t let myself bring you in on this secret and feel bad too. She deserves to just hate me.”

The boys were all shocked and angered at what was going on.

“Tom, I love you, you’re my brother. But you are such a div! And I mean that in the most extreme manner possible,” said Harry.

“Yeah, come on mate. Just fire them! Why are you letting them control your life?” asked Sam. 

“You guys don’t get it! Singleness sells! I can’t jeopardize my career just because I found y/n to be the most beautiful and incredible and real person I’ve ever met. I mean, right?”

Harrison piped up at that.

“You really are more stupid than you look. Tom I’m gonna tell you straight. They’re living in some figmented reality where your relationship status determines whether or not you get hired. I mean, you’re Spider-Man for God’s sake. That has to count for something, right?”

Tom bounced his head back and forth in contemplation. 

“I mean I guess-” he started when Harrison cut him off again.

“You guess!” he stood up in disbelief. “You guess? Come on! Directors don’t care who the hell you’re dating if you’re giving them Oscar worthy performances and box office hits! And even then, who cares about your career when you’re putting your heart on the cutting board for it. Just go after the damn girl, Tom. And fire those assholes while you’re at it.”

                            __________________________________

A/N: Still can’t believe I got this out so quickly. Anyways, thanks for reading and as always, send me a message or ask if you wanna talk since I can’t respond to comments! (And keep an eye out for “the best revenge,” my new series)

TAG LIST: @marvel-lously, @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @dreamyvans, @lisannehus, @honeymoonpeter, @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven, @chenellearose, @photoshopart15, @parkeret, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch, @racewife2004 

[newcaptainofsquad9]

So, When Can We Tell The World? {1} Min Yoongi x black! fem! reader

Parts: 1 2 3 4  5 6 

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Summary: You and Yoongi have been collaborating for a few years, what the public world didn’t know however was that the both of you were in a happy, functioning relationship. After showing up to support at one of your shows, Yoongi suggests going public, making you anxious for him, but most of all your own well-being with his fans and of what the South Korean public would think of you. 

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Romance, Idol-verse, Smut (hinted at in this part, but none explicitly)

Word Count: 2, 046

Author’s Note: So, here we are another series. I know too many, but this one will probably be the same chapter length as Shakespeare Sub, I promise. Anyways, I hope ya’ll enjoy it and if ya’ll have any BTS or EXO requests, send them my way. Thanks!

The last song of the concert always feels surreal. The stage isn’t huge, just a decent sized theater in Bluetsville(your hometown). It’s the thought that gets me, I’ve played at bigger venues before, yet coming back always gets me emotional. Once the song finishes I smile so hard my cheeks hurt and glance out into the crowd as applause fills the entire venue. 

One person stands out the most with his over-sized black hoodie, glasses and a cap with my stage name on it. I wouldn’t have done a double take if he didn’t flash that familiar gummy smile, as if he knew I was going to look there. It’s only a moment, yet I recognize Yoongi’s smile anywhere, he hardly does it even around me. Maybe his fans don’t notice him but in that slip second I did as he claps the loudest before sending me his finger hearts. I start to do it back, but stop myself abruptly. No, that’ll just draw attention to us. It’s almost an exclusive k-pop gesture, which someone on Twitter could easily pick up on. Instead I send him a quick wink. 

“Thank you so much!” I scream.

The crowd reacts in thunderous applause once more, I give one last bow and turn back towards the curtain, disappearing behind it.

***

I find myself dressed down in my dressing room, wearing one of Yoongi’s old hoodies, a snapback and grey sweats. My phone lights up abruptly, signalling an upcoming call from my brother, Kevin of all people. 

“Sup loser,” I say through a low giggle. 

“Yo idiot,” he answers back, “how’d the show go?”

I sigh with a dopey grin.

It was amazing. Even though the people packed together in swayed, waved and sung together like a frenzied horde, I couldn’t help but think back to Yoongi. I hope he got to wherever he needed to safely. 

“Uh, did you hear me?” Kevin asks. 

“Y-Yeah,” I say quickly, “it went amazing, a little more daunting compared to my first tour.”

Kevin gaffs.   

“If that didn’t boost your chances at the Grammys, I don’t know what will!” 

I chuckle against the phone at my brother’s words. 

“I don’t think that’s how it works Kev,” I say, “I don’t really care, they invited me, I guess to preform.”

Kevin hums. 

“Yeah?” he asks, “And what about ol’ Agust D, eh? he performing with you? I heard him and the guys were supposed to be there too.”

I can’t help but smile when he mentions Yoongi’s other rap persona. That album was what made me discover Yoongi’s music, along with BTS’s discography and eventually pushed me to want to collaborate with them. What I didn’t expect was to fall in love with Yoongi during our time recording All The Crown Players(a song from your album). 

“I’m not really sure,” I say, “you know how they can be.”

“Oh, I know, how can they snub you twice!” Kevin whines, “anyway, I gotta go! Next time you talk to ol’ Suga tell him I said hey!”

I roll my eyes. 

“I told you  to call him Yoongi,” I groan. 

“Ey, that’s what the fans call him,” he says, “talk to you later, love you.”

“Love you too idiot,” I say.

Kevin starts to say something else but I hang up anyway. If he’s got something to do he won’t call back as fast and I won’t get another earful. 

“That’s what you get for teasing me about my boyfriend,” I mutter to myself.  

A text from Yoongi lights my phone up instead. 

Yoongi: It amazes me every time you perform, God you were so amazing babe

My dopey smile returns once my fingers numbly tap the keypad in response.

Me: I saw you at the end! How the hell did you get in without anyone recognizing you?

Yoongi responds straight away.

Yoongi: I have my ways. I’ve been doing this for seven years sweetheart, I’ve mastered the art of incognito mode. 😎

My grin spreads out at his message. My fingers follow the lame joke that pops into my head, yet I couldn’t care less.

Me: So, what you’re Batman? No, Anpanman! 😂😂

I giggle out as Yoongi’s response takes a little longer, as it should. Between my lame jokes and Jin’s dad jokes I think he’s fed up with the both of us. At least with me it makes some sort of sense. 

A moment passes, instead of a text back I get a call from Yoongi. Oh boy. 

“Hello?” I answer.

“I know you’re laughing,” Yoongi says, “I just want to confirm that it wasn’t funny.”

I cover my mouth to stifle the remaining giggles that flood out. 

“I know, but it’s true,” I say, “you are my Anpanman.”

Yoongi grumbles something that I can’t make out. 

“Sorry babe, what was that?” I ask. 

“Nothing Jagi,” he says, “anyway —”

“Yoongi,” I warn, “tell me, please?”

Yoongi sighs deeply.

“I said, I better be your Anpanman,” he admits, “are you happy now?” 

“Yes,” I say, “how long are you gonna be here?”

“As long as you want me,” Yoongi answers, “we got a small break before Grammys and the MMAs. I was wondering if we could meet at your place.”

My heart hammers in my chest at his words. We’ve stayed with each other overnight before, yet I always feel like I’m some lovestuck teenager when I’m around Yoongi. We rarely get moments together, if it’s public we have to remain friendly, but not too friendly to raise dating suspicions. Even when he’s here in America it’s difficult to schedule time for each other. I’m an artist too and BTS is getting just as huge, the fact that Yoongi and I both have time before the Grammy’s is a God send.    

“Y/N?” Yoongi asks, breaking me from my thoughts. 

“Yeah, we can meet there,” I reassure, “you still have a key?”

“You know I do,” he says, “see you there.”

I bit my lip before humming in agreement. 

***

The moment I step across the threshold of my house, I shut the door and twist the locks in place. A pair of strong arms wrap around my waist before I can get a chance to take my hands off the cold locks. 

“I need to go to your shows more often,” Yoongi says. 

I shiver at his breath near my ear and turn around in his arms to face him. He’s in his dark hoodie, but the hat is gone, revealing soft, short brown hair that falls into his eyes. 

“You come when you can,” I say, “I’m just glad you got there safely.”

Yoongi chuckles while he moves a hand up to cup my face. 

“You worry too much,” he notes, “I’m here, ok?”

His eyes soften as they bore into mine, he leans in to press our foreheads together. I follow his lead, our lips meet in a fierce kiss, something we haven’t been able to do in months. My fingers find themselves in his brown locks as he groans into the kiss, backing up slightly, yet not disconnecting from my lips. 

I pull back with a giggle.

“Are you good?”

Yoongi nods and nudges his head towards my velvet sofa. 

“I just wanted to take this to the couch,” he admits, “your concert took everything out of me.”

“Oh really?”

Yoongi nods as I take his hand and lead him to the sofa before we both plop down on it. 

“Really,” he confirms with a kiss, “you kinda got me worked up actually.”

I return his kisses fully, pull myself up into his lap and rub down his chest. 

“Is that in a good way?” I challenge. 

Yoongi growls against my jaw, kissing down my neck as his hands rub up and down my sides. 

“Oh it’s good baby, so good,” he groans, “God, tug your fingers in my hair again.”

I nod as our lips meet once again, my fingers find themselves in his hair as our make out continues. His moans make me smile, his hips bucking up against me as the kisses grow hungrier. 

“You’re so needy,” I whisper, “do you need me to take care of that?”

Yoongi’s eyes close as he nods. 

“Please, I, God, I love you,” he moans. 

My hands freeze once I reach for the buckle of his pants. Did he just say the l word? 

Yoongi opens his eyes, the lust that was once there is replaced with concern.

“Y/N?” he asks, “you all right?”

I nod and slide back onto the couch from his lap. 

“Yeah,” I lie. 

Of course I knew he loved me, he never says it though. I’m the one you says it, and Yoongi always responds with a “me too” or “love you more.” Never fully. It shouldn’t bother me much, yet it does for some reason. 

“Y/N,” Yoongi says. 

I look up and his face is only an inch from my own. 

“Was that too much?” he asks, “what did I do wrong?”

I stroke his cheek and shake my head. 

“Nothing, it’s just,” I pause before continuing, “it was just surprising to hear I love you from you.”

Yoongi pulls back to pull me into an embrace. 

“You had me worried,” he whispers, “I know I need to say it more especially when we’re pressed for time together.”

I smile in the crook of his neck. 

“No, it’s fine,” I say, “we can keep it between us.”

Yoongi pulls back with a puzzled glare.

“What do you mean?”

I sit up and gnaw at my lip. 

“Maybe, we shouldn’t say it often, because I don’t want it to slip out at the wrong time,” I explain, “with ARMY and all those girls clawing at you.”

Yoongi chuckles as he leans in to plant a few kisses down my neck. 

“Do they make you jealous?” he asks.

I can hardly focus as his lips continue to work. 

“Well, a little,” I say, “it’s a lot to live up to.”

Yoongi grows serious. I end up against his chest as his arms wound themselves tightly around me. His heart beats rhythmically in tune with mine, forcing me to calm down just a bit.

“They don’t hold a candle to you,” he says, “I love them, but it’s a different type of love. You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

The words get lodged in my throat at the intense look Yoongi throws at me. He’s completely serious. 

“Yoongi-”

“Y/N, I want to tell the world,” he admits, “ARMY, everyone.”

Where is he going with this?

“Yoongi, what are you-”

“We should be official,” Yoongi declares.

My mind goes haywire. He isn’t serious, right?

“But we are official,” I say, “Yoongi, we’ve already established that we’re dating.”

Yoongi shakes his head this time.

“Y/N you know what I mean,” he says, “I don’t want to hide anymore.”

A rush comes to my head at once. The headlines would be horrendous: “BTS star Suga has been revealed to be dating ‘urban’ Hip Hop artist Y/N Y/L/N.” Kpop Twitter will literally implode in on itself. Yoongi won’t get any rest and I won’t be able to live it down. If I was Korean maybe, just maybe I would get out alive, even if I was white too, but as a black woman? There’s not a chance in hell.

“Babe, please tell me what you’re thinking,” Yoongi pleads,”you’ve been quiet for awhile.”

“Yoongi, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say.

“How come?” he asks.

“Well, for one, do you know what happened with Chen? Kai? Jennie?” I ask, “the fans would devour me!”

“They wouldn’t,” he grumbles, “you’re an amazing person, singer, rapper and writer.”

“Yeah and black,” I say bluntly, “they can’t get past that.”

Yoongi takes both of my hands prior to squeezing tightly. 

“I know, but they’ll just have to handle it, right?”

It’s like the words aren’t even being comprehended. Does he not hear me? 

I inhale slowly and stand from the couch. 

“Y/N-”

I give Yoongi an artificial smile, something to get him off my back for a moment. 

“I-I’m ok, I-I just need some time to myself,” I say. 

Yoongi deflates, but nods anyway before leaning back into the couch. 

[kaleidoscopeheartandsoul]

Lie to Me Theory: Music Video

Start Here: Lie to Me Theory: Timeline 

There is no way to beat around this part of theory. It must be approached directly and bravely. All of what has happened in the timeline to here has left people distracted. So no one would be looking for the ultimate truth in a video about lying. Luke is singing. He addresses four different people. Everyone is represented by cars: three different parties. Two different agendas for being in relationships. All stemming from one reason. 

First we need to talk about the two truly significant elements of the Lie to Me Music Video: the lyrics and the center car. 

What do we mean by lyrics? The ones available on AZlyrics or Genius? The ones they’re singing? Not this time.

From the video description.

Artist frequently put their lyrics in the description of their videos. 5SOS does this on a number of their videos. This is the only one of their videos where the lyrics in the description 1. from a different version of the song and 2. have a typo in them

Here is one of the screenshots of the LTM Official MV that I took.

These were the official lyrics that Ashton, Calum and Luke wrote with Ali Tamposi. And then a very talented and good female singer, Julia Michaels, was brought in so they could make the official lyrics publicly available

It is strange that they would do this. Why not just leave both versions of the lyrics under the proper versions of each video? Unless the lyrics of the official audio version aren’t actually the right lyrics.

It is careless and weird that the grammar on most of their videos (all of their other music videos) is good and then suddenly on LTM the first typo on a music video appears. They would have caught it and fixed it by now, surely. 

These boys don’t know how to spell “Change” huh? ‘Chang’

Don’t know how to edit the description of a YouTube video? Forgot to? Don’t care to?  Remember when Michael told Luke on twitter to go back to school.

Change is the only word mispelled in the description of any of their music videos...because the lyrics were “Changed.” 

Yes, it is entirely possible something this cryptic occurred. 

Think Think Think

The cleverness within this band should not be underestimated. Time and time again, artists under Modest! have used covert means to convey the truth of their situations without the majority of their audiences noticing. 

These in the description are the original lyrics of LTM. The lyrics of the official release were changed to fit the image that management wanted to promote. This seems to be the implication, so interpretation of the music video rests on these lyrics and not the ones they are singing.

Symbolic Cars

This part was easy for people to pick up on. 

Represented on the passenger side of the center car by 96 like Hemmo1996.

Then there’s the other side of the car.

Represented on the driver’s side of the center car by these two lower-cased letters: ae.  So who’s ae?

There are a number of options for people special enough in Luke’s life that he might want in the car with him, in fact, a person he cares enough about that that person might be the driver. A person with ae in their name. So there’s a lot of those. What narrows down the options is that ae is a person who is close to  Luke but in the same situation as Luke. They are both circled by cars that represent threats to their wellbeing. So you can decide who ae is. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this video was released the week of Michael Clifford’s engagement. That would be ludicrous.

Now we can talk about the video story

L can see the mess before he agrees to be a part of it. The two cars are already circling like sharks before he gets into the car. He still gets into the car, sitting in the backseat. He’s surrendered for the next half of the video. Pain and heartbreak etched into his face. 

The circling cars represent “toxic people” like Ashton clued. So the circling cars are toxic relations.

He addresses the first chorus primarily to the circling car with toxic person #1.  This is a person who left him not only emotionally fraught but publicly humiliated him and scarred his reputation, then dropped all responsibility for fun and left him to do the clean up.

And now I wish we never met 

because you are too hard to forget

While I’m cleaning up your mess

I know he’s taking off your dress

And I know that you don’t, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

The easy interpretation: 

1.     The person involved is sleeping with someone else but L isn’t angry that he’s been betrayed. Maybe because he loves her so much he could even forgive that...or maybe because he actually never loved her.

2.    Her marks on his life still causes a lot of grief because she publicly humiliated him and took no responsibility, so this is why all his regret stems from being stuck in the dump she threw him into 

3.     But he’s in communication with her---so he can ask her questions. Like if she still loves him. But that doesn’t make sense if he didn’t even like her that much.

“LTM represents when someone is in a relationship for something other than what you are there for.” Like fame or publicity, but Luke is using her for something else entirely.

Luke was being used because he was in a vulnerable situation. He still is in a vulnerable situation. It made it easy for others to hurt him but he didn’t rely on them. 

He starts by regretting the toxic relationship, but in these last two lines, he is turning to a different person, his person. 

Luke’s voice lifts at the end of each chorus as he turns to his last hope. “And I know that you don’t” because he sees how disgusted the person must be by the situation “but if I ask you if you love me, I hope you lie...” I hope you’ll love me. Despite how much you couldn’t--don’t like me.  

It’s 3 am and the moonlight’s testing me

I know you’ve been holding onto someone else

And now I can’t sleep (Ah)

I ain’t happy, oh

I ain’t too happy, oh

This verse starts immediately after the first time we get to see the driver’s side of the car where it says ae. This is extremely coincidental. It’s shifting focus onto another person. 

So he’s addresses ae basically, ‘I feel tested. I’ve turned to you and begged you to take me, but you’ve been acting like me, holding on to the same stories I’ve been through with a toxic person. It worries me. I am not happy. But I am also not mad at you.’

 Luke holds back from accusing ae even though he would like to. He is wounded again by ae’s actions but he does not want to outright blame ae for the situation that they are both stuck in the center of. 

 Flashing back to New York City 

Chang your flight so you stay with me

Remember thinking that I got this right

‘Flashing back’ is when we recall memories. Nostalgia sets in for a better time. The first pre-chorus, Luke has a balance he is reminiscing about when he at the time thought he could balance both of his relationships perfectly. There was turmoil of course--the need to re-negotiate flights because of a mess up with leaving to New York--but it was alright after that and that’s why he was led into a false sense of security that he got this “right.” Did anyone ever have to change flights when they were trying to leave New York city because of a mistake. 

It’s funny that I thought this typo was on purpose because the official lyric again is ‘Change your flight so you stay with me’ but if it was really meant to be ‘changed’ then it would fit a dual purpose, warning us about the lyric flop and talking about that one time someone had their flight changed when they were trying to stay with Luke too. I’m dropping hints like bombs but I’m not saying what I’m talking about yet and it’s hilarious and terrible. Later post I promise. 

Flashing back to New York City

I was done but you undid me

Classic me to run when it feels right

The second time, Luke runs away from New York City, symbol of stability and security within his relationship with ae. He was done--he didn’t have any interest in connection with any of the toxic ones--but you undid me--again the theme of being humiliated and having a slaughtered reputation, the pain that goes with that. And now after the 3am verse  Luke is with ae, and done with TP #1, but ae’s ‘someone else,’ the second circling car, the other toxic person, is there to ruin Luke’s life again but by being attached to ae. This time Luke wants out. He’s so done already but this person is causing him double the agony that the last one did because he’s involving someone he cares for deeply. And he leaves the car before either of the circling cars smash into it. There is no Luke to hurt. Luke got out when “it feels right.” He knew this time that things were going well with ae but he gave up on ae because he was tired.

While Luke was humiliated, and went through a great deal of grief because of his toxic relationship, at no time during the car collisions do we see 96. Instead, the footage of the driver’s side of the car with the prominent ae is flipped so it looks as though the wheel of the car is on the right side passenger side of the car. It’s as though everything that once applied to Luke’s situation now applies to ae’s cause holy shit.

As it turns out, ae takes the hardest hit. The tempo is the most upbeat it was the entire video during the last chorus.  Luke is still surrendered to the situation but he’s protesting against the way they have been treated. Now all the boys are united, not just watching Luke. They’re all supporting each other. Luke is talking to Toxic Relationship person 2 in this chorus. He is stronger now. He’s done this before and the boys are supporting him. He’s standing up for ae. 

Last chorus: 

Now I wish we never met 

'Cause you're too hard to forget 

While he's taking off my dress 

I know she's laying on your chest

The relationship between himself and ae is the strongest it’s ever been, but even when ae’s taking off Luke’s clothes, Luke can tell that ae’s toxic relationship weighs on his heart. It is as though she is laying on his chest like depression weighs on the heart. Also this is gay if it’s real. 

Final verses:

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me 

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me 

Singing, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie 

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie 

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie 

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie (Yeah yeah) 

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me 

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

The last part “I know that you don’t....” is repeated twice with many desperate pleas for lies. It is repeated twice for both types of relationships: toxic and ae. 

For toxic, he hopes that they pretend that they love him. He’ll even sing their lies. For ae, he hopes whenever they are in public playing their games of animosity, if he ever slips up and does something loving or a giveaway, he hopes ae will lie about loving Luke too and follow through playing their pretend game of hate because it’s the only way to avoid making the situation worse, and that’s the one thing the management and the boys want. 

Then the car explodes

Because he knows, they know, it’s not going to work. All the lies are going to blow them up. So the car explodes. Showing ae. The lies literally made ae explode. 

An hour after the Lie to Me Music Video premieres, Michael’s fiancee announces publicly that they are engaged.  

Take care everyone :) tpwk including you