#Uni vc: please hold me

[polarurchin]

In the spirit of Sinday, feel free to send 💞 + any dirty questions you may have for them on anon, and they HAVE to answer honestly!    

@ikkaku-of-heart​ asked:  💞 What was your first time like and who was it with? (Saw in your tags that Uni wasn't a virgin before Fishman Island so now Ikkaku is curious as heck)

Uni breathed through his nose at this. Seemingly much more level-headed than he was when asked about his barrage of fishman island flings. Though he seemed a little too cool about it, almost stoic in the way he calmy took his next drink of the glass he had on hand.

“My first huh? Felt so long ago and when it did happen, I expected her to run off as soon as the bandana dropped.”

Which unfortunately was a truth and had become an expectation early on in his career as a pirate. Whenever Uni would have the luck of catching some womans eye more often than not the night would end with the girl in hysterics and Uni running back out to the Tang with his whole face covered.

“But surprising she stayed. Gently touched my scars and everything. Most people would just fuck and leave but my first felt special in that it seemed rather tender. A real shame too because it was good and I still can’t recall her name.”

#ikkaku-of-heart #:Interrogate The Urchin: Asks #:sinday: #Most of the other Hearts: ew intimacy! #Uni vc: please hold me #He can be a little touch starved at times

[straighttohellbuddy]

but you're talking in your sleep {Wilbur Soot}

one. does she still think of me

Summary: Two years ago, you'd met Wil Gold in a pub shortly after moving to London, but ended up falling out of contact when it turned out your ex-boyfriend moved to try and make things work... Completely unrelated, but lately Tommy's started complaining to Wilbur about his sister bringing her insufferable boyfriend home for Christmas, and Wilbur's wondering where he's heard your name before.

Need to Know: She/Her, implied early 20s, Sister-Innit!Reader. it is never stated or even implied whether Tommy & the reader are related by blood or otherwise, so that's up to you, and while there are mentions of reader celebrating christmas, it's more because Tommy's family celebrates it. reader is said to be studying literature at university. please heed the warnings.

A/N: 8533 words. fuck it, i'm posting now unedited. part 2 tomorrow. part 3 day after that. 3 days three parts lets go. ive put my grubby little hands all over lovejoy's songs and decided many are about the reader because its my wish fulfilment fantasy and i can do what i want. if you take one look at the pacing i'll bite you, but if you comment or send me an ask about the fic i'll kiss you on the mouth. ALSO MARK IS AN OC, not a cc.

Warnings: drinking (both recreationally and Situational Alcohol Abuse*), implied emotional & verbal manipulation/abuse, emotional cheating ??

[ * while this fic deals with heavy drinking as a coping mechanism, it is situational alcohol abuse, not alcoholism, which is why, in the later parts, it appears easier to resolve (in a sense) than alcoholism. source? i'm a recovering alcoholic, trust me, i know serious alcoholism doesn't usually have an on-off switch. ]

{ masterpost : 1 / 3 }

{ p l a y l i s t }

Taglist: @marvelsmurphy @automaticcomputerpaper @kattenprinsen @parkerpeanuts @bumblebea-xo @lovehatewhateveritis @rainyaheysoe @tcphat @smol-flower-kiddo @pogface @luluwinchester @captainpuffyrp @dreamerwasfound @pepe-lepe @njhrecord @auralol @moonlightaura03 @the-friendly-ghostwrite @blaisey-bee @kingudon @friendwasfound @ahsteriawrites @eeyore-onthefloor @30-minutes-into-the-future @rexgoesrawrrrrrr @arielting @laneunderwave @axeofwars @hoezeeor @lightninginab0ttle @irwinkitten @gyneve @stoop18 @franaby @ozdramaqueen @moriiartist @ticcisimon

Taglist is always open!!

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"Y/N is bringing Mark home for Christmas," Tommy mutters with distracted disdain one evening over a Discord VC; Wilbur's the only other one in the chat with him, the two of them waiting for Charlie and Tubbo to join to film a video. Tommy's tone comes as a surprise; for all that his online persona is boisterous and rather egocentric, the kid himself was quite kind and well mannered, so genuine dislike, bordering on actual contempt, was enough to pique Wilbur's interest.

"Not a fan of Mark, are we?"

"He's really ruining the name Mark," Tommy answers without hesitation, the thoughts clearly having plagued him for a while, "but Y/N got mad at me the last time I called him The Inferior Mark over text -"

"Sorry," Wilbur cuts him off, "Y/N?" That's what breaks Tommy from his distracted ranting, giving pause and sighing deeply. The clatter of his keyboard stops.

"My older sister;" he says, tone far warmer, "she's in London doing cool Uni things, but for some stupid reason is still dating Milquetoast Mark, who is decidedly less cool, but he was nice to her in high school so now I have to look at his face every time she comes home to visit."

"Milquetoast Mark?"

"The man is the very essence of beige, Wilbur," Tommy groaned, pitching himself back in his chair, vaguely muffled, as if holding his face in his hands, "he looks like a clown themed whack-a-mole, but I still couldn't pick him out of a line-up of one!"

There's so many things Wilbur wants to ask as he's trying not to laugh, but before he can decide which to go with first, Discord alerts them to the fact that Tubbo joined the call, and he doesn't even get to say hello before Tommy's groaning loudly.

"She's bringing Milquetoast Mark, and I'm going to eat dirt," Tommy whined, and Tubbo made a noise of understanding.

"Yeah, she warned me that she'd just told you," he says with an air of commiseration.

"Tell Wilbur! I don't think he believes me that Mark is the personification of bloody nothing!"

"Mark is..." Tubbo muses for a moment, but as soon as he can get a word in edgewise, Wilbur pipes up.

"Okay, hold on, I do believe you, but how long have we known each other? How is this the first time I'm hearing about you having a sister?" He's half laughing, though there's confusion in his voice.

"Mark's not a fan of being known or having fun, so I don't mention them a lot," Tommy mutters, "she's wanted to do YouTube for ages but -" he huffs irately through his nose, but doesn't finish his thought.

"She only made friends with me to spite Tommy," Tubbo added, "she called me The Superior Brother," his voice was gleeful, Wilbur didn't have to see him to know he was practically preening.

"I assume this was not long after Tommy called her boyfriend The Inferior Mark," Wilbur snickers, and Tommy's loud sigh, and Tubbo's delighted laughter is confirmation enough.

Charlie joins not long after, and the video goes on ahead without a hitch, though in the back of his mind, something about the name of Tommy's sister was familiar to him. He's not quite sure, but doesn't think much more about it.

Tommy messages him with various plots against this mysterious Milquetoast Mark, including serving him actual milk-drenched-toast as a snide reminder of how Tommy feels about him. It's usually accompanied by screenshots of his messages to his sister, who's already shot down whatever ludicrous idea he's had.

Wilbur's not quite sure why Tommy keeps messaging about his sister, but it's rather endearing; considering only himself and Tubbo know of Y/N's existence online, he takes it as a sign of trust. It's not often enough for him to really notice at first, once every few days, asking for advice on potential Christmas presents, or telling Wilbur about how he's excited to hang out around town with his sister and Tubbo, but as Wilbur learns more, he gets more and more of that sense of strange familiarity, like he's met this woman before. Maybe your name's familiar, or your choice of study, Literature of all things, or maybe it's a weirdly familiar sentiment he thinks he hears in Tommy's words, knowing he's heard it before -

"She wants to be a uni professor, what a nerd," despite his words, the way Tommy says them is drenched in pride and affection.

He gets a photo with two incredibly blurry, nearly unidentifiable figures in the foreground, and he only discerns the one on the left is Tommy by the height, colour pallet, the indistinct delight on his face, and the fact that he was the one literally crash tackling the second figure into a blur of motion with his hug. In the background, a man Wilbur didn't recognise with dark hair in a blue polo shirt was watching the movement with mild disdain. Three minutes after the first photo is sent, a second comes through that is just zoomed in on the man in the background's face so it filled the whole screen in a truly unflattering way, with the word 'BITCH' typed in big, red letters across the bottom of the screen. The second photo is simply captioned 'mark 😠'.

[Y/N home?] Wilbur sends, giving a faint smile at Tommy's exuberance.

[mark is in my fucking house wilbur 😠] Tommy responds, adding [and i can't call him a bitch to his face because Y/N will get upset with me so im telling you] and then sends through a second, new photo just of Mark's face with the word 'BITCH' over it. Wilbur gets new photos nearly identical to the second and third sporadically throughout the days that follow, but never any photos of Y/N herself.

But his suspicions are confirmed less than a week after your arrival at Nottingham.

[wilbur you're the only one that knows i have a sister outside of tubbo so you're also the only one who i can tell that tubbo is going to be banned from my house. i hate them both] Tommy sends to Wilbur one fine afternoon, and it's not long after Wilbur sends back a confused but amused message that he gets a video chat request over Discord.

When he answers, the entire screen is filled with Tommy's frowning face.

"You see what I have to put up with?" Tommy grumbles, flipping the camera around to where Y/N and Tubbo were sitting on the sofa, hugging each other almost comically close, with Tubbo's head on your shoulder, and your cheek resting on his head as he was quietly talking about plans he had for upcoming videos.

"What is happening?" Wilbur laughs, finally grabbing both your and Tubbo's attention.

"She called him the superior brother," Tommy huffed, "they've been like this for half an hour." Neither you nor Tubbo move, but Tubbo does wave.

"I said 'superior brother - comma - parasocial'," you clarified, "and I Tubbs is only here for a few days; you're acting like you and I didn't spend a full hour the day I got back both trying to fit on your gaming chair while you showed me memes and art people have done of you," and Tommy, at the very least, conceded on that, right before you ask who he's talking to.

Looking back to his phone screen finally, Tommy gives a slight frown; when had Wilbur turned his camera off?

"Will, you still there?"

"'s Wilbur," Tubbo clarified for you, right around the time your phone went off, and you let go of Tubbo to pick it up, eyes going wide as you quickly pressed the phone to your chest so Tubbo couldn't glimpse at the screen while you crowed with laughter.

"That Wilbur!" You exclaimed, "I was eighty percent sure it was you but not enough to -"

"What are you talking about?" Tommy asked, right as Wilbur turned his camera back on; he was sitting at his desk looking deeply shocked. You, however, were detangling yourself from Tubbo, phone still pressed tightly to your chest as you stood. Both boys were audibly confused, while Wilbur was hiding half his face behind his steepled fingers, as if waiting. He didn't have to wait long, however, as once you stand and slide your phone into your pocket, you step into the space beside Tommy as he switches the camera back around so yourself and your brother could both be seen.

"Hello Wil Gold," you say cheerfully, and before Wilbur can even splutter through his various confused and suddenly alarmed thoughts, you turned to Tommy, "Wil and I used to hang out at the same bars early in my first year."

"You know him? Why didn't you say anything!?" Tommy exclaimed, "we've had extensive discussions about my videos that he's in!" Then, after a beat, he practically yells, “is Wilbur Soot your friend ‘Tall Will’?”

"Our friend Tall Will," you correct him with sage amusement, before conceding, "and, I mean, evidently- but like I said, I wasn't a hundred percent sure -!" You fired back, a little flustered at being called out, though finally Wilbur found his voice.

"As opposed to all your short friends named Will?" He asked, incredulous.

“Tell me I’m wrong!” You crowed, responding without even missing a beat, rolling your eyes.

“It’s your name in her phone,” Tommy pipes up, nose in the air, still making an attempt at betrayal. You, however, look directly at the camera, smile all Cheshire-wide and knowing.

"I’ll let him continue to believe that," and when your words come out all kinds of smug, Wilbur’s phone seems to conveniently fall flat, now pointing at his roof.

"Then what is his name in your phone?" Tubbo asked, still intrigued and on the peripheries of this unexpected event. Wilbur himself was mercifully quiet.

"It's too mean, I can't tell you," you lied, looking at the boy over your shoulder, though were honest when you added, "and I'm going to change it anyways since I now know it's your friend Wilbur," and you pinched Tommy on the cheek for effect, even as he tried to slap your hand away, even as he automatically corrected you.

"Our," he mutters without even really thinking about it, before he's imploring you, "come on, tell us please," while he's leaning against you hard enough that the pair of you almost toppled over. Despite your laughter, you adamantly refuse, making your way back to the sofa, however as you flop back down beside Tubbo, Tommy is quick to follow suit, and throws himself like a starfish over both of you.

The sound of your bright laughter as you squabble with your brother hit Wilbur square in the chest, and he ends the call.

He's kind of grateful that it was a short call, but can't help but think about the fact that it's been well over a year and a half since the last time the two of you had spoken. He keeps reading the texts. He can't believe he hasn't deleted them, that he still has the same bloody phone.

[Wilbur: you coming out tonight? feels like forever since we've hung out]

[your future hot lit professor 🍑📚💖:it's been like 2 days 😅]

[Wilbur: still tho]

[Wilbur: don't make me say i've missed you]

[your future hot lit professor 🍑📚💖: im sorry,, mark's taking me to a movie tonight. i'll have to catch you another time]

[Wilbur: ah don't worry about it, have a good night]

And then it was nothing. Absolutely nothing for almost two years. Until today.

[Wilbur: weird question, are you currently hugging a kid called Tubbo?]

You hadn't even opened the message, which means his name is still saved in your phone, and you knew it was him the moment the message had popped up on your lock screen.

Later, he'll text you as his curiosity gets the better of him, asking privately this time what his name is in your phone.

[i can't believe you forgot! neither the name itself nor the emojis i added was something i could admit in front of my little brother and his best friend so i'm definitely immediately changing it, but......😅] and your accompanying screenshot has him blushing scarlet and putting his phone down as he took a moment to recover.

It was unfortunately, however, confirmation that you were the exact same Y/N that he'd had a six week fling with at the start of his third year of uni after meeting you at a bar, offering to show you the sights of London since you had said you were new to the area. The sights had definitely included his bedroom -

And suddenly he's reminded of the grateful surprise in your eyes when he'd brought you tea when you'd woken up, how you'd held the mug to your chest with one hand like you were afraid someone was going to steal it, phone in the other, how you half smirked as he'd settled back against his headboard carefully -

"I don't mean to be forward, but does this mean I can get your number?"

And there'd been no hesitation, no considerations for 'wait isn't this a one-time thing?' or the fact that you'd known each other for about 12 hours in total. You didn't have to stay; he's had girls leave with little fanfare, girls who tried not to wake him, and girls who whose promise to call him some time was obviously a lie. For his part, Wilbur was well aware he didn't have to get you tea, didn't have to bring it in to you while you had remained tucked under his duvet. He wasn't above subjecting girls to the awkwardly polite small talk his housemates would inflict upon them while they all sat around the table of questionable stability eating breakfast, and he's pretty sure none of those girls left with his number in their phone.

But you, new to the city and didn't owe him shit, especially not when he used that information to hit on you in one of his less graceful pick up attempts, and you turned out to be warm and funny and honest - "If you want me to go, I'll go, no hard feelings, we barely know each other, I get it dude -" and you laugh so hard you almost spill your tea when you read what he'd saved his name as in your phone.

You'd named yourselves in each other's phones almost two years ago, and now had to live with the consequences of never changing them. Was that really what he'd wanted you to remember him for at time? He's not wrong persay, but still... The guitar and eggplant emojis you've added are mocking him, he's sure of it.

And now he had to look Tommy in the eyes and act like he didn't sleep with his sister. Several times.

Fuck, the fates must be finding this funny.

[thank you for being so good to tommy] you sent, which surprised him, as does your follow up message [always knew you were a good sort]. For a few moments he blinks at the messages, still glancing at the name your future hot lit professor in bold letters at the top of his screen.

[he's a good kid] Wilbur sends back without really thinking.

[he's the best 😊] it seems that for all Tommy was excited to see you and talk about you, the sentiment was mutual; it would have been heart-warming if the new context didn't make it vaguely disconcerting.

He wants to ask - well, he wants to ask a lot of things. Do you know how Tommy feels about your boyfriend? Was the Mark you were with now the same Mark you'd gotten back with back when you knew each other? But instead, he chooses to go with -

[you really didn't recognise me before now? me and your brother have been making content for months now] he points out, and he works more on the world for his next one-hundred-player streams. It takes him a moment, but before you've sent through the response you’re working on, he can't help but add [I've MET him. i've met your dad].

[i mean i did recognise you but it would be weird trying to explain to tommy,, not even because of what happened but i really didn't want to explain HOW i recognised you. i don't even want to admit it now 😅] but of course your answer piques his interest, and he eggs you on. Which almost immediately comes back to bite him, since the first thing you send through is that you've seen a lot of the DreamSMP. Every single potential moment you would have possibly seen flashes through his mind, and he's kind of dreading which of them was the one that made you go 'oh I know him!'. Even you seem hesitant, as it's taking you an awfully long time to finish your next message, and he hasn't touched his keyboard.

[um.] It took you four minutes to send this. Four minutes. [you're gonna laugh.......]

[actually maybe i don't want to know] he responds, and the typing bubble from you suddenly stops. For a moment, he breathes a sigh of relief, content with never knowing, however you start typing again and his head hits the desk, dreading your answer. His phone buzzes several time before he feels as though he can handle whatever you've sent, and he reads the messages waiting for him from you;

[so like i said i was 80% sure i knew you]

[and also i watch most of the big smp stuff from tommy's pov obviously]

[but then i got this confirmation and it kind of made me really happy because i was sad we fell out of touch but im glad you and tom are friends you know?]

[so 80% sure ...... then 100% ,,,,, uh. not EXACTLY what I remember but close enough that i was sure it was you, yanno?]

You're stalling.

[i'm dreading this please just tell me before the suspense kills me] he sends. He's even more embarrassed than he'd predicted, staring at the link you'd sent with a blank kind of horror.

All Reactions Of Wilbur Blowing Up L'manburg During the War On Dream SMP

He knows exactly how and why you recognised him, the face he'd been making, the show he'd been putting on, and he's pretty sure he can never look Tommy in the eye ever again.

[actually the knowing is worse lol] Wilbur sends, [this is how Pandora felt].

[probably hahaha,,,] then less than a minute later, [but maybe you should look back in the box, I hear there's something good to come out of this]

[Hope?] He hopes you can read the wryness of his response, but is pretty sure it won't translate.

[something like that I guess] you send, [maybe it's just me but I'm gonna be honest I'm glad I get to talk to you again]

[hi Y/N] he can't help but grin at your earnestness as he presses send.

[hi wilbur 😊💖]

He's so fucked.

And maybe he finds your Instagram, because you and Tommy are following each other, and he knows he's can't follow you, can't even like one of your posts, because his fans watch his likes and following list with - ha - fanatical attention. But you're smiling so brightly, holding hands with the man he knows is Mark as recently as last week, and there's a strange, unwelcome sensation in his chest. He closes the app before he can scroll too far; he's not trying to be masochistic today.

It's not that he thinks about you a lot, because well, he hadn't. For a long time, he'd been very good at not thinking about you entirely, almost forgotten even, but then you'd appeared when he'd least expected it. And it's like you'd never left his mind.

[you still studying lit?] he asks the next morning. He doesn't have to. He could have left it. Could have let you message first, and have been content to never message again if it came to it. But he hits send anyways.

[yeah a bit hahaha surprised you still remember] it takes you almost an hour to respond. He looks at your name in his phone, and again doesn't bother changing it.

[tommy mentioned it] which isn't technically a lie.

[of course he did 😂😂] you send back much quicker. Then, a few moments later, a candid photo of Tommy sitting at a kitchen island, taking a too-big bite of a piece of toast, looking at the camera like he'd been caught red-handed, [snitch]. But still, he learns that you're picking up some curriculum method subjects for High School English next semester, which has a strangely sinking sense of deja vu going off in the back of his mind, but he chooses instead to ignore it.

Your replies are sporadic at best, and often vague when he asks about uni, hesitating about anything even bordering on personal that isn't your little brother. Sometimes it'll take days for a one-sentence response. When he asks if everything's okay, he's not sure what tone to read in your answer.

[its just a bit weird messaging my little brother's friend, you know? 😅]

It kind of winds him in a way that he hadn't anticipated, but he supposes he understands.

[i can stop] he offers.

[no] comes almost immediately from you, [um please no? i do like talking to you. tom's got good friends 😅] and what the fuck is that supposed to mean? As he's spent a good deal of time staring, bewildered at the message, he gets a notification from discord. It's Tommy.

[Y/N wanted me to tell you that MARK 😠is weird about her being friends with you] and okay, that makes sense... and makes Wilbur strangely uneasy. Tommy, who must have been feeling something similar, and also because he probably couldn't help himself then sends [because he's a BITCH. dont tell Y/N i said that but im right].

[tommy's a good kid] he sends back to you directly instead, and hopes you read the understanding in the message. You send back a single red heart, an agreement of the written sentiment, but also an I know, and thank you.

You have become some strange echo of the woman he remembers; two years can change people considerably, but the more he recalls about who you were, the more he wonders how you became who you are.

But there's shades he recognises; your smile in the photos Tommy sends, the kindness in your words when you talk about your brother and Tubbo and their content, and how you wax poetic when he asks you about what you've been reading lately. If you see he's been watching your Instagram stories, you don't comment on it.

With the understanding that you were trying to act as if you'd never spoken to him before now, it's much easier to talk to you. Vague seems less vague when he understands that he's back to being closer to a stranger than a former friend. But with each day comes old shades of familiarity, whether you like it or not.

Until it's Friday, a week before Christmas, and it's almost midnight and you're calling him. Your photo lights up his screen; it's a selfie you took sitting against his damn headboard back in London. He really should change that, at least to look less creepy and pathetic.

"Will! Will!" You're gasping with delight when he answers, "Will, you're real, right?" You're stage whispering without giving him a chance to get a word in edge-wise, voice still managing to echo amongst the din of background noise.

"Are you at a pub?" He yawns, though he's sitting at his computer.

"You're real! I knew it!" You cheered quietly; he can hear someone calling for you through a door, asking if you're in there, "I thought I dreamed you up!" You tell him earnestly, ignoring the other voice for the time being, but he laughs softly.

"Are you drunk?" He asks with faint fondness, but you don't seem to quite hear him either.

"Now I know you're real because I called your number and you actually answered and are real, I have to tell you that you treat Tombles - Tommy -" you corrected yourself without missing a beat, "treat Tommy good, and if you don't keep doing that I'll be- Will, I'll be so mad I'll stop imagining you! You'll stop existing, so be nice to Tom, and if you can still be nice to me that would be nice, but if I imagined you like this I think you'll keep being nice to me so I don't have to remind you -" you giggle to yourself.

"I'm still real," he reminds you gently.

"You're real," you breathe, strangely calm. You name is called from outside again. A closer voice asks if it's your name they're calling, but you say it isn't. "Hey Will, I-" you start suddenly, only to hesitate, and then, softly, he hears you sigh and say, "did you know Tom says you make music?"

"I do make music, I didn't know he was recommending it," he says after a moment of hesitation, "are you okay? Do you need me to call you a taxi or something?"

"Mark's looking for me," you mused, "is it good music?"

"I, uh, I suppose? Depends on the song, but I made it, I think you need to ask someone else for a verdict on it's quality," he huffs a faint laugh, before adding, "shouldn't... shouldn't you go to him?"

"He'll find me, he always finds me," and it's said with a gentle serenity, though Wilbur is strangely reminded of someone who's succumbing to frostbite, "of course you're real; everyone real knows the right thing to do is go to him, don't make him worry -"

"Baby, please," in the background, the noise grows louder as Wilbur assumes a door is opened, and someone calls inside, "if you're in here, please come out, it's almost your turn on karaoke."

"Be out in a minute!" You called in response.

"Mark?" Wilbur asks as the noise grows quieter again.

"Mark," you confirm, tone unreadable, as you make faint grunts, "ooh my bones," you add, presumably getting to your feet, "picked my song right before I called you, thought it would take longer."

"Why'd you call?" Wilbur hears himself ask.

"Wasn't sure if you were real," you answered honestly and easily, "why'd you pick up?" And he answers without hesitation.

"Had to prove I was real, didn't I?"

The way you laugh has him grinning from ear to ear, so loud and bright and surprised, as if it's the funniest thing in the world.

"I've missed you so much, Will, so much!" You exclaim as your laughter dies down, so fond it almost hurts.

"I've missed you too -" but as he says it, the door at your end opens again, and Mark's back, insistent, almost whining, and you cheerfully tell him that you're on your way.

And you hang up without saying good bye.

Twenty minutes later on your Instagram story, not that he's following you, it's just that you happen to be at the top of his most recent searches on the app, he sees the shaky footage of yourself attempting Do I Wanna Know by Arctic Monkeys. You're grinning so damn bright it's visible even on the poor recording, singing your heart out. He gets ten seconds into the video before he feels like he's spying on something he wasn't meant to see.

Because he knows that fucking song.

Because while you were definitely drunk, he was dead sober, and is haunted by your 'picked my song right before I called you'. Maybe he won't change your contact picture just yet.

The next day, he doesn't hear anything from you, and doesn't want to risk anything, so he messages Tommy to ask if you got home okay.

[they got in at like 3am and woke me up] Tommy messages quickly, following it up with [MARK 😠left about 10 minutes ago to go look at this open house or something but Y/N is pretty hungover so she's been in the shower for the past hour wasting all the hot water]

[kind of you to recommend my music to her 😊] Wilbur adds, mostly as an afterthought, but Tommy is quick to respond to that too.

[nah she knew you made music she was just wondering if i had any favourites] then, [she said she likes Jubilee Line, i said she should move then lol].

And Wilbur wants to respond, wants to say something, but in his mind you're looking at your hands and he's looking at you.

"I didn't pick London for the school, I picked it because it was..." you trailed off, and he watches you scrunch up your whole face as you choose to not finish that particular thought. But you steel yourself, taking a deep breath and smiling bright, bright enough that it's obviously forced, and you finally look up; when you meet Wilbur's gaze, you seem almost startled, you hadn't realised he'd actually been watching you.

"It's a good school, though, I'm glad I got in, and Mark, he's- he's really sweet. It's brave of him to move, even though I'm on campus and he's not; none of his family's lived outside of Nottingham for generations," the face you're making is close to a smile, to anyone else they might mistake it as such, but there's a wrinkle in the bridge of your nose, a tightness at the edge of your smile, "he's training to go into the same line of work as his dad, he's just glad he can do it here," you laugh, but there's no humour in it. The sky was slate grey, a chill in the air that wasn't there the day before, and you'd found out a few days ago that your - former ex - boyfriend Mark had found a place in town. You say that he's good to you, but then you use the word persistent, but it hadn't quite sounded like a compliment.

And Wilbur had been fine to be just friends with you; he did like you as a person, really enjoyed your company outside of the sex. He had no idea it would be the last time the two of you would see each other for two years. You looked tired, but still tried to smile as you started digging around in your bag.

"Hey, anyways, I was thinking -" you started, and Wilbur couldn't help himself.

"Always a dangerous pass time," he muses, but was glad to see it made you smile, even if it did have it rolling your eyes.

"Har har, you're a master of comedy," you tell him with well-worn exasperation, reaching over to take his hand, "if you get a chance between your various jester activities, I finally found that poem I was talking about in the car the other day," you're carefully writing the name of the poem on the back of his hand, grinning to yourself, "it's silly, but the last stanza especially reminds me..." and you look up, capping the pen with an air of finality, "of us, I suppose. Reminds me of hanging out with you."

You Are Jeff - Siken, you've written. You look a little less tired as he fondly calls you 'a sweet, little pretentious nerd'. But he never gets around to reading it; your words wash off in the shower. He can't remember the name of the poem after that, and you aren't around to remind him.

In the present, he's feeling masochistic, and he clicks your Instagram profile again, and your latest post where you're kissing Mark's cheek by a river, announcing that you were grateful to be back in your home town. His thumb hovers over where you've tagged Mark, and he swallows his pride and follows the link, and opens the man's story.

"'cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat," you sing as the clip begins, your eyes closed. Mark had captioned the video 'my little songbird 😍' and Wilbur feels an irrational twinge of anger in his chest.

[how's your head?]

[never had any complaints before] you send, and then almost immediately unsend [ignore that lol].

[consider it ignored]

[thank you hahaha] you message, and he's pretty sure he reads some sort of relief.

[did your very long shower help?]

In response, after a few minutes, he gets a video; it's filmed in landscape, like you had been laying on your side and hadn't been bothered to sit up, pointing the camera at the door.

"Tom-bh!" You shout, with a strangely emphasised 'b' at the end, groggy, playing at being annoyed. As if on cue, Tommy trots into the room, leaning against the doorframe.

"Yes, my dear, sweet sister?" He asks, far too innocent for it to be genuine.

"You're a dirty little snitch," you tell him, voice still groggy and hoarse, and his grin gets brighter. He waves.

"Hello Wilbur," he looks at the camera, "I assume that's why you're pointing your camera at me?"

"It's a video, and I'm gonna hang out with Tubbo today," you sulked, "since he's not a snitch-" and there's a cheer from down the hall, distinctly Tubbo.

"Can't," Tommy rocked back on his heels with a smug little smile, "not unless you wanna stream with us -" The video stops abruptly.

[so are you going to stream with them?]

[wilbur i am dying] and you send it with a reasonably unflattering and exhausted selfie of you with your blanket pulled up to your ears [nobody else is allowed to see me like this especially not the internet].

[im honoured that i get to 😂] he sends back, and pretends like the idea that you'd trusted him enough to send that photo doesn't genuinely warm his heart.

The next day, Sunday, the two of you chat all day, as if with newfound enthusiasm and familiarity, and the past few weeks' hesitation seems almost entirely forgotten. He casually tells you he's streaming later if you've got time to check it out, and you tell him you know, that Tommy asked you to pick up snacks.

[mark's with his parents and our parents are out for the evening time to do delinquent things] you send a photo with that caption, of you holding the camera out far enough to catch Tommy's bed in the shot behind you and your awkward smile, where Tommy himself is sitting with his legs crossed, hunched over and looking at his phone with a bowl of chips in his lap, and a laptop on the bed near him with the waiting screen for Wilbur's twitch stream already on.

[that's cute but it'd be cuter if you subscribed] Wilbur sends back as a joke moments before he sits down at his desk. His phone buzzes as his mouse hovers over the button for his camera to go live.

[bold of you to assume i'm not] you text back. He grins widely, sending a single word, before turning his phone over to start the stream with the biggest grin.

[simp]

He doesn't see you in the chat, and he's not sure if he's glad about that or not, but as soon as he wraps up for the night and turns his phone back over, he sees a barrage of texts from you. Once you realised he wasn't looking at his texts during the stream, and therefore you wouldn't be distracting him, you'd decided to send through your running commentary, which, even with only half-remembered context on Wilbur's part, was still endearing and amusing.

Even in the few days leading up to Christmas the rate at which you're messaging each other doesn't seem to slow. Photos of hot beverages and warm meals and blurry candids of Tommy and Tubbo are sent, with a few photos of what you were doing, selfies taken with your face right in the corner so your activity could be seen behind. Wilbur, of course, responds in kind, and is sure to keep you updated with his drink tally on Christmas Eve before the stream.

"Was such a good stream!" He doesn't even bother to say hello to you when he calls after the stream, flopping back on the sofa in his basement, legs hanging over the end as it won't even fit a person of far more average height.

"That's good to hear, dude," you sound like your whispering, which he points out almost immediately.

"You're always whispering when we talk like this, like it's a secret -" but he's cut off by someone in the background of your call, asking if everything is alright. He knows that voice; Mark.

"Just a friend who's a bit tipsy, I just wanna stay on the line with them so I know they get home safe," you assured, though you're a little muffled. As you presumably uncover the receiver, before you can even speak, you both hear Mark call out that you're just talking to one of your drunk friends.

"As if you have a myriad," Wilbur rolls his eyes with barely concealed disdain.

"You heard that?" You asked weakly.

"And I heard you lie about me; I am home," he saw fit to point out. You were quiet for a very long moment, and finally, he conceded, "I shouldn't have called. It's Christmas Eve. You're probably with your family -"

"Mark's family," you corrected faintly, and a hush falls over you both, "why'd you call, Will? Can I help you with something?"

"Well, I was just drunk, and streaming, and I remembered that you called me last week when you were drunk, and also I was hanging out with Tubbo and I was like 'you know who Tubbo adores? You', so I called."

"Not to confirm if I was real?" You asked, voice betraying your fond smile.

"Oh I know you're real; if I had made you up, you wouldn't -" but Wilbur thankfully stops himself, pivots before putting his foot in his damn mouth, probably using his last shred of good sense in the process, "have fallen out of touch for so long." It sounds lame, even to his own ears, but you've only been speaking again for three weeks, which in itself is almost half the length you knew each other originally. His mouth seems hell bent on writing checks time and common sense won't allow him to cash.

"Won't happen again," you tell him with a gentle sincerity, and the conversation falls away for a moment. Then another, warm silence echoing down the line until Wilbur starts humming a half remembered tune; he likes to think you're smiling to yourself, wonders if you'd recognise it. You'd sung this very song just a week ago.

"Sweetheart, you must be freezing, please come inside," Mark's voice on the other end of the line, in your background, is all love, is all care. Wilbur stops humming.

"Be in in a minute, dear," you tell your boyfriend, tone all kinds of warm and fond. Perhaps, Wilbur's drunken mind thinks, he should afford you the same curtsey you'd shown him while drunk, and just hang up. But he doesn't.

"I figure you heard that."

"Back in to Milquetoast Mark?" He grumbles.

"I told Tommy to stop calling him that," you huffed a deep, irate sigh.

"Tommy also calls him a bitch, so I think Milquetoast is the least of Mark's worries -"

"Wilbur!"

"Sorry," Wilbur backtracks, wishing he'd bitten his tongue, "that was out of line."

"Yes, it was."

"Tommy just loves you is all."

"Tommy loves me enough to keep that shit to himself," you sniped back, and Wilbur's jaw tightened, not quite able to decipher your implications.

"Merry Christmas," he says quietly, finally.

"Merry Christmas, Wilbur," you sigh, and even after you hang up, there's almost a full minute where he lays with the phone pressed to his ear, wishing he could have said more.

And considering the frequency of messages before today, your radio silence on Christmas itself is deafening. Perhaps it's simply that you're spending time with your family, but to see you updating your Instagram story every hour or so kind of feels like you're deliberately ignoring him.

In all the photos he sees, you're wearing the sweater he knows Tommy bought for you; the kid had excitedly sent a photo, relieved that he'd actually managed to find it. You're always smiling in the photos, or laughing, or content, but you're always happy, and that, at the very least, makes Wilbur smile. He feels like a creep and a fool for getting so pressed.

In the evening, you post a single photo to your actual page, of yourself, Mark, and Tommy, lit by firelight; Mark is sitting on the floor, back against the sofa with his legs stretched out, and your head is pillowed in his lap, while Tommy, in turn, is stretched out with his head pillowed on your stomach, blonde hair bright against the sweater he bought you, his phone pressed to his chest. Your eyes are closed and your smile's content, while Mark is looking at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, the two of you holding hands, fingers laced together.

YourInstagram: as lil nas x said, ayy its a holiday (styled by tombles who im not allowed to tag but i love this sweater and this photo and he said i could post it. if u recognise him..... no u don't)

He should delete the app; at least then he'd stop compulsively checking it every five minutes.

[tom's my little brother of course he's going to have some Opinions. don't bully my boyfriend on his behalf is all im asking] he gets the text at nine at night, and though he's had a good Christmas in it's own right, with countless calls and chats with family and friends, that message from you is a nice way to end the night.

[understood] he messages back. You send a heart emoji and a few minutes later unsend it, but he sees it. He's not sure why you'd unsent it, but he's glad he had seen it at all.

And messaging continues like before, like nothing had ever happened.

So he keeps his opinions to himself because keeping in contact means more to him than asking why the brother you love so much hates the man you've been dating for years, it means more than asking why you keep calling when you're drunk and saying that you just want to hear him talking. It means more than asking about why you only see your family at Christmas and why you only call Tommy on his birthday and don't seem to text him that often while still calling him one of your best friends; it means more, but not by much, and every day wears on his resolve.

It would be out of line to ask any of those, he's so painfully aware, but you've gone back to London and Tommy's started asking him how you're going. Tubbo hasn't heard from you, your messages to Tommy are growing more and more infrequent, but somehow you're managing to message Wilbur almost every day. Something about it feels off, feels wrong -

[hey tommy's been asking if you're okay] you'd read his message three hours ago but are yet to respond. Every time his phone buzzes, his pulse jumps, despite not really knowing what answer to anticipate. But it's not you. It's never you. There's only radio silence, and he's meant to be streaming but -

[thanks for letting me know. ive messaged him. i'll try to do that more it must have slipped my mind a little now that i'm getting back to study. sorry you had to be the go between. 😅]

He's overwhelmed by a strange, unfamiliar sense of relief. Perhaps it’s because Tommy needn’t worry anymore, or maybe he’s glad for the both of you. As long as you and your brother were still in contact, Wilbur could feel some of his own concern lift. It takes him a full day, looking back, to realise exactly why he’d felt so immediately pleased by your response, but finally it hits him. You trusted him enough to believe his message conveying your own brother’s concern; it felt like respect, that you hadn’t even thought to question him on it –

“How’d you even get up there?” Wilbur’s squinting up at you, half-shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun behind you as you grin widely at him from the top of a concrete barrier by the Thames.

“’s a good view from up here,” you declare instead of answering, “not sure if I need you after all, got all the sights of London here,” and you cast your gaze behind you, out to the city on the other side of the waterway.

“You’re probably right,” Wilbur half-smiles, still vaguely concerned about your precarious vantage point, but picking up your teasing tone well enough and playing along, “I mean, I was going to skip the sights in the Thames, but you’re one swan-dive away from the best view under the river,” and without thinking, he reaches up to offer his hand as some sort of support, still not quite sure how you’d made it up onto the barrier in the first place.

“Alright, Mister W-H-S,” you laugh faintly, finally scrambling down to the footpath, taking his hand for stability as you made the final hop to solid ground. There’s something about you, something electric, the same thing that had drawn him to you in the first place last Friday night. Part of him had been nervous on his way here, that that spark would disappear in the daylight, that he’d imagined your inherent intensity and delight –

“Oh I know that one,” you interrupt his thoughts, practically bouncing along beside him, arm outstretched and pointing to a building that looked exactly like a half dozen other buildings in the vicinity, “that’s The Eye; The London Eye.” You’re so blatantly wrong that it actually takes him a moment to gather his thoughts.

“No?” His own hesitation gives you cause to grin, a dead giveaway that you’re doing a bit, and he can’t help but smile as he shakes his head. Your joy is infectious.

“You sure?”

“Like eighty percent,” he plays along, and you cast your gaze around, before pointing to another random building.

“That’s it, isn’t it?”

“You’re getting warmer,” he appears to concede, and there’s mirth amid your disbelieving laugh.

“Really?”

“No,” he snorts.

“’cos it’s Big Ben, right?” Your grin is all teeth.

“You need my help so badly,” he actually laughs, fondly jovial, though he hears you laugh too, and is surprised by the warmth that blooms in his chest at the sound. When he offers his arm, you concede that maybe you do need him around after all, looping your arm with his, happy to follow his lead.

Moments like that, like the one he found himself in now, the moments that showed the depth of your trust and respect, even if he didn’t fully feel like he’d earned it… it had been years since he’d felt this warmth in his chest. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d missed it before he’d felt it again.

His phone buzzes.

[your future hot lit professor 🍑📚💖: heu]

[your future hot lit professor 🍑📚💖: hey]

[your future hot lit professor 🍑📚💖: can i call]

It’s a Thursday evening, almost five; the warmth is disappearing, the concern is rapidly returning. He calls you first. When you pick up, your apologies are all blurring together already; it’s different this time, there’s no delight in your answering tone when you hear him asking what’s going on.

“It’s selfish- I’m selfish – you shouldn’t- I’m sorry,” you’re rambling, “it’s weird that I miss you, I think- I know - I don’t know you so I shouldn’t call you like this…” and you punctuated your messy string of thoughts with a loud groan.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, you know me,” he speaks without even thinking.

“No, I should go, I should go,” you mumbled, defeated. But there’s no dial tone. A full minute passes. You say his name so quietly, as if you’re not even sure if he’d answer, but he does, “you didn’t hang up,” is all you can think to say.

“’course I didn’t,” he says with an indescribable fondness. You won’t remember it, which is probably why he didn’t hold himself back.

“London air is grimy, ‘s all full of grit and garbage and –“ you make a rough but descriptive noise in the back of your throat, but it melts to something unhappy. Finally, you huff a sigh, “and I’m all selfish and full of grit and garbage –“

“Hey, no,” he says sharply, “come on; you know if anyone else talked about you like that Tommy would give them a solid smack, you don’t get a pass because it’s you.”

“Are you threatening to sick my own brother on me?” You asked, and though your huff of laughter sounded a little pitiful, it was still a laugh.

“If you keep talking shit about yourself,” he said with conviction, and your giggling sounds more fond than forlorn. It’s working. Finally, he asks if you’re okay. You babble with incoherent dismissal of the question for a moment before you suddenly start to make sense –

“-nd of course it’s not weird that I miss you, I know, we are friends – were friend? We’re friends now, right?“ but you didn’t give him a chance to answer, “but like, I keep thinking about wanting to see you in person and that feels weird and kind of selfish and you probably shouldn’t have picked up – I’m being weird – but I’m the one who messaged, and you’re just a good guy so of course you called when I texted–“ you cut yourself off, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, “I’m everywhere. My mind’s everywhere. The walls shout back, I didn’t realise they could do that, or start the argum- I’m not making sense. I’m sorry.”

“I’d like to see you in person,” is all Wilbur can think to say in the wake of your half-coherent rant. He has friends in London he could stay with, it’s not like he’s got a serious work schedule to adhere to, he –

“Could I come to Brighton?” Your voice is small, but there’s a note of hope, and he suddenly has an image in his head of the way you’d beam at him when he’d pick you up from the train station. He’s agreeing without even thinking, and there’s something relieved about your faint laugh. Maybe now isn’t the best time to organise this sort of thing, but neither of you seem to be able to help yourselves, suddenly excited as you ask how soon is too soon.

Smiling, Wilbur checks his calendar.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur imagine #wilbur x reader #wilbur x y/n #wilbur x you #wilbur soot #cc!wilbur #cc!wilbur soot #cc!wilbur x reader #cc!wilbur imagine #cc!wilbur soot x reader #cc!wilbur soot imagine #cyltlanp #shut ur pretty mouth

[ghostowned]

BEATRIX MORTEL ♡ THE EMPATH. 

(AMANDA CAMPANA, TWENTY TWO, DEMI WOMAN, SHE / HER ) ⮕ Hey, isn’t that [ BEATRIX MORTEL ]? I heard that they were a part of the crew. According to the wiki it says they’re the [ EMPATH ] of the group. Avid fans say that they’re [ INTUITIVE ], but that they can also be [ HEDONISTIC ]. Maybe that’s because they’re a [ PISCES ]. This gossip forum says they joined the group because of [ HER INTUITION PULLING HER TOWARDS THE GROUP ]. I wonder if that’s true. I also heard they [ DO NOT ] believe in ghosts. I wonder if their time in arcane inc will change that. ( pepper, twenty four, est.)

ABOUT THE MUN.  ooh, yuh, get it i guess !

hi, hey, hello everyone my name is pepper and i am very much writing this on three am christmas morning.... oof. but i wanted to pop by and semi quickly introduce my babey before knocking out so!! here we are!! but before we get into her, a bit about me to break the ice! my alias is inspired by the iconic duo salt and pepper and their classic song push it. i am an english major who learned how to spell passivist the other day, yes we exist. i am late to literally everything so me just showing up now,,, can we say on brand?? i am a hoe for pinterest and after i finish this intro i will probably start on bex’s pinterest board! i have never played the sims, rip, i am a hoe for pretty much all reality shows (my faves are bachelor, love island, and the cheesy netflix ones atm) and i am actually a huge scaredy cat! the last horror movie i watched was ready or not which i actually realy enjoyed but i have maybe watched? ten horror movies in my entire twenty four years of life. wild, i know. oh and i use she / her pronouns for anyone wondering! okay, now that that’s out the way, 

BIO.  being intuitive is just like... i don’t like this and no i will not elaborate

bex is actually a new muse and since she’s new to the group i still want her to have a bit of an air of mystery about her so i will not be elaborating too, too much on her backstory but 

actually a twin! i’d like to put in a wanted connection for her twin at some point because i think it’d be fun if they were both involved in the group but yeah, bex is half of a set. if you are interested in the connection hmu < 3

her and her sibling didn’t want for much at all growing up. their parents were pretty well off and so it wasn’t as if they were struggling. the worst thing about their childhood was that they often moved from city to city to support her father’s job. her dad was an author of supernatural and horror books and so he tended to go wherever the inspiration struck. so bex basically grew up in creepy houses and such! whenever her dad solved the mystery of one place nd finished his novel they would move. 

around the time that bex was six they lived in a very specific house. and when they moved from it bex found herself with this power. she is able to feel what people are feeling when she touches them or feel what someone else was feeling when she touches something that they’ve touched. think theo crain from hill house basically. it wasn’t something she was born with though, and since bex was already a pretty cheerful child with a pretty active imagination her mother tried to talk her out of the whole thing. 

bex’s mother was a child psychologist and it was with her help that bex learned that anything she thought she was feeling or seeing was just in her imagination. she was just really empathetic. and sometimes she found herself with imaginary friends. and maybe sometimes she had strange dreams, but this was all very normal. 

bex didn’t really have any choice but to believe her mom as a child. so for years she just ??? went with her powers unchecked, over stimulated and confused and scared. she didn’t deal with it well. and her parents didn’t understand. 

her dad found it fascinating though. wrote a whole book about her. it quickly became a best seller, and bex, his inspiration, pretty quickly became a bit of a celebrity in the horror novelist community. even bex, who absolutely loved attention, hated the whole thing. but she was too young for anyone to listen to her. 

suffice to say, the moment that bex turned eighteen she dipped. specifically she left to go to university. she studied up and got a bachelors degree in architecture. she is planning to get her masters next because she’s really passionate about her field, but well she stumbled into arcane first. 

it was completely by accident honestly. one day she was just living her life as normally as her life tended to get. and the next moment she saw one of their videos. and it was like everything clicked into place at once. she tried to ignore it, she really did, but it wasn’t long until she was seeing them everywhere. until she found herself drawing the arcane inc logo absently in the margins of her notes, or dreaming about the group at night, or mumbling lines of their show to herself when she was meant to be distractedly humming. it was weird, like really weird, and again bex would have brushed it off as nothing, but i imagine that at some point she actually saw them irl. maybe they reached out to her due to one of her father’s novels and bex likely having lived in that house before, or maybe she stumbled upon them completely coincidentally, but bex might not believe in ghosts but she sure believes in the universe. and who is she to say no to what the universe so obviously wants? details tbd sdkjsd

so here she is! having a good time in her gap year between uni and grad school. i’d say she’s been here since?? june of this year and she’s still going strong. she is still a bit skeptical about some things but she’s having a good time anyways. 

HEADCANNONS.  are my prophetic visions a joke to you

is she a mix of all the characters in hill house,,, maybe so 

for someone so smart bex is also dumb. she still thinks that for the most part she’s really empathetic, like yeah she can touch something and tell you how the last person who touched that thing felt but * bex vc * is it really that big of a deal? i mean it’s basically a party trick dkldsklds honestly bex’s mother just really got into her head a child, but she is prety sensitive to things like touch. tends to get cold really easily in places with spiritual energy so catch her wrapped up like nothing else (tends to always have her sweater over her hands in those places). the type to stick to you like glue and touch you like crazy when you’re in a good mood and keep a good distance away from you when you’re in a bad one. she’s pretty good at comforting and cheering people up, but she will not touch you when you are in a bad mood for the most part cause she doesn’t want those vibes?? gets super caught up in other people’s emotions sometimes, and her own and they all tend to blend together. like if you have a crush on someone and you’re in your feels about it and bex touches you she’s like damn do i have a crush on them? do i have a crush on you? are we about to KISS right now? and she will kiss you then tbh she’s big dumb sometimes smh. this is how she gets herself into trouble. 

in love with love and falls in love often and deeply. like she feeds off her partners emotions a lot too so bex is an a plus girlfriend tbh. things never work out though as bex’s partners usually think things are too intense or bex like feels the slightest inkling that they might want to break up with her and dumps them before they can get the chance, rip 

inspired by this tiktok tbh!

bex is also a diver and has been since she was young, and this is inspired by this tiktok

bisexual!

very fun and easy to get along with honestly. almost always has good vibes. if bex is sad she will simply find someone in a good mood and cling to them for a bit. very hot and cold tbh, like she does not explain why she avoided you a bit for a few days and suddenly wants to hold your hands like rip to the crew sdkjsdk

will respond to any nickname! i put trixie on the app but bex, trixie, bee, beck, trick, bea, and any other nickname will be accepted. bex loves nicknames cause they make her feel closer to people so if your muse wants to give her a nickname,,,, please do 🥺

will do anything to make herself feel good. all feelings are overwhelming for her, especially when she has to take other people’s feelings into account too so she tends to try and enjoy herself at all costs and she is a big fan of the little things. sleeping in, sex, dr*gs, drinking, like blowing bubbles, food, anything that is fun and makes you feel good, bex is into and will do over anything serious any day. 

an extrovert. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS. i can’t talk right now, i’m doing hot girl shit. * summons a malevolent demon *

an ex on bad terms, her twin, an fwb, an ewb, a close friend in the group, someone she has a crush on maybe or vice versa, someone who’s good vibes bex is constantly seeking out, someone who hates her omg, a smoking buddy, someone she formed an instant bond with, a sibling like relationship, a childhood friend she’s reunited with, a fan of her father’s novels, a confidante, someone who makes her feel safe when things get to be a bit too much for her, someone she regularly cheers up, someone bex hates? 

#arcaneintro #god...... finally done #b.m. | intro. #b.m. | bio.

[cafsunwoo-blog]

hello~! it’s ur stressed 2 the max,, sleep deprived girl here !! my name’s haylee ( she/her ), nd one time i drank 4 americanos during a shift at work ( it was near christmas ok ) ,,, 3/10 do not recommend. i’m trash at introductions, but below u’ll find some quick info abt sunwoo ! he’s a work in progress so pls be kind 2 both me nd him ;; we’re trying our best ! also i don’t have a bio / connections page set up yet, but they will b very soon ! still feel free to hmu if u want 2 plot ok,, chances r i’ll lov u forever if u do. okok [ jimin vc ] gOODbye

biography related ; tw mentions of nsfw stuff,, ( he’s a camboy oopS )

sunwoo was born in san francisco !! he grew up alongside his older brother -- they’re three years apart. his parents were relatively conservative, but for the most part they let sunwoo do his own thing ! they actually put more ‘ effort ’ into raising his older brother, and with his success, anything sunwoo did kind of went unnoticed. sunwoo realized this rather early on, n he decided life was too short to try living up to all that his brother was doing, u know ? it wasn’t like his grades were terrible n he was a bad kid -- his grades were average n he snuck out only a few times ! he was a ‘ typical kid™ ’

when he was seven, sunwoo had his first asthma attack ; it scared him bc before then, he wasn’t even aware he had asthma ?? he just thought he was a healthy kid. he remembers his chest feeling really tight nd coughing a lot n looking v pale -- he was trembling when his friend took him to the school nurse, but that’s about all he can recall. he was taken to the doctor’s and was diagnosed with asthma and due to his forgetful nature,, sunwoo didn’t often take his medication, n his condition worsened :// he uses an inhaler now, n goes out of his way 2 avoid things that trigger his asthma bc he’s smartened up a bit 

sunwoo had trouble holding down jobs tbh,, n one night when he was scrolling through random websites,, he stumbled across a cam site ( don’t ask him how ! ) nd he ended up becoming really fixated on the idea of performing in front of a camera,, pleasuring not only himself but giving pleasure 2 others -- just through a screen. he managed 2 set up his laptop in a way that he only filmed his body, nd before he knew it, sunwoo was performing his own show 4 a small audience ?? ( he was eighteen at the time ! ) he made sure 2 keep his face hidden -- tho as he grew more comfortable,, he switched from hiding his face entirely, to wearing a mask that concealed the lower half of his face !! that allowed 4 a more personal experience in his opinion ?? soon enough his audience grew, nd he’d be lying if he said the praise didn’t please him ! that nd the money’s wonDERFUL ? 

his family moved 2 south korea when he was nineteen ( v close to twenty ! ) basically bc his mother’s sister fell gravely ill, nd they wanted 2 be around her nd spend time with her while the could. sunwoo didn’t mind, he wasn’t in school at the time n he skypes his friends all the time anyway, so he adjusted fairly quickly. he just struggles with the language a lot,, but he’s learning !! he did start attending school when he moved to korea tho, nd is currently majoring in astrology ! his brother was the only one who didn’t move to korea btw,, he’s still attending uni in the us -- he’s training 2 be a doctor bc he wants to save people ! 

personality related 

they’re super friendly nd love talking 2 people nd making friends ! they can b a little cocky tho, so pls feel free 2 put him in his place !! 

he likes 2 sleep in a lot, and drinks a LOT of coffee -- his blood’s probably made up of caffeine rn ? but he HATES the taste of black coffee,, he needs a loT of sugar in his coffee 2 make it taste good 

he keeps his cam job a secret ; so far no one’s caught on / brought it up in public, n he intends to keep it that way !! 

he’s lowkey jealous of his brother but won’t admit 2 it,, at least he won’t admit 2 it seriously !! he’ll say it out loud but in v mocking ways 

his aesthetic consists of a lot of plaid, roses, ripped jeans nd rings 

also plots / connections dont have 2 be smutty just bc of his profession,, if anything, he’s a lil awkward n unsure of himself sometimes,, n doesn’t really hook up w ppl often ?? he’s the type that wants 2 get 2 know people beforehand ! tho he’ll say pick up line after pick up line bc he thinks he’s reaL funny ( he’s basically aLL talk u feel ? )

#pls click the g in goodbye im !! #also hello ! im probably leaving smth out bc i always tend to do that rip #but aHHHhh im excited~ #✧*. — ⟨ no don't preach to me | ooc. ⟩