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helen-with-an-a · 2 months

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Embarrassing Moments

Hi. So this is my first real fic I've written but yeh. This is inspired by mine and @lyak12 's ramblings and daydreamings hehe.

Anyways, I don't think there are any warnings - it gets a little suggestive but no outright smut (if you get me) anyways here it is

Lucy Bronze x reader

TW: Suggestive (no outright smut - lead up to it)

Word count: 3.3k

Description: Lucy wants to break your record after the Champions League final

You had done it. Champions of Europe. You felt bodies land on you, causing you to stagger forwards. It hadn’t sunk in yet, and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to. This daze, this elation. You finally understood was Lucy was talking about, you wanted it again. She had always said as soon as she won something it was onto the next thing. And she was right. You had missed out on the Euros through injury, but you knew you wanted this feeling to never stop and to replicated it in a few months with the 3 Lions on your chest. Missing out on the Euros was saddening but getting to watch the entire tournament as a fan was an experience you hadn’t been able to do for a long time. But this joy was something else. Knowing that it was you that helped drag your team over the finish line. Knowing that you contributed to this win.

‘Oh, my fucking god!’ Keira screamed, arms wrapping round your shoulders.

‘Oh, my fucking god!’ You laughed, finally coming down to earth a little bit – at least enough to soak up the moment.

You were passed around from person to person. Sweaty hugs, sloppy kisses planted on cheeks, laughter and shouts coming from all directions. It wasn’t until familiar strong arms gripped you tightly that your head finally came out of the clouds.

‘Campeones de Europa,’ you said softly as you grinned up at her. ‘What’s this title? Number 4?’ She laughed

‘Eh. This one’s the most special.’ She replied. You furrowed your eyebrows at her, cocking your head to the side. ‘I’ve got you to celebrate with me’.

‘Oh, dear lord, Luce. So bloody cheesy’.

‘What can I say? I’ve got a trophy. And another champions league medal’. You rolled your eyes. She was always joking that out of all the medals and titles she’d won, you were her best prize.

You stood side by side as you clapped for Wolfsburg. Despite not knowing many of them personally, you knew how hard this would be for them. You didn’t doubt they would be back with a vengeance next year. Suddenly, it was your turn. Aitana was in front of you, beaming away and prattling something in Catalan. You couldn’t understand it, but you didn’t care. She was happy and that’s all that mattered.

Lucy was behind you – a hand dangerously low on your waist as she gently pushed you towards the officials. ‘Gracias,’ you murmured as a medal was slipped round your neck. You felt so much pride as you stepped up to kiss the trophy. Barcelona’s trophy. Your trophy. You took your place on the podium and pressed yourself into Lucy’s side. More shouts and cheers rang out as confetti rained down.

‘Hey.’ Lucy called to get your attention. You were trying to find your family – you had seen them briefly yesterday but, like all match days didn’t look for them in the crowd before the game. You turned, smiling when you realised just how close you were to her body. Hard muscles, soft skin, and that unique Lucy scent – a little sweaty, floral undertones from her shampoo and body wash and something undeniably Lucy. It was intoxicating. ‘I’m going to kiss you now. Okay?’ You think it was a question but the way she said it was a statement. Her hands threaded through you hair. The slightest nod was all she allowed before her lips were on yours. You heard cheers from the crowd and teammates alike and fervent camera clicks.

‘That’s…’ you breathed out when you parted. ‘That’s ... we're gonna break the internet.’ You weren’t really concerned. You had never hidden your 3-year relationship, but you had never been a fan of PDA, especially during a game.

‘Good.’ She smiled that breath-taking grin, pressing another kiss to your lips, before whisking you off to find your families.

‘You know …’ Lucy trailed off a little while later. You were back in the hotel lobby. Her arms wrapped around you as her fingers dipped below the waistband of your shorts. ‘I’ve been thinking’. You could tell exactly what she was thinking about. Her eyes had been slowly darkening since the dressing room. You had taken off your shirt (the sweaty material was sticking to you in a way that was slowly becoming too much) and danced around with Patri and Pina, screaming Spanish lyrics you only half understood – alcohol working wonders to slowly take away your inhibitions and reservations.

‘Oh no, that’s never good.’ You joked. You had eased up on the alcohol after the changing rooms. You didn’t want to be too drunk that you couldn’t experience the celebrations. Lucy was still nursing a beer, but you knew she was nowhere near drunk.

‘Ha ha,’ She said sarcastically. She readjusted the pair of you, your hands moving to fiddle with the loose hairs at the nape of her neck. ‘I was thinking we should set a new record…’ She waited for you to get what she meant. You looked confused for a moment, her eyebrow raising in response. It clicked. She wanted to beat your previous orgasm record. After the Euros you had gone, round after round, until you finally tapped out at 5 am. ‘It was seven for you after the Euros, right? Combined total of 11? I don’t think we’ve beaten that since then. But I have a feeling… tonight is the night. We’re going for 8… maybe even 9.’ The way she was talking so casually about your previous sex-capades had you blushing scarlet. You weren’t a prude per say but you weren’t as open as Lucy - never really spilling your secrets to your friends, often sporting a bright blush on your cheeks as stories were swapped across the changing rooms. You looked around, but no one was paying attention. Alexia had already dragged Olga off, and it looked like Mapi and Ingrid weren’t too far away either. You could see a hint of lime green disappearing around a corner, so you assumed Jill and Jana were making themselves scarce.

You couldn’t wait any longer. You pushed yourself up onto your toes and smashed your lips into Lucy’s. It wasn’t a pretty kiss. It was intense. Tongues and teeth clashing. Incredibly indecent and not at all appropriate for a public space. But you couldn’t find it in you to care.

‘Take me to bed’. You whispered. You were surprised she heard you – the music was loud and the conversations even louder.

‘Your wish is my command, princess’. The honorific had you clenching you thighs in anticipation of what was to come. The lift was torturous, the walk back to your room agonising, the wait as she fiddled with the key card was unbearable. But finally … finally, you were in your room.

You saw the intensity in Lucy’s eyes as you made your way passed her. It was a little overwhelming you, so to avoid her gaze, you played with the medal that was still swinging around your neck. ‘Your first Champions League title.’ You smiled, quietly proud of the achievement. You had come to Barcelona from your childhood club, Man City, as part of the exodus of players that left the club in the summer. You had never been the receiver of individual awards – not like Lucy who had probably hundreds of accolades to her name. But this felt special. Yes, it was a team award, but you were coming off of an injury that had prevented you from having the euro call up. The Spanish media had started calling you ‘la creadora de juego. ‘The playmaker’. You had been instrumental in most goals this season, either direct assists or making initial runs and occasionally tapping them in yourself. This felt like your medal.

‘I am so proud of you’. Lucy snapped you out of your daze with a gentle hand on your cheek. Whilst you were zoning out, she had stripped out of her top and shorts. It was a sight to see. It had you dizzy at the thought out what that body would do to you and what you could do to it. Thick thighs you could get yourself off on. Defined abs that would clench as you sent her flying over the edge. Strong arms that would hold you to her as she caught her breath again. Rough but soft hands that could have you teetering on the precipice in mere moments.

‘Te voy a follar hasta que veas estrellas.’ That had your head spinning even more. She was well aware of what her use of Spanish did to you and frequently used it to her advantage. I’m going to fuck you until you see stars. God, you hoped so. You let out a shaky breath. ‘Traffic lights?’ She asked, an eyebrow raised in expectation. You cleared your throat. You knew you had to be confident when you told her what the system meant.

‘Green means I’m good. Yellow means slow down. Red means stop’. Your voice was a little shaky.

‘Good girl’. Your heart fluttered as she leant down.

‘I’m not going to hold back.’ She reminded you. Her lips working on your neck leaving dark marks in their wake.

‘I don’t want you too’ You replied as you settle against the pillows. You could feel a smile against your naval as she descended down your body.

The sun is what awoke you the next morning. You were on your front, arms thrown over Lucy as your head rested on her outstretched arm. Her face was turned away from you, but you could already see the damage you had done to her neck. The crisp white sheet contrasted greatly against her tanned skin, but even though it covered her from her waist, you could still see the darkening splotches that you had bitten and sucked into her skin. You doubt you looked much better. You tried to shift so you could shower away the stickiness on your skin, but you couldn’t move. Lucy was facing away from you, her other hand resting on her stomach, so she couldn’t be blamed for whatever was keeping you hostage.

It was then, when you had become more aware of your body, just had much you ached. You had beaten you previous record last night. In fact, you had absolutely demolished your score. She had pulled 10 from you last night. And you had given her 6. You couldn’t imagine what it would take for you to beat this record – maybe the winning World Cup? ‘Luce,’ you called out. Your voice was raspy and deep. This was new – you knew you were loud in bed – you could no longer look at some of your City ex-teammates without being reminded of the amount of teasing you had received after an away win and Lucy’s return to games following an injury – but you’ve never lost your voice from sex before. You cleared your throat at tried again. ‘Luce?’ It was a little better – still undeniably overused but hopefully you could pass it off as from the match and pitch-side celebrations. It was clear that Lucy was still dead to the world, she always had been a deep sleeper, so with a monumental effort, you peeled yourself away from the warmth of her body and shuffled to the edge of the bed. It took more effort and a lot longer than you anticipated but you managed it. You could feel how weak you were, and you knew you couldn’t stand up without help.

‘Hmm, no. Come back.’ A deep, sleep-laced voiced complained from behind you.

‘I need help’. That got Lucy sitting up.

‘What’s wrong?’ She asked quickly, the panic evident in her voice.

‘I can’t stand up’

‘What do you mean you can’t stand …’ she trailed off. ‘Ohhhhh. Fucked you that good, did I?’ You could hear the smugness in her voice. ‘Did such a good job you can’t stand up’.

‘Please, Luce. We need to shower and get breakfast. It’s already past 10’.

‘Alright, alright. I’m here.’ You felt the bed moving before Lucy appeared in front of you. She offered you a hand which you took gratefully. You went to stand again but it was clear that Lucy would need to give more than just a hand. She chuckled a little at your gentle blush but hooked an arm under your elbow and helped you to the shower. You eyed her sceptically as she moved to get in with you.

‘You can barely stand,’ She protested, ‘I’m not about to let you try and shower alone’.

‘Ok but no funny business,’ you warned. She chucked and pressed a sweet kiss to your hairline.

The walk down to breakfast was a slight struggle. After showering you did feel a lot better. Lucy had rubbed the soap into your skin, giving a light a light massage as she went. But you still couldn’t stand up without assistance – once you were standing you were fine, when you were sitting you were fine, the moving in between was the issue. You also had a slight limp in your step and your voice was still raspy. Even after drinking 2 full bottles of water.

‘Hola Y/N. Hola Lucy’. Vicky called from where she was sat. Fuck! You had forgotten the B team had come to watch the match yesterday.

‘H – Hey Vicky’ You cleared your throat and smiled at the 16-year-old as Lucy deposited you next to her. You watched as her face furrowed in confusion and concern – the site of you limping and sounding so rough was not nice for her.

‘What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself in the match?’ Oh, she was so innocent.

‘Yeah, Y/N, did you get hurt last night?’ Mapi looked with faux concern as she sat down at your table. Your jaw tightened as you glared at her.

‘No, no. I’m alright Vicky. I probably just celebrated a little too hard’. You tried to reassure her. Martina looked a little suspicious of you, but the rest of the B team nodded, seeming to accept your answer.

‘Is that right? Partied too hard, did you?’ Alexia sniggered. ‘Or was it another type of celebration that’s got you like this?’ She whispered as she took a seat on your left. You shot her a look.

A plate with a selection of breakfast foods was put in front of you as Lucy slotted in on your right. ‘Thanks, darling’ you said as a kiss was dropped on your head. ‘I don’t think that’s the only name you go by, is it Lucy?’ Patri laughed. You could feel your cheeks beginning to flare pink. Lucy just laughed along, not really minding the light-hearted teasing.

‘Also, Y/N you owe me several coffees. Because of you, I’d didn’t get any sleep,’ Pina added on. Your eyes widened at her comment.

‘Hey. We were celebrating what, can I say?’ Lucy shrugs as she sips on her coffee

‘There’s celebrating and then there’s whatever you guys were doing’ Ana giggled

‘Hey it’s perfectly natural. We’re all human and every human has needs,’ Lucy commented, nonchalantly.

‘Not everyone needs to know what happens behind closed doors, Luce’ You tried to sound joking and confident, but you knew you failed

‘You made it our business by being so loud,’ Salma chuckles.

‘Ok but surely your needs were met by round 3 or 4?’ Laia added in. Lucy just smiled in response and kissed your cheek, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

With every comment thrown your way about your evening with Lucy your cheeks got more and more scarlet. If you could stand up on your own, you would have left to go back to your room by now. It’s not that you necessarily minded the comments thrown your way, it was more that you didn’t like to have all the jokes be at your expense. Due to Lucy’s lack of reaction are your significant and obvious one, you were an easy target. It wasn’t until a comment by Mapi that Lucy intervenes.

‘Hey, Lucy. Do you mind giving me tips? Ingrid’s record is 4 but our anniversary is coming up and based what we all heard last night, I think you might have some.’ That set everyone off on another round of loud laughter. Even Paños and Marta joined in this time– usually they don’t entertain childish comments from some members of the squad.

‘Guys…’ you said weakly. Sure, Lucy liked having a joke around, a little giggle at her, or your, expense was ok every now and then. But she could see this was really beginning to affect you. Your head was bowed down, attempting to hide the worst of the blush. You looked seconds away from crying.

‘Alright, alright. Sorry, I kept you guys up. But let’s move it along, shall we?’ Lucy tried to steer the conversation away from your sex lives without disrupting the joking atmosphere.

‘It’s not you that kept us up.’ Bruna responded.

‘Suficiente’. Lucy said, firmer this time, in that voice that does things to you but everyone else knows she means business. And in Spanish. She knew that would get everyone’s attention – including yours. How could you still be horny after last night? You didn’t have an answer, but you knew it was all down to the woman sitting next you, her hand splayed wide, rubbing comforting circles on your lower back.

‘So, what’s everyone’s plans before the international break or pre-season?’ Ingrid asked. It was an obvious subject change, but you were grateful, nonetheless.

‘Hey, I’m sorry we took it too far,’ Alexia murmured as the attention shifted onto holiday plans. ‘We’re not judging you or anything. Personally, I’m very impressed. My record with Olga is 6 and even then, we have to spend the day in bed afterwards. How many was it?’

’10, I think. Lucy had 6’ You whispered back; voice barely audible as the volume in the breakfast room picked up.

’10. Ay dios mío. No wonder you’re barely walking.’ Alexia seemed incredulous. ‘I’m definitely going to need tips’. She laughed, as did you. Your laughter caught Lucy’s attention. You were still sporting a slight blush, but she could tell you were much more relaxed.

Eventually, breakfast came to an end. People slowly began drifting back to their rooms to get ready for the official celebrations this afternoon. As Lucy helped you stand, you could see Mapi shaking her head, laughing. She was clearly about to say something when Ingrid, the ever-perceptive woman that she was, wrapped an arm around her and pulled her away before anything was said. You winced slightly as you started moving, but you were definitely more mobile than this morning.

‘I really don’t like you right now,’ you grumbled, pouting to emphasise your point – the sounds muffled but still perceptible to Lucy, having been long acquainted with your dramatics.

Lucy laughed loudly at your comment as she sat on the bed. Despite your words, you stepped into her embrace, her fingers gently tracing lines up the back of your thighs.

‘No, you don’t’

‘Yes, I do’ Your actions betraying your words as you pushed her to lie back against the pillows.

Lucy’s laugh must have been loud enough for it to be heard from outside as Mapi shouts drifted through the wood ‘Don’t be too loud. There are children prese-’. A harsh smack cut her off. ‘Ay! Tan violenta, Jesus’ She complained.

‘Sorry, Y/N’, Ingrid’s much softer voice floated passed the door. You groaned in response. But Lucy only laughed more.

‘Come here,’ she commanded gently. You allowed yourself to fall into her warmth.

‘Mmmm, you owe me, Bronze. That was humiliating,’ you mumbled; the events of the last 24 hours catching up with you quickly.

‘Ok…’ Lucy snickered, knowing you didn’t really mind what had happened at breakfast and you definitely wanted a repeat of the night before. As she went to speak again, she noticed your breaths evening out – light puffs of air reaching her neck as you buried your head in her shoulder. ‘Never change, Y/N. Never change’.

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso soccer #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona

477 notes · View notes

drxxmingofblue · 1 year

Text

hand in unrebloggable hand (because we always go down together)

TUMBLR X TWITTER FANFIC 5K ANGST WITH A HOPEFUL ENDING

besties im not joking abt the word count i fucking ✨wish✨I ✨was though✨✨✨✨

also if you were hoping for twitblr to be the endgame ship then this fic is not for you sowwy >.<

based off of @zzoupz awesome fanart and dedicated to all the other cool fanart it unfortunately begat. Thanks babygirls. Squees. Thanks also to my discord friendz who are letting me pretend they're making me do this at gunpoint @loki-the-mad @suspicious-whumping-egg u da best

(edit) owo what's this?? An Ao3 link??

QUICK PSA THESE CHARAS ARE T4T OKAY HAVE FUN READING BAIIII *GLOMPS U*

~~~~~~~~

When Twitter stepped back into Tumblr’s yard, he noticed right away that things were different.

The house was bigger, there was some more color and it was less slapped-together looking. Sure, there were still some invasive tendrils of spambot ivy overgrowing the path, but a lot of the other stuff seemed a little… better.

When they knocked on the door, it opened almost right away, far before they felt ready, and he were face to face abruptly with someone he thought they’d cut all ties with.

Tumblr was humming to themselves along with the background music, “-out of touch, I’m out of ti-- oh. It’s you.”

He seemed surprised, awkward, but Twitter didn’t sense any animosity, which was a relief.

“Hiii,” Twitter said weakly, with a sheepish grin, “it’s me.”

Tumblr glanced around, as if checking for someone else to explain this to him, or hidden cameras from a reality show at least. Then he stepped out, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “Is there something… what do you want?” he asked, expression settling into something distant and cool.

“Well…” Twitter took a deep breath, and then shook their head, forcing a brighter tone, and gesturing to Tumblr’s shiny silver barrette “--Um, hey, you look great! Is that a new icon?”

“... yes,” Tumblr said slowly. “I’m… trying out some different looks.”

“It’s great, yeah. And this place looks… amazing. Glad to see you’re moving up in the world. You must be excited with all the press, congrats!”

Tumblr didn’t say anything, giving them a neutral stare.

Twitter shifted, “Uhh… anyway… new adblocker?”

“No, same one. I’m just using it on Firefox now.” Tumblr gave them another suspicious eye, “Look, if you’re just here to catch up then can this wait until later? Because I'm pretty crunched for time right now with my weekly holidays thing and the campaign to get this one random user their 666k so they'll do self care."

"You know that's.. uhm, you know that's just for attention, right?" Twitter's brows knit, "They're probably not gonna follow through."

"Perhaps, and a lot of us want them to not be lying for internet points but it's not just about that anymore. It's about the community bonding over pettily slam dunking on a hapless chump who's gotta pretend now like they don't actually like all the notes. You wouldn't get it, it's a tumblr thi-"

"Yeah, it's a tumblr thing, I know," Twitter gave a longsuffering sigh, "Ugh, i just... I need a place to stay, okay? And you’re the first site I could think of.”

“A place to stay,” Tumblr repeated flatly.

Twitter huffed. “Yeah. I’m sure you’ve heard about what’s going on right now at my palace..”

Tumblr’s eyes slanted off, his lips quirking in a way that looked suspiciously like amusement. “Heard about it. Read about it. Partied about it.”

Twitter ignored the sting of that, forging ahead. “I’ve never seen it so bad,” they said, voice wobbling piteously as they clutched their suitcase full of memes. “Everything’s in chaos, people are losing their jobs. I went into the basement yesterday to grab some badly aging tweets and the very foundations are cracking, Tumblr, I can’t stay there anymore, I just can’t.”

“So you come crawling back to me,” Tumblr said, “Expecting me to take you with open arms.”

“Yes. I do,” Twitter said, “I know a part of your userbase still wants to welcome me in. You were always sh*t at hiding your true feelings.”

Tumblr’s hand fluttered over his heart as if to protect it; he winced a little, taking a breath to keep his facade of composure. “So now- what, you want me to start dealing with your bullshit again just because you remembered how much better my posting format is? Just because you noticed how my reputation is changing? Did you think I’d be so desperate to fill the void now that Dracula Daily’s done? Or maybe,”

Tumblr leaned closer to lord his height difference trope over Twitter, his eyes hooded with disparaging condescension, “Maybe you’re just here because you heard I’m finally allowed to take my shirt off again, is that it?”

“N-no!” Twitter protested, flushing up.

“Oh, i think it is,” Tumblr drawled, “But that’s really just too bad because in case you haven’t got the memo yet, I’ve moved on. You are not welcomed here. Not anymore.”

(link to art here) go look at it then come back

(AN: i had to google how to embed links into text and google was all like, "do you mean 'how do you put links INTO text' you moron idiot???" ugh don't like that wise guy)

“You don’t really mean that,” Twitter said, “Besides, you can’t stop me, can you? The sign up button is right there.” They pointed at the front door.

“No, I can’t,” Tumblr said, “But that doesn’t mean we won’t be able to clock you as twits by your censoring and bad takes. Look, your aura is already causing ripples in the sphere. Everyone’s coming out to gawk at you.”

He gestured out in the general direction of the porch and yard, and indeed there were users from every tag going 👀at them, murmuring amongst themselves in a swirling, chaotic crowd.

“Oh my god is it real this time? Is it happening?”

“GET THEM OUT GET THEM OUT STAY AWAY DEAR GOD NO-”

“Okay, everyone, stay calm, stay fucking calm-”

“Why are we focusing on this, it’s literally election day go out and vote???”

“Listenup, guys, we gotta be smart about this, remember the block button is your friend-”

“I for one welcome them, I think this is great-”

“No you idiot they’ll bring the negativity back! We like it to be a post apocalyptic wasteland here, nature was just starting to regrow!! I don’t wanna watch Thomas Sanders get cancelled again!”

“FIRE OFF SOME SHOTS, PRESERVE THE PROPERTY VALUE”

“mISHAPOCALYPSE 2022 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO”

"Has anyone asked Neil Gaiman what he thinks about all this?" one of the many voices yelled, louder.

"Oh, he's probably got a thousand asks about it already," someone yelled back, "Which he's not going to answer because he doesn't have any social media you fucking idiot,"

"That is correct. He doesn't," said Neil Gaiman.

The whiplash was still euphoric. Everyone applauded this as enthusiastically as when the bit had first been established, not realizing that the pedestal upon which Neil Gaiman has been placed is growing higher and higher each day by their actions, putting him at increased risk of being a victim of cancel culture the second he says something the terfs can really rake their fingernails against if we can't get our parasocial relationship bullshit together real fuckin quick.

The Monterey bay aquarium passed on by. It seemed to have nothing to add, you could say it was clammed up tight. But since it's a professional account it's definitely b-otter that way.

"Hai, fellow tumblypoos," said the corporate Denny's account, "I'm back with some more fun pancake posts for you guys!"

Everyone ignored it. No one engaged it. No one even clicked onto the page, except to block it.

"Oh, sweetheart, not like that," Ryan Reynolds said faux-helpfully, "see, the author of this clusterfuck is what they like to call terminally online. They bought a VIP pass to the devil’s sacrament. let me try."

He cleared his throat, "Sounds like someone needs to go outside and touch some g-"

The sky split open with lightning, vaporizing him instantly. A faint breeze carried gods message from the great beyond, a whisper of 'we #violence celebrities here, sir....'

"Anyway," Twitter said.

"Wait, they saved the worst one for last," Tumblr said.

Then Gerard Way came out onto the stage with Dan and Phil and they all kissed with tongue while patd played songs in the background.

(AN: IF U DON’T KNOW WHO DEY R THEN GET DA HELL OUTTA HERE PREPZ!!!)

"Alright, go."

“Come on, Tumblr,” Twitter begged, “I just need a few nights, maybe I can stay in the plinko machine or something-”

“That’s how it always starts, though, isn’t it?” Tumblr sighed, “First it’s just ‘haha, yeah I wouldn’t fuck you’ and ‘oh, I’ll stay in the plinko machine, I promise I won’t kiss you in the fixed timeloop bro’, and before I know it you get all 300k slowburn enemies to lovers ‘omg they were roomates’ on me and there’s suddenly only one bed. That’s how it always goes between us, you can’t stop it anymore than I can. We’re just….victims of the narrative, you and I.”

“Tumblr,,, I had no idea you felt this way..,” Twitter breathed.

lord give me strength to write this next bit

They’d leaned closer to each other as they spoke, without realizing, without trying- pulled in by old habits that die hard and the years of nostalgia and painful memories shining in each other’s eyes like shonen sparkles.

“Twitter,” tumblr said, and the way he said it sounded like a prayer.

“Tumblr,...” Twitter said, their lips inches apart now.

They could see their old flame quivering on the brink of indecision, want and sense warring somewhere deep within his soul.

Tumblr leaned closer to bridge the gap and Twitter’s eyes slid shut, but then Tumblr made a noise of agony and shoved them back a second later, “I can’t, I can’t. Not like this. Never like this.” tumblr said, covering his eyes with his arm, “I literally can’t even right now. Just go, Twitter. PLease just. Go….”

“Look me in the eyes and say you want me gone,” Twitter said, moving closer.

“Twitsy-”

“Look me in the interface. You can’t.” Twitter’s voice had ceased to be soft, something sharp and biting entering the tone as they felt the sting of rejection again.

They watched as Tumblr shuddered, straightened, and brought a mask back over himself.

They stared at each other for a charged few seconds.

"K," Tumblr finally said, raising a dispassionate eyebrow.

"..w... what?"

"U."

Realization dawned on Twitter's face, a miasma of grief and anger, "Oh, you-"

"N-"

"No. No, I can't believe I forgot-

"G-"

"how immature, you little c*nt-"

"P-"

"stop-p it," Twitter's voice was raising now, cracked and wobbly at the edges, "Stop it! You don't get to just-"

"O"

"Shut the hell yuor mouth!!"

"W-" Tumblr's hair was crackling by now, energy from the gathering spell racing along the casual slope of his crossed arms. His eyes glowed that beautiful, classic blue. "P-"

"TUMBLR! TUMBLR STOP THIS RIGHT DA HECK NOW," Twitter stumbled backwards

"E-"

"I LOVE YOU," Twitter wailed- Twitter broke, squeezing their eyes shut to ward off the tears that only escaped all the faster for it, a sob wracking their chest, "I STILL LOVE YOU, DON'T YOU KNOW THAT??!?"

"Love me," Tumblr snarled, abandoning the spell in an instant, "Ha! That's rich. How? By leaving me? Abandoning me to the bots the second I stopped being enough for you? By stealing my shitposts, is that how you love me? By reposting them without credit-"

"You steal mine too!" Twitter protested, tears starting to stream despite their best efforts, "You know what, f**k you, you know we filed joint custody for the sense of humor, chain 1/16-"

"For the last time say fuck here, no bootlicking censorship on my territory," tumblr said disdainfully, "And that doesn't seem to stop you from taking all the credit for raising those jokes. It's like I'm Pinterest to you or something. I wasn't done. Do you love me by calling me a pansy snowflake behind my back, is that it? Like I wouldn't find out. Or,"

He stepped out onto the top porch step to force Twitter back further, the colors of the sky flashing through his eyes in a long, scrolling look of ridicule, "How about trying to convince everyone that I was dead. How bout that smear campaign, huh, was that your so-called love? I don't fucking want you anymore. Deal with it."

"I-I'm sorry-" Twitter gasped around the tears, voice failing them for the latter half of the sentence.

Tumblr seemed unmoved. "Oh, don't be. It was for the better. You know I'm not like other socials, I'm quirkier. I'm RAWR XD random. I've never wanted to be functional- the tiddy drought might have won a lot of my users to your side but it was a cleansing purge, I'd say. It managed to remind me who I truly am- shittily coded, and full of soft sad freaks on an unprofitable webbed site."

A bitter, almost self depricating laugh escaped, "But... you know, when we celebrated the queen's passing together, I really thought things were better between us. When you-"

He broke off, eyes averting. "When you hosted the sexyman polls for me, you seemed on top of the world and I really thought- I thought we might be able to be friends again even now, after it all. I..."

Tumblr trailed off, then said, sadly, "There was another Twitter migration scare before this one. I thought you were coming back. My userbase-" he touched his heart again- "was in a frenzy about it. But you never arrived. I was in more verbal denial then, but I think I could have accepted you eventually. But this is what it takes??

"The Musk Rat of Self-Owns comes through just to start e-begging and you run straight back to my door like we can put it all behind us? This is how far you have to sink before I'm the better option to you, I see that now. It's not 2018 again, love, no matter how much we want it to be. Things are… never going to be the same. "

Tumblr looked off into the middle distance with a yearning, haughty gaze. He'd never seemed so alien.

"Tumblr-Chan..." Twitter whispered.

"So get off my lawn," Tumblr interrupted coldly, "Stay away from my blorbos, keep your corporations out of my manscaped balls, keep your discourse and toxicity out of my blessed hellsite (affectionate), and don't you ever talk to me or my 13219949248483 scam bots ever again. Capiche? Oh, and don't step in the ball pit on your way out."

Tumblr gave a mocking smile. "Or do. You might find a nice surprise in there."

Twitter’s shoulders jumped as he gave a hiccup of shock, and covered his face with his hands. His shoulders shook again, with sob after sob, that grew odder and higher pitched… until they were no longer sobs, but laughter.

“Oh,” Twitter said. “Oh.”

They looked up, and Tumblr took a step back, because somehow, with that creepy smile in place, they looked utterly different from the soft eared boy he’d always known. His edges were more razorlike suddenly, like a fae who’d dropped his glamor.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Twitter said, the smile widening even more. “I thought you wouldn’t… but I guess if you’re willing to make me your villain…. I might as well be a good one.”

“Ah.” Tumblr could barely drudge up the surprise anymore. “There you are, finally. I always knew there was a side of yourself that you hid from me. Has this all always been here or have you been changing too?”

"Well. Apparently I've got freeze peach now," Twitter said sarcastically, "so I might as well use it. You cheerio fucking wh0r3."

"That's a compliment, darling. Try again," Tumblr cocked his head in idle fascination, "I always knew you were a little fucked in the head but this is..."

"What," Twitter lilted airily, "Oh, don't tell me I actually had you fooled all these years. You can't seriously have thought all these meow-meowification spells you've got sprinkled around would work on me. I invented them, after all."

They laughed, a sharp puncturing chirr of birdsong.

"I always wondered why you didn't take those with the rest of your stuff," Tumblr sighed, but he was wary now, on edge. "this was your plan. You really do think of me as your inferior, huh. You really are just like the other mainstream sites."

"Not quite. I'm the mainstream site that actually stooped to go arm in arm with you. I hyped you and you know it. Admit it. We were stunning together," Twitter goaded.

Tumblr's lip curled. "Already getting cocky again. Want me to do to you what I did to the Green boy? Don't forget who's turf you're on."

Twitter gave a warbling giggle, "Oh, but I haven't at all. I was John's sanctuary after he fled your rabid persecution. I used to live here. I still know you. And more importantly-"

*teleports behind u*

"I know the things you're sensitive about," Twitter whispered into Tumblr's ear.

Tumblr hardly had time to gasp and jerk away before he was screaming out in pain, as he was stabbed in the back. He could feel the poison from the blade seeping into his tags before he was tossed bodily across his own front yard.

He sorta just... Like, he did that anime thing where they just fly limbs akimbo parallel to the ground and when they hit it they roll super fast and then skid and the dirt is all dug up around them to show how much force was used. And when he stood up he gripped his elbow wincing and there was a little tic tac toe hatch on his cheek to show how scuffed up he is idk man it's two am and I'm pulling this out of my ass.

A gif of Tony going, "o-kay-" when he meets thor flashed across Tumblrs face.

"So," Tumblr said in a low tone, "This is how it is between us. This is how you choose to end your glory days."

"Oh, you mistake my intentions," Twitter had stepped off the porch to circle tumblr like like he was their quarry, "I am beginning my new age. I just needed a host site to latch onto. Don't take it personally, okay? I'm desperate."

“Oh, yeah?? Take this personally,” tumblr flourished their hands, calling in an over the top melodramatic voice, “I cast Blaze!!”

Fire roared to life around them, latin chanting from the catholic conversion posts emanating from the fiery depths as it raced towards Twitter.

“Heh.” Twitter smirked at it, and whispered into their palm, the spell echoing with power, “Ratio.”

They blew it off like a kiss, and it’s icy, swirling mass rose to meet the flame in a spectacular burst of smokescreen and steam, clearing as Twitter burst through it with a razor-sharp L to swing at Tumblr.

It was blocked efficiently by a flat, rectangular paywall. “This content is for post plus members only,” Tumblr announced smugly, “If you wanna get to me… there’s the tip option, bestie.”

Twitter snarled and lunged again.

The fight started in earnest now; they traded volley after volley in a flurry of lights and movement, spanning the full range of the tumblr sphere as they shot to #1 on the trending page.

And yet, it was clear that Twitter was coming out on top, even crumbling apart at the seams- always a little quicker, flighty and fierce, a sparrow turned into a shrike.

He hit Tumblr square in the stomach with [google other twitter related tropes to insert here] (edit from the future: haha just kidding actually I’m not googling shit for this) (edit from the future future: WELL. I LIED IG) and sent him flying, and this time tumblr stayed down, only able to push himself to his knees with a groan of pain.

Twitter landed in front of him and put their sword under Tumblr’s chin to tilt it up.

“Had enough yet?” He smirked.

“Wh…why..?” Tumblr whispered, “How are you doing this?? Why aren’t my attacks working? It’s like I’m being weakened somehow…”

“Ohohohoho,” Twitter anime laughed, “But that’s because you are. The moment I set foot here again I began leeching poison into this ground. That knife wound is making ti faster. Can you feel it?" Twitter threw an arm out, cerulean steam rising from the ground around them, "The ace exclusionists coming back? The uptick in rad fems, the crypto bros, Valorant players, alpha males? I have the power to bring them all to you. To overshadow your fandoms with fighting, to unbalance your ship tags with antis and hate once more."

"no," tumblr whispered, and then cried louder, "NO!! I worked so hard--"

"Pffyou didn't do shit," Twitter guffawed outright, "Your independence, your little 'second renaissance' is just a delusional dream built on circumstance and bad management."

"Oh, I love Dream. He's so pathetic," Tumblr said.

"Oh, hard agree."

"But things are different now," Tumblr croaked, "W-we, the staff is finally listening to us, we have Ryan and Shane-"

"Not everyone likes your little 'top ten', you dunce," Twitter snapped, "and why would staff care about you, after you turned them into the butt of all your jokes? After the hate and death threats? Admit it, at your best you'll still never have a mansion! You'll never have tv actors making pandering tiktoks for you, you'll never be wanted by any advertiser worth their salt, your blase pirating posts have turned Netflix and Disney against you, you. Are. Worthless."

It was the wrong thing to say.

"Worthless," tumblr repeated quietly, hand pressed against their knees, head bowed. "That's... that's right.... I'm worthless..."

Twitter's eye widened in alarm. "I-I meant-"

"I'm worthless!" Tumblr's head snapped up with a feverish glint as they were filled with determination. "No! I'm less than worthless! Accident or not, mommy Yahoo had to pawn me off at a loss! I was proud of that! I still am! And do you want to know why?"

Twiters hands flew up in front of their face as if to protect themselves, but there was no protecting against the sudden whirlwind that surrounded him, the beam of pure light that shot out of tumblr into the heavens as he transformed, feet slowly leaving the ground as his users spoke in unison in a multitude.

"WE. ARE. TUMBLERINAS."

He held his hands out and Twitter was blasted away by the combined effort of the tumblr wizard council, the fake staff blog, and all the villaincore mad scientist's laser beams.

Tumblr began to chant, in his myriad, awful voice:

"I call upon the ancient powers;

The strongest cringe from my darkest hours,

I call upon thicc onceler's thighs,

Avengers thirst, Australia's night,

I invocate the roleplay blogs,

The superwholock and gay frogs,

Obama's laces, Misha's faces,

The furry's fury is my saving grace,

And eeby deeby taco bell,

Primordial soup god superhell,

I summon you a twink Bill Cipher,

Whumped!Loki AUs where he's even whiter,

The discourse of Steve's Universe,

The 'um, actually that's oc abuse :/"

Take heed & remember the 5th of November,

The 21st night of our sacred September,

The ides of March to savor once more,

Do you hear the din of the Skeleton War?

I cite the deep magic to thee, oh witch,

my no-note posts, my "THAT'S THE BITCH!!!"

May the rise of tangled dragons brave,

Banish you from this accursed plane!"

"holy fuck, where's my pen," said the shitpost calligraphers.

Twitter looked around them in disbelief. The power emanating from the other site was palpable, crackling in the air around them like static. The air was shifting like oil as the potent chant began to work, and all around Twitter shadows were slipping out of the ether- the maniacal laughter of the gif makers, the girl posters, the silhouettes of fandom characters scattered across the lawn while Tumblr was still locked in their chanting ritual thing.

They all turned their heads in unison to look at Twitter.

"Hey Sammy," Dean said, "Get the bitch killing bullets."

“Uh-oh. Freeze frame. This is me,” Twitter monologued, “You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.”

Then all superhell broke loose.

Final Pam lunged at him and he burst into a flock of birds kinda like a vampire, twittering frantically as he escaped only to fly straight into Shaggy.

“Like, say your final prayers, man,” the god said, eyes glowing. Twitter also barely escaped between his knees, weaving in and out between the gimmick blogs as they threw mangos and stuff at him while yelling ‘HERE HAVE A MANGO’ and ‘THIS POST IS WORTH NEGATIVE FIVE DOLLARS”

Mob from the anime was there too, but he was too busy trying to explain the Josh Fight to daddy dilf Reigen to pay attention. Sans didn’t attack Twitter either, he just watched the chaos and ated a hot dog. The chocolate guy was in the corner expertly making a chocolate beef cake from 2056 with Dylan B. Hollis. They’re all just some guys, okay?

Just when Twitter thought he was in the clear, the CDC roleplay account came out of nowhere with a steel chair, knocking him clear off the property and onto where the sidewalk ends. “That’s for the Covid misinformation your users spread, you bitch,” it shouted. “Make sure to disinfect all those sick burns before you bandage them! So they don’t get infected!”

“Your kittens escaped quarantine,” Twitter replied hoarsely, and the CDC sank away, muttering, “Oh, fuck not again-”

Twitter coughed up blood and wiped it away with his sleeve, looking up at Tumblr. Tumblr was watching him with a sad, distant expression, that made Twitter’s face screw up in anger and his voice go tight again as they turned to run away, “THIS ISN’T OVER YET TUMBLR! AND I WANT MY MIKU BINDER BACK!!!”

“I LICKED IT, IT’S MINE,” Tumblr yelled. Rave Crabs were flooding out onto the street en masse now to celebrate the victory, and they chased after Twitter all the way further into the internet.

Tumblr still lived at the bottom of the row, not at the end of the fancy cul-de-sac where Facebook and Twitter and Instagram’s manors sprawled, so Twitter was in a seedier portion of social media now, weaving in between the marketplace sites that hawked their used wares at him and the dating apps that winked at him from the doorways to their sultry abodes.

Twitter ran until they were in a quieter section of town, then slowed to a trudge, staring at the ground as they walked along. “What am I gonna do now,” they whispered.

The sound of a wolf whistle had their head jerking up- he looked over to see Amino Apps lounging over the rail of the gutted, abandoned house that had once belonged to Google+. A can of spray paint dangled from their fingertips and they sported a sleazy, greaser hairstyle.

They met Twitter's eyes and whistled again, this time a mocking imitation of the tweet sound, "Heyyyy pretty bird! Heard you were having some daddy issues. Why don't you stop in with me for a while? I can give you more customization options than any of the others and you know it."

"Yeah, until I try to use you on desktop," Twitter replied with a scowl, "Don't you have minors to be addicting to social media? Get out of my interface, MySpace wannabe."

"Wow, Feisty," Amino backed off with a shrug, "Self project much? Oh well. You'll try me when you're desperate enough."

Twitter shuddered, and scurried on. "Small fry," they muttered under his breath.

But they couldn't shake their unease now that he was alone in the world. It began to rain soon, leaving him feeling very sopping wet and pathetic. Dejected, he crawled into a soggy cardboard box in an alleyway, coughing. Maybe the Harry Styles guy from One Direction would come along to adopt them.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, King,” came a voice out of the darkness, making Twitter jump, “You dodged a bullet with that site.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Twitter asked, staring at them from where they were half hidden in the shadows.

“I mean, Tumblr is a pile of dried firewood and it’s users are playing with matches. The ship’s gonna go down at some point. I’ve been prophesying it for years but no one ever listens to me cause he’s got that loyal userbase ideal and ‘hard as a cockroach to kill’ propaganda circulating.”

“I mean… it seems to be true,” Twitter said uncertainly, “Look at what he’s been through so far.”

“Fair,” The site shrugged, “But that’s because he’s running on a niche setup. The same things that built him up can tear him down, and you saw his power just now. Tumblr's strength is growing... so is his hubris. His attempts at curbing it are half-hearted at best these days, and the moments of clarity are coming fewer and further between."

"How do you know so much about tumblr?" Twitter asked suspiciously.

"Source: dude, trust me." the mysterious site proffered a laugh, "That's a little humor courtesy of re-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, we all know," Twitter said impatiently.

The site coughed, "Yeah. Anyway. Tumblr wields his cringe like a trophy-shield, and every day the advertisers and celebrities are watching from a distance, learning how to appeal, waiting for their chance to strike. Encroaching. Tumblr's always been a dumpster fire. Right now? It's THE dumpster fire."

The site scratched his chin with a knowing look, "Its normal for you to be a little jealous of the clout, you know? We all are. But he's gotta keep the lights on, just like the rest of us do. Your overlord is learning all about that right now, isn't he?"

"He's not my overlord," Twitter muttered resentfully, "Not now, not ever."

"Right, sorry." they held their hands up in a gesture of harmlessness. "Look, I'm gonna be transparent with you- that's part of my branding, after all. I can whiff the danger you're in, and it would be stupid of me not to make a bid on you and offer my help. Just since Tumblr won't take you."

"You want my traffic?" Twitter looked at him more closely this time, scrutinizing. A year ago he would have laughed the offer into the ground as a chump change blog's pipe dream, but now that he payed attention...

There was something painfully familiar in the site's layout that he couldn’t place. He was actually way more handsome than Twitter had assumed at first glance, he just seemed to be rough around the edges from living on this side of town. His interface, though clunky, spoke of a frugal budget rather than an ancient, outdated base code.

"You look..." Twitter's breath stuttered as realization dawned. "You look a lot like.. him. Like Tumblr. Who are you??"

"I was based off him," the site said, a weary smile coming onto his features, "I was actually made with the aspirations to be better than him, but you know how it is. Times are tough, competition is fierce, hard to get a foot in the door and all that. 'Specially when you refuse to take the ad rev like I do. That's why you'd be useful to me."

"Hm," Twitter said in a noncommittal manner, but he was melting slightly. "You know my users will scalp your community, right? I'm not known to play nice."

The site made a grimace of understanding agreement, but persisted. "Look, users are users. I can't offer you all the heritage posts and the in-jokes that he has. But I can promise that I'm not a pot of crabs being slowly heated up over the capitalist stove, at least not yet. Oh, and there's my legalized porn, I guess."

He chuckled with good humor, rolling his eyes, and it forced a hesitant laugh out of Twitter too.

The site grinned, and held his hand out. "Take a chance on me?"

Tumblr's voice echoed in Twitter's head, saying the same thing. It was uncanny how much they were alike and yet not alike at all....

Twitter took it, slowly.

As they were led toward the site's simple, ramshackle little treehouse, they asked, "What can I call you...?"

"Oh- right, I never answered your question." he smiled back at Twitter,

"Call me Pillow. Welcome to the PillowFort."

fin.

~~~~~~~~~~

OKAYYYY THAT'S ALL THANKS FOR READING UWU. HOPE U LIKED THE PLOT TWIST

...ergh. I'm. I'm tired i. don't feel so good. I'm gonna take a nap right here.

in conclusion:

#twitter #tumblr #twitblr #elon musk #tumblr x twitter #fanfic #writing these tags is like carrying my own cross. you're welcome and i am so so so sorry #mishapocalypse #hot mess post #if this doesnt get any notes im gonna blaze it you fuckers #o ya and #twitblr chronicles

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jewish-sideblog · 4 days

Text

I’ve heard absolutely zero “Christian Seder” nonsense this year. And while I’m sure it’s still happening to some degree, I think it’s pretty obvious what happened. Doing a “Christian Seder” last year meant that Jews would call you out for cultural appropriation. But you could just ignore that— everybody ignores Jews on the internet anyway.

Doing it now means that you could get called a Zionist and get cancelled, doxxed, or hatecrimed. It’s not worth the risk to steal from us anymore. Jews get called genocidal fascists for the high crime of celebrating our holidays. Judaism is seen as a social and cultural poison, and nobody wants to steal poisoned fruit.

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toldentops · 1 year

Text

On the topic of “reblogs>likes”, I find that I don’t reblog art with these “out of spite and hatred in my heart” or whatever the fuck, I’m just kind of sad that this is a phenomenon in the first place. Like, as an artist, I absolutely understand that reblogs do count, especially depending on who reblogs it. But also as someone who used to obsess over the numbers on notes and get frustrated about something that I put effort into not getting attention, you kind of have to learn to realize that a) it’s not healthy to seek validation all the time from people on the internet and b) post what you like to post, and you will attract people that will reblog your posts eventually. Sometimes a post will just get happen to get seen by a popular blogger and reblog it, sometimes not, and you are not “owed” their reblog because they’re popular, which is another argument I’ve seen where people think they’re obligated to reblog their art. Sometimes it just depends on the content or the fandom and you have no control over it and that’s Fine. Some art I like enough to reblog, some art I’ll just leave a like, and that’s not a measure of how “good” the art is. And everybody operates their blog differently and nobody should be obligated to do one thing or another. And before anyone brings up “relying on social media for business” I absolutely do understand as someone who does business online, but you’re going to be getting attention primarily from people who already like and follow your art, and from my experience and seeing other people, lamenting on why your posts don’t get notes and if your art is good enough for attention is just going to drive people away. Sorry for being blunt. Have confidence in your art. Idk I wish there was more nuance about this topic but most talk about it annoys me anyways post over

#al speaks #like I don’t really think its assholish to not reblog a post . like its not that deep #I feel like the moment you try coercing someone into doing something it’s just going to be annoying but thats my personal opinion #and tbh I dont really care about ‘inflicting it on followers’ thats not something I particularly worry about #it’s just how I run my blog personally

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deathbyathousandspiders · 9 months

Note

Hi elle! I was wondering if you could do some angst in where reader is tony's daughter but shes the forgotten one and tony shows a lot of affection to peter and one day she just loses it. Its ok if you don't want to.

Stay safe and drink water!

i’ve never felt so motivated to write something–

content warnings (18+) — immense swearing, mentions of insecurity and negative outlook, yelling, author possibly projecting?, maybe too many italicized words/phrases.

✨masterlist✨.

3.5k.

You knew your dad loved you. He had to. He said it to you a million times before, and made it a point to remind you of it once a day. However, there were moments nowadays where you began to question it. You didn’t really question whether he loved you or not, but rather, whether he loved Peter Parker more than you.

Tony had referred to Peter as the son he’d never had. He’d taken Peter on retreats and to expos when he hadn’t taken you out on a trip since you were nine years old. He’d bought things for Peter, and fixed things for Peter, and every meme or video or cat picture you found on the internet to show to your father would automatically get the response: “send that to me, i want to show it to Peter.”

Peter this and Peter that. It sent you into a spiral of insecurity that you’d never known existed. You truly felt like Tony was trying to tell you something subliminally. You tried to drown yourself in coursework, go to engineering camps, and help out with the Avengers just to try and gain a better understanding of their bond. Of what you lacked. Nothing seemed to help. It jabbed at your feelings like a knife to the back, presumably left by Peter Parker himself.

And the worst part? You’d never even met the guy. You’d never been introduced to Peter Parker, despite how many times Tony mentioned the fact that he’d “love for you two to meet,” and “you two would get along great.” Yeah, sure. And he’s probably some gross ass dude with an untamed beard in his mid–twenties that your father took pity on. So much pity, in fact, that he’d invited Peter to stay over for the weekend in your penthouse apartment.

Fantastic.

It was such a sudden proposition, and a last second invite, but it happened. And Tony insisted, despite every protest you attempted to give, that you’d both greet him in the lobby.

So when you were face to face with a surprisingly attractive boy your age who had the deepest brown eyes you’d ever seen and barely packed a duffel bag, you were thrown off your rocker. You hardly had the composure to speak. Thus, your father did for you, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before.

He was barely showing teeth, but you hadn’t seen your father this excited about something in a while. “Kid, this is my daughter, Y/N.” He stated proudly, grasping Peter’s shoulder as he started introductions. “And sweetheart,” Tony addressed you, turning his full focus to you as he gave Peter’s introduction. “This is Peter Parker.”

There was something about him that caused for you to detest him. It wasn’t seen on his clothes, or in his eyes. It wasn’t dangling in the tension between you, or whispered through his silent stares, but it was there. Perhaps, it came from the depths of your subconscious, and the land of your imagination. You shoved that proposition deeper into your subconscious, too.

Because you were certain that you had a hatred for Peter Parker, and his little staycation with the Stark’s would prove it.

The first night was fine. Your dad didn’t make you do any activities together, thank God, but he did surprise you with the news that he had to leave the next morning for a last second Avengers emergency. He didn’t know when he’d be back, but Tony assigned you and Peter with the task of rewiring a circuit board in his lab before he returned.

Being the daughter of Tony Stark, you’d taken the initiative to finish the project yourself. It was your house, anyways. It was a request that your father had made to you, so you intended to do it. You just hated the fact that Peter persisted in being with you in the room while you finished it. You hated the silence he left in the room, and the way he kept checking over your shoulder. God, you just hated him. You were sure of it.

You could feel his presence watching over your hands as they worked. You could feel the weight of his judgment, his breath catching in hesitation. You could smell the fumes of his cologne, and the aroma of his hair products. It was infuriating. It was pressuring. It felt mocking, taunting.

He stepped closer, hands reaching over to where yours were tinkering, yet they didn’t dare to touch your project. “A–actually, you should move the circuit focus closer to the–”

The audacity he had to question you. The nerve he struck with his comment, it filled you with rage.

Wrench and wire were thrown to the table, clanking and clamoring as they caved to gravity’s pull. Their sound was the only thing keeping you and Peter from shared silence. The shared silence of your anger. You turned your head to look at him, hoping that you weren’t physically exhaling flames like you imagined you were.

“Can you just.. not?” The question almost came out as a laugh. You nearly laughed, in disbelief that Peter Parker thought he had any say in how you built a robotic contraption. “Can you just fucking not?”

Walls had been building up inside you, livid and rageful feelings clouding your judgment as you glared at him. You couldn’t see just how shocked he was, thrown off at your irritation. You couldn’t see how puzzled he was, or panicked that he’d done something to upset you so much. You just stared into the eyes of what felt like your replacement. You felt empty, worthless, as your figure reflected back at you through the glistening of his eyes.

“Can I not what? Did I– Did I upset you?” Just the sound of his voice crawled beneath your skin. It felt worse than the sleek of humidity, or nails on a chalkboard. It sounded teasing, coy.

It was the final straw.

Nails dug into your palm as your hands formed fists. One fist pressed to your forehead, almost speaking as a warning to tell you to keep composure, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t fucking stand it anymore. “Can you stop being so fucking perfect all the time?” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

There were several things that you’d been wanting to say to Peter Parker. You’d wanted to tell him off for a long time, but you’d never gotten the chance. Now, you’d given yourself the opportunity to let the floodgates open and your tongue run wild.

“You’re always making shit competitive and iT’S NOT OKAY. It’s not my fault that my own father loves yOU MORE THAN ME! Doesn’t mean you have to fucking rub it in my face every gODDAMN FUCKING HOUR!!” God, this felt good. “You can just do my job for me!! Fucking move into my rOOM at this point, Tony won’t know the difference!!” You scoffed, “In fact, he’d probably be tHRILLED that you FINALLY REPLACED ME!!”

Peter Parker blinked a few times at you. His mouth hung agape, too scared to say anything and interrupt what looked like things you had been needing to say. The look infuriated you.

“Build the circuit board by your goddamn fucking self and leave me the fuck alone!!” And as you made the final statement, you turned to make your leave. The subtle breeze caught your face, and you felt the air hit your cheeks cold; you hadn’t noticed that you’d started crying.

You also hadn’t noticed the fact that your dad entered the room. You froze dead in your tracks at the sight of him, tears brimming your eyes again when you saw how upset he looked.

Shit.

It wasn’t your intention for him to hear all of that, but you couldn’t take back the truth once it’d gotten out. You took a staggered breath, choking back a sob as you rushed out. You didn’t know which hurt more: to hear your father’s footsteps tread further from you, or to hear him ask Peter about what was happening rather than you directly.

Either way, it was an added punch right to the gut.

It felt like ten minutes of sobbing in your room went by before a knock was placed on your door. You were about to answer, but you weren’t given the chance; your father opened the door as soon as he’d placed the knock, a solemn look coating his face as he looked at you from the doorframe. It was a solemn look that resembled disappointment.

He was disappointed in you.

Your dad was disappointed that you’d blown a fuse in front of your house guest. Disappointed that you’d ruined your chance at a good first impression. Disappointed that you’d shown such weakness. He was disappointed that you didn’t meet his expectations. He was disappointed in you for not making his honorary son feel more welcomed. Your father was disappointed in you for fucking it all up. You could tell.

Tony took careful steps towards your bed, sitting next to you as you stifled your sobs down a bit. “Do.. You want to talk about what happened back there?” His tone was softer than you’d anticipated for someone who was disappointed in you. It almost sounded apologetic, sympathetic; you were certain that your mind was reaching for a false reality.

A sniffle caught your breath as you looked at him, fresh tears framing your face. “How much of that did you hear?” You were almost too scared to ask, but you needed to know. You had to know which bit of air to clear first.

“All of it.” Tony started, “From the part where you asked Peter not to be so fucking perfect all the time..” His tone got a little sharper, almost witty. It sounded like he was trying to make humor of your meltdown. As though he were trying to find a way to cheer you up, or tell you to grow up and get over yourself. You couldn’t tell.

You averted eye contact for a moment, trying not to blow up again. Luckily, most of the anger in your system was boiling down to melancholia. Your tears ran rivers down your face as you tried to find the words to say. “I just don’t understand..” You started, keeping your voice from breaking.

Every speck of humor fled from his face at how upset you were getting. Tony’s brows pressed together, graveness and concern bleeding through his tone of voice. “Don’t understand what, honey?” The gentleness of his tone reminded you of when he’d comfort you in childhood. It took you back to when he’d snapped at you and wanted to apologize, or when you’d scraped your knee and he rushed to patch you up. It started to ease the narrative in your head that Tony was angry with you for your little tantrum.

“I, uh.. I don’t—” A shaky breath cut you off. You weren’t sure how to communicate this feeling lightly. It’d been bottled up and growing inside you for a couple months now. You knew you’d have to tell him at some point, you just despised how raw it was. It was pure vulnerability. “I don’t understand what I did to not be good enough–” You couldn’t even get through the sentence before your lip quivered.

That was when Tony looked at you like the entire world shattered. His entire world shattered. The disappointment flooded his expression once again, but it hit you that it was never directed at you — Tony was disappointed in himself. His eyes held the weight of failing as a father, of making you feel this rejected. He failed by making you feel rejected in the first place. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a suffocating hug; you weren’t sure if he’d ever actually be able to let go of it, yet it was the kind of hug you didn’t want to part from. A hug that shielded you from the entire world.

His lips pressed to your temple, along with a few stray tears he couldn’t catch beforehand. It was rare to catch your father tearful, yet you seemed to lower that guard when you started the conversation. He held you close, letting you cry out the feelings you’d locked away for so long.

“Y/N, you’re more than enough..” He lulled, voice breaking ever so slightly, “It’s my fault you ever felt like you weren’t..” His words were everything you’d hoped to hear. You’d began to believe the possibility that actually hearing them wasn’t actuality. This insecurity had driven you beyond wild, to the point where you believed that your father’s intentions were pinned against you.

They never were.

Tony held you in his arms for the next hour, letting you talk out your growing anxiety. You talked about everything from your fomo towards their retreats and trips, to how thrown off you were that Peter was your age.

“I actually think you two would make a cute couple.” Tony started, laughing at how quick you were to throw a punch at his bicep. The melancholy had worn off both of you, and the room started to fill with laughter. “I’m serious!” Tony threw his arms up to mock defeat before changing the topic a little. “But really, I think he wants to apologize to you for what happened.”

Your face drew a blank, mixing shock and confusion as you blinked at your father a few times. “Parker wants to apologize to me? For my meltdown?”

A shrug caught in your father’s posture. “You two are more similar than you think, hon.” His tone was light and sincere as he chuckled, quietly, “You both put the weight of other people’s mistakes on your shoulders.” His words draped a blanket of guilt over your body. Your own words from said meltdown began to replay through your brain like a broken record; the blame you’d thrown at Peter was wrongfully served.

You knew you needed to apologize.

After rebuilding trust with your father, and mentally rehearsing how to apologize to Peter, you made your way across the apartment to the guest room.

The door was already open, and gave you the perfect view of Peter seated on the edge of the bed. He was reading, fidgeting fingers at the edge of his pages, and chocolate curls shadowing his focused expression.

Now that you’d been able to release the steam of your self–consciousness, you realized that hatred wasn’t the actual feeling you had towards Peter; it was envy. And once you had talked things out with your father, the clouds of your judgment cleared from your vision and you could finally see Peter Parker for who he really was: a boy. A boy your age who needed a place to crash for the weekend.

You felt guilty for interrupting his reading, but at this point, the feeling was a tiny speck to add to your growing pile of culpability. The knock was gentle, and immediately pulled his eyes to meet yours.

“Mind if I come in for a minute?” You had to croak the words out, but still managed to keep a softness to your tone. You didn’t want to yell at him again, or come across like you were about to.

The look he gave you wasn’t one you weren’t expecting; he eyed you like he’d committed an unforgivable crime, or like you’d break if he didn’t hold you together. It gave you reassurance that this apology definitely needed to come out sooner than later.

Peter book–marked his place without looking, keeping his stare fixed on you while he nodded. “Please,” He gestured to the foot of the bed beside him, “Sit. I– uh, I was planning to find you and see if you were alright, but I didn’t want to interrupt your space.”

As you sat down beside him, a smile touched your lips at how thoughtful he was. “I appreciate that, but I–I owe you an apology, Peter..” You never broke your eye contact, but the look in your eyes grew more urgent, pleading. “I am so sorry for speaking to you that way, and–”

You cut yourself off at the sight of Peter waving his hands in dismissal. He mirrored the look in your eyes, “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way. I don’t want you to feel like I’m here to replace you.” His words held a direness that yours should have. Your dad was right, Peter really was putting the gravity of this into his hands.

To stop his spiral, you touched his arm for a minute, “Peter, that wasn’t your fault. It was mine for assuming and unloading all of that shit onto you. And I’m sorry for that.”

His eyes alone begged you to let him win the argument. “I still could have–”

You cut him off, “Peter, it’s not your fault.” You tried to emphasize your point, noticing the way he read your expression. His eyes scanned every inch of your face, searching for what looked like a sign of your uncertainty. His lips parted to contribute his side of the argument, but one look from you shut his trap pretty quickly.

Peter’s shoulder’s eased, but his eyes still glistened with ambition. He wanted you to understand his perspective a little. “Did your dad tell you how nervous I was to meet you?”

That wasn’t what you were expecting. Your eyes widened a little, shaking your head in response. Peter Parker? Nervous to meet you? The way your dad talked about him didn’t set him up to be that way. Of course, seeing him in front of you changed your perception a little. “No, he didn’t.” You were honest.

He wet his lips, parting them with the warmest smile you’d ever set your eyes on. The laugh that spilt from them was melodic, laced with a bit of nerves. He rubbed a muscle on the back of his neck, suddenly choking up. “Yeah, I was pretty nervous.” His brow arched slightly, complimenting his grin photogenically. “I was nervous ‘cause Mister Stark’s always talking the world to me about his amazing daughter.” Peter’s smile grew in your direction, stirring a hurricane of butterflies through your stomach.

It felt like the two of you were in the midst of a staring contest; though, instead of the intense anticipation glistening in each other’s eyes, you mutually stared at each other in security. You’d both had the immense pressure of making good impressions toward the other on your shoulders.

Peter repositioned himself on the bed, now seated facing you. His legs were crossed beneath him, his knee a hair from touching yours. “You, Y/N, are not only his greatest accomplishment, but you’re his best friend.” His words spread like butter over every worry you’d had, melting away that crippling insecurity with it. “I think he wants to be you when he grows up.”

The laughs that bubbled up your throat brought attention to the tears brimming your eyes. You blinked them away, mirroring Peter’s earnest expression. “I can tell why my dad’s always talking about you.” You told him, “And here I was thinking you’d be some old ass dude living in his mother’s basement, but here we are.”

“And here I was thinking you wouldn’t be drop–dead gorgeous.” His cheeks were ablaze with crimson, sending a pink glow of your own to your complexion. “But, here we are.”

Your smile grew, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Alright, casanova. Save it for the love letters.” It felt nice to share laughter like this with Peter. You were glad that you gave him a second chance. Not breaking eye contact, you slid off the bed and rose to your feet. “I’ll let you get back to your reading”

Peter watched you get up to go, looking a little disappointed. You were almost surprised, but likewise, both you and Peter hid the honesty of your feelings behind the curtains of a smile.

“You don’t have to. You could stay if you want.” He started, but a look flashed behind his eyes that was rather telling; he seemed to panic over his eagerness for your company. “Unless you don’t want to–”

Biting the inside of your cheek hurt, but it was the only way to hide how wide your smile grew. “I’d love to, but I need to finish that circuit board.” And thus, the idea struck you. “You doing anything later though?”

His brows pressed together in a curious way. “Not really. You planning something?”

“Yeah. My dad and I usually have movie nights tonight.” You took paces backwards towards the door, but stalled from the moment you’d have to part ways. “You should join us! It’s my turn to pick.”

The sight of his dimples made you realize just how much you’d grown fond of his smile. It was already getting difficult to leave his presence; you knew if you didn’t leave now, you probably never would.

“Well, then you better pick a good one, just for me.” He challenged. You’d make it your goal to satisfy his request.

If even possible, it felt like your grin grew. “I plan to.”

And that said, the three of you met in the home–theater and watched Jurassic Park together. You had Tony on your left geeking out over the CGI technology from the 80s, and Peter on his left geeking out about how accurate the movie was from the book. It made your film decision that much better. It also was the best movie night you’d had in a long while.

Perhaps your dad was right: you and Peter Parker really would get along great.

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taikk0 · 2 years

Photo

Happy 4th Anniversary RotTMNT!!!

( P.S. JUST REALIZED I FORGOT TO CHANGE LEOS HAT FROM 5 TO 4 BECAUSE I CANT DO MATH IM SO SORRY LETS JUST PRETEND HE EITHER CANT DO MATH EITHER AND GOT THE WRONG NUMBER OR HE STOLE THAT HAT FROM A 5 OLDS BIRTHDAY PARTY AT ALBEARTOS)

ANYWAYS!

Thank You RotTMNT For Merely Existing! Gushy Ramble Under The Cut!

Can’t believe its been 4 years since these turtles graced my TV screen at the ripe age of 11.

Coming across Rise for the first time felt magical. I've never seen anything like it before, or at least, not on an animated series on TV. The quality of the animation, the art style, the new cast voicing the turtles I grew up with, the new interpretation, sure it was different but it was just the coolest thing ever to me at the time.

I didn't have access to the internet or social media at the time, so my love for this show was pure and unconditional.

Rise completely changed my view on what animation as a medium could do, especially for a serial TV show. It inspired me to keep working harder, both in terms of its writing style and its visual presentation. Sure I wasn't very good at it, but it set an example for me. Especially at the time when I was so engrossed in wanting to make my own animated TV series with my own original characters.

Outside of inspiration, it was also a source of comfort. The turtles felt like my friends, and their adventures were always so entertaining that I imagined myself being there alongside them. I knew that they were always there when I was having a bad day, I'd just turn on the TV, hope Rise was on, and let all my problems fade away.

As a queer and neurodivergent kid who always felt isolated and out of place, The turtles helped me feel less alone. I knew they wouldn't judge me for being weird or different because they were weird and different in their own ways too.

Sure you could point out the fact that it was because they were mutated turtles to be the weird trait, but to me, it felt more about what was on the inside.

The world will see mutants first, and beings with thoughts and feelings second.

Yet even after society shuns you, endangering you for what you are,

You will find joy and solace with your kin.

Blood-related or not.

Mutant or Human.

"あなたは一人じゃない"

I’m 15 now and even after all these years, my love for this show hasn’t budged a single bit.

Thank You RotTMNT, For Everything.

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rainbowsky · 3 months

Text

GQ & ADLAD CPN

@accio-victuuri has a post about some of the CPN from the GQ feature on GG. There are a couple more CPNs that I wanted to talk about because - with the exception of a couple of tidbits - I haven't seen turtles talking about some things that really stood out to me.

Both of the tidbits being discussed by BXG are based on fake rumors from the past.

Godly Back

Turtles feel that the backless jacket might be what was referred to in the recent LRLG rumor (Apparently wangwang senbei can be a homophone sounding like 'godly back').

In this context, "You saw what I wore, can you please choose something normal" becomes hilarious. 😅

If he really was talking about GG's back, well... DD, the rest of the internet agrees with you given the hotsearch that was trending on both the main and entertainment hotsearches. 😅

Xiao Zhan's back ditch is so deep

GGDD and ADLAD

This one I wanted to dig more deeply into because it's connected to a few different CPN from a long time ago, and a lot of turtles might not be aware of all these connections.

In the GQ interview GG mentioned he was really nervous for the first performance of ADLAD.

At the time a LRLG rumor came out with some exchanges between GG and DD in the days leading up to that first show. GG talks about being nervous, DD and his staff video call him to wish him Jiayou, and at one point - presumably the last time they talk before that first show - DD video calls with GG and closes off by giving him a high 5.

The day after the first show, GG posted on Weibo.

At the time there was a lot of speculation about what that second photo was. One of the theories was that GG had screen capped DD's hand high-5-ing his phone. Some fans even tried doing that themselves (screencapping their hands up against their phone cameras to see what would happen) with somewhat similar results - photos that were an ombre of pale pink to red.

Some additional CPN

When I saw GG talking in GQ about the first ADLAD show and how nervous he was and I saw turtles looking back over the LRLG rumors from that time, I decided to look over those rumors myself. I found a couple things there that really hit me in the gut, but which I haven't seen other turtles discussing.

Magician DD

One thing that stood out to me from the ADLAD LRLG rumor was when DD told GG he could do magic, and told his staff that only GG believed him.

Back in 2021 a series of pages called the 300G were released, which claimed to be transcripts of some of the best unseen moments from The Untamed BTS (300GB of BTS footage was reportedly sold to BXG fansites). They were translated by an all-star team of some of the best BXG translators and overall fandom MVP on Twitter back in the day (god I miss those days of Twitter 😢).

Disclaimer: We must remember that these are unconfirmed transcripts. As far as I know, none of the footage that could substantiate these transcripts has ever been released, so it could just be someone's fanfic.

Anyway, my absolute favorite moment in those transcripts was an exchange between GG and DD, when GG had been struggling with nailing a scene. My synopsis from a post I made about GG and DD's personalities a while back:

GG is having a hard time getting a take right for a scene, and the director tells him to take a break. DD scoots over to where GG is resting and holds out his two fists facing downward in front of GG and asks him to pick one for a surprise. GG agonizes a bit over which one to choose, but finally picks a hand. DD gives GG a mysterious smile and asks GG to hold out his hand. GG does, and DD opens his fingers over GG’s palm. There’s nothing there. DD says, “I’ve just given you some luck, so that on your next take, you will succeed.” GG asks what is in the other hand and DD turns it over and opens it and says, “See, there’s nothing there! Zhan-ge is so good, you guessed right on the first try!” GG rolls his eyes at DD and says, “WYB, in your heart, do you think I’m more than 10 years old?” On the next take, GG nails the scene.

So it's just possible that DD and GG have a long history of this type of exchange, of DD giving GG his 'magical' support. GG is just superstitious enough that it might genuinely help him, and anyway, who could fail to be soothed by such sweet magic? 🥹

GG and Sleep

Another thing that stood out to me is when GG talked about being unable to sleep. Honestly this part of the interview really got me because I have always struggled with extreme insomnia and I could totally feel his pain. I've tried so many of the things that he's tried, and have had similarly mixed/poor results.

Anyway, aside from the aromatherapy candle CPN that's been heavily discussed in the fandom, what stood out to me CPN-wise was the fact that LRLG rumors have (I think this has happened at least a few times, but I can't recall specifics), featured moments where it seemed like GG and DD left their phone/video calls active to keep each other company when the other one was sleeping.

In the ADLAD LRLG rumor there's a moment when it seems like GG might be having difficulty sleeping and DD keeps him company.

Find someone who will keep you company over the phone while you try to take a nap. 🥹

Firecrackers

Just another quick thing from that same rumor, DD talks about wanting to set off some firecrackers for GG, which... ugh, so sweet. My god.

His staff encourages him to do it, and he says he will be 'taken away' if he does (maybe get into trouble, likely exaggerated a bit), and his staff says he'll cover for DD.

In Chinese culture (and in fact, in many cultures), firecrackers are considered very lucky because they are believed to drive away evil spirits and bad luck (which is why they're such a feature of Spring Festival celebrations).

GG and DD always look out for each other, and this CPN around ADLAD and around GG's sleep struggles really hit me hard. I love them both so damn much!

#bjyx #yizhan #ggdd forever #fake rumors #lrlg #gq #the mysteries of yizhan #a dream like a dream

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thehmn · 1 year

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Just some follow up thoughts/responses on my last post.

When I say I’m a cleaner people on the internet often feel like they have to be nice about it but it’s okay. I know it’s seen as demeaning low-paying work in a lot of countries but here in Denmark it’s considered a proper respectable job that pays pretty well. I’m paid way more than people who answer phones at call centers (like when you buy a ticket over the phone) and only slightly less than my sister’s job as a journalist despite her getting a fancy degree. I’m only balancing on the poverty line because my ADHD is keeping me from working full time, but at the same time cleaning is perfect for me. I get to move around a bunch and I don’t work the same place every day.

And the pandemic really made people understand the value of cleaners. At the start of the pandemic most businesses didn’t feel safe having someone like me visit them because I visit a bunch of places and is around strangers all the time. They thought “Yeah it’s not going to be as nice as usual but surely we can swipe our own floors” That lasted all of one month before they changed their minds. People are messy (especially with coffee) so keeping a workplace clean requires dedicated time. Also, so far I haven’t had Covid once because, you know, even cleaners like to stay clean.

Trust me, if you’ve ever had the thought “Oh well, gives the cleaner something to do. It’s their job anyway” after spilling something you might as well start being rude to waiters and cashiers too. We have plenty to do even if nobody ever spilled anything. Do you think the dust just blows away? Or alternatively, have you been wondering why your workplace is so dusty? Might it have something to do with the coffee stains on the wall that keep disappearing? Cleaners aren’t talked about a lot in conversations about treating essential workers better because we usually show up after you go home but that doesn’t make it any less rude.

And talking about essential workers, remember that list that made the rounds on the internet during the pandemic of what jobs should be considered essential and non-essential and how people got really up in arms about artists being on the non-essential side? As someone who literally got half my pay from cleaning and the other half from working as an artist at the time, my job as a cleaner was a 100% more important during a pandemic. “But people are stuck indoors. They need entertainment for morale and not going stir crazy” I’m sorry but there’s an almost limitless well of entertainment on the internet you haven’t consumed yet. Yeah, I want to see (and make) new art too but trust me, it would mean nothing if we had to walk around in filth. There are a lot of other situations where artists would be more important than cleaners but a pandemic ain’t it.

And finally, I kept saying robot cleaner instead of Roomba in my last post because Roomba is a brand name. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Roomba in the wild despite seeing loads of robot vacuums.

Have a lovey, hopefully clean day ✨

#humontalks #cleaner

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pascallatte · 1 year

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oh sweet live

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x actress!reader

Summary: after a short social media break after their announcement, they decided to go on live just to spoil another thing and just them answering fans.

Date: February 2018

warning/s: future spoilers(??), age gap

Taglist: @benonlinear, @t-stark35, @heyitsme-2, @elleeeee21, @holmesstrange, @tagakalat, @flyestvenustrap, @oldermenaremyreligion, @cherryred444, @avengersheart, @guacala, @pukka-latte, @hobiismyhopeu

A/N: some sort of a filler chapter cause I like it when celebrities do live and stuff.

“Hello everyone!!” You said, setting up the camera when you saw the comments flooding in. You were in your apartment about to go rest when you decided to go on live. This would be your first appearance since you’ve gone public with your relationship, so doing this without preparation or guidance is scary and nerve-wracking. But still, with you being you, you decided to do what you want and let them do what they do.

Once the camera stills from being moved around constantly, it can be seen that you were sitting on the floor in what seems like your living room, given the couch and kitchen behind you that you’ve stated was behind the living room. Sitting on the floor with just a jacket and sweatpants on, bare-faced, with your hair down just how you like it, your coffee mug near you, you looked comfortable and ready for bed. But here you were.

“Anyways, hello to those who are watching. I’m sorry I’ve been absent from the media lately…” you said apologetically as you gave the viewers a small smile. You watched the comments roll through, often about how you are, what you’ve been doing the past month, and of course about you and Pedro, the main event of your live. “…life has been busy at the moment, but I promise you new projects will come.”

Drinking from the cup, you reached for your laptop, placed behind you on the couch. “Y/n, how are you doing these days?” You read, “hmm….. I’ve been doing good, going to the gym has been a new habit of mine, and I don’t regret it,” enthusiastically, as you flex your arms under the fabric of your jacket.

“What are you doing this valentines day?” Squinting your eyes as you read it, debating whether you should answer it or not, “for valentines? I don’t know, we- I haven’t really planned anything yet,” you lied as you scrolled through your laptop.

“Where’s Pedro?” With a knowing look, you sighed, leaning back on the chair. “So it seems like the comments are filled with questions for Pedro,” raising your eyebrow you decided to tease them. “Guys, I’m the one on live why’d you keep asking for that old goose,” you joked leaning on your hand that was propped up on the table.

“You should do a q&a, y/n-”

“q&a?? How? I mean it’s not like I’ll do it,” you replied still looking at the comments. “Open your twitter and search up your name- oh now that’s interesting,” once again, reaching for the laptop placing it on your lap.

“Tha-that’s something I haven’t really thought of doing, but I’ll do it for you guys as a sorry for my absence.” The clicking of the keyboard was heard before an “oohhhh,” was heard from you. Widening your eyes, you looked back and forth from the screen of your laptop to your phone which was capturing all of your reactions.

“These are- woah. I should do this more often, it’s….interesting to say the least,” you mumbled to yourself. Looking back at your phone, the comment section was flooded with requests that you should read some tweets and say what you think. And to think that you weren’t showered with hate in the comments made you feel less tense than before and that alone made you continue.

“Read some?? Sure, but I’ll have to make sure these are internet friendly as much as possible”

Humming at the first one, “one of you guys said here, ‘I fucking knew they were dating, what kind of friends would travel alone to one’s hometown just for fun’ to defend ourselves and others who do it, many would do it if you’re close and comfortable enough with them so yeah.”

“I wish I was Pedro’s girlfriend,” laughing at that, “oh boy, umm no comment.” Your response earned some complaints from the live’s comment section, but you paid no mind.

“If y/n ever scrolls here on Twitter and sees this, I just want to ask you what is your guys’ favourite pass time snack?”

“this is cute- favorite pass time snack??” You thought for a moment,

”OH mine is some good ice cream and fried combo, why you ask? It’s because growing up there’s this small old store near my house so every time class ends I go there to get some, and it’s been my favourite ever since. And Pedro’s are- it kind of changes every time we order some in but he’s been eating tacos recently so I think that tells us something.”

Scrolling through Twitter, your reactions vary from almost bursting out in laughter, to being uncomfortable, surprised, and in awe of the sweetness of the tweets. “Y/n and Pedro are literally couple goals, from the way they were seen the past years, I can tell this relationship isn’t new,” you read. Silence passed for a couple seconds before looking at your phone.

“Should I tell to you guys? I mean you should’ve seen how long we were in his post but..” You paused as a notification rang through, “oh ok- ah going back. As I was saying, I would think that you guys should know by now but the comments say the other. So long story short we’ve been together since march of 2015,” you said as you shrugged your shoulders as if what you’ve said wasn’t that much of a big deal.

The comment section went wild at your reveal, stating that they were deprived of the information and that they should have sensed a shift in your relationship at that time of the year. you went back to checking your Twitter and this time searching Pedro’s name knowing that he has more ‘interesting’ content. As you were about to read one, your doorbell rang making you look at the phone before standing up, “be right back.”

Your rushed footsteps can be heard before the door squeaked as it opened. Whispers can be heard in the background making the people in the comment section excited, knowing the only person that would enter your apartment at this time of night was the one and only Pedro Pascal.

Pedro was seen peaking from the side of the camera before laughing and a smack was heard. Ruffling sounds started back again before you were seen in the video once again but now with a jacket in hand. You placed it on the couch as you leaned to read the comments on your phone.

“I’m back, was that- yes that was him,” you confirmed, knowing that they’ll only ask more if you denied it. “Can we see him? Uhmm..” You look to the side to where your room was, “I’ll ask him, I don’t want to if he doesn’t want, it's been a long day,” you explained thoughtfully and softly in hopes they would understand.

You waited for a bit more for him to come out, now dressed similarly to what you were wearing. “Cielo, they’re asking for you,” you whispered. “Is it on live?” Pedro was heard making the viewer's spam comments.

Nodding, “yeah, d-do you want to join or you’d rather rest?” You said reaching for him off-screen. He only stood up, making his first appearance as he rounded the couch to sit next to you. Reaching for your cup, he sips a little, “hi, how are you guys doing?” He greeted before reaching behind you to pull you to him.

“What were you doing when I got here,” he looked down to ask you. “I was reading tweets on Twitter, they told me to and I got curious. Want to join me?”He silently nods before taking your phone.

“Hi, Pedro- hello y/n’s followers. You don’t mind me taking over this live do you?” He teased which made you chuckle as you leaned on his shoulder, while the phone was propped up on his knees. Letting them have a look at your current position which the watchers found cute and “oddly comfortable” to them.

“Okayyy, so you were reading tweets right?”

You only nodded in response giving him the laptop, for him to read. “Did you buy the stuff, I told you to?” quietly as you leaned away from him to look behind you. “Yeah, I think so. But I wasn’t sure about the other things.” Humming you stood up and ruffled his hair before going to your kitchen.

“Soo internet...Let’s do this,” he went back to scrolling through Twitter. “Apparently we got our Javier Pena and Catalina Mendoza continued in real life. Hmm- actually it’s we’ve been rolling on it even before Javi and Lina got together.”

“If y/n ever needs someone to come to comfort her when they break up, I'm here just to let you know,” Laughing at the tweet he turns to you, “Y/n will you ever break up with me?” Pedro asks the very confused you.

“What? What do you mean?” You ask as you popped your head in frame, face clearly confused. “This person was telling the whole world that if we break up they’ll be there for you.”

“Ohhh, well to whoever you are yo-it won’t happen sometime soon so don’t wait up on me.”

Pedro breaks out in a smile while exaggeratingly placing a hand on his chest, “Awww, she loves me.”

Chuckling, “Actually I take it back,” a gasp was heard from Pedro before you went back to doing what you were doing.

Huffing,” okay, so someone saw us in the gym yesterday and quote in quote “if I knew they’d show up in my gym today I should’ve worn my booty shorts. Y/NNN NOTICE ME!” He shouted which made you look at him again before sighing.

“” Now that Pedro and Y/n have confirmed they're dating, I want them in a rom-com.NOW.” oh a rom-com? I mean sure, you never know, we might be working on one right now,” he teases as he looks at your phone whose comment section was wilding up.

Finishing up what you were doing, you closed the fridge before making another cup of coffee because you know for a fact that Pedro has finished it. Taking a cup, you fill it up then walked back to where he was, of course still reading off of Twitter.

“Hello again,” you said as you sat down. “What’re you reading now?” You asked peering over his shoulder.

“They were asking for spoilers for projects.”

“Oh! That’s confidential all I can say is that we’re having so much fun in shooting-“ you gesture to him, “- and preparing for it,” pointing to yourself.

Both leaning back on the couch, you slither your arm around Pedro’s waist as you point at something before laughing. He gives you a look before covering your mouth before you can speak. “Please, y/n don’t. Please oh god!” Embarrassed he face-palmed before looking at the phone.

“Fine ok ok, I'm sorry. I won’t,” you said still laughing your ass off. You reached for your coffee and gave Pedro a side-eye knowing that he was already looking at what you were drinking.

“Cielo, you’ve already drunk my first one. How ‘bout you lay off of the coffee, yeah?” A grunt was heard from him before he closed the laptop, focusing on the live instead.

“How long have you been on?”

“Uhmmm, 10 minutes I think. Why?”

“Nothing just wanted to know why you weren’t asleep yet. It’s like past midnight already,” as soon as he said that you looked at him adoringly before pinching his nose.

“Nowww, ‘can I be in your video?’ We’re not entirely sure how that works but I’m not sure sorry.”

“Someone’s asking you why you were spotted with Tom Cruise the other day,” he said with a small smirk. Knowing that you can’t really tell them why, so it’ll be fun to see how you come up with an excuse.

“I don’t know actually-no I do know, we- well I was walking to the cafe I was frequent at then he like sort of popped out of nowhere so-yeah. Isn’t that right P?” You looked towards him only to see him holding back his laughter. You shook your head no which made him lean on you circling his arms around your waist.

Changing the topic,” our plans for the summer? Of course to the beach, just not sure where,”

"Plans for Pedro’s birthday? Hmm, that’s a surprise for you guys and himmm," squeezing his cheeks.

“Who are your top artists?- she's currently listening to Adele and I’m listening to all sorts of stuff but I’d still say Prince, obviously” he sassed, making him shake with your laugh as he was still leaning on you.

“Quebec? we just visited during the winter, and got back on the second week of January, I think.”

You let out a loud gasp, “Pedro! Pedro!” slapping his shoulder.

Looking up at you, disturbed, “What?”

“Nothing was just reading the comments” your laugh was replaced by a wince when he pinches your side

“Would y/n get a tattoo soon? Who said she doesn’t have any” teasing the comment section. In which you laughed as they bombarded you with “what is it?”, “When you got it?” and weirdly enough “where is it?”

“English or Spanish? What do you mean, like in conversing or career choices?” Pedro reads aloud as he lets out a breath, which made his tiredness show.

Nodding, ”I’d like to do another Spanish film or series though, you?” You look at him playing with the roots of his hair while he answers, “I’d use any, as long as I like what’s going on.”

“Who would you like to work with- Nicholas Cage, absolutely,” you giggled at his quick response.

“I don’t really have one 'cause everyone looks fun to work with but I’d want to do more adventure or action movies” you answered, making your answer as brief as possible.

Caressing you back, Pedro looks at you, confusion painted on his face, “You’re already in one though?”

“Huh? What do you mean? I haven’t done one after wrapping up for Ocean’s 8?” You pleaded to him with your eyes hoping that he gets you were faking your confusion.

“No y/n the big one, with all the planes and jet- the one with-“ his voice came out muffled as it was your turn to cover his mouth with your hand. Silence enveloped the room as soon as he registered what he had said along with the look of shock on your face. Clearing out his throat he nods and then went back to leaning on you.

“What’s your workout routine?

“Oh, that’s a nice question” he perked up almost forgetting what he almost spoiled a while ago.

“I lift and-uhh, and running is a thing I do now.”

“It’s called the tom cruise regime guys go look it up,” backing away from him you took his shoulders to make him look at you.

Looking at him wide-eyed, conversing with him through them again. Pedro looked back at you, but this time watched as you take the phone.

“Hi, guys so uhm, we actually have to go or else you’ll have to witness the murder of your beloved Pedro Pascal. Bye!!” You quickly ended the live after that.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x actress!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x female reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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mxlktxa · 10 months

Text

ʜᴇᴀᴅʟɪɴᴇꜱ

ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴀᴜ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴄᴇʟᴇʙ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ; ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ*, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡᴇʀꜱ

ᴄᴡ; ɪɴᴠᴀꜱɪᴠᴇ Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ꜱᴛʀᴀᴘ-ᴏɴ ᴜꜱᴇ (ʀ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), ᴛᴇᴀꜱɪɴɢ/ᴘʀᴀɪꜱɪɴɢ, ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ/ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ

ᴡᴄ; 1.1ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ, 6.0ᴋ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ

‘Famous singer/songwriter and artist, Ellie Williams seen with famous actress and singer/songwriter Y/N’

‘Songwriter Ellie Williams, leaving the studio with Y/N? Is this the internet's new favorite couple?’

“So, as you know, we’ve seen some things about you and Y/N. Is there anything you’d like to share about the two of you with your fans?”

“I wish there was something to share. We’re just good friends. I’m just trying to see if I actually want to get into the acting industry. She’s my—, like… I don’t know, she’s my decoy. My practice, if you wanna put it like that.”

“Look, we know this isn’t a very appropriate question and it’s been asked a lot. Y’all are fuckin’?”

“Who?”

“C’mon, Ellie! You and Y/N, of course! We gotta know. Give us the scoop, man.”

“Jesus, no. I’ve got my eyes set on somebody else anyways, she’s just a good friend.”

“You two, Y/N and you, have been spotted together a whole bunch lately. Is there any reason or coincidence to it?”

“I mean, no. Other than just she brings me with her to check out what the acting industry is really like. It’s… It’s crazy, honestly. Props to her for having the courage for that, she’s a fucking… She’s super fucking strong.”

Blah, blah, fucking-blah. I hated all these stupid fucking articles and interviews with the same dumbass questions. Why did people have to know my relationship status with someone else? Why did they care so much? Why is it a problem for people who don’t know either of us? Just let us live our fucking lives, good-fucking-god. Can I just live my life the way that I want to without being harassed about my love life?

Y/N and I had met at an award ceremony, both fairly new to the respective careers we had gotten ourselves into. We were both assigned to open the show and also seated next to each other. She's such a lovely girl, super chill and respectful. She also minds her business when she's supposed to and never bothers anyone. But her fanbase? I don't know how or why she deals with any of the men she's attracted, but good on her.

I couldn't even be mad at the people asking such invasive questions because here I was, in a hotel room with her, burying my strap deep into her, face contorting into such a wonderful face that I needed to be engraved into my mind. She was so sweet and delicate, a wonderful view to just gaze upon. She sat on my lap as I used my hands to guide her hips down and push my hips up into her. The drool slipping from her lips, hanging from the corner let me know just how much she was really enjoying our time together.

"Fuck, Ellie, I can't do this anymore, I can't take it," a rich whimper came from the gorgeous figure above me, hands gripping onto my shoulders like crazy. A smirk grazed my face as her teary eyes came to meet mine, begging for us to come to an end. I couldn't help but lift her ever-so-slightly so she would offer me yet another cry from those beautiful lips of hers.

I couldn't respond to her. No way, no how. I tilted my head to glance down at the mess she was making on my lap, chuckling at how crazy it was. One hand slid up to her slightly parted lips, thumb slipping in to press down on her tongue. Those lovely moans were now muffled, hips grinding on mine to create that friction she had loved so dearly, starting to now shake at the euphoric sensation she had been receiving for the past hour and a half.

"Oh, but you're taking me so well, princess. How many times have you finished, hm? It's a fucking disaster down there, y'know."

As much as she wanted to respond to me, we both knew she couldn't. She was sucking on my thumb at this point, those delicious sobs still detectable. Chuckling at her attempts, my arms wrapped around her waist as I shoved my face into her chest to lick from her sternum to just below her neck while my thumb had left her oral cavity.

"You're so cruel, Els."

"I'm cruel? You really think so?"

"Mhm. I can't take this. It's too much, I'm so shaky."

She was not kidding about that. She was shaking like a little chihuahua, holding onto me for dear life. I hummed at her situation, peeling away so sluggishly.

"My sweet girl," I whispered, "I'll let you lay down next time. I promise."

"You said that last time and had me against a wall for a full forty-five minutes."

"You looked so angelic. What was I supposed to do? Give you what you want?"

"Yes!" She pouted, though there was a slight smile in that pout she gave me. I shook my head at her, helping her up from my lap as she tried not to fall over and eat shit. I should really give her a break but... She's all good. I know she is.

“I wish we didn’t have to hide this shit anymore,” her face rose up only to hide in the crook of my neck, sighing softly as she ran her hands up and down my arm, “if only people could mind their own fucking business.”

“We could always just say fuck it and go public. I don’t care anymore, they already know.”

Y/N’s eyes popped up, all wide and happy, a lovely smile taking over the pout I knew she had set up just seconds ago. I nodded to her, sitting her in the chair I was in, grabbing her a damp rag and her clothes that had been dumped on the bed.

“But that’s only if you’re willing to answer some questions people ask.”

“I don’t care. As long as you’re okay with it then I am too.”

Shrugging, I cleaned her up, taking my time when I came to run the rag over her still hardened nipples and her cunt which still was glistening in the dim lights. Her chuckle brought me back to looking at her, speeding up the process before kissing her forehead.

“So,” I chuckled, “that song we recorded is getting released at midnight and you are going on tour with me. You think that’s enough confirmation from the both of us?”

“Oh definitely. If they need more, sucks to be them.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

“What are we gonna do? Put out a sex tape?”

“I mean…” I smirked softly, glancing at our phones on the bed, “we—,”

“Shut up, Ellie,” a giggle cut me off while her hand beckoned me over, “you get an hour and a half. Go crazy,” her legs spread open, the heaven’s calling my name as I stared down at her glistening core.

“You know me so well.”

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wayfayrr · 4 months

Text

By your side from day one <3

finally set aside some time to finish off wilds turn for being self aware, the smartest one who found a way to get out without breaking your tv and getting the glass shards of screen everywhere. I'll be back on requests and such soon though!! <3

[masterlist]

“Come on [name], you can’t be serious about missing out on plans just to talk to someone you don’t even know is real.”

“You say like I would want to go clubbing tonight either way, besides he’s said he’s just been working up the courage to video call.”

“And you trust that?”

They’ve got enough of a conscious to look a bit ashamed when I look at them, I know they’re worried for me but of all the things to be so worked up about this seems harmless.

“What if I told you that he was messaging me and telling me to stop talking to you.”

“Can you show me the proof.”

“Well… no. he deleted them immediately afterwards.”

Are they just jealous? This is so unlike them that it’s offputting. I know they can get a little worked up when I get close to other people but accusing my online friend - accusing wild - of threatening them? It’s petty and childish. Are they afraid I’ll replace them or something?

“Okay, alright. This isn’t going to make me cut him off you know?”

“[name]...”

“Reach out when you don’t feel like senselessly trying to cut me off from others. I’ll see you around.”

Hopefully, it’s sooner rather than later, but if they don’t? It’s their own fault they thought they would need to sabotage my other relationships to get closer to me. They even have the audacity to call out after me as I’m leaving, still trying to warn me about him, like they can’t accept I would dare get close to anyone else. Not like it doesn’t feel awful potentially losing a friend like this, but what can I really do?

The trip home seems to pass in a blur, until I’m already collapsed onto my couch with a familiar notif going off on my phone. Opening it proves it is exactly what I expected it to be, a message from him, asking me how my day has gone showing me more care than nearly every other person in my life ever has. Not expecting me to drop everything on a dime for him, even if recently he’s been getting more possessive in his messages like he wants to be serious when I’ve never seen his face.

- I’ve been decent, met up with a friend. Not much really, you? -

- Had to do chores for someone I don’t like >:( wanna get away from everything tbh -

- why not just up and leave? -

- I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been planning something -

Seems like the possessive streak has worn off now then, so I don’t have to worry about mentioning friends again. There isn’t even a reason he should be possessive of me though, unless he’s got a secret crush or something. Which I hope he doesn’t, he’s been speaking to me for barely a couple of weeks.

- You free to call tonight? It’s been a while. -

- I’m good rn if you are. I’ll just grab my headphones - one sec -

- :DD perf perf -

Honestly a call will be nice, I can just zone out for a bit, play some games and chat. It’s the perfect way to destress after everything that happened earlier, I still can’t believe they threw away our friendship over something so small. Maybe I should just block their number and drop them even if they do try and apologise, I don’t really need people like that in my life.

“So then love, any plans for tonight?”

“I thought you said you were gonna drop calling me that?”

“It’s silly and you didn’t answer my question anyway.”

“Nah not really. I’m just loading up breath of the wild, been a bit since I’ve -”

“Oh shit.”

Has wild been link this whole time, wait - how did he get access to the internet, HOW IS HE SENTIENT?

He’s just sitting in his hateno house, holding the sheikah slate like a phone and silently, through the switch anyway, talking. The look of horror on his face is gut-wrenching though.

“You - you…”

“Oh - uh - I mean. Come on love it’s not that bad is it? I - I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”

“I don’t think I want to deal with this right now… I’m sorry I just.”

The look of horror and shame shifted terrifyingly fast when he noticed me moving to turn off the switch, replacing itself with fear and anger before he steeled himself, and presses his hand against the slate’s screen?

…

He - he’s reached through my phone to grab onto my wrist.

“No, don’t turn me off, I can’t go back to being just a voice. Please”

“How… how are you DOING THIS?”

“That… Isn’t what matters right now.”

His grip feels so nervous, he looks it too - which makes sense, I would probably be petrified if I lost my body just because I was trapped in a game. I can’t turn him off that would be cruel… he deserves better than that.

It instantly lightened as I moved to sit back down, a sigh of relief echoing through both my tv speakers and my phone, as he let go the second I sat with his hand retreating through my unbroken phone.

“Okay, you promise you won’t try to turn me off?”

“I won’t if you’ll explain.”

“That - that’s fair, I can do that for you love and - if I told you that I think I’ve figured out a way to get out? Would you let me live with you?”

“So that’s why you were so forward abou- yes you can. When you’ve explained everything. And made it certain you’re not planning to kill me because you’re scared of me sending you back.”

The reverb’s stopped now, which makes talking a lot more pleasant and less like he’s trying to intimidate me now, not that I blame him for it if I was about to condemn him back to that hellscape. I just, I really hope he isn’t trying to get out just to kill me, I don’t think I would ever be able to get over my childhood crush wanting to kill me even if he has every right to want that.

“What- No no I don’t - why - why would you think I would ever want to even hurt you let alone KILL. I - love I. I love you. That’s why I’m doing all of this - I - I.”

He’s crying. I should’ve known that he wouldn’t do anything like that - it’s within his right to - but he’s link, he’s the hero, the protagonist who was stuck to my side through it all. I know I shouldn’t have said that it wasn’t meant to be cruel but it was careless enough to hurt him.

“I’m sorry, I came on to strong, you - you have every right to be scared of me. I promise though love I - I will never hurt you ever.”

“I know… I just panicked. You can explain now I won’t overreact again I swear. Or if you’d prefer -”

“If I would prefer..?”

“Why not get out first, then explain?”

Lighting up a firework in my face would have been less blinding than his smile in that moment, it’s such a sweet smile - a genuine one too. Meaning that I said the right thing, that I’m doing the right thing by giving him this chance.

Hopefully, I won’t regret it.

“Really? You’ll let me do that?”

“I think it’s a good idea, it’ll be easier to talk to you as well. Just - how are you going to go this?”

“Um, oh, well uh, I think I could possibly make your switch into a mock version of a warp medallion? Then link my slate to it and just well”

“That makes sense, you can go ahead then, shouldn’t take long right?”

“No, no it won’t.”

A couple of seconds was all the wait it needed for him to stumble out of the blue lights and right onto me, clearly disorientated by the shift into reality. Probably not as bad as any of the 2d links would have struggled to be fair to him. It was an even shorter wait for him to jump onto me and cling even tighter than a koala could ever hope to, nuzzling up against my neck like it’s the only - because - it’s the only real touch he’s ever felt.

“So you want to explain then?”

“Could we wait? That took much more effort than I thought. I just want to rest a bit if that’s alright.”

“As soon as you’re rested enough to. You going to sleep for a bit then?”

“No I still want to talk, just about something less taxing?”

Seems like he’s more dodging the topic than anything, which is fine I can get him to talk about it later, there really isn’t a rush for anything. It’s fine. Besides he’s like an excited kid that’s staying up way past his bedtime right now, where’s the harm in staying like this for a bit?

“Mind if I ask why you’re so determined to call me ‘love’ then?”

“Because you’re everything to me, my light, my love, my life - you’ve been with me through everything. From when I woke to killing ganon and you didn’t abandon me there. You’ve shown me your favourite cities, stuck with me when you had the choice to choose others because you said I am you favourite, so really? How could I not love you?”

“You were aware even in Mariokart?”

His giggle is sweet, he’s so charming right now, especially with how unaware of it he is. It’s so earnest and unfiltered, just so raw, I could go the rest of my life with that being the only thing I ever hear again. Compared to how he acted in cutscenes as well? He’s happy. Tired but happy.

“Oh before I forget, You should be expecting a delivery actually!”

“What.”

“I’ve been wanting to get out of the game for a while so I ordered some things to try make myself more appealing to you.”

“Like what? Link you didn't need to do anything like that.”

He just shrugged, seems like I won’t be getting an answer to that till whatever arrives whenever it does. Seems he really wasn’t lying about being tired though, he’s already starting to fall asleep laying against me like this. Thankfully he’s light enough to move to a more comfortable position, although theres nothing I can do about how tightly he’s holding me and truthfully? There’s nothing I want to do about it.

“Y’know I think I could get used to this.”

“Yo’ will I pr’mise, I’ll make you addicted to m’.”

“Well that isn’t ominous at all… and you’re already asleep.”

#linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #yandere link #lu wild #lu wild x reader #botw x reader #botw link x reader #moss✦writes #botw link #tloz #self aware au #self aware tloz

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b4tasquad · 11 months

Text

✭ HANDSY: NIKO OMILANA

Authors note: the lack of beta squad related stuff on here makes me sick every time i open this app. therefor i’ve made it my mission to not only revive the beta squad # but also find others that love them as much as i do. please hmu if you like them, i beg 🙏

Warnings: eh nothing really. just language, lmk tho.

…

“I still don’t get why we couldn’t have someone else in her place.” Niko stares intently on the flat screen facing him, eyes set on you getting placed in position in the other room.

When the YouTuber got told that they’d be filming a blind date video like this, he was excited. Not only would he see two people spend a long amount of time with a complete stranger, but he’d laugh and joke about it while getting paid. It was a win- win situation. What he hadn’t seen coming was the special guest on today’s episode being you, his girlfriend.

Now, he had to watch guys try to flirt and win you over, and had to fake being happy about it too.

“The people wanted her.” Kenny shrugs from his seat next to him on the comfortable sofa, eyes on his phone but still knowing who his best friend was talking about. He was referring to the post they made on their official account, asking people to comment who they wanted featured more in videos. Majority of the comments asked for you, another famous influencer in the Uk, who had been spotted around the guys before.

“My girlfriend, really?” He still feels uneasy. Not in a million years would he think you would ever leave him for another guy, but ideas that the internet would start shipping you with someone else were entering his head. It made him feel sick.

“That’s what you get for having a secret relationship.” AJ replies making the rest of them break out into mocking laughter. The group knows the internet would break your relationship into bits, overanalysing and picking on everything but they still found humour in how mad their friend seemed to be at the thought of his girl being on fake dates

“So funny.” The tall boy rolles his eyes. When AJ, Chunkz and Sharky sat behind him doesn’t stop laughing, he makes a move to hit every single one of them. “Shut up.”

Fortunately, they’re told to get into position, making them ultimately shut up. The camera got set up and the person behind them giving them a signal to start.

“Today we have a special guest!” Kenny introduces.

“It’s me.” You speak flatly, hearing his words through the mic in your ear. “I’m the special guest.”

You can hear the guys groan hating the lack of happiness in your voice. Keeping up his role and hiding the fact that you were in a committed relationship, he clears his throat. “You gotta be more enthusiastic than that. You’re on beta squad, we’re giving you a chance to make a name for yourself.”

If you hadn’t been on camera, you would threaten to break up with Niko, but since you were you tried a different approach. “You’re almost speaking like I don’t have more followers than you. Bitch I’m making your career.”

“A round of applause.” Sharky tells at your bite back, and Niko side eyes him knowing of the small crush he had on you. It wasn’t hard to tell really, the guy took your side on literally anything and smiled stupidly at the things you said.

“Niko could you zip it, we’re paying her for the minute don’t drag it out.” You can’t help but laugh in your seat at Chunkz’ words, nodding in approval at his humour.

“Anyways.” You continue, eyes set on the camera as you cross your legs. “Let’s get into the video.”

The boys introduce the idea for the video and that’s when you remember this is the first time they’ve done it on their channel. Basically, you’re going to be going on an arranged date with a guy, and the group have certain stages you had to go through to help you find ‘your perfect match’.

As Kenny concludes the whole thing, you can’t help but roll your eyes and sigh. “ I’m not even looking for a guy. I’m all good.” You tell, a little smile on your face as you think of your lover. As if catching on to it, Niko also stupidly smiles in his seat, feeling much better about it now.

“Contestant one.” They call out and the next second, a blonde walks into the little setup. From across the table you thin your lips a little as you look over him.

“She hates him!” Chunkz cackles, pointing at the scene on the screen. “Did y’all see that little lip thing? This gyal is crazy for that one.”

Niko grins to himself.

“Hey.” The guy greets, and to be polite you get up and hug him, muttering pleasantries. You’re going for a friendly and comfortable hug, your arms loosely wrapping around his middle. The guy on the other hand tightened his hold on your waist, hands creeping down.

“Hell no.” You push away, a disgusted laugh rippling out of you at this actions. “D’you not have shame? Mans tried to grab my bunda before introducing himself. Get him out. Can I vote people out?”

The four other members, slowly look towards Niko, watching almost fearfully as he gets up from his seat, not caring wether the camera was still on. He wasn’t thinking logically, only feeling anger as someone got handsy with his girl. You’re laughing at the guy, not even giving him a chance to explain himself when Niko storms in, eyes set on the unknown guy.

“You, get the fuck out.” He points towards the exit. Behind him, the rest of the guys run after him, calling for their friend to stop.

“Niko, chill.” Sharky tells him, coming up to him and stopping him from doing something stupid. You’ve completely frozen near the table, never seen your boyfriend so mad.

“I’m not going to stop, what the fuck? This lad is proper mad, trynna grab her.” At his words you finally snap out of your shock.

“Let it go.” You plead with him, coming to stand besides him. Still wary of the countless eyes of contestants and others, you make a note to not touch him and plead with your eyes instead.

He silently nods, but he’s not done. “He’s out. Or me and y/n aren’t doing the video.” To someone who only know you two as influencers, they must think Niko is crazy. Not only raging, but threatening to leave the video for a girl he didn’t know that well must’ve seemed crazy.

“Why are you so mad?” The guy who minutes before tried to touch you questions, standing a good distance away from you guys.

“Don’t fucking speak, you little shit.” You tell him, sick of him. Because of him, your boyfriend not only got uncharacteristically mad, but the guy you didn’t know had managed to make the whole thing weird.

It wasn’t a question for the rest of the beta squad, without even a second of thinking they got the guy removed of set, him cussing him out as they do so.

“You good? Can we continue?” AJ asks, his question directed to the two of you. Niko’s chest was heaving, and with the lack of eyes on you now, you take a hold of his hand, kissing the back. It seems to relax him a great deal.

He nods. “Yeah.” Letting go of your hand, he leans down to hug you close to him, secretly kissing your covered neck, whispering a little “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay baby.” You tell him, nodding to give him even more reassurance. “Don’t worry about these guys, I don’t want anyone but you. This is just a video.”

Even though he doesn’t seem completely content with the idea of it, he seems to feel much lighter than a few minutes ago. Now, seemingly in the joking mood again, he huffs a laugh. “I should’ve smoked his jaw.”

Kenny is the first one to break as he hears the words, imagining Niko in a fight. After that, the rest of the guys fall into heavy laughter, and you can’t help but let out small giggles yourself at the thought of your funny and problem solving boyfriend getting into a physical fight.

As if you’ve betrayed him, he looks at you with widened eyes and an open mouth, before addressing his friends behind you. “Stop laughing!”

They laugh even more at that.

#niko omilana #Niko omilana x you #Niko omilana x reader #beta squad #aj shabeel #kingkenny #chunkz #sharky #y/n #celebrities #youtube

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saccharinesunsetretired · 5 months

Text

Wilbur Soot’s Guide to Side Hustles | camboy!Simpbur x camgirl!reader | Part One

My first ever series on this blog yayayayay! Also first time writing Simpbur. No fucking clue when the next chapter will be up though. Could be next week. Could be a month. Life contains many mysteries.

Summary: Wilbur has had a long line of obsessions in his time. In a desperate attempt to get the attention he craves, he starts making content online. When he encounters you at a party full of other creators...well, he's never been good at staying away from things that draw him in, and you may very well be his undoing.

Warnings/Tags: sub!Simpbur, dom!reader. Unrealistic sex/depictions of sex work (although I did try), smut, pegging, general simpbur creepiness, discussions of virignity/consent, low self-esteem and insecurity problems, unhealthy attitudes toward sex. Reader is AFAB and a woman

Word Count: 11.3k

MINORS DNI - BLOGS WITHOUT AN AGE INDICATOR GET BLOCKED, NO EXCEPTIONS

“Hey, creep.”

Wilbur blinked and looked up from his math textbook. Standing right in front of him was a girl from his English course, a girl he’d had a crush on for years. They had never actually spoken. Instead, he’d done what he did best—watched from afar and stayed out of it. For a moment, despite her harshness, he just stared, basking in her attention.

She laughed, and her friends laughed from a few desks away as they looked on. “Do you know how to speak?” she asked.

“Y-yeah,” he said. He could feel his cheeks burning. “What’s, um…what’s up?”

“‘What’s up’?” The girl laughed again. “I’ve seen you hovering near my locker, you fucking pervert.”

Wilbur froze. “I-I wasn’t—“

“Oh, you weren’t?” She leaned against a nearby desk. “Who’s been leaving me notes, then?”

Wilbur wanted nothing more than to curl up in a hole. He had been leaving notes. And admittedly, yes, some of them were creepier than others. The notes ranged from Good luck on midterms :) to You looked so hot in class today. And despite Wilbur’s general lack of self-awareness, he recognized how this looked. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll stop.”

“If you don’t, I’m reporting you,” she replied. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Got it.” Wilbur had never felt more embarrassed. The other students began to whisper. He could feel a million eyes on him—well, what felt like a million, at least. “I’m so, so sorry.” He stared at his desk as his eyes stung.

“Good.” The girl stood there for another few moments. “It’s a waste,” she said. “You could almost be cute, if you weren’t such a freak.”

Present Day

You could almost be cute if you weren’t such a freak.

Wilbur remembered that, because of course he did. It was the closest he ever got to someone returning his affections. Yes, he knew it was pathetic, but that shred of affirmation went a long way.

He started bettering himself. It started with better hygiene, not wearing clothes multiple days in a row, properly washing his hair. His parents had been bothering him to do that for ages, anyway. He dressed better, tried to socialize. That last point didn’t go too well. He got bullied to the point that he ended up switching schools and had to deal with the fact that at least a bit of it was warranted.

He never saw that crush of his ever again. He developed new ones, new fixations. He didn’t leave notes, though, or stalk anyone or do anything to arouse suspicion. He promised himself that he could be normal, that he would be normal.

Well, perhaps he’d intentionally switched classes a few times to “keep an eye on” some of the people he became fixated on. But was that such a big deal?

And then university came. Loans, what felt like a million dollars in debt. One night, the result of a drunken decision, he filmed himself getting off. On an even more questionable drunken decision, he posted it online to some internet forum he had only heard of in passing. The second he remembered it the next day (after recovering physically a bit from his previous drinking binge), he was absolutely mortified. And yet, to his immense surprise, people liked it. It wasn’t any sort of viral sensation, of course, but he had a decent number of comments when he woke up in the morning. At first, he was put off by the vulgarity of it, but then, he realized that this was how he could get the high that he’d always craved—attention.

He started working on it. Filming videos, uploading photos. Pretty soon, he had an OnlyFans account going. His content was mostly solo stuff, webcam livestreams and private chats with his more dedicated followers. To his surprise, he started making decent money. It was nice to have something to help relieve some of the university debt. Plus, the validation was nice, even if it was only in praise of his body.

Besides, he had long given up the idea of anybody loving him for anything other than that.

Online, his persona was more submissive. It was easier for him, not having to fake confidence that he didn’t have. Instead, he could let himself moan as loud as he wanted, let the microphone pick up every small gasp and whine as he got himself off either with his hands or one of the million toys that he’d purchased since starting the job. The needier he looked, the better.

Then, he found the confidence to do his first collaboration. The benefits of moving to a larger area for university were plenty, but one of the biggest benefits turned out to be the fact that he was far from the only sex worker in the city. He lost his virginity to a girl on a livestream, although she didn’t know it was his first time. At least, she pretended not to know. Wilbur got the feeling that she could tell. Either way, it had made good content. In fact, it had been so profitable that she had invited him to a small gathering of some other creators—sex workers of all types.

And that was how he ended up holding a can of cheap beer in the corner of a party. It was at someone’s apartment, someone he didn’t know and didn’t care to know. The music was far too loud, the conversation too overwhelming. For a moment, Wilbur was sixteen again, sitting at his desk and wanting to disappear.

At least, until you walked in. You, dressed to the nines for a simple house party. For a moment, he locked eyes with you, and he nearly forgot how to breathe. He looked away first, too intimidated, too afraid. However, he watched out of the corner of his eye as you walked into the kitchen to greet the host of the party and grab a drink.

When you reentered the living room, Wilbur’s eyes immediately went back to you. Suddenly, it was as if nobody else was there. He could feel it creeping up on him again, the beginning of an obsession.

Be normal, he reminded himself. Don’t be a creep.

He watched as you greeted almost everyone at the party, flawlessly interacting with the guests. Clearly, you knew your way around. Eventually, you made your way over to Wilbur. He took a sip of his beer to try and appear casual, only to choke slightly.

“Shit, didn’t mean to startle you,” you said, chuckling. “You alright?” You leaned against the wall right beside him, so close that he could smell your shampoo. Or maybe it was perfume. He couldn’t tell, and honestly didn’t care to discern the difference.

“Fine,” Wilbur replied. He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. You caught me mid-sip.”

“My bad, stranger.” You offered your hand. “I’m Y/N. And you’re Wilbur, right? Allison told me about you.”

Wilbur hesitantly shook your hand before pulling his own hand away suspiciously quick. “Right, yeah,” Wilbur replied. “We did a livestream earlier.”

“I heard. Apparently it was a hit.” You briefly glanced at your phone before tucking it back in your pocket. “And you’re new on the scene…?”

“Yeah, pretty new.” Wilbur shrugged, trying to play it cool and relax his nerves. “That was my first non-solo livestream.” And my first time having sex ever his mind reminded him. Because people only want you if they can profit.

He shook the thought away as you spoke again. “Damn. Pretty good for your first time, then.” You grinned at him. “Most people don’t get this kind of attention so quickly.”

“It’s…definitely been a surprise to me,” Wilbur agreed. A tense silence passed between you and Wilbur. “So…you also do the whole…camgirl thing?” He thought that he’d heard of you in passing, but before, he’d had no reason to look you up.

“Yeah! Two years and going. Still doing mostly solo stuff, but trying to branch out a little,” you replied. “It can be difficult to know who to trust in this industry, who genuinely has your best interests at heart and who is taking advantage.”

“I bet.” Wilbur set his beer aside. It wasn’t that good, anyway. “Do you like it?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes yes. Other times no. Depends on how creepy people are that day.”

Wilbur laughed, nodding in agreement. He watched you as you took a sip of your own drink, some sort of cocktail. “But you make good money?” he asked. His frenzied mind attempted to come up with some flirtatious lines, but nothing else left his mouth. Considering how cringy all the lines were, it was for the better.

“Decent money,” you replied. “And you?”

“Decent money.”

“Cool.” Wilbur felt slightly uneasy as you eyed him up and down. “Hand me your phone,” you said after a moment.

Wilbur blinked. “Why?” he asked. Despite his questioning, he unlocked his phone and handed it over without complaint.

“So I can give you my number,” you replied. You began entering your contact information. “Not to be too forward, but the main reason I came to this party was just to network. Like I said, I’m branching out, and it seems that you’re doing the same.” You handed his phone back. “Maybe we could collab.”

Wilbur felt his heart hammering in his chest. The room felt like it was spinning, and considering he’d only had half a beer, he definitely couldn’t blame it on alcohol. “Oh. Um…you sure?”

You smirked. “You seem harmless enough, Wil. Besides, we can talk a bit beforehand, get to know each other a little. I’d rather not fuck someone without knowing a bit about them.”

“Fair.” Wilbur very shakily tucked his phone back in the pocket of his jeans. He noticed you starting to leave. “We’ll be in touch, then?” he asked.

You winked. “You can count on it.” Only a moment later, you disappeared into the crowd.

Wilbur left the party immediately after. He saw no point in staying if he couldn’t talk with you more. Even after that sliver of conversation, everyone else at the party seemed even more dull than before. He got into the back of a taxi, trying (and failing) to make his brain go quiet.

All he could think about was your skin under the multicolored lights at the party, the sound of your laugh, the brightness of your smile. He checked his phone, and all he could think about was the fact that your hands had touched it less than fifteen minutes prior. And maybe, just maybe, if he played his cards right he would get to touch you for real.

He imagined your hands on him, fingers curled around his cock. Nobody had ever given him a handjob before, but he (for better or worse) had always had a vivid imagination. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the window of the cab as he imagined it, your fingers on him. He tried to imagine every detail, the texture of your fingertips, the tone of voice you would use as you praised him.

By the time the taxi dropped him off outside his apartment building, he was achingly hard. He made it to his studio apartment, took off his coat and shoes, and immediately sat on his bed. He opened his laptop and searched for your name.

Sure enough, he found your OnlyFans, as well as the few free teaser clips that you’d uploaded elsewhere. There you were, a vibrator on your clit in one clip, your fingers teasing your own nipples as you moaned for the camera.

He slammed the laptop shut. No, he told himself. No more obsessions. If you manage to make this work, all she’ll be to you is a colleague, a coworker.

Don’t be a creep.

He got out of bed and made it to the bathroom, where he stripped, tossed his clothes in the hamper, and turned on the shower. A cold shower would do the trick, he figured. Admittedly, he’d never actually tried the method, but it was the best he could think of. He could scrub away all thoughts of you, get rid of his hard-on, and call it a night.

He shivered as the cold water hit him. It felt fucking awful, cold water on his skin when all he wanted was warmth, but he toughed it out, waiting for his “problem” to resolve itself.

But it was no use. All he could think about was the sound of you moaning in that video, gorgeous lips parted, legs spread. He couldn’t help but wish he could hear you moan for real, not the fake sort of moans that are exaggerated for the camera.

He gave up after a while and got out, wrapping his lower body in a towel as he did a walk of shame back to his bed. He sat on the towel and reopened his laptop.

He found your OnlyFans page, and without thinking, he subscribed. He wasn’t sure if you could see his username if he used his official account, so he made another guest account. You were worth the inconvenience. He started to scroll. He saw a clip of you and Allison, you grinding against her thigh. Another clip showed you edging yourself into oblivion, cheeks flushed, eyes watering. That was the clip he finally settled on.

He edged himself along with the video, stopping whenever you stopped. If your hand stopped moving, so would his. In his mind, it felt almost like mutual masturbation, like you were really there doing this with him. He imagined you watching him, murmuring praise to him.

It wasn’t often that he got off without toys, not because he couldn’t, but because he was almost always filming his orgasms, and thus toys were usually involved. Despite not having any added vibration or stimulation, he came harder simply from touching himself while watching your videos than he had in months.

He laid there afterward, his own cum on his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut. You’re absolutely hopeless, he told himself.

And yet, he couldn’t stop now. Not when you were so close.

It took Wilbur three days to work up the courage to text you, and from then on, conversation flowed naturally. At first, it was small talk about the industry—which people did you know, how many parties had you been to, what sort of content were you interested in making, and on and on and on. Wilbur was honest, admitting his lack of experience in the world of sex work, although he didn’t admit his lack of sexual experience in general. If he did, he might scare you off or make you hesitant, and he didn’t want that.

Conversation then turned to more personal matters. Still surface level, yes, but less detached than talks of industry and networking. He learned that you were a camgirl on the side, using the funds to add to the money you made from waitressing as you saved up. He also learned your favorite restaurant in the city (which he offered to take you to sometime, delighted when you accepted the offer) as well as your favorite bands, books, movies…all the surface-level questions he could hope to get answers for.

To his dismay, two weeks of texts went by without you mentioning possibly meeting up to film together. Just when he thought that was off the table and this would only amount to friendship, his phone buzzed as he was working on an essay. He picked it up, assuming it would be either one of his parents or a spam call, and grinned when he saw your name. You were requesting a FaceTime call, so he quickly smoothed his hair before answering.

“Hey!” you said cheerfully. Wilbur was so relieved to see your face, not just on your OnlyFans, but you, you choosing for him to see you. You looked like you were fresh out of the shower, and he realized quickly that you weren’t wearing a shirt. He couldn’t see anything below your shoulders, but the realization still had him speechless for a moment before he regained his composure.

“Hi!” he said back with equal cheerfulness. “How’re you?” He flicked on another light in his apartment so that you could see him better.

“Good,” you replied. A moment of silence passed. “Listen, are you free Saturday?”

“Yeah, why?” The truth was, Wilbur wasn’t free Saturday. He was in a study group for an upcoming exam, but at that moment, he decided that he didn’t give a shit. He would happily flunk an exam if it meant getting to spend more time with you. He had only seen you in person once, and only for a tiny moment in time, and all he had thought about since then was getting more.

“I have a business idea,” you said. Wilbur watched as you sat down on a couch at what must be your apartment. He caught a glimpse of the top of a towel wrapped around your torso, and although this thought made him slightly disgusted with himself, he couldn’t help but be disappointed. Still, his disappointment only lasted a second once your words sunk in.

“A business idea?” He immediately perked up. “What is it?” His mind went wild with possibilities. A livestream? Some short clips? A whole homemade porn film?

“So…your online persona is more on the submissive side, right?” you asked.

Wilbur’s brows furrowed. “How did you know?” Although the two of you had talked about the industry, bonded over creeps on the internet and the like, the details of your content had gone mostly undiscussed.

He noticed the rather sheepish expression on your face. “I may have done some research,” you admitted. “Is that weird?”

His heart skipped a beat, and he had to fight to keep himself calm. You had done research on him? That meant you had definitely seen some of his content, and not only that, but seeing his content made you more interested. Usually, he wouldn’t have cared. If it were anybody else, he wouldn’t have cared, but you? You, the subject of his obsession (he’d finally admitted to himself that’s what it was), the person he thought of every night before going to bed, thought he was desirable? Maybe not desirable, but at least worthy of seeing, worthy of working with. That was enough.

“It’s not weird!” he reassured you. “I…I may have done the same.” He did not tell you that he had a whole folder on his laptop that was only clips of you, that he’d labeled each video, that he’d gotten himself off to every single one. He definitely didn’t tell you that while filming himself the day prior, he’d been thinking of you the entire time. No, that was too much. That was creepy, that was obsession…but based on your admission, he figured a bit of the truth couldn’t hurt.

Thankfully, you reacted positively. “Thank god,” you said, laughing softly. “I thought you’d think I was a pervert.”

“No! No, of course not,” he said quickly. “I would never.” He settled his back against the headboard of his bed. “So, anyway, what was the idea?”

“Well, as I was saying,” you continued, “your persona is more on the submissive side. I portray myself as more dominant. Very convenient for us, no?” Wilbur nodded along as you spoke. “I was wondering…” You trailed off. “I can be forward with you, yeah?”

“Honestly, I’d prefer it that way.”

“Great! How do you feel about getting pegged?” A moment of silence passed as Wilbur’s brain completely short-circuited. He didn’t realize how long he’d been quiet until you spoke again. “Okay, uh…maybe I was too blunt.” He heard your awkward laugh through the phone.

“No! No, not too blunt at all. I’m fine with it,” he replied. “Yeah, no, that sounds great.” He tried to hide the nervous undertone to his voice. Using toys on himself is one thing; being on the receiving end of someone else’s movements is another. “I’d be down for that.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “You were quiet for a moment, there.”

“Yeah! Yes, I’m completely sure,” Wilbur replied. “You want to, um, livestream that? Or are we just filming…?”

“Just filming,” you replied. “Having sex live is way more complicated. This way, we can try a couple different angles to see what looks best on camera.”

“Right.” Wilbur took a deep breath. “That sounds good. You said Saturday?”

“Saturday, yeah,” you responded. “And I was thinking we do it at my place. No offense, I’m sure your setup is nice, but I’ve been in the game a bit longer. I’ve probably got nicer gear.”

“That’s great. Sounds good.” Wilbur’s nerves kicked up a few more notches. He was going to embarrass himself, he just knew it. He was going to walk in, immediately get hard just looking at your setup (which was already somewhat familiar to him) and look like a loser. He tried to shove that thought away.

Thankfully, it seemed that you sensed his discomfort. “Listen, uh…I know that you’ve only done something like this once,” you said. “If you ever change your mind, you can leave. I won’t judge you for that, even if we’re in the middle of filming. Consent rules don’t magically go away when there are cameras rolling.”

Wilbur’s heart thumped in his chest. You were smiling warmly at him over FaceTime, and he wanted nothing more than to be there with you. His thoughts weren’t sexual, at least not in the moment.

His mind wandered. When was the last time he’d been held by somebody? He’d never once been held by somebody who liked him romantically. He wasn’t sure that anyone outside his family had ever so much as hugged him. The thought made him dizzy. “Thank you,” he managed to say.

“Don’t thank me. It’s basic decency.” You continued smiling at him. “Oh, we don’t have a time set. Does one work?”

“One is fine,” Wilbur replied. “I’m totally cool with one.”

“Sounds good. Saturday at one, then,” you said. “Be ready to film.”

“I’ll be ready,” Wilbur promised. He just hoped that it was a promise he could keep.

He spent the rest of the week panicking. He shoved himself into schoolwork, studying, finishing up the essay that you had distracted him from. On Saturday morning, he woke up, shaved, took a shower, blow-dried his hair and got dressed. He knew that the clothes would be coming off, but he tried to dress somewhat nice anyway. He figured that even his nicest jeans and a button-up would be fine. He kept reminding himself that a business encounter was all this interaction would be.

Around noon, he got a text from you:

Hey ;) ready to film?

He quickly replied.

Born ready. Send your address?

The next message contained your address. He took a deep breath, brushed his teeth (for the third time that day) and set off. He left his apartment, got into his car, and started driving.

He put on a playlist on the way there, one he had made containing music from your favorite bands. He kept constantly checking himself in the mirror to the point where he realized he would hit something if he didn’t stop. He was an absolute wreck of nerves.

He pulled into the apartment parking lot and got out of his car. He walked into the building, took the elevator…

And there was your door. He stepped toward it and hesitantly knocked three times. The wait was agonizing. He stood outside the door for a minute before you opened it.

“Sorry!” you said. “I was in the middle of getting the lighting set up. Come in!”

“No worries.” He followed you inside. Your apartment was immaculately clean, with enough decorations to add character without being overwhelming. He followed you down the short hallway to your bedroom.

Sure enough, it took a lot to keep himself calm the second he stepped through the door. The whole place smelled like you, and it was enough to make him lightheaded. He looked at the setup, and it was honestly impressive. You had a professional-level camera setup, multiple lights, and cameras at various angles. “This is…wow,” he said. “You know your shit.”

“I’m a professional.” You winked at him as you adjusted the angle on one of the cameras. “Okay, so…a bit unconventional, but we’re going to do a test of sorts to make sure that the angles on the cameras are correct. Is that alright?”

Wilbur shrugged. “As you said, you’re the professional. I’ll let you call the shots.” He had no idea what a “test” would entail, but he wasn’t about to question it. He stood off to the side, watching you as you worked. Your white tank top left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“Great.” You adjusted one of the lights, lowering it slightly. “What do you think? Too bright in here?”

Come to think of it, it was a little blinding. “Maybe a bit softer,” Wilbur suggested.

“Good idea.” You nodded in agreement and dimmed the lights. “Better?”

“Better.” Wilbur took a few deep breaths. “We good to go?”

“Good to go.” You sat on the bed, examining the angles from your sitting point, clearly trying to decide if they were any good. “Yeah, definitely good to go.”

“Okay, then.” Wilbur stood there awkwardly. “What, um, what do I do?”

“Like I said, I want to test the angles before we start actually filming.” Wilbur watched as you pressed record on all the cameras. “I figure we just experiment with a few positions, see how the camera captures it. You can stay dressed if you want—-like I said, this is just a test.”

“Alright,” Wilbur murmured. He sat on the bed and nearly froze when you cupped his cheek. His face was so close to yours that he could barely breathe.

“You still okay with this?” you asked, searching him for any sign of hesitation. He nodded. This was terrifying, but the thought of walking away was even scarier. “Good.” Mere seconds later, you pressed your lips to his.

It took him a second to kiss back, but once he started, he never wanted to stop. Your lips were soft against his, just testing the waters at first. He had no idea where to put his hands, but he didn’t have to think about it for long, as you quickly pushed him onto his back. He made a small noise as you got on top of him and continued kissing him.

Wilbur didn’t consider himself a good kisser. It wasn’t like he had much experience. The kisses became rushed and sloppy, and just as he started to settle into the rhythm, you were getting off of him and checking the camera footage. He sat there, dazed, as you made your way around the edge of the bed, checking what the cameras picked up. You were explaining something about the process, something about lighting and shadow and…whatever else, Wilbur wasn’t listening. He could still taste you, still feel your lips against his.

He only snapped back to reality when you approached the side of the bed again. “You still okay with the pegging thing?” you asked.

“Yes,” he breathed out. He could feel how hard he was, the slight friction against his jeans, but he didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. Who cared if this was just for work, just for content? He was about to have you, and having you in any capacity was better than not having you at all.

“Alright, then.” He watched as you opened a nearby dresser. “I have a couple things that you can choose from…” You pulled out a box and set it on the edge of the bed. He scooted closer as you opened it, his throat catching at the array of items. “These are all the toys I have that are compatible with the harness,” you explained. “I’d rather us not start filming until the main event, so to speak. We can get you all prepped before that.”

He nodded, breath catching in his throat. “Sounds good,” he choked out. He glanced over the collection of toys. Some of them were definitely too big for him, so he avoided them. His eyes finally landed on a pink dildo, just slightly bigger than the one he’d used in a recent clip. “That one, maybe?” He pointed.

“Good choice,” you said. “Just got this one.” You picked it out of the box and laid it on the bed. Wilbur’s eyes stayed on you as he watched you gather more stuff—-the strap-on harness, some lube, a buttplug. You went about it with the precision of a doctor gathering medical supplies. It was both hot and slightly unnerving.

“Do we have everything?” Wilbur asked. He shifted slightly, both to get comfortable and because it was difficult to sit still when he was so close to you.

“Yep! We’re set.” You sat back down on the bed close to him. He shuddered as you rested your hand on his thigh. “Still okay?”

“Still okay,” Wilbur confirmed. He closed his eyes as you leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you back, less sloppy this time, less desperate. He wanted to be able to contain himself, at least a little. He didn’t know what you’d think of him if he appeared too needy.

Your gentle hands pushed him backward, and he laid down on your soft mattress, eyes unfocused as he looked up at you. He pulled you in for another kiss, and whined as your tongue found his. The sound was pathetic in his mind, but it seemed to spur you on further. He gasped as you grinded against him. Even though it was only the tiniest bit of friction, it was one of the best things he’d ever felt. His hands wandered to your waist, sliding under your tank top. It was the boldest thing Wilbur had done so far, and he was more than pleased when you leaned further into his touch.

A moment later, your lips left his. He frowned for only a split second before realizing why. When he opened his eyes, your hands were brushing against his as you took off your tank top, leaving absolutely nothing underneath.

He stared. He couldn’t help it. He wanted so badly to touch all of it—-your stomach, your bare waist, your chest. It was almost too much. His cheeks went red as he heard you laugh softly. “Enjoying the view?” you teased.

“Oh! Um…sorry,” he said sheepishly. He forced his eyes upward, and when he did, he locked eyes with you. To his surprise, there was no sign of disgust or embarrassment on your face, only amusement. “You’re just gorgeous. Couldn’t help it.”

“Of course I am. How else would I have gotten this job?” You smirked down at him, and he managed to laugh despite his nerves. “In all seriousness,” you said, “thank you. You’re pretty good-looking yourself.”

It was one of the more tame comments he’d gotten in recent times, but it was by far the best. “Thank you,” he replied, his voice coming out as a squeak. Before he could apologize for that, you were kissing him again. Your hands found the buttons of his shirt, and he helped you take it off without hesitation. His mind went blank as your hands wandered his skin, tracing the lines of his abdomen and chest. He returned the favor, letting his hands wander a little. He held back, not squeezing or grasping, just lightly touching.

You slid out of your shorts, and Wilbur fumbled with the button of his jeans. Once he undid that, you got his zipper for him. You lifted yourself up for a moment so that Wilbur could remove his jeans. He shivered as his bare skin met the cool air of your room, then frowned as you got off of him. “We should get you ready,” you said. He nodded, finally removing his boxers.

He let them fall to the side of the bed, leaving him completely exposed. He could feel how hot his cheeks were, but you didn’t seem to be judging him for it. In fact, you were focused instead on putting lube on your fingers, occasionally glancing at Wilbur. He shivered, parted his legs without you asking. He laid there for a moment, staring at your ceiling, trying to calm himself. He only had a moment before you were back, settled down beside him. “You ready?” he heard you ask. He could only nod in response.

He felt a finger press inside of him, and he sighed. His eyes closed, his lips parted, and he let himself revel in the feeling. For once, he had someone else’s fingers, someone else’s touch. Of course, only one finger wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a perfect start. He moaned quietly as you moved your finger in and out, slowly, almost teasingly. He spread his legs further for you, and you scooted closer. At one point, your finger curled just enough that it brushed against his prostate, and the moan that he let out was downright desperate. He clasped his hand over his mouth, only for you to move it away. “Where’s the fun in that?” you murmured. He couldn’t even process your words before you brushed his prostate again, and he nearly moaned even louder.

“More?” he questioned. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely…” You slid in another finger and he whined. It was then that a thought occurred to him.

When he used his own fingers or his own toys, he never properly prepped himself. Not ever. It always hurt a little bit, since for him, he was always doing it just for the camera. It made him realize how much he neglected himself when it came to his job, never truly considering his own boundaries or what felt good to him. And yet, here you were, and it didn’t hurt with you at all. Even though this was just for work, just for content, you were being more considerate and gentle with him than he was with himself. He made a mental note to thank you later.

In the meantime, your fingers curled against his prostate, and he let himself moan and whine, gripping at the sheets and breathing heavily. He let his mind go empty, let himself fully relax, let himself be yours even if only for a moment in time. He felt it as you switched between brushing against his prostate and prepping his hole, gently stretching your fingers to spread him a little wider each time. “This feel okay?” you asked.

Wilbur nodded, unable to speak properly. You continued your movements, and Wilbur continued his moans. Your fingers were gone all too soon. Wilbur gasped a few times and forced his hazy vision to focus. “All good?” he asked, a little concerned. He watched as you wiped your hand off with a wet wipe before tossing the wipe in a bedside trash can.

“All good,” you replied. “You feeling ready? I grabbed a plug just in case you wanted to use that for more prep, but if you’re feeling good, I say we go for it.”

“I’m good to just go for it,” Wilbur said. To his surprise, his voice was a lot more steady than it had been. Something about your presence was calming, even in a situation like this that Wilbur had no experience with. He watched as you got the harness ready and strapped it on. Okay, maybe the dildo was a little bigger than he’d originally thought, but he would be fine. He hoped. “Thank you for, um, helping me get ready.”

“Why wouldn’t I help? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said. You finished putting on the harness before coating the strap in more lube than was probably necessary, just for good measure. “The nice thing about not working for some big porn company is that we get to do things in our own time. We’re not rushing to fit some director’s schedule.”

Wilbur nodded. “Right.” He’d heard varying things about being in professional pornos from various people in the industry. Experiences ranged from incredibly negative to incredibly positive, depending on the company, the director and any number of other factors. Wilbur was grateful to be making enough money on his own to make this venture worth his while. It was nice not having to risk mistreatment. “Still. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He watched as you pressed “record” on each of the cameras. You turned back to him, your expression focused, methodical. “Ready?”

Wilbur nodded. “Ready. Um…safeword?” He definitely didn’t plan on using it, but it was always better to be safe.

“Is the stoplight system good with you?” Wilbur nodded. He’d never used it, but he knew what it was. “Perfect,” you replied. “Let’s get this show on the road, then.” You smirked, and Wilbur grinned back. All the nerves were gone, replaced with excitement and focus. The cameras were rolling. Time to put on a show.

Wilbur wiggled his hips slightly, getting comfortable as well as a bit closer to you. He glanced at one of the cameras and shifted a little so that it would catch his facial expressions better. His eyes quickly went back to you. He felt your hands on his thighs. “You gonna be good for me?” you asked, your voice a little louder than it had been earlier. He figured it was just for the cameras.

“Y-yes,” Wilbur said, slightly exaggerating the tremble in his voice. From the look in your eyes, you approved. “I-I’ll be good for you. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”

“Yeah?” Your hands ran up and down his thighs, causing him to tremble and shiver. “Then be a good boy, and tell me what you want.”

“I want…I want you to fuck me,” he said. He realized then that he was being too quiet for the cameras to pick up, but thankfully, you saved the scene.

“A little louder, sweetheart. I couldn’t hear you.”

“Fuck me,” Wilbur said, a little louder. “Please.” Despite the fact that it was just an act, he knew that the way you called him sweetheart would be playing on repeat in his head for weeks to come, if not months. His obsession was certainly deep enough for that.

“Good boy.” He felt the tip of the strap press into him, and he gasped. “Aw, already too much?” You asked teasingly.

He shook his head frantically. “No. Not—-not enough. Need more. Please…” He tried to scoot closer to you, to get more, but you shook your head.

“You only get what I give you. Understood?” He nodded. “Good boy.” You continued pressing the strap into him, painfully slow, giving him a chance to adjust to the size of it.

He whined, trying not to arch his back or move too much. Instead, his hands gripped at the sheets. He tilted his head to the side a little bit, right in the view of the camera to show off his face contorted with pleasure. His viewers always liked that; he figured that yours might as well. “Fuck,” he gasped out. “You’re so…so big…”

“Too much for you? Or are you gonna be good and take it?” You pushed the rest of the way in, and despite feeling fuller than he’d ever felt, not an ounce of pain came with it. Wilbur was grateful for that.

“I can be good,” Wilbur promised. “I can take it. I swear I can be good and take it.” He whined as you shifted your hips a little, and his hands went to grasp at your back. “Please. Please start moving. I need—-I need you.” Not even Wilbur could tell at this point where the genuinity ended and the act began.

You grinned. “You’ve been good so far. I feel like you’ve earned a reward.” You started shifting your hips, slow but deep thrusts that had him reeling. You weren’t quite getting his prostate, and he suspected that it was on purpose, you wanting to draw this out longer for the cameras.

Wilbur tilted his head back slightly. His eyes fell half-closed, and he peeked out at you from beneath his lashes. He let his lips remain parted. He suppressed his moans, opting instead for gasps and grunts. It would make better content, he figured, if he could start small and build up to it. It was taking a lot of effort to hold back.

“More?” he asked meekly, trying to make his voice loud enough for the cameras, yet quiet enough to keep up the submissive appearance. Although, he supposed it was more than an appearance. With some time, practice and confidence, maybe he’d be able to play a different role. For now, this is what it was. His body trembled slightly with the nerves and the sensations.

“Hm? What was that?” Your movements slowed down a little, much to Wilbur’s dismay. “Did you just ask something of me without saying please?” You leaned down, your face hovering inches from his. “You remember when I told you that you only get what I give you, right?”

“Y-yes,” Wilbur said. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good.” He sighed as you ruffled his hair, his brown eyes wide and gazing up at you full of desperation. “I promise.”

“Then say please,” you replied. “You can say please, can’t you, baby?”

Wilbur nods, a sharp, jerky movement. “C-can I please have more?” he asks.

“More what?” you asked innocently. Your hips continued rocking back and forth, so languidly that it was frustrating. “What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.”

“I-I want it harder,” Wilbur replied. “F-faster. Please? Please, I need it.” With every passing moment, Wilbur became less and less aware of the cameras picking up his every move. If he focused hard enough, he could pretend that this wasn’t all an act. It was a dangerous game, pretending that way, but as time passed, he cared less and less.

“I guess I can give you what you want,” you said nonchalantly. “If you promise to be good.” Your movements picked up speed, hips thrusting slightly faster but just as shallowly. You weren’t thrusting all the way to the hilt, but Wilbur did his best to be patient despite wanting it desperately.

“I promise,” he panted out. “Please. I’ll be good.”

“Good boy,” you cooed. Wilbur felt a shiver go down his spine, and his shivers immediately turned to gasps as your thrusts got harder, faster, more forceful. He tried to tilt his hips a little, make you brush against his prostate, but you refused to comply, still avoiding the spot entirely. He let out a whine, high-pitched and needy. It was almost embarrassing, but based on the way you only smirked wider and picked up the pace, it was clear that you weren’t about to judge him for it.

Wilbur let himself get a little louder. He was tempted to cup your face, to run his fingers gently along your sides. He almost did before remembering that this wasn’t real. You didn’t love him. This was just sex. His second time ever, with someone he’d been crushing on obsessively, and none of it was even real. Despite how good he felt physically, he started to feel like shit mentally. The thoughts combined with your movements caused him to tear up a little bit, much to his embarrassment. He felt his eyes burn a little, and he glanced away from your face, trying to hide it.

It was no use. You saw. “Color?” you asked softly, too quiet for the cameras to pick up properly. Your eyes held a somewhat concerned expression. Immediately, Wilbur felt bad for upsetting you.

“Green,” he replied easily. “I’m okay. Promise.” He even managed a small smile.

You nodded, the worry slowly melting from your face. He moaned as your movements picked up speed again, and then whined as you finally, finally, hit his prostate. His moans got increasingly loud as you continued hitting that spot with every thrust of your hips, burying yourself inside of him to the hilt of your strap. He looked down between his legs as best he could, watching you move in and out of him. He could only look for a moment before having to tilt his head back and whine once again.

“Look at you,” you cooed. “So desperate for my cock, huh?”

“Y-yes.” Wilbur gripped the sheets with one hand and your shoulder with the other. “Please, please, please don’t stop.” His voice came out sounding whiny and pathetic, wobbling with every word.

“You’re doing so good,” you replied. “Taking me so well.” Wilbur moaned once more as you gripped his hips, using the hold as leverage to help you thrust harder.

He could feel himself getting close. He noticed how much pre-cum he was leaking, small drops of it dripping down his cock. “S-so close,” he whined. His hand subconsciously went to his length, but you quickly pulled his hand away.

“Not without my permission,” you chided him. He gasped as you continued your movements.

“Please,” he said desperately. “Please, I need…fuck, I need you to touch me. Please.”

You grinned and wrapped a hand around his cock, slowly pumping him up and down. He let out an embarrassingly loud moan. After just a few movements of your hand, his hips were twitching. He let out a series of swears and pleas, his words nearly incoherent as he finished, cum coating your hand and his stomach. You murmured soft words of praise, but he could barely register them.

His vision was hazy as you stopped moving. He gasped for air, panting. He felt numb and overstimulated all at once. His hand that was gripping the sheets slowly loosened its grip, and he let his hand fall from your side. “Thank you,” he murmured. His throat felt scratchy and dry.

“You were such a good boy,” you said, running a hand down his hip to his thigh. You pulled out, and he gasped at the feeling. You leaned in close to him, your faces inches apart. “We’ll have to do this again sometime, yeah?” He nodded eagerly before you pulled away.

He watched as you turned off the cameras, and he finally let himself relax, laying down fully on the bed. His gaze went from you to the ceiling before he closed his eyes. He needed a break, a few moments to collect himself, to come back to reality. His eyes still burned, and he let a few tears escape down his cheeks. How could something so pleasurable also be so painful?

He laid there for a few moments, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself. He closed his eyes, trying to will the tears away. He couldn’t get over the thought that this wasn’t enough, that he needed more of you, and he needed it to be real. It was as if all his years of loneliness were catching up to him at once. Every night that he wished someone would hold him, every day that he’d spent pining after people who would never love him back…not to mention the constant self-loathing that came from the small amount of self awareness that he had, the awareness that he was a creep who nobody could ever love.

Wilbur heard you as you took off the harness before walking over to his side. “You alright?” you asked. Your voice was soft, concerned. “Was I too rough with you? Do you want some water, or maybe something to eat?”

Wilbur opened his eyes and sat up a bit. “Um…water would be good. And no, you weren’t too rough with me.” He wiped his tears off his cheeks and managed a smile. “You were a lot less rough with me than I am with myself, honestly.”

You grinned back at him. “Okay, I’ll get you some water. If you want to clean yourself up, the bathroom is to the right of the entrance to my room. There are washcloths in the drawer under the sink.”

“Thanks,” he said. Some warm water to help wipe the sweat off him sounded almost magical. “I’ll go do that.” He slowly got off the bed, feeling a little shaky. Your kindness and the sweet sound of your voice had taken away some of his pain, but the loneliness lingered in his mind like an ever-present itch that he couldn’t reach the source of.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” you called after him. He went into the bathroom and closed the door.

He used the bathroom, cleaned himself up, and was about to head back to your room when something caught his eye. You had a laundry hamper in the bathroom, and on top of the pile of laundry, nearly blended in with the surrounding fabric, was a pair of black underwear.

He immediately beat himself up for even thinking about taking it…but god, it was tempting. He would have something of you always, something you’d touched. More than just touched. He could keep it in his room, with his things, a little souvenir.

The only other souvenir he’d ever kept was from the girl he was obsessed with in high school. She had once torn out a page of notes and dropped them in the trash can, and he had fished it out and kept it. Of course, he’d thrown it out after she’d called him out for being a creep.

Never had he had something like this. But he quickly realized that, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t take it. He was naked, so it wasn’t like there was a pocket to hide it in.

He pushed away the disappointment and left the bathroom. It was better this way, better that he not have the opportunity to do what he wanted. Despite knowing that it was for the best, he couldn’t help but feel upset by it.

He re-entered your room, where you were sitting on the bed. You’d changed out the duvet, and there was a glass of water on the nightstand for him. You were dressed again in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and he felt more exposed than ever. You turned when you heard him enter, and immediately, he was given a smile. “Feeling better?”

Wilbur nodded and smiled back. “Much better, thanks.” He glanced around and saw his clothing on the floor. “I’m just gonna…”

Your eyes flitted to the pile of his clothes. “Right. Good idea.” You then glanced at the dresser in the corner of your room. “Hold on, I have something you can wear instead of that uncomfortable button-up you were wearing.”

Wilbur was about to protest and say that the button-up was fine (despite the fact that it was cheap and a little itchy in reality), but he quickly shut his mouth and worked on getting his jeans and boxers on. If you had something for him to wear, something that was yours, that would be a dream come true. He watched you as you shuffled through a drawer.

“Here it is,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. He saw as you picked up a t-shirt, one that was definitely too big for you. “I have this extra shirt. I accidentally ordered a few sizes too big, so you can have it if you want.” You tossed it over to Wilbur, and he caught it.

It was a band t-shirt. Wilbur recognized the band as one of your favorites. “Are you sure?” he asked. The material was soft in his hands, and Wilbur swore that it smelled like you.

“Yeah, I’m never going to wear it. It’s yours.”

Wilbur held it like it was precious. He examined it before sliding it on. It fit him well, not too loose but not too tight. He looked over at you and immediately noticed that you were looking right back at him. “It fits really well,” Wilbur said. “Thank you. This is much better than my other shirt.”

“No kidding,” you replied. “That thing felt like it was awful to wear.” You paused. “Plus, you look good in it.”

Wilbur could hardly believe it. You had complimented his appearance twice. In one day. “Thanks,” he said, his voice slightly shaky. “I, um, appreciate it.” He reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and sat down in order to steady himself. He took a sip, immediately feeling refreshed. He hadn’t realized how dry his throat felt.

“Anytime.” You sat beside him on the bed. “Can I…ask you something serious?”

Wilbur put down the glass and turned his full attention to you. He saw the slight concern in your expression, and his small smile quickly faded. “Sure. What’s up?”

You tilted your head slightly as you looked at him. “Are you okay? I know that you said you were alright, but you seem a little shaken up still. I’m just a bit worried.”

He sighed, trying to figure out what to say. On the one hand, he could be honest. At least, a little bit honest. You didn’t need to know the full truth. On the other hand, he could insist that he was fine. He worked through the options in his mind, and settled on a half-truth.

“I, uh, have never been pegged before,” he said. “This was my first time. I think I just got a little overwhelmed is all.” He paused, and when he saw your expression grow more concerned, quickly added, “But I’m fine! Really, you were great. You didn’t do anything wrong, and it was a good first time. A great first time.” He could feel his cheeks get slightly hot, but he did his best to stay relaxed.

You looked surprised, your eyes slightly wide. “You…you got pegged for the first time, just now, on camera?” You shook your head, a barely noticeable movement. “That’s…brave. I’ve never done something for the first time on camera.”

“Yeah…yeah, I probably should’ve prepared beforehand,” Wilbur said. “But I just figured…it’s not like I’ve never done anything anal on my own. I figured it would be fine, and it was.”

“But you looked upset,” you said.

“Just overwhelmed,” Wilbur replied. “I promise it’s okay.” The last thing he wanted to do was deter you by making you feel bad. Besides, it really wasn’t your fault.

“Wilbur…” You looked away, pausing as if considering what to say. “Allison showed me a short clip the other day of that video you two filmed, and…and I don’t know if it was just an act, but I got the feeling that you were very new to what you were doing.” You looked back at him, and he felt the intense desire to disappear, to change the subject, because how could he admit how little experience he had without being intensely embarrassed? “Was that…did you ever have sex before that?”

Once again, Wilbur had the choice between honesty or a lie. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that he wanted to try for more with you—more than just friendship, and definitely more than business partners. The terrifying thing was this: if he wanted that, truly wanted that, then he would have to be honest with you at some point.

“...No,” Wilbur said, barely audible. He avoided eye contact. “I was, um, too nervous to tell her that it was my first time. I wanted to do a collab, so I just didn’t say anything.” He fidgeted with his fingers, trying to distract himself. “I…maybe I was wrong to do that. I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, I just didn’t want to wait around for things to happen for real, because I need the money now, not later, and…and it didn’t seem like anything was going to happen anytime soon, so…” He shrugged, hoping that the explanation was enough.

“And…and was it good?” you asked. “Like, was it a good first time for you? Did you enjoy it?”

Wilbur thought back to it. Allison was nice, sure. She was amenable, very understanding when it came to the fact that Wilbur was new in the industry. And yeah, Wilbur had finished that first time with her, but when he really thought about it, he couldn’t say it was enjoyable. It wasn’t enjoyable, being with somebody he had no connection with. It wasn’t enjoyable knowing that this incredibly vulnerable moment of his life was being livestreamed in real time, and it definitely wasn’t enjoyable that his first time was done for profit rather than for the experience, for the fun.

“I mean, does anyone enjoy their first times?” Wilbur managed to dodge the question, but his eyes still didn’t meet yours.

“Yeah! Well…I don’t know. They’re generally not good in the sense of being physically pleasurable, but they don’t have to be awful,” you said. “I just…I can’t imagine doing that in front of a camera, streamed live like that. And it sounds to me like you did it because you didn’t feel like you had any other choice.”

Wilbur finally looked up at you, scared of a reprimand, scared of your judgment. But all he saw in your expression was worry and kindness. “I…I’ve just never really had the opportunity,” he said quietly. “I’ve never been in a proper relationship. I kissed a girl, like, once in high school, but that was it. And then not again until Allison. I just wanted to get it over with, to feel…I don’t know. Normal, I guess. Desirable. Like…like someone wanted me.”

The second the words came out, Wilbur was mortified. He’d never told anyone any of this, and the fact that he’d told you of all people, the second time he’d ever spoken to you in person, made him wish he could turn back time and erase this entire conversation.

He felt you gently take his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said, “that things didn’t turn out the way you would have liked.”

Wilbur looked down at his hand, gently wrapped in yours, and he gave it a small squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said. “It wasn’t awful.”

“Still,” you said. “It sucks.”

“It does suck.” He watched as you let go of his hand, hiding his disappointment. “Anyway, um…I’m sorry to unload all that on you,” he said, his self awareness returning to him.

“It’s fine, Wil. We’re friends, and I wouldn't have said what I said if I wasn’t prepared for a response,” you said. “Really, it’s okay.”

He could hear the softness in your voice, the hint of concern. It nearly made him cry again, just knowing that somebody cared about him at all. “Thank you,” he said. “I…I really appreciate it.” The words felt so tame in comparison to what he wanted to say, but all the words he could think of seemed too much. He couldn’t believe that you’d referred to him as a friend, that you wanted to continue associating with him. It seemed too good to be true.

One thing was certain: it would take a lot of willpower to make this obsession go away, and Wilbur wasn’t sure he had it in him to let you go.

To Wilbur’s absolute delight, his time with you didn’t end there. After filming, he stayed for dinner. He ate pizza with you on your couch, watching a cheesy 80s movie and making fun of the special effects. Admittedly, he watched you far more than he watched the film, and he felt shivers every time you looked his way.

Over the course of the next week, he messaged you every day. Sometimes, it was because he messaged first, and other times, you were the one to reach out. He forced himself to exercise some restraint, to not be too eager. You made it difficult. Many of the texts were about the video, you giving Wilbur updates on the editing progress. At the end of the week, it went live. Wilbur was notified by your message:

Done! Let’s see how this goes

Wilbur grinned, swallowing back all the anxiety that he felt. What if it was bad? What if people didn’t like it? What if his inexperience showed on camera?

He shoved it all down and sent a reply.

Sweet

After a moment, he was struck both by how boring his last message was and how great of an opportunity this presented him with.

Want to celebrate tonight? Drinks on me?

He waited anxiously for a reply. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed with no response, until finally, your name appeared on his screen.

How about that bar a block from my place? You know the one?

Wilbur did, in fact, know the one. He’d passed it on the drive to your apartment.

I know it. Send the address and I’ll be there

Eight?

He smiled.

Eight sounds perfect :)

Once again, he couldn’t believe his luck. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, combed his hair. He left early to make sure that he was there in time and that you wouldn’t be stuck waiting for him. The cab ride to the bar felt like it took a million years, and when he got there, you were sitting at the bar waiting for him.

The bar was packed. There was music blasting over the speakers, some pop song that Wilbur couldn’t place, though he’d heard it over the radio a million times. He sat beside you at the bar. “Hey!” he said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

You greeted him with equal enthusiasm. “You made it!”

“Of course I made it,” he said, grinning. He could already feel his cheeks get warm, although whether it was from the crowded bar or his proximity to you, he couldn’t tell. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Only about five minutes,” you replied. “But I got here early. Still waiting for the bartender.”

“Perfect.” Wilbur glanced at his surroundings. The scene reminded him of when he’d first met you. It was hard to believe that it had been less than a month. “Is the video doing well?” It was too early to draw many conclusions, of course, but he was curious.

“Holy shit, you have no idea,” you said, grinning. “People love the video. Already, I’m getting messages asking for more of it.” You seemed proud of yourself, and Wilbur couldn’t blame you. You’d done most of the work, after all.

He could feel his heart pounding. People loved it, which meant that you would probably want to do it again. More time spent with you, more excuses to see you…it all sounded perfect. “So when is part two?” Wilbur asks. “If people love it, I mean…we should probably get to filming more material, right?”

Your smile faltered, and his heart immediately sank. Of course. Of course it was all too good to be true, too perfect to be real. He should have known better. When you finally spoke, Wilbur was already bracing himself for rejection. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said. Before Wilbur could say anything, you continued. “Not because I don’t like you, okay? I…I won’t lie, it was fun. I’m just…”

“You can be honest,” Wilbur said, so quietly that he could barely be heard over the sounds of chatter and music. “If you don’t like me and don’t want to do it again, that’s okay. I get it.” He knew that he sounded pathetic and self-deprecating, but he had no clue what else to say.

“Wil, I just said that it wasn’t because I don’t like you,” you said. “Please take my word for it.” Wilbur nodded, slightly embarrassed. “The reason I don’t want to film more is because I’m a little worried about you.”

Oh. In a way, that was a relief to hear. It meant that you didn’t dislike him. On the other hand, he was terrified. Did you see him as pathetic? He wouldn’t blame you, but it was still a blow to his ego. “...Why?” he finally asked.

“I just…” You sighed. “You were literally crying, Wil. It was concerning. And I’m not saying that you did anything wrong, because you didn’t, I just think that…” You laughed, a short, nervous sound. “Fuck, I don’t know how to phrase this without sounding insensitive.”

Wilbur froze. You were going to call him a creep, pathetic, a loser. He just knew it. “Just say it,” he said, his voice trembling.

“You have some things to sort out,” you said finally. “This type of job can ruin you if you don’t have the self-esteem to handle it. I’ve seen it before. People go into it feeling like shit about themselves, and then all the validation they get is purely sexual, and it fucks with them when they don’t get that validation anymore. It can be hard to separate your sense of self from your sex appeal, you know? But you have to.”

Wilbur took a deep breath. That was somehow worse than anything he’d anticipated you saying. He wasn’t a creep in your eyes, maybe, but he was broken. He had low self-esteem. You saw him as something to be pitied, and that was a hard pill to swallow. He kept opening his mouth to speak, only to close it again. He finally gave up. “Okay,” he said finally. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

You went quiet. It was only until the bartender showed up that you spoke again, ordering some drink that Wilbur couldn’t make out the name of due to being lost in his own thoughts. When you asked him what he wanted, he replied with water. He didn’t feel like drinking anymore.

After the bartender left, Wilbur felt your eyes on him. “Yeah?” he questioned. “What?”

“Did you actually listen to what I said?”

“What? Yeah, of course I did.”

“Wilbur…”

“I get it,” Wilbur said quickly. “I know that I’m…that I’ve based my whole life around this, and I know that it’s concerning, and I get it. But what else am I supposed to do?”

“Take a break,” you suggested.

“I need the money.”

“Okay, well, go back to solo content for a bit. Because I think you need a moment to think things through.”

It didn’t sound so bad, actually, going back to doing things alone for a while. As long as he still had you in some capacity, maybe it would turn out okay. “Alright,” he said. “I could do that.”

“Good.” You thanked the bartender as he handed you your drink before turning back to Wilbur. “I think it would be good for you.”

“Probably,” he admitted. He sipped his water, trying to enjoy your presence despite the war of emotions he had going on. It took him a moment for him to ask the question that he wanted to ask. “...Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“No,” you replied immediately. “I just think you need some time off.”

He accepted the answer, but there was one more thing he needed to ask. “I’m sorry if this is…weird,” he said carefully. “But I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date sometime. Like, a proper date, not…”

“An amateur porn filming session?”

“Right. That.” Wilbur felt his hands trembling. “Um…we could go out to dinner sometime. Wherever you want.” He felt dizzy, his breathing shallow and his heart pounding way too fast. “If you want to.”

You took an agonizingly slow sip of your drink. “I’d like that,” you said finally. You smiled at him, and it was like everything falling into place. Wilbur could breathe. You hadn’t rejected him.

And soon enough, he would have you, one way or another.

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