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mirohlayo · 5 months

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THE ONLY ONE | LN4

( lando and you are on a break because of an argument. but he needs you back. )

warning : angst, fluff, some jealousy, happy ending ofc

word count : 5.1k

note : the longest thing i have ever written with 5k words 😭 pretty proud of it, hope it's not too long lol

!! english not my first language !!

lando sighs as he watches for around the 30th time your instagram story. it was a picture of your outfit of the day, but the little detail - or big detail for him - was the unknown man standing next to you and his clothes matching with yours. lando can't help but rewatch again and again your story throughout all the day. of course, he loves your outfit. he thinks everything suits you, either an elegant dress or just a big hoodie. it was not the problem. but why the fuck your outfit matched with the one of an other man than him ? he just don't understand. usually, he would be and was the only one to match with your outfit. it was kind of your love language, and lando loves it. every time you asked him to wear the same clothes as you, he never refused the offer and even lend you one of his hoodie. it is something very special for him, so when he saw you doing this with an other man than him, he really didn't like it. actually, he hated it.

and the worse ? he is once again looking at your story, laying in your shared bed in his monaco apartment, clinging to your pillow. oh poor him. there is still the scent of you and your shampoo filled in the pillow you used to sleep on when you passed the nights with your loved one. he's holding onto it anytime he's missing you, which is basically every minutes. he smells your fragrance, finding so much comfort in it. and he would also imagines you next to him, cuddling his body and playing with his hair. but these are just memories now. it seems long time ago for him, when the last time you saw each other was actually around 3 weeks now. but it was not a good last time. completely the opposite. and he curses himself when he remembers what happened that day.

"fuck, who is this... thing ? guy ?" he says, throwing his phone over the blankets. for real, who was this man next to you ? have you already forget him and moved on ? but no, you guys are still together. theoretically. yes, the last time you talked to each other was during an argument, but when you left him all alone in his apartment, you didn't say you broke up with him. you just left, furious and mostly hurt. you were on a break. you didn't talk together since the argument, didn't send any text messages that you both would always send every hours because of how much you missed each other. 3 weeks without any contacts. but the thing you don't know is lando still looking at your social medias accounts everyday, missing you dearly. sometimes he hesitates, if he should like or not your stories.

every days, every hours, every minutes, every seconds are hurtful without you. he's still playing again and again in his head the last smile he captured of you. he is missing you so fucking bad. and the only person he can blame is himself. yes, he is the one to blame at. he was the one who started the argument and the one to say the most rude and hurtful words. and he feels so much guilty about it. he can't stand the fact he was the one who hurt and upset the most precious person to his eyes. everything is his fault. and now he thinks he's just a fool who don't deserve you. it pains so much his heart, and he's getting sick of it. he needs you again. he needs to see you again. he needs to kiss and hug you again.

he let a scream out, overthinking about the situation. he grabs his phone and opens the text app. he clicks on your name, and starts typing something. but what ? hello ? hi ? can we talk together ? no. he just can't send you some stupid messages and thinks everything will be perfect again like 3 weeks ago. what was he thinking ? he sighs longly and decides to take a shower to stop thinking about you. but he damn knows that's impossible because every single thing reminds him of you.

like taking showers. you would often showered with him because he loves showering together. washing your hair and hugging you to warm your freezing body meanwhile the cold water was turning hot. and then after you doing his haircare routine, styling his damp curls while he was just looking at you with adoration. or when you guys would spend your evenings together, cuddling close under a woolen plaid on the couch, watching a movie until one of you two would fall asleep. or when you cooked some recipes and it ended up in a food battle. god he's craving of those moments again. he really needs to do something...

race day. it is sunday today and of course lando have to race. he don't know it, but you are in the paddock club. yes, even if you're on a break in your relationship, you couldn't miss a race and decided to attend it. those last 3 weeks, you didn't miss a single one races. you didn't attend them, because you were still hurt by lando's words and you didn't want his fans to see you present there, so you just watched the races and your papaya driver on the tv. but you missed so much seeing him in reality, so you attend today's race. of course, you are wearing glasses and a cap to not be recognizable. and you're also sitting in a hidden corner.

lando has no clue that you are here, watching his car moving around. and you have no clue that he is thinking about you and the way he's going to apologize to you. so as the race passes, you keep an eye on his car. your heart and your being feels weird. the amount of love you have for him is still here, and it never shaded away for the past 3 weeks. not a single bit. but of course you are still upset and hurt. the words he said to you broke you into tears. you love him so much, never you loved someone like that. so when he told you those mean things, you felt weak. and very very sad.

in a blink, the race is already finished. fans wave at the drivers who are celebrating the podium with their race team. you smile, admiring the place. you would be lying if you said you didn't missed races. you were always happy to attend one. maybe for the race, or maybe just to spend more time with lando. by the way, he didn't finish on the podium but still get p4. and despite the fact you are still gloomy, you are proud of him, like usually. because he's just the best after all.

now you have to leave the track. of course, you would have love to stay and join your favorite driver, but he don't know you are here and you don't want him to see you. because nobody has already apologize. and it's been 3 weeks since you haven't seen and spoken to him. it would be awkwardly embarrassing. so you have to take precautions and be prudent to not be seen by any mclaren team member. you go down the balcony's stairs, lowering your head and hiding your face with the cap. of course it has to be an orange cap, because it is the only hat you have. an other way to be even more discreet, huh. but it works well. you are now in the paddock area, just in front of the mclaren one. you recognize a lot of engineers and people who work with your boyfriend and you hope deep inside you they don't see and recognize you. but it seems like you failed it.

"y/n ?" oh. oh... it's not just anyone. it's not just a random maclaren team member. no. it is him. it's his voice. his voice that you missed hearing. it's lando norris. you stop, and don't know what to do. and don't know how to react. so you stay like this, turning your back on him. "y/n ? is it you ?" you close your eyes and exhale, you're not really in the mood to talk to him. the only person you shouldn't meet is now facing you. you turn around and keep your head low, you don't have the force to look at him.

you just remove your glasses and put them in your pocket. "why are you here ?" he asks confused, but you can tell he's concerned about it. "to... support you, i guess ?". you finally give up and cross his gaze. and it aches your heart. he looks tired, i mean of course he just finished a 2 hours race but still he looks even tired than usually. his face is pale, doesn't have much color. and his eyes are so tiny, so many emotions in them. "oh ok. huhh thank you...". he answers awkwardly. you bite your lower lip, the atmosphere is, well, very awkward yes. "so, how are you?" you ask to get rid of this tension.

how he is ? fuck this question. he doesn't even want to answer. does he really need to say that he blames himself every day, that he can't sleep because of how much he cries thinking about you, that he skips dinners because of how bad he's feeling ? he never felt like that with any person. it is the first time his whole being aches that much. but he can't tell you that, he knows you will not forgive him that easily. "good. and you ?" he says, avoiding your gaze. "good too" you hum sotfly. he knows damn well that's a lie, because even your tone betrayed you. he tries to take a look at you. his heart squeezes in pain, the view in front of him is heartbreaking. you look as tired as him. and as pale as him too. where is the smile he loves so much gone ? the shining sparkles in your pretty eyes ?

he fights the urge to pull you in his arms. but he's the one at fault, he can only blame himself. "hum, i'll go now" "no." he answers back to back and you look at him confused and surprised. "i-i mean you're going back to monaco ?" he stutters. "no, i'll join a friend of mine" you says coldly. "oh... ok..." god he sounds so sad, it pains you. you struggles to not hug him. because yes, you're hurt, but you still love him like crazy. "well... oh and good job today" you quickly say and starts to leave, not wanting to stay more here. you don't turn back, but lando is now smiling softly, watching you fade away in the crowd. "thank you, love" he whisper to himself.

he sighs, blinking slowly. now memories are coming back, and he remembers what happened that night, when everything went wrong in only one second.

- -

you were very tired. a hard day of work. so when you came home, in your lover's apartment in monaco, all you wanted was to follow him around like a puppy and cuddle him. you were so clingy and so needy. it was rare, very very rare for you to be like that, all clingy and needy, so when that night you doubled it, it was kind of surprising and shocking. usually, lando loves when you get clingy, when you want him all for yourself. because it not happens often, so of course he cherishes these moments. but that night, it was different. he didn't like the way you acted with him. you kept following him around the apartment, touching him gently and innocently. like grabbing his hand, placing soft kisses on his cheeks, back hugs. you just wanted his attention. you just wanted your lover. but he didn't seems he felt the same about you. first, he didn't care much. he just didn't returned back your affection. but the more you were getting clingy, the more he was getting angry. he started to hate it.

you tried to kiss him on the lips and instead of kissing you back roughly, he turned his head and your lips pressed against his cheek. you paused for a second, confused. you frowned and tried to understand why he did that. why your lover didn't return back your hugs ? your kisses ? why he acted like you didn't even exist ? you placed your hand on his forearm but he shifted. your heart squeezed, why was he like this ? usually, he was the neediest one and the one getting even clingier. you were lost.

"baby, why you don't kiss me back ?" you asked softly. lando sighed and he seemed annoyed. he didn't even dare to reply. which hurt you. you moved and stopped before him. "something is wrong ? something bothers you ?" you tried to understand why he was in this mood, you wanted to help him talk about whatever bothered his thoughts. but you didn't expect to hear that. "yes, you." he hissed. your face deformed. did you hear well ? "w-what ?" you stuttered. "you. it's you. you fucking annoy me". you blinked and took some few steps back. your being hurt, your heart was broken. "what do you mean ?"

"you're so clingy and needy and i fucking hate it. stop being like that and stop touching me. you're so annoying" he threw these words at you, giving you a death look as his furrowed his brows. oh pain was real. you felt weak, you thought it was all a dream. but no, your lover was here, saying harsh words to you and kept hurting your poor little heart. and while you tried to understand his behavior - because he would never talk bad to you like that - a bulb lighted in your head.

it was qualifying. you remembered lando's week went bad and hard for him. bad practices, no luck, his slow car, his poor performance... nothing went right. and you knew how much f1 had an important impact on him and his mental health. he was so hard on himself and sometimes he would overthink about why he sucks at racing. this explains why he was acting like a shit with you. you knew it was that. he didn't want to do a bad race tomorrow. so instead of calm down and talk about it with you, he let out all his anger on you. it was like he took you as a punching ball and kept punching you, until you broke in pieces. you understand how he felt, racing is his job, he has to be the best. but let out his anger on your poor person even though you did nothing wrong, you couldn't take that. yes, he had the right to be angry and annoyed and whatever, but being harsh towards you won't make his performance better. so you tried to talk with him. or maybe argue with him.

"lando, please. i know you don't mean what you say." he stared at you and then walk closer to you. his gaze get through yours, and a storm appeared in it. "yes, i mean it y/n. you're getting on my nerves and i don't like that. maybe i don't like you too". wow. it was harsh. it was like getting stabbed again and again. he don't like you ? he really meant it ? now you were about to cry. tears filled your eyes, and you breathed harder to not let them run. and of course lando noticed it. "what, really ? are you going to cry ? you're the one who started it all and you think you can cry ? gosh you're so pathetic y/n". you shook your head and looked away because you knew soon your tears will drop. was he saying bullshit now ? "oh, you're really crying" he made fun of you and your statement. but you couldn't stand here and just cry. you had to speak up, to explain how you felt and explain that letting out his anger on you was not the solution. "please lando stop. i know it's because of racing that you're acting like that. you can be upset and annoyed but it can't justify the fact you burst your emotions on me. i did nothing wrong, i just want to help yo-" "it's not about racing !!!!" he yelled at you.

you almost jumped because of how much he scared you. he never yelled at you. never ever. he was so different from the lando you knew. lando was the perfect, caring, kindness boyfriend. who was so in love with you. not someone who yell and hurt you. "you can't even see it's you the problem. i don't need your shitty cuddles and hugs and everything. i never wanted you and i don't even need you. you sucks". "lando pleas-" "i wish i had never met you". and then he passed you to crawl on the couch, turning on the tv. he looked like he didn't even care about you anymore. your heart cried as your being hurt. the best thing that have ever came into your life just said he wish he had never met you. how hurtful it is. and you thought it was the race who made him angry like that, but it seemed like it's not the reason anymore. just him speaking maybe the truth and what he thinks about you. and you wished you were dreaming. but no, it was not.

you never had an argument with him. or when something was wrong, you would always talk about it. but it was so different. the person you loved the most broke you. pain, yeah, pain filled your body. it ached badly. you just wanted to leave. run far far away. so he couldn't hurt you anymore. "i'm leaving. i can't stay with you anymore so i'll go" "then go. get out of my apartment. i would be better off without you". it was one sentence too many. your tears ran down your cheeks, your face. you couldn't stop them. so you just leave, shutting the door behind you, as the one who broke you started to realize little by little what happened. and it was when guilt started to kick him.

"so fucking dumb you are" max says again, cursing at his friend's behavior towards you. "i know. don't remind me. i'm such an idiot" lando says again, cursing at himself. he is laying on his bed, re-watching your new instagram stories while max is sitting on the other side of the bed. "and for the fucking 40th time please stop looking at her stories. you've been doing this since this morning." max states, and try to grab his friend's phone who dodge it effortlessly. f1 driver reflexes yes. "then you stop sitting on this side of the bed. y/n's perfume will disappear because of you and your stinky scent". max rolls his eyes and finally stand up. "you're miserable".

lando sighs, and throws his phone over the blankets. "max help me... i'm so fucking lost without her." "but it's your own fault. you're the one to blame at". he shrugs and shake his head. "i know it's my fault max. don't you know i'm literally dying every single day because of how much i miss her ? that i'm crying because i will never find someone like her ? i'm in a shitty situation and i don't feel well because she's not with me. look, i'm in a pitiful state even though we did not even broken. what will i be like if we break up for real ? i don't even want to imagine it because i already know it will be awful." he passes his hand in his hair, ruffling them. "i've never felt like that about any exes, anyone. it's the first time i suffer like this, i don't know what to do...". max looks at his friend and his gaze softens. he hates seeing his best friend suffer, he can't stand it. "lando i can help you. and i will help you. but you have to promise me that you-" "SHE TEXTED ME !!!" lando suddenly screams.

"what ??" max jumps on the bed and sit next to him. "MAX !! SHE SENT ME A MESSAGE" lando is going crazy, he is just shocked. he don't even realizes what happens, he thinks he's dreaming. his heart is beating faster now. but max sighs as he reads the text you just sent, a simple "i'm coming to pick up some things in the evening". it is more a negative message because it means you're not staying in your boyfriend's apartment, but still lando is relieved by this one text. "lando, she's not staying. she's coming to pick up things because she don't want to live with you" "but it's her first text since 3 weeks ago ! she thinks about me too!"

max shakes his head and closes his eyes because he's getting a headache. "mate you don't get it" he says. but his friend don't listen, he is too focused on his phone. because he knows he's going to see her girlfriend soon, and he knows it will be the moment to apologize, to show her how much he cares about her. "max, help me. give me advices please. i'm listening". and then the two would spend the whole afternoon together, the streamer giving advices to the driver. lando is prepared, he don't want to loose his chance.

and then someone knocks on the door. he knows it is you because it's now around 6pm. max left 30 minutes ago. so it means you two will be alone together. lando almost tumbles because he ran towards the door at the speed of his mclaren livery. he takes a breath and opens the door.

oh.

your pretty face. the first thing he saw. his heart squeezes at the sight of you. your eyes, scanning his face and his body while he does the same for you. he can't believes you're standing in from of him, even though he saw you last week on sunday. but he's feeling worried now. you look super tired. dark circles under your tired eyes, your cheekbones more visible. you are as terrible as him. nobody dare to talk, and you start to feel awkward. "can i enter or maybe i just stay here until tomorrow ?" you say. "o-oh yes, come..." he shifts and you walk inside the apartment. and a weird feeling seizes you. every rooms of the apartment holds a memory from you and your boyfriend. the kitchen where he would cooks your breakfast, the living room where you would play karaokes. you feel nostalgic. and remember these memories makes you want to stay, to forgive lando, to be back together like before. but you put yourself together and fight this urge. you came for your things, not for him. or maybe it was also your intention. "how are you ?" he asks cautiously. "good. what about you ?" you reply. "good too". no, lies. from both of you.

you make your way to the bedroom. the first thing you see is your pillow above lando's one, as is he was sleeping on it. and the fact is that he was truly sleeping on it, your scent lulled him every nights. you put your suitcase on the bed and open it, you don't want to waste time. but there is a problem. and it's a big one. you have to sleep with lando tonight. not maybe in the same bed, but still you have to pass the night in his, well your shared apartment. those past 3 weeks, you were hosting at one of your friend's house. when lando asked you to moved in with him, you sold your old apartment. that's why you had nowhere to go, and lando was so worried about it but you weren't aware of it of course.

but your friend's parents were passing through and decided to pay a visit to your friend's house. you didn't want to intrude, so instead of worrying your friend you said you will buy an hotel room. what a coincidence you are now in your boyfriend apartment, sweating because you are scared to ask him to stay. so waiting for the fateful moment, you keep packing up things. you can also feel lando staring at you and his intense look burns your cheeks. "do you need anything ? you want something to eat ?" he asks sudenly, and you can hear he's caring about you by his tone. "no i'm okay, thank you" you simply answer.

your heart start pounding faster, and you sweat even more. god why were you so shy and scared ? he is your boyfriend after all, why would he refuse ? you play nervously with your necklace, the one lando gave you for your first date. you never took it off since now. "are you... okay ?" your boyfriend gives you a concerned look, he noticed you stopped packing your clothes. you take a deep breath and move to face him. "hum... can i..." your words don't want to leave your mouth. "can i stay here ? does it bothers you if i sleep here tonight ? if so then it's okay i will fin-" "no stay please." he rushes back. you look at him surprised. "i-i mean it doesn't bother me at all. you can sleep here". you give him a small smile and a little thank you. he smiles back, but unlike you it is a big, happy smile. the exact smile you love seeing from him. "huh, you can sleep on the bed, i'll go with the couch". he adds and you just nod.

lando just keep staring at you. of course, it disturbs you because sometimes you are putting useless things in your suitcase. he takes advantage of it to admire you. your body's silhouette he loved hugging, your shiny and soft hair he loved styling, your presence and its hold on him. you truly are precious to him. he knows he can't live without you in his life, it's just impossible. he needs you. not tomorrow, not in the next few hours. no. he needs you now. right now. he just can't stand the fact you're right here and can't kiss him or push him on the bed to cuddle him. he approaches you, and gently grabs your hand. surprisingly, you don't remove it and he melts down in the touch. "y/n... please listen to me". you sigh longly and turn your face to cross his eyes. you are also tired of it. even if he hurts you so bad, you can't stay far away from him because you need him as he needs you. "i'm listening". he strokes the back of your hand and takes your chin in his fingers to lift up your head, forcing you to look at him.

"i'm so fucking sorry y/n. so so sorry. you have no idea how much i blame myself and i feel so guilty every day. i'm the worst boyfriend ever, i don't even deserve you. every single minutes i keep thinking about what i said that day and if i could i would go back in time. because i regret so much those hurtful and cruel words i said to you. and you have to believe me, i didn't meant not a single word. i can't stand the fact that i'm the one who hurt you when i said i would punch the person who would did it". you try to reply back but he's so into it now. "please let me finish. i love you. i'm so madly and deeply in love with you. if you ever ask me to bring down the stars and the moon for you i'll do it. i would do anything for you. i love you. i have never loved someone like that. even with my exes, i never felt like that before, i never wanted someone so bad than you. you're the only one for me. nobody can replace you y/n. you're the best thing that ever happened to me, and i'll never let anything and anyone taking you from me. i need you in my life and i want you in my life because i can't imagine it without you. when i said i would be better without you, i so fucking lay. it's completely the opposite, i'm nothing without you. i would do anything for you to forgive me. because you're the only one, and you'll always be the only one."

tears are now running down his cheeks. and yours too. gosh he just let everything out, he has never been so desperate over someone. you can't stand it anymore and hug him tightly. he melts down in your hug and squeezes you. oh he missed you so much. he hides his wet face in the crook of your neck and keeps crying like a baby. you rub his back slowly and place a soft kiss on his hair. "i love you too lando. i'm so in love with you and i also need you." you simply say, because you know he already knows you're infatuated with him. and you guys stayed like that for fifteen minutes, lando keeping his arms around you. he don't want to let you go. he's so afraid of it now. "let's go cuddle in the bed. or maybe you still hate it" you tease him gently. "no. please. cuddle me. be clingy and needy, i'm only asking for it. don't go away from me." you two crumble into the bed and put the blankets over your bodies. lando curls up against you, his grip tight on you that you can barely breathe. he hides once again his head in the crook of your neck and one of his hand slips under your shirt, stroking your back. you start playing with his curls, something he loves and craves very much.

"i love you so much my baby" he suddenly says. you smile and peck his side profile. "me too lan". he lift up his head and your looks cross. he can't help it and a silly smile takes place on his lips. and he leans in, kissing you softly, your warm lips against his. he missed kissing you, so he really struggles to pull back. "besides i was such a liar. i'm the most needy and clingy one." you laugh hard and kiss him once again. he returns back the kiss and traces his way to your neck, planting soft kisses on it. "no for real, i would literally die without your cuddles. and just without you actually". you giggle and, you spend the rest of the night together. showering together again, cooking together again, playing karaokes together again. and of course, he didn't slept on the couch. but in your warm embrace which he's sure he'll never leave.

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sinfulpanda16 · 3 months

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Love You Too Much to Leave

Takashi Mistuya x Chubby Fem Reader

A little reassurance from ur boyfriend never hurts ^^

You did the stupid mistake of looking at one fitness influencer than another, and another, and now that's all you see in your social media. You didn't mean to but now that's all you're seeing. Pretty and thin girls. You see how they're so comfortable wearing what you wish you could wear and see how they look so good in them. Fuck, you hate feeling this way. Frustrated, you exit the app and decide to call your boyfriend, Mitsuya.

Mitsuya always knows how to make you feel better. He is your safe space You don't even have to tell him what's wrong, he'll help you either way.

After a few more rings he picks up the phone, "Hey sweetheart. What's up?" he asks as he measures the fabric he's working on carefully.

"Are you busy?" you ask a with a shaky voice. You didn't realize but there are tears in your eyes. Damn it, you didn't want him to know that something was wrong.

Mistuya stops what he's doing and asks you, "Darling whats wrong?" with concern in his voice. You sigh, telling him right now was gonna make you feel worse, so you decide to hold it off for later.

You wipe your tears away "Its nothing love. Right now the only thing I want is to meet with you." A day out will help you forget quickly about these insecurities of yours.

On the other end of the phone Mistuya smiles softly, "Of course baby. I'll come see you in a bit." Happy you thank him and hang up. See he can easily help you forget your worries.

He pulls up at your place with his bike. He goes to you and holds your hands "So whats going on sweetheart. Tell me and I promise I won't be mad."

Wait what?

"Huh? Nothing love, I just wanted to hang out with you." you say a bit startled by his abruptness.

He's quiet for a bit and starts to laugh awkwardly. "Oh. Sorry, it's just on the phone you said you wanted to meet up with me while crying." He rubs the back of his neck "I thought you were going to break up with me." He explains with relief in his voice. "I was worried."

This shocked you. You'd be stupid to leave man like him. He truly is one of a kind and the fact that he thinks you might leave him hurt you a bit. You give him a gentle kiss on his shoulder and smile at him, "Aww love. You don't ever have to worry about that. I love you too much to leave." You hold his hand gently.

Mitsuya smiles back at you and goes to kiss your lips "I love you to sweetheart. Now lets go, I know the perfect place to go." He says holding your hand as he brings you with him towards his motorcycle. He helps you on and puts your helmet on for you before you both speed away.

An amusement park.

He took you to an amusement park, where there are so many people. So many pretty girls. You tried ignoring them, but it was so hard when they were just everywhere. Any other day would've been fine but today seeing them just reminded you of the fitness influencers you would see on your phone. To make matters worse, a lot of them interacted with your boyfriend.

He accidentally bumped into one of the girls and they both smiled at each other and laughed, Mitsuya saying sorry and her telling him it was ok. That girl was pretty. Mitsuya being his cute self as he orders your guys snacks with the cute cashier. That girl was also pretty. Or worse, when you walk out of the restroom and saw a girl with her phone in her hands talking to Mitsuya. She was asking for his number and Mitsuya rejected her kindly. She was pretty too, why did he reject her? The girl walked away and Mitsuya kept waiting for you. When you went to him he happy to continue going on rides with you, but he didn't say what just had happened.

So later that evening when you two were on his bike you couldn't push away those mean thoughts in your head. You shed tears and because of the helmet you were wearing you couldn't wipe them off. Having realized this you tried to stop them but all that just caused even more stress so you stopped trying. You were at a point where you just didn't care anymore.

You make it back home and Mitsuya climbs off. Whenever he takes you anywhere on his bike he always climbs off first and then goes to picks you up and sets you down, then removes your helmet for you. So that's what he did, he put you down and then took off your helmet only to find you with tears.

"Baby?! What happened?!" he asks with a worried expression.

You wipe your tears, "I'm sorry love its just lately I've been feeling ugly and..."

He grabs your arms, "Darling when did this happen?" he asks really worried for you. He thought you were enjoying your time with him.

You might as well tell him now. "In the morning. There were so many fit people in my feed and then at the amusement park" you voice starts to shake "there were so many pretty girls. I saw one try to ask for your Instagram." You sniff and wipe those tears away.

He holds you tightly "Darling listen to me. You're the cutest being I've ever seen. I'm so addicted to just having you to look at, whether that be in person or in a picture. Why do you think I have us as my wallpaper?" You look up at him. He smiles softly, "Its so that I can say 'yes she's my gf' and possibly brag about it to the guys. I show us off don't think I don't." You giggle and he laughs, "They get so annoyed. They're just mad you picked me and not them."

You laugh at his words. Mitsuya smiles as he sees your beautiful smile. "Also, I'm sorry for not telling you about that girl trying to get my Insta, I just figured none of that was worth it cuz it was dumb." he laughs cuz he honestly forgot about that.

Yup that's your Mitsuya. Always knowing how to comfort you. You smile up at him, "Thank you love. I really needed to hear that."

He kisses you shoulder and gives you a soft smile, "I love you to much to leave." Him doing this made you fall in love with him even more. You two kiss in the sunset and look beautiful together.

#mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x you #mitsuya x reader #tokyo revengers mitsuya #mitsuya x y/n #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo rev mitsuya #mitsuya tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x y/n #mitsuya fluff

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strawberrystepmom · 8 months

Text

old flame, same glow

pairing: sex worker toji fushiguro x f!reader

word count: 6.1k

about: old feelings spur you on a wild journey of paying for sex with your high school crush but you find out in the process that maybe those feelings aren't as long forgotten as you thought.

contents: nsfw - mdni. no curses au, reader and toji are similar in age (i imagine reader to be late 20s/early 30s and toji to be early/mid 30s), oral sex (f receiving), lots and lots and lots of pining from reader, reader is very pathetic it's very sad but she's my most special meow meow.

notes: this is a repost of the sex worker toji au on my old blog - full and final, with pretty extensive edits to make it flow better. i was personally asked to repost and who am i to say no? be warned tho, for being a fic about sex work this is surprisingly sexless and for that i apologize but i wanted to focus more on the feelings rather than the smut.

thank you for your support and for reading and i hope you enjoy it!!!

dividers are thanks to @/saradika

“Is it because I’ll never be him?”

The words your now ex-fiance spit at you during that fateful last fight echo in your mind as you splash cool water over your face, the strap of your purse sagging over your shoulder. A sigh escapes as the droplets run down your nose and lips.

Him. Toji. The man became a constant issue in your relationship that never seemed to reach resolution the moment you admitted to a one-sided crush you had on him years and years ago, long before your fiance entered the picture. You hadn’t spoken to him since before his first marriage and only knew about his life through social media and occasionally running into each other at the grocery store but your ex took exception after a single cursory glance through Fushiguro’s photo sharing app feed, each picture one of him with his shirt either lifted at the bottom or so tight you can make out each and every divot of his defined core.

Exhaling out of your mouth, droplets go flying against the surface of the bathroom mirror and you fight the urge to scream or cry or maybe both looking at your soggy reflection. You’ve never felt more pathetic in your life and now the outside matches the inside.

The memory couldn’t have surfaced at a worse time and it forced you to excuse yourself from the polite man sitting across from you in a crowded restaurant, shifting through the too small gaps between tables and refusing to make eye contact with anyone else currently sitting in the restaurant as he watched you retreat.

He was introduced to you by a coworker who spent most of the week wondering why you haven’t put yourself back out there after a year of single life, but you regret saying yes. Not because you don’t enjoy his company - he’s smart, quick witted, and handsome which are all things regularly you’d be enchanted by.

Truthfully, you know it’s because he isn’t him either.

Digging your phone out of the pocket of your dress, you sigh and open your most recent conversation thread. The bold letters of his name stare back at you, an F in a circle above his last name. Fushiguro.

Free later?

Toji texted you earlier today, while you were still at work, and you opted to ignore him in preparation for tonight. The intention was to clear your mind of distractions or any entanglements you may have lingering, even those with almost unimaginably broad shoulders and green eyes that twinkle mischievously with every salacious wink and smirk he tosses your direction but you didn’t realize you’d fail your mission before 9 pm.

The sun has only barely set and here you stand in the bathroom of one of the nicest restaurants on this side of the city planning to meet up with your high school crush to pay him for sex.

Perhaps pathetic is too light of a word for how you feel but you don’t make eye contact with yourself in the mirror for long enough to think about it, gaze darting back down to the backlit screen in your palms.

Your thumbs begin to work before your mind can catch them and you stop yourself, brows furrowed as you press down to highlight the text and delete it altogether. Rubbing your free hand over your face, you sigh and glance down at the text bubble indicating he’s typing on the screen.

You know I can see you typing and deleting?

A knock on the bathroom door makes you yelp as you look over the message, dropping your phone in the still damp porcelain sink with a clatter while uttering low curses under your breath. You hear your name from the other side of the door and in your rush to grab and dry off your phone, you slip the droplet covered device back into your pocket and rush toward the door to see the waitress assigned to your table standing there.

“Uh, he asked me to come let you know that he paid the tab and you can go.”

Panic rises in your chest and your stomach turns as you gaze around her shoulder and look around the restaurant, spotting the table you were just sitting at with its unoccupied chairs.

“Fuck,” you spit before gnawing on your lower lip and the waitress watches you as one would witness a slow motion car crash - incredulously, as if this is something she has never seen before. Part of you wonders if she hasn’t ever seen a woman struggling this close to her, the youthful round of her cheeks convincing you she can’t be old enough to have a lot of life under her belt.

You shoot her an apologetic glance and she nods curtly.

“I’m sorry you had to do this,” your voice is muffled by your own shoulder while you dig through the purse and pinch out a banknote with enough zeroes to make her happy. You think it’s a 10,000 yen note but you can’t be certain and the embarrassment of the evening is carrying your feet toward the door too quickly to verify.

The door spits you out into a balmy evening but you don’t notice, filling your lungs to the brim with fresh air that feels restorative despite the heat. Patting around your body, you ground yourself with the knowledge that your phone is in your pocket. Pulling it out, you click your tongue at the new notification alert on the left side of your screen and exit your conversation with Toji to look at it.

The number isn’t saved in your phone but the words make you hiss as you look over them, shame making your face heat in a way that a warm summer night cannot even begin to replicate.

Hope dating gets simpler for you. Have a good night.

Sighing, you dawdle for a moment wondering how to respond, shifting your weight from foot to foot. People pass you on the street and you worry they’re going to start to wonder why you’ve been standing in front of the restaurant door for so long, dejectedly staring at the glowing screen in your palms.

Taking a few steps, you begin to walk in the direction of the train station and exit out of the conversation with your date, opening Toji’s contact info and holding down on his number until you hear your phone dialing him.

“Was wondering when you’d get back to me,” he doesn’t hesitate to speak as soon as he picks up the phone and you feel a flurry of butterflies erupt in your gut the moment you hear him. This is so bad, you contemplate with the click of each of your steps. So so bad. “Where you at?”

Humiliated, you dare to feel almost a little comforted by how happy he sounds to hear from you. You’re certain that this is how he sounds with all of his clients, everyone who hires him for a good time, but you want to believe so badly it’s just for you. The lilt at the end of his sentences that you know mean he’s smirking, one corner of his mouth turned up.

“Do you want to hear the truth or to hear a carefully made up lie?”

He chuckles on the other end of the phone and you wish you could listen to no other sound for the rest of your life.

“Tell me the truth. You’ve never been a great liar.”

A deep exhale deflates your posture and your gaze snaps to your feet as you make your way off to the farthest part of the sidewalk, your voice lowering to keep some shred of your dignity intact. It’s bad enough you’re venting your frustration to the man you pay for sex, you don’t want to think about how mortifying it would be to have a stranger overhear your woes.

“Well, I was on a date and got walked out on so now I’m heading toward the train station.”

A sympathetic hum and shuffling come from the other end of the line, Toji absentmindedly flicking the lighter he keeps in his pocket while you speak. The silence, no matter how momentary, makes you feel awkward and your brain leaps to overcompensate.

“Did you still want to meet? I don’t have a ton of cash but I do have time.”

Another chuckle. You hate that you feel like it’s directed at you rather than to be shared with you and the hot flush of embarrassment makes you reach for your sleeve with your free hand uncomfortably. It was too hot to wear this dress. It was a stupid idea to even come out but his voice keeps your rapt attention, his next words making you genuinely smile for the first time in hours.

“I can’t make you pay full price after getting walked out on. Come over, we’ll work it out.”

Thanking your lucky stars, you shut your eyes tightly and use every ounce of willpower inside of you to keep yourself from crying. Moisture pools at your lashline and you choose to ignore it, relaxing your jaw as you respond.

“You mean it?”

He hums affirmatively and you feel the butterflies in your stomach travel further south at the sound.

“Wouldn’t offer if I didn’t. See you in thirty.”

The call drops from the other end, your phone beeping to signify the ending but you can’t keep a giddy smile from creeping across your face as you press your phone against your chest and open your eyes. Looking up at the twinkling stars above, embarrassment gives way to something you haven’t felt in so long outside of these meetings with Toji that you wonder if you’re about to have a heart attack or something equally disturbing - the familiar flush of affectionate love.

The unimpressed gaze of your coworker follows you all the way to your desk as you make your way through the rows of desktops on Monday morning. You shrink beneath the weight of it, the wool of your pencil skirt suddenly itching more than it ever has while brushing against your legs with each step.

She must have heard about how well your date went.

The text message sent from the man still sits, unanswered, in your phone. Shame sits like a brick in your stomach and you keep your head down, even as you sit and the hydraulics of your chair squish beneath you with a “whoosh”. Bouncing back up, you refuse to make eye contact as you get settled, logging in.

“I am never setting you up again,” she spits in a hushed whisper as soon as you sit down next to her, pulling her can of coffee away from you and setting it on the opposite side of her keyboard.

“If you weren’t ready you should have just said so.”

It’s not like you can defend yourself. You weren’t and remain unready to see anyone else yet it didn’t stop you from immediately stuffing bills in Toji’s hand, legs still shaking while he helped you button your pants and sealed your goodbye with a wink and a kiss on the forehead.

This time, though, was the first time the two of you kissed outside of sex and you’re still reeling. Head fuzzy as you recall the way his scar felt brushing against you for more than immediate sexual gratification. Soft lips, firm flesh, warmth. You swear you feel a ghost of the kiss itself as you sit, surrounded by buzzing overhead fluorescent lights.

The two of you have had sex a dozen times now, once a month your usual schedule, but this time felt different. Maybe it’s the fact that you paid less than usual, maybe it’s the tender way he placed kisses from the underside of your breast clear down to your mound, watching your every move with those glimmering peridot eyes.

“Are you going to say anything?”

The accusatory voice of your coworker interrupts your reverie and you blink before turning in your direction with your head bowed. Words stick in your throat and you aren’t able to swallow so you mumble a simple “sorry” with nothing further. She scoffs and turns back toward her computer, typing loudly to indicate her annoyance as you click around your desktop.

“He walked out on me, to be fair,” you finally come up with after falling short on a near infinite amount of apologies in your head and she turns once again to stare at you. Her gaze burns and you shift in your seat, the same shame you felt at the restaurant weighing your limbs and keeping you pinned in place.

“He left because you were in the bathroom for 15 minutes with no explanation.”

She scoffs and shakes her head, typing away for a moment before turning toward you again, still unfinished with her thorough lecture about the wrongs you’ve committed. Your body still feels heavy, frozen with embarrassment of your own making, but you manage to sigh and fold your arms over your chest unenthusiastically.

��I was hoping you’d at least tell me you had an accident or something.”

Without thinking, you laugh the hardest you have in awhile and several heads peek above their desktops to glance at your unusual display. They probably think you’re losing your mind and if you were to be frank with yourself, you aren’t convinced that isn’t exactly what’s happening.

You are fantasizing during work about a man you pay to have sex with, pretending you’re anything more than a client with a little cash to blow and he’s a man with a lot of free time and a natural gift for cunnilingus.

Hiccuping, your laughter subsides and your unimpressed coworkers return to their tasks, the one sitting next to you still eyeing in a way that is borderline venomous at this point. You don't blame her, though. You fucked up and can't bring yourself to own up to it when your head is too wrapped up in remembering every peak of Toji's arms wrapped around you.

How the fuck did this happen?

She says nothing further, instead turning to her computer and leaving you to sit staring at the blinking cursor on the screen in front of you. You can unpack every single choice you've made since 16 right now and it still wouldn't lend any clarity as to why you are willing to fuck up every relationship around you for the sake of sleeping with a man who you mean nothing to.

Of course, you don't know that, but it's a safe enough assumption given the dynamic itself.

You swallow thickly, pride sliding down your throat like something you may choke on, and turn your chair toward your coworker.

"I handled it poorly and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

She scoffs, dipping her head low.

"The only person who should be embarrassed here is you."

Accepting the criticism, the truth, you plaster a smile across your face and nod once. Any argument you may have tied together at another point in your life dies and you instead turn back to your work, looking at the little clock on the bottom corner of your screen.

9:15 am.

So many hours left for shame to simmer between your ribs, a molten pool of your own failure to swim around in until you drown.

The lewd pop of Toji releasing your clit from between his lips and your panting are the soundtrack playing through his otherwise quiet apartment. Darkness envelopes both of you, so insatiable by the time you made it back here there wasn’t time to turn on the overhead lights.

I need to stop, you think in the afterglow of another orgasm delivered by the impressively skilled mouth of the man whose green eyes are fixed on your face. You take in the sight of him, chin and lips soaked from your last release that drenched him.

“Never seen ya do that before,” Toji remarks from between your thighs. Your muscles twitch on either side of his face and you giggle weakly, tired from being thoroughly fucked and devoured. He places a kiss on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut briefly as he does so.

You want to reach out and stroke his cheek, softening with every ounce of care he gives; the way his thumbs assuredly massage the outside of your thighs. It’s all so…tender. It feels like it's meant for a lover, someone you wanna fall asleep beside and rise with in the morning.

Something meant for you and someone else.

If you weren’t so tired you’d already be gone. Instead you groan softly as he rubs a final pair of circles on your skin and sits up, wiping his face across his bicep. He stands and he feels you looking at him, scoping out every nude sculpted inch of him. How is it fair that he not only fucks like a god but looks like one too?

Truly, some people get all the luck.

“Somethin’ on your mind?”

Shrugging flippantly, you let yourself melt into the comfort of his bedding, getting too used to feeling it beneath you at this point. You've increased your visits from once a month to once a week, twice if you're particularly stressed, and he certainly will never turn down a chance to make some good money.

"How many clients do you have?"

The question leaves your lips before you can really think about the implication of what you're asking but he chuckles, pulling a pair of athletic shorts and nothing else over his softening cock. You can still make out the print of it clear as day and it makes your face heat, looking away and feigning interest in the peeling skin around your unkempt cuticles.

"I'm sorry, that was intrusive," you clarify, gaze flicking up from your nail beds to where he fills two glasses of water from a pitcher on the bedside table. You dare to indulge yourself by continuing to look at him rather than away, his hair falling in his face.

For the briefest moment, you think you'd like to be the person to brush it off his forehead forever but he turns to you with a smirk and holds out a glass of water before you can go any further into the delusional fantasies your mind keeps providing to you without asking.

"Why are you asking?" He drinks after asking, finishing his glass in one gulp and setting it back down next to the pitcher. You take the glass extended in your direction, sipping to try and wash down the lump in your throat before it can fully form. "You like me or something?"

Immediately you shoot up, hauling the blanket over your naked form ready to explain away your questioning and he sits down on the edge of the bed with a smile, reaching out and grabbing your covered thigh with one of his hands.

"I was just kidding, don't get jumpy."

Fighting the urge to fidget, you stay sitting up and sip from the water cautiously again, small mouthfuls at a time to keep from feeling overwhelmed. You're so anxious despite having cum so many times you truly lost track and Toji wishes he didn't find it so amusing that after all these years you still manage to be as neurotic as he remembers.

You were a good girl back then, scared of getting caught running around with the delinquent, but you still puffed each time he'd hold the cigarette to your lips. You still tagged along when he would skip class.

He wondered what happened to you when the two of you lost touch. Figured you'd ended up married with a kid or two like him, waiting for the next day and getting through it to the best of your ability.

He was shocked when you messaged him from your social media profile, the photos displayed on your page less than interesting. You standing in front of a shrine on vacation, you smiling next to your family on your grandma's birthday, you looking lonely with a smile that never reached your eyes in photo after photo.

The rest is history, as they say, and you rush to fill the silence.

"Curiosity got the best of me, that's all."

"Five."

You look up, reaching across the bed to slide the water onto the table beside it and he keeps his gaze fixed on you.

"Four occasionals, one regular."

Eyes widening at his words, you point to yourself.

"I'm your regular?"

He hums and nods and you take a moment to process the information for what it is. A surprise, certainly, and you can't quite figure out how you feel about knowing he sees four other women even if it is just occasionally. Logic smacks you in the face as you realize you hardly have the right to feel jealous over him doing his job but you let that feeling turn in your head for a moment, wondering what he'd do if you admitted how you felt to him.

Would he stop seeing his other clients? Would he let you take their occasional spots, making sure he's making the same amount of money regardless if it's all coming from you?

"My occasionals don't live in the city so we only meet up when they're in town."

Why he feels the need to explain himself is as lost on him as it is you, your head tilted to the side in confusion. Can he tell this is what you need to hear to quell your own wandering mind or is he simply indulging you to ensure that his regular stays a regular? You hate to think the worst of him, knowing he's a good man beneath the antics he has always managed to get wrapped up in, but the ever shifting boundaries between the two of you get less and less comfortable with every session.

"How about you?" He asks while you slide your knees up and tuck them into your chest, his hand falling to the side in the process. "You paying anyone else for sex?"

Giggling, you shake your head. It's embarrassing to even be asked, your desperation as apparent as your skin itself, but you feel like if there's anyone you can joke about it with it's the man whose face is still sticky with your release.

"Nope, one is plenty. I'm not rich, you know."

He quirks a brow and crawls onto the bed, making his way to hover above you with a smirk and that same hair hanging over his eyes the way you always seem to see it in your daydreams.

Without thinking, you reach up and brush it off of his forehead, your fingers gliding across the sweat slicked skin of his face. You look at him for a moment, the way he looms above you, and your stomach turns.

This is too much. Your fingers tremble gently as you trace them over the bridge of his nose while dragging them off of his face, hand flopping down at your side while you struggle to shift from beneath him to get out of the bed.

"You alright?"

You nod and he backs away, sitting across the bed rather than lingering over the top of you. Sliding your legs off of the bed, you stand and feel him looking at your back as you bend and scramble to grab your clothes.

"Yeah, just realized it's super late."

Hurriedly pulling your pants up over your legs, you stop when you realize he hasn’t stopped staring at you since the moment you left his bed. His gaze burns and you wither beneath it, burning out like a shooting star as you stand still as a statue.

“Just stay,” he offers as if it isn’t the most self destructive option you could possibly choose. Stay and what? Chew on your nails the entire night until the sun finally rises and you can blissfully leave? Watch morning cast a warm glow over his sleeping body while birds chirp outside?

A persistent echo of the word idiot dances through your head as you briefly consider his suggestion, wondering if it would truly be so terrible to bury your head against his side and sleep soundly for the first time in months.

You can’t do this. The night feels suffocating, like it’s smothering you rather than enveloping you gently, and you pull your pants all the way up and fasten them while throwing your shirt over your head and pulling it on in a surprisingly fluid motion.

“I gotta go. Thank you for everything.”

Bustling out of his apartment, Toji watches your back head toward the door and can’t help but feel as if that was your final goodbye, gone in a flash the same way you returned to him.

Hey stranger, what's up?

The latest in a series of ignored messages pops onto your screen before you can close out the notification, today marking 21 days since the fateful night you cried in the back of an overpriced car the entire way back to your apartment leaving Toji’s behind you.

The messages are all the same - nonchalant and non committal, unspoken business proposals - but you scroll up through them anyway with a broken sniffle. How you’re still managing to cry over this three weeks later is beyond your own understanding but your fingers reach out to brush the screen of your phone regardless, just as they did the smooth skin of his forehead that fateful night.

Life has been normal without him, you reason. You go to work, keep your head down, come home and fall asleep in front of the TV. You’ve been too depressed to even masturbate but you’ve tried, crying through the measly two orgasms you’ve managed to pull out of yourself halfheartedly.

Part of you wishes you’d just die and end this misery once and for all, the other wants to die thinking of how someone would feel looking at your browser history. “Green eyed guy big dick”, “big dick DILF” , “toji big dick”, the terms thay would haunt you enough you worry they’d emblazon them on your headstone if you were to perish.

It’s dramatic, sure, your world has imploded in on itself more than once already but this hurts with the intensity of three broken engagements. Your heart feels like it could give out at any moment and it nearly does when your phone begins to vibrate and ring. Dropping it to the floor below, you sniffle again and feel another round of sobs bubble up in your throat at the name on the screen.

Toji Fushiguro. Clear as day.

You let it ring and ring until you know your voicemail will pick up and you’ll delete it. Fuck, you should really delete his number as a whole but even that feels too permanent.

How did it hurt less when you left your old apartment with an empty ring finger and a few boxes full of your meager belongings than it does to ignore a man you paid for sex?

Truthfully, you know it was never about the sex and you were treading in deep dangerous waters from the start.

You love him.

You loved him back in high school when he was a bad influence, you loved him when you’d open your hidden photos folder to stare at pictures you screen captured from his social media as soon as your fiancé rolled over to fall asleep, you loved him hovering above you with moonlight illuminating every shadow of his face.

This is the worst thing that has ever happened to you and through a flood of hot tears, you close out the open adult website on your phone and pull up a search tab, typing the words that will lead you to listings for apartments for rent as far away from here as you can possibly get.

Your time here is done and you know it, the ding echoing from your phone letting you know you have a voicemail almost sounding exactly like a timer would but you look at the notification anyway.

It's curious he left you a voicemail but you watch as your screen loads from the browser to the one unopened message in your mailbox. Taking a deep breath, you press play and hear his voice drifting through the speakers.

"Hey, uhh...I dunno what I did to piss you off but maybe we should talk about it. I'll be at the usual spot tonight if you wanna meet. Hope to see ya."

It ends as unceremoniously as it started and you cry harder, rewinding to start it over again. Listening to his voice, you trace your fingers along the screen of your phone a final time before deciding to take him up on his offer.

Closure will only help this process, you think, ending it all and closing this chapter for good.

“Look who it is.”

You recognize the voice coming from behind you but refuse to turn in your chair to greet its owner, instead sipping from your cocktail before tossing your napkin down unceremoniously.

This isn’t your first time at this less than reputable establishment but you hope it will be your last, ready to get away from the shit in this city you wished you would’ve left behind a long time ago. Him included.

“Toji,” you toss from over your shoulder and the man himself enters your peripheral vision. Refusing to give him the smug satisfaction of turning to look at him, you simply nod and begin to tear the napkin you tossed down into little pieces. You’ve always loved how easy it is to transform things with your hands, from whole to broken and back again. It reminds you of yourself in a strange way.

“I could make some time for you,” Toji sucks his teeth and you roll your eyes at the sound. “If you want.”

A shake of your head is all you offer as you continue to throw bits of paper in front of you, a small pile of bits, all that remains of what once was whole. The metaphor dies as you think about it and you sit quietly as he settles in beside you.

“What would it cost me this time?”

Toji shrugs, the already clinging fabric of his short sleeved shirt gripping him tighter with the motion. You swallow thickly seeing the muscles move from the corner of your eye. He’s gorgeous and you hate it, reminding yourself that loneliness is what led you in his direction in the first place. Or at least you’re still trying to convince yourself of that.

You wish you could have stuck to your guns when you promised yourself you’d stop seeing him.

“I can make a deal for my favorite even if she has been avoiding me lately.”

A laugh escapes before you can stop it and you turn to look at him, taking in the deep jade color of his eyes and the dark lashes that frame them.

What point did you start looking for the mischievous little sparkle that lives inside of those irises? What point did this become more than transactional?

You always have and it never was.

You sigh, tipping your head back to look at the dim modern-attempt-at-vintage overhead lighting and he sweeps his large hand across the bartop to sweep your bits of napkin into his palm.

“No charge, actually.”

Making a show of considering his offer, you squirm uncomfortably at the boundary that has been firmly broken by it. He has given you discounts, sure, but to offer a completely free no strings attached session is almost more than you can reasonably deny. You have been suffering in his absence, self imposed exile keeping you locked inside of your apartment when you aren’t at work. You aren’t dating, you aren’t fucking, you’re just trying to exist as simply as possible.

Even the most upright girl needs to have a little fun sometimes, though, you think. Especially since this will be the last time before you go and leave him to his life. You have no place in his world and he no place in yours, two paths that intersected briefly but have to diverge eventually the most the two of you will ever be.

Despite your better judgment, you look at him with a bittersweet smile and he finds the look puzzling. There’s still the ever present softness you hold for him deep in that gaze but there’s something else he hasn’t seen before.

His heavy stare makes you interrupt with a question.

“What did I do to deserve a free one?”

He shrugs, dropping your bits of napkin into your drained lowball glass where they soak up what’s left of the water. The cycle into something new begins again.

“Feelin’ generous. You in or not?”

Dragging it out for a moment longer, you wonder if you should tell him this will be the last time. You’ve known him for such a long time there’s an element of obligation but you shrug it off and rise from the barstool, smoothing down the fabric of your pants.

“Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Toji doesn’t bother to hide his smug half smile, tossing down a few bills to cover your drink.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you start and he cuts you off as the two of you walk so close your shoulders brush. “Told you I’m feelin’ generous, quit making me regret it.”

He’s teasing but you flinch a bit at his words despite yourself.

What if he regrets this? What if it hasn’t been as mutually beneficial as you originally thought, you’re just another face with disposable income that wants to see what it feels like to fuck a man with reckless abandon? Isn’t this why you walked away in the first place?

The what ifs will drive you crazy if you keep it up so you let the cool night air clear your mind, gasping as he pushes you against the driver side door of your car.

“Toji,” you warn but his hands glide up your sides and you lift your chin to expose your neck, his lips and teeth easily finding the column of your throat. The vibrations of your voice feel good against his mouth and you yelp as he scrapes at your skin using his front teeth. “Someone could see us.”

He scoffs and lifts his face away from your neck, lips mere inches away from yours.

“Would that be so bad?” You nod emphatically and he rolls his eyes, dark brows knit together as he considers what you’re saying. “Ashamed to be seen with me?” Your shoulders slump and he presses his lips against yours so quickly you wonder if you imagined it and you sigh. “No, I’m not. Just would rather people not know I’m paying some dude I used to go to high school with to fuck me.”

There’s too much truth to your words for him to argue so he simply leans in against, pressing his lips against yours for a moment longer than he previously did. You feel the corner of his lip rise, a little smirk, and you wonder what’s on his mind.

“Don’t seem so ashamed when you’re screamin’ about how you can feel me in your….” he feigns thought for a moment and you feel your face heat, knowing what he’s about to say next. “What is it you always say? Ah, yeah…tummy.” His lips press against yours again and you kiss him back this time, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and wrapping his dark hair around your fingers. The two of you separate before the dry humping starts, catching your breath as you wipe remnants of chapstick and saliva from your lips.

“Get your ass in the car before I change my mind, Fushiguro.”

He smiles at the sound of his name on your pretty lips. There’s no going back now and he knows it as he squeezes your ass once before rounding your car to enter the passenger side. A glance up at the night sky allows you a moment to clear your mind before you enter the vehicle yourself, shutting the door behind you as you fire up the engine.

Something new begins again, the night revealing thing you know to be true.

You love him too much for this to be the last time.

#toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #kendall writes

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talaok · 5 months

Note

I love your writing bestiee ok so you're dating Pedro, but you're not famous, there's an age gap between you, many people support you and think you're super cute, others make mean and nasty comments, one night you get insomnia (Pedro is sleeping) and decides to look at social media, and some disgusting comments about you and Pedro appear, you start to cry because you don't believe it and don't accept people talking about him in such a nasty way, but while you try to make as little noise as possible while you're crying, it's inevitable, Pedro wakes up and comes to you....

Pairing: Pedro pascal x reader

a/n: thank you bestie💖

One of the few times he was able to sleep, it was you who couldn't.

The curtains filtred the shallow lights of the streetlamps and cars from outside, but a flash of them still penetrated the room every few moments, each time distancing you from sleep an inch further, until inevitably, you were wide awake at three in the morning.

Pedro's left arm was wrapped around you, holding you close even in his sleep, his breath was fanning over your neck as his face hid in the crook of it. Your bodies had melted into one, holding onto each other even when not conscious, because that's how you liked it, because that's how much you loved each other.

And you did, god if you did, no matter what people said, thought, or wrote all over the internet, that's all that counted, the love

as Pedro always put it: "As long as I'm with you, nothing else matters"

But today, today as you made the grave mistake of picking up your phone, of unplugging it from the outlet, of opening Instagram... today, in the cold of the night, out of reach from Pedro's sweet words, from his warm embrace... today what people said was hitting harder than usual.

You had slipped out of your boyfriend's grasp to walk to the living room, and god did you regret it as you now sat on the couch, tears streaking down your cheeks, while you tried muffling your own sobs with the palm of your hand.

you tried recalling what Pedro usually said, you tried mustering even a glimpse of the optimism, the tranquility that defined him, that made every negative comment about him, or you, not bother him in the slightest, but all your brain was able to do was re-read all those awful, awful comments out loud without giving you a chance to stop it, making it all worse... so much worse.

Because they weren't only insulting, it wasn't the usual "slut" or "whore" or "gold digger", no, no there were also comments that made fun of him, that called you both "pathetic" or even "disgusting"

What's disgusting about loving someone? In wanting to spend the rest of your life with them?

Why, just because of a few years of difference, did people feel the need to go and make assumptions, why's that?

And as the tears multiplied, as the sobs climbed faster up your throat, you didn't notice the steps coming from the bedroom until-

"Sweetheart?", a voice startled you from behind, freezing you in your spot, as Pedro inevitably rounded the couch to take a better look at you.

The moment your eyes met, the moment he saw the frown on your forehead, the glimmer in your red eyes, your wet cheeks, he was next to you, holding your hand, holding you in any way he could.

"what happened?"

And when you didn't answer, when you could only sniffle as you hid your face in his chest, sobbing and drenching his shirt, only then, did he see your phone, the app it was opened onto... all the dirty words staining your screen.

"baby" he cooed, petting your hair, begging you to look up at him "you can't let them get to you" he murmured "Who cares what they think, we know the truth, that's all that matters"

"I-I know-" your trembling voice made its way to him as you slowly raised your head "I just- it's just-"

that's all you could stutter before you were bawling again, holding onto him for dear life as he stroked your back and gently kissed the crown of your head.

"oh sugar" he cooed, "It's all alright, everything is fine" he whispered "'m here, I'm not going anywhere"

It took a long time for your breathing to even enough for you to find his eyes again.

"sweetheart you're the most amazing woman to ever exist, whatever it is they said, I promise you, they're just jealous"

"n-no it's not what they said about me" you shook your head, wiping away a leftover tear "It's what they said about us"

His eyes closed for a moment as he sighed

"let them say what they want baby, who cares?" he forced a smile to try and cheer you up "Sweetheart, I'm the happiest I've ever been in my entire life" he promised "I love you more than anything on this earth"

"me too" you were quick to reply

"yeah, see? then let them say whatever they want sweetheart, because what matters is that I have you." he murmured "that I'm lucky enough to be with you. and it doesn't matter what they say, because as long as I have you, nothing else matters, the world could collapse and you, baby, would still be the only thing on my mind"

"Pedro..." your lips trembled as your eyes wet again, for a whole different reason this time

"I'm serious" he promised, taking your hands in his "I love you, sweetheart, and as long as I'm with you, nothing else matters"

And as always, he had made it all better

"you're right"

"I know I am" he smiled, stroking your cheek "Now c'mere, let's get back to bed"

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

Note

Ik you said some of Eddie’s “fans” don’t like Steve but do you think any of Eddie’s fan would go out of their way to harass Steve purposely? Either out in public, through his Facebook, or even like physical mail? Like how would Eddie even react to that especially after the doctor’s office video debacle?

I absolutely think that some people would go out of their way to harass Steve.

Eddie uses his socials to showcase his life so you get a very real and authentic view of who he is, and sometimes you get even more than he intended to show because he never remembers to end his live streams. I think it’s inevitable that some fans are going to feel like they know him personally, but it becomes a problem when they think they know what’s best for Eddie.

People loved Steve when Eddie was posting funny videos about his clumsy husband. They loved him more when Eddie got serious and spoke about Steve’s health issues. It was only once Steve stopped being perfect that they started speaking up.

And though, it is few. They speak loudly.

Steve’s not on any social media other than Facebook, but his Facebook page is private. He doesn’t accept friend requests from people he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t use Facebook Messenger because he refuses to download the app.

What Steve does get on Facebook is a lot of people tagging him in posts about how much they hate him or how awful he is. He gets a lot of ads on his timeline with TMZ articles about how Eddie should end his marriage, and he gets people commenting under them knowing that Steve sees them.

And it’s upsetting, but the letters are worse.

The first one is mailed to his school. It wouldn’t be that hard to figure out where Steve taught. Some of his students are in Eddie’s comments and some post videos of themselves wearing their school colors.

Steve shreds the first letter.

He doesn’t know what to do with it and he doesn’t know what to say when Eddie asks him later that day how school was. He swallows hard and says, “It was fine. Nothing interesting happened.”

And Eddie smiles, and lie doesn’t feel so bad.

The second letter is mailed to their house.

It’s sitting on top of a stack of bills with his name printed neatly on top when he gets home from work. Eddie mentions that he got something from a former student, and Steve smiles even as he reads the first of many hateful paragraphs, and he says, “Thank you.”

This letter stays neatly folded in his nightstand with the third letter, and the fourth that details how they want Steve to have a seizure and die. He never says anything. He doesn’t even know how to begin to have that conversation, and he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want Eddie to be upset, so – so why is Steve so upset when he comes back inside after taking their trash to the curb and sees Eddie holding them. Why is he angry? Why is his ears ringing when Eddie asks how long this has been going on, and Steve just snaps, “Why are you going through my things? Who – who gave you the right?”

“I was checking to see if you needed a refill on your migraine medication before I go out of town,” Eddie snapped back, yanking the letters away when Steve reached for them, “What the fuck, Steve? How long has this been going on for?”

“Eddie, stop-“

“Were you planning on telling me that someone is sending you death threats?”

“No.”

Eddie stops long enough for Steve to snatch the letters back and rip them to shreds like he should have done in the first place. Steve’s angry with himself for getting caught and for the sad kicked puppy look on Eddie’s face, and if he wasn’t so – Why is he crying? He’s not even upset so why is he crying? Why can’t – “What did I do wrong? I don’t understand why people don’t like me."

“Stevie,” Eddie says, voice weak the way it is when he’s trying not to cry and this is Steve’s fault too. He didn’t want to upset Eddie and now he’s going to cry. “Baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re perfect, Stevie. You’re perfect for me and if some – some fucking asshole with stamps can’t see that then that’s on them. Not you.”

“You don’t – no one deserves this shit, okay?” Eddie tells him, practically begs him to understand that. “This is serious, Steve. They have our address and they’re making threats. You can’t hide something like this. You have to understand that.”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I’m upset, babe. I’m upset that my so-called fans are treating you like this and that you’ve looked so miserably lately, and you felt like you couldn’t tell me why. You are more important to me than any of this, and if I have to stop doing shows or posting online than-“

“No,” Steve snaps at him, rubbing at his eyes. “I don’t want you to stop, Eddie. I don’t want this to be another thing you can’t do because of me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, Ed. I don’t know, but you stopped touring because of me. You can’t kiss your husband at the top of a rollercoaster like you want to because my head’s too fucked up. You can’t even sleep half the time because you can’t trust me to not leave. You can’t have flashing lights at your shows, or watch fun movies, or –“

“Steve, I don’t give a fuck about those things. Do you think I’m unhappy?”

“The whole world thinks you’re unhappy, Eddie!”

“I don’t care about the world, Steve. I care about you.”

There comes a point where the conversation fizzles out and the anger leaves, but the sadness remains. Steve goes to bed because there’s nothing else to do, and Eddie goes to his studio.

He sets up his phone and he records a short Tiktok saying, “The meet-and-greet in Indianapolis this Friday is canceled and I won’t be attending the Corroded Coffin concert this weekend or any following weekend indefinitely. You can thank the fucker sending death threats to my family.”

#I left out someone confronting Steve in public because that’s terrifying and also I didn’t read the prompt very well #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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feelbokkie · 7 months

Text

Tomorrow

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

**Feelbokkie's 2,000 Follower event post**

genre: fluff, slight angst (bittersweet at best)

pov: 2nd person

description: Months after Minho found out about the online harassment you were getting from so called "fans," you're still asking for tomorrow's.

pairing: Minho x reader

warnings: swearing, mention of food

word count: 1,065

Part 1 & Part 2

"Y/n…" Minho sighs when he opens up his dorm door to let you in.

"Tomorrow?" You ask innocently, showing him the food bag in your hand.

You've been asking for "tomorrows" for months. Trying to prolong your relationship with Minho. And because he loves you, because none of this is fair, he allows it. Neither of you wants to break up, but you both know it's for the best. For your sake. So why does the idea of breaking up feel like your world will end when you do?

"I should learn to stop opening the door." He leans down and kisses you on the lips once you're fully inside and the door is closed.

"You should also learn to not come running to my apartment every time I call then." You tease as you take off your shoes and line them up neatly by the door. Out of place from the shoes left by all of the members in the cuties dorm.

"I can just block your number, that would help a lot." He jokes back.

"Hey, Lee Minho, that's not funny," You turn around and cross your arms at him.

"Nothing about this situation is funny, my love, but we are both coping in our own ways." He says quickly, dragging you off to his room.

The situation. The fact that it somehow got out that you're dating Lee Know from Stray Kids and some of the more bitter and obsessive "fans" have been attacking you online. The two of you dealt with it the best you could. The company refused to get involved other than releasing a statement denying the rumors that you two were dating before you two even had the chance to decide that, that was what you wanted to do. Minho was pissed, rightfully so, but you reassured him. The only reason why anyone thought that the two of you were dating was because of an unconfirmed rumor and a very blurry photo. You're still not entirely sure how your name and handles got leaked from that, but that's a past you problem.

Your mental health has been significantly better. Minho helped you create new, private accounts and delete your old ones. And then, he deleted the apps off your phone and logged off on your computer, reminding you that you could log back in and re-download them when you're in a better headspace. It was hard at first. Even without a place for them to get to you directly, you still knew that deleting your accounts wouldn't stop them from saying vile things about you online. On the third "tomorrow," without him knowing, you logged back in a couple of times and searched your name online to see what was being said about you. Eventually, he changed your passwords and put a parental lock on all social media sites and Google. As childish as it sounds, it was for your benefit.

Months later, you were living in complete blissful ignorance and are better off for it. You still saw and talked to Minho practically every day, telling him that you could break up tomorrow. You both know that you will probably never know peace, that the public backlash will be worse because JYPE went rogue and denied your relationship without consulting you first. That not only will the two of you receive negative attention, but so will the company. So they've been your biggest contenders for you two officially breaking up. But when tomorrow officially comes, one of you finds another reason to ask for another tomorrow.

"That movie you were talking about is going back to theaters for a special, one-night showing," Minho mentions as he closes his bedroom door behind him. You take off your jacket and climb onto his bed, setting the food bag you had in front of you.

"Oh really? When? Tonight?" You ask as you open the bag, taking out the first container and checking it.

"You're going to laugh," He chuckles, sitting down next to you and peeking over your shoulder.

"What, is it tomorrow?" You hand the first container over to him.

"So you see our dilemma. Since we're supposed to break up tomorrow." The topic of breaking up is no longer taboo for you two.

"We can break up after the movie. Right outside the theater. We can even walk in separate directions to make it all dramatic." You suggest, reaching into the bag and pulling out a bottled drink for Minho.

"We could but there is a problem with that. You like going out to eat after watching a movie. I know for a fact you're going to be too sad to eat a proper meal. Don't want to sour the whole experience."

"What about we break up after we eat? Outside the restaurant?"

"We could but it's a late showing and I am a gentleman. I'm, at the very least, going to walk you home first before that. Maybe a walk around the park beforehand to properly digest our food and reminisce about our relationship."

"That's just cruel. I bet you'd give me a goodnight kiss before doing it too." You huff, getting slightly mad.

"I'm not that mean. I'd go in for a goodnight kiss and then break up with you right before our lips touch because I can't kiss you and then hurt you like."

"That's a million times worse. You're not allowed to watch dramas with Hyunjin and Seungmin anymore. You're getting too many ideas." You pull out your own food now.

"You can't boss me around like that anymore after tomorrow."

"Wait, you just said it's a late showing and that you'd walk me home. It's going to be too late for you to walk back here on your own. Can't have you walking around the city depressed and disheveled again. This isn't like when you got eliminated from the survival show."

"I was not disheveled."

"Whatever you say, Minnie," You kiss his cheek before going to get utensils from the bag. "You could just stay the night after you walk me home. I mean, what's more poetic than one last night of passion before walking away forever?"

"And I'm the dramatic one?"

"It can't be helped. We have to do this during tomorrow's tomorrow." You sigh, leaning against the headboard of the bed.

"I'll take one more tomorrow with you anyway."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Permanent Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@berryblog @jaydebow @junebug032 @boiohboii @heistheavatar @lieslab @rainbae-anon @k-cock @hamburgers101 @mrswolfiechan @soulboundauthor @weird-bookworm @thisisnotjacinta @seungmyynie @halesandy @kpopsstuffs @honeydew93 @dandycharmer @stay278 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @babrieeee @brain-empty-only-draken @tenmii @blueforte @jihanlovic @felixglow @nuronhe @soonyoungblr @hello-2-u-from-me @jinnixxn @phtogravi @amyysfics

#feelbokkie writes #stray kids #skz #lee know #minho #lee minho #skz imagine #stray kids imagine #lee know imagine #minho imagine #lee minho imagine #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #lee know imagines #minho imagines #lee minho imagines #x reader

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marigoos · 2 months

Note

I’ve been so ill this past few weeks and been hospitalized because of medical concerns. Found out that I have a tumor and it was already malignant. I have a Stage 2A Cervical Cancer and needs help ASAP. 🥺

GOAL: $1800

Oh this is gonna be so fun. Buckle up, children, time for

✨SCAM EDUCATION✨

Someone you don't know sends you an ask and asks for money

This in itself is an alarm bell. Maybe you're used to it if you're a big account, but if you're a smaller one that alone should make you suspicious af. This user does not follow me nor do I follow them. The only case in which this is acceptable is if you're running a donations blog (you know, the ones who collect people in need and make periodic posts to boost them? Which are way more expert in checking for possible frauds, or so one hopes)

If you scroll down their blog, they're very recent

This is their first ever post, notice the time stamp. If it's still active when you're reading this, you can check yourself.

It's even worse because, while it makes sense for someone very desperate to open accounts on any social media that comes to mind and start begging, you scroll down their blog and their posts are mostly untagged gifs of popular shows and scantily clothed women. Which in itself is not a crime, I often do it too (though I don't go around asking money to strangers) but when you've known for weeks (see pinned post) that you were sick, and your blog is only 5 days old, I would expect at least one post about it other than the pinned one, no? Or even just one single original posts instead of only reblogs and one answered ask to another 6-days-old account

Also I'm not one to judge others' sexual preferences but if you're a mom I would expect at least one of the thirsty posts to be about a man, but oh well. Definitely not enough

Check for others' warnings

There's a whole blog dedicated to listing all the scammers here in Tumblr, but I can't fucking member I should follow them if and when I remember

The fastest way is to search for their PayPal account name. First, though, you have to be CAREFUL about clicking suspicious links - always copy the link and paste it in the url bar to quickly check where it redirects you. In this case I saw It did redirect me to PayPal, and I did load it only because I don't have any PayPal app or credentials saved on my phone, so I don't risk payments or credentials getting sent automatically.

Unfortunately this must be quite recent, because searching for Christine Owaga (this guy^'s PayPal) only got me some Facebook accounts, and I don't remember my password so I'm not gonna check those.

However, since this is an ask on Tumblr, I looked on Tumblr for terms like "scam alert", "scam warning", "donation scam" and so on, and I did find something interesting:

Same exact message several times, more than one account, only one of which is still active.

Then I scrolled a bit more and found this one with a sliiiightly modified text, gonna bet that it's because that was when the victim brought a link to someone with a much bigger collection of receipts lmao just gonna link it here

The PayPal account name is different tbh, which means this dude is at least a bit smarter than an actual bot and knows how to spam semi-efficiently. Kudos!

This is not how a legit ill person should behave. Not even trying to bring some evidence, just leaving a trail of deleted accounts.

Gonna tag everyone I saw reblogging the scammer's pinned post so that they can delete it and maybe warn their followers (assuming they're not bots themselves)

@thecherry95 @back-in-19something @underthewingsofthblackeagle @fantasticcollectorkitten @takineko @razzgamer5 @jacks-ace @windywillows-world @aurelia-which-means-sunrise @comradesmooches @loch-tess-monster @urazayt @boodubious07 @satinfables @rateater69 @irontyphoonobject @blackfairyemoji @dannyfoggings @helloparzival13 @rusalkascave

#scam #scam alert #scam warning #long post #donation scam #donation scams #christine owaga #(only tagging so that it's searchable)#I'm not tagging who reblogged to shame them. so if you're among them and want me to delete your name just tell me #I just wanna be sure you know

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batshaped · 10 months

Text

twitter stop fucking up for one second challenge (impossible)

well,

here’s the thing. it feels like social media is changing lately. every social media site seems to be fucking up or getting worse in its own special little way. i recently read and thought a lot about this article which coins the term “enshittification” and describes the process by which every social media platform eventually becomes so greedy as to become unusable. it makes me wonder if the social internet is due for a big shift in the near future.

for a long time, twitter was the best place for me. for all its issues, it had the audience that i could reach the easiest, that was the most invested in my art. i got (still get) a lot of awesome replies and really great analysis of my work on twitter, which i didn’t receive on any other platform. i was able to encourage those readers by retweeting their comments and theories to show that i liked hearing their thoughts. i could use the Moments feature to organize my art and make my comic easily readable in order. and anyone could look at my twitter, account or no.

ever since the site was bought out, twitter is getting worse. i can’t use the app on mobile anymore because every reply section is drowned out by blue checks and choked with ads. the Moments feature was disabled and people couldn’t easily read my comics in order anymore. and this is without even touching on the bigger/more serious issues the buyout has brought to the app. these are just the ways it has made my personal experience of being an artist on there worse. and now, apparently, you can’t even look at my work unless you have an account.

it’s been pretty common in the past year for the new management to implement a bad feature and then undo it after backlash, and maybe this too will be reversed. but even if it is unimplemented, the platform will continue to get worse. all platforms are getting worse right now. all of them are becoming untenable to use without 7 bespoke browser extensions to block ads, hide specific unwanted content, force chronological order, and so on. on mobile i don’t even bother. apps are unusable.

on top of that, i have the personal issue of not being the type of creator who is particularly good at staying on top of more than one or two platforms daily. twitter has been my main for years now, so i’m pretty good about updating it very regularly. instagram is trailing behind, i usually remember to post there daily (especially as i’m remaking mine right now and posting my entire backlog) but sometimes i forget. and that’s kind of my limit. every other site falls by the wayside because i just don’t want to spend my whole day or life updating platforms. i know there are tools that can do it automatically for you but i don’t want to do it that way and then i’d have to figure out a new tool and get yet another account on yet another app and install yet another extension to use it.

i just want to draw. i don’t know how we arrived at this place where we need to be 700 other things when we are just artists. i draw and write, isn’t that enough? if i wanted a presence on tiktok i’d also have to be a video editor who pays close attention to trends and makes sure to transform my artwork into something people on that app are interested in. even if i just wanted to have a strong presence on say, twitter/instagram/tumblr/tapas/webtoon i’d have to take on another (unpaid) job as my own social media manager, meticulously managing my uploads across 5+ apps and making sure everything is up to date and tailored to what “works” on each particular platform. i already have a day job—i’m a storyboard artist. the art i post online is supposed to be made and given freely for my own enrichment first and foremost, and for the joy of sharing with others as a close second.

i wonder if we’re due for a mass rejection of this increasingly draining cable-wars-style model of spreading ourselves thin across multiple platforms just to reach the exclusive audience each one provides. i’m starting to feel done with that concept, but i still want to share my art. i want to hear my readers’ thoughts. i want to create things that connect with others. i want to do it without these ever-mounting obstacles.

what i’m doing about it is creating my own website at my own domain that belongs to me. i doubt i’ll be quitting social media when it’s done. social media is still where the audience i cherish lives. but you can bet that when that website is ready to be shared, i’ll be talking about it on every social media account i own. i’ll be telling everyone there’s a place to look at my art where you don’t need an account, you don’t have to struggle through a morass of ads, and you don’t have to line the pockets of a billionaire who bought a social media app on a whim. it’ll just be you and my art. alone together.

by the way, to @whatthehelljake i apologize for writing a fucking SAT essay on a screenshot of your reply. any exasperated tone here is not directed at you at all. it’s directed at this sea of obstacles that disrupt the simple concept of “i made art and i want to share it with you.” your reply is how i found out today that twitter made this change. i cherish the fact that you want to connect with my art so much that you alerted me to this. i wish that wasn’t necessary. i want to make my work on my own terms—and want you to be able to experience it on YOUR own terms.

all that to say, i think the website is going to be the main answer to this issue. i don’t see myself having the energy to update tumblr that much more often than i already do, though maybe i’ll try to pick up the pace a little now. we’ll see. holy shit if you read all this go drink a glass of water or something get up and stretch. ok thank you bye <3

#not art #fucking essay length thing under the cut #i don't know what else to say just read it if you want to know LOL

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hellfire-state-of-mind · 1 month

Text

27 seconds

pairing: Marcus Pike x reader

rating: just angst, hope you brought tissues

word count: 749

summary: Marcus never expected his world to fall apart with one phone call.

warnings: mention of drinking, kissing, nothing above PG though. reader has no physical descriptions other than wears a robe and some of Marcus's clothes. please lmk if i missed anything!!

a/n: my first submission for @beskarandblasters's Taylor Swift drabble challenge! i'm 100% a swiftie so i grabbed this with both hands and went running. this is based on the song Last Kiss sooooooo yeah it hurts 😅 oops. i do plan to write a second one so keep your eyes peeled for that if that's something your interested in?? this is only my second even piece for one of Pedro's characters and i have a particular soft spot for our Agent Pike so i hope y'all like it 🫣

Standing at the terminal, waiting for you to appear from the sliding glass doors, he checks his watch, then your flight information. It landed almost an hour ago, so where are you?

Just as the thought crosses his mind, his phone buzzes in his pocket, your name and picture lighting up his screen. He quickly answers.

“Hey, baby. I’m waiting outside your terminal, is everyth-”

“I never got on.”

---

He knew asking you to move to D.C. with him on such short notice was a stretch. You had your own life in L.A., how could he seriously expect you to just drop everything?

But you did. In a heartbeat.

Packing up your shared apartment was a blur. It mirrored the day you moved in: sitting on the bare kitchen floor surrounded by cardboard boxes, you wearing his t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, the waistband rolled so they sit higher on your thighs. You kept them when he flew out early to get your new place ready. Dropping him off at the airport, you held each other impossibly tight before sharing one last kiss and whispered “I love yous” against each other’s lips.

---

“Wait- baby, is everything okay? Did something happen?” Marcus tries to swallow his panic, fearing something had gone wrong with the airline or God forbid you’d been hurt.

“No. I just- I can’t. I’m so sorry, Marcus.”

“What d- what do you mean ‘can’t’? B-”

“It’s complicated. Just…I’m sorry.” His phone beeps as the call disconnects.

He stares blankly at the screen, 1:58 shining through the dark, taunting him.

What else can he do but just go home?

Marcus grabs a beer from the bare fridge and sinks to the floor, kicking off his shoes in the process. He stares out into the room. The space feels foreign now, hard and echoey. It’s mostly empty since you’d agreed to wait and do the bulk of the furniture shopping together. You’d loved the open floorplan, teasing him about having plenty of room for your impromptu dances. What should have been filled with warmth and laughter now just feels hollow.

He picks up his phone again, desperate to call you back and plead for answers. But you’d already given him one. You weren’t ready. When he asked you to go with him, he’d promised to honor whatever you felt. He just never planned on you changing your mind like this.

---

He throws himself into his work again. Some days, he’s okay. Others, he’ll come home enthusiastic after a big breakthrough and excited to tell you all about it until you cut him off with a kiss. He calls out to you, but your name dies on his lips.

Those nights, he’ll lie awake and scroll through your social media, careful not to accidentally like any of your photos. Dinners and drinks with friends. Fourth of July fireworks at the Santa Monica pier. But one picture stings worse than the others: a candid of you walking in the rain, your hands in your coat pockets, and a reflection in the window revealing a man behind the camera.

Marcus knows he shouldn’t have hoped that you just needed more time. That you’d wait for him until you were ready and then you’d come. He shakes the thought away before closing the app and turning off his phone, but he can’t fall asleep. His bed is too big, too cold. His own breathing in his ears is too loud, his heartbeat too heavy. He forces his eyes closed anyway, but they pop right back open. He snatches his phone off the bedside table and resumes his previous position, steeling himself for another restless night.

---

You’ve just stepped out of the shower when you hear your phone chime. Securing your robe, you perch on the edge of your bed and open the text.

I can’t forget you

Marcus’s name and contact picture at the top of the thread blurs as you blink back unannounced tears. You haven’t cried over this man in months, why now? Composing yourself, you look back down at the screen. You read those 4 little words over and over again, words stuck on the tip of your own tongue for so long but you forced yourself to never say. You finally notice the Read tag under the message, betraying your silence. He knows you’ve seen it.

Taking a deep breath, you type your response.

#my writing #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #ppcu #pedrostories #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfiction

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eishxn · 9 months

Text

—teaser!

synopsis: a classical pianist who lost his passion for music, only seeing it as a bore and a pain—got the interest of a certain band member of a rising band. Kunikuzushi is already tired of his group's bullshit but now venti is adding another member—and it's his greatest academic rival too.

genre: academic rivals, social media au, band au, enemies to lovers, gay asf, slow burn, college au, modern au.

warnings: mommy and daddy issues, mentions of kys and kms jokes, ooc scaramouche, heavy swearing because come on this is scara we're talking about, depression<3, anxiety, will probably have nsfw, baby's first time making smau, use of alcohol courtesy of venti, suggestive topics, miscommunication, slight homophobia, male x male, classical musician meets rock band member kind of thing lmfao, reader is burnt out asf.

notes: there's a written part under the cut!

MASTERLIST | MASTERPOST | »ep 1

Y/n sighs heavily, heart beating erratically in his chest. He just finished answering a very heavy and painful phonecall from his parents—how they expressed their disappointment—but he didn't care, all he could hear during the call was the loud ringing in his ears as he tuned out their words.

He lies on his bed back at his apartment, an arm over his eyes as tears streams down his cheeks, adams apple bobbing up and down as he choke on his own sobs.

He's so tired, very tired.

Facades finally crumbling after years of pretending, it all came crashing down. He's even surprised why he didn't have a mental breakdown during the interview.

Nothing matters anymore.

What's the point of doing something so tiring?

Who even am I at this point?

Just a broken doll who longed for his parents validation to the point of destroying himself to fit their standards.

His eyes swollen, red, and puffy after he cried, the sounds of multiple notifications can be heard from his phone, he read the messages but not bothering to reply, too tired and mentally drained to do so. He then turns off his phone but before he did he caught a glimpse of his notes app, he remembered that one comment he read about making music.

He did think about it.

He did have some lyrics of his own but no melody to it, might as well call it a poem for now.

He wrote these songs a long time ago and he just forgot about it.

He sighs before turning off his phone.

Sometime later, he heard a ding on his phone and followed by the doorbell ringing on his apartment door.

He opens to see a notification from Childe and he smiles softly before eventually and also reluctantly getting out of the comfort of his bed and walked downstairs, opening it to see Childe who immediately embraced him, still holding paper bags filled with food.

"Comrade! We were worried sick and holy fuck are you crying? Omg it's worse than we thought." Childe says with worry as he pats Y/n's head, the shorter male chuckling a bit.

"Yeah, sorry for worrying you guys..." He chuckles as he avoided the ginger's gaze and Childe sighs before entering the apartment and closing the door.

"It's alright comrade, now tell me what exactly happened."

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

—KYS [AFFECTIONATELY]

scaramouche x male! reader smau

Author's Notes:

•lowkey scared I might accidentally use a problematic person's face in this smau because I have no knowledge about kpop or Korean industry lmfao

Taglist:

@ozzierenato @wanderchive @endingstar222 @lorizarei @otomegame-oneshots @motherscrustytoenailclippings @carrotcrate @lovessnarii @sukunasrealgf @kunikya @klanxii @st4rcheese @miaouusoup @d0min1qu3 @cookieofwishes @moonplethxra @magica-ren @k1an4a

#genshin smau #genshin wanderer #genshin impact #𝗞𝗬𝗦 [𝗔𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗬] — 𝗘𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗫𝗡 #scaramouche x you #scaramouche fluff #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smau #scaramouche angst #scaramouche x male reader #scaramouche

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mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months

Text

Saving the news from Big Tech with end-to-end social media

Big Tech steals from the news, but it doesn’t steal *content* — it steals *money*. In “Saving the News From Big Tech,” a series for EFF, I’ve documented how tech monopolies in ad-tech and app stores result in vast cash transfers from the news to tech, starving newsrooms and gutting reporting:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/saving-news-big-tech

Now we’ve published the final part, describing how social media platforms hold audiences hostage, charging media companies to reach the subscribers who asked to see what they have to say. And, as with the previous installments, we set out a proposal for forcing tech companies to end this practice, putting more money in the pockets of news producers:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-need-end-end-web

The issue here is final stage of the enshittification cycle: first, platforms offer good deals and even subsidies to lure in end users. Then, once the users are locked in, platforms offer similarly good deals to business users (in this case, publishers, but see also Uber drivers, Amazon sellers, YouTube performers, etc) to lure them in. Once *they’re* locked in, the platform flips the script: it withdraws subsidies from both end users and business customers (e.g. news readers and news publishers) and forces both groups to pay to continue to transact with each other.

In the case of the news and Big Tech, that process goes like this. First a platform like Facebook offers users a surveillance-free alternative to MySpace, where the deal is simple: tell us who matters to you on this site, and we’ll show you what they post:

https://lawcat.berkeley.edu/record/1128876?ln=en

Users pile in and lock themselves in, through the “collective action problem” — the difficulty of convincing all your friends to leave, and to agree on where to go:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

Then Facebook turns on the surveillance they promised they’d never engage in, and also begins to promise media companies that it will nonsensually cram their posts down readers’ eyeballs, luring in both advertisers and publishers. Users don’t like their diluted feeds, or the surveillance, or the ads, but they like each other, and the collective action problem keeps them from leaving.

As publishers and advertisers grow increasingly dependent on Facebook, Facebook makes the deal worse for both. Ad prices go up, as does ad-fraud, meaning advertisers pay ever more for ads that are ever less likely to be shown to a user.

Publishers’ “reach” is curtailed unless they put ever-larger excerpts onto Facebook, until they eventually must publish whole articles verbatim on the platform, making it a substitute for their web presence, rather than a funnel to drive traffic to their own sites. Facebook caps this off by downranking any post that includes a link to the public web, forcing publishers into the conspiracy to make “Facebook” synonymous with “the internet.”

Then, in end-stage enshittification, publishers’ reach is curtailed altogether. They are told — either explicitly or implicitly — that they have to pay to “boost” their material to reach the subscribers who asked to see it.

With social media ransom, tech finds a way to steal money from publishers no matter how they make that money. Tech monopolists command 51% of ever ad dollar. Tech monopolists rake off 30% of every in-app subscription dollar. And social media companies demand danegeld (“verification,” “boosting,” etc) from publishers who want to reach the audiences that asked to see their materials.

This isn’t just bad for publishers, it’s also bad for audiences. You joined the platform to see the feeds you subscribed to, but the platform gradually replaces more and more of your feed with ads and content from randos who pay to “boost” into your field of vision, at the expense of the friends, communities and publishers you asked to see:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

What can we do about this? The answer lies in the founding ethic of the internet itself: the end-to-end principle.

Before the internet, telecommunications were controlled by centralized phone companies. If you wanted to reach someone else, you needed to connect to a centralized switching center, which decided whether to connect you, and if so, what to charge you.

The internet, by contrast, operates on the “end-to-end principle”: the job of the network is to transmit data from willing senders to willing receivers, as efficiently and reliably as possible. One expression of end-to-end is Network Neutrality, the idea that carriers shouldn’t be allowed to slow down the data you request unless the service you’re trying to use pays for “premium carriage.”

Social media has run the internet transitions in reverse. They started off as end-to-end, neutral platforms. You created an account, told them which data you wanted, and they put it in a feed for you. Then, as they enshittified, they turned into miniature Ma Bells. You don’t get the data you requested, you get the data that someone is willing to pay to show you.

This means that publishers — including news publisher — have to pay ever-larger shares of their revenues to reach the people who asked to hear from them, and those people see an ever smaller proportion of the things they asked to see in their feeds.

The solution to this is to enshrine “end-to-end” delivery for social media: to make social media platforms’ first duty to deliver data from willing senders to willing recipients, as efficiently and reliably as possible:

https://locusmag.com/2023/03/commentary-cory-doctorow-end-to-end/

As a policy, end-to-end has a lot going for it. First, it is easy to administer. If you want to find out if a company is reliably delivering posts from willing senders to willing receivers, you can easily verify it by creating accounts and performing experiments. Compare this to more complicated policies, like “platforms must not permit harassment on their services.” To administer that policy, you need to agree on a definition of harassment, agree on whether a specific user’s conduct rises to the level of harassment, then investigate whether the platform took reasonable steps to prevent it.

These fact-intensive questions are the enemy of effective enforcement. Bad actors can (and do) exploit definitional ambiguity to engage in conduct that *almost* rises to the level of harassment, and which is *experienced* as harassment, but which doesn’t qualify as harassment:

https://doctorow.medium.com/como-is-infosec-307f87004563

Then there’s the problem of figuring out whether platforms’ failures to block harassment are reasonable or negligent, a question that can literally take *years* to resolve, and then only by deposing the engineers who build and maintain the systems involved.

By contrast, detecting end-to-end violations is simple and clean, and has an easy remedy in the event that violations are detected: if a company doesn’t deliver the messages it is supposed to deliver, a regulator or court can order it to do so.

Another important advantage of end-to-end: it is a *cheap* policy to comply with. Complicated platform regulations can have the perverse effect of being so expensive to comply with that only the largest — and worst, and most harmful — platforms can afford to follow the rule. That means that smaller platforms — including nonprofits, co-ops, and small businesses — are snuffed out by compliance costs, trapping users and business customers in giant, abusive walled gardens, forever:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/platforms-decay-lets-put-users-first

Imposing an end-to-end requirement on platforms would kill the practice of holding news publishers’ audiences for ransom. What’s more, it’s a policy that would benefit both large and small publishers — unlike, say, a profit-sharing arrangement between Big Tech and the news, which delivers disproportionate benefits to the largest publishers, whose owners are typically either billionaire dilettantes or private equity looters. And, unlike profit-sharing arrangements, end-to-end continues to provide value for publishers even if the tech companies crash and burn, or get broken up by regulators. We want our news to be adversaries and watchdogs for Big Tech, not its partners, with a shared stake in Big Tech’s growth and profits.

Now that the EFF “Saving the News” series is done, we’re rounding up the whole thing into a PDF “white paper,” suitable for emailing to your friends, elected representatives, and fellow news junkies. That’ll be up in a day or two, and I’ll post here when it is. In the meantime, here are the five parts:

Saving the News From Big Tech https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/saving-news-big-tech

To Save the News, We Must Shatter Ad-Tech https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-shatter-ad-tech

To Save the News, We Must Ban Surveillance Advertising https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-ban-surveillance-advertising

To Save the News, We Must Open Up App Store https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-must-open-app-stores

To Save the News, We Need an End-to-End Web https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-need-end-end-web

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/13/certified-organic-reach/#e2e

[Image ID: EFF's banner for the save news series; the word 'NEWS' appears in pixelated, gothic script in the style of a newspaper masthead. Beneath it in four entwined circles are logos for breaking up ad-tech, ending surveillance ads, opening app stores, and end-to-end delivery. All the icons except for 'end-to-end delivery' are greyed out.]

Image: EFF https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-need-end-end-web

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #boosting #end to end #social media #saving the news from big tech #news #copyfight #eff #e2e #net neutrality #administratability #compliance costs #monopoly #trustbusting #media #antitrust

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j0kers-light · 5 months

Note

Hi Chaos! MASSIVE FAN of your work!

A little headcannon/short story idea (If you find it suitable and to your liking, of course <3)

We keep on hearing of how y/n interacts on social media- but what about the Joker? Does he have a secret account for fun, does he stay away from it or is there a third alternative?

Bonus! (In honor of Spotify wrapped coming out): What type of music genre do you think the Joker enjoys listening to?

Hey hi anon!!! 🖤✨

wow, haven't had one of these in a hot minute. I miss answering anon... 🥺🥺ANYHOO!!!

THANK YOU FOR BEING A MASSIVE FAN! I LOVES YOU MUCH! *opens up my docs so I can work hard to make content for mi sweet loving anon*

Let's get into it! Straight to the point because I can go into heavy detail AND I WILL. I WILL GO INTO HEAVY DETAIL! 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

First and foremost, Joker isn't addicted to modern technology like we are as a culture, this man is soooo old fashion it makes your eyes roll.

He doesn't see the appeal of TikTok or apps like Snapchat even if the filters make him all sparkly and look cool. He takes silly selfies with you if you beg him to and he lets you save some on your phone however; if he sees them anywhere else-- say goodbye to fun selfies forever!

He can't have any evidence of his real face floating around. Phones can be hacked! So you suggest Polaroids and Joker breathes a sigh of relief.

Get it? Polaroid? Just like in the infamous photo Joker snapped in the chapter Push and Pull! 🤭

If Joker uses any social media platforms, it’s in an anonymous fashion.

Joker is on Twitch because he's secretly a gamer but he doesn't use a cam. He loves stalking your personal blog and he's always going down a rabbit hole on YouTube.

You won't find him anywhere that requires a legal profile. Anything that can be traced back to him and most importantly you is a no go. He won't risk you being used as blackmail or worse.

He'll check your Patreon from time to time if you're a digital artist or something of the sort but other than that, his phone is used primary for communication with you.

Joker would rather leave behind sticky notes or his signature playing cards than send a text. He scatters the apartment with little love notes; it’s so corny but sweet.

Now on the other hand if you need assistance whether it be for a skit, making a reel, etc., best believe Joker will hold your camera for you, he'll help you edit videos, he’ll even direct the content so its the best on the internet!

He'll be so supportive if you're a content creator. Scratch that. Joker is supportive in everything you do!

Granted he doesn't understands a lick of social media or its lingo, he will go above and beyond to make sure your content is phenomenal.

Need a nice shot of the Gotham Bridge or a background of somewhere cool? Its mysteriously empty for your use...

Need good lighting for a quick reel? Joker is setting off explosions in the background. Fire is really good natural lighting... far better than a ring light. 👀

Whatever you need, say the word and its yours. Joker will get anything for his Light.

THAT BEING SAID! BONUS ASK ITS A TWO FOR ONE DEAL!

I think I answered a similar ask like this but I'll do it again because I love to answer questions!!

(I have a confession to make. I do not have a Spotify... so I can't do the viral wrapped thingy but I'm aware of it!)

I fully support Joker being older than you (teehee we stan mature older men around these parts!!)

That being said.. Joker grew up with good music like back when music meant something—not just mindless noise to add onto a video for likes.

He has an ear for jazz, crooner, classic R&B, and the occasional rock, heavy metal stuff if it has relatable lyrics (it channels his inner psycho don't judge him)

He cannot stand pop music or anything that's featured on the top 100's or played on repeat in a department store. He will stab someone over it. No questions asked.

If his Bunny is singing/dancing along to it he might make an exception because your voice is so soothing to him, it puts a different spin to the song. There's still a fifty fifty change he's tuning it out.

But he strongly believes all boy bands should be executed, no exceptions. That's where he draws the line.

Totally forgot I made a oneshot about Joker and music too!

Slippery When Wet lol...

Hope that answered your ask beloved! 🖤✨

#thanks anon!#thanks for the ask!#ledger joker x reader #reader insert #black!fem!reader #ledger joker #heath joker #joker x reader #joker x y/n #dark knight joker #Joker's taste in music #it varies but he's coming around #his lighthouse

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lovelybunn · 1 year

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ𔓕 ▒⃡ ‧ 𓐄 drunken heartache .

part three.ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤnext...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤprevious...

pairing: stan marsh & best friend!reader

synopsis: wendy left poor STAN MARSH for the official and final time, and he was devastated about it. depression hit him like a bus, until by some miracle, you showed up, and practically saved his life. a friend like you was just what stan had needed for quite a while, but what if he wanted more?

word count: 1.9k

warning(s): depression, of prns she/her, fem!reader, swearing, slight mentions of misogyny, jealousy, mutual pining, angst, blood, vomiting, alcoholism

YOU HAD sent Stan one message since that morning’s incident. At first, he didn’t want to check it at all, just seeing your contact name on his phone made his heart ache. Although, after about five minutes, he finally clicked on the notification.

𝗁𝖾𝗒𝗒𝗒𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇! 𝗎 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝖾𝗇𝖽? 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗎 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝗆𝖺𝗇!

1:11 𝖯𝖬

Stan stared blankly at his phone for quite a while. Why would you still wanna hang out with him after he, quoting your own words, “ghosted you since you moved”? It didn’t help that you were the girl that Cartman created a fake chat with to mess with Wendy’s head. It was Stan’s mistake for thinking it was good idea to not have a password for his phone and leaving it out in the open for anyone to take. He typed, deleted, and retyped many messages to reply to yours, some more passive aggressive than others while some just sounded straight pitiful. Stan settled with a casual response.

𝗇𝖺𝗁. 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗍 4?

2:48 𝖯𝖬

You replied instantly.

𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍! 😊 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄, 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗄𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖺 ❤

2:48 𝖯𝖬

Stan tilted his head to the side and raised his brow. He wondered why you added a heart at the end of your text. Were you lowkey trying to flirt with him? He waved the thought away and turned his phone face down on his desk. He stretched in his chair, a loud and somewhat dramatic yawn filled the silence in his room.

His back slouched as he opened a tab to check his grades. There were already over twenty untouched tabs open, but Stan didn't bother to close them. Once he logged in, he clicked on the icon called "Gradebook". The thing that was revealed to him was quite pathetic. He was failing most of his classes, with Baseball and Spanish being the only exceptions. What's worse is that they weren't "barely passing" grades, they were full blown bombing. He literally had a twenty-eight in Algebra.

Stan bit hard into the right side of his cheek while quickly closing out the tab. "Shit…" He muttered; his fingers ran anxiously through the dark roots of his hair. Stan had been skipping a few classes over the school year, some just involving him being knocked out in the corner of the classroom while others were him spending time drinking alone. Even before Wendy permanently broke up with him, joy and motivation lacked heavily in Stan's life.

Stan couldn't remember how many times he had told himself, "Ah, I'll do it later." He had over thirty missing assignments across all of his courses. It was just so hard to even think about sitting at his desk to try and catch up on his work. Pulling out the paper is one thing, but actually being able to process what's on it is a completely different thing. He was just glad to have a friend as smart as Kyle Broflovski.

Kyle and Stan would FaceTime each other often over school related things, Kyle always impatiently saying, "What is it this time, Marsh?" Stan knew at some point Kyle would stop saving his ass, but again, he was happy to know that one person hadn't given up on him yet. The consequences of his actions, or lack thereof, would come crawling to bite him back in the ass eventually.

Stan grabbed his phone off his desk and slid onto his mattress with little to no interest. He didn't have any social media, only a few pointless mobile games and an app to help track how long you've been sober, which he hasn't used since summer of last year. Out of curiosity, he clicked on the icon. When the app opened, the words "Congratulations! You are 3 months sober!" welcomed him with huge, bold letters. Underneath that text in tinier font read, "Last logged on June 16th." That alone made Stan want to hurl. He gripped on his stomach, swallowing hard to force down the vomit threatening to escape his throat.

He remembered exactly why he downloaded that app. He and Wendy had gotten into an argument over his drinking, of course. Just to make her happy he downloaded the app, promising her that would actually try and use it.

He desperately wanted to change, for Wendy. But he couldn't. After three months, the craving had taken control of his actions. In the middle of night, while Wendy was sound asleep beside him in his own bed, Stan had ran down the stairs, dragging out every bit of alcohol that his parents stored in the fridge. He chugged all of it down until he felt sick. He had painfully thrown up all night.

Stan had come to realize that so many people have tried to fix him, but not ever had he tried to fix himself. "Maybe I'm just beyond fixing." Stan exclaimed, laughing weakly. He rested his phone on his chest and closed his eyes. Taking in a deep breath, he thought to himself, "Sometimes I wonder why anyone puts up with me." Soon, a gentle knock tapped against his door. "Hey, sweetie… Can you please open the door, your father and I would like to talk to you." The bridge of Stan's nose wrinkled as he stared at nothing in particular. With furrowed brows, he slurred, "Yeah, in a sec Mom."

He lazily dragged himself off his bed and trudged toward his room's door. With a meek turn of it's handle, the door creaked open, revealing two very disconcerted looking parents. Sharon and Randy just stared at Stan with eyes filled with worry. Stan raised a brow, "What is it? You said you wanted to talk to me about something." Sharon opened her mouth to speak, but she paused, not being able to find the right words.

Randy took the lead and made a hesitant step into Stan's room, "It's about your grades—" Stan frowned deeply. He knew this was coming. Then Randy quickly shook his head, re-wording himself. "No, this is about you." Sharon had finally joined in with her husband, the two hand-in-hand. They made some sort of weary eye contact before Randy had a shaky sigh. "Something's going on with you, son. We're worried about you, Stanley."

He wanted to tell them, he really did. But lying was just so much easier. He put on his best fake smile and chuckled, "What? Everything's okay with me, Mom and Dad." Sharon crossed her arms in disbelief. "Are you sure? That 'Wendy' girl seemed to make you happier than I've seen you in a while." Stan tried to form another narrative, but his father was not buying it. "Oh come on, Stan. Your grades have been slipping even before the two of you broke up. There has to be more going on under the surface."

Sharon gently placed a hand on Stan's shoulder. "Do you want to go back to rehab, my love?" Stan cringed very hard at the thought. He quickly turned away from his parents. "I already told you, nothing's wrong with me. You can go now." Stan's voice raised. The room then went deadly silent. In the corner of his eye, Stan could see his father grip the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Fine. But please try and actually do your work." Randy said, a sting in his tone. Stan's parents quietly left his room, his mother closing the door behind her. Stan slowly fell on his back, yet again staring at his ceiling.

ㅤ

"He's so fucking stubburn!"

"Randy, you know for a fact that he's in a hard place right now. Wendy meant the world to him!"

"That dumbass girl was never the problem, he's been like this since he was eight! He's been the problem since day one!"

"You're not gonna seriously look at me in my face and tell me that you didn't introduce him to that horrible monster of a drug! All it's ever done is ruin this fucking family, and it hasn’t gotten any better, it's gotten worse!"

ㅤ

His parents' loud screams were subdued to the sound of the familiar tune of FaceTime. Stan checked his phone to see who was trying to call him. The contact name said "#1 bestest homie🍀", who was Kyle. He answered within the third beep. "Hey." Stan muttered dryly. He could subtly hear the shuffling of some kind of equipment, but Kyle was behind a plain old white wall. "What's up, Stan? You look kinda… miserable. Is right now a bad time?" Stan shook his head and shifted his weight onto his stomach, "Nah, you're fine, dude. I'm just tired. What's all that noise in the background?"

Kyle's eyes suddenly widened and his mouth flew agape in shock. "Do you seriously not remember, Stan?" Stan looked around his bedroom awkwardly. "Wha– What are you talking about? What am I supposed to remember?" Kyle aggressively face-palmed, shaking his head. Stan was dumbfounded. Kyle scowled at him. "We have a show Sunday night, jackass! How'd you forget? We've been planning for this for months now!" Stan slowly placed his hand on his forehead. 'You have got to be shitting me right now…'

Kyle raised a sharp eyebrow at Stan, somehow making Stan flinch a bit. "I was calling you to see if you were ready to rehearse, but you seem to have your mind elsewhere." Impulsively, Stan spat back, "So you're telling me that I didn't see what happened that day?" Kyle's pupils dilated with frustration. "Stan, nobody's saying you did or didn't see anything. Plus, I was trying to be there for you then. The only person you should truly be throwing shade at is that dickhead, Cartman." He hissed.

Stan sat up quickly and sighed. "God, I know man. I'm sorry, it just slipped out. The whole (Name) and Wendy thing has been keeping my head spinnin'." Kyle frowned sympathetically, his thick ginger brows furrowed on his distressed face. "It's okay, you don't have to come if you're not ready, Stan." Stan looked away from the camera for a second and bit his lip. "What is it, dude?" Kyle asked, the camera angle shifted toward what looked like a door.

"Well…" Stan was a little embarrassed to say it, but he swallowed his pride. "Speaking of (Name), she kinda… y'know–" He cleared his throat, his friend patiently waiting for him to finish his sentence. "She… she asked to hang out. Alone." Kyle chuckled, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. "I think that's called a date, Stan." Stan's cheeks quickly flushed as he practically yelled defensively, "She didn't– Well, she did technically call it that, but that's not the point!"

Kyle rolled his eyes playfully. "What about you invite (Name) to our concert on Sunday? I bet she'd love to come!" He winked. Stan contemplated the decision. "Maybe…" He hummed, brain gears turning. "Yeah, sure! I'll get her front row tickets and everything! You're a genius, Kyle!" Kyle smiled. "That means you're going to practice, right?" Stan gave one quick nod of his head. "Great, see you then, Stan. Good luck."

#stan marsh #stan marsh x reader #south park #south park fanfiction #south park x reader #south park x you #high school au #angst #randy marsh #sharon marsh #kyle broflovski #eric cartman

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bettsfic · 9 months

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Hi betts! Hope you're doing good! Do you have any advice on how to distance yourself from social media? I saw that you've done so with success and the older I get the more I feel a bit trapped by the internet.

social media certainly has benefits: keeping people connected, giving a voice to those who otherwise wouldn't have a platform, and it allows you to meet new people in the context of interest rather than location.

at least, these are the things social media set out to be, and over time those benefits, to me anyway, haven't been able to outweigh the drawbacks: compulsively checking apps, doomscrolling, content appearing by algorithm to attempt to cater to my interests, and just generally a lot of wasted time.

i don't necessarily believe that if you stop using social media, suddenly you'll be able to devote every minute of your day to a higher pursuit. the brain doesn't work like that. it always needs downtime. before phones, we had television. before television, we had radio. lacking glowing screens and people telling us things from far away, i think we'd all spend a lot of time looking at the things humans are built to look at: fire, water, mountains, sky. we'll listen to stories or read them or watch them.

during your mind's downtime, i don't think anything you decide to do is fundamentally better or worse than any other thing. but i do think social media is designed to manipulate our attention toward it during that downtime (and honestly, all other times) and that pisses me off. it also pisses me off that even though we impose cause-and-effect sequences to our interaction with social media, it doesn't often provide us with a narrative the way reading, watching tv, or listening to a podcast would. stories are a psychological necessity; without the mind's ability to perceive sequences of events and connect them, we wouldn't have memories. we would have no concept of time, of thinking into the past or casting our thoughts into the future. social media, in its drive to keep us scrolling, looking at posts with no narrative connection to one another, deprives us of the stories our minds seek during our downtime.

this got super long so i'm putting it under a cut. tl;dr you need to remove social media as a positive stimulus and build immediate positive stimuli into other aspects of your life. in other words, social media feels good immediately but neutral or bad over time; most other things like reading feel bad or neutral initially but good over time. so you have to find ways to make the latter feel good with the immediacy of the former.

i don't mean to be "old man shakes fist at cloud" about this. i'm a millennial. from facebook's widespread release through the beginning of the pandemic, i raced to every new social media platform. i was an early myspace adopter. my high school graduating class was the very first year people outside of college could use facebook, and so we're the first cohort to have all befriended each other before graduation and never lost touch, completely removing the appeal of a reunion. i joined twitter in 2008 but never used it, and i joined tumblr in 2012 and never stopped using it.

i remember the day i got a smartphone. i was a few years behind everyone else. it was 2010 and i'd just gotten my first office job and i was desperate to be able to look at social media, scroll through stuff or read something, when i was bored. it was an iPhone 4. and as soon as i got it out of the box, i sat and played on it for 10 straight hours.

for those of you who are too young to remember a time before smartphones, i can't emphasize enough how much they changed things. in my life, i went from waking up and eating breakfast and reading for a little bit, to waking up and eating breakfast and getting on my computer to look at facebook and read my daily webcomics, to waking up and reaching over to my nightstand and looking at my phone.

and i don't know, i just decided i didn't want that anymore. last fall i was at this artist residency with no cell service and barely any wifi. and one day the wifi went out. i had a visceral negative reaction to that, which made me step back and go, oh wow, i am way too tethered to the internet. that day, wandering around the property with nothing to do, i got this intense urge to read an old paperback novel. you know, the mass market paperbacks with the pulpy yellow paper and the misaligned typeface. and so i found a very old copy of fellowship of the ring, cracked it open, and read it all day.

the thing about getting away from social media is that it's slow. i don't think you can really go cold turkey. when i got home from the residency, i went on a long hiatus and had all these strict rules for myself about when i was allowed to look at my phone and when i wasn't, but that didn't really work for me. but i did delete all the social media apps from my phone, and on my computer i logged out of all of them and deleted my saved passwords, so if i wanted to check them, i had to go to that extra step of logging in and even typing in my password. and that doesn't seem like a lot, but when you're checking social media out of habit, muscle memory, something to attend to that might give you a brief blip of dopamine, having to type your password is just one step too far. the brief pleasure i would get from checking my notifications was less than the hassle of logging in.

and that's what it all comes down to: feeling good. in the moment, it feels good to check a social media app, to see that somebody has interacted with your content or maybe with you directly. it's that tiny subconscious exclamation point, the feeling we get when somebody politely smiles or waves at us, when a dog comes up to us wagging his tail, when a well-meaning stranger compliments your outfit. that's the social part of social media. but that's also the part that keeps us cycling through our apps out of habit and boredom.

so you have to take away that stimulus from yourself, and you have to create positive stimuli elsewhere. to take away the positive stimulus of social media, you have to stop posting content on it. content is the mind killer. when you tweet something, your impulse might be to check that someone has interacted with it. but if you step away from the great conversation of social media, nobody speaks back to you, and you develop more patience for the longer-term good feelings of reading a book.

of course, that's complicated. i guess the first step that i did a long time ago was losing interest in traffic and developing the internal validation skills that make interaction on social media a bonus, not a need. before that, though, i had a drive to be seen and listened to. i think i just grew out of that. regardless of the existence of the internet, all people throughout history have spent their lives developing their relationship with themselves, learning who they are and coming to accept it. i'm not sure there's a way to rush that inner journey along.

creating positive stimuli is a matter of adopting a kind of little-treat attitude toward things. you have to really pay attention to yourself. the day i picked up the fellowship of the ring, i remembered that paper is important to me. vitally important. i like to write on it. i like to read from it. and it's kind of weird to say "paper is my special interest," but it is. all tools of writing interest me. so acknowledging that, accepting it and choosing to accommodate it, was my first small goal of building immediate positive stimuli.

some of the connection we have to social media (and phones in general) is the physical habit that develops from it. when smokers quit smoking, their hands feel empty. they're used to having something between their fingers, and so they replace that with something like a pen or a straw.

for me, i replaced the physical habit of phone-checking with paper-holding, either in the form of a book, or a notebook and pen. i set about finding my perfect notebook: the one that feels best to hold, the one i'm eager to fill, the one whose paper is quality enough that i love to write on it. the one i found and that kind of changed my life was a Rhodia A4 spiral bound. i take it everywhere with me. in fact i went to the doctor earlier this week and because i was holding my notebook, it didn't even occur to me to look at my phone while i was waiting for the doctor to see me, even though it was in my pocket (and i did download tumblr again, and instagram to support my sister, who is kind of a local influencer). the positive stimulus of looking at it had become less than the positive stimulus of holding my notebook. the potential to easily write something or doodle felt better than the distraction of social media.

did my doctor probably think it was weird that i was taking notes? maybe. did i look weird sitting in the theater before seeing oppenheimer, brainstorming barbie fic ideas? definitely. but i just don't care anymore. sometimes making healthy choices for yourself in a world built to manipulate your attention makes you look weird.

my advice is to spend a week without social media apps on your phone, logged out of them on your computer, and pay very close attention to the things that make you happiest. find ways to interact with those things continuously, and see what happens.

#writing advice #reading advice #social media

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