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lov3nerdstuff · 11 hours ago
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Virtual Strangers {Part 2}
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*Tom Hiddleston x reader*
Parts: 2/9
Words: 6.3k
Summary: When you first replied to a stray text message that was accidentally sent to you from an unknown number, you couldn't have known who the virtual stanger on the other end was, or would be. You couldn't have known that he was soon to become your very best friend and steady companion. You couldn't have known that you would fall for him quite as deeply as you did. You couldn't have known. After all, you had never even seen a glimpse of each other, nor heard the other's voice. You only ever conversed through text messages, even if you did so every day and every night. You couldn't have known that you would fall for a stranger, who you knew even better than yourself. Even if you did not know his name. Yet there is another question that remains unspoken: If you really are best friends and even live in the same city, why does he not want to meet you in person?
~virtual strangers to friends to lovers~
A.N.: What exactly are you getting from this story, you ask? An online friendship-turned-romance? Check. Flirting via texts? Check. Annoyed yet overly supportive publicist and friend Luke? Check. Literary references to classical literature and plays? Check. Bobby being adorable and a valid character in the story? Check. Just the right twinge of angst? Check. Humour? Check. Fluff? Check. Super long chapters because I just can't be bothered to keep it short? Hell yeah.
Find Part 1 here! All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!
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When you woke up to the blaring sound of your alarm, you couldn't help inwardly cursing yourself for always staying up so bloody late. When you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to turn the annoying sound off however, your barely open eyes fell upon the little icon telling you that you had received a new message, and your mind finally caught up again with the reason for your staying up late. The texts exchanged with T, the discussion about Shakespeare… The best conversation you'd had in forever. Blinking, you felt more awake in an instant as you sat up in your bed, rubbing your tired eyes before you finally opened the messaging app with a smile on your face.
T: 'I am very glad to have made your bad day a little bit better; that might just be my only true accomplishment of the day. Or the only one that matters, at least. Believe it or not, I was also not having the best night before I happened upon you, and I would be a fool to deny that our conversation has thoroughly turned my week around. I am very inclined to keep on talking, or rather writing to you, Y/n. After all, we haven't even started on the Sonnets yet ;) But for now, indeed, let that be goodnight.'
Your smile turned just a tad brighter while you read the message a second time, just to make sure your sleep fogged brain hadn't misinterpreted anything. But no, the meaning was still the same: T had enjoyed your conversation quite as much as you had, and he wasn't opposed to keeping on texting about sundry and the world. Well, about Shakespeare and literature. But that was what you had connected over after all, and the prospect of actually having someone to share your thoughts on the matter with was exciting enough to keep the smile on your face even as you crawled out of the comfort of your bed to get ready for the day.
It was only when you stuffed your laptop back into your work bag and put on your coat and shoes that the smile was slowly replaced by a frown. Would you come off as a creep if you texted back right away? As desperate or annoyingly clingy perhaps? Should you wait until tonight, or even worse, until another day before sending another message? Gods, those were questions people would usually ask themselves when it came to dating, not casual intellectual encounters with virtual strangers. But you couldn't help feeling torn about what to do, and that didn't change even in the slightest during your hasty commute to work. Hadn't T said he wasn't much of a texting person anyway? Just because he wanted to keep talking to you didn't automatically mean he would want to keep constantly talking to you, like you had done last night. But you really didn't want to wait half a week to say the exact same things you would much rather just say right away. So it was either suppressing the surprisingly strong impulse to talk to him now to be safe in terms of social standards, or to go for it and possibly upset him. Ugh… You didn't know what to do. Only five minutes prior to your seminar, you finally got a grip on yourself and decided to test the waters of the new day with something short and innocuous.
Y: 'I'm glad to hear that I made your evening a bit better as well! I hope you've still managed to reach out to the guy you originally meant to text nonetheless, by now. I'll just assume he didn't want to talk Sonnets with you then, seeing as that honour's been left to me ;) have a nice day!'
That was inconspicuous, yet prompting enough to allow a conversation to start into either direction, should T fancy to pick it up from here. This would have to do, for now. Right? Or should you make it clearer that you would enjoy his virtual company even on a more… constant basis? Geez, you were just being too much again. Like always. But you still felt somewhat proud of yourself for being clingy with your new acquaintance without sounding clingy, and in the contentment of that knowledge you slipped your phone into your bag for the time being and finally started your class.
… … …
Tom woke up to the seemingly incessant sound of his phone vibrating on his wooden nightstand, ringing harshly in his ears like a chainsaw in the process of demolishing his entire bedroom. A low growl started somewhere deep in his chest long before he was able to phrase any actual words of vain protest, and when thought became a possibility at last, he wondered who on earth would wake him up this bloody early. He usually was an early riser by nature, so if something or someone woke him up before his time, it logically had to be at a crazy hour still. Only that he'd made those calculations under the premise that he went to bed at a reasonable hour, and since last night had been anything but reasonable, the glimpse at the time he got when he unlocked his phone all but woke him up the remaining bit. Ten o'clock and counting… well, fuck.
With a groan he dropped his phone onto his bed and removed himself from the very piece of furniture simultaneously, hurrying first to the bathroom, then the wardrobe and finally down the stairs into the open hallway where Bobby was already waiting by the door with a reproachful glance up at his master.
"I know I know, I'm sorry!" Tom sighed defeatedly while he tried to somehow put on his shoes and clasp the leather leash onto his impatient companion's collar at once. Half a minute later they were out the door and on their way to the park, all as ever, only a good two hours later than was usual for off-work days. What a great start to the day… Tom scoffed quietly and shook his head to himself. At least Bobby seemed to have forgiven him for the delay as soon as they'd been outside, but his own mind was still on edge nevertheless. Did he have any meetings or tasks scheduled for today? No, nothing that he knew of. That was something, at least. He would have to check his phone that was still buried deeply somewhere under his sheets once he returned home nonetheless, in case Luke had called, but otherwise he would have the day off.
Speaking of his phone… now that he had the time to think about it, he wondered whether you had sent him a new message already, or if perhaps you weren't that kind of person at all. The kind who grew instantly and overly attached to the few select people who had managed to catch your interest, to the point of wanting to give them an infinite amount of attention and hoping for much the same in return. The kind he knew himself to be. Would you be like that as well? Or were you someone who texted casually with some dozen people at once, replying to some messages and to others not, always a couple of days in between? Tom found himself hoping for the former, but feared that it would rather end up being the latter.
Oh well… At least he wasn't so far gone in the haze of fame that he expected everyone and anyone to reply to him immediately all the time just because he supposedly was someone. No, he knew enough people who acted like that, and he never ceased to be repelled by such behaviour. For him, it was more of a deeply rooted wish to be thought of, to not be forgotten. To mean something to someone, not to be someone to others. So if you hadn't replied by the time he got home, he would force himself to accept that and adapt to your pace of conversation instead. He didn't know a thing about texting, after all… Perhaps it would be a good thing to let you take the lead.
That in return gave him all the more reason to smile when he finally did check his phone upon his arrival at home, to find not one, but two new messages from you. (And he also found the inevitable text from Dave that there was no news on the script yet, but in the light of hearing from you again, Tom found himself almost alright with the lack of progress at the work front for once.) Thus smiling to himself, he now made his way into the kitchen for some much needed tea and breakfast, and finally opened the messaging app.
Y: 'I'm glad to hear that I made your evening a bit better as well! I hope you've still managed to reach out to the guy you originally meant to text nonetheless, by now. I'll just assume he didn't want to talk Sonnets with you then, seeing as that honour's been left to me ;) have a nice day!'
Tom let out a huff in amusement at the thought of talking Shakespeare with Dave… what a crazy idea. But he found it remarkable that you even cared about whether or not he had still gotten a hold of the right person after all. That, much like your first few replies last night, spoke of at least some kind of interest in his person beyond just his opinion on old tomes, right? Tom found himself oddly excited by that possibility, as if it was some kind of admirable achievement to be of interest to someone just by being his own silly self, not because he was who he was in public. He shook the thought out of his head for now and made himself go on to read the second message you had sent. That one was only from half an hour ago, and he instantly felt guilty for failing to reply to your first message sooner than that.
Y: 'I mean, we don't have to talk about Sonnets, if you'd rather not… Even though you suggested it yourself, so why wouldn't you want to talk about them, right…? Gah, I'm sorry, I'm just awkward when I'm not sure what to do. I really want to talk to you more, but I also really don't want to annoy you by sending you random messages like this one right here without being asked to or having any reason other than simply wanting to. You'd think someone close to a PhD would know how to handle that, but I realize that I just sound absolutely stupid at the moment, so I'll just shut up now. Sorry.'
While your text made Tom chuckle in amusement, he also couldn't deny that he'd had some of the very same thoughts on his walk with Bobby just before, and that hearing these concerns from you now was oddly relieving in return. Perhaps you were just like him after all… the kind of person who poured themselves into their choices way too quickly, and way too thoroughly. For common standards, at least. Before overthinking things again, he quickly went to type a reply at long last.
T: 'Good morning, Y/n. Or rather, almost good noon! I apologise for not replying any sooner, my morning turned out to be unexpectedly stressful. I really didn't mean to give you the impression that you were annoying me, not at all. On the contrary, I was having very much the same concerns about possibly bothering you if I just texted you out of every whim or fancy I have as you apparently did. People have been telling me for ages that I tend to be too much when I'm not careful to hold back, that intensity and depth of character aren't socially acceptable, that my interest and attention are perceived as exhausting and overwhelming. Perhaps some of the same things have been said to you before as well? I wouldn't know, and you certainly don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But perhaps we can settle this uncertainty on either end by saying that neither will annoy the other by being intense, or random, or truthfully ourselves. Isn't that why we ended up talking quite so deeply and passionately about literature last night in the first place, because neither of us can be like that elsewhere, with anyone else? Perhaps we can allow ourselves to be like that with each other. Would that be alright?'
When Tom read over his message another time before sending it, he realized that it had gotten both quite a bit longer and quite a bit more personal than intended. But it still felt just right like that, ridiculously right even to be himself and forward with his own thoughts for once, and changing anything about the message would only defy the meaning and purpose of everything he had just typed out in the first place. Being truthful without precautions. So he got over his insecurity and hit send in the same determination he had reasoned himself into last night already; with you, he would be himself. He would be T, and the prospect of that alone made him smile to himself yet again. This whole thing was only difficult if he made it to be. And for once, he wouldn't. In that knowledge he dropped his phone on the counter, and finally went to prepare an early lunch instead of breakfast. After all, he could have his tea with that as well.
… … …
You had just talked yourself out of your repeated pattern of reminding yourself that you had made a complete tart out of yourself with your messages to T, when finally your phone's noisy ping made both you and the professor whose office you shared jump out of your seats. The elderly man shot you a mean glare from across the room before returning to his work, while you however just released a low breath and set your phone on mute as quickly as possible. Thank the gods that your colleague had already condemned you anyway, right from the moment he'd been told you would be sharing his office, but that way you at least didn't have to worry about keeping up a reputation with him now.
Your train of thoughts came to a sudden halt when you finally opened the messaging app to read the message T had just sent, and with every word you took in your smile broadened and your day brightened in return. How could coincidences be crazy like that, to let you meet someone who was saying exactly what you were thinking? What were the odds that you would encounter the first and only person to have no problem with your truthful self at all, through a wrong bloody phone number?! It didn't matter… You just felt relieved, and excited about the prospect of being able to speak (or write) your mind whenever you felt like it now. Somehow, you had an inkling that you wouldn't just be talking about Shakespeare after all… Not when you obviously had quite a bit more in common than just your interest for literature. With the lingering smile on your face, you went to reply.
Y: 'That would be more than just alright, T. I'm very happy about this, you should see my stupidly excited face! I've never met someone who also has been told these things, to stop being passionate about matters and instead sit down quietly like a good girl (or boy, I guess). It's both relieving and sad to know that you have gone through that as well. We shouldn't have to hide like that… But I guess we can just let it all out on each other now ;) That sounds great, to be honest. And as far as a stressful morning goes, I do absolutely understand and I'm very much with you on that. I've had an hour-long debate with the printer and the WiFi, and then the bloody coffee maker died on me just out of solidarity with them. By now I believe technology has declared war on me today.'
This time around, it only took him roughly five minutes to answer you, and you had your phone on hand again in an instant.
T: 'I've heard numerous stories of both good people and good printers losing their fight to the unconquerable entity of the mighty WiFi. And your coffee maker sounds like an arse just for betraying you; perhaps try with tea next time, it is said to be a rather loyal companion in dark times.'
You let out an unintentional snort, unable to keep from grinning to yourself even as you felt a fair of eyes mustering you in annoyance from the other end of the room. Shaking your head to yourself, you let work be work and focused on texting back for now instead.
Y: 'You sound terribly British even for a Brit (which I will just assume you are), you know that? I bet you're having your baked beans and eggs on toast with your Earl Grey as a proper early luncheon right now. Probably reading the morning paper all the while?'
T: 'How did you know that? Am I that predictable to you already? ;)'
With the text, he had sent a picture of a wooden table set with precisely the foods and items you had previously described, all neatly arranged to make a rather pretty ensemble. Your lips parted in amusement, and you let out half of a laugh while you replied right away.
Y: 'I believe you’ve just made my day yet again, T… That's actually hilarious, impeccable timing, beautifully set and all. Should I better get used to odd coincidences when it comes to you?'
T: 'Actually, my life is usually rather void of unpredictable circumstances and thus severely lacking any coincidences. Must be entirely your doing, my dear.'
Y: 'There's always more than one party involved in coincidences, and that in return makes for the unpredictable circumstances ;) Haven't you learned about models of communication in whatever degree it is you have quite obviously studied?!'
T: 'I have a degree in classics, actually. Hardly any communication involved in that ;)'
Y: '...A classics degree literally is the study of old languages and cultures, T! I know that as well as you obviously do, seeing as I can spot your sarcasm from miles away right now, and probably also because I sit across the hall from the guys in our own classics department every day.'
T: 'You do?'
Y: 'Yes, well… Classics and English Lit are basically hallmates here at uni. I work for the literature department at one of the colleges while writing my dissertation. Gotta pay for the bloody thing after all, and somehow also stay on top of the bills. You'll already know that, but London really isn't the cheapest place to be living. At least I'm almost done with my doctorate.'
T: 'So that's why you have such an extensive knowledge about literature! I had a vague idea after last night that you might actually be an expert in the field after all ;) I assume you teach as well then, besides doing your research?'
Y: 'Yep… Just undergrad level classes though, which honestly aren't the greatest joy to go through. Usually, there are subzero chances to have a proper discussion about anything other than people's grades.'
T: 'Well, I will do my utmost to be an acceptable surrogate for that vacancy then :) I haven't studied literature in such a scientific regard for too long myself, but I believe we made do with my own, different perspective just fine yesterday.'
Y: 'You aren't just any surrogate, T! If I wanted to hear a scientific opinion I could go two doors down the hall from where I sit and bore myself to death with my colleagues who have read roughly the same texts I have. It would be clinical and technical and without any passion, and more about the work for work's sake than about the subject for its own value. I believe you know what I mean. So you will also have to believe me that I appreciate your specific take and perception way more than any other, scientific or not. On my end we're equals: either both experts, or both idiots. That's your choice ;)'
T: 'I think we have sufficiently proven by now that we can be both at once, and that is something I find rather brilliant. It's a quality I see far too rarely in people. Being an adult these days means being expected to be intelligent, competent and polite in a variety of settings, but for a great deal of people that translates to being restrained, shallow and passionless, or straight out boring in all regards of life. There's nothing wrong with being silly sometimes, or with taking chances just because they might end up being worth it.'
Y: 'Chances like replying to a stray text from a stranger out of an impulse, only to end up finding out that you have more in common with them than with any of your other acquaintances?'
T: 'Yes, that makes for a perfect example ;) And just out of curiosity, do you have many acquaintances to keep up with? I need to know how much of your time I may monopolise, after all ;)'
Y: 'Very funny, T… And no, I don't, actually. I have a few colleagues I sometimes (rarely) tag along with when invited, but otherwise I am best acquainted with my work. It's a vicious circle, really… I work too much because I don't have any friends, and I have no friends because I work too much. So do feel free to monopolise as much of my time as you fancy, it will be most appreciated. How about you?'
T: 'Much the same for me, I'm afraid. I usually am rather busy with work, there's no telling around it… But I do tend to push it to the limits as well, simply because I have little else to do. My acquaintances are usually colleagues in one way or another, and even though I do have a couple hundred of those, I would consider very few of them my friends.'
Before you could reply that you knew the feeling, or wonder how someone could have a couple hundred acquaintances, he sent a second message right after to follow up the first.
T: 'There is someone very special in my life though; my darling and best friend, the reason I get up in the morning and the cause of my delight and despair at once. Someone you will inevitably have to share me with, because he tries incessantly and as hard as he can to monopolise my time indeed.'
You frowned to yourself at the text, feeling both confused and desperately curious just by the way he had phrased that statement. But most of all you found yourself surprised by the fact that you hadn't even considered if T was in a relationship or not. Perhaps even married, with a kid or two! Who knew, after all… And obviously, that special someone in his life was a he as well. Not that you minded in the least, but you still felt like you had missed a crucial detail to see the whole picture, because somehow it didn't make sense. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you decided to just go for it and ask.
Y: 'So… you're gay? Or you have a flatmate you're very fond of? Living with a brother, or a son, perhaps?'
T: 'No, yes, and not quite ;)'
With that text and before you could further wonder about its crypticism, he sent you a picture of a dark brown Cocker Spaniel who looked up into the camera with curious eyes while lolling around the leg of the same wooden table you'd seen in the picture before. You instantly started smiling down at your phone with heart eyes, and couldn't help the 'aww' on your lips even though you still weren't alone in the office. You didn't even care as you kept on smiling at the picture; what a cutie!
T: 'This is him, the best friend I have ;) But I think he wouldn't be opposed to some competition from you when it comes to monopolising my time.'
You let out a snort, then shook your head to yourself. So T had a dog… and he wasn't gay. You could work with that information; it fit the puzzle a whole lot better than the other options you had briefly considered.
Y: 'Aahh he is adorable! I have a great fondness for dogs, if they are friendly to me as well :) What's his name? Or can you not tell me that either?'
T: 'Well, if I'm T, then he's B. Can you live with that without being too disappointed by my continuing secrecy?'
Y: 'It's alright… He's adorable after all, so I'll let it slip for his sake ;) Tell B my sincerest thanks, then, for allowing me to steal some of your time from him.'
T: 'Will do. His preferred method of payment is either doggy treats or belly rubs, both to be supplied in sufficient amounts of course. I will compensate him in your stead, if you fancy.'
Y: 'Very much so, I would hate for your best friend to be cross with me after all. And I'm used to having to pay for attention and affection, so that is quite alright.'
The moment you hit send, you realized how terribly wrong what you had written might sound to some minds, and you quickly sent a second message with a roll of your eyes directed at yourself, while the inevitable heat crept up your neck in an instant.
Y: 'Obviously I didn't mean LITERALLY paying for affection, in the way some certain people do, in some certain places… That all came out so wrong, oh god. Aaaaand I'm positively mortified.'
T: 'Please don't be, dear. I didn't believe you were implying anything like that, don't worry ;) But what exactly are you trying to say?'
Y: 'Well, I just meant that it isn't news to me that I have to compensate people somehow for the attention and kindness they show me. Like… When an acquaintance sits with me during lunch, I do some of their work for them later. When they have a longer chat with me at the pub, I pay for their drinks. When they invite me along to go out, I watch over their stuff while they dance. Things like that. You know, the usual. But I was just joking when applying it to B just now, I trust him not to make me pay for you being nice to me.'
T: 'Hold on, I'm confused… Do you really do all these things, and do you do them because you want to be kind, or because you think they are expected of you?'
Y: 'What an odd question… in an interesting way, I mean. Yes, I really do those things for the few acquaintances I have. But let's start with the first part: Of course I want to be kind, and I try to be whenever I can. I think it is important to repay kindness with kindness, because you want to preserve it. Like watering a plant instead of plucking its flowers. Now for the second part: I know for a fact that these things are expected of me. Whenever an acquaintance of mine spends some time with me outside of the mandatory work talk, I will find some of their work to be done on my desk later, or they will hand me the bill at the end of the evening, or I'm told to watch over their things because I don't dance anyway (even though I do dance… They just never asked me to.) So really, kindness has nothing much to do with it, it's just a simple trade. Don't you do that with your acquaintances as well?'
T: 'Working from the bottom up: No, I don't. Usually I know even the most rudimentary acquaintanceships to work based on kindness and mutual interest or respect for each other rather than paid trading. I'm terribly sorry that you had to go through such trades to get someone to spend time with you; I can only hope to assure you that it had nothing to do with you as a person. You are absolutely lovely just as you are, and I can indeed say that because as little as I might yet know about you, I still am getting a pretty good idea of WHO YOU ARE just by having talked to you for a few hours now. And I think they make you pay for their time and attention, simply because you let them. You are kind, and willing to be kind to them to a degree they clearly don't deserve. I'm admittedly not a fan of Freud and his theories (should you be familiar, which I am very sure you are, you will know why), but I think he might've been onto something when he said that the average person will take advantage of their neighbours if given the chance to justify it to themselves. And your willingness to trade kindness for their time and attention obviously was a good enough justification for them to make it a trade. I assume that this isn't what you originally meant when you said to repay kindness with kindness though, is it?'
Y: 'Not really, no. But I do think you're right about my acquaintances, and why they do what they do… They likely don't deserve my kindness, and I certainly shouldn't trade it for their attention. It has just become a habit by now, one I was only vaguely aware of until I just put it into words for you. I guess I better shall try to break with it, if you can already spot it after a few minutes of hearing me babble. But then again, I also think that being kind to someone who doesn't deserve or warrant your kindness at all is the greatest act of strength a person can deliver. Though I have to admit that while sometimes I'm strong by that definition, other times I'm clearly not. In that sense I both admire and pity those poor people who live a public life, like politicians, celebrities, athletes and so on. They have no choice but to either be incessantly kind to everyone all the time, or to be shunned by the world for being human like the rest of us.'
T: 'You would be surprised by how many famous people are kind simply and only because it is expected of them, and only while they are standing in front of the cameras and audiences. But even those who seem honestly kind and caring by nature reach a point where it's all nothing more than smoke and mirrors, no matter how much they would want to be sincere in it. In a way, they also pay for attention with kindness, now that I think about it. A habit as well. It's kind of disappointing, isn't it? To be disillusioned like that.'
Y: 'Why would it be? Not even the kindest person on earth could possibly be kind to everyone all the time, and they shouldn't be either.'
T: 'What makes you think that?'
Y: 'If you are trying to always be kind to everyone, you ultimately forget to be kind to the most important person of them all, namely yourself. Being kind means giving, and even if occasionally you are given a little kindness in return, you can only keep on giving for so long without running empty. Sometimes the best thing you can do is to be kind to yourself, and to protect yourself by not giving all you have. To not let yourself run empty.'
T: 'But what if you gain more from the act of giving than what you lost through it in the first place?'
Y: 'But is it still kindness then that makes you give, or isn't it much rather love?'
T: 'That… is an incredibly fascinating thought. So much so that I don't quite know what to say. I agree, I assume… I know I do, for I know that I want to. Perhaps kindness IS a way of loving, in the end, or at least they come together in their selflessness.'
Y: 'In Blake's words, your argument stands… ›Love seeketh not itself to please, / Nor for itself hath any care, / But for another gives its ease, / And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.‹ … and in Blake's words, your argument falls. ›Love seeketh only self to please, / To bind another to its delight, / Joys in another's loss of ease, / And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.‹'
T: 'Yet, isn't that quite the ambivalence we have been talking about this entire time? An impossible balance of two sides that are still of the one same essence. The same thing, changed to opposites by disposition… One is bred of innocence, one of experience; both important themes for Blake, as you probably know. He applies it to love right here, but we might just say the same thing for kindness. Innocence, to be taken as selflessness, is which makes of kindness the act of strength; its goal only to be found in itself. Experience, therefore to be taken as selfishness, makes of kindness a tool to achieve one's end through bargain or deceit. The difference lies not in the outcome for the other, but in the strength it takes to stay innocent in the self.'
Y: 'Now YOU are the one who renders me speechless, T… That is an incredibly clever line of argumentation! And you even backed up my previous argument with it, so thank you for that ;)'
T: '...I did? How so?'
Y: 'Hehe… You thought it disappointing and disillusioning that people (regardless of who they are) eventually cease to be kind out of sincerity, and go over to pretense. But your entire line of argument just proved that it's a deeply human flaw, and one of circumstance rather than of character: if your strength runs out, you lose your innocence, and you thereby lose the sincerity in your kindness. And if you scroll back up a bit, you will find my elaboration on running empty eventually if you give too much of your kindness to others without getting enough back. Equal up kindness and strength, and you have just proven my argument ;)'
T: 'Oh dear… I didn't even notice I had come around to your side. You are too clever for me, Y/n.'
Y: '...says the guy who used Blake's thematic categories to build a flawless line of argumentation while I merely stated my opinion…'
T: 'You started with Blake.'
Y: 'I only quoted Blake, you started with the interpretation of his themes. Now stop talking yourself out of this and accept that you are really quite brilliant, T! You can't hide that from me, you know ;)'
T: 'Ehehe… Coming from you, I will take that as a sincere compliment. Thank you.'
Y: 'Of course it's a sincere compliment, you nut! I'm not spilling my life's flaws in detail to you only to then lie to you in empty phrases. Besides, I could be way more creative than that if I intended to be insincere.'
T: 'I have no doubt about that. And I have no doubt about your sincerity either, which is a most welcome change for me. It's never that easy, especially not with the job I do. Speaking of work, I'm not keeping you from yours, right? I am having a rare day off for once, as you might have guessed from the luncheon, and that has rather led me to forget that you actually might still have to attend to your work nonetheless.'
Y: 'It's perfectly fine, I'm in no hurry to be doing anything specific today, I'm weeks ahead of what I ought to do… That's the advantage of doing little besides working all day, every day. You get quite far ahead. Besides, even if I end up being busy at times, feel free to talk to me nonetheless if you feel like it. I'll reply when I can ;)'
T: 'I will remember that and most likely make use of it before I can help myself :) Please, feel free and welcome to do the same. (Just don't be surprised, I am sometimes kept busy and without a cellphone for many hours on end. It comes with the job, which can be both a curse and blessing.) Do you have classes to give today?'
Y: 'Yeah, I had one at eight and will have another at two.'
T: 'Two in the afternoon? Today…?'
Y: 'Yes?'
T: 'I don't mean to impose, but that's in five minutes. Have you lost track of time? (I really can't blame you; I can't quite believe that it's already gotten so late myself.)'
Y: 'Ahh fuck, no no no… Alright, I got to go. Run, actually. I'll talk to you later! Go give B some attention ;)'
T: 'Will do. He will be delighted to go for another stroll in the rain, I'm sure. You enjoy your class, and if I don't drown in the meantime, I will talk to you later indeed.'
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aergiaowo · 18 hours ago
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Tom in a flower crown what more you need in life
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andymorganz · a day ago
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Remembering that I hope to connect with people with a vibe like mine ❤️
Lembrando que espero mim conectar a pessoas com uma vibe igual a minha ❤️
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elliottzaine · a day ago
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this pic of tom holland is vv adorable 🥺
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hay-things · a day ago
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Elisabeth Olsen Part 1
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leeroysdancer · a day ago
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Tony: why are you lying on the floor?
Peter: I lost something
Tony: what did you lose?
Peter: my balance
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simp4fictionmen · 3 days ago
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𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝑹𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔
~I’m not a writer, but I love reading~
Many contain smut and 18+ content…MINORS DNI!
♘ my favorites | ♙ not on Tumblr
List is still being filled!
ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟ
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𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀:
♔ series | two-parts
Take Care by @cherrypickertheory ♘
His Koala Bear by @kinanabinks
Suburban Pleasure by @kinanabinks
More Than A Monster by @nastybuckybarnes ♘
Time To Run by @syntheticavenger
Where The Angels Fear To Tread by @mysterioh ♙♘
Hold On Loosely by @iwillbeinmynest
Flight Risk by @wkemeup
♕ one-shots
Ruin Our Friendship by @bucksfucks ♘
Touch by @nastybuckybarnes
I Wanna Be Yours by @artisancowbells
Well Taken Care Of by @bloomingbucky
𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀:
♔ series | two-parts
The Witness by @wkemeup ♘
Speckled by @bucksfucks
Fake Boyfriends Real Orgasms by @bucksfucks ♘
The Match by @babyboibucky
Project V by @babyboibucky
Howlin’ For You by @invisibleanonymousmonsters
Her Soft Animal by @kinanabinks ♘
♕ one-shots
I Am Your Fall by @sinner-as-saint
Sweet & Salty by @bucksfucks
I’m Gonna Love You by @kinanabinks ♘
Perv by @kinanabinks
ᴀᴄᴛᴏʀꜱ & ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ
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𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀 𝗘𝘃𝗮𝗻𝘀:
♔ series | two-parts
The Babysitter by @bucksfucks
♕ one-shots
Sunday Football by @bucksfucks
𝘼𝙣𝙙𝙮 𝘽𝙖𝙧𝙗𝙚𝙧:
♔ series | two-parts
The Intern by @beyzasblr
Forbidden by @wintrcaptn
♕ one-shots
Wicked As Sin by @kinanabinks
𝘼𝙧𝙞 𝙇𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣:
♔ series | two-parts
After All This Time by @shellbilee
♕ one-shots
𝙍𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙢 𝘿𝙧𝙮𝙨𝙙𝙖𝙡𝙚:
♔ series | two-parts
♕ one-shots
Caught by @bucksfucks
Leather Wallet, Velvet Purse by @kinanabinks
Kiss Me Likes It’s Real by @kinanabinks ♘
𝗦𝗲𝗯𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗻:
♔ series | two-parts
♕ one-shots
Drummer Boy by @starshipsofstarlord
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lots of people say jim carrey would make a good joker and like, i kind of get what they see? but as a self-proclaimed Connoisseur of Good Portrayals of The Joker™ ... i just don’t think carrey could bring us the scary criminal side, y’know? granted, maybe he’s done an obscure, unhinged role somewhere that i haven’t seen, but based on what i do know... it just doesn’t seem like the right fit.
even if it was a goofier tone like cesar romero, or hell, jack nicholson’s joker compared to heath ledger’s, nicholson’s joker was still intimidating, and i am not initially intimidated by carrey sgshgshgsh
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aquarianinfj · 3 days ago
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Oh Right,
the robots,
the robots sent back in time,
the time traveling robots that turn the deadly laser on the Earth....
Those robots?
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heavensentghost · 3 days ago
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considering dropping all kind of fandoms... this shit is so toxic, oh my god.
like, it's no even just a single fandom I'm in. it's every single one. now that I saw it I cannot go back to the way it was before. or maybe its that in these few months it has escalated to being beyond hostile. its very fucked up.
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revisionaryhistory · 3 days ago
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Three Days ~ 92
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~*~Sebastian~*~
I love how Emma expanded on what I wanted to include a strip show. I love how this was no big deal. We do all the things that people who have sex do. We're not shy around each other. For me, that's not always the case. I know I'm not alone in that. It depends on the partner and the relationship. There's risk in asking for what you want or revealing a fantasy. And risk is about acceptance and the relationship. With Emma, both are good. Better than good.
Watching Emma touch herself was even better. After our chat beforehand, I didn't even try not to touch myself. When she was done I was ready. It was over too quick.
She wrapped her arms and legs around me in a full-body hug. "Enjoy?"
I lifted my head, pressing my lips to hers. "I appreciate you indulging me."
"Pshh, that was just fun."
I rolled over onto the bed, taking her hand and holding it on my stomach. I turned my head to look at her. I love her. This is what love feels like. I feel safe and cherished in a way that I know is a combination of what she does and me letting it in. Letting her in. What she said on the beach, how she feels joy and peacefulness when she sees me. I get it. I feel it.
"You didn't feel self-conscious or anything, did you?" Overthinking brain says I enjoyed this but should make sure she did. I don't want her to do something for me if she's not comfortable. I don't think she would. She'd tell me. But just in case.
"Nope." She leaned closer and kissed me. "With you, no. Because you like to look. At me. And the way you look at me, I feel desired and beautiful."
"You are beautiful and very very very desired."
Emma's smile was shy, "I give you what you like. You look at me in a way I like. It works." She kissed me slowly, "I would tell you if I didn't want to do something. I appreciate you checking."
"I love you."
"I love you."
I pulled her closer. "I also love naked."
"Naked is good." She snuggled in even closer, pressing all that delicious skin against mine. "What's the schedule for tomorrow?"
"First is a photo op with Anthony and I. Then individual. And last is the autograph session. I like pictures first, because a lot of the same people do the autographs. It's a little like we've met before. Plus if the autographs are last if they're taking longer I'm not late or rushing through the end. They feel more personal than stand-up stupids. Only tomorrow I could be late for getting back to you."
"Don't even think about me. I get you all the time. They get a minute. Don't short them."
"You're very sweet."
"I'm not concerned about sharing time with your fans. You'll hit your limit before I hit mine."
"This is true." Time to go back to us. We have limited time and there hasn't been nearly enough kissing. I like kissing. I also really like the part that usually comes after the kissing. There's not been enough of that either. Never enough sex.
We went from kissing to sex and back to kissing again. The kissing downshifted to cuddling, which turned into sleeping. Sleeping with good dreams of waking up holding the woman I love in my arms. When I woke up it wasn't a dream.
I didn't want breakfast. I was kind of nervous. Not unusual and not bad. Yesterday I was distracted and excited. Emma's arrival overrode any anxiety. We took our coffee out on the balcony. The beach was peppered with early morning runners and some families with kids running around picking up shells. Emma had ordered fresh fruit and was popping pieces in her mouth while watching the beach. "I have so many shells from when I was a kid. There are bowls and bottles full in my spaces. Georgia, Seattle, New York."
"You take the beach home with you."
She nodded, "Gotta clean them well to make sure you don't take home more of the beach than you planned." She shivered, "I don't like critters." She held out the bowl, "Want?"
"No, thanks. I'll grab something at the venue if I can't wait for dinner. Speaking of, what would you like?"
She tossed a blueberry in her mouth, "Let me take care of dinner. You've got a busy day."
"That sounds good. Make sure we can be back by sunset."
"Oh, I'm not missing your sunset fantasy." Emma stood up and picked up her fruit. "Come with me, Bastian."
I was up and following before she got through my name. "What are we doing?"
"You're doing that thing you do when you're nervous. Touching your face. Your hair. I'm going to distract you." She pointed, "Naked on the bed, please."
"I like this already." I'm not surprised at all that she knows my tell.
"Be still." She started placed pieces of fruit on my chest and stomach. "You get distracted and I get breakfast."
"With me as your plate?" I have no objections to being dinnerware.
"Yep." She popped the 'p' at the end of the word as she crawled over me. "If you change your mind and want some, let me know."
Emma kept her eyes on mine while she put her open mouth on my skin and used her tongue to scoop up a raspberry. I folded my hands behind my head, propping up enough to watch. Cause as we've established, I like to watch.
She bounced all over licking fruit off me, spending longer than necessary on certain places. Nipples, ridiculously low on my stomach where fruit should not be, but tongues should, and being very conscientious to get any juice that might leave a sticky spot on my side. Very conscientious. I love conscientiousness. I also love how as soon as breakfast was over she was still hungry for dessert.
~*~*~
While we were getting ready, Emma noticed my torn key fob on the table with my wallet. "What happened?"
It was a piece of leather that wrapped around a keyring and a hole at the other end where some sort of round disk had been. I had not told many people the story behind it. I decided to tell her. "This was my grandmother's. I only remember it having our apartment key on. I used to play with it all the time." I stuck my finger on the empty hole. "I don't remember what was here. I broke it though. My gran folded the metal in so I wouldn't cut myself. I used to spin it on my finger. When I left for Vienna she gave it to me so I would always be able to come home." I ran my finger along the side where the stitching was coming undone. “I should have retired it years ago. Now I don't have a choice." The leather that went through the keyring had thinned and torn. "Now I'm afraid I'm going to lose it." I was no more likely to lose it now than ever, but with it broken, gone was next.
Emma ran her hand from my shoulder down my bicep, "Do you want me to take it home?"
Why hadn't I thought of that? "Yes, please. I don't want to be without it, but I’m afraid to keep it too."  
She put her hand on my face and kissed me. "I would be too. Broken would make me protective."
"Exactly." I put it back on the table and hugged her. "Thank you."
Emma's smile made me feel warm all over. I watched her start putting her hair up. I winced. "You can't wear your hair up."
"Why?" She spun around from the mirror to look at me.
"You have a hickey on the back of your neck. " I shrugged, "I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry about anything."
Her glare was much less effective as she was smiling at the same time. "Did you do that on purpose?"
I shook my head innocently. "No. If I was to do it intentionally it would be on your inner thigh."
"Thank you for your discretion."
She gave me a kiss and soft grab between my legs.
I was in a great mood when we got to the venue. Anthony was already in the guest area. He looked at the invisible watch on his arm like he had last night, "And even early. Unexpected."
He stood up to hug Emma, "You look lovely, Miss Vedder."
"Thank you, Mr. Mackie." Emma gave him a playful smile. "It's fine that you're not a Pearl Jam fan."
He gasped and put his hand on his chest, "I never said that."
"I notice everything."
He held out an open hand toward me, "Then you are perfect for Mr. Thinks About Everything."
I nodded, "Smash us together and you get one full neurotic instead of two halves."
"Happiness you deserve."
Emma grimaced, "I don't use the word deserve." We both looked at her. "If people deserve good things it means people deserve bad things too."
That is the most cynical thing I’ve heard Emma say. Which isn't all that negative, but still. Before Anthony or I could respond, our managers were there to take us to our joint photo op. I kissed Emma and we were off.
Anthony looked in the direction Emma went, "Where's she going?"
"There's some street market at the Gaslight Quarter a block or so away. I can't exactly go."
"She seems like a woman who can amuse herself."
I laughed, "Yes, she can."
"I’m a little worried for you. Bradley kept saying, Ed's gonna kick my ass."
"The key is to not do anything to make Ed feel the need to kick my ass."
"That does seem like the smartest choice." We laughed walking down the hall. "I like her and I can tell you like her. I like that too. I'm happy for you."
"Thank you. I'm happy."
"I can tell. Do you know how I can tell? Cause your girlfriend has a hickey."
Fuck. "What's that have to do with being happy?"
"Not a damn thing. I just wanted you to know that I know."
The photo op with Anthony was fun. What sounded like random and often insane sentences were actually part of two or three different conversations we were having. I doubt I'll ever cease to be amazed by the poses we're asked to do. The ones with Anthony were slightly less homoerotic than the ones with Evans. All of us have fun with whatever. The dynamics are different. Things with Anthony are chaotic. He's the extrovert to my introvert. He jumps in and goes for it in a way I can't. I usually play off him. Chris and I are closer in energy. We both struggle with anxiety and when we're cutting up there is an undercurrent. We play well off each other too, but it’s different.
Anthony and I were in rare form. He kept throwing out shit to fuck with me. Inside jokes that no one else would understand. We had fun and so did the fans. My solo op was fun too. Prom poses, proposals, arguments, and silly stuff. And all the props. The tiara and magic wand reminded me of a fairy costume worn by a first-grade teacher. Then I thought of a wall and crumpled wings. Best to stay in the moment. Nothing but embarrassing photos can come from me thinking of a fairy with crumbled wings. There were a few shaking and tears and a few inappropriate comments. I was asked out for drinks several times. I guess you gotta shoot your shot.
I went back to the guest area after the last photo. I needed a few minutes to pee, get a drink, and maybe sit down. Emma was already there. Sitting with Anthony, laughing so hard there were tears running down her face. I grabbed a fresh cold bottle of water and a banana before joining them.
The current lie, I mean story, he was telling her was us celebrating after we'd been separately summoned, but passed in the elevator, for the meeting on The Falcon and The Winter Soldier. Since we weren't allowed to talk about it and anyone could put it together if the two of us were out in public, we'd bought liquor and went to his hotel room. Drunk would be an understatement. We prank called every Marvel costar. From our cell phones. Not so hard to figure out who was calling, but like I said... drunk. Everyone was good about it except RDJ. He was pissed. So pissed that he sent strippers to the hotel room. Then called the police because of noise and suspected prostitution. Luckily, he showed up just before we were handcuffed for resisting arrest. We both thought it was a joke and got mouthy, which didn't go over well. Turns out the strippers were real but the police were not. RDJ and Anthony had a good laugh while I had a panic attack. He stayed and got drunk, drunker, with us. Anthony told Emma I'd pissed my pants. That's completely untrue. I think. I'm not sure.
Anthony left us for his solo photo op. I directed the conversation away from me and my pants. "How was shopping?"
"Fun. Lots of artists and handmade things. I bought you something."
I raised my eyebrows, "You did?"
"First let me say I know there's no way it's a replacement, and it's not meant to be, I just saw it and thought it could serve the same function, without the emotional attachment."
"Disclaimer noted." She's very cute when she’s a little uncertain. I don’t see this version of her much.
Emma reached into her shirt and pulled out a pink and black oval stone. "It's a worry stone."
I took it from her, still warm from her body, and it fit naturally against my thumb.
"It's rhodonite. Supposed to reduce anxiety and release things that no longer serve you."
"And gives me something to fidget with."
She nodded.
“Thank you." I leaned to kiss her. "Why was it in your bra?"
Emma laughed, "I don't know I believe all this, but I went all in. The woman I bought it from said it would infuse the stone with me. If I held it close to my heart."
I kissed her again. "It's the thought that counts." I put it against my face. "Still warm."
"I have hot boobs."
"Oh, I know."
We walked to the curtains behind my autograph stall. Emma handed me a folded-up piece of paper, "Do not read this until after the ninth person."
"Ninth? "I shoved it in my pocket, "I'm scared."
"No need." She gave me a quick kiss. "Tu iubesc, Sebasti-an."
"Now I'm more scared."
Emma waved her fingers as she walked away. I watched her go. She had on khaki green shorts with a tie belt, a pink shirt with spaghetti straps and three buttons, and a pair of white sneakers. She looks cute and fun. If she wasn't already my girlfriend, I'd be trying to figure out how to get her to have a drink with me. I smiled at my luck, ducked between the curtains, and started the count down to the ninth person.
Person number four and seven gave me Quest bars. I was hungry. After person nine I took a step back to take a bite out of a bar and pull a note out of my pocket. I wonder why the ninth person? The note was handwritten and said, "I’m wearing your underwear."
I sucked in a breath full of Quest bar and started coughing. I reached for the water on the table. That's when I spotted my author leaning against a column. I shifted my eyes down to see her pulling the band of my boxers above her shorts where I could see. She did have on my underwear. I started to laugh, but then realized how hot that was. She's walking around in my fucking boxer briefs. The boxer briefs I was wearing became tighter and I was very thankful to be behind a high table with a skirting. That woman is crazy. Or more accurately, that woman makes me crazy. I shook my head with a smile and turned my attention to person number ten.
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