all the rpf please


Okay, I know I was late. Fanfic Writers Appreciation Day is on August 21 but I didn’t realize that until early today (as early as 2.15 AM).

Anyway, I just want to express how grateful I am that there are people like you, talented people, who have spent your time just to eloquently write something so beautiful and enjoyable to read. I am just one of your readers who have found how much your writings enjoyable, entertaining, and wonderful. Whether you realize it or no, you have made our days better simply by putting your imagination into words, taking us into the wonderful amazing world of fics.

I just want to list some of the fics that I have immensely enjoy in the Football RPF. However, this list is a very incomplete one and it will be very likely that I have miss some of the other wonderful works and I sincerely apologize for that. It doesn’t mean that the fic that i don’t include here is not good enough, it’s nothing but my unintentional mistake of having a limited memories.

Here are the list without any particular order:

eafay70: Finishing Other People’s Business - Nobody Breaks My Hart! - Once Upon a Time in Manchester City - Once Upon A Time There Was A … No, There Wasn’t! - || blindbatalex: show him the radishes, Luke - Kun Still Has No Idea Why - A Wild Fic Has Appeared || justkisa: What Can I Say, My Dear, To Catch Your Ear - A Secret Love of Baking - Whatever You Like - See You Tomorrow -  They Didn’t Have You Where I Come From  || gutiCorner of the Sea or: No More Love On The Run -  It’s Such a Complicated Life || lunasenzanotteConquest Of Paradise -  Peace To Your Wounds -  Cursum perficio (My Journey Ends Here) -  The History of Silvilla || mm_nanido you see it now? -  Hips for Keeps -  Lionel Messi’s Grand Seduction to get the English into Bed and Make Germans Fall in Love || sanseseYour Protector -  If I Believe You -  Closing Time || haxxaholicOf Fairy Boy, Sparkling Juice & Cobwebs -  Overprotective -  I go crazy because of you || pulisicsi didn’t mean to fall in love tonight -  okay, i ship it - purple  -  my daddy can beat up your daddy (wait why are our daddies kissing?) || prompt_fillsSay It in a Friendly Way -  Counting on New Disasters -  A Mirage That Falsely Gleams ||  pimpamA long time ago in a Skype chat far far away… || neyvenger (jjjat3am)calling at your doorstep -  keepsakes ||  ascienceit can only shift the stone ||  rachelweasleyno one else || satanic_horsemenButterflies and Hurricanes ||  lesbleusthroughandthroughThe meaning of what happiness is ||  hpdm4everThinking Out Loud

This is already a long list and I am pretty sure that there are a lot of other writings that I haven’t included yet.

Anyway, once again, I just want to express my appreciation to you, fanfiction writers, for being the amazingly talented people who have done so much, so much more than what you might think you have done.

Originally posted by myblueteam

What Happens Now

Pairings: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of one night stand, possible swearing

Word Count: 566

Summary: It was just one night, something that happened in the midst of too much alcohol. But what happens now? 

A/N: Okay, this is part 1 and I hope you guys all enjoy it. This is my first time writing RPF so please be gentle with me haha. Feedback welcome and appreciated. 

You’re fighting hard against the tears building up in your eyes, your fingers knotted into your hair as you pace the length of your trailer. You can feel your chest tighten and you know your only half a breath from breaking down completely, unsure how your going to make it through the next five minutes let alone a full day of grueling filming. Actually, considering the predicament you’ve some how found yourself in your holding it together much better than you would have expected, at least for now that is.

First call for hair and makeup is in less than twenty minutes and you know that unless you calm yourself down people are going to start asking questions; questions you’re not so sure on how to answer yet. Truthfully it all seems a little daunting having to go out there and talk to everyone like you hadn’t just found out the most life changing news ever a little over an hour ago.

Your head snaps around when you hear a light knocking on the door, your stomach clenching uncomfortably as you release the hold you have on your hair, walking the short distance and opening it up. Chris is waiting outside for you, a smile on his face and a takeaway coffee cup in his hand.
“H - hey,” You stutter, cursing under your breath when your voice comes out weaker than you’d hoped.
Chris eyes you for a second before handing you one of the coffee cups his holding; you can smell the caramel mixing with caffeine as the steam rises from the lip on the cup; it’s your favourite. You take a long whiff before sighing, holding the cup in your hands but not taking a drink; Chris raises one of his eyebrows.
“You okay?” He asks, genuine concern laced into his tone and you feel your resolve crack a little. You want to tell him, he’s one of your best friends after all but you have to work out what you’re going to do first, you have to know how this is going to play out before you tell anyone.

“Just didn’t get much sleep last night,” You say instead, shrugging your shoulder and hoping that it comes off as casual.
“That’s what the coffees for,” Chris says, pointing down to your cup. “Helps wake you up in the morning.”
His tone is light and playful, you know he is having a joke with you, but you can’t even smile.
“Not really that thirsty.”

Keep reading

Taron’s stopped talking about Colin.

It’s been nearly six years since they first walked on that set together and nearly six months since they had an actual face-to-face conversation.

Taron still trolls the Internet when he’s feeling bored enough—when he has no lines to memorize or interviews to rehearse—and looks through photos from nearly a different lifetime ago. He sees himself grinning widely, ducking his head, rubbing his hand on Colin’s shoulders, or simply staring as the man beside him talks. There’s even a few videos that document it all—every gaze, every glance, every gape—and one that even showcases the many times of Taron mentioning Colin Firth.

Kingsman is over. It had been a surprisingly successful trilogy, and he owes Matthew Vaughn so, so much for giving him a chance and inadvertently launching him into the spotlight. Taron has even gotten to the stage where he has to actually turn down parts. He feels terrible and finicky and snobbish every time, but Taron doesn’t want to play just a cardboard character. He wants to inhabit their body, slip into the flesh and blood and bone and mind, lift his head and look in the mirror and see someone different. Someone who tells a story.

The critics laud him, heap praise over how dedicated and successful he is, and parade him through articles and interviews that trumpet phrases like “rising star.”

But stars have to eventually die.

Some people miss “the old Taron.” The one who was so generous with his smiles and laughter. The one who smiled freely in public. The one who mentioned his mum and sister and mates and Colin Firth.

Privately, Taron thinks it all began when he took down his Twitter banner of his and Colin’s faces. It was from a photo shoot, and Taron recalls squirming on uncomfortably stiff seats and trying to make each other laugh, mostly with goofy antics and twisted facial expressions. He’d picked the funniest one, and kept those that didn’t make the cut, ones that make him look like the boy who lit up the room, but who only had eyes what looked like an ordinary older man.

He’d been warned. His mum called it “an infatuation,” and his father called it “a crush that will pass.” But Taron had instead listened to his heart, and told Colin.

What had followed was a solemn “I know” and a horror-struck shock that stopped his heart. Worse was the silence: the horrible, awkward tension that had been caused solely by him.

Taron had then laughed it off, claiming drunkenness, and proceeded to pretend for the rest of the night that he was sloshed out of his mind, more than he really was. The next morning, waking up on Colin’s couch, Taron slipped away and prayed Colin was too much of a gentleman to mention it ever again.

Colin had been, and Taron had moved on.

A young Welsh boy from a small village with an absurdly-long name falling for an older London gentleman with a wife and kids. It wouldn’t have worked, and it was completely impossible, considering their jobs. Everything about them was and always will be in the spotlight, a performance that both will have to hide or acknowledge. Either way was perilous, and even if Colin did feel the same way, it wouldn’t have ended happily for either of them.

Sometimes, Taron misses that hopeful young man, but most of the time, he’s glad that he’s gone.