Request: “hey would you be doing requests by any chance?? If so, would you please be able to write a Simon one based off the song ‘I Know What You Did Last Summer’ - Shawn Mendes ft. Camilla Cabello. So basically the reader has been on a holiday recently and Simon has a feeling/thinks she’s cheated & there’s tension, endings up to you. I love your writing so much!! Thank you xxxx”
Note: This did not turn out the way I expected it to at all. Whelp. You brought this upon yourselves lol. 2950 words. [master list]
I’m kind of a vintage tee junky but I don’t like the search! My good friend george loves the search lol and finds literally the best ones..I almost hate to share but his site is finally up! go check it out @creepandhound and don’t take all the good shit!!
It was a dare. To go in the library. It’ll be fuckin funny as shit, he said. Who the fuck goes in a library anymore? We got the fuckin Internet for papers we gotta write for if we wanna stay on the team, and if worse comes to worse, we can just headlock one of the fuckin smart kids into doin it. Fuckin pay em, if we have to, right? Whatever. So what the fuck do we need a library for?
Yeah, they were a little drunk. A little pumped. It was a fuckin grate gym session that day. Mad pumps, chest, arms, back. Could still feel the muscles itching, aching for more, more pump, more lift, more, fuckin, more! Their grins twitched at the corner of their mouths every now and again, remembering the epic pump. The selfies in the bathroom after. Laughing, boasting, joking around with funny fuckin dick jokes or whatever. The conversation eased into casual talk about the evening ahead, what they wanted to do before the football game was on TV. Kevin was already shrugging on his jersey. He was just a little bit more obsessed with football than Colin, but he didn’t care. He got a lot of jokes, but he didn’t care. They accepted it. They each had their thing. Everyone’s got their thing. Keith was the jersey guy. Colin was the style guy. Fuckin sneakers, boots. He was always tryin out new shit, new haircuts, new hats and watches - as long as it showed off his muscles. Gotta show off the muscles. The blue polo shirt he wore threatened to tear at the cuff, bulging over his biceps as it did. He immediately commanded the attention of the room he walked into. Eyes swung in his direction.
They weren’t the brightest bros. Most people thought of em as harmless. Most people didn’t give em a second thought after the initial glance at their bodies, figuring there was nothing within but gym, gym, sports, and more gym. But most looked at them with jealousy. They skated by on Cs in class, mostly so they could keep their place on the football team. Always accompanied with a protein shake bottle. A gallon of water. A gym bag. Everywhere.
Kevin was always daring Colin to do stupid shit, and Colin was always up for it. Why the fuck not? was his motto. It’ll be fuckin hilarious. So yeah, he went in the library. It was fuckin weird in there. Like someone had thrown a blanket over the place. Muffled silence. The tap of shoes on carpet. The rustle of paper. It made him want to blow a whistle and run into the nearest stack of …
Books. Everywhere. Fuckin everywhere. How many trees did that take? Tell me to fuckin recycle and all these books? What the … everywhere! Well, yeah, dumbass, it’s a library. People still read? Weird. He chuckled to himself and kept walking. He’d have to grab a book to prove to Kevin that he did it. He had an idea. He walked further down, through some aisle of more books and stopped at the end, and turned around. The lights above pulsed slightly, and he felt himself hit with a small seism of dizziness. Fuck, he thought. Maybe I’m a little drunker than I thought. He blinked, squeezed his eyes shut and open a few times. His head kinda pounded. He -
Remembered. Like a scream travelling down a tunnel, he remembered. He hadn’t always - he wasn’t who he thought he - there was a whole other life behind him - he used to read? - he didn’t have any fucking muscles? - what the fuck?? - he was standing in front of a mirror, his concave, pasty chest, his glasses, his spindly arms, his hilarious t-shirt with some nerd saying, something smart - ow, ow, fuck … It was like being stabbed in the brain. Like a movie that just wouldn’t end, he continued to experience frame after frame of another life that he knew had once been his own, somehow …
“Bro?” Colin turns around. Kevin stands there, frowning. “Shit, that wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“What … the … fuck just happened?” Colin is out of breath. Continues to reel, as if punched.
“Well … guess goin in a library ain’t such a good idea bro.” Kevin laughs a little. “It’s OK. You won’t remember it. Didn’t know that comin’ in here would bring it all back …”
“That’s me! Who the fuck am I!”
“Whoever I want ya to be, bro!” Kevin swings an arm around Colin’s trembling, albeit massive shoulders. “Cmon. Come on back to me, bro. Come on back to me. Let’s get the fuck out of here, huh?”
Colin is too dizzy to fight his older, slightly stronger friend. He is tripping, he must be fuckin tripping. His friend has him by the arm, is dragging him towards the door. The librarian at the desk is looking at them strangely. “Everything all right?”
“Yah,” Kevin says, laughing. “But my bro just fuckin yarked up a big mess all over your books!” He’s kicking the door open. “Guess we were all excited bout the big game on TV tonight and got a little drunk. Dunno what the fuck we were doin in the library…” But the librarian had already gotten up from her chair and was running towards where they had come from.
Colin blinked. Looked at his bro. “What the fuck, bro?”
“Sup? Hey, cmon, we gotta get goin. Kickoff in 15 minutes, bro.”
“Right. Uh … “
Wasn’t there something? Wasn’t there - a memory, a … a whisper of something - was he forgetting something he was supposed to remember? Whatever. Fuck it. The game’s more important. “Nah. Let’s fuckin go, dipshit.”
Colin’s grin. Kevin’s grin. A headlock, knuckles on the head. Swearing, mock shoving. A brief wrestle on the grass. The sounds of their dumbass laughter rising into the air and fading with their passage. Somewhere faintly, the high, silver sound of a whistle.
Magnus yawned and rolled out of bed, tripping over his own two feet towards the faint sound of Alec’s voice, coming from outside the door.
He smiled and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Where Alec was, coffee was sure to be found.
After running a hand through his sleep mussed hair, he stepped into the main room of his loft, and froze.
The room was full of Shadowhunters; they sat rigidly on the sofa, leaned against the wall, fiddled with the weapons at their belts and glared at him with thinly veiled annoyance.
He leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly aware of his ridiculous outfit.
There was a difference, Magnus thought, between eccentric, exotic fashion and…. and this.
But who could judge him for sleeping in batman boxers and a hilarious and prideful t-shirt?
Magnus tried to act unconcerned and sought out a familiar pair of blue eyes. He smiled.
Alec was leaning on a counter by the coffee machine, his skin pale against the black material of his gear. He was staring at Magnus, mouth hanging open, his cheeks flushed adorably.
Magnus cleared his throat, and the Shadowhunters fell silent, watching him expectantly.
“Alexander?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “You didn’t tell me we had company.”
He grinned at the gathered Shadowhunters and waved a lazy hand. “Hello,”
A few greetings came from the crowd, and Alec made a strangled noise and stood up straight.
He not so subtly looked from Magnus’s face to his shirt, then boxers, with questioning eyes, as if Magnus were unaware of the outfit.
Magnus bit at his lip as Alec’s wide eyes lingered on him, knowing that, when they were alone, Alec’s reaction to his current state would be different.
Maryse’s eyes flickered between them, and she cleared her throat.
“Magnus Bane,” she began, getting up from the chair she had been sitting in and straightening her weapons belt. “There has been a…” Her eyes drifted off to a Shadowhunter sulking in a corner, who looked determined to not acknowledge her. “Situation. There was a problem encountered during a raid.”
She looked angry, as if it belittled her to even tell him of this.
Magnus nodded in mock enthusiasm, and Maryse went on, frowning.
“We require your particularly renowned skills. You are to summon four certain lower demons, and you will be provided with their teeth or nails to do so.”
When Magnus said nothing, she went on. “You will, of course, be fairly compensated.”
“Sure,” Magnus said, “but why are you all here? Not that I don’t enjoy the company, but you shouldn’t need almost every Shadowhunter available to come to my loft.”
“Every person here is essential to interrogate the demons.” Maryse said flatly.
Magnus’s patience was fraying, and he had to force himself to stay pleasant. “I need to actually summon them first. I’ll be sure to let Alexander know when they’re ready.”
He flashed a grin at Alec, who looked as if he may die of embarrassment.
Maryse stepped forward and handed Magnus a bag that, supposedly, contained parts of demons that he wasn’t extremely excited to use.
“I’ll be bringing a contract to officiate this agreement when everything is prepared.”
Magnus smiled brightly and snapped his fingers, making the door to the stairs fly open and bang against the wall. “Excellent.” He said, and tapped his foot impatiently as all the Shadowhunters, taking the hint, slowly left.
All but one.
Alec was watching him, a quiet, teasing smile playing on his lips. He unbuckled his weapons belt and let it drop to the floor, and Magnus tried to ignore the jump in his pulse as Alec walked towards him.
“That was a wonderful surprise…” Magnus started to say, but trailed off at the mischievous glint in Alec’s eyes.
Alec’s fingers found the waistband of Magnus’s ridiculous boxers, brushed the warm skin under his amusing shirt, and he pulled him in for a kiss, a quick brush of soft, eager lips. “Hey.”
Holy Sh*t Hilary Duff and Ed Sheeran Are Recording a Song Together!
See the Instagram Proof…#BringBackHilaryDuff
It’s been 11 (!!) years since HDuff released her last album, so we’re stoked to hear she’s returning to the recording studio. If you grew up with Lizzie McGuire you’ve probably watched Hilary’s fashion transformation. Today, her street style is killer.