#her insta is private but her post count suddenly went down

[joshoconnaissance]

ok i can't say it for sure but i'm almost certain that my evil ex best friend called off her engagement and good lord it feels like christmas day

[nickuwonu-blog]

two shots [z.k]

request: "can you write something about the reader and one of the boys getting walked in on?" (this part is really long so I'm cutting it up into two parts. smut and the anon’s request will be in the next one.)

word count: 2.1k

warning: underage drinking.

it had only been a month, but zion was going crazy.

their relationship lasted a good six months before it took a turn for the worst, ending in her leaving out of spite and zion's pride watching her walk out the door.

so they went a month without talking to one another. but seeing each other? that was a completely different story, let's just say the two of them were extremely grateful that social media was a commonly used thing now. every so often, zion would find himself  "accidentally" liking one of her pictures when he'd go lurking through her page. liking one of her photos from six weeks ago was most definitely not his best move.

but here she was, standing across the room from him with a guy he'd never seen before. this guy had curly hair, was tall, tan, and full of tequila (despite him only being eighteen). zion thought this mystery guy's outfit was basic and was surprised that (y/n) had left him for a guy who couldn't even properly dress himself.

it was edwin's birthday party today, and he just had to invite all of his friends to party with him at the prettymuch house, including (y/n) and her date for the night. the artificial lighting of the double 'beanz' signed sat on the walls as 'no more' had started to play from a stereo that had yet to be found.

zion let a sigh escape his lips as he leaned against the counter in the kitchen, the kitchen itself had been filled with alcohol and tipsy people tripping on one another. he watched as (y/n) and her date talked amongst one another and wished so badly he was the one up there with her.

"what do you look so sad for? i told you she was coming," edwin pulled zion out of his thoughts once he saw how miserable-looking his friend was. although edwin was drunk at his own birthday party, he felt the need to make sure everyone around him was okay before going back to enjoying himself, he wanted this night to go perfect.

"you didn't tell me she was bringing some dude with her," zion gestured to the two of them, wondering if they were actually together or if this was some twisted plot to make him jealous.

edwin sucked his teeth before walking over to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of hennessey. "who bought that?" zion question while raising a single brow, speaking that no one in the house was old enough to legally buy alcohol.

"fiffany," edwin replied as he reached up to the cupboard to grab a pair a shot glasses. finding two of them, he carefully placed them down on the counter then unscrewed the drink after toying with it for a few moments. he filled both of the mini glasses up to the brim before handing one to zion.

"after you take this shot, you're gonna waltz over there and get your girl back. okay?" edwin held his shot glass out in the air while he talked, waiting for zion to clink them together.

"i don't want her back," zion lied as a coping mechanism, "it's just weird seeing her after a whole month of ignoring each other."

edwin shook his head, "i don't know why you lie to me, it actually kinda hurts you think i'd believe that. like, you seemed happy when i told you she was coming; now she's here and all you wanna do is pout, you sensitive ass crybaby." it was obvious that edwin was drunk, he'd never say anything like this to someone as tall as zion when he was sober.

"you're so drunk right now," zion stated the obvious.

"as you should be. now, drink up, caleb!" edwin announced before clinking their glasses together and downing the shot in less than a second. he slammed the glass back down on the counter before yelling once again.

"extra as fuck," zion mumbled to himself before finally taking his own shot. he had drank before, so the feeling wasn't quite new to him. but, he didn't do it often so the burning feeling in his throat hit him as if it were the first time, causing him to slam his eyes shut in response.

"how do you feel?!" edwin playfully hit zion on his back.

"like pure shit," zion coughed while continuing to keep his eyes shut, "aka the fuckin' same." finally opening his eyes, he looked back over to (y/n). she had surprisingly been standing alone. if there was a time zion planned on talking to her, it was literally right now.

zion turned back to face edwin, his eyes suddenly filled with fear. "should i go say something?"

edwin poured himself another shot, "if you're feelin' bold enough then go for it."

thinking quick, zion grabbed the shot from edwin's hand and downed it before he even had the time to process exactly what he was about to do. "fuck you. just for that, i hope she doesn't even give you the time of day."

zion walked away, he was too focused on his future actions rather than dwelling on what his drunk friend had been saying to him. he was beyond nervous, a feeling that was absolutely foreign to him. overall, zion was a very bold person who didn't feel nervous or intimidated by anything or anyone. so the fact that he felt this way about a girl was enough for him to pass out from the feeling.

he kept his eyes on her the entire time, almost as if she'd vanish into thin air if he dared to look away. starting to feel the hennessey kicking in, he finally felt the courage to talk as he stood in front of her.

"i need to talk to you," zion started, his heartbeat increasing rapidly.

"you're here, talk." (y/n) replied, zion felt she was actually might be interested in what he had to say but tried not to get his hopes up only to be completely shut down. (y/n) was an unpredictable girl, so trying to map out what she's thinking about is nearly impossible.

"i mean in private. can we, like, go somewhere else?" if zion could cross his fingers without looking desperate, he would.

"zion, you ca--" she began talking but stopped once the tan boy from earlier came back with a drink in his hand. "gracias," she accepted the drink from him before turning back to zion. "zion, this is giovanny. he doesn't speak english."

she turned to giovanny, "seguir la corriente, por favor." (translation: "play along, please.")

"por qué le estás diciendo que no hablo inglés?" he replied, trying to figure out where the sudden need to lie came from. (translation: "why are you telling him i do not speak english?") although spanish was his first language, gio could speak english fluently.

"él tratará de hablar contigo, eso no puede suceder." she answered honestly, shedding a bit of light to him in this confusion situation. (translation: "he will try to talk to you, that can not happen.")

maybe it was the hennessey taking over his mind, or maybe he just really fucking missed (y/n), but for some reason, zion's only desire was to get her alone. completely alone. right now, he was confused as hell. he had no clue what the two of them were saying and quite frankly, he started to feel nervous again.

"creo que quiere hablar contigo," gio whispered to (y/n), "no yo." (translation: "i think he wants to talk to you, not me.") at this point, all gio really wanted to do, was go home. it's not like the two of them were actually dating, only friends who had romantic slip-ups sometimes.

"can you please just tell him i need to talk to you for, like, less than ten minutes?" zion asked, annoyed at the fact he had no idea what was happening.

(y/n) sighed, "volveré pronto," she said to gio before following zion upstairs. (translation: "i will be back soon.")

constantly going up to zion's room was something she missed doing; whether they were going to sleep or just chill together, it was always a good time. it almost felt like a regular day of dating zion, but that just wasn't reality anymore. at least not now.

(y/n) entered zion's room behind him and watched as he shut the door behind him while she plopped down on his bed, his sheets feeling the same as they were when she had last touched them.

"do you miss me? at all?" the question rolled off of zion's tongue before he even realized what he was saying. "fucking hennessey," he thought to himself, "got me all the way messed up."

"i should be the one asking you that," she shot back, "you got all these fangirls on you, i imagine it's hard not to get caught up in the moment." her eyes genuinely looked sad, and it killed zion to see her this way. the girl that was always smiling and kept her guard up was slowly unfolding himself before his very eyes.

"are you kidding? for the past month i've been losing my fucking mind, (y/n). i probably almost called you at least ten times a day." weirdly enough, he became frustrated for some reason. he and the whole world knew exactly how he felt about (y/n), yet the only person who didn't know was her.

"you should've," she replied honestly, "i would've liked to hear your voice. why didn't you?"

mentally, zion wasn't prepared for the question. so instead, he let the alcohol do the talking for him. "it'd be a lot easier to talk to you if you didn't have some guy up under your insta every single time you post a picture."

she scoffed, "oh, so you think i enjoy seeing random girls calling you daddy and telling him to fuck them? you think i like that shit?"

he knew she was mad at the fact he was being hypocritical as hell right now, but he had no clue as to what to say to make the situation better. the most irritating part of it all was that he knew there was something that needed to be said, he just couldn't figure out what that was.

"it's not like you enjoy being called daddy anyway, you light skinned dudes much rather preferred to be called papi," (y/n)'s bold statement took zion by surprise, causing a smirk to appear on his face.

"i don't think your boyfriend would be to happy with you talking about my sexual preferences."

(y/n) laughed, realizing she still hadn't told zion what was actually going on. "gio and i aren't dating. and, he actually does speak english by the way; i just wanted to mess with you." making room for zion on his own bed, she slid down until her back hit the headboard.

"so you guys are just friends?" zion questioned, sitting across from the girl.

she nodded, "just friends."

zion hummed, "y'all fucked?"

she wasn't exactly shocked by this, it was question zion wouldn't be afraid to ask. especially if he was feeling a little tipsy. but, she was feeling guilty. her and her "friend" had hooked up once or twice and originally had promised to only keep it between the two of them.

so she kept quiet, not wanting to lie to zion anymore, and hoped her silence was a way of answering his question. noticing what was going on, zion let a petty chuckle slip out of his mouth. he couldn't exactly be mad at her, or anyone, but the only thing he wanted to do is go downstairs and completely deck gio.

"i can bet money sex with me is way better than sex with him," zion barely knew what he was saying as he stole (y/n)'s drink from her hand and drank the small amount that was left in the red, plastic cup.

"alright then," she laughed while resting an elbow on one of his pillows.

"damn, you need a reminder or something?"

a/n: part 2 comin soon

also, i don’t speak spanish so i had to use google translate. if you can speak/read spanish let me know if my working is fucked up.

[howsmyhairlook]

Insta Shame and Beer Regrets

•A pillow covered my face. I was laying on my stomach, my head ached and my entire mouth tasted of stale beer, sandpaper tongue, and poor decisions. My body ached in a way that was familiar though distantly so. I searched my memory with a groan only to recall nothing that could excuse away the pain. I groaned at the effort thinking took and slowly moved my leg out to the other side of the bed, hoping...no...praying to the 750 thread count Egytian cotton gods that there was not another body next to me. Finding it to be empty, and cold, I felt safe enough to push the pillow off my head for a damage assessment.

Sunlight assaulted my eyes and I hadn’t even opened them yet. Shielding my hand in front of my face and cracking just one eye open enough to confirm I did not have a bed companion, I pulled the blankets over my head to end the vicious attack on my retinas before reaching blindly for my phone on the bedside table. At least drunk Levi was good enough to not lose it, he only needed to learn that lesson once.

With a swipe of my thumb over the screen, it opened and yet, again, I was hit with a bright light.• Rude. Siri, turn down the brightness, in a hurry, will you?

•Siri was used to my ridiculous demands, and immediately took care of my tender eye needs. When the screen was dim enough to not leave me feeling as though I was sitting through Lasik surgery, I opened my Insta to check on the follower engagement from the night before.

Reviewing my stories from the beginning of the slides, I briefly took note of the copious amount of dashes across the top of the first photo and was immediately suspicious. I never posted that much for a paid gig. Paid promotion got the standard four to five stories tops, anything more than that was an extra fee and the Knights did not opt for the elite package when we signed the contract. Fortunately, as I lifted my thumb off the screen to let the stories play, I saw a series of carefully curated images. Perfect hair, a smile that was well practiced albeit slightly crooked, fashionable, designer scruff. Hell, I even managed to make the borrowed hockey jersey look cute, a tough feat to be sure.

Excellent product placement that was just pretentious enough followed my on brand selfies. Interaction stats for each of those stories was at the usual level I had come to expect from my followers. I was pleased with the job I had done for the Knights, their private box seats had been promoted to the standards of Mr.Mhmm during the beginning of the hockey game. I’d earned my fee. Normally that would be where my stories would end. This was not the case. Dread and trepidation seeped out of my suddenly sweaty pores.

More images continued to play one after the other and I watched myself in abject HORROR as I was holding a clear plastic cup with pale amber liquid inside.•

Oh yes. That would explain the bitter taste of cabbage water and regret. Beer, Levi...what were you thinking. You know better. It causes bloating! Though, one does not say no to cute bartenders who keep refilling your cup, nor to the hot waitress who was carrying around a tray of shots. And one most definitely did not say no when the entire group was celebrating each goal scored. This pansexual who was an alcohol lightweight didn’t stand a chance. But, the bloating! Nothing good ever comes from beer on tap, your twenties were a testament to that.

•As if my stomach knew it was being spoken of, a horrible rumble sounded as the organ lurched enough to shake up my intestines.• Oh my Gucci, please tell me I am not about to have the beer shits. This is NOT on my list of things to do today.

•Slow breathing with carefully plotted thoughts quickly had the surge of disgusting leaving my mind and my body followed suit shortly thereafter. The same could not be said for my stories. They kept rolling like the stone that chased Indy in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Young Harrison Ford. Mhmm. Who didn’t have a crush on him?• What in sweet salvation have I done?!

•My eyes widened as I watched in holy terror the remainder of the night’s events unfold in true Instagram limited time posting glory. I had decided to become a hockey commentator?! In what world did I know anything about hockey? None. And yet...there I was in full tipsy status doing just that. My voice echoed from the phone speaker against the sheet that was still pulled over my head, leaving it sounding harsh to my ears.

“Here we are in the final…”

This drunk Levi story moved to the next and then the next in rapid embarrassing succession, I couldn’t look away from my own trainwreck.

“...Inning? Quarter? Period! That’s it, friends there are three.” And because I must have thought my followers were stupid, I held up three fingers and pushed them toward the camera to further drive home my newly acquired hockey knowledge.

“Unless of course there is a tie in which case there’s a mini period called-”

“-What did you say it was called again, oh yes, Overtime! This is all so very exciting!”

“Make sure when you come see the Knights play you get tickets in these boxes!”

“They come with cute boys and girls for all your drinking needs.”

“CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERS, BITCHES!” Bright red liquid in the mini glass splashed all over my borrowed jersey as it dribbled down my chin when I attempted to throw back the shot while filming myself.

“Oh!!! There was a fight! It was hot, they took off their helmets. MHMM.”

“Game’s over, but that doesn’t mean the night is done. Oh NO. We are headed out. Find us on the strip if you can!”

I had been on the strip. With the rest of the people from the hockey game. I had one of those yard long street margaritas! OFF THE STREET, LIKE A TOURIST! I was not a tourist. And yet, the stories said otherwise.

We even danced with the weirdos who dressed up and wanted money for their pictures. The remainder of the night had been chronicled for my personal mortification and plastered all over my page. I might as well have had a sex tape released for what this would do to my carefully curated image. This messy, sloppy Levi was not on brand, at all. It was the anti-Levi brand. I was going to lose all my sponsorships. Bye Bye Bye future contracts. Not even JT could bring my sexy credibility back. I was too afraid to check how many followers I had lost in the onslaught of the night’s extravaganza.

Panic surged through my body as I threw off the blankets, sunlight be damned and rushed to the bathroom before shoving my head into the bowl of the toilet so I could throw up my entire existence. When my stomach was completely empty and all that remained was regret along with some bitter bile on my lips, I rinsed out my mouth and returned to the refuge of my bed.

I needed to face the damage I had done.• Please. Please. PLEASE, let it be minimal.

•I swiped open my phone again, and tapped through to my profile then blinked. Five times to make sure the sun hadn’t damaged my vision. My followers had surged over night. My DMs...loaded, so many I didn’t even know where to begin with that mess.• How in the fresh breath hell did I not destroy my career?!?

•A closer inspection of my engagement statistics revealed the brutal truth, sloppy letting loose Levi was far more liked than the carefully manicured Levi from earlier in the night, not that earlier in the night was a bust as far as stats went.

I was speechless and a little insulted.

People did love a trainwreck and I had been the conductor of my very own derailment. I didn’t know what to make of the numbers, they were still hurting my feelings. I chanced an apprehensive look at the DMs.

SO MANY STORY REPLIES.

The Knight’s account had re-posted some of my earlier posts. That was good, normal even, but as I scrolled further, a common theme seemed to be developing from the messages. The people wanted more of the fun Levi. Cry laughing Emojis were paired with the Heart Eyes emojis...and a few eggplant water squirt emojis were in the mix, too. That helped tend to my bruised ego some.•

I can work with this. All is not lost and shit has not covered the entire fan, yet. •I needed a follow up series of stories. Something that showed I hadn’t lost my marbles and wasn’t the type to drunk dial an ex in a moment of weakness. Social media wasn’t meant to be wielded the way I had last night, but if I were to seize the opportunity for what it was, I could capitalize and get my professional train back on the tracks. It would bookend the 24 hour period with a smooth save. I needed to pull out one of my trademark posts. A hidden gem find my followers always lived for. They were loyal when I recommended things on a non-sponsored post.

Time could not be wasted here, people were fickle and moved on faster than Britney shaved her head. I needed to get my ass out of the bed and back down to the strip...wait...no I would absolutely not be returning to the scene of my crimes. However, Fremont Street would be the perfect counterbalance to my night of WTF. If the masses wanted to see Tourist Levi doing touristy things, Fremont would do just that for them.

I could find some greasy food, something local, not franchise operated and show the people I could keep up with the demand I had inadvertently created while drunk. It was an excellent damage control plan. But first. I desperately needed a shower, because fuck if I was going to go out looking and smelling like a walk of shame, I had the image and standards of Mr. Mhmm to still maintain.•