#someone else who made a similar line mix-up to me was like 'hey you had been before me. you can go ahead!'

[singinrevelry]

I would like to wish everyone as pleasant an experience as I just had at the dmv

[ihatedtoadmit]

The Windows To My Soul [4]

pairing: OT8 x fem! reader

genre: soulmates, fluff, crack

warnings: Please read the 'Summary' of this series, all are listed there!

word count: ~2.0k

summary: The conversation feels as natural as if you were talking with your old time friends, something that strikes you odd amidst all the fun you have.

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All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

A chaotic mix of shouting was all I had gotten as a warning before I was sandwiched between two bodies, my own becoming only more rigid in response.

"Eh, wh–" "Why didn't you say you were a fan?! I mean you did just explain, but still!" - Felix complained from my shoulder, looking up at me with big, shining eyes.

Jeongin was probably mumbling something similar into the hoodie on my back, but I couldn't confirm as he’d said it in korean.

Looking around, I could see excitement on everyone else's faces, some of them almost joining the Jeonglix sandwich, were the others not holding them back.

"I-, you're not mad?" - I squeaked out, eyes meeting Chan's for any form of confirmation. "Why would we be? Sure, it wasn't cool you lied, but I get why ya did it. Thank you by the way, it's really cute, but we love meeting with our fans. So don't worry about it, 'kay?" - he spoke back, amusement swimming in his eyes.

I stared back at him, my eyes sweeping over the others before they looked down at the ground.

"Hey, you okay?" "Honestly? Naur, Felix. I almost got kidnapped in a foreign country, just because I wanted to see a live performance of the idols I adore and look up to. But by some miracle the aussies of that same idol group saved me, and now I am in the presence of the whole band, being hugged by two members, wearing Hyunjin's sweater and I'm about to fucking cry."

Based on their astonished looks, I said that out loud, didn't I?

God damn it.

"You weren't supposed to hear that, naauurr-" - I said, burying my face into my working hand out of embarrassment, hidden skin probably already heating up. "That's it, lemme go!" -Changbin shouted before he leapt at me, tearing me out of my cuddle sandwich and hugging me tightly.

It was a bit awkward with the height difference, but he made it work by lifting me up, something that both surprised me and didn’t at the same time. Jisung joined in quickly after I was put down onto the ground properly, soon joined by Hyunjin and Chan as well. The two who didn't like hugs that much just watched in amusement, one acting as if he was eating popcorn. That damned puppy. Although Jeongin not being in their distance keeping group did catch me by surprise, to say the least.

"Hey, Changbin hyung, give her back!" - Felix complained after everyone gave me some space to breathe. "No!" "Hyuuung!" "No, now my turn!"

What the…

Were they actually arguing about who would cuddle me?

What in the wattpad fanfiction was this bullcrap again???

Having had more than enough hugs from strangers -even if they were idols i adored, it was still a bit uncomfortable for me-, I straightened up and looked down at the boys.

"Wouldn't I be the one cuddling someone anyway?"

At the confused looks I’d gotten, I gestured between their heights and mine, my hand going from the top of my head to theirs to signify the difference.

"Did you just call us short?" "Nah, I didn't call everyone short. Hyunjin's at eye level, see?" - he snorted at my comment, saying something along the lines of 'I like her'.

Changbin, however, didn't appreciate it as much. Before he could catch me, I started running away while muttering out a curse under my breath, running around the couch until I got cornered by Chan and Jisung.

"I'm so sorry short kings-, I mean, fuck, uuhh…" "Yah, you little-"

And with that, I got tickled until I could barely breathe, not even my pathetic pleas for help could leave my lips at that point.

Valid punishment to be honest, seeing as my left arm was still unusable and hurt.

"My bad mate, I won't try to be funny ever again." - I panted out as I laid on the floor, earning a few laughs in return. "  Gasp  Aussieee~" - my choice of words caused Hyunjin to overly dramatically sing as he looked at me over the back of the couch, doing a little wave with his fingers. "Yeah, you can thank Chan and STAY for that. I consumed way too many fan videos. Okay, thank Felix too." - I laughed airily, watching as Chan stared at me with a surprised and embarrassed expression. "That's so cute." - Felix muttered before saying some other sentences in korean, the whole group erupting in chaos.

I had not a fucking clue what they were saying.

But they could get really loud, jesus fuck. I pursed my lips in discomfort, thankful that they couldn't see from my position and concealing mask.

"Oh yeah, how come you have a mask on?" - Jisung suddenly asked, now peering over the couch right down at me. "Ah, well… I felt really out of place in a room full of pretty and handsome men." - I muttered out, hoping they didn't hear it, too late to stop the words leaving my mouth.

They did hear it.

Oh boy, did they hear it.

I just rolled over onto my stomach, hiding my face into the floor as I could hear chaos unfold, worsening my splitting headache.

Why the fuck was I so stupid? I hated that I had no filter over my mouth half the time. Or all the time, for that matter.

After a minute of laughter -or more, i had no way to measure my wallowing-, I heard my name being uttered amidst bouts of laughter. Or something like that, it was hard to hear over my inner voice crying and bashing its head into an imaginary wall. 

I simply put my hands over my head, covering it. Well, only one, the other still sporting the restricting, yet soothing ice pack. But the man didn't give up so easily, calling me a few more times and even shaking me to get a response.

"Naur, I'm not here. I'm part of the floor now." - I muttered out, voice muffled as I showed a little peace sign. "Ahw, come on, it wasn't so bad." "I am pretty sure it was, Chris. I just bombed my reputation. That's pretty darn bad." "Oh, so we're switching names now, I see."

I gave him no reply in hopes of him dropping the subject, and also because I was too busy trying to fuse with the wooden panels beneath me. Maybe I would become a freaky Junji Ito manga character, like the snail one. A shiver ran down my spine, the manga panel showing the mentioned abomination immediately popping into my mind in great detail.

"Well, ya leave me no choice then."

Wait wh–

I only felt arms circling my middle, hauling my body up as if I was just a mere sack of potatoes. He even swung me over his shoulder and I could only blink at the ground I was forced to face, processing it all. But before that could even fully happen, he plopped back down into his seat, not even releasing me.

No, this man just casually put me into his lap and started cuddling me.

I stared at him incredulously, eyes wide and brows furrowed. He merely giggled, answering the boys in korean. Because through it all, they of course shouted and yelled. At Chan. For his very questionable actions. Teasingly, based on some of their tones and expressions.

"Sir, what in the actual fuck?" "Hey, language!" "Well, pardon my french, Sir, but nani the fuck?!" "C’mon, the floor must have been cold and uncomfortable." - he chuckled, cheeky dimples fully on display.

I definitely wasn't distracted by them for a few seconds too long.

"Well yea, but still…" - I muttered, tearing my eyes away quickly before I got caught and teased again, something I surely didn’t have the strength for anymore.

"But isn't the mask uncomfortable?" - Felix wasn’t far behind to revive the trailing off conversation, quickly changing the topic for no reason at all. "Oh, so we're just gonna ignore this five year old cuddling me all of a sudden. Okay. I see. Also no, it's fine."

They giggled at my reference, Chan enjoying it the most, even squeezing my sides a bit.

Goddamn, this man was gonna be the death of me.

"Come on, take it off. I bet you're cute!" - ever the rizzmaster 5000 added in. "I uh… what now?" "Surely you must look fine under that mask. C’mon Eevee!" "Felix my boy, you too?" "Come ooonnnn!! We wanna see your cute lil face!" "P-pardon?"

The fact that Chan just watched this all unfold, his head propped up on my shoulder carefully did NOT fucking help, along with the amusement in everyone else'’s eyes who decided to quietly watch everything happen.

"I… I mean, I'm not ugly by normal standards, I guess, but guys… You're idols, everyone feels at least a lil bit uglier in your presence. But if you wanna see my face that bad, to like, I dunno, make sure I'm not some famous criminal, I can take it off?" - my voice trailed off in a questioning tone at the end, really not knowing what to do with their wrong assumptions about me. "Hey, we don't think that. You don't have to take it off if you don't want to." - Chan's reassuring murmur reached my ears, slightly calming my apparently racing pulse as Seungmin agreed with him, nodding along silently.

Today was a really bad cardio day for my heart it seemed, the sound of my racing heart nearly constant all night.

I slightly nodded back in thanks, grateful that they didn't want to push me. It wasn't like I lied about my reason, of course not, but it made me so needlessly anxious to be in their presence, not completely anonymous anymore.

Stupid brain.

"So, who's your bias?" - leave it to Seungmin to ask chaotic shit right after acting cute and understanding.

I blinked at him, his nearby form blinking back at me with an ever so slowly growing shit-eating grin.

"Y-...you can't just ask that, what the fuck?"

At the little jab in my side, I glanced at a not so happy Chan. Oh, I cursed again. I quickly apologised in a hushed tone, making a mental note to try and tone it down. Well, as best as I could, because I swore like a damn sailor.

Of course, in the meantime, hell broke loose and now everyone was on the edge of their seats, urging me to answer. Even Minho was amidst their midst, that sly bastard.

Glancing back at Chan again, I realised I would not get any help from him, not the first time I’ve come to that realisation that night. His eyes were alight in anticipation and curiosity, forcing me to tear my gaze away in dismay.

"Naur, I won't answer that! Apparently I could act unbiased so far, and I want to keep that up." - I adamantly said, hardening my gaze in determination.

This earned a few rightfully raised eyebrows, some pointing at Chan behind me, but this only earned them my own raised eyebrow in return.

"The man’s literally cuddling me. I have no part in this, I'm the victim over here my man." "Well you didn't try to escape him either." - Jisung added in, pointing out something important. "Dude…" "What?" "You expect me, a weak and injured person to somehow overpower a member of the Gymracha? You okay?"

My response got them to laugh again as I just continued to stare at the now tearing up quokka, one of his arms continuously hitting the pillow underneath him.

He really did have a heart-shaped smile.

Catching myself staring -something i had a feeling i would accidentally keep doing-, I tore my gaze away and looked at anywhere else. It somehow landed on my injured arm, the gradient of the purples and blues in my bruise intriguing me, the blending of colours fascinating.

It was beautiful, in its own, morbid way.

"Oh, right, we need to change your ice pack. I'll be right back." - Chan quickly said, sliding me into his place as he walked away.

I watched his retreating form, letting out a small, silent sigh.

Why did they go to such great lengths to help me?

Next chapter

Taglist: @skzstaykatsy @vampcharxter

[milokissa707]

Don’t think or Talk about it

Is this vent? Is this an info post? I don’t really know. 

Hey cousins just out here to remind you. You have the right to be mad, at America(USA+Canada), at England, at France, at Spain, at the church, and others, and the goddamn traders who sell out our identity for a profit to make it in the European world. You have the right to feel all that generational pain, whatever that is to you and for you. Because I’m sorry if you think colonialism ended with the settlement of the Atakapas territory by the Acadians, it stop with the genocides and slavery, it stopped with the selling of the Louisiana territory, it stopped with a civil rights act or the end of Jim Crow, or when the laws were overturned about being able to speak our languages in schools and in public. Because if you think it stopped, I’m so sorry to tell you it hasn’t. 

It is painful to me, sad and painful, that so many people believe a lie sold to them about their own group, about their own people. The separation of the Cajun and Creole identity, to the people that say that Cajun are white(nothing else don’t look into it), and that Louisiana creoles are black or mixed(ignore the fact that thousands of white folk before the Jim Crow era had called themselves Louisiana Creole, including top brass government officials, even during the Civil War). No, you’re never supposed to talk about the fact that many Cajun families have some really bad internalized racism from being assimilated into whiteness (believing that this was the only way to make it, so if they gave up their traditions, and looked a certain way, they would be more palatable to the rest of the world), and to make sure that the rest of the family never does acknowledge the fact that somewhere along the line someone was mixed in the family, treated like a shameful secret never to be said, the ones who speak up are pushed to the side lines or worse actively shunned. Never acknowledged the black or indigenous folks who call themselves cajun, only to be met with racism by their fellow people. Never acknowledge that we live on stolen land of people in every day life we call friends, brothers and sisters, family, coworkers, lovers, or cousins, never to acknowledge how they were forcibly made to move to make way for someone else and how so many were never able to come back. Don’t ever talk about how other ethnic groups besides Germans, Italians, and Irish contributed to our culture. No, do not talk about the Arabs and other Africans that moved here, Eastern and Central Europeans that contributed to New Orleans (look up the people who designed that cathedral), the Jewish people that came here looking for safety but only to find hate here, the Filipinos who moved over from Spanish colonized Philippines, or how many Asian and Pacific Americans that came here after America’s constant wars in their land, and even never to acknowledge the existence of the Roma presence within our communities. Nope, it’s just that Cajun are white and creole are black or mixed, don’t think about it too much lol, it’s not that complicated.

Alongside this, don’t ever acknowledge the fact that the struggles we see in our people are seen across the world wide. Never acknowledge the fact that we have so much in common with so many other Latin American or Caribbean cultures. Never to acknowledge our community similar struggles, no instead of being part of this international community we must stay alone or play into European ideals. We are Americans, aren’t we? We don’t want to give them another reason to other us more or worst yet think we’re not like them. So we stay alone, not to acknowledge the struggles of the Caribbean and Latin America countries and cultures, never to acknowledge the struggle and similarities to other creole people across the world. Because why would we want to give the Americans another reason to think that we’re different from them.

Never acknowledge how the same people who mock us, who line the pockets of our politicians that do nothing for us, have polluted our environment, our Bayous, and our waterways that we have lived in for generations, that we use for water and food, our way of life for so long, for so many people. The same people who are doing a genocide in Palestine,or are using child slave labor in the Congo, who have denied climate change and have only made it worse, and so so much more that I can’t even begin to talk about the are the same people capitalize on our culture and only hurt us. Cultural and corporate colonialism, just like ever from of colonialism before hand has only hurt us. We have the right to take about this. The colonialism has never stopped.

But we don’t, we don’t have to go along with this lie. Are culture is at a tipping point now, and we should use this opportunity for the better! We are always stronger together rather than apart. That’s why I do honestly believe in an international creole movement, not only to uplift our own communities, but others as well. To help communicate ideas, problems, and solutions to the problems are communities face. A good example of this would be climate change, as many creoles live on islands and water ways, our way of living is at direct threat for climate change.

I guess what I’m trying say by all of this is despite what people may make it out to be we are not alone in our struggle, not by a long shot.

[darkstarofchaos]

Alien Breeding Experiment? (Sending on anon because I can’t send from my nsfw alt—I wrote half a Quint Breeding Fic and posted it to enthusiasticinformedfragging because I gave up on writing it, so that title definitely intrigues me…)

Alien Breeding Experiment can be summed up as "A bunch of TFs are abducted by alien conservationists who have decide Cybertronians are endangered and they need to save the species".

The inspiration comes from a novel I read as a teen (The Cage by Megan Shepard) and the TF fic, The Mechanoid Preserve by Fianna9 and gatekat. In the former, a group of teenagers are taken by aliens for a zoo, and the latter has a premise fairly similar to mine, from what I remember (full disclosure, the fic lost me halfway through). One of the points I've taken from The Cage is the idea that the aliens are telepathic and don't consider non-telepathic races sentient, but unlike The Cage, there's also a language barrier. And no cross-species romance. The Mechanoid Preserve, as far as I remember, has no real similarity to mine apart from the concept and a couple main characters.

Anyway, the main plotline in my story follows a mixed group of Autobots and Decepticons as they figure out what's going on and try to communicate with or escape from their captors. The aliens don't actually know how Cybertronians reproduce (hence the "experiment" part), so they're trying to pair off the captives by frametype. Which is fine for pairs like Prowl and Bluestreak or Starscream and Thundercracker, but not so much for cross-faction pairs like Optimus and Motormaster.

Meanwhile, the Autobots and Decepticons are trying to find their missing bots, but things aren't moving fast enough for Skywarp and the Stunticons who weren't captured, so they abduct Skyfire and set off to find their missing teammates themselves. Shenannigans ensue.

A lot of my stories are in a rough drafted state, but this is one I have a semi-complete first chapter for. Snippet under the cut:

A muffled crash sounded from somewhere nearby. Prowl jumped, uncurling enough to stare around himself once more. Nothing had changed inside his prison. Whatever - or whoever - had made that noise must have been outside. Was it at all possible that the Autobots had come for him?

Yes. Of course it was possible. But with no other sounds to suggest a battle, it grew less likely by the second. Prowl couldn’t help checking his comms, though, praying that they hadn’t been disabled.

They responded immediately, as though nothing was wrong. He choked back a sob of relief and ran a scan for active frequencies, not caring who they belonged to. Autobots, humans, it didn’t matter as long as he got out of here.

He found one. A deep, stern voice came over the connection, and Prowl shuddered as a wave of hot shame joined his nausea.

::-no time for senseless violence,:: Optimus was saying.

::I think this is the perfect time for violence,:: a different voice snarled. Not an Autobot. Motormaster. Prowl hadn’t even noticed he’d landed on a universal frequency, though given the circumstances, a Decepticon on an Autobot frequency might have been the least of his worries.

Optimus started to say something else, but Blaster’s voice interrupted. ::Hold that thought, Prime. We have another caller on the line.:: A momentary pause followed his words, then he added, ::Hey, Prowl. You with us?::

“I… Yes. I’m here,” Prowl managed. His words were edged with static, possibly from whatever had knocked him out. Hopefully it concealed the worst of his distress. He sat up slowly, fighting to compose himself, and asked, “What’s happening?”

::That’s an excellent question.:: Starscream’s voice was tight and angry. But he barely finished his sentence before yet another bot chimed in.

::It was aliens!:: Red Alert said. ::Someone came and took us right off the battlefield!::

::Will you shut up about aliens?:: Motormaster snapped.

Optimus sighed, the sound almost an impatient growl. ::Prowl. What’s the last thing you remember?::

That was not a question Prowl wanted to answer, even for himself. But he cast his thoughts back, sifting through hazy, corrupted memory files. “There was a battle,” he said slowly. “We were protecting… some human thing?”

::Speak for yourself,:: Starscream muttered. Optimus sighed again. ::What else?::

“That’s everything,” Prowl admitted. “Prime… What’s going on?”

::That’s what we’re trying to figure out,:: Optimus said. He sounded disappointed, and Prowl’s tanks gave another unpleasant lurch. He hated that tone.

[joshslater]

Dionysus

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I was very hesitant when he picked me up at the nightclub. I could feel the disappointment and outright hostility from all the women and a lot of the men as the God walked up to me, started to make out, and then asked if I was up for some fun. That's what you get away with when no one ever says "no" I thought. With his incredibly handsome face, black hair, and athletic build that was probably not a word he was used to hearing. It would be impossible for him to know I was into guys, and coming on so strong could land you in hot water or rather knocked cold on the floor. Turns out he could know, and there was more to him than just utter handsomeness and unparalleled confidence. Way more.

It was back at his place he asked me if I could look like someone else, who would I pick? That's a game I've played many times before, so I instantly knew to answer Marco Albieri, the soccer player. He raised an eyebrow, took a step from me, and asked me why. "I don't know what it is about soccer players, but something about the game makes their bodies stunningly handsome. And Marco is just a step above the rest." He smiled a bright smile, made a dramatic gesture, and I was Marco. Looked exactly like him at least. It took me a moment to even realize what had just happened, but I could see myself in the full-length mirror. Or I couldn't, I should say. I saw Marco Albieri in full Paris Saint-Germain F.C. game kit. Mesmerized I took a step closer to the mirror, and Marco on the other side of the glass stepped closer as well. I looked just like him, my wettest, wankiest dream. I'd come so many times to exactly this fantasy. There was even a sheen of post-game sweat making all the skin glistening in his hallway designer lights.

He approached me from behind, still handsome but now by a much narrower margin. "You ready to fuck?" I didn't even answer but just turned around and kissed him. He wasn't shy in grouping me back. What followed was the longest fuck fest I've ever been part of. We went from room to room. It was like this body had limitless stamina, though it was the body of Marco after all, but an insatiable horny lust as well. Perhaps he had that too. It wasn't until early morning I fell asleep next to him, exhausted.

It was almost noon when I woke up, disoriented by everything. It was like it wasn't until now the craziness and impossibility of last night hit me. I could see Marco Albieri in the mirror at the other side of the bedroom, without shirt, and the most unkempt hair I had ever seen him with. I knew for a fact the secret hairstyling trick was body fluids. I suddenly felt very uneasy and exposed. Vulnerable even. I was here on vacation. How could I leave if I didn't look like my passport? How could I leave this building looking like Marco? There would be fans stopping me instantly. What the fuck am I thinking about? I'm erased from the world. No one I know, no one in my family would recognize me. Could I convince them I'm me and not a millionaire soccer player? Perhaps. But my life would be so complicated.

That's when he lazily strolled into the bedroom, completely naked showing off his chiseled body, one mug in each hand.

"You did this! How the fuck did you do this? You can't leave me like this!" "Morning!"

He handed me one of the mugs. On reflex I took a large sip of coffee only to discover it was red wine. It took me by surprise and I almost sprayed his white sheets with red mist of wine, but instead got some down my lungs and started to cough.

"Is this really the best you can think of?" he said. At first I had no idea what he meant. Then, still coughing, I realized it was my body again. The one I used to fly here, check into the hotel, and go out to nightclubs with.

"I... It's awfully inconvenient if I tried to leave with a different body." "That's it? That's the only reason?"

I felt stupid and unsure what to say. I liked my body, so why was it so hard to defend it? He took a large sip from his coffee mug of wine and climbed into bed next to me, but standing on his knees looking down on me.

"When's your flight back?" "Eh, in... On Sunday." "Plenty of time to let loose. How about going to the beach like this?"

This time I noticed the shift. The bed sagged down a bit under the extra load and I didn't even have to look in the mirror to see the freakish muscles. Two huge chest muscles peeked into my field of vision, and moving my arm I could see it was thicker than what my legs used to be.

I felt light-headed as we walked down to the beach. Probably the wine. He was subtle and classy, black Nike sneakers, black boardshorts, and a white T-shirt. I was anything but subtle. Probably twice his mass, annoying flip flops that flipped and flopped every step, white compression shorts that looked blindingly bright against my deep tan, a purple thong that peeked up over the rim of the shorts by the hips, visible because the neon yellow tank top was cropped above the belly button to show off the abs. The stringer waved for every step as my obscene pecs push out the yellow fabric like a hanging flag. It touched my body in surprisingly few places. Top of the traps and the nipples more or less.

After spending a few hours getting everyone passing by on the beach to turn their heads to observe the freak show he asked me to play floatation device for him. We went out in the water and did our best to have sex just outside where the waves broke. I think anyone who paid close attention could tell what we did, but no one could be really sure. He didn't appear to care.

"I made you something," he whispered. "What?" "A surfer," he said and begun walking towards the beach. As I wiped my long hair out of my face I understood he changed me again. No more shaved head, no more enormous meat slab. I still had a six-pack, I was still 6'-something, and my skin was deeply tanned, but that's about where the similarities ended. "Why?" I asked as I lied down on the beach towel next to his. "First dive bar opens soon, and I thought this would play better to the crowd." I was feeling woozy. "We want to play to the crowd?" He reached over and squeezed the pec closest to him. "Well, make them jealous at least."

There was something nagging at the edge of my thoughts. Some question I felt I needed to ask. I just couldn't quite put it into coherent thought.

"Did you drug me?" He made a high-pitched "Mmmm" sound. "Just a bit. To fit with the rest. Just go with it."

I shut my eyes, relaxed, and let his hand stroke me. I don't know how long we lied like that. Not too long, because the sun hadn't moved that much, but I sure did dozed off.

"Come on!" he said, like it was asking me to hurry up for the third time. A bit confused I got up from the beach towel. I wore a pair of eye-popping turquoise board shorts with black pattern and trim. Neon turquoise, if such a color was a thing. I knew it had a real trade name, but somehow it kept slipping my mind. They had a good fit, not loose, not tight, but rode low on my lithe body. Fuzzy pubes peeked out over the waistband, like a little forest edge where the treasure trail from the belly button ended. I looked around for a shirt or something to put on, but there was nothing except for a pair of flip-flops. These didn't look as cheap and fit much better than the previous pair though.

"Is that it?" I asked incredulously. "What more do you need?" he said, and looked at me like he wanted me for dinner. "Come!"

The bar wasn't far away and already busy when we arrived. He almost danced in, basically dragging me in, holding my hand. I was woozy from whatever I was drugged with, but in a way that made everything look amazing to me. In any direction I looked I was delighted by what I saw, no matter how mundane. The bar was not even half full and everyone looked as relaxed as you would expect from a bar half a block from the beach, though no one else was bare-chested. The decor was a random mix of styles, as expected by a dive bar. Tables for two or four were lined up in front of the bar at the back of the room. From a backroom somewhere behind it pumped music. I looked at my watch to see if it was already dance time, but I was only wearing a red nylon cord as a bracelet.

"You must be thirsty after a day in the sun," he said and handed me an Aperol Spritz. I could have sworn he hadn't left me for the bar, but then I didn't really trust my senses. We took a table for four and sat next to each other, facing the rest of the room. "So, tell me about your day," he continued, as if he hadn't been there for all of it.

For whatever reason I found it hard to figure out where to start, like it was all jumbled together despite nothing of consequence had happened. I began to describe how I had woken up in bed and how he surprised me with breakfast. How I had mistaken the red wine for coffee. I could feel his hand moving down my abs and into my board shorts. As he pulled out my erect cock from the shorts my immediate thought was of surprise. I hadn't realized I was hard. I continued to talk about how we went to the beach, while he was jerking me off with one hand under the table. It then hit me that I had no idea what my dick looked like, if it was big or small. I had never seen it. He had transformed me somehow into this surfer. How could I have forgotten something so monumental.

At that point I shot my load under the table. Four or five large pumps. I was suddenly aware again that there were people around us, and looking around tried to figure out if any of them could see I had my dick out. At the same time I was still feeling high or whatever it was. "I'll get a refill," he said, stood up and headed for the bar. I decided to put my dick back into the shorts.

"Hey, dude. Is he like your boyfriend?" someone standing next to me asked. How long had he been there? He was handsome, not quite as tall as I was now, but more muscled. The tight billabong shirt didn't hide much. "Him? No. We just..." I was trying to think of a good word. I wasn't sure what he was, or what was happening at all really. "Wanna check out the dance floor?" "Yeah... Yeah, I would."

I followed him towards the bar, and away to the side into the dance room. It was far from packed, but we were not alone at least. Immediately I regretted following him there, even before he started moving to the music. Once he did I knew I would look silly. I started to mimic his moves best I could. He smiled a crooked smile, though not an unkind one, when he saw what I was doing. He leaned forward and barely audible over the music asked "Are you up for a second round?"

"What do you mean?" I asked back. "I saw what that other dude did to you. I live nearby, if you want to try something that isn't over in minutes."

In the door opening I see him standing with two large drinks in his hands. He looks emotionless, which in itself was a scary contrast to how he looked before. He then drinks one of the drinks in one go, then immediately empties the other one as well. No sooner has he turned away with two empty glasses when I feel a desperate need to take a piss. He's fucking with me.

"Don't go anywhere," I say and dash towards to men's room.

It's empty. I go to the lone urinal and yank my dick out of the white thong. I'm confused, but happy I got there in time to relieve myself. Why am I wearing only a white thong to a bar? As the piss is streaming for longer than I can ever recall I look down my bare smooth legs and find a pair of eye-catching red hightops. When I'm finally done I have a look at myself in the mirror. Cute, young Latino boy with a red baseball cap on his unkempt hair, and a grey shirt. The shirt in a way makes the thong stand out even more and look intentionally inappropriate. Perfect!

I return to the dance floor and find the guy waiting. "There you are. Let's go!" he says, almost demanding. He doesn't say anything on the way to his apartment two blocks away. I keep looking his way, and it feels like my dick is growing bigger every time I look at those muscled arms. His pace is brisk without being conspicuous, he clearly wants us to get to his place as quickly as possible without being seen. In through an unlocked entrance, up two flights of stairs, and in through his apartment door.

As soon as he whisked me in and closed the door behind us he grabs me, shoves me into the wall next to us, and forcefully kisses me on my mouth. "You fucking whore! I'm so fucking horny you better know what you're doing."

He snores loudly again. I had tried to ignore it to spend a few more hours in the bed, but it's getting pointless to try to sleep any more. I carefully get up and get dressed. No need for a shower, now that everything dried. I make a final check I got everything with me that I brought in. There is that nagging feeling that I'm missing something. Well, whatever it was it can't be important. Quietly I exit his apartment and make my way out of the building. I feel restless being so quiet and calm, like it is unnatural for me to be that way. I basically explode in emotions as I exit the building and literally dance down the last few steps.

I try to think what to do next. My mind is like a spinning punch bowl of thoughts and I'm only able to fish out simple verbs. Party! Drink! Dance! Fuck! The sun is barely up, but perhaps I can find some nightclub still open.

[finelinevogue]

Can you do something where Y/N is sick and Harry has to take care of her please?

i actually had written something similar to this before so i present you a lengthy blurb;

You were pretty sure if you got invited in to hell it would feel something like this.

Hot. Sticky. But chilled.

You had come down with a concerningly high temperature. Along with the added luxuries of a deafening headache, cold sweats and an upset tummy. Your body was burning all over, as if it had just been freshly cooked in the oven but you felt colder than ice. It was a confusing juxtaposition, but there it was.

You'd called Harry, since he was in the studio recording his new music and asked him to come home early. You didn't even get to the reasoning of why he should come home before he hung up, telling you he was already vacating the premises. You hated to be that needy girlfriend who had to call about nearly everything, but Harry loved it more than anything. He loved the fact that you needed him. It gave him purpose, apparently .

You couldn't work out whether you regretted asking him to come home, or whether it was a blessing. It was a very fine line.

It was a blessing because, he looked after you like a mother would her child and made sure he stood by your side any time you found yourself lurched over a toilet. He made you chicken soup from scratch and even tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot, or salty - despite being a vegetarian himself. He even made you honey and lemon tea, which he had to run to the store for the honey. When you say run, you mean run. He didn't want to leave you alone at all, so he put on his running shoes and sprinted to the shop and back. However, it was a slight regret because of how fussy he was over you. He loved it to bits - nursing to your every need.

You truly believed you didn't deserve Harry. He was just too kind and pure for his own good. You were unarguably lucky. Laying on what felt like your death bed, didn't feel so lucky though.

It was now 10 pm and you could hear Harry turning on the alarm for downstairs, the loud beeping noise preventing you from sleep. That's all you'd done all day. Sleep. You thought it'd be more magical than it was. It was just uncomfortable though, because of how cold and hot you were.

Your much better looking other half trudged through the bedroom door within a minute of the alarm going off. He was only wearing checkered pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt and yet he made it look like Gucci Runway 2021.

The jingling of keys signalled Charlie was also present. Charlie was your 2 year old Golden Retriever. He was beautiful. When you and Harry has moved in together 2 years ago you'd managed to persuade him to get a dog. Within a few weeks of moving in you had a 5 month old puppy running around your house. He was your best friend, no doubt about it. He was also ridiculously photogenic.

"Hey Chaz!" You cooed as Charlie walked over to your side of the bed, where you were snuggling down under the sheets. You reached out your hand to give him some loving and attention. You could tell by the small smile and sparkling eyes that he was one happy boy.

"Alright, buddy. Let's leave mum alone." Harry came behind Charlie to manoeuvre him into his bed, which was in the corner of the room. It was more like a big cushion. He started to whine after being forced to leave you - having not seeing you all day. Harry was strict in keeping him downstairs so not to disturb you whilst you were sleeping.

"H it's alright, let him on the bed. He can curl up on my feet." You sympathised with Charlie, as you always did, hating to hear or see him upset. Harry was like the 'bad-cop' when it came to parenting Charlie, because you were too sweet to say no to him.

"You're one spoilt boy, aren’t you?" Harry messed around with Charlie, before telling him he could get up on the bed to see you. Charlie leapt on the bed and wandered over to give you all the kisses he could, before Harry came to calm him down - as you really didn't have the strength.

"I missed you too, Chaz." You quietly laughed, not wanting to set your headache off even more.

"You gonna let me kiss mum now?" Harry rhetorically asked, but as he came over to you Charlie laid down on you so your face was buried underneath his body. You could feel him panting with his adorable tongue out above you, as he hid you from Harry.

"Someone's jealous."

"Feeling like a bloody third wheel over here." Harry tutted and you laughed until you got hot with the movement.

"Harry? Can you move him please?" You whined as you tried to shuffle around.

"Okay Chaz. Let's let mum get some sleep, alright?" Charlie is slowly removed from you and ends up curled on top of your feet, keeping them warm for you.

Harry slipped into the covers and shuffled his way over to you, putting the back of his hand over your forehead and hissing quietly at the simple touch.

"Baby you're so hot." Harry complained.

"I know." You teased with a wink at him, taking his worry out of context and turning it into a flirting compliment.

"Oh piss off!" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you closer. "What am I going to do with you, baby?" Harry then planted only a few delicate kisses to your lips - not wanting to overwork you and your tired body.

••••

You woke up with drowsy eyes to find you're in bed alone.

Your throat was incredibly dry and your whole body was sticky from sweat. Your pyjamas were damp and your face looked like it'd just been drowned in a rainstorm. It was disgusting. Still, you brought the duvet up to cover yourself more, as you let out a dramatic shiver. Why was it so cold?

Mixed into the background noise you could hear the cheering of crowds and it really confused you, until you looked at the wall and noticed the football was playing on re-run on the TV. Manchester United Vs Manchester City. You hated that you knew that just from their football uniforms, but that's what you get for living with a football-crazed boyfriend.

You noticed Harry emerge from the bathroom, a washing up bowl in his arms. He came and sat down in bed, the bucket of water to his side. "What are you doing?" You quietly asked, peering up at him through tired eyes.

"Oi, you're meant to be sleep y’minx." Harry told you off.

"I can't. I'm too uncomfortable. I'm hot, but i'm cold. I also find it hard to sleep without you next to me." You huffed out in annoyance.

"My poorly baby." He leant down to kiss your forehead, "c’mere, baby." He urged.

He helped you move, seeing as your body was really weak, so you could lay down against Harry’s body. He was sat up against the headboard as you nestled down between his legs, your back to his front. It was a lot more comfortable than before - probably because Harry was closer to you. Charlie noticed the disturbance and waited for you to stop moving around, before maintaining the job of guarding your feet.

Once he was happy in his position he fell asleep again, making you jealous of his ability to do that. Especially now.

"Why's the football on?" You asked, motioning towards the TV.

"Had to keep myself awake somehow." He explained, but it only made you more confused.

"Why?"

"So I can take care of you, y’muppet." His words actually melted your heart - more than chocolate could melt on your forehead right now.

After you'd settled, Harry reached into the bucket and drained out a cloth. He made sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. You hummed in appreciation when he placed it against your forehead, rotating it to the back of your neck also in order to relax and cool you. It made you realise just how hot you were.

"I think i'm dying, Harry." You groaned as the nausea came over you again. Harry kept a firm hold of the cloth on your forehead, dabbing gently and careful to not let any water drip down into your eyes.

"No you're not, baby." Harry gave you a light-hearted laugh.

"Well, living shouldn't feel as shitty as this H." You grumbled, not appreciating his lack of understanding.

“Then just let me take you to the chuffing hospital!" He exclaimed, making Charlie stir slightly.

Harry had been demanding you go to the hospital all day and all evening, but you were too stubborn to go. That, and you were terrified of hospitals - more terrified of needles and blood than anything else. However, you were starting to reach the point where you were giving in to his request, though. It was becoming unbearable to sleep and harder to breathe. You were worried for yourself.

"I don't like it." You pouted like a child, as Harry wrung the cloth through the fresh water again.

"I don't care whether you like it or not, Y/N, I really think we should go. More like need." Harry insisted and you could tell he wasn’t giving up without a fight. You didn’t want that either.

You hated how he was right.

It was only going to get worse from here, and you didn't really want to be alive when that was going you happen, so going to the hospital to get checked over and drugged up seemed like the best option to go for. The more sensible option.

"Fine." You finally accepted, Harry slinking his arms tight around your waist after discarding the cloth in to the bucket. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted an abundance of kisses there, your skin burning just to the touch.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He repeated in-between kisses.

•••••

It took 20 minutes to get in to the car. 20 minutes.

All because Charlie was reluctant to letting you get up and go. So Harry had to dress you into a more appropriate attire, with a dog sat on your lower body. It was then half an hour later that you were in the hospital.

The hospital was quiet at this time of night and for that you were grateful. It was obviously a night where little numbers of people were doing silly things to get themselves hurt. There was the odd patient for a minor cut injury and there were a couple of people in for burns. There was even a woman in because she accidentally superglued her hand to a bottle of superglue - ironic, but painful.

You sat patiently on Harrys lap, waiting for someone to escort you to a cubicle. You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering - your outside body was giving off the opposite temperature. You tried to get as close to Harry's warmth as possible, pushing your body against his.

"You're alright baby." Harry shushed you, as you let out a small tremble.

"If I do die—"

"Which you won't." Harry chuckled.

"I know, but if I did I want you to know that I love you." You told him. Even though he's heard you say it a million times before, it still made his heart flutter as you spoke each word.

"I love you, baby." He kissed the side of your head. "But you're going to be just fine, so no more talking about you dying okay?"

"Why? It's only a natural thing." You pointed out.

"Sure, but I don't want to think of a world without my girl living in it. So zip it before I make you."

You never thought of dying as a world without Harry before now and it wasn't the time to start thinking about it either. It was a horrible thought and you understood why Harry didn't want you speak about it. That world would be so dark and empty and you hated thinking about it.

Harry was called to the front desk to fill in some forms for you, since your hands were too cold and shaky to do it for yourself. He accidentally wrote 'Styles' as your second name, before realising his mistake and scribbling it out.

“Shit.” Harry went red in the face and chuckled over his silly mistake. His hand was shaky and you smiled at how he got so flustered over something so simple. You rested your hand on top of his, bringing his attention to you.

“One day.” You told him and he leaned to give you a kiss on the lips. You couldn’t help but feel like his lips were a future promise to make sure he wouldn’t have to scribble out his second name the next time it was written next to yours.

The doctor saw you shortly afterwards and you thanked your lucky stars that there was no injections or removal of any blood involved, Harry sticking with you the whole time. Turns out you were suffering from a moderate fever, but the doctor said with good rest it should pass. The doctor had given Harry permission to make a big fuss over you - explaining how he was going to love it and you were going to hate it - and to make sure to come back with even the slightest worsen of the fever. You got given a prescription list of various medications that you'd need to take over the next week or so. After collecting the drugs, you were back in the car on the way home.

"Told you you weren't going to die." Harry smiled, happy to have you still by his side, whilst holding your hand over the gear console.

"Unfortunate for you, I guess."

"Will you shut you, y’bloody nuisance. You know I can't do life without you, Y/N." He spoke softly, squeezing your hand tighter to assure you that he's going nowhere.

"Same here." You smile at him and he smirks back at you with his dimple-loving smile.

"You’ll always be it for me, baby." Harry speaks, before you drift back off to sleep.

Happily.

[damonalbarn]

Hey I was wondering if you knew the article that Justine spoke about suzi in?!

It was in The Guardian in 2000. Here you go:

Sweet revenge

In the mid 90s, Justine Frischmann and Damon Albarn were the First Couple of Britpop. Then he used a Blur album to rake over their break-up, while she languished in obscurity amid rumours of heroin addiction. Now she's back with a new album, and it's her turn to exorcise her demons.

Caroline Sullivan

Friday March 24, 2000

As Alison Moyet once said, it's hard to write a decent song when you're happy. Rock bands thrive on romantic turmoil in their private lives, without which they would be reduced to padding out lyrics with football scores and the weather.

Thus it was for Blur's Damon Albarn in mid-1998 when he sat down to write what would become the 13 album. His eight-year relationship with Justine Frischmann of the chart-topping Elastica, whom he once described as **"the only person who's ever been completely necessary to me" **had just ended, at her instigation. Pained and humiliated, he decided to exact revenge by exposing their most intimate details to public scrutiny.

The outcome? Embarrassment for Frischmann, a number one album for Blur and a bit of a result for Albarn.

Break-up albums are by definition both embittered and yearning - in the case of Marvin Gaye's vindictive Here, My Dear, they're just plain nasty - but 13 got more up-close and personal than could be considered gentlemanly. Albarn portrayed his former partner as neurotic, even slipping apparent drug references into the single Tender: "Tender is the ghost, the ghost I love the most/Hiding from the sun, waiting for the night to come". Frischmann was the ghost, supposedly, who was on the verge of being consumed by what one music paper euphemistically called "the darkness at the heart of Elastica".

Frischmann's response can be found on a song called The Way I Like It, which appears on Elastica's first album in five years, The Menace (out next month): "Well, I'm living all right and I'm doing okay/Had a lover who was made of sand, and the wind blew him away".

This is unlikely to be her last word on the subject. As she ambivalently begins her first round of interviews since 1996, she's finding that everyone has the same three questions. Why did Elastica nearly sabotage a promising career by taking so long to follow up their million-selling debut? Had Frischmann taken leave of her senses when she walked out on Mr Britpop? And what about the drug rumours?

"One journalist said to me, 'Dahling, I heard you were on heroin - Mahvelous!' " she says with some amusement. "Drugs are around, but I'm not that interested and never have been, although there have been elements of party animal in my band. The rumours are a lot to do with rock'n'roll mythology, where people want to believe you're having a more exciting time than you are."

The only drugs on her person today, as she perches on the edge of an armchair in her publicist's north London living room, are Marlboro Lights. Her other indulgences are two cups of herbal tea and a Cadbury's Flake cupcake, which she nibbles with well-bred pleasure. Her dark eyes are clear, and her long, tanned body is a testament to the virtues of a daily swim in a pool near her Notting Hill home. Only Elastica know whether they really succumbed to heroin and hedonism after their self-titled debut made them more famous than they'd ever expected to be, but if they did, Frischmann, 30, seems little the worse for it.

Given the current predominance of damnable boy bands, the Britpop mid-90s are beginning to seem like a halcyon period for English music. It was a time when the underground went overground, and a self-described "little punk band" like Elastica could sell 80,000 albums in a week.

More than a few loser guitar groups saw Britpop as a licence to print money, but Elastica, led with cool elan by the androgynous Frischmann, were one of its gems. The Blur connection was a marketing godsend (Frischmann and Albarn met on the London indie circuit, she as guitarist in an early line-up of Suede and girlfriend of frontman Brett Anderson, he as a cherubic baggy hopeful), yet the spiky-haired Elastica LP embodied that euphoric time like nothing else.

Frischmann, guitarist Donna Matthews, drummer Justin Welch and bassist Annie Holland were unprepared for the album soaring to number one in its first week. When they signed their record deal, Frischmann, whose great-grandfather was a conductor of the Tsar's orchestra at the Summer Palace in Byelorussia, was five years into an architecture degree at London University. A liberal north London Jewish upbringing - her engineer father built the Oxford Street landmark Centrepoint - had instilled expectations of success, but the reality of being photographed in the supermarket and having her rubbish stolen was a shock. Fiercely independent, she also resented her unsought role as half of Britpop's First Couple.

There was more. Two of Frischmann's musical heroes, The Stranglers and Wire, decided that two Elastica songs were suspiciously similar to two of their own tracks, and won royalties. Meanwhile, there were malicious rumours that Albarn had done much of the work on the record. He hadn't, but he did find Justine's success in America, where she was substantially out-selling Blur, hard to endure.

"It was very hard for him to deal with and he's very confrontational," she says, with the flattering openness of someone who prefers interviews to be more like conversations. She admits she often says too much, but in an era of image control and spin, her honesty makes her a one-off. Not that she's likely to land herself in it too badly - she possesses the intellectual ammunition to look after herself, which must have been instrumental in attracting two of rock's more articulate stars, Albarn and Anderson.

She's been accused of being a professional rock girlfriend, though it was probably they who were lucky to get her. She spent the cab ride over reading the Sylvia Plath letters in Monday's Guardian, and muses on the irony of the poet's subjugating herself to Ted Hughes when she was the more gifted. (Her new boyfriend, by the way, is an unknown photographer, "though that'll probably change, because men seem to get famous when I go out with them".)

"I reacted the way a lot of women do, by being passive," she continues. "He put a lot of pressure on me to give up Elastica. He said, 'You don't want to be in a band, you want to settle down and have kids.' " In so many words? "In so many words. He kept putting on pressure till I started to believe him." She adds bemusedly: "I've met his new girlfriend, and one of the first things she said was that he wanted her to give up travelling with her work to stay home with the baby [Missy, born last autumn]. I'm surprised he's got away with being thought of as a nice person for so long."

After 18 months, during which they did seven American and three Japanese tours, Elastica came off the road to record company demands for an immediate second album. Annie Holland's response was to quit the group, while Donna Matthews became renowned for hard partying on the nocturnal west London scene. They lethargically recorded some demos, but their heart wasn't in it. By 1997, when a second album should have been ready to go, Frischmann and Matthews were barely speaking, and there was nothing useable down on tape.

Holland's replacement, Sheila Chipperfield (of the circus Chipperfields), was deemed not good enough and left by mutual consent. By 1998, their continued lack of productivity was being likened to the Stone Roses' lengthy and ultimately self-destructive holiday between their first and second LPs.

"I didn't think Elastica were going to continue at that point, and we did kinda split up," she says, absently stroking her publicist's cat. Frischmann is a cat person; she's owned a tabby called Benjamin since she was 10. "Unconditional love," she coos. The pet's place in her life is so assured that prospective boyfriends are subjected to his feline scrutiny before she'll go out with them.

On top of everything else, in early 1998 her relationship with Albarn was in trouble. Frischmann retains enough of the indie ethic to detest the phenomenon of celebrity couples, and was dismayed when they became one. "I really hated the tabloid interest, and I went out of my way not to be photographed with him. Only about three pictures of us together exist, I think. In many ways, I think the media interest broke us up, because it made me feel the relationship was quite ugly, and I had to get away from it. There were other factors, too, obviously, because we were together for eight years, and I finally felt it was better the devil you didn't know, really."

Albarn's ego seems to have been severely undermined by having a girlfriend who was nearly as successful as he was, and something of a sex symbol to boot. Despite adopting a resolutely boyish T-shirt-and-jeans uniform, she's thoroughly feminine, a mix that got her voted fifth most fanciable woman in a lesbian magazine.

"I'm completely heterosexual, so I didn't know how to take that. It scares the shit out of me, the idea of being with a girl. I'm glad I've narrowed it down to half the people in the world."

She seems to view Albarn with indulgent exasperation these days, simultaneously praising his intelligence ("The Gallaghers just couldn't compete") and ticking off his flaws. "Damon adores being in the press, and sees all press as good press. He orchestrated that rivalry thing with Oasis. He really wanted kids, and I didn't feel our relationship was stable enough. He was a naughty boy, and he wasn't the right person to have kids with. I had this cathartic moment..."

At which point they split up. Albarn wrote 13 and then met Suzi Winstanley, an artist. "She was pregnant within three months," Justine observes wickedly.

Of the acclaimed 13, she's tactful, describing several songs as "really lovely". She studies her cigarette for a while before adding, "but I'm cynical about selling a record on the back of our relationship". But you're doing the same now. "It's true, but at the time I had no right of reply."

Elastica finally pulled themselves together last year, just as the music industry was about to write them off (their American label had already "very kindly let us go", as she puts it). Holland rejoined, Matthews went to Wales to sort out her life and the band banged out an EP and played the Reading Festival. Things came together quickly after that. They spent the last £10,000 of the recording budget on re-recording a dozen tracks, finishing the album, after years of procrastinating, in six weeks. They've called it The Menace "because that's what it was like to make".

It's dark and resolutely uncommercial - all wrong for 2000's pop-oriented climate. It's unlikely to match the success of the first one, which is fine with them. Call it (though Justine doesn't) their White Album. Its 70s punk aesthetic brings to mind angry girls such as the Slits and the Au Pairs, although the defining mood isn't anger so much as catharsis. None of the songs is specifically about Albarn, she claims. "The dark feeling is due to the sense of isolation, tasting success and getting frightened by it. I was questioning whether I wanted to be in a band any more, and there was no one I could ask for advice. Getting success and everything you ever dreamed about is hard to handle, and makes you question everything."

She's better prepared for success, if it comes again, this time. Already the privacy-preserving barriers are in place. The next interview of the day is with Time Out magazine, which wants a list of her favourite restaurants. "I'm not telling them where I eat," she says reflexively. "I'm gonna lie."

[brushstrokesapocalyptic]

it’s time for the “overanalyzing one-off lines” show!

so the very first thing magnus says when he sees pit in chapter 2 of kid icarus: uprising is as follows:

“Well, I didn’t expect to see an angel here. Hope this doesn’t mean I’ve kicked the bucket.”

now, i’m not sure if you’re aware, but that’s a really weird thing for someone to say, and it’s even more weird that no one comments on it. pit and palutena go on talking about unrelated things, as if that’s a totally normal and expected thing for magnus to say.

now, if you’re like me, you probably also didn’t really react to this line the first few times you saw it. it’s the second chapter, kiu has a lot of slightly-odd lines which turn out to be foreshadowing. me, personally? my first thought was “oh, i guess angels are probably associated with escorting the dead to the afterlife,“ and then i moved on.

they’re not, though. that’s what reapers do. and there’s no way humans have these two races mixed up. just fucking look at them.

do they look anything alike to you??? no. they don’t. which raises the question of why, exactly, magnus said that.

now, we don’t know a lot about angels as a whole. pit (and by extension dark pit) is emphatically not the gold standard of angeldom. we can assume he looks fairly ordinary for an angel, seeing as no one has trouble identifying him as such. beyond that, though, a lot of what we know about angels comes from what pit isn’t. for starters, he can’t fly. and there’s something else, too, but i’ll get to that later.

before that, though, i’m gonna go through the various unsubstantiated comments made by people with a dubious level of authority on the subject. (incidentally, i sourced these screenshots from the wiki— much more convenient than trying to dig through youtube for every single random conversation.)

without any further ado! let’s get into it!

Angels as Messengers

Gaol: Aw, Palutena’s little messenger boy. And Magnus, it’s always a pleasure. (src)

in the specific context of overanalyzing magnus’s first line, this is an important sentence to pick out. magnus and gaol are both humans, both with presumably a fairly similar history as mercenaries up until gaol got stuffed in a suit of armor. but while magnus makes a weird comment about death, gaol calls pit a messenger.

and pit agrees with her!

Viridi: I wish I had an angel to do my bidding. It’s like having an intern.

Pit: I’m not an intern. I’m a messenger of the gods!

Viridi: Poor Pit. Don't you know that the definition of angel is "errand spirit"? (src)

this particular conversation is the most insight we get into angels as a whole, i think. viridi thinks of angels as like divine interns, there to do little tasks for gods, and palutena doesn’t exactly disagree with her. pit says they’re specifically messengers, which lines up with biblical mythology. i could see the traditional role of angels in the world of KI being exactly that, showing up to tell the humans what the gods have to say because the gods themselves are too busy being petty jerks to do it themselves.

The Angel’s Code of Conduct

Magnus: You go in fully dressed? Don't you at least want to change into a...swimming tunic or something?

Pit: Oh, no no no! The angel's code of conduct says that we must always be ready for duty.

Magnus: I guess you wouldn't be an angel if you didn't do things by the book. (src)

Pit: Hey! You know the angel's code of conduct! I need to be prepared at all times! (src)

another random little thing is the angel’s code of conduct. without a larger sample size, we can’t know if it’s a real thing or just an excuse to save on laundry, but apparently it’s against the rules to not be on call at all times. in pit’s case, the duty he has to be ready for is doing palutena’s dirty work, but it can easily mean just about anything— including, of course, being a messenger.

No Warrior

Chariot Master: But you are no warrior, angel. Tell me, why do you fight?

Pit: I fight for Lady Palutena. And I fight for the people under her protection!

Chariot Master: That's not reason enough for an angel. (src)

remember how i said there was something else weird about pit? the chariot master seems to think angels aren’t very prone to battle— or perhaps even that they’re actively opposed to it. this lines up well with the idea that they’re supposed to be messengers, peaceful go-betweens for gods and mortals. this does not line up well with pit, the adorable weapon of mass destruction.

and it also does absolutely nothing to explain the question driving the whole existence of this post.

you know what does kinda lean towards an explanation?

No Other Angels

Pit: Do all gods have their own angels, like you have me?

Palutena: No, I don't think that's necessarily the case. (src)

i said before that the Intern Pit conversation had the most illuminating information on angels. this is what i was actually referring to. on its own, it’s pretty innocuous, but it’s just as weird as the magnus line. shouldn’t pit know about other angels, seeing as he is one himself? but he doesn’t know if there are other angels.

the only angels we ever see are him and his clone. no one ever directly references the existence of other angels, they only make general statements about what angels as a whole are like— statements which clearly don’t apply to pit, meaning they’re not just extrapolating based on the one angel that definitely does exist.

the one time someone does comment on the hypothetical existence of other angels, palutena gives a vague answer to the tune of “no,” the topic is changed, and no one brings it up again.

let’s go over everything i’ve established about angels up to this point. they can fly, they’re peaceful messengers of the gods, and pit is the only one that seems to exist as of the start of KIU.

it should be pretty obvious at this point what answer i’m dancing around, if it wasn’t obvious from the start. pit is the only angel around because all the other ones are dead. the reason why magnus said what he did is that his thought process went something like this:

See an angel.

Think “Aren’t angels extinct? Is that a ghost? Am I a ghost? I sure hope not.“

Make a quip about that.

Move on with his life, because he isn’t dead and evidently neither is this guy.

i’m not gonna pretend i went into this post with the intent of any other conclusion to that mystery. anyone who’s bothered glancing over a plot summary for the original kid icarus can draw that conclusion. it’s certainly what i did, reinforced by fics by people who had the same thought!

the truth, however, is that this was all a trick to get you to read my analysis of the theoretical nature of angels as a race. now that you’re invested, i’m going to dramatically throw aside my cape and reveal my TRUE FORM: telling people that fandom consensus is wrong, and my ideas are cooler and better than everyone else’s and you should all throw roses at my feet and bow before your king.

(or just, y’know, take it as the subjective analysis that it is. whatever floats your boat.)

Hot Takes

the original kid icarus does not actually tell you about angels going extinct. here’s the wiki article with the full text of the backstory, just for convenience, so you know what i’m on about for the rest of this post.

so, the part of the story that i think gets misinterpreted is this part about palutena’s army.

Medusa led a surprise attack on Palutena's army which could barely fend off the attack. Palutena's army suffered major losses and was heavily defeated in the final battle.

specifically, i think a lot of people interpret said army as having been made up at least partly of angels. sure, in the actual game it consists entirely of centurions, but you have to take old NES games with a grain of salt. i know i don’t buy for a second that pit was part of palutena’s guard before the original game (he was just too goddamn young), there’s nothing wrong with reinterpreting things.

recall everything i established about angels already, though. this is the hot official lore, from the game everyone knows and loves. angels are messengers, and if the chariot master is to be believed, never warriors. pit is an outlier. palutena’s army consists of centurions, not angels. if medusa wiped them out, it wasn’t because they were fighting for palutena.

(and honestly, i don’t think angels are necessarily associated with palutena exclusively. sure, she’s got the wing imagery, and she’s got the one known surviving angel working for her, at least up until pittoo is born. but angels are messengers of the gods, not messengers of palutena. again, pit is an outlier.)

which all brings us to the real question of this post.

what the FUCK happened to all the other angels? why is there only pit? why does magnus act surprised to see a messenger of the gods, and make a quip about being dead, if not because angels are otherwise extinct?! WHO KILLED THEM, AND WHY?!

thus concludes the “over analyzing one-off lines“ show. see you next, uh, maybe at some point if i feel like it!

(also another thought i had but couldn’t find room to fit it in properly: the gods don’t really act like angels are all extinct, but i feel like that can be explained through the sheer scale of a god’s lifespan. if we assume they were wiped out sometime around the original kid icarus (even if not as palutena’s army) then that’s a whole twenty-five years. that’s a long time for us humans, but for a god, that might as well be last tuesday. “yeah, i know what angels are like. sure wish i could have one. too bad palutena’s got a monopoly on the one single angel that medusa didn’t manage to wreck.”)

[ramzawrites]

IronGolem!Hybrid!Reader - Protector - Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Male

Pairings: none

Characters included: Quackity, Fundy, Tubbo, Punz, Technoblade, Philza, Dream

Warnings: blood, character death, cursing

Series: Part of my Iron Golem request series! 💙

Summary: Y/N helped the Butcher Army to escort Techno towards his trial only for this trial to turn into a surprise execution. An execution that finally gives Y/N the chance to flee that he was so desperately looking for, all along. Even if others had to push him towards this opening.

Words count: 2684

Authors Note: Woops I thought this would be the last part but there will be a part 4 after all o7

As they begun moving Techno followed along quietly. Never pulling on the chains, just dutifully following behind Y/N. His eyes mostly trained on the horse that Quackity was now riding.

They walked back to where they left their horses and got back up on theirs. Y/N got Quackity’s horse and let Techno on it, leading that horse along as he rode his own black steed. Sometimes petting his horse, his rough hands weaving through the long black mane, more as a way to calm himself down rather than the horse.

Riding between Quackity who was at the front while both Fundy and Tubbo stayed at Techno’s side while Ranboo stayed at the end of the group. Ensuring that Techno didn’t try anything too stupid.

Throughout the whole ride Fundy and Quackity began taunting Techno, Tubbo would occasionally chime in as well while both Y/N and Ranboo stayed quiet.

It surprised Y/N a bit that Techno actually responded to some taunts with his own snide remarks that would usually shut the other party up, for a short moment at least. He certainly had his wits about him.

Y/N couldn’t help but look up to Technoblade in a sense. He himself was escorted away in a similar manner but other than Techno, he immediately gave up and just followed along with his captors. Not even saying a word against them and while Techno did follow them along as well, he still talked back, made them feel stupid about their own thoughtless comments.

And Y/N enjoyed the frustrated exclamations of the group whenever Techno made one of his targeted comments. This was not a good situation for the warrior but he kept his dignity and a part of control and power in this situation.

Technoblade was strong and Y/N was not.

No, Y/N was weak willed and naïve. He should have fought more. Tried to escape or tried to send along a message to his home, to his people. Should have asked Ranboo to maybe check up on the town, after all he seemed to be the most reasonable one of the group but he didn’t. He was too scared and just gave up. What kind of protector was he?

Then again, he couldn’t fight, and he had to work with what he can do. Sometimes staying alive was the best and even most rebellious thing someone can do. Maybe if he was just patient enough, he would find a chance to flee! Though whenever this thought crossed his mind he feared that he had missed his one chance already due to his cowardice.

It didn’t take long for them to reach L’Manberg. Getting off the horses to walk back into the town middle. Y/N still holding the chains that were keeping Techno’s wrists bound.

As they walked further into the town, they passed Philza’s home.

The winged man stood on his upper balcony, staring down with a cold expression “You actually got him.”

“Get inside! You are on house arrest!” Tubbo just yelled back as an answer but Techno turned to face his friend, pulling on the chains in the process. Y/N pulled them back again, scared with what could happen next.

“Phil! Phil! What did they do to you!”

Fundy got his axe back out and pushed the flat side against Techno side, urging him to keep on going. This unspoken threat seemed to be enough for him to ignore his old friend and instead continued to follow Y/N who in return followed Quackity and Tubbo.

Though as Y/N pulled his gaze away from Philza, he could see a fond softness in his eyes. Worry mixed with anger. It was the first time he saw genuine emotion on his face, rather than the forced smiles he portrayed usually.

“Lead him up there, keep the chains around his wrists in there and stand close by.” Tubbo ordered the Iron Golem Hybrid, pointing at what looked like a cage right beneath a strange structure that Y/N couldn’t immediately make out what it was for.

But there was a foreboding feeling in the air.

Y/N opened up the door and without a word Techno just walked inside. The gate crashed shut again.

He could finally let go off the chain that he held on to. Dropping it as soon as he could. But the feeling of disgust stayed or maybe it was guilt. Maybe a mix. The less he thought about it the better, so instead Y/N just concentrated on Tubbo who begun a speech.

What kind of trials does L’Manberg have?

This wasn’t really a trial was it?

“Hey, Y/N, right?”

Y/N didn’t respond but stared at Techno from the corners of his eyes. Why was he talking to him? How should he react? Should he even react? Would the others hurt him if he visibly reacted?

“I know of you. You were-“

Though Technoblade didn’t finish his sentence. Smoke appeared in front of the stage and a person covered in armor appeared. They wore a white hoodie with netherite armor on top. Not even waiting a beat as they begun to attack the Butcher Army with their axe and crossbow.

Tubbo pulled his shield in front of his face, barely catching the arrow that came flying directly towards his face “Pull the lever, Big Q!”

Lever? What lever?

Even Techno seemed surprised letting out a quite frankly comical confused noise.

There was no hesitation on Quackity’s side. He immediately sprinted towards the structure and pulled the lever. Y/N could see a redstone pulse running up the build.

What the hell was going on?

Technoblade pushed his hands into his pocket, pulling out a small golden figure. Y/N couldn’t see it very well, but he immediately knew what it was.

A totem of undying.

Surprised Y/N stared at Techno only to see something black falling down.

He completely tuned out the sound of the fighting and screaming, his senses concentrated on Technoblade. His eyes directed at the black anvil that was flying with incredible speed down towards the cage.

Before Y/N could properly process what was happening, or the implications of this whole ordeal, the anvil was already on his eye level.

It connected with Techno’s skull with a sickening wet crack, immediately followed by an explosion of green light. It was so bright Y/N had to shield his eyes with his arms. Surprised by the warmth that came off the magic that engulfed Technoblade and revitalized his body. Pulling him away from the land of the dead and stitching his broken body back together.

As fast as the light appeared, it was just as fast gone. Y/N removed his arms and saw Techno jumping off the anvil and over the iron bars.

The man literally, just died but he didn’t waste any time to flee once he had the chance. Was it jealousy or admiration Y/N felt? He didn’t know, either way he was impressed.

While Y/N seemed to be a bit dazed, still trying to process this, Techno used the chance in between the chaos all around them to take a look around only to spot a masked man leading his horse away.

“He has Carl!”

He then proceeded to grab Y/N’s forearm and pulled him along. Techno’s grip was strong and unrelenting. Pressing down uncomfortably on a few burns that were just beginning to heal properly hence why Y/N’s first reaction was to pull his arm away, but the Pig Hybrid was holding on. Not giving him a chance to protest.

Why did Techno do this? Why did he tug him along? He clearly knew of Y/N but how? What did he know?

So, the best option was to follow him, right into a little opening at the side of a hill. Inside there was a room, lined with chests and another opening that seemed to lead into tunnels.

But what really caught Y/N’s attention was the man that held the reigns of Carl. A white porcelain mask with a smiling face hid away his face. A cloak hiding his physique and probably weapons.

Once inside the room Techno let go off Y/N to snarl “Dream, give me Carl.”

This masked man was the infamous Dream? His green hood was pulled up, the mask looked already unsettling but with the added shadow of the hood? As he stared at Y/N it felt like he was sizing him up. As if to wager something out.

Once again Y/N felt incredibly small under someone else’s gaze.

Dream slowly got closer and gave Techno the reigns of Carl “You brought him with you? I’m surprised, Techno.”

Techno walked up to Carl and pressed his forehead against that of the horses as a greeting “I don’t think we have the time to talk about this Dream, besides weren’t you the one trying to get him out of there?”

“Yes, I suppose you are correct. We don’t have the time to talk about this though. You two better get going. There should also be some armor and potions in one of the chests. And Y/N?” Dream turned towards him now “We’ll meet again, I promise you. You will get your revenge.” With that he ran off through the opening that Techno previously pulled Y/N in.

Techno rummaged through one of the chests. Letting out a disappointed sigh as he spotted some iron armor. With trained movements he slipped surprisingly fast into the clunky armor. Fastening it around himself and hooking the potions to his belt.

Hooves clicked on the stone ground as Techno lead Carl towards the tunnels “Not to put too much pressure on you but if you want to get out of this mess you better come with me.” Techno’s eyes rested calmly on Y/N. He was serious and looked like he was calculating something but there was something genuine and almost friendly mixed in.

“I- uh, understood.���

This honestly felt unreal. Like a dream. Though Y/N hasn’t decided yet if this was just another nightmare. It felt like a trap. Too convenient but what could he do? Run back out towards the city? He can’t fight like Dream or Techno, he wouldn’t get the chance to flee. Besides they would just capture him again and he didn’t want to think about how he might be treated afterwards.

His best bet really was with Technoblade but why he would do this for him after he escorted him to his own execution, he didn’t know.

Hell, how did he even know of him?

“Now, Y/N.”

Techno just begun moving into the tunnels. Y/N made sure to stay close. A spark of hope inside his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in ages. Is it okay if he takes this spark and holds it close? Just in case it breaks out into a fire?

Almost as if to answer this question both Techno and Y/N heard a voice coming from behind them. It wasn’t Dream’s. No, Y/N knew this voice too well. It was Quackity. Quackity has found him and would bring him back.

That spark seemed to dim after all.

“What the fuck is this? What is this Techno? How the fuck did that Anvil not kill you? And now you are stealing my things? Stealing my blacksmith?”

Techno let out a cackling laugh as he made sure to stand in front of Y/N. Grasping the hilt of his netherite pickaxe in one of his hands.

“Listen here Quackity. I tried telling you that the root of the problems here was government! I fought alongside you to show you! And you used me! So, I retaliated with force, to prove my point but you still formed a government! After that I was content with getting away from it! I tried to retire! I swore off violence! You still hunted me down! You-“

He moved his head around a bit, looking at Y/N from the corner of his eyes only to snap back to Quackity “You hurt my friends!”

Quackity didn’t seem to have noticed this but Y/N did. Techno referred to Y/N as his friend? He somehow felt like he was missing some vital piece of information. Never in his life has he even talked with him before this. Maybe he really just meant the horse, it stood off to the other side but surely, he must have only meant Carl. Perhaps Philza as well? Yes, those he must have meant. No way did he group Y/N in there as well.

Not after he was the one who escorted Techno away from his peaceful life with chains around his wrists.

Quackity bit down on his lip in anger before he answered “Techno, I don’t care about that. All that I care about is that you are on my hit list.”

“Hit list? What kind of Hit list?”

“I’m building up a nation and this nation needs direction, organization and I swear no matter what it fucking takes me, I will fucking kill you.”

Once again Techno laughed “Quackity, do you really think you are enough to kill me? Even unarmored and only in iron armor?”

At this point Y/N was straight up jealous at Techno’s confidence and cockiness. He would have just cowered in fear, given up but Techno did not. He stood strong, calm. Like a boulder between turbulent waters.

That spark that seemed to dim inside of him seemed to flare up again. If he just stayed close to Techno and trusted in him, maybe he is allowed to hope. Just this once.

Obviously Quackity tried to stay calm and collected beforehand but this seemed to push him over the edge “So be it! I’ll fucking kill you right here and now!”

He immediately took his axe out and jumped towards Techno who confidently blocked the attack with his pickaxe. With a simple twist of his arm and body, he hooked Quackity weapon with his own and then used his whole body to pull it out of his hands.

The axe flew through the air, landing with a loud clanging on the ground in front of Y/N. He didn’t think much about it as he slowly stretched his hand out and grabbed it. Holding the weapon close to himself. Seeing how he couldn’t fight, this weapon would be useless in his hands but at least he could ensure that Quackity didn’t pick it up again.

It was the first time he rebelled against him. It was the first time he took some sort of control over this situation. He did not give up. He did something.

As he looked up he could see a shocked Quackity.

“I only have this pickaxe, Quackity, but I’ll put it through your teeth!”

There was this bloodlust to his words. A malice that Y/N expected from Techno before he met him. As his only idea of him was that what the butcher army told him.

He realized that their stories relied on a kernel of truth though in this moment he wasn’t scared of this Techno. No, he saw pain, self-preservation and conviction in his actions right now.

Quackity evaded one of Techno’s attacks only for his second to hit. Hitting his open mouth with the pickaxe and dragging it across his face. Resulting in Quackity to fall down motionless. Blood spilling to the ground as his body slowly dissolved into gold dust. He was respawning.

Technoblade just took Quackity’s first life. Just like that. It went over so fast. Like it was nothing.

Without seemingly missing a beat he turned around to look Y/N dead in the eyes, now calm again “We need to go. Now. I’ll explain everything to you once we are safe. I promise.”

He didn’t even wait for an answer and instead begun leading Carl through the tunnel again.

Y/N took a second to stare at the dissolving Quackity only for Techno to pull him back out of his thoughts “Y/N!”

“Why are you helping me. Just- Just tell me this. I’ll follow you, I promise, but I need to know.”

Techno sighed “Because how couldn’t we? How can you see injustice and not do anything?”

____

Tag: @plaguedoctorsnake

[justfangirlthingies]

Caught my eye (Corpse Husband x reader)

Soulmate AU: In which everyone has one eye in their own eye colour and one in the colour of their soulmate. However, when you are close to meeting each other, your vision will change to the soulmate's one, letting you know you are close. When your eyes meet they will change their colour to their original eye colour.

Word count: 4189 words

Warnings: cursing because that is automatically given when writing about Corpse

Another Soulmate AU from my Wattpad account let's go!

Staring into the camera were a pair of, colourwise mismatched, eyes, one iris a deep brown and the other one a shimmering (e/c).

It was not unusual for someone to have two different eye colours in one set of eyes, it simply meant one had yet to find their significant other.

Pressing record on your camera you let your eyes stay right in front of the lens for a second before rolling backwards on your chair, your torso now in frame as well "Hello all of you beautiful individuals! I'm (y/yt/n) and as always I welcome you here!" You waved at your camera, a warm and welcoming smile gracing your lips. "In case this is your first time stumbling over this channel" you paused a second and giggled "Hi, welcome to this chaos!" Slowly you neared the camera again "Leave while you still can" you whisper shouted into your microphone.

"No hold on don't leave please! I was just kidding" You joked at your camera.

A happy sigh escaped your mouth as you leaned back in your chair "Today is q & a time isn't it?" You wiggled your eyebrows at the blinking light in front of you "Well let's get to it then...hmm...lemme see. Youtubetrash asks 'how old are you (Y/n)?' Do you always have to ask that question guys?" You scold playfully "I'm 19, but I really don't get why this is so important to you that I have to answer it in every video, like do you want to know the exact amount of days and minutes? Will you stop asking it every goddamn time then?" You chuckled as you ran a hand through your (h/l), (h/c) hair. "Right, next question! SusanIsAFish wants to know which eye colour my own is. I can easily answer that with either 'both are' or 'hell if I know' I've always had two eye colours like how am I supposed to know." A grin spread on your face as you continued to interact with your community's questions...

"Alright alright these are the last two questions guys. Nightmaresscareme...honestly same" you laughed as you read the users name out aloud. When you calmed down again you cleared your throat and continued "Ahem, anyways they wanna know if I found my soulmate already and who it is....Do I look like I found my soulmate?" You asked smiling as you approached the recording device once again and pointed a finger at each eye. "I have no Idea who it is but maybe you find whoever it is because all of you people are little Sherlock's I swear, you find out everything." Laughter erupted from your throat once again as you pointed at your camera.

"Last but not least, (y/n)stan asks 'when will you collab with Jack again? The two of you promised to make a video or something together?' Woah calm down, honestly I don't even think he remembers that, it was years ago. How do you even remember that (y/n)stan? I swear to god that's exactly what I meant with ya'll being Sherlock's." You wiggled your eyebrows again "But if you do remember, Seán and you magically happen to see this video. What happened to our collab plans dude?" You giggled "Alrighty guys that's it for today's video. Stay awesome my dudes, dudettes and in betweens and I'll see ya in the next one!" You winked and waved before stopping your recording and going straight to editing your video.

Just as you were about to upload your piece of work, your phone rang, scaring you in the process and causing you to delete your video. You groan in frustration holding your head in your palms.

"This better be important..." you mumbled to yourself as you went to check your phone. Seriously?! It was a Twitter notification. You sighed and ignored it for now, saving your video was a priority right now.

After hours of retrieving and re-editing your footage you finally uploaded the video to the worldwide known platform and picked up your phone to see what Twitter wanted from you.

As you opened the app you saw that it was a private message from none other than Jacksepticeye. What a freaking coincidence you thought, a smile now appearing on your face as you read the message. All your frustration was gone and instead replaced with confusion and laughter.  "What kind of message is that?" You muttered as you shook your head laughing.

Jacksepticeye:

Hey (Y/n) what colours are your eyes again?

(Y/T/N):

What kinda question is that? Lmao

Jacksepticeye:

Just answer my question dum dum :)

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A raven haired male was on a discord call with his online friend that he had just revealed his face to. "Jack what are you doing now?" The young man laughed at his friend.

"Hold on, I'm texting someone."

The dark haired man sighed and waited "that's not very polite you know" he smiled.

"Pschh I'm finding your soulmate, what's impolite about that?" The Irish man looked up from his phone and back at his Computer screen. Only to start laughing at the other's reaction.

"Corpse? You good?" He kept on laughing at the dumbfounded expression on Corpse's face.

Who as a reaction turned off his camera, suddenly feeling very insecure towards his friend again.

"What do you mean?" His deep voice asked cautious.

"Don't worry man I'm not leaking your face or any info to anyone" he smiled reassuringly. "Your eyes just reminded me of someone else with the same or very similar ones. At least I hope I remember their eye colours correctly" He rambled on.

"Oh..." came from the other line, which was now more quiet than usual.

Seán noticed the change in his friend's behaviour and immediately stopped what he was doing. "I'm sorry Corpse..." the Irishman scratched bis neck awkwardly "I should've asked you first"

"I-it's fine. I just can't imagine anyone wanting to be my soulmate" the male sighed.

His friend flashed an encouraging smile at the screen "Dude! Anyone would be happy to be your soulmate. I know I would be! You are great, I know you probably don't believe me but I mean it bud. Besides, your soulmate is your other half, it's like they were made for you"

One could hear a sigh coming from the black screen as Corpse turned his camera back on, his pink tinted cheeks now showing up on screen as well. He had put his eye-patch on, leaving only his brown eye visible. "And you're really sure?" He asked quietly.

"100% sure! Anyone with half a brain would know how lovable you are" the blue eyed male grinned. "Besides, the person I'm thinking of also has a YouTube channel, I think I still owe them a collab, sooo I could maybe invite them to play some kind of-"

He cut himself off. "They answered!"

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(Y/T/N):

Well they're like brown and (e/c), it's such a weird mix though.

Jacksepticeye:

Interesting.

Hey (Y/n), how about we do that collab? You could fly out and we meet up

(Y/T/N):

You still remember that? XD

Yeah sure I'd love that, I just had someone ask me about that collab today.

But seriously dude why are my eyes interesting to you all of a sudden? You found my soulmate or smth 🧐😂

Jacksepticeye:

😏😌🤭🤫

Right....

So when are you coming?

(Y/T/N):

Dude!

You literally just asked me if I even wanna come! Like come on, you think I've booked a flight already? Just like 10 minutes after you asked me to travel there?

Jacksepticeye:

As a matter of fact I don't just think so, I know it ;)

So when do I have the honors of picking your jet-lagged ass up at the airport?

(Y/T/N):

:(

...

This weekend

Time skip

A happy sigh escaped your lips as you felt the plane reaching the ground of its destination. You swiftly grabbed your bag and left the plane to get the rest of your luggage.

A yawn escaped your mouth as you grabbed your stuff, staying awake during the whole flight probably wasn't your best idea, but you couldn't help it. To you it was simply impossible to fall asleep on a journey by plane.

Your eyes skimmed the airport as you were searching for your friend.

After a few minutes of looking around you decided to sit down and wait, he was probably still on his way to the airport.

Just as you decided to open up your phone you got smacked in the face... With a balloon? "What the hell?" You whispered as you were pulled up from your seat and embraced. "(Y/N)! Hey! I haven't seen you in forever"

You looked up a little confused as you reciprocated the hug. "Well hello to you too Seán"

He chuckled and grabbed one of your bags before dragging you with him. "How can you be so motivated and energetic?" You giggled and tried to keep up with your Irish friend. "That (Y/n), is simply because I'm not sleep deprived like you"

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Setting up his stream was a curly haired nervous mess. He was always nervous when he had to stream. But today was somehow worse.

The half Mexican ran his fingers through his hair. It was just a game with friends right? However, he had never played this game before.

His nerves getting to him caused Corpse to cancel the idea of a stream. "I'll just be there and play along, that's fine too. I don't need to stream every time I'm playing a game with my friends..." he muttered to himself.

With a bottle of water beside him he started the game and went through the tutorial. "Man this game is fucking cute" he laughed before joining the discord call, just to be engulfed in a complete chaos of voices.

"Hey Corpse is here! Hi hi!" A Swedish voice boomed through his headphones along with the rest of the group greeting him. "Hey guys" he replied as he joined their server in the game. "So what are we doing? Why is no one starti-" the deep voice started but was cut of by someone else.

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"HOLY FUCKING- Who the hell was that?! Hello by the way" The whole call erupted in laughter at the reaction of the (h/c) haired individual.

"Uhh hi, that was me" Corpse answered laughing as he scratched his head nervously "and you also just answered my question for me thank you, whoever you are" Everyone laughed once again.

"Okay but seriously who are you?" Dave asked.

"Jack! You said you told em that I'd join" you huffed as you glanced At your friend next to you, you were sharing one discord account for this call as you sat right next to each other and didn't want the quality of the call to go down because of an echo. Both of you streamed online on twitch.

"Whoops! I thought I did" he chuckled once more as he introduced you to the party. "Well then..." he coughed in an attempt to clear his throat "Drum-roll please! this is (Y/n), they came to visit me this weekend. (Y/n), that's Dave, Felix, Joel, PJ and Corpse."

"Hi" you said suddenly a little nervous because you thought everyone knew you'd join.

Luckily no one seemed to mind that you were here as they greeted you. In fact, they seemed ecstatic to meet you.

"So have any of you not played this before?" Pewds asked the group. "Uh yeah, me" Yours and the deep voice said simultaneously. "But I did the tutorial" Corpse added. "Well I didn't" you laughed. "Great then we're all set, shame on you though (Y/n)!" Seán shouted.

"Jeez man, you told me to skip it and I can hear you! I'm right next to you and not deaf in case you didn't know" you sassed back, causing laughter to bounce through your headset once more.

"(Y/n) and Corpse you two haven't played before that means you count as one person for the group things cause both of you are noobs and if you count as one we have even team numbers" The swede joked.

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"We're the Meowfia" Jack laughed, starting off with his puns for this game.

(Y/n) snorted at that as everyone chose the animals of their teams. Corpse chose the cat with an eye-patch along with his team. "Maan this is peer pressure!" Your voice called out "lucky for me I like cats"

"That is the truth" the Irish voice boomed through the call once again, "I mean you should see, even their headphones have cat ears"

"I wanna see that!" Dave shouted.

"Can we see them in your cam Jack?" PJ asked.

"Not completely, they're streaming on Twitch though, its at (Y/YT/N) on Twitch and YouTube" Seán smiled as he pat your back.

"You can't just expose me like that!" The cute voice answered panicking.

"I gotta see that, hold on!" Felix shouted as he opened up your stream smirking as he followed you. "Corpse, they'll ruin your life" he continued as your cheeks flushed a bright red, suddenly feeling so exposed and put on the spot "why...why am I ruining his life?" You asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Corpse had also opened up your account as he stared in awe at the enchanting individual now on his computer screen. Were you the one Jack had meant? No it couldn't be.

"Well you see, he wrote a song about cat girls ruining his life. Right Corpse?" This statement made him come back to reality and quite flustered at that "Huh? What-  ...ohhh uhm- uh- yeah" he responded in a stutter, the pale skin of his cheeks heating up and turning red.

"Corpse are you alright?" you asked, concern not only laced in your voice but also written all over your face, which he saw. This whole ordeal just made him blush more. There was a short pause "...Yeah.." the raven haired responded. But not even a second later a laugh erupted in the call "Did we just catch you right handed?" The voice belonged to Dave. "What do you mean?" Corpse asked confused. While he waited for a response from his friend, he started fiddling with his rings as he kept his eyes on (Y/N)'s stream which was still pulled up on his screen. "Well, did we catch you watching her stream?" Dave replied trying to hold in his laughter.

Your expression changed as your eyes went wide and you looked right at your camera "Is that true?" Your voice chimed in as a hint of pink spread across your cheeks, one of your eyebrows arched. "Well..." The man with the username 'CORPSE' cleared his throat "I had to see if Jack and Felix were speaking the truth..."

A smirk spread across your face "And? Were they honest?" you laughed as your Irish companion moved his face into the frame of your camera wiggling his eyebrows. The only answer you got to your question was silence before the deep voice continued "Alright let's start this game." Yet another laugh escaped your throat when you noticed the lack of a reply to your question. However, one could say that silence was an answer on its own.

■

■

■

The young guy sighed loudly after the game had ended, rolling back, away from his table, in his gaming chair he ran his hands through his curly hair. The game was fun, but it was exhausting for the man to concentrate on a game this long. Just as he was about to get up, turn all devices off and leave, he heard a familiar sound coming from his computer screen.

A discord call and video call at that was incoming from none other that Jacksepticeye. So, Corpse rolled forward in his chair again as he checked if his camera was turned off and covered. After reassuring himself that his face was hidden he accepted the call. "Hey whaddup?" He greeted his loud friend who immediately responded with a "Hey my man". His mismatched eyes widened as he looked at the screen, it was not only Jack on the call...they were there as well, a shy smile plastered on their face as they kept their eyes closed "Hey Corpse, tell me when your camera is off. Sean told me it might be on and I don't want you to accidentally expose yourself to me." "Oh yeah, it's off. You can open your eyes it's fine." Just as he finished his sentence their eyelids slowly fluttered open as they stared at the black screen and waved. There was no way to describe the feeling that went through him as he admired you in awe. He seemed starstruck and without thinking he blurted out "You have to visit San Diego sometime, but like soon"

Your eyes widened slightly not knowing how to respond to that "Umm...yeah I dunno, maybe someday?" Jack gasped dramatically "You never invited me over even though I'm the one you trusted enough to show your face to!"

Yet another time today, the male behind the black screen felt a blush grow on his face. "Well i-it's your fault for introducing me to your friend. And umm sorry if I was a bit too blunt there" He stuttered. "No it's fine. I'm a very spontaneous person ya know." You replied an embarrassed smile gracing your lips once more "But you could be a killer for all I know...sorry you probably hear that one a lot haha. Also, would you even be comfortable enough to meet up..." slowly you started drifting off with what you were saying. As soon as you realized you were trailing off of the topic at hand, you tried to get back to the conversation "ahem.. yeah, anyways as I was saying...someday sure. I mean...I am traveling around at the moment because I flew to Brighton. Maybe you know, we could get to know each other a bit better first" you smiled nervously as you replied.

"Ah yes...of course. Though I do have a question for you Seán. Is (Y/n) the one we spoke of a few days ago?" came back as a reply. He had a plan to gain their trust if they really were his suspected soulmate. The man next to (Y/n) nodded and gave a wink to the camera they used for the call. This action just confused you even more and it must have shown on your face because your loud friend started laughing at you. "Don't worry it was nothing bad" Jack reassured. "Hold on, is this about the random-" there was a lot of shuffling coming from the black screen. The noise had startled you a bit, causing you to stop mid sentence. "the random question about my eyes?" You continued your question, looking at that Irish friend of yours, but you didn't get a reply for there was another loud noise coming from Corpse's side of the screen. You shifted your attention back to the screen in front of you again just to be met with more shuffling and a sudden colour change of the screen. Your eyes widened as you saw a face only briefly for a split second before your vision suddenly changed. You looked around to see an unfamiliar room and as you saw the sight before your eyes you felt as though they were going to pop out of their sockets at any moment.

No...

No fucking way...

"Holy shit" you heard the words leave both your mouths. You just stared at the screen in front of you to see yourself, who apparently sat on the other side of the screen next to Seán. And you also saw the live view of a young man with black curly hair, dressed in black in a small window of the computer. You felt really dizzy all of a sudden and the light before your eyes went black briefly before returning to more used surroundings again.

Realisation dawned on you as you blinked a few times and spoke aloud "I-I just imagined that right? There's no way. C-Corpse you didn't happen to experience that right now, did-did you?"

"Holy fuck..." you heard a low mutter coming from the speakers.

Jack looked at you, eyebrows raised in confusion for a second before realization dawned on him and a knowing smirk appeared on his face as he shouted "CALLED IT!"

The two of you could not yet comprehend what was happening, let alone listen and realize what your mutual friend had to say.

After a few minutes of complete silence you tore your eyes away from the pen on Jack's desk, which had become the most interesting thing and perfect staring partner for the past minutes and shifted your gaze back to the young raven-haired individual before you, a small smile and a huge blush grazing your facial features as you spoke up, voice quiet and soft, but also full of nervousness "soo...umm...Corpse, are you gonna give me that address in San Diego?"

The question stood in the room for a few moments as silence engulfed you once again. Corpse's expression on his bright red face however, showed he was pondering."Y-yeah of course...sure...I-I'll text it to you if you give me that number of yours..." Then there was a pause. "Whe-When can I expect you then?"

This time it was your turn to think. "How about directly when you leave Brighton?" Jack chimed in. "But th-that's like in two days..." you stuttered in response. It was a nice idea and you did feel a pull to meet this handsome stranger as soon as possible. "Well yeah, that's the point is it not? I already checked for flights while you two where staring off somewhere....Sooo? Should I buy the ticket real quick? You can thank me later." Your mismatching eyes kept switching your gaze from your friend who had made this crazy suggestion and your apparent soulmate who now wore an eyepatch and was watching you expectantly while patiently awaiting your answer. A small sigh left your lips as you made your decision. When you tried to verbally answer though, your voice had left you, so you made eye-contact with the man also known as Corpse Husband, who had trusted you enough to reveal his face to you, and just gave him a small nod. He seemed to understand and gave you a reassuring smile.

"It's final then?" Seán, who had watched this whole ordeal unfold asked smiling happily as you just nodded once again "Y-yeah"

■

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■

Two days later you found yourself on yet another plane ride, but this time it was not to England, nor was its destination your home. You sat on your seat in silence, music which you couldn't concentrate on, blasting through your headphones while you  twiddled with your fingers, bouncing your leg up and down quickly. What were you gonna say? He would pick you up outside of the airport in order to avoid bumping into things when the view-switching-thing would happen.

■

■

■

Meanwhile, the faceless YouTuber had finished tidying up his apartment and prepared everything for your arrival. He would be lying if he said he didn't look you up on the socials to learn more about you.

About half an hour before the plane would land he drove off to your designated meeting spot. He arrived there 10 minutes early so he could mentally prepare himself. About 5 minutes later he put on his black face mask and exited his car. At first he was gonna wait for you here, but his nerves and heart got the better of him, so he made his way closer inside the airport building to meet you halfway. What he didn't know was that your plane would land early. So, as he made his way through the people, which was way out of his comfort zone already, he started to see black dots clouding his view, but suddenly he came from the other side. Oh no. The body kept walking until he saw himself in the crowd.

Your eyes met as you tried to navigate through the crowd of people, it was hard as you had to control your own body somehow even though you could only see what your soulmate would usually see. Finally you had gotten somewhat closer to one another and as you came to a halt, your bodies mere inches apart as your eyesight returned to your own again. You looked up at the man in front of you in awe. Your eyes were fixated on his as you noticed the (e/c) in his one eye fade away, just to be replaced by this beautiful shade of brown that was in his other eye. The colour you knew so well because you had seen it in the mirror in one of your own eyes everyday. "Your eyes" you whispered. He smiled in return "yours too..it's nice to meet you (Y/n). My soulmate. You are even more dazzling in person" he complimented. "I can't say anything else besides the same applies to you" You smiled in return as your face went red. "Well then...Shall we?" he grinned as he took one of your backpacks and started walking. "Hey! Wait up!" You laughed as you ran to catch up to your soulmate...

[annab-nana]

Bookshelf Confessions - Peter Parker

Peter and MJ are caught in the middle between a relationship and a friendship, a situationship if you will. There are definitely some feelings between the both of them, but when she overhears Peter talking to Ned about them in the library, she pulls you in to listen in with her and the conversation takes a turn you both didn’t expect.

A/N: Hi guys! So this was a late night tiktok inspiration. Here is the video I got it from and I changed the words up a bit to better fit how Peter would talk and to better describe MJ as well but anyway, I hope you enjoy! Oh also, if you guys really want it, I could do a part 2 to this but we will see :)

Part 1 of Books Tell Secrets and Lies

Warnings: some curse words

Word Count: 3.2k+

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“Ned, I need to talk to you,” Peter whispered to the boy as he grabbed his arm and pulled him between a couple of bookshelves in the library. School had just ended, and the mop of brown curls dragged his best friend all the way to the room filled with books and resources as soon as class had been dismissed.

Though it was a library and you were supposed to be silent, the way Peter was being exceptionally quiet and almost secretive obviously caught the eye of an observant and nosy Michelle Jones. She was about to join the pair, but upon noticing that her boyfriend—if you could even call him that—seemed to try to be hiding something from her, she stopped. If Peter ever had a problem, he would round all three of you guys up to discuss it, needing all of the brilliant sound minds of his buddies to help him make a decision. So, when he was only talking to Ned without you and her included, she got a weird feeling and hung back behind the shelf next to them to eavesdrop.

You were minding your own business as you searched for a book to write your English report—which you thought was ridiculous that you already had a big assignment to complete when it was only the second week into your senior year but that was a topic for another day—and you were walking past the aisles to find where the fiction books of author’s with the last name starting with Z would be found when a hand reached out to grip your arm and tug you into a nearby aisle. You were about to protest until you saw it was only your harmless yet curious best friend. Before you could open your mouth to ask why the hell she dragged you here, her hand quickly but silently covered your mouth, prohibiting you from speaking at all. Her other hand came up to her own mouth as she placed a finger in front of her lips signaling you to be quiet. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your phone.

Y/n: ??

She pointed towards the bookshelf and you heard the mumblings of one Peter Parker, the top of his head hard to miss when it was peering above the dusty books that lined the metal shelf.

You, MJ, Ned, and Peter made quite the friend group. Though you all were fairly different, your similarities brought you together and you loved having them by your side. What made it even better is that when MJ and Peter started their “relationship”, it didn’t mess up the dynamic at all. You all still hung out and you and Ned weren’t uncomfortable with their closeness at all, though you both did want to know if they were actually dating or not.

Since the Europe trip, they have been a lot closer. There was no denying that. You and Ned both have seen the stolen glances and holding hands under the lunch table. There was something going on there that they didn’t want to let on or they were just simply happy being together more often.

When you heard about Peter’s plan to woo MJ over the summer, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you were not a little disappointed. You were ecstatic for MJ, but your heart longed to be in her place. He had looked to you for help in making her swoon since you had been her best friend for years and while you would always help Peter no matter what, it hurt to see him in awe of another girl. Once you found out that MJ felt the same towards Peter and you knew his plan would work, you pushed those thoughts and feelings to the back of your mind, far where no one could find them. You had been a tad upset for a moment, but when you saw how happy they were, there was nothing more you could do but support them.

You still were confused as to why you both were hiding from your friends behind a bookshelf before MJ started typing furiously on her phone to text you.

MJ: peter is being hella sus and i wanna get to the bottom of it

Y/n: you little detective

MJ smirked at you as you both leaned in a little closer to hear better.

“I’ve been hanging out with MJ,” Peter started, running a hand through those beautiful chestnut curls and focusing on Ned who was smiling innocently and nodding along to the conversation. “Everybody thinks we’re dating because I spend my weekends hanging at her house and watching movies or whatever.”

“Yeah,” Ned chuckled, clueless to where the conversation was heading as were you. MJ had a deep feeling in her gut that it would lead to him telling Ned he wants to break up with her even though they were not actually together, but she wasn’t quite sure that was all he had to say.

“She’s on the decathlon team, one of the smartest people I know, and she’s could even be prom queen if she wasn’t so against it.” Both the boys lightly laughed at that as you all knew MJ too well. You had to hold back your giggle while you and MJ shared an amused look before continuing to listen in on the conversation.

“While we study chemistry, there’s a little more chemistry between us if you know what I mean,” you watched the bashful boy sputter while pink dusted his cheeks. You looked to MJ who found the floor to be much more interesting than your gaze at the moment.

‘You guys fucked? And you didn’t tell me,’ you mouthed after placing your fingers under her chin to make her look up at you. Her eyes widened and she shook her head profusely before mouthing back, ‘no, just made out a lot.’ That put your heart at ease a bit yet you still weren’t fond of it, but Peter’s next words caught the attention of you both.

“But I have a secret I must confess,” Peter sighed, eyes flitting down almost as if in shame. Your eyebrows furrowed while your puzzled expression met MJ’s worried one. Your hand reached out to grab hers and your thumb rubbed smoothly over her knuckles, a small gesture you knew provided her with much comfort and though she was trying not to show it, you knew she was getting anxious.

“It’s not her laugh or the way she’d dress. She’s not the reason I’ve been thinking about love,” he muttered with his head still down. Ned let out a light gasp at what he was hinting at and your heart broke for MJ. You tugged at her hand and tried to step forward to lead her out of the library, this conversation being one she did not need to hear, but she remained put. She gave you a sad nod as if saying ‘it’s okay y/n’, so you conceded and stayed with her for emotional support. But you knew the second she left, you would rip Peter a new one if she hadn’t done it first.

“Every weekend we hang out, I lose my cool when she’s around over stupid little things that shouldn’t even bother me,” Peter stated with a huff, angry with himself because of how he felt. If he could love MJ and not feel at war with himself and his feelings, then that is what he would do but he was growing tired of the constant battle in his head and in his heart. “And I don’t know if this is just a crush.”

So, he liked someone else for sure because that was the second time he mentioned something like that. You were growing angry with the boy and you knew that even if he possessed superhuman abilities, your rage would overpower him. Your eyes mixed with sadness and anger sought out MJ again to check on her. She was remaining closed off as always, but she had begun to open up a bit more recently and Peter’s actions were putting her back where she was.

“How do I find the words to tell her,” Peter paused, eyes darting around before meeting Ned’s, “that I’m in love with her best friend.”

You and MJ both stiffened and for some reason, you felt uncomfortable holding her hand now. You were doing it to comfort her as you always have, but you were the girl her ‘boyfriend’ was in love with. Your wide eyes remained trained on Peter and Ned as you waited for them to further confirm your suspicions.

“Y/n?” Ned gawked at his best friend. He had zero clue that Peter felt like this, but he did know you had a small crush on Peter when y’all were formulating the plan to get MJ to fall in love with him. Ned had seen the way you looked at Peter and one day, he saw the tears that brimmed your eyes before you excused yourself to the bathroom, Peter too focused on perfecting each step to see that you were distraught. Ned left as well to go ‘get something from his locker’ and he found you fanning your eyes dry and blowing some air out to calm yourself.

“You like him, don’t you?” Ned questioned as you turned around to hide your embarrassment. You were crying over Peter Parker while helping him get with your best friend. It was silly.

“Hey,” he spoke calmly as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to hide from me. I saw the tears before you left but y/n, why are you helping him with this if you know he will end up with someone else? Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Yes, it hurts like hell but what am I supposed to do? Tell him I like him?” you spoke sarcastically but of course, he took it literally.

“Yes! That’s exactly what you should do,” he encouraged while you shook your head.

“I can’t do that to him, Ned. He is head over heels in love with MJ. Anyone with eyes can see that and though she will not let anyone know, I can tell she has a crush on him too so who am I to get in the way of that? They will be happy together and I will get over him. I will be okay, Ned,” you told him as you quickly wiped away your tears.

“Promise you’ll be okay?” Ned inquired, holding out a pinky for you to link yours with his. The childish act made you smile, and you did just that.

“I promise as long as you don’t tell him.” Ned nodded in agreement and you two unlinked pinkies. “Now I am gonna actually go to the bathroom to make sure I look fine, and I’ll be back,” you informed him before heading into the restroom.

“Yeah, Ned. I fucked up. I am going to ruin the whole group and their friendship. MJ will hate me and so will y/n for hurting MJ,” he sighed, leaning against the shelf to his right and keeping his eyes down. He felt so bad for this, but this was how he felt and he could not keep lying to MJ.

“Peter, you’re an idiot if you think they’re gonna let you ruin their friendship. They were best friends before you and they will be best friends after you too. You’re starting to sound like Flash,” Ned giggled while Peter shot him a glare, quietening him for a moment. “Sorry, but you should’ve come to this revelation back in June. Things would’ve been a lot easier.”

You had forgotten that they didn’t know you were there, and MJ was about to hear that you had been in love with her fling for a while and didn’t tell her. Again, you tried to get her to leave to spare her from hearing any more, but her feet remained planted. She was not going anywhere and if she wasn’t, you weren’t either. So, you stayed and listened beside her.

“What do you mean by that?” Peter quizzed and Ned’s eyes widened, realizing that he said too much. He let out a sigh before giving in and telling him.

“Y/n’s... kinda been in love with you since before the summer. I don’t know how much before, but she liked you when we were planning how to get MJ to fall in love with you during the Europe trip. I saw her tear up once and then I found out.”

MJ’s hand dropped from your own, her face reading shock and hurt when you looked at her. You felt like shit and you hadn’t really done anything wrong. Maybe you should have told her that you used to have a crush on Peter, but it seemed irrelevant since they were closer, and you never stood a chance so why add drama when it wasn’t needed? She took a couple of steps back before walking to leave the library, leaving you to follow.

“MJ, wait,” you called after her, but she was long gone. Tears filled your eyes as you watched your best friend storm away through the hall where you stood from the library’s entrance. You could have followed her further, but you knew MJ and you knew she’d rather be alone right now.

“Y/n...” you heard the faint voice of Peter whisper from behind you, a warm hand clasping over your shoulder as you turned to look at his freckled face. Under any other circumstances, you would’ve been thrilled to hear that Peter had liked you back, but your best friend’s heart was broken by him because of you as well and you just wanted it all to be fixed.

“You really had to tell him. I promised you I’d be okay if you didn’t tell him,” you spoke to Ned, choosing to ignore Peter’s presence in front of you for the moment.

“I’m sorry. It slipped and I couldn’t get out of it. I didn’t know you guys were right there.” He was right. It was not completely his fault. You two were invading on their privacy. You can’t help what you hear.

“Y/n,” Peter repeated, and your tear-brimmed eyes snapped to his honey brown ones.

“What?” You did not mean to come off angry, but you were aggravated to say the least.

“Are you okay?” he asked genuinely. The softness of his voice and eyes were pulling you in but you were so irritated with him at the same time.

“No,” you whispered, breaking your promise to Ned as he did to you. Peter stepped forward to hug you but your hand on his chest stopped him. “You can’t comfort me anymore. Do you realize what you have done? You have broken MJ’s heart, a heart I didn’t know was capable of breaking. If she sees us hugging, that will just drive the knife in deeper. You hurt me by dragging me into the middle of all this and because I didn’t tell her that I liked you, she probably hates me too.”

Saying that last little bit broke your heart. Your best friend probably hated you. Your crush liked you back, but you could not be with him which was more infuriating than longing for him from afar. You felt angry, upset, and exposed as your biggest secret was out. All the emotions whirled within you and you did let a few tears fall.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. This was not my intention nor how I wanted this to go at all. I’m so sorry,” he softly spoke before trying to hug you again as he desperately wanted to comfort you. He hated to see you upset. This time, you let him. You let your arms circle his waist and your head cry into his chest. You let him wrap his arms around your neck and press his lips to your head, something he had always done when trying to calm you down. You felt like you would have no friends left if you pushed Peter away so why do it? The reason why you should have spoke up and broke you two apart in an instant.

“Wow,” she muttered, saddened brown eyes dancing between you and Peter. “I came back because I wanted to talk this out before I stayed in my room and was left alone in my head, but you know what? I don’t really feel like talking anymore.”

“No! MJ, wait! Please!” you tried to stop her but her cold eyes and raised hand warned you to give it a rest.

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to talk but until then leave me the hell alone.” And with that, her head of unruly brown crinkles and curls left the building of Midtown for the weekend.

The interaction made you feel even worse as a sob bubbled up your throat. You had never been like this with MJ, and you were scared you were going to lose her forever. Your hand flew to your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound of you crying and Peter was quick to wrap his arms around you again, but now, you shoved him away.

“No, Peter! Can’t you see what this has done? We can’t be together. I don’t want to see you until MJ and I are on good terms and maybe not even then. I just...” you backed away towards the door, “I need to be alone. Ned, I’ll text you later.”

Ned nodded at you with a sad smile and held his pinky up toward you, his silent way of asking if you were okay similar to the promise you two had made months ago. While the action caused your lips to turn upwards only slightly, you shook your head to answer the question. He understood and he and Peter both watched you leave as well.

“Well, I guess I was wrong. You can come between their friendship,” Ned spoke up, trying to lighten the mood with a joke that was way too soon for Peter to enjoy if he ever would.

“Ned, not now. I’ve accidentally broken two girls’ hearts and they both happened to be my best friends. I feel like shit,” he groaned, rubbing a frustrated hand down his face. “I’m just gonna go on patrol to distract myself and then swing home.”

“Okay well, I’m gonna bring this to y/n and check on her before going home. I’d check on MJ too, but she scares me so I’ll just text or call her later,” Ned chuckled while holding up a copy of The Book Thief, the exact book you were hunting prior to the whole fiasco. “But you need to figure out what to do. You can’t ruin their friendship. I understand if they don’t want to be friends with us, but you can’t tear them apart.”

“I know, I know. I really fucked up,” Peter huffed while stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do but I’m going to fix this.”

“You better,” Ned stated before he left the school himself. Now all of his friends had left and were angry with him in different ways. He crushed MJ’s heart and then he crushed yours even more by unintentionally making your best friend hate you. Ned was more disappointed than angry, and he felt bad himself for spilling your secret. This whole thing was a huge mess that Peter had to fix to bring his favorite people back together and he was beginning to wish he had just kept his mouth shut in the first place.

Part 2: A Chemical Aquaintance ->

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[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Chapter 4

⚠WARNING: Swearing, mention of previous characters' deaths

• ────── ✾ ────── •

“I just don’t get why no one wants to help me plan the shrine visit and picnic lunch.” Oikawa pushes his now-empty plate away and turns his head. You share a look with Makki and Mattsun.

“We just don’t want to get in the way of your vision.” Mattsun replies. “You’re the most creative of us all and we don’t want to bog you down.”

Oikawa only glances towards Mattsun before glancing at you and Makki. You both put on your most sincere faces, hoping to placate your irritated friend. It seems to do the trick, as he huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Well of course I’m the most creative. I guess I can plan everything and tell you all what to do.”

You smile at Oikawa, nodding. “That sounds good.” You enjoy the last bit of your dinner, keeping your eyes on your plate.

Since Hajime’s passing, there’s been a visible gap in your friend group. It’s not a gap that can easily be replaced or filled, but the balance of your group has been thrown way off course.

Makki and Mattsun try to lighten things up with jokes but most of the time they fall flat. And it’s not fair to always depend on them to keep the mood light when they can’t muster the energy to do it.

Most of the time you’ve remained silent on the outings. You’ll laugh at the jokes from Makki and ask everyone about their days, but nine times out of ten you’re hindered by the absence of Hajime to make meaningful conversation.

Surprisingly, the most consistent of your friends is Oikawa. But since there’s no Iwa-chan to reign him in, he has become the leader of your group - making plans, driving conversation and trying to keep your group from falling apart. The only problem is that Oikawa has utilized more...forceful tactics to get what he wants.

“For lunch tomorrow we’ll have to meet somewhere by the gym because I have training in the afternoon.” Oikawa states later, while everyone is leaving the restaurant. “And we have to get salads or something similar, I can’t eat anything heavy before.”

You send a quick glance to Mattsun, pleased to see Makki holding his boyfriend’s hand tightly. Of everyone Mattsun is the one who snaps back against Oikawa the most, unwilling to deal with his antics. Makki is the best at keeping him calm while you would try to keep Oikawa from escalating the issue.

“Oh, I can’t meet tomorrow, sorry. I’m getting lunch with my friend.”

Your friends all give you questioning looks - Makki and Mattsun look more excited (and ready to tease you if necessary.) But Oikawa narrows his eyes.

“Is this the same friend you ditched us for lunch yesterday and today?” His tone is accusatory and you inwardly sigh. So it’s going to be this kind of night.

“Yes.” You don’t want to beat around the bush but you don’t want to antagonize your friend with smart-ass answers. “He wanted to get lunch again so I agreed, I wouldn’t if we were planning on getting lunch.”

Oikawa scoffs. “You should always plan on getting lunch with us, Y/N.”

“Oikawa I think you’re skipping over an important detail.” Makki steps in, inadvertently stopping Oikawa from going off on you. But before you can relax he turns to you with a shit-eating grin. “You’re meeting with a guy?”

Shit.

Mattsun appears over Makki’s shoulder, giving a similar smirk. “Please elaborate, Y/N-chan. Who are you meeting with?”

“And when can we expect an introduction?”

You give Makki an annoyed look at his extra question. “His name is Osamu, and we worked on a project together for one of our classes. We worked well together so we decided to get lunch. It’s no big deal.” Your last sentence is directed to Makki and Mattsun, both waggling their eyebrows.

Despite their childish behavior you’d take it every day over Oikawa’s snide attitude.

“Osamu, huh?” Oikawa looks down at you with his head tilted to the side questionably. “How come this is the first we’ve heard about him?”

You shrug. “It’s no big deal, Oikawa. Don’t be a jerk.”

“Hey I’m just wondering why you never wanted to tell us about him.” He held his hands up innocently. “Are you keeping other secrets from us perhaps?”

You feel your eyes narrow and you can’t help but let a little venom into your words. “I’m not keeping secrets, Oikawa. Osamu and I worked on a project together, he found out about Hajime and I found out that he lost his twin brother, so maybe I’ve found another friend who I can relate to.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen marginally at the mention of Hajime and he doesn’t reply. His hands lower and he looks off to the side. You see Makki and Mattsun stiffen before Mattsun steps closer to his boyfriend.

It’s no wonder that people tell you not to joke about death or dying. It’s easy for people who haven’t understood how devastating the loss of a loved one is to make those simple jokes, because they’ve never experienced the instant the mood of a group plummets. It’s a powerful weapon, made to bring the strongest down a few notches. It’s one you wouldn’t ever use unless absolutely necessary, and even this time mentioning how you and Osamu were able to bond over your shared trauma was a slip made out of anger. But it was effective in shutting Oikawa up.

“Oh.” Makki says into the stifling silence. Oikawa still hasn’t looked away from the ground and now you feel guilty again for bringing the mood down. Twice in two days is not a record you wanted to make. Makki speaks up again. “That’s so sad, how did you find out about that?”

Here is where you hesitate, because you can’t say that you were texting Hajime’s old phone number and serendipitously the stranger receiving those messages not only is a student at the same university you attend but also lost someone close to him, and you agreed to meet with him for coffee after five minutes of your “meeting.”

“I think it just came up organically,” you reply, hoping you sound somewhat nonchalant with your fabricated explanation. “I don’t really remember the conversation exactly.”

“Huh.” Mattsun says. “Well if you guys are going to hang out more maybe see if he wants to come to our group therapy sessions. The next one’s in a few days.”

At this Oikawa whips his head up and glares at Mattsun. He doesn’t say anything in response to Mattsun’s suggestion but he looks livid. Mattsun in turn meets Oikawa glare with his signature, unaffected gaze.

“Okay, we’re gonna head out now.” Makki grabs his boyfriend’s arm and steers him towards their apartment. “Oikawa, we’ll text you about lunch tomorrow. Y/N, I want all the details from your ~date~”

“It’s not a date!” You call, but Makki doesn’t reply save for a little hand wiggle he sends over his shoulder. You sigh out loud and shake your head at your friends’ antics.

You turn to your silent companion, who has taken to glaring at the ground again. “Are you ready to leave?” He doesn’t answer you, not even nodding in agreement, but he stands straight and you both move together towards your apartment buildings.

Oikawa speaks up after a few blocks of walking in silence. “Did Osamu really lose his brother?”

“Excuse me?” You turn to your friend, appalled at such a question. “Are you really fucking asking if he was lying?”

“I’m just looking out for you.” Oikawa doesn’t meet your angry gaze but his voice has lost its disapproving tone. “Some idiots will lie to get sympathy or try to connect and get closer to you. It’s fucked up.”

Still feeling aggravated you turn forward and roll your shoulders. “I guess. But you didn’t see him. You’d have to be blind to take one look and think he’s okay.” His tired face pops into your head again, the look of a person just trying to scrap by one day at a time. It hurts to think about.

“Do you like him?”

You turn back to your friend, angry again, to see him giving you a calculated look. There’s something else there too, almost something like indignant hurt.

You know why he’s looking at you like that and it makes something in your stomach twist.

Oikawa is the only other person to know of your love for Hajime. He pried it from you years ago but had sworn on his own hair products that he wouldn’t tell a soul. In spite of Oikawa’s general obnoxiousness and seemingly fictitiousness, deep down he’s a very loyal friend. And even though he knew one of your deepest secrets, you knew it was safe with him.

But he badgered you for days on end to confess to Hajime and every time you told him no. He was annoyingly persistent, but not once did he say well what now? after Hajime passed.

You missed that annoying weirdo. You don’t like the possessive, mean and cruel Oikawa that’s taken his place.

“I don’t like him like that, Oikawa.” You say now, turning back ahead first this time. “He’s just a friend.”

You feel Oikawa’s gaze on you still but you don’t look back. He doesn’t say another word to you, save for a short remark when you leave to go into your apartment building.

“Have fun on your date tomorrow.”

He drops that line and walks away, leaving you to stare after your friend with your gut twisting.

Why does he have to do this?

Insecurity, jealousy, anger, depression - maybe a mix of all four and more. It’s partly why you’re giving him a pass for now.

Your phone pings when you get into your apartment, and you feel the tension from the day leave your body when you lock the door. You feel wrung out and you honestly just want to sink to the floor and just lay there.

Before you give into your urge to become one with the floor you pull your phone out to see who texted you.

If it’s Oikawa I’m going to flush my phone down the toilet.

But you’re pleasantly surprised to read the screen and not see it was Oikawa who messaged you. You unlock your phone to read the text, feel a smile tug at your lips and send a reply back.

Glancing down at the floor, it suddenly doesn’t look as appealing as it did before. You walk through the apartment, heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: And we get a bit more of a glimpse into Y/N's friend group, and the dynamic is.......not ideal. Hopefully the friends can work through their problems and help each other......anyway, thank you for reading!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito

[butwhatifidothis]

I also think that part of the reason why the church gets so much hate is because of how much general distrust there is in organized religion in real life. Like I went into Three Houses trying to keep an open mind and during White Clouds I really couldn't see what was so heinously wrong with the church even during the Lonato thing that made the institution so much worse than what Edelgard was inciting. I could be totally wrong but I was under the impression that Rhea didn't squash the insurrection because they were a part of the Western Church but because they were actively rebelling and, on top of that, Lonato was bringing civilians into the conflict. That, along with the fact that Rhea knows for an absolute fact that the goddess existed and that she herself is old as dirt (trauma included) makes her decisions make a lot of sense.

I'm playing through AM with my friend who's never played before and they IMMEDIATELY said they distrusted the church because Jeralt doesn't like Rhea (for understandable reasons but my friend also ignored his very sus behavior of not explaining literally anything to Byleth) and because organized religions must be inherently bad.

It’s something that’s heavily related to a player’s inability to separate the reality of their specific circumstances with those of the fiction they’re consuming. They implant their experiences onto things that are only somewhat related and then extrapolate “facts” about the fiction that are, many times, actively shut down and/or disproven by that fictions lore or story or plot.

And, like, it’s normal to relate fictional things to your personal stories if you see connections to them. I’d wager a good amount of people find some aspect of a character they like/love that sticks out to them specifically because of a similarity they share of some kind, whether big or small. I know of people who’s fave superhero is The Flash because The Flash is fast and they ran track and hey, that’s cool, a superhero who’s ability is running really fuckin’ fast and I wanna be really fuckin’ fast. To use myself as an example, I can relate to the struggles Claude specifically has with race because many of the things he says correlate very well to my personal experiences with race. So, going by that line of logic, the opposite is clearly going to happen as well; there are many villains, or characters of either or neither allegiance towards good and evil, who have traits that personally affect someone in a negative way.

But here’s the thing about that... Claude and I have similar experiences with race. He’s still a prince, and I’m still someone who’s never seen above the poverty line in terms of income. He’s never had to live off a box of Whoppers he happened to find under his bed for three days to hold off until the food stamps come in because there’s just no food and no money to get any food. And on the flip side, I’ve never had people try to kill me just cuz I’m mixed. I’ve never felt the pressure of having to lead thousands of people to safety or have them die, directly due to my inability to lead them well enough. We still have extremely different lives and I can acknowledge those differences when looking into his character, regardless of whatever connection I may have with him otherwise, and that’s where these people fail in terms of critically consuming 3H as a piece of media.

These people - understandably, to an extent - look at Rhea, this devout religious woman who heads a major religious institution, and they automatically connect the language she uses as a devout religious person to the negative experiences they personally had with religion... without acknowledging the differences between the two. They see Rhea and they don’t see a bisexual who surrounds herself with and gives shelter to former criminals, foreigners, and people in need of a home while asking for little in return - they see their local pastor, or some other religious leader/person, who’ve done them wrong, and thus Rhea hates gay people, she hates POC, she’s a zealot and unreasonable and she’s this terrible person with no redeeming qualities. And this isn’t me arm-chair psychology-ing these people - they poke fun at themselves about how much they let their personal experiences cloud their judgement of the game and its characters with bingo cards for liking Edelgard having “raised with religion” be one of the slots and things like that. 

And really, why else would “religious institution led by white-presenting race of people” be automatically turned into “racist, homophobic, misogynistic, and violent to any who aren’t their religion” when 1) one of the main characters - the one calling Rhea racist - himself eventually says that racial diversity fits well and snug in the Seiros faith, 2) not only is the leader and founder of the religion a bisexual woman, but no one says anything about having their love be confined to one specific gender anywhere, with heavily coded LGBT relationships like Shamir+Catherine and Dorothea+Petra being just as LGBT coded in SS - where Rhea can potentially come back as archbishop - as anywhere else - hell, when one of the most devout followers of Rhea clearly is romantically interested in her and faces no repercussions or consequences for openly being so despite being female herself, and 3) the Church only ever uses violence when either called from the outside for help or forced to when outside forces try to attack them? Why are we hearing all of these awful things about the Church when it sometimes is never even implied? 

It’s in large part due to religion being such a sensitive part of people’s lives that they are unable to disconnect their personal experiences with religion with the fictional religion the media they’re interacting with provides them. Rhea, as a devout religious leader, especially with how genuinely morally gray she is, was never going to land well over here in the west, double especially to an audience of people that very clearly are already inclined to ignore pieces of the game’s story, lore, plot, and character interactions to fit their own preferred version of what’s happening. Triple fuckin’ wombo-combo especially since the game itself fails to do Rhea any favors until the literal last second of two out of four routes and only shove in her directly admitting she was wrong in her actions in the hardest support chain to build up in the entire game, and even then only at the last part of it. Poor girly didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell

[moonbeambucky]

I Promise (Part 1/2)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader Word Count: 4106 Warnings: fluff, smut, pregnancy

Summary: Before heading to Mars Chris Beck reconnects with his best friend, unaware of the outcome of their night together. With the burden of his mission will Chris make a promise he can’t keep?

A/N: My first Chris Beck fic! Rather than a really long one shot I’m splitting it into two parts. A big thank you to my love Allie @all1e23​​​ for beta reading 🍕❤️ gif source (x)

“Hey.”

The soft resonance of Chris’ voice brings tears to your eyes, ones you couldn’t help from slipping out. They fall down the curve of your cheeks past the uneasy smile you wore.

“I kept my promise,” he said. Chris flashed the top row of his bright white teeth, his mouth curving into a boyish smile that reached his eyes, the fine lines crinkling around them. He tilted his head as he looked at you through the screen, a comforting gaze that made you feel as if he was there with you. 

The quality of the video chat is near perfect making you almost forget Chris was millions of miles away. He looked the same, not that you expected him to look different. It had only been a few months since you last saw each other. 

His hair looks darker than usual but you suppose it’s the low lighting of the small room he’s in. He’s bundled up in a thick NASA sweatshirt and you can see several more layers he has on beneath the collar. Chris looks tired but that’s expected, what he’s doing right now is not a walk in the park. You know it’s the reason why it’s taken so long for him to contact you but you wish he did it sooner. 

More tears flood your eyes, burning their way out as you wished he never left at all. You can barely hear Chris over the sound of your own sobs.

“Please don’t cry,” he pleaded.

You lifted your head towards the screen and seeing the concern on his face only made you miss him more, wishing he was there to console you in person.

Your hand swept away tears from your cheek as your voice cracked saying his name. “Chris…” 

The streets are simmering with the heat of a summer that couldn’t wait to officially start. Calendars be damned, it was hot. You indulged in a cool shower when you got home from work but time didn’t allow for a languid evening of staying in your towel as you applied serums and moisturizers, lotions and creams and every other post-shower pampering you normally do. Tonight was dinner with a friend and you needed to get ready.

Chatter filled the air of the patio, a small secluded outdoor space at the back of an Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side. It had an Old World Tuscan feel, from the stucco walls that looked purposely imperfect. Green patina shutters hung beside a wrought iron lantern that glowed in the early evening. Lush greens and bright flowers sat atop the half wall that surrounded the dining area making you forget you were in the city.

Chris looked the same, not that you expected him to be different. It had only been about two years since you’ve seen each other, right before he began training for his mission and now you can’t believe it was about to happen. Never would you have expected that the little boy down the block who became your best friend would actually be going to Mars.

For most of your lives you were in the same school, starting in Mrs. Kramer’s kindergarten class where you stuck together; two kids that were nervous about making friends and finding comfort in each other. As the years went on you weren’t always in the same classes but your friendship continued to grow. Chris was picked on for having a girl as a best friend and the girls always teased that he was your “boyfriend.” It never felt that way with Chris. He was your friend first and you never saw him as anything more. 

By the time you were in middle school Chris was already taking advanced classes in math and science and the only class you had together was art which he was famously terrible at. It was there you asked him a huge favor, whispering to him at the sink as you rinsed off your paint brushes. “Could you kiss me?” Chris turned as red as a boiling lobster, immediately sweating as if he was being roasted alive himself. It was later that day walking home from school that you clarified what you meant.

There was a boy, Justin Kaufman, who was the coolest kid in your grade. You had a crush on him like everyone else and you were shocked when he asked if you would go with him to the dance on Friday. You were worried he might try to kiss you and being inexperienced made you nervous. Justin was really popular and if you were a bad kisser then the whole school would know it. Chris was your friend, someone you trusted, someone you could practice with just to make sure you didn’t make a fool of yourself. 

You had no frame of reference for kissing back then apart from one sided smooches to pictures of movie stars that you had a crush on. But feeling Chris’ lips press back against yours was… nice. The best part about it was that things didn’t feel awkward after. Chris was still your best friend and nothing changed. 

A server hands you a menu and you thank him, scanning through it to see what you might be interested in. Chris looks up at the same time you do, wondering if you wanted an appetizer.  You nodded letting him choose, considering the limited food options he’ll have for over the next year. 

“Can you drink?”

Chris’ nose crinkled as he smiled. “In space? No. Tonight? Yes,” he chuckled softly. 

Two glasses of red wine were set on the table as you indulged in delicious food, catching up as much as you could before Chris’ mission. 

“So you’d love what happened today,” you began, leaning closer, “We filmed a restoration video and yours truly was in it.”

Chris’ eyes lit up as he gasped. “I love those! You have to send it to me. Hopefully I can see it before I go. What was it?”

“A sixteenth century European oil painting.” You went into detail and Chris loved listening to your knowledge of art history. It was no wonder that was your major, taking your studies further to work as a conservator at the Met.

Chris swallowed his food quickly to speak. “You were always good at that– art, attention to detail. Remember when we had to sculpt our own faces?” he chuckled.

There was a short burst of laughter as you remembered that day from so long ago. “Yes! Thankfully the real you doesn’t look anything like that abomination you made.” 

Chris drops his head down to hide a bashful smile that mixed in with laughter. He’s enjoying himself, catching up with you, eating. This was so good. He couldn’t help but scoop up another forkful of pasta, not expecting you to ask him a question. “So, how are you feeling?”

He paused to reflect and wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth. “I’m nervous… excited.” Taking a sip of wine, he sets the glass down carefully on the table. Chris’ face has grown more serious. “My mom’s worried.”

“Of course she is, I don’t blame her. I’m worried. Mars is… well it’s Mars! It’s not around the block.”

He chuckled. “No, it’s definitely not.” 

Chris is heading home to Connecticut tomorrow to spend the next few days with his parents. Chloe, his younger sister is coming in as well so they can all spend some time together before he has to fly down to Florida.

“Then it’s go for launch!” he said with a beaming smile, though Chris had to correct himself for the sake of accuracy. Once he’s down there the crew has to quarantine for at least ten days and go through a bunch of pre-flight checkups and procedures first. “Are you gonna watch?”

The incredulous look you gave him answered his question. “Did you really have to ask? Of course I’m going to watch the launch.” 

His eyes twinkled as he smiled back at you. “Oh and don’t worry I put you on my contact list so you can send me emails. Not sure how quickly I'll get them since CAPCOM directs it back to us. And as long as we have the right satellite coverage we can even do video calls.”

“Like Facetime?”

“In theory yeah, more like space Skype,” he laughed. “It’ll be nice to stay in touch.”

Your smile was bright in the dimness of the evening. You can’t imagine not staying in touch with Chris. The longest you had ever gone was during his Air Force training. He checked in with his parents when he first arrived and from then on it was sporadic. You were able to send him letters though and tried to write him every week though your own schooling and an apprenticeship at the Louvre had taken up a lot of time but that was how your relationship was. 

No matter where you were in life, across the world or hovering above it in the International Space Station, you always kept in touch. It’ll be harder now considering he’s going farther than ever before but you’ll make it work. 

Chris would be back by next November and his mom was already planning a big party for his return, one he’s certain you’ll be invited to. Though you haven’t seen his parents in a while you still kept in touch with them from time to time seeing as they were still friends with your own parents.

“It’s crazy to think you’re about to go to Mars.” 

Chris swipes a palm down his mouth, leaning his elbows against the table as he muses, “I know. Feels like I got the call yesterday.”

It was a night similar to this one, where Chris was in New York celebrating with you and other friends on his selection to be part of the Ares III mission. He had been working at NASA for a few years, doing biomedical research in their center in Virginia and now he was about a month out from spending two years training for his long term mission to Mars. 

He stayed at your apartment that night, continuing the celebration in your own private way. You had come a long way from learning to kiss with Chris. It wasn’t a big deal, neither was it the first time you had sex with each other. It was a special dynamic that worked for the two of you, one you don’t think you could have pulled off with anyone else. With Chris you had trust that was built up over the years. He was safe, he was your friend and this was nothing more than just sex. 

It didn’t happen too often, a couple of times here and there. You both dated a few people over the years and even though you were single at the moment you thought about the promise you made to each other as teens. “If we’re not married to other people by the time we’re thirty let’s promise we’ll marry each other.” Such a silly promise but thirty seemed so far away at the time. 

Chris couldn’t make it to celebrate for your thirtieth birthday but you did get a card from him where he joked that the wedding was off. You were in a long term relationship, one that Chris thought would lead to marriage but you ended things a year later. It wasn’t there; that natural spark that made your heart skip a beat every time they smiled brighter than the sun, or when their eyes sparkled like stars in the night every time they looked at you. 

You walked through the streets with Chris after dinner, casually strolling back towards your apartment and stretching out the inevitable goodbye that you didn’t want to say. It was so good to be with him in person again, not realizing how badly you missed it until the hours started ticking closer towards him leaving. By the time you get to your apartment Chris decided to come up stairs, wanting to spend as much of his time with you as he could. 

Chris sits comfortably on your couch, cozied up beside a large pillow. He places his wine glass down on your coffee table, needing to gesticulate with both hands as he starts getting into talking about his research. He’s been published before in numerous academic journals and now he’s going on about how excited he is for his latest topic, musculoskeletal alterations and the effects of deep space travel. 

He’s cute when he really gets into it, crinkles pulling around the corner of his eyes as his whole face lights up. You let out a shaky breath, smiling even wider yourself as you watched the passion he had for science and learning, one that matched the level you had for art and preserving their history. 

Chris apologized for rambling on, taking a sip of wine to clear the dryness from his throat. 

“So, give me the lowdown… can you jerk off in space?” 

He covered his mouth to prevent the wine he was choking on from spitting out. You couldn’t help the sly smile on your face that cracked wider the redder he became. 

“Well?”

Chris cleared his throat again. Pinching the bridge of his nose he looked down into his glass, chuckling a bit as he said, “The official stance from NASA is no comment so I’m going to stick with that.” 

“That’s not an answer!” You could barely hold a faux sneer before you broke into a smile. Teasing Chris was all in good fun, something that went both ways from the time you were young. 

You adjusted the way your legs were folded underneath you, brushing your knee against his leg. Chris lifted his arm up, a silent invitation for you to get closer and so you did, resting your head against him as his arm came around you.

Things had quieted down and you listened to the steady beat of his heart. This would be the last time you would see Chris for a long time. Your arm reached around to hold him for as long as you could.

“I’m going to miss you,” you whispered against him. 

Chris’ chest sunk as he exhaled a deep sigh. “I’m going to miss you too.” His arm squeezed a little tighter around you as he pressed his lips gently against your forehead. “Just look to the stars and I’ll be there.” 

His words brought a comforting smile to your face, one you shared with him as you tilted your head to look up at him. “Do you want to stay?”

The corner of his mouth tugs a little as Chris thinks about it. There’s nothing he really misses at his hotel more than he does you. The only reason he came to New York was to see you first before going home. 

“Yeah, I’d love to stay.”

You shifted yourself on top to straddle Chris, carding your fingers through his hair and taking in the gaze of his eyes that became pools of deep blue. You closed the distance between your lips, feeling his hands come around your back. Soft moans bubbled in your throat and soon you found yourself being carried to the bedroom. 

Clothes were discarded, lips were on skin that burned hotter than the stars. You writhe against him, thighs quivering around his head, reaching out to grip him by the hair, holding Chris in place as he coaxed out your release. His lips taste like you and he licks them again, savoring your sweetness as he crawls up your body. 

He tears open the condom, gathering your wetness on him as he slowly pushed in. A sinful moan falls from your lips as you feel the stretch of him inside you, inch by inch until he was fully seated. An experimental roll of his hips sets the pace for pleasure. 

Your hands graze up the curve of his arms, reaching his back and digging in half moon shapes into his skin with your nails as he thrusts into you.

“Ahh fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he panted, moaning as his hips snapped forward. His name fell from your lips, a sweet sound that he couldn’t deny he loved hearing. 

He changed his angle, hitting you with deeper, longer strokes. His mouth found your nipple, sucking at your peak as his hips gained speed; groaning and squeezing his eyes tightly as he fucked you, ready to explode.

“Shit!” Chris hissed, backing off quickly. You’re confused and concerned, sitting up and turning the light on beside your bed to see what was wrong. “The condom broke,” he said, still catching his breath.

Chris got up to discard it in the bathroom as you sat on the bed, crossing an arm over your chest, waiting nervously. When Chris walked back in the room he apologized for that, the stiffness of his length giving you relief that he hadn’t finished so you continued. Using your hands on him as he let out soft moans, distractedly opening another condom that you rolled down on him. You straddled him, leaning forward to capture his lips for a sweet kiss first before you lined yourself up and sank down on him. 

Soon enough you were riding waves of bliss together, gripping Chris as you clenched around him, burning white hot behind your eyes. He’s right behind you, on the edge of pleasure, exploding inside you like a supernova.

Dropping your head onto his chest, it felt like your body was made of overcooked noodles that splayed loosely against him as you were desperate to catch your breath, coming down from the heights you soared to. Chris’ arms hold you close against him, his lips languidly peppering kisses to your sheen covered skin. 

When his heartbeat returned to a steady pace Chris went to the bathroom to once again discard the condom and you followed behind him to use it. He went to the kitchen to get something to drink, bringing back an ice cold glass of water for you. 

Back in bed you cuddled together, with goosebumps breaking out on your skin as Chris’ fingertips graze gently up and down your arm. Your eyes feel heavy but you don’t want to give in because when you wake up you know you’ll have to say goodbye and that’s not something you want to do. 

“You’ll stay in touch, right?” you murmured against him, as worry took root within your stomach. His quick and emphatic reply should have been enough but you couldn’t help yourself from needing to make sure you would still hear from him during the mission. “And call me? With the space Skype?”

“I promise,” he said, as a smile spread across his face. Chris’ hand stopped moving, settling on your arm and holding you close. 

“Promise me one more thing?” He hummed in response and you continued, “Stay safe up there.”

Chris tilted his head down and feeling him shift you looked up as he said, “I promise.”

In the moonlight his eyes sparkled like clear tropical waters. Slowly, a soft smile spread across your face as you stared at him. “I love you, Chris.” There was no romanticism behind it even after being together, just pure love for your friend. 

Chris exhaled, planting a kiss to your temple. “I love you too, Y/N.” 

Despite wanting to spend your remaining hours together awake you reluctantly fell asleep in his arms, tearfully parting in the morning. Two weeks later you watched as the space shuttle launched, with proud tears filling your eyes as Chris’ picture flashed on your screen along with the rest of the crew. Seeing that made you feel hopeful and overjoyed at the prospect of hearing from him soon.

“Chris… I’m pregnant.” It was a relief to finally tell him but you didn’t feel any better, uncertainty weighed heavy on your shoulders, crushing the space for your lungs to expand. Chris knows but now what?

He’s silent, his lips parted slightly and you don’t know if there’s a delay in the feed. Maybe you should have emailed it to him. You were going to at first and instead chose to word the importance of needing to speak to him in such a clandestine way that you were contacted by someone from NASA. Upon speaking to them they allowed your email to be dispatched and then you waited. 

Chris’ eyebrows knit together, his shoulders slumping down as he stared at your face through the screen. He didn’t have any doubts, you were always truthful with each other, but he still wondered how.

“We put on a new one, I thought…” 

“I thought we were good too,” you said, letting out a shaky breath. 

You weren’t just pregnant, you were pregnant with his child and based off of some quick calculations in his head you were nearing the end of your first trimester. “H-how are you? I mean, how are you feeling?”

“Physically or…” Nervous laughter bubbles out of your throat. 

This was hard on you, the physical symptoms weren’t fun but you could manage. What was more difficult was not telling anyone. It was early enough in your pregnancy that you could hide it from your family. They still lived in Hartford and hadn’t been down to visit yet but you couldn’t avoid them forever. Work was a different story. You had to let your boss know you would have to modify your duties as working around solvents and other chemicals would not be safe.

There was never a doubt in your mind about keeping the baby. When you were younger you imagined having children by now but it didn’t work out that way. It was something you were okay with, finding life fulfilling in different ways. Work was incredible, you were able to travel and though your relationships hadn’t worked out in the past you didn’t hold on to any resentments. Life was always complete and now things were going to be different. 

You wanted to speak to Chris first before telling your family because you needed to know your expectations. Chris had a life of his own and you didn’t want your choice of having a baby to make him feel obligated in any way. You were an adult; a smart, independent woman and could do this on your own.

“I know this isn’t something we planned but…” Chris exhaled, the corners of his mouth lifting upward, “There’s no one I’d rather do this with than you... I promise.” 

Chris’ eyes glisten with tears as his smile grows and you find yourself brushing away your own from the corner of your eyes. It was comforting to know Chris will be part of the baby’s life. Truthfully it would have been weird if he wasn’t in some capacity considering how close you were. For now you have a lot of time on how you’re going to figure things out for the future.

After the call Chris reflected in silence, staring out of the giant triangular windows of one of the Hermes’ common areas into the vastness of space. He was lost in thought, startled by his name being called by a crewmate. He turned to see Mark whose bright smile fell with concern upon seeing Chris’ face, asking if he was alright.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Chris responded, his tone mournful in the realization he’ll be missing the birth. He accepted the congratulatory hug Mark gave him, sighing heavily as they separated. “I always thought I’d be there for that.” 

You were due in March and Chris hated the fact that he won't be there for the first nine months of his child’s life, moments and milestones he’ll never get back. He doesn’t like leaving this all on you. He knows you can do it but you shouldn’t have to. 

“I can’t pretend this isn’t hard but don’t think of it in terms of what you’re missing, look at what you’re gaining, what you have to look forward to when you come home.” Chris nodded, his smile trying to come back. “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend,” Mark teased. 

“I don’t. Y/N, she’s…” Chris’ face lights up as he thinks about you, which does not go unnoticed by Mark. “We’ve been friends since we were kids. She’s always meant so much to me and now…” 

Mark gave Chris an honest smile as he spoke plainly, “And now you’re having a baby.” 

With a proud smile that stretched from ear to ear he affirmed, “Yeah… we are.” 

PART 2

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Snapshot ~ I.L.

A/n: 🥺 - that’s all I got for this one.

Request: “...Isaac lahey x male reader. The reader is a photographer and is super shy and sweet and Isaac likes him so the pack is pushing him to talk and ask him out.” By anon

MASTERLIST

“Oh won’t you smile for me?” His smile was wide and brilliant. Breathtaking. It made Isaac shift, awkward, feeling his body go stiff as his mind went blank.

God, Y/n would the death of him.

“Why?” He grumbled, trying to play uninterested like he always did. Easier that way, he reminded himself. No one could get close. He couldn’t be let down again, not after everything he-

“Because you’re pretty when you smile.”

Isaac jerked, then cleared his throat, feeling his face burn. “I’m a guy. Aren’t I supposed to be handsome?”

Y/n wore a coy smile. “Aren’t art pieces always described as pretty?” He shrugged and Isaac felt the need to bolt. But that would have looked suspicious, so he didn’t. “I don’t know why pretty is reserved for women when men can be art as well. It’s an adjective - describes anyone. Anything. Dictionary definition says nothing about boys not being able to be pretty.

God he was smart too. Kill me now.

It had been like this for three and a half weeks now. It had all started when Isaac and Y/n had met by accident. Isaac was overwhelmed by all the smells and sounds that were jumping out at him after a particularly rough morning that had followed an even rougher weekend with his dad. He’d come to school thinking that it would be his favorite day, like every Monday was, because it meant he could be away from home and focus on something more pleasant and also more important. But it had been too much, the time that had come before school. And he had carried that with him, every noise and touch and look and demanding question as teachers took pleasure in catching him off guard and making him look like an idiot.

So, for lunch, he’d gone out to the field and hidden under the bleachers to get some peace and quiet like he used to before he was a wolf. Before he was part of Derek’s pack. Before his life had gotten a little better and a lot more stressful. Or, that had been the plan anyway. When he got there, someone else was already curled in the soft grass, eyes close and body completely relaxed. The boy’s arms were stretched out ahead of him, fingers open and almost reaching for a camera that had been abandoned.

It seemed like the person had fallen asleep while looking at or taking pictures, or maybe just holding the camera with no purpose. Isaac had woken the person up and had been instantly stolen of all ability to speak or think or even breathe as the most beautiful eyes opened. The boy made the cutest expression Isaac had ever seen - part confused and part disappointed, but also part happy. There was a small smile mixed with foggy gazes and knitted eyebrows. The boy slowly looked at Isaac and spoke. “I’m sorry. Am I in your spot?”

His voice was so... scratchy. It was like sex.

Isaac swallowed. “No. No sorry.” He’d gone to leave but then the boy had sat up, insisting he stay, and they had begun talking after Isaac had hesitantly agreed. Ever since then, Isaac and Y/n had been very close. It was perfectly casual between them, and neither had any problem with talking about whatever, or just sitting in silence if either needed that.

They were quite similar. Both tending to be quiet and withdrawn if given the chance. Y/n saw right through Isaac’s little show of swagger and confidence, and tended to hug him if he tried too hard, as if knowing he was doing it to try and deflect how terrible he felt. They could be real with each other, no expectations. It was like nothing else Isaac had ever felt.

Then one day, things had shifted. Just a little. Small enough that Isaac hadn’t really noticed it for a while. He knew that slowly they started to look at each other longer, even when neither of them were talking. They drifted closer, leaning against each other or resting a head on the other person’s shoulder, or laying in a lap, or just really anything to be touching. Isaac had gotten into the habit of just continually resting his arm across the back of Y/n’s shoulders. They invaded each other’s space constantly. They memorized each other’s orders for all the different places they went to get food, and if one of them was without something to eat, there was no scene made if one of them stole a bit from the other. It was drastically different than how Isaac acted with anyone else and it wasn’t long before others had started to notice.

“You should ask him out,” Erica had hummed one day, looking at her nails.

“Who?” Isaac had asked, eyebrows coming together in confusion.

“Y/n,” Erica had responded like it was the most obvious thing ever.

Boyd nodded. “You two have something special, and neither of you are hiding it. Kind of refreshing to see actually.”

Derek had raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Y/n?”

Isaac had been glaring at Erica when the question had been asked, so when he looked over his face still had traces of annoyance, as did his voice. “My friend. I met him under the bleachers about a month ago. We’re just friends though.”

After that, even those from Scott’s pack had begun to play at hinting for Isaac to make moves on Y/n. While they were fighting and taunting each other, Stiles made a snide comment about “his boyfriend” to Isaac, and somehow Isaac knew immediately who he was talking about.

Even outside of fighting when Scott tried to convince Erica and Isaac to be more careful, he said something that got under Isaac’s skin. “What would Y/n think about all of this? Because if he had to pick sides, I don’t think he’d pick Derek’s.”

He’d been handling it all well, he thought. Through all of that he’d bee able to keep denying his feelings and push away anything close to daydreams... unless he was really out of it and super bored and wanted to go to some sort of happy place, where he would return to that first day under the bleachers, except... every time he went there, Y/n and Isaac always ended up kissing. Despite all of the others’ prodding and the weird thoughts he could never totally shake, he could convince himself he didn’t feel that way toward Y/n.

Then Y/n had started flirting with him.

And now they were here.

Isaac tried to keep that line between them and two boys in love clearly, but every time he did Y/n danced around him as he drew with chalk, crossing the line before he could finish. Or sometimes stepping right over it, grinning smugly, arms crossed over his chest in teasing playfulness. Isaac couldn’t friendzone Y/n if he tried, and Y/n wasn’t giving any room to even try.

“Hey there Handsome.” Isaac felt his face heat up as Y/n moved into his view. The other boy had an adoring expression on his face.

The thing was, Y/n was really never like this with anyone else. He was usually really shy and reserved. The two had been open from the start, allowing them to bypass anxiety and shyness pretty quickly. So Isaac couldn’t tell if this was a secret side to Y/n that he couldn’t get the confidence to use on anyone else, or if he was actually flirting because he was interested. It would be Isaac’s luck that Y/n though the flirting was platonic and fun and meaningless while Isaac was losing his whole shit every time it happened.

“Hey.” His voice cracked when he said it so he cleared his throat. “What’s up, Y/n?”

There seemed to be slight disappointment that colored Y/n’s eyes. “Nothing much. I was just thinking about you so I thought I’d pop over and say hello to my favorite curly haired high schooler.” He reached up, running a hand through Isaac’s hair.

God Isaac almost lost all of his cool right in the middle of the damn hallway. There was nothing he liked more than having his hair played with, and he had imagined the feeling of Y/n’s hands combing through the strands hundreds of times but none of it had prepared him for reality.

Suddenly his body was hot and his mind was foggy and the bell was ringing for class to start and Isaac had had enough. He looked around quickly for anything, and then grabbed Y/n’s hand when he saw a janitorial closet, puling them both inside and locking the door. He rounded on Y/n. “Isaac-?”

“Do you understand how incredible you are?” Isaac demanded. “I never fail when I need to get my shit under control. I learned a long time ago how to seem calm and collected when everything else inside is burning to the ground. I can do it with anyone and everyone else and then you come within five feet of me and I’m a mess. Jesus Y/n please tell me that you understand how much I want to kiss you at literally all times and how absolutely insane it’s driving me.”

For a second, Y/n was stunned. Then, slowly, the biggest grin Isaac had ever seen bloomed on and Y/n reached up, grabbing Isaac by the collar and pulling him into a heated kiss.

The rest, I suppose, is history.

[raindownforme]

First off, I adore your work! You’re writing is absolutely lovely!

And also I have a request.

Ted is a the popular theater kid and reader is the punk of the school who keeps to their clique. Ted grows an interest for the reader and constantly tries to flirt with them in front of their friends and in private or get a date with them. Reader brushes him off most of the time but grows to like him.

Shakespeare

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” The tall brunette stood at the front of the English classroom, reading from the book in his hand. The teacher sat at her desk a few paces away, taking note of how he talked. y/n watched him lazily, not quite caring for Shakespeare. “Thou art more lovely and temperate.”

y/n didn’t pay attention as Ted continued the presentation. She flicked her mechanical pencil between her fingers, biding time. “Thank you, Theodore, for sonnet 18. Next is 19– y/n?”

“I chose the annotation project.”

“Thank you. Who had 20?”

Ted took the seat next to y/n. “How’d I do?”

“Not bad. I mean, I’m sure you could’ve done better theater kid.”

“I don’t know. Let me practice it for you and we’ll see.” y/n rolled her eyes, resting her flushed cheek against her hand. “What was yours about?”

“Also romance. I mean it’s half of what the guy wrote about.”

“I could teach you some of his other stuff.”

“Yes. Theodore. The theater tutor.”

“Aw. Is it my aesthetic? Is that the problem?” y/n exaimned the difference between the two of them. Ted wore the same blue jeans, sneakers, and graphic tee to school every day. Of course y/n had a few staple pieces; her leather boots and mix-matched pieces of jewelry, but she did most commonly wear dark or patterned pants and faded shirt.

“It’s a thousand percent the aesthetic.”

Ted closed his notebook, playfully muttering the himself. The school bell rang and y/n stood up, shoving belongings into a book bag as the teacher made announcements to the leaving students.

“Hey. Come see the show.”

“What show?” She pushed through the crowd as Ted followed. y/n could spot her friends group in the distance, waiting just outside the doors.

“The show! Midsummer’s Night Dream. I’m starring in it.”

“Yeah sure. Like I can afford it.” Her hand hit the door, but he stepped in front of her, preventing her from leaving the building. “Ted-“

“Please. Tonight. Seven. I’ll set a ticket aside for you.” She felt her face heat up as moved away slightly. “Might wanna say hi to your friends for me y/n.”

The boy walked away and y/n continued out the door to her and her friends’ lunch period.

———

“I mean. What’s the worst that could happen?” y/n’s friend, Alix, peeled away the paper wrapping around his sandwich. “Do you even like the guy?”

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“So it could be yes.” Alix leaned in the back of his seat as he took a bite of his lunch. y/n and her friends were sitting in Alix’s truck in the school parking lot, all eating something they either brought from home or bought at a fast food place near the school.

“It’s always wise to indulge in the arts.” Jaz, one of y/n’s other friends spoke from the back seat.

“Dude would you shut up? You took a writing class once.” The last one of the group, Ryan, waved away what Jaz said. “If you like the guy you like him. If you don’t you don’t. Or play with him. I don’t care.”

“I’m not going to play with Ted’s feelings.” y/n searched through her French fries mindlessly. “He Is cute. I don’t know guys.”

“Just go to the show. It can’t be that bad.”

———

Lunch passed, as did the next couple classes, until y/n’s last period of the day. Thankfully, it was a TA period, so there wasn’t much to do.

“Dearie would you run these to the theatrics department for me?” The lady behind the front desk has to be at least 80 at this point, but y/n stood to take the stack of papers from her. “Thank you.”

y/n smiled and left, taking leisure in her walk. The sole of her boots slapped against the off-white linoleum, echoing through the hallways and cafeteria as she crossed the entire building. She never really realized how far the performing arts hall was until walking to it.

The door creaked as it opened to an empty black classroom. “Hello?” She stepped in, her words echoing. She could hear some small commotion deeper into the theater. She followed the noise, finding herself in what looked like a workshop. “Hi?”

“y/n!” She whipped her head to the side to see Ted walking through a large doorway. “Always a pleasure to see you. Especially here. How can I help love?”

y/n brushed off his comment the best she could. “I’m looking for the director? I’ve got some papers to deliver.”

She held out the papers, trying to show Ted, but instead he linked one of his pinkies with hers. “I’ll take you.”

She stared at their linked fingers as Ted dragged her from the workshop to the back of the audience. Ted talked to somebody, but she didn’t quite pay attention.

“And who’s this?”

Looking up, she met eyes with a man she hadn’t quite spoken to before. He wasn’t quite as tall as Ted, and he wore a blue blazer and hiking boots. “This is y/n, from the front office.”

“Ah.” He nodded at Ted. “And is this who-“

“Yes.” Ted cut him short, rubbing at the back of his own neck.

“Well thank you.” The man took the papers from her hand. “We hope to see you tonight.”

She watched him walk away before turning back to Ted. “What’s he mean?”

“Well, he’s who I had to talk to about your ticket. You are coming tonight aren’t you?”

“I can swing by.”

“Good.” Ted brought their still conjoined hands up and lightly kissed her knuckles. “I’ll be watching for you.”

———

y/n had been waiting for a while now.

When school had got out, she had hung around with her friends for a while, getting something to eat and doing some homework, but now it was 6:53 and she was stuck in line at the ticket counter. In front of her were five people. She was five people away from whatever was to come out of tonight.

“Next!” The line shuffled forwards as two people walked inside. She bounced on her feet, watching the exchange of cash between the student running the ticket booth and the patrons. “Next!”

“Hi I think I had a ticket reserved for me.” The student looked over their shoulder at something, then back to y/n.

“Who reserved it?”

“Ted Nivison?”

“Oh. Okay then this is for you.” The student handed over a rectangular ticket with a seat number stamped on the bottom. “Enjoy the show.”

y/n walked through the double doors into the audience. Most of the seats were full, and it took her a few minutes to find the seat marked for her. When she did, she set her backpack down in the front of her, noticing something underneath her seat. It was a folded piece of paper with a note from Ted.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

-Ted

She stuck the note in her pocket and traded it for her phone. 6:59 pm. She silenced it and looked back to the stage, anxiously waiting. The lights dimmed and she stared up the stage. The curtains began to open and it revealed Ted standing in Grecian style clothing with minimal armor pieces. He stood with his hand outstretched to a girl wearing similar clothing.

Ted’s eyes surveyed the audience, landing on y/n with a smirk. “Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace…”

y/n sat in awe for the next two hours. She watched as Ted moved across the stage, putting to life the story as if he’d lived it. She watched as the characters came to life, as the set moved, and as the lights changed. And two hours later, the curtain closed and the cast came together to do bows. She clapped furiously, then watched everyone stand from their seats and leave. She stood, trying to grab her things. The theater had been nearly emptied by now, people rushing out to say hi to people they knew in the cast.

y/n looked around. To the side of the curtain, just peeking out, was someone waving. She walked over, realizing it was Ted.

“Hey there! What’d you think?”

“That was amazing, Ted.” The boy smiled, taking her hand in his. He began to pull her backstage with him. “Wait Ted-“

“It’s fine don’t worry. Here.” Ted pulled her to stand near the classroom area. “Give me two minutes.”

She watched Ted enter the dressing room. For a moment, it was quiet, until everyone else started to file in. The room quickly became loud, filling with student’s voices.

“Hey.” Ted tapped y/n on the shoulder. “I know it’s a lot. Come with me.” Ted draped an arm over her shoulders as he pulled her outside into the crisp night air. “Better?”

“Yeah. Better. Ted that was- that was awesome.”

“I’m glad I can impress you.” Ted checked his phone. “It’s nine already. You have plans?”

“No I-“

“Come get dinner with me. My treat.”

“Ted. It sounds like you’re asking me on a date.” She lightly nudged him with her elbow.

“It’s only a date if you say yes.”

y/n paused, taken aback by the sudden forwardness. “If I say yes?”

“You don’t have to! Don’t think you have to!” Ted gestured with his hands in a panicked motion. “I just- I think you’re really cool and pretty with your style and I’ve always liked you for as long as I can remember and I was just wondering-“

“Yes.”

He paused, eyes wide as a blush crept onto his face. “Yes? Yes as in yes a date? Our date?”

y/n stood on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Take me on a date theater boy.”

Ted wrapped her in a hug, pressing a kiss to her nose. “Anywhere you want.”

——————

Hi! I hope this is what you were looking for!