#oh; these were SO COOL to find out and compile!!

[formulawolff]

"keep 'em comin'" - m.v.

pairing: girl best friend!reader x max verstappen

word count: 2.3k

warnings: alcohol consumption, light marijuana usage, cussing, max munching on some cooter! (that will come later in the fic), enemies to friends to lovers, typical men behavior (being creepy in a bar), mentions of physical threats, kelly slander, THINGS ARE MESSY BETWEEN KELLY AND MAX (so if y'all don't like light infidelity/gray areas then don't read) yadayadayada (y'all already know the vibes)

a/n: hellllloooo! <3 this is my first time writing for max so if this isn't quite like him, i apologize in advance. this fic is based off of a request and i had to write about it since i've been feral for max (he finally took off that damned cap!) this may end up as a two or three part series. we'll see, we'll see!

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

"i see the decrepit hag decided to let you out of her clutches tonight. congratulations for being able to be out and about in public without her breathing down your neck!"

the figure standing to your left scoffs, muttering a few incoherent words under his breath. he slides into the booth, propping his chin up with a hand. the other finds the glistening glass, a bead of condensation rolling down, pooling onto the rigid table.

"about that."

"what about it?" you arch a brow, lips connecting with the rim of your own drink, "max, did something happen before you left?"

he shrugs, brows pinching together as he sips on his mixed drink, a decadent yet smooth concoction of his favorite liquors blended together, "it's nothing serious."

"max," setting your glass down, you lean forward ever so slightly, his name louder than normal over the overwhelming mixture of voices and volume, "what. happened."

"oh you know," he waves a hand, careful not to meet your piercing gaze, "she's upset that i was going out to see you. that's all."

the moment max mentioned her, you knew exactly who she was.

she was kelly piquet. max verstappen's beloved wag. the woman who scooped him up the moment that clock struck midnight on his eighteenth birthday.

the woman you loathed more than anyone in the world.

but you wouldn't tell max that.

after all, you couldn't. the pair had been dating for quite some time. and although max wouldn't say it outright, you were well aware that she was not going anywhere anytime soon.

no matter how much the two fought. no matter how much she wanted to make your relationship with max as strained as possible.

your friendship with max had a rocky start. tumultuous, even. the two of you met when you were both seventeen, as your parents were mutual friends. since max was involved in racing, and you aimed to pursue professional photography, max's father suggested that the two of you get to know one another.

of course, at that time, the last thing teenage max wanted was some nerdy girl following him around. especially when there were other teenage boys involved. cool teenage boys who enjoyed to fuck around with fast machinery.

he teased you relentlessly, tormenting you whenever he could. he ridiculed your photographic abilities, scorning the prints or slideshows you provided. often times, he stated that your pictures were, "absolute shit" and your clip compilations "were not going to get you anywhere in formula one."

of course, you matched his energy. after all, you weren't going to take anyone's shit. you knew you had to advocate for yourself. you weren't going to make it in the industry if you weren't assertive.

eventually, your snapshots landed you a job at red bull. well, max did have a part to play in that.

after a couple of years, the dutch driver apologized for the way he treated you at the time, requesting a truce. the truce would consist of you sticking around as his personal media manager.

in turn, he would promote your work to the world of formula one and assist you in your way up the ladder in any way he could. he would land your sponsorships. he would chip in some cash here and there to get you more advanced software or equipment.

the only stipulation was that you had to follow him.

everywhere and anywhere he went. every event. every interview. every grand prix.

no. matter. what.

of course, with the stakes involved, you knew it was too good of a deal to refuse. with max's rise to prominence in formula one, you knew it was now or never.

so, you accepted his offer.

oh jos verstappen, what a bastard you were.

cause now, here you were in vegas, sitting across from the man you loved. well, the man you were in love with.

hopelessly and utterly in love with.

"that isn't unusual for her," you scoff, hands reaching for your purse, "i do have something that could lighten the mood!"

"and that is?" max's gaze follows your hand, making note of the delicately wrapped joint between your fingers.

"my friend mary jane!"

"you of all people know i shouldn't be smoking," the dutch driver shakes his head, yet proceeds to scoot out of the booth anyway, "i'll still come out there with you. i won't be taking any hits though."

"yeah, yeah," you wave a hand, "that's what they all say."

as you slip out of the booth, you feel max's hand connect with your lower back, almost guiding you through the throng of locals. a few of them chirp greetings to max, others chattering, creating a buzz within the air.

well, there went any sort of anonymity.

so much for keeping a low profile for the weekend.

yet, when in vegas, that was almost impossible to maintain. especially when you were a man of max's caliber.

the two of you manage to slip out, just before fans started asking for autographs. of course, max obliged to a few, signing a cap here and an arm there.

even though it was quickly approaching december, the air was mild, dipping in the low fifties. max hovers to your right, shuddering as a breeze rolls through. you curse as it quenches your flame, motioning for max to stand closer.

"can you shield me for a moment, pretty boy?"

"pretty boy?"

from the way the words tumbled from his mouth, max seemingly was not to keen to the idea of being referred to as pretty boy. yet, he inches even closer to you, providing a barrier as the lighter comes to life, igniting your delicate pre-roll.

"what else should i call you?" shrugging, you exhale, the smoke billowing into the night, "or do you prefer world champion?"

"how much did you have to drink before i got here?" the dutch driver cocks his head, his stare almost picking you apart.

"enough," you respond, lips curling into a devious grin, "don't act like you didn't like that."

"i did," he counters, "that's the issue here."

"and why is that an issue?"

"because we used to fucking despise one another. we used to tear one another apart. and now here i am, going out for drinks with you when i shouldn't be. here i am, looking forward to your texts or your snaps when i know i should be thinking about someone else.

fuck, even when i'm with her, my mind wanders to you. we're together all of the fucking time yet i crave you. i miss you when we're apart. what are you doing to me?"

before your mind can even formulate a coherent response, an individual saunters up to the two of you, drinks in hand.

it's an older man, approximately in his early or mid fifties. he's balding, as a few of the greasy hairs were poorly combed over. he was well dressed, but poorly groomed, as there was quite the scruff plaguing his feautures.

"good evening," his words are directed towards you, yet you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes were fixated on your joint, "i was wondering if the pretty lady could exchange a hit or two for a-"

"she's not accepting shit from you," max's voice is low, the driver taking another half step toward you, almost to shield you even further.

"c'mon man," the man drawls, the words slurred, "i wasn't fucking speakin' to ya. i was talkin' to her."

"and i'm talking to you," max's jaw clenches, "get the fuck out of here."

"and you are?" the man arches a brow, "surely not her boyfriend."

"actually i am," the words are forced through gritted teeth, the driver's fists clenched to his sides, "i'm her fiancé. i suggest you leave before i-"

"got it," the man exhales, rolling his eyes, "it was worth a shot. what the fuck ever man."

as he turns to head back towards the bar, you feel fingers find yours, intertwining together. max squeezes your hand gently, "are you okay?"

"fiancé?" relief ripples as you notice his demeanor crumble, "what was that all about? were you manifesting something or-"

"come on," max tugs at your hand, "let's go to another place. get a few more drinks. keep 'em comin'. keep the alcohol flowin', you know?"

"max," clicking your tongue, you frown as your realize your joint was burnt out, "what is going on between you and kelly?"

"i don't want to talk about her right now," the driver won't even look at you, keeping his focus on the glow and ambiance of the city, "we can talk about anything else but her. please. i don't even want to think about her right now. shouldn't you be relieved? why aren't you relieved?"

"because you look stressed the fuck out!" you retort, "and it stresses me out because i love you and i can't handle seeing you all bummed about some hag who is only using you!"

max freezes, your hand flying up to your mouth. heat floods your cheeks, heart thudding against your rib-cage as you realize what just came pouring from your mouth.

"did you just tell me that you love me?"

his voice is soft. dangerously low. merely a whisper, barely audible over the bustling noise of vegas.

tears well up, shame setting your body ablaze as you nod, biting your lower lip, "y-yeah. and i know i shouldn't-"

"shut the fuck up," hands meet with your cheeks, bringing you in close, "just shut the fuck up and come here."

in that moment, max's mouth finds yours. the kiss is tender, brimmed with nothing but passion, breathing life back into your lungs. it was grounding yet exhilarating, waves of euphoria crashing over.

he pulls away, forehead brushing against yours, "why haven't i done this sooner?"

"because kelly-"

"i don't give a fuck about kelly right now."

"give a fuck about me then," you murmur against his mouth, relishing the way his hands explore, roaming along your back, trailing down to your ass, "you think we should take this somewhere more private? before someone snaps a photo of max verstappen making out with his media manager?"

"that's a good idea," he nods, "i'll arrange an uber."

although it was merely minutes in the time it took between getting into the uber and making it to your hotel room, it felt like an eternity. yet, with the way max's hand gripped your thigh the entire drive, you didn't complain. the other hand held onto yours, pressing gentle kisses to your knuckles.

if only this was your everyday life.

if only things were different.

if only he fell in love with you first.

once the two of you were in the elevator, he maintained his composure, as there were other people stepping in and out. there was even a little boy, in awe that his favorite driver was staying in the same hotel as him. max was kind enough to gift him one of his beaded bracelets, a small memento from a win during the 2022 season.

if only that child knew what his favorite driver was really up to.

once that light on your keypad flashed green, his mouth was on yours, tongue gliding along your lower lip, practically begging for access. his hands were all over, tugging on your clothes, desperate to see what was underneath.

"fuck," there's a rumble in his chest as he lays on you on the bed, pinning you to the mattress.

"what?" you can't help but wriggle a little, slightly flustered by the intensity of his gaze.

"you have no idea how much i've thought about this," a dusty rose hue tinges his cheeks, "i-i almost don't know what to do now. i've thought about it so frequently that i had it down to every little detail. and now i have you here, right where i want you but i feel like i'm going to fuck this up and-"

"max," tender fingers sweep locks of hair from his forehead, "do what you feel is right."

"i just want to show you how much i love you. i need you to know how loved you are."

"i think i have an idea," the tip of your nose brushes against his, "is there anything i can do to help?"

"will you let me taste you?"

instinctively, your hips buck forward, legs spreading so that he can have access. you can feel his cock stiffen in his pants, pressing against your inner thigh, aching for some sort of relief.

"yes," you nod, "you can taste me."

"f-fuck," his jaw nearly goes slack as you guide his hand through the waistband of your panties, the pad of his index finger circling your clit, "you're this wet for me? already? my poor baby. all soaked and desperate for me."

"m-max," the way his name falls from your lips is intoxicating, "i need you."

"are you sure this is okay?" he pauses, eyes meeting with yours, "if at any moment you need me to stop, just tell me."

"you are more than okay. i promise."

fingers delicately unbutton your jeans, rolling them down your legs. in the process, you peel off your hoodie and shirt, tossing them to the floor.

just the mere sight of you half-dressed had him coming undone, his inhibitions slipping away by the second. fuck, you were so stunning. someone who deserved to be worshipped and cherished.

far more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

situating himself between your legs, max's mouth roams, placing wet kisses all over your inner thighs, hips, and abdomen. his tongue flattens against your heated core, savoring the way you squirmed under his touch.

"you need me to taste you baby?" he coos, cocking his head.

"yes," you plead, skin hot to the touch, your clit engorged, folds slick with juices.

"hmmm," he hums, hands grasping your thighs to spread you open further.

"once i get these off of you, you're all mine. and only mine. got that?"

yet, there was one thing that happened to slip max verstappen's mind that night in vegas.

well, one woman.

the woman he referred to as his girlfriend, but the woman he was not in love with.

kelly piquet.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Hi, could you please write about how Lando finds out that the reader really likes cats, and how he tries to come to terms with it (remember that video where he says that if a person doesn't like dogs but also likes cats it's a red flag).

A Pawful Revelation

Word count: 922

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

________________________________________________________

It started innocently enough. You and Lando were scrolling through your phones one lazy afternoon, each sprawled on opposite ends of his massive couch. The only sound in the room was the faint hum of a race replay on the TV and the occasional flick of your nails on the glass screen.

Lando suddenly perked up, his attention snagged by an adorable video of a Golden Retriever puppy wagging its tail enthusiastically.

“Look at this little guy!” he exclaimed, shoving his phone toward you.

You glanced up from your screen, smiling. “Aww, he’s cute,” you said, but you didn’t look as enthusiastic as Lando clearly wanted you to be. He frowned slightly but didn’t press it.

A moment later, you bit your lip to suppress a smile as you scrolled further down your own feed.

“Why are you grinning like that?” Lando asked, craning his neck to look at your phone.

“Oh, no reason,” you said, too quickly.

“Let me see.”

Before you could stop him, Lando snatched your phone and squinted at the screen. His face twisted into a mixture of amusement and betrayal as he saw the source of your delight: a compilation of cats knocking objects off tables with utter disdain.

“Cats?” he asked, his tone laced with disbelief.

“What about them?” you asked innocently, snatching your phone back.

“You… like cats?” he asked, narrowing his eyes like you’d just told him you secretly supported his rival team.

“Of course I do,” you replied, laughing. “They’re hilarious and cute!”

Lando leaned back on the couch, folding his arms as he stared at you, processing this revelation. “Wait, wait. You mean like, really like cats?”

You nodded. “Yeah, they’re amazing. So independent, so sassy. I’ve always loved them.”

He groaned, running a hand through his messy curls. “You’re telling me you’re a cat person?”

“Why do you say it like I just confessed to a crime?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because it’s a red flag!” Lando said, throwing his hands up dramatically.

You laughed so hard you nearly dropped your phone. “Oh, come on, Lando. Are you seriously judging me for liking cats? You like dogs; I like cats. It’s not that deep.”

“But it is!” he insisted, leaning toward you, his tone half-joking but with a hint of genuine worry. “Dogs are loyal, happy, and full of love. Cats are… evil. They scratch you for no reason and knock your stuff over just to annoy you!”

You rolled your eyes. “Cats are misunderstood. They’re affectionate, but on their own terms. They’re like the cool kids of the pet world.”

Lando shook his head, still looking troubled. “I don’t know if I can trust someone who prefers cats over dogs.”

“Oh, please,” you said, giving him a playful shove. “You’re being ridiculous. Besides, I didn’t say I don’t like dogs. I just like cats more.”

“That’s worse!” he exclaimed, pretending to clutch his chest.

You laughed again, but you could tell he was genuinely grappling with this newfound information about you.

Over the next few days, Lando seemed determined to convince you that dogs were superior. He sent you countless videos of puppies doing adorable things, from catching Frisbees to snuggling with their owners. He even tried to recruit his fans into the debate by posting a poll on Instagram: Cats or Dogs?

Despite his efforts, your love for cats remained unwavering. In fact, you doubled down, texting him memes of cats in silly hats and videos of them performing acrobatics.

One day, he showed up at your apartment with a smug grin and a small gift bag.

“What’s this?” you asked, taking the bag from him.

“Just a little something to change your mind,” he said, flopping onto your couch with an air of confidence.

Inside the bag was a pair of socks covered in cartoon dogs and a plush Golden Retriever toy.

“Really, Lando?” you said, holding up the socks.

“What? I’m trying to save you from a life of bad decisions,” he said, grinning.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

The real test came a week later when you convinced Lando to visit a cat café with you. He was reluctant at first, muttering about how he’d probably leave covered in scratches. But when he saw how excited you were, he couldn’t say no.

As soon as you entered, a fluffy gray cat sauntered over to you, meowing softly. Your face lit up as you crouched down to pet it.

Lando watched from a distance, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed. But then a tiny orange kitten climbed onto his lap, purring loudly.

“Uh, what do I do?” he asked, looking slightly panicked.

“Just pet him,” you said, smiling.

Hesitantly, Lando stroked the kitten’s soft fur. The kitten responded by curling up and falling asleep on his lap.

For a moment, Lando looked conflicted, but then a small smile crept onto his face.

“See?” you said, sitting beside him. “Cats aren’t so bad.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, trying to hide his grin. “This one’s alright, I guess.”

By the time you left the café, Lando had a newfound appreciation for cats. While he still insisted that dogs were better, he grudgingly admitted that cats weren’t the villains he’d made them out to be.

And as you walked back to the car, he slipped his hand into yours and said, “Okay, fine. Maybe I can tolerate your cat obsession. But only because it’s you.”

[aurorawhisperz]

little romance documentary

contains: swearing, fluff, use of y/n and a whole lot of dumb things.

tom!peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: the long-awaited rory comeback! and i’m in my spiderman phase so..the ethan landry stuff will have to wait.

summary: (based off the video diary scene in homecoming) a compilation of all things you’ve done with peter :3

“What are you doing?” You poke at the camera, causing it to shake a little bit. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to show that to the rest of the world.”

Peter shakes his head, “What? No, it’s a little behind-the-scenes thing. Video diary, documentary..” He tries to find the right word.

This is probably why you thought your father hiring someone your age was a bad idea.

“Right, who are you gonna show it to?” And all you can do is stare into the camera while he keeps on recording whatever’s happening in the fancy car.

“Oh, it’s just for me. For memories!” Peter moves the camera away from your view and makes it look like he’s in the spotlight instead.

You’re quite overwhelmed, so you give him a smile in return. “You can do a little introduction.. if you want.” He says with a grin as he makes the camera face you.

“Okay,” You clear your throat, fixing the way you looked. “I’m Y/N Stark, we are going to Germany, currently being driven by my trusty servant, Happy Hogan!”

Happy quickly interrupts the process, “And I’m not too happy with how you have the nerve to call me your trusty servant.” You roll your eyes at his words. “Whatever.”

“And I’m here with uh..Spiderboy!” You continue after a short while, Peter laughs, turning the camera back to himself before correcting the name, “It’s Spiderman, actually..”

The car speeds along the road, and everything felt okay. You were staring into the sun, enjoying and relaxing, Peter was recording you as you were doing so. Admiring how he was able to work with a really cool person..and his daughter.

Reporters and even influencers were calling you a privileged pretty girl, but he didn’t believe those people at all.

You look back at Peter, who’s quick to move the camera in Happy’s direction. You knew what he was doing and all you hoped for was that he didn’t capture a bad angle.

“Okay, okay, let's do this properly,” you say, taking the camera from Peter. “I'm Y/N Stark, the brains and beauty behind this operation. And this,” you turn the camera to Peter, “is Spiderman, our main character and friendly neighborhood hero in Queens.”

Peter gives a mock salute to the camera. “I’m here to save the day or, at the very least, make some pretty cool memories.”

Happy shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he focuses on the road ahead. “Just don't get yourselves into too much trouble, kids.”

“Trouble? Us? Neverrrr~” you say with a smirk.

This was also the start of a great friendship.

-

The camera flicks on and Peter’s face fills the screen as he grins mischievously. “Alright, we’re going to pull the ultimate prank on Happy. Wish us luck.” He whispers into the lens.

You appear next to him, just as excited, holding a box. “We’ve been planning this for a while. This is going to be EPIC.” You whisper.

The two of you sneak through the hallway of the lavish suite, making sure you aren’t attracting any attention. Happy was inside his room, absorbed by a movie, completely unaware of what’s happening as usual.

“Ready?” you ask Peter, who nods to the camera.

You press a button on a small remote, activating the surprise. Suddenly, the speakers hidden around the room begin to play the song “WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?”

Happy’s movie is long gone when it’s replaced by a compilation of embarrassing moments such as Happy looking into the fridge at three in the morning, him slipping on the floor, Happy trying (and utterly failing) to dance and getting scared by jumpscares.

He looks up, startled at first. “What the hell..?”

And that was your cue.

You and Peter burst into the room, laughing hysterically. “GOTCHA!” You shout, holding up the camera to capture his reaction. Happy was trying to suppress such levels of anger behind his crossed arms. “Really, kid? You’re involving the boss’s daughter OR SHOULD I SAY THE DEVIL’S OFFSPRING in your shenanigans?”

You both grin sheepishly. “Happy, relax..it was all her idea. I was just the accomplice, I was cool.” Happy shakes his head in disgust. “You’re lucky I have a sense of humor.” He says, holding up a finger as he walks to the bathroom. “THIS MEANS WAR!” Happy yells out.

“Bring it on, grandpa.” You tease. “You’ll never top this.” You and Peter high-five. “Think we need to wrap this up before he gets any other ideas..” Peter scratches his head as you turn the camera back to yourself.

Peter put on a cowboy-ish accent, “Until next time, folks. We are now signing off.” He tips his invisible hat, still grinning.

-

You’re on a plush couch next to the famous Tony Stark, sitting across from Peter who has the camera in his hand.

“Hey, nonexistent audience, welcome back to our comedy club! We’re here with Mr. Stark since this is a special episode.” Peter leans over at the camera, making him look like he’s upside down.

He pans the camera to you and Tony. Your father looked slightly bewildered and you were enjoying the spotlight.

“Thank you so much for joining us, Mr. Stark.” Peter settles down in front of the two of you. “First off, Y/N—how does it feel to be the daughter of Iron Man? Is it all..uh, glitz and glamour?”

You laugh, glancing at your dad. “It has its pros and cons. I still wanna sue that reporter for calling me a bitch.” Peter laughs at your words and focuses the camera on you as you go on and on about trying out the latest tech before it even reaches the world.

Tony raises an eyebrow at Peter and then looks back at you while you ramble about being a Stark.

“That’s a bit odd,” He places a hand on his chin, probably showing off his goatee. “My daughter likes to do solo projects, so it’s odd seeing you two of all people working together for this..video diary but if you’re out of trouble and it keeps Y/N happy, who am I to complain, right?”

You smirk, “At least Dad’s on board.”

Peter smiles, moving on to the next question. “Y/N, what’s one thing people would be surprised to know about Mr. Stark as a dad?”

You think for a moment, then grin. “He’s actually a big softie. He pretends to be all tough and serious, but he’s the first to offer a hug when you need one. And he makes the best pancakes.”

Tony chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re ruining my tough guy image, kid.”

Peter chuckles but doesn’t remove the camera’s focus from you. “And Mr. Stark, what’s one piece of advice you’d give to Y/N as she navigates her way through life?”

Tony’s expression turns sincere, his tone softening. “Always be true to yourself, buttercup. It’s easy to get caught up in what people expect of you, but at the end of the day, it’s your own integrity and heart that matter the most. And remember, you’re stronger than you think.”

You smile, touched by your dad’s words. “Thanks, Dad.”

Peter glances at his notepad, then back at the two of you. “Alright, final question. Y/N, what’s next for you? Any exciting projects or plans?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, he definitely caught on Peter’s not-so-secret intentions by now. “Well, I’ve got a few ideas in the works,” you say, smiling at the camera. “But you’ll have to stay tuned to find out. Can’t give away all my secrets now, can I?”

Tony leans back. “You know, Peter, you seem very interested in Buttercup’s plans. Any particular reason for that?”

Peter stammers slightly, his cheeks turning a bit red. “Oh, I just think she has some really cool ideas, Mr. Stark.“

You laugh, leaning towards the camera. “And you can bet we’ll be documenting every step of the way in our video diary.”

Peter grins, wrapping up. “Well, that’s it for today’s episode. Big thanks to Tony Stark for joining us. Until next time, keep watching for more adventures.”

As the recording ends, Tony shakes his head, smiling at the two of you. “You know, this might actually be a good thing. Just don’t let it go to your heads.”

You leave the room and the first thing Tony does is head over to Peter. “I’m not the kind of father to tell boys to stay away from their skanky little daughters but..don’t lay your..spider hands, spider legs, eight legs, whatever spiders have on my daughter.”

-

Peter sits on the edge of his bed in his hotel room, bouncing slightly with excitement despite the cuts and bruises covering his face. The adrenaline from the fight still runs through his veins. He can't help but giggle as he replays the battle in his mind.

There's a knock on the door, and before he can respond, you step inside. “Peter? You in here?”

“Y/N! You won’t believe what just happened, I met Captain America and I took his shield and I was like..” Peter puts on a deep voice as he runs his mouth even faster, “Hey, what’s up, everybody? I’m Spiderman from Queens and—”

“Okay, okay, you’re talking too fast.” You stop him but you can’t help but laugh at how enthusiastic he is about everything. “You probably looked impressive out there, Spider-boy, but are you okay? I mean-”

Peter’s grin widens and he interrupts, “I’m more than okay! IT WAS INSANE! I was out there with Iron Man, Black Widow, Captain America, Hawkeye and a bunch of new guys and I..” He stops when he sees how genuinely worried you are. “But yeah, I’m fine..really. Just a scratch.”

You can’t help but smile. “Alright, let’s see those ‘few bruises’ then,” you say, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot next to you.

This was the moment where you realized you were falling in love with him.

Peter sits beside you, still bubbling with excitement. “Okay, so there was this one moment where I webbed Cap’s shield and—”

“Wait, you webbed Captain America’s shield?”your eyes were wide. “Yeah!” His face lit up. “And then he’s like, ‘You got heart, kid,’ and I’m thinking, ‘Did Captain America just compliment me?’”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s incredible, Peter. But seriously, are you sure you’re okay?”

Peter nods, his expression softening a bit. “Sore, but good. It was just... so surreal. I’ve never been in anything like that before.”

You reach out and gently touch one of the bruises on his cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay. You did great today, Peter. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too.”

“I will, I PROMISE.” He gives you a little pinky promise, both of you linking your small fingers together. His excitement gave way to a more relaxed, contented smile.

As Peter finished talking about everything that happened at the airport in detail, you lean in and press a gentle kiss on his roughed-up cheek. “Goodnight, Pete.”

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise, nearly all of his blood rushing to his face. “Aww, thanks.” A blush creeped up his face.

As you stand to leave, Peter's gaze shifts to the table where the camera is.

His cheeks flush even deeper as he realizes the camera caught your goodnight kiss. He quickly reaches over to turn it off, Peter can't help but smile as he replays the moment over in his mind until he drifts off into sleep.

This was also the moment he realized he was falling in love with you too.

-

The two of you sat side by side on Peter’s bed, watching the footage from his laptop.

Suddenly, the scene transitions to the part where you kissed Peter goodnight. Peter shifts next to you, scratching the back of his head. “Um, so..that was uh, unexpected!”

You nod as well, “Totally unexpected.”

Peter clears his throat, his eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but straight into your soul. “I mean, not that it wasn't nice! It was... really nice. But, um, I just didn't expect it.”

You chew on your lip, trying to find the right words. “Right, yeah. I mean, it's not like I planned it or anything. It just... happened.”

There's a long pause when the awkwardness decides to stay forever. Finally, Peter breaks the silence. "I... I have to tell you something. Ever since we started this video diary, I kinda..uh, liked you. Not like a ‘you’re cool’ like but yeah! I..like-like you. More than just a general..likeness.”

You were caught off guard. “Oh, wow, that’s um, even more unexpected.”

Peter winces, his cheek turning as red as his suit. “Yeah, I know, it’s kind of out of the blue..sorry. I didn’t wanna make things weird because I work for your dad of all people.”

“No, it’s not weird..uh.” You shake your head, trying to find the right words to say. “I don’t feel the same way but uh-“

Peter’s eyes widen, “Oh, that’s alright, I mean, I wasn’t forcing you to like me back but—”

“NO! NO! NO!” You sit up and look down at Peter, “I do feel the same way, I uh..like-like you too but it feels like I care a lot more than you do..like I like you a lot more than you like me. Shit like that..”

“Really?” He breathes out, “You do?”

You nod, fixing Peter’s messed-up hair. “Yeah, I do.”

Before either of you can say anything else, Peter gets up, places the laptop on the other side and leans in hesitantly, his lips mere inches from yours. He looks at you, and all you can do in the intensity of the moment is nod. Peter closes the gap and captures your lips in a soft kiss.

He grabs you by the waist and has you straddling him as you try to deepen the kiss. Peter, considering your father, probably thought you had some experience but you didn’t. You, on the other hand, were thankful for the playboy genes kicking in so this wouldn’t turn out horrible.

It's awkward, clumsy, and completely perfect in its imperfection, just like how any other first kiss two people have should be.

You both pull away, breathless and wide-eyed.

Suddenly, a loud knock on the door breaks the moment, causing you both to jump apart in surprise. Aunt May's voice calls out from the other side, oblivious to the lovey-dovey moment within.

“Peter, dinner's ready!”

You share a sheepish smile, Peter realizes he’s not alone in his embarrassment. “Guess we'll continue this later,” you say, your cheeks still flushed.

“She makes terrible meatloaf, I just wanted to tell you.” He says as you get off his lap.

You look at the laptop next to Peter and laugh at the sight of Peter blushing and gushing like a fool after you kissed him that night. “I think we turned your video diary into a little romance documentary instead.”

“At least I’ll have something to show people when they ask how we met.” Peter shrugs and closes the laptop.

“You still can’t show that to anyone else, man..” You groan as you stand up, grabbing Peter’s hand to help him up.

[carolmunson]

let's go, don't wait (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, some sexual themes. some discussions of bad parents. eddie had some sad parts of his childhood. all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (11k) eddie is 32, reader is 30. so older!reader i guess, idk. i already started writing the part two which is almost entirely smut.

Jingle. Click. Creak. “Mmmm.” Eddie knows that groan anywhere, the deep primal urging of a one Gareth Emerson and the giggles of his girlfriend, Tatianna Edwards. They stumble into the apartment, lips attached, hands grabbing and fisting each other’s layers from the cold. 

“Hi guys,” he calls out, his tone was as bored and annoyed as he hoped it would be. His eyes don’t leave the TV, transfixed on the screen while he watches another YouTube compilation of the best guitar solos of all time. He disagrees with most of them, but it’s enough to drone on in the background while he scrolls through his Twitter feed. He’s never even posted. Not once. Not even a picture on his profile. 

“Hi Ed,” Tati chirps, clicking the side table lights on. He can smell her Chloe perfume when she comes to give him a hug hello. Her arms wrap around him from behind the couch, cheeks touching, a few of her butterfly twists falling forward over his shoulder. 

“Did you stay in tonight?” she asks, pressing a glossy smooch to his cheek. “Sure did,” he huffs, arms crossing over hers in a semblance of an embrace. Her gold bracelets are cool against his skin, her gold rings match his silver ones. He thought when Tati entered the picture that he and Gareth would’ve started to drift apart. Instead, Tati became Eddie’s new best friend – Gare really took ‘date the girl version of Eddie’ to heart. They were two peas in a pod. “You should’ve come out, there were a lot of single girls there – you’re a good dancer, you coulda snagged one,” she sounds like a mother trying to set him up. Eddie tilts his head up and looks at her from below, her deep skin shimmering with the glitter fallout from her eye makeup. She always looks pretty with ease, even with her makeup smudged – like she meant to do that. 

“Oh, I’m sure,” he smiles tightly, but the look falls to something soft when Tati lets go and her almond shaped manicured nails rake gently over his scalp through his conditioned curls.  “You can’t just keep picking up girls from shows, dude,” Gareth chides playfully, coming around the couch to sit next to him, “They’re starting to get waaaay too young for you at the bars.”

“Yeah, perv,” Tatianna teases, ruffling his hair before curling up on the recliner closer to the TV.

“Can we please not talk about this again,” Eddie sighs, sinking further into the cushions. He presses on his eyes with the heels of his hands, “You do this every time you guys come back from a date.”

“We gotta get you on Hinge, or something,” Gareth says.

“Tinder at the very least,” Tatianna follows.

“Okay, I’m going to bed,” Eddie grunts when he gets up, a little dizzy at the speed before he finds his footing, “Don’t be too loud tonight.”

“Just trying to help!” Tati calls out, “You deserve to be too loud at night, too!”

Eddie sucks his teeth before he turns the corner to the hallway, disappearing for the night while his friends fell more in love. 

It feels like they’re disassembling a bomb. Eddie sulks in a seat at the kitchen table while Robin, Steve, Nancy, and Gareth chatter behind him. Jeff and his wife sit across from him with just as much excitement as the group opposite them. Eddie frowns, bangs too long over his eyes, hands sweating onto the back of his banged up stickered phone case.

“I think you should put the picture of the guitar last, it doesn’t have your face in it. I’d swipe past you,” Robin points at the screen in front of him while he tries to make sense of his Hinge profile. 

“Well you’re a whole lesbian Rob, so you’d swipe past me anyway,” Eddie’s clipped words make the group laugh instead of making them back off. His shoulders sink immediately. This was mortifying.

“She’s right though,” Steve pipes up, “They’ll think you’re some weirdo who's obsessed with his guitar if you — well, actually then maybe it’s fine…” 

“Why don’t you—” Jeff starts.

“You’re married and you’ve been with Alycia since 2014. Your opinions are void,” Eddie interrupts with a sigh. 

Jeff lets out a laugh from his broad smile, “Look, I’m just saying. Why don’t you focus on your answers to the questions rather than the pictures? Girls love stuff like that. You’re smart, you’re a good writer.” 

“Babe, they’re not gonna care about his answers if the first picture they see is of an out of focus guitar taken on an iPhone 4S,” Alycia cocks her head at Jeff, “Like, at least be honest with him.” 

“I know you’re squinting in that picture from Jeff’s wedding but maybe you can put that one first,” Nancy points to the screen and then scrolls down a little. It lands on a photo of Jeff and Eddie, both sweating from the night's activities. His dress shirt is unbuttoned half way down his chest, silver chains and tattoos on full display, tie tied around Jeff’s forehead like a makeshift Rambo. 

“Yeah, you look really good in it,” Robin agrees. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Tati shuffles into the kitchen, “I got in touch with the photographer from the show two weeks ago at Wraith Bar and he’s sending me some pictures.” 

“You can use the six pictures you’re tagged in from the last three years,” Tatianna scolds, “You look like a bum in them.” 

The group frowns and tosses glances at each other, it’s true. The more recent pictures they had of Eddie were far and few between. He was either blinking or off to the side, blurry or ducking out of frame. Every picture where he looks like himself was either from a show or had Chrissy in it, and he deleted all of those three years ago.

“Stop, you look so fine in these,” Tatianna squeals, “The girls are gonna love you.” Everyone but Eddie huddles around Tatianna to scroll through the pictures. Some of him mid shred with sweat pouring down his chest. Some of him screaming into the mic, hair wild and wet around his face. There was one, that he begrudgingly really liked, where his head leaned back into the light with a winning Munson smile. It was when he heard the opening drums to cover ‘The Immigrant Song’ as a gag – but not really a gag ‘cause he loves that song. It gets everyone at the bar pretty excited – even if they only know the song from School of Rock. 

Eventually, Eddie isn’t even holding his phone, it’s being passed between Tati, Steve, and Robin while he dictates his answers to stupid questions. By the time his profile is finished, his head is hidden in his mass of curls, resting his forehead on his forearms at the table. 

“Are we done now?” he asks into the space between his face and the woodgrain. Despite the winter air flowing through the kitchen window, he’s overheated with embarrassment. There are suddenly too many people around, too much talking, too much giggling at his expense. He tilts his head back up and takes a full breath through his nose and out through his mouth – “Oh shit! You matched with someone!” “How? I didn’t even look at anyone yet,” Eddie’s brows furrow while his head slowly comes to center. “Don’t worry about it, dingus,” Robin chides, “Just talk to her.” Eddie takes the phone and looks at her profile. Rachel, 27, Vet tech. She’s pretty, soft eyes, great smile. He swallows thickly before he goes to his ‘Matches’ and types three letters that felt like they took ten years to write: Hey.

The chats start fast and die faster, some flirty banter here and there before he’s too nervous or quickly bored. His heart squeezes every time he gets a notification, a buzz in his pocket, a reminder of a message. Some girls don’t want a relationship and that’s fine, that’s just not what he’s looking for. Some girls ask the big questions first and he can’t answer right away. Some girls just aren’t his type and he isn’t theirs either. 

The first date he goes on ends with her excusing herself to the bathroom before they even get to order dinner. She doesn’t come back — he’s not even sure what he did. It started off fine, she was pretty with blonde hair and blue eyes. Fun and easy conversation, a voice that sounded like powder puffs and sugar scented perfume. If he blurred his vision a little, she could’ve been Chris. But she wasn’t Chris. 

Maybe that’s why she left. Maybe she got the vibe that he was preoccupied with her looking like his ex. 

Maybe it was because he said, ‘You remind me so much of my ex-wife,’ before they got to order dinner. 

His second date wasn’t much better. He was proud of himself for not going for another Chrissy look alike, but it was clear that this new girl was on a hunt for a husband. 

“So are you planning on getting the tattoos removed?” she had asked, pursing her red lips. He was surprised at how well her lipstick stayed on after eating a pasta dish. Whenever he wears makeup for a show, it smudges before the lights come up. 

“Uh, no why?” he asked.

“Just y’know, thinking ahead — family photos and whatever,” she shrugged. His mouth had never run so dry in his life. The chicken alfredo turned in his stomach. 

The third ended up being a quickie in the bar bathroom only for her to leave right after and unmatch him without as much as a ‘Thanks for a good night!’ He at least wanted to be a gentleman about it. 

The fourth fizzled out and neither of them felt the connection. 

The fifth felt weird because they had talked so much on the app that they didn’t have anything left to talk about when they went out for drinks. 

A month had gone by and all he had to show for it was five bad dates and dozens of unanswered chats. Eddie was found sitting in his bed in the dark, only the light on his phone keeping him illuminated while he thumbs through Instagram. Another app that he has for no reason, he never posts, he never shares anything. He just scrolls.

He wonders if Chrissy’s on Hinge. Eddie’s stomach lurches at the thought of coming across her profile. All blonde and blue eyes, all sweet and spunky, all the right answers to her curated questions. Photos of her in the Maldives, in her friend’s weddings, of her in Chicago after she moved. His heart hammers, sweat collects on his bare chest, heating up the chain lying flat against it until it sticks. He quickly swipes out of Instagram to his home screen, a photo of Robin and Steve flipping him off from the stage after a Corroded Show during load out. He holds his thumb on the app until all the apps shake, thumb hovering over the ‘x’ on the corner to delete the Hinge for good. 

What’s another three years of being single? 

“Ed?” he hears Tati on the other side of the door, her soft knock following her voice, “I got Indian and I’m not gonna eat it all. Gare doesn’t want it, you want it?” 

“Yeah, sure,” he hums. She opens the door and sighs at the darkness. He squints as the light pools in from the hallway and sees her lean her shoulder against the door frame.

“Are you in here sulking?” she asks, one brow raising.

“Yeah, Tat, I’m in here sulking,” he groans, laying flat on his mattress, “I like to sulk. Let me sulk.” 

“Don’t sulk,” she puts on a pout and flicks his light on, leaving the containers of rice and chicken saag. He groans when the light stings his eyes, tossing a forearm over his face. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice falling into kindergarten teacher territory. She never realized her profession would come so handy living with two grown men, “Why’re you being such a baby in here?” 

“I think I’m gonna delete the app,” he murmurs, still hiding under the protection of his tattooed arm. The pressure feels good on his face, releasing the tension starting to brew behind his eyes. He hadn’t eaten since his lunch period at work, the hunger was starting to catch up to him. 

“Don’t delete it,” she shakes her head, crawling onto the end of his bed. She takes her twists out of her jumbo claw clip and readjusts to pull them all back away from her face. Tati eases his phone out of his hand and slides her glasses on, flinging his dead arm off his face to use his Face ID. He whines, face scrunching is disapproval.

“I told you to stop doing that,” Eddie complains, sitting up against his pillows before crawling out of bed to get the food waiting on his dresser, “Do you have any naan or…?” 

“Do I look like a food bank, Munson? Damn,” she tilts her head and he raises his brows in a silent ‘Well, do you?’

She sighs deeply, “Yes, I have extra naan but you can only have it if you don’t delete the app and eat with us in the living room.” 

“Those are two totally different asks, Tati,” Eddie huffs. 

“I don’t make the rules,” she shrugs before starting to laugh, “Actually, I totally do.” 

The phone buzzes in her hand and Tatianna’s grin only widens when she sees the notification, “You have a new like.” 

“Whatever,” he shrugs, face laced with disappointment and frustration, “It’s gonna be another dud. Why bother if there’s no point? Like, this can’t actually be how people meet each other —“ 

Tatianna opens her mouth to protest but Eddie interrupts his own thought before she can speak, “You and Gareth are the anomaly.” 

“What if the sixth time’s a charm? She looks really cute,” She smiles, teeth bright against her smile, cheekbones glistening where her moisturized skin hits the light. 

He rolls his neck and sighs while Tatianna continues to encourage him, “Just try. You owe yourself that. Chrissy wouldn’t—.”

“Fuck Chrissy, Tat,” Eddie’s voice raises slightly, suddenly defensive. His chest burns at the sound of her name, heat rising up through his neck to his face,  “I don’t really give a fuck what Chrissy would and wouldn’t want. ‘Cause if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have to be on these stupid fucking apps.” 

“Whew, tell me how you really feel Ed,” she says while she stands up off the bed to walk towards him.

“Look, I get you’re still mad about how things went down with Chris. I know you’re still hurting, but you’re denying yourself a chance to start over — just shoot this girl a message. She seems cool,” Tati speaks so gently to him that he soothes instantly. She offers his phone, still open on the new profile — he’s hesitant at first but he takes it from her to look at the screen. 

There you are. You are cute. Your profile is simple: your name, age thirty, your opening tagline ‘idk i’m just out here i guess’. He lets a puff of air out of his nose at the sentiment — ‘Same,’ he thinks. 

“Fine,” he says finally, “I’ll look through her stuff and I’ll message her. Are you happy?” 

“Thrilled,” she smiles, “So thrilled that I’ll even let you have the extra samosa.” 

He follows her out of the room with his phone and food in hand, looking at her fondly when she passes him a tinfoil covered piece of naan in the kitchen, “You’re my best fucking friend, dude.” 

“I thought I was your best friend?” Gareth pouts from the kitchen table, D&D notes littered in front of him. 

Eddie scrunches his nose, tilting his head while he considers, “You’re alright I guess.” 

When the food is done and he’s gotten a proper look at your profile he decides to bite the bullet — fingers shaking while he matches back with you. He doesn’t start with ‘hey’ this time because Robin and Steve said that was boring, so he tries something new: 

wild that you’re just ‘out here’, me too. 

…

…

…

lol, twin behavior. how’s your night?

Eddie’s heart hammers at the response. He’s surprised at the reaction, he hadn’t had that with any of his other chats, normally expecting them to die off after the first ‘Hey, how are you?’ pleasantry. But maybe this could be different, maybe this could be fun. 

scored some indian food from one of my roommates so it’s one of my better nights. 

ooh, i’m so jealous. i have buyers remorse from some baked ziti i ordered. should’ve just made it.

what did you get?

chicken saag, still jealous?

i’m more of a saag paneer girl but consider me over here seething.

Eddie grins into the phone, cheeks hot while he thinks about what to say back. He skims over your profile again, eyes stilling at a photo of you laughing on what looks like a cruise deck. The sun hits you like a golden streak across your eyes. The caption reads ‘the last time i felt a single shred of genuine happiness’, he huffs an airy giggle before going back to the chat. 

you’re funny, did you know that?

um ya, i’m the funniest person i know, actually. 🥰

that's crazy cause i’m the funniest person i know. and since now i know you, it’s looking like we gotta battle for who the funniest is.

Jesus fucking Christ Munson, why can’t you just be normal? Why can you just say ‘lol’ and call it a night? He frets. His leg bounces while he waits for your reply, food rolling in his stomach. The cool metal of his rings is welcomed on his warm cheeks while he leans against his hand on the arm of the couch. The few minutes he waits for the buzz of his phone feel like eternities. But there you are to save him from his embarrassment:

lmao okay. where did you wanna battle?

there’s a bar in the city that i think could host. you around tomornight?

tommorow night* sorry, fuck, i was trying so hard to be smooth with it.

TOMORROW***** FUCK. LET ME LOG OFF FOR ETERNITY REAL QUICK.

yiiiiikes! embarrassing. but this proves you actually might be funnier than me. i’m not a sore loser so i’ll go on a date with you if that’s what you’re asking.

do you drink? it doesn’t have to be a bar.

i do! where did you have in mind?

there’s a spot called little spoon saloon in the city if you’re familiar. sorta cozy.

oh yeah sounds great for a battle 🙄

but yeah i know it, that’s not too far from my place. maybe we’ve seen each other before and never known it. two ships passing in the night~*

does seven work for you? i know it’s a monday, so we can do earlier if you gotta be up early or something.

sevens fine :)

okay :)

:)

:)

see ya tomorrow! Eddie bites his lower lip, breathing steadily through his nose while he sends over his number. Anything to get out of looking at the app for at least another day, anything to spare him from potentially running into Chrissy’s profile despite her being in a different state. It was getting close to the holidays, she could be around at any moment. 

Before he can spiral, his phone buzzes again – this time a text from an unknown number. His grin widens, too caught up in the excitement bubbling in his chest to feel Tatianna’s stare from the recliner. hi, it's me. jsyk if you don't reach out by like, two tomorrow -- i'm considering it a cancellation and i do have a 50% cancellation fee. sorry! 

50%? stop selling yourself so short, kid. but don’t worry, i won’t cancel. no? you’re not scared to battle? i’m never scared of a battle. :) (A lie.) see you tomorrow. 

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Tatianna smiles, cheeks tight from being unable to hide her excitement. “Are you talking to a girrrrrl?” Gareth teases. Eddie let’s out a ‘tssss’ while he stands up and stretches, quirking a brow at his best friend. “Is it a girl? You takin’ her out?” he asks again. “Yeah G, it’s your mom,” he shrugs, “Night y’all.” “Ed,” Tati whines, “Come on.” Pink floats across his cheeks, itching his nose to hide his goofy smile behind his hand. “Yeah, it’s a girl. And yeah, I’m taking her on a date tomorrow,” he groans. Tatianna squeals, shimmying with giddiness while the recliner rocks with her. Eddie’s too caught up in hiding his face, “Ugh, she’s cuuuute, Tati, what am I supposed to do?” 

“Show her what she’s been missing,” Tati shrugs, “Everyone needs an Eddie.” 

Last night, Eddie fell asleep caught in a memory that became a dream. He’s eight years old at the YMCA, Wayne sitting in the stands watching him – this is maybe two weeks after his dad dropped him off before he got sent to prison. Wayne wanted to make sure his schedule stayed the same as it could, so Saturday swim lessons it was – today was diving off the block. Eddie had been dreading this lesson for a month, knowing that level 2.5 meant you had to at least try. In level two, they had you stand on the block just to get used to it. He could barely breathe for the ten seconds it was up there, tears stinging his eyes while his teacher encouraged him to come closer to the edge. Three of his classmates had already asked if they were allowed to jump off. It looked fun but it was just so high up. What if it hurts? What if he landed the wrong way? He was up soon, standing behind the block with the rest of the kids, shivering from being out of the water. He could dive off the edge of the pool just fine – in fact, his teacher said he was a great diver, especially for an eight year old. So it should be no problem to dive off the block, he just had to do the same thing he always does. Just higher. 

Gareth, before Gareth was his best friend, climbs up the block and puts his feet at the edge of the white plastic and metal. His teacher, Miss Tiffany, tells him to put his arms up and bend his knees and to dive at the whistle. The whistle blows and Gareth leaps – but he doesn’t dive smoothly into the water. 

“BELLY FLOP!” Jason Carver yells from the edge of the pool where all the kids who already dove sat. They start teasing him relentlessly, Miss Tiffany helping him out of the water to inspect his red belly. Tears well up in Gareth’s eyes, his mom leaning over the bannister from the seating area. “Are you okay, baby?” she asks. Gareth burns red with embarrassment, only encouraging the cackling kids to get crueler. 

Miss Tiffany puffs her whistle three times, “If you tease again, you’re not allowed to go to free swim. Do you understand me?” 

The group quiets, slowly kicking their feet in the water. “Alright Eddie, you’re up next!” 

He gulps, climbing up on the block slowly before standing to full height with his eyes closed. He takes a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, like his Uncle Wayne taught him to do when he was feeling nervous. When Eddie’s eyes opened, a chill ran through his chest – for some reason the block seemed higher than ever. 

“Ready Freddie?” Miss Tiffany asked, treading water in her red bathing suit. She grinned up at him, knowing that the phrase always made him giggle – but not today. 

“Arms up, knees bent,” she continues. Ed looks down at the water and the room spins, he can hear Jason and the class giggling. Hear the splashes from the kicks of their feet. 

The whistle blows. He doesn’t move. The whistle blows, again. He puts his arms down. “You okay, Eddie? You can do it! You’re a great diver!” she cheers. 

Eddie chews on his lower lip, thinking about the smack of the water when it hit Gareth’s stomach. The laughter. The teasing. The potential of the pain. The whistle blows again. Eddie climbs down off the block, sniffling when he makes it back to the pool deck, “I don’t want to Miss Tiffany.”  

“C’mon Ed, I know you can do it! Do you want me to save you for last?” she asks, her smile still bright and encouraging. Eddie sniffles again, eyes burning with tears while Jason and his friends start to tease him, too. “Swimming sucks,” he bites, stomping towards the boys room, grabbing his ratty towel off one of the benches on the way in. He’s only in the locker room for a few minutes before he hears the door open and Wayne’s apologetic voice talking to Miss Tiffany from the deck floor.

“He’s just goin’ through a lot right now,” Wayne says, his gruff voice rattling off the metal of the room. 

“Eddie?” Tiffany’s voice calls. 

“Come out here, son,” Wayne calls, “Y’know, if your decent.”  

Eddie sniffles back his tears again, shuffling over to the door while Miss Tiffany waits with his Uncle.

“Do you maybe wanna stay a little late today and we can practice diving off the block when class is over?” she offers, “I know it can be scary to do it in front of your classmates, but I want you to pass to level three!” 

“No thanks Miss Tiffany,” he mumbles to the tiles on the floor. 

“That’s okay Eddie, maybe we can try again next week. How’s that sound? I know you can do it,” she says softly. 

“Okay,” he murmurs before turning on his heel and moping back into the locker room. Wayne was waiting by the check in desk when Eddie emerged after changing, his ratty towel slung off his shoulder. 

“You okay?” Wayne asked.

“Yeah, can we just go home?” 

“Sure kid, was gonna stop and get us some lunch if you wanted,” Wayne’s eyes crinkle with his smile, “Wanna go to McDonalds?” 

Eddie returns the smile half heartedly, “Yeah.”

They walk to Wayne’s pick-up hand in hand, despite some parents thinking he’s ‘too old’ to be doing that. He needed the support, and his uncle was never one to make him feel like he didn’t have it. 

“So d’you wanna try again next week? Your starting form was great, buddy,” Wayne asks while Eddie puts his seatbelt on. Eddie considers it. Getting to the edge of the block and making Jason Carver eat his own words. Making him look like a loser for a change. 

But the words ring in his ear ‘BELLY FLOP!’ The relentless teasing if he didn’t do it this week and then messed up next week. He’d be a baby and a joke. 

“I don’t wanna do swimming anymore, Uncle Wayne,” he huffs.

“You sure?” his uncle frowns, putting the car into gear, “You’re really good, Ed. Y’could be on the swim team.” 

“I don’t wanna come back. I quit,” he repeats. He crosses his arms while they pull out of the parking lot, watching the rest of the kids pool out of the doors with smiles on.

Eddie wakes up to his alarm blaring, back in his 32 year old body. He swears that the air of his bedroom smells like chlorine.

Eddie made sure to text you at 1:59 PM like an asshole. 

still on for tonight? :)

so close to having to pay my cancellation fee. 

but yes, still on for tonight :) 

sorry, work’s been wild today. would’ve texted you sooner!

you’re off the hook…

for now. 😡

He likes your little attitude, he decides. That little hint of sass in your messages keeps him on his toes and it’s not lost on him that this is probably how you flirt. He wonders, selfishly, how easy you are to fluster. You both exchange a few back and forths before he’s finishing up work for the day and heading to Wheeler’s for a campaign chat. 

The texts completely drop off while he gets ready to see you. He takes an extra long time in the shower, using the tiniest squeeze of Tati’s curl cream when he comes out because it makes his hair look good. He scrubs his face raw before shaving, following up with the skin care routine he kept up with, even though Chrissy curated it for him. 

Once dressed, he stepped quietly out to the living room to grab his jacket in the closet and pull out his boots. 

“You used my curl cream, I see,” Tatianna crosses her arms. He blushes. 

“Don’t be mad, I just wanna look good,” he puts on a faux pout, eyes rounding while he slides the leather over arms.

“You look really good,” she smiles, “It’s gonna be great.” 

Eddie shoves his socked feet in his Docs, worn in from years of wear, and looks up at her, “I’m kind of excited.” 

“You should be! I don’t know, I just have a really good feeling about this one,” she smirks, “Text me at some point, let me know how it goes.” 

“It’s a better indicator if he doesn’t text you, Tati,” Gareth says, coming up behind her, “You look sharp, dude.” 

“Sharp?” Eddie rolls his eyes, “What’re you? Eighty?” 

Tatianna clicks on her phone to look at the time, “Can you get the fuck outta here? You’re gonna be late!” 

“I’m going, I’m going!” he laughs, arms up while he grabs his keys from the hook by the door, “Wish me luck, bye!” 

Eddie felt sick. Suddenly feeling like he was standing at the edge of the pool in ‘98.

When he got his keys in the ignition of his Honda Civic, a text came through immediately. He swallowed tightly, in some way expecting it to be you. In some way, expecting you to be canceling on him. 

Instead, it was Tatianna in the big group chat: 

here, we made a playlist for you

Eddie clicks on the Spotify link and laughs. First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182

And so on. The music automatically connects, the opening guitar ripping through his speakers. Eddie quickly types up a response on his phone before pulling out into the street. 

very creative, edwards.

someone in this house has to be. ‘In the car, I just can't wait, to pick you up on our very first date. Is it cool if I hold your hand? Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?’ He rolls his eyes as Mark and Tom serenade him in the car, laughing at the lyrics. It’d been a while since he’d listened to this album, let alone this song. While he won’t admit it to Gareth or his girlfriend, it was exactly what he needed before he got to the bar. 

‘Do you like my stupid hair? Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear? I'm just scared of what you think, you make me nervous so I really can't eat.’ “Let’s go, don’t wait, this night’s almost over,” he sings along, fingers tapping on his steering wheel while he waits at a red light. He’s on the fourth replay of the song by the time he pulls up. The ignition cuts off the lyrics before the chorus, he takes a big breath before opening the door. Just a couple minutes past seven, but he told you he was running a little late, so you wouldn’t be mad. His phone buzzes to Robin, Steve, and Jeff reacting to the playlist Tati sent. Alicia, Jeff, and Nancy sent him sweet good luck messages. Robin and Steve sent them a picture from a bar they were at, flipping him off. ‘Break a leg, dingus,’ came in her follow up voice memo. Eddie considers making this new picture his phone background. 

He swallows hard when he gets to the door, his bottom lip getting pulled between his teeth in apprehension. He nods to himself, “You got this, Munson.”  Another deep breath, he’s still ten, he’s still afraid to dive off the diving block. What if it hurts? What if he belly flops? 

‘What if you don’t? What if you dive this time?’ He thinks to himself. He opens the door to the bar, his ten year old self puts one foot on the diving block. The chatter of a few conversations at once is disorienting, so is the low light of the bar in comparison to the neon outside. The man at the entrance asks for his ID and he awkwardly fumbles for his wallet as if it’s not obvious he’s been old enough to drink for eleven years. “Here, man,” he says, somehow nervous he’ll get caught with a fake like he’s nineteen again. The security’s light flashes over his birthdate and he passes it back with a short and gruff thank you. Eddie takes a few steps before checking his phone to remind him what you said you’d be wearing.

in a red cut off sweatshirt, jeans that look like dickies – hard to miss! white airforces! i’m here, looking for you if you can’t spot me just approach the most off putting girl at the bar, it’s probably me :) 

He smiles into the light of his phone. You’re are funny. His phone lights up again, another text bubble added to your previous one. Eddie’s heart hammers in his chest when he looks at it, knowing you’re really only moments away. got you a guinness cause that’s what you said you liked on your profile. it looks like battery acid tbh. there’s a couple seats by the end of the bar, i’ll grab them. He looks up from his phone finally to see a blur of red start maneuvering over to the end of the bar. That’s you. Oh shit, that’s you. Oh shit, you’re – fuck. You have a fat fucking ass in those jeans. He swallows again, shaking the horny thoughts out of his head through the tendrils of his hair. Another deep breath through the nose, out of the water to the diving block just to dive again. He walks the length of the bar and hears his name, your voice in real life – not through a voice note or on your profile. “Ed?” 

Eddie catches your eye and his heart sinks and leaps so quickly he thinks he’s going into cardiac arrest. You’re real pretty, even more so when you grin at him from a few feet away. You wave him over and he does his best to walk confidently towards you, taking his jacket off while he does. He doesn’t know it, but the other girls at the bar are looking. He’s all broad shoulders and dark tattoos, two silver chains and understated rings. Full lips and doe eyes. Tatianna never told a lie, he was unmistakably handsome – he just didn’t know what to do with it. You toss your hair when you speak to the bartender from the end of the bar with a bright smile. The man puts two drinks in front of you and you leave cash in their wake. Eddie winces when he sees you pay, but tries to ignore the sting. In a way, it feels like he’s already losing – like he’s playing Sims with Robin and he’s not on track to get a gold reward on date night. You’re hot and you know it, but he can tell it’s like you just found out. Your eyes are flirty no matter what you’re looking at, you’re full bodied and it’s like you know it’s making him salivate. Eddie can’t help but be nervous when he takes a seat next to you, fingers immediately drumming on the bar top in front of him. “Guinness for you,” you say, sliding the pint glass in front of him. “Thanks,” he smiles, “You didn’t have to do that. I asked you out, you’re not supposed to be paying for me.” 

“I know, but – why don’t you get the next one and we’ll call it even?” you offer. He nods while he takes a sip, eyeing the lighter orangey liquid in your glass. “Did you get a cider?” he teases. 

“It’s a grapefruit beer, thank you,” your brows furrow at him while you take a sip. You have a good face, part of him wants to say that but it seems like a weird compliment. ‘Nice face.’ Like, what does that even mean? His tongue feels heavy, he can feel the sweat building under his curly bangs. “Weaksauce,” he laughs, scrunching his nose, “Grapefruit beer? Not for me, toots.” 

“Yeah, because you drink battery acid!” you tease back, “You’re a stout snob, huh?”

“Nah, just never heard of grapefruit beer. I always drink Guinness – or like, Miller light. Never really stray,” he shrugs. 

“You wanna try mine?” you ask, sliding the glass to him. 

“You sure?” he watches you nod and brings the beer to his lips. It’s tart, a little bubbly, hitting his tongue on the off beat from the stout before. It settles and then it’s sweet, he wonders if you’re the same. Eddie smacks his lips, “I don’t hate it.” 

“That’s such a stout snob thing for you to say,” you pull a face, bringing your drink back to sit in front of you. “I’d offer you a sip of mine but I know you don’t like it,” he smiles, “Wouldn’t want to ruin the taste of your dessert beer.” “Fuck off,” you shake your head and smile, taking another sip of your drink. The Guinness in his hand makes him feel less nervous, but not all the way – toeing the line of the end of the diving block but not scared to look down into the water. He can tell you’re nervous too by the way you pick at a hangnail on your thumb absentmindedly, the way you cross and uncross your legs. Eddie’s eyes linger for a moment at the way they spill over each other, squishing flat on the seat of the stool when you keep them uncrossed. He tries to discreetly follow the line of your thighs to your hips, up to your waist before getting ahead of himself and pulling his eyes away. 

“How was your day?” you ask. Not the question he was expecting. “My day?” he asks, brows raised while he tries to recollect anything before getting ready to see you. “Uh, my day was good. Yours?” You fucking dumbass, you couldn’t just spare one detail? She’s gonna think you’re an asshole. “It was fine,” you answer quietly. Your smile fades a little and he feels a panicked chill rush in his chest. “S-sorry, I should’ve elaborated. I sound like such a dick, sorry,” Eddie feels the heat creeping up on his cheeks, a clamminess starting up at his hairline, “I um, I went to work. Came home, went to a friend’s house for a minute and we talked about a campaign we’re putting together next weekend. I had some dinner, and then I started getting ready to see you and um – uh, now I’m here.” “Campaign? Are you a politician or somethin’?” you quirk a brow while you look him over. He feels insecure under your gaze, he hopes you like his tattoos.  

“No, no, it’s for Dungeons and Dragons.” Saying it outloud makes him feel like a loser, even though you don’t react like you think so. 

“Cool,” you smile. 

“Do you like, even know what that is?” Defensive already, waiting for you to make fun of him. Waiting for this to end up another mistake. Waiting to belly flop. 

“Yeah, I know what it is,” you answer quietly again, this time your shoulders, “Have some friends that play.” 

“Oh, cool. Cool,” Eddie nods, chest tightening, toying with his rings while you reach for your drink, “Um, I’m — yeah, sorry if that came off like, dickish. I didn’t mean to—.” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you shake your head when you say it, almost like it’s rehearsed. Like you’re always ‘okay’-ing something. 

“Sometimes people think it’s weird when I tell them, I dunno,” he shrugs, still looking down at his rings, “If I’m being honest I haven’t been so great at this whole dating thing.” 

You smile again and he looks up in time to see it, his breath hitches. You’re very pretty. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I learned how to play Magic the Gathering twice to impress a boy. Two different ones,” you grimace, scrunching your nose, “Gross right?” 

“Oof, that’s rough,” he jokes, “Magic the Gathering? That’s like, way worse than D&D.”

“Well the difference between you and me, is that I don’t still play,” you bite back, cocking your head while you take another drink. “Didn’t impress those boys after all, huh?” he raises a brow and your mouth falls open in faux offense. 

“You’re so mean,” you gasp.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he drawls, “Should’ve put that in my profile.” 

“Oh, so you are mean?” you grin. 

“The meanest,” he grins back, teeth straight and shiny. Full lips pulled tight against them, “How was your day?” “I worked,” you shrug, “Not as exciting.” 

“What do you do?” he asks, turning towards you on the stool, leaning one arm on the bar. He relaxes into the seat, legs spreading wide while his free hand runs nervously over his thigh.

“I’m a personal assistant to a jewelry maker,” you let out a half chuckle through your nose, “It sounds fake when I say it out loud. But basically, I just keep her schedule and run errands and keep her shit in order. She’s an older woman and she’s not the most tech savvy in the world — great at what she does though, really eccentric but I feel like you gotta be when you work in the arts like that.” 

“That’s cool,” he says softly, watching you talk, “What kind of jewelry does she make?” 

“Oh you’ll love this, since you like D&D and stuff,” you start, your excitement is infectious, his heart thrums, “She makes fine jewelry for the most part, but also makes anodized chain mail jewelry and wearable pieces for theater and ren fairs on the side. I told you, eccentric.” 

“Oh, so she’s a little alchemist, huh?” he smirks. 

“Kinda, yeah,” you shrug, heat hitting your cheeks while he keeps his gaze on you, “It’s cool to watch the first few times, and then you get bored.” 

“I’m sure it’s the same for people who watch my band,” he laughs. You shake your head, a curve pulling from the corners of your lips while you finish your beer. 

“Alchemist,” you repeat with a playful roll of your eyes, “You’re such a nerd.” 

“What do you do for work?” he notices you fully turn when you ask, your knees toward him. He remembers Steve telling him once that it was always a good sign when they do that. Like Steve knows anything about body language and dating these days, he’s been platonically attached to Robin for years. His little guard dog. 

“I’m a teacher,” he replies, knocking back the remainder of the Guinness in his glass.  

“Hm,” you hum, looking him over suspiciously, “That’s surprising.” 

“I work at a performing arts school,” he rolls his eyes, “It’s 2023, I’m allowed to have tattoos.” “What do you teach?” you squint when you look him over a second time, “Actually, let me guess – drama?” 

“Music theory,” he corrects. 

“Ooh, big brain,” you joke, “That’s cool.” 

“Big brain? I don’t know about that, I just like music,” he shrugs, “It makes sense to me.” “When I was in high school everyone always talked about how hard music theory was – like, all the band kids,” you explain, there’s a sparkle starting to glint in your eye when you talk to him. “You were hanging out with the band kids?” he tosses a sarcastic knowing look before taking his glass in his hands, “And I’m a nerd? I dunno girl, it’s not looking good for you here...” “Even worse, I was dating one,” you grimace back. “Fuuuuck, you were really fighting for your life in 2009 huh?” Eddie laughs low, lower lip tucking in between his teeth to run his tongue over it. 

“2007, 2008 all the way to like, 2016,” you hide your face in one hand and he wishes you wouldn’t. 

“Damn, that’s a long time,” he observes, “You didn’t marry that guy?” 

You lift your head back up, and shake your head, “It was on and off for a long time, he’s not a fan favorite. It’s uh – it’s why I normally don’t date musicians. I almost didn’t match with you ‘cause of your first picture.” 

Fucking Tatianna. 

“Eek, sorry,” Eddie puts his hands up, “Should I go?” “Do you play bass?” you wince.

“I play a lot of instruments,” he chuckles, “I can play the bass. But I’m not like…a bass player, if you know what I mean.” 

“Oh, I know what you mean,” you breathe out a sigh of relief, “Made that mistake more than once.” “What’s your favorite instrument that you play?” you ask, it’s almost girlish. He ponders it while you cross your legs, the toe of your shoe barely brushing the back of his calf but he knows it's there. You rest your chin on your fist while you watch him think about it. His brown eyes glint in the reflection of the light overhead, plush lips parted while he runs his hands over his stubble. “I think I’d have to say…electric guitar? I’ve been playing that the longest,” he hopes you think that’s cool. “Is it the same one that’s in your pictures?” 

“The Warlock?” he asks with a grin, “Yeah, that’s my girl. Best relationship of my life, prob’ly the only lady who talks more than me.” 

“It’s really nice. I like the color.” 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, eyes darting to your knees where they sit between his, “Um, can I get you another drink? Do you want a beer or…?” 

“If I get a real drink will you stop making fun of my beer?” 

“I promise.” He slides off the stool, sad to see your close proximity to him fade away when he stands up. 

“They have food here, right? I’m sort of hungry, if that’s okay,” your voice gets sheepish when you ask. 

“Yeah, that’s okay. Did you eat dinner?” The words fall out of him too fondly. 

“I had like, a huge spinach salad,” you explain, “Might not have been enough.” 

Something tells him to press further before he buys you more liquor, lest this date go to the wayside too quickly, “Did you eat lunch?” 

“I worked through lunch.” 

“Did you eat breakfast?” 

“I had a smoothie,” you confess. 

“Okay, so before I get you a drink, why don’t I get you some chicken fingers or something?” he insists. You’re shy in your smile back to him, nodding along at his advice. Yes, you should eat more before you keep drinking with him. He doesn’t want you to think he’s just trying to get you tipsy, he’s never been that kind of guy – even when he’d bring home girls from the bar. (They’d at least be the same level of totally obliterated as he was.)

He beams back at you when you nod, “Atta girl.” 

He doesn’t notice when your thighs clench. 

The last chicken finger is eaten, the last fry of the basket he got for you to split crunched through. The conversation had lulled, not because you weren’t interesting – the nerves were getting to him, creeping up like vines along his chest. The look over the diving block at the water, it’s slow waves teasing him to jump. 

“So um,” you began, swallowing your final fry and wiping your hands on a napkin, “Since you’re a teacher, how was school today?” 

Eddie’s so used to this question that his response doesn’t change, always the same quote from the same movie. Forgetting he doesn’t know you like that, his mouth moves quicker than his desire to play things off cool.

“The worst day of my life, what do you think? Gosh!” Eddie sounds more like John Heder in 2004 than John Heder does now – but when he hears himself say it, he’s immediately embarrassed. Eddie opens his mouth to apologize, nervous you won’t understand but instead – you laugh. And what a sound that is for him to hear. 

“Oh, shit. I haven’t watched Napoleon Dynamite in years. Like, not since grade school.” Eddie laughs with you, “Sorry, sorry, that’s like my go-to reaction at home when my roommates ask me that. I should’ve said something more normal like, ‘It was fine. The kids can’t stop trying to take TikTok fancams of me.”

“Roommates? Fancams? You’re so hip, tell me more,” you enthuse. He puts a finger up to stop you at first, locking eyes with the bartender so he can finally order another round of drinks. 

“What kind of real drink do you want?” he asks. 

“Just a marg on the rocks, salt,” you shrug. 

“Psh, I said a real drink,” Eddie teases with a roll of the eyes, but they soften when you go to argue back, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” 

His toes inch towards the middle of the diving block.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he flirts. Eddie can see the heat hit your cheeks, the creep of a smile slowly curving upwards, you’re embarrassed. Nervous like he is. Maybe this is going just fine. 

When the drinks arrive he slides the margarita towards you and sips his own Jack and Coke slowly through the tiny bar straw. 

“Okay, so. I have two roommates. Gareth, who’s been my best friend since I was nine; and Tatianna who has been my best friend since I was twenty-nine,” he explains. 

“So why aren’t you dating Tatianna?” you challenge. You miss the straw when you reach for it with your mouth, it slides over to the other side of the cup. You try again and miss, cheeks burning while Eddie looks at you continue to fuck up. His eyes glint mischievously while you hold in your frustrated laughter, “Stop looking at me.” 

“It’s fine, I’ll wait while you get your life figured out over there,” he jokes, checking ‘the time’ on his wrist, “Shouldn’t be too long until you finally get it.” 

“You’re so annoying,” you grit out playfully while you capture the straw between your teeth, “Should’ve put that on your profile, too.”

“Anyway,” he continues, “I’m not dating Tatianna because Gare’s going to propose to her when they go on vacation in a few weeks.”

 “Oh! Yeah, that makes sense,” you nod, “Probably not a good idea to date your best friend’s almost wife.” 

“Yeah, definitely not well advised,” he shakes his head, pulling his hair up off of his neck for a minute before dropping it down, “Plus, her last name is Edwards and I dunno…don’t think I could live with myself if I was ‘Eddie Edwards’.”

You laugh again and he hoped you would. It’s a goofy laugh, you don’t try to sound cute when you do it. He knows you must be a loud laugher, if your small ones are any preview to what you could really do. You don’t sound like Chrissy. Her laugh was dainty, feathery. Like how they teach you to giggle in an etiquette class – all soft edges, all smooth lines. 

“You wanna take the girl’s last name?” you raise your brows, “Very forward thinking. Progressive.” 

“I don’t know, something about it’s kinda hot right?” he asks cock of his head, “Plus, my dad sucks so I don’t want to keep repping him by having his last name.” 

“Oh wow, my dad sucks, too,” you reply cheerily, “We have so much in common!” 

“What was it you said before? ‘Twin behavior’?” 

“Twin behavior, yes!” your hands meet both of his knees where he sits across from you, your tone is light and earnest, “You get me.”

Eddie takes in a hitch of breath, desperate to keep his cool when he feels your hands on him. It’s not even sexy but he could shoot straight to the moon if you asked him to. You use his knees as leverage to hop down from your stool, grabbing your drink before nudging him with your hip. 

“If we’re still battling though, there’s an air hockey table in the back room if you wanna play,” you offer. 

“Are you any good?” he wonders, hopping off the stool to follow you to the back. 

“I’m amazing,” you grin, “Actually won seventeen first place trophies in the intergalactic air hockey competition – of course I’m fucking bad at it, that’s why it’s fun to play.” 

Eddie laughs this time, it’s gruff and nicotine soaked. You’re already winning the battle for funniest person – you’re sharp with him and he’s starting to like it. He runs his hand over the side of the air hockey table in the empty back room, more and more pleased that he put this date together on a Monday. He slides a dollar into the machine so it whirs to life, the neon lights flicking on with a stutter. 

“This reminds me of birthday parties when I was a kid,” you muse to yourself, reaching for the hockey disc trapped in your goal, “Can you help me?” 

He nods, hand grazing your back to get you out of the way – you’re warm to the touch. If he was a braver man he would’ve pulled you into him but he’s not, instead squatting down to reach further into the goal where your game piece was. 

“Hm,” he murmurs, reaching further back and barely touching the top of it, “It’s in here, it’s just back there. I can get it, just –” he sucks his teeth like he did the night before, getting to his knees to try. Music plays over head, stuff the new crop of bar goers would consider oldies. You smile at the opening ‘Damn, shawty snappin’...’ of T-Pain’s ‘Buy U A Drank’, but even more surprised when you hear Eddie sing along softly to himself. 

“Snap ya fingers, do yuh step, you can do it all by yourself. Babygirl, what’s your name?” “Not you knowing the lyrics,” you laugh. 

“I was in highschool in 2007 of course, I know the lyrics,” he huffs, standing up, “I think it’s a bust for air hockey.” 

“That’s fine,” you shrug, “We tried.” 

“I know the club, close at three,” he lip syncs to himself before, turning his attention to you, “What’s the chances of you rollin’ with me?” 

You back and forth to each other in time with the lyrics before settling back down in your spot at bar. 

“You even know the Yung Joc part? Damn,” you laugh again, he loves it. 

“Why’re you so surprised? Is it the tattoos?” he asks. 

“Well yeah, you definitely give off a ‘loved Avenged Sevenfold’ in high school vibe,” you scooch your stool closer to his, your knees slotting between his open ones like a perfect puzzle. It’s not enough though, and he’s not sure if it’s himself or the Jack and Coke that encourages him, but he reaches for one of the legs of your stool to pull you closer. 

“Hey,” he says, your faces only a few inches apart. 

“Hey,” you respond. You catch his eyes flick briefly to your lips before they meet yours again. You can see the light smatter of freckles over his nose, long faded from the summer. 

“You’re right, I was really into Avenged Sevenfold when I was in highschool.” 

“I figured. I was into that whole scene thing, back then. All those singers that are mad at their dad’s and like, in retrospect, all hate women I guess,” you realize it as you speak. 

“I probably would’ve thought you were cute,” he guesses. 

“No, you would’ve called me a poser,” you correct, “Don’t lie.” 

He hesitates before nodding, “No, no, you’re right I definitely would’ve called you a poser. Did you like Fall Out Boy and all of that shit?” 

“Don’t shit on the music I liked,” you frown, “That’s not cool.” 

“I’m not, I’m not,” he assures, pulse speeding, “I promise, I’m not. I’m sorry.” You continue talking about music, high school, college, some ins and outs. Nothing too serious. Nothing too intense. But by now, Eddie’s feeling nice and if one thing’s for certain:

He wants to fucking kiss you. Toes at the edge of the diving block, Miss Tiffany’s whistle caught between her teeth. 

“So now that we’re three drinks in, can I ask you a personal question?” you ask, your eyes a little glassy. You’ve confessed that you’re tipsy, but aware, that if you have one more drink you won’t be – so Eddie already paid the tab. 

“What do you wanna know?” he asks.

“Why’re you,” you enunciate, implying he’s something, “On the apps? It’s hard to believe that someone like you would be single. Unless you have like, something deeply wrong with you, but you’ve been all green flags so far.” 

Your hand falls back to his knee and he eyes it before sliding his own hand down his thigh to lace your fingers with his. 

“You want the real story?” he asks, lifting your hand up of his knee to play with your fingers in both of his hands while he talks. His hands are warm and calloused on the fingertips, but the rest are soft. Lacing and unlacing, running his thumb up the lengths of your fingers, tracing your palm. 

“The real story.” 

“You gonna tell me why you’re on the apps after?” 

“Sure,” you nod. You look gentle, at ease. He eases in, too. 

“I got divorced in 2020,” he confesses. It feels like a weight off his chest to tell you, “Married my high school sweetheart, things were great for a long time, but y’know. People grow and – the pandemic was not kind to us.”

“Oh, I’m…I’m sorry to hear that,” you offer softly. 

“It’s okay,” he smiles tightly. “I guess I was both surprised and not surprised at all when she broke up with me. Almost relieved, I guess – that I didn’t have to play the part of her husband anymore. Not that she was a bad wife or anything, she was great she just – I don’t know,” he rambles, “And I don’t know, I just threw myself into work and my friends after. Girls after shows. Was too scared to like – go on dates incase it ended up like my marriage and –” 

He laughs, “My friends were tired of seeing me be so sad, I guess.” 

“You have such a solid support system,” you comment, “You mention your friends, like, every other sentence.” 

A beat. “I like that,” you nod and smile. He can’t get over how you look when you do that. 

“Why’re you on the apps?” he asks, your hand now cradled between the two of his, his fingers grazing your wrist. 

“I’m six months out of a six year long relationship,” you let out a breath through your nose and drop your shoulders a little, “Figured it was time to get back out there – enter my slut era.” 

“Oh yeah, you’re super slutty,” he teases, “That’s actually the first thing I thought when I saw you. ‘She’s in her slut era.’” “God, fuck offfff,” you giggle again. 

“But yeah, I ended it. I figure I should make that clear,” you say, “Just in case that’s like, a red flag for you. But I don’t know, we just weren’t growing in the same directions. Things felt done way before I left and I – I don’t know. I think I was just scared. I took some time for myself and now, here I am.” 

“It’s okay that you ended your relationship, it’s not a red flag,” Eddie’s voice soothes you when he says it, “If you told me you like, cheated on him and then hit him with your car then maybe yeah, I’d be a little concerned. But you’re an adult, you just know what you want better this time around.”

“Yeah,” you agree. Your eyes meet in a silent confirmation. His eyes flick to your lips for a second time before tucking his lower lip between his teeth again. 

BELLY FLOP! 

“You wanna head out? It’s getting a little late,” he offers. 

Your brows raise in surprise, “Uh, sure, yeah.” 

“Not that I don’t like spending time with you,” he assures, letting his fingers linger over your hand while he stands up, not wanting to lose contact just yet, “Just don’t want to keep you out too late.” 

“Oh yes!” you start with an old southern twang, “My daddy’ll be out there with his pistol if I don’t get home ‘fore sundown.”

“You’re funny,” he laughs, letting go over your hand to reach up and squeeze your cheeks affectionately. You both put on your jackets and head outside, both of you wincing in the cold of the winter air. 

“I’d really like to do this again, if you want,” a shy blush reaches his cheeks, meeting the pink from the cold. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you’re just as shy in your response, “This was fun. You’re fun.” 

“Thank you,” he flushes deeper, trying to prolong the inevitable. What if he belly flops? What if it hurts? What if the kids make fun of him? 

“I’d offer to drive you home but I’ve had a few,” he says, hand reaching out to fall on your shoulder, “I feel good to drive but like, god forbid anything happens so – I’m happy to get you a car or pay for it for you.” 

“That’s really sweet, thanks. Let me just um,” you pull out your phone to get in Uber with a speed that impresses him, “It’s really not that pricey, I’m close-ish by.” 

“Still,” he says, “Just wanna be a gentleman y’know?” 

“You’re very gentlemanly,” you flirt. Eddie stiffens, nervous, palms clammy. 

“So um, I’ll see you soon?” he asks, opening his arms to give you a hug. 

“Yeah, for sure,” you nod while you let him engulf you. His scent is warm and spicy, mixed with tobacco. You guess either still smokes, or he used to, but he never got up to have a cigarette in the hours you were at the bar. Eddie let’s go and cups your cheek briefly before giving you a gentle but winning smile. His warm brown eyes linger for the last time on your lips, now they’re slightly parted, waiting for him. His toes curl over the edge of the diving block, his knees are bent, arms up over his head...I don’t want to Miss Tiffany. 

Swimming sucks.

“See ya.” 

You quirk your brow for a moment, having expected much more than a hug, “Oh, um…see ya.” 

He walks half way down the street to his car, heart thrumming in his chest in embarrassment. He should’ve just done it. FUCK. He should’ve just kissed you. 

But what if it hurts? What if she leaves? What if you can’t make it to level three? What if they laugh at you? 

He breathes heavily through his nose while tears threaten to well up in his eyes, staining his eyelashes. What if you don’t want to see him again after this? What if you change your mind? He sighs audibly when he turns the key, phone auto connecting to the speakers. He turns up the radio while the car revs to life, pulling on his seatbelt and putting the wheels into gear. He leans back in his seat to pull out of his spot only to see you still waiting for the car outside of the bar. 

Blink-182 blares through his speakers, hitting him straight in the chest.

‘Let’s go, don’t wait, this night’s almost over. Honest, let’s make,this night last forever. Forever. And ever. Let’s make this last forever.’ 

What if he did stay a little later after class? What if he got the chance to move on to level three? 

Fuck it, he thinks. He turns off the ignition, shaking out the sounds of Jason Carver and the kids laughing, the sounds of their feet kicking in the water. Just Miss Tiffany and her whistle. He gets out of the car, determined. You’re still there, head whipping around to see him coming towards you while you bounce on the balls of your feet in the cold. 

Arms up. Knees bent. “Ed? My car’s gonna be here in a sec–” Whistle. His hands reach out to your cold cheeks to pull you in before his full lips capture yours. His eyes flutter close at the contact, feeling your mouth react to his in time. Soft and needy, hydrated. You immediately know how to keep his pace while he separates and goes back in for more. Wet but not messy, passionate but not feverish. The smoothest dive he’d ever done in his life. Your hands escape your pockets, fingers sliding behind his neck to pull him closer, sliding through the nape of his hair. He breaks away for a moment to delicately push your hair out of your face and really look at you before pressing his lips to yours again. You only stop when your Uber beeps from across the street. 

“I wanted to do that all night,” he mumbles sheepishly. 

“I wanted you to do that all night, too,” you giggle, breathless and blushing, “Thank you.” 

“Thank you,” he says, running a hand over his face, “Let me know when you get home, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod, hurrying across the street as the car honks again,  “Bye!” 

“I’ll put something together for next time!” he calls out. ‘Cause there will be a next time. 

Tatianna is leaning over the back of the couch with her chin in her hands when Eddie opens the door. Her cheshire cat grin matches his own. 

“So I didn’t hear from you all night,” she starts, her voice syrupy smooth, “So that means it must’ve went really well.” 

Eddie sighs dreamily, kicking off his boots at the entryway and hanging his jacket on one of the hooks by the door. 

“Ooh, you like herrrr! I can tell! Look at your stupid face!” she laughs, pointing at him, bouncing on the cushions. 

“Tati she’s…fuck,” he shakes his head in disbelief while he walks towards her, “There’s either two ways this could go.” 

“Yeah?” she asks, looking up at him, “And those are?” 

“I’m gonna marry her, or she’s gonna absolutely fuckin’ ruin my life.” 

“I like her already,” Tati grins, “Sit down, tell me everything.” 

“Yeah, yeah, give me a sec,” he grumbles, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He plops down onto the couch while Tati grabs two cups of tea from the kitchen that she made especially for the recap of his night. Gareth had been long asleep for an early morning at work tomorrow. 

Eddie takes out his phone, two unread text alerts lingering on his home page. He opens them, smiling stupidly into the screen.

i’m home :) you’re a really good kisser by the way. 

glad you made it home safe. you are too. :) but you started off pretty kissable so, that’s probably why. you’re making me blush over here, stop it. 

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle through his nose, clicking out of your text conversation to go back to his home screen. 

He deletes the apps.

[undying-love]

Paul's dreams: A Compilation

“It’s still weird even to say, ‘before he [John] died’. I still can’t come to terms with that. I still don’t believe it. It’s like, you know, those dreams you have, where he’s alive; then you wake up and… 'Oh’.” (1986)

"You don’t call up dreams, they happen, often the exact opposite of what you want. You can be heterosexual and be having a homosexual dream and wake up, and think, “Shit, am I gay?” I like that you don’t have control over it. But there is some control – it is you dreaming, it is your mind it’s all happening in. (2000)

TVG: Do you have vivid, inspiring dreams of people you love? Paul: I do, really, yeah. There was actually one a couple of years ago where John… There was a song that I was listening to John do in the dream, and when I woke up, I thought, “I don’t know that song.” It was like it was a new song, and I was going to write it with John. I did vaguely remember it and tried to put down a little demo of it, but it didn’t really click. But I still have a little demo. And it was quite cute. I do dream about John quite often. It’s always very nice. (2001)

"I remember when John and I were first hanging out together, I had a dream about digging in the garden with my hands.[...] In this dream I found a gold coin. I kept digging and I found another. And another.The next day I told John about this amazing dream I’d had and he said, ‘That’s funny, I had the same dream’. So both of us had this dream of finding this treasure. And I suppose you could say it came true." (2012)

“The thing is when you’ve had a relationship like that for so long, it was such a deep relationship. I love it when people revisit you in your dreams… I have a lot of dreams about John. And they’re always good.” (2019)

 "[The last interesting dream I had] was of a sexual nature. Pretty cool, though. Very interesting, dreams of a sexual nature when you’re married. Because your married head is in the dream saying: “Don’t do this. Don’t go here.” And just to let you know, I didn’t. It was still a good dream." (2020)

"I’m often thinking of him [John]. I dream of him. It’s...family. (2021)

-----------------------------------------------------

Note: I'm excluding all the quotes related to his Let It Be/Yesterday dreams

[glitteredrry]

5 ways harry mentions you on stage

summary: Being Mrs.Styles has it’s perks, but nothing will ever beat when your husband takes time out of his show to shout you out in some way.

warning: all fluff and happiness. small mention of alcoholic beverages.

wc: 1k

1. pointing or blowing a kiss at you

One of the reasons you fell in love with Harry was because of the little things he has done for you since the beginning. When you both started dating of course the world didn’t know, you just seemed like a friend of someone on his team joining the show, that all changed when fans kept questioning who he was blowing a kiss to at each show. By compiling different tour dates videos, fans noticed that he would blow a kiss or point to the side of the stage during specific parts of songs. It wasn’t at each tour date, only when you could attend. Eventually, they matched the air kiss to the face, and the internet went wild because of you. Immediately you were known as Harry Styles' mystery woman. Fast forward five years later, and both of you were still melting the internets’ hearts, only now you were his wife. Love on tour was a whole new ballpark compared to his first tour. He was breaking records left and right, and entertaining anywhere from 17,000 to 80,000 people a night; no matter how big the arena or stadium was he made sure that you knew he was thinking of you. It didn’t matter what kind of day the both of you had,  he would never stop showing you that small piece of affection.

2. mimicking your dance moves

Now you know that you’re not the best dancer in the world, but you’re not the popstar of you two. You sure act like it though. Your dance moves are not planned or practical, when you attend the shows you go to support your husband and enjoy yourself. When you’re in the family section sometimes you just really get into the music and start dancing with not a care in the world. Oh, but when Harry notices you, he begins to mock your dance moves until you or the fans pick up what he is doing. He’s not doing it with any malicious intent, or to make you uncomfortable. He genuinely loves to see you dance, he also loves your dance moves because it's so unique. He doesn’t know how to explain it, he loved getting to dance with you in a room full of people. The cameras from fans all bounce between you two and your interaction. In Harry fashion, once you notice you get embarrassed shooing him away, and with a giggle, he is running off to the other side of the stage.

3. “what are we drinking tonight?”

On occasion, before he starts to read the many signs across the rooms held up by his lovely fans, he asks you a question first. What are we drinking tonight? Harry knew that you weren't much of a drinker, and the only time you drank was when he performed. You would sometimes have an alcoholic drink, other times it would just be some water. He would joke and say ‘that’s right honey, treat your body with kindness.’ You knew that he wasn’t serious, but on the nights that you would happen to have something alcoholic, he would be shocked and scream it throughout the arena, ‘tequila! save some for me, love.’ He then reads fans’ signs leaving you with a smile. You loved him more than words could explain.

4. straight up calling you out

During a show, he loved to call you out by name. One of the ways that he did it was through a fan's sign. He would tell a small anecdote about your relationship and people would eat it up each time. For example, a poster would read ‘the love of my life broke up with me, what do I do?’ Harry would pause sympathizing with the fan because one time the love of his life broke up with him. “If they’re the love of your life then they will always find their way back to you. The love of my life broke up with me once. Now, she’s my wife.” The whole crowd would cheer because both of you made sure to be private about your relationship. Then sometimes it would be a silly sign like ‘came here for Y/N but you’re cool too.’ Harry would end up acting like a complete narcissist, “I believe the name of the tour is Harry Styles love on tour, not Y/N Styles. It’s my show, come for me and only me!” The crowd would burst out in laughter causing you to blow kisses to the audience. “Look you guys are making my wife conceited.” You would mouth sorry to him with a smile on your face, laughing at all the reactions across the room. “Alright, we are changing the name to Y/N Styles love on tour. Happy wife, happy life.”  

5. flowers

This gesture was something that was private between you two. Each time Harry would catch a bouquet of flowers he would quietly hold it up in the air, notifying you he caught some for you. He placed it somewhere safe on stage where it would remain intact. Each flower that ended up being on stage went to you. Flowers were dedicated to you. Fans of course didn’t know this, because he would give them to you after shows. How did this all start you may ask? When you started dating Harry you were at a more difficult time in your life. He happened to fall into your life when you were in your last year of college. You couldn’t make it to each show, but when you did Harry was appreciative of the sacrifice that you were making to be there. He cherished that you treated him as a priority and never made him feel guilty for taking that extra stretch for him. To show you his appreciation, on your one-year anniversary; He surprised you with a gift that at first you didn’t really understand, but he explained. It was a cluster of different pressed, preserved flowers. Once he explained that each flower represented all the shows you attended. You broke down in tears, and knew that you would be marrying him. Now that you were married, he would always and forever dedicate flowers to you.

a.n.

another little 12am blurb i thought of. i hoped you enjoyed. 💌

[anemos-orca]

Xiao loves how you...

contains: No NSFW, fluffy only :D, gender neutral!reader x Xiao (no pronouns used), reader loves biology, not proof-read at all qwq

summary: The things you do that Xiao find so endearing about you :3

A/N: idrk what this is :x i guess a compilation of cute xiao thoughts? idk qwq lots of biology stuff because thats my thing •w• if you cant tell, i love xiao so much -w-

♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎

Xiao would find it difficult to admit it out loud if you asked, but he couldnt get enough of you.

Xiao loved how passionate you were about your work and the things you loved, the way your enthusiasm guided your life and led you to be as sweet, caring, and compassionate as you were.

The way you got down to eye level with the dogs and cats in the harbor to say hello and pet them, even though doing such with every animal you passed made your trips take far longer than they realistically should.

The way your voice shrunk into a soft coo with the shy cats and grew into an ecsatic yip to rial up the dogs, talking to them like they could answer back.

The way you made an effort to memorize each of their names and the places they did and did not like to be pet, all to make them happy because, in your words, "They dont live all that long compared to us, so every bit of affection counts."

You were caring to all, so gentle and sweet, no matter who they were.

Xiao loved how expressive your face and body language were, and how each subtle movement betrayed your every emotion (even in times you didnt particularly want to be read like a book).

How you werent ever restless when you worked- he never failed to notice how you could sit for hours and study the behaviors of even the slowest, most boring koi in a pond without so much as a shifty-eyed glance of boredom. He could never sit and study things with you for the full amount of time because of how thurough you were.

He loved the way your nose scrunched up in disgust at the silliest things and how your eyes seemed to light up with excitement every time you saw something cool, even if it was just a pesky beetle that found its way onto the railing.

He loved the way you became so flustered every time he would so much as mention how adorable you looked when you were intruiged by something- especially when he caught you crouched down and wide-eyed as you watched a plant idly sway in the breeze, your attention so fixed on the sessile organism that you hadnt noticed Xiao kneeling down next to you. He tried to be sorry for startling you so badly that you fell onto your face, but it was hard to take you seriously when your cheeks were flushed such a bright red and you stammered over every word that fell from your lips.

Xiao couldnt get enough of how cute you were. If he truly wanted to, he could go on and on listing the adorable things you did, but he was the Conqueror of Demons, not the Conqueror of Having-A-Hard-Time-With-Expressing-Human-Emotions.

How you clutched that old, flattened koi plush close to your chest each night as you slept curled up in his arms. Even on the nights he couldnt join you as you fell asleep, he would come to your shared room at the Inn to check on you, comforted when he would find that you had fallen asleep wrapped around your plushie. He was always glad that you were fully asleep when he checked in on you because if you woke up from the hushed sound of his Wind-Cycle as he teleported into the room and saw him planting the most gentle of kisses to your lips, his one hand draped over your shoulder and the other cupping your cheek, he would be too embarrassed to even speak. You wouldnt tell him, but you secretly knew that he did this every night he couldnt be in bed with you.

He craved the way your face softened when you kissed him. He was addicted to it. The way you held his cheeks oh-so gently, your soft, warm hands keeping his mind steady as you leaned in and pressed such intimate little kisses all over his face. The way you paid special attention to his lips, knowing that he loved those kisses the most. After a long day of slaughtering countless demons, coming home to such soft and adorable mannerisms was all he wanted- and he got it every time.

He loved how adorable you looked when you cuddled him. He didnt get it at first, but after a few times, he found himself hungry for more and excitedly expecting it each night. He didnt know how you did it (and even thought it was some sort of demon-spell-trickery-hoopla at first), but now that he felt what it was to be held close, to be snuggled, to cuddle, he desired more and more each time. He loved the way you balled up in his arms on some nights and sloppily laid across his chest on others. He even loved how, when you were especially exhausted, you drooled on his shirt, leaving a wet, darkened mark that the other Adepti teased him about. He was once embarrassed about it, but after a moment of thought about how you were his only, your drool marks were his only, your sleepy face was his only, your love was his only, he wore your drool mark with pride every other night it happened from then on out. He was the only one who would ever have your drool, so that made it exclusive and special. No matter how much anyone envied the fact that he was the one who got to hold you in his arms while you fell asleep, they would never get to have you. You were his, and his only. Drool included.

Xiao loved you. All of you. And he would continue to do so forever, no matter what. Even if you scolded him (with the most endearing blush-covered cheeks, he'd like to add) for startling you and making you fall on your face. Even if you took an excessively long amount of time every trip to the harbor because you wanted to "catch up" with the animals. Even if you drooled on his shirt because of how tired you were. He was tough, callous, and sometimes even came across as cold or flat out rude to others, but knowing that you saw the real him, the Xiao no one else got to see, was enough to make him feel soft and fuzzy inside. And for that, he loved you very, very much.

♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎

[verfound]

FIC: "Of Kwamis, Soulmates, and Idiots"

(MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list?  We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

Sorry not sorry for the end...

Read on Ao3

Prompt 09: New Pet

“You should talk to him.”

Marinette felt her shoulders stiffen – felt her entire body tense – at the tiny voice.  Irrational as it was, because she knew no one else could hear it.  No one else was able to see or hear Tikki except for her – that’s just how kwamis worked.

…well.

Her, and her soulmate.

But she didn’t have a soulmate.  Or…she hadn’t found them.  Yet.  So it was impossible that anyone else currently aboard the Liberty would have heard Tikki’s horrible suggestion.

Talk to him.

Like she could ever do something as crazy as that.

“Shut up,” she hissed under her breath, her eyes still darting up to make sure the band – to make sure he wasn’t listening.  She hunched closer to her legs, bringing her face dangerously close to her sketchbook, and tapped her pencil against the page in irritation.  “You know I can’t.”

“But why?” the little bug asked, zipping out from behind her pigtails to stare unabashedly at the him in question.

…Luka.

Juleka’s older brother.

Lead guitar of Kitty Section.

Super cool, super nice, super hot, super out of her league…

Tikki was frowning as she looked back and forth from Luka to Marinette’s sketchbook.

“You like him, don’t you?” she asked, tilting her little head to the side.  Marinette flailed, sending her sketchbook flying, as she grabbed at the kwami.  Did she have to be so loud?!

“Tikki, shut up!” she cried, her face burning as she pulled her against her chest.  She looked up at the sudden silence on the deck, and she gave a nervous laugh as she waved off the concerned stares.  “S-sorry, guys!  You know how…annoying kwamis are!”

Tikki shouted something rude at her, she was sure, but her hand was covering the little brat’s mouth and it came out a muffled squeak.  Marinette groaned as she pulled her knees back up on the crate and pressed her forehead against them.  Tikki grew suddenly quiet, and Marinette looked up to find…oh.  Oh no.

Luka was standing right in front of her, her discarded sketchbook in hand.

“Your kwami’s a little shit, too, huh?” he chuckled, holding the book out for her.  She swallowed and glanced down at her clenched hands, but Luka wasn’t looking at Tikki.

…of course he wouldn’t be.

He couldn’t see her.

Because he wasn’t…

“More than usual lately,” she sighed, letting Tikki go as she took her book back.  She offered him a shaky smile as he took a seat on the crate beside her.  “Sorry.  She…likes to tease me.”

“Oh, mine lives for that,” he chuckled.  “I don’t think Sass considers a day complete until he’s made my life a living hell.”

She giggled as he grinned at her, and her feet slipped from the edge of the crate back to the deck as she leaned forward.  His smile softened, and that…oh, he had the best smile…

“I’m sure he’s not all that bad,” she said, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear.  She looked up at him with a shy smile and prayed her face wasn’t as red as it felt.  “…he’s your kwami, after all.”

“Well, by that logic…someone as sweet as you?  Tikki has to be a saint,” he said.  She wanted to roll her eyes, but Luka had just called her sweet, and she ended up mumbling out some nonsense that might have been a thank you or maybe a shut up you’re cute, but either way she ended up looking back at the deck as her face burned hotter.  After a moment, he nudged he shoulder with his own and nodded towards the sketchbook.  “Sooo…what were you working on?  It must be good – you looked pretty intense.”

Her stomach clenched, remember exactly what – or who – she had been doodling, and she prayed he hadn’t actually seen the very detailed sketch of himself when he had picked the book up.

…any of the very detailed studies she’d done of him over the last few weeks, actually.  Tikki, kill her now…

“N-no, it was…it was nothing,” she said quickly, shaking her head.  “Just…you know.  Doodles.”

“I’d love to see them sometime, if you don’t mind sharing,” he said, leaning a little closer.  “Juleka says you’re crazy talented.”

“She…she said that?” she asked, looking up in surprise.  She hugged her sketchbook to her chest, and his smile…there was something in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite place – something she maybe wasn’t quite ready to place yet – that made her stomach flip pleasantly.  That made her want to show him the sketchbook, or anything he asked for, if only he’d keep looking at her like that.  He nodded, and she looked away as she bit down on her smile.  “That…that was really sweet of her.”

“She can be, sometimes,” he said.  She glanced back up at him, and her breath caught when he winked at her.  “If you’re not related to her.”

A giggle was startled out of her, and he chuckled as he reached over to squeeze her shoulder.  He glanced at something behind her, that strange look passing over his face again, before he stood and waved.

“Th-thanks!” she called as he turned away.  He looked back, and she waved her sketchbook at him.  “For…bringing it back.  Thank you.”

“Anytime, Ma-Ma-Marinette,” he said with a wink.  She rolled her eyes at the nickname, but her face didn’t feel as hot as it had the first time he’d teased her with it.  It felt…familiar, now.  More comfortable.

A tiny giggle by her shoulder had her tensing all over again, and she looked down to find Tikki grinning at her.

“Well,” she said, her eyes sparkling, “at least you talked to him!”

. : .

Later, after the others had headed home for the night and Luka was left ‘cleaning up’ the deck (…which was more of an excuse to sit on the stage, staring up at the stars as he worked on that song that had been stuck in his head since blue, blue eyes and Ma-Ma-Marinettes), Sass decided he apparently hadn’t had enough that day.

…as if seeing that crazy drawing of him in her sketchbook hadn’t been enough.  He had almost dropped the book all over again when he’d picked it up and realized she’d been drawing him the entire time she’d been watching their rehearsal.  When he’d realized she’d been watching him maybe as much as he’d been trying not to watch her.

“You ssstill have not told her,” the little snake hissed softly, settling on the head of his guitar when his playing tapered out.  Luka’s grip tightened on the neck as his eyes narrowed at his kwami.  His long tail was dangling, swishing almost like a cat – and the smirk on his face was definitely too feline for something that was supposed to be a snake.

“Sass…” he said in warning, but Sass just flicked his tongue out at him.  He’d say he was scenting the air, but Luka knew better.  Sass lived to torment him.

“Why haven’t you told her?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.  Luka rolled his eyes and jostled his guitar, just enough to dislodge the little shit.

“You know why,” he sighed, sinking back against the speaker he was using as a backrest.  “She’s not ready yet, buddy.”

“How do you know if you don’t tell her?” Sass pressed.  “Shhhe deserves to know, Luka.  Wouldn’t you both be happier if she did?”

“…she’s not ready yet,” he insisted, shaking his head.  “Her song’s still too…I don’t think she knows what she really wants yet, Sass.  And when I tell her…I want her to want it.  I want her to want me.  Is that too much to ask?”

The kwami’s brow furrowed, as if he didn’t understand – or didn’t believe – him, and Luka sighed as he started picking the familiar notes out again.  Marinette’s song.  The one that had utterly bewitched him from the moment he had first heard it – that had only intensified when she’d waved goodbye that first night and he’d seen the large, violet eyes peeking out from behind her collar.

Sass heaved a longsuffering sigh as he settled on his human’s head.  He flicked his tail against him as he settled in, a clear sign of his annoyance.

“I ssstill sssay you shhhould tell her,” he huffed, and Luka smiled sadly.

“I know, buddy,” he said.  “I will.  Soon.”

. : .

Except it wasn’t just that the kwamis’ humans were soulmates.

The kwamis needed each other, too.

They were linked, in an ancient, mysterious way no one really understood.

They could never really exist peacefully, in harmony, until they were reunited.

…and soon just wasn’t proving to be soon enough.

After another week went by – and then another two – Sass and Tikki had had just about enough.

“She’s just so shy,” Tikki huffed from their hiding place in the basketball hoop.  “She’s so amazing, Sass, but she has no self-confidence!  She’ll never make the first move!”

“I fear Luka won’t, either, if shhhe never does,” Sass sighed.  “He feels shhhe is…not ready.”

He said it with a roll of his eyes, and Tikki pouted as she stared at the two hopeless soulmates dancing around each other below them.

“She’s more ready than he thinks,” she tutted.  “You don’t have to wake up to her kissing her stupid cat pillow and sighing his name.”

Sass snickered, and Tikki tried to pout at him, but it was too easy to return his grin when he looked at her like that.  He was more familiar with things like that than she knew, he was afraid.

“Perhapsss it’sss time we ssstopped leaving it up to them, then?” he suggested, tilting his head as he watched Luka bend to help Marinette pick something up – and then crash his head against hers when their hands brushed and she jerked back.  “Perhapsss they need a little…pushhh?”

“…what do you have in mind?” Tikki asked, turning to him.  He grinned and floated up, winking at her as he made his way below.

“I think it’sss about time I sssee thisss pillow for myssself,” he hummed.  It took barely a moment – the briefest of distractions, provided by Ivan calling for Luka to get back to the stage and neither of them watching too closely – and then Sass was phasing through Marinette’s bag, settling into a pocket he was sure would go unchecked until it was too late.

From her place on the hoop, Tikki just…stared.

She…hadn’t known they could do that?

They could do that???

She had thought they were bound to their humans, that they couldn’t travel too far from them, and yet…well.

If Luka was Marinette’s soulmate, perhaps he was a little bit Tikki’s human, too?

Tikki was still hiding up on the hoop a short while later when Marinette received a call asking her to come home, and she watched anxiously as her human waved goodbye to her friends and ran off the boat.

…as Luka watched her go, a look she would call nothing short of longing on his face.

She sank back against the board and wished for a freshly-baked cookie to chew on.  Oh, she had a bad feeling about this…

[t0ast-ghost]

Episode 17 (The Galileo Seven):

- I’ve heard good things about this one… (edit: understatement of the fuckin year)

- pretty green space thing

- oh so the shuttlecraft is called Galileo.. lemme guess there’s gonna be seven people on board

- NEW PARIS??? Someone made it again? Does it have the crypts? Does it have someone to hate the Eiffel Tower like Guy de Maupassant? Does it even have an Effiel tower?

- oh that’s fuckin neat. I love the shuttlecraft lifting out of the ship

- I love the carpet flooring on the shuttlecraft

- “Doctor McCoy a reading on the atmosphere, please” HE TOUCHES HIS SHOULDER OMG

- say what you will, that shuttlecraft door opening and closing is cool as fuck

- A Bones sitting normally in chairs compilation would be extremely short

- WhY ARE THEY BICKERING RiGHt NOw?!! STOP FLIRTING

- "we'll have to lighten our load by three hundred pounds" "approximately three men" t'would be a shame if something were to... happen...

- “if any minor damage was overlooked it was when they put his head together.” “Not his head, Mr. Boma. His heart… His heart” this is said with such longing and sadness like, what.

- THAT is a comically large spear

- one down… two to go..

- “Mr. Spock, something’s happening outside” Spock immediately goes to help, he cares in his own way

- being reminded how immaculate Spock and McCoy’s eyebrows are

- “Yes, I know, but fortunately I’m giving the orders” Spock is so real for this

- “and just where are you going?”(I’m worried what you’re going to go do without your phaser)“I have a certain scientific curiosity about what’s happened of Mr. Gaetano. Return to the ship please.” (I need to find out if Gaetano is alive. Please stay safe back at the ship)

- aww he’s taking the body back because he knows it’s important to the crew (he cares in his own way… again!)

- NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE CONFUSED YOU ARE BEING ATTACKED “a little less analysis and a little more action” McCoy is RIGHT

- “Mr. Spock, remind me to tell you that I’m sick and tired of your logic.” “That is a most illogical attitude.” They love each other. They love each other so much.

- no but seriously, McCoy thinks it’s stupid that Spock’s logic would dictate that he would have to leave Spock behind. Where Spock would rather they have a better chance at getting back and thinks leaving him was the most logical

- “Did I [say that]? I must have been mistaken.” “Well at least I’ll live long enough to hear that.” Not the time nor place gentlemen

- “it may be the last action you’ll ever take, Mr. Spock… but it was all human.” “Totally illogical.” “That’s what I mean.” In what could have been his last moments Bones decides to antagonize/reassure Spock

- WHAT IS BONES WHISPERING IN JIM’S EAR

- I- this scene, right here

- Kirk leans in while smiling and says, “Mr. Spock, you’re a stubborn man.” “Yes, sir”

New favourite episode.

Master list link

[famwhy]

Saviour Complex

Yandere! Tangerine X Reader

Act 1 | Act 2 | Act 3

Synopsis: One night, you're pushed straight into an incoming train, causing everything to go black. When your eyes open up once more, you find yourself in a completely different country and face-to-face with your favourite character whose demise was right around the corner. Too attached to the man, you find yourself hatching a plan to save him - unaware of the consequences.

Word Count: 7,556

Act 1 - Regrets, Regrets, Sinking in Regrets

The rough, bumpy texture of a fruit grazed the nerves of your skin briefly before it disappeared immediately - spinning through the air and landing back in your palm with yet another small burst of gravity.

"Stop throwing and catching that dumb orange of yours, you don't look cool."

The biting words of the person next to you could be perceived as venomous by any passerby who decided to eavesdrop in that split second; to anyone who didn't know her personally. You knew her though - you spent your whole life with her, how could you not know her? 

Your beloved sister.

"Tangerine, you mean." Your lips split open into a smirk as you corrected her.

Your words caused her brows to furrow in deep irritation on the surface, but, underneath it all, you could tell she wasn't actually mad with you.

"Same thing." She scoffed.

"It really isn't."

She gave you a look, one you were familiar with; a look which told you that she found what you just said utterly ridiculous.

"They literally look the exact same."

"But they aren't."

"Oh shut up." She huffed, one arm crossing over the other in a display of irritation. "You were never so picky about their difference until we watched that stupid movie."

You were torn between lighting up at the mention of your newly-crowned favourite movie, or showcasing your offense towards her critique of said movie.

In the end, you chose to do both.

"Okay, one, that movie isn't stupid-" she rolled her eyes as you spoke, "-and two, I can't go butchering the alias of my favourite character, now can I?"

"I don't get what you see in that guy." 

Being sure to exaggerate it as much as possible, you let out a loud gasp.

"How could you say such a thing?!" You proclaimed. "He is so cool and I love his accent."

"You literally have the same accent." She deadpanned.

"Yeah but I don't sound as good as he does." 

"You don't sound good in general."

You exhibited yet another over-exaggerated gasp.

"My own sister," the palm of your dominant hand pressed against your chest, fingers curling around the soft fabric beneath them, "treating me in such a way..."

"Oh, get over yourself." Another scoff left her lips, "I don't see how you're still such a carefree person despite what we used to do for a living."

For a moment, the grin on your face faltered and a flicker obscured your vision of reality. But that was all it was, a flicker - and it was only just for a moment. It was gone the next, you swore it was! No crimson substance stained against your mind or hands; no cold steel felt against the heat of your palm as your index finger wrapped tightly around that little lever; no screams that echoed through the confines of your head over and over and over-

-no, none of that. Not anymore, at least.

You were over that.

It was done and dusted.

It was thrown under the rug, ready to compile dust and slowly wither away through the teeth of the critters that lived alongside it.

It was never to be seen again.

At least, not by your hands.

"-ey! Hey!" 

Your eyelids met several times in rapid succession as you blinked away the sudden blur that kept you from seeing the concave of your sister's lips.

Ah, see? She did care for you.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was light, barely there, with a sense of gentleness she wouldn't be caught dead exhibiting towards anyone that wasn't you. "I didn't mean to, I was just... I didn't mean it."

"Nah," a small huff left your lips as they curved up into that familiar, carefree grin, "it's fine, I don't care anymore."

The way her expression didn't shift in the slightest was enough to tell you that she didn't believe you. However, even if she had her doubts towards your words, she chose not to speak more on the matter.

After a few beats of silence, a large red vehicle slowly approached from the horizon - emerging as though it was Harley Quinn pulling herself out of the toxic substance the Joker decided to drown her in.

There it was, your bus.

"Listen," your sister's voice was quieter than normal, tender and soft around the edges - still speaking as though what she brought up had bothered you, "I just want you to know that... I find it hard too. You're not alone in this. I was there with you too."

You paused for a moment, standing right outside the open doors that led inside the vehicle. 

Then, you took one step on, your hand reaching for the pole inside. Not too long after, you tilted your head towards your sister - towards Lena - and smiled, "I know."

With that, you thrusted the rest of your body onto the vehicle and sent her a wave as it started up - the screeching sound of its wheels being drowned out by the sound of the engine starting back up.

And then, you were off.

.

.

.

The glow of the night sky shined through the see-through walls of the office, lighting up several seats as it bounced off the monitors resting on each desk.

It was quiet, the only sound being the clicks of your heels against the solid ground, approaching the switches on the wall to turn off the one light that remained on. The one hovering over your desk.

With a flick of your finger, the only yellow glow in the room faded away to allow for the moon's blue rays to completely take over.

You didn't mind night shifts, they were comforting - some might even argue - relaxing. 

They had this feel to them.

One where you could remain unbothered, trapped within the confines of your mind forever to wonder what exactly life had in store for you next.

There was once a time where you hated being left to your thoughts; nay, you loathed it. 

Being left with your thoughts meant being left with your memories; being left with your memories meant being left with the haunting actions of your past; being left with said past actions meant being left with that same voice that berated your existence.

It was frightening.

It was terrifying.

So you ran from it.

You ran until it affected you no longer, you ran until your legs started to ache from the pain; until your lungs shrivelled up from the lack of air that it was so gluttonous for. 

You ran until you had left it all behind.

But even then, it still came back to haunt you.

Even then, you couldn't help but catch little glimpses of hair that would disappear past the sharpest corners - hair that seemed to belong to one of them.

But that was impossible.

After all, you-

Your head shook from side-to-side, eyes finally returning to reality and finding yourself right by the lights of your office, finger still hovering over the switch.

You sighed.

It was time to go home.

Your hand instinctively rose up, gripping the disk that surrounded the hat on your head and pulling it down slightly to ensure it stayed there. 

Then, your fingers curled tighter around the handle of the gray briefcase and you set off, footsteps swift as they echoed down the empty corridor.

With a 'ding!', the doors to the rectangular space parted to allow you to fill the vacant spot inside.

You stepped in, curling your other hand around the handle of the briefcase as you held it in front of you and leaned against the cold, metal railing. 

The glass at the back of the elevator provided for a good scenery that overlooked the night sky twinkling over the busy streets of the city; still ever-so-alive despite the time.

One particular puff of air that left your mouth fogged up the glass in front of you, the sight filling you with a familiar childish sense of delight and, before you even knew it, one of your fingers rose up to draw two lines and an upturned curve underneath before it returned to the briefcase once more.

A small smile drew out your lips as your eyes fell half-lidded.

The moment was then interrupted by the 'ding!' of the elevator once more.

You turned around, stepping outside before tipping your sunhat at the male stood with a phased-out look in his eyes, adorning a black hat of his own with the word 'Security' printed onto it.

Luckily, he wasn't phased-out enough to not notice your greeting, to which he returned with a small, nervous smile of his own.

One of the cuter security guards of your building.

A particular strong breeze had your hand clutching tighter onto your hat and your eyes squinting, trying to avoid any dust from getting inside.

The street lamps illuminated the road as many individuals rushed by, ranging from stressed business men to childish couples wishing to play a game of tag with one another.

You didn't stay too long to observe though; no, you couldn't. Didn't have the time. Your sister was probably awaiting your arrival with anxious, clattering teeth - wondering what was taking you so long while not daring to admit that she was worried for you.

Your eyes travelled over to the stairs in the middle of the street, leading downwards into the network of tunnels connected underground to allow for easy access to many different places in the country. 

Soon, your heels were clicking against those stairs, traversing down them to get to the tracks you would need to wait by to be able to set course home.

You stood at a queue, waiting to scan your card. It wasn't a long wait. It never was. At least, not at this time of night. Many people preferred snuggling under a blanket at home and watching a movie with a few snacks rather than having to work a late night shift where who-knows-what could go wrong.

Once you scanned in, you swiftly made your way to your platform, not needing to take the smallest glance at the signs to be able to know where to go. By now, it was all muscle memory anyway.

As you approached the rails, your heels made contact with a prominent bump on the ground - causing you to stumble the slightest amount before you were able to regain your footing just like that.

Now, it was just the waiting game.

You were a professional at waiting. Patience was practically your middle name; it had to be if you wanted to get your previous job done quickly-

-or... the job you had currently. Right, this normal, little office job. You had to be patient when waiting for the printer to be done with your papers, or awaiting an email from a co-worker of yours. Patience was key.

Patience was also risky.

In the time that you were patient, so many things could happen. You could wind up with your hands tied up in a basement because you decided to be patient and wait for your friend; or you could wind up with a gun to your-

"Enjoy hell, you murderer!"

Now, your reflexes were normally stupendous. Out of this world, really. When someone wished to deliver a rapid left jab to your face, you would twirl your body to the side to avoid it. Or when they went in for an uppercut aimed to take out your jaw, you would take one step back too quickly for them to react.

You wished you could claim your reflexes were good in this instance too- but it had all happened so fast.

The flashing lights of the incoming train; the harsh shove against your back that sent you tumbling over the platform; and the searing, white, hot pain that exploded against your side like a highly reactive chemical would with water.

So quick. So sudden.

So painful...

For a split second, everything went black.

Then, your eyes opened back up again.

The first thing you noticed was that you were stood upright, exactly as you were before being pushed - waiting in almost the exact same position. The railways right in front of your vision would have been enough to trick you into thinking that was all a daydream; some cruel concoction your mind conjured up to punish you for your sins.

You would've believed that whole heartedly had it not been for the fact that you were no longer underground.

The light of the moon was barely prevalent with the harsh illumination that was emitted from the lamps of the train station. There were a lot more people at this platform than the one you were previously at, the chatter was also louder than before; lively and sporadic, as though nothing just happened. As though you didn't just die.

You blinked slowly, brain struggling to process what, exactly, had just happened.

You died... didn't you?

No way you went through that pain and didn't die.

Someone pushed you into the tracks as a train was incoming.

How could you have possibly survived that?

Your head glanced from side-to-side as you noticed the people around you - specifically, their features. It differed from the Western features you were used to seeing in your day-to-day life. Instead, they looked to be East Asian, Japanese if your geography skills were doing you justice.

Another thing you noticed were the signs.

They weren't in English, instead filled with the symbols your mind automatically associated with the Japanese language.

You were in Japan somehow.

Was this some sort of final dream?

No way you imagined all that pain- that abrupt slam against your side that caused you to wince just thinking about it. 

Before you could further indulge yourself in the expanding, vast sea of your thoughts - a sudden pick-up in the breeze sent your hat flying straight off your head and towards your left.

A small gasp left your lips as your hand reached out, fingers stretching and just barely grazing the ridge before it picked-up speed once more and narrowly escaped your grasp.

It was then that you decided to rush after it, careful to steady yourself lest you stumble over your heels.

Luckily, you didn't have to move much for, soon, the ridge of the hat was caught by a set of fingers that grasped onto it before holding it out towards you.

Your own hand reached out, grasping the other end of your sunhat as you lightly pulled it down - ready to meet the eyes of the one who saved your beloved hat and thank them.

"'ere you go, love."

Your mouth fell open, agape in pure astonishment and disbelief.

The way this person didn't pronounce his 'h'; the way he gave you that specific nickname; those familiar incredibly handsome facial features that belonged to ATJ himself.

This person was-

"Tangerine..." You whispered lightly under your breath, voice practically inaudible as it was drowned out by your pure amazement.

"Sorry?" Your favourite character rose one of his eyebrows, cockney accent as prevalent as ever.

Was this guy really Tangerine? There was no way, right?

"Oh, uhm, I said thank you." 

He nodded briskly, about to turn and board the train when a voice called out to him.

"Oi! You coming?"

Another cockney accent paired with the broader figure and unique, silver-dyed hair that belonged to the brother of your favourite character.

That was Lemon, there was no doubt about it.

And if that was Lemon, this was definitely Tangerine.

You watched as Tangerine's facial features shifted, brows furrowing and lips tugging down as he turned towards his brother's direction. "Yeah, I'm coming! Hold your fuckin' horses, mate!"

He then immediately turned back towards you, eyes slightly wider than before. "Beg your pardon, love. Sorry, I forgot there was a lady present for a moment."

His chivalry was cute, and his looks just made him all the more attractive in your eyes.

Before you could even realise it, your lips curved upwards into a huge smile and a small, amused giggle left them as your eyes shone with mirth.

Once again, you seemed to have caught him off guard, causing his eyes to widen a little more as he paused for a moment. But that was all it was, just a moment. The next, he was shaking his head and heading off towards his brother without another word.

Holy shit, you just met the Tangerine!

The same Tangerine that you gushed to your sister about, complimenting his strength and looks and amazing accent.

But if you just met Tangerine... and you just saw Lemon with him... did that mean..?

"Holy shit! I'm in Bullet Train!"

One of your hands rose up to your mouth, pure excitement coursing through your veins as you refrained from letting out a high-pitched squeal.

Although, it wasn't long before that excitement of yours shifted into pure, unadulterated horror. 

"Holy shit. I'm in Bullet Train."

Somehow, some way, you had died and got transported into the world of a movie. 

And of all the movies you could have been transported to, it just had to be Bullet Train - the movie that ends in this very train flying off the rails and crashing straight into the ground underneath. 

How the fuck were you supposed to survive a train crash from a vehicle going two hundred miles per hour?! You weren't Ladybug, you didn't have insane levels of luck!

Okay, okay, everything should be fine so long as you didn't board the train, right?

Dear lord, was this all really happening right now? Were you seriously in your favourite movie?

The setting and two of the characters matched exactly so you must be in the movie.

But then, what the hell happened to you? Who pushed you into that train? If you died, what would happen to Lena? 

If you seemed to recall correctly, that person referred to you as a 'murderer'. They must've known, right? And if they knew... then that meant they would go after Lena too. 

She would be fine though. You were caught off guard, a moment of weakness - Lena never had one of those. She was always on guard; had been since you both first agreed to stop. She could handle herself.

Yeah, she'd be fine.

Right now, you had more pressing matters to attend to.

Perhaps if you never boarded the train, you could go about your life as normal? Maybe start a new life here, completely fresh? You knew enough Japanese to get by.

Maybe you could start a nice, little bakery and get cute regulars that always asked for the same order. You could hire sweet people to work as waiters or waitresses and create treats for those around you to enjoy. Maybe you could even find the man of your dreams and start a family?

Oh, who were you kidding?

How on Earth could you find another man when you were literally in the same world as Tangerine? 

No other man could scale up to the handsome assassin with anger issues.

That's right, he was an assassin. Both him and his brother.

If you recalled correctly, their current mission was to keep the White Death's son safe and retrieve his briefcase of money.

The White Death was a very dangerous individual. The head of a very dangerous criminal organisation. 

He was powerful. Too powerful.

Did you really want to get yourself wrapped up in that?

A light bump against your side snapped you right out of your thoughts, causing you to look straight at the cause of the interruption. 

"Sorry, that was my bad."

Your eyes widened by a fraction, gaze landing on the face of Brad Pitt himself. 

The main character had just bumped into you. Ladybug, himself, had just bumped into you.

Ladybug was yet another assassin who had almost no affiliation with Lemon and Tangerine except for one time where he was shot twice by Lemon on one of his missions. Ladybug used to be brash and temperamental but you believed that, during the events of this movie, he was trying to turn over a new leaf and get his job done as peacefully as possible.

Unfortunately for him, he was both extremely unlucky and extremely lucky. 

And he would also later find out that this mission of his wouldn't turn out as peacefully as he hoped.

"Miss, you good?"

You blinked twice, suddenly capable of seeing the furrowed brows of the laid-back male in front of you. He was probably concerned considering the fact that you phased out right as he bumped into you and apologised.

"Uh, yeah." You smiled, nodding your head very slightly. "Thank you for your concern."

He reciprocated your smile with one of his own, eyes twinkling a little in what you deduced was delight. "It was no problem. Y'know I admire your capability of putting that little interaction behind you and moving on. You go, lady."

Lena always found his little bursts of, what you liked to call, 'spiritual awareness' extremely irritating - although, you begged to differ. You found it cute how hard he tried to turn over a new leaf and gain a new attitude towards life. It was nice to see him try.

"Thank you." You bowed your head again, lips still stretched into that smile.

He then excused himself, putting the phone in his hand back up to his ear and walking over to the lockers behind you.

Well, now was probably your queue to leave.

So long as you never entered the Bullet Train, you should be completely fine, right?

With that thought in mind, you turned around, taking one step towards the exit of the station...

...and then a face flashed through your mind.

The handsome features belonging to your favourite character, drowning and choking in his own crimson substance, desperately trying to warn the main character; to let him know of the danger he was with; the danger he was right next to. 

That's right... Tangerine died in the movie, didn't he?

Could you really sit back and relax, in the same universe as your favourite character, and not do anything to save him? 

You paused mid-step as your chest heaved outwards, a large sigh escaping your mouth before, ultimately, you twirled around; gaze set straight onto the bullet train in front of you.

Curse your favouritism for ATJ.

Alright, well, if you were doing this, you might as well do it with some sort of preparation. Entering a train with several highly-trained assassins and surviving it was no easy feat, after all.

If you recalled correctly, which you almost a hundred percent did due to how many times you had watched the movie, Ladybug retrieved all the aids for his mission from that locker he just went to. In that locker should be a gun which he never bothered picking up.

If you could get your hands on that, you would be able to hold your own pretty well.

It should be fine, you were over your past anyway. It was no longer a bother so you would definitely be able to pick it up again.

Besides, you weren't gonna use it lethally. You swore off of that ages ago.

Now, your only problem was how to keep Ladybug from closing the locker after he was done taking out what he needed from it.

How did one stop another from closing a locker?

It's practically done from muscle memory; an action not given much thought but done as habitually as breathing was - something which was not easy to keep someone from doing without physically harming them.

And you would prefer not to harm Ladybug for the contents inside his locker.

Maybe if you...

No, that wouldn't work.

What if you-?

Nah, that definitely wouldn't do it.

Perhaps you could-

Before you could even think about the third thing, a familiar grey hat passed you - the same hat Ladybug wore throughout the start of the movie.

Did he just pass you?

In panic, your head frantically did a full one-eighty, eyes landing on the blue rectangular spaces lined up in a shelf behind you, one of which was very slightly open - Ladybug's to be specific.

Well, that was convenient.

With a confident strut, you made your way straight towards the locker - eyes trained on the prize. You stopped just a centimetre away from the shelf before your dominant hand rose up and pulled it open, gaze landing straight on the dark object to the side; completely untouched and fully-loaded.

Your lips turned upwards in a sense of accomplishment, despite the fact that you hadn't done much to acquire this object in the first place. Still, you reached for the pistol with that sense of pride - although, it slowly started to ebb away the closer your fingers got to the handle, nerves causing them to start to shake as they drew nearer and nearer; almost like you were about to touch something you suspected was poisonous. But it wasn't poisonous, it was just a gun. You could pick it up. 

Yeah, you could pick it up.

Your fingers lightly grazed the familiar cold metal, flinching back after only two seconds of contact, eyes squinting shut as though it was going to explode merely from your touch; as though it would kill you to hold it.

But it wouldn't.

It couldn't.

It couldn't harm you without anyone touching it.

You were fine.

With a small breath of air leaving your lips, you curled your fingers back around the weapon, picking it up and immediately hiding it behind your hat. You waited a few moments; as if to really ensure you would be okay; as if to instil in your mind that it wouldn't hurt you, wouldn't hurt anyone else using your hands.

Then you turned around - eyes widening way more than usual as you witnessed the train start to move and the doors start to close. Quickly, you rushed towards it stumbling a little on your heels before your foot almost got caught on a wedge in the ground. It was at that point, you decided 'fuck it' and lunged towards the door, just barely falling inside the capsule between carriages as you rushed to pull your knees up, narrowly avoiding the doors almost cutting them off.

You let out a sigh of relief before getting up and dusting yourself off, using both your hands to place your hat firmly back onto your head, pushing down on the ridge to do so. 

When your hands lowered once more, however, you caught sight of that wretched thing in them once again.

Your breath hitched in your throat; refusing to leave it as the drum of your heartbeat echoed through your ears, growing louder and louder and louder. You could feel it in your ears, as though it traversed your veins from your chest all the way up to the caverns you used to be able to hear, blocking out every other sound so that it was the only thing you could listen to because of how selfish it was for your attention. 

As if that wasn't enough, you could even feel it slamming against your chest over and over and over-

-and then it all just stopped.

Just like that, gone.

Your shrunk pupils enlarged once again, eyes landing on the now-empty gun in your hand - the cartridge loaded with bullets having fallen to the ground underneath you. 

Without even thinking, you threw the cartridge straight out the open window.

After heaving a few breaths, you realised what you had just done.

"Ah, shit."

What use was an unloaded gun to you now?

"Woah, what are you doing, lady?"

A sudden voice broke you away from your thoughts and caused your eyes to trail up, meeting a certain pair of mesmerising blue ones that belonged to the main character of the movie. You then slowly trailed your eyes back towards the empty gun in your hand before meeting the blonde's eyes once more and slowly, ever so slowly, raising both of your hands up.

"This isn't what it looks like."

He rose an eyebrow, eyeing the gun in your hand and then looking at your face once more.

"Awh, man, lady - I really thought you were better than this. A gun? Seriously?"

"No, no!" You quickly denied, shaking your head from side-to-side. "Seriously, I- I wasn't going to use it maliciously, I swear!"

"Look, we can talk this through, yeah?" He rose one of his arms to the back of his head, scratching it rather awkwardly.

"Yeah, yeah! Of course!" You agreed. "I'd love that!"

"Okay, so how about we put the gun down first, yeah?"

You took off your hat, placing the gun inside before fitting it right back around your scalp and saying, "there. Out of sight, out of mind."

He gave you that same skeptical look you had seen in the movie and, now, had seen twice in real life. Then he decided to leave it be.

"Do you mind if we have this chat after this call I have to take? Sorry, I don't wanna be rude or anything but I did kinda leave someone on hold."

Ah yes, he was speaking to his Handler, wasn't he? The woman who gave him the job as opposed to his sick co-worker Carver, who was actually played by your favourite actor, Ryan Reynolds. 

"Oh, yeah, go right ahead. I don't wish to interrupt." You added a little, nervous giggle to the end of that sentence; if only to further push the harmless citizen act you put on.

Act? Sorry, no - it wasn't an act. It was the truth. You were a harmless citizen. All you wanted to do was save your favourite character's life; nothing more, nothing less. 

"Could you, uhh, follow after me? Just, keep a little behind though. Y'know 'cause... it would be kinda rude if you listened in on my conversation." He looked to the side awkwardly.

"Yeah, yeah, I could do that."

It wasn't like you didn't already know his exact conversation like the back of your hand anyway. But he didn't know that and neither did he need to know that. 

You then watched as he entered the next carriage, being stopped by the staff member who asked for tickets as he proceeded to give the receipt for his ticket but not the actual ticket itself - just one of the many instances where his bad luck kicked in.

Soon enough, it was your turn to follow after, walking down the carriage a little nervously as you were stopped by the exact same guy. 

"Ticket please."

"Ah, right." You let out a little, nervous giggle similar to the one you did earlier. "Lemme just..."

You pretended to look for the tickets on your person, fully knowing that you didn't have any considering the fact that you were... well- not really part of this world until you opened your eyes straight after dying.

Your nervous smile grew even further as his gaze grew more stern. 

"One stop."

"I know." You sighed, giving up on the act.

You then moved past the man, not wanting to stay any longer under his scrutinising gaze. It wasn't your fault you didn't have a ticket! This world didn't even exist!

Or- well, it shouldn't exist. But somehow, it did.

The door to the capsule in between carriages slowly opened as you approached, allowing you to step through and see Ladybug scouring through the shelves, looking for the briefcase he was assigned to retrieve.

"Oh, uh," as soon as he noticed you, he stopped his search; hand pausing where it was as his head faced you. "So, lady, wanna explain to me what was going on back there?"

"Oh, well... I was just making sure it wouldn't get into anyone else's hands, y'know?" You looked off to the side, wondering how you were going to get away with sneaking a gun on a train right in front of the main character, loaded or not.

"Uh huh..." he sounded skeptical - rightfully so, you would be too if this happened to you. "Why don't you let me hold onto it for ya?"

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly ask that of you."

He gave you another skeptical look and you found yourself recalling The Prince's line in the movie, what was it again..? Ah, yes, 'the innocent girl act doesn't get you far when you have a gun in your hands' or something along those lines.

"Look, lemme just-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you started to spin on your heel and swiftly turned around, making you way back to the carriage you just passed - the carriage housing both Lemon and Tangerine if you recalled correctly.

"Wait! Lady!"

You chose to ignore his calls, continuing to walk until you reached the movement-sensitive doors that opened up for you once more.

Before you completely left, though, you gave one more glance over your shoulder, so sure that he would follow straight after you. You were proved wrong, however, after seeing him pause and reach one hand up to his earpiece, eyes immediately averting from your form over to the shelf once again.

The Handler must've-

Just then, your chain of thoughts was abruptly halted by a collision against your front side. The surface you collided with was rather hard, if you did say so yourself - so hard, in fact, that it caused you to lose balance on your heels - body beginning to stumble before a strong pair of arms caught your form.

"Fuckin' 'ell. Do you mind-?" An irritated voice paused mid-sentence. "Woah, you alright there, love?"

The familiar cockney accent had your heart beating right out of your chest and your head tilting up to peer through the ring of your sunhat and meet eyes with your favourite character himself.

Holy shit, Tangerine just caught you.

The Tangerine.

You could die (again) happy.

Dear lord. This was like all those scenes in those romance movies you would watch with Lena; the ones where the female lead would get caught in the male lead's arms and they would get lost in the endless pools of one another's eyes, drowning in the moment as time seemed to stop around them. 

Just the thought that you were having that moment with Tangerine, your favourite character ever, was enough to fluster you beyond belief as a small, bashful smile stretched over your lips.

"'ang on..." he rose a brow, staring into your eyes with such intensity, you almost fainted then and there. "You're the girl whose 'at I caught."

"Yep, that's me." You let out a small, nervous giggle. "Sorry about bumping into you, I wasn't quite looking ahead of me."

At your words, his eyes trailed behind your form, furrowed with that irritated expression that seemed to never leave his face. "What? Is some fuckin' creep following you or something? You look worried."

"Oh no, not at all!" You quickly drew his attention away from Ladybug, not wanting to interfere too much with the movie's plot. "I'm just really clumsy. It's really hard to walk around in heels, haha."

"That so?" He rose a brow at your words but chose to press no further.

Instead, he slowly helped you back up onto your feet and you were so sure he would've left the interaction at that but you didn't want it to end so quickly. Call you selfish but, was it really too much to ask for your favourite character to stick around a little more with you.

So, in hopes of keeping him around for just a little longer, you winced and he immediately took notice.

In all his gentlemanly glory, he clutched your arms tighter and helped lead you over to the set of seats that were completely empty, aiding you in sitting down by helping to gradually lower your body.

Meanwhile, Lemon and the White Death's son both stared at you incredulously.

"Just... sit 'ere, yeah? 'Think those things may have twisted your ankle or something."

He was referring to your heels.

"Thank you, mister..?"

"Tangerine." He introduced himself before jabbing his thumb out towards his brother. "'E's Lemon."

You nodded, parting your lips before hesitating for a second. Should you give your real name? Everyone in the movie went by aliases, not a single real name was disclosed - other than Kimura, of course. 

Then again, the reason they went with aliases in the first place was so that they couldn't have their personal information disclosed in the crime world. You literally had no personal information to your name.

Ah, fuck it.

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you Tangerine, Lemon." 

The Brit then turned towards the Russian seated at the other window.

"See? She knows not to question it."

After that, he gave you a brisk nod and resumed taking his seat on the opposite end of his brother and the mob boss' son once more.

"Right, your daddy hired us to get you out of the trouble what you got yourself into, didn't you, naugh'y boy?" Tangerine smirked as he taunted the boy.

His words damn near drew out a chuckle from your lips had you not restrained yourself enough. One slip of the tongue and you could be regarded as a threat by the 'twins' (a debatable title), and you did not want to be seen as a threat to the people who ended up sawing the limbs off a dozen of the White Death's men in Bolivia.

So, to fully ensure that no suspicion was instilled your way, you turned your head to the side, facing the window that sped by the land of Japan at high speeds, providing a vivid yet beautiful view of the country. 

But that didn't matter to you, all you cared about was the reflection of the three men in the glass - looking exactly like they did in the movie. This way, if their comments brought about a smile on your lips - they wouldn't be able to tell you were eavesdropping.

It was such a shame that you missed out on Lemon's tangent about Thomas the Tank Engine though.

"Why, uh, why Tangerine though?" The Son asked, bringing you straight out of your thoughts.

"Oh it's a sophisticated name." Lemon answered.

"Oh, fuckin' 'ell. It's not impor'ant, is it?" Your favourite cut in, looking as annoyed as ever. "What is impor'ant are the seven'een dead bodies we left getting you back from the triad that kidnapped you with plans to ransome you to your extremely psychotic, fucked-up father."

"Actually, it's sixteen." His brother corrected him. Although, he himself wasn't correct since he wasn't counting that one innocent person they killed.

"What's that now?"

"Sixteen kills, mate."

"Oh no, it was seventeen."

"Iiiit's sixteen." Lemon drawled out.

"Lemon, you're starting to get on my fucking tits." Tangerine scowled and you almost let out a giggle as you watched them bicker back and forth.

"It's sixteen."

"I'll smash my fuckin' 'ead through a brick wall."

"Well maybe that'd help your memory 'cause it was sixteen."

"The fuck is wrong with you, man?! It was seventeen goddammit," Tangerine slammed his hand against the table before continuing, "I wanna fuckin' strangle you-"

"Do you mind if we do this right now?" Lemon turned to the Russian male sat beside him.

"Don't worry about him-"

If you remembered correctly, now would be the time where they showed a montage of what happened with Lemon and Tangerine before they entered the train with the White Death's Son.

The montage was funny to watch but Lena begged to differ, scowling at each and every thing they did on screen; loathing the corpses they left behind and the way they carelessly killed other people as if she didn't-

-ah, what were the characters saying again?

"Our job is to keep you safe and to recover the briefcase with the ransome money inside." You heard the character with the face of ATJ say as he looked off to the side, eyes seeming to search for something and growing more frantic the longer he couldn't find it. "And I plan on completing my job and keeping-

"Lemon." He interrupted himself as he called to his brother, pupils stopping their wandering around to land on the other man.

"Hmm?"

"Where's the briefcase?"

"Oh I stashed it."

A pause.

And then, Tangerine placed both of his hands on the table, fingers intertwined with one another. "The case, Lemon. Go get me the fucking case."

The broader male got up to do just that, leaving the two other males on the table alone. You could practically feel the stress seeping from the male with a cockney accent.

"You're a liability, you know?" The Son spoke up again. "To my father."

"Hm?" The Brit left at the table perked his head up.

The Son leaned in, facial expression hard to decipher through the glass - but it wasn't like you needed to, after all, you watched the movie a dozen times before. "He doesn't need a reason to kill people like you, he needs a reason not to. Does he have one?"

The assassin paused for a minute, giving the other male a weird look before opening his mouth as if to respond. Before he could though, his phone went off and he reached for it - though, not without uttering one last sentence. "That's fucking confusin'."

He then picked up the phone and gave his greeting before the male on the other side asked him for The Son, if you recalled correctly.

"What? You mean this dickhead with the silly face tattoos? Yeah, he's sat right here."

Ah, so you were right. Of course you were.

"Yes, of course..." the male continued after a pause, leaning backwards and peering to the side to see Lemon's form stressing over the fact that, unbeknownst to him, Ladybug had stolen the briefcase. Once Tangerine saw, however, the confidence in his tone fell and his voice wavered as he continued, "...I've got the case..."

He kept the phone up to his ear for only a few seconds after as his eyes furrowed and a flicker of realisation crossed over them before the phone in his hand slowly lowered to his side.

After ending the call with one of the White Death's men, he strutted over to the capsule his brother entered - the way he walked almost made a squeal pass out of your mouth - the straight line across his lips, the furrow of his brows, the way he fixed his collar; it was all so smooth, you couldn't help but want to swoon. 

Once he left though, your rose-coloured lenses slowly paved way for you to finally see the bigger picture; to understand fully what sort of a predicament you got yourself into.

Your life could be in great peril (once again) because of one specific character that was on her way to this very carriage to kill the White Death's son himself...

...The Hornet.

I just love that Tangerine apologises for swearing in front of a lady before going ahead and doing it again haha

Next Act

[llovelyclouds]

notes on alecto

hii!! so a few months ago i did a full reread of the locked tomb and took note of anything i thought seemed particularly relevant. I want to share what I have but I'm not sure exactly how i want to format everything quite yet- but im just gonna go for it so bear with me if its a little disorganized!

throughout the process i've started coming up with some of my own theories, but i thought it would be cool to post everything i've compiled, so people could use that to make their own conclusions as well :D

I have sections for anything that seemed important about all the original lyctors & their cavaliers, so I'm going to start off with all my information gathered about alecto! buckle in, folks, there's a lot :-)

you can find links to the other posts in the project here!

(also ofc spoilers for the up to the end of nona ahead!)

ALECTO

titles:

Also referred to as “A.L.”, “Annabel Lee,”or “Annie Laurie”  John’s cavalier, the soul of the Earth. (And of course, nona <;3)

Annabel Lee poem  (mentioned htn. pg. 196)

Annie Laurie poem (mentioned htn. pg. 345)

notes from harrow the ninth:

Harrow's psychosis seems to begin after seeing Alecto for the first time (htn. pg. 51)

Augustine describes her as "more lucid" than Mercy as an insult to Mercy (htn. pg 168)

"'God, who did you bury?' [...] 'I buried a monster,' he said." (htn. pg. 195)

(depending on how much of The Body is real) Agrees that Harrow should kill G1dieon (htn. pg. 226)

“Augustine said, ‘To sisters, and to the women we‘ve left behind.’ God’s mouth was cheerful as ever, but his eyes were not when he said, 'Do I have to drink to that?’ For the first time, you were witness to the Saint of Patience discombobulated. ‘Apologies, John. Wasn’t meant as a jab.’ ‘It doesn’t hurt anymore- most of the time,’ said God, and he was still smiling.” (htn. Pg. 277)

"Even the devil bent for God to put a leash around her neck… and the disciples were scared! I cannot blame them! I was terrified! But when the work was done- when I was finished, and so were they, and the new Lyctors found out the price- they bade him kill the saltwater creature before she could do them harm… Oh, but it is a tragedy, to be put in a box and laid to wait for the rest of time." - Teacher (htn. pg. 328)

Says she has to go away for a while immediately after Varun appears (htn. pg. 334)

John says that G1deon doesn’t talk about her, but Augustine and Mercy still feel guilty about what happened (htn. pg. 345)

“When I first met her I just called her First, One. She had a real name, but I buried it with her, and nobody says it anymore.” - John (htn. Pg. 345)

“Annabel Lee was my- what do I call her? Guide? Friend? I’d hope so… [...] She was the first Resurrection. She was my Adam. As the dust settled and I beheld what was left and what was gone, I was entirely alone. The world had been ended, Harrowhark. One moment I was a man, and the next moment I was the Necrolord Prime, the first necromancer, and more importantly, a landlord with no tenants. [...] I was dazed… I was bewildered… and she was my defender and my sole companion, and my colleague in the scholarship of learning how to live again. It was bloody difficult. I had never been God. [...] She lived to see what happened at Canaan House. Not that she took much interest. My first Resurrection was not a normal human being, Harrow, and she struggled to pretend. Anger was her besetting sin. We had that in common. And when the cost of Lyctorhood was paid, when the emotions were at their peak… we found out the price for our sin. The monstrous retribution. To be chased for our crime to the ends of the universe, to have our deed stain our very faces and follow after us like a foul smell. She died after that first terrible assault.” - John (htn. pg. 346)

"That freak would have gone for me already… she could never act human." -Mercymorn (htn. pg. 408)

the lyctors knew some amount of truth about Alecto's resurrection, likely that shes essentially a resurrection beast (htn. pg. 478)

"'A monster, John!' Augustine barked. "She was a bloody monster in a human suit! She was a monster the moment you resurrected her, and then you went and made her worse!'" - Augustine (htn. pg. 478)

Gideon & Pyrrha liked Alecto despite the fact that the other lyctors (at least Mercy and Augustine) didn't (htn. pg. 479)

One of the reasons the lyctors wanted her dead was because the RBs were partially coming for her (htn. pg. 479)

Appears to claim Harrow's body after Gideon "dies" in the river (htn. pg. 500)

notes from nona the ninth

"Sometimes, [...] I don't like when you do- the necromancy word- [...] -but it feels nice at the same time. It's mixed up. It's like when you do that, it makes me sad- not sad that you did it, but sad that you can do it." - Nona, to Palamades (ntn. pg. 65) 

"Nona loved the blue sphere as much as she loved everything else. She, and nobody else, could hear it sing." (ntn. pg. 125)

"'And I'm not scared of dying. Really truly, Cam, I'm not…' 'Why not?' said Camilla. Nona thought about it. 'Because I like letting go of the pull-up bars and falling off,' she said. 'I don't like the part just before you let go and I don't like the part where you hit the floor, but I like the letting go.'"- Nona and Cam (ntn. pg. 125)

"Dust of my dust- such similar star salt- what they did to you and what they wrung from you and what shape they made you fill- we see you still- we seek you still- we murdered- we who murder- you inadvertent tool- you misused green thing- come back to us- take vengeance for us- we saw you- we see you- I see you." - Judith, (as Varun) to Nona (ntn. pg. 164)

Nona likes Gideon's (originally Pyrrhas?? maybe?) sunglasses, but only so long as nobody wore them (ntn. pg. 165)

"then she told herself sternly, Stop it! If she was going to do it, she thought, she might as well do it. She had some vague notion that when you committed to a thing you had to do it all the way. Who had said that to her? Who had taught her that? Once you've stepped in, said the voice in the back of her head, you're in. This isn't the Hokey Pokey. She had remembered something- she had finally remembered something! Only she didn't have anyone to tell." (ntn. pg. 203)

"Nona had thrown exactly two tantrums in her entire life. She couldn't remember anything about the first one, but Pyrrha had told her about it. Pyrrha had been laughing with her mouth, but not with her eyes: her eyes had been very brown and distant and uneasy, as though this tantrum had reminded Pyrrha of something her brain didn't want to bring back." (ntn. pg. 275)

"'But you see, Palamades, I don't mind dying,' said Nona, trying to make him understand. 'I've been doing it for ages. I'm not scared.'" (ntn. pg. 289)

"'I am glad you did not tell us this. We had no idea there was any recourse from Varun the Eater's effects, nor any beast.' 'Its pure theory,' Camilla said curtly. "Something's being transmitted through the light spectrum. Absorption through the eyes is worse for the brain.' This made Nona think of something. It tugged at the edges of her memory and stayed there, nagging.'" - We Suffer & Cam (ntn. pg. 322) 

Nona says that she never liked her hands (ntn. pg. 357)

"She wanted to shout. She wanted to be listened to. She wished the barrier had taken her hands. She wished she had thrust herself into it- become that big seething mass of flesh and meat and tendrils- ruined her body, just melted it; come back messed up, so that nobody could want her body but her, so that it would be hers and nobody else's. This was a horrible thing to think. Nona hated herself immediately and fervently." (ntn. pg. 358)

She hates having just two feet (ntn. pg. 390)

“You were the noise that was everywhere. It was like trying to talk to someone down a phone line with someone screaming through a megaphone in the same room. You drowned everything out. You were so huge and so complicated, and you were screaming, You wouldn’t stop screaming, You were so scared. You were so goddamn mad.” (ntn. pg. 405)

“You were screaming. I wanted you to stop, I wanted… I wanted you. I wanted you like a caveman wants a wildfire… or the sun. I thought you were going to take me, somehow. Purge me. Use me as an instrument. But you didn’t say anything…I was babbling, Show me. Come on. I’m ready. You kept screaming and screaming… like a baby in pain. So I tried to hurt you- I did hurt you. I reached out for you, and it hurt you… but I wasn’t strong enough. The caveman. The wildfire. The Neolithic priest staggering in front of the falling star.” (ntn. pg. 407)

“I wanted to make you the most beautiful body I could think of. He paused and said: “But I was stressed, okay? I was insane. Most of what had made me John had gone somewhere else. There were a few little thoughts left…a handful of things that made me me… a couple scraps of id. It’s not fair to judge me, right? I didn’t do this thinking… I didn’t do it like art. When I was seven, you know, all Nana had to play with in her house was some of Mum’s old toys. And my favourite out of all of them…” He gave a long, shuddering sigh. “My favourite was her old Hollywood Hair Barbie,” he murmured. “I loved her little gold outfit and her long yellow hair. She was the best. She got to have all the adventures. [...]” He said, from my blood and bone and vomit I conjured up a beautiful labyrinth to house you in. I was terrified you’d find some way to escape before I was done. I made you look like a Christmas tree fairy… I made you look like a Renaissance angel… I made you Adam and Eve… Galatea. Barbie. Frankenstien’s monster with long yellow hair. He said, As the world went up I remade us both. I hid me in you… I hid you in me. And when we were together… once the shaman had claimed the sun… I became God.”- John (ntn. pg. 408)

“Do you remember what you said to me once I had done it? When we stood here together?” She looked at him and she said, “Yes.” He said- “You said, ‘I picked you to change, and this is how you repay me?’” She said- “What else did I say?” He said: “You said, ‘What have you done to me? I am a hideousness.’” She said- “What else did I say?” He said, “Where did you put the people? Where did they go?” She said, “I still love you.” He said, "You said that too.” - John & Alecto/Harrow (ntn. Pg. 410)                                                

Nona has some kind of blackout on top of the truck and something happens in that time that convinces Pyrrha of her true identity (ntn. pg. 413)

Also based on Nona’s reaction at that point, maybe Alecto didn’t like Pyrrha even though Pyrrha liked Alecto (ntn. pg. 413)

“She’s scared to die. You’re afraid of so many things, but she’s only afraid to die. Then when the disciples come to you and say the word Lyctor, she does not understand that they want the thing you did to her- she watches as you watch… watch them misunderstand the process.” - Harrow, to John, (ntn. pg. 434)

“In [Aiglemene’s] hands was a huge black-metal pike about the same height as her, with an edge that gleamed in the light. Nona couldn’t stop herself looking at that edge: for some reason it made her palms sweat, and the back of her neck itch again.” (ntn. pg. 454)

“I might not help you when.. I'm back," she said, not quite understanding I. “I'll be different. I'll remember everything. I'll remember the thing I'm trying to forget. And Palamedes-  I won't love him. I won't love Camilla, or Pyrrha, or Hot Sauce, or even Noodle. I won't love anything… I won't know how. I won't be me at all, or.. I'll be the me who knows the thing, and knowing the thing means I'm not Nona- I'm someone else." (ntn. pg. 460)

she recognizes the tower, and the devils (ntn. pg. 440, and 447, respectively)

“You let that monster out of its box," said Ianthe, "and you start us down a path nobody can save us from. If God truly wants her out… if Teacher set this all up… if he wants her…"  “Wants her? He told me to kill her. He said Make it quick, but kill her, said me with my blood could do it- said me with my blood, I was the only one… " [...] “He loves her! " Ianthe howled. “John loves Alecto - John needs Alecto! Without that piece of Goddamn fridge meat, he's nothing- and we need to keep him that way!” - Ianthe & Kiriona, accidentally prompting nona to remember everything (ntn. pg. 470)

“She had been taken down this corridor: she had squeezed through this crack in the rock- not a passageway, not at that point. John had told her he had something to show her. He had said, It's very pretty. You'll like it. [...] John loved her. She was John's cavalier. She loved John. For she so loved the world that she had given them John. For the world so loved John that she had been given. For John had so loved her that he had made her she. for John had loved the world. [...] She hadn't come on purpose; the scrap of black-eyed meat had asked for it- the chain of a kiss: the ice that burnt the flesh of the mouth that had stuck to the mouth that was frozen.The teardrop on the hand. The hand that John had fashioned. [...] John had said, It's so beautiful. Come and look. She had said, There are almost no beautiful things left. where is Anastasia? Let me talk to Anastasia. [...] Glowworms, she had told John. Technically beetles, said John, but I always loved them. Narrow beetles with long strands hanging off them- a carpet of shifting, dead, winking lights at the top of the grave. Greenish, orangish, yellowish, moving over one another silently with those long filaments hanging down. [...] And the water- the huge pool of real salt water, where she had knelt and drank- [...] John and she had swum to the centre hummock rising out of the pool. Not an island, not really. An outcropping. With the marble pillars, and the marble top, and the long low marble table. He said he thought it was a nice place to be. To lie down. She had liked hard things to lie down on. It was hard to endure having a spine.” (ntn. starting page 471)

“There she was; John had made her so ugly, so unbearably ugly. The terrible face, with the terrible arms and legs and the terrible middle part, and the terrible hair, and the terrible ears: the nose too short, the ears too brief. But there she was- and within her the child, asleep, with the strange sword. The sword- her sword- her own edge had been pushed out, her swinging edge, her toy. Her plain bladed sword. And her body was chained up…” (ntn. pg. 474)

“Then Alecto remembered the vow, and turned back upon the altar to face the second child and raised the sword with wrath in her heart, for they meant to bring destruction upon her. But when the black-eyed infant showed her countenance to Alecto, Alecto recalled her, for it was a face one dreamed in Alecto's dream. and Alecto stayed the sword.” (ntn. pg. 476)

“And Alecto said, Pyrrha, he laid me down as an appeasement to them; he fed you to them as an appeasement to them; but he has never appeased me, and now all he has done was teach me how to die." (ntn. Pg. 476) 

"Alecto said, I am very sorry about Samael. The child made no answer. Alecto said, I remember my vows. As I swore to Anastasia I swear to you. I am in your service until you bid me the favour, and whatsoever you appoint I shall perform, and consider the vow rendered. This is what I promised, until such a time as you deal with me as you see fit.” (ntn. pg. 477)

[thefatisland]

Okay so I did a brief digging into the manhwa works of Taejun Pak, the creator of Lookism. I won't go too deep into it all because these stories all are basically about hyper-violence in one way or another, and that's not something I feel I can enjoy. I don't mind a battle story, but Pak's creations are... a bit too much for me. I said how much I disliked Lookism, his more recent works like My Life as a Loser seem to be a bit better, though still not my cup of tea. Though this is obvious that it is because Pak is still making himself out as a manhwa creator - Lookism was literaly his first creation, and it shows as it bears all the marks of a "first project". His later projects seem more focused, more well-handled, more precise in what they try to do. However, I digress...

What I meant to say is that Pak clearly has a certain interest in exploring the various male body types and indeed, as I thought, almost all of his works contain presentations of fat male bodies to various degrees. (Since this post is VERY long, all under cut)

All was sparked recently due to the main character of "My Life as a Loser 2" being a very muscular guy who turned basically obese since the last time we saw him

I already talked a long time ago about Lookism, which started out and maintained this very bad habit of depicting all the overweight characters as... inhuman, grotesque, half-chibified abominations.

Except for this one side characters, originally the main antagonist, then turned sort of side-kick, then co-protagonist? I don't know, Lookism is very convoluted... but this guy who is drawn like a regular person, and does get an entire arc of him losing weight, and then regaining all back and some more, before returning to his usual size. Logan Lee, that's the name. And apparently from a quick image research he at one point loses the fat and get buff? Okay...

Oh yes and you can count the main character who, as he loses the weight, slowly turns more and more human-looking but... I mean come on, that's typical Korean fatphobia to the max, the guy literaly has to slim down to be human.

Well I would have said "typical Korean fatphobia" if there wasn't all those other detailed, constantly shirtless, and shown as strong fat characters that keep popping up in th artists' other works.

Another one of Pak's famous works is "Questing Supremacy" which also has its share of fat characters (notoriously shown here as hard to fight due to their weight apparently? I am relying on the screenshots I could find)

Though it makes sense since most of these series all take place within the same universe, with recurring background, organizations and characters. One of the fat guys is actually a (tertiary I would say?) antagonist that started in Lookism and then returned in Questing Supremacy. Someone did a compilation of how his frames were reused, and you can see the style evolution between the two works)

Viral Hit (also known as "How to fight") also contains some characters with fat on them (though I don't know much about this series), most notoriously Donseok Ok (referred to as "the fat boxer" by some Internauts)

And this guy everybody is crazy over apparently, Mangi Hwang

There's probably many more but, as I said, I probably won't get too deep into this all because... I just don't have the time to explore entire multiverses of webtoons about gang members and bullies beating up each other - no matter how cool or good-looking the fat guys might look. If anyone has specific info, indications or screenshots they want to share, as usual don't hesitate (I think I should open a "Submit" option on this blog...).

And why do I have the strange feeling that someone Pak hesitated drawing fat men early on but as time passes by he just goes all in and takes a huge kick out of it?

I am thinking especially about "My Life as a Loser 2": the main protagonist, after letting himself go massively, returns to the past (though in a different body) and we get to see back his muscular, fit self... Only for this old body to become just as massive if not more as the "future obese" self for reasons yet unknown and unclear (I will be on the lookout for explanations as to how he could grow that big in just a month). If there's no explanation, it's just that the creator wanted to have this fat design for as much as possible...

[marimayscarlett]

By all means *eyes emoji*

Hi 👋

I took this ask as an invitation to figuratively dive into Richard's coat closet, and tried to compile every coat he wore in the last 30 years.

And oh boy, this man surely loves a good coat. He's the one member of this band who consecutively wore a coat on almost every tour and really takes a liking in the dramaturgical effect of wearing long (often times dark in color) coats and later reveiling additional outfits underneath, especially in later years. It fits his somewhat dramatic stage presence and he started quite early with these kind of stage outfits!

I subdevided this overview in two sub-topics to give this post somewhat of a structure, because this will be long.

1.) Richard's coats on stage (organized by year and tour)

1.1) Firstly, the plain black coat from the Herzeleid tour which he wore in 1995/1996. It's from what I could find the first time he wore a coat on stage while playing for Rammstein.

1.2) Addtionally, he wore the shiny red and silver coat during the Herzeleid tour as well as partly on the Sehnsucht tour in 1997. Same as the black coat before, he forwent any additional outfit underneath.

1.3) Also on the Sehnsucht tour, Richard wore the somewhat futuristic (reminded me a little bit of Star Treck costumes) black and silver coat which is clearly visible in Live aus Berlin. It suited the whole style of this era quite nicely and fit into the vibe of Till's cyborg/futuristic jacket as well.

1.4) For his outfit during the Reise Reise tour in 2004/2005, Richard settled for a black military-style coat. The button rows seem to be reminiscent of french military uniforms from the 17th and 18th century (as well as the button lines and the embroidery on the collar of the underjacket) and his pants were designed in a similar style. The lining of the coat is bright red, a theme which would occur numerous times over the years.

1.5) During the LIFAD tour, Richard wore a grey-mottled coat made out of a somewhat leathery material, adorned with silver buttons and a red armband - again he incorporated a red element in this coat, just like with the one before. On a sidenote: He once mentioned that Michael Jackson was an inspiration for this armband because Richard liked the cool look of it - his leg-belts (visible in the right picture) also kind of resemble the harness Michael wore on stage and in some videos during his Bad era.

1.6) An absolute personal favourite of mine: The studded coat Richard chose for the 2013 part of the Made in Germany tour, oftentimes paired with the torn black and red top underneath. This one also got red lining, as well as a fine red line near the cuffs of the coat.

1.7) In 2016 for the Festival tour, Richard wore coat in a more cosy and snuggly style, which marked a break in the clean cut coat-aesthetic up to this point. It was more in the style of a cardigan with a zipper instead of buttons. The armband made a reappearance as the signature red element (mirrored by a red band on his pants), and red lines along the seams added this colourful accent.

1.8) For the 2019 tour leg of the Stadium tour, Richard mixed things up by wearing a two piece combo made out of a leathery material, with a studded cap on the right shoulder and red elements in form of the usual arm band and a red folding in the front. The lower part of this outfit was removable, so the upper part remained as a jacket.

1.9) In 2022, he wore an all black coat with a belt and flaps along the shoulders, as well as snap fasteners as buttons; it overall resembled the typical look of a trenchcoat and seemed less rigid then the previous ensemble.

1.10) A true fandom favourite appeared on the scene in 2022 when he presented the infamous chicken coat. This one was already known from the "Freeze my mind" music video (from 2021) from Richard's side project and other band Emigrate. Different than in the music video, where a vest completed the look, Richard again after years went on stage without any outfit under it. This coat was used by him also during this year's tour leg.

1.11) Another personal favourite of mine is the black coat with red lining which he wore during this year's tour. Affectionatly dubbed "the vampire coat", this coat appears to be quite clean cut and simple, but has a very nice and dramatic effect on him (choosing gifs this time to underline this sentiment).

2.) Richard's coats off stage

Here are some of the coats Richard wore off stage during band fotoshoots and outings. Not counting normal jackets or parcas here.

2.1) The fur-lined coat during the Rosenrot fotoshooting:

2.2) The reoccuring black coat with fluffy fur elements, worn by him while being presented with awards in 2005 in Berlin as well as during the Echo award show in 2009:

2.3) He wore another black coat which looked pretty similar to the one before but is still slightly different during a signing in Paris 2004:

2.4) And a brown/beige kind of trenchcoat was his style of choice for the Fashion rock night in 2009:

2.5) During the outdoor shooting for the LIFAD album, Richard wore another black coat:

2.6) And lastly, the fancy embroidered coat Richard chose for promotion pictures for (I think) his first album with his band Emigrate:

Not sure if I was thouroughly enough and found every coat he ever wore, but I think the presented ones here really express his love for this piece of clothing in general 😊 I'm looking forward to either seeing a new coat on Richard next year or a return of his vampire coat 🦇 (Still hoping to see the studded coat someday again).

(Used picture sources: Rammwiki and the Rammsteinworld gallery - wonderful rabbit holes to get lost in.)

[beevean]

Apologies, rant incoming: Yeah, I *immediately* thought back to Frontiers' idea of "character development" by 'repeating info about the characters you already knew about' when observing nearly all of SXSG. And while I know the upcoming movie is still very YMMV atm, I at least can expect it to be fun and different because it's not repeating SA2 or ShtH's story. And yes, I will acknowledge that being different =/= being good, but the movies are recognized as their own thing, and whatever changes they do to the source material can be ignored as not canon anyway.

Plus, and this was another whole issue with SXSG itself, anything it shows or says about Maria is... just as basic or nothing new as Shadow was given. Just the Purity Sure/Morality Pet Shadow more or less always colored his memory of her with. This on it's own wouldn't be too bad... except ofc we hadn't had these impressions already beaten into us via the manga and Dark Beginnings! Those really were nothing but "Wasn't Maria Great to Shadow? Oh Golly Gee, She Sure Was Amazing!" Meanwhile you got Gerald, aka Shadow creator and therefore ALSO an important figure in Shadow's story... practically a third wheel in favor of her (no his journal entries don't count, telling us about his sons and revealing Maria has a young sister don't inform us about who they were as individuals, just more of their family line). Here *I* was expecting a small yet sad flashback scene of Shadow and pre-insane Gerald interacting before segwaying back into the present where Shadow sighs sorrowfully at what the doctor became. But no, apparently too simple to imagine, Maria has to hog all the angst because Play It Safe N Predictable. And fans have predictably eaten it up...

I will give SXSG that it feels way less self-masturbatory than Frontiers. Characters don't stand around talking about their development, there is a more substantial story there. It's just that just like Frontiers, the game is recycling plot points that they used 20 years ago, pretending it's some new change. Great for newcomers! Not so much for the people who have stuck around since then.

(and even then, if someone hasn't played Adventure 2 or doesn't want to play ShTH because they heard it's bad, playthroughs are there. Cutscenes compilations are there.)

I really liked the NPC dialogue for both Maria and Gerald. Maria reveals more of their life, like her academic progress (apparently Shadow was a worse student than she was lol) or that she finds Shadow's quills cool. Gerald has some cute lines like an actually subtle reference to '06, in that he theorizes that two people could create a time portal but he isn't sure how to test it. But yeah, Maria is always given more attention compared to Gerald, admittedly always had ever since ShTH. And her having to tell Shadow to please not leave her in White Space because she'll live on in him 💖 feels like a way to make her Pure Goodness shine... while taking away from Shadow, who really should know better than to think about freezing his loved ones in a void for his own comfort.

Another good point is about the tie-in material. Shouldn't they act as prequels of sort, to give context to what happens in the game? Instead they once again seem to be more like recaps! "Shadow and Maria loved each other very much. Maria was a Good Girl. She was killed. Shadow, Rouge and Omega make a team. There is a commander." And even then, the scene of Maria taking a stand against the GUN soldiers does more to flesh her out than the game's cutscenes. But then again, that's another thing I noticed with SXSG: the dialogue is incredibly repetitive. You thought Sage being like "no I won't share data with the enemy" got annoying? Take a shot everytime Black Doom boasts about Shadow being his greatest creation (but when Gerald does it it's played for heartwarms, although it is a very interesting parallel...) or someone talks about how Shadow's biology, the same biology he's using to destroy levels and bosses, doesn't matter one bit. I get it.

[thekingofthenameless]

i saw your DILFFFFFF merlin (i believe that was his name yes? long dreads, dark skin, absolute dilf?) and i want to know everything now literally everything. specifically a compilation of all your favourite quotes from him pls and thank you :)))

Thanks for the question @thecomfywriter! :D

My current description of him (in a nutshell). Black trans aroace icon. Would probably look good in anything and has endless drip in his regular outfit. A highly empathetic, dignified, mellow, and smart person who struggles with schizophrenia, psychosis (as a result of his schizophrenia), anxiety, C-PTSD, and misophonia, but is still kind because he doesn’t want others to suffer what he’s been through. Secretly the God of Magic walking among mortals. Raised a literal dragon.

He’s so cool and pretty <3

Telling you everything would take a while, and might also contain a more than few spoilers (and I'm also hosting a Q&A currently which would ruin the purpose lol), but here's my Ao3! I have nine chapters of oneshots at the moment, and more to come. :D And of course, you're free to participate in the Q&A!

Here are a few of my favorite Merlin quotes from my published oneshots (in the chronological order they take place, not in the chronological order I wrote them lol). I probably have more, both from the published writing, and from unpublished writing I actually like sitting around, but... I'll be honest; I can't be bothered to look for it at the moment lol.

“Sorry,” his savior answered, not sounding sorry at all.

“Charlemagne?” Ganieda repeated incredulously. “Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather have me name him Scorch?” Merlin shot back.

“Maybe I should have introduced you to them,” Merlin idly mused while using the potion. “But I for all I know, Ganieda would have found that even stranger… she’s my younger sister, by the way. Two years younger, in fact, even if she is an adult and married, because for some reason, I age extremely slowly. Every five years is one year of aging. I wonder if you age slowly too?” Merlin wondered, and how did Merlin keep guessing and end up being right? Maybe it was luck, and if so, then maybe things would be better than they ever were with [Charlie's] parents. He'd be lucky enough to stay, he'd be lucky enough to grow up... Merlin kept talking, obviously not knowing his thoughts. “The woman you hadn’t met is Vivian, and she and Ganieda are married. Or you’d probably say they’re mates, now that I think about it. Either way, it’s completely disgusting, as I said. Everyone keeps saying ‘Oh, you’ll be next, Merlin, and you won’t find it disgusting when you find that special someone!’ No, fuck that.” The sudden outburst of language made him want to burst out laughing, but all he could manage was a little rumble. “Seriously, I don’t understand it! ‘You’ll understand when you’re older, Merlin,’- I’m sixty-five, so I’m not sure when I’ll understand. But who knows? Maybe now that I have you, they’ll stop teasing me about it. I can hope, at least.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re all right,” he whispers even though the dragon shows no signs of waking.

“Um- yes,” Merlin replies after a moment of them all just staring at each other. Then he turns back to the dragon, murmuring, “Shh. Are you hurt?”

“I know. I know. It’s all right,” Merlin replies, pressing relieved kisses into the parts of his head not covered in blood. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“[Charlie’s] not a pet,” Merlin snaps immediately, eyes shining brightly even behind his glasses, and the sudden change in mood is enough to put her hands up in surrender.

Taglist: @gaylightisminetocommand, @the-arson-author-gamer, @honeyxmonkey, @danhengsbestie

[grubgirl413readshomestuck]

Homestuck pages 1-35

Just starting and I can already remember why people are so hooked on it!

(Sorry for all screenshots being dark mode)

I forgot John was into programming for a while, I feel like this wasn’t very touched on until KARKAT was introduced (if I remember correctly)

Also the hand that was never mentioned again </3

John was a creative lad, perhaps he should have gone into graphic design.

I sometimes forget that the first few pages were suggestions from readers and I’m glad for it because we have this forever:

What a lovely name!

I forgot how much Harry Anderson was actually mentioned in the original comic, no wonder he named his son after him

Oh yeah! Dave is sorta introduced here too!

I forgot to screenshot it but I really like how Dave speaks in the first few pages, he just comes across as a really cool guy who has stuff figured out

Also John is there

I still think about Dave often and he makes me sad

Final thoughts:

Even in just a few pages Homestuck is already full and fun of the whimsy I remember last time!

I can’t wait to get deeper into it and find anything I missed and any foreshadowing!

Compilation of stupid faces!:

(Sorry if this was formatted weirdly, I haven’t really done one of these before and idk what ik supposed to say or how I’m supposed to format these things)

(Also also I was going to read more by my computer had to restart and I wanted to remember what I wanted to say!)