I just love this idea more and more ;v; So yeah I think Flug wasn’t always a Dullahan! Maybe he really crashed down into the mansion of Black Hat with the airplane we can see in the roof? What if he was actually decapitated in the accident? And by the use of Black Hats dark magic (kinda) brought back to life… just not in one piece :”D BH just wanted to have a minion to do his bidding but it turned out that Flug was a really good inventor! So yeah he was lucky and kept him to work for him. To make sure he not just bolts away, he keeps his head hidden… telling him that he will get it back if he succeeds (obviously a lie, poor Flug) Flug also made his (mask) Paperbag-head himself to help him communicate. I’m working on more details about this <3
Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, but don’t judge on what you see. I’ll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, your top hats sleek and tall. For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat and I can cap them all. There’s nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can’t see, so try me on and I will tell you where you ought to be.
Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Rating: Explicit Summary:Reader wants to eat the breakfast Chris has cooked for her, but he has other plans. Blame your too sexy denim shorts! Word Count: 1.7k Genre: NSFW/SMUT Warning:Long detailed oral sex (female receiving).
Gifs used below aren’t mine,
credit to the rightful owners.
Freshly out of your morning shower, you finished adding the last touches to your light makeup after you had gotten dressed in your favorite denim shorts and a white cotton blouse.
Walking in the kitchen, you followed the smell of the pancakes and fresh fruits that Chris had cooked, accompanied by the exotic effluvia of hot coffee. You smiled at the sight of your boyfriend too busy to notice your presence as his back was turned to you, humming the slow melody of a song you both loved.
You walked up to him and folded your arms around his broad chest, wrapped by his Henley shirt, planting a longing and loving kiss at the back of his neck as he smiled widely.
“Hmm, what did I do so special for you to cook this morning?” You murmured.
“You came into my life,” Chris accompanied your mocking laugh and you moved your body to rest against the counter, standing next to him.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about our trip to Boston next week and…” you trailed off, noticing Chris’ baby blue gaze remaining locked on your frame. “What, you don’t like the outfit?“ You interrogated, checking out, yet he didn’t answer and kept looking at you.
His gaze was so ardent that you almost forgot how to breathe properly. Every time your man laid his eyes on you with such fierce, you felt the desire rising inside.
Your boyfriend eventually looked up at your blown eyes, licking his full lips and you could see his pupils dilating slowly as he drank in the view from his orbs like he had been in the desert for long days of a burning hot summer.
in Prague with a friend this week and I put this on schedule so lets hope it
Requested to use the line “because I love you, that’s why.” Be aware this has a
trigger warning, so think twice before reading. Also, I would love to hear
feedback on this because I am honestly so fucking nervous.
Hearing someone you love cry, is probably the worst
feeling ever. The worst kind of pain I’ve ever experienced. I felt her pain.
Deep in my chest. In every fibre of my body. With every dense heart beat. I
felt it. Hearing her desperate sore cries from the other side of the door, it
killed me inside. Left me numb and frozen.
We swallow the darkness down through our eyes that have found home in everything we didn’t want to see. Some days the sun seems like a foreign feeling and this skin remains stained in all the ways night didn’t turn out to be. We unfold dark into stars and we still paint new dates with a moon that stays. We don’t know what’s more wrong, the demons inside our head or the ways we never knew if nights ever turn in the right ways.
I loved doing this one. Here’s #11: “If I die I’m going to haunt your ass.”
“You’re the worst, like the actual worst!”
Derek huffed beside him, “if you don’t shut up I’ll leave without you.”
Stiles paused, eyes wide and mouth dropped in shock at the threat. He didn’t sense any joke behind it. Instead he went back to his silent freak out as he did his best to ignore the undead groans from the other side of the door.
Zombies. Freaking zombies. As if Beacon Hills couldn’t get any worse. This time if people were bitten they wouldn’t turn into were-somethings. They’d be zombies; rotten, gnarly, undead flesh craving things. Of course Stiles had played his fair share of online games with his friends to fight off creatures, like zombies, but the real thing was much more terrifying. They smelled terrible, their skin looked horrendous especially when it fell off in chunks, and for the love of God the noises were things of nightmares.
Sick pained groans that were hollow and void of any sort of intelligence.
Very hungry actually since they tried to make him Stilinski a-la-mode about five minutes ago and Derek a Hale sunday.
“This is your plan? Hide in a storage closet?” Stiles asked and flailed just crazily enough to knock over a paint can.
It clattered to the floor with a harsh sound followed by a long silence. Derek’s eyes flashed blue, and gave Stiles level ten of the Hale-Glare-of-Gloom™. From outside the storage room of the old factory the silence gave way to loud hungry moans of the undead, bodies banging against the door. The rusted hinges weren’t going to last if the pileup on the other side grew until the pressure was too much.
“If I die I’m going to haunt your ass,” Stiles muttered as he shuffled backwards until he was flush with the wall, his heart about to beat out of his chest.
“You’re not going to die Stiles,” Derek said.
“I’m so going to die, you’ll probably heal,” he said, his hand ran through his hair but didn’t seem to have its usual calming effect, “oh, God. I’m gonna be a zombie—holy, Derek…you gotta keep my dad away from fast food, alright? His cholesterol is through the roof. Give Scott my comic collection; he’ll keep them safe–”
His panicked ramble was cut off when Derek was suddenly in his space, his hands tight around Stiles’ shoulders. There was this look of…uncertainty in his pale green eyes, and before Stiles knew what happened he was wearing the leather jacket.
“Keep your head down, hang on tight, and whatever happens…run,” Derek said seriously before he hoisted Stiles up onto his back.
Stiles gasped in surprise, his legs automatically locked around Derek’s waist as his arms wrapped around Derek’s shoulders. His mind raced with questions, for example; why the fuck Derek was about to risk his life for him of all people? Seriously there was no rhyme or reason for it, the guy made his dislike for Stiles crystal clear.
The door was kicked open, the hinges flying off and the metal crushed the few zombies right in front of it. There was a split second path and Derek was already running; Stiles let out a small shriek and curled himself tighter against Derek, his head hidden in the crook of Derek’s neck. Hands tried to swipe at him, but the leather and denim he wore made it hard for hands to actually grab and tear into his flesh.
Stiles had no idea how Derek was doing, he had no idea if he was hurt, he had no idea where they were going. At one point Derek jumped, and they free fell for a while before landing. Eventually though they made it to a place where fresh air was all around them and the noises of zombies were gone.
He found it in himself to look up when Derek slowed, they made it out of the old factory, into the back end of the woods.
Well almost, because suddenly Derek collapsed to the ground with Stiles still on him. His knees smacked onto the hard ground violently but he had enough sense to roll off Derek, finally taking a second to see if he was okay.
“Oh my God, dude, Derek!” Stiles gasped and scrambled to his knees to shove Derek on his back and off his wounds.
There were angry tears of skin and muscle, blood oozed out in thick globs, and Stiles was so sure he was about to puke. Derek let out a pained sound and tried to curl in on himself only to fail and fall back.
“You so cannot die! We save each other! We don’t freaking die!” Stiles exclaimed, trying to see if the wounds were healing themselves or not.
Hands cupped his face and pulled him away from Derek’s torso. His eyes met pale ones which were riddled with pain. Stiles hated that; he couldn’t even do the cool werewolf pain drain thing, he could only sit there helplessly. He wasn’t just sitting there though, because now he was bent down with lips on his which were surprisingly soft.
So maybe he totally flailed and maybe he accidently bit Derek’s lip, but he was well within his freak out rights. Derek Hale was kissing him and he hasn’t kissed many people, let alone super attractive people that were so out of his league.
Stiles pulled back, lips still semi-puckered with his brows drawn in, “why did that feel like a goodbye kiss?”
Derek had the audacity to roll his eyes, “not…a goodbye kiss, it was a ‘calm down I’m healing slowly’ kiss.”
“So you’re not dying?!”
“No, I can feel myself healing.”
“Oh sweet Jesus,” Stiles wheezed, leaning back down for another kiss which was probably only a little less clumsy than the first one.
“What kind of kiss was that?” Derek asked softly.
“I think it was a ‘thank god you’re not dead don’t do that to me again you dick’ kiss,” Stiles answered.
Prompt: While undercover at a school in New York, Tom falls for the pretty valedictorian and his partner for an English project.
Word Count: 3070
A/N: 3000 and several months later, I finally published another one shot!!! Yay! I’m not dead yet!
“I can’t believe it- I’m literally going back to high school.” Tom muttered angrily before biting into his toast for breakfast.
“Hey, you wanted to play Spiderman.” Harrison said, taking a sip of his tea.
“I know, but I didn’t think Marvel would legitimately send me to an American high school.”
As Harrison went to respond, his phone lit up, “Well, I got to go. Have fun at school, Stanley Osterfield.” He ruffled Tom’s hair playfully before leaving the room to answer his phone. Tom let out another huff of annoyance as he finished his meal. He fixed his hair in the bathroom mirror and grabbed his backpack, before heading out the door to his first day at an American high school.
Your AP Physics C instructor droned on about how magnetic fields are created as you drifted off into space. Just as your eyes were beginning to shut, the door squeaked open and a brown-haired boy walked in.
“I’m sorry. I got lost.” He said, handing Mr. Smith a pass. The teacher glanced down at him, then peered back up at the teenager.
“Transfer, eh?” Mr. Smith tossed the paper on the desk, “Take a seat in the back, next to Lucas.”
“Okay.” The boy said and began to walk to the back of the classroom. You, along with your classmates, stared at him as he walked; all of you wondering how-how he managed to get into the Bronx School of Science and Engineering at this point of the year. No one new had arrived since freshman year, so why suddenly in your senior year is someone knew arriving? He must be brilliant, in order to have bypassed all the tests and the waiting lists. You had a strange feeling about him. He looked all too familiar; when he passed by you and his brown eyes caught yours, you could’ve sworn you’d seen them before.
Your instructor continued with his lecture, acting as if he wasn’t questioning the arrival of a new student.
Four classes later, you saw him again. The new kid, Stan if you had heard the rumor properly, was in your physics class as well as your AP Literature and Composition class. This time, however, he wasn’t late, which seemed to please Ms. Hall.
“The AP Literature and Composition test is based upon your ability to analyze pieces of literature.” Ms. Hall spoke as she passed around a yellow sheet of paper with black printing on it, “For this project, you will be reading a classic novel and film a short movie based upon it. I will assign you a partner to work with on this project, as well as a book for it.” She then rattled off names in partners, calling you out last, “Y/N and Stanley, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.” You immediately looked over at the new boy. He simply pulled his beanie down lower and kept his head hidden in his arms.
Class continued as normal with no further discussion about the film project. After class, you went over to Ms. Hall’s desk to ask her about your partner.
“Y/N, are you here to ask why I partnered you with the new student?” She said before you managed to get a word out. You nodded sheepishly, “I did it because you are the valedictorian and my brightest student. I know you will do well on the project and I know that you will also manage to help him get comfortable in this school.”
“Okay. I think it will be fine. And, Ms. Hall, I am not valedictorian yet.”
“You’ve always been so modest. You will be valedictorian-I’m quite sure of it.” She smiled at you, “Have a good afternoon.”
“You too, Ms. Hall.” You replied, exiting the classroom. You headed straight for your locker to drop off your textbooks, so that you could head home.
“Excuse me, do you know where the library is?” You heard someone question. You turned around and were met with the eyes of Stanley.
“It’s on the other side of that building. You just walk down that hallway, through both sets of doors, and you’ll be there.” You explained.
“Right. Thank you.” When he turned to leave, you stopped him.
“You’re Stanley, right? The new student?” You said.
“Yes, that’s me.” He turned back around to face you.
“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, your partner for the English assignment.” You held your hand out for him to shake.
“Stanley Osterfield, but you can call me Stan.” He replied, shaking your hand with a smile.
“What are you off to the library for?”
“Textbooks-and also Pride and Prejudice.”
“If you give me a minute, I’ll walk with you. I need Pride and Prejudice as well.”
“Oh okay.” Stan said, waiting for you as you finished up at your locker.
“I have a copy of it, but I’m afraid my sister took it back to Florida, so I’ll most likely never get it back.”
“So you’ve read it before?” He asked as you both headed down the hallway towards the library.
“Yes, it’s one of my favorites. I’ve always been a fan of classical literature, especially novels from the U.K.”
“Have you ever been?”
“To the U.K.?” You questioned and he nodded, “Never, but I’m hoping to study at University College London next year.”
“UCL? Isn’t it hard to get into?”
“I suppose, but I’m hopeful.”
“Well, you’ll love it there. I’ve been to the U.K. quite a few times and it’s great.”
“Do you have family there?” You asked and Tom laughed with a nod.
“Yes, yes I do.” He responded as he held the library door open for you.
“So, Stan, how was your first day of school?” Harrison asked when the front door of his shared apartment with Tom opened that afternoon. He had been sitting on the couch, watching TV while eating chips.
“Boring and long.” He stated, dropping his backpack and books off on the dining room table.
“Make any friends?”
“No; besides, I’m only here for a month.” He stole the bag of chips from Harrison on his way to his room.
“What are all the numbers on your hand then?” Harrison called after Tom.
“Homework.” He responded as he shut the door between them. Tom looked down at his hand where the numbers were written. He hadn’t meant to make friends, but he somehow had become acquainted with you on his first day. He didn’t refuse when you offered to give him your number, so that you could communicate for the project. He continued to tell himself that it was for a project and not for any sort of relationship.
A few weeks later:
“Stan, I’m serious. The project is due next week and we still have to film and edit it. When will you be open?” You questioned as the two of you walked down the school hallway. Tom kept joking around and you could see that he was far from taking this project seriously.
“I can do whenever. I haven’t got any plans this weekend.”
“Ok, so we’ll film at my place tomorrow. And then you are going to study for that physics test.”
“But physics is boring.” He whined as you opened your locker.
“Oh well. You need to pass this test.”
“But it’s so hard. I don’t understand anything.”
“I really have no clue how you got into this school. You don’t know a thing about science at all.”
“I know Newton’s three laws.”
“Stan, everyone knows that.” You laughed, rolling your eyes at him.
“I’m an idiot, but that’s why I have you-the smartest girl in school- to help me.” He smiled as the bell rang.
“I’ll see you in second period.”
“See you then.” He replied as he took off to make it to class. You sighed as you closed your locker. At least it was a Friday.
“Are we doing British accents or not?”
“I can work with British.” Tom said, switching into his normal accent, as you two carried on up a small hill, where you’d begin filming.
“You definitely have spent a lot of time in England for your accent to be that good. I don’t know many Americans who can talk like that.” You laughed.
“I’ve had practice. Your turn.”
“Yeah, I think we’re going to stay with normal American accents because my British accent is terrible.” You stated, setting up the camera on a tripod.
“Alright, we’ll do American accents. Might make it less legit.” Tom said, making you shrug.
“I just want to get this over with. Ready, Mr. Darcy?” You asked.
“Always, Miss Bennet.”
“Let’s start it then.” You pressed play on the camera and got into position in front of Tom.
“I couldn’t sleep.” You said.
“Nor I. My aunt-”
“Yes, she was here.”
“How could I ever make amends for such behavior?”
“After what you have done for Lydia and I suspect Jane also, it is I who should be making amends.” Tom stepped closer to you, prepared for Darcy’s speech.
“You must know, surely you must know, it was all for you. You are too generous to trifle with me. I believe you spoke with my aunt last night, and it has taught me to hope as I’d scarcely allowed myself before. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever.” He stepped closer to you once more, “If, however, your feelings have changed, I would have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love… I love… I love you. And I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.” He delivered the lines with such ease and fluidity that you stood frozen, staring into his big brown eyes, completing forgetting about the rest of the world.
“Y/N.” He mumbled, causing you to snap out of your trance.
“Right! My line!”
“Were you distracted?” Tom teased as you went to stop the camera.
“No, what makes you say that?”
“You just kind of zoned out staring at me. Does that mean I’m a good Darcy?” He asked and you playfully rolled your eyes.
“Let’s run it again.”
“Can you handle that?”
“I’m fine. I just forgot my line. That’s all.”
You ran through the scene a few more times and each time you were amazed by Tom. As you were packing up you camera, your stomach growled at you.
“Are you hungry? We can go get something to eat.” Tom asked, putting on his sunglasses, despite it being overcast.
“Sure. Where do you want to go?”
“I know this amazing taco place not too far from here.”
“Sounds good to me.” You shrugged, zipping up your camera bag. Tom took your hand, leading you through the park to the taco place, which turned out to be a taco truck.
“When you said amazing, I was thinking fancy restaurant.” You laughed, taking a bite of your taco.
“Is this not fancy?” Tom asked, accidentally slipping into his British accent.
“I still can’t believe you can speak with a good British accent.” You stated.
“I’ll have to take you there someday.”
“Take me where?”
“I can’t afford a spontaneous trip to England, Stan.”
“True, because you’ll be going there next year.”
“I haven’t gotten my acceptance letter yet. I’m starting to get worried.”
“If you don’t get in to UCL, that’s okay. You’ve got a handful of other brilliant colleges waiting for you.”
“I know, but UCL has always been my dream.”
“You’ll be fine. I believe in you.” He encouraged as your phone went off.
“Sorry, Stan, I have to go. My mom wants me home.” You stated, standing up to leave
“I’ll walk you home.” He replied, following your actions. Tom walked beside you the entire walk home as you two continued your chat.
“Well, this is me.” You said, “Thank you fro tonight, Stan. I had fun.”
“Me too.” He replied. You both awkwardly stood there for a moment, waiting for the other to make a move. You turned towards the door.
“I should go.”
“Wait.” He called out and you turned back around to him. “I really like you, Y/N.”
“I like you too, Stan.”
“No,” he said, getting closer to you, “I really like you.” He repeated, leaning in to kiss you.
“How was filming?” Your sister asked you when you walked in the door.
“It was great.” You smiled, “We got everything done.”
“Seems like something more happened.” She said.
“Nothing happened. What are you watching?” You asked, looking at the TV.
“Captain America: Civil War.”
“Is Thor in it?” You asked. You’re not one to be big on superheroes, but you did have a soft spot for the God of thunder.
“No, but Spiderman and Black Panther are in it.”
“I didn’t think Spiderman was an Avenger.”
“It’s a long story. He’s about to pop up, wanna watch?”
“For a few, but I’ve got chores.” You said, sitting beside her on the couch as she played it. “Queens” was shown in big, bold letters as a song began to play.
“How was school today?” A woman off-screen asked as the camera focused on the back of a teenage boy.
“Okay. This crazy car parked outside-” he cut himself short as he saw whatever was behind the camera. You didn’t care about the plot-you cared about the character.
“What?” Your sister asked.
“That’s Stan.” You said in disbelief.
“Stan? Stan who?”
“Stanley Osterfield. He’s new to my school and we’re partners for an English project.”
“That’s Tom Holland-not Stanley Osterfield.”
“They look the same and speak the same.” You pulled out your phone and searched up the unknown actor. “I don’t believe this.”
“They are literally the same person. He’s faking it. He’s British and he’s 20.”
“Hey, Y/N, look what came today?” Your mom said, showing you an envelope with the letters UCL in bold.
“It came!” You shrieked, discarding your phone to grab the letter. You opened it with shaking hands and began to read it.
“I got in! I got in! UCL accepted me!” You exclaimed eagerly.
“Hey, Y/N.” Tom said Monday morning when he stopped by your locker, following his routine. You stayed silent, deciding to ignore him.
“I heard you got into UCL. Congratulations, I knew you could do it.”
“Thanks.” You said flatly, slamming your locker shut and beginning to walk away.
“Did I do something wrong?” He asked, chasing after you. When you remained silent, he questioned you more, “Is this about Saturday?”
“What are you doing here?” You replied, halting and turning to him.
“What do you mean?”
“What are you doing here? At the Bronx School of Science and Engineering? You’re not looking for a career in science or engineering. You’ve already got a career, don’t you, Tom?”
“Y/N, I have no clue what you’re talking ab-”
“I don’t want to hear it. I know you’re not Stanley Osterfield and I know you’re not even American. You’ve been lying to me-all this time.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
“This far? You’re the one who kissed me the other night.” You were furious at ho he remained calm.
“I know. I’m really sorry, just please understand I never meant to hurt you. I wasn’t lying to you when I told you how I felt about you. My name and my accent was all I ever lied about. Please, believe me.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore. I need time. Please, St-Tom, just leave me alone for a little bit.”
“I will, but please just know two things: first, tomorrow, I am going back to London and my time here will be up; and second, I love you and, as cheesy as it is, I never wish to be parted from you. I’ll leave you alone now. Goodbye, Y/N.” Tom walked away in defeat as you stood there trying to compose yourself.
The next morning, you received a text message from an unknown number, reading: ‘Y/N, you don’t know me, but I am Harrison Osterfield and, as Tom’s best friend, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’ve known Tom for many years and he’s not one to easily fall in love, but, somehow, he fell in love with you quickly. His intentions were originally to witness a New York high school first hand; then that all changed with you, on the very first day. I just wanted you to know that Tom loves everything about you. Our flight to London leaves at 9, but below is our flat address here in New York, in case you wanted to say goodbye to him.’
You sat still for a minute, deciding if you wanted to go see him off or not. Looking over at your bedside table, you saw your UCL acceptance letter sitting on top of Pride and Prejudice.
“How are you holding up, Y/N?” Your mom asked, walking into your room.
“I don’t know what to do. For the first time in my life, I’m utterly clueless. I’m upset that he didn’t tell me the truth, but I think I love him, mom.”
“Elizabeth Bennet gave Mr. Darcy another chance. Maybe Tom is your Mr. Darcy.”
“His flight is leaving soon, but I’ve got school.” You told her.
“Quit making excuses and go. Go find your Darcy.” She said and you smiled, racing out of the house.
You arrived at the complex and breathlessly knocked on the door. After a moment, it opened to a surprised Tom.
“Y/N, what’re you doing here?” He asked.
“I came to stop my Darcy from leaving me.” You said, causing a silly smile to form on his face.
“If you’ll still accept me as your Elizabeth, that is.”
“Your affections and wishes have changed?”
“Very much so.” You said, taking his hands in yours, “You’re hands are cold.” He laughed in reply.
“Are you two going to continue being nerds or are you going to kiss?”
“I know.” You laughed, “And he’s right. We should kiss.”
“Yes we should.” Tom said, before giving you a kiss.
"I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE ANY MORE!" "I DON'T RECOGNIZE MY SELF!" That's in all caps because I see it as screamed. Can you do that for boyf friends sorry I'm so awkward and used to being able to hide behind anonymous but I've fallen in love with your writing lately. Only if you want to you don't have too
I FINALLY DID IT AH! So sorry it took me so long, I could go on about exams and all that shit but I’m sensing you will hopefully get the picture.
Regardless, thank you for the prompt/request!
It was a Saturday night and the boys were spending their time wisely - playing video games in Michael’s basement. They weren’t sure how long they had been in there but neither bothered to care.
Finally, after hours of waiting, Jeremy was released from hospital. After the eventful school day on Friday Michael had offered that Jeremy stay at his house that night to catch a break, and Jeremy whole
-heartedly agreed. As soon as they arrived home, Jeremy collapsed onto Michael’s bed and fell asleep, exhausted from all the questions he had received that day. Michael soon followed suit and before they knew it the two woke up at 3am on a Saturday morning.
Now, with nothing else to do, the boys were still playing video games. Eventually, the inevitable red with white text ‘GAME OVER’ flashed onto the screen, ending the particular match.
“Awe come on!” Michael complained, setting down the controller and flopping onto the beanbag behind him. Jeremy sat adjacent, frowning at the TV. “I thought we were finally gonna beat that one!”
“Y-Yeah…” Jeremy replied, still staring at the TV. After a few seconds passed, Michael sighed, hoisted himself upright and went to eject the disk from the console.
“Woah Michael, we were playing-”
“Not anymore,” he announced, returning the disk to its place on the shelf. “I wanna play something I know we can win.”
Before Jeremy could question him, Michael pushed an unknown disk into the slot and bounced back into his beanbag just in time to see the words ‘Apocalypse of the Damned’ appear on screen.
“Oh…” Said Jeremy in response.
“Come on dude,” Michael cheered, grabbing his controller off the floor and hitting play. “This one is no match for us.”
An hour later and Michael was seriously starting to worry about Jeremy. Not only had they not gotten past their usual warmup match but had been stuck in the same God damn area for 60 whole minutes. And Micheal knew something was up when Jeremy didn’t respond to his usual code words for 'Zombie, right behind you’ or 'Use the axe not the riffle for this one’ - the list went on. Eventually, he jammed down on the pause button and turned to face his best friend.
“Ok, what happened?” He demanded, snatching the controller from Jeremy’s hands.
“W-what?” Jeremy stuttered in response, completely oblivious to his best friend’s reasons for questioning.
“Something’s up, I can tell. You’re usually great at this game bro! Even better than me. But something’s off tonight.” Micheal shuffled closer and rest his head in his palms. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
Jeremy shifted awkwardly on the beanbag, trying not to meet Michael’s gaze.
“I..I-it’s nothing really I just-”
“It’s the Squip isn’t it,” Michael said, instantly recognising the type of hesitation he was being given. For the past few hours Michael had tried to ask Jeremy about the Squip but all that he received was the same 'it was nothing’ stammer each time.
Jeremy looked up, something shifting in his demeanour.
“I don’t want to play this anymore.” He stated, slowly and every words feeling like a drop of venom.
“W-what?” Michael said in response.
Jeremy locked eyes with Michael and arched his back so that he was sitting upright. He spoke even clearer.
“I don’t want to play this anymore”
“Yo Jeremy, dude, calm down.” Michael started, reaching out to his best friend. But Jeremy flinched backwards, slapping Michael’s fingers away.
“D-don’t touch me tall ass!” He cried, falling off of the beanbag and into the floor. Instantly he recognised the words that he had spoken, covering his mouth with his spare hand. But Michael had already heard them.
“W…what did you just call me?” He stammered, slowly rising from the beanbag. Jeremy climbed off of the floor to meet him, stuttering an attempted apology.
“I didn’t mean- that’s not what I - fuck - Michael I, that- that wasn’t-”
“T-Tall ass?!” Michael cried, stepping away from Jeremy. “What the hell dude?”
“No Michael I-”
“What happened to you?” He questioned, louder this time. “What has he done to you Jer? Was it worth it? Making you popular but turning you into… this?”
“Dude I don’t know who you are anymore-”
“I DON’T EVEN RECOGNISE MYSELF!” Came Jeremy’s answer. Michael flinched at the sudden increase in volume, eyes flying up to meet his best friend’s. Jeremy’s bright blue eyes soon began to fill with tears as he slumped against the wall.
“He’s gone Michael… but he won’t go away…” he muttered, head flying into to his hair. “Everything I do, I can still hear that voice in the back of my mind telling me what I’m doing wrong, mirroring his exact words. And I do it! I listen to it, because that’s what I’ve been programmed to do.”
“And you know what the worst part is Michael? That voice isn’t even real! It’s inside my head, because it’s my voice. It’s me telling all those things. I CAN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT MICHAEL! I-”
Jeremy was interrupted by the sudden feeling of arms wrapping around his waist and pulling his close into Michael’s chest. The boy hung on tightly, head hidden in the crook of Jeremy’s tear-stricken neck. Soon, his hands lowered from his hair to return the hug and the two slowly slid against the wall onto the floor.
No words were spoken between the two, just the action of each other being there was enough. The soft hum of the console filled the basement, the smell of candy and Mountain Dew carried through the air.
Eventually, Michael spoke, breaking the silence.
“I don’t care what he told you Jeremy, but you will always be my player two and nothing will change that ok? We’ll fight this, and we’ll come through stronger.” He tightened the hug between them. “I’ll always be here for you Jer.”
The tall boy smiled, returning the pressure of the embrace. He couldn’t help the shift in his smile as he spoke:
‘I’m not sure if you loved him right’ she mumbled, head down, hidden by long blond hair, secretly hoping I hadn’t heard her accusation. But I did.
'Why so?’ I asked, trying to keep myself from frowning, even though I felt irritated, just a little.
She turned her head towards me 'You loved him like he was the one, with the love you reserve for your knight in shining armour.’ Naivety was shimmering through in her clear blue eyes.
I smiled sadly 'That’s because he was the one, he was my knight in shining armour. It’s true that we didn’t last forever, but what I had with him was something you can only experience once in a lifetime. When with him it felt like the sun had just exploded above my head and the earth was falling out of the solar system into nothingness. But it felt right, damn it felt more right than everyday I had lived before him.
And though you may not think of him like a knight in shining armour, I think he was. But mine didn’t have a white horse or perfect manners. He smoked, drank, cursed, basically destroyed himself, but he made it seem okay because of the smile he gave me and the look in his eyes when he was with me.
Don’t ever tell me I loved him more than I should have, if anything I didn’t love him enough.’
The day you’d been forced to marry Ivar you’d been heart
broken. You adored your best friend, both you and Ivar knew that, it was a
source of many jealous attempts to get rid of your friend to no avail. He had insisted
on attending your friend’s wedding, practically dragging you there, demanding
to be at the front of the crowd all the way through the day.
You stood at the water’s edge, watching your friend say
goodbye to his wife, knowing Aslaug and Ivar was watching you somewhere out of
your gaze. Just as you went to hurry to your friend and say goodbye Ivar seated
himself next to you, glaring at the man.