#I swear I was only going to write a sentence then an essay came out

[kacievvbbbb]

The thing is that Dean and his abandonment issues wants Castiel to stay, despite the fuck ups and the blame and the anger, he needs him to stay as proof that he’s not toxic that he can have good things and not break them

But Castiel, and his guilt chose to leave because that is his penance. Why does he deserve to be happy when he has caused so much suffering? How can he look at Dean smile at him when he’s fucked up so much? He needs to leave because how could he be around Dean like he isn’t a living monument to all the ways his fuck ups hurt the ones he loves.

Cas wants to help the brothers, so he leaves. He’s caused them so much pain what right does he have to be around them, when he can be out there getting them information, finding things they need, helping fix their problems. This is his penance. Because no matter how hard he rebelled or how far he fell Castiel has an innate, almost primal need to be holy, to be absolved of his mistakes and sins. And he’s made so many mistakes where else can he find penance but in misery?

And in almost every episode Dean is in some way or form asking Castiel if he'll stay this time, and every-time Cas says no. And Dean can be mean, he’s s a deeply angry man, and so every no seems like proof that he’s pushed him to far that this is it this is when Cas says he's had enough. He's not gonna stay and be screamed or laughed at anymore. Dean’s finally succeeded in driving him away as he does anyone that’s ever given a damn about him. That this is proof of how toxic he is; after all Castiel is a creature with wings, all he wants to do is fly, and here Dean is trying to keep him in a cage.

The more Cas leaves on his own, the more Dean feels the need to give him a reason too.

The ways in which we punish ourselves; depriving ourselves of the ways in which we love.

The narrative’s doomed them from the start.

[threefuckencrowsinaleatherjacket]

The cool thing about being an artist is seeing art EVERYWHERE. Like until I started painting I never really noticed set design and outfits and all that fun stuff but now it’s the first thing I see which makes everything SO FUN AND COOL but that’s not the point of this post this is the intro paragraph motherfuckers. I’ve got you now keep going

So you know what’s an art form? WRITING (“obviously writing is an art form threefuckencrows. Make your point” IM GETTING THERE).

Some writing is more art than other writing. And I think the more I read books (for context, I read A TON when I was younger and barely touch books now—I’m really picky and it’s hard to find stuff I like) and find my taste the more I’ve found that the type of books I like just have pretty writing. Consider, for a moment, The Dreamer Trilogy by Maggie Stiefvater. I have never posted about this but it’s one of my all time favourite series’ and if you liked the raven boys oh boy. Oh boy oh boy. Anyways. The dreamer trilogy is a book series. This is an indisputable fact. It is also a work of art. Not in the metaphorical ‘it’s so amazing’ way, as in that is art just like any painting in a museum. Every word, every sentence is a brushstroke and a fucking masterclass in being good at telling a story. You can’t read that then read Harry styles x y/n on wattpad. You can’t. It’s not possible. So what’s the point here? The point is that. A good book may have a good plot, and good characters, and those are super important. But the writing should make you FEEL. Consider, also, vicious by VE schwab. I have made 1 post about this series and it was 30 minutes ago, so sorry for the total shift from the scheduled program but I promise we’ll be back on track soon (or maybe not. This is MY account after all and my brain works like a janky office computer in the early 2000s). The use of blackout poetry? The voices being so distinct and the symmetry of chapters paralleling each other?? I EAT THAT SHIT UPPP YALL

I obviously am not a writer. I can write a persuasive research essay for English class, or a really strange rambly tumblr post, but that’s not the writing I love. Here is a comprehensive list of Writing Is Art books that I love and hope someone else will tell me they also love so I feel like I’m not screaming to the Internet void:

1. The dreamer trilogy (as mentioned. Book 1 less than the other two but still all gorgeous)

2.Vicious, ve schwab. Currently 2 books but #3 is on its way!!!

3. The Kingdom of back, Marie Lu. Guys. When this came out I was WAITING for it to get the hype it deserved but I swear I’ve seen 1 fanart and no discourse. Where’s the insanity?? Plspls read it’s so iconic

These obviously aren’t the only books I like, but they’re the best examples of Art Books that I can think of in the middle of the night. If this is crazy lmk but if u get it EVEN MORE SO PLS LMK THANK YOU FOR READING THIS IS THE END CREDITS YOU ARE WAKING UP FROM THE SIMULATION GO GO GO

[good--merits-accumulated]

mini-oneshot; post Neil's death. the usual content warnings apply - depression + some pretty severely bad mental health + alcohol + injury + quite a bit of swearing.

For a long time afterwards he lay and did nothing. He lay until his bones fused with the sheets and Meeks started to look pale and then they came in and threatened him with suspension so he got up and went to class. But in his mind he was lying still, all the time. The others let him alone half out of pity and half out of fright, like a dog that should have been put down when it was a runt. He tried to care but could not care about caring. The new teacher set them an essay on iambic pentameter and instead of writing it he reproduced one of Rimbaud’s poems, the one that began Pitoyable frère! Que d'atroces veillées je lui dus… The essay came back unmarked with a hasty grade scribbled in the margin, and he thought, great. So I can’t even rebel right. Then what the hell did he do it for? At nights he would lie down and listen jealously to the sound of his own breathing, trying to breathe like someone else, and hating all the time the dark mound of blankets that was Cameron’s back in the corner of his vision. 

He lay down and he lay down and he lay down until one night he woke up and he was no longer lying down but climbing out of the window. It had stuck in the frame as he pulled it up but it was holding, and he shimmied his legs out over the narrow sill, avoiding the open bottle of schnapps on the desk, and thought perhaps there had been enough lying, perhaps he would try running. It must be nice to feel the ground beneath your feet, the steady jolt of your heart in your chest, no entrapment, no cage… his fingers spasmed on the sill and his legs kicked involuntarily, like the legs of men when they were sentenced to hang. He made himself stop thinking. And then after that all was an explosion; sound and noise and no light, no light still but the sharp clinical mortuary beam of the moon by the window. He could not touch it, he tried, and then it was gone again out of his sight and Cameron was kneeling over him on the floor of the room, looking furious. What the fuck did you do that for, he was saying, or maybe it was Why the fuck are you acting like this, or even, Why the fuck him and not you? He tried to say something pithy like I was hoping you’d tell me that, slick, but his mouth seemed to be missing somehow. The words came out of him but he kind of knew he had not said them. Cameron knelt there for a long time, his mouth twisting with a great and terrified fury. There was something shining on his face – tears, maybe… he looked closer and it was blood. He looked down at his hands and saw two deep gouges, running lengthways across his palms. Then the words came. Kind of like Jesus, huh? he said, holding his palms up in front of him. Behind Cameron the door opened and Pitts came in. Maybe he’ll come back.

Jesus Christ, said Cameron, you’re drunk. All around them the shards of the schnapps bottle lay like diamonds, glittering, like the water of the lake he could see from the window. He remembered now; he had been trying to get there. His arms ached to swim. Cameron got up and trembled and said, Could have killed yourself. The rest of it he forgot in the time that passed. 

It was some days later that Pitts slapped him round the face; he jolted, surprised, but with no pain. Pull yourself together, he said to him, do you think any of us like seeing you like this, you shit, don’t you dare go away like that. Pull yourself together. It was desperation and it was ugly desperation but even the ugly desperation was something and everything stopped blurring together if only for a second. The anger had drained away with the slap and Pitts said to him, Meeks is sleeping in your bed tonight. You can take his.

They had moved the stack of books on his desk to Meeks’ temporarily, only taking his favourites, and something very muffled inside him began to weep at the sight. Pitts sat him down on the bed which was newly made and shoved him not unkindly into a lying position and tucked the blanket under him on all sides so that he felt enfolded, and said, Sleep. I’m going to bed too.

Not even curfew, Todd said.

Who gives a shit about curfew, said Pitts, it’s some kind of social construct, it doesn’t mean anything. Sleep. You want me to read you a story?

When he woke up again the moon was stark bright and casting light in slabs through the window and the book in Pitts’ hands had slumped to the floor. He had gotten halfway through the Morte d’Arthur. There had been a lake in that, too… He got up and went soundlessly to the window, which did not squeak this time, and climbed out. 

His shoes he left neatly by the bank. When he came back to himself he was already in the water, and it was so lovingly cold he could have cried, and did. The reality of each of his senses came back to life. Cold and cold and cold. He stretched out an arm and the water held it, and a foot and the water held that too. Each spike of ice through his limbs felt sweet. He heard Neil’s voice and saw Neil’s face, saying, No, and he told him No too in return. He would have to take care of himself, now. But he twisted in the water and thought to himself that Pitts would be waiting for him, which was a beginning. 

He pulled himself out of the lake and gasped for long burning moments, heard by no-one, and understood with complete certainty that he was alone. He would always be alone now, in some sense, for the rest of his life. That space within him would be empty. He opened his mouth and said it loudly: “I do not think he is coming back.” There was a relief to the feel of the words in his mouth that made him retch and he started to cry as he retched, ungracefully, sprawled there by the cold and glittering water. 

He cried until the tears and the vomit stopped coming and then he put the heels of his palms on the ground and pushed himself up against them, ignoring the sting. There was a new great and hollow space inside him and a piercing cold clarity and he had left, it seemed, all of his confusion inside the water. He stood up feeling like he had just been born. Then he started walking.

[eibongrey]

Please talk to me about Joel and Tess I’ve been thinking about them all weekend

I don't even know if I have any coherent thoughts about them it's all just a wriggling mass of worms in here, screaming about their dynamic. (Update from after writing out the rest of this deranged essay: I did not mean for this to get so long and go off on so many tangents. I am insane. Thank you.)

I'm utterly obsessed with the way Tess is the one who calls the shots - just reblogged a post the other day about how Joel looks to her for decision-making, which mixed nicely in my brain with that quote from the podcast about Joel being "a little bit of a Frankenstein monster" that Tess is leading. This fermented in my brain with Joel's consistent characterization as someone who can't live for himself, only for someone else. As joking as it is, people are absolutely on the nose with the "acts of service being Joel's love language" posts. He doesn't know how to be a person unless he's orbiting another. (This also neatly parallels Ellie's greatest fear of ending up alone, but that's a whooooole nother essay.)

For a long time, Sarah was the axis around which he orbited, and that is why losing her led to a near suicide. Tommy managed to shift Joel's orbit around himself, to save his brother, which led to "all the things we did - the things you judge me for" from episode 6. This next bit is speculation, but I think it's fairly well supported by evidence from canon. I think that Tommy wasn't able to properly handle how Joel's trauma changed him, not okay with the level of violence Joel was willing to reach to keep Tommy safe, but utterly unable to lose the only family he had left.

(Continuing this Tommy tangent, sorry): he absolutely feels some level of responsibility for how fucked up Joel is now. If he had arrived just a little sooner, he could have saved Sarah, and Joel wouldn't be the way he is. Every time Joel does something morally reprehensible for Tommy's sake, Tommy thinks this is my fault. At least at first. They met Tess later, so there was no one else for Joel to orbit, so Tommy was the only option. And he was definitely there during and in the wake of Joel's suicide attempt, so he knows Joel cannot be alone. But the way they're surviving is fucking with him.

It's not until later, when Joel and Tess have become close enough for her to be Joel's new Person that Tommy can leave, which he does, of course he does, because seeing what's become of his brother makes him sick with guilt and anger. He couldn't leave until he knew for sure Joel had a Person to keep living for, but once that's a sure thing, he leaves. (There's another whole essay in here about Joel and Tommy being foils, where Joel must be devoted to a single person and Tommy must be devoted to some greater cause, but I've digressed enough. You came here for Joel and Tess. Sorry. I swear these thoughts are all related.) Back to Joel. Everything about him screams "experienced parentification as a child" and I know I'm still in speculation land but come on. He's several years older than Tommy and he became a father at a young age, and it's implied that he was a single father from pretty early on in Sarah's life (moreso in the game, but there's no indication they changed that for the show). Joel and Tommy's parents are never so much as mentioned.

Adults who were parentified as children have a hard time expressing and meeting their own needs, particularly emotionally, and have a hard time turning off their "caregiver" mode. Just for fun, I ran a quick search about parentification to refresh my memory, and I'd like to share a few sentences that made me insane: "A parentified child does not learn to distinguish their own needs and feelings from those of other people." Here's another: "In certain cases, some degree of parentification may have positive effects, such as building resilience and competency."

Who does that sound like? Joel "you were never gonna do it for yourself" Miller, that's fucking who. (For added derangement, rewatch the breakfast scene in episode 1, starting around 6:50 when Tommy comes through the door. "Awww, he loves you." "He's dependent on me. It's not the same." But I digress. Again.) ANYWAY: Enter Tess. Tess is fucking smart and ruthless about survival, Tess shares Joel's deep trauma of losing a child, and Tess doesn't have Tommy's angst about how Joel has changed from Before. She's exactly someone whose psychological profile can mesh well with post-Outbreak Joel's. She's resourceful and great at social engineering, and she quickly picks up on how Joel's mind operates. As the audience, we never get to actually see or hear how they met and grew close, but given how they are as people, I think it's likely that Tess initially saw Joel as a resource to use, then figured out more about him, and grew to actually give a shit - until she ended up giving a lot of shits. Too many, maybe.

She definitely knows she has power in their dynamic, that she can make the decisions and Joel will follow her lead, that Joel cares about her. The scene in their apartment kitchen where he sees her swollen eye and she already knows he's going to react the way he does, has her first sentence prepared so he'll sit back down. The casual way she allows him to tilt her head and pat at her face with the cloth? She knows his need to caretake, and she allows him a few moments to meet it, and then she gently redirects him and breaks the bad news about the battery to him.

She handles him emotionally like a fucking master pianist at the keys. (Follow along at about 53:25 in episode 1 if this next bit makes no fucking sense.) She starts gentle, reassuring, telling him "nothing's lost" after dropping the fact that Robert sold the battery. She matches Joel's energy when he stands, upset, saying "okay, fuck it, we get our money back and the battery" so he doesn't feel like she's being condescending or too calm about something that's a big deal to him. She approaches, makes physical contact with her hand to get him to meet her eyes, and lays out the logic - the goal is not out of reach, but will be unless Joel listens to her. And then she says "I need you to take a breath" and there's a quiet moment where you can see her exaggerating a breath for Joel to follow. (I think this is where I became unrecoverable, by the way, if it wasn't already back where Joel rolls over at her hand on his back to be her little spoon.) Notice the energy level in the room after that breath? They both continue speaking in lower, calmer voices. Even when Joel says "Well who'd he sell it to?" his tone is irritated without being loud and abrasive.

And then my favorite thing ever. "Now I promised Robert you wouldn't hurt him. But I would very much like for you to hurt him." Because Tess knows that she is Joel's Person, and what things Joel will do for his Person. She knows because she saw it back when it was Tommy. And Tess has no problem weaponizing Joel, unlike Tommy, who'd been driven away by that very thing.

The saddest part, to me personally, is that while Tess was able to understand that she was Joel's Person, she didn't let herself believe that meant love. Not the way she wanted it to. She figured that he had to revolve around someone, psychologically, but that didn't mean he had to love them. And Joel couldn't ever say it to her, because he loses everyone he loves. It's even more obvious with Ellie, later, when he so clearly loves her as a daughter and just cannot say it in such plain words. He loved Sarah, and she died in his arms, and he loved Tommy, and Tommy left him behind. So there's no way Joel was ever going to be able to be clear with Tess that he loved her, even though he so clearly did. Especially since Tess died before Ellie's presence in Joel's life started to heal the wound - "it wasn't time that did it."

God. I have no idea if any of this makes sense, I just had a million thoughts and feelings and went off on several tangents, but I've finally run somewhat out of steam and I did, in fact, talk about Joel and Tess like you asked. So I'm gonna call it a success.

Anyway, how was your weekend?

[odyssick]

holy shit i didn’t realize how much i wrote here, uhm. haha? also i don’t know how to write angst

i apologize for any typos or grammatical errors!

content warning : swearing, very slight angst

———

Regulus rubbed his eye for the hundredth time tonight, squinting at his essay as he moved his wand’s light closer to it. Before he could finish re-reading the last sentence, a whine came from his right, followed by something wet touching his cheek.

“Snuffles, don’t, that’s disgusting,” Regulus pulled away from the big, slobbery dog, his nose scrunching up from the saliva on his cheek. Snuffles whined again, but placed his head back on Regulus’ leg as he wiped his cheek.

“You and my brother would get along well,” Regulus spared a quick glance at Snuffles, his expression full of disgust, but the quirk of his lips gave away his fondness for him. Snuffles yapped cheerfully, as if he knew who Regulus was talking about.

They shared a few more minutes in silence, with Regulus’ occasional comments on his essay and Snuffles’ barks being the only noise present on the Astronomy Tower.

Regulus stifled a yawn, a hand covering his mouth. “Pretty sure this is a good enough essay for Professor Slughorn - barely reaches the required length but I’m quite certain he’ll give me full marks because of the research I put into this.”

Snuffles barked into his ear, gently pushing Regulus’ arm with his nose. He rolled up his essay, laughing as he did so, and scratched the top of Snuffles’ head when he was done.

“It’s not my fault Slughorn’s got favourites,” Regulus shrugged, a lazy smile appearing on his face for a second when Snuffles yapped again, who was now lying down on the floor, face-up, with Regulus scratching his fur. He paused for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing and lips pressing into a thin line, like he was solving a problem.

“I wonder who your owner is. You’re too well-groomed for a stray. Too energetic though-”

Suddenly, the door to the Astronomy Tower creaked open, and Regulus was pointing his wand at the door at a moment’s notice, his shoulders tense and eyes alert, no sign of the boy who was, seconds ago, playing with the dog he didn’t even know the owner of.

“Reg? Just me,” James’ voice came from the dark doorway, stepping closer into the light of Regulus’ wand. He let go of the tension in his body, stuffing wand back into his pocket.

James approached him cautiously, the dog behind him, whose ears were perked up in surprise, going unnoticed. When they were about a foot apart, James held his arms out to Regulus, who glady melted into his embrace. The dog was now tilting his head the unusual scene.

“Just wanted to check up on how you were doing,” James quietly muttered into the crook of Regulus’ neck his hands reaching up to touch his soft curls. Regulus nodded, placing a gentle kiss right below James’ ear. “And I’d really love to stay, but a few of my mates are probably waiting for me to come back from the kitchens right now.”

Regulus hummed in acknowledgement, keeping them together for a few seconds before pulling away. He grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers together, the tips of his lips curling very slightly. “Little rulebreaker, aren’t you, wandering around the corridors in the middle of the night.”

James gave a cheeky grin, pulling him back into a hug when a loud growl made them jump apart.

The dog was staring at James, his growl becoming quieter at Regulus’ request, but still loud enough for them to hear clearly. James gaped at the dog, as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing, before he quickly turned to Regulus, a nervous smile on his face.

“I think that’s my cue, Reggie. I’ll see you tomorrow night, love you!” he spoke quickly, speedwalking away from the dog, and the door was shut before Regulus had the chance to stop him.

He tilted his head at the door, a curious expression lingering upon his face. “That’s… weird,” he turned back to the dog, “Sorry, Snuffles, I think you scared him.”

The next day, James woke up abruptly from his sleep in the Boys’ Dormitory, only registering half of what was happening before Sirius started shaking him around (quite agressively, mind you), spewing incoherent words out of his mouth.

“. . . fuck were you doing with my brother, last night?! Outrageous, Prongs! A fucking scandal, hanging around him behind MY FUCKING BACK! How dare you even think to step even three feet near my LITTLE BROTHER, YOU-”

“Padfoot, stop - I just woke up,” James managed to shout at him in a hoarse voice. The room went silent, and before he knew it, he was promptly thrown back on his bed.

Sirius Black was standing in front of him, arms crossed with the one of the most infuriated look James had ever seen, bested only by the expression he had when Snape attacked him.

James pressed his mouth into a thin line, taking the time to compose himself. Deep breaths, he told himself, as he prepared for his possible death.

“I’m sorry that I-”

“Sorry for what, exactly?” Sirius snapped at him. “For getting together with my fucking brother, or for hiding it from me?”

Remus, who was, until now, just watching the chaos unfold in amusement, stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, which had seemed to calm him down.

“Both,” he took the silence as a chance to speak. “I’m sorry for talking to your brother - I mean, no, I’m not sorry for that - fuck, I meant. Uhm. I’m sorry for keeping it a secret-”

“Are you?” Sirius glared at him, his voice surprisingly on a polite tone, but James wasn’t going to complain.

James gulped, nodding slowly. Now or never, James, now or never, he repeated to himself. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about us. About me and Regulus. It wasn’t right of me. But I’m not sorry for being with him.”

He took another deep breath, appreciating that Sirius was listening right now. “I know I was putting our friendship at risk when I started talking to him, Pads, but Regulus- he makes me happy. You want to us happy, right?”

“Don’t use that on me.” He said indifferently, turning his gaze away.

“That wasn’t my intention,” James shook his head, slowly rising from his bed and slowly walked towards him, who was now watching him like a hawk, and hesitantly placed his hands on his shoulders.

“I know you probably don’t approve of this whole thing with me and Reggi- Regulus, but I love him, Pads. He makes me feel happy, like I’m floating, and I really hope I do the same for him, which sounds like a really cheesy line, but what can I do?” James looked into his best mate’s eyes, which were flitting all over his face, looking for a hind of anythhing untruthful. He stopped after a few minutes, finally looking right at his eyes.

“You call him Reggie?

James’ eyes widened, taken-aback at his question. He wasn’t expecting him to be so nonchalant about it - this was really confusing James. He nodded slightly, unsure what to do.

Finally, Sirius sighed deeply, pulling James into a tight hug. “Listen, mate, I don’t care if you like him or not, you can shag him for all I care - just find someone else to share the details with - because I’m fine with that. What hurt me, is that you didn’t think you could tell me.

James hugged him tighter, tiny droplets of tears gathering at the tips of his eyes. “I know, Pads. I’m sorry for hiding it from you, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

His voice wavered a little, pushing them both over, and in a matter of seconds, they were both crying on each others’ shoulders, gently rubbing the others’ back.

“Stop crying, you wanker! You’re make me cry too.”

“It’s not my fault! You started crying first, you prick.”

BONUS SCENE:

Lily, Marlene and Mary had heard yelling in the Boys’ Dormitory early in the morning, one of the voices they recognized to be Sirius.

“. . . you hugged him for five minutes, Prongs, what the fuck was that? And he fucking kissed you, and you were standing there just- WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“You reckon we should stop him?” Marlene asked, twirling Dorcas’ curls around her fingers, watching her with a gaze so warm, it could melt the coldest ice.

“Nah, I wanna hear what’s happening.” Mary replied, her eyes shining with mischief.

“About time Potter told him, honestly,” Lily yawned, pulling Mary back to bed. “The whole castle has probably seen those two hiding in a cupboard at least once.”

“You sound jealous, darling.”

Perhaps I'm just uncultured, but why has no one ever done Sirius finding out about jegulus because he's been sneaking visits with Reg as Padfoot?? Like Sirius is just laying there in animagus form with his head on Reg's lap while he does his homework, and Reg has no idea, and James is sneaking over to say hi and ask if they're still on for tonight, and he and Padfoot just lock eyes

[allthatyoulove]

In A Sky Full of Stars

Andrew Garfield’s!Peter Parker/Reader (use of ”pretty girl”)

Summary: Dating Spider-man has never been easy. Especially not when he stumbles through your window in the middle of the night, bleeding and bruised.

Warnings: EXPLICIT SITUATIONS!/ light smut warning!- read at your own discretion. descriptions of injuries, blood, cussing

Words: 3.6k

A/N: Love me some Mr. Garfield ;) Had this one sitting in my drafts for a while. Also- first time writing somewhat-smut! Hoping to get better with practice. Please check out my ~prompt list~ Hope you enjoy the story, feel free to leave any feedback and please let me know of any warnings or errors I missed, thanks for stopping by :)

~NOT PROOFREAD/EDITED- ALL MISTAKES ARE MY OWN.~

~~~

The first sentence is always the worst.

I spun around on my chair, groaning at the ceiling. I faced my computer again, looking at the blank document. I had absolutely no clue on how to start this essay. My fingers tapped against the desk anxiously as I tried to focus. A breeze blew through the window, making my curtains slowly wave with the wind. It was getting dark and cold outside, but I didn’t want to close it- I almost never did anymore, out of habit. Subconsciously, my eyes drifted to my phone sitting off to the side. I looked back at my computer. He said he would text me when he got home. I have an essay to do.

My eyes went to my phone again. I audibly groaned, putting my head in my hands. I didn’t know how to start my essay, and I couldn’t focus with Peter on such a big mission.It sounded like a big mission from what I heard when he called me hours prior, anyway.

“Hey Peter what’s-”

“So so sorry, I can’t talk for long. I wanted to call and let you know I can’t make it tonight for date night. I’m so, so sorry. Something-” He took a breath, wind blowing into the speakers of the phone as I heard the sound of his web shooters. He inhaled before continuing.

“Something came up. A really big reptile-alien-bad-guy thing popped up and is freaking people out, I have to take care of it. I swear I will make it up to you and-”

“Peter.”

“-I’ll text you as soon as I get home. I’ve wanted this date to happen for so long-”

“Peter.”

“-and I’ll make it up to you. I swear it.”

I stayed quiet for a moment, waiting as I heard him catch his breath. He inhaled deeply as I continued to hear him flying through New York.

“You done?” I asked, raising my eyebrows even though he couldn’t see me.

“Not yet. I’m so sorry.

...now I’m done.”

I laughed at him, shaking my head.

“It’s completely fine. You have a city to look after. Please be safe. And text me as soon as you get home, okay?”

“I’ll- when I- not worried- little lizard. It’ll be- home soon.” The connection started to break up, his sentences cutting in half as I tried to listen to what fragments I could understand.

“Peter? Peter, you’re breaking up.”

“I’ll make it- soon as I- get home.”

“Text me as soon as you get home. Please be safe.” I said, praying he could hear me through the bad connection.

“-be safe. Love you.”

The call disconnected.

I winced as pain shot through my finger, snapping me out of my thoughts. I sat up, snapping out of my recollection of earlier in the day as I looked at my finger. A wooden piece of the desk had broken off, going straight into the tip of my finger. Blood started to flow out of it and drip onto the desk.

“Shit shit shit,” I said, grabbing my phone and running to the bathroom to wash it off. I opened the cabinet, grabbing a small band aid as I ran the wound under the water. It stung, but my mind was too occupied elsewhere to really dwell on it. I stood there, watching the water wash the blood away as my mind went back to it’s sole subject of the day- Peter.

He had said he loved me before he hung up. We’d been dating for only a couple months now, and that was the first time he’d ever said it. My mind was balanced between focusing on Peter saying he loved me and being worried for his safety. While my heart fluttered every time I thought of the call, it also worried with concern for how he was doing. I really really liked him. So much that sometimes it scared me. I had to know if he said it by accident- by routine, or if he really meant it. And if he meant it, I had something to tell him too.

I was getting increasingly worried. He usually gets his little missions done in a couple hours. The call took place this morning, and now the sun had just finished setting outside. I picked my head up, looking at myself in the mirror. I reassured myself in my head.

He’ll be fine. He said he’d text me when he got home- maybe he just forgot. Maybe he’s asleep in his bed right now, perfectly fine.

I watched my brows furrow in the mirror as I tried to convince myself.

Maybe a shower would help.

—

I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself as I wiped the condensation from the mirror. I started to brush my teeth in the mirror before my mind ultimately drifted. I picked my phone up from the counter with my unoccupied hand, unlocking it.

Still no text from Peter.

I even checked every social media, every platform that we’ve chatted through. Just in case. Still nothing. I sighed, placing it back down. There was not much I could do from my bedroom. Even if he was in trouble.

I once again attempted to avert my attention, clearing my mind completely. I would wait. I could be patient. For him, I would wait.

I finished brushing my teeth, rinsing my mouth and looking at my finger. The bleeding had come to a slow and gradual stop, but the injury was open and an angry red. I wrapped the band aid around my finger. The pain became more noticeable as my head cleared. The splinter was much bigger than I thought, and hurt much worse coming out. I shrugged as I looked at the band aid placement. It would be okay for now.

The bathroom was still foggy with steam from the shower as I opened the door. The sun must have set even more, leaving my room even darker than before. I turned off the bathroom light, which left me completely in the dark. I walked over to my bedside lamp, turning it on so I could find my way to my dresser. The yellow lamp took a few clicks before it turned on.

I sighed as I stood there for a moment. Today had been a stressful day, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be getting any sleep tonight. If I can barely keep my mind off of any specific topic for longer than a couple minutes, there was no way I could lay in bed, in the dark, in silence, and be perfectly fine.

I tried to stand there and think of every possibility. Everything I could do. I won’t be going to sleep any time soon, so what could I do that could calm my nerves?

I could… go to his house.

That way, if he was sleeping, I would know and be able to come back home with a clear head. If he wasn’t home, I could wait there until he eventually made it home or even scour the internet for news of a reptile-alien-bad-guy thing, and go offer my help?

It was a good enough solution for me. I was getting restless, and hated waiting around and not doing anything helpful. If I couldn’t think of a first line for an essay, I could help my boyfriend fight a lizard to save New York. Right?

Before I could reach for my dresser underneath my lamp, I was brought out of thought by the sound of a voice from the shadows.

“Something on your mind?”

I jumped back, my hand shooting to my mouth as I let out a short scream in fear. I turned around to the source of the noise.

Peter was sitting on my windowsill, his back resting on the closed window.

I instantly let out a breath, putting my hand to my chest and closing my eyes.

“You scared the shit out of me.” I breathed, shaking my head. I opened my eyes to look at him.

He was laughing, fully dressed in his spiderman suit- save for his mask. His hair was messy, his face a little dirty. He had his backpack on and was carrying his mask with one hand, the other draped around his waist.

He moved his legs to the inside of my room, jumping down onto the floor. He almost sagged to the ground, using an arm to hold himself up on my office chair. He winced as he tried to remain on his feet.

I instantly started towards him, my face twisting with concern and confusion.

“Oh my god, Peter? Are you okay?” I asked, my hands going to his waist to help hold him up.

“You should see the other guy,” He groaned out, falling forwards and into my chair sitting next to the window. I sat down on the floor next to the chair, my eyes scanning from his neck down to his waist. There were three huge slashes across his chest, bleeding through his spiderman suit. My heart raced as I looked at him with concern. “By the way- not a little lizard. Huge, gigantic lizard-”

“Okay, okay- huge lizard, got it. I need your help, okay? I need you to take off your suit.” I said, trying not to panic. He just gave me a huge smirk, his eyebrows raised. I stared at him, waiting. He continued to smirk at me in silence for a moment before messing with it, pulling it to his head. It got stuck on his head, him flailing his arms around for help. I laughed and helped pull it up the rest of the way, his head popping out of the material. His suit rested below his stomach, the material scrunched up together. He had a huge smile on his face, despite the nasty cuts across his chest.

I met his smile before my eyes fell down to his chest, seeing jagged scars. They went from his right shoulder down to his stomach. My mouth parted in shock. The cuts were still bleeding, blood smeared around the entirety of his chest. He seemed unfazed by them, staring at me and gauging my reaction.

“Peter…” I whispered, shaking my head. My eyes teared up. He looked at me with sympathy, his eyes reflecting the light of my lamp.

“I’m fine, really. I promise.” He said, bringing his hand up to put my hair behind my ear. “It looks worse than it feels.”

He brought his hand down the side of my face and rubbed his thumb along my cheek in comfort. Even though I should be the one comforting him. I nodded against his hand, looking down at the wound again. I blinked away my tears before talking again.

“I’ll get you a towel.” I whispered, smiling at him and standing up. His eyes filled with a mischievous look as he smirked again, looking me up and down and biting his lip softly. His hand came out from the side, going to the bottom of the towel I had forgotten I was in. He gently pulled on it, not enough to move it but just enough to get my attention.

“I could… use this one?” He asked, his eyebrows raising in suggestion as he started to sit up on the couch. His face twisted in pain with the movement. One hand went to hold my towel in place, the other going to push him back down onto the couch.

“Easy, bugboy.” I said, walking away and towards the bathroom. I bit my lip, my face hot and my thighs subtly clenching together.

“What’d you call me?” I heard him say after me, laughing.

I grabbed some of Peter’s pajamas that he had left behind before, taking them into the bathroom with me- a dark blue shirt and a pair of my gray shorts. I closed the door and changed quickly, running a couple washcloths under water and grabbing a small first aid kit.

“We’ll have to make do with what I got.” I shrugged, walking back into the room. He was laying on the floor now, his back against the foot of my bed. His head leaned against the wood, his arms limp at his sides. He turned and looked at me, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed and followed me with his eyes. I ignored his stare, walking over to the other side of him and settling down on the ground next to him. I dropped everything but the washcloth, situating myself so I was close enough to him. He looked directly at me, a lovestruck expression on his face. My face heated under his stare, my stomach fluttering.

I brought the washcloth up to his chest, rubbing the blood off of his skin. He groaned in pain, his head leaning farther into the bed, looking at the ceiling.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” I cringed as he tensed up with each movement. One arm grabbed onto the wood of the bed frame, hanging on for dear life. The other dangled loosely at his side on the ground. After getting the blood surrounding the wounds, I brought up the second washcloth to the actual gashes across his chest. He brought his head back down, staring at his chest and waiting for the contact. His entire body was tense.

I decided to get it over with, applying the cloth to the cut and starting to clean it. He winced and groaned in pain, his hand that was lying on the floor grabbing onto my waist in comfort. My face heated, my eyes looking into his with sympathy. He was still looking down at the cut, watching me clean it again and again.

“Hey, what’s this?” He asked, picking up my hand and examining my finger. I’d forgotten about the cut.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just got distracted earlier.” I shrugged. 

“You should really be more careful.” He said, looking into my eyes as he brought the finger up to his mouth, kissing the bandage.

“Funny.” I deadpanned, continuing to clean the huge cuts he got from fighting a mutant lizard.

I continued to move the cloth against his wound, Peter letting out a particularly loud moan of pain. His hand squeezed my waist, bringing me closer to him. His mouth was parted and he was panting, looking back at his chest. I looked from his lips to his eyes to his hair, in awe of him. My thighs clenched together at the sounds he was making. The cuts were clean, though I felt an urge to keep cleaning it just to hear him again.

He finally looked up, catching his breath. His face was only inches from mine. My breath hitched as his eyes met mine, and I smiled at him. His eyes glanced from my eyes to my lips. I looked at his lips, then looking into his eyes that were searching mine.

He started to sit up, looking into my eyes for any signs of hesitation or doubt. My breath hitched in anticipation, my gaze darting between his lips and his eyes. He sat up closer and closer to me, taking his time. He tilted his head, his lips just barely touching mine.

I followed him, my eyes on the edge of closing. He brought the hand that was holding onto the bed over to rest on the bottom of my face and neck, his thumb rubbing my cheek lightly before pulling me into him. His head dipped down to catch my lips in his, pulling me against him so our lips molded together. He pulled away to look at me, his eyes scanning my face. I breathed heavily, looking at his lips only. The hand that wasn’t on my face was being used to brace himself against the floor. He sat up straighter, using that hand to grab my waist and pull me onto him. His hand stayed on the back of my neck, gripping lightly.

“You look so good in my clothes.” He whispered, bringing both of his hands to my face now to hold me. He looked at me with desire, with need. I sat down fully on his lap, feeling him hard beneath me. I let out a broken breath and put my head against his.

He pulled me into him again, tilting his head to pick mine up into the kiss. His tongue swiped against my bottom lip, to which I opened my mouth wider. He licked into my mouth, our tongues entwining together as the kiss got more passionate.

I started to grind down on him, earning a whiny moan from him. He kissed me even more aggressively, sitting up even straighter as his hands went down to the hem of his shirt that I was wearing. They stayed there for a second, continuing to kiss me.

“Take it off.” I whispered, pulling away to rest my head against his. He panted, catching his breath and nodding with extreme enthusiasm as he pulled the shirt over my head. I looked at him, watching him look at me with awe.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. I grabbed his face, kissing him once, twice, three times before he pulled me away gently. He held my face with one hand, his other pushing me down onto him by my waist, encouraging me to grind on him. His mouth went to my neck, licking and sucking hickeys everywhere he could reach. I moaned, riding him through his clothes. He was achingly hard beneath me, the thin materials of our clothes the only barrier between us. He moaned against my neck with every movement, my hands going to his shoulders for support.

“Use me,” he groaned into my neck, pulling his mouth away from my neck. He pulled me in by the back of my neck to look at him as I continued to grind against him. “I need you to use me. I want you to. Please. Get yourself off like this, can you do that for me?”

I nodded, looking at him with dazed eyes. His lips were swollen, his hair messy. He looked all over- at my face, at my lips, my neck, my chest, down to where I was grinding on him, chasing the high I could feel starting to stir in the bottom of my stomach.

“I need you to say it. Say- say you want to cum like this.” He groaned, one hand going to the back of my head. His hand threaded through my hair, grabbing it and pulling it back to reveal my neck to him. I moaned, closing my eyes.

“I want it, I want to cum. I want to use you like this, please.” I moaned out, my hands going to pull on his hair. His mouth attached itself to my neck once again, moaning with me.

“God, yes. Please. You feel so good.”

He took his hand out of my hair, going to wrap around my back- pulling me down onto him as he started to thrust upwards. He pulled me down in time with his thrusts, pulling away to look at me as he moaned. His eyebrows furrowed, his lips looking at my own. We looked at eachother, our faces contorted in pleasure as we chased our finish. I pulled his hair harder, pulling his head backwards as I leaned forward and kissed him. It was sloppy as our tongues explored each other's mouths, his hands roaming all over my back.

“Fuck- I’m almost there, keep going”

His thrusts started to get sloppy, his tongue slowing as he got closer. His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes squeezed shut, focusing on that fast coming feeling. I pulled away from him, a string of saliva connecting our mouths as I watched him. He wrapped his arms around me tightly.

“Shit. Don’t stop baby, don’t stop, please- don’t stop.” He frantically moaned out, panting. I continued to ride him, watching his eyebrows raise in pleasure and his mouth drop open.

“Please, please, please, please,” He moaned loudly, begging as his body shuddered. He rolled his hips up, grinding up into mine. I moaned softly, bringing his lips back onto mine. I kissed him gently, slowing down but continuing to grind on him. I was so close. He was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath but still softly gasping from the contact.

“I need you to cum. Cum for me, please. I want you to cum.” He whispered, moving the hair from my face and staring at me. I nodded, looking at him as he encouraged me. I picked up my pace, so close to finishing.

“There we go. You’re doing so good.” He moaned, starting to thrust against me again. “You can cum for me, can’t you?”

I nodded immediately, closing my eyes.

“Let me hear your voice, pretty girl.” He whispered, gathering my hair into one hand to kiss the base of my neck.

“I’m almost there. I wanna cum for you, please- I wanna-” I moaned, feeling an orgasm fast approaching. I closed my eyes, my thighs starting to shake as I tried to keep my pace. He moaned with me, his lidded eyes looking into my own.

“Cum for me baby” He whispered, kissing from my neck up to the side of my face. I moaned loudly, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him into me.

My thighs shake as I finish, holding him against me as the orgasm hits me. The euphoric feeling washed over my body as his leg bounced underneath me, adding friction. I could feel him kissing my neck, my shoulders, everywhere he could reach as I slowly came back down from my high.

“Thank you” He whispered into my hair, panting.

“Did you-?”

“Twice.” He grunted out, shifting underneath me. I breathed out a laugh, my head dropping to his shoulder. His hands ran up and down my back soothingly. I pulled away, smiling as I stared at him.

His eyes were barely open, smiling at me with swollen lips and even messier hair. I moved the hair that had gotten into his face, sticking to the sweat that formed at his hairline. I kissed his forehead, going down to his lips. He brought a hand up to tuck my hair behind my ears, looking at me with so much love it was almost overwhelming. My stomach fluttered and my heart pounded in my chest. He leaned into me, his lips touching mine.

“Oh, and Peter?”

“Yes?” He breathed against me, waiting.

“I love you too.”

[prctty-birdie]

Happy Halloween!🎃✨

May you meet Death today?

Made for the one and only @toguchindraws , hope you like it!

(got a bit carried while writing and finished doing three whole different versions about your prompt; also got a bit too long, I guess? Sorry for any mistakes; I tried my best to make sure everything is right and make sense, since it`s been a while I`ve wrote something other than essays in english.)

Part of the 2022 Hellcheer Gift Exchange, hosted by @helloween-gift-exchange

Tags: Scared mortal, Otherworldly chauffeur, No Vecna, The Mummy(1991) elements used, AU where death have diferent servants to take souls into the afterlifes, Egyptian Mythology, Eddie is Anubis, Chrissy can see the other side, sheningans ensue, Mentioned Abusive family, Chrissy make a new crazy AND powerful friend, Jason is going to places.

“When darkness falls across the land, the world turns upside down, in a mysterious lullaby;where death, his angels and other devils are all wandering out here  just waiting for lost souls.....”

Christine "Chrissy" Cunningham or as her boyfriend Jason calls, "Chris" always has some kind of "other side" problems. She could see when a kind of shadow with no actual form, started following people and when this happened; a few days or even a month later (just once, the most long and successful witnessed by her) the said person would die.

She started seeing them after her grandfather, by mom's side, passed away.

At just the age of eight years old, remembers vividly how in peace he looked, when he closed his eyes and the shadow came out by the wall on the side of his bed at the hospital; just stretched his hand in the direction of his body and a second later with a blink, disappeared and the machinery started beeping.

The following days passed like a blur, she remembers telling her mother about this and she didn't care; probably thinking this was just her daughter`s imagination and when her grandpa's funeral happened she saw more of these shadows gluing themselves into the adults steps. Gradually, she started seeing them more often to a point where predicting bad things happening around became easy as breathing.

When turned fifteen, she noticed there were some kind of dogs or wolves as they seemed to look, with various sizes just as big as cars and little as sheeps, with dark red glowing eyes. They could see her staring and usually would just sniff at the direction she was walking by , but never exactly bothered to come close or chase….

1986

Well, this was her year of graduation and everything was running smoothly - thank you very much - except today, for three single-headed and weird facts:

Waking up to a crow screeching in her window, he had red scarlet eyes and let out a scream before flying to somewhere;

Missing the bus to school;

Suddenly and without a thought accepting a ride from this dude who could be a psycho killer by the looks and his expensive car (a damn Chevy Bel Air 1955 Black and Chrome, that she only knew because of mr. Richard Harrington; who lives ten blocks away driving one around when he's on town)

Well, maybe this was supposed to be her bad day; the Universe surely loves her to make this happen! anyway, she trailed off in thought until hearing the dude at the driver wheel (to whom she didn't trade a single word with since entered the car, could swear was some kind of vampire by the pale-white skin tone and didn't even introduced herself) started speaking in this low and bewitching voice.

- Miss Christine Cunningham, what a beautiful day; don`t you agree?- his voice sounded kinda emotionless while eyeing her with a knowing smirk- guess I wasn't supposed to be here to take you. - Chrissy`s head started ringing a bell at this sentence and she almost broke her neck, turning her head too fast to look at him entirely - But my curiosity just took the best of me, I guess…

At this moment he stopped in front of the school and looking through the window, there was no living soul walking around with also a weird mist, blocking some spaces of the outside view. Which was surely weird because she saw the bus passing by and right that her house is the last stop, before the bus goes directly to school and the mist was just weird; surely there weren't any drop in temperature and the sun was shining very bright today when leaving home.

Okayyyyyy…. 

Maybe this was her year of death and not the perfect-graduation-before-marrying-her-high school-sweetheart, but at least was going to be happy very far from her abusive mother and ignorant/absent father kind of freedom. Except for the fact she traced her brother's fate and will let him suffer the same twisted shit as her. It's too late to regret now, she can only pray that some other biggest force helps him.

The man started laughing (this cute half sweet and funny, kind of) and she may have or may not hold her breath; while lost in thoughts waiting for him to recompose himself after getting out of her own head.

- I'm sorry - he says with a shining and charming smile,before turning to look at her (maybe she went crazy today, but his eyes were a red scarlet like the dogs but with a gleam of knowledge like the crow at her window this morning, at least for a second seemed). With a blink his eyes were this chocolate brown, but the gleam stood there, he seemed to devour every detail of her avidly. He just offered his hand to her and when she went for a handshake, he took her hand making the way to his lips and leaving a little kiss at the back - I`m sorry - he seems to say this word way too much - my lady; but how impolite of me, to not present myself correctly to such a sweet woman as you! - he still held her hand, but the compliments and too formal way of speaking made her heart beat faster, with a little bit of red showing on her cheeks.

 - I am Anubis, guardian of the underworld and one of death's angels…

 - WHAT?!?- Chrissy just bursts out, before containing herself and now scared with all her being. While the supernatural being in front of her just seems to enjoy her reaction and waits patiently for her to calm down.

- Exactly what you heard, my lady; - she still can't believe this dude looking like a rockstar, seemingly to just have got out of one of those magazines such as Rolling Stone is THE egyptian God of underworld and afterlife. Well, it's just like this old saying: “Never doubt a bad event, cause things tend to get way worse; faster than a blink of an eye”. Maybe she's just hallucinating the whole thing? She pinch her leg and yep, this hurts and she's surely awake.

 - Okay, so…. What exactly do you want from me? I mean, I`m just a mortal as you can see and I don't exactly have anything to offer out of the ordinary. - he raises his hand as a signal for her to stop speaking.

- Lady Cunningham, I know you; I've heard enough from the shadows, so many stories of you to just make me curious enough to plan, want to come out of my house and meet you personally. My subordinates are amazed by the fact you can see them and always wanted to come closer and speak with you; but that`s explicitly against our most ancient and important rules. I deeply apologize on behalf of them, if they ever scared you or even chased you around; they just didn't know what to do or how to react to you seeing them, unlike all the other people.- he never let go of her hand while speaking and seemed disappointed after speaking about this essentially -  But, even breaking the rules death gave us and all,  I'm here to also make an offer….. - he looks directly to her like there`s nothing except her soul and could read her deepest secrets without even thinking too much.

She is still scared, not only because he's an egyptian god but because the world out of this space seems to have stopped the clock of time and is very empty. 

- Eternity is something so boring, especially if you can't be seen by other people; so, what I want to offer you is very simple: you can spend some time and keep me company, when you're free from your obligations and in return I can give you rides to anywhere, at anytime - and there it was, the glint but this time; seems like some kind of trap or especially making a deal with the devil himself in exchange for her soul. - So, what do you say?

Well, this wasn't exactly what she had in mind when he offered a ride to school (more like a murder, to be more exactly). But at least he seems to be good even being a powerful god and seems lonely. Well at least she wasn`t trading her soul for some crap and maybe even win a true friend (who knows?);

- Deal. So I can pet the dogs,crows or whatever they are now and they will not try to kill me? - He tried to mask his laugh with a cough and it didn't work.

- By Ra`s sunglasses! PLEASE, tell me you didn't try to pet any of them? - he teased softly and humorously.

- Yeah, I did when I was nine, but it was JUST once!- Chrissy tried to hide her blushed cheeks and failed- So, you have a deal and I want to know, how will you contact me? and if we're gonna hang out, we`ll need a new name for you. Anubis is weird for literally anyone, except if it's a dog- he seems concentrated and trying to find an answer to both questions. Then he seems to remember something, searches his pockets, until he finds a ring inside his jacket and asks for her hand again with a gesture.

-Have you ever heard the story of a place called Hamunaptra?-she shakes her head in a silent “no” - It's an ancient city; now it's buried and forgotten in the Sahara sands; used to be my domain and was called the City of the Dead, used to be the house to my bracelet; An antique necropolis which was the final rest to pharaohs and their families. - he puts a golden ring with the format of a scorpion, with a jackal head with his sting ready to attack, in her middle finger - this is a little copy of my bracelet, with it you can summon me or go to any place where I am. - he gives her a little proud smile, while she just admires the ring and traces its form with the fingertips; before putting her own hand in chest and enjoying this warm feeling of matter to someone. But she fastly snaps out of her short trance to ask:

- What about your name?  we`re still stuck here. - sounding a bit impatient and worried, he just shakes his hand dismissing her worries. 

- Well, that's the easiest part; you can choose any name you want and it's fine with me. - she then remembers why she thought he looked a bit familiar, he seems almost identical to this man….but what was his name? Oh, yes! Eddie Van Halen. She snaps her fingers after remembering this. He stares at her like she's plotting some miraculous plan and waits for her to say something.

- Okay, so you`re gonna be Eddie. An old friend who lives in Chicago and is moving to Hawkins? - she looks at him to confirm and he nods a short “yes”.

- Sooo….- she tries to think of something else, like a thank you. But remain silent and just discard this thought. - See you tomorrow afternoon after cheer practice? - she smiles happy and he does the same.

- Yes,surely my lady! - he answers kinda excited - Oh! and I almost forget, just touch the sting of the ring three times and I will come as fast as I can to where you are. - he says, shaking his head a bit. He then snapped his fingers and smiled like a little kid, who just did something without the parents knowledge. - Now, you`re ready to go to your class and back to everyone, before they just panic.

With this, just as the world was waiting for a command to come back to normal. The sun shines once again softly against her face and all the mist slowly dissolves herself into thin air. She just lets out a heavy sigh of relief and opens the door, gets out and closes. Before going into the school building, she turns one last time and sees Anubis, or better, as he would be called now ; “Eddie” with the passenger window now open, sending a short goodbye with his hand. After she does the same, he yells:

- Say goodbye to Jason for me! - he uses his hand as a megaphone -  because he's literally not going to live enough to see tomorrow comin` - and as fast as he can; he just rolls up the window again, turns to the exit of the parking lot and goes away. While Chrissy is just standing there, in shock, not having processed the last sentence he just dropped on her; while watching the black Bel Air getting smaller in the distance and slowly thinking:

[As weird as this can be, I think we're gonna be great friends and well… I can deal with this shit after all]

Little did she know, after all;

they become much more than just friends….

Allies, Lovers - Soulmates.

[ptergwen]

I think your requests are open (I didn’t see anything that said otherwise but I suck at this app lol) but I was wondering if you could write a peter x reader (likely college-age) where they have an academic rivalry and just tease each other a lot and lots of fluff and shit? It can be an established relationship or like a friends/rivals to lovers or really whatever you want. Sorry if this is super specific! Anyways, I love your writing, it always cheers me up :)

friends close, enemies closer

ik this is cherry BUT i had to

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing and hints of suggestiveness

a/n: thank you my love ! i’m actually obsessed with this concept so i’m super super happy with how it came out n i hope you are too :,)

-

you wipe sweat from your upper lip, peeking at peter’s laptop screen. he’s more than halfway through the paper your english professor tasked your class to write. he looks to have not a worry in the world as he continues to type away. growling at this, you dive right back into work.

you’ve been at each other’s throats since the beginning of classes when you both wanted the same spot. first row, middle seat. peter had officially claimed it in the end. you’d flopped down next to him and his irritating smirk.

the dude is smart, you’ll give him that. his knowledge of literature is almost as impressive as yours. almost. he raises his hand any chance he gets, effectively stealing your thunder if you dare to participate.

peter is also a bit of a people pleaser. he’ll chat up your professor at office hours, fascinate her with his hot takes on things or stupid anecdotes. you often get so annoyed that you bail before you even attempt to woo her yourself. the sight of you storming off is something peter thoroughly enjoys.

bottom line is, golden boy peter parker never loses. underneath the sweet, innocent persona he hides behind is a ruthless fighter. you’re determined to end his winning streak, thus sparking your ongoing competition to be better than the other in every way possible.

this time, your goal is to meet your ten page paper requirements the fastest. they aren’t due for weeks, but you and peter are banging them out in one sitting.

you’re hauled up in the campus library, sat side by side despite your wishes for peter to get his own table. he’d insisted on sharing with you. why, you haven’t a clue. you can’t stand him, and he isn’t the fondest of you either.

that’s what you tell yourselves, at least.

“progress report?” peter requests from you. “page three. you?” you grunt back. he props his feet up on the table, arms flexed behind his head. “finishing up page seven. you already knew that, though... creeper.”

god, you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

you glance over at peter, doing your best to ignore how his biceps bulge under his hoodie. nerdy little parker is ripped.

“worry about yours, i’ll worry about mine. thanks.” you reread the sentence you wrote prior to peter’s chiseled body distracting you. “oh, the irony,” he sighs and nudges the edge of your laptop with his sneaker. scowling, you shift the screen away from him.

about a minute of silence goes by until it’s unfortunately filled by peter. he stretches his arms out, finally removing his dirty shoes from the table.

“i’m gonna take five. maybe, you could use it as an opportunity to catch up to me,” peter cockily suggests. “spare me your charity, peter. i’m doing just fine without it,” you retort, letting out a scoff. peter raises his hands in defense. “if you say so, princess.”

here you were, naively thinking peter couldn’t become any more insufferable than he already is.

you slam your laptop shut and jab a finger at his chest. “jesus christ, how many times do i have to ask you not to call me that?” a patronizing pout adorns peter’s lips. “aw, i love it when you get all bossy on me. so cute.”

he grabs your hand still on his chest, pressing a light kiss to the back of it. you’re quick to wipe it off on his hoodie. nevertheless, there’s an undeniable heat rushing to your cheeks.

“well, i hate it when you call me princess,” you deadpan. peter tilts his head to the side. “do you?”

of course not. deep down, you live for the fuzzy feeling you get whenever the nickname slips from his tongue. oh, his tongue and the things it can do. poking out as he focuses hard on a question, running across his pink lips…

you have to reel it in. this is peter parker you’re fantasizing about, your mortal enemy.

“yes. i hate it, and i hate you,” you unsuccessfully convince the both of you. “no, you don’t,” peter rasps, darkened eyes scanning over your features. his stare is intense and intimidating. he grasps your chin between his thumb and index finger, slowly leaning in closer.

he’s not going to stop until you make him. you don’t want to, but you will.

you shove his shoulder, dragging your laptop towards you again. “on second thought, i could use that catch up. you’re not gonna throw me off my game, parker.”

your rejection seems to disappoint peter. his expression matches that of a kicked puppy, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

“we’ll see,” he murmurs and swings a leg over his chair. “alright, i’m gonna run to the caf. you want anything?”

he’s offering to buy you food now? what’s his angle here?

“i’d say yes, but i’m afraid you’ll poison it somehow,” you half joke. peter hops to his feet. “don’t give me any ideas,” he warns, snatching his backpack off the floor. “i’ll just surprise you.”

although you’re curious what his mystery snack choice for you would be, you can’t accept. you’d be going against your entire dynamic.

would that be so terrible?

absolutely.

you wave him off towards the double doors. “i’m good, peter. really. i’m not that hungry, anyway.” shaking his head, peter throws a backpack strap onto one shoulder. “y/n, your stomach’s been grumbling for the last hour. you gotta eat.”

he’s not wrong. you’re starving, but you’ve been too preoccupied by your essay to break for dinner.

“fine, surprise me,” you concede. peter flashes you a smile, this one void of its usual condescendence. “i’ll be back. try not to miss me too much,” he calls as he walks backwards to the library doors. “i won’t. shoo already,” you dismiss him, a laugh falling from your lips.

peter winks at you, then disappears into the night. you’re left with a serious case of butterflies and a certain freckle faced know-it-all on your mind.

that’s a problem.

you’ve managed to get another page done when peter reappears. he sits back down and slides a bag across the table, you closing your laptop. you dig into it to figure out what he picked for you. you’re not too pleased with his selection, however.

“oh, yummy. vomit in a cup,” you announce as you hold a green smoothie in your hand. peter reaches over and pats your thigh. “it’s good for you. drink up, princess.” you slap him away. “hard pass. i’d rather you have gotten me nothing.”

narrowing his eyes, peter pulls two cookies wrapped in a napkin from his pocket. “i’m guessing you don’t want these either? more for me, then.”

they’re chocolate chip and m&m, your favorite in the cafeteria. they just came out of the oven, so they’re still warm.

“how… how did you know i…” you trail off, peter setting the cookies in front of you. he offers you a lopsided grin. “i know a lot about you, believe it or not. i pay attention.” you surprise yourself by returning his smile. “thank you, peter. how much do i owe you?”

“nah, it’s on me,” peter assures you. “enjoy.” pushing aside your unappealing drink, you seize the cookies instead. “you have to eat, too. let me at least split these with you.” there’s a beat before peter nods. “fair enough.”

that results in you two munching on your cookies while pretending to write your papers. you’re sneaking glances at each other whenever the other isn’t looking, in reality.

once it’s about time for the library to close, you’re on the verge of passing out. peter is concluding his essay until he hears a thump from your side of the table.

he finds you with your cheek smushed against your keyboard and hitting random letters, snores escaping you.

chuckling to himself, peter places a hand on your shoulder. “hey, y/n?” he speaks in a hushed tone. you awake with a gasp, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth. “easy there, princess. it’s only me.” he rubs circles on your back, and it’s oddly comforting.

“keep doing that,” you purr, momentarily forgetting how much you’re supposed to despise peter. he lets his fingers dance across the exposed skin of your lower back. “we should probably head out. it’s kinda late,” peter decides.

you sit up, bones aching and eyes forced open. “not yet. have to beat you first.” you start to delete the gibberish you accidentally typed. peter cups your cheek to turn your head towards him, your movements halting. “this one’s a tie. you did good, y/n/n,” he coos. “finish the rest another day.”

“why’re you being so nice to me?” you nearly whisper. peter uses his thumb to swipe the drool from your lips. “‘cuz i care about you. i might not show it, but i do,” he admits with the hint of a smile. “besides, i need you… for the, uh, the healthy competition.”

laughing softly, you twist his hoodie strings around your fingers and tug. “your intentions are pure as always. sure that’s all you need me for?” peter’s gaze darts to your lips, then your eyes. “we’ll see,” he repeats.

rivalry be damned.

“mm. i care about you too, parker. thanks again for tonight,” you hum. a blush coats peter’s cheeks, even in the dim library lighting. his sweet and innocent side might truly exist. “no problem.” peter links your pinkie with his, the gesture giving you that fuzzy feeling. “i’ll walk you back to your dorm?”

you lean over and kiss his pinkie intertwined in yours.

“lead the way.”

[send-up-my-heart-to-you]

heres a few moments i remember with him because he was literally the best

one time i half assed an essay, mostly copying from a website called mawdoo3. the vocabulary and language was of a high level, but he gave me 40% because i didnt try. later in the year, he told us to write a biography of someone, and i chose my grandfather. it was mediocre but i put in weeks of effort n research on it n i had to beg for extensions bc there was simply so much to do (it was handwritten and i did six pages). he gave me a 90%, pulled me aside in class to praise me, called my mom, told her to give me a reward of some sorts. not only did that help fix my broken relationship with my mother, but it also made me start actually putting effort in school.

he told us that if theres a project where we have to present, we have to try our best but if we cant do it then we should tell him. he said "i know that a lot of people get anxiety from presenting in front of the whole class, so i wont force you. but if you present, do it well. these girls are your sisters, look them in the eye when you speak"

he told me off in class because i was talking to my friend or smth while he was explaining a new grammar rule, then i said "well sir i was paying attention" and repeated what he had said. he beamed at me and said "i swear to god, you shut me up". no getting pissy abt the fact that i proved him right. no blowing me off like "yeah, whatever". he looked proud.

another time my friend in another class was having a mental breakdown. i went up to him, asked to be excused, and said "my friends not doing good, i have to check on her". he let me go without asking for details, then when i came back he told me to come over n said "let me know if i can do anything to help, yeah?"

i explained to him privately that i dont look at people when im focused on what theyre saying. whenever i tell that to anyone, they say "okay well its rude, you have to look at me when im talking to you." there was none of that from him. just a nod and he never told me off for staring off in class

was 100% the kind of teacher to praise for effort and skill. he didnt care if you could speak like a goddamn orator, he just wanted you to put your hand up. if you could manage reading out a paragraph without stuttering, thats awesome. if you could barely stumble through a sentence, thats okay too. at least you tried

the girls used to laugh at me when i read bc i was a slow reader in arabic n them laughing used to make me stutter and read slower and slip up and they used to laugh harder. he chewed them out and said "cant you see shes trying? leave her alone". he also used to lecture them when theyd not want to sit next to me in class: "shes your sister, be kind. you are no better than her."

may god have mercy on your soul, sir. you were the one who made me love my mother tongue; i went from mediocre in arabic to highly advanced, because of you. youre the reason i know how to speak arabic as well as i do now. youre the reason i love listening to qasidahs, the reason i love ahmed shawqi.

you were easily the best teacher i will ever have. thank you for your kindness.

so one of my old teachers died apparently

[harleysarchive]

Among You and Me - Corpse x Reader Oneshot (part 2)

Fandom: Corpse, youtubers Warning: Profanity, a lot of swear words, fluffiness, quite long Pairing: Corpse x f!reader Summary: You and Corpse continues with your conversations and it makes you realize that you have feelings for each other. 

Requested

< Previous | Next >

After Corpse had followed you on instagram the two of you talked like nonstop for days. It almost felt like you had known him for years. You had the same humor and he talked about some horror stories he wanted to do and you thought they sounded cool - but not wanting to admit that they scared you as well. You talked about school and how stressed out you were for the essays and exams that were coming up soon.

“I have an exam next Wednesday so I will be off the internet the whole day :(“ you wrote and buried your head in your pillow. 

“That sucks big time.”

“It doesss.”

“Wait… Then you will miss my upcoming stream that day :(“

Shit, you thought. You really wanted to see his stream but right now you don’t have time for it. Which sucks even more than school.

“Probably, I’m sorry :(“ you said and locked your phone to get ready for school.

Corpse POV.

I read the message she sent again and didn’t know what to answer. My brain was so tired so it had problems with coming up with coherent replies. I was not prepared for how the feeling of hurt and sadness that came with that response.

Why did I react like this, of course she has other stuff to do than to watch my stream…

But I couldn’t shake the hurt feeling from my chest. Even though we only had talked for a couple of days it felt like we had known each other for longer than that. She felt like a close friend almost. And when she was with me on my streams, it reduced my anxiety and my nervousness to know that she was watching, somehow it eased my nerves a lot.

Why do I need you there with me to feel safe? he thought to himself and started to type in a response.

“It’s okay, nail those exams for me ;)” he hit send. Thoughts fucking exams that is keeping you away from my stream.

Wait, wait, where the fuck did that thought come from? 

I shook my head, trying to think about something else. I pressed on (Y/N)’s profile on instagram and started to go through her feed. There were some selfies, some pictures of nature and different places where she had been. Some pictures with friends and some with her family. I stopped on a specific selfie of her. She looked so beautiful on it, all I could do was to admire it - and her. Then I did something I thought I’d never do. I took a screenshot of the photo and saved it as my background on my phone.

I will never meet her so this won’t do any harm, I told myself before I fell asleep.

Your POV.

You threw your bag at the couch and fell down face first in the bed. School was killing you at the moment and it wasn’t better with the essays that were piling up on your schedule. You groaned into the pillow and then took up your phone, one message from instagram. You opened it and it was from Corpse. Your heart made a little extra jump everytime you saw the name appear, and that he had answered you. You smiled and read the text. 

“It’s okay, nail those exams for me ;)”

“I will try my best to ace them, just for you ;)” you felt bold writing the last part. But what the hell right? 

You hit send and waited for him to respond. He was probably asleep now, knowing his weird sleeping schedule. Not wanting to wait the whole day - it would drive you nuts and also give you thoughts like “what if I’m annoying or disturbing him?” “what if my message woke him up and he’ll get mad and never want to talk to me again?” “what if…” you know?

You opened your texted book and tried your hardest to study, but it was hard when your mind was constantly wanders away to Corpse - the man that has been on your mind all the time lately and you didn’t mind it really. 

Is it possible to fall in love with someone that you haven’t met? you thought. Because if it is so, then I’m fucked...

Corpse POV.

I must’ve slept for more than three hours for the first time in weeks because I almost didn’t feel dead. I looked over at my phone and I had two messages. One from Dave checking up on me and one from (Y/N). I checked (Y/N)’s message first.

“I will try my best to ace them, just for you ;)”

I got a warm feeling on my chest reading the last part, just for you. I liked that. I liked that a lot actually, more than I liked to admit to myself. I looked at my background picture and there she was smiling at me. Even though it was just a picture from instagram it felt like she smiled at me. And only to me. Some confidence sparked inside of me and I messaged her again.

“Can I get your number?”

Your POV.

You had taken a break from your studying and were watching Mark, Bob, Wade and Sean playing Phasmophobia. It was hilarious to watch. Your phone lit up and you had gotten a message from Corpse on instagram. 

“Can I get your number?”

You stared at the message, he wanted your number. Your thumbs were typing but were shaking so bad, all this kinds of emotions can’t be good for you. 

“Of course!” you typed and then wrote down your number to him. You hit send and bit nervously on your nails. Not long after you got a message from an unknown number.

Hey is this (Y/N)?

Yes is it! Corpse?

Oh thank god! I was nervous I had typed in it wrong and were messaging some weirdo.

You smiled at the two of you continued your conversations throughout the evening.

Some days later it was Wednesday and you had one of your exams. You were a little bit nervous but not a lot. You had tried your best to study, even with obvious distractions, and you had got some informations in your brain. 

Wish me luck on my exam! you send to Corpse, knowing fully that he was sleeping, it was early in the morning, or perhaps he hasn’t even gone to bed yet. Yoy got a ding on your phone.

Good luck (Y/N), not that you need it you are a smart girl. But I know that you are going to kill it 🖤

The heart in the end made your heart jump. 

How am I suppose to consentrate when he sends me stuff like that? 

The exam went like a dream, you knew all the answers to all the questions and it went by fast. You felt pleased with yourself and looked at the clock and it was just before noon. Corpse livestream had just begun!

If I grab a quick lunch I can get home before it is over! you thought to yourself and walked as fast as you could towards the school cafeteria and then straight home.

You made it just in the middle of the stream, they were playing Among Us and Corpse were super nervous. You felt bad for him because you knew that he was great at the game. He didn’t have to be so hard on himself. An idea popped up in your head. You donated 10$ to his stream and wrote:

“You are doing great Corpse and my exam went great ;) much love (Y/N)” 

Now you were just waiting to see if he will notice the message. 

Corpse POV.

My hands were shaking so bad, more than usual. It was normal for me to be nervous before and during a stream but today my nerves were going crazy. I was making rookie mistakes as a impostor, like wtf I am supposed to be the number one impostor here. 

Fuck I wish my hands would stop shaking so bad, why am I so nervous? Well I knew the answer to the question but I didn’t want to admit it to myself. (Y/N) wasn’t here watch and it sucked so bad. I felt lonely and anxious. I looked over at the chat and was that I had recieved a donation with a message.

“”You are doing great Corpse and my exam went great ;) much love (Y/N)” Why thank you-... Wait a minute, (Y/N)?” my voiced cracked at the end of the sentence and I am sure someone caughed up with my surprised and overly excited tone. I took up my phone and texted her fast.

Please tell me that was you who wrote that.

I waited and I saw the three dots going of, not helping with my anxiety one bit.

Yes it was me, I finished much earlier with my exam than I anticipated, so I hurried home to see your stream. 

My heart became all warm over her message and I didn’t even notice that I had held my breath before I let out a huge sigh. She hurried home to watch me. My hands were shaking but not over my nervousness, but from excitement and, i don’t know happiness maybe. Three dots appeared again on the screen.

I couldn’t leave you alone when I know how nervous you get when you’re streaming.

Fuck... That sentence made me fall over the edge, if I haven’t already. I am falling for (Y/N) and I haven’t even met her... 

Yet.

A/N: Upon many requests, here is part two! It made me so happy to see all the comments on my first oneshot and how well recieved it got. Thank you all so freaking much! :D

Tags:

@annshit @artist-bby @polahorvat @wibblytimey @sadlysober @usuie12 @lunaruss @yeolliedokai @fanworrior @kirislut @deathcompass @pillowjj @simonsbluee @reddeserths  

[peachbear88]

The Greatest Love Story

A/N: Inspired by this lovely image I saw. I'm making this into a high school angst AU that takes place in like the 1900's. For the record, I know Steve isn't a bad person but this is an AU and I need one of those... You know, guys for this story so.... Yeah! Sorry! BTW, the second poem is not written by me, it's written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning and I stole some quotes from Shakespeare.

Warnings: Angst, homophobia, swearing, character death.

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

----------

You scale the ancient wooden stairs of your small school. avoiding eye contact with anyone. The stares you receive from others are painfully obvious as you speed walk towards the library, seeking shelter from the judgmental glances from your peers.

"Hello dear," the kind librarian greets you as you walk past her towards your corner of the library.

You don't respond, quickly ducking behind the massive shelves, hoping to spend as much time as possible in your safe space before the classes start. Placing back your old books, you scan the shelves, until a particular title catches your eye.

"Love Poems by Women?" You murmur, flipping through the worn pages.

----------

A giant dusty book lands on the librarian's desk, making her look up.

"May I take this out?" You ask, your tone emotionless, cold yet tentative. The librarian smiles gently at you handing you back the book.

"Of course dear. Happy reading." You give her a small, thankful smile before dashing out of the library door. The halls are partially empty, save for the kids that skip class, hanging around in the hallways and dark alleys after school.

You duck your head, avoiding eye contact as you pass the group leaning against the lockers, most importantly, the hazel eyed beauty that could snap your neck in half, Yelena Belova.

"Hey!" Your head snaps up. Big mistake. You lock eyes with the famed blonde and you drop your head immediately, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Y-Yes?"

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." She snaps. You peek at her from the corner of your eye, her sleek dress pants catching your eye.

"Interesting outfit choice," you note before you can stop yourself.

"What did you say?" She demands and you gulp, backing away.

"N-nothing." She slowly steps towards you, backing you into the lockers.

"Get to class. And don't ever let me see you again идиот (idiot)." You hurry down the hall towards your classroom, tripping in the process as you repeatedly look over your shoulder, watching as Yelena turns back to her friend group.

---------

"She was cute," Natasha points out as Yelena reclaims her spot leaning against the lockers. "Why do you feel the need to tease her so relentlessly?" Yelena rolls her eyes, grabbing the flask of vodka back from her sister.

"She's annoying. I don't like her." Natasha smirks.

"Sure. Whatever you say."

---------

You let out a sigh of relief when the bell rings.

Your classmates flood out of the classroom, jostling each other aside in their rush to get home. You quickly sprint out the door, eager to get home, safe and sound when a hand grabs you by the arm and pulls you into a dark alley behind the school.

"Hello there girly..." A deep voice says. You gulp. The boy steps into the light to reveal Steve Rogers. One of those people that take pride in hurting others, a bully, your tormenter.

"W-what do you want?" He smirks, stepping closer to you.

"Well, a little birdie told me that someone had an encounter with a specific blonde this morning." You flinch when he grabs you by the throat, pinning you to the wall. "You wouldn't happen to be... I don't know, one of those dykes would you?" Your eyes widen and you shake your head vigorously as he laughs. "Oh man," he sputters, choking through his laughter. "Wait till the school gets ahold of this-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence because a fist connects with his face, sending him reeling backwards.

"What the-" A strong hand wraps around his throat, pushing him backwards till his back connects with the wall.

"Listen to me you маленькое дерьмо (little shit), if you ever even think about coming near her again, I will sneak into your house at night, gut you like the fish you are and paint the school with them." Yelena warns in a surprisingly calm voice. Steve's eyes widen and he nods his head frantically until she lets go.

"Crazy bitch!" He spits, backing away quickly. You shuffle your feet, looking down at the ground as she watches him run.

"T-thank you." You mutter, not daring to look her in the eye. She sighs.

"This better not become a daily thing Y/L/N." You nod feebly. "Get out of here." You quickly pick your bag back up and sprint out of the alley, leaving Yelena by herself,

---------

"I'm home mom!"

"Welcome home sweetie!" Your mom pokes her head out of the living room.

"How's your book going?"

"As great as a woman writing a book can be." She chuckles forcibly. There's an awkward silence before she continues. "Your father came by today." She pauses as you swallow, feeling like something lodged itself in your throat.

"And what did he want?" She frowns at your tone.

"Sweetie, I know you don't like him but he's still your fa-"

"I don't have a dad," you growl, picking up your bag. "My dad died when he chose to abandon us." She watches as you climb up the stairs, sighing and rubbing her temple.

---------

You flop onto your bed, dropping the thick dusty buck onto the bed. You spend the rest of the afternoon reading through the poems until your mom calls you down for dinner.

It's an awkward dinner, quiet, only the sounds of dishes, chewing and utensils filling the room.

"I'm going to bed." You say after washing the dishes, not bothering to wait for a response.

That night, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling of your room.

"Love poems by women." You mutter, an idea popping into your head. You quickly sit up, flicking on your lamp and pulling out the book and a pen.

----------

"Good morning dear," the librarian greets you like she does every morning.

"I'd like to return this book." You reply coldly, passing her the book once again. She smiles gently at you.

"I hope you enjoyed your reading." She says while passing you, returning the book to its original shelf.

-----------

"Hello hon, can I help you with anything?" The librarian asks the dirty-blonde haired girl.

"No, thank you." The girl sends the librarian a tight lipped smile before returning her attention to the shelves. A ripped leather cover catches her attention. Love Poems by Women. She smiles, pulling the book from the shelf. Flipping open to the title page, a neat cursive catches her eyes.

Love flows between beings Gift from the gods Curse from the demons The missing part of every person Destined to be opposites Love is flexible Yet some seek to objectify love Love is not for the weak willed. - Aristophanes

The blonde haired girl hums, pulling a pen from her jacket's pocket and discreetly writing in the book, right next to the poem.

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

Terrible.

That's the only way to describe your day. You received your essay back, ecstatic to see that you had received an A. Steve on the other hand had absolutely flunked. Instead of dedicating his time to studying, he decided to beat you up as a way of taking out his frustration.

You ended up limping out of the women's toilet, your leg flaring up whenever you moved, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

"Hi sweetcheeks," the librarian murmurs, her eyes trailing down your injured leg.

"'Ello." You quickly duck behind the shelves, pulling out the book you were looking for. Your brows scrunch together in confusion as you see a messier scrawl next to your handwriting.

Reality hits hard

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

- Orpheus

You smile letting a light laugh slip from your lips. A sweet titter revealing the little girl underneath your cold, traumatized exterior.

Quickly, you grab your pen from your pocket and begin scribbling.

-----------

The air is knocked from your body as your back makes contact with the floor.

"Listen here dyke. I don't like you alright," Steve growls into your ear as Tony cracks his knuckles. "So here's what's going to happen: Everyday you're going to meet us here and," he pauses, cracking his neck. "Help us relive some stress." He smiles wickedly before punching you in the stomach, making you double over in pain.

Your eyes flutter shut as they deliver blow after blow 'till they finally stop. You tentatively open your eyes to see Yelena tackling Steve to the ground as Tony stares at them, eyes wide.

"I. Told. You. To. Leave. Her. Alone!" She screams, pummeling Steve with her fists. He groans, unmoving. You watch in terror as Tony picks up a trash can lid, sneaking up behind her as she punches Steve in the face.

"Watch out!" You scream, taking Tony as well yourself by surprise. She looks up to see you slamming into Tony sending him flying into the nearby wall of the alley.

He crumples, unconscious.

"Are you okay?" You mumble, limping towards Yelena, who's clutching a blood gash on her arm.

"'M fine,' she grits out. You shake your head, grabbing her wrist. She flinches but doesn't push you away.

"You're not okay. Let me help you." You plead. She stays silent and you quickly take her silence as a yes, leading her to the front steps of your home. You rummage through your back pack, finding a large wrap of bandages that you kept after your daily beating from Rogers and his friends.

She winces as you wrap her wound swiftly.

"Gentle!" She growls and you stare back at her defiantly.

"Well maybe if you would stop moving, it'd hurt less!" You retort and she shuts up, staring off into the distance. You dab the cut with a small bit of alcohol before wrapping the bandage all around her arm.

"Thank you." She whispers, giving you a small smile. Reaching out, she gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as you flinch back. You quickly, shovel the bandages and medicinal alcohol back into your pack, not noticing the hurt look on her face.

"No problem. The least I could do since you saved me." You reply bluntly, swinging the bag over your shoulder and slipping through the door.

"Wait-" She sighs as the door slams shut in front of her.

You exhale, leaning against the door as you try to catch your breath.

-----------

Yelena sighs exasperatedly, tugging at the collar of her dress shirt.

"What's wrong little sis?" Natasha smirks, plopping down next to her.

"I got hurt and Y/N patched me up." Natasha jumps up, eyes wide.

"You stained your new shirt?" She groans shaking Yelena violently. "God I'm going to kill you!" Yelena grabs her sister, stopping her.

"You're missing the point!"

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" Nat challenges, flopping back down on to the couch.

"She patched me up!" Nat's eyes widen.

"Oh. Oh." She inches closer to her sister, nudging her playfully, much to Yelena's dislike. "So are y'all like," she winks at her sister insinuatingly. "A thing?" Yelena scrunches her brows in confusion.

"A thing?" Nat rolls her eyes, sidling closer to her.

"Yes. A thing. An item? Lovers?" She shrugs, missing the way Yelena blushes.

"In her dreams," Yelena snorts, leaning back into the couch.

"If you say so..."

-----------

"Morning pumpkin!" The librarian chirps.

The blonde girl ignores her, breezing past her towards the the shelves at the very back, peeking over her shoulder quickly before pulling an old, leather bound book from the shelf.

She flips the leather cover aside to reveal the title page. Next to her messy, distorted scrawl was a neat, distinctive cursive once again.

Speak low if you speak love

- Aristophanes

She smiles gently, chuckling as she shakes her head.

"Shakespeare of all people," she whispers, her accent thickening. Pulling a forgotten pen from the shelves, she begins writing,

-----------

The highlight of your day became going to the library and reading the little messages scrawled in between the margins of the book by Orpheus. Like:

If music be the food of love, play on

Or

Her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love.

They made you smile on a daily basis, sometimes even eliciting a rare light laugh.

"Good morning sweetpea." The librarian greets you, not expecting a response. To her surprise and yours, you muster a small smile and a wave.

"Hello." You can feel the librarians shocked eyes following you as you round the bookshelf corner to find Steve, eyes wide, mouth open in shock as he stares down at something in his hands.

Your heart plummets. A book with a soft leather cover, yellowed pages. The book of poems.

You lunge for it but he step sides you swiftly, raising the book above his head.

"Speak low if you speak of love huh? I'm not surprised you know Shakespeare, you're such a nerd." He sneers, waving the book above his head.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." You stutter, backing up. He grabs you by the collar of your shirt, lifting you into the air.

"Don't fuck with me!" He growls, dropping the book and kicking it to the side. "Who's Orpheus?"

"G-Greek hero. Musician." You stutter and he slaps you, hard. You can feel your cheek swelling under his fiery gaze.

"Don't even try me. Who. Is. Orpheus?"

"I don't know, I swear!" You mutter, wincing when you accidentally bite your cheek.

He drops you, watching as you scramble to your feet, backing away.

"This isn't over you little shit. I'll be back for you," he warns, giving your book one last kick for good measure before storming out of the library with Tony and Bucky on his heels.

You fall to your knees, silently sobbing as you crawl over too the book, dusting it off and hugging it to your chest.

Yelena sighs, her heart breaking as she watches you curl around the book protectively, lying on the floor.

-----------

"Where are you going?"

Yelena turns to find Nat, leaning against the school stairwell doorway, watching her.

"Just up to the roof. Need some fresh air," she lies, avoiding Nat's gaze. Nat lifts Yelena's chin up, staring into her eyes, boring into her very soul. Yelena squirms under her gaze until she finally lets go.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." She smiles sadly at her little sister. "Just-" Her voice cracks as she pats her sister's shoulder. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Don't worry. I won't." She gives Nat a brief hug before hiking her pants up and starting up the stairs.

-----------

"Ah, well look who decided to join the party!" You look up from the ground to see Yelena, your eyes clouded with pain.

"No..." You croak but Steve pays no attention to you.

"Come to save your love Yelena?" He sneers, dropping you to the ground. "Or should I say... Orpheus?" Your eyes widen as you watch him advance towards her, pushing her closer to the edge of the roof.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She deadpans and Steve chuckles.

"Sure. If you won't admit, I'll just have to settle for destroying you from the inside out instead." He grabs her by the arm. "I haven't forgotten what you did to me." He points at a long thin scar along his jawline.

You watch as Tony sneaks up from behind Yelena, striking her with a metal bar. She crumples, falling to her knees.

"Hold her." Steve directs and Bucky dutifully grabs you by the arms. He holds Yelena's chin in between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. "Now you watch as I destroy the one thing you love the most." Tony tosses his the metal bar and Steve prepares himself before swinging it like a baseball bat.

There's a sickening crunch followed by your scream as the bar makes contact with your ribs.

"Stop!" She struggles, her eyes never leaving your broken body as he hits you over and over again. "Please! Leave her alone!"

Steve smiles evilly, locking eyes with her before swinging the bat again. Another scream. Blood trickles down your face from your nose.

"Is that right? Did the famous Yelena Belova just beg me?" He smiles cruelly before pushing you down on your back, his foot on your chest. You scream as he increases the pressure, your broken ribs digging into your lungs.

Yelena screams, kicking Tony's legs out from under him before punching Steve in the jaw. She grabs the iron bar before it hits the ground, clobbering Bucky in the stomach before kicking Steve in the stomach.

"ты сука (you bitch)!" She steps on his face swiftly, taking satisfaction in the groan of pain he emits before turning to you, gently cradling your face.

"Wow... That was pretty badass," you mumble and she laughs, tearing up. You reach out, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Don't cry." She frowns.

"I'm not crying."

"You are too." You smile, wincing in pain. "I didn't know you knew Shakespeare."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let this happen." You frown, caressing her face, forcing her to look at you.

"Hey, hey. It's fine. Don't worry. I'll be fine." You attempt to smile reassuringly but it comes out as more of a grimace. "Listen, if I don't make it-"

"Don't say that! You can't leave me!"

"Shush, listen you thickheaded poet. If I don't make it, go back to the book." You instruct her. She frowns but you can her off. "Promise me."

"But-"

"Promise me."

"I promise..."

"Good." You smile at her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, your eyesight blurring. "Wait for me okay?" Your eyes flutter shut.

"No! No Y/N! Come back!" She shakes you roughly, sobbing when you don't respond.

----------

Yelena watches as your body is carted off under a white sheet. Nat stands to the side, watching as her sister stares off into the distance, all life drained from her body.

Go back to the book.

She stands, slowly trailing towards the library, her eyes bloodshot, cheeks caked with dry tears.

"Hi dear," the librarian greets her, discreetly wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. "What a shame. She was a lovely girl."

"She really was the best." Yelena agrees quietly, giving the librarian a small, comforting pat on the back before moving to the back of the library where she finds the book, lying on the floor.

Yelena,

I believe that we are the greatest love poem ever written. I love you always,

Y/N

A choked sob escapes her lips as she stares at the page. You knew. You knew the whole time and you didn't even say anything. A pair of soft arms wrap around Yelena's stomach as she lets go of the dam, her cries echoing throughout the library.

"I'm sorry..."

I'm sorry...

----------

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @trikruismybitch @ima-gi--na-tion @nicole-rayleigh-hot @olsensnpm @peabrain112

[talatomaz]

lockdown | jj x fem!teen!reader

a/n: i can’t believe that a year ago today, the last ever episode of criminal minds aired. i miss jj so much 🤧

this is sort of in line with my own experiences (to a certain extent). and there’s not as much jj x d!r as i’d intended but I hope you still like it.

(feedback/positive comments are appreciated)

requested by @ouat2017 : “could you do a jj x daughter where the daughter’s school is on lockdown and jj is worried or something like that?”

warnings: gun violence. blood

word count: 2.6k

masterlist | request list | request rules

r is jj’s 18 year old adopted daughter and suddenly finds herself on lockdown after someone brings a gun into her school

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Look, you’re the one that needs to be tutored so can you please focus?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance.

You were currently in the tutoring centre trying to help a self-absorbed jock pass English so he could remain on the school’s football team.

Looking around you, you saw a handful of students giving both you and Cameron - the man-child you were tutoring - disparaging looks.

“You’re not supposed to be yelling at me. You’re meant to be telling me the answers.”

The aforementioned narcissist leaned against his chair, smirking at you in a way that made you fight to hide a shudder.

You could have easily wiped the grin off his face by mentioning who your mother was and who she worked for but instead, you decided to just continue ignoring his advances and carry on teaching him.

“That’s not how this works, Cameron. Now either you listen to me or you fail and get kicked off the team. And quite frankly, I’d rather the latter happen.”

You watched as his brows furrowed in confusion. Sighing, you answered, “latter means the second thing of two things mentioned in a sentence. Now, for the love of God, just finish writing your paragraph on Heller's satire of capitalism in Catch-22.”

You let out a breath of relief when he finally relented and started to scribble on his sheet of paper. You glanced over at one of your friends, who was also tutoring for extra credit, and smiled when she rolled her eyes at Cameron’s actions.

Leaning against the large desk that stood at the front of the room, you relished in the long-awaited silence aside from hushed whispers that came from other students asking for help.

Taking out your phone, you glanced at the screen to see that it was only midday and soon the lunch bell would be ringing.

You smiled softly at your lock screen.

It was a photo of you and JJ, your adoptive mother.

It was taken a few weeks prior at your 18th birthday party. You’d been living with JJ for almost 5 years now; her having fostered you before later adopting you when you were 14.

You still didn’t know what she saw in you on that day you’d first met her - you’d lost your family in a home invasion, barely surviving yourself - but whatever it was, you were grateful because you’d gotten a second chance at life.

Several minutes passed and you’d only broken from your train of thought when you heard someone clearing their throat beside you.

Looking over your shoulder, you saw your friend, the one who’d rolled her eyes earlier at Cameron, standing beside you.

“I see you finally got him to do his work.” She whispered, loud enough for your ears only.

“Barely. He still has an essay to write and hasn’t even finished a paragraph yet.”

“I would have smacked his sorry ass by now.”

You laughed before clamping your hand over your mouth, her comment having caught you off guard.

“Ally!” You whisper-shouted, playfully hitting her arm.

She looked at you with a raised eyebrow causing you to smirk, “Trust me, I’ve thought about it but-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a large bang rang out, shattering the silence the room had once held.

With wide eyes, your head whipped to the door where the gunshot had presumably come from and you listened as the hallways were filled with panicked screams.

Running to the door, ignoring the gasps and shouts from the other students behind you, you turned the lock on the door, pulled down the blinds, switched off the lights and jammed a chair under the handle.

Looking up, you saw everyone had the same look of panic in their eyes; a few were crying, including Ally, and others were pale with shock, Cameron was one of them.

“Guys, we’re gonna be okay but we have to be quiet.” You whispered harshly, constantly looking over your shoulder at the door, listening for any indication of the shooter coming your way.

Everyone stared at you, as if you were the leader of a camp and they were small children awaiting for further instruction.

You supposed it wasn’t far off.

By taking charge, you were the one who’d been unwillingly given the role of protector.

“First things first,” you walked over to the group of 10 students, “I need you all to make sure your phones are on silent. We can’t risk being caught.”

You watched as everyone followed your instructions.

“I know you all want to call your parents but that’s going to attract attention to us so for right now, we need to be quiet.”

Your heart was beating out of your chest and as you spoke, one thought repeated in your head. JJ.

Taking out your phone, you scrolled to find your mother’s name in your contacts. You watched as your thumb hovered over her name.

Just breathe, y/n. Breathe.

Tapping your mother’s name, you brought the phone to your ear.

“I thought you said we couldn’t call anyone.”

Your eyes locked onto Cameron’s, his face pale and his eyes filled with terror and a hint of anger.

“My Mum works for the FBI.” You whispered as the phone rang out.

Any other time and you probably would have laughed at the way his face grew paler, if that was even possible. But, in a situation this tense, it was going to be difficult to find any levity.

Your Mum picked up on the second ring and you let out a shaky breath when you heard her voice.

“Hi baby. A bit early for your lunch, isn’t it?”

You closed your eyes at her soft tone, as if you were trying to engrave the way she spoke into your mind lest you would never hear it again.

From your lack of response, the blonde sensed there was something up, “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

A single tear dropped down your cheek as you struggled to maintain a steady tone. Catching a glimpse of Ally staring at you, you steeled yourself and spoke.

“Mum, you need to come quick. Someone’s brought a gun into school.”

“Oh my-AARON.”

You winced when you heard her shout for her boss, listening as you could hear her run up stairs. You held your breath as she filled Hotch in on what was happening before telling Garcia to hack into your school’s security system.

“Are you okay? Stupid question. But are you hurt?”

“Mum,” you interrupted her rambling, “I’m fine. I’m in the tutoring centre with 10 other people. I don’t know how many people are injured. It just all happened so fast.”

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay.”

Though you could hear the clear panic in her voice, her words did bring some form of reassurance to you.

“Penelope’s hacking into the system so hopefully she can have eyes soon.”

As she spoke, you could hear the clacking of keys in the background of the call; presumably Garcia doing exactly what JJ said.

“Mum?” You questioned when you heard Garcia swear.

Instead of JJ answering, the usually peppy tech analyst replied, her voice shaky and wet, as if she was crying.

“Y/N, thank God you’re okay.”

“What’s wrong, Garcia?”

“Someone’s disabled the cameras remotely. I can only get them back online if someone reprograms them from the inside.”

Grasping what she was explaining, you nodded, “I’ll fix them.”

“What? No!”

Your mother had taken the phone off of Garcia.

“You are not leaving that room, y/n. We’ll find another way in.”

“Mum, someone needs to fix the system from inside the school. I need to do it.”

Ignoring your mother’s worried shouts, you continued to speak, “Mum, I have to. I love you.”

You disconnected the phone and switched it off, preventing her from being able to call you back.

“Y/N, you are not leaving this room.”

You’d only just realised that everyone had been watching you intently during that entire interaction.

“Yes, I am.”

Moving away from the huddle, you rose to your feet and replied to your friend.

Cameron rose to his feet and towered over you as he challenged you, “No, you are not. You’re going to put us in danger.”

“Do you know how to hack into our school’s security system and then reconnect the transformer and enter the Mastercode?”

His face contorted to a look of confusion making you reply,

“Exactly.”

Turning to leave, you felt a large hand enclose around your arm.

“I said, you’re not leaving.”

Your eyes flickered from Cameron’s hand up to his face that dared you to take another step.

“Remove your hand from my arm before I remove your hand from your body. You may letter in football but I’ve been trained by some of the best FBI agents there are and unless you want to end up in a sleeper hold, I suggest you shut up and do what I say for once.”

His harsh grip almost immediately lessened as his hand returned to his side.

“Good. Now, have any of you been shot? No? I didn’t think so. Well, I have and whoever did get shot is probably bleeding out in the hallway. I can’t not do anything.”

No one dared to respond and instead, shook their head ‘no’ at your asking if anyone else would try to stop you.

Content that you weren’t going to deal with any more unnecessary distractions, you made your way to the door and gently removed the chair that was beneath the handle.

“Ally, you’re in charge. Lock the door when I leave. By my count, the FBI will be here soon. And Cameron, you do anything stupid and I’ll shoot you myself.”

Unlocking the door, you stepped out into the empty hallway and hastily made your way to where the main security hub was located.

Just a couple of hours ago, all you had wished for was silence but now that your wish had been granted, all you wanted was to hear the playful shouts and conversations between your friends and fellow students.

The silence that currently fell on your school was unnerving and unbearable. And with each step you took, you flinched at the sound your shoes made against the marble floor. Each noise practically acting as a beacon for the shooter to come find you.

You let out a sigh of relief when you found the Hub and you quickly worked to reconnect the security system. Typing on the laptop that rested atop one of the servers, you couldn’t help the smile that formed when all the cameras re-engaged.

Tapping on one of the keys, you navigated through the various cameras, looking for any indication of the shooter or of any injured people. You stopped when you caught a glimpse of someone.

Squinting at the screen, you saw, what appeared to be a freshman - since you didn’t recognise him as being a part of your year - laying on the ground, a hand clutching his stomach as blood coated his clothing.

Immediately knowing where he was, you cautiously made your way to the east hallway before running when you noticed him laying on the ground, his blood coating the once-white marble floor.

Falling to your knees, you pressed your hands against his wound, trying to stop the steady flow. He groaned out in pain, tears staining his face.

“H-Help me.” He choked out.

“What’s your name?”

“Jackson. But everyone c-calls me J-Jack.”

“Jack, you’re going to be okay. I just need you stay with me, okay? I’m-”

“Y/N.”

You failed to hide the surprise from your face making the younger teen smile despite his predicament.

“You’re t-tutoring Cameron. Everyone knows who you are. Y-You’re the one who doesn’t take any of his shit. I think h-he likes you.”

“Well, tough shit for him. I may be bi but he’s definitely not my type.”

Jack’s laugh quickly turned into another groan of pain.

Unzipping your jacket with one hand, you used the other to keep pressure on his wound. After removing the jacket, you harshly pressed it against his torso and watched as it barely absorbed the blood.

“I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not. I won’t let you.” You said, tears filling in your eyes as memories rushed back of when you tried to save your brother after he’d been shot.

“You’re going to be okay. I just need you to-”

You stilled when you heard footsteps come up behind you.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You didn’t recognise the voice and couldn’t bring yourself to turn around to face the person who’d caused all this pain.

You opened your mouth before closing it again, unsure of what to say.

Closing your eyes, you readied yourself for your inevitable death when a shot rang out and a body slumped to the ground beside you.

Jumping at the action, you turned around and almost collapsed in relief at what you saw. Your Mum and her team stood behind you with several SWAT members flanking them.

The tears that had once filled your eyes now spilled shamelessly down your cheeks.

Without saying a word, JJ holstered her gun and ran to your side, hugging you as best she could since your hands were still pressed against Jack’s wound.

Paramedics soon followed and after that it was all a blur. It was as if you were floating outside of your body. Logically, you knew it was the effects of an adrenaline crash but you felt so disconnected from your body.

You barely took note as your mother gently lifted you to your feet, allowing you to be briefly looked over by the paramedics. Nor as your mother escorted you to one of the school bathrooms where she rinsed the blood off your hands.

You didn’t even say a word until you’d arrived back at the BAU where a worried Penelope wrapped you in a tight hug which you returned.

“I’m gonna take her up to my old office, Hotch.”

The Unit Chief simply nodded as he and the rest of the team watched as JJ led you to the abandoned office that was still filled with random case files.

Closing the door, she sat you down on her sofa and stared at you, not touching you in fear that even a simple caress would cause you to shatter.

You exhaled a long breath before finally speaking, “I’m sorry.”

Her brows narrowed, “Sorry? Sweetheart, why?”

You looked at your hands that had been coated in blood less than an hour before and then up at your mother; her blue eyes filled with nothing but concern, love and confusion.

“You told me not to leave and I did. I’m sorry.”

And with that, you started to cry heart-wrenching sobs that made your shoulders shake.

JJ gathered you in her arms, gently rocking you as her long blonde hair draped over you.

“It’s okay, y/n. I got you, baby. You’re safe now.”

Her arms wrapped tightly around you as she laid soft kisses on your head, her hand stroking your back.

That only served to make you burrow into her even more, seeking comfort in her motherly embrace.

You muttered your apologies as she continued to reassure you that you were okay.

JJ was afraid that if she stopped, you wouldn’t be here, safe in her arms.

Still rocking you in her arms, she whispered in your ear,

“I got you, baby. You’re safe now.”

[littlestarrykenobi]

Spin the Bottle (Akaashi x Reader NSFW one shot)

Summary: You are tired of Akaashi’s dual personality toward you and decide to get to the bottom of it with a bottle of wine and a late night alone. 

Warnings: NSFW, name calling, quickie, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2793

The day you moved in you knew that Akaashi was going to be a troublesome roommate. The landlord assured you that the boys she already had living in the room were nice young men, one of them hardly ever home in the first place, and since you were desperate for somewhere to live before the start of term you didn’t figure that you had much of a choice otherwise.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto cheered as he set down the last box. “Barbeque dinner time yeah?! You promised!”

The door to Akaashi’s room was already shut before you had the chance to answer, leaving you alone with the silver haired extrovert. What you didn’t realize was that Akaashi had his back to the door, cheeks bright pink as he slid to the floor, staring at the ground as he tried to collect himself. He had hardly the occasion to speak two words to you before but he’d seen you on campus freshman year and now…? Well, he’d have to talk to you… unless…

You and Akaashi have been basically battling back and forth leaving each other subtle hints for nearly two months. The crush came fast, made of little reminder notes left on bathroom mirrors for both you and Bokuto and cups of coffee left hot for you on the kitchen counter in the mornings. You caught him sneaking little glances out of the corner of your eye before and it was sincerely sweet how he’d work late with you at the small kitchen table, his books spread over half of it while your side was just as messy. He’d make you little snacks at midnight, bring you coffee during especially strenuous study sessions, but when you would try and joke with him like you would with Bokuto he’d shut you out completely. It seemed almost impossible to you that these two men, so opposite in personality, could be such close companions but… You supposed that crazier things have happened.

“Oh come on Akaashi you and Bokuto have to have a little more in common than that,” You teased one evening.

“What do you mean?” He asked quietly.

“Well how is it that a guy like Bokuto who’s all machismo and confidence make friends with a-” You watched as his face fell, a blush on his cheeks as he shut his laptop hard.

“I should be getting to the library.”

“Wait, that came out wrong I-”

“No, no I’m not offended I really have to be going.”

Then you’d sigh and slump in your chair, working alone again. You were getting tired of how evasive Akaashi was, especially since you and Bokuto were really starting to get closer as friends.

“You just intimidate him!” Bokuto promised you one night as you sat at your favorite small dive bar. “He’s not used to having two pretty faces to deal with!”

“First off I’m not that pretty and second off how could I be intimidating?” You laughed, shaking your head as you took another sip of your drink.

“Well, okay, Akaashi only had like… Two girls he ever went on a date with that I know about. Being his best friend, I think I’d know! So… What are you going to do huh? Maybe you could get him to do a movie night when I’m gone next weekend.”

“You’re going to be gone?” You muse, thinking it over. It’d be nice to spend more time with Akaashi and besides… The mystery had a little bit of an allure to it.

As you and Bokuto walked home you thought about it more and more. Why were you so determined to be Akaashi’s friend anyway? What did it matter if he hated you or something, Bokuto was clearly happy with you being at the apartment and besides it wasn’t causing you any trouble so why did you care so damn much about this handsome fit setter? But that’s when it began to hit you. The kindness of those notes about things you had due, the thoughtfulness of how he started getting snacks he’d know you’d like for your midnight essay writing, staying up with you when he didn’t need to to cram for tests… You were starting to fall for the way he showed you how he loved you, even if he couldn’t say any of this out loud… yet. That next weekend, when Bokuto was away for a game, you were going to figure out if the seemingly insane thing your brain came up with had any merit to it whatsoever.

You hear Akaashi come home, the door slamming behind him as he dragged himself over to the couch. You could see how the semester was stressing him out, wincing as his tired eyes turned to you. He had hardly been home for the past two days, holed up in the library as finals approached.

“I turned in that paper, Y/N,” He said softly, a proud smile on his face. “I can finally relax…”

“Oh?” You smiled as you joined him on the couch, noting how he made just enough room for you but didn’t quite move far enough for there to be any more than a few inches between the two of you. “Well then it’s a perfect time for a wine night isn’t it?”

“Honestly that sounds.. really nice…” He mumbled, blushing and clearing his throat as he thought about the advice Bokuto gave him.

It’s obvious she likes you too! Just… Say yes to it! Go with what she wants to do and then you’ll figure out the perfect time when it hits, just like we always have!

That wasn’t how they always had, true, but he understood the sentiment Bokuto was getting at. Shutting down opportunities to spend time with you wasn’t helping him one bit so… Why was this so difficult? He let you run off, getting the bottle of wine and the opener before you sat back down, filling two glasses.

“To work well done and reward well earned,” You smiled, clinking glasses with him as you eased into the couch.

Akaashi blushed, nodding with the toast as he leaned back as well, absent mindedly wrapping an arm around your shoulders, his cheeks hot with embarrassment the moment he realized it. But it was too late now, wasn’t it? If he pulled away you’d for sure notice and then think he didn’t want to have his arm around you which he totally did but if he leaves his arm and you don’t want him to have his arm around you then he just comes off as creepy, doesn’t he? He’d been maintaining a distance between you two for his own protection but now that you leaned into the way his arm had been wrapped around your shoulders that had vanished into thin air… and what surprised him most was how grateful he was for its absence.

That small touch was enough to put him at ease, not thinking about how the wine flowed until you were both three glasses deep, sharing stories from high school as he told you more about how Bokuto would practically form mushrooms pouting when he messed up in Volleyball. He felt your weight shift a little to look more at him as he decided to finally get bold. A tad bit woozy, he set the glass down before taking your face in both his hands, squishing your cheeks and his legs onto the couch.

“I want… to kiss you.” He mumbled, his blue eyes flickering all over your face, trying to memorize the way you heated up as he made his infamous split second decisions. “But I cannot…” He whispered, bursting out into laughter as he fell back onto the couch, clutching his chest like his heart had been pierced with an arrow.

You crawled between his legs, leaning over him with a grin.

“I could kiss you then,” You offer, leaning in to do just that before he puts his hand over your mouth, his palm pressed to your sweet lips.

“No,” He whined, shaking his head firmly. “You can’t.”

“And why not?” You pouted, voice muffled by his hand and reminding him of Bokuto’s pout just enough to inspire a large goofy grin.

“Because if I kiss you… I wont stop… and I want to remember… everything about that, Y/N-chan.” He purred, his hand moving quickly to behind your head, pulling you down to rest your head on his chest, taking a deep breath as he held you. “I like you… a lot… And… I just want to fall asleep with you like this… Can you stay with me tonight?”

His voice had just the slightest whine to it, clearly reluctant to let you go even if it was just to walk down the hall to his room. He could hardly remember the rest of the night, his leg hooked in between yours so you couldn’t wander off, his arms wrapped around your body so you were enveloped by his warmth… He fell asleep in his clothes, not caring that he was in jeans and a button down which are arguably some of the least comfortable sleeping clothes one could wear. The next morning when his head stopped spinning he spent almost twenty minutes just staring down at you, admiring how peacefully you slept with him, sighing contentedly. This was exactly how he wanted things to be with you…

He almost began to pretend to be asleep when you woke up but the way you said his name, mumbling it before you cuddled into him… He smiled down at you, kissing your forehead softly.

“I know Bokuto-san will be home soon but… I… I wanted to…” He stammered, his cheeks getting tomato red as you looked up at him with such big loving eyes.

You didn’t give him an opportunity to finish his sentence, pressing your lips to his so sweetly he could swear that he felt a cavity pop up right as it happened. He smiled into the tender kiss, one hand gently tangling into your hair, pulling you closer as your bodies pressed to the other, desperately seeking their touch. He couldn’t fully hold back his moan as you rolled on top, happy to let you straddle him as you kissed lovingly over and over, his face radiating heat as he realized what you could probably feel despite his jeans.

“You know I’m sure it wasn’t comfortable sleeping in your dress shirt like this…” You mumble as your fingers delicately begin to work on his buttons. He lets a shiver run down his spine, the morning sunlight making you glitter like a deity above him as he lets you completely take control.

“If this is what you want I-” he whispered before you started to giggle, making him furrow his brow. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing,” You tease. “Last night you were all ‘oh if I kiss you I’m not stopping’ and here you are, letting me be the dominant one.”

Akaashi smirked, huffing a little as you challenged his dominance. He quickly started to help you with his buttons, slipping out of the shirt as he sat up, throwing the garment aside as he wrapped an arm around your lower back, easily flipping you onto your back. “If you’re going to hold me to my promises like that, my little flower, then I suppose I have to do my best to fulfill every last one of them.”

His hands slipped up your shirt, fingers playing with your nipples as he pressed his lips to yours again, tugging and rolling them between his fingers, trying to illicit any reaction he could as he nibbled and sucked your bottom lip, reveling in your every small moan or noise.

“Keiji,” You whine as he moves his kisses to your jaw, finding a sweet spot by your ear before going for the pleasure centers in your neck.

“What is it, my flower?” he purrs, backing off of you just enough to slide your t-shirt over your head and throw it to the side, abandoned with his own in the corner.

“Y-You said… Bokuto could-“

“I don’t want to talk about him. I want to focus on you.” He growled, clearly a little jealous that he hadn’t rid your thoughts of everything and anything but him right now.

“N-No, Keiji he could walk in on us if we a-aren’t… you know…” you mumble, blushing darkly as you melt under his intense stare.

“Well… Then I suppose I’ll have to savor you another time, hmm? I should just punish you now then, is that it? Punish you for teasing me?”

You blush, shaking your head as he pulls off your sleep shorts, smirking to see the arousal already evident. “No underwear huh?” He chuckled. “Figures. You know who finds your… dirty panties in the bathroom, don’t you?”

Your brain is practically melting now, thinking back and remembering times when you must have forgotten to pick them up after showers. You always had all of them, you thought at least, and he’d never brought them up before so you hadn’t noticed.

“What if Bokuto-san had found them, hmm? What would he have said?” Akaashi growled, his digits quickly making work to stretch you out for his waiting, throbbing member as one hand worked on undoing his jeans. “Unless that’s what all this was, hmm? Playing us against each other? So fucking dirty, aren’t you?”

He pulled away just long enough to take off his pants, leaving them exactly where he was standing as he crawled back on top of you now completely nude, still towering over you as he pressed a finger into your mouth, making you suck your own need off of them. “Now be a good little flower, won’t you? Let me fuck your brains out.”

His pace wasn’t meant to let you adjust. If you were going to bring Bokuto up, remind him how Bokuto could be back at any minute, ruin the morning he’d been dreaming of then, well, he was going to ensure your pussy would be made into a perfect sleeve for his cock regardless of what you thought on the matter. He sucked on your neck as he drilled into you, carefully hitting your sweet spots as he held your chest to his, leaving marks hungrily all along your exposed skin. Keiji didn’t care to let anyone have even the slightest opportunity to imagine you without being reminded that he’d be there. One hand slipped back down to your sex, fingers working at a furious pace to get you off as your orgasm approached. You two were practically animals in heat, howling for each other as you took advantage of Bokuto’s absence.

“Fuck I’m so close,” he muttered, not realizing that was the first thing he’d even been able to say since he’d sheathed himself into you for the first time.

“Come on,” he whispered into your neck, not letting up on his speed. “Fuck baby I need you to cum…”

He begged for your orgasm, fingers working like mad as he finally felt you climax, gasping as his eyes widened, the hand working your sex quickly going to his own as he squeezed hard around the base, pulling out as quickly as he could to spill his cum on your stomach, panting as he painted it white with his sticky juices.

“F-Fuck,” he chuckled, still shaky as he tried to catch his breath. “You certainly know how to… take it out of me…”

He sat back on his heels, admiring how beautiful you looked covered in his cum after your own orgasm. “If I had any idea where my phone was I’d take a picture but… I suppose I can wait for next time…”

“Next time?” You said, ears perking up.

He furrowed his brow, confused and a little frustrated. “Wait you didn’t think…? Boke.”

Akaashi shook his head, sighing softly with a light smile. “Let’s clean you up before Bokuto gets home alright? I think I… Can finally tell him I have a girlfriend…”

He gently stroked your cheek before getting a tissue, happily cleaning your stomach as he let you sneak back into your room, out of the view of the living room. He stood in the door to your room, wearing some casual sweatpants and an old volleyball t-shirt, wrapping his arms around your body for a moment and giving you a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Let’s go make breakfast yeah?” he mumbled.

“I was thinking pancakes!” Bokuto laughed as he passed by the two of you, heading to his room at the end of the hall, making Akaashi freeze. “By the way, a little quieter next time yeah? Might wake the neighbors!”

[marauders-venting]

Worth The Wait

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff & angst

warnings: mentions of being sick and throwing up

words: 2502

a/n: this is a request I got from someone on Instagram and I absolutely love it!

“Evans, are you sure you’re okay?” Sirius asked, glancing over at her. Lily was sitting in the corner of the common room, bent over the table, her head resting on her arm. She had been looking peaky all day, which Sirius might not have noticed if James hadn’t pointed it out to him. 32 times to be exact.

“Do you think she’s sick, Pads? Should I ask her? Nah, she’ll get mad at me. But if she really is sick she should be in the hospital wing. But what if I ask her and she’s actually fine and she thinks I’m insulting her or something?” James had finally asked her if she was alright at dinner when she hadn’t eaten anything.

“I’m fine,” she had said. Except she hadn’t snapped at him. In fact, she smiled a little. James had practically glowed. “Just a little nauseous.” But it was an hour later and Lily still looked ill.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, this time to Sirius. “I’ll be fine.” She lifted her head, looking back at her half-finished essay.

“Lils, you’re pale as fuck,” Marlene said. “You’re sick.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine,” she said. Less than ten minutes later, Lily had rushed to the bathroom and thrown up.

“Okay,” she said when she came up. “Maybe not so fine. I think I have a stomach bug or something, I’ve been nauseous all day.”

“Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital wing,” Mary said.

“Wait,” she said. “Remus and I have prefect rounds.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll cover for you,” Remus said. “You do it for me all the time.”

“Thanks, Rem.”

“Of course. Feel better, Lils.” She and Mary headed for the portrait hole. Sirius glanced at James, who was biting his nail and not paying any attention to the textbook lying open in front of him. Sirius knew he wanted to go with Lily — he was worried about her — but he didn’t want to annoy her. Not when they’d been on such good terms for the past few months.

Barely five minutes had passed before Marlene said, “Well, there’s no point working on this shit without Lily.” She gestured to the essay.

“I could help you if you want,” Alice offered.

“Don’t worry yourself, Alice, she knows,” Dorcas replied before Marlene could say anything. “She could do it herself if she wanted to. She just doesn’t want to do it and that’s her excuse.”

“Shhh stop exposing me,” Marlene said, flopping dramatically onto Dorcas’ lap. “I’m too tired to write essays now.”

“Well, are you gonna go to sleep any time soon?” Dorcas asked, raking their fingers gently through Marlene’s hair. Marlene took Dorcas’ other hand and kissed it.

“Only if you can’t think of anything better for us to do,” she said.

“Oh baby, I can think of several things we can do,” Dorcas said, smirking.

“Oh?” Marlene said, sitting up. “Such as?”

“Well, I’ll give you a hint,” Dorcas said. “They all involve a bed, but not sleep.” Marlene grabbed Dorcas by the hand and pulled her towards the staircase leading to their dorm.

“I’d steer clear of your dorm if I were you, Alice,” Peter said, looking up from the textbook in his hand.

“Yeah,” Alice laughed, “I think I’ll go see Lily in the hospital wing. If Madam Pomfrey will let me in.” So she got up and walked out the portrait hole too.

Half an hour later, only Sirius, Remus, Peter and James, who had been surprisingly quiet this whole time, remained in the common room.

Sirius was sitting on a couch, his feet up on the table in front of him; he had given up on the essay long ago. He knew he would still get a decent grade though, even if he had barely put any effort into it.

Remus was sitting on the floor beside him, his essay spread across the table. Remus quickly scribbled the end of a sentence and flopped his head back onto the couch, groaning.

“It’s going to be so boring, walking around the castle alone,” he complained. “I mean, I guess I shouldn’t complain since Lily does it for me every month, at least once but still.”

“You don’t have to do it,” Sirius said. Remus slapped his leg, the one that was near his head.

“You know I do,” he replied.

“Fine then, I’ll come with you,” Sirius said.

“You can’t do that,” Remus said.

“Says who?” Sirius shrugged.

“Well, are you a prefect?”

“Do I look like I care?”

“Fair point,” Remus said. He looked like he was contemplating it. 

“So d’you want me to come with you or not?” Sirius asked. His heart was beating faster than it should be. So he’d be walking around the castle with Remus. So what? It certainly didn’t mean anything. Remus hesitated a second before replying.

“If we get caught, can I pin it all on you?” he asked, grinning at Sirius.

“Sure,” Sirius shrugged. “It’s not like they can give me more detentions without cutting into lesson time, can they?” Sirius stood up, cracking his knuckles nervously. He wanted to be alone with Remus but if James and Peter wanted to come… Well, he couldn’t tell them not to without it being weird. But Remus didn’t suggest it and neither one of them seemed eager to join.

“We won’t wait up,” James said, smirking at Sirius. James saw right through him. Sirius didn’t care, as long as he didn’t make it obvious to Remus. Like he was doing right now. Sirius pointed the finger at him from behind Remus’ back.

“Hold on, I need to put this essay upstairs,” Remus said. He ran up the stairs to the dormitory.

“I officially give up on this essay,” Peter said, slamming the textbook shut. “I don’t care, I’ll do it tomorrow. My brain isn’t functioning now. I need a shower and sleep.” He got up and started up the staircase after Remus. “‘Night,” he called.

“G’night, Pete,” James called back.

“‘Night, Wormy.” Once Peter was out of sight, Sirius rounded on James.

“James, I swear to god, if you keep making jokes, I will personally murder you,” Sirius said.

“Oh relax, would you? Nobody takes my jokes seriously except you. Although I guess that makes sense.” James laughed at his own pun.

“That was pathetic,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “Only I can pull those jokes off. It’s my name.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” James said. He hesitated for a moment before asking, “Do you think I should have gone with her?”

“Relax, Prongs, she’ll be fine,” Sirius said. “Mary and Alice are with her. Besides, I doubt Madam Pomfrey will let you in.”

“Yeah, I guess,” James said. “Do you think she’d be annoyed if I went to visit her in the morning?”

“I don’t know, James. She might not even stay overnight. Not for a stomach bug.”

“Yeah, probably not. I can’t do what you do and sit by my crush’s sickbed, staring wistfully at their beautiful face and wait for them to wake up so I can spend all day caring for them,” James said.

“What? I don’t do that,” Sirius said, going red.

“Of course, you do,” James said matter-of-factly. “Every month. It’s very sweet, by the way. Disgustingly sweet.” Sirius elbowed him in the ribs. “But really, are you just never going to tell him?” James added. But Sirius didn’t get a chance to reply because Remus came back downstairs and headed straight for the portrait hole.

“See you guys later,” he called.

“Moony, wait for me,” Sirius pouted, hurrying after him and trying not to think about what James had said.

“Don’t be so slow then,” Remus said as Sirius caught up to him at the end of the corridor.

“Slow? I’m the one who waited for you to put your essay in the dorm!” Sirius exclaimed.

“Shh, you can’t yell,” Remus said. “Especially since you’re technically not supposed to be here.”

“Fine, I won’t yell,” Sirius said. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“Literally nothing,” Remus said. “We walk around the school until we’ve covered enough ground that I can report back to McGonagall and say that there are no students out of bed and then we go back to the common room. It’s boring as fuck.”

“Well, I’m here to keep you entertained, Moony, so prepare for the best prefect rounds of your life,” Sirius said.

“Why does that concern me more than it comforts me?” Remus replied.

“Because you’re cynical and mean,” Sirius said.

---------

“I can’t believe you do this like four times a week,” Sirius said, as they headed to McGonagall’s office. “How haven’t you died of boredom yet?”

“You didn’t have to come, y’know,” Remus said. “Your complaining doesn’t make this any more enjoyable.”

“I’m not complaining, I’m making a point about how unfair this is for you,” Sirius said, as they reached the end of the corridor.

“Trust me, I know,” Remus said. “Now wait here while I tell McGonagall that I’m done. Don’t be loud.” It only took Remus about three minutes to get back but Sirius had already made himself comfortable on the floor. He hopped up when he saw Remus come back.

“Let’s sneak out,” he said immediately.

“What?”

“Let’s go out to the grounds, by the lake.”

“Sirius, we’ll get caught.”

“No, we won’t.”

“Yes, we will. We don’t have the Cloak.”

“So? We can be stealthy. And, worst case, we get caught. So what?”

“First of all, you suck at being stealthy, Sirius, and second of all, I’m a prefect. I’m supposed to be setting a good example. And it’s not really setting a good example if I get caught breaking the rules, is it?”

“Don’t be such a buzzkill, Moony. Pleeeeease. I promise we won’t get caught. There’s nobody awake to catch us, everyone will have gone to bed by now. And we can look at the stars. Come on, Moony, you love astronomy. Plus you won’t have an annoying professor asking dumb questions that nobody cares about. Pleeeeease?” Sirius pouted.

“Fine,” Remus said, grudgingly. “If we get caught, I’ll kill you.” But Sirius was right. Everybody must have been asleep because there wasn’t a single person in the corridors.

Remus and Sirius crossed the grounds and went over to the lake and sat down side by side. Remus lay down on the grass and stretched his arms above his head. Sirius flopped down beside him.

“Do you recognise any of these?” Remus asked.

“Some,” Sirius said. He pointed at the sky. “See that star right there? That’s the dog star, Sirius.”

“And this is the thousandth time you’ve told me,” Remus said, rolling his eyes.

“Well if there was a star named after you then you wouldn’t shut up about it either,” Sirius said. Remus rolls his eyes again. “And if you don’t stop rolling your eyes, they’ll get stuck.”

“Stop giving me reasons to roll my eyes then,” Remus says. Then after a moment, he adds, “is there a wolf star?”

“Uh-huh,” Sirius nodded.

“Where?”

“Right here,” Sirius said, poking Remus with his elbow.

“Shut up.” Remus rolled his eyes again.

“I’m complimenting you, Moony.” Remus didn’t reply. He sat up and stared at the lake. Sirius sat up as well. He thought of what James said earlier. He could technically never tell Remus about this. He could keep it a secret. He could grit his teeth and try to get over it. But the way Remus looked at him now as they lay under the stars… their eyes met and Sirius couldn’t explain it but something gave him a feeling that maybe he wasn’t the only one thinking about it. He could see a faint blush on Remus’ cheeks from when he’d called him a star. And he’s so close.

Sirius wasn’t quite sure what possessed him at that moment but he slowly inched closer to Remus. He leaned in and brushed his lips against Remus’ but Remus turned his head away from him, ending the kiss before it even started. Sirius moved back quickly. He didn’t want to invade Remus’ space, he didn't want to force himself on Remus.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly he wasn’t sure Remus had heard him.

“Don’t be,” said Remus. He was looking at the floor. “I just…” He just what? Sirius waited. He wanted to help Remus along like he always did but didn’t know how. He was usually so good at understanding how to help Remus explain himself when words would fail him, how to prompt him without pushing him, but now… Sirius wished a hole in the ground would swallow him. He’d fucked up bad. Sirius didn’t want to pressure Remus so he stayed silent. But the silence was awkward and filled with tension.

“Maybe… maybe we should just…” started Remus, struggling to get out words, “maybe we should just stay… friends.” Sirius felt like someone had kicked him in the gut and knocked all the wind out of him. He bit his lip and it was all he could do to stop the tears rushing to his eyes, begging to spill onto his cheeks. He should have seen this coming. Why should Remus ever want to be with him? Just because he’s had feelings for Remus for the past few months, didn’t mean Remus returned those feelings. What was he thinking, trying to kiss Remus? He wished he hadn’t done it.

Sirius must have been delusional to believe that Remus might want him. Delusional or in love. Same difference, really, he thought. He couldn’t digest this. He felt sick. He turned away, afraid that he would vomit on Remus.

“If that’s what you want,” he said. His voice was feeble. It sounded empty and dead. He hoped Remus couldn’t hear how hurt Sirius felt. He didn’t want Remus to feel guilty. It wasn’t Remus’ fault that Sirius fucked everything up. It wasn’t Remus’ fault that Sirius had fallen in love. (Well, actually, one could argue that it’s entirely his fault, Sirius thought, I mean look at him! How am I supposed to not fall in love with him?) Sirius couldn’t look at Remus.

“Sirius, I—” Remus started. Sirius waited but Remus didn’t continue.

“I think I’ll go now,” Sirius said. He wasn’t whispering but his voice was very quiet. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.” He was, after all, breaking a school rule. And Remus was a prefect. He stood up without another word and Remus remained silent as Sirius started walking away. Sirius didn’t look back. He didn’t want to see Remus (his amber eyes that could go from tired to fiery in seconds; his soft, brown curls that he brushed away from his face with his hands; his small, sweet, addictive smile that came with a crinkle next to his eyes; his hands covered in scars; in other words, too fucking perfect for words), it would be too painful.

[onecanonlife]

Wilbur wakes up one morning to find white in his hair. This is—irritating, for several reasons, but that’s all it is. An annoyance. A distraction.

There’s nothing deeper at work here. There’s nothing wrong at all.

(Or, the stresses of the presidency give Wilbur a white streak of hair earlier in canon, and somehow, this serves as the cry for help he can never bring himself to make.)

(word count: 6,249)

(first part) (third part) (fourth part)

——————–

Part Two

He tries to pen a letter to Phil. It’s more difficult than he remembers.

Dear Phil, he starts, and that’s good, that’s fine. All is well here in L’Manberg, he continues, and that’s good too. But from there, he’s stumped. What next? What does he tell him about? This is the part where he’d launch into a cute story, something Fundy got up to, or some trouble Tommy caused. But nothing comes to mind. Nothing recent, anyway. But the last letter he sent to Phil was—a month ago? Two, now? So he needs to write, because Phil’s far from a helicopter parent, but he still likes to know what he’s up to. Will still worry, if he gives him a reason to.

So, he needs to finish a letter. Needs to stop procrastinating.

He could write about Niki’s bakery. He can’t remember if he told Phil about it or not. He probably hasn’t, not if it’s truly been that long since his last missive. So he sets his pen to work, scratching out a few more sentences, and he reminds himself that he doesn’t need to be overly verbose. Phil doesn’t need an essay. Just a paragraph or two to assure him that he and everyone else are well, that he’s having fun, that he’s thriving.

Telling him about the bakery will work for that. Except, then, after a bit, he ends up writing, It eases my mind to visit. Truly, it’s one of the only places I let myself relax, and—no. No, that won’t do. That will make him sound as though he’s stressed, and he doesn’t want Phil to worry about that. There’s nothing Phil can do about it, and he couldn’t stand it if the admission led his father to think any less of him. He’s not going to—to start complaining to him. That would be ridiculous.

So he scratches the line out and continues on, except then, he writes, I worry that I’m shirking my responsibilities, but then, I’m probably doing that anyway, simply by virtue of not being, and he stops before he can finish that sentence, because, no. Simply, no. He is absolutely not telling Phil that.

He bites his lip. He’s already scratched out enough that he’ll probably need to start an entirely new draft anyway.

He sets the tip of the pen to paper.

I’m exhausted, he writes, but my mind won’t allow me to rest. Too many shadows in too many dark corners, I suppose. Too many thoughts circling. It’s like a hurricane in my head, and I should be in the eye, but I think the storm wall has caught me. I’m tossing in the air, at the wind’s mercy, and I’m afraid of what will happen when I fall.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I ever assumed that I did. And I feel afraid, because my inadequacies are failing everyone around me. I have to protect them, have to keep them safe, but sometimes I close my eyes and see everything aflame, or I see Dream and his friends flooding into the Final Control Room. We were betrayed, there. I’ve never told you this, but we all lost a life. Me, Tommy, Tubbo, and Fundy. I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Somehow, I never thought that dying would be terrifying for me, considering who my mother is, but it is. I was so scared, and I still am.

I think I’m a disappointment. I think that if this country fails, it will be my fault, and it will only be right if I go down with it. My people have little faith in me, and they’re right not to, but I can’t bring myself to step down, because at the end of the day, I’m addicted to the power and responsibility. I’m nothing without it. If I can’t manage this, then how can I deserve the trust and faith that others have placed in me?

Most days, I think that everyone hates me. Most days, I think they’re right to do so. I can’t trust anyone. Not completely, not fully, no matter how much I love them. I feel very alone.

He stops writing. Reads it over. Feels his lips quirk up into a wry smile. He’s certainly not sending that.

But the smile fades away after a moment. He supposes that he hoped writing it all out would make him feel better, but if anything, he feels more tired. Drained. Wrung out. Blank.

He fishes around for a new, unmarred sheet of paper.

Dear Phil, he writes, All is well here in L’Manberg. The city is thriving, and my people are well. I really do want you to visit sometime—but not yet, of course! We’ve been having a spot of trouble with creeper holes lately, and I don’t want that to be your first impression. Between you and me, it’s just a little bit embarrassing.

It’s been a while since I last wrote. I do apologize for that; I don’t know where the time goes. There’s always so much to be doing, and I’m more and more thankful for this chance every day. It’s a lot of fun, having a country of our own, and we’re all working to make it as good as it can be. You should see Niki’s bakery—you haven’t tasted heaven until you’ve tasted something Niki’s baked, I swear. She’s a goddess, really, an essential pillar of our society. Baked goods make the world go round.

Tommy and Tubbo are well, and getting into just as much trouble as usual. Fundy grows up more and more every day. I’m so proud of them all.

Be careful of undead infants, and tell Technoblade I said hello, if you get the chance.

All love,

Wilbur

He sets down his pen and rereads. He’s satisfied with that, and more importantly, Phil will be as well. Now all that’s left is to let the ink dry and—

“Hey, boss man,” Tubbo says, opening the door to his office without knocking. He startles, violently. “How’re things coming?”

His heart shouldn’t be racing. It’s just Tubbo. But he came in without warning, which is—irritating. It’s irritating. That’s what it is. He feels himself flushing, just slightly, but surely it’s annoyance.

“There’s a lot of ‘things’ you could be referring to,” he says. “Are you going to be a little more specific?”

“Nah,” Tubbo says, meandering further into the room. But it’s not a regular meander, it’s a Tubbo sort of meander, which means that he’s here for a purpose. He just doesn’t want to reveal it just yet, or perhaps he’s figuring out how he wants to approach it. “Just wanted to know about general things. Big, vast things. Deep things.”

“Deep things,” he repeats, nodding. “Not much of that going on at the moment. Not a lot of deep things in paperwork.” He pulls the nearest sheet of paper closer to him; technically, that’s what he ought to be doing, not writing letters to a father that’s worlds away. He scans the words; it looks like something complicated about trade, something that sets his head to pounding already. The words swim, like they’re dancing, like they’re taking glee in the way he can’t comprehend them.

“I thought there were lots of deep things in paperwork,” Tubbo says, and he looks back up. “I thought that’s why the print is always so small.”

“Maybe,” he says.

“It makes sense to me,” Tubbo says. “Wilbur, is your hair really white?”

He freezes. “What?”

“Niki said that your hair is turning white,” Tubbo says. “Like an old man’s.”

Anger flares. He thought—he didn’t like that she found out about it, but he at least thought he could trust her with it. Thought that she would keep it to herself, that she wouldn’t let it spread to others, to others that might take it and try to use it as a knife to his jugular. But here is Tubbo, and Tubbo is so obviously staring at his hair, eyes flicking across his forehead and around his ears, and he won’t see anything. He double-checked when he arrived at the office; all of the white is under his hat. But he doesn’t like that Tubbo is looking, that Tubbo is actively trying to see, that Tubbo is treating him like some kind of curiosity, and that Tubbo surely must have some sort of opinion and that opinion cannot be anything but—

“Niki said that hair can turn grey or white if a person is very stressed,” Tubbo says, casually. “Are you very stressed, Wilbur?”

Oh—oh, fuck. Is that actually a thing that happens?

“I told her, it was a bad dye job,” he mutters, glancing back down at his paper. The words remain incomprehensible, but he’s not focusing on it. He nudges his pen with his finger, latching onto the light clicking sound it makes as it rolls and then comes to rest.

“Yeah?” Tubbo asks doubtfully. “What, were you trying to dye your hair white?”

He grits his teeth. “Was there something you needed, Tubbo?”

“Nothing I needed, really,” Tubbo answers. “I just wanted to see how you’ve been doing. Seems like forever since you came out of this office. Do you live in here now or something?” He keeps talking before Wilbur can reply, which is just as well, since he might as well live here, considering the state of his room. “And I think I’ve got a new design for a TNT cannon. Kind of streamlined, you might say, if you wanted to check it out. But I think you should just come and hang out with me and Tommy sometime. You never really do that anymore.”

He has a few feelings about TNT cannons. He doesn’t think about TNT too often, because when he does, his mind fills with fire and smoke, and his heart starts beating faster, climbing into his throat, and he wants to run, wants to run far and fast and away, wants to sit and shake until his body can’t move anymore, even when he knows very well that nothing around him is exploding, that his country is secure and his friends are safe. But some days, he can’t so much as smell smoke without a memory rising up to overwhelm him.

Once, he found himself zoning out in the middle of a conversation, a nearby campfire taking him far away from himself, and be barely returned in time to cover for his lapse.

He’s not a fan of TNT cannons, and he can’t bring himself to pretend to be, not even for the sake of Tubbo’s enthusiasm. And—

Hanging out with him and Tommy sounds nice. He misses them, he admits, and some part of him misses the old days, the first days and weeks and months on the server, when it was them and a dream and his fingers dancing on the frets of his guitar, his voice strong and steady and hopes high on the wind, words ready at his lips and Tommy a force of chaos at his back and Tubbo clever and quick by his side, and he just—misses it. Misses them. Misses it all, misses the days before so much was riding on his shoulders.

But he hasn’t the time.

“I’m sorry, Tubbo,” he says, and tries on a smile. “I’m a bit busy right now. Take a rain check?”

“Sure,” Tubbo says, and shrugs. “Later, then. You say that a lot, though, do you know that?”

He winces. Tubbo smiles. He means no harm. Probably. He thinks he would know if Tubbo meant him harm.

And then, Tubbo leaves, and the tension leaves him all in a rush, leaving him—exhausted. Exhausted, and near tears, for some reason, but he blinks those back. That can wait. He doesn’t cry in his office. That’s unprofessional; anyone could walk in on him, and then where would he be?

What was he doing before Tubbo came in?

Right. The letter. He glances it over, scoops it up, and tucks it away in an envelope. He’ll chuck it at the next crow he sees.

---

It’s Tommy who barges in next, a day later, though at least this time, he’s somewhat expecting it. Because if Tubbo knows, then Tommy knows. That is simply the way of the world. He has a difficult time imagining anything ever coming between those two, even information that would be better kept to oneself.

“Why the fuck is Tubbo going on about your hair, then?” Tommy says, with no preamble, and despite himself, Wilbur smiles. That’s Tommy, all the subtlety of a charging bull. And the question is just as irritating as it was yesterday when it came from Tubbo, but he’s more prepared for it this time. He looks up from his work—work that he’s actually doing, at the moment, and he feels rather proud of himself for it—and meets Tommy’s gaze squarely.

“I’ve had an unfortunate encounter with some hair dye,” he says. “The hair dye won.”

“What the fuck?” Tommy says, but there’s already a laugh in his eyes. Good. Tommy is fairly easily deflected, he’s learned. Because Tommy looks up to him, he knows, and that means he’ll willfully look away from any evidence suggesting that perhaps he is not worthy of admiration after all.

It makes him sick, the way he’s thinking about it. Makes him feel like he’s using Tommy, somehow, taking advantage of his affection, when really, that’s the last thing he wants to do. Tommy is his little brother, his little brother by choice, by years spent on the road together, by hushed conversations in the dead of night as the stars bear witness, by all the little intricacies they’ve learned about each other as time continues to pass. Tommy is his little brother, which means it’s his job to protect him, as best he can. He’s done a piss-poor job of that lately. Tommy only has one life left now.

So he can’t fail him again. And perhaps it’s selfish of him, but he doesn’t want Tommy to think he’s failed, either. If it ever turns out that Tommy hates him, he thinks it might kill him.

“Can I see?” Tommy asks, and he prepared for this, too, braced for it. With a long-suffering sigh, he sweeps his hat off his head and angles his face forward, letting Tommy take a good look.

“Satisfied?” he asks.

“Holy shit,” Tommy says. “How the fuck did you manage that?”

“Very impressively,” he says, and puts his hat back on. He’s sure to tuck all the white back under it. It’s a practiced motion, by now. “Or perhaps not very impressively, as it were.”

“Well, it looks sick,” Tommy says, and Wilbur glances at him immediately. He doesn’t seem like he’s lying. He seems almost—impressed? But he sees him looking right away, and immediately backtracks. “Sick as in disgusting, obviously. It makes you look old. Like an old, old man.”

Tommy’s joking, of course, is all bluster and smoke, no fire. But something in his chest stings, and he realizes that the words hurt, and more than that, they hurt because it’s an echo of what he tells himself. He doesn’t like to look in the mirror anymore—though he never did to begin with, actually—but he is well aware of what he looks like. The white hair is just one more symbol of his failing faith, his lack of ability to handle the job that he set himself out to take in the first place. He should be able to do this, and yet, he can’t, and the white hair—well.

After what Tubbo said, it can only mean that he’s weak. Physical proof of his incompetence. That’s really the only way to look at it.

“Shut the fuck up, child,” he says. “Why don’t you go and find a juice box to drink?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Tommy says, and the song and dance is familiar. Tommy rolls his eyes at him—the disrespect in this house is unbelievable—but he turns to go, and that means that Wilbur’s won.

What he’s won, he doesn’t know. Some more self-disgust, maybe. That’s what it feels like.

Lying to Niki. Lying to Tubbo. And now, lying to Tommy. What a stunning specimen of humanity he is. Working through them all like he has a checklist.

And then, Tommy stops in the doorway and looks back.

“Wilbur?” he asks. “You really are alright, aren’t you?”

And that gives him pause. Tommy’s not supposed to ask him that question. If anything, he’s the one who’s supposed to be asking Tommy that.

“It’s just that,” Tommy continues, “I don’t see you around so much, these days. Except for when there’s a problem, and you come out to try and solve it with, with your words and shit. Diplomatic shit, innit? You do that, but you don’t just—you never come to just spend time with us anymore, like how it used to be. And I just sort of miss that, you know? So I was thinking that maybe we could try and do that again, sometime soon? Just, hanging out, like the good old days?”

The good old days.

He doesn’t quite have the heart to tell Tommy that the good old days are long over, that they have been long over since the day Sapnap came to arrest them all for starting a drug empire and the forest around them was set ablaze, since the day they declared independence from the Dream SMP, since the day he in all his naivety declared that all they had to do was ignore the conflict and it would pass them by, since the day he was proven so very, very wrong. Since the day he learned that as much as he values his words, his diplomacy, his efforts toward nonviolence, some people only recognize power in iron and steel.

Since the day he watched his men, his comrades, his family die around him, and knew that he led them to that fate. Since the day Tommy traded his life and then his discs for their independence, and he knew that he couldn’t do a thing to help.

The good old days are long gone. The good old days belong to a different version of him, one that was young and hopeful and stupid, one that had no idea what he was getting into. And he likes to think that he’s still hopeful, that he still strives for a better future, but—

He’s learned. Nothing comes easy, here. There will be no more halcyon summers. The days are getting colder, and there will be no more rest.

“Sure,” he says, and this lie tastes far more bitter than all the rest. “I’d like that.” He gestures at his desk. “I’ve been really busy, but I would like to spend time with you. I’ll let you know when I can, alright?”

And Tommy believes him. He sees it in his answering smile, and he hates himself.

“Sounds good, big man,” Tommy says. “See you later then, yeah?”

“See you later,” Wilbur agrees, and then Tommy, too, is gone. He’s alone in his office, with his duties and his thoughts, and neither of them are kind.

Not that he thinks himself deserving of much kindness.

---

He waits two weeks before visiting the bakery again. It’s not completely intentional; he doesn’t have much time to get away anyhow. But part of it certainly is. He doesn’t want to come again so soon, doesn’t want to know how Niki’s going to look at him, doesn’t want her to poke and prod at something that isn’t important, that is a minor, irritating detail. He doesn’t want to discuss it, and he thinks that Niki might try, so he stays away.

But not forever. He can’t bring himself to take so drastic a step, even if his visits are a bit of a distraction. One that, perhaps, he can’t really afford.

So he steps inside and immediately wants to backtrack, because Niki’s not the only one here. Fundy and Jack Manifold are both sat at the counter, and both of them are looking at him now, having swiveled in their seats to watch his entrance. And that means he can’t leave, because if he leaves without saying anything, they’ll ask him why he did that, and he’ll have to make up something to avoid admitting that he’s been a little bit terrified of interacting with people lately. Because absolutely no one can know that.

Because it’s stupid. Pathetic. He’s pathetic, and he’s become quite accustomed to that word. It seems to live in his head now, like it’s made a nest in his brain, a little roost. Pathetic. Everything he does feels pathetic to him, and probably to everyone else around him.

“Oh,” Jack Manifold says. “Hi, Wilbur. Didn’t expect you in.”

Fundy doesn’t say anything. Just blinks at him, tail swishing. He finds that he doesn’t know what to say. But he needs to think of something, some reason for being here, and if he can manage it, some excuse for extricating himself quickly. The silence has gone on just a little too long, and he’s been standing in the doorway for a full five seconds now, and he needs to come in completely because it’s weird, what he’s doing, and they’re going to call him on it.

And then, Niki pops her head between the two of them, leaning far over the counter, resting practically all of her weight on it.

“Wil!” she says, and smiles. “I’m glad you came! I’m making honey bread, and I know you like that.”

And just like that, he relaxes. Not completely, but to ask that of him would be to expect the impossible. It’s enough.

“I do,” he agrees, and steps further in, letting the door close behind him. “Seems I have good timing.”

The tension in the air—imagined or real? He’s not sure—dissipates. Jack grins at him, raising a glass of—probably not alcohol? He doesn’t think Niki keeps alcohol stocked in here, or at least, none other than the cooking variety. Might be milk. And Fundy still doesn’t say anything, but his tail keeps twitching, and his eyes keep darting between him and the empty stool next to him, and he really hopes that’s an invitation, because that’s how he’s going to take it.

He slides onto the seat, letting his coat fall behind him. His hat, he keeps on. He’s not laying his face on the counter today. Not with other people here. He probably wouldn’t have anyway, tempting though it is. He always feels sleepier in here. It’s probably the warmth.

But he won’t fall asleep.

Niki’s gone back over to the ovens, inspecting her bread. He can smell it on the air, fresh and sweet, and his stomach twists. Has he eaten today? He’s not sure that he has. Though he definitely did yesterday—evening. He thinks. Definitely. A couple apple slices shoved in his mouth, swallowed without really tasting them. But it counts.

“What have you two been up to lately?” he asks. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not too much,” Jack Manifold answers easily. “Mostly been hanging around Tommy and Tubbo. Getting into mischief, you might say. Nothing too serious or anything!” he is quick to add, seemingly remembering exactly who he’s talking to. “Nothing—I mean, nothing illegal, no, sir. Not us. But, you know, it’d probably be best not to share the details.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Fair enough,” he says. “As long as it’s not something that I’m going to have to clean up later.”

“We’ve already cleaned up,” Jack says.

“Good.” He looks at Fundy, and affection blooms in his chest, sudden, almost overpowering. His boy’s grown up of late. He can barely remember it happening. It seems that only yesterday he came up knee-high, and now, he’s a man in his own right. But still his little champion, always. “How about you? I know we haven’t been fishing yet. I’m sorry—you know that’s the first thing on my list when I finally get a bit of time.”

Fundy glances away. “I know,” he says. “I’ve been fine.”

“I’m glad,” he says, and Niki saves him from having to say anything else—though why he thinks of it as a rescue, he isn’t sure—by walking back over and placing some bread on the counter before them.

“Fresh from the oven,” she says, “so it’s hot. Be careful.”

It smells nothing short of divine. Niki smiles, pleased, as Fundy and Jack reach for a piece right away, and he isn’t far behind them. Though he tries to be a little more neat about it than the other two are being. The way they’re digging in, he’d think that they’re starving. Frankly, he can’t blame them for it, not when it’s Niki’s food on the line, but he still tries to have a bit more decorum.

“Niki,” Jack says, mouth full, “you are an angel among mere mortals.” Fundy doesn’t say anything, but his tail is swishing happily.

Niki rolls her eyes, and takes a bit of bread for herself. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she admonishes. “But thank you, Jack.” And then, her gaze drifts to him, and he finds himself stiffening. For no reason. It’s Niki. It’s just Niki. He trusts Niki. She’s basically his best friend, and he’s comfortable here. He is. This is a place of safety, as much as there are such places to be found. Safety, true safety, is not a thing that exists, not really. But here is as close as he can get to it.

Why can’t he let himself unwind?

Is it because Jack and Fundy are here? He hopes not; that wouldn’t be fair to them. They are his countrymen, his citizens, and more than that, Fundy is his son. What would that say about him as a parent, if being around his child makes him nervous? Not just nervous in a I-hope-I-don’t-fuck-up-my-kid way, but in a I-don’t-feel-safe-here way?

But his shoulders are stiff, slightly hunched. He can’t force them down. So he has to hope it’s not too obvious, that the lines of his coat disguise the hard set of his posture, a stance that indicates he thinks there’s a threat, if they know how to read him right. Which they shouldn’t. They shouldn’t.

“How about you, Wil?” Niki asks, and he takes another bite of bread. Small, so as not to get crumbs everywhere, and he swallows before answering.

“It’s as good as always,” he says. “Do I have to say it?” Though it sits heavier in his stomach than usual, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m glad,” she says. “It’s been a little while since the last time I saw you. You are eating properly, right?”

It’s concern, not an accusation, no matter how misplaced. The question shouldn’t raise his hackles. But it does, and all that’s left is to keep it from showing, to keep it from his voice.

“Of course I am,” he says, and before he can get anything else out, Jack laughs.

“Wouldn’t do to have our president starving on us,” he says, and his voice is light, full of laughter, joking. It’s a good thing that Jack feels comfortable enough to joke with him. He’s glad, because—he doesn’t know him all that well, definitely doesn’t trust him, not yet, but Tommy and Tubbo seem to like him, so it’s good that he’s fitting in, that he’s found a place, that he likes it here. Though liking isn’t always enough to stop the betrayal before it comes. He ought to keep a closer eye on him, just in case, but—that wasn’t the point of this.

The point is that, joking or not, Jack is completely right. It wouldn’t do to let his eating habits interfere with his duties. He’s already weak; is he going to add malnutrition on top of that? Never mind that he often doesn’t feel like eating, these days, that he really only has an appetite when he’s here, in the bakery. He needs to keep his strength up so that he can get things done. And he can’t force himself to sleep, so that problem is out of his hands, but he can force himself to eat.

Jack couldn’t have known what he was prodding at, of course, when he made the comment. But he takes another bite of bread anyway. It’s tough to swallow, even though it tastes delicious. He doesn’t know why. He’s never had an issue eating Niki’s food before. He hopes this doesn’t become a pattern.

And he hopes it’s not because there’s other people here. It would be an explanation, at least, but not one he likes. The implications there wouldn’t be—good, to say the least.

“Jack,” Niki says quietly, admonishingly, and he wishes she wouldn’t, because he doesn’t want Jack to examine what he’s just said, to analyze it as anything other than a joke. So he musters a smile, a quirk of an eyebrow, and Jack grins back at him.

Safe territory. Level ground, even footing. Relatively speaking.

And then Fundy pipes up.

“Hey, Wil,” he says, and Wilbur wonders, suddenly, where he picked up the habit of calling him ‘Wil’ or ‘Wilbur’ more often than he calls him ‘dad’. Not that he minds it, but it’s curious. Could it be from him? He himself calls Phil by his name more often than not. Perhaps it’s genetic. But then Fundy continues, “Is your hair actually, like, turning white?” and Wilbur is no longer interested in thinking about little details like that.

He’s tense again. Tense enough now that they can probably see it, even without looking too hard.

“Why is everyone so interested in my hair, lately?” he asks. “It’s just hair. Grows out of everyone’s head. Except for yours, Jack Manifold.”

“Point,” Jack Manifold agrees, but there is a gleam in his eyes, behind his glasses, that says he too is interested in the direction this conversation has taken. Not ideal.

“It’s just that,” Fundy persists, “it’s a little bit weird, right? If it’s turning white like that? Is that normal?”

“It’s not ‘turning white,’” he says, which might be a mistake, because he’s lying through his teeth, now. “It was a bad hair dye incident. Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

Jack laughs. “How’d you manage to fuck up hair dye that badly?” he asks, and the way the question is phrased is irritating; he doesn’t want Jack to start thinking he’s an incompetent fool who can’t dye his own hair properly. But he’ll also take this line of questioning over the other, so perhaps it balances out.

Except then, Niki splays both her hands on the counter. Any earlier levity that she had is now gone.

“Is that so?” she says. “That’s not what you told me.”

His heart is pounding again. He really, really hopes that he’s not developing a condition of some kind. He’d know if he were having a heart attack, wouldn’t he?

“I’m pretty sure that is what I told you,” he says, and Niki shakes her head.

“No, you told me that it wasn’t dye, when I asked,” she says. “And then you said that it was, but you were lying.”

She doesn’t sound angry, which is perhaps the worst thing about all of this. She doesn’t sound angry that he’s lied to her, taken advantage of her trust and fed her a blatant falsehood. Her voice is calm, matter-of-fact, and there’s a glimmer in her eyes that isn’t annoyance or betrayal or any of the other emotions she should be feeling. Instead, it’s concern. That blasted concern again.

He doesn’t deserve it.

“Really?” Jack says. “Huh. Well, what’d you do that for, then?”

He’s changed his mind. The worst thing about all of this is that there are other people present. That he’s not alone with Niki, which would still be an undesirable situation, but manageable. Jack Manifold and Fundy are both here, staring at him, expecting answers that he doesn’t want to give, and Fundy—

Why is his son looking at him like that?

“Why are you all so pressed about my hair?” he demands. “It’s hair. You don’t even see it.”

“I mean,” Fundy says, “like I said, it’s just kind of weird, right? I don’t think hair just turns white for no reason. Not unless you’re really old, which you’re not, I don’t think. So I guess we’re just curious about what the reason is.”

He doesn’t want to talk about this. This isn’t why he came here. This place, this bakery, these people, it’s supposed to be an escape from his responsibilities. The only one he allows himself, even though he knows he shouldn’t. It’s the one place where he doesn’t have to think about his own failings, where he can relax a bit and let himself be, if only for a little while, but here they are, pushing him on this, and he doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want to be reminded of his incompetency. And they don’t know, can’t know exactly what they’re doing to him, but—

He slams his hand against the counter, sudden emotion boiling over. They all jump, the three of them. Niki’s eyes widen, and Fundy’s ears press back against his skull.

“Then don’t be,” he snaps. “Leave it the fuck alone. It’s really none of your business, is it?”

There is a moment of silence. The only sound is the crackling of furnaces.

“I guess not,” Fundy mutters, and he realizes what he’s done.

He’s just snapped, lashed out at his friends, his countrymen, his son, and for what? Because their questions are stressing him out? He should have turned around and left the moment he saw them in here, no matter what they would have thought, because this is worse. This is so much worse than that, and now he feels like an absolute shitstain of a human being. What kind of person gets so fucking upset over questions about his hair?

“I’m sorry,” he says. Too little, too late. “I didn’t mean—” Fundy is looking at him. They all are, and suddenly, he can’t bear it. Not any longer. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot of work to do. I really should be going. Thank you for the bread, Niki.”

It’s painfully transparent, and he is very aware of the fact that it’s the exact same way that he rushed out of the bakery when he was last here. Except this time, there are more people here to witness his shame.

History repeats itself, he thinks, bitterly. History repeats itself, and it only gets worse.

But he’s not staying here. He can’t. He just—can’t. Because he feels very upset over such a stupid little thing, and he’s upset that he’s upset, and now he’s upset other people, and he can’t stay here any longer, because if he does, the gods only know what’s going to fly out of his mouth next.

“Wil, please stay,” Niki says, but he’s already standing.

“Be seeing you all,” he says, and the door isn’t far, but it feels like miles, because he can feel their stares burning into his back as he makes his exit.

“Aw, wait, Wilbur, you don’t have to—” Jack starts, but he’s out the door. He’s out the door, and he lets it swing shut behind him, and the words cut off. He doesn’t have to listen to them. So if Fundy says anything, he doesn’t hear it, and he wonders why that makes him feel so much worse. Worse than he does already, which is no mean feat.

His stomach growls. He’s hungry. How many bites of bread did he take? Two? Three? Not enough to be filling. But somehow, he already knows that if he seeks food elsewhere, it will turn to ash in his mouth. And he can’t go back, not after the scene he’s just made, so he’s going to have to be hungry. Which is fine. He’s fine. He’s fine, even though he’s just fucked everything up, and he rather thinks he might not be able to show Niki his face ever again. So, no more bakery. No more safe place, and wow, he is being a dramatic fuck, isn’t he? But he can’t help himself. He never can.

He should have known better from the start. There is no such thing as safety. No exceptions. He should have tried harder to remember that. And he’s not angry, not anymore, not really, because they weren’t aware of the hornets’ nest they were stirring up; rather, he’s angry at himself, for losing control, for letting himself react, for not being able to handle a simple question with the poise and calm that is expected of him as president.

For being weak. That’s what it comes down to. His weakness. Persistent, and now, persistently on display.

He does a lot of screaming into his pillow that night. It doesn’t help. And sleep, it seems, is determined to continue its avoidance, so the night stretches long, and even his tears eventually run dry.

---

The next day, Niki comes to his office.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Somebody to You

Request: Hi can I request a Cedric Diggory x Gryffindor reader where they’re actually the best of friends and she has liked him for years but she lost hope because it’s like he never sees her y’know? so when Cedric starts to pursue Cho, she decided that it’s time for her to move on but when Cedric saw her getting close to someone else he just got really jealous and possessive and confess that he actually like her too, he just doesn’t want to ruin their friendship if it doesn’t work out? thanks! - @elia-the-bibliophile

A/N: I had so much fun with this! I’m really liking writing for Cedric, but I think I need to work some kinks out with how I write his character. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy and I hope I have done your request justice! Title is from The Vamps - Somebody to You because I am a sucker for pop.

Warnings: unrequited love, crying, a bit of drama, but there is fluff

Word count: 4.6k

Cedric Diggory was like sunshine; warm and bright.

For years, he had been your best friend. Your families had always been close, being the nearest wizarding family to their home after the Weasley’s. You and Cedric had bonded from such a young age; making pinkie promises under the large oak tree in your back garden, promising how you would always remain friends. That nothing could tear you apart; not even being sorted into separate houses would keep the two of you away from each other.

The fates decided for you early on that you would fall in love with Cedric. You felt the cliché; falling in love with your best friend and knowing it was unrequited. Cedric simultaneously made your heart race and break. He was so impossibly wonderful and caring that a simple look from him had your heartbeat increasing something worrying. But in the same minute, the small voice in your head, reminding you that he didn’t truly see you, had your heart breaking all over again. In his presence, you felt like Icarus flying too close to the sun, to feel the warmth on your face, not realising all the while that the wax of your wings are melting and you’re about to fall, fall, fall.

For so long you had pined for your best friend. With each hug; each take of the hand and each kiss pressed to the side of your head, your heart filled with hope that he was feeling the same as you. You were hopelessly praying that one day he would look at you and for it fall into place. For him to take you into his arms and whisper promises of love and forever.

But it was nothing more than a dream.

You knew of his feelings for her; he wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to watching her from across the Great Hall or classroom. And you understood; you understood it all. How could you compare? Cho Chang was something else entirely; both her and Cedric would be the ultimate power couple for Hogwarts.

It would only be a matter of time before they’re hanging from each other’s arm as you would watch from the side line. Seemingly destined to always love him from a distance.

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

Cedric bounds up to you in the Hufflepuff common room on a Wednesday afternoon, calling your name and for your attention. Cedric always joked that you would rather be a Hufflepuff than a Gryffindor with all the time you spent in their common room.

“What is it?” You ask, looking up from your essay plan.

“I asked her, and she said yes!”

“You asked who? To where?”

“I asked Cho to the Yule Ball and she said yes.” Cedric grins at you, looking so happy at this news.

“That’s great, Cedric!” You crow, smiling at him, silently praying he wouldn’t see how your heart was crumbling inside your chest.

Your heart sinks at his news; some part of you hoped that he would ask you to the Ball. That he would take you and show you off to the whole school, but like a lot of things, it was only a dream. You keep the smile pasted on your face as he starts to babble about dress robes and coordinating outfits. Your heart urges you to confess; to confess every feeling you’ve ever had for him.

But he looks so happy. You couldn’t tell him now; you wouldn’t break that.

----------

Being in the same room as them was becoming painful. You could feel your heart crack in your chest as you watched Cedric open the Yule Ball with Cho, looking at her as if she were the only girl in the world for him. How could he not? She looked incredible; she looked like everything he could possibly want.

How your heart yearned for him to look at you that way. How it broke when you realise that he never will.

You gather your skirt in your hands, leaving the Great Hall. The scene too painful for you stay there any longer. It was masochism at this point; you were hurting yourself intentionally by staying there longer.

You pause at the stairs; sitting down to gather your breath but they soon turn to sobs. You grab at your chest with both hands as if you could physically stop the feeling of your heart cleaving itself in two.

The sound of footsteps has you wiping your eyes, but you recognise the sweet perfume of your friend Rose. She sits next to you, holding your hand tightly and directing your head onto her shoulder. She wasn’t bothered about this dance anyway; you needed her more than she needed to waltz with a boy that was going to try and kiss her later.

“Loving him shouldn’t have to hurt so much.” You cry into the shoulder of your friend, Rose.

“It shouldn’t.”

“I really thought…” You trail off, your mind finishing the sentence. I really thought something would happen.

“I know you did,” Rose murmurs, brushing the hair away from your face.

Rose is your anchor that night, letting you sob into her shoulder for another minute before helping you to your room. The sobs have you bent in two; you hold a hand to your mouth, trying to keep them in, to keep them silent but it doesn’t help.

Rose helps you out of your dress, handing you your comfiest pyjamas before helping you get into the bed. The tears are slower now, having exhausted yourself. Rose brushes your hair back with a gentle hand, lulling you to a light sleep. You know though, that you won’t be sleeping much tonight, the image of Cedric and Cho burned onto the back of your eyelids would surely haunt your dreams tonight.

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

Cedric notices your absence from the Yule Ball – of course he does. His mind had been on you since you descended the stairs in your mauve velvet dress, holding hands with Rose, sending his mind into overdrive and his heart racing.

Cho had to pull his attention back to her multiple times but soon gave up when she could see how occupied he was.

He hadn’t seen you leave; he didn’t know where you had gone. So he looks for Rose, knowing that you would be close by if he could find her. But he can’t and he starts to panic.

He spins Cho out before drawing her back into his arms; all the time wishing it was you he was holding close to his body. Cedric had wanted to ask you to the Yule Ball, but he couldn’t. In the end, he asked Cho. He had planted the seeds the week before he asked with longing gazes. She had said yes, but he couldn’t help but want it to be you who said yes to him.

Cedric was terrified. He was a current champion in the Triwizard Tournament – the most horrifying of challenges for witches and wizards alike but he was simply more petrified of confessing his feelings for you, to you.

He would rather face his dragon again, a thousand times over, than face your rejection.

He’s loved you all his life. He just didn’t know it until the end of Fourth Year when you smiled at him over the rim of your Butterbeer glass and something within him clicked into place.

He was just so scared of ruining your friendship. If he lost you as a friend because of his feelings, he doesn’t know what he would do. The fear of rejection and loss keeping his confession secret.

For now, you both teeter on the edge of a knife blade. Neither one willing to confess their feelings first, but their touches would linger, and their stares would last that little bit longer – eyes filled with the adoration and love they feel.

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

Rose is on eggshells around you the morning after the Yule Ball; worried about what could possibly set you off again. Robotically, you get dressed and head to breakfast, plastering a serene smile on your face before you enter the Great Hall in case you into Cedric, or Cho, or worse, both of them.

You’re buttering a piece of toast when Rose asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thank you for being there last night.”

“I didn’t want to leave you; I’ve never seen you like that before.”

You point your buttery knife at her, “And you won’t ever again. Want to know why?”

Rose raises an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Because as of right now, I am going to get over Cedric Diggory.”

Rose’s eyes widen, “Really?”

You nod, biting into your toast, “Really. I have loved him for so long and it’s come to nothing. It’s time I move on.”

Cedric sits down next to you a moment later, reaching for the pumpkin juice, “Where did you go last night? I tried to look for you, but I couldn’t find you.”

You meet Rose’s eyes, “I didn’t feel too well so Rose brought me back to the common room.”

“You should’ve said something, I’d have taken you back.”

“Cedric, you’re a Triwizard Champion, they needed you there. I was fine without you, I had Rose.” You say, smiling at the girl as she nods affirming your story.

Cedric frowns, not happy with your answer. He places a hand on your forehead and then your cheek, checking your temperature. You melt into his touch before turning rigid. Reminded of your vow from only a moment ago, you pull away, chuckling, “You’re a mother hen, Ced, I swear. I’m fine, I feel a lot better now.”

You turn your attention back to your breakfast, picking at the food on your plate. The need to get over Cedric was now your most important aim. Your heart had been broken and smashed beyond recognition. It was now time to build it back up again.

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

It’s hard at first; getting over Cedric because he makes it so difficult. It’s as if he dazzles you with the simplest of movements such as running a hand through his hair or grinning at you or turning a page in a book with a focused look on his face. Each action had you out of breath and your heart racing before you pulled yourself back and reminded your overly hormonal self what you were aiming to do.

Cedric notices your apprehension around him, asking you one morning, “Are you okay?”

You frown, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Cedric fixes you with a look, “You’re pulling away from me and I don’t know why.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, “I’m just going through some things right now, Ced, but I’m okay, I promise.”

“You’re sure?” Concern overtaking his features.

“I’m sure,” You say, taking his hand in yours, “Now, let’s get some breakfast, I’m starving.”

Cedric laughs, leading you to the Great Hall. He’s still worried though; he’s noticed your distance, not being as open with him. Not pulling him in for hugs as often. Your friendship mattered so much to him; it being over a decade old. He treasured your friendship and your presence in his life more than he treasures his place on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Over the last week, he had felt you pull yourself far away from him, building a wall around you that he had no hope of tearing down.

Cedric’s heart falls as he begins to realise that he’s losing you.

----------

Michael Rhen approaches you at breakfast a week after the Yule Ball. A week after your promise to get over Cedric.

You’re sitting with Cedric as Michael joins you at the table, “Morning, (Y/N).”

“Hi Michael,” You greet, smiling. “How are you?”

“I’m good. I was hoping you could help me though.”

“I’ll try my very best.”

Michael smiles, “I’m having trouble with our History of Magic essay – the one about witch trials in Yorkshire and Lancashire. And I know that you’re the best at this subject, so I was wondering if you help me?”

You nod, “Of course. Do you want to meet in the library tomorrow evening after dinner?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

“It’s no problem, I’ll see you in the library tomorrow.”

“It’s a date.” Michael grins, getting up to leave.

You shake your head amused.

Cedric was not amused. He was not accustomed to the ugly emotion growing in his gut. Jealousy was rearing its ugly head and Cedric was having a hard time keeping a lid on it.

“I didn’t know you tutor now,” He says innocently.

“I don’t.” comes your reply.

Cedric frowns, “Then why?”

“Well, we have OWLs coming up even if you are exempt, Mr. Champion, so I’ll take all the extra studying I can get and also: why not? Michael’s nice, we get along just fine.”

“I don’t know… something seems off about him.”

“Oh, you’re just nit-picking now.” You say, hushing him. “It’s only an essay.”

But the both of you have the same thought: what if it could be more?

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

The library was always quiet. Madame Pince controlling the volume with an iron fist.

You hurry to the back of the library where you know the relevant books are. You place your quill and ink on the table along with some parchment before wandering to the shelves. Your fingers run across the worn spines of the books; thinking of the thousands of students before having done the same action.

Footsteps behind you alert you to Michael’s presence. You turn to greet him with a smile on your face.

Michael smiles in return, taking a seat at the table, “Hey, (Y/N). Thank you for doing this.”

You pull a couple of books from the shelf before sitting across from him, “It’s no problem, Michael. Now what is it exactly that you need help on?”

Michael bites his lip, looking sheepish, “All of it? How much time do you have?”

You chuckle, “Until curfew. I hope you’re ready to take notes. This is a whistle stop tour.”

In no time at all, Michael had a good understanding of the differences between the different types of witchcraft practiced in Yorkshire and Lancashire as well as a decent understanding of rival families and why there is still tension in the counties today as a result of it.

Michael puts his quill down, flexing his fingers to free himself of the cramp, “Wow. You really know a lot on this subject.”

You shrug, “My family originally hail from Yorkshire. I made it my mission to know as much as I could about my ancestors.”

The grand clock above the entrance hall begins to chime signalling curfew and the end of your study session with Michael.

“That’s all we have time for, unfortunately. If you need any more help, I’m happy to help.”

“There is something you could help me with…” Michael starts.

“Oh?” You ask, pausing in stacking the books for the shelves.

“Would you like to come to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?” He says in one rushed breath.

You hesitate; your mind flashes to Cedric, thinking of all the Hogsmeade weekends you had spent with him, ambling from shop to shop and generally enjoying each other’s company.

Michael starts to look worried. But before he can say anything, you ask, “As a date?”

Michael looks away flustered, “I was hoping it would be, yes.”

You’re taken back again. Your mind flashing back to Cedric, your heart wishing it was him asking and not Michael. No, you chide yourself, he has Cho now… though you hadn’t seen him with her since the Yule Ball… NO. Michael was asking you out, he was genuinely interested in you. You think of your promise; he was handing you the opportunity to start getting over Cedric.  

You smile at Michael, “I’d like that. I’ll meet you in the courtyard at nine?”

Michael’s answering grin is blinding. “That’s great. I’ll see you then.” He even goes so far to drop a kiss to your cheek before leaving the library with a whispered goodbye.

-------

The Hufflepuff common room is silent when you return from the library. The majority of students had retired to their beds, but the odd straggler remains in the common room. You recognise them all as classmates as they continue to revise for the upcoming exams. Curfew had come and gone but you couldn't finish your day without seeing Cedric.

Cedric is laid across one of the couches, an arm tucked underneath his head; eyes pouring over one of his books. You watch him fondly. His exemption from the exams made him able to catch up on the books you had given to him to read.

You tap his thigh, silently telling him to shift, “What are still doing up?”

He moves into a sitting position, shrugging, “I was waiting for you. I knew you’d come see me.”

Your heart softens at his whispered confession. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Did Michael complete his essay?”

You smile, “He did, and he asked me out on a date.”

“He did what?” He asks, turning to you with wide eyes.

“Don’t look so shocked, Cedric. Just because you don’t find me attractive doesn’t mean that others don’t.” You say, hurt.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

You look down at your hands, fingers fiddling with themselves. Cedric sighs, placing a finger under your chin, lifting your face to look you in the eyes. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” he repeats.

“How did you mean it then?” You question, your eyes narrowing.

Cedric pulls away, his mouth a thin line, “I just didn’t think he would move that fast.”

“Well he did, and I said yes.”

An awkward silence falls between the two of you. Bodies angled to each other, but eyes focused on the fire as minds begin to wander.

You think of your feelings for the teenager sat next to you. These overwhelming, defining feelings that you hold for him and you wonder whether Michael would be the one to help you move on. Whether Michael could be the one to help you revert back to friendship with Cedric. You wanted to chuckle as your heart whispered how impossible that task would be. You glance at Cedric, curious as to whether he had any clue about how entirely he owned your heart.

You pat his knee, deciding you had thought enough for the night. You hope for a dreamless sleep, “I’m heading up for the night. I’ll see you at breakfast?”

Cedric smiles smally, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You smile in return, walking away from him before his words could settle in your skin. The smile drops from your face as you walk back to the Gryffindor common room; your mind overthinking and your heart breaking that little bit more. 

Cedric watches you walk away, no longer ignoring the deep ache in his chest. He was starting to lose you; the distance between the two of you increasing. As Cedric sits there, book open on his lap, watching the spot where he had last seen you, he promises himself that he would not lose you from his life.

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

Cedric found it hard to leave you alone over the next week. Finding any and all excuses to sit next to you; to touch you. The jealousy he felt over your date with Michael had him interjecting into conversations and disturbing seating plans so he could be near you. He waited for you to pull away, for you to tell him off, but you never did. Hope bloomed in his stomach and in his chest at that.

Your heart basked in the attention; wanting nothing more than Cedric to wrap his arm around that little bit tighter and for him to distract you from another conversation. Your mind berated your heart for enjoying this too much; the small voice in the back of your mind reminded you constantly that you were supposed to be moving on from him and here he was putting a spanner in the plan.

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

Bounding down the stairs to the common room, you pause in front of a mirror to check how your hair looks. Deciding it was good enough, you enter the Gryffindor common room surprised to find Cedric sat on the couch, staring away into nothing.

You tap him on the shoulder, “Are you okay? You look to be lost in your thoughts.”

He hums before answering, “I’m good. You look lovely by the way.”

You look down at your outfit, brushing out invisible creases; heart racing from his compliment. You internally scold yourself for reacting this way. “Thank you, Cedric.”

Cedric nods. His heart breaks as he sees how you’ve dressed up for Michael and how happy you look to be meeting him. He wishes he had told you earlier; confessed to you before the Yule Ball how much he adored you because if he had, he would be the one to be walking you to Hogsmeade, to be sharing a butterbeer, to be whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Instead, he’s resigned himself to the fact that after today, he will have lost you forever.

He watches you check your watch, brushing your fingers through your hair one more time before going to meet Michael.

He decides to take the moment to plead, to beg you not to go. To stay with him; spend the day with him so he can gather the courage to tell you how he feels. How he has felt for years but didn’t know until last year and if you would give him the chance, he would spend the rest of his life earning your affection and showing you just how deep his love for you runs.

Cedric grabs your hand, making you turn to face him, “Don’t go,” he pleads.

“I have to, Cedric.” You pull your hand from his grip, rushing out of the common room to meet Michael in the courtyard.

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

The day with Michael had been pleasant. You had walked around Hogsmeade, entering the bookshop and Honeyduke’s to stock up on your stash of cauldron cakes. Michael, ever the gentlemen, had paid for your sweets with a smile and a wink at your protests.

The pit in your stomach was getting larger; you felt awful for not feeling anything more for Michael other than friendship. But your heart would not let you forget the brunette Hufflepuff you had left in the common room with a dejected look on his face.

The conversation with Cedric had played on your mind all day. His face as you left the common room, was printed onto the back of your eyelids. He had look so crestfallen, as if he had accepted some terrible fate. Your chest aches at the memory of it.

Michael takes your hand as he pulls you into The Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer or two. You head to a small table as he goes to the bar for your drinks.

“Thank you.” You say as Michael places a foaming glass in front of you. You immediately take a drink, relishing the sweet butterscotch taste. You wipe your mouth on a napkin before smiling at Michael. “Thank you for today, I’ve had a lot of fun.”

Michael grins, “I have as well. But I think I’ve had more fun than you.”

You run a finger around the rim of your glass, “Michael…” You start, but he cuts you off.

“It’s Cedric, isn’t it?”

You bite your lip, nodding.

“It’s okay, I suspected as much when I first asked you out. It was confirmed when I saw his reaction.”

“His reaction?”

“The possessiveness.”

You nod, remembering it, “I’m really sorry, I thought I could… can we be friends?”

Michael smiles at you, “We can be friends.”

You sigh in relief, “Thank you, Michael.”

“You know he’s jealous.” He states, sipping at his butterbeer.

“Who?”

“Who? Cedric.”

“No, he isn’t.”

“I’m telling you; he totally is.”

You think back to his possessiveness over the last week. He had never been like that; not once over the time you had known him. It only started when Michael had asked you to help with his essay and then asked you out.

Everything clicks into place; you drop your head into your hands with a groan. Michael laughs, “I told you so.”

Michael walks you back to the school and the Hufflepuff common room, making you promise to tell him what happens tomorrow. He squeezes your shoulder before walking away. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation you’re about to have.

Cedric hadn’t moved from where you left him this morning. He remained sat on the leather couch, his eyes on the fire but his mind elsewhere. You throw yourself down beside him. Cedric leans back into the couch; your legs going over his.

Cedric’s fingers draw aimless patterns on your legs as he apologises, “I’m sorry about this morning. I was out of line.”

You nod, “Yes, you were. But I appreciate your apology.”

“Did you have a nice time?” Cedric asks, punishing himself for his actions this morning.

“It was interesting,” You start, “Or at least, Michael told me something interesting.”

“I’m all ears.”

“He told me you were jealous of him, but I denied it of course because if you had feelings for me in any sense you would have told me by now, right?”

Cedric is silent; seeming very focused on the seam of your jeans as he traces a fingertip up it. You repress a shiver at the feel.

“Right, Cedric?” You repeat.

“Michael was right.” Cedric whispers, looking down.

“He was?”

“No, he is. I’m jealous. I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t in the end.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, Ced?”

“I was worried that I would ruin our friendship. We’ve been friends for so long, I thought if I suddenly confessed how I felt, you wouldn’t believe me, and you’d reject me.”

You sigh, “This is a mess.”

Cedric frowns, “What is?”

“We’ve been dancing around each other and being miserable all because we were scared to ruin what we already have.”

“We?”

You fiddle with your fingers, eyes focused on the fire, “I’ve felt jealous too, and heartbroken. I promised myself I would get over you.”

Cedric swallows around the sudden lump in throat, “And have you?”

You sigh, shaking your head, “I don’t think I ever could. I was so destroyed watching you at the Yule Ball with Cho, and I completely understood why you asked as her. She’s gorgeous and comes from a prestigious family. The match works.”

“I asked Cho to the Yule Ball because I panicked. I thought if I asked you, you would see through to my feelings for you. She called things off after the first two dances, she realised that I was looking for you.”

“We’ve both messed up, haven’t we?”

Cedric nods, taking one of your hands in his. “I think we have.”

You point at him, “Alright, naked truth time, Cedric. Are you ready?”

He raises an eyebrow, “As I’ll ever be.”

“Do you like me?”

Cedric blushes, “I think I more than like you. I think I love you.”

“Oh… I didn’t expect that.” You answer, your body warming at his words.

“Your turn: what do you feel for me?”

“I think I love you too.”

“You do?”

You fiddle with your fingers, “Yeah, I don’t know the exact moment it happened. It was just one day that I realised that I was in love with you, but you didn’t see me for so long. All I wanted to be was somebody more to you.”

Cedric closes his eyes as if in pain, “I royally screwed up, I hurt your feelings so badly. Will you ever forgive me?”

You purse your lips. You hold your hand out for him to take, which he does, “On one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You take me on a date.”

He grins, “I can definitely do that. Can I do something before though?”

You raise an eyebrow, “And that is?”

Cedric suddenly becomes shy, “Can I kiss you?”

“I’d really like that.”

Cedric smiles before he leans in.

***************

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