#if i wasn't so goddamn awkward i'd try to make small talk

[smute]

my toxic trait is reading way too much into everyday interactions theres this random guy who i see every friday at 8 o clock we always take the same bus to uni and we always walk to the same building and he's always a little faster and always holds the door for me and i always say thank you and he always smiles this big smile and then we walk up the same stairs to the same floor and there we part ways. but today he didnt just hold the door for me. he opened it, turned around, waited for me to go first and after our usual thank you/you're welcome he gave me that big smile again and there was this short moment of familiarity between us like he recognized me and i recognized him even though we dont know each other and it honestly made my whole morning

[emeritus-fuckers]

hello hi!! i was wondering if it would be possible to request some young imperator/young nihil relationship hcs(preferably non-angsty)? i am shaking them around i love them so much but there’s such little content

Young Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator relationship headcanons

He/him pronouns used for Papa Nihil. She/her

Honestly, for a brief moment, they were a somewhat happy pair.

Nihil managed to get Imperator to actually have fun and loosed up while she got him to do his goddamn job for once.

They had some issues, as all couples do.

Imperator was not the best with her feeling and emotions back then, mostly due to how she was "raised" by the Director. She was somewhat distant and unsure when it came to romance.

Nihil, on the other hand, would always pour his heart out. He would give his all into his relationship. And then even more.

In a way, they completed each other. Imperator was the (usually) calm one, while Nihil is the one getting into situations because of how passionate he was.

Naturally, their differences in temper and how they were raised can make the relationship difficult, but they would always end up together somehow, unable to leave the other for good.

Admittedly, it was usually Nihil who came back crying and Imperator just would just sigh and cuddle it out with his clingy self.

Nihil is one of the very few people who know Imperator's original name. The one given to her by her parents, rather than the one given by the Director.

He got it tattooed, actually. In a small, decorative font, right over his heart, where she would lay her head at night.

Sister is a cardiophiliac, so she would listen to Nihil's heart to soothe herself to sleep. For a while, it seemed to be the only thing helping her insomnia.

Nihil would always get all blushy whenever she fell asleep on him, too. Giddy and blushy.

(He also cums very quickly with her but that's besides the point.)

They'd sneak out to concerts together.

Nihil is more into softer songs and tunes while Imperator has always been into rock and metal, which inspired Nihil to try making his songs in a more rock-like fashion.

Imperator was the one to design Nihil's Papal paints.

It was also her joke that lead to him choosing white and gold as the colors of his robes.

You see, she made a joke that he'd be the one wearing a wedding gown if they ever got married. And since, as Papa, he would have to be married in his robes, he went with the closest thing he could get.

Yes, these two were thinking of marriage at one point, even if it was mostly either late night sleepy talking or jokes.

Also, I disagree with the sentiment shared in the fandom that Imperator hated Nihil's kids.

I'm gonna fight y'all on slandering my wife like that.

I'd like to think that despite the slight awkwardness and obvious distance, she was actually really fond of them while Nihil and her were a thing.

And even after they broke up, while she wasn't as fond of them anymore (especially Terzo, who looked just like Nihil), she still remained civil to them.

Y'all can fight me on this, by the way.

Sister Imperator did nothing wrong.

~

Written by Nosferatu.

[jinxxedmisery]

H!

I'm back from the dead!

And I have things to talk about 🤭

Last month into this month has been fucking wild for me!

I was connected to a girl my age through my therapist, her name is Sam. We've really hit it off and I now consider her a friend.

Then... for some reason I felt confident enough to make a dating profile.... and

AGAINST ALL ODDS I MET SOMEONE.

Like I live in a town over an hour away from any cities.. but he only lives a half hour out of town... so not a super long drive.

Anyway, we've seen eachother in person twice but I fell so deeply in love with the guy.. and I can tell he feels the same about me... the way he looks at me.... How he talks... He is also a total romantic.. much like myself, so it's been going really good! I'm hoping we'll get to see eachother again next week.

But I never thought I'd ever get into a romantic relationship... if I'm being honest

Don't read on if you're easily triggered by mental health issues and/or sexual themes.

I never intended to be around this long... I was literally planning on ending it all shortly after my 18th birthday... But for some reason... I kept going.. and I'm super happy that I did, otherwise, I wouldn't have ever met my friend and boyfriend.

Seriously...

Things are finally going right for me after so many goddamned years of being alone, isolated unable to find any real connection and incredibly miserable because of it...

I have finally realized I am not unlikeable, I'm not worthless and I can find friends. And for the rest of 2022 and into 2023, I will work as hard as I can to not let my anxiety control me anymore

My next big leap comes in November. I will be looking for my first job!

And here comes the part where I gush about my boyfriend

I now have this dream now where I'm settling down with my boyfriend.... we move into a little apartment in one of the cities nearby (in fact that dream could very well come true... because we both want to go to the same city for college) and we settle into a peaceful domestic life together.... hopefully with cats!

Ok... but like honestly this guy is literally the one I've been dreaming of. He's very attractive and emotionally available, and he doesn't judge me for who I am! I neglected to mention here, but I have discovered that I am agender and my pronouns are they/them... I live in probably one of the most conservative provinces in Canada and to make it worse, I'm in a small town with like 4 churches of the same exact brand of extremely homophobic and transphobic Christianity... I fully expected him to lose interest in me. But no, It hasn't affected how he thinks of me. and he is very careful to respect my pronouns...

He's also very funny (which I really love in people... I can't be around someone who is super serious all the time) I mean... when I last saw him on Monday, we were at my place, playing around (in an adult sort of way) and he discovered my toys

One of them had a suction cup at the base, so he goes and sticks it on the wall a few times... then he sticks it on his forehead looks at me and says "I'm dildo man" we laugh about it together.... and he goes to pull it off his face only to discover it has suctioned pretty hard to his face, so I help him by wedging my finger under the suction cup and lifting it off...

and HE HAS A BIG ASS BRUISE RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS FOREHEAD... We're still laughing our asses off... me almost pissing myself with laughter as we frantically search for way to get rid of bruises and hickeys online... we try the fork method, icing it... everything we can do, nothing works.. so we decide to just take a bath to clean up before my parents get home from a trip they were on (at this point my parents don't know we've had sex... and I wasn't exactly ready to tell them) While we're in the bath, my parents get home and my dad calls out to me... I fucking panic and we get out and dress at breakneck speed.

My parents brought home some takeout and my boyfriend stayed for dinner... he met my mom for the first time... but damn... coming downstairs after that was... super awkward... but thankfully my parents aren't the type to be bothered by that kind of thing, all they needed to know was that we used protection (which we did ofc)

It's funny though, he really gets along well with my dad.. Maybe it's their sense of humour. Or maybe the fact they are both quite talkative..

But damn.....

This guy is special.. and I hope we last for years, decades... life even...

And done.. Sorry about all that.. just had to write this all down somewhere.. It's really hard to contain my happiness right now.

[n1k1tty]

kiss me ! part 2

“hawaii!” niki yells, throwing as fist in the air as he enters the van “riki, it’s 3am in the morning, please shut up” jay retorts, going back to sleep as he leans on the window

as if it was almost planned, you and jake sat beside each other at the furthest seat. it was complicated, you didn’t know if you were comfortable or not, you felt tense, afraid of jake’s teasing if you touch him even the slightest. yet you also didn’t want to leave your seat.

you let out a huff, trying to find a position where you could comfortably sleep in. you were spooked at the sudden hand that leans your head on their shoulders “you can sleep on my shoulders, it’s alright” jake chuckles, already drifting to sleep the second after he did that “thanks” you mumble, easing into his warmth.

you laugh a little at his aching figure “this is funny to you? after i’ve been so kind to let you sleep on my shoulder?” he pouts “i deserve a long massage during our flight” he jokes, continuing to carry your bags.

dumbfounded by the fact that you stayed with him, giving him a glance filled with guilt “y/n seriously, i’m fine. it’ll go away sooner or later” he reassures you, his heart exploding at the sight of you with glimmering eyes, feeling the guilt you expressed them with.

“what do you wanna eat for breakfast?” you mumble, taking the luggage cart from his grasp. he laughs at your attempt to make him feel better “sorry? didnt quite hear that well” he teases, making you give him a glare, almost forgetting that he was ‘injured’ you raise your hand to almost give him a punch “good thing you’re hurting or i would’ve punched your ass back to australia” you roll your eyes “you heard what i said!” eyebrows frowning as you look away “alright alright, i’m fine with coffee really—” he lets out a breathy chuckle, dragging his feet as he follows you around “—nonsense! breakfast is important. don’t give me that type of bullshit sim” you cut him off, stopping by a little restaurant as you tell the other members to go ahead “im getting you pancakes. better finish it or you’re not living to see another day”

he laughs “this is quite a unique way to care for someone don’t you think” you roll your eyes "eat the damn pancakes sim jaeyun"

"yas ma'am"

--

after everyone had met up, you all started finding your seats. you were bewildered, somehow, because now you found yourself wanting to switch seats with sunghoon for obvious reasons. but of course, you --again, didn't have the guts to do so.

a few hours into the flight and a few glances from jake here and there, you received a message

jake :):

hey pretty girl, do me a favour and go to the washroom behind you

you:

and why exactly?

jake :):

no questions asked. i just miss you ;)

you swore you wanted to jump off the plane. pretty girl?! he misses me?!. you feel the heat creeping up in your face as you asked jungwon "hey, could you get up of a sec. i gotta go to the washroom" you whisper, mumbling a small 'thank you' before you walked to the washroom.

you felt a hand pull you "hey" he giggles, arms wrapped around your waist "you scared me! i thought i was getting abducted" you slap his shoulder. although you would be lying if you said you didn't want to just grab him and kiss him right at this moment.

he looked so good with his button up shirt, showing off his collar bones, neck wearing the beaded necklace you made for him during the summer and your birthstone necklace. his hair was messy, and you couldn't deny how hot he looked with his glasses on.

"you should consider buttoning up" you hesitantly say, looking anywhere but his eyes. of course he catches on to your intentions, but he felt like pissing you off "why? i'm showing off your necklace" he giggles "i even bought your birthstone" he grabs the necklace with his thumb, making you roll your eyes as you cross your arms, making sim jaeyun giggle.

he places his hand under your chin, finally letting you looking at him "switch seats with sunghoon please. i don't think i like the sight of you sleeping on jungwon's shoulders" now it was your time to piss him off.

"why?" you pout, "his shoulders are so comfortable, and we don't want your shoulders aching again now do we?" you give him a slight smile, well it wasn't like you weren't planning to switch with sunghoon way before the flight even started anyway.

jake rolls his eyes "that leaves you no choice--"

"can y'all hurry up? i'll switch with you y/n gosh! just let me pee!" sunghoon bangs on the door, making jake laugh "well that was easy"

--

oh how you regret changing seats.

because now you get to fully witness the flight attendants obviously flirting with him.

"good morning sir" she annoyingly giggles, biting her lip as she leans in way too close. jake leans back, letting out a small laugh out of politeness "hi, yeah i'd like..." he orders his food while you glare at the girl who's been displeasingly close to him "what can i get for you ma'am?"

"oh my girlfriend would like the same thing" jake interrupts, giving you a sly wink after placing his hand on top of yours. you let out a small scoff after seeing the disappointed look on the girl as she hands you the food. your skips a beat. girlfriend? you thought

now he was starting to piss you off. he was doing everything but ask you out. and with every ounce of pride you had in your soul, you hated to admit that you were starting to get really impatient. were you not obvious about your feelings? was the handmade necklace and the concern you have for him not obvious enough?

"ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Hawaii" the pilot announces, after you got your hand carry, you didn't even bother waiting for jake. immediately walking out of the plane, causing him to tilt his head out of confusion.

he didn't get a chance to talk to you, i mean, how could he when you would immediately start walking away from him whenever he tried to walk towards you.

as you sat beside jay in the tour bus, he gives you a weird look "why are you here" you give him a lost look "can i not...?" that's when he knew something happened between you and jake "y/n if this is because of jake--" you place your hand on his mouth, leaning way too close. but luck wasn't on your side today, because jake saw.

"shut up please! and yes! it is about him. so please spare me and let me sit here for the meantime" jay chuckles, "jake's going to kill me for this" he mumbles, leaning back to the chair "what?"

"nothing" he gives you a grin

--

after you guys arrived to jay's beach house you immediately grab your bag before jake could help you

"alright riki and sunoo are sharing a room, jungwon and heeseung are sharing, and...." jay looks at you, sunghoon and jake, not knowing what to do "you three figure it out. i'm just letting you know one gets to have their own room" jay starts to head to his own room, shrugging his shoulders as he walks past you with widened eyes.

"we already know what's about to happen. i'm getting my own room-"

"no!" you yell

"yes!" jake yells in unison,

"well......" sunghoon stood there, waiting for the both of you to talk "well, i just think i should get the room since you know-- i'm a girl and-- you and jake are best friends so you should be roommates" you explain, giving sunghoon an awkward smile "yeah sure whatever- ow!" jake hits sunghoon in the arm "you idiot! take the goddamn room!" jake grits through his teeth "you know what y/n! i change my mind. i uh, i think im going to take the room"

"why?!" you whisper with a harsh tone. poor sunghoon "IM GOING TO JERK OFF OR SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW" he yells, although he regrets it after the maids give him a weird look "ayo what?" heeseung peaks through the door "nothing! i didn't mean that. just --ugh! i'm heading out" he grabs his luggage, stomping through the hallways as he walks to the room. leaving you with jake.

--

you were about to have a mental breakdown "jay! you're seriously not helping me at all!" you give him a shove "ow! you need to control your strength sometimes! and i'm sorry okay? i just panicked, and i think you and jake being roommates wouldn't be a mistake. it's better to fix your problems instead of just sweeping it under the rug. you can't avoid him forever y/n" he was right. and you knew that. but you couldn't bring yourself to tell jake what was bothering you. even the thought of it was embarrassing, because what if he wasn't even intending to date you at all?

you walk back to the room, hesitating whether you should open it or not. but after hearing no noise, you open the door "AH OH MY GOD SORRY--" there you saw a shirtless jake, hair wet and his glasses having a few drops of water from his hair. he grabs your hand before you could walk out again "y/n, please talk to me" he places his hands on both sides of your shoulders "did i do something wrong? whatever it is, i'm really sorry" he panics, slightly pouting at the silent treatment you gave him "jake i-"

"dinners ready!" riki barges in, freezing at the sight of you two "oh- hey! riki, let's go!" you grab his arm, walking towards the dining room "please don't mention it" you whisper, sitting in between riki and jay.

jake later follows, now in his grey shirt and the checkered pajamas he wore earlier, he gives you a small smile before sitting next to heeseung.

"so, sunghoon. did you have fun?" heeseung teases

"shut up!"

--

"this wasn't going as planned anymore!" jake groans, he was currently in jay's room, ranting his frustrations out while jay listened. when jake had heard about the trip to hawaii, he originally planned to confess when you guys went to the party, it's not like the party had already happened, but it was already tomorrow "i already apologized, yet she still wouldn't speak"

"do you even know why she's mad?" jay asked, leaning on the bad with his arms as he watched jake pacing around his room "...no?"

"jake sim you idiot"

it was 1 am in the morning and you finally finished playing games with riki and heeseung. you were hesitating to open the door once again. afraid of letting the incident happen once more. you knock lightly, hoping that he was there and you could finally make up

but before you could open the door, jake already opened it. immediately embracing you "please talk to me" he whispers gently in your ear. you couldn't help but burst out crying, causing him to panic, he caresses your hair "let's go for a walk yeah?" he grabs your wrist, his touch so gentle as if you were fragile.

he wipes your tears as you walk along the shore "i missed you. you know?" he holds your hand as you both drag your feet along the sand. you hit him on his shoulder "ow!"

"that's what you get!" you sniffle, looking at the reflection of the moon on the sea "what did i do?" he chuckles, searching for your eyes. he tilts his head when you don't respond "hello?"

"cause! you always flirt with me, calling me your girlfriend and hugging me! i hate it! i hate it because my heart always skips a beat every time and i always expect you to ask me out soon yet you never do!" you yell, your skin was glowing under the moonlight. jake was in awe the moment he saw your glistening eyes that had tears threatening to fall.

he had the sudden urge to kiss you and tell you how he felt.

and he did. because jake was a man who never doubted his feelings when it came to you.

he pulls you by the waist, causing you to let out a yelp. his lips touches yours, and it stayed like that for a while, to make up for the moments he wasted without you this whole vacation. you wrap your hands around his neck, playing with his hair

"can i be your boyfriend?" he cheekily says, his smile making you smile as well "suck my ass. sim jaeyun. yes, i'd love for you to be my boyfriend"

"i'd gladly suck your a--"

"sim jaeyun!"

--

[bonus bcs i haven't posted in a while]

it was the morning of the party, you were in jake's arms "finally you're awake! good morning!" he excitedly says, peppering you with kisses "the guys are in the pool so get changed" he informs you, smacking your ass as soon as you got up "getting too comfortable for our first day aren't we?" you tilt your head, giving him a smirk "can't help it" he send a wink your way.

as soon as you got out in your swimsuit, jake's mouth drops "do a little turn for me" he smirks, twirling you around as he hypes you up "holy shit! i'm so lucky aren't i" he checks you out, earning a smack from you "ow! alright but i'm not letting them check you out like that! wear my shirt"

(he didn't let you go from the jacuzzi after heeseung hyped you up lol)

--

[party]

you told jake to go ahead, wanting to surprise him with the dress you bought.

after arriving to the party jake almost dropped the drink he had in his hand after he saw you. he was smiling so hard when the little girl put a Lei (flower neck lace) on you. he felt so proud when the other men at the party look at you giving him a hug

"that's right, she's mine" he thought

after you walked to wards him he grabs you by the waist "you look so pretty in red" he says, hugging you tightly "is that so?" you ask, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips, making him all giddy

--

part 1

taglist: @zylenes @hwalllllllelujah @theskzvibe

HI GUYS :D. i will be posting the visuals for this fic so pls wait :)

[cherry-lipbalm]

a son of a bitch in a camper van. spencer reid.

3.9k words.

masterlist

the gif’s a bit blurry yet he’s still endearing x

in which things happen just like that.

Local law enforcement, accompanied by the BAU, have been sitting in a besieging of this goddamn camper van for so long now that the majority of them were highly considering setting up a tent. If it hadn't been already, it sure as hell was scraping up to be a long night.

Spencer couldn't feel his feet, and he had given up on aiming his gun at the RV a long time ago. The sheriffs had been handing out fold-up chairs for those who were observing any potential activity and hadn't resorted to lounging in their cars.

Morgan had offered his to Spencer, who took it gratefully after he got up from falling on his ass when Derek pulled it out from under him. Spencer was only just about to jump on him when they spotted Hotch's glare from over his shoulder. This is a crime scene they could practically hear him say, so Spencer settled for a harsh shove on his colleague's arm and they left it at that.

And that was probably the most exciting thing to have happened over the course of this man-watch; and that was... three hours ago, now? Time, at this point, had become unsubstantial.

"Are we sure he's even still in there?" Morgan asked, gesturing to the derelict camper van a few yards away from them. He had retrieved another chair, and was sat behind the barricade of police cars, but nonetheless held tightly onto the gun resting in his lap.

"I think so," Spencer squinted over the red and blues, assessing the vehicle. If you could even call it that; the thing was basically crumbling to pieces. As much as he believed it, he couldn't comprehend how someone was actually in there, and for so long. It looked uninhabitable.

"The whole thing’s surrounded," a new voice interjected into the conversation, "he went in, and hasn't come out. Detectives say they can see him walking about now and then."

Morgan and Reid both turned in their chairs. If the dire situation surrounding them wasn't so obvious, one could have easily believed they were on a fishing trip of some sorts, except one should know that Morgan had already taken Spencer fishing once, and the result was... eventful, to say the least. A trip to the ER and five stitches later, Reid vowed to never do anything with Morgan ever again.

"Hey, sugar. How you holdin' up?" Morgan greeted, relaxing back into his not-so-relaxing chair.

Y/N sighed, a guttural groan emitting from the exudation of her breath. She looked up to the sky, and was thankful that at least they had a pretty night to look at, because this guy was not moving any time soon.

Reid and Morgan both assessed her as she stepped out from behind their set-up, coming out of the shadows almost menacingly, into the light of police sirens and the distant lamp beaming from inside the camper van.

"I'd be holding up a lot better if this bastard did something," she said. Her feet crunched the soil as she grabbed a spare chair and planted it next to Spencer. He tried to resist the urge to pull back her chair. Emphasis on the word tried.

When Y/N's bum didn't connect with the seat, the realisation hit her too late and all she could do was let out a yell while she headed straight for the ground.

"Oh, you dick!" She cried when she plummeted into the grass. Looking at her mud-ridden hands in disgust, she didn't hesitate to wipe it on Spencer's beloved dress shirt, making sure to taint his sweater vest too.

"Hey! Hey!" He retracted frantically, shoving himself into the side of his chair to get away from Y/N and her hands that could deposit any more Earth onto him. All the while, Morgan laughed his head off, almost facing the same fate as Y/N when his chair leaned back from his laughing fit.

"Children," Hotch called, reprimanding them over Y/N's grimaces and the boys' amusement, which quickly ended when they saw the Unit Chief striding over.

"Did you see that, Hotch? That's harassment in the workplace!"

"Can I please remind you that we are on a crime scene. We are the FBI, and no doubt are going to make a lasting impression on local law enforcement, is this really how you want to be remembered?"

The three fell into sullen expressions, bowing their heads ashamedly as to not make eye contact with him. But Morgan was still snickering subtly behind his hand, and Spencer was biting down on his lip to avoid a sudden burst of laughter that he knew would be more than inevitable while they were being scolded due to the pseudobulbar effect; he'd explain it to them when they were no longer being rebuked.

Eventually Hotch did walk away, leaving them with a castigating glare Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to shake. In response, she took the subsequent silence as an opportunity to slap Spencer on the arm, hard.

"Ow!" He hushed, immediately rubbing his bicep where he was sure a bruise would be forming. If he wasn't aching he would be impressed that she managed to inflict so much pain from so low down.

"Nice one, you got me in trouble with Hotch!" She hissed. Derek had resumed laughing.

"Sorry, teacher's pet," Spencer called her. Then, whispered here we go to himself at what he had just unavoidably instigated.

"Coming from you?" Morgan and Y/L/N said simultaneously, a snark tone to their words. He pursed his lips and looked to them blankly, rolling his eyes at their unified laughter.

They all eased a bit after that, despite the wake of Hotch's wrath. Spencer pulled Y/N up from the ground, and then began to aid her in wiping the soil from her trousers, prompting an awkward encounter when he realised his hand was right on her ass. She gave him a glare, and he raised his muddy hands in surrender while he sat back down, leaving her to do it herself.

When she was somewhat clean, she dragged her chair back and sat in it, pointing a warning finger in Spencer's face as she did so to let him know not to try anything sneaky.

When she relaxed, Y/N thought the scenery was quite nice; get rid of the police cars, black SUVs and the serial killer less than ten metres away from them and it could make for an ideal holiday destination. All they needed was a couple of beers and a bonfire.

Ah, fire. Warmth! Y/N was beginning to forget what it felt like. She wrapped herself further into the complimentary FBI jacket she'd been given upon her arrival to the team. It made for cool recognition, and got her into a lot of places, but, god, did it do fuck all for practical thermal purposes.

"You're cold?" Spencer queried when he noticed her enveloping her arms around herself.

"Freezing," she replied.

"You should go in the car. Emily put the heating on in there earlier, it'll be warm now."

"What? And leave all the fun for you guys? Over my dead body," she turned her head to shoot him a smirk. He inhaled deeply, faltering a smile in her direction and let a comfortable silence fall between them. Y/N even painted on a genuine grin for him, and let the blush she felt warm her up from the cold.

The next few minutes after this go very quickly, but from what Y/N can barely grasp, it goes like this: the camper van's door is thrown open, and out comes this beast of a man who, if he had them, would have had guns blazing. This is evident from his demeanour; the word beast did not originate from his physique, no, he is a fragile, small boy, but the way he is yelling and screaming is nothing of the juvenile sort. And so, he is doing his yelling and screaming and, frankly, taking no prisoners.

All he has on him is a revolver, but it's enough for every police officer and agent to swing into action. Spencer and Morgan's chairs both fall to the ground upon the abruptness of how they suddenly stand, guns drawn. Y/N is already one step ahead of them, and fails to shield herself from their unsub behind any car door like everyone else had the sense to; even if he were without weapons, they were facing the human embodiment of the word danger.

Spencer shouts at Y/N to defend herself, but she pretends she doesn't hear because this bastard made her wait four hours in the freezing cold, the least she could do was have an eye on him, so Spencer takes her cover.

Which turns out to be the fault in this story, because Spencer loves Y/N. And anyone with a pair of eyes can see it and, unfortunately for them, their unsub happened to have a pair of eyes.

He sees the way this pipe cleaner of a man is aiming his gun at him so determinedly, and how his gaze is switching between him and this girl in a frivolous FBI jacket. And he's already blissfully aware that there's no way he is getting out of here alive, but if he is going down then he's sure as hell taking someone with him. He only has one bullet and figures it's a 2 for 1 deal judging by the way pipe-cleaner man is so obviously in love with shitty-jacket girl. And then next thing anyone knows is Y/N is on the ground again but this time a bullet has buried itself in her chest.

Spencer takes the shot, and then a few more even though their unsub has fallen to the ground. And as much as he wants to rush over to Y/N he knows he doesn't have the emotional capacity to see what state she is in, but what he does have is rage, and a whole lot of it, so he just keeps on shooting. He's already dead but that doesn't matter. He keeps shooting until his barrel is empty and Hotch is pulling him away.

A detective approaches the unsub, even though his fate is more than assured, while a flurry of people surround Y/N, falling to her side, but she's only asking for one.

"Spencer," she utters. It hurts for her to talk or even breathe but she knows the pain will only continue so she pays the small price of adding to it in order to make sure Spencer is by her side for the remainder of it all.

Morgan grabs the boy, shakes him from his trance and then pushes him through the crowd so he can kneel beside Y/N. The squelching noise of his trousers drenching in her blood almost makes him vomit, but he swallows it down for Y/N's sake. He already covered her in mud, he knows better than to be sick on her too.

"Y/N," his voice trembles, but the way he turns to shout at the people around him is so full of strength and fury that people jump immediately into action. He yells for an ambulance, even though there's already one on scene and it's just behind them, but what else can he do?

"I'm fine," Y/N manages, "I'm fine."

She was not, indeed, fine.

She tries to scramble to her feet, but finds she can't even attempt sitting up without a pain searing throughout her whole body, ripping her nerves apart like resolute Velcro.

"It's alright," Spencer says, panicked as he tries to keep her from hurting herself. He brushes the blood-stained hair from her face but regrets it when he sees how it's contorted in pain. Thankfully, she soon relaxes, until he realises that's not a good thing at all.

"No, no, Y/N, stay with me alright? Can you do that? Listen to me!"

So he's yelling at the girl he loves, which is no use because she can't hear him and her eyes are already closed. He's so desperate that he pushes her eyelids open himself, but what lies underneath is unresponsive. He holds his hand tightly over what pulse she has left.

Y/N is dying in Spencer's arms. And she can't help but think that if she was to go, she wouldn't mind it to be here and now. But, with what lingering conscious remains, she realises it wouldn't be her who would have to face the repercussions of her death, it would be her friends. Her family. Spencer.

Spencer who had done nothing but love her ferociously ever since they had met; silently and from afar, but passionately nonetheless. She loved him too correspondingly and too much to kill him with the grief.

So she takes a breath.

But he doesn't even have a chance to say goodbye, never mind ask to go in the back of the ambulance with her when she is ripped from his grasp and placed onto the gurney. The ambulance doors slam close and he forgets what it feels like to move. Morgan's hand on his shoulder feels foreign, and when he does eventually move, it's a surge of chaos.

Their unsub isn't receiving any medical attention, because Reid sorted that out irrefutably, so there's really not that many people around and Morgan isn't even fully aware to stop him when Spencer steals his gun from his holster and marches to the corpse lying in the grass. Surrounded by the greenery, the son of a bitch looks almost peaceful so, when Spencer is unloading the bullets on him, he makes sure to add a few in his face for good measure.

This time, no one stops him.

———

"How is she?" JJ asks, who's only just arrived at the hospital in a hurry after receiving the call. She's pretty tenacious considering the situation, especially when you compare her to the ball of pink and panic standing next to her.

"Is she alright? Oh, God, please let her be alright," Garcia utters. She's straight in Derek's arms, who's been crying but to no one's acknowledgement because they all decided they need to be strong, for Y/N's sake. Still, it doesn't stop JJ shedding a few tears from moment to moment.

"She's in surgery," is all Hotch says, because it's all he knows. One minute he was scolding her to get off the ground and the next he was begging her to.

JJ takes a seat immediately next to Emily, and they unanimously clutch onto each other's hands. Opposite them, Morgan and Garcia do the same. It is here that JJ realises the person who should probably be in the company of his friends the most, isn't.

"Where's Spence?"

"Bathroom," Morgan tells her. "He's been in there a while. Won't talk to anyone."

So when Spencer does come out, almost on cue a few seconds later, everyone stands up attentively and tries to decide whether they will ignore his red eyes. They do, and Spencer sits down in a chair next to Morgan. He virtually collapses into his side.

Morgan is reminded of their fishing trip turned ER trip a few months prior. From the way Spencer is resting dependently on his shoulder, the days are identical, except this time Spencer's pain isn't physical and can't be fixed with five stitches.

Everyone looks at Spencer with evident pity, so he burrows himself further into Morgan's t-shirt. When Derek feels the wet indication of tears, he stands up with an arm wrapped around his shoulders and says "let's take a walk".

Spencer doesn't want to, but he's already reached the grieving stage and his body and mind are no longer connected. The only way in which they are associated is that Spencer's mind is mush and his limbs are moving so similarly sluggishly that Morgan is verging on dragging him along the hallways.

Just when Spencer is thinking that Morgan has really just brought him to aimlessly wander the corridors, his friend stops him and holds onto his shoulders. He notices how he has to look away for a moment because he never really managed to register just how bloodshot his eyes were.

"Listen here, pretty boy. You got a girl in there who is fighting for her life. She is, without a doubt, scared, okay? So you need to be strong for her and for yourself, alright? And when she pulls through, because she will, you've gotta take that strength, and you've gotta use it," Morgan said. He was prodding a finger to Spencer's chest to try and get his message across, but he had no idea what that message entailed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you gotta get your girl, man," his shoulders dropped.

Spencer's face portrays a small smile like he always does when he's hopeless, and his mutterings are almost drowned out by the incessant beeping of hospital machinery, but Morgan catches them.

"What if I don't get a chance to?"

They're interrupted then, much to Morgan's gratitude, because he really didn't know how he was going to respond to that.

Hotch is at the end of the hallway, his chest rising quickly in a pant. Spencer fears the worst.

"She's out."

And suddenly, nothing else matters. Not to Spencer, at least. He shoots off down the hallway like a rock in a catapult; so quickly that Morgan doesn't even ascertain his disappearance until the news has sunk in and he's chasing after him too.

He keeps thinking that. Nothing else matters, nothing else matters. He repeats the mantra in his head while he meanders frantically through the halls; he lost sight of Hotch a while ago when he raced past him and now he's realised he doesn't even know where Y/N is. Nothing else matters he justifies when he bumps into a nurse during his frenzy and doesn't have the time nor consideration to apologise.

When he reaches a small empty square, with four hallways sprouting from it, he cradles his hands behind his head and tries to control his breathing; something he's forgotten how to do correctly. He steps forward, hoping his feet will just know where to go.

Somehow, they do.

He's only taken one step, but when he advances into the hallway to his right, he hears someone breathe his name; it's weak, and feeble, but he'd know her voice anywhere.

His mouth is already agape when he looks over. The door is wide open, just like his eyes with a mixture of hope and fear-stricken astonishment. Inside the room the team is crowded around the bed, looking down on the fragile agent.

Just like before, he forgets what it feels like to move. His feet are stuck in place and even though his mind is racing there is no telling his limbs to do... anything. So, for now, he just peers into the room. Y/N's eyes are begging him to enter but he can't bring himself to do it. If he walks in that means it's real. The heart monitor, the bandages, the dried blood coating her neck that the nurses missed in their clean up: it's all real.

"Reid, trust me. This is a hell of a better ending, okay? This is the one you want," Morgan clasps his hand down on Spencer's shoulder, hissing to him to try and spark some kind of unlikely reaction, but to no avail. Spencer didn't even realise Morgan and Hotch had caught up to him.

He enviously watches them enter the room with such ease. They kiss Y/N's cheek and hug her close. Morgan leans his hands on the end of the hospital bed and tries to talk to her, but she's only looking at Spencer with betrayal in her eyes.

Before Spencer can whisper a futile apology and rush out of the hospital, his brain almost goes into override, suddenly providing him with all the reasons he should do anything but that.

He sees Y/N's face, the way she smiled at him before. The way she's always smiled at him. He hears her laughter, feels her touch. He feels the warmth he experiences whenever she is near. And suddenly, again, nothing else matters.

Nothing but you.

Hotch instinctively lets a hand hover over his holster due to the precipitous manner Spencer barges into the room with. The sole of his shoes squeak against the floor in his hurry and Y/N would grimace if she had the space to because next thing she knows Spencer's lips are on hers and his hands are encasing her face in a way that doesn't make her feel claustrophobic like she always thought it would.

She can't help but think how embarrassing it is that her coworkers are watching this scene unfold —her boss too, and she knows he'll probably be obliged to give them some talk about appropriate behaviour between colleagues, but she doesn't care. Nothing else matters but Spencer.

He doesn't stop there, Spencer wants to kiss her more and Y/N is more than happy to allow it. Her fingers can only fondle the wrinkle of his shirt because it hurts to much to raise her arms, but Spencer is practically lying on top of her and she can get a good feel of his torso through the clothing. His warmth radiates onto her and she hums happily against his lips. When he begins to pull away, she grabs onto his tie and doesn't let him.

She thinks a few of the team have turned around, because it's eerily silent except for a few sniggers from —who she assumed— Morgan, and excited squeals from —who she knew was— Garcia.

When Spencer pulled away, successfully this time, he let out a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

"For what?"

"I should have covered you."

"Shut up. From what I've heard you covered me pretty well," she said, and Spencer knew she had been told about his vengeful face-shooting incident. He bowed his head, and smiled weakly when Y/N pulled him back up from his tie. It became less weak when she pecked his lips.

"I'm okay," she whispered to him, like they were the only ones in the room, "we're okay. He's gonna rot for it."

Spencer nodded, and what he couldn't say in words he made up for in affection: his kisses were short, but none lacked the passion that was necessary to tell her how he felt. She felt every one of his kisses throughout her body. Where her chest ached with the pain of being shot now burned with a feverish love for Spencer.

"I, uh, I am going to have to hold a seminar on fraternisation next week," Hotch leaned forward to interject, which worked a treat in eliciting the laughter needed to brighten the mood.

Those that had turned swirled back on their heels and beamed at the new couple. Spencer sat on the edge of Y/N's bed, his hands encased around hers and resting on his lap. They exchanged assuring glances momentarily within the soft conversations of the team.

When Y/N looked up to Spencer again she smiled, and he knew she was thinking the same thing as himself: these people matter, and you, you matter the most.

fin.

[indigobackfire]

Phoenix Lazar Nobleworth Silverwood

Below is a lengthy history of his parents, their involvement with dragons, and how he lost them.

Ps: I tried adding some Scottish dialect in the dialogue, but I'm not the best at it considering all I have as reference is my love for James McAvoy and Outlander. Forgive me in advance for any atrocities lol. Also, diverging from canon especially in relation to Veela powers and physical descriptions.

Phoenix's father, Emilian, was sorted into Gryffindor and with pride, he was a Gryffindor by the book, adventurous, brave, often reckless, fun, with a strong sense of protection over his friends, someone who valued courage and honor.

Emilian didn't know how he and Palmer Silverwood - Slytherin, pureblood, much more popular than him, and one of the best duelists in their year - became friends, he also didn't know how Palmer found an about to hatch dragon egg in the forbidden forest, or how he even got into the forbidden forest to begin with, but being who he was, Emilian wasn't much surprised.

The biggest surprise was that Palmer even knew who he was.

Emilian takes a peek into Palmer's robes where the egg is hidden. "So? You're the dragon laddie, Nobleworth."

"Yeah, it's a dragon egg. Common Welsh Green this one." He looks up. "And is that what people call me?"

"Are ye really surprised? You talk about them all the time, yer the best in Care of Magical Creatures, and ye have a dragon painted at the back of yer bloody robes."

"Only fair. McGonagall hates it."

Palmer laughs. "Will ye help me?"

"Aye. But what ye want me to do?"

"I dinna ken. I just don't want the wee dragon to die. The poor creature wasn't warm when I found it so it's probably motherless. I mean... they fire up their eggs, don't they?"

Emilian smiles. "You're not as unknowledgeable as you think, Silverwood. Let's go somewhere more private."

In the humid and dusty air of the artifact room, they hide. "Hand me the egg."

Palmer hands him the egg delicately as if the creature inside it wasn't one that could eat them both in a bite when grown. And for a moment Palmer wonders what he'll do, but Emilian just stands there holding the egg. And as he's about to question him, he sees Emilian's fingers get bright red.

"Mate? What's wrong with yer hands?"

Emilian snickers. "I have a secret, can you keep it?" Palmer nods eyes fixated on the egg whose cracks were very slowly growing. "I'm half Veela and whilst I can't throw balls of fire from my hands... I can heat it up to... oven temperature."

"Oven temperature?"

Emilian smirks. "Ah dinnae have exact numbers, but if ye want to give a touch."

Palmer looks at his hands again. "Nae. They're as bright as molten glass, lad."

Emilian raises his eyebrows. "Oh, I felt it move."

"Ooohh, it's gonna set this tiny room on fire."

"Let me hide it this time. I ken a place we can go. The person ye should've gone to in the first place."

Palmer widens his eyes. "Kettleburn, nae."

"Silverwood, ye cannae keep the dragon. It'll set you on fire before completing one year."

Palmer puffs as they walk out of the artifact room. "If the dragon enthusiast dinnae want to keep a real dragon, why would I?"

"A dragon lover is the same as a bee lover. You can appreciate the honey, the lovely stripes, but if ye hold it in yer hand, it'll sting you. Dragons were made to live outside, flying, spitting fire. A wee dragon is cute, but once is grown..."

"Yer a curious lad, Nobleworth." Emilian gives an awkward half smile. "I like you."

Their friendship was as unexpected to them as it was for the bystanders, but one that sustained for their last two years in Hogwarts - including Palmer's girlfriend, Clarin, an uptight but curious Ravenclaw, who despite her best instincts followed behind on the boys' adventures.

When Emilian announced he would be leaving England for the Dragon Sanctuary in Romania a couple of years later, as much as Palmer and Clarin expected that to happen, it still came with the bittersweetness of watching one of their best friends go.

Years go by, but still, their bond sustains time and distance. Every opportunity they had, the SIlverwoods would travel to Romania to visit their friend who in a lighting in a bottle chance found himself a wife of "his kind".

Full Veela, Antonia Lazar, practically raised herself as her father left her mother, a temperamental full Veela woman, to deal with Tonia herself, a task she delegated to her equally careless family members, closely involved with the Dragon Sanctuary in times the place was still informally managed.

When Emilian meets her, barely wearing rags over her body, barefoot on the grass, pearl blonde hair unruly, looking as if she was raised by wild house elves, he couldn't help his heart hammering in his chest. Female Veela beauty wasn't something he was unused to, considering his mother and aunts were ones as well, but when Antonia was before him he thought of himself before a goddess.

Emilian tries not to spill the water in the heavy buckets while Antonia doesn't seem to be struggling at all. He wouldn't have a need to even carry them if he hadn't forgotten his wand, but at least he got to be alone with her.

"Why is it that ye dinnae like us?"

"You English think you run the place just because you read about dragons in a book, think you know more than us who grew with hundreds of them." She shoots him firey eyes. "Know when I first rode a dragon? I was five years old!"

"I never say I doubted yer capacities. And I'm not English, I'm Scottish." She glares at him again. "I'm kidding."

"Don't get me angry, you won't like it me angry. Trust me."

"I would actually. I wonder what color yer feathers would be."

"I'm sorry?"

"I ken a Veela when I see one. Especially cause I'm half one."

Her expression soothes a little. She puts the bucket down and grips his hand. "Go, do your magic."

While his hand goes as hot as they can, his eyes slowly change hues to match her, never breaking eye contact. "It's nice touching a girl who doesn't mind a more... ardent touch."

She gives a small smile. "You're pathetic."

"I'd love to fly on a dragon's back with someone who understands about them. I promise I'm not here to mock or doubt you. I love those creatures more than anyone I know."

She lets go of his hand and with a smirk picks up the bucket. "Well, now you know me."

Their relationship quickly becomes stronger as they spend day after day together. The work at the Sanctuary is as rewarding as it is tiring, so at the end of long days, they would sit together and exchange stories, her of her buckwild childhood and him of his years in Hogwarts. In each other's company that they find an air of normality and peace.

After recognizing and accepting her strong feelings for Emilian - something hard considering how men had treated her before, seeking what she had to offer them more than considering her needs - and finding out he felt the same for the longest time, they decided to marry, her seeing in him a sense of stability for the first time in her life.

It doesn't take long until Antonia is pregnant with their first child, and in the pool of genes and possibilities, their first-born boy is a full Veela like his mother, something uncommon for boys. Not considering what would be 'formal' or well accepted, Antonia decides to name him Phoenix for encompassing what being a Veela means to her, a bird of elegance and fire and perseverance.

And as if it was pre-destined, just a couple months prior, Clarin and Palmer had given birth to a girl of name just as uncommon, little Indigo Silverwood, who is but three months old when they come to Romania to meet little Phoenix.

To this day, the Silverwoods wonder if their timing was the best or worst it could've been.

As in the same week they came to visit, an attack happens with the intent of capturing as many dragons as they could from the reserve, something that had happened times before but this time much better planned and heavily armed with the best wizards they could get.

They start picking up their wands in haste while seeking the fire protection potion they had brewed specially for this trip back at home. "What do they need dragons for? Can't they breed their own." Clarin asks.

"Is not like is legal or easy to do so." Antonia has her eyes soaked with tears. "They don't care about the creatures, they want money. Oh, they use their blood to make spot removers. Oven cleaners! How can you take a marvelous creature and turn it into such a pathetic thing? Then they use their hearts in you wizards stupid wands and their skin into gloves!"

"Somebody must have heard about the new Chinese Fireball," Emilian says, "People seek the gold in their horns and eggs, but if you pull them out, they die."

"Not to mention the baby Romanians. Put your goddamn boots on already, Emilian!"

"What 'bout the bairns?" Palmer asks anxiously.

"There's no time. They probably ain't getting all the way up here, but in all cases." Emilian grabs the potion from Clarin's hands turning over Jacob's and baby Indigo's mouth, knowing the fire wouldn't do harm to Phoenix. He places something in Jacob's little hand. "Jacob, if any mean person comes trying to hurt ye, throw this at their feet and run. Alright?" Jacob nods, eyes wide with fear and excitement of a five-year-old.

"What is it?" Palmer asks.

"A vial of Peruvian's Vipertooth venom, extremely deadly and volatile. Don't ask me why I have it."

Palmer looks at Jacob. "Stay quiet and protect the babies, right, love?"

Antonia kisses Phoenix on the forehead one last time then turns to the others. "Let's go, please!"

And if they knew, she would've held him a little longer, Emilian would've stopped time for a couple of seconds to look at their boy for a lingering moment more. But they didn't and time never reversed.

They weren't the only lives lost, but side by side they fought and won and lost and lost and lost. They managed to protect all but two of the dragons at the end, blood of dark wizards - and innocent ones - soaked the grounds. Dragons loose on the sky overhead, blood spilt from both sides, burnt buildings, scars that would never heal, the body of a friend devoided of life, a mother of dragons and children never to wake up again, children crying in a cabin kilometers away.

When Antonia's mother refused to watch over her own grandson, Clarin felt as if it was her own son the woman refused and it was that soon the decision to keep him came. She was still breastfeeding and no ordinary family would know how to raise him right, at least that's what both her and Palmer told themselves. Emilian's parents, both devastated by the news of their son's death were quick to agree with the Silverwoods' proposal.

And it's like this that Phoenix and Indigo are practically raised as twins, still young when he notices he doesn't look like the rest of them - a pale and blonde boy in a family of tanned brunettes - not only for his looks but by the fact that sinking his hand into a pot of boiling water doesn't hurt or the fact his anger makes his body react differently from the others or that people got mesmerized by his looks enough to do whatever he asked them to.

But the Silverwoods learn the painful way that raising a Veela child is not easy work. Not only easily irritable but also dangerous when transformed, not much to others while still young, but to himself due to painful and harmful transformation, taking hours until he could retain his human form. Meditating and thought exercises became pivotal from an early age. As not make their treatment towards him different from Indigo, they become tougher with both, demanding an altruistic, patient, and empathetic behavior from both.

This leads Phoenix to grown into a level-headed, sweet and compassionate boy who eventually got sorted into Hufflepuff without the sorting hat having to consider long.

As much as he wishes he had grown with his biological parents, he's grateful to have grown in the family he did and doesn't consider himself any less part of it, he loves his siblings dearly and considers and reslects his parents as if it was from their blood and cells he was made of.

---

This is my attempt at a concise history of Phoenix, mostly his parents who I dream of drawing someday. I'll make something in the future for his romantic life as it is its own ride. I ship him with Ismelda and boy oh boy I have some to say about that.

If you wanna more info on Phoenix, I made him an OC profile :)

[one-spidey-boii]

BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch five

read ch four here

masterlist

an; sorry for posing so late in the day. i hope this chapter makes up for that. i love to hear your feedback!!

warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), future smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!

word count; 2.8k+

edie's pov.

"this is pretty good." peter says with a little smirk on his face. his lips and nose are all i can see as he sits on the couch, still wearing his mask.

he takes another bite of mac and cheese before looking in my direction and shooting me a big cheesy smile.

once he came back i had to explain to him that i did indeed burn my hand on the hot pot of water, fully knowing he wouldn't let me live it down. luckily for me, i'm not the only one who had done something worth making fun of.

"at least i can let myself back into the compound without having to knock." i rebuttal and stick my tongue out at him, "and peter, take you mask off, it's weird watching you eat that way, just a nose and mouth and ew." i end my complaint with a fake shudder.

with an eye roll, peter pulls his mask off his head and takes a spiteful bite of his food. i chuckle at his behavior and excuse myself to the kitchen to clean up.

trying my best to keep my blistered thumb out of contact with anything, cleaning takes me a lot longer than i want it to. i'm about to start the dishwasher when i realize peter still has his bowl in the living room.

"you'd think mr. stark would have a robot to clean the dishes instead of-" i stop my sentence short when im confronted with an empty room, no peter. his finished bowl lay there on the coffee table, with the cheesy fork thrown messily next to it. with a grimace, i pick up after the boy and finally go to finish things up.

it's not like peter to be so...there one minute and gone the next. he's always the one to stick around after all the fun has been had and just, be there. but for the past day, he wasn't. and i know i shouldn't worry about it, being here specifically is stressful, but the more i repeat it over and over again in my head- the more it starts to sound like a really lame excuse.

i let my feet lead me back to my room, hesitating only slightly when i pass peters closed door. it's late, no use in trying to talk to him now. he just needs rest. we both do.

with that thought in mind, i make my way into my room, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. i'm already in pajamas, as i wasn't the one who went on patrol tonight.

my room is alarmingly blank. white walls, no pictures, no personality. at one point i plan to decorate it, and hopefully by then, peter will be comfortable enough to help me. a smile grazes my face when i finally sit down on the edge of my bed, it's comfortable, and i silently thank tony for providing the best for peter and i while we stay here.

i peer underneath the bed frame and pull out the black bag that holds my most valuable belongings. i unzip the top and pull out my utility belt, along with all my knives. i give an amused sigh as i think about people's reactions if they were to ever find these. i'll admit, i may have a few too many knives in my possession, but each one comes in handy every time i go out. and let's be real, you can't expect me to go around and pick up each knife i've thrown after every fight.

my ears perk up when a small creak comes from the other side of my bedroom door. the light in the hallway casts a shadow of two feet i can barely see through the crack along the floor. with my breath hitched in my throat, i slowly stand up to not make any noise.

i know the shadow behind the door is peter. and as i tiptoe my way over to the door, i keep a hold of the breath in my throat, so afraid to scare him away. he keeps moving his weight between his feet, causing the hardwood floors to creak with every adjustment. i move one hand to rest against the doorknob, the other barely skimming the white wood of the door. i let go of the air i’m holding and the movement on the other side halts.

i stop too, wanting him to knock or simply open the door. it has only been a day and the lack of interaction from peter is enough to pull on my heartstrings. much to my disappointment, his footsteps retreat back down the hallway and away from me for the umpteenth time today. leaving me to rest my forehead gently against the cold surface of the door.

peter's pov.

no part of me really wanted to leave edie after i finished my food. i wanted to stay and watch movies and tell her about my first night out. i wanted to see if her thumb really was okay. then the nagging part of my brain kicked in and suddenly i couldn't stand the idea of her walking back in the room, seeing me looking like the biggest idiot still in my goddamn suit.

it's small things like that that keep me from knocking on her door too.

i somehow find myself standing in front of her bedroom door. the time is almost past midnight and my hands are sweaty and oh my god there's a stain on my sweatpants and my hair probably looks a mess and i can't do this. i can't do this. what am i doing?

and then i know she's there. on the other side of the door, just waiting. waiting for me to do something, anything. i want to. i want to walk in and flop on her bed and just talk and smile and laugh at her bad jokes, but then she lets out a sigh. a sigh that tells me she's upset, or lonely. so i raise my hand to knock.

and i don't do it. i walk back to my room and close the door behind me.

-

a few awkward days into the future, i'm again- in my room. the past days rushed by as edie and i remained in our separate corners and patrolled when it was our turn, both afraid to make any sort of move, or at least, i was. small greetings in the hallway, eating dinner together in silence, and secret glances cast across the room were really all the contact we had recently. that was, until now.

she snuck up on me like a wild cat- stealth and agility giving her the upper hand as i made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the kitchen. just as i'm about to take my first bite, the entire thing is knocked out of my hand and onto the ground.

i snap my head up to see edie in her black suit, looking smug and proud of herself.

"no time for food, peter, we gotta train." she chirps at me with a smile that she tries her best to hide. i look between her and my ruined sandwich splayed across the floor, clear annoyance taking over my features. she chooses to ignore that, i guess.

"get that spidey suit on. meet you on the mat in five minutes," she calls out as she turns and runs for the training room. i let my eyes follow her figure until she's out of sight, only then do i turn to the mess on the ground and clean it up as fast as i can. i get ready faster than ever, eager to see what she has in store.

i slow down a few feet outside the door from my fast pace, not wanting her to think i'm too excited after she destroyed my afternoon snack. when i get to the room, she's nowhere in sight. looking back now, i don't know why i didn't see it coming.

with a soft grunt, she attacks me from behind and we both tumble to the ground, i'm trapped underneath her on my stomach as she holds one of my arms behind my back.

"gotcha." she whispers in my ear. i almost pass out right there from embarrassment, but i'd be lying if i said i'm not in the mood for some revenge for my sandwich.

i raise my free hand above my head and shoot a web that reaches the ceiling, pulling myself out from under her and away from her reach. with a sly smile beneath my mask, i taunt her, "come and get me now, wolfie."

then she does something i didn't know was even an option. she raises her arm and points it to the ceiling, a hook shoots out of her suit and clamps onto the concrete next to my head. with that, she propels herself upwards and grabs me by the ankle, ultimately taking me down.

now i'm overwhelmed by how bad i'm being beaten. i'm spiderman, why am i struggling so hard right now?

"i came prepared, parker. don't think i didn't learn from last time." edie teases as she walks around me in a wide circle. finally coming to kneel in front of me, she continues, "i have a proposal for you," she pauses to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, "we'll fight, one to one, no weapons or webs, just us. first one down for ten seconds is the loser."

suddenly wanting out of this situation due to utter embarrassment, i speak up, "well, damn, looks like i've been down longer than ten seconds, i must be the los-" she cuts me off.

"no no no, we'll wipe the slate. get up, mr. parker." she offers me a hand, which i reluctantly take, "and to make it interesting- if you win, i'll go on patrol for you tonight. and if i win," she pauses again, eyeing me up and down, "you have to tell me why you've had a stick up your ass this past week."

my eyes widen, i clear my throat and try to come up with a cover story in my head, "wh-what are you talking about? there is no stick up my-" she cuts me off. again.

"save it, peter. there is a piece of wood stuck up your ass and clearly, it's making you a grumpy boy. and hey, you only have to share if i win." she says it with a look that makes me swallow thickly, but i keep my facade up.

"alright then, let's do this."

with that, she unclasps the utility belt that hugs her waist and tosses it to the side, flinching a little at the harsh sound of sharp pangs of metal hitting the concrete. i can't just take my web shooters off, considering they were a part of my suit, but i pledge to her that i won't use them.

the fight is on when she begins circling the blue mat slowly. i follow in suit, raising my arms in a fighting position. in the moments leading up to the first move, i watch her figure waltz along the outskirts of the mat, her hips swaying naturally with each calculated step she takes. her eyes are trained on mine, or at least the expressive ones on my mask.

she charges at me with fire in her eyes, swinging two punches, one left and one right. i dodge both of them easily, simply stepping to each side as her fists fly past my head. edie huffs heavily and moves on to taking jabs at my stomach, only able to hit me once, but i'd be lying if i said it doesn't throw me off a little.

of course, with that moment of weakness, she ruthlessly grabs my arm and flings me over her shoulder, a move i'm growing to hate coming from her. once on the ground, she sits on top of me, thighs pinning down my arms on each side as she begins to count, "one, two, three..."

with a gruff grunt, i flip my legs up and around her neck, knocking her off of me and to the side as i scramble away from her. getting back onto my feet, i pivot around to avoid another angry punch that comes towards my skull. she throws one more, and i catch it in my hand, stopping her movement as she stares at me with shock.

i twist her arm behind her back and push her down on her knees, she lets out a yelp that hurts my heart, until she picks up one foot and jabs me in the leg, making me let out a yelp of my own. edie is instantly back on her feet and this time she goes for my legs again, lunging towards me and tackling me once again, "get ready to spill your guts, parker," she teases. "three, four, five..."

a horrible, mind-bending wash of nerves washes over me and as she gets closer to ten, the more energy i gather to get the girl off of me.

"seven, eight, nine..."

before she reaches ten, i mindlessly grab her by the neck and flip us over, slamming her back into the mat with more force than i realize at the time.

i immediately begin counting in my head as i hold her there with my hand, my arm shaking, breaths loud and heavy.

one, two, three...

her eyes are locked on me, she's wrapping her hands around mine.

four, five, six...

she's clawing at my hands, her eyes desperate and...

seven, eight, nine...

she's scared.

i fling myself off of her. my breathing still ragged and it hurts my lungs with every shaky inhale. i can't meet her eyes. not after they stare into mine with the only emotion i never wanted to see.

she's scared. of me. and suddenly i can't breathe. i collapse back onto the mat with a shallow thud, staring at the ceiling with a foggy haze clouding my vision. it's silent for a while, aside from the sound of our bodies struggling to fill our lungs with air.

"okay. i'm gonna head out. to patrol." edie's voice is soft and airy. and my heart is broken.

-

she left earlier than technically necessary. our patroling hours were from dusk til whenever it felt right to leave the city. she had been gone for a couple of hours and the sun was just now setting.

after what happened, i laid on the mat in the training room for a long time, not able to move as i processed the previous events. eventually, i got up. with sluggish movements, i arrived in my room and successfully stumbled out of my suit and into my bed. that's what i'm doing now. laying in bed and listening to soft music play from my phone, hoping sleep will take over my body sooner rather than later.

i roll from my back onto my side to face the nightstand next to me. a small glimmer of light reflects off of a small piece of technology. my comm. with a sigh, i reach for it and nestle it in my ear before closing my eyes and slipping away.

"pete? peter, i need you to listen to me. please be listening." a small voice pleads in my head. i raise my hand and swipe at it, as if it's a fly buzzing in my ear.

"come on. let me know you're there." the voice sounds off again. this time i open my eyes and acknowledge the words and where they’re coming from. i shoot up in bed, now sitting straight up, wiping the sweat away from my brow.

"edie? i'm here, e." i mumble, not trying to hide the worry in my voice.

she lets out a breath, "oh, oh good. peter i need you to meet me at the back door, the one in the garage."

i nod and spring out of bed, wasting no time to do what she's asked. "pete?" she whispers. it's so soft and so frail in my ear. i gulp nervously at the sound of it.

"i'm coming, hun. almost there." i whisper back as i round the staircase that leads down to the garage. there, through the glass doors, edie stands. more like leans against the clear surface with a weary smile on her face. i watch as she raises her thumb to the finger pad and the doors slide open. i watch as she takes a few slow steps to meet me. i watch her hands as they slide down her left side, coming back up, covered in blood.

and i catch her as she falls forwards, right into my arms.

|| taglist; @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @whycantileaveyou @lovewolfspirit

let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist :)

[whats-the-story-tc]

13th-15th of May, 2020

"The One Where the Mask Drops"

[INCREDIBLY LONG SORRY]

Hey, I'm not dead! And to show you how incredibly not dead I am, let me tell you a story.

It's around 2 AM that Wednesday, I'm going to sleep. God knows I'm incredibly exhausted, but there's one last thing I needed to write into my diary. One last thing I couldn't go to sleep without.

"please be good to me today"

I went to sleep hoping that finally, after two weeks of feeling like shit when I thought about us, the tide would turn.

That morning, it rained. I immediately remembered a rainy Wednesday morning just like this two months ago, when the rain brought V back to me. I got very excited. Things were going to change for the better again, I felt it. Suddenly, I couldn't wait for class.

8:30 AM that morning, I'm getting ready for my 9 AM class. Google Classroom–notif. V. Private message. Uh-oh, I thought. The make-or-break moment, and not a minute too soon.

V: Thank you very much for your work!

I almost laughed out loud. "Wow, [Name], don't strain yourself!" I remember saying as I read it.

One infuriatingly boring English (as a foreign language) class later, it was time for V's class. I was ready five minutes in advance, but as I went on The Platform That Shall Not Be Named... no one was there. I found it odd. Usually, there are a couple of us by now. Anyway, I didn't enter the voice channel. I waited five minutes in solitude outside for someone to show up.

Well, V did. And I wasn't very well going to leave her alone, now, was I?

She greeted me 0.1 second after I joined. I tried not to be awkward about it just being the two of us, I immediately stroke up a conversation. I told her how I was already waiting, all the stuff you guys already know, and she asked if we had any lessons prior. I told her about one third of us having had English just now. We spent about two minutes alone together, as I rambled about the awkward and unfortunate situation and she listened, mostly in silence.

She was very audibly tired, and said very little, that much was to be expected from a 10 AM class. But... I might just be overthinking it, but I heard something there that concerned me. Something crushed and disappointed, something that told me she wasn't expecting only one person to show. There was something painfully lonely in that voice.

Bookworm Friend joined, about 3-ish minutes into class, and Debate Friend a minute or two later, but they were both muted, so I carried on. I asked V to tell us what happened in school in the past two days, what we missed out on, enthusiastically replying to everything I could, so she wouldn't feel like she was speaking into the abyss, so she'd know I was trying my hardest to be there for her. Then she brought up the tests she was correcting at the moment, even naming a really stupid mistake she encountered with a little laugh. But what really smacked me in the gut was when I brought up the small attendance, and she said: "There's nothing we can do." in this very melancholy voice, like she was giving up. She even texted the class group chat that she's waiting.

How do I know that she wasn't just simply tired, and that's why she sounded like that, so worn and discouraged, especially at first? Because as soon as the others, who don't belong in my friends' circle, started showing up, her voice and entire behaviour did a 180°, as if she suddenly woke up. But she didn't. I know for a fact she didn't. Nobody just wakes up that suddenly.

It took me until that afternoon to realise that I'd just spent 5 minutes with the real V, the same V I spoke to in early December, who didn't try to hide her emotions. Not from me.

If you only heard the next thirty minutes of class, you could never tell she was feeling sad to begin with. And there was a LOT to be heard. Starting with how she mispronounced "cheat somebody out of sth" as "EAT somebody out", which is... well... all I'm saying is, I fell on my knees and tried to laugh as silently as I could. Prime moment.

She said something along the lines of "We're all very sober here", after which I just texted my friends:

S: "Darling, you tell us drinking stories every two weeks, would you mind if I didn't believe you?"

and sometime after, this text was also sent, for which I will not be offering context:

S: "[Name], that was enough sex for 10 AM, I'm gonna pass out"

And, of course, after all that went down, V saying "you can't satisfy everyone" sounded VERY different.

At some point, I attempted to joke around, but as she was reading a message in the chat that was sent at the same time, I got quite the half-assed response. But what happened in the last five minutes? Oh, that changed everything.

Art Friend knew how upset I was that V didn't reply at all to my assignment, and I told her I wanted to talk to V about it. During class, she texted me if I still wanted it, and I told her no, because I'm no longer upset with her. And what does this madwoman do? SHE ASKS ABOUT THE ASSIGNMENTS.

V is absolutely enthusiastic, she goes on about how much she liked what she saw and how creative we were. Art Friend asks about hers. Then comes my leap of faith. It's now, or never.

"I hope I didn't go too far..." I said, a bit nervous, not knowing how she'd react. She never did like me trying to undermine myself. And you guys... she chuckled. Incredibly soft and warm and just what I needed to feel at ease. That already threw me off, but then, she followed it up with: "No, I really-really liked it." I could tell she was smiling on the other side of the screen and that she was completely honest. I had to sit down after that, because I just couldn't believe what I heard. That I really just witnessed all that, that I got a reaction I couldn't overthink and/or misinterpret, because I heard it with my own two ears, in real time. I felt like I could do anything in the world.

And yet, the next day, I didn't do my usual notes for her test. Because what did Specs do all evening instead? I was fucking singing. I couldn't deny being a goddamn theatre kid if I tried.

Friday. The day of the test. I'm restlessly taking notes in the morning, but I don't have the time to get into the analytics of poems, only the basics of the dude's life and works. It makes me incredibly frightened, because V's tests are only easy if you come prepared — if you have no clue what she's talking about, abandon all hope. I had absolutely everything open for cheating that I could open, and you guys? I lucked out. Most of the test was just "Explain what [insert quote] means in 2-3 sentences", and if there's something I excel at, as you've probably noticed, it's talking. It was easy as could be.

The only thing making me anxious were my classmates. They were all trying to ask for help, constant questions and begging, everyone is hopeless, because they couldn't give two shits about preparing beforehand. They were all assured some loser was gonna give them the answers. And the some loser was me. I gave it to them, everything except for the final, longer essay. That was private, only meant for V to read. After all, how was I supposed to show them my essay, that ends like this?:

"Even if our existence is finite, it's always worth fighting for happiness."

And yes, yes it is. Always. Look at me. I powered through weeks of a shitstorm, where every single day felt like years, where I no longer knew or cared what was going to happen. And let me tell you, the sun always shines beyond the clouds. You just can't see it yet. But GOD, you will. You will.

I needed time to write this. There's loads going on at the moment, not necessarily V-related, and I'm trying to work my way through it gently enough that I can make it the end sane and healthy. Currently, it's three weeks since all this happened. One and a half weeks left until school ends. I might get to see V in person again, but we'll see how it goes. All I know is that whatever happens, I can do it. Because even if my existence is finite, it's always worth fighting for happiness.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]