#knitting it's much easier for me to see and understand how everything is working together

[emeraldreverie]

rando question, as i lurk/hover around the fringes of fiblr community (fiber craftblr?) but any other crafters also have aphantasia? how do you work with it?

[albertxylin]

Time to post (one of) my favourite Ursula K LeGuin quotes:

"The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. This is the treason of the artist; a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain."

I was also about to leave it at that, but this allows me to get on my soapbox about slam poetry and why I insist on saying I'm a spoken word poet instead, so buckle up for a rant.

(also disclaimer that this is informed by my experiences and should not be taken as a universal critique of poetry slams as a concept)

To those that don't know, poetry slams are judged. Five random audience members are chosen to be the judges. They are then encouraged to yell/write their scores, and the audience is encouraged to heckle them if they agree/disagree with their opinions. This can work when a close-knit community of poets come together, but when a judge can be someone who's never listened to poetry in their life, that can become a problem. I understand why this is part of the tradition (removing gatekeepers/making it communal/giving a voice to those who don't normally have one), but it often means that judging is less on skill/quality, and more on the topics involved, simply because they don't have that experience. They judge on the only thing they can really understand, which is the intensity of the emotion felt. And that tends to be pain or heartbreak or something similarly tragic.

That's not the biggest problem; and it is important to have differing opinions. But it is part of why slam poetry has a reputation for being either very political, or very much about trauma/pain. Because if you want to get scored better, you look at what people who score well do, and often what people learn is to write about the political or the personal in a way that's filled with pain and anger. It can become an exercise in validating/invalidating trauma, and nobody is comfortable in that situation.

The main problem is that people end up in a trauma "arm's race", where they dig out the most personal parts of themselves for judgement and validation. Because winning something, or simply scoring higher than someone else, even if there is no prize, is validation. And likewise scoring low can be invalidating. If you write about a raw breakup, or trauma from your childhood, and you get a low score, it's really hard not to take it personally. So people write incredibly personal things, thing that might belong more in therapy than on stage, and regardless of how they score the lessons learned are not what I would call helpful, for the artist or their art.

I would prefer to never again see someone break down crying on stage, unable to finish a poem. I've had conversations with other poets about how some poems become uncomfortable to read, and the conflicted feelings that exist when your best work is tied to a low point in your life. I very clearly remember a poem which included the line "is it fucked up I want my grandpa to die so I have something to write about?"

And that's why I try to write positive poetry. Because that quote stuck with me, and clarified everything I did not want my art to be. And I get that it's easier to write about something fucked up and making that resonate instead of the sublime beauty of...sitting on a couch or something. But as someone who's made people cry with a poem about rain, let me tell you that it is worth looking for the joy. It is worth searching for the profound in the humble. it is worth all the time and effort and doubt to look upon the world that lies broken around us and to declare "I still see beauty".

In art, positive feelings are dumb and negative feelings are smart. This is an association I've noticed in especially online discussions of media, it is an error that has gone uncorrected for entirely too long.

This association is bolstered whenever someone says that you shouldn't criticize the mario movie too harshly because it's "fun" and light frivolous things are self justifying. This association is bolstered whenever people continuously categorize media that makes you feel bad as a strictly adult afair, that anything sad or disquieting or revolting is somehow trying to outsmart you and you're actually very cool & hip for rejecting it in favor of dumb pleasures.

This association leaves two categories of art completely outside of discussion and dying for air. Firstly, art that is joyous and life affirming in a mature and reflective way. It'd seem almost sacrilegious to describe Kiki's Delivery Service as "Wholesome," even though it is such prime comfort cinema there's just so much more to it than that. It's a tangibly adult perspective on the themes it presents. But the "happy=dumb" association is set so deep that nearly all critical discussion about miyazaki's movies is about how pretty and sweet they are. They exist in this category of being overexposed yet somehow still unappreciated.

But then there's the inverse, art that makes you feel like shit in a simple and single minded way. Irreversible is the worst time you can have with a movie, probably, and it (affectionately) has nothing going on under the hood. It's a pain box. This category of art tends to confound folks far more than the previous, it elicits a "what's the point??" usually, or if any concession is made towards allowing uncomfortable art to exist it's with the caveat that it has to "justify" it's discomfort. Simple displeasures don't have the same assumed good faith as simple pleasures. The surface level ways in which a film like Irreversible makes you feel like you've been beat up after it's finished? Not worth mentioning.

There's graver consequences to these two boulder-sized blindspots in artistic conception. Like, because negative emotions are smart, people think that making entertainment out of real life tragedies can be de-facto respectful so long as they make the emotions in their entertainment negative enough. It doesn't matter that Netflix's Dahmer plays defense for the killer and uses the image of black people as a boringly virtuous collection of punching bags to milk tragedy from, if it just makes you feel bad enough, gives the surface level impression of graveness, then it's fine that you're making entertainment out of real life people's personal real life tragedy that still exists in recent memory for many people.

I want to elevate joy, bring it into critical attention, stop taking it for granted. I also want to de-elevate misery, take it off it's false pedestal, let us realize that it's all art. FEELINGS are self justifying, not just good ones.

[whiteqnn]

PURE [4] - Corpse Husband x Fem! Reader

A/N: I’m back. Shout-out to my sister @mojajasnoscmrokirozproszy , who encouraged me into finishing this part.

part 1 

part 2 

part 3 

part 5

PURE [4] 

Corpse was confused, to say the least. He stared at the screen with his brows furrowed, not exactly understanding what just happened, or what caused Y/N to leave so suddenly. He thought they were all having fun, or at least that’s the impression Y/N gave while interacting with other players. 

Was she just pretending she’d had fun when in reality, she didn’t want to spend time with them? 

He knew it was none of his business. They didn’t even know each other, outside of these two short games they’ve both been part of. But Corpse was quick to get attached to new people, and Y/N’s sweet voice, her innocent demeanor, and pure personality made him instantly like her... 

Perhaps it wasn’t exactly a good thing that he felt so worried when she left, given the fact that two of them have spoken maybe for a few minutes since they met each other. But Corpse couldn’t help it, and certainly couldn’t stop this weird feeling that something was wrong and that he needed to make sure that Y/N was okay. After all, he was the only one who knew that she left. Except for his audience, of course. 

So the moment her white little astronaut suddenly disappeared, Corpse went on a killing spree. He didn’t even care about that whole finish my lyrics thing he decided to terrorize his friends with, he just wanted to finish this game and check on Y/N. It was obvious that she wasn’t telling the truth. Even though it looked like she was trying really hard to contain her emotions, he could still hear her quavering voice. It was too hard to hide, and he knew it firsthand. That’s why he made it his point to at least check on her.  

“Jesus Corpse, you just went full berserk on us...” Felix murmured when the last person was killed, and Corpse could see a sign victory on his screen. It didn’t make him smile though, not how it usually would. 

“It was great though! Let’s do it again, but maybe on the other map?” Sykkuno suggested, clearly very excited about this hide and seek game they’ve come up with. 

“Sure, let’s get the first one maybe?”

“Actually, would you guys mind if we had a little break?” Corpse asked before they could start another game. “We’ve been playing for a little while now...”

“Ah, yeah! Bathroom break!” came Rae’s response, followed by a few hums of approval. Corpse sighed in relief. He was afraid his worried voice would draw the attention of other players, but they didn’t seem to notice it. 

“All right, is ten minutes good?” asked Sean, and when everyone agreed, Corpse excused himself from his audience and muted his mic. He grabbed his phone and unlocked it, only to be hit by a sudden realization.

He didn’t even have Y/N’s number. 

“Fuck...” he cursed quietly under his breath, running a hand through his hair. How the fuck was he supposed to check on her? He couldn’t use discord, he was still streaming after all... Maybe Twitter would work? Nah, she probably wouldn’t even notice his messages. What was left then?

Of course. 

Sean.

Corpse didn’t even think about any explanation as he quickly typed in a message to the said man, asking if he had Y/N’s number. The response came almost immediately. 

“Yeah, I have. Why?” 

Okay, now what? He couldn’t just tell him what happened. Corpse knew that Sean and Y/N were close, but he felt like it wouldn’t be fair towards the girl if he told Sean what happened. Maybe she didn’t want anyone to know... Maybe she didn’t want to speak to anyone. 

Him included. 

But Corpse felt as if he had to do it because that was something he wished someone would do for him if the roles were reversed. To at least show that he cared, that she wasn’t alone with whatever it was that bothered her... 

Was he being intrusive, for wanting to make sure that everything was okay? And what if she was totally fine and he’d just end up making a complete fool out of himself?

“Not that I haven’t already made a fool out of myself...” he mumbled under his breath, his fingers quickly typing the response to Sean. However, before he could finish it, the said man’s name appeared on his screen with an upcoming call. 

It was so unexpected that Corpse almost dropped the phone.

“Um, hey man” he said after picking up, his hands trembling as he tried to come up with some good explanation as to why exactly he needed Y/N’s number. “Look I-”

“Does this have something to do with her disappearance?” Sean cut him off, leaving Corpse with his mouth hung open, utterly shocked.  

“I um- no. I just wanted to call her and... cause I don’t have her number...”

“Corpse, I heard what she had told you...” Sean sighed into the phone “I was flying around you after you murdered me.”

“I...” Corpse tried once again and again found himself at the loss of words. His brows furrowed suddenly as he realized something “Wait- are you still streaming?” 

“I left for a moment to grab something to drink and call Y/N. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t say anything on the stream.” 

Corpse sighed in relief. If Sean managed to somehow play it off, then his fans maybe haven’t figured out what was going on. He didn’t want them to attack Y/N’s social media with tons of questions she obviously wouldn’t answer. 

“Do you know what happened?” Corpse asked quietly, hoping that maybe Sean knew something more that would ease his nerves. He hoped that it wasn’t anything serious, that maybe Y/N just had a bad day. “She left so suddenly and I got a little worried...” 

For a moment there was silence between the two of them, Corpse impatiently awaiting an answer and Sean thinking about the right words... or wondering whether he should tell him the reason for Y/N’s disappearance in the first place. 

“It’s- ugh.” Sean groaned, before letting out a heavy sigh “It stays between us, all right? I don’t want others to start texting her out of nowhere, asking if she’s okay. She would probably kill me.”

“Yeah, absolutely” Corpse nodded his head rapidly, even though Sean couldn’t see him. 

“Okay... So I don’t know the exact reason of her disappearance...” he began, and Corpse felt his heart sink in disappointment. “But I have some suspicion.”

“Can you be a little more specific, Sean? We don’t have much time before the next game...” Corpse didn’t want to sound rude but he was slowly growing impatient, and even more nervous when he still wasn’t able to check on Y/N and make sure that she’s okay.

“She received lots of hate after our last stream.” Sean finally explained, although his voice sounded quite reluctant. “And when I say lots, I mean lots, Corpse.”

“What?” Corpse grunted, his brows knitted together in confusion “What do you mean?”

“Oh you know, man... Comments on Twitter, on her Instagram, even under her latest video...” Sean let out an exasperated sigh “Apparently, some people are not happy that she’s playing with us.”

“Why?” Corpse managed to utter, completely shocked at the news. For some reason, it was the last thing he expected Sean to say. It didn’t even cross his mind that someone as sweet and polite as Y/N might have to deal with this kind of issue. 

She was always so kind, why would anyone hate on her? 

“You know how some people act online...” Sean murmured, his voice clearly gloomy, as opposed to his usual cheerful tone. “They think she shouldn’t be playing with us cause she’s not popular enough. Some consider her annoying, not funny enough, and so on...”

“What does popularity have to do with who we’re playing with?” Corpse almost growled these words, feeling anger slowly bubbling up in his stomach. He couldn’t comprehend why anyone would act this way towards Y/N, towards this little angel as Sean put it last time they played, towards this sweet, innocent girl, his partner in crime... 

“That’s what I told her before the stream” Sean explained with a sigh “And that she shouldn’t worry about what strangers think of her... but it’s easier said than done.” 

“You think she received another text or something?”

“I don’t know man” Sean sighed “I tried calling her like ten times already and she didn’t answer. It’s not like her to leave so suddenly, without saying goodbye. I’m worried something happened...” 

Corpse clenched his jaw, closing his eyes for a second. If Y/N didn’t answer Sean’s calls, why would she answer his? They barely knew each other, while Sean was her best friend.  

“Maybe... I’ll try calling her?” Corpse suggested anyway, his voice low and almost shy. He figured it was worth at least a try. 

Sean was quiet for a moment as if contemplating what to do. They were already running out of time, and Corpse didn’t know what to do. On one hand, he didn’t want to end the stream and leave his fans, he felt bad at the thought alone of disappearing so soon and disappointing them... But on the other, he couldn’t just leave Y/N like that. Especially, since as Sean explained, it wasn’t like her to act this way. It only proved that whatever happened was rather serious.

“Y’know what?” Sean suddenly said “I’ll give you her number, maybe she’ll pick up from you.”

“Thank you, Sean” Corpse said quietly, ready to end the call, only to be stopped by Sean’s words. 

“Look... I know I shouldn’t be asking you to do it, but... could you maybe try talking some sense into her?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable with this request “I feel like you’d be able to calm her down...”

“I...” Corpse stuttered, running a hand through his hair “I’ll try, okay? I’m not sure if she’ll want to talk about it though, I’m basically a stranger, so...”

“Corpse, she agreed to join us only after reading your last tweet.” 

Oh. 

His heart fluttered with something that didn’t seem like growing panic. And even though his face was expressing his worry, his lip corners formed a small, bashful smile. And whether he liked it or not, his cheeks turned completely red.

“I’ll... I’ll see what I can do” he managed to reply, before ending the call. 

Corpse ran a hand through his locks and down his face, releasing a heavy breath he didn’t know he was holding. He considered getting Y/N’s number a difficult task which, however, turned out to be the easiest one. Now came the real challenge. Calling her. 

For a moment, he just stared at the screen of his phone, scanning the new message from Sean, which consisted of Y/N’s phone number. It looked as if he was memorizing the number when in reality, he just felt panic overtaking his body and complete chaos in his mind. 

Let’s say she picks up the phone, and then what? Should he just say hi? Introduce himself? 

“Hi it’s me, the guy you basically don’t know and who became paranoid after you disappeared from the game” 

 Yeah, sure. Perfect introduction for the pep talk he was supposed to deliver. 

Why was it always that he acted almost as if on instinct one second, only to start having second thoughts a moment later. He couldn’t back out now when he had already got her number. Not when there was also another person counting on him. Not when he still didn’t know what the fuck happened, and for some reason was determined to find out. 

And then was the problem of his voice, which suddenly seemed stuck in his throat. It was a very weird feeling, typical for one to get while being on the verge of a panic attack. As if there was a need to talk, but the body refused to. As if his vocal cords were paralyzed and not eager to cooperate. 

As if it was him who just experienced something strongly upsetting, not Y/N. 

Corpse fidgeted with his phone for a moment, before deciding against the idea of calling the girl. He figured he wouldn’t be able to utter a single word if she picked up the phone from the unknown number in the first place. If she did though, she’d probably consider it some misdialed call or some prank. Which was the last thing he wanted her to think.

Instead, he opted on sending her a text. 

He sat still for a moment, thinking about a message that wouldn’t right away reveal the cause of his concern, but which would say enough to figure out who sent it. His thoughts drifted back to the game they were both playing, remembering his stupid comments and her gentle voice. His fingers typed out the message almost automatically. 

“Wanna jump into the lava with me?”

He hesitated just for a second, before sending the text, his heart doing a backflip in his chest the moment he pressed the send button. Corpse gripped the phone tightly in his hands, his eyes staring at the screen and waiting impatiently for those three little dots indicating that the other person is typing a response to appear. He waited and waited, and a lump slowly formed in his throat when Y/N didn’t respond immediately. 

Was he really getting paranoid? 

Maybe he was just tired. Or she had a bad day. Or she just found this game boring.

Or she didn’t want to play with them. Or she thought his comments were annoying. 

“I’m an idiot” Corpse muttered to himself and slapped a hand on his forehead, pushing those thoughts away. Deep down he knew that wasn’t the case, but the longer Y/N didn’t respond, the louder was the voice at the back of his head, telling him that her problems were none of his business and he shouldn’t be asking for her number in the first place.

But it was the right thing to do. He knew it, Sean knew it, and Corpse also hoped that Y/N did not perceive his text as some pathetic joke. He waited for a couple of minutes, before typing another message:

“I’m here, partner, if you need to talk.” 

He felt the need to assure her that despite the ongoing stream and the other players probably already waiting for him to return, he was there for her. That’s what he considered the best option, not to force her into talking, but to let her know that she wasn’t alone. And that it would take just one word from her to make Corpse drop everything and listen to her. 

After what seemed like an eternity of staring at his phone and analyzing his own messages, Corpse put his phone away, realizing that Y/N wasn’t going to reply anytime soon. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed in himself, and guilty as well. Perhaps it would be a better idea to call her, but at that moment he wasn’t able to trust his own voice. He thought about sending her another message but decided against it. Another new text was probably the last thing she needed, with her phone being drowned by hundreds of notifications from angered, and worried fans. 

All Corpse could do was hope that she saw his texts and that she knew she wasn’t all alone. He sure as hell wasn’t going to make her feel as if she was obliged to confide in him. After all, he was a stranger. 

Then again... sometimes to understand a problem and look at it from a different, new perspective, what one needed was, indeed, a complete stranger. 

-

The next two hours felt almost like an eternity. And a complete hell to Corpse. He tried his best to focus on the game and interacting with his fans, but no matter what, his eyes would drift towards his phone every now and then. Hoping to see Y/N’s name pop up on his screen, with a message saying that everything was fine. 

But then again... would it be enough to calm his nerves? Maybe she’d write something like that just so he wouldn’t worry. Just so he would leave her alone.

She might as well just tell him to fuck off...

The fact that he received so many notifications all the time, especially now, during a stream, didn’t really help. Each time his phone lit up with a new notification, he would crane his neck with the hope of seeing Y/N’s response, only to be disappointed when it turned out to be just some new comment or someone tagging him in an instastory. Something that usually made him really happy now was the reason for his irritation. 

He couldn’t focus on the game itself either, finding it difficult to do his tasks and form some logical arguments during discussions. He didn’t really care, to be honest, when people threw him away almost at the start of the game. Winning or being the best Impostor was currently the last thing on his mind.

So when he said his goodbyes after the last round of Among Us and ended the stream, after thanking his fans, Corpse didn’t know what to do with himself. The game, even though he didn’t really pay much attention to it, provided at least some distraction from his phone, which was still silent when it came to Y/N’s texts. She either didn’t see them or didn’t want to see them. Corpse could only guess what was her reaction if there was any. 

He’d exchanged a few messages with Sean though, the man asking about Y/N during the stream and after it ended. Corpse couldn’t stop the guilt from growing even more when Sean expressed his concerns regarding Y/N and her absence. He knew the older streamer counted on him when it came to checking on the girl, but, obviously, he failed at getting a simple message from her. 

What was he even hoping to achieve in the first place? That she will text back right away, telling him everything that bothered her, confessing all her problems? He would have to be a total idiot to expect this girl to react to his messages.

It was all so overwhelming and frustrating at the same time that he felt almost nauseous. 

Leaving his phone in his room, Corpse walked to his small kitchen to grab a glass of water. The cold liquid brought much-needed relief to his burning throat, giving him a momentary sensation of comfort. He tested his voice, clearing his throat carefully and mumbling some nonsense under his breath. A sigh left his lips once he realized he could talk again and this weird feeling disappeared. 

He splashed his face with cold water and returned to his room, plopping down on his chair and giving his phone a quick glance. Perhaps he didn’t expect Y/N to reply to his texts at all because at first, he didn’t even notice her name on the screen of his phone. He looked back to his computer, almost out of habit, glancing between the tabs he had opened on his screen before. 

And it struck him suddenly, making him almost jump out of his skin when he realized that she did text him back. 

Grabbing his phone quickly, he unlocked it and opened the messages, almost hitting the one with Y/N’s name on it. 

“Hey, partner.” was all the message said. And yet it made Corpse’s heart almost jump out of his chest, both from relief and a sudden feeling of panic. 

She texted him back. Now, what the fuck was he supposed to do?! 

He stared at her text for a second as if trying to convince himself that it was real and he didn’t accidentally pass out on his desk, dreaming that Y/N takes his comments and texts seriously. 

When he came to the conclusion that the text was, indeed, real, and Y/N probably expected him to write something back, he thought about the best way of asking her what happened. On one hand, he knew from Sean what could possibly be the reason for her disappearance. On the other, what obviously mattered was Y/N’s version. How to get it out of her though, without being too intrusive?

Corpse decided that the best option will be to make some dumb, small talk, which would ease her (and his) nerves.

“Y’know, I almost didn’t manage to finish the mission without you” he texted her, concluding that playing along this partner thing would maybe work. In his text, Corpse referred to the one time he was the Impostor after Y/N left, and which happened to be completely boring without her running around “Had Toast and others suspecting my every step all the time.”

This time, much to his relief, the three little dots appeared almost immediately.

“I’m glad you managed to kill’em all nevertheless.”

He imagined her saying it with that sweet voice of hers, which made him snicker, whether he liked it or not. While thinking of some right response, Corpse couldn’t help but wonder how did she know that he managed to kill every crewmate during that round... she wasn’t playing anymore then, so that could only mean she watched his stream.

“Not gonna lie though, everything would go way smoother hadn’t my partner in crime left me on the battlefield all alone :/” he texted her back. Corpse watched intently as the three dots danced next to Y/N’s name and suddenly disappeared, then appeared back again after a few moments, only to disappear again. And for a second he panicked, that maybe this text sounded passive aggressive, or that it made Y/N blame herself for leaving the game... 

However, when her response finally came, he realized he was wrong.

“Can I call you, Corpse?” 

For the first time in a really long time, Corpse was so eager to agree on a phone call.

He replied frantically, telling her that of course, she could call him, and then waiting impatiently for the call. And when she didn’t call immediately, like he expected her to, he found himself wondering if she suddenly changed her mind and decided against the idea of calling him. 

But then his phone buzzed and her name appeared on the screen.

The device almost flew out of his hands, his heartbeat quickening and a lump forming in his throat once again.

Relax, man. It’s Y/N, your partner in crime. You’ve heard her voice before. 

But this was different. The circumstances were different and the reason for a call was different too. And now it was just the two of them, as opposed to a lobby full of friends. And Corpse tried so hard to figure out how to convince her that all the hate she receives on social media didn’t mean anything, that for a moment he forgot she was still calling.

He pressed the green button carefully, as if he was defusing a bomb, and found himself unable to utter a single word, just like before. There was silence on the other line too, as if Y/N expected him to speak up first. 

So Corpse build up the courage and took in a deep breath, before letting out a quiet, almost shy:

“Hi”

 The word left his mouth almost as a whisper, and for a moment he thought that the girl didn’t even hear it, but then her voice told him otherwise.

“Hey... Corpse” she mumbled. She sounded so different, almost as if she was sick. Her calm and soft voice was so quiet that Corpse had some trouble hearing her at first. She sounded so tired, so hurt, so defeated, that he completely forgot every advice he had managed to stock in his mind before this call. 

“It’s good to hear you, partner.” he said after a moment, realizing that asking what’s wrong wasn’t the best thing he could do at that moment. He felt that she’d probably hung up on him if he did... “I didn’t think I’d hear from you after you aborted the mission.”

He heard her sigh out a laugh at his words, his tone playfully accusatory. The girl cleared her throat and wondered for a second, before replying:

“It wasn’t exactly my mission... And if I remember correctly, you were the one who broke our partnership, chasing me around the ship.” 

He could almost hear the smile behind her words, which made his lip corners curl up slightly. He was glad she still managed to joke with him. It meant that, perhaps, it wasn’t that bad. 

“Did I kill you, though?” 

“You would if you had a chance.”

“I had plenty of chances Y/N, and I never took one” he replied right away with a chuckle. “I may be the murderer, but I’m no traitor.”

“You say that after luring me to that lava pit and killing me and Sykkuno? It was a trap all along, wasn’t it?” she asked suspiciously, but he knew she was joking “I bet you were conspiring with MrBeast all this time...”

“How dare you” he scoffed, trying to hold back his chuckle “I took you there cause it’s a special place, it was no trap! It just happened to be the wrong place and the wrong time...”

“Sure, partner”

“I’m serious!” he laughed “Besides - I apologized, and if I remember correctly, I think we both agreed that I jumped into that lava pit for you after all...”

“After they voted you off! You didn’t have any other chance!”

“Maybe it was all planned?” he said, changing his voice to more mysterious “Maybe I conspired with MrBeast so I could jump into that lava pit... and the only way to do it is by being voted off. So, either way, I kept my word.”

“Fine... whatever.”

Their laughter died down and was replaced by surprisingly comfortable silence. Corpse was happy with how the conversation started - he believed it would be easier for Y/N to explain what happened now, if she wished to explain, of course. 

“Y’know...” he began after a second, deciding to change the subject and finally address the issue. “Partners are supposed to help each other... and be there when the other person is in need...”

He was careful with his words, being full aware that Y/N might find it uncomfortable to share her problems with him. He wanted to encourage her, just slightly, if his previous texts weren’t enough. 

She sighed quietly and he could sense her reluctance. 

“But only if the other person wants partner’s help.” he added after a moment, keeping his voice as soft as he could. Y/N didn’t respond right away, but she didn’t hang up either, which Corpse took as a good sign. He gave her a couple of seconds to collect her thoughts, before asking another question: 

“What made you so upset, Y/N/N?”

He could hear her inhale the air sharply as if she had trouble breathing steadily. The line went silent, not that Corpse was surprised. He waited patiently, giving the girl the time she needed to decide whether she wanted to answer that question and what words should she choose if she did. 

And when she finally spoke up, Corpse felt as if his heart could break.

“They are just so mean...” she almost whispered, her voice cracking. He didn’t have to ask whom she meant, it was obvious. “And I don’t even know why... I didn’t do anything to those people, and yet they are so mean towards me.”

Corpse hummed in response, allowing her to keep talking. If there was one thing he knew that helped coping with stress, it was sharing it with someone else. And even though he himself had a lot on his plate, he felt the need to be that someone for Y/N. 

“I... I don’t want you to think that I’m some crybaby, who takes everything super seriously and can’t take a joke, but...” she stuttered for a moment and Corpse fought the urge to cut her off and tell her that what he thinks of her is the complete opposite. “But those comments... those weren’t jokes, Corpse. I don’t think anyone would find them funny.”

His heart ached at the sound of her quiet, weak voice. And then it angered him, that some anonymous haters managed to upset this cheerful, innocent person. How could anyone do something like that to Y/N?

“I... I’m sorry for telling you this...” she suddenly trailed off, sounding rather awkward and uncomfortable. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with my silly problems...”

“They aren’t silly as long as they are problems to you, Y/N.” 

“Yeah, but... I’m sure everyone from the group has received such comments at some point of their career... or maybe they still receive them...” she murmured almost embarrassed. “Maybe it’s no such a big deal after all...”

“Let me ask you something” Corpse said, feeling anger bubbling up in his stomach. Not directed at Y/N, of course, but at the people who made her think this way. “Imagine that someone, let’s say me, calls you because of the same reason. Would you consider telling me that online hate, or any hate for that matter, is not a big deal? That those are just my silly problems” 

She was silent for a moment, thinking about his question, and probably not expecting it in the first place. However, after a few seconds of initial surprise, she replied firmly:

“Of course not.” 

“Then why are you trying to convince yourself that they are?” he asked in what would sound like an accusatory tone, but in reality was just his voice laced with worry. “There’s no such thing as a silly problem Y/N, as long as it bothers you. If you consider it a problem, then it is a problem. And the fact that other people receive similar, or even worse comments, doesn’t mean anything. Maybe just that they are longer on Youtube and they’ve learned to deal with this kind of stuff... And your reaction? It doesn’t make you a crybaby and please Y/N, don’t ever think that way about yourself.”

He said it all so quickly and almost on one breath, letting all his frustration out and trying to form his babbling into some logical statement. 

“I understand what you’re going through...” he confessed after a moment of silence between them. “I know what it’s like to go through the ocean of positive comments and find those few which say something completely different... something that is meant to hurt you and humiliate you... Something that ruins your day, or even a couple of next few days or weeks... Something that completely overshadows everything else you’ve read about yourself. Something that people write from the safety of their own computers or phones, without showing their faces and remaining completely anonymous.”

For a moment, Corpse allowed himself to speak about his own experience, thinking that maybe when Y/N realizes that he knew exactly what she was dealing with, it would make it easier for her. “And that is the key fact, Y/N, that they are anonymous. They do what they do because no one can see them because it is comfortable for them to leave a hate comment and not face any consequences. Because they don’t have to face the person their hate is directed towards.”

“Some of the accounts were not anonymous...” Y/N mumbled, and Corpse could clearly hear that she was speaking through the tears. “People were using their public accounts, with photos and everything...”

“But let me guess, those comments weren’t even about your videos, huh? They weren’t about any of your work?” 

“Well...” she whispered, thinking about Corpse’s question. “Truth to be said, no. Most of them just looked like some kind of a personal attack on me...” 

“Exactly. It’s not even criticism, it’s just plain bullshit cowards are sharing online. They probably aren’t even able to form some logical sentence, they just combine some random words which are supposed to hurt you.”

“It works...”

“Y/N...” Corpse sighed into the phone, hearing her defeated tone. “Let me ask you another question, okay?” she hummed in response, and Corpse cleared his throat. “Tell me, whose opinion matters to you the most?”

“My friends... and my fans’“she said.

“Okay.. and whom do you consider your fan?”

“Someone who finds the content I create interesting and entertaining and takes his time to watch my videos.” she replied right away.

“Okay. Do you think that people who left those comments took their time to even watch your videos?” 

“Probably not...” she replied after a second. “Look, I know what you mean Corpse... That I shouldn’t worry about it because they are not my fans and therefore their opinion shouldn’t matter... but that’s not the case. It’s the fact alone that for some reason people spend their time hating me when I didn’t even do anything to them.”

“You didn’t do anything to them.” Corpse repeated her own words in his deep voice. “And they didn’t watch your videos. It seems like they don’t have any reason to leave those comments, right?” he asked. “I know that it’s hard Y/N, I really do, but the truth is, you can’t really have everyone leaving positive feedback under your content... There will always be someone who will consider it a good idea to send you a hateful message, just because they can, not because they have any specific reason to. Now I don’t say that’s okay... but it’s in a way like some disease. The one there’s no cure for. Even though you can’t cure it, you can make yourself immune.” 

“How, Corpse? How do you make yourself immune to messages saying that you’re a fucking annoying bitch, that you don’t deserve what you have? That you don’t deserve your friends, and you are not good enough to play with them? To spend your time with them? How do you deal with comments suggesting that you should go and kill yourself, because you’re not famous enough, and you will never be?” 

Her voice suddenly rose, and Corpse felt as his heartbeat quickened with each comment she described. He gripped his hand around the phone, his knuckles turning white and his brows furrowing in an expression of pure fury. 

He considered her words for a moment, trying to come up with the best advice, but realized there wasn’t any that would satisfy her. He could imagine the state she was in, she probably wouldn’t take any of his advice seriously. And he wouldn’t blame her for that. 

“I’m sorry for snapping on you...” she suddenly said, her voice back to its soft tone. “It’s just too much for me to handle...”

“It’s all good, Y/N, don’t apologize. You have the full right to be angry and to show it. I just want you to remember that...” Corpse gulped the lump in his throat, feeling his cheeks getting warmer. “Those comments are not what define you. As a matter of fact, they’re not even about you. You know why? Because people who write them don’t know you. They don’t even take a moment to acknowledge what an intelligent and talented person you are, not to mention how kind... but I do. A-and everyone else too.”

She was silent for a moment, and Corpse panicked, that maybe he said too much, or made things awkward again. But then she spoke up, her slightly less weak than before.

“I suppose... maybe you’re right, Corpse.” she said, still sounding a little bit unconvinced. He understood, it was clear his one pep talk wouldn’t suddenly make her forget about it. It would be like telling a person with depression to stop having depression and expecting them to suddenly feel better. “Thank you. For listening to my pathetic babbling... and for not telling me to just pull myself together.”

“First of all, your babbling is not pathetic...” he began “Second of all... I know we don’t really know each other, but... If you ever feel the need to talk to someone, I’m here.”

“And for that I’m grateful, Corpse” she said, clearly smiling. “Sorry, I mean, partner.”

“Partner.” he chuckled into the phone, smiling from ear to ear. 

“It’s getting late...” she yawned into the phone. “Sorry. I think I’ll go to sleep, I’m really tired...”

“Of course” Corpse replied, hiding the disappointment in his voice. He really enjoyed talking to her, just to her alone, but he understood that the whole conversation and the event preceding it probably exhausted her. 

“Hey...” she suddenly said, and Corpse could swear that her voice sounded as if she unexpectedly became shy. “Um... it was really great talking to you, you’re a really good listener, Corpse.”

“Glad to hear that” he smiled happily.

“Um... would you mind if I called you tomorrow too?” she asked so quietly that he almost didn’t catch it, his breath hitching in his throat. “If you have time that is... if you don’t, or if you have some super plans, then I understand, it’s fine-”

“I don’t have any super plans, Y/N” he couldn’t help but chuckle, finding her nervous banter adorable. “Call me whenever you want.”

“Okay...” she sighed, almost in relief, but Corpse didn’t want to point it out to embarrass her even more. “So... let’s say, around 2 pm?” 

“Sounds good to me.”

“Great.” she said, her voice trailing off a bit. “I’m falling asleep here, Corpse... Thank you once again, for everything.”

“Anytime, Y/N.”

“Good night, partner.”

“Goodnight, partner.” 

-

Part 5 coming soon. It will probably be the last part of this series, I’m not sure yet though.

TAG LIST FOR PURE IS CLOSED. 

TAG LIST FOR CORPSE REQUESTS/OTHER FICS IS OPEN (if you want to be tagged, please send me a text)

@slytherin-chan @pillowjj @afuckingunicornn @love-and-virtues @ignooynim @crapimahuman @hannahjsworld @laugh-like-the-moon @fallengoddess772 @kingric03 @dolphinpink310 @paigeyisme @bunnychano3o @dxrtygxrl28 @z-nyx @baby-iyania @trashygeek @qmalley @yn-dreamlife @queenshadow142003 @daughterofsmokeandbone23 @my-little-art-world99 @yoongi-holland @rinarecommends @psychoticunicornsblog @goldensunshinestyle @unstableye @pastelvixenbeauty @weallneednamjesus @benakenalove @corpsesimpp @xenos-sonex @jellicorn05 @must-be-a-weasley-92 @keijikunn @infinitely-kate @thisshitisfuckingdifficult @summerbbygirl @mygirlviolet @eat-your-veggies @evans-dejong @jeffxx @weepingdonuthumancookie @myinnergayistakingover @i-love-scott-mccall @thecanterburywitch @annshit @blood-of-fandoms @namjoons-crabssss @guadu-chan @harleyharleycrow @stormyskys13 @soft4kei @ukai-hoe @that-chick212 @campcampie @cookiewhoree @ukiyolixx @princess-skate @newtaholic-staygold @unknown-and-invisible @cherry-piee @marvelenthusiast3000 @apples-of-february @lovelybrit @wineandionysus @faepetersen @vincent-stargogh @idalinette @ggsmashgg @browneyespinkhair @uwucorpse @fluffylittellama-blog @yoshigguk @queentorresstuff @becihadshawn @winged-reader @x3musicismylife @musubipost @missdox @honeyames @dark-o-room @izthefangirl @l0verl0ser @laurenfangirlsout @asianfrustration13 @hopelessfluff @sacrifice-me-please @stopicouldhaavedroppedmycrossant @sleepingalaska @strangenerdsstuff @otakuartist05 @blossom-702 @astream-ofconsciousness @mythicalamphitrite @infinitelycharmed23 @ s1utforfictionalcharacters @ abrokenlink  @ lestrangeesme  @laazullii @ avesagittarius @ smiithys

[saeyoungchoismaid]

in all honesty, i don't know how this would work, but it intrigued me.

24 + diavolo, maybe? if you can find inspiration for it :)

You did it perfectly anon!! FINALLY an ask for hubby Diavolo <3 Lmao this was just supposed to be a little drabble like the rest of them but nO I just hAd to go overboard. So now I have to add all this mess:

Pairing: Lord Diavolo x gn!reader Genre: angst, fluff, fake dating au Warnings: uh his dad hates you??? Summary: With the Demon King wanting Diavolo to find someone to rule with him, it’s only natural that he lies and says he’s already found someone(you), right?  Word Count: 2k words (so much for this being a drabble lmao)

24. kisses for a cover (I’m assuming this means like a cover up like a lie)

Being the prince of The Devildom comes with many responsibilities, including but not limited to: running The Devildom since his father has no interest in The Devildom’s affairs, hosting events and gatherings to strengthen his bonds with other lords and the other rulers of the three worlds, keeping an eye on the student council (which is mostly composed of meddlesome brothers that he cares for deeply), and the list goes on. 

Oh, can’t forget the fact that he is required to marry and have someone to rule by his side. Yeah, that’s apparently an important one. He’s always realized his responsibility and has accepted all parts of his life as fact, but when you come down from the human world to participate in his program, his solid plans suddenly all come to a screeching halt. 

It becomes clear to him that he can’t go and marry someone just for the sake of The Devildom. I mean, he’s been ruling The Devildom for most of his life just fine without someone else! He decided he wasn’t going to do it. He doesn’t want to marry anyone except for you and when he does, it’ll be because you two are ready for marriage, not because it’s his duty as prince. 

His father didn’t like that though. 

Despite Diavolo being the ruler of The Devildom, he is not yet the Demon King. That title still belongs to his father, who always has the final say. And in this case, his final say is that Diavolo cannot rule the kingdom on his own any longer. 

Diavolo sees red when he hears this news. 

It isn’t until his father decides to host a party to introduce him to possible suitors that Diavolo lies and says he’s already found someone to rule by his side. When asked who, Diavolo says your name, and, of course, his father wants to meet you right away. 

The only thing is, Diavolo hasn’t told you of his true feelings, meaning you are oblivious to how he truly feels about you. His father cannot know of this though. So, with Diavolo on his knees before you, he begs you to pretend to be his lover. He promises that he’ll do whatever you ask of him, as long as you do him this favor. 

Unbeknownst to Diavolo though, you’re just as crazy about him as he is about you. So of course you agree to his plan. 

Asmo helps you with your appearance, Satan teaches you some big words to use in front of the Demon King to impress him, Lucifer teaches you the proper mannerism to use in front of him, Mammon lets you wear his most expensive jewelry, Beel shows you the correct silverware to use during the dinner and in what order to eat it in, plus what to avoid, Levi gives you history facts about The Devildom and what the Demon King has done for it before Diavolo took over, and Belphie reminds you to flatter the Demon King as much as possible to please him. Barbatos, of course, goes over everything with you again to make sure your success is definite. 

When you’re finally ready, Diavolo picks you up at six o’clock sharp to bring you back to his father’s mansion for dinner. He smiles when he sees you, though his smile shrinks a bit when he notices how stiff and nervous you are. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to you when you reach him, gently taking a hold of your hand to kiss the back of it. His smile returns to its original state when you smile at him, your cheeks gaining heat to them at the compliment. 

“Thank you. You look quite dapper yourself,” you reply softly, admiring him in his fancy suit. His smile turns into a grin, happy to hear that you like his suit. His tie is your favorite color and everything. 

“Well, let’s get going,” he says as he leads you to the car and helps you get in. He talks to you about every and anything on the way there, trying to distract you and calm you down before you arrive. It works up until the car pulls up in front of his father’s mansion, your throat suddenly going dry. “You’ll do great,” he promises. 

He helps you out just like how he had helped you in before assisting you up the grand steps. When you reach the door, he gives a single powerful knock before waiting. You two aren’t waiting long before the door is flying open and a small woman is standing there. “Good evening. Please come in,” she greets meekly, pulling the grand door open for you two to walk inside. 

You two are then led to the dining room, where your chairs are pulled out for you two to sit. Within the next minute, the Demon King is walking in. “Welcome, welcome! I’m glad you two made it here okay!” he greets, surprising you with how chipper he seems. He takes a seat at the head of the grand table, your hands starting to shake a bit in his presence despite how friendly he seems. During Levi’s history lesson, he told you about all the scary things he’s done in his time. 

As soon as he’s taken his seat, servants are flocking in with trays of drinks and appetizers. You all wait until they’re gone before beginning to eat. You stare down at your plate, trying to remember everything Beel and Lucifer taught you. Why are there three spoons and three forks? Surely you don’t need that many. You glance at Diavolo and pick up the same fork as him, taking a deep breath to help relax your nerves. 

You glance at the Demon King to find that he looks satisfied with your silverware choice. Was this a test? You don’t have time to ponder it before he’s firing into questions about you. The first one being: “So, you’re...human?” How are you supposed to answer that? Of course you are, and he obviously knows this. 

“Um, yes,” you stutter out, feeling your cheeks flush when you realize your mistake. “Yes, your highness!”  He lets out a small hum, seeming to make a mental note of your mistake. From there, things seem to only get worse. It’s like you suddenly forgot how to speak like a normal person and things you’d never say are flying out of your mouth. You’re just trying to impress him and make him approve of you but you’re doing the exact opposite. 

It isn’t until the end of dinner that he announces this. 

“You know, son, I’m not sure this one is the best idea,” he starts, frowning at you as he gives you a once over. Before he can even continue though, Diavolo is standing up and glaring down at his father with a look of pure anger. You’ve never seen him so worked up before.

“I don’t care what you think about them! You told me to find someone to rule with and that’s what I’ve done. I love them and they will be by my side as I rule over The Devildom!” he announces, making your jaw drop as you stare up at him. You close your mouth and clench your jaw though when you remember what you’re here for. He doesn’t actually love you. He’s saying all of this to convince his father that he’s found someone who will rule with him. 

You apparently tuned out of the conversation at the wrong time because the next thing you know, you’re being tugged up by Diavolo and his lips are finding yours. Your eyes go wide in shock despite your brain trying to yell at your body not to show any signs of surprise. It’s easier said than done though. 

All too soon for your liking, Diavolo is pulling away from your lips. Something flashes in his eyes—hope or love maybe? Eh, who are you kidding—before he’s turning to look at his father again. “You see? I don’t want anyone else; I want them! They’re mine and I’m theirs!” he shouts at his father. Before he can reply to his son, Diavolo is dragging you out of the room and to the front of the house where the car is awaiting you both. 

Diavolo is silent for a long time while you two drive back home, a heavy frown on his face and his knuckles white with how tight he’s clenching his fists. “I’m sorry for all of that,” he apologizes softly, bringing your eyes away from his hands to his face. He’s not looking at you though, simply staring out his window at the scenery passing him by. 

“It’s okay. I understand. Barbatos informed me of your relationship with your father,” you say softly. They get along and all, but they more often than not end up in some sort of disagreement. It’s normally about how things are being done in The Devildom though. 

He sighs and reaches over to take your hand in his, staring down at the small hand in his big one. “I hope you’ll still consider my proposal,” he says softly, making your brows furrow. 

“What proposal?” you ask. His eyes finally meet yours and your heart skips a beat at how expressive his eyes are. 

“To rule The Devildom with me, of course,” he replies like it’s obvious. Your brows shoot up to your hairline at this news though. 

“What? I thought that was just something you were telling your father, so he wouldn’t force you to marry some rando,” you rush out, trying to wrap your mind around his words. There’s no way he actually wants you to rule The Devildom with him. You wouldn’t know the first thing about ruling over thousands of other people—er, demons.  

His brows knit together at your response, his other hand moving to grab your free one. “(Y/n), I’m sorry. I...I should’ve said something sooner,” he whispers, staring down at your hands now. This only confuses you more though. 

“Tell me what sooner?” 

He’s silent for a long moment, trying to gather the right words he wants to say. “I love you. What I said back there, it’s true. I want you to be by my side and help me to run The Devildom. You have so many good ideas and suggestions, I just know you’ll make a wonderful leader.” 

Now you’re just gaping at him like a fish. 

“What? No. No, I...I can’t,” you mumble, pulling your hands out of his. He just pulls them right back to him though. 

“You can’t? Can’t what? Be with me?” he asks softly, his voice sounding close to breaking, just like his heart. 

“No! No, I...I want to be with you. I love you too. I just...I don’t know the first thing when it comes to ruling over demons, most of which want to eat me,” you reply, trying to sound playful and joking but failing, your words being too true and hitting too close to home.

That didn’t stop Diavolo from smashing his lips to yours for a passionate kiss though. “That doesn’t matter. None of it does as long as I get to be with you. I’ll even step down from being King for you,” he mumbles against your lips after you two pull back for air. 

“No, don’t do that. These people need you just as much as I do. I’ll learn how to rule with time. Just stay by my side, okay?” you whisper back, pulling away from his face enough to look up into his eyes. 

He smiles brighter than The Devildom’s moon as he nods his head rapidly. “I swear I will. I’ll help you every step of the way.” He seals his promise with another kiss...and then another...and then just one more to be sure.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

MASTERLISTS

More with Lord Diavolo

Join my discord: https://discord.gg/qnDxJ6rr67 

Tag List: @katelynwithpaint, @buzzybeebee, @stressylexy, @jungialo, @fanfictwarrior, @ohbbobeyme, @zeldan7, & @otome-otakuwu ✦ if you would like to be added or removed, comment or send an ask. Also, remember to tell me if you ever change your username so I can continue to tag you :)

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[unhingedhuman]

Freaks

Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader

Kinda fake dating, Jason is an asshole, Eddie is a sweetheart who deserved better. Pre season 4.

Cheer had never really been your scene, it was all an act to seem normal and avoid the jeers and bullying of the student body.

Of course moving to Hawkins from Malibu and already having an understanding of how cruel kids and teens could be helped because it gave you a chance to reinvent yourself.

You hadn't planned on how exhausting it was pretending to be someone else all the time. Constantly having to keep up with the current trends, music and makeup. Was it really worth all this trouble, normal had started to seem overrated. What even was normal supposed to be anyway?

That was how you had ended up walking alone through the woods behind the school. Trying to get away from all the things you were trying to be. It was easier when you were alone. There was noone to have to pretend for you could relax and be yourself. You had your walkman on, a mix of your favourite metal songs playing.

You weren't paying much attention to everything around you. Just tapping your fingers against your leg to Hallowed be thy name by Iron Maiden. The trees had started to get thicker and the sky darkened as a cloud covered the sun.

You shivered, the air suddenly cold. You pulled the headphones down around your neck and looked around.

You had never been this far out into the woods before. The trees seemed thicker here. There was a picnic bench ahead of you. You moved closer to it wanting to just sit down and enjoy isolation.

The sound of a stick cracking behind you made you jump. You spun around to see the man they called Eddie 'the Freak' Munson. You hated that they called him a freak, truthfully he was the kind of person you would have hung out with back in Malibu.

Eddie was older than the other kids, thus was his second attempt at senior year. He had a reputation around the school as the Freak, an idiot, everyone thought he was scary but if your experiences had taught you anything you knew those were nothing but rumours.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you" he said softly, a kind smile on his lips.

"It's fine I didn't realise how deep in the woods I was. I just wanted to be alone. Away from all the shallow people in that school." You admitted

Eddie laughed. "Well princess with the people you hang around I can see how you feel that way"

"You have no idea. Can you keep a secret?"

You had never spoken to Eddie before but you knew he wouldn't betray your trust, he seemed kind a genuine just from the short interaction you had just had.

He looked at you confused. "Why me"

"You're here and you seem kind enough… besides I think you will understand."

You and Eddie made your way to the picnic bench and sat across from each other. He placed his metal lunch box on the table, slipped his leather jacket off and crossed his arms on the table I front of him. You looked at his forearms, smiling as you noticed one of his tattoos. It was a flock of bats flying.

"I thought it would be easier… being popular… all of this" you waved your hands in front of your body "it's an act… all of it"

Eddie's brows knitted together over his deep brown eyes. "What do you mean"

"Back in Malibu before my dad died I spent weekends working on his camaro, I listen to iron maiden, megadeath and black Sabbath. Being a cheerleader girly girl it's not my style" you rambled. "I go home and I'm exhausted. Pretending to be someone I'm not, is way harder than I thought"

"Is this some kind of joke" Eddie sounded hurt.

Eddie glanced around the trees waiting for Jason and the others to jump out and harass him.

"No, absolutely not. I just needed to rant to someone who seemed genuine. And to my luck you were out here"

You pulled the tape from your walk man and handed it to Eddie showing him the label "Y/Ns metal mega mix"

"You can have it if you want." You handed him you walkman "my mum will just buy me a new one and I have a copy of the tape"

"Thanks" Eddie smiled.

Eddie put the headphones over his fluffy hair and put the tape into the player. The woods were quiet as Eddie listened to the music. A smile played on his lips.

"God hanging out with those assholes must be hell for you" he laughed pulling the head phones off.

He was right, most of the time you tried to keep to yourself. Jason was the worst he constantly got on your nerves about how Satanism was on the rise in America and Metal music was the cause.

"I hated getting called a freak and a satanist all the time in Malibu and I thought moving here would be easier being normal… but I miss being a freak, don't get me wrong I don't miss the bullying but I miss being myself ya know"

"So Malibu Barbie is actually a metal head" he taunted.

"Is the pope catholic?" you laughed "And now I am stuck hanging around Jason and all the other assholes having to listen to all this shallow bullshit not to mention hearing them talk about the things i like with disgust… I hate it and I wish I could go back in time to kick myself… so I could avoid all this trouble and just be myself"

"So stop pretending"

"I can't I'm trapped, I just need to get through this last year and then I'm outta this godforsaken town." You sighed "unless you have any ideas other than me just waltzing in there metallica blaring and announcing that I hate cheer and that I think Jason should die in a hole"

Eddie laughed "Well I have one"

"Mmmm… im all ears"

Eddie's idea was brilliant.

It was Monday morning when the black van pulled up to your home. The stark contrast of the beat up van parked out front of your upper-class house would be enough to turn the heads of your neighbors. Combined with the sound of the new Metallica album blaring through the speakers it must have been making their blood boil.

Eddie honked his horn like the sound of the music hadn't alerted you to his arrival. You rushed out the front door of your house walkman in hand. The short skirt of your cheer uniform flapping as you ran to the van.

Mrs Robinson across the road shook her head as she pruned her roses.

Eddie turned the music down as you got in. He looked at you, your hair down for the first time, soft curls framed your face. He was so used to seeing you with your hair in a ponytail, perfect makeup, sitting next to Jason and his gang he had never imagined you like this. You wore no makeup today, the ghost of left over eye-liner marked your lower lids. With out the thick foundation and blush you usually wore Eddie could see the freckles splattered across your nose.

"Hello princess" He smirked

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone. Your heart beating quickly with excitement as you put your belt on.

The front seat of Eddie's van was remarkably clean although it smelt like menthol cigarettes, weed and leather. You turned around and looked at the rear, a ratty mattress in the back with blankets, a bong and a case of beer.

"You can still change your mind sweetheart" Eddie said

"No we're doing this one, I need out and two, it will give that prick Jason and the others an aneurysm"

Eddie laughed at the thought of seeing Jason's face as you revealed who you really were.

Eddie was a good driver, he didn't go above the speed limit or drive aggressively like you were used to guys doing. You assumed they did it to impress you, but they didn't know that you would never be interested in their shallow personalities.

The first step of Eddie's plan was easy.

His van skidded to a stop music blaring next to the gym where the other cheer girls were looking for you. You were never late but today was different and it was all part of the plan.

You jumped out of the van and flipped your head forward pulling your hair into a high pony. As you came back up Eddie was standing in front of you.

He pushed you gently against the van and kissed you. He was surprisingly gentle. You put your arms around his neck making sure that everyone could see. You could hear the whispers of the other girls louder now as they gossiped about what they were witnessing.

You giggled as Eddie's soft hair tickled your face. In addition to the smell in his van Eddie also smelt like green apple shampoo, cheap aftershave and denim.

Eddie pulled back looking at you. The adorable smile on your face even with no makeup and left over eye-liner smudged. You were beautiful. He brushed his hand on your cheek wiping away a speck of dirt.

Eddie's eyes smouldered as he looked at you. He knew this was all in act, you making out with him in front of the cheer squad was his idea after all but something in him wanted it to be real. He wondered if after graduation you two could get out of Hawkins together and see as much of the country as possible.

You slipped past Eddie and walked towards the girls, reaching your arms up and adjusting your ponytail. As you did so your vest slipped up revealing your back to Eddie and he caught a glimpse of the soft skin and he wanted to pull the vest the rest of the way off.

"See you later Princess" He called.

You laughed as you walked past the wide eyes of the other cheer girls. You walked into the locker room and they all surrounded you, questions firing.

"The Freak really Y/N" Kelly scoffed.

"Seriously" you hissed "if this is how you act then I quit"

"You can't quit" Chrissy pleaded pulling you away from the others.

"No Chrissy, I can. I have to" You spoke softly "I'm sorry this just isn't me. I'm not this person I need to be myself. I like metal and all the stuff most of the girls here hate. Let someone who actually enjoys this stuff be in the squad"

"Okay" chrissy sounded defeated.

"Thank you," you whispered "chrissy you're the only person on the squad who is kind and genuine, I'm glad you are captain. And even though I won't be here, you can still talk to me. You're one of the few people here that I like. Even if you are dating Jason… you deserve better"

Chrissy smiled at you. "We are still friends okay, no matter who you like or what you do. You are kind and you don't judge me like the others… or my mom"

"Thanks Chrissy" you hugged her "don't listen to the others they're just assholes"

Phase two was harder. You had known Jason had a crush on you for a while and even though he was with Chrissy he would try to make moves on you. You would always politely decline. Today would be different however.

You walked into the lunch room and Jason made a beeline to you. He always managed to make sure it was hard for you to get away from him. Today he had you next to a wall.

"So Y/N I didn't see you at practice or the assembly this morning but my parents are out of town again I was thinking maybe we could…"

"Or a game where you toss balls into LAUNDRY BASKETS" Eddie's voice filled the Cafeteria.

He was standing on a lunch table taunting the basketball players.

"Hold that thought" Jason scowled

You rolled your eyes, everything was going to plan. Jason was easy to bait into retaliating.

"You want something FREAK" Jason shouted at Eddie.

Eddie made devil horns with his fingers and stuck his tongue out, making weird noises before smiling a gorgeous smile that melted your heart. This was supposed to be fake. Another act to get you out of the stupid faking you were doing until you graduated and moved away. There was no way he would like you in that way, you were a true poser just of a different kind. You pushed the feelings away and smirked as Eddie jumped off the table.

"Freak" Jason mumbled under his breath

"Anyway" Jason turned back to you.

"Shove it Jason" you hissed, walking straight to Eddie.

This hadn't been in the plan you were just supposed to sit at the table with Eddie and the others but you were like a woman possessed. Screw it you thought. The truth was you liked Eddie alot, he was kind and genuine. If he didn't like you that way you could play it off as all part of the act to get back at Jason.

Eddie was smiling as you walked over to the table. The smile quickly turned to confusion as you continued to storm towards him.

The entire Cafeteria erupted in gasps as you pulled Eddie down to you smashing your lips against his. Wrapping your hands around his neck. Eddie quickly melted into the kiss and placed his hands at your waist pulling you into him. You pressed against his quickly hardening dick. And moved your hands up into his long fluffy hair.

Eddie could tell this kiss wasn't a fake kiss for show like the one earlier; this was the real deal. Eddie pulled back and looked into your eyes, his pupils blown in shock from the kiss.

"Are you oblivious to how hot you are or are you actually trying to turn me on" he breathed

"What do you think?" you chuckled playfully.

Eddie was shocked, he must have done something right in his life for God to send you to him. His perfect girl.

You could feel the eyes of everyone on you and Eddie. The room filled with loud whispers. You turned around to look at Jason wanting the satisfaction of seeing the look on his face.

Jason definitely looked like he was having an aneurysm, his eye was twitching and his face was red. You half expected him to storm over. There was one more thing you needed to do.

"Get fucked Jason…" you shouted "Oh and Chrissy like I said you deserve so much better than that prick"

The Cafeteria laughed as Jason stormed out slamming the doors behind him. You knew the next few months would be hard but with Eddie there with you it wouldn't be as bad.

[ebearcrochet]

Random Rants: Yarn Stores

I recently asked all of you to send me your favourite yarn stores, and all of these have been collected in The Traveller's Map of Yarn Stores. I'll link it in a reblog, and if your favourite store is not on the map, please let me know. And if you know a good place to buy yarn in one of the "empty" spaces on the map, please let me know. I would like the map to span more than just the East Coast and parts of Europe, but I'm sadly not familiar with every yarn store in the world which is why I need your help.

And now I went far of track, but let's just ignore that. What I wanted to do in this post, was rant about indie yarn stores for how ever long this post ends up being.

And why do I want to rant about indie yarn stores? Well, both because I work at one, and because they harbour an expertise that is hard to replicate in online shops and large retailers.

YARN

It can come as no surprise that you are able to buy yarn at a yarn store, but it is the type of yarn that is interesting. I cannot speak for every yarn store out there, but the ones I personally know usually specialises in a specific genre of yarn. It could be a specific brand, it could be hand dyed, it could be a specific material etc.

This means that you probably won't find cheap acrylics anywhere in sight when you enter a indie yarn store (it is simply impossible to compete with the prices of larger retailers), but you will be able to find the softest, shiniest, most colourful skeins around.

And as a bonus, a lot of yarn stores offer sustainable yarns such as yarn made from discarded or recycled materials, GOTs certified materials, locally produced materials and so on.

And one thing that we can do that online retailers can't is to let you see the yarn with your fingers!!

ADVICE

I feel like this is a pretty broad point, but half of my job is actually to help people. What can I (or your local, nice yarn store owner/worker) do for you, you might ask, and I got so many answers for you.

First and foremost, we can help you find the correct yarn. Most patterns come with a recommended brand of yarn, and if we got that and you like it, we can move on to the colour choices.

If you don't like the yarn suggested in the pattern for whatever reason or we don't have that specific brand, we can still be of service. We know the yarn in our stores, and can help you find reliable alternatives that will work as well with your pattern as the original yarn would.

When you have chosen an alternative type of yarn, the yardage might not match the original yardage 1:1 – but we know how to calculate how much yarn you'll need in your chosen yarn (and even if you don't have a pattern and want to do a freestyle sweater/blanket/scarf/whatever a lot of us are pretty good at estimating how much yarn, you'll need).

And what if you already have the yarn, have started on a project, and then you can't figure out what the fuck the designer means by that one line in the pattern? We are here to help you decipher (please don't make me spell that twice) your pattern. We have read a thousand patterns, and most of us are driven by an unstoppable need to know more so we kinda end up hoarding obscure tecniques. All this helps when the designer wants you to figure out what they mean by that one obscure line. Or if you are a brand knew knitter/crocheter and still haven't found the Rosetta stone of knitting/crochet patterns yet (trust me, it gets easier although it can feel a little like learning a new language), we can help you out and point you in the right direction.

And let's say you know which yarn to use, you understand the pattern, everything is right on time, and then you have to choose the colours? We are here to help you answer questions such as which colours look best together? how does this self striping sock yarn look like when knitted? is this or this best to use as a horse mane? *an older man holds up two balls of slightly different coloured brown yarn, and for a moment I pretend that my expertise is horse manes and not yarn*

PATTERNS

If you've been knitting or crocheting for more than five minutes, you've probably figured out that you can find a billion patterns on the world wide web, some for free, some are rather cheap, and some are insanely expensive.

But to be frank, selling yarn alone doesn't necessarily pay the bills and therefore yarn store owners often have an alternative career at the site. This might be having their own brand of yarn, selling merchandise, turning up at fares, or pattern design.

Are yarn store owners better at pattern making than everyone else? you might ask.

No, it's not always the case, but these people often have a life time of experience forming needle made fabrics to fit the body, they have a network of test knitters/crocheters that help them catch mistakes, and they know how fibres work.

Does this mean these people are better at the design process than everybody else?

No, their patterns aren't always the most trendy patterns nor the patterns that fit your personal aesthetic and that's okay too.

WORKSHOPS AND COMMUNITY

If you're a new knitter/crocheter and you don't have an older relative to help you figure out your new hobby, try turn to a yarn store. On a regular day, there is always one of two people who come in to ask if we can help them get on with their project.

And most stores have some kind of workshops or cafés where you can learn new tecniques, practise old tecniques, chat with people who share your hobby etc.

As an example, the place I work have knitting café once a week where you bring you current WIP and we provide coffee and company. We also have a weekly knitting school where we introduce people to different tecniques such as different heels, cast ons, increases etc.

And if you are more of a SoMe person, most yarn stores have both Instagram, Facebook, hashtags, KALs/CALs, and blogs where you can find inspiration.

SUPERHUMANS

Okay, so as I wrote this I realised, I made yarns store owners/workers sound like the perfect human beings, and truth is we aren't that. We are just human beings, and all though some yarn store are extremely talented this doesn't apply to everyone. As in any other line of work some people are jackasses, bad at their job, or downright hostile go interact with. If you happen to meet one of those – leave. You don't have to interact with them, you don't have to love their store or buy their yarn. Find a new yarn store (I promise, you'll find a good one out there).

Sources: This is written on basis of my own experience so I don't have any good places, you can go to read more. My best advice: visit your local yarn store.

[spenciebabie]

Thank you! Okay so I thought maybe you and Spencer could be playing a drinking game and he has to take a body shot (i so hope you know what i mean). So he does it and then begins to kiss your stomach and it ends with eating you out?🙊 I hope this is understandable, english is not my first language 😂😅

Oop, this one got long! 

-

He was always so nervous around you, so you thought drinking might loosen him up. Even then it still took a while. But you were determined.

Sharing a hotel room was something you dreaded and looked forward to in equal measure. 

Spending all of that time around Spencer was sort of enthralling, getting to see how he behaved when he was on his own, in his pajamas, sleepy first thing when he woke up. It was all a little more than your heart could take really. Having harbored a crush on him since pretty much your first day, all of that time never really helped. What did sort of help, was the way he never really took to you. He always seemed to avoid spending time alone with you if he could help it, even when you shared a room. He’d come back late, or get up early, usually pinning it on how distracting the case was.

But now that the case was over, you had one more night before the jet took off first thing in the morning. So he couldn’t really avoid you.

Hatching a plan you headed to a nearby store on the way back the hotel, grabbing tequila, salt, and lime. Waltzing into your shared room with confidence and determination to see Spencer sitting on his bed reading.

“Hey pretty boy” you greet him and he just responds with a tight lipped smile.

“Why don’t you put down that book for a few minutes and talk to me?” you ask, sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyebrows knit together in confusion for a minute before his expression softens.

“Are you sure?” he asks, placing his book on the nightstand, avoiding your gaze.

“Yeah I’m sure, you need to relax. I even got us something to help unwind” you giggle, dumping the contents of the bag onto the bedspread, and his eyes almost bulge out of his head.

“Is that- Are we allowed to drink?” he picks up the bottle to read the label as you take out a small pen knife to cut up the lime into segments.

“We’re adults Spence, what Hotch doesn’t know wont hurt him. And besides, I feel like we never get to hang out like this, just the two of us?” you test the waters and he seems to bite his lip, holding something back.

You hand him a wedge of the lime, and he holds it awkwardly in his hand awaiting further instructions, so you grab the salt and lean in licking a small stripe along the back of his hand like it’s no big deal. Pretending you don’t see the way it makes him tense. You sprinkle some of the salt along the stripe and pass him the opened bottle.

“You lick the salt, take the shot, and then the lime? Okay?” you ask and he doesn’t speak he just nods. Licking along the part of his hand you’d licked, downing a swig from the bottle and wincing just a little before sucking on the wedge of lime.

“Jesus” he gasps, “that tastes like gasoline” he shakes his head, ruffling the messy curls on top of it and you can’t help but watch.

“Yeah, that’s sort of the idea. My turn” you take the bottle from his hand and grab a wedge of lime when an idea hits you, stretching out one of your hands to Spencer you just say “Lick?” and he looks startled before he leans in and swipes his tongue across your hand, pouring some salt over it.

Then you proceed to take your own shot, stifling the little wince that overcomes you too.

It doesn’t take long before the alcohol hits both of you, nothing too harsh, just enough to have you softening a little.

“Why don’t we?” you ask unprompted, and he just looks at you confused.

“Sorry! Why don’t we hang out, just us two?” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth while you wait for a response, but he shakes his head.

“I’m gonna need a lot more of that before I can answer that question” he says in a sort of nervous chuckle as he points to the bottle of tequila. And for the first time you might actually know what’s going on inside Spencer Reid’s head. So you use it to your advantage.

“Have you ever done a body shot Spence?” you ask with a grin, and he looks puzzled.

“I don’t even know what that is” 

You think on it for a minute before lying down on the bed, fingers steadily working on the buttons of your blouse.

“Wh- what are you doing?” he rushes out, covering his eyes and you giggle at him.

“I figured it would be easier to show you, experience is the best teacher don’t you think? If you’re okay with that of course?” you reach a hand out to land on his knee softly and his hands finally lower so that he can see you. 

You’re splayed out on the bed with your blouse hanging open on either side of your torso, exposing your bra and the expanse of your stomach. His breath hitches at the sight and your suspicions are confirmed.

“It’s basically the same as what we just did, but instead you take the shot off of, well, me?” 

“Are you sure?” he breathes, his chest rising and falling rapidly

“Mhmm, I want you to” you reassure him and he nods,

“Okay, what do I do?” he looks over your exposed skin like its the most spectacular thing he’s ever seen.

“You can pour the tequila into my bellybutton, and then lick along my stomach for the salt, and then I’ll hold the lime for you? Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I can manage that” he says, following your instructions to the letter.

Then he’s leaning down over you, licking the salt off of your skin before taking the shot from your bellybutton. You delight in the feeling of his tongue and his lips against your bare skin and you have a thought. Taking the lime and placing it between your teeth as you wait for him to look for it.

He lingers along your stomach for just a second too long before he’s coming up for air, trailing up along your body to look for the lime and finding it balancing in your own mouth. He doesn’t even think twice, digging his teeth into the flesh and pulling it out of your mouth only to spit it out. And then he’s diving back in, crashing his lips to yours. You can taste everything on his tongue as it slides against your own and he moans into your mouth.

When you finally pull apart his eyes are half-lidded and his lips are pink and swollen.

“We don’t hang out because I’ve been afraid I was gonna do that since your first day” he breathes, his chest heaving as his eyes search your own.

“Well I’ve wanted you to do that since my first day” you smile up at him and he returns it right away. 

“Well I’ve wanted to do a lot more than just that if we’re telling the truth here” he smirks, and there’s a newfound confidence to him now.

“What ‘more’ are we talking about here?” you ask, suddenly nervous and excited at the prospect that the night might not end here.

He silently trails down your body, littering kisses all along your exposed torso, making his way down to your skirt only to push it up your thighs. Further and further until he could see your panties. And then his head was diving in between your legs, licking swiftly up the soaked cotton of your underwear as you gasp.

He comes up for just a second to look at you.

“I think it might be easier to show you, experience is the best teacher, don’t you think?”

[icequeenbae]

Stay with Me (m) | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Long-distance relationship, established relationship, grumpy Baek, smut

Warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, upset sex (is there such a thing), oral (f receiving), consent is not explicitly stated but implied

Word Count: ~2.6k

Summary: Baekhyun was upset because you had to leave again. His frustration made things escalate to an unexpected extent. He might’ve just wanted to make you late for the plane though.

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Let’s celebrate my first ‘writing comeback’ anniversary together ❤❤❤  [February 17, 2020 – forever]

Author’s Note: Soooo… This was actually the first fic I wrote after many years of my writer’s coma. Wasn’t going to post it, but it’s important to save the date. A year ago during a business trip I was listening to Baekhyun’s ‘Stay Up’ in the backseat of a cab, and it suddenly got to me in a very new and profound way. As soon as I got to the hotel, the doc was created. Countless sleepless nights later, I can admit that I haven’t really stopped writing ever since.

Baekhyun isn’t just my bias or my favourite character to write, he’s so much more special to me than that. I’m not sure how long this journey is going to last or where it leads me, but so far he’s gifted me with one full year of this magic. He’ll always have a precious spot in my heart 🤍

Okay, done with the sappy times now (no). As usual – big thanks to @baekshoney​​​ for having a look, and I hope you guys enjoy this little oneshot!

This was one of those days. One of the days you hated, and Baekhyun didn’t do much to make it better for you. On the contrary, he was sulking since early morning. First, because you’d left him alone in bed and he woke up being cold. Then he just kept getting annoyed with everything. Why were you having coffee for breakfast again, when you should sleep on the plane? Why weren’t you packing snacks, when the airport food always made your stomach upset? You should’ve definitely worn one of his hoodies, since none of yours were warm and comfy enough, did he have to remind you?

Yes, this was the day you had to fly back home, leaving him behind once again. Which was exactly what brought his tsundere ways to the surface. He was just… upset.

‘Baby, it’s not the first time I’m going home, I’ll be fine,’ you grinned at his grumpy expression and poured him a cup of coffee as soon as he sat his butt down on the kitchen stool.

Baekhyun wasn’t exactly subtle in how he felt about you going away. The two of you had been doing this ‘long-distance thing’ since the very beginning of your relationship. You’d met during your first ever trip to Korea around two years ago and instantly clicked – just like that – not spending a single day without at least a quick message exchange with one another.

It was tough at times. There was no way for you to see each other more frequently, and you were often apart for months. Granted, you were keeping in touch religiously – texting every single day, having video calls every other night (whenever you could manage the schedules and time zones), posting ambiguous pictures on social media only for each other to understand. Still, you missed each other so terribly…

‘I don’t understand why you have to go anyway, you can just stay here with me,’ Baekhyun grumbled, eyeing the kitchen floor with a frown. You pursed your lips to contain the coo about to fly out of your mouth at how cute he was, pouting and complaining. Like an angry little bird. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out your hand and ruffled his already messy bedroom hair.

The way his nose scrunched up meant he wasn't in the mood to be playful. You sighed and leaned on the corner of the kitchen table.

‘You know I have work to get back to, Bae, I can’t be on vacation all year long.’

He was being rather childish about your departure, especially when you were already fully dressed and ready to go. The only thing stalling you was that Chanyeol, who insisted on being your ride to the airport today, hadn’t come to pick you up just yet, giving you some time to smooth over your boyfriend’s feathers.

Truth be told, you were only holding up the appearances for him. It was very possible that you were even more upset about having to go than he was. In fact, every time your week or two together were nearing an end, you felt nauseous at the thought that you wouldn’t be able to see his face, or hold his hand, or feel his warm breath on your skin, or kiss the tiny mole on his cheek.

In all honesty, you were... a mess. You only displayed yourself as calm and collected during your goodbyes because you knew his moodiness was merely a tactic to conceal his pain. So, you tucked your own feelings away to make it a bit more manageable for him. In reality, you broke down as soon as you arrived home and walked into your lifeless apartment. Each time, you had to find excuses and avoid talking to him via video messengers during those initial weeks, pretending to suddenly be swamped at work. You realized that seeing your eyes all red and puffy from crying every night would most definitely break his heart and worsen his longing. That you knew, because seeing him unhappy was excruciating. You wanted more than anything to deliver him from any further suffering.

It took all of your self-restraint not to reach out for his warm embrace or let the tears flow freely. He’d probably not let you go then, always telling you to just stay with him anyways. But you were both adults and had commitments, although hundreds and thousands of miles apart.

As your eyes were beginning to prick from observing his state and getting overwhelmed with your own feelings, you decided it was safer to move out ten minutes early, despite the call from Yeol not coming through yet. Anything to not let Baekhyun see you cry or cling to him desperately the way you wished to in that moment.

‘Well, you can pout all you want, I’m going to get my stuff,’ you said in an airy tone trying to elevate his mood slightly.

‘No.’

He stopped you in your tracks, grabbing your wrist. You gazed at him, confused as to what he meant. He was still looking down, eyebrows knitted together and chest heaving with almost anxious breaths.

‘Bae?’

‘No,’ he repeated, softer this time, but still not making eye contact with you. Instead, he tugged at your wrist and pulled you closer to him. You felt his grasp weaken until your wrist was free, however, your waist was not. His arms snaked around it, and he pulled you into himself, basically nuzzling his face into your chest.

‘Baekhyun?’ You squeaked, doing your best to fight off the goosebumps that littered your skin immediately after the contact. Your body never once asked for permission to react to him, and this time was no exception. His right hand traveled down your spine to the curve of your ass as his nose nudged one of your breasts. You shivered, grabbing at his shoulders, and he suddenly growled, knowing, sensing that your nipples had already perked up underneath the fabric of your bra.

Although he was trying to put you into one of his many oversized hoodies all the time, it was summer, so you were wearing a sundress (like any sane person would). Lucky for Baekhyun, this type of clothing made it even easier for him.

He rose from his seat and hoisted you up so abruptly that you only managed to yelp and grab at his neck for balance. You were then placed on the empty side of the dining table away from the leftover breakfast. Looking down at where your boyfriend’s hands were, you watched him frantically pull your dress up, before coming to your senses and trying to stop him.

‘Bae… What are you doing? Yeol is gonna be here any minute, we can’t just f…ugh!’ You cried out in surprise as he yanked your hips forcefully up to his face, completely ignoring your words. There’s no way he was going to...

‘Baekhyunie, please stop, you know I’m going to be late, what is…’ He didn’t even let you finish your rant, leaving a trail of insistent wet kisses upon the sensitive skin along the panty line while leading up to your protruding hip bone. Breath caught up in your throat, you couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out even if you wanted to. Did you really want to? With his head right there between your thighs, his dark burning eyes looking at you – completely immobilized by him – in the most intense and intimate way possible. His lips were glistening after he ran his tongue over them habitually, and when he leaned in and licked at your still clothed center, you belatedly realized that you weren’t even breathing. The realization only came with the wheezing gasp you’d let out, when your legs wrapped around his head as if on cue. Like fuel to the fire, your responsiveness only spurred him on. You didn’t even have time to realize that your boyfriend had already moved your panties out of the way when his impatient lips were on you again.

‘B- Baekhyun…’ You muttered, reaching your hand down to give pushing his head away a feeble try. ‘We can’t do this now, please stop... the airport…’

His ears seemed deaf to your reluctant pleas as he only employed more of his tongue to make you lose the last bits of your sober mind completely, melting and thrashing underneath his touch. He eased one of your thighs off of his shoulder, pushing it up and spreading you out before diving back in, paying no attention to your increasingly disheveled state.

At this point you could only sob, speech incoherent, all attempts to push him away or close your legs futile. And that alone made him grow feverish with the need to be inside you, to feel you once again before he had to let you go.

He was really good with his mouth, as usual, so by the time one of his hands left your thigh to tease you a little further with his long deft fingers you were so ready to take more that you barely registered the burn of two digits sliding inside. You were still a little sore from the night before, which you’d spent making love for hours on end, knowing that you won’t be touching each other anytime soon. But that was meaningless now.

His tongue expertly swirled around your clit, while his wrist found a familiar angle that always made you get vocal. Your back arched instantly as you cried out his name, barely grasping that you were still tugging at his soft locks and possibly causing discomfort. It was clear that your release was mere seconds away with your legs shaking and inner muscles clenching, and that was exactly where Baekhyun wanted you. Aching for his touch, needing him as much as he needed you. Just the two of you, caught up in the act of lustful desperation.

He’d worked his tongue diligently, almost pushing you over the edge by sucking on your most sensitive spot for just a second, and... then you suddenly felt him pull away.

‘No, no- what?’ You could barely form sentences, let alone complain, but your frenzied tone made his already rock-hard flesh twitch. His pants were down in seconds, and there wasn’t even a thought of pausing to get a condom on or cool off a little bit. You were both on the verge of getting overwhelmed by this passionate longing when... your phone suddenly lit up, indicating an incoming call. Before you could snap out of the moment you were having, Baekhyun had you flat on your back, all slick and ready for him to push inside. And that he did — in one quick and rough movement, filling you up and giving you no time to even make a sound before his hips tested you out with a couple of low amplitude thrusts. The table moved slightly, soft clanking of tableware falling on deaf ears. Meanwhile, Baekhyun grabbed onto your hips, lifting your ass in the air for more control over the penetration.

‘Baek, I swear… You have like 2 minutes before Chan-’ A vicious thrust reached further than before, definitely getting your friend’s name out of your mind for good. And anything else for that matter.

Baekhyun snapped his hips as if he wanted to get as deep as humanly possible, as if he wanted to literally ruin you, and you could only scratch at his forearm while losing yourself in the feeling of his hips colliding with yours and the delectable sounds the action produced.

‘Baby,’ Baekhyun suddenly breathed out hoarsely, eyebrows knitted together as if in pain, ‘I can’t hold it off-’

Hearing his voice so strenuous and somehow vulnerable, you threw your head back and closed your eyes, spreading your legs further apart to allow him to better angle his powerful thrusts.

Your limbs were starting to grow numb and the veins on your neck popped when you moaned, and that’s when Baekhyun let out a strained ‘ah’, holding you in place by the hips to give you his erratic final thrusts.

In that moment you felt like something snapped inside you. Your core was tight around your lover’s cock, your body shaking in pre-orgasmic bliss, and you’d never experienced it this way. You felt so full and content in this moment when he was still moving his hips and groaning stiffly above you, riding out his high. There was nothing else he needed to do to take you along. The sensation of his warmth inside you made you pulsate, wailing so loudly that Baekhyun had to cover your mouth with his palm. He kept going for a bit to prolong your orgasm and let you slowly come back to your senses.

Your eyes stared vacantly at the kitchen ceiling and your throat was dry, although Baekhyun’s hand was still clasped over your mouth. When both of you managed to catch your breath, you just gazed at each other for a few long moments. You were so spent that you couldn’t even read the semi-blank expression on his face. He slowly slipped his palm off of your face, still hovering over your body.

‘Baekhyunie…’ You murmured, touching his cheek gently. He was usually lowkey annoyed whenever you went on to kiss the little mole on his face instead of his lips. This time, however, he only lowered his head further to let you do your thing. You pressed your lips to the tiny dot on his skin, leaning back onto the table to find his eyes with your own.

‘I love you,’ he suddenly whispered in a broken voice, then cleared his throat and started over. ‘I really want you to stay with me.’

It was… bittersweet.

You winced, feeling him pull out, and accepted his help sitting up. Holding your boyfriend close by the shirt, you nudged his nose with yours and looked up to his sad dejected eyes.

‘I know, Bae,’ your voice sounded as uplifting as you could manage. ‘I will find a way to come see you on tour in the next couple of months, I promise.’

Baekhyun was about to say something else if not for the sudden ring of his phone that made both of you snap out of your tiny little world.

‘Dang, I bet it’s Yeol. Pick up!’ You pushed your boyfriend towards the phone and eased down from the table, grabbing the tissues to clean up quickly.

‘Yes,’ Baekhyun responded.

‘Are you two fucking?!’ Your nose scrunched up at Chanyeol’s vulgar shout.

‘Yes?’ At this you paused and smacked Baekhyun’s pec for the shameless (yet truthful) response. ‘Whoa- feisty. Chanyeol-ah, better hang up before you hear her- Ow!’ He raised an arm to defend himself from your playful hits.

‘You realize that if you do not come down in ten you’re most likely missing the flight?’ You heard Chanyeol reply after a frustrated sigh.

‘Not a problem for m-’ Baekhyun was interrupted by your yell.

‘We’re gonna be down in ten, please check the fastest routes to the airport, Yeolie!’

You ran out of the kitchen barely catching Baekhyun’s grumbling as he repeated after you.

‘Yeolie. Why the hell does she even call you that. It’s not like you- What? Shut up, you bastard!’

You smiled to yourself. At least his friends knew how and when to mess with him. If you weren’t there… They got him. He'd be okay. And with that you were happy for now.

A/N:This piece was my reintroduction to writing, and I’d love to hear any type of comments you have^^  Thank you guys for all the interaction and amazing responses so far, I cherish each and every one of them. You're the best <3

[stylesberries]

Rainbow Cardigan

Summary: Harry loses his favorite cardigan. You learn how to knit. (Based on the JW Anderson cardigan knitting trend.)

Genre(s): fluff, a sexual innuendo

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning(s): mentions of sexual intercourse.

Harry’s sense of style is one of the main things that make people around automatically drowns to him. High waisted flares, custom Gucci suits and newsboy caps - Harry in a nutshell.

His style is so distinctive, that even if his face and tattoos were covered, people around would still recognize him just by looking at his outfit.

You, of course, are one of the many fans of Harry’s style. Being his girlfriend had its benefits. Getting to steal his clothes was, obviously, on top of the list.

“Sweetheart!” Harry calls out for you from the bedroom.

You got up from your place in the living room, following your boyfriend’s voice. You knew that if he just wanted to tell you something, he would’ve texted. He clearly needs you to come up to him, so that’s exactly what you do.

Going up the stairs, you kept thinking about who could be the killer in the new detective series episode you’ve been watching.

When you reached your bedroom, your eyes trailed right to your worrying boyfriend, who was walking in circles around the room with his brows furrowed and in deep thought.

“Love, is everything okay? You seem upset.” You gently started.

He really looked frustrated, and you had no idea what was the reason behind it. He would always take every hardship light-heartedly, knowing that everything can be solved and everything can be fixed, and if that’s not the case, he would say, “Well, that’s what life’s about, isn’t it? It can’t always be easy. That’s the beauty of it.” Your mind started walking in circles just like your distraught boyfriend, thinking about anything that could’ve caused him to react this way.

“Y/N, I think I lost m’rainbow cardigan.”

Then it hit you. He really loved that cardigan. It wasn’t just adorable, warm and cozy. He wore it for your first date, and being someone who imbues everything with meaning and gets emotionally attached to things, his reaction wasn’t surprising to you.

“My dear, I’m sure we will find it. Come on. I’ll help you lo-”He cut you off full of sadness and frustration.

“I’ve already looked everywhere, and I mean everywhere. I’ve looked in every room, on every shelf. I looked under every couch, just in case. I even checked the stove. Like, come on, it could never be there, but I still looked! I don’t know what t’do. I always take it along wherever I go. If I am here and it’s not - I lost it. I fucking lost it. Y/N, what do I do? Where else could I look?” He was full-on bawling now. You couldn’t help but cut the distance separating you short and hug him.

“Don’t worry, Har. We will find it. I know how much it means to you. We’ll find it.” You kept repeating it. Although, your voice was muffled by his hair, he caught every word leaving your mouth.

“I cannot lose it. I can’t. What if it’s lost forever? How could I let it out of my sight?” The sight of him so genuinely saddened by the situation made you let out a sigh. You were full of compassion and understanding, trying to remember the last time you saw the poor cardigan. Failing to do so, you turned to your crushed boyfriend and tried to get information out of him.

“When did you last see it, baby? Do you remember?” You carefully asked, trying your best not to push him even more. Judging by his appearance, you knew that he could easily beat himself up for losing the cardigan to a point of having an anxiety attack, and that was the last thing you wanted right now.

You watched him slowly breathe air in and out, trying to slow his heart rate down.

“I haven’t seen it for over a week. The last time I’ve seen it was at the studio, I think. I put it on t’go there. It was cold that day.” He explained.

You remembered exactly what day he was talking about. He went to the studio early and you missed him a lot, so when he came back home you jumped on him, which later on led to a heated make out session. The thing was that you didn’t remember taking the cardigan off of him that day.

“Har.” You tried to be as gentle as you possibly could, but you knew that there wasn’t anything that could make him feel better about losing something so dear to him.

“Yeah?” He took a step back and looked at your saddened face.

“I’m afraid you came home without the cardigan.”

After having your crying-your-eyes-out-because-of-a-piece-of-clothing session, you were determined to find the cardigan. Knowing that Harry just went to the studio and back that day, you did the same. Harry asked everyone working at the studio if they’ve seen the cardigan, and with every new person your hope withered more and more. As you asked more people and tried to track the cardigan down, you realized that it was probably lost on a bench he sat on by the studio, to drink his morning coffee. That meant that you’ll never see it again. Understanding the hopelessness of the situation, Harry gave up looking.

Seeing your Harry walking around the house completely destroyed by the situation, you couldn’t help, but think about a way to make him feel better.

He would skip his morning runs to sulk in the bed, cuddled up in the blankets with his feet tangled with yours. Harry was never one to skip any part of his daily routine, so you understood how attached he was to the lost cardigan.

One night, after you both finished your dinner and went to watch some rom-com in the living room, your grandmother called. You apologized to Harry and answered the call.

As you gave her an update on your life these days, Harry cuddled closed into your side and let his eyes close.

Your grandmother asked you about everything, starting from what you had for breakfast to how your university project was going.

In couple of minutes Harry started lightly snoring into your ear. Next thing you know she’s telling you about the new blanket that she knitted.

Then an idea came to your mind. You’ll knit him a new cardigan.

Next day was spent shopping for yarn and needles and watching knitting tutorials. The fact that Harry was out in the studio made it even easier for you to bring your ideas to life.

In the beginning you found it a little hard, but with a little motivation you knitted a couple of colorful squares, just like the ones in Harry’s precious cardigan.

The image of the cardigan mostly came from your head, but whenever you needed a reference you could type “Harry Styles Rainbow Cardigan” into Google and freshen the memories.

It took you some time to get the cardigan together, knitting every little square with the other, making sure everything is as neat as possible.

You felt bad for lying to your sweetheart, but you had to admit - it was fun running around hiding your surprise from him.

When the cardigan was ready, you took a look at your creation.

Although, it wasn’t the same as the one you both had so many memories with, it was made with love, coming straight from your heart.

You finished the last touches at about 7 o’clock, and Harry was supposed to come home a bit later today due to a meeting with the management. You waited for him until late evening and found a box to put your little creation into.

After folding the wrapping paper around the box and tying a bow from the ends of the yellow ribbon, that was now wrapped around the sides of the box, you laid down in your bed and picked up an unread book to finally finish it.

In an hour or so your exhausted boyfriend stepped into the house. You could head his steps coming from outside of the bedroom. By the time he came back home, the book found its way back on the side table, as you wrapped the blanket around yourself to mimic the warmth of missing Harry.

Harry walked into the room slowly, making sure he doesn’t step on certain creaking planks in the floor, not to wake you up. He carefully undressed himself and folded the corner of the blanket to get under it. As he carefully positioned himself next to you, you turned around, making sure not to take him by surprise and scare the living shit out of him.

“You’re so late, love. Did something happen?” You asked, hoping that everything was okay with the upcoming tour. Your mind didn’t view anything else as a possibility because you trusted him completely. You knew you had nothing to worry about, as he proved his loyalty to you enough for you not to have any doubts about it.

“Jeff kept me a bit late, m’precious. We were going through the tour schedule. I’m sorry I made y’worry, baby.” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a kiss on your temple. You let him shower you with more and more kisses, before you remembered the box you hid in the closet. You eyes abruptly opened and Harry caught the look of realization on your face.

“What happened, bean? Not in the mood?” He made sure to ask you.

You got up from the bed, pushing his hands off of you, and walked right to the closet.

“Baby? Is everything alright?” Harry was confused over the way you were acting.

You left his questions unanswered and grabbed the box, after opening the doors of the closet looking for it. You walked back up to the bed, but now from Harry’s side. He seemed completely oblivious of what was coming next and, obviously, awaited for an explanation.

“It’s a present. For you.” You now let yourself smile at him, after putting on a show to freak him out. You let out a laugh after seeing Harry look insulted by the way you played with his feelings.

“You’re a meanie. That’s not cute. Was gonna make love to you just now, but I am no longer going to do so.” Harry ended the dramatically long sentence with a theatrical frown.

Despite the little show he put on for you, he couldn’t help but keep looking at the box, laying in front of him.

“What’s that?” He curiously asked.

“Open and see for yourself.” You moved closer to him, with only the box separating you.

Harry carefully unwrapped the bow, making sure he doesn’t rip the paper you carefully wrapped. Something so small, almost unnoticeable, but another thing you loved about this man. There was love in every little gesture and move of his. He could’ve just torn the paper and the ribbon off, acting on his curiosity, but he didn’t. He knew you took time to make it look pretty for him, and he wouldn’t ruin your creation, even if it’s just wrapping paper.

When Harry got to opening the box, he looked up at you, as if asking for your permission. You nodded, smile grazing your face.

As the lid came off the box and the bright colors of the carefully knitted cardigan started gleaming from the light, coming from the lamp on the bedside table, Harry’s facial expression turned from curiosity to utter shock. Noticing his surprise, you chose to speak up.

“I made it myself. I knew how heartbroken you were after losing that cardigan, so I thought - maybe I could knit it for you. I know it’s not perfect, but it would make me very happy if you kept it.” You nervously blabbered, thinking that he didn’t seem as happy as you thought he would be.

“You knitted it yourself?” He looked up at you in shock with tearful eyes, as his hands finally let themself touch the buttons of the item.

“I did. I watched tutorials on YouTube. Thanks to those, I learned how to knit.” You joked, trying to lighten up the atmosphere.

“You learned how to knit to make this for me?” His voice turned raspy, as it always did when he got emotional and he looked like he desperately needed a hug.

So that’s what you gave him.

“Come here, my love. Please don’t cry. I didn’t knit it to make you sad. I wanted to make you happy.” You cooed into his ear.

Harry held onto you with such need and desperation, that you haven’t seen him show before. He squeezed you closer, his hands still keeping hold of the knitted piece.

“You made me so happy. You make me so fucking happy.”

© all right belong to stylesberries. do not repost or modify.

[meichenxi]

tldr; autistic parents are fantastic and fuck you if you think otherwise, signed, a disaster queer adhd daughter

So on the back of a lot of negative stuff I've been coming across recently I wanted to take a moment and talk about my dad. He is autistic and chronically ill, and has been unable to hold a job down since I was eight or nine. He only ever responds with brutal, crushing honesty when I ask him how he is (and as he's chronically ill, the answers are rarely fun); he doesn't have any close relationships with any other adults and is so afraid of crowds he sprints through them leaving the children to run after him as best they can; he very rarely told me I was doing well and never seemed to understand my point of view, much less my mother's; he would never talk about anything other than bloody knitting, rocks or conservation, he could eat approximately 0.5 foods but also had no job to buy anything better; he frequently goes around naked because 'it feels nice' causing me to SCREAM -

He's my favourite person in the entire world.

Growing up, there were so many things he taught me. His special interests were geology, nature conservation, wildlife gardening, taiji, mythology and knitting. When we were kids, we went out for long walks for miles and miles in the drizzling British countryside - when I was young, my brother and mum would lag behind and me and my dad would skip ahead, jumping over the rocks, and he'd tell with great excitement why THAT twisty line of quartz was actually less exciting that this outcrop here; he'd teach me about the Salmon of Wisdom and the folk that live over the sea and never grow old, and impress on me with utter seriousness how I must never tell a stranger my name unless they tell me theirs first; he'd sit down with me and draw patterns for a jumper he was thinking of in the mud with a stick, and then we'd have a sword fight. I never understood half of the things he told me, but listened with wonder, because he was my dad, and he knew everything.

When I was a little older, we made up stories that lasted for hours, and memorised poetry together from Lord of the Rings (because THERE our interests collided with galactic force) and he'd do all of the voices just perfectly. We went one whole summer just quoting LOTR to each other, and it was our little secret: Mum might hear 'Yes,' but only I would hear what came after: 'Yes,' said Frodo, or 'Yes!' cried Boromir. And when I told him my story about a woman who lived in a volcano he listened quietly and told me that that wasn't how volcanoes worked, but that he could help me write it better.

Everybody's autism is different. For my dad, it rendered him completely incapable to work and was paralysing in social situations, but when it was just me and him, he told the most wonderful stories. I wanted to be a geologist just listening to his voice, and then a writer, and then finally someone who understood the land like he did and the sea.

And he made me feel normal. He made me feel heard. With my mum, as much as I loved her, I would get vague noises of assent as she struggled to look after everybody in this damn house, or irritable 'Would you just be quiet for ONE second?' I was a talented kid, and everybody praised me at pretty much everything: but the only person who would consider anything I wrote like it was an adult's writing, with seriousness and criticism, was my dad. He didn't tell me I did well often. Instead he would take my picture, or my writing, and look at it with great seriousness, and ask me WHY the Queen was so intent on kidnapping beautiful princesses in the first place. I could trust him to tell me whether I did something well or not, because he never, never lied. Not to please me, and not to please anyone. It cost him his marriage and his job, but it was a rock of stability in my life : my mother was volatile, frequently furious enough to resort to violence, and she lied and laughed and told us what we wanted to hear, but he was always reliable. If he was angry, we knew.

When I spoke for hours about my languages, he listened, nodded, and then spoke about his plants. It was a perfect give and take because I didn't expect him to care about my languages, and he never expected me to care about his plants. We just cared about the other.

And when I didn't make any friends and couldn't interact with the other children without despair he was always there with a silent offer of a bike ride, or catch in the park. He was always the fittest person I knew, despite his illness. He had lots of grand ideas - once he climbed the tree outside our house and tried to rig up a platform fifteen metres above the ground. After three days he was inconsolable. He wouldn't speak, he just sat there. But a few days later he started drawing up plans and attacked it again, and this time it worked.

My dad is great for a lot of reasons, and difficult for a lot of reasons too. Some of these are just him - but some are specifically related to his autism, and I think it's important that we talk about that too, especially in the context of parenthood. Because we see a lot of positivity about young autistic adults and kids, but older adults are just as valuable and just as in need of support and recognition, particularly because they may have gone through so much. My dad was made to stand in a bucket of urine for three days as a kid to 'pull himself together'. Spoilers: it didn't work.

And I'm not autistic myself, but many of my ADHD behaviours are so much easier around him because he just. gets it. If I don't like a certain food because of the texture, he never buys it again - I don't need to explain myself. We leave all social events early, which is wonderful because he is very stressed and I am either so high on adrenaline I'm in danger of injuring myself or exhausted to the point of not being able to talk. We run through crowds together because he hates crowds and I like the chance to stretch my legs. We don't touch or keep in contact very much, because neither of us see the point or like small talk, and I'm terrible at messaging anyone, but I know (and he knows) as soon as we need each other we're there. We do handstands on the beach together and he points out plants on the way back along with their Latin names. He never bothers me about talking to my friends or stopping clowning and watching my stupid shows or spending ten hours a day on Chinese or Tolkien. He never mocks me for needing space and time after anything. We lie on the concrete together because it's so damned warm and nice and adgshhhhh. We spend hours playing taiji and doing push hands in the kitchen, and our 'love language', if you will, is him trying to throw me to the ground. We both get 100% of our emotional intelligence from books, and in any arguments can use this to great effect. I talk at him for an hour, and then he talks at me for an hour. I know so much about fucking willow trees.

So people who say that autistic parents are cold and incapable of care? My dad was the most sincere, honest and helpful parent a child could have ever asked for. Things were difficult, but it helped me understand that parents too have needs, and that adults are all just grown up kids trying their best. I didn't know why he was different as a kid, and I didn't much care - I just wanted to be a geologist like my daddy.

[shysneeze]

Colour Me Surprised | George Weasley x F!Reader

Description : the reader and George are perfect for one another, which complicates things when fates is telling them otherwise

 soulmate au in which you only see colour when you meet your soulmate - from this request

Warnings: kinda angsty, arguments (if I’ve missed anything please tell me so I can add it) 

Taglist: 

general taglist: @accioweaslcy 

george taglist: @amourtentiaa ,  @omghufflepuff , @daisyyy2516 , @i-padfootblack-things , @imtooanonymousforyou 

(this is the form for anyone wanting to join :))

“Leave me alone, George!”

The intensity of (Y/N)’s voice sends several younger pupils scattering from the common room before the door has even swung shut behind her and a second voice joins her, just as full of the same sharp anger.

Stumbling in behind her, George reaches for her, fingers curling around her wrist before she can storm up to her dorm. (Y/N) pulls from his grasp with a huffed breath, though his touch has left that warm buzz on her skin as it’s prone to do.

“Please,” He pants, “Let me talk-“

“No, George,” She seethes, “What are you going to say that can justify setting off a portable swamp underneath my date's chair!?”

He grimaces.

“It was only a small one?” 

“George!” 

Even as the remaining pupils scatter from the common room, no one can blame them. It’s cruel in a way really, that the world should throw together two people so perfect for one another, and allow fate to tell them otherwise.

Although, perhaps the whole theory of soulmates is cruel by itself.

It’s fine when you’re a child, when seeing the world in shades of black and white is normal. When you’re so young, colour is just one of the unsolved mysteries brought by youth, like where the moon goes in the morning or why the clouds seem to be in such a hurry to pass us by.

It’s growing older that brings that itch, that thirst for colour, the desire to know the different shades of the sky and the pigments of petals so warmly spoken of in stories.

Colour comes with soulmates, it’s the rule of life… but life has never been rumoured to be fair.

While a large portion of wizards and witches meet their soulmates when they start Hogwarts, and upon doing so are thrown into a world colour, no longer strangers to the warm oranges of sunshine and the cool greens of the leaves on the trees, many aren’t quite so lucky. 

It can take years, lifetimes for the truly unlucky, to meet, the person the universe has tied your soul to, the perfect match, the missing piece of an incomplete heart. It’s what anyone might look at George Weasley and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and see… a perfect pair. 

In fact it was Fred who first believed so. So excited to introduce them back in third year, so convinced by ‘twin’s instinct’ of their destiny for one another that he practically dragged George to her, only to be sorely disappointed when their faces never brightened with the joy of seeing colour for the first time. 

It’s left them with only friendship, one strained by the desire for more. Years of getting to know each other, of the quirks and habits so perfect for one another’s, has only added to the frustration of being destined for other people.

“It was an accident!”

He falters under her warning gaze.

“Well, kind of- I was planning to prank him anyway.” He admits, “ I’m very sorry it interfered with your date.”

She wishes he were lying, it might make it easier to be this angry at him for it. Though from years of friendship, of wishing for more, she’s able to pick out every edge to his voice and there's no lift in his tone where there would be with a lie.

“I mean I did help you dodge a bullet.”

Like that, the anger is again justified.

“Oh come on, everyone knows about Liam, (Y/N),” He argues, “He’s a player and you deserve better.”

“That’s my decision to make!”

He falters, nodding reluctantly.

“I know and I’m sorry but-“ He sighs, “He’s not your soulmate.”

Neither are you

It sits there on her tongue like fire, held back as not to burn him, and most likely, herself, with its truth.

“I know that,” (Y/N) spits weakly, her resolve to be angry crumbling with the newly returned pain in her chest, longing she assumes. “That doesn’t mean I can’t date. Who knows when I’ll meet my soulmate? Is it so bad to want to be loved in the meantime?”

You are.

It’s written all over his face and her heart twists with it. Every fibre of her being wants to love him, in fact she’s already sure she does, but to be with him now will only hurt more when, inevitably, he leaves for somebody else, the person who brings colours to his eyes.

“Don’t say it.”

It comes out pleading, her eyes scrunched and lips beginning to wobble in the anticipation of tears. Eyes shut though, she can still hear the way his breath hitches.

“Clearly you already know.”

One last spark of anger ignites in her chest, though as the words tumble out she’s not sure it’s at him as much as it is at fate, whatever cruel, twisted thing put him in her life, taunting her with something that can never be hers.

“I know!” She seethes, eyes opening only to frown, “Everything tells me it’s you. Every bit of me wants it to be you and yet every time i look at you all I see is grey and it hurts!”

When she meets his gaze, her tight knit frown is mimicked with the same frustration as her own.

But his eyes.

His eyes aren’t the same as she’s always seen them, bursting with a colour she doesn’t know, but warm, like the feeling of the sun on her skin on a late summer afternoon and they’re glittered by speckles of something else that she craves the name of.

His hair is bright and vibrant and just a shade darker than the millions of freckles that dot his cheeks, that hide in his dimples and the crease between his brow that is slowly easing in surprise.

“You’re beautiful...”

Something warm floods his pale cheeks and he hears her breath hitch at the sight. She’s not sure how she’s lived  her whole life deprived of something as wonderful as this.

“We’re soulmates.”

“Colour me surprised.”

A second passes for him to grow sheepish under her disapproving gaze.

“Too soon?”

“Yep.”

“I knew it,” He says quietly, as if saying then any louder will take away their truth and fling them back into the dull world they were in only moments ago. “I just knew it,”

Yet she can’t find the same joy he has, held back only by the question of why, why now of all times? This isn’t their first meeting, this isn’t how it works.

“I can practically hear your brain working on overdrive.”

“I don’t understand,” She begins to frown again, “I’ve known you for so long- soulmates are supposed to see colour the first time they meet and we- we met years ago.”

“I know.”

“I guess you hear of g-glitches sometimes...” (Y/N) begins to ramble, finger pulling nervously at her sleeves, “It’s rare but-“

“It doesn’t matter,” George blurts softly, warm hand pulling her own from her sleeves and clasping it reassuringly, “We’re soulmates, (Y/N).”

“We are,”

The strange knot that has been tying itself in her chest with worry begins to come loose, eyes finding his again, those little specks of colour swimming in warmth. Then, his hair, his beautiful bright hair.

“Are you going to stop staring at my hair long enough to let me kiss you?”

“I don’t know, George,” Her lips twitched into a teasing smile, “It’s so bright-“

The rest of her sentence lodges itself in her throat with his face suddenly inches from her own. His breath tingles her lips and she feels herself gulping.

“I’m sure I can admire it more later...”

His lips meet hers with that same buzz left by his touch and she finds herself wondering momentarily if it’s a soulmate thing, though kissing him soon replaces all other thoughts.

It’s perfect, and somehow having missed out on this is worse than ever having missed out on colours. In fact, she’s sure she’d sooner give up colour all over again for the promise of getting to kiss him.

As he pulls back though with his cheeks awash with that bright blush, warm where her fingers have lifted to cup his cheeks subconsciously as they kissed, she’s glad she doesn’t have to.

[chudleycanonficfest]

A Million Possibilities

Day 3, Story #1 is by @honouraryweasley12

Title: A Million Possibilities Author/Artist: honouraryweasley12 Pairing: Arthur/Molly Prompt: First Date Rating: PG Trigger Warning(s) (if any): None

"So, is today the big day?" Rodney sat down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, clapping his friend on the back before grabbing a slice of bread.

Arthur Weasley stared down at his porridge, a sickly look on his thin face. He glanced slyly down the table at her, before returning to his breakfast with a sigh. "I suppose so."

"That's the spirit. The first Hogsmeade trip is at the end of the week. You don't want to miss the opportunity again, do you?"

"No, I don't." He'd badly wanted to ask her last year, but couldn't summon up the courage, fearful of the rejection. Over the summer, he'd resolved he would do it this year, but it was far easier to make those promises to himself when she wasn't so close, like she was now.

Rodney grinned. "Everyone knows you fancy her anyway, so you might as well get it over with and stop moping."

Arthur looked up at his classmate and frowned. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"What's the worst that could happen, eh? If she says no, you move on." He puffed out his chest. "We're Fifth Years now, we're practically adults. You've got to have some confidence."

Arthur shook his head and gulped. "I think it would be far worse if she said yes."

Just then, a boisterous laugh rang out from the end of the table, causing Arthur's head to shoot up and take her in.

"You've got it bad," Rodney remarked. "When do you think you'll do it?"

"After classes today. I hope I can catch her alone. That way when she rejects me, at least it won't be in front of her friends." The thought of it caused him to push the bowl away. "I'm suddenly not hungry."

"You'll be fine."

"I hope so." He suddenly stood up, needing a breath of air. "I'll see you in Potions."

Had he looked back, he would have spotted two pairs of eyes watching him with great interest.

~*~

"I can't believe how many assignments we've got. When are we supposed to study for OWLs with all of this extra work?"

"Mmm," was Arthur's reply, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"Did you even hear a word in any of our classes this morning?" Rodney asked, a smirk on his face. "Or were all your thoughts on one Miss Prewett?"

"Shut it," Arthur replied through tightly pressed lips. "Someone might hear."

"Too late for that."

The two boys spun around, only to find the identical grinning visages of Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Arthur gulped; the two Seventh Years were known for their magical prowess.

Fabian motioned to Rodney. "You go for lunch; we want to have a quick chat with Mr. Weasley here."

Rodney wished him good luck, and hurried off.

Gideon threw an arm around the younger boy's shoulders, even though they were about the same height. "We understand that you fancy our little sister."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb with us, we know you want to ask her to Hogsmeade. You really shouldn't talk about such sensitive things in the Great Hall—you never know who might be listening."

Arthur knew his charade was pointless, his shoulders slumping. "I was planning on asking her. But you don't have to worry, I don't think she'll say yes."

"That may be, but we were coming to warn you about her."

Arthur pulled out of Gideon's grasp, affronted. "What?"

"Don't misunderstand us, we love our sister and would do anything for her, but she has a very… strong personality. We came to warn you not to get bullied by her. She can be rather overpowering, downright scary even."

"But you're two of the most powerful wizards in the school."

Fabian smiled. "Yeah, but we can't exactly duel our little sister every time we get into a sibling argument. There's actually very little we can do when she's made her mind up about something."

"That's one of the things I like about her, that she is very strong-minded, not to mention caring, and beautiful." Arthur was smiling but was broken out his thoughts by the gagging sounds the twins were making.

"Look," Gideon said. "You seem like a nice enough bloke, so we'll leave you to it. I will say this though—if we do hear anything about you being less than respectful to our sister, then you will have to deal with us. Do you understand?"

Arthur nodded quickly.

"Oh, and don't tell her we said anything. It wouldn't be good for any of us. Now, hurry along."

They watched as the lanky redhead turned the corner.

"Poor bloke," Fabian remarked. "He has no idea what he's getting himself into, does he?"

"He certainly doesn't."

~*~

"What was that about?" Rodney asked as Arthur flopped down and let out a groan.

"If the asking wasn't bad enough, now I have to worry about those two."

"Well, you can't be surprised, they are her older brothers. I hope it's worth it."

Arthur happened to look up, and that moment, caught Molly's eye. She flashed him a quick smile, but all he could do was grimace awkwardly before looking away. He missed seeing the flash of disappointment on her face.

"She's definitely worth it. From all the time we've spent together in class, or studying, or even just chatting in the Common Room, I really like her company. I just don't know if I can ask her out without losing my lunch."

~*~

Arthur exited their last class of the day with great reluctance, knowing that his time was up. As he walked to the Great Hall for dinner, he spotted the object of his affections walking in front of him with a group of her friends.

He felt a nudge against his shoulder from Rodney. "Now's your chance."

"Here goes nothing." Arthur took a deep breath. "Molly?"

She stopped and turned, giving him a smile before signalling to her friends to go on without her. Rodney sped past them as well, nodding at Molly before disappearing down a nearby stairway.

She patted her hair before addressing him. "Yes, Arthur?"

He surreptitiously wiped his hands on the back of his robes, before running a hand through his ginger hair. "H-how are you?"

"I'm well, thank you. How are you?"

"I-I'm fine."

There was a long pause, but Molly's encouraging expression was enough to spur him on. "As you know, there is a Hogsmeade trip coming up. Sometimes, that is, some people like to go to Hogsmeade with other people, not their friends."

He knew he was babbling now but couldn't stop himself from getting flustered. "I thought maybe that could be something you might be interested in."

She let out a small laugh, her cheeks rosy as she placed her hands on her hips. "Arthur Weasley, are you asking me on a date?"

"Yes, I am. Molly, will you go to Hogsmeade with me?"

"I would be delighted to. In fact, I've been hoping you would ask for some time."

Arthur was incredulous, his eyebrows flying up. "You have?"

"Yes, I have." She reached out and squeezed his forearm, letting her hand linger. "I thought I had been rather obvious in my attempts to flirt."

"Oh," Arthur blushed. "I assumed you were just being friendly. I did almost ask you last year, but I didn't think you'd say yes. Blimey, I didn't think you'd say yes now!"

"You had nothing to be worried about. You've always been sweet to me, and I've noticed."

He grinned at her, relieved to hear her say so. "So shall I meet you in the Common Room on Saturday morning?"

Her joyous expression mirrored his. "That sounds lovely."

He let out a breath. "Great! I'll see you then." He didn't know what possessed him to do so, but he stooped down and kissed her gently on the cheek, before walking away and smacking himself on the forehead.

The red in Molly's cheeks deepened, and she lifted a hand to her face, letting out a sigh of her own. Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

~*~

He watched in awe as she descended the stairs into the Common Room, her flaming red hair pulled elegantly over her shoulder. A thin coat and a nice jumper were perfect for the fall weather, and she wore a long, loose skirt to complete the outfit.

"You look wonderful," Arthur complimented her as she reached him.

She beamed. "You don't look so bad yourself," she replied, sliding her arm through his. "Shall we?"

He nodded, dumbstruck that he was going out on an actual date with Molly Prewett. From the corner of his eye, he saw Fabian and Gideon watching the two of them, and he quickly looked away.

He was nervous but found making idle chit chat with her as they walked into the village to be rather easy. As the minutes ticked away, he felt himself getting more and more comfortable. It certainly didn't hurt that every few minutes she gave him a cute smile or laughed at one of his jokes. He felt drawn to her.

"Would you mind if we stopped at Scrivenshaft's?" Molly asked, breaking him out of his reverie.

"No, of course not. Running low on quills already?"

"No, nothing like that. I wanted to get some yarn. I took up knitting over the summer and want to continue practicing. I made this jumper, in fact."

"You did? That's incredible! I was admiring it earlier."

"You were admiring it, were you?" She winked at him, causing him to flush. "I'll just be a moment."

Arthur wrung his hands as paced outside of the shop, taking some deep breaths. Everything was going pretty well in his estimation, and he still couldn't believe that she seemed to like him as much as he liked her.

"Miss me?"

He nodded, reaching out a hand to take the bag from her. She grabbed his other hand and their fingers locked. He looked down, and then looked at her.

"Is this alright?" She asked.

He nodded again, and smiled, giving her hand a gentle squeeze which she returned. It seemed like a big step, to be holding hands so that everyone could see, and yet it felt right.

Molly's cheeks were glowing, and her eyes were sparkling. "Where to next?"

"I thought we might sit down somewhere. How about Madam Puddifoot's? It'll be quiet there. If that's fine with you, of course?"

"That sounds perfectly fine to me, Arthur."

The two walked through the village, enveloped in a bubble of giddiness. Arthur kept looking down at their joined hands. He already knew he was smitten with the red-headed witch.

The décor of the establishment was far simpler in the fall than at other times of the year, like Christmas and Valentine's Day. They were quickly ushered to a booth in the back and took their seats, facing each other. Once they settled in, Arthur took her hand in his again, resting them on the tabletop.

"This is nice, isn't it? Just the two of us?"

"No meddling family is a nice change, though it wouldn't surprise me if my brothers were in the next booth, listening in."

Arthur peeked at the next booth over and saw a couple snogging. "Don't worry, we seem to be safe here."

"You know about my brothers. Tell me about your family, what are they like?"

Arthur launched into a few tales about his family, which seemed to enthrall her before they were interrupted for their order.

"We don't have much, but we get on quite well."

"That's nice to hear. Some of my more distant relations on the Black side are quite… eccentric in their views of certain things."

"Oh, me too. I have some relations in the Black family, but we're not involved with them. I've heard their ideas on Muggles are rather disturbing."

"You're quite interested in Muggles, aren't you?"

"Oh yes," Arthur replied. "I find them absolutely fascinating, the way they come up with creative ideas and make things to make their lives easier without magic. They seem to come up with a million possibilities to solve a problem. Did you know American and Russian Muggles are trying to fly to the moon? Imagine that! I don't think wizards and witches would ever contemplate such a thing."

"It's rather cute to see you get so excited about it. Most wizards wouldn't."

"I know most people in our world would find it silly, but it is really interesting to me. I wouldn't mind working in Muggle Relations one day. I'm aiming for an Outstanding in my Muggle Studies OWL."

"Oh, don't remind me. I'm not looking forward to sitting those. It's going to be a difficult year, isn't it?"

He squeezed her hand. "Well, the year has started out brilliantly."

She waved him away but couldn't hide her pleasure. "I never took you for such a romantic."

"It's the truth. I've been hoping for this for awhile now. I've known you for four years, and I've fancied you for at least half that time."

She looked at him curiously. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you about that. I know I'm not the prettiest girl in our year, and I know I have a reputation of being somewhat bossy and strong-willed. Those don't seem like typical qualities one would be looking for."

Arthur grabbed her other hand in his.

"I happen to like the fact that you speak your mind and have your opinions. I've also seen you helping the younger students, and you're so generous and caring. I think those are especially important qualities in a person. I don't know what it is, but I feel so comfortable around you, like I can be myself."

"That's very nice to hear."

He leaned forward. "I also happen to think that you're quite fetching."

"You're a charmer, if I've ever met one."

"I'm serious. You are the prettiest girl in our year. At least to me you are."

She scoffed and shook her head. "I'll take your word for it."

At that moment, their server arrived with their tea and snacks, forcing them to let go of their hands and end their conversation. After a few bites, Molly continued.

"What did you get up to in the summer?"

"Well, we can't really afford to go on any fancy trips, but my family has a plot of land out in the country, near Devon. It's nothing special, but it's ours. We spent a lot of time there, cleaning things up. There's a small house on the property, so we fixed that up as well. I think my parents mean for me to have it when I'm older."

"Oh, isn't that nice! It sounds like a wonderful place. It must be beautiful out there."

"It's very peaceful. It seems like a nice place to raise a family. Not that I'm insinuating—" He dropped his fork with a clatter at that moment, causing her to giggle.

"You are a surprising one, Arthur. In a good way, though. I don't know of many sixteen-year-old boys who are thinking about such things."

"Oh, well, I guess I am a little bit odd then. I think it would be nice to have a big family one day, lots of little red-headed children running around."

"Who said they would have red hair?"

"Well, we both—" His eyes popped open, and he choked slightly on the scone he was eating, before gulping down his tea.

"Do you usually plan your entire future on your first dates? Is there a proposal coming?"

He shook his head, mortified. She let out a laugh and grabbed his hand again, entwining their fingers. "I'm only teasing."

After he recovered his wits, he couldn't help but respond. "I guess your brothers aren't the only troublemakers in the family."

"Certainly not," she replied, eyeing him mischievously while taking another sip of her tea.

They bantered on, talking about school, gossiping about their friends, and complaining about their teachers. The conversation flowed naturally until Arthur noticed other couples drifting out of the teashop.

"I think it's getting late; I suppose we should head back to the castle."

"Yes, we wouldn't want to get detention. Though I wouldn't mind it if I got to spend it with you."

As Molly finished up her tea, Arthur signalled to the server that they were done. After proudly paying their bill, he clasped Molly's hand again and led her out of the shop.

He peered around for a moment before setting off through the village, swiveling his head every few seconds.

"Arthur, is everything alright? We still have plenty of time."

"Y-Yes, of course."

"Then why do keep looking over your shoulder?"

"Oh… I don't want to say."

"I'd really rather you did."

Arthur stopped and sighed. "Your brothers threatened me if I did anything disrespectful toward you."

She frowned. "Those brothers of mine are going to get a piece of my mind. I'll have you know that I've had a lovely time, and you've been a complete gentleman."

"That's the problem, you see." He smiled down at her. "I would really like to kiss you right now… and not on the cheek this time."

"Don't concern yourself about Fabian and Gideon, I'll take care of them—and I'll decide what is disrespectful. Now, are you going to kiss me or not?"

He pulled her to a secluded area, away from the prying eyes of the other students. Cupping her face with his hands gently, he pressed his lips to hers. She responded and deepened their kiss, her arms wrapping around his narrow waist. It was bliss.

After they broke apart, they shared a smile and resumed walking back to the castle, hand-in-hand.

"Molly," he stated suddenly. "Will you go steady with me?"

"Go where?"

"Oh, it's a Muggle term. Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, I would like that very much, my boyfriend."

His laughed bubbled up, unable to hide his happiness at the prospect. He was walking on a cloud as they made their way through the castle and up to the Common Room.

He realized his mistake too late, forgetting to drop her hand as they entered through the portrait hole. The were immediately set upon by Molly's twin brothers.

"What do we have here?"

"Well, you see—" Arthur began, only to be cut off by Molly.

"Arthur is my boyfriend now, no thanks to you two. Any attempts to threaten him in the future will be met with… a response. Do I make myself clear?"

Arthur was amazed at her gall and was even more amazed that they cowered at her words. If he wasn't already completely taken by her, that would have done it.

The two looked thoroughly chastened and agreed.

"Right then." Molly reached up and deliberately kissed him on the cheek in front of her siblings. "Thank you, Arthur, dear. I had a wonderful time. Shall we go study in the library? I'll go get my books."

He nodded, giving her hand a quick squeeze before they separated.

"Arthur, dear?" Gideon said after she left, his face screwing up in disgust. "I hope you're looking forward to a lifetime of that, Weasley."

That didn't sound so bad to him. He suddenly felt like the Muggles he was talking about earlier; it was like he had a million possibilities—now that he had Molly in his life.

[jinmukangwrites]

Gifts

Read on AO3

Prompt

Summary: Wild tells of the gifts the past Champions have given him. All that's left is for the others to witness these gifts.

Warnings: Descriptions of injury, temporary character death.

Notes: Finally got a prompt done. Y'all proud of me? If you are, then know I wrote this instead of Chapter 2 of Succumb because I'm an awful creature who has a solid idea for the entire fic except Chapter 2 and I'm avoiding it. Stop being proud of me now.

---

“How about you, Champ?”

Wild blinks from the daze he's fallen into and looks up to see eight pairs of eyes all looking right at him. The moon hangs lazily above them, nothing more than a C-shape tied to the stars to watch them all talk themselves to sleep. Wild’s zoned out of this one, for reasons he can’t really explain why. It’s not that what they’re talking about tonight is particularly dull or offensive. It’s just… well… they’re talking about magic and discussing the common theme that seems most sources of magic that they know has been given to them.

Time and Great Fairies. Hyrule and wise men in caves. Wild’s sure the others all have similar stories, he’s just decided to not listen to them tonight.

“About me?” He asks hopefully. Maybe they have changed topics while he was trying to decide what the woodchip by his boot resembles.

Four leans forward on his knees, wiggling his eyebrows. “Any magical gifts that you’ve been holding out on us?”

Wild tries not to let his disappointment show on his face. “Ah.” He curls his fingers around the hem of his tunic before they could nervously knit with each other on his lap. “Nothing that’s important.”

Besides him, Twilight scoffs. “Nothing that’s important? Cub, either you really are holding out on us or you’re being humble.”

“Wild? Humble?” Warriors snorts. “Perish the thought.”

Wild sighs. “Really, I don’t have any cool stories to tell tonight. I’d much rather listen to you all.”

“Listen, huh?” Four challenges, grinning like an imp. “Who taught Hyrule how to shoot fire from his sword?”

Wild rolls his eyes. “Some old guy in a cave.”

“Actually,” Hyrule says with a soft, apologetic smile, “it was an old man in a basement.”

“What is up with you and old men?”

“Anyway,” Twilight says, giving Wild a hard look, “you’re obviously not listening. Is something wrong? You’re usually more talkative.”

Does Twilight have to be a doting old mother in front of everyone? Wild can feel himself bristling. “Maybe I just don’t feel like talking tonight. Vet isn’t talking and you’re not pestering him.”

“That’s because Vet never talks about himself,” Warriors says, foiling Wild’s entire argument. Legend has a smug look on his face. “Not unless he’s trying to heighten his own ego.” Legend’s smug look falls into a glare.

“Fine,” Legend says. “I’ll tell one. Then Champ can tell one, so that you all will get off both of our backs.”

“It has to be serious, Leg,” Wind butts in, completely oblivious to Wild’s dying hope of getting out of this conversation. “No ‘I got my magic from being super cooler than everyone else’ bull.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Legend snaps. “Besides, I don’t have magic. I have magical items. Which is just as useful.”

“Then what’s that one?” Sky points at the small clay ocarina in Legend’s hands. “You’ve been holding it all night.”

Legend stills and his face softens, and immediately the whole group can tell that whatever that ocarina is, Legend has feelings attached to it. He takes a deep breath. “It’s not very magic,” he says, his fingers rubbing over the holes reverently. “It used to be able to summon a gust of wind to take me wherever I needed to go. It could also awaken the dead under specific circumstances… now it’s nothing but clay. It doesn’t work anymore.”

“Where’d you get it?” Wind asked, and not unkindly. He, like the rest of the group, knows that Legend wouldn’t be holding an item so tenderly if it only didn’t work anymore.

Legend stays silent for a moment, allowing the crickets in the forests to sing uninterrupted. Then, his shoulders fall. “The most beautiful woman I ever met gave it to me. She had the most lovely voice. This… after… after I lost her, I woke up stranded at sea. It was around my neck on a string… it’s all the proof I have that she ever existed.”

Silence hangs over the group like a heavy blanket. Wild can’t help but feel a lob of guilt get stuck in his chest. All he can do is sit and watch Sky lean over and place a hand on Legend’s knee.

“Love is one of the most powerful magics an item can hold, even if it’s just a good memory.”

Legend brings a sleeve to his eye, holding the ocarina tightly with his other hand. “Oh shut it, you sap,” he says through a smile. Sky smiles back, and Wild curls his arms across his chest.

Besides him, Twilight looks at him. Not expectantly, though, but with understanding. Perhaps he knows now why sometimes someone would wish to stay silent during these kinds of nights. Not everyone got magical gifts from old men in caves. Or basements.

But the guilt sits, and no one is saying it’s Wild’s turn to spill some beans. Not even Legend. But how could he stay silent after Legend told something so personal and sad? It’s not fair, even if he’s the only one who thinks so.

He bites the arrow and takes a breath.

“I don’t have magic. I have… blessings. From friends I had before the Calamity.”

For the second time that night, eight pairs of eyes fall onto him.

“I don’t use them much anymore,” Wild continues; somehow his hands have made it to his lap anyways, knitting his fingers together like string on needles, “they gave me everything they had so I could defeat Calamity Ganon. Now that he’s gone, I don’t want to abuse their gifts any longer.”

“I don’t mean to pry…” Four says, “but maybe they gave you everything they had to help you. Maybe they didn’t consider it abuse.”

And somehow, Wild doesn’t feel like Four is prying at all. In fact, it startles a chuckle out of him. “Maybe. But not Revali, that’s for sure. He and I got along worse than Vet and Cap.”

“Not an easy feat,” Warriors says to the others while nudging Legend with his elbow. Legend rolls his eyes. “I’m impressed.”

“What blessing did he give you?” Wild asks. There’s stars in his eyes that always get there when he gets too interested in a story. Though, Wild supposes any story involving a rival-ship greater than their very own Legend and Warriors is something to be interested in.

“It was the power to call upon the gusts of wind he used to command with his powerful wings. He was a Rito, the best there ever was. He could fly into the air without having to jump off of ledges. The wind would carry him up itself, like it belonged to him.”

-o-o-o-o-

Agony is a poison pulsing through Hyrule’s leg. The fall had been great, and it’s a miracle Wild had been there to dive down and at least try to lesson the fall with his paraglider. The ground was weak in these desert-y canyons, and maybe Hyrule shouldn’t have gotten so close to the ledge to warrant his boot’s slipping, but at least Wild was there.

Hyrule’s ankle is broken, or at least badly sprained. Either way, it’s painful enough that he can’t even stand up as Wild paces the bottom of the crevasse they have found themselves in like a pair of cornered animals. The others… they’re close to an hour’s worth of time away. He and Wild were exploring and gathering whatever they could find that might be used as firewood as the sun began to set. It’s been a terribly awful day of traveling in the desert heat, and he and Wild were excited to experience the sunset’s breeze while the others set up camp.

They got too excited. Too far away. There’s no way anyone will hear them if they call. No one will come looking until the sky is black.

And who knows, maybe they won't consider that maybe they fell. Maybe, if they come looking, they won't look down the right scar in the land, and they will burn to death in tomorrow's sun.

“What do we do?” Hyrule asks through an embarrassingly choked voice. He’s been fighting tears since the moment his ankle bent wrongly in their crash landing. He knows Wild will not judge him for sobs, but it doesn’t make it any easier for him to allow any to escape.

Wild sighs and glares up at the lip of the cliff they’ve fallen from. “Any trinkets?” he asks back.

Hyrule bites his lip. He wishes he were like the others and had a trinket for every situation. Legend had promised to give him an old grappling hook he had hoarded away the next time they end up at his and Ravio’s place. “No.”

“Okay,” Wild says. Not angrily. “Okay.”

Determined?

“Champ?”

Wild takes a deep breath and looks down at Hyrule with… fire in his eyes. “I won’t be long. Will you be okay while I fetch the others?”

Hyrule licks his lips and looks down at his leg, already braced with brush twigs and the wrappings that usually decorate Wild’s arms. A cold breeze blows suddenly, making Hyrule shiver and remember the desert only takes what it’s given when it comes to heat. When the sun’s up, it thrives, and when it’s gone…

“Don’t take long,” he replies, even though he doesn’t really know what Wild’s about to do.

Wild nods, shrugging off the cloak he usually always wears and gives it to Hyrule. Hyrule nods his thanks and takes the warm accessory, placing it over his head and wrapping the caped section around his shoulders.

He watches as Wild walks towards the edge of the cliff facing where the others are with camp. Hyrule wonders what he’s about to do as he clings to the edge of the cloak. Wild unfolds his paraglider from his back, baffling Hyrule even more, and widens his stance.

A moment passes. Then another.

Then a gust of wind appears seemingly out from the floor, powerful enough to blow dust back and almost get in Hyrule’s eye if he hadn’t instinctively covered his eyes. There’s a flash of teal through his fingers… then an unfamiliar voice snorts.

“About time, runt.”

By the time Hyrule deems it safe enough to uncover his eyes without getting dust in them, Wild is already high in the air. The miracle gust of wind cyclones in the spot his friend used to be, growing weaker and weaker by the second before it’s gone completely. There’s no sign of whoever made that flash of teal… nor who spoke, but Hyrule doesn’t think too into it as Wild drops his paraglider and grabs onto the upper ledge of the cliff.

Far above him, Wild climbs to safety and looks over the edge. He waves, and Hyrule cannot help the giggle that climbs through his throat as he waves back.

Pain in his ankle be damned, whatever Wild just did was cool, and as Wild turns and runs towards the others he knows he won't be in pain for long.

Not much longer than an hour passes before the others come with their ropes and grappling hooks and worried voices. Wild glides down to him to help carry him up. There’s something about the way he stands that gives Hyrule the feeling that he… realized something today. He gives Hyrule a bottle of health, then helps tie a rope around his waist as his ankle begins to hurt a little less.

As he’s lifted off the ground towards the top of the cliff by his friends, he looks at Wild who is clinging tight to Hyrule’s body like a stronger lifeline than any rope or chain.

“Was that Revali?” He asks, without really thinking.

Wild looks at him with wide eyes, and then a wider smile. “Yeah.”

Hyrule smiles back. “He sounded like an asshole.”

A startled laugh bursts from Wild’s mouth as he throws his head back. “He is an asshole,” he agrees in good nature.

They reach the top. They reach the others. Twilight scolds their ears off the entire way back towards camp, and Hyrule can't stop grinning for his own safety… and for whatever mended in Wild’s heart tonight.

-o-o-o-o-

“What about the others?”

“Well… ah… there’s Daruk. He was one of my oldest friends. The strongest Goron there ever was, though he was a little fearful of dogs.” Wild laughs, as do the others politely; probably imagining the biggest Goron they could be scared of a small fluffy animal. “He had the strength to block anything, and he was always ready to take a blow for the team. Even after… even after… he still protected me. He gave me the ability to call upon even a fraction of that power, that way nothing could hurt me in case my own shield failed. Without him… I would not be here, I’m confident in that.”

-o-o-o-o-

They honestly should have expected an ambush before Warriors was the one to call it out. Four likes to consider himself lucky for coming from a comparatively peaceful time, relatively speaking, but even he should have expected the top of the hill to be lined with determined monsters with big rocks.

The first few moments of watching the boulders come down feels almost like Four is stuck in time. There’s nowhere to run, the expanse of the monsters at the top is too great. Left or right would bring more chances of being hit. They can’t run back down the hill and outrun the danger either. Their only option is to dodge through the rocks until they can get to the top and take out the danger.

Distantly, as time spreads up, Four is aware of Time and Wild each releasing arrows towards the top of the hill, igniting various monsters on fire, but soon it becomes pure chaos. He can only focus on himself as he does his best to jump out of the way of rocks that are much bigger than him. The colors in his brain scream as he tries to remain calm and collected. No Blue, he can’t just jump over the boulders because it will look cool. Red please calm down you’re screaming too loudly. He knows to go left, Green!

It’s a miracle he’s managed to last this long with the confusion. Which is why he’s not surprised when something finally hits its mark. He’s just glad that when the agony of a shattered bone shoots through his body, it’s only his right shoulder that took the brunt of the hit.

Not that he has time to be thankful for that. After the boulder hits into his side, his balance is knocked right out of him. He ends up crashing to the tilted floor in a jumble of limbs and dust. There’s tears in his eyes, and he can barely focus enough to lift himself back up. His entire arm feels like he’s stuck it into the mouth of a dragon—teeth and all. His chest feels tight and his hip all bruised. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’s broken a few ribs as well.

He barely has enough time to look ahead of him from where he lies on the ground. There’s another boulder bouncing right towards him. If… if he doesn’t move now… he will surely die.

But he cannot move. He cannot move because his entire side hurts too badly for him to go at a speed that matters. He closes his eyes and tries to make himself smaller. Maybe, if the goddess decides she likes him today, she will allow the boulder to bounce over him… or something as unlikely.

Either way, he accepts whatever fate he’s about to meet, even as he hears Sky scream his name.

And maybe it’s because he’s a coward and he’s scared, but he opens his eyes to look at his approaching doom. Only… that’s not all that he sees. What he sees is Wild jump out right in front of him with a ball of orange energy surrounding his entire body. A surge of horror swells inside of his belly the moment he sees this. Is Wild serious?!

Then, a heartbeat passes, and the boulder rams right into Wild. What happens next, though, Four would never have guessed. The orange energy explodes in shatters around him. Standing over Wild, however, is a ghostly Goron that’s bigger than anything Four’s ever seen. He shouts as the boulder stops in its tracks, crumbling before his mighty fists.

“I got you, little buddy,” Daruk’s spirit says. Then, the teal spirit disappears with the orange energy, leaving Wild standing there with the shattered remains of the boulder at his feet. Up the hill, Warriors, Legend, Time, and Sky take out the remaining monsters before they can release any more rocks.

Wild turns towards Four with a crazed, adrenaline fueled gaze. There’s a grin on his face though, one that Four finds himself matching.

Next thing he knows, Twilight, Hyrule, and Wild are rushing to his form and shoving various medicine bottles into his face; of which he takes gratefully.

“Thank you, Wild,” Four makes sure to say once he’s finally back on his feet with a makeshift sling over his only slightly aching arm. Wild turns towards him to give a blushing smile. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

“I couldn’t just watch you die. It’s the least I could do.”

Four hums. “I’m still thankful. Though… your Goron friend looked big enough to squish me between his fingers.”

Wild grins. “Daruk wouldn’t do that. It’s his hugs you have to watch out for.”

Four’s sure that if Daruk’s hugs are anything like Wild’s, then those hugs would be very tight indeed.

“I will take your word for it, then.”

-o-o-o-o-

“And then there’s Urbosa. She… if you think you’ve met a scary Gerudo, then you haven’t met her.” Wild waves his hands in the air, only slightly aware that he’s getting too invested in this story now. He didn't mean to spill his guts on his past friends tonight, but here he is, living their memory. Passing on their stories to his new friends. He finds he doesn’t mind it as much as he did several minutes ago. He doesn’t know why he was afraid. “She was the leader of her people, and she could summon lightning onto anyone who's ever defied her. She fought armies of Yiga all on her own and came out without a scratch. She’s blessed me with the ability to summon lighting as well. It’s my most powerful attack, and it’s saved my ass more times than I can count.”

-o-o-o-o-

This is bad. Very bad. Time can’t even properly express how bad this is.

An ambush of monsters? That’s manageable. He has confidence in himself and his companions to be able to handle a meager ambush. However, this? This is a whole army of monsters. Lizalfos, apparently, like to group up in camps when they’re not scrambling around in ancient dungeons and temples.

There’s enough to outnumber the heroes five-to-one. It’s not impossible to take them down if they had stuck to the outer edges of the camp and took a good portion of them out with long ranged attacks… however what happened was much less graceful. They walked into the forest, intending to make a camp for the night, just to wander right into a community of Lizalfos armed to the tails.

So now? They’re running; the monsters in an excited chase. Like Time said: This. Is. Bad.

“We lead them to the river,” Warriors suggests, ever thinking of solutions. “We can push them in and weaken their numbers.”

“I say we turn and fight!” Wind shouts. He looks too excited. He pulls a bomb out from his satchel and before Time can say anything, the boy turns around and throws it at their pursuers. There’s a blast, a few screeches, but nothing significant happens. The numbers are too great. Wind is pulling out another bomb.

“The river,” Time says, nodding at Warriors. Wind cheers as another explosion erupts. He leaves the boy to it. As long as he keeps up. “It’s the best bet.”

Time turns his head to tell the others about the makeshift plan, but before he can say a thing Wild looks him straight in the eye. “Have everyone get as far as you can away, I know what to do.”

“What?” Time asks, baffled.

Wild doesn’t explain. He just turns heel and runs the other way towards the enemy.

“Cub?!” Twilight shouts, turning around as well to grab his wayward protégé, but Time grabs his shoulder and keeps him running in the opposite direction. Twilight gives him a panicked look.

“I don’t know what he plans,” Time explains, “but he seems confident. Trust him.”

Twilight swallows and nods. Time shouts at the others to pick up the pace.

Behind him, the Lizalfos screech in delight, a sign they and Wild have now met face-to-face.

Whatever you’re about to do, wild one, do it now.

He doesn’t have to wait long. The smell of ozone becomes intoxicating all within a heartbeat. The hairs at the back of his neck rise as the sky goes impossibly dark for the time of dusk that it is. Then, light flashes all around him in thunderous claps. He can barely hear the sound of screaming monsters over the bolts. Time can’t help but stop in his tracks and turn, lifting a hand above his brow to see green lighting like he’s never seen before attacking the earth through the trees.

As soon as it begins, it ends, and the sky brightens with silence.

Time doesn’t waste time running forward. What he finds when he runs towards the small clearing Wild had met the monsters in is something he will never forget. Static energy seems to curl around his hand, raised into the air and on the end of a snap. Beside him stands a tall Gerudo woman, cloaked in a ghostly aura, her back towards the others and her hand on Wild’s shoulder in triumph and fierce protection. There’s nothing but black, charred corpses of monsters around them.

Time watches, as do the others, transfixed as Urbosa looks down at Wild and smirks.

“You should have called earlier, my desert flower.”

-o-o-o-o-

Everyone looks so transfixed, that Wild almost moves on without really thinking about it. Only… the words catch in his throat. He finishes telling of Urbosa, and just… freezes. His hands are back in his lap, wringing each other out.

He was so engrossed with his own stories that he’s forgotten that while he loves each of his past friends equally… not all are so easy to talk about.

The others must sense his inner struggle, as none of them call out his sudden silence. He knows that if he decided to stop now and not tell them of his last blessing… they would not argue. They must know this pause is similar to when Twilight stops talking about his adventure when he reaches the point where he meets a mysterious companion. Similar to when Time pauses in his magical tales of his childhood. Similar to when Sky looks off in the distance with his voice trailing off as he tells of special places in the sky.

It’s a pause of loss. A pause of something cherished. A pause of something that you fought so hard for, but will never come back.

A hand falls on top of his own. He recognizes the shape of Twilight’s calluses without having to look up at him. “You do not have to force yourself to continue,” he says.

Wild shakes his head. “I’m alright. I can continue…”

A beat of silence. Wild takes a breath.

“Last is… Mipha. Not only was she the most beautiful Zora I’ve ever met, but also the most beautiful soul. She… would always be there for me… whenever I got hurt. She could heal my wounds better than any potion. I…” his throat bobs, the words are no longer coming. “I cannot bring myself to tell of her gift. It’s too special. I pray I never have to use it again, nor must any of you witness it.”

-o-o-o-o-

Twilight didn’t know what to think when the attack had begun. It didn’t start with a shout. It didn’t start with the enemy running screaming out from the shadows of the trees with swords raised. It didn’t start like any kind of monster attack that Twilight had grown so used to.

It’s probably why they were unprepared for an attack by something smarter than monsters. Something that has no problem sitting quietly in the trees, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He’s heard that there’s a group of former Sheikah in Wild’s world who have it in for the hero’s life, he just never really expected to meet them.

That’s probably why the arrow met it’s mark too. They’ve all grown accustomed to the sloppy ambushes put together by monsters. It’s the only thing Twilight can think of to justify how none of them saw it coming until there was a thwip of a feathered arrow flying through the air… and landing with a thunk in Wild’s stomach.

Wild fell to the ground, and with a flash of cards and light appeared several Yiga Clan members. Nobody stopped to stare. It was pure rage from the heroes at that point, and as soon as it began the Clan members all put their hands together and retreated into seemingly thin air. It all ended about as soon as it began.

And the only thing he could think about now is Wild laying there on the ground in a growing pool of his own blood. The arrow still sticks out of his midsection, undoubtedly having hit something important judging by the trail of red going down the corners of his mouth.

Twilight is the first to run up to his side, but thanks to the quick thinking of Warriors, he’s not the first to offer a way of healing.

However, by the time the bottle of the red potion reaches his life stained lips… it’s too late. Twilight can only stare in horror as the light leaves Wild’s eyes.

The Yiga Clan… they’ve succeeded… and everyone knows it when Warriors falls backwards in defeat to sit on his heels, looking down at the full bottle of healing in his hands. Sky falls to his knees. Hyrule chokes a cry. Twilight's sure the rest of them are feeling their own reactions of grief, but he can no longer pay attention to anything but his own.

He’s… he’s failed. The one person he swore he would protect… pass on his ways… his stories… his teachings… it’s all for nothing. All it is now is a gaping hole in his heart. His cheeks are wet with tears that came too quickly.

Suddenly, something happens. There’s a flash of teal, and somewhere behind him someone gasps. Twilight can only watch with wide, tear-drowned eyes, as the teal swirls around into the glowing form of a beautiful Zora.

All eyes are on her, but hers are on Wild. There’s a fondness to her face that could be mistaken for sadness. Her hand brushes his cheek, and to Twilight's surprise Wild blinks and breathes in a soft breath. The hole in his stomach glows bright blue… and the arrow dissipates in shining bubbles.

“I will always heal you when you need me, my love.”

Then, she’s gone before anyone, including Wild, can respond.

Wild slowly raises himself to his elbows, blinking and smiling sheepishly like he’s never gotten even a scratch.

“I’m sorry you all had to-” he begins, but Twilight cuts him off by launching himself forward and wrapping the idiot in his arms. Mipha’s gift, the one he wouldn’t tell them about because it was too special, the one he never wanted them to witness…

He’s such an idiot.

“Shut up,” Twilight says through a tight breath. “Thank the spirits… just let me hold you.”

Wild doesn’t say anything, he just returns the embrace and the hold just as tightly.

Thank Hylia and all of the goddesses for this miracle. Wild clearly has friends that care so much about him that they would protect him fiercely even after their deaths. Twilight knows that from now on, he will spend his nights praying thankfulness to them. Wild is a formidable hero, one of the best in fact, yet Twilight can only imagine where he would be without these gifts. Imagining it makes his gut twist, however, so he squeezes his hold just once before letting go.

He smiles at the younger boy, and Wild smiles back, everything that needs to be said being translated there alone. You scared me. I’m sorry. Don’t apologize, just be more careful. No promises… but I will try.

The wordless conversation passes between them in a moment, and the moment is broken by Wind pouncing onto Wild. Wild, the poor boy, is shoved straight onto his back from the force of the tackle, yet he’s laughing as Wind calls him an idiot over and over. Everyone else gathers as well, to tell him they’re glad he’s alive in their own ways. Time places a hand on Twilight’s shoulder and shares a knowing look.

“Let’s set up camp early tonight,” he says, and Twilight cannot help but agree.

As Time announces the plan to the others, separating the others and telling them to give Wild some space, Twilight lets his heart calm. Wild always says he was alone in his adventures, but now he knows that that wasn’t all true. He also knows now why Wild doesn’t abuse the abilities his friends gave him.

With a silent vow, he promises Revali, Daruk, Urbosa, and Mipha that he will work harder to protect their boy. For now, Wild has been barred from making dinner tonight, and Twilight has to be sure that Hyrule gets nowhere near the cooking pot.

[isthisthingeven0n]

you’re still here : s.r

spencer watched you die in his arms, believing you were gone forever. but when he learns the truth that you’re alive in london, he can’t help but wonder why you’ve hidden away for so long. (2.4k)

all my links

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Salem, Oregon

“No, no, no Y/n, please,” Spencer pleads as he holds you close, his arms wrapped around you as your body becomes weaker by the passing second. “please don’t go,” His cries intensify as his arms shake, watching as your eyes begin to close. “no, please.”

“I’m sorry,” You manage to whisper as tears fall from Spencer’s eyes, the last sight you ever saw as your eyes closed, and your head fell back.

“No,” Spencer mutters, shaking you lightly. “no, you can’t be, no!” His cries turn to yells as Morgan approaches him slowly, resting his hand on Spencer’s shoulder as it shakes violently.

“Reid,” Morgan sighs, afraid to look down and see you lifeless in Spencer’s arms. “it’s over, I, I’m sorry.”

Looking over his shoulder, the rest of the team with solemn faces walk over and shield around Spencer whilst the police take care of Jason Lodgings; your murderer.

“Come on, Spence,” JJ speaks softly as she kneels beside Spencer as tears fill her eyes.

“I’m not leaving her.” Spencer states firmly, still not letting you go from his embrace.

“Reid,” Hotch calls out, his voice firm as he stands tall, watching as Lodgings walks away in handcuffs, glancing down with sorrow at the blood oozing from your cream jumper, dripping onto the wooden floorboards. “we have to go.” Hotch tells the team as they slowly rise to their feet, not wanting to start an argument with their superior.

Closing his eyes, Spencer releases a shaky breath as he gently lowers you to the ground. He pushes your hair out from your face and brushes his fingers across your cheek for the last time.

“Goodbye, Y/n.” Spencer whispers to you as he stands up and turns around, ignoring JJ’s open arms and walks out.

*

London, England - Two years later

It was always going to catch up with you, this life was a mere facade for your sake to have a sense of normality, but normality was never something you wanted.

Nearly two years had passed by since they last saw you. You hadn’t seen Garcia flirting with Morgan, heard JJ talk about Henry with such joy or avoided the stern looks Hotch shot over when you joked with Rossi and Emily for two years. But the one thing you’ve missed more than anything was seeing Spencer smile. You missed everything about Spencer, but seeing his smile brought a sense of indescribable joy.

This was never going to last forever, and you knew that coming into the situation. Hotch and Emily helped you figure out what to do, where to go in order to keep you safe. But keeping you safe meant everyone believing you were dead in the eyes of Jason Lodgings and his team, otherwise, they’d kill your team, your family off one by one just to get to you.

Having experienced the trauma from Emily’s ‘death’ you knew this wasn’t going to be easy on the team. You were lying in Spencer’s arms, close to death as you heard him cry for you. Every part of your body screamed to react, to tell him you’d see him again soon. If only you could have, just to provide him with some sense of relief in the long term. Yet if you did, it would’ve ruined the entire plan.

Wandering through Hyde Park, you knew he was close by. Maybe he had seen you already and was too afraid to believe it. The last time you spoke to anyone you knew was a year ago in Paris with Emily.

* Paris, France - One year Ago *

“How are they all?” You question as she sits down opposite you, files in hand as she places them on the table.

“They’re healing,” She answers, sliding the files across as you grab your bag, putting them inside without any hesitation. “it’ll get easier, but they’ll always miss you.” Emily sighs knowingly. “That contains everything you’ll need to get to London and set up a life there. But please, don’t trust anyone easily, Y/n.” She warns you as you nod.

Rising to your feet, you shrug your bag back onto your shoulder as you look down to one of your oldest friends for the last time. “Thank you, Emily.” You smile to her, wishing you could say more.

“Stay safe, okay?” She tells you, unable to form more words as thousands hover behind her lips. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

With a nod, you turn on your heels and walk down the street, not daring to look back as you’ve got to carry on.

*

Exhaling deeply, you bury your hands further into your coat pockets. Autumn was approaching as the Summer nights came to an end. You can’t help but kick through the piles of leaves that line the pathways as children giggle with their parents behind you.

“Did you know after June 21st, the Summer Solstice the sun’s direct rays will begin to shift southward from the Tropic of Cancer toward Earth’s equator?” You can’t help but tense as you hear his voice, filled with pain behind you. “As a result, the summer days become shorter, but that isn’t noticeable for a few weeks until late August when we near Fall.”

With a heavy heart, you begin to turn around and face the one person you owe the most to.

Your eyes remain locked on his feet, an old pair of sneakers lined with dried mud. Slowly, you raise your gaze past his trousers and toward the knitted sweatshirt vest, one you remember vividly even after all this time. As your eyes reach his shoulders, you can see his hair is long again and you can’t help but want to reach out and run your fingers through it like you once did.

“Hi,” You breathe out, unable to meet his scared gaze. “hi, Spencer.” You mutter, tearing apart the tissue in your left pocket as your nerves spread through your system, igniting undiscovered anxieties about this situation.

Spencer remains silent, taking in the sight before him. He never thought he’d see you again, the last time he saw you he held your lifeless body in his arms as he cried for you to stay with him. Yet you’re here, in London, alive.

“Do you wanna sit down?” You motion to the nearest vacant bench, and Spencer walks alongside you without saying a word.

Sitting down beside him, the gap between you feels too big. You’re used to the times of sitting together on the jet, resting your head on his shoulder and drifting off peacefully.

“Been up to much whilst here?” You ask, unsure what else to say. You can see out of the corner of your eye he’s looking straight ahead at the squirrels scaling the trees like buildings in the city.

“Why?” Spencer breaks his silence, his voice firm with you which takes you back by surprise.

“I,” You pause, lowering your head in defeat as you stare at the faint scar on your hand from the initial knife wound that Jason struck you with. “I had no choice.” You admit, hearing the gunfire as you blink away the memory.

“Everyone has a choice, Y/n, always.” He reminds you and just hearing him say your name causes your heart to drop. “You could’ve told us, we would’ve kept you safe, you know I,” Spencer pauses as he exhales his frustration. “we could’ve protected you.”

“I know, Spence,” You mutter, now turning to look up at him for the first time. “but I couldn’t do it, Hotch and Emily assured everyone would be safer this way.” You try to explain as you see the pain that lines his eyes, the heartache held in his gaze as he focuses on you.

He looks older, still sleep-deprived, but there’s a hint of happiness in the lines that surround his lips. A reassurance that he does have good days, the one thing you wished he'd have since you left.

“So you just left knowing we thought you died in my arms? Do you have any idea how I felt?” He’s angry, and rightfully so. “I, I thought I meant more to you than that, Y/n.” His anger subsides as his voice softens, his defences down.

You can’t help but reach out as you look at your hand on top of his, not daring to move it as you study his reaction.

“You’re the most important person to me, Spencer.” You reason, feeling his hand take a hold of yours, resting it in his palm as he curls his fingers over your hand, refusing to let go. “That’s why I had to let you believe I was gone, as Lodgings’ team would know, they’d always know and you would be in danger because of me.”

Spencer shakes his head. “We would’ve found a way, we, we,” He stumbles over his words as you squeeze his hand.

“You think me faking my death was plan A, Spence?” You chuckle, noticing a faint smile crossing his lips. “That was plan Z, actually version 3 plan Z if we’re being specific.”

“Did you ever plan on coming back?” Spencer quietly questions as his words linger around you for a moment as you slip your hand out from his.

“What did Emily tell you, Spence?” You ask, looking up at him as you hide your hands in your coat pockets, picking at the tissue once more.

“Besides the fact you’re alive and in London?” He nervously chortles, catching you rolling your eyes playfully. “She said you were doing okay, and that you were safe here.”

“I am, with Lodgings’ team having been sentenced, I’m no longer a target to them. My life is my own again, I can finally carry on living it.” Looking up, you watch as pigeons fly overhead, swarming down on the chunks of bread left for the swans. “But I made an agreement with Hotch, I’d stay away for at least three years. Three years to ensure my safety and for Lodgings’ team to be dismantled and dealt with.”

“Three years.” Spencer repeats, and you nod along. “You’re not planning on coming home, are you?” Your silence answers his question without you needing to respond. “I understand, Y/n. Three years is a long time to be gone from us all, and people change.” He reasons to himself more than to you. “I, we all thought you were gone, and finding out you’re alive I,” His voice trails off as he clenches his jaw, fighting his emotions that have been pent up for so long.

“Spence,” You mumble his name as tears fall from his eyes. “I want to come home, I do. I just don’t know if it’s home anymore.”

“Home is where the heart is.” Spencer comments.

“Elvis Presley.” You chuckle, lifting your hand up as you wipe away his tears, feeling him tense momentarily from your touch.

“Please don’t go, Y/n.” Spencer whispers as he lifts his hand up, resting it on top of yours as you cup his cheek. “I want to be selfish, I don’t want to lose you again if I don’t have to.”

Tears glaze your eyes as Spencer scans your face for any uncertainty. “Six months, Spence.” The words are barely audible for anyone passing by, but you know he heard you.

“One hundred and eighty-two point five days.” He nods as you lower your hand from his cheek, but he still keeps his on top of yours. “Then you’ll come home?”

“I can’t promise, Spence.” You know lying would be useless with him, you were never the most confident liar around him. “But before I go, I just want to tell you something.”

“Anything.” Spencer responds in a heartbeat, his entire body facing you now as you lower your gaze and take a steady breath.

“When you held me in your arms as I was,” Even after all this time, you still struggle saying the word. “well, fading, there was one thing I couldn’t help but think as you pleaded for me to stay.”

Spencer edges closer, your thighs touching as the previous gap between you both on the bench is gone. “What was it?”

“I wanted to tell you how much I care for you, how much I love you. And I wanted to thank you for being there for me through everything.” Your eyes remain locked on his as you pour your heart out to him, knowing if you don’t say it now, you never will. “But I didn’t have enough life in me to say all that then.” You nervously laugh. “So I thought I’d say it now, as it’s still true. You are a wonderful person Spencer Reid.”

A comfortable silence falls between you both as echoes of children's laughter surrounds you. And for the first time in years, you feel perfectly content.

“You know, Rossi once told me something,” Spencer speaks up, looking down at your hand as he brushes his thumb over the scar Jason caused. “scars show us where we have been, they do not dictate where we are going.”

“Wise words from a wise man.” You comment quietly as Spencer pauses.

“I know you have scars, Y/n. Externally and internally. But I’ll always be here, wherever you chose to be.” A small sweet smile lines Spencer’s lips as you focus on him, wishing there was so much more you could say. “And I’ll always love you, I’ll always miss you. But if I know you’re healing, then that is all that matters.” He lifts your hand up to his lips, kissing it softly before lowering it back to your lap, unaware of your heart-shattering in your chest.

“I’ll see you soon, Spence.” You tell him as he stands up, hands resting in his jacket pockets as he sways back and forth on his heels.

“One hundred and eighty-two point five days, Y/n.” He reminds you, and you can’t help but laugh and Spencer joins in too for a moment and everything feels okay again, just for a second. “I’ll be holding you to it.” He smiles to you one last time as he sees the glint in your eyes falter. “Bye Y/n.”

“Bye Spencer.” You wave to him as you turn around, walking down separate paths once more, unsure when you’ll next reunite.

[lilacmeadows]

Made For You pt. 2

Omg you guys thank you so much for all the support! Part 1 was my first fic and you guys were so sweet. I had to get started on part 2 right away. If you want to be on my taglist, just let me know! This is just leading up to the next few chapters that’s just gonna be FILTHY. I needed a bit of backstory to be satisfied, but now that the boring part is out of the way, I’m gonna go research other names for genitals. Hope you enjoy! -Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1    Part 2     Part 3

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

WORD COUNT:  2.9k

“Make the Soldat happy. He is my mission.” 

When she was first taken, of course she was scared. She didn’t know why, where she was going, if she’d be rescued. It was a painful adjustment, and some days it was as if the tears would never stop. It’s not like she was worth anything to anyone who mattered, her family wasn’t rich. Just her mom and brother. They lived a happy and normal life. 

She’d guess it didn’t really matter. At the age of 10, y/n was old enough to understand basic concepts, carry a conversation with adults, and she had strict teachers in school, so she knew how to behave. 

What she didn’t know was how to be a wife. Or a ‘life-partner’. None of the Men would ever call her a future ‘wife’. She was training to be a mate. Someone the Soldat could own and connect with so he didn’t fly off the rails if things got out of control. If he got out of their control. Every morning, a watcher would wake her up at 8AM so she could stretch, eat, and meditate. By 10AM, her first trainer of the day would come in and teach her the schooling she was missing. Just basic math and reading, a little German, and a little Russian. Not enough for her to eavesdrop on their plans, but enough to understand her Soldat if he didn’t feel like speaking English. 

At 1PM, another trainer would come and bring her to the small kitchenette down the hall. They had no intention of domesticating the ‘couple’, but she was learning to be a woman- of course the Men would have her start in the kitchen. She would learn very simple meals that could feed a fully grown man, and usually had something light for lunch herself. The men brought her the other 2 meals a day. At 3PM she would have lessons on ‘Womanhood’. At least that’s what she called it. A trainer would come in and teach her a never-ending list of rules that she had to follow in order to be a ‘lady’. It reminded her of an old Barbie movie she would watch when she was little. There was a song called ‘To Be a Princess’, where a poor girl learned how to act proper. Once she started seeing herself as that princess, the days got a little easier. Some days, they would go over how to sit and lie down like a lady. Others, they would walk laps around the halls open to her, reviewing how to walk on the balls of her feet. She learned to talk in short sentences with excellent manners, and how to brush her hair, so she could look more presentable for her Soldat. 

Over the years of compliance, the trainers softened on her just as the watchers had. Of course, they were still horrible people, but they knew she was a kind girl at heart and wouldn’t cause trouble. Some days, she would be made to sit perfectly still with a stack of books on her head, while her trainer would tell her something silly happening outside the walls of the building that became her home. She learned little bits of information about their lives, music, art. But never anything political or having to do with who the Men even worked for. That was strictly forbidden. They would let her color in her free time. Sometimes a watcher would bring a book from his home for her to read, and when she was old enough, she was given a few colors of yarn and started knitting sweaters and scarves on plastic needles. She didn’t have a clock, but she would learn by the rotating shifts of her watchers what time of day it was.

There were children whose lives sucked more than hers. And for that, she was grateful.

When she got older (let’s say 18), the training started to change. She never knew what day it was, or even what year. She had stopped keeping track so long ago, but the changes were made gradually. She would be made to read books on intimacy, and then watch videos of men brutally ravishing ladies about her size. She had to learn what to do to please her Soldat, without being taught physically. This made her happy. The thought of any of the watchers or trainers doing that to her made her sick. And everyone thought it was in her best interest to be completely innocent to the touch of a man when she has her first encounter with the Soldat.

Which turned out exactly as planned. But on the day Steve and Sam plucked her out of her bedroom, she was not expecting the Soldat to be sitting right in front of her. In all his glory.

The quinjet was eerily silent for all of seven seconds before Clint had the audacity to continue the conversation he started.

“You make the soldier happy?” was the best the shocked man could come up with.

“I haven’t met him yet, but I’m ready. They made me ready for him.” y/n said with bright, hopeful eyes. Her words flowed so easily, they sounded rehearsed.

“Do we tell her?” Tony asked Steve, who was getting greener by the second. He couldn’t believe he just got his best friend back, not two weeks ago, and now he has to worry about a girl who’s obsessed with said best friend.

“I don’t think we really have a choice.” Steve replied, taking a deep breath. The whole quinjet looked like they were holding their breath. y/n still didn’t know the names of the three men on the opposite side of the quinjet. Two of them standing together, pausing their conversation, and the brooding man, who everyone keeps looking at.

“y/n, meet Bucky.” Steve said, pointing at the man across from her. But ‘Bucky’ went completely over her head- the name being unfamiliar to her.

“Hello, sir. Pleased to meet you.” She said, offering a genuine smile, but clearly not picking up what Steve was putting down. Clint chimed in again, wanting to be out of his confused misery.

“Wait a second. Y/n. You mean the soldier, as in the Winter Soldier?” Y/n immediately nodded at hearing that name. She knew her Soldat went by that name. “As in that guy right there?” 

Her eyes went wide at the realization. He was sitting right in front of her. Staring at her since the minute she stepped onto the plane. And he was gorgeous. Long hair, thick thighs, piercing blue eyes, and a jaw that could probably cut glass. But he looked upset. Pissed really, and that scared her. She had one job: Make the Soldat happy. And there she was, barely presentable. She hadn’t even addressed him properly, how she was taught. With all the eyes on her, she felt a blush rush through her whole body at the embarrassing thought. But she had to. He wouldn’t like her if she didn’t follow the rules she grew up with.

Y/n daintily stood up and walked until she was right in front of Bucky. He held her eye contact the entire way, still not having said one word during this whole exchange. She gently knelt down until she was on her knees in front of him. 

“I hope I can make you happy, my Soldat. I am a gift from the Men who take care of us, and I am entirely yours.” Bucky’s jaw twitched. He hadn’t said anything this whole time, but his mind was moving at lightning speed. He watched this gorgeous, barely dressed girl sit across from him, and was already in awe. But then that girl got on her knees and declared her loyalty to him? In front of everyone he knows? He couldn’t lie to himself, he’d never been more turned on. But everything about this was wrong. She was just a Stockholm Syndrome’d girl who wanted to follow orders. But her orders were to make him happy. He finally broke eye contact with her to see Tony’s shocked face looking over at Bruce and Thor, to make sure he’s not hallucinating this. 

“Y/n, you should stand up.” He said to her in a hushed tone. Probably harsher than he meant to. He could see her visibly take a breath at the sound of his voice, his eyes followed the gentle slope of her neck down to her breast. She dreamed for years about what his voice would sound like, and it just rolled over her. But she quickly obeyed and stood in front of his seat. He expected her to say something else, but she was silent then. Her previous outburst was one of the few exceptions to her ‘only talk when spoken to’ rule. “What do you want? Where is your family so we can take you home?” He asked her. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes. He didn’t want her was all she could assume. She was made for him, so why was he turning her away?

“I want to make you happy, sir. It’s all I want. Please let me be good for you. I promise, I’ll be so good for you.” Begging was familiar to her from her studies. She didn’t expect to be begging for her to be able to please him, but she would do whatever it took to get him to keep her.

“No. Y/n. This isn’t right. You were being kept there, whatever Hydra told you to do is over. You’re free now.” The tears flowed freely down her cheeks and it broke his heart. She tried to cover her face with her hands. He didn’t want to see her cry, nor did he want to turn her away, but he also couldn’t just let her be his sex slave. It wasn’t right. 

“Please don’t be sad. This is for the best-” He tried to reason with her, but when he took her hand off her face so she would look at him, the contact only made her sob harder. This was all she wanted. 

“Buck, I think we should just let her sit for a minute. Can you grab her some water? Tony and I will try to figure out where she was from.” Steve said to Bucky- trying to end this painful and awkward situation. Bucky stood and walked to another area of the quinjet. He was grateful to be able to use this time to think.

“Y/n, we’re gonna need your help to get you home okay. What’s your last name? How old are you?” 

“Y/L/N” And then she went quiet. It never occurred to her that she didn’t know how old she was. Of course, she remembered her birthday, but she couldn’t tell the weeks and months apart, so she hadn’t celebrated it since she turned 10 in 2006. “What year is it?”

“When did they take you?” Steve asked gently. Being a man from another time, he could remember well the day he woke up in 2011 when it was supposed to be 1944. He knew how jarring it was to discover all the time that’s been lost, and wanted to spare her that grief.

“2006. I was 10.” She looked at him, and she could tell it’s not just 2008 by the look on his face. She knew her body went through changes over her time with the Men, but between the ‘dietary supplements’ they gave her, and the fact that she wasn’t looking in a mirror- much less shopping for clothes- she didn’t realize she had fully completed puberty. 

“Y/n, it’s 2016. You’re 20 now.” And that made the tears come harder. But she wasn’t so upset about the 10 years of her life. She was mad at 20 years of her life wasted. Since Bucky didn’t want her, all of the training was for nothing. She knew living for him made her the definition of a broken person- she wasn’t dumb. The idea of her Soldat was what grounded her all that time. When she was lonely, she’d think about the man the Men always tell her about. They told her how he was their ‘greatest asset’. And she often fantasized about if he would fall in love with her. So by the time she met him, she had already been in love with him for much longer than she’d care to admit- which makes the heartbreak of rejection hurt that much more.

Unfortunately for Bucky, his heart was heavy too. He tucked away into the tiny bed area on the jet after quickly handing Steve the water to give to y/n. It was too much. Being in that room with her, she looked at him like he hung the moon. But he most certainly had not. He was a murderer. Tony’s father was a scientist during the war, and Bucky knew him pretty well through Steve. And he killed him. He had scattered memories of hurting dozens of people, so why would she be so willing to be with someone like him?

Part of him wanted it. After almost a century of not owning anything and not having a choice, he was given the opportunity to have something that belonged only to him. A gift from the men who take care of us. If it wasn’t cruel, he would have laughed in her face. Maybe she was taken care of, but he most certainly wasn’t. She was brought in young enough to still be under the impression that Hydra wasn’t evil, just strict. He imagined for a minute how things could have turned out for the two of them if he hadn’t gotten free. If Hydra really was planning on giving him a gift. He didn’t like the last gift they gave him in the shape of an arm, but y/n was perfect. She was the perfect size for him- although his broad frame could dwarf most women. And her smile pulled at his heart.

He wanted to kiss her the minute he saw her. He knew he wanted to make her his.

And that was bad.

He rubbed his hand over his face and decided to rejoin the group in the middle of their conversation. Thor and Bruce decided to stop being passive members of the conversation and introduced themselves. Y/n was very confused at Thor’s proclamation as ‘God of Thunder’, but with all that was happening, she didn’t feel it was her place to question it.

“- a good thing we have spare rooms at the compound. You can stay as long as you like.” Tony finished speaking to y/n just as Bucky was walking into the room. “We’re gonna have a new house guest MC.” He waggled his eyebrows at the man who caught the back half of that conversation.

Bucky’s jaw dropped. This would only make the situation much harder than it needed to be. He looked to Steve for an explanation. The blond stood up and made his way over to Bucky.

“Look, Hydra scrubbed her records off of every database and-” He took a deep sigh, “Her family is dead, Buck. They probably killed them after they took her.” 

Then it was Bucky’s turn to sigh. He knew the right thing to do was to help her, but he also knew how much he wanted to feel her soft skin in his hands. And that made her dangerous to be around. 

What nobody knew was why Hydra took the 10 year old from Georgia. In 2006, the Winter Soldier was sent on a mission to kill a scientist that lived there. Of course the poor guy didn’t have a chance when the Soldier was sitting in his house, waiting for him when he got home, but what the Soldier wasn’t expecting was a little girl to be coming inside with him. The scientist looked sleazy and didn’t have any children, so who knows what would have happened to her if the Soldier didn’t get there in time. She screamed and cried. The comm in his ear commanded him to kill the girl for being a witness. But the part of the Soldier that was still Bucky wanted her to be safe. He shushed the little girl and asked her for her address. When she recited it to him, he rubbed her head and told her she was a good girl, before he dug his metal fingers into the child’s pressure points and she fell limp into his arms. y/n woke up in her bed, crying at the bad dream she must have had- her mother not even home yet. That was the first act of defiance Hydra ever experienced from the Winter Soldier. First sign of humanity and compassion. They knew if the mind control was getting weaker, he would be harder to control next time they unfroze him, but his protective nature of the girl would make her an asset to them.

Her capture was arranged before his heart was fully frozen in the chamber. Neither Bucky nor y/n remembered this- Bucky only remembering parts of his time under their control, and y/n never thinking about that bad dream again, but the connection was still there as strong as it was that day 10 years ago.

Part 3

[mrs-hollandstan]

hello! could you do an angsty fic based on the song yes to heaven by lana del rey where reader is pining after peter but he just doesn’t realize please?

This is actually really cute and I kinda dreaded writing it at first haha

If you dance, I'll dance

Peter was your best friend. Since kindergarten. You were there always, and you, like Ned (and now MJ) knew his deepest secret. And even though he knew you like the back of his hand, he didn't know your deepest secret. 

Tonight was Prom. The biggest night of your life, or what was supposed to be and maybe it would be, but you knew that you hadn't been asked to Prom by anyone which meant going "alone" even though you had a group of friends you'd be with, but you knew that he had asked her and that was somehow worse than not having a date yourself. 

You'd watched him go for Liz, and you supported him, and you were glad when she went away. You thought he'd remain your little, single, best friend, but then his attraction shifted to MJ and it was like a punch through your heart. You had been heart-eyes for him for so long and he never noticed and you knew that even if he did, it would never come to fruition because he was your best friend. You were his and that was a big no no. You could dream though right. 

And if you don't, I'll dance anyway

You had a beautiful dress and pretty heels and your hair and makeup were done to the best of your cousin's ability. You knew that you weren't ugly (you weren't the prettiest in school but who wants that, they're bitches anyways) and you knew that at least a few pairs of eyes would be on you. Even if those weren't Peter's, it'd be okay. You could fill that void with… Flash Thompson or something. 

You found the group near the back, Peter and MJ facing each other as they danced together, but not touching, and Ned makes a noise, drawing your eyes to him. Betty leans against him, 

"Wow Y/N, you look…"

"Killer." Betty finishes for him, admiring you just as much as her on-again, off-again boyfriend had. Damn, everyone really had someone huh?

"Oh yeah, you look nice Y/N." Peter speaks up in that overly innocent voice of his, eyes never leaving your face before he diverts his attention back to MJ who doesn't even give you a glance. When had he ever not called you by a nickname? Was that something he started doing when she showed up, calling you by your formal first name? 

Give peace a chance

You fall into the routine. Distracting yourself with the less obsessed with each other couples and the singles in your group, dancing and mingling, sipping punch and snacking on crackers and chips and dip. It was nice. For once you didn't feel like you had to distract yourself from them. It was natural. Grooving along as a few slow songs replace the upbeat ones you were grooving to and joining the loners on the benches brought back that overwhelming dull feeling you had whenever you watched Peter with his girlfriend. The way he swayed, arms wrapped around her waist, forehead pressed to hers. What it's like to be Ned and Betty, unphased by the fact that your best friend is so helplessly in love with someone else while all you can do is suffer in silence being in love with them. You swallow back the tears and the lump in your throat at the thought of Peter marrying her, having kids with her, and you being alone forever. You have to look away. Downing a few more glasses of punch, Betty and Ned strike up a conversation, letting you forget about the searing jealousy within you. And it's back to the dancing soon enough. 

Peter and MJ are comfortable enough that her back presses to his chest and he wraps his arms around her and they sway, singing together. Her smile is bright and so is his and it kills you. 

Let the fear you have fall away

She turns to him, a faint squeak sounding along the polished floor since she's worn tennis shoes and his smile widens when she says something to him. 

You've been in love with Peter since Kindergarten, you're pretty sure. He's always been adorable and of course you've always tried to chalk it down to him just being like a brother to you, but it's so much more. You've never realized how much you really do love him. He's been by your side, he's helped you through personal and work related issues, he's confided in you when it came down to Spider-Man and the emotional toll it was taking on him. He leaned on you and you let him, and you held back the tears until he couldn't hurt you or comfort you. He was oblivious and you seemed fine with it but if he knew, you knew he'd hate himself and he'd beg for your forgiveness, but he surely would never make you what she is to him. Their relationship is too powerful and he doesn't like you like that. It would never happen. Maybe it's because he's never had to save you. You've never put yourself in harm's way. 

I've got my eye on you

As you watch, with his strong arms wrapped around her, he leans in the same way she does and they kiss, so softly you can practically see how in love they are. You've never seen them kiss and you could really have gone without it. 

You glance away but the heartbreak is already setting in. Your breaths are short, chest tight, eyes stinging as you fight the tears. 

What hurts the most is that you'll never be her for him. He has someone he loves while you obsess over him. You have no one now, and he has everything he's ever wanted. Sure, you're happy for him, but it still kills you. 

Turning, Betty reaches out to hold your wrist, eyebrows knitting together at the look on your face, 

"Hey, what's the matter?" You shake your head,

"N-nothing. I need… I need fresh air." 

"I'll go with-"

"No!" The outburst draws all kinds of eyes to you including MJ's and Peter's, his eyebrows knitting together. Betty jumps as if she's been stung and her eyes widen just a little, Peter straightening up as a tear slides down the side of your nose, "I just… I need to be alone." 

I've got my eye on you

You dart away from the group, your heels clicking along the polished wood floor until you're pushing into the halls. The music is muffled behind the closed doors, allowing you to drop down to the floor and sob. The cracking in your chest is so damn painful. It feels like any moment, your heart will disconnect itself and leave your body to avoid the pain. 

The tears splash off the floor and you'd hate to see how your makeup looks but you don't think you're going back in there. You can't will yourself to convince people you're fine. Especially not your group of friends. As you're picking yourself up from the floor, the doors behind you burst open and Peter emerges, reaching out for your arm. He doesn't realize it when you pull it out of his reach, 

"What happened? Are you hurt?" You shake your head, brushing your tears from under your eyes, 

"I'm fine." 

"You don't really expect me to believe that do you? You're crying at prom, in the middle of the hallway." He states like its the most obvious thing. You swallow, 

"I just need air." 

"Okay… I'll go with you." 

"No, I need to be alone." 

"I've known you my whole life and I know you hate being alone." If he thinks he knows you so well, why doesn't he realize he's the one causing you so much pain? 

"There's a lot I don't like Peter." 

"What do you mean? Y/N, what's going on with you?" He asks. 

Say yes to heaven

Turning to him, you stare into those cool brown eyes, eyes that have always calmed you and you can't help it. Your lip quivers, 

"You don't always have to understand what's going on with Peter. I can handle myself." 

"You know I believe you, but you don't have to hide it. You can tell me anything. I'm your best friend and I would kill for you." If only that were true. I mean… you'd never wish death on her but… it'd be easier. It'd lessen your panic. You shake your head, 

"It's fine Peter. Just… go back inside." You turn to start away from him but he has so much that tells him your every move. Not only, as a normal human, can he read you like an open book, but with this new superhuman power thing, he senses when something is wrong. His face shows it, 

"I'm not leaving you. Especially with all that… suicide, drunk driving crazy crap going on that surrounds prom. You're storming out of there for no reason, crying and I… you shouldn't be alone." 

"Peter-" 

"No, talk to me! I'm your best friend and I am not going to let you die and have to tell your parents, your family, our friends that I didn't do anything to protect you." He yells. He really thinks this is a call for help, and it is, but not that way. You scoff, wondering how boys are so oblivious, glancing at him as you lean against the handrail behind you.

Say yes to me

"You really wanna know?" You ask him softly. He nods, moving in closer, 

"Of course. I hate seeing you in so much pain." He tells you. Your smile is sinister because he's so damn stupid. Closing your eyes and rubbing a hand across your face, you sigh, 

"I like you." Is all you state at first. He frowns, eyes glancing down at the floor. He's confused because he likes you too but he would never think you like him that way unless it was directly stated, "I've liked you since we were kids. And yeah, I'm so, so, so happy for you for having a girlfriend that loves you and you love her, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt for me. You'll never love me like that and that's fine but… I can't just watch you guys be in love. It fucking kills me." You explain to him. His mouth hangs open in shock and you cross your arms, 

"I can't pretend to be fine around you guys. You and Ned got girlfriends and all and yeah, maybe I could get a boyfriend and it would hurt less but you know I love your personality and I always have and I don't know that anyone will ever come close to that. So now I'm alone and I'm not going to take you from her to pity me so I don't really… have a best friend anymore. If I want to be around you I guess I can just come find you and be a third wheel." You tell him. 

Say yes to heaven

You watch his eyes change. He's panicking a little, 

"Are you saying… you don't wanna be friends anymore?" 

"It's not that we can't, it's that I… I don't know if I have it in me to put up this facade. I'm not telling you to give her up, I'm just saying… I think… now that we're about to split up for college… maybe it's time to start doing it now. I- it hurts too bad and I just… I can't." 

"Y/N, please don't do this. You've been my best friend for decades. Why can't we just… I mean… I can figure out how to split my time between the two of you." 

"No you can't. That's not fair to her and I'm not going to do that to you two. It's just better if I move on. I'll probably go to California for college anyways. It's for the best to separate ourselves now." You conclude. You don't know what will hurt worse, but after a while, you'll hurt less moving on without him. He takes another step forward, 

"Y/N, c'mon, you can't do this." 

"I won't ruin your life and I won't hurt myself because I have a selfish little crush on you I would've never acted on." You tell him. You stand and stare at each other before you stand and brush your tears from beneath your eyes, sighing,

"You're destined for greatness Peter Parker and it would've happened eventually. Now just gives me a reason to start." You tell him, voice shaky. His face softens, 

"I don't wanna lose you." He says, his voice just as shaky. You shrug, crossing your arms and preparing yourself to walk away from your best friend for the last time. You sigh, 

"I'm not going back in there. This is kinda… it. I have to go home."

"At least let me take you." 

Say yes to me

"No! You have a girlfriend in there and I'm not going to let you! Goddammit Peter, I have to get away from you, don't you get that? I can't be what I need to and it hurts too much. Just… fuck off." The look on his face is pure pain. He hates that you're abandoning him. And maybe you should be forced to settle as just his friend, but you can't. You can't sit back and watch them be happy together. The pain is unbearable. They're better off without you and your selfish jealousy. He's better off without you, 

"Y/N, don't do this. You're just as important as MJ, I can't go without talking to you. Please." You hold up a hand as he nears you again. You stare into each other's eyes, tears in both sets. You shake your head, 

"I'll never be more to you than her. Maybe when we were kids but… we're different now." 

"Y/N-" You shake your head again, swallowing the lump. You know he feels the same way you do. The pure dread of giving up your best friend because the love you feel for him is just too strong, "please." He whispers. It breaks your heart further as you meet his eyes again and sniffle, 

"Goodbye Peter." You say. And you turn your back, and walk away from your ex-best friend. And it stings. But hopefully it will keep your heart in your body staying away from him. God you hope so.