#but as long as im living with my parents this is how it is. and im very nice and helpful with it also.

[reidsmanuscript]

Meet the Minds

Summary: 4 years after that one time in a bar, on how your character Criminal Minds was born, and maybe how something else was also borned. Pairing: mgg x actress!reader Genre: friends to lovers?, fluff, mutual pinning TW: Public Scrutiny/Fame, reader has severally parents issues, plus they are passive aggressive but it's short i swear, brief mention of cheating, mgg takes a minute to appear i know im sorry, long introduction wc: 3.7k! A/N: hopefully someone will understand what I'm aiming for with both of my dear !readers, this is with the solely purpose to treat myself i fear Masterlist!

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Since that one time in a bar it has been 4 years. Your show City Lights has gotten big. And when you say big, it was BIG, and so did you.

You were wrapping up the third season of the show, with a renewed contract for the next season in hand and a few promising movie proposals. In the past four years, you and your friends have become famous. Not A-list famous, but enough that if any of you went out, someone would recognize you, or a few paparazzi might follow your every move.

The four of you had lived in the same apartment in New York ever since filming started on location. HBO wanted your friendship to feel authentic for the cameras, and boy, were you grateful for that… because they had become your true best friends—not just on TV, but in real life.

It was Ashley, Jack and Nathan. Something that always happens when you start a show and it gets views it’s that the whole crew becomes a big family. In the middle of the second season, you finally mustered the courage to ask the showrunner, Jeff Davis, if you could join the writers' table to pitch some ideas for your character. He agreed, and since then, some of the best storylines on the show had come from your contributions.

The thing was, your name brought in big numbers, and it had caught the attention of producers and showrunners alike. Criminal Minds had premiered a year ago, gained some traction, but they wanted to take it to the next level. So Jeff, the same creator of your show, called you and your agent to see if you could join the cast.

There were two problems. First, your schedule was already packed. Moving to L.A. for the shoot wasn’t an option—City Lights had you locked in for the fourth season, and there was a possibility you'd land the lead in a promising film. On top of that, you were still taking college classes from a foreign university at your parents' insistence. So, being a recurring character was out of the question.

Second, when they handed you the script, you hated the character. They wanted you to be the fan favorite, Spencer Reid’s love interest, and while you had no problem with that, the character itself didn’t sit right with you. She was this sweet, innocent woman, one who was a victim from one unsub, and Spencer, an addict, would find redemption through her. He’d get sober and everything would be perfectly happy. You thought it was dull.

For starters, you knew how controversial it would be for her to become his personal recovery center, but you also saw the potential in the character. So, you asked if you could rewrite her into something more dynamic, something with more depth. Given the trust Jeff had in you, he gave you free rein to make the changes.

“How’s it going?” Jack, one of your best friends and a Criminal Minds fan, asked, entering the living room.

“A surprisingly moving amount of absolute nothing,” you said jokingly, staring at the blank space.

“Oh, come on, dude! We’ve watched some of the episodes together! You know the vibe,” he said, sitting down on the couch beside you.

“Well, I know the vibe, I just don’t know how to write it.” you said throwing your hands to the air in a comically exasperated way.

“Well, I know the vibe, I just don’t know how to write it,” you said, dramatically throwing your hands in the air, exasperated.

“Guess who’s gone viral again!” Nathan breezed into the room, flashing you a grin. He played your love interest on City Lights, and the fans went wild for your on-screen chemistry. But the truth was, you two were nothing more than really good friends. There was no romance, just a strong, platonic bond.

“Ugh... please tell me it’s for the right reasons.” You shut your eyes and let your head flop back against the couch.

Nathan tossed you his phone, then leaned casually on the backrest of the couch, Jack scooting closer to get a better look.

“What is it? Another red sauce scandal?” you asked, scrunching your nose at the thought.

Let me tell you something: becoming famous at 17 or 18 leaves you with a digital footprint that you'll wish you could erase by the time you’re 23.

He handed you his phone, showing a new release from Austin, your ex-boyfriend. The song title was painfully obvious—"Still Stuck on You." The lyrics left no room for interpretation, and the message hit you like a ton of bricks. Austin had written another song about you, and this time, he made it clear.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me! This is like the third one this year!” Your mouth hung open in disbelief as Jack, who had burst out laughing, took the phone from your hands and started scrolling through the Twitter comments.

He had been your “boyfriend” four years ago, but only for PR purposes. When you found out he’d cheated, you broke up with him. He begged and cried, and it was pathetic. Since then, Austin had turned your brief relationship into his whole persona. He released songs that were painfully obvious about you, dated women who looked eerily like you, and spent interviews throwing shade, spreading lies, all for attention. The problem? You were skyrocketing, gaining fame in ways he could never have predicted, and he—well, he was still stuck on you.

Your phone started ringing somewhere around the apartment, a FaceTime call vibrating through the cushions. You rummaged through the pillows on the couch, cursing under your breath as you came up empty.

“Seriously, how do you always lose it?” Nathan said, appearing behind you with a smirk. He found your phone wedged between the couch cushions and handed it to you just as you answered the call. As he did, you reached into your back pocket, pulling out a dollar bill and placing it in his open hand.

See, you had a special talent for losing your phone around the house, and your friends turned it into a game. Every time you misplaced it and one of them found it, you owed them a dollar.

“Bitch have you seen it?!” Ashley squealed from your phone, her voice laced with urgency. 

“It's like jumpscare! you know it’s coming but it’s always surprisingly disappointing!” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“Somebody said, ‘Are you writing a memoir or just trying to hit the ‘most dramatic ex’ award this year?’” You all chuckled at Jack’s reading.

“Gotta go, some stylist is calling me. Love ya, bye!” Ashley hung up quickly, going back to her photoshoot, leaving you to shake your head and wish her good luck.

Jack kept giggling at the comments, lost in the chaos of Austin’s latest stunt. Meanwhile, you stared blankly at your screen, the cursor blinking mockingly back at you.

Nathan gave you a playful shove. “You know what’s really offensive? The tempo on that track. It’s like he’s trying to be edgy but doesn’t understand how syncopation works.”

“Hmm, well, what else could you expect? Maybe you should make your own song about it, something with a real sense of rhythm,” You said absently, still staring at the screen, the cursor blinking in a never-ending challenge.

“And you should start writing that, maybe throw in a little revenge of your own,” he said, nudging his chin toward the computer screen with a grin. You frowned at him, your gaze drifting back to the cursor as you considered his words.

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You were studying—actually studying—sitting in the mini studio with notes scattered in front of you, calculator by your side, silently frustrated as you tried to make sense of the numbers. Ashley was on the other side of the desk in front of you, pacing and memorizing her lines, back and forth, her voice echoing in the room. Your grip tightened on your pencil, eyes flicking over the work in front of you, when your phone buzzed. Another message.

"We’ve heard about your 'plans,' but it’s hard to take them seriously when you can’t commit. It’s cute to 'explore options,' but at some point, you’ll have to stop playing around and think about your future. Don’t you want to be taken seriously?"

Maybe it was the sound of your phone tapping against the wood of the table, or the way your hand instinctively went to your eyes, trying to stop the threatening tears, that tipped Ashley off. She paused, looking up from her lines, eyes narrowing as she caught the shift in your mood, as she made it to your way, reading the message still open on your phone that had already sunk in, the familiar sting. 

Ashley didn’t hesitate. She pulled you into a hug, still standing while you were sat, one arm wrapping around your shoulders tightly as she murmured, "Fuck them. Seriously. You don’t need their crap." She squeezed you harder, as if to prove the point. "You're better than any of that. Don’t let their bullshit get to you." Her voice was fierce, a protective edge in every word.

The relationship with your parents was complicated, to say the least. You'd tried to make them proud, but it was never enough. Now, more than ever, you’d rebel when you chose to become an actress. It felt ridiculous—like you were still studying against your will, trying to prove something you didn’t even want to.

"I mean, what the fuck will it take for them to take me seriously? A fucking Oscar? Have some damn patience—I’m working on it," you spat, voice shaky, leaning into Ashley as tears threatened to spill.

She sighed, pulling you in a little tighter. “Fuck them,” she muttered, her voice low but firm. “They don’t get it, and honestly, they probably never will. But you’ve got this. You’re doing something they can’t even begin to understand. Don’t let their bullshit get to you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Well, at least it wasn’t a call. I swear it’s pathetic how every time I get mad, I just cry.”

Ashley pulled you into a tight hug, her voice soft but firm. “Forget about them for a second, okay? You don’t need to study right now. You’ve been working your ass off. Take a break. You’re allowed to feel pissed off without worrying about your grades for a few minutes.” She pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. “You’re doing your best, and that’s all that matters.”

With a last shaky breath and wiping away the tears that had escaped, you nodded. Ashley sighed, her voice soft but firm. “Hey, enough with the studying for now. You’ve been pushing yourself way too hard. Wanna get cute and go out for some coffee?” She gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You deserve a break.”

You chuckled, truly this time, and shook your head. "Maybe later. You finish with your lines, and I’ll… go grab some snacks," she nodded, giving you a smile, picking up the forgotten script.

You were still shaken, even frustrated at how powerless you felt around your parents, and how you reacted to your feelings. You cried, and sometimes words became hard to find. You wished you could scream and destroy everything, just let it all out, like those female rage characters, but for now, you were left in silence.

Which gave you an idea.

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That’s how you ended up creating your character—in a fully cathartic, all-nighter frenzy, shaping her with layers of meaning. Like her nickname, “Woody,” a nod to Nathan’s favorite movie, Toy Story—a little inside joke, a quiet way of taking revenge in your own way.

She was everything you weren’t, and at the same time, everything you were.

And then there was her best friend, Austin—played by Jack, of course, since he was a huge fan of the show—who you took every opportunity to be mean to, just for the fun of it.

You’d never admit it, but the line “Austin is not my boyfriend”? Yeah, that had a little extra bite to it. A double meaning, if you will.

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The producers loved it. The depth of your character, how dark her storyline was. Because if you really want to keep the audience engaged? Give them two characters who are absolutely perfect for each other—but can’t be together.

And when the idea of adding Jack came up, they agreed immediately. What’s better than one City Lights star joining the show? Two City Lights stars.

But they had asked you to keep the secret from everyone, including the current cast. Who you'll be meeting and revealing your characters to in the table reading 

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Jack and you were currently at ABC’s costume department, standing in front of a mirror while the costume designer and a wardrobe assistant made final adjustments to your outfits.

“Man, I’m boiling in here,” you groaned, peeling off the red shirt as the wardrobe assistant jotted down notes about the fit. 

Jack, meanwhile, admired himself in the mirror, dramatically flipping back the leather jacket he was trying on. “Do I look tough? Like, would you trust me with your deepest, darkest secret?” He smirked, striking a pose straight out of an action movie.

The costume designer, pinning a hem on your sleeve, barely glanced up. “You look like an extra in a bad '90s biker film.”

“You look like you're about to challenge a middle schooler to a dance battle,” you added, crossing your arms.

Jack gasped, clutching his chest. “Wow. Zero faith in me.”

“More like zero intimidation factor” You said from the changing room, a few moments later, you stepped out  wearing a white shirt and black vest, and flashed Jack a playful grin. “So, do I finally look like the child my parents can brag about?” you joked, adjusting the vest slightly.

The wardrobe assistant shot you a thumbs up, clearly impressed with the fit.

“Are you maxing out someone's card again?” A voice asked behind you. 

You turned around to see Matthew grinning. You chuckled, scrambling for a response. “Well… I’m not legally allowed to talk about it,” you said, cringing internally.

Man, you were awkward without alcohol in your veins.

He chuckled, stepping closer to pull you into a brief hug in greeting. You’d already worked together on The Beauty Inside, so the familiarity was there—comfortable, easy, playful even.

“So what are you doing here?” He asked.

“Ummm well..” You turned to Jack with panic in your eyes. Jack, ever the performer, didn’t miss a beat. “We’re actually here to stage a heist. High-stakes, top secret.” He waggled his eyebrows.

You groaned, shoving his shoulder. “We’re doing costume fittings.”

Matthew raised a brow, clearly amused. “Costume fittings, huh?” His gaze flickered to the wardrobe racks surrounding you. “For something unannounced?”

You hesitated, your lips pressing into a thin line. “I plead the fifth.”

Jack threw an arm around your shoulders. “She’s under strict secrecy orders, but between us?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “It 's big.”

“Jaaack,” you warned, dragging out the 'a' in a clear sign for him to be careful.

“Well, if you’re in it, I bet it is,” he said, smirking at you.

You chuckled, clearing your throat. “Soo, what are you doing here?”

“Well, this is kinda where I work,” he said with a shrug teasing. Right. This was where the cast of Criminal Minds did their fittings, although the producers had made sure you were not scheduled together to avoid leaks.

You raised an eyebrow, looking around the room. "Here? In the costume department?"

He grinned, clearly enjoying your confusion. "Yep, I mean, what else would I be doing here? Getting my wardrobe ready for my big role?" he added, his tone mock-serious. “What are you supposed to be, by the way? A real estate agent? I bet you’re just one property listing away from a deal of the century,” he said, eyeing your clothes.

You chuckled again. “No, um… I’m actually a very boring banker,” you said, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much. Like get a hold of yourself girlie, he’s just a tall, handsome man, with nice hair and curls and pretty eyes, and gentle. Somebody, hand me a glass of water, or wine, whichever is easier.

The costume designer called your name, already holding more clothes in her hands. "We need to finish these adjustments, sweetheart."

You nodded, trying to shake off the distraction. "Right, I’ll be right there."

Matthew smirked, taking it as his cue to leave. "I guess I'll let you continue. Good luck being a banker," he teased, giving you one last look.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "Thanks, Matthew," you said, turning toward the designer as he walked off.

Jack, who had been quietly observing from the corner, chimed in with a grin. "Yeah, because nothing says ‘big role’ like a banker in slacks."

You shot him a playful glare. "Oh shut up, Johnny Bravo," you joked, laughing as he dramatically posed in response.

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The producers stood at the front of the room, their eyes scanning the assembled cast. There was a buzz in the air—everyone was settling in, ready for the read-through to begin. After a quick round of hellos and some introductions, one of the producers, a tall woman with a clipboard, stood up to speak.

“Alright, everyone, before we dive in, we have a very exciting addition to the cast today. You’re about to meet someone who is going to bring a lot of depth and intensity to the world of Criminal Minds.” The showrunner smiled at you, saying your names and introducing the new character you’d be bringing to life.

Jack, sitting beside you, was doing his best to keep his cool, but the way he gripped his script gave him away. His knuckles were turning white from how tightly he held the pages, and you couldn’t help but smirk. Leaning toward him, you whispered, “That’s not bubble wrap.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and he whisper-shouted, “That’s Mandy Patinkin sitting right there. Do you have any idea how my mom would react if she were here?”

You chuckled under your breath, keeping your eyes on the table. Across from you, Matthew sat diagonally, flipping through the script with a furrowed brow. When he glanced up, he shot you a mock-offended look and mouthed, “Liar.”

You choked back a laugh, quickly mouthing “Sorry” with a small shrug just as the producers began reading.

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The reading session had concluded, and you were chatting with Paget about how much you had loved her in Friends. Meanwhile, Jack was across the room, subtly—well, not so subtly—trying to get an autograph from Mandy.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Matthew making his way toward you, but pretended not to notice, keeping your attention on Paget. You had a feeling he was about to make some kind of remark, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of expecting it.

“You should be careful with her, she lied to me and told me she was going to be some boring banker,” he finally said, warning Paget with a smirk, 

You turned to him with an unimpressed look. “I’ll take that as I’m good at my job”

Paget raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the exchange. “Oh, so she tricked you? That’s embarrassing, Gubler.”

Matthew placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. “I was misled! Deceived! Here I was, thinking I had met a perfectly normal, unassuming banker, only to find out she’s infiltrating our world.”

She laughed and patted his shoulder before the showrunner called her, leaving you alone with him.

“Nice shoes, by the way,” he said, looking down at your mismatched Converse—one deep red and the other black, matching your red top.

You chuckled. “Thanks. People keep making fun of me on the internet, saying I must've rushed out of the house.”

He laughed and pulled up his pants, revealing his mismatched socks—one purple with yellow dots and the other blue with bananas. “Well, that’s because they’re boring.”

“Oh God, they’re so cool,” you genuinely liked how bizarre they were.

“Hey, I saw your name on the last page of the credits... Did you write those episodes?” he asked, kind of amazed.

“Well, I um... added some minor stuff, really,” you said, lying a little. “Just to make her more sarcastic and fun… like, I can’t wait to get covered in blood for the shots.”

He laughed just as Jack reappeared, clutching his freshly signed Mandy Patinkin autograph like it was the Holy Grail. “I blacked out for half of that conversation, but I think I played it cool.”

“Yeah, sure, if you say so.” You were about to say something more when a producer called for both of you.

With an apologetic smile, you said goodbye to Matthew, but before you turned around, he called out, “Can I get your number this time, or do I have to wish we get cast together again?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you handed him your number. “I guess I’ll wait for your call.”

“You better pick up. There are some scenes I think will need some rehearsal.” His words made your stomach flip, and a flush crept up your face.

Pressing your lips together to stop yourself from smiling too much, you retorted, “You better be quick. My schedule is full.” That made him chuckle.

The producer called for you again, and you made your way toward him and Jack, still feeling the warmth of the moment lingering. You once promised yourself to not-date-coworkers. Maybe if those coworkers weren’t so funny and handsome you wouldn’t reconsider your own words.

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If you want to find out more about the CM character click here!

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[heartsriki]

BERRY FIRST LOVE⌇딸기

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader — featuring.. sunghoon, jay, jake & sunoo | word count: 8.2k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ highschool to adulthood au!, childhood friends to lovers, time skip, small-town romance, drinking, misunderstandings, fluff, mild angst, slow burn (?), lots of bickering, ni-ki is pushy at some points, reader is evasive asf, passing out from alcohol, wrote this with blonde riki in mind, slice of life.

synopsis — returning to her small hometown for the summer, reader finds herself tangled in old memories, old friends, and the chaos of her first love. with familiar faces and unexpected moments, she’s forced to confront feelings she thought she left behind. as the days pass, she realizes that some things—and some people—are harder to walk away from than she thought.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Someone please compliment my title <3 also this took so long to write so if you love me reblog, ANYWAY ERMMM I KINDA COOKED IM NGL. I love this story so bad and I hope you guys like it too! As promised a fluffy jw fic is next bc if you all read my last fic.. WHEW IM SORRY. Anyways enjoy!

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the world in warm golds and soft pinks. The air smelled sweet—like earth and ripe strawberries, warmed by the afternoon heat. Your fingers were already stained red, a basket half-filled with berries swinging at your side as you wandered between the rows of green vines.

It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon. Just you, the rustling leaves, and the occasional chirp of a bird overhead. But then—

Thud.

Something, or rather, someone, tumbled into the bushes just a few feet away, rustling through the leaves in a flurry of limbs and laughter. You blinked, stepping forward cautiously.

A boy, maybe your age, sat up, rubbing his knee where he had clearly tripped. His dark hair stuck up in messy tufts, and his cheeks were flushed—not from embarrassment, but from the sheer amusement of whatever had just happened. His eyes found yours, wide and bright.

“You saw that?” he grinned, brushing dirt off his shorts.

You nodded slowly. “You fell.”

“I dived,” he corrected, puffing his chest out. “I was trying to catch the biggest strawberry I’ve ever seen. It was this big—” He stretched his hands out dramatically before glancing down at the ground. “And now it’s… gone.”

You followed his gaze and spotted a squished red mess near his foot. You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t think you caught it.”

The boy laughed, a sound that was light and free, like the breeze that carried the scent of strawberries through the air. “Guess not. My name is Riki… Nishimura Riki,” he announced, as if to cover up his failed strawberry mission. “You?”

“Y/N,” you answered, still watching him warily.

Riki wiped his sticky hands on his shorts and grinned. “Cool, Y/N. Wanna race to see who can pick the most strawberries?”

You glanced down at your half-filled basket, then at Riki’s empty hands. You smirked. “I think I already won.”

Riki gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “No way! I was just getting started! Let’s go—starting now!”

And before you could protest, he was already darting down the row, reaching for the nearest strawberry with wild determination.

Laughing, you took off after him, the sun dipping lower as their laughter filled the strawberry field.

It was the start of something sweet.

From that day on, Riki was everywhere you were.

He lived a few blocks down, close enough that he’d show up on your front porch without warning, dragging you outside for another adventure. Summers were spent racing bikes down the quiet streets, climbing trees at the edge of town, and daring each other to jump into the cold lake even when your parents warned them not to.

The strawberry field became your place. Every summer, you guys would return to it, competing to see who could find the ripest berries, sneaking handfuls into your mouths until your fingers and lips were stained red. It didn’t matter how many times you won—Riki never stopped challenging you.

“One day, I’m gonna beat you,” he swore, lying back in the grass after another loss.

“Keep dreaming, Nishimura.” You grinned, tossing a berry at him.

By middle school, things started to shift in small, unspoken ways.

Riki grew taller—a lot taller. He was all long limbs and endless energy, forever restless, always moving. You, on the other hand, started noticing things you hadn’t before—like how his hair always stuck up in the mornings when he’d rush to meet you for the bus, or how his laugh had gotten deeper, even though it was still just as contagious.

But some things never changed.

“Hold still,” you scolded, balancing on the tips of your toes as you tried to fix his tie before your first school dance.

Riki groaned. “I don’t know why I have to wear this thing. It’s choking me.”

“Because your mom made you, and my mom made me help.” You finished knotting it properly, stepping back with a satisfied smirk. “There. Now you look slightly less like a mess.”

He huffed but grinned. “Still don’t see why you’re not my date.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder. “Because that would be weird, dummy.”

And just like that, he was dragging you toward the gym, where the music was too loud, and neither of you really knew how to dance—but you both still had fun, laughing at your own awkwardness until the night was over.

As you both grew, Riki was one of the most well-known guys in town. He was the kind of person who could charm anyone—teachers, classmates, even the grumpy dude named Heeseung who ran the corner store. He was still the same Riki who tripped over his own feet and made ridiculous bets, but he was also different. More confident. More effortlessly cool.

The small town never changed. Not really. The roads got repaved, a few new families moved in, and the old diner got a fresh coat of paint, but the feeling stayed the same. Safe. Predictable.

But you?

You started changing little by little.

At first, it was subtle. The new people moving in brought different ideas, different ways of seeing the world. You overheard conversations at the diner about places far beyond your quiet town—cities with endless lights, beaches that stretched for miles, streets so busy you could disappear into the crowd.

And you got curious. Too curious.

You wanted to see more, do more, feel more.

One night, sprawled out on Riki’s bed, playing a game on your phone while he worked at his desk, the words left your mouth before you even realized you were thinking them.

“Do you ever think about getting out of here?”

Riki turned around, raising an eyebrow. “Where is this coming from?”

You blinked, pausing your game. Sitting up, you met his gaze. “I don’t know, don’t you feel stuck here? Like… there’s more for you than just this?”

Riki tilted his head, considering the question. Then, with a shrug, he turned back to his desk. “No, not really. I like it here.”

That was it. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just a simple, final answer.

You nodded, flopping back down onto the bed. Maybe you were the weird one. Maybe wanting something more meant you didn’t appreciate what you already had.

After that, you pushed the thought down. You didn’t bring it up again.

Until high school.

By the time senior year rolled around, that buried thought had grown into something impossible to ignore.

You spent more time watching the people who had left—following old classmates’ social media accounts, seeing them post pictures from college dorms, busy city streets, concerts where the air felt electric even through a screen.

And then there was Riki.

Riki, who still loved this town, who had no plans of leaving. Riki, who fit here so well—who had the same easy friendships, the same carefree laughter, the same ability to make this place feel enough.

He hadn’t changed. But you had.

And that terrified you.

One evening, back in the strawberry field, you finally let the words slip again.

“Im leaving this town.”

Riki, lying back in the grass beside you, didn’t answer right away. He plucked a strawberry from the vine, rolling it between his fingers. “Where?”

“Anywhere,” you exhaled. “Everywhere. Just… somewhere new.”

This time, he didn’t push you to stay nor did he try to change your mind.

Instead, he looked at you for a long moment before popping the strawberry into his mouth. “Then go.”

Your stomach twisted. “Just like that?”

He looked at you, but there was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite place. “Nothings keeping you here, Right?”

You wanted to believe it was that simple. That you could leave. But leaving means leaving him. After all this time you ignored one thing. How much Riki meant to you.

Deep down, you knew there was a deeper meaning to that.

The seasons were shifting and senior year was coming to an end.

After that conversation in the strawberry field, Riki became distant. Not completely gone, but different. The easy conversations, the playful teasing—it all started to fade. He still talked to you, but not like before. You figured he just needed time to process the idea of you leaving.

Maybe a lot of time.

One afternoon, as you walked through the school hallway, you found yourself scanning the crowd for him. He hadn’t been around much lately, and for some reason, the growing absence made your chest feel tight. It was stupid. He was just a friend, wasn’t he?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a light tap on your shoulder.

Turning around, you were met with a girl you barely knew, smiling shyly.

“Hey… weird question but are you and Riki dating by chance?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What? No. Why?”

The girl tilted her head. “That’s weird. I heard from Jake that he was planning to ask you out.”

Your breath caught. What?

She must’ve seen the confusion written all over your face because she gave a small nod, lips parting in realization. “He’s liked you for the longest time. Didn’t you know?”

You stared at her, mind suddenly blank.

Riki… liked you?

That didn’t make sense. Did it?

But then—flashes of memories. The clumsy little boy with messy brown hair in the strawberry field. The way he always found a reason to be around you, the way your heart sometimes skipped when he got too close, when he said something unexpectedly soft.

The feeling you could never quite name before.

You liked him.

The realization hit you all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs. Without another word, you turned and ran.

You had to find him. You had to know if it was true. Because if it was—if it was, then maybe… maybe this town wouldn’t feel so suffocating after all. Maybe you wouldn’t have to leave.

Your feet carried you through the halls, past blurred faces and voices that didn’t matter. When you rounded a corner, your heart leapt at the sight of Riki’s classroom door, slightly open.

You slowed down, lifting a hand to knock—

Then you heard a voice.

“…Is Y/N really leaving?”

It was Sunghoon, a mutual friend speaking, his voice quieter than usual. He sat across from Riki, who was at his desk, staring blankly out the window.

“Yeah.” Riki’s voice was flat.

Sunghoon let out a breath. “And? How do you feel about it?”

You held your breath, pulse hammering in your ears. This was it. This was what you had been wondering ever since that day in the field. Ever since he started acting different.

Riki opened his mouth, hesitated—then turned back toward the window.

“…I couldn’t care less.”

The world stopped.

Your fingers curled against the doorframe, your chest tightening so painfully you thought it might break.

He couldn’t care less.

Not wanting to hear another word, you turned and ran.

This time, you didn’t stop till you got back home and hid in your room.

That night, you made your final decision.

You took the college offer abroad. You packed your bags.

And you left.

No graduation, no goodbyes.

Not even to Riki.

Because now, it was clear—there was nothing left for you in this town.

And you weren’t coming back.

4 YEARS LATER…

Here you were, walking down the crowded streets of the city you had called home for the past four years. Life had been moving fast—college, late-night study sessions, endless opportunities. And now, after graduating at the top of your class, you were finally taking a well-earned break before diving into the work scene.

The hum of city life buzzed around you—cars honking, people chattering, the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air. Everything felt familiar, routine. Until your phone suddenly vibrated in your bag.

Glancing down, you saw the caller ID flash on the screen. Sunghoon.

You sighed, already knowing this wasn’t just a casual call.

Besides Riki, Sunghoon had been one of your closest friends growing up. And when you left town without a word to the one person who mattered most, Sunghoon refused to let you disappear completely. He had spent years forcing you to stay in touch—going as far as making new email accounts every time you ignored him until you finally gave in.

Bringing the phone to your ear, you greeted him with a tired, “What is it now, Hoon?”

A dramatic whine came from the other end. “Why do you always say it like that? Can’t I just call my really good friend to check in?”

You hummed, unconvinced, waiting for him to get to the point.

“You just graduated, right?” He continued, his tone more casual now. “Come on, take a break from the city and come see all of us. You can visit your family too.”

Your stomach twisted. “I don’t know, Hoon… There’s no real reason for me to—”

“The strawberry festival is coming up,” he interrupted. “You know it only happens every ten years. Didn’t you promise me we’d go when it came back?”

You froze.

The strawberry festival.

You had completely forgotten about it. It was the one time your sleepy little hometown actually came to life. A massive carnival, packed with rides, music, food stalls—and, of course, strawberries everywhere. It was a rare event, held only once every decade, and back then, you and your friends had promised that no matter where life took you, you’d all come back for it.

Had it really been ten years already?

You let out an awkward laugh. “Damn… I forgot all about that. It’s really been that long?”

Sunghoon chuckled. “Yeah. So? Think about it. A break from the city, some fresh air, maybe a little nostalgia… You know you want to.”

You swallowed hard.

A break from the city. A trip home.

Before you could say anything else, Sunghoon spoke again. “Just think about it, okay?” And with that, he hung up, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You exhaled, slipping your phone back into your bag.

You should say no. You should keep moving forward, keep your past where it belonged.

You stood there, phone still in your hand, Sunghoon’s words replaying in your head.

The strawberry festival.

When did time pass so quickly?

You exhaled, tilting your head up toward the city skyline. It had been so long since you left that tiny town behind. Since you left him behind.

Your life here was everything you had dreamed of—endless possibilities, a fast-paced world that never stopped moving. You had finally become someone outside of that small town.

So why did your heart ache at the thought of going back?

Maybe it was nostalgia. Maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe… it was the one thing you never had the courage to face.

Riki.

Shaking your head, you continued walking. It was just a trip. Just a festival. A quick visit, and then you’d be gone again.

Just like last time.

The bus rumbled beneath you as you watched the scenery shift from towering skyscrapers to endless stretches of green. The city had faded miles ago, replaced by winding roads and wide, open fields. Everything looked just as you remembered—maybe a little smaller—but familiar all the same.

You had never set foot in this town since the day you left. Now, as the bus pulled into the tiny station near Main Street, a wave of nostalgia crashed over you.

A lot had really changed. The same diner still stood at the corner but now there were multiple. The old bookstore still had its hand-painted sign, but now it was the center of a plaza. A few new shops had popped up, but for the most part, the town was frozen in time—stuck in the same rhythm it had been in since you were a kid.

You stepped off the bus, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over everything, making the town look almost painting, like something out of an old memory.

Taking a deep breath, you started toward home.

Your parents had been thrilled when you told them you were coming back, immediately insisting on picking you up from the station. You had refused, not quite ready for the flood of questions you knew would come the second you got into the car. You needed time—to process, to breathe, to prepare yourself for what this trip might bring.

Walking through your old neighborhood, everything felt both foreign and familiar. The cracked sidewalk where you once tripped and scraped your knee. The oak tree near the park where you and your friends used to sit for hours. The houses all looked the same, yet somehow smaller, less grand than they had seemed when you were young.

And then, finally—home.

The house was exactly how you left it. The white shutters, the wraparound porch, the wind chimes still hanging near the front door. Your mom must have heard your footsteps because, before you could even knock, the door swung open.

“There you are!” she gasped, immediately pulling you into a tight hug. “Look at you! You look so grown up—well, of course you do, it’s been years—but still! You’re home.”

You laughed softly, hugging her back. “Yeah, I’m home.”

Your dad appeared behind her, smiling warmly. “Took you long enough.”

You spent the next hour catching up, answering the usual questions about school, work, and city life while your mom fussed over you like you’d been gone for decades. It was comforting, but as the sun began to set, you felt it—the weight of the town settling on you, the memories pressing in from all sides.

And with that weight came the one question you had been dreading.

Had he changed?

Did Riki still live here?

Would you run into him?

You weren’t sure if you were ready to find out. But something told you that in a town this small, it was only a matter of time.

And it was.

The first night back home, you couldn’t sleep.

Your mind raced with thoughts of everything this town had been and everything it could be. Memories clashed with possibilities, nostalgia with uncertainty. No matter how much you tossed and turned, the restless energy wouldn’t fade.

You needed air.

With a sigh, you threw off the blankets, slipped into a jacket, and grabbed your shoes. The house was eerily silent as you stepped outside, the night air crisp against your skin. You winced at the sudden chill but ignored it, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you let your feet carry you aimlessly down the quiet streets.

The last time you were here, you’d sworn never to return. The heartbreak had been unbearable, a wound so deep you thought distance would heal it. But here you were.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost didn’t notice where you’d wandered—until you did.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The strawberry field.

The place where it all began. The place where summers used to stretch endlessly under the golden sun, where laughter filled the air, where small hands plucked berries until fingertips were stained red.

It didn’t change. The neatly organized rows were still the same, the vivid wooden fence now more sturdy than before. It brought you comfort.

A bitter smile tugged at your lips. How strange it was to return to something you thought you would never see again. You shook your head, forcing the emotions down. You had a reason for being back, and nostalgia wasn’t going to change anything.

Sunghoon. You should probably let him know you made it home safely.

Pulling out your phone, you scrolled through your contacts and tapped his name. Bringing the phone to your ear, you waited for the dial tone to ring.

Then—

Rustle.

You froze.

The sound came from somewhere behind you, a sound you remembered hearing many times just beyond the tall grass at the edge of the field. Your grip on your phone tightened as you turned slowly, heart pounding.

And then, you saw him.

A tall figure stood a few feet away, half-hidden by the shadows of the night. The dim glow of a distant streetlight cast a soft halo around him, highlighting sharp features, broad shoulders, and a hoodie tied around his waist. His posture was tense—mirroring yours.

Your breath hitched as your eyes trailed upward.

No.

It couldn’t be.

But then, your gaze landed on a tiny, unmistakable detail.

The mole on his chin.

Your stomach dropped.

Riki.

He was blonde now. Taller—so much taller. He had grown into someone almost unrecognizable, yet there was no denying it. It was him.

And he was staring at you just as intently.

Seconds stretched into eternity as you both stood frozen in place, caught between the past and present. You could see it in his eyes—he recognized you immediately. Even after all these years.

Then, he broke the silence.

“Y/N…?”

Your heart clenched.

Your vision blurred.

You didn’t think. You didn’t hesitate.

You turned on your heel and ran.

When you got home you were breathless, without a thought you curled up in your bed and rocked yourself to sleep wanting to forget about who you saw all together.

But it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“Y/N…? Y/N, wake up.”

A voice cut through the haze of sleep, pulling you from your dreams. You stirred, shifting slightly, only to feel warm breath against your face.

Your eyes fluttered open—only to be met with another face inches from yours.

You screamed. On instinct, your fist shot out, connecting with their nose.

“Ow—what the hell?!” The intruder stumbled back, clutching his face in pain.

Heart racing, you scrambled upright, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Tall, smooth dark hair, ridiculously bushy eyebrows—wait.

“Sunghoon?!”

“Jesus, yes, Sunghoon! Who else would it be?!” he hissed, rubbing his nose.

Your gaze flickered to the open window. Your stomach dropped.

“How old are we, Hoon? Why are you still climbing through my window like we’re in some bad teen movie?”

Sunghoon winced, realizing his mistake. “Your mom said you weren’t talking to anyone.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “And a normal person would take that as a reason to NOT break into my room.”

He exhaled, letting silence fill the room before finally speaking.

“What’s wrong?”

Your brow furrowed. “How did you even know I was here?”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Why do you think?”

You swallowed, understanding his unspoken words. Of course.

Sunghoon inched closer, studying your face. “Seriously, Y/N. What happened? You and Riki used to be inseparable.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of his name. You looked away, jaw tightening. “Don’t tell me you seriously don’t know? I saw you two—I heard him when he—”

The words lodged in your throat. You stood up abruptly, fists clenched at your sides.

Sunghoon stood with you. “When he what?”

Silence.

You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t repeat the words that shattered everything four years ago.

Sunghoon, watching your expression, racked his brain for memories—trying to pinpoint where things had gone wrong. And then…

Oh.

It hit him.

Four Years Ago

Sunghoon sat across from Riki, watching him with concern. His best friend sat slumped over the table, face buried in his arms.

”…Is Y/N really leaving?” Sunghoon finally asked.

“Yeah.” Riki’s voice was flat, distant. His gaze was fixed out the window.

Sunghoon exhaled, nodding in understanding. “And? How do you feel about it?”

Riki hesitated. His mouth opened, like he wanted to say something—something real—but then, he turned back toward the window.

”…I couldn’t care less.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you don’t care. You’ve liked her since middle school, haven’t you?”

That got Riki’s attention. He finally turned his head, locking eyes with Sunghoon.

Sunghoon froze.

Riki’s eyes were filled with unshed tears that were threatening to fall.

Without another word, Sunghoon reached out, giving Riki a firm pat on the back before standing. As he walked away, he heard it—silent, shaky sobs.

Sunghoon blinked, snapping back to the present. You were still staring at him, hurt and confusion in your glare.

He exhaled. “Y/N… I think you misunderstood something.”

Your expression darkened. “What is there to misunderstand?”

Oh, there was a lot. Sunghoon pieced it together now—how one sentence, one moment, had ruined everything.

He grinned suddenly, backing toward the door. “Yeah, you two definitely need to talk.”

You scowled. “What—?”

“Everyone’s meeting up to shop for the festival tomorrow. Get dressed and be out in twenty.”

“No way.”

Sunghoon smirked. “You don’t have a choice.”

And with that, he slipped out, shutting the door behind him.

You groaned, throwing yourself back onto your bed before reluctantly sitting up. With a sigh, you dragged yourself toward your wardrobe.

The town festival was tomorrow, and somehow, you had been roped into shopping for decorations and outfits with everyone. Against your will.

Sunghoon had given you exactly twenty minutes to get ready, and true to his word, he was banging on your door the moment time was up.

Now, here you were, standing in the middle of a busy shopping district, regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment.

It wasn’t all bad, though. You and Sunghoon had met up with Jay, Jake, and Sunoo—old friends, familiar faces. It felt just like the old days.

“Try not to look like you want to die, Y/N,” Jay teased, nudging you with his elbow. “It’s not a good look.”

“Oh, my bad.” You deadpanned. “I’ll smile harder just for you.”

Sunoo looped his arm through yours, grinning. “Come on, it won’t be that bad! We just need to grab some lights, banners, and—”

The conversation fell silent when approaching footsteps caught everyone’s attention. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was—Sunghoon must have told the others about You and Riki.

His blonde hair caught the sunlight, seriously since when did he decide to go blonde? His ear piercings glinting with every step. His usual confident smirk was firmly in place as he greeted everyone else—until his gaze landed on you. The moment it did, his expression shifted, and instead of a greeting, he simply looked away.

You scoffed. What the hell? He was ignoring you? But you were stubborn. If he wasn’t going to say anything, neither were you.

Fine. Two could play that game.

Shopping took forever. Between Jake trying on every jacket he saw, Sunoo debating color schemes, and Sunghoon practically dragging Jay away from every fashion store, you were exhausted by the time evening rolled around.

Naturally, the group decided to end the day at a bar.

The dimly lit space was buzzing with energy, music pulsing through the speakers. Drinks were ordered, laughter flowed easily, and—shockingly—you and Riki had managed to stay out of each other’s way. For now.

Sometimes you would catch his gaze on you before he quickly looked away. It confused you, didn’t he choose to keep it distant?

Jake slid a drink your way, grinning. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t tell me you’re gonna be lame tonight.”

You raised a brow. “I don’t need alcohol to have fun, Jake.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off. “But it helps.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion from the day, or maybe you just didn’t feel like arguing, but you downed the drink without another word.

Then another.

And another.

It wasn’t until your head started feeling a little too light, and your laughter came a little too easy, that you realized you might have overdone it.

“You’re drunk,” Riki muttered beside you, eyeing you critically.

You blinked up at him, pointing a finger at his chest. “Nooo, you’re drunk.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Okay, goody-two shoes.” You giggled, wobbling slightly in your seat.

Riki sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Alright, let’s go.”

“What?”

“You’re done for the night. I’m taking you home.”

You pouted but couldn’t resist when he stood, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the exit. The others barely acknowledged your departure, too caught up in their own conversations.

By the time you reached your place, the effects of the alcohol had fully settled in. Your limbs felt heavy, your thoughts hazy. Riki helped you to your room, muttering about how you were such a hassle.

“You’re so annoying,” he grumbled, laying you down on your bed.

You hummed, blinking up at him. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re drunk.”

There was a pause.

Then, in a small, quiet voice, you whispered, “What happened to us Riki.”

Riki froze. “…What?”

You turned your head, staring at the ceiling. “A long time ago. I heard you.”

Silence.

“I heard you say you didn’t care I was leaving, Did I really mean so little to you?”

Riki looked at you silently listening to every word you said. Is that why you left without a word?

“Y/N…“

Your eyes fluttered shut, sleep pulling at you, but before you completely drifted off, you swore you felt his fingers brush lightly against yours.

And then, everything faded to black.

The town was alive with color.

Red and white banners swayed in the breeze, the scent of fresh strawberries and warm pastries filling the air. Stalls lined the streets, selling everything from homemade jams to strawberry-shaped trinkets. Children ran past with sticky fingers, laughing as they chased one another through the crowd. The festival was exactly as you remembered it—sweet, lively, and nostalgic.

And yet, something felt off.

Maybe it was the fact that you could still feel the ghost of Riki’s touch from the night before. Or maybe it was the words you had let slip in your drunken haze.

“A long time ago. I heard you.”

You hadn’t meant to say it. You weren’t even sure he had understood what you were talking about. But now, as you stood among the festival-goers, you couldn’t shake the feeling that today was going to be difficult.

That feeling only intensified when you spotted Riki in the crowd while trying to find everyone else.

He wasn’t with the others. He wasn’t with anyone. He was standing near the game stalls, scanning the festival like he was looking for something—someone.

Then, his eyes found yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world around you continued in its usual festival chaos, but all you could focus on was him. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—something determined.

Then, without a word, he started walking toward you.

You panicked.

Spinning on your heel, you darted into the crowd, weaving between people and past booths in a desperate attempt to avoid whatever conversation was coming. It was childish, sure, but you weren’t ready to face him. Not after last night.

You searched through the crowd, scanning the festival until your eyes landed on Sunghoon and the others standing in line for the go-karts. Without hesitation, you hurried over to them, eager for an escape from Riki and whatever awkward tension had settled between you since the bar incident.

Just as you reached the group, you heard footsteps behind you. A familiar presence. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Riki—his energy was unmistakable.

You ignored him.

Riki, however, wasn’t having it. He caught up effortlessly, standing close enough that you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your face.

“We need to talk,” he muttered under his breath.

You refused to acknowledge him.

The group, oblivious to the silent war happening beside them, continued chatting and joking around as you all waited for your turn. The line moved slowly, giving you plenty of time to bicker over who would win.

“I know I’m going to crush you all,” Jay bragged.

“You’re so delusional,” Sunghoon shot back. “You drive like a maniac.”

“That’s a crazy thing to say.”

“But am I wrong?”

You were entertained by the bickering until you were paired up with Jake on a two seater.

“Just so you know, I’m only targeting Jay,” Jake declared, cracking his knuckles. He turned to you with a playful grin. “Buckle up well, ‘cause we’re going straight after him.”

You laughed, following his order as you clicked your seatbelt into place. “Got it, captain.”

What you didn’t see, however, was Riki’s sharp glare fixed on the two of you. His jaw clenched as he watched the way you leaned into Jake’s side, completely ignoring him.

Riki scoffed, crossing his arms. “So she avoids me but giggles with Jake? Alright then.”

The game was on.

As soon as the music started, signaling the beginning of the race, everyone slammed on the gas.

Chaos erupted on the track.

Jake wasted no time, immediately veering toward Jay’s kart and ramming into him as promised.

“JAKE, YOU ASSHOLE!” Jay shouted as his kart spun slightly off course.

You burst into laughter—only for it to be cut short when your own kart jolted forward from a hard hit from behind.

“What the—” You twisted in your seat, and your breath hitched when you saw Riki behind the wheel of his own kart, glaring directly at you with a smirk.

Jake, unaware of the growing tension, was too focused on getting back at Sunoo, who had swerved past him effortlessly. “Hold on, Y/N, I’m gonna—”

BAM.

Another hit.

Again, it was Riki.

This time, he cut in front of you and Jake, blocking your path.

“Dude, what’s your problem?!” Jake shouted, trying to steer around him.

Riki only tilted his head, feigning innocence. “I don’t know. What’s your problem?!”

You furrowed your brows, confused by his behavior. His tone was sharp, but there was something else beneath it—something closer to frustration.

Not wanting to deal with whatever childish thing he was trying to pull, you gripped the steering wheel and swerved aggressively to break free from Riki’s blockade. Jake whooped as you sped off, but the feeling of Riki’s gaze lingering on you made you tense.

He wasn’t letting this go.

The race ended with Jay dramatically throwing his hands up, blaming everyone but himself for his loss. As the go-karts slowed to a stop, you unbuckled and climbed out, but your mind wasn’t on the game anymore.

Riki had been targeting you the entire time.

And you needed to know why.

You scanned the area, quickly spotting him a few feet away near his kart. Without thinking, you stormed over, your determination outweighing the hesitation you’d felt all day.

Riki, who had been watching you approach, felt a fleeting moment of satisfaction—until he saw the glare on your face. His stomach dropped.

Uh oh.

“What the hell was that, Riki?” you demanded, crossing your arms.

He smirked, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

He leaned against his kart, playing it cool. “I was just playing the game.”

“Really? Because it felt like you were playing with me.”

Riki tilted his head, his amusement faltering. “Maybe because you keep playing with me.”

You blinked, thrown off. “What are you talking about?”

His expression darkened slightly, and for the first time, there was no teasing in his voice. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, Y/N. Pretending I don’t exist, laughing with Jake like nothing happened. What, I don’t even get a chance to talk to you?”

Your breath hitched. You hadn’t expected him to be this blunt.

You swallowed hard. “So your solution was to ram into me with a go-kart?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you to acknowledge me,” he shot back.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re so childish.”

“And you’re so stubborn.”

You had nothing to say to that. Because, well… he wasn’t wrong.

A silence stretched between you, the tension thick, unspoken words hanging between glares and quickened heartbeats.

Then, finally, you exhaled, rolling your eyes as you turned to walk away. “I don’t have time for this, Riki.”

Riki watched you go, an unfamiliar feeling twisting in his chest. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t frustration. It was something more vulnerable, something closer to disappointment.

A pat on his back snapped him out of his daze.

He turned to see Sunghoon standing beside him, arms crossed.

Sunghoon sighed, shaking his head with a knowing smirk. “Good luck, man. You’re gonna need it.”

Riki groaned, running a hand through his hair. Yeah. He already knew that.

But he wasn’t giving up. Not yet.

After the go-karts, you needed space.

The festival had plenty of distractions, and you were determined to find one that didn’t involve Riki glaring at you like you personally ruined his life. So, while the others wandered toward the dunk tank, you made a detour to a small strawberry stand, hoping the sweet treats would help clear your mind.

The old woman behind the counter greeted you warmly. “Looking for something special, dear?”

You glanced over the options—strawberry parfaits, chocolate-dipped strawberries, even little jars of homemade strawberry jam.

Before you could decide, someone else stepped beside you.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Riki.

You stiffened as he casually leaned against the wooden stand, way too close for someone you were actively trying to avoid.

“What are you getting?” he asked, voice light but unreadable.

You ignored him. Again.

He sighed dramatically. “Oh, so we’re still doing this? Cool, cool. Just checking.”

The old woman glanced between the two of you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Couple’s fight?”

Your entire body tensed. “We’re not a couple.”

Riki, annoyingly enough, just smirked. “Yeah. She’s just mad at me for existing.”

You finally turned to glare at him. “That’s not—” You stopped yourself, exhaling sharply. “You know what? I’m not doing this right now.”

“Right now?” he echoed, tilting his head. “So there will be a time?”

You clenched your jaw, turning back to the stand. “I’ll take a chocolate-dipped strawberry,” you told the woman, ignoring Riki completely.

“Make it two,” Riki added immediately, pulling out his wallet before you could even react.

You shot him a glare. “I can pay for my own.”

“I know,” he said, handing over the money anyway. “But you won’t. Because I already did.”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. You wanted to fight him on this. You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face and tell him to back off.

But at the same time…

You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way his fingers subtly brushed yours when he handed you the strawberry. His expression wasn’t just playful—it was calculated, like he was testing you, waiting for you to react.

And that was the problem.

Because every time he pushed you like this, every time he pulled you into his ridiculous little games, you did react. You always did.

And he knew it.

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel. “I’m going back to the others.”

As the festival continued, you did everything in your power to avoid Riki.

You stuck by Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jake, and Jay laughing at their antics, pretending everything was normal. But no matter how hard you tried to shake it, you could feel his eyes on you. Watching. Waiting.

It was driving you insane.

So when Sunoo suggested the Ferris wheel, you jumped at the chance, thinking maybe—maybe—you could get some distance.

Big mistake.

Because, of course, when it came time to pair up, Sunoo and Jake shoved you directly into a Ferris wheel cart with Riki.

“Wait, hold on—” You tried to back out, but Sunoo, with his deceptively strong grip, pushed you forward.

“Have fun!” he chirped, slamming the door shut before you could escape.

The ride operator locked it in place. You were trapped.

With Riki.

The cart swayed slightly as it ascended, the town growing smaller beneath you. A cool breeze drifted through, but it did nothing to calm the heat rising in your chest.

You sat stiffly, arms crossed, refusing to acknowledge the boy beside you.

Riki, for once, was silent too.

The tension was thick—almost suffocating.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“You’re really that scared of talking to me?”

You scoffed, keeping your gaze on the view. “I’m not scared of anything.”

“Then look at me.”

You swallowed, gripping the edge of the seat. “Why should I?”

“Because,” he said, voice lower now. “I think you already know what I’m going to say.”

You clenched your jaw. “Riki—”

“I liked you.”

Your breath hitched.

“I still like you,” he admitted, his tone softer than you’d ever heard it. “And I don’t think I can keep pretending I don’t.”

You finally turned, your heart pounding. “Why are you saying this now?”

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Because you heard me back then. You heard me and you ran away without the full story. What I said at that time, That was just me being stupid.”

He paused regaining his thoughts before speaking again, “Of course I cared. Everyday since you told me you were leaving I thought about ways to get you to stay but you’re just so stubborn.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “So Sunghoon told you I was there, huh?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Am I stupid to think you felt the same way?”

You had nothing to say to that. Yet.

The cart swayed slightly as it reached the very top of the Ferris wheel. The festival lights below twinkled, casting a warm glow around you both.

Riki exhaled, voice almost hesitant now. “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll drop it. I’ll leave you alone.”

You opened your mouth—but the words wouldn’t come out.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

And deep down, you knew it.

The festival was winding down, but the air was still buzzing with excitement. The last of the fireworks were being set up, their colorful bursts of light reflecting off the river nearby. Families and friends gathered near the open field, setting down blankets and sitting on benches to watch the grand finale.

You tried to focus on the people around you—on Sunghoon, who was finishing off his fourth funnel cake, on Sunoo, who was still determined to win a giant stuffed bear at the dart game. But no matter what, your attention kept drifting elsewhere.

To him.

Riki stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, staring off into the distance. The glow of the festival lanterns flickered against his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brows.

You had spent the entire night avoiding him, but after everything that happened—after the Ferris wheel, after what he said—you knew you couldn’t keep running forever.

So, before you could talk yourself out of it, you took a deep breath and walked over.

“Riki.”

He turned, eyes widening slightly when he saw you. “You’re talking to me now?”

You ignored the teasing in his tone. “Can we walk?”

He blinked, surprised, but nodded. “Yeah.”

The two of you drifted toward the quieter part of the festival, where the sounds of laughter and music softened into a gentle hum. You walked in silence for a while, the only sound between you being the crunch of gravel underfoot.

Then, finally—

“You’re right, I did hear you,” you admitted, staring at the ground. “Back then. When you said you didn’t care if I left or not.”

Riki exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I know.”

You frowned. “Did you say something after that?”

“I did but you didn’t stick around to hear it.” He glanced at you. “Sunghoon scolded me for lying.”

Your fingers curled into your sleeves. “What you said that day wasn’t the whole reason why I left.”

Riki stopped walking, turning fully toward you. “Then what was it?”

You hesitated, looking up at him. The glow of the fireworks reflected in his dark eyes, filling the space between you with something unspoken—something that had always been there, even if neither of you had wanted to face it.

“I was scared,” you finally admitted. “I was scared of losing you too but not only as a friend, I liked you as well.”

Riki studied you for a long moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a soft laugh—one that wasn’t mocking, but almost relieved.

“Y/N,” he said quietly. “Is there hope that you still like me?”

You opened your mouth to answer but…. You couldn’t.

A loud boom echoed across the sky as the first firework shot up, exploding into a burst of red and gold. The crowd in the distance cheered, the sound carrying through the night air.

Riki looked up, his expression thoughtful. “I liked you back then,” he murmured. “And I still like you, I meant it when I said it on the ferris wheel and I still mean it now.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Slowly, he turned back to you, his usual cocky grin replaced with something softer, something real.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” he admitted. “But I do know that I’m done pretending like I never loved you.”

You stared at him, the fireworks painting his face in shifting colors. And in that moment, with the warmth of the festival still lingering in the air, you realized something.

Maybe you were done pretending, too.

The festival was over.

The lights had dimmed, the stalls were packed away, and the echoes of laughter had long faded into the quiet hum of the small town. The air smelled of burnt sugar and fireworks, remnants of a night that felt like both an ending and a beginning.

And yet, here you were—standing in your childhood bedroom, staring at your suitcase.

Your flight was tomorrow morning.

You were supposed to leave.

That had always been the plan, hadn’t it?

You had spent so much time dreaming of something bigger, something beyond this town. You told yourself you needed to leave, that staying here would mean getting stuck in the past.

But then… he happened.

The memories of the past few days replayed in your head—the strawberry fields, the carnival, the fireworks, the way his voice softened when he admitted, “I still like you.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair before pulling out your phone. One unread message stared back at you.

Riki: Meet me at the strawberry field before you go. One last time.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. You could say no. You could leave things as they were, pack up, and walk away without looking back.

But deep down, you already knew the truth.

You weren’t leaving.

Not this time.

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the fields, the dew still fresh on the leaves. It was quiet here—peaceful in a way that made your heart ache.

And waiting for you, just like always, was Riki.

He turned at the sound of your footsteps, hands shoved into his pockets. “You actually came.”

You exhaled, crossing your arms. “Of course, I did.”

He tilted his head. “Did you decide?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you let your gaze drift over the rows of strawberries, remembering how it all started—the first time you met as kids, the summers spent running through these fields, the memories built in a place that had somehow always brought you back to him.

Then, finally, you looked at him.

“I’m staying.”

Riki blinked. “Wait—”

“I don’t know for how long,” you admitted. “I don’t know what comes next. But I do know that leaving doesn’t feel right anymore. Not if you’re here.”

A slow smile spread across his lips. Not cocky, not teasing—just genuine.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

His smirk returned as he glanced down at the strawberry bushes beside you. “So… what now?”

You raised an eyebrow, then crouched down and plucked a ripe strawberry off the vine, twirling it between your fingers before tossing him a look.

“You still think you can pick more strawberries than me?”

Riki let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You cannot be serious right now.”

You only smirked. “Scared you’ll lose?”

His competitive streak kicked in immediately. “You wish.” He bent down, grabbing his own handful of strawberries before shooting you a challenging grin. “Alright, let’s do this.”

For the next few minutes, it was like nothing had changed. You were just two kids again, running through the fields, arguing over who could pick the most, sneaking strawberries when you thought the other wasn’t looking.

And then—

Riki suddenly reached out, grabbing your wrist mid-motion, stopping you in your tracks.

Your heart jumped. “What—”

“You’re really staying?” His voice was quieter now, serious.

You swallowed, your fingers still curled around a strawberry. “Yeah.”

A moment of silence.

Then—Riki took a step closer.

Closer.

Until he was right there in front of you, his hand still wrapped around your wrist, his eyes locked onto yours like he was searching for any hesitation.

There wasn’t any.

And maybe that was all the confirmation he needed, because the next thing you knew—

He kissed you.

Soft, tentative at first, like he was giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned in, your free hand reaching up to tangle in his hoodie as the warmth of his lips melted away any lingering doubts.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, Riki’s lips curled into a smirk.

“So… does this mean I win?”

You scoffed, shoving a strawberry into his mouth before walking past him.

“Shut up and pick more strawberries, Nishimura.”

His laughter echoed through the field, and as you glanced back at him—his eyes shining, his smile wide—you realized something.

This was home.

And you weren’t going anywhere.

[trash-can-sam]

Qi’s time at sandrock.

I think  hes better friends with a lot of people than he actually thinks he is, and I think the town rubs off on him a lot more than he would like to admit.

A thing I wrote that inspired this I couldnt fully fit in but I like it a lot “He doesnt want to admit that these complacent, stupid people with no desire for efficency or improvement have made a place in his heart. That they have grown on him in a way they all sort of notice, just in little thing. Small gestures like sometimes apologizing after he says something rude/out of pocket. Or he’ll deliberately take less time on projects, prioritizing their projects over his own personal ones. Or he starts to leave his lab door unlocked. Or how he sits outside the blue moon instead of in the corner on the inside. How his interactions, although they remain brief, contain small insights into his life. Qi doesnt notice this change that much of course, but the more observant people in sandrock who do notice it know enough not to point it out.” 

[bacchuschucklefuck]

the boy-but-not-that-way-ism of riz gukgak send tweet

[moeblob]

Deacon willing to help people but doesn't recognize people so he doesn't remember what he did for who. So he just agrees and is like cool don't mention it then they mention it and he's like uhhhhhh.

However, that's other humans. He can identify the deities much easier because they have a unique glow. Like can actively tell Ymber "oh Lady Fulj just entered the city" and Ymber is like how the heck did you sense her that far away when I can't sense her that far away. It actually takes a while for Ymber to realize Deacon really doesn't know any of his coworkers and who he's talking to.

[mwagneto]

i think what's really been getting to me the past few months is the realisation that i dont relate to literally any of the mental health stuff i see anywhere. like whenever there's some affirmation or motivation or just relatable-sounding posts in general they all seem like such common problems and it's like, damn i literally dont experience any of that. and yet im still crumpling. something uniquely wrong with me

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.

[loveryoushouldvecomeover-mp3]

yk what it was never that serious oh my god

[nebulainatree]

Ohhhh Folly my beloved. I understand you like no one else does. I get it. Cycles of self hatred and not forgiving your inner child. I get you Folly AUGH IM SO ILL IM FUCKED UP ABOUT THIS FOREVER. AUGHHHH. FOLLYYYY

[elftwink]

one of the most infuriating things that happens in discussions about trans people is like, when a transphobe talks about how its just SOOOO easy to access gender affirming care, it's so easy to get on hrt or get referred for surgery etc... some of you dense motherfuckers respond to this by saying "no!!! it's not easy!!!! its so hard!!!" & listen. i KNOW that it IS HARD for many of us. and in many places it's getting harder. but tell me this: isn't the goal, eventually, to make it easy? not just easier than right now, but genuinely easy for a transgender person to access the care they need on whatever timeline they want, no matter how fast or slow? so if you spend all your time right now combating transphobia by insisting that transition is difficult and taxing and traumatizing, what are you going to do if and when it's none of those things? if there is no endless suffering and million hoops?

when someone says "it's too easy to transition" in order to justify their own transphobia, and you say "no it's not", you're also saying "if it were, your feelings would be justified". which is already kind of a terrible implication without taking into consideration that what most of these people mean by "too easy" is "possible". they mean that you can transition and they don't want you to. point blank. when you say it's difficult, they think "good. it should be harder". it will never be difficult enough to not be easy to them.

i am literally so sick & tired of all of us throwing each other under the bus in order to advocate for a future that is fucking miserable and awful. when someone tells you their nightmare scenario is transgender people being happy, you should not be responding to that by reassuring them that actually, transgender people are miserable and always have been and always will. when someone complains about how easy transition is you should say "good". we are never getting out of this fucking crab bucket if we're not only pulling each other down but also telling other people that pushing us back in would be fine if we were a little closer to the top.

[guinevereslancelot]

not to be ungrateful but i don't get paid enough at my job lol

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[ablednt]

Granted I have the overall geographical and cultural knowledge of a 4th grader but from what I can tell the nuclear family model really does seem to be a white colonial invention

Different cultures have different approaches but I mainly hear about either large family units where multiple generations support each other and raise their children and grandchildren together or an "it takes a village" approach where children are raised somewhat communally

And I can't really speak on it much or claim that these families were free of abuse or that children aren't often an oppressed group basically everywhere I know of but the way ownership of your children is so engrained into white society is so bizarre

Like once you notice it you can't unnotice it even the most loving well meaning parents don't know what to do about it because everyone is so isolated from their own families and their own communities so you wind up with 1-2 parents who have full legal ownership of their child and are raised in a culture where you don't have personhood until you're 18 and all attempts at self actualization before them are seen as clueless rebellion. Like our culture is so divorced from the concept that a parent is someone who is helping mentor and care for their child so they can thrive as a fellow human being and it's actually so alarming

And ik this problem isn't unique to white and colonized people but it's honestly really soothing to hear about how other cultures approach and view parenting and community as a whole and to internalize it doesn't have to be this way

[alyimoss]

yknow what ive seen a lot of "gaster and chara fucking hated each other" headcanons but ive seen very little of the opposite. which to me is kinda sad bc imo its a better, more fun interpretation.

i like to imagine gaster looked at this hurt, traumatized child and saw a bit of himself in them. and so he offered them advice.

yall know the smile theory? that smiling make monsters stronger in a way? that it can stave off death, even if for a short while, etc? that *thats* the significance of it, the reason why its so tied to gaster? that could very well be the reason chara is known for their smile, too.

i nean- theyre a child who was so badly hurt they were practically obsessed with the concept of finality—a state in which they are too powerful to be hurt by anyone. i can see them not smiling almost at all when they first fell (what is there to smile about?) until they hear from gaster that a smile is protection. when you smile, others cant hurt you as bad. a smile is like armor. he smiles to stay safe because he knows all thats out there, all thats capable of harm.

and from then on chara smiles no matter what. they smile and laugh through the wordt moments. because they know now this is their armor. their protection.

i rhink they would admire gaster. his efforts for monsterkind, his advice to them. i think theyd see him as someone trustworthy (in my own personal headcanon, he knew about their and asriels plan. not fully, i mean, but he knew the lengths chara could go to. and the only reason he knew was because he would do the same. chara told him because they saw a kindred spirit)

i like to think gaster is crushed post charas death. i also like to think that, if chara remembers gaster after their "revival", *then* they would have issues. we know nothing about gaster canonically, sure, but in my own headcanon and theory world, the things he does make less and kess sense to chara, align less with their worldview and their beliefs. and only then do they clash with him. because at first he was someone they genuinely loved, someone they admired.

anyway, i think gaster thought of them almost as family. he cared for them deeply, always ready to give advice or comfort or teach them or. really anything. they would sit and talk for hours about the world and their personal philosophies and findings. i want gaster, like the dreemurrs, to be part of the loving world chara never got to experience on the surface rather than yet another enemy. you know?

[vaguehotels]

had the most braindead repetitive conversation/argument with my parents. buzz cuts are too masculine but if you dye a design on it it become effeminate which is bad because then you look weak and if youre weak then society falls apart (all societies ever that have fallen apart for any reason are actually because of feminine men) and we start sacrificing babies. and also all mental illness is invented because only 4 people had anxiety in the 90s and covid was made up so that we would all become gay and trans and then the government can control us better and be joe biden's little sex slaves. and also i need to keep my hair long because my father finds it attractive. what

[1zashreena1]

Accidentally falling back into an old hyperfixation only to find out that the old hyperfixation has a new movie coming out that I did not know about guess it's a new hyperfixation again