#feels sad to go there alone with no one to see you off

[harrywavycurly]

Not In The Same Way: A Harry Styles Blurb✨

CW: Mentions of drinking, language, jealousy?

A/N: I have been thinking about this scenario in my head for a week and it just needs to get out, sorry in advance because it’s a bit sad-ish? Also this fts long hair Harry so if he’s not your thing that’s fine!

Summary: Sometimes Harry acts more like your boyfriend than your bestfriend, but he can��t help it especially since your actual boyfriend is an asshole✨

Harry looks at the time on his phone and lets out a sigh as he sees it’s just barely past midnight, far too early to be calling it a night seeing as he just arrived at the club that he’s currently helping celebrate the opening of not even an hour ago. But at the moment he doesn’t care as he slides his phone back into his pocket before he makes his way through the crowd towards the table his friends are at so he can tell them goodbye before he disappears for the rest of the evening. Once he spots them he puts a smile on his face but then he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he doesn’t need to check it to know it’s a new text and without a doubt it’s going to be from you. When he finally reaches the table his friends, or more so just social acquaintances that he sees at these types of events that he chooses to stick with instead of venturing off alone, greet him with warm smiles and sounds of cheer that he’s returned to them after going to the bar for a drink.

“Uh oh he’s got that look.” Harry turns to look at Gina who’s sitting at the end of the table closest to where he’s standing behind an empty chair. “You can’t possibly be leaving us so soon?” She accuses before she takes a sip of her drink, Harry looks around the crowded club and lifts a shoulder up in a casual shrug before he places his full drink down on the table.

“Sorry but it looks like you lot will still have a good time without me.” He explains as he takes his phone out, he feels the corners of his mouth drop a bit at the words on his screen, another text from you about your current location and how you just want to go home.

“Harry come on you just-”

“I’m sorry I really have to go.” Normally Harry wouldn’t be so quick to cut people off when they are asking him to stay out a little longer, he’s normally up for having fun well into the early morning hours when he goes to enjoy a night out but everything changes when it comes to you.

This isn’t the first time a night out has been cut short due to a frantic phone call or a string of clingy texts all from you, and Harry never hesitates to pick up no matter what he’s doing or where he’s at because you’re his bestfriend and have been for the last few years. The only issue is that sometimes the lines get blurred that should tell him where being your bestfriend ends and where he should let someone else, such as the absolute prick Kyle you decided to start dating two months ago take over. But he can’t ignore your calls or your texts just because he thinks he shouldn’t be the one to pick you up when you’re at a bar with your friends and want him to take you home, he also can’t ignore the slight tingling of pride he gets knowing he’s still your first call whenever you need someone.

The phone in his hands vibrating brings him back to reality when he looks and sees your name along with a photo of your smiling face taking over the screen, he quickly slides his thumb across the screen and brings the phone up to his ear. He gives the table of people one last smile and a wave before he turns and heads for the back exit, not even bothering to stop when he hears the shouts begging him to stay for just “one more drink”.

“Harry?” He smiles as your voice hits his ears while he does his best to maneuver through the dance floor full of people swaying to the beat of the music being blared through the speakers of the dj booth. “Harry are you there?”

“I’m here love.” He answers as he finally finds his way to the back exit where his driver is already waiting for him in the alleyway. He holds the phone up to his ear with one hand while he pushes the door open with his other. “You okay?” He asks as he scans the alley, his driver blinks the headlights letting Harry know where the car is parked.

“I just wanna go home.” You sigh making Harry frown as he walks the short distance to his car. “Can we go home?” Harry feels his heart drop when he swears he hears the sound of a sniffle come through your end of the phone. He quickens his pace to the parked car and opens the door to the backseat and gives his driver a little nod letting him know it’s okay to start driving since Harry already sent him your location he doesn’t need to be told where he’s heading.

“Of course love I just have to get to you first okay? M’not far so I’ll be there in a few.” He hears the sound of a door closing before you let out a huff making him assume you’ve found your way to the bathroom, deciding to just wait for him in there instead of with your group of friends.

“Where are you?” Harry looks at his suit and wonders for a moment if he should lie to so you don’t get upset thinking you ruined a night out for him. He must’ve paused for too long because a few seconds later he hears you let out a small whine before your voice is full of concern and a touch of panic. “Oh god did I interrupt something? You’re not in the middle of-”

“Hey hey it’s fine I promise you didn’t interrupt anything okay? I wasn’t doing anything important.” It’s not a total lie, a club opening its anything Harry would consider important and when he hears you sniffle he knows he needs to do something to get your mind off of the idea of you ruining his night. “What color dress did you go with for tonight? The black or pink?”

“Black the-the pink one has a stain on it from when you spilled coffee on it last New Year’s Eve.” He hears you let out a small chuckle and he smiles because he can imagine you sitting on the counter near the sink in the small bar bathroom laughing at the memory of last New Year’s Eve. “You had glitter all in your hair do you remember?” Your voice is softer and less frantic as it was a few moments ago.

“That’s because you ran us right under a confetti and balloon drop.” He doesn’t mention the kiss you planted on him as soon as the clock struck midnight, simply telling him it’s bad luck to start the new year without a kiss even if it is just one shared between friends.

Even though to him there wasn’t anything friendly about the way your hands tangled into his hair as you pulled him down to you for a second and third kiss to his lips. But then again the same could be said for his hand that he had on the side of your face and his other that gripped your hip so he could pull you closer to him while also doing his best to prolong the moment because he didn’t want you to pull away and it be the end of it, the end of a moment you’d later just brush off as if it meant nothing while to Harry it meant everything he’s just never told you.

“I had no idea that bar was going to have a balloon drop that was a shock.” You say with a laugh and Harry just nods as he runs a hand through his long hair as he looks out the window and sees the sign for the bar you’re at in the distance as they turn down the street it’s on. “That was a good night.” Harry smiles as you let out a dreamy sounding sigh and he wonders if you’re thinking of the kiss.

“It was.” He feels the car come to a stop and he notices a few random groupings of people out front, mostly just outside for a smoke or waiting for their rides. “I’m here love do you need me to come in or-”

“Can you? Or is it too much?”

“I can come in and get you that’s fine you’re in your usual spot?” He asks as his driver gets out to come around and open his door for him.

“Yes I’m in the bathroom.” Harry laughs and nods as if you can see him, anytime he’s come to rescue you from this bar in particular you always seem to be in the bathroom so you can escape whatever it is that has you calling him to come get you in first place rather it be you’re too intoxicated and don’t trust anyone around you or your fiends are being a bit mean, the bathroom is always where he finds you.

“Okay see you in a minute love.”

“Okie dokie.” You say with a smile before hanging up just as Harry’s door opens allowing him to get out and put his phone in his pocket before he heads for the entrance of the bar he is extremely over dressed for.

“Hey Carl.” Harry greets the bouncer with a smile when he approaches the door, the man looks up from his phone and gives Harry a once over before raising an eyebrow at him.

“Harry it’s good to see you but you sure you wanna come in here dressed like that? It’s two dollar tequila night.” He warns with a laugh as he reaches out and straightens out Harry’s suit jacket making Harry roll his eyes and playfully swat his hands away.

“I’m just here to take her home so hopefully I won’t be in long.” He informs the older man who just shakes his head because he knows you just as well as he knows Harry if not better since you’re here more often than he is so he knows it’s never quite that simple as just coming to get you and leaving.

“Ah well make it snappy okay? Can’t have you classin’ up the place.” He jokes as he waves Harry inside with a pat on his shoulder as he walks by making Harry chuckle as he walks through the door.

He keeps his head down a bit so he can try to avoid being spotted by the group of friends he knows you came here with, not that he’s really able to be that inconspicuous in his suit and dress shoes that make a horrible noise every time he picks them up from the sticky floor to take a step. He knows this bar like the back of his hand with how often he’s been inside either as a ride home or to join you in a night out thanks to how close it is to your apartment and how often they run specials on your favorite liquor, so he knows the small round table in the far right corner is where he’ll find a few of your friends that don’t enjoy dancing as much as the others. He also knows by the end of the night the small table will be far too crowded with drinks ranging from totally empty all the way to full to the brim as well as a few tubes of chapstick rolling around, and it’ll be surrounded by all your friends and possibly a few new additions they deemed worthy of being their dance partners for the evening that’ll either end with a new contact saved in their phone or a fake promise to see each other again.

Harry looks up and quickly scans the extremely crowded dance floor just to make sure you didn’t move from your usual spot, the bathroom at the end of the hall behind the bar. When he doesn’t see any signs of you, which he would be able to spot the tiniest hint of your hair or your smile from a mile away because to him you’re just that easy to find in a crowd, he heads towards the bar. He offers a polite smile to people as he does his best not to step on anyone’s toes and maneuver his way through the people dancing, chuckling to himself when he spots your friends swaying a little off beat near their designated table.

“Figured it was only a matter of time before you showed up.” James the head bartender shouts over the sound of customers telling him and the other bartender, Rebecca their orders. Harry just rolls his eyes as he makes his way behind the bar, giving James a friendly pat on the shoulder when he walks behind him.

“She’s lucky I love her or I’d have kicked her ass out of the employee bathroom by now. She’s been in there for half an hour.” He explains before Harry can turn and head down the hallway, hearing how long you’ve been inside the single stalled bathroom makes Harry raise an eyebrow since it’s only been about fifteen minutes since your initial text asking him to come get you.

Harry sees the very familiar door that he knows isn’t going to be locked because one time you accidentally ended up locking yourself inside with the key stuck in the doorknob and it took ten minutes for James and Carl to get the door open. He tries to prepare himself for whatever state you might be in even though over the phone you didn’t seem drunk or even very tipsy so he begins to think maybe you’re just having a rough night and want to call it quits well before your friends do resulting in them being a bit teasing, something he knows you don’t handle well in situations like this. He brings his hand up to the door and gives it three good knocks before he steps back to give you space to open the door and check who it is that’s bothering you.

“Oh thank god.” Your arms are wrapping around his middle and your cheek is pressing into the fabric of his dress shirt all before he can even say hello. “I’m so happy you’re here.” You mumble into his chest as Harry finally returns your hug and wraps his arms around your shoulders so he can pull you closer to him.

“What’s wrong love? Why’ve you been-”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” Harry just lets out a small sigh as he feels you give him a tight squeeze. He places a small kiss to the top of your head while one of his hands run up and down your back.

“Ready to go home then yeah?” You pull away from him so you can look up at him and he smiles down at you as you nod but then he watches as your eyes take in his appearance making the wrinkle between your brows form as you look at him.

“You’re in a suit.”

“I am.”

“You said you weren’t doing anything important and-and here you are in a suit.”

“I wear suits to unimportant things all the time.”

“Harry…” your voice is a mixture of a groan and a whine as you rest your forehead on his chest. “You shouldn’t be here if you’re in a suit that means you were at an event and events are important because you’re Harry Styles and-”

“I’m exactly where I should be.” He says stopping your rant before you can say anything else. “Now come on let’s go get your purse so we can go.” He feels you tense up at the mention of grabbing your purse and it all begins to make sense to him while you’re hiding out back here instead of with your friends. “Having some trouble with the girls?”

“I just-they are so mean when I talk about him and it’s-I don’t like it.” Harry thanks his lucky stars you’re not looking at him as you bring up your boyfriend, Kyle because his face would’ve made you question if he was okay due to the way his jaw is clenched and his eyes are no longer soft around the edges like they normally are anytime he’s near you.

“What’s he done now that’s got them all upset?” You let out a long sigh as you pull away from Harry making his arms fall to his sides as you place your hands on your hips while turning your head to look towards the back of the bar.

Harry feels his heart sink when he hears you sniffle and give your head a little shake as you hold up a hand towards him because you already know his arms are desperate to pull you back into his embrace at the sight of you getting upset over your boyfriend but you want to answer his question and you won’t be able to do that if he’s holding you because you’ll be too comfortable and won’t want to ruin the moment.

“He uhm he’s cheating on me or-or that’s what they think.” Harry licks his lips before he tucks his bottom one between his teeth as he lets your words sink in for a moment. “And I don’t know if he is or not? I don’t-I just don’t know.” You mumble as you look down at your feet.

“Why do they think that?” His voice isn’t harsh but it’s not nearly as soft as it was a moment ago. “What’s he been doing that’s got them all accusing him of cheating?”

“His Instagram is private now and he unfollowed everyone and he uh also posted some things to his uhm Snapchat that-”

“He unfollowed everyone? Even you?”

“Yes.”

“When’s the last time you talked to him?”

“I really don’t want to do this right now.” Harry lets out a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair, that answer telling him everything he needs to know. “Please Harry. I just want to go home.” Your voice is watery as you turn to finally look at him again and all the anger Harry was feeling towards Kyle melts away when he sees your bottom lip start to tremble and your eyes gloss over with unshed tears.

“Let me go get your purse and we can go.” He takes a step towards you and places both hands on your face, gently cupping your cheeks. “I love you.” Is all he says before he leans down and places a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you too Harry.” The words sting a bit as they hit his ears because of course he knows you love him, just not in the same way.

[stevie-petey]

growing pains

But you’re tired of pretending. “Why am I here, Steve?”  “I thought we already established it’s because you walked in the snow.”  He’s dodging. Avoiding the question and the truths that will come with it. “Steve.” Hissing his name is familiar, it feels more natural. This is how it should be between you. Anger, disdain, raw. “And there it is,” He winces. “The fighting begins. We lasted, what? Ten minutes? Merry Christmas to us.”

Summary: steve buys you shitty coffee five years after your breakup.

Rating: general, swearing

Warnings: fem! reader, use of y/n, exes!au, slight unhealthy relationship if u squint, ambiguous ending (kinda)

Words: 8k

Before you swing in: hi my dears ! heres a very sad/bittersweet coffee shop conversation with far too many flashbacks and miscommunication. yummy ! unintentionally made this a christmas fic, so the bleachers song merry christmas please dont call is very fitting lmao. enjoy !

-

A flurry of snow coats Hawkins. Christmas lights reflect off the pristine white as the quiet stills everything in the town. There are no cars that drive past you. Hardly anyone littering the sidewalk as your footsteps trace a path in the freshly fallen snow. In the small, rundown cafe there is only one other patron brave enough to face the winter cold. 

The bell above the door signals your arrival.

Steve looks up at you. 

The flush of cold air stains your cheeks a ruddy red, though his gaze tinges the hue pink. The blush gives away the fondness you hoped you had buried below your sternum; but the fondness is still there. It will always be there. 

Steve gestures silently, offering you the seat in front of him. He’s chosen a small table in the back of the room. Secluded. Private. But he doesn’t stand to greet you. 

You sit. The cold makes your body slow. Steve’s presence makes your posture stiff. Your hands remain folded in your lap. You don’t place them on the table, too reminiscent of the times he would reach across and interlace your fingers together. 

The deliberate act is small, your only defiance, but still, after all these years, Steve sees it for what it really is. You’re still exactly as he remembers. The corner of his lip twitches, hiding a smile that you still know the weight of. How it felt against your own lips. 

“The whole town is buzzing about a white Christmas. We haven’t gotten snow like this in years.” 

Inconsequential. Steve’s first words to you in five years are inconsequential. 

There are still flecks of snow on your clothes. A snowflake melts slowly on your scarf. You watch its demise. There is nothing you want to say to him. 

Steve shifts slightly. Clears his throat. You still make him nervous. “I wasn’t sure you’d still come.”

“I walked.” Your first words to Steve are inconsequential, too. 

“In all this snow?” His surprise is soft, bordering on amusement. He takes his coat off, and underneath is a cheesy holiday sweater that makes your throat clench. “Aren’t you freezing?”

You shake your head. “I like the cold.”

And then Steve smiles. Genuine, it stretches across his entire face. “Yeah,” a breathy laugh that echoes in your ears. “I remember.”

– 

“I can’t feel my legs.” Steve whines, lagging behind you as the two of you trek through the snow. You’re at the bottom of the hill, still a long way from the top. “How are you still alive?”

You’re flushed in excitement and youth. The apples of your cheeks match the pink hat that keeps sliding into your eyes. Planting your feet firmly into the snow, you continue to climb. “It’s not that cold.”

“It’s freezing–shit!” Steve slips on a patch of ice. His voice cracks as he yelps, and you giggle at his embarrassment. He glares at you. “Please don’t laugh at me. I’m miserable here, Y/N.”

“You’re the one who wanted to come. I was perfectly happy going sledding alone.” You’re halfway up the hill now. The flimsy plastic tube you’re using to sled hangs loosely from your hand. “Don’t be such a baby.”

Steve scoffs. “God forbid I try to be romantic and go sledding with my girlfriend.”

Your cheeks flush an even deeper shade of pink. It still feels weird, hearing him call you his girlfriend. The word is new, foreign, but the warmth that accompanies it is one that you hope you never get used to.

“Besides, who even goes sledding alone?” Steve continues, still pathetically behind you. “What if you got hurt? No good boyfriend should allow that to happen.”

You snort. “What, are you my knight in shining armor now?” Shifting low, you start scooping up some snow. “Is that what you want me to say?”

“All I’m saying is that I’m totally a saint.” 

You laugh, now packing the snow into your hands as you form a snowball. “Oh, I’m sure you are.” Steve hasn’t noticed what you’re doing yet. He doesn’t know that in a matter of seconds you’ll cover his face in snow. Sneaking a glance at him, your breath catches.

There are snowflakes in Steve’s hair. A few kiss his cheeks, dancing along his freckles. The brown of his eyes glow warm ember in the white snow. His skin is pink, alive and pure. He’s beautiful. Devastatingly beautiful in a way that makes you ache.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Steve asks you, face wrinkling in confusion. 

You cough, embarrassed to have been caught. The snow in your hands starts to sting. The pain grounds you, clears your mind, and you try to pretend that the molasses in your bloodstream isn’t love. 

Throwing the snowball, it explodes in Steve’s face. He shrieks, sputtering at the cold shock. “Y/N!”

You laugh, loud and happily. Your ribs ache and your breaths escape your lungs in a burn that soothes you. Steve lunges toward you, hands finding your waist as he pulls you close. He grips you tightly, he can feel your laughter in his chest. 

“You’ll pay for that!” he buries his nose in your neck and you squeal, laughing even harder. Steve pulls you impossibly closer. He relishes in your warmth. He relishes in the way you squeal when he starts to tickle you. 

Warm. Everything about you is warm. 

You are sunshine against Steve’s skin. 

–

Someone else walks into the cafe, the sound of the bell echoes in the chasm between you and Steve. There are no more snowflakes on your scarf. The warmth of the cafe is stifling, although there is a comforting familiarity to it. 

“How are you?” 

Another inconsequential question, although you can’t fault Steve for it. He’s trying. More than you are, anyways. But what are you supposed to say? What are you supposed to do, seeing your first love after five years of silence and absence? 

“Fine.” The response falls flat, mundane. Disinterested. Wincing, you really do try to sound as if you want to be here. “Good. I-I’ve been good.”

“Yeah?” Steve raises his eyebrow, leaning in. “I mean, I’m not surprised.”

Your shoulders tense. “What do you mean?”

Seeing your unease, Steve quickly explains himself. “Shit. That sounded ominous. I’m sorry,” he runs his fingers through his hair. The same way he used to do when he was seventeen. “What I meant is that Robin told me. About what you’ve been up to these last few years.”

Your shoulders drop. Of course Robin still talks to him about you. You suppose it’s only fair, seeing as how she tells you about him, too. She remained friends with you both after the breakup. She hadn’t wanted to take anyone’s side, and she’s kept true to that. 

“What has she told you?” 

It’s a real question. You know Robin would never tell Steve anything embarrassing or incriminating. But curiously gnaws at you. 

“Nothing bad, unfortunately.” Steve gently teases, but his prodding is only met with your uninterested gaze. He sighs, clears his throat. “She told me you moved to New York. Nearly screamed my ear off when your publishing deal got accepted. It’s pretty incredible.” 

Your fingers pick at the skin underneath your nails. “It’s only for one book.”

“Five years, and you still can’t accept a compliment.” 

“You’d be surprised by what can change in five years,” your eyes avoid his. “Is the coffee any good here?”

“It’s terrible,” Steve slides his mug over to you. Steam rises from the black liquid inside. “Milk and sugar. Hope it’s still how you like it.”

You take a sip, cringing at the taste. You’ve come to prefer your coffee black, bitter but rich. The coffee Steve has bought you is too sweet, but you drink more anyways. It gives you something to do. 

“I’ve been good, too. Thanks for asking.” Steve leans against his seat, placing his hands behind his head. He’s as coy as ever. The years haven’t made him humble. “I’m sure you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t wondering.” You set the mug down. “I heard you made history being the youngest English teacher at Hawkins High.”

Steve’s mouth parts in shock. In another life, you pinch his lips together and kiss the tip of his nose. In another life, five years ago, you did.

But not this life. “Robin talks about you, too.”

“Of course she does,” Steve echoes your earlier thoughts. He leans back again, eyes never leaving your face. “Were you surprised? Steve Harrington. English teacher.”

The answer comes easily. “No.” 

“No?”

“No,” you twist the mug around. Steve stares at you and you wish he would stop. He’ll see through you, he’ll see the fondness and he’ll know everything you’ve tried to erase. “You were always interested in what I was reading. You didn’t hide it very well.”

Steve smiles to himself, his own fondness leaking over. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t.”

He could never hide anything from you. 

– 

You’re in the classics section of Hawkins��� library. You wanted to check out a few books they recently collected. The librarian has your personal landline. You’ve spent more and more time in the building, reading all of the greatest authors. 

Steve always comes with you.

“Look, Y/N. I adore you, but if there aren’t any ass-kicking spies or alien babes, then I’m not reading it.” He shoves the book you hold in front of him away. “What the hell is a Brontie, anyways?”

“It’s Bronte,” you poke Steve’s cheek. “And I really need you to stop pretending that you don’t know these authors. It’s gotta be exhausting.”

He grabs the hand poking his face and twists it, forcing you to spin and land against his chest. “I’m not pretending, sweetheart. I don’t know any of these names.”

Steve claims he comes to the library with you because he gets lonely without you, but you’ve caught him rifting through Albert Camus and Erich Fromm. He could spend hours paging through their works. 

But you’ll allow him to keep this one secret from you. 

“C’mon,” you laugh, tugging Steve’s arm towards a new section. “Help me find Fyodor Dostoevsky. I want to study the way he writes his characters’ inner monologues.”

“No way that’s a real name.”

You laugh again. “Just shut up and help me, please.”

Eventually you find Dostoevsky and you become engrossed in his words. They’re intricate and complex, yet there’s a simplicity and plainness that strikes you. You write down a flurry of notes, not wanting to forget a thing; one day you want to command words the way all the authors you’ve studied seemed to do. 

You’re so lost in the world Dostoevsky has built, that you don’t notice Steve’s absence until he returns again. 

“Hey, check this out.” He’s holding a book, his finger saving the line he wants to show you. “This Pablo Neruda dude was like, a total romantic. Wanna hear?”

You lean against the bookshelf, curious. “Are you going to read to me?”

The only response is Steve’s charming smile. He steps closer to you, your breath mixes with his. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving.’”

He closes the book, but he doesn’t move away. Your foreheads touch. 

“Love”. A word neither one of you has said until now. Until Steve read you a poem and uttered the word three separate times. 

He loves you, and you love him. 

Standing on your tiptoes, you kiss him. Steve kisses you back. 

– 

“Do you enjoy it?”

Steve drums his fingers on the table. “Enjoy what?”

“Being someone that kids look up to.”

He breathes out slowly. “I forgot how much you love asking heavy questions.”

You finally look at him. “You’re the one that asked to meet for coffee.”

“Fair point,” Steve scratches the back of his head. “Thank you, by the way. For agreeing.”

“I was in town.” You look away again. “The holidays. And the wedding, I guess. Nancy asked me to come.”

“I still can’t believe she got Byers to agree to a winter wedding.” Steve shakes his head, smiles to himself. “Anyways, to answer your shockingly emotional question: I do enjoy it. I love teaching. I love being someone that kids can come to. Is it terrifying? Absolutely. But selfishly, I like to think I’m good at it.”

Even though you don’t want to, you smile at him. “You’ve always been good with kids.”

Steve doesn’t expect your sincerity. The praise is small, a throwaway comment more than anything else, but it’s the nicest thing you’ve said to him in years. He’s suddenly shy, ducking his head. “I don’t know. Those little bastards were really difficult to handle.”

The little bastards being Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, Max, and El. The kids you grew up with, a consequence of being neighbors with the Wheelers. One day there was a kid on your doorstep demanding you let him use your old scooter.

Mike had been only nine then, but he had been fierce and persuasive. After giving the scooter over, Mike forced you into his life. Then the rest of the party’s lives. 

Nancy came later, then Jonathan, and then, eventually, Steve. 

“They admired you.” You tell Steve, honest. “They still do.”

He blushes again. “You really think so?”

“I remember more than you think,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I remember everything, too.”

– 

The morning of the kids’ graduation, it’s a blur of packed cars and nervous excitement. Steve offered to drive everyone, giving the parents time to get situated and find seats at the high school. 

“Your car reeks.” Mike kicks Steve’s seat.

He glares at the kid. “Why didn’t you ride in Nancy’s car, then?”

“Her and Jonathan are gross.”

Lucas fixes his graduation cap. “They whisper to themselves a lot. It’s creepy.”

Max elbows him. “It’s because they’re in love, doofus.”

“Steve and Y/N are in love, and you don’t see them whispering to themselves.” Dustin points out, which you laugh at.

“I’ll be sure to never whisper to Steve with you guys around.”

Will pokes the back of your head. “Can you tell your boyfriend to drive faster? If we’re late, I think Hopper might actually kill him.”

“My dad would not kill Steve.” El corrects. “He would only hurt him. A lot.”

Steve pales slightly, stepping on the gas. “Alright. Guess we’re getting a speeding ticket, then.”

You end up arriving at the high school with a few minutes to spare. All the kids run out the car, throwing a quick thanks as they scatter. They’re gone in a heartbeat, a mass of green caps and gowns. 

“We’ll see you guys on stage!” You shout through the window, waving as they leave. 

“Remember how nervous we were when we graduated?” Steve asks you.

You shake your head fondly at the memory. “You wouldn’t stop sneezing. I had no idea you were a nervous sneezer until then. Robin thought it was the most embarrassing thing ever. I contemplated breaking up with you.”

“It’s a debilitating condition, Y/N.”

The graduation is long, but with six separate kids to listen for and cheer on, it passes quickly. When their names get called, you and Steve are the loudest ones who cheer. Robin calls you guys dramatic, but she screams her heart out when Dustin walks the stage. 

Nancy cries when Mike walks, and Jonathan, who had only just stopped crying after seeing Will walk, has to hold back his tears yet again as he consoles her. 

The five of you are a mess, and when the kids find you after graduation, you aren’t sure who starts running first. They swarm you, arms encase you and you hold onto them tightly. Will is crying, El can’t stop jumping, the kids are all a mix of emotions, yet they all remain fixated on Steve.

“Did you see the way I walked?”

“I waved at you! Did you see me?”

“You’re really loud when you scream, ya know that?”

“A poster would’ve nice. Just saying.”

All their eyes are on him. Their questions directed at him, eager to be answered. They seek Steve’s praise, like sunflowers following the sun’s rays. 

As you stand back, watching the way Steve is so loved by the kids, you fall in love with him all over again. 

– 

Steve picks at the frayed edges of his old jacket. It’s the same one he bought with you, back when winter in Hawkins was warm and yellow and light. Now everything is dull. Grey and bleak. 

“I never thought that you’d forget.” He acknowledges your hurtful words. He doesn’t like their implications. “I’d never think that.”

Steve’s clipped words make you defensive. Heat rises to your face. It makes your heartbeat spike. “There are a lot of things I thought you’d never do.”

He sucks in a breath. 

The cafe is quiet again. Your coffee remains untouched, cold. 

Steve finally tears his eyes from you, and the loss of his gaze feels colder than you expected it to. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To see his disdain for you on his pretty face, for him to hurt how you had. Isn’t that why you agreed to this?

The way Steve’s entire demeanor changes, how quickly his smile slips from his face, makes you question why you’re even here. Suddenly you want to take it all back. To mold his face into a happier one, get him to look at you again and trick yourself into believing that the tenderness in his eyes is real. 

“I’m sorry.” The apology comes out fast, the words mesh together, but it’s the best you can manage. “That… that was mean.”

“I think mean is fair.” Steve looks at you, his lighthearted smile is back, but it doesn’t shine like before. “Honestly, I’m relieved you’re being mean.”

You’re confused. Everything he does confuses you. “Is that why you asked me to coffee? Because you wanted me to be mean to you?”

“Partially.” He sips your discarded coffee and quickly spits it out. He wipes his mouth, gagging. “Jesus, that’s fucking rancid. I don’t even know why I did that. I hate coffee, and it’s even worse when it’s cold.”

He’s making a whole show of this. The way Steve talks to you, the questions he’s asking and the way he responds to whatever you tell him. He’s trying to recreate something that isn’t there anymore. Treating your time in the coffee shop together as if you’re two friends catching up.

But you’re tired of pretending. “Why am I here, Steve?” 

“I thought we already established it’s because you walked in the snow.” 

He’s dodging. Avoiding the question and the truths that will come with it.

“Steve.” Hissing his name is familiar, it feels more natural. This is how it should be between you. Anger, disdain, raw.

“And there it is,” He winces. “The fighting begins. We lasted, what? Ten minutes? Merry Christmas to us.”

Fed up, you slam your chair back and stand. If Steve wants to evade every question and act as if this is all some giant joke, then he can go fuck himself. 

The sudden motion makes Steve jump, but he quickly stands up with you when he realizes that you’re leaving. “Shit, wait–”

Steve’s hand grazes yours and you flinch away, reeling back. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Y/N…” He stands still, the venom in your voice cementing him to the ground. In all the time he’s known you, you’ve never rejected his touch. Bitterly, he thinks that you were right about what you said when you first arrived at the cafe.

A lot can change in five years. 

You press the back of your hand to your forehead, trying to calm yourself down. Even though there’s no one else in the shop, you still don’t want to cause a scene. Not here. Not like this. 

“This was a mistake.” You swallow down bile. Steve still manages to get such a vulgar rise out of you, and you hate it. “At Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding, we won’t speak to one another. We won’t ruin their day, and you can sit with Robin. I don’t care. We can just pretend that we don’t–”

Your words die in your throat. You can’t bring yourself to finish them. 

“That we don’t what, Y/N?” Steve knows exactly what you mean to say. He narrows his eyes at you, pushes you to lay the final blow. 

Your breath stutters. Your body is cold. You may still make Steve nervous, but he still makes you nervous as well. He can still cut through you viciously in a way only someone who has truly loved you can. 

He stands before you, begging. “Say it.”

You’ve always been weak for him. “That we don’t hate each other.”

But your words are meaningless. As if you could ever hate each other. 

Steve lets out a bitter laugh. “The one thing I can’t do when it comes to you is hate you.”

“Steve–” You want to take it all back. You shouldn’t have said it. You don’t know why you even said it, but you did.

“I can go five years without hearing your voice. I can wake up without you next to me. I can spend the rest of my life regretting that I lost you.” Steve doesn’t move, he doesn’t come near you. He’s hurt and he’s in pain and you don’t know how to be the one to help him anymore. “But what I can’t do, the only thing I can’t do, is hate you.”

–

The bay window caught your eye first. Then it was the rich brown wood floors, and then the garden that overlooks Lover’s Lake. Inside the apartment there are vintage tiles that you adore and the baby-blue walls make you feel faint.

The home Steve finds for the two of you is, unsurprisingly, perfect. 

“Do we really get to live here?” You ask, breathless as you wander through the empty hallways and bedroom. Never before have you had such endless space to yourself. It feels very adult, very final, and you wouldn’t have chosen anyone else to experience this first with than Steve.

“We better get to live here.” Steve huffs, setting down another box. You tried offering to help, but he scoffed at the idea and told you to admire the apartment instead. “The deposit was fucking expensive.”

Your fingers brush over the cream white curtains. They’re soft beneath your touch. “At least your dad was kind enough to pay it.”

“And if by ‘kind enough’, you mean ‘wanted his son to move out already’, you’d be right.”

“Same difference.”

Steve laughs and the sound echoes through the empty room that you know you’ll have years together to fill. You already have a million things you want to purchase for the apartment. Steve’s only request had been that you make the apartment feel like a home.

As if anywhere with Steve doesn’t already feel like a home. 

Later in the night you order pizza, starving and exhausted from moving. There’s no table for you and Steve to sit at. No chairs to rest on. You eat your first meal in your new home on the floor, surrounded by boxes and laughter. 

It’s perfect. 

“While I’m grateful for Mrs. Wheeler for giving us her spare bedding and all,” Steve wraps the blanket tighter around the two of you. The bed beneath you is lumpy and old, the only furniture that came with the apartment, but a bed is a bed. “I feel weird sleeping in her sheets.”

You press your nose against Steve’s neck, feeling your bones sag with relief. “She’s hot. I’d sleep in her sheets any day.”

Steve chokes on his spit, falling into a coughing fit while you giggle hysterically. He hits his chest, tries to suck air back in, and you’re laughing so hard there’s tears in your eyes. 

“You can’t just say that!” He sputters, still coughing.

“I know you were thinking it!” You giggle again, your smile presses against Steve’s cheek. His body is warm and soft and he smells like home; it's addicting. He’s still coughing when you kiss his cheek and brush his hair back. “Can you stop dying already? I’m trying to kiss you here.”

Steve wraps his arms around you and throws his body on top, smushing you beneath him. You squeal, giggling even harder now as he litters your skin with feathery kisses. “You’re trying to kiss me, huh?”

His nose runs down your cheek. Down across your forehead, to the tips of your ears. He kisses every inch of skin he can reach. “I don’t think you’re doing much kissing here, Y/N.” Steve kisses your eyebrow. His lips skim your chin, they linger in your laugh lines as endless laughter pours from you. 

“It-it tickles!” More laughter, you try to shove Steve away, but he places all his weight against you and kisses the apples of your cheeks. His fingers curl around your waist, nails digging in softly. He has you right where he wants you. 

“Kiss me,” he breathes into you. Over and over he repeats himself, kissing you with every enunciation. “Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.”

Steve begs you and you ache. He never has to ask you. You would do anything for him. 

You tilt your head, find his lips, and you get lost in each other. He kisses you slowly, intentionally. With a softness that makes you shiver. He whispers how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, and the syrup in your lungs simmers.

“I love you,” you murmur, lips kissing his chest. “I think you’re my favorite person in the world.” 

A childish praise, but it’s everything to Steve.

– 

Steve orders you another coffee. Black this time, no sugar. The barista brings the cup over when it’s ready, the steam the only source of warmth between you and him. 

Snow falls outside and Steve hasn’t been able to look at you since you sat back down. 

You’re not entirely sure why you’re still here. Neither one of you talk. There is no more disingenuous small talk between you. No more forced smiles. Polite questions about how the other has been.

All there that remains between you and Steve is the absence of what was. 

“Robin said we’d only last five minutes.” 

You remember the surprise on her face when you told her you’d accept Steve’s offer for coffee. She didn’t think you’d say yes, and the surprise quickly morphed into skepticism. She placed her book down, patted your hand, and told you good luck.

Steve laughs, short and staccato. “She has such shit faith in us. We’re nearing twelve minutes now.”

“We’re stubborn.” The coffee is disgusting even without the excess sweetness. Steve is right. The coffee here is truly horrible. 

“If I remember correctly, you’ve always been the more stubborn one.” He isn’t mean when he says this. More observant, stating a fact.

You set the coffee down. “And if I remember correctly, you hit your head a lot when we were kids.”

A small smile. “Which would mean?”

“That it’s possible you don’t remember anything correctly.” You tug at your scarf. “Maybe I wasn’t as stubborn as you’re remembering.”

Steve laughs this time, a real laugh that melts the ice that froze over moments ago. “Whenever we argued, you never let me get a word in. I’ll never forget that. I would’ve found it impressive, if it weren’t directed at me.”

Snippets of memories flash through your mind. You and Steve hardly argued throughout your entire relationship, but when you did, the fallout was always scattered pieces. 

“Doesn’t mean I’m stubborn.” You say weakly, still not quite ready to admit otherwise.

“I’d argue with you, but I was hoping we’d make it to fifteen minutes.” Steve takes your coffee, sips it again and cringes like he did before. Only he doesn’t say anything this time. 

“Is there a prize if we make it to fifteen?”

He smiles into the coffee. “Possibly.”

Silence again.

Steve keeps the mug in his hands, using its warmth to soothe his cold fingers. Years ago, he would use the heat of your hands to warm him. But your hands remain folded in your lap and you no longer want his touch. 

The silence eats at you. You bite your lip, twist your fingers together. You don’t know why you stayed, but you don’t know why Steve stayed, either.

“I was pretty stubborn, wasn’t I?” 

Steve looks at you. His eyes shine for a brief moment. “Maybe a little.”

– 

Shortly after moving into your apartment, you started writing. After years of reading other people’s stories, you felt that it was time to write your own. But finding the story was difficult. Every night you stared at your blank pages, willing them to fill with the words you were unable to write. 

As for Steve, he started picking up spare shifts at the local diner. He hated being a waiter. He thought it was degrading, but as a twenty-two year old with no college degree or work experience, it was all he could do. 

Money was tight, you were both starting to feel the weight of truly being on your own. You weren’t just two kids anymore. There were real responsibilities now. Grappling with your futures rather than imagining them.

And then one day you got a phone call that changed everything. 

“I can’t miss this interview!”

“And I can’t just leave work in the middle of the day to drive you, Y/N.” Steve sighs deeply over the phone. You can practically envision the way he pinches the bridge of his nose and tugs at his hair. It’s grown long. Longer than it’s ever been before. You like it this way. 

You glance at your watch and curse, frustrated tears burning your eyes. “Steve, please. This could make or break my entire future.”

“Sweetheart, I understand that, but if I leave work early, I’m getting fired.”

“You don’t know that!” You need him to say yes. You need him to drop everything for you and drive you to Bedford so that you can meet with a literary agent and discuss your work. 

It all happened so fast. One moment you were sending yet another draft of short story ideas to random agents. The next, you’re getting a phone call offering an interview in a town an hour away from Hawkins.

None of it felt real. That is, until the catch fell against you: the agent can only meet today and you don’t have a car. 

“David explicitly told me that if I leave work early one more time, my ass is grass.” Steve rubs his face, exhausted. He wants to help you, he wants you to finally get your big break. You’re far too talented for Hawkins, you deserve to be somewhere better; but the reality is that you can’t afford it right now. “Can’t someone else drive you?”

“I already called everyone else.” Your face is hot from anxiety. “Robin. Nancy. Jonathan. Hell, even Mike and the kids! But no one can take me and I have to be there in two hours.”

“Y/N…” 

Your head falls against the wall. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Steve’s heart clenches. He sucks in a breath. “I know that, okay? I-I do. But I can’t afford to lose this job. We’re already behind on rent, we still owe my dad for the deposit–”

“But you can always get another job!” You exclaim, losing whatever grasp you have left of your sanity. “I mean, Jesus, Steve. You’re just a waiter.”

The line is silent for a moment.

“I’m sorry?”

His tone is quiet, it laces guilt into your veins. 

“I-I just meant that there’s a shitload of restaurants in Hawkins,” you’re rambling now, regretting everything. You shouldn’t have called. You shouldn’t have said what you did. But now it’s too late and you’re in too deep. Letting out a breath, your lips tremble. “But there’s only one literary agent who wants to meet with me.”

There’s yelling in the background. Steve mumbles something to someone, you think you hear David yelling at him to get back to work. Muffled rustling, followed by a string of curses.

“I gotta get back to work.” Steve says curtly, not even giving you a chance to respond before he’s already hanging up the phone.

The dial tone rings in your ear. 

You never make it to your interview.

Steve gets home late that night. He walks past you, he doesn’t acknowledge you besides the slam of the bedroom door. 

– 

“I never apologized to you.”

Steve sets the mug down. He doesn’t ask you what you mean. “No, you didn’t.”

You swallow. “I… I’m really sorry, Steve.”

He shrugs. It was a long time ago. He’s forgotten the sting of your words. The marks they left have long since faded. “It was your dream.”

“But you were more than just a waiter. Hell, you were the only reason we didn’t lose the apartment.” You rub the back of your neck, relieving the tension that knots it. “God, I was so fucking naive. I’m sorry for not realizing sooner, for not appreciating everything you did for us.”

Steve shrugs again. “We were just kids.”

The coffee you drank suddenly sinks in your stomach. 

We were just kids.

Sometimes you forget that your relationship with Steve had been your childhood. The two of you met when you were fifteen, fell in love when you were seventeen, and fell apart when you were twenty-three. 

You’d been so young together. The mistakes you made, the hurt you caused, were childish gashes with bullet-sized exit wounds. 

“We were just kids, weren’t we?” The nostalgia in your voice surprises even you. 

A fond smile ghosts Steve’s face. It’s barely there, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. “Young and in love. Now we’re just old.”

“At least we aged well.”

Steve raises his eyebrow at you. “Was that a compliment, Y/N?”

You smile, coy. “Who said anything about you? I was referring to myself.”

Steve scoffs, light hearted. You expect him to retaliate, to tease you how you’re teasing him. Instead, his gaze softens. He leans forward, drawn into you as he always is, and lowers his voice. “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

Years separate you and Steve. It’s been nearly a decade since love first tied you to each other. There used to be a knot, tied into something intricate, small, yet lovely, that connected you to Steve. 

And yet, with one sentence, the strings come together again.

“I still haven’t forgotten,” you fall back in your seat, away from Steve. “How you hurt me.”

He mirrors your body language, moving away as well. “And what about how you hurt me?”

You cross your arms. Steve crosses his. Staring at one another, a stalemate is reached. The memories that tie you together are both your vice and your virtue. The love is still remembered, it’s still warm to the touch, but so is the hurt. 

Robin would call you both childish if she were here right now. You can practically hear her now, annoyance in her voice as she rolls her eyes at the staring contest unfolding. She’s always resented how stubborn you both are.

“Why did you call me?”

Steve inhales sharply. He knows he has to answer the question. It’s only fair that he gives you an explanation for why he decided to call you at three in the morning the Friday before your plane was due to arrive in Hawkins’ small airport for Christmas and a wedding you both were invited to. 

But he can’t. Not yet, at least.

“If it makes me look any better, I called Robin first.” Steve forces a laugh out. “Granted, she told that if I called you that I’d probably die. But still. Blame her.”

Everything unravels after that.

“You never showed up.”

“Y/N.”

A crack to the surface, followed by a fist of anger that shatters everything. “You promised me you’d be there.”

“I was dick, I know–”

“Do you know how humiliated I was?” Steve winces, and his shame only enrages you more. “How utterly shitty it was when all our friends, our families, asked me where you were, and I couldn’t answer them?”

“Y/N, please just let me explain–”

“No.” The mug spills over as you hit the table, standing up furiously. You’re crying. You don’t remember the tears building. “You don’t get to call me in the middle of the night, buy me dogshit coffee, and then spoon feed me shitty excuses! You were my boyfriend, I wanted to marry you, and you abandoned me.”

“Is the coffee really that bad?”

Your jaw clenches. Steve rubs his neck, looking everywhere but at you. He’s trying to be funny. His first words to you in five years were inconsequential, and now he’s trying to use humor to ease the sting of guilt that he feels seeing you.

The decision is an easy one. 

“Goodbye, Steve.”

His hand grips yours before you can even turn away. Startled by his sudden touch, you don’t pull back. Not this time, at least. You’re frozen, staring at Steve as he stares at you. He’s pale. His chest heaves and there’s terror in his eyes.

“Don’t.” It’s all he can say to you.

“Let me go.” But still you don’t pull away.

Let us go. Please. 

“I…” He blinks, almost winces to himself. Steve doesn’t know how to tell you the truth. Not anymore. Not like how he used to. But you’re pulling away again and he’s just gotten you back and he can’t lose you. Not again. “I resented you.”

Your back straightens. “Excuse me?”

“I-I know how bad it sounds, but if you just–” Steve gestures behind him, tries to sit you back down. But you don’t move. His eyes plead with you. “Y/N, please.”

He looks so akin to the boy you once knew. The resemblance twists the tendons in your chest, forces the air out of your lungs. You don’t move, but you don’t leave, either.

Steve accepts all that you’ll give him. 

– 

The home you built with Steve loses its warmth. Lazy Sunday mornings cease to exist. He doesn’t hold you at night. Dates go unplanned, dinners eaten alone. Laughter dies and you stop waiting for Steve to come home. Everything stills. Lost in a time capsule that was once your dream. 

Winter comes and the snow that blankets Hawkins softens the dull ache of the distance that’s built between you and Steve. He starts taking night classes at a local community college and you spend your nights writing. 

The first story you write is about a lonely barn owl who hops through dwindling branches trying to find its mate. The creature calls out for someone, its wails echoing through the deserted forest that once was alive with creation. 

A snowflake that gets lost in a storm that it created becomes your second story. Its frail, lithe body too transparent to be anything other than alone. 

Then you write about a dandelion that mourns for its seeds that have been cruelly torn from its body. 

Over and over you write about loss. How cold it leaves a person, the emptiness that can never quite be filled. 

In the end, it’s this sense of loss that gives you everything you’ve ever wanted, yet leaves you with nothing to show for it. 

“I sent my writing to a short story show. I got in.”

Steve unbuttons his work shirt. He worked a double shift at the restaurant, but spares you a tired smile. “That’s great.”

The praise is small, but the rarity of it makes it feel like gold upon your skin. Cheeks flushed, you smile back at him shyly. “Thank you.”

Steve goes back to changing out of his clothes and you’re left to deal with the silence that always seems to follow you these days. Your feet carry you to the bed, sitting down gently as you watch him. He doesn’t shy away from your gaze, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, either.

“The show is in two weeks. Christmas Eve.”

“Oh,” Steve pauses in the closet’s doorway. His hand rests on an old sweater you got him when you first started dating. He pulls out a different one instead. “Well. I already took the day off, so I’ll come.”

You try not to focus on the fact that he makes attending sound like an obligation. A dull chore he has to complete. 

“Robin already promised she’d be front row. Jonathan and Nancy, too.” You get up, stand behind Steve, rest your head on the back of his neck and encircle your arms around him. He stiffens at the touch, so do you. But you can’t let him go. “I think even some of the kids will come. And my parents, obviously.”

“Sounds like you’ll have an entire crowd devoted to you.”

“Yeah, but I only really want you there.” You whisper, vulnerable.

Steve sucks in a breath, releases it. He doesn’t say anything else. 

The next two weeks you read your collection of short stories aloud for hours on end. You rehearse how to present them, the right cadence and intonations. How to make the loneliness heavier, the serenity sweeter. You don’t let Steve listen, claiming you want to surprise him alongside everyone else the day of the show.

Later, you’ll come to understand that you had been afraid of how he’d react. If he’d even react at all. 

The show is a haze of people and praise. Robin brings you flowers, Jonathan takes pictures of you with all the kids. Dustin surprises you with an old leather journal he found for you to write all your ideas in and El hands you a ribbon to bind it. 

Your mother cries and your father hugs you warmly. Mrs. Wheeler and Nancy bring Christmas cookies and organize the large audience you’ve built for yourself in the seats provided by the show. It takes two entire rows to seat everyone you love. 

Robin saves a seat for Steve. He’s late.

The night is spent listening to brilliant writers reading their stories to a small, but kind, audience. There are a total of eight featured writers. You’re scheduled to read your writing last.

After the second writer finishes, you look anxiously over at the audience and bite your lip when you still don’t see Steve. The fifth writer goes on and your nails are bloody from picking at them. Mike murmurs something to Robin, who shakes her head and nervously shifts in her seat, eyes never leaving the empty seat next to her. 

The seventh writer shares a story about newfound love and its warmth. 

Nancy finds your gaze and the pitying look in her eyes makes your nausea even worse. 

You stand in front of a mass of people who lean into every word you read aloud. The seat next to Robin remains empty.

Steve never comes.

And it’s the last time you ever wait for him.

–

“I really was proud of you, you know.” Steve says softly, regretfully. “Robin told me you won an award later that night.”

“I did.” The award had been your ticket out of Hawkins. It got you money, connections with publishing agents. You moved to New York not even a week later.

Steve looks down. “I should’ve been there.”

You don’t bother to agree with him. You don’t want to coddle him, lessen the guilt he feels for how cruelly he hurt you. You’ll never forget the pit that formed in your stomach when you realized he wasn’t coming.

“I regret what I did. Every single day I wish I had gone.”

“You resented me instead, apparently.” Your laugh is cruel, cold.

Steve sits back down numbly, his body falls and the seat beneath him catches it. He places his hands on the table, slowly, defeated. He looks up at you, allows himself to finally confess everything. “I resented how easy everything seemed for you. I mean, you were making a name for yourself while I waited shitty tables and slept through grueling night courses.”

You clench your fists, still refusing to sit down. “And that gave you a right to diminish my own accomplishments?”

“Nothing makes sense when you’re twenty-three.”

Not an omission of truth, but rather acknowledgement of how differently you see the world when you’re young. Though you want more from Steve, you accept this. In a way, you suppose he’s right. 

“I didn’t go to the show because I was scared of how much I was falling behind.” Steve doesn’t look away from you. He’s laying all his cards on the table, open and waiting for you to read them. “We were in over our heads, but somehow only I was the one drowning.”

Rent, bills owed, grappling with adulthood while still shedding your adolescence. Loneliness while being together. Careers that hurt and dreams that struggled for breath. You and Steve had been drowning together. Until one day you weren’t. 

Steve drinks the coffee, he doesn’t pressure you to sit down again. Instead, he sighs. “I let your words get into my head. In your mind I was just a waiter, and I felt that nothing I was doing with my life was worthwhile. The only thing I had done right by the time I was twenty was having you love me.”

The anger that was quick to rise is also quick to dim. There isn’t any left for you to fight. 

Finally, you sit. You take the coffee from Steve and the now cold liquid is a reminder of how much time has passed. “The age old question: do actions speak louder than words?”

Did what I say justify what you did? Or did they cause each other, creating a cycle that we can never escape? 

You won’t forgive him, but you understand him. Steve was hurting just as much as you were, only his hurt came from your own insecure and unsure words. You told him he was just a waiter because you were scared all you’d ever be was an unknown writer. The weight of your future made you scared, the uncertainty of it all overwhelmed you and made you cruel. 

Steve had fallen victim to the same fate.

“Robin told me it was growing pains.” Steve says. “What happened between us. It was all just growing pains.”

Begrudgingly you smile. Your cards are on the table as well. “You called me to discuss growing pains?”

The crinkle of Steve’s smile warms the cold cafe. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

“Tell me, then. Are we done growing?” You lean forward, allow your body to be near Steve’s again and the buzz of the proximity sets your skin on fire. He breathes in sharply. He hasn’t been this close to you in what’s felt like a lifetime. 

Steve leans forward too. You can smell his cologne, his eyes still shine how you remember them. His face is the same, though weathered with age and experiences you no longer know about. You count the moles that scatter his face, heart thumping wildly when you realize you still remember how many there are.

He’s still so beautiful. 

You’re weak for Steve. Your bones still remember the weight of his love.

“I don’t think we’ll ever be done.” Steve sinks even closer, nose almost bumping your cheek. You hold your breath, body humming. 

Breathless, you ask him, “then where does that leave us?”

Steve pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. He studies your face, the familiar angles and peaks of your nose. Your eyes, how they’re still his favorite color. Your hair is the same, maybe a little shorter now, and your perfume still the warm vanilla that reminds him of home. 

You’re still the girl Steve fell in love with when he was a kid. He’s still the boy you fell in love with when you were a child. There is still hurt, memories you both want to forget, but there is love within it. Young love can be formed anew, if someone lets it. 

“Together.” Steve finally says. “It leaves us together.” 

-

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[xetlynn]

an artists muse- a viktor fic.

eleven.

[ten] [eleven] [twelve]

faithful to its nature, its power never diminished.

Arms wrap around you sweetly, you lean into it. Wanting nothing more but to stay in the moment. “you’re so pretty.” And you look over to see Viktor. You smile, going in to place a kiss on his lips. It was perfect. The room was dark, only dimly lit by the laptop screen that played…

That played um… What is it playing? You pull away from the kiss, to look over at the device that was beginning to look weird. “What the-” “[Name]?” You look back over to Viktor who was now replaced by Powder. Your best friend. You furrow your eyebrows, slightly in disgust. You blink a few times.

“What?” You rasp and you hear Powder laugh, her arm rested on your waist as the two of you lay together on your bed watching a show. “Dude, you passed out.” She announces. “We’ve only watched one episode.” She tells you and you scrunch your face. Trying to register what was happening. “Sorry.” 

She raises a brow at you. “Have a nightmare or something?” Powder sits up, her arm going back to her own side. You frown momentarily at the loss of her warmth. “No, I- it was stupid.” You shrug your shoulders, sitting up as well. Staring down at your fingers as your face grows flustered. “Tell me about it.” 

You think back to the short, painfully short dream. “It was about Viktor. For the hundredth time.” You sigh, annoyed with your own brain. Creating such imagery in your own head that you now have to think about when you’re conscious. “Mm, not surprised.” Powder huffs out a laugh, leaning into you as she also pauses the show. “Thanks.” You scoff, sliding off the bed to stretch out your limbs. 

“No problem, but seriously I have a question.” Your best friend follows suit, jumping on the ground. Surely to give you guys another complaint by the people underneath you. “What?” You ask, heading over to your desk, plopping down on the rolly chair.

“Do you love him or something?” The question catches you off guard and your eyes almost pop out of your own head. “Love?” You repeat.

“Yeah, if I’m wrong you can tell me but I only ask because this is like a heartbreak [Name]. I’ve never seen you this… disheveled over any break ups you’ve had.” Powder explains her reasoning. 

And thinking back to it, she’s right. With your past relationships, that was official, you’ve never really given it another thought when it ended. It was over and yeah you were sad for a little bit but this is different.

Your chest ached with the mention of Viktor. In most dreams there he existed, holding and loving you, and each time you pleaded it was real when you wake up. Only to be left with the harsh reality that you ruined that chance of being tangible.

You beat yourself up every second you're alone. 

“I don’t know. It had only been two-three weeks of getting to know one another. I feel love is a strong word for that.” You tell her truthfully. “Did you love him when he was your online friend?” She inquires and your eyes travel over to your phone. “I had love for him. He was a close friend but can you fall in love with someone you technically never met?” You question, it was something you asked yourself quite a lot. Did you love Ma? Could you fall for someone you never saw face to face. Was that possible? And if it was, is it pathetic? 

“I think so, I mean you know who he is now. Is the feeling the same for both?” 

“Why are you interrogating me?” You ignore the last sentence, now feeling on edge on how deep this was getting. “Just curious.” She hums. “I don’t know the answer.” And truthfully you didn’t. 

Love? You don’t even know if you’ve ever truly loved someone. As time passed you believed you weren’t capable of loving someone more than a friend. With your exes it never felt right. In those relationships you were honestly miserable. No motivation, putting on a mask, and not being true to yourself. 

You couldn’t enjoy your interests. Your art is forgotten about.

With Ma… or Viktor. Both. That never happened. If anything you were more motivated.

In high school you stayed up until ungodly hours, painting, sketching out sculptures based on the sound of Ma’s voice. The colors you saw, the feelings you felt all put into your art. 

Specifically the crowd paintings you created. Crowds of people. Crowds of familiar faces but not the one you wanted to see. A face that you hadn’t gotten the chance to meet blurred out but facing you in each painting. Only one figure that stood there, staring back at you. No features attainable to recognize.

And you hated it. You wanted to know who it was.

“Wonderful ideas, wonderful models. I don’t think I’ve had such intelligent and creative students as I do this year. Take this time to inspect others' projects and mingle with one another.” Your biology professor tells the class, everyone of you standing up to his directions. 

Viktor and you stick together, unintentionally throughout the room. No words said between either of you.

You admire your fellow classmates' work, clicking through the slides on each laptop. Reading thoroughly through their slides. Silently gushing at the way they decorated their boards. Viktor observes you the entire time. 

The words of his friends stick in his mind. You don’t entirely seem upset? But if they had seen it themselves, surely they’re not lying to him. His eyes scanned your face closely. A hardened gaze, his jaw clenching subconsciously.

Did he want to see you upset? Why would he want that? To know you’re hurting just as much as he is? Would he wish that pain on someone he lo- he respects? 

No, he wouldn’t.

You look back at him with a polite smile. “Right?” His eyebrows furrow, confused. “What?” He asks hesitantly, his cheeks fell warm as he is put on the spot by you. You snicker. “I said, their work is so organized, maybe the two of you would hit it off.” You repeat, your breath now caught in your throat. Wondering if that was too friendly too soon. He glances over to the people’s work. 

It had no color, monotonous and tidy. Is that what you think of him? Bland, tasteless and… boring? 

His head bows down, a ghost of a nod. “Sure.” He dryly replies, unfortunately feeding into your worries. “Did I say something wrong?” You quietly inquire as you guys head to the next board. A clique of students pushing past you. 

“No?” He averts your eye contact. Was he actually upset that you think of him like that? 

“Oh.” You puff out your cheeks, not knowing what else to say.

The voices of others cover the awkward beats of silence between the two of you.

“Am I that mundane to you?” He was almost inaudible when he asked the sudden question. You cock your head to the side. Your mouth opens to answer but he lets out a scoff shaking his head.

“Don’t answer that.” He walks ahead of you. 

Mundane? Why would he think that? You pointed out the person’s tidiness because of how put together Viktor is. You admired that.

He preferred things a certain way, his room showed that. He still had a personality outside of that. His energy drew you in. The way he held himself, the enigmatic essence but also the familiarity you felt.

And now you know the familiarity was Ma. They were the same person.

Ma used to tell you about the moon and constellations for hours. He enjoyed star gazing. He enjoyed reading and learning about living beings. Their struggles. But also their potential to be more than who they were raised to be. 

He was far from mundane. Viktor was more than who he thought himself to be. In your eyes he was far better than perfect. There wasn’t a word for how you perceived him. Because every word seemed minimal in comparison to what you felt.  

“You found your muse?” You hear your professor behind you. You glare down at your paper then up to them. “What? No, look at this.” You express, lifting up the sketch and shaking it dramatically. “I am. It seems you found it.” They place a gentle hand upon your shoulder. 

You drew a crowd. Just like your millions upon millions of paintings posted on your instagram. How is a crowd of people your muse? Your eyebrows knit together and you look up to Dr. Shoola once more. “This is just a random sketch?” You say in more of a question. You were confused. You drew this often, but it’s not your muse. 

“You’re a silly one, [Name].” They pat your shoulder, moving onto Ekko’s sketch in front of you. Your eyes land back at the sheet of paper. Found your muse? Where?

You observed your own drawing. What are you not seeing?

This is short, I did it on purpose because twelve and thirteen are going to be longer. :) And honestly I do have a concussion and this took me hours. I probably shouldn't have been on my laptop the way I was but I had to post thisssss.

Two more chapters left.

Taglist: @policedeer @ang3lz-lov3 @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @confusedgemposts @corpsepies @almostdrowningdown @obittwo @ren-ni @xx-siren-sings-xx @donnie-is-here @urmommt

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: this decrepit pervert is back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’re restless. What’s worse, is you have no energy. You never really do. Living is the most exhausting thing you’ve ever done. 

You lean in the window sill, half hunched as you stare out at the suburban street. It’s a nice neighbourhood. Your mother lives in a condo, on one of the highest floors. You hate it. This place isn’t so bad. It’d be nice if it was just you. 

That last thought makes you sad. You don’t know that you’ll ever be able to be alone. You hate being such a burden. What you hate most, is feeling like you’re on a leash. Sometimes literally as your oxygen tube keeps you bound to the tank. 

All your existence, there’s been something wrong with you. In high school, it got so much worse. You didn’t even realise until your mother pointed it out. Then the appointments doubled, the tests too, and it never stopped. Will it ever? 

You’re trapped in a holding pattern. If living is so difficult, should you even try? That’s a bad thought but you can’t help it. You see your mom, you see Andy, and they don’t need all these medicines or this thing to breathe for them. They have lived full lives, they have jobs and a home. You have nothing. 

You turn away from the window. The tall trees and peaked rooftops are no longer so beautiful. They’re just another reminder of everything you don’t and will never have. 

A knock at the door startles you. You cross the room and inch it open. You peer out, disappointed to find Andy again. How long is your mom going to sleep? 

“Hey, sweetheart, I was thinking you might want to come with me. It's pretty quiet around here,” he says. 

“Come with... where?” You rasp. 

“I was going to go to the pharmacy and get your script filled, like your mom said,” he explains and holds up the doctor’s paper. “Found it in her purse.” 

“Oh, uh...” you hesitate. You don’t know what to do. That he’s even asking makes you feel obligated. “Sure, I... okay.” 

“Take your time, I’ll warm the car up,” he assures you. “Anything I can help with?” 

“No, sir, I’ll grab my bag.” 

You shut the door before he can respond. You pause and feel bad. You hope that didn’t seem intentional. You go and grab your belt bag. You check that everything is in it, then drag your tank back to the door. 

You come out and the hall is empty. You go around to the bathroom and rinse off your face. You don’t have a toothbrush so you use your finger to spread some paste around your teeth and rinse your mouth. You’re overly aware of your day-old outfit. You do what you can for your hair then resign yourself to being the same mess you always are. 

You take the stairs slowly. One at a time as you prevent the wheels of the tank from thumping. Andy’s house is so nice, you don’t want to ruin it. You get to the front door and pull on your jacket. You put on your sneakers and awkwardly angle out the front door. 

The SUV whirs in the driveway. Before you can get to the first step, Andy is there. He helps with the tank and sets it on the flat ground. You quickly take the handle and thank him. 

“You alright?” He asks. You wish he wouldn’t be so worried. Your mother doesn’t ever ask, only if it’s for show. 

“Fine,” you assure him. 

You roll the tank past him and he calls after you as you get to the SUV. “Hey, you don’t gotta sit in the back.” 

“Uh, right,” you say. 

You go around to the passenger door and he opens it for you. Once again, he lifts the tank. Before you can react, he does the same to you. You lurch up into the seat and wriggle until he lets you go. He doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort. 

You sit straight and steady the tank between your knees. He shuts the door and you get the seatbelt clicked in. As he climbs in the other side, you take out your vaseline and smear it under your nose. It’s particularly raw this morning. 

“Shoot, is that from the AC? I can turn it down.” 

“No, it’s... okay,” you stare through the windshield. You want to get this done and over with. Your brows furrow at the thought of your mom waking up to the empty house. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks. 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“You look worried,” he says. 

“I... my mom. She’s in rough shape.” 

“Hungover,” he clucks, “it’s a good thing you don’t take after her with that.” 

You nod, not sure what to say. He does up his seatbelt and checks the mirrors. He shifts and backs out of the driveway. 

“Feel free to put on some music. I don’t think you want to listen to my oldies,” he chuckles. 

“It’s okay,” you hug yourself with one arm, your other hand on the tank. 

The silence buzzes in your ears. It’s too late now to change your mind. Besides, you’re so indecisive about your music. You wouldn’t exactly brag about your taste either. 

The drive stretches on as you huddle into the door, distracting yourself with the passing light poles, houses, and so on. You don’t know this area. It’s not anywhere near your usual pharmacy. You often wait in the car when you do go with your mom. 

He pulls up along the curb and park. It’s a nice quaint street in the neighbourhood. There’s a park on the corner and an organic store on the opposite side. You peek out at the local pharmacy’s moniker, hand-painted unlike glowing banner of the department store where your mom usually goes. 

“Should be able to get this filled,” he says as he shuts off the engine. 

You just nod and hum. He gets out quickly, easily. You envy that. You can’t do anything easily. He comes around as you push the door open. He once more brings down your tank but you’re certain to climb out on your own. You nearly stagger as you do. 

You wheel out of the way as he closes the door. You look around at the other pedestrians. A woman with a stroller, a family just across the way babbling in glee. You turn away before the scene can make you morose. 

Andy leads you to the pharmacy door and pulls it open with a chime. He lets you in first. There’s only a few aisles inside, the pharmacist’s counter is at the back, another till near the front where they sell chocolates and candy. 

You linger until Andy points you down the center row. You go ahead of him and stop before the long counter. He unfolds the prescription as he greats the man behind it boldly. Good mornings and niceties you struggle to get right. 

“Hm, we have these on hand but it’ll be a wait. Been a busy morning,” the pharmacist explains. 

“That’s fine, we can keep ourselves busy.” Andy says. You squirm. You can? Waiting that long will only add to the tension that makes your chest even tighter. 

You back up as he turns around. He looks around for a moment, as if he thinks you wondered off, then smiles at you. “There’s a cafe across the street, how about it?” 

“I don’t... drink coffee,” you say. 

“I know, sweetheart, I remember,” he gently strokes your shoulder, “they have tea, too. Or smoothies. You must be hungry too.” 

“I... if you want to, I guess...” you shrug. 

“You know, I’m not your mom. I won’t say no,” he intones. “You don’t have to be so nervous.” 

“I know, I... I’m sorry.” 

“And you don’t need to be sorry,” he counters. 

You almost apologise again, only to fill your cheeks with air and nod. You feel like you should be though. Like everything you do is a disappointment. 

You go back down the middle aisle. Andy reaches past you to hold the door again. You come out and narrowly avoid a collision. You wait for the family of three to pass by before Andy nudges you to the curb. He takes your free hand as he tugs you with him, jaywalking through the lazy traffic. 

The effort is enough to make your head spin. You get your wheels over the other curb and sway. Andy doesn’t let go. He takes you past the patio area of the cafe and swings back the door before he releases you, pointing you within. 

The smell of coffee, the grind of a machine, and the chatter of diners greets you. You wait behind the two teenage girls at the counter as Andy comes up next to you. He stands close but you assume it’s because it’s such a tight space. 

“Do you want to find somewhere to sit?” He wonders. 

“No, I’m okay,” you say. 

“Sure, uh, so what do you want?” 

You look up at the hand-written menu. You might get a tea after all. 

“The brioche egg sandwich is one of my favourites,” he says. 

“You come here... a lot?” You wonder. 

“Sure. I like to run in the mornings. I’ll grab a coffee on my cool down. And weekends I’ll have breakfast. Your mom’s usually still asleep if she’s around,” he tuts. 

“Right, uh... that sounds fine. Brioche.” 

The girls go to the further end of the counter and Andy waves you forward. The barista greets him by name. She’s very pretty. She has amber coloured braids with a zigzag pattern and cute freckles over her cheeks. You want to ask how she did her hair like that but you don’t want to be rude. 

“Andy, how are you?” She chirps in recognition. 

“Good, we were just walking through the neighbourhood,” he says,  You adjust the tube under your nose self-consciously. The barista is gorgeous and reminds you of everything you’re not. 

“Oh, is this your fiancee?” She asks. “She’s finally come around.” 

Andy chuckles and you blanch. He doesn’t offer a protest and neither do you. You wait for him to correct her. He doesn’t. 

“Sweetheart, what did you want to drink?” He looks at you and you nearly choke. 

“Can I have the pomegranate tea, please?” Even your voice sounds ugly. 

“Sure, what size, hon?” 

“Small,” you croak out. 

“Small pomegrante, and your usual?” She asks Andy. 

“Yep, and two of the brioche breakfast sandwiches. Oh, and something sweet for dessert. Those cherry tarts look delicious,” he points to the display.” 

“Got it, anything else?” She taps the till screen. 

“That’s it,” he slips out his card and waits. He selects a tip amount before he taps, the machine beeping in acceptance. You spy the total right before it disappears. Oh, that’s expensive. 

“I’ll bring it to you, Andy,” she smiles brightly, “you two enjoy.” 

Andy takes your hand again before you can react. He brings you to the table and you sit across from him, right by the window. You feel like you’re on display. You hate it. 

You push the tube into your nose as you think then trail your hand down the length. You stare off into the distance. You don’t know, it feels weird. It feels like he’s doing too much. Like maybe he feels bad for you. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” He interrupts your trance. 

You flinch and look at him, then avert your gaze to the table. 

“You didn’t...” you begin then shake your head. 

“What?” He prompts. 

“Nothing.” 

“Go on, sweetie, you don’t have to be shy with me. You can say whatever you need,” he leans forward as he crosses his arms over the table, “you know, your mom told me you’ve never really had a father figure. I’m here to help, to support you.” 

You nod and pick at your dry lip then stop yourself, hiding your hands under the table. “You-- that woman... she thought I—that we—you didn’t say no.” 

“Oh, I didn’t want to embarrass her,” he laughs. “It’s funny, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah...” you nod at your lap. “It is really... funny. No one would really want to marry me.” 

You cover your mouth as the thought slips out. You shake your head. Why did you say it? 

“Huh? Sweetheart?” He leans in even closer, “you don’t think that’s true, do you?” 

You shrug and peel your hand away, chewing on your sleeve as you slump low in your seat. 

“You’re a nice girl. Pretty too.” 

“I’m not,” you murmur into your cuff. “You don’t have to lie.” 

“Well who says you’re not?” He urges. You shake your head again. 

“Your mother?” He suggests. You shake your head harder. She would be livid if you told him that she did. He clicks his tongue, “well, however it is, don’t listen to them.” He reaches across to you, “hey, sweetheart, look at me.” You obey, trembling in humiliation, “you are very pretty.” 

[notlongtolove]

into the rose garden; for evermore

months of hope, weeks of ache. you’ve stayed. you’ve waited. you’ve stayed in the waiting. more pathetic than poetic if you’re being honest. but now, with him standing here with his heart in his hands, it doesn’t feel simple. this work is part of the burnt norton series

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst... with an ending

content: situationship core, fighting, tears, sad...

word count: 5.5k

note: thank you for all the love on the burnt norton series! i hope you enjoy this last and final part (make sure to read allll the way to the end for something special inspired by this!)

a line: You knew you were tied to a fate of loving hard first, crying harder later.

Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. My words echo Thus, in your mind. - t.s. eliot

It was quiet, but Spencer heard it all the same.

“I love you.”

The confession was as delicate as it was sacred. A soft, almost fragile, wisp of a sound that left your lips. 

His breath stilled before coming out in a shaky exhale as your hand curled around his. He swallowed and wished he could unhear it. Unknow it. But Spencer Reid has always been cursed with knowing things he wished he didn’t.

He’d tried not to notice at first. The way your gaze still lingered on him, how your voice still softened with every call of his name.

Of course, he’d known. And then he’d tried to forget.

When you’d suggested being friends instead—your voice trembling but determined—Spencer had known then that he should’ve walked away. He’d read enough, lived enough, to know how this would end. They said if you could still be friends with someone after loving them, it meant only one of two things: either you had never truly loved them, or you still did.

Spencer knew it wasn’t the former. He was many things—awkward, fractured, clumsy with feelings—but he wasn’t a liar. 

And he loved you like it hurt him.

He had tried to kick the habit of you. Tried to drag out the time between phone calls and texts, tried to wean himself off the need to see your smile, hear your laugh, feel your lips on his. He’d told himself that he was being kind, that this distance he built between you was mercy. He knew it was cruel to keep stringing you along, holding on to you even as he kept you at arm’s length—but he wasn’t selfish enough to pretend he deserved you. 

And so, while you stayed, wanting, waiting, Spencer ran.

Not because he didn’t love you. But because he didn’t know how to stay without breaking you in the process.

Thursday had come and gone. No text, no call. You weren’t phased, not at first, telling yourself the case ran long. It was a willing suspension of disbelief—that he was buried in reports and unsteady sleep, lost in the same work that had stolen him all the times before. 

But then Friday arrived. Time dragged, slow and heavy, as each second passed. The news alerts, spam calls, and junk messages that lit up your screen mocked you relentlessly. The silence of Saturday and Sunday wasn’t any better, each minute unbearably long. Before you knew it, it had been a week since you’d last heard from him, since you’d seen even the faintest ghost of Spencer Reid.

Your friends didn’t ask questions. They didn’t bother prying, all too happy to fill in the blanks themselves. “Good riddance,” one of them had said over drinks one night. You laughed with them, too loud, a sound that didn’t quite belong to you. “About time you let that one go.” And you let them believe that was the truth.

You didn’t fill them in on the part where you’d been the one left hanging, the one Spencer had walked away from without a word. You let them believe you were the strong one, the sensible one, that you’d cut the cord and been better for it. You swallowed that truth alone bitterly because you couldn’t bear their pity. If Spencer wanted to close the door on you, you weren’t about to break your nails bloody clawing it back open. You’d already stood there, holding it wide for him, time and time again.

But in the quiet of the night, your bed empty and cold, anger and sadness slipped in through the cracks. They sat at the edge of your bed like unwanted guests, familiar and persistent, whispering the same questions you had no answers to. “What had changed?” Sadness wept, her shoulders shaking between sobs. “What had you done wrong?” Anger screamed, louder, harsher, her tongue lashing. 

Each thought was a page torn from you, words unsaid thrown into the fire. Vulnerable and wasted—they could only have ever been meant for him. You hated yourself for it. And, for a fleeting second, you hated him too. He was gone. You were still here—waiting, always waiting. But you’d known all along that the flash of his badge, the weight of the gun on his hip, could never have compared to the significance of you. 

In a way, you would’ve been right. Spencer’s work—his pride, his passion, his relentless devotion—It was all-consuming, yes, and it could never compare to you. 

Nothing could compare to you.

You were it for him. 

He knew it from the way sleep came so easily in your presence, his body finally surrendering to the peace and security he felt only in your arms. You were a quiet reprieve he could find nowhere else. He knew it from the way his heart had splintered when he’d heard you crying, the sounds of your sniffles fracturing something inside him. He couldn’t even bring himself to turn on the light. It would’ve been too unbearable, too painful, to face the sight of tears on your face. 

To Spencer, you were the light at the end of a tunnel he’d stopped trying to run through years ago. He loved you for it—God, did he love you for it. But it was a light he didn’t think he deserved to reach.

And that terrified him more than anything. 

Spencer wasn’t made for softness. He knew that. Whatever pieces of him had once been smooth and whole were long gone. He wasn’t the kind of man who could give you love letters or lazy Sundays with whispered promises. He was sleepless nights and cold coffee reheated three times over. He was restless hands and a mind constantly bracing for the next worst thing to happen. His time at the BAU had turned him into something broken and jagged. The last thing he wanted was to ruin you, too. 

Because you, his sweet girl—soft, bright, and unshakably steady—you were everything he wasn’t. You didn’t need that. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved someone better, someone less damaged, someone who didn’t need you just to keep from sinking. 

Maybe you’d found that in him. He was a friend of a co-worker of a friend of a cousin of a—wherever he came from, you hadn’t bothered to remember. He wasn’t Spencer. 

This is your third date. Date. The word itself felt like a foreign concept. It carried a weight of certainty you’d never had before. With Spencer, there were no real beginnings, no clear endings—just nights out cut short, nights in cloaked in secrecy. A thing you never dared—or perhaps in Spencer’s case, cared—to truly define. 

“I’d love to see you again,” he’d said, his voice solidly steady. “How’s Friday?”

“Friday’s fine,” you replied.

And when Friday came, so did he. On time, standing at your door with a smile that was easy to read, so uncomplicated, so un-Spencerlike. You’d gotten dinner, had a walk in the park, stopped by the little ice cream parlour you’d always wanted to take Spencer to. It was all exactly what you’d said it would be. Perfectly and predictably fine.

He dropped a piece of his waffle cracker onto the table, then casually blew it off and popped it into his mouth.

“Five-second rule, right?” he grinned.

“You know, actually, germs can transfer in less than—” 

You hated the fact that Spencer was still playing on your mind. You hated the fact that you knew you weren’t on his more. You caught yourself, then shrugged, laughing it off.

“Forget it, I do it too.”

You tried to forget it. To forget him. It’d been almost 3 weeks since you’d last seen Spencer at this point. Anger and sadness hadn’t left entirely. They lingered, silent but present. You could feel them, but they were easier to ignore now—especially with a new warmth beside you at night, an easy distraction from the quiet ache.

But then, nostalgia came. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. No, she was more insidious than that. 

She sat, cool and poised, on your kitchen counter, watching you with a sickeningly gentle gaze. “Remember how he used to help with the dishes after dinner? He’d wash them twice-over just because he knew you liked them that way. This one doesn't do that, does he? Doesn’t even know.” Her words stung, and they didn’t stop there. "Why didn’t you tell him? Why haven’t you told him?"

You don’t know why. 

Sometimes, nostalgia grew meaner. She waltzed through the house, taking root in all the places you thought you’d exorcised him from. She rested on your dresser, her voice soft but biting. “You’re really going to wear that out with him? He bought it for you, remember? It still smells like him.​​" Her tone sharpened. "Don’t be cruel.”

You weren’t trying to be. 

Still, as you turned to leave the room, you caught the faintest flicker of a thought—Nostalgia’s quiet, treacherous whisper as she lingered in the doorway. “He’s not him.”

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. 

It definitely wasn’t fair for Spencer either when he saw you that day, walking down your street with your hands tucked into your pockets and another’s arm casually draped around your waist. It felt cruel, really. He hadn’t meant to be there. He’d only come to drop off your key. But fate, it seemed, had other plans—a twist and shove of the knife already buried hilt-deep in his chest.

The guy next to you looked stupid, so fucking stupid. There was no other way to put it. Spencer hated everything about him—his stupid fucking face, his stupid fucking hair, and his stupid fucking suit that probably smelled like the overpriced cologne Morgan used to wear. 

Spencer decided to call him Stupid Fucking Bob. It felt appropriate. Cathartic, even.

Stupid Fucking Bob was tall. Taller than most. Not taller than Spencer, though, which gave him the tiniest, pettiest flicker of satisfaction. But it didn’t last. Not when you threw your head back and laughed at something Stupid Fucking Bob had said, your eyes crinkling in that way Spencer knew all too well. 

Stupid Fucking Bob had the audacity to be dressed like he had his life together. A crisp, ironed button-up shirt, perfectly tailored that was worlds away from Spencer’s own casual, comfortable style. His whole look screamed refined—the kind of guy who probably ironed his perfectly matching pair of socks and knew the difference between champagne and prosecco. He’s nothing like Spencer. 

Maybe Stupid Fucking Bob, with his stupid suit and stupid gelled hair was exactly what you needed now. Maybe he was a lawyer. Or a doctor. Something respectable and put-together. Someone who wouldn’t cancel dinners at the last minute or drag you to niche bookstores for fun.

Your hair was braided. That hit him first. He’s never seen you wear it like that before, and it felt like a punch to the gut. And your makeup? You looked beautiful. Well, you were always beautiful, but today you looked different in a way that made his heart ache. The heels on your feet—When had you started wearing heels? Or maybe you always did. He wouldn’t know, he’d never been with you anywhere formal enough to warrant anything beyond casual slides or sneakers. It all hit him harder than he expected.

Spencer turned away, swallowing hard against the bile rising in his throat. He needed to leave. The ache burned, spreading through his chest like wildfire, scorching every inch of him. He couldn’t do this. Not here. Not now. 

But fate seemed to smirk and snapped her fingers.

“Spencer?”

Fuck.

He took a deep breath, forcing it past the lump in his throat, and tried to steady his breathing. His hands carried a slight tremor, and he shoved them into his pockets, curling them into fists. He managed to muster a smile—strained, but passable.

“Hey!” he said, wincing as his voice came out a little too loud, a little too eager. 

“Wow,” you replied, your tone warm but surprised, “I haven’t seen you in—”

“Yeah,” Spencer interrupted quickly, his words tumbling over yours. “We, um, we had a big case.” He let out a short laugh, the kind he’d learned to recognise when suspects were trying to fill the silence with empty words.

You shifted your weight, hesitating for just a second before gesturing to the man standing beside you. “Oh, um, sorry—this is my, uh, friend, he’s…” Stupid Fucking Bob leaned forward, offering a polite, firm handshake.

But before he could reach Spencer, you stepped in, leaning over to stop him. “Oh, Spencer doesn’t…” you said softly. The way your hand gently rested on his arm wasn’t lost on Spencer. Whatever stupid fucking name he gave, Spencer couldn’t hear it over the static in his head. 

Spencer couldn’t decide which was worse—the way you stepped in so instinctively, a painful reminder of how well you still knew him, or the way you were touching Stupid Fucking Bob, like you were starting to know him too. You’d called him a friend. He can’t be anything more than that, right? But the hesitation before you said the word told Spencer otherwise. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spencer muttered through gritted teeth, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. It was the polite thing to do, even though his palms were clammy, and Spencer couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes for more than a second. 

You were looking at him, your expression unreadable. Spencer hated that. And Stupid Fucking Bob just stood there, calm and composed in a way that made Spencer want to throw something. 

Spencer hated Bob. Fuck, he hated Bob. Spencer hated the way his hand rested casually on your lower back, a touch that was so possessive, like it belonged there. But more than Bob, Spencer hated the way you didn’t pull away.

“So, uh,” you said, clearing your throat, “just in the neighbourhood?”

Spencer nodded stiffly, his hands still buried in his pockets, fingers curling tight around nothing. “Yeah, I uh, had some errands to run,” he said, trying and failing to sound casual.

You nodded back, your smile polite but tight, “Yeah, same here—”

“We were just grabbing lunch,” Stupid Fucking Bob cut in, his voice too cheerful, too comfortable. Oh my god, shut the fuck up, Bob. Spencer's jaw tightened, his molars grinding together. 

We.

The word reverberated through his skull. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Right, right,” he said, nodding a little too much, as if that would make the whole thing easier to digest. It didn’t.

“I um, don’t want to keep you from your lunch,” Spencer finally said, his voice tight, his words clipped. He glanced at you, but only for a moment. “I should... I should get going. Errands and… other things.” He motioned vaguely over his shoulder, like there was somewhere he desperately needed to be. There wasn’t.

You hesitated, and for a brief moment, it looked like you might say something. But then Stupid Fucking Bob shifted beside you, his hand brushing against your back once more, and the words died on your lips.

Watching Spencer walk away felt like betrayal at its sharpest, love at its most humiliating.

It wasn’t fair that you had put yourself through the quiet torment of watching, staying, hoping—only for it all to come to nothing. It wasn’t fair that you allowed yourself to feel, to be seen in all your vulnerability, just to have Spencer walk away as if none of it had ever mattered. 

I’ll stay, if he stays. It was your unspoken promise to yourself and your silent plea to him. 

But he hadn’t stayed. 

So it wasn’t fair that you were still here, while he got to walk away. It wasn’t fair, but you let him go regardless.

Because Spencer’s absence had given your life a strange kind of regularity, one you tried to see the best in. You leaned into it, telling yourself it was what you needed. It was a new kind of normalcy. You should’ve liked it, and you did like it. 

At least you told yourself you did.

Three days later, it was a work party that finally unravelled you. Maybe it was the way your coworkers shared plans for the holidays, futures they seemed so certain of, the kind of dreaming you’d stopped allowing to indulge in. Or maybe it was the wine—too much of it, too quickly. Probably the wine. Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you locked the door behind you and leaned against the sink, staring at the girl looking back at you in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair slightly tousled, her smile looked convincing enough. She looked alive, happy even—But you didn’t quite feel like her. 

Your fingers found your phone, scrolling aimlessly until they stopped, hovering over a name. It was instinctive, thoughtless. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you pressed call. “Could you come get me?” A pause, then softer, almost pleading. “Please?”

The party had dwindled to a quiet murmur by the time you stood waiting by the street. You nudged your coworkers along, promising them you’d be alright. 

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” one of them asked, concern flashing across her face.

“I’m fine,” you assured her, waving her off. “I’m waiting for someone.”

You had someone now. Someone dependable. That felt good, right? It was what you deserved. Dependable was good. Dependable was safe. But when you glanced up, sobriety crashed through your buzzed haze in an instant. It wasn’t dependability that greeted you. 

“Spencer?” His name escapes your lips in a whisper, disbelief catching in your throat. “What are you—”

“You called me.” 

Your stomach twists. “I… I did?”

“You did,” he nodded, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. The screen lit up with your call log, stark and undeniable. Your eyes flicked back to him—his hair slightly dishevelled, his coat hanging open. He looked like he’d rushed out the door. Your chest tightens, the ache returning in full force.

All you can think is, Oh God. I called the wrong him.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. Your heart hammers away in your chest as your gaze darts toward the street, desperate for a cab. “I didn’t mean to call—You can go. You should go.”

Spencer’s brow furrows, something unreadable crossing his face. “I’m already here,” he says, “Let me walk you home.” “I—” Your voice is soft, tentative. You hesitate. The choice should be simple. He’s already here. He’s offering to walk you home. There’s nothing inherently wrong with it. And yet, this feels wrong. You despise the fact that it does. You shouldn’t say it. You know you shouldn’t. But the silence between you is unbearable, and his presence feels impossibly close. “Okay,” you murmur, the word slipping out before you can stop it. Suddenly it feels more than wrong. It feels like surrender. 

The night feels colder than it should as the two of you start walking. The silence stretches, long and awkward, until finally, he speaks.

“I’m glad you called me.” 

Your stomach twists. “I didn’t mean to.”

His footsteps falter for just a moment, and when you glance at him, his gaze is sharp, questioning. “Me?”

“What?” you stammer, the word barely forming on your lips.

“You didn’t mean to call me?” His eyes lock onto yours, searching for something. They demand an answer you’re not ready to give. The question hangs in the air between you but the weight of his gaze has you pinned in place.

“I—yes, I didn’t—” You stumble over your words, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Spencer watches you carefully, his eyes never leaving you, “You didn’t mean to, but you called me.”

Your breath shakes as you let out a long exhale. Finally, you whisper, “Yes. I did.”

“That guy,” He leans in just a little, his expression hardening. “Was he who you meant to call?”

You swallow and nod slowly, the answer burning in your throat. The reluctant admission feels raw as something flashes across Spencer’s face—Annoyance? Jealousy? You can’t hold his gaze long enough to tell. “What is he? Your boyfriend?” he mutters when you come to stop at a traffic light. His words strike a match, igniting a quiet anger within you. 

“That’s none of your business,” you shoot back, your voice more defensive than you intended. It wasn’t so much that you needed to defend him—it was more about defending this new part of your life, the one where Spencer wasn’t there, the one where his absence hadn’t completely consumed you. A shred of proof that shows you can stand without Spencer. 

That you are whole without him.

The silence that continues to stretch between you is heavy and suffocating. You silently curse the city for its sudden and inconvenient lack of cabs. Typical. The universe has always had twisted sense of humour.

“You know you don’t actually like him.” Spencer says under his breath. 

“Oh, what the hell do you know?” You burst out. Without thinking, you step forward into the street. The light hasn’t turned green, but the road is clear, and Spencer’s presence is clawing at your throat. You need to do something, anything to get away from it.

Spencer’s hand shoots out, his fingers curling firmly around your wrist. You whip around to face him, anger simmering beneath you. His expression is calm, infuriatingly so, though there’s a flicker of disapproval in his eyes. “I know you,” he says, like he’s daring you to deny it.

“No,” you snap, shrugging his hand off your arm with a sharp jerk. The movement feels more like self-defense than defiance. You press the traffic light button repeatedly, a little too hard each time, even though it’s already lit. It’s a pointless gesture, but it gives your restless hands something to focus on. “You don’t know anything.”

“I do.” His voice was maddeningly steady, calm in a way that made something inside you snap. “I know your hair was braided that day because you probably hadn’t washed it the day before. You hate washing your hair.”

“Just—” You shake your head, voice breaking. “Stop talking.”

“I know those heels definitely hurt your feet,” he continues, relentless, “but you wore them anyway. Probably because you think he likes them.”

“Spencer, stop.” You’re trying to hold it together, to keep the tears at bay, but they come anyway.

“I know—”

“God, Spencer, stop it!” The words explode out of you. “You don’t know shit,” you snap, wiping furiously at your cheeks, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Just—Just fuck off!” 

Spencer visibly flinches, but only slightly. The traffic light changes to green, but neither of you move to cross. “You—” Your chest heaves as you pull in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. You close your eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly, “You should go.”

“Is that really what you want?” 

His question feels like mockery. What does it matter what you want? It clearly never mattered before, and it certainly won’t matter now.

You’d always been a bit of a hopeless romantic. You liked to believe that love, no matter how complicated or painful, was worth it. Maybe that was the only way you could make sense of the pain no one asked you to endure, a way to quantify the heartbreak Spencer never asked you to feel. You told yourself it had to serve some greater purpose, even when that purpose had yet to reap any kind of reward.

You tried to convince yourself that staying was a decision made from a place of independence, that your willingness to endure was an admirable strength born from the innate human need to love, and of wanting to be loved in return. But you knew it ran deeper than just that. You knew that you didn’t deserve this pain, but you also knew you’d never be the one to let go first. Your mother used to tell you that relationships only work if one person loves harder, and you’d realised early on that that person would always be you. 

You knew you were tied to a fate of loving hard first, crying harder later. 

And in that, it would never be fair. 

“Why are you doing this?” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest. 

Spencer pauses. When he speaks again, his voice is softer—but no less cutting. “You’re lying to yourself,” he says quietly. “And to him.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you turn sharply, starting to walk. “Oh, I get it,” you said, a scoff lacing your tone. “You’re trying to play matchmaker now? Is that what this is about?” You fold your arms across your chest, tugging at your jacket, a feeble attempt to hide yourself from the hurt he so effortlessly unearthed.

“This isn’t about him.” he says firmly. “This is about you—about us.”

“There is no us,” you spit as you turn to face him momentarily. “Remember?”

“You’re acting out.”

“Wow, real mature Spence,” you snap, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “They teach you that in FBI school? You think just because I’m finally happy—finally not waiting around for you—that means I’m acting like a petty, jealous child?”

“No, I think you’re acting out because you’re hurt.”

“Oh, yeah? Gee, I wonder why.”

“Because I didn’t say it back.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The world stops. The air seems to freeze around you. For a moment, you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move. A car speeds by, its horn blaring. Spencer reacts immediately, stepping to position himself between you and the flow of any other oncoming traffic like a barrier.

“What are you—Don’t just stop—” His hand grips your arm firmly, tugging you toward the sidewalk. But your feet refuse to move, rooted in place, and you barely register his words. “Would you—would you get off the street?” he says urgently. You can’t do anything but stare at him. 

“You heard me?”

His expression softens. “I did. That night.” Spencer’s voice is quieter now, almost a whisper. “I heard you.”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. The glow of the traffic light pulses in the corner of your vision, steadily blinking. Sadness swells in your chest, but it’s overtaken by something sharper, hotter, darker. 

Rage. Inexplicable, undeniable rage.

“You heard me.” You whisper, more so to yourself than to him. “You heard me, and you still—” The tears choke out the rest of the sentence. “Don’t,” you snap, stepping back when he tugs at you again. “Don’t touch me. Don’t—Just go. Please just go.” You turn away from him, your legs carrying you as far as they can, as fast as they can. You don’t even know where you’re headed anymore, only that you need to keep moving. But you hear Spencer behind you, his steps matching your pace. 

“I’m not leaving you here.” Another faint brush of his fingers grazes yours sends you spinning back around, wrenching your hand away as if his touch burns.

“But you did!” you scream, your voice raw. Your grief echoes in the stillness of the street. The two of you are locked in some heartbreaking tableau. It feels almost cinematic—the age-old story of a girl who loved and a boy who didn’t. “You already left, Spencer! You heard me, and you still left!” 

Spencer’s face crumples, and for a moment, he looks as lost as you feel. “I didn’t know what to do,” his words tumble out, his voice breaking. “I—”

“You could’ve stayed! You could’ve said it back! You—” You shake your head, swallowing the grief that rises in your throat, the words too painful to say out loud. 

“I do,” he says suddenly, stepping in front of you. “I love you. I do. I love you. So much.” he repeats, his hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach for you but knows better. “I love you too.” 

That last word—too—cuts through you. It lands with a cruel finality. It should soothe the ache inside you, but it doesn’t. It’s not the solace it should be. It’s only a bitter reminder that he heard you that night. That he left anyway.

“Then why?” The question comes out in a broken whisper, and you hate yourself for how vulnerable it sounds. “Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t even try—” you whisper through your tears. “You just… left.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you—I was scared that I would,” he says, the words tumbling out in a rush as he reaches for your hands in an effort to ground himself. “I didn’t want to screw things up even more. I thought if I left—you’d be better off.”

“Oh, fuck off, Spencer. Look at us. Look at me. Is this what you call better off?” You stand there, unmoving, tears streaking down your face, each one a testament to your heartbreak. The sight of you, raw and broken, makes something deep inside him fracture.

“You hurt me anyway.” Your voice shakes with unspent grief and fury.

“I know, I know I did, baby—”

"Don’t call me that!" you snap, your heart clenching at the word. You try to pull your hands out of his grip, away from his touch, but he holds on.

“Baby—shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” Spencer says, his voice cracking. He shuts his eyes for a moment, furrowing his brows, as if trying to collect himself. “I know I fucked up. I know. I’m just—” He exhales shakily. “I’m trying to fix this. Look at me. Please. Just... please.”

You can’t look at him. You focus on the floor, on anything to avoid his eyes, because if you see that pleading expression, you just might break—You’ll shatter all over again.

“That guy?” Spencer’s voice pulls you back, quiet and desperate. “He doesn’t know anything about you. I knew it the minute I saw him. He said you were going to lunch? You hate everything on your street within a five-mile radius. That’s why we always ordered Chinese. Right?” 

Every word he out of his mouth feels like a plea and what’s worse is that you know he’s right. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice breaking. “I was stupid. I didn’t think. I thought leaving was the right thing—that I was protecting you from me. But I see now—I know now. It wasn’t. It was the worst thing I could’ve done. To you. To us. I was wrong.” His voice drops, barely audible. “And I just want a chance to make it right. Please I—”

You hear the break in his voice, and before you can stop yourself, your gaze lifts to meet his, only to see tears pooling in his eyes. The ache in your chest deepens, and this time, you can’t look away.

“Look,” Spencer says, voice cracking, “he’s probably a great guy. Nice, smart—smarter than I ever was if he wants you too. But he doesn’t—” He pauses, swallowing hard, “He can’t love you the way I do. I know people always say I’m smart, that I know a lot. And it’s true—I do. But this? You? Loving you? It’s a fact, the clearest one I’ve ever had. And yeah, I know it took me too damn long to get here. But it’s true. It’s always been true.”

The chasm in your heart splits open, and you didn’t know you were still capable of breaking like this. Of course, Spencer Reid would be good at heartbreaking speeches too. You start to turn away, furiously blinking back the new wave of tears threatening to spill over. 

“Look at me,” he pleads, his voice soft but laced with urgency. “Please. I hate that you won’t look at me, I just—”

You try—God knows you try—but the tears in your eyes blur everything. Still, the desperation in his tone is unmistakable. 

You shake your head, your voice low, “Spence—”

“I want to do this right,” he continues, his words tumbling out with sincerity so raw it sends another wave of hurt right through you. “Just give me a chance to make it right. One chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“I don’t—”

“I mean it,” he says quickly. His voice is low, but there’s a desperate edge to it. “No more mistakes. No more labels—forget the friends thing. I’d rather die than just be friends with you. We’ll go out. We’ll take our time. I’ll show you. I’ll really show you. I’ll make it right this time.”

You feel like you’ve spent a lifetime waiting for this moment, for him to say the words you needed most. Months of hope, weeks of ache. You’ve stayed. You’ve waited. You’ve stayed in the waiting. More pathetic than poetic if you’re being honest. But now, with him standing here with his heart in his hands, it doesn’t feel simple. 

Because for the first time, you have a choice. To go back or turn away.

To leave or to stay.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[blueteller]

Out of all the bad people in the story, i dislike Director Ma the most. Reading about krs sitting quietly in his chair trying to get a day off to see cjs & lsh hurt alot. Why do you think krs didnt do anything to get revenge on Ma?

Oh, I absolutely agree. Director Ma is THE WORST. The kind of emotional manipulation this man did to KRS? Disgusting. Utterly repulsive.

I was honestly so glad that it was OG Cale in the side-story and not KRS who heard him say... that, but unfortunately, the fact that Director Ma DARED to try guilt-trip OG Cale!KRS for taking a VACATION of all things, to his face, when we all know that OG KRS was a workaholic who rarely ever took days off? It means this sort of thing wasn't new. For all we know, this could have been a regular occurrence in the office. Not this line specifically, but this… general dismissal of KRS's feelings, while simultaneously taking advantage of his emotions and sense of responsibility. It's the "He's not even crying during a funeral" all over again. Those freaking monsters at the Company, how freaking dare they. Just thinking about it makes me angry.

Now, about your question. Why do you think KRS didn't do anything to get revenge on Director Ma?

I actually considered it in the past. We know Cale is someone perfectly capable of taking revenge and getting even. So why would he let this jerk get away with such behavior when clearly he had enough power in the Company to make a difference?

Here are some of my theories.

One, it could be that Director Ma was useful. You might remember, during the Sealed God's Test arc, Cale mentioned knowing the leaders of the shelters and remembering how he was used to asking them for help and cooperation in the past, with much struggle. Director Ma might have been one of many, many individuals that KRS tolerated "for the greater good". As long as he was only a jerk to KRS as a Team Leader and left his teammates alone, I imagine KRS did not think much about his own hurt. He was too practical. If Director Ma was evil like, let's say, Adin, and was planning harm to other people, Cale certainly would never let it go. But a common… jerk, for the lack of a better word? He could have shrugged it off easily.

Two, maybe it was because Director Ma was a senior. Cale is actually really, really Korean in that aspect. Multiple times in the story Cale had a habit of considering how he should treat his seniors. He even remarked about the White Star that "I don't care if he is a total senior, that guy is a crazy bastard from now on". So, the simple cultural habit of respecting his seniors could be at play here. Yes, Director Ma was way out of line with his words, but those were the words of a senior. So even if Cale understood that it wasn't fair to be treated like this, he might have felt obligated to accept it because of the traditional Korean values of social hierarchy.

Three, maybe it was a sense of helplessness. One of the moments that struck me really hard in the flashback when LSH & CJS died, was the fact that "no one told KRS to wipe his nosebleed". Once KRS lost all his friend, he felt isolated. Without anyone to defend him. Director Ma wasn't the only a**hole he had to deal with on a regular basis in the Company. Perhaps, due to his depression, KRS simply grew used to such disrespectful treatment until he accepted it as a norm. Which is really freaking sad, but I could see it happening. I really do think that transmigration snapped Cale out of a 10-year-long streak of depression and workaholism. …Well, maybe not the second part, heh.

Four, there could be complexities to his relationship with Director Ma. KRS worked over a decade in the Company, after all. Perhaps there was something in their history that made KRS unable to act against him. Blackmail, for example? I don't know what kind of blackmail would work on KRS of all people, but. Perhaps it was simply emotional blackmail. Maybe KRS felt guilty over being Team Leader, because the spot was meant to be inherited by CJS. Maybe Director Ma helped him in the past and KRS felt like he owed him. Who knows? 10 years is a long time.

Here, there's my answer. None of those reasons make Director Ma's treatment of KRS justifiable, of course. But it would explain how such a dumb person avoided getting utterly annihilated... Because we all know Cale could have done it with ease. But relationships between co-workers can be complicated, so.

...Let's all be glad OG Cale got to avenge KRS by simply being himself 😂

[catcze]

I see you miss writing for his grace wriothesley,

Maybe, you can try with, uh,

you who drop by his office everyday, literally everyday whenever the man is by the fortress?

Bringing lunch and always kiss him wherever, be it by the cheeks, temples, forehead, or lips before leaving him alone again to continue his work?

Making him always anticipated for the short moment of solace, making him looking forward to your kisses—?

Only for you suddenly just stopped kissing him and only drop the lunch box, and left him behind. Earning a sad puppy all alone by the office?

You can ignore/delete this if there's already a similar fic of yours with this prompt 🙌🏻

— anywho, have a great day! 💜

!! This is sooo cute? I can just imagine the sorta shocked/hurt puppy dog look he gets on his face when you skip the kiss one day lol TT

Wriothesley is pouting. The man is honest to archons pouting, and you have no idea why.

Ever since you had returned to the fortress from your daily toil at the palais mermonia, your beloved has been huffy and pouting, only giving you curt answers and all but sulking in his chair when you ask him what's wrong. He's wrapped himself up in his paper work rather than wrapping himself up with you, even going so far as to seclude himself in his office during the usual dinnertime.

"I don't know either," Sigewinne whispers to you as you both have dinner in the cafeteria. "He's been like this for the whole afternoon. When I walked into his office after lunch he was sulking in his chair, looking mopey, when he looked completely fine this morning."

The melusine's words scratch a part of your brain, the one that tells you that you forgot something today, but that you're not entirely sure what it is. You wouldn't be surprised if you did, honestly— the palais was jam-packed with things that needed doing, papers that needed moving, and people that needed talking to. In the hustle and bustle of today, it's inevitable for you to miss something.

it all comes to a head after dinner, when you're relaxing in your and Wriothesley's shared quarters. It's late in the evening at this point, and you're already relaxed in the warm bed, a book in your hand as you wait for Wriothesley's sulking to crack and for him to eventually come and tell you what's got him in such a funk.

And it doesn't take long, either— soon enough, the door to your quarters opens and shuts quietly, and your beloved is standing by the bedside, looming over you, still with that pouty expression that, too anyone else, might seem out of character.

He doesn't say anything at first, and neither do you. Instead, you bookmark the last page you were on and set it on your side table before pulling off the blanket and opening your arms— a clear invitation. One that Wriothesley takes immediately, all but dropping into your hold and wrapping his arms around you. He buries his face in your neck, his heavy weight pressing down on your person and pinning you to the bed, but you can't be bothered to really care about that.

With one hand running through his hair, petting him while he holds you, you ask— "Something happen?"

Wriothesley huffs a breath to your neck and the warm air dances on your skin. You can feel his cheeks warm in embarrassment, maybe, as he mumbles something incomprehensible.

"Hm?"

He does it again, and you tug on his hair in retribution, drawing him away from the crook of your neck enough that you hear what he says.

"...didn't kiss me during lunch," the fearsome duke mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes, scowling with embarrassment at his own childish admission.

You blink, turning the words over in your mind as you try to recall the events of today's lunch and— yeah. He's right. Your brain had been so muddled up with things you had to get done once you returned to the palais that you had left his office in a flurry after dropping his lunch off at his desk.

At the realization that that was why he had been pouting and sulky the whole day, you can't help but giggle.

Wriothesley, in turn, scowls at you, even as the flush on his cheeks darken considerably at the admission.

"Oh, I'm sorry my love," you coo once your giggles die down, your cheeks hurting from smiling at how sweet and funny and needy this big scary warden of yours is. "Let me make it up to you, hm?"

Wriothesley is still pouting as your hands weave in his hair and you tug him down, but the expression is quickly wiped off of his face as you make up for lunchtime— you pepper kisses on his forehead, his nose, his temples, his cheeks. Your lips seek out every inch of his face, layering it gently in your amused, endeared affections.

It's only when Wriothesley is smiling softly, melting bonelessly into your embrace and all but humming as you kiss him that you stop, pulling away to grin at him.

"There. I think my debt has been repaid, no?"

[jk-kiwi]

Snowbound

Snowbound (18+)

Characters - bf JK x gf reader (woman) 

Genre - first love troupe, romance, fluff, smut, angst and jealousy, drama, first vacation away, THIS is fiction!

Summary - The emotional journey of a couple who face growing tensions in their relationship during their first winter vacation.

Warnings - jealousy, big arguments, kinda possessive JK, both are 18, first time away from parents, JK snowboarding (is this really a warning? After ‘Are you sure?’ probably yes), implied that reader is shorter than Jungkook, reader is kinda temperamental, fictional characters that might get on your nerves, misunderstandings and mixed feeling, the end might be a little rushed idk.

Warnings for the not so holy parts (18+) - both are pretty inexperienced!, first time, kissing/making out, use of protection!, description of male and female body parts, premature ejaculation, they are pretty clumsy, fingering and oral (f rec), brief bj (like 1 sec), some cockblocking, hickeys.

MINORS PLEASE STAY AWAY!

Author’s note - Pushed matchmaker pt2 away for this one, Christmas is here after all. Merry Christmas everyone! Enjoy!

Word count - 10.2k

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Warm clothes, checked. Toiletries, checked. Some good games to play with your boyfriend, also checked! “Hm, this should be everything!” you say, neatly wrapping the last few items you need, as well as your boyfriend's present, before zipping up your suitcase. “Darling! Are you ready, Jungkook is here!” your mom screams from downstairs making excitement bubble inside you. “Coming!” you exhale relieved looking at your baggage, a small smile drawn on your lips. It’s finally time. Your first vacation alone, only you and your boyfriend.

You grab your suitcase, dragging it behind as you go down the stairs. In front of your door, your mom and Jungkook casually chit chat. He looks up as you appear, his face lighting up, his hands immediately come in help as he picks up your suitcase with ease. “There you go. Are you sure you got everything?” he asks, knowing how clumsy you can be, especially while being so excited about this trip. 

You nod enthusiastically, though a part of you can’t help mentally double-checking. “I think I got everything.” you say with a grin.

“Don’t whine later if you can find your socks, I won’t share.” your mom chuckles at you two, looking with so much love in her eyes. “My kids are all grown up. I still remember that one time you snuck out the window just to see your boy.” “Mom!” you whine while her and Jungkook just laugh. “It’s been four years already, you are 18 now, close to finishing highschool and taking a big step in your lives.” she says in a nostalgic but sad tone, adoringly admiring you two. “And now you are big enough to go somewhere alone.” You sigh slightly, taking your mom into a warm embrace. “It’s not like we will be gone forever, it’s just a 5 day getaway.” Your mom chuckles, her warmth lingering as you pull away. “Still, don’t forget to call everyday!” “And no funny business, understood!” she says with a stern voice, turning to face Jungkook who’s ears grow slightly red. “We will be good kids, don’t worry!” you say while urging the boy out the door. “Alright, go on, have fun! And send pictures!” she yells, her expression softening as she watches the two of you step outside. “When did they grow so much?” she mumbles from the doorway. The car is already warmed up, and you can see Jungkook’s snowboard strapped securely to the roof. “Got your board, huh?” “Well, I’m planning to impress a girl, how else should I do it?” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “You’re such a show off.” He laughs too, before opening the passenger door for you to enter, with quick steps he gets on the other side, entering the driver’s seat. “Alright, let’s go!” he says while taking over the road. The atmosphere was cozy, the radio played Christmas carols while you enjoyed how beautiful the snow was settling onto the ground. You look to your left, admiring Jungkook’s features. The way his voice softly hums along the songs, while focused eyes never break contact with the road ahead. Jungkook glances over at you briefly, catching your gaze for a moment. "What?" he asks with a small, teasing smile. “Nothing, just admiring you.” you laugh, a little embarrassed by being caught so fast.

"It’s perfect, isn’t it? Finally some time away, just the two of us.” The way he says it, so softly, makes your heart flutter a little. You nod, settling back into your seat. “It feels like a dream, to be honest. Never thought our parents would let us go like this.”

Jungkook chuckles softly, his fingers moving to gently rub your thigh. “I know, right? It feels like we’re breaking some rules.” he snickers. “Well, they probably expected this to happen sooner or later, we’ve been together for four years now. They can’t keep us apart anyway.” "But I guess they’ve been waiting for us to grow up too." you tone down your voice and Jungkook nods thoughtfully, his thumb gently brushing against your leg as he keeps his eyes on the road. “I think they trust us enough now.” he says quietly. The atmosphere around you two gets silent. You feel all grown up in a way. It kinda scares you, all these changes. You glance out the window, watching the snowflakes melt onto the glass. It feels like it’s been just yesterday, the day you fell in love with Jungkook. You were both young and stupid, not exactly knowing what love was about, but your friends started experimenting and you felt big enough to enter that path as well. You had rough patches, with ugly crying and fights, but somehow, you both always found a way back to each other. Sweet and memorable moments being much better remembered. Now, as you sit beside him, you realize how far you’ve come. How the kids who once thought that they had love came to the realisation that the meaning itself it’s much deeper. You’re no longer those two teenagers who snuck up every time they got just to share some secret kisses, or the naive couple that got so embarrassed when their parents caught them cuddling way too close on the couch. Now, you’re standing on the edge of adulthood, rushing to enter the last slope of school, and ready to take on what life has to further offer. “Have you got back any response?” “Huh?” you break out of your ‘down the memory lane’ haze, looking at Jungkook, who’s glancing at you with a curious expression. “The early college application?” “Oh, right…no, no answer yet.” you shut down the topic quickly. There’s a pause for a moment as you bite your lip in guilt. Both you and Jungkook were excellent students, because of this you decided to early apply for colleges. He got his response last week, his dream of going to one of the top universities in Korea coming true. He’s got into Yonsei. You, however…had a little secret. And you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. You had received a response for Yonsei as well, a day after his. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be accepted, the problem was that you both promised to go to the same uni, so it will be easy to move out and to look after eachother, and you were looking forward to that…until. You received a letter the day you were supposed to let your lover know about the thrilling news. One of your projects got recognition. Not just any recognition, but an offer to study abroad on a scholarship…at Harvard. 

You were thrilled when the coordinating teacher pulled you into his office to give you the good news. It was an opportunity that could shape your entire future, the kind of chance people only dream of.

The excitement was overwhelming, but the timing was bad. So you got stuck with two options, either taking your way in life, an opportunity of a lifetime, but the price you had to pay put you away from family, friends and Jungkook, or being close to your lover, but possibly, regretting not taking the chance of something so big when you had to. So, you resumed not telling Jungkook, until now…when the place needs to be confirmed and the guilt of wanting to go to Harvard instead, taking over. You took a deep breath as the car bumps along the snowy road. Jungkook glanced over at you, sensing the sudden shift in your mood. “What’s wrong, love? We are almost there, do you want to make a stop? Are you not feeling good?” the boy asks, concerned.

You felt bad, you didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want him to feel betrayed or confused, and for sure you wanted this vacation to be perfect and memorable. 

You shake your head softly, giving him a small smile. "No, it's nothing, might be just from the excitement.” You hope the lie sounds convincing, but deep down, you know it’s the last thing you should be doing, you’ve kept this secret and lied enough. It seemed to have worked though, he shrugged and continued on the road, taking a last turn before the view of the cabin in which you will remain for the next few days began to take shape. 

The car pulls into the driveway and you eagerly jump out once the engine is silent. The crunch of the snow beneath your feet and the dancing snowflakes that were falling around you made the place seem magical. “I’ll get the bags!” Jungkook says as he lets you enjoy winter just a little more. He grins, clearly happy to see you so excited. It felt freeing, being away from everything, forgetting responsibilities for a brief second.

You get lost in the view, wandering around while your man carries everything inside. The place was beautiful, a lot of snow, and the trees were so tall you would think their peak could scrape the sky above. 

The air felt fresh and crisp, your eyes taking in the beauty of the quiet wilderness when suddenly, your foot catches on something. “Oh!” you stumble forward, arms flailing to regain balance as you fall face down into the snow. “Omg, are you okay?” you hear a voice from behind, big hands wrapping around your arms to lift you back and onto the ground. You blink, still a bit flustered, the snow melting with the warmth of your face. The boy crouches down to pick your hat, shaking the remaining frozen fluff off.

“Uh, thank you…” you shyly whisper when his hands offer back the piece of clothing. “No problem.” he laughs lightly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I guess this place can be a bit tricky with all the snow and hidden rocks.”

“One minute you're admiring the view, next thing you know you’re stumbling over something. You should be more careful.” the boy beams a breathtaking smile your way making you blush in embarrassment. “I’ll keep that in mind.” you softly respond trying to get away from such awkward situation. “I’m Yohan, by the way.” You nod, taking in the casual, confident vibe he gives off. “I’m Y/N.” You glance up at him, he was good looking, not better than your Jungkook, but still eye- catching. His hair was a chocolate brown color, a little messy, with bangs almost covering his eyes, and even though he was taller than your lover, his body was not as shaped. Yohan nods “Nice meeting you Y/N.” he smiles once more “If you need any tips about the area, feel free to ask. I come here at least three times a year, I know the area like the back of my hand.” You give him a polite smile before letting him lead the way back to the cabins. Once there you wave before rushing inside, your head coming in contact with Jungkook’s firm chest right before entering.

"Everything okay?" he asks, his gaze a little more focused than usual. Your cheeks burn up, but you can’t hide the fact that you are wet, cold and still full of snow. Jungkook raises an eyebrow as he looks over your frame, taking in Yohan’s back as he fades in the distance. “Did that guy do something to you?” You quickly shake your head, trying to brush off the uncomfortable tension that builds in the air. "No, no! I stumbled and fell, he only helped me up and back to this place.” you explain, forcing a smile. "That's all."

Jungkook's gaze lingers on you for a moment before pulling your frame into the house, the warmth of the cabin wrapping around you. He unzips his suitcase, putting out the first towel he sees and wrapping you in it. “You need to change, you’ll catch a cold at this rate.” You look at him throughout your lashes, looking like a wet puppy that follows his owner’s instructions after they get scolded.

"Thanks." you mutter, touched by the way he’s looking after you. You make your way toward the small bathroom to change and wash up. Jungkook watches you for a moment, still concerned over what happened. 

“Take your time love, I’ll start the fire in the meantime!” he calls out as you close the bathroom door. You breathe in deeply before getting rid of your cold clothes and stepping inside the steamy shower. 

As you step out of the bathroom, fully dressed in warm attire, you see Jungkook kneeling by the fireplace, his hands warming up in front of it. You come closer, keeling and wrapping your arms around him, from behind. Your head rests on his back while his fingers gently caress yours. 

"Feel better?" he asks without turning, making you hum, nuzzling your nose on the nape of his neck. "Much better," you reply while raising up, walking over to sit on the couch, curling your feet underneath you.

The boy watches you, before rising to his feet, the warmth of the fire casting a soft glow on his features. He walks over and sits beside you, pulling you into his lap. You comply and sit in his warm arms. 

You smile when he rubs his cheek on the side of your head, his muscles flexing tighter around you. “It’s getting late.” You glance at the clock on the wall, noticing that the evening has settled in.

Jungkook gently runs his fingers through your hair, his lips brushing lightly against your neck. "Do you want to go to bed, or stay up for a bit longer?" he asks in a low tone, arms loosened up to rest on your thighs. 

You close your eyes, leaning back onto him, enjoying the slight intimacy you share. “How about we stay up a little longer.” you say once his fingers start to play with the hem of your pants. “And what do you plan on doing?” he asks, lips curving into a small grin against your neck. One of his hands slowly makes its way inside your pants, playing over the wet patch you developed on your underwear. You halt in his lap when his middle finger starts to rub little circles over your clothed clit. “Jungkook…” you whimper, making the boy shush you with a slow and tangy kiss. His two fingers dragging your wet underwear to the side to play with your slick folds. He manages to break a gasp from you when one of his digits rubs at your entrance. He slowly enters with one, ripping a loud moan from you. “Is this okay?” he manages to ask, sweat building on his forehead and the tent in his pants growing. “Y-yeah.” you manage to mutter between your moans. And as his second starts to make its way in, he knows he’s got you exactly where he wanted. 

His lips move back to your neck to suck a small, purple spot, marking what’s his. “You’re so hot, baby.” his fingers start moving faster and faster, his other hands pulling your pants down enough to access with ease. In a blink, his other fingers begin to gently rub your bundle of nerves, making you lose yourself to the feeling. Your vision clouds and a bunch of pretty stars start to appear as you let yourself go on your lover’s fingers. He drags them through your orgasm before stopping, letting you catch your breath in bliss. “You did so good, my love.” he coos, kissing your lips gently before taking his fingers out, bringing them to his lips to taste you. “Eww, Jungkook!” you both laugh as you get up from his lap, putting your underwear in place and your pants back on. You look towards your boy, his eyes praying over your figure, hard on sitting neatly on the side of his leg, the outline very visible. It’s not the first time you two do stuff like this, toying with each other. In four years you experimented when you got the chance and as puberty was also taking a toll on your hormones, you started to go even deeper down the path. From boring days at his place, when his parents were away, ending with him sloppily eating you out on the couch, to the late nights when you snuck up for a ride, after he’s got his license, just to messily blow his mind away in the back seat.

You were getting good at these things, and well, fingering, this was a newer one. Starting with him just slowly rubbing your sweet pussy to bring you to orgasm and advancing to plucking a finger or two into your tight wetness. The two of you were no strangers to intimacy, but somehow you still haven’t taken that big, big, step. You never had real sex. And deep down the both of you wanted to change that, wanting to feel the connections brew and tie you closer. You kneel down in front of him, taking the opportunity to maybe, just maybe take things a notch further. The boy licks his lips looking down at you with clouded eyes. You look up as well, asking for permission which you gladly get.

“Go on, baby.” his raspy voice makes your downstairs throb further, especially when he’s manspreading so deliciously to give you access.  

Your fingers untie the strings of his sweatpants, hand breaking in to pull out his hot cock. Tip red and leaking with fluid. You gulp stroking him a little, smearing his precum for some better lubrication. You lick your lips and bring yourself closer to his aching tip, but before you can wrap your mouth around him, a loud knock interrupts. You turn around, looking towards the door, silence. You huff thinking it was just some random noise. But when you turn back you only manage to touch his manhood with your lips before another knock, louder than the one before, stops you. You rise from the ground whining in annoyance alongside your boy. “Is this serious?! I’ll go and get it.”. Tucking a few strands of hair you make your way towards the door, while Jungkook goes to the bathroom to quickly solve his problem. “Yes?” you ask while only creaking the door slightly. You find Yohan and a random stranger at your door. “Hello, we are…oh Y/N!” his eyes sparkle when he takes a hold of your frame. “Yohan, what are you doing here? Especially this late?” you ask concerned, fully opening the door, glancing at the other man from time to time. “Well I told you I come here often. I work as a ranger, and we got notice of a blizzard so we came to announce and give supplies.”  

“The blizzard might be worse than we expect.” the ranger hops on the conversation, his voice calm but firm. “It’s not safe to be out, especially at night, and since we don’t know how long it will last, we need to be prepared.” “We’ll be fine, right?” you ask quietly. Yohan gives you a reassuring smile. “For sure, worst case you’ll have to stay in tomorrow, but other than that it’s not a major threat.” His hand comes closer to pat you on your shoulder in reassurance, but before he can reach you he stops. 

You look behind, finally taking in your boyfriend’s presence, chest puffing up and down, cheeks flustered and his hair messy wet. He looks over at you while wrapping an arm around your waist. “Everything okay?” “Yeah, the rangers brought supplies just in case, there will be a blizzard tonight. You might not snowboard tomorrow.” His expression hardens slightly, his eyes flicking outside to see the wind blowing quicker and quicker. “There are your supplies.” Yohan abruptly interrupts, his face cold all of a sudden. He lands Jungkook an emergency bag. “Thanks, Yohan.” you say softly, making the man smile brightly at you. “Of course. Just wanted to make sure you’re prepared!” his voice is professional, but the way he was absolutely trying to ignore your boyfriend was not. 

Jungkook must have noticed too, the way his arm brings you behind him, trying to guard you. “We’ll be fine, thank you for your service.” he harshly says before shutting the door in their face. 

He exhales annoyed, his jaw tightening. “Is that the guy who helped you earlier?” His voice is steady, but there’s something behind his tone that tells you he’s not entirely fine with how things went down.

“You mean Yohan, yes, he helped me...” You take a step toward him, latching your arm on his biceps, feeling how he relaxes under your touch. “I don’t like him. The way he was looking at you was weird.” You sigh, safe to say your man was jealous and pretty possessive over things that are ‘his’, you being at the top of the list.

You stare at him before rolling his eyes. “He was just being polite…” you mumble, making the man shake his head in disapproval “Just stay away from him.”

Frustration bubbles under your skin, but you keep quiet. This is supposed to be a nice and calm vacation, arguments and jealousies should be put aside. Not wanting to pick up a fight, you just sigh and head for the bed. After a few moments of silence, you hear Jungkook’s footsteps come into the room, his body crawling next to yours. “Tell me if you feel cold, we can notch up the fire.” you hum nesting your body into his arms. 

“Tomorrow.” Jungkook starts, his head resting gently on yours, “We’ll forget about all of this and just have fun, okay? This is our vacation.” he gently kisses your head before closing his eyes, you following right after.

The next day came in quite with a halt, waking up with your man behind the sheets and between your legs. Easy to say, he knew how to make you forget about the jealousy he had the other day, having you wrapped around his finger, a little too good. 

And after a quick shower and the very blissful morning you had, you felt ready to take on the day, finding out from the radio post that the blizzard got ‘postponed’ since the weather ‘magically’ got better overnight. Jungkook had already packed up his board, his enthusiasm contagious as he looked at you with a mischievous grin. “Are you that happy to go snowboarding?” you teasingly ask, making the man nod vigorously. You chuckle at his cuteness, grabbing his hand and going towards the slopes. Gearing you up as well since you didn’t have neither the equipment nor the experience in snowboarding. “I can’t wait to get up there!” Jungkook exclaimed, practically bouncing on his toes, waiting for the lift to ascend up the mountain. “It’s going to be so much fun!” he says, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. On the other hand, you felt worried. The idea of heading up the mountain with Jungkook, who was so confident and pretty skilled, only made your nerves worse. 

Lost in your thought you almost don’t feel the warm glove that wraps around yours. “I’m going to help you, so don’t be nervous on me, pretty.” His words made you feel a little better, he always knows how to comfort you. Once on the lift and up the mountain you actually started to feel really scared. All the confidence he gave you peeling away at instant. “Take a deep breath, and slowly go down, I will catch you if anything happens.” And you do, the speed taking over making you fall on your bum. Jungkook urged you to get up and try again, and again…and again…until you got really bored and upset about not catching up to at least 10% of his skills. But the man was unstoppable, the energy he was putting into this could be far more effective in other places. Taking your helmet on, blowing the few strands that got stuck to your forehead you are finally at the bottom of the trail, exhausted and sweaty. 

Your boy pulls next to you with a little show, stopping so abruptly the snow flies in the air. “Up for another round?” hell no! It took you more than two hours to go down this damn slope once, all while Jungkook did at least seven runs. “Don’t even think about it, I’d rather get hot cocoa than spend another two hours breaking my bones.” he laughs loudly, coming over to pat you on the head. “I will ride some more then, stay close so I can at least keep an eye if something happens.” he pecks your red nose taking over to the lift. You shake your head in disapproval, unbuckling from the board and moving towards the nice cafe situated over so conveniently in front of the trail.

You push open the door, instantly greeted by the warmth and the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee and hot pastries. It’s cozy, with wooden beams lining the ceiling and a roaring fire crackling in the corner. “One hot cocoa please!” grabbing the warm drink, topped with whipped cream and marshmallows you go outside to sit on one of the beanbags. You glance upward to spot Jungkook gliding down the slope with effortless ease, his movements fluid like water. “Enjoying the view?” a familiar voice pulls you from admiring your boyfriend. “Yohan?!” you say, surprised. “What are you doing here?” “Just grabbing a quick coffee before heading out to check the trails. Everything’s looking good after last night’s false blizzard alarm.” he laughs heartily, shaking his head at how ridiculous it must have been to announce a blizzard that never came. 

“Mind if I join you for a second?” he asks, his grin still in place. Before you can respond, he pulls the beanbag from across you and sits down. “So, no snowboarding for you today?” Yohan asks, signaling toward your boots, clearly unbuckled from the board. You smile softly, sipping from the hot drink. “I tried, but I’m nowhere as good as Jungkook, he’s the expert.” “Ah, I saw him earlier, the guy in full black. He’s good.” Yohan leans back, his eyes on you now. “Is he your man?” You pause mid-sip, his direct question catching you off guard. “Yes, he is.” “Seems like a real thrill seeker. How can you handle all that?” You bite your lip, unsure how to answer. "How can I handle all that?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. "It's not really about handling it. I just let him be himself." You shrug, hoping to sound nonchalant. Was he only making conversation or was he trying to pick at your boyfriend? 

"Looks like he's having fun." Yohan observes, his gaze following the boy. "Yeah." you say, bothered by the way his subject was Jungkook "He's good at what he does." you whisper under your breath. “I wish I could go like that too, but being a ranger takes way too much of my time.”

“Plus it’s hard to get in touch with people, this is a resort so everyone just comes and goes, maybe once in a while I see familiar faces.”  He shrugs, slight disappointment leaching on his voice. "It must be tough, having to be away from family…” you stop for a second “and friends.” bitterness erupts in your chest, speaking so carefree about how hard it is to be away from everyone when you are about to do the same to the people you love. "Yeah, it can be. Sometimes I just wish I had a moment to kick back, you know?” He pauses, glancing over at you with a small smile. “But it’s also fun to meet the ones that come once in a lifetime.” You look at him with wide eyes, some blush creeping on your cheeks. You try to gather yourself, clearing your throat before taking a big gulp from your cup. "Sometimes it's the people you don’t expect that end up being the most memorable." he says looking over the slopes once again, seeing Jungkook rush down at full speed. “I think it’s time to go, your boyfriend is coming. Nice speaking with you, hope to see you later!” he says with a light grin and a wave, his eyes flicking to Jungkook, who’s now near the bottom of the hill. 

As Yohan walks away, you can’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you. You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away, and focus on the sight of your boyfriend, taking off his goggles and helmet, looking seemingly pissed.

Jungkook stops just a few feet away, his gaze sharp, looking the way Yohan left. "Was that Yohan?" he asks, the words coming out in a low tone that sends unease through your spine. You blink, surprised at how quick he catches on. "Yeah, we were just chatting over some drinks.” His tongue pushes the inside of his cheek, and his hands drag furiously through his hair, clearly frustrated. "Jungkook, it’s nothing." you say in defence, trying to reassure him, seeing the jealousy spark up within, once again. "We were just talking, that’s all." He avoids your glance and exhales sharply. “I told you to stay away from that prick, he’s no good.” You have enough of his behavior. Pushing your feet on the ground you rise from your seat. “You’re just really jealous. He’s not doing anything to me other than chatting every now and then.” Sensing your anger Jungkook tones down "I don’t like it when other guys get too close to you." he admits through gritted teeth “Especially since I’m not around.”

You cross your arms over your chest, the drink you had long forgotten into the snow. “Forget it, it’s not like it will ever get through your thick skull.” you whisper the last part out of anger and frustration, but your actions only fire up the boy even more. “What did you say? Tell that to my face if you feel so bold.” His tone is low, dangerous, as he steps toward you. Tall frame towering over your much smaller one. 

“I said it’s never going to get through to you.” you snap back, refusing to back down. You were temperamental, such an attitude and behaviour leading to many hurts along the way. “I’m not some helpless girl who needs to be guarded from every guy I talk to, Jungkook!” the boy flinches at your words, clearly taken aback from you being so forward and mean. You can tell he’s hurt, but the anger in him isn’t entirely gone either. “I’m not saying you’re helpless.” he huffs ”I care about you, I care about what’s mine an…” but you take it further, cutting his sentence without a care. “Yours? Me? Do I look like some possession to you?” It felt surreal, the way he can easily talk about you like you were some kind of object he owned. 

Jungkook freezes, his expression dropping, the anger in his eyes faltering as well. His lips part, but no words come out at first, he must have realised the way his sentence came out. 

“Wait.” he starts, his voice rushed, panic setting in. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean it like that.” You take a step back, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. “How can you say such absurd stuff?” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly fighting to say the right stuff. Silence takes over you two, you had nothing left to say while he had so much but didn’t know how to piece it together without starting a disaster. 

In the end you sigh, wiping away a few tears that drop before turning your back saying “Do whatever you want.” and leaving.

Jungkook doesn’t call out, doesn’t try to stop you, fueled by so many emotions, he only kicks his board away in anger before collecting himself for a few more runs down the trail, he needs to take his mind away.

And there he goes, once more and once more, until the sun goes down and the only lights are the ones from the post lamps. He was exhausted, burning his body throughout the day as never before. “This is the last one.” he says to himself, ready to take over the much quiet and deserted trail. The events from today playing over and over in his head, not letting him enjoy one second of his time. In a way he thought this was the only way of punishing himself over how he reacted and acted towards you. He loves you dearly, years of getting to know each other and build trust making him never forget to cherish and desire you. But he also has his flaws, the jealousy his body conserves makes him petty, only wanting you for himself, sick to his stomach when he sees other men pray over your pretty figure. So he does stupid stuff, hurts you and then hurts himself so he can be selfish once again and drag you back with pity. The boy sighs, not wanting to go down knowing in the end he will have to face you. He can already picture your worried face and the way you start to cry and beat him over the fact that he’s let himself push the limits so hard. And then he will drag you into his arms and cuddle you close, reminding you that you’re everything he needs and no other thing, not even air, is necessary for him to survive. Your presence and worry blooming pride into his soul. With clouded thoughts he goes down the snowy terrain, the adrenaline rushing into his body when the picture of you, waiting in front of the door for him, runs in his mind. He’s so lost in the delusion that he barely takes hold of the person in front of him. Panic sets when he finally notices, he tries to turn himself or, at least, get slower, but in vain. With a grunt he runs over the person, falling on top. He scrambles to push himself off. “Are you really that blind? Or are you just dumb!” an irritated feminine voice breaks down from underneath. He quickly rolls over, detaching the board from his feet. “I, u-uh” the boy stammers when his eyes meet the fierce ones of a woman. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to run you over.” “What were you even doing, playing a game of human bowling?!” her words were piercing through him, making the heat rise to his cheeks. The man quickly apologizes once again, his hand extending to help the young girl out.

She huffs, getting up herself and dusting her clothes to get rid of the snow. “Such an idiot.” “I said I’m sorry, okay! Are you hurt, though?” The woman’s gaze softens slightly at his question, but she crosses her arms. “No, I’m fine. Just...maybe watch where you’re going next time.” she mutters, the silence taking over for a brief second before both of them begin to chuckle. “It was stupid of me to do this, I should’ve gone down earlier, I don’t think my body can handle another slope. Not my brightest moment.” Jungkook takes off his helmet as the tension melts away. The woman adjusts her jacket and laughs lightly. “I saw you today, you are pretty good.” “You think?” she quickly fixes her goggles before rolling her eyes at his cocky tone. “Yeah, I didn't think you’d run into someone the moment it turns dark. At least you owned up to it and apologised.” “How can I not, you were ready to chew me out.” the boy admits with a stupid grin and a teasing tone. “Very good one, I’m Naeun.” she adds, extending her hand. “Jungkook.” he clasps her hand, shaking it. “Should we go down together? It’s only a few meters and we are at the bottom.” Naeun questions, raising her brows while looking at Jungkook. “Sure, but only if you have some good tips for my next rides.” she laughs at his boldness. “I work here as a trainer, you could say I’m a pro rider.” she winks playfully, setting Jungkook’s body on fire, leaving him speechless. “Pro rider, huh?” he manages to say, clearing his throat, looking away in embarrassment. “You’ve got the speed, but your technique could use some work. I can teach you some tricks tomorrow, I’m free in the afternoon since the kids only come in the morning.” “I’ll give it a shot.” he confidently responds, the girl only hums. “Think you can handle taking lessons from me though? Pretty boy.” Jungkook chokes on his saliva, coughing as the girl bursts into laughter.

“See you tomorrow, pretty boy. Don’t run into others until we meet, it would not work to snowboard with a broken leg.” Naeun teases before waving her arm, her figure disappearing in the distance. Jungkook watches her walk away before muttering an “wow” in disbelief. His worries dissipate and reappear when he gets inside, and instead of facing you with a furious face, ready to strike him down, he meets silence. 

“Y/N.” he quietly calls while looking for you. Not in the living room, bathroom or kitchen. So you must be in bed by now. Jungkook jumps over the stairs entering the room with quiet steps. Sighing when he sees you wrapped around in the blanket like a burrito. He gets closer to your face, looking at how puffy and tired your closed eyes were, guilt getting into him knowing he let you here cry instead of manning up, sorting things out. His chest tightens but as he leans closer, brushing some hairs out of your face. “I’m such an idiot.” he mutters under his breath when he gets into the bed, next to you. Even in your sleep, you seem to instinctively lean into his warmth, your body moving to stick to his side. Jungkook smiles, turning his body to hold you before drifting off to sleep. The morning air feels cold on his skin. He rustles around searching for your body heat, just to be met with emptiness.

His brows furrowed as he sat up, looking around for any trace of you. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing his face before waddling out of the bedroom, the cabin met with silence. 

He lazily gets dressed, his body aching from every spot after yesterday’s push over. Determined to make things right, he grabs his jacket and steps outside, eyes scrunching in displeasure when the white of the snow blinds him. The steps he takes feel heavy, legs unknowingly taking him somewhere through the thick fluff. Jungkook’s gaze darts around, scanning the territory for any sign of you, the heartfelt laughter of your voice being heard in the distance catching his attention.

He quickened his pace, body drawn to see you. As he rounds a small cluster of pine trees his gaze bores on your figure, small body trying to push a big ball of snow around.

Jungkook stops in his tracks, his breath clouding the air as he watches you, a mixture of amusement and relief on his features. He’s ready to take one step towards you, when Yohan erupts from behind a tree, his arms carrying another boulder of snow. Your laughter echoes again when your eyes meet him, surprise written all over when the man sets down the big globe. 

“Perfect, right?” Yohan asks, dusting off his gloves and stepping back to admire his work, a triumphant smile on his face. “Don’t you think it’a a little too big? How will we lift this?” You beam at him, cheeks and nose flushed from the cold. “Teamwork.” Yohan says with a wink, clearly enjoying the playful banter. Jungkook only looks from afar, his heart burning worse than his body when he acknowledges how easy can Yohan make you smile with joy. He knows he should walk over and maybe beat him up real good, roll him into all the snow your little hands collected and make him the snowman instead. But he doesn’t. Instead he turns around with a shaky breath and tears blazing his eyes. “Hey! Pretty boy, whatcha doing there?” Naeun's voice beams from afar, her body agitating to make her presence noticed. Jungkook quickly wipes at his eyes trying to fight back the smile Naeun just put on his face. He walks over to her just to see a hoard of kids going down in a line. “Your students?” he raises a brow flashing her a smile. “Yea, good kids. Smart too.”  she replies, a proud glint in her eyes. “They’ve been asking me for tips all day. Pretty sure I’ll have them doing jumps by the end of the week.” “I need to get my jumps sorted as well, I’ve only been falling until now.” the boy says, lighting up his mood, taking his head away from all the drama in his love life. “Don't worry, I'll whip you into shape soon.” she chuckles to herself “I’m done for today so if you want, grab your board and let’s hop on.” "Alright, let's do this," he says, his competitive side itching for the chance to show off, the frustration he had when he saw you with Yohan dissipating away in a blink. He grabs his gears and dresses up, and after 20 minutes he meets Naeun for the start of his training. And they have fun for like two hours on the slopes. Jungkook managed to land even some of the harder jumps, as well as actually teach Naeun a trick or two himself. “Man, you’re really good. A quick learner, I’m impressed.” the girl says breathless, letting her body fall into a pile of snow. Jungkook laughs trying to catch his breath as well. “You’re not bad yourself.” He says with tired but sparkling eyes. Naeun stares at him, her cheeks getting brighter and probably not from the cold or exercising. She opens her mouth to say something, but it’s interrupted by the loud growl of her stomach.

Now visibly flustered she dismounts from the boards, looking away embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to eat today, the kids came earlier than expected.” “I’m kinda hungry too, didn’t have breakfast either and it’s launch time already.” he motions to his belly, rubbing it. "How about we grab something to eat together? I think we’ve earned it after all that snowboarding." Naeun hesitates for a second before asking, afraid she’s going to get turned down. "You know what, I think that sounds great." Jungkook replies without a care, making her face light up with relief. "Really? Great!" she grabs his arm, dragging him to the nearby restaurant. "I could eat a whole mountain of food after today." Jungkook says with a chuckle, setting his snowboard beside him as he settles into the seat. Naeun rolls her eyes but grins. "I’m pretty sure I could too. Ramen? Or some Tteokbokki?” She flips through the menu, clearly eager for something hot.

"Definitely ramen for me." Jungkook responds quickly, his mind already set on it. The two of them sat in their order, chatting away happily, enjoying each other's presence.

On the other side, you recharge your battery after yesterday’s fight with some snowman building alongside Yohan. “It was really fun, I hope it will never melt away.” Yohan chuckles ruffling your hair. You two grew pretty close this morning. Apparently he is 22 years old, and only an assistant ranger. He comes from far away to spend his time around these places since he enjoys nature. You two were not similar, but your personalities did match pretty well, his presence being one big breath of fresh air. And after exhausting yourselves all morning with collecting and rolling snow, you two decided to walk back to the cabins and get back to your daily lives, actually wanting to set things right with your boyfriend.

As the cabins come into view, Yohan suddenly slows his pace, his gaze shifting toward the restaurant nearby. “Hey…” he says cautiously, pointing his finger toward the large glass windows. “Isn’t that Jungkook?” Following his finger you look towards the restaurant, your heart halting in your chest when you notice him smiling and listening with so much attention to the girl from across. “That’s him, right?” Yohan asks again, showing mild concern when your face drops. 

“Yeah…” you reply quietly, your hands tightening around your gloves. Yohan studies your face some more, feeling sorry seeing you like this. “Who even is that girl?” you mutter. “Naeun.” the boy responds hesitantly. “She’s a worker here, teaching kids how to snowboard.”

You can’t help but have jealousy bloom inside of you, the way her bob sways when she laughs a little too much at whatever your boyfriend was saying, or how she offers a bite of her food for him to try with shimmering eyes. They looked at a real couple. 

“You okay?” Yohan’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you were not okay, you were fuming.

So that’s what he’s been doing all along while you were consuming yourself in the cabin, flirting so carefree with other girls. “I’m going there.” you say through gritted teeth, your fingers suffocating the gloves with your clench. Yohan’s eyes widen and alarmed he tries to stop you from making a scene. But you’re too far gone, already half a meter away from him. 

The door swings open with a soft jingle as you step inside and you don’t hesitate as you stride to their table, making your presence noticed in an instant. Your boyfriend jumps in his seat when he sees you cross your arms, glance throwing daggers his and Naeun’s way. “So this is your way of making up?” you ask repulsed. He only leans back, clicking with his tongue. “Ask yourself, or are you too caught up with Yohan?” Your jaw tightens at the mention of Yohan, anger flaring in your chest. “You’re just, absolutely the worst, trying to turn this shit on me when the only problem is you.” he raises from his seat, gaining the attention of the people around. “Hey, let’s not make a scene.” Naeun intervenes only to be immediately shut down. “I’m the problem now? Not you who’s been basically drooling over that Yohan guy.” you clench your fist on your sides, your body shaking with the anger he makes you feel. You bite your lips, wiping away your tears “I don’t even know what to do anymore.” you say in front of him. Jungkook’s expression softens in an instant, his heart skipping a beat. His own hands starting to shake thinking the worst all of a sudden. But you just shake your head, leaving him there in guilt and sorrow. For the next day you avoid each other, him sleeping on the couch while you drain yourself of tears in the bedroom. What a beautiful vacation.

The two of you took different paths all of a sudden, Jungkook spending his days on the hill with Naeun while you helped Yohan with everything you could. It was the recipe of a disaster, and it was clearly affecting your relationship. With now only 2 days to spare and a relationship that is about to collapse. It’s clear that something needs to change, but neither of you knows how to start fixing it.

As the snow began to gradually fall, Jungkook’s heavy steps could be heard. Another day on the slope for the snowboarder, now almost ending.

His body was a wreck, broken from a mixture of exhaustion, the leakage of your relationship and probably the discomfort of the couch, all piling up. He does not know if he can keep this up till the end of the getaway. His body might actually give up if he keeps this further. 

With a sigh, he pushes himself forward again, carving through the snow, until he’s met with the body of another guy. “Are you planning on dying tonight?” the sarcastic voice of Yohan ruptures through Jungkook’s ears. “Only if you go first.” he responds with the same token. “I genuinely feel pity when I look at you.” the older male starts. The younger one just rolls his eyes, bumping him with his shoulder in order to continue on his road. “I genuinely don’t know what she sees in you.” “I don’t know either.” Jungkook mutters, more to himself than to Yohan. “No, Y/N deserves so much better than an idiot like you, but she’s crazy blind when it comes to you.” he starts, finally letting his own thoughts out. “I don’t need a lecture from you.” Jungkook bites, his back still turned to Yohan. “You do, because you have her, and if you don’t want me to steal her away, then maybe you can start fixing things and actually appreciating her.” “You know, Y/N is an amazing girl, she’s kind and very loyal to an idiot like you.” his hands raise to grab the bridge of his nose in frustration, not believing that instead of taking the chance he gives it back to the very undeserving owner. “And she likes to build snowmans, and drink hot cocoa. She’s also super smart, knows more about the forest than I do, and she’s about to go to Harvard for human’s sake. She’s absolutely perfect, why do you waste her time!” he shouts in anger, eyes almost popping off from rage. “She’s not going to Harvard, she’s going to Yonsei.” a very confused Jungkook turns around and says. “Oh.” it’s the only thing Yohan can spit out, he’s messed up…big time. “Why do you say she’s going to Harvard, we promised we will go to the same uni.” Yohan lets out a slow breath, realizing how serious and delicaye this is. “I guess she didn’t tell you then…” ashamed he bites his lips. Jungkook turns back and makes a run towards the cabin, dropping his board and other gear in the process. He shoves the door open, taking you by surprise. You just got out of the shower and ready for a cozy night in bed. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he questions failing to stop the tears falling from his eyes. “What?” you ask in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re going to Harvard!” he sobs. You freeze, the towel around your shoulders slipping and falling on the ground. “I-I can explain, it's not what you think.”

“This is selfish even for you, Y/N. You promised…” 

You can’t mutter another word, tears burning into your eyes just as well and all you do is stay and stare at the man who’s going through the worst time of his life. “So this is really the end?” he asks, pleading for an answer, the raw pain in his eyes ripping your heart apart. His breath comes out shaky, his lips quivering. 

Jungkook stands there for a long moment, his chest rising and falling, and without another word, he walks away from you and back outside, shutting the door close after him. 

For him reality hits, a reality in which he couldn’t keep you close, managing to only push you away further and further. You also bite down on your feelings, mixed emotions running free in your body and head. He didn’t deserve all of this either. And your jealousies and misunderstandings only made you grow apart. Letting your body crumble on the ground sitting there for countless minutes, with tears running down your face, you look towards the door in hopes of his head peeking inside, and instead of the sorrowful eyes, a big and comforting smile to appear on his face.  Suddenly, the sound of the wind howling outside cuts through the room, making your eyes avert to the window. It’s already dark outside and the snow starts thickening. You stand up slowly, grabbing your phone to text Yohan, but just as the thought crosses your mind, you receive a message from him. “Be careful. It’s turning into a blizzard out there. Stay inside, both you and Jungkook.” A big lump fills your throat, your body moving before your mind has a chance to fully process anything. You slip on your boots, grabbing your jacket as you rush out the door.

The wind hits you like a wall, your eyes scrunching in pain. You can barely see anything through the thick snow, but you push forward, your heart pounding in your chest, you need to find Jungkook. This has escalated to unimaginable proportions. The storm outside perfectly mirroring the way you both consumed yourself for the last few days. It doesn’t take long for you to find him. His body collapsed in the snow. “Jungkook!” you shout, but the wind nearly swallows your voice. You rush and kneel next to his body, shaking him in desperation. “You idiot!” you cry, pulling him closer, wrapping your arms around, trying to warm him up. With all the power you have, you pull him onto your back, dragging him back to the cabin. 

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, you make it to the door. You can barely catch your breath as you kick it open, throwing both your bodies inside. 

With all your remaining strength, your lungs burning from inside out, you strip him of his wet clothes, placing your head over his chest. His heart was beating. A rush of peace washes over you, with shaky arms you grab him close, cuddling him close to your warmth. “It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be fine.” you keep whispering while gently stroking his hair, holding him like your life depends on it. After good minutes you let go when you feel him starting to stir and cough. His eyes barely opening. “Am I in heaven?” “Only if you still think I’m an angel.” you reply thick with emotion. He raises his hand, placing it on your cheek, wiping away the tears you didn’t even know were falling. “The prettiest angel I’ve ever seen.” You sigh relieved, sticking your forehead onto his. Both of you lay there for some good minutes, before managing to drag him to the room and changing into comforting clothes you hold him close as he sleeps, promising yourself to never do this again. Morning comes slowly, the raging blizzard still ongoing. You wake up first, feeling the weight of your man on top of you, his chest coming slowly up and down. You stare at the ceiling for a few moments, processing how close you were to losing him. “Morning.” he says softly, his voice rough making you look back at him. “My body aches.” he whispers with a smile. “I’m sure it does, you also burned yourself these days.” his hands cup your cheek, lips sweetly coming closer to peck yours. “We are dumb, and we made a mess out of something that was supposed to be memorable.”  Jungkook's thumb brushes over the exposed skin on your chest, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m sorry for everything, baby.”  “You don’t need to apologize. It’s also my fault. so sorry as well.” you whisper back to him. “Harvard huh?” he raises a brow questioning you with a tease. You laugh and shake your head. “Yonsei.” The boy rises from your chest, surprised eyes looking at you. “Are you serious?” “Yes, I already confirmed.” you shyly admit.

He laughs softly, throwing his back on his pillow and pulling you on top of him instead. “Why? This was a crazy life opportunity.”  “True, but…I realised after all this that no school or opportunity can make me go away from you. Yonsei is still top tier, I won’t lose that much, I won’t lose you.” Jungkook looks at you with stars in his eyes. “I love you.” he says in a heartbeat, you smile coming closer to him. “I love you too.” His lips slowly mold onto yours, moving slightly to kiss you so good. You gently bite his lip making him whine in the process, his moves growing eager. With a swing he pushes your body under him, lips attacking yours even more. “Fuck, I love you so much.” he whispers onto them, his fingers latching onto the first buttons of your pajama, taking them down. “I love you, and I love you, I can’t live without you, you drive me crazy Y/N.” “Then don’t.” you say softly once his lips start sucking on your neck. “Make me yours forever, Jungkook.” A low growl erupts from his chest at the thought. Claiming you as his, him being your first man and you being his only woman. His brain was fogging with desire. “Are you sure that’s what you want, baby?” he mumbles on your breast making you whimper. “Yes, please.” “You can’t back down on your words, just so you know.” he trails his lips lower, stopping at the hem of your pants, looking up for approval. You bite your lips half lidded, nodding simply as he complies. Jungkook takes a deep stare at your glistening pussy. “All mine.” is the only thing he says before he lowers his head to lick a long stripe through your folds. You moan loud, latching your fingers into his soft hair, pulling him closer to your warm core. “Mmm, my pretty girl, tasting so good.” he mumbles over your clit. The bliss becoming way too much to handle once the tip of his tongue starts moving rapidly at your entrance. “I’m coming, fuck!” you warn him, but he does not care, dragging his tongue through and out your orgasm. With shimmering lips he emerges from between your legs. His face just as fucked up as yours. “Should I stop?” he questions without the desire to actually do so. You shake your head, dragging his pants by the front. “No, I want you all.” you mewl, making the man lower his head whining. He turns around for a second, getting out to search through his suitcase. Coming back he throws an unopened pack of condoms next to your body. “You, oh my God.” you manage to say in disbelief. “Were you planning this all along?” you question, still not over your blowing height. “Maybe…” he manages to cockily say, slipping back between your legs, pantless. You reach out, grabbing his already throbbing cock, slowly moving to kiss him while stroking up and down. “Such a menace.” Sitting back down and spreading wider under him, you look at how he slightly struggles to unwrap the condom, his focused gaze and red hot cock, standing so proud and waiting ready, making you drool. “Need help, baby?” it’s not like you’ll be better, but maybe you can figure it out together, however his answer is a straight “No”. Once he gets it on, he leads his covered tip at your entrance. You hold your breath in anticipation and slight worry. “Tell me if it hurts, we can always stop.” he smiles and grabs one of your hands for some extra emotional support. You close your eyes expectant, feeling him slowly push inside and past the first ring of your walls before stopping. He stays still for a second before letting a small grunt pass out, making you open your eyes in worry. “Everything okay?” you ask concerned, staring at how his chest tries to even up, his breath rages as he shamefully admits “I came.”

You stare, blinking a few times, trying to process what he’s just told you, finally realising when he pulls out, the condom filled with white cream.

“Don’t laugh!” he whines seeing you hide your face into the pillow. You didn’t want to embarrass or make him insecure, potentially ruin his view on sex, but the way he was so cute and flustered, desperately trying to change the condom, made you grin in adoration.

“Let me help this time.” you say, pushing your body up, grabbing another foil from the box. You gently roll it over his member, while the man whimpers from sensitivity, his cock still hard as a rock even though he only came a few moments ago.

Once ready to try again, you lay back down and with a big gulp of air he pushes in, this time easing himself more and more, until his pelvis touches yours.

You can only grunt in pain and mild pleasure, but his reassuring touches and slow pace makes it somewhat enjoyable.

He slowly drags his member through your walls, until only his tip sits inside, gasping every time you clench around him, feeling like your tightness can rip him every second.

It sadly only takes a few minutes for you two to reach bliss, your nails clawing at his back and him deliciously and much easier stretching you out. Both of you come down your height with a big and loud moan.

Jungkook pulls out, looking proudly at his spill, sitting warm under the protection, while you try to catch your breath with happiness flowing through your veins.

“Is this forever?” he looks at you with love in his eyes.

“Forever.” you whisper back with just as much sentiment, sealing your love with a heartfelt kiss.

In the end, you realized that the world outside may change you, and challenges may come, but it’s these moments, with his eyes on yours and both of your hearts beating for each other, that really matter.

[justiceforvillains]

CALL ME M O N S T E R

➽ PAIRING : Vampire Hyunjin x Fem Reader

➽ SUMMARY: Vampire Hyunjin has lived hundreds of years alone, only leaving his castle when the thirst became unbearable, so what happened when a pretty-faced, broken human asked to be his blood pet?

➽ WARNINGS : Mention of Abuse, body bruises and injuries, implied starvation

[Part 1] [How it's like Living with Vampire Hyunjin]

Note: "Shadows" is something I made up; they have no souls or opinions or anything; they're just mindless black shadows, basically his puppets.

Hyunjin's anger simmered as he paced his darkened chamber. He didn't even know why he was angry or why he cared. The human's scars told a heartbreaking story. How could they be so cruel to their own kind?!

He recalled your desperate tears and your willingness to surrender to him

to what your kind called a monster.

He called upon his shadows

Hyunjin's gaze narrowed. "Prepare a room. See to their wounds. Feed them. Clothe them." Before the shadow could take another step, Hyunjin sighed, and with a flick of his fingers, the shadow disappeared. If you were already terrified as it is now, there's no use scaring you more by having a shadow come get you.

He re-entered the bathroom, not surprised to find you curled on the floor, trembling. you were still crying, not even noticing his entrance; it seems like you won't be showering anytime soon now

Gently, he lifted your chin, cradling your fragile form.

"Little one," he whispered, "no harm will come to you here." Your eyes widend at his words, "y-you will a-allow me to stay here?"

His expression softened, but he quickly masked it with a scowl. "Don't get too comfortable, though. You're only here because I need a decent blood pet."

You stayed quite; he could still feel your little body tremble and shake. He sighed again before he carried you.

As he carried you to your new quarters, he muttered, "Stupid human. Thinking they can just waltz in here..." His gaze drifted to your bruised face. "And thinking I'd care."

Hyunjin deposited you onto the plush bed, gruffly ordering, "Stay put. Eat. Sleep. Don't make a mess. These are the rules if you want to live here."

you trembled slightly "T-thank you, my lord."

Hyunjin's scowl deepened. "Don't thank me. You're here for my convenience."

As he turned to leave, your tiny hand grasped his sleeves. "M-my lord?"

He froze, pretending irritation. "What?"

Your voice barely registered. "Aren't...aren't you going to feed on me?"

Hyunjin's mask slipped, revealing pity. it was apparent what you were doing; you wanted him to feed on you to make sure he will eventually let you stay and not kill you. A vampire's promise can only be sealed with a deal; the deal hasn't happened yet so obviously you were skeptical

"with the state you're in, you can't even stand on your own; one bite and you will die right here." you nodded. "that's very kind of you..my lord."

He swiftly recovered, snarling, "Fool. Don't misunderstand. You're just…a useful tool."

Hyunjin shook off your grasp, grumbling, "Don't touch me."

Your hands retreated, fingers fluttering like injured birds. "Sorry, my lord."

As Hyunjin turned to depart, Your stomach growled loudly. He spun back, catching your embarrassed flush.

"Food, right," Hyunjin muttered, snapping his fingers. A shadow rushed in with a steaming tray.

Y/N's eyes widened at the weird creature, immeditly backing away fear evedance in the air mixed with sadness. "i-i t-thought you won't k-kill me; i'm sorry, please; i will b-be good."

"They're harmless; they're just my servants; no harm will come to you I gave you my word already." Before you could say anything else the shadow dropped the tray on the bed before disappearing before your eyes.

. "O-oh…so much!"

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. "Eat. Don't waste my resources."

you didn't need to be told twice you dug in, slurping noodles, sauce dripping down your chin. Hyunjin's gaze unwillingly lingered.

Hyunjin sighed, handing Y/N a napkin. "Clean yourself."

Y/N dabbed, smearing soup across their cheek. Hyunjin's lips twitched.

"You're a mess."

You lowered your head. "Sorry, my lord!" You were already making mistake after mistake till when will he be so patient? You thought, When will he just get rid of you or, even worse, send you back to the village? you shudder at the thought.

Hyunjin's resolve crumbled. He grabbed a damp cloth, gently wiping your face.

Y/N's eyelashes fluttered. "Th-thank you…"

Hyunjin's touch lingered, his mask slipping. "Just…be careful."

you cowered, eyes wide, as Hyunjin's fingers brushed their skin.

now that he's looking at your face he could tell there were some small bruses and cuts some on your lips and some right below your eyes

his jaw clenched. He rose, departing abruptly. "Rest. I won't bother you."

Y/N's whispered "thank you" followed him, tinged with hope.

ok so i really need your guys opinion on this one because i used a new AI thing to help me with the grammar and spelling and sometimes it recommends other words so please tell me if you like this or not

Also, I would really appreciate it if you thought I should continue this since I already have the next chapter kinda written, and let me tell you it's going to be HOT!

one last thing would you guys like it better if i said Y/N all the time or just "You"?

[How it's like Living with Vampire Hyunjin]

[Part 1]

✦ Masterlist ✦

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Skeleton's adult children said they couldn't come for Christmas this year, but shows up as a surprise to celebrate with him and S/O (who was warned about it for the food lol). For the main boys!

Undertale Sans - Sans was slightly down about not seeing his kids this year. Family is everything for him and he was just sad he couldn't celebrate with the people he loves the most. He's genuinely shocked and confused when he opens the door and finds his two kids waiting. That's the best surprise ever. He really doesn't care about the presents, that's a present big enough for him already. He's cheerful all night.

Undertale Papyrus - He found it oddly suspicious you cooked so much honestly and he had a feeling something like that was about to happen. That or you wanted to stuff Sans like a Christmas turkey or something, he wasn't too sure. Papyrus is excited about his kids showing up and acts like he didn't expect it at all with a bit too much passion.

Underswap Sans - Well, he's on service on Christmas day anyway so he didn't have time to process his S/O would be alone on Christmas. He's surprised to see both his S/O and his kids come to fetch him by force so he spends Christmas with them. His boss was already aware. He is happy to have a day off, but it also means he needs to go through a family dinner and he's not too excited about it.

Underswap Papyrus - Being the original Mr. Dad, Honey was devastated to not have his babies home for Christmas, and even quite depressed, even though he was happy to celebrate with his S/O. He's crying on his knees when he opens the door and finds all of his children here. He's so happy he faints actually. When he wakes up, he has no idea what's going on, he's just happy.

Underfell Sans - He understands. His children are big and they have their lives now. Just like Edge, they don't have any more time for little old him. He was kinda resigned to his fate until he opens the door and finds them all here, both his children and his brother. Uh??? Red says they shouldn't have come and everything, but he can't hide for long he is actually a tiny bit relieved they didn't forget about him. It seems he didn't mess up educating them all after all. That's a little bit comforting.

Underfell Papyrus - He was fine with the idea as he would have seen them all on New Year anyway. He didn't understand why his S/O insisted on cooking so much food and he started to argue when someone rang at the door. Ah. So that's why. Ah, ah, very funny. You think you are all so clever, right? He's pouting, and he won't give the kids their presents before the next day just to show he's mad lol. He's stubborn, and you won't convince him to say he's actually happy to see them.

Horrortale Sans - .... Were you not supposed to come? He doesn't know, he kinda forgot. Oak just assumed they were coming and set the table for them anyway, so everyone thought he knew already. He didn't. Or, well, he did, but unwillingly. He's just happy his kids are here.

Horrortale Papyrus - He knew that it could happen so he set the table for his children anyway. Willow doesn't like to be unprepared in case something unexpected happens, so he did like the kids were coming anyway. And look at that, he knew he was right! Willow is happy he cooks for 200 people (even though you're just eight, help), no one is going to starve tonight. You're all going to be dying in bed the next day so you can't leave, which is also part of his plan to keep you longer at home. Next time, you'll think about visiting more often.

Swapfell Sans - Nox was secretly hoping for it the second he saw his S/O cook way more food than they could eat in one night. He's kinda waiting all day at the window like a sad puppy, or running to the window every time there's a loud car in the street. Of course, when his S/O stares at him, he immediately acts like he's bitching on the neighbors like usual, he has a reputation after all. He even falls asleep waiting for them at some point. When his baby comes, he's so excited that you're pretty sure you've never seen him like that in your entire life. Nox feels like it's not really Christmas as long as everyone is not home.

Swapfell Papyrus - He asks his child to prove him they're not an evil clone of his child. And he won't move off the way before you do. You come here uninvited, and he's going to troll you to make you pay after making him believe you were not coming. He eventually lets them in after they tell a joke that actually makes him laugh. He's just happy his kid is home.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He calls his S/O delusional and in denial all day, and now he's shutting up for good. He's even a little mad that they actually showed up and made him look like an idiot. How dare you do that to your old father? Now he has to apologize and he hates to apologize! Go apologize to your other parent for him this instant!

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's a little disappointed and resigned to only cuddle with S/O tonight when the kids show up out of nowhere. Coffee is speechless. And not prepared??? Why didn't you say you were coming? He's not ready! All the gifts are in his room! He's panicking now. You said they were not coming, now nothing is ready and everything is wrong. Christmas is stressful man!

[imthepunchlord]

It's amazing how in after 170+ chapters at Dandadan, we still don't know jackshit about the main characters' lives like we know more about the supporting cast and even one off side characters too, The only things we know that Okarun do has a home at least (he goes home when he and Momo initially assumed they both got rid of Turbo Granny's curse earlier on) and Momo's parents are gone,

Yeah it's kinda wild that, bsckstory wise, I could tell you more about Rin than I could really say anything about Momo and Okarun.

Which, at least we know a decent amount about Momo, her home, family, and her home life. For her, her parents are the biggest question mark.

Okarun we really have nothing on. Nothing on home, family, or home life. Yeah we know he has one, and we know he can't keep Hana with him, which either means he doesn't live alone, he has nosy neighbors, or too little space for her. I think it's a safe guess to suspect he comes from a household of neglect and that home doesn't feel like home, especially as he wanted to get abducted even as a kid.

Which, yeah it's a little odd to be so far along and show backstories of other characters and not so with the two leads.

It could be a take that it just doesn't matter.

Or it could be it's being saved for later.

Like Seiko’s history I think would be a good moment to see her child and Momo’s parents, and how she got guardianship of Momo.

Okarun I don't know when we would. Maybe his family could play an important part in the future? Maybe it's future angst? Maybe it's all chill and we're overthinking/expecting sad circumstances.

We're just going to have to see as the manga continues but it is odd.

[idontplaytrack]

Regina x Reader fic. I don’t have an exact request but something angsty with comfort at the end please!

✧ How Do I Say Goodbye

Regina George x fem! reader

Warnings: mentions to the death of a family pet, coarse language, crying, coarse language

Reader’s dealing with the loss of her childhood furry friend, Regina finds out and makes her feel better.

“Are you coming in today, babe?” Regina asked, phone held between her ear and her shoulder as she shut her locker door.

“No, sorry.”

“That’s okay, do you need anything?”

“No, no. I’m alright, Regina. Just need a day off.” You cleared your throat, silently hoping that she doesn’t ask more questions.

“Okay.” She agreed, though she sounded slightly unconvinced, “I’ll bring you your homework if there’s any, but text me if you want anything, yeah?”

“Okay, Regina.” You muttered, “Thanks.”

There was a pause.

“See you later, G.” You spoke up first to fill the tense moment.

“See you after class, baby.”

After Regina hung up, you put your phone away and went back to sleep. You already had something to eat for breakfast and didn’t feel like doing anything since you were still tired from your lack of sleep the day before. You were home alone, too— your Mom and Dad were at work. So it wasn’t like you had anyone else to talk to. Your friends were all at school now, so was your girlfriend. So, sleep was your best option to pass time.

Unfortunately, your sleep was pretty restless. Around noon, you were so annoyed by your inability to fall asleep that you got out of bed and made your way down to the kitchen where you chugged an ice cold glass of water. After that, you made your way to the garage and ran on the treadmill. It wasn’t until you heard the doorbell ringing that you stopped running. Out of curiosity, you walked back inside the house to answer the door. Of course, out of habit, you looked through the peephole. But whoever it was, was likely long gone. You opened the door and obviously saw no one, and nothing at first. But, you then spotted fast food takeout bags on the table next to the door for packages and food delivery. You certainly did not order this one but there was a note taped onto the bag.

“Enjoy your lunch. ♥ Regina.”

Bringing the bags inside, you set them down on the kitchen island before you went upstairs to grab your phone so that you could send Regina a thank-you text. Once that was done, your hunger kicked in and you decided to eat even though you wanted to shower first since you were all sweaty from the run. But it’s been a few hours since the morning, after all so you decided to just leave the shower for later.

You were sad, so you did your best to do whatever made yourself feel better. You knew that not going to school for the day was the right choice because you definitely wouldn’t have been able to focus at all. Yesterday, you had to say goodbye to your childhood best friend, a beagle that’s been in your life for as long as you could remember. So that wound was still fresh. He’s been with you through pretty much every single milestone in your life. It was a long time coming, but, damn it hurt extra bad because he watched you grow up and you watched him grow old.

After lunch, you cleared the table and curled up on the couch to watch your comfort movie. Halfway through, Regina sends you a voice memo to ask how you were doing. You gave her a bland, but truthful text back. She must be on her own lunch break now given the time of day. Then, your phone was long forgotten once again and your focus returned to the movie. Unexpectedly, you dozed off. You dozed off so you wouldn’t cry. When you woke up, you saw someone in the living room and you nearly screamed.

“Regina. It’s you.” You squinted.

“Of course it’s me, silly.” She bites back a laugh that turns into a smirk, “Nice nap?”

You shook your head and looked at her. She immediately got it and just sat down next to you, wrapping her arms around you securely.

“It’s gonna be okay.” She said softly.

“I know.” Your voice shook, “It’s just hard right now.”

“I got you something.” She stroked your hair, pressing a kiss to your head, “Well, some things.” You spotted the plastic bag on the coffee table, then you nodded, letting her reach forward to grab the bag.

“A few snacks and sweets. And this stuffed dog. I know, it’s not the same. It’s not a replacement, but I hope it can be your buddy while you get back up on your feet.”

“How’d you know?” You muttered, holding the stuffed beagle she bought you and looking at it.

“Your Mom texted me earlier, she’s worried about you.” You said nothing and only snuggled closer, now hugging that little toy she got you close.

“What were you watching?”

Your brows furrowed together trying to recall what you were watching before you fell asleep. “Toy Story 2, I think.”

“That’s a good one. We’re not watching the fourth one, though.”

You managed a chuckle, “I know. I don’t claim part four either.” Her arms around you tighten, “You wanna watch the third one?”

“Not really.” You told her, “You?”

“You pick, babe. I don’t really know what to watch either.”

You pondered for a moment, “Modern Family?”

“Good choice.” She agreed, handing you the remote, “Want some Oreos?”

“Yeah.” You nodded tearfully. She tilted your chin so you were looking at her, “You’ll be okay. I promise. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but with time…just know you’ve got it. Okay? He’s lived a long and very happy life with you as his best friend. He knows you love him, and you know he loves you too. It’s just time for that good boy to rest now.”

“Thanks, G.” You let out an unsteady breath, nodding your head in determination, “That’s really sweet, thank you.” She pecks you gently on the lips, giving you a smile, “I love you.”

“I know, I love you too. Thank you for being here with me.”

“Of course, always, baby.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

This took terribly long, I’m so sorry anon😖 but I’m currently trying to clear my requests before I start any new fics of my own🙂‍↕️

[hotchreids-girl]

Would you kiss me [S.R]

Summary : A heated hurtful argument moment with Spencer Reid turns into being in the interrogation room alone with him .

Paring: Spencer Reid ! Fem!BAU!reader

Genre: angst/hurt/comfort

Content warning: heated hurtful argument both never been kissed before.

Word count 1K

Author notes this is part of the Teddy-ber event by @angellsell So I’m very nervous and scared to enter this event but I like a challenge and I love Spencer Reid I hope you love this and it lives up to your expectations but if you can see how nervous i am eek I did my best to proof read this was fun I’m just nervous since I’m newbie at fan fiction

I’ve always wanted to be the one in the integration room with Spencer Reid .

The song while writing this

You had been a part of the BAU for a few years now, and that is how long you've known Dr. Spencer Reid—the brilliant genius with striking brown eyes, tall and slightly awkward in his own charming way. His mind worked at lightning speed, unfurling the intricacies of human behavior in a way that left you in awe. He was handsome in a way he was completely unaware of, which only added to his appeal. You admired him, not just for his intellect but for his kindness, humor, and the way he made you feel understood.

But then there was the incident that changed everything. You were deep in the middle of a case where the tension was palpable, and emotions ran high. In the heat of the moment, something in the air snapped. You found yourself embroiled in a heated argument with Spencer—his voice elevated as he expressed his frustration. “you’re not thinking this through! You’re putting everyone at risk!” His words felt like a stab to your heart, especially when he addressed you by your full name.

“Why can’t you just trust me?” you yelled back, your voice shaky with anger and hurt. It was the first time you had seen this side of Reid, and it made your stomach twist painfully. After a few more back-and-forth exchanges, you rushed away from him, needing space to gather your thoughts. The only place you could think of was the interrogation room—a place that usually breathed tension, but right now felt like the only sanctuary.

As you stepped inside and closed the door, reality struck. Tears started to roll down your cheeks, a mix of frustration and a feeling of deep sadness that you couldn’t quite articulate. You sank into one of the chairs, burying your face in your hands. It felt like a lifetime before you heard the soft knock on the door.

Hey can I come in please? It was Spencer’s voice. Panic flooded your veins. No you thought to yourself How did he find you? —You weren’t ready to see him , “You took a deep breath, trying to gather yourself, but your heart was racing. When he opened the door, his eyes widened at the sight of your tears. Without hesitating, he stepped into the room and came closer to you.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice laced with concern. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He hesitated as he reached out, gently wiping away the tears that continued to fall. His touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. You pulled away, desperation clawing at your insides as you tried to cool your swirling emotions.

“Spencer,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just give me a moment.” You sat back in the chair, heart racing, trying to find the words to fix the pieces of this fragile moment. Silence settled between you, heavy and loaded.

“Say something, please,” Spencer urged after a moment, his eyes searching yours. You looked up at him, and for the first time, you could see how vulnerable he was, an echo of the frustration that had just transpired.

“I…I never thought you would go off like that on me,” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. There was a hurt behind your words that whispered of something deeper than mere disagreement.

“I know. Me neither,” Spencer replied, his brow furrowed with regret. “I just—”

“Spence,” you interrupted, wanting to steer the conversation toward lighter waters, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he replied, shifting in his seat, his posture indicating a mix of curiosity and nervous energy.

You bit your lower lip, suddenly unsure about this question, feeling the complexity of the moment weigh on your heart. “What do you think of me?”

He shifted again, clearly searching for the right words. “Well, you’re brilliant and kind and… and you care deeply about people. Honestly, I admire you more than you know,” he admitted, a soft blush creeping onto his cheeks.

Your heart swelled at his words, but an unexpected question bubbled to the surface. “Spencer, have you ever been kissed before?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Um, no,” he said, almost sheepishly. “Have you?”

“No,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper as your heart raced in anticipation of where this conversation might lead.

He looked at you, uncertainty mixing with something else—maybe curiosity or a powerful yearning.

“So… could you, I mean, would you kiss me?” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them, vulnerability and hope dripping from your voice.

Spencer’s gaze held yours, and for a long moment, the world around you faded away. “ are you serious?”

You nodded, heart pounding. The space between you felt electric, every unsaid word crackling in the air. “I think… I think I want to.”

The moment seemed to stretch on forever as his expression shifted, something akin to disbelief mingling with a spark of excitement shining in his eyes. “I want to too,” he breathed.

Tentatively, he leaned closer, the air thick with anticipation and all the tension that had built up between you two. Your instincts kicked in, and you closed the gap, your lips meeting softly in a hesitant kiss. It felt like time stood still, a mixture of everything you both had kept bottled inside. His lips were warm against yours, exploring gently yet passionately, as if both of you were discovering something new and exhilarating.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, eyes locked.

“ Wow Spencer says I never thought it could feel this incredible your heart racing at his words .

With your fingers tanged up , moving in slow motion, you lean in on his chest putting your head on his chest Spence I’m not sure what this means if it even means anything but can we just stay here a moment longer please? Yes he said softly.

[starrieisdelusional]

why kairi might be the one who manipulated sora's memory

yes you read that right, and no i did not mis-type this (if you're thinking hey that should be namine!)

i was going back a few times to kh3 and i found many patterns and cutscenes in 3 that can be compared to previous installments of the game, even side by side, this one particularly caught my eye:

crazy am i right

so remember that scene in 3 where sora falsely exclaimed "the light in the darkness" to be kairi? (it's actually riku) where sora and kairi goes enters the light to made it back to the real world

previous clip in link because tumblr isn't working with me ("riku, answer me!!" comparison with "okay! i have to protect them (aitsu)! Namine can you hear me?")

as you've seen in the comparison i realized it probably a direct paralell to namine's fake meteor shower scene back in COM Sora's side. And these lines of dialogue in particular interest me

it got me thinking, and i think that kairi purposely did something to sora's memory at some point in their lives. The exact when i'm not too sure, but she had inserted herself into some of riku's part in sora's life as sora's taisetsu na hito (special someone)

i know this sounds crazy, but i think there's a valid reason to this theory

Why??

the motive is clear: that kairi is lonely. i personally relate to her character struggle, loneliness can be suffocating, just like how namine portrayed hers that resulted to the events in COM

kairi's main theme has always been about 'seperation' and being left behind by sora and riku. so it would make sense for her to crave attention

kairi might feel sad that sora and riku doesn't pay attention to her unlike how they pay attention to each-other, so i don't see it as off character for her to insert herself into a fake picture if she had the chance, especially as the love interest of her crush

she even said this back in KH1 which sora responded with "Huh!? What's gotten into you?"

or is it done out of malicious intentions? there might be a possibility for that, but i don't think it is as it goes against kingdom hearts thematic story that stays consistent over the years, that portrays every character struggle in a sympathetic way that honestly you can relate too

(xehanort is even a subject to this in dark road)

i think that kairi felt really guilty about it and didn't realized the impact that she had done to sora and riku's relationship. or maybe she thrived for it, because even if the affection is not real, kairi is still loved and remembered by someone as their precious person, and it feels nice especially with someone like sora

snippet from kh3 novel

in the novels, there's a strong hint that kairi cut her hair because riku cut his, which contributes a lot to the theory of kairi wanting to be sora's precious person (riku) where she somewhat mimics his behavior (she probably realized deep down sora cares more about riku than her)

Passing Memories

i think this also made sense lore wise, because why else would sora suddenly lost his memory of riku? and i don't think sora's sort-of infatuation with kairi is caused by comphet alone

forgotten promises is a recurring theme in sora and riku's relationship, everything up to this point has always leads to hidden thoughts and burried memories, you have to dig deeper if you want to find a connection between sora and riku, the examples currently are:

whatever is happening between soriku

passing memories jp name of oblivion keyblade that is owned by roxas

riku is the TRUE light

necklace theory: the fact that THE necklace is everywhere in the game but is never brought up like ever

aitsu (check full discussion on the internet)

COM the game (just everything related to COM, the only game with riku and sora beside DDD? it's sus if you ask me)

compared to sora and kairi who's relationship always seems shallow and on the surface. i think it made more sense with the 'why' factor answered, because every time sora is thinking of riku, kairi would replace herself in his position, just like the light-tunnel scene in kh3

the 'oathkeeper' (promise charm) and 'oblivion' (passing memories) also reflected sora keeping his promise to kairi, but forgetting about his to riku, riku might not be affected in the same way that sora does, so this happens:

+ the multiple and many instances, riku is straight up covered by kairi

some of those instances:

kairi is true darkness (ex: sea is metaphor for darkness)

xion (is said to be kairi but proven also to also be riku)

the final world

Power?

honestly, i think kairi is more than she lets on (like LUXU), let's talk about her nobody:

i think it's already suspicious that namine has the power to mess with sora's memories (because she's from kairi's body and sora's heart?) when existing nobodies like roxas and xion for example has powers directly tied to their somebodies (kingdom key), xehanort doing xehanort things, marluxia possessing the same rose petals as his somebody counterpart, (and a lot more...)

so, with a game like kingdom hearts, does namine's powers really came out of no where? we know that sora doesn't have the ability to manipulate people's memories, so who else could it be?? kairi's powers might even be more powerful

this would also aligns with the theory 'riku is light-kairi is darkness' because even at front value the game is telling you 'hey kairi is LIGHT and riku is DARKNESS' time and time again its always the reverse in certain situations, but you never got to wonder what it actually mean

yes riku is the light, but why is kairi the darkness?? yes she sort-of brings demise as xehanort's pawn, but is it really just that?

lastly, kairi is a princess of heart, and might even came from the lost masters era as it is decorated and spammed with stars (every symbol is replaced by stars i'm not joking)

it's very on-theme with the 'traitor' plot point that has been consistent in every khux game, so... (i have a theory that kairi is master ava, or master ava is her grandma, OR kairi is mom... or skuld)

in addition to all of this, i also think that kairi can also be a creature, maybe she's actually a chirithy:

however i do think as opposed to riku as a dreameater (spirit), kairi is a nightmare chirithy, as seen in their color pallet (might be a coincidence but who knows)

[everburningpinkphoenix]

From Broken to Reborn: How I Met Adia

It all started back on Sunday, December 1st. After a difficult moment when I lashed out at my friend St4r for her feedback on my content, I made promises to make things right with her. However, this left me feeling heartbroken, mentally broken, upset, misunderstood, and isolated. I didn’t feel like I could post anything on Tumblr anymore, not even about Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, which had always been a huge passion of mine.

On Tuesday, December 3rd, I made major changes to my blog to reflect my mental state. I updated my username, avatar, blog description, banner, and background color—everything. My blog became a place that felt empty and disconnected from who I truly was. I felt like I couldn’t interact with anyone, not even my close friends.

The next few days were tough. I felt like I had lost my confidence and my enthusiasm to post anything. On top of that, one of my followers messaged me, telling me to "move on" and post content unrelated to Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, which only discouraged me more. I didn’t know how to move forward, and it felt like my situation was getting worse.

Then, Peace messaged me, expressing concern after seeing how much I had changed on my blog. She wanted to know what was going on, but I was too afraid to tell her, fearing it would cause a conflict with St4r. I felt stuck, unsure of how to express myself without causing more damage. Eventually, I was able to tell Peace everything that had happened on that night, and she helped me start to feel understood.

But then, Peace reached out to me again. She introduced me to her friend, Adia (@wanderfan2000), and called her for help, explaining that I was a friend in need. Adia was there for me when I needed it the most, offering a space to share what had been weighing on me. I felt ready to unload everything, and Adia's response was kind and understanding. She simply asked, "Alrighty, so what's going on? What is the trouble?" That moment opened the door for me to share everything that had happened from Sunday night through to Thursday, December 6th.

After I opened up, I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders. Adia listened and provided me with hope and support. She checked in with me when I felt sad or upset, always reminding me that I wasn’t alone. Her presence, along with Peace's, helped heal the emotional scars left by St4r. With their help, I was able to regain my strength and move on from the past.

Thanks to Peace and Adia, I found the courage to update my blog. It became a reflection of me being reborn from the ashes of pain and struggle. Although I may never forget what happened that week, I’ve learned not to let my past mistakes interfere with my passion for blogging.

And I’m so grateful that Peace brought Adia into my life. She has truly become my guardian angel, always looking out for me. Our friendship blossomed into something beautiful, and I now have a true friend who’s there for me through thick and thin. Adia, thank you for being the amazing friend you are. I’m so lucky to have you by my side.

This is the story of how I met Adia and became best friends with her.

Thank you, Adia @wanderfan2000 for everything, for being a true friend and my guardian angel.

[koffeesfancy]

21. "we've done worse" | Riri Williams x Reader

Summary: The words that broke you.

Rating : PG-13

Genre: Romance, angst

Word Count: 558

A/N: Seeing as this is an entire series now, I'm going to need a name for it. Suggestions?

Taglist: @lyfeofbilly @prettymrswright @onyxstones-world @pvnks0ul

It had been six months since you gave in, let the walls close around you, and called it life. The marble countertops and sleek furniture were supposed to signify stability, success, even love. But you knew better. This wasn’t a life; it was a holding pattern.

You had stopped working long ago, Riri’s insistence that she’d “handle everything” making that decision for you. The only part of your old self that remained was your evening dental assistant classes. Even that felt more like a privilege Riri allowed you than a goal you were working toward. She’d moved you into a beautiful apartment, draped you in jewelry, and left you to sit with the loneliness of it all. Most days, she was gone—doing whatever it was that brought in the money. You stopped asking.

But today, it was impossible to ignore how alone you were. It was the anniversary of Monica’s death—one year since the robbery that had taken her life. You hadn’t even been able to attend her funeral, locked away in a cell while her family mourned. That pain, that absence, lived in your chest, sharper than ever.

You had asked Riri to be with you today. You asked her to come with you to the candle-lighting at Monica’s auntie’s house. She had agreed, but as always, there was a caveat. “I gotta take care of something real quick,” she’d said before disappearing for hours.

By the time the clock struck eight, the gathering was over. You stared at your phone, the missed moments heavy in your chest, before dialing her again. When she finally picked up, her voice was impatient.

“What?”

Your words caught in your throat before tumbling out. “I missed it, Riri. The candle-lighting. Monica’s family—her auntie asked about me, and I wasn’t—”

Riri snorted, cutting you off. “And? We’ve done worse.”

The casual cruelty of it hit you harder than you expected. “Are you serious right now?” you whispered, but she had already hung up.

The silence in the apartment was suffocating. Her words echoed in your head, mingling with the grief and frustration that never seemed to let up. It was getting ridiculous—no, it had been ridiculous for a long time.

You put the phone down and stared at the empty space around you. Every gift, every luxury Riri provided felt like a mockery now. She wasn’t here. She was never really here.

Your chest heaved as you tried to breathe through the anger and sadness coursing through you. Something inside you shifted, broke, and you found yourself heading to the bedroom. The bag you’d packed and unpacked so many times before sat at the back of the closet. This time, your hands didn’t hesitate. You threw in your clothes, toiletries, and anything else you could grab.

The act of packing felt final in a way it hadn’t before. You weren’t even sure where you’d go, but staying here was no longer an option. This place, this life, Riri’s dismissiveness—it was erasing you. You couldn’t let it.

When the bag was full, you zipped it up and stood there for a moment, staring at the door. The weight of your decision settled over you, but it didn’t feel as heavy as staying would have.

This time, you weren’t waiting for an apology or a promise. This time, you were leaving for yourself.