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hitlikehammers · 3 days ago

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POV: when you overhear your boyfriend’s bandmates who ⛔️do not like you⛔️ talking to him—about YOU

“Be real though, Ed. Harrington? You can’t actually be serious, here.” Steve doesn’t like to eavesdrop, like, on principle. Which is to say he totally does it. He just doesn’t wholly approve of it, or think it’s a very good habit to have, while still doing it. “You got me,” Eddie sighs, longer and deeper than can be taken wholly seriously. “I’m running my longest successful con to date.”

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4, established relationship, corroded coffin, as in: the gang’s all here and being VERY JUDGEMENTAL of eddie’s taste in men, and maybe steve had to pick eddie up from practice today so he overhears it WHOLLY WITHOUT INTENDING TO OKAY?, no one ever REALLY want to hear what the people they love really think of them when said people don’t know who all’s actually listening, true love, declarations of feelings, it’s actually really fucking hard to stand up to your friends, happy ending♥️

for @steddielovemonth day ten: "We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." —Dr. Seuss

also! Unnamed Freak is Doug for the purpose of this fic because the book can fuck itself I say so 🖤

“Be real though, Ed,” the voice that filters through, and holds Steve’s hand from pushing the car door shut loud enough to notice, is fairly reasonable, like trying to talk down a suggestion absurd enough to send someone to the ER—which means, of the subjects at hand? It’s gotta be Jeff.

“You can’t actually be serious, here.”

Steve doesn’t like to eavesdrop, like, on principle.

Which is to say he totally does it.

He just doesn’t wholly approve of it, or think it’s a very good habit to have, while still doing it.

“You got me,” Eddie deadpans, but it’s like, venom-laced. It stings just to hear and Steve’s struck with how much his life’s changed since Spring Break, and more still since…well.

Since Eddie.

Because Steve is well aware the man can cut glass with how sharp his tongue can get, they did go to high school together whether they ran in the same circles or not.

It’s just strikes Steve in the moment that not once since Vecna, has Eddie turns that tongue on him.

Now, other uses of his tongue—

“I’m running my longest successful con to date. Yep, totally pulled it over on all you bitches,” and where it could be playful, every single word is sharpened to stab, to pierce, to drag the wound out so it bleeds, like a shiv to remind someone where they fucked up, in perpetuity.

“Please applaud.”

And oh, even Steve flinches at that tone, and he’s not even the target. Hell, he’s still in the driveway—he doesn’t make a rule of crashing band practice, no matter whose parents’ garage they’re using; Eddie’s van is just regularly in the shop for one thing or another, so he’s gotta come get his man. But he doesn’t, like, push his way in. Sometimes doesn’t even get out of the driver’s seat. He knows Eddie would more than welcome him; has the handful of times he’s ventured to step in to apologize for interrupting but remind him they have to pick up the shitheads. But one: Eddie is alone in his welcome, and like, the polar opposite of the other three guys, who range from staring daggers at Steve to sneering so scrunched up to the nose that it’d give Carol Perkins at her snittiest a run for her money.

And Steve wouldn’t have made it this far if he didn’t know how to recognise where he’s not wanted, and learn how to make the calculated decision of whether to walk or push his way in. And much as he loves Eddie? Steve actually wants his friends to eventually come around from probably, like, muttering ancestral curses under their breaths at him or something.

Plus, from what Steve understands? Jam sessions are personal. Sacred. Eddie had blushes and stammered the first time he let Steve listen in on works in progress; and Steve had rewarded him for the gift of it liberally and with genuine gusto. It’s earned him repeat performances on the regular, but Steve gets it’s a private thing in general. And these guys don’t know him, don’t presently care to—don’t trust him.

He figures it’s like…masturbating in front of someone. The art thing, the depth of making music and stuff. Showing your soul a little bit, losing control for the betterment of the final product.

Now, he and Eddie definitely have masturbated together, it’s actually fantastic foreplay, or even just a deliciously sloppy go on its own. But that’s neither here nor there. And also totally fucking different.

Steve really doesn’t want Eddie masturbating in front of anyone other than him, ever again. Steve’s sure as shit not looking to on his end; definitely not with the other members of Corroded fucking Coffin.

The metaphor might have gotten away from him. But you get the picture.

“No, man,” and that’s, that’s Gareth’s voice, Steve’s almost sure. Sharper. Concerned but also caustic on the undertow. “It’s just,” he snorts, the disbelieving sort: “this can’t be real.”

Okay, yeah. Tone plus actual words add up.

“Yeah, just,” Doug laughs a little nervous, like of all of them, Eddie’s verbal attack had the most weight in tempering his response of the three of them; “blink twice if you’re being held against your will.”

They all chuckle, but it’s toned down the whole way around—even Steve can clock that. These guys are boisterous when left to their devices, Steve’s taken note of that. Mostly watching from the sidelines—almost exclusively when they don’t know he’s there to watch.

Again: does not condone eavesdropping.

Does not try at all to refrain from doing it.

“I mean, you don’t expect us to believe you’re actually fucking him,” and oh, yeah, okay: Steve was pretty sure he was the topic conversation here, and despite some of the setbacks of recent years, he’s not insecure when it comes to relationships especially.

He’s definitely the only one fucking Eddie. And Eddie’s the only one fucking him.

And while he doesn’t really hold it against these guys for being wary of him—he wasn’t really a perpetrator of their high school woes, but he definitely didn’t do anything to make them less…woeful—so he’s mostly bummed about it for Eddie’s sake, and on principle, but like, seriously.

Doubting Steve successfully scoring Eddie Munson? Like, Eddie’s a catch, Steve of ll people is well aware, but. Steve’s also been long past fishing the shallow end of the pond, y’know?

Give him some credit.

“Right,” Steve narrows back in on what’s happening in the garage that he’s definitely feeling less guilty bout, seeing as he’s definitely a subject of the debate unfolding, but Eddie sounds…angry. Pissed off in that way he gets when he’s fed the fuck up.

“I’m out,” Steve hears scraping of equipment, the guitar case flipped open; “can’t actually make it next week,” he adds like a footnote.

It’s clear within a second he’s the only one who takes it with that same…energy.

“But we have to practice before the open mic—” Jeff, ever the voice of reason, sounds baffled; on his way to ticked off but not quite there yet.

Eddie, however—as is his wont in this type of mood—could not give two shits where the people around him land on the anger-o-meter; he’s exceeded them, even if only in his own head, and they are all therefore irrelevant to his very responsible decision to put distance between himself and doing something stupid he can’t take back.

It’s not the nicest way to deal but, honestly? Steve’s mostly just proud of Eddie for sticking with a coping mechanism that, while not without consequences, generally works better than most.

“I’ll see you guys in two, then. Probably.” And the case clicks shut, definitive, and Steve’s proud of that too; that Eddie’s not digging a hole when the guys re trying to bait him, intentionally or not, over Steve.

Steve doesn’t need Eddie to complicate his band, his friendships, over what the two of them have. One, it’s not their fucking business. And two?

Steve doesn’t thing he’s being self-important in saying he and Eddie…are bigger, and more, than even the very beat high school band.

Not that Steve would ever ask Eddie to choose or some bullshit like that. And he really does believe Eddie’s going places, if that’s what he decides he wants. But…there’s that.

Then there is them.

Different, like, stratospheres.

“What the fuck came up that you can’t make it next week? When we’re staring down our first actual shot at Battle of the Bands this year,” and yeah, of course, if anyone’s gonna try to drag the whole thing out, it’s Gareth. Kid’s got a fucking temper.

“Something more important.”

Which yeah, that’s what was going through Steve’s mind, basically, but—

“The hell could be more—“

“I have plans,” Eddie hisses, viper-quick and fucking deadly, shuts them all right up for it, but then he spins a 180–preens so big Steve swears he can hear his shoulders go back and his chest puff out:

“It’s my anniversary.”

So…yeah. Just because it was where Steve’s head had just been at doesn’t mean his whole chest goes all gooey to hear it said out loud.

And in front of Eddie’s band, who…they aren’t hiding from, but they have discussed keeping kinda mum around. For the same kinds of reasons Steve’s been privy to just in the past couple minutes.

But then Eddie’s voice follows the feeling in Steve’s chest like they’re tethered there, and honestly, more times than not?

Steve thinks they just might actually be, and he’s not proven wrong with the way Eddie halfway coos:

“Our anniversary.”

“Your what?”

Jeff, again, is that middle ground: actually confused, laced with being angry that Eddie’s ducking out.

“Six months,” Eddie answers, soft-like, a little dreamy but in this way that’s rooted somehow still, and in being struck all over again by a level of shock Steve understands, sometimes feels in reverse, but still doesn’t understand being felt so deep as it sounds, now, when it’s applied to…him.

It’s wild y’know?

“I’m like,” Steve hears Eddie’s curls brush against something as he shakes his head—Steve’s money’s on him crouched by his case, or having it already slung over his shoulder:

“Never thought I’d get something to celebrate like that in the first place, but get to keep it, that long without fucking it up?”

Steve, again, wants to give up the pretense and walk the fuck in there and kiss the shit out of his boyfriend because one, same, but two?

Dumbass.

Steve goddamn adores him.

“You mean, with Harrington?” Gareth’s spitting and Steve just shakes his head, a little sad—he doesn’t know what’s crawled up that kid’s ass about him, man; he’s not so much younger that Steve never saw him or didn’t know of him but godDamn: the circles he ran in at the time weren’t the ones doing shit yet when they were in the same elementary school, Steve was barely popular in middle school, and come high school the worst anyone he knew did to the frosh was bang them into a locker—not great, but.

Not worth this shit. And the worst part is if he doesn’t know what’s crawled he did to really piss Gareth off this bad? He can’t even try to Harrington-charm his way back into the guy’s tolerable category. Like, even his best fucking not-pot brownie recipe didn’t sway the fucker.

“Yes,” Eddie is answering, the answer emphatic, like he’s brimming with feeling over it, but then clipped too, like demonstrating that he was brimming and is now being forced to clip it all backis very much the intent: “of course I mean with Steve, who the fuck else?”

It’s not lost on Steve how Eddie says his name. Ever. All the name.

But right now, how he’s making a point to say it in that warm, kinda…beloved way, when anyone else uses his last name in a way that’s anything-but.

“You cannot be—” Gareth scoffs, Steve can imagine him throwing up his hands, that sort of deal, but then Eddie comes in, and it’s a tone Steve’s only ever hear when he’s about to run a campaign into the ground where the characters may never recover, and if somehow manage it, they’ll wish they hadn’t:

“Oh, I am deadly serious.”

Because it’s not Steve’s character, but in defense of Steve’s relationship, that tone trickles something molten through his veins and prickles up his spine and…he’s gone have to stick that one in his back pocket to explore at a later date, for sure.

“Six months?”

Jeff—and Steve kinda likes Jeff, and not for the reason his bandmates would like, that he kicks around Hawkins after graduation, too, but more because Steve knows why; that’s to make more money for a college outside Indiana, and Steve thinks that’s fucking cool—but it’s here where Jeff dips fully away from being angry to being stupefied. Steve lets himself smirk at nothing because fuck yes: him and Eddie.

Six whole goddamn months.

“I was actually gonna ask you guys to come over soon, introduce him properly and stuff,” Eddie says, the disappointment in his voice again; Steve’s niggling desire to go and hug him from behind, maybe kiss under his ear a little, back in full force.

“He picks you up from practice, we see him,” Doug pipes back up, likewise confused, but Steve just takes the useful confirmation that no one did catch on that he pulled up ages ago, now.

“We know who Steve Harrington is—” Gareth snaps, protests in the way that betrays his eye-rolling, his thin-wearing patience.

“No!”

And that comes out of Eddie fierce enough to echo down at least half the block they’re on—seems like Eddie’s patience was worn out a while ago.

“You don’t!”

And everyone is silent in that way Steve knows all too well: when shit’a gone down but now you’re waiting in the edge for the worse thing to hit.

Then it does:

“And it’s a good thing I didn’t bring it up because you dipshits aren’t ready,” Eddie snaps, says dipshitso different from how he does with the Party, theirParty, their kids; he says it here with something real fucking close to disgust.

“Asking hostage questions, fuck off,” he huffs, and Steve hears Eddie’s footsteps, can’t tell if he’s gonna leave it at that, come find Steve and know he’s been standing there but that’ll be fine, it’s not like Steve wasn’t going to let him know as soon as they left—but then:

“Look,” and Eddie sounds the way Steve sounds when he’s pinching the bridge of his nose to fight a growing migraine, the sting of tears for all sorts of pain behind his eyes, and that hurts to hear from his boyfriend, like, a lot.

It fucking hurts.

“I am not just fucking him,” Eddie growls through the bridge-pinching pain; “I mean, fuck yes, I am, but,” and Steve hears the way he swallows all the way down the drive:

“I’m in this for the long haul,” Eddie tells his bandmates like throwing down a gauntlet; “and if you can’t respect me enough, and my choices, that stings,” Steve knows Eddie shrugs then: “but I’ll live.”

Steve’s about a millisecond from saying fuck it, opening the door just to slam it to announce his approach, and then going to physically grab his boyfriend, drag him to the car, and park in the abandoned lot down from the Wheelers’ neighborhood to kiss him senseless because that’s the closest place he can think of and he doesn’t think he’ll make it to either of their homes before he can’t fucking handle himself.

“But if you are gonna disrespect the man I love, no. Absolutely not.”

Eddies voice is a deadly sort of whisper. Steve would cower at it, the way it washes through a person, if he hadn’t just…said.

That.

“You love him?”

And for what Steve thinks is the first time since he climbed out of the car and committed to listening where he wasn’t invited, Gareth sounds…muted. Genuinely asking a question.

Steve, for his own part, kinda expected that he’d be more breathless, heart racing and shit, to hear the answer but in reality?

“Of course I love him.”

Steve already knew that in his cells, in his bones.

In his steady, not all-that-fast but particularly-especially-happily beating heart.

“Have you guys, like, said it and stuff?”

And of course Steve already knows that answer, both the literal one and the one that matters more, but he does perk up a bit, curious to hear what—if anything of note—Eddie chooses to give away here.

“He has,” Eddie says, and now…now maybe Steve should stop listening because this part, the way Eddie says that as flat fact—Steve doesn’t knowthis part beyond speculation. But…

“I wanted to, like,” and eddies voice can’t hide the way he’s gotta have that soft smile, the one he used to hide behind his hair before Steve started pulling it back to see in full, so now he only brings his hair out just to tease, to okay.

“I don’t think I’ve wanted much in my whole life, but he’s,” and Steve thinks he hears how Eddie chews his bottom lip for a second, in the subtlest click of how it slips free before Eddie takes a deep breath and—

“He doesn’t know what he’s worth,” Eddie starts, a little mournful almost, even, and Steve is unexpectedly glued to the spot in his fucking Nikes.

“He doesn’t understand that I’d sell the sun and the moon just to keep him,” Eddie’s saying, and with passion. With whole-ass honesty. And here, maybe, is where Steve gets to have some of the heart:fluttery feeling after all:

“He comes out the gate with the whole you don’t have to say it back and I just,” Eddie sighs, sniffs a little before heaving another breath deep enough to stretch his shirt, which Steve’s not imagining or anything, at all;

“I couldn’t say it, not right then, and risk him everthinking it was something I’d done to like, match. Like that I didn’t mean it with everything I’ve got, when I mean it with everything I’ve got and then also everything else. Like, anywhere. Ever.”

Steve realized he’d stopped breathing at some point when the little dots start floating in front of his eyes and he sucks in a shaking breath because: he’s known Eddie loves him. Unshakeably.

But, but all this—

“I couldn’t say it and have him ever wondered if I wouldn’t rip my heart out of my chest just to keep his safe.”

And of-fucking-course Steve’s pulse is running fucking riot about how much he’s in love right now, make no goddamn mistake. Jesus, he—

“Fuck.”

And Steve has never heard Gareth Emerson pushed just this side of speechless but: that’s the best way Steve can describe the kind of breathless wonder he says it with, like watching a rare bird take flight.

“You mean it.”

And Steve can pick out Eddie’s huffs and categorize them, on demand at this point: he doesn’t need to see the eye-roll to know Eddie’s deemed the expression of pure shock to be so beneath him in this specific context that he’s deemed it unworthy of any more attention.

His heart’s not jumping that loud to have missed it. So.

Steve just kinda grins toward the blacktop under his shoes.

“Why didn’t you,” Doug starts, still—usually, really, in Steve’s limited experience at least—the peacekeeper, the one who’s most invested at the human level when he’s not getting swept up in whatever the rest of the gang has deemed the cool thing to laugh at or make fun of at any given moment.

The huff Eddie gives this time is his incredulous one, which allows for just the slightest bit more consideration:

“The fuck do you think?”

The slightest bit, being the operative point.

“I’d hoped you’d take it better but,” Eddie adds, and there’s less drama in it than Steve might have expected. He’s being serious with them, and he sounds…disappointed.

Steve kinda want to make some kind of noise, give away his position, and just…hug Eddie tight from behind, if nothing else. Be there. Solid against him, wrapped up around him. Never wavering. Always at his back as much as at his side.

But Eddie’s not done:

“I’m not even asking you to like him, just be decent,” and it sounds like it hurts him to say as much, and Steve knows why; he genuinely despises when anyone thinks Lea with a the very beat thing about Steve. Steve believes this to be n unreasonable standard, and has expressed as much to Eddie who nods and smiles and kisses Steve’s forehead and does absolutely nothing to change his stance, but deep down?

Steve fucking feels so…loved for it.

“And like I said,” Steve can hear the judgement in Eddie’s tone clear as day; “you’re not ready, and I’m not putting him in that kind of situation.”

Steve sucks on the inside of his cheek, lest his grin at the way Eddie is not just defending him, but…protecting him, not his honor but his heart…

No ones ever even tried that before. Steve may not need it, or maybe he just learned he couldn’t survive needing it.

Getting it now…now it’s just…

Wow.

“And I’m in this for keeps, like, this is a forever type thing, so long as he wants it,” Eddie saying, explaining the color of a sky to a small child like what these words are that fundamental, that unalterably true. “So—”

“We’ve known each other forever, man,” Gareth eventually mutters, sounds indignant, but mostly gutted.

Steve knows before it happens that it’s not gonna make a difference.

“And we can still know each other. Just not everything, anymore,” and Eddie does sound a little sad but he’s…he’s a monolith, unshakable. “I don’t trust you with the parts that revolve around him, yet,” and Steve feels more than hears the ways his friends deflate, maybe shrink for being deemed so…insufficient. In the eyes of their ostensible leader, no less.

“Eddie, we didn’t,” Jeff starts, slow, and he doesn’t sound remorseful but—Eddie has all those coping mechanisms for a reason, right?

Because he’s quick to feeling, good and bad, and sometimes neither is fit to the moment.

Steve can’t help but be kinda glad Eddie doesn’t bother with those mechanisms just now, though, if it means he gets to hear this part:

“I know you didn’t, that’s the fucking problem,” Eddie groans, Steve can see the way he lens, bends at the knees and throws his body around a little in sheer, undiluted exasperation. “

“Because I could tell you he’s changed since school, and that’d be true, but that’s not even it,” and there’s more of the frustrated stomping round, Steve can hear it, but he’s…he’s ready distracted by that thing in his chest that has to has to be tied up in Eddie’s, too, that thing tugging on him to pay the fuck attention.

And who is he to ignore it?

“he was never who we thought he was in school in the first place. He is,” Eddie licks his lips, just to snack them loud:

“He is kind and funny, and goofy, and such a fuckin’ nerd, and he’s smart in these incredible ways where he’s sees what everyone else misses, and he’s protective as fuck and he’s got a heart of gold,” and Eddie’s voice only gets more heartfelt in its own right that longer he goes and Steve just, he’s, it’s—

“And I would tear my skin off just so it doesn’t get so much as a scuff on it,” Eddie ends with the most scathing delivery imaginable: he fucking meansthis shit. And Steve is going o live and die next to this man, scuffed heart still kept safe to the fucking end, he will swear that shit to anyone who needs to hear it.

He is going to have a whole fucking life with Eddie Munson, and love him for every single breath of it.

“And I don’t trust you guys yet not to tempt me to tear off my skin,” Eddie says finally after enough silence to catch his breath, and temper his tone just enough to sound tired; a little dejected. “I don’t trust you with him, and until that changes, we’re still friends,” Eddie sniffs, breathes out long; “you just won’t get to know about that part of me.”

He says it so simple, like he’s not half-cutting off some of the longest, closest friendships he’s ever had, and for Steve.

Steve doesn’t know if it makes him a person, or a really selfish one or whatever, if he doesn’t feel any urge to talk Eddie down, to make him walk it back just a little.

He doesn’t think he cares, though, either way.

“Seems like a really big part of you,” Doug says, deflated entirely.

“It is,” Eddie answers, unapologetic in a way that swells and sparkles in Steve’s ribs. “He is.”

“You’d walk from the band?” Of course Gareth asks, but it’s the first time he sounds small in his words. Like he maybe knows the answer, and isn’t so okay with how he got around to it even before Eddie wishes all doubt:

“In half a fuckin’ heartbeat.” Boom. Done. No hesitation whatsoever.

Less than half-a-fuckin’-heartbeat.

“That’s not what I’m saying I’m doing right now, but,” Eddie laughs a little, and that probably cuts deeper than anything for the boys, Steve suspects, especially when Eddie makes it unquestionable:

“It’s not even a question.”

And…maybe that drives a knife deeper for the band, but for Steve?

Steve kinda wants to…giggle, or some shit. He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted someone who answered a question like that, exactly like that, who talked about Steve exactly like that, without anything to gain, just because they…believed it.

“Jesus,” Gareth mutters, sounds kinda blindsided, kinda thrown and then some.

“If we,” Jeff clears his throat after a long period of quiet; “if we do better, could we meet him someday?” And the way he says it, earnest and shit:, like he wants to at least think about, at least maybe try:

“Like, really meet him?”

Like Eddie means enough that he’ll try, and that sings sweet in Steve’s veins because goddamn straight, his Eddie deserves that from the people hecares about. No matter who or what Steve is, Eddiedeserves that much, and so much more.

But he sounds like even just this is something amazing, Steve can hear the smile in his voice:

“Yeah, man,” he answers Jeff, claps him audibly on the shoulder; “I look forward to it.”

And shit, y’know what?

So does Steve.

“See you in two weeks,” and Eddies footsteps follow, guitar slung over his back for the way his weight falls with each one, but then:

“Eddie!”

That’s Doug; the footsteps stop close to the edge of the garage door as another set rushes to catch up, where he’ll see Steve if he walks much farther, where Steve’s got his hand on the door handle of the car, slowly inching it open to push shut and look wholly-unsuspicious now that Eddie might be followed out to his ride:

“Get him flowers. For your anniversary,” Doug says, tone low like a secret; “I know, like, it might seem like guys wouldn’t want flowers, but,” and Steve actually has to strain to hear the next part:

“My mom gets my dad flowers on his birthday every year, and he lights up like the Fourth of July.”

Steve remembers the first time he ever got flowers. His favorites, even if he thinks he only knew it subconsciously because they were handed to him with the stammering explanation of I don’t even know if you like flowers, or like these ones, but you look at them when we’re out, like, just walking or something and your eyes linger, and these ones just remind me of you and—

Apparently, Steve loves hyacinths. And sunflowers make Eddie think of him.

Because of course Steve’s first gift of flowers came from Eddie.

“Thanks man,” Eddie sounds the lightest, most genuine Steve’s heard him since he pulled up and got out of the car; “they’re already ordered.”

And Doug chuckles, and Steve?

Steve bites down his smile to less exploding-star levels—if he’d just pulled up he doesn’t have a reason, save that Eddie is enough of a reason in Steve’s eyes, his mind, the way his chest expands just thinking on him—as he pulls the car door closed again, loud enough to be noticed.

For Eddie to walk out of the garage fast as anything and meet Steve with a smile of his own that justifies the fuck out of where Steve’s had started, anyway.

All star-bright and everything.

♥️🎸♥️

✨also on ao3✨

btw this is either titled ‘halcyon shoegazing’ or ‘heart in your shoes’ so if you have an opinion you should maybe tell me or something, my brain’s tired and is resisting decisions rn

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here and here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #post s4 #established relationship #corroded coffin #as in: the boys are here #and they DO NOT APPROVE OF STEVE #and think it’s absolutely essential to confront eddie about what the hell he thinks he’s doing with HARRINGTON of all people #and yeah okay: maybe steve OVERHEARS IT ALL #it’s 100% accidental though #eddie’s van is just in the shop! he needs a ride from band practice!#fluff #romance #anniversary #eddie munson: COME DEFEND YOUR MAN #true love #declarations #love confessions #steve harrington gets to feel all warm and gooey about his boyfriend okay? he deserves that #stranger things #steddielovemonth #prompt: we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love #hitlikehammers v words #hitlikehammers writes

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illogicallylogicalthoughts · 3 hours ago

Text

That 12 year old sat down and made something they earnestly, honestly wanted somebody else to see, and they made it because it was something they wanted to see and do.

Flaw, contradiction, inexperience and all, this was something somebody, somewhere, somewhy, wanted me to see.

AI and generative chat bots do not want me to see them or what they make.

The only thing behind them are a series of corporate incentives and code directives.

I talk to it, a server buzzes somewhere, sets our world on fire just a little bit more, the server tracks the foot traffic, website owners pocket the cash, and it spits out a line of text at me, over, and over, and over again.

It's not even that it's soulless. It's cutting out the middle man.

Artists are inconvenient to the industry beyond what they produce. You have to pay them. This, to a person running a company, is unconscionable. They want to make money. They don't want to hear about wants, needs, unions, worker's rights, healthy workspaces. They want money.

Any and call corners that can be cut on the path to not having to put up with that, will.

That twelve year old remains more true to the spirit of writing than any kind of AI or learning machine could ever be, but the people trying to pawn AI off to you don't care, they're just trying to make a mint off of all the CEO's across the world attempting to strangle their workforces out of the industry so they don't have to pay anybody.

AI is consumerism incarnate because it's not made to make anything. It is made to replace. The people behind AI desperately want artists to shut up and be quiet because they want this market, this source of unending cash that they've imagined exists somehow, to become real, so they market it as Art made easy and accessible! You can do it yourself now!

Art is desirable. Not the work and genuine rigor behind it, but the popularity.

People see the numbers, the talk, the engagement, and think that what gives artists the ability to create is some kind of nameless eighth quality you have to be born and imbued with in the crib and after that crucial moment, you can never learn how to ever do it, ever, so they don't learn.

They don't try. They don't put themselves out there. They don't want to do something new. They don't want to create something because they want to share it, to talk about it, to engage with somebody through it.

They don't see it as a craft, something you have to dedicate time to, apply yourself to, learn how to do.

It's a business major's viewpoint. It's not something made to engage with and communicate concepts through. It's a product.

People fire up the website, throw a couple of keywords in a box, stare into the generated slop mish mash of stolen mixed assets, maybe throw a couple of settings over it in Photoshop, nod their heads and say, there, art!

Because, to them, art doesn't mean anything beyond a kind of ephemeral concept that people do sometimes, it means thing you make if you want people to look at you and give you money for.

It's the same people who flock to NFT's and cryptocurrency. It's the same people who cannot engage with and genuinely think of art because they're so emotionally divorced from the concept of creation by the kind of stripped-bare outlook capitalism encourages that it just doesn't click.

It's the same people who get indignant when you confront them when they steal your art. How dare you! I'm just like you! I input a keyword or two, pour my blood sweat and tears out over pressing a single button and smear some lighting layers over it in an image editor, and you say I stole this?

Because they think artists are insignificant. They don't see the people behind what they consume, because they only consume.

It's all they know.

They don't want to create, and they don't want to learn, because they're so far away from the process, so ignorant of what actually goes in to any given piece of art, that they just see it somebody throwing a couple of colors together in a visually pleasing way.

It's the kind of fundamentally incurious nihilism that's been bred so hard into corporate America, and it sickens me to my core.

That twelve year old writing wattpad zero punctuation plothole OOC fic will always be better than character AI, and I love them for it, because they want to make and create and they want ME to see it, and they aren't trying to butcher an entire class of people or kill the planet to do it.

Actually that no punctuation plot hole ooc wattpad fanfic written by that 12 year old will ALWAYS be better than character ai. And I love that 12 year old btw

#sorry for rambling like this on your post #it's meandering and reads like I flayed the voices from a couple of throats #but I felt like I had to say it

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tbaluver · 2 days ago

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Valentine's Day- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, sylus x reader, caleb x reader summary: what they get you for valentine's day and what their date with you would be! tags: fluff fluff + very corny and cheesy a/n: hihi my lovelies! so fun fact i actually really fawking hate this holiday but i wanted to do something for my readers so here are my flowers for you all this holiday (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ i wrote this after the banner trailer came out bc i lowkey wanted something romantic ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ ) and special thanks you to my beta readers, @ilovemitsuya and @deusfoundry mwah ! enjoy reading! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Linkon City had been preparing for Valentine’s day. It was everywhere, from grocery stores, cafes, malls, you couldn’t escape it. He noticed the way you’d eye some of the products so he asked you about it. Before he would always brush off a lot of holidays but the moment you mentioned it was a day where couples celebrate it together made him think of what he could do for you.

Be Mine? He doesn’t really ask you because he didn’t know he had too. Instead, he calls you to let you know he was at your door. Once you opened it, you couldn’t see his face but two large bouquets blocking his view and a soft voice behind the bouquet saying, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

His Gift: ‘How can i get her a planet?’ Unfortunately he’d have to opt for something smaller for now. He originally planned to give you a bouquet of your favorite flowers until he saw an idea online where you can create a bouquet of snacks and plushies. So, he gets you the best of both worlds. He carefully chooses your favorite flowers, picking plushies of your favorite characters and animals and makes sure to include all your favorite snacks too. He gently wraps the bouquet of flowers before working on the second bouquet, carefully placing each one to look presentable.

The Date: He’d take you to a quiet hilltop for a nightly picnic, it was one of the perfect spots to watch the stars and the moon. As you both settle down on the blanket, he'll let you enjoy your meal while Xavier sets up the telescope, carefully adjusting it to show you the planet he’d told you about, shifting it slightly to reveal a bright shiny star, the smaller gift he’d decided to get instead. He’d explain to you that he named that star for you, one out of millions that he plans to name more of.

Zayne:

Zayne has never asked anyone to be his Valentines, let alone spend the day with anyone. But ever since you two got together, he’s wanted to make sure he spends at least every holiday with someone he loves, you.

Be Mine? Since he has to leave early for work, Zayne would slip out of bed, careful not to wake you. He’d quietly leave a small, fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers that would be accompanied by a note, “For my love, always.” Later during his break, he makes sure to call you to make sure you don’t feel completely alone on the holidays and also because he misses you and how eager he is to come home to you.

His Gift: Zayne would carefully arrange the items he’d gotten you in a little cute box/ basket, filling it with your favorite things. There would be a TON of self care items. A blanket and comfy slippers so you won’t be cold whenever he’s not around. Matching mugs to drink together from morning to night. Bath bombs, candles, face masks and lotion to pamper you after a long day. Along with that, he’d tuck in your favorite snacks or sweets and beside the basket would a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers. He’d also remember that it was tradition to write your lover a letter on the holiday, so he’d make sure to write you a heartfelt letter of his love and appreciation for you.

The Date: This depends if you two were introverted that day or if he was feeling more introverted than you. If neither of you two weren’t, then he’d reserve a spot for you both to a classy restaurant, checking beforehand the reviews and if the menu has foods that you’d love. However if you two want a cozy night in, then you’d have a date at home. You’d cook together, some recipes taking longer so you guys bake in the meantime. Zayne would insist on adding an alarming amount of sugar on his, so you’d have to make separate pans. Once you both were full with your meal and if you weren’t tired yet, he’d invite you out for a nice scenic walk. He’d hold your hand the entire time, slipping them both into his pocket to keep yours warm.

Rafayel:

Rafayel doesn’t really get why humans need a specific day to celebrate their love and devotion to their partner when it should be something they do every day. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to skip out on spending this holiday with you, no holiday would ever make him love you any more or less than he already does.

Be Mine? He led you to a quiet and private spot on the beach, away from anyone. He would have “Be mine?” spelled out on the sand, decorated with pretty seashells to make the question pop more. His gaze is fixed on you as he waits for a response- even though you’ve been together for so long.

His Gift: A couple of Rafayel’s gifts were handmade, they were made way before the holiday came up and it was the perfect day to give it to you. He’d give you beautifully crafted heartfelt letters that spoke about how much he adored and cherished each second you spent together. Another one of his gifts would be a sketchbook, each page filled with detailed drawings, paintings, and even sketches that related to you. Each page would have little notes about how he needs to perfect your smile or how your eyes light up whenever you were happy. His last gift for you would be matching jewelry that is related to the holiday.

The Date: Rafayel would take you on a small boat ride to a hidden beach that’s only accessible by boat. When you both get there, there would be a picnic waiting for you and a small bonfire nearby. Your favorite foods, snacks, and a bottle of wine are laid out between you. He’d have sketchbooks ready for you both, taking turns drawing each other. He’d try to be nice when you’d draw him a little unique. Between sketches, he’d pull out his camera, capturing little candid moments of you. A smile tugs at his lips when he’d capture how you’d smile and laugh as you draw another unique sketch before you show him or the way the fire gives you such a warm and soft glow.

Sylus:

Sylus had been quiet about Valentine’s Day, the holiday slowly catching up. It was unlike him since you two planned a lot of things together but what you didn’t know was that he’d been playing a surprise, secretly ordering your gifts and decoration online before the day came.

Be Mine? You jolted awake by a loud tap by your window, relentless caws by Mephisto when he sees you up. Groggily you drag yourself out of bed, flinging open to see Mephisto wearing a red bow tie but before you could process what was happening, he flew away, leaving you blinking in confusion. Your eyes shifted downward, and there was Sylus leaning against his motorcycle, a playful smile tugging at his lips while he held a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers and one of your presents on the other hand.

His Gift: A small getaway to another city to somewhere you've planned on visiting. His plan would be spending the evening over a romantic dinner with a new and beautiful view. You two would stay there for a few nights or maybe even more, he doesn't mind extending the trip there, giving you plenty of time to explore the places you've wanted to experience together. When you unwrap the present in his hand, you’d find the dress you had your eye on a week ago and pieces of jewelry that perfectly complemented both you and your dress.

The Date: Once you two step off his private plane, he’d guide you to the car waiting to take you to an exclusive restaurant. He would reserve a private dining area so you two can enjoy each other’s company without interruption. The view from your seat alone was beautiful but Sylus wasn’t looking at the scenery, his eyes were always focused on you. Once you two were done with dinner, he’d take you out on a walk that was much closer to the view you two had during the dinner. He’d guide you to a reserved garden, one that he arranged weeks before. Your favorite flowers were arranged in clusters to make the garden pop out more. Neatly trimmed bushes lined the pathway and a couple of them were shaped into pairs of animals that symbolized you both, nestled together and some were heart shaped to represent the holiday.

Caleb:

Caleb hasn’t really spent Valentine’s Day with you properly, even when you were kids. Instead, he spent the entire time pushing away anyone who tried to give you anything or throwing out confession letters, flowers, chocolates, and candies from anyone who offered them to you. It was like that every year. By the time he could’ve asked you to be his Valentine’s, it was already too late. One of the memories he has of that night is giving you chocolates he had originally planned to give you, pretending they were pity gifts, as if no guy tried to give you anything. But now you two are grown and he has you all to himself, letting him celebrate this holiday with you properly.

Be Mine? You woke up to the delicious smell of breakfast calling your name and found Caleb in the kitchen, his back to you as he finished preparing his meal. On the counter was your favorite breakfast and beside it was a bouquet of flowers and a note written 'Be Mine?' He pretends he didn’t hear your footsteps padding behind him, a smile curling on his lips when he feels your arms wrap around him. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

His Gift: Even though he’d gotten you your favorite flowers in the morning, Caleb would surprise you with a box of Lego flowers so you’d have forever flowers to display on your desk or nightstand. He’ll also probably get you something silly like a magnetic necklace/ bracelet that you could wear or even magnetic socks so whenever you two were almost skin and skin, you two can be even more connected. And of course, he’d make his custom made love coupons that don’t expire for a hundred years.

The Date: He wants to spend the holiday, just like any other day, alone with you. If you were a picky eater, he’d make sure to cook all your favorite foods but if you weren’t, he’d look up some new recipes that have ingredients he knows you’d love. He’d also try to shape anything he can with hearts or maybe even a rose for the holiday. Eventually you two can build the lego(s) he’d gotten you and play a few board games for couples, letting you win most of them just so he can see your smile and hear your laugh.

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hrrtshape · 16 hours ago

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things to do with your s/o in honour of valentine’s day (or: things to script if your s/o is currently trapped in the fabric of space-time like a 1940s soldier in a locket)

kiss in every doorway you walk through. just because.

link pinkies instead of holding hands sometimes. just to keep things interesting.

make up a new anniversary. valentine’s day is amateur hour. find a random date and assign it significance. the day you first locked eyes across a crowded room? the day you both almost got hit by a taxi? make up a fake, elaborate backstory if needed. insist it’s the most important date of the year.

bite their sleeve when your hands are full. bonus points if you make eye contact while doing it.

wear something of theirs. a jacket, a sweater, a ring. something that smells like them, something that makes you feel like you belong to each other.

drag them into a photo booth. don’t give them time to think, just pull them in. later, hide a copy of it in their bag. or tape it to their mirror. or slide it into a book they’re reading. let them find it when they least expect it.

learn an entire obscure skill together. forging documents, deciphering ciphers, folding napkins into extravagant birds. something wholly unnecessary but deeply specific. nothing says ‘i love you’ like a hyperfixation you can share.

love each other like you are the last two people on earth who understand what love is. (because maybe you are.)

make them breakfast. not just toast. i mean ridiculous breakfast. pancakes with their initial spelled in syrup, eggs made exactly how they like them, fresh fruit cut into hearts if you’re feeling insane.

go to a bookstore and pick something for each other. something you think they’d love, or something that reminds you of them, or something with a title so absurd it makes you both laugh in the middle of the aisle.

write each other love letters. not texts, not dms. actual letters. fold them up, pass them under the table, seal them with lipstick like a 1950s socialite sending a telegram to her lover overseas.

slow dance in the living room. play something old, something scratchy and filled with longing. press your face into their shoulder. sway like you have all the time in the world.

light candles at dinner, even if you’re just eating pizza. especially if you’re just eating pizza.

draw on each other’s skin. little hearts on their hands. initials on their wrist. a whole mural on their arm if they’ll sit still long enough.

fall asleep on each other. on the couch, in the car, heads leaning together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

go to a museum and act like the most insufferable art critics alive. invent elaborate meanings behind paintings. whisper things like ‘this piece destroyed me’ in front of tourists.

go somewhere haunted. make up an elaborate backstory for a ghost that definitely does not exist. demand the ghost give you relationship advice.

say ‘i love you’ in new ways. in a different language. in a ridiculous accent. spelled out in alphabet soup. traced onto their back with your finger.

leave them a note somewhere stupid. in their coat pocket, under their pillow, inside the fridge next to the soy milk. something simple. something damning. ("thinking about you." "you are so loved." "i win.")

trace hearts on their arm when they’re talking. act like you’re not doing it.

buy a cheap little ring and put it on their finger like it’s a royal coronation. it could be plastic. it could be candy. what matters is the ceremony of it all.

wear their favourite colour. don’t say anything about it. just let them notice.

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inafieldofstarflowers · 2 days ago

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Don't get me wrong, there's never a point in aftg where Aaron and Neil are close personal friends, but I think that the slow escalation of their hostility towards each other actually offers an important insight into who they are as characters. I think it makes so much sense that Aaron and Neil dislike each other more as they learn more about each other, because the two of them are mirrors in a lot of ways.

There is, of course, the Andrew of it all, which is sort of at the center of everything and what gets the most focus: it's how Aaron looks at Neil and hates him for holding Andrew's attention in a way Aaron feels like he's never been able to, and it's how Neil sees Andrew's unyielding commitment to Aaron and how him being Andrew's brother gives him the sort of belonging Neil desperately wants.

But I think their similarities only fuel the negative feelings that arise because of those things—they both had complicated relationships with their mothers, and continue to be affected by the memory of them. They both have a goal for their lives and work toward it with an intense focus. Neither of them feels the need to hold back from shit-talking people (Aaron just doesn't care enough to do it as often). Neither of them is willing to talk to Betsy about their trauma (a fact which probably makes Aaron even angrier about Neil's plan being to get the twins in therapy together, because this fact paired with Andrew's relationship with & comfort around Betsy makes these sessions an uneven playing field).

And so, while tensions are already building for other mafia- and Andrew-related reasons, these things, little similarities between the two of them that are mostly tied to bad memories, are adding fuel to that fire, giving them more reasons to dislike each other.

#i think that the slow build of their dislike is so fascinating #let it be known that with all this said I am a FIRM supporter of neilaaron bestfriendism down the road #bc i think they could be close for largely the same reasons that they initially don't like each other #like we talk a lot about various characters that could be bitchy together and I think that neil and aaron could destroy a man #aftg #all for the game #aftg meta #aaron minyard #neil josten

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atlabeth · 21 hours ago

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something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep.

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night.

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you.

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI.

But then there’s also… you in general.

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about.

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his.

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him.

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one.

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again.

That bums him out even more, though.

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back.

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear.

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles.

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on.

“Gideon?” he asks again.

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.”

His blood goes cold as the words finally register.

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker.

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words.

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger.

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time.

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.”

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance.

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you?

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this?

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along.

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You.

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous.

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here.

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear.

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion.

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.”

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours.

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say.

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.”

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear.

“I’m assuming you heard that?”

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?”

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.”

“...Good.”

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls.

“I’m not—”

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway.

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him.

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.”

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip.

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.”

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips.

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.”

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door.

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather.

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.”

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking.

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well.

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger.

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus.

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about.

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it.

“What the h—”

“Footprints,” he whispers. “Th— they’re almost gone, but—”

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm.

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.”

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—”

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks.

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters.

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!”

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here.

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.”

“He was watching us—”

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.”

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this.

“Just look at me,” he says softly.

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else.

“Breathe with me.”

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge.

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out.

“How do you feel?”

“Better,” you murmur. “I—”

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him.

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.”

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background.

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay.

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.”

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.”

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more.

“Gideon?”

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says.

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—”

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts.

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.”

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.”

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest.

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets.

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka.

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open.

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.”

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.”

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.”

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug.

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear.

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments.

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.”

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.”

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one.

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real.

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.”

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—”

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.”

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all.

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired.

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite.

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.”

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.”

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket.

“What’d he want?” you ask.

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.”

“It’s not good for you.”

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.”

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.”

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead.

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.”

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.”

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?”

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say.

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.”

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.”

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks.

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.”

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.”

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate.

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you.

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there.

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse?

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.”

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.”

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says.

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it.

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you.

“Very cozy,” you say.

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds.

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.”

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.”

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.”

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.”

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around.

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth.

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up.

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.”

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?”

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.”

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug.

“Okay.”

He blinks. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.”

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.”

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?”

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

You chuckle. “Still fighting.”

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to.

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything.

“What a day,” he mutters.

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.”

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.”

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.”

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.”

You pause. “You’re… probably right.”

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.”

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

“We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?”

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.”

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.”

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.”

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.”

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.”

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.”

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.”

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.”

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?”

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.”

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?”

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science.

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows.

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.”

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position.

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.”

“Of course,” he agrees.

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science.

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate.

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.”

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance.

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.”

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.”

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.”

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?”

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now.

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything.

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you.

It’s ironic.

“Me too,” he eventually manages.

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good.

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible.

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone.

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep.

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #gideon!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes

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lvnleah · 2 days ago

Note

hi i have a request for kyra!☺️

R and kyra have been together for a year now, (r is not a footballer or famous) but the girls never met her,never seen her or even seen a photo or her so they all make fun of her for having “an imaginary girlfriend” and joke around with her.

the reason why they never met her is cause r is very shy ,awkward and get very nervous and uncomfortable around new and a lot of people. One day though kyra ends up convincing her and takes her with her to meet the girls. They all very much shocked cause they really thought kyra was lying about the gf lol🤣, but then they get even more shocked when they see a side of kyra that they never saw. Her being so lovely,kind and soft with r who a first is a little bit overwhelmed but then ends up relaxing and enjoying the night. the can see how much kyra and r love each other’s and they’re happy for them

actually real | kyra cooney-cross.

“I swear, she’s real.” Kyra groaned as her teammates teased her over you.

“Sure she is,” Katie smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Sure you have a girlfriend, and she’s totally not just some made-up person you tell us about so we don’t think you’re lonely.”

Kyra rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned forward. “I do have a girlfriend, and you lot are just mad you haven’t met her yet.”

“I mean, can you blame us?” Steph piped up, grinning. “You’ve been with her for what, a year? And not one of us has even seen a picture? C’mon, Ky, you’ve got to admit, it’s a little suspicious.”

Beth let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god, is it because she’s actually famous, and she doesn’t want to be seen with you?”

More laughter followed, and Kyra groaned, rubbing her hands down her face. “She’s not famous. She’s just—” She hesitated, not wanting to overshare about you. “She’s shy. And she doesn’t like big groups. It’s not that weird.”

Lotte smirked, tilting her head. “Right. So, what you’re saying is your girlfriend, who nobody has ever met, doesn’t come around because she’s conveniently ‘shy’?”

Caitlin leaned into Katie, whispering just loud enough for Kyra to hear, “It’s getting a bit sad at this point, isn’t it?”

The team erupted into laughter again, and Kyra groaned.

They had been at this for months. Every time she talked about you, even just little things, like how you made her tea in the mornings or how you always sent her the sweetest texts before a game the teasing would start.

But she couldn’t even be mad at them. They didn’t mean anything by it. They just didn’t understand.

Because you were real.

And Kyra adored you.

But you also happened to be incredibly anxious and extremely uncomfortable around big groups of new people, which made introducing you to her team a little difficult.

And she respected that. She never wanted to push you into something you weren’t ready for.

But still.

She really wanted her teammates to know that she wasn’t just making you up.

It took a while, but eventually, she convinced you after coming home that evening.

It wasn’t easy. There had been a lot of anxious rambling on your part, a lot of reassurance on hers, but finally, finally, you had agreed to come to the team’s bonding night.

Kyra practically threw herself onto the couch beside you, draping herself over your lap dramatically as she let out an exaggerated groan.

“Baby, please please please come to my team bonding night!” she whined, her voice filled with desperation.

You sighed, setting your phone down as you glanced down at her. “Kyra…”

She lifted her head just enough to meet your gaze, giving you her best pout. “They think I’m making you up, babe. Making you up.” She groaned again, “Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

You bit your lip, not wanting to smile, but she was making it really difficult not to.

“Ky, you know I don’t like big groups,” you murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “It’s not that I don’t want to meet them, I just—”

“I know,” she said softly, her teasing tone disappearing for a moment. She sat up slightly, resting her weight on her elbow as she reached for your hand. “And I would never make you do something you’re uncomfortable with. But I promise you, they’re great. And they’re going to love you.”

You exhaled, squeezing her hand. “I just… what if I get too overwhelmed?”

“Then we leave,” she said without hesitation. “No questions asked. You just give me the word, and we’re out of there.”

Your lips pressed together, anxiety still bubbling in your chest. You didn’t like meeting new people. You weren’t even sure how you met Kyra because your anxiety ruled your life. Literally.

Kyra shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll be with you the whole time. I won’t let go of your hand. You don’t even have to talk much. Just sit with me, let me hold you, and let them see that you do exist.”

That pulled a small laugh from you, and Kyra grinned.

“Just think about it,” she murmured, “I want them to see the person who makes me happiest. But if it’s too much, you say the word, and we’ll stay home, order takeout, and make fun of their Instagram stories instead.”

You exhaled slowly, your nerves still present but softened by her unwavering support.

“…Okay,” you whispered.

Kyra’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

She grinned, pressing a flurry of quick kisses to your face, making you giggle. “You’re the best, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “You owe me for this.”

“Anything you want, baby,” she said easily, wrapping her arms around you. “Anything at all.”

That conversation was how you found yourself sitting in Kyra’s car, anxiously twisting the hem of your sweater between your fingers as she drove toward the restaurant.

“I can’t do this,” you mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Kyra glanced over, reaching for your hand. “Yes, you can,” she said softly, squeezing it. “And we’ll leave the second you want to. No questions asked.”

You exhaled shakily, squeezing her hand in return.

“I’ll be right next to you the whole time,” she promised, her voice as gentle as ever. “You don’t even have to talk much.”

You let out a nervous laugh, but it wasn’t untrue.

“I love you, okay?” she murmured, bringing your hand up to press a soft kiss against your knuckles.

You nodded, trying to take comfort in the fact that, no matter how overwhelming this night might feel, at least you had her.

The second you walked into the restaurant, the room went silent. You could feel their eyes on you immediately, and it took everything in you not to shrink into Kyra’s side or run straight out.

But Kyra didn’t hesitate. She slipped her arm around your waist, keeping you close in a way that felt both protective and reassuring.

Steph was the first to break the silence. “No. Fucking. Way.”

Leah blinked, looking genuinely taken aback. “You actually have a girlfriend?”

Caitlin nudged Katie. “We owe her an apology.”

Kyra rolled her eyes but grinned nonetheless, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before looking at her teammates. “Told you so.”

Beth leaned forward on the table, squinting at you. “Are we sure she’s real?” she asked playfully. “Like, she’s not just some paid actress you hired for the night?”

You let out a nervous laugh, but Kyra immediately squeezed your hand. “You lot better behave,” she warned, though the fondness in her voice softened the words.

The team, to their credit, didn’t push too hard. They were obviously curious, but they kept things light, introducing themselves in a way that wasn’t overwhelming.

Kyra helped you settle into your seat, keeping her hand on your knee, rubbing soothing circles against your skin whenever she noticed you getting fidgety. As the night went on, you slowly started to relax.

What surprised the team the most wasn’t you, though.

It was Kyra.

They had never seen her like this.

They knew her as competitive, fiery, always up for a laugh or prank but with you, she was soft.

She was attentive, making sure you always had what you needed. She never let go of your hand unless you needed it free, and even then, she’d find another way to keep contact. Whether it was her knee brushing against yours or her arm resting behind you on the booth or her foot lightly tapping against your ankle under the table, she was always touching you.

She was patient, whispering little reassurances to you whenever she noticed you getting overwhelmed. And she was so in love with you.

It was obvious in the way she looked at you, in the way she softened every time you spoke, in the way she seemed completely and utterly focused on making sure you were comfortable.

“Okay, I get it now,” Katie muttered to Caitlin at one point. “She’s whipped.”

Caitlin grinned. “Properly in love, is she feeling okay?”

Kyra just smiled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek before whispering, “You okay, love?”

You nodded, feeling more at ease than you had in a long time. Because yes, the night had been scary at first but it had also been filled with laughter, gentle reassurances, and the unwavering presence of the girl you loved.

And by the end of it, when Kyra helped you into your jacket and kissed the top of your head, “Proud of you, imaginary girlfriend.”

#lvnleah #awfc x reader #woso x reader #kyra cooney-cross x reader

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literatureloverx · 1 day ago

Text

Celebrating Valentine’s Day with BSD men

BSD men x reader, I did not use pronouns for the reader, but in some cases, it is subtly implied to be female, though not overtly so.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

He would gift you—very much in line with what Asagiri confirmed—an entire country. Be prepared to manage political affairs because you will be the president and owner of your favourite nation. Congratulations!

Expect a lavish candlelit dinner, accompanied by classical music and an exquisite orchestra.

You can also look forward to many other gifts—he is never one to hold back. Your shared bedroom will likely be filled with presents, each meticulously crafted and designed just for you. The sheer intricacy and depth of his knowledge about you will leave you breathless.

The night will conclude with a magnificent fireworks display.

You made the right choice by choosing to live in isolation with him, basking in the luxury he provides—not that your answer would have made a difference if you had said no.

Dazai Osamu

We all know that Dazai—the Dazai—is, unsurprisingly, utterly broke and survives off the money of his fellow ADA members, such as Atsushi and Kunikida. (We love a pest.🩵)

He isn’t the overtly romantic type, but that doesn’t mean his love is any less intense.

He will likely buy you a bouquet of roses with Kunikida’s money and give Atsushi his best puppy-dog eyes to help him get you a pair of matching rings.

But then comes the truly unexpected part—he takes you stargazing in the freezing cold, having put in all the effort to create a soft, cosy space for you both to lie on, complete with extra blankets and pillows.

And when it starts snowing? You are going home, of course—not that he didn’t account for this. He has another present waiting for you there—one he actually bought himself, which is precisely why he had no money left for anything else.

He is a pervert. That is all I am going to say.

Nakahara Chuuya

Another man with refined tastes and a big, considerate, loving heart for his darling. He would spend weeks—if not months—thinking about the perfect way to celebrate this day with you, determined to make it unforgettable.

Chuuya pays attention—he really does, because he cares that much. Though he is not the best with subtleties, he does his best to take mental notes on everything you like and dislike, everything you want and do not want.

So, expect gifts that are carefully chosen, each one making it clear just how much he notices about you.

The evening will likely begin with him presenting you with a luxuriously crafted dress from a high-end designer—one he specifically picked for you. He wants you to wear it because he is taking you somewhere special, and of course, you will, with the brightest smile on your face.

You will dine at an exclusive restaurant, sharing exquisite wine and food together.

And knowing Chuuya, he will not stop at just one gift. Throughout the night, he will keep surprising you, giving you something new every half hour—because spoiling you is just second nature to him.

Nikolai Gogol

Haha, you silly thing. You actually think Valentine’s Day is romantic? That ridiculous day where Homo sapiens willingly cage themselves—not even in their own perception of love, but in the artificial fantasy constructed by capitalism?

Just joking. If you find it romantic, then of course, he does too. Or at least, he pretends to. Watching your reactions to his “gifts” is far too entertaining. He might as well play along and turn this whole romance thing into one of his little games.

Expect the most outrageous surprises—perhaps he will take you on a helicopter ride, only to reveal that he has written I love you on the ground below… using meticulously arranged corpses. A heartfelt, handcrafted message just for you.

Or maybe he will gift you something else grotesque—something that reminds him of you or symbolises your love in his own twisted way.

Oh, and expect plenty of Valentine’s Day quizzes.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Now, here is someone who has no idea what to do with himself on Valentine’s Day.

To him, it is pointless. Why should this day be any different from the others? And why are you looking at him like that? The expectation in your gaze makes him feel cornered.

But Akutagawa hates being behind on anything. So, despite thinking this whole thing is ridiculous (such a tsundere), he still makes an effort. He prepares something for you—a small but meaningful gift, something that proves he has thought about you, about this day, and has put effort into making you happy.

And once it is over, he lets out a relieved sigh.

Yet, later that night, when he recalls the joy on your face upon receiving his gift, he feels something warm and unfamiliar flicker inside him. He refuses to acknowledge it—but deep down, he knows.

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stariekis · 2 days ago

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what are we?

pairing : non idol!sunghoon + fem!reader . genre : fluff, childhood best friends to lovers . cw : kissing . wc : 4.9k

check my other works ₊⊹⁀➴ masterlist

synopsis — falling in love with your childhood best friend doesn't always have to be something bad.

uri's note — taking a break from the texts just to post this little sunghoon au ! nah i love him i giggled while writing this.. hope you guys do to jeje

Sunghoon and you have been best friends since day one. Both your and his parents met in highschool and since then they became inseparable, just like him and you.

You share all your childhood memories with him; every trip, every birthday and every first day of school there is always Sunghoon by your side. And it happened, you didn't want to, but it did happen. As you grow up together with him you develop feelings for your childhood best friend.

He was pretty handsome since he was young, and everyone knew that he would be even more attractive once he became older. And that's exactly what happened. His delicate features, his tall and broad complexion, he was like a porcelain doll. And you couldn't help but fall for it, along with his sweet personality.

Now, both of you are in college. You remember feeling so sad when you discovered that he had to move out of town to study. Even more because the summer before he left you finally realized that, in fact, you like him. Maybe more than like. You loved him

Being apart from him was going to be a torture, you were so used to have him around by now. But you kind of wish that not having him so close to you all the time would help you get past your little massive crush.

But, to your dislike, that didn't happen.

Each facecall, each message he sends you talking about his day and how cool his new college is, every picture he published on his Instagram did not help you at all. You couldn't stop falling in love with him every time.

Summer break finally came and Sunghoon went back to your hometown. He, of course, called you as soon as he reached his house. You didn't waste a second and hopped into your parents car and drove straight to him.

“Y/n?”— The front door opened, Sunghoon’s mom was standing right behind it with the prettiest smile adorning her face. He looked just like him. “He is in his room, go and say hi darling”— She moved aside and, after thanking her, you runned up the stairs to Sunghoon’s room.

You opened the door, revealing a pretty much shocked boy sitting on his bed. He didn't expect for you to come this fast, but he surely didn't wait a second to jump out his bed and hug you.

“I missed you so much” — You said, while hiding your face in his neck. He chuckled, slowly pulling away to take a glance at your face. One of his hands tucked your hair behind your ear.

“You look so pretty” — He whispered. You blushed at his words, of course you did. “You look even prettier than the photos you sent me” — He was admiring your face, every detail of it making sure to remember every single mole even.

Once you pulled away completely he took your hand. “Come with me, we have a lot to talk about” — He said, pulling you towards the door.

He took you to the park near his house, both of you spent your summer days there when you were little. It was kind of your special place.

Sunghoon and you sat on the swing as you talked about everything that had happened while you were apart, even though you talked to him every single day.

As the sun sets a comfortable silence falls between you two. A silence that was soon broken by him.

“There is actually one thing that I haven't told you about, and I need to be fully honest with you” — You looked at him confused, and scared too. Did something happen? Have you done anything wrong?

He stood up, standing now right in front of you as he took your hands. He pulled you slowly towards him, making you stand up. Your confused looks never left your face.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time and since I moved it has been the only thing in my mind” — His fingers trance round shapes in your hand, he was nervous. He sighs. “Y/n I like you, a lot, and I feel like this might be mutual but I didn't wanted to talk to you about it because I wasn't sure, and I also was far away from you and, if by any chance, you felt the same I knew I wouldn't be able to be away from you at that moment” — He looked away as soon as he finished his speech, not able to look at you, at least not now.

You smiled, your cheeks were tinted with a slightly red color. Your long time crush liked you, as much as you liked him. Was this a dream? If it is, you hoped you never woke up from it.

“Sunghoon” — You grabbed his chin, making him look at you. “I've had the biggest crush on you for the past years, i don't know how you didn't notice, even your mom knew it” — You swear his eyes almost pop out of his face.

You giggled at his reaction. He then took your face in between his hands, now looking directly at your eyes. “What are we?” — You cracked at his response. Was this really the first thing he had to say after your confession?

“Whatever you want us to be, but I would love to be yours Sunghoon” — He smiled, his pretty fangs showing slightly. And just like that, he closed the distance between you two, giving you the sweetest kiss you've ever received in your life. And the first one too.

Now Sunghoon was part not only of every memory of your childhood, but also the most important parts of your adulthood.

taglist : @layzfy @laylasbunbunny @yuminako @sugarikiz @rikiontopofme (open ; send an ask to be added)

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beatlblog · 2 days ago

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#crush them under a boot like the bugs they are (via @friendofgeorgeharrison)

what does The Trial (1962) have to do with this

(via @rogersandclarke)

#i think peter jackson should do it since he did the beatles doc and dead alive. he knows the material best. (via @officialcameronfrye)

#with real beatles (via @davidjohnlemahieu)

#i know i know but listen. paul dano would be good in it. for real (via @uranium)

#PREV the way he would body john lennon. (via @twinprime)

#im pretty sure theyve already made film adaptations of kafkas metamorphosis you guys#*BA DUM TSS* (via @girlcockholmes)

#yellow submarine (via @david-watts)

#i dont know what the hell this means but i respect it?#david cronenberg's penny lane (via @jamboreeofsurprises)

#ringo and paul need to do this before theyre gone (via @scienceandpuzzles)

#they turn into real beetles (via @kisswithfangs)

#prev#metamorphosis scene where i am the walrus plays and the audio distorts (via @shivjoys)

all Beatles movies are body horror movies if you have a flight or fight response at the mere mention of British people (via @campyvillain)

#the spaghetti eating scene in mmt already exists (via @the-fifth--of-november)

#just for george to carry the entire film (via @realdannydevito)

#it would be less unsettling and more fun than john shoveling spaghetti in magical mystery tour (via @motionpicturesforcarrie)

#remake the fly but call it the beatle (via @satellitefeed)

#my writing professor would love this#biggest beatles fan i know#he has countless ties with the members painted on them (via @wakingbreathlessly)

#i think theres honestly so much to be gleaned here#im seeing lots of movie parallels ofc#dead ringers mclennon.....the substance faul.......need to put those men in situations that play with the malleability of the self....... (via @tenderlady)

#tusk 2014 (via @milfpaul)

an extremely real answer

#the best Beatles body horror could of course be one where they all merged together or ate each other or something#in a symbolic show of co-dependence#✨just little four headed monster things✨ (via @pauls1967moustache)

#ringo biopic 🤞 (via @incandysroom)

#me sitah 'as fused to me hand lads (via @prairietrashdotcom)

#the maggots on john lennon's rotting corpse are imbued with his artistic talent and decide to form a band (via @officialpenisenvy)

#the thing that always really draws me in about body horror is this idea of the Self as this thing we think of as being fixed within very->#clear boundaries but which in fact is Not#the beatles are four guys but they are also one Guy but one of those guys is potentially Two Guys?#and really those four guys are actually Eight Guys because the four guys we know are not really the Four Guys Themselves#because we have crafted these largely self-sustaining narratives of them that we consume and play with and purchase and dissect#we call them “bugs” as a joke but we also treat them LIKE BUGS#we pin them to the corkboards of our imaginations to preserve them but also to better understand them but also to morph them into->#something else entirely#the beatles are we as they are he and we are all together etc etc#again not even getting into the way they sort of all blended into each other#the matching haircuts the matching suits but the ways they voluntarily continued to do that post beatlemania#pauls1967mustache brought up the idea of them all consuming each other and becoming a semi-literal four-headed monster#(sidebar: everybody go watch the substance the beatles were elizabeth but they were also sue but they were also monstro elisasue do you see (via @tenderlady)

#literally like#take the four headed monster to the extreme#take the TWO headed monster to the extreme#the splitting of the four headed monster into two distinct groups#where one (jp) is uncanny in its perfection and the other represents the ‘economy class’ Beatles (gr) (via @illogicalconclusion)

#they all grow out their terrible moustaches and form a rat king (via @dafttpunk)

#the metamorphosis but there five of them#five?#yes theres five beatles aren't there? (via @catboycyrus)

ooo i LOVE this the fifth subs for any of the four interchangeably at random

#ringo paul faul and the other two yea#5 beatles (via @furrycyrus)

#beatles timeline but backwards#they start off as very different individuals but over time become more and more the same#looking in the mirror and the face staring back at you is that of your bandmates#and you wonder if that's always been the case (via @coffeefromthevoid)

dorian gray?

we need a body horror beatles movie

#beatl fic #beatles as a commodity

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kiame-sama · 9 hours ago

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HAE Valentines Special~

Valentines really isn't a thing in the HAE AU, given the have mostly different holidays, but i figured y'all could have a little confession/love thing. I was going to write NSFW for the Dorm Leaders for Valentines day, but time got away from me. instead, here is a little something different.

Warnings: Still yandere, HAE TWST AU, monster AU, Human/Reader is (They/them) to be inclusive, suggestive themes, ficlets, kissing, confessions, suggested cannibalism (Azul path), Unicorn, Nemean Lion, Caecilia, Genie, Harpy, Shinigami, Dragon

Riddle Rosehearts:

"Everything needs to be perfect!"

The Unicorn huffed as he looked over the preparations for the day's Unbirthday party. This would officially be the fifth time he has rechecked the preparations and Trey couldn't help but feel amused at how stressed his friend was.

Though Unbirthdays were common when it came to their dorm, this was supposed to be a special one for several reasons. The beloved Human of Night Raven College was going to be attending this one and Riddle was planning to confess his feelings for them. It was no secret the Unicorn had feelings for the Human, though the Human seemed to be unaware of how the Unicorn actually felt for them.

Still, that didn't mean Trey couldn't have a bit of fun with his close friend.

"I don't know, Riddle, do you think the roses should be painted a different color?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, painting the white roses red is traditional for an Unbirthday party, but this isn't just an Unbrithday party anymore. Why not paint them something that goes with (Y/n)? Like their favorite color?"

"That's-! Actually... that isn't a bad idea."

The Unicorn turned back to look at the roses but another voice cut in before he could decide what to do. That voice belonged to the Human that everyone seemed to adore as they walked over with a warm smile on their face. If anything, it was more surprising that the Human came to the Unbirthday party at all given how Riddle reacted during the first Unbirthday party they attended.

He was determined to not make the same mistake.

"(Y/n), you're early!"

"Well, I thought I could show up and lend a hand! I am enjoying the party too, I shouldn't just get to sit on the sidelines and not help out. What do you need me to do?"

Riddle was thrown off by the sudden offer to assist him and he could feel his chest tightening as his face warmed with a flaming blush. He wanted to wait to confess his feelings for them at the height of the party, perhaps even during croquet. Still, something about the affectionate and kind Human made Riddle absolutely melt and all of that careful planning fell to the wayside.

"(Y/n)," He started, picking up their hands in his own and kissing the back of one affectionately, "the only thing I need from you is for you to listen."

"Okay?"

Riddle swallowed hard, suddenly feeling his mouth go dry as he tried to cobble together what he wanted to say. Nights spent practicing and rehearsing for this moment all suddenly seemed so distant and far out of his reach as he struggled to find the words he was looking for. Luckily for him, dear (Y/n) was as patient as ever to let the Unicorn gather up his thoughts.

"I have spent my life trying to be the best I can, from classes, to being a son, and yet it always felt so hollow and empty. Despite everything I could want being available to me, there was nothing I actually needed. Not until... until I met you. I know I have no right to ask this of you, and I understand if you turn me down but I... I..."

He struggled to force the words out of his mouth as he found himself choking at the last minute. The idea that this amazing person could turn him down poisoned his thoughts and made tears fill in his eyes, especially because he knew he wouldn't be able to handle being rejected. He needed the Human to accept his love completely and wholly or he would lose his mind in grief.

"I love you too, Riddle."

Those words made his mind come to a screeching halt as his breath caught in his throat. He was quick to glance up from their hands to their gently smiling expression as his heart leaped into his throat.

"Y-you do?"

"Of course I do. How could I not?"

"Because I'm such a mess! I attacked you when I Overblotted and-"

He cut off sharply as their hand rest against his cheek, gently pulling him down to lock their lips with his. The Unicorn couldn't help but let out a soft little squealing neigh at the feel of his lips pressed against their own and he hungrily melted into the gentle affection. Their warm body against his own had his face blushing bright red. Riddle found himself panting and longing for more when they broke the sweet kiss, pulling back to look at him adoringly.

"I love you, Riddle Rosehearts."

"And I love you (Y/N). I always will."

~~~~~~~~

Leona Kingscholar:

"Oi, Leona, get up and help!"

Ruggie grumbled his complaints to the dorm leader, who was lounging on some sun warmed rocks as he spent the day dreaming and thinking about what could be, if he only tried. The dorm had been cleaning and tidying up after a rather eventful evening in anticipation of that blessed Human stopping by. Naturally, the lazy Lion wasn't too interested in helping out his Pride even though he was the primary reason the dorm was so messy.

Wrestling and playful fights were common in Savanaclaw and Leona had been the undefeated champion of his Pride for a while now. The night prior has gone about the same and made it clear to all the newcomers that Leona was the leader of his Pride for a reason.

"Nah."

"The hell you mean, nah? (Y/n) is gonna be here any minute-!"

"That's why you're here, Ruggie. It's your job to clean, not mine."

"You-!"

The Gnoll seemed more than a little annoyed with Leona and was about to voice that frustration when another voice was carried over on the wind. (Y/n) had said they would come over for a visit and maybe even make some lunch for the dorm, so they were an expected presence. Still, it made Leona's heart leap up into his throat when he heard them.

The Lion was quick to rise to his paws when he heard the shouted greeting and seemed to have a kind of energy now that he knew his favorite squeaky toy was present. He couldn't resist the lazy smile pulling at his face as he saw that soft Human making their way over to him with a happy smile. What he wouldn't give to have that smile for himself, to keep and to be the only one that got to see such an affectionate expression.

"Mousey, took you long enough."

"Oh, hush. You know it takes a lot for me to be able to slip away from the others to even come here."

"I know. Did that Lizard throw a fit over it?"

"Of course he did, you know how Malleus is, Leona."

He did know.

Leona knew that the Dragon was far too interested in (Y/n) and it made hate burn in the pit of his stomach to think about that overgrown Lizard getting his hands on that soft Human. The idea that he could be relegated to second place yet again only made the anger burn brighter. Years of being second place to everyone else left a chip on the Lion's shoulder regarding the way others perceived him and how he always seemed to be the secondary choice.

He wasn't going to let himself stay second place anymore.

"So what did you want to do-"

The Human's questioning tone cut off as the Lion pulled them to his chest, locking his lips almost immediately with the surprised Human. They hesitated for just a moment before reciprocating the kiss, much to the Lion's enjoyment and vague astonishment. He figured they were fond of him to some extent, but it felt so nice to be able to have that affection returned in full.

As he broke the kiss, he almost chuckled when he saw the slightly dazed expression of that soft Human staring up at him. If they kept looking at him like that, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from taking more than just a little kiss from them.

"You're mine, you got that, Mousey? All mine. That damned Lizard doesn't get to have you anymore. I am your number one."

This made a small smile pull at their lips as they leaned into the hold of the Lion. It was almost laughable to Leona now to think that he ever believed they could possibly like that Lizard more than they loved him. He was dangerous and came from a long line of Human eaters, but they were never bothered by what his ancestors had done in the past.

"All yours."

~~~~~~~~

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul nervously sat glancing at the phone in front of him as he awaited the arrival of his date for the evening. He had gone though countless plans and countless ideas before he settled on the current one, and now he had to wait while the time ticked away.

It was a relatively cool evening in the Mostro Lounge and Azul had ensured to reserve the entire VIP section just for this occasion. If anything he was nervous and vaguely worried that his invited date wasn't going to show up despite the fact that they had agreed and it was still early to the time he requested they arrive. Still, he found himself constantly looking back to check the time only to see seconds had passed despite the fact that it had felt like hours to him.

The VIP section was lit with small candles and had been cleared out of everything excepting one round table that had two chairs on either side of it. The view of the large external aquarium was quite lovely from where the table was placed as a pair of whale-sharks slowly swam by, circling and dancing together in playful affection. Even the silk table cloth he had placed over the table seemed to have the gentle reflections of light through the water shining onto it, making it look just as fluid.

"Oya, Azul, you seem so pent up and stressed. Could it be you are worried about being rejected?"

The gentle teasing of his second in command and childhood friend, Jade, chimed out and Azul couldn't stop the way he glared over at the smiling Eel. Of course he was nervous and terrified. He didn't know what he would do if he was rejected after going through all of this effort to put together a nice dinner for himself and the soft Human he adored.

There was a part of him- the part he kept mostly hidden- that insisted there was no way the Human could ever love a crybaby like him. Why would they go for someone like him when they could have their pick of anyone in the world? Princes, wealthy tycoons, Kings, anyone they wanted would happily accept their affections, so why would they settle for someone like him?

Jade was well aware of Azul's stress, as the Octopus couldn't even snap back in reply to the light teasing. It was clear to anyone that knew Azul that he was nervous and could hardly sit still in his own seat. His eyes glanced back to the time and he felt his three hearts pound heavily in his chest.

It was time.

"Hey, Azul! Hope I'm not late."

The kind voice of the Human he adored filled his head and only made his hearts hammer even faster as he stood to greet them. They were breath-taking, dressed in the fine clothing he had sent along with the invitation to this candlelit dinner and he almost swooned when he saw them. They looked absolutely enchanting beneath the shining light from the aquarium and he couldn't help but blush bright blue.

"Goodness, this place is beautiful! I don't think I've ever been in the VIP section before. Did you do all of this for me?"

He did. Azul had even gone as far as to sever one of his own tentacles- it would grow back- so he could have a unique dish to serve them just for the occasion. It was typical of male Caecilia to offer their own tentacles as a meal to their mates, he just hoped the Human would accept him as their mate.

"It isn't much," he stated, gently leading the Human to the waiting table, "but I do hope you like it."

"Of course I do. But, this doesn't seem like a friendly little dining experience, is it? This seems more like a date to me."

"W-what? I- Well this isn't- I mean, it could be if you wanted? If you don't want it to be-"

Azul stumbled over his words, feeling his entire face flush a deep cerulean as he tried to save face. Those thoughts and ramblings all came to a screeching halt as the Human gently rest their hand against his cheek, pulling him into a light kiss that left him breathless.

"I would love for this to be our first official date."

"I love you, (Y/n)!"

"And I love you too, my sweet octopus."

~~~~~~~~

Kalim Al-Asim:

Food of varying spices and make were lain out among the various seating areas of the Scarabia dorm, while the dorm members happily sat and talked to one another in excitement. It was normal for the dorm to be having a little celebration amongst themselves, but there was to be a unique guest of honor arriving soon and it had them all buzzing in excitement. Almost everyone in the dorm adored their dorm leader and they were all hoping that the party would go in his favor.

Unlike most in Night Raven College, Kalim Al-Asim was a kind soul who tried to help others despite his own failing in magic. Those who were in the Scarabia dorm had long come to appreciate the Genie that greeted them with warm smiles and affectionate behavior. They were also all in on the plan to get Kalim and the Human he so clearly adored together in a relationship.

Jamil- Kalim's right hand and Vice-Housewarden- was not of the same enthusiasm as the others, but he was still willing to lend his help to the Genie he had spent his life serving. He had been the one to craft all of this fine food, after all, and he was willing to do what it took to keep the Human close, even if meant he had to share with the air-headed Genie. Now, all that was needed was the Human themselves and then the party could really get into full swing.

"Kalim!"

A familiar voice called out and the Genie was quick to rush over to them, almost tackling the Human in an excited hug as he nuzzled against their neck. They chuckled and returned the affectionate hug with their own as they allowed the Genie to pull them to where he had been resting as the head of the group. A kind of hush fell over the gathered students who were all excited to see their beloved Housewarden with the Human he clearly adored.

"(Y/n), before we get the party started, I have something to tell you!"

"Oh? And what would that be?"

Kalim found himself somewhat nervous, but his face didn't show it as he smiled at them, trying to get his ever bouncing mind to calm down just enough to speak his peace. He really hoped that (Y/n) would return his affections at best, or at worse still want to be friends with him after he confessed his feelings for them. The only thing he had to do was actually confess to them the way he had planned.

He seemed to remember the speech he and Jamil had written out has he quickly grabbed the paper from his pocket, looking over it quickly to try and find exactly what he was looking for. He frowned at the paper- as well written as it was- and decided that he no longer needed it. If he was going to pour out his heart, he couldn't let some silly paper get in the way of it.

"(Y/n), I know I'm not the best at magic, and I know my wishes are dangerous, but even with all of that, you're always so nice to me. You don't get mad when I forget things. You don't yell at me when I get a little loud. You're always there when I need you to be and you don't ask me for things in return for you kindness. I feel like I can't think most days, but suddenly I can think like a genius whenever you are close to me. (Y/n), I like you. I really like you. No, I love you, and I was just wondering if there was a way you could possibly love me too?"

There was a moment of silence as the surprised Human stared at him and he felt his heart racing in his chest. Only in that quiet did he possibly think that maybe the Human didn't feel the same way for him as he felt for them and that idea made his heart constrict. He was almost ready to nervously shout that it was all some joke before they smiled at him, pulling him close to press their lips against his.

The moment their lips touched, the other students in the dorm began to cheer, but it all fell on deaf ears. Kalim couldn't believe it. He was actually kissing them! They were so soft and gentle against his lips, he couldn't help but excitedly pull them closer as his Genie tail wound around them to hold them against his chest.

"Of course I love you, Kalim. How could I not?"

The Genie let out a loud cheering whoop which was echoed in kind by the others around him as the Party began in earnest, the Genie never leaving the side of the Human he adored. Even as the Naga glared from the sidelines, feeling maligned and ignored in the height of it all, it did mean that the Human would stay close, and perhaps he could worm his way into their heart the same way Kalim had.

He just needed to bide his time and let the chips fall where they may before he made his move.

~~~~~~~~

Vil Schoenheit:

Another day done, another meaningless photo shoot. As per usual, the great Vil Schoenheit looked amazing on the cameras and off of them, yet he found himself missing a key piece to his the event. No matter how many photos he took or how he posed, he never seemed to have that same spark as he did when his beloved (Y/n) was taking photos with him.

Something about the way they fit in his arms and melted into his hold had the Harpy yearning for their touch and their ever affectionate smile they gifted him that always seemed to be able to make him breathless. He could feel the way his tail ruffled and moved when he thought of them, just wanting to display and dance for the Human that he wholeheartedly adored. What he wouldn't give to have them by his side and hold onto him the way he longed to hold onto them.

Even as his manager spoke with the photographers and parsed out more deals and photoshoots to be had, he found himself not interested in the simplicity of their conversations. Not even the modeling contracts he had held the same interest they once did before he met the Human he had fallen so hard for. Countless others swooned and praised his name, longing for just a moment of his time or attention, yet his heart was set on the one who never seemed to seek him out.

"Roi du Poison!"

The familiar name his boon companion used for him drew the contemplative Harpy out of his thoughts, his purple eyes flicking over to see what it was the eccentric Drider needed from him. The moment he saw the Drider everything else seemed to fall away, as that soft and lovely Human was approaching with him. Naturally, the photographers seemed to notice the profound change in the typically icy model as he warmed and a smile took over his smooth expression.

This was no demure smile, mind you. The smile that pulled at Vil's lips was one of genuine affection and joy as he turned to fully face his two favorite companions. Several photographers paused their disassembly, even choosing to put the cameras back in place just in the rare case that they were going to see something amazing take place.

The Human paid no mind to the cameras or to those who were watching curiously and instead chose to approach the smiling Harpy with and equally excited smile.

"(Y/n), to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Just wanted to stop by and see you! Rook said you would have a moment after you photoshoot and I wanted to know if you wanted to come over to Ramshackle for a quick bite to eat before your next activity?"

"I would love to."

"Really?"

"Of course. Why would I refuse such an invitation?"

"Well, I was just worried you might be too busy since you always seem to have so much to do..."

The almost shy behavior of the Human warmed Vil's chest as he felt his tail once again stirring to display itself for the sweet Human he adored. Perhaps, with the better lighting and the relaxed atmosphere, his tail would have a greater impact on them than it had in the past when he fist chose to display for them. As they rambled off about how busy Vil always seemed to be, he caught their hand, quieting them quickly.

"(Y/n), do you know what it means when a Peacock Harpy displays their tail for someone?"

"Rook said it means that the Harpy is interested that person and wants to be their mate."

Vil smiled at this, his tail and crest feathers rising up to a full display, the light catching the many colors as his wings extended out to either side of his body. Each feather moved and seemed to create the illusion of dancing as the Harpy circled the Human, parading his feathers for them to behold in his own dazzling display of affection. The Human seemed surprised by this sudden show of affection, but they also seemed to take it in stride as they caught the dancing Harpy in a tight hold, surprising him slightly.

"So, does this mean what I think it means?"

"What do you think it means?"

Instead of answering the Harpy's question, the Human pulled him into a quick kiss, locking their lips with his own. He almost broke the kiss to yell at the nosy photographers as he heard the many sounds of cameras clicking, capturing the moment on film. Rook was actually the one to begin admonishing the photographers for Vil as the Harpy broke the kiss, resting his forehead against that of the sweet Human he adored.

"It means I love you, (Y/n). Judging from your response, you love me too."

"How could I not? You're amazing and absolutely beautiful, Vil."

~~~~~~~~

Idia Shroud:

"Idi-nii."

Another win down, another win to go. Idia was on a hot streak and there was no way he was going to slow down for anyone. If he kept this up, he would be able to get drops for all the gear he needed to complete his set. He might even be able to get gear for his secondary character that ran DPS.

"Idi-nii!"

"What?"

The insistent voice of his little sibling drew the Shinigami out of his trance, moving one headphone off of his ear so he could turn to look at his exasperated little brother. He was about to complain at Ortho that he was busy and interrupting his streak would throw off his game when he noticed the littler Shinigami was not alone. Standing next to the technomantic Shinigami was a familiar Human that made Idia's heart skip a beat and made him turn away from the game, his streak quickly forgotten.

"Did you forget (Y/n) was coming over to play games with us?"

"... Maybe?"

"Idi-nii..."

Otho was clearly frustrated with the behavior of his older brother, but the Human was not put off by the forgetful behavior of the older Shinigami. Instead, they chuckled softly in response to his nervous statement and it made him smile. Usually he thought others were laughing at him whenever someone chuckled around him, but he couldn't help feeling that the Human was actually fond of him.

Most avoided the awkward older Shinigami who kept to himself, but the Human had made it their mission to actually befriend him however possible. Even as he smiled back at them, he could feel the way his hair changed from the consistent blue to a gentle magenta. Unfortunately, the Human seemed to notice this as well.

"Hey, Hellkitty."

"Hello to you too, Gloomurai. You ready to play some games with me and Ortho?"

"Yeah, just let me log off of this and I can get a game started up for us."

"Okay. Quick question, though."

"What's up?"

"Why does your hair change color whenever you see me?"

This actually threw Idia off as he began to stutter, stumbling over his words to try and come up with a reasonable lie to throw off his true feelings for the Human. He didn't think he was ready to confess that to them, or to anyone really, and he was worried that there was no way the Human would possibly love such a weirdo back. He had to think of something quickly.

"Well, you see- you see it means- I- I mean it- it is because-"

"It's because Idi-nii loves you, (Y/n)."

Idia could practically feel himself blue-screen as Ortho easily said the words he struggled to find and he felt the sting of betrayal deep in his chest. How could Ortho, his trusted brother, do this to him? To voice his feelings just like that for the Human to deny or even be repulsed by? He didn't know if he would be able to forgive-

"Oh, is that all? Well, good thing I love him too, or this would be really awkward."

"... Huh?"

"I said, 'good thing I love him too', you silly Shinigami."

"L-LOVE?? You love me?? Really? But why? I'm just a freak with flaming hair who-"

Idia was cut off mid rambling by the sudden feeling of lips against his own and his entire brain seemed to shut down completely. His hair burned a deep magenta as he rest his hands over their shoulders and pulled them deeper into his affection, his long limbs wrapping around them to hold them close. He could faintly register the bright glow of his hair as the magenta color reflected off of their skin, giving them that same bright glow.

"I love you, Gloomurai. I don't care if you think you are weird, I adore you in all of you awkward glory."

"W-Weeheehehe~!"

~~~~~~~~

Malleus Draconia:

The evening was a lovely one, not too cold and not too balmy either. Somewhere in between with a warm breeze that seemed to soothe the turbulent soul and a soft caress of an affectionate lover. It was the prefect kind of evening to allow the pair to walk mostly undisturbed across the campus.

As a Nocturnal Dragon Fae, Malleus was more at peace in the evening than he was during the daytime, allowing him to let down in guard under the cover of night. Even as the Human walked by his side, he knew they were happy and protected in the cover of darkness. All felt right with the world, so long as he had his Human by his side.

Overhead, the stars glimmered and shined like the very cosmos were rejoicing in the peaceful moment shared between two souls. It didn't matter how the shadows clawed for attention, not a moment would be spared spent focusing on anything other than the Human that held to Dragon's arm. He would ensure they were protected and nothing else truly seemed to matter to him as the two walked together.

The Dragon had a reason to spend this auspicious evening by the side of his Beloved and he was ready to lay his heart out for them, if only for a few more seconds of their treasured time. Of all the gifts that they had given him- from his quirky nickname to the simple moment spent enjoying one another's company- he had yet to give them something that could compare to the joy they had given him. He planned to correct that oversight with his own heart offered up to them to keep.

"It's a beautiful evening."

They commented off handedly, keeping their voice low to not disturb the peace that had settled over the usually lively campus they wandered. It was certainly lovely, but nowhere near as breathtaking as the Human he held in his embrace.

"Yes. Very lovely."

"Did you want to just have a nice walk, or was there something else that you wanted to talk about tonight? You even told Lilia he couldn't come, so I'm guessing you have something in mind?"

Ever the observant one, (Y/n) always seemed to know when there were thoughts plaguing the Dragon even before others did. It was that observative behavior and quick understanding of him that Malleus valued above all others. So few could read the Dragon half as well as his beloved Human could, and he knew he could never let the crown jewel of his Hoard escape his embrace.

He needed to let them know how he felt about them.

As he paused by their side, they were quick to turn their curious gaze to him, looking up with their head cocked to one side in an ever endearing way that made his heart swell in his chest. To think, the precious short lived creature had managed to entangle the heart of the lonesome Dragon with such adeptness he didn't even realize how hard he fell until his own emotions seemed to slap him across the face.

"(Y/n), I've been meaning to talk to you about something. Something that is very important to me."

"What is it, Tsuno?"

He paused and relished the feeling of his beloved so close to his chest and so warm against his own naturally cold body. They seemed to fit perfectly in his hold and he couldn't stop himself from pulling them closer, chuckling as they gasped ever so softly.

"I find myself thinking of you whenever we are apart. Longing to hold you, to taste your lips, to embrace your body and soul with my own. I have never felt such a rush from anyone other than you, and it kills me to think of anyone getting to hold you the way I long to."

"Malleus..."

"(Y/n), Dragons love deeply and fiercely. I don't want to consume you in the flames of my passion if that is not what you want of me. I love you (Y/n) (L/n). I would burn the world to ash if you only asked it of me and I would embrace you in the ruins of the burning land around us for the mere pittance of your smile. If you don't want this... if you don't want me-"

The Dragon was cut off as his head was pulled down into a passionate kiss, feeling his chest swell with adoration for the gentle and fragile soul he held in his arms. There as no more need for words to be said, the action speaking far louder than any sweet nothing that could be whispered into the night. Such adoration made his heart ache in affection as he embraced the love of his life, knowing they willingly embraced him in return.

He could live thousands of years with no one other than (Y/n) as his company, and they would be the happiest years of his life. All he needed was his love by his side and the gentle embrace of their affection to fill his heart.

He would never let them go.

#kiame-sama #yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #reader insert #humans are extinct twst au

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rookamell · 2 days ago

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There are people who are going to disagree with me on this for thematic Rook/Solas reasons and that's ok, but I've been stewing on this for a few weeks now and I truly believe the Regret Prison was the biggest missed oppertunity to have a Fort Drakon Part 2: Electric Boogaloo.

So Rook falls in behind the statue of Varric, and the screen fades to black, and it switches to the companions in the Lighthouse library. I can't decide but I'm leaning toward the scene indicating that a substantial amount of time has passed (three weeks in game? That's a good time?) and the companions are arguing, because of course they are, because Rook isn't there to 'lead'.

Idk how, but somehow Emmrich locates Rook in the Fade, but there's some sort of barrier, obviously, because Rook can't find their way out of their own in this scenario: so We (the team) have to go in an find them.

BUT! Oh no! Emmrich can only hold the Fade open (or however you say it) long enough for two people to get through. So your love interest obviously immediately jumps at the chance, and then whichever companion you have the highest bond/ most approval with goes with them. (Could be a good way to incorporate the bond/approval thing they have going on in the game, because I don't think they utilised it enough AT ALL) if you didn't romance anyone, it's just the two with the highest approval.

So you play as these two, and you have to work together to face Rook's Regrets. (You could even have a callback here to the Gauntlet in Origins when you have to get Andraste's Ashes when you fight whichever companions you brought, but instead maybe its whichever companions you fucked over so Neve/Bellara, Lace/Davrin, Neve/Lucanis <- sucks a little that Neve is there twice but this is a work in progress, ok?) and obviously you face a bunch of other stuff (maybe have to answer some questions about what Rook did for the team like in Inner Demons? Idk) and the 'final boss' is Varric, who is already standing with Rook.

The kicker here is that the 'boss fight' is not a fight, your success or lack thereof depends on 1.) how much your companions approve of you and 2.) if they are all heroes of the Veilguard (aka if you actually did as Varric asked and 'looked after the team for [him], kid')

And then Rook and whoever is there share a moment before they all move on and get back to the others yadda yadda.

I get why they didn't do this because 1.) I think it would take A Lot to implement in the game actually and idk if they had the time/budget for that, and 2.) there is a theme there with Solas being stuck in his regret and Rook being able to make their way out.

But as for 2.) I think you could still say there's a Rook/Solas thing there because Solas pushed everyone away while Rook embraced their team/friends and so they got out because they had people willing to help them get out. Like I said, I know people aren't going to agree with that but it's just my take.

It would have been a cool way to show how much the companions do care about Rook and also gain some insight into Rook that's not their perspective. Also it would actually add to the whole 'found family' thing the game tries to tell you is what's happening in a very tell not show way. This could be the 'show'.

Just some thoughts anyway

#because im obsessed with the regret prison/inner demons parallels but you didnt hear that from me #i just NEED Rook's love interest tonsee them at their absolute worst just once #dragon age #datv #dragon age the veilguard #lucanis dellamorte #rook dragon age #emmrich volkarin #neve gallus #bellara lutare #taash dragon age #lace harding #davrin dragon age #solas dragon age #varric tethras #regret prison #veilguard headcanons

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lady-lostmind · 3 days ago

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THE RIGHT PERSON

Written for @steddiebingo Kissing Booth Prompt: Love

Rating: T | WC: 555

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

All Steve has ever really wanted is to be loved. Which, wow. Sounds pathetic when he thinks too hard about it. But he doesn’t think it’s too much to ask for. He’ll give as good as he gets, when it comes. He just wants someone to care. He wants to feel like he’s important to someone.

He thought he’d found it with Nancy. But when he looks back on things now, he knows they were never really right together. He wanted them to be. He wanted her to fit in the gaping hole in his chest and fill it. But she didn’t. And that’s okay.

And then with Robin he thought– but no. Not like that, at least. She helped, she made the hole smaller. She made him realize there’s different kinds of love. Because he does love her. And he knows she loves him. But it’s still not what he wants. He’s tried to find it. Over and over. He’s gone on dates with girls he knew weren’t for him just in case. But it’s no use. He’s pretty sure he’s just doomed to be alone forever.

And then he meets Eddie.

Eddie, who listens when he talks and is actually interested. Eddie, who goes out of his way to do nice things for him like grab his favorite drink or snack when he runs into the gas station. Eddie, who makes Steve a mixtape because Steve mentioned liking a few things Eddie has played in the car. Eddie, who lights a cigarette and hands it to Steve before lighting one for himself.

Eddie.

Of course it’s Eddie. Because that’s just Steve’s luck. To fall in love with his best friend, again. Someone he has absolutely no shot with, again. To set himself for heartbreak, again.

Steve groans and flops down face first on Robin’s bed. Robin sets her book down and nudges him with her foot. “What’s wrong with you?”

Steve peeks out at her, half his face still squished into the pillow. “That’s a great question. Why do I keep doing this to myself?”

Robin’s brow scrunches together. “I need more information.”

Steve sighs, shifting around so he can glare up at her. “I always fall for the wrong person. Why?”

Robin’s eyes go wide, a little smirk pulling at her mouth. “Are you finally going to own up to the Munson crush?”

Steve’s jaw drops and he smacks her arm. “How’d you know?”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Please. You guys are so obvious.”

Steve scoffs. “I am not– wait.” His brows shoot up. “What do you mean?”

Robin sighs. “You don’t actually think this is one sided do you?”

Steve shrugs. “I mean– yeah.”

Robin chuckles. “You’re both idiots.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “Are you saying I should actually go for it?”

Robin shrugs. “I’m saying Eddie certainly never knows my favorite snacks. He doesn’t make me any mixtapes. He doesn’t stare at me every time I walk into a room. Can you say the same?”

Steve runs over everything in his head again, seeing it for what it so obviously was.

Steve’s face lights up. “He likes me.”

Robin rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Yeah, no shit.”

Steve scrambles off her bed. “I gotta go.” He’s already halfway through the door when he hears Robin’s mumbled ‘Dingus’ from behind him.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #lady lostmind #steddiebingo #steddiebingo2025

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hana-recs · 2 days ago

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going to throw my self off a cliff. and SOON!!!!

when u initially said you had something bitty for my birthday i was expecting like max 3k (my bad) but this is just. beyond anything i could’ve imagined. i laughed and i cried reading this which is just a testament to the skill of your writing — because it IS gorgeous and it is so very beautiful and i honestly don’t know how you do it. there were so many little details in there that were so cleverly done or they were so impactful or they just really FILLED the story with something UGHHHH u are truly just an incredible writer.

LIKE HELLO. first of the all the run reader had dating everyone from hhu !!!! she PULLS !!!!!!! especially vernon and cheol and wonwoo — i think that truly u illustrated the different relationships so well - nothing was cookie cutter, u could See the differences in dynamic + the differences in their problems + just all the different types of love that were experienced and yes. it made me very emotional. and not only that!! the other characters!!! mingyu and tzuyu have my whole heart!!!!! i loved their own small background story with their own piece of love and the reunion scene was. SO fucking cute.

wonwoo and reader were and will forever be everything. i think you built up all the relationships so well but theirs most of all, because it was a long time coming - everyone saw it coming - and it was both painful and also the best thing ever and i refuse to be normal about it!!!! BECAUSE???? the angst of their estrangement and the pain they both so obviously feel about it is so palpable because of the way you write!!!!

You do something that makes me think, oh, maybe she's into me? You'd seek me out for comfort, for help, for whatever, and I was there. I am there, like an idiot, hoping you'll just get it. Then you date people who are in proximity to me - my best friend, my team captain, the secretary of my AV club. Then you leave. You left, Y/N." “I know." You can't recognize the thickness in the back of your throat, the way you swallow around it as he fiddles with one of his rings. "You didn't even come say goodbye, Wonwoo. Hansol ripped my heart out and handed it to me, because of you, and you weren't even there." "I didn't want to see you cry." He mumbles, and you only shake your head.

^ LIKE THIS PART??? "i didn't want to see you cry" do you know how insane i am. do you even know. RGEHDHSHEHEH. u can literally feel wonwoo's emotions pouring out like ur SO good alta i'm literally going to start yelling.

I couldn't sleep most nights the first year that you were gone. I found myself still walking towards your apartment with Hansol. Hell, I've even hung out with Seungcheol, routinely, just to feel the influence of you. The essence of what you are, imprinted in the people you've graced with your presence."

^ HIM SEARCHING FOR HER IN ANY WAY HE CAN HAVE HER????? EVEN IN OTHER PEOPLE??????? altair. ALTAIR. i genuinely cannot do this all these fucking details are so insane and so beautiful and i don't know how you put them together like this at all but i'm SO grateful to ur mind.

and then the photo album. which was such a perfect detail!!!! she bakes for him and he takes photos of her like they're literally made for each other. it's soulmatism. the photo album was literally like the most amazing touch to an already incredible fic. i am a SUCKER for nostalgia and the general angst that comes with it and you write it so well that i actually feel like i need to do a backflip??? i actually feel like i'm going insane. again.

"What if you realize you don't want me?" "Oh, sweetheart. I'd be a fool not to want you. Let the sky fall the day I make that stupid decision."

^ i think this may be one of my favourite lines in the whole thing. like i genuinely made an audible squeak scream thing reading it for the first time. "id be a fool not to want you" what if i died it's so perfect and it's so THEM. after all the pining and all the Yearning and all the waiting!!

"I promise. It's your birthday, sweetheart. I'd bring down the stars if you asked."

i have nothing further to add this line speaks volumes all by itself. just know i giggled and kicked my feet.

Why not hang onto it, as long as he can? Why not take in every ounce of your light so long as you allow it, and reflect it right back to you? Why not be a mirror of your love, a beacon of the same hope you hold, a star in the sky that also tells you there is something to wish upon? (...)

^ and then there was this whole entire section at the end which just read like pure poetry. it was such a beautiful insight into wonwoo's character and even more of a perspective on his feelings and RGSHEHAHHEWKJE i can't even express myself properly anymore i'm literally going fucking crazy. sorry. alta your writing is always gorgeous and here especially it was just straight up otherworldly. yes i do feel like i ascended at the end of this fic. yes i cried multiple times (three to be exact). yes i will be grateful to you forever for this.

a few other quick details that i LOVED: the pink camellias!!!!! and the jimin/jk cameo made me giggle so bad; welcome to hana's! also made me giggle. omg yes and THE SNOOPY MENTION!! idk if we've talked about this before or if it's just pure coincidence but i fucking love snoopy. (same with baking actually - when i saw she was a baker i was so excited. again idk if that was on purpose or by coincidence but either way i love u omg).

alta i don't know how to make you understand exactly how grateful i am for you and for this and for your mind but. jesus fucking christ! i don't think i'll ever be able to say thank you enough. this fic is nearly 16k words of ur pure talent and hard work and it doesn't compute that u dedicated it to me and SHDHSHDGSH i truly think this is one of the nicest things that's ever happened to me for my birthday. it's a stupidly good piece of writing and like i said i truly don't know how you do it. it’s an honour to be able to read ur work 😭💗

SHDHSKSJ im so happy alta just. thank you!!!! SO much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love u endlessly!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hanging by a moment 🍻 j.ww [m]

synopsis: it's been a few years since you've been home for your birthday, and wonwoo can't wait to see you...right? genre: estranged childhood friends to lovers au. fluff, angst, suggestive themes. pairing: photographer!jeon wonwoo x fem!baker!reader | side pairing: kim mingyu x chou tzuyu word count: 15.8k rating: 18+. minors please do not interact. warnings: swearing, alcohol. food mentions. mentions of jealousy, breakups. wonwoo is a little bitter. pet names (sweetheart, honey, etc.) kissing. what to listen to: here is gone - the goo goo dolls ; over you - daughtry ; broken - lifehouse ; hanging by a moment - lifehouse ; long way home - 5 seconds of summer ; say yes - seventeen author's note: happiest birthday to my baby @wqnwoos ♡ i hope your birthday was full of wonderful memories and you had lots of good food, please continue staying healthy and i love you. [star dividers by @/cafekitsune here on tumblr!]

– LAST YEAR: GOYANGI SWEETS, HARLEM, NEW YORK.

"Since when do you celebrate Valentine's Day, Y/N?" Jeon Wonwoo's voice was staticky on the other end, and you rolled your eyes as you kept swiping icing on the red velvet cupcakes you'd been agonizing over for six days. Trying and dumping mixes, failed taste tests, a few burnt practice rounds all led up to this: you, up at two in the morning on FaceTime with Wonwoo, who was just now starting to finish up his work day.

You hadn't meant to move so far away, truly – or at least, not for this long. Your best friends were all back home, and the drastic time difference did work for some of them – but you rarely managed to catch Wonwoo. He would usually spend his time holed away in his bedroom or out with Kim Mingyu. However, since Mingyu moved in with his fiancée, Chou Tzuyu, three years ago – Wonwoo had the apartment to himself and you were his only company.

"Since when don't you, Jeon? No hot date for Desperation Day?"

"You watch too many movies, there's no such thing. Anyway, shouldn't you be sleeping? You open in, like, two hours." He was right, you did open in two hours.

There was just something comforting about hearing Wonwoo's voice so late in the night. It makes you feel warm, less alone.

And it's not like Wonwoo knew about your recent fight with your boyfriend.

It wasn't anything serious – just you telling him to get a fucking job, and him insisting that his job was rubbing your feet after a long day at work. It annoyed you so bad that you asked him to leave the apartment for the weekend. It's not that Wonwoo doesn't like Euijoo, but he certainly isn't his number one fan. You argue that you can't dislike someone you don't even know, but Wonwoo has made it clear that Euijoo is simply never going to be a part of his life if you're not present to make it happen. It's always been that way with Wonwoo, though. He quietly disapproved of most of the men you dated, even when you were back home – but he never made you feel bad about his perspective. He simply shared when you asked, and he didn't sugar coat it.

Before Euijoo, there was his clubmate, Hansol Chwe. Before Hansol, there was his teammate, Choi Seungcheol. Before Seungcheol, there was Mingyu.

And every single one got a side-eyed glance, even his best friend.

Slowly, you stopped talking to Wonwoo about guys, because he always seemed to be right about you deserving more. To be frank, you weren’t too keen on not doing what you wanted to do, much less who.

You and Wonwoo never breached that friendship line, and while you found solace in his irrevocable appreciation for you as a friend, you found it odd that around the time you began preparing for your relocation across the world, he floated away.

So much so that he hadn't even gone to the airport to say goodbye, or give you a hug. You hadn't seen Wonwoo in the weeks leading up to it after you told him you'd be leaving, and he always had an excuse as to why he couldn't call or hang out. You tried time and time again, only for him to eventually say he just didn't have time.

He did. You knew he did, because you saw him all over Mingyu and Tzuyu's Instagram stories. You saw him playing chess with Yoon Jeonghan. You saw him at the art museum with Xu Minghao.

You saw him soft launch a girl on his Instagram story the moment you boarded your plane. His story had been posted twenty minutes before, while you were getting your heart ripped out. You’d gone to New York with eyes full of tears, and not just because you were leaving behind everything you knew.

Wonwoo was home, and you wouldn’t have him with you.

Nevertheless, Wonwoo was never…directly the reason behind your breakups – at least, to your understanding. You never toed the line of flirting with him and vice versa, you never made your friendship out to be something it wasn't.

You and Mingyu broke up because of school but stayed extremely close. You met his then-girlfriend,Tzuyu, six months into freshman year, and you were the first person Mingyu ever told that he wanted to marry her. You even helped Mingyu build a Pinterest wedding board when he would visit you and Wonwoo.

The others? Seungcheol made the mature decision and broke up with you because of jealousy issues on his part. Hansol broke up with you with an apology and nothing more, and you tried your best to take it in stride. However, taking things in stride is not your forte – which is how you ended up with Euijoo.

Hansol broke up with you at the airport the day you left for New York, the guilt taking over his features as your eyes widened and filled with tears. You had muttered that you understood, that it was fine – but the fourteen-hour flight from Seoul to New York was full of tears and sniffling. You're sure the woman next to you had been wondering if you were okay, but you're also almost positive that the fourteen-hour loop of 5SOS' Close As Strangers through your headphones spoke for itself.

You had met Euijoo at a bar a week after you landed in New York. Your apartment had long been ready and furnished, waiting for your arrival. You sullied it that same night by bringing him home, the aura of the apartment darkening the longer he stayed. And stayed, he did. It's like he had nowhere else to go, and you were far too nice about it, too.

Hence, how he became your 'boyfriend' and how he 'moved in with you.'

Bullshit; he went home to his mother's one-bedroom condo and picked up a dusty Playstation and a pillow he liked – that was his 'moving in.'

As for why Wonwoo doesn't like him, it's obvious – Euijoo is a loser. He has no goals, no sense of urgency, no whimsical nature – nothing like you. At least, that was what Wonwoo told you the first time you called him from New York…which was over six months since you left Seoul.

You wanted to believe there was a twinge of jealousy in Wonwoo’s voice when you told him about Euijoo. His brows furrowed, he sucked his teeth more times than you could count, and he refused to meet him when you offered to have him say hello.

You couldn't lie to yourself, you knew your relationship with Wonwoo was dwindling. Your calls were growing sparse, he didn’t tell you anything about his personal life, and you still hadn’t gone back home. To him, to your friends, to your parents. The two of you had grown up together, just slightly out of each other's circles. There were two or three people who were your 'friends of friends' that connected you, before Mingyu was the first official bridge between the two of you in the seventh grade. You went on to date Mingyu for three years during high school, before you wound up going to a different university than he did – but attended with Wonwoo, instead. You hated to admit it, but you knew that you clung to Wonwoo like gum did a shoe. You hid behind his broadening frame at fraternity parties, you would ask him over to your dorm (and later, your apartment) for game nights. You eventually started baking for him – cookies, cupcakes, the like. And then you met Seungcheol, on your way to Wonwoo's apartment. You slammed into him, painting his white t-shirt and shorts in pink icing – and you remembered stuttering over your words as you watched his brows furrow while he wiped icing off his stomach. He ended up clicking his tongue, nodding his head and shrugging.

"I guess you can call it avant garde, right?"

The two of you exchanged numbers, and you wound up being late to Wonwoo's place – but at that time, it didn't matter. Not when you scored a date with an older boy that had pouty lips and the thickest thighs you'd ever had the pleasure of seeing. Wonwoo had noticed you were giggly that night, but chose to brush it off when he walked behind you and saw you typing away to an unsaved number.

You and Seungcheol ended up dating for about a year, but the jealousy issues began before your relationship even started. He knew Wonwoo, and they were on the same soccer team – but something about the way Wonwoo spoke about you seemed to tick him off. No matter how often your lips were on his, your hands on his body, your body in his bed – Seungcheol's eyes always narrowed at the sight of Wonwoo floating around you for whatever reason, even if you initiated contact.

You cheered at all his games, but Wonwoo was also there even if you wore one of Seungcheol's jerseys. You invited him to your bake sales, yet Wonwoo was always the one taste testing your recipes. You invited Seungcheol to your birthday dinner, and Wonwoo was naturally there.

Wonwoo recounting memories of you as a kid at dinner was what made Seungcheol make the decision to break up with you the following week. He paced around his apartment while you sat on his couch, rattling off all the ways that Wonwoo spoke about you that meant so much more than just a platonic love.

And you didn't comfort Seungcheol, or refute his thoughts.

In fact, you denied them. You said there was no way Wonwoo saw you as anything more than his friend, you insisted that Wonwoo seeing you in the worst moments of your life was enough to make him feel icky about dating you.

It wasn't until Seungcheol crouched in front of you, holding your hands in his that you understood that he wasn't kidding. He told you that part of growing old together and being in love is seeing each other in those situations and still choosing to care and stay. He told you that Wonwoo holding your hair back as you threw up, Wonwoo knowing all your siblings' names and their favorite things, Wonwoo seeing you riddled with the flu and gross stomach bugs…

Wonwoo cared about you far more than he let on.

You left Seungcheol's apartment that night with a heavy heart and holding the stained white shirt from the first day you met him in your hand. It was still soaked in his cologne, and you remember crying yourself to sleep for two weeks straight.

Wonwoo had been there, and when you told him everything Seungcheol had said – he'd apologized.

He didn't deny anything. He didn't refute any of Seungcheol's feelings.

He apologized, for both making Seungcheol feel that way as well as being the straw that broke the camel's back. You hadn't known what to say, so you just offered to let him stay over and bake cookies with you.

He did, and the two of you gorged yourselves on white chocolate chip cookies while watching White Chicks. You cried again while he was there, and he wiped your tears and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He held you close as you pouted into his shirt, the soft scent of patchouli from his cologne settling into your skin as a blanket of comfort.

You also remember peering up at him through teary eyes, and his lips instinctively pressing to your hairline. His mumbled words never left your mind, either.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.”

You didn't date again for a bit after that, and Wonwoo made it a point to introduce you as his friend any time the two of you hung out. It made you feel odd, the way he forced the agenda that you were his friend and nothing more when you had no issue just going with the flow. You understood he didn't want a repeat of your relationship with Seungcheol, but it felt like he was forcing something more than just the label of your friendship.

People often asked if something had happened between the two of you — of which you always denied casually. If they asked Wonwoo, he would scoff, as if he were offended anyone would ever think you were more than just his friend. As if it was gross, or repulsive, to see you as a woman and not just the girl he grew up with. You met Hansol the next school year, a cheeky cinematography freshman that frequented your bake sales. Wonwoo met him there as well, and was the reason you and Hansol met formally. Apparently, Wonwoo and Hansol were both in the AV Club, where Wonwoo also met his first girlfriend: Lee Jaehee.

Lee Jaehee...

She had also been quite the frequenter of your bake sales. She enjoyed your slutty brownies and the strawberry blondies you made, and the two of you had been so close to becoming friends when Wonwoo asked her out. He'd even asked you to bake something for her and you did it happily, free of charge. However, Wonwoo asking her out meant her finding out that you and him went back over two decades, and the same look that settled in Seungcheol's brows, settled in hers. It was painful, to see how she would tense at your presence at Wonwoo's soccer games, ones you'd always attended. It hurt your feelings to see her give you a quick smile before passing by your booths at the bake sales, not bothering to stop by for a nibble or a chat.

It pained you to know that Wonwoo missed your birthday dinner that year to spend the weekend with her, instead. You wound up going over to Seungcheol's apartment that night, and he comforted you as best as he could – by offering a drink and inviting his friends Jeonghan and Joshua over to entertain you. Despite it all, Seungcheol never really held any resentment towards you – but he did have zero problem telling you how blind you were.

You ignored it, too.

You didn’t like the odd feeling you got in your chest thinking about Wonwoo in any way that wasn’t platonic. You weren't stupid – Wonwoo was incredibly profound with a hint of goofy humor. He was smart, and tall…and handsome…God, he was so handsome, it made you want to bite your fist.

So the idea of his hands on you? His lips on yours, his bed being more than just a drunken sanctuary…

It was too much for you to handle.

You started dating Hansol during the first semester of your senior year of college. He'd just become a sophomore, and everyone around him had been incredibly surprised that the senior sweetheart at the bake sales stopped making her incredibly soft peanut butter cookies. The reason? Hansol, and his allergy to peanuts.

No one said shit after that, only cooing at your boyfriend's blushy cheeks from your attention.

Your relationship with Hansol also came as a surprise to Wonwoo, and he found out in the strangest way – by walking into your apartment using his spare key and seeing the two of you getting frisky in the kitchen and covered in flour. You hadn't heard him come in, and didn't seem to sense his presence in the threshold of your kitchen. You don't know it, but Wonwoo has the image of you burned in his mind. The slope of your neck as Hansol kissed down it, the way your shirt was pushed up to reveal flour-covered handprints on your bare chest, the way your thighs were flexing around your boyfriend's waist… The sound of your whimper into Hansol's mouth.

He then made his presence known by coughing exaggeratedly, and you and Hansol almost slipped. Wonwoo rolled his eyes as Hansol yanked your shirt back into place, clearing his throat and greeting Wonwoo.

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to know that there is no way eating flour out of each other's mouths is sexy." Wonwoo had come over to tell you that he and Jaehee broke up, and he did tell you – but on his way out of your apartment. You could barely hear him as the door closed, but you were also trying to finish what you and your boyfriend started in the kitchen — so you filed it to the back of your mind as you invited Hansol to join you in the shower.

It wasn't until after graduation that you decided to open a pastry shop. However, you were unsure that your at-home learning was enough to satisfy a gaggle of clientele – and decided to start applying to pastry schools. You’d already obtained a business degree, which made the idea only cement further in your head. Hansol had been incredibly supportive, even going as far as sending you applications and fee waivers while he was in class and you were driving around Seoul with Wonwoo looking for work for the time being.

Then you got a letter back from a pastry school in New York City, and Hansol was ecstatic. He paid for your flight and even took a week off school to go visit it with you. He wound up setting up meetings with realtors so you could get an apartment, and the two of you even went as far as looking at empty lease spaces where you could open a business.

You accepted the offer, and the school covered your flight back to Seoul and then back to New York City. Your parents covered your first year of rent at an apartment in SoHo, after you sent back videos of you spinning in the SeaGlass Carousel and having dinner at Shuka.

However, something changed when you went back to Seoul to pack your things. You also realized you had done all of this without even mentioning it to Wonwoo, who seemed slightly distant when you finally met him for dinner at his place after packing up your apartment. Mingyu and Tzuyu had also been there. Hansol also seemed distant for a few days, not bothering to answer your messages or calls. You showed up at his apartment, only for Seungkwan to answer the door with a knowing look and tell you he wasn't home. You remember scowling, and pushing past Seungkwan to see Hansol asleep in his bedroom, tucked away with a Star Wars blanket you'd bought him for his birthday.

You picked a fight, and Hansol wasn’t having it — said he wasn’t in the right headspace to have this conversation, and asked to rain check it for a better time. You argued there was no better time than the present, and his swollen face (whether from tears or sleep, you were unsure) was enough to make you back off for the time being. He quietly asked you to join him in his bed, and you reluctantly kicked your shoes off and did just that.

He promised he still cared, and promised he still loved you, but it felt different, the way he held you. Like a last hurrah, like a ‘goodbye’ and not a ‘see you later.’ Like things were going to end and there was nothing you could do to change his mind.

You couldn't say you were surprised that Hansol broke up with you a month later, but you were certainly hurt. Wonwoo was also nowhere to be reached at this point, your calls going straight to voicemail and your texts going unread. You assumed he'd finally landed a gig, but it was still unlike him to not respond to you, of all people.

At least, you thought that was what had happened, until you saw his Instagram story.

You stopped wondering where he'd been after that.

It had been four years since then. You hadn't gone back to Seoul once, not even for Christmas or when your parents begged you back. You called for birthdays, you sent gifts out two months in advance. You sent photos of your shop, of your apartment, of you and Euijoo.

Your parents didn't really care about the ones Euijoo was in.

You finally opened your pastry shop in the middle of Harlem – two years after arriving in New York, tweaking your recipes to cater to the local clientele. Your shop was always full of customers and you loved what you did – but most of all, the people loved you. They loved seeing how easily you won people over, how you celebrated your accomplishments by putting even more effort into your business, how your employees cared about you and your shop.

You truly became an essential part of some people's lives – Ms. Julianna who came in every morning for a chocolate éclair; Mr. Cortéz came in every Saturday morning for a box of mixed empanadas and one butterscotch cupcake for his granddaughter, Elisa; Mrs. Stegenga sliding in every Tuesday for a strawberry tart and a cup of unsweetened whipped cream for her dog, Harley.

Euijoo came in everyday as well, but not for a pastry – but to bug you. You'd kicked him out a few times, shoving a warm cinnamon twist into his mouth or an iced matcha with cheese foam into his hand – but he always floated back.

Which was odd, since he didn't have a car and it took thirty minutes to get from your apartment in SoHo to your shop in Harlem. Where he was getting the money for the taxi, or to load his Metrocard was beyond you – the son of a bitch didn't lift a finger.

Now, you're here. You're still at your shop, while Euijoo is likely sprawled out on your king-sized bed, with his outside clothes still on. You're grimacing to yourself as you smooth icing out on one of the cupcakes, your brow furrowed as you hear Wonwoo sigh.

"I miss you." And just as fast as it was said, he moved on.

"Since you're not going to sleep, how was your birthday? I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to call, I've been slammed with projects. Tzuyu booked me for engagement photos, isn't that crazy?" Much like your friends missed out on your life, you missed out on theirs. Mingyu and Tzuyu opened a restaurant in the middle of Seoul, and you missed it. Mingyu and Tzuyu had their first daughter, and you missed it. Mingyu and Tzuyu got engaged, and you missed it. You wouldn't be surprised if you missed their wedding, too.

Wonwoo? He opened a photography studio. He did weddings, all sorts of parties, maternity shoots. He did boudoir shoots for a bit, before handing them over to his business partner, Saerom. She had been introduced to Wonwoo through a few contacts at your old university, and he took her on as an apprentice. She now accompanies him to many shoots and gigs, usually taking the reins if Wonwoo loses his patience or gets too overwhelmed.

You'd seen his photos displayed at a few galleries after you left for New York. Your mother went and took pictures of his exhibits, his shy smile hidden behind flutes of champagne. You congratulated him via text, only to receive a thumbs up in response and nothing more.

"Yeah, that's crazy. Listen, Woo, I'm gonna try and focus on this. I'll call you later, yeah?" You sighed, frustration evident in your voice. You watched as Wonwoo struggled not to roll his eyes as he tongued his cheek, before nodding.

"Sure thing. Get some rest."

He hung up before you could respond, and you looked at the FaceTime log. Eight missed calls from Wonwoo over the last few days, three missed calls from Tzuyu and two from Mingyu.

Your friends missed you, across the world. You were missing every precious moment of theirs.

And instead, you were here. Frosting cupcakes at almost three in the morning, while your do-nothing boyfriend enjoyed the warmth of your apartment. Frosting cupcakes, while your parents begged you to come home for a few days at the very least.

The money here was good. It always had been, and you'd built such a good connection with your clientele and you couldn't imagine abandoning it all because you were homesick.

But you missed home. You missed your mother's hearty soups, you missed your father serving you dinner instead of you serving Euijoo after a long day of doing that for strangers. You missed Tzuyu's light laughter, Mingyu's warm embraces…

Wonwoo. God, you missed Wonwoo.

You remember sending him a photo of your storefront as the sign was finalized, the baby blue calling to the eyes amongst the red brick.

Msg To: Jeon Wonwoo ♡ [11/09] look at it! goyangi sweets is officially in business! (read: 1:09PM)

Msg From: Jeon Wonwoo ♡ [11/09] goyangi?

Msg To: Jeon Wonwoo ♡ [11/09] what the fuck are you doing awake? it's 3am in seoul [11/09] yeah, goyangi. i miss you (read: 1:10PM)

He hadn't answered after that.

Sighing, you clicked your tongue and leaned against your stainless steel counter. You grabbed a cupcake off the cooling rack, prying the warm dessert in half and smearing a bit of frosting on the inside, shoving it into your mouth. You closed your eyes as you chewed, letting your shoulders sag at the sweet treat that made all the stress worth it.

It was worth it, right? The money and the love from the locals, the feeling of physical success…it was enough. It was worth the lonely nights you yearned for

You wiped your hands, moving to the front of the shop and dragging the metal divider down to block the view of outsiders. You weren't opening the shop today, no. You're going to go home, and kick Euijoo out of your bed and sleep.

That's all you need. Some sleep.

– SOPHOMORE YEAR: SEOUL HAWKS VS YONSEI EAGLES, SEMIFINALS.

"We have No. 08, Choi Seungcheol approaching the goal area for the freekick. Choi is the team captain for the SNU Hawks, and the only PreMed student on the team. He has also scored fifty-six percent of all game-winning goals this season, and we're hoping this kick gets them into the Championship bracket."

You were on the edge of your seat, your frame being swallowed by one of Seungcheol's jerseys. You were alone in the stands for the first time – Mingyu and Tzuyu were stuck at the concessions stand. Unfortunately, you were also the only person on this side of the field wearing an SNU jersey, and trying not to tweak out as you listened to Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin talk about your boyfriend over the PA.

"Oh, oh, looks like Choi is not taking the freekick after all?" Jimin's voice was clear, and the crowd collectively sighed as Seungcheol analyzed the players and shook his head.

You were barely able to sit down as you watched him jog over to his referee, making motions with his hands and arms when you saw Wonwoo crossing the field in a sprint. He slid next to Seungcheol, who pulled him closer into the circle and kept talking. Wonwoo's brows were furrowed as he nodded, breathing heavily before wiping his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. "It seems Choi has nominated No.17, Jeon Wonwoo, to take the freekick instead. Jeon is the second in command, dedicating two years of his college career to this team. He's scored sixteen percent of the game-winning goals this season, opting to stay in the shadows." You didn't like that.

"Alright, alright…it seems we're lining up…Eagles are looking fine this year, aren't they?" "Jeon, that's inappropriate." "What, man? You're going to look at Kim Yugyeom and say I'm wrong?" "Jungkook, they can hear you."

"Hey, shit. Here's your soda." Tzuyu slides in next to you, and you don't unglue your eyes from the field as you reach and fumble for your drink. The straw poked your hand as Mingyu slid past you, making you scowl as you swatted his leg for him to sit down.

"Wonwoo's taking the kick? I thought it was going to be Cheol." Mingyu muttered, taking a bite from his hot dog. You nodded, watching as Wonwoo shook his head while still talking to Seungcheol. His hands were moving rapidly, likely explaining why Wonwoo didn't want to make the kick. Your boyfriend only gave Wonwoo a stern look, and you could make out the words falling from his lips.

"I believe in you. Kick the fucking ball."

You watched as the Eagles made their wall, their goalie shaking his legs out. Kwon Soonyoung, you remembered – you'd met him at a frat party at Yonsei a few weeks back. Seungcheol had gone with you, making friends with the enemy (more like scoping out his competition. Sneaky bitch.) "C'mon, Woo." You mumbled to yourself, grabbing Tzuyu's hand for support as she shoved a nacho into her mouth. You were too amped up to eat, this kick was the one that would settle the score – and it was all on Wonwoo.

You knew Seungcheol wouldn't put anyone he didn't trust on this sort of line. Yeah, he had an issue with how close you and Wonwoo were, but his team was important to him – he'd built this one on his own, handpicked, the best of the best. You trusted Seungcheol knew what he was doing, and that he wouldn't set up Wonwoo for failure…

…And he didn't, as you watched Wonwoo's kick bounce off the goalpost and straight into the net – just barely missing Soonyoung's fingertips.

"THE HAWKS ARE GOING TO THE CHAMPIONSHIPS!"

You cheered happily, the only one besides Mingyu and Tzuyu – and earned the nastiest of glares from Yonsei students as you ran down the steps of the bleachers. Seungcheol was jumping with his arms around Wonwoo and another player, Wen Junhui, when you pushed past them to get to your friend.

"Wonwoo! That was fucking amazing!"

He just shook his head, aiming the water bottle into his mouth as he gestured towards Seungcheol.

"That's all Cheol's idea. Mastermind behind it all." You whipped around to see your grinning boyfriend being shaken by Mingyu, trying to pry himself from your friend's embrace as you felt the cold splash of the water cooler being poured on Wonwoo. It went down your back as well, making you squeal as you jumped out of the way. Seungcheol reached his arm out to you, and you grabbed his hand as his teammates picked a soaked Wonwoo up and onto their shoulders.

"We'll meet you at the parking lot!" Mingyu yelled as he and Tzuyu trailed after them, and Seungcheol only gave a thumbs up. It was customary that the entire team went to dinner together, usually still in their stinky and sweaty jerseys but Seungcheol had long refused to let the team be represented that way. Everyone went home to get themselves together, then he footed the bill.

"Cheol, that was great! You're going to the championships!" Your smile was hurting your cheeks as he nodded, pulling you into his chest. He was sweaty and overwhelmingly warm, but you didn't care as he plucked the fabric of your wet shirt off your back in greeting.

"You know…you could've greeted me first." "Oh, not this again! Seungcheol, Wonwoo is just my friend." "I know he is, Y/N." Seungcheol said pointedly, but you felt scrutinized under his arched brow. You felt your lip jut out into a pout, and he sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"C'mon, you can come over to mine and change." He swept your hair back over your shoulders, his fingers brushing your neck. You frowned, your hands floating to his wrists as he shook his head.

"Tell me you love me, Cheol." "I love you, honey. Come on."

It wasn't a lie. Seungcheol did love you, but it'd slightly become less of a romantic love as the months pressed on. He couldn't get over the odd feeling in his stomach when he saw Wonwoo's soft gestures towards you, the way Wonwoo served your drinks at the parties you went to, the way Wonwoo behind a camera made you smile easily – far easier than necessary for someone that was just your friend.

He hated how you didn't see it, the way Wonwoo was in love with you. He could see it, and he knew it was the truth: Wonwoo would visibly tense at the sound of your name. Seungcheol remembers when Junhui asked him his plans last week, and how Wonwoo grimaced when Seungcheol said he was taking you on a date night.

He didn't like feeling this way. He didn't like feeling like his jealousy was festering in the pit of his stomach while you saw it as nothing more than just friendly banter. Granted – Wonwoo never flirted with you, never touched you inappropriately, he never crossed the line.

But the soft compliments he gave you? The gentle swipe of your hair off your face and the adjustment of your necklaces?

The way he calmly called your name, or sweetheart from across the room…

And you listened.

It wasn't your fault. Seungcheol knew it wasn't, and he felt like a fool to keep feeling so much resentment towards Wonwoo – especially when Wonwoo also made it strictly known that everything he felt was platonic.

It just didn't feel that way.

"I love you, Cheol." "I know, honey. Now…let's get dinner?"

– FIVE YEARS AGO: INCHEON AIRPORT TO LAGUARDIA, NEW YORK.

"I'm sorry."

You were standing in the middle of Incheon Airport, your duffle bag tucked over your shoulder when Hansol dropped the bomb.

"Sorry?" You whispered, your voice shaky as the reality of his words sank in.

It'd been a few days since you packed your last box and dropped it off at your parents' house. Hansol had gone with you, warmly greeting your parents and sitting in your living room, your mother showing him baby photos. You remember feeling your heart race at how Hansol traced your face in the pictures, before glancing up at you.

The wild beating in your chest hadn't been positive, and there was a glint of knowing in Hansol's eyes. The relationship was over, it was just a matter of who pulled the plug, and when. It had been a month or so since you settled everything in New York, and a month since either of you spoke about it. You had gone to his apartment and looked to pick a fight – but the fight never happened. He pulled you into him, and you had snuggled in his bed. You kissed, you watched movies…

But it was a goodbye and you denied it. In your heart, in your mind, you wanted to deny it. It was a good thing, wasn't it? To be in New York and know that Hansol had connections there? His sister lived there. If he wanted…if he wanted, he could come with you. Transfer to a university in New York, and it would be worth it. To study in a place he once called home, to breathe in the inspiration of the city that has been the background of hundreds of films, the breeding ground of insane creativity? And if not…what about you? Were you enough to want to move in with? Did he see a future with you where things were more than just college sweethearts who stayed over at each other's apartments more than four times a week? Did he understand who you were, to the depths – the need to love, because you were overflowing with it?

Did he see a future where you were more than just attached at the hip with Wonwoo?

The truth was, he did. He saw it all with you – the apartment, the marriage, hell, even a kid or two. He saw all of it, a ring and a career alongside you and to see all your hopes and aspirations grow into something tangible. He saw it.

You didn't.

"I know it's shitty of m-me to do this, especially n-now." He held back his tears, but his voice shook with bitten back sobs anyway. "But I can't. I c-can't do long distance."

Somehow, he knew you knew that wasn't the real reason. He knew, from the way the back of your eyes filled with hurt and betrayal, the grip on your duffle making the strap burrow into your hand. The way you bounced on your toes, once, twice – before nodding. A singular tear rolled down your face.

"It's okay. I understand." Your voice had been surprisingly steady as he hesitated, before reaching his arms out. You stepped into them, and somehow felt the weight off your shoulders as he hugged you tightly. "I'll miss you, Sol." "I miss you already, babe. Please call me when you land, okay? I'll be up, I swear."

You had called him when you landed. He'd arranged to have a car pick you up and take you to your new apartment. He finally cried on the phone, and you sobbed with him as you made your bed and settled in.

After six hours of reminiscing and crying on the phone, you hung up for what you thought would be the last time. He wished you good luck, and to call him whenever you wanted. And God, you wanted to.

But just like Wonwoo, you left it alone. Six months, not a single word.

– PRESENT: LAGUARDIA AIRPORT TO JEON WONWOO, HOME.

You looked into the empty space you used to call your second home. Gone were the calming periwinkle walls, the gold-detailed pastry cases. Gone were your cherry wood bar stools, the wicker recliners in the corner, the play areas for children.

Your shop was gone, and you held the keys in your hand one last time.

"End of an era, huh? Where are you going to go now?" Mr. Cortéz was next to you, holding his granddaughter on his hip as you sighed.

"I'm not sure. I'm going to miss Harlem, but I know that…this isn't home." You said sheepishly, running a hand through your hair. He nodded, patting your shoulder with a sympathetic smile.

"We're going to miss you here, mija. You will always have a place in Harlem with us." To say you wanted to cry was an understatement, but you just blinked the tears back as you allowed him and his granddaughter to envelope you into an embrace. "I left my cupcake recipe with your wife, so you can always make them for Elisa. I'm going to miss you."

"Be safe, okay? Don't give up on your dreams." He patted your back softly, and you held back a sniffle as your leasing agent gave you a soft smile. Goodbyes were never something you were good at, but you couldn't say anything more as you handed your keys back to the leasing agent and turned to your packed car. You grimaced at the sight of Euijoo's neck pillow still in your passenger seat, and you reached in through the window to grab it and shoved it in the trash.

You sighed, glancing up at your empty shop once more before slipping into the driver's seat, gripping the glittery wheel cover. You blinked once, twice, before shoving your key in the ignition and pulling out of your parking spot.

You truly had no idea if this was the right decision. In your mind, you weren't sure.

But your heart?

You broke up with Euijoo a few months ago, and kicked him out of your apartment. You slowly started selling everything in the apartment, only packing your essentials and finding a wholesale thrift to take all your furniture from the pastry shop. You closed the shop officially a week ago, and did a mass bake sale to finish all your products.

You went back and forth to Seoul without telling anyone, finding a cozy apartment in Gangnam and meeting with a leasing agent there to open a shop. Your parents long stopped asking you to come home, but you couldn't help and feel giddy as you walked around the city – gorging yourself on hot street food and buying furniture for your new apartment without interference.

Now? You just had to board your plane. You'd sold your car to Euijoo's brother, Hyunjin, and he was waiting at the airport to take it once you left. You had zero plans of telling anyone anything, and you'd be landing in Seoul the day before your birthday. You could catch up on any sleep, and then visit Mingyu and Tzuyu's restaurant. Maybe get dinner there, maybe catch up with the couple…

Maybe surprise Wonwoo.

Yeah, that sounds like the plan.

"Nice change of scenery, finally took a vacation?" Wonwoo's voice is once more staticky through FaceTime, and you've got him propped up in your new bathroom. You hadn't said anything about leaving New York yet, but you shrugged as you carefully lined your lips.

"Mhm, could say that. Finally get to do shit without Euijoo weighing me down. What are your plans tonight? Going to Gyu's?" You ask nonchalantly, but you can feel your hands trembling as you put down your lipliner. If Wonwoo notices, he doesn't say anything.

"Actually, I'm going to swing by the restaurant in a bit. We always call you for your birthday, you know, so it's funny you called me first." He nods lightly, but you know Wonwoo too well to think he's not even slightly suspicious. "Wanted to beat you to it, I guess. I feel alone here a bit, the resort is super nice but I'm so…ugh, I don't know. I might go out for a beer, see what kind of trouble I can get myself into." You wiggle your brows in the camera, and Wonwoo snorts. He swings his keys in front of him, shaking his head as he speaks.

"Not too much trouble, I hope. Have you talked to your parents yet? I know your mom misses you, you've been even more MIA since you and Euijoo broke up. I commend it, don't get me wrong, but still. Where the hell have you been?" "Healing." You shrug, smushing your cheek with the palm of your hand. Wonwoo doesn't look like he believes you, but you only give him a soft smile. He tries to bite his back, tonguing his cheek as he huffs.

"You look happier. I like that." "I feel happier, Woo." It's not a lie. You feel so much lighter being back in Seoul, knowing that your family and friends are no more than a train ride away.

You pretend to check your watch, sucking your teeth.

"Shit, I'm going to miss my dinner reservation. Will you still call me when you get to the restaurant? I miss you guys." You pout, tucking your hair behind your ears as Wonwoo nods.

"Yeah, no worries. Be safe, and don't get too tipsy. I can't hold your hair when you throw up from all the way over here, you know." He scolds, making you giggle.

"Got it. I'll see you, yeah?" You nod, and he does the same.

"See you, sweetheart." The call goes dead as your heart registers the pet name, but you immediately rustle out of the bathroom to catch a taxi. You're wearing a black crew neck over a nice pair of jeans, paired with your favorite dirty Chucks in forest green. You grab your winter coat off the hook by the door, tugging it on and shoving your phone in your pocket. Checking the coat pockets for your wallet and keys, you find both in the left pocket and practically slam out of your apartment.

Not having been to Mingyu and Tzuyu's restaurant definitely proved navigating there to be difficult. You got out a block away from the actual spot, tugging a face mask over your face and pulling the hood of your coat over your hair. You take a deep breath, taking a step forward when you see a tall man step out of a taxi, a black coat covering broad shoulders. Thick frames sit on his nose, the lower half of his face covered by a black mask. You squint your eyes to see closer as he hands the driver a wad of cash, and the crinkle of his nose proves it's exactly who you're looking for.

Jeon Wonwoo.

You stay rooted in your spot as he walks coolly into the restaurant, holding the door open for a woman and her daughter to slip out. The daughter's eyes widen as he moves past them, her cheeks flushing as her mother rushes her off the sidewalk. What a funny thing, to see someone else experience the same things you do.

Over the year that you decided to leave New York, you spoke to Hansol and Seungcheol a lot – even after promising 'this is the last call,' you called them again and again. As it turns out, he too felt that Wonwoo was a bigger part of your life than he could ever be, but it didn't hit him until he found out Wonwoo had missed every single AV Club meeting in the two weeks following him finding out that the two of you were dating. Wonwoo didn't speak to Hansol directly for over a month, until Hansol confronted him and got the answers he was looking for.

Wonwoo had long been in love with you, and had gone over to your apartment initially to, yes, tell you he'd broken up with Jaehee; but he also went over there to confess to you. He'd brought over a bouquet of pink camellias, but left them on the porch in case he caught you at a bad time – and Hansol later found out he threw them away on his way out of your apartment complex.

At first, Hansol had nothing to say on the matter. You were his girlfriend — but he couldn’t lie to himself, the guilt of knowing Wonwoo had been in love with you for so long was starting to eat away at him. With a reluctant heart, he ended things; only for Wonwoo’s dumbass to not make a move and let you slip away to New York.

You'd also heard from Seungcheol and Hansol that he hadn't kept a girlfriend around for too long since – nothing to write home about. He didn't introduce any of them to anyone, just soft launched here and there on social media but mostly kept the "situationships" to himself.

The only hope you had in your belly was that your plan would go, well, according to plan. You'd ordered a bouquet of flowers, pink camellias, to be delivered to Wonwoo at the restaurant after you arrived. After that…okay you didn't plan anything after that, but spontaneity is cool, right?

You wipe your palms on your coat, taking a deep breath as you walk towards the door. Yanking it open, you hear the doorbell alert the people inside – only to see a few people scattered around. Mingyu is wiping a glass down behind the bar and Tzuyu is sitting on a barstool next to Wonwoo, her left hand sitting atop her belly.

With a huge rock on her ring finger. "Welcome to Hana's! Have a seat anywhere, we'll be right with you!" Her voice is just as warm as ever, and you find yourself forcing your feet to move, ducking your head as you head towards the back of the restaurant. You see Mingyu lean over to grab a bottle off the wall, and you slide into one of the booths where you're out of sight but they're not.

You can hear them start to talk about you, Mingyu pouring Wonwoo a beer and sliding it across the bar.

"Has Y/N spoken to either of you?" Tzuyu asks, and Wonwoo clicks his tongue.

"Yeah, she called me earlier. It was a little odd, considering we always call her. But it's her birthday, I'm not going to badger her for answers. Plus, she's on vacation for once. Can't complain." He shrugs, and Mingyu laughs softly.

"Vacation? Where? Did she say?" "I didn't ask." Wonwoo replies, and Tzuyu snorts. "You'd be a horrible spy, Jeon. Here, I'm going to call her. She's gotten better at answering." You watch Tzuyu grab her phone off the table, and quickly lower your ringer as far as it will go. She faces the phone towards all of them, and Wonwoo looks unamused as you feel your phone start vibrating in your hand.

You deny the call, quickly texting her that you're driving to dinner and will call her when you get to the restaurant. A lie, and you can see her frown sadly next to Wonwoo. She puts her phone down, sliding off the bar stool – likely on her way to you.

"Gonna take this order, I'll be right back." She grabs the notepad off the bar, but the ringing of the doorbell grabs her attention. A delivery man with a huge bouquet of flowers slips in, holding the baby blue gift card in his hand.

"For Jeon Wonwoo? Is there a Jeon Wonwoo here?" Wonwoo's eyes go wide, before he clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. That's me, thank you. Does it say who they're from?" The delivery man hands him the card, bidding everyone a good night.

"Well?" Mingyu leans over as Wonwoo puts the flowers down on the bar and flips the card open. His eyes dart back and forth as he reads it, before handing it to Mingyu, who reads it out loud while Wonwoo thumbs the petals.

To Wonwoo,

Thank you for always being someone I can count on, even when I'm halfway across the world. Thank you for looking out for me, and for loving me more than you let on.

Always yours, Y/N.

P.S. Don't forget to call me back!

"Huh." Mingyu clicks his tongue, and Tzuyu grabs the card and scans it. She sighs, holding it to her chest.

"Camellias…" Wonwoo pouts, before his eyes narrow. "They're her favorite. It's like she's trying to tell me something." "Okay, mind reader. What could she possibly have to say that isn't already in the card?" Tzuyu waves it around, and you take it as your chance to slide out of the booth, hands in your pockets. You walk towards them quietly as Mingyu and Tzuyu begin to theorize, and neither of them look your way as you slide into the barstool diagonal to Wonwoo's.

"She probably wants to know what a girl's gotta do to get some service around here." You mumble, and Tzuyu flushes, about to apologize when you carefully slip your mask off.

"But I guess you can treat me, since it is my birthday." You shrug, Mingyu's eyes widening before he covers his face and sinks to the ground behind the bar. Tzuyu scoffs out a laugh, her eyes filling with tears as she pulls your hood off your head, her hands smoothing your hair down gently.

"You're home." She whispers, her belly getting in the way as she pulls you into her. You feel your eyes burn with tears as she buries her face in your hair, your hand moving to pat her back. "I am, I missed you guys." You murmur, and Mingyu hops over the bar to also crush you in his embrace. You can barely see out of your teary eyes, but you can see Wonwoo's cheeks flushed almost as pink as the flowers, the shock in his demeanor evident but he just clears his throat and looks away.

"How long are you here for? A week? A month? Please say a month, you have to meet our kids." Mingyu begs into your hair, and you can barely conjure words as Wonwoo stays silent. "Shit, I'll even buy you a new ticket back to New York if you stay for two months." You don't respond, waiting for the couple to pull away. You wiggle lightly, making them both move back as you wipe your eyes. "I'm here for good. I have a new place in Gangnam, and I'm opening a shop a few blocks from here. I'm…I'm sorry I didn't tell any of you guys." You gesture towards Wonwoo as well, who only tongues his cheek before running the tips of his fingers around the rim of his beer. He nods, "Yeah. Welcome home, sweetheart." "You're not even going to hug me? Some friend you are." You try to joke, and Wonwoo scoffs,before reluctantly sliding off his stool. Tzuyu says something about getting you dinner, skirting out of the way. It seems Mingyu also gets the hint, moving away with the promise of a nice beer.

You're overwhelmed by the same patchouli scent on Wonwoo’s clothes, sweetened with notes of peach as he wraps his arms around your waist. Your own wrap around his shoulders, and you can feel your heart thundering in your chest as he breathes you in softly. He nestles his head next to yours, and his breath is warm against your ear as he speaks.

"I've missed you so much, Y/N." He mumbles, and you feel his arms tighten slightly, as if you're going to slip away. "We need to have a serious conversation, though, because I am mad at you."

You scoff slightly, trying to hide your tears as you bury your face in his neck. He rubs your back gently, before pulling away and wiping your eyes carefully. "Later." You only nod, watching Tzuyu carefully walk over with a bowl of hot tofu stew, and Mingyu slides a pint glass across the bar for you.

You spend the next three hours consoling an emotional Tzuyu, and telling Mingyu all about the delicious dishes you tried in New York. He jests that the restaurant would love a pastry chef if you're willing to share your recipes, and you only snort and turn him down softly. You tell them all about Euijoo, only earning scoffs and huffs from the couple as Wonwoo nurses his beer silently.

You tell them about your shop in Harlem, and how it was actually a call with Wonwoo last year that made you realize that you were unhappy – which made his cheeks flush, but he remained quiet, only nodding along. Tzuyu squeezes his shoulder, and he just nibbles on his lip as you keep talking about all the regulars you had. You tell them about your SoHo apartment and how you often visited the Seaglass Carousel if you were feeling stressed. You promised to take them there someday, if they ever wanted to see what your life was like when you were gone.

They fill you in about their own lives – planning their wedding, having their second daughter in a few weeks. They talk about their oldest, Eunha, and how she's growing up to be just like Mingyu. You hold back tears as they eagerly talk about their budding family and their beautiful relationship, often sharing looks full of adoration and admiration for one another as they spoke. You listen carefully, and Tzuyu even asks if, since you're back, you'd like to be a bridesmaid.

You agree, when Mingyu finally brings out a thick slice of his infamous chocolate cake – one that actually got you into baking but you'd never admit it. At least, not to him.

"Happy Birthday, Y/N! We're so glad you're home, seriously. It's been so dull without you." Tzuyu cheers, allowing Mingyu to light the pink candle in the middle of the slice. You smile softly, tucking your hair behind your ears as they sing to you softly – Wonwoo mouthing along from his stool.

"Make a wish." Mingyu holds it up to you, and you can't help but realize that he's a father now. Tzuyu is a mother, and they have their whole lives figured out. They're so gentle, loving, passionate…and you're still trying to figure yourself out.

Ah, but comparison is the thief of joy.

You close your eyes, sighing before conjuring your wish in your mind.

You don't notice when Wonwoo takes a quick photo, the flash hidden by Tzuyu's shoulder.

You blow out the candle quietly, opening your eyes to see the couple clapping softly. Tapping the plate, you clear your throat.

"Can I get this in a box? I have some things I need to sort out before the night ends."

Mingyu and Tzuyu share a look, before she glances over her shoulder. You nod as she looks back at you, and she smiles.

"Well, we'll see you more often, right? You have to meet Eunha, and the baby."

"Absolutely." And you mean it. You mean it as Mingyu boxes up your slice of cake, sealing it into a brown paper bag for you. You inch closer and closer to Wonwoo as the goodbyes become extensive, before splaying your hand across his back. He glances over his shoulder, a jump in his brows as if to say, ready to go?

You bid Mingyu and Tzuyu a good night, and you promise them you'll even try to come by in the morning for Mingyu's mother's oxtail soup. Mingyu says he can't promise there will be any up by the time you come by, but you make Tzuyu promise to save you a bowl. She does.

"When did you sell the shop?" Wonwoo asks as the two of you step out into the street, the cold air making his breath visible as he speaks. "And why didn't you tell me?" You look at the flowers in his arms, how he holds them like a baby.

"I was worried you'd be upset that I gave up." You murmur as the two of you begin to walk seemingly with no direction, earning a sigh from Wonwoo.

“I’m upset that you didn’t even think to tell me anything. I’m supposed to be your friend. One of your best friends, if I’m not mistaken. You move across the world and suddenly that doesn’t matter anymore?”

“Wonwoo, it’s not like that. I just…I should know what I want out of life. I should know where my heart calls home, but it’s only been a person. I’m not sure if the place matters.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair as Wonwoo flags down a taxi.

“Your place or mine?” He mutters, opening the door for you to slide in.

“Yours.” You mumble back, giving the driver a quick smile as Wonwoo shuts the door. He rattles off his address — and it’s the same building as yours.

“…I live there, too.” You whisper, and he clicks his tongue.

“Good to know.” He shrugs, before reaching over and tugging your seat belt on. He clicks in place, choosing to stay silent as the taxi weaves through the busy roads. You want to say something, and you attempt to several times — but he just shakes his head, pressing a finger to his lips as if to say wait.

And wait, you did.

You let him pay the taxi driver and help you out of the taxi. You let him lead you into the lobby, the security guard giving the both of you a curt nod as you duck into the elevator.

Wonwoo only lives a few doors down from you.

“Interesting.” You murmur to yourself. It’s like I’ll always find my way back to you.

He unlocked his door, holding it open for you to slip through. You did, silently toeing your shoes off in his foyer before stepping into his living room. Shrugging your coat off, you watch him flick the lights on.

Everything is so him. From stacked consoles on the side of his television, to a bookcase full of acoustic guitar records and a few thick books. A few of his cameras are strewn on his kitchen table, popped open and film exposed. His record player sits in front of his window, the blinds and curtains pushed open and the window slightly ajar to circulate the air. There is a mug on his coffee table, half full of what you assume to be green tea.

It smells like patchouli, peaches, and home.

His hand takes the bag from you, and he walks past you to place the flowers and the cake on his kitchen counter. He closes his eyes as he tugs his coat off, and you avert your eyes from his form-fitting shirt — opting to turn around and hang your coat on the rack by the door.

“Are you actually here for good? Or was that just something you said to appease Mingyu and Tzuyu?” He mutters, thumbing at the petals of the flowers once more. You sigh, crossing your arms as you sidle up next to him. Your hip bumps his as you lean on the counter, and his eyes avoid yours as you look up at him.

His shoulders are tense.

“I’m here for good, Wonwoo. I missed it here, I missed Mingyu and Tzuyu and I missed my parents.”

“What about me? Did you miss me?”

His voice is so soft you almost can’t hear it, and you purposely bump your hip to his to garner his attention.

“Of course I missed you.” You whisper, a smile twitching at your lips as he nibbles on his lip.

“Then why didn’t you visit? Why did it take you six months to call me when you first moved? Why…Why did you date Euijoo?”

You feel your chest ache at his questions, the furrow in his brows making you push off the counter, straightening. Sighing, you rest your head on his bicep, the muscle tensing beneath your cheek.

“Sometimes we do things to fill a void, you know? Sometimes we hide from the things we know could be good for us, and look for something we think could be enough, so we won’t ruin or sully what we have already.” You shrug, and he looks down at you again.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I wish I would’ve realized how you felt about me before I left. I mean, I would’ve still gone but I would’ve visited more. I would’ve come back often, tried to make it work. I’m sorry.”

You peer up at him through your lashes, and he just shakes his head.

“My feelings here don’t matter, I’m talking about you.”

“You are a huge part of me, of my life.” You remind him, your hand ghosting over the small of his back as he huffs.

“So you abandoned your life in New York, your dream, for me?” Wonwoo sounds almost offended, and you scoff.

“I abandoned my life in New York because I missed home. I missed my parents, my friends. I miss talking to my friends when we’re all staying up late, not just when I am and I have to go to bed when the gab gets good. I…I missed walking around in the middle of the night with you, and getting heartburn from eating spicy noodles at two in the morning. Can’t I miss home, Wonwoo?”

He clicks his tongue, tapping his fingers on the counter. “I guess you can. But you said home for you is not a place, but a person.”

“I did say that.”

He doesn’t say anything, picking at his nails silently before sighing.

“Did Hansol tell you about the flowers?” He murmurs, and you nod.

“You could’ve talked to me, especially between boyfriends. You had lots of chances, Seungcheol literally aired you out.” You say pointedly, and he rolls his eyes.

“You didn’t believe him, and I wasn’t going to ruin our friendship because I was feeling something you weren't.”

“And how do you know that I wasn’t?” You raise a brow, and he scoffs. He shoves his hands in his pockets, moving out of the kitchen to go sit on his couch. He leans his head against the wall, closing his eyes as you make your way over and perch on the edge of his mahogany coffee table.

“I’m sorry I missed your birthday dinner that one year. I thought if I missed one, it’d be easier to start getting used to not seeing you. I was fully committed to getting over you, to moving on, even if I wasn’t happy with…fuck, I forgot her name.”

“Jaehee.”

“With Jaehee.” He ran his hand over his face, and you sigh.

“That was ages ago, Wonwoo. We move on.” You pat his knee, and he lifts his head to face you. His cheeks are slightly flushed as he takes a breath.

“I don’t want to move on, that’s the problem. You think I haven’t tried? Do you know how many relationships I’ve been in since you’ve left?”

“Mmh, I don’t. Do tell.” You nod, inching slightly closer, resting your elbows on your knees and clasping your hands together. He doesn’t look amused, running an exasperated hand through his hair and closing his eyes.

“I look for you everywhere, and I’ve never even had you. I can’t help but compare every single woman I’ve ever been with to you, Y/N. It’s driving me fucking insane, being in love with you.”

He’s hiding his face in his hands, and you feel your chest grow hot as you hum in response. You shift slightly, your knees bumping his and making him sigh.

“I mean, for years it's been like we're in this odd mesh of limerence and denial. You do something that makes me think, oh, maybe she's into me? You'd seek me out for comfort, for help, for whatever, and I was there. I am there, like an idiot, hoping you'll just get it. Then you date people who are in proximity to me – my best friend, my team captain, the secretary of my AV club. Then you leave. You left, Y/N."

"I know." You can't recognize the thickness in the back of your throat, the way you swallow around it as he fiddles with one of his rings. "You didn't even come say goodbye, Wonwoo. Hansol ripped my heart out and handed it to me, because of you, and you weren't even there." "I didn't want to see you cry." He mumbles, and you only shake your head.

"You've seen me cry, you've seen me laugh. You've been the reason behind the tears and the laughter. You've seen me in all these weird spots in my life, you watched me date all these men. You were most of the reason as to why these men broke up with me. Yet, you never once thought that I was looking for you?" "Why would I ever give myself that much importance?" He scoffs, and you shrug. "Maybe because I give you that much importance, Wonwoo."

He sighs shakily, leaning back on the couch cushions and swallowing hard. "Did you know I got a few collections displayed in a museum after you left? Your parents went, did they send you photos?"

"Some. I liked the one of Tzuyu and Mingyu in the flower fields." He got up, skirting around your knees and walking up to the bookcase next to his TV. He scours the leather bound books, before a soft aha! falls from his lips, pulling out a green one. He flips it, and you realize it's a photo album.

He hands it to you, sitting back down on the couch. You open it tentatively, your fingers trembling as the photos come into view. They have that digital camera feel to them, a bit grainy and dated. The first photo was old, you could tell just from the image: it was you and Mingyu, sitting around a bonfire at a waterfall you would hang out at during the warmer months, one that went into a lake lined with boulders. You were dating here, and your nose had melted marshmallow swiped across it while Mingyu grinned in the corner of the photo.

"This is an old photo, Wonwoo." "They're all old, you haven't been around." He retorts, before flipping the page.

Another photo of you smiling as you laid out on the flat boulder by the edge of the lake, another of you on the handlebars of Mingyu's bike – you remember that one, it was Mingyu's seventeenth birthday. Another of you with Tzuyu solving a puzzle during one of Mingyu's visits, you and Hansol sharing a cup of lemonade during a snack run after one of Wonwoo's soccer games, you and Seungcheol swinging on a hammock in the park – where you often bumped into Wonwoo taking photos of birds, flowers, life.

There was photo after photo of you, in every moment of your life. There was a photo of the pink camellias he'd gotten for you, there was a photo of his student apartment packed up but one of your cardigans, bright red, stark against the cardboard boxes. This album, full of memories of you through his eyes – without a singular glimpse of Wonwoo, until the last photo.

It wasn't like the other photos – this was high definition, and you remember this photo being taken. You were wearing a pink t-shirt that had belonged to Wonwoo, and a necklace that Wonwoo had given to you for one of your birthdays. You were sitting on his couch, surrounded by Mingyu and Tzuyu. You had a bag of honey mustard pretzels that Wonwoo bought you in your lap, your smile shy and your fingers holding a napkin.

It was the day you finally told them you'd be leaving, just moments before.

And you remember how quietly he'd put his camera away after that, and your friends had settled uneasily around you. Wonwoo sat on his coffee table, eyes worried but masked with a soft smile – just like you were, now.

The album was empty after that, with only two or three pages left to complete it.

"This was an exhibit I arranged for the museum, but I never submitted it. I called it Hanging By A Moment, because that's what…" He takes a deep breath. "That's what this feels like. I feel like I'm just waiting for the moment to end, and I'm not sure in which direction I would prefer it to happen. Sometimes I would stay awake and wonder why I didn't go visit you, but I knew exactly why." You set the photo album on your lap, giving him a gentle look.

"You didn't want to see something that would break your heart." "I didn't want to see you happy with someone else, somewhere else." His voice is thick, and you move to speak but he shakes his head.

"I didn't want to go somewhere and see you living so well without me, when I'm in shambles without you. I couldn't sleep most nights the first year that you were gone. I found myself still walking towards your apartment with Hansol. Hell, I've even hung out with Seungcheol, routinely, just to feel the influence of you. The essence of what you are, imprinted in the people you've graced with your presence." He's looking down at his hands, a singular tear rolling down his cheek. You feel like you can't breathe around the lump in your throat, as he glances up.

"I don't think I can handle this anymore. I need you to say nothing is ever going to happen between us, that the moment is over. I need you to end this, because if you don't, I never will."

You can't speak, but it doesn't matter – because he keeps going.

"I'd be perfectly content having you within arm's reach for the rest of my life, as long as you're happy. You could be across the world, hell, across the fucking universe and I'd never stop missing you, or yearning for you, or loving you. Befriending you all those years ago has got to be one of the biggest mistakes I have ever made, because I can't imagine a life without you. But loving you, being in love with you? Y/N, that has got to be the biggest grace I've ever been given by whatever God is out there. Nothing has ever been easier than loving you has been, but it is the most painful thing I've ever experienced. So, please. End this, I'm begging you." Your throat hurts from holding back your tears, a soft sob escaping your lips as you turn away. You let the tears run down your cheeks, using your hand to muffle your cries as he just lets his tears drip onto his jeans. You can see, through blurry eyes, the way he wants to reach for you, the way his hands clenched into fists before he shoves them under his thighs.

It's silent for a moment, aside from shaky breathing and a few sniffles from Wonwoo. You wipe your eyes carefully, trembling hands gripping the edges of the album as you slide it onto the coffee table next to you. He grabs it, using it as an excuse to stand up and move around – Wonwoo always needed to do that after talking. Like he felt the need to exert all his feelings physically.

You also stand, his rug soft under your socked feet as he slides the album back in place. He doesn't turn back around, his hand lingering on the spine of the album as you round the coffee table. You're right behind him, seeing the buried tension in his back and shoulders as he feels your presence. You clear your throat as best as you can.

"I don't want the moment to end." He doesn't move, and you find yourself stepping in front of him, between the bookcase and his chest. He doesn't look at you, but allows your hands to find home on his chest. You smooth his shirt cautiously, before patting him gently.

He glances down.

"You're my home, Wonwoo." You say softly, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. Your hand moves to his jaw, your thumb gently tracing circles into his cheek. He has a bit of stubble, despite the cool scent of his aftershave. You can't help but let the sacred words slip from your lips as his eyes bore into yours.

"I love you." He looks away, a shaky sob from his lips making your heart ache as you rest your head on his chest. He instinctively wraps his arms around you, so used to your physical affection in years past that it's just muscle memory at this point – despite his own reserved affections. You're surrounded by his scent, his warmth, him.

"I know it won't be easy. I've been gone for five years, and I've missed so much of your life. I know my apologies count for near nothing at this point, but you can't sincerely believe that I haven't yearned for you every step of my journey away." You're slightly muffled, feeling the metal of his necklace under his shirt as he holds you closer, tighter. He doesn't reply, so you keep going.

"I love you, Wonwoo. I'm sorry I didn't allow myself to feel it before, and I'm sorry that I've made you wait so long. I'll wait, as long as you need me to. As long as you want me to wait, even if I die waiting–" "I'd wait an eternity for you." He murmurs into your hair, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

"You shouldn't say that, Wonwoo." "But I did, and I will. I'd die waiting for you, if that's what it takes."

You sigh, pressing your forehead to his chest. "Are you still mad at me?" For the first time in years, you hear him laugh softly. Your arms tighten around his waist reflexively, a pout on your lips as you peer up at him. "I missed your laugh." He huffs, cheeks tinging pink as he avoids your gaze, carding his fingers through your hair. "I'm still mad at you. I bet you paid a shit load of money for a cab from the airport, didn't you? You could've just told me to come pick you up. I would've done it." "I wanted to surprise you." "Well…what about your apartment? I didn't even get to recommend this place, you probably went through some real estate guy–" "You're just grappling at things to be mad about, aren't you?" "No. I am mad." He grumbles, his lip jutted out in a pout as you smile up at him.

"You sure? Can't I change your mind, my good sir?" You wiggle your brows, and he scoffs, but you see the twitch of a smile on the corner of his lips. He tongues his cheek as your hands move to his face, making him look down at you. "I'm sorry, Wonwoo." He rolls his eyes, your hands squishing his cheeks together. "Prove it." You quirk a brow, "Prove…what?" "That you love me. Prove it." He shrugs, moving your hands off his face and letting them go at your sides. You scoff, gesturing to the air.

"I'm here, aren't I? Isn't that enough?" You cross your arms, a defiant look crossing your features as he sighs. His fingers are warm as they tuck a stray curl behind your ear, your skin prickling as he thumbs at your earlobe. "Of course it's enough." He mumbles, "You'll always be enough. More, even. More than enough for me."

You think he mumbles I love you.

Your face grows hot as he scans it, eyes heavy with purpose and love. For the first time, you allow yourself to realize how nervous Wonwoo makes you – your heart racing in your chest as you lean closer to him. He doesn't back away, his hand now gently holding your jaw. His thumb rests on the corner of your lip, the weight so comforting. "Kiss me." You do just that, your lips crashing into his as he steadies your body. Your hands fist his shirt as he kisses you slowly, walking you back into the bookshelf. Your back hits it gently, his hands cupping your face softly as he pulls away. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed as your fingers circled his wrists. "I missed you so much, sweetheart." "I missed you too, Wonwoo."

He struggles to bite back his smile, your lips pressing a chaste kiss to his before peppering them all over his face. "You can't stay mad at me forever, you know." You speak through kisses, his nose scrunching as you press your lips to it.

"I can certainly try. You know I can hold a mean grudge." "Mingyu ate your leftovers once, Wonwoo. He literally cooked for you everyday of college, you need to let it go." "You're taking his side? Some friend you are." He scoffs, his hands pushing your hair off your shoulders. You wrap your arms around his waist, your chin in the center of his chest as you pout up at him.

"I flew all this way, I confessed my love…and I'm your friend?" He tongues his cheek, swallowing his laughter as he shakes his head. "Well, no. A friend wouldn't leave me for five years and then suddenly show back up–" "Wonwoo." " –And expect me to just forgive her. You could at least try and get in my good graces." You huff, "So you hate me." "No, no. I'm very much in love with you, actually. However, though love is merciful…I am not as much. You said you'd wait." "Wonwoo–" "Ah, ah. You said you'd wait. So you will." He shrugs, running his hand through your hair. He twirls a piece around his finger, "I know that you know how I feel about you, from other people's minds and mouths. I think it's best if I get to show you, truthfully and openly. Don't you?" You say nothing just yet, choosing to stare up at him with a hint of worry in your eyes. He glances down, the hand in your hair coming to gently hold your jaw. "What if you realize you don't want me?" "Oh, sweetheart. I'd be a fool not to want you. Let the sky fall the day I make that stupid decision."

You sigh, moving to rest your cheek on his chest. He hums, running his fingertips across your scalp.

"It's not everyday you find a muse in someone the moment you meet them. Don't worry about me ever not wanting you, me ever not needing you." You don't reply, feeling your nose burn as your eyes fill with tears. He pats the back of your head, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Come, I need to take your picture. You need to fill the last few pages of that album."

And, you comply. You let him wipe your tears, pressing kisses to your eyelids as he sits you at his kitchen counter. He pulls out a gold candle from his kitchen drawer, sticking it in the cake slice from the restaurant and lighting it carefully. He pushes your hair back, and pulls the pendant of your necklace out to rest in the middle of your chest.

"Smile, sweetheart." He murmurs behind the camera, and you do. You smile, glossed lips swollen from the kisses, eyes full of stars as you stare at Wonwoo behind the flash. "Make a wish, quickly." You lean forward, closing your eyes when you see another flash behind your lids. Smiling to yourself, you blow the candle out, quickly taking it out of the cake slice. He offers a fork, and you lean on your elbows as he takes out a few bottles of soju.

"What'd you wish for?" He asks, unscrewing one of the lids off the bottles. You smirk around a bite of cake, shaking your head as he turns away to rummage for shot glasses.

"I'm not telling you, it won't come true." He scoffs, pulling out a set of shot glasses you'd given him during college. They have Snoopy and Woodstock doodled on the sides – he was always Woodstock, you were Snoopy.

"Oh, come on. Tell me, I'll make it come true." "What are you, a magician? Tell me what else I missed while I was gone." He rolls his eyes, running his tongue over his lower lip as he slides the Snoopy glass over, filled to the brim with fresh soju. You take it carefully, and he raises a brow.

"Tell me your wish, Y/N." You huff, before reaching over to cheers your glass with his. You both knock back the liquor, and you scrunch your nose as you slide it back over to him. He fills it again, and you shift in your chair.

"If I tell you, you'll have to do it." "Stop being so ominous, I hate it when you do that."

He slides the glass back over, only half full as he sidles up next to you. Your hand instinctively wraps around his bicep, and you rest your cheek on his shoulder.

"Promise me you'll make it come true, Wonwoo." "I promise. It's your birthday, sweetheart. I'd bring down the stars if you asked."

– SIX WEEKS LATER: GOYANGI'S HOME, SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

Wonwoo had done exactly as you asked on your birthday – he kept his word, and tried his best to make your birthday wishes come true. Granted, you underestimated him: he would get both done within the six weeks it took to get your shop open.

After the two of you finished off the thick slice of chocolate cake, Wonwoo asked you to spend the night. You did, and a part of you held back tears as he held you in his arms – mumbling in his sleep. Mumbling about how he loved you, how long he'd waited…

How scared he was you'd slip away, like sand in an hourglass timer.

You'd spent the last month and a half glued at the hip. He took you to visit your parents early in the mornings, who bawled uncontrollably and demanded you'd stay all day. Wonwoo hadn't minded, and he stayed with you for dinner several times – and took many odd photos. He never showed you any of them, but he couldn't let you out of his sight, either.

He accompanied you to all your furniture shopping for the shop, he helped choose the paint, he even went as far as taking your website photos. Which, of course, included photos of you – in the kitchen, in your uniform, making a mess of flour and powdered sugar.

Powdered sugar that he kissed off your lips.

Because neither of you could go more than an hour without seeing each other, you practically moved into his apartment. You were spending almost every night there despite your own bed calling your name like a child does its mother. Wonwoo hadn't been kidding about making you wait, either. He let you kiss him, he told you he loved you, yes – but the dates were casual outings. Dinner, picnics, movies. You had a few game nights, and even went over to Hana's for drinks. You'd decided you were each other's plus ones for Mingyu and Tzuyu's wedding, and submitted such information on your RSVP placards.

You spent time together in copious amounts, something you couldn't ever find a fill of. You made him pastry after pastry, coffee cup after coffee cup, back massage after back massage to ease the tension in his shoulders. He gave you a silver necklace, a small letter W hanging from the center.

You wore it with pride. He didn't ask you to be his girlfriend, and he didn't let you ask any questions about it, either.

Instead, he made your birthday wishes come true – he asked the Museum of Arts if they still needed an exhibit for the season. When they said yes, he submitted his Hanging by a Moment gallery – with a few new additions. You'd loved it, and had proudly gone to the museum at least twice a week to see it.

Now?

You're both standing in your unopened shop, showing your parents everything. The walls are a muted terracotta with a few tangerine accents, to match the feel of the digital photos of your life through Wonwoo's eyes. You asked him to make copies of the photos for you as well, framing them in thick, gold frames.

All but one, that sat in the middle of them all on the wall. "And this is the final installment." He spoke to your parents softly, before gesturing to a photo split in the middle. One half was you, dressed in all black with the silver necklace he'd given you three weeks ago, and holding Wonwoo's digital camera up to your face. Your smile was peeking out from behind your hand, directed right at him.

And the other half was him. The only photo of him in the entire exhibit – of him holding his digital camera vertically against his face, slightly messy hair and a beige t-shirt that was two sizes too big for him but you loved anyway. You'd taken this photo at a street food stand, and he remembers how softly you kissed his cheek right after.

You stood next to him with a soft smile on your face as your father perused the photos, his eyes watery as he looked at the ones of you in college. Your smile, so young and carefree. Your eyes, full of the same shimmer and light you have now – but now, it's brighter. You seem lighter.

Happier.

You seem like you're home.

"What do you think?" You ask gently, wrapping your hand around Wonwoo's arm. He instinctively covers your hand with his, and your father nods.

"I think you're in love." He shrugs, and Wonwoo's cheeks flush almost instantly. You chuckle, squeezing your hand around Wonwoo's arm before patting his chest.

"I've got some new pastries in the oven, shall we? I'm trying a new recipe." You wiggle your brows at your parents, who both smile as you extend your hands to them. They take them gingerly, letting you guide them into the kitchen. You look over your shoulder, sending Wonwoo a quick wink as you slip inside with them.

And, Wonwoo knows.

He knows you love him, as he stands in this shop – named for him, by you. Walls covered in you, by him. He knows you love him as you smile warmly at him, your eyes sparkling in a way he'd only ever seen with him – never with Seungcheol, or Hansol, or Mingyu.

Just him.

So, what does it matter? The moment, why does it matter? Why not hang onto it, as long as he can? Why not take in every ounce of your light so long as you allow it, and reflect it right back to you? Why not be a mirror of your love, a beacon of the same hope you hold, a star in the sky that also tells you there is something to wish upon?

Why waste it, when he can savor it – the way you look at him, the way you kiss him, touch him, the way you make him feel? How he's gone absolutely mad just looking at you in the mornings, slowly waking up by his side, burying your face into his bare chest? Why waste the moment when he can capture it – your smiles, your tears, the way you cover your face shyly when he compliments you.

Why not live in the moment – the feeling of your lips against his, the way you claw his shirt off, the way you whimper beneath him while fully clothed and untouched? Why not live in the moment, where he gets to hear you laugh like no one's listening, watch you dance like there is no tomorrow? Why not, when you ask him to take the long way home and roll the windows down, singing along to his playlist and feeling the air whip your hair around until your face is frosty from the wind.

Why not live in this moment – when you're so irrevocably in love with him, and he doesn't have to ever question it because you don't even need to tell him? Where you've related him to a cat that always finds its way back home, where you're supposedly the home and you are – but you are also the cat that finds her way home all on her own?

Why not? "Wonwoo? Are you listening?" "Huh? Sorry." He rubs his neck sheepishly, before noticing he's sitting at the bar of your shop, a dulce de leche éclair sitting on a plate in front of him. Your parents are in the corner, holding their own pastries and analyzing the photos once more. You're leaning your back on the bar next to him, your elbows holding you up as you reach over and gently carding your fingers through his hair.

"I said, I love you." "Now, why does it sound like you're scheming? Tell me what you really said." "It is, promise." You chuckle, your hand coming to pinch his cheek softly. He frowns, only making you coo up at him as you brush your lips to his. He glances up quickly, seeing your parents still enthralled by the photo of you and Mingyu at the waterfalls all those years ago. He looks back down, seeing you absently scanning his face as your thumb continues to rub circles into his face.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, before your father turns around and clears his throat. You look over your shoulder lazily, and your father has the pastry plates in his hand. "Your mother and I are going to start heading out now, honey. We've got a long drive back, and I'm sure you want to clean up a bit around here before your big opening tomorrow." "You're right, Dad. Thank you for coming, I'm glad you two could be the first to see it." Your voice is so warm, he can feel all the stress from his days just melting right off him as you walk your parents to the front. He follows suit, lingering behind as you and your parents say your goodbyes. He interjects his own, enveloping both of your parents in a hug before pulling away. You both wave as they get into their car, your mother waving back as they pull into the street and all the way down the road, before their car turns out of sight.

You turn around, your arms crossed as you look up.

"Goyangi's Home. What a name, isn't it?" You sigh, before glancing over at Wonwoo. He shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Your giggle is like music to his ears as your hands rest on his chest, your lip tucked beneath your teeth as you look up at him.

"Well, you're home, aren't you?" "Aren't you, Wonwoo?"

"I am. I love you, you know."

He feels his chest ache in the best way possible, his heart beating twice as fast as you wrinkle your nose at him.

"I know. I love you, honey." So it's fine. It's fine, as Wonwoo lets you kiss his lips once, twice, three times before you slip back into the shop. It's fine, as Wonwoo walks in behind you, his fingers locking the front door so no one mistakes the shop as open. It's fine, as you hand him a broom and make him sweep the shop while you roll out the dough in the back, your hands coated in flour when he comes to steal a kiss.

Or two, or three – until you're pushed against the industrial fridge, his hands wrapped around your thighs as yours tangle in his hair. He doesn't care about the flour. He doesn't care that you'll both be here late to roll out the stupid dough, he doesn't care as long as you're with him.

He doesn't care about the time differences anymore. The kilometers of distance, the aches of missing you. He doesn't care, and he'd do it ten times over just to be worthy of you.

He doesn't care about how pathetic he might sound as he kisses down your neck, begging you to be his girlfriend, begging you to never, ever leave him again.

He doesn't care about all the painful moments he used to hang onto, because you are the best moment to ever capture.

He cares when you promise that you'll never leave him again, your lips soft against the shell of his ear. He cares when you say yes, you'll be his girlfriend. You'll be anything he wants, for as long as he wants it. So yeah, he'll live in this moment. He'll keep it, hold it, cherish it forever as more whispers float off your lips to one another. I love you.

#oh my god i had to retype this three times because tumblr kept crashing. luckily i anticipated this and had screenshots of my initial review #ANYWAY GUYS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#i love this fic forever omg. i sound like a stuck record but i’ll never be able to thank alta enough #they’re so everything to me 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#i will treasure this fic always #g; svt #svt; fluff #svt; angst #svt; wonwoo #a; haologram #svt; all-time favs

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