#i spent a month thinking about it and still call it an impulse decision

[ssmokyquartz]

after a month of consideration I made and *impulse* decision and bought the damn watch at 1 am

[guppybibi]

hai..um heres a wip bcus i realized i have like 10+ wips

Ever since Johnny made what seemed to be an impulsive decision of joining the military, you two have been the talk of the town. “He had the potential to be an artist.” and “He could've been an artist, what happened?” Those were a couple of the various questions asked of you. And if you were truly being honest..You weren't quite sure either. Not once in your years of being together has he ever hinted about signing up for the military.

Nonetheless you continued to support his decision, not doubting him even for a single second. Going long distance when you two have practically been together for who knows how long certainly wasn't the easiest but it looked like everything paid off when you learned that he was the youngest candidate to ever pass SAS selection through a letter, whatever that was..All you knew is that you were proud of him. You wondered why the hell they called him ‘Soap’ though..

Communicating through letters wasn't the worst thing in the world, in fact, it left you with more longing than ever before in your life. Well except the longing progressively watered down when letters from your Johnny stop coming through. Day by day it felt like arrows were being shot at your heart, and you knew for sure that it wasn't Cupid’s doing.

Soon you're hit with a large smack of reality when you receive a message from someone named ‘John Price’ about Johnny being killed on an important mission. You wouldn't say you were surprised but he promised. A promise that he would come back home to you, that the deadly silence in your home would be filled with his voice again. What a fucking liar he was.

The world isn't going to stop spinning just because someone got their heart broken from the news of a loved one dying and is mourning, especially if it's a mere girl from a quaint town. The world is unfair. It's always been like that, it probably won't change until a few centuries later either.

So, moving on seemed easy enough. It really couldn't be that hard right? You've lived half of your life without Johnny, you're sure you can spend the rest without him as well. This is just one challenge life handed you, you could most definitely handle it. Yup, no problem. Cleaning up Johnny’s belongings wasn't heartbreaking whatsoever, and seeing the last bouquet of flowers he sent you slowly wilt over the days was fun.

..Okay maybe it wasn't all that easy. Maybe admitting that you're struggling is fine, though that was just a baby’s first steps. In the end, progress is still progress so you decided that maybe your heart could handle finishing looking through Johnny’s things plus cleaning because you haven't been in that room for months now. Particularly the stuff in his office, well not really office per se, simply a random room where he stored random items for hobbies he says he’ll get to eventually. News flash, he didn't so now you're stuck with all of it.

You started off strong, dusting shelves and sweeping floors, until you opened a drawer full of art supplies and manuals that were basically brand new. Disgruntlement bubbles up within you, all of this wasted space and materials. Charity sounded real good right now but the sentiment they held was too much..Though the handbook about sculpting caught your eye.

It wasn't a hobby Johnny really focused on as it was time consuming and difficult despite his natural talent for art hence why he focused on drawing instead. It simply wasn't his thing, no problem with that. You spent countless hours browsing through the handbook, the guide eating your interest up. Hey, this could've been a great couple pastime for you two! Shame on him for not thinking about suggesting it to you! Although you were lucky enough that he stored the clay in such a way that it didn't dry up just yet, trying it out couldn't possibly hurt, right?

Tossing on an apron, you began sculpting away!..Well an attempt to at least, the piece continued to look..rough after a long while but practice makes perfect! Well as I said earlier, time doesn't stop for anyone, it keeps flying regardless of the fact it doesn't have a destination in mind. That's probably how you ended up practicing for days, so much so that your fellow townsfolk started getting worried sick and sent out one of the kind ladies to check up on you. And it was a lovely surprise!..Because they had a basket of goodies, who can say no to that?

“Oh dear, look at you! Everyone has been worried about you..” The lady says in relief, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face while she looks at the state of your clay-stained clothes. Thank goodness for aprons. “Well I hope you're doing alright after your husband's passing dear, we all made this goodie basket for you!” She chirps, extending the basket out to you. Your eyes immediately lock onto the fresh baked goods, looking like you have something to devour when she turns away..

“So you know, all of us are here to help, you aren't alone in this. I’m off, I need to pick some groceries up at the store. Bye-bye!” She waves, walking along the stone path that led away from your home. A quiet ‘thank you’ falls out of your lips, hoping that she’d heard your appreciation towards her caring but totally unnecessary gesture. You step back, placing the basket aside. The pastries could wait, not this. You do appear to be a natural at this, the sculptures you've made so far aren't even half bad for a beginner..It wouldn't be too hard to make Johnny right? I mean, you know his features by heart, you could make it with your eyes closed. Probably. It doesn’t hurt to try, you have enough clay too so there’s really nothing stopping you.

[the-starry-seas]

I was thinking about how exactly the Royal Squad came to join the family, because adopting five clone cadets isn't exactly an impulse decision, and like

Fox interrupting Breha's schedule and approaching her as his queen, not his wife, and asking her for several million credits. And she knows that something is up because he's calling her Your Majesty and using corporate-speak and swearing to find some way to repay her. And neither of them are idiots, she knows there's nothing he can do to bring back that kind of cash no matter what job he gets.

So Breha, obviously, has questions. Maybe a thought or two in the back of her mind that Fox might not know what a spam email is. Fox is generally very calm and even-tempered so she wants to know what's going on and why he needs so much money.

Fox says that Kamino is going to sell off everything they can to recoup losses from the latest batches of clones that they're no longer being paid for. He says most of them will be sold to slavers. He says the ones that can't be sold will be killed. He says none of them are more than five years old. He says there's ten thousand of them and he knows it will be expensive, but he could never live with himself if he didn't find a way to save at least some of them.

Breha is weeping long before he's finished. She's seen his scars, she's heard him wailing with terror from nightmares, she's felt him flinch when she touches him without warning. She loves him, but she would do anything to change his past. She will do anything to spare his little brothers from the life that can never stop haunting him. She thinks of darling Leia, two years old and safely at home with Bail doting on her every move, and is sick at the thought of any baby being treated in the way Fox just described.

She gives Fox carte blanche to bring home every last child. He falls to his knees and kisses her hands, thanking her in jumbled words and eyes shining with tears. She has no regrets for the financial havoc she's just caused herself and will never let him repay her.

Fox brings home ten thousand and five children. He snarls at anyone who comes near the youngest, holding the runt of the litter his every waking moment, his hands always gentle but his eyes glaring a lethal warning. The legion of social workers deployed to help find homes for the children, well, they unanimously decide that that's someone else's problem.

(There's a bright spot in all this hustle and drama. As it turns out, selling children into the Core worlds... it's just so incredibly unbelievably illegal. Breha gets back every credit that Fox spent, and a reward for alerting the police to what the Kaminoans are doing. Clones have human rights on Alderaan, after all.)

Eventually, after several months of several thousand people working twelve-hour days, all ten thousand clone cadets have been placed with loving families all across the planet. There's still welfare checks and such to be done, but for now, everyone is safe, happy, and in no more danger from the Kaminoans.

This leaves five.

Fox finally goes home to the palace, after being one of those people working twelve-hour shifts, and says, "I adopted some. I didn't mean to."

Breha says, "I heard you cold-cocked someone for suggesting an adopted family for them on their third day here."

Fox has to say he did, yes, and he didn't mean to do that either, and he already apologised several times.

Breha smiles and says that Bail's been excited to meet them for weeks now, and won't Fox come to dinner?

Fox does come to dinner, and brings his tubies, far too nervous at the idea of leaving them with anyone else, even Leia's nannies. It doesn't surprise him when Breha is the first to bring it up.

"Bail and I talked about it, and we understand if you want to be their only legal parent. We know there's complexities around their adoption. Whatever support you want from us, you'll have it."

Fox doesn't expect his eyes to blur with tears, or for them to feel like tears of joy.

"Leia's my daughter," he whispers, "and these are your sons."

"Helio is a family name on my side, you know," Bail mentions. He smiles at the tubie in Fox's lap, who giggles and waves back with his little hand clenched around a green bean. Then Bail's gaze meets Fox's, and the fatherly love already in his eyes... it takes Fox's breath away.

"My parents once said that they planned to name me Vidal if I was a boy," Breha adds, and takes a sip from her glass. "Though I suppose some of them might have names already?"

Fox shakes his head. There were so many other things to be busy with that he's just been calling them by the last two digits of their CT numbers.

"I wasn't sure what to call them," he admits, "but I was sure you would love them."

They beam at that, and Fox manages to smile back, despite how exhausted he is from the past few months. There's still so much waiting in the future, but for tonight, he can take the time to breathe.

He falls asleep quickly that night, with his head in Breha's lap and her hand in his hair, Kit already fast asleep and curled into his side, listening to Bail read a bedtime story to all six of their tubies.

[castiwls]

"stay close to the people who feel like sunlight"

being a skywalker and best friends with poe...

Your Luke’s kid and the youngest in your family. 

Growing up you were close with your dad as it was mainly just the two of you (your mum was never in the picture)

Like most of your family, you were powerful in the force and in turn, your dad made the decision to train you with your cousin.

You and Poe met when you were kids through a small gathering of such. Old rebellion members would try and meet every few months and it was the Dameron's time to host.

You and Poe were adjoined at the hip after.

You both seemed to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. You both had a love for flying and both wanted to one day help the galaxy if needed (It would be)

You were kinda opposites in terms of Poe being more impulsive while you were a bit better at thinking things out.

But that was just part of the reason why you both worked so well together.

You’d both stayed in contact mainly through comm calls while you were still with your dad.

Poe thought it was incredibly cool that his best friend was a Jedi.

When Ben fell to the dark side and destroyed the temple it was Poe who you ran to.

You told him everything about what had happened. You were shocked but not surprised that Ben had fallen.

“I Should have seen it coming, the signs were all there…now they're all dead.” Poe shook his head at your words. “No. His actions aren’t your fault. Their deaths are on him, not you.”

After losing Ben and your Dad you stayed with Poe and his dad for a while. Leia would visit from time to time while she was building the Resistance.

You helped gather support.

Eventually, you and Poe made the decision to go and fight in the war. You both took on a squadron.

You were pretty much an unstoppable force together (When you weren't arguing)

Fighting helped you to take your mind off your father's disappearance. 

Poe insisted on helping you in the search for your father.

He also stole your lightsaber a few times. 

“What are you doing?” You grinned slightly coming up behind him. Poe jumped swearing under his breath before quickly pushing the saber behind his back. “Nothing just looking for my jacket.”

You taught him a few simple tricks after that. He never shut up about it to your friends and how you had let him use your saber.

At times when the war was quieter, you would both go find somewhere quiet in the woods around the base and just sit and talk for hours.

You’d tell him about stories your dad told you. You’d also sometimes talk about stories you’d found out about your grandfather from the Clone Wars. (You spent a lot of time looking at old articles as a child)

Poe would tell you about his mom slowly.

You were each other's biggest supporters and would do anything for the other.

[supernovafics]

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 5.3k words

summary: in which during the summer of ‘84 steve visits family in chicago and meets you at a record store. the two of you immediately have a sort of pull towards one another and decide to start something that’s only meant to be a summer fling. as the end of summer nears, you realize that you may be in way too deep, and you take a step back from it all. however, maybe things can actually work out in the end for you two? or maybe not

warnings: explicit language, implied smut, some fluff, a lot of angst

author’s note: very much inspired by the song “end of beginning” by djo (the entire decide album fully makes me wanna sell my soul lmao) this started out as such a small idea and then somehow expanded to being over 5k words…. hope you enjoy! lol ((already working on a part two so don’t hate me for how this ends :0))

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It was pretty obvious that you were avoiding Steve like the plague. Phone calls to your home were left unanswered, messages from him that were relayed to you by your parents were left unresponded to, and when he showed up at your house looking for you, you told your parents to tell him that you weren’t home. 

However, if anyone were to call you out on your current behavior, you would deny it. 

Because technically, everything was completely fine between you and Steve.

There was no defining moment that made you start avoiding him. In fact, the day before you stopped talking to him, the two of you had spent the night watching a movie at the tiny old theater in the next town over. Well, actually, “watching” was an overstatement because you two mainly did other things that did not involve really paying attention to the two-hour movie. 

And although that entire night had been good, great even, you still spent the next three days avoiding Steve. It was an impulsive decision, but it was also one that you knew, or at least felt like, was the right one.  

You were starting to like him too much, and that concerned you because he was leaving Chicago in less than a week to go back to Indiana, which meant that what you and he had going on was going to be over. 

It was a fact that both of you were well aware of and had agreed upon at the start of the summer. 

However, as it got closer to that date, the thought of actually having to let him go and end things felt painful. Therefore, you decided that the “going cold turkey” idea was the best way to protect yourself. And although a part of you missed Steve, you forced yourself not to think about him. 

However, it turned out that not thinking about someone was much easier to do when they weren’t standing right in front of you, which Steve currently was. 

Now that you truly thought about it, you could see that it was only a matter of time before he showed up at your job. The record store was where you met him in the first place, and he practically knew your schedule as if it were his own since he had picked you up at the end of almost all of your shifts for the past month and a half. 

Your mind and heart felt conflicting things at this specific moment. As much as your heart wanted to see him, your mind knew that he was only making things harder. A tearful, heartbreaking goodbye was what you truly wanted to avoid. 

It was then that you wished that the store was much more crowded than it actually was because since there was barely anyone browsing around, it made it easy for Steve to walk up to the front counter, which you stood behind.

“Can we talk?” He asked, and instead of meeting his gaze, you busied yourself with grabbing the Hall and Oates vinyl that someone was going to buy, but ultimately decided not to, and moving to place it back on its rightful shelf. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” You ultimately told him, still evading his eyes and beginning to pick through the shelf even though there wasn’t anything to organize or fix on it. 

“I think there’s a lot to talk about, actually.”

You finally looked at him, and when you saw the look on his face that was a mix of confusion and sadness, for a moment, you finally felt bad for not talking to him and giving him no explanation as to why. 

“I have to do some stocking in the back,” You told Steve, knowing that he would be able to easily read between the lines of what you said. 

He knew exactly what that “code” meant, but with what had happened the last few days he wasn’t sure if he should follow you to the back room. The last time the two of you had been there was a week ago, and in Steve’s mind, things were much clearer then, than what they were like now. 

You placed a bell and sign on the counter that said, “Ring if you need help,” and then began heading to the back. When Steve didn’t start following you, you looked at him. “You coming?”

He gave you a small nod and finally moved, following you the few feet to the room that said Employees Only. He softly shut the door behind you both, and you flicked on the light switch that turned on the one light bulb hanging in the middle of the room that did almost nothing to provide the space with any light. 

Maybe coming back here wasn’t the best idea because being in the place that surprisingly held pretty fond memories of you and Steve made it feel way too easy to fall back into the dynamic you’d become so used to with him. It almost felt like second nature to slot your lips against his in the barely lit room, and you really wished you could allow yourself to do it. 

“Where have you been these past couple of days?” Steve asked, pulling you out of your conflicting thoughts.

A silence lingered for a brief moment as you thought of what to say in response to that. Ultimately, you settled with, “I’ve been… busy.”

“I leave in four days,” He said, reminding you of a fact you truly wanted to forget about. His face softened, and you had to pull your eyes away from his. “Is there any way you can be not busy?”

“The fact that you’re leaving in four days is exactly why I’ve been making myself busy,” You muttered, but Steve heard you clearly. 

A confused look crossed his face.“What do you mean?”

A small sigh fell from your lips, and it was funny because, at that moment, you wanted to tell him nothing but also everything circling your mind. “I– I know what we agreed on at the beginning of the summer, but it’s just… I don’t know. It just feels so hard now? In the beginning, it was so easy, and I honestly liked that we had an “expiration date” set for this, but it all just feels so different now. Because I can feel myself liking you way too much, and I simultaneously love and hate that because you’re the first person I’ve ever truly liked. But you’re leaving, so obviously, I can’t allow myself to like you too much because I would be an idiot if I did, and I would just end up hurting more than I already do right now. And the thought of having to say goodbye to you makes me actually wanna throw up.” 

You knew that you were rambling at that point and that you should stop because what you were saying probably wasn’t making a lot of sense. But Steve had always been insanely easy to talk to, so it was pretty understandable why you were word-vomiting all over him. “So yeah, that’s why I’ve been avoiding you like the plague for the past few days, and I would’ve continued if you hadn't shown up here.”

During the entirety of your ramble, your eyes were looking everywhere except for Steve, and when you finally let your gaze land on him, you noticed a certain look on his face. “Why the hell are you smiling right now?”

Your incredulous tone only somehow made Steve smile wider. “Because for the past three days, I thought you hated me for some reason. But now I know it’s the exact opposite.”

“Honestly, I wish I hated you,” You told him. The statement was mostly a lie. “It would make things so much easier for me.”

“Well, I’m really glad you don’t,” He said softly and moved a bit closer to you, placing his hands on either side of your waist. 

You almost leaned into his touch, as you’d done what felt like a million times before, but you refrained from doing so and instead backed up a bit. “Steve…”

You could feel yourself slowly falling back down that hole of wanting him, and although it was a path that could only lead to heartbreak, your motivation to push him away and never talk to him again was declining. 

Still, you managed to find your voice at that moment. “You should go.”

Steve disregarded your words because he could hear how much you didn’t mean them and instead asked a question of his own. “Am I really the first person you ever really liked?”

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, and you suddenly felt annoyed by all of your previous honesty. But you also wanted to roll your eyes at the question because Steve knew the answer; he knew pretty much everything about you. “You know how I was before we started this.”

For most of your life, you had always been completely content with being alone romantically and having only a handful of friends you loved and would die for. There was never anyone that made you want to step out of the bubble you created for yourself. Somehow Steve was the exception. 

However, the immediate pull you felt toward him wasn’t enough to change you. Instead, it was your best friend Vanessa, who also worked at the record store, that noticed how you were around Steve and gave you the much-needed nudge to actually attempt to pursue something with him. Because just the idea of you having feelings for him had felt utterly foreign to you. 

“You randomly came into the picture and changed everything for me. And I think I’ll probably always be grateful for that,” You said after a brief stretch of silence. “But, I can’t allow myself to see you again after we leave this room. It’s too fucking hard for me.”

In the beginning, you convinced yourself that a situation like this couldn’t lead to heartbreak because of the fact that the ending was set. However, now you thought that maybe that made things worse because everything you felt for Steve was still right there, and it also wasn’t gonna go away any time soon. 

“I don’t wanna end things.” 

“Me neither, but you leave in four—”

“I don’t want this to be over,” He interrupted you. “I want to make it work with us when I go back.” 

You were rendered speechless for a brief moment at his words. Too many things started running through your mind, and although your immediate thought was to let yourself smile at his statement, there was a question that you knew you needed to ask. “What about Nancy?” 

Her name felt foreign on your lips because, for the entire summer, you kept her pushed to the back of your mind. 

Steve told you about her, and the fact that they were on a break for the summer, once you and he grew closer, which was something that happened insanely fast. And that was where the arrangement between you two started. 

Nancy was a big reason why you now saw the “summer fling” you agreed on with Steve as doomed from the start. 

The life Steve was living with you while he was in Chicago for the summer wasn’t his real life. He was always, always going to go back to Indiana and pick things up right where he and his girlfriend had left them off.

That is what you kept telling yourself, and that upsetting thought only aided in your need to avoid him for his last week in Chicago. Maybe that assumption was wrong, though. 

“I’ve barely thought about her the entire summer,” Steve said, and you could hear the honesty dripping from his words. “And when I have, it’s only been about how to end things for good with her because I only want to be with you.” 

His words contradicted everything you convinced yourself of, and you didn’t know how to respond to that. Your mind was running in a million different directions, allowing no coherent sentences to form. The only thing you could say at that moment was, “Oh?”

“Yes, and I know that we’ll be able to make this work,” Steve began explaining, and you forced your mind to shut off for a moment and solely listen to him. “We’ll both be seniors, so our schedules with school won’t be too bad, and we probably won’t have a shit ton of classes. Also, the drive is only three hours, which will be like five for you to do since you’re a bad driver, but that’s still not too crazy. I’ll happily drive up here most weekends. And then there are the holidays too.”

For the first time since the conversation with Steve started, you smiled. Not at the bad driving comment; in fact, you gave him a light shove for saying that. But, it was endearing hearing how certain he was of the fact that the two of you could actually make things work, even though you’d be in two different states.

“You’ve been thinking about this a lot, huh?” You asked, a smile still planted on your face as you shifted closer to him and let your arms circle loosely around his neck. 

His hands found their rightful place on your waist and squeezed lightly. “Yes, and I wanted to say it that night at the movies, but you just wanted to make out with me the entire time, so it was hard to get a serious word out.” 

You could hear the jokiness in his tone, but you still rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut up. You were the one that initiated it right when the lights went low, and the previews started.”

“And then you just couldn’t get enough of me, baby,” He said before fully closing the space between you two and slotting his lips against yours. 

You had wanted to laugh at his previous words or give your own sarcastic comment back, but you let all of that melt away, and instead, you simply kissed him back; something that had been done many times in that back room. 

One of Steve’s hands was cupping your cheek while the other slipped under the t-shirt you were wearing, and feeling his cool hand against your warm skin sent a slight shiver down your spine. Your hands found a home in his hair, and you loved hearing the low groan erupt from his throat when you gave it a light tug. 

The two of you were so lost in the kiss and making up for the time lost since you hadn’t seen each other in days, that neither of you heard the door open or saw Vanessa open it.  

“Y/N, what do–” The rest of her question stopped short when she saw the two of you. She had known that you had been avoiding Steve for the past few days but refrained from calling you out. However, at that moment, she gave you a look that said, “You better explain everything when we’re alone,” and you gave her a small nod before shutting your eyes in embarrassment. Surprisingly, in the many times you’d brought Steve back there, something like this had never happened before. “Oh, um, sorry to interrupt… this. As you were.”

The door softly clicked shut, and when Steve leaned in to kiss you again, you immediately pulled back, detaching yourself from him and letting your hands fall limp at your sides. Your body was on fire at that moment, but you refrained from doing anything about it.

“Nope. No more of this right now,” You told him. The embarrassment from the situation had yet to wear off and allow you to continue kissing him, even though you had been thoroughly enjoying it. “I’ll see you tonight, though?”

“You’re not gonna start avoiding me again?” Steve asked, and you knew he was mostly kidding, but you could also hear a tad bit of seriousness behind his words, which made sense to you. However, things were completely different now. You actually surprisingly felt hopeful about what was to come instead of dreading the next four days before he left. 

You looked up at him and leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Never.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It wasn’t surprising that you were the first one to wake up. For some reason, your body would never allow you to sleep too far past nine o’clock, no matter what you’d done the night before. 

You carefully detangled yourself from Steve’s warm body, not wanting him to wake up just yet, and headed to your bathroom. Once you finished brushing your teeth and showering, you slipped the grey t-shirt that Steve had shown up in last night back on your body because you loved how it looked and felt on you. 

When you walked back into your room, you mentally saved the image of Steve in your bed. It wasn’t the first time you’d snuck him into your room, but it would be the last for a while. And you were glad that your parents were gone for the weekend at some business conference so that you didn’t even have to sneak him in this last time. 

Steve looked peaceful, and you didn’t want to have to wake him, but it was his last day in Chicago, and you wanted to make every hour count before he left that night. 

You slipped back into the bed and faced him on his side. You ran a hand through his hair and pressed soft kisses on both of his cheeks, his nose, and then his forehead before finally landing on his lips. 

He was surprisingly quick to kiss you back, and you smiled, which allowed Steve to deepen the kiss further before he abruptly pulled back. “Mm, minty.”

“I wish I could say the same for you,” You joked, and he immediately poked your side, which made you laugh. You leaned in to kiss him again to show him that you really didn’t care about his morning breath.

Steve’s hand trailed under your, his, t-shirt and began rubbing your bare side in small circles. You sighed contently into the kiss at the feeling of his warm touch, and you wanted to move even closer to him, but you had to force yourself to pull away before things moved further, as they had last night.

You pushed some of his hair away from his eyes, and then your hand lingered on his cheek. “You leave tonight.”

He gave you a small nod. “Yeah.”

“So, we need to get up now,” You told him. “I have a lot of things I wanna do with you today.”

Steve let out a soft groan before turning his head a bit so that he could kiss the inside of your palm. “Why can’t we just do more of this?”

“Because I want to be disgustingly cheesy and sentimental with you today and just drive around and go to a bunch of the places we’d always go to this summer.”

He smiled at your words. “You’re never cheesy and sentimental.”

“You bring out this cute side of me, Harrington,” You told him and pressed a quick kiss to his nose. “Also, I’m gonna force you to finally try deep dish from my favorite place.” 

“You’re evil,” He said before finally sitting up in the bed. His gaze suddenly shifted away from you and instead focused downward as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “But, um, last night… Last night was good, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his sudden shyness. “Yes, very good.”

During that summer, you’d done everything else with him, so last night was kind of the final piece of the puzzle. It was honestly a bit surprising that it'd taken this long. And although you never necessarily cared too much about your virginity and losing it, you were glad that your first time had at least been with someone that you truly cared a lot about, and you knew he felt the same way toward you. 

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure,” Steve said with a nod as he continued to expertly avoid eye contact with you. “Because I know we’ve done a lot of stuff, but I just wanted to make sure that last night was good and everything, y’know? And that it was great for you and how you wanted it to be for your first time and–”

You stopped his rambling by pressing your lips against his. “I know. Everything was great, don’t stress. And I’d happily do it again with you right now if you weren’t leaving tonight and there wasn’t a bunch of other stuff I wanted to do with you today.”

He smiled at that and muttered out a soft “Okay,” before giving you a kiss on the cheek and getting out of bed to head to your bathroom. 

You slipped on a pair of dark denim jeans and your old pair of black Converses. When Steve exited the bathroom, you silently admired him and the fact that he was only currently in his boxers, and you resisted the urge to go up and wrap your arms around him and kiss him for what felt like the thousandth time that morning. 

“As great as you look in my t-shirt, I need it back,” He told you as he pulled on his jeans. 

You were quick to shake your head. “Nope, it’s mine now. But…” You walked over to your dresser and started rummaging through the second drawer until you found the band tee you were looking for. The shirt was pretty oversized on you, so you knew that it would more than likely fit Steve just fine. “You can borrow this.”

Steve slipped the shirt over his head. “This is also mine now. Although I do feel like a fraud since I’ve never listened to the band before.”

“If anyone asks your favorite song from them, just say, ‘Anything from their first album. I can’t decide which one,’” You said as you moved toward him, now allowing yourself to wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Got it,” He nodded and smiled as his arms circled around your waist. 

You pressed your lips against his, giving him a quick peck, before finally forcing the two of you to leave your house. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Although it was one of those days that you knew you’d remember forever, it saddened you how quickly it all flew by. 

From going back to the park where you and Steve played basketball during one of your first few hangouts with each other (and you surprisingly beat him, but you knew that he let you win) to laughing at how much he hated the deep dish pizza you finally convinced him to try. And then next thing you both knew, it was night, and you were sitting in the driveway of the house he and his family had been staying at for the summer. 

A comfortable silence that felt sad, at least on your end, lingered in the car as music softly played, and Steve held your hand in his lap and traced mindless circles on your palm. 

When he looked over at you, he intertwined your hand with his and pulled it up to his lips to kiss it. “Don’t have that look. Remember, this is only the end of the beginning. I know I’m leaving now, but we’ll have so much more time together. Once I’m back in Indiana, we’ll figure out the best time for us to see each other again, okay? You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You smiled and laughed at his last statement before leaning over the center console and pressing your lips against his. The position was entirely uncomfortable, but at that moment, you didn’t care.

“I have something for you,” You told him when you pulled away and then reached into the backseat and grabbed the brown paper bag that you had been looking for, which was folded at the top to hide the contents inside. It was upsettingly the only thing in your house that could double as a last minute gift bag. 

Steve eyed the paper bag for a moment before his eyes lifted to yours. “You packed me lunch?”

“Shut up, no,” You said with a small laugh. “Just open it.” 

He unfolded the top of the bag and looked inside. His gaze met yours again for a brief moment before he pulled out the five cassette tapes that were inside the bag. “No, these are all your favorites.”

You could only smile at him. “Yes, I know and I’m not giving them to you, just letting you borrow them for the time being until I see you again. Mainly because you told me you never listened to these albums before, and I have a feeling you’ll like most of them. And when you do listen to them, you’ll think about me, which is a small plus.”

He placed the tapes back in the bag and then leaned in to kiss your cheek. “I’ll always be thinking about you. Also, I now feel like an idiot because I didn’t get you anything.”

“I don’t care. This was a last minute thing I thought of anyway,” You said with a small shrug. “But, I’m now expecting a really big gift when you come back.” You kissed his lips. “And I’m only slightly kidding.”

He laughed, and you smiled, wishing that you had a camera to take a picture of him and the two of you at that moment. It was that right time when the sun was starting to set and made everything look just perfect. You desperately wanted to have so many more perfect moments like that one with Steve, and the only thing that could curb your sadness at that moment was remembering the fact that, eventually, you would. 

You glanced at the time it said on the dashboard. “You should go before I get sad again, and I want this goodbye to end as happily as it can.”

Steve nodded and then leaned in to slot his lips against yours one more time. “See you soon.”

“See you soon,” You nodded back and watched as he opened the car door, grabbed the paper bag, and stepped out. “Wait.” 

You quickly got out on your side and rushed over to where he was now standing by the shut passenger side door, staring at you curiously. You wrapped your arms around him almost immediately, and Steve didn’t hesitate to hug you back and hold you tight against him. 

No words were said, mainly because no words needed to be said as you simply held each other and let the tender action speak for itself. Your eyes screwed shut, and you forced yourself not to cry because even though it felt like it, you knew that it wasn’t goodbye forever. 

You pushed up on your toes and kissed him for what you knew would be the final time for a while. It was a slow kiss that was long and drawn out, and you would’ve kept it going forever if it wasn’t for you needing to catch your breath after about a minute. 

“Okay, I just needed to do that real quick,” You told him, still pretty breathless.

“I’m really glad you did,” Steve said softly before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You returned to your car and watched as he gave you a wave and smile and then walked inside the house. You sat idly for a moment, simply looking at the red door he just stepped into and closed behind him, before forcing yourself to drive away. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Hours later, you were sat on the couch in your living room, mindlessly scrolling through television channels, unable to settle on anything, when you heard the phone ring. You almost didn’t answer because you weren’t necessarily in the mood to, but you decided against it when you realized it was probably your parents.  

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Steve said, and you could hear the smile in his tone. “We’re stopped at a gas station right now, and I just wanted to hear your voice real quick.”

“That’s very disgustingly cheesy and sentimental of you,” You told him, letting a smile take over your features. 

“You bring out this cute side of me, Y/L/N,” He said, and you laughed a bit. “Okay, I gotta go, my mom’s giving me a look. I’ll call you when I’m home.”

And when the phone rang a few hours later, around two in the morning, you were smiling as you answered it on only the second ring. You talked for over an hour about nothing but also everything, and the only thing that made either of you want to hang up was the fact that you both were insanely tired and could barely keep your eyes open. 

You both said your goodbyes, which lingered longer than expected because neither of you truly wanted to hang up. And finally, things ended with Steve saying, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

That “tomorrow” call never came, and you let a week pass before you allowed yourself to get worried and nervous. It didn’t take long for you to want to start overthinking things, but you tried your hardest to refrain from doing so. However, you failed miserably. 

You called his house on the ninth day, and when the call connected, you immediately breathed out a sigh of relief. However, when a male voice that wasn’t Steve’s, and instead it was his dad’s, said, “Hello?” your immediate relief was wiped away. 

“Hi, is Steve home?” You asked. You were sat cross-legged on your bed and nervously playing with the phone cord. After a week of radio silence, you were essentially questioning everything that you had just felt so certain and sure of. Even though, when it came to Steve, you had almost never been nervous, right then, you truly couldn’t help it. 

“No, he’s out right now,” His dad answered, and you were about to simply say “Thanks” and then hang up, but you could hear the phone being pulled away a bit as if he was talking to someone else but still wanting to keep you on the line. “He’s out with Nancy, right? Was it this? Their third date this week?”

You assumed he was talking to his wife, Steve’s mom, and you couldn’t hear her response to his questions, but you knew it didn’t matter; you had heard everything you needed to, which was actually more than enough. You hung up without saying anything else, mainly because words couldn’t form in your throat right then. 

Although you’d never gotten in a fight with anyone, what you were feeling in that moment felt equivalent to a punch in the gut. You truly wanted to pretend that none of this was happening while simultaneously screaming and crying.

However, you didn’t do any of that because the only thing circling your mind right then was one of Steve’s final words to you. “Remember, this is only the end of the beginning.”

Turned out he was wrong and a liar; more so the second one. It wasn’t the end of the beginning for the two of you. Apparently, it was only just the end. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

(((part two here!)))

[averseunhinged]

wip wednesday i made it wooooooo

this is the only even remotely coherent section of the all human actors au that has been making me cry tears of blood. yes, there is still a bracket. no, i didn't even try to figure it out. i am TIRED.

it's mildly raunchy crack. like pg-13, probs? idk.

In the car on the way home, Klaus made an ill-considered midnight call to his sister, given that Rebekah was three hours ahead in New York City, where she’d been shooting a sit-com about struggling models for the past month. She probably would have been less alright with it if Klaus hadn’t spent the whole call whining about how he’d met the girl he was going to marry, but she thought he was a loser. He woke up the next afternoon to cottonmouth, a deeper sense of foreboding than usual, and about fifty text messages, first from Rebekah, and then from the group chat with the rest of his siblings, deservedly ripping the shit out of Klaus.

The third time he met Caroline was at an industry do, this time much less a party than a press event. [SUPER POPULAR FILM FRANCHISE] hadn’t come out yet, but his Times profile had, which was simultaneously the most horrifying portrait and the most accurate. He’d been giving a lot of thought to the person he was versus the person he wanted to be, and it was all weighing on him. So, when he saw Caroline, his first impulse probably shouldn’t have been that this was his chance. If he’d been thinking more clearly, he probably would have realized that he wasn’t in the best headspace.

“Bekah,” he breathed to his sister, because of course Rebekah was there. Rebekah had been witness to every crushing defeat of Klaus’s life. “She’s here.”

And because Rebekah was a bloodhound for Klaus’s humiliation, she immediately picked up what Klaus was putting down. “Who? The girl you’re going to marry? Where?”

Klaus surreptitiously pointed out where Caroline was standing in a cluster with a few other women, but he was already on the move by the time Rebekah was hissing, “Oh, fuck! Wait, Nik. Goddammit.”

And the thing was, Klaus was a bit foolish. He knew this. He wasn’t unintelligent, but outside of his career, he’d never been known for making well-reasoned decisions. He was impulsive, and while he’d shaken off much of the resentment and aimless rage of his late teens and early twenties, his temper still fueled his choices at times. He wanted to change, was actively trying with some measure of success, but it was an ongoing process. He was all the way across the room before he realized Caroline was surrounded by a veritable coven of women he didn’t want to attempt to flirt in front of. One of the Petrova quadruplets—either Amara or Elena, given that he knew Katerina and knew Tatia—Bonnie-fucking-Bennett, who was flawlessly styled and probably still had no idea who he was, and Hayley Marshall, who had spent years watching Klaus try to make removing his shirt while wearing elf ear prosthetics sexy for MTV and getting into on-set fistfights with Kai Parker for being a smug little fuck who couldn’t be bothered to show up for his call times. So, Klaus was stuck without any chance of a classy retreat.

Regardless, he managed to collect a cheek kiss from Hayley, finally introduced himself to Bonnie, did the awkward yes, our siblings are fucking nod with confirmed-to-be-Elena, and greeted Caroline for a socially appropriate amount of time. It broke down when he had to make a conscious effort not to focus the entirety of his attention on her, with middling success, if Rebekah’s almost silent snickering and Hayley’s bemusement were anything to go by. But after a few minutes, he was, if not relaxed, at least doing a reasonable facsimile of charming and was a bit blindsided when Lorenzo St. John seemed to materialize out of nowhere to press a glass of white wine into Caroline’s hand and wrap a proprietary arm around her waist. Klaus had never met him before, though being in separate wings of the same franchise allowed for a very few degrees of separation, but Klaus couldn’t blame the man when he spent the entirety of their introduction and subsequent conversation watching Caroline with a cross between adoration and hunger so intense that Klaus felt uncomfortable witnessing it.

Eventually, Elena was pulled away by a director with more industry pull than was necessarily warranted. Hayley excused herself to hit the bar again, and Klaus knew her well enough to interpret her shrug and half-smile as better luck next time, pal. Finally, he made up a barely sensical excuse about not having mingled enough and dragged Rebekah away, who parted from Caroline with a hug and farewell that spoke of more familiarity than he’d been aware of.

“Well,” Rebekah said, like the unsympathetic twat she was, “I do believe she’s the girl he’s going to marry, too.”

Klaus pointed a finger at Rebekah, as disgruntled as ever that his younger sister had inherited both their mother’s sweet, lovely face and her innate, bloody-minded sadism. Klaus might have been taller and bulkier, but the extra mercilessness made the difference for Rebekah whenever they’d brawled over snacks, or the remote, or one of her useless, cockwomble boyfriends.

“You knew!” he hissed. “You knew I was going to make a fool out of myself!”

“Hey, there’s no stopping you when you’re on a mission to embarrass yourself. It’s one of your more endearing qualities. And you never said who she was.” Rebekah shrugged. “She’s on my show. Just started filming last month. I don’t know her very well, but I knew she had a boyfriend doing some off-Broadway, avant-garde bullshit with those Augustine lunatics.”

Klaus sighed and slumped a little bit. Rebekah patted him on the shoulder in their family’s typical manner of reluctant, suspicious affection and wandered off to find Stefan, who tended to spend these things hiding behind a pillar, or a large plant, or on one memorable occasion, a standee of himself, and drinking with the quiet desperation of an introvert who might have to talk to people he didn’t know.

The last Klaus saw of Caroline, Enzo was nuzzled into her temple, saying something for only her to hear. Her head was thrown back, laughing, and she looked like everything Klaus had ever wanted.

(But was terrified he’d never find.)

Life went on. Klaus’s world changed dramatically when [SUPER POPULAR FRANCHISE MOVIE] was a hit on an unexpected scale. The box office returns were obscene, and because Klaus got in on the ground floor and his agent was great at her job, he suddenly had more money, and far more fame, than he knew what to do with. But with that came the freedom to do the projects he really wanted to do. Really cared about. So, he was busy. And he was still trying to be better, be the person he wanted to be, not the person it was easy to be.

But he also had too many first dates and hardly any second ones, before he and Aurora decided to get back together for the fourth time. Predictably, it blew up in a final, spectacular way when Klaus had to spend an obscene amount of time in transit, traveling from his shooting location in Hungary to hers in Vancouver and back, just to find out she was fucking around on him again. The thing about Aurora was that she never overtly cheated, because there was always a nebulousness about where he fit into her life that manifested in her casually dating other men without calling it dating. It had been the perfect arrangement for him when he was twenty-three and more cheekbones than brains, but that wasn’t who Klaus wanted to be anymore.

He tried to take a step back after that, but the next time he was in L.A., he slept with a stylist he’d worked with a few times before. Then, he went back to London for his thirtieth birthday, got ratarsed on celebratory Nebbiolo with his best mate from RADA, and had an accidental threesome with Lucien and his fiancé. This resulted in a hungover call to Freya the next morning that was an unflattering shade of gay panic to his only queer sibling—aside from Henrik, who didn’t deserve to be subjected to Klaus’s post-coital regrets—over being a newly thirty-year-old celebrity who tried butt stuff for the first time and didn’t hate it. Freya was a good enough sister that she didn’t hold it against Klaus, but also enough his sibling that she nearly choked to death on her tea, laughing, and crisply informed him that even primarily straight men had prostates.

So, it’s not like he was pining. He wasn’t. But there was a certain level of wistfulness on the rare occasion when he did think of Caroline, which he tried not to do very often, given that he was certain the next time he heard anything about her, it would be because she was engaged to an increasingly renowned British actor with what Klaus could only hope would someday be a hairline that receded more than his own.

(Except it wasn't.)

[void-cloud]

So I've been ignoring my Mom all year. Which is more than usual.

See, last year I made it a point to at least call for birthdays and meet up for food every couple months or so. But this year it's been full silence from my side since what happened in January. And with the usually obligatory major holiday meetup looming in front of me, I've been trying to figure out why.

Well, turns out: I hate her.

I know this is mental health tumblr, so this isn't really a very unique statement, but I'm happy to be part of this club now x)

I knew I didn't like her. And my entire family is united in knowing that she isn't easy to deal with. But for all this time I have maintained that I don't hate her for what happened during my childhood. Yeah sure the fallout is *vaguely motions to my entire psych rep sheet* but it's not like she is the only one who had a hand in giving me abandonement issues. Both my sisters and Dad equally fucked off and left me behind in one way or another.

And yet, I don't hold the same animosity with them the way I do with her. I can have zero contact with Sis 2 for a year and we'll get together and talk and vibe with zero problems. Sis 1 apologizing to me for leaving at that time is a memory I hold dear and while I have way more conflicting feelings about my Dad, his unwavering support in the last couple years has made up for a lot of what happened earlier.

While nothing is truly resolved (and likely won't ever be at this point cause tbh I have other priorities), they all made changes and evolved and we found ways to support each other to whatever capacity possible.

Meanwhile, the person who actually raised me has just gotten worse over the years. Getting more and more wrapped up in her own bitterness and jealousy and how she has to have it the worst and everyones problems are somehow her fault and *sighs*

She yearns for connection and yet everytime something is not about her or something that interests her then it will get dismissed and the topic changed. When I got a (second) tattoo years ago, her first reaction was to say: "No stop doing that." Whenever I tried to share my interests with her growing up, she would dismiss it cause she didn't care about the thing. And then be hurt by us not having anything to talk about. I have told her multiple times that her throwing out my cool nightlamp sucked and I still think about that sometimes and so far she has apologized twice for hiding a book that had pictures she didn't approve of. Oh no, H.R.Giger is gonna...idk, I honestly never noticed that book being gone cause it was an impulse buy.

Like, there are actually many things that I can rationalize away if it was just that. Her being weird about me being queer sucked, but she also never stopped me from dating same gender or otherwise express myself. Dropping me with "family" while they fought out the divorce is a good chunk of why I am as fucked as I am but also....I 100% understand that it wasn't done with any malice. From her point of view it was the best thing she could do and welp, nobody connected the dots and did some damage control afterwards. Which is also on the rest of the family tbh

The thing is that she just never stopped being that way. Unwilling to hear that her decisions weren't good and blaming people who bring these things up for attacking her and "Well ok all is just my fault! Are you happy now??! ;_;"

A lot of things broke in me in January.

My patience for her shit was one of those.

While writing this New Years passed and I did not talk to her. Instead I spent a couple days with the rest of the family on vacation.

She has tried calling me a couple times but I just stare at the phone and move on with the day.

Idk, part of me would be elated to just go fully no contact for longer, but another wants to give her...something? A notion of why this is happening I guess. Just can't find it fully in me to formulate it yet

I'm ready to say I hate her, but I'm not ready to fully abandon her

[th-vanity]

(   laura harrier.  cis woman. she/her.   )   ⸺   🦬   greetings, buffalos ! walking around campus, sporting her untrustworthy smirk we’ve spotted VANITY RYMES, a thirty year old who contributes to our thriving community as an armorer. according to our intel, they’ve been around the sanctuary for three years and what we know about her, aside from the fact that they DON'T agree with the decision to close the gates, is that she aspires to become the gunsmith but is not considered responsible enough to do so; she grew up in a small town in Alabama, and learnt how to hunt with her dad and older brothers from a young age ; she’s an adrenaline junkie and doesn’t mind putting her life at risk . doesn’t that make them fantastic ? we think it does, and that’s why we appreciate her so much, grateful for what they give to our community.

name: Vanity Rymes nicknames: Vee, Rymes age: thirty gender: cis woman sexuality: bisexual occupation: armorer + traits: skilled, good-humored, resilient - traits: unreliable, impulsive, uncommitted aesthetic: the smell of gunpowder, leaning the chair back almost to the point of falling, the smile of someone who knows something you don’t, cheap wine in an unmarked bottle, military green, undone worksheets.

I.

Vanity was the last child of Ernest Rymes, the only daughter out of the three he had. As a child, she liked toy cars, watching t.v. and causing mayhem. The teachers said that she was smart enough, but her grades would’ve greatly improved had she not spent her whole time at school causing trouble. Most of them saw in her behavior a call for attention; her mother appeared once every few months, without any real explanation of where she had been nor how long she would stay, and her father was often gone too, since he was a merchant that had to travel a lot. 

For the most part, Vanity was left at the care of her older brothers (who weren’t that much older nor responsable than her), or with his grandfather at his armory shop. Her brothers didn’t spent a lot of time with her, but they provided the basics: made sure she ate and that she was at the house to sleep at night. And while her grandfather could be sometimes cold and distant, he cared for her in a way that few other adults did. He passed away when she was sixteen.

Wyatt, the middle sibling, took possession of the armory. Vanity didn’t mind; even if she was the one who spent most time with her grandfather, she had no interest in working. And this didn’t change once she graduated. 

Once she got her diploma - a miracle, according to the principal, due to how many classes she skipped just to smoke at the parking lot -, there were few useful activities she was interested in doing. For the most part, she did small jobs, enough to buy chips and a can of coke from now and then, and sometimes, when her brother insisted enough, covered a shift at the armory. 

II.

Things changed overnight in the town when the pandemic hit. As soon as the first infected person arrived, it was over for them; it spread like a wildfire. Vanity only got out of there alive because Wyatt, who was at the house while she covered a shift at the shop, called to let her know what was going on. The call ended by a shout of panic and the distant sound of growling in the background. Vanity closed the armory shop, used a couple hours to get ready, and left with as much ammunition as she could carry. Perhaps it would’ve been smarter to wait there; after all, the doors and windows were covered with metal bars. Vanity had never been good at sitting put, though. 

She never found her older brother, nor is she sure if he’s still alive. He was out of town when the epidemic hit, so she can only hope.

She went solo for a while, until a hostile encounter with another group of survivors made her realize her chances of living multiplied if she wasn’t alone.She found a group with whom she lived for a couple of years, led by an ex-militar with whom she started a romantic relationship. However, a miscalculation of threat while they were traveling caused everyone to die at the hand of the infected while Vanity was out scouting, rendering her the only survivor. 

Still believing that there was strength in numbers, but not wanting to rush into any group in order to make sure they were people whom she wouldn’t mind living with first, she spent a couple months on her own, avoiding hoards of infected and investigating group of survivors she run into, until finally, she decided that the University of Colorado had what she was looking for. 

III.

She likes living on campus enough. It’s a safe space, she has her needs covered, she found a job she can do without causing much of a fuss. The skills and experience she possesses are enough to be the gunsmith, but the fact that she sometimes skips work and that she’s known for not paying enough attention makes it difficult for her to secure that promotion. However, she’s no longer than the eighteen year old kid she was when the epidemic first hit - over the years she learnt how to be slightly more responsible, meaning she might fight for the position a little harder in the future. 

Vanity is against the rule of not letting new people in only because she finds newcomers exciting; since she’s not a scout, that’s the only way she has to find out what’s going on on the outside. Her worst enemy is boredom, and she’s willing to sacrifice safety in order to avoid it; after all, they won the first coup, didn’t they? They can win another one. 

[wholemountain]

33 For 33.

First of all, I probably haven’t written a list like this since MySpace was still popular….But I had some time to kill today so here we go.

I’m the eldest child. I have both a younger sister and a younger brother.

I was born in Guam. My dad was in the military so we moved around quite a bit when I was a kid.

Sharks absolutely terrify me. I’ve had nightmares about them for years and have an app on my phone that tracks them.

I went through a phase where I was pretty into WWE because I love the Bella Twins. I spent my 28th birthday at SummerSlam but my interest in it faded after the twins retired.

I have a habit of romanticizing many things in life while still being overly realistic when it comes to others.

I’m not religious by any means but I am spiritual.

Because I struggle with my own impulsivity, I try not to make permanent decisions based on temporary emotions.

I don’t particularly like watching sports on TV nor do I have any favorite teams, but I do enjoy the atmosphere of watching them in person.

I’m left-handed.

I got my dog from a friend who wasn’t quite ready for the responsibility. After living in multiple different homes for the few first months of her life, I like to think she was meant to find her way to me.

I have a Bachelor’s Degree in History but if I could go back and do it over I would have majored in something more practical.

I had braces on my top teeth for a short period of time in high school and still wear my retainer most nights. Furthermore, I enjoy going to the dentist and having my teeth cleaned.

I wanted to be like Buffy The Vampire Slayer when I was kid. I idolized strong, female protagonists.

I’m not materialistic at all but I am sentimental when it comes to certain things.

I prefer real books but download many to my phone because it’s more convenient. I love to read.

I cope with difficult situations by cracking (sometimes inappropriate) jokes in relation to whatever it is I’m going through. I try to deal with things quickly; I’m not a wallower.

I like the smell of gasoline.

Trash Reality TV is my guilty pleasure.

I do not enjoy getting my hair or nails done because I have a strong dislike for small talk and have a hard time sitting still for that long. It’s a chore for me.

To piggyback off of my last statement, I skipped both my high school and college graduations because I didn’t care to sit through the ceremonies.

It eats me up inside to think I’ve hurt someone’s feelings, whether I meant to in the moment or not.

I’ve had digestive issues since I was a teenager….but I guess a good portion of the country does now too. I love to eat regardless.

I’ll answer to Ber, Burger, Burg, Wholemountain, and a few other pet names I’ve acquired over the years. But my family just calls me Amber Babe.

I believe music is medicine.

I watch way too much true crime. I’m both fascinated and horrified by murder psychology.

In my 30s, a phrase that I’ve learned to both love and live by is that the word “no” is a complete sentence.

If I could have any superpower, it’d probably be time travel because I’d love to experience different periods in history.

Although I’m typically extroverted by nature, I really do value having time to myself. I need it in order to function properly.

As a teenager, I took off to New York in the middle of the night with my then boyfriend and younger sister in tow without telling my parents. That’s too long of a story to get into but I only made it as far as New Jersey before I had to turn back around.

On that same note, in my 20s I had lunch at a rest stop with a bunch of truckers I’d just met on my way home from a solo trip to Nashville. (Disclaimer: I am not promoting this type of reckless behavior.)

I do my best thinking in the car. If I’ve got something I need to sort out, I take a drive.

I often say that I found myself in a cheap box of Walmart hair dye. My siblings are still blonde, but I’ve been dying my hair darker for years.

In today’s world, it’s become trendy to share every little piece of your daily life on social media. I feel that my privacy is something that I’m placing value in more and more.

It was definitely more difficult than I anticipated to come up with 33 random things about myself on the spot but I managed. The End.

— Amber Lyn. 2023.

[diary-of-someone-invisible]

27th January 11:18am

I am now wondering if moving countries was a terrible decision. I haven't slept in 24 hours so bear with me. I know I'm romanticizing my old life too much. I know it was a different kind of hell but it was also a protected hell. I know I fundamentally changed as a person on 22nd September '22. The first time I had a psychedelic. I have been a different person ever since and can't really say for better or worse. To be honest, it feels like worse. It feels like the evil part of me just took over. I lost all my impulse control. I have been getting into riskier situations. I have been encouraging myself to get worse. I will not claim that I don't like it. I certainly love it. It has been everything I've dreamt of. But my dreams were formed in wrong situation. These dreams were formed when I needed a strong escape mechanism. I don't think I need them anymore. I'm in a headspace where I am very prone to impulsively delete myself. It takes a lot in me to stay because I know people do care about me and my death would affect people. I am fighting really hard to stay here. At moments where I want to die, it becomes really difficult to convince myself to care for the people that I matter to. When I'm back to somewhat normal, it brings on so much guilt. But this isn't the point. The point is, if I didn't move here, I would be stuck in a situation where I was pretty much soul dead. I know I have made some progress related to finding who I am and what do I actually like but it is still pretty fickle. It's a lot of work. I barely want to get out of bed. I feel extremely alone. Like I know I have people a phone call away but also, I would like to meet people in person more. The amount of time I spend alone is extremely too much. It is an overload and I can not seem to take it well. But also, the past wasn't significantly better. It did push me to extremes where I felt drugs were the only proper escape I could have. That is a whole thing I need to rethink. I've finally reached a point in my life where I've spent months being constantly high. Mostly on caffeine and nicotine. Some might say overdose level high. But yeah, my mind is finally starting to fight back. It has had enough. Maybe I'll start forming a new personality from all that I've learnt in the past few months. At least I am not soul dead like I was from 2020. At least I have found myself. Breaking myself out of that frozen mode has been hectic. It has been her acting out violently. Maybe we'll find truce. So that way, I have to admit, moving here was great but finally trying out weed and psychedelics wasn't. But that had a positive effect too. Or do I just want to believe that it did? I was in a well protected bubble before it. A bubble free from addictions. At least I don't drink any more. Weed is highly under control as well. I am able to resist most of my urges. I am not physically addicted to weed but I am psychologically addicted to it. Which doesn't bode well when I don't say no to anything I want. But I would still live in a scared bubble if I didn't try psychedelics. It broke me out and gave it complete freedom. That isn't nice.

It all simmers down to would you rather be current you or the early 2022 you?

I want to be the current me without addictions. Without the damn urges. And that is something I can work on.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Birthday! Can I get some Kana/Hatori from Fruits Basket? If not, do whatever!!

When everything settles, when no one is going to jail but Ian, and they've at least contacted the appropriate authorities about the treasure residing beneath the church, Patrick takes his son aside and says, "I hope you don't think - not that she's not lovely, of course - but what I said, before, you didn't take it the wrong way, did you?"

What do you have? his own voice echoes in his mind. Him?

Ben blinks. They're still covered in dust and oil and sawdust and maybe this could wait, except it really can’t. “Well, Dad, I don’t know why you’d think I would ever take anything you say the wrong way.”

What a brat. “Riley’s a good kid, I mean. Man. A good man. I didn’t mean – I just meant that I wanted you to have something steady, and not the two of you galivanting across the globe chasing fairytales.”

“Don’t worry about Riley,” Ben laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m sure he didn’t take it personally.”

It wasn’t Riley who he was worried about, but now he’s wondering if it should be.

~

Weeks turn into months so quickly when there’s so much history to catalogue and examine and distribute.

Patrick likes Abigail. She’s a fantastic girl. Sweet, funny, whip smart.

She reminds him of Ben’s mother. And Ben has always been a little bit too much like him, no matter how hard they both try to deny it.

But his son has done what he couldn’t, had found the treasure their family had spent generations looking for. Maybe he can do this too.

Still.

Abigail had met his son at his best, up to his neck in the exact type of trouble he knew how to get out of. Often, maintenance is more work than performance.

~

Riley is sitting at his kitchen table, going over all their schedules while Ben and Abigail are going over the Egyptian catalogue in the living room.

Patrick puts a cup of coffee next to his elbow and says, “Ben doesn’t have much luck with friends.”

“Thanks,” he says, picking up the mug. He pauses with it almost to his lips, his brain catching up with Patrick’s words. He puts the coffee back down and turns towards him. “What?”

“Or people, in general,” he continues, then forces a smile. “He gets that my side of the family, probably.”

Emily knows where to hit where it hurts most, but she’s better at pretending to be normal than he is. Ben is the best of them, but some days he’s the worst of them too.

“Ben has friends,” Riley protests, then his mouth falls into a frown.

Discovering the lost treasure would be the perfect time for old friends to come out of the woodwork. Riley and Abigail screen their calls now.

Ben doesn’t have to.

“He can be a little – impulsive,” Patrick says, “when something – he doesn’t always think things through, and makes decisions without thinking of the consequences, or if the outcome is worth the sacrifice.”

Riley is unphased. “I know,” he says, “I know Ben, Mr. Gates.”

“I know you do,” he says quietly.

For some reason, that’s what tips him off, and red flushes Riley’s cheeks. He looks back down at his laptop. “It’s – it is what it is. It’s fine.” He glances up again, lips painfully pulled into a lopsided grin. “I don’t have the best luck with people either.”

Patrick squeezes his shoulder but doesn’t dispute it.

Falling in love with a Gates man is quite unlucky, after all.

[radiant-reid]

Love/Hate Island

Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Previous

Spencer Reid's decision to conceal the breakup with his girlfriend of two years becomes a problem when Rossi orders him to bring her to his new Long Island mansion on a week-long vacation with the team. Can their relationship be fixed? Do they want it to be?

Summary: Spencer's lies, both by omission and outright, become an immediate issue. A call to his ex-girlfriend, asking for a favor, plays out better than he expected

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: swearing | tiny sexual allusion

Word Count: 2.6k

A/n: I have no impulse control posting this... I’m just too excited

Spencer decided after 1 week that he was over it. He read studies, like usual, they suggested it took anywhere from 21 days to 11 weeks to 3 and a half months, to half the time you were with that person- in Spencer's case, 1 year- but Spencer was never average.

It took the average student 8.2 years to complete a doctorate degree, with a bachelor's degree in the same subject. Spencer had gotten two in 4 years while also getting two additional BAs (4 years, on average, of study each)

So he didn't think it odd that he was able to cram his grieving into 7 days. It was useful. It meant he could properly focus on the case that the BAU had 5 days after the breakup.

No one noticed- a fact he was grateful for after he tried to make it inconspicuous. That did mean not telling the team about it. Not Derek, or JJ, or Emily, or Penelope. Not a single one of them knew. He went on like normal, possibly- although he'd never admit it- compartmentalizing the unbearably upsetting event.

So yeah, he was over it. He barely thought about it. Those two years were pushed out of his brain.

It wasn't even on his mind that Wednesday afternoon, 6 weeks after the breakup.

"Everybody, I've got an announcement." Rossi dramatically spoke once the team had hauled themselves into the round table room. Hotch was absent, but it wasn't close to his birthday, so it couldn't be about a surprise party. Garcia, practically jumping up and down next to him, obviously already knew. She always knew everything, apart from Spencer's breakup. A fact he was inwardly smug about.

Spencer wasn't sure where it was going, but he felt slightly uneasy about the whole thing.

"I've brought a new mansion in Long Island, and I'm throwing a little house warming party," Rossi revealed, looking around the table to catch their reactions. It didn't sound too bad to Spencer, spending a weekend at Rossi's. He loved the team, and they were always good fun. "Hotch has already approved for us to all have a week off, so no excuses." He continued.

Spencer's enthusiasm was dwindling as he thought of his ex-girlfriend. Intelligently, and because he knew it was a complete lie, when Y/n's name first came up after the breakup, he told them she was in New York.

She was in New York for work, he wasn't sure how long she spent there, but he knew she went there after the breakup for a criminal trial.

Spencer watched as JJ and Emily hugged Rossi, congratulating and thanking him.

"Will and Henry are invited, too," Rossi told JJ. That did make Spencer more excited. "Hotch is bringing Jack. You can all bring someone." He announced to the group.

Spencer gulped, preparing to lie and say Y/n was visiting family. Honestly, he had no idea where she'd been for the last 4 weeks.

"Reid, you've got to bring Y/n. We haven't seen her in weeks." Rossi's eyes flicked to the youngest person in the room.

Shit, now he was in trouble. "Oh, um, Y/n might have a heavy caseload," Spencer spoke as he tried to keep his tone even. He figured they would understand, often missing things due to their jobs.

While the BAU caught the criminals, Y/n prosecuted or defended them. It was how they came to know each other. Hotch, when he was an attorney, was her mentor while she was still in law school. Once she finished and was living in DC, they kept in touch, and she met Spencer. They didn't start dating until after Haley died, odd how death brought people together. Y/n was spending more time with Jack which led to her in the office a few times while Spencer was there.

"We haven't seen her in, what, a month?" Emily asked, tipping her head to the side like she was suggesting something else was going on.

Her guess was two weeks out from the truth, but Spencer wasn't about to correct her.

"Where are you keeping her, Spence?" JJ asked, joining in on the interrogation.

Morgan just chuckled as he looked at Spencer's blushing cheeks.

Feeling like he was under the spotlight, Spencer snapped. "Fine, she'll come." He said it without thinking. Only after realizing he was going to have to backtrack somehow.

"Perfect." Rossi hummed, a smile on his lips. It annoyed Spencer how much the team liked Y/n. That was another reason he didn't tell them he thought they'd take his side. "We're taking the jet in a week" Rossi held up one finger to punctuate his point.

Spencer tried to push it out of his mind for the rest of the day, determined to finish his paperwork so he could go home early.

It was just before 5 when he took a few files to Hotch's office.

"Hotch, these are from the South Carolina case," Spencer announced after knocking on the door.

Hotch looked up from his desk, pen still in hand, meeting Spencer's eyes. The intense stare made him gulp, worried Hotch knew something. Knew about his little secret.

"Here's fine, Reid," Hotch said, tapping a pile on the cluttered but organized desk. Spencer nodded, placing the files down and ready to scurry out of the room. "I was talking to Y/n earlier." He mentioned, voice even-toned. Spencer froze where he was standing, palms starting to sweat. He tried to regulate his breathing, but it wasn't working.

Hotch was such a good profiler he was able to remain completely neutral. It meant Spencer couldn't determine whether or not he knew.

Spencer attempted to do the same thing, but it didn't work. "Oh?" In his own tone, he could hear the nervousness.

"She said you hadn't told her about Rossi's yet," Hotch explained, face still stoic.

Spencer wasn't sure whether to lie and potentially get caught out or not. "Oh, my phone's dead." That wasn't a lie. To accentuate his point, he held up the flat phone.

As he stood under Hotch's stare, he felt incredibly sorry for Jack. That kid would never be able to sneak out of the house. And if he did, he'd crack the next day when Hotch asked how he'd slept.

Hotch nodded sharply. "Oh." He said, still Spencer couldn't work out if he knew. "I'm sure she'll be able to come now that she's finishing up in Pittsburg tomorrow." So that's where she was.

Spencer realized that must have meant Y/n hadn't told Hotch they'd broken up, despite how close she was to his Unit Cheif.

"I bet you missed her," Hotch commented, ripping Spencer out of his overthinking.

Spencer forced himself to nod, plastering a smile on his face. "Yeah, but it's similar to being apart when I'm on cases." He lied, hoping Hotch wouldn't notice.

"Still, you should go home and call her," Hotch said sympathetically. Spencer always felt nervous around Hotch, like the cliche of how he was supposed to react around Y/n's father. Hotch, he knew, was much scarier.

Spencer nodded again, smiling more happily. "Yeah, I will." Lie.

"Good." Hotch didn't notice. Maybe he was blinded by his father-like affection for Y/n. "I'm really proud of her." He commented absentmindedly.

Spencer replied without missing a beat. "Me too." He didn't have to lie that time.

"Goodnight, Spencer." Hotch farewelled him.

"Goodnight, sir," Spencer replied before leaving the room. Once he was outside, he took a deep breath, immediately relaxing. He touched a hand to his cheek, hoping it wasn't too hot. It was. He just hoped Hotch figured it was in adoration of his ex-girlfriend.

Spencer raced to grab his messenger bag, walking out of the building as quickly as he could. He thought the entire way to the metro. Even the whole train ride where he usually read, subsequently receiving odd looks from strangers, who assumed he was skipping books around Quantum mechanics.

Finally, once he was back in his new apartment, he felt like he could breathe again.

Getting around the address line on his personal information form was something he figured would be challenging. It wasn't. He simply brought Garcia a new mug. Telling her it was waiting in the kitchen, with her favorite tea in it, was enough of a distraction for him to change the detail.

Unsure of why he was doing it, Spencer plugged in his phone to charge. It wasn't exactly like he wanted to call Y/n. But he was now in a complicated position. Y/n knew. Spencer now knew she knew. Spencer didn't know if Y/n knew that he knew. His head was a mess.

He didn't have the chance to decide if he was going to call when his phone rang. Y/n's ringtone. The ringtone she set the first night they slept together, insisting he needed to know when it was her calling. Spencer hadn't forgotten about it, but he didn't know how to change it, and he couldn't exactly ask Garcia.

After sucking in a sharp breath, reassuring himself he was completely over her, he answered the call.

"Y/n." Without seeing her, it was a lot easier to maintain a Hotch-like tone.

"Spencer fucking Reid." She answered, tone dripping with disdain. Disdain for him. "Why did I get a call from my favorite member of the BAU, that would be Aaron, that I'm invited to Rossi's new mansion with you?" She asked, clearly mad at him.

Spencer smirked smugly. "Oh, well, that would be because you are." He sarcastically answered, determined to piss her off as much as he could. In hindsight, it wasn't a good idea. After all, he needed a favor from her and a pretty big one at that.

"Great, thank you so much, Genius." She replied just as sarcastically before her voice changed back to angry. "Why does he think we're still in a relationship?"

"Oh, right." Spencer played it dumb. "That would be because I didn't tell anyone we broke up." He replied, trying to sound confident.

He could imagine Y/n throwing her arms up in the air, feeling like she was fighting a losing battle with him. "Could you maybe explain why that was? Because the last time we talked about our relationship, we both agreed it was over." She kept her tone just as hateful, but she wasn't yelling.

Spencer wasn't exactly sure how to explain it. He definitely wasn't about to tell her the truth. He was about to say it never came up, but he respected her more than that. "I know it's over. I just didn't want to tell them?" He said like it was a question, voice jumping up an octave.

"Well, that's really unhelpful because now Aaron thinks we're still together," Y/n replied quickly, determined not to let him beat her.

"Okay, so, why didn't you tell Hotch we weren't dating?" Spencer quipped cleverly.

The silence was enough to tell him she didn't have a good enough answer. Still, she spat one out. "That was your responsibility. You work with him."

"You've known him longer," Spencer argued. Despite the fact he needed a favor, something about her infuriated him.

"Seriously, Spencer, this is so stupid. Just, please, let me get on with my life." She begged. Spencer could tell there was something sad in her tone.

He didn't press her on it, not wanting to give her the illusion he cared and not willing to stoop as low as to tease her. He did, however, beg. "Come with me, please."

Y/n huffed into the phone, verbally expressing her contempt. "Why? Why can't you just tell them we broke up?"

Spencer was smart enough to dodge the question. "Jack's coming." He attempted to persuade her. "I'm sure you've not seen him or Hotch since you've been in Pittsburg." He continued smugly. While he knew it was morally wrong to guilt-trip her, he did so anyway, absolutely trying to avoid telling the team of their split.

Before he could keep going, Y/n cut him off. "How do you know about Pittsburg?" She demanded. Before he could reply, she figured it out, still as sharp as ever. "Aaron."

"Mmhm. So, a week in David Rossi's new mansion?" Spencer offered like she was actually his girlfriend. "You don't even have to speak to me." He tried, still not receiving an answer.

Y/n groaned, knowing what her answer was going to be. She hated herself for it. "Fine." She agreed with as neutral a word as she could think of. "But we are not getting back together, nor are we together." She stated firmly. She was willing to lie to them for a week so, she got to leave them properly. Plus, Rossi's new house was bound to be exquisite.

"Always a stickler for the rules," Spencer commented under his breath but loud enough for her to hear. He knew remarks like that would irritate her, they always used to.

He could almost imagine her eye roll and the way she'd bite her lip to suppress an outburst. "You piss me off. I hope you know that." She simply stated, but he already knew that.

Spencer ignored the comment, also something that would annoy her. "Do you want to come over?" He asked smugly.

"Absolutely not. We're not getting back together, so I'm not coming to your apartment." Y/n spat back almost instantly.

Spencer knew what his words were insinuating. He'd said the identical words multiple times before they lived together. Either for some mind-blowing sex or just a deep late-night conversation.

"Didn't mean it like that, princess." He teased, unable to continue before she cut him off.

"Do not call me that, Reid." She insisted. Surprisingly, it was a pet name he'd never used before. If he had, while they were dating, she would have thought it was sweet, but she couldn't hear anything in his voice other than taunting.

"Alright, alright, calm down." Spencer was absolutely never that condescending. Then again, he'd never had an ex-girlfriend with two years of relationship history. "All I'm saying is I've clearly missed a lot. That's going to be apparent if we turn up to Rossi's, and I don't know where you've been for the last 6 weeks." He explained.

As much as Y/n was loathed to admit it, he was right. At least she wasn't able to kid herself into thinking he actually cared. "Agreed, but, firstly, if we weren't in this situation, which is your fault, my whereabouts would be absolutely none of your business." She firmly stated, pushing back where ever possible. "Secondly, I'm not coming to your apartment. We can meet somewhere neutral." She decided.

Spending extra time with Spencer wasn't something she wanted to do. However, she realized, it would be very apparent if she hopped on the jet, and it was the first time she'd seen him in a month and a half.

"Perfect," Spencer replied, trying to sound as joyful as possible. "Breakfast tomorrow, anywhere you want."

Y/n thought about it for a second. Clearly, she knew she was going to have to see him. She just didn't expect it was going to be so soon. "There's a great place by my apartment. I'll text you to address." She almost said it like she said in the early stages of their relationship. A fact that nauseated her.

"See you there at 8, princess." Spencer farewelled, quickly hanging up with a chuckle, feeling like he'd won.

Next chapter

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[shepard-ram]

Fool's Gold [Yandere!Impulse X Reader]

Angst, Requested: "Please may I request some Yan!Impulse (which is a challenge bc he's lovely) I'd love to see you put in some of those poetically dark moments that really hit in there (because you're good at that /g)"

I actually got pretty excited coming up with the idea for this one. Probably because this is my first full work for Impy. Tw: Yandere, talk of death, and demon stuff- Not sure if that should be a tw but yeah this is very much a demonpulse fic (Also this is probably wildly out of character but it's yandere stuff what do you expect lol)

--------------------

You had known Impulse for, honestly a few years now. You weren't at all a new member to the group. Dispite this you wouldn't exactly say you were the closest with him. Never having had more than few big moments of collaboration speckled across the handful of seasons you coexisted.

However, now with a new world getting back into the motions, especially with everyone living in such a close bundle, you decided that this would be the season you properly called each other friends. Knowing how it usually plays out, it wouldn't take more than to settle down next to his base for things to begin stirring.

Impulse wasn't at all opposed to your decision. As always he remained a bright, friendly face. 'Yeah,' you thought, 'this is going to be nice.'

For a good while, you were completely right. Sure each and every moment in this server was nothing other than fun, but your new neighbor added a fresh level to it all that you were incredibly thankful for.

Dispite the fact that Impulse clearly donned horns, wings and a tail that gave the "Imp" part of his name legitimacy, he was only ever sweet, caring and helpful to you. So far detached from the word "demonic". Those nonhuman traits were dusted in a rich, glimmering gold color. One that was just as welcoming as his personality.

Between pulling all-nighters together to grind out builds and resources, sharing in the high action fun that pranks and storylines offered, and even just relaxing and decompressing in your shared and comfortable silence, you had established you two as a major duo of the season.

Impulse was absolutely joyous at your union. It was a dream come true, you really had no idea. You were something of an "admire from afar" case to him. Ever since you joined the server he felt something. Perhaps not love, but you made a habit of lingering in his mind a little too long for you to mean nothing to him.

As these things usually progress, he only found his admiration of you evolve into something he'd be more comfortable calling love. Your hours spent together were his greatest treasure, and he could say the same about you yourself. You were precious, valuable, and about a million other synonyms he had slowly thought up over these months.

It came to the point where he thought about just straight up confessing. Until you had a particularly rough conversation.

It honestly shouldn't have ment anything. During one of your late night "talking about everything and nothing" talks, you found yourself on the topic of next season. What you hope to accomplish, who your thinking of collaborating with, that sort of stuff. That's when you made the deceivingly offhanded comment.

"You know, I've really enjoyed sticking around with you Imp." Those little confirmations sent his heart into a small frenzy. "But I guess, I've always thought of this-" You said, gesturing between the two of you. "As just a season 8 thing. Like obviously we'll still be great friends, I just want to change it up a bit again."

He was stunned. Maybe he was too shocked to do anything else, maybe he wanted to keep the peace a little longer, but dispite the shattering of his heart that might as well have been auditory, he still gave the world's weakest "Yeah." Then added a good three seconds later, "I get it."

He was still thinking about it a week later. "Change it up a bit." You ment it so causally, but to him it felt like you implied that he was disposable. Is that really what he was worth to you? Just a fun little gimmick or accessory to switch up when the time came to it?

He knows that couldn't be it. He had gained a crush on you, no- fallen in love with you- because you were a kind and loving person. There was absolutely no way that you really wanted to toss him like a shirt gone out of style. You spent so much time together, he rationalized. You had to feel something about him like he felt about you.

You would stay together, for however long it took you to realize the depths he would be willing to go to for you. Then you had the rest of your lives together.

Wait, not even that. He remembered. As a demon he would have a much longer life span than you. Even if you came to your senses and stayed with him, he would still have to deal with you leaving eventually. Willingly or not.

Those thoughts put him in a state of despair for a good while. He needed a plan to keep you long enough for you to realize you love him, maybe even a way to circumvent your measly human life span. And he needed that plan now. Thankfully, after some reflecting, he remembered a certain few options that those with demonic blood had access to.

All it would require was your name on a peice of paper, and a handshake.

That's all it takes to sell your soul.

When he first learned he had the capability to put someone's eternal soul into debt he was disgusted at the thought of himself doing that. How cruel and vile it would be to go through with that.

However, desperate times call for desperate measures. And anyways, after the initial panic, you'll understand that this will make you happy. Eventually you'll be dumbfounded that you ever thought that forever by his side wasn't what you always wanted.

The handshake would be easy, but how would he get the signature? Similarly easy. See, there were already these things quite close to "mini" soul contracts. I.O.U's

Everything was planned perfectly. Every little detail of the situation was engineered just right so that he could reasonably request one from you. He watched with concealed glee has you scribbled your name on the peice of definitely, absolutely 100% normal- not magic at all paper. Then quickly pocketed the thing, before holding out his hand. Hoping that you'll get the message and go through with the handshake.

Once you did, the gig was up. When you agree to a contract it is quite the spectacle. Wisps of energy and the glow of eerie lights tend to materialize after the connection is sealed.

He almost felt bad seeing your confusion.

"Hey Imp, what the heck is all this" Your voice was a mix of equal parts concern and wonder.

"Remember the last time we really talked?" He felt no need to hide what he's been thinking anymore. It's not like you can get out of this. He didn't wait for you in orde to continue. "You said you were going to leave me next season, and I'll tell the truth. It hurt."

You were now officially terrified. The special effects have completely fizzled out, leaving just the weight of his words to carry their promise of misfortune.

"And I'll keep telling the truth. We're in love with each other. I know you haven't realized that yet, but I've come to terms with it." He was walking closer to you now, you knew he would never physically hurt you. But it still sent your internal alarms ringing.

"What are you talking about" you timidly spoke up, "please tell me this is a bad joke. You can't be serious." This wasn't the Impulse you were friends with, it just couldn't be.

"See, even now when I'm directly giving you the option to have the revelation, you still deny it. You still want to leave me." He spoke with the kind of fake empathy that you've only seen people use to mock others with.

"How about a change in topics? Have you ever heard the phrase, 'Till death do us part', well I always thought that it was bit cheap." He started walking around you. Not paying any mind to how you defensively never let him out of your sight. This was insane. But you still didn't want to believe that this was real.

"I mean- really? All it takes is death to keep you two apart? Is that really it?" He rambled, half to himself.

"Wha-" Your mind was trying to wrap around it all. Surely this is just a bad dream.

He cut you off, "What you just signed my angel, was what you would call, a soul contract." He watched with what you could only describe as a look of sick entertainment at how your face dropped.

"So before you try anything, let me tell you just how this is going to go. You can try to run. Tell the others, attempt to break the deal you've just made. You can even leave the server, drop off the face of the earth and live a happy, long, and fulfilled life far away from all this. But one day, you will die. Good luck running from that."

He let his hushed laugh fill the silence, there was no way you could form words right now anyways. "And when you do die, you will be mine forever." He generously gave you a few seconds to take in what he said. "Now it's your choice, angel. And while I would be a bit hurt If you do choose to run. I won't stop you."

"After all. We will be together for the rest of time."

[secret-ssociety]

could you maybe do a dolores x reader? any plot ur comfortable with i do not mind :]

ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ

Pairing(s): Dolores Madrigal x reader

Warnings: none

A/N: I re-wrote this a thousand times, but I hope you like the result

masterlist

Why is life so confusing?

"Please, tío." She kept pleading.

Laying her head face down on the kitchen table, she heard her tío Bruno walk around the kitchen, making himself an arepa and refusing to give her a new prophecy.

"For someone whose gift is hearing, you really manage to not hear me saying no."

"Please." She insisted.

Bruno sighed.

"Dolores..."

"Please."

"I promised the whole family I wouldn't see any more of you kids' futures after Mirabel's prophecy," he talked patiently, "I have already frustrated every single one of Camilo's attempts to get a vision about him, why exactly do you think I'll make an exception for you?"

"Because you have already given me one before."

"The more reason why you don't need a new one."

Dolores continued. "Please."

"Dolores, you have been dreaming with this kid for months," her tío sighed for what felt like the hundredth time, "and now they're here. You already broke up with Mariano. You already like them. You want me to give you a prophecy that tells you exactly what?"

Like she was saying, life was complicated right then.

After having spent most of her teenage years and early adulthood smitten with Mariano, no one would have expected her to start having recurrent dreams with another person a few months into their relationship. She never mentioned it to anyone but her tío Bruno, that these dreams weren't happening once or twice a week, it was every night that a face she didn't know popped into her sleep in dreams she could remember in perfect detail the morning after.

She didn't think too much of it at first, it was someone she had never once seen in her life, someone who had never been in Encanto, so she ignored it. She ignored the painful anguish she felt every morning upon waking up and finding her life was different than that of her dream. She ignored the dullness of her heartbeat when Mariano started reciting his poems. She ignored the thoughts she found herself getting lost on every day of the person she was nowhere near acquainted with.

And then you arrived into her world, and Dolores couldn't ignore it anymore.

You had only been in Encanto for a few weeks when she decided to break up with Mariano. It had been impulsive, yes, but still she didn't find herself regretting it even once. No one could understand, how she had just realized Mariano, the so called man of her dreams, wasn't what she wanted, Dolores couldn't even explain it herself, but the more accustomed she grew around you, the more sure she was of her decision.

Dolores still didn't know what had brought to Encanto, the small conversations you'd had never got so far, but she was grateful for whatever it was. She saw you helping around the village, befriending everyone with a smile and simply growing into the domesticity of the town in a way that yelled you were there to stay, she couldn't ignore the way her beat started beating faster at so much of a glimpse of your short hair.

But the one thing that still messed with her head, the one thing she felt only her tío could give an answer to was the prophecy he has given her at ten years old. Dolores had been in love with Mariano for so long while he only had eyes for Isabela, it had been very clear to her that he was the love of her prophecy, but now... he just wasn't.

What indeed was she waiting for a new prophecy to tell her?

"Something?" She muttered.

Bruno set down a plate with an arepa beside her head before starting to eat his own. "No."

"Tíooooo."

"Sobrinaaaaaa." He responded in the same whiny tone as her right when her mother was entering the kitchen. "Pepa, get your kid."

Pepa, who looked immersed in thoughts entering the room, stared at them distracted, which Dolores secretly thanked, because she didn't know how to explain the situation to her mom. It wasn't like talking to the rat man of the family, he was weirdly easy to talk to.

With the high pitched sound that was so characteristic of her, she stood up and left the kitchen, coming back seconds later for her arepa, which her brother sniffed like a dog.

"Dolores— uh, arepa," Camilo said biting off half of it right out of her hand.

"Yeah, sure, Camilo, you can have some." She said sarcastically.

"Thanks." The boy answered nonchalantly, earning am eye roll from his sister. "I was looking for you. I told Y/N I would help them paint the back of the Ríos' house but I got to do something first, maybe you can go lend them a hand until I get there?"

Dolores pursed her lips. She didn't want to resent her brother, but it was hard not to when she had never figures out how to have a long conversation with you while the fifteen year old had befriended you in a second.

She eyed Camilo suspiciously. "What do you have to do?"

"Can you help me or not?"

So a prank... but it was a reason to spend time with you, so she simply nodded and hopped she wasn't the recipient of it.

Unbeknownst to Dolores, she had caught your eye too. How couldn't she? She was gorgeous, everything from her big eyes to her quiet voice had tied you up to Encanto, you went by every day hoping for a reason to talk to her, so when you saw her walking towards you, your brain stopped functioning for a quick moment.

As soon as Dolores said that Camilo was busy and would come over later in the day, you knew exactly what your young friend was up to. Your friendship actually begun when you were helping fix the doors on the hinges of the reconstructed casa Madrigal, the very same day you arrived in town, and he caught you staring at his sister from afar.

He constantly teased you about it, singing embarrassing songs about your crush on the girl and telling you that he would introduce you two so that you would make him your best man in the wedding. His mockery mortified you, especially since the house was complete and all the Madrigals regained their magical gifts. What if Dolores heard him?

If she had, she did very well to ignore it.

The silence between you two as you made your way across the big wall with the blue paint made you increasingly nervous, pondering about various topics that could surface a conversation, all of them sounding stupid after a few seconds, until you finally babbled, "I had a dream about you last night."

Thank God Dolores' gift was her ability to hear, because she wouldn't have understood you without it and you doubted your ability to repeat it.

"Really?" She gasped with a particular twinkle in her eyes.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I've had a few actually."

"So have I!" The words left her mouth before thinking them through and you felt a blush creep up to your cheeks.

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Well, look at that," you chortled.

As if there wasn't enough tension, you reached to your right to dip your brush in the paint again and she leaned to her left to cover a spot you had missed. Both actions resulted in you slightly tangled into each other, staring at each other's eyes, red up to your ears and suddenly unfamiliar to how form a sentence.

"Y/N!" The voice of Carlota Ríos, the matriarch of the house, made you jump away from each other. "Oh, it looks great," she swooned, apparently ignorant to the moment you had just shared.

"Thank you." You nodded.

"Dolores," the woman greeted, "I hadn't noticed you. So kind of you to come help."

Dolores gave a kind nod in response as Carlota walked back inside the house and you let out a long sigh. "Can I ask why are we painting their house?"

"Well, they are the whole reason I'm here." You answered with a dull tone of voice, keeping silence until you looked at her confused expression and realized your answer didn't answer much. "Our families have been friends for a long time, Tatiana—the middle one, and I were born on the same year, our parents have spent our entire lifes talking about us getting married." You explained at length. "I never thought much of it, until I graduated college and my parents were like “congratulations! You're moving to Encanto with Tatiana and her family.”" You finally shrugged.

Dolores felt a sting in the middle of her chest at the reason you had come to town. "You're betrothed."

"I mean, it's not exactly what you'd call an engagement just yet," you puzzled looking up, "but I'm assuming they'll expect me to propose any time now."

The Madrigal girl, once again, nodded, sinking into a feeling of disappointment she couldn't explain, until realization hit her. "You're betrothed," she repeated in a different tone.

The love of your dreams will be just out of reach, betrothed to another.

She had spent months, literally, dreaming with you, now it turned out you had dreamed with her too and you were promised to someone else. If the prophecy her tío had given her was more literal than she had interpreted, and she suspected it was, then it had never been about Mariano.

That's why Bruno had refused to have a new vision, he had known all along.

"You're betrothed!" Without care that anyone would see her, she threw herself into your arms, an action that made your heart stop just to resume beating furiously.

She pulled away from the hug just a little, enough to stare into your face, enough so that you could the tingling sparkle in her wide eyes, making your breath falter.

Knowing all the problems it would cause, she asked. "Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?"

Knowing all the problems it would cause, you answered. "I would love to."

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Desperate Measures.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaeya/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Stalking, and Delusional Mindsets.

Kaeya was a man, distracted.

Distracted. Divided. Not inattentive, but pulled away from his responsibilities by a force he couldn’t name and couldn’t say he cared for, either. He wasn’t a stranger to romantic inclinations — fantasies, sudden flings, slow-burning inclinations that died the moment his attention was called elsewhere. Predictably, the few relationships he allowed himself were short-lived, at best distasterous at worst, but he didn’t have a problem with that. If anything, Kaeya appreciated it. He’d always thought of company as optional, and what little loneliness he was still capable of feeling could be drowned with a generous glass of wine. He wasn’t one to linger. He tried not to overstay his welcome. He’d been sentimental, once, too emotional for his own good, and he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t intend to change.

He didn’t want to change.

And yet, here he was.

Distracted.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. It was all he could do to look like he might’ve been trying to read the most recent document left on his desk – this one from Jean, a directive for the younger knights or legislation she needed him to review or another vague, important report that he probably would’ve dealt with weeks ago, if he’d been able to concentrate.

He made a half-hearted effort to straighten his back as the door to his office began to open, but Kaeya dropped the act quickly, abandoning it completely by the time he heard the sound of heeled boots against hollow tile, caught a glimpse of a familiar (albeit, rarely used) catalyst, searched for eyes and found the cover of a thin book, instead, your face still buried in your newest novel as you stepped through the threshold, not bothering to knock. It was you. He should’ve known it would be. Who else did he deserve?

You, Lisa’s new assistant. You, the latest addition to the Knights of Favonius. You, his current, infuriating, unshakable fixation.

You, the new recruit who hadn’t paid him so much as a passing glance since your arrival, much to Kaeya’s frustration.

You didn’t look at him. You rarely ever did, but it hurt more than it usually did, today, as you dropped another form onto his desk, letting it replace the greeting you’d forgotten to offer. “Lisa needs you to sign this,” You started, laying out your priorities clearly, a skill Kaeya was beginning to resent. “It’s just next year’s budget. If you don’t want to read it, I think I’ll be able to look the other way.”

He glanced over the rows of numbers, the messy hand-writing, the columns of meaningless gibberish that blended together into a mess of ink and digits, and took your suggestion, scrawling his name across the only blank line. It was a lost cause, especially with you in the room. Especially with your unoccupied hand resting on his desk, your fingertips idly tapping an unsteady rhythm into the wood, and all he could think about was who he’d be willing to kill to feel that hand pressed against his cheek.

He considered asking you, for a moment, giving you an order and hoping you'd absent-mindedly obey. He thought about touching you, or running his fingers through your hair, or pulling you into his lap and mumbling sweet-nothings into your ear until someone else dragged you away.

He thought about a lot of things. Then, he said, “I take it your silence comes at a price?”

“Do I seem that selfish to you?” You were selfish. You had to be selfish. If you weren’t, then surely you would’ve been kind enough to put him out of his misery months ago. “I like helping people. Just remember this when I need a favor from you.”

“I’m sure we could work something more immediate out,” He went on, but you were already starting towards the door, calling the conversation to a close before Kaeya could begin to finish. In the back of his mind, something flared, the urge to catch your wrist, to go after you, to put himself between you and the only exit and refuse to move until you looked at him, but he forced it down, swallowing the temptation before it could eclipse his common sense. He couldn’t be impulsive. He couldn’t make rash decisions. He wasn’t prepared to deal with how difficult that would make things, not now.

Not yet.

“Join me for a drink?” He tried, again, attempting to sound unbothered. Nonchalant, casual, normal. Like he wasn’t itching to burn every book you’d touched. “I know you don’t have anything better to--”

“Another night, Captain.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving Kaeya’s muttered response to echo through his empty office.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, desperate.

Like a starving dog. Like a traveler who hadn’t seen water in thirty days. Like a distraught, distressed, disturbed knight, wandering through a maze of a library, cursing the existence of every shelf that separated him from you. He knew where you'd be. You were a creature of habit, and he’d already had more than enough time to memorize your routine. He’d had enough time to memorize everything about you, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It was a testament to his devotion, to how much time he’d spent trying and failing to win your favor.

It was evidence of how pathetic he’d gotten, over the course of his one-sided pursuit.

You were in your usual spot – tucked into the far corner of the library, perched on the edge of a windowsill, your attention monopolized by the tattered scroll spread across your lap. You were still pouring over it by the time he reached you, slumping against the nearest wall, taking in how brilliantly the muted sunlight looked as it danced across your skin. He didn’t try to hide the way he stared, anymore. He was long past worrying that you’d care enough to notice. Your hair was unkempt, proof that’d you slept in the archives again, if you’d slept at all. Your lips were bleeding, too, the lower one chewed raw and split down the middle, but it might’ve been stranger if they weren’t. It must’ve been a nervous tick, but Kaeya found it cute. Kaeya found it endearing. Kaeya found everything about you endearing, and to the archons, he wanted to see those lips wrapped around his co--

And he hated it. He found everything about you endearing, and he hated it. That was all.

He sighed, the sound airy, exhausted. You didn’t look up, but that was fine. It would’ve only hurt him further if someone as simple as that drew out your concern. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a hum, soft and contemplative. A rather generous response, by your standards. “I’ve noticed.”

“You’re all I think about.” It was an awkward confession, one he’d already used a hundred different times. He didn’t care. He’d use it a hundred more, if he had to. “I’m a wreck. I can barely remember my own name, and some days I can’t even do that. I can’t fight, I can’t eat, I can hardly breathe. Every morning, I wonder what it would be like to wake up to your smile, and every night, I stare at my ceiling and loath myself because I’m not holding you in my arms. For fuck’s sake, just yesterday, I almost kissed Albedo because the chemicals he was working with reminded me of the way your favorite kind of flower smells, and I’m just so fucking desperate, I convinced myself that was the closest I’d ever come to kissing you.”

He was rambling, by the end, panting, yelling, but you only blinked when he was done, once, then twice. Your dull nails bit into the edges of your scroll, but you didn’t seem to mind, nor did you move to roll it up as you finally turned to face him, the confusion written clearly across your expression. “You kissed Albedo?”

“You don’t get it,” He said, and you nodded in agreement. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“I think I do,” You admitted, more earnestly. Your gaze dropped back to the ground, and instantly, Kaeya deflated. “I just… I just don’t think it’d work out, if I’m being honest. I’m still new. I still have to give everyone else a reason to trust me, and I don’t think it’s in my best interest to start a relationship with one of my superiors so early on.” You paused, laughing to yourself, and something in Kaeya’s chest tightened. It was the happiest he’d been since he met you, and he still felt like you’d pushed a sword through his heart and twisted. “But, you don’t really want a relationship, do you? You’re just bored, and you need something to fixate on. I’m the most available option, so...” You trailed off, finishing your sentence with a vague, stilted sweeping gesture. “It’ll be easier for both of us, this way. I like you, Captain, but I don’t like you enough to put myself through that.”

It was all he could do to remember how to open his mouth. Once he did, the words came stumbling out on their own.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, determined.

Determined might’ve been the wrong word for it. Too soft, too suggestive, the impression too positive and the meaning too vague. ‘Depraved’ might’ve suited him better, but that was too harsh, too primitive, and he’d like to think he’d been as gentle as anyone could expect him to be, given your stubbornness. He’d tried to be gentle. He’d wanted to be gentle. If he was going to do this to you, he could at least do it gently. You deserved that much, at least.

Or, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t deserve any of this.

He couldn’t really make up his mind, about that.

“Lisa?”

And he was gentle, more so than he had to be. Sure, you were on the floor, bare stone already beginning to chafe at your skin, but the shackles around your wrists were padded, and he’d given you enough slack to sit down, to ball yourself up, to act like it’d never crossed your mind that he’d resort to something so… easily misinterpreted. The blindfold was, similarly, an act of mercy. You’d panic if you woke up like this, chained to a wall in someone else’s cellar, and Kaeya didn’t want that. You needed time, and he could give you that. He would give you that. Even if it pained him to stay at arm’s length.

“Amber?”

He wanted to touch you. It’d be easy, now, easier than it’d ever been before. You wouldn’t be able to push him away, and even if you tried to, he could always overpower you. Take you by the neck, pin you against the floor, leave you shaking and trembling and begging, pleading with a captor you couldn’t see. He’d find a way to make it up to you, later on. He’d find a way to lie, to smile, to make it better, even if he’d failed to time and time again, out there. But, this would be different. You wouldn’t be able to cling to your excuses, and he’d be able to show you how much he cared, how much he wanted this, how much he loved you. This would be better.

“Kaeya?”

See? You were already coming around.

Your voice was already soft, hesitant, a sliver of a whisper that was constantly on the verge of dying out completely. You were trying not to make noise, trying not to seem as terrified as you really were, but he could hear the way your breath hitched as he took a step forward, your restraints rattling as you curled into yourself. You couldn’t hide from him, but you wanted to. That much was obvious. You didn’t want this.

But, he did. More than you could ever want to run away from it.

He wanted to touch you, but he held himself back. Instead, he only kneeled in front of you, letting himself linger for a moment before he spoke. “I’m here, love.”

“Where are we?” You were afraid, too scared to put the pieces together. Not while you could still hope there was another explanation. Not while you could still deny the apparent. “My head hurts, and I can’t--”

“I know, and I’ll make it up to you.” This time, he let himself reach out, cupping your cheek and chuckling as you tried to shy away. The two of you could work on that, later on. He could live with the guilt if he let himself enjoy it, now. “Just give me a moment, alright? Just a second, then I’ll take care of you.”

You opened your mouth, then you closed it again. Kaeya wondered if you’d be bold enough to refuse if he did try to kiss you, or hold you, or go further than the fleeting touches he’d swore would keep him satisfied, at first, at least. He wondered if he’d care, when you did. “Are… are you going to hurt me?”

He wanted to reassure you. He wanted to promise he’d be patient, that he’d understand if you lashed out, that violence wasn’t an option he was willing to consider, but he couldn’t, like this, could he? He didn’t want to hurt you, but he’d never wanted to kidnap you, either, not until you made it obvious he didn’t have another choice. He didn’t want to stoop so low, he didn’t want you to hate him, but…

But, he was lying again, wasn’t he?

To tell the truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely cared whether or not you loved him back.

You stifled a scream as his hand dropped to your jaw, his grip tightening as he jerked you forward, just close enough to wrap his arm around your waist, to bury his face in the side of your neck, to get a taste of what you’d deprived him of. It wasn’t enough, he doubted it’d ever be enough, but he had you. He had you, he was close to you, and he had you. That had to be enough, for now.

“We’ll see.”

[titularkilljoy]

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.