#it just stings sometimes and it’s hard to always ignore it when it’s constant

[wroteclassicaly]

I’m not sure if I’m gonna do my planned series anymore. No one was interested when I announced it, and I’m losing steam. I don’t feel a passion that much when I post, and I was excited today, but my blurb fell flat. Idk… I guess it just feels like my work doesn’t have a chance because I’m not a bigger blog.

[zoeysandin]

change is never easy. ( @politestrange )

SHE’S BEEN WITH HIM FOR NEARLY TWO YEARS — HER FIRST PURGE WITH HIM A SUCCESS / EXTENDED HER LIFESPAN FOR A LITTLE LONGER ( bartering never felt so integral than ever before ) / BUT THIS NEXT PURGE IS JUST AROUND THE CORNER & THE CLOCK IS TICKING.

HIS WORDS ARE COLD — like his eyes as they bore into her own , like the iron cuffs along her wrists as she hangs from chains bolted into the cold brick wall behind her. her bare flesh stings where the freezing grout grazes her coccyx. the rusted metal suffocates the circulation to her ankles & she still doesn’t actually know where she is. bruising & scarring litter her form & her arms ache. dried BLOOD drips from her bottom lip / cakes in a line along the curve of her chin.

— “CHANGE IS NEVER EASY.”

this christian before her ; jaw clenched & gaze devoid of compassion ; is the christian she remembers & knows well. the man that drove a machete through her father’s torso with ease. & despite her d i s s o c i a t i o n towards the truth of being in this DUNGEON & despite how he still manages to leave her trembling ; she doesn’t cry anymore , she doesn’t sob like the little girl she used to be — at least not in front of him. ( she only will once he’s gone. )

zoey quietly contemplates as she gazes into his beautiful piercing eyes while he winds the leather coil around his palm — that he simply likes to keep trying to break her in. to get her back to that place of PLEADING SUPPLICATION that he gets d r u n k off of & sometimes he still can whip it out of her — literally — her begging cries as she clings to the meager shreds of humanity he has left, her only SAVING GRACE.

the thick animal hide rope lashes against her supple flesh as she holds back the choked sound that T H R E A T E N S to escape / not once tearing her vengeful gaze from his as he punishes her for talking back. abdomen clenching as her chest heaves & her jawbone feels like it‘s about to CRACK from the pressure she’s putting on it to keep her composure.

she’s come to the conclusion that he sees the full breadth of her capacity now though ; that he’s realized that she would be his undoing / seen her ability to MURDER when her survival is at stake ( & even her capacity to murder him ) — he knows / chooses to ignore it — just like she chooses not to act on it. but maybe he hasn’t realized / she’s unsure. there’s still parts of him that are difficult to read — parts he keeps cloaked from her on purpose. too close & she could be a threat to his CONTROL.

& it’s unspoken ( unless he’s rubbing it into her face that even paternal , maternal , & fraternal mortality couldn’t stop her affections / gloats & basks in it even ) , but they both know her constant hesitation to end his life & escape is due to how IN LOVE SHE IS WITH HIM — despite it all. ( because of it all? )

his words continue to ring in her soul even as he leaves her shaking / naked ; S L A M M I N G the door to the cold , dank , wet , basement / dungeon / holding cell behind him. she hears the lock & she’s grateful that at least the words are honest , like he always is. if there’s one thing she’s learned since he killed her father ; & HIS MEN murdered her mother & brother before her ( after he promised they’d go free ) / it’s that brutal honesty is a constant from him. a constant she can rely on. someone to rely on.

( where else was she supposed to go? would he even let her leave. )

her first.

her . . . only.

CHANGE IS NEVER EASY. the tears begin to roll freely now & she has to hold her breath , bite down on her bottom lip hard — breaking the scarred over wound on her lip & causing fresh blood to seep ; the metallic tinge of it staining her tongue — as the grime & sweat pour down her body . . . so he won’t hear her quaking sobs. she won’t give him the gratification she knows he craves. at least , not today.

@politestrange | inbox fun. | send away!

[theenemyod]

I am trying so hard rn please take an Aaron fic for your troubles I AM NOT HAVING A GOOD TIME RN

This is so heavily based on my own experiences it hurtsss

Tw self harm

Aaron locked himself in his dorm room again, arms shaking badly. The Collegium sucked. The teachers didn't like him, the students didn't like him, the lessons were hard, and he couldn't help but feel more isolated from his friends than ever.

And being in Alex's body didn't help.

It did the opposite of helping.

He saw the way Call would look at him sometimes, pure hate and anger, though the moment he spotted Aaron's green eyes he would try to apologise and make up for it. The way students would look at him with disgust or hate, the masters didn't like him as much as anyone else. The constant whispers of "murderer", what Alex did being blamed on him.

Aaron knew it wasn't true. He wouldn't murder himself. It wasn't like Call when everyone was accusing him of Constantine's actions. Aaron knew he did none of that. But he wasn't used to hate.

His eyes move up slightly to the small chandelier light above his bed. What if..?

He climbed onto the bed. This body was irritatingly short. He stood up, being careful not to fall off. It'd be easy to fall off from here.

He grabbed one of the bits of the chandelier and pulled on it slightly, then bent it sideways. It snapped off easily.

Not thinking, he put it in his hand, cutting it slightly.

"Shit." He muttered. It hurt about as much as a paper cut. He rubbed the small amount of blood off it then stared at the piece of glass in his hand.

It'd always been easy to accidentally knock pieces off it. He had a small collection of the pieces that had been accidentally knocked off of his or Calls or Tamara's that he'd kept for whatever reason.

This was sharp enough to cut his skin.

He didn't know why he did it. He had no want to do anything like this and no reason. He understood why it was bad and why he shouldn't do it. Hell, he can clearly see the scars from the exact same thing that Alex's body is covered in. But even with all that in mind, the lined the glass up very carefully to make sure it would work, and cut straight down his arm.

For a few seconds nothing happened. Then a small amount of blood started to drip out in very small drops.

It was disappointing, to say the least.

He could see how deep Alex must've cut when he was still living in this body from the scars. He'd heard videos from people who'd cut to the veins and had to go to hospital.

All that and this is all he can get?

Cat scratches. Fucking cat scratches.

He makes another cut, hoping it'll bleed more this time. That it'll feel more real. It doesn't even cut this time.

Another. It cut but no blood.

One more. One more. One more. There's blood now. Not enough. It's not enough. It's not enough. One more. One more.

A loud squeak snapped him out of it. The dumb rats, Alex had them as pets before he was devoured and for whatever reason they were given back afterwards. Aaron just stared at them for a second, then sighed and put the piece of glass in that small box with the rest. The cuts have started to sting. Maybe he should just have a shower now, and worry about it all later. Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it. It isn't enough. It isn't the same. Ignore it.

[cloudenthusiast2]

To be a human - Scaramouche x reader - Part 1

Synopsis: You knew committing to a relationship Scaramouche would be no easy task but you loved him dearly and unlike others, you believed he wasn't evil. But as a mortal and the devoted protector of your village you were too much of a good person, too much of a human compared to him and your differences slowly start to show.

Next: Part 2

Type: mostly angst, this part is still light tho

Warnings: none... yet

Length: not as long as it seems. I'll try to write the next chapters as soon as possible

Scaramouche turned his back to the mountains he's been staring at to look at the path leading to Qingce village. The sun shone through the fog above the rice fields, colouring everything in golden light. Trees sighed as the gentle morning breeze caressed them while glaze lilies slowly started to close their blossoms.

The view was absolutely mesmerising but it didn't absorb the exoticly dressed, short man even for a minute.

'Finally' he snorted unpatiently as you appeared out of the fog, walking towards him with a big smile. 'What took you so long?'

'Good morning' you answered in a calm, low-key but still visibly cheerful manner.

He mumbled some words to himself but you didn't even try to understand what he was saying. It was probably for the better anyway.

You were both happy you could finally see each other but Scaramouche would obviously never express such feelings, not even towards you. You didn't care so much about that though since the time you spent with trying to bare with him finally paid off. You could confidently say now that you actually knew him and his difficult personality well.

Yes, the constant need to search for clues that could tell you about his hidden emotions was a little tiering but you could usually put up with it.

You haven't been able to see him in a really long time as well. You were living in a small village in Liuye while Scaramouche was always travelling around Teyvat and could only visit you between two jobs. He wasn't the type to write letters so sometimes even months passed without you hearing anything about him.

He came back to you yesterday agter five weeks, to spend a little time in Qingce, the village you lived in and protected with your biggest gift, a Hydro vision.

'Where do you want to go?'

'Doesn't matter.'

'We could go to the forest! It's really pretty in the morning. And later we could pick some chili. I promised Pops Kai that I would bring some to him.'

He didn't react. You knew he didn't like you - his words - 'being a slave of those people' so he just ignored the fact someone requested something from you again.

'How did your last job go?' You asked as you two were slowly walking below the rice fields, watching the sun come up from behind the mountains.

'Could have been worse' he answered curtly. 'Inazuma is a pain in the neck. And there were some... unfortunate events I do not wish to discuss. But at least now I'm back.'

He looked up to the village and his piercing blue eyes narrowed as he took a glance of the neat but definitely archaic looking houses.

'Even this hick town is better than thet hell hole.'

Your facial expression strained for a moment as you heard him insulting the village which happened to be your favourite place all in Teyvat. You calmed your expressions but couldn't help and sting back a little.

'I thought you liked Inazuma' you retorted in a dry tone. 'It's where you're from after all.'

Scaramouche's face immediately darkened and you instantly realised the big mistake you made.

You knew a little about his origins, just enough to understand why he never told about it to you. Regret appeared in you for mentioning his past. At least Scaramouche didn't scold you for it but the air between you two visibly got heavier.

You continued your walk in silence and you couldn't stop cursing yourself for saying such insensitive things. It took two minutes for you to start bickering - this number made you feel sad and stupid.

But then again - he didn't even realise how hard he insulted your village and even if he did, he probably wouldn't regret it by one bit.

You lifted your chin and looked straight into the distance. You could see the various fatui agents scattered around the village, all standing guard for the sixth harbinger next to you.

You didn't like him being a part of the fatui at all but there wasn't much you could do about it. You only hoped and prayed that he one day would leave them after getting enough of the Tsaritsa and her overwhelming, suffocating power. After all, he only joined them because they 'seemed fun' and so far they were more of an annoyance then an genuine source of amusement for him.

'Unless he likes all the bloody tasks they're handing to him' you thought to yourself and then couldn't help but feel a little sick in the stomach.

You loved the man walking next to you but not every part of his personality. Not that part which screamed evil.

You weren't blinded by love. You knew he was indeed cruel sometimes. The part affecting you, his rudeness, his hatred towards any type of affection didn't concern you, it was actually kind of amusing. You loved to tease him about it and when he had an actual soft moment... it was heaven itself.

But you couldn't help but feel worried for others. What was he actually doing behind your back? Did he ever... kill someone? He seemed to be enjoying ending monsters a little too much. And he was quite open about his feelings towards humans. He hated all of them... you were probably the only exception.

'Say, Scara' you decided to broke the silence. He glanced at you, his face and movements still stiff. 'If there was a job suiting you in Liyue...'

'Stop tryna make me quit the fatui' he cut into your words in a harsh tone. 'It's not going to happen.'

'That's not what I was trying to do. I just... want to see you more often. Even after months I can only get a day or two with you... and we're not even alone.'

'If it's the Tsaritsa's order then I will follow it.' You averted your eyes. Barely a sentence in and you were already dejected by his words. 'Even though... I'd like to see you more too.'

You quickly rose your chin just to catch a glance of him rolling his eyes before he quickly turned his head away.

A wide smile lit up your face and you couldn't help but instantly start to gently tease him.

'Oh my, am I mistaken or is the almighty Balladeer actually admitting his oh-so-ridicoulus wishes to a mortal? Scara, are you okay? Yore getting soft, be careful before you get so weak even a slime could defeat you!'

'Just shut up, okay?' He growled at you but you just happily laughed. He's back. 'I'm gonna take my words back if you only show disrespect at...'

'Sure, sure' you smirked. 'Just admit you have a crush on me, Weeky-mouche!'

'Your nicknames are absolutely ridiculous' he claimed, ignoring the rest of the sentence.

'Oh, so what do you want me to call you then?' The temptation was too strong, you couldn't help but wink at him which made him growl in disgust again. 'Sweetheart, perhaps? Or honey?'

'I swear, you're as annoying as that damn red scum' he snorted, referring to his colleague, Childe.

You wanted to continue teasing him but as you turned right on the path you were walking on, a small shilouette - even smaller than Scaramouche's - appeared in front of you.

'Oh, little Yu!' You gasped, recognising the little 4-years-old girl.

Her dark hair was sparkling from the light of the morning sun and it put a tiny fire into her golden eyes as well. She looked like a magical little creature in the mystical forest, surrounded by old trees and young flowers.

A precious smile lit her face up as she saw you and the little girl reached out with both of her hands.

'Miss Y/n!'

You picked her up in an instant. Your favourite thing in guarding Qingce village was the people that lived in it and Yu always had a special place in your heart.

'Are you picking flowers?' You asked her and gently brushed her hair out of her face. 'For who?'

'Mommy' explained the little girl. 'It's her birthday tomorrow!'

'You're a very kind little lady, Yu' you praised her with a gentle smile. Holding a tiny, adorable creature like her was amongst the best feelings you've experienced, next to being with your lover, Scaramouche.

You didn't realise it was mainly because you were completely touch-starved.

Yu nodded but she didn't look at you. You followed her glance and you realised she was staring at Scaramouche.

The man was standing three feet away from you, with crossed arms and a hostile look on his face.

'Who is he?' Little Yu asked from you, fixing her eyes on the unfriendly expression of Scara's.

'His name is Scaramou... Just call him Scara.'

The man and the girl stared at each other.

'You needn't be afraid of him. He doesn't bite' you said jokingly but the little child's face remained serious.

'Why isn't he smiling?' She asked quietly. Scara glared at her.

'He's a little hard to make smile but he's still a good person' you promised her.

'Are you sure?'

Her words were innocent but they hit you really hard. Your breath stopped for a second and the fake smile on your face faded away.

'Now listen here you little...'

'I am sure. Don't worry' you cut down Scaramouche, sending a warning look to him.

He stayed silent but he looked like he could explode at any moment.

Maybe the child was able to sense it, maybe not, but she tried to get out of your hug all of a sudden. You put her down carefully, not forgetting to caress her hair and rosy cheeks even though her words upset both of you.

'I'm gonna go pick more flowers.'

'Yes. Be careful in the forest.' You warned her. 'Call my name if you're in danger!'

She nodded and ran away on her bare feet, looking like a little fairy among the old trees.

Leaving you alone with Scaramouche.

[bravemikhailo]

untitled ficlet for day 1 of Gallavich Week 2022: trials and tribulations @gallavichthings

in which Mickey thinks about the past (6x01 through 9x06)

- - -

There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel, they say. Once upon a time, he used to think it was bullshit.

Now, he sometimes thinks about his past, and maybe that stupid cheesy phrase isn’t so wrong after all.

Sometimes he thinks about prison, the memory so vivid that it makes bile rise up his throat, his first stint the darkest period of his life.

He remembers the constant gloom and heavy shadow hanging over him, an invisible monster clawing at his throat, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe. Eyes wet and stinging, nose burning.

The devastating feeling that this was going to be it for him almost unbearable.

Freckles fading from his memory with each passing day, green eyes etched forever in his memory but so far away, unfocused, wavering.

You don’t owe me anything, he had said.

He owes him everything. Fucking everything.

Freckles coming back to him under the bleachers. Shock on his face. Anger. Then sadness, maybe.

An emt uniform. New job, new life. No more space for him in it.

It doesn’t stop him from asking. It never will. Not when it comes to him. He’ll never cease reaching for him, it doesn’t matter how hard it gets. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t fit anymore. If he never did.

Then there’s hunger, passion, big hands on his hips and it’s like coming up for air after months of drowning. A glimmer of light after being trapped in the dark for so long.

He says yes, and he gets in the car, and for once he decides to ignore that voice in the back of his mind, telling him that good things, beautiful things like Ian weren’t meant for someone like him.

He ignores it, maybe for the first time in his life. He gives in. He gives in to the promise of afternoons spent under the sun, pale skin turning bright red, sandals and tequila. No more cold. Just warmth, warmth, warmth. Warmth all over. Ian. For the rest of his life.

He gives in and it all comes crumbling down, in the end. And it stings, more than anything ever has. Something shatters inside of him and he knows in that moment he’s never going to be whole again.

Freckles drifting away from him in that rearview mirror, further and further away until he can’t reach them anymore and he has to stop. He has to stop and pull over and let it out, let it all out.

Forehead pressed against the steering wheeling, he lets it out, pouring out his heart in a stolen car, in a place he doesn’t know, the void on the passenger seat making his body spasm like it never happened before.

He doesn’t know for how long he cries. Minutes, hours, days. Maybe he never stops.

A heavy rock settles in his belly and pulls, pulls, pulls. Pulls him under until he can’t feel anything anymore.

The tears eventually stop. No more chocking on desperate sobs after one too many shots of tequila.

The freckles start fading again, Ian’s voice growing feebler and weaker with each passing day.

I love you.

He doesn’t know if he believes it anymore. He didn’t get in the fucking car, in the end.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that his heart is shattered, it doesn’t matter that he’s alone.

He’ll always love him. He never learnt how not to. He doesn’t think it’s possible not to.

But maybe there’s still hope for him. It materializes in the form of a shirt, the face of the man he loves, the only man able to break his heart and pick up the pieces. Put them back in place.

He can’t fight the force pulling him in, a blinding light guiding him home, right where he belongs. In Ian’s arms. Nothing’s ever been clearer than this.

Finally free, even with bars caging him in.

[byorder-fanfic]

How They Look After You When it Gets Bad: John

Requested by @apollonshootafar

Preference Masterlist

Warnings: Reader going through a hard time, touch aversion, sexual remarks and suggestions, swearing and mentions of injury

Word count: 1608

Author's Note: I'm nearly done with these, just had a bit of a block trying to get this one done. Hopefully you like it and if you do, I absolutely love to hear your comments and I appreciate your reblogs. I think John might be a little OOC here, but I tried. I'm always here to talk if you need it.

(Gif by @peakascum) (and....)

(Gif by @talicat713) (cause that face holding thing john does is the premise of this fic)

John always loved to have his hands on you, his cheeky grin pressed into the side of your neck as he whispered jokes and suggestions to get you giggle. And it wasn't just when the two of you were alone. No, he seemed to become all that more handsy (if it were possible) whenever his family was near. You often said it was as if he were claiming you, showing his possession with each imprint made on the softest parts of your body. Like a bloody dog pissing on his property. He just gave you a shit-eating grin and called you kinky. You rather liked the attention, to be honest. It wasn't as if it were violating or unwanted, even if you've rolled your eyes at his touch more times than you could count. Truth was, he made you feel attractive. Desirable. Good. There never was a time when his hand on your hip made you feel anything but loved or safe. Your big bad Blinder boyfriend who pouted like a wounded pup when you were too busy washing up to hold his hand. John may have made his constant touching seem like a thing of bravado- a masculine need to claim and possess. However, the both of you knew the real reason why the two of you were attached at the hip: John was clingy as hell. When you'd confronted him on that hypothesis, his whole face turned red, right to the tips of his ears. He was stuttering out excuses (it was a damned strange thing to see you smooth-talking lover start choking out sentences) and you swore he was making his voice go lower, trying to gain some fragile sense of masculinity. In the end, you just grabbed his belt loop and pulled him to against the front of your body. You felt all of him relax as soon as he felt the warmth of your skin seep through both of your clothes, the feel of your hand at the bottom of his abdomen and your lips barely an inch from his. His hands immediately wrapped around you, all embarrassment cooling off him in a sigh of relief. "Don't worry, love, it'll be our little secret, ey?" You whispered as you stroked through his hair. After that, John had continued being just as bold as the day you met him when you were in sight of others. As soon as you stepped into the threshold of home, though, he was nigh-on begging for your touch at every available moment. You were used to him teasing you, trying to excite you and get into bed whenever the house was empty. But when you were dishing up dinner, with the grumbling of four hungry kids, the last thing you wanted was John pawing at your busy hands for a touch. His touch had always been a wonderful thing- then it wasn't. You didn't know when the change began, only that your tired muscles didn't ease when his strong arms were wrapped around you, your heart didn't flutter like it used to when he kissed the back of your hand, and you didn't feel so warm when he grabbed your waist at the pub. All you could feel was the uncomfortable imprint of skin, and you didn't know why. You still loved John. God, did you love him. You loved when he smiled at you from across the room, eyes ignoring every other person that as vying for his attention, and landing entirely on you and only you. Maybe you were a bit possessive too. You loved him when he came home from long nights, weary and barely mumbling a good night as he jumped into bed next to you. He snored like a lion and fell asleep quicker than the four kids in the room next door. You loved him when he cam home bloody and beaten. He always at down in a chair whilst you tended to his cuts and bruises, his hands between his knees and head bent like a prayer, and you always presses a kiss to his forehead before he even started to recoil from his position and hold you, his head pressed against your belly. You loved John. But his touch had lately been too much. Of course, you didn't tell him that. You were pretty sure John would die if he wasn't close to you for even ten minutes, he'd die, and you weren't willing to test out that theory. Instead, you gave a little smile when he came up behind you as you washed the dishes and wrapped his arms around your waist. You let him nuzzle his nose into your neck,

letting the discontent be seen only over his shoulder. It made you feel fragile, and stiff. John was asking you more and more, "Is this okay?" and "Can I touch you please?" and each time you perfected the art of saying yes convincingly. Sometimes though you watched him, snoring the house down at night, and whispered the words in the dead of night where not even the monster that lived in Katie's wardrobe could hear: "Help me, John." It was at the Garrison where you spilt over. After a long day, you were looking for a drink with your mates not another chance for John to grasp at you. You were just sat side by side in the snug, laughing at some stupid joke John had made (at the expense of their dear and absent cousin Michael) when you felt it. As soon as he had caught his breath after calling that certain 'big boss' a prick, his hand had landed on your knee. It shocked you at first, as John had been remarkably restrained all night. You thought it was cause of Tommy, who'd given both of you the side eye when you'd walked in, and said he didn't want any funny business. He hadn't touched you till that moment and it made you freeze. It took one flinch of your knee and his hand slipped away, but it didn't slip from sight. You could feel all the eyebrows in the room raising, even John's. "Hey, you and Y/N having a tiff ey, John boy?" Arthur chuckled to himself. You knew you must have made a face comparable to the horrible feeling inside, because as soon as he said it you saw his smile drop into regret. Arthur wasn't really a thinker, so you knew he never meant to say anything. Still, you didn't let him say his apology as you muttered something about being tired and jumped from your seat, walking out of the Garrison so quick you could've swore you were running. "Y/N! LOVE, HEY WAIT!" You heard John scream at you from down the street. Subtlety wasn't his specialty. You turned around, the tears stinging your eyes not quite clouding the clear worry on his face. "What's wrong, hey, love, please-" He stepped forward to hug you but you took a step back, head nodding wildly. The hurt in his face was as painful as if you had smacked him. And you hated yourself for it. "What did I do?" His voice trembled. His voice never fucking trembled. "I'm- I'm so fucking sorry, John, I love you, I swear." You felt every ounce of guilt in you swell up and pour itself into tears. "I don't know what's fucking wrong with me, why I can't just let you freaking touch me!" He moved forward again, arms out in a hug. Then he stopped, realising what he was doing and awkwardly settled his arms back down. "Shit, sorry love, it's just me, you know? I need to touch you." H scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't know what it is, John." You said it again. "I love you, though. I love you." "I know," his cockiness had risen from its slumber. "And I love you too. If you don't want me to touch, then I won't." He held up his hands in surrender. "I can control myself." "No you can't," you quipped back, a smirk settling on your lips too. "No, but I will," he admitted. "If it's what you want." You nodded shyly, still feeling far too guilty and far too far away from him. "Here I was thinking I'd hurt you somehow, and all you needed was a bit of space," he sighed, the relief obvious in the little upturns of his mouth. "John, give me your hand," you said, an idea forming. He looked at you with furrowed brows but did so none the less. His hand still had faded bruises on the knuckles, covered up by an abundance of rings, a burn mark from his cigar hidden on the side of his middle finger, and you sought out for the crease on his palm which he swore on your first date meant that he was the best kisser you'd ever had. You didn't think it was palmistry that made that a fact. Gently, you pressed his hand on the side of your face over your hair. It was like a ghost of a touch, but you leaned into the curve of his palm lightly. "This is okay," you told him, John was perfectly still, looking at you with a cautious awe, his hand not daring to move from your assigned spot.

After a moment, he smirked again and got that cheeky look you adored: "So does this no touch thing mean no sex or-" He was cut off by you dropping his hand, rolling your eyes and walking away. "Wait no babe I was only joking!"

[drxwsyni]

genshin hc’s - what makes them snap

characters: Kaeya, Diluc, Childe anonymous asked: “could I request what makes kaeya, diluc and childe (separately) snap?” a/n: of course, ty for the request bby <3 warnings: physical & verbal abuse, injury, swearing, general yandere themes

Kaeya

•   He snaps when you snap - that moment when you laugh in his face and call him pathetic for how hard he tries, yet still fails to be the person you need. Kaeya’s the one who should be finding joy in other’s conflict, and sometimes their suffering, not you. To have those harsh and truthful words shoved in his face in such a familiar manner breaks something inside of him that he didn’t even know existed.

•   Kaeya realizes you’re right, he tries so hard to win you over, despite it being all for naught when his sadistic personality ruins things in the end. It was never supposed to be a problem though - you were supposed to just put up with him, because he refused to give you another option. No relationship is easy after all. And, he hoped that you’d be too scared of him to be so defying.

•   Apparently that isn’t the case when you just keep going, calling him a parasite with how he’s leeched to your side, always ruining your chances of making friends in Mondstadt. Hell, at this point you should just leave the region all together, your reputation being tainted by his presence. 

The second such words fall from your lips, a gloved hand comes down on your face, the sting shooting across your cheek.

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

You’d never heard such desperation in Kaeya’s tone before, never felt his strength first hand. If anything told you of the line you’d crossed, that’d be it. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you, in which you’re inwardly praying he’ll storm off to cool down. You don’t have to look at him to know the look of uncontained rage on his face, and you don’t try upon hearing him draw closer, boots loud against hard tile.

“Here I was thinking you’d finally learnt your place.” He didn’t bother restraining himself, a hand quickly gripping your upper arm in a painful, vice like hold. “Oh, but don’t worry―” with an alarming pace, Kaeya began practically towing you behind him towards your shared bedroom, “―I’ll do whatever is necessary to re-acquaint you, sweetheart.”

Diluc

•   There’s not much you can do to deter Diluc. He’s painfully stubborn, your words not phasing him. He loves you too much to let you go, so there isn’t a single thing you could do or say to sway him. 

•   As such, it’s not really what you do that makes him snap, but what others do. 

•   An injury is what makes Diluc lose all self control. The second he takes his eyes off of you, gives you too much freedom - it nearly costs you your life. 

•   Wherever it is you go down, you’ll still wake up in a place none other than his residence, under the care of personal healers that he pays whatever sum needed to bring you back to good health, and to make sure they keep your condition a secret.

•   Nobody knows where you’ve gone, and he intends to keep it that way. The mere thought of putting you in that kind of danger again, or losing you entirely - nothing makes Diluc more sick. Any length to keep you sealed off from the world isn’t too much, not after seeing you on death’s door. 

•   If you thought he was stubborn, controlling to no ends before, it’s only worsened tenfold now. He never wanted things to go this far, truly wishing for the day he’d have a normal and domestic relationship with you. That’s in the past now though, not even mad at the ways he must keep you in line, so as long as it means you’re safe at the end of the day

You’d actually managed to get pretty far this time, making it all the way to the front entrance of his manor. Unfortunately, your timing couldn’t have been any worse, Diluc swinging open the heavy wooden doors just as you reached for the handle. 

It’s okay, you told yourself, there’ll always be a next time.

Now, as you plead for Diluc to calm down, having been sent into a fit if fiery rage seeing you outside your room, you're not too sure there will be a next time.

Finally, the man stills, taking a moment before regarding you with a glare that could kill. “No more chances - if you even so much as think of pulling something like this again, I’ll hurt you so bad you won’t be able to take a single step without my help.”

Childe

•   Childe needs your attention like he needs to breathe. It’s unfortunate that his duties as a Harbinger often keep him away from you, and so the time he does get to spend in your presence is very precious. 

•   You learn quickly how he thrives off of getting a reaction from you, of being close and the feeling of your body against his. Depriving him of that is the only way to get to him. Childe doesn’t care all that much if you hate him, so as long as you’re not focusing on anyone else. 

•   At first, he’ll take you ignoring him as a challenge. A battle for dominance that he must win. And he tries hard in that battle - Childe is nothing if not a determined fighter. He might start out with innocent means to garner your attention, but that won’t last long. 

•   His constant teasing is bad, the far too intimate touches and heavily suggestive words whispered softly in your ear - but it’s nothing compared to the measures Childe will take should you continue to pretend he doesn’t exist. 

•   Starting fights with innocent people right in front of you, slaughtering his own soldiers should they disobey him - if it gets a reaction, he’s happy. Except he doesn’t realize it’s just pushing you away more. 

•   He snaps when you do the worst thing possible - try and leave him all together. 

Even being the hardened warrior Childe is, he still gave pause from the intense emotional shock when you were nowhere to be seen in your shared bedroom. Hours later, his heart still beat a thousand miles per minute. He’d personally tracked you down, carried you home and chained you up.

You were finally paying attention to him, and he suspected it had something to do with the bloodbath you witnessed on the way back. Well, there was that, and the deep set look of unhingedness in Childe’s eyes. 

He knew what he was doing - how he was scaring you. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious - what with the way you were shaking like a leaf in his lap. You both knew what was coming, how he’d make you regret ever leaving him, which likely made the wait the worst part.

For now, he wanted to bask in the effect he has on you. Of how it makes him feel powerful, seen after so long of being disregarded. 

His perfect little darling, not a thought in your mind that didn’t revolve solely around Childe.

[corpsekiller]

Please bakugou + wings. Thank you~ 😍

✝ 𝖲𝖮𝖥𝖳 𝖳𝖮 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖴𝖢𝖧 — 𝖪.𝖡𝖠𝖪𝖴𝖦𝖮𝖴

of course, lovely! i immediately had to think of a reader with wings as a quirk and i hope you like it <3 i might write a whole fic with a reader who has wings, i just love it so much.

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. katsuki Bakugou x genderneutral!reader

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. fluff, language

MASTERLIST

Bakugou loves your wings. They sit on your back, right between your delicate shoulder blades, connected to your body with strong muscles and tendons that carry the weight of your fascinating quirk. The feathers are soft to the touch and shimmer in iridescent colors whenever warm sunlight caresses your wings, though that isn’t the only reason he’s so captivated by them.

There’s something so intimate about touching them, a bond of trust that connects the two of you ever since you allowed Bakugou to run his fingers over your feather while you were cuddling in his dorm. He knows your wings are sensitive and tender in some spots, especially after a hard day of training and hovering over the ground while your others classmates stayed on their feet and watched you soaring high up in the sky.

Of course, he’d never tell you that. Instead, Bakugou complains about their size, how your wings always get in his way, no matter if he’s just trying to walk past you or cuddle in bed. Frankly, he pretends to hate that you always seem to lose feathers — he finds them in his bed and between the pages of his school books, even in the shower and sometimes he steps on them.

And he sure as hell is bothered by your constant need of massages because the weight of your wings strains your muscles to the point of constant pain and who else could you ask if not your grumpy boyfriend who has better things to do than ease the tension in your shoulders with his talented hands?

“My back hurts, Katsu.” You fling yourself over his bed, landing on your stomach right next to him and burying your face in one of his pillows to breathe in his familiar scent of caramel and deodorant. Only when you don’t receive an answer, you turn to peer up at him with a pleading pout in a desperate attempt to catch his attention. Still, he only stares at his phone and scoffs at a message someone sent him, completely ignoring your complaints until your right wing twitches in protest and lightly smacks his cheek to get a response. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

“I heard you, idiot. What am I supposed to do now, huh?” Bakugou asks with a scowl present on his handsome face, clearly annoyed with your relentless whines about your sore shoulders. Yet he still turns to you and shifts into a more comfortable position that allows him to reach your wings, cracking his knuckles to prepare for what’s about to come. “Fine, I’ll do it. But if you tell anyone I gave you a stupid massage, I’ll kill you!”

“Sure, babe,” you reply with a grin, puffing your feathers in joy while he climbs over your legs and settles on your butt with a smirk you can’t see but hear in his voice that orders you to spread your wings for him. By now Bakugou has all your sore spots memorized and it’s an easy task for him to locate the tight knots in your body, right at the joints that connected your wings to your shoulders.

A groan leaves your lips at the gentle pressure he puts into his ministrations, careful to work around your wings and elevate the tension as much as possible. Your feathers tremble when he kneads an especially sore muscle, slowly easing the ache with every movement of his clever fingers.

Of course, it doesn’t take long until you’ve become complete putty in his hands, arms wrapped tightly around his pillow as you relax under his caring touch. The sharp sting you’ve felt coursing through your shoulders has turned into a dull ache you barely notice anymore, body limb and tired under Bakugou’s weight that is still resting on your legs.

“You’re good at this, Katsu,” you mumble with a grateful smile, words quiet and heavy with drowsiness that seems to take over your mind the longer he works over your back and occasionally strokes your feathers, knowingly lulling you into a deep slumber. “Thank you for helping me.”

Before your boyfriend can answer with a snarky reply, you’re already out like a light and snoring quietly underneath him. For a moment, his hands stop working over the joints of your wing in wonder and some kind of pride that you’re willingly entering a state of vulnerability while he is touching your sensitive wings.

Although this isn’t the first time you’ve fallen asleep during one of his massages, he can’t help but feel overwhelmed with the amount of trust you put in him.

“Stupid bird,” Bakugou grumbles to himself while he continues his work, nuzzling his nose in your left wing to feel the softness of your feathers against his skin. Yeah, he truly loves your wings but he’ll never admit that out loud. Instead, he admires your quirk in silence and helps you cope with the back pain it causes as the dutiful boyfriend he is.

[keilemlucent]

(nsfw) ✧ (dark content warnings) ✧  (minors do not interact) 

hawks | takami keigo x reader

wc: 1.7k

warnings: abuse, noncon/dubcon, yandere, vomit due to illness, delusion, reader is definitely not mentally well, brief description of injury, hawks is Not nice in this, reader has difficulty eating, 

a/n: uhhh it’s 2am, time to post dark drabble lol!! i love like.... deep yandere stuff. when darling’s already been In It for awhile and worn down. mwah. chefs. kiss. anyways, here’s my take!

You want to know what rain tastes like.

Is it different than water from the tap? You had asked him one day. He chuckled but didn’t give you an answer. Just an easy deflection, something unrelated to pull your mind from the outside. 

It is easier this way. 

It’s so much easier to draw the curtains in the morning. Damn the sun, damn the light— You can take vitamin D supplements and pretend you don’t mind how dark the apartment is no matter the time of day.

It’s easier to ignore the multiple locks (seven. you count them sometimes to pass the time) that are bolted into the door. The time it takes him to open them with all their tumbling gears and thundering clicks is the preamble to his comings and goings.

You know to rise from your damn-near sacred spot on the couch to greet him. You go to him with a kiss on his cheek, and to give him hug so hard, it hurts. You can’t tell if it’s from the strain of your arms around his, or the pressure of his embrace around you. You don’t particularly mind either way. It’s the reminder you need that as empty and dark as the apartment is, he’ll always return.

Always.

You lock your hands behind his back, clasped below his wings. Routinely, you bury your face in his chest while he sways you. He asks about your day, but he isn’t listening. You don’t think so, but you don’t mind. Nothing you say means much, and every day is the same. You sit on the couch and stare at the floor. The walls. The ceiling if you’re feeling more adventurous.  

You stopped watching TV alone months ago. No matter what you watched on Keigo’s big, sleek television, it was just a reminder. An awful, unavoidable reminder that the world is quite large, and you weren’t apart of it.

You couldn’t be. You were locked in place— one, two, three, four, five, six, seven — in the little apartment. Wasting away, as much as you tried not to.

...

“You need to eat, baby,” Keigo coax. He holds a deep spoonful of soup to your lips. It smells divine, like chives and cream. “Just a little. For me?”

‘For me.’

Your inability to stomach anything is his problem, just as much as it is yours. That’s just a fact.

“I don’t want to get sick again,” You squeeze your hands. There is a semblance of comfort in the action as Keigo inspects you. Searching.

It isn’t a lie. Your stomach growls and rolls, and it has been all day. Keigo has started to always leave ample leftovers in the fridge in the case you’d actually want to eat them. And you do. Sometimes, you even try! Really try. But the end result is always the same. Your head ends up dangling over the bowl of your toilet while you wretch and writhe. 

Acid stings your throat for hours. 

Despite Keigo’s... previous treatment, he seems genuinely concerned about this development. You’re hardly able to keep anything down, despite being well otherwise.

(You’re so unwell and have been for so long, he can’t begin to see it. The bruises are perpetual. The scars that you didn’t have a year ago are fixtures he can’t remember you without. The constant tremble you carry is from the drafty apartment, not from the deeply instilled fear you carry. The one he had branded (literally) onto you. Into you.)

(Fucker.)

You shake the thought off and open your mouth and accept the bite. And Keigo, bless his heart, is sweet enough to not shove the spoon to the back of your throat. He lets you suck the soup from it, quietly praising your work.

You manage to eat half the bowl before shaking your head, tummy already twisting in the worst, most familiar way.

Keigo gives you pills then. Four of them, all slightly different colors and shapes. You don’t know what they do, and you knew better than to ask (you’d gotten slapped across the face the first and only time you tried.) 

The fourth pill is new, and Keigo, graciously, tells you that it’s for the nausea. That a special doctor is helping him help you. Isn’t that wonderful?

You’re so, so lucky.

 (You hurl the next morning once the meds wear off. Your hands shake and your slam your fist into your temples. Begging. You’re not sure to who. Maybe to yourself. Your body. Crying for your wretched form to just stop hurting you. If you weren’t sick, things would be better.

Maybe, you’re begging Keigo. For help. To make it stop. To take care of you and coo that things will be fine as things are so completely not find that you can’t comprehend it. But he is the one who decides when you hurt. Shouldn’t he be able to make this stop?

Maybe you’re begging him to unlatch those — one, two, three, four, five, six— seven locks so you could dash into the world. Scream at the first person you see that beloved, pro-hero Hawks is so beyond deranged and fucked up. Maybe no civilian would believe you. But you were the evidence. You bore the slashes of his feathers. The perpetual imprint of his fingers on hips and thighs. You even had a brand on the bottom of your foot. K-E-I-G-O.

Maybe, you’re begging to whatever god you once believed in to kill you. You don’t care about the means. Be it your hand, or Keigo’s, or random chance.)

 You spew into the murky water and try to forget.

...

Keigo’s special doctor comes by. You see the two exchange hands by the door when she first arrives. A flash of bills and coins. Paid off, part of you perks up. The doctor won’t talk about Hawks’ little captive. You’re sure it’s a handsome amount, based on the neutrality of her expression as she takes you in.

To care so little about something like you is hardly a surprise.

She examines you, collects some blood and other samples. Prescribes a few more medicines that have long and complicated names that are hard to pronounce. You try to forget them. You’re happy to be quiet. Sit next to Keigo while he wraps a wing around you and rubs your back in little circles. He’s warm and good, unlike the rot in your stomach.

 Keigo praises you once she leaves, wrapping you up in him, scarlet feathers and all. Kisses your cheeks, telling you how well you did. How you didn’t falter, didn’t scream, didn’t let her touch you too much. How you were so perfect for him. You deserve a reward! 

He treats you to fresh sheets and more kisses. The kind that feels like how lovers are supposed to kiss. There isn’t too much teeth or tongue, just slow, open-mouthed pressing that makes your tummy flutter in a good way (for once.)

“Isn’t this nice?” Keigo hums against your lips. 

You nod, barely eager but not apprehensive either. Treading lightly on a carefully, self-cultivated path between wanting and revulsion. As good as it feels, you don’t want to give him. You don’t remember how.

His lips trail to your neck, to your collarbones. He pushes up your shirt and only leaves little pecks over your nipples and chest. No wounds that draw blood. No hickeys that last weeks. 

You don’t realize you start trembling until Keigo has to grip your inner thighs to still you. So, he can coo blessed, little reminders.

“This feels good, doesn’t it?”

“I always make you feel so good.”

“You deserve this, all of this,” he says before pressing his lips to your clit. You’re just wet enough for him to fuck you on his fingers. Enough that when he bullies the bundle of nerves inside you, you coat his fingers in slick and whine. Your voice breaks, over and over, and little, unwanted tears leak into your hairline.

Keigo ignores them as usual. You can be so dramatic.

And Keigo, ever gracious, let’s you shatter on his fingers. Doesn’t make you beg, just whispered hushed adorations as you come undone on his tongue. He hardly toys with you after, and instead lets you fall into the sheets. Properly spend, though not exhausted.

You still shake, but that’s okay. It’s manageable.

Keigo cleans you up with a silken cloth. He wipes between the swell of your breasts, down your navel and to your cunt. His feathers ruffle as he does his work, clearly focused. There’s no speaking during it, only watching and observing.

“Thank you.” You speak without prompting. 

Your words are dry and underused. Your lips feel chapped, and your vision is hazy in the dark of the bedroom. 

Keigo gives you a smile (full of white-hot pride), clicking his tongue, “Of course, dovey. You deserve to feel good for me. I want you to. I like you like this.”

(He carries that same sentiment that no matter your ‘post-fuck’ state. Whether you’re twitching and dumb from overstimulation. Whether you’re bawling from pain and holding your hand over a too deep, ‘accidental’ wound. Whether your expression is blank, lips ajar, and face tilted to the ceiling.)

You can only agree with him.

What other option do you have?

...

(The doctor calls the following week. Keigo speaks to her in hushed tones from his office, muffled and stern. You only catch pieces of it.

“They do not appear to be suffering from anything specific illness.” The doctor pauses. “The weakness, fatigue, shakiness, forgetfulness, and nausea all seem to be tied back to prolonged anxiety. Constant surges of adrenaline that have pushed them to this point.”

Keigo doesn’t bother asking the source.

He knows it.

(And honestly? He seems a little proud.)

 You return to settle on the couch. Ever practiced, you turn towards the door and find the locks.

One, two, three four—

That four one wouldn’t be too hard to pick, would it?

(You’d already tried months ago. It was just a chain lock, but Keigo had nearly snapped your wrist when he caught you trying to tamper with it.)

Five, six, seven—

Your stomach rolls and your hug your knees, still managing a smile when Keigo rejoins you. His wings flex, and he flashes you a golden smile. His phone is locked and in his hand, and you know he’ll ignore it for the night. He’ll wrap you in his arms and smother you with his wings.

It’s better this way, you remind yourself, turning from the locks.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Tawnykit

Aliases / Nicknames: Little Bee

Gender: molly

Sexuality: unknown

Family: Sorrelwillow (mother), Hornetleg (father), Needlekit, Leafkit, Sweetkit (sisters), Flutterpaw, Goldenpaw (half brothers)

Other Relations: N/A

Clan: Ashclan

Rank: kit

Characteristics: outgoing, curious about anything shiny, accidentally cannibalistic

Number of Victims: 1

Number of Murders: 0

Murder Method: N/A

Method of harm: ate a kit

Known Victims: Brindlekit

Victim Profile: small, mouse-like kitten

Cause of Death: deathberries

Cautionary Tale: don’t let the acts of a parent reflect on the care of the child

Story:

Tawnykit was a sweet child, but that didn’t effect much in the long run.

Hornetleg died when she was three moons old, but even at that young of an age she understood her father was a horrible cat.

She didn’t know what he did, but from the glares and the constant guard watches, it was very clear her clan didn’t trust him.

Hornetleg was always a good father though! Sure, he was oddly affectionate with her sometimes, and made mean comments… but he was her dad, that had to mean something, right?

Tawnykit felt like that was how she was meant to think. But her life got so much better after he died.

Cats were nicer! She was happier, and she felt free. She became an accidental trouble maker, often trying to chew things she found. Sticks. Pebbles. Herbs. All prey she found.

Mice was her favourite, and she would often steal mice from the pile or dens.

She was, of course, scolded, but mainly the Clan ignored her. Her mom died from sickness shortly after her birth, and with her father now dead she was mostly alone.

Her Clan blamed her uncoordination, her half-blindness, her lack of claws and night-vision as a curse from Starclan.

The clan claimed that she wouldn’t be a good warrior. That she was weak.

Tawnykit just wanted to play with moss balls, and throw pebbles to see what one would go farthest!

She had a few playmates, and was ecstatic one night when a queen gave birth to a new kit, Brindlekit.

She would have a new friend, and she could teach him all the games and facts she’d learned.

But the Clan wasn’t as excited as her. Only a few hours after he was born, in the middle of the night, the Clan ran around, yelling so hard it hurt her ears.

It wasn’t until Brindlekit’s mother  snapped at her for being in the way, her teeth clipping her ear and causing it to sting and bleed, that Tawnykit grew fed up.

While the Clan argued, she ducked into the nursery. Spotting a small pinky grey mouse laying limp in a nest, she decided she’d show them to treat her better by stealing the prey.

Then someone would have to talk to her and tell her what was going on.

The prey tasted weird, and was a lot.. fresher then the mice she’d had in the past. It didn’t even taste much like a mouse.

It wasn’t until her stomach ached, and her mouth frothed that she realized something was wrong. She swayed on her feet, and tried to call out to the warriors out front.

She slipped, and her world went black.

Additional Information:

--Submission by @wills-woodland-warriors​ the submission and photo sent just fine!

--She’s named after the tawny mining bee

--Brindlekit had been murdered with deathberries, which was what all the panic was about. The deathberries were still in his throat when Tawnykit ate him

--She’s 3 moons old

--She was treated differently than her siblings were because she looks very, very similar to Hornetleg.

--The reason no one knew about her in the Dark Forest, despite the fact that she died not long before Fleathistle, was because Hornetleg hides her in the Dark Forest, so when he was killed a second time she was left trapped in a pit where she couldn’t climb out and could only cry for someone to hear her.

--Hey Starclan! Starclan quick thing! *flips the bird*

[greenygreenland]

What I'd Do For You:

-imagine Roy as your adoptive father

-he'd be so flawed but he'd try his hardest

-I write for females because that's what I'm most comfortable with, but it's not too prominent (please don't be offended! It's only what I'm comfortable with!)

Summary: You're feeling down. Roy's here to help.

Today was nothing short of a bad day. It poured as soon as you stepped out of the house, and before you could grab your umbrella, you realised you were going to be late. Not long after, you ran straight into Ed and Al, who both ignored you in favour of chasing some guy down the street.

Whatever, you told yourself. Not like I needed a 'hi' from my best friends anyway.

Not long after, a car zoomed by and splashed muddy water at you. If it weren't for the rain, you'd be caked in the stuff. As you continued down the street, some guy thought it would be fun to mug you. Of course, when he found out you were a state alchemist, he made a run for it. But that didn't make you feel better, not when there were people staring at you like you were a nuisance.

What did you ever do to them anyway? Maybe it was just the fact today was a terrible Monday afternoon.

When you got to Roy's office, your clothes were sopping wet, your hair a matted mess, and your heart, very much hardened and cold. You softly closed the door behind you. There was no point in slamming it when you didn't have the energy to be angry in the first place.

"(Y/n)?" Roy stared at you incredulously. "What happened to you?" You pointed to the window.. The pouring rain and gray clouds were enough of an answer. "Everything happened, that's what." He raised a brow with a short sigh. "'Everything' is quite vague, don't you think?" He stood and made his way to a cabinet. From seemingly nowhere, he found a towel and threw it at you.

"Thanks Roy." You ran it through your hair and placed it on the couch to sit on. It was just as wet as your clothes, but it wasn't like anyone had a blow dryer on hand. Roy took a seat across from you on the opposing couch. "Care to tell me what happened today?"

You thought back to the Elric brothers, then the mugging and everything else you had to go through today. Roy listened intently. "Why did you leave the house so late?" he inquired. "You could have been here at eight o'clock sharp if you hadn't been up all night reading. Then you could have avoided that mugger, the rain, and everything in between." You huffed. "So what? Changing one thing wouldn’t change the day. And besides, it was a good book. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Put it down." Roy plainly offered. "Save that 'last page' for tomorrow, or better yet, sleep before three in the morning." You didn't like the way he was looking at you, as if he were deciding on whether he should be disappointed, frustrated, or annoyed with you. But bad habits died hard. It wasn't easy to break out of those cycles.

You leaned back into the couch. Defeat crossed your eyes, and that was when Roy realized how tired you looked. It wasn't because of your constant travels, or the fact that Edward and Alphonse ignored you completely (he'd give them a piece of his mind later on), but because you were burnt out.

And maybe feeling a bit down.

"You've been studying a lot." Roy stated. You didn't need him to point out the obvious. It was no secret you were doing your best to help the Elric brothers on their journey towards finding their bodies. "Have you found anything useful?" You shook your head with a tight frown. There was so much you needed to work out, so many variables that didn't add up, and so many frauds you needed to uncover.

"Whenever we're close," you mumbled, "our goal keeps getting farther away. Sometimes I feel so useless while Ed and Al go off on their own accord. I just...I don't know." Your shoulders slumped and Roy's heart began to ache. "It's so hard, and I'm really..." A sigh escaped your lips.

"Tired?" Roy finished. He knew that look well, the one where your eyes darkened with clouds and you looked like you wanted to scream when you couldn't. Long ago, he had the same look. Silently, he swore he'd never do it again. At least, not when you were around.

Seeing that same look on your face made him sick to the stomach. "Take a day off," he started. "The Lieutenant is here so don't worry. As for the Elric brothers, I don't think they'll need your help now. They’re fine as is if you ask me." Roy winced at his words. He didn't mean to make it sound like you were unwanted. In fact, he wouldn't do that even if he was paid.

"Maybe I'm not needed by them anymore.” you concluded. “They're busy anyway, so they won't miss me. It’s been weeks since we last talked actually. And besides, Ed’s really great at everything he does. Same with Al. They’re skilled, smart, everything I’m not." You smiled and it was a bit watery.

Roy's lips parted. No, no, no, that wasn't what he meant. The urge to punch himself in the face was overwhelming. Why was he so bad at wording things?

You stood and folded the wet towel. "I'll take the day off. I'm not sure what I'll do though."

"Wait--"

"If you need me, I'll be around the block somewhere." You looked like you were about to cry, and all Roy could do was watch. He wanted to say something, but what if he made it worse? Saying 'Don't cry!' wasn't exactly comforting, and by the looks of it, you weren't in the mood to talk anything through.

A forced smile made its way to your lips. "I'll be back later Roy."

And just like that, you were gone. The door closed shut with a small click, leaving Roy alone in the quiet office. He stared at the phone on his desk tensely. Hughes was good with people, and he knew how to talk to (Y/n) better than most. If Roy called then maybe...

No. Why should he have to rely on Maes? This was (Y/n). He could deal with his daughter just fine. "Teenagers." He found himself making his way to the phone "Why are they so hard to understand?” The familiar beeping sounded on the other end as he dialed the number.

“Hello, could you connect me to Maes Hughes?”

-----

The lone bench you took refuge on was lonely. But you were fine with that. Here, no one could see you through all the pouring rain and darkened clouds. As your tears mixed in with the cold droplets, you stared into the far off distance. The trees swayed in the occasional breeze and you shivered.

Maybe you should have brought a coat.

Suddenly, the rain stopped pounding against your head. Your dampened hair had rivers flowing down it, and the tears that quietly came to a stop left your cheeks with stains.

“So this is where you’ve been,” a voice calmly said. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Why, after an hour, did he come looking for you in the rain? It wasn’t like it mattered. Roy settled by your side, the umbrella hovering above. “Here,” he handed you your coat, “you’re shivering.”

You pushed the coat away with a shake of your head. “I don’t need it.” There was a crack in your voice you covered with a cough. If Roy noticed or not, he didn’t show it. Instead, he helped you put on the coat. “It would be inconvenient if you were sick,” he decided. “How are you supposed to help the Elrics with a cold?”

That didn’t matter. The Elrics were busy for all you cared, and it wasn’t like they needed you anyway. “I’m dead weight, dad.” The words made your eyes sting again. “They don’t-t-they don’t need me.”

“And why is that?” Roy’s gentle tone made the tears fall fast. “Because, dad, I’m useless. Edward’s so much better at everything. He--he’s always saving the day and figuring out all of this country’s problem’s. And...and when I try to help, I always mess it up.”

You thought back to earlier today, where you bumped into the boys spontaneously. They might’ve been busy, but they blatantly ignored you. And the fact that they hadn’t called all week made you worry. Had you done something wrong? No, maybe they didn’t care for you anymore because you were so useless.

“I...I don’t know what to do.” With the umbrella over your head, Roy saw every tear as clear as day. He watched your shoulders tense and your fists clench into tight fists. You were trying to stop crying, but the tears kept coming and coming like a river.

How useless of you.

“Come here.” You didn't want Roy to see your face. “Come here,” he repeated. You hesitantly scooted closer to him on the soaking bench. He held the umbrella in his left hand and pulled you close with his other. When was the last time he actually hugged you like this? He couldn’t remember, and that made him feel guilty.

Was it his fault that you thought so lowly of yourself? Maybe he should have been more adamant on showing how proud he was of your accomplishments. Becoming a State Alchemist at this age was more than a simple privilege. It was a precedent that no generation had ever seen in their lives.

“Why do you compare yourself to Fullmetal?” he inquired, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “He’s not you.”

“But he’s better than me and I can’t measure up to him.” Roy shook his head dismissively. For a moment, you wondered you disappointed him. “It doesn’t matter what Fullmetal is, (Y/n). He’s strong, I admit, but the most hot-headed kid I’ve ever met. Unlike him out, you never let emotions blind your choices. That’s something Fullmetal can’t do. As for strength, you don’t need that.”

He smiled a little and it was so warm. It wasn’t everyday you got to see this side of Roy. He was always caught up in paperwork, plans, and looking after what he worked so hard to accomplish. “You have enough wits to outsmart me. Remember that time Fullmetal challenged me to a match?”

You nodded. “I joined because I didn’t think he could handle it. Ed didn’t want my help, but I ended up coming along anyway.” A smug smirk made its way up Roy’s lips. “And who lasted the longest?”

“Me.”

“And why was that?”

"Because I read your attack patterns?" You uncertainly replied. Roy frowned. "Say it like you mean it."

"Because I read your attack patterns." you repeated. An approving look made its way up your dad's face. "Exactly. Fullmetal has wit, but you are a much more terrifying opponent." You sniffled with a huff. "I'm not--I'm not even close to your level."

"You don't have to be." Roy turned his gaze to the pouring rain, as if he were thinking about how useless his alchemy would be. "If you believed in yourself more, then you will advance farther than you've already come."

That wasn't true. How could you believe in yourself when you felt like an absolute failure? It didn't matter how many successes you've had in the past, because what if they were all flukes? Some day, your luck would run out. Then you'd let your dad down, along with Ed and Al and Hawkeye and Uncle Maes and everyone else you knew.

"You're not a failure, if that's what you're thinking." Roy blurted out. "I couldn't be more proud of how far you've come. The day I met you, I thought I'd fail you. Look where we are now." He laughed a little and it made you relax in his hold. "If you were a failure, you wouldn't have become a reowned State Alchemist. You wouldn't have survived in the most dire times either, and you wouldn't have made me so proud of you."

Your eyes widened. Had you heard him right? You had to be hearing things. Roy met your gaze and smiled warmly. "Yes, I'm proud of you. Why wouldn't I be?" For a moment, you remained still. The gears in your head churned like clockwork, dissecting and rewinding the words Roy had spoken. You tentatively wrapped your arms around Roy's middle.

Yes, I'm proud of you.

You buried your head into his shoulder.

Why wouldn't I be?

And then you cried. Today was nothing short of a bad day, but if you hadn't forgotten your umbrella, gotten ignored by the Elrics, nearly mugged, or showed up late, then you wouldn't have been able to hear those words and the silent I love you's.

IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLEASE REBLOG (IT HELPS ME OUT SOOOO MUCH AS A WRITER!)

[spencers-renaissance]

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it���s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. ���More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he’d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

taglist : @criminalmindsvibez @moreidstrobed @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @temily @enbyspencer @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids (add yourself to my taglist via this form!!)

[messrmoonyy]

same anon here that asked for the remus returning thing, sorry for the confusion i meant like after he gets back but they aren’t back together yet and there are those few days we’re dora is kinda cold and distant just to protect herself and remus is doing whatever he can :)

My girl Dora ain’t no doormat, no way was she letting him get away with treating her like that and just forgive him immediately. Remus did some grovelling for sure.

Pairing: Remus lupin x Nymphadora Tonks

Warnings: none

You can find all my other writing on my masterlist and remember my ask box is always open, I love any and all requests so please do send them my way!

Tonks woke up to the sound of quiet clattering, a scent of sausages and bacon and eggs. Fresh pastries and pumpkin juice. She opened one eye but the bedroom door was closed still, the other side of the bed as cold as it had been for the last month and a half. Ever since Remus had returned to her he’d been sleeping on the sofa, still trying to even come to terms with being able to look at him in the eye. Never mind sleep beside him. She had said she’d sleep on the sofa at first. It was his home after all, who was she to make him sleep on the sofa in his own home? But he’d insisted she take the bed.

She had deliberated moving to her parents. She knew that would be the eventual outcome anyway, they weren’t exactly in the position for her to just waltz into st Mungos to give birth. But the thought of staying with her mother fussing for longer than necessary wasnt all that appealing. So she had stayed put and waited for Remus. And now he was on the sofa until she finally shifted the last of her hurt.

She still loved him, of course she did. But she couldn’t shake the purely painful feeling of betrayal. He had come back so she guessed she should have been relieved. But it was the fact that he had ran in the first place. The fight had been bitter, his words stinging her like acid, biting at her, beating her down until she felt completely worthless. She’d never heard him say such things. She didn’t know he had it in him. He’d always been such a gentle soul, she’d only heard him raise his voice once or twice. But everyone has a breaking point, everyone snaps. And he had. At her.

She’d never known he could muster words so cruel. Didn’t know his usually gentle face could twist into such hatred. Didn’t know he could look at as if he could barely stand to be within ten feet of her, when he so often only looked at her with adoration.

He’d come back quite literally begging for her forgiveness, down on his knees and finding every and any word he could to try and prove how sorry he was. She had let him back because she loved him. Because she was carrying their child. But she hadn’t forgiven him. And she wasn’t about to anytime soon she guessed. No matter how hard he was trying to win her back around.

He kept leaving her gifts, there was a constant supply of fresh flowers for her every morning. She had ignored them at first, leaving them on the kitchen counter to wilt and die. He’d started placing them in a vase now. Sometimes it was breakfast- like it seemed to be that morning from the smell. Fresh pastries on the pillow when she went to bed, chocolate frogs in her sock drawer, copies of the quibbler because she liked the comic pages, the list was never ending. She couldn’t lie that she liked his grovelling, it was really the least he could do after all he’d said to her. And she felt she deserved to have him pay for what he’d done.

She sat up in bed and sighed to herself, glancing over at the small box beside the bed that held her wedding ring. She’d thrown it in his face the night he’d left her, it landing somewhere at their feet in the front garden. She’d not even been sure on where it had landed. It had appeared on her pillow a few days after Remus had come back and she wondered if he’d actually taken it with him when he ran. Or if he’d just searched for it when he returned. She’d shoved it in the box and not touched it since. She wished she could’ve gone back to the wedding day. He’d been so happy. She’d been so happy. Her mother would’ve hated the wedding, but that had made almost a little more enjoyable. It wasn’t even the slightest part traditional.

A tiny church in what felt like the coldest part of Scotland going. Some strangers they’d met a few hours before in a local pub as witnesses, no big crowds of guests. No fancy white dress. She’d worn her boots and the nicest dress she could find in her wardrobe back home. Her bouquet had been some flowers nicked from someone’s front garden, one of which she’d pinned to Remus. It wasn’t perfect in anyone else’s eyes, but it was to her. To him. They’d shared their own vows, been bound together by magic and love and hope. They’d danced all night, stayed up until the sun rose sat up on a cliff over looking the sea. And of course the stumbled walk back to their B&B over the pub, the event that had inevitably created the tiny person residing inside her now. And that was that.

But the Remus that had shouted at her, told her that they had no choice but to her rid of the abomination they had created… that didn’t feel like the Remus she had married. She didn’t recognise that man. That wasn’t her Remus. That wasn’t the man she loved, had married, had given up everything for. He was a stranger to her.

She got dressed then, not wanting to fall into the hole of longing for Remus again and put herself in a bad mood, before leaving the bedroom. Remus was stood in the kitchen and smiling at her as she opened the bedroom door. The bedroom was the only place in the house that offered her privacy, the rest being tiny and open plan. She spent most of her time in there just lately and thankfully for her, he often left her to it. The bedroom being almost out of bounds to him. He hadn’t stepped foot in there since coming back.

“ good morning Dora “ he greeted quietly and she shook her head at him, raising a hand and pointing at his face.

“ no. I told you already. You don’t get to call me that now “ he looked down at the floor for a moment and nodded. He looked like a kicked puppy but she told herself she didn’t care. He deserved to hurt like she had. He did.

“ right. I’m sorry. Tonks “ he cleared his throat awkwardly and gestured to the table “ I. I have breakfast for you. I have to nip out to the Weasleys for a while but there’s more food in the fridge for you if that isn’t to your liking “ she sniffed and turned her head away from the table. She didn’t know why but his kindness just made her mad. Like a switch flicked inside of her.

“ and you’ll return this time? Or planning another week away? “ he sighed and ran a hand through his hair “ need another chat with Harry so you? Listen to a child’s advice but not your own wife right? “

“ Dora ple- “

“ no! “ she hadn’t completely intended to shout but she had. She closed her eyes, balling her hair into fists and tried to get rid of her sudden lack of calm. She could feel angry tears burning behind her eyelids and she blamed her messed up hormones. She refused to cry in front of him again. Refused to show the hurt he was still causing her weeks after her left “ just. Just go the Weasleys. Go on “ he hesitated for a moment and gave a small nod.

He knew better than to argue with her now. Knew it would get him no where.

“ just. Please make sure you eat something. It’s not good for the b- “

“ don’t stand there and pretend you care “ she snapped “ don’t “

“ Tonks I do. I do care I have apologised I don’t know what else I- “

“ if you cared you wouldn’t have left “ there was silence then. So quiet it was almost painful. But she felt like twisting the knife, plunging it deeper and drawing out as much agony as she could. She wanted him to hurt like she had, to feel the pieces of his heart shatter inside his chest, splinter his lungs so it felt as though no air could reach him. Make him feel how she had “ I am only here because unfortunately for me. You are the father of my baby. I don’t care how much you apologise. I will never forgive you Remus Lupin. Never “

The words burnt her own throat as she spoke them, and regret seeped into her chest. But she stayed firm. Refused to cry. Refused to feel guilty. He deserved it.

She had clearly struck a nerve. His eyes swam with pain, his hands hanging limply at his side. Defeated. Hurt. She’d won that round.

“ I don’t know how many time I can apologise “ he said weakly “ I know it’ll never come close to repairing what I did but- “

“ please. Just go to the Weasleys “ she said with a sigh and turned away from him as her tears finally fell. She didn’t want him to see. She closed her eyes. gripping onto the kitchen counter so her knuckles turned white. She heard movement behind her and the front door opening.

“ please make sure you eat “ he said softly before the front door closed and she dropped down to her knees, letting her tears run freely. Her body wracked with sobs

————————-

When Remus had been on the sofa for 2 months, and Tonks was finally starting to pass the phase of just looking a little fat, to actually looking pregnant, nearing her 4th month. She had started to become a little more forgiving. She had started to sit with him at breakfast again, didn’t shut down every single conversation he tried to start with her, sat beside him when he read by the fire in the evenings. Though she always left a fair space between them.

She found she’d started to miss him greatly. Trying to deal with how much her body was changing on her own wasn’t exactly the most fun thing. Remus was still piling her with as much affection as he could, even though she still wasn’t particularly receptive to it. But she had to admire his determination.

“ Nymphadora. I was wondering if I could have a word “ she turned to face him as she toed off her boots, having only just gotten home from a trip to see her parents “ please. If you would “ she hung up her jacket and nodded, walking over to him as he gestured towards the table where a small yellow gift bag was sat.

She sat down at the small table, it had an old copy of the prophet folded up under one leg to stop it from wobbling, but it still moved slightly when she picked up the gift bag.

“ you can’t buy my forgiveness “ she stated, not looking inside the bag “ I told you that already Remus. I can’t be bought “ he gave a small nod, clasping his hands tighter.

“ yes. I know. I do. Just- please “ he nodded towards the bag and she hesitated but sighed before pulling at the ribbon and pulling out the tissue paper. She froze when her figures fell upon a soft cotton and she realised what was in the bag. She pulled it out, dropping the bag to the floor “ I wasn’t- I wasn’t sure on the size or- it’s like Hufflepuff, you see? Of course I couldn’t get an official one. It was a muggle shop and I had to be quite quick I didn’t want to risk anything. I mean I had options of course but- “

“ Remus “ she cut him off. It was a babygrow. It was a pastel green with a badger embroidered on the chest. It was the first piece of clothing their child had. She hadn’t exactly had the best of opportunities to go shopping down Diagon alley for some herself.

“ Dora “ he tried her nickname again for the first time in weeks and this time she didn’t chastise him for it “ I know I’ll never be able to take back what I said. But as I told you when I returned. I had time to think. And these past months I’ve been thinking too “ he reached out gingerly for her hand and when she didn’t pull away he gently took it in both of his “ all I ever wanted was a normal life. A normal family. And now… now I have that chance. With the woman I love and. And our child “

“ and what if he’s not… ‘ Normal ‘. If he’s different. I’d hes half werewolf. Or full. Or. In between “ she was getting a little tense with her words again and she tried her best to remain calm. She was finally getting a truthful and meaningful opinion from Remus on the matter. She should be thankful for that. Even with the betrayal still poking the back of her mind occasionally.

“ then I’ll love him all the same. He’ll be could be born with four legs and 5 arms, two heads. No magic at all. I’d still love him. Because we made him Nymphadora. You and I. And I…. I never thought I’d get that. I never believed I’d be a father. A husband. Now I have that opportunity and I see how much of a fool I was to try and throw that away “ he squeezed her hand gently, his thumb rubbing circles over her knuckles in a soothing way. She knew him well enough to know when he was lying to her. And he wasn’t now.

“ let’s deal with the possible moon situation before we worry about any extra limbs shall we? “ she said with a small smile and watched as he seemed to relax every muscle in his body, his worries that she wouldn’t accept his apologies slipping away “ I won’t forgot what you said to me. And to him “ she placed her free hand on her stomach as she spoke “ but you’re his dad. Nothing is going to change that. And the world really fucked up right now. Like. Really. And so we have to protect him. Love him more than we can even think about “ Remus nodded.

She refused to let the world ruin her baby, refused to let him be warped into a life of terror and fear. Of feeling outcast and alone like his father had. Remus stood up then and knelt down in front of her.

“ I love you Nymphadora. And I love him… or her “ she smiled slightly as he placed a gentle hand over hers that was still cradling her bump. Remus’ acceptance suddenly made it feel all the more real. In just 4 months they’d have a baby. A real one. Screaming and crying and laughing. A most innocent thing born into a world on the brink of disaster. And somehow her and Remus had to keep him safe. And kind. And loved. They weren’t exactly the most functional of couples so it was no doubt that their family wouldn’t be either. But they’d make it work. They would.

Werewolf or not.

—————————————-

It was another week after that that she finally caved. The talk had most definitely been the turning point. And she’d kissed him again that evening for the first time in months. Was actually letting him touch her again without recoiling. Though he was still on the sofa.

Though December had well and truly arrived. The cold weather setting her into an almost constant chill, the old cottage not offering much in terms insulation. And she missed having him wrapped around her. He was always warm. And didn’t complain when her cold hands found there way under his shirt in the night to warm up. She also just missed him. Just him. Her Remus. The man she’d fallen in love with. She wanted him back beside her, his slow breaths on her neck in the night, his legs tangled with hers. Even the way his facial hair scratched at her when they kissed. She just missed him.

So it was almost no surprise to her when she found herself slipping out of bed, the coldness of the stone floor seeping through her socks and chilling her already numb feet some more. She opened the bedroom door slowly to see if he was awake or not.

He was in the armchair, a book on his lap. Clearly having not planned to sleep there, he’d have a sore neck in the morning that was for certain. She grabbed the blanket from the back of the sofa and silently walked over to him. The fire was crackling in the hearth, immediately warming her up. She moved the book careful not to lose his page, before climbing into his lap in its place. She wrapped the blanket around them, bring her legs up and resting her head on his chest. One more month gone and she didn’t think she’d be able to manage that. She wasn’t the tallest or biggest of people. So her bump was still pretty small. But she loved it all the same.

Remus stirred slightly and made a small noise of confusion to wake up and find Dora on his lap. He opened his eyes fully, his eyelids heavy with sleep.

" Dora? "

" go back to sleep " she whispered and felt him give a small nod as his hand tentatively wrapped around her, like he was still unsure if he was allowed to touch her or not. She snuggled in a little closer to him as if to say it was okay and he fully wrapped around her, pulling the blanket up to her chin. It felt right to be in his arms like that again. They’d snuggled on the sofa the day before. But not as… intimate as this. It felt normal again. Like she belonged there.

" why did you- "

" I was just cold " she cut him off, ignoring the way his raspy sleep filled voice made her melt. She was trying to show that she was still just that little bit mad at him. But she couldn’t deny that she missed him. That yes she was still hurt, that she might always been. But nothing could compare to the amount that of love she had for him. Still. Even after all he’d done. No one would ever come close to the way she felt for Remus Lupin.

" right " She lifted her head for a moment to find he was already looking at her. And she couldn't help herself. Because time was precious now. And she was wasting it being angry all these months later. She slipped a hand up to cup his face before pulling him in to kiss her. He seemed a little surprised at first, his lips frozen for a moment before they opened to capture her own. But she didn't blame him because she was too. She hadn’t planned for that night to be that night she let go of the final part holding her back.

" this isn't me forgiving you " she said against his lips once they pulled apart. Half joking. Half not.

" I know " he seemed quite truthful with that. Like he understood her thinking. Maybe he did.

" good "

" good " she kissed him again and found herself shifting in his lap, slipping a leg either side of him. Because she was mad at him, she was really. But she loved him more. Missed him more. Needed him more. And soon she was unbuttoning his trousers and bunching up her sweatshirt- that was actually his- around her waist, rolling her hips against him until she was panting out his name, gripping the back of the armchair so hard she was surprised she didn’t splinter the wooden frame.

They stayed on the armchair even after Remus had cleaned them up, trying to keep the warmth of the fire in her body, trying to share Remus’ own body heat.

" Remus " she said when she was certain he was just dropping off, her head against his chest. Heading his heart beating felt like home. The familiar sound she had so often fallen asleep to. Comforting.

" I know. This isn't you forgiving me " he mumbled, hurt tinging his words.

" actually I was going to say that I love you "

" oh. Oh right... I love you too. You know I do " his arms tightened slightly around her and she let herself calm to the sound of his heart. She waited again until she felt him slackening with sleep to speak again, a slight mischief in her tone.

" oh and Remus? This isn't me forgiving you "

[sendyefrogs]

saudade

a/n: WELL. im back! *confetti pops out*. i mean, kinda hehe, apologies im absolutely swamped with school and my degrading mental health :). n e way, this is LONG, because i’ve missed writing a lot <3  wrote this for @sykuui, this is long overdue babe tw: verbal and (probably) physical abuse, kuroo just being a gigantic dick, dont come after me pls ily, cheating, swearing word count: 2K (word vomit ;-;) pairing: kuroo x gn!reader genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person)

What keeps you up at night?

Gentle snores, his soft hair brushing your arm, muffled breaths reminding you that the world knew not of the Kuroo that slept by you at night, unburdened by the worldly dilemmas. For just a few hours every night, he was yours, through and through, in your arms while the clouds drifted across the jet black sky with no destination, and the moment seemed to freeze.

Love, love for Tetsuro, is what kept you up, and it would never have once crossed your naïve mind that love is what would break you, keeping you up, not for the love you felt, but the love that was torn from you.

Simple signs would not tell you what happened, it came crashing down on you all too quick, for he was proficient at hiding it, behind his caring smiles and affectionate touches. His love wasn’t as pure as yours, he did not yearn for you as you did for him, and it showed, eventually enough. The cracks in the relationship built up gradually, slowly but prominently, too wide for either to bandage up alone, and that is how you found yourselves; alone.

He did try to provide for the both of you as best he could, being the sole income earner, and it didn’t always end well when you expressed that maybe he was too occupied by his office for your liking, unable to care for you as he once did throughout high school, when he was attentive to you no matter when you beckoned.

“Tetsuro, welcome home!” You’ve had a long day and not nearly enough time with your husband, deprived of his peppering kisses and gentle strokes of your hair. You get neither, receiving just a simple grunt, and it is clear he has had a grueling time as well. “Dinner is ready when you want it.” He nods slightly, not making eye contact with you yet, his hair appearing even less groomed than usual. You stand on your tip toes to kiss his forehead, but he shoves you away, harder than playful, glaring at you.

Maybe it’s just weariness, but he makes no attempt to apologize. You blink back the sting of tears, walking towards the kitchen to serve the food that you had learnt to make for him. He’s just tired. I’m sure he didn’t mean to push me away. That was the first tear, in the loosely woven fabric that was your relationship, that began as high school sweethearts but was now, you realized only later, becoming too stifling for Tetsuro.

The steam rose of the bowl of rice and curry, curling around your jawline as you carried it to the tall figure seated at the table, with his head in his palms. “Do you want to talk now, baby?” Your question is only answered with another sound of fatigue. You seat yourself beside him, curling your arms around his bicep, watching him lift the spoon to his mouth, trying to make him comfortable. You wanted to show him that you’d be there when he wanted to share his exhaustion with you, never occurring to you that maybe, it was exhaustion of you that plagued Tetsuro’s mind.

“Y/n, can you please be quiet for once?” It was barely a whisper; you weren’t sure if you heard him right.

“Huh?”

“Just shut up for once, god.” The tears stung again. What was with him today? He seemed genuinely mad, but you didn’t know what you had done to make him behave like this.

Little did you know, it wasn’t actually you, but the idea of you. Kuroo had grown to be frustrated with his daily routine, tired that every day was the same, that his life had lost that spark it had when he peaked in high school, your presence monotonous and the marriage empty. He didn’t want it.

“Tetsuro, why would you-?” His hand swiped out, knocking the bowl off the table, a gasp erupting from your mouth. In that moment, all you can think about is to get as far away from him as possible. There is an uncharacteristic bitterness in his eyes, directed towards you as you lie in his line of vision. You flinch as he raises his hand to run fingers through his hair. Without a second thought, he spits his frustration out at you.

“Y/n, I’ve had a long fucking day, and I don’t need you to make it even worse with your constant questioning.” The chair slides back with a scrape, not unlike the scrape of his words against your soul. There is, and always has been, an insecurity bubbling away in you that maybe you aren’t good enough for Tetsuro, maybe he deserves better, maybe you are too overwhelming for the calm male that now stands enraged in front of you.

“You need to learn to shut the fuck up sometimes, because no one wants to listen to your endless whining. I get it, you need constant reassurance that you’re the perfect partner, but I couldn’t be fucking bothered. And you sure aren’t perfect with how clingy you’re being right now. So shut up, and leave me alone.”

Kuroo knocks over a jug of water on his way out, slamming the door over the sound of it shattering as your sobs rack through your body, dry but hard enough to hurt.

Being furious wasn’t a thought that occurred to you, and whether this was his fault made no difference, because it was yourself you blamed when you found him the next day, with his secretary, the bento lunch you had packed him, to resolve the night’s arguments, spilled over the wooden floor, much like the shattered pieces of your heart.

What broke you, was that there was no chase; Tetsuro didn’t come after you, didn’t try to convince you to stay, didn’t try to explain that this was a mistake, didn’t even try to salvage a nine-year long relationship that he tossed out the window of his high-rise office building, not a single second glance back at the spouse that had supported him through his struggles, through thick and through thin, comforting him when things got tough, consoling him as he lost matches, lost money, lost old friends.

Gratitude wasn’t something he had ever considered. You were always there after all, there to ensure that he was happy, that he was content with his unchanging life, the responsibility of being his unpredictable little spark of excitement weighing down on you.

You were gone that night, with hurriedly packed bags, worn out spirit and tears streaming down your face, sparkling as they dripping onto the marbled floor, sparkling like the diamond of your wedding ring that you left behind on the counter top, with one last admiring glance. It was worth a lot, but not enough for what you were being put through. And recognition of that fact is what liberated you, to start your own life, without a Kuroo Tetsuro.

What keeps you up at night?

Y/n. Bubbling laughter and affectionate aura. Everything that was gone, that now made Kuroo’s life… empty; as empty as he had left the relationship, as empty as the void that was once filled with y/n’s warm smiles, that he now attempted to fill with anyone who would throw themselves at him.

A different face to wake up to everyday, but none of them yours, the only one he longed to see, heart aching as though it might burst out of his chest to find its rightful place with you.

The day after you left, he had had no idea that his life would crumble without you, the backbone around which he organized his life, the foundation for his happiness. He knew it was unfair to put the expectation of his functioning on you, but he did it anyway, and without you, he couldn’t wrap his head around the concept that was independence.

“Tetsuro”, his seventh secretary in two months waltzed into the room, carrying a stack of files, discovering him with his head in his hands, glaring up at the one who dared use the name that you had so loving adorned upon him, the word only perfect on your tongue. “Do you want me to spend the night again? You seem tense.”

Kuroo growled, at the audacity they had, suggesting that they were even worth attempting to comfort him like you did. With a swipe of his hands, he knocked the files off the table, standing up to spit his frustrations out at the secretary.

But one glance at the look of apprehension on their face made him buckle, reminding him of the very last night he spent with you, broken jug, bowl of curried rice upside down on the floor. You; cowering from him, frightened of what he would do to you, flinching as he raised his hand.

Dry choking sobs left his mouth, you were afraid of him, the person you had loved more than life itself, given up everything to make happy, and he had never even uttered a word of gratefulness.

Realization engulfed him, leaving him on his knees. He hadn’t shown you how much he loved you, forgetting or simply just ignoring you.

No wonder you were gone, because what was there to stay for, in the dead-end life that you lived, without a loving husband or self-contentment? What had he done? Why had you stayed for so long?

Why had you stayed up all those nights for him?

Tetsuro never could forget about you, the absence of you gnawing away at him, slowly taking over his life. The final straw that broke him irreparably was you, at the national volleyball match that you attended, not for him, but as a sports reporter, beaming in pride in your professional outfit.

Your independence is what did it, because if you could live without him, it mean you would never return. And why should you, after everything he had done, why should you when you had finally found yourself, why should you when there was nothing to return to?

His eyes followed you around, trying to take in as much of you as he could. Interviewing people, smiling at them, the warm smile that was once only for him. Suddenly, your eyes locked, and he froze, standing close enough to see the hurt swim in yours as you lay them upon him, and the moment was over just as quickly as it began.

“Hajime!” What? Why were you yelling out his name, jumping into his arms, fondly glancing up at him with that adoring look, completely forgetting about the one man that had been missing you for so long? Why weren’t you running back to him instantly? Did you not love him?

But Kuroo knew the truth.

You did love him, just, not anymore. He had lost you the second he took you for granted. And he wanted to yell that he would never do it again, come back to him, please just stay with him, he will always love you.

He couldn’t. The beam reaching from end to end of your glowing face, words bubbling over as Iwaizumi held you close, it was too bright to interrupt. The sparkle in your eyes not unlike the diamond that sparkled on your wedding ring, the one he still kept in his pocket, in hope that you would one day, return to him, forgive him, love him again. But-

Kuroo knew that he didn’t keep you up at night anymore.

[urlocalnctstan]

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚄𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 - 𝙹.𝚂𝙶

• Candy Hearts Collab - @127-mile​

Prompt : “I came to say goodbye.”

Genre : Angst, Fluff, kinda Slow-burnish?, Slice of life, highschool + college AU

Pairing : Sungchan X Reader (Ft. Jeno)

Warning(s) : mentions of bullying and injury (like one scene only), unrequited love, mentions of slight anxiety, hormonal shifts, language, minor character death

Writing nets : @kdiarynet​ @k-dinernet​ @kpopscape​ @czennienet​ @neoturtles​

Taglist : @eh-ovo-nctu​

WC : 9.7k

Summary : What people hated the most is the very word ‘goodbye’. However, it’s the very word that becomes something that you yearn to hear from Sungchan for years.

→ Playlist [recommended]

The sound of the rain was supposed to calm you down, not make you even more anxious and sweaty and you sat with your legs firmly pressed against each other, hoping to fill in the lack of company you were feeling amongst the swarm of people who perhaps shared the same dreams, same aim as yours. Public places as trains, trams, bus stops; you always thought they portrayed as the perfect definition for the word ‘sonder.’ Each individual having a life pretty much as complex as yours — sometimes a little less or sometimes a little more. It fascinated you.

“Do you think the trip is worth it?” Lee Jeno, your best friend of quite a few years puffs his cheeks as he stared dubiously at the red and white poster he held. You took a peek at it, the amount of times Jeno had been pestering you if he should really give up the money he had saved for PS5 as a sacrifice for this trip, it was safe enough for you to say that you had every words printed on it memorized. Well, maybe not every words but the main stuff at least.

“Lee Jeno,” You sharply gawked at the male sitting beside you, earning an ugly grimace from him. “Stop it already. I don’t know about you but I ain’t passing this chance.”

“Wah, what a nice friend I got.” You failed to notice the dramatic eye roll he makes before shoving the poster in his backpack, the one he had been using since the first day you had befriended him. Was it 5 years? 6 years?

“Are we five years or six years?” But I met him on that bookstore down my neighborhood, that was like spring of 2017 and now it’s 2021.

The male let out a snort.  “If I am a five year-old then you are definitely still inside the womb.” Even though he was smiling with that ‘innocent eye smile’ the evil smirk sheathed beneath went unnoticed by you. No sooner had he opened his mouth, a fresh harsh smack landed on his arms that were clad in a filmsy material of cotton and thus a silent yelp of pain escaping from him as he grabbed the area which was starting to sting with each passing second. The smack, albeit meant for him, you were unable to ignore the similar stinging pain in your palm, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. But you made sure to show absolutely no signs of distress; it was somewhat a matter of childish pride for you.

“Change your career aim from a perfumist to an assassinator will you?” If it were the campus grounds, you two would have already been latched at one another throats; both metaphorically and literally.

“I will gladly not.” You huffed at the male whose eyes held a scornful gaze, now even more annoyed or perhaps, as you would think most of the times, he was just exaggerating. You found yourself mindlessly scrolling through your gallery in search of the recent notes from Mr. Kim’s classes. Until you stumble across something you had been long avoiding, a forlorn fragment from the former days of your high school.

“Here lies the proof of my utmost love and affection, always devoted to my only Y/N.”

It was a picture of you smiling way too bright, cheeks and nose flushed red while being squished by the only male in the frame as he pressed a peck against your cheek. His neck was craned to the side, ripe ears clearly visible in the small Polaroid film. As much as you hated to admit, your heart would still make flips and turns whenever you run into something that reminded you of him, your very first love and first heart break—Jung Sungchan.

Jeno was too busy in his dreamland as he dozed off with his head resting peacefully against your shoulder. It was no new news that the lad had been immensely in love with you ever since the first time you saved him from getting bullied back in 9th grade. However, you were always too busy with your academics and extra-curricular activities and thus clearly drawing a line of only being friends. Nothing else. It happened when Jeno had finally mustered up the courage after excelling in his Maths Olympiad, where he made a bet that if he indeed secures a place in the top 5, you have to abide by anything he wishes for. But he wished for your love, something you were not really capable of doing so; especially at that time. You did not have the heart to say no when Jeno jogged up to you, his eyes transforming into crescents as he smiled wide. “I did it!” His words came out rather breathy, possibly because of him running to you, and maybe because how hard he could feel his heart thump against his ribs when he noticed the proud grin on your face. Without wasting any moment further, Jeno lets go of the white banner of achievement he had been holding, his hands now focusing on yours. You could almost feel the slight tremble and the wetness of his sweaty palms, but before you could even say anything he beat to you by saying, “Go out on a date with me. Only one.”

There were numerous times when you felt guilty about turning down Jeno. At times it had you baffled that why a guy like him would ever bother liking you so much. Jeno was incredibly talented; gifted with unfair boon of genius traits in both academics and athletics. His little version of him always demeaned his abilities, often failing to notice that how much more he was rather than just a quiet kid who loved coding and maths. Maybe perhaps that was the very reason for him to face the bullying, at least that’s what you thought when you first noticed him getting cornered by some stupid idiot dipshits from your class during recess. Jeno’s ID card lay discarded on the ground, as Kihyun grabbed its owner by the collar. You could not understand his reason for not fighting back, and thus being a silent spectator was never your thing so you decided to butt in. As much as you equally hated and liked one thing, boys seemed to get kinda wary of your presence. Especially boys like these who were already in the blacklist of the teachers. It did not take them long to pick their asses and run from the site when you glared them with a threatening gaze, a single word from the class president and they would get suspended yet again for the umpteenth time in the year. You crouched down to Jeno’s level, carefully handing him his ID. You did not bother asking him if he was okay, of course he wasn’t. His face showed signs of previous injuries, the purple hues of bruises slightly fading beside his jaws. You still don’t know why but you felt the need to protect him from his solace, thus leading to this inseparable bond of yours.

But that was a version of him that was long forgotten. Jeno had become the star and face of the school in the last years of your highschool. Acing various quiz competitions, Olympiads, getting highest grades, being the captain of the soccer and basketball team; you were sure God really had His favorites.

You were not surprised when Jeno brought you to your usual favourite—candle shop. It was a hidden gem in your hometown, a small secluded shop located just a few miles away from the metropolitan. Not everyone was aware of its existence until that one day you decided to act rebellious for once in your school life. Of course dragging Jeno into this so called rebel act with you. The date was rather casual, just two friends messing around with wax and chemically named perfume essences. The shop was owned by a lady close to your grandma’s age, and it still makes you wonder how on earth was she able to keep up with the hollering you two were making. No matter how much you convinced yourself that maybe you could give the boy a chance, and perhaps feelings might grow on you later on; you could not make yourself cloud your rationality with the uncertain possibilities. You confessed every single thing that had been on your mind and Jeno just calmly listened to everything you uttered. You could clearly see the expression of hurt washing over his face, but he knew you. He knew that once you had made up your mind, there was no going back. The night did not cause any indifference in your friendship; it bloomed with each passing years of your middle school and then highschool. You two had become the infamous bestfriends, the once timid boy then all buff and handsome and the once spotlight lover girl then buried in her textbooks to pass the college entrance exams.

Throughout these years of teen, the candle shop had become a constant place for anything to you both; sadness, comfort or just enjoyable times. Until that one day when you met the grandson of the lady who owned the shop. Make a guess who it was.

When people spoke of their first heartbreak, you always cringed at how they exaggerated. Technically you never experienced one, so it seemed ridiculous to you that how was it possible to a simple break to cause others this much pain. You were shocked, no scratch that. Using fancy words, you were utterly bewildered when you saw the new transfer student—Jung Sungchan was the name, standing on the makeshift podium of your classroom. Thank God the architects decided to stick to keeping the height of the room above eight feet. You had changed drastically, contrasting your previous bubbly persona, you had become more reserved. It was just you being ambitious about something you had grown to like, and after some backstabs from your friends, you did not feel the need to have so many around you. Just Jeno being there for you was more than enough.

It would be a lie if Jeno did not sense the subtle looks you had been sending over to the new guy, but he was in no place to object you. It had only been a few moments of Sungchan’s arrival and Jeno already sensed his position in your life being threatened. He knew you were a saint who always looked out for others, and something about his presence made Jeno feel wary. Jeno did not need any of the privileges he had, all of it he owed to you after all. It was you who brought the best out of him, and in the end if he has them all but not you, it wasn’t clearly worth it to him. You preferred unpredictable things; it was what he learned about you in all your years of friendship. How you would always choose mystery thrillers over typical rom-coms, how you would always vouch for the new dish in the menu every time you both visited the local barbecue house. And he knew it was impossible to be one like that, it was just typical Taurus things (as he would like to blame) that made him too practical, too predictable for you. But, you never thought like that. It was just that even though you wanted to, you couldn’t make yourself grow romantic towards the boy you always shared your oreos and ramen with. He held a dear place in your heart and life.

Sungchan was immediately welcomed to the family, the girls already swooning over his good looks and amazing grades. Plus icing on the top, he was the half-brother of the infamous Jung Yoonoh, the heartthrob of the whole school, from juniors to seniors. While Jaehyun was the typical definition of being that one dude we always see in rom-coms who is loved and admired by all for his too humble personality and ethics, Sungchan on the other hand was more of a quiet one, often too shy properly open up his orginal self around new environment. Despite that, he was naturally amiable just like his brother, a trait that perhaps ran in the Jung household. Unlike Jaehyun who was presumably born with good brains, Sungchan was a hardworking one. Sungchan tried to settle down the queasy feeling he had been feeling ever since he moved back here, now that Jaehyun was always busy in Seoul with his medical degree someone had to look after their aging grandma. Sungchan was never really a part of any group, so leaving behind his school back in the city was not that painful for him. The atmosphere of the whole campus was pretty soothing; the bushes of neatly trimmed trees, big huge playground and the ochre shaded building. He liked all of it, and to top it all the uniform was really his style: solid crème and dark maroon combination.

When Sungchan stood awkwardly in the middle of the classroom, clearly clueless as to where he would be seating since all the seats were occupied, a soft voice called out his name rather eagerly. His eyes scanned for a while until he saw you; dark hair tied up neatly into a ponytail with a pencil in your hand as you waved him to notice the empty seat beside yours. Sungchan smiled at your sweet gesture, his out of place feeling now subsiding into the warmth of the possible blooming friendship.

“Hi there, I am Y/N.” You chirped, wiping your left hand before bringing it out for him to shake. Sungchan froze for a while before he realized what he was supposed to be doing. “Oh! And this is Jeno!” You turned slightly towards your best friend sitting just behind you with his famous eye smile.

“Hello, I am Jung Sungchan.” He returned the gesture shaking both your and Jeno’s hand. Whilst Jeno had the feeling of roughness and athleticism in his, your hands were warm and soft; it felt nice he thought. That was the first impression of yours to him: ball of sunshine. And your impression of him? Reserved and unpredictable; a combination that only meant chaos and imbalance.

Sungchan side-glanced at your fumbling state. Seating next to him you in the front row, you skimmed over your not so pleasant looking notes that you had scribbled anxiously in the prior night. Public speaking had never been a big deal for you once you get adjusted to the audience after going up on stage. However, it is the pre anxiety session that just always riles you up.

“You know,” Your head whipped a bit too fast to your liking at the voice belonging to the only male that sat beside you. “I’ll show you a trick. Here.” Sungchan proceeded to softly place your trembling hands on his, cautiousness apparent with every move he made. Even though you both had been seatmates for the last three months, you never found yourself involved in any sort of skinship with him; something that was really common for you and Jeno. The look of fluster was way too obvious when Sungchan softly rubbed various shapes on the back of your hand with his thumb, you were unsure if he was actually helping you ease from nervousness or just increasing it further. It had quite been a while since you had your hands caged in his, both of you completely unaware of the looks you had been getting from your senior teachers seated in the neighboring row. The moment was cut off when your name was announced from the stage by a senior, requesting your presence to commence your speech. Sungchan slowly lets go of your hands, mumbling a soft ‘best of luck!’ with his hands now fisted as an act of verbal encouragement. You eyes wandered around the crowd for a while before locating your best friend who sat miserably beside the homeroom teacher, really closing to dozing off before noticing your presence and copying Sungchan’s gestures.

The bus paused, Jeno still deep in his slumber despite the harsh jerk of the vehicle stopping in its tracks. You sighed, he must have probably been gaming the whole night with his roommate Donghyuck again. You nudged softly at first, the lack of response later than causing you to shake him vigorously by his toned arms that barely fit in your palms. Jeno instantly sprinted up with wide eyes before softly muttering a curse at your cruel way of waking him up.

“I was definitely right about you being a torturer in your previous life.”

“Sure you were. Get your ass off the bus now.”

You parted your ways with Jeno on the campus ground, him heading to his coding facult while you headed towards the chemistry club room. Apparently a newbie was supposed to come today from the US. It was odd you assumed since US had much better facilities for students majoring in chemistry. You glanced at your figure on your way to the room, wondering if the ripped jeans were a good choice as a first impression. You just disliked the idea of leaving off bad impressions, even if you are never going to meet the person again until your next life. Jaemin, another close friend of both you and Jeno smiled widely at your entrance, waving his hand as he pointed the seat next to him enthusiastically. Jaemin and you were basically clones of each other, the leos inside of you both shinig at its best whenever you two are together.

“I don’t understand why move back here from THE United States.” Jaemin dragged out the word, scoffing silently as he handed you a cup of iced Americano. You were about to sip before pausing. You could not have possibly risked your stomach again after that one fateful day when you tasted ‘his type’ of iced Americano. This dude legit gulped down eight espresso shots with a satisfied hum, horrified looks painted on your and Jeno’s features as you both just stared at him in utter shock.

“Please not the poisonous drink.” You eyed the male suspiciously, who scoffed at the nickname.

“Of couse not little baby.” Jaemin cooed with his lips puckered and an annoying high pitched voice, purposefully pinching your cheeks a bit harder than he usually does.

 “You little moth-”

“Hello guys, I am Sungchan. Nice to meet you all.” Your heart dropped at the familiar tone of voice. He isn’t possibly back again after leaving without any traces, without a single goodbye, is he? You did not dare to look at his figure standing in front of the table, awkwardly shifting in your seat while Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Hello, Sungchan.” Sulli, your senior by 2 years and also the president of the club greeted him warmly. “I hope you like it here because adjusting to a new place might be hard at times. Oh, these are your classmates; Y/N and Jaemin.”

Sungchan immediately looked in your direction at the mention of your name, his eyes equally wide in surprise mirroring your previous reaction.

“Y/N?” He called out in a rather unsure tone, just like his movements the cautiousness was also present there. “It’s been……a while….”

“Yeah, indeed.” You had a visible change in demeanor, Jaemin finally grasping the tense situation before jogging up to the male.

“Hi there, I am Na Jaemin. You can call me Nana if you want.” Jaemin put his hand out as a formality, to which Sungchan politely complied. “There’s a seat there you can sit.” Jaemin was luckily wise enough to occupy the empty seat beside yours without knowing the turn of events. He motioned Sungchan towards the seat diagonal to you, sensing the discomfort in your posture he assumed it was best if Sungchan sat somewhat further.

Concentrating on the yearly planning for the club was harder with his presence; Sungchan unable to hide his obvious lingering gaze on you. Jaemin would cough every now and then, signaling the male to focus on the club president’s instructions instead of you. But as his usual self, Sungchan pretended to not notice the clear hints, continuing keep his eyes locked on yours. You were barely able to note down some important events, knowing that Jaemin certainly cannot be trusted with his short time memory. After that president bids her farewell to everyone present in the room, you take it as your cue to just flee as soon as possible from his reach.

“Y/N, wait!” Sungchan was quick to grab you just as you were about to exit by the door, the sudden halt in movement causing you to stumble back into his embrace awkwardly. You were definitely embarrassed, your back pressed against his chest in a weird manner as you straighten yourself again. You scrunched you nose to hide your embarrassment before asking him.

“What is it now Jung Sungchan?” You were not meaning to snap at him, but the bitter memories of the past seemed to get the best of you.

Sungchan slightly winced at your cold tone, but what else could have expected after all the pain he had caused you. “I…I do..I mean like I..”

“Sungchan, I have my classes. Gather up your thoughts and then talk.” With that you turned on your heels, not even bothering to take your bag that you left on the seat you were prior sitting. Jaemin observed the scene quietly, his minds finally connecting the dots. Jung Sungchan, the boy you would always cry about whenever you got drunk, the boy who left you with nothing but memories of him. Jaemin thought it was best to not let out his inner frustration towards the guy who was now standing motionless in his tracks, lost in his trance as he gaped towards the door you had just left. Jaemin passed by Sungchan without a word, instinctively grabbing your bag as he made his way to his next class.

Sungchan stood dumbfounded, numerous thoughts racing in his mind. Why did I have to be so foolish? He thought. How can I blame her when I was the one who broke the promise first?

 Summer 2017

It was getting pretty boring for you at the library; usually some of the classmates bickering would give you some sort of silent company as you scribble down the notes. But for some unfound reason you seemed to be extremely distracted. You let out a long annoyed huffed, hands stretching in weird directions as you rested your head on the wooden table. It struck your mind there might be butts of nails pointed out and you didn’t want to get yourself a shot of tetanus, so you lazily glided your hands across the surface before returning back to your half laying position. It didn’t take long for you to zone out, mind running through various scenarios of university life, jobs and perhaps marriage? You blushed at the thought, just like any other teen you were also low-key always looking forward to your wedding.

“Are you asleep?” You shot up startled at the sudden voice, eyes immediately widening as you realized the owner. Sungchan had a smile with his lips pressed into a thin line, casually pulling out the empty seat beside yours as he made himself comfortable on it.

“Good to know you’re not. I need your help.” Sungchan wasted no time rummaging out a stack of sheets from his backpack, pressing them against the wood with a loud thump. You slightly winced at the loudness since the library was extra quiet today, the sound thus bouncing off more.

“You know if it’s literature, I suck at it.” Your mind took you back at that one time when you almost got yourself a C on the mentioned subject, chills running down at the memory.

“No, no.” Sungchan waved his hands softly chuckling. “It’s actually chemistry. Judging as a seatmate, I believe it’s your best sport.”

You happily nodded at the male, pleased that you get to help him with something that was under your specialty. Sungchan took a notice of your happy state, equally pleased that it was you that would be helping him.

“Tell me, what can I help you with.” You took the fat book from his hold, skimming over the contents page before highlighting the topics that were extremely important for the semester.

“I think hybridization? I just can’t seem to get how it works!” Sungchan’s voice levitated suddenly out of frustration, momentarily catching you off guard. Sungchan seemed to notice your amused look, shyly rubbing the nape of his neck with a little shrug.

“You know this is the first time I’ve seen you frustrated.” You commented, eyes fixated on the pages even though they were being extremely reluctant to rather focus on the fussy male. “It’s pretty easy you know. Look.” You explained him cautiously and slowly, how the overlapping of the orbitals occurred not realizing the proximity that seemed to lessen drastically. You whipped at his direction to see any signs of confusion, only to be met with a pair of dark orbs that stared at you intently. As embarrassing as it may sound, you gulped loudly. A bit too loud than you had intended to.

Sunghcan took notice of the situation you both blanketed in as a wave of déjà vu washed over him. He cleared his throat loud and awkward, half to lessen the embarrassment you were feeling and to poorly hide his own. You both were looking everywhere but each other, too dumb to maximize the close distance instead of acting like awkward cats.

“What are you both doing?” a deep male voice jerked you back to reality, upon turning you saw it belonged to Jeno. When did he come here?

“She was explaining the hybridization shits.” Sungchan huffed, slowly settling back to his orginal position. “I asked you so many times though…”

“You know chemistry is not my cup of tea.” Jeno shrugged at the male, a lazy smile playing on his face. “You wanna stay for b-ball practice today?”

“Not sure, I’ll see to it mate.” Sungchan did that fist-bump with Jeno, the two casually mingling like old friends as you stared idiotically at the scene unfolding in front of you.

“Since when did you both become Damon and Pythias?”

“Y/N, please not again your alien languages.” Jeno rolled his eyes before taking the seat beside, sandwiching you between both the males. “Since you happen to be tutoring a clown, an addition of another clown won’t do you any harm.” Jeno smiled at you, his doe eyes disappearing in the process.

Sungchan held back his snort, looking over both of you, he was happy. Though he was not as close to you as he had become to Jeno, he still considered you somewhat a close friend of his. Being seatmates with you and Jeno, it was inevitable that he soon became a constant in your life. Did I tell you that the candle shop was owned by his grandma? The shop if anything, had become this secret spot for you three. Study dates, random chills or just lazying around, the candle shop would be the first name that would pop up in your mind. 

With a blink of an eye perhaps junior year passes. Maybe that was how last years of highschool were. At one moment you barely just got promoted to a new class, and at another, you’re yet again getting promoted to higher one. You sat under the dull moonlight, a thin cardigan that was gifted to you by your dearest friend’s grandma. When Sungchan invited you and Jeno at his, his grandma had knitted this cardigan for you and a beanie for Jeno. The gesture was so sweet that it completely melted your heart, she was the living definition of wholesome for you. 

It was maybe that one day when you three decided to stroll the spring fair of your neighborhood, when you both finally came clean to your feelings. Jeno was always the one pointing you out that how you should just be a woman and confess. “It doesn’t always have to be the guy that says I LIKE YOU!” This what we he said before disappearing into the hives of crowds, leaving you waiting for Sungchan at the front of the public toilet he was finishing his business in. Pretty awkward right? Where else does anyone get to see a girl waiting for her crush in front of a public restroom. Sungchan came back outside, shuffling out his handphone before furrowing his brows at the text he just received. You immediately understood it was from Jeno. You had no idea what came over you, it felt like the adrenaline in your system decided to flood your nervous system, not even aware of yourself just launching at the dude with a chaste kiss on his lips. He was completely taken aback by the sudden feeling of your lips on his, it took him a while before responding you back with the same enthusiasm. You broke first from the kiss, not realising your fists crunching his prior perfectly ironed shirt. But he did not mind it all, a shy smile playing on both of your faces. The rest of the night was spent with your hands laced in his, just like another high school sweethearts of the time.

You smiled at the memory. Sungchan had a cigarette lit between the tips of his fingers, the tobacco smoke slowly poking your nose but not strong enough to bother you. With a deep sigh, he took a puff before blowing it own again in the air, a cloud of smog dancing around his figure.

“You should quit it, it’s not healthy.” It had already been a year since you became friends and six months since you became more than it, but there were times like this when you still found yourself nervous and wary whenever you are talking to him. You snuggled yourself into the cardigan, hugging yourself to minimize the tinges of frostbites. Sungchan was considerate of your discomfort, whenever he smoked, he made sure the cigarette was at least 2 feet away from you. 

“Take this.” Sungchan handed you another thick layer of clothing from his bag, his initials “J.SG” written big and bold. Without much thought, you accepted his kindness, and Sungchan had high tolerance to cold anyways unlike you who would shiver to death in the most usual temperatures. You figured Sungchan decided to dodge the topic you brought it, and you figured it would be better to not bring it up for a while.

“Where do you plan on going for college.” Sungchan spoke while rubbing the shortened cigarette on the bricks of the roof, swallowing the remaining water from his bottle throwing a strawberry gum inside his mouth. You figured he was now free from the reek of tobacco as you scoot closer to his form, opening your arms within the jacket for his to snuggle in as well. Just like Jeno, skinship was no new news for you both too, however; it always had your heart racing like crazy. You both remained cozy under the warm embrace of the jacket, and you prayed Sungchan would never listen how your pulse was acting up.

“I don’t know. Perhaps SNU? I mean only if I get accepted...” You trailed off, propping your chin against your bent knees before glancing at the boy. Then it struck you, what made him ask this sudden question, what made him smoke three cigarettes straight despite having yearly break for a whole month. “Will you be going to the US as well?”

“I don’t know...” Sungchan deeply sighed, his lips forming a small pout as he indulged in deep thought. What if he actually happens to leave for America? Your heart clenched at the thought, mimicking his sighs you rested your head against his shoulder. 

“You know,” You stared at the sky, it was dark and clear with no signs of stars. The feeling was unsettling. “Wherever you go, we’ll always be there for you.” Your eyes shifted to the illuminating lights from numerous buildings that replaced the absence of the twinkling stars in the sky. The ominous feeling soon dissipated into relief. It was as if the universe telling you, we just have to look out for the good sides instead of dwelling on the bad. 

“I know.” Sungchan smiled, one that was both happy and sad. He rested his head on yours, joining your company of gazing at the scenery. “I know.”

“Just...” there was hesitation laced in your tone, Sungchan was quick to notice it as he looked at you, nodding for you to continue. “Please don’t leave...not without a goodbye. Promise me that.”

“I promise you.” Sungchan held your cold hands in his warmer ones, a firm assurance making your heart swell in both hurt and adoration as you kissed him again.

You both never really made it official, despite the kiss at the fair. It was perhaps the uncertainty that held you both back. Sungchan’s future was not in his hands but his family’s; just like his brother, he is supposed to make his family shine bright. It was one of the major reasons why his parents let both the brothers two years of freedom on their remaining bits of high school. ‘All parents want the best for their kids,’ that’s what you would always say to him whenever you meet him at his roof; him smoking while you offered his physical comfort.

The senior year passed within a whim, the fright of entering into adulthood descending upon all the students as they remained buried in their textbooks. Maybe it wasn’t the case for everyone, but it did apply to you and your friends. You remained occupied with you daily extra classes for chemistry while Sungchan had biology and Jeno had mathematics. You three would meet up in periodic breaks, catching up with small talks before returning back to your respective schedules. It was nothing but hectic, and soon, the candle shop returned back to being just another isolated shop in your hometown.

Graduation day was filled with smiles and congratulatory phrases from different individuals, throwing your grad caps in the air felt like as if you were throwing away a significant part of your life, ready to embrace a new version of you. All the parents stood their with proud grins, delighted at their children’s achievement to their dreams.

“Congratulations!” You chirped, receiving bone crushing hugs from both your males before an elderly voice called for you.

“Y/N! Jeno! Sungchan!” It was your mom, waving excitedly to grab you and the males’ attention. “Say cheese!”

“Cheese!” You all resonated together, happy and delighted.

A series of furious knocks jolted you awake from your sleep. You figured it might have been your younger brother, probably wanting your help in his homework.

“I swear to god Y/b/n!” You let out an ear piercing shout, groggily rubbing your eyes from deep slumber.

“It’s me. Jeno.” You heard how breathy his voice sounded, it was coated with urgency and hurt. You heart dropped but you prayed to the Heavens and God, you prayed that it should not be the very thing that you had been dreading so much. You shot up from your bed, not even bothering to make yourself look presentable before whipping the door open to meet with an equally dazed and riled Jeno.

“It’s Sungchan. He...” Jeno beathed out a deep sigh, before handing you a lilac envelope, the initials J.SG written in bold. You failed to feel the tears pooling up, threatening to fall anytime. Jeno glanced over you sympathetically, with shaky trembling hands, you took the the paper. 

You don’t bother to closer the door, Jeno soon taking his leave as he thought it would be best to give you some space to absorb it all in. The tears had started to stream uncontrollably when you saw the picture that came with the letter. It was one of the many pictures that you took on the night of the fair; the day you had confessed, the you had your first kiss. It was a polaroid of you holding him lovingly in an embrace, him shyly placing a kiss on your cheeks with the words ‘Here lies the proof of my utmost love and affection, always devoted to my only Y/N’ scribbled on the white frame. Your hands fished for your cellphone, frantically dialing his number as you waited for him to pick up, hoping that he’ll soothe your anxiety by saying he did not leave, that he was still in town and you were just being delusional.

But every time you dialed his contact, you were being forwarded to the monotonous tone saying that the number was currently unreachable. Your chest squeezed in pain, he had promised you. He promised you that he will come for a goodbye at least. He had promised you that he would never leave you clueless and hurting. All you ever asked for him, was just a goodbye; perhaps a source assurance for you to wait for his return. 

You wiped the tears with the edge of your sleeves, opening the the piece of folded paper.

‘Dear lovely Y/N,

You might resent me when you receive this letter, and I certainly don’t blame you for that. I am not the best with words, I am clumsy and unexpressive but I hope that this piece of scribblings makes you understand all my feelings, my thoughts and emotions that have been haunting me from the day I first saw you.

You know I that I am very much aware that I do....hold some handsome genes.’ You couldn’t help but snicker at this. 

‘However, unlike all, as typical as it may sound, you stood out. You lazily laid sprawling across your desk in deep slumber, completely unaware of the chaos of classroom. I wish I was that carefree like you, indulged in her own world and comfort bubble. It attracted me a lot.’ You got up from the floor, eyes still glued to the piece of paper as you shut your door locked. Your hands still went to dial his contact, but only to be forwarded to that damned robotic voice.

‘I wanted to be like you, not bothered by the constant pressures of coming from a prestigious family. Did I ever tell you my dad is the Director of Myeongsu Hospital?’ You gasped at the sudden information. His dad was the director of the one of the most prestigious and renowned hospitals of South Korea. It was too overwhelming for you to process, but you still found yourself continuing. 

‘It was inevitable for me to act like just another teenager, not for me but for my brother too. I always blamed him for being so selfish when he just left me alone when he came to grandma, I failed to realize that it was some sort of comfort gift from our parents so that we’ll devote ourselves to build the family’s name for the rest of our lives. 

Even though I wanna blame them, I don’t think I can because they had the same fate. It comes with a price when you’re born with a silver spoon, and I guess I had to pay mine when I left your doorstep last night. I...I was a coward. I know I should have just come up, hug you and kiss you for the last time. But I just couldn’t. I was too scared.

I was scared that the moment I’ll see you, my guards will crash down. These two days were really hectic for me, I made up excuses when you invited me at yours because I was afraid of losing my balance. I knew that only a glance at you would be enough to make me change my mind and revolt against my parents, my fate. And you have no idea how much I wanted to do so, you have no idea how I’ve spent endless of sleepless night where it is the only thing that would run on my mind. But you tell me, would it be really worth it? I did not want you spending the rest of your lives with swarming paps and reporters, publishing reports and articles of how you managed to tarnish the heir-in-line of the prestigious hospital. No I could never do to that someone I love so dearly. I could never in a thousand years do that. 

You know every time I picture you in your grown-up self, I can only see a strong and confident woman thriving in her career, a woman that is so powerful but still has a heart of gold. I know that you’ll be an amazing person, inside and out. I wasn’t really planning to express my love and admiration for you like this, I hoped to do it in person, but perhaps, maybe that’s how the stars planned it out for us. Fate is extra cruel in my case don’t you think? 

It would be extremely selfish of me to ask you to wait; I am not even sure if I would ever return because my father would be opening another branch in US. And well, I am not sure what plans he has for me.

So please, if you ever find it in your heart, I hope you will forgive me. And even if you don’t, please don’t ever feel guilty about it. You have all the right to do so and I most certainly deserve your hatred. I love you so much, Y/N. You’re my first kiss, my first love, and you’ll  always hold this irreplaceable place in my heart. 

With Love,

Jung Sungchan.

You felt your world crashing down, a part of you wished that this letter never ended. The only remain from him had also come to an end, and you were not sure how you would be able to cope with his absence for the next years of your life.

Present

“Sungchan is back?” Jeno widened his eyes in shock, the information seemingly unbelievable to him. “He really is?”

“Yes.” You monotonously replied, numerous thoughts battling at the back of your head. Jaemin cleared his throat, a sign for Jeno to not bring up the topic for a while. Jeno eyed the male in confusion before finally getting the hint.

“You’re lucky you don’t get to have Mr.Suh’s classes, he’s just hot and it’s frustrating. And that’s coming from a straight dude like me.” Jeno slurped on his smoothie loud and sound, probably to annoy the other male as he was well aware his distaste to people making sounds while eating.

“Y/N.” a voiced called out from behind, and you instantly knew who it belonged to. 

“Sungchan. Oh my god!” Jeno shot up from his seat, immediately embracing the old face from his past. “How have you been man? You just disappeared...”

“I am so sorry.” Sungchan looked at Jeno with pleading eyes. “I know I have absolutely no excuse for my act and I am just so sorry, Jeno and Y/N.” Sungchan looked at Jeno who silently urged him to talk to you.

“Y/N, please talk to me. I don’t expect your forgiveness but please. Atleast curse me, hit me just do anything. Please.”

You whipped your head to find Sungchan crouching down to match your seat level, a sigh escaping from you as you stood straight from your seat. 

“Guys, I’ll be back.” You gripped his hands before dragging him alongside the canteen corridor.

Jaemin looked over his friend who stood staring at the way you just took. And expressionless look was painted on his features, causing Jaemin to shake his head and sigh. “You know man,” Jeno changed his attention to the male speaking, fixing his glasses. “If I were you, I would have just held her back. You’re extremely strong, I could have never done that.” With that Jaemin patted his friend’s back, a silent assurance that if he needed a shoulder to cry or to simply lean on for comfort, he’ll be there for him.

A mixture of feelings were erupting inside you, you were furious but happy. Sad but grateful. You scanned the halls for signs of any empty classroom and upon finding one you just shoved the male inside it.

“What’s so funny about messing with my feelings?” You already tears welling up, your vision blurry as you sharply glance at the male with a frown on his face.

“Y/N, I would nev-”

“You left me,” you utterly hated at how pathetic you sounded at the moment, harshly wiping the tears streaming down your cheeks. “You promised me that you won’t leave without showing up one last time, but you did. You fucking did.” You knew it was not something under his control, but you couldn’t help but pour your bottled feelings.

“Please...Y/N...listen..to me...Please..” Sungchan lost his composure, his voice breaking as he stepped closer to you. Seeing how you did not flinch at his approach, Sungchan captivated you in his embrace, something that he had been yearning for ever since he parted ways. You felt the wetness of his tears on your head, melting in his longing embrace you found yourself hugging him back. You missed him so much, his scent, warmth, presence. Everything about him drove you crazy, you were still dazed to believe if he was actually back for real or is it just one of your numerous daydreams. 

The rest of the days went as usual, but only with the addition of Sungchan back again in your life. Although you had long forgiven him in his heart, you decided to not vocal it out. As heartless as it may sound, you wanted him to make up for the pain he caused you, and he indeed did. Jaemin was skeptical in the beginning at the idea of another person joining you small group, he had come to liking the idea of you guys as trio and was more comfortable like that. But he saw how your eyes lit up every time you about him when you were newly friends with Jaemin, how Jeno would always drunk talk about the times they passed as seatmates bothering the hell out of you. So Jaemin broke his exterior cold composure on the fourth day, finally accepting the banana milk from the new male as a form of bribe for his addition to the group.

Sungchan worked harder than deities; always making sure to get you Americanos before your classes, taking extra notes for you whenever you felt sick, tolerating your extremely drunk self and even dropping you back at your dorms safely. He had mentioned how he finally mustered up the courage to stand up against his fathers, that he wanted to do something else rather than working in the medical field. Even though he had still yet to decided his desired career, Sungchan decided to just follow his intuitions which ended up him taking chemistry as his major and thus landing in the same institution and same class as yours. And not to mention, he was beyond grateful for it.

A month had passed with his arrival, the awkwardness amongst everyone long gone and forgotten. It was as if he never left you. You were never over him, so his all time sweet gestures was making it harder for you to maintain your cold act.

“I happened to attempt making kimbap? But I am not sure if they are edible..” Sungchan trailed off as he hesitantly hands you the small metal box. You almost laughed at how cute but messy they looked, his failed attempt at giving the rolls eyes and lips with sesame seeds and ketchup was beyond adorable. You took the box from his grasp, a smile playing on your face as you looked at him. Sungchan upon noticing your grin, rubbed the nap of his neck shyly, his ears and cheeks mirror the shade the of the ketchup. You took a bite from one of the many rolls he made, a hum of satisfaction escaping your lips as you relished the tangy sweet taste. It was perfect, just how you preferred it.

“It’s pretty good.” You licked the stain of ketchup from your fingers, failing to notice how the male blushed harder at your subtle act. “We have Mr.Lee’s class, so I believe we should hurry up before it’s too late.”

On the night of the annual university carnival, Sungchan confessed to you. At least not in front of a public washroom this time. With the constant aid of Jeno and Jaemin, Sungchan was able to plan out a pretty dramatic confession for you. You were completely surprised when Jaemin called you out of nowhere, frantically asking for your presence to a specific classroom. You feared if the dork had committed some sort of treason explaining how dramatic he sounded, so you rushed without giving any second thoughts. However, when you saw the trail of roses with candles adorning the edges, you froze. It had the same scent both you and Sungchan had invented; the sweet scent of lily with tinges of tangerine to it.

A flustered looking Sungchan steps out from the dark, his hands rest behind his back as you cautiously scanned your face. When he saw no signs of discomfort, Sungchan slowly jogged to where you stood, his hands holding a bouquet of lilies with a small note on top of it.

“I know I have made tons of mistakes, hurt you so many times. But I still want to test my luck.” Sungchan got down on his knees, holding the bouquet with his head hanging low. “Y/L/N, will you allow me to be your man? Will you be my girlfriend?”

A shit eating grin spread on your face, slightly giggling at how adorable he looked. “I thought you’d never ask.” You took the flowers, a soft smile adorning your lips as you lock eyes with an extremely surprised Sungchan. “Of course Sungchan.”

“Of course? For real?” Sungchan couldn’t believe what just happened, he was half expecting you to flat out reject him at how inconsiderate he had been. But you accepted his apology, accepted his love. Sungchan stood up, his heart squeezing in delight and adoration for you. He cupped your face gently, as if you were a porcelain doll that would just break if not handled carefully. You saw how his eyes shone with love, sparkling brightly on the soft light from the lighted candles and you swore you never felt so much before for anyone else as much as you felt for him. Sungchan closed the proximity, his nose slight touching yours as he rested his forehead against yours, the smiling never for once leaving his face. 

The tension was building up with each passing second, the sounds of your heavy breathing being the only silence breaker. You got impatient, the feeling of his lush lips got you being greedy as you closed the distance standing on your tip-toes, momentarily catching him off the grid before receiving the same attention back. You gripped on his shirt, too unbothered to break the kiss despite losing your breath. He paused for a moment, panting before pulling you back under his spell. The bottled feelings and emotions of longing and pining for each other were poured into the this sweet shared moment of yours. You were grateful that the whole building had no signs of any lurking students and professors, what was supposed to be a innocent make-up kiss soon transformed into a heated one as he held you by your waist, pinning you against the wall with his lips still attached to yours.

You pulled back for the heavy make-out session, almost earning a whine from the male before you soothed him with you words that came next. “I love you.”

 Sungchan felt his already beating heart pick up its pace, becoming hastier that he was low-key afraid if he might face a stroke anytime. With a loving grin, he looked back at you who was still caged in his arms. He tucked the stray of hair brushing across the sides of your face from the soft breeze entering the windows, the illuminating yellow hues from the candles making you look like a dream. A dream that seemed unattainable to him until this very moment.

“I love you so so much. Thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance to prove myself, to allow me to show you my feelings, Y/N.” He was breathless, he felt so many emotions at that moment when you glanced at him loving. He was afraid his pulse might stop any moment, so he kissed you back, but now filled with passion and desire. And let’s just say, one of your fantasies were fulfilled that night.

The news of his grandma passing away came after a few months when you both had officially started dating. Both the Jungs were extremely close to her, so when Jaehyun took her back to Myeongsu Hospital where he was currently the chief of neurology, her condition was inevitable. Jaehyun hoped that maybe she might get to spend more time on earth under his care, but he too was victim in the cruel hands of destiny. Sungchan rushed to your dorm, bloodshot eyes as he told you the news. You found yourself sobbing alongside him, tenderly keeping him embraced in your warmth as you shared his pain. You knew her personally as well, all the moments spent with her were a profound favorite part of teen years. 

“I wanted to meet you before I leave for Seoul. I came to say a goodbye.” Sungchan sniffed, his hands wiping away the streams of water rolling down your face. You smiled at his concern, mimicking his actions you brushed his sweaty bangs away from his forehead before placing a soft peck against it.

“It’s okay. Don’t tell me goodbyes anymore...for I know you’ll always come back to me.”

Epilogue

Sungchan fumbled with his tie nervously, bile reaching up his throat as the worst scenarios flooded his brains. His eyes frantically looked around for help, making a bow-tie was just not his cup of his. A breath of relief escapes his lips when his eyes landed on his closest beloved friend Jeno. Jeno stood leaning against the door frame, an amused grin painting his sharp features as he walked to the struggling male.

“Bro...” Sungchan huffed pleadingly, a pout forming his eyes.

“Yes bro.” Jeno flashed him an eye roll, before having the same eye smile again as he fixed his friend’s tie. After all, it was a big event for him.

To say the least, you looked breathtaking in your white laced gown. The simplicity of the dress made you look more elegant, it enhanced your natural beauty and Sungchan couldn’t just tear his eyes away from your form. It was supposed to be the bride’s day, but to him you shone the brightest.

“You know it’s me getting married, but the new comers might assume it’s you considering how you are gaping at y/n shamelessly.” Jaehyun hissed to his best man, earning a scoff from Sungchan.

“Hyung, let me have my moment! Please.” Sungchan whined but was careful to tone it down, only to receive a slight nudge from the groom who chuckled at his antics. 

The wedding was glamorous, elegant, anything that could be named as a dream wedding. Sungchan remained glued beside you the whole night, a proud grin on his face every time he was asked about the lady whose arms laid locked with his. With a smug look, he would rub on their faces that you were his girlfriend, especially exaggerating to the males who seemed to had their eyes on you. You both enjoyed the silent company of each other, the soothing sounds of the wind replacing the absence of music as Sungchan drove you back to your place, hands still intertwined. When he came in front of your shared apartment, he fidgeted in his seat nervously; fishing out something from his coat. 

You figured it was another one of his endless gifts, so you just smiled with your back resting against the cushion seat of the car. 

“Sungchan, you really need to-”

A throat seering stopped you in the midst of speaking, your eyes widening when you realized what the purple velvet box might contain. Sungchan let out breaths of nervousness, blowing out some air out of his lungs to lessen the feeling of anxiety as he looked at you, eyes as genuine as ever.

“Y/N, I don’t believe in fancy proposals as you know. It is an intimate moment for us so I want it to happen in the presence of only us.” Sungchan stuttered in the middle as he opened the box, revealing an extremely gorgeous but simple plated band with a small stone adorning the top perfectly.

“So will you marry me?”

You stared at the male dumbfounded. Your eyes refused to believe the scene in front of you, hearts doing numerous flips and turns and it was just hard to explain all the feelings you were feeling. Sungchan had always been the one for you, and even though not everyone gets to have a happy ending with their first love, you were beyond grateful that you had happened to fall in the rare probability.

“I...OF COURSE. OF COURSE I WILL.” You yelped in delight, shoving your hand in front of his face as he just laughed while placing the ring on your finger. It fit perfectly. You grabbed him by the collar and kissed him with your overpowering passion and love, not realizing how if continued any longer, you guys might have to pay a fine for parking on the wrong side. So without wasting any time further, you both hauled yourselves to your apartment, refusing to break the contact of your lips molded perfectly together on your way. In short, let’s just say ‘sweet innocent kiss transformed into a heated one’ yet again.

© urlocalnctstan 2021

I went completely overboard with this. I am so sorry if it didn’t turn up as you had expected it to, and honestly I am not completely pleased with it either. I felt like it could’ve been better in terms of expressing emotions. However, improvement is a never ending proccess and im still learning. SO TO WHOEVER WHO HAPPENED TO MAKE THIS TILL HERE. I LOVE YOU SODIJMS YOU DONT KNOW HOW MUCH IT MEANS TO ME. 

Feedbacks and criticisms are always appreciated! Please care to leave them as it may help me potentially grow as a writer. Thank you for sparing your time to read my piece of work.

with love,

Hana.

[wakatvshi]

late nights | jean kirstein x reader pt. 2

warnings: canon typical violence

word count: 1644

gif credit: on gif

authors note: part 2 of this story! the next part will come out after the update on my bertholdt fic! i really hope you enjoy this fic because I’ve worked hard on it!

summary: your progressing relationship with jean told through nights you spend together from marco’s death to the attack on marley. all of the ups and downs of life.

read part one here. 

Since joining the Scouts nothing had gone right, it was a constant string of death and destruction. You’d known that though, you knew what the Scouts were. Commander Erwin didn’t hold anything back when he told you all what you would be facing. Even before that you knew the pain of the Scouts. Your father had been one and he’d died. So you knew it could be hell. But your first actual mission being against the female titan, against Annie, that wasn’t something you could have ever expected.  

After the battle Annie had gone into some crystal and you lost her, the whole battle and loss of life was basically useless. There were positives in the situation, the Female Titan was under lock but it wasn’t enough for the MP’s. They were angry at Commander Erwin and to a point you understood, but no one but the Scouts seemed to understand the severity of what she was, what she’d done. How they were so detached from everything you couldn’t understand. There were talks happening now but what those were you weren’t privy to. 

The best way you knew to take out your frustration was to train. Mikasa had agreed to help you with some hand-to-hand training and since Eren was meeting with Commander Erwin right now she didn’t have anything else to do. Of course she was winning, you knew she would when you asked but it was good training. Mostly just dodging and working on endurance for you. 

Putting your hands on your knees you caught your breath as Mikasa rubbed her shoulder, “Okay. I think I’m going to give.” You were laughing but your lungs had a slight burn to them. There was always such a difference in training in the field and training like this. “Next time I’m asking Sasha, maybe she’ll pull punches.” You laughed. 

A small smile was on Mikasa’s face when you stood up, “You would have been angry if I’d have done that.” She was right, “We’ve been at it for over an hour. I should see if Eren is back.” She was right about the time, you hadn’t realized it until you noticed the sun was setting. 

She grabbed her shirt and pulled it back on, you’d both have to shower later but right now she was more interested in finding Eren and Armin. Sasha and Connie were heading out tomorrow so they were already sleeping, so you’d probably just head to the shower. Taking the towel she offered you, you wrapped it around your shoulders. It was your idea to train so you’d make sure everything was cleaned up, you couldn’t imagine how angry Captain Levi would be if he found out you guys made a mess and left it. 

When the door opened you both turned around and saw Jean was standing in the doorway. He looked at you for a second before his eyes quickly went to Mikasa. You felt a sting when he looked at her. For a long time you tried to deny the fact that you did like him, he’d liked Mikasa since the first day he saw her and that didn’t really leave any room for your feelings. You respected that, if he didn’t think of you like that it was fine. Jean was still one of your best friends and so was Mikasa. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when it was so clearly in front of you that you weren’t the one he wanted. 

Forcing yourself to look away from him when Mikasa walked out you focused on trying to clean up what mess you guys had made. It wasn’t much, but things were out of order and that would cause issues. Focusing on something for a few minutes would help you get over the moment of jealousy. You felt bad about it, Mikasa hadn’t done anything, honestly you were surprised more people weren’t tripping over themselves to be near her. Still there were a few times you just wished you could be in her shoes, like when Jean forgot what he was saying because she walked into a room. 

Before you finished you let out a huff realizing he was just standing there. “Did you need something?” You hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, you cursed yourself for not waiting until you were sure you had the jealous part of your brain shut off. Jean still had a pink tinge to his cheeks when you looked at him and for a moment he looked confused. “Jean?” 

“Oh. Yeah, I just uh...” He cleared his throat rubbing the back of his neck, he was still blushing. “I just wanted to check on you. I know you got thrown by Ann- the Female Titan.” So he couldn’t call her by her name either. “I didn’t think you were supposed to be exerting yourself this soon.” 

The nasty bruise you’d gotten on your back from the fight with her titan had not gone away, it still looked bad. But the sharp pain down your spine wasn’t really bothering you anymore and you had to do something. You were a soldier, you couldn’t let bruising stop you from training. She’d not killed you or paralyzed you so you were better than half the people that came in contact with her in a fight. You could handle being sore. You couldn’t survive if you got too soft. 

Before you could pick up the training mat you and Mikasa had been using Jean was there picking it up instead. “I’m fine, just sore still.” He was opening his mouth to say something but you were faster. “Besides, Mikasa took it easy on me so there isn’t any real chance I could have hurt myself anyway.” 

It did feel good that he was worried, even if it was because you were his friend, it still was nice to know that he did care so much. You could imagine if it had been Sasha or Connie he would have yelled at them, called them idiots but with you, he didn’t. He’d been a little different towards you since you stood at his house together. He was still loud and sometimes obnoxious, but there were times when he let himself be quiet and just… exist around you. You still didn’t know exactly how to comfort him but just being around someone seemed to help him usually. 

“Yeah well.” Jean put the mat up before looking back at you for a second. His eyes darted away again, looking for something.“You shouldn’t take the risk if you don’t need to.” When he finally found what he was looking for he crossed the room and picked it up, holding it out to you, still not looking. 

Your shirt. That was why he wasn’t looking at you, and why he’d been blushing when Mikasa left the room. He’d been checking her out even if she was just dressed for training. Taking it from him you muttered a thanks before turning around. Mostly trying to keep him from seeing the annoyance that was on your face again. The sooner you could get in the shower and ignore everything that had happened these few weeks and pretend these last few minutes didn’t really happen. 

Before you could button the shirt Jean grabbed the collar pulling it down. “Shit…” you froze for a second, did it really look that bad? You could only see parts of your back in the mirror. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming.” He was good at blaming himself, “You should ice it again.” 

Looking over your shoulder you could see a blotch of deep purple on your shoulder, that part wasn’t really healing yet. “It still looks bad?” He gave a small huff when your eyes met. Basically telling you that was a stupid question. “It looks worse than it is. I promise.” Maybe that would make him feel a little better.

His fingers ghosted over your shoulder blade where it probably looked the worst. His fingers slowly trailed towards your spine, you knew he was just looking at your injury but you couldn’t help but close your eyes at his touch. He couldn’t see your face thankfully, you didn’t want him to see the change in your expression as you reveled in his touch, even if it was just the faintest of touches. Before this you didn’t realize how much you really craved touch, maybe it was just his touch?

Goose bumps rose over your skin when his fingers slid down your spine and you turned around again. Your eyes locked and for a moment you thought he was going to say something, he opened his mouth but closed it quickly and let his hand fall and stepped back. You felt your own face heat up when he stepped back and you realized you were basically standing in front of him half dressed. 

“Just… be careful okay? What would you have done if you’d have been hurt worse? We need you.” He looked away from you as you buttoned your shirt. “And make sure you sleep soon, you look exhausted.” 

A laugh bubbled up out of your chest and he turned sharply. “Yes sir” When you gave him a half attempted salute he rolled his eyes and started walking away from you. “It was funny Jean.” The laughter had hurt your chest though and he wasn’t wrong about you being tired. “You should sleep too, Connie will probably try to wake you up in the morning when he leaves. I know Sasha will wake me up.” 

You both knew you were right, they’d never leave without saying anything to both Jean and yourself. He waved and muttered a goodnight before you stepped into your dorm to grab a change of clothes for the shower. Jean already gone when you came back out.