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So you are telling me that I woke up at 7 am despite the fact that Iâm fucking sick and should be sleeping more ONLY TO WATCH MAX OUT IN Q2 AND CHARLES P4? fucking hell đš
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I really wanna see Max and Charles at the podium in Suzuka 𼚠sadly I have a feeling that Max is gonna retire soon so it would be fantastic to see him win. Also Iâm a little sad cause itâs my first year watching f1 and I would be extremely sad seeing Max leaveâŚ
playlist (updates with the chapters) | main masterlist
Jason Gideon was leaving the FBI in a month. He sent you and Dr. Reid to a house in the woods to protect something preciousâŚand maybe each other. Out there, you could fall apart, or fall in love, while he quietly slipped away, never telling you why.
Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. located in season 2 & 3 (with many changes). mentions of spencerâs addiction, family issues and typical cm content. suggestive themes. rivals to lovers. forced proximity. angsty.
Status: In process.
chapters: this section may vary as the story progresses; there may be fewer or more in the future.
âĽď¸ i. the introduction
âĽď¸ i. the methods
âĽď¸ iii. the results
âĽď¸ iv. the discussion
extra content:
âĽď¸ moodboard of the house in the woods
tag list â¤ď¸ ď¸: @withloverosse @blog-du-caillou @thecrimsonfog @gita-skyguy66 @hqtiny @winniethewitch11
send me an ask or comment here if you would like to be added or removed!
Summary: You never thought youâd have to fight for Spencer here, in the place between life and whatever comes next. But when Maeve, the woman who died and waited thirty-nine years for him, appears, the life you built together is suddenly weighed against the promise of a love he lost. As he spends his days reliving the moments they never had, youâre left clinging to thirty-five years of shared history, wondering if memory is enough to keep his heart.
Based on A24's new movie "Eternity"
Warnings/Themes: angst, comfort????? (guess you'll have to find out), descriptions of schizophrenia, probably canon divergent on some parts especially the criminal minds timeline, (please let me know if i missed anything)
Word Count: 3.9k words
Author's note: It's finally time for my first spencer reid fic!!! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed making it, instead of studying for my final exams lol. English isn't my first language and im a tad bit dyslexic please bear with me. Tell me what you think or any advice for my writing in the future <3 hope you have a great week ahead.
Death came quietly for you.
It wasnât the dramatic pulling-away youâd once imagined no tunnel of light, no invisible hand reaching down. Just a shift in the air, subtle and strange, like the way a room changes when someone opens a door in another part of the house. One breath, then another⌠and then nothing.
When you open your eyes, youâre standing on a train platform.
The station curves high above you in a vaulted sweep of glass and iron. Light fractures into prisms through the overhead panels. Steam drifts along the floor, curling around your shoes. Somewhere in the distance, you hear the low hiss of brakes and the faint clink of metal.
It smells like coffee.
You turn toward the scent and catch sight of your reflection in the station map except itâs not the woman you were hours ago. Gone are the silver strands of hair, the fine lines, the gentle wear of time. In the glass is a young woman of twenty-seven: hair thick and glossy, eyes bright, skin untouched by age.
âWelcome to the Limbo Station.â
The man behind you wears a grey coat and an expression you know youâll never be able to fully recall. His nametag reads: Eternity Coordinator.
âThis is where people arrive when theyâve died,â he says, like itâs nothing more than a schedule to keep. âBefore they choose where and with whom theyâll spend eternity.â
Your throat tightens. âAnd if I donât choose?â
âThen you remain here,â he answers simply. âForever. Not living. Not gone. Just⌠waiting.â
The word waiting settles in your chest like a stone.
âHow long do I have?â
âSeven days.â His voice softens.
-đŤ-
Time in Limbo doesnât move the way it should.
There are no clocks you can trust, only the uneven rhythm of your own pulse is strange, given that youâre not sure you even have a body. The departures board above the platform doesnât list destinations. Only names. They flicker in and out like bad reception, and yours has never appeared.
You walk to keep from thinking too much. Past the newsstand that sells papers from decades you never lived. Past the cafĂŠ that smells like every coffee youâve ever loved. Past the green benches that always cradle someone staring into nothing.
But walking leaves too much space for memory.
Spencer at thirty-five, stepping into your bookshop for the first time with an armful of battered crime novels, explaining in perfect, breathless detail the statistical probability of solving a locked room mystery.
Spencer at thirty-eight, sliding a ring onto your finger with the quiet, almost shy confession: I never thought Iâd be this lucky.
Spencer at forty-five, and the tremor in his hands the night he looked at you and didnât recognize the room you both were in.
Spencer at seventy, fading in the bed youâd shared for thirty-two years of marriage, thirty-five years of knowing him.
When the whistle splits the air, you already know.
The train glides in without a jolt. The doors open, and there he is.
Younger, maybe thirty, with hair longer, curling at the ends the way it had when you first met. No cane. No tremor. No shadows dragging at the corners of his eyes. His coat is the same brown one from your first winter together.
His gaze locks onto yours, and his voice is steady. âSunshine.â
The sound of it nearly knocks the air from your chest. You take a step toward himâ
âDr. Reid,â the Coordinatorâs voice cuts in, too loud. âThereâs someone else here for you.â
You follow his gaze to the far end of the platform, beneath the brass clock.
Sheâs standing there like the moment belongs to her. Maeve Donovan. Her hair is blonde now warm and honey-bright under the station light. No trace of the brown fringe she once wore like armor. She doesnât need to hide anymore.
Her smile is that of someone who has waited thirty-nine years for this.
And Spencerâs expression shifts into something youâve never seen, a version of himself that belongs to another life entirely.
For the first time since arriving, you are afraid.
-đŤ-
The first day after his arrival belongs to her.
You know it before you see them. The departures board glows with her name all morning: MAEVE DONOVAN - PLATFORM FIVE. Gold letters. Impossible to miss.
The restaurant sits under a wrought-iron awning, steam curling down from the tracks above. You recognize it instantly. He once told you about it in the kind of detail that only comes at three in the morning in his sleep, the exact table heâd reserved by the window, the music heâd hoped would be playing, the fact that heâd rehearsed three different opening lines.
They never made it there in life. A shadow in the room, a possible threat. The night had ended before it began.
But here there is no danger.
Sheâs already at the table when he walks in. Maeve Donovan blonde now, the kind of soft gold that catches every flicker of lamplight. No fringe falling into her eyes. Her face is completely visible, open in a way you suspect it never was in life.
âYou cut your hair,â he says, smiling faintly before correcting himself. âNo â thatâs wrong. You changed it.â
âI stopped hiding,â she replies, and her smile folds the thirty-nine years of waiting into something light and almost girlish.
The waiter sets down two glasses of wine. Maeve lifts hers first. âTo long-overdue first dates,â she says.
Spencer laughs at the sound unguarded, the one you remember from years before life made him careful. âTo finally keeping a promise.â
They talk. Not in the cautious, surface way people often do after a long separation, but in a current that sweeps them both forward.
âDo you remember,â she says, leaning in, âthat first phone call? You told me you were reading about prime numbers and their patterns.â
âAnd you asked me,â he finishes for her, âif there was any pattern that could predict the next prime.â Heâs grinning now, his hands moving as he talks. âI told you about Euclid, about Goldbachâs conjectureââ
ââand then you veered into the Fibonacci sequence,â she interrupts, laughing softly. âAnd somehow you linked it to sunflower seeds and nautilus shells.â
âItâs all connected,â he says, leaning forward, eyes bright. âThe golden ratio shows up in nature because of efficiency, the way leaves grow to get the most sunlight, or how galaxies spiral to distribute mass evenly.â
She nods like sheâs not just listening but matching him stride for stride. âAnd you told me it wasnât just math, it was beauty.â
âAnd I stand by that,â he says.
You can hear the low hum in his voice, the one that means heâs completely engaged, his mind running without tripping over itself.
Dessert arrives on a small plate with two forks. Maeve takes one, holding it in her hand without eating yet. âI used to wonder,â she says, âwhat it would feel like to actually sit across from you. To not just hear your voice over a line but see the way you think.â
âAnd?â His tone is softer now.
âAnd,â she says, smiling just slightly, âitâs better than I imagined.â
Thereâs a pause. Not an awkward one, a full one. Heâs looking at her the way people look when theyâve found a missing page in a book they thought was lost forever.
From your table near the back, you sit very still, listening to the rhythm of their words. You donât need to hear everything to know whatâs there, the ease, the thrill of being seen without having to explain yourself.
But you also know the years.
Sheâs had thirty-nine years to imagine this. Youâve had thirty-five years of knowing him, thirty-two of marriage. Youâve had the winters when the heater failed, the hospital corridors, the nights when the storms in his head were so violent you werenât sure if either of you would come out whole.
You know which version costs more to love.
Here, in this restaurant, there is no cost. Only the sheen of possibility.
When Maeve finally takes a bite of dessert, Spencer smiles the kind of smile youâve seen him give only when someoneâs managed to surprise him. For a heartbeat, nothing else exists for him but that table, that conversation, and the woman across from him.
And then the moment passes, leaving you with the low hum of the station in your ears and the gold letters of her name still burning in your mind.
-đŤ-
Your name glows on the departures board the next morning: YOU â PLATFORM TWO.
For a moment, you just stand there and look at it. The gold feels different than it had for Maeve. Not like a spotlight. More like a hand extended.
When he finds you on the platform, Spencer already knows where youâll go. âThe cafĂŠ?â he says, and it isnât a question.
The board game cafĂŠ is tucked down a side corridor of the station, all warm light and mismatched tables. Shelves sag under the weight of well-worn game boxes, and the air smells faintly of cinnamon. You almost expect the bell above the door of your old bookshop to ring when you walk in.
He picks the same corner table you chose the first time you came here together. That night in life, youâd met for coffee and stayed until closing, playing round after round of Scrabble and Patchwork, pretending not to notice when your knees brushed under the table.
You sit down across from him, and for a moment, it feels like no time has passed at all.
âDo you still start Scrabble with âquixoticâ?â he asks, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
âYou still remember that?â
âHow could I forget? You placed it across a triple word score and destroyed me in the first move.â
You laugh, shaking your head. âYou got me back with âjuxtaposeâ in the next game.â
As you set up the board, he glances at the books stacked on the cafĂŠâs shelves. âThey have The Divine Comedy here,â he says, pulling a copy down. âIn Italian.â
Your chest tightens. âDante was the first author I ever loved,â you say, running your fingers over the spine. âHe understood how love can be salvation and damnation all at once.â
Spencerâs voice softens. âYou used to read it to me at night. When I⌠couldnât sleep.â
âAnd you always interrupted to tell me about the historical accuracy of whatever canto we were in.â
He smiles not sheepish, just fond. âI liked hearing you talk about it more than I liked correcting you.â
You pass him the tiles and draw your first set. âDo you think they have White Nights here too?â
âThey do,â he says without looking at the shelves. âItâs right next to the poetry section. Third shelf down. I checked.â
The first few games are light, filled with playful swipes and small victories. But somewhere between moves, the air shifts.
âI remember this version of you,â you say quietly. âBefore the tremors. Before the⌠noise.â
He looks up, his expression unreadable. âAnd you stayed through all of it.â
âOf course I did.â
His gaze lingers on you for a moment, as if heâs memorizing the shape of your face, the curve of your smile. Then he leans back, placing constellation across the board.
âThatâs a lot of points,â you say.
âI was aiming for âPerseids,ââ he admits. âWe should see them tonight.â
You raise a brow. âWe?â
âUnless youâd rather watch them alone.â His voice is light, but the question isnât.
You canât remember the last time you saw him without the weight of his own mind pressing in on him. Maybe thatâs why you say yes without hesitation.
The cafĂŠ stays open later than you remember. Or maybe time just works differently here. Either way, by the time you leave, the station is washed in a dusky violet glow that doesnât feel like night or morning.
Spencer walks beside you down one of the long side platforms until youâre far from the noise. The tracks curve out into what looks like an open sky wide, endless, and shimmering faintly. You know without asking that the Perseids will be visible here.
He sits on the edge of the platform and gestures for you to join him. The air smells faintly of rain, though thereâs no sign of clouds.
âTheyâre not actually stars, you know,â he begins, voice warm with that familiar anticipation. âTheyâre pieces of debris from Comet SwiftâTuttle. Every August, Earth passes through the cometâs trail, and the atmosphere burns the fragments up at about sixty kilometers per second.â
You smile faintly. âI missed this.â
âWhat?â
âYou. Talking like that. Like the facts canât help but fall out of you.â
He glances over, eyes softening. âYou used to say it was like being married to an encyclopedia with a heartbeat.â
âYou were wrong,â you say. âItâs better than that.â
The first streak of light cuts across the dark. He tips his head back to watch, and for a moment you forget the thirty-nine years Maeve waited, the choice hanging in the days ahead, the strange rules of this place. All you can see is him, unbroken, unafraid, the way he was in your first years together.
âPeople used to think meteor showers were omens,â he continues, eyes still on the sky. âThe Greeks believed they were signs from the gods. Some cultures saw them as souls falling to Earth. In realityâŚâ He stops himself, smiling faintly. âYou donât need me to finish that.â
âNo,â you say, âbut I like it when you do.â
So he does. He tells you about orbital periods and radiant points, about how the meteors all seem to come from the constellation Perseus, even though theyâre scattered across the sky. You let the words wash over you, not because you donât understand, but because you want to remember the sound of his voice without hesitation, without fear.
At some point, you realize youâre leaning into him. His shoulder is solid against yours, warmer than you expect in this place between worlds.
âDo you ever think about the years?â you ask quietly.
Heâs silent for a moment. âEvery day.â
âYou were thirty-five when we met,â you say. âThirty-eight when we married. Thirty-two years together. Maeve waited thirty-nine years to see you again.â
He exhales, long and low. âI think about all of it. The life we lived. The life I might have had.â
âAnd?â
His eyes meet yours. âAnd Iâm glad I got this one.â
Another meteor streaks overhead, bright enough to leave a trail. You donât make a wish not because you donât have one, but because youâre afraid of asking for more than youâre allowed to keep.
-đŤ-
You see her name on the board again that evening: MAEVE DONOVAN â PLATFORM SIX.
The glow is steady, confident.
The library sits in the far wing of the station, half-hidden behind a row of tall arched windows. From the doorway, it looks like something built from memory â candlelit, walls lined floor to ceiling with books, ladders leaning against shelves like theyâve been used for centuries. Stacks rise in careful towers between the aisles, making the space feel both endless and secret.
Sheâs waiting near a reading table, her blonde hair loose over her shoulders, lit gold in the candlelight. The change from the brown hair and bangs in the photos youâve seen still catches you off guard.
Spencer arrives just behind you. You donât step forward, but you donât leave either. In Limbo, you canât help but overhear.
âHi,â she says softly, smiling like sheâs known this exact moment was coming.
âHi,â he answers, and something in his voice lowers, becomes quieter.
They move toward the shelves, fingers trailing over spines. She plucks out a book at random, Flatland, and passes it to him.
âYou used to talk about this on the phone,â she says. âThe geometry of different dimensions. I remember thinking it was the most romantic thing Iâd ever heard.â
He laughs, tilting his head. âRomantic?â
âYou made math sound like a love story,â she says.
They drift deeper into the library, the candlelight softening their features. She tells him about her years here.
âI died in 2012,â she says. âIt doesnât feel like time, not really, but Iâve been here ever since. At first I thought Iâd⌠move on. Go somewhere. But I couldnât. Not until I saw you again.â
âThirty-nine years,â he says quietly.
âYes.â Her smile turns wistful. âI spent them reading. Talking to people I never thought Iâd meet. Aristotle is infuriating, by the way. Emily Dickinson speaks in riddles. Ada Lovelace taught me how to cheat at chess.â
Heâs smiling now, his hand brushing a shelf. âYou made a life here.â
âI waited,â she corrects gently. âEverything else was just filling the time.â
At some point, she takes his hand and pulls him toward the open space in the center of the room. Music begins faint, tinny, as though itâs playing from another century. They dance slowly, the kind of swaying thatâs more about nearness than rhythm.
From where you stand in the shadow of a high stack of books, you feel the pressure of the last day building in your chest. Tomorrow, youâll have to decide where youâll spend eternity. And if he doesnât choose you, forever will be an empty bench in this station.
Maeve leans her head against his shoulder. âI used to imagine this exact moment. Down to the book dust in the air. And I think⌠itâs better than I imagined.â
Spencer doesnât answer right away. When he does, his voice is almost too soft to catch. âItâs beautiful.â
You donât wait to hear more.
-đŤ-
Your name isnât on the board that morning.
Neither is hers.
Itâs the last day.
You know without being told that by the end of it, youâll either be walking forward with him or staying on this platform forever. The station feels still, expectant, like the air is holding its breath. The steam clings closer to the ground, curling around your ankles as if it means to keep you here.
You spend the morning in the bookshop tucked between two platforms. It isnât your bookshop, but it feels close enough the same dark wood shelves, the same smell of paper and dust.
You take a copy of The Divine Comedy down, your thumb finding the crease where Inferno ends and Paradiso begins. You tuck a note between the pages.
âLove is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another.â â Thomas Merton
You know those words arenât yours. You know they belonged to him and Maeve once, written in another lifetime. But you also know heâs the only one who can decide what they mean now.
The book goes in his favorite section, probability theory, on the third shelf from the bottom where you know heâll see it.
The day passes in flickers. You spot him and Maeve talking by the brass clock, their heads bent close. Later, you see him standing alone at the cafĂŠ door, scanning the room until his gaze catches yours. You hold it for a moment, then look away.
When the final train of the day glides in, the departures board goes blank.
Youâre sitting on the bench nearest the edge when he finds you.
âI found the book,â he says, sitting down beside you. His voice is quiet, almost reverent. âYou know that quote wasnât ours.â
âI know,â you say.
âIt was something Maeve and I⌠shared.â
âI know,â you repeat, softer this time. âBut I also know you still believe it.â
He studies your face for a long moment, like heâs trying to see all the years at once the thirty-five youâve known him, the thirty-two of marriage, the years Maeve waited without him.
âIâve had love twice,â he says at last. âOnce as a promise. Once as a life.â He takes your hand, warm and steady. âAnd love⌠is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another.â
His smile is small, certain. âSunshine, I choose you.â
The station dissolves. The air smells like the first rain of summer. His arm stays around you as you step forward into whatever eternity is here, the words still warm in your chest not because they were once hers, but because theyâre his, and now, theyâre yours too.
-đŤ-
Eternity doesnât look like the station.
When the glass arches and iron beams dissolve, you find yourself standing in the doorway of your bookshop. It isnât the exact one you left behind in life this one is brighter, warmer, the shelves fuller than you ever managed to keep them. Outside the window, thereâs no street, just a soft, endless horizon that glows like a permanent golden hour.
Spencer steps in behind you, his coat brushing your arm. He looks around slowly, as if heâs trying to memorize it.
âThis is yours,â he says.
âItâs ours,â you answer.
The days if they can even be called days here follow an easy rhythm. Mornings in the shop, afternoons spent wandering to the cafĂŠ at the end of the lane (you never ask how it got here from the station). The shelves hold every book youâve ever loved and a few you havenât read yet. Thereâs always a copy of The Divine Comedy within reach, and he still interrupts to fact-check Dante with a small smile.
Sometimes, when the light changes, youâll pull White Nights down and read it aloud, the words folding over the two of you like a familiar blanket. Heâll listen quietly, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your wrist, as if youâre still proving to each other that youâre here.
In the evenings, the sky shifts to a deep velvet blue, and the Perseids streak overhead in slow, graceful arcs. You sit together on the little balcony above the shop, a game of Scrabble abandoned between you. He still tries to work âquixoticâ into the first move; you still roll your eyes and accuse him of cheating.
One night, as a meteor burns bright across the horizon, he leans closer. âDo you know what I think eternity is?â
You glance at him, curious. âWhat?â
âThis. Not the forever part. Just⌠the part where I can tell you something about orbital debris, and youâll listen like it matters. The part where youâll read to me even though you know Iâll interrupt.â
You smile, resting your head against his shoulder. âThen I guess weâve had eternity for a while now.â
And maybe you have.
Because here, in this place thatâs neither life nor death, you donât feel the years anymore, not the thirty-five you spent together in the world, not the thirty-nine Maeve waited, not the seven days in the station. There is no before or after.
Only the sound of his voice, the smell of old paper and coffee, the way the sky seems to fall in golden spirals above you.
Forever, you think, could be smaller than people imagine.
Summary: Stiles meets a stranger in a coffee shop. Just people being people.
Warning: English isnât my first language so Iâm trying my best.
Hey guys, this is something new. I guess I had to put my feeling somewhere and well this story is just it. I don't know if you are going to like this. I hope you will. Enjoy â¤ď¸ and let me know what you think!!
Masterlist
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âI met someoneâ you hear and suddenly the time stops. First punch in your face. You donât hear how the glass shatters, you donât even feel dropping your wine glass. You look at the man that was yours for the past 3 years and suddenly you donât recognize him.
âAnd sheâs pregnantâŚâ Second punch in the face. You gasp desperately for air. You feel your throat closing and sudden burst of tears coming up but you canât say anything. You just stare at Theo for whoever know how long. It may be minutes or hours. It definitely feels like years to you.Â
âW-what?â You whisper unable to speak louder.
âI know it justâŚI donât know what should I tell you. I know that nothing I say will ease your pain. I justâŚIâm so sorry y/nâ he says. You look him in the eyes, but thereâs nothing. Just void. And suddenly you realize that he has never loved you. Especially not in the way that you did. Not with his whole heart.Â
Theo stands up and kiss you in the forehead âgoodbye y/nâ.
You close your eyes trying to control the wave of sadness thatâs filling your heart but it doesnât help at all. You burst in tears right where you are. Right here. In your favorite place in the whole world. In yours and his coffee shop. Yours and his spot. Right where he asked you to be his girlfriend. You sit there, tears dropping at the table and you just canât move. 3 years of beautiful relationship just died. Like it didnât mean anything.Â
âWhat the hell am I supposed to do?â You whisper to yourself.
âWell, I think that youâre supposed to heal from thatâ you hear someone saying behind you. You slowly turn around and see HIM.Â
âI know you donât really know me but let me buy you a tea and maybe a couple? Ok, a few boxes of tissues.â He says and smile at you. âIâm Stiles by the wayâ.
You look at him âIâm y/n.â
âItâs nice to meet you y/n but I wish the circumstances were better.â Says Stiles and sits next to you. âI know that Iâm just a stranger but maybe if u tell me what happened and why such a pretty girl is crying right in the middle of the coffee house on Monday. You will feel a little bit better. Im guessing it has something to do with that guy who just left. Inferring from the fact that you are crying, Iâm guessing he probably broke up with you.â
You sigh in disbelief. Heâs really good at reading the situation and people.
âWell. Technically he left me because he has met someone AND got her pregnant. Can you believe this?â You say. You donât know him so whatever. You are just a random girl in his life and so is he in yours. So yeah, what the hell.
âWow. I DID NOT expect that. What an asshole. Iâm sorry y/n. You deserve better.â He says and smiles at me. I rub the tears out of my face.
âYeah I do. You are absolutely right. I hope he catches chlamydiaâ you joke and then magic happens. He laughs. He laughs so beautifully. Itâs like music to your ears.
âYou have a nice laughâ you say without thinking. Two red stains appears on your cheeks as you realize what youâve just said. âIâm sorry. Itâs not really an appropriate things for me to say especially in my position.â
âNo, no. It is appropriate because we are just people being people.â He says and looks at you smiling.
 âââââââââđââââââââââ-
âWe are just people being people. Thatâs what youâve told me 5 years ago in that coffee house. It was at this moment that Iâve realized that weâre just two strangers who sit together. One broken soul and as I know now my guardian angel who fixed that soul and heart. After that one meeting was many more. There were just some random meetings like going to movies or going skating. But later our meeting werenât really meeting of two friends. They were dates and we both knew that. I remember that one particular date or as I should say not-a-date where Stiles texted me at 3 am to dress up and sneak out of my apartment to go out as I thought. He took me on a late night drive and we were singing our favorite songs. Suddenly my life came together and I was feeling it in every cell in my body. I was and I am so happy. Little did I know that Stiles will randomly in the middle of the song ask me to be his girlfriend. Of course I said yes just like I said yes when he kneeled on one knee in Paris. I guess If I said no I wouldnât be standing here in white dress.â You laugh and look with tears of happiness on your husband. âTo the point, after that stupid day 5 years ago I NEVER imagined myself with someone else other than my ex. Iâve never imagined myself that happy again. Alive and happy. But here I am. A short conversation led me to the most amazing, beautiful and caring human that I could ever met. I have never thought I will find myself completely and utterly happy and in love with someone but here I am. Stiles, baby you are my everything and Iâm so grateful that I have you in my life and right now that I can share my life with you till death do us parts. I love you.â You end your monologue and see Stiles raising his glassÂ
âTo us my loveâ he says and drinks his champagne.
âTo usâ you repeat after him.
Who thought that people being people would let to dating and marriage? Who thought that being just kind to a stranger would led to that? Well, you definitely didnât.Â
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"And I guess youâre keeping the 20 bucks you owe meâ thatâs just ehh it feels like something that Chandler would say to Joey and it breaks my heart even more đĽš
Warnings: cursing, English isnât my first language
Dt: @taurusvic
Masterlist
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Two months have passed since Y/N left. It all changed. I broke up with Malia. Finally I realized that she was not the one for me. Sadly, too late. We all could feel the absence of Y/N. Lydia was trying to be brave but she couldnât hide her tears and Scott even though he claimed he was fine I knew he wasnât sleeping well just like me. I was having nightmares, of course if only I was sleeping, otherwise my insomnia hit pretty badly. She came back just like the attacks.
âLydia, you canât do this to me. I know that you know where y/n is. Please, you have to tell meâ I say looking at Lydia. I bite my lips âIâm not gonna give up. I have to talk with her.â
Lydia sighs and looks at me âStiles, Iâm sorry but you have to understand that y/n doesnât want to see you or talk with you. You have to respect that. She is finally happy. Let her be happy on her own.â
I close my eyes and sigh âFine.â
I walk out of Lydiaâs house and drive back home. Ever since that night when weâve found out y/nâs gone I couldnât forgive myself. Sleep is my only escape from reality. I feel like Iâm losing my mind every time I am conscious. How could I be so stupid and so blind?
I take my phone and dial a number. After a few tones my call is being picked up.
ây/n?â I ask hoping that sheâs going to respond. I hear silence.
âYou have to come back to me. I need you. I canât lose you. I love you.â I say with a shaky voice. Few tears rolling down my cheek.
âI asked you not to contact me. I beg you, stop breaking my heart Stiles. Donât do this to me" says Y/N then hangs up.
âFUCKâ I scream and hit the desk with my hand. I keep hitting that desk with anger and tears rolling down my cheeks. Eventually after a few minutes I calm down and lay on the bed. I close my eyes hoping that I will fall asleep but thatâs not happening. Instead of that a memory shows up in my head.
It was Christmas. Me, Y/N, Lydia, Scott were sitting on the floor looking at the fireplace. Some Christmas songs were playing on the radio as we were giving each other presents.âCome on Y/N you have to open it quickly!!! I spent the whole week looking for this'' says Lydia while giving Y/Nâs a big box. I smile looking at girls knowing what Lydia actually has for her. Y/n opens up the big box only to find out the smaller box and so it goes on till she finds her little box full of jewelry. Y/N smiles and hugs Lydia tightly screaming with excitement. âOk my turn.â I say and reach for the big white teddy bear thatâs been sitting on the couch. âWell, Y/N meet Lucky.â I say and give the teddy to Y/N. She hugs him and then leans to give me a kiss on the cheek.â
I shake my head to get rid of that memory. I miss her a lot and knowing that she is out there itâŚmakes me want to fight for that. For her. But how could I do that when she doesnât want to talk with me or see me? I canât live without her and I will do everything to find y/n.
I took my phone out and texted Lydia â Believe me, I'll do everything I can to finally find her. Living without her is a torment which I cannot bear anymore. If you don't tell me where I can find her, you won't see me anymore ... no one willâ
The answer came almost immediately âWAIT!!! What are you going to do ? Stiles ?â
âI can't live like this anymoreâŚâ I wrote back
âUgh you fucking idiot. Do NOT blackmail meâ she replied
âI donât blackmail you Lydia. I just say what I intend to doâ I wrote and smiled knowing that Lydia will give up soon.
âYou act like a psychopath. Please donât do something stupid Stiles. Y/N needs time and spaceâ
âMaybe I am a psychopath but love made me crazy and please donât blame me. Only the loss of true love can hurt like this. Please help me find herâ I replied and my eyes flooded with tears. I heard a notification sound and read the message from Lydia at the speed of light
âI fucking hate u. Here is her addressâ. Few seconds later I saw an attachment with the exact location of y/n. I ran out of the house and got into the car. I don't care if she's in another town right now. I set y/nâs location as my destination in navigation and was on my way. Two hours later I stood with a bouquet of white roses in front of her door. My legs were shaking and my hands were sweating. I felt stuffy so I knocked on her door. Millions of thoughts circled in my head and just a fraction of a second later she was standing in the door crying.
â I asked you not to look for meâ she said
â Please let me explain everything. I can't live without you anymore. I understood that I love you. Please let me in â I whispered and she opened the door wider. I smiled with tears in my eyes and handed her the flowers. As soon as I crossed the threshold y / n she closed the door and I fell at her feet crying like a little baby.
âStiles please stand upâ she said
I shook my head and snuggled against her skinny legs. "I can't live without you. I can't lose you again. I care too much about you. please give me a fucking chance. You don't even know how damn I miss you. PleaseâŚâ Y/N knelt in front of me with tears in her eyes and put her hand on my cheek. I couldn't help myself and kissed her. She almost immediately kissed me back and smiled. We both knelt in tears in front of each other, unable to utter a word.
âI love uâ she whispered and my heart stopped for a while. I felt darkness before my eyes and the last thing I remember is her sweet face.
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Hi guys!
This is the final and last part of âOnly love can hurt like thisâ. Hope you enjoy it. Also Iâd like to take a minute to thank my beautiful best friend Katie for helping me out with that part â¤ď¸ I love you boo
âHas anyone seen Y/N?â You say while looking at Scott, Lydia and Malia.
Malia rolls her eyes âWho cares where Y/N isâ.
You sigh in disbelief. You love this girl with all of your heart but sometimes it is really hard to be with her. âI gotta talk to her and something tells me that I wonât be able to do this tomorrowâ you say with a little pain in your voice. Something feels off and it actually scares you.
âStiles, you need to calm down otherwise you will have a panic attack.â says Lydia while looking at me with this care in her eyes. âsheâs probably at home alreadyâ.
I nod and lick my lips. Lydiaâs probably right but somethingâs bothering me and I have this weird feeling that Y/N is not at home.
âIâm gonna get some airâ you say and walk out of the school building.
You look around but still no sign of Y/N. You get in your car and drive to her house as fast as you can. With a pounding heart you park at Y/Nâs driveway. Itâs completely dark in her house. You look at the time. Itâs 2 am. Sheâs never sleeping at this time of the night. Somethingâs wrong.
You go to the door and ring a bell. After 5 minutes you just push the door. Itâs quiet and all of her stuff are gone.
âNO, NO, NO, NOâ you say while running through Y/Nâs house. Itâs completely empty. No sign of Y/Nâs presence.
You go to her room only to find a letter on the empty bed. You frown your eyebrows.
With shaking hands and pounding heart you grab the letter seeing âStilesâ on the front.
You open the letter and take a deep breath. You start reading.
Dear Stiles,
I donât know where I should start because there are so many things that Iâd like to tell you.
First of all Iâm sorry for not telling anyone of you that I was going to leave. I really wanted to but the pain was too heavy.Â
Remember that one time when weâve been driving late at night looking for Liam? Well, you told me that night that Malia is the one and I know you havenât noticed that but my heart broke that day. Not because I was not happy for you but because Iâve been loving you since 3rd grade and somehow you;ve never noticed. Everybody knew. Including your girlfriend. She knows too. I remember going one night to your house to tell you how I feel about you but she was there. Iâve seen her in your room. You both were standing close to the window. Youâve been showing her the moon and a few moments later you were kissing. I remember thinking to myself that It should be me. I was so naive. All these presents and our long conversations about life. I once even thought that maybe we could be together. Maybe you will eventually find that romantic feeling but now I see how stupid I was.Â
I love you Stiles and I always will. Youâve been, you are my first love.
I hope that she is everything that youâve ever wanted. I hope that she will make you happy like no one ever could. I hope she is truly the one.
Please donât try to contact me. I wonât answer your calls or texts. I need to be alone for some time. I want you to know that leaving you was the hardest decision Iâve ever made. Iâm not gonna regret meeting you or falling in love with you because you Stiles Stilinski showed me what true love really is and that sometimes a true love can be painful and even destroying.
Take care of yourself and everyone and please donât try to find me.
Forever yours,
Y/N
You place the letter on the bed and wipe the tears that are falling.Â
You canât really tell what emotions you are currently feeling. Pain? Light-headedness? Sadness?
It feels like you are drowning in memories. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you feel more tears coming. How could you miss it? Y/N was always like a sister to you but somehow deep down you knew. How could you be so stupid Stiles?
You take your phone and text Lydia.
to: Lyds
Sheâs gone.
I close my eyes and lay on her bed. 10 minutes later Scott and Lydia appear upstairs. Lydia is crying while Scott hugs her.
âSheâs gone guys. Y/N left me a letter explaining that she has always loved me but couldnât stand the idea of me and Malia so she ran away. She asks us to not to look for herâ I say with shaky voice âHow could I be so stupid? Did you guys know about her feelings? Is that true?â
Lydia and Scott nod. They look at me with sorrow in their eyes.
âWe knew ever sinceâ says Lydia and sighs âWe were just hoping that maybe Malia is temporary and that eventually you will realize that Y/N loves youâ
I bite my lips âI canât believe she is really gone. I lost her because I was fooling myself. Iâm not happy with Malia and knowing that Y/N loved me through everything and that I couldnât cherish thatâŚitâs devastating.â
Scott and Lydia hug me as tight as they can and the three of us just sob unconditionally.Â
I never knew that losing somebody who was always there for me could be that hard. I couldnât love her properly, just like she deserved to be loved and for that I will never forgive myself. For being blind and letting her go. That night when I asked Malia to be my girlfriend I lost Y/N irretrievably and now we all pay the price for my mistake that I will never have a chance to fix.
Only love can hurt like this.
ââââââââââââââââ
Hi guys! Here is a highly requested part 2. Thank you so much for reading!! I appreciate that a lot đ
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Summary: Y/N is in love with Stiles for 3 years but never tells him. The pain that she feels makes her leave the town.
Warnings: itâs really sad, English isnât my first language
Masterlist
Part 2
âââââ/
âKiss me you idiotâ you say while looking at Stilesâs beautiful eyes. He smiles at you and crushes his lips into yours making your whole world disappear. You kiss him back trying to give him all your love through that kiss. His hands find their way to your cheeks. Stiles breaks the kiss and leans his forehead to yours
âI love youâ he whispers softly.
You open your eyes full of tears looking at the ceiling. Another dream of him. And this goes on and on for three years. You sigh and let the last moments of your sweet dream die. If only it was trueâŚsadly it is not because you are that one idiot in love with your best friend who loves someone else.
Knowing that Stiles is happy was like a loaded gun pointed to your head. You kept telling yourself that you have to be happy for him because after all he is your best friend but somewhere deep down you couldnât be happy no matter how hard youâve tried. Because only love can hurt like this and no matter how hard you have tried to hide your feelings they just couldnât fade awayâŚ
Stiles snaps his fingers in front of your face âYou ok?â he asks gently, looking at you a little worried.
âYeah, I'm just a little tired. Iâve been studying the whole night.â you lie smoothly. He nods and hugs you. You close your eyes for a couple of seconds enjoying his familiar smell but then he lets you go and you feel empty and even more heartbroken.
You smile at him but your smile immediately fades away when you see Maliaâs approaching you. There she is. The one he loves. The love of his life. Malia smiles at you and puts her hands on Stilesâs cheek to kiss him. You smile at them and turn your head to Lydia to hide the pain in your eyes. Lydia smiles at you with an apology in her eyes and some comfort. She knows. In fact everyone knows except Stiles and his little precious world.
You sigh knowing that you are going to overthink again.
Why can't this be you? Why can't he say those things to you? Why has he never noticed you? Why canât he kiss you the way he is kissing her?
You swear to God that it must have been a deadly kiss because everytime he kisses her, you slowly die inside.
âSo what have you guys been up to?â asks Lydia slowly killing Malia with her eyes.
âWe are going to find some pretty dresses for today.â says Malia looking at Alison. Allison nods and looks at you âAre you going to the prom?â she asks.
âI donât know yet. It depends.â you say knowing damn well that you are not going.
Lucky for you the bell saves you from answering any other questions. You take your things and go to class.
Maybe in another life it will be you and Stiles or maybe not. Maybe this fucking world does not want you to be together ever and it does not matter what your heart wants. No matter how badly you wanted to be with him, you just knew that you couldnât because he was happy and thatâs what mattered to you. For him to be happy. Even if it means that you will be suffering. His happiness was your priority. You were sure that he will always have some part of your heart. It will always be his and that was terrifying. You shake your head to stop thinking about that and try focusing on the lesson. Unfortunately it didnât happen so you lied about feeling so bad that you have to come back home.
You sigh looking at Lydia with tears in your eyes.
âY/N You have to come to that prom. Please. Do it for me. Itâs our senior year and after that we are gonna leave for college. â she says and hugs you âI know he will be there with Malia but sweetie you will have me there and I promise to you that I will be there for you the whole night. We will get through this together. No matter what.â she says looking at you worried. You wipe the tears from your face. Fine. This last time you will go and then you will leave this town and forget about every damn feeling that you have for Stiles.
âFine. I will go.â You say and lick your lips. Lydia screams in happiness and gets you ready for the prom.
You feel every muscle of your body tighten when you park your car in the schoolâs parking lot. You take a few breaths and go to school holding Lydiaâs hand. Everyone greets you and hugs you tightly. Only If they knewâŚ
You fake a smile and go on the dance floor with Scott and thatâs how the party gets started.
Few hours later you sneak out of the prom and get in your car. You exactly know where you're going. After a few minutes you park in front of the place where you and Stiles used to go. Itâs exactly the same spot where you fell in love with him. Love. That word will forever be linked for you with Stiles. After all, he was your first true unhappy love. You smile through your tears looking around.
You lay down at the ground looking at the beautiful city lights. You will miss this forever. With tears rolling down your face you get to your car.
âI will always love you Stilesâ you say to yourself driving by the sign; You are leaving Beacon Hills.
And with the enormous pain in your chest you leave the love of your life in your hometown. Because sometimes love is not beautiful. Sometimes love is just a destroying piece of shit and for you this love was destroyingâŚSometimes love isnât enough and then you have to move on, no matter how hard it will be.
And with those thoughts you disappearâŚ
ââââââ/
Hey guys! Wow itâs been long since Iâve posted something. Iâm sorry but this is not my best writing although I hope that you will enjoy it. Iâd appreciate a like or reblog.
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