#(I have a therapist we’re working on the will to live bit)

[oranberrie]

Sometimes, I’m like “man, I think I might have been looking too deep, I’m not sure if I’m autistic.” And then I nearly have a meltdown but then instead shut down after The Plan For Today that only I know goes awry and therefore messes up The Plan For Next Week, when had things been done The Right Way nothing would have gone wrong.

[wongyuseokie]

Exile | k.m.g

Summary: You two were high school sweethearts, and your love story was something only found in the scripts of a shitty teenage rom-com, but he was a jock, and you were shy and quiet. It shouldn’t have worked, but somehow it did. Now, fast forward ten years, and things aren’t the same. Your lives aren’t the same; he’s stuck in the past, and you only focus on the future. Neither of you has your priorities straight, and neither realises that your present is a complete and utter mess. You won’t let him go because he’s all you’ve ever known, and he won’t let you go because you’re the only thing right in his life, but will love and high school promises keep you two together?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut | ♥ completed works

Word Count: 20,221 words

Pairings: Kim Mingyu x Female Reader Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Slice of Life AU! Fluff, Angst, Smut (the holy trinity, if you will) 

Content Warnings: Slice of Life AU! (don’t say I didn’t warn you; this won’t be a nice one, or will it hee-hee). Yelling, swearing, crying, arguments. Couples counselling–do note I am not an actual therapist. I just write fiction. Incredibly angsty. Body insecurities and mentions of blood are not much or graphic. Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do this). Fingering, oral (male and female receiving). Multiple orgasms, squirting, hand jobs. Use of sex toys. Hickies. Dry humping. Mingyu cums in his trousers (but like, what can I say? He’s in love). Shower sex.   Authors Note 1: This is a Seventeen rewrite of an old fic of mine, so if it looks familiar, that’s why hehe. 

Author’s Note 2: Thank you to my darling @the-boy-meets-evil for beta'ing this despite being so busy. I love you dearly. Part of the Broken Illusions Stories

© wongyuseokie 2024. All rights reserved.

“Okay, I kept my mouth shut the entire dinner, but honey, this is the fifth time you’ve been back home since you and Mingyu moved in together, and I still see no ring. No signs of a marriage, nothing,” your mother started to say as she sipped her wine, making you groan as you took a large gulp of yours. 

“Can we not ruin every trip back home with this?” You moaned, and your mother shrugged. 

“I’m ruining nothing, but honey, ten years, and you two still aren’t engaged or together. As a mother, I want to know you have stability,” your mother spoke, looking down at the red-coloured liquid in her glass. 

“I don’t need a husband for stability,” you bit back, making your mother raise her brow in disapproval at you with your tone. 

“I never said that, but how long do you two just plan on dating? You two have moved in and been together for ten years. Now? Honey, he hasn’t even come back to visit the last two times you came,” your mother continued explaining, making you groan. 

“I’m thinking he dodged a bullet,” you mumbled, earning a sigh from your mother. 

“Besides, he hasn’t even proposed, so why should I pressure him?” You suggested, and your mother frowned at you. 

“You could ask him?” Your mother offered gently, and you sighed deeply.

“Or are you like him? Dragging your feet?” Your mother questioned, and you shrugged. 

“We’re comfortable. Why is that not enough for you?” You asked, genuinely wondering why your mother always brought this topic up.

“Is it enough for you? To be comfortable? If that’s what you are willing to settle for, then sure, but my love, comfort is fine, but it’s dangerous. When you’re too comfy in a relationship, you take every second for granted, and you think it’ll last forever, and you get lazy,” your mother lectured, making you roll your eyes at her. 

“Can you stop projecting your marriage or failed marriage onto my thriving relationship?” You asked immediately, feeling guilt surge through your veins at your harsh words. 

Your mother only ever wanted to help you. 

“Mum,” you started to say, stopping when she held a hand up to stop you. 

“It’s because of my failed marriage I can spot the warning signs from a mile away. I’m not saying you and Mingyu will be a repeat of what your father and I were, but if you don’t get clarity on where you two stand, you’ll always be in the grey with him,” your mother explained before finishing off her drink. 

“I don’t need him to prove anything to me, but when was the last time you spoke about the future?” Your mother asked, and you fumbled to give her an answer and came up blank, making your mother only sigh more. 

“Get some rest. You have an early train to catch tomorrow. This is food for thought,” your mother said kindly before standing up to hug you and heading upstairs. 

You sighed deeply, took in the night sky, and thought hard. 

You and Mingyu stopped discussing the future when he kissed you at sixteen. Sure, you two were young, but you knew in your heart he was the one. But as your relationship progressed, Mingyu seemed to hold onto the past, and anytime the future would come up, he’d change topics and walk away, and if he tried to reminisce, you’d walk away. 

You two were in different tenses, but neither of you ever wanted to acknowledge the present. 

The present, where the last time you two had a date night was five months ago, and the last time he made love to you—properly, not just a quick fuck or a sloppy blowjob—but the last time he was intimate with you, was also five months ago. The present you and Mingyu shared looked like a foreshadowing of a hollow future. You let out a frustrated groan. 

You and Mingyu had to talk if you wanted to save whatever you two had, but why did it feel like a part of you had already let go?

“Sweetie, the wine may have made me too bold, and I apologise for overstepping. Your relationship is none of my business,” your mother apologised for the fifth time that day, and the most recent apology was in the car on the way to the train station. 

“It’s fine. I guess you’re not wrong. You did give me a lot to think about. I got defensive because I’ve felt distant from him, we’ve both not had the time, and I guess I felt like you were calling me out when I know that’s not the case,” you admitted, and your mother gave you a soft smile before turning back to look at the road. 

“It’s like a bandaid; maybe he feels the same, and a talk will help, but keeping it in your head, where your demons lie, that’s the worst, so just rip it off and let the wound heal with time,” your mother said wisely making you smile. 

“If anything goes wrong, I’m always a safe place for you to come home to,” your mother added, and you nodded at her, thanking her profusely as you hugged her goodbye. While you appreciated her offer, you did not want to be back here sobbing and seeking refuge in a week. 

 You shook your head, trying to free yourself of the thoughts taking over your mind, taunting you, that you and Mingyu were destined to end. 

You two would be fine; you both survived high school and university and would continue to do so in the long run, but one question kept plaguing your mind. 

Why was the main aim to survive? 

Why wasn’t it to rekindle the flame? 

Why did it feel so desperate, and why did he feel so far away? ~~ Warning Signs  ~~

It felt weird. That’s the first thing you noted the minute you placed your hand on the doorknob of your apartment. You usually didn’t notice such insignificant details, but the doorknob felt cold.

Was it a preemptive sign that you’d be greeted with coldness from Mingyu? 

Or was it the frost that had settled over your relationship that made everything you touched feel cold?

You drew in a deep breath for courage, something to face him. You knew him forever and didn’t know where the sudden apprehension came from. Why did it all feel so difficult? 

“Baby!” You were greeted with Mingyu yelling. His arms moved to wrap around your waist and carried you as he planted a soft kiss on your lips. 

“Missed you,” Mingyu mumbled against your lips, making you smile, but that moment was short-lived when you saw the state of the house. 

“What’s wrong? I know I didn’t do anything, considering you just walked in?” Mingyu joked, placing you down on the floor. 

“The house is a state. You knew I was coming home today. Why is it such a mess?” You complained, and Mingyu frowned, following you into the living room. 

“Why don’t you nap, and I’ll clean up?” Mingyu offered, and you shook your head. 

“How would I sleep if you’re cleaning up? It’d be noisy, jeez, Mingyu. You know it’s not rocket science to keep a household together,” you nagged, making him frown at you. 

“Why are you like this? You just walked into the house and started bitching, I thought you’d update me about how the trip was, but instead, you’re here kicking up a fuss,” Mingyu threw back, and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“A fuss? Mingyu, there’s nothing to update. All I got was the third degree about why my boyfriend of ten years can’t commit to anything more. Coming home, I realised her concerns were warranted because you’re still that kid, Mingyu. You wanted to be composed and strong, but even vocalising a future without him hurt you. You need to grow up because I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,” your voice faltered at your last words. 

“Wow, why don’t you tell me how you feel?” Mingyu mocked sarcastically, and you knew what he was doing. He was using his pride to cover his hurt, and you hated this quality of his. It made him annoying and standoffish. 

“I’m so over this. When you want to grow up and have a conversation like an adult, find me, but I’m taking a nap, and once I’m done, I’ll clean up; don’t bother helping. I’m used to cleaning up your messes for you,” you spat, knowing your words hit Mingyu hard. There is so much venom lacing your comments, piercing Mingyu’s heart. 

“The bedroom, you should sleep in the guest room. It’s a mess in our bedroom,” Mingyu mumbled, and you rolled your eyes at him, scoffing. 

“Of course it fucking is. What in this house isn’t a mess?” You asked, making Mingyu look down to the ground. You knew you had gone too far, but you had to make him hear you, and sadly, he only heard you when you were like this. 

“Whatever, I’m going to take a nap,” you mumbled, not having the energy to fight any longer as sleep started seeping into your bones. 

You awoke a couple feeling extraordinarily guilty and groggy, but Mingyu should have known better. You never needed the house to look perfect, but it should have been clean. Or livable, like adults.  

You groaned, deciding to get out of bed and shower before starting the housework. At least it’d wake you up a bit. Since you were in the guestroom, you couldn’t find anything else to wear except one of Mingyu’s oversized shirts, and while you wanted to be petty and not put on anything that resembled him, you knew you were taking it too far. 

You sighed, putting on his shirt, smiling at you wrapped up in his clothes, taking in his scent. You never told him, but it always felt like he hugged you tightly, keeping you safe whenever you wore his clothes. They were like a security blanket, one you needed desperately because the owner of the clothes lately gave you no assurance about the relationship. 

“Mingyu?” You spoke as you stepped out into the hallway and walked into the living room. It was neat, clean, and tidy, and you immediately felt guilty. Mingyu didn’t deserve your harsh words; he would eventually get the job done, but that’s the problem. It was inevitable, and you didn’t know if you could wait any longer. 

You walked towards your shared bedroom to find Mingyu fluffing the pillows and jumping slightly when you touched his back, startling him. 

“Sorry, you woke up early, nearly done,” Mingyu rambled, and your heart broke when you heard his voice crack and took in his swollen, red eyes and puffy nose. 

“Baby,” you cooed, and Mingyu glared at you, jerking away from your touch. 

“Don’t call me that. I’m not a fucking kid,” Mingyu spat as he threw the pillow onto the bed and walked over to his side of the bed and sat down, and you crawled onto the bed and sat between his thighs, making him look at you.

“I’m so sorry, I was frustrated,” you apologised, and Mingyu scoffed. 

“You used all my insecurities, our past, and the fights we’ve had against me, and that sucked. You called me a kid. You insinuated that I couldn’t keep a household together when I’ve fought tirelessly for us for the past ten years,” Mingyu exclaimed in annoyance, his words making you snap. 

“No, you didn’t fight for us; you fought just to have the idea of us, but you got comfortable, but that’s all you’ve ever done. You’ve never taken the next step,” you cried out, and Mingyu groaned. 

“You’re insane. I fought, kept up with your life, adjusted mine, and did all that because I love you, but I don’t know what else to do because clearly, nothing I do is enough for you,” Mingyu answered, his voice getting softer. 

“You’re right, you did, but you stopped and got comfortable fuck, Mingyu. I don’t know if you see a future with me. You’ve given me no indication,” you started to say, earning a glare from Mingyu. 

“What do you want me to propose?” Mingyu asked, making you glare at him. 

“Not like this, and not because I forced you,” you added, and Mingyu groaned, getting off the bed and fiddling around in the drawer next to you. 

“I was going to do it tonight,” Mingyu admitted calmly as he tossed a black velvet box onto the bed. 

“What?” You asked, and Mingyu rolled his eyes at your confused expression. 

“I was going to give you forever tonight, but you never fucking wait, do you? You always rush into the future without caring for what you leave behind. You’ve been five steps ahead of me for so long, and forgive me if I slipped up somewhere along the way, but I got tired of running after you when you’re so ready to let go of me,” Mingyu answered tearfully. 

Mingyu plopped down on the bed, his back to you, his head hanging low. You could hear him take in shuddered breaths, and your heart broke because you knew you had hurt him this time. 

“Mingyu,” you started to say, moving simultaneously to place a hand on his shoulder, making him look at you with teary eyes as he turned around to sit on the edge of the bed to face you. 

“I know I’m not everything you want in a partner. I just thought our love would be stronger. That it would conquer everything, that you’d love me harder than our problems? I know I did, but I guess that’s how immature I am because I guess that’s not reality,” Mingyu lamented, and even though you knew his words could be misconstrued to hurt you, that wasn’t the case. He was thinking out loud. 

“Mingyu,” you repeated, making him sigh as he moved back to sit against the headboard, patting the space between his thighs again. This time, you moved to sit between them quickly, your hands moving to pull him into a tight embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled into Mingyu’s hair as you patted his back, moving as he cried into the embrace. 

“For what?” Mingyu mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. 

“For ruining a proposal?” Mingyu asked, letting out a dry laugh as he pulled away from the embrace, wiping his tears away and staring at you. 

“You didn’t. I guess this fight was bound to happen fuck. I knew we were falling apart, but I foolishly thought that if I ignored our problems or loved you harder, then it’d be okay, we’d be okay,” Mingyu admitted, placing a hand on your cheek and wiping away a tear. You hadn’t realised you were crying until he wiped away the tears. 

“But I only did one thing. I only ignored our problems, and I know I only ignored you. I love you more than life, but I failed to show you how much, and now I’m hoping that a shiny ring will fix it all, and I know it won’t,” Mingyu continued to speak, taking a deep breath before speaking. 

“I’ve used up all my good graces, that I’m sure of, but can we try? One more time? Please? I don’t think I can let you go, not yet. I don’t think I can ever let you go, but if you give me one more chance, my love. I’ll try, and if it’s over, I’ll let you go. Don’t give up on me,” Mingyu begged, and you nodded. 

“Mingyu, I’m so sorry. I should have conveyed my feelings to you in a healthier manner instead of simply yelling. Everything I heard from my mum this weekend was in my mind, and I couldn’t get it out. I just kept going over it, again and again, and I hated it, and I guess I just took it out all on you, and I’m so sorry,” you apologised, cradling his face in your hands. 

“No, it’s okay. I think we both saw this fight coming. I guess it’s easier to rip off the bandaid?” Mingyu joked, a sad smile adorning his handsome face. 

“I just felt so far away from you, so distant, and I guess when everyone questioned me about the integrity of my relationship. It just annoyed me, and instead of talking to you, I lashed out, and I’m sorry for that,” you apologised, meaning every word. 

“I love you; I do. I know I haven’t been good at showing it, fuck, our last date was five months ago,” Mingyu started to say, and you knew he’d begin to spiral if you didn’t shut him up in the best way you knew. 

“Mingyu,” you said softly, making him look at you as you inched closer and crawled onto his lap, his hands naturally finding your waist. 

“We’ll talk, and we’ll be okay,” you encouraged before placing your lips onto his, making him melt into your touch. His hand moved from your waist to rest on the hem of your shit, well, his shirt, but he didn’t care.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groaned as you moved your lips away from his to latch onto his neck, kissing the soft skin, gently nipping it, leaving faint marks, and running your tongue over the spots you bit. 

“Baby, if you keep doing that,” Mingyu started to say as you pulled away from his neck to peel the shirt off your body, leaving you in your underwear. 

“I know we have a lot to talk about, and sex isn’t going to fix anything, but I do, for once, want to feel close to you again. I want to be loved by you,” you admitted, and Mingyu nodded, understanding what you meant as he got off the bed and peeled off his clothes. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” you blurted out, making Mingyu laugh. 

“Ten years and you still think I’m hot?” Mingyu asked, and you smiled fondly at him. 

“You’re always the most handsome man to me, doesn’t matter how many years,” you admitted, making Mingyu smile at you. 

“Lie down on your back, princess. I need to show you just how much I love you,” Mingyu instructed, and you nodded, quickly adjusting yourself until you were lying down on the bed, head on the pillow, making Mingyu grin at you as he crawled between your legs. 

Mingyu leaned forward, wrapping his lip around your nipple while his other hand massaged your other breast. Mingyu moved his mouth to your other breast and flicked and licked your nipples until they were hard. 

Mingyu gave them a final flick, earning a whimper from you.  “Oh, the sounds you make for me. I like them,” Mingyu praised as he reached for your panties. Mingyu pulled them off and threw them across the room. Mingyu rolled his eyes and parted your legs, and placed a soft kiss on your clit, making you buck your hips into his mouth. 

Mingyu ran his tongue along your slit. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, interlocking them at your stomach. Mingyu smirked against your pussy, knowing that he could eat you out for ages in this position, and you wouldn’t be able to move, and all you could do was fall apart on his tongue repeatedly.

This is precisely what Mingyu intended to do as he flicked your clit with his tongue, then wrapped his mouth around your clit, his tongue tracing circles along the swollen nub. Mingyu kept licking you, his pace never faltering, and his rhythm never changing. 

“Fucking hell,” you moaned as you threw your head back in pleasure. 

“So good,” you praised, making Mingyu smirk, continuing his movements, making you shake in his grip. 

“Mingyu,” you cried out in pleasure as you fell apart on his tongue, but Mingyu didn’t stop just because you came. He kept going, sucking on your clit as you rode your orgasm on his tongue. 

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you whimpered as he kept licking you, you were sure you were wailing, but you didn’t care. 

Not when you were on the precipice of your second orgasm. Your second orgasm hit you harder, and your hands moved to his head as you gently pushed his mouth away from your cunt. Mingyu smiled at you, taking in your fucked out expression.

You sat up abruptly, reaching out to touch his hard cock, but Mingyu stopped you. 

“Not tonight. I need to feel you, my love,” he said as he took his cock in his hands and moved to line it up along your pussy. 

“Fuck,” you gasped out as he entered you. It had been, so you two had sex, so the stretch was a slight shock but one you’d gladly welcome.  “Baby, you’re so tight, fuck,” Mingyu hissed as he pushed in further, making you clench around him immediately. You moaned as Mingyu bent down to pull you into a kiss as he started to thrust into you. 

You groaned and babbled nonsense as Mingyu pounded into you, moving his hand down to rub your clit as he fucked you. 

“Fuck,” you choked out, holding onto his toned arms. 

“Cum, pretty girl,” Mingyu encouraged as his fingers moved faster against your clit, making you shake and tighten on his cock. 

You held onto his muscular arms, “cum, baby,” Mingyu spoke breathlessly, making you shake and tighten around him. It felt incredible, making Mingyu groan as you came around him. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Mingyu chanted as he pounded into you, groaning as he buried his head between your breasts as he came. Mingyu placed a soft kiss on your lips, slowly pulling out of you. 

“That was amazing,” you muttered. Mingyu smiled as he laid down next to you and pulled you into his toned chest,

“I’m not saying this to avoid anything, but I know I skipped every step to make things right,” Mingyu said, pulling away gently from you.  

“Look, you’ve had a long journey home and a shitty welcome back. I ordered dinner. It should be here soon. Help yourself. Why don’t we chat tomorrow?” Mingyu offered, and you nodded at him. 

Mingyu smiled softly as he moved closer to you and kissed your forehead softly. 

“We’ll be okay,” he said with a smile, except you didn’t know if you could believe him. 

Despite the mind-blowing sex, you had just opened a bandaid that held in ten years of hurt. 

Now it was open. You would have to feel every burn and sting before you two could heal, and what if that wound was too far gone to recover?

 What if there was no saving you two?

~~ You Were My Crown  ~~

“Morning,” you mumbled to Mingyu the following day when he walked into the kitchen, hair wet, fresh out of the shower, handsome as always. 

“Hey,” Mingyu replied, walking over to kiss your forehead, smiling fondly at you as he sighed, sitting down on one of the counters by the kitchen island. 

“So, I was thinking that after last night, as amazing as it was, we should talk,” Mingyu said, and you pouted, nodding. 

While you did want to just bask in the bliss and romance of last night with him, you knew if you kept pushing your feelings down, then there would be no saving you two, so you decided to sit across from him, making him grin as he placed a business card on your lap. 

“A divorce attorney? Hate to break to you, but we aren’t married,” you joked as you picked up the card. 

“Oh, couples counselling?” You said aloud, reading the card, and Mingyu nodded at you. 

“I got this from one of my Hyung. They said that when they were about almost to call it quits with their partner, they went here, and even if it was painful and made them feel vulnerable, it’s the only thing that kept them together,” Mingyu explained, placing a hand on your knee. 

“You think we’re that far gone that we need professional help?” You asked with a dry laugh, and Mingyu shrugged. 

“I don’t think we’re too far gone, but we’ve been together for so many years that I don’t think it’d be too shocking if we’re both holding in a lot and not being straight up with each other, at times and I don’t want what happened last night to happen again. I don’t want us holding things in and exploding,” Mingyu answered calmly. 

“Even if the sex was amazing,” Mingyu added, making you smile at him. 

“Okay, shall we sort out an appointment or what?” You asked, making Mingyu smile sheepishly at you. 

“I kind of already sorted a slot out for us. They open early. They got us a slot today at 4 pm. Is that okay?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded at him. 

“Should I take it as a good sign that you’re so eager to fix us? Or a bad sign that you’re so ready to vent about me?” You joked, making Mingyu pout at you. 

“A good sign; I love you so much, and I’ll be damned if I let you go without a fight,” Mingyu answered. 

“Let me go?” You repeated.

“I mean if you want out and realise you deserve better after all this, I guess I’ll let you go,” Mingyu mumbled, unable to look at you. His answering, albeit genuine, made you scoff at him. 

“Wow, nice to see your resignation already,” you muttered, making Mingyu sigh deeply. 

“I’m not giving up, but tell me you don’t already have one foot out the door?” Mingyu asked, making you baulk at him. 

“Why would you even think that?” You asked, and Mingyu rolled his eyes at you, letting out a humourless chuckle. 

“You weren’t here, but a gift hamper did arrive from your boss, and while I never snoop, the card was stuck on the hamper. It was a card nudging you to take the plunge and be a manager. Across the world. Might I add? When were you going to tell me?” Mingyu asked, and you sighed. 

“You said you didn’t want to hear about work at home, remember?” You fired back, and Mingyu groaned. 

“I told you that five months ago when I had just lost my job, I wanted you to be able to speak to me. I don’t want surprises like that,” Mingyu gritted, and you sighed. 

“So I’m meant to be able to read your mind?” You asked, and Mingyu shook his head. 

“It’d be so much easier, wouldn’t it? You never give me a warning ever. You just fucking blindside me, you did this with this apartment, and you did it with this possible promotion,” Mingyu fumed, making you blink at him. 

“Look, can we just save this for the therapist?” Mingyu said, inhaling deeply, and you nodded at him, unable to speak. 

The apartment? You thought to yourself. Mingyu was elated when you brandished the new keys three years ago. Just how much had he held in, and for how long? 

You were ignoring Mingyu for the rest of the day. Even when he came to get you to go to the therapist’s office, you glared at him, ignoring his outstretched hand, walked past him to your car and waited impatiently for him to get in so you could drive to the therapist’s office. 

“Can you at least wait for me to put my seatbelt on? Before you start driving?” Mingyu asked sarcastically, annoyance lacing his words. 

“Not my fault you’re fucking slow,” you bit back. You weren’t even sure what you were mad about, the fact that the gift ambushed him and didn’t give you a chance to explain. You felt guilty, and instead of speaking to him about that, you thought it’d be best to mask your hurt with insults. 

“So, fucking slow,” Mingyu muttered, buckling himself in, and you started to drive once he was safely fastened. 

“So, fucking slow, I’m always behind, aren’t I? I never know what you’re up to, or maybe that’s because you’re too fast,” Mingyu spat out in annoyance. 

“I waited for you to put your seatbelt on, right?” You retorted weakly, making Mingyu scoff at you. 

“That’s the only time you’ve waited for me, and if killing me wasn’t a crime, then I’m sure you would have driven off without a care for me,” Mingyu fumed, making you cower in your seat.

Is that what he thought of you? 

You tried not to let it show. You tried not to let the hurt show, but you couldn’t hold it in once you were in the parking lot of the therapist’s office. 

“We can get out, you know?” Mingyu sassed, earning a choked sob from you. 

“Is that what you think of me? I’m so busy trying to move ahead that I’d leave you for dead?” You asked, staring at Mingyu; your eyes blurred with tears, and your heart ached at Mingyu’s words. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I just fuck. I got frustrated,” Mingyu started to say, earning a glare from you.

“I get frustrated too, and you know, especially with you and our situation, but I have never once wished that you were dead. I wish we’d stop fighting and we were on the same page, sure, but dead? Fuck you, Mingyu,” you cried out, making Mingyu frown as he reached over to undo your seatbelt and pulled you across the console onto his lap. 

“I hate that you even could think of that. How could you think I would even want you dead?” You asked, smacking your fists childishly against his chest, making him pout as he took your hands into his. 

“I’m sorry, I am. I did misspeak. In some shitty way, I feel like if you do ever leave me, then it sure as shit will feel like death,” Mingyu admitted making you frown. 

“Why are you so hell-bent on the idea that I will leave you?” You asked, annoyed at his rhetoric, that you’d leave him. 

“I don’t know. After last night, the way you lost it, I don’t blame you, but damn, can you blame me. As I said, the way you reacted last night hurt. While I’m not shocked, I can’t deny that it hurt, but that wasn’t an excuse for what I said,” Mingyu answered, and you nodded at him. 

“You’re damn right it wasn’t,” you choked out, making Mingyu smile softly at you. 

“How’s this when the therapist asks what my downfalls are? I’ll explain that I’m not great at filtering my thoughts?” Mingyu offered, cradling your face, and you pouted, nodding at him. 

“No, that’s unnecessary, just don’t say stupid shit like that,” you pouted, and Mingyu nodded, kissing your lips. 

“I won’t, I promise. Now shall we go before someone thinks that we’re fucking in the car?” Mingyu asked, a smile creeping onto his handsome face, and you nodded, giggling at him. 

“Would that be so bad?” You teased, and Mingyu smiled as he pulled you in for a kiss. 

“No, it wouldn’t, but our appointment is in ten minutes, so shall we?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, placing a final kiss on his lips. 

“Let’s go,” Mingyu said, sneaking another kiss as you finally climbed out of the car. 

“Please make yourselves comfortable, and Doctor Kwan will be out to see you both in a minute,” the receptionist at the therapist’s office instructed you and Mingyu, and you both nodded before plopping onto the sofa. 

“This is so oddly comforting. I mean, the room, I thought it’d be like a doctor’s office, but it has a sofa and tissues and flowers on the wall,” you rambled nervously. 

“Yeah, I guess therapists want you to be comfortable, especially when you’re about to be very vulnerable for them,” Mingyu offered lamely, unable to come up with a proper answer. You saw him fidgeting and took his hands in yours. 

“Breathe. We’re here to work on ourselves. We’re going to be okay,” you said calmly, not entirely sure if what you said was a lie, but right now, you didn’t care if you had to lie to him. He was too jumpy.

“Mr & Mrs Kim, please accept my apologies. I just wanted to prepare the notes before we begin our session,” Dr. Kwan said as he sat across you two. 

“Well, you might want to apologise again. We aren’t married,” Mingyu said with a smile, but his voice had no real humour. You were prepared to ignore Mingyu’s quip until you saw him shoot a glare in your direction. 

“Oh, but we would have been, but tell me, Dr Kwan, am I meant to say yes when someone tosses a ring at me?” You shot back, and Mingyu scoffed, letting go of your hand and sinking into the couch. 

“We need your help because nothing I do is ever enough for her,” Mingyu spat out, making you groan. 

“Well, good to know what I’m walking into, Mr Kim. I should tell you that I most certainly knew you weren’t married. Often, couples hide their pain from their therapists, pretend it’s all good, and then tear each other apart behind closed doors. It was, hmm, call it a trick? This way, I can understand how temperamental and fragile this situation and I can provide and facilitate a safe space for you, too,” Dr Kwan explained, making Mingyu glare at him. 

“So, you made me insult my girlfriend for science?” Mingyu mocked, and you sighed. 

“No, he just pushed a button that I’d push, and you’d do the same behind closed doors, too, so instead of embarrassing me further, can you please shut up and let him work?” You asked curtly.  

“Okay, let me set a few ground rules before I get to work,” Dr Kwan started to say as Mingyu shot you a sad look. You immediately felt bad for snapping at him, but you couldn’t forget how ridiculous he was. 

 “Y/N, is it okay to address you by your first name?” Dr Kwan asked. You nodded.

“Mr Kim, is it okay to address you as Mingyu?” Dr Kwan asked, looking at Mingyu, and he hummed in response. 

“Perfect,” Dr Kwan said, leaning back. 

“As I was saying, rules. While I’m giving you guys a safe space to work things through, you must also be committed to ensuring this space stays safe. I appreciate anger, annoyance and frustration, but snarky, underhanded digs will not be tolerated or helped. Telling the other to shut up won’t help either. You can disagree and provide your perspective, but you will not interrupt or ignore each other and talk over one another. Can we agree to that?” Dr Kwan asked, staring at you both, and you nodded immediately.

“Good, now, let’s start. What made you fall in love with Mingyu?” Dr Kwan asked, immediately jumping into the session. You found it a little unorthodox but liked that he didn’t waste time with small talk. 

“We started dating in high school, months before graduation. He was a kind guy, and while he could have fit the bill of a stereotypical jock, he didn’t. He was humble, kind and grounded. I guess he was a jock with a heart,” you smiled softly, recalling that Mingyu was indeed just that. 

“He and I were paired up for a project, and I guess after we got our grades, I gave him a big hug, and somehow that hug turned into a kiss, and I guess, ten years later, here we are, in therapy,” your sweet tone fading and turning into a biter tone as you looked at the floor. 

“See, this is what she does, thinks of something nice and then fucks it up by following it up with some realistic bullshit. You were doing so well just reminiscing, and you couldn’t just stick to it?” Mingyu asked, his voice rising. 

“Another rule, no yelling,” Dr Kwan warned, making Mingyu groan. 

“She never lets us be happy long enough. She must always bring up something that kills the moment,” Mingyu added bitterly. 

“Then why are you with me if I’m such a killjoy?” you taunted, making Mingyu wipe away a tear. 

“Because I fucking love you because you’re so amazing and sure you’re persistent. The need to always think about the future is a pain. But I’m okay with it because I assumed I was part of that future, but I’m not sure if I still am recently,” Mingyu mumbled, making you groan. 

“You two need to hit reset. There’s a lot here, I want to see you both separately and together, but I need you two to try something for now. Throughout therapy, we will uncover a lot, a lot of love that you two have for each other, but we will also uncover a lot of pain and hurt, and I don’t want either of you not to have a space to cry it out, so can I suggest that for the next three months, we try something?” Dr Kwan offered, and you both nodded. 

“Anything to save us,” Mingyu mumbled, and you scooched over closer to him, placing your hand on his thigh, making him smile sweetly at you. 

“Ten years is a long time, and sometimes, you become accustomed to each other, which is wonderful, but it also means you hold in a lot. Anger, resentment and hurt, but because you’ve been together so long, you often suppress these emotions and hope they’ll go away, but they don’t. Instead, they linger like bad perfume, and it gets too much, and that’s where you two are now. I can see you are trying your best to hold onto the relationship, but you’re also scared, to be honest, for fear that it’ll go away, so here’s what I suggest,” Dr Kwan explained, pausing to take a sip of his water. 

“So, here’s what I propose, separate bedrooms for the next three months. You two can talk and kiss and be cuddly, but no sex because sex, as good as it may be, undoes a lot of the work, so if you two slip up, I won’t be mad, but it’s more work on your end. This process will take a lot out of you both, therapy, and it’s going to be new adjusting to a new dynamic, but it’s to allow you both a safe space to vent and to be you two have been with each other you’ve lost yourselves along the way, it’s time to find what you two are as individuals before you two can be a couple again,”

 “We never broke up. You know that, right?” Mingyu said, glaring at Dr. Kwan. 

“I’m aware, but you two are also just holding on, and I’m guessing that’s not enough?” Dr Kwan challenged, and Mingyu huffed out. 

“So, what we move out? Or one of us does?” Mingyu asked, continuing to glare at Dr. Kwan. 

“We have three bedrooms; we can just separate our stuff. We can each move into one of them for now,” you suggested, placing a hand on Mingyu’s thigh and making him look at you with sad eyes. 

“I just, I get that this is therapy, but why does it feel like you’re making us break up before we even have a chance,” Mingyu answered sadly, making you smile softly at him. 

“I’m telling you two to hit reset. You both need a fresh start, not away from each other, but you two need a break,” Dr Kwan answered softly, and Mingyu sighed, nodding. 

 “It’s three months, and we will evaluate every week. Is that good?” Dr. Kwan asked, and you nodded, noticing that Mingyu nodded slowly. 

“Three months, and we’ll be, okay?” Mingyu asked, turning to face you. 

“Yeah, we will,” you answered, unsure if you two would be, but you had to try.  

You had to try for him. 

For you.  ~~ I’m Not Your Problem Anymore  ~~

“So, that went well?” Mingyu said slowly, making you roll your eyes at his words as you kept driving. 

“The digs, the underhanded comments, you think that went well?” You asked, and Mingyu frowned. 

“You weren’t exactly a saint either,” Mingyu mumbled, and you sighed deeply. 

“Can we deal with this once we get home? I don’t fancy fighting while I’m driving,” you asked, and Mingyu hummed in response as he stared out the window, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong. 

“Talk,” Mingyu practically demanded the minute you shut the front door behind you. 

“Why the hell are you speaking to me like that?” You asked, and Mingyu groaned as he kicked off his shoes before sitting on the couch. 

 “You said some shitty things, and while I admit so did I, you acted like a child,” you started to say, stopping when you saw Mingyu’s hardened expression. 

“What is it with you calling me a child? May I remind you that we’re the same age?” Mingyu asked, glaring at you. 

“Then act like a fucking adult, you don’t talk, you lash out, and you just hope that love fixes everything, but it doesn’t. It’s not enough to keep two people together when they’re breaking apart,” you exclaimed, frustrated at yourself for being unable to maintain your calm and at him for never being realistic. 

“You always said that love will keep us together, that our love was stronger than anything out there. What happened to that girl? What happened to the girl who made wishes upon stars, kissed me goodnight, and hugged me whenever I was down? I fell in love with her,” Mingyu lamented, making your heart drop. 

“So, you don’t love me anymore?” You whispered, afraid of his answer. 

“I do, my love, but I’m just not sure you do,” Mingyu said, moving to wipe away a tear that fell down your cheek. 

“Why do you keep suggesting that?” You asked, shrugging his touch off, making him pout. 

“Well, you just moved away from my touch, in general, over, I don’t know, the last two years you’ve been in the future, and you’ve left me in the dust; you left me all alone. I mean, hell, I was the happiest when you told me you wanted to move in with me, but you didn’t even bother asking me to view a place. You just got the keys and showed up at my doorstep. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but it always felt like you’d cut me out of the process whenever you could,” Mingyu explained, his eyes getting glossy. 

“I know you wouldn’t intentionally make me feel unwanted, but that’s what it felt like. I felt like an understudy, waiting in the wings for you to consider my opinion,” Mingyu said. 

“I didn’t know,” you said lamely, and Mingyu nodded. 

“You wouldn’t, I never told you, and you’re not a mind reader, nor do I expect you to be. It would have been nice to know that you still cared for me even if everything went bad. Hell, the night I lost my job, you just kissed me and told me it’d be alright, and I get it, it’s a hard thing to comfort someone about, but my love, you didn’t even try, and granted, I’m sure there have been moments where I haven’t done my bit. Still, we were the couple that annoyed others with how mushy we were and how much we adored each other. Now it just feels like we tolerate each other,” Mingyu finished standing up, and you stood up and reached for his wrist, making him turn around to look at you. 

“Can you not walk away?” You asked, not a shred of anger in your voice. You just wanted to hear him. 

“I’m not. I am, however, getting some wine because I think we’ll need it,” Mingyu replied, pulling you into his chest and placing the softest kiss on your forehead. 

“Okay, so let’s talk,” you said, not wasting a second as Mingyu returned to the couch with two glasses of wine. 

“You waste no time, do you?” Mingyu asked, chuckling, and you shrugged. 

“I’d rather fix us sooner than later,” you commented, and Mingyu shrugged.

“Don’t good things take time? Besides, this isn’t something you can rush; didn’t you always tell me that patience is a virtue and that all good things take time?” Mingyu mumbled as he sipped his wine, making you glare at him. 

“What is with you and reminding me of everything I once did? Is that what you want? The ‘old’ me? The one you fell in love with ten years ago?” You snapped, making Mingyu frown. 

“You keep missing the point, I don’t yearn for the ‘old’ you, but I yearn for your love. It just seems like you’re putting up with me. I only remember the ‘old’ you because no matter how much we fought, I at least knew that you loved me,” Mingyu mumbled, making you frown at him. 

“Don’t fix it by saying that you love me. I know you do, but I wonder if you’re still in love me because that’s a big difference. I mean, some I know you do, but other days I feel like I’m watching you, unsure if I fit anywhere in your life, but what scares me most is that I’m not so sure I fit in your heart any longer,” Mingyu admitted taking a deep breath, before looking at you with teary eyes. 

“Can you tell me when I’ve hurt you? I’m sure it must have been many times with how you feel, but maybe the most recent example?” You asked, unsure how to respond to the fact that Mingyu poured his heart out to you, and all you could do was make him relive a moment where you had hurt him. 

“Not hearing about the promotion, that sucked, like I had to find out because of a present. Why didn’t you tell me?” Mingyu asked, nothing but hurt and genuine curiosity etching his features. 

“I guess when you told me you didn’t want to hear about work, I just stopped telling you. I didn’t want to make you upset,” you admitted lamely. 

“My love, I got over being let go. If I’m not wrong, I said that once, and a month later, I remember being fine and asking you to tell me about work and the hardships or the bad days at work, but you never did. You decided you wouldn’t share that part of your life with me. While I can understand why you thought I would continue holding a grudge, do you think I’d hold it until it broke us in two?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged. 

“Would you have taken the job?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted, and Mingyu nodded at you. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m over it, and if it’s something that’s in the past, I’m okay never to bring it up again,” Mingyu offered, and you smiled at him. 

“I’d like that a lot,” you answered. 

“I acted out of line with what I said in the car, and you’re right. I did act like a kid at the therapist’s office, but it’s just when it comes to the idea of possibly even losing you? Then my ability to think straight and act rationally goes to shit because there’s nothing rational about love, but you find that balance, and I’m willing to work on myself but wait for me? While I try and catch up?” Mingyu asked, making your lips tremble, and your tears fall. 

“I think for so long,” you started to say, pausing to wipe your tears away. 

“For so long, I thought you didn’t care. I thought you got comfortable, wanted to leave, or be comfortable enough to stay but not be with me. So I kept pushing on with my life because I didn’t think you wanted me to be in your future,” you admitted, staring into the wine glass. 

“Y/N, you and I. I guess we’ve both been living in different tenses. I’ve been too busy reminiscing our past, and you’ve been running into the future. It’s left our present a fucking shit show,” Mingyu observed, making you giggle at his description. 

“Let’s try? I want you to have the most amazing future, but can I ask you to slow down? Ever so slightly? To let me find my footing. I want to catch up with you so we can have a future. Together?” Mingyu asked, pulling you closer to him. 

“I can, and I’m sorry,” you apologised, and Mingyu shook his head. 

“It’s okay, from here on out, what we’ve both done, it’s forgotten and forgiven these next three months. Let us make a real go at this? At fixing us?” Mingyu asked, and you smiled in agreement. 

Mingyu grinned, pulling you into the softest kiss ever. 

“I know we are meant to separate rooms and all that, but can I just have you in my arms tonight?” Mingyu asked, kissing your forehead, and you nodded at him. 

You agreed because you didn’t know what the next three months would bring about, so for tonight, you just wanted to lay in his arms and forget the hurt and the reality because you’d never admit it like Mingyu would. Still, the thought of living in a world where he was no longer yours was enough to make you break your heart into a million pieces. 

“We’ll be okay,” you mumbled into Mingyu’s chest as he held you, and he responded with a kiss on your forehead. 

You frowned into the embrace. You just hoped it would come true if you said something repeatedly. 

If you kept saying that you and Mingyu would be okay, you would be.  ~~ Balancing on Breaking Branches ~~

“Moving day, huh?” Mingyu joked, making you grin slightly at him. 

“Barely, we’re just diving up rooms and our stuff. It’s just three months,” you answered as you walked over to your closet and mentally sorted out what articles you wanted to take.

“Actually, you can just stay in this room. Besides, I don’t have much stuff anyway, just some clothes and my computer has always been in a separate room,” Mingyu offered, and you smiled at him. 

“Thanks, it’d be a nightmare if you made me move all my things out,” you laughed, making Mingyu smile. 

“Besides, it’s all temporary, three months, and I’m back to cuddling you every night and sleeping,” Mingyu smiled. 

“What are you smiling about?” You asked Mingyu as he grinned to himself, looking around the room. 

“Just kind of thinking how we broke into this room and every other room and surface in this apartment,” Mingyu said casually, a blush creeping onto his face as he recalled the memories, making you smile shyly. 

“Sex in every corner of the house. I still can’t believe we did it in a storage closet, of all things,” you recalled, smiling but shaking your head at how you and Mingyu had really come through on the idea of breaking into every part of the house. 

“But the sex was pretty good, wasn’t it? A tighter space meant that I had to hold you closer to me and fuck you harder,” Mingyu teased, his voice low, dangerous and teasing. 

“Mingyu,” you warned, unable to keep the smile off your face, as you moved away from the closet and sat on the bed. 

“Besides, I’m just recalling fond memories, especially when we have a sex ban placed on us for three months,” Mingyu explained with a pout, making you smile. 

“Anyways, do you know where I keep my phone charger? I usually use yours, so,” Mingyu trailed off, and you nodded at him, knowing that he never bothered because you were always there, and it just wouldn’t be the same for the next three months. 

“Yeah, this drawer,” you gestured to the bedside table beside you. Mingyu nodded, rummaging through the drawer, and you noticed he kept searching for a while. 

“Did you not find your charger?” You asked, turning to face him, your eyes widening when you saw what he held in his hand. 

“Mingyu,” you started to say, making him smirk at you.

“Is that what I think it is?” Mingyu asked, and you groaned, cursing yourself. Mingyu walked over and grabbed the device. 

“A vibrator in plain sight?” Mingyu teased.

 “Can you give it back?” You groaned, and Mingyu grinned at you.

“Is this the one we bought and took with us on our trip to Bali? Where you couldn’t get enough of me?” You gulped, and you felt your mouth water.

“Not my fault you were shirtless for the entire trip. It’s hard to behave when you look like that,” you huffed out as Mingyu walked back to the bed with the vibrator in his hand. 

“So I’m hot?” Mingyu asked with a smirk. 

“You know you are,” you mumbled, and you knew you were about to undo all the therapist’s work with your one movement, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

Not when Mingyu was looking at you like that, wetting his lips as he caressed the vibrator in his hand. 

“Oh, do I?” Mingyu asked, making you glare. 

Instead of answering, you grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him into you. Mingyu pulled you into a kiss and pushed you down, one hand moving to your jeans and undoing them. 

You kicked off your jeans and panties, and Mingyu’s knuckles met with your wet folds.

“You’re soaking wet,” Mingyu muttered against your lips, and you nodded.

“Wait,” Mingyu instructed as he pulled your shirt off, 

“Beautiful,” he praised as he took in your nude state. 

“Pretty,” Mingyu muttered, moving his mouth along your body as he ran the vibrator along your folds. 

“Fuck,” you hissed as the cold metal touched your swollen cunt. Mingyu pushed two fingers into you and switched on the vibrator. You felt your eyes roll back as he started thrusting his fingers in and out of you. While the vibrator constantly pulsated against your clit.

 “Fucking hell,” you groaned, grabbing his muscular forearm. 

“Good girl, you take my fingers so well,” Mingyu moaned, praising you as you fell apart under his touch. You let out whimpers, biting your lips to stop yourself from screaming in pleasure. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, and Mingyu smirked at you, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them to his lips. 

“Can’t we just, I guess, call that goodbye sex? Or something,” Mingyu asked as he stared at your fucked out expression.

“We could, but I think we need to tell our therapist,” you breathed, making him pout, “as good as that felt, we just took a few steps back,” you added, making Mingyu sigh as he leaned over to kiss you. 

“Three months, and we’ll be okay,” Mingyu claimed before placing another kiss on your lips. 

“This is just a little mistake. You wanted to honour his wish, but you also knew that lying would do you two no good. No need to tell the therapist,” Mingyu repeated, making you nod slowly at him. 

So, you did what was right. 

“Okay, Y/N, what you did wasn’t odd or unusual. Maybe couples slip up, especially when it comes to sex and trying not to have it, and I get it. You two have been together for ages. Giving up sex isn’t easy, nor exactly is it meant to be,” Dr Kwan clarified, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were undoing everything. 

“You’re human. It’s normal to slip up, but being honest and working from that is important,” Dr Kwan added. You nodded. 

“Well, still, I’m sorry,” you apologised, making Mingyu scoff. 

“You kissed me; may I remind you that? So, stop acting like you’re wronged or something. You make me sound like a dick,” Mingyu spat out, and you were about to respond when Dr. Kwan cleared his throat, stopping you. 

“Well, Mingyu, you might have just given us the material for our first session. When do you two think it all went wrong? Between you both? Mingyu, I’d like to hear from you, and then you, Y/N,” Dr. Kwan suggested.

“Y/N’s been gifted, so good at everything she does, and I guess I’ve gone with the flow, but being an adult in this unforgiving world, that’s not enough. Not even, and it seemed like every time she was successful or achieved something, it made me feel smaller and like I wasn’t enough,” Mingyu rambled, making you look at him. 

“I know she never did it on purpose, but that’s how I felt, and I guess I stopped trying to be better for her because it always seemed like she was too far away for me to catch up to, and so I was just happy being in her life, as a spectator,” Mingyu finished letting out a deep exhale. 

“I don’t begrudge her for succeeding. I wished that sometimes she could look away from the blinding lights of success to notice me, just for a second at least,” Mingyu added, shrugging. 

“Did you ever wish for her success to go away?” Dr. Kwan asked, and Mingyu shook his head. 

“Never, I only wished that maybe I could do half of what she did, maybe then I’d be enough for her, but I know that’s not what she ever thought, but I internalised her success as a sign of my failures,” Mingyu answered.

“Y/N, is there anything you’d like to add?” Dr. Kwan asked. 

“I don’t know what to say. I didn’t realise he felt like that,” you answered lamely. 

You didn’t realise that Mingyu felt the way he did. He was always so guarded with his response and just quiet and silently supported you no matter what you did.

“I never told her to be fair,” Mingyu interjected, and you sighed at him. 

“I can’t read your mind. How do you expect me to understand if you don’t tell me something?” You asked, and Mingyu stared at you in disbelief. 

“The way I read your mind about a proposal?” Mingyu asked, and you groaned. 

“Okay, you two, we need to hit pause. There’s too much here to not cause a massive fight,” Dr. Kwan said, interrupting you two. 

“She didn’t even tell me that she got an opportunity for a promotion or anything. She keeps so much to herself and then gets mad when I can’t read her mind,” Mingyu added, and you sat in annoyance, but you stayed quiet, knowing that he wasn’t wrong with his judgements. 

“I lost my job five months ago, and since then, she’s never really told me about her success and in her defence, I did tell her not to talk about it, but I know that after a week or so, I told her that it was okay, but she just kept everything to herself,” Mingyu added. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you started to say, turning to face Mingyu.

“I know you said it was okay, but you always put others before you, and I didn’t want to be another reason for you to suppress how you felt,” you explained, placing your hand on his, and he responded in kind, moving his hand to lace them with yours. 

“I see that love is not lost between you two. You need to figure out how to communicate. In a relationship as long as yours, it’s easy to assume that the other party knows or should know. Still, the truth is, all the familiarity and knowledge in the world is never enough to predict how humans will behave,” Dr. Kwan said wisely. 

“I went to visit my mum; the night before, we had a huge fight which led us here; she kept pushing and asking if something was wrong with us because it had been ten years, and there was no proposal. So, I kept trying to diffuse the situation, but unfortunately, her words sowed a seed of insecurity in me. I lost it and snapped at Mingyu, which caused him to reveal the fact that he was going to, in fact, propose to me that night,” you rambled, explaining what you thought was the final breaking point. 

“I see, Y/N. Mingyu, is being married something you two have always wanted to be? Or is that something that you two have never discussed?” Dr. Kwan asked. 

“We discussed it, I think, after our first year together. Mingyu brought it up,” you recalled, smiling at you fondly and starting to explain the memory.  ~~

Nine years ago

“In my defence, their vows were touching, and that’s why I ended up crying like a baby,” Mingyu defended, making you laugh as you wiped his teary eyes and kissed his red nose. 

You both were in the powder room, helping Mingyu look more presentable after he cried his eyes out at your cousin and her husband exchanging their vows. 

“But I also started to imagine, what if it was us up there? One day? Look, I always found weddings boring in the past because I was like fuck this. I’m always watching other people find their ‘happily ever after,’ but I have wanted that for us since you came into my life. Our happily ever after,” Mingyu declared, making you smile at him, your eyes holding but love and fondness for your boyfriend.

“Okay, I know we’re only 19 and legit, maybe way too young to decide the future now, but I know this for sure, regardless of when that moment happens. I just know that there is no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with; only you complete me, and a life without you, well shit, that’s just miserable, isn’t it?” Mingyu spoke, making you swoon at him. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” You asked as you pulled him into a soft kiss, making him smile into the kiss. 

“I think it’s me. I’m the lucky one,” Mingyu mused. 

“How about we’re both lucky?” You added, and Mingyu smiled. 

“Lucky to have found a love like this; yeah, we’re pretty fucking lucky,” Mingyu agreed as he pulled you into another kiss. 

~~

“Huh?” You asked as you felt Mingyu’s fingers on your face and realised he was wiping away your tears. 

“It was so much easier, and I just want that back,” you cried, and Mingyu, out of instinct, moved closer, pulling you in closer to him. 

“Y/N, you two were younger, and the world is kinder to two kids in love than adults in love. Nothing like taxes, societal expectations, or work threatens the tenderness and beauty of love. Still, with patience and dedication to fix the relationship, you can get through it, and it doesn’t seem like Mingyu wants anything else but the same thing as you,” Dr Kwan explained, making you smile through the tears and placing a kiss to Mingyu’s cheek, making him blush. 

“I’ll schedule you two for a week later, but let’s keep up the same routine. No sex and kisses are fine, but keep it to that. When you two filled out the form, I think you mentioned that your first date was at a dive bar? Why don’t you two, over the weekend, go to one, not as a date, but go and maybe rekindle the memories, remind yourselves that the pain of therapy is worth it,” Dr. Kwan suggested, and you both nodded. 

“We can do that,” Mingyu answered, and you smiled at him. 

Maybe this is why you two needed someone to guide you both through all the pain, and today felt like a breakthrough, and perhaps that’s what you both just needed, someone to help you get through the shitty parts to get to the good part. 

You two weren’t broken but bent, and someone needed to straighten you out. 

“We can. We can be okay again,” you mumbled, but you knew Mingyu heard it with the way he squeezed your hand softly. 

“We will,” he whispered in your ear. 

~~ Never Learned to Read My Mind ~~

You and Mingyu really did try hard. The kisses were kept to a minimum, almost so much that Mingyu got frustrated with you. He eventually pouted enough one evening. It ended up in you two having a thirty-minute make-out session. 

“We shouldn’t,” you mumbled as you continued to kiss him. 

“See, you say that, but you’re kissing me,” Mingyu replied, moving his lips away to speak, only to place them back on yours within a second.

“Mingyu,” you warned, pulling away and making him sigh at you. 

“Fine, but can you blame me? This is the first time you and I have spoken and kissed in two weeks, and no, that goodnight kiss three nights ago doesn’t count. I just get that Dr. Kwan said we should try to find ourselves and all that, but it feels like you’re acting like we’ve already broken up or something,” Mingyu admitted, frowning. 

“I’m giving us space to grow,” you defended, and Mingyu nodded. 

“I get that, but shouldn’t it foster an environment of encouragement? The space you’ve created is cold and uninviting, like hell. Your room door is always closed,” Mingyu added, making you pull away from his touch and sit next to him instead of on him. 

“I’m working, Mingyu. I don’t have as much free time as you, so forgive me if I want some peace and quiet while I work,” you sassed, and Mingyu pouted. 

“Free time? You mean unemployed?” Mingyu joked, but you glared at him. 

“Stop putting words in my mouth. You know that’s not what I meant to say,” you huffed, and Mingyu nodded. 

“Okay, forget it. I only say that because I wanted to show you something the other day, and your door was closed,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded at him. 

“So, show me now?” You suggested, and Mingyu nodded, pulling up yet another photo he took of a cake that served as inspiration–he’d been taking pictures of cakes, cookies and many other baked goods for the last few months, telling you it was for something unique. Still, to you, it just seemed like he was building up his ‘cakes I like’ Pinterest board.

“See?” Mingyu asked excitedly.

“What am I meant to be seeing? Another cake? All you do is take pictures of the cake. Where is this going?”

“You could have bothered to ask more about it instead of dismissing it entirely. I don’t dismiss things that excite you,” Mingyu mumbled. 

“Fine, show me,” you asked, and Mingyu shook his head at you. 

“No, because you’re asking because you feel bad, not because you care, forget it. You’re right it’s just cake. How would you notice? How would you notice when you haven’t noticed anything about me in the last few months?” Mingyu spoke, making you groan in frustration. 

“Sorry, that was unnecessary. Look after work tomorrow. I made reservations at a dive bar for us, I’ll send you a location, and you can head over after work?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded at him. 

“Night,” Mingyu mumbled, kissing your cheek as he got up and sulked as he walked to his room. 

You felt terrible. Since when did you stop caring about the little things, especially him? He was always doing much more, but you didn’t know why. It never felt like it was enough for you. 

“Hey!” Mingyu greeted you the following evening as you approached him at the dive bar. 

“This place is quite nice,” you commented, and Mingyu nodded. 

“Are you drinking?” Mingyu asked, and you shook your head. 

“I drove here,” you replied, and Mingyu pouted. 

“Let me drive and have a drink. I have a scratchy throat, so I can’t really drink,” Mingyu offered, and you looked at him in shock. 

“When did you get a cold?” You asked, had you really been so unkind and caring to not even ask your boyfriend if he was unwell. 

“Nah, just a tickle, don’t worry, I got meds, and I’m on the mend,” Mingyu added, ushering you away, and you frowned at him but decided against pushing further. 

You were glad you were tipsy, but you weren’t exactly happy at the scene unfolding in front of you an hour later. 

A random girl decided to approach Mingyu to gush about how handsome he was and how incredible his biceps were and even went so far as to trace his arms, and that was it: you saw red. 

You hated how he didn’t stop her, either. Instead, he giggled and flexed a bit more.

“Miss, do you always with other people’s boyfriends?” You spat out, and the girl stepped back in fear upon hearing the venom in your voice. 

“No, oh my god, I’m so sorry. You just didn’t look like you were his girlfriend. You just sat there, far away from him, and you two barely spoke, so I thought it was okay to appreciate it, but I’m so sorry,” the girl apologised, but you couldn’t help your anger. 

“So even then, you just flirt with anyone you see?” You asked, embarrassing the girl, and Mingyu turned to face you with a hardened expression, apologising to the girl first. 

“What the hell was that?” Mingyu 

“Home, now,” you answered, and Mingyu sighed as he paid for the bill while you stormed out of the bar. 

You stormed into the house, and Mingyu followed you into your room. You saw red. There was no other colour in the world, only red. You couldn’t believe Mingyu giggled and smiled at the girl like he did. 

The way he would with you.

“That was so uncalled for,” Mingyu started to say, making you whip your head to look at him. Your eyes were red and watery, and Mingyu immediately wanted to put the fight to bed and hold you in his arms. 

Mingyu mentally slapped himself, but all he did was laugh and smile at the girl. She complimented him, and for a second, he lost his mind and indulged because it had been so long since he felt good about himself. So long since someone called him handsome, and hell, you stopped acting like you were interested in him, but it was wrong and stupid, and he caused you to cry. 

“Right, me telling a girl to back off my man is wrong and pushing her away was uncalled for? Did you like it then? The way her tits pressed up against your chest. Is that why you didn’t pull away when she wrapped her arm around yours? Would you have backed away if I didn’t push her away, or would you have gone home with her?” You accused, ranting and firing away accusations at Mingyu, who paused to frown at you, but he knew he didn’t have a reason to defend himself. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t stop her, but I would have never cheated. I just got caught up in the attention, it has been so long since you ever showed me any affection, and I liked it, thinking that, oh, I don’t know, at least I’m not chopped fucking liver,” Mingyu fired back, making you shrink. 

“You couldn’t tell me that? You had to get some leggy chick to get your validation?” You asked, your voice trembling. 

“You don’t make it easy to speak to you. You’ve taken this ‘break’ so seriously that I feel like you’re just practising for the real thing. Last week, I got a new cookbook, and. In the past, you’d always be excited to see if I could replicate any recipes, but now? You didn’t even care to see it. I got a new shirt for our date night, and you didn’t compliment me. I’m not saying I need to be coddled, but you act like my presence is a bother, so forgive me if I wanted to seek out someone’s compliments because you know what? I can’t recall the last time you ever said I was good at anything,” Mingyu scoffed, making you standstill. 

“You have so many cookbooks; how is it different from the dozens you have? How was I meant to notice just one?” You asked, and Mingyu stared at you. 

“That’s not the point. Whenever I want to share anything with you, you act like it’s the biggest inconvenience or you don’t care. Either way, it doesn’t make me feel good about myself,” Mingyu sputtered out, his anger bubbling, and he knew he had to stop this fight before he said something he regretted. 

“Look, we’ve both had a lot to drink. Maybe we should talk about this later?” Mingyu offered, as he tried to guide you to the bed, to help you sleep so you wouldn’t continue this drunken rant. 

“So, you entertained her because she gave you attention, or was she prettier?” You asked, immediately feeling your eyes well up. You tried not to break in front of him. He was the one flirting with another woman, not you, but you couldn’t help how insecure it all made you. 

Was he done with you? Was this his subtle way of telling you he wouldn’t care?

“Hey, no, don’t you dare,” Mingyu interrupted your thoughts as he cradled your face. 

“No one is more perfect than you. I’m sorry for giving in to the attention. No matter how bad we are, it’s not an excuse,” Mingyu explained as he wiped away the tears that fell down his face. 

“But she noticed what I didn’t. Maybe deep down, that’s all you want, and I wish I were better for you,” you replied tearfully, making Mingyu’s heart ache with how you tore yourself apart. 

“Mingyu!” You squeaked when you felt him carry you and sit on the bed. 

“Take this off,” you mumbled, pointing to his shirt, and you stared at him for a second as he peeled his shirt off. 

You leaned down to kiss his shoulder, then another, until you reached his neck. 

“Y/N, baby, you’re drunk,” Mingyu groaned, trying to suppress a moan, hoping his body wouldn’t betray him as he melted under your touch. 

“We’ve had sex drunk before. I’m pretty sure our first time was when we were both drunk,” you spoke as you moved to kiss his jaw, making him wrap his arms around your waist. 

“Baby,” Mingyu groaned as his hands moved to rest above your ass. 

“Hm?” You asked, looking at him, pausing before your lips connected with his. 

“Let me show you just how much I love you,” Mingyu said, giving in to your touch as he stood up and swiftly placed you on the bed. Mingyu usually would at least take some time peeling your clothes off, unravelling each bit of your body to him, but he couldn’t wait tonight.

“So fucking pretty,” Mingyu praised as he laid between your thighs, your dripping cunt at his face. 

Mingyu slowly moved his finger inside you, “do you want to cum? You’re already clenching my finger so nicely, baby,” Mingyu praised as he rolled his thumb over your clit. You nodded. Mingyu pulled his finger out of you, making you whine. 

Mingyu smirked at you before latching his lips onto your clit. 

“Fuck,” you moaned at the contact.

“Mingyu, wait, stop,” you said, making him sit up immediately. 

“Did I go too far?” Mingyu asked, worrying, lacing his handsome features. You shook your head and moved your foot to his growing bulge. 

“Please fuck me, just I need you,” you begged, and Mingyu wasted no time in peeling off his clothes and positioning himself between your legs and pushing into you, making you moan and hiss at the stretch.

Mingyu placed your legs on either side of his shoulder. He pushed in and fucked you hard and deep. His pace was relentless, and you whimpered at his pace.

“Fuck, Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry, but I need to cum,” Mingyu moaned as he pounded into you.

 “It’s okay, fuck me, Mingyu.”

Mingyu removed your legs from your shoulder and flipped you onto your hands and knees. He pushed into you, his hands gripping your hips. You nearly collapsed at how deep he was hitting inside you.

“Fuck, more, please. Mingyu.” He bit down on your shoulder then kissed and ran his tongue over the area.

 “Fuck, fuck,” Mingyu cursed as he came inside you, moaning as his cum filled you. You felt him flip you over again, his mouth latching onto your cunt again, licking and cleaning you, making you cum again in the process, and you pushed his head away gently as you came again. 

“No more baby, too sensitive,” you moaned, making Mingyu smile sweetly as he placed a soft kiss on your trembling pussy. 

“Wait, stay, please,” you asked, pouting at him, making him smile. 

“I will. I was just going to clean you up properly and give you a shirt. You always get cold after sex,” Mingyu said, making you smile. 

“Stay here,” Mingyu said, kissing your forehead as he headed out to grab you a shirt. He returned with a wet towel and gently pressed it against your throbbing pussy, smirking at your reaction. 

A few minutes later, you were clean and dressed in one of his shirts. 

You were already nodding when Mingyu’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Mingyu moved his hand under your shirt and placed his arm around your waist. 

You moaned softly as he drew small circles into your skin. You gently pushed his arm away and turned to bury your face in his chest, making him smile.

“I love you,” Mingyu mumbled, and you weren’t entirely sure if you heard it, but for a while, you didn’t mind falling asleep in his arms, pretending that you two were alright.

~~ I Think I’ve Seen This Film Before ~~ 

“So, you two had a fight and fixed it with sex,” Dr Kwan summarised, and you and Mingyu looked to the ground. 

“Look, we’re barely three months into this, and while I like that you both love each other enough to be intimate, it seems like you use sex as a coping mechanism to put actual issues on the back burner until they inevitably blow up in your face,” Dr Kwan added. 

“It was a misunderstanding,” Mingyu defended. 

“A series of misunderstandings has brought you two here, and right now, you two are giving in too quickly,” Dr Kwan added. 

“Maybe three months is too long. Can we try a month, no intimacy, nothing, please? Then we can revisit this issue?” Dr Kwan suggested, and you both nodded. 

“Dr Kwan, can I request one thing, though? Can I ask that my lovely girlfriend and I go for one more date, like a proper one, the way we used to be before we tried the full-on ‘break’ thing?” Mingyu asked, and Dr. Kwan nodded. 

“Y/N?” Dr Kwan asked, and you shrugged. 

“I don’t see why not,” you answered, making Mingyu smile, and you noticed how his smile reached his eyes for the first time in so long. 

“We’re here!” Mingyu announced as he parked the car outside a carnival, helped you out of the car, and held your hand like he always did, complimenting you from home to the carnival gates. 

“It’s crazy empty?” You asked him, and he smiled.

“It opens next week, but I pulled a few strings; I wanted to enjoy this with you and only you,” Mingyu admitted, a blush creeping onto his face, making you smile at him. 

“Shall we?” He asked you nodded. 

He took you to nearly every booth, and with each new game, your smile grew, as did his. You didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with him all over again, but here was proving you wrong. 

“Hey, you okay?” Mingyu waved his hand in front of your face. You were both finally back in the car after a night of kisses, jokes and games, and you smiled at him. 

“Yeah, just thinking,” you answered. 

“About?” Mingyu asked, and you turned to face him, 

“I didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with someone again, but tonight, with you. I think I may have just fallen in love with you all over again,” you admitted, making Mingyu smile as he leaned over to pull you into a kiss. 

“I love you,” Mingyu said as he pulled away from your lips. 

“I love you too,” you answered, making him grin. 

“We’re okay, we’ll be okay,” Mingyu assured as he took your hand and drove home. 

However, when he said it, you didn’t find any comfort in his words because you knew that you were about to hurt him, not because you wanted to but because you had been reflecting and noticed that all this time. 

Mingyu had been bending backwards to become the version of a man you supposedly wanted. Still, all this time, you only complained and poked holes and found flaws; he loved you despite all this. His love for you was too forgiving, too great, and one you didn’t think you deserved any longer. 

So you could only do what you did best, and that was to hurt him before he broke himself trying to fix the both of you.

~~ You Were My Crown  ~~

Mingyu was fuming. Well, not even raging would do justice to how angry he was. It was almost comical. He thought smoke would come out of his ears like a cartoon character. It would have almost been funny. 

Almost. 

However, nothing about this moment or the letter in Mingyu’s hand was funny; none of this was funny. 

“Hey,” you chirped as you walked into Mingyu’s bedroom. He was late for dinner, and your smile dropped when you saw his face and then recognised the paper in his hand. 

“Mingyu,” you started to say and stopped as he held a hand up to stop you. 

“Dear Y/N, you’re incredible, and I want you to consider this position again. You have insights that set you apart from everyone else. I think you could do an amazing job helping us set up our offices in Japan,” Mingyu read out the letter, his voice fading into a whisper at the mention of Japan. 

“I thought we were past this?” Mingyu asked, and you immediately felt yourself become defensive.

“No, I only said that to calm you down, but Mingyu, this is my career,” you protested, making Mingyu scoff. 

“I’d never stop you from pursuing your dreams. I know you’re good at your job. I’d encourage you to take this position, but you lied, and you got this three days before the date night and didn’t bring it up? It fucking hurts, and when I asked you if you were happy, you said yes? But kept this from me? What were you going to do, just fucking pack up and leave me?” Mingyu asked, raising his voice, making you roll your eyes at him. 

“Don’t you dare give me an attitude! You hid this from me. Why?” Mingyu asked, tossing the letter onto the floor. 

“We can still talk about it, and then we can figure out a way with schedules, and maybe I can save and fly out and visit you,” Mingyu rambled, making you bite your lip as you knew what you were about to say next would break him. 

“I accepted the job,” you whispered, but Mingyu heard you clearly. Your voice rang in his ears, four words taunting him, haunting him. 

“Mingyu,” you said, trying to approach him, and he moved away from you. 

“You did what?” Mingyu asked, not wanting an answer. 

“I just didn’t think us doing these three months did us any good, yes we got to get our issues out in the open, but Mingyu, we still broke the main rule, we had sex, we couldn’t be bothered to make it work without fucking,” you defended, each word piercing Mingyu’s heart deeper and deeper. 

“Doesn’t the fact we couldn’t stop loving each other show you how tethered we are to one another? How much we need each other?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged. 

“Yes, a crippling need,” you answered, making him breathe deeply, trying to hold back a sob. 

“So, you just decided to do what you do best? Hurtle into the future without a fucking care for me? I gave up everything for you to make you happy, and you’re fucking running?” Mingyu taunted, making you snap.

“I never asked you, but you were so fucking stupid to have walked away from friends. Friends who could give you a job or something, and now, you’re here begging me to stay because you didn’t get your shit together,” you spat out, knowing that none of your words held any truth. 

Still, you needed him to stop fighting because you weren’t sure if you could anymore. 

“You didn’t ask me because I thought it was you and me against the world,” Mingyu yelled. 

“Well, it’s not! Grow up! Get a job, plan your future instead of ruining mine just because you don’t have a planned future,” you fumed, stopping yourself, but you knew it was too late. 

“No, you’re right. I don’t because I thought you were my future, but now, you’re gone, so I guess you’re right. I don’t have a future, so please leave,” Mingyu asked. You couldn’t help yourself, but you knew if you comforted him now, you’d give in, and you couldn’t. 

“Mingyu, this is my apartment, so why don’t you step right out?” You mocked, making Mingyu let out a broken sob. 

“I can’t waste my time and cry for you any longer. There’s no more crying that I can do for you,” you added as Mingyu pulled out a suitcase and started to throw his things in. 

“You can leave in a week or something. There’s no rush,” you mumbled, feeling nothing but shame and guilt. 

“You were my homeland. You were my safe space, and now that you’ve gone and thrown me out, put me in exile, what’s the point? This isn’t my house anyway, and clearly, I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Mingyu answered tearfully as you watched him pack. 

You stood and watched him pack and remove the necklace you once gave him and place it on the bedside table. 

Mingyu took another look around the room and then wiped his face before grabbing his passport and documents out of a drawer and stuffing them into the suitcase. 

“Where will you go?” You asked, and Mingyu shook his head. 

“That’s none of your concern, I’ll be fine, but you,” Mingyu paused to steady his voice. 

“You’ll be fine, excel at everything, and do so well, my love, shit sorry, Y/N. You’ve always been amazing, so thank you for the last ten years of my life, and oh, when you fall in love again, tell him to be good to you,” Mingyu rambled, pausing to smile at you through his tears. 

“But please apologise to that guy because if there’s a weepy guy at your wedding, oh fuck, never mind, why would you invite me. Fuck I’m babbling. You don’t want this. I’ll be on my way,” Mingyu paused his ramble to kiss your forehead. 

“Please stay safe,” Mingyu said before practically running out the door. You waited for him to leave until you couldn’t hear his footsteps in the hallway break down. 

“Fuck!” You cried out, you felt so much pain engulf you, you felt as if someone had snatched your heart out of your chest, you felt as if you had a thousand cuts all over your body and that each second, someone was pouring salt into every wound. 

You didn’t know pain like this. You fell to the floor sobbing, unable to withstand the pain, letting it engulf you. So, you let it. You did this, and you deserved to be hurt. 

“I’m so sorry,” you apologised to the empty room. You broke him and yourself, but you weren’t his problem. You lost the right to care when you threw him out. 

So, you’d do what you do best, push through, ignore the pain and push into the future because if you ran fast enough, you might forget the present and perhaps the pain wouldn’t catch up to you any longer.  6 Months Later

Your method wasn’t foolproof. 

Simply running away from your problems only brought you temporary comfort. 

It allowed you to plaster a fake smile and get things done. It brought you false hope when you told your mother that you had let him go. 

Your method was like a ticking time bomb. You’d hold off only for so long. You knew your pain and your actions would catch up to you. 

Eventually, you took steps to prolong it. You had blocked Mingyu on every possible social media site. You even put all his things in storage and scrubbed the apartment clean, and when you were done, there was no proof that he ever existed in your life. 

You acted like he was a ghost because, somehow, it was easier believing that in some twisted way than picking up the phone and apologising or checking in. 

It was easier this way. You put a bandaid on a wound that had cut through every part of you, foolishly hoping it’d be enough. 

That stupid bandaid got you through your life in Japan. You’d find moments where you’d think of Mingyu, wondering how he’d love certain foods and sights, but you would push any thought of him away, and you were doing a good job. 

Until you were going through your things and found a black journal. You were familiar with it the moment you opened the journal. You wished you could have gone back in time and undid everything because opening up the journal made you feel like you just ripped open the bandaid. 

It was Mingyu’s journal. 

A journal dated the day you two started therapy. You knew it was wrong to read his innermost thoughts, but maybe you’d get closure. So, you got a bottle of wine and began to read.

Most of the entries did nothing but break your heart repeatedly until you came across the last one. 

It was dated the night of the date, your last date with him. 

“I can’t wait to surprise her tonight. I think we’re going to be okay,” Mingyu wrote. 

Your heart stopped. 

A surprise, he was planning something that night. 

What was it? 

You had to find out. 

You had planned most of your life down to the last detail, so randomly catching a plane, after calling your boss and randomly quitting, and landing back home after six months felt odd. 

This was home, so why did it no longer feel like it? The way you had shut your heart to Mingyu, had this town also shut you out, decided that someone as heartless as you didn’t deserve another chance?

You had unblocked Mingyu on socials in a feeble attempt to try and find him, and you saw that he frequented a bakery often. It was a shot in the dark but your only shot. You hailed a taxi from the airport and gave him the address to the bakery. 

You ran into the bakery, huffing as you lugged two suitcases. 

“Can I help you, miss?” A beautiful girl asked you, and you stared at her. 

“No, but you have a frequent customer, Mingyu?” You asked, causing the lady to laugh. 

“Customer, honey, he’s the owner? Do you have an appointment with him, or would you like a consult? He’s got a free evening, so I can pencil you in. Just walk all the way, and when you see a white door with golden roses on it, you’ve found it,” the lady instructed, and you just moved on autopilot as you reached his door. 

Your knuckles trembled as they knocked against the door, his door. 

“Come in!” A cheery voice you yearned to hear for so long, a voice you missed every day and every night replied. 

You pushed the door open and noticed that Mingyu was too busy sketching to look up, and he continued drawing. 

“Just take a seat, make yourself comfy. Sorry, just finishing up a sketch,” Mingyu said mindlessly, and you stood still. 

Taking him in, his hair was longer, he’d coloured it too, a light brown, and he looked handsome, but also he looked healthy like he was sleeping and resting and happy. 

You noted how focused he was on his work. Mingyu was always handsome to you, but even more so when he was doing something he loved. 

“Seriously, it’s okay. Make yourself up at home,” Mingyu started to say as he got up from his chair. 

“Y/N?” Mingyu asked as he finally noticed you. 

“Oh my goodness,” Mingyu broke into a broad smile as he rushed to hug you, and you could feel the tears pooling in your eyes. How could he? 

How could he look at you with so much kindness after what you did to him?

“Oh my gosh, how are you? You look well. How’s Japan, and how’s the job?” Mingyu asked a question after making you stare at him. 

“I found this,” as you moved away from his embrace, practically slapping the journal against the chest. 

“Oh, I’m guessing you read it?” Mingyu asked with a smile. 

“What did it mean, the surprise?” You asked, and Mingyu smiled at you. 

“Can you spare me some time? I don’t want to have that conversation here, but if you can wait a few minutes, we can return to mine, and I’ll explain every word you read?” Mingyu offered, and you nodded at him. 

“Babe!” The same girl from the front desk walked into Mingyu’s office. 

Babe? 

You felt your blood run cold. It made sense for him if he moved on, but her? The woman who looked like she was everything you weren’t, maybe that’s why he wanted her. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to check what you wanted to do for dinner tonight. If you want, I can make pasta?” She kept speaking, each word twisting the knife in your chest deeper. 

“Yuna, this is Y/N, a good friend,” Mingyu introduced, and you forced a smile for her. 

That’s all, but what would he introduce you to her? A friend? His ex, the one who broke his heart? 

“Oh, you guys were friends in school, right? Nice of you to visit, so I guess raincheck on dinner? Oh, babe, please don’t forget we must go to the dress store. I need you to pick out the suit for the wedding,” Yuna said as she gave him a peck on the cheek, shot you a smile and left the room. 

Mingyu had moved on so quickly? A wedding? He waited ten years to propose to you—sort of—but with Yuna, only six months, maybe he wasn’t the problem. You were, you saw her, pretty, friendly, and she seemed to make him smile. Something you failed to do for so long. 

So, it made sense that he’d see a future with her and not you. 

Mingyu could hear your overthinking, and he wanted nothing more than to comfort you right now, but he’d do it the minute you two were in his house. Alone and in a safe space. 

“Shall we?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, following him, not saying a word during the entire car ride back to his apartment and the walk to his apartment. 

“I’m going to take a shower and freshen up. If you want, you can use the guest room. I can grab you some clothes,” Mingyu offered, and you followed him into the guest room, not saying a word. 

 Mingyu poked his head into the bathroom when he noticed you hadn’t emerged in a half-hour. Worried, he entered, and his heart broke when he understood what you were doing. 

“Hey, no, stop that,” Mingyu said, poking his head in at first and then entering the bathroom when he understood what was happening. 

“Just wanted to see what I was missing,” you admitted, making Mingyu frown as he helped you sit on the countertop. Mingyu grabbed a towel, wet it, and gently wiped your face with it. 

“She’s pretty.” You muttered, and Mingyu sighed, placing the towel on the counter.

“She’s got a nice body,” you continued to speak as you were apart. Mingyu stared at you in disbelief, and he hated how you were tearing yourself apart. 

“Can you shower? Or manage on your own?” Mingyu asked; he didn’t want to leave you, but he was very aware that you were naked and crying, and he didn’t want to upset you any further. 

“I guess you found the one you love, and I’m here like a moron because I thought you still loved me. I selfishly thought you still loved me,” Mingyu shook his head and snapped, and his hands found your face and pulled you in for a kiss. You gently pushed him away. 

“Don’t pity me,” you muttered Mingyu glared at you. 

“None of this is out of pity.” Mingyu moved his hands to your neck, gently tracing your skin until he reached your lower back and pulled you closer to him. 

“I’m going to ask you again; can you manage to shower alone. Or do you need me to help you?” You sighed and pushed your body against him.

“I need you,” you answered. Mingyu nodded before moving away and stripping. 

“Fuck, see, you have a nice body,” you said to Mingyu, making him glare at you as he helped you into the shower. 

“So do you, and fuck, I’ll be damned if you don’t feel the same by the time I’m done with you,” Mingyu said as he turned on the shower, and you sighed in relief as the warm water poured over you.  

Mingyu reached over for the shampoo and moved his hands into your hair. You moaned as he massaged your scalp, and for a second, you stopped thinking about how crap you felt. You allowed Mingyu to wash you, and you were ready to leave the shower when Mingyu gently pushed you against the wall. 

Mingyu moved his lips from your forehead until he reached your lips and captured them in a sweet kiss. 

One which had you swooning. 

It was so soft and yet deliberate. You moaned as you felt him deepen the kiss with his tongue. Mingyu kept kissing you until the need for air became too urgent, and he gently pulled away. 

Mingyu moved his lips to your neck, slowly sucking and gently nibbling the skin there. He left a trail of marks on your neck, all shades of purple and pink. Mingyu moved his hands to your breasts, massaging the soft skin, tugging and pinching your nipples, making you moan. 

Mingyu pulled away from your body and got down on his knees in front of you. He dove into your cunt, licking your folds, and your hands moved their way into his wet hair. 

Mingyu didn’t move a muscle, only his tongue as he glided it up and down your cunt. He moved slightly and pushed his tongue into you, making you gasp in pleasure. Mingyu groaned as he tasted your arousal, pushing his tongue in further. Mingyu moved his tongue back to your clit and flicked the now-engorged nub while pushing two fingers inside you. 

You were whimpering and gasping in pleasure as Mingyu fingered you until you came. Mingyu held your thighs in place as he continued to lick you through your orgasm. He was focused on making you cum as many times are he could with his tongue. You shuddered when Mingyu continued, never stopping. 

Mingyu moved his hands to grab your ass and pulled your ass cheeks apart, making you groan. 

Mingyu’s lips never left your clit. You could only mewl and let out sobs of pleasure as he licked you. You were gasping for air as you reached your second orgasm. Mingyu’s mouth never moved from your clit as he licked you through your orgasm. 

Mingyu moved his lips away from your cunt, and moaned when he saw your state. 

“You look so fucking good like this, swollen pussy, mouth open. You look gorgeous when you cum,” Mingyu praised, and you clenched your thighs together at his words. 

“Turn around, face the wall,” Mingyu instructed, and you weakly turned around as you trembled. 

“If anything is too much, tell me, okay?” You mumbled a yes, and Mingyu pushed his fingers into your cunt.

“Good?” You choked out a yes. The new angle with which he entered your cunt had you seeing stars. 

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” You mumbled as your legs started to shake, Mingyu simply hummed against your wet folds, and that’s all it took for you cum again. 

“Please, fuck me,” you begged, and Mingyu slowly got up, held your body close to his, and pulled you in for another kiss; you were so immersed in the kiss that you failed to register him lifting you in his arms and aligning you with his hard cock. 

“Can I?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded at him.

 “Fucking hell, you’re so tight,” Mingyu groaned as he pushed himself into you and started to pound into your cunt. 

 “Fucking hell,” you groaned as you bit down on his shoulder as fucked you into your fourth orgasm. 

“Fuck, I won’t last long,” Mingyu choked out.

“Cum inside me,” you begged him.

Mingyu smiled at you, “gladly,” he said as he thrust into you harder, making you shake and clench around him each time. You moaned when you felt him finally still and cum inside you, his warmth coating your walls. 

Mingyu slowly placed you back down, “fucking hell,” you groaned, grabbing Mingyu’s forearm as he started fingering you hard. 

“One more baby, one more,” Mingyu coaxed as he fingered you to another orgasm. You nodded as you felt yourself cum simply based on his command Mingyu didn’t stop until you came again. This time he finally moved his fingers away from your cunt. 

You were so fucked out. All you could do was hiss slightly when Mingyu finally washed you up, wrapped you in a towel, and carried you to his bed. He towelled your hair dry, put his shirt on you, and pulled you into his arms, wrapping the blanket over you two. 

You turned in his embrace to place your head on his chest, “cuddly,” Mingyu noted with a soft smile on his lips, and you returned a smile back to him, making him bend his head down and capture your lips in a gentle kiss. 

You opened your mouth to speak, and Mingyu held a hand out to stop you. 

“Tomorrow morning, please,” Mingyu pleaded, and you nodded. 

You could do that.

Pretend for one more night.  ~~ Second, Third and Hundredth Chances  ~~

“Morning,” Mingyu greeted you as you entered the kitchen the following day. He stood by the kitchen island, poured himself a cup of coffee and another one, and pushed it across the island, nudging you to sit and face him after six months. 

Six months. That’s how long you went silent on him, blocked him out, and suddenly showed up at his door because of a journal. 

All his life, Mingyu knew you as a planner. You always had a backup plan, so for you to show up unannounced seemed so odd. Maybe you were passing by. Or you just wanted the last word, but after six months. 

Seeing you again, Mingyu felt pain, anger, and hurt, but more than anything, he still felt love. No matter how badly it ended, you were so much more than his ex-girlfriend. You were the woman he once wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It didn’t matter what would transpire; you would always be unique to him, and he could only hope he held a similar position in your heart. 

“So,” Mingyu started to say as you sipped the coffee. 

“I made you cheat. I’m so fucking sorry,” you mumbled, making Mingyu laugh. 

“Right, I didn’t cheat when I was with you, and that’s not something I’m going just to start doing because I’m with someone who isn’t you,” Mingyu said, and you stared at him, confused. 

“But Yuna?” You asked. 

“When you threw me out, I couldn’t find a place that late at night, so I ended up at a bar and cried my eyes out to Yuna. She ran the bar that night and felt sorry for me, so she took me home,” Mingyu explained, pausing to gauge your reaction. 

Mingyu felt slightly cruel for testing you like this, but with the hell, you put him through for six months, this was nothing, and he wanted to see if you still loved him or just got upset because you thought you had some right to him. 

“Yuna and her fiancé, they both, I guess, let me crash and nursed me back that night and just let me mope in their house for a solid month,” Mingyu explained, making you exhale. 

“She calls everyone babe and kisses everyone’s cheeks but only kisses her fiancé’s lips,” Mingyu elaborated, making you sigh in relief. 

“I think it was month two of moping over you, and I was, you know, useless and jobless,” Mingyu continued to speak, hurting you, knowing that you used the exact words when you broke his heart. 

“I was baking a lot, and Yuna’s husband is a famous pastry chef, and he saw me swiping through my Pinterest board and asked if I wanted to do something with my life or just cry over you,” Mingyu chuckled, recalling the memory. 

“So, for four months, I poured all my efforts into my craft, and I picked up everything quickly, and I guess I’ve been lucky, and the bakery is doing well and honestly. I thought I was finally moving on, but then, you showed up at the place I created to get away from the hurt you caused me,” Mingyu finished, his tone now serious and stern. 

“So why are you here, after all these months, and don’t tell me it’s because of a fucking journal. You wouldn’t randomly get on a flight and show up without a plan, so tell me, did you come here to reopen all the wounds I tried so hard to heal?” Mingyu asked, and you fumbled. 

“Do you know what you did to me? That night, you not only assumed that I was an unsupportive boyfriend, but you equated my ability to love you down to the fact that I was unemployed and directionless, and that is fucked up. Like beyond fucked up. So when you threw me out, I honestly believed I was worth nothing. I didn’t think I was enough. While I still want the best for you, you broke me when I needed you most, and seeing you here now, when I’m just getting my shit together, it fucks with me because a part of me wants to kick you out the way you did to me, but a part of me wants to kiss you and try again so tell me Y/N which part should I listen to?” Mingyu fumed, making you cry. 

“Why did you do it? Because what we kept breaking the ‘no sex rule’ or did something else happen? After that date, you said you fell in love with me again, and three days later, you did that. Was it because you accepted the job offer and you felt guilty? I know I’m not perfect, but I broke myself trying to be the man you deserved, and it still wasn’t enough, so I think I am at least owed something, some explanation,” Mingyu implored, his voice softer, and you couldn’t stop the tears from escaping. 

“Fucking speak, will you? You had no problem tearing me apart, so why are you quiet now?” Mingyu asked, frustrated. 

“Because you were bending over backwards, you did so much, and I did nothing. Mingyu, I got mad at you because another girl gave you the attention I didn’t. You were focused on fixing us, and I was focused on just fixing you, and yes, you’re right. The fact that I accepted the job without a second thought for you made me realise what a selfish person I was. I was ashamed, and then you took me out on that date,” you paused to take a breath before continuing. 

“I felt like a failure. I failed you because I was so willing to fix us. Still, I didn’t want to go through the pain because I was scared that at the end of it all, you’d realise that you were better off, and I couldn’t deal with that, so I thought it’d be easier if I made you hate me,” you blubbered out, and Mingyu looked at you in disbelief. 

“I ran away because it was easier. I took the easy way out because the tables had turned. You were succeeding in fixing us, doing the work, and all I could do was watch you put in so much, never expecting anything in return. I couldn’t do that to you, so I just let you go in the worst way possible,” you explained through your tears. 

“I know what you wanted to do the night of the date. I found a velvet box, and I just wanted to confirm that when I flew down here and walked in, it didn’t feel like home. It felt cold and distant, and I didn’t fit here anymore. I saw you happy, glowing, and you had started fresh, and me? I’ve been on autopilot, working, coming home and trying so fucking hard not to think about you, and that journal was an excuse because I couldn’t stay away anymore,” you sputtered out. 

“I knew you wanted to propose, and I ran because while it was everything I ever wanted, I wasn’t the woman you deserved, and I don’t know what I’m doing here because I’m certainly not the woman you deserve now. So, thank you for last night, and I’m sorry that I rehashed old wounds, and it was because I was selfish. I was selfish that night, and I’m still the same,” you cried out. 

“Selfish?” Mingyu repeated as he walked over to you, holding your face. 

“Scared, not selfish,” Mingyu said with a sad smile. 

“How do you not hate me; how can you still be so kind and loving after everything I did to you?” You asked as Mingyu wiped your tears away. 

“Because I still love you, hell you fucked with me, but when I saw you yesterday, it felt like a missing part of me was found, and while it hurt, because I got used to that missing piece, I felt alive, seeing you, and I know that the last time I gave up because I thought that’s what you wanted, but after last night. I know it’s not; it can’t be. So, tell me, did you come back to ask me about a journal entry or because you love me?” Mingyu asked, and you sighed. 

“I left everything. I was looking for something to bring me back to you because, after I left, I didn’t think I had a right to face you again, so the journal was my excuse,” you answered, and Mingyu stared at you. 

“Everything?” Mingyu asked. 

“I quit and packed my shit and came here and handed over the keys to the apartment in Japan to my landlord, and I guess I came here, hoping to come home and selfishly hoping to come back home to you,” you answered, biting your lip unable to look at Mingyu. 

“But your promotion?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged. 

“It took me six months to realise that no promotion, no success in the world meant anything to me if you weren’t by my side, and it felt hollow. Every applause and pay cheque felt worthless because, in a room full of praises, I only ever wanted to hear your voice and come home. I always hoped that you’d be there, and I’d run into your arms and kiss you, and we would both sit and tell each other about our days, and then at night kiss each other and make love to each other, but all I got was an empty house,” you rambled making Mingyu smile tearily at you. 

“Can I ask you for a favour?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, looking at him. 

“This time, I don’t care how difficult it is, how serious it is, how big or small the issue is, you come to me, no matter if it’s a small issue or a big issue, you’re coming to me, you don’t kick me out, and you don’t fight with me, but you fight for us,” Mingyu explained making your eyes widen. 

“After all I did to you. You’ll take me back?” You asked, and Mingyu smiled at you. 

“I was always going to come back to fight for you. I just needed time to be strong enough to do so, but yes, because if there’s anything these six months taught me, it is that I’d rather spend six months going through this pain a hundred times over, provided that each time the outcome was the same, you back in my life,” Mingyu explained making you cry even more.

“How can you love me so much?” You asked, making Mingyu laugh. 

“You stole my heart in a science class when you threw a paper at my head for being too loud in class, I was yours then, and I’m yours now, so tell me, my love, will you be mine again?” Mingyu asked, and you cried, nodding. 

“If you can forgive me?” You cried out, and Mingyu smiled sweetly at you. 

“I forgave you long ago. I was hurt, but my love for you is paramount, and it’s easier to love you than to be mad at you,” Mingyu explained, hugging you. “The perk of knowing you for so many years is that I know, despite your harsh words, you get defensive and deflective and often, what you do instead of saying the truth is act and lash out.”

“I don’t deserve a love as understanding as the one you have for me,” you admitted, and Mingyu shrugged. 

“We didn’t have the most perfect few years, but maybe that’s what we needed. Maybe Dr Kwan’s separation therapy worked because six months of radio silence was more painful than when we were fighting. After all, at least I could see you hug you, and talk to you, but not hear a word from you, not knowing anything that was nothing short of torture. I don’t want to go through that again,” Mingyu explained.

“It took me losing you to realise how much I love you,” you answered, pausing to wipe your tears, “and if you let me, Mingyu, I’ll never let you go again. I’ll love you the way I always should have, and I’ll never let you go because losing you was like I lost my ability to breathe, but here in your arms. I feel safe, loved, and at home, and I don’t want to lose my home again, and I-” Mingyu’s lips cut off your speech on yours. 

“Sorry, but I had to,” Mingyu said sheepishly, making you smile. 

“This will sound weird, but Y/N, will you go on a date with me?” Mingyu asked, making you smile as you burst into a wide smile and hugged him tightly. 

“I’d love to,” you answered. 

“Good, Tuesday night? I’ll pick you up. It’s a surprise,” Mingyu asked, and you nodded furiously. 

All those times you thought it’d work, you always were still unsure, but today, right now, you knew that you’d love him because loving him allowed you to see the world in colour and losing him took away all the colour and joy in the world and this time you didn’t want to fix it for the sake of it. 

You wanted to fix it because you loved him. 

The Finale: What I Should Have Said

One Year Later  

“Oh, for the love of God, please do not break,” Mingyu muttered as he set up the decorations for  your anniversary date on the balcony. At this moment, he was yelling at a bouquet to stand still. 

“Mingyu? What is so urgent? I’m home?” You called out, and Mingyu pouted, glaring at the faultless flower bouquet. You were back and early, 

“In here!” Mingyu yelled out. 

You walked into the house, noticing all the lights had been dimmed. There were flower petals everywhere. You smiled. You knew Mingyu was going to do something for the anniversary. You just weren’t entirely sure what. 

“Hi,” Mingyu looked up to see you, smiling at the decorations. He walked over to you and kissed you. 

“Happy Anniversary.” He mumbled against your lips.

“Happy Anniversary to you, too,” you said. You smiled as he held your hand and pulled you to the sofa. 

“Ooh, cake!” You exclaimed, making Mingyu roll his eyes at you.  

“I’m a three-course meal, and you are salivating over a cake?” Mingyu complained, but you laughed.

“Oh, get over it,” You kept laughing, and Mingyu sliced a piece out for you. He was oddly precise and took a long time to slice the cake. 

“Dude, just give me the cake,” you muttered, and Mingyu scowled.

“Did you just dude me?” Mingyu asked dramatically. You smiled at him as you took the cake from him and immediately scooped a piece into your mouth. You felt something sharp in your mouth; you tasted blood and metal and glared at Mingyu. 

“What did you do? Accidentally leave a fork in the cake?” You glared, and Mingyu gasped in an attempt to bite back a laugh. 

“Why don’t you get cleaned up and find out?” Mingyu offered, and you looked at him strangely. However, it was your turn to gasp as you ran to the bathroom and pulled a ring from your mouth. 

You washed the ring and returned to the balcony where Mingyu was frantically pacing. 

“Mingyu?” You asked, holding out the now-washed ring in your hand. Mingyu took it from you and knelt down. 

“I waited too long last time, I waited for a sign, the right time, all that bullshit, and I’m not saying that if I had done it earlier, our problems would have never occurred, but I know waiting sure as hell didn’t help. I know I wanted to marry you when I was 19, and now, more than ten years later, I still want that, except this time, I don’t want to wait to find the right time, place or anything. I don’t need any of that. I just know that I need the right person, and I have that with you, my love,” Mingyu declared, making you tear up. 

“The last year has been a lot for us. We found each other again and worked together to fix ourselves, and you know what? I’d do it all over again if it meant fixing us, and if it meant that a year later, I’d be here proposing to you, so what do you say, Y/N? Will you be mine forever, and will you love me forever the way I know I will love you?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, unable to say much but give him a muffled yes. 

Mingyu slipped the ring onto your finger, pulled you into his arms, and hugged you tightly. 

“When I said we’d be okay, this is what I meant, I knew it’d hurt, and it’d take fucking a lot of time and patience, but I’d do it all over again a thousand times even if this is the ending, I get each time we’re done,” Mingyu spoke, and you looked up at him smiling. 

“Me too. I’d lose you a thousand times over if it meant being back in your arms at the end,” you replied, making Mingyu smile. 

“I love you,” Mingyu said, and you smiled at him, “I love you too, so much you loved me despite all my flaws and imperfections”, you replied.

“I saw those ‘flaws’ and ‘imperfections,’ and I fell in love with every part of you. We’re both imperfect, but the way we love each other, now that’s fucking perfect!” Mingyu replied, holding you tighter. 

You knew this was your home; with him in his arms, that’s where it was no longer cold; it was warm, safe, and it was home. 

He was home.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 8 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

I open my eyes and stop leaning against the bus window to my right when my music stops and my phone starts ringing.

Our team’s physical therapist, Jackson, cracks an eye open next to me before settling back into his seat. We’re about the same age and he and I have been friends since he helped me get back in shape for hockey while recovering from my Ghostface injuries.

I pull out my phone and chuckle softly at the incoming video call from Tara.

“Hey,” I answer with a tired smile. “How’s it going?”

Tara’s face lights up at the sight of me. “Hi! It’s going great! We just finished unboxing everything and Sam is out to grab some lunch. How are you?”

I adjust my headphones a bit so I can lean back against the window. “Good, but tired. We’re just getting back from a game.”

“Did you win?” she asks with a raised eyebrow and when I nod her smile brightens.

It’s been two months since I moved from Woodsboro to Boston and since then a lot has changed.

Sam moved into my old apartment when Christina Carpenter kicked her out which led to Tara cutting ties with her mother as well, and now they’re both living there with me being their landlord since I own the place.

I didn’t ask for any rent at first when Sam started living there because she had trouble finding a job, but now she works at a local gym an old friend of my dad’s owns, and she insists on paying some rent.

Other than that the two of them keep me updated on each other’s wellbeing and Sam has really proven that she wants to make things up to me by constantly checking in on me. She also helped me move my classes online and even went so far as to take care of putting flowers on my parents grave on the anniversary of their death a month ago.

We have yet to talk about our feelings for each other —more like my feelings for her— but it just seems wrong to do it over the phone.

Good thing I’m visiting them over Christmas in two months. I’m super nervous about getting everything out in the open, but we have to talk.

I can’t not know how she feels anymore. Either she straight up tells me she doesn’t feel the same way which would hurt but give me closure, or she’ll tell me she likes me back which would be. . . good? I guess? Just because she likes me back doesn’t mean she wants to get into another relationship right away, right? I mean, do I even want to get into a relationship right away?

God, I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Do you want a tour of the apartment?” Tara asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Sure.” I chuckle. I doubt a lot has changed since I didn’t take any of my furniture with me, but I’m sure Tara has taken it upon herself to decorate the place to her liking and I kind of want to know how she’s turned the former guest room into her own room.

She switches the camera on her phone and starts showing me everything, pointing out little details here and there as she moves through the rooms.

Jackson, at one point, waves his hand to get my attention and mouths Girlfriend? while gesturing at my phone and I shake my head.

I mute myself for a moment and turn my phone so Tara can’t see me if she looks at the screen.

“It’s just Tara,” I explain which makes him smile knowingly.

“Ah. . . So the girlfriend’s little sister,” he teases and even though he doesn’t know all too much about Sam and me, he knows the gist of it from Liam and Paige who have met him on more than one occasion while visiting me.

They get along great with Jackson and I love it even though they bond over teasing me. Too bad Liam and Paige are still in Woodsboro. They plan on moving to the east coast some time soon as well though because Liam got a job offer in New York and Paige wants to move in with her long distance girlfriend who lives in Portland.

“Shut up, Sam’s not my girlfriend,” I argue weakly, feeling my cheeks turn red.

Jackson shoves me playfully. “Yet,” he teases and I just shove him back before unmuting myself and focusing back on Tara.

“And finally, my new room,” she says, going on with the tour without realizing that I wasn’t paying attention for a second ago.

“Looks good, Sprout,” I compliment. “I like the fairy lights behind the bed.”

Tara turns the camera again and beams at me. “Thank you. It was Sam’s ideas. She’s going to get some for her room, too.”

“Nice.” I nod in approval and smile sadly. “Man, I miss you guys.”

Them being on the other side of the country and in an entirely different time zone has made it difficult to stay in touch, but we try our best even though talking over the phone is just not the same as seeing each other in person.

Tara’s face softens and she takes a seat on her bed, pouting. “We miss you, too. It’s weird not having you around all the time, but we’ll see each other soon. I already got you your Christmas present.”

That makes me laugh and the homesickness that I was feeling a moment ago fades a little. “Oohh, can’t wait to find out what it is. Speaking of, do you know what I could get Sam? I already have something for you in mind, but I have no idea what to get her.“

Jackson leans over, obnoxiously mimicking kissing someone and I shove him away with a playful glare before looking back at Tara who is too lost in thought to notice my momentary distraction.

“Hmm. I don’t know. There’s this necklace she showed me a while ago that she likes, but I can’t remember where it was from. I can ask her about it though,” she says and I’m quick to nod.

“That would be great, but don’t make it obvious. She can’t suspect anything!” I warn which makes her roll her eyes good-naturedly.

“I won’t, I promise. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

I chuckle. “Good.”

2 months later. . .

I’m finally back in California and as I make my way through the airport’s parking lot to my rental car I can’t help but relish in the warm breeze that rustles some nearby trees.

I’ve come to love Boston and my new friends and teammates, but it’s just so goddamn cold there, especially now right before Christmas.

I was supposed to fly in tomorrow, on the 25th, but I changed my flight two days ago to surprise Sam and Tara, hence why I had to get a rental car instead of the two of them picking me up.

I finally get to the car and shove my bags into the trunk with little effort. I’m so glad I’m no longer injured because if I was, this whole thing would be extremely difficult.

Everything healed nicely, leaving behind nothing but scars, and I can happily live with that. They serve as a reminder that I managed to help Sam and Tara survive Ghostface and that we all made it out alive. The scar on my spine is a different story. I’ve hated it ever since I got it because it reminds me that my parents are dead and that I came close to being paralyzed, both things that I’d rather forget.

I shut the trunk with a satisfying thump, and get into the car, putting on some sunglasses to shield my eyes from the setting sun before pulling out of the parking lot.

The drive to my old apartment is familiar and even though there’s a lot of traffic since it’s Christmas eve, I manage to get home just as the sun goes down, leaving behind a faint orange glow in the sky.

I grab my stuff from the trunk and head into the apartment building, smiling at one of my old neighbors when he recognizes me and opens the door for me.

Okay, this is it.

I smile when I get to the third floor and set my bags down to knock at the familiar door.

I think of how weird it is to knock at my once own door, but that thought quickly vanishes when Tara opens the door ever so slightly, peeking through the gap.

“Oh my God!” She squeaks happily when she realizes it’s me and closes the door again to undo the chain before opening it properly. “Hi!”

“Hey, Sprout. Merry Christmas.” I barely have time to prepare myself for the bone crushing hug she pulls me into, but I’m definitely not complaining. I chuckle and lift her off her feet, spinning around before setting her down again.

“Tara, who’s at the door?” Sam’s voice from inside the apartment makes my stomach fill with butterflies and when she pokes her head around the corner my smile widens.

“Hey.”

Her jaw drops at the sight of me and as soon as I’ve let go of Tara she’s rushed over to hug me as well. Her hug is tame compared to Tara’s, but it’s still comforting and I can’t help but lift her off her feet for a second as well.

“What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to get in until tomorrow. Did something happen?” she asks in disbelief when I pull back and I don’t miss the way her eyes dart all over my face as if checking for injuries.

My smile softens and I squeeze her in my arms one more time before separating from her completely. “Nothing happened, Sammy. I just wanted to surprise you guys.”

“You did,” Tara says, completely oblivious to the way her sister’s cheeks turn red at my use of her old nickname.

It honestly just slipped out, but I can’t say I’m displeased with the reaction it garnered.

“Yeah,” Sam mumbles, smiling shyly. She tucks her hair behind her ears and picks at the black sweater she’s wearing. “Why don’t you come in? We were just about to start dinner.”

I nod and pick up my bags, following the two of them into the apartment.

Not much has changed since I left because most of the furniture is the same, but Tara did do some decorating and there are different pictures on the walls.

There’s also a decorated christmas tree in the corner of the living room that glows in the low light and makes me smile.

I never put one up when I was living here because I always spent Christmas at Liam and Paige’s place anyway.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Sam says nervously which makes me turn to look at her in the kitchen. Tara momentarily vanished into her room which explains Sam’s sudden nervousness. The dining table between us is set beautifully with candles and some more Christmas decorations and until now I hadn’t noticed the soft music coming from a speaker nearby. “Why don’t you- uh— freshen up while Tara and I finish up in the kitchen?”

I get a sense of deja vu since not even four months ago I was saying something similar to her, but I nod without bringing it up, taking note of how awkward things suddenly are between us.

We don’t act like this over the phone, but over the phone we usually don’t see each other unless Tara turns it into a video call, and we usually keep things polite.

This seems more. . . intimate even though nothing’s happening.

“Sure. I’ll be right back. Thanks.” I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, taking one of my bags with me.

I could really use a shower after my long flight, so I quickly strip as soon as I’ve locked the door behind me and get into the shower.

The hot water helps to get rid of the residual cold that somehow still clings to me from Boston, and once I get out of the shower I put on a shirt and a hoodie to make sure it also stays away.

I finish dressing and go to leave the bathroom again, but then my eyes get caught on a small orange pill bottle on the floor next to the sink.

I crouch down and pick it up, realizing it’s Sam’s when I see her name on the lable.

Her antipsychotics.

I take a closer look for a moment before shrugging and placing them on the counter next to the sink where they were probably knocked down from.

It doesn’t freak me out that she has to take them, or that she sees visions of Billy because I know they’re just that— visions, and she herself has said that she’d never hurt Tara or me because of them.

I can tell that they’re tiring though because of how resigned she was when she talked about them the last time, and I make a mental note to ask her how she’s dealing with them now.

“Ah, finally!” Tara exclaims when I make my way back into the living room. She’s sitting at the head of the dining table with a steaming bowl of pasta in front of her and a fork in hand, ready to dig in. Sam is sitting to her right, also with a bowl of pasta in front of her, but unlike Tara, she doesn’t seem to be as eager to start eating.

“I was gone for like five minutes,” I defend myself with a smile which makes Sam smile, too. “And you could have started without me, you know that.”

Tara immediately shoves a forkful of pasta into her mouth and shakes her head. “Nu-uh” she mumbles, “Sam made me wait for you.”

I laugh softly and join them at the table. “Well, I’m here now.”

Tara just hums in agreement and continues eating while Sam waits for my reaction to the food after I’ve had my first bite before diving in herself.

“This is great.” My eyes widen in surprise at the taste and I immediately eat another forkful before asking, “You guys made this?”

Sam nods but Tara shakes her head again, pointing her thumb at her older sister. “Sam did. I just watched and set the table.”

Damn. Who knew she could cook like that. I mean, her pancakes were great and all, but I didn’t know she could actually cook like this.

My eyes find Sam’s and when I raise my eyebrows expectantly she finally gives in and shrugs timidly, her eyes avoiding mine.

“It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just some pasta.” She deflects with red cheeks, trying to downplay her skills.

That makes me nudge her foot under the table, prompting her to look at me again. “Maybe. But it’s still delicious.”

I smile and she turns even more red, saying, “Thank you.”

I watch her with fondness as she nervously tucks her hair behind her ear before eating.

“Come on, move. Let me do something,” I complain, trying to get Sam to move away from the sink.

Dinner was delicious and we all helped ourselves to a second serving. Now, Tara is in her room, talking to Chad and Mindy on the phone while Sam and I are in the kitchen doing the dishes.

Well, Sam is doing the dishes. I want to help, but she keeps refusing and telling me to just go relax after my long flight.

“I told you, I’ve got it,” she shoots back, nudging me with her hip, but I’m not having it.

It’s obvious that I can’t persuade her to let me do something, so I’ll just have to manhandle her out of the way.

“Seriously, Y/N, just—Hey!” She squeaks in surprise when I wrap my arms around her from behind and lift her up, carrying her away from the sink before setting her back down.

“You cooked, and Tara set the table, so I’ll do the dishes.” I raise an eyebrow, daring her to object but she finally gives in with a sigh. Her cheeks are once again red and for a moment she doesn’t meet my eye, but when she does, I simply smile at her and get to work on the dishes.

“Do you— I don’t know— Want some coffee or tea?” she asks and even though I don’t want either I nod, understanding her need to do something.

“Tea would be nice,” I say and for the next minute or so a silence settles over us as we both do our thing.

I’m just drying my hands after putting away the last plate when Sam joins my side again with a cup of tea in hand.

“Here you go.” She hands it to me with a small smile and I take it, mumbling a thanks as I raise it to my lips to take a sip.

“So. . .” I lean against the counter. “How are you?”

Sam hugs herself and mirrors my position against the counter. “Okay, I guess. Can’t really complain,” she says, but the way she avoids my eyes with her own tells a different story.

“You sure?” I push slightly, knowing that Tara is still in her room and there’s no chance of her overhearing something Sam potentially doesn’t want her to hear.

Sam shrugs helplessly without really answering, so I set down my tea and step closer.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask softly touching her forearm which makes her look up.

I’m surprised to find her eyes filled with tears. “I. . . Can I have a hug?” she asks quietly and before any tears can escape her eyes I pull her into a hug, resting my chin on top of her head.

Sam lets out a shuddering sigh and sinks into the hug, the smell of her perfume making my heart flutter involuntarily.

The hold this girl has on me is incredible. . .

“What’s going on?” I whisper, running my hands up and down her back.

“Everything’s been just a lot lately, you know? The fight with my mom, being back here, the move. . . not to mention the whole Ghostface shit I’m still trying to get over a-and Richie—“ My hands still on her back at the mention of his name, but I stay quiet, letting her air out her thoughts, “— I still can’t believe he was behind everything. I really liked him and he just threw it in my face and I-I feel like it’s my fault Tara and you were almost killed. I mean people did die because of me. Wes, his mom, Dewey. . .”

I raise a hand to the back of Sam’s head and run my fingers through her hair. It used to help calm her down when we were kids, so I’m hoping it’ll do the same now.

“Sam, no one died because of you.” I hug her tighter. “Richie and Amber killed people because of their fucked up dream of making a new Stab movie. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But Billy—“

“Is your father, yes,” I cut her off. “But just because he is doesn’t mean what happened is your fault. It’s Richie’s and Amber’s. They killed all those people, not you. You’re nothing like them and you’re nothing like your father.“

Sam shivers and pulls back a little to look at me. “I might not have killed Wes and the others,” she whispers with tears still in her eyes, “but I did kill Richie and—“ she looks away, ashamed, “—it felt right doing it. It felt. . . good, stabbing him. It felt so fucking good, and I just couldn’t stop a-and that scares me.”

I tilt my head with furrowed eyebrows and cup her face with my hands, her brown eyes doubtful, yet hopeful that I’ll be able to assuage her guilt somehow. “I get it. You think that makes you a monster, but I‘d been surprised if you didn’t feel that way. Richie took so much from you. He betrayed you and hurt you in more ways than one, and he hurt Tara and me. . . He was about to kill all of us, but you stopped him. Yes, you killed him, but there was no other way. He would’ve just kept coming for us if you didn’t, so of course it felt good to kill him— to know that he’d never be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

A single tear rolls down Sam’s cheek and I’m quick to wipe it away before she hugs me again, burying her face in the crook of my neck.

She’s breathing shakily and I once again run my fingers through her hair, resting my cheek against her temple.

“Thank you,” she mumbles. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

I smile sadly and hold her tighter. “You’re welcome.”

If I could have killed Richie for her I would have done it in a heartbeat, but I didn’t and now she has to live with it. She killed him to save herself and to save the rest of us and I hate that she feels guilty for doing it.

We keep hugging for a couple of moments, silently holding each other until she chuckles quietly against the side of my neck.

“I think my therapist would hate you.”

I pull back and smile at her, glad to see that she’s no longer crying. “How come?”

“Because she’s been saying the exact same thing every since I started seeing her, but I didn’t believe it until you just said it,” she admits with a sheepish grin that makes me laugh.

I raise an eyebrow. “Well, shouldn’t she love me then?”

Sam just shrugs and rests her hands on my chest, playing with the strings of my hoodie right as Tara comes walking into the kitchen.

“You guys wanna watch a movie or something? Chad and Mindy say hi, by the way,” she says without commenting on the position she finds us in.

Sam is quick to take a step back though, rubbing the back of her neck and turning to make herself a cup of tea as well.

“Yeah, movie sounds good,” I say, unbothered, picking up my own tea.

Sam simply hums in agreement without turning around, which makes Tara smile and skip to the living room.

I stir, feeling myself wake up at the sensation of something being draped over me.

It’s dark, I notice when my eyes flutter open, and I realize that I must have fallen asleep sometime during the movie.

There’s no sign of Tara, but Sam’s standing over me, adjusting the blanket she draped over me so it covers my feet.

She hasn’t realized I’ve woken up, and I don’t want her to feel bad about waking me, so when she turns back to face me I quickly close my eyes again and pretend I’m still asleep.

There’s some shuffling and it takes everything in me not to flinch when Sam’s fingers brush against my forehead a second later, moving some hair out of my face.

She sighs and I think she might say something since she thinks I’m asleep, but she doesn’t.

She does place a delicate kiss to my forehead though, and it’s so surprising that as soon as I’m sure she’s gone into her room, I open my eyes again, touching my tingling forehead where her lips were a moment ago.

We really need to talk.

_______________________________________________

Happy new year, everyone!

We’ll be diving into the plot of the sixth movie in part 10, so enjoy some fluff for now <3

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23

[drdemonprince]

Most of us begin the Autism unmasking process looking for greater self-acceptance, but don’t realize what a messy, uncertain, weakened, traumatized, resentful version of ourselves we’re going to have to accept. Secretly, we hope that the unmasked version of us will be just as capable and comfortable as we always pretended to be — but also much happier, and more authentic. 

The great challenge of unmasking, then, is letting go of all pre-conceived notions of the type of person we must be, so that we can simply exist in the moment, feeling whatever we feel and needing whatever we need. 

It can take many years for a person to reach this point. I’ve also noticed there are common phases that Autistics move through as we go about unmasking — periods of questioning, self-loathing, anger, withdrawal, exploration, relief, and obsessive self-consciousness, just to name a few. 

Not all of these phases appear for everyone, of course and they do not necessarily come in a specific order. Rather than viewing them as stages that progress in a linear fashion, we can see them instead as common psychological defenses that emerge when a person is having a hard time reconciling their disability with their beliefs about who they should be. 

Important internal work is happening when a person seems to be “caught” in any particular phase. Some phases are needed corrections for society’s anti-disability stigma — such as the phase where a person believes that Autism makes them inherently superior to allistics. Others are corrections for those corrections, a hypothesis and antithesis that gradually resolve into a synthesis within the disabled person’s life. 

These phases don’t last forever, and we learn something important each time that we pass through them. Like the phases of the moon, these phases may recur in our lives in an almost cyclical fashion, bringing us closer to accepting the truth of ourselves each time. Remember as you read through this list of phases that arriving at a final state of “recovery” is not the goal. When we unmask, we’re not trying to get rid of our disability, after all — we’re just hoping to understand and accept all that is inside us a bit better. 

And so, to help you prepare for your unmasking journey, here are some of the common phases of unmasking: 

Questioning 

It’s incredibly common for a masked Autistic person to spend months or even years questioning whether they actually are disabled, or have the “right” to openly identify as such. Even after a person has researched Autism at length, sought external input from loved ones and a therapist, and integrated themselves deeply within the neurodivergent community, they may be struck with regular bouts of uncertainty. 

We can blame this on a society that investigates every single claim of disability repeatedly for evidence of fraud, and a culture where disabled people are accused of being delusional, manipulative attention-seekers. 

Obsessing (About Autism)

One way that questioning Autistics try to resolve their uncertainty is by consuming every piece of information and commentary about Autism that they could possibly find. Autism often becomes one of our special interests, early in our unmasking — making us see Autism between the pages of every book, and on the confused face of every stranger. 

When a person is obsessing about Autism, they may reference their disability as an explanation for every single behavior they or anyone else ever exhibits. Tying your shoes in the “bunny-goes-round-the-tree” style is an Autism thing. Liking the small spoon is an Autism thing. That rude comment I just made about your appearance is an Autism thing, and so you cannot criticize me for it, because that’s a core part of my being I can’t change. Every person in the obsessed Autistic person’s life may be assigned disability labels: he’s got ADHD, she’s a PDAer, your dad’s undiagnosed Autism is the reason he stands in the middle of the room watching TV. 

Obsessing (About the Self)

Unmasking requires a high degree of curiosity about the self. A person can’t even notice there’s a disjoint between their authentic feelings and how they present themselves to others unless they look within. Unfortunately, doing so means constantly asking ourselves whether our actions reflect our true selves, and what our “true self” even is — and thinking too much about these questions can make the mind loop back on itself infinitely. 

When I first started unmasking, I could not stop assessing how I carried my own body. I knew that my posture was “bad,” in neurotypical terms, but was that because I had muscle underdevelopment caused by Autism, or because I was always trying to make myself inobtrusive and small? Would it be “unmasking” for me to stand straight and claim more space — or would that be me masking even worse, by imitating neurotypical confidence? 

Autism Supremacy 

Though many unmasking Autistics experience a big drop in self-esteem, it’s equally as common for us to take immense pride in our neurotype, even to an excessive degree. During the Autism supremacy phase of unmasking, Autistic people may feel that their disability actually makes them more moral, logical, emotionally attuned, intelligent, or compassionate than others. 

“Autistic people do have empathy! In fact, we have more empathy than anyone else!” You may hear an Autism supremacist declare proudly, pushing back against the stereotype of us as “anti-social” monsters. But the argument that some of us actually experience hyper-empathy, while true, does nothing to challenge the ableism of equating a person’s emotional sensitivity with their humanity. 

I wrote about the many phases that unmasking Autistics tend to pass through, and the various needs those phases exist to meet. You can read the full piece (or have it narrated to you by the Substack app) for FREE at drdevonprice.substack.com

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Interlude A

Read on AO3

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Chapter Index

Contains: No Y/N (2nd POV but Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, John goes to mandated therapy, Manipulation, domestic daydreams, abuse of CIA connections, hey Kate's here!

~3.3k - MDNI - Less of a darkfic at this point, but just be mindful

It’s strange to be back in London.

John still comes here once a week— A staunch refusal to switch to a new therapist, even if it would save him the short flight from Aberdeen Airport every Friday, his whole day eaten away by travel and the hour appointment with Dr. Clara.

He doesn’t like her. She thinks he’s stubborn and resistant.

She’s probably right.

For the first time, he thinks it might be a good idea to switch. Or stop coming in personally, conduct therapy online. Being away from Dalisay bothers him. He doesn’t like that she’s alone in the house. If something happened, he’d be so far away. She’d seen him off, kissed him at the door, said she’d make dinner for when he got back. She wasn’t going anywhere. She didn’t want to. He had to trust her, even if it was a difficult thing to do.

It would probably kill him if he came home to an empty house.

“How have you been, John?” Kate’s voice on the phone sounds worried. He must have been in bad shape when he saw her last week. He hardly remembers. He feels like his old self again, centred, steady.

“Good. Better. Soap introduced me to someone.” Introduced being a generous term for what happened. “She’s been stayin’ with me.”

“You’re seeing someone?” The surprise in her voice is palpable. “John—”

“She’s somethin’ special, Kate. You’d like her.”

Kate hums in a way that implies that she doesn’t believe him. “What’s her name?” she asks, faux-casual. She wants to look Doll up.

“Dalisay Valmorida.” In truth, he wants to know more too. Without any resources, he couldn’t find much. Doll kept her social media private, and snooping through her email hadn’t revealed much of anything either, except lead him to a totally anonymized profile on a kink website that told him that she was interested in submission and ropes (could she be any more perfect?), and had a few pictures of the prettiest tits he’d ever seen. She has a tattoo on her ribs, apparently, floral and intricate, and he wants to drag his teeth over it. Hopes he gets a chance to. “But I’m not worried. She’s a sweetheart, Kate.”

“She’s staying with you?”

“Yeah.” He wracked his brain for something that wouldn’t sound both criminal and insane. "She was living in a bad neighbourhood, and lost her nanny job. Soap—”

Kate makes an amused sound. “Thought you needed looking after, huh?”

“Somethin’ like that. We were in a position to help each other, I s’pose.”

“How long has she been there? You didn’t mention her when I saw you last week.”

“She’s only been there since Friday night. Her place got broken into, we moved up the timeline.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Kate, there’s lots of things I’m not telling you.

“John, when you say you’re seeing her…”

“It’s new. It’s nice. I have a good feeling about Doll. I’m trying not to rush things, but you know me.”

“Well. Let’s grab lunch after your session. I’ll see what I can dig up before then. Usual place?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Alright. See you then.” She hangs up, brusque as ever.

He gets off the tube at the next stop and walks to the low-rise office building his therapist works out of. Greets Brenda that works the front desk, sits in the waiting room. He’s fifteen minutes early, just like always.

He sends Doll a text while he’s waiting, just asking how her morning’s going, and gets a response almost right away, a picture of the puppy they’d gone to see last week. The picture’s blurry, the pup too excited to hold still.

Doll: Mel came by after she dropped the kids off at school. We’re having tea at hers (:

John: Have fun, sweetheart.

His chest loosens a bit. She wasn’t planning on leaving him. She’s making friends with his friends, putting down tentative roots. He didn’t have to worry. He didn’t have to worry. He thinks about talking to Melissa about adopting the little thing. Seeing Doll coo and fuss over a puppy would probably make him act like a fool, but she’s been forgiving about the more honest things he’s said so far.

"John?" Dr. Clara calls him in. "Nice to see you. How was your trip down?"

"Fine. Same as always." John sits in the usual chair, and looks around the room like usual, clocking everything in it's usual space, except the tissue box on the table and a trashcan sitting closer to the chair than it’s usual position. Every other week the appointment just before his is a watery sort of woman, but he had been looking at his phone rather than at the door, letting himself relax enough to not notice the woman leave the room. "How are you?" Its a perfunctory question, going through the motions of politeness.

"Good." Dr. Clara settles into her own chair, notebook out. She's close to his age, beautiful in a cold, precise sort of way. Thin, a perfectly straight razor sharp bob framing her face. "Who were you texting?" she asks.

This throws off their rhythm. Usually she starts by asking if he'd done any of the journaling she asked him to do (he never did), and then if he'd gone down to the local legion to connect with other veterans (he hadn't).

"I— She's a friend. Of Soap's. Stayin' with me for a bit. String of bad luck, poor thing, lost her job and her apartment got broken into in the same week." The half truth comes more easily the second time. "She was really shook up."

"And you don't find the introduction of a new person into your routine disruptive?"

John frowns. "I think her comin’ along was disruptive in a good way. I needed to change some things around."

Dr. Clara raises her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Eatin' better. Couldn't be arsed to cook just for me, but I'm gettin' three squares a day now. Haven't had a drink since Saturday. She likes a cuppa around the same time I'd usually have a night cap. Sleepin' a bit better." He bites back a smile. "The other day, I was workin' outside while she painted-- She's an artist, and a bloody good one— and she reminded me to rest my ankle. Still gets sore when I push too hard."

"Tell me more about her."

"We're still getting to know each other, but she's sweet. Patient. Not afraid to tell me what she thinks."

"Why would she be afraid?"

"I can be… well, you know how I can be. And she's just a soft little thing. Wouldn't blame her if she was nervous." John shrugged. "She's beautiful too.. Brightens up the whole room when she smiles. And funny. Makes clever comments. And has this way of celebrating moments for no reason at all. Had me spinnin' around in the rain the other day. Thinkin' about gettin' her a puppy."

Dr. Clara taps the end of her pencil on her notepad, clearly conflicted. This is the most John's spoken in a session without her having to pull it out of him word by word, but… "A puppy? John don't you think that might not be an appropriate gift for a woman you've known for, um…" she looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to fill in the gap.

"Well. A week," John admits. "But we've got a real connection. Something special."

"Is she planning on staying with you long term?"

"She might. I'd like her to."

"So you have intense feelings for a woman you don't know, and all your short-lived progress is based on her presence, is that what you're saying?"

John's eyes narrow. Of course it sounds crazy to her. She doesn't know Dalisay. "I know her."

"Do you? You met her just a week ago, John." Dr. Clara sighs. "Do you think maybe you see winning her over as a mission? That you're returning to that rigid military mindset that brought you to me in the first place?"

John shakes his head. "It wasn't the military mindset that brought me here. It was those damn pills."

"John—"

"No, I know what you're going to say. Don't bother."

“John. If you know what I’m about to say, I’d like to hear you say it.”

He huffs, and looks away, drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair. It’s hard to meet her steely gaze for long. He doesn’t like being scrutinized, and that’s all these sessions are. "You'd usually say something like, almost losing Soap led me to take risks I shouldn't've, that I blame myself for his injury, that the stress of trying to make sure my team never got hurt in a field where getting hurt is inevitable put me under tremendous stress, and that my own injury left me with nothing but time to contemplate my guilt. The pain killers were a way to turn the feelings off."

Dr. Clara nods, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "So you do listen."

"I don't see what this has to do with Dalisay."

She gives him a pitying look over her reading glasses. "You don't give yourself room to make mistakes, John. That inflexibility is the problem. If you build good habits on someone else's foundations, what happens if they leave? You'll be right back where you started."

“You’re so sure she’ll leave?”

Dr. Clara sets her notebook down in her lap and leans forward, hands clasped together. “It’s not about her, John. It’s about you. You are worth doing this work for. You have to be able to stand on your own two feet. People are fallible. Things happen, we lose people we care about. It’s part of living. The only person you can’t live without is John Price.”

He crosses his arms. “You told me I needed to make connections with other people.”

“I did. And you still should. But this is not what I meant and you damn well know it. Jumping into a relationship when you’re still struggling like this is not going to be healthy. You’re headed for codependency at best. If you really care about this woman, you need to consider what she needs too. If she told you she was seeing a veteran that struggles with substance abuse, that turns any negative feelings into anger, that can’t compromise or be flexible, that needs to be in control—”

“I get it. I’d tell her she deserves better.”

“So be better, John. Start with the journal. Actually buy one before you go home. There’s a stationary shop down around the corner.”

He snorts. “You get a commission for sending your patients there?”

“Yes, John, you’ve unearthed my diabolical plot. I’m in cahoots with the stationary store,” she says dryly. “It doesn’t matter where you buy the damn journal from. Write your feelings on the back of a receipt for all I care. Just try. If all you write down every day is that you hate that I’m making you do it, that’s still progress.”

“Alright, alright.” He supposes he can cede a little ground. Dr. Clara has been going on about that since their first session, so maybe there’s something to it.

He finds himself walking into the stationary store and breathing in the scent of paper and ink and glue. It reminds him of Doll’s art store. He wonders if she’d like a place like this. Probably. She’d probably tell him to listen to Dr. Clara too.

Running his fingers over the spines of the shelf of journals, he stops at one with a soft leather cover. He pulls it down and thumbs through the pages. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for exactly, but it has lines and a spot for the date at the top of each page, so that’s probably good enough. The man at the counter asks if he needs a pen too, and he glances at the one the man’s holding, a fountain pen with a shiny wood-grain finish, and swallows the no that nearly leaves his tongue.

“Sure. Yeah.”

He meets Kate at a pub not far from the London base. She’s still working, of course, just like he should be, but unlike him, she didn’t have a breakdown that cost him everything. When things happen that Kate can’t handle, she can beak down privately, and her wife puts her back together, better than new. He’s been envious of that for a long time, of that stability that Kate gets to come home to.

She’s working on something, tapping away at her phone when he settles across from her, but she glances up and gives him an apologetic smile. “Hey, John. Just give me a second, I have to finish replying to this email.”

He just nods, used to this. Kate’s always in the middle of something. He waits patiently while she works, and quietly orders a tea when the server comes around to ask.

He doesn't miss the questioning look from Kate. She sets her phone down and really studies him, eyes narrowed.

"What?" He asked.

"We've gotten together for lunch almost every week for the past year, and this is the first time you haven't ordered a beer."

"Don't feel like having one."

"You're sleeping better too. You look good, John."

He couldn't deny that he felt better. More like himself. Settled in his skin, engines rumbling, ready for anything. "I guess Doll's been a good influence. You looked her up?"

"I did. Not much of a presence online. Found an old art blog that she hasn't updated for years, has a couple of very sparse social media accounts. Was two years into a fine arts degree from Manchester university when she switched to english lit. Worked part time as an educational assistant in an elementary school, and then started working for Kevin and Isla Kinsey five years ago."

"That's it?" He's not sure if that's a relief or a disappointment. He knows most of that already.

"No. She's had some involvement in anti-war groups, nothing major, but I pulled that thread all the way to the terrorist attack on Piccadilly Circus back in 2019. Her parents were both killed."

"Huh." That explained a lot.

"Michelle actually knows her. She curated a show that Angela— her mother— was featured in. That's why they were in London in the first place."

"Christ. No wonder she dropped painting for so long."

"Has she picked it back up? She should call Michelle once she's put a few things together. She has what Michelle calls a compelling story."

"I'll let her know." He sighs. "Anything else?"

"She's an only child, but there’s lots of family in the Philippines, a grandmother in Aberdeen. A few cousins in Canada and the states. Pretty much all clean, keep out of trouble types. There's not much more I can tell you from my end, unless you want me digging through the filing cabinet at her old therapist's office. Old school, offline records." Kate shrugs. "I could. But I think you'd be better off just talking to her."

"Probably. Thanks, Kate. Kinda had it in my head that she was too good to be true." John flashes a smile at the server when she brings him his tea, and orders a salad, which really has Kate looking at him like he's mad.

"You keep this up, you could come back to work," she says. "You just need Clara to sign off on you. Which means consistency."

"Yeah. I'm tryin' her journal idea. Not sure that I'd go back anyway. Maybe it was just time." A few weeks ago, he would be chomping at the bit to go back. But now that there’s something else to give him some purpose, he’s not sure he wants to.

"Up to you. You're not there yet anyway. Now, I want to hear about this girl from your side." Kate picks up her soda (always diet, always something caffeinated) and gives him a pointed look.

He talks about Doll for a bit, gets a bit more work talk out of Kate, and when they part ways, they tentatively talk about Kate and Michelle coming up to meet her before long. It’s a nice thought. He'd like to get the lads back up too, but Kate’s a safer bet to start. Doll might forgive the boys if they grovel enough, and if things are looking promising between her and John. It's always easier to justify an overstep if the results are ultimately positive, so he has to make sure that Dalisay is happy and settled before he considers it.

It'll be a tough road if she doesn't want to reconcile with them. Not impossible, but he wants all of his people to get along. He wants his kids to know the men that have stood by him for all these years.

He sends a few texts to Dalisay, but there’s no response. He spends the short flight rationalizing why she might not have noticed her phone. Maybe she’d left it in her purse when she got back from Mel’s, or let the battery run out. She wouldn’t leave without telling him. She wouldn’t.

By the time he gets to his truck, he’s convinced that something’s happened.

He makes the hour drive back in forty minutes, parks erratically, and runs for the house, gravel sliding under his feet, his ankle twinging.

He tumbles through the door, half expecting a disaster, a crime scene, and instead sees something out of his most revisited domestic daydreams, set to some bouncy sort of pop music.

Dalisay is leaning over the stove, hips moving to the music, wearing a pretty floral skirt, socks pulled up over her thick calves to the knee, her feet sliding on the tiles as she moves. Her soft dark hair is up in a messy bun, a pencil and a paintbrush stuck through it. The whole house smells amazing, whatever she has cooking sure to be well worth the light lunch. There's a painting started on a canvas set up in the living room, just a soft gradient of blue and gold. And best of all, when she does a little spin and notices him at last, she beams at him. "John! You're home!"

"I am," he agrees, grinning back when she throws herself into his arms, squeezing him tight around the middle. He wraps his own arms around her shoulders, relishing the press of her soft little body against his. "How was your day, Doll?"

"It was really nice! I had a good time chatting with Mel, and I made dinner. And dessert even." She doesn't make any move to pull away, just looks up at him, pretty dark eyes fixed on his face. There’s an echo of relief in her eyes too, like she had been as worried about him, as he had been about her. "I'm glad you're home safe. You really go all the way down to London every week?"

He nodded. "I could change doctors, but I get lunch with a friend while I'm there— Kate. You'd like her. Maybe, once you're settled in a bit more, we could invite her and her wife up for dinner."

"Oh, that would be nice. So long as she's more sane than the friends I've met so far."

"Considerably. Can I kiss you hello?"

She hummed, as though she were considering it, although the laughing look in her eye said yes long before she gave a verbal affirmation.

He's the luckiest man in the world, he thinks as he leans down to kiss her soft lips.

Things are looking up. Things are good. And it's all thanks to to her.

He's going to make her the happiest woman in the entire world. She deserves nothing less. She deserves his best too, and he’s determined to be a better man than he has been in a long while.

She breaks the kiss by dropping her heels back to the floor. “Are you hungry? Dinner’s almost ready. We have time for a cup of tea first, if you’d like.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Image Credits: Banner - Banner Background - Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[tkwrites]

I'll Be Proud For You - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest via Bauer Hockey

Title: I’ll Be Proud For You - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (OFC) 

Summary: When an opportunity for Quinn to meet her uncle arrives, Sarah jumps at the chance, and they attend a St. Patrick's Day party at her uncle's house on Salt Spring Island. On the ferry ride back home, Sarah finally explains why she had to be close to family after her mothers death, necessitating her move to Vancouver. 

Warnings: Mentions of depression, grief, and meeting new family. Talks of suicidal thoughts and suicidal ideation. No attempts or methods are described or discussed. 

Word Count: 5,600

Comments: I’ve been working on this fic for a long time. In many ways, it's extremely self-indulgent. I loved writing the banter between Sarah and her uncle Travis, and it was very healing for me to write about Sarah’s experiences after her mothers death. 

Sarah’s experiences are very similar to the experiences I had after losing my father. My dad died three years ago in September, and I have not experienced any kind of suicidal ideation for over a year and a half. While I was in the thick of it, it felt like I was always going to be stuck in that darkness. The other side of that chasm is so beautiful and so worth the work it took to get here. 

I was very lucky that I already had a therapist who could refer me to a specialist and friends and family who cared very deeply about me and my mental well-being. Seeing a psychiatrist to get on medication was one of the best decisions I ever made.

If you are having or have thoughts like these in the future, please, please talk to a friend and a professional to get help. The world is such a better place with you in it. xx

I’ll Be Proud For You 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Sarah grabbed Quinn's wrist as he walked toward the kitchen. “Do you have plans for St. Patrick's Day?” 

“I think Garly's having a party. Why?” 

“My uncle Travis always hosts a dinner party since we’re Irish, and I wondered if you wanted to come with me.” 

“Sure.” 

A smile took over her whole face, and he was instantly glad he agreed. 

Internally, though, his heart was racing. Her uncle was the closest family she had nearby. When she first moved to the city, she'd lived with him for a year. She still went to his house at least two Sundays a month. Quinn knew they were close.

At least he had a while to mentally prepare. 

“It’s a bit of a drive - they live on Saltspring, so we have to take the ferry.”

“Just means I get to spend more time with you,” he said with a shrug. “Plus, I like it over there.”

Her smile got bigger, and he swore his knees got a little weak. God, what wouldn’t he do for that smile?

“Is there anything I should do to prepare?” he asked, sitting next to her.

“Just wear something green. And don't wear anything that says 'Kiss me, I'm Irish' unless you actually want to be kissed.”

“Wouldn't mind being kissed by you,” he said with a wink. 

Laughing, she leaned over and obliged. 

He instantly wished they weren't at the dining room table so he could lay her out and kiss her like he meant it. 

A few minutes later, the nagging feeling of neglecting her studying won out, and Sarah pulled away. “I'm sorry,” she said, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, “I really need to finish this. Give me thirty minutes?” 

“Then you're mine for the night?” 

She nodded. 

“Okay.” He kissed her forehead and wandered to the kitchen to make dinner. 

As she left school for the aquarium the next day, Sarah called her uncle Travis.

“Hey, Sar, how are you doing?” 

“Good. How are you, Trav?” 

“Great. Samson started crawling on Tuesday.”

“What? No.”

“Yep.” 

“I refuse to believe he’s crawling already.” 

“I know. It’s the worst. What’s up?” 

“I just wanted to let you know I'm bringing someone with me on Sunday.”

“One of your roommates?”

“No, someone I'm seeing.”

He actually seemed to choke on whatever he was drinking and coughed a few times before asking, “I'm sorry, what?”

“We've been going out for a while, and I want him to meet everyone.”

“How long is a while?” 

“Two and a half months.” 

“And you were going to tell us when?”

“I was waiting to see how serious it would be.”

“And it's serious?”

“I think it’s headed that way. I want to see what you think of him.” 

“What's his name?”

“Quinn.” 

“How did you meet?”

“At the aquarium,” she said,  “he asked me out to lunch, and we've been dating ever since.” 

“He lives in the city?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Is there anything I should know about him?” 

“Just that I really like him. Please promise you won't embarrass me.”

“No can do. That's what uncles are for, but I can promise I won't pull out your baby pictures.”

“You don't even have my baby pictures.”

“Precisely. Otherwise, I probably would.”

Rolling her eyes, she asked what she could bring to dinner. After deciding she would bring the soda bread and butter, they hung up, and she sent the plan to Quinn.  

Great. When should I pick you up?

I'm driving, so I'll come get you. 

You have a car? 

Technically, it's my uncles, but I haven't driven in forever, so I’m calling transportation on this one.

He laughed. Tocc canceled practice tomorrow so we can leave whenever. 

I'll pick you up at 1 then? 

What time is dinner? 

5, but the drive over is 2 and a half hours, and I like to be there a little early to help out. 

“Why does your uncle keep a car here?” Quinn asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

“I have parking included with my apartment, so it just made sense. I drop it off at the Ferry terminal once or twice a month for Trev when he has to come to the mainland for work.” 

“I didn’t know that. Let me know next time and I’ll give you a ride home.” 

She shot a grateful smile at him before looking back to the road.

It was a strange thing for Quinn to be a passenger. He was usually the one driving, and rarely got the chance to watch her for such a long period of time uninterrupted.

He was taken with her. With the constellation of freckles on her cheeks and the button of her nose, and the round swell of her bottom lip. He wondered if anyone would notice if they just made out on the ferry ride over. She didn’t have tinted windows. Probably not the best idea.

She was wearing the same green dress she’d worn when Brady came to town. It still looked beautiful and soft, and he still couldn’t stop the fantasies of stripping it off her from clouding his mind. 

“How was your morning?”

“Fine.” he scrubbed his hands over his face, “It’s nice to have a day off.” 

“I bet,” she said, reaching over to entwine her fingers with his. 

They held hands until they hit traffic and she had to get back to the gear shift.

He’d never driven a manual transmission, and he was impressed by her seamless shifting, despite the fact that she was a bit of a terrifying driver. He found himself reaching for the door handle more than once as she weaved in and out of traffic and went a little too fast for his liking.

“How was your day?” he asked to distract himself.

“Good. I did some reading and finished up some assignments I’d put off from earlier in the week.” 

“I didn’t know you were capable of putting things off,” he teased. 

She snorted and threw him a sarcastic look. 

“You’re so organized, I didn’t think you could.”

Quinn had seen her planner once. It was the size of a college notebook with a column for every day of the week. Each of her classes was assigned a different color, and every day was an organized riot: hours blocked for class, work, assignments, tests, and readings to be completed. He didn’t know how she got it all done. He was exhausted just reading it. Then, he’d smiled when he realized he was there. She had all his games and their plans and dates written in sparkly blue ink. 

“I still miss things. Sunday is my catchup day,” she explained. “Usually, I sleep in and do my homework on the ferry over and back, but I wanted to have it done early so I could spend the time with you.”

“It would have been okay,” he said. 

The smile she gave him made his heart patter against his lungs. That, along with a stop so sudden, the seatbelt engaged to snap him back, made it a little hard to breathe. 

“Thank you, but I would rather spend this time with you.” 

His heart warmed at the gesture, and her willingness to give up her one morning to sleep in to spend time with him.

Once on the ferry, they stayed in the car and talked instead of going up on deck. He told her about practice and trying to push aside his nerves about making the playoffs, “Everyone keeps talking about it like it’s a guarantee.” 

“Well, you are second in the league.”

“Yeah, but so much could change. I don’t want to get my hopes up, and the media asks about it practically every day. I’m getting so tired of telling them, ‘that’s what we’re aiming for, and we have a group that can get there.’” He threw his voice into a self-depricating, exaggerated version of itself. 

Despite her attempt to stifle it down, a giggle spilled out of her mouth. “I think they’re probably asking because it’s going to happen.” 

“We don’t know that. Demmer’s out, and we haven’t been doing great…” he trailed off. 

“You’re still first in the Pacific by almost 10 points, Quinn. Can’t you celebrate that for a minute?” 

He sighed, “it’s just… so much can change in a month, and I don’t want to be the guy who talks about how good it will be to play in the playoffs only to have his team not make it. I’d be a laughing stock on the internet for the rest of time and a lesson to all other captains to not jinx it.”

“I’d never considered it that way.” 

He made a noise of ascent in his throat. 

“You can celebrate it with me, though, right?” she asked, lacing their fingers together.

Quinn wanted to agree, he really did, but the superstitious part of his mind went to war against it. The result was a kind of half-hearted grimace.

Laughter burst from her. “Fine, fine. You don’t have to talk about it. I’ll just be proud for you,” she said, bringing his hand to her mouth so she could kiss his knuckles. 

His stomach did a jerking little jig, and a real smile spread over his face. 

Eventually, their conversation turned to her uncle. 

“Trav is a sound engineer, and he toured with Brooks & Dunn for a long time. He moved to Vancouver because he said it’s the most beautiful city he’s been to.” 

“I would agree with that,” Quinn said. 

“Now he stays at home with their kids. Trevor is a copyright lawyer.”

“Oh, your uncle’s gay,” he said with a spark of understanding. 

“Is that a problem?” Sarah asked, raising her brows. 

“No, of course not. I was just confused. You mentioned Trav and Trev, and I wasn’t sure if I was hearing his name wrong or what.” 

When they pulled off the ferry, Sarah turned onto a small two lane road, running away from town. It didn’t look like anything was out here except forest and pebble beaches. 

Sarah had an incredible inherent sense of direction - the kind he had to rely on his phone GPS for - so he knew they weren’t lost, but he couldn’t see anything that looked remotely like civilization.

When they turned onto a small driveway tucked right into the woods, drove up a hill, and pulled in front of a home that looked more like a cabin than a house, Quinn wasn’t too shocked. 

“What a view,” he said as they got out of the car. 

Despite the drizzly weather, the horizon was still stunning. The gray blue water of the Salish Sea seemed to melt into the rolling, gray clouds, making them indistinguishable except where pine covered islands rose out of the water, vibrantly green against all the neutral colors. The city skyline cut a dark, jagged edge across the water. If the commute wasn’t so long, he would live out here, too.

“I know, right?” she said, picking up a tote bag and taking his hand to lead him up to the front door.

“Hey Trav,” she said, embracing him as soon as the door was opened. “Trav, this is Quinn. Quinn, this is my uncle Travis,” she introduced when they broke apart

Other than the fact that he had her same bright blue eyes, her uncle didn’t look anything like he’d expected. Quinn had braced himself to meet a middle-aged man who was around his dads age. Instead, Travis looked no more than ten years older than Sarah. The oldest looking thing about him was his gray hair, which was casually swept back in that effortless way Quinn’s hair could never quite manage. He wore jeans and a green band t-shirt without socks or shoes. His toenails and fingernails were painted various shades of green. 

 “It's nice to meet you, sir,” Quinn said as they shook hands. If he wasn’t so used to seeing it, he would have missed the way Travis’s eyes widened slightly in recognition.

“Just call me Travis,” he said with a snort, trying to cover his shock. “No one has ever called me, sir in my life. Come on in.”

Trying to catch her eye as they passed, Travis wondered how, when he’d asked if there was anything he should know about this guy she was bringing, Sarah didn’t think the fact that he was Quinn Hughes was something he ought to know. She didn’t notice, and he dropped it before Quinn did.

“Beara!” a little girl yelled as she ran toward them. “Beara! Beara!”  She had curly pigtails, each tied with a green bow that flopped as she ran. 

“Sawyer!” Sarah caught her before they collided, picking her up and swinging her around. “I missed you,” she said, pulling the little girl against her chest. 

Putting her hands on Sarah’s cheeks, she said, “missed you more.” 

When she noticed Quinn, she turned her face away from him and put her thumb in her mouth, suddenly shy.

“Sawyer, this is my friend, Quinn,” she said, turning so they could make eye contact. 

“Hi, Sawyer,” he said. “I like your ribbons.” 

She smiled around her thumb at him. She had those same bright blue eyes, though they were slightly wider than Travis or Sarah’s. 

“What do you say to that?” her father coached gently.

“Thank you.” she didn’t take her thumb out of her mouth when she said it, so it was a little garbled, but he got the idea.

Sarah set her down, and she ran back to the kitchen, squealing when Travis chased her down the hallway. 

“Beara?” Quinn asked, humor in his eyes as she took his hand, following after them.

“My whole life, my nickname has been Sar Bear. When she was younger, Sawyer had a hard time saying her S’s, so she started calling me Beara instead of Sarah, and it just kind of stuck.” 

He snorted, “oh god, the guys are going to have a heyday with that.” 

“With what?” 

“You know how they call me Huggy Bear sometimes?”

She nodded. 

“Huggy Bear and Sar Bear?” He snorted, “I mean, come on.” 

The house, while rustic on the outside, was homey on the inside. Neutral gray walls and a modern, light kitchen. It seemed the whole back half of the house was made of glass, giving a perfect view into the misty forest. It was beautiful, but Quinn wasn’t sure he’d want to be here at night to see what came out of those woods.

Sarah was laughing as she entered the kitchen, hand in hand with Quinn. The shock of Quinn Hughes being in his house, of Quinn Hughes dating his niece, who had always been more of a little sister to him, still had him reeling. 

Even through that startling revelation, Travis wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her so relaxed and happy since her parents died. The protective part of him held himself back from reading too much into it. The last thing Sarah needed in her life was more heartache.

“Quinn, this is my uncle Trevor.” 

“It’s nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand, but I’m a little busy,” he said, gesturing to the meat he was fishing out of a marinade. “I hope you like beef stew.” 

“Sounds great.” 

“And this,” Sarah picked a pudgy little boy up from his high chair, “is Samson.” 

Quinn held a hand out to the little boy, who wrapped his tiny fingers around one of Quinn’s as he smiled and babbled. Samson looked more like Trevor. He had dark curly hair, dark eyes, and smooth olive skin. Quinn wondered if each of them had fathered an embryo for a surrogate. 

“Can I get you a beer?” Travis asked. 

“Sure.” 

“We only have Guinness today.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything else. It’s the Irish way, right?” 

Laughing, he handed the can off to Quinn before turning to Sarah. “Hey, can you help me find the barley?” 

He knew he was being obvious as he pulled her into the pantry, but he hoped this was a little less obvious than pulling her back into the living room would be. At least he had an excuse for her help this way. 

As he shut the door behind them, he heard Quinn ask, “is there anything I can help with?” 

Travis clicked the light on. They were standing nearly chest to chest in the tiny room, baby Samson squished between them. He didn’t seem to mind as he continued to babble, reaching out for the brightly colored packages. 

“You didn’t tell me you were dating Quinn Hughes!” he hissed. 

“You know who he is?”

“Everyone in this entire province knows who Quinn Hughes is, Sarah.” 

“I didn’t when we met.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me.” 

“Why not?” If she didn’t have a baby in her arms, she would have folded them over her chest. 

“You’re too busy learning stuff to pay attention to things like that. He was all over the news for three weeks when they put him in as Captain this fall. Plus, you only care about football.” 

“I do not. Well, not anymore, at least,” she said, catching Samson’s hand before he could pull a box of pasta off the shelf. “Anyway, why does it matter that he’s Quinn Hughes?” 

“He’s - I mean,” Travis blew a harsh breath out of his nose. “When you said you met at the aquarium, I thought he was some guy who works there, not the captain of the fucking Vancouver Canucks!”

“He's just a guy, Trav. He just happens to play hockey for a living.” 

His mouth opened and closed as he seemed to realize he couldn't argue against that point. “He’s a pro athlete, Sarah.” 

“So?”

“So, they’re gone all the time, and the money fucks with their heads and pretty soon they’re all cheating on their partners.”

One of her eyebrows arched up, “do you only watch reality TV, or do you sometimes deviate to Lifetime?” 

Despite himself, he laughed. “I just mean,” he paused, glancing down at his green fingernails. Sawyer had insisted on painting them and pulled out every shade of green polish in the house, determined to use them all. “I don’t want you to get hurt. He treats you well?” 

“Yes. Very well. I wouldn’t keep dating him or bring him to meet you if he didn’t. He's actually the best guy I've ever dated,” she added. 

Travis's eyebrows shot into his gray hairline. 

“Just spend some time with him. You'll see. He’s really thoughtful and nice.” 

“Okay, but I’m having a talk with him by the end of the night.” 

“No.”

“Listen, I just need to make sure he’s good enough for you.” 

“Don’t you think that’s something I can decide for myself?” 

“I’m just going to have a chat with him, man to man. You’re the one that wanted to know what I think of him,” he said. “It's happening whether you like it or not. I'm just letting you know.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but don’t embarrass me. And none of that asking for permission bullshit. I'm not a possession.”

“Dont insult me,” Travis chided, smiling, loving seeing pieces of his oldest sister in Sarah. He was glad Becky had instilled those same, strong feminist values in her children. “Of course he doesn't need permission. I just care about you.”

“Thanks, Trav,” she said, touched. 

He pulled her into a hug, smooshing Samson between them more. He let out a tiny grunt.

“Here, take your baby,” she said, handing him off and grabbing a box of cookies as an alibi as she left. 

If Quinn thought anything was suspicious, he didn't let on, continuing to chop the lettuce Trevor had set him to preparing. 

“Teddy Graham?” Sarah asked, offering the box as she stood next to him at the long island.

“Sure.”

“Hey Sar, we were thinking about coming into the city for your birthday. I have to be in that day for a few meetings, so Trav was going to bring the kids on the ferry. Do you think that would work? We thought we could take you to dinner.” Trevor said, looking up from braising the beef. 

“Yeah, I would like that,” she said with a big smile.

As he walked back into the kitchen, Travis caught Quinn’s wide-eyed expression. 

“When’s your birthday?” he asked, tipping the lettuce into a bowl.

“On April third.” 

He gulped. It was a gesture Travis immediately recognized as a man grappling for a purchase with new information.

 Quinn pulled out his phone and quietly breathed, “we’re in Arizona that day.”

“I know,” Sarah said with a smile that tried but didn’t totally succeed in covering her disappointment. 

Something about it made Travis’ hackles rise. Quinn wasn't actively hurting her, but his lifestyle was.

Quinn saved her birthday in her contact card and put his phone back in his pocket. “I guess we’ll celebrate when I get back.” 

“That would be nice,” she said with a smile that was genuine this time.

Travis got her a can of Guiness, and she wrinkled her nose. “Can I have whiskey?”

“You hate whiskey.” 

“I’d rather it than this tar,” she said, pushing the can back to him. “At least whiskey can be mixed into something palatable.”

“Here here,” Trevor said, laughing. 

Travis mimed pulling a knife out of his chest. “You’ve insulted our ancestors, Sarah.” 

“Listen, the Irish invented a lot of really great things: boycotts, modern chemistry, the stethoscope, the submarine,” she said, counting them off on her fingers.

Quinn gave her a surprised look. 

“I did a presentation on Irish inventions in high school,” she explained, flipping her hands, “the point is, is that their alcohol is not one of them.” 

Travis laughed, taking the can for himself. “You want a ginger highball then?” 

She beamed, “I think you know the answer to that.”

“What is that?” Quinn asked. 

“It’s whiskey and ginger ale. It’s delicious.” 

 

Before other guests arrived, Travis asked Quinn if he'd like to see the vintage shelby Mustang he was restoring.

Quinn agreed and gulped when Trevor asked if Sarah could help him find Sawyer. This was one of those talks. He shoved his hands in his pockets and followed her uncle out to the garage. 

“Listen,” Travis said after they admired the beautiful white car, “Sarah isn't my daughter, but she means a hell of a lot to me, and I want to make sure she’s not going to get hurt. She’s gone through enough heartache already.” 

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Quinn licked his lips before responding, “the last thing I want is to cause her more pain. I know she’s been through too much. I don’t know that I can guarantee she’ll never get hurt, but I can say that I would never hurt her intentionally.” 

“Do you think your job will get in the way?” 

“The travel definitely takes a toll. But I really like Sarah, and I think we have a lot of potential.” Times like these, he was glad for all of his media training. Not that this was anything like a press conference, but they did get him used to thinking fast and answering hard questions.

“She’s not really a model NHL girlfriend.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Quinn demanded, barely keeping a glare off of his features. 

“Just that most of your lot date models that don’t have normal jobs and aren’t in school,” Travis said, fighting to keep a smile off of his face. That defensiveness answered a lot of his questions. 

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” he agreed, biting down the urge to correct him. Most of his teammates were married to their high school or college sweethearts. “I like that Sarah has her own stuff and that she’s so independent. Before I met her, I dated a girl like you described, and I was always a little worried about what she was doing while I was on the road. I don't ever get that with Sarah.” 

“What do you do on the road?”

“Mostly, I sleep or hang out with the guys. We don't have as much free time as people think.” 

Travis was still looking at him appraisingly over the hood of the car. Had he not been exposed to Sarah’s blue, blue eyes, he would have found her uncles stare incredibly intimidating. 

“Look, Sir - Travis,” he corrected quickly, “I really -” he stopped himself, not wanting to say that to her uncle first. “I really like Sarah, and we really get along. I know it’s not an ideal thing for me to be on the road during the season, but it seems to be working well so far. I want to be with her, and if she’ll let me, I’d like to be in her life for a long time. I just want to make her happy.” 

Travis nodded. “What’s your favorite thing about her?” It was a question his mother-in-law asked him when he met her. It wasn’t until this moment that he realized what a telling question it was. 

“She treats me like a normal person,” Quinn admitted. Even though he knew it made him sound conceited, it was his favorite thing about her. She’d never treated him like anything else than a normal guy. “And she’s interesting and easy to talk to and really respectful to people around her.” 

“Okay,” Travis said, nodding, glad to see Quinn saw the same things he did. “Okay.” His face split into the natural smile he’d given Sarah when he first opened the door. “I can see why she likes you.” 

Despite his attempt to stay cool and collected, Quinn felt a blush splash onto his cheeks as relief relaxed his shoulders.

“I'm not going to say I'll kill you if you hurt her, but just know she has me and Trevor in her corner.” 

Quinn smiled, “I get it. I would want to hurt anyone who hurt her, too.” 

The dinner party was small - no more than 10 people, and only one of them, their friend’s teenage son, Jace, gawked when he walked in to see Quinn in the kitchen. Quinn took it in stride and talked shop with Jace for a while before dinner was served and he took his seat next to Sarah, who had been watching him with a secret, proud kind of smile on her lips.

Halfway through the night, Travis looked over at them to find Quinn watching her as she talked with someone, with this quiet, infatuated look on his face. A few more of his fears were put to rest.

As he stood at the kitchen sink with his niece, drying the pots and pans she was washing by hand, he leaned closer to her, “I can see what you see in him,” he said, conspiratorially. 

“See,” she said, nudging her shoulder into his as she handed him a knife, “I told you.” 

“How did you manage going to school from here for a year?” Quinn asked as they pulled onto the ferry for the ride home. 

“When I lived with them, they lived in the city. They needed to move into a bigger house when Samson was born. By that time, Trevor was working from home most of the time, and I was okay to live with roommates. So, I moved into the apartment I'm in now, and they moved onto the island.”

He waited until the car was parked before asking, “what do you mean you were okay to live with roommates?” 

She pulled in a heavy breath. It was bound to come out eventually. May as well tell him while they had a solid hour and a half boat ride to talk about it. 

“After my mom died, I really struggled.” 

“Wouldn’t anyone?” Quinn asked. 

Sarah pushed the seat back to give her enough room to turn and face him. Her right knee pressed up against the center console. She needed to be looking at him when she said this.

“I mean… I really,” she paused, trying to find the right words. “I remember I flew back to Hawaii a week after the funeral, thinking it was going to be so nice to get back into my routine, but I had this massive gulf in front of me and a literal ocean between me and my family. My roommates were kind of party animals, and they had no idea how to support me, and I had broken up with Kaleo, my boyfriend, before I left because he didn't want anything to do with her funeral or my grief. It felt like no matter where I was, I was just so…alone.” 

It felt like someone was reaching down Quinn's throat and wringing his heart. 

“I called my sister one day - I think I woke her up, which was really shitty because she had a six month old who was teething.” She laughed a little, but there was too much sadness in it for it to be convincing.

“Anyway, I called her crying because I…I started having these really intense thoughts about killing myself.” 

A steep breath stuck in his lungs. He wasn’t totally sure what he thought she would say, but he hadn’t expected that.

“She flew out to be with me, and I moved home two days later. Just packed everything up and left. I didn’t even tell my boss - I was still on FMLA for the funeral, and she had to call me when I didn't show up to work the next Monday.” 

 “Did you ever…” he trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Attempt?”

He nodded, and Sarah shook her head, “no, but the thought of it was really terrifying. Like, I saw for the first time how someone could get into that headspace where they might take their own life. I just remember ruminating on those thoughts and thinking, ‘I don’t wanna die.’” She pressed the heel of her hand under her eye to catch some of the tears that slipped.

“How did you get out of it?” Perhaps she was just really good at hiding it, but she didn’t seem that depressed in all the time he’d known her. 

“I stayed with my sister for the next nine months. I got on some meds and started seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist, and we talked through what was bringing those thoughts up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d already gone through the grief process with my dad, so I knew how awful it was. I never expected to have to go through another big death while I was still single. I thought by the time my mom died, I would have a consistent partner in my life - maybe even a family - and I just kept thinking, ‘I don’t want to do this again.’” 

Quinn wanted to go back in time and make it better. Somehow make sure they met before she was in the city so he could be there for her when it all happened. 

“Anyway, my psychiatrist told me our brains are basically just big problem solvers. You give it a problem, it wants to fix it. So when I kept telling myself, ‘I don’t want to do this again,’ my brain was just coming up with the swiftest solution for me to not have to do it again. When I changed the way I was thinking about it and started giving myself some more grace, those thoughts lessened a lot.” 

God, she was even stronger than he thought. 

“Even with all that stuff, I still really wanted to go to grad school, and my therapist and my psychiatrist agreed that it was best for me to have a goal to work toward, even if it meant moving away from home. I was really scared that if I moved out totally on my own, those feelings would come up again, and no one would be around for me to talk to about them, and I might hurt myself. But I couldn't study the ocean in Nevada. My brother actually suggested UBC and living with Travis. I called him to see what he thought. I hadn't even applied, but I didn't want to if I didn't have a plan for when I got in. I pitched that I could be a nanny of sorts when I wasn't in school. They told me they’d love to have me stay with them. I applied and by some miracle was accepted on the first try, and the rest is history,” she said, shrugging.

“Do you…” he paused, not totally sure how best to ask this. “Do you still think about it?” 

She shook her head, “not much anymore. Every once in a while, it comes back when a big grief marker comes up, or I get really, really stressed or anxious, but the thoughts are always  really fleeting.”

Even though it meant the console was pressing into his stomach, and she was pitched back slightly, Quinn leaned over to gather her against him. “I can’t believe how strong you are.” 

“It’s not like I had any other choice.” 

“Clearly you did,” he said, reluctantly settling back into his seat. 

“I didn’t,” she said, voice quiet but firm. “There was no way I was going to put my family through another death, and like I said, I didn’t want to die. I wanted to not be in pain anymore, and those are very different things.” 

“I just think you should be proud of yourself, that’s all.” 

“I mean, I am proud that I got out of it, and proud that I know how to ask for what I need now, but being strong in the face of death is just something you have to do. There’s no way out but through.”

“Fine,” he said, repeating her action from earlier and bringing her knuckles to his lips, “I’ll be proud for you.” 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out my Fanfiction Masterlist

[redrose10]

Here is the smut side story that goes with this short story from the picture game.

It’s been a looonnngggg time since I’ve written smut and I’m sure it shows. I hope it’s not too bad though.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, body insecurities, general sex stuff nothing too crazy, crying after sex, everything is consensual

Dinner had been simple and light, not wanting to weigh yourself down. The conversation was fun with lots of smiles and laughter. It felt like old times which you and Yoongi were slowly getting back to. You were moving back into your once shared home bit by bit. Mae was taking all the changes surprisingly well but you really think it helps that she gets to see her daddy almost every day again so she didn’t really care about much else.

You’d gone to a couple therapy sessions with Yoongi and it was very beneficial to you both. You wished you’d gone sooner. His therapist loved the idea of slowly trying to introduce intimacy back into your lives. Which is what you did.

It started with Yoongi using his mouth and fingers to pleasure you on a couple occasions. You always felt terrible that he would never let you return the favor but he assured you he was okay doing without and you understood why so you never pushed him more than just offering.

But a couple weeks ago his doctor switched up his medicine to something new which was supposed to have fewer or lighter side effects. You didn’t want to rush him so you waited until he was ready and last night he asked if your parents would mind taking Mae for a night. He also asked you to bring over that one lingerie set. You played it cool but internally you were screaming with excitement.

And now here you were staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Instead of wearing the old piece you decided to start fresh and buy something new. You chuckled, not because of the way you looked or anything since Yoongi had been working double time to make sure you got your confidence back, but because you couldn’t believe the amount of money you paid for something with such little fabric.

It was weird feeling so nervous to have sex with your husband who you also had a child with so this wasnt anything new. You two used to rip each others clothes off and get right to it but now it felt so foreign and different.

You tied your robe shut and turned off the bathroom light.

Yoongi was sitting on the edge of the bed staring off into space. You knew he was already in his head, probably criticizing himself for things that didn’t even happen yet.

When he heard the door click shut he looked over and smiled.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you in-front of him to stand between his legs, “Come here baby.” You did as he said, starting to run your fingers through his hair to comfort him.

“I’m so nervous.”, he chuckled as he toyed with the string of your robe.

“It’s okay. I am too. But remember that it’s just me Yoongi and we’re gonna take it slow and we’ll work through it together.”

He leaned into your touch loving the way your hands felt on him.

His fingers had a slight shake to them as he pulled a little harder on the string.

“C-Can I?”, he asked.

You nodded, “Please.”

In one movement he pulled on the string releasing the hold it had on your robe. You shimmied your shoulders allowing the silk to slide down to the floor revealing the light blue lace and sheer fabric that adorned your body underneath it.

You felt self conscious and started to worry but any doubts you had were banished when Yoongi’s hands grabbed onto your hips giving them a light squeeze. He licked his lips as he looked you over once again. “Y/N you’re gorgeous and mine, all mine, all for me.”, you heard him mumbling as he placed sloppy kisses over the fabric, surprising you when his teeth lightly grazed your right nipple.

Slowly he helped you out of what you were wearing, his eyes not leaving you once.

“Umm something seems off about this situation right now.”, you giggled while pulling on the sleeve of his t-shirt since he was still fully clothed.

He helped you pull off the fabric tossing it aside before he lifted up so you could pull off the sweats he had been wearing leaving him in just his boxers.

Feverishly you leaned back in searching for his lips. Yoongi pulled you on top of him as he laid back on the bed. You straddled him trying to remember every touch and every spot that would get him going. Things started falling into place.

Your lips started on his neck sucking little bits before slowly trailing down his chest to his stomach and then just below his belly button.

You ran your tongue against the fabric of his boxers feeling him half hard but it got a reaction from him so you did it again this time with a little more pressure.

He moaned your name giving you confidence. You hooked a finger around the waistband of his shorts pulling them down and freeing his large cock that you hadn’t seen in ages. You had forgotten just how beautiful your husband was, every inch of him.

He wasn’t quite there yet but you were determined to bring him to full erection. You placed kisses on his thighs knowing that he liked to be teased. Your kisses turned into little licks that got closer and closer until you surprised him by taking him fully in your mouth. He groaned as his hips bucked up to meet your mouth. Slowly but steadily you bobbed your head up and down on his cock making sure to pay extra attention to the head just like he always liked.

You made sure to even reach up and give his balls a light squeeze knowing that usually increased his pleasure. After several minutes of this he was no harder than when you started.

Trying your best to mask your disappointment you leaned back to catch your breath while still stroking him with your hand.

You tried to go back in with your mouth but he stopped you, “Just forget it Y/N. It’s not going to happen.”

“Yoongs it’s okay. Don’t get upset. Let’s just take a break and we can try again. We have all night.”, you said trying to salvage the situation.

But he pulled on his shorts and walked out of the room leaving you there naked and alone.

Giving him a few minutes you slowly slid on his shirt that he had been wearing and walked out to find him. He was sat on the couch staring at the blank television.

When you got closer he finally looked up at you, “I’m sorry Y/N, I’m sorry I can’t be there for you in the ways you need me to be.”

You sighed feeling frustrated. Frustrated with yourself, frustrated with him for feeling like that, frustrated at the situation.

Gently you leaned him back against the couch and you straddled his lap. You were going to take charge and try things your way.

“Yoongi you’re thinking too much about it. You need to just relax and let your body feel.”, you mumbled into his lips while simultaneously grinding down on his soft cock. You could feel your arousal soaking through his shorts, “And even if we don’t get there tonight I’m perfectly happy just being close to you like this.”

Your words seemed to calm him and his body started to relax back into the couch.

With more force you pushed your wet cunt down on him harder this time while using the friction to get yourself off.

Yoongi’s hands were roaming your body until they settled on your hips helping to hold you down. He always had a thing for letting you use him as you pleased.

“Mmm baby, I don’t even need you inside me. I can cum just like this.”, you moaned in his ear.

He took the hem of the shirt you were wearing and pulled it over you throwing it across the room with force. You laughed until his mouth connected harshly with your left nipple while his large hands squeezed your breast together making a moan escape you.

His hips bucked up encouraging you to continue chasing your high when you felt his bulge growing. He was the hardest he’d been all night. Not wanting to draw attention to it you continued to grind down on him just like you had been. His shorts now soaked with a mix of your arousal and his pre cum.

“Do you trust me?”, you whispered in his ear before nibbling on the lobe.

“Mmhm with my life.”

You continued your movements until he was a mess under you and rock hard.

You lifted your hips up far enough that you could quickly move his shorts down freeing his red swollen cock allowing it to stand straight up. Before he could react you sunk down on him talking all of him in one shot.

The pain was immediately replaced by pleasure as you willingly accepted the familiar girth.

“Oh fuck”, he hissed feeling your warmth and wetness for the first time in over a year.

You gave it another moment for you both to adjust before you began to bounce up and down on his length.

Yoongi was a moaning cursing mess. His head rolling back with his mouth agape. His eyes squeezed shut as he soaked in the sensations and sounds around him. You took the moment to plant kisses along his jaw when he lunged forwarded capturing your lips with his instead.

You were trying your hardest to make sure he enjoyed this moment to the fullest. Using his shoulders for leverage you started bouncing up and down more aggressively letting his cock fully slip out of you before sheathing yourself again. The position giving Yoongi the one of the best views he’s ever seen between your body sliding up and down on his painfully hard erection and your boobs bouncing inches from his face. That combined with the sounds you were making were blissful and he found himself nearly finishing by surprise.

He gasped grabbing a hold of his cock to prevent you from slamming back down on it.

“Fuck sorry Y/N, I nearly came.”, he said out of breath.

You giggled giving him a few kisses before he removed his hand allowing you slip his cock back inside. Once again you began your movements but this time his hands clung to your waist, “Y/N go slow, please. I-I can’t last much longer. It’ll be even less if you keep this up.”, he panted.

“It’s okay Yoongs. Let go whenever you’re ready. I’ve got you.”, you said giving his shoulder a squeeze.

You obliged for a little though. Wanting to keep the feeling of him finally being inside you. You moved slowly, both of you watching as he slid in an out of you.

You started to pick up the pace again though. Your own high was close and you knew he was even closer. You could feel the way he twitched inside, his grip on your waist getting tighter, the concentration on this face as he tried to fight it. Skin on skin and ragged breathing the only sounds in the room.

“Y/N. I…I can’t. You have to stop. I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.”, he cried into your chest.

“Then cum for me. I want to make you feel good. Fill me up baby. I know you want to.”

And that was the final push he needed.

He came inside you with a loud pornographic moan, his body shaking as you continued to ride him through his high wanting him to feel euphoric.

Somehow he still managed to bring his hand to your clit rubbing figure eights and willing himself through the over stimulation as you continued to ride him through your own high as well.

He leaned his forehead against your chest and you placed a kiss on the top of his head.

“Was that okay?.” you asked.

“Y/N, that was more than okay.”, he chuckled.

Both of you stayed like that for a minute because you were exhausted but also just genuinely enjoyed the intimacy that had been missing for so long.

“Thank you…thank you for not giving up on me.”, he sniffled and you realized he was crying.

“Don’t thank me. We’re in this together. No matter what. Everything will be okay.”, you said wiping away his tears with your thumbs.

He kissed you, “I love you Y/N, I love you so much.”

You kissed him again and again making sure he knew you loved him too.

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 41

Author’s note : As always, THANK YOU to @shady-577 who kindly agreed to read this beforehand ❤️. I kept this one short and « sweet » 👀. Hope y’all enjoy it !

When you got to your couple therapy appointment, you were rather optimistic. Both you and Marshall were in a good mood and you went there holding hands, smiles on your faces. You’d even had a talk before, telling each other just how committed you were to making things work, because you were so in love with each other. It would have been childish to expect the therapist to give you praises and a pat on the head for being such a great couple, but you did not expect her to dissect every aspect of your relationship, making it feel like you were under a microscope. She started the appointment by asking each of you to say why you were here and, even though both of you answered by talking about most recent events, she asked a lot of follow-up questions about how the relationship came about. You knew your relationship was far from perfect - after all, every couple has their issues - but it did make a dent on your confidence. During that first session, she seemed to pick up on a lot of things. She mentioned that the both of you treated this relationship like it was something you needed, instead of something you wanted, relying on mechanisms similar to addiction.

- For this relationship to work, you need to want this, she explained.

- We wouldn’t be here otherwise, you said. We’re here because we want it to work.

- Or are you here because you’re too scared of functioning without the other one as a lifeboat ? She asked.

You both stared at each other. Evidently, she had picked up on something. Of course you wanted to be in this relationship. But she was also definitely right about you treating your relationship like an addiction. The time spent apart was like being on withdrawal and Marshall’s presence wasn’t only something you wanted - it was something you craved. In hindsight, it was true that you had relied on him for a lot of things. He had been instrumental in your sobriety, had been there for you through tough times… So maybe you tended to think of him as a solution to your issues.

- Isn’t that what couples are supposed to do ? Marshall asked. Support each other ? What’s wrong with that ?

- Support is indeed a key component of a relationship, the therapist agreed. But there is difference between supporting someone and having your stability rely on them entirely.

- So… You think our relationship is unhealthy ? You asked.

- I’m not here to judge your relationship, she said. I’m here to give you tools to solve your problems and increase intimacy so that you can thrive.

- What do you recommend, then ? Marshall asked.

- I’d like to see you both on a weekly basis, she said. I already see Marshall regularly, but we might also schedule appointments with you, Y/N. I will also be giving you exercises.

- Like homework ? You asked.

- Like homework, she said with a smile. I’ll end today’s session with a simple one : go on a date.

- A date ? You chuckled. We already live together. We’re past that.

- From what I gathered, you haven’t dated for very long, if at all, she explained. The dating stage is crucial in a relationship. It helps build communication skills, it nurtures emotional intimacy, it also helps establish trust and commitment.

- We can give that a go, Marshall said as he took your hand.

- Good then, she said. I’ll see you next week.

You left the therapist’s office a bit puzzled. Overall, you were satisfied, but you were also a bit frustrated. All this first session had done was set the tone but you hadn’t really gotten to talk about the events that had led to this session. You had mentioned the track, how hurt you were, as well as the cheating part, but you hadn’t addressed it fully. Marshall, however, seemed rather satisfied. He mentioned something about it taking at long as it takes and being willing to put in some work. All in all, it was encouraging and it gave you hope that you could actually move forward as a couple.

- So… A date ? You asked playfully.

- It’s true that I’ve never really taken you out on a proper date, he chuckled. We just got down to business.

- We already knew each other, though, you pointed out.

- Still… We could use a date, I guess, he said. A real one.

- I’d like that, you nodded.

He pressed a kiss to your temple and told you he had an idea. All you needed to do was to trust him. You decided to leave the planning up to him and, as you went home, you got back to your usual schedule, planning details for Talia and Jamal’s wedding. You were looking at stuff on your iPad while Marshall was next to you, reading a comic book. Your phone started ringing and you froze as soon as you saw the name on the screen. It was Simon. You weren’t too sure what to do so you just let it ring. Marshall was absorbed by his reading and didn’t see the caller ID.

- You’re not picking up ? He asked.

- No, you said quietly.

- What’s wrong ? He questioned as he looked up.

- It’s Simon, you said earnestly.

- Oh.

He stared at you intently, clearly waiting to see what your next move would be. You quietly hummed and went back to your web browsing. However, the phone kept on ringing and ignoring it, with Marshall’s gaze upon you, was growing harder.

- Do you want to pick up ? He asked.

- I don’t know, you admitted.

- Do you want to talk to him ?

- I don’t know, you repeated.

- Do you miss him ?

- I don’t, you sighed. Marshall, please stop with your questions. You’re not helping matters.

- I can’t take it, he said. I’m sorry but I can’t shake the image of him holding you. Touching you. Kissing you. And knowing he is blowing up your phone makes me mad.

- I get it, you said as you reached for his hand. I’m sorry. I’m yours. You know that, right ? And we’re working through it.

- I know, he said as he held your hand. But knowing you’re mine doesn’t change anything to my will to eviscerate him.

- Marsh… I know it hurts but… I’m the one at fault, you said. I’m the one who kissed him. It’s my mistake. Simon didn’t do anything wrong.

He stared at you silently and nodded. You kissed his cheek and held his hand in yours. Obviously, he hadn’t forgiven you yet, and he was still hurt by the whole situation.

- You’re too good, he sighed. I wish you would just say he’s as faulty as you. I wish I could blame him instead of you. I think that’s what hurts the most. It would be so much easier.

- I’m sorry, you said sheepishly. But I can’t lie… I’d rather be honest.

- Speaking of honesty… when are you going to tell him to beat it ? He asked.

- Tell him to beat it ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

- You’re not really going to entertain this, are you ?!

- I… no, you said. I’m not entertaining anything. But Simon has been a true friend this past week. He even offered to help me look for a job.

- Your « true » friend explored your tonsils days ago, he pointed out coldly. Your « true friend » wants much more than a friendship.

- He pushed me away, you said. As a friend should.

- Is that why you’re back ? He asked. Because he pushed you away ?

- What ? No, you said in disbelief. I’m here because I love you, Marshall. I’m here because you said we can work things out. Because that’s what I want. I want to be with you.

He looked at you intently, not saying anything. You could see the sadness in his eyes. It was a feeling you knew all too well, it was the same feeling you’d felt when you learned about what happened with Tracy in London. Knowing the person you loved had been touched by hands that aren’t yours, been kissed by another’s lips, and wondering what could have happened if things had gone further. Your heart strained and you were feeling more guilty than ever.

- What if he hadn’t pushed you away ? He asked as he swallowed dryly. What if he had taken you to bed ? Would you have let him ?

- I don’t know, you confessed. I hope not.

He closed his eyes and sighed. Obviously, it was not the desired answer and you knew it hurt, but you also didn’t want to lie to him. You respected him too much to lie to his face. You brought a hand to his cheek and stroked it. You could see him release the tension of his clenched jaw as you touched him. You placed a kiss at the corner of his lips, then another one in his neck.

- Marshall, I love you, you said. I am yours. Yours only.

- I know it’s my fault, he said as his eyes were still closed. I know that… the way I made you feel is what led you to do it. But it still fucking hurts, Y/N.

- I’m sorry, you said as you kept on kissing him. I’m so sorry. I love you. You know that, right ?

He simply nodded, eyes still closed. You kept on kissing him, hoping that it would make his pain go away. He wasn’t too responsive, at first, but he let you kiss him nonetheless. Eventually, he kissed you back, each kiss growing more passionate. You were straddling his lap and you could feel him getting hard underneath you.

- I’m yours, you whispered.

- If you don’t stop what you’re doing, I’m going to take what’s mine, he warned.

- Yours, you repeated as you kissed him.

- You can still barely walk, he pointed out.

- Just be gentle, then.

He hummed and kissed you hungrily. His hands on your hips pinned you against him and his rock hard erection. You were soaking wet already and you whimpered, aching to feel him. Five minutes later, you were naked and he was on his knees, face buried between your legs. His soft tongue against your clit felt heavenly. He was making you see stars and you were about to come but you needed more. You begged for him to be inside of you and you could see the hesitation on his face. He got undressed and positioned himself at your entrance. You winced a little when he entered you, still sore from the previous day’s exertions, and he almost stopped but you pleaded for him to keep going. You needed to feel him inside of you, dying to have this heavenly connection. You were all his and you needed him to feel it. You were laying in the couch, legs wrapped around his waist, moving your hips in sync. His moves were slow but he was hitting the right spots. You were a moaning mess under him.

- it’s so good, you whimpered.

- Yeah ? He asked.

- Yeah, you moaned. Please don’t stop.

- Say you’re mine, he pleaded.

- I’m yours, Marshall… I’m yours, you cried in pleasure.

- Say you’ll tell this motherfucker to beat it, he ordered.

You stared at him in shock, confused by both your pleasure and his request. You didn’t want to think about it. Especially not in the middle of sex. You were desperate for him to make you come, but his movements stilled.

- Marshall, please, you pleaded.

- Say it and I’ll make you come, he said.

- Marsh… i- no…

- Maybe you can ask Simon to make you come then, he groaned as he stopped what he was doing.

You stared at each other for a second and, before you could fully comprehend what was going on, he was pulling his sweatpants up and leaving you, naked on the couch, in a state of frustration and confusion.

MARSHALL’S POV - 3 HOURS LATER

He had left Y/N on the couch,right in the middle of sex. He wanted to please her, to give her what she wanted, make her see stars and bring her to orgasm but he couldn’t let go of the thought of Simon. It haunted him, kept coming back at the worst moments. Every time he looked at her and thought of how in love he was, he couldn’t help but think of her ex. The one she had willingly kissed. Thinking about her with him made it sick to his stomach and the thought of him calling her was driving him mad. Usually, he would have vented in the form of writing lyrics but the last time he had picked up his pen, it hadn’t worked too well.

He knew it was a dick move, using sex as a way to get her to get rid of Simon, leaving her high and dry. But he couldn’t help it. He had to get the anger out or his system. He spent two hours in the gym, punching his boxing bag, imagining Simon’s dumb face in its place. He punched until his fists were almost numb but at least, it did a decent job helping him with his thoughts. After a hot shower, he went to the bedroom, where he found her laying in bed, reading a book. She was focused on the reading, not paying attention to him. He observed her face, as beautiful as usual even though she was clearly frowning.

- Hey, he said as he leaned against the doorframe.

- Hi, she said dryly without looking up.

- I’m sorry, he sighed. I’m an asshole.

- You are, she nodded.

- I’m really sorry, though, he said apologetically.

- About what ? She asked as she looked him in the eyes. Using sex to get back at me ? Leaving me high and dry without so much as an explanation ?

- All of it, he said. I just… I didn’t plan- I don’t deal with it very well. I keep on seeing you with him. And knowing you want to keep talking to him… it hurts so much, Y/N. I can’t stand it.

- I know, she said. I know.

- I don’t think you do, actually, he said sheepishly.

- Right. It’s not like you had me meet your ex-wife and mother or your children, or like you keep working with your ex, she said sarcastically.

He stared at her in silence. She had a point and, as hard as he was trying to come up with an argument to counter it, he couldn’t. He simply sat on the bed and looked at you.

- Right, he said sheepishly. So… you’re going to keep him in your life ? I just… I need to know because… the thought of you being around the dude you cheated on me with…

- Marshall, I just need a minute, she sighed. You have absolutely no idea how hard it’s been for me. And I know I’m not the only one suffering, here. And I don’t mean to be selfish. But the truth is… Simon was here for me, and even though I regret what happened, he did act like a friend. And even though I know I’m going to have to tell him that we can’t keep talking, I just need to wrap my head around it. Not because I love him. Not because I miss him. But because I’m lonely. Besides you, I only have two friends. Talia and Jamal. And I love your friends, but they’re not mine. And now, it’s going to be even harder to connect with people because your song is humiliating for me. And I know i hurt you but guess what ? You hurt me too. Several times. And I’ve been doing a lot of the emotional work in this relationship. I’ve moved countries for you. I’ve given up a ton of things for you. I have accepted a lot of things for you. I just need a minute to adjust. And I need you to understand that it’s hard for me.

He swallowed dryly and looked at her. He knew he had put her through a lot but hearing her saying it frankly and out loud felt different. Suddenly, he felt like the most selfish person on earth. He sat on the bed and took her hand.

- I’m sorry, he said.

- I’m sorry too, she replied. I guess… we both put each other through things that are hard to get over.

- Yeah, he nodded. But I love you, Y/N. I just want us to be happy. Just tell me what you want, what you need and I’ll get it for you.

- I just need time, Marshall, she said. And I know I hurt you but you using sex as a form of punishment or whatever that was is not ok.

- I didn’t mean to, he said. It’s just… I don’t have a lot of ways to work through my feelings. I either rap about them or fuck them out of my system. Or exercise.

- Hence the bruised knuckles ? She asked.

- Yeah, he shrugged. I know it sucks. I just… have to work on it, I guess.

- I know, she said softly. And I know you’ve been putting some actual work, with therapy and everything. I see it.

He laid down and rested his head on her knees, closing his eyes as she ran her fingers on his scalp. Her touch was soft and he felt at peace, wishing they could stay like this forever.

- I love you, he mumbled. I’m so scared to lose you.

- I’m scared too, she said.

- I don’t care what the therapist said, he continued. I’m ok with being addicted to you.

- Im addicted to you, too, she said softly. I can’t stay away from you. It’s like… I always need my fix.

He sat up and kissed her lovingly. She leaned into his embrace and they kissed hungrily, pouring their feelings into the kiss, whispering sweet words to each other.

- Let me give you your fix, he whispered. I want you.

- Are you going to leave me high and dry ? She asked.

- No, he promised.

She nodded and, soon enough, they were under the sheets, moaning each other’s name. He made up for his earlier outburst and made it a point to make her come again and again, until she had tears of pleasure streaming down her face. Afterwards, they cuddled, simply enjoying each other’s warmth. They were all fucked-out, exhausted. They were about to fall asleep when Y/N’s phone started ringing. He looked at the screen and saw Simon’s name, which made him tense up instantly. After the talk they had, though, he understood her position and, even if it physically hurt him, he didn’t say anything. She threw him an apologetic glance before picking up, getting up from bed as she took the call.

- Hi, Simon, she said. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t pick up sooner… Yes, I’m good… Well, I’m back home… with him, yes… We’re working through it… Look, I don’t know how to tell you but… I don’t think I can keep talking to you. I hope you understand…

He could her her conversation - or at least what she was saying and his heart felt a little lighter as he heard her say she couldn’t talk to him anymore. It was selfish, but it felt good.

- I love him, she said. I need to do what’s best for me… thank you for understanding… wait… are you sure ? … what’s that about ? … I guess… Ok.

She came back to bed and handed him the phone. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

- He wants to talk to you, she whispered.

- I don’t want to talk to him, he scoffed loud enough for Simon to hear. Tell him to go to hell.

- He says it’s important, she insisted.

He sighed and took the phone.

- Hello ? He asked. What do you want ?

- Hi, he heard Simon say. Marshall’s is it ? I have information you might find useful.

- Look, man, he replied curtly, I don’t know what you want but you heard Y/N. We don’t need you. So whatev-

- I know who leaked your track, Simon said. The one about Y/N.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Keepsafes

Fandom: Batman, DC Comics

Summary: AU where Martha and Bruce survive, and they adopt the batkids.

Chapters: 7/?

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Harvey Dent, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, David Cain, Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Relationships: Thomas Wayne/Martha Wayne/Alfred Pennyworth, BruHarvey, BruTalia

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Angst, Alfred Pennyworth Knows All, Bruce Wayne Only Has One Child, Bruce Wayne is Not An Only Child, Bi Bruce Wayne

Chapter Seven: Harvey

After a year and a half, Thomas began to walk with the assistance of a cane, and he went straight back to working at the clinic. Martha started seeing a therapist twice a month, while Bruce was in school, and Bruce saw Isaiah twice a month. It wasn’t until Bruce’s eleventh birthday another year and a half later, that Martha stopped going… And things started to return to normal for them. Or something a little bit better than normal. 

Bruce had only been back in school for two months when he and Harvey started getting close. Harvey was new, and he wasn’t like the other kids. Despite threats from the other children in their class, Harvey chose to spend time with Bruce. He picked Bruce first in sports, always partnered up with him on projects, and listened to Bruce talk about the things he liked. The whole family heard about him at length, but they’d never met him. Bruce talked about him whenever they were apart. Harvey loves this. Harvey showed me this. Harvey says he does things like this. Harvey said he’s never tried this before. Can you believe Harvey takes the train all by himself? Bruce never talked about anything else. But he was happy, and it felt like a relief to know someone could reawaken his excitement for school again. 

Bruce rushed to the car, dragging another boy along while Alfred stood outside the car. “Alfred! Alfred, can Harvey come to dinner with us?” Bruce asked. Harvey clutched the left strap of his backpack with his right hand. 

“Does Master Harvey have permission to come over today?” Alfred asked. Harvey nodded. 

“Oh, please! Please, Alfred! I won’t ask for anything else for the rest of the day. I promise,” Bruce begged. Alfred nodded as he let both boys into the car. 

Bruce was more excited than he’d been in years. It was a pleasant change from the fretful, teary-eyed sprint to the car. Harvey set his backpack on the floor, and Bruce followed him. “What did the two of you do today?” Alfred asked. 

“Harvey was my partner for tennis today! He’s really good! We won,” Bruce grinned. 

Alfred held back a smile. “And Master Harvey? I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. Are you new to the area?” 

“Uh… No. I’m a scholarship student. This is my first year here,” Harvey answered. 

“That’s excellent,” Alfred replied. 

“Thank you, sir,” Harvey smiled.

**

Bruce and Harvey were chasing each other around the living room when Thomas came home from the clinic. He hung his outdoor cane up by the door and switched over to his indoor one, covered in stickers that Bruce gave him. “Hate to interrupt all the fun, Bruce, but who’s your friend?” Thomas asked. Bruce hugged Thomas, letting his father rustle a hand through his hair. 

“I’m Harvey Dent, sir... Nice to meet you,” Harvey panted as he reached to shake Thomas’ hand. Thomas shook his hand. 

“I’m Mr. Wayne, Bruce’s dad. Nice to finally meet you. You’re a very popular name in this house. Are you staying for dinner?” Thomas asked. Harvey nodded. “Well, we’re thrilled to have you. Bruce speaks highly of you… And you caught us on our best night. Tonight’s taco night.” 

Martha came downstairs and ran toward Thomas. Thomas hadn’t been home in three days, so Martha only saw him in passing when she dropped off lunch and dinner for him. She ran into his arms, and he held on tight, so she couldn’t knock him down. “I missed you so much,” Martha whispered. Thomas chuckled as he kissed her cheek. “Are you too tired for dinner?” 

“I’m excited for dinner. Have you met Harvey yet?” Thomas asked. 

“I have as soon as they came in. Boys, it’s fine if you want to keep playing before dinner. Homework’s been accounted for. You’re both free to go,” Martha joked. Bruce took Harvey upstairs, leaving Martha and Thomas alone in the living room. She kissed his lips and felt his chest through his collared shirt. “Your heart’s beating so fast. Are you okay?” 

Thomas took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, but it was so nice to see Bruce and his friend. I can hold it together for dinner,” Thomas confessed. Martha nodded. She knew better than to ask at that moment. It took everything in Thomas to put on a brave face for everyone but the past three days took a toll on him. 

Alfred called everyone for dinner, and Thomas quietly took Alfred’s hand in the kitchen. “I need you to sit at the table with us today, Alfred. Please… None of this professional bullshit. I just want to have dinner with my family and Bruce’s friend tonight. I need you there with us,” Thomas pleaded. It was just the two of them in the kitchen, so Alfred pressed his forehead to Thomas’, letting their noses touch before kissing Thomas. 

“As you wish,” Alfred replied before returning to his stern stance and grabbing the serving dishes. “My love…” 

Thomas took a deep breath and smiled. “Thank you, handsome,” Thomas replied as he tried to pull himself together. Alfred set the table and went to the kitchen to wash his hands. He glanced over at Thomas, who was desperately trying to find a way to smile without crying. 

“A shot of tequila, Master Thomas?” Alfred offered. 

“Hm… Maybe after dinner,” Thomas softly smiled as he followed Alfred to the dining room. 

**

Thomas offered to drive with Bruce to drop Harvey off while Martha and Alfred cleaned up, and he drove home in near-silence with Bruce in the front seat. “Dad, what’s wrong?” Bruce asked. “Did you not like Harvey?”

“No, that’s not—. That’s not the issue,” Thomas whispered. His throat was tight as he held back tears. 

“Are you mad at me?” Bruce asked. Thomas shook his head. 

“No… No, I’m not mad at you,” Thomas replied, “I’m just exhausted, Bruce. That’s all. The ER at Gotham General had a lot of overflow, and the ambulances had to reroute a lot of patients to the nearest hospitals and clinics.” 

“Was it bad?” Bruce asked. Thomas inhaled sharply through his nose as he nodded. “Did they ask you to go home for a few days because it was bad?” 

“Mhm… They said I need a break. I haven’t slept in two days. I keep hearing the sirens and wheels clicking over cracks in the floor. I love my job, Bruce, but I’ve never seen anything like the things I’ve seen these past few days,” Thomas whispered, “I love you. I love you so much, Bruce. Do you know that?” 

“I love you too, Dad,” Bruce whispered. 

Thomas cleared his throat and started the car up. “Harvey’s a nice kid. Are you thinking about going trick-or-treating with him this year?” Thomas questioned.

“Would it be okay?” Bruce asked in reply.

Thomas smiled and nodded. “I think it’s better than okay. Harvey seems like he’s got a good head on his shoulders,” Thomas replied, “You really like Harvey. Don’t you, buddy?” Bruce smiled and nodded. “Are you okay, son?” 

“Mhm… I had a good day at school, and I’m glad you’re home. I missed you so much,” Bruce replied. Thomas reached for Bruce’s hand and squeezed it. 

“I missed you too, Bruce… And thank you for letting me drive and clear my head. I needed a minute with you to remind me of the beautiful parts of life. Smiling children, friendship, sons and their fathers…”

[lovebugism]

hi babe hope this isn’t too personal but not having the greatest time right now. therapist did not answer any of my calls today so im kinda a mess 🥲🥲 if you’re willing to write any kind of comfort fic with any character that would be the best 💗💗💗

hi anon! i hope things are going better now! take this eddie munson comfort fic as my attempts to make you feel a wee bit better ily mwah <3

You were pretty good at taking care of yourself most of the time. Eddie always thought your innate sense of responsibility was extremely hot — mostly because it meant that you were even better at taking care of him.

He said it was a perk of being your boyfriend — “one of many,” he’d say, just before smacking a kiss to your cheek.

You were the yin to his yang in that way. Peace in all his chaos.

Eddie, himself, was a being who thrived on mayhem. There wasn’t a single thing he loved more than unpredictability — well, you, of course. Then maybe DnD. But spontaneity was a close third.

He isn’t quite sure how to live his life without the company of total disarray. He isn’t sure he would want to if he had the chance either. The unexpected makes things fun. At least, that’s what he always tells you. You’re not so sure.

When he makes you late to things because of his horrible time management skills, or he can’t find his keys because they’re hidden somewhere underneath a pile of clothes in the corner of his room, it feels a little like the end of the world.

And not just in the oh no, this thing is really stressing me out; good thing I know it’s illogical sort of way. But in the oh fuck, we’re gonna be ten minutes late to this get-together where there are zero consequences whether we show up or not, but it’s inducing so much panic that I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to function properly.

You’ve gotten pretty good at hiding your fear over the years. It’s just that Eddie’s so damn attuned to everything going on in your head that it makes it insanely difficult to wallow in your dread alone.

He knows when you start pacing and talking a million miles a minute that something’s working you up. He knows when you start getting snappy and don’t think his jokes are funny anymore that you’re close to your breaking point. He knows when you stop talking altogether that your entire world is caving in around you.

So Eddie takes great care in getting to things on time and tidying up his room when you're around. He doesn’t even care that he finds it all a bit irrational, he just wants to make things easier for you. Even if it means getting to Steve’s house an hour before everyone else or actually folding his clothes before putting them in drawers.

Eddie knows you use structure like a weapon rather than a shield. Organization isn't a way to keep your life together, it’s to keep it from falling apart. When something is out of order, when there’s one piece out of place, it’s not an easy fix — not for you. It’s more like a ticking tomb. 

You’re the ticking time bomb. And the faintest scent of disorder is bound to make you explode.

But maybe calling it a bomb isn’t the most accurate way to describe it. The way Eddie sees it, it’s a lot more like an avalanche.

It starts off small, a little rumble of uncertainty that jostles the comfort of your routine. You blink and suddenly the snowball weighs two tons and you’ve spiraled into a full-blown crisis that threatens to swallow you whole.

You don’t let anyone see any of it. Not even Eddie a lot of the time. You just bury yourself in the landslide until the heavy snow melts and you can function normally again — it may last a couple hours, maybe weeks.

So it’s a good thing Eddie can see all the warning signs before they start.

It’s all the little shit he notices first — the not showering as often, the not keeping things as tidy as usual, the closing yourself off. Eddie Munson knows a depression room when he sees one. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know you’re slipping.

But rather than acknowledge that boogeyman, he pretends like it isn’t there at all. He thinks if he acts like it doesn’t scare him, then it doesn’t have the power to hurt him. That’s exactly how he treats the funks you get into. He knows they’re there but doesn’t let them take over completely.

Eddie comes around whenever he gets the chance and helps you do your self-care routine — even though all you do is complain that you don’t need his help the entire time.

He coaxes you into the bath and tidies up your bedroom while you’re gone. He does all the steps of your skincare for you after because he knows you can’t do it yourself. You’re too tired to, but you feel like shit when you don’t. That’s the same bitter cycle that started this whole mess.

He doesn’t do anything crazy. He just takes care of the little things to make you feel less consumed by it all.

You’re a pouting mess in the middle of your bed after, freshly cleaned and drowning in a too big shirt that smells like the musk of Eddie’s cologne with a towel twisted up in your hair. It’s almost cartoonish, the way you cross your arms over your chest and scrunch your face in displeasure.

“I don’t want you to do all this stuff for me, Eds,” you gripe. “I’m a big girl, okay? I can do it myself.”

The boy shrugs from where he stands at the foot of your bed. “I know I don’t have to. I want to, though. I like doing this stuff for you.”

“You hate cleaning, Eddie.”

“Yeah. I do,” he affirms with a nod, all but flopping onto the mattress beside you. He rests his head on his fist and blinks up at you with wide, twinkling button eyes. A grin pulls at his pink lips as he asks you, “But you know what I don’t hate?”

You huff but entertain him anyway. “…What?”

“You,” he beams and taps the tip of your nose with his pointer finger.

You meet his smile with a grimace.

“Actually, I sort of love you, as it turns out,” he corrects himself in a lilt. “And when you love someone, you do the shit you hate to make them happy, right? Isn’t that what it’s all about?”

You don’t answer him, just shrug.

“Well, either way, I’m happy to do all the boring shit if it means there’s a chance I get to make you feel even a little bit better,” Eddie tells you, pinching his thumb and forefinger together and leaving just an inch or more of space to squint his eye through.

That hand flops down and lands on your thigh. His thumb absentmindedly rubs over the skin there. His smile turns sheepish.

“I will happily fold laundry and do taxes and wash dishes and… all that stupid, boring shit for you for the rest of my life, as long as I can look over and see you next to me…”

Your heart swells with a distant happiness you haven’t felt in weeks.

Eddie helps you until you feel better enough to do it yourself.

Needless to say, when he stops by your place and finds it completely spotless, he doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. He rushes to your room and finds you in bed, flipping through a book. The small radio on your bedside table plays something synth-y.

He realizes you’ve traded in The Smiths for The Psychedelic Furs and that your lavender candle is burning on your desk and that you’ve spritzed yourself in your vanilla perfume.

Those are all staples in your little routine that you borderline can’t live without. You always missed out on them when you got into your funks, but here they are again…

Eddie tries not to smile too wide.

“How’s it hangin’?” he sing-songs when he waltzes into your room.

“Fine...” you murmur, half-distracted by your novel. After a few long seconds, your eyes finally flit up to his. He’s doing a terrible job of hiding a grin. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”

Eddie shrugs as he takes off his leather jacket. He neatly lays the thing over the back of your desk chair and smooths out the wrinkles.

“‘Cause I love the shit out of you,” he answers like it’s nothing, like the words don’t mean everything to you. “And I’m really fucking proud of you.”

“Proud of me?” you echo in a scoff.

Because, to you, crawling out of a three week long funk is hardly something to be proud of. You don’t feel like you should be rewarded for being human, but Eddie knows that getting through the hard shit is a part of being human. And he’s so goddamn proud of you for it.

“Yep,” he nods with pink cheeks and a hopeful grin. “I’ve never been prouder of you, babe. And, like, I’m always proud of you, so that’s saying something.”

“Shut up,” you mutter under your breath. Your attention flits back to your book rather than focusing on the intense gaze Eddie looks at you with. You don’t get through a single sentence before he rips the thing from your hands. “Eddie!—”

You look at him again and find that he’s sterner now, but still so tender — chocolate eyes hardened but soft around the edges. There’s a kind grin on his and an air about him that tells you he’s serious. 

Eddie rounds your bed and plants himself at the edge of it. He keeps your book hostage in one hand and holds onto your calf with the other, running his thumb over the soft skin of your knee.

“I’m serious,” he tells you. “Like, I know shit gets hard for you sometimes, but... I don't know, watching you get through it is… really fucking cool, babe.”

He laughs when it makes you laugh.

“Seriously. It’s like you get stronger every day, and… not to be a total sap or whatever, but I feel really lucky that I get to see it.”

You’re not sure whether to duck away from his gaze or revel in its warmth. You manage somehow to do both with a distant pout on your face. 

Eddie’s grin widens until the dimple in his right cheek reveals itself.  “What?” he laughs. “What’s that look for?”

“‘Cause you’re nice to me,” you mumble like the cutest little storm cloud. “And it’s gross… And also I love you.”

“Well, get ready, babe. You got a whole lifetime of me being nice to you coming your way, so… Be prepared to be sick of me by the time we’re all old and wrinkly, alright? ‘Cause I’m still gonna love the shit outta you then.”

You grumble when he smacks a kiss to your knee.

You hope he keeps his promise.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for not inviting my friends friend to my wedding?

👰‍♀️

We’re all women in our mid 20s. I have this friend Fran* who I was friends with in hs lost contact and re-connected with. Fran js friend with Tisha who I was friends with middle school and some of hs and not gonna lie I ghosted her (I’ll explain later.) Fran and Tisha are super close.

I got engaged recently. And I’ve been planning a wedding. Fran likes wedding stuff and wants to watch the process with me. However she’s been inviting Tisha to our lunches without telling me Tisha is gonna be there. It’s uncomfortable because when they ask about my wedding Tisha always has something to say. “I’m thinking about a spring wedding” “the weather is awful here in the spring time” (example).

So for some info. When in school Tisha started using me as a butt a lot of jokes as the years went on. She was always trying to call me dumb, and project her insecurities on Me. (Tisha does/did have a hard life). I ended up telling Tisha some issues I was going through and later she used it to make a joke saying I was dumb for letting that sorta stuff happen to me (not super dark but still a dick move). She loved to use me as a therapist in private and love to make fun of me in public. Something snapped in me, and every time she was be rude to me I’d say something like “that’s a weird thing to say” or is look her up and down and just make a face. When she’d asked to cheat off my papers I’d tell her she wouldn’t want to cheat off my stupid answers. I was lucky I had other friends that I just hung out with to avoid her. She never asked for answers and I never expected her to.

I went to college far away, lived away for awhile and then moved back to work at a start up that has been awesome.

When I reconnected with Fran it was awesome. We mutually reached out since we both liked the same restaurants in the area.

Fran would try to get me to wanna hangout with Tisha and try to plan something and I told her that Tisha is a good person, but I don’t really need to reconnect with her. She would “respect” that until later she would ask again. I never told her the details because I still questioned if I was being too sensitive or not about Tisha. Not gonna lie I do pity Tisha and I hate the idea that someone like that ever did intimidate me. She’s just a reminder that I was ever awkward. Fran hasn’t asked me for the whole story. However I couldn’t avoid Tisha forever. Fran would throw a party and Tisha was there. And I knew she would be. And she was the same.

Tisha fran and I are all bisexual. When I’d hang out with them they’d sometimes refer to me as a lesbian or a wasted lesbian because now I’m marrying a man. I’d tell ‘em I’m uncomfortable with that since I’m bisexual. Fran respected it, Tisha would “forget”.

Tisha dropped out of college and I did for a bit. I told her I did the same and she would just tell me the career she was doing was so much harder than mine that I couldn’t understand how hard her life is. (It was a hard program, and she does have a hard life but again it’s that “I have it worse Olympics”) Tisha even made a joke that I got a job I wanted and I didn’t even needed to finish my college program for it since I got the job before I got my degree. I just said yeah I’m a quick learner.

I don’t see Tisha much, maybe 3 times a year before. So I just figured I’d roll with the punches because I love Fran she is awesome. Tisha kinda brings fran down too. They both kinda enable each other to be down in their dumps. They’re not dating but they’re like each others plus ones. I’ve been helping fran budget, opening new banking accounts and getting a credit card that’s good for her. Fran was grateful and tisha heard she said we were bowing our heads to capitalism.

Anyway ever since I got engaged fran has been brining Tisha everywhere. I had planned on telling fran privately, I don’t want it hanging out with Tisha, but also Tisha is not coming to my wedding. Before I could do that, while we were at lunch, TISHA MADE THE ASSUMPTION SHE WAS A BRIDES MAID.

I asked her why did she think that and she said we’ve been friends longer than fran and I. I said you’re not invited, we don’t talk privately, we don’t text, we don’t hang out, and you don’t like my fiancé because he’s a man. Fran was shocked and said couldn’t Tisha be her plus one and it’s uncofortable to talk about events someone isn’t invited to. I said that they both have been asking about it. The lunch ended.

Fran has been asking me to consider letting Tisha ve her plus one since dating is hard. Tisha thought the things I mentioned were objectives so now she is texting me, and said she wants to meet my fiancé to get to know him so she can go to the wedding.

I was trying to be nice by never mentioning to fran I really hate Tisha, but now they’re both upset and I regret not being mean. I feel like an asshole.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Constant Faith and the Life it Brings

Part 2 of Constant Faith | Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!worship pastor!reader

Summary: After your church is robbed, Tim learns how you got into faith and helps you learn to share your story.

Warnings: mentions of armed robbery and past arrests, basically a testimony based on the request, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

A/N: I loved writing this!! The worship pastor!r dynamic is right up my alley and I definitely sprinkled little parts of my own testimony and time in church in here.😊

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

The days following the robbery are strange, but you believe in promises and know that God and Tim keep them. As Tim helps the robbery unit work the case, you meet with different church members to pray together.

When Sunday rolls around, and the sanctuary is still treated as an active crime scene, your pastor welcomes everyone into his home for service and fellowship. You lead worship as usual, but hearing all the voices mixing and praising God together, trusting that He has the situation in His hand and would use it for His purpose, is a unique and beautiful experience. One you wouldn’t have had without a walk through the valley of the shadow, you think as you finish a song.

As you go home Sunday afternoon, you think about everything that has led you to this exact moment in your life and your faith. There are parts of your testimony you don’t like sharing with just anyone, not because you doubt what God has done for you or want to keep His message to yourself, but because it brings up memories that remind you of a painful time. Living through an armed robbery and experiencing how much your church family loves and cares for one another, however, gives you strength and encouragement that your story could help others who are in similar circumstances. That inherent need to help others who are hurting, to be there for them, is precisely what led you to become a therapist when you’re not singing at church.

Tuesday morning, your pastor sends out a video message with excellent news. He tells you and the rest of the church members that the offering collected on Sunday not only met their usual numbers but replenished the money that had been stolen. You’re unsure if God encouraged everyone to give a bit more and support His house or if one generous donor knew what had happened. Regardless, the church isn’t in fiscal danger, which is great but not the best part.

“The L.A.P.D. contacted me this morning to inform me that the thieves were apprehended and offered a full confession,” he adds. “In addition, they have recovered everything stolen from the safe and it will be returned to us in due time. Now if that isn’t proof that our God still works miracles, I don’t know what is!”

“I think that was the best run-through we’ve had in weeks!” Jerry applauds. “Not that they’re usually bad, you know.”

“We do,” you promise with a smile. “But, I agree, that was great! We’re back in the sanctuary Sunday, so let’s have a great service and welcome everyone back into church.”

You watch the worship team gather their things and leave, but you look up at the empty cross on the wall. Your Bible is lying with your things, and you squat to pick it up as Jerry exits the audio booth.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah, I’m good. I think I’m just…”

“I understand. You’ve got keys, so take your time. We’re all here if you need us.”

You nod your thanks and wait until he leaves to sit in the front pew. Holding your Bible in your lap, you close your eyes and begin praying. You thank God for everything, including Tim, and you pray for him, too. He’s a big part of your life, even if he doesn’t know how much he’s done for you.

“Can I help you, Officer?” Jerry asks as he exits the church. “Or are you here on personal business?”

Tim is waiting beside his truck, dressed in his patrol uniform. He looks up when Jerry exits, and Jerry hides a smile at Tim’s disappointed look. Most of your church family knows about Tim, and Jerry knows who the officer before him is and what – or who – he’s there for.

“Just waiting for her,” Tim says.

“She’s in the sanctuary; may be a few minutes. You’re welcome to go in if you’d like.”

Tim looks over Jerry’s shoulder to the door and nods. He thanks Jerry and watches him walk away. You’re more at home here than anyone else, yet Tim doesn’t feel as if he’s trespassing when he walks through the front door and navigates to the sanctuary entrance.

The pew dips beside you, and you look up from your Bible quickly and see Tim looking at the stage. He doesn’t speak as he joins you, but his hand is stretched toward you.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Your finger holds your place in the New Testament, the fitting story of Jesus and the “den of thieves.” Tim shakes his head and tells you to take your time. He sits back and closes his eyes. Maybe Tim is praying or giving you the privacy he thinks you need. Either way, you appreciate him and are glad he’s beside you.

“I- thank you for working so hard and catching them,” you begin. “On Sunday, we received enough money from tithing to make up for what was stolen. Between that and the arrest, I should be, I don’t know, jumping for joy or something.”

“But?” Tim presses kindly.

“It reminded me of my past,” you whisper. “And I’ve just been thinking that I can do more- that I should do more.”

“Do more how?”

You look at Tim, and his eyes are already on you. His focus on the here and now is appreciated, but he can’t understand what you mean until you tell him about your past. More than Tim, you can’t do what the Lord is calling you to do without learning to share painful memories.

“I had a really bad childhood; my upbringing, I guess you could say, was rough, Tim. Growing up, I never felt like I belonged or was loved, even in my own house, around people who were supposed to love me and protect me. So, I learned how to look out for myself and provide for myself, but I didn’t always do it right.”

Your eyes drop from Tim’s to look at your Bible instead. Tim keeps his eyes on your face as you speak, and his hand inches closer to your side.

“When those men came in here and demanded to know where the money was… part of why I stayed so calm is because I’ve been that person before. I was behind the gun once and it landed me in juvie at 17. I didn’t know why they charged me as a minor. I didn’t understand anything until I found this.”

You point to your Bible and pause. Tim doesn’t press, though you’re sure he has questions about your previous arrest. Because you went to juvie and were a minor with no prior record, everything was expunged, and most people would never know it happened.

“Someone introduced me to the Bible,” you continue. “I was carrying around so many sins, and they were a burden that never lightened. Initially, I thought it was desperation or boredom, anything other than a need for a Savior. I started reading and it felt like every sentence was written to me specifically. The thief on the cross beside Jesus, the gift of the Holy Spirit, and forgiveness of sins while healing physical infirmities… everything Jesus said and did felt like an invitation. I started praying and I felt that burden start lifting. After I confessed every sin, even the ones no one else knew about, I gave my life to Christ. At that moment, I started praying that God could use me and my past to help others who are hurting.”

You take a deep breath and apologize again. Tim finally moves his hand into yours, and your eyes drift to his.

“That’s what led you to become a therapist? LA’s best grief counselor,” Tim guesses.

You smile and chuckle as you nod.

“You’re good at your job, I’ve always known that. But the fact that you let a situation like that lead you to help others is exceptional. Not many doctors pray for their patients; I’d charge extra for that.”

You push against Tim’s shoulder as your smile grows. “If they’d told me that reading the Bible would lead to having two jobs without facing the price of sin, I wouldn’t have believed them. The worship pastor idea came in later. The day before I was released I read Acts 16. Paul and Silas sing praises in prison, and then there’s an earthquake and the doors are opened. No one leaves, but the jailer sees the doors and prepares to kill himself. Paul and Silas stop him and lead him to repent and be baptized. So, after nights of praying and praising in a cell, I knew I needed to keep doing it.”

Tim has been quiet since the moment he walked in. Though you don’t regret sharing your testimony with him, you begin to worry that he won’t want anything to do with you now. Learning that your girlfriend went to juvie for armed robbery isn’t easy for most people to move on from.

“I understand if you want some time,” you murmur.

Tim’s eyes are still straight ahead. You realize he’s looking at the pulpit in the center of the stage. He squeezes your hand gently, and you take a deep breath. You won't blame him for needing space, but that doesn't mean it won't hurt.

“I had a rough childhood, too. My dad was angry, and he got violent because of that. I actually thought for a while that he killed someone," Tim says.

His voice is rough, but you know why and you're here for him. You lay your other hand over Tim’s and turn to face him. His eyes are still forward, and you understand it can be easier to talk about stuff like this without looking at your audience.

“He was having an affair with a woman who was being abused. She killed her husband and my dad covered for her. That- that moment when he confessed and he seemed like a good man… it went against everything I had ever seen. He was a monster, and everything that I am is despite what my dad did.”

Tim turns toward you, and you see tears gathering in his eyes. It hurts to relive past pains, but your entire life is founded upon a belief that you don’t have to do it alone.

“I don’t want time or space. Your past made you the woman I love, and the strength and love you found during your darkest night… your story is special.”

“I could do more,” you whisper. “I don’t tell enough people.”

“You told me. That’s a start, right?”

You nod and lean your head against Tim’s shoulder. Your Bible folds closed with your movement, and you remember that your unshakeable faith will get you through the hard days to come, and telling your story may allow someone else to see the strength Christ offers.

“You’re amazing,” you say against Tim’s shirt. “Everything that you are, all that you do, shows that your past doesn’t define you.”

Tim turns to kiss your head and wraps an arm around your back.

“Did you come to give me a ride and a hug?” you ask.

“Yes. A ride home and more than one hug.”

[kellartisan]

THE HOLLOW ONES

Case file 001: Mr. Sherlock Holmes, pt.2

John walked alongside Stamford, discussing their college years, on their way to meet John's potential flatmate... They passed by a a few people in the park, bypassers who stopped to listen to a pretty boy busk beside the pathway. John and Stamford stopped for a moment as the strumming of his acoustic guitar and song captivated them.

Stamford dropped a 5 quid in the young man's guitar bag where everyone was dropping their money. The busker gave Stamford a nod as a silent thank you. John wished he could spare some cash but he was low on it himself. He gave the busker a smile that seemed to be enough. The two continued their walk to St. Bart's now, the busker's singing voice and guitar strumming faded away.

——-

John entered the St. Bart's lab, gawking at the new look. He can't help but be amused. "Bit different from my day.." He muttered, feeling nostalgic. He then locked eyes onto a man he didn't recognize. The man was tall, lean with pale skin, short curly locks and calculating sharp blue eyes (or is it green?). The man turned away, back to looking back at a microscope. "Mike, can I borrow your phone? I need to send a text." Stamford sighed. "Sorry mate. Left it in my jacket." John, seeing this opportunity to perhaps make a good impression on his potential flatmate, took out his own mobile. "You can borrow mine." The man turned to him, almost confused by the offer but there was a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He went over and took John's mobile. He began typing on it.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Immediately, John and Stamford were momentarily stunned. Stamford recovered quickly while John was flustered. "U-uhm, sorry.. Pardon?" "Afghanistan or Iraq?" The man asked again as he typed away. "How.. do you know about Afghanistan?" The words slipped out easily from John's tongue, baffled. The man didn't give an answer though. John turned to Stamford. "Did you tell him about me?" His college friend shook his head. "No.."

Before John could ask more questions, he was interrupted by the sound of someone entering the room. A woman walked in holding a mug full of coffee. "Ah, Molly!" The man said with some eagerness as he gave John back his mobile. "Thanks for the coffee.." He took the mug from her, taking a small sip. He glanced at her. "What happened to the lipstick?" "Oh.. It wasn't.. Working for me.." The woman's tone was soft and clearly hesitant. "Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth is too.. Small now." John can't help but feel sorry for the woman as she muttered a soft "okay.." before walking away.

John snapped out of it, he needed to know, how did this mysterious pale and handso- Uhm- calculating man know about Afghanistan? Before the doctor could open his mouth, the man cut him off (rude). “Gotta dash. I’ve been eyeing a nice flat near here. The landlady owes me. Good for your pension.” John was stunned once more. “I-.. no one said anything about flatmates or my army pension..?” The man gave a subtle smirk again. “Well, I just spoke with Stamford today that no one could possibly want to live with me.. and yet, he came here, a few hours later with a college friend.” The man took his coat and scarf swiftly. John was, well, again, stunned and confused. He decided to add a hint of assertiveness to his tone now. “So that’s it? We’re gonna look at the flat?” That seemed to get the man’s attention. “Problem?” John can’t help but scoff with a hint of amusement. “We just met, I don’t know where we’re meeting and I don’t even know your name.” His tone sounded more demanding now. The man was already at the door, smirking. “I know you’re an army doctor, discharged from Afghanistan. Your limp is psychosomatic so you have a therapist and PTSD, little souvenirs from your time in the army. You’re desperate to find a flatmate because your army pension isn’t enough to cover the pricey civilian London life so you need a flatmate to split the rent.”

Everyone was silent as the man spoke. John, was immediately captivated by his words, confused but hanging onto every one. This man was definitely different from the rest. The man was about to leave when John stopped him. “Your name?” The man poked his head out of the door. “The names Sherlock Holmes.. and the adress is 221B Bakerstreet.” Sherlock gave a wink before leaving. John, can’t help but feel awestruck, his curiosity wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to know how Sherlock knew about his situation and how he did that.. so fast..

———-

That night, back in the dingy small flat of Barrymore’s, John was typing about the strange bloke he met earlier in the day in his blog. At least his therapist would be happy to know he was writing something different. Once he finished, he looked up the name, Sherlock Holmes in the browser. He was surprised when the man had his own website called ‘The Science of Deductions’. It detailed deeply on the different types of ash, how to tell an office man by his tie and how to identify a pilot by the left thumb.. John was impressed and read the website thoroughly, oddly enjoying its content… Sherlock Holmes.. What a peculiar bloke..

~Written by K.P

Note: Tysm for the support so far on the last chapter! Wasn’t expecting any exposure ngl. I’ll try my best to write a chapter every two days. ^^

Tags: @helloliriels

[steddio]

steddie vegas au part 2

part 1

--

Eddie throws open the delightfully ridiculous double doors separating his hotel suite’s foyer from the main living area. “Honey, I’m home!” he hollers, cackling when he hears Chrissy scream. 

She storms out of her bedroom, scowling at him. “Jesus, Eddie you scared me! I thought you were napping, where did you go?” He can’t help but feel a little guilty at that, hearing the worry underneath her anger. As his manager, and his best friend, worrying is kind of her job. And Eddie doesn’t exactly make it easy. He grabs her by the waist, spins her about the room, ignoring her protests until they turn into laughter.

“I was just down in the lobby,” he tells her a little sheepishly. “I wanted to stretch my legs, look around our new digs.” He can see her eyebrows raise, and adds, “And no, before you say anything, I did not go near the bar.” 

Before Chrissy can feel guilty about her unspoken assumption, he barrels on, “the concierge gave me this list of AA meetings.” He brandishes the paper at her proudly.

“Is this one tonight,” she asks, smiling softly at him. “The highlighted one?”

He grins. “Yep. Steve highlighted it for me.”

“Steve?” Chrissy looks confused. “Oh! Is that the hot concierge you were staring at when we checked in? Is that why you went down to the lobby alone? Jesus, Eddie, you can’t hit on the hotel staff while they’re working.”  

He grabs the paper back from her. “I didn’t!” At her raised eyebrows he concedes, “Okay, I did flirt a little. But only a little! He was really sweet though, he offered to walk me to the meeting.” 

Chrissy just rolls her eyes and hands him the paper. He takes his time folding it, putting it in the back pocket of his jeans, feeling her eyes on him. Eddie knows what her weighted gaze means. She looks at him like she’s constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s why they’re in Vegas. Because that shoe did drop, two months ago. But he’s turning over a new leaf. This is going to be his year! 

He must have gotten lost in thought because he startles when Chrissy touches his arm. “I’m glad you’re going to meetings again, Didi,” she tells him. The old nickname tugs at his heart, and he’s so overwhelmingly grateful for her. He pulls her into a hug, burying his face in her hair. 

“Me, too,” he tells her. They stand like that for a long moment before she pulls away, wiping at her eyes. “Enough of that mushy stuff,” she says brusquely. “We’re scheduled for a venue tour at 5:30 and then I want to try that noodle place.”

–

The venue is… a venue. Eddie can’t complain, because it’s a good gig, even if a residency at Caesars Palace isn’t exactly metal. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s looking forward to the stability. To having a routine. Performing on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Meeting with his therapist Sharon on the days in between. Attending daily AA meetings. Hanging out with Chrissy and playing D&D with the guys. Catching up on all the movies and TV he missed over years of non-stop touring. Being on the road lost its appeal after their last tour and the fallout, his wanderlust having transformed into a sort of homesickness, sunk deep into his ribs.

He steals one of Chrissy’s dumplings, and shovels it whole in his mouth, shrugging when she glares at him. The food is delicious, a major point in Vegas’s favor. But he can barely enjoy it. His heart is thrumming in anticipation for tonight. Not for the meeting; once you’ve been to one you’ve been to them all, and Eddie has been a regular fixture at AA for the last decade. But to see Steve again. 

Eddie knows it’s reckless of him to succumb to that part of himself that just won’t leave things alone. That has to push and push and push to see who or what will break first. But he wants to get inside Steve’s skin, to further crack that professional facade and see what’s underneath. The glimpses he’d gotten–when Steve was on the phone, and when he’d blushed oh so prettily at just the slightest bit of flirting–left him intrigued, edging what he started as harmless flirting into the possibility for something… more. Something real. Something different from nameless groupies and wannabe-influencers. 

Steve hadn’t even recognized him! Eddie can’t remember the last time someone had asked him his name. And sure, he knows it’s bad form to flirt with people at work, but he technically works at the hotel too. Hell, he needs something to occupy his time for the next six months or he’s going to go stir crazy. And he’s a sucker for All-American-looking men who he could absolutely ruin. Or let ruin him, he’s flexible.

He and Chrissy wrap up their meal in the comfortable silence of old friends. Eddie is beyond grateful for this modicum of domesticity within his very non-traditional lifestyle. He flags the waiter down for the bill, signing it to his room with a flourish. Gets up and takes Chrissy’s hand, kissing the back of it with a bow and a wink, and saunters back to the lobby. 

–

Steve is hiding behind the concierge desk, crouched down near the floor so nobody can see him almost losing it over pictures of his baby girl all grown up and going to homecoming. Nancy had sent him the photos, most of which depict a disgruntled Max and an overjoyed Lucas, but there’s one that’s blurry and candid that catches Max looking over her shoulder as she follows Lucas out the front door, hand raised in a wave, grinning on the cusp of laughter. It sends a pang through Steve’s heart, equal parts fondness and regret that he’s so far away. He knows it’s better this way, that he needed to leave Indiana and its small-mindedness, the ugly rumors that just wouldn’t stop circulating. But he misses her. Misses them both.

He’s startled back into reality by the godforsaken bell on his desk, which someone is pummeling like an Xbox controller. He smooths his hair back and does his best to stand gracefully and not at all like someone who was hiding on the floor. 

“Hello, how can I - oh. It’s you.” Mr. Munson, no, Eddie, is leaning on the counter twirling a strand of hair in his fingers looking absolutely delighted to have caught Steve off guard. 

Steve recovers quickly. “Hello, sir, are you ready to go?” His stomach swoops at that, and he tries to ignore it. Calling men sir is perfectly innocuous, it’s his job. 

Eddie’s grin turns almost predatory. “Sure thing, Steve-o. Lead the way.”

Steve grabs his keys and pulls his jacket on, puts the “Be right back” sign on the concierge desk, and steps out next to Eddie. They walk together to the front entrance, Steve pausing to fist bump Argyle the doorman, who not-so-subtly waggles his eyebrows at Steve and Eddie together. Steve pointedly glances at the retreating figure of the bellhop Jonathan and Steve knows he’s won this silent battle of wills as Argyle blushes and nods. He gives him a thumbs up and then steps out into the brisk evening air. 

Leaving the air-conditioned and perfumed artificiality of the casino lobby is Steve’s favorite part of the day. The Las Vegas Strip may be smoggy and congested and honestly kind of gross, but outside is always better than inside in Steve’s opinion. He takes a deep breath before walking down the sidewalk. It takes a moment before he realizes that Eddie is not, in fact, walking beside him, but has stopped several paces back and is staring, brow furrowed, at a huge billboard outside the casino.

Steve walks back toward him until he can see what has Eddie looking so disgruntled. There, filling up almost the entire billboard, is an enormous photo of Eddie. Wearing eyeliner and leather and gripping a microphone with ringed fingers, eyes half-lidded and mouth parted. He looks larger than life, dripping sex appeal. Above him in bold letters reads, “Corroded Coffin, with Eddie Munson, October 1 - April 30, Caesars Palace.” 

Steve feels his jaw drop. “Holy shit. Is that you?”

Eddie looks almost sad for a moment, before he runs a hand through his hair and puts on his signature smirk. “Sure is, sugar. Your resident musical guest for the next six months, at your service.” He accompanies this last part with a mocking bow. 

Steve does what he always does when he’s out of his element: falls back into professionalism. “My deepest apologies, Mr. Munson, I should have recognized you earlier.” He feels doubly awkward now for his over-familiarity in offering to walk Eddie to the AA meeting. Surely a rockstar doesn’t need some dorky dad hovering over him all evening.

Eddie frowns at the formality. “Please, it’s just Eddie.” Strangely serious, he adds, “shall we continue? I don’t want to be late.” He strides away, and Steve has no choice but to hurry after him.

Once he catches up, Steve feels somewhat chastised for his moment of panic. After all, if Eddie is in residency through April, they might end up seeing a lot of each other, and it’s in both of their best interests to be on good terms. 

“So, welcome to Vegas, then,” Steve offers with a small smile, which Eddie returns, mood immediately lifting. 

“Thanks, man. I mean, I’ve been here before, what self-respecting musician hasn’t, but this is the first time I’ll be playing in one place for so long. It was Chrissy’s idea, Chrissy’s my manager, but I think she was onto something because this hotel is super cool and I’ve heard Vegas has a good vibe, and honestly I’m kind of excited to not be on tour for a while, and oh fuck. I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Steve is torn between genuine interest and amusement. He feels like he could listen to Eddie talk for hours, watching him gesture wildly, face expressive. 

“Vegas does have a good vibe,” Steve admits. “If you can get past the whole Vegas-ness of it.” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Vegas-ness?”

Steve tries to explain. “Well, when most people think of Vegas they think of the strip. But there’s a lot more here. There’s great food, an arts scene, and really great hiking and mountain biking.”

Eddie’s nose scrunches at hiking. “I knew you’d be the outdoorsy type, Steve-o, with shoulders like that.” 

Steve tries and fails not to blush, instead motioning that they should turn at the end of the block. They walk a few more blocks in silence before Eddie reaches out and grabs his arm. Steve turns to him, and waits patiently while Eddie seems to struggle for words.

“Thank you,” he says softly. “For walking with me. But, I’d appreciate it if, well…” He trails off.

Steve does his best to reassure him. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me, sir. Concierge, remember? We value our guests’ privacy.” This seems to land wrong, and Steve can’t quite figure out what he said, but Eddie nods quickly, and keeps walking. 

They make it to the church and pause on the sidewalk for a moment. Steve breaks the silence first. “Will you be able to find your way back?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at him. “I think I’ll manage.” Steve wants so badly to reach out and touch Eddie’s arm, to tell him that he would keep Eddie’s secret even if it wasn’t his job, that he feels honored by the trust, but he holds back, unsure of whether that would make the new awkwardness between them better or worse. 

Eddie salutes him with a wink and disappears into the church. Steve walks back to Caesars slowly, pondering everything he’s learned. He feels like he’s been put through the tumble dryer, thrown right and left and up and down by Eddie’s mercurial moods. He tries to shake it off, to finish his shift, but as he drives home after work he finds himself replaying their conversations, and as he lays in bed trying to fall asleep, he can’t stop thinking about Eddie calling him sugar. 

–

The AA meeting runs like any other. Eddie is distracted, but he participates when it’s his turn, drinks the shitty coffee, shakes the hand of a few guys who recognize him. He makes his way back to the hotel where Chrissy is waiting up for him, curled in an armchair reading. 

“How did it go?” she asks. And he knows she’s not just asking him about the meeting, but about all of it. Being in a new place, his flirting with Steve.

“I saw the billboard,” he tells her. “So did Steve.”

“Eddie, we talked about this, the casino is in charge of marketing. What did you expect?” 

He can tell she’s exasperated, but he’s spiraling slightly. “I just–. He didn’t recognize me, Chrissy! Do you know how rare that is? He asked me what my name was.” Chrissy already has that patented sympathetic look on her face, but he keeps going. “For a grand total of four hours, I was just another hotel guest. I was Eddie, even. But now I’m back to Mr. Munson, to sir,” he sneers, “and not even in the fun way!” 

Chrissy is biting back a smile, but she gets up and wraps him in a hug. “You’re still Eddie,” she hushes. “Give it time to settle, people are always a little starstruck at first. Plus this is what happens when you flirt with people at work. They’re, you know, working.”

Eddie pulls away and snaps his fingers. “That’s it!” He’s already formulating a plan. A campaign, if you will. “I just have to change his mindset. Get him to think of me as a coworker and not a guest.” 

Chrissy opens her mouth as if to respond, but Eddie puts his index finger over her lips to shush her. “It will work,” he grins. “This will be fun. Chrissy, you saw how cute he is! Let me have this.” 

And suddenly it’s serious between them. “I think I need this.” 

She grabs his wrist gently, pulls his hand away from her mouth and pats the back of it, an unspoken agreement. God, he really needs this.

--

continue to part 3.

read on ao3.

--

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[lawnchairthethird]

I’m gonna give yall a quick glimpse into my trip to visit my family. And then I’m going to go home and find a therapist. Holy shit.

-me, husband, two dogs drive 9 hours to visit my parents. We don’t visit a lot because the drive/bringing dogs vs finding financial means to get dog care. My dog is seriously epileptic and cannot be left alone for any length of time.

-my parents live in RURAL America. It’s honestly a little scary here. I lived here for a bit in high school but the house was in town. Now they live an acres of land off a dirt road. It’s actually beautiful except they haven’t maintained anything and their gorgeous house is gross and the driveway is literally like crumbling away.

- the reason we decided to visit is my stepdad has cancer. He was in remission, but it’s really likely it’s back and if it is it’s terminal. He’s been in my life since I was 8 but the relationship is really complicated.

-there’s an actual stockpile of guns and ammo in the basement that makes me extremely uncomfortable.

-my mom is…idk I don’t have words. She texts me that ever since they moved here everything has gone wrong. Three of their pets died (they were all extremely old, but it just kept happening one after the other). But she thinks there’s a demon in the house. She sent me pictures of her covered in blood and she keeps “falling” and crashing cars. Idk if she’s on drugs (meth, heroin, and fentanyl are HUGE problems in this town). Idk if my stepdad is beating her. But her legs broken because she ran it over with her car because “the car shifted itself out of park?) she refused to go to the doctor for a month, worked on it, finally got a cast and then she was literally in the bathroom sawing at it with a dremel to ‘make it easier to walk on’

-we were suppose to sleep in the basement which was always nice and had a huge tv and air mattress. Welp- my younger brother turned it into a teenage boy sex den. It’s GROSS. Air mattress is popped. We tried to sleep on the couch, but I think it’s moldy in the basement and made me have trouble breathing.

- my sister is home visiting too (she’s in college/military). She’s just drinking herself stupid to deal with it.

-and to top it off, my dog is being a huge asshole to their dog who is the sweetest.

-my husband and I are going to visit his parents who live one town over. They’re Trump supporting “Christians”

-we’re too tired to safely drive home today, but holy fuck.

-both my parents have tried to convince me my stomach problems are cancer 🙃🙃🙃

-there’s not a single clean towel.

So yeah that’s my trauma. Sorry for super over sharing but I feel so stuck and literally have no escape for like two days. Hopefully one if we leave tomorrow and drive overnight.

[faceless-mirror]

In a world where vampires are actively trying to fit in with humans, coexist safely and help each other, Vinny and his ESV(Emotional Support Vampire), Ricky, are getting to know each other and learning more and more. Adapting to the life in the contract they both signed, and are living with. As they do they border the line between Friends.... and Lovers.

Tags: @cookiesupplier @phxntxsmicgoricxl

Chapter 1: A Desperate Plea

Vinny was hot. Overheating but he needed to wear his hoodies. Ever since the accident he was in… the one that took the life of his best friend… He couldn’t manage his anxiety without it. His hair was a mess, and here he was in public. The ride here had been awful. He kept to the back streets, and keeping a bit below the speed limit. He rubbed his face. He was so exhausted. He was finally being assigned an ESV. It had taken so long to get to this point. Months of waiting to hear about emotional vampires that were available and looking to help. Apparently, one had just refreshed their application and it was a match.

When his name was called he stood up quickly rushing to the door, following the therapist he knew so well by now. “Is- is there anything i should know-?” he asked following her closely with wide eyes as he tripped up a bit in surprise when she shook her head. “Let’s get you into the room and meeting him. He’s worked with us for years his last contract ended rather poorly but that’s because of differences. You’re also looking for a job correct?” “Well yes- but I don’t see how that’s relevant-” Vinny insisted as she opened the door ushering him in, his eyes still focused on her as he slipped in. As soon as he was in he sat down and looked up.

His eyes widened seeing Ricky Olson- leaned back in a chair, ankle crossed over his knee dressed in leather and a t-shirt, tight black jeans- He wasn’t dwelling on that right now. His hair was draped over his shoulder as he smiled at the anxiety ridden mess of a man. “You must be Vincenzo.” he said simply, standing gracefully and held out a hand. “Richard Olson- You can call me Ricky.” His voice was like butter, warm and soaked in easing his tension as he shook his hand. Vinny was suddenly and sharply aware  that he himself looked like he crawled out of a gutter. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ye…yeah. Like….likewise-” he got out almost choking on his tongue as he swallowed his anxiety trying to instinctively shove it down.

“Mind if I help?” the guitarist asked still holding his hand. “Just to help.”

Vinny merely nodded and gasped at the relief of his anxiety as Ricky’s grey blue eyes turned a vibrant ocean blue as he drank down some of his anxiety. His breathing steadied out as he looked at him in relief. Like a gothic angel coming to grace his life so fully.

“Thanks.” He whispered weakly, as he sat back as Ricky sat back down.

“Now that the introductions have been made… Ricky, you already had a chance to glance over Vinny’s history, censored of course. Your band is currently looking for a drummer, correct?”  she asked, pulling out the contract. 

“Yes we are. We’re looking for a drummer since my last contract left the band. I saw some of Vinny’s drumming videos that were submitted as well. I’ve talked to our vocalist and he’s fine with giving Vinny a chance.”

Normally his head would be swimming with violent anxiety, choking him and his thoughts fully out to the point he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. 

Yet here he was functioning. Fully. 

“If Vinny would like to take it at least.”

Vinny took a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah. I can… I can do it.” he announced making his therapist raise her brow but smiled handing over the contracts. 

“This is a temporary contract showing that you, Ricky, will only take the amount of anxiety and stress needed to keep Vinny healthy and any other emotions that may cause him harm like Depression, sorrow and anger. However, in the event you cannot you are also willing to do what’s needed to help support him through those emotions. Vinny. Your contract is explaining you will work with Motionless in White temporarily until you are either officially offered the position and that you will not disclose the fact Richard Olson is an emotional vampire unless he deems it okay.” she explained going more indepth and answering questions as they both read through.

Vinny signed first, understanding all the details faster considering his contract was shorter, breathing a sigh of relief. Green brown eyes shifted to look over the vampire who was reading everything, noting down all Vinny’s tells. He’s done this before, so many times it seems. 

He knew Motionless In White. He loved them. Practiced to them alot. He would have never guessed that Ricky was an ESV. He watched as Ricky signed the documents and handed them back.

“All right. I will go get these filed. You guys are good to go. You should both probably get to know each other.” She commented with a warm smile, seeming to know that Vinny and Ricky were going to end up closer than what they intended. That’s what happened with Ricky and Chris. Who knew how long it would go this time…

Vinny stood up running his fingers through his long curls, swallowing, “...do… you wanna go get coffee?” 

Ricky chuckled, “Sure. I’m buying. But let’s get to your place and get you in shape before you meet the guys.”

The guys.

Right. Job. He was getting a job and an ESV.