#but also maybe together with me (the media in question) just reminds me a ridiculous amount of a 2008-ish german soap

[itwoodbeprefect]

sometimes a piece of queer media is very obviously cheap and also bad and outdated in ways that aren't even particularly interesting, but it's just so obviously from The Before Times that it's painfully difficult not to be charmed by it anyway

[finelinevogue]

Hi can you write wondering about Harry proposing! Do you think it would be angsty like Harry is being all secretive and detached until the reader confronts him and he tells the truth or do you think it would be complete fluff or maybe he proposes during sex?? I have no idea. You’re just a great writer so I know you can do it.

ok i actually have a cute idea for this so if you’re a tea lover stick with it ;)

You were a tea addict.

Green, lemon, breakfast, Yorkshire, PG Tips; you name it and you had an addiction for it. It was your can’t-live-without drink.

You’d always have a cup of Yorkshire tea in the morning to start to the day, which was often brought up to you via your loving boyfriend Harry - who was up earlier than always necessary - and then you’d have green tea in the afternoon, and finally you’d have another tea in the evening to send you sleep. It was an addiction, maybe… You loved it so much though and were ridiculously grouchy without it.

It was known that you liked it so much to the point where that’s what people would buy you for your birthday. Tea sets or mugs or spoons or pots. In fact, you got a tea tasting afternoon as a gift once and it was the most wonderful day because it was filled with your two favourite things - tea and Harry. Harry had then took you out for another afternoon to a Paint-A-Pot shop, where you got to paint an item of your choice. You both chose to paint individual tea mugs and then also painted a tea pot together. It was the best date activity he’d ever come up with. He was in love with the worlds biggest tea addict and he knew it.

In fact, he was so in tune with the fact you loved tea that he was walking into the room right now with your steaming hot mug of Yorkshire tea.

“Good morning gorgeous.” Harry smiled when he saw your eyes faintly open, watching him cross your bedroom. The covers were up to your nose and your hair was definitely a mess, but he didn’t quite with the compliments.

He had a cup of tea for him, too, in his hands, because you’d managed to get him hooked.

“Hello handsome.” You chuckled, sitting up in bed, bringing the duvet up with you to cover your bare chest and taking the cup from his hands. “Thank you.”

“How are you feeling today?”

Harry clambered into bed next to you, laying his body on top of the covers. He was only in his boxers and a necklace - a necklace in which you had made for him when you were bored one weekend. He had made you a bracelet and you had made him a necklace. It was made out of an array of rainbow beads and a little extra pearl bead that had your first initial engraved into it.

“Tired.”

“I’m not surprised after last night.”

“You didn’t have to be so rough.” You took your first sip from your tea, loving that first burn onto your lips and tongue from the hot water.

“Wait, baby, was I really that rough?” Harry asked quickly, putting down his mug on the table to give you his undivided attention. He turned on his side, and you used one of your free hands to play with the necklace you’d gifted him.

“No,” you spoke softly, “no, you were perfect.” You pulled him in by his necklace to give him a kiss, it tasting like mint and tea.

“I love you.” He whispered against his lips, and giving him a few extra pecks to affirm that you felt the same way.

Harry moved away to pick up his tea, and his phone to check his daily notifications. He’d turned off all his social media notifications so he didn’t have to worry about them, but he did turn on all notifications for you on those apps. He hated to miss when you posted something. He would always pride himself on being the first like and the first comment. He loved that it was usually him that had taken the photos or him that had made you laugh in that particular photo. His notifications normally consisted of work messages from Jeff or messages from his mum reminding him to wish a family member ‘happy birthday’.

“Anything important today?” You always asked him this question, in case it affected you or Harry just needed someone to talk to about a certain issue. You took a few more sips as he began talking.

“Mum’s just bought a new cat and sent me about 30 photos of them! My grandad’s sent me my joke of the day and Jeff’s sent me some information I need to read over for tour.”

“A new cat ooh show me the photos!”

“I’ll send them to you.”

You smiled so brightly when the photos came through, drinking the rest of your tea so that you could spend your time looking at the newest addition to the Styles’ family.

But you couldn’t.

“Harry…”

“Yes my love?” He asked, with a smirk to his face.

“Wha—”

“Hmm?”

You blinked back the tears in your eyes, making sure you were reading the bottom of your mug right, lips parted slightly from shock.

“You...”

“Mhm?” He prompted you.

“Yes.” You answered. “Yes, yes, fucking yes!”

“Yes?” Harry laughed in shock, putting his stuff on the side of the table, as did you, in preparation for you leaping on him. You landed with a grunt from him and wasted no time planting your lips on his. You deepened your kiss with him, pushing your lips and your whole body into him. Your hips grounded down, making him grunt in sexual frustration. “Wait, wait.”

He stopped you both and reached over to the drawer, making you pout from being without his warmth. He pulled out a royal blue velvet box and opened it up in front of you, making you gasp in awe. It was the most perfect ring you’d seen. It was simple and beautiful. You couldn’t get over how he’d chosen so perfectly.

“Harry it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah I thought so too.” He smiled, reaching for your left hand to slide it onto your ring finger. “Sits beautifully there too.”

You couldn’t waste a second more to not have his lips on yours, so you you dove down and captured his plump lips to yours. You could feel the love bursting from his cherry lips, filling you up and making you fee so warm.

“When did you do all this?” You asked breathlessly, taking a moment away from his lips and kissing down his jaw and neck.

“Went back to that paint a pot thing, didn’t I? I had the idea the other day to combine tea and me for the proposal and this was the best way to do it! Was it alright? I can do it again if—”

You cut him off with your lips before he said something he didn’t mean. “It was perfect.” Your tears were trickling down your face in patterns.

“You are perfect, future Mrs Styles.”

“I’ve always been future Mrs Styles.” You cockily added to the moment, making him chuckle into a stretch.

“And now you have a ring to prove it.”

[thejustmaiden]

So out of nowhere I was tagged and quoted by a SR shipper for a blog of mine posted in August of last year. Talk about throwback but, hey, gotta appreciate that level of snooping. 😉

Back in the day I actually used to encourage discourse amongst Inuyasha fans- both shippers and antis alike- but I've since realized that it's a lost cause. But for you, @feministmetalgreymon , I'll grant this exception. Just 'cause it's been a while so why the hell not. haha

I want to assure you, however, that nothing you say will ever convince me that Sesshomaru and Rin are meant to be together romantically or that the story intended it so. Nor will you find any validation here. You can ship them for all I care, but please for all that is good and holy while I have your attention try- I mean really try- to understand why it is so many of us Inuyasha fans are so against this pairing in the first place (newsflash: it's not about ship wars), and why we believe a romance between the two of them is completely and utterly out of character.

For those of you interested in reading this, the blog of mine in question that the above shipper mentions in their counter-argument is here for reference. It's titled "Jaken = Rin's Dad?" I'm going to try and keep this short, but I'm also making no such promises. After all, I'm not exactly known for my brevity. haha Now let's get crackin'!

Like you, feministmetalgreymon, did for your recent blog here where you took screenshots of mine to address certain parts, I will be doing the same and dissecting yours accordingly.

[Snippet 1]

I worked with kids for many years as a teacher, and many people in my family have too or still do. Two of them happen to be just over 5 feet which is quite short for the average adult woman living here. I've also worked alongside many a women of short stature, and never did I hear any of them complaining of issues with their students having difficulty differentiating them from their own peers just because they were short as well. I'm sorry but that's just ridiculous. Kids are quite smart and pick up on a lot more than you seem to give them credit for. Height is not the only characteristic they look at to determine who's an adult and who's not, and it's foolish to suggest otherwise. So unless you're a babysitter who's still in their teens and/or who has very childlike features or behavior then I'm afraid what you're getting at is total hogwash. This is just another example of how you shippers offer nothing of real substance to your reasoning, it's only ever cherry-picking or strawmanning from you guys. Stop deflecting from the real issues please, because this certainly isn't one and only winds up being a complete waste of time for all parties involved.

[Snippet 2]

Okay, calm down now. I wasn't insinuating that relationships between parents and children can't change over time in terms of how they get along. Of course that's possible, as all families experience their fair share of estrangement and abuse. What I was speaking about was in reference to the overall dynamic between the two. Because a bad mother or father can still be viewed as a parental figure to their child even if say they're not in said child's life anymore. Since Sesshomaru and Rin share a healthy bond- and just a friendly reminder that in my blog I even said that he doesn't have to necessarily be labeled her father but that a romantic relationship later would still be inappropriate- I didn't deem it necessary to address what you brought up. Plus, it kinda, umm, misses the point?? Please, let's stay on topic. And it's not captured in the screenshot, but stop acting like there isn't a small part of them that idolizes their parents at some point during childhood. Just like you mention later on how it's normal for kids to have innocent crushes on adults that they eventually grow out of? Well, guess what, the same concept applies here. Kids eventually learn that their parents are far from perfect and make mistakes too. Rin is so damn young in the OG series though that we never even get to see her reach that maturity level.

[Snippet 3]

LOL! Alright, okay, so the "unbreakable bond" bit you're mentioning was actually me quoting you sessrinners. Did you not catch that? I literally spelled it out. *sigh* The whole point I was making is that shippers like yourself make hypocritical and contradictory statements all.the.goddamn.time. One moment you guys claim that Sesshomaru and Rin were essentially strangers and meant very little to each other, only to say in the same breath a few seconds later that they were destined to be together and their bond is like no other. I agree, their bond is special, but why must that mean they're going to fall in love?

That is the root of the matter here. Too many animes/mangas have romanticized this older adult man & young girl growing up falling in love trope that it's become way too normalized and widely accepted across the world- and yes, in some cultures more than others. Sadly, you lack the awareness to recognize how this all works. You know how we know that? When we see that you shippers are so desensitized to sexualized images of girls in the media that you share posts like this one below which *subtly* imply a future romance although one half of that pairing is still just a child in the pic and then try and pass it off as cute. That's like super fucking problematic and it scares me that you can't see that (or deny you do). 🤢

After all that's said and done, Sesshomaru leaving Rin in the village with Kaede is to me the strongest indicator more than pretty much anything else he's done for Rin that proves he is her adoptive father. It's so funny to me how you somehow see the exact opposite though. 🤔 What I think is happening is that you got yourself on some squeaky clean ass shipper goggles fresh out of your little echo chamber. Because I hate to tell you, but what you're fantasizing is what you want to see and not what's actually there on screen or was written into the story. I'm strictly talking about Inuyasha and the manga of course. [For the TL; DR version skip to the last paragraph.]

Parents looking after their kids is what parents are supposed to do. A good parent will do anything to keep their child safe and ensure they are cared for, so what he did for her by leaving her there was in her best interests clearly. Besides, as a babysitter, you more than most people should understand that parents aren't always able to be there for their kids so sometimes others gotta step in to help. Haven't you heard of the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child?" Which in Rin's case is literally true! 😂 Sometimes kids are even sent off to stay with grandparents and that's who raises them instead. Or maybe they have to temporarily live with an aunt or uncle because their single parent's job requires they work out of town 4-5 days of the week so they're hardly home. But that doesn't mean that the parents care or love their kids any less, and it's foolish to assume that Sesshomaru must have thought very little of Rin simply due to the fact that he made the decision to leave her in the village. Come on, y'all are acting like he abandoned her there!!

It's just given the circumstances Sesshomaru finally came to learn that Rin traveling with him was no longer safe. I also like to think it's because he wished for her to live a more normal life and to learn how to fully trust humans again. Plus, continuing to travel with him as young as she was would have proven dangerous and unwise. Now for you to know all this and still manage to turn his past actions towards her while she was just a child into a romantic gesture is what boggles my mind. Regardless of how you look at it, from my perspective or your own, Sesshomaru is in the wrong. Either he's a father figure who impregnates his daughter at the young age of approximately 14. OR he's this man she used to travel with who maybe isn't a father to her but who nonetheless basically rapes her since kids her age can't consent to sex with an adult. Idk about you but it sounds to me like nobody here wins with either scenario we're given. In other words, you should be just as mad as we are. If only one side didn't choose to forsake their morals they know we both have in common for the sake of a ship. Welp. 🤷‍♀️

I agree, incest is disgusting but that's not the only problem we have with this pairing. A romantic bond forming between Sesshomaru and Rin would also constitute as grooming.

You realize that over the years he visited her in the village that he brought her gifts too and essentially watched her grow up right before his very eyes, right? I mean, I know you do, but I really shouldn't have to explain further why pursuing a romantic/sexual relationship with each other is plain and simple wrong. And before you say it's not because he didn't have any malintent, please understand that considering their history and power dynamic up to then that yes this is still considered grooming even if Rin supposedly "wanted it" or "made the first move." Whether you consider him her father or not, as the adult who took on a role resembling that of a caretaker in her early life- a critical developmental time for a child- Sesshomaru is obligated to turn down any advances by Rin and most definitely should not initiate any himself. As the first close adult figure she's had in her life since her parents died, it's unfathomable to imagine how Sesshomaru could go through with taking advantage of this young girl who was under his care and supervision since they met. To think he could be capable of betraying that trust sickens me to the core.

This. Now THIS is how a parent/guardian or a similar adult caretaker (babysitter, teacher, etc.) talks to a child. And, in turn, this is how some young children talk to adults. You'd be insane and delusional to deny it! We see it in our everyday lives, do we not? From where else do you think our stories draw most of their inspiration? Yes, obviously these fictional universes have aspects of fantasy that don't exist in the real world, but so how then do you suppose we're able to relate to them? The reason for that being is because these stories are written by people for people, so naturally there are going to be real life aspects embedded throughout. Sure, a little escapism doesn't hurt as we don't need to take everything so seriously, but ultimately we all need to recognize that the messages in the stories we tell matter. Most stories possess a combination of both light and dark themes, but when it specifically comes to the latter we gotta be careful with how we tackle this in children's media since kids are far more impressionable.

So if at the center of a story we have two of the main protagonists whose mom is basically their same age and to top it off she knew their dad when she was just a girl and who just so happened to help raise her, wouldn't you say that's beyond fucked up or at the very least so fucking weird? Like why would we think it's even remotely okay for our children to watch this garbage?? Really think about it. Try and be objective for once and think about how it would sound explaining this storyline to an outsider who's never watched IY or HNY. Well, antis have tried this before many times and we always get the same reaction: Ewww!

Like I said earlier, if you wanna ship it then fine, but 1) please stop seeking our approval or trying to change our minds - your ship wish came true didn't it, so why do you need us to validate it? 2) even though it's not canon, respect that we don't support this sequel portraying pedophilia in a positive light. It's harmful af to not only allow but glorify the continuation of sexualized images of young girls everywhere. And I shouldn't have to say this, but just because this trope is popular as you say does not make it right. Lolicon themes in the media have been an issue forever and it needs to stop. Yes, even some people in Japan or "the East" would agree. Shocker!

We're pissed off and rightfully so because Yashahime's TV rating is 14, not to mention it airs at the prime time kids in Japan watch TV after getting home from school. That's Towa and Setsuna's age, true, but if Rin being the mom when she's like only a year older than them (please don't argue w/ me about the math- antis have so far been right every time with it) is straight-up disgusting and not something we should be supporting or endorsing. Rin's a whole ass child!! Please don't start with the "but times were different then so her having kids at 15 is acceptable" argument either, because we've already debunked that and every other single excuse you guys throw at us. Besides, how or why would you expect young viewers to know these historical "facts" anyway, especially if as you suggest fiction doesn't affect reality so what does it matter? Yet here we are, arguing over a fictional show in real life almost a year and a half into the "Sesshomaru fucks?" sequel being announced. My ass, your ass, hell all our asses fiction doesn't affect reality!

Look, I do apologize if the tone of this blog came off as snippy or condescending at times. I do not wish you any ill will, it's just I'm not really sure what you expected to get out of all this besides maybe getting on my nerves perhaps. haha A lot of you shippers have been desperately scrambling to interact with us, lurking in our tags, jumping onto our posts screaming canon and getting so defensive even though you sought us out first. We've been sticking to our tags, so how about you stay in your lane too. By the way since we're on the topic, have you seen Twitter or Reddit?! SR shippers there are the actual worst and many Inuyasha fans (not just antis) have complained of not feeling welcomed to engage in fandom spaces anymore. Shippers swarm them and scare them off simply because fans don't like your ship and refuse to accept it. It's pathetic, really. No one should ever be bullied or harassed just because they don't like something you might. We're all fans of Inuyasha, aren't we? So let's act like it. Yashahime on the other hand, you guys are welcome to that pungent heap of trash. Fans have a right to criticize it too, but if you like it then good for you, so keep on liking it and don't mind us.

I'm almost done, but real quick back to Jaken! Let's not forget about how the official Yashahime website- which came out after my blog, mind you- described Jaken. This translation isn't the best one available but it's the only version a fellow anti friend could track down. They do recall a better one done by a native Japanese speaker who was also an anti, and that member confirmed that Jaken is indeed called Rin's babysitter. So you see, I was right in my interpretation. In the original post I did compare Jaken to a brother, but after talking to others (some comments can be found under said post) I did acknowledge that he's more of a reluctant babysitter who's not related. And if he's not at least a brother to Rin, then he's definitely not her father.

At the end of the day, the creator Rumiko Takahashi has the final word. Which is guess what? Hogosha. 💖 Probably should've just started out with that and saved us all the trouble, huh? Good day/night to you.

Papamaru bids you adieu now. 🤞

[ladyartemesia]

Yooo your love story straight out seems like an e2l slow burn tumblr fic. Do you have any plans using at as a plot?? I would def read it 👀

I don’t know if I would truly call it enemies-to-lovers because—although I got irritated with him and his behavior and did snap at him from time to time—we were not really enemies. In fact we were barely friends for most of the years we knew each other—

Well.

Ok. So that’s not totally true...

We fought online constantly. From the time we graduated college (where his crush first developed and I routinely forgot his name) the two of us were always fighting on social media—usually about politics—and occasionally about other things but both of us were too smart to ever truly get the better of each other so there was a grudging respect, (his mom said he used to yell at his computer screen about me). We had it OUT several times online even though we rarely—if ever—spoke in person.

My poor sweet boy DID get himself in trouble over me in more ways than one though—even if we’re weren’t close yet...

His college girlfriend set him up to fail asked him who he would date if the two of them weren’t together and he answered immediately—vehemently—

“Viola. I would definitely date Viola if I could.”

🤦🏻‍♀️ (oh...honey...no)

(That would become a huge THING in their relationship. Every time they got into a fight his ex would shout “why don’t you just go date VIOLA then?!”—When he married me he said he felt like a real winner in that particular collection of conflicts. Playing the long game I guess 🤣😂)

Back then I was all about the music/dramatic arts scene and I was dating a string of empty headed pretty boys who bored me nigh unto death because I was young and completely stupid.

In contrast my someday-boo was painfully quiet and shy (though not really with me because he was too busy trying to prove me wrong), but everyone who met him or spoke to him really liked him and respected him.

After college we were were still in the same extended social circle (and—as previously mentioned—fighting online), but I went to grad school and my not-yet-husband decided to chill for awhile and take a job as a landscaper while he figured his life out and... here’s where it gets complicated because...

—that’s where the girls came in. You see... he’s always been a really nice guy... maybe a little too nice 🤦🏻‍♀️

The term fuqboi tends to conjure up impressions of a cocky frat bro who slyly shags his way through a mountain of willing women with disconnected efficiency and a subtext of emotional constipation.

But that would not be the case here.

You see my husband is a listener. He’s an INFP. He, unlike many of his brethren, understands emotions and can really make a woman feel seen. Combine that with his good looks, brilliant mind, and broody nerditude and you have a recipe for women who were ‘just friends’ randomly dropping to their knees (and a lot more) for him.

Never one to stand in the way of a lady’s dreams, pre-me-hubby figured that if they were that determined to (*insert miscellaneous sexy stuff here*) with him then—well—he’d let them.

I mean why not, right? No harm done.

Wrong. 🤬

And here is where our paths truly began to merge (in the real world) for the first time.

As the FOURTH girl (just in my friend group) he graciously allowed (🤦🏻‍♀️) to have her wicked way with him sobbed in my arms, I became determined to put this ridiculous man-child IN his PLACE—this time in the tactile world as well as the virtual one.

...Poor Liz

She realized that he had absolutely no desire whatsoever to be in a relationship with anything other than his WoW account and she was insistent that he had broken her heart.

So I cornered him and we had it out. (Call me meddlesome, but to be fair he was four friends deep at this point.)

The problem was that... the more I talked to him...the more he was not really what I expected... I found myself...oddly...intrigued?

Later it would come out that I was the first girl—ever—that he actually pursued. And I was not even aware of it for like the first three months.

He was pretty slick after all when it came down to it.

That man convinced me to ‘help him’ with women—to make sure he didn’t get himself into another situation where some girl with heart eyes was tearing off his clothes and expecting commitment.

HE ASKED ME TO BE HIS ‘EXCUSE.’

🤦🏻‍♀️(...I know. I’m an idiot.)

“We can hang out. You’ll teach me how to spot if a girl is about to catch feelings and take off my pants. And I will have an excuse when they call as to why we can’t hang out” (—and ...they really were always calling. It was wild.)

....I mean he WAS shy! It SEEMED plausible!

So yeah my dim self agreed to it. (🤦🏻‍♀️)

I considered it a valiant attempt to save the rest of my social circle from the most clueless ‘accidental’ fuqboi on planet earth and maybe even an opportunity to teach him how to be a real human being and what not.

And before you think ‘fake dating’—we weren’t. We were just hanging out as friends. You see when I went to yell at him (and chased him down after he laughed at me and tried to escape) we ended up talking in his car for like four hours. And then that happened like three more times randomly so... I... actually... wanted... to be his friend... 🤷🏻‍♀️

I was still 110% not interested romantically.

Your girl (me) was after some bland banker dude (🤦🏻‍♀️) and so I blissfully fell into friendship with my actual soulmate without a single second thought. And I never worried about either of us catching feelings because I had a crush on someone else and he had heavily implied that I was not his type. (He told me later that I just assumed this and he simply never corrected me 🙄)

I don’t remember falling for him. I never decided to. I never thought about it...

But one day after the whole crew was hanging out at a restaurant (and the waiter kept giving me free drinks which may have pissed my once-and-future man off) the two of us went out to his car to have our customary three hour post-chill chat...

I was teasing him about something—some girl he was still attempting to untangle himself from—and I said—as had become my habit (seriously I said this so many times as a joke)—“It’s too bad I’m not your type—you could just tell her you have a girlfriend.”

(Now. I know what you’re thinking. But I was still firmly on team platonic ok! I was just a flirt. And maybe part of me was starting to feel weird things about him—but those feelings weren’t like anything I recognized so I thought I just needed to cut back on sugar or something.)

(Have I mentioned I’m an idiot?)

ANYWAYS he looked me right in the eye. So serious. And instead of saying “that’s too bad”—LIKE he ALWAYS did—he said—

“You...are my type, Viola... You’re exactly my type.”

To which I responded—“....What? No I’m not. You said I wasn’t.”

“Never said that. You assumed.”

“You LET me!”

—followed by a good ten minutes of me having an existential crisis/yelling at him for allowing me to believe he didn’t find me attractive and lulling me into a false sense of security. He was infuriatingly unapologetic.

At the end of it all he asked me to give him—give us—a chance.

And I agreed to go out on a few dates with him (mostly to prove to myself that there was nothing there).

(🤦🏻‍♀️)

The only thing I ended up proving was that I was wrong about what I wanted and even more wrong about what I needed.

You see...

Those weird feelings turned out to be love.

(🤦🏻‍♀️)

And it was a really special experience to sit in a room full of girls who had cried in my arms over him—girls I had lectured repeatedly on the dangers of his heartless ways— and admit that I was his girlfriend.

🤦🏻‍♀️

Love was—and continues to be—nothing like I expected and frankly I couldn’t be happier.

... to answer your questions

1. I have considered writing a fic based on our story called Broken Road. The title is taken from an old Rascal Flatts song that—as insanely cheesy as it is—really reminds me of us. Don’t know if I will actually write this. Thought about it a lot though.

2. Tags I would use for this story?

#enemies-to-lovers / #idiots-to-lovers / #college au / #outgoing!fem reader(me) x shy nerd!accidental fuqboi / #reader is also a huge nerd actually / #she’s just a loud one / #frenemies-to-lovers / #the love is requited / #they’re just idiots / #pining (his) / denial (mine) / #reader has terrible taste in men / #except for that last one / #she really redeemed herself there at the end

[angelikook]

How to Find Your Soulmate

Pairing(s): Non-idol!Namjoon x reader

Genre: Tooth-rotting fluff, teensy bit of angst

Word Count: 10.2k

Warning(s): None

Summary: Where a journey to find his soulmate took a different turn.

A/n I wrote this as a spur in the moment thing, but it surprisingly came out really well.

The familiar sound of keys jiggling from his front door was a sure sign that he was about to lose whatever amount of peacefulness in his tiny apartment. As he braced himself for what was about to come, the door swung open and came in the person he had been waiting for.

Y/n was her name. Peculiar, wild, and random. Her hair basically could represent her entire personality. Unruly, messy, and out of control. She'd been a loner for most of her lifetime. Definitely a big believer in “I’m a strong independent woman who doesn’t need no man”.

It also came as a surprise to Namjoon when he couldn’t help but to be attached to her a long time ago when they were kids. And ever since that, he had gained a new best friend. Or more like the best friend since he didn’t have that many best friends to begin with.

“Joon, let’s go! We have things to do.” Y/n grabbed on his arm and tried to pull him up from his slouched position on his couch. The couch that became worn out so quickly for its rather frequent use whenever he was stressed.

In his defense, it wasn’t his fault that the couch was so comfy.

Failing to pull him up, Y/n groaned in frustration. “Come on! There’s a bazaar downtown that I wanna check. Can’t have me go alone at this time, right?”

“I don’t wanna get up. Let’s just watch Netflix,” he said as he turned on the TV.

Y/n snatched the remote from his hand and turned the TV back off. “Nope. Let’s go. Tomorrow is Saturday anyways, you can watch the TV all you want.”

Namjoon sighed. “What do I get for this?”

Y/n grinned and cupped her cheeks. “You get to spend time with me.”

“Ugh, I don’t want that,” he teased as he pulled himself up from the couch. “I'm tired of seeing your face.”

“You, mister.” She jabbed her finger at him. “Owe me a boba tea, remember? Now is the perfect time to redeem yourself.”

“Remind me not to wake you up again on Sunday mornings.” He shuddered at the memory of seeing bed headed Y/n screaming on top of her lungs, telling him not to wake her up from her beauty sleep or whatever.

“Are you seriously wearing that, though?” he asked as he eyed Y/n’s outfit.

She still wore the same outfit that she had worn since this morning. There was a noticeable coffee stain on her left cufflinks, indicating she probably had bumped her mug with her hand by accident. Her skirt was already crinkled especially on the bottom part. Disclaimer, he totally did not just check her out. Her heels made her feet red and look swollen. They clearly cut off her circulation, but somehow she insisted on wearing them anyways, claiming that she felt sexy and smart and beautiful in them.

“They look uncomfortable,” Namjoon had commented one day after noticing how her heels made Y/n walk weirdly. “Why don’t you just wear sneakers?”

Y/n scoffed, as if what he had said was ridiculous. “Real women don't wear sneakers to work, Joon.”

“Whatever you say, Y/n.” Namjoon had tried hard to stop the urge of rolling his eyes.

Ever since that, he didn’t even want to talk about her heels. “Let her suffer if she wanted that,” he always reminded himself.

Y/n walked to his full-length mirror inside his room and stared at herself. “What’s wrong with this?”

“Just change into more comfortable clothes,” Namjoon said from the living room. “You’d look out of place."

With that, Y/n closed the bedroom door behind her and grumbled. “This is perfectly fine. People do go out after work to a bazaar.”

She actually said more than that. Way more. But at this point, he didn’t even bother to listen to her. It wasn’t like this was his first time ignoring her blabbers. And he was pretty sure she was used to it, too.

Minutes later, Y/n came out to the living room wearing Namjoon’s hoodie and sweatpants. She even managed to find a pair of his sandals that he thought was gone. Sure her outfit now swallowed her, but at least it was more comfortable.

“Alright, let’s go!” was the last thing she said before they left his apartment.

A boba tea and a corn dog later, Namjoon and Y/n were walking aimlessly. They were just following the direction other people were taking, not really sure themselves where they would end up.

“Aren’t you glad I forced you out of that stuffy apartment?”

“Nope. I still rather be on my couch.”

Y/n frowned. “What?” She gestured to their surroundings. “This is so much better.” She saw a small bench and sat on it, gesturing to him to sit beside her. “I think you need to take a breather and just relax, my dude. Whatever problems you have at work, they don’t exist for now.”

“It’s easy for you to say that.”

Y/n slurped hard on her drink, trying to get as many bobas as possible into her mouth. “You-”. Chew. “-think too much-”. Chew. “-of things you can’t-”. Chew. “-control.”

“Okay, finish your drink first. That’s disgusting.”

Y/n laughed while trying to stop her bobas from coming out of her mouth. After succeeding to suppress her laughter, she chewed on the bobas thoroughly before swallowing them.

“You’re an overthinker who misses on great things in life just because you’re too caught up in your problems. And when you realize you missed those things, it’ll be all too late.” Y/n then continued finishing her drink in silence while he was registering what she just said.

He was so focused on his thoughts to the point he didn’t even realize when Y/n had left him to find a trash can. He was only drawn back to reality when Y/n came to him running and yelling his name in excitement.

Y/n spoke in rapid speed to the point she sounded like speaking gibberish. The only thing he heard was “fortune teller” before Y/n yanked on his hand and dragged him to a small kiosk.

The kiosk was mostly empty. No customers were surrounding it unlike other kiosks. But it wasn’t what set it apart from the others. It was the big letters in front of it that read “fortune teller” in big bold text. Inside, there was only one woman sitting, unmoving, seemingly reading something, a book maybe.

Aware of his and Y/n’s presence, the fortune teller looked up from the book and smiled at them both. Unlike what the media portrayed fortune tellers were, that they were scary and mysterious, her smile was warm and friendly.

“Is there something I can do?” The fortune teller closed the book and stood up.

“Yes!” Y/n replied. “My friend here-” She gestured to Namjoon “-wants to know his future.” After a few seconds of pause, she added, “And about his soulmate too, please.”

Before he could respond, the fortune teller beat him to it. “Very well.” The fortune teller cracked her knuckles before staring deep into his eyes. Her gaze somehow made him feel naked, vulnerable.

They hold their gaze for a while. As seconds became minutes, he felt breathless, and hot. The gaze that at first was soft but strong, became sharper and almost felt painful. But not long after, the fortune teller focused back at Y/n who stood still beside him, gawking at her. He could finally let out a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“From what I can tell, your friend is on the right track. He’s doing well, but he won’t be if he can’t appreciate the simple things in life,” the fortune teller explained. “As for his soulmate, he already knows who they are, he even knows where they are. The only thing left for him to do is just to figure it out within himself.”

The thing was, he didn’t believe in fortune tellers, astrology, and whatnot. He never even cared about things like that. But seeing Y/n’s grin and the glint in her eyes as she thanked the fortune teller and gave her a tip, he didn’t say anything against it. As much as Y/n called him boring, he wasn’t the type to burst people’s bubble of happiness.

Throughout the walk to Y/n’s apartment, she kept talking about what the fortune teller had said.

“Gosh, I can’t believe you know who your soulmate is.” Y/n lightly punched on his arm. “You never tell me anything.”

Namjoon shrugged. “What’s there to talk about? I don’t know who my soulmate is either. I apparently need to figure it out myself.”

“I know what we can do!”

This sounded like he was about to be in for a bad time. “What?”

“Let’s go do something different! Maybe you'll find your revelation or whatever.”

He really wanted to scoff. “How does that even work?”

“Don’t know. But it's worth a try. Do you want to figure out who your soulmate is or not?”

Of course he did. “Of course I do. What kind of question... ”

Y/n clapped her hands together. “Good! Tomorrow I’ll pick you up. Get ready for a week full of surprises.”

“Wait what? I never signed up for this.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “You did sign up. You said you want to find your soulmate.”

“But not tomorrow!” he raised his voice in frustration. “We have work on Monday.”

“Just call your boss that you’ll be gone for a week.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Dude, bro, my guy, you need to live in the moment. Plus, you haven’t taken a leave in years. Years, Namjoon.”

He inhaled long and hard before exhaling it slowly. His best friend seriously was going to be the death of him.

“Please.” Y/n looked up at him. He suddenly became aware of the massive height difference they had.

It wasn't that Y/n was short. She said it herself that she was the average height although he didn’t really believe that. She just looked so tiny compared to him. But, on the other side, Namjoon was quite tall for a guy around his age.

He groaned. “Ugh, not the puppy eyes. Seriously.”

“Does that mean I win?” There was a soft gleam of hope in her eyes.

Namjoon was a strong man. At least, that was what everyone who knew him had said about him. So it was weird for the always composed and well mannered man to have a weakness. And to have that weakness took in the form of his childhood best friend was even weirder. What in his best friend that didn’t exist in literally anything that could melt his heart like no other? Puppies and kittens could never even compare. His cute bonsais, too, couldn’t even compare.

He might never find the answer to that. Heck maybe he found out about his soulmate before he could answer that. He could only shook his head in disbelief as Y/n put her bunny headband on his hair.

It was Saturday at 8 a.m, the morning after the fortune teller incident. Y/n simply invited herself into his apartment while he was still in the shower. It was one of the things he regretted after giving her the keys to his apartment. It was meant to be used during emergencies, not for her getting all cozy here and thinking this was her place.

He was walking out of the bedroom, fully dressed and ready for the day, when he heard a sizzling sound coming from the kitchen. He stepped closer to the kitchen and as it came into view, he saw Y/n cooking with her back facing him.

He thought he was being quiet, but apparently not because Y/n turned around and greeted him with a beaming smile.

"Morning! I'm making you some omelette and there's coffee on the table." She pointed at the mug on the table with smoke still puffing out of it. "Exactly two teaspoons as you like it." Then she continued cooking as if nothing had happened.

He was speechless as he looked at the mess in his kitchen. Egg shells on the floor, ketchup smeared all over the kitchen counter, and some puddles on the floor could be seen. It was as if a tornado just came.

“What is all this?” he asked when he finally found his voice.

Y/n carefully plated the omelette before proudly putting the plate beside the coffee. “This is what I call breakfast. Bet you usually only drink coffee in the morning.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Look at the kitchen, Y/n! Who’s gonna clean up after this?”

Y/n took a look around the kitchen with a readable and all too familiar facial expression.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Namjoon said as he took a seat. “And to that, I say, I don’t want to clean up your mess. You clean it up.”

She lifted her hands in surrender. “Fine, geez. A thank you would be nice.”

“You not making a mess would be appreciated.”

“Touché."

Usually when he had coffee in the morning, he felt that adrenaline rush. The kind that made you feel giddy, restless, and even made you tremble. This time, thanks to Y/n's cooking, he didn’t feel any of those. He was tempted to tell Y/n about this, but in the end, he just kept it to himself. He didn’t want to fuel her ego. It wasn’t a very good idea to do that so early into this “Journey to Find Namjoon’s Soulmate” or whatever Y/n had called it last night.

Even if he told him all those things, chances were she wasn’t going to listen to him as she was busy admiring her work on his hair. The bunny headband finally put on properly and held his hair away from his face.

“Have you ever put on a face mask before?” Y/n handed him a face mask.

“Umm, no.”

“Let me put it on you.” She smiled as she took back the face mask from his hand.

Within seconds, her trained hands successfully put the face mask on his face. And not long after, her face was also wearing one.

“We’re matching!” Y/n grinned at him. “Let’s take a selfie,” she said as she pulled out her phone.

He wasn’t big on selfies, he didn’t even remember the last time he took one. But seeing the huge smile on his best friend’s face was enough for him to reluctantly agree.

He forced a smile at the camera. He realized it looked awkward as Y/n shoved their photo in front of his face to show him the result. It looked even more ridiculous with the bunny headband on top of his head. However, the girl looked like she didn’t mind as she kept babbling on about how this was their first selfie in years and she wanted to upload it so bad.

“-will ask me about you. And what’s going to happen to me when you date one of them?”

A silence followed her ramblings until he realized she just asked him a question.

He cleared his throat. “First of all, just because I’m dating, doesn’t mean you can’t still be my best friend. Second of all, isn’t the purpose of this… adventure is to find my soulmate?”

Y/n eyes widened in realization. “You’re right! I’m gonna post it then.” As she was about to hit the post button on her phone, she looked at him. “Wait. What should I caption it?”

20 minutes later, when the once cold mask was no longer cold and it started to dry a bit, Y/n carefully peeled the mask from both their faces.

“What do you feel?” Y/n asked expectantly.

Namjoon didn’t even know how to answer that. Truth to be told, these skin care products never really made an impactful difference on his skin, hence the reason he didn’t have a skin care routine. The most he ever did was just wash his face with a face wash and even that was a leftover he found in his sister’s old room a few weeks after she left for uni. A side note, don’t even ask him why he was in her room, he wouldn’t answer it truthfully. His parents would probably say that he missed her, but he knew it wasn’t true… right?

The lack of response from him was enough for Y/n to catch on what he was feeling.

“You don’t feel anything, huh?”

“Wetness on my face.” His answer sounded more like a question.

“You’re unbelievable. Well, since today is just the first day, I’ll let it go. But, the correct answer to that is refreshed, Joon,” Y/n explained in exasperation as she scratched her head.

“What does that have to do with finding my soulmate?”

“You might find out your soulmate faster if you’re not stressed,” Y/n said as a matter-of-factly.

He sighed. “You know what, I don’t even bother to argue with you.”

“Cause you know I’m right.”

That night when he was about to fall asleep, when he was only half-aware of his surroundings, the memory of today’s activity played in his mind. The messy kitchen as his best friend attempted to make him breakfast. Her proud smile as she served his food. The focused look on her face when he was putting on her headband and the face mask on him. And lastly, the tired smile she offered him as she said goodbye when the day ended after they binge watched on Netflix. For the first time in years, he fell asleep with a smile plastered on his face.

The next morning on Sunday, he woke up much earlier than usual. He even woke up feeling energized. He could even feel anticipation bubbling inside of him. The last time he felt like this was when he was around 9 and his parents gave him tickets to Disneyland as a birthday gift. Simply put, he felt like a kid again, waiting for great things that were about to happen today.

As he smiled at the memories of his childhood, he couldn’t help but realize that maybe Y/n was right all along. She always nagged on him because all he did was to mope around on his old couch and get drunk when things got too hard.

“Live in the moment, dude,” she had said multiple times. “You worry too much like an old man who fears the end of the world.”

What a great metaphor, Y/n.

Just like the day before, Y/n entered his apartment without notice. But this time, instead of being in the shower, he was already dressed and waiting for her. He could feel his heart beat get faster when he heard the door being opened.

Y/n widened her eyes in surprise before she smirked. “I like the energy. Let’s just go, then!”

For the second activity in The Journey to Find Namjoon’s Soulmate, Y/n took him to an…

“Animal shelter?” Namjoon asked in disbelief.

Y/n nodded. “I want to see cute animals.”

“We can just go to the zoo.”

“It’s expensive. And they don't really care about animals."

Ever since the start of their friendship, he could never win against her wittiness. So this wasn’t really a rare occurrence where she said an argument so wrong yet so right.

“But a zoo is intended for exactly that purpose. Rather than you playing with those sheltered animals but not adopting one of them in the end,” Namjoon explained.

“Oh, shush. Stop being a party-” Y/n’s eyes suddenly caught a puppy running towards her. “Oh my God, come here, baby!” she yelled as she scooped the puppy up in her arms.

For a few minutes, it was just Y/n cooing at the puppy and he was just eyeing her in amusement. He knew that she would go mushy and all excited around animals, so he couldn’t really blame her for seemingly forgetting about him. Plus, he didn’t want to miss out on seeing Y/n using baby voices to talk to the animals.

His amusement was interrupted when Y/n abruptly shoved the puppy towards him.

“Wha-? I don’t-”

“Just take it. We’re here for you, not me.”

Namjoon sighed in defeat as he accepted the puppy into his arms. Its tail wagging so fast, going for miles per second, to the point he could feel its body shaking from the impact. Its big eyes looking up at Namjoon in… adoration? Maybe going to the shelter might be one of his favorite activities from now on.

They only went home after an entire day spent at the shelter. Namjoon was tired, he almost couldn’t keep his eyes open, but Y/n was probably more tired than him cause she kept running around to chase every puppy and kitten she saw.

He tried to stop her, knowing she would get tired, but she said, “Each one of them deserve love, okay,” before running around yet again.

Now as they sat in the bus on their way home, he saw out of the corner of his eyes Y/n’s head bobbing down every once in a while, following the motion of the bus. He snorted while he tried to hold his laugh. What he had thought would happen, really happened.

Feeling bad because he knew that would feel uncomfortable, he lightly directed Y/n’s head to rest on his shoulder. Instinctively, Y/n snuggled further into his shoulder to make herself more comfortable and when she was finally satisfied, she sighed.

This awfully looked like he was going to have a guest tonight.

The third day was on a Monday. He knew he was weird, Y/n had told him repeatedly, but he really liked Mondays. For him, it was finally the day in which he could do something about his problems at work that he just left off on Friday.

“I swear, you’re literally the personification of weird,” Y/n had commented one day.

To be honest, he didn’t really care if he was really what she had said. Can’t someone like something without being judged?

Right after they both woke up and had breakfast, Y/n went back to her apartment to get ready for the day.

Before leaving, she instructed him to find light clothes as they were going to spend time outdoors for the day. Exactly like what she said, he chose to wear an old t-shirt he had owned since he was in college and khaki shorts he found at the pit of his wardrobe.

“I hope they have mint choco flavor!” Y/n jumped up and down in excitement as they got closer to the ice cream parlor.

“Ew, why do you even like to eat cold toothpaste?” Namjoon asked rhetorically.

Y/n gasped. “What is this mint choco slander? You, mister, have never tasted life until you eat mint choco ice cream.”

“No, thanks. I bet I’d taste death eating those.”

Flabbergasted, Y/n stopped in her tracks and glared at him. “You-”

He quickly cut her off, “Let’s not continue the argument before there’s a bloodbath.”

Y/n chuckled proudly. “Because you know it’d be your blood that’ll be spilled.”

“Um, no,” he interjected. “I think you mistake your blood with mine.”

“Really? You wanna fight?” Y/n took a fighting stance in front of him in which Namjoon just grabbed her elbow and pulled her to walk again.

"Stop that! The kids will think you're one of them," he mumbled.

They were at a busy park surrounding a lake. Kids were running all around the place. Some parents tried to chase them but some went as far as scolding them. A small portion of parents even just let their kids disappear into the crowd of people. He doubted those parents even care about their kids.

He never knew such a place like this existed. During the three days he spent on this journey, he had learned and knew more things than all of his life experiences combined. Maybe he’d have to thank Y/n after they reached the end of this journey.

“I start to think this journey is just your excuse to have a holiday.”

“No way. This is totally 100% for you. Speaking of that, do you already have an idea who your soulmate might be?”

Namjoon shook his head as he opened the door to the ice parlor and gestured to her to enter first. “Just get your damn ice cream.”

There was a long line of people waiting to order, but soon enough, it was their turn.

Even before the cashier could greet them, Y/n already blurted out a question. “Do you have mint choco flavour?”

“We’re unfortunately ran out of it. Maybe you want to try mocha instead?”

Y/n pouted in disappointment as she was trying to find the next best flavor in the menu.

Though mint choco ice cream was his mortal enemy, he couldn’t help but to feel a pang of sadness upon seeing his best friend’s reaction. There was nothing worse than having your first choice unavailable.

“You know what? I changed my mind, bubblegum is now my favorite,” Y/n commented as they walked out of the parlor. A cup of bubblegum flavored ice cream in Y/n’s hand and the vanilla one in Namjoon’s. “Goodbye, mint choco.”

“See? You’re finally agreeing with me.”

“Yeah, but for different reasons. I still think it tastes good, but bubblegum is better. It’s a good thing they ran out of mint choco.”

“Your taste in ice cream is weird.”

“Why would they make these flavors then if not for me to enjoy?” she argued as she put more ice cream into her mouth. She closed her eyes and hummed in content. “I haven’t had ice cream in weeks. I miss how cold it feels.”

“I think you’re exaggerating.” There was no way, in his opinion, not even in alternate universes where she could stand not eating ice cream for weeks. She had a sweet tooth and couldn’t stand not eating ice cream in weeks, at least that was what he knew since the start of their friendship.

“Nope. These past few weeks, my boss has been giving me double the amount of work. I have to work overtime and by the time I’m off work, all ice cream places have closed. So I’m gonna savour all of this as much as I can. God knows when I can get ice cream again.”

Shortly after she said that, a kid, approximately around 9 years old, bumped into Namjoon and accidentally made him drop his ice cream. The kid, unaware of what just happened, just mindlessly bowing and saying sorry before running again to chase his friends.

“Oh no!” Y/n squatted down near the sorry sight of his ice cream.

Before he even registered what was happening, she handed him her ice cream. “Hold it for me.”

Instinctively, he held her ice cream. “Y/n, there’s no need for that. We can find the cleaning service and ask them to clean it.”

He didn’t know whether she was purposely ignoring him or she was so focused to the point she didn’t hear him. All he knew was the fact that she kept on cleaning up as best as she could. And that there was nothing he could do to stop her.

A few minutes later, Y/n jumped up from her squatting position. “All done!” She tossed the now dirty tissue in a trash can nearby.

She thanked Namjoon and took her ice cream back from him. But instead of eating it herself, she scooped some with the spoon and directed it in front of his face.

He must have looked bewildered because Y/n smiled and spoke, “We must share since you lost yours.”

He could swear when she said that, he felt warmth all around his body, originating from his chest. She just said she missed ice cream, yet when he lost his, she didn’t hesitate to share it.

“No, but thanks.”

Y/n frowned and softly touched the tip of the spoon to his lips. Reluctantly, he let her spoon-feed him.

“You said you want to savour it?” he asked after he swallowed.

Her answer, however, was something he never expected coming out from her mouth.

“What’s sweeter than eating ice cream is sharing it with your best friend.”

He swore he almost broke into tears at her words.

He knew how much she loved sweet foods. She even frequently ran to him crying when her brother ate all of her chocolate when they were kids. She broke many friendships because they didn’t want to accept her overpriced candies as presents. Heck, even a moment ago they were arguing about ice cream flavors!

This was a new side of Y/n that he just saw. A side she never showed him before, her best friend slash her only friend. He felt like he was learning more about Y/n than he was about his future soulmate.

So that was how their third day ended. Namjoon and her sitting on a bench facing the lake as they take turns to take a bite of her ice cream.

On Tuesday, the fourth day, Y/n had the genius idea of going on a road trip. It was a huge problem, because one: he couldn’t drive, and two: he wasn’t about to let Y/n drive for hours on end.

“This doesn’t sound like a very good idea,” Namjoon said for the millionth time that morning as Y/n stuffed their luggages into the tiny trunk in her tiny car. “Plus, I don’t think your car can withstand long hours on the road.”

"Shush." She forcefully closed the trunk. "You can't drive, therefore you don't deserve to have an opinion."

The car in question was a 2010 car that originally was owned by Y/n’s dad and given to her when she got a driver’s license. Please note that Y/n had told him long ago that she actually didn’t drive that much and probably wouldn’t need a car since she enjoyed taking the bus to work. Nevertheless, she refused to sell the car when she was in need of money after moving out of her parents’ house. She had said, and Namjoon still remembered it clearly, that, “I want to keep this bad boy until he’s an antique, then I want to sell him to the highest bidder, so I can be rich."

‘Okay’, Namjon had thought, ‘but antique cars are usually just sitting in the garage, not being overworked like Y/n’s.’ However, he never said anything, so Y/n automatically had thought she won again against him.

Minutes later, they were already on the road, going nowhere in particular. Namjoon was still steadfast in his stance. This wasn’t going to end well.

But what if he could persuade her to turn the car around by another means? He wasn't going to pass up this opportunity, so he tried again.

"Won't you be tired? Sleepy?" asked him.

"I'm not weak, Namjoon. Contrary to what you see me as, I'm as strong as you are, if not stronger."

"I lift three times a week." His words sounded more like a question.

"I walk up the stairs to the fifth floor multiple times a day."

Okay, this wasn't where the conversation was supposed to flow, but he wasn't going to back down.

"It's not my fault your apartment is crappy," he clapped back. “They can’t even fix their damn lift.”

"They will get it fixed soon, don't worry."

"That's what they said months ago!"

"Then what do you want me to do?" she challenged him.

"Find a new apartment!"

"They're all expensive. Plus, I’ve lived there since college, I’m kinda attached to it."

"You're a hopeless cause," he mumbled quietly, she probably didn't hear him.

After a few seconds of silence, Namjoon tried again, this time using another different approach.

"What if something terrible happens?"

"No, it won't. Relax. Chill. You're worrying too much. Why don't you just take a nap?"

"You're too chill, Y/n. We go out to nowhere without booking-"

"It's okay, really."

“How?” he asked, exasperated of how calm she was when they were about to go somewhere empty handed and with no planning whatsoever.

“How? Umm, I was on a road trip once.”

He wasn’t convinced. “When? You never tell me anything about it.”

“I don’t need to tell you everything I do! It was when I was 12. My dad and uncle took me along with them to go around the country.”

“12 years old, Y/n! You were 12. Now you’re in your 20s.” Namjoon wasn’t amused at all at this point. “Turn the car around now!”

“What? No!” Y/n exclaimed. “This is an important part of the journey. Being at a place you’re familiar with won’t help you dig deeper into yourself. You’d just be too preoccupied with your problems.” Then Y/n finished her speech off with a quiet mumble, “You’ll never find anything new by being in your comfort zone.”

Namjoon hated once again at how right her words were. He really wanted to argue with her, but she was right. Being on his couch all day, doing the same things everyday, wouldn’t change anything in his life.

He took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Fine, okay, you win. Happy?”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Y/n grinned. “Very.”

That night they arrived at a small motel that probably only had like 10 rooms at most. It had a homey feeling, but the stench coming from the lobby, though. It was unbearable for him.

As they dragged their suitcases while they were trying to find their room amidst the numberless doors, Namjoon asked Y/n, “Why are we in this crappy motel again?”

To answer that, Y/n shrugged. “Don’t know. I just saw the signs and went straight in.”

“Didn’t you smell something at the receptionist?”

They finally arrived in front of their room. They didn’t actually know it was their room, but based on the instructions that the creepy receptionist just gave them, there was a high chance this was it.

Y/n answered as she opened the door. “Yeah. The receptionist actually whispered to me that they just finished eradicating rats. He said there was an infestation in the lobby.”

He couldn’t help but to grimace while following her into the room. She had been told about all of that and she still decided to rent a room. He would never understand her way of thinking even after years of friendship.

As if she could read his mind, she spoke, “Don’t worry. All the rats were successfully killed and all of them were in the lobby. We’re safe.”

“How do you know?”

“I asked him. I’m not stupid, Joon.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Geez, chill. I just asked you a question.”

And that was how their fourth day concluded.

For the first time since the start of the journey, Namjoon finally initiated an activity on the fifth day.

He managed to browse on his phone for things they could do, eat breakfast with whatever food they had, and even pack lunch for the both of them before Y/n even woke up.

When she woke up, he hesitantly asked her to go hiking. Throughout the journey this far, he only followed wherever she wanted to go, so he didn’t really expect the reaction that he got from her after proposing his idea.

She widened her eyes as she digested his words and her breakfast. “Hiking? Where?”

“Behind this motel, there’s a small hill. What do you think?”

Y/n nodded a little too enthusiastically. “Let’s go. Spending a day with nature doesn’t hurt.”

Oh, how wrong she was.

The idea was for them to hike together, maybe even side by side, as they enjoyed the view. But instead, Namjoon left her a solid 50 meters.

Perhaps it was because he was taller, therefore he had longer legs and strides, or because he was excited, so he walked faster, or even both. No one really knew for sure, not even him.

“Joon!” she called once again in the span of less than 5 minutes. “Don’t walk too fast!”

Namjoon sighed as he stopped in his tracks, waiting for her to catch up with him. She was lucky she was his only best friend or he would’ve strangled her by now because of her naggings.

Quite a surprise to himself, when she finally caught up with him, he squatted down and ordered her to ride on his back. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him, but he just went with it. Maybe his unconscious thought that she would quit complaining if she was on his back. There was only one way to find out.

“Why? I can walk on my own.” She wiped the sweat on her forehead with a tissue.

He scoffed. “You look like you’re about to pass out any second. Just shut up and let me carry you.”

He didn’t know what he had expected from giving someone a piggyback ride and that someone to be Y/n, but he was sure a strangling grip around his neck wasn’t part of the deal.

“Can you-” Gasp. “-not strangle me?”

Y/n immediately let go of him. The warmth of her embrace suddenly disappeared. “Oops. Sorry.”

Once they arrived at the top, Y/n jumped off his back. “Woah, this is so cool.” She pointed at the motel that now looked small. “That’s our motel!” she exclaimed.

They found a large flat rock that they both could sit on and ate lunch together.

As she munched on her food, she asked, “Have you figured out who your soulmate is?”

“Not yet. I start to think this doesn’t work.”

“Good things take time, my dude.”

Oh, how he really wished it was true.

“Hey,” Y/n’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Do you know that I always wanted to tick off ‘hiking’ from my wishlist?”

“The wishlist you had since you’re 10?”

She nodded. “After more than a decade, I finally finished everything on my wishlist.” She suddenly broke into a fit of giggles. “I’m gonna make a new one once we’re home.”

“What’s going to be in it?” he asked curiously.

Y/n took a moment to think before answering, “Maybe… to find my soulmate.” It came out more like a question rather than an answer.

She abruptly chuckled. “Wouldn’t it be crazy if in the end we figure out our soulmates in this journey?”

A lightning fast thought struck him but disappeared just as fast as it came. Throughout the rest of the day, he was trying to recall that thought to no avail.

The next day, on Thursday, they were going home. They couldn’t handle another hour, no scratch that, they couldn’t even handle another minute at the motel. Opposite to what Y/n had initially thought, the stench of rat carcass reached far beyond the lobby to their room.

A series of “see I told you so”s later, Namjoon finally broke her.

“Yes, Namjoon. Thanks for telling me that. I know you’re right and I’m wrong. Now please put on a song, I want to sing.”

Another thing Y/n was bad at, according to him, was singing. He knew she liked to sing, she’d told him about it, but he never understood how she managed to be so confident yet so bad at it. If he were told to rank between her ability to sing and choose a good motel, he’d probably have put singing as the first place based on how bad she was at it. Call him a bad friend, but he was just being honest.

However, he still played a song just to satisfy her. An easy song that no one can screw up, but he knew she would still screw up anyways. After all, enduring her cracked singing voice was the least he could do after being driven from and to a crappy motel.

And then she sang. And sang. And sang. One song turned to three turned to five then ten and fifteen. Before she went for the sixteenth song, Namjoon stopped her.

“Aren’t you thirsty from singing?” Nice catch! The question was just an attempt to make her stop a while so he could regain his hearing.

“Don’t even have to ask.”

As she gulped down water from her flask, Namjoon eyed her warily. He prayed, and he was an atheist, that she would forget about singing.

He didn’t know which God had answered his prayers, but when Y/n put down her flask, she already babbled about something else other than singing. Looked like the world, and God, were on his side today.

She was talking about the random bird that was flying straight to her car, almost hitting the car. Also about a dog that stuck out its head from the car beside them. And about how expensive the motel was for being smelly and dirty.

Lastly, “Do you think I cut out to be a singer?”

Yeah, maybe he was pushing his luck.

Day seven fell on a Friday. They spent the day walking hand in hand leisurely on the beach. Beside him, Y/n was talking about what color she should dye her hair next.

“I think I should go with green. What do you think?” Y/n nudged his side with her elbow and wiggled her eyebrows.

“Your boss won't let you dye your hair crazy colors,” he said. “Please don’t do anything that can get you fired.”

Y/n pouted at his answer. But soon her frown vanished as her eyes fell upon a bikini in a display of a store.

Namjoon exhaled. He knew exactly what was going to happen.

True enough, Y/n pulled on his hand that was still clasped in hers towards the store and only stopped after they were in front of the display.

“What a cute bikini!” she cooed before running inside the store, leaving a bewildered Namjoon outside.

Right when he entered the store, he heard a squeal that could only belong to one person.

He turned to the source of the sound and saw Y/n laughing with a store clerk. A male and handsome store clerk.

He wasn't the type of person who gets jealous easily or possessive, but he never saw Y/n with a man other than himself. So he couldn't really help it when he felt jealousy seeped through his gritted teeth. But he soon had forgotten about it when Y/n looked up at him and grinned.

Y/n approached him while holding a bikini set.

“This is their latest design. I’m gonna try it. Wait for me!” Then she disappeared to the fitting room before he could remind her that she didn’t wear bikinis.

Throughout the time he had known her, not even once she ever said anything about bikinis, let alone wearing one and he had known her since they were in diapers. What made her suddenly want to have a bikini?

Minutes later, after a series of clanking noises and a few curses, Y/n came out of the fitting room and he couldn’t believe what he saw. Surely the fitting room was a magic box or something, because there was no way his childhood best friend, his innocent Y/n, came out looking like a model out of a magazine. Well, maybe more like a model before they got heavily photoshopped since he still could see some tiny spots, cellulite, and scars on her skin. And maybe a plus size model because her hips would be considered wide compared to those models. But he didn’t mind them, they made her look more… natural, more human.

While he was busy admiring her, a cough suddenly woke him from his daze. He turned to see the store clerk from earlier, now standing beside him.

“You look very beautiful,” he commented, not minding the killing glare coming from Namjoon.

Y/n, without heeding the store clerk’s compliment, asked, “Joon, do you think this is okay?”

Namjoon was tempted to say, “Just okay? You look like a greek goddess who just blessed me with her presence.” But he was too paralyzed to say anything.

“I think you look great,” the store clerk spoke up again. For a split second right after he said that, he looked at Y/n’s thighs before looking at her eyes again.

It happened so fast, Namjoon thought he was just imagining it. But when Y/n’s facial expression turned sour and she quickly went back to the fitting room, he was wondering whether she saw that too.

His suspicion was confirmed right after they left the store.

“I can’t believe it!” she said while stomping beside him. “He looked at my thighs, Joon! Did you see it, too?”

He just hummed.

Y/n huffed. “I’m going to file a complaint to their manager.”

“You won’t do that,” he replied knowingly.

“I’m gonna make it viral, then. Let the whole world see how horrible he is.”

Namjoon really wanted to laugh at how ridiculous that sounded. “How? You don’t have footage of him doing it.”

“Damn, you’re right,” she mumbled. “Maybe I’m just not meant to have a bikini.”

A lot of thoughts ran through his mind. He wanted to let her know how pretty she looked in that bikini. How captivating the curves in her body were. But in the end, he only suppressed all of that. In his justification, he wanted a more appropriate timing. He didn’t want to say all that to her when she was mad or she’d think he said that to make her feel better. He wanted not just to comfort her, but to actually make her realize how beautiful she was.

On Saturday, his second favorite day after Monday, Y/n arrived a bit later at his apartment compared the days before. But when she saw him ready for the day, she said, “I’m giving you a chance to wake up late, but whatever.”

As per usual, Y/n didn’t tell him where they were going, and he was surprised when they arrived in front of a large building with a sign that read “library”.

Looking at Namjoon’s puzzled face, Y/n probably could read what was in his mind. “You still have no idea who your soulmate is, right? I just think that maybe it’s because we’ve focused so much on doing physical activities instead of, like, feeding the mind.”

“Huh?”

“Maybe we can do a little bit of reading. Because, you know, reading is like eating but for the mind. Or whatever that quote is supposed to go,” she elaborated.

“I read in my free time.”

“Have you read anything during this entire journey?” she raised an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. “That’s because of your brilliant idea of having a journey. Had you let me sit down on my couch, I would’ve read the entire biography of the founding fathers by now.”

“Gosh, you’re so boring. No wonder you haven’t found your soulmate. And for the record, you learned a lot of things from this journey. Things that might help you find your soulmate. You know what, let’s just go.” With that, Y/n pulled on his hand and stepped into the library.

Namjoon was in the middle of reading a philosophy book when Y/n suddenly spoke to him.

“I can’t focus, Joon,” she whined. “I have too many things on my mind.”

Those words were the most terrifying words he had ever heard, especially if they came out of Y/n’s mouth. Every time he heard those words, he felt like he wasn’t being attentive enough towards his friends to the point he didn’t know that something was disturbing their peace. And that feeling was heightened when Y/n was the one in trouble. He knew her for the longest time, shouldn’t he be more caring towards her?

He breath hitched, anticipating what Y/n had to say. “Why?”

She took a deep inhale before exhaling slowly. “I know this stupid because it hasn’t ended yet, but I already miss this journey.”

Obviously he didn’t want to admit it in front of her, she would get a crazy idea otherwise, but he, too, could feel a pang in his chest that felt awfully familiar. It was the same feeling he got when he moved out of his parents’ house and when he was reminiscing the time he spent with his late dog. Also when he graduated from high school and had to leave his high school friends to pursue higher education. He wasn’t a stranger to this feeling. In fact, he knew it too well.

Y/n was right, though. It was indeed stupid to feel this way because they still had one more day together.

So he responded with, “We’re still in this journey. And even after this journey ends, we can still go on adventures together,” as a weak attempt to console her and also himself.

“It’s not the adventures that I miss. It’s the time we spend together. We’ve never spent this much time together.”

Of course he knew that. He knew he was going to miss the time they spent together, but his own pride made him unable to act vulnerable in front of her. Especially in the time when she needed him the most.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each deep within their own thoughts. That was when a crazy idea suddenly came to him. He usually wasn’t the one coming with crazy ideas, it was kinda Y/n’s thing and she probably would have copyrighted it if it was possible. But he wasn’t just going to be quiet at a time in crises like this.

“We can arrange some small one-day adventures every month. How does that sound?”

Y/n smiled although it didn’t reach her eyes. “Sounds great. Just promise me you won’t rain check on me.”

It worked! He successfully made her smile again. As he cheered inside his mind, he assured her, “I won’t. I’ll write it on my calendar.”

Namjoon dreaded the last day of The Journey to Find Namjoon’s Soulmate more than when he was called for a job interview by a big company. He even had clammy hands and was sweating bullets. His hand trembled as he waited for Y/n to announce what they were going to do on this last day.

“Holiday has to be concluded with a lazy day. So I call for breakfast in bed,” Y/n explained as she once again wrecked his kitchen.

“I’m not in my bed, though.”

“Your bed is not locked for the rest of the day once you’re out of it,” Y/n said in a matter-of-factly.

“But please don’t ruin my kitchen.”

Y/n briefly stopped cooking as she looked around the kitchen. Then she shrugged. “Well, it’s too late. You should’ve said that earlier.”

He originally had thought that Y/n would make food for him, give it to him, clean the kitchen, then left. But he was surprised when Y/n came back to his bedroom while holding a plate of her own after delivering his.

“Move,” she commanded before shimmying beside him on the bed. She grabbed the remote on the nightstand and turned on the TV.

“Now, we relax. Because we’ll be stressed out of our minds tomorrow.” She leaned back and started eating her bacon.

So that was pretty much how their ninth day went. But that wasn’t all.

Long after they had finished their food, they still watched the TV. Messy kitchen and other duties were long forgotten.

As time passed by, Namjoon found himself cuddling Y/n while she rested her head on his buff chest. And not long after, they both fell asleep in that position with the TV still playing in the background.

But all of that couldn’t last long as tomorrow they had to go to work. So after waking up from their nap, they cleaned the kitchen and Y/n went home before it got too dark.

Instantly after Y/n closed the door behind her, Namjoon felt empty. It wasn’t just his apartment that felt empty, but also his mind and soul. He was already used to her constant nagging, her constant company, and her voice. He wanted to run to her and tell her to extend their journey, but obviously, that was impossible. They had responsibilities, especially since they just neglected them for a week.

On Monday, the day that used to be his favorite but now he loathed it, he came home to a voice message from the person he’d been waiting for.

“Hey. Sorry I didn’t talk to you yesterday whether you’ve found your soulmate or not. I was anxious about work so I forgot. Umm… As soon as you receive this message, please call or text me, okay? I wanna hear what you thought.”

He couldn’t help but also notice something in her voice. Fatigue? Or was it sadness? He swore he could hear it and wasn’t just imagining it.

Wanting to check up on her, he automatically called her. First ring. Second ring. Third ring. He waited and waited, but it only went to her voicemail.

Not giving up so early to talk to his best friend, he rang her again. And waited. And waited. And kept waiting. But just like the first time, she didn’t pick up her phone.

In the end, he settled with sending her a text.

He didn’t know why he was suddenly nervous as he typed the message.

It said, “I still don’t have an idea who that might be. Maybe the journey didn’t work. But, hey, are you sad? Or maybe sick?”

He only got the reply the next day at lunch. He kinda hoped to read long messages about how he shouldn’t be so pessimistic and that he surely would find his soulmate, just like how Y/n usually talked. But instead, she just replied with, “What a bummer.”

He only sighed in disappointment.

The next few days were grim and hard for him. His boss gave him so much work despite having to catch up on his other work. Every time he rode the bus from and to work, he remembered Y/n’s slouched position beside him as they came home from the animal shelter. He could almost feel her head on his shoulder again.

Every time he played a song, he got reminded of the time when he had to endure Y/n’s off-key singing. A memory played in his mind every time he passed an ice cream parlor. Heck, he even missed the feeling of anticipation that he felt every time he woke up in the morning.

What was worst of all though was the fact that they didn’t talk at all after her last text. Not even the occasional text messages or sending each other memes just like what they used to do before the journey started.

He knew it was because they both had a lot of catch up to do after neglecting work for a week, but he really wished that they could spare a bit of time to talk together.

Oh, how silly he was when he dismissed her for missing their time together back at the library. What made him feel even more silly was him being a coward and not admitting back then that he was, too, going to miss spending time together.

One particular night, he had trouble sleeping worse than any other night he had been missing Y/n. He kept turning around, hoping to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in, but to no avail. In the end, he gave up and settled to reminiscing their time together.

As he delved into his memories, every single activity they did, every word she said, and every place they went to, his half-awake mind came upon a realization.

He missed her enthusiasm that could lift his bad mood instantly. He missed her pushiness that made him do things he didn’t want to do, only to show him that she knew what he would like. He also missed her short legs and her whines when he walked too fast. He missed her love for animals, her love for mint choco ice cream, her laugh, smile, kindness, and voice.

He missed her beauty, her body, and her sense of style. He even missed her unruly hair. He missed receiving her love and attention. He missed loving her and having her in his arms. He missed loving her. She was the soulmate he had been looking for. She was his soulmate. His. Soulmate.

At the crack of dawn, a few hours after Namjoon could finally fall asleep, he woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep. He had an important thing to tell Y/n. And he had to do it now before she went to work and he lost another chance to meet her.

He checked the clock, it read 5 a.m. He quickly got up from his bed, took a shower, and grabbed a protein bar before leaving.

In the bus on his way to her apartment, he kept tapping his foot impatiently as he chewed on his protein bar. At times like this, he really wished he could drive. But for now he had to settle with the bus.

He jumped out of the bus as soon as it stopped at the bus stop closest to her apartment.

He checked the time again, 5:43 a.m. He still had a few minutes before she woke up.

He arrived in front of her apartment after five minutes of walking. He knocked on the door rapidly to the point he was sure he accidentally woke up the neighbors. However, it was the last thing on his mind.

A minute later, a sleepy Y/n with a bed head opened the door.

“Namjoon, wha-”

He instantly pushed her in and closed the door behind them both.

“Hear me out,” he demanded.

Y/n nodded while yawning.

“Let me help you cross out one activity from your wishlist.”

“Why are we talking about that at this time?”

“Because it’s important."

“I don’t see it."

He started to lose his patience. “It is! There’s one activity that’s really important right? Like, more important than the others.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Which one? I haven’t written a lot in the list, actually.”

“What are they?"

“To eat a banana-”

For a second, Namjoon was speechless. “What? Banana? Why?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just miss eating bananas.”

“Okay… What’s next?”

She took a moment to think, then answered, “Ah! I want to buy a new phone. Haven’t changed mine in years.”

He sighed. “Next?”

“Be a babysitter for a day.”

That wasn’t an answer he was looking for. “It’s a job for teenagers.”

“That’s why I only want to do it for a day.”

“Then?”

“Learn skateboarding. A skatepark just opened around here.”

“Anything else?”

She pouted. “You don’t want to help me cross any of those?”

“Not that. But, you said a few days ago on our journey that there was something you wanted to put on your wishlist.”

She tilted her head in confusion. “Really? I don’t remember. What was it?”

He really wanted to strangle someone at this point. Why was she so dense? “You really don’t remember?”

“I don’t think I do. Sorry. What was it, though?”

“You wanted to find your soulmate.”

It took her a second to digest his words, but when she finally did, her eyes widened. “Oh, right. Does that mean you want to help me find my soulmate? Go on another journey? You know, you don’t have to use that as an excuse to-”

“Shut up, Y/n. Stop talking so much.”

Y/n frowned. “Sorry.”

He huffed. “I never knew doing this was going to be this hard.” He looked deep into her eyes. “I don’t want to go on another journey to find anyone’s soulmate. And especially not after I realized last night that we have found our soulmates.”

Before he could say anything else, she cut him off. “Really? Who is yours? What about mine? Do I know-”

“Yes! We know them.” He finally decided to just cut the chase and came out clean. “You’re my soulmate, Y/n. And I’m yours. I was so busy chasing love during our journey to the point I never thought about the possibility of you being my soulmate.” With a softer tone, he concluded, “The fortune teller was right. I knew who my soulmate is and where to find them, but I was too stupid to realize that.”

Y/n was stunned for a while before slowly blinking. Once. Twice. “Wow. That’s crazy.” Then she grinned. “You finally admit that you’re stupid!”

“Y/n, that’s not the point!” he groaned.

“Yes, yes, I know.” She laughed. It sounded like bells in his ears. “I’m just messing with you. So, what should we do now?”

“Y/n.” He turned serious if he wasn’t being serious before. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

For a few seconds, Y/n stared at his eyes expectantly, as if she was waiting for something.

“Y/n?”

“What?”

“What do you say?”

“Of course yes, you dummy. I thought it was obvious.”

“Seriously now?” He rolled his eyes.

“Wait. Is this the part where we should kiss?” she asked in wonder.

He was really holding himself hard not to roll his eyes yet again. “Duh, Y/n.”

“But I haven’t brushed my teeth!” Then she disappeared into her bathroom, leaving a bewildered Namjoon in the living room.

As he stared at her bathroom door, he whispered to himself, “What did I just sign up for?”

Masterlist | Join/Leave Taglist

[btsslowburnfic]

BTS Reacts-Argument with their S/O- Hyung Line

BTS Angst: Argument with their S/O- Hyung line

TW: infertility

Maknae Line found here 

Jin: You sit there crying in the bathroom for the 18th time in 18 months. Every time you get your period is a reminder that you're not pregnant. A year and a half of feeling like your body had failed you and that you had failed your husband and his parents. Of course they don't feel that way, but you do. You rub your eyes and stand up. You don't even have the energy to get up and try to do anything today so you throw on some period panties and crawl back into bed.

The first few months after you and Jin started trying for a baby you shrugged it off as your body adjusting to the new hormone levels after you stopped taking the pill. But then more months went by. And more. At the year mark you made an appointment to see your doctor. She made some recommendations but told you if you two continued to have trouble you would need to see a fertility specialist. So here you were, 6 months later crying in bed and watching Netflix. The silence of your apartment amplified by the lack of baby cries and giggles. You had mentioned the specialist to Jin after you came home from the doctor. He shrugged it off. "We just get to practice more, if it happens, it happens." he kissed your forehead and then the two of you proceeded to make love, the discussion put away for another time.

You hear the door to your apartment open and close. You had forgotten Jin was coming home today from the dorm; days were running together for you lately.

"[Y/N]?" you hear him call out. "are you here?"

You close your laptop and sit it on your nightstand and pretend to be asleep. You hear his footsteps echo through the living room and office and finally, you hear the doorknob turn.

He walks over quietly and sits next to you on the edge of the bed. He gently runs his hand across your back, “Jagiya, wake up. It’s afternoon.”

You acknowledge you're awake but don’t roll over.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” he asks, his voice laced with worry.

You feel fresh tears in your eyes as you roll over to face him. “No. I’m not sick.” you whisper.

You see his face fall as he sees the sadness in your eyes. “Then what’s wrong?” he strokes your face.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” you respond quietly.

“You know you can talk to me about anything.” he runs his long fingers through your hair.

“I got my period again. Jin, I don’t think we’re ever going to be able to have a baby.” you start sobbing.

“Oh Jagiya,” he moves into bed next to you and helps you sit up so you can rest against him. “I know this is a hard day for you each month.”

“Each day is hard for me now Jin,” you sob. “Each day in this quiet apartment without a baby. Each time another one of your friend’’s wives gets pregnant even though we’ve been trying longer. I just want us to have a baby.”

“I know [y/n], me too," he says as he holds you.

You cry for several minutes like that and then reach across Jin for a Kleenex. “Jin, I think it’s time to make an appointment to see the specialist.” you say. You feel him stiffen immediately.

“We don’t need that, ” he replies icily.

“Jin, there is clearly something that needs to happen differently. We’ve been trying the same thing for 18 months. There is literally a doctor that helps people have babies.” you turn and face him, your sadness turning into anger.

“We don’t need help. There’s nothing wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with me.” he sternly replies.

“It’s not about something being wrong Jin, it’s about doing what it takes for us to have a baby.” you can’t believe you are having this conversation. You shouldn’t have to convince your husband to go to the doctor with you.

Jin rarely gets actually angry but you can tell he is. He has turned away from you, his legs hanging off the bed.

“Well maybe if you weren’t so sad all the time you could get pregnant.” his words cut you to the core.

You snap your head to stare at him. “I swear to God Jin if you don’t unsay what you just said to me I am leaving this apartment. I have tried for 18 months to have a baby even when I used to be happy. Pretending like everything is great won’t suddenly make our eggs and sperm better.”

“If you want to see a doctor to fix what’s wrong with you, you can go ahead and make an appointment. I’m not going .” he says.

You feel your entire body fill with rage.“Fuck you Jin.” You get off the bed and go to the closet, grabbing your carry-on suitcase and you start throwing things into your bag. You walk back into the bedroom, taking underwear and socks out of your dresser.

Jin’s eyes grow wide in shock, suddenly shaken out of his angry stupor. “What are you doing?”

You walk over to the bed and look into his eyes, snatching your laptop and charging cables. “What does it look like? If my husband isn’t willing to help the two of us have a child, to make the small sacrifice of going to a doctor’s appointment with me, then what the fuck am I even doing here?” you ask rhetorically.

“No. You aren’t leaving. You stay here. I’ll go stay at the dorms if you’re angry with me.”

“No,” you counter as you start walking out to the living room. “I’m not staying in this shell of an apartment where we planned on having a family. It’s torture.” You grab your purse and put your shoes on.

Jin looks at you, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“Good.” you respond and walk out the door.

Part two found HERE

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Suga/Yoongi: You keep checking your phone. You had basically lit a fuse earlier and now you were just waiting for the bomb to go off. Still no messages from Yoongi. You sigh nervously and pick at your nails. Suddenly you hear the door open to the apartment. Maybe Yoongi hadn't been to his studio yet and the two of you could talk. "Hey Yoongi! I wasn't expecting you today," you get up to go see him and the second he walks around the corner you can tell that he knows. "Did you change the password to MY fucking studio?" You had practiced this conversation in your head several times since this morning when you went to see Yoongi at Big Hit. He hadn't been home in weeks. They were gone for the tour for 6 months, he saw you for an awkward week and then had gone back to the studio full time. The two of you weren't even roommates at this point, let alone boyfriend and girlfriend. He barely returned your calls or texts. You had resorted to texting Jin to ask if he was OK and he confirmed that his friend was eating and relatively well, but he was locked in his recording studio most of the time. So this morning, while he was at a meeting, you went and changed his passcode. Can't work if you can’t get into your studio. You purse your lips and prepare for the argument. “I did.” He stares at you with hatred in his eyes, his small frame shaking with rage. “Well at least you’re not dumb enough to lie about it. You are the only person, and I mean the only person who I have ever trusted enough to tell my code to and you fucking went behind my back and did that. What the fuck is wrong with you?” “I haven’t seen you in weeks. Weeks. After not seeing you for months. You hardly answer my calls or texts. You never come home. What am I supposed to do?” you plead. “I miss you so much. I love you but I don’t feel like you even exist anymore. It’s like I’m in love with a memory or a ghost.” “Yeah well, I can never fucking trust you again so I guess none of that matters now. If I wanted to see you, don’t you think I’d see you?” he throws back at you. “Wow. Really? Really? Are you serious? So you’re not here because you don’t want to see me?” “Do I look like I’m fucking joking?” he responds. You stand there for a minute, taking in Yoongi standing there. His thin legs, pale skin, and oversized clothes. Once upon a time this was the man you dreamt about spending the rest of your life with, and here you were today wondering how things had gotten so bad. You ask the question even though you don’t want to. “Do you still love me?” “Aish, don’t ask me stupid questions.” he replies looking off to the side. “Answer me Yoongi. Do you still love me?” You wait for what feels like an eternity. No response. “Ok. Cool. Great, Well, you know what? Here is your fucking password,” you grab a pen and write it down: your anniversary. “Don’t worry, the next time you come home in 2 or 6 or 10 fucking months I won’t be here.” You grab your backpack, you’ll come back for the rest of your things later, and you shove the paper into Yoongi’s chest without saying another word. You slam the door closed to your apartment leaving Yoongi alone clutching the piece of paper.

Part 2 found HERE

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

RM/Namjoon: 3 years. You had been secretly dating Namjoon for almost three years. And today was the day you were over it. Last night you had brought the topic up one more time. “Namjoon, when can our relationship be public? Our third anniversary is coming up. We’ve met each other’s parents and siblings. What more will it take before you’ll feel comfortable?” Namjoon looked down thoughtfully. “I just want to protect you. Between any crazy fans, the paparazzi, and social media I think it’s best if people don’t know about our relationship.” It was the same line every time. For years. Usually at this point you would drop it, but last night you weren’t about to. “Ok so when will we tell the world? 5 years? 10 years? If we had a kid together, would they also be a secret? Would they not be allowed to see you in public or walk down the street with you?” “Of course not, that’s ridiculous.” “How is it different? If we are in a committed relationship then how is it different?” you challenge him. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “It just is.” “It just is? Wow Genius IQ over here has declared it so it must be true. I am sick of feeling like we’re doing something wrong. I feel like I’m a mistress or something when I’m actually your girlfriend who has been living with you for the past 2 years.” “I don’t want to argue with you.” he says as he gets up and tries to leave the room. “I’m not done talking to you about this.” you put your hands on your hips. “Well I am done talking about this. I’m not ready and I think it’s for the best.” “Why do you get to decide?” you ask, increasingly irritated that he won’t even discuss this with you any further. He lets out a heavy sigh, “Look, I love you. I’m committed to you. We have a good life together. Why isn’t that enough?” he says. And it kind of makes sense, but you don’t like being a secret. It makes you feel awful. “Please. I knew who you were when we started dating, I can handle it. Please,” you ask, surprising even yourself at how small and sad your voice sounds. Namjoon just looks at you and goes into the bedroom leaving you alone. ------------ In your sad and angry stupor last night you drank a bottle of wine and then leaked your own photos of you and Namjoon together to a tabloid. Oops. The next afternoon you see an incoming phone call from Namjoon, take a steadying breath, and answer it. “Hey cutie, what’s up?” “Oh I think you know.” he responds angrily. “What? What’s wrong?” you feign ignorance. “I don’t know. Put my name into google and see.” he responds quickly. You do and see several of the pictures you had sent to the tabloid and lots of headlines about his dating life. “BTS RM has found lasting love. Exclusive interview to follow, ‘we’re just so happy!’ girlfriend gushes“ you roll your eyes. You had submitted the photos anonymously, there was no interview promised. “Huh” you say. “Huh? Do you think I’m stupid?” “I mean maybe sometimes but usually you’re--” He cuts you off, “Don’t do that right now. I’m not joking. I am not ok with this. I told you I did not want this to happen and you did it anyways.” You double down on your crazy, “And I told you that I wasn’t ok with us being a secret anymore. So why is what you say final, and what I want tough shit? Huh? You got your way for three years. Let me have my way for the next three. I don’t care if they rip my shitty clothes and thick thighs to shreds.” You hear silence on the line and then slow deep breath. “I am only entertaining this because I love you and because I don’t want them to have to run a break up story, but we are going to talk about this when I get home. I’m still super pissed at you.” “Roger that Mr. Kim,” you respond. “I love you too.”

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

JHope/Hoseok: You unlock the door to your apartment. You've been working 12 hours a day six days a week while your husband, Hoseok, was on tour. You walk in and see his shoes in the foyer and a smile instantly spreads across your face. "Hoseok!?! Are you here!?" you toss your work bag down and run into the living room where you see him sitting with a sour expression on his face. You walk over and sit next to him on the couch and give him a squeeze. "I wasn't expecting you until next month! Is everything OK? I'm so happy you're home." He turns and looks at you. "Clearly you weren't expecting me since the house is a fucking mess. There's coffee cups in every room and dishes in the sink. It's disgusting." You unwrap your arms from him. It's true. There were dishes in the sink and cups everywhere. You were a messier person than him and tried hard to conform when he was home. You were going to clean on your day off. You worked 8-8 every day; there wasn't a lot of extra time. You swallowed your pride and decided to apologize. "I'm sorry baby, I know I'm messy. I was going to get it all cleaned up before you got home. I know it grosses you out. Why are you home early?" you take his hand in yours. "I came home to surprise you. We have three days in between our performances so I thought I'd come see you. I wish I hadn't now though." Honestly it would have hurt less if he slapped you in the face. You feel tears threatening to fall but you try and stay calm to salvage this time that he's come home. " Well. I'm happy to see you. Why don't you nap and I'll pick up." you say and stand up, beginning to gather the coffee mugs and cups. He sits there with an angry expression on his face. "I can't believe you just sit here and trash the apartment I bought for you. Do you just sit here all day and make more garbage?" Tears sting your eyes and you turn to face him. "What the fuck dude? The apartment is a mess because I've been working 72 hours a week for the past 4 months so my quotas will be complete and I can take off work to spend time with you when you're home. And just because you make more money than me doesn't mean I don't contribute. I have a job. I pay bills. I work. I'm sorry that the apartment isn't up to your standards sir," you angrily take the mugs to the sink and wash the dishes while fuming. He's sitting in the same spot you left him, holding his head in his hands. "Well there you go. I'll be sure to mop and polish tomorrow morning before I go to work. Now if you'll excuse me." you head back over to the door. "Where are you going?" he asks, his head snapping up. "You said that you regretted coming home to see me, so don't." you pick up your work bag and walk out.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 32

A/N: Another��‘friend’ of ours makes an appearance in this chapter (unfortunately for me lmao)

August 2nd, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was as prepared as she could be for Game 1 against the Columbus Blue Jackets.  

Scotiabank Arena was freezing – more freezing than normal – because of the three-games-a-day and all the hockey being played.  She knew the players and team personnel would complain if the ice was crap (apparently they could tell, though it beat the shit out of her how they could tell), and of course Scotiabank Arena, and the Leafs in general, wanted to make an excellent impression.  They were the centre of the hockey world, so Aberdeen knew they could pull it off.  It just didn’t help that it was August and it felt like early November indoors.

She joined Brendan and Kyle in their usual box – luckily they didn’t have to give that up.  The team was taking their pre-game skate below and Aberdeen watched as William shot pucks towards Freddie in the net, sneaking one past him before skating around their perimeter of the rink a few times.  On the other side of the ice, the Columbus Blue Jackets were doing the exact same thing, though she barely knew or recognized a soul on the team.  One of them could walk by her in the arena and she wouldn’t know better.  

“How do you think it’s gonna go?” Brendan asked from six feet away from her, his black mask covering his face.

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders.  “You should stop asking me these questions, Brendan.  I know nothing about hockey.”

“That may be,” he said, not letting up, “but you know the boys, on a level far superior than your knowledge of hockey.  So what do you say?”

Aberdeen thought about it.  She knew them on a personal level, but that didn’t matter at all – at least she didn’t think it mattered – when it came to a playoff game.  She knew how much pressure the guys were under.  She also knew that they were still adjusting to the bubble life and how weird everything was.  Make no mistake – they were being taken care of exceptionally well by the staff at the Royal York Hotel, and Aberdeen made sure she said a loud thank you to every worker she came across and interacted with.  She heard every single one of the guys do the exact same thing.  But she didn’t know how that would translate into a hockey game.  They were two different things.  They were to different entities that she had no idea how to join together.  

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, her voice soft.  “When you ask me these questions, I feel like you want me to be Nostradamus or something.  What if I said they were going to lose 2-0?”

“I’d believe you,” Brendan shrugged.

***

The Leafs lost 2-0.

“C’mon Nostradamus,” Brendan said as he packed up his clipboard and tucked it under his arm.  “The social media posts can wait.  You need to go mediate the post-game interviews and press calls.”

Aberdeen packed up her iPad after she rolled her eyes.  She shouldn’t have said anything.  She should have responded ‘They’re going to win 5-0!’ the first time he ever asked her that question and kept that answer throughout the entire season.  She followed six feet behind Kyle, who was in turn six feet behind Brendan, as they made their way to the locker room.  By the time they got there, Sheldon was nearing the end of his post-game speech.  Most of the guys were half undressed – at least at the top – and a few of them were shoving off their elbow pads and chucking their tape from their socks into the bins.  They all looked irritated.  

She made her way into the media room and set up the Zoom call where a bunch of reporters joined.  Morgan and Auston walked into the room, and she quickly typed in the chat which players were there so they could organize their questions accordingly.  Morgan and Auston sat down in their chairs.  

“Is Steve on the call?” Auston asked suddenly while Aberdeen was adjusting the camera.

“Uh, yeah.  Why?” she asked.

Auston pursed his lips together and shrugged it off.  

The interviews were going fine.  She hated hearing the sound of her own voice on recordings but she knew she’d have to suck it up for the sake of the media call.  She called on each reporter by name.  The boys answered their questions.  It was all very routine.  

“Steve Simmons from the Toronto Sun,” Aberdeen called out.  She waited, and while waiting, she saw Morgan’s and Auston’s demeanour completely change.  

“Uhhh, Steve Simmons, Toronto Sun for Auston – it’s one thing to hear about how tight they play, and to even watch the films of how tight they play.  What was it like to experience it?”

Auston took the lead.  “Uh, well I mean first of all, it’s unfortunate that I’mn getting a question from you at this point, Steve, but I just wanted to say I didn’t really appreciate the article you wrote about me a couple months ago.  I thought, uh, it was very unethical to be honest, but…uh, moving along…”

Aberdeen didn’t hear the rest of his answer.  Truthfully, she didn’t care.  All she could feel was a burning sensation shooting up her spine at Auston’s words.  He did it.  He called out Steve Simmons, the most annoying reporter known to mankind.  

She smirked.

***

After the media interviews, Aberdeen found a quiet space and took out her iPad again to post the final score graphic to the team’s Instagram page.  As she finished typing the caption – ‘Battled hard.  Back at it on Tuesday.’ – she heard some fairly loud footsteps behind her before they stopped.  “A girl?” a voice from behind her said.

She didn’t recognize it – and it wasn’t like anybody from the team would refer to her as “a girl” – so she furrowed her brows and turned around.  She saw what had to be a member of the Columbus Blue Jackets staring at her.  She couldn’t see it, but she automatically knew from the way he was standing and the energy he gave off that he was smirking smugly underneath his mask.  “Yeah, we exist,” she shot him a look, not ready to take any bullshit from him or anybody else.  The way these men thought she was a complete novelty astounded her.  “Have you never seen one of us before?”

“So Barzy was right,” the man continued.  “The Leafs have a girl in their bubble.  Incredible.”

Aberdeen could tell by the way he said and emphasized girl that this conversation – if you could call it that – was gonna be a doozy.  The guy was huge but didn’t look any older than she was, so she knew she would be able to put him in his place.  “What are you even doing in this hallway?  You’re not supposed to be on this side,” she said sternly.  “I suggest you leave and go back to your area of the arena unless you want me to complain to the NHL that your breaching protocol.”

From the very end of the hallway, another figure walked by, stopping at the gap when he apparently found who he was looking for.  Aberdeen could at least recognize him – John Tortorella, the head coach of the Columbus Blue Jackets.  “Pierre, what the fuck are you doing there?  Come on, we gotta go.”

The man, named Pierre, gave Aberdeen a smoldering look.  She rolled her eyes.  “Must have taken a wrong turn,” he said, loud enough so John would hear.

Dead set on not taking any bullshit, and just really, really wanting to put this guy in his place, Aberdeen didn’t let up.  “Perhaps you should remind Pierre of how to speak to the staff of another NHL team,” she said sternly.  Both men were too far away to notice how red she was getting, but she could see Pierre whip his head to look at her and his eyes go wide in shock.  “And perhaps he should read another copy of the social distancing and bubble protocols tonight in his bedroom so he doesn’t make this unfortunate decision again,” she said, deliberately using ‘decision’ instead of ‘mistake’, because she fucking knew this was no mistake.  She wondered what other rumours were swirling in the Royal York about a girl being in the Leafs bubble.  

Pierre scurried to the end of the hallway.  From her spot, she could hear John chuckle.  “You must be the Aberdeen Bloom I’ve only ever heard good things about,” he said.  “Keep it up.  I might ask you to take my place to keep the boys in line.”

She couldn’t help but smile.  Pierre took one last look between his coach and ‘the girl’.  “I could take ‘em,” Aberdeen commented, getting a nod from John before he and Pierre disappeared.  

She let out a breath.  

***

After the team got back to the hotel, picked up their pre-packaged dinner, and settled into their rooms, Aberdeen showered and changed.  She sat at the desk where she put the meal and took out her phone.  She sent some quick texts to her parents, Siena, and Camden before bringing up William’s name.

U up?

lmao minskatt isnt that what i should be saying to u *wink emoji*

Do you want to eat dinner together?

of course

I’m ready whenever you are babe

She waited for him to start the call.  Not even two minutes later, her phone began to ring and “Head Empty” flashed across the screen.  She accepted the FaceTime call almost immediately.  When it connected and he appeared on her screen, walking in his hotel room with his bathrobe on and his hair wet and tied back, she smiled.  “Hi.”

“Hi minskatt,” he said, his voice low.  She watched as he put a pair of headphones on.  “That’s better.”

Hers were already in.  “I’m sorry about the game tonight,” she said, perching her phone on a high point on the desk.  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

He shrugged.  “Not really.  At least, not right now,” he said, putting his phone down too.  “Maybe later.  Like, after we have dinner.”

“Promise me we will.”

“I promise,” he said, looking into the phone.  He knew she would want him to talk about it, and he made her a promise all those months ago.  He would never break it.  “Right now I just want to have dinner over FaceTime with my girlfriend even though we’re less than fifty feet away from each other.”

Aberdeen chuckled, if only because she agreed wholeheartedly that this whole thing was ridiculous.  The tone of William’s voice made her know that he thought it completely ridiculous too.  “It’s hard.  I know.  At least we get free food,” she held up a forkful of the marinated chicken breast.  “And good food.  It’s not like it’s airplane food.”

William smiled slightly.  “First thing I do when we get out of here is bring you to Canoe or Ardo or Miku and splurge on every meal they have on the menu,” he said.  

“Sounds good to me.  Maybe by then I’ll have a new job to celebrate, anyway.”

“How’s the article coming along?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said.  She’s started in the other day and already had about 1500 words worth of material.  She figured the best way to go about it was keep a sort of diary every day and then edit it down when she could.  “Might talk about how fucking awkward you hockey boys are these days with women.”

“I’m excluded from that, right?” he asked.  “I mean, I totally swept you off your feet when we first met.”

She couldn’t help but smile.  “You did.”

***

August 3rd, 2020

Aberdeen accompanied the team to one of the workout facilities just so she could catch a glimpse of sone sunshine on the day off.  Instead of working out, she sat on the sidelines of where all the equipment was and the boys worked out, furiously typing away on her personal laptop.  Every so often when she’d glance up, she’d see Morgan’s thighs almost ripping through his shorts as he did some lunges; she’d see Auston’s biceps almost bursting through his sleeves as he lifted weights above his head; she’d see William’s thick torso exposed as his shirt rode up from him throwing a heavy medicine ball above his head.  

A million girls in this city would kill her to be in her position.

And here she was, writing 10,000 words about them instead of ogling them.  Well, everyone except her secret boyfriend.

***

August 4th, 2020

Game 2.  

Aberdeen was confident that the boys would respond to Columbus’s win in Game 1.  She could tell in their energy throughout the day and in the arena they were ready and they were ready to win.  

“Hey Nostradamus,” Brendan called out, winking.  Aberdeen saw Kyle chuckle from behind his mask.  “What’s the score gonna be?”

“Oh shut it,” she shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking to herself.  Except she couldn’t hold her tongue.  “3-0, but this time for us.”

“I believe her!” Kyle piped up.  

Brendan snorted.  “Who’s placing bets?!”

The bell rang and everybody settled down to stand for the anthem.  As the game got underway, Aberdeen could feel rushes of electricity move up her spine every time the Leafs touched the puck.  They were playing phenomenally.  They looked focused, into it, and like a complete team.  It was a night and day difference from Game 1.  Though the first period didn’t have any goals, Aberdeen knew they’d be coming – for the Leafs only.

In the second period Auston scored and Aberdeen jumped out of her seat to celebrate.  And when John scored late in the third period to get a two goal lead, she was even happier.  

Then, with less than two minutes left, disaster hit.  

It was a play behind the net.  Pierre Luc Dubois – the guy from the other day, Aberdeen had learned – basically cross-checked Jake Muzzin, and Jake fell awkwardly, trying to break it, with his head hitting a Blue Jackets player’s leg.  He fell to the ice.  

He wasn’t getting up.  And the referee hadn’t blown the whistle.  

Those fuckers.

“BLOW THE FUCKING WHISTLE!!!” Aberdeen screamed at the top of her lungs, startling Brendan and Kyle.  Her face was turning red.  She was sure she’d been so loud the referee actually heard her, because he finally blew it.  Jake was having a hard time getting up, and then he lay back down.  One of the trainers immediately made his way onto the ice, rushing towards Jake.

The replays began to play from every angle, and Aberdeen watched on the TV screen in the box how his head and neck contorted once he hit the player’s thigh.  She had tears in her eyes as she watched the worst angles.  She looked back out onto the ice to see Jake still lying there.  The trainer was still with him, though more were making their way onto the ice now.  Then, she saw one of the trainers put his hands near Jake’s neck.  They called for a stretcher.  

She bolted out of her seat.

“Aberdeen!” she could hear Brendan call out after her, but she didn’t listen.  She didn’t turn around.  She hurried down to ice level, her mind running a mile a minute, and flashed her credentials to anyone and everyone she needed to, not bothering to stop so they could actually see them.  

By the time she got to ice level, she could hear the distant sound of sticks tapping, letting her know he was being stretched off.  She met all the trainers and the stretcher at the entrance.  “Jake?!” she asked frantically.  

“Aberdeen?” he asked.  

“Are you okay?  Did you break your neck?!”

“I didn’t break my neck.  I can feel my arms and legs,” he said.  Aberdeen let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding in.  “Did it look scary?”

“Is that a joke?” she asked.  “I ran down here the second they called for the stretcher.”

“We’re going to take him to the hospital.  He’s going to have to leave the bubble,” the head trainer informed Aberdeen.  “You need to tell Brendan and Kyle.  Then update us on the protocol of what it will take to get him back into the hotel.”

Before she could acknowledge what was just said, Jake spoke up again.  “Aberdeen?”

“Yeah Jake?”

“You need to call Courtney for me.  Tell her I’m okay,” he said.  “She’s probably worried sick.”

Aberdeen’s heart sunk into her stomach.  Courtney.  “Yeah yeah, of course—”

“—You have her number, right—”

“—We really need to get him to the hospital—”

“—Yeah, I have her number—”

“—Call Courtney, please,” were Jake’s last words before he was stretchered off.

Aberdeen watched until they were out of her line of sight.  For a few moments, the images of what just happened flashed through her mind, and she momentarily forgot about everything.  She felt sick to her stomach.  Jake said he felt okay, but she knew hockey players always just said that.  Morgan had been playing injured for the better part of the year until he actually got injured.  High sticks to the face, lost teeth, blood drawn – these guys just put a bandaid on it and said they were fine.  But this was different.  

When Courtney’s face crossed her mind, she jolted back to life and grabbed her phone out of her pocket, scrolling until she found Courtney’s number.  The phone didn’t even have to ring twice.  “Aberdeen?!” she asked frantically.  “How’s Jake?”

“Hey Court—he’s okay—”

“He’s okay?!”

“Well, they’re bringing him to the hospital right now,” she said.  “But I was able to talk to him because I rushed down to ice level and he told me he was fine and to call you.”

“So you—you were able to talk to him,” Courtney said, her voice much calmer than just moments before.  “You saw him?”

“Yes.  He told me he could move his arms and legs,” Aberdeen informed her.

“Okay.  Okay.  Does that mean he has to leave the bubble though?  I mean can I go visit him?”

Aberdeen cringed.  “I don’t think so,” she said.  As she did, she could hear Luna being fussy in the background and Courtney trying to calm her.  “The NHL has an agreement with Toronto General about potential injuries.  If everything is okay and he comes back into the bubble, all he has to do is pass three negative tests,” she explained, listening to Luna get even fussier.  

“Okay.  Alright.  But they’ll call me, right?”

“Absolutely.  I’m sure Jake will even be able to call you from the hospital.  Our trainers all have their phones on them.”

“Thanks Aberdeen,” Courtney said, and Aberdeen could hear the relief in her voice.  She knew all Courtney wanted was to hear from her husband.  Luna let out a loud cry.  “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye Court,” Aberdeen ended the call.  

Families.  So many of them had families.  So many of them had families that were suffering and making do with a prolonged absence and Aberdeen couldn’t take it.  The players were sacrificing so much to be in the bubble.  And their families were sacrificing so much letting them go into the bubble.  She knew most of them had money – to cope, to do whatever, really – but that didn’t compensate for presence.  That didn’t compensate for having daddy around to play and snuggle with.  

She began to cry as she found herself walking towards the locker room, not even knowing whether or not the game had ended.  She didn’t really care at this point.  All she could think about was Courtney and Luna at home, worrying about Jake as he was being taken to the hospital.  To Aberdeen, nothing else mattered right now.  

She heard some commotion from the locker room and she knew the boys were back in.  She didn’t know how long they’d been back for, and didn’t bother to peek in to see.  She didn’t want to when her eyes were still red and welling up with tears.  Instead, she hid herself around a corner, crouching down with her knees against her chest, wiping at her eyes every so often and trying to control her emotions before having to go in, or getting called by Brendan, or by Kyle, or—

“There you are.”

Well, so much for that.

She looked up from her crouched position and saw Jason looking down at her.  He wasn’t completely undressed – he had all his UnderArmour on – but he was still sweaty from the game and his hair was matted against his head.  She wiped her eyes one last time before getting up.  “Hi.”

“Did you see Jake?”

She nodded.  “He’s okay.  He can feel and move his arms and legs or whatever.”

“Why are you crying?”

She knew he wasn’t asking to be insolent, but did she really have to have to spell it out for him?  “Don’t tell me you’re immune to this shit,” she said.  “I just had to call Courtney and explain to her that her husband didn’t break his neck and end his God damn career.  Luna was crying in the background.  It’s a lot, okay?”

Jason nodded his head.  “I know it is.  I’m not trying to…fuck, I know that came out wrong.  He’s gonna be okay, Aberdeen.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on, Aberdeen,” he said soothingly.  “It’s gonna be okay.”

She shook her head, wiping away the last of her tears.  “I know.  I’m just being a big baby.”

“No you’re not,” Jason said.  “You’re not being a big baby.  You’re being a human being.  Someone you cared about got hurt.  Do you want to talk about it when you get back to the hotel?” he asked.

She considered it for only half a second before she shook her head.  “No.  I know you call your girls every night.  I can’t take time away from them.”

“Aberdeen—”

“I’ll be okay,” she asserted.  “I promise.  I’ll be okay.”

“Aberdeen!” Kyle’s voice suddenly called out.  He rushed towards her with his phone in his hand.  “They took him to the hospital, right?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head, trying to steady her voice and make it seem as professional as possible.  “He’s technically left the bubble, so we have to update the trainers on protocol to get him back into the hotel and how—”

“I’ll handle that with Brendan and Josh,” he interrupted.  “But he was okay?”

“He could feel his arms and legs.  That’s what he told me.  Then he asked me to call Courtney and I did that.”

Kyle nodded his head, looking – really looking – at Aberdeen for the first time in their conversation.  “Were you crying?”

“I’m going to be fine,” was all she said.  

***

“I’m going to come to your room,” William said through the phone in a strained voice.

“Don’t you dare,” Aberdeen chastised him, a new batch of tears having fallen down her face as she lay in bed.  “Don’t you even think about leaving your room, William.”

“Aberdeen, you need me and I need to be with you right now—”

“And you need to stay in your room so you don’t get kicked out of the bubble,” she said sternly.  “I’m being serious, Will.  Don’t come over.”

She watched as he bit his lip and shook his head.  She could see all over his face how conflicted he was.  It was one of the things she loved most about him – to the world, he seemed cool and unemotional and that he didn’t really care about anything or take anything too seriously, but to her, he was the entire range of emotions in one conversation.  He had a heart full of gold and she knew it would always stay that way.  “This is killing me, minskatt,” he whispered, his voice defeated.  “I want to be there for you when you need me.  Always.  I mean…you need me, right?”

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.  She didn’t know where this was coming from, but like some things with William, she felt like it was something that had been on his mind for a while and was only letting out now.  He was still learning to talk to her about his feelings.  He was keeping his promise from February, so she could appreciate that.  “Of course I need you,” she said softly.  “I’ll always need you like you need me.  We’re in this together.  You know that.  But you need to be on this team right now.  You need to help them fight.  This isn’t about me.  It’s about the team.”

“It’s always about you,” William said.  “You still don’t get it, do you?  It’s always about you.”

“Don’t make it about me right now, Willy.  It’s not about me.  It’s about Jake, and the team,” she paused for dramatic effect.  “Make it about me later,” she added, trying to be humourous.

It garnered a small smile from him, and she felt proud of herself.  “I love you, minskatt.”

“I love you too Willy.  Promise me you’ll get some sleep?”

He nodded slightly.  “I promise.”

***

Aberdeen’s iPhone was still in her hands as she woke again from its vibrations.  She jumped at the sensation of being awoken in the middle of the night.  If it was Willy calling her at three in the morning, she was gonna kill him.  

“Hello?” her voice was groggy.

The voice on the other end was not William’s.  “I lived, bitch.”  

***

August 6th, 2020

It wouldn’t be a Toronto Maple Leafs series without some drama, apparently.  And the drama tonight was how the team blew a 3-0 lead, allowing the Columbus Blue Jackets to win 4-3 in overtime, with Pierre-Luc Dubois scoring a hattrick.  That meant the Columbus Blue Jackets were now up 2-1 in the series.

It meant the Leafs could go home tomorrow.

Aberdeen tried not to think about it.  

She didn’t bring it up with anybody as they went back to the hotel, and she knew, judging by the looks on their faces, that they didn’t want to hear about it either.  Nobody would be turning on their TVs tonight, and she doubted they would check the news on their phones, either.  Maybe they’d play video games to take their minds off of it.  Or maybe they’d go right to bed and rest, since they had to do all of this again in less than 24 hours.  Fuck.

Aberdeen took a shower.  She washed her face.  She did her skincare.  She put on a sheetmask.  

Her phone rang.

She knew it was William, so she tucked herself into bed and accepted the FaceTime call.  When he realized that she had a sheetmask on, a smile broke out on his face from ear to ear.  “Nice sheetmask,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

She smiled cheekily and shrugged her shoulders.  “You’re used to it by now.  Shouldn’t come as much of a surprise,” she said.

“I am used to it by now and—oh shit, hold on, I forgot something…” he said, trailing off as he set his phone down so Aberdeen could only see the ceiling in his room.  Knowing William, he probably forgot to turn the light off in the bathroom or something.  But the longer he took, the more Aberdeen became skeptical of his whereabouts.  She barely heard anything on the other end.  “There we are…” she heard his voice.  And then she saw what he had on his face: a sheetmask.  He was still smiling from ear to ear.  “Now where were we?” he asked.

“William!” Aberdeen squealed, letting out giggles she couldn’t hold in at the sight of him.  He looked ridiculous.  It was clearly the first time he’d ever put one on himself.  “What in God’s name are you doing?”

“You love these things!” he tried to justify himself.  “I brought one because I knew I’d catch you at least once in here with one of these things on.  And if we can’t do it together…well, physically, then we can do them together in separate rooms.  Like everything else we need to do.”

Her cheeks flushed red – not that he could see.  He bought sheetmasks and put them on with her.  He gave her time to write.  He encouraged her writing.  He listened to her.  He cared for her.  He was even better than anything she could have imagined in a dream boyfriend.  How did she get so lucky?  How did she let guys treat her like shit before him?  She felt tears well in her eyes.  He was going all out to make the best of the bubble, and she couldn’t be more thankful.  “I love you so much, Willy.”

“I love you too, minskatt.”

“No…I love you Willy.  Like love you love you.  Love you love you love you.  I don’t even have the words…and I’m a writer!  You make me speechless, Willy.  There aren’t enough words in the English or Swedish languages that I can string together that will, like, tell you or show you how much I love you.”

“I get it, minskatt.  Don’t worry.  I feel the same way.”

“I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.”

“I annoyed you enough until I wore you down,” he quipped.

She giggled.  “You seduced me is what I’d call it.”

“I don’t know about that.  If I remember correctly it was you rubbing yourself against my thigh that morning.”

She made a face at him.  He made the exact same face back but crinkled his sheetmask so he had to flatten it with his free hand.  She watched him with complete adulation.  “Willy?”

“Minskatt?”

“Can we listen to our song together?”

William smiled.  He fiddled around with his phone and his ‘Minskatt’ playlist until the familiar chords started playing over the phone, filling the air with the nicest, best, most beautiful sound Aberdeen had ever heard – save for Willy’s laugh, maybe – because she knew this song was about her, about them, and it was still their little secret.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Raise the Stakes, Part 8

I swear, I will wind this one up in the not-too-distant future but I keep kind of thinking of different things to do with it. Bad writer, bad. Finish your work!

You can find the previous bits of the story:

Place Your Bets

Part one two three four five six seven

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC (referenced Jay White x OFC)

Word count: 3,824

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, cursing

You feel like an idiot for actually believing that he was going to talk to you the next day, or that he was going to do anything other than ignore you the way he has since your arrival. If anything, he’s ignoring you harder than ever, or at least taking greater pains to be anywhere around you. If you see him, he’s always moving and with others. The wall between you is so thick you start gaslighting yourself, wondering if you imagined the tryst in your car.

The whole company is buzzing. It’s the last few days before the big Slammiversary show, the peak of their year. The excitement for the show and for finally having a small audience is mingled with the knowledge that every year, there are some surprises. THe bigwigs play their cards close to their chests, which means that the talent and behind the scenes people, yourself very much included, don’t know who could pop out at any moment. New Japan has been frustratingly tight-lipped. It’s supposed to be your job to bridge the gaps between New Japan and Impact but no one will tell you who might be trying to cross those bridges.

Is Nagata coming back? You’ll find out.

Another appearance by Phantasmo? Wait and see.

Tama and Tanga are mouthing off at the Good Brothers all the time on social media. Are they showing up?

It’s like shouting at a wall.

Finlay and Robinson are there, they tell you. Take care of them.

It’s almost more frustrating to hear that because, of course, you’d like to do that but one of them is very determined not to let that happen.

By Thursday afternoon, you’ve done everything you can.

“Take a day off,” Scott Damore, the man tasked with keeping this little beehive running tells you. “Go home and relax. You’ll want to be rested for Saturday.”

You want to tell him there’s no need for you to leave now but your aching back, neck, and head disagree.

“What time do you need me here Saturday?”

“Morning?” He looks surprised. “Just come in an hour or so before the show.”

“But what do you need me to do?”

“Sit in the audience, cheer at the right points, look excited if the camera passes you.”

“That’s it?”

“There’s nothing that needs to be liaised in the middle of a show. Grab a seat, have some fun. Be a fan for a few hours.”

You laugh a little because you can’t remember the last time you were able to just be a fan.

“You do like wrestling, don’t you?”

“I do,” you chuckle. “I just don’t really have the opportunity to indulge that very often.”

“So go home, have a nice dinner and a glass of wine. Do whatever it takes to get rid of that headache that I can see right through your skull. Spend the day in your pajamas playing videogames with teenagers online.”

You rise slowly, thanking him as you move to go.

“Hey,” he calls softly, “you’re doing a great job. Don’t think they’re not going to hear about it in Tokyo.”

It’s such a sweet note to leave on that you’re most of the way home, or to the temporary rental that’s passing for home right now, before you think about the fact that you haven’t laid eyes on David all day. He’s been around, because if he hadn’t been, you’re the one who would have had to field questions about it. But he’s been invisible to you.

You end up taking Scott’s suggestions very much to heart. You order dinner from the Chinese place you’ve become addicted to, watch early episodes of The Walking Dead, and have a couple of drinks until you can feel a warm blanket of sleepiness wrapping itself around you.

And that’s when your doorbell rings.

You grab your phone, although there’s a large part of you that wants to ignore it because it’s a little unnervingly late to be getting callers. But you pick it up just on that off chance, because there’s that sliver of hope that it’s…

“It’s David.” He sounds tired and grumpy but you don’t even care because he’s there, at your door and it makes your heart race. You buzz him in and then just stand in front of your apartment door like a complete idiot until you hear him knock.

As soon as you open the door, though, your heart sinks.

“Seriously?” he snaps, holding your panties up for anyone to see.

“How long does it take you to go through your damn pockets,” you hiss, trying to hide how close you are to crying.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You want me to get a restraining order?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak. “I know it was stupid, I just thought maybe if I left you a little reminder that… I don’t know. I thought that if I could get you back once…”

“You did not get me back. I’ve been lonely and I had a weak moment. And even then I couldn’t bring myself to fuck you.”

“Fine. I misinterpreted and thought it was me you wanted. Happy to have given you a show and a nice warm surface to rub one out.”

He throws your panties on the floor without another word. Now you have a problem. You know perfectly well that the second you let him out of your sight, he’s going to disappear. But the door to your apartment is going to lock automatically if it closes unless you step back inside and adjust it. So if you want to avoid giving him the chance to run away, you have to find a way to reach your discarded panties without allowing the door to close behind you.

Awkwardly, you bend forward but it’s immediately obvious that the offending garment is still out of reach. You try looking at him but he seems amused by your predicament. So you have to get right down on your knees and stretch, all while keeping your foot on the door, which weighs a ton. You’ve never felt less elegant in your life, nor more ridiculous than when you glare up at him. His expression is scornful and amused, but there’s a hint of something else you can see in his eyes. There you are, the bitch who he believes used him, the one who’s been begging for his attention, now on her knees in the most humiliating position.

You grab the scrap of fabric and scramble into a standing position before starting to speak. Unfortunately, you move enough that your foot slips from the door. You flinch as you hear the heavy thud.

“Fuck!” he yelps, loud enough you think the neighbors will show up.

It takes a second for you to register that he stuck his hand up to stop the door from closing and that the full weight of it crashed onto his fingers.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” It’s like every time he gets near you, something awful happens to him.

You push the door open and take his hand, trying to see if there’s any damage. He’s obviously irritated and tries to pull it back but it occurs to you that this could be serious.

“Come on, you have to at least let me put some ice on that.”

“No.”

“You have to. If it swells up, your hand could be screwed up for Saturday.”

He looks positively disgusted as it dawns on him that you’re right but he lets you lead him gently into your apartment.

You take out your ice tray and wrap a few cubes in the dish towel, pressing it softly against his hand. He swats you away and holds the makeshift ice pack himself. There’s a little grunted sound that might be a thank you.

“What even happened?”

“I thought the door was going to lock if it closed, I just tried to stop it. Don’t know why I did that.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, guilt soaking your voice. “I would have been locked out.”

“Boohoo.”

“I’m really sorry about the panties, I just-”

“You’re just a disaster area and I need to stay the fuck away from you. I should have just thrown your little present in your face at the show.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.”

“I’m going to wait a few minutes until I’m sure my hand is ok. I would really appreciate it if you would just not speak for the rest of the time I’m here.”

The look on his face is so pained, so defeated, that you just nod and look at the floor. But you can’t hold it in. The insanity of the situation you’ve put yourself in and the feeling of having him close enough to touch while also being so remote burns through your insides like a wildfire and you just… break.

You let one loud yelp out and then it’s nothing but tears and loud sobbing. He immediately looks up at you and although your vision is blurred, his expression isn’t unsympathetic but that just makes it worse and you cry harder as you try to speak.

“You’re right, you should stay away from me… I thought that if I came here… I thought that if you knew I left him… that I left him for you…”

Your voice breaks up and you have to wipe your face just to keep yourself focused.

“I didn’t think about how bad I am… for you… for whatever… I just wanted…”

You break down in sobs again and you’re just about to go and hide on the balcony until he leaves when it happens. A miracle. He lays the towel on the counter and walks towards you. Even through your tears, you can see that his expression is much softer and that allows you to hold it together until he lays his hands on your shoulders and pulls you just a little closer.

At that point, once again, you lose it, the memory of how that touch felt back before you’d made a mess of everything. He presses you close to his chest, which amplifies the feeling and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, cupping your face with his hand.

You open your eyes a little and he makes a face.

“You’re a mess.”

“I know,” you blurt. “I don’t know why I do the shit I do, it’s just-”

“No, I mean your face… there’s mascara stuff happening. It looks like an oil spill.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, holding back the tears as he uses his sleeve to wipe your face.

“Your hands are freezing.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have another pair with me. Besides, it helps with swelling, remember?”

You laugh a little again, trembling when he holds your face in his hands. For the first time in ages, he doesn’t have any of that vicious resentment in his eyes. It’s almost like the way he looked at you that day you had breakfast in the cafe, just sadder.

He looks at you that way for what feels like a long time, allowing you to regain control of yourself.

“You have really cute ears.”

“Wh- what?”

He smiles. “Your ears. They’re so cute, you have no idea. You always have your hair pulled back or up and I just remember noticing at one point. I’d smile about it all the time when you weren’t looking.”

“How do ears… be cute?” You can’t imagine what he’s talking about and yet the weirdness of the compliment makes it wonderful.

“Come here.” He takes you by the wrist and leads you into the bathroom. He positions you in front of the mirror, standing behind you and pulling you back against his chest. He takes your jaw in his hand and gently turns your head so that you can see the side of your face and your apparently adorable ear.

“You see,” he explains, running his thumb delicately along the outer ridge, “it’s kind of big and round up here, and then it tapers right off into this perfectly proportional little lobe and it looks like a half a heart. So they look like two halves of a heart. I can’t believe you’ve never noticed this before.”

He laughs softly and presses his face against yours, the scrape of his beard on your skin sending shivers through your whole body. His lips touch your cheek so fleetingly that you almost wonder if you’ve imagined it.

“Crying takes it out of you,” he sighs. “Let’s put you to bed.”

You feel numb as he leads you into the bedroom and helps you onto the bed before turning to close your blinds.

“Do you like being back in the States?” you ask, hoping you can stretch out his visit a little longer.

“Yeah, I do. I mean, it’s weird, all the back and forth lately. I swear I think I’m still jet lagged, or I’m just permanently fucked up.”

You smile as he sits down on the side of the bed. He smiles back but he makes no move to touch you or get closer.

“How do you like Impact?”

“I like not working Japanese hours.”

“Damn, I’ll bet. It’s one thing with the wrestlers but they don’t give you guys a break ever.”

You suddenly realize that you don’t want to talk about your work in Japan at all.

“I heard your brother is getting into wrestling too now?”

“Yup. I’m not sure Dad wanted either of us doing this for a living but I guess it really is in the blood.”

He takes your hands and places them on your stomach, very ladylike and demure, and pats them with his.

“You need to get some sleep. I’ll go fight with the door to get out.”

“Tell me a bedtime story?” You try to make yourself sound as cute and harmless as possible and not like some crazed broad desperate to prolong the moment.

“No.”

You pout a little, gratified when you hear him chuckle.

“Ok, once upon a time there was an extremely silly little princess who could never figure out what she wanted. And no one ever seemed to be able to help her decide what that was, no matter how hard they tried. The end.”

You can’t help but give a wry laugh at that. “At least it’s nice to be a princess.”

“Who said I was talking about you?”

You stare at him a long time, trying to figure out how to untie all the knots of what you’ve done. You can’t even imagine. You’re still trying to figure it out when he bends down and touches his lips, very softly, very quickly, to yours.

He pulls back but then almost immediately repeats the gesture. Then repeats it again. And again. He shifts so that he’s hovering over you, continuing to give you these little kisses.

“Stop that,” he rasps.

“Stop what? You’re the one kissing me.”

“Hm. I guess you’re right.” He leans in again. “Stop me.”

“I don’t want to.”

He doesn’t stop.

“Yeah, I don’t really want you to stop me either.”

And from that point, it gets more insistent, more romantic, and more passionate, until you feel him easing your pants down and running his hands over your thighs and ass. Determined that he is not just going to turn this into another resentful mutual masturbation session, you pull at his shirt. He wriggles free of it immediately easing you out of yours.

“How do you manage to run around without a bra on like that?” He squeezes and licks at your breasts with a little wink.

“I’m in my own apartment. I’m allowed to walk around however I want.”

“Yeah. But you don’t always wear one at work either, do you?”

He crashes his mouth into yours, tongue eagerly breaching your lips.

“Don’t think I don’t notice,” he pants.

He slides down and presses his face between your legs before you can think of a witty comeback, and once he does, you can’t think of anything. It’s so intense, so determined the way he goes at this, the way he picks up on every little twitch and tremor in your body, how he paces himself and you enough that it never feels like a rush to a goal. You don’t deserve this. You have no right to have him be this good to you.

You twist your hand in his hair, pulling it loose from the disheveled bun he’s always sporting. The parts of it that were trapped inside are still damp and you tug firmly to make him look up at you.

“Did you shower before you came over here?”

He smiles coyly and presses two fingers inside you, curling them like he’s beckoning you forward, making you moan and twist even as you’re trying to keep your mind focused.

“I shower pretty frequently,” he grins, “what’s it to you?”

He presses his lips close to your clit, allowing his tongue to flick ever so lightly against it.

“I don’t know,” you breathe, trying not to get overwhelmed by what he’s doing, “I like thinking you got yourself all cleaned up and handsome for me.”

You feel the soft vibrations of his laughter as he dives back into you, tongue pushing up inside you and making you scream before you grab at his hair again.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” you whimper.

“Oh I love doing it.”

“I mean I don’t know why you’re doing this to me, when I’ve been so-”

You’re cut off as he goes right back at it, licking and pushing harder for a few seconds before he whispers, “If you had any idea how often I’ve jerked off fantasizing about eating you out, you’d probably stop speaking to me.”

With that he pins you down and continues in earnest, going at you with a zealot’s vigor so that you can’t question him or do anything but scream and beg him to continue what he’s doing until you fall apart, trembling and gasping.

You feel him wriggle out of his pants before he pulls you onto his lap, kissing you and playfully biting at your lips, his arms wound tight around your waist. You run your hand slowly down the length of his shaft, smiling at the little gasp this elicits.

“I want you inside me.”

“Yeah…” the hesitance in his voice terrifies you. “I was… I was hopeful enough to get all showered and freshened up before I came over but I wasn’t so confident that I actually brought any kind of protection with me.”

“I’m on birth control. And I get checked regularly, I swear, I’m-”

He kisses you hard, so passionately that you almost tumble over.

“You sure?” he whispers when he breaks the kiss.

“Very sure.”

He flips you onto your knees and pulls your hips back towards him. As he enters you, you realize that you’d convinced yourself you weren’t ever going to get this again. It’s like a reprieve from prison, feeling him fill you up.

He leans down enough that the feathery tips of his hair brush against the skin of your back, a stark contrast to the powerful hold he has on your hips. There’s an unbroken stream of praises coming from him but all you can think of to whimper in response is, “Thank you.”

“What?”

He slows his pace just a little.

“Thank you,” you repeat. “I didn’t think you’d want to touch me again. I don’t deserve you being this good to me.”

“Oh sweetheart no.” He pulls you up and holds you against his damp chest, one hand immediately falling to your clit while he continues to thrust inside you. “It’s ok, I’ve got you. I want to feel you come again, I want you to come on my cock.”

You let yourself relax into his touch and it takes very little time until he has you falling apart for him again, your muscles contracting sharply around him as he clearly fights to keep control.

He flips you onto your back like you’re nothing and smiles down at your dazed face.

“Let’s do this right.”

He leans down and pushes himself back inside you slowly crushing your body close to his and planting a fierce kiss on your lips. His movements are agonizingly slow, letting you feel every bit of what’s happening, picking up only when you hitch your hips against his. He keeps you wrapped up tight and close, faces practically touching as he finally lets himself come, eyes locked on yours. It’s a long, tender few minutes while he holds you, touching his lips to your forehead.

“I love you.” You just put it out there before the post-coital haze can fade, hoping it’ll stop him from closing himself off again.

“I love you too,” he whispers, nuzzling against the side of your head. “But you knew that already.”

You dig your nails into his shoulders a little.

“Stay with me. Sleep here, please.”

He looks thoughtful but it doesn’t take long for him to smile, stroking your cheek as he does.

“Yeah,” he beams, “I will.”

He rolls onto his side and pulls you close again.

“Did you seriously think I was going to be able to stay away from you forever?”

“Yes. I was pretty sure that you didn’t entirely want to, but I figured you’d fight it off.”

“How long have we known each other?”

“About six years.”

“You were working at the dojo and we all used to hang out together, right?”

“Yes.”

“How long had we been there before I asked you out to dinner?”

“I don’t know. A few months.”

“Closer to four. And I was already so hung up on you that I could barely think straight when you were around.”

You look at him in surprise. Yes, you’d known that he’d flirted a lot, but at that point all the boys at the dojo were trying to scheme their way into your pants. You’d always assumed that his real interest had developed much later.

“Yeah,” he says, noticing your expression, “I was that into you that early. And you know damn well it only got more intense from there.”

He wraps his arms around you and presses your head against his chest, kissing your hair. “And you thought that having finally gotten to take you to bed, having gotten you to say that you liked me, that I was going to be able to walk away?”

You squeeze him tight and nestle against him, your head immediately finding its way to the hollow of his shoulder. And as soon as it does, your whole body feels warm and safe and content. You want to keep talking to him but you can’t because this sort of bliss doesn't allow you to stay awake.

[feckin-zicons]

that's why i hate larries, i hate them with all my heart. besides being boring they are hypocrites 🙄

Hey nonnie, sorry its taken me so long to reply but if you’re following me you know I’ve been travelling lately and have been more scatterbrained than usual. Not that I’m ever not scatterbrained, but its been just a little crazier than usual!

Now I wouldn’t go as far to say I hate Larries. After all their delusions can be pretty funny sometimes!

Joking aside, I don’t hate Larries, I love Larries, I’m a Larry, so I really hesitate to tarry the whole group with the same brush. However I do strongly agree with you that there are those who are complete hypocrites. Nothing annoys more more than when Larries ™ treat the other boys, other celebrities, their friends and even family as one more side character to the Larry Show.

In particular when Larries ™ flood comment sections asking or in some cases, ordering people to confirm rumors/the couple being together. The absolute fucking disrespect. Not just because they’re flooding comment sections in videos streams, tweets, what have you, that sometimes have nothing to do with the couple in question, but because its presumptuous and rude as fuck to think they’re owed a coming out- just because they’re fans of the boys.

Stop it. Thats fucking ugly as hell.

While I have no doubt all the boys will one day be out (as referenced by their continued efforts in fighting the closet. I don’t get the sense the boys will just stop at being freed from their contractual obligations). It should and will be on their own terms. Provided they’re not forcibly outed some other way.

Coming out is a deeply personal experience and no one, no one ever, has the right to out someone else. I’ll never not be absolutely furious at the Larries ™ who posted about having ‘receipts’ that would out the boys. Which… tbh weren’t receipts at all but thats a whole other story. I’m also still angry at the reactions after Liams Attitude spread that wouldn’t have been as bad if not for the entitled fandom that peddled ridiculous claims beforehand about Liam confirming Larry to be real.

I mean… What the actual fuck. Setting aside the fandom experience of the time, and boy was it an experience. What right would Liam have confirming Louis and Harry’s relationship? I mean, get some perspective? It doesn’t help that a lot of fandom adults were the ones coming up with, and reblogging those theories and the younger fans ate it up. It would have made more sense for Louis and Harry to do it but idk maybe I’m still out of touch for thinking so. I mean, it felt like every other week someone was talking about Larry coming out. It was such a shit storm oh my god.

Biggest issue I still have with them is that the entitled behaviour hasn’t stopped. For some it seems like, Larry coming out is it for them. Like pack it up, goodbye, shows over, Louis and Harry are gay and in a relationship and everything is rainbows, we get to see cute pictures of them and everyone lives happily ever after.

Yeah, no. Coming out, for anyone, is just the beginning, can’t even begin to imagine what its like for them. They’re still going to need everyones support, and it irritates me that for some fans it seems so fucking conditional.

Time and time again, I’ve seen tweets, and posts, and videos, whatever, going on about Larry coming out and it reads like a fucking wattpad story. Not just that but its always on the assumption by the poster, on the off chance they consider the other 3/5ths of the band and Ziam being a possibility, that Larry will come out first?

What?

I’m sorry but, what?

Everything I’ve seen from the boys tells me they’re all in this together, they support each other and are working through the bullshit as a team. We have all seen the No Judgement music video yes? The merch, posts, double speak etc referencing each other, yes?

I mean, I suppose if you only look at Louis and Harry, like so many do, sure. Only Larry matters, everyone else is a side character in their life.

(Lemme just, scream for a second).

However, that kind of thinking leads them to the wrong conclusions. Like… assuming the SBB/RBB countdown was attributed to nothing, when it counted down to Liam finally being free of Sophia. In the years since, I’ve seen Larries ™ backtrack on claiming the bears had anything to do with the boys, that they weren’t behind it at all, or that they were just trolling the fandom.

You know, despite all the proof otherwise, and some really, really good posts breaking down clues about what the boys were trying to tell us. The moment something might not actually be about Louis and Harry its like all their thinking shuts off. Its frustrating. Really fucking frustrating.

Seriously, fans of the other boys as individulas, not just Ziams, have been talking about the stunts too and how they fit together. Its why we tend to be right, because we’re considering the entire group. They’re still a group. They’re not free until all of them are free.

Just for that Nialls coming out first. Lmao. I’ll call it now. Lets go Niall, whens the baby coming. We all wanna know. Its been years.

Imagine, imagine! Acting like coming out is some race to be won. The fucking audacity.

Go outside and touch fucking grass you absoulte ninny.

I get it, you want to be vindicated, you want to be rewarded for putting your faith in two celebrities being together.

Newsflash you dandelionfluff, its not a race, Louis and Harry coming out isn’t a fucking prize. Thats not what supporting a relationship looks like.

Its worse when someone admits they don’t know much about Ziam or the possibility of Niall being LGBT+, and claim they’re open to it, but then immediately tweet or reblog or sub tweet or tag comment a post or answer an ask from another Larry ™ talking about how Larries ™ are the most marginalized and persecuted group.

???

In what fucking world?

IN WHAT FUCKING WORLD?

If we wanna play that game, boohoo, the media claims Louis and Harry aren’t friends anymore because of crazy shippers. Meanwhile Zayn publicly isn’t friend with anyone and “left” the band… despite the Ziam fandom calling the stunt about either Louis or Zayn “leaving” and getting it down to the exact week (the second article coming out a week before about the Ziam kiss pretty much cemented it for Zayn leaving. Which did a lot to fan the flames of the already rabid fanbase when Ziam got two articles confirming a Ziam kiss over the years and Larry got nada. Like that actually means anything).

Not to mention Larries ™ using the hetties and management tactics against the other parts of the fandom to silence them.

Who cares what the media says anyway!  TPTB, 1DHQ, The Sun, The Mirror, Simon and his minions and their unpaid interns have used the media to split the fandom apart and it worked.

Who the fuck cares if the media calls the 1D stans delusional, you know the truth! The truth it out there and you’ve seen it! The truth is coming! Who gives a damn about what some two bit “journo” who failed out of their creative writing course writes? They get worse by the year. If it wasn’t so pathetic and hilarious I might actually feel embarrassed for them. They can’t even come up with new stories and have just taken to copying old articles, but you’re upset with them??? Give it a rest. Honestly.

The sense of disconnect, entitlement and victimhood of some Larries ™ is absolutely ridiculous.

Oh my god they’re Karens. I’m not trying to be insulting, but thats exactly who they remind me of.

I’m not going to say its a surprise to me that so many in the Ziam fandom are POC, LGBT+, and Neurodivergent and any combination of those, but I am going to say I’ve read a lot of Larry fics that just have Het sex made gay. Those in the Ziam fandom just tend to look at facts in a different way than Larries do due to their life experiences. A interfaith, interracial, relationship where one or both partners fall under the Bi umbrella (not saying Louis or Harry can’t be or aren’t Bi+ but rumors, and the way the fandom markets them, puts them firmly in the gay category) looks very, very different than gay or straight relationship. Both looking from outside and being in one. There’s just different dynamics at play that aren’t often realized or understood by the gays and hets.

Its not a bad thing. All relationships are different. The issue is that theres a lot of biphobia/racism/religious prejudice etc that arises from people being unwilling to understand the inherent differences.

Taking myself for example, I’m bi, like, bi as hell, and I don’t understand how gays and hets only like one gender. I just don’t. Can’t wrap my head around it. If someone asks me to choose one gender over the others to prefer I can’t. Its so stressful. My brain goes into panic mode and it feels like I’m being torn apart. My sense of identity is shaken- its a shit feeling. I just can’t lie to myself like that. If other people feel the same well, its no wonder bi+ have such high rates of depression and suicide. Its not about choosing who to like, there is no choice, I just feel attraction to everyone. Aces, I get. Its similar to being the opposite of what I feel, or not feeling an attraction to someone I’m not interested in. Easy. Gays and hets? I’m completely lost on.

Completely, and I know I’m not the only one who feels that way. But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try and understand where they’re coming from. Its alien to me, personally, but I’m not going to shut down the fact, that theres a fuck ton of people who only like one gender or try and make up reasons as to why they’re actually bi+

I digress, none of the boys fall neatly into the gay stereotypes, its just that parts of the Larry fandom have boxed Louis and Harry into certain roles to fit preconceived notions (likely do to them initially fitting in better with the white, sassy, somewhat effeminate twink thats been plastered all over Hollywood as their “LGBT+ representation” for years. Gag), they can understand better, and only look for proof to back up their theories but don’t look at things objectively.

They really need to get out more and make some LGBT+ friends that aren’t on the internet and talk to some gay elders. They need educating that’s not the often sanitized and insulting Hollywood version, that’s all I’m saying.

They made Louis and Harry more palatable for themselves and its… really gross.

I don’t know, I don’t get it.

Some Larries ™ turned the boys into their fandom and fanfiction stereotypes when they’re so much more than that. The Sony leaks should have been enough to dissuade the fandom, and prove that the brand sold to the broader audience is just that- a brand, and yet… Niall only talks about food and golf and Ireland and is only allowed to be straight or ace. If he exists at all its just to be Capt Niall. Liams slow and dumb and depending on the day he’s either Capt Liam or a horrific abusive homophobe. Zayns just The Worst, a unstable drug addict, and the boys hate each other, and they should have kicked him out of the band sooner because he never wanted to be part of them anyway, etc.

It drives me absolutely around the bend some days. They’re real people who don’t owe anyone anything, especially not coming out.

Yes, I think they will. But they’re not obligated to. They can change their minds, I’ll support them regardless of an “official” coming out or not.

Look, a part of me gets it. They wanna be right, they wanna prove the haters wrong, they want to be able to say I called it all along! The vindication will be sweet.

But like, it takes a quick look at someone other than Louis and Harry to realize theres something hinky going on with Liam, Zayn and Niall. Please listen to their fans who have spent just as much time as you have looking into Louis and Harry compiling together evidence.

It might take a weekend to watch the ILYSM and pterodactyl bros videos and a few more hours looking into some Niall blogs, which isn’t much compared to the hours I know they’ve spent looking into Larry. At least then they’ll have enough information to form an opinion on things.

I wonder, for some, what would happen if Larry didn’t come out, or didn’t come out first, or one of the other boys was outed against their will. Because… I don’t know. It seems like some would rather just be proven right at this point.

I get it. We’re tired. Its been eleven long years. But this isn’t a television show were everything can come to a head with a s3 or s4 cliff hanger and fixed in the series finale. Its real life, and they started off as boys trusting industry veterans who never had their best interests at heart.

Iduno. I just want some Larries ™ to take a step out of the echo chamber, realize life isn’t The Larry Show & co. And especially. ESPECIALLY, that every instance were someone, friends, family, co-works, industry peeps etc support the boys they are SUPPORTING THE BOYS, NOT THE FANDOM. They are not “confirming Larry for the fans” they’re doing it to support the couple, not to cater to the fandom. Please stop confusing the two. There’s a huge fucking difference. Learn it.

[aftaglow]

afterglow plays headbandz headcanons

tsugu first spots the game while shopping with himari, and the two decide to buy it because it was something new and exciting that also reminded them of their days playing mousetrap as kids

afterglow first plays it at a sleepover at ran’s house

ran is a bit reluctant to get set up because she thinks wearing a headband with a card on it was a bit embarrassing. in response, moca jokes “it’s only a fashion accessory if you want it to be~”

ran’s finally convinced to get in on it after tomoe tells her that it doesn’t really matter because they’d all look ridiculous together, tsugu tells her that it wouldn’t be any fun if anyone is left out, and himari begs her to play a game with her friends “just like old times”

after everyone gets set up with their headband, himari suggests taking a selfie together. the rest of afterglow makes fun of her for the rest of the night for forgetting that taking a selfie would show everyone their cards

when the rules say that the tallest starts, tomoe obviously goes first. however, she gets pretty loud when she feels like she’s getting close to the answer or when she’s frustrated

tsugu’s a bit worried about tomoe waking someone up, and ran’s embarrassed at just starting the game but already having that possibility

tomoe also drums her fingers on her knees and/or walks around when she’s asking questions about her card and doesn’t want to stop doing either because “it helps me think”

himari would be really good at guessing famous people and places, but she has the luck of getting an object on her headband every. single. time.

tsugu has a list of questions she always runs through in order and it’s really good at leading her to the correct answer

moca always compliments tsugu’s tsugurificness when she gets to the correct answer really quickly

sometimes when ran gets a card of a famous person on her headband, the rest of afterglow thinks about whether she’ll know who it is or not and occasionally switch her card

not being too involved on social media can do that to ya, but sometimes afterglow overestimates and ran feels a bit awkward when she sees her card was someone very well-known

moca’s first questions were “can i look at my card?”, followed by “does anyone have a mirror i can borrow?”

moca talks a bit faster than she usually does, but she’s still not rushing to fit in as many questions as she could within the 1-minute period allotted

moca’s really good at guessing what an object is from hardly any clues, but she also sneaks in a lot of questions completely unrelated to the game because she finds it fun

so there’s a bunch of situations like “does moca deserve 10 extra buns from yamabuki bakery tomorrow?” “y-nO” as well as “can i trade cards with ran?” “MOCA-”

himari’s choosing a new card to give moca and starts having a giggle fit as she puts it on moca’s headband. everyone joins in, and ran asks “but can we even give this one to her…?”, prompted by tomoe saying “maybe we shouldn’t, but if it’s too obvious, then…” moca cuts in with “is it bread?” and everyone laughs even harder because moca got it right before the timer even flipped

it’s not counted because she guessed it when the timer wasn’t running, and tsugu explains this to moca as she gives moca a new card to actually guess, but moca still grumbles about it

tsugu had the lead for the whole game and is eventually the one who wins, but everyone plays until they guess their card, and as a result, himari’s able to get in the selfie that she wanted before

ran says that she has to attend to something before they do anything else, but when she comes back, she’s quietly carrying the box for mousetrap

[infernwetrust]

March Madness [Jim Mason x Xavier Plympton]

Summary: Xavier decided that for this year’s March Madness [College Basketball], he wants Jim’s attention more than ever. 

Warnings: smut, oral sex, mentions of drug use, drug use, apply more as you see fit. 

WC: 2.6k

A/N: Am I the only one who thinks aside from surfing that Jim would be really big into sports? Thanks for reading! -Juno

Jim sat on the couch, beer in his hand, jaw clenched as he tried to focus on the March Madness game in front of him. You see, March Madness was a special time for Jim. A recent college graduate two years year ago, he was a big fan of college basketball. His school, Duke, of which he was now a proud alumni, was playing Yale. Class of 2017, Jim was. Him and his college buddies got together every year , freshman through senior to watch the games. This was their first year apart. But, he couldn't keep focus when Xavier was desperately begging for his attention.

The two had been the best of friends growing up, having met online on some stupid 3D chatting game their freshman year of high school. They talked almost everyday, eventually getting each other's Skype information because they both wanted to put a face to who they were talking to everyday. And when Jim laid eyes on Xavier for the first time he couldn't help but tell him how cute he is and how he loves his blonde hair and his blue eyes. And quite the surprise for Jim, Xavier reacted the same way, but complimenting all of Jim's features head to toe as Xavier shy'd away from nothing. They left their 3D world for Skype, got each other's numbers and all the social media.

Parents were introduced over Skype, both sets being concerned to the lack of their sons appearance with the family and they all grew to love each other. When Xavier heard about Jim's parents divorce a few years later, he was there, throughout all the crying, throughout Jim's rampant drug use. No matter how gone he was, Jim made sure he saw Xavier's face before he passed out. He saved up enough money to finally visit PV by the end of his Junior year and that's when they started dating. When he met Jim's sister Medina, they instantly hit it off, becoming just as close. Xavier learned a lot about Jim as did Jim about Xavier. They knew what made each other tick, all the favorites, all the non-favorites, all the turn ons and turn offs, the allergies, you name it, they knew it. Despite the distance, as Jim decided Duke was the best for him, and Xavier decided that UCLA was the best for him, they made it work. The occasional campus visit every now and then was something they also did. And with a little bit of luck, they had their own little apart in the heat of downtown LA shortly after graduating college. Jim would do anything to stay the fuck away from PV and when Xavier came to him with the idea of getting their own place over FaceTime one night, how could Jim say no? At that point he didn't care what else everyone thought about it, aside from Medina who encouraged him to.

A few months after they had moved in together, Jim cut off all contact with his mother and father, blocking their numbers and everything else they could find him on and encouraged Xavier to do the same, especially when it came to his mother. Xavier really only kept in contact with his dad and step mother, not really wanting to talk about his biological mom for all the hell she put him through. The two found the most comfort in each other and that's all that mattered. They had their little groups of friends they made from college and they'd hang out every so often, but nothing compared to being at home, lost in each other.

Xavier, who was fresh out of the shower, walked into the living room, towel draped around his waist, taking a seat next to Jim on the couch, but laying his head in his lap and as he laid on his back on the couch, unlocking his phone and scrolling through his Instagram. His hair was still a little damp, leaving just a small pool on Jim's college sweats, but of course he didn't mind. Xavier had missed Jim who was gone all last month, visiting his sister Medina who had moved to New York City. Every march he would miss Jim too because that's all Jim focused on, was the basketball games. By the end of them he would be too tired. Quickies were the most Xav would get out of Jim.

Jim was already extremely attracted to his partner both physically and mentally. Any time Xavier was present in the room a fire burned within him. And now here he was across his lap, body glistening, the smell of Irish Spring and minty fresh tooth paste filled his nostrils. He inhaled sharply, using his free hand to place on Xavier's chest. He rubbed it up and down, knowing that drove him insane. Xavier chewed on his lip, pretending not to be affected by Jim's touch, but his chest was rising and falling faster. He chewed on his bottom lip, eyes still glued to his phone.

Physical contact was something that Jim needed and Xavier knew that. It made him always feel closer to X. If they sat together in public, they're knees were always touching, or Jim would casually place his hand on Xavier's thigh. At home it was always free reign. If Xavier was typing away on his computer at their kitchen island, Jim was there, arms wrapped around him as he rested his head against his back. If Jim sat watching tv like how he is now, Xavier was either next to him, knees touching, Jim's arm wrapped around his shoulder or completely laid out across his lap, asleep. They held hands all the time when they were out, not caring about the scrutinizing looks they'd receive from some people. Jim always stepped up when he had to and he wasn't afraid to get physical. Jim would remind them that's is 2019 and that he doesn't give a fuck what they think.

Despite his dominance in the bedroom, Jim loved being the little spoon. Most of the time he ended up completely on top of Xavier in his sleep, leading to a morning of lazy sex as the two dry hump each other, half asleep. Jim glanced down at Xavier, noticing his red eyes.

"High without me?" he asked, frowning a little bit. Xavier looked up at him, blue eyes surrounded by red streaks.

"I hung out with Chet and Ray today." he said. "You know what happens when we hang out. Plus I figured you would be smoking all while you were watching your games." Jim stayed silent, returning his eyes to the tv, taking a big sip from his beer. "I can always smoke again with you, baby."

"I don't want you to be too high."

"No such thing as too high as much as we smoke Jim." Xavier said, sitting up and looking at his boyfriend, shirtless, in sweats, hair a mess, staring at the tv. "Come on. Do you want to?" Jim turned his head to look over at Xavier who awaited his response. Smoking marijuana was something that had also brought the two closer together. It was more than just high sex. It was the interesting conversations or the ridiculous jokes. It was the endless amounts of cuddles and soft kisses as the two rode out their high, bodies floating as they sat or lay wherever.

"Yeah.." Jim mumbled at first, speaking louder. "What did we buy again?"

"Northern Lights or Mimosa Cookies."

"Northern Lights. You know I don't like Sativa before bed."

"I knooooow." Xavier sauntered out of the living room and down the hallway to their bedroom, quickly returning with his purple galaxy rolling tray and a container of weed. He plopped back down onto the couch, next to Jim. "Do you want to roll it?"

"No, you roll them better." They actually rolled them about the same. He just liked to watch Xavier roll. The way his fingers delicately broke down the cigarrillo, disposing of the tobacco in it. The way he licked the inside of the broken down wrap to get it moist enough for the weed to stick and for it to seal. Evenly packing it, he'd roll it between his fingers, bringing his teeth and lips ever so gently down on the wrap to pull it over itself. Tuck and roll. Tuck and roll. And then he'd dry it out a little bit with the flame from his disco lighter. And when he rolled joints, how he'd crumple the paper first before laying the weed down on it. How he'd roll it and tear the gum lining clean off with his teeth.

"Want the to do the honors?"

"You know it." Jim took the blunt out of Xavier's hand, putting it in between his lips, lighting it up and taking a deep inhale followed by a short exhale through his nose. As Jim loved to watch Xavier roll, Xavier loved to watch Jim smoke. He took a few more hits before passing the blunt to Xavier. They passed back and forth for about 30 minutes, really taking the time to let their new high set in.

"Care to go again?" Xavier asked, taking a huge swallow from his water bottle. "I wish there was smoking, but without the cotton mouth."

"No, I'm content." Jim answered. "And you and me both." He had cracked opened another beer from the cooler that he always kept next to him during game. Duke was up by 2, much to Jim's annoyance, but he was too stoned to get off the wall angry like he usually does about these games. He went to take a drink, missing his mouth by just an inch, pouring some of the contents on himself.

"High much?" Xavier questioned, raising his eyebrow and giving Jim a smirk.

"Maybe just a little bit." Jim responded, looking down at the mess he made, chuckling a little bit. "I'm gonna go get my towel."

"No, you don't have to do that."

"But I don't want to sit here getting sticky?"

"Who said anything about being sticky?" Jim, too high to catch on, shot Xavier a confused look, but that look quickly turned into pure lust when Xavier leaned over him, tongue slowly gliding across his chest, down to his stomach, leaving a few soft kisses behind too as he cleaned up the mess Jim made all over himself, but he didn't stop there. He reached between Jim's legs, grabbing a handful of him, semi-erect. "No underwear, Mr. Mason?"

"I'm in my own house, Mr. Plympton." Jim said, jaw clenched together, tight as Xavier just held onto him. Jim never wore underwear, underneath his shorts, sweats, or jeans whenever the two were home alone and Xavier knew that. He did it for reasons just like this, but never expected Xavier to be so forth coming during March Madness.

"Hmmmm." Xavier hummed as he began to rub Jim through his sweats. Jim let out a sigh of ecstasy as he threw his head back. He let his hands work their way into Xavier's hair, tugging at it a little.

"You know better than to distract me from one of the most important games in history, right?"

"Why do you have to allow yourself to get distracted? Just relax..." And that's how Xavier got most of what he wanted out of Jim. His voice was laced with his intoxication and need for Jim. It was low, seductive, persuasive, charming. "Just let me worry about you and you worry about Duke vs Yale, yeah?" Jim just simply nodded, as Xavier pulled his sweats down and watched as he cock sprung free, slapping against his stomach a few times before it finally settled. "Excited?"

"Mmmmph, suck me..." was all Jim managed to get out, his eyes darting back and forth between the TV and Xavier. Xavier giggled, giving Jim's beautiful pink tip a warm kiss as it laid against his stomach before fully taking Jim into his mouth, tongue swirling as he did.

"Fuck..." Jim sighed as he gently ran his hand through Xavier's hair, massaging his head as he did so. "You're so spoiled aren't you? Knowing that I can't resist you at all, no matter, fuck, hard I try." And Jim wasn't wrong. All Xavier had to do was send him a couple naughty word text messages and a simple picture and Jim, only sometimes, was out of his last class 10 minutes early, back in his dorm, and on Skype with him, getting off to the little show that Xavier put on for him.

"Mhmmm." was all Xavier said, mouth full of Jim. Jim shivered as the vibration rippled throughout his cock and body. In response, X picked up the pace, wet noises filling the room. It didn't take long for Jim to become a moaning mess from the warm wetness of Xavier around him. Pop. He popped Jim out of his mouth, doing that a few times because he knew it set Jim off.

"Fuck, you're so good." Jim said, basically out of breath. "So fucking good, so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth." Xavier's bulge was aching against the couch, wanting to Jim to fill his other hole, but not here, he wanted Jim in the bedroom. After giving Jim a few more good pops he put him back in his mouth and all the way down his throat, holding Jim there and giving him the opportunity to take control and he did, gladly. Grabbing a fist full of X's hair once again he thrusted his hips upwards, breathing heavily as he did so.

"Want me to fuck your throat?" Jim asked. "Hmmm?" Xavier nodded around him, sneaking his hand under himself  just so he could rub at his aching hard on. He didn't have to tell Jim twice before he started thrusting in and out of his throat and Xavier took it like a champ. He gripped Jim's thighs, digging his nails into them as Jim sped up, his moans getting louder and louder by the minute. Using his other free hand, Xavier grabbed Jim by the throat, giving it a tight squeeze. He knew Jim loved to be choked the closer he got to his orgasm.

"Harder." Jim said. "Choke me harder." And so he did, the speed at which he fucked in and out of Xavier's throat, now relentless. "Ohhhhh... fuck... X...."

"Mmmmmmmmmm." Xavier hummed around his dick again. Not a single tear left his eye. Not a single gag left his throat. He was such a fucking pro.

"Fuck... Fuck... babe... Im gonna"

Jim let go, all the way let go , down Xavier's throat and he swallowed all of it, popping Jim out of his mouth as the final tease.

"God, I love you."

"I love you too, Jim." Xavier said, standing up with his towel still wrapped around his waist. Jim's eyes immediately found the bulge that was about to make his towel drop off his waist if it got any harder.

"You look like you need some help. Why didn't you let me take care of you too?"

"Your game, remember?" Xavier said, pointing to the TV, but Jim wasn't even paying attention to that. He stopped trying the moment Xavier started popping him in and out of his mouth.

"Honestly." Jim began. "Fuck this game right now."

"Whaaaaat? Jim Mason saying fuck March Madness while his school is absolutely dominating Yale right now?" Xavier questioned.

"Oh so you've got jokes?"

"But..." Xavier began, pulling his loosely wrapped towel from around his waist and letting it drop to the floor. He was leaking so much pre-cum and it made Jim so happy how horny he made him. "If you want this party continue... and you don't mind filling a second hole..." Xavier turned around so that his bare ass was on full display for a drooling Jim. "Then you know where to find me, Jim Mason."

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @theneverendinghunger

[uwua3]

Your writing is amazing! Like honestly! ✨ Can I request some yuki dating headcanons like with an s/o. If not I understand have a great day! 😊

thank you so much ♡ can i just say i love your support and enthusiasm for my writing 🥺 i always see you liking/replying to my posts and i am In Love With You i swear *thousands of hearts* thank you for everything~ but yes, of course! one super soft yuki hc coming up right away!!!

summary: yuki was yours and only yours, and he wanted to make sure everyone knew

author’s note: this was so sweet, it gave me multiple cavities! i’m sorry if it’s awkward, i’m not too experienced in the art of ~ love ~ even though i’m such a hopeless romantic! hope this was cute enough :D

i hope everyone knows relationships don’t make you whole, you are your own person. your s/o can help you improve to be the best version possible, but you are just as unique and interesting as an individual, never forget that ♡

word count: 1,803

music: Q&A – seventeen ft. ailee, hold your hand – lee hi

couple outfits.

🌻👘 rurikawa yuki

yuki didn’t just date anybody, let’s make that clear. in fact, yuki never dated anyone before you!

yuki liked you, so, so much. before he said anything, it physically hurt him to be so distracted by your presence when he had so many responsibilities

(it also hurt tenma when backstage, yuki forgot what he was doing and didn’t look where the needle was going when he became too entranced)

(“you idiot! stop staring at them for one second!” tenma yelped, not seeing yuki’s embarrassed blush before the two got caught in a petty argument once again. obviously, you had to play peacemaker)

but yuki was scared every time you looked at him and saw your stupid smile. you seemed so happy around him, and yuki could tell the signs before you even knew

you had to like him romantically, your hugs lingered and personality was made of sugar only around him

you were so obvious, you liked him and he was scared of messing everything up. it was so rare to find a good friend like you, was it worth it to risk everything?

before he even knew it, yuki was preparing a rejection because no person could come between him and his work (at least, that’s what he tried to reason it with)

but every time you looked at yuki, with all the affection in the world, he didn’t have the heart to say it

maybe, yuki didn’t want to say something he didn’t believe in

so the best solution was if he avoided the topic, you guys would be friends forever and nothing would have to go wrong

so when he confessed out of no where, yuki slapped his hands over his own mouth because he was such an idiot (for once)

you two were buying fabrics for the next mankai production, yuki happily browsing the store with the increased budget

yuki practically pulled you to the secluded corner, convincing you the store’s hidden gems were always in the piles of boxes about to be donated

when you found a discarded silk scarf hidden amongst the mixture, you looped it around your own neck and pretended like you were ali–baba, reciting the lines from water me! to get his attention

(you helped yuki practice his lines in the script so you were practically an understudy)

yuki already started ignoring your ridiculous tactics, about to tell you to shut up and help him find the perfect material when he turned around—you had it!

yuki rushed forward, unintentionally pulling you in close as he inspected the fabric’s qualities, not realizing how you were invading his personal space

“how did you even find this, you must be my...” yuki stumbled on his words, looking up to see you staring at him with such unmasked fondness, it made him become flustered

“your what?” you questioned, playfully smiling as you leaned forward, causing yuki to automatically pull back

(silly yuki! he forget he still had a death grip on the scarf as you followed him forward, holding out your arm on the wall nearby to prevent you two from falling)

yuki flinched, expecting the impact of the ground but opened his eyes to see you were leaning over him and was trapped between your arms

a beat of silence passed. yuki was about to let go before you moved in closer, innocently tilting your head as you had a cat–like cheshire grin

“tell me i’m yours, yuki~” you giggled, watching the way his face immediately turned red. any other person, he’d push off without a doubt. but he liked that you teased him so much, that you were so affectionate and open to him

yuki wish he didn’t like you so much

he knew you were joking, but,

yuki really did like you so much

“you’re mine. i want you to be mine.” yuki admitted, his expression forming one of shock as if he couldn’t believe what he said. how could he just confess that?! yuki shut his mouth, still against the wall as you blinked once. twice.

it didn’t take long before you fell back from laughter, bruising yuki’s ego as he crossed his arms and looked away, embarrassed

this is what he got for trying to be spontaneous and “in the moment”. yuki didn’t know what to expect, was he ready for this?

wait... what if he’s been reading all the signs wrong? oh my god, what if you didn’t even see him that way?!

“aish... don’t laugh... you’re so—” yuki felt the scarf get yanked around his wrist like a lasso and before he could react, it was you who pulled him in close this time

his hands landed on your shoulders, trying to balance himself but you kept him steady, putting your arms around his waist as you grinned like a little kid

“i like you, too.” you confessed, overwhelmed with happiness as yuki felt the same

yuki smiled and closed the distance, feeling like you two were in your own world

the fabric store was forever his favorite now, because it was the place he 1. found the perfect silk material for a costume (every time), 2. kissed you for the first time, and 3. had his first relationship start

from that point forward, you two entered a relationship full of mutual respect, care, and even love later on

(yuki said it first, surprisingly enough. but this time, it was on purpose)

yuki fantasized about being the dream couples he saw online in his pinterest board, reblogging couples outfits and creating a private folder he gazed at every once in a while

when you discovered this, you intentionally showed up wearing the same color scheme as yuki and the rest was history

once yuki saw you were just as excited and giddy to appear as a couple, yuki put his sewing skills to work as he made custom pieces he knew you’d love

you name it, you probably got it: matching berets with your signature color, pretty hair ribbons and bows, and for anniversaries/special events, yuki would work day and night to craft the outfit of your dreams

yuki loved expressing his affection through gifts because it was personally difficult to say he liked you without sounding like his default sarcastic state

every day was valentine’s day, by the way

so showing up with a huge, perfectly wrapped box or bag with colorful tissue paper that always correlated with the gift wasn’t out of the norm, yuki loved spoiling you~ (lucky you!)

if yuki saw something in the window on his way home that reminded him of you, he bought it without a second thought and watched your eyes lit up (so worth his empty wallet)

if yuki found a teddy bear that was the embodiment of all things soft and lovely, it was already at your door step with a handwritten letter he would never admit to writing

everything that made him happy started reminding yuki of you (you had to directly tell him to stop to prevent him from going broke)

any time yuki went out shopping, he took you because he liked seeing what your interests and dislikes were

yuki was very thoughtful and considerate, always paying attention to how you reacted to certain things outside of the fashion world as well

but you also watched him closely as well, and it allowed yuki to reveal his more vulnerable, insecure side when he found out you didn’t judge him and even, understood him

you also practiced doing couple’s PDA with him when you noticed how scared he got

you would initiate hand–holding, hugging, and doing small things like bending down to tie his shoes or any ribbon he had on his outfit; just casual contact to get him used to gentle touches that were more than just friendly now

it took a while, but yuki started returning the favor by fixing the accessories in your hair and even wore this tacky tenma bracelet you bought for him as a gag gift

(he hated it and the way tenma looked like some egotistical maniac, but it made you laugh every time. it was worth it) (maybe tenma’s dumb face was good for something)

it was also nice to hear genuine, real compliments everyday. you make it your goal to remind yuki of the small details you loved on his outfit, or how soft his hair was, and the way he presented himself just to show your attention was all his when you two were together

yuki would grow to trust you with his whole heart, feeling his own heart become candy because you were just so sweet

you stole his heart and never gave it back, and it was lovely to know you were taking great care of it and truly treasured him for him

between the two of you, you taught yuki how to trust and rely on other people despite his independent complex as he often put on a strong front

yuki would go to you first if he had a problem, which was hard at first but he got into the habit because he wanted to show you he cared

yuki would text you frequently asking about your day (newsflash, he actually does want to know) and would send you updates of any piece he was working on

you understood yuki prioritized his seamstress career and always proudly spammed his social media posts with heart emojis and adoring compliments

(he always had to hide and cover his face with his hands because he was so grateful you were so proud) (he never told you that, though)

even though he’d instantly get flustered and tried to deny them, you helped him believe them more and more everyday until he could confidently take anything on in the world

(“if my partner thinks it’s cute, i’m cute!” yuki loudly said to the mirror, hearing your laugh the next room over. oops)

you guys didn’t have to talk every single day, though, don’t get me wrong. you two always wanted the best for each other and defined healthy boundaries to allow both of you to flourish and prosper!

yuki, at first, always apologized for spending time on certain projects but you never accepted them, instead encouraging him even more and praising his work ethic

yuki still sent you links throughout the day of things to try and cute outfits he’d love to see you in

it was so thoughtful that throughout the day, you were always on his mind even if he was busy

but no matter what, you two always supported one another through your endeavors and did everything 100% with each other’s best interests at heart

you really liked yuki, and he liked you back just as much, maybe even a little more

(okay, definitely a lot more)

[iam93percentstardust]

Thanks for Watching part 3

Hey everyone! Yesterday, I reached 1000 followers! I’m a little shocked and a little in awe and I certainly never thought I would have this many so thank you for following and listening to my ramblings. I have a couple things planned for this milestone but I don’t have the time to talk about all of them right now, so for now I thought it might be nice to update Thanks for Watching and let our boys finally get together :)

Also on ao3 here

~

Okay, so he’s known Tony for six months now. It’s not super weird that they’re still not dating right? He knows that Tony thinks he’s attractive—he says it in just about every video that Steve’s in now—and he’s pretty sure that Tony likes the him under the hotness too—or at least, Tony makes sure to reassure him of that after every video—and he definitely thinks Tony’s pretty great.

But they’re still not dating.

He knows it frustrates both Bucky and Rhodey, who ask them about it at least once a week. He’s pretty sure it frustrates Tony’s fans too who always squee about them in the comments. He thinks that’s the term Tony uses.

Squee? Squeezes? Squeegy? No, that can’t be right.

Whatever.

They’re always talking about how cute Steve and Tony are in the comments and wondering when they’re going to start dating. But, hey, Steve’s taking his time, okay? They say the best relationships are those built on a good, solid friendship and that’s what he’s building with Tony right now.

He’s not afraid, no matter what Bucky says.

He’s not.

He might be.

A little.

Maybe a little more than a little.

Okay, so maybe he’s terrified. It’s just that the more he gets to know Tony, the more he gets to see what an incredible, bright, vivacious man he is, the less he feels…worthy, maybe. He’s just Steve Rogers. He can barely keep up with whatever Tony’s chattering about and he wears grandpa pants to go out and he only has followers on any of his social media because of Tony’s shout out. What could he have to offer someone like Tony Stark?

He looks up from where he’s working on his latest commission—a portrait of someone’s wife for their twenty-sixth anniversary since that’s apparently the art one—to where Tony is at the other end of the workshop, doing a Q&A. He does them periodically, usually for subscriber milestones but sometimes for other reasons like an anniversary or a birthday or when he gets enough requests for another one.

“Stuckinmicanopy wants to know how Dum-E got his name,” Tony reads off the screen. In the corner, Dum-E perks up at the sound of his name. “You know, that’s a really good question and it’s one that I don’t think I’ve ever really talked about before. So back at MIT, when Rhodey-bear and I were first working on Dum-E’s programming, he was originally named Laundr because he was supposed to be a laundry bot since we didn’t like doing laundry. And who can blame us? Laundry was created by the devil. Anyway, so Dum-E was supposed to be a laundry bot but then he fell down the stairs like three times in a row and we couldn’t get the bug out of his programming so I called him a dummy and the name just stuck. The spelling thing happened because on Dum-E’s first birthday, we showed him Wall-E and he was infatuated.”

Steve, who has been watching Dum-E steadily trundle closer throughout Tony’s speech, warningly says, “Tony.”

Just in time, Tony turns to stop Dum-E from spraying him with the fire extinguisher. “Nothing’s even on fire, you useless bot,” he exclaims. “Go back to your corner. Go. Shoo. Off you go.”

He gives Steve an exaggeratedly confused look. Steve laughs and shrugs. “He must have heard his name,” he says.

“Must’ve,” Tony agrees. “Okay, next question. Ooh new one just popped up from bellesbagels: is Steve there with me? Yes, he is. Steve likes to come do his art stuff in the workshop because his roommate isn’t there and because I got him a really great easel for his birthday earlier this year. I would tilt the camera so you could all see him but he’s working on a surprise commission and he doesn’t want anyone to see it until it’s finished. Maybe if the next person asks really nicely, he’ll get up and come over here so you guys can say hi.”

“I’ll get up and go over there now,” Steve says, He leaves his brush in the mug and heads over to join Tony by the computer. “Hi Tony, hi viewers.” He drops a quick kiss on the top of Tony’s head—even if he’ll never admit it, Tony craves affection—waves to the camera and meanders back to his easel.

Tony leans back in his chair to give him a fond smile before returning to his questions. “So apparently a lot of you want to know if Steve often gives me kisses and the answer is yes. Steve and I are very affectionate with each other, me because I’m naturally an affectionate person and Steve because I think he feels sorry for me that Howard doesn’t like me.”

“Hey,” Steve protests.

“I’m kidding. Steve and I are affectionate with each other because we both like each other very much and toxic masculinity is ridiculous. And seriously, everyone should take a chance to feel up those biceps at least once. They’re ridiculously huge. So since not everyone gets to see Steve like I do everyday, I will take one for the team and give Steve as many hugs as I can to make up for it.”

See, it’s things like that that make him think Tony is interested in dating him. But then he always adds a “just kidding” or doesn’t follow it up with asking Steve out and he’s just hopelessly confused.

“Shaylabee wants to know when Steve’s birthday is so they can send him a present next year.” He shoots Steve a questioning look. Steve thinks about it and then nods. He’s gotten packages from followers before. They always get sent to Stark Tower where they can be vetted. “Because he is All-American Grade-A beef, Steve’s birthday is ironically on the 4th of July. Next question: lovelyjules asks if Steve and I are aware that we keep acting like we’re dating.”

He pauses and Steve looks up from his easel. Over by the computer, Tony is frowning at the question. Steve gets it. He knows how much Tony hates it when people act like they have to be dating because they give each other hugs and compliments.

“I’ll take this one,” he offers, standing up and joining Tony again.

“Steve—”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He presses another kiss to the side of Tony’s head. “You get this question a lot. Let me handle it for once.” He looks at the camera and takes a deep breath. “Tony and I would like to remind you about what he just said regarding toxic masculinity. We’re very close friends who express our friendship in a physical way but that doesn’t mean that we have to be dating. Tony isn’t interested in anything like that and I respect his choices.” And then, belatedly so that Tony doesn’t suspect anything. “And I’m not either.”

It comes off as a little lame even to him and he thinks Tony might have gotten suspicious judging by the way he frowns oddly.

But when Steve doesn’t say anything else about it, Tony just goes back to the video and says, “That’s all we’ve got time for today. Thanks for listening to me jabber at you today, I’ll be back with a new Science Bros video next week, and as always, thanks for watching.”

Steve waves as Tony turns off the camera, smiling awkwardly.

“Tony—” he starts to say as soon as the blinking light stops flashing.

“Wait. What do you mean I’m not interested?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Well, you know, you’re always making jokes—”

“You mean flirting with you?”

“You always tell me that you’re just kidding afterwards!” he exclaims

“Because you always look so uncomfortable!” Tony says. “Are you telling me that you never once minded me hitting on you?”

“Why would I mind? I’ve had a crush on you for months.”

Tony gapes at him. “But you never said anything. You just—you looked at me so I just figured you didn’t feel the same. We could have been dating for months?”

“I—” Something is stirring in Steve’s heart, something that feels a little bit like hope. “Yes?”

Tony breaks out into a huge grin and he throws his arms around Steve, hugging him tight. “Wow, we’re just as idiotic as Rhodey’s been saying we are.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Steve argues.

“No, no, Honeybear is always right.”

“We got here, didn’t we?” he points out. “Last I heard, Rhodey was betting on us never getting our shit together.”

Tony laughs brightly, nuzzling deeper into Steve’s chest as he does. Slowly, Steve puts his own arms around Tony. They’ve hugged before, many times really, but this feels…different, momentous even.

“Hey, Tony?” he asks hesitantly, wondering if he’s allowed to do this now.

Tony hums happily.

“Can I—may I, I mean—kiss you?”

His answer is to slide his hands up Steve’s chest, hook around his neck, and pull him down for the softest, gentlest kiss Steve thinks he’s ever had. His own hands slide down to fit around Tony’s waist, bringing him up close as he opens his mouth on a content sigh.

Tony pulls away but doesn’t go far, instead resting his forehead against Steve’s. “That was nice,” he whispers.

“Mmhmm,” Steve agrees. “You want to go out with me tonight? Something low key, maybe?”

“Burgers and milkshakes?”

“Share the milkshake?”

“Would we do any less?” Tony asks, mock-indignantly.

Steve chuckles and kisses Tony again, letting his lips linger. He’s allowed to do this, he gets to have this, have Tony. They’re going to be the disgustingly cute couple driving Bucky and Rhodey crazy, he just knows it.

“No,” he says. “Probably not.”

[gosagacious]

HAWK fails at a postapocalyptic future

I’m waiting for my copy of HAWK from the library, but from what I’ve heard from other readers, it sounds like it hasn’t changed much since the ARC. That’s frustrating. Partly because there were so many plot holes.

In Maximum Ride Forever, the world has been hit by a meteor, and then gone through not only that fallout but numerous weapons like a lab-created plague and nuclear bombs. Major cities are flooded, or cratered, or experiencing nuclear fallout. A significant part of the population is dead. We meet only a handful of adults. The vast majority of survivors who we see are children, and quite a few of those are mutants. The ending features a battle between child armies. 

In MRF, we are given to believe that these are the people on whom the rebuilt future rests. 

In HAWK, we get a completely different fallout.

Take all of that stuff from MRF and add in a four-year-long nuclear winter. The surviving child soldiers do have resources and can work on planning, but all the characters we know of go into underground bunkers to survive.

Eleven years after that – sixteen years total since the extinction-level event - there are multiple cities full of people of all ages. These cities feature skyscrapers, massive drug labs, evil science facilities, tanks, cars, guns with government chips in them, paved streets, plumbing. Film studios, movie cameras, animated cartoons! There is a hidden canyon city with houses carved into the walls, which one imagines would have taken a very long time, but which is apparently quite well-established. There are doctors and nurses. Where did they get their degrees? Are they all in their thirties and younger, or were they adults who we didn’t meet in MRF? 

It’s difficult to tell the ratio of mutants to humans, but from what we see, mutants are occasional but rare. (So much for Itex’s plan to have their mutants rule the world.)

On to the social status quo. Now, bear in mind that Hawk never got an education and has lived in one place for as long as she can remember. Okay: Hawk does not know what the ocean is. She does not know what a squirrel is. She believes that horses and pandas are mythical creatures, and she talks about “Crismins” instead of Christmas.

More widely, everyone, including Americans, has adopted the metric system, people talk about the “gods” and some worship statues. Okay. Fine, I guess. I can even sort of take Max’s inspirational speech reminding the citizens that they deserve to be treated like human beings.

But it’s difficult to tell how much of this is Hawk being clueless and growing up in a hellhole of a city, and how much is meant to be genuine worldbuilding of “See! See how different this dark, gritty future is! See how much has been forgotten! Our main character has heard only a garbled version of the word ‘Christmas!’”

Except that it has been only sixteen years since the world ended. It has only been eleven years since they really had the chance to start rebuilding.  I know we only see two cities and one prison island, and it’s hinted there’s more of a connection to the previous world in the free city of Tetra, but this is ridiculous.

Technology, infrastructure and population should be low. Connection to the previous world’s pop culture and society should be high. There are adults running around for whom sixteen years is only a fraction of their lives. There would still be teenagers who would have been born before the apocalypse.

Instead, the book treats things as if it has been much longer. High population, infrastructure and technology. Low connection to the previous world. 

After sixteen years, things have changed so much that a girl born at the pivotal point does not know the word Christmas. She does not know what the ocean is; she has never heard anyone talk about islands, or cruises, or going to the beach. In a world where TV is a constant presence, she thinks horses are made up. But Christmas is what really gets me. Look at how much Christmas takes over stores and media around December. Are you telling me that in under two decades, people forgot the word Christmas?! They have TV and cartoons, and in the past decade and a half, nobody has ever cranked up some old carols?? 

After all this, I want to try a quick worldbuilding of what the Maximum Ride future might look like. This is just spitballing; there are any number of directions it could go.

What HAWK could look like if the future followed a sensible pattern:

To begin: after natural disasters, plague, nuclear bombings, and a four-year nuclear winter, you’d have a vastly shrunken population. Most of the characters seen in Maximum Ride Forever are orphaned children. There will be huge gaps in the age population. I’ll hypothesize that most adults died in the plague. By the time of HAWK, you probably don’t see anyone over 65, and even that might be pushing it.

On the other hand, I expect there will be a huge emphasis on repopulating the planet. The survival of the human race is still in question. Let’s say there was a baby boom right after the nuclear winter ended and people started leaving their bunkers. You see a lot of kids around 10-11 years old. Hawk will hardly ever meet anyone her age; she was born in a patch of time when pretty much nobody was having babies. There are no abusive orphanages. Children are far too treasured. Even if death rates are high and orphans are common, there will be people anxiously collecting up those orphans and raising them in a safe place. Hawk’s orphanage could still be a weird place, but the kids wouldn’t be disappearing or taken off to evil laboratories. Although—more on that in a minute.

By the time of HAWK, the Apocalypse’s shadow still looms; anyone 20 or older can remember where they were and what they were doing That Day. They reminisce to each other or to their children about the old days. Hawk can be skeptical, as in canon, that some of these stories are true. Enough people that the world was struggling with overpopulation? How is that possible?

The survivors are people who went down into bunkers. Let’s say there were bunkers scattered all over the world. You’ll get a lot of wacky survivalist types, and also probably some of those scientists and major businessmen who were talking about the end of the world in the older MR books, and who could afford to build bunkers. Speaking of which: Himmel! This was the main villain’s bunker that the Flock and their army of child soldiers ended up moving into. Chock-full of advanced technology.

The groups in these bunkers would have lived together for four years in close quarters, relying on each other to survive (or maybe fighting to the death, I don’t know). Groups like the one in Himmel will probably be incredibly close-knit. Even after the nuclear winter is over, it will make sense for people to use those bunkers as bases. Towns, and one day cities, will grow up around them. Some people may still live primarily in underground apartments.

Maybe (I could be pushing it here) there are some people who stayed out of the bunkers and ended up in a hunter-gatherer caveman-type existence. If they survived, this could be an important allyship or a source of tension with the bunker-dwellers. Do they join up? Do they keep their distance?

Major cities do not exist (so no “City of the Dead”). The older cities are uninhabitable and being reclaimed by nature, long stripped of resources even if they aren’t just piles of rubble. Most people are not concerned about rebuilding them right now, and there probably aren’t even enough surviving workers with the right knowledge; a lot of professions will have to be re-developed from the ground up. Suffice to say there are no new skyscrapers going up.

The immediate concern will be food. Agriculture will have suffered from the nuclear winter. Some people are working on traditional farms, but we do have that advanced technology from Himmel, and the surviving scientists will be in high demand for developing new food sources.

I’m thinking of lots of farming communities centered around the safety of the bunkers. They will spread outwards only gradually. And there was a large population of mutant “Aquatics”, so new towns may not necessarily be built on land. We could have towns built on or under the water, and farms focused on fish and seaweed.

Mutants make up a major percentage of the surviving population. There’s no more of scientists coming after mutants and picking them off. Mutants are the scientists now, in many cases; the mutant kids growing up in Himmel would have been studying the resources there and learning to build things necessary for the new world.

However, there’s a possibility of prejudice against mutants. Perhaps some of the human survivors, particularly from other bunkers, resent the mutants or see them as tied to the Apocalypse. The question of reproduction and having the human race survive? Maybe some people want humanity to be “pure.” They don’t want bird or fish DNA floating around in there. 

There will likely be a problem of ruffian bands who try to raid these settlements for food. Sometimes settlements raid each other. There may also be corrupt administrations, or gangs who offer “protection.”

There isn’t the same kind of worldwide connection. Although they certainly have the technology for long-distance communication, it will take a long time to rebuild the infrastructure and carry it all over the world. The postal system is gone. The transportation system is gone. Instead of booking a flight at the airport, you ask your buddy Susan if she can give you a ride in her crop duster to the next settlement. 

There are no huge, high-tech prisons, either. Nobody’s got the time or resources to devote to that, and there simply aren’t enough prisoners to fill up something like that. Prisons in this world? I’m picturing big old pits like in The Dark Knight Rises.

So here’s a shot at reworking the beginning of HAWK: Hawk’s parents leave her with a babysitter in a farming community, but while they’re away, it’s hit by raiders. In the destruction, along with food, the raiders also take kids to sell them. Hawk ends up in a weird orphanage obsessed with raising the new generation of the world and ensuring humanity’s survival. However, one of the administrators is bigoted against mutants, and when it’s discovered that Hawk is a mutant, she’s put aside with the other "non-ideal” kids, who are treated like servants. The orphanage might be under the “protection” of a gang - the Paters. Pietro can even still be around—except please less boring and maybe with a name that doesn’t sound like a tongue twister—and he might be a rare kid born around the same time as Hawk, maybe a year older, whose parents made it through the Apocalypse and kept their infant son alive because of their wealth.

That’s something I could have accepted. I can’t accept smacking Hawk in the middle of a generic dystopian city that seems a century or further into the future, when it should be only sixteen.

[new-endings]

you wear white and i'll wear out the words ‘i love you’

or

( in which crowley struggles to find the right time and place to propose)

He’d known Aziraphale’s ring size since Rome, though the need for this knowledge wouldn’t arise until millennia later. Far better than tossing apples at him centuries prior, which Crowley was sure wouldn’t have been well-received by the angel.

He had the ring itself since the tradition was popularized and changed the stone, the metal, and the inscriptions at least twice every decade. He’d known Aziraphale’s favorite flavor of cake, the very swoons and swells of romantic melodies that made his angel’s heart sing with joy and float with love. He’d known that Aziraphale had long wanted to travel East since before its industrialization, though London remained his home and heart, and, not long after the entire mess of the Armageddon’t—

Crowley knew, with absolute certainty, that Aziraphale loved him, loved earth, and loved their life together.

And Crowley, with absolute certainty, wanted a life together with Aziraphale.

The thought had been lurking in the darkest crevices of his heart, ashen and burnt, where most secrets seeped in its cracks. Of course he’d known he loved Aziraphale—he’d known his own heart since Rome. But the very possibility of having that love actualized—much less returned—had been such a preposterous, laughable, impossible thought that…

To even wonder, to even wish, would have wrought him nothing but pain.

But that was something that Crowley couldn’t help. When the wretched emotion had made itself known, had seeded and rooted itself deeply within Crowley’s heart, there was no going back. And now, many millennia later, it was no longer just the torturous squeeze of thorns driving deep into Crowley’s chest at the thought of a life with Aziraphale—

It was waking to the sight of his angel (yes, his) in his ridiculous nightgown and equally ridiculous little glasses perched on his adorable nose as he flipped through the pages of a love-worn novel in Crowley’s bed; it was meeting for lunch without his angel ducking at the sight of every American in a gray, luxurious business suit; it was being able to hold his angel’s hand as they strolled through St. James park to feed the ducks, recycling old banters and trying new, honest conversations (“I thought you looked rather ravishing in that fancy little petticoat of yours. Still not a good idea to wear it during a revolution, though.” “Oh, thank you dear. I rather thought you—you—good lord, your hair back then reminded me of two somersaulting weasels.” “You really are a bastard, aren’t you?” “I’ve learned from the very best, I’ll have you know.”); it was kissing him good morning, hello, be right back, and goodnight.

It was a possibility. A very, very real possibility.

Now…now all Crowley had to do was ask.

---

Crowley prided himself in his brilliance. It wasn’t just the Pride either—he knew he had more creativity that likely all the forces of Hell combined—

(still didn’t hold a candle to Aziraphale’s wit when his angel set his mind on something, but that’s a discussion for another time.)

Which was why he had every bit of confidence that when he enacted his master plan, it would surely sweep his angel off his feet.

…Granted, if he had a master plan to begin with.

Because lo and behold, Crowley, who had been squirreling his angel’s preferences and tastes, ring size, suit size, shoe size—never actually thought he’d be able to use this information in the most important way possible. And thus—

He was scrambling.

He threw idea after idea out—We could go to Rome; take him out on our first date again—wait, did he even know that was our first date?, forged bloody mood boards from digital inspiration on social media—Ugh, this all looks terribly tasteless. This looks nice, but I know for a fact that Aziraphale hasn’t gone swimming since the 1800s for some incident or other—and nearly broke down and ran to the bookshop to propose right then and there just to get it over with.

But no.

His angel deserved better than that.

“We could have a picnic…dinner at the Ritz,” Crowley mocked, turning over in despair. “Go—Sata—SOMEONE-DAMNIT. Why didn’t I propose then…It would have been perfect.” He let out another groan. “Right, right, great thinking there, Crowley—just drop the proposal to your best friend after he was cut off and nearly killed by his abusive family and workplace, real romantic.”

He sighed, peeling himself off the ceiling where he’d somehow ended up. It was getting late and damnit, he promised to take Aziraphale to that play tonight, didn’t he?

Crowley, once upright, glared hard at the ring on his desk. It had been taunting him for the past month and he knew the niggling thoughts at the back of his mind, the compulsion to open it up, scrutinize it, to once again deem it worthy enough for his angel, wouldn’t let up until he saw it where it belonged: on his angel’s marriage hand.

Crowley snatched the box and, with some difficulty, pocketed it.

(He was actually surprised these pants came with pockets.)

Fine. If inspiration won’t come to him, then he’ll come to inspiration. Humans always went on and on about knowing when the time was right or what have you. Sure, it might be more…spontaneous than he’d like…

(Crowley liked plans. Plans kept him and his angel alive since the dawn of their arrangement, even when they didn’t always pan out the way he wanted them to)

But, as his angel showed him back at the airbase, sometimes a little spontaneity was just what he needed to get the job done.

-

He could have proposed at the theater. Hamlet had been Aziraphale’s favorite because Crowley made it into a smashing success just for him. It would have been romantic— a reminder that there wasn’t anything Crowley wouldn’t do to make him happy. But instead, he just watched on with half-amusement, half-embarrassment as his angel cheered and encouraged the actors, rather loudly, from their seats.

(“Angel, darling, love of my life, you’re going to get us kicked out if you keep that up.” “I-I’m the love of your life?” “Obviously, but also, not the point.”)

He could have proposed at their bench at St. James Park: right where they used to meet in secret and business and thinly veiled ventures to simply be in each other’s company—a reminder of how far they’ve come and a promise for what’s to come. But instead, they just fed the ducks, Crowley listening on with not-so-silent affection as Aziraphale berated himself for feeding them bread for years when it turned out it had been bad for them all along.

(“I brought peas this time!” “Angel, I’m sure the ducks would have appreciated any old thing.” “Yes, well, I still want it to be good for them, Crowley.” “All right, fair enough.”)

He could have proposed at the Ritz, gotten them a nice hotel room to ah…freshen up (after making a mess out of each other), enjoyed their meal and basked in the romantic atmosphere— a reminder of the first day of the rest of their lives after freeing one another and paving a road ahead where they could be together, belong together at last. He could have even put the ring in his angel’s dessert—if the ring made it out intact.  But instead, Crowley dined and wined with the most perfect being (for him) created in all this universe, and basked in that lovely, perfect moment, all worries, anxieties—and the ring—forgotten.

(“I love you, Crowley.” “I…I…oh—fuck—” “It’s all right, Crowley…” “I just…sometimes…” “It’s okay, love…” “I’ve wanted to hear you for so long—” “You’ll hear me every day, Crowley.” “Angel, I love you, I’ve been in love with you for—forever, it feels like.” “I know, Crowley. I know…and I’m ready to hear it now.”)

He could have proposed in so many different places, so many different times, and in so many different ways—all romantic, all with grand, sweeping gestures, and all matter of symbolism and meaning behind each instance.

And yet, the primordial, primitive, snake-brain of his—decided that now would be the time.

“Ah—ah—angel, angel,” Crowley gasped, writhing against the delicious friction as Aziraphale maddeningly teased his Effort from within the constricting confines of his trousers.

“Yes, dearest?” he smiled, looking quite at home on his knees on the Persian rug of the bookshop’s backroom.

“You right bastard—ah!” Crowley choked off a scream as Aziraphale mouthed his clothed cock, warm, wet heat so close yet so far from where he needed it most. He fruitlessly attempted to shimmy out of his jeans, buck into that lovely, inviting mouth, and give his angel a taste of what happens when you press a demon’s buttons in all the right ways.

“I know virtues aren’t your specialty, Crowley, but you really should have some patience,” his angel tsk’d, eyes gleaming with mischief and Crowley fell impossibly deeper in love with this incorrigible, chaotic ethereal being.  

And that. That was exactly what his snake-brain was waiting for. “Oh, fuck angel—marry me—”

Then that heat was gone. It took maybe a second or two for the words that had just tumbled straight out of his mouth to register, but before Crowley could internally agonize in horror at his abso-fucking-lutely shite timing—

“I—I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

And what was Crowley supposed to do? Back out? Deny he said anything? Nope, not this time, not on his life.

Not anymore.

“Marry me,” he wheezed out, the embarrassment not quite catching up to him as he miracled the box to his hand (and thusly relieving some of that extra pressure in his trousers), and presented it to Aziraphale with all the grace of a boneless octopus.

(wait, octopodes don’t have bones do they?)

Best case scenario, Aziraphale disregarded the fact that Crowley just popped the question right before a well-anticipated blowjob. Worst-case scenario, he would have berated the demon for the abso-fucking-lutely shite timing. But instead, he was met with: "So," Aziraphale started, brows furrowed with confusion from between Crowley's legs. "That bulge in your pants doesn't just mean you're happy to see me?"

“Angel,” Crowley sighed, valiantly attempting to keep calm despite the gnawing anxiety at his chest; great, the gears were still turning in his angel’s pretty little head from the shock. “You know I’m always happy to see you on your knees for me, but I believe I asked you a question.” He waved the box in front of him and then it all clicked into place.

Crowley could tell by the bright sparkle in those sea-storm eyes and the sweet, bashful smile on his lips. “Then shouldn’t you be the one on your knees? Or—one, rather, I think is the human way of doing it now.”

“Oh, right,” Crowley muttered, wobbling as he stood from his favorite couch in all of Aziraphale’s shop. As tradition dictated, Crowley got down on one knee, opened his mouth to say, “Aziraphale, will you—”

And was immediately met with, “Yes!”

Crowley tumbled backwards onto the couch, and armful and lapful of his ecstatic angel, and finally engaged.

-

“Oh…it’s so lovely, Crowley,” Aziraphale cooed, holding up the ring to the light.

Crowley hummed, lacing their fingers together, and— yes he was right all along, he should have never doubted his tastes to begin with.

The ring was perfect on his angel.

“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, dimples, and chin, and if the rest of their lives could be even just a fraction of how perfect this moment was, Crowley, for the first time in a long time, was looking forward to eternity.

“Even if you did propose right before I was to initiate fellatio,” Aziraphale giggled.

Crowley sighed, feigning annoyance despite the way his heart (not quite-so-ashen, and not-quite-so burnt) thudded painfully with love. “You could not have said that any worse.” He pulled Aziraphale close, smothering the giggles at his expense with a tender, loving kiss. He drew back, smirking at the lovestruck look on his angel’s face, plain as day, unguarded and open for Crowley to see. “Besides, could you have done any better?”

“Well, I certainly could,” he teased.

Crowley raised a brow, a challenging smile on his lips. “Oh really, now? C’mon then, let’s hear it.”

“All right, then!” His angel cleared his throat. “I would have, for one, proposed on October 21st—”

“Day the Earth was created, not bad,” Crowley admitted.

“And on that day, asked you to come away with me to a little trip—”

“Ooh, going on a little trip, are we?” The demon chuckled. “Where to? Tadfield? France? Rome?—”

“The Garden.”

Crowley felt his breath catch in his throat. Aziraphale gave him a small, triumphant smile, and continued. “Of course I still have access to it, dear. I was one of its guardians after all.” His angel admired the ring once more, voice soft as he continued, “I would have brought a picnic of course, and suggested, if you hadn’t already—”

“To have it on the wall,” Crowley whispered. “Where we first met.”

“Where our journey began,” Aziraphale added. “And I would have—I would have let you know that never in my wildest dreams would I have thought, back then, up there on that wall, that I would have found…the person that my heart belongs to.” He looked back at Crowley, eyes wet and smile wobbling on his sweet mouth and Crowley wanted to just take this lovely, lovely being in his arms and never let go. “And that through this long, long journey since Earth began, I’m ever-grateful that all my roads lead back to you.”  

“Angel…”

“And then, I would get down on one knee and ask you,” he turned to face Crowley, a tear or two slipping down his cheeks, “Oh? My what’s that in your ear?”

Crowley furrowed his brow. “Wha—oh, no, angel, not one of your—”

“Ooooh, what’s this?” But before Crowley could swap his hand out of his way, something bright, gleaming, and poorly concealed in his angel’s hand caught his eye.

Any and all teasing of his fiancé’s failed sleight of hand fled Crowley’s mouth at the sight of the gold band between his fingers. He must have looked quite the sight, gaping mouth and nothing coming out, but Aziraphale only chuckled.

“You always did go faster than me, Crowley,” he murmured, placing the band right on his demon’s marriage finger, smiling at the perfect fit it made. “But that’s all right.” He pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his fiancé’s lips. “All my roads lead to you, after all.”

[zuucc]

SOMEONE YOU LOVED: W. Nylander I FLUFF/SMUT

Words: 8K

Angst meter: I wrote the word tear(s) 25 times (honorable mention: heart - 19 times)

Summary: Being in a relationship with a professional hockey player wasn’t easy. In fact, it was too hard. To protect your heart, you’d ended the relationship. Having had you to fall back on during the hardest time of his career, William now found it hard to cope when life got too hard - now that he didn’t have you.

Author’s note: I’ve had the song “Someone you loved” by Lewis Capaldi on repeat for two four weeks straight and this angsty shit is the result of that. Also, I started this before Babcock was fired (THANK THE GODS). Hope you like it<3

Special thanks to @mcdraisaitl​ for not only being my spell check but also my personal thesaurus (unfortunately there are no synonyms for tear/s)

Masterlist linked in bio.

It was way too late for William to still be awake. The morning practice and his teammate’s waiting car getting closer every time he looked at the numbers on his phone screen. Too close. He was so ridiculously tired. There was no way he could keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds, but he still couldn’t sleep. He still couldn’t shut his brain off.

He didn’t understand why he had to go through all of this all over again. He’d been playing well enough, making assists in almost every game, scoring – making his teammates better. Still, he felt the same as the season before.

Terrible.

But this time it was worse, even if he felt he didn’t really deserve it this time. Last year he’d had someone to fall back on, someone who would hold him and tell him that everything was going to be alright. Last year he’d had someone to save him from his darkest thoughts, someone who helped him escape – made him laugh, and smile. Made him forget, just for a few hours.

Last year there was always someone waiting for him after his worst games, even if they weren’t there, at least they were just a phone call away. There was someone in his bed when he came home, opening their arms to hold him, or pressing their body against his for him to get lost in something else for once.

Last year he had you.

But you had left a long time ago. You left when it got too tough. When the challenges of being with someone who was never there, someone who would leave for weeks – for the entire summer – got too difficult to deal with.

You were two years deep into university when you’d met; the pressure of exams, lectures and a pending dissertation resting on your shoulders. Along with that you had a part time job and friends. And living as far away from your family as you did, had you holding onto those friendships for dear life. Making time for all that was hard, in general. But trying to make time for a boyfriend that had an even worse schedule than you made it even harder.

So you took the hardest decision you’d ever made and disappeared from his life. You left, with tears streaming down your face for days on end and the weight of not only having broken your own heart, but his as well. You’d protected yourself, protected your heart.

And he couldn’t blame you.

“I have to protect myself Will,” you’d cried, pressing one last kiss to his lips before you’d crawled out of his bed, throwing on your clothes that laid scattered all over the floor. He’d laid awake all night, tears falling silently down the side of his face and onto his pillow as he tried calling you for the twentieth time that night without any luck. And then he’d gotten up and gone on the longest flight to Sweden of his life. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried to his mom, but he’d broken down the second he got in her car at the airport.

That was nearly five months ago. William thought that maybe he’d gotten over you, but as soon as the hockey season started again, and life came crashing down on him again with the pressure of the entire city of Toronto looking over his shoulders, and a coach that only pushed him down further.

His mind returned back to what wasn’t there anymore to help him stay away from his darkest thoughts during the last season, the only one that could help him forget them. The one that had helped him get through last season and all that came with it... The one that made him feel so loved that whatever the media had said, or the comments on Instagram and Twitter said – what Babcock said - didn’t matter at all.

~

“Can I sleep here?” he asked.

To say you were at a loss for words was an understatement, already in shock when you opened the door and found your ex-boyfriend standing in the hallway of your apartment building.

“I don’t sleep anymore. I have a game tonight and I haven’t slept for even one second tonight because life is pretty shitty right now and you’re not there to fix it. Life is so fucking hard right now and I can’t sleep without you.”

His words break your heart all over again. You’d struggled for so long trying to forget him, that you broke his heart. You’ve never really forgotten him though. It’s pretty hard when his face is plastered all over the city – on a poster at the bus stop, or an ad on TV – his name on the back of someone who just walked past you. And every time you’re reminded of what you had together; and what you did to him.

You finally open the door fully, letting him step inside. He walks past you, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his coat before he takes your hand and leads you to your bedroom. He motions for you to lay down, and you do - opening your arms for him like you’d done so many times the year before - letting him rest his head on your chest while your legs tangled. Your hand found its way into his hair as his face nuzzled into your neck.

Your body tensed up as you felt the first tear soak through the thin material of your t-shirt, your arms tightening around him as you fought to keep your own at bay.

“I need you,” he weeps, letting his arm curl around your back and pull you to him.

“I know,” you swallow the giant lump in your throat, just barely getting the words out in a whisper before your resolve breaks and there’s a stream of tears cascading down the sides of your face.

Just a few minutes later his body starts to feel heavier on top of yours and you can hear his breaths change. And as he sleeps with his head on your chest and his leg intertwined with yours, you struggle to keep your crying from turning into sobs. You struggle to keep still and quiet and not let the overbearing regret, guilt, and heartbreak from seeing him again – from seeing first hand how badly you broke him – wake him up.

Somewhere in the middle of the four hours that you laid there, clinging onto his sleeping form, your roommate came home. The door wasn’t closed all the way and she opened it, peeking inside in confusion. As you met her eyes, more tears started streaming down your cheeks, and you lifted your hand from his hair to hold a finger against your lips, begging her to not say anything, and with a worried look she backed out again.

It was the least you could do. Just to let him sleep when you were part of the reason why he couldn’t.

He didn’t wake up before the smart watch on his wrist started buzzing, an alarm telling him that he needed to leave soon. He groaned, nuzzling his face into your neck for a second before he tore his body away from yours. Your eyes met, and you could tell that he noticed your blood shot eyes and wet cheeks by the way his face fell when he looked at you. His hand came up to your face, cupping your cheek in his big palm – a thumb coming up to catch the drop that fell from your eye. He then leaned in, placing a kiss on your salty, tear stained cheek, before whispering a “thank you” and leaving.

You finally let the sobs break through you once you hear the door close, and only seconds later your roommate is in your room pulling you into a hug.

“Hey, what happened? What was he doing here?” she asks, her voice soft and filled with worry.

“I broke his heart, Jess,” you cry, struggling to breathe through your sobs, “he’s struggling and I’m not there to help him. He came here asking if he could sleep here for Gods sake,” you choke out, “He hadn’t slept all night, and then five minutes in my arms and he sleeps for four hours,”

“Honey, you didn’t just break his heart when you broke off the relationship, you know that right?” Jess says, letting her fingers slide through your hair in a soothing manner.

“I broke mine, too,” you breathe, finally calming down.

“Yeah, and if you love him so much… why aren’t you with him?” she asks the question you’d answered so many times before.

“You know why, Jess,” you sigh, drying your face with the backs of your hands.

“Yeah, I know that you didn’t have time – that your schedule didn’t work with his – that finding time for him while also finding time for Uni, work, and friends was damn near impossible, I know. But you’re not in Uni anymore. You have your degree, and you have your nine to five job. You can fit him into your schedule. And even if he’s gone for a week or two for road trips, don’t you think it’s better than being miserable without him completely?”

You sigh again, trying to keep your breathing slow and steady as you let your roommate’s words sink in. You pride yourself with being right most of the time, but this time you thought maybe you weren’t. It was hard to admit but, like she said, being without him was harder.

You shove your phone into her hands before getting out of bed and dragging a chair over to your closet, climbing on top of it and reaching into the very back of the top shelf.

“Can you see if you can find me tickets to the game tonight?” you ask her, finally getting hold of the blue hoodie with the number 29 on its chest that he’d let you steal.

“What’s your plan?” Jess asks while searching for tickets on your phone.

“I’m going to put on this hoodie that I’ve neglected for nearly six months, then I’m gonna go to the game and hopefully not cry myself through it, and then I’m going to go find him after,” you explain, releasing a deep breath.

“And then?” she asks, looking up from your phone.

“And then we’ll talk,” you whisper, lifting the hoodie to your face, breathing in the very faint smell of cologne, that you could probably only smell because you knew it was there.

“I found a seat,” she says, breaking you out of your trance.

“Buy it. I don’t care where it is,” you tell her.

Jess hums, confirming that she was already in the process of doing so. You pull the old Toronto Maple Leaf hockey hoodie over your head, shoving your arms into its way too long sleeves and letting it fall down over your torso. Seeing it on you in the mirror sent tears running down your cheeks again.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Jess reacts quickly as you sit down on the bed, your head falling into your hands while you sob.

“He doesn’t even wear this number anymore,” you weep, leaning into her as she once again slides her arms around you.

“Hey, you’re gonna go to the game, and you’re gonna find him after and then you’re gonna talk and fix everything. And by the time you’re back here you’re gonna have a new hoodie with the number 88 on it, right?” she tries to cheer you up.

“But what if he doesn’t want me back? He might miss me and need me but I broke his heart… I left him,” you cry, overthinking everything in the hopes of not letting yourself get any expectations for the conversation you were hoping to have with your ex-boyfriend in a few hours.

“Babe, he came here to sleep in your arms, he- he wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t want you back; hockey game tonight or not,” Jess tries, but you can’t let yourself believe her.

After having been force fed Chinese take out by Jess and after having washed your tear stained face at least four times, you make your way to the arena, taking the longest route you know just to give yourself more time to think about what you were going to say. The music playing on a low volume through your car speakers not exactly helping with lightening your mood. At some point the playlist shuffles to a song you can faintly remember William humming along to while he helped you make dinner sometime during the first months of your relationship and once again you’re crying.

You dry the tears off your face before leaving the car and making your way into the arena. You fight back the tears once again when you see him on the ice during warm ups, but make it through with glossy eyes. The game is harder to watch though, but you make it through that as well, only letting one tear slip when you see his tired face on the jumbotron.

You manage to get to the locker rooms, happy that the security guards are the same old men that were there the season before. All the wives and girlfriends are there waiting, but you stay as far away as possible in the hopes of going unnoticed. With the schedule that you already had trouble fitting in William, you’d barely met any of them – so you were most likely safe.

Alannah notices you, though, and makes her way over to you. Zach and William spent a lot of time together outside of the rink, and therefore you actually got to know her quite well. When you made it to games, she would make sure that you didn’t feel alone and that you were introduced to new people. But when you and Willy broke up, the contact between you faded away quickly.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” she asks.

Her voice is soft, though, and just the sound of it makes you want to cry. She sees your blood shot eyes and red cheeks and pulls you into a hug when your eyes gloss over with tears once more.

“Are you okay?” she forgets her first question and tries a new one.

You shake your head quickly, drying off a drop before it even leaves your eye.

“He came to my house today because he needed to sleep and he couldn’t without me,” you told her, answering her following questions and telling her your plans of hopefully making it all right again.

Zach isn’t as forgiving as his wife though, stopping in front of you with the same question as Alannah, just with an harsher tone. But he had every right to question you, to be mad at you. You’d broken his best friend’s heart and he was protective.

“She’s trying to make it right, Zach,” Alannah said softly, whispering you a quick ‘good luck’ with a squeeze of your hand before leading her husband away.

William comes out just a second later, freezing in the middle of the hallway when he sees you. Tears are spilling down your cheeks the second your eyes meet, and he walks over to you. Your arms are thrown around his neck as soon as he’s close enough and he pulls you into a tight embrace.  

“Can we talk?” you whisper, finally letting go of him when you feel him nod.

You step away from him and his hands come up to your face, drying your wet cheeks. He then takes your hand in his and leads you out of the arena. You follow him back to his place, and just seeing the building in front of you makes you want to start crying again – but you’re not sure you have any tears left.

You stand in silence in the elevator, neither of you ready to talk just yet. His arm slides around your shoulders a few floors into the elevator ride, and by the time it’s stopping, your body is flush against his and his lips is pressing a kiss into the top of your head. He leads you to his apartment with his hand in yours, even if you remembered exactly which door belonged to him.

Inside you’re lead to the couch where you wait for him while he changes out of his suit. Being back in his apartment brings back so many memories that you’ve tried so hard to forget, just sitting on his couch almost rips at your heart again – the memories of lazy nights with take out on the table and Netflix on the TV, cuddling after breakfast, and kissing him goodbye when he would sit on the couch with some kind of game on in front of him. The memories of your first time together comes flooding next, the images of lazy kisses on the couch turning desperate and being carried into his bedroom.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when William comes back, a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants having replaced his suit. He sets down a glass of water in front of you before he sits down next to you.

“You wanted to talk?” he says, urging you on.

You nod, fighting the lump in your throat that’s keeping you from actually talking.

“I’ve thought about what I was going to say to you every second since you fell asleep on my chest today, but I still don’t know what else to say other than I’m sorry,” you start, taking a sip of your water.

It’s not a great start, but it’s a start.

“I’m sorry that I left you. It was hard being with you because of our schedules but I think being without you has been a lot worse,” your voice is barely above a whisper but he listens.

“I’ve tried so hard to forget you, forget what I did to you, but it’s not fucking easy when I’m reminded of your existence everywhere I go,” you have somehow been able to keep calm, but you’re not sure if you can keep it up much longer, “Then you showed up today and it was like being smacked in the face with everything all over again – with breaking your heart, my own heart – with how much I still love you,” you tell him, somehow still remotely calm, but silent tears are sliding down your face.

He’s been looking down the whole time, just barely looking up for a second or two, but now he’s looking up – meeting your eyes. The sad look in his eyes has the tears spilling with more force.

“I love you so much,” you sob and he reaches out, pulling you closer and hugging you to him, “I’m so sorry,” you choke out and cling onto him with your arms around his neck.

He holds you until you calm down again, until you stop shaking, the tears stop coming.

“I love you, too,” he whispers, his fingers running through your hair, “And I miss you so much, especially now that I’m having a hard time again - I’m just reminded that you’re not here like you were last year,” he tells you, his voice low and soft as he keeps you close, arms firm around your body.

It surprises you how openly he talks about his feelings; still. It had taken you a long time to break down his walls, to get him to talk to you, but it seems the walls were still crumbled for you.

“I want to be here again,” you breathe, pulling back far enough to look at him. His eyes are filled with worry as he looks at you, and he’s just barely able to keep his eyes focused on yours, “I don’t want to be without you anymore, and I wanna be here for you,” you tell him, your voice a little bit stronger.

You move your hand to cup his cheek, and he looks away with glossy eyes.

“If you’ll have me,” you add, watching as a single tear slides down his cheek.

“I’d take you back no matter what,” he sighs, his head falling to rest against your shoulder. “Because that’s how much I love you,” he adds, and it feels like your heart is breaking for the hundredth time today. “I just need to know that you’re not gonna do that again, please,” he says, his voice so low and vulnerable that it brings tears to your eyes once again. “I love you so fucking much, and it wouldn’t have mattered what you did because I’d take you back anyway – fuck, I’ve already taken you back – but I need to know if I can trust you to not leave me again. I can’t go through that, not again,” his voice is strong, even if there’s a wet stream down each of his cheeks.

You climb onto his lap, straddling his hips and pulling him into a hug – his arms sliding around your waist in an embrace not even seconds later. You pull back slightly, placing your hands on each of his cheeks, your eyes meeting his and you just sit there for a couple of seconds, just gazing into each other’s eyes. You don’t know what he’s looking for, but it looks like he’s searching for something. Truth? Any sign that you don’t mean what you’re saying?

But then his eyes flicks to your lips, and you’re pressing yours to his in a heartbeat. It’s slow and deep, and long. His arms tighten around your waist and you hold him to you with the best of your strength. The next kiss is with more force, harder, but somehow so soft and vulnerable. You lean back and away from the kiss, his lips following you, begging for more.

“Wait,” you stop him, pressing your forehead to his and letting your hands slide back and into his hair.

His eyes clench shut and you pull him back into a hug, letting him rest his head on your shoulder again.

“I’ll stay. I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me,” you start, feeling his arm tighten around you again, his face pressing into your neck. “The fact that I hurt you hurts just as much as being without you hurts me, and I’ll live with that guilt for a long time. But I’m here to stay, and I’ll love you with everything that I have and everything that I am,” you whisper, your fingers running through his hair.

“But what if it gets hard again?”

“My situation is so different now than it was before. I was finishing university, I had friends that I was terrified to lose because of my family being so far away, and I had to take every shift that I could just so that I would be able to both pay my rent and buy necessities – a relationship just didn’t fit into the equation, especially when there were weeks when you were gone, and when you finally came back I had an exam to study for or essays to write,” you tell him. “But now I’m done with all that. I have a job with steady pay that’ll never make me pick up an extra shift. I have a nine to five job that’ll never keep me longer. Half my friends have moved away, some of them I don’t even talk to anymore. It doesn’t even matter, you’re more important anyway. I have time now. For you- for us,” you make him look at you again.

“I know that you’ll still be gone a week or two, but I can manage. I can’t not have you in my life anymore though. And I’ll do everything in my power to make you trust me again, to make you understand how much I love you,” you finish and his lips are pressed to yours again.

He kisses you desperately, his hands traveling all over in hopes of touching every single piece of you he’d missed after having been without you for six months. You still remember the last time you had sex, the night of all heartbreak and regrets. It was slow and desperate all at the same time, much like your actions now.

Every now and then his hands stop moving, and yet he somehow pulls you even closer, kissing you deeply as he holds you. You let him take it all out on you, his feelings – anger, hurt, love; maybe some combination of the three. It all comes out in desperate kisses and lingering touches.  

“Will you just stay here tonight?” he asks, his voice barely audible, his forehead pressed against yours.

And even if you’ve told him that you would stay forever if he’d let you, even if you’re offering to love him with all your might, he still asks you to stay like you’re leaving in the morning and never coming back.

“Yes, I promise,” you say, as clearly and confidently as you possibly can with the weight of your lost trust on your chest.

You climb out of his lap, planting your feet on the floor again. With his hands in yours you pull him up as well, and the two of you make your way through the apartment like you used to before, without a word being exchanged. You make sure the door is locked, while he takes the empty glasses to the dishwasher. You switch off the lights on your way to his bedroom, and while he stops to move some stuff off his bed you make your way into his en-suite.

The sight in front of you tugs at your heartstrings for what’s probably the tenth time that day, and you’re frozen in your spot in front of the mirror. William’s voice is what snaps you out of your trance, even if his voice is low and soft, shy and almost defensive.

“I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away,” he says, motioning to your old toothbrush that’s still taking up space in the cup with his own, along with the toothpaste.

You can feel his body coming up behind you and you immediately turn around and bury your face in his chest, letting his arms embrace you.

“I’ll get you a new one tomorrow,” he whispers into your hair, like the issue at hand is the fact that your toothbrush is over six months old - not the fact that he still has it after six months.

“Come on, let’s get ready,” he whispers into your hair, placing his hand on your neck, tilting your head up with his thumb placed on your jaw.

He looks stronger – more secure, but still vulnerable when he tilts his head to the side as he studies your face before he leans down and kisses away the stray tear on your cheek. His other hand moves from your waist to your face, pointer finger lightly stroking a few strands of hair behind your ear, then using his hand to guide your lips to his. He kisses you softly, once or twice. And then another kiss placed on your forehead before he places his hands on your shoulders, turning you around and leading you the rest of the way over to the sink. You brush your teeth together, and he hands you a fresh towel after you wash away the tear stains.

You hang the towel and when you turn back to him, he’s watching you. You smile softly when you meet his eyes, and it warms your heart when a smile tugs at his lips as well. He pulls you into him by your hips, placing a kiss on your lips before pulling back again.

“You know, I don’t wear this number anymore,” he smiles, even though there’s a sad truth behind his words.

“I know,” you chuckle, “that was the reason behind one of many breakdowns today,” you tell him, returning his smile.

Your words has him pulling you into a hug, “I’m sorry if me showing up today made everything worse for you,” he mumbled into your hair.

You sigh, hugging him harder, “It was a lot, and it has been a tough day, but I’m happy you did. I’m here now, and I wouldn’t have been if you didn’t,” you tell him, pulling back to look at him.

“It has been a tough six months,” William sighs, and you’re immediately pulling him back into the hug – this time your hands are around his neck.

“Yeah, and I’ll never stop apologizing for it,” you sigh in return.

His lips touch your neck, and you find yourself nuzzling into the crease between his shoulder and his neck, breathing in the smell of him.

“I love you,” he whispers, both the feeling of hearing him say those words and his breath and lips moving against your skin gives you goosebumps.

“I love you, too, baby,” you hum, the pet name just slipping out so naturally. His arms tighten around you and his lips press another kiss to your neck – a lingering one.

He pulls back, his hand coming up to push the hair out of your face while he still holds you close. You can’t read the look on his face, but a small smile tugs his lips upwards before they’re pressed to yours. The kiss is soft at first, but after a deep intake of breath, he comes back stronger – with more force. With one hand curled around you, holding you close with his flat palm on your lower back, his other hand travels up your body until it’s positioned on the back of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair as his kisses advance to the next level.

You’re clinging to his t-shirt, asking yourself if it’s too early to let your hands wander underneath the fabric. While you ponder, your kisses became more demanding and you can feel his tongue on your bottom lip as you’re already opening your mouth, waiting to feel his tongue against yours. The hand on your back moves up, arm sliding around your waist and you’re pulled even closer, to the point where you’re on your toes to accommodate the height difference between you two. You hum against his lips, loving the feeling that having his body so close to yours gives you. Your hands disappear underneath his shirt finally, palms spread flat on his back, his defined muscles moving underneath your fingers as his arms move to touch you all over.

Your hands slip away from him when he bends down and grips the back of your thighs, lifting you up and letting you lock your legs around his waist. You’re carried into the bedroom where you’re placed onto the bed, his body following closely after. His lips find their way back to yours immediately, open mouthed kisses and tongues sliding against each other as his body presses to yours. Before you let your fingers tangle in his hair, you find the hem of t-shirt, pulling it up to the point where he gets up on his knees to pull it over his head and throw it to the floor.

You admire his body in the low lighting, the room just barely illuminated by the still open door into the en-suite, where you’d left the light on. Before his body pushes close to yours again, you let your fingers slide over his torso, to his chest and up his neck, until they end up on each side of his face. You bring him back to you, lips meeting in another open mouthed kiss. His hands find their way underneath the hoodie that once had been his, his big palm moving over your skin as he’s hovering over you. Your eyes meet for a second before he sits back on his knees and uses both his hands to rid you of both the hoodie and the t-shirt you had on underneath. As soon as it’s off, you start the process of taking off your jeans, popping open the bottom and sliding the zipper down. William takes over, slowly pulling them off your legs one leg at the time.

With a strong arm around your waist, he manages to move you underneath the comforter, following closely after as soon as he’s ridded himself of his sweats. This time, when his lips touch yours, it’s not desperate. Your kisses are slow and soft. His hand slides down your side while his lips stay glued to yours, every emotion poured into the way he touches you and the way he kisses you. Curling your leg over his hip, you pull him closer to you – the motion has his hardened member pressing into your thigh, making you moan softly into the kiss.

While you arch into him, searching for more, his hand slides to your back, finding the clasp of your bra. You help him get the straps of your arms, and he lets your bra fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Rolling to the side, he slides his thigh further up between yours, making you moan against his kiss. Missing the sounds he would make in the dark on nights just like this one, you let your hand slide down his torso, moving over his abs and all the way down to his hardened member – covering the bulge with your hand, giving him a little sense of pleasure.

The sound escaping his lips, vibrating against yours, sends another wave of warmth and need through your body. Your hands on him and his bare body pressed against yours must have the same effect on him as it has on you, making him press his body even closer to yours as he deepens the kiss and his hold on you tightens. His palm covers one of your boobs, your nipple soon pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. The action has you gasping, making it possible for William to slip his tongue into your mouth again.

He’s rolling over you and kissing down your neck as his hands wander further down your body. One of his hands slip down your back and into the back of your underwear, pushing you against him while he simultaneously roll into you, making his need for you more known. One of his long fingers slip between your legs, feeling the wetness between your thighs. This has another soft moan slip from your lips, and you can feel the result of your effect on his body.

Desperation takes over and your panties are being pulled down your thighs. As soon as they’re off, he’s moving to lay between your legs, rolling his hips into yours while his lips are back on yours in a deep and open mouthed kiss that has you clenching your legs around him in the hopes of some release.

No words are being said, but he knows exactly what you need. One hand slips between your bodies, two fingers slipping inside you as he pulls his lips from yours only to continue leaving kisses down your neck and chest. He spends time on both your nipples before continuing his trail of kisses down your torso while his two fingers are sliding in and out of your soaking hole. Your fingers clench in the hair on top of his head immediately – naturally – as he finally reaches the place that needs him most right now.

His tongue slides up your slit, finding your clit expertly, as if you hadn’t been apart for six months. His lips closes around your sensitive nub and with the help of his thick fingers, your thighs are closing around his head and you’re already balancing on the edge of your climax. He knows the signs still, having memorized the unique sounds of your different moans and the way your insides clench around him, and how your body tenses before you’re about to hit your high a long time ago. He knows what the desperate but soft moan that slips from your throat means, especially when it’s combined with your fist tensing in his hair – he knows that if he pushes the tips of his fingers against your g-spot and sucks on your clit, you’ll come.

So he does, and he pushes himself up from being mostly hid underneath the blanket just in time to watch you while you’re still in it. And with his fingers still inside you, he makes it last longer, makes another couple of breathy moans fill his ears. You open your eyes and they immediately find his, and within a second his lips are on yours in an open mouthed kiss, letting you taste yourself. He leaves a trail of wet kisses down to your ear, and he listens to you gasp as he lets his fingers slide out of you.

“I could listen to you cumming all night long,” he mumbles, the first words shared between you since before you left the bathroom. His words making another breathy moan slip out of you. He kisses your jaw before he pulls back a few inches, leaning on one arm as he places a hand on the side of your cheek, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. “Most beautiful sound I know,” he breathes, a small smile on his lips as he watches your cheeks heat up.

You shake your head lightly with a smile tugging at the ends of your lips, sliding your arms around his neck and pulling him back down and into a deep kiss. A couple of minutes with your lips on his and you’re tugging at his boxers, pushing them as far down as you possibly could from your position under his much bigger body.

While he works on kicking off the last article of clothing keeping you apart, you curl fingers around his shaft, watching his reaction as his movements halt and he clenches his eyes shut for a second. Once he manages to get rid of his boxers, he surges forward – attaching his lips to yours. Simultaneously you spread your legs wider for him, and he takes over – replacing your hand with his. He teases your entrance with letting the head of his hardened member slide through your folds. You gasp, your mouth on his, and he slides into you fully – his hand coming to cup the side of your face again.

When you’re both accustomed to the feeling, his lips press to yours, the hand on your cheek holding you to him as he pours everything into the kiss. Once he’s ready, his fingers move down the side of your body, reaching behind your thigh and hiking it up over his hip. He starts moving, pulling out almost all the way before he pushes back in. He finds a steady rhythm, kissing you deeply while you keep your hands in his hair.

Everything contributes to the feeling of being completely full – being complete; His lips on yours, his beard softly scratching against your face, his calloused hands on your body, his grip on your thigh, his breath against you, his chest against yours. And on top of that, being with him again. Being his and him being yours. Just knowing that he still loves you like you love him.

He sits back on his knees, bringing you with him and making sure he’s still deep inside you. He grabs your leg, and you think he might put it over his shoulder, like he used do when he wanted to go a little rougher, but instead he moved it to the other side where it could join your other leg. He swallows a groan as the new position has you clenching around him, but then he slides down behind you – his arm sliding under your head as he spoons you.

He pulls the covers back over the two of you, before he’s back to gripping your thigh – this time to help you hold your leg up as he starts moving again. He buries his face into your hair and neck, lightly biting at your skin as he muffles his moans and groans. Everything about the new position feels amazing. It feels close, and so good. And it feels like love. His arms around you, the way his arms are curled under your head and over your chest, holding you so close to him – it feels like being safe. Like you’re safe for the first time in half a year. And you wonder if it feels like that for him as well, or if it feels like exact opposite.

You unclench your fist, letting go of the sheet you’ve been holding onto for dear life. Instead you reach up and curl your fingers around his hand, hoping that he’ll feel as safe as you do. He kisses your shoulder, again and again, and every time you’re filled to the brim with how much you love him. And how much you’ve missed him.

“I love you,” you breathe softly, your voice so low and airy that you’re not sure if he heard you.

But he does. He let’s go of your thigh bringing his hand up to help tilt your head towards his, pressing his lips to yours as soon as he gets the chance – stopping his movements for a couple of seconds just to kiss you; to say it back; “I love you, too, so much,” he said between two kisses.

When he pulls back from the kiss, he pushes into you with more force. He rolls over you, to the point where you’re almost on your stomach. His hand slips down your torso, and all the way until he can put two fingers on your clit, in the hope to help you closer to your climax.

“I’m so close, baby,” he almost whines, his words vibrating as he’s speaking into the skin of your shoulder.

With his fingers working on your clit, a moan is the only answer you’re able to get out. Soon, he’s burying his face into your neck and hair again, clenching his teeth as he uses the last of his energy to send you over the edge with the use of his fingers combined with his thrusts.

As soon as he feels the familiar feeling of your insides clenching and unclenching, over and over again, around him, he lets go. His body feels heavy as he’s almost on top of you. His arms give out under him, and even if he’s heavy against you, you love it. You love that he’s there, that you can feel him. You love the way his heavy breath feels against your neck, the way his chest moves against your back with every breath he takes. And you love how he kisses your shoulder when he’s gathered enough strength and willpower to push himself off you.

But as soon as you turn around, he’s putting more of his weight back on you – much like he’d done earlier that day when he came to your apartment. Nuzzling his face into your neck, pressing his lips to the junction between your neck and your shoulder. You slide your arms around him in an embrace, pressing your lips to his forehead – like you wanted to this afternoon, but felt like you couldn’t. Or felt like it wasn’t your place.

You stay like that, your arms around him, fingers tracing soothing circles on his shoulder blade, until you have to get up and use the bathroom. You can feel his cum sliding out of you and onto your thighs, and you would rather not have it on the bed.

“Mm, get up,” you murmur, pushing at his shoulder.

“What? Why?” his head shoots up, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“I have to use the bathroom, Will,” you tell him in confusion, not sure why he’d reacted that way.

“Oh, yeah,” he nods, leaning on his arm to let you slide out from under him.

It’s first when you’re sitting on the toilet of his en-suite that you realize why he reacted that way. And you bite your lip as you try to swallow the ball that’s growing in your throat and making it hard to breathe. You can’t handle more tears for today, and you’re not sure you’ve got any left.

“Hey, you okay?” his almost naked form shows up in the doorway, meeting your eye in the mirror.

He’s put on a fresh pair of boxers, and he’s leaving a pile of both your clothes and his in his laundry basket, except for your jeans and your bra, which he hangs over the edge of the bathtub. You turn towards him, nodding bravely, just hoping that he’ll take it. You step closer to him, reaching up to slide your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug, in which he pulls you into, tightly, with his arms around your waist.

“I’m gonna stay, I promise,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his jaw before you pull back, landing back down on your feet after having stood on the tip of your toes.

You leave him in the bathroom, planning on crawling back into bed. William follows you out after turning off the light and closing the door behind him.

“Do you want something to sleep in?” he asks, stopping by the door that leads into his closet.

“Yes, please,” you smile, and the side of his lip tugs up into what you assumed he meant to be a smile. It’s forced, and his reaction earlier is still burned into your mind, sending your thoughts into a spiral.

He comes out with a pair of boxers and a big t-shirt. You pull on the boxers, and even if you have the weight of your betrayal nagging in the back of your head, you can’t help but smile to yourself at the familiarity of the fabric and the memories that comes to mind – of the first time you stayed the night and you’d spent the entire next day in a pair of his boxers and a hoodie, because neither of you wanted you to have to leave his apartment. Next, he’s helping you put on the t-shirt, pulling it over your head and letting you shove your arms into the wide sleeves.

This time, when the side of his lip is tugged up to the side, it doesn’t look forced, and he leans down to press a kiss to your cheek, before pushing you towards the bed. You climb into the middle, laying down on your back and spreading out, inviting him to press his cheek to your chest. He smiles again, fully, climbing in after you – letting his strong arms slide around your waist but stopping to hover above you. His pointer finger runs over your cheek, brushing your hair behind your ear and letting his hand stay put on the side of your face while he kisses you sweetly.

“I love you,” he says, leaning in for another kiss before you can say the words back to him. This kiss lingers, leaving you with tingling lips as he lays down, placing his head on your chest.

“I love you, too, Will,” you hum, pressing your lips to his forehead and moving your arms around him, one hand resting on his back and the other on his bicep. “So much,” you add, deciding to take every chance you could to let him know how much you really did love him. He hums back, nuzzling into your neck and then he’s asleep.

~

“I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” you mumble, his head rested on your chest as you lay back on the many pillows of his bed, your arm over his shoulder, your palm rested flat over his abs.

It’s morning again and even if he fell asleep the second he closed his eyes, you barely got an hour of sleep, your mind racing all night. His silence confirms your statement.

“You wake up every time I move, turning around or lifting your head up, looking straight at me. I could be all tangled up with you and you still didn’t wake up when I got up to pee in the middle of the night or get up to go to school. It’s like you’re just unconsciously waiting for me to leave you again,” you speak, thinking about how the man who could sleep through a hurricane woke up every time you moved more than an inch.

“I’m not doing it on purpose. I can’t help it,” he whispers after a while.

“I know,” you breathe, kissing the top of his head. He takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips.

“It’s just that no one has ever hurt me like you did,” he starts, and you have to clench your teeth together to stop yourself from breaking out into sobs immediately. “But then again I have never loved anyone like I love you,” he says, squeezing your hand.

After a minute of silence he turns around, finding you with glossed over eyes, and the second your eyes meet his you can’t hold back any of the tears or the sobs for another second. You’re pulled into his arms, and he lets you cry it all out.

“I wish I could take it all back,” you sob, ”I’ll do everything in my power to make you trust me again,” you add, a little bit calmer.

“I know, baby, I know you will,” he coos, threading his fingers through your hair, kissing your tear stained cheek.