#this changes everything and sometimes not

[dduane]

I have been trying to write fic (well, smut) set in a world where certain things are slightly different to serve the fic's plot.

However, each time I try I have run into a problem: my head insists I need to justify the changes - I need to know comprehensive details about how the world works so I can ensure everything is consistent and not too f'd up.

So I get bogged down, and don't write a word. What do?

In your position, I’d sit down and write myself a bible.

This is how I did my prep for Barbie: Fairytopia.* And how I’ve done it for various works of fic presently on AO3… and how I’m doing it right now for the new Sherlock Holmes and the Giant Rats of Sumatra III project. I was taught this art by my animation story editors at Hanna-Barbera, and it’s stood me in good stead. (Peter and I pulled down our first miniseries assignment from a company that told us “we gave great bible.” And that was true.) 😄

When I say “bible” I don’t necessarily mean something that thick! (Though some of mine have been pretty hefty, with one TV project’s bible running more than a hundred pages… because I knew I had skeptical and underinformed TV execs to convince about something historical.) For the kind of purpose we’re describing here, your prep bible could be quite short: maybe looking like a bullet-pointed “shopping list”, five or ten pages long. It can be just as long or short as it needs to be to cover all your salient points.

The idea is simply to put down, in concrete form, a list of the main “different things” you need to know and remember about your alternate universe when you’re working in it. This is where you do your justification work, in as much or as little detail as you need to convince yourself you’ve got the necessary bases covered. The virtual “stage manager” who sits at the back of the theater of the Writing Department in your mind, judging when things are right, will be your guide here, and will advise you as to when you’ve got enough and it’s time to stop. And once this stuff is down on the page, you’ll be a position to judge critically whether everything makes enough sense to work with, and slots together correctly.

This is also a bit like (for the prose part of a project) outlining, in that it’s incredibly freeing. Once you’ve got this background nailed down, you know you can safely turn your attention away from it and get down to the serious business: drama, and the character interactions that express it. (And inevitably as you’re doing the bible writing, you start getting ideas for how the substrate you’re laying down is going to affect the conflicts between and among the characters. The bible stage can be incredibly fruitful this way.)

It would be facile to describe the bibling process as “getting the easy part over with first”. Because sometimes it’s not easy! But it’s worth doing first, because having done this first relieves you of the ongoing anxiety caused by knowing you may have to keep inventing or rationalizing stuff on the fly. (Which can produce the kind of micro-blocks that a writer can generally really do without.) …Not that you’re not going to be inventing things on the fly anyway: that’s a normal part of the writing process. But the biggest and most obvious issues will have been handled already, and you’ll know they have; which is always a weight off one’s mind. And the fewer of those weights you have loading you down, when you’re in the midst of the labor of composition, the better.

Anyway, give it a shot and see how it works for you. And then you can, like the rest of us smut writers, get on to the really pressing business: making sure you haven’t lost track of where all the characters’ arms and legs (and things) are when you’re writing those hot steamy sex scenes. 😏

Hope this helps!

*ETA: My remit on this job did include creating a bible for them. But I write a rough-draft one for myself first, including various meta that I needed but they didn't.

[imsofreakingtired]

modern!sevika - cute/silly hcs

(that picture,, shes so precious jdhjfsdhnd)

will walk confidently into the room and stand there staring blankly, completely forgetting what she came in there for. sees you and gives you a kiss on the forehead. leaves. 5 seconds later she comes back, grabs her prosthetic arm, and walks out again

lowkey likes when it snows and the streets are icy because that gives her an excuse to make you hang onto her arm in order not to slip (she never slips)

rarely dreams, and when she does it's mostly nightmares, but sometimes she sleep talks the most random things. you wake up to hear her mumbling something like "the chicken is crisper when it's burnt, but i don't want your oil." will also answer you in her sleep if you ask her follow-up questions. remembers none of it in the morning.

or she'll just swear in her native language and you've picked up enough Hindi to wonder whose mother she is cursing.

gets car ad jingles stuck in her head periodically and is always humming something under her breath as she works or vacuums or whatever

has incredible navigational skills when walking or taking public transport but somehow gets lost every time she drives. google maps is the bane of her existence.

falls asleep in front of the TV at 9:30 sharp like a middle aged dad. i mean the TV could be on full blast, in the middle of a climactic action scene and she's knocked out snoring. but when you wake her up to get her into bed she will not be able to fall back asleep until well past midnight

whenever she sneezes and you automatically say "bless you" she NEVER FAILS to give you a deadpan look and say "i am not blessed."

will cackle at bad jokes long after you stop even pretending to find them funny

she's an unwilling morning person. always up early but never happy about it.

when she's stressed she just disappears and fixes something. one time she replaced all the handles of every sink in the house

reads almost exclusively non-fiction books on mechanics, neuroscience, and roman history.

has awful hearing and makes you repeat yourself 23 times every time you say something to her from another room...

...but then gets irritated if someone makes her do the same thing.

loses everything somehow. her keys. her glasses. her arm. her left boot. her books. her other boot. her wallet.

(and she never fails to give you a heart attack about it. she'd say in the most casual fuckin voice, "i swear my wallet was just here." and you take off searching for it only for her to find it in her pocket)

sometimes you have cozy nights in together: bake cookies, burn incense, smoke a joint. she is extremely sweet when she's high. she can't stop giving you little kisses all over and tells you huskily that you're the best thing that ever happened to her.

but also in her normal state she has a habit of bluntly saying things that hurt you unintentionally. like when you need her to give emotional reassurance, but she gives you a stone cold solution instead.

she's learned this hurts you and tries to watch her words. not always successfully, but you know she tries.

will never touch social media and no amount of teasing, begging, persuading, cajoling will get her to change her mind.

does not particularly like kids but has a sixth sense when it comes to looking after them. like one time at a family barbecue she caught the little kid of your relative when he fell off a tree branch, single-handedly, purely by instinct. he might have broken a bone otherwise or worse. she becomes something of a local legend for that event.

has the funniest bedhead in the mornings like her hair sticks out everywhere. you want to take a picture and use it as her contact pfp but you also don't want to die

will do the taxes with ease but she's uncomfortable with customer service phone calls. every time you need to contact an agency about something she stands next to you like a nervous kid while you argue with the sales representative.

drinks way too much caffeinated tea and coffee. refuses to cut back on caffeine because of the withdrawal headaches.

will trip over literally anything. and bump into everything. never feels nor remembers where the bruises come from. kicks doors shut and flings them open and always breaks the hinges. she doesn't do this intentionally, she just forgets her own physical strength.

[enwoso]

PLAYING FOR KEEPS | leah williamson

💌 happy valentine’s day my loves x

masterlist

leah had always been proud to wear the captain armband from the moment she'd been handed it. it was everything she'd ever dreamed of as a little girl kicking a ball around with her brother in her back garden.

leading england, inspiring a nation and being part of something bigger than herself was everything she dreamed of. but as of lately the weight of that armband felt heavier than ever.

the loss to germany at wembley was still fresh, the sting of it sharp in her chest as she slumped in the changing room. around her the team moved in a haze - some quietly packing up while others tried to life the mood with half hearted jokes.

leah felt their disappointment as if it were solely her own and she knew it was her responsibility to rally them, even now. that was the job of the captain: to carry the burden, life everyone else, out the team above everything.

but everything included people like you, her girlfriend and leah wasn't sure when she stopped realising that.

leah glanced to her phone which was sat face down on the bench beside her. she hadn't checked it since halftime, knowing there'd be a text from you.

you not being able to make the match at wembley due to other work commitments but leah knew and understood and knew if you could've been you would've been the loudest one there cheering her on.

you made as many matches as you could, encouraging, supportive and loving. you were her anchor, always there to steady the blonde when the world sometimes became too much.

but anchors can only hold so much weight before they snapped.

leah sighed, running a hand through her wet hair as she grabbed her bag and muttered a quick goodbye to her teammates who barely noticed as she slipped out of the room.

mary was stood leaning against the white walls of wembley outside scrolling through her phone more than likely waiting for some of the other girls. glancing up when leah passed an eyebrow raised, "heading out already?"

"yeah" leah muttered, "need some air."

mary nodded as her expression softened but she said nothing. letting leah wander off down the hallway, wash bag slung under her arm.

as leah walked through the winding halls of wembley, her mind racing. she didn't want to go home, not yet. there'd be a post-match debrief tomorrow, tactics to dissect, strategies to reevaluate.

it was all consuming, but it had to be. the team relied on her.

except someone else relied on her too and the blonde had been neglecting that part of her life for a couple of weeks now.

you sat curled up on the sofa, having caught the last thirty minutes of the match but you were not able to sit with a hot mug of tea as your eyes flicked between the clock and your phone which sat perked on the arm of the chair.

the match now, had ended a couple hours ago. leah still wasn't home. but she'd sent a text earlier in the evening:

leah❤️ | 'sorry baby. be home soon, captain stuff. you understand x'

except with each moment when this would happen you were starting to understand less and less.

you'd been understanding for months, years even. you'd cheered leah on from the stands every minute you could, celebrated her victories and comforted her after each loss.

you'd sacrificed evening, weekends, and family commitments to make room for leah's hectic schedule. but the balance that once made your relationship with the blonde so special had shifted and now it felt like you were the only one willing to make the sacrifices.

finally after a few hours, longer than you expected her to be. leah closed the door to the apartment with a sigh, her body heavy from the loss and her mind reeling with what could've gone differently on the pitch.

the blonde barely having time to drop her bag before you appeared in the doorway of the living room, your arms crossed as you leaned against the doorframe, your expression a mixture of frustration and sadness.

"baby-" leah began but you cut her off before she even had the chance to give you another word. 

"no. don't. don't you dare try and act like everything is fine, leah."

leah froze, taken aback by the sharpness in your tone, "what are you talking about? i just-"

"no, you just ignored me again," you snapped. "i've been waiting all week for us to have some time together after you've been on camp, but you didn't even ask if i needed you after the match. instead i just got some generic excuse about 'captain duties' and left me here alone. again."

leah frowned, her defenses but also her stubbornness kicking in, "y/n, it not like i wanted to. but i had responsibilities-" 

"and what about your responsibility to me?" you interupted, your voice cracking. "what about us leah? or have we become less important than a post-match briefing?"

leah's jaw tightened, "no, no thats not fair. you know how much pressure i'm under. i'm doing this for the team - for the country! i don't have the luxury to just drop everything."

"and i'm not asking you to. you know i'm always proud of you, your biggest fan." your voice rising slightly as your frustration was beginning to build and start to spill over. "all i'm asking is for you to see me. to care enough to put me first sometimes. but instead, you keep proving over and over that everything else seems to come first; football, the team, being the perfect captain. i'm tired, leah."

you stopped as you sighed, your voice starting to feel a little shaky, "i'm tired of always coming in second."

leah stepped closer, her hands outstreched as if to physically hold you back from walking away. "y/n, please. don't say that. you're not second - i love you. i'm just.. i'm trying to do everything. i'm trying to be everthing for everyone.”

your eyes softened for a moment, but your voice remained steady. "you don't have to be everything for everyone, leah. you just have to be there for those who love you. but right now, i don't think you know how to do that and i don't think i can keep pretending like i'm okay with being left behind."

leah could feel her throat getting tighter and tighter by the second, panic beginning to set in with each word that left your lips. "so, i- what are you saying? you're leaving? baby? don't- please, don't do this." leah stutter out as she tried to reach out for you again as you brushed her off. 

you shook your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. "i'm not leaving, leah. i'm gonna go and spend the weekend at my mum's, i need some space. time to figure out if i can keep doing this, if we can keep doing this. i'll be back sometime on monday, but for now, i just need to breathe."

leah reached out grabbing your hand, her voice breaking. "y/n, please. i can't lose you. i'll do better - i promise. just.. don't go, please."

you gently pulled her hand away, you voice low and soft but firm. "i'm not leaving to punish you, leah. i just need some space. i'll see you on monday."

leah stood frozen as she watched you grab your bag which you'd obviously packed while she was taking hours to come home, as you grabbed your coat and left. the sound of the door shutting being and echoing in the now-empty apartment.

as you walked along the street towards the tube station, on route to your mum's house as the streets were gloomy lit as a cold breeze hitting your hands as your mind filled with thoughts but it was short lived as the sound of you phone buzzing snapped you out of your thoughts, glancing at the screen to see a message from beth. a link to no doubt another tiktok she'd found funny.

you hesitated before picking your phone up and typing a response, liking the message with the link before your thumbs moved quickly across the screen.

you | 'can we meet for coffee tomorrow?'

meado🐾 | 'course! the usual place at 10?'

meado🐾 | 'everything okay?'

you | 👍🏻

—

you walked into the usual coffee shop, your coat pulled tight around you protecting you from the winter air. as you spotted beth sitting at a small table near the back two cups of steaming cup of tea in front of her as she waved you over.

"you alright?" she asked as you sat down.

you paused for a minute, opening your mouth to try and say something before you shook your head, "not really," you voice heavy with emotion.

beth gave you a sympathetic smile, "figured as much, what's happened?"

you took a deep breath, your hands fiddling with the edge of your jumper. "it's le, she's.. i dunno. she's, just so caught up in every. being captain, the team, the media. i know it's important to her beth, i really do. but, but i feel like i don't exist in her world anymore.."

beth frowned, leaning forward. "she's has been distant, hasn't she?"

you nodded, your voice shaking. "she used to make so much time for us even when timings weren't great. but now? i'm lucky if i get five minutes with her where she's not thinking about football. and last night, she said she would be home straight away after the match but then she just.. disappeared. captain duties apparently."

beth let out a slow breath, the girl being out in a difficult position. leah was one of her best friends and admittedly had known the blonde longer but she knew you and how much her best friend was in love with you.

"that.. that sounds like leah. she's not the best at juggling things when she's under pressure. it's like sometimes she forgets there's a life away from the pitch"

you eyes filling with tears, "i’ve tried to be patient, beth. i've tried to understand but i feel like im screaming into the void. she keep saying she'll do better but it's always the same. and i- i don't know if i can keep doing this.."

beth reached across the table, giving your hand a squeeze, "listen, i love leah to bits but she can be stupid and stubborn but she's lucky to have you and she needs to realise that before it's too late. but just be honest with her, your not asking too much. your asking for what you deserve."

you sniffed, trying to hold back a sob. "what is she doesn't change? what if this is just.. who she is now?"

beth's expression hardened, "if she doesn't change she's the one whose going to lose but if i know leah, she's not going to let that happen."

you sighed, staring into the tea in front of you, "i feel like i'm failing her by even thinking about walking away. like i'm giving up on her.."

beth shook her head, "no your not failing her, your asking for what you need. relationships aren't supposed to be one-sided and if leah can't see how much this is hurting you. she's the one that needs to wake up."

you hesitated, you voice barely a whisper, "and if she doesn't?"

beth leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. after a long pause, she said, "then that's a question only you can answer. but if there's not thing leah doesn't do and that's give up on those she loves. sometimes she just needs a little push in the right direction."

your lips twitched into a faint smile, "you really believe that?"

beth grinned, "i do and if she doesn't get it together then i'll personally give her a good kick up the backside for you"

that pulled a small laugh out of you, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly, "thanks beth, i needed this."

"of course," beth said raising her mug in a mock toast, "just remember your not asking for anything y/n, your asking for enough and leah? she'll figure it out."

—

leah sat on the sofa, where she'd spent the past day and a half. her head in her hands as her phone lay o her chest, her mind replaying the argument from saturday night, over and over in her mind. her chest ached with guilt and frustration and for the first time, she didn't have an immediate solution to fix what she had so clearly broken.

she'd spent the entire today, sunday, in her thoughts. she hadn't moved all day, nothing in the apartment had been touched or moved as the spent it just moping around as she checked her phone every ten minutes just in case you had messaged to say you were on your way home.

you hadn't. the last message from you was: 'got to my mum's okay.'

so simple and to the point. no usual goodnight message or a simple 'i love you' nothing. and while leah knew she deserved it, she would be lying if she said it didn't sting a bit as she stared back at the bright screen.

this time her when her phone buzzed she leaped up to grab it, it must be you. it was embarrassing really how fast she scrambled to get to her phone as it sat on the coffee table. but as she saw beths name, a little part of her sunk as she sighed and picked it up reading the message.

beth | 'you better be writing a long love letter and ways to apologise before i personally mess you up, williamson!'

leah | 'not now beth. i'm already miserable."

beth | 'good, as you should be. that poor girl. y/n deserves better than the leah williamson that you've been giving her. you need to get it together before she decides she's better off without you.'

leah stared at the message, her heart sinking with each word of beth's message she read. it was ture though. beth wasn't the type to sugarcoat thing, which is something as to why the two got along for so long. 

she set her phone down, her mind racing. she couldn't afford to lose you - not when you were the one thing that made all the chaos in her life go quiet. when she was with you, the whole world stopped and leah was at peace. but promises wouldn't be enough this time. she ahd to show you that she could change, that she could be the partner you needed and wanted.

for the first time in weeks, leah wasn't thinking about tactics or training. she was thinking about the person she loved and hoped she would get to spend the rest of her life with - and how she could win you back.

—

leah didn't sleep thay night. she lay in the bed, the one you usually shared together. the bed which usually felt too small as you'd cling to leah throughout the night as if she was you personal heater. the bed feeling that little bit more bigger now you weren't in it with her.

as she stared at the ceiling, the sound of your voice from the argument playing on repeat in her head.

'you don't see me anymore, leah. you see england. you see the armband. but you forget to see me.'

every word had been a dagger to the heart. a reality check for the blonde. and for the first time in her life, leah felt truly lost in herself. she had always prided herself on being a leader, someone who could hold everything together. but she was beginning to see that her leadership had coem at a cost and a big one at that and it was one she couldn't afford to pay.

by the time the sun began to rise, leah had already been pacing the apartment scribbling notes in a notebook she'd found lying on the dinner table. pages were filled with ideas, crossed out apologies and half-formed plans to fix what she'd broken.

flowers? no, too cliché.

a handwritten letter? maybe, but it wouldn't be enough on its own.

a proper date? but what would that even look like when you were still so hurt?

leah was mid-sentence in her brainstorming when her phone buzzed.

beth | 'have you started groveling yet, or do i need to come over and supervise?'

leah | 'i'm working on it. give me a break.'

beth | 'breaks are for those who didn't mess up. times a ticking williamson.'

leah couldn't help but laugh at the message, though the weight in her chest didn't lift. she stared at her notebook again, willing herself to come up with something that would show you just how much she cared.

you returned to the apartment late that same monday night, keeping your promise just like you said you would. but as you walked through the door, you stopped in your tracks as your bag slid down your arm. the living room looked completely different.

the coffee table had been cleared as it had been previously stacked with empty water bottles. now was covered with a neatly folded tablecloth and two plates of what appeared to be your favourite pasta dish. soft candlelights flickered as faint sound of music played from the speaker in the corner.

leah stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, wringling her hands. "i, uh.. i wanted to apologise properly." the blonde said, her voice usually so confident and full of herself was quiet and so uncharacteristically nervous.

you raised an eyebrow, your eyes scanning around at the setup, "you did all this?"

"yeah" leah shifted her weight from one foot to another as she looked more like a nervous schoolgirl than the captain of england.

“i know i've messed up, y/n. i realise now i've been putting everything else above us and it's not fair to you. you're the best thing in my life and i've been treating you like an afterthought. i'm so, so sorry my love."

your arms crossed, your expression unreadable to the blonde, "le, this isn't something you can fix with dinner and candles."

leah nodded quickly, "i know, i know this is just a small step. but i'm trying, y/n. i'm trying to show you that i want to be better, i want to put you first. but i can't just say it - i have to show it.”

you hesitated, your eyes softening just a inch, "but what's changed, leah? what makes you think this time is going to be different?”

leah took a deep breath, taking a second to steady her voice, “‘cause i’m not trying to be better for you, i’m trying to be better with you. i know i’ve so focused on being captain that i’ve forgotten how to be a girlfriend. but i don’t want to lose you, y/n. you mean far too much to me.”

you looked at her for a long moment before finally sighing, “your lucky i love you, le. but this isn’t fixed yet, it’s going to take time for me to trust that things will actually change.”

leah stepped closer, pulling you closer to her wanting to feel some sort of comfort in your presence which had been missing the past day and a half. “i know. and i’ll wait as long as it takes, as long as you let me prove it to you.”

later on that night after many stolen kisses and mumbled apologies, you were sat at the table slowly eating the pasta leah had made. leah’s phone buzzing with another message from beth.

beth | ‘so? did you manage to not screw up anymore?’

leah | ‘she’s giving me a chance, but i’ve got a long way to go.’

beth | ‘good, keep groveling or i’m still coming to mess you up!’

leah | ‘noted!’

leah looked up from her face a small smile tugging at the side of her lips as your brows furrowed in curiosity. “what’s tickled you?” you asked, the sound of your fork dropping to the side of the plate as leah put her phone to one side.

“just beth threatening to mess me up if i screw up again. but i’m serious about making this work” leah said her tone getting quieter as she looked for an expression in your face as an amused look appeared on your face.

“i know” you smiled, your tone softer, “but if you do screw up, i’ll mess you up first before beth..”

a small chuckle left leah’s lips but she knew from your tone you were serious but she wasn’t planning on screwing up so in reality she had nothing to worry about.

“noted!” leah nodded, determination settling in her chest. as she moved to your side of the table and planting her lips onto yours, “i love you” she mumbled against them before pulling you back in.

[partiallysame]

How would the team act when Price's wife is on her period? (I'm sorry, just need to period comfort😭) -🐻✨

Ok so price already knew about your period he had it all down to a T (def had your cycle tracked in his phone in case he was gone and needed to send you something). You couldn’t remember the last time you bought your own period products he is a very good and attentive husband. Now he’s gotta teach 3 idiots how to handle not just women in general but you specifically. Showed them where the pain meds were, the heat pad, your not so secret sweet stash and how to keep it full without you noticing. Price could prepare them with words all he wanted but nothing could truly prepare them for you. The first time they saw you cry it was giving 3 stooges them running around and into each other trying to grab everything Price said you liked and bring it to you as fast as possible. Them doting on you almost became too much sometimes god stop touching the overstimulation is about to make you lose it. One at a time please. But maybe month 2 or 3 they got it figured out. Somehow knew what takeout you were craving before you could voice it. Knew when you wanted to be left alone and knew when you wanted to be held. The first time you bled through your pants or the sheets you were big embarrassed and that confused them “shoulda seen how much blood came out of Simon when he broke his nose. We know how to get a good stain out love”. While you were the stay at home housewife they did everything for you as much as they could (even when not on your period). Every now and then the sudden mood change would catch them off guard. The random tears or going from happy to grumpy might’ve shaken the usual man but trained soldiers can handle a little back and forth. Plus price threatened to confiscate you from them if they couldn’t figure it out.

[onepieceisreeeeaaalll]

You Have A Panic Attack | One Piece HC

Another one from the drafts. This one is a few mini blurbs. If you're someone who has panic attacks (like I do *cough cough*) then here's how they'd react.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law

CW: Panic attack, panic attack symptoms mention, GN!reader, no specific relationship mentions, could be early relationship/pre-relationship, use of (Y/N)

Check out my masterlist if you like stuff like this! I'm trying to clear out my drafts and get some stuff out for Valentine's Day.

LUFFY

The first time you had a panic attack in front of Luffy, he’s admittedly a little confused. You were hanging out on the deck of the Sunny, as per usual, goofing around and enjoying the warm sun with Luffy, Usopp and Chopper. Laughter and peace filled the air, a nice reprieve from the usual busy schedules you Straw Hats kept. It was like a switch went off, though. Seeing the change in your face, the way you politely tried to walk away and excuse yourself to go through it in private, it all set off alerts in his mind. 

“Hey, where ya goin’?” Luffy asked, following you inside the ship like a confused puppy. He couldn’t hide his disappointment that his best friend had walked away.

The moment your panic attack really set in, he grew concerned. The flushed cheeks, the heavy breathing, the look of pure dread and fear in your eyes. He had never seen you look that way without provocation, and certainly not when you were having a pretty good day up until this point.

“Whoa, whoa, what happened? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah…yeah, it’s just a p-panic attack. That’s all. I get ‘em all the time.” You tried to reassure him, though it was also an attempt to reassure yourself. Your heart was racing in your chest, pounding in that familiar way that typically made you feel so weak.

“Panic attack?” Luffy asks, tilting his head. “What’s that?”

“It’s-...Luffy, I, uh…can’t really explain it right…now…” You responded, your voice growing just a little breathier. You leaned against a wall on the inside of the hallway, your hand resting over your chest in an attempt to calm yourself. 

Luffy stood there in minor shock, unsure of what to do for a good few moments. His brain was processing, taking in what facts he knew. You were upset, sure, and normally he’d just tease someone for something like this. The look in your eyes looked so vulnerable, though - this wasn’t you acting out of anything other than pure...well, panic.

It suddenly hit - a lightbulb going off in his head. He didn’t exactly know what a panic attack was, no, but he understood vaguely the feeling you were having. Flashes of his time after Ace flooded his mind, making his own heart ache in sympathy.

“C’mere.”

Before you even know what’s happening, Luffy’s wrapped his arms around you into a hug. It’s one of his signature ones - not too tight, not too loose. It’s perfect and warm; just like Luffy. At first, you weren’t sure what to do or say, but slowly you found your arms wrapped around him in return. 

“Don’t know why you’re freaking out, but I get it. I hope you feel better.” He murmured into your ear, and his chin moved down to rest on your shoulder. 

Enveloped in Luffy, you felt your rapidly beating heart gradually, slowly, starting to steady into a slow, easy rhythm. The drummer in your chest seemed to finally have enough. Your arms tightened around his form after a moment, and Luffy returned the gesture easily.

“Thank you.”

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

ZORO

Training had become a ritual for you every morning. To your surprise, Zoro would somehow manage to claw his way out of bed early enough to join you almost every day. There’d rarely be exceptions, so you’d both fallen into this routine high up in the crow’s nest - Zoro would work on his form and swordsmanship, and you would work on basic conditioning. It was an easy way to get the blood pumping, and neither of you minded the company. 

Sometimes, though, there was a tendency for you to overdo it. When life got particularly stressful, waves of desperate anxiety and despair had a habit of ripping through you. Even with the attempts of exercise to serve as a preventative measure, it wouldn’t always help. It was on one particular morning, with the beams of the sun shining over the floorboards, that you finally fell victim to one in the presence of the swordsman.

At first, Zoro just figured you were exhausted. With a small huff, he took his sword out of his mouth, holding two of them at the same time in one hand just to laugh at you. After all, it’s kind of funny that so little activity got you huffing and puffing.

“Come on - you that out of shape?” He mocked.

But your face looked numb - empty, even. And Zoro didn’t like that at all. Shakily, as you stood up from the weight bench, you felt that familiar racing heart leave you unsteady. Great, how the hell are you gonna get down like this? You didn’t bother answering Zoro, your eyes darting to the hole in the floor that led to the ladder. It’s a long climb down, and with the sweat on your palms, you weren’t certain you could make it. Maybe that’s what made this particular panic attack worse.

That’s when the hyperventilating really set in. And Zoro didn’t like that, at all.

“Hey, what gives? You okay?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, just…” You say, attempting to sound dismissive but the breathy quality of your voice gave away your anxiety. You couldn’t even finish the sentence, and your legs felt like lead as they carried you to the exit of the crow’s nest.

“(Y/N), don’t be an idiot.” Zoro interjected quickly, reaching out to grab your wrist. It wasn’t firm, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. As you turned to look at him, all words died on his tongue. You looked scared. He let go of your wrist, looking you up and down. “Seriously, what’s wrong? You look like you’re freaked out.”

“I just…I get them sometimes, it’s not a big…” You tried to say, but your voice sounded shaky. You couldn’t trust it, and talking felt like such a monumental task paired with the exhaustion of your racing heart. 

“Get what?” He asked, furrowing his brows as he looked at you. Yeah, he didn’t get it. Not one bit. Zoro had seen you countless times on the battlefield, holding your own against some of the toughest enemies. Not once had he seen this expression from you before, at least not during a simple training routine. 

“Um…panic attacks. It’s just…my body likes to, um…” You stammered, and Zoro felt his heart clench. What the hell is a panic attack? But it didn’t matter. Whatever it was had stressed you out, and Zoro didn’t like that. At all.

Setting his swords aside, he moved over to one of the walls and took a seat easily. He looked up at you expectantly, and no words needed to be exchanged before you walked over to join him. Thighs touching, Zoro put his arms behind his head and leaned back against the wall. 

“I ever tell you about the bounty hunting I did before joining the crew?”

You were caught off-guard, and it’s enough to temporarily confuse you. Shaking your head, Zoro took it as his cue to proceed. It was a long story - he had gotten lost leaving his village and decided to pick up bounty hunting, call it training. As you leaned against him and listened, you eventually began to interject with your own comments and questions. Jokes spilled out of both of you, and that vein pulse through your body steadily went to the back of your head. Before you knew it, laughs became less breathless and the stable feeling of Zoro’s arm against yours felt like an anchor. Maybe later he’d ask you about panic attacks, what they are, and how long you’ve had them. For now, though, he was content to just talk to you and see that smile return to your face.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

SANJI

You weren’t exactly sure what started it - whether it was the loud noises at dinner, the texture of the food as you scraped the pans clean, or the fact that you had carelessly dropped a dish and shattered it onto the ground. Regardless of what had actually gotten to you, your body felt that familiar rise of dread and paranoia that always signaled the start of a really, really long night. Sanji had assured you when you dropped the plate that it was fine, that he could clean it, and that you really didn’t need to help him clean up after dinner. After all, it was his responsibility, even when you insisted on spending this time with him every night.

That wasn’t enough to ease your mind or your racing pulse.

You sat down on a chair at the edge of the kitchen, hoping to catch your breath. You pressed your cool hands against your face, but it did nothing to abate the flush of anxiety pooling blood to your cheeks. Sanji being Sanji, it took him all of five seconds after throwing away the broken glass to notice that you weren’t okay.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, quirking a curled eyebrow as he looked at you. That look in your eyes when you turned your attention to him made his heart clench. Something was very, very wrong. “Don’t worry about the dish,” He added quickly, hoping that maybe this was the issue, “We have plenty. If you’d like, I can-”

“Sanji, please.” You murmured, burying your face in your hands again. This wasn’t like you, and that set off warning bells in his head yet again.

Taking a few measured steps forward, he bent down on one knee to look at you. You were shaking, your face was flushed, and it didn’t seem like you had any reason to be afraid. Yet, here you were, hiding your face from him in his kitchen.

“Mon amour, can you look at me?”

Something about that made you want to curl up into a ball and disappear. Maybe it was because he was so gentle, or maybe it was the shame of having this happen in front of him. Regardless, with a lot of reluctance, you peeked your eyes over your hands to meet his gaze. You were met with Sanji’s brows knitted, his eyes narrowed as he observed your expression carefully. For his part, Sanji had taken particular notice of your unsteady breathing. He thought he had an idea of what was going on, even if he didn’t fully understand what had started it. With a sigh, he stood up and took his pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

“Can you do something for me?”

Your hands slowly dropped from your face down into your lap as you looked up at him. You watched as he lit up a cigarette, and he took your silence as you were either too upset to talk or at least willing to listen. With that permission, he continued.

“I want you to count down from a hundred. Can you do that? And when you’re finished, tell me how many things in this kitchen are blue.” He said simply, taking a drag from his cigarette. He was careful to blow the smoke away from you, and it was something that even in your panic attack, you appreciated. He was always so considerate.

“What?” You asked, your voice breathless. 

Sanji hummed at your question, flashing you a warm smile.

“Just trust me. Do it aloud, okay? I wanna hear it.” 

So, after a few moments of careful contemplation, you did. Unsteadily, you closed your eyes as you focused on each number. Your voice was still shaky when you reached the end, but you managed to get through it. When you opened your eyes, you looked around the kitchen and easily identified each blue item. Some kitchen towels, Sanji’s shirt, his eyes, a few cooking utensils. Sanji would occasionally ask for details, and by the end of it, you realized you weren’t shaking anymore. Your body was still, your heart was normal, and you felt…exhausted, but better. In your silence, Sanji let out a small laugh and put out his cigarette before walking over to the counter across the kitchen. He had to resume cleaning up, after all.

“That always helped me when I felt weird. Figured it might help you, too.” He answered as if he had predicted exactly what you were thinking. “Next time it happens, come find me. I’d be happy to help you out.”

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

LAW

You were walking through the halls of the Polar Tang, intent on getting some work done. Life wasn’t always easy on the ship, but the crew itself made it feel as though the sun wasn’t all that far away even hundreds of miles beneath the surface. It had been weeks since the ship had been anywhere near the open air, though, and that craving for freedom was starting to grate on everyone’s nerves.

You made it just outside of Law’s office, holding a logbook of some patients under your arms that you intended to show him. As your hand came up to knock on the door, though, the panic attack set in. It came as it always did - quickly, brutally, and with a raging need to be attended to immediately. You took a deep breath, trying to force your body to calm down with the knowledge that you’ve already knocked on Law’s door. It’s too late to walk away and come back later.

The moment Law opened the door, his face as neutral and uncompromising as always, he knew something was wrong. He couldn’t quite place it, but there was something off about you. You looked almost surprised to see him there despite the fact that you knocked.

“(Y/N)-ya?” He asked, his tone as disinterested as his expression.

You took another deep breath, grabbing the book beneath your arm with shaky hands and holding it out to him.

“Here. I just needed to…give you this.” You said, your voice shaky and noticeably just a little labored.

“Thank you…” Law replied, a hint of skepticism in his tone as he accepted the book. He noticed the way your hands lingered on the book, almost like you were forgetting to let it go, and that was the last straw for Law. Something was clearly wrong. 

As you began to turn to leave his office, his hand darted out to gently grab your wrist. This didn’t help your anxiety, not one bit, and you froze in response. This didn’t go unnoticed by the surgeon.

“Hey, come in for a minute. I want to show you something.” He said, and his tone was as stern as usual, leaving no room for argument. Not that you could argue right now, anyway. 

You let him lead you into his office, the familiar cluttered spaces making you feel all the more claustrophobic. Ah, that’s what it was - the walls were closing in, leaving your lungs lacking air and your heart palpitating. Sometimes it was a little game to figure out what had set off the panic attack in the first place. 

And it seemed Law had somehow figured that out, too. He led you to his chair and gently sat you down, letting go of your wrist. You didn’t bother watching as he fumbled with something behind you, and before you knew it, a bright light shined down and provided warmth. You finally turned back to look at him, your brows furrowed. You’re met with that same unaffected stare as he moved around you, leaning a hand and his hip against his desk.

“It’s not good to be without sunlight for so long. I picked one of these UV lamps up at a port a few islands back. I think I’ll be buying a few more for the sub.” Law explained, speaking of it as if it’s something as mundane as the weather. For you, though, you feel your heart spike. This time, not with anxiety - anticipation.

“Really?” You asked, and that hopeful lilt in your voice made the doctor smile just a fraction. 

“Yeah.” He responded simply, and he turned his gaze to a porthole on the far wall. Then, to your surprise, he kept speaking. “Panic attacks are pretty common, (Y/N)-ya, and I know them when I see them. I have some reading I’d like to give you, and maybe we can talk medication at some point. For now, just try to relax and soak in the UV.”

You were nearly floored at his response. You’d tired yourself out so often having to explain what panic attacks were, how they affected you, and why they came up. But Law knew. Of course he did. You remained silent for a moment before leaning back in his chair, closing your eyes to take his advice. This pleased him more than words could say.

Your heart was still racing, that dread making you feel dizzy, but the warmth of the UV light was almost soothing. You heard Law rustling with some things on his desk, busying himself, and he began to read some of the logs from the book you’d given him out loud. You weren’t sure if it was more for himself or for you, but his voice did add that last touch to help relax and calm you down. When you felt your heart return to normal, and your lungs were satisfied with the oxygen you provided them, you finally settled down into a restful sleep in Law's chair. He was grateful that you couldn't see the small smile that rose to his lips.

[luvyeni]

DARK VALENTINE 𝕼. ( 박종성 )

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 박종성 x fem!reader )   ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. yandere, unhealthy relationships, dollification, oral sex (m), unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink word count. 4k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

synopsis … today of all days was a special one for him; today he was gonna make it so you relied on him forever and on jays favorite day out of the entire year… valentines day …

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ THIS IS DARK CONTENT. please don’t read if you don’t like it . Also happy Valentine’s Day

you established long ago that your relationship with your boyfriend jay probably wasn't the healthiest relationship you could be in; but you were too far gone. 4 long years trapped in his web of love bombing to even get out of the situation — and you didn’t even know if you wanted out anymore.

in the beginning you tried your best to leave him; but he had a way with you, a hold on your mind that made you come back every single time without missing a beat.

jay did everything; he made the money, bought your clothes that he dressed you himself in every day, he did your hair the way he liked. he didn’t allow you to wear makeup unless it was a special occasion, but even then it was to his liking. you were his doll; he was training you to only rely on him, and that you did and he loved it as sick as it was.

and today of all days was a special one for him; today he was gonna make it so you relied on him forever and on jays favorite day out of the entire year… valentines day; the day of love. “wake up princess.”

he kissed your cheek; your stomach slowly rising up and down as you slept next to him. the pink nightgown he dressed you in the night before rising up your thighs. “it’s time to get up princess.” his hands resting on your stomach; the carnal urge to straddle you and push his hard dick inside you, breeding you over and over until you’re cunt dripping with his cum. “fuck.” he groaned out, not yet he thought he had to wait , he had the whole day planned for this special day — he’ll get his time in due time.

“baby wake up.” his hand that was on your stomach; now making its way down to your lower region , your eyes began to flutter open. “that’s it baby.” he cupped your heat. “jong-jongie.” your stuttered he moved your panties to the side. “you’re so wet down here, did you dream about daddy while you were sleeping?” he pushed his finger inside you. “answer me.”

“ye-yes.” you moaned out, he rewarded you by adding a second finger. “yes what princess?” you knew what he wanted , and he was gonna get it. “ye-yes daddy.” he curled his fingers inside you. “you’re gonna cum for me okay?” he sped his fingers up. “gonna cum for me so we can get you ready for the day.” you nodded. “cum now.” and just like always; on his command you came all over his fingers. “jongie!” you moaned loudly and he’d calmed you down. “so loud princess , the neighbors are gonna hear and give us a noise complaint.

“mmh , so-sorry jongie.” you tried to catch your breath. “good girl.” he said. “let’s get up to get ready.” you whined. “but i'm tired.” and just for a moment, you saw the darkening of his eyes, the clenching of his jaw — this is what made you feel uncomfortable around him sometimes; scared even. “get up.”

the change in his voice made you raise up quickly, but not quick enough to make him know that you were scared of him, he hated it when you acted like you were afraid of him. his hand coming from in between your legs, pushing his fingers into your mouth. “good girl.” he pushed his fingers down on your tongue. “that’s my girl , you listen so well.” he chuckled. “If you keep listening, today could be a really good one.” you nodded. “ok-okay jongie.”

“time for a shower baby.” he held your hand walking you into the bathroom. “arms up baby.” grabbing the hems of your nightgown, pulling it over your head , he turned the shower on making sure it was at the perfect temperature. “come on , let’s get in.”

he waited for you to get in before he got in, the water cascading down your body. “you look so pretty princess.” his hands massaging all over your body. “thank you jongie.” he smiled , the way your eyes were always glazed over , wide. your mind empty from everyday worries except jay. “i have a lot planned for today.” you felt him pressing himself against you; the burn in your stomach coming back. “we’re gonna take a trip out today.” your eyes lit up; this was rare — almost nonexistent.

he almost never let you out. “it’s too dangerous out there princess , it’s not safe.” he always said; at first you complained, you even tried to leave a few times, only to be met with grave consequences. now you don’t even ask, not because you’re scared , but because it doesn’t really appease you to leave anymore , but days like this, special occasions when he let you go , you couldn’t help but get excited — that was probably the rational part of your brain letting you know that this wasn’t normal and that you needed to leave.

“don’t look to excited baby , it will make me think you’re trying to leave.” you nodded. “no jongie , never.” you felt him grinding against you. “fuck.” he groaned , looking at where your bodies met , his hard cock in between your ass. “da-daddy i need you.” he groaned. “not yet , baby that’s for later.” he said , pulling you close to him , bringing his hand to your clit , running circles. “but you can cum , cum on my fingers.” he whispered in your ears. “be a good doll and cum.” he could easily just slide his dick inside you and fuck you , but he wanted to wait , he needed to practice self control — but that was hard when you were grinding your ass against his cock , and cumming all over his fingers. “daddy.”

he pulled away; kissing your cheek. “good girl, you cum so well for daddy.” he grabbed your sponge , and his favorite scented soap on you. “let’s get you cleaned up.” he began washing your body; you wanted to tell him you could do it , you were an adult who could clean themselves, but the other side of you told you this was perfectly fine. “you smell so nice, baby.” he said, inhaling your scent. “just how i want you to.”

he already had the clothes he wanted you to wear picked out from the night before. “this is just to wear for now , later on you’ll wear something more pretty.” he helped you into your clothes , fixing your hair , making sure it was up to his standards. “we’re done now , let me quickly get dressed , and then we can leave for our breakfast.”

after he got dressed , the two of you were off to your favorite breakfast place — after all it was valentines day. “here you go baby.” he pulled the chair out from the table letting you sit down. “today you can pick whatever you want , only because it’s a special day.” you silently nodded, just as a waiter came over. “hello.” he looked at you. “hi.” you waved, jay didn’t like that. “excuse me can you just take the order.” you held your head down. “jongseong.”

“of-of course.” the waiter stuttered out; you can tell he was scared, the man before you was very intimidating, he was held at a high status and you could tell he was by the way he carried himself. “what can i do for both of you?”

the waiter left and he followed him with his eyes; he could easily get that kid fired if he wanted. “there’s no need to do anything irrational.” you spoke at a low tone , anyone else wouldn’t have been able to hear you , but jay could — and he was upset. “i-im just saying — are you defending him right now?” he asked. “no of course not im just saying this is a good day , it’s valentines day , your favorite day.” you quickly said. “don’t let a stupid waiter ruin it.” you felt bad for calling him stupid , he was just doing his job; but that was nothing compared to an angry jay. “let’s just enjoy our breakfast.”

jay kept a close eye on you while you ate; wiping your mouth when you get some on your face, glaring at the waiter every time he came over to simply ask if you were okay , or if you wanted the bill. “you can bring us the bill.” he said , disdain in his voice. “can’t wait to get out of here.” he said , annoyed; but he didn’t let take over him — because it soon won’t matter if someone tries to flirt with you because they’ll know who you belong to. “now princess , let’s go to your favorite place.”

the mall; you loved the mall — so many stores and places, and people. no you couldn’t talk to them and jay did most of the shopping for you , but just being around it all made you happy. “you need some new jewelry , let’s go see if we can find something good.” he held your hand tightly as you walked around to the many luxury stores. “you need another j pendent don’t you , let’s get you a better one then the one you have now.”

“can we go into that store?” you pointed to a random store. “maybe another day , maybe your birthday.” he said , you frowned , he squeezed your hand , but it didn’t seem like a comforting one — but one silently telling you to fix your face and be good , which you did. “we can go there instead, you like that store don’t you?” no you didn’t but you didn’t say anything. “yes jongie , i do.”

after shopping for a while , he held all the bags in his hand as you made your way back to the car. “time to go home and get dressed for our valentines day dinner.” he said , you smiled nodding. “you like the sound of that princess?” he smiled, hand on your thigh protectively.

“how about you go take a shower alone today princess.” your eyes widened a bit; it had been a while since you were able to do that. “s-seriously?” you asked , thinking he was messing with you, that small voice inside you telling you that it was normal for an adult to bathe themself in this day in age , you were an adult. “yes princess , go ahead while i pick a pretty outfit for my doll to wear tonight.”

you spent a while in the shower; letting the water hit your body , it was silent which you liked , but it did feel weird, not having the man pressed up against you, feeling you up or anything. “baby speed this up , we have to be at the restaurant soon.” he opened the door calling inside. “okay.” you said turning the water off , stepping out of the shower. “i picked the prettiest dress for my princess.” he had everything laid out , down to the hair accessories. “come on let’s get you dressed.”

everything was perfect , you looked just how he imagined , but he knew it would work out because you were perfect and he knew what he was doing. “you look dazzling darling.” he came up from behind you , his cock still hard from the early morning. “so so pretty.” he slowly zipped the dress up. “can’t wait to have you on my cock later.” his hands falling to your waist , you whimpered. “ja-jay.” your body moved on its own , he growled in your ear. “stop moving.” you forced your body to stop. “good girl.” he said , lightly tapping your ass , bending down to slid your heels on the your feet. “perfect.” he said , eyeing the brand new gold j necklace hanging in between your breast. “Let’s go.”

the two of you make your way to the restaurant , his hands on your thigh as the driver pulled into the very expensive restaurant. “we’re here.” the driver said , jay reaching over to take your seat belt off , getting a whiff of the perfume he bought you earlier that day. “let’s go princess , we’re already a little late.” he said. “will they let us in?” you asked , he smirked. “well if they want to stay open of course they will.”

he guides you to the restaurant; holding the door open for you. “thank you.” hands resting on your lower back as you make your way to the hostess. “reservation for park.” he said. “of course this way.” she guided you through the restaurant to a private booth. “here’s your table , someone will be over to take your order , enjoy your meal.” she walked away. “this is beautiful.”

you sat across from each other. “this booth was the most expensive booth in the entire store.” he said. “you didn’t have to do that.” he scoffed. “of course i did , im a man baby and a man should be able to take care of what’s theirs.” he said , his voice deep , you could tell he was slowly losing himself. “and that’s what you are right princess , all mine?” his eyes burning into your skin waiting for your answer. “ye-yes.” he smiled , sitting up straight. “good.”

dinner went by pretty fast; jay spent half the time feeding you all the food they brought out. “i don’t think i can eat anymore.” you said , he put the fork down. “you have to save some room for dessert.” he said. “i called in to make sure they made your favorite.” that really put in perspective of how powerful he was , you knew for a fact this restaurant didn’t sell your favorite dessert , but he made one phone call and was able to get it done. “thank you jay.” he called over the waiter to him know he was ready for dessert. “you’re gonna love it.”

this was the time; it was finally happening right now — he was gonna ask you to marry him; to be his wife, he knew you’d never say no, you were his no doubt , but this ring solidified that for him; that you would never leave him. “here it is.”

the waiter sat the dessert in front of you. “thank you.” the waiter quickly walked away. “open it.” he said , the ring was stored in a velvety black box in his pocket. you took the top off the plate , your favorite dessert sitting on the plate, decorated nicely. “this looks perfect jongie.” he waited anxiously for you to notice the writing in the chocolate. “oh?”

this is , he watched you read the words on the plate. “you want me to marry you?” his eyes light up , but you , your mind was racing. you brain split in two; one telling you yes , the other telling you no , that you need to run for your fucking life. “will you? will you be mine forever.” you watched as he presented the beautifully customized ring , which cost thousands you were sure. “oh jongie.” you said looking down at the plate , then at the ring. “i don’t know what to say.” he smiled. “well you say yes of course.” you weren’t sure , but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was serious — you better say yes. “of course i’ll marry you.”

he stood up, making his way to your side of the table, bending down , holding your hand. “I knew you would.” he said , sliding the expensive ring on your finger. “my pretty princess come here.” he lifted you up , wrapping his arms around you. “i love you so much.” he said. “so so much.”

after finishing your desserts, and the complimentary bottle of champagne they gave you , it was time to go home. “you ready?” you nodded , he held your hand. “let’s go home so i can give you the last thing i prepared for you.” he whispered in your ear. “been waiting all day for you, i don’t plan going easy on you tonight.” he guided you out the restaurant where the driver was waiting. “good evening mrs. park.” he bowed , holding the door open for the both of you. “i don’t think im used to that.”

jay got in after you, shutting the door. “you will be.” he said , the driver getting in the car. “can you turn the music up.” jay said , closing the partition. “he’s gonna hear , but i could not give a fuck.” he said unbuckling his pants. “daddy has been so good to you today.” he said , pulling them down along with his pants. “it’s about time you pay him back isn’t it.” his tanned cock slapping against his stomach. “come on and put it in your mouth.”

you wrap your hand around his cock , stroking it. “fu-fuck.” he moaned out. “that ring looks perfect on your hand.” his hand coming up to your neck , to grab your hair. “come on suck it.” you brought your lips to his leaky tip , you slowly opened your mouth , he pushed your head down on him. “oh fuck!” he loudly groaned. “that’s it suck my dick princess , just like daddy taught you.” his arm spread out across the seat of the car , his other hand pushing down on your head. “such a good cock sucker.” he bucked up into your mouth , his cock brushing that back of your throat. “gag on it.” he held you down , the music definitely not drowning out the messy noises coming from your mouth. “ugh fuck , keep gagging on my dick.”

he couldn’t hold it anymore, he needed to breed you. “fuck hurry up and get home now.” he ushered the driver who heard everything , speeding up on the gas. “shit baby im gonna cum.” he groaned , cock twitching in your mouth. “want you to swallow all my fucking cum.” he ordered. “fuck , im gonna cum.” he bucked up into you. “fuck!” you felt his load shooting to the back of throat. “take it , take it all.”

he finished just in time , the driver pulled into your complex; jay pulled up his pants, your face was messy. “good girl.” he said , fixing the strap on your dress. “but we’re not done let’s go.” he didn’t even bother to say anything to the traumatized driver , basically dragging you back to your condo. “fuck the neighbors tonight.” he said. “tonight they’re gonna hear me breed your pussy.”

once you made it back to your apartment he was already gone , eyes dark and breathing heavily — this is the jay that scared you, the unpredictable jay. “jong-jongie maybe — is that my fucking name?” he said darkly. “you know my fucking name.” it was like he was finally showing his true self. “say my name.” he said. “say it now slut.” he cursed. “da-daddy.” his hand coming to your neck , squeezing. “good slut princess.” he said. “let’s go to the bedroom.”

once you made to your room , your dress already unzipped. “undress yourself.” you obeyed , letting the maroon dress fall to the floor. “come here.” he took the belt from his pants. “daddy loves you.” he said , grabbing your hands , pulling them to the front. “but he’s about to fuck you like he hates you.”

he undid your bra , letting your boobs bounce with freedom. “fuck you’re so fucking pretty.” he pushed you down on the bed. “open.” he slapped your thighs , forcing them open. “jongie , too rough.” he scoffed. “you can fucking take it.” he yanked your panties down your legs. “can’t you?” you nodded , he threw your panties across the room. “fuck look at how wet you are.” he cursed , your sopping wet cunt on display. “pretty pussy looking real breedable today.”

jay always wanted kids, to be a father; to have a family to take care of. nice place , hot fiancé and all the money he could spend , and all he needed to complete his perfect life , is children to pass down his legacy to — and you were gonna be the one to give it to him. “fuck.” he said , grabbing your bond wrist , sliding his thick length into your warm cunt. “daddy.” you moaned out. “god i fucking love you.” he pulled out , slamming himself back inside you; bottoming out immediately. “perfect pussy.”

he began to move his hips with an inhumane speed. normally he was as soft as he could be, unless he was punishing you for acting up — but here, on his favorite day, valentines day; he had one last goal in mind… breeding his new wife. “gonna fuck you so full -shit- so full of my cum.” your eyes were rolled to the back of your head. “go-gonna give me a couple of cute babies.” he grunted. “keep you pregnant so you can’t leave me.” your boobs bouncing harshly. “can’t wait to see those filled with milk and all swollen.” he grabbed the headboard as he fucked into you. “tell how good you feel.”

“so-so good.” you loudly moaned, you were 100% sure the neighbors were gonna complain , but jay didn’t care , he knew with the new baby he was soon gonna move you out of the apartment and put you up in a nice house , that you can make into a home. he trained you to be his perfect doll , now he’ll train you to be a perfect wife and mother — to serve him and obey him and take care of his children. “fuck princess gonna cum.”

hearing everything he said; you should’ve made him stop, to pull out; to listen to that goddamn voice inside your head telling you he was dangerous to run— but you didn’t , you didn’t tell him you didn’t want kids right now, you could no longer even hear the reasonable voice anymore, you were in love with jay; as sick as it was , you loved him and you wanted to be with him. “me too , please can i cum.”

“cum , cum for daddy.” he plowed into you. “fucking cum.” his hand wrapped around your neck. “im cumming!” you screamed out , legs shaking as he continued to fuck into you. “fucking shit.” he cursed , your cunt clenching around him. “go-gonna fucking cum.” he pressed himself closed to you , burying himself deep inside you. “fuck.” he held his head inside the crevice of your neck , biting down on his. “da-daddy.” you were shaking in his hold as he filled you to the point he was leaking out of you. “fu-fuck princess.” he sighed. “mine , all fucking mines.”

he didn’t bother pulling out because he wasn’t done with you. “you’ll look so good pregnant and in your wedding gown.” he said breathlessly , undoing the belt. “gonna make sure it takes tonight.” he whispered in your ear. “you’ll never be able to leave me.” he said. “my perfect doll , turned to my perfect wife.” his words sending shivers down your spine as he gave you one sharp thrust. “daddy.” you were too far gone.

“mine forever.”

©️LUVYENI

[ghostlyferrettarot]

💕Pick a Picture: ༘⋆♡⸝⸝💌⊹。°˖➴Channeled letter from your Soulmate ༘⋆♡⸝⸝💌⊹。°˖➴

₊˚ʚ ₊💌˚✧ ﾟ🤍 𝓗𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓓𝓪𝔂₊˚ʚ ₊💌˚✧ ﾟ🤍

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

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🛸Masterlist🛸

ʚ🩷ɞ Pile 1:

"Hello, my love:

We haven't met yet in the time we know, but I feel your energy close by. Sometimes, in the quietest moments, I close my eyes and I can imagine what it will be like the first moment I see you, how everything will seem to align, as if everything has led to this very moment.

I want you to know something: I am already here, thinking of you, even though I can't show you yet. You may not see it, but I feel a little closer every day. And in this space, I want you to trust that everything you have lived, everything you have experienced, is leading me right to you. Your strength, your vulnerability, your moments of light and shadow... are building me a clear image of how wonderful you are.

So don't worry about when or how, because love comes when it has to. I promise it won't be rushed, or forced. You don't need to be perfect for me; none of that really matters. All I want is for you to be yourself, as authentic as you are, because that's the person I want to share my life with.

With all my love that I haven't given you yet ;),

Your future lover"

💘 Channeled song from your person:

ʚ🩷ɞ Pile 2:

"Hello, my love:

Maybe this message comes at a time when you feel like everything is on pause, or that things are not going their course. And I want to tell you, from the bottom of my heart, that everything is happening exactly as it has to be. There is nothing that is out of place. We are at different points, but somewhere in this space that we share, we are already connected.

I want you to know that I am waiting for you, although not in the sense of waiting as something passive. No. I am waiting for you with everything that I am, with everything that I am learning, with everything that I already am and everything that I continue to discover. Because I need you just as you are, not for what you can do, or for what you can "give" me, but for what we are together when we meet.

Although sometimes you may feel alone or lost, you are preparing yourself for what is to come. Don't doubt yourself or what the future holds, I want you to trust that this whole path has been a part of my journey to you. You dont need to worry about what's still unclear. I promise that when the time comes, it will all make sense, believe me.

I send you all my love,

Your love"

💘 Channeled song from your person:

ʚ🩷ɞ Pile 3:

"Hello, my dear,

Today I woke up feeling so warm and close to you, like we already knew each other, like our souls already recognized each other, even though we haven't physically crossed paths yet. I'm here, even though you can't see me, and I'm sending you all my love and thoughts.

I want you to know that, even though this journey towards you is taking longer than you imagine, every day that passes brings me closer to you. You don't have to do anything else, just be you, and that's what attracts me the most. I promise you that everything is happening in its perfect time. When we get to meet, everything will make sense, and everything you've lived so far will be the solid foundation for what we're going to build together.

Don't feel pressured, Don't worry if it seems like things aren't going as fast as you'd like. I'm going through my own process too, and on this journey, we're learning to be better versions of ourselves so we can give each other the most genuine love.

I want you to always remember that you are enough just the way you are. You dont need to change who you are, how you think, what you like; the ones that get it, are the ones that matter, and in the end, you have me ;). Please keep moving and keep being you, you deserve the world and your ideas need to be heard. Your voice MATTER! so keep going my love.

With all my love,

Your partner in a crime"

💘 Channeled song from your person:

🩷⋆˚✿˖°ᡣ𐭩🩷Thanks for reading, tell me if it resonated and Happy Valentines day🩷⋆˚✿˖°ᡣ𐭩🩷

[astarless-fights]

This has NOT passed the house (as of 2/14/25) but with the energy behind it, it definitely can. Voting is still on the line. Call your reps. Email them. Send them physical mail. Show up physically- basically do everything in your power to make them annoyed and aggravated as all hell. And share this with your neighbors, your family, and your friends; regardless of beliefs. I guarantee news outlets are not and will not be discussing this bill.

And heads up: when applying for a passport, it is completely normal for your citizenship documentation to be taken away while they review your passport application. This can take sometimes 2-3 months to get back, even if the estimate is 1 month. If you are fixing a detail like a changed name, birth date error, etc., your current passport is submitted with your documentation. Again, this is normal. What’s also normal is them warning you that should your documentation be lost, it will not be automatically replaced. THE MAJORITY OF THE TIME everything is sent back. Leaving your original copies of important documentation in the hands of teams of people you have never met before for weeks is nail bitingly stressful. My nails were in rough shape when my SS# and birth certificate were finally sent back to me. Oh also? You’d think they would give you tracking labels on these but they don’t! They don’t even tell you if your documents have shipped yet!

KEEP IN MIND we are in a very chaotic and challenging time for our government services. The chances of your documentation being lost is probably much higher than it was last year. If you do not receive it back, you will need to go through the awful process of getting them replaced. Your rights and abilities to have these documents replaced have not been revoked.

Here’s real time tracking on this bill:

Took this from Instagram because this is urgent US folks.

You need to call and email your reps no matter if you live in a red or blue state. This cannot be allowed to pass.

It will prevent anyone who has ever changed their name from voting (including their last name)

[pixiefelixie]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ MY VALENTINE KIM SEUNGMIN

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ synopsis your 17-year-old dog, who had survived chocolate poisoning, a bicycle accident, and a raccoon fight, finally passed away peacefully—proving that even the most legendary warriors must one day retire. in your grief, you completely fell apart, only to realize your usually sarcastic boyfriend might actually be capable of being soft and supportive—something even more shocking than your dog’s immortality finally running out.

pairings: menace!seungmin x menace!reader warnings: death of a pet, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, seungmin is a sweetheart i need a seungmin for valentines day thank you very much, they're in love your honour

before seungmin was your boyfriend, he was your best friend. there was no messy talking stage, no drawn-out situationship—just years of friendship that seamlessly shifted into something more. it happened on prom night, after one unexpectedly deep conversation that peeled back layers neither of you had ever touched before. from that moment on, everything changed.

your friends had seen it coming long before you did. they used to roll their eyes and exchange knowing glances whenever you and seungmin bickered, convinced that it was only a matter of time before one of you caved. it wasn’t hard to see why. your friendship with seungmin was filled with smacking, bullying, and calling each other mean names. naturally, that dynamic carried over into your relationship as well. 

but sometimes, you wondered if seungmin ever really took you seriously. saying serious things—things that mattered—never came easy for either of you. the words always got tangled in sarcasm, deflected by jokes. even kissing was often a game, a teasing challenge where he’d lean in just to pull away at the last second, smirking as you huffed in frustration. it wasn’t that he didn’t care. it wasn’t that you didn’t care. it was just easier to dance around the depth of your feelings than to dive straight in.

one evening, after seungmin had spent nearly an hour tormenting you with relentless tickles, leaving you breathless from laughter and weak from squirming, you huffed in exasperation.

“why do you always have to be such a menace?” you asked, still catching your breath.

he grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned back. “because i only act like this with you.” his voice was quieter now, softer, like a secret he was finally ready to share. “you’re special to me.”

for once, you didn’t have a comeback.

the city lights blurred outside the bus window, distorted by the tears welling in your eyes. you blinked rapidly, willing them away, but the tightness in your throat only grew stronger. with every stop, every jerk of the bus, your composure cracked a little more. you clenched your jaw, staring hard at your reflection in the dark glass. just a little longer. just until you got home.

finally, your stop came. you shuffled off the bus, stepping into the cool night air. the walk to your apartment felt longer than usual, each step heavier than the last. your breaths were shallow, uneven, as you swallowed back the lump in your throat. the world around you moved as if nothing had changed—cars rushing by, a couple laughing in the distance, a stray cat darting across the sidewalk—but inside, you were unraveling.

by the time you reached your door, your hands were trembling. you fumbled with the keys, cursing under your breath when they slipped from your fingers. picking them up, you took a shaky inhale and forced yourself to steady your grip. just get inside.

the lock clicked. the door swung open. and the moment it shut behind you, the weight of it all crashed down.

a broken sob slipped from your lips before you could stop it. your legs gave out, and you sank to the floor, pressing your back against the door. tears spilled over, hot and relentless, as you buried your face in your knees. your shoulders shook with every quiet sob, the sound muffled in the empty apartment.

you had held it together for so long. but now, there was no one to see. no one to hear.

you had known this day would come. you had prepared yourself for it—at least, you thought you had. but no amount of knowing could have made it hurt any less.

seventeen years. that was how long he had been by your side. longer than some of your friendships, longer than any relationship you'd ever had. he had been there for every scraped knee, every heartbreak, every lonely night you spent crying into his fur. you had practically grown up with him—your childhood, your teenage years.

he was ancient. seventeen, as a reminder. practically immortal by dog standards. he had outlived all expectations, defied every vet’s cautious prognosis. he was ancient, crusty, and had the worst breath imaginable—like a mix of old socks and something you didn’t even want to identify. his teeth were a disaster, barely hanging on in his later years, and he had been blind in one eye for the past three birthdays. and yet, somehow, he had powered through everything.

there had been that one time he ate an entire bag of chocolate chips when he was seven and walked it off like it was nothing. then, at twelve, he somehow got hit by a bicycle and bounced back as if he had merely tripped. at fourteen, he got into a fight with a raccoon over a slice of pizza (and won). he had survived stomach bugs, a tumble down the stairs, and countless other incidents that should have been his undoing. but no—he had refused to go out in some dramatic, action-packed way. 

instead, he had peacefully fallen asleep like the stubborn little shit he was.

he was gone.

you let out a shaky breath, a tear-streaked chuckle slipping past your lips. of course, that’s how he would go. no theatrics, no grand exit. just quietly, in his sleep.

it wasn’t fair, though. he had survived so much—how was he not invincible?

you wiped at your face, but the tears kept coming. you had always known this day would come, but losing him felt like losing a piece of your childhood. 

you hadn’t been there for his last moments. that was what made it worse.

moving out for university had meant leaving him behind, but at the time, it hadn’t felt like a real goodbye. it never even crossed your mind that one day, you’d walk out that door and never see him again. it was impossible to imagine a world where he wasn’t waiting by the door when you came home, tail thumping lazily against the floor, his cloudy old-man eyes lighting up at the sound of your voice.

but time had finally caught up with him, and instead of being there to hold him one last time, instead of pressing your forehead to his like you always did, whispering, you stink, you had gotten the news over the phone.

you hadn’t heard the footsteps. hadn’t noticed the faint creak of the floorboards or the quiet rustle of movement in the room. you had been too lost in your own wreckage, sobs wracking your body as you sat crumpled against the door, drowning in the weight of it all.

but then—something made you look up.

seungmin was standing there, just a few feet away. his eyes were wide, his expression frozen somewhere between confusion and alarm. his lips were parted slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out where to start.

you hadn’t expected him to be here. but of course, he had a spare key. and from the way he was standing there, it was obvious—he had been in the apartment the whole time, long before you walked through the door and completely fell apart.

the realization sent a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over you. you weren’t sure how much he had seen, but judging by the way he was looking at you—like he was seeing you for the first time—you knew it was enough.

seungmin had never seen you like this before.

he had seen you annoyed, frustrated, even stressed to the point of snapping. but never this. never crumpled and shaking on the floor, barely able to catch your breath between sobs. never so completely wrecked that you couldn’t even find it in yourself to throw out a sarcastic remark or tell him to get lost.

and you knew what was about to come.

like the absolute asshole he was, he was going to crack a joke. probably something about how ugly you looked when you cried, or how your face was so red it could stop traffic. any second now, he was going to open his mouth and say the exact wrong thing, because that was just who he was. that was how he dealt with anything remotely emotional—sarcasm first, actual feelings second.

you almost wished he wasn’t there. right now, you had nothing in you to deal with a seungmin-style remark. not today. not when everything already felt like too much.

you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself, but nothing came.

no snarky comment. no teasing jab.

but instead, seungmin walked over to you and he sank to the floor.

he didn’t fidget, didn’t sigh like he was uncomfortable. he just sat there, his body close but not overwhelming, his presence solid and steady. his eyes never left you, his usual sharp, mischievous gaze replaced with something softer, something that made your throat tighten even more.

another sob tore through you, and you curled in on yourself, burying your face in your knees. you felt exposed, raw in a way you had never been before. you weren’t used to this—falling apart in front of someone, letting yourself be seen like this. and seungmin… he wasn’t used to it either.

to him, you were always either a ray of sunshine or a little menace who pinched his cheeks just to annoy him. you were the one who smacked his arm when he teased you, who gave as good as you got. but now? now you were shaking, struggling to catch your breath between broken sobs, completely undone in a way he had never witnessed before.

seungmin hesitated for only a second before reaching out, his hand barely brushing against your back at first—like he was testing the waters, making sure you wouldn’t flinch away. when you didn’t, his touch grew firmer, his palm pressing against the fabric of your shirt as he slowly rubbed circles between your shoulder blades.

your sobs didn’t stop right away. they came in waves—some stronger, some weaker, but always there, shaking through you, making it impossible to catch a steady breath. you tried to quiet them, tried to swallow them down, but your body refused to cooperate.

at some point, you lifted your head, your cheeks damp, your lashes clumped together from tears. seungmin’s hand stilled, but he didn’t pull away.

and then—his eyes met yours.

there was no teasing glint, no smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. just seungmin, staring at you like he was seeing every crack, every broken piece, and accepting them without hesitation.

he didn’t say anything. he didn’t need to.

instead, he gave you the smallest smile—soft, quiet, a silent i’m here.

seungmin let out a slow breath, his fingers pressing just a little firmer against your back, grounding you. his other hand hovered for a second before he reached up, brushing his knuckles gently against your cheek. his touch was warm, deliberate—like he was trying to memorize the shape of you, trying to let you know in the only way he could that you weren’t alone in this.

“you know,” he murmured, his voice quiet but steady, “boyfriends are supposed to help with things like this.”

you blinked at him, your chest still rising and falling unevenly, your throat tight.

“this whole… carrying everything by yourself thing?” he shook his head slightly, his thumb smoothing over your cheekbone. “yeah, i’m not letting you do that.”

your lip trembled.

as if reading your mind, seungmin exhaled, his thumb brushing against your cheek again, slower this time. “you’re allowed to let me be here for you. you know that, right?”

something in you cracked at that.

a fresh wave of tears welled up, and seungmin didn’t even flinch. he just shifted closer, his hand finding yours, threading his fingers through yours, squeezing lightly.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “so cry, tell me to shut up—whatever you need. but don’t shut me out.”

seungmin’s fingers tightened around yours, firm but careful, like he was anchoring you to him without holding on too tight. his eyes never left your face, searching, waiting—until finally, he spoke again.

“come here?”

it wasn’t a command. it wasn’t even a suggestion. just a question, soft and open, giving you the choice.

your breath hitched.

you weren’t used to this. him, like this. and maybe that was what made your throat tighten even more.

you nodded, barely a movement, barely a breath. but it was all he needed.

seungmin let go of your hand only to wrap his arms around you, pulling you in like it was second nature. you barely had time to react before your face was pressed against his shoulder, the warmth of his hoodie soft against your cheek. his arms settled around your back, firm and unyielding, his fingers curling against the fabric of your shirt.

your hands hovered for a second before you clutched at the fabric of his hoodie, gripping tightly, your body still shaking with uneven breaths. seungmin only held you closer, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head.

seungmin didn’t say anything for a long time. he just held you, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your back, like he was letting you take your time, like he wasn’t in any rush to hear whatever was weighing you down.

but eventually, he shifted slightly, just enough to glance down at you. his voice was quieter now, softer, like he was trying not to break whatever fragile thread was holding you together.

“do you… wanna tell me what happened?”

your throat was tight with the weight of it, and when you swallowed, it felt like trying to force down something solid. you wanted to tell him. you had to tell him. but how were you supposed to say it? how were you supposed to explain why you had completely fallen apart, why your entire body had given out the second you walked through that door?

your heart pounded, your throat burned, and for a moment, you considered lying. saying it was stress, a fight with a friend, anything that made more sense than the truth. you were afraid that he would find it stupid that you were sobbing over your dog who was always on the brink of death.

but you couldn’t keep it in.

your vision blurred again, fresh tears rising as you forced yourself to swallow the lump in your throat.

“my mom called,” you said, barely above a whisper. “after my lecture.”

seungmin said nothing, but you could feel the way his grip on you tightened ever so slightly. he was listening. he was bracing. his jaw tensed. you could see it, the quiet dread settling behind his eyes.

and then, with everything in you screaming to keep it in, you let it out.

“my dog.”

two words. that was all you could get out.

but seungmin understood right away.

his breath hitched—so slight, so subtle, but you caught it. his fingers stopped moving against your back, and when he blinked, it was slow, like the weight of what you had just said was pressing into him, too.

“oh.” his voice was quieter now. 

you knew what he was thinking.

this was stupid. it was just a dog. people lost pets all the time. you weren’t supposed to cry like this, to feel like something inside you had been ripped away.

frustration bubbled up through the grief, your throat tightening even more. you pulled back slightly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve as you forced out, “i know it’s dumb.” your voice was thick, shaking. “but i grew up with him, seungmin. what am i supposed to do—just smile and move on?”

his brows furrowed instantly. “no—”

“i mean, it’s just a dog, right?” you let out a bitter, shaky laugh, but it barely even sounded like you. “that’s what you think. that i’m being dramatic, that it shouldn’t hurt this bad—”

“no, no, no—what?” his hands tightened around yours, his voice firm now, almost urgent. “y/n, don’t even—”

you froze.

his expression had shifted completely—no teasing, no softness diluted by hesitation. just pure, unwavering certainty.

“you have every right to feel like this,” he said, his voice steady, his grip grounding. “this isn’t stupid. you aren’t stupid.” his brows pulled together slightly, and for a second, he looked almost upset—not at you, but for you. “you loved him. of course it hurts.”

your breath hitched.

seungmin was looking at you like your grief mattered, like it was valid.

you didn’t know what to do with that.

a fresh wave of emotion crashed over you, tangled and overwhelming, pressing into your ribs until you could barely breathe. your fingers curled against his wrist, gripping onto him like he was the only thing keeping you from unraveling completely.

“i don’t know, seungmin,” you whispered, your voice barely holding together. “i just—” your throat tightened. “i don’t know.”

his face softened, but he didn’t rush to fill the silence. he just waited, his presence steady, unwavering.

your chest ached. everything ached.

your next breath came out shakier than the last. “i’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “i—”

“hey.” his hands shifted, firm but gentle, like he could hold you together if he just held on tight enough. “none of that.”

you swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat refused to go away.

“don’t be sorry,” he said, quieter this time.

you sniffled, shaking your head as you wiped at your face with the sleeve of his hoodie. “i don’t even know why i’m crying so much,” you mumbled, voice thick and uneven. “it’s just—he was so old, you know? like, ancient. i should’ve been ready for this.”

seungmin didn’t say anything right away. he just watched you, his expression unreadable but steady.

“i mean, seventeen years? that’s… that’s insane for a dog,” you continued, half-laughing through your tears. “he was supposed to go out dramatically—choking on something stupid or picking a fight with another raccoon, not just…” your breath hitched. “not just fall asleep and never wake up.”

“i used to joke about this all the time.” you sniffled, rubbing at your nose. “like, literally all the time. i’d always say ‘on my dog’s life’ like it wasn’t a big deal, and now—” your voice wavered, and you took a shaky breath. “now i can’t say that anymore.”

seungmin exhaled sharply and nodded. “yeah. you did say that a lot.”

you groaned, leaning back against the door and covering your face with your hands. “god, that’s so messed up.” you exhaled sharply, rubbing your temples. “i don’t know, seungmin. i don’t even know why i’m crying this much. i really really knew this was coming.”

seungmin tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read between the lines. “so what?”

you blinked at him. “what?”

“so what if you knew it was coming?” he shrugged, shifting so that he was leaning a little closer. “that doesn’t mean it’s supposed to hurt any less.”

you let out another wobbly breath, staring down at your hands. your fingers still trembled slightly, the weight of everything pressing down on your chest.

seungmin sighed and reached out, hesitating for just a second before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “you don’t have to justify why you’re sad,” he said quietly. “you loved him. of course this sucks.”

you swallowed, your throat tight again. “yeah, but it’s not like he was—” you paused, exhaling. “it’s not like he was a person.”

seungmin’s lips pressed together, and for a second, he just looked at you. then, shaking his head slightly, he said, “so what?”

you huffed. “you keep saying that.”

“because you keep acting like you need a reason to be upset.” he gave you a pointed look. “you don’t. he was family. that’s all the reason you need.”

your breath caught.

family.

you hadn’t said it yourself, but hearing seungmin say it so plainly—like it wasn’t even up for debate—made your chest ache even more.

you bit your lip, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, but it was useless. your vision blurred again, and before you could stop yourself, you were crying all over again.

“gosh, i hate this,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. “i hate crying this much.”

seungmin exhaled through his nose, then—before you could react—he reached out and flicked your forehead.

you yelped, your hands flying up to rub the spot where he’d hit you. “ow! what the hell, seungmin?”

he just raised an eyebrow at you. “you hate crying, but you’re crying anyway. so what’s the point of hating it?”

you glared at him through your tears. “what kind of messed-up logic is that?”

“the kind that makes you stop talking nonsense.” he leaned back against the wall, stretching his arms behind his head. “look, if you’re gonna cry, then cry. don’t fight it.”

you sniffled, pouting. “easy for you to say. you don’t cry.”

seungmin scoffed. “that’s not true. you think just ‘cause i’m a boy, i don’t cry?” he shot you a fake offended look, crossing his arms. “that’s kinda sexist, don’t you think?”

you rolled your eyes, sniffling. “no, that’s not i meant. you’re just… seungmin. that’s why”

seungmin tilted his head, lips pressing together. for a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. “well, i’ll tell you right now… looking at you like this is making me kinda—”

but he stopped.

your breath hitched. “what?”

“nothing.”

“seungmin.”

“drop it.” he huffed, looking away so fast it was almost comical.

and that’s when you saw it—the telltale redness creeping up his ears, the way his eyes looked just a little too glossy, like he was barely holding it together.

your mouth parted slightly. “wait, seriously?”

seungmin exhaled sharply through his nose. “don’t push it.”

but you weren’t even teasing anymore. you just stared at him, chest tightening, because somehow, knowing that he was feeling this with you—that this was hurting him, too—made the grief just a little more bearable.

you exhaled softly, the last of your resistance slipping away as you leaned against him, your head resting against his shoulder. seungmin didn’t move at first, but then—slowly, almost hesitantly—he turned back to look at you.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. you just sat there, breathing, the weight of everything settling between you. then, without a word, he shifted slightly and rested his head against yours, his warmth pressing into you in a way that made your throat tighten all over again.

you felt him move, just barely, and when you glanced up, you caught the way he wiped at his eye with the sleeve of his hoodie—like he was trying to be discreet about it. like he wasn’t supposed to be feeling this much either.

the realization hit you all at once: you and seungmin, two of the world’s most unserious people, were sitting here—silent, exhausted, crying into each other.

and somehow… it didn’t feel sad. at least, not just sad.

it felt real.

it felt like something deeper than grief, something bigger than just missing your dog.

it felt like you weren’t alone.

"please never leave me," you whispered, your voice barely a thread, fragile, like you're afraid if you speak too loudly it might shatter something between you two.

he tilted his head, his expression gentle, but there’s an edge of confusion in his eyes. “why would you ever think i’d leave you?” he asked, his voice calm and steady.

but you couldn’t stop the words that rush out next. they spilled from you in a torrent, raw and vulnerable, as if you were confessing something you’ve been holding inside for too long. "it’s only a matter of time before you die too. everyone is going to leave. i don’t want—” your voice cracked. “i don’t want anyone to leave.”

seungmin didn’t say anything. his silence wasn’t empty—it was heavy, filled with something unspoken, something that lingered between you like the last notes of a song fading into quiet.

“can i just… go first? like—die.”

seungmin stilled beside you. his head turned, his gaze sharp, his expression unreadable. for a second, he didn’t say anything—just studied you, like he was trying to figure out if you were joking.

then, he scoffed. “no.”

you blinked, startled by how immediate and certain he sounded. “what do you mean, ‘no’?”

“i mean no. that’s dumb. don’t say stuff like that.”

your chest tightened, and your fingers curled harder into the fabric of your sleeves. “but i wouldn’t be able to handle it if i didn’t,” you murmured. “if i had to be the one left behind. i just—” you took a shaky breath. “i don’t want to be the one who has to keep going without everyone else.”

seungmin’s jaw tensed, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. he just sat there, letting your words settle in the quiet between you.

then, with a sigh, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “do you think i would?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

you hesitated. “…what?”

he turned his head slightly, glancing at you. “do you think i’d be fine if you went first?”

the question caught you off guard. you stared at him, struggling to process the idea, the weight of it pressing against your ribs.

seungmin let out a soft, humorless laugh. “you’re not special, you know.” his voice wasn’t harsh, but there was something sharp underneath it. “you think you’re the only one who’d be wrecked? you think i’d just—what, move on?”

your breath caught.

“don’t be stupid,” he muttered, shaking his head. “i’d be pissed. and sad. and probably really, really pissed at everyone around me.” he huffed. “so no, you can’t go first. because i don’t want to deal with that.”

you stared at him, your throat tight. “seungmin—”

“too bad,” he interrupted, like that was the end of the discussion. then, softer, “you’re not leaving me either.”

you let out a small, breathy laugh against his hoodie. “god,” you mumbled, voice still thick with the remnants of your crying. “how are you so bad at comforting, ” you sniffled, shifting slightly against him. “but… somehow, i feel better anyway.”

there was a beat of silence before you felt his chest rise with a quiet sigh. “sounds like a you problem.”

your lips parted in disbelief. “are you serious right now?”

he hummed, completely unfazed. “you’ve just got bad taste in comfort.”

you pulled back slightly, just enough to glare up at him. “that’s not a thing, you ass.”

he raised an eyebrow. “then explain why you’re still clinging to me.”

your face heated, but you refused to let him win. “because i need it. and you just—” you swallowed, your fingers tightening slightly around the fabric of his hoodie. “happen to be here.”

you exhaled softly and, without thinking, slumped forward, resting your head against seungmin’s chest. his hoodie was warm, the fabric slightly worn, and beneath it, you could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in. his chin rested lightly on top of your head, and his hand found the small of your back.

seungmin blinked at you, then—without warning—let out a quiet laugh. it wasn’t mocking, not really, just a small, breathy chuckle. “why are we like this?” he asked, shaking his head slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes.

you frowned. “like what?”

“like…” he gestured vaguely between the two of you. “this. one second, we’re crying, and the next, you’re calling me an ass. it’s weird.”

you huffed. “it’s not weird.”

seungmin gave you a pointed look.

“…okay, maybe a little,” you admitted, sniffling. “but i don’t know. it just works.” you hesitated for a moment, your fingers still curled into the fabric of his hoodie. then, softer this time, you murmured, “and i don’t want that to change.”

seungmin stilled slightly, his head tilting just enough for him to look down at you. his expression wasn’t teasing anymore—just calm, steady. “it won’t.” then, without any hesitation, seungmin added, “as long as you know i love you.”

your breath caught, warmth spreading through your chest. you looked up at him, surprised but not really, because of course he’d say it like that—so casual, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

and maybe it was.

you exhaled softly smiling slightly, then leaned up just enough to bump your forehead lightly against his. “i love you too.”

then, before you could process it, he leaned in and kissed you.

it wasn’t rushed or urgent—just slow, steady, like he had all the time in the world. like this was something he’d thought about before but never quite let himself do until now. his hand found your cheek, fingers warm against your skin, tilting your face just enough to deepen the kiss.

you melted into him without thinking, your hands gripping the front of his hoodie to keep yourself grounded. the warmth of him, the quiet steadiness of the moment—it made your chest ache.

when he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, you let out a soft, shaky breath.

“i’m glad you found me like this,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

seungmin didn’t hesitate. “i’ll always find you.”

your chest tightened, something deep and aching curling in your ribs. you opened your eyes to meet his, and for once, there was no teasing, no playful sarcasm—just him, just seungmin, looking at you like you were something worth holding onto.

“i mean it,” he continued, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “no matter what. no matter where. i’ll always be with you.”

you let out a quiet breath before he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. then, he pulled you in again, arms wrapping around you like he could shield you from the world, like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

and for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

epilogue.

the scent of vanilla lingered in seungmin’s room at the dorm, mingling with the faint chill of february air slipping in through the window. the soft glow of fairy lights bathed everything in a golden hue, casting flickering shadows against the walls. it should’ve felt like any other night. but it didn’t.

because you were here with him.

seungmin turned the baseball cap over in his hands, his fingers tracing the stitching of a little heart next to his name. it was his present for valentine’s day, simple and classic—just his style. you’d been nervous about whether he’d actually like it, but judging by the way he kept admiring it, you had nothing to worry about.

“this is so nice,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. his thumb brushed over the small embroidered heart hidden on the inside, and a slow, satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “really nice.”

your stomach did an embarrassing little flip. “you like it?”

seungmin scoffed, glancing up at you with a look that made your breath catch. “obviously.”

and then, with that effortless ease of his, he slipped it onto his head—backwards, of course. like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. like he knew that the casual way he ran a hand through his dark hair, adjusting the fit, was going to make your heart trip over itself.

you swallowed. hard.

“that’s not how you’re supposed to wear it,” you muttered, if only to distract yourself.

seungmin let out a soft laugh, adjusting the cap one more time before pushing off his desk.

you barely had time to process the way he closed the space between you before he was kissing you—soft, sure, like it was second nature. his hands found your waist, tugging you just a little closer, and you barely managed to catch your breath before melting into him.

when he pulled back, his lips still ghosting over yours, he murmured, “thank you, y/n.”

your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice. you met his gaze, your hands still gripping the fabric of his sweater. “of course,” you whispered.

his lips curled into a smile. “you ready for yours?” seungmin took a step back, tilting his head toward the door. “come on,” he said, nodding for you to follow.

you frowned. “where are we going?”

he didn’t answer, just grabbed your wrist gently and tugged you along. his grip was warm, steady, and despite your confusion, you let him lead you out of your room and into the dimly lit hallway.

before you could ask again, from felix’s room, you heard a hushed, “shh.”

you blinked, confused, and turned to seungmin. without a word, he nudged the door open, and the sight inside made your breath catch. felix was crouched on the floor, his hands cradling the tiniest, cutest puppy you had ever seen. 

a soft golden ball of fur with round eyes blinked up at felix, its tiny nose twitching as it snuggled closer into him. the moment it spotted movement, its little tail wagged.

your heart squeezed, and you gasped, stepping forward on instinct. “oh my goodness.”

felix grinned while walking over to you, then carefully—almost reverently—placed the tiny puppy in your arms. you barely processed the movement, too busy marveling at the warmth and softness of the small body now curled against your chest.

“oh my goodness,” you whispered again, cradling the little thing like it was made of glass. the puppy let out a tiny sigh, its nose nudging your sweater, already settling into you like it belonged there. you tore your gaze away just long enough to look up at him. “he’s perfect. he looks just like—”

felix nodded. “seungmin made sure of that.” he glanced over at seungmin, who was standing beside you with his hands in his pockets, watching your reaction with a satisfied smirk. “i don’t think you realize how picky he was about this whole thing.”

you blinked, looking at seungmin in surprise. “really?”

felix scoffed. “oh, absolutely. he made me visit like five different places with him just to find one that looked exactly like your old dog.”

your heart squeezed. you looked back down at the puppy, feeling an overwhelming rush of emotion. you turned to him, eyes soft. “you did that?”

seungmin rolled his eyes, like he was trying to play it off, but his ears were tinged pink. “well, yeah. i wasn’t gonna get you just any dog.”

you let out a soft laugh, still in awe. “i can’t believe you.”

felix then chimed in. “he’s got a ton of energy, you’re gonna have your hands full.”

you glanced down at the puppy, who was now settled in your arms, and smiled. “i don’t mind.”

felix grinned. “didn’t think you would.” he patted seungmin on the shoulder before stepping toward the door. “alright, i’ll leave you to it.”

you looked up. “felix, seriously. thank you.”

felix waved a hand. “yeah, yeah, just make sure seungmin doesn’t pretend he did all the work.” he shot seungmin a pointed look before slipping out of the room, leaving you alone with him—and your new puppy.

overwhelmed, you looked up at seungmin, your heart racing. he was watching you with that familiar, amused expression, lips twitching before he rolled his eyes.

“happy valentine’s day, you freak.”

you made a sound that wasn’t quite human, still in shock. “thank you, thank you, thank you! i love him!”

seungmin barely had time to react before you surged forward, wrapping your arm around him—careful not to squish the tiny dog between you. you pressed a quick, eager kiss to his lips, catching him slightly off guard, but he recovered fast, letting out a small laugh against your mouth.

“you’re so welcome,” he murmured, his hands finding your waist.

still buzzing with excitement, you pulled back just enough to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. he smelled warm and familiar—like fresh laundry and something unmistakably him.

“i can’t believe you did this,” you whispered against his skin, voice thick with emotion. “you’re actually the best.”

seungmin scoffed, though his grip on you tightened. “obviously.”

“i don’t know how to thank you,” you murmured.

he shrugged, his fingers slipping under the hem of your sweater, just barely grazing your skin. “just don’t forget who your favorite is.”

you blinked, then smirked. “between you and the dog?” seungmin gave you a warning look, but you only hummed playfully, tapping your chin like you were seriously debating it. “i mean… he’s really cute, seungmin.”

seungmin narrowed his eyes, pulling back slightly. “alright, that’s it. i’m returning him.”

your jaw dropped. “what? no!” you clutched the tiny puppy closer to your chest protectively, like seungmin was actually about to pry him from your arms.

“take it back,” he demanded, arms crossing over his chest.

you blinked at him, tilting your head slightly, all wide eyes and innocence. “take what back?”

seungmin inhaled sharply, as if willing himself to be patient. “don’t play with me, y/n.”

you barely held back a grin, feigning confusion. “i’m sorry minnie, i really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were doing this. “last chance,” he muttered, stepping closer.

you bit your lip, letting the anticipation build. then, just to push your luck a little further, you whispered, “never.” you giggled, reaching out to poke his cheek.

seungmin swatted your hand away. “i surprised you with the cutest valentine’s day gift ever, and you’re over here debating whether the dog is better than me.”

still cradling the sleepy puppy, you tilted your head, grinning. “you’re really worked up over this, huh?”

“i am not—” seungmin cut himself off, exhaling sharply before dragging a hand down his face. then, quieter, he muttered, “i just want to hear you say it.”

your heart clenched at how utterly serious he sounded, despite the dramatic display.

softening, you reached out, wrapping your free arm around his beck and pulling him close. “you are, you idiot,” you murmured against his chest.

seungmin stilled against you for a moment before pulling back just enough to look at you, his expression unreadable. “i’m what?”

you blinked up at him, already biting back a smile. “my favorite.”

his eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to decide whether you were messing with him again. “say it again.”

you rolled your eyes but indulged him anyway, pressing a hand against his chest. “you’re my favorite, seungmin.”

a slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips. “damn right, i am.”

you huffed, laughing softly. “god, you’re so annoying.”

seungmin rolled his eyes like you were being slow on purpose. “i love you too, idiot.”

you opened your mouth to argue—just out of sheer principle—but he kissed you before you could, effectively shutting you up.

and, really, you weren’t complaining

[cazshmere]

Moon Signs and the Trap of Manipulation 🎭

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: This post is meant to bring awareness to subtle manipulation tactics that each Moon sign might be more vulnerable to. Being aware of these patterns can help you set better boundaries and protect yourself from being taken advantage of. Remember, manipulation isn’t always obvious, and recognizing these behaviors can help you stay in control of your own choices. These are just my personal observations so please take them with a grain of salt 🎭

♈ Aries Moon

1. People pretend to be your friends but secretly compete with you, trying to one-up or outshine you.

2. Manipulators make you feel like you’re in charge, knowing that stroking your ego makes you more willing to comply.

3. You can be guilt-tripped into taking the lead in situations, even when it’s not beneficial to you.

4. You might be manipulated into unnecessary fights, arguments, or rivalries by people who provoke you on purpose.

5. People may secretly compete with you by copying your ideas, style, or achievements while pretending to admire you. They subtly try to outdo you or take credit for your originality, making you feel the need to constantly prove yourself.

🎭 for instance a “friend” that always hypes you up as the leader but subtly takes credit for your ideas and efforts. you end up doing all the work while they sit back and benefit.

♉ Taurus Moon

1. People use financial or emotional security to gain control over you.

2. Being pampered with gifts, acts of service, or luxurious experiences can make you overlook red flags sometimes.

3. Some people make you dependent on them so that you feel like you need them to be okay.

4. Fear of change or instability can be used to keep you in a stagnant or toxic situation.

5. People may appeal to your loyalty, making you feel guilty for leaving situations that no longer serve you.

🎭 okay so for instance a partner provides for you financially and always does nice things for you, but slowly starts controlling where you go, what you do, and who you see. since they’ve “done so much for you”, you feel guilty setting boundaries.

♊ Gemini Moon

1. People who can keep up with your mind can subtly steer your opinions and perceptions.

2. If someone engages you in deep, interesting conversations, you may ignore their true motives.

3. You might be manipulated through fast-talking, gaslighting, or cleverly twisted words.

4. You could be distracted by fun, new ideas, or constant entertainment, making you miss underlying manipulation.

5. People can create an “information overload”, overwhelming you so you stop questioning them.

🎭 okay so lets say there’s this friend who always has fascinating conversations with you but subtly inserts their own biases and over time, you start adopting their beliefs without realizing they’ve been shaping your opinions💀 scary ngl

♋ Cancer Moon

1. People who play the victim can make you feel responsible for their happiness.

2. You may stay in toxic situations out of loyalty, especially if someone reminds you of past good times.

3. Guilt-tripping tactics like “after everything I’ve done for you” can make you feel obligated to help.

4. Some people use their emotions to control your actions, acting sad or hurt whenever you set boundaries.

5. Fear of abandonment can be exploited to keep you stuck in draining relationships.

🎭 okay so lets say a family member constantly reminds you how much they sacrificed for you, making you feel guilty for prioritizing yourself. even when they mistreat you, you feel like you “owe” them loyalty.

♌ Leo Moon

1. Flattery and constant praise can blind you to manipulation.

2. People who make you feel special or put you on a pedestal can subtly control your actions.

3. Your fear of being embarrassed or looking bad in public can be used against you.

4. Manipulators may guilt you into staying by making you feel like their admiration is conditional.

5. Someone may create a situation where they “need” you to save them, making you feel heroic.

🎭 for example a partner constantly praises you in public but privately criticizes and controls you. you don’t want to leave because you feel like everyone sees you as a “power couple” because of the manipulation😕

♍ Virgo Moon

1. People convince you that you owe them help or that it’s your job to fix things.

2. You might be guilt-tripped into doing more by people who act helpless or incompetent.

3. Manipulators use your perfectionism against you, making you feel like nothing you do is “enough”.

4. Constant subtle criticism can make you dependent on their validation.

5. You might be drawn to “projects” or people who seem broken but just need your help to “change”.

🎭 let’s say a boss subtly criticizes your work but also tells you that “no one else can do it like you,” making you work extra hard for their approval😕

♎ Libra Moon

1. People use your desire for peace to pressure you into saying yes.

2. Manipulators guilt you into staying by saying you’re being “cold” or “selfish.”

3. Someone may use social circles or mutual connections to trap you in toxic dynamics.

4. You may stay in bad situations to avoid confrontation or looking like the bad guy.

5. Love-bombing (excessive charm and attention) can make you ignore red flags.

🎭 a friend always acts hurt whenever you say no, making you feel guilty. you keep agreeing to things just to avoid feeling like a bad person.

♏ Scorpio Moon

1. People create deep emotional connections quickly to trap you.

2. Secrets, shared trauma, or deep conversations can be used as a tool to control you.

3. Someone might convince you that only they truly understand you, making you dependent on them.

4. Emotional blackmail, threats, or withholding affection can keep you attached.

5. Manipulators might play with your trust issues, making you feel like you are the problem.

🎭 let’s say a partner love-bombs you, creates an intense emotional bond, then slowly isolates you from others, making you feel like they’re the only one who truly gets you, BLARING RED FLAG BABY 🚩🚩

♐ Sagittarius Moon

1. People convince you to take risks, knowing you love spontaneity.

2. Manipulators promise big, exciting things but never deliver.

3. Someone might make you feel “boring” or “trapped” if you try to be cautious.

4. Your belief in freedom may be twisted into an excuse for them to avoid responsibility.

5. You might be manipulated into chasing dreams that only benefit them.

🎭 someone constantly asks for your insights, ideas, or perspectives, making you feel valued for your wisdom. but later, they present your knowledge as their own, taking credit while you’re left wondering if you were just being used as a stepping stone.

♑ Capricorn Moon

1. People make you feel like it’s your job to take care of them.

2. Manipulators guilt you into overworking, making you feel like your success depends on them. I’ve noticed that for Capricorn Moons, there is a high possibility that one or both of their parents control and manipulate them.

3. Your fear of failure can be used to pressure you into doing things.

4. You may feel obligated to stay in a situation because you’ve already invested time and effort.

5. Someone might convince you that leaving means you “lack discipline” or are “giving up”.

🎭 picture this: a toxic work environment convinces you that you must overwork yourself because ‘success comes to those who sacrifice’. the people around you reinforce this message, making you feel like it’s normal😔

♒ Aquarius Moon

1. People use your love for unique perspectives to subtly push their own agenda.

2. Someone might make you feel like only they see the world the way you do.

3. Manipulators can twist your desire for freedom into making you avoid real emotional connections.

4. You might be convinced to reject traditional stability, even when it would benefit you.

5. Your rebellious side may be used to push you into unnecessary conflicts.

🎭 its like when a friend convinces you to cut off everyone in your life because “they don’t understand you,” isolating you so you rely only on them 🚩🚩🚩🚩

♓ Pisces Moon

1. People use your empathy to make you feel like you must save them.

2. Someone might make you believe in a dream-like fantasy to keep you attached.

3. Manipulators use sob stories and victimization to guilt you into staying.

4. You may be gaslit into questioning your reality.

5. Someone might use your idealism to get you to ignore practical concerns.

🎭 for example a toxic partner convinces you that enduring suffering together is a “beautiful love story,” making you ignore red flags💀 like boi???

gif & divider credits to the rightful owners

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

[jacquespy]

As someone allergic to almost every artificial sweetener, absolutely, fuck the current marketing. Shopping takes forever sometimes cause everything I grab I have to double-check. Even products I’d been buying for years given how many brands have sneakily switched to sucralose and nutrisweet without changing their labels.

what "no sugar added" should mean: the natural sugars of the other ingredients like fruit are the only source of sweetness in this product

what is actually means: we added a fuckton of artificial sweeteners

[a-d-nox]

pac/pap: a letter from your future spouse

take what resonates leave what doesn't - nothing is 100% for you because these aren't personalized so please no angry comments or dms about what i am saying not being a good fit for you or that you "don't claim" just keep scrolling if that is the case. be kind, self reflect, and have fun.

last pac/pap: a love life check-up

return to the masterlist of pap/pac posts

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

pile 1

i wonder what you’re doing right now. are you chasing a dream you’ve started to question? laughing with friends who see only parts of the real you? or are you like me - reflecting on the strange twists life keeps throwing your way, trying to make sense of how it all fits together?

i don’t have all the answers, but i know this: our story is unfolding exactly as it should. the setbacks, the detours, the heartbreak - it’s all shaping us, preparing us for the moment our lives finally align. even in the moments when you doubt that there is light ahead, know that i see it clearly. you’re the hope i keep reaching for, even in the dark.

i often imagine meeting you for the first time. maybe it’s ordinary - a passing glance, a casual conversation. but there will be something unshakable about it. something in the way your smile catches me off guard or the way your voice pulls me in. i’ll know it’s you. and even if i don’t say it right away, you’ll feel it too.

right now, i’m still figuring things out. life’s been throwing me in every direction, and i’m just holding on, trying to steer clear of what i can. the funny thing about fate is how it works even when you don’t see it coming. every choice i’ve made, every chance i’ve taken, has brought me closer to you.

when the time is right, i’ll be ready to step up for you, for us. i’m not the person i was yesterday, and i’m still becoming the person i want to be. there is one thing i know for sure: when we meet, i’ll choose you - again and again, every day, through every celebration and every challenge.

yes - there will be celebrations. i want to laugh with you until we can’t breathe, to celebrate to our wins, big and small, and to hold you close when the night winds down. i want to share your joy, your dreams, and every quiet moment in between. you’re the person i want standing next to me through it all.

until then, i’ll keep working on myself, learning from the lessons life throws my way, and holding space for you in my heart. when fate turns in our favor and our paths finally cross, i’ll be ready to give you my love, my devotion, and my whole damn soul.

yours,

future spouse

pile 2

i’ve been lost before. trapped in my own cycles, chasing goals that felt hollow or moving too fast to notice what i was really missing. there were times i poured my energy into the wrong things, thinking that success or control could fill the void. but life has a way of humbling you, of forcing you to stop, slow down, and face the truth: none of it matters without you.

you’re the one who will make me want to be better - not out of obligation, but because i’ll see in you everything i’ve been searching for. you’re my anchor and the softness in need in my life, the one who shows me that love isn’t about perfection or performance, but about presence. when i look at you, i’ll see everything i didn’t know i needed - warmth, patience, and a kind of beauty that radiates from the inside out.

i know i’ve taken the long road to get to you. sometimes i’ve been stuck, unsure of what to do next, afraid to leave what felt comfortable, even when i knew it wasn’t enough. but you’ll be the one who changes that. with you, there will be no fear, no hesitation - only a deep, undeniable pull that i can’t resist.

you have this power, don’t you? to nurture and create, to transform whatever you touch into something extraordinary. you’re a queen in every sense of the word - abundant, radiant, and endlessly giving. i want you to know this: you don’t always have to give. you don’t always have to hold everything together. with me, you can let go. you'll be able to lean on me. i’ll be the one to carry the weight when you’re tired, to remind you how much you’re worth, even when the world forgets.

i know i’ll mess up sometimes. i’ll stumble, i’ll falter, and i’ll get caught in my own head. but i promise i’ll never stop trying. i’ll never stop choosing you. even in the moments when it feels like we’re standing still, i’ll be there, holding your hand, reminding you that we’re exactly where we’re meant to be.

there’s no moving on from you. no walking away, no running from the love i know we’ll have. you’re the one i’ll keep coming back to, again and again, because you’re home. and when we’re together, i’ll spend the rest of my days showing you just how much you mean to me.

my heart is your's,

future spouse

pile 3

if you’ve felt a restless pull in your heart, know that i feel it too. i’m not the kind of man who sits still for long - i’ve always chased what makes me feel alive, even when i didn’t fully understand what i was after. somewhere along the way, i realized what i’ve been searching for is you.

you’re the spark in the distance, the promise of something more. i can feel your energy even now, calling me to move, to grow, to become the man you deserve. i’m not perfect—sometimes i charge ahead too fast, speak before i think, or get caught up in chasing every wild idea that crosses my mind. but one thing i know for sure: when i meet you, everything will fall into focus.

you’re the kind of person who could make a man rethink everything. your passion, your curiosity, your fire - i want to match it and watch us both burn brighter together. with you, every day will feel like an adventure, every moment full of discovery. i want to know your mind, your dreams, and your wildest ideas. i want to be the one who makes you laugh so hard you forget to breathe and who listens when you need to share the thoughts you’ve never spoken aloud.

but i also want you to know this: i’ll be the one who gives you space when you need it. life isn’t always about the chase; sometimes, it’s about the stillness. when the world gets too loud, when the fire feels like it’s burning too hot, i’ll be there to remind you to rest. i’ll be your calm in the chaos, your quiet in the storm.

i know we’ll make mistakes - together and apart. we’ll say the wrong things, take the wrong steps, and sometimes, we’ll need time to figure it all out. but isn’t that part of the beauty? love isn’t about perfection; it’s about showing up, learning, and growing side by side.

i can’t wait to see where life takes us, to chase the wild unknown with you by my side. you make me want to dream bigger, run faster, and still, somehow, savor every single moment. i’m ready to throw myself into this with you, no hesitation, no regrets.

until we meet, i’ll keep searching, learning, and preparing for the day when i get to call you mine.

yours always,

your future spouse

[shy-writer-999]

How many dreams to say "I love you"? (iii)

Summary: Zoro hasn't been able to stop having dreams about you, his best friend and crewmate. When he goes a few days without one, he thinks he's in the clear. Surely, realizing that he's in love with you is enough to make the dreams stop entirely, right? Right?

Part 3 of 4. ~3.6k words. (read part 1 here!) CW: Equal parts smut and plot. Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Sex! Love-making! Mentions of death, danger, and blood. NSFW content - minors stay away!

Part 3: Scattered polaroids.

Zoro had three whole nights of solace after he realized he was in love with you—three nights of no dreams, three nights of long and restful sleep.

After the third night, he was under the impression that the dreams had ceased entirely. The realization that he loved you was the cure for his sickness, he told himself. Now, he could pine after you from afar during the day and sleep peacefully, minding his business at night.

He did just that. For those three days, during his waking hours, he tried to calculate how to get closer to you. He put together nonsensical equations in his mind over how, why, and for how long he had been in love—he could, and would, keep doing this all day until he returned to his bed, savoring each smile from you.

Evidently, the conversation he overheard between you and Nami was the catalyst for the chain reaction of psychological warfare he had withstood for over a week—the end result was a euphoric crescendo of emotions, his realization that he was capable of romantic love and that his heart had been screaming for attention for months.

But what was there to do about it?

More importantly, did you feel the same?

Zoro needed to find out. He wanted to get to the bottom of everything—the conversation, who you had been talking about, why you were having a hard time being lonely around them, and how you felt about him.

While the swordsman did the mental math of what that discussion may look like between the two of you, he felt sick. He had fought dangerous foes of every kind and been on the verge of death many times before, but nothing ever gave him nerves like this.

If you had feelings for someone, would you tell them? He wondered about you, the sorts of decisions you made, how you would act and feel. If he got to the bottom of this situation and discovered that you had feelings for someone other than him, would he be able to cope with the jealousy?

Jealousy.

The emotion started to seethe when he thought about someone other than himself being with you. It boiled inside when he watched Sanji fawn over you, touch the small of your back, and whisper compliments in your ear. Every bashful smile and flutter of your eyelashes in Sanji’s direction twisted some dial inside of Zoro. Too many twists would prove troublesome. Explosive, even.

He knew that that this emotion, envy, had been there for ages before he recognized how he felt about you. It didn’t feel good, and he knew it was unhealthy. Various images and memories flashed through his mind as he recalled instances in which he felt this same burning envy frequently coupled with a fierce desire to protect you.

Zoro tried to comfort himself with the knowledge of what sort of person you were—if you had a problem with Sanji, or with any other person, you would have said something, no? He was certain that you wouldn’t hesitate to stand your ground.

But that thought was less of a comfort than he initially thought it would be, because you hadn’t ever reprimanded the blonde for his advances (that Zoro knew of), but you did shoo him away sometimes. Your smile felt restrained and reserved whenever it was sent in Sanji’s direction. It looked different than the smiles you gave Zoro.

Well, there was no point in getting himself worked up over the dynamic in question. Nothing would change, probably, unless he did something about it.

It had been a while since you and Zoro last spent time together, one on one. And he thought you had been a bit quieter than usual, recently, so… might as well catch up. Maybe spending some time with you would soothe his heart—it felt like it was aching any time you weren’t around, and when you were around it felt like it was on fire. He didn’t know how to cope other than find ways and excuses to spend time with you.

His solution was… lunch. Practical, at the very least, if not the most effective.

On the morning after his third night of restful sleep, Zoro asked you if you’d like to have lunch with him under one of the trees on the deck of the Sunny. This was nothing too out of the ordinary. He grabbed food, some drinks and some napkins and brought them out to you.

When Zoro handed you your plate, you smiled up at him from where you sat and he felt like he would pass out. He had absolutely no clue how to handle this recently unlocked feeling—the feeling of love—and he was trying to act as normal as possible. He was, all things considered, succeeding. 

He didn’t have much trouble acting ‘normal,’ per say. He was simply hyperaware of how beautiful you were, how fast his heartbeat was, and how blisteringly intense your eye contact was. He had noticed inklings of this before, but he was reminded, strongly. Every moment that your eyes met his, his heart fluttered. He was trying not to blush. It felt very out of character.

“How have you been recently?” Zoro tried to start the conversation casually.

“I’m fine,” you responded with a smile, like usual. “The same as ever. What about you?”

Zoro wondered if that was worth pressing you on, since you seemed a bit sad, or distant, or something along those lines. He decided it was worth it. Ignoring your question to him, he followed up.

“You sure you’re fine? You’ve been a bit quiet recently.”

You tried to brush it off. You had been quieter recently, and for good reason. You thought he didn’t know the reason, but he did. At least, he knew the bare bones of it. Something along the lines of feeling lonely.

“Ah, yeah. I guess I have been a bit down recently.” You responded, trying to hold your smile and pretend like your heart wasn’t crying inside. He studied your face closely, and you could tell.

“Why’s that?”

You had a brief internal battle over whether or not you would be candid with him, but you didn’t have it in you that day and the scenery wasn’t anywhere near private enough. You lied. “No reason, really. I’m not quite sure why.”

“If you ever want to talk about it, let me know.” Zoro smiled sweeter than you had ever seen and then dropped the subject. His smile was uncharacteristically sweet. Heart-stoppingly sweet. Painfully sweet. It was like a dagger.

You told him thanks and the conversation moved on. As a whole, lunch was enjoyable. Afterwards, you both felt significantly more at ease. To spend time together always brought your respective spirits up. It was a great dynamic—no wonder Zoro was in love with you.

Zoro told himself that he should just keep checking on you and go even more out of his way to spend time with you. He’d double down. Maybe it was lunch today, and then tomorrow it could be dinner. And after that, he’d ask you to watch the sunset with him in the crow’s nest. Or would he whisk you away and confess his feelings in his cabin? He was scrambled in the head, confused by that classic paradox of choice, where there are so many options that you’re incapable of choosing one. Was it even the right call to tell you how he felt? Would it screw everything up?

“Oh, Zoro?” Your voice stopped him in his tracks down the hallway after lunch. “Want to have some drinks tomorrow night? It’s been a minute since we caught up. You stood me up last time, remember?”

You were joking, but it was true. Last time Zoro asked you to have some drinks with him after a hard training session he completely forgot and fell asleep. You both laughed about it afterwards, and you used it to poke fun at him sometimes.

He agreed. "Yeah, drinks tomorrow night. I promise."

That was one problem solved.

DREAM 10: Un-solved

That night Zoro dreamed about you. It broke up that momentary peace he had of three nights with no dreams—it seems the internal turmoil of the day was enough to evoke a vivid and striking dream, unlike any others he had before.

Zoro found himself in a dimly lit bedroom lying on a big bed. The sheets and blankets were smooth and plushy. He could hear someone breathing next to him and he knew that you were there.

Turning his head, he saw that you were lying on your side facing away from him, completely nude, hair sitting perfectly on a silk pillowcase. The sheets were pulled down, so he could see your whole silhouette. In the dream, Zoro could feel himself compelled by something, reaching out a hand to pull you closer to him so your bodies were flush.

He smelled your hair, felt how soft your skin was, and ran a rough hand up and down the side of your body, trying to memorize every inch. He ran a palm over your hips and down your thighs, felt your back, shoulders, and waist; he was drinking up every second that his hands wandered over your skin, like your body was an oasis and he was dying of thirst.

You let out an indistinct noise. He couldn’t hear it well enough. It sounded like a sigh. As his hands moved, you stirred, turning your shoulder into his, giving him more access.

The faint sound trickled out of your mouth again, this time audible. Your voice sounded sleepy, sweet and faint. “Zoro.” He could feel his heart trip when his name fell from your lips.

Your hand groped back to grip his thigh and you whispered his name again. “Zoro. More.”

He snuck his hand from your hip to your front, starting to knead and cup your breasts. His fingers elicited another hushed entreaty from your lips. “Zoro. More.”

Suddenly aware of his hard-on pressing on you, his hand lingered on your chest and he began to kiss you. He started with you shoulder blade, marking a trail of kisses up to your neck, taking in deep breaths of your hair and skin. His kisses were soft and loving, coaxing more pleasant sighs from you.

He wanted to taste every inch of you, to draw out those sounds and muffled noises that he was starting to become acquainted with (at least, in his dreams).

Zoro lavished your skin with affection and care for a few moments, and you said his name again. Every time you said his name, it felt like every nerve in his body buzzed.

“Zoro. I need you.”

The dream fogged up and transformed. He was leaning over you from between your legs, missionary style. You were looking up at him, eyes pleading, hair ruffled just right.

Zoro’s erection was positioned right at your entrance, precum beading and pooling around his red, angry tip. The scene was vivid—his mind replicated every facet of what this would look and feel like in real life, down to each atom of detail. It was absurd.

He gawked at you, eyes jumping between your needy face and pouting lips and your glistening core. One of his hands was stroking his shaft leisurely, and the other gripped your waist.

“Please, Zoro.”

As your begging reached his ears, he slowly pressed into you, letting out a hiss of air through his teeth when he bottomed out because it felt so good. You gasped and the sound felt heavenly in his ears.

“Fuuuccckk, Zoro.”

He leaned in to kiss you, bringing a hand to cup your cheek. Your lips were still locked when he started slowly rocking his hips into yours, dragging his cock in and out of you slowly.

You felt amazing, so warm and wet around him, squeezing him perfectly. He sped up, finding the perfect pace. As his hips rolled into yours, you began to moan his name, mewling it into his mouth as he explored yours with his tongue.

Zoro reached a hand and pushed one of your thighs down, allowing for the deepest angle possible. He wanted to hit your g-spot just right; he wanted to make you feel good, wanted to see your eyes roll back in your head and hear his name as many times as possible.

The dreamscape transformed again, just slightly. He was in the same position, but your faces were centimeters away now. You were holding his cheeks in your hands, making eye contact as he thrusted into you, deep and slow.

“Zoro,” you panted. “Feels good, Zoro. You feel so fucking good.”

He could feel your legs wrap around him, could feel you grinding down on his cock, trying to fuck yourself with it deeper.

A moment later, you were holding hands, fingers entwined. You moaned his name and only his name. He could feel himself about to let go. Your eyes were entrancing.

“Zoro,” you keened, arching your back up and squeezing his hands tightly. “Tell me you love me, Zoro.”

His heart stopped again and picked up at a rapid pace; his hips did the same, moving haphazardly, stuttering and shaking. He was seconds away from cumming in you, pleasure building into one massive cliff that he was about to free fall from.

“I—love—you,” he thrusted between each labored breath and grunt. The words tumbled out of his mouth and on the last one he orgasmed. He reeled with ecstasy, convulsing in pleasure as his cum painted the inside of you a hot, milky white.

Zoro collapsed on your chest panting. One of your hands traced circles on his back and the other petted his head, which rested in the crook of your neck. You cooed “good job baby” in his ear and kissed his shoulder.

He woke up, and even though he wasn’t shaking or sweating this time, he felt extremely unwell. It took him a moment to realize that he came all over the inside of his underwear while he was asleep. While his return to consciousness was gentler this time in comparison to his other dreams, he was still disturbed. It was a scarily realistic and wildly intimate dream.

He tried to get his thoughts in order. There was no point in feeling any shame here, he told himself, because you didn’t dream about that on purpose. But really, what the fuck was going on? A wet dream? How long had it been since he had one of these?

The frustration he felt upon waking was agonizing. Three whole days and nights of a clear head. He thought that since he realized he loved you, the dreams had stopped—the realization of his feelings had been the cure to his lovesickness, after all.

Evidently, he was wrong. One intense dream snapped Zoro back into the insanity he had lived in for a week. He felt like he was going to go crazy.

Wasn’t the realization that he loved you enough to make the dreams stop? If that wasn’t enough, then what would be?

Did he have to do something about it?

Fuck.

He really had to do something about it. Perhaps he’d do something about it when he had drinks with you.

But those promised drinks never came.

The next day, the Strawhat crew ran into a hostile pirate group. The skirmish lasted a handful of hours. Lucky for the crew, there were no truly formidable opponents, but it still ended up being a pain in the ass. The crew got separated, and Zoro got lost and left behind—an experience he was well familiar with.

Finally making his way back to where the ship was docked, after hours of wandering around aimlessly on the island and defeating some random mid-tier power user, Zoro returned to the ship. He was met with a startling sight.

The Sunny was ransacked. On first impression, the crew was nowhere to be found. Your absence was starting to agitate him more than usual when he realized the ship was most likely empty. His latent realization of his love was certainly contributing to that.

As the swordsman explored the ship and went room to room, his distress mounted.

There were blood splatters on the walls of some of the hallways—a pattern that looked like someone, gravely injured, was dragging themselves around the ship. In addition, it looked like every inch of the ship had been turned inside out. The kitchen was a mess, pots and pans everywhere, and even the chairs and table were flipped over at odd angles.

In a rising panic, he dragged himself to your room. He was sure it wasn’t you who was injured and struggling, but… what if it was? Might as well check.

As he suspected, your cabin was plundered and empty, too. His heartbeat was through the roof, his vision started to go red in agitation.

Where were you?

In your room, the pirates rifled to their hearts’ content, searching for money, treasure, whatever they could get their greedy hands on.

Your mattress had been ripped off the bed. The drawers on your desk were pulled out and emptied, the sparse contents littered around the floor. Your closet was ravaged, too. Clothes were in piles and tatters on the floor. Your lamp was knocked over, and the bulb was shattered.

Geez, what the fuck were they doing in here? Zoro wondered. He took in the view for a brief second, noting that you weren’t here, and that he needed to move on. If the crew was in a tight spot right now he ought to go help them out instead of dawdling around on the ship in a frenzy searching for you.

Maybe you were with Luffy or the shit cook—maybe you had your snail, maybe he could call you and check if you were okay.

He had only felt this level of panic a couple times in his life so far. A thought cut through his worry—what if I lose her? What if I lose her before I’ve said anything?

He felt like he was sinking. His vision started to tunnel, his hand jumped to rest on one of his swords, getting ready to cut someone down at a moment’s notice. As he turned to leave your room, a lightning bolt of clarity struck him. Scattered across the floor carelessly was a messy tornado of polaroid photos.

Your camera was crushed to bits in a corner, but the photos, which you’d been taking for ages at this point, had been torn from their little box in your closet and thrown everywhere.

Most of the photos, he realized, were of him. His heart panged. He had never seen this many photos of himself in one spot. His memories with the crew slipped through his fingers every day as they happened, but when recorded and hoarded like this he noticed how happy he looked in the photos. Was it because you were taking them?

When did that light start coming into his eyes?

His stomach flipped. You weren’t here. Your room was destroyed. You were in danger.

In a panic, Zoro pocketed a handful of them and darted out of the room. He hurriedly checked the rest of the ship—completely empty, ransacked and pillaged. Luckily, the pirates didn’t find Nami’s stash. But aside from that, almost no corner of the ship was left untouched.

His heart started to feel like it was seizing—if he didn’t find you fast, he was going to snap.

Would the photos you took of him be the only relic of your shared moments of happiness?

He ran onto the deck, out of breath and sweating, and looked at the shore. Time froze.

A wave of relief crashed over Zoro as he took in the sight—the crew was now strewn around the beach. Some were laying on their backs in exhaustion from the battle, others were huddled up, talking, and still, some were injured, getting briefly triaged by Chopper. Nothing looked too serious. His eyes darted around, searching for you.

You were standing next to Luffy, holding your side and wincing. A pool of blood saturated your shirt, radiating outwards from where you pressed your palm to stop the flow of blood.

You were alive. Injured, yes, but alive. He released the tension in his body and a preliminary feeling of relief coursed through him.

It seems like Zoro had forgotten that life on the seas wasn’t just sunshine, lunches on deck, pining, and exploration. Death and danger were key elements of the whole experience.

Not only had he been lacking on his training, but he was lacking on being an attentive and good friend to you, let alone a crew mate that could protect you. In the lapse and haze he had been in for the past couple weeks, he had let his guard down somehow.

Ever hard on himself, Zoro had a ‘come to Jesus’ moment. He needed to sort shit out with you, fast. He didn’t want to have any regrets. He couldn’t lose someone that he loved again.

Taking deep breaths and internally cursing himself out, Zoro made his way down the gangplank and onto the beach. He decided that when the ship was cleaned up, and everyone was bandaged and fed, he would confess.

This love was festering in him. It had festered for far too long before forcing him to acknowledge it. He couldn’t cope anymore. The next chance he got, he would tell you how he felt, no matter what.

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taglist: @riftmage27 @eggrollforyou @imhwajaez @wiyenspanel @xxmysticxxx @moonmaiden1996 @chibinasu @theilluminatidragonqueen @becca-oak @my-name-is-heartache @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @adamwarlockislife-blog

a/n: happy valentine's day, everyone! thanks for your patience waiting for this one :) the next part won't take as long ❤️❤️

[lieslab]

Where's my love?

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X afab reader

Summary: Unannounced and unplanned, you leave your boyfriend, but when he finds you again, things have changed drastically.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 2.7K

_ _ _

The sky grew dark again and that meant another night of suffocation for Chan. Another night of looking at the moon and hoping somewhere in the city of Seoul, you were looking at it too. In theory, the moon is all he has left of you. 

Every time he called your name, the quiet halls haunted him. Each time he dialed your number, the same automatic and robotic voice caused his heart to quiver; a threat to burst at the seams. The texts never fell through. You blocked his number weeks ago. No matter how hard he’d tried, he’d never get through. 

The worst thing about loving someone is putting your heart on a line. Handing someone a loaded gun and trusting them not to pull the trigger. The evenings used to fill with shared laughter. Your smile that he thought could harness his own happiness forever. 

As long as you stayed, his confidence grew. Those what-if thoughts turned into a reality. You provided a stable structure for the foundation of his heart. Any time he had doubts or the fears became too large, he found himself finding hope again between your hands. With his cheeks pressed against your hands, the reassuring sound of your voice, he never thought he’d have to live without it. 

He knew he had his flaws. Everyone had their flaws, but he never thought those flaws drove a wedge between the two of you. Life turned into a balancing act. Everything went well and when it fell apart, he thought you trusted him enough to open up. 

Whether that had been a lie or if he hurt you in a way that he couldn’t understand, he didn’t know. You didn’t give him a chance to explain. In the middle of a silent night, Chan stayed in the studio to finish up a beat. 

At your shared home, tears laced your eyes. In a panic and disbelief, you threw your clothes into an open suitcase. The clothes, the toiletries, and your favorite photo of the two of you. You snatched the small black frame and threw it into your suitcase, hoping it wouldn’t bend. 

Driving home from the studio, exhaustion laced Chan’s head. Purple bags smeared beneath his eyes. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a glimpse of your car. The first few numbers of the license plate matched yours, but exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. 

He didn’t realize your side of the closet turned empty. He didn’t take notice of your missing shoes. He went directly into your room, collapsed on the bed, and fell asleep assuming you were in the bathroom. It wouldn’t be anything new for you. With a small bladder, you always had to go. 

The horrendous truth wouldn’t hit him until the next morning. _ _ _ 

In the morning, blue birds sang. The only woodpecker living in the backyard filed away at a tree with a sharp beak. A mirage of morning colors swept across the bustling city. Chan rolled over, expecting to get his hands on you, but you weren’t there. 

In a sleepy haze, his eyes half-opened and he glanced around the room. A faint light filtered through the laced curtains. He squinted, looking around trying to figure out where you were, wondering if you were up making breakfast. Sometimes you woke up early, but other times, you stayed in bed past noon. 

He never knew what the mornings would bring with you. Tender touches, quick kisses, and the rest unraveled into a mystery. Would the two of you argue over the simplicity of pancakes or waffles? The age old question that you always fought over. 

Perhaps, the morning would end with him wrapping you in his arms and refusing to let you go. He’d hold you hostage and appreciate you more than you’d ever know. While you swear, he’d laugh and squeeze you tighter. Promising, vowing, and praying that none of this would ever change. 

For a few more seconds, a few more minutes, another hour, the two of you would stay side-by-side. Two hearts beating for one another through thin, stretched skin. Two halves of a whole, being forced to separate for society’s standards, before the two of you could reunite again. 

He shoved himself up, ran a hand through his messy curls, and started to search for you. He called your name, rubbed his eyes, and padded out into the living room. The TV remained silent. Your shoes weren’t parked on the usual rug beside the door. The hooks holding your house and car keys remained empty. Two golden hooks without their usual objects. A house without a beating heart. He assumed you went out to get breakfast, but the messages remained unread. 

Having to go back to work, he sent you a final text. One final text that you didn’t gather the courage to read until hours later. Hours too late. You were already miles away. You whispered the words, pretended he was reading them off to you, but you never responded. Instead, you hit the block button. 

A heavy heart, eyes swollen with tears, maybe one day he’d understand, but you had to do what was best for the both of you. 

Even if it nearly killed you in the process. 

_ _ _ 

Four years, seven months, and two days. 

That’s how long it took before the two of you stumbled into each other again. The first months hurt and the wounds on each of your hearts grew raw. You bled endlessly, but what more could you do? Everything always fell apart before it could come back together again. 

You still kept up to date with Chan’s band. You bought every album and listened to every song. Woven through the lyrics of his song, a man mourned. He bled guilt. He pleaded for his lover’s return, but it never led to anything. 

Those first few weeks, he searched for you everywhere. With a photo of you, he went into your favorite places, desperately holding up your smiling face to employees, begging to know if they had seen you. Nobody ever did. You faded into the abyss, but his feelings for you never did. 

You vanished like a ghost. You haunted him at all the wrong times. Your missing presence caused the band to go on hiatus for three months. Nobody could make music when their leader was mourning. 

The guys tried to call you. They tried hunting you down. Chan even tried to contact your parents, but no matter what it did, it was a lost cause. The only thing that gave him hope was your best friend. 

At a loss, he appeared on their front doorstep in tears. Begging and pleading to know if you were okay. They promised you were, swore to him that it’d make sense one day, and shut the door. It never made any sense until today. 

The guys wanted his father’s lamb. His father was in Australia and he knew it’d never be as good as his father’s, but he tried to recreate it anyway. The guys had worked non-stop over the past six months. Their latest album sat at the top of the charts for seven weeks in a row and they were hoping it’d stay there for a while. 

Your disappearance caused his heart to ache, but it grew less now. Time heals all wounds and this one was no different. Deep down, he always hoped he’d be able to see you again, but he accepted that your disappearance was final. He’d never get the closure and that stung, but what else could he do?

In a face mask and a baseball hat hiding his face, he heard your voice first. A pack of raw lamb sat in his hand. Debating how many packs to buy, he thought he might have finally lost it. 

“No, no, no. What did I say? We can’t poke the raw meat’s plastic. If our fingers go through it, we can get sick. We don’t want that, do we?” 

Your voice wasn’t harsh, but rather a gentle compassion. He spun around to find you grabbing the hand of a small toddler and coaxing them away from the raw meat. His heart fluttered against the side of his chest. 

There you were. Your hair grew longer, but the bags beneath your eyes remained the same. Tucked in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, you chose your comfort over society’s peer pressure to look your best all the time. He thought he might drop to his knees. 

“Do you want to sit in the cart? We’re almost done and then we can go back home. Grandma is waiting for us. It’s supposed to snow later. We need to get back to her house before the storm starts.”

Your hands reached out, but their head shook. Black hair bobbed and sat in waves around her small shoulders. Dressed in a pink fluffy coat and fur-lined winter boots, her little foot stomped. “No!” 

“Come on, honey, let’s-” 

The little girl spun around and took off running. Not realizing how close the stranger was, she dashed into Chan’s legs. He gasped and reached down to steady her. 

Your eyes widen. “I’m so sorry! She can be a handful and-” Your cheeks went red as you hurried forward to grab her. 

The girl’s head tipped back, trying to see who she ran into. Chan reached up and gently pulled his mask down. The girl gasped and grinned. Two dimples and a mouthful of baby teeth. “Daddy!” 

“No, honey. This isn’t-” As your eyes met Chan’s, your world stopped. “Bang Chan?” 

“Daddy!” The little girl squealed again. Her tiny arms wrapped around one of his legs. 

He had so many questions for you, but they didn’t come out. Instead, his gaze fell onto the child at his feet. The same brown eyes as his. The same dimples. Looking at her reminded him of the childhood photos of himself. 

She had your smile, but from what he could see, everything else was from him. She cooed and pressed her head into his leg. “I like your music. Makes me dance.” 

“Honey,” you pleaded again quietly. “Come on, I’m sure he’s busy and-” 

“Is this why you left me?” The words fell out before he could stop them. “Is she really my daughter?” 

You blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. Coming back to Seoul had been a terrible idea, but your mother lived here. You couldn’t just stay away from her forever. You knew there was a chance you’d run into Chan when you were back, so you went to the places you thought he never visited. Apparently, times had changed over the years. 

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” 

“So you can leave me again?” He asked. Sadness laced his voice and your heart squeezed with pain. You hadn’t meant to cause him any harm, but you knew you had. 

You glanced around, making sure the two of you weren’t being eavesdropped on. Realizing it, he tugged up his face mask again, so nobody could recognize him. Your eyes slipped shut and then they reopened. 

“I left you because I was pregnant. It was a stupid thing to do, I know. Deep down, I was terrified you’d want to stop making music. I couldn’t ask you to pick between leaving your band and being a father.” 

“So you just left without a good-bye?” 

“It was cowardly, but I was afraid. I was afraid of everything. I didn’t know if I was going to go through with the pregnancy. I didn’t know if you wanted me to keep the baby. I didn’t know a lot of things. By leaving, it was easier than forcing you to choose.” 

“I have a daughter?” 

“Her name is Odette.” You stepped around the grocery cart, bent down, and picked her up. “I know that I’ll never be able to-” 

“Odettie Berry!” Odette squealed. “That’s me!” 

“Berry?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “You couldn’t be there when I named her. I felt awful when Berry died. I know how much you loved her, so I just…” 

The hurt grew indescribable. Your actions had been those of a coward, but knowing that you named your daughter after the dog he loved the most, it was touching. Odette Berry was perfect. 

He reached down and placed the grocery basket on the ground. “Can I hold her?” You nodded and gently handed her to him. 

She smelled like a faint mixture of baby powder and lavender. Her rounded head dipped forward. Her chin pressed against his shoulder and caused him to smile. A loud yawn pulled at her lips. You blinked rapidly, trying not to cry again. 

To her, her father was not a stranger. You let her watch every new Skzoo Code video. Every new song, the two of you listened to together. No matter the distance you put between you and Chan, you still made sure she knew who her father was. 

“Come back home,” Chan whispered pleadingly. “She’s my daughter, too.” 

“I don’t want to cause any issues.” 

“I still have the apartment. The spare bedroom is empty. I still have all of your stuff that you left behind. You can’t just keep her hidden away from me now that I know she exists.” 

“Wolf Chan,” Odette mumbled as her eyes drooped. 

“She knows about Wolf Chan?” 

“Daddy’s plushie.” 

You cursed softly beneath your breath and scrambled through the items in the cart. “He’s in here somewhere.” You pushed aside the bread and eggs. Digging through the cold meat, you finally found him. “She can’t sleep without him.” You held it out to Chan. 

He grabbed it and brought it towards your daughter. “Is this who you’re looking for? Wolf Chan?” 

“Mmhm.” 

He smiled at her sleepy voice and tucked it beneath her arm. “There you go. You can sleep tight now, little one. Wolf Chan is here to save the day. You’re safe in Daddy’s arms.” 

You sniffled and wiped at the tears, trying to stop them. He paused when he said you. “Sorry,” you whispered. “I’ve been hoping you’d accept her, but I-I didn’t know. She loves you and the guys so much.” 

“She knows about the guys?” 

“Of course, I’ve told her about her uncles. Do you really think I’d never tell her? She has all of their plushies too. They line her bed and she can’t sleep without them. I think she loves Seungmin and Felix the most.” 

“Seungmin?” 

“She finds his bullying funny.” 

“You’re raising our daughter to be a Seungmin junior?” 

“No!” Your head shook rapidly. “I said she likes Felix too. She loves to help me bake. Just you wait, she tries to make beats like you too. Back home, she’s constantly tapping away at the kitchen table. I think she’s like you more than you’ll ever know.” 

“Please come back home.” 

He reached an arm out towards you. Without hesitation, you hurried over and wrapped your arms around him. Your shoulder lightly pressed against your daughter. For a few moments, the world stopped, and the missing pieces realigned. 

Your cart of groceries sat abandoned behind you. Chan’s struggle for lamb seemed like a minor inconvenience more than anything. The guys wanting lamb brought him back together with you and his daughter. 

Odette Berry curled into his shoulder and cuddled a Wolf Chan plushie. This morning, his biggest challenge of the day was finding enough lamb. Now it was figuring out how to adjust to life with a child. 

No matter how upset your actions made him, no matter how much it hurt; he understood it now. No matter how much he wished you would have picked better choices, it was far too late. Things finally aligned in his favor and that was all that mattered now. 

Four years, seven months, and two days. That’s how long it took him to find you again. Despite that, a lifetime of memories now awaited him. New memories with his daughter. He’d have to figure out how to tell the guys that he had a kid. 

His ghost had finally been found and that was the best gift anyone could ever give him. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[thevibraniumveterans]

Bucky did have a point though. Let’s revisit what he said to Sam.

“He gave you that shield not because you’re the strongest, but because you’re you.”

Sam is a good man. We know this. We’ve seen this. There’s more than enough evidence to prove this. Here’s the thing — way back when, in The First Avenger, Erskine told Steve: “Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are, not a perfect soldier, but a good man.” Steve stayed a good man, and after meeting Sam, knew that Sam was a good man too. Steve recognized the great qualities that made Sam, Sam, and decided that those qualities were worth handing the shield to Sam for.

“You think if you had that serum, you’d be able to protect all the people you care about. Steve had it, and he couldn’t.”

Steve couldn’t even save Bucky when he fell off that train, couldn’t even save Peggy, couldn’t even save Natasha, couldn’t even save Tony. Couldn’t save half his friends that he lost when Thanos snapped his fingers. Again, Steve is not perfect. He did have the serum and couldn’t even save the people he truly cared about. Steve doesn’t have godlike qualities, he’s only human, but a super-powered human at that. That still didn’t help him, did it, other than making him stronger? Steve’s morals didn’t once change, but again, his morals didn’t save his friends.

“You’re a human being and you’re doing your best.”

True, Sam is doing his best in everything that he does, but sometimes in the eyes of certain other people, best isn’t good enough. There’s so much about Sam being a Black man wearing the Stars and Stripes (as he pointed out in TFATWS), that everything he does has to be twice as good, only to get half as far, so to even be as good, he has to do four times better than anyone else. Someone has said elsewhere that Sam was struggling to fill Steve’s shoes, to live up to the legacy he left behind, but — and spoiler (what isn’t spoiled by now anyway) — Joaquin is struggling to fill Sam’s shoes.

“Steve gave people something to believe in, but you… you give them something to aspire to.”

And speaking of Joaquin. First, Steve. Steve represented and symbolized the ideals upon which the USA was founded, but never once really symbolized the USA itself (evident in the comics, the MCU, and what Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie have said). Steve’s morals were something that people could look up to, being pure of heart, having your best interests in mind, and all that. Sam, in doing all that he can do, as an Avenger and now Captain America, really gave people something to aspire to. Which brings Joaquin into the equation. Throughout TFATWS (admittedly during which Joaquin doesn’t make that many appearances) and CA:BNW, Joaquin is excited to be working alongside his hero Sam Wilson. Joaquin is a little goofy at times but only because he’s Sam’s #1 fan. He’s trying to do his best to meet or even exceed Sam’s nigh-impossible standards, because he looked up to Sam for years. Joaquin even told Sam he wanted to be (like) him, be the Falcon that Sam once was. What must’ve been like for Sam to get told by his protégé, no less, that he’d set a very good example of the type of person to be? What Joaquin told Sam was basically that he hadn’t failed, that Sam was just being himself, doing his best, and inadvertently instilling hope in the younger generation. That is the highest compliment Sam ever needs.

earlier:

now:

Captain America: Brave New World

[777bae]

THE MISSING PIECE WILL SMITH

Summary :: You and Will grew up together, sharing everything from street hockey games to late-night skates. But as the years passed, something shifted, and Will started looking for love in all the wrong places. It takes him years—and a few broken hearts—to realize that the one he’s been searching for was right there all along. (REQUESTED :: prompt 13)

Warnings :: angst with eventual comfort/fluff, unrequited love, childhood friends to lovers, two idiots in love

Word count :: 15.9k (i got very carried away lol)

The town you grew up in was small, the kind of place where nothing ever really changed. The streets were lined with old maple trees whose leaves turned the sidewalks gold in autumn, and whose branches stood bare and elegant against the sky in winter. The houses were familiar, most of them passed down through generations, and the people—even more so.

Everyone knew everyone. The local diner had the same waitresses taking the same orders year after year. The corner store was run by a man who still remembered what kind of candy you liked when you were seven. Summers smelled like fresh-cut grass and barbecue smoke, the air thick with the sound of cicadas and the occasional crack of a baseball bat from the little league field down the road. Autumns came with crisp air and the crunch of fallen leaves beneath your boots, the excitement of Halloween lingering in the air even after the candy was gone.

And then there was winter.

Winter belonged to the ice.

It started in December, when the temperature dropped low enough that the ponds froze solid and the snowbanks grew taller than you. The town came alive in a different way then—driveways filled with kids playing street hockey, backyard rinks lit up under the glow of porch lights, the sharp sound of skates carving across ice. It was cold, sometimes too cold, but it didn’t matter. Not when there was hockey. Not when there was him.

Will had lived next door to you since the day you were born. His house sat close enough that if you stood on your tiptoes at your bedroom window, you could just barely see into his. Between your houses was a stretch of grass that might as well have been neutral territory—claimed by both families, but really, it belonged to you and Will. It was where you played tag in the summers, lying in the grass afterward, staring up at the clouds and making up stories about the shapes they formed. It was where you built snow forts in the winter, perfecting your defense strategies for the inevitable snowball fights that followed.

Your mothers loved to tell the story of how, at three years old, you and Will had wandered into each other’s yards like you had already decided you belonged together. There was no awkward introduction, no hesitation—just a mutual understanding that from that day forward, you would be a pair.

It had been that way ever since.

If one of you was outside, the other one would be too. If Will was climbing a tree, you were right there beside him, scraping your knees and daring him to go higher. If you were building a snow fort, Will was already planning the perfect snowball attack, laughing as he ducked behind his defenses and waited for the perfect moment to strike.

When the two of you started school, it became obvious to everyone else what you had always known—you and Will were a package deal.

You sat next to each other in class, passing notes when the teacher wasn’t looking. You shared your lunch when Will forgot his, and he stole bites of your food even when he didn’t forget. You rode your bikes home together in the afternoons, tires skidding over the cracked pavement as you raced down the street, the wind tangling in your hair.

Everywhere you went, it was just expected that the other would be close behind.

And then, of course—there was hockey.

Hockey wasn’t something you played on a team. It wasn’t about winning, about rules or coaches or referees blowing whistles. Hockey was what you and Will did when the world outside your little town didn’t matter. It was the thing that belonged to just you two, carved into the hours spent on frozen ponds and backyard rinks.

The first time you put on a pair of skates, you were four.

Your parents had taken you and Will to the pond behind his house, where the ice stretched wide and smooth under the pale winter sun. You had been bundled up in layers so thick you could barely move, your mittens too big for your hands, your skates laced up loosely because your mom didn’t know how to tie them tight enough yet.

You still remembered the way your tiny fingers fumbled with the laces, how the cold nipped at your cheeks as you stood up, wobbling on unsteady legs.

“I don’t think I like this,” you said, your skates sliding against the ice. Your knees wobbled, and for a second, it felt like the ground wasn’t beneath you at all—just a slick, unforgiving surface that wanted to see you fall.

Will, standing just as shakily beside you, had turned his head, his missing front teeth making his grin even more lopsided than usual.

“We’ll get better,” he had said confidently, as if there were no other possibility.

And somehow, that was enough to keep you from giving up.

At first, skating meant clinging to the wooden fence in Will’s backyard rink, your tiny hands grasping the frozen wood as tightly as possible while you tried to move without slipping. It meant falling—a lot—until bruises formed on your knees and elbows, until your gloves were damp from the snow. But you never quit, and neither did Will.

And then, one day, you didn’t need to hold onto the fence anymore.

One day, you let go, and when you wobbled, Will reached out and grabbed your hand, steadying you.

“See?” he said, his face bright with excitement. “Told you we’d get better!”

It became a ritual after that. Every winter, the moment the temperature dropped low enough for the ice to freeze solid, you and Will would be out there, bundled up in too many layers, your skates laced up tight. You never played a real game—there were no teams, no rules, no official scores. It was just the two of you, racing each other across the ice, passing a puck back and forth, seeing who could do the best spin without falling over.

By the time you were six, the ice wasn’t something to be afraid of anymore—it was yours. It was familiar, a second home, a place where you and Will spent hours, long after your parents had called you in for dinner, until your fingers were too numb to lace up your skates properly.

And now that you weren’t afraid of falling, now that you had learned to move without stumbling, there was only one thing left to do—go faster.

The pond behind Will’s house was perfect for it. The ice stretched wide and smooth, framed by a ring of bare trees whose branches looked almost black against the winter sky. It was quiet, except for the occasional caw of a crow in the distance or the way the ice creaked beneath your blades.

Most of the time, you and Will would pass a puck back and forth, or you’d make up imaginary teams, calling out plays like the two of you were starring in the Stanley Cup Finals. But some days, like today, it was all about speed.

“I bet I can go faster than you,” Will said, his breath curling in the cold air, the tip of his nose red from the wind.

You scoffed, adjusting your mittens. “No way.”

Will grinned, flashing the gap where his front tooth had fallen out. “You’re scared.”

You straightened, eyes narrowing. “Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Fine!” you huffed. “Race me!”

His grin widened, and that was all the confirmation you needed.

The two of you skated to the edge of the pond, right where the ice met the frozen, snow-covered grass. It was an unspoken rule—this was the starting line.

“To the other side and back,” Will declared. “First one to touch the tree wins!”

You nodded, determination settling in your chest. The tree he was talking about stood at the far edge of the pond, a tall, leafless thing with thick, twisting branches. It had always been your marker—whether you were racing or pretending it was the goalpost in a make-believe game of hockey.

“Ready?” Will asked, crouching slightly, like he had seen real hockey players do.

You bent your knees, copying his stance. “Ready.”

“One… two… three—GO!”

The two of you took off, the ice hissing under your blades.

The cold air bit at your cheeks as you pushed forward, your legs pumping, each stride growing stronger. Will was just ahead of you, his dark coat billowing slightly as he leaned forward, using his arms for momentum.

But you were close.

You dug in, pushing harder, your skates cutting across the ice in smooth, precise strokes. The wind howled past your ears, the world around you blurring until it was just you and him and the race.

Will reached the tree a second before you did, his glove smacking the bark triumphantly before he turned sharply, already speeding back toward the starting point.

But you weren’t going to lose that easily.

Determination burned in your chest as you mirrored his turn, pressing your weight into your skates just like he did. You felt the ice shift beneath you, the sharp edge of your blade slicing cleanly through the surface. For a moment, you thought you might fall—your balance wobbled, the world tilting—but then you steadied, and suddenly you were flying.

Will glanced over his shoulder, his eyes going wide when he saw you gaining on him.

“Hey!” he shouted, laughing. “No fair!”

“Just ‘cause I’m faster than you!” you called back, breathless.

He let out an exaggerated groan, pushing harder, trying to reclaim the lead.

The finish line was only a few feet away now—the spot where you had started, just beyond the pond’s edge. You were side by side, your skates practically in sync, your mittens brushing once, twice, as you both reached out toward the invisible finish line.

And then—

Will slipped.

It happened in an instant—his skate caught on an uneven patch of ice, and before either of you could react, he was falling.

His arms flailed, his body twisting as he tumbled sideways, his momentum sending him skidding across the ice—right into you.

You barely had time to yelp before you went down too, your skates flying out from under you as you crashed onto the frozen surface, your breath whooshing out in a sharp gasp.

For a second, everything was silent. The ice beneath you was solid and cold, your limbs tangled with Will’s as you both tried to process what had just happened.

And then—laughter.

It started with Will, a breathy little chuckle as he lifted his head, his beanie lopsided, his face scrunched up in amusement. And then you couldn’t help it either—you started giggling, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as you lay there, staring up at the gray winter sky.

“You totally knocked me over!” you accused between laughs.

Will gasped, pressing a mittened hand to his chest. “I did not! You ran into me!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“You just couldn’t handle losing,” you teased, sitting up.

Will groaned dramatically, flopping back down on the ice. “I almost won,” he muttered.

“But you didn’t.” You grinned, nudging his arm.

He turned his head toward you, his blue eyes still shining with laughter. “Rematch tomorrow?”

You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin. “Hmm… maybe. If you think you can keep up this time.”

Will gasped again, more dramatic than before, and before you could react, he scooped up a handful of snow from the ice, tossing it at you. It hit your coat in a puff of white, and you shrieked, scrambling to retaliate.

Within seconds, the race was forgotten, replaced by an all-out snow fight.

And maybe you would have a rematch tomorrow.

Or maybe you would just end up laughing and tumbling over each other again, limbs tangled, faces flushed from the cold.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

Because you would always be out here, together.

By the time you were eight, hockey had become an undeniable part of your rhythm, just as much a part of you as the air you breathed. Will had his hockey stick in his hands more often than not, carrying it around like an extension of himself, a trusty companion as familiar as the jacket on his back. And wherever he went, you were sure to follow—skates laced, stick in hand, trying your best to keep up with his ever-growing skills.

One afternoon, you were out on the ice behind Will’s house, the backyard rink gleaming in the late afternoon sun. The frost hung thick in the air, and your breath came out in puffs of steam, drifting upward as if it too was eager to get in on the action. The rink was a wonder—built just the way Will’s dad always did it, smooth and perfect, a sheet of glass that stretched across the yard. The perimeter was lined with snowbanks you’d created together, little mountains of white that were as much a part of the rink as the ice itself.

“Okay, ready?” Will asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, the excitement in his voice a telltale sign that this was one of those important training sessions.

You nodded, tightening your grip on the stick, the leather worn in your hands from all the years of practice.

“Okay,” he said, his tone turning serious. “You have to bend your knees more.”

You nodded, watching him carefully as he demonstrated. His knees bent low, his body leaning into the motion as he glided across the ice like a real hockey player. The speed with which he moved amazed you—how effortlessly he zipped from one end of the rink to the other. Will always seemed to have a natural gift for it, a fluidity that made you wish you could keep up.

“Like this,” he repeated, showing you again, his brow furrowing with concentration.

You bent your knees, mimicking his movements, but the truth was, it felt strange at first—like you weren’t fully in control of your body on the ice. But you weren’t one to give up easily. You pushed forward, trying to master the stance, to get the feel of it, to match his speed.

But just as you started to get into the rhythm, there was a sudden whoosh, and you blinked in surprise.

A snowball.

Will had swung his stick, flicking a perfect snowball off the blade. It hit your jacket with a soft thud, breaking apart on impact, but the message was clear.

“Hey!” you shrieked, laughing. “What was that for?”

Will shot you a mischievous grin, his eyes alight with challenge. “You look too serious. I thought I’d make it more fun!”

Before you could protest, he took off, his skates slicing across the ice as he raced away from you. The snowball fight was on.

You grabbed a handful of snow from the edge of the rink, packing it into your mittens, and gave chase, laughing so hard your sides ached. You dodged and weaved, trying to catch him as he weaved back and forth on the ice, always just out of your reach. His laughter echoed in the air, high-pitched and free, as he taunted you with mock shouts.

“You gotta be quicker than that!” he called over his shoulder.

“No way!” you shouted back, your voice a little winded, but you were determined.

Your skates slid in a fast arc as you closed the gap, finally launching your own snowball at him, the icy mass hitting him squarely on the back. Will let out a dramatic gasp and spun around, mock offense written all over his face.

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

You grinned, knowing that the rules of this game didn’t matter much to either of you anyway.

Hockey wasn’t something you played for the glory of scoring goals, or the thrill of victory. It was never about winning for you and Will—it was about the joy of being together, on this patch of ice that was yours and his alone.

The years had a way of blending together, and yet every winter felt like it was the first one all over again. Every time the backyard rink was built, every time the plastic sheets were rolled out and water was sprayed over them, it was like the world was starting fresh. The ice would form overnight, as if by magic, and the moment it was ready, you and Will were out there, eager to skate, to challenge each other, to share this simple joy.

“First to five wins!” Will called, his voice slicing through the quiet, his stick tapping rhythmically against the ice.

Your heart gave a little jolt. The thrill of the game was in the chase, in the way Will’s grin spread wider every time he won—but not too wide, because he always made sure to give you another shot, to make sure you were never left behind.

It was just a game, sure. But it was your game. Yours and Will’s.

You dug in your skates, pushing off from the snowbank, racing across the rink toward the makeshift goal. You dodged him with a quick flick of your wrist, making a break for the other side of the ice. You could hear Will’s laughter behind you, could see him chasing after you in your peripheral vision, his stick slapping against the ice.

“I’m gonna win this time!” you shouted.

“No chance,” he teased, the competitive glint in his eyes showing that he meant it.

But in the end, just like every other time, even if you lost—he’d always find a way to make it a tie.

He would pause, panting, hands on his hips, looking at you with that goofy grin of his that made everything feel okay.

“We’ll call it a draw this time,” he’d say. “Because I’m feeling generous.”

You’d roll your eyes, grinning back. “You’re so full of it.”

But there was never any argument. There didn’t need to be. You were happy just to be out there, skating under the fading light of the winter sky, your breath rising in visible clouds, your body buzzing from the cold and the joy of the game. And for you, at least, the outcome didn’t matter as much as the moment you shared with him.

You had never been part of a real team, but it didn’t matter. This was your team—the two of you. And it was all you needed.

It was a secret world, one only you and Will knew. The rink, the cold, the game—it was yours. No one else’s. Just the two of you, racing, laughing, and skating together forever.

At ten, you knew that the bond between you and Will wasn’t just something casual or fleeting. It was something different. Something unspoken, yet undeniably there. You didn’t need anyone to tell you that—because in every small moment, it showed.

It wasn’t unusual for you and Will to exchange gifts. Simple things. Things that didn’t need to be wrapped or adorned with bows, because the meaning was always there, inherent in the gesture. But one winter afternoon, as the two of you stood out on the frozen backyard rink, Will handed you something different.

It was a small, round hockey puck. The edges had been worn down with use, its black surface slightly scratched from countless games. But it wasn’t the puck itself that made it special—it was what Will had done with it.

“You’re always losing your stuff,” he teased, his breath visible in the frigid air, his dark hair tousled from the wind. “So, I figured you’d need this.”

He grinned as he held out the puck, and you stared at it, puzzled for a moment. Then you saw it—the black marker scrawl on the surface. Your initials, hastily written but clear enough for you to read.

You felt a warmth spread through you as you took the puck from his hand, your fingers brushing his as you accepted it.

“Don’t lose it,” he said, his tone playful but with an underlying sincerity. “That’s your puck. Only yours.”

You nodded, holding it close, feeling a strange sense of pride. “I won’t,” you promised, your voice quieter than usual.

From that moment on, that puck became one of your most prized possessions. It wasn’t just a piece of equipment—it was a token, a symbol of the way Will saw you, the way he treated you. It was his way of telling you that you mattered to him, in a way that words couldn’t fully explain. You kept it in your nightstand for years, tucked away under a pile of old journals and scraps of paper. And every time you opened that drawer, you’d run your fingers over the puck, remembering that day, that moment, and the unspoken promise that came with it: You are important. You belong here.

Two years later, when you were twelve, Will handed you something else.

It was a friendship bracelet, woven together with blue and white threads. It wasn’t just any bracelet, though—it was the colors of his favorite hockey team, the Toronto Maple Leafs. Even at twelve, he had big dreams. He swore, without hesitation, that one day he’d play for them, that one day the Leafs would be his team.

“I made it for you,” Will said, his voice gruff but with a playful edge as he shoved the bracelet into your hand.

You stared at it, taken aback. Will had never been the type to give out handmade things, much less something so personal. But the moment you saw the familiar blue-and-white pattern, it made perfect sense. This was his way of telling you that even if you never played on the same team, even if you never made it to the ice in the same uniform, you were still a part of his world. He wanted you to have this, something that tied the two of you together. Something that bound you to his dreams.

“You sure you want me wearing this?” you asked with a grin, trying to mask the knot forming in your chest. “You know, it’s kind of like a team thing. Maybe I’ll jinx you or something.”

Will snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Please. If anyone’s gonna jinx me, it’s not you. Besides, it’s not like you’re gonna get rid of it. You know you’ll wear it every day.”

He was right, of course. The bracelet became a part of you, a constant presence on your wrist as you went about your daily life. Even when it started to fray around the edges, when the blue and white threads began to look worn and faded from constant wear, you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off. It was more than just a piece of thread—it was a reminder. A reminder of Will’s promise, his belief in his own future, and the way he had always included you in his dreams.

But not everyone understood that. Not everyone saw what Will saw, what you saw.

One day at school, when you were walking together down the hallway, a kid—one of those kids who always seemed to have something to say—decided to make a comment. He snickered, tossing his backpack over his shoulder as he walked past, his eyes flicking between you and Will.

“Why don’t you play on a real team?” he sneered, his voice loud enough for others to hear. “You don’t even play. Just hanging out with him like it’s some game.”

For a moment, you froze, your gut twisting. You had never been the type to stand out, to let people make you feel small. But this—this stung in a way you hadn’t expected. The kid’s words felt like an attack, like a judgment on the way you and Will had always spent time together. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before. Sure, you didn’t play for a real team. But that didn’t matter. Hockey wasn’t just a sport to you. It was your thing. Yours and Will’s.

You tried to brush it off, pulling your shoulders back and pretending the words didn’t hit their mark. But Will didn’t let it slide.

You saw the way his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face the kid. There was a fire in his gaze that sent a small chill down your spine, but it wasn’t a bad kind of chill—it was the kind that made you feel like nothing could touch you when Will was around.

“She doesn’t have to play on a real team,” Will said, his voice low and steady. His tone was cold, but there was a warmth there too—a fierce, protective edge. “She’s still better than you. And she’s out here, playing with me, every day. So what does that make you?”

The kid blinked, taken aback, his sneer faltering as Will’s words sank in. He didn’t say anything else, just muttered something under his breath before walking off.

But you didn’t care about the kid anymore. You cared about Will.

You could feel your heart swell in your chest as you met his eyes. The loyalty in him was so strong, so unwavering, that it was impossible to ignore. And you couldn’t help the way it made you feel—like you belonged to him, and he to you.

Even when you argued, even when you drove each other crazy, there was never any doubt about it.

You were his. And he was yours.

It was more than just friendship. It was something deeper, something that didn’t need words to be understood. It was a connection that didn’t have a name, not really—but it didn’t need one. You had always been there for each other, and you always would be. No matter what.

Because that was just the way it had always been.

And, somehow, it always would be.

By the time you were fifteen, the changes in Will weren’t just noticeable—they were impossible to ignore. At first, you couldn’t quite pinpoint when it started. The shift in him was so gradual, so subtle, that you might have convinced yourself it was always there. But one day, it hit you—everything about Will was different.

You tried to hold onto the old version of him, the one who was still your best friend, the one who had grown up beside you. He was still the boy who biked to your house every morning, the one who never missed a birthday or a summer adventure. Will was still the same guy who had spent hours building snow forts with you, who had stayed up late telling ghost stories around a campfire, the boy who once stole the last slice of pizza only to end up stealing your heart in a way you never fully realized.

But that boy—your boy—was slipping away, bit by bit, and no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you couldn’t.

Will was changing, and you couldn’t stop watching it happen.

The most obvious change, of course, was in the way he looked. You couldn’t deny that Will had grown taller over the summer. One minute, you were teasing him for being shorter than you, and the next, he was towering over you, with a frame that was leaner, more athletic, as though he had filled out with strength and purpose. You had always known he was athletic—had known that one day he might play for a real team—but seeing it all come together in a way that made him look more like a man than the boy you had always known was startling. The softness of his face had begun to harden, his cheeks no longer round but sharp, his jawline taking shape. There was something undeniably handsome about him now, but the thought of it made something in your chest tighten.

And then there were his eyes. Those gorgeous, familiar eyes—eyes that had always been the easiest to read, eyes that once reflected the way he felt about you without question. But now? Now they seemed to linger longer than they should, following you with an intensity that made you feel exposed, like he could see every unspoken thought in your head. There was a depth to them now, something in his gaze that made your stomach flip, something that made it impossible to pretend like everything between you was the same.

It wasn’t just his appearance that was changing. Will had become more aware of the way people—girls, especially—were starting to look at him. You couldn’t help but notice the way they noticed him. At first, it was subtle. Just a glance here and there when he walked through the hallways at school, a soft giggle when he said something funny in class. But it didn’t take long for it to grow more obvious. At lunch, girls would sneak glances at him from across the room. You’d catch them whispering, eyes darting away quickly when they realized you had seen.

It was almost like a domino effect. One girl would mention something, and before you knew it, the whole school was talking about him. “Did you see Will in gym today?” one girl would whisper. “I heard he’s totally into Sarah.” You’d hear the same thing in passing, when you tried to get to class, when you went to your locker—everywhere you went, you’d hear his name, spoken with a level of admiration that you couldn’t ignore. Will was becoming something more than just the guy who lived down the street, more than just the boy you spent your entire childhood with.

And then it happened—something so small, so subtle, that you almost missed it, but it cut deeper than anything you could have imagined.

You were standing in the hallway between classes, chatting with a few friends, when you saw him. Will was standing by his locker, leaning against it with his usual relaxed posture. His back was slightly turned, but you saw her. A girl you didn’t recognize—one of the newer students who had transferred that year—was standing a little too close to him. She was laughing, and Will, who usually didn’t entertain the girls who tried to flirt with him, was actually laughing back. And then, just like that, she reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of his face, lingering a little longer than necessary, her fingers grazing the side of his cheek.

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

Your stomach twisted, a tight knot of jealousy building in the pit of your stomach. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal—he was still your Will, your best friend. He was just being nice, just joking around, right? But the feeling that spiraled inside you told a different story. The way his smile was a little too soft, the way his gaze lingered on her just a little too long, made something inside you sting.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if girls liked him now. He was still your Will. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t true. Something was changing, and it wasn’t just the way he looked. It was the way he acted, the way he seemed to be pulling away from you without even realizing it.

The girls weren’t the only thing that had changed, though. Will had started noticing them. You could tell by the way he carried himself now, more confident, more aware of his effect on people. He no longer had to sit on the edge of your bed after a fight with his mom, making you laugh to lift your mood. He no longer called you at midnight just to talk, just to pass the time, just to hear your voice. He was always busy with something else—another game, another practice, another girl. It wasn’t that he was pushing you away—it was just that you were starting to realize, slowly but surely, that he wasn’t just your best friend anymore.

You tried to hang onto the old versions of things, the versions where Will would drag you out to the rink on those cold winter nights, and the two of you would skate until the stars above the icy lake disappeared, and the sky was light with the first hints of dawn. You tried to hold on to the memories of the two of you sitting on the porch steps, swapping stories of your days, or sneaking into the kitchen to raid his fridge while pretending his mom wouldn’t catch you.

But Will was slipping through your fingers, and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop him from becoming someone new, someone who didn’t need you in the same way anymore. The more he changed, the more you realized that you were the one who was holding on.

And the worst part? You had no idea what to do with that feeling.

One Friday night, after a huge game, the house was alive with energy. The party had spilled out onto the porch, with laughter and music vibrating through the walls, the air thick with the smell of cheap beer and fast food. Red solo cups were scattered across every surface, along with half-empty bottles and a haze of smoke that hung in the corners. You could barely hear your own thoughts over the deafening music, the bass thumping in time with the pounding of your heart as you stepped through the door.

It was one of those nights—the kind that only came around once a season. The big end-of-year party, where everyone, no matter what their social status, came to celebrate the victory or drown their sorrows after a tough loss. It didn’t matter who you were or what clique you belonged to. This was the night where everyone came together, and no one really noticed if you didn’t belong anywhere at all.

You found yourself standing in the corner of the living room, a cup of something far too sweet and syrupy in your hand, surrounded by the noise and the chaos. Your friends were laughing nearby, chatting about whatever drama was going on at school, but your mind wasn’t really with them. It was lost somewhere in the sea of voices and flashing lights, and more than anything, it was focused on him.

Will.

Of course, he was everywhere. It was his night. The hockey team had just won their final game, and it was like the whole town was celebrating with them. He was surrounded by a group of guys, all laughing and joking, their voices loud and boisterous. Will’s laughter rose above the others, that familiar sound that you’d always associated with home—like the sound of snow crunching underfoot on a cold winter morning, or the taste of something warm when the world outside was frozen.

But tonight, something was different. You couldn’t explain it at first, couldn’t figure out why your stomach felt twisted in knots every time you saw him, but you couldn’t shake it.

And then, in a flash, you saw it.

You had been talking to a friend near the punch bowl, trying to ignore the heavy, suffocating weight of your own thoughts. You didn’t want to be one of those people who stood off to the side, avoiding the fun, but that was exactly how you felt. Every laugh, every joke, every passing glance seemed to make the weight in your chest grow heavier.

And then you saw him.

Will was standing in the middle of the room, talking to a girl. You didn’t know her name, but she was pretty, with hair that cascaded down her back in soft waves and a smile that seemed to light up the room. She was laughing at something he’d said, and before you could even process it, he leaned in, his hand brushing the side of her arm. In one smooth motion, they were kissing.

It wasn’t a long kiss. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t like something out of a movie. It was a brief, casual thing—just a quick, light peck on the lips after some teasing comment that had them both laughing. But in that moment, it felt like the world had stopped. The music, the chatter, the whole party—it all faded away.

Your heart skipped a beat. Your breath caught in your throat.

Everything inside you froze.

You didn’t even realize you were staring until you felt the heat rise to your neck, and then your face, like your whole body was suddenly on fire. You tried to turn away, tried to look anywhere else, but your eyes kept drifting back to them. Will, his lips still curved in that easy smile, his arm casually draped around her shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The girl’s hand was resting on his chest, and it looked so effortless, so right, that it made your stomach lurch.

You didn’t know why it felt like you’d been punched in the chest, but it did. Your fingers tightened around your cup, the cold plastic biting into your hand as you tried to ground yourself, to make yourself breathe. It wasn’t anything big. It wasn’t even a kiss that meant anything—at least, that’s what you told yourself. It was just Will, being Will, doing what he always did.

But it wasn’t just the kiss.

It was what it represented. The subtle, inevitable truth that had been hanging in the back of your mind for months, but that you had been too afraid to face.

Will wasn’t just your Will anymore. He wasn’t the boy you had spent every winter skating on backyard rinks with. He wasn’t the one you’d stayed up with late into the night, making up stories and sneaking out for midnight snacks. He wasn’t the same guy who used to laugh at your dumb jokes and crash on your couch after a long day. That part of him, the part that had always belonged to you and only you, was slipping away, slowly but surely.

And now, you were just… there. A shadow in the background, standing on the sidelines, as the boy you had always loved started looking elsewhere.

You swallowed hard, trying to push the bitter taste that had suddenly filled your mouth. But it didn’t go away. The jealousy you had felt in passing—when girls would whisper about him or throw flirtatious glances his way—had been nothing compared to this. Watching him kiss someone else, even so briefly, felt like a gut punch.

You weren’t ready for it. You weren’t ready for the truth that your place in his life was changing, that the way he saw you wasn’t the same anymore. That you might not be the one he would choose.

Still, you tried to act like it didn’t matter. After all, you and Will had been through so much together—years of memories that no girl could take away, no kiss could undo. You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t change anything, that this was just one fleeting moment, something trivial.

But as the night stretched on, you couldn’t shake it. Will spent the rest of the evening surrounded by his friends, laughing louder, joking with the girls who fawned over him, bouncing from one corner of the house to another like he belonged in every space. It was like he was at the center of it all, while you stood off to the side, nursing your drink, trying to pretend you didn’t feel like your whole world was quietly unraveling around you.

The music blared on, the conversation never slowed, but you were alone in the crowd.

You didn’t know how to feel. You didn’t know what to do with all the emotions that had suddenly bubbled to the surface.

But you knew one thing.

You weren’t ready to let him go. Not yet.

But nothing had truly changed.

Will still came over after his games, sweaty and exhausted, his jersey clinging to his chest as he collapsed onto the couch. He still stole the remote from you and made you watch whatever ridiculous action movie he was obsessed with at the time, even if you hated it.

You still went on those late-night skates, just the two of you. You’d meet in the dead of night, when everyone else was asleep, and lace up your skates in the cold darkness. The world felt empty and small, the only light coming from the streetlamps casting long shadows across the frozen rink in his backyard. As you skated circles around each other, the air sharp against your skin, the sound of your blades cutting into the ice was the only thing that filled the silence. And in those moments, when it was just the two of you, it was easy to forget that anything had changed at all.

But you couldn’t ignore the quiet shift. The growing distance that had started to bloom between the two of you. Maybe it was in the way he’d look at his phone more often now, scrolling through texts from his teammates, or how the quiet nights you used to spend together were now filled with more people. Maybe it was the way his laugh seemed to carry a little further when he was around his friends—friends who didn’t know you the way he did. The way he’d sometimes get that far-off look in his eyes, like he was thinking about someone—or something—that wasn’t you.

And then there was the truck.

It was one of those quiet, rare moments when Will and you found yourself alone. You’d been driving around the small town after a game, just the two of you in his dad’s truck (one that you had snuck out into), the soft hum of the engine the only sound as the night stretched out before you. The trees lining the roads were bare, their limbs stretching toward the sky like skeletal hands, and the air smelled crisp, clean, piney—a scent you would always associate with him, even when you were older.

You’d reached the lake by the edge of town, the usual place where you’d stop to talk about whatever came to your minds. Will parked the truck at your favorite spot, where the water stretched out in front of you, calm and dark under the blanket of the stars.

He killed the engine, and the silence between you two felt heavier than usual. You didn’t know why, but for some reason, tonight, everything felt more like a question than an answer.

“Do you think we’ll always be like this?” you asked, your voice quiet, almost swallowed by the night.

Will turned to look at you, his brow furrowing slightly, as though he hadn’t even considered it before. It wasn’t the usual playful grin he wore—it was something else. Something thoughtful. He paused for a moment, letting the question hang in the air like smoke, before finally nodding, his voice steady.

“Like what?”

“You know… us.”

It wasn’t a question you’d ever thought to ask before, not in those exact words. But now that it was out there, you couldn’t stop wondering. You couldn’t stop questioning whether this thing between you two—this unspoken, unsaid bond—would still exist in a few years. Would it always be us? Or would you end up like everyone else in town—watching from the sidelines, as Will moved on to something bigger, something different?

His gaze softened, and for the briefest moment, the world seemed to slow. He looked at you like he was weighing something, like he was searching for the right words, but then he just shook his head, as if the answer had been right there all along.

“Yeah,” he said with a half-smile, almost as if he were trying to convince himself more than you. “You and me, right?”

And for just a moment, just long enough for you to let your heart settle in your chest, you let yourself believe it. That it would always be you and Will, like it had always been. That no matter how much things changed around you, some things—some people—never would.

But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if the way you felt about him was changing too, and if maybe—just maybe—things would never be quite the same again.

At seventeen, everything had shifted again, and you could feel it in the way things no longer felt as simple or effortless as they once did. Will had a girlfriend now, and that fact alone made the air around you seem thicker, heavier. It was hard to ignore, impossible to pretend it didn’t matter, even though you told yourself a thousand times it shouldn’t bother you. But it did. It really, truly did.

Her name was Emma, and she was everything you weren’t. She was exactly the kind of girl who seemed to fit seamlessly into Will’s life, like the final puzzle piece clicking into place. She was the kind of girl who looked like she belonged in a hockey locker room as easily as she belonged at a school dance. Emma had that effortless charm, that natural grace that you could never quite pull off. She could wear one of Will’s hockey hoodies—too big for her frame—with such ease that it almost looked like it was made for her, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders in soft, tousled waves that framed her face like she belonged in some magazine spread. She wasn’t just in his world—she was the kind of girl who blended into it, who fit so well that it was like she had been handpicked for him. And, in a way, you started to wonder if that was true.

You had never been the girl in the hoodie. You’d never been the one waving at Will from the bleachers with your eyes glowing, cheering him on like it was the most natural thing in the world. You were the girl who stood in the background, the one who shared quiet moments with him in the shadows, away from the spotlight. And the more you saw Emma standing beside him, smiling at him with a kind of ease you could never replicate, the more you realized that she was everything you weren’t and, maybe, everything Will wanted.

At first, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. After all, you had always known Will liked girls—he had kissed a few at parties, flirted with others at school—but it wasn’t like it ever interfered with your bond. You were still you and Will, right? You were the ones who had spent hours on the rink together, the ones who had been inseparable for years. Nothing had ever been able to shake that, right?

But now, things were different. And as much as you tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that it was just a phase, that Emma was just another girl in the long string of faces Will had been with, you couldn’t help but feel the growing distance between you.

Will started pulling away, bit by bit. It wasn’t obvious at first—just small things that were easy to ignore. It was the way his texts became less frequent, how the responses you used to get immediately now took longer. At first, you told yourself he was just busy—he was juggling games and school, his life becoming more complicated. You didn’t want to be the person who complained about something so trivial. But then there was the subtle shift when he didn’t come over as often, didn’t just drop by after practice to grab a drink or hang out on the couch like he always had. Those small moments—the ones you thought were unbreakable—started to fade, as if someone had quietly drawn a line between you, a line that you didn’t even notice until it had already split the space between you.

It wasn’t just the way he started showing up less, though. It was in the way he acted when he was there. He seemed distracted, less present, like a part of him was always somewhere else. He didn’t drag you out for late-night skates anymore, those quiet moments where it was just the two of you, skating until your legs felt like they’d give out, laughing at nothing and everything. You missed those times so much that the thought of it almost made your chest hurt. The easy conversations you used to have seemed to disappear with the last snowstorm, leaving nothing but awkward silences in their wake. When he came over, it was like you were strangers sharing the same space, both too scared to acknowledge how much things had changed.

But it wasn’t just Will pulling away. You were changing, too.

There were moments when you felt like you didn’t know how to be you around him anymore. You could see how effortlessly he blended into Emma’s world, how at ease they were together, and it made you question everything. You used to be his everything—the girl who knew every little thing about him, the one who understood his every gesture, every laugh. But now? Now, you felt like an outsider in your own friendship, as though you were watching someone else take your place. You didn’t know how to fix it, how to bridge the growing gap between the two of you, and you didn’t even know if it was possible to. There was a part of you that wondered if you should just walk away, stop pretending like things were the same, stop holding onto something that had already slipped through your fingers.

But you couldn’t let go—not yet. You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words you were too afraid to even whisper. You were scared of what that would mean. Would it mean losing him for good? Would it mean he would never be the Will you used to know?

You didn’t have the answers. All you had was the growing weight in your chest every time you saw him laugh with Emma, every time you saw them together, and the aching feeling that no matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried, nothing would ever be the same again.

One cold evening after a game, you found yourself outside the rink, waiting for him like you had so many times before. The air was crisp, biting, the kind of cold that made your breath visible in the darkness. There was a sharpness to it, the smell of frozen earth and icy metal mixing with the faintest trace of sweat from the locker rooms still lingering in the air. The rink was quiet now, the roar of the crowd from the game fading into the background as you stood alone, arms crossed over your chest for warmth. The tip of your nose was red from the chill, your breath clouding in the air as you watched the other players pack up and head to their cars, the scrape of skate blades against concrete echoing in the distance.

Everything felt still and frozen in time, yet somehow, everything around you seemed to move in fast forward. You could hear the murmur of voices in the parking lot, the sound of keys clinking, the doors of cars slamming shut. But you were focused only on him—on Will.

There he was, standing by his truck, talking quietly with Emma. You didn’t have to look closely to see how comfortable they were together. She was standing close to him, laughing softly at something he’d said, her hand resting lightly on his arm as if it belonged there, as if she had always been there. Will was smiling at her in that way you hadn’t seen him smile at you in months, his eyes crinkling in a way that made you feel suddenly out of place. She was with him in a way you never could be—no awkwardness, no history, no years of friendship between you to complicate things. She fit in his world, while you felt more like a stranger trying to fit into something that no longer made sense.

Your stomach twisted painfully as you stood there watching them. It was like everything you had been denying for so long came rushing to the surface—the way Emma had slipped so easily into his life, the way he looked at her in a way he had stopped looking at you. You could feel a lump forming in your throat, a tightness in your chest, but you didn’t move. You just stood there, frozen, watching as they shared a quiet moment that seemed to last forever, the world moving faster around you, but you stood still in place.

Finally, Will turned his head and saw you standing there, still and quiet in the growing dark. He frowned, the familiar crease between his brows appearing like it always did when he sensed something was wrong. You hadn’t said anything yet. You hadn’t let the frustration, the confusion, the hurt that had been building inside you spill out. But you didn’t need to say anything. He already knew. He always did.

“You’re avoiding me,” you said, your voice sharper than you meant it to be, carrying in the quiet night air.

Will blinked, taken aback by your directness. He ran a hand through his damp hair, clearly caught off guard. “What? No, I’m not,” he said, his voice confused, like he couldn’t understand where this was coming from.

“You missed our skate this morning,” you pointed out, each word slipping from your mouth with more force than you intended. Your arms tightened around yourself in an effort to hold back the wave of frustration that threatened to crash over you. It wasn’t just about the skate. It was everything—the way things had changed so slowly that you barely noticed until it was already too late.

Will’s eyes flickered over to Emma, who was talking to someone else now, probably one of her friends from the team. Then his gaze shifted back to you. “I had plans,” he said, his tone distant, almost dismissive, like it was no big deal.

“Right,” you muttered, your voice bitter. The words tasted sour in your mouth as you forced them out. “Emma,” you added, making it clear, like it should explain everything.

You watched Will’s jaw tense at the mention of her name. His eyes narrowed slightly, and for the first time in the conversation, you saw a flash of irritation cross his face. It wasn’t like the easy, carefree Will you had known all your life. No, this was someone different, someone who was starting to push back. His voice came out low, defensive, “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” You couldn’t hold it back anymore. The words escaped before you could stop them, slipping out of your mouth in an angry, almost disbelieving laugh. “You’ve changed, Will.”

His eyes widened, as if he hadn’t heard you right. He looked at you like you were speaking a language he didn’t understand, his gaze flickering from your face to the truck, then back to you, like he was trying to piece together what you meant. For a moment, his expression softened, the defensiveness replaced by something else—guilt, maybe, or confusion. But it didn’t last long. He let out a sharp breath, his hand running through his hair again, the familiar tension returning to his body.

“I didn’t change,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

There it was—the wall. You felt it hit you, the invisible barrier that had been slowly growing between you both for months. You wanted him to understand, wanted him to see what was happening, but it was clear that he didn’t get it. Or worse, maybe he didn’t want to. The idea that he didn’t even notice the distance between you, the way he had stopped being there for you the way he used to, made the knot in your chest tighten.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t hold his gaze as the words spilled out of you. “I’ve been here the whole time, Will. And you’re slipping away from me. You’re slipping away, and I can’t stop it.”

There was a long pause, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. Will didn’t say anything at first. His eyes dropped to the ground, like he was processing what you’d said. You wanted him to say something—anything. You wanted him to reach out, to tell you it wasn’t true, to fix everything with a few words, but instead, there was just silence. The cold air wrapped around you like a physical weight, and you could feel the finality of it—the way the space between you had stretched too far to ever go back.

He exhaled sharply, glancing away, his gaze drifting toward the distant horizon like he was done with the conversation. Done with you.

You wanted to scream at him, to tell him everything that had been building inside of you for months—the way it hurt to see him with someone else, the way it felt like he was slipping through your fingers, the way your heart ached with every moment he wasn’t there for you. But you didn’t. You stood there in the cold, a lump in your throat, fighting back tears, fighting to keep your composure.

After what felt like an eternity, Will finally shrugged, his posture stiff as he gave you a tight, almost apologetic smile. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t enough.

“I’m not changing. You’re overthinking this,” he said, like the whole thing could be solved with a few words. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

It wasn’t just overthinking. It was the reality of everything that had been slipping through your fingers, and the sharp ache in your chest that made it impossible to ignore.

You swallowed, trying to force down the lump in your throat. He didn’t understand. Maybe he couldn’t. Or maybe he didn’t want to.

You nodded, your lips pressed tightly together, keeping everything you felt locked inside. There was nothing left to say.

And with that, you turned and walked away, the sound of your boots crunching in the snow the only thing you could hear, the emptiness in your chest growing with every step.

The months that followed were a blur of fleeting faces and empty promises. Emma, Sophie, Maddie—each name slipping into Will’s life like they had always belonged there, only to leave again, as if they had never truly mattered. It was a constant cycle of faces and names that you barely had time to learn before they were replaced by someone new. And yet, somehow, Will threw himself into each relationship like it was the answer to all the questions you had left unspoken between the two of you. He smiled, he laughed, and in those moments, he looked like he was truly happy. But you could see through it. You could always see through it. The cracks were there, if you looked closely enough. The way his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore, the way his laugh sometimes sounded hollow, like he was trying to convince himself of something that wasn’t true. You could see that he was still searching for something, but it wasn’t in the girls who came and went.

He never let anyone in the way he had let you in. There was something between you—something deep, something real—that no one could replicate. It had been easy, once, to believe that no one could ever take your place. That your bond was unbreakable. But now, with each new girl, with each fleeting relationship, it was becoming clearer: You were being replaced, whether you liked it or not. And still, no matter how many times he started over with someone new, he never looked at you—not the way you wanted him to.

It was like living in a perpetual loop of half-answers and unasked questions. The same faces, the same routines, the same emptiness. It wore you down. At first, it had been a sharp sting, a pain that you couldn’t ignore. Every time you saw him holding someone else’s hand, every time he laughed with someone new, it felt like a part of you was being carved away. But eventually, that pain dulled, bit by bit. It became less sharp and more like a dull throb that you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter. That you were fine, that you were okay with him moving on, with him finding someone else, because that was what you were supposed to do. You were supposed to be happy for him. After all, he was your best friend, and you were supposed to want him to be happy.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You weren’t just his best friend anymore. And as much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, the truth was undeniable: you wanted more. You wanted him to look at you like he used to, to see you like he had when everything had been simple and uncomplicated. But he didn’t. Not anymore. And the worst part was that, deep down, you could see the way your place in his life was slipping further and further away. You were fading into the background, becoming something that he once cared about but no longer had time for. A footnote in a story that was no longer yours to tell. And you didn’t know how to rewrite it. You didn’t know how to fight for something that was already slipping through your fingers.

The late-night skates—the ones that used to feel like a tradition, like something just for the two of you—were now few and far between. The easy banter that used to flow so effortlessly between you both had been replaced by uncomfortable silences, the kind that lingered long after the conversation had ended. The secrets shared in the dark, whispered between the two of you in the quiet hours of the night, had turned into distant memories, fading with each passing season, each new girl who came and went. Those moments, once so vibrant and real, now felt like fragments of a dream—a dream that you couldn’t quite hold onto, no matter how hard you tried.

And still, somehow, there was something in the air between you and him that kept you tethered to him, even though you knew it was all slipping away. It was as if an invisible thread still connected you, pulling you back in every time you tried to move on. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was the faint, stubborn belief that everything could return to the way it had been. Or maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of something that had always been yours, something that had been a constant in your life for so long. You tried. God, how you tried to let go. You tried to move on, to stop caring, to tell yourself that you could be happy without him in your life the way he had been. You forced yourself to let go of the idea that he would ever look at you the way you wanted him to. You buried the feelings deep, locked them away, and told yourself that you could live without them.

But it was like you were living in a dream—a dream where you weren’t supposed to have a happy ending. You were stuck in a story that didn’t make sense anymore, one where you could see the ending coming but didn’t know how to stop it, where you couldn’t bring yourself to wake up. And so you kept going through the motions, pretending that everything was fine, pretending that you were okay with the way things were, even though your heart was breaking with every girl he brought into his life. Even though you were silently watching yourself become a shadow in the background of his world.

The truth was, you didn’t know how to stop caring. You didn’t know how to stop waiting for him to see you, to realize that you had always been right there. That you could have been everything he was searching for. But he never did. And that was what hurt the most. It wasn’t that he had moved on, it wasn’t that he had found someone else—it was that you weren’t even in the running anymore. You were a part of his past, something that had been left behind, and you didn’t know how to be anything else.

And yet, the thread that tied you to him still pulled you in. Every time you saw him with someone else, every time you caught a glimpse of the way he smiled with another girl, it was like a dagger to your chest. But you couldn’t let go. Not yet. Even though you knew, deep down, that the longer you held on, the more it would hurt. The more you would fade into the background, lost in the shadow of a love he would never return.

The cycle continued, and you couldn’t find a way out.

Then, one night, after yet another one of his breakups, the weight of it all settled on you like a storm cloud you couldn’t outrun. You had grown so accustomed to this routine—the girls, the breakups, the emptiness—but tonight, it felt different. Tonight, you could feel the ache in your chest, the heaviness of it, the reality of everything you had been avoiding for so long. Will wasn’t just distant anymore. He was somewhere else entirely.

It was well past midnight when you found yourself sitting beside him again, just the two of you in his truck. The night was colder than usual, the chill seeping in through the cracked windows, sending a shiver down your spine. The world outside was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the distant flicker of a diner sign, casting an eerie glow over the empty streets. The hum of the truck’s engine was the only sound, a steady, rhythmic thrum that seemed to match the pulse of your own heart. Time slowed down in those moments, but everything around you remained still, frozen in a space that felt both too familiar and impossibly foreign.

You had sat in silence for what felt like hours, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down on you. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you had been holding back, but for once, you didn’t know how to begin. The easy silence that had once defined your time together was gone. Tonight, there was nothing easy about it. There was only the quiet hum of the truck and the thick, suffocating space between you.

It was you who broke the silence, your voice soft and hesitant in the cold, empty air. “You ever think maybe you’re looking in the wrong places?”

The words left your mouth before you had time to fully understand what you were saying. You hadn’t even planned on asking him that—maybe it was just the frustration of watching him chase something he could never find in anyone else. Or maybe it was just your heart, speaking the words you’d been keeping buried for so long. But even as the words left your lips, you knew they were about more than just his failed relationships. You were asking him about you, about the space that had grown between you, about all the things neither of you had dared to say.

Will didn’t answer right away. His gaze remained fixed on the windshield, his fingers drumming absently on the steering wheel. He was somewhere far away, his mind tangled in something you couldn’t reach. You could feel the distance between you growing, an invisible barrier that neither of you seemed capable of crossing. But then, after what felt like an eternity, he murmured, “Maybe.”

The word hung in the air, brief and unconvincing. It wasn’t the answer you had hoped for, but you weren’t sure why you had expected anything different. Will had always been distant in his own way, closed off even when he didn’t mean to be. He had always kept a part of himself hidden, like a secret he was too afraid to share. But tonight, something felt different. Tonight, there was a tension in the air, something heavy that had been building for years and was now finally coming to a head.

You swallowed, the words catching in your throat. You had been avoiding the question for so long, but tonight, you couldn’t stop yourself anymore. “What are you looking for?” you asked, your voice small, almost trembling.

The silence stretched again, longer this time, as if Will was still searching for an answer he didn’t know how to give. He let out a sigh, glancing briefly at you before turning his attention back to the dark road ahead. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, the words almost swallowed by the hum of the engine. “Something that feels like… home.”

Home.

The word hit you like a punch to the gut. It was simple, yet so layered with meaning. Home was everything you had once been together—the late-night skates, the shared secrets, the quiet companionship. It was a place of safety, of belonging. And now, hearing him say it, you knew he wasn’t talking about you. You weren’t his home anymore, not in the way you had been. He was searching for something he thought he could find elsewhere.

And yet, even as the weight of that realization settled in, a small part of you couldn’t let go. “Maybe you already found it,” you whispered, the words coming out softer than you intended, as if saying them out loud would make them too real. You didn’t even realize how much of yourself was wrapped up in those words—how much of you had always been his home. How much you had always wanted to be.

Will’s hand tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His gaze flickered to you, his expression unreadable, but then his eyes drifted back to the road. His lips pressed together in a tight line, as if he were holding back something he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“Maybe I have,” he said finally, his voice low, almost reluctant. And in those three words, everything that had been left unsaid between the two of you hung heavy in the air. He knew. You knew. But neither of you were brave enough to say it.

It was there, in the silence that followed. The thing you had both been avoiding for so long—the thing that had stood between you, unspoken, for years. He had already found it. And it was you. But the moment slipped away, unacknowledged. The thread that had once tied you together remained, but the words were never spoken. The space between you remained, just as it had always been. And you weren’t brave enough to make him say it.

The silence in the truck grew thick, suffocating, as the unspoken things hovered around you like a heavy fog. You had both let too much go unsaid, let too many years slip by in the noise and distractions of everything else. You were both stuck, paralyzed by the fear of what saying it might mean, of what the truth would do to the fragile connection you still shared.

For a moment, it felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the words were caught in your chest, too big and too painful to release. You had spent so many years hoping, wishing for him to see you, to choose you, and now, in this moment, you realized something: you weren’t the one he was looking for anymore.

The cold crept in, curling around you both as the night stretched on, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say another word. Neither of you did.

And in that silence, you finally understood. He wasn’t ready to face it. He wasn’t ready to see what was right in front of him, what you had always been. And you weren’t brave enough to make him.

So, you sat there, together but apart, both too afraid to take that final step toward something that might break everything you thought you knew. And all that was left in the stillness was the hum of the engine and the weight of everything left unsaid.

The cold air cut through you as you glided across the ice, the chill a sharp contrast to the warmth you had carried with you all day. You leaned into the rhythm of it—the scrape of your skates against the smooth, solid surface, the almost hypnotic glide of the blades. The pond in the back yard had always been your place, the one you’d come to when you needed to escape, when the world felt too loud or too heavy. Here, it had always been just you, the ice, and the cool stillness of the night. It was the only time you could breathe, the only time the chaos of life faded into the background, replaced by the quiet hum of your own thoughts and the freedom that skating had always given you.

The ice was perfect tonight. Smooth and crisp, a perfect reflection of the moon overhead. You hadn’t been back here in weeks, months even. Life had moved on, pulling you in different directions—other responsibilities, other distractions. But tonight, as the chill of the air sank deep into your bones, it was as if something had drawn you back. It was the pull of memories—memories that always seemed to be tied to this place, to the pond, to him.

Your breath came in puffs, mingling with the air, rising in the cold night, before disappearing into the vast expanse above you. The world around you was quiet, as if even the trees along the edge of the pond had stopped moving. The sky stretched out above you, dark and expansive, with just a thin sliver of a moon casting pale silver light over everything. It was beautiful in its stillness. The ice was dark underfoot, marked only by the faintest streaks of light, guiding you along its endless surface. For a brief moment, you felt like time had slowed, like everything was suspended in the silence of the night. And in this frozen moment, you allowed yourself to just be—just to skate, to feel the wind rushing against your face, to forget everything else that had been pressing down on you for so long.

But then, as you came around the curve of the pond, you saw him.

It was like everything in the world came to a halt. The rhythm of your skates faltered as you slowed, instinctively, despite yourself. Will stood at the edge of the ice, the moonlight casting long shadows across the ground, making him seem distant, almost unreachable. He was framed by the dark, skeletal branches of the trees lining the pond, his figure stark against the icy glow. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his jacket, shoulders hunched slightly against the cold, but he wasn’t moving. He wasn’t skating like he used to, wasn’t calling your name, wasn’t laughing as he tried to race you down the ice the way he had so many times before.

No, this time, he was still. Watching you.

The sight of him, standing there like that, caught you off guard. It wasn’t just that he was here, in this familiar place—it was the way he was there. He wasn’t part of the moment, not part of the fluid motion of the pond, the rhythm of your skating. He was apart from it, separate, as if a gap had grown between you that neither of you had been able to cross for a long time. His gaze was fixed on you, his eyes watching with an intensity that felt different—more knowing, more weighted than before. Something in the way he stood there sent an unexpected chill through you, one that had nothing to do with the freezing air or the icy ground beneath your feet.

There had always been a distance between you two lately. It was more than just physical space—it was the silence that had stretched on for so long, the way things had changed over the months, the years. It was the unsaid things between you, the things neither of you had been brave enough to confront. And now, in the stillness of the night, with the moonlight spilling across the pond and the ice stretching out in front of you like a wide-open horizon, it felt like that distance had grown even more. Like it had solidified into something real and permanent, something you could feel deep in your chest every time you looked at him, and yet couldn’t touch.

But still, he stood there, waiting for something. You didn’t know what. Maybe he was waiting for you to speak, maybe for you to skate toward him, maybe for you to keep pretending everything was fine. You wanted to ask him why he wasn’t moving, why he wasn’t on the ice with you, like he had been all those times before. But instead, you just skated, slowly, cautiously, like you were afraid that something would break if you made too much noise, too much motion.

You couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation—the pull between you, the old ache in your chest that never quite seemed to go away, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. You tried to focus on the cold air again, on the rhythm of your skates, but your mind kept drifting back to him, to the figure standing there, watching, waiting.

You slowed as you approached him, your heart giving an unexpected jolt. You hadn’t expected to see him here tonight. But then again, maybe you should’ve known. This had always been your place—the place where you and Will had spent countless hours skating together, laughing, talking, and being… just being.

When you stopped in front of him, he didn’t immediately speak. He just looked at you, his eyes tracing the curves of your face, like he was trying to find something he’d lost.

The air between you both was thick with unspoken words, the kind that had been left lingering for too long. Will’s gaze was unwavering, intense in a way that made you feel exposed, as if he could see right through the walls you’d built around yourself. He didn’t say anything right away, but the way he was standing there, frozen like a part of the night itself, told you everything you needed to know. This wasn’t just about the pond, or the ice, or even the simple act of being together. It was about everything that had come before it—the shared years, the moments you had both tucked away, the distance that had quietly crept in without either of you acknowledging it.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breath, trying to force the words out, but they felt stuck in your throat, as if they were caught in a knot that had been tightening for months. The question that had sat heavy on your chest, the one you had wanted to ask him for so long, finally slipped out, and you immediately regretted it. “What are you doing here?”

You could hear the way the cold air wrapped itself around the words, how it made them sound small, insignificant. But there was more to it than just that. You weren’t just asking where he was, why he was here on the edge of the ice after everything that had passed between you two. You were asking why, after all this time, he was still here at all. You were asking why you were still here, standing in front of him, when everything had gotten so tangled and messy.

Will shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but he didn’t move closer. He wasn’t standing with the same easy comfort that had once come so naturally between the two of you. This wasn’t the same Will—the one who would have spun you into a laugh, dragged you around the pond as though the world was an endless game. No, now he was distant, locked behind something you couldn’t reach.

He finally spoke, and his voice, rough with the kind of weariness that comes from too many thoughts left unsaid, sent a shiver down your spine. “I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his words a little softer, like they were trying to break through the cold of the night and reach you. “We used to come out here all the time. I guess I just wondered… why we stopped.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and your chest tightened, a dull ache settling in where your heart used to be. It was like hearing the echo of your own guilt, that hollow feeling that had been quietly growing inside you ever since you’d stopped coming here, stopped showing up. The pond had once been yours together, the place where you both went to forget everything else. But somehow, it had become a place of silence. A place of absence.

You looked away, taking in the moonlit stretch of the pond, the same stretch that had once felt like home, like a part of you that belonged only to him and to the two of you. Now, it felt impossibly far away, like something you didn’t know how to reach anymore. “I don’t know. Life, I guess,” you said, and the words tasted empty in your mouth. They felt like an excuse, like a half-hearted answer to something that wasn’t simple enough to explain away.

Will nodded, but the gesture felt heavy, like it meant more than just acknowledgment. His eyes dropped to the ice beneath his boots, and for a long beat, the silence between you thickened again. It was as if neither of you knew what to say next, but you both knew that something had to be said. That something had to break through this endless back-and-forth of silence, of pretending everything was fine, when it had never been. Not really.

“Yeah, life,” Will echoed softly, his voice carrying a note of bitterness that wasn’t there before. “Funny how it pulls you away from the things you thought mattered.”

The weight of his words pressed against you, heavier than the cold that surrounded you both. They hung there in the air between you, suffocating and yet too fragile to touch. It wasn’t just about the pond anymore. It wasn’t even just about skating, or your shared history. It was about everything that had happened after—everything that had shifted, the years that had slipped away, and the space that had grown between the two of you that neither of you had bothered to fill. You wanted to say something to ease the hurt in his voice, to give some kind of response that would make it better, but the words felt inadequate, and the silence stretched on like a chasm you couldn’t cross.

You could feel the old ache rising in your chest, threatening to choke you. That familiar knot of longing, of pain, of knowing that something had been lost but never being able to put it into words. The last few months had felt like you were drifting, trying to stay afloat in a world that felt more and more like a memory. You knew that what Will was saying was more than just about the pond, more than just about why you stopped coming out here. It was about everything that had been unsaid, about the love that had never really gone away, but that neither of you had been brave enough to face.

His gaze flickered toward you then, just for a second, before he looked away again. You couldn’t tell if it was hesitation or if it was simply that he didn’t have the words, but the look on his face made it clear that he, too, was trying to figure out how to say what had been left unspoken for far too long. There was a furrow between his brows, his lips pressed together like he was fighting against something, like he was trying to decide whether to speak or stay silent.

The silence stretched out, thick and charged, as Will stepped forward, closing the gap between you with slow, deliberate movements. His boots creaked on the frozen ground, the sound sharp in the stillness of the night, each step echoing like a beat of your heart, steady but with an undercurrent of tension. The world around you seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of you, the cold air between you both swirling in invisible waves, and the pond beneath your feet, the same one that had held your memories, your secrets. The weight of everything you’d been avoiding pressed in on you from all sides, but for some reason, standing there in the quiet of that frozen world, it felt more real than it ever had before.

“I’ve been an idiot,” Will said, the words coming out in a rush, like he had to force them past the tightness in his chest. His voice sounded rough, strained, as if every syllable was a weight he had carried for far too long. “I’ve been running from this—running from you—for so long, and I’ve always told myself that I was looking for something else, something… better, I guess. But the truth is, I’ve always known. I’ve always known what I was looking for.”

The air seemed to stutter around you, a breath held in time, and everything inside you froze. The words he spoke felt like a door creaking open, revealing the things you’d buried, the things that had always been there, hidden in plain sight. His gaze, dark and heavy with something you couldn’t quite name, was locked on you now, pulling at you, tugging at everything you’d spent months trying to avoid. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but no sound came. The words were lodged in your throat, a lump too big to swallow, too fragile to touch.

Will didn’t move away. He didn’t retreat like he used to, back when things were simpler, back when running felt like the only option. Instead, he took another step forward, his eyes still on yours, his expression so raw, so unguarded that it felt like you were seeing him for the first time in a long time. You felt your pulse race, your heart beating harder now, like it was trying to escape the cage of your chest. There was no way to stop it—not now, not after everything that had been said.

“I’ve been stupid,” Will repeated, the words heavy, full of regret and the weight of years lost. His voice cracked on the last syllable, as if he couldn’t carry the burden anymore. His words wrapped around you like a warm, bitter ache, and something inside you unraveled, something you hadn’t realized was so tightly wound. “I’ve been looking for something that felt right, something that could fill the hole, but the whole time, I’ve been blind. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

The air seemed to thin, as if the world had paused, holding its breath in the face of his confession. You stared at him, speechless, the words hanging between you like fragile glass, too delicate to touch, too powerful to ignore. Everything you had buried deep inside you—every memory, every whispered promise—rose up in that moment, flooding your mind, too much to hold. The hurt. The longing. The hope you had hidden away because it had seemed too painful, too impossible. And now, here it was, all of it spilling into the space between you, raw and undeniable.

Will stepped closer, his movements slow, cautious, like he was afraid you might disappear if he moved too fast. His hand stretched out, tentative, reaching for yours. For a heartbeat, you wondered if you should pull away. If you should hold back, protect yourself from the collision of everything that had been left unsaid. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. The moment was too big, too important, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to run from it. You didn’t want to hide.

His fingers brushed against yours, just a gentle touch, hesitant and searching. But when you didn’t pull away, when you didn’t retreat, his hand slid into yours, warm and firm, and the world seemed to shift again, like something heavy had been lifted.

“You and me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were fragile, like they might shatter if spoken too loudly. The weight of the sentence hung in the cold air, shimmering like ice beneath your feet. “Right?”

The question hit you like a wave, flooding over you, sweeping away the last of the doubts, the last of the confusion. It wasn’t just a question—it was a promise, a revelation, a return to something that had never truly disappeared. His words were everything you had been waiting for, everything you had hoped for, buried under years of missed chances, misunderstandings, and broken silences.

Your heart skipped, then raced, and finally, after all this time, the knot that had been twisted tight in your chest loosened, unraveling like a story that was finally being told the right way. The ice beneath your feet seemed to hum with life, the air around you still and electric, charged with the weight of what had just passed between you.

For a long, eternal second, you just stood there, your hand in his, your heart in your throat, waiting for the world to catch up to the truth. And when you finally spoke, your voice was soft, trembling, but certain, like you were giving life to something that had always been there, something that had never really died.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Right.”

Will’s eyes softened in a way you hadn’t seen in so long—like he was seeing you for the first time again, like everything that had been lost was suddenly found. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something deep and knowing, as if this moment had always been inevitable, as if it had been waiting for you both, just out of reach.

His thumb moved slowly over the back of your hand, tracing a pattern, steady and sure, as though he was grounding himself in the reality of the moment. It was like he was reassuring himself that this wasn’t a dream, that you weren’t a figment of his imagination—this was real. This was happening. He was here. You were here. And this time, you weren’t going anywhere.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You just stood there, hand in hand, as the silence stretched between you, full of unspoken understanding, full of the quiet recognition that this was the beginning of something you both should have embraced long ago. The night around you seemed to hum with a kind of electricity, as though the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for you both to take the next step.

And then, just as the tension became almost unbearable, Will stepped closer. His chest brushed against yours, the warmth of his body mingling with the crisp cold air, and it felt like everything inside you shuddered in response. He hesitated for only a heartbeat, his face hovering just inches from yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, any sign that you might pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The space between you disappeared as if it had never existed. And then, as though the universe itself had given its blessing, Will leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tentative kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your veins. It was a kiss that felt like the culmination of everything that had been building for years—every look, every touch, every moment of longing, of doubt, of waiting for something to change. It was all here, now, in this kiss, gentle and full of promise.

You felt your breath catch as his hand moved to cup your face, his fingers cool against your skin, and you couldn’t help but melt into him, your own hands reaching for the warmth of his jacket, pulling him closer. His lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, as if he was trying to savor the moment, to make sure this was real, that this wasn’t just a dream.

Everything felt alive in that moment—the night around you, the ice beneath your feet, the beating of your heart. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, through the warmth of his body, and it made you realize how long you’d been holding onto something that you were finally letting go of. The past, the doubts, the fear—they all disappeared in the heat of the kiss, leaving only the present, only the undeniable truth that had been waiting for both of you.

As he deepened the kiss, you felt a rush of emotions flood through you—relief, happiness, longing, everything you had kept locked away for so long now flowing freely between you. Will’s lips were soft, urgent now, as if he, too, was realizing how much time had been lost, how much he had been denying, how much he had been running from. His hands moved to your back, pulling you even closer, and you felt the warmth of his embrace spread through you, chasing away every trace of the cold night air.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. The world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, standing there on the ice, kissing like you were the only two people in the universe. The kiss was a promise, a vow—of what had been, of what was, and of what would come next. You knew, in that moment, that this was just the beginning. You had both been lost, but now you had found each other again, in the most beautiful and unexpected way.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, your forehead resting against his, you couldn’t help but smile, your lips still tingling from the intensity of the kiss. Will’s eyes were bright, filled with something you couldn’t quite place—joy, relief, wonder—but there was one thing you knew for sure. He wasn’t going anywhere. Neither of you were.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” you whispered, your voice still soft, but full of everything you had been holding back.

Will smiled, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he looked down at you, his gaze tender. “I know. Me too.”

And then, with a final lingering kiss, you both stood in the moonlight, on the ice, with the silence of the world surrounding you both, it felt like everything had finally clicked into place. The pieces of the puzzle, scattered and jagged for so long, had come together, and you could see it now—what you had both been searching for, what you had both been too afraid to face.

It had always been you. And it had always been him.