#but ive never tried that so i have no advice on it!
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if u don't mind me asking for your clay creatures do u normally use glaze or paint? I'm just starting out with ceramics and I'm wondering if u had any recommendations for either? I always love how ur sculptures turn out :)
the ones that look "painted" are underglaze! I paint it onto dry greenware and then add a clear glaze over top after bisque firing. it's really as close as you can get to a "paint" for ceramic, it can be mixed and blended like paint and has no silica content so it doesn't turn glossy or stick to things in the kiln without another glaze overtop - it also doesn't move at all during firing like most glazes and stays exactly where you put it! my fav underglaze brand is coyote because their underglazes feel very thick and color dense (at least out of the brands I've used), so it requires less coats to get an opaque look (the tricky thing with underglaze is that it looks opaque when you paint it but fires semi-transparent, so it needs layering that you don't see the results of until the glaze firing). the clear glaze I use over my underglazes is amaco's mixing clear (technically part of their celadon line I think). if you do a clear glaze overtop of the underglaze it acts a lot like varnish over a painting, brightening it up and adding shine, but you can also leave the underglaze as-is, it will just be porous, matte, and a little chalky like any unglazed ceramic is. picking a clear glaze to go over underglazes can be tricky, because some of them will react to the colorants in the underglaze and you may get colors that disappear or become streaky under them, or your clear glaze can be too thick and look "milky", but I've had very good luck with the one I'm currently using.
if you want to get into glazing, i really like amaco's premade glazes, not only because they offer a nice selection, but because they have a lot of online resources for beginner ceramists to use - they have videos showing how they glaze pieces to get the correct amount of glaze on, a glaze layering tool that shows how different combinations of glazes (might) look together, and even a facebook group for people to post pictures and ask for advice in. ive been enjoying playing with glaze combinations and also playing with what parts of the sculpture I leave bare to just be the fired claybody.
#ask#also you can use like acrylic paints and stuff on ceramic. just not on anything you want to be food safe I'd imagine.#but ive never tried that so i have no advice on it!#finally there is: making your own glazes. which i am also not qualified to talk on
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Ever since I've drawn me as KG3, I've REALLY wanted to do a You'll Be Back cover and I just wanna know who'd be interested if I tried???
@jadelemonadee @steph-schuyler @theballadoftimburton @icantbelievemyeyes749 @dejaroze +anyone else
#please i need advice#ive never tried singing it in a british accent so thatd be fun#also i dont have a british accent so lol#king george hamilton#king george iii#hamilton#hamilton musical#+itd be on my yt
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Yesterday was the first time I actually had Wynne tell me about the spirit possessing her in origins <//3. I have played this game three times, this is my fourth run and somehow I never triggered it since I never bring her anywhere help. Anyways I love my possessed half dead grandma or whatever
#dragon age#crow rambles#aviae and wynne have an odd dynamic where like#aviae highly respects her advice and enjoys her company#but hates the circles and all they stand for with a passion#generally she tries not to pick fights about it but sometimes they have spats about it#also i think the contrast between wynne and Morrigan as your main mages is SO fascinating#idk what their banter is like but just going off their idea of how the warden should go about grey wardening is fascinating#wynne's whole thing is she thinks grey wardens should sacrifice all to be a hero. that they have a duty to more than just themselves#and that sacrifice is inevitable. while she doesnt know about the archdemon sacrifice needed everything about the way she talks about#wardens hints that she would deem it necessary.#meanwhile morrigan's whole thing is being selfish. she wants the warden to live to fight for what they want#even if she doesnt like the warden her act still stems from selfishness and a desire for the warden to do the same#idk i think theyre neat mirrors and ive never seen anyone talk about it <//3
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Anyway, because I'm considered a bigger creator within the mogai community and I have a responsibility to address things given my bigger audience-
Please remember that Tumblr, especially LGBT Tumblr concerning discourse and intracommunity issues, is a hyper niche, reactive, violent, sensitive community with next to zero basis in reality at large and you should not take any of its opinions as absolute fact. Especially the mogai community's opinions.
A lot of people on mogai Tumblr talk big game with very clearly fake the-whole-bus-clapped stories about the real world concerning acceptance towards mspec monos, Neopronouns and Xenogenders and it's my job as an adult and guiding voice to remind people these experiences may happen but rarely do and you absolutely should not just tell random people you use purr/purrs pronouns or your a bi gaybian or you identify as Chronosian or other things like that because it's really fucking dangerous even in hyper progressive places like new york, cali and Detroit. It can be deadly in many many small towns, including ones in progressive states. Especially dangerous in non accepting states.
I don't say this to burst your bubble or ruin your hopeful world view but many stories of acceptance are fake, even if some are true, most of the community is underage and just cause your teacher may approve of your Soniccharic identity, doesn't mean they won't tell your transphobic parents. It's scary and dangerous out here for trans and gay people rn and I won't be one of the idiots who tell you to run and frolic with your Xenogender pins Infront of increasingly hostile transphobes. I want the younger gen z trans people to survive and I won't lie to you about the reality of the battle we all are staring down concerning project 2025.
Most of the people telling these stories live in progressive states and do not tell you about the failed times or exaggerate the acceptance they supposedly received. I'm telling you from the mouth of someone who grew up in a tiny town in South Ohio with less than 1,000 people, it's still just as dangerous as it was 10 years ago. I still get followed in my home town. I still get stares in my home town. My actual home town, a place I grew up in where people knew me as the gnc dyke for a good while in my last 2 years of school. Do not spread this shit around to everyone. Nex didn't think they would become a victim, Brianna didn't think she would be one of the unlucky ones, plenty of those we've lost did not think they would die in hate crimes. I almost died in two of the hate crimes I've experienced.
You need to be really fucking careful and although I love than Neopronouns and Xenogenders are becoming more accepted by the larger LGBT community, you need to be very very VERY careful about what you do, what you wear and who you tell what because word spreads fast in suburbia and hate spreads faster. You do not want to be wearing a pin the day some white cishet magat decides he's tired of the "pedophiles" and chooses you as the first victim because you were the first he saw. Don't hide who you are but Be. Fucking. Careful.
#clover speaks#im not being a doomist and i wont stand those allegations but some of yall telling these kids and teens the world is totes cool#with no-c paras and therians and bi lesbians have lost the plot and are gonna get these kids killed#especially considering i grew up very rural and none of the advice about presenting trans could possibly apply to me#thats why i say urban and even semi urban lgbt people should not be giving advice to rural lgbt people#nothing you say can apply to us because it is that dangerous#i still get followed as a fucking 23 yr old adult around my town#the one time an lgbt club tried to get established at my highschool the posters were ripped to shreds and there were both#bomb and shooting threats#people talking about setting the school on fire so they could quote pop the faggots one by one as they came running out#im so happy you live in a privileged Massachusetts school district with loving teachers who accept your system identity#please dont encourage the children in alabama and ohio to follow suit because you will get their naive asses killed#urban queer advice dosent apply to rural lgbt people#thats another thing ive seen be said by urban lgbt people that queer is no longer a slur used that way and has been totally reclaimed#great guess half my family and all my achool bullies were really just showing solidarity and i took it the wrong way#say youve never truely felt mortal danger in your small Christian home town cause your ex told pple your trans without saying it#like really#the privilege just jumps right out#that was the stupidest so and so is terf rhetoric to date and yall tme people just scarfed that shit down#ill never drop that veiw because i and many others can attest to it#surprise queer can be a slur an identity and a community all at the same time shocking ik#and if your offended because people are calling your identity a slur i ask whats dyke and faggor now#cause thoss were reclaimed waaaayyyyy before queer was and you still acknowledge their status as slurs#infact i remember seeing maps of slur usage on twitter from 2020 when that discourse was popular and queer#was the bigots favorite slur for us not dyke or faggot#i cant believe the brain rot on this site sometimes#itd be so funny as entertainment if yall werent using it to question and harass lgbt people with ptsd over it for litteral years#ik because i was one of the people harassed :)#i dont forget this shit so easily#sorry for the rant lol
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quick dreamsnso i can find them later
#eating pine branches at grandmas.#lived next door.#renting.#pine branches were really tasty and chewy like ... soupy tootsie rolls?#tried to sneak up on sister#while holding a plastic bag#found. she thought i was soemthing worse. also had been followed by crows for awhile#went back home. grandparents mom and uncles gave me 21 cents and advice on how to have a good birthday on the dime#played sonic the hedgehog with mom except ive never played sonic before in my life so it definitely wasnt that#more like animal crossing with an explore / battle mode?#and you could only pick from 3 characters#mom played with me. i was surprised.#. next dream#exploring a minecraft like world. big mansion#somehow end up in hell#i fall down and loose my exit. have to fight invisible ghasts and monsters until i can explore and find a way back#find a way back. no tools. hard to find resources to make a pickaxe in this mansion.#im with a bunch of people and mocked for not being able to find twigs#someone destroys a chair and hands me a bundle of twigs#i know the next step is to go punch a tree but all the trees growing here are pretty and i dont want to#later theres some ceremony. funeral maybe but with more religious undertones?#i have to wear a dress#and am handed heavy dangly earrings to wear#after i mourn and gather myself. some sort of special symbolism.#i take longer to mourn than the crowd of others would like#wearing the earrings themselves feels like tremendous grief to me. the weight of doing something I Am Not.#then they ask me to put on eyeshadow too#all of this in a very feminine way mind you#i tear tf out of there and flee#i run into more people in the hallway. somehow this place ends up being the church i grew up in
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bro im trying to write the fanfic i fucking forgot dyslexia existed
#i text to speech so often i forgot i cant read.............#idek if ive got dyslexia i forgor lmao#tried to get a referral to get it checked all i got was shitty advice#then when my reading problems popped up again i got a fucking prescription for adhd meds that i never took bc i dont need them#does dyselxia actually have a cure????#who do i call on#dyslexiablr#lmao#dyslexia#but man i thought i could bruteforce my way by text to speeching what i wrote down but then the words started fucking SWIMMING#while i was writing them not even reading#god i just want to write longfics#うちの愛しいれっくんってね#あいつって画面を見てないよ書くときに#確かにぼくと別に頭いい人だ
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i think i gotta pl;ay fallout 4 ..
#YAPPING this morninh#i tried watching the show i DIDNT LIKE IT. i would rather play the games#in middle school i tried fallout3 but i never felt incentivized to explore the world after getting out of the vault .#i think beth esda games are just like that though idk. ive been playing wolfing stein 2 (2017) and it feels like. beth esda uncharted#i think its just bc its an action adventure and you have like a little team and so far it hasnt been open world the way it was advertised#but ive been getting into the lore of the world in falloiut and im really enjoying it so maybe my game tastes have changed idk its worth a#shot :D i watched this video abt ghoul being an embodiment of the mythologized wild west genre in american pop culture history and how#pervasive a fantasy like that is. the continuation of manifest destiny and rooted in white supremacy yk. but also through the fallout lens#of 'Look at this idealized nuclear family/ american dream and look who it excludes look how it fails' and its really making me wanna try#playing again. i think one of my biggest flaws that i hate is that i cannot tolerate playing old games that are ugly in retrospect .... i#just cant.... i cant play the first red dead its too ugly im sorry... but i WILL research the lore and stuff#anyway thats why i think ill try 4. im just worried i wont like it bc you know.. i like platform action adventures.. not corny shit like#uncharted but idk maybe its an antiquated way of designing games but i like levels i like being given a campaign. i think my favorite way a#game works is like the way red dead does it. the story progresses but you can also explore on your own time. and the world changes as the#story progresses. idk i think i just maybe am not the target audience for any bethesda game LMFAO. anyway if anyone wants to give some#wise words regarding this Advice opinions etc feel free to send asks leave replies dm me :D
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#now my aunt is in remission...#a lot is happening and i feel the loneliest I've felt since high school#I've only been getting worse since my family denied what i went through and sat there and told me i wasn't probably remembering it correctly#i know what it was like growing up even if it comes back to me in spurts..#but they really have started to make me doubt myself and its the worse cause they never apologized for the neglect and abuse#and they all took their side and acted like i was mistaken and said “ i never saw it happened do it didn't happen#and now i dont even talk to the only two friends i had cause i dont feel the same#if i don't text them first they never ever message me first or even check on me#and im always the one being there for them and listening to them and im just tired lf it all#i dont want a future anymore and im slowly losing my grip ive held on do tight even at my loneliest and now i feel like im losing#i was never anyone's best friend and everyone of the people ive called friends were always closer to someone else#ive only always had myself but im losing hope for the future and i just feel so extremely empty again#i just want to end this feeling and the weed isnt working anymore and working out doesnt work... i need God ive been so far away from him..#Im just slowly losing it more and more im tired of being the friend everyone goes to for advice and laughs or enjoyment#im tired of it so much#the only time i feel joy is the bliss i feel when i sleep and even that joy is never truly felt cause i constantly fight my sleep#i only sleep when my body forced it self to cause i can't naturally just go to sleep st s set time anymore..#im so tired of being people's escape or advice person I'm probably only saying this for the overwhelming feeling#of being a colossal failure and disappointment even so i still try snd try and fail some more#why don't i quit I just dont know why its just something in me that has some glimmer of self hope ive only tried to kms once and failed#maybe ima bit glad i failed but apart of me laughs cause i even failed at kms and find it ironic cause i fail at so many things#im so incapable of salvaging some semblance of normality or consistency#Mr.inconsistent that i am and have been but i refuse to let myself end that way i have to fight for something even in this haze of mine..#i just want to be better why cant i get better and stay good.. maybe it hurts more than i let on finally speaking of what happened#and for them to deny it may have really affected me a lot snd i am just now seeing it manifest it self now ...#i just gotta live with it and just TRY to do better every single day snd in every single situation snd action i take...
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The discomfort as a white person of trying to place a character of color into my fic set in the 60s
I am. So uncomfortable. How do people write accurately about times like this I feel icky and I havnt even done anything yet
also im sleep deprived that probobly. Isnt helping
#I am not comfortable with the accurate verbage#but I dont want to make it sound modern#None of the characters are racist but the polite terms have long since changed#Im determined to make this character black though#im not just going to cut out the representation because i find it difficult to write#But this is a challange I havnt had before#i dont write often as it is and ive never tried to write a period peice before#so this is new for me#if anybody has advice I would deffidently appreciate it#My biggest fear on the internet is offending people I would rather crawl into a hole than upset anybody#im rambling#anyway#rambles#mash#m*a*s*h#I didnt really mention this was a mash post did I#its sort of implied though#now that i think about it idk if this specifically has anything to do with me being white#but I assume that people of color would be more comfortable using that sort of language if they were wanting to write accurately#Cause of reclaiming and stuff#none of the words I was considering are slurs#but they are like#very outdated ykwim?
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I am a craving based lifeform and I approve this message.
However, about vegans and B12:
My vegan flatmate tells me that they simply don't peel or overwash their veggies before they cook them. Their B12 levels have been tested and look great, year after year.
"craving a food means your body needs something that food can offer" now what the fuck does my body need with an ice cream
#I'm not vegan but I have some kind of problem getting B12 through my diet and have been taking shots every month for years.#The local MS nurse got on my case for wasting b12 by using it so often#I tried to follow her advice and#Was going to try the oral spray and injections every three months#30 days after the last injections i became horribly depressed and did not get better for days#Finally gave up and injected myself - felt better within the hour#She thinks that one of the neuros that ive never met is overdiagnosing people with my kind of b12 problem#I honestly dont remember who diagnosed my b12 deficiency but my MS attacks have decreased in frequency by an order of magnitude#Since i started the shots#Only ms drug i tried was copaxone for one year more than a decade ago#Would like to try newer drugs but my neuro is kind of weird about it - maybe because of my infrequent attacks#My major cravings are red beets caramelised eggplant avocados chocolate and vesturbæjarís soft serve milky ice cream#Any typos because my eyes are dead tired and my prescription is outdated
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After defeating Pariah Dark, Phantom -High King of the Infinite Realms- joins the JL or YJL.
Danny is a great addition to the team, he’s surrounded by other people with powers (even if they didn’t have to die to get them), he doesn’t have to hide who he is. Nobody is hunting him anymore. The Anti-Ecto acts have been abolished and so has the GIW. He can still help people but the pressure isn’t just on him anymore. His parents accept him. Danny is happy.
But one day, one fateful day…
Pariah rises again.
The magic users are scrambling. The JL and YJ are frantic. Danny is…
Pretty calm, actually. A little annoyed, perhaps.
That kinda tracks. He’s the high king of the infinite realms and all the dead. He’s defeated Pariah before- and now he’s older, more experienced, with a team that he’s never had before. He’s explored his powers and authority to an extent his past self could only dream of.
So when Pariah Dark, former Tyrant of the Dead, storms the watchtower where the heroes have gathered, they’re a little off-put by it but ready to defend their home with all their might- a newfound confidence from Phantom’s nonchalance.
But who would’ve guessed that Pariah Dark, former Tyrant of the dead, would ask Phantom..
If he could adopt him?
Danny guessed, it seemed.
“No.” Danny glared at him.
“I can give you-“
“I don’t want anything from you, you frootloop. Piss off.” Danny said pointedly, tapping his foot impatiently.
“I can offer you wisdom to lead your kingdom that you won’t find anywhere else!” Pariah said exasperated, waving his arms around.
“I don’t want a tyrant’s advice.” Danny sneered. The rest of the heroes exchanged glances. This certainly wasn’t on anybody’s bingo card.
“Alright, that’s fair, but-“
“Ive been ruling my kingdom just fine. Piss off.” Danny jabbed a finger at him. “I will eat your core if you ask again.” Pariah paled, (as much as a ghost could), then grumbled about getting him eventually before finally, finally leaving in a swirling, neon green portal.
Danny left in one of his own, after bidding goodbye to the rest of them. Nobody wanted to ask what that was about. He seemed pissed.
.
A little while later, the heroes finally got around to processing what exactly happened that morning.
The.. former king of the dead, known tyrant, the one who Danny defeated.. came back to ask??? If he could adopt Danny???? Again???? As in he tried asking before????????
There was much pandemonium for the heroes that fateful day.
#dpxdc#dc x dp#dcxdp#dp x dc#danny phantom#danny fenton#dp#dc#phantom#Danny#pariah dark#pariah#justice league#young justice#JL#YJ#headcannon#dp headcannon#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc prompt#dp x dc au#dpxdc headcannon#dc headcannon#ghost king Danny#ghost king phantom#ghost king Danny phantom#ghost king Danny au#ghost king phantom au#ghost king Danny phantom au
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#depression sucks#but also so does trauma#i wasnt allowed to do shit when i was young so i have an incredibly hard time making friends#which is why i always feel so left out of fandoms#i never have mutuals that talk to me#i never have someone to tell all my stories to and get advice#i never get support from consistant people#i just feel like im on an island here all by myself#its me. im the problem#there must be something wrong with me because this has happened in all 6 different fandoms ive been in#minus one with carly but the circumstances were different#i just see everyone being friends with each other and talking and having fun and i wish i could have that#because ive tried to involve myself more but i usually get cast aside and ignored#its very discouraging but what can i do#just continue living life on this island i guess
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the amount of advice ive read over the past few days about illustrating/being an artist online etc. feels so stale i could almost physically gag. ive obviously heard this same advice before but it always surmounts to "nobody cares about your art/videos/you as an individual so you have to work to make it appeal/get impressions" Ok but thats....how you make it not-interesting in the first place. by forcing yourself into a new niche that you dont care about. its also just wrong? just keep doing the same thing until you collect the audience that does care even if it takes years longer than it does for someone else
It used to be really common advice that u would never gain traction if you posted only ocs therefore you would only get those Sweet Stats if you made fanart. but lately you see people getting recognized for their mascots or followed for specific really interesting character interactions. its sweet. idk i wish i would stop seeing ppl basically tell artists theyre doomed unless they become more complacent especially considering i just tried to free myself from that mindset. past week or two has been rough nearly dropping out but i think ill be ok
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Almost, Always
♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader
Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?
CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating
Author’s note: part four! are we learning from our previous mistakes? TAKE A WILD GUESS! after this, have one more chapter to go, and i know ive been consistently posting every week, but im afraid that the last part is going to take me a whole extra week to finish (bc ill be out of the country for a sec) so, my apologies! but i hope this long chapter makes up for the extra wait! <3
Wordcount: 6.5K
part one - part two - part three - part four - part five
“I didn’t say he doesn’t… I just said, he has never actually said it.”
Emily’s jaw dropped, and you immediately regretted saying what you just said.
“No, stop. He has said it. Forget I said anything. It’s fine.”
You knew exactly what she was going to say.
She’d alluded to it from the start. Rolled her eyes at him. Made faces of outrageous confusion that told you, how can someone behave like that, without having to say the words aloud. Without making you hear them.
“I’m just saying…” Emily started, and showed you a facial expression that made you feel stupid for even bringing it up.
“It’d be better for you to leave him.”
You laughed, like she made a joke, yet so aware that she absolutely wasn’t.
But listen, if you didn’t laugh, you’d cry, because you knew, you knew somewhere in the back of your mind that it probably was better for you to leave him.
Not a truth you wanted to face though.
There were still too many easy excuses for you to make.
So... you made them.
But Emily’s face remained quite serious.
“Emily. You don’t mean that.” You said on the back-end of a giggle.
“Are you joking? My God, it’d be so much better if you left him. Better for you, better for, well, me. Can’t even tell you he loves you? What is he on?!”
You shushed her, and looked over your shoulder in the general direction of your bathroom and listened for a few seconds. The shower was still going. He couldn’t have heard her.
Good.
Not that Emily’s general opinion was a huge secret. But still. It was nice if the peace could be kept for the night.
“He does tell me that.” you argued, much softer. “Just...”
“Just does it when he’s about to hang up the phone? Just a quick, casual, love ya, when he’s saying goodbye?”
“Well, he–”
“Or does he only say it when he’s about to come?”
“Emily.”
“Oh, God. You’re so beyond help, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore.”
For a moment, you avoided eye-contact. Pressed your lips together and looked around the room whilst your friend tried her best to get it into your head that Joe really just wasn’t it.
“You know you’re in second place.” Emily said, suddenly much more earnestly. “You don’t deserve to be in second place.”
Which was a nice sentiment. A thing a best friend was meant to tell you. A bit like a parent calling their baby a genius because they accidentally made a bit of babbling sound like a real string of words.
“Well,” you said, taking a deep breath in and giving Emily your best smile. “So is he, so I guess we’re even.”
He wasn’t.
These were two different leagues.
But suggesting that Emily was in first place with you was the quickest way to make her feel appreciated even though her advice went untaken.
It always did.
Emily was a good friend and always gave excellent advice. And you were a good friend because you always listened to what she had to say. Or, you thought you did. Would tell yourself you did.
But then you simply wouldn’t follow any of it.
You hadn’t taken her advice when she’d told you to stop fucking around in a fourteen month situationship.
“I like how this just… works, don’t you?” Joe had said one evening when you were wrapped up on his sofa together. You’d made a comment that someone had flirted with you and had asked if you were single. You hadn’t known what to tell them.
Joe had just shrugged then.
“Let’s not push for something if it doesn’t need it. Something not broken doesn’t need a fix, does it?”
And you’d disagreed then. Had hoped that he’d grow a little protective and would’ve gone, um what do you mean of course you’re not single. For a while you also hadn’t wanted to define anything, because fuck commitment, right? But it had been over a year and Emily said that you should ask him to just fucking label it already.
You hadn’t.
You also hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy wasn’t going to make you happy.
Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy was ultimately just there for a bit of fun, but not really much else.
Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you to just leave him already when you told her he had never sincerely told you that he loves you.
“I know you’re smart enough to know that it’s absolutely wild that he’s not said–”
“It’s because you just hear all the bad things, I’m sorry. I should also tell you about the good shit.”
“Oh, yea? Like what?” Emily challenged, and in the silence that followed, you heard the shower turn off.
“Like... look! Look what he got me!” you said, picking up a bag from a dining table chair.
Your friend looked at it for a moment, blank faced, and then narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
“Got you? Like, he went out and bought that for you? Or, was that sent to him by the brand, and he just passed it on?”
You looked at the bag you were still holding, then gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. He still gave it to me.”
It was a nice bag.
“Not exactly the same is it.”
No, it wasn’t. But... you know. You could pretend it was.
“Still counts.”
“Okay. If you think so.”
You didn’t think so, not after what Emily had just said, but you were willing to accept it for the nice gesture, and that was all you cared about. Or, what you told yourself was all you cared about.
“I think so.” You definitively told Emily, breaking into a smile to really sell it.
Just when she was about to roll her eyes at you and maybe try her hand at talking a little more sense into you, Joe called you from the bathroom.
You left Emily on her own for about a minute before joining her again.
“Okay. Let’s go. He’s not coming.” You grabbed your coat and found your bag. The one Joe had given to you, but hadn’t spent a penny on.
“He’s– what?”
“He thought of something that still needs doing. He’s not coming.”
Emily stared at you from where she was sat, watching you hurriedly wrestle your arms into the sleeves of your coat as she slowly caught up to speed.
“So, I’m sorry, but have we just waited for him for ages for fucking nothing then?”
You ignored her tone, finding your phone, your keys, and then Emily’s coat as well.
“Let’s go. If we hurry, we might beat the rain.”
You chucked Emily her coat, and she almost didn’t move her arms in time to catch it. With the front door already open, you gestured for Emily to make her way through, calling, “Bye! We’re off!” into the flat.
Emily, under her breath, very mockingly sing-songed, “Love you!” in that same tone as she walked past you, making her point once more.
You didn’t repeat her, but instead rolled your eyes at what you decided was a joke, and then loudly said, “Don’t wait up!”
You didn’t wait for Joe to answer before you slammed the door shut.
It’s been weeks.
Months, technically, although it doesn’t feel it.
“Please be home, please be home, please be home,” you mutter to yourself as you rush your way down his street. “Please be in the fucking country, for just this fucking once…”
You’d texted and had gotten no coloured ticks from him. So then you’d called, but it just rang for ages before you were eventually sent to voicemail, and that’s something you don’t do. Especially not now. Not about this. Hell would have to freeze over before you’d leave a voicemail message. You could delete a text thread, or a voice note. But, a voicemail? Once a voicemail sends out, there is no undoing that.
Maybe you’re crazy, but what you’re doing now feels safer.
It’s after midnight, dark, the streets wet from earlier rainfall, but you feel wide awake. You’ve got Emily’s words ringing in your ears still, and you’ve not been able to shake them yet.
Her advice.
Or, well, it was more just her opinion. She had expertly dressed it up as a fact, though, which is probably why that one sentence still held you in a vice grip.
Telling her about how you’d had a few… moments, with Joe, since you’d broken up with him, turns out, was the wrong thing to do.
You just really wanted to tell her about the wine.
The expensive bottle you’d satisfyingly dunked into his kitchen sink.
It’s been weeks by now, but you still think about that all the time. And every time that you do, you feel pure glee spark inside of you.
You thought she’d be the same.
You thought she’d absolutely love it.
But then, after you had told her all about that night, she’d just looked at you with so much disdain and disappointment, it startled you into rambling excuses, none of which sounded true to your own ears, let alone hers. She then had shook her head, and sort of muttered something to herself that you asked her to repeat.
It’s those words that haven’t left the forefront of your mind since.
You didn’t ask Emily to clarify herself. You hadn’t gotten into an argument, either. You had just… moved onto a different topic. A lighter, easier to digest thing to talk about.
It left those words to rein freely, left those words at liberty to inflate themselves until they were all you could think about, and the feeling had clawed at your chest for the rest of the day. The rest of the night.
You hadn’t been able to answer the question, what’s wrong, that you were repeatedly asked until it made you upset.
“Nothing’s wrong! Stop asking me what’s wrong! God! You asking me what’s wrong a million times a minute is what’s wrong!”
Something is wrong though.
Obviously.
You just left someone in your bed for this.
Ringing Joe’s doorbell is a quick action, fingers pressing that familiar button before you can have any doubt of what you’re doing. It takes longer than a few seconds before you hear a small beep.
“Joe? I texted you, can you reply to my text?”
A silence follows, and for a moment you think maybe the intercom doesn’t work properly, or maybe he just hadn’t heard you.
“I– I sent you a message, check your phone–”
A loud click of the door unlocking and a loud shrill buzzing sound interrupts you.
“No you don’t have to– just text me back, will you?”
No answer follows, but the loud buzzing persists. After a few more seconds of it, you know Joe’s just holding down the button until you go inside.
That wasn’t the plan.
With a frustrated grumbling sigh, swearing under your breath, you push yourself into Joe’s building and make your way to his front door.
In the lift you decide you won’t let the doors close properly when they’ll open on Joe’s floor. You’ll tell him from half inside the lift that he just needs to check his phone.
You just want an answer.
But then the lift doors open and one foot steps out as you lean into the hallway, expecting to see Joe waiting by his front door, yet he isn’t.
You make an angry face, nose pulling up and showing your clenched teeth with a frown. You’re in a building where people are asleep so you can’t make any noise, but you absolutely would have otherwise. Joe leaves you no other choice but to get out of the lift, and begrudgingly, you make your way over to his doormat.
When you get closer, you can see how the door’s been left open.
“Hey,” you whisper-yell into the flat, “Joe?”
You get no answer, and take a few careful steps inside to find him standing in his kitchen in a T-shirt and a pair of boxer-briefs. He’s got his back turned to you, and is seemingly busy cleaning up mess he’s left out from dinner.
It’s the fucking middle of the night.
It’s dark in Joe’s flat, the only light in the room coming from his under cabinet LEDs, and it’s weirdly warm for the time of night, you think.
“Hey, I–” you start, voice low because it’s late, but you quickly get cut off by Joe.
“Did you close the door?”
You blink a few times and watch Joe very carefully load some things into his dishwasher, making little to no noise at all. No plates softly clashing, no rattling cutlery.
“What? No. I–”
“Will you close the door, please?” Joe asks, but it sounds like a demand. Sort of cold, a little detached.
“All I’m here to say,” you try again. “Is that I want you to check your phone...”
Joe stands up straight and finally looks at you. Whilst maintaining eye-contact he slowly closes the dishwasher until it latches, machine clicking shut, and when he then just... keeps staring at you, you throw your head back like an annoyed teenager, and reluctantly do as you’re told.
You go to close his front door.
In the kitchen you hear the tap go, and when you join Joe there again, you can see how he’s filling up a glass with water.
Joe is about to take a sip when he suddenly decides against it and lowers the glass.
“Water?” he then asks, and holds it out to you with a stretched arm.
You’re slightly confused, but you take it, and then watch Joe reach for another glass from a cabinet and fill that one for himself.
“Thanks, but…” you place the glass on his counter and hold two hands up to Joe. “I’m just here because I need an answer to a text.”
Joe, with his mouth in his own glass, sort of looks at you a moment as he gulps water down.
He looks tired.
Which, yea, that checks out.
You fucking woke him up, didn’t you?
There’s so many reasons to declare yourself clinically insane right now, but you’re holding onto the notion that this is actually all totally normal with all of your might. If you pretend to believe it, you might just be able to trick Joe into it as well.
But Joe just looks at you like he’s waiting for you to give the real reason of why you’re there.
“So, if you could just, check that. Answer it. That’d be great.” You force a polite smile and step back. “That’ll be all.” And you turn to leave again.
“You’ve been crying.” Joe stops you in your tracks.
You turn back to him.
“No. Well, yea I was, but that’s not– I’m fine, that was about something else, not this. You don’t have to– stop, I’m going to go, please... respond to my message. I’ll read it when I get in, and that’ll be that.”
“Wait.”
Joe picks up the glass of water you’ve just put down and gives it back to you. When it’s in your hands, he even gives it a little push upward to ensure that you have a sip.
“I’ll go get my phone.”
And he’s so calm and agreeable that it feels rude to do anything else but take a sip and wait for him. You watch Joe walk out of the room to go get his phone, and it’s a lot of opening and closing doors, everything done as quietly as humanly possible. Then, you suddenly notice how hot you feel in your coat. It’s really fucking warm in here.
That’s new.
That’s... weird.
When Joe comes back, he closes the door behind him again and looks at his phone as he unlocks it.
“Why did you call me?”
“Just–”
“I’ll read the text.”
In silence, you stand and watch Joe open his texts and read your message. Messages. There’s several. Then, he starts typing back, and, this is what you came here for, but now that you’re standing in Joe’s kitchen in the middle of the night, having pulled him out of bed for this, you almost want to tell him he’s being an idiot. He can just as easily answer your question in person.
His message sends, and your phone buzzes in your pocket.
Joe places his down and gives you a tired stare.
“Yea, okay. Th-thanks.”
“Read it.”
It startles you.
“No, that’s…” You’re so stupid. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Read your message.”
You feel like a fucking child that’s being scolded by a parent.
Guilt.
Regret.
Self-inflicted, which makes all of it so much worse.
Every feeling sits dark and sticky and bitterly uncomfortable in your gut, clinging to all the edges, stretching longer until the shadows overtake all of the previous excuses you had for being here.
You shouldn’t have come.
You shouldn’t have gone to wake up Joe over something so insignificant and, well, dumb. It’s embarrassing, and you want to leave.
“You’re here now. I’m up. Read your message.”
You inhale deeply. Hold it there for a moment.
He’s right.
The damage has been done.
You’ve dipped a toe into this strange pond, and now you might as well canon ball yourself right into this uncomfortable mess, no matter how cold the water might be.
The only way out seems through.
You pull your phone from your pocket with a clammy hand, and fucking damn it, you’re sweating underneath all of your layers.
“I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have woken you up.”
Joe just lets his eyes drop to your phone before he looks right at you again, his very stance issuing the orders.
Read the fucking text.
You see the notification and open your phone with face ID. Your own messages to Joe catch your attention first, before you see his reply.
“Were we as good as we’re going to get?”
“What we were together”
“Was that really as good as it can get?”
“Ever?”
You didn’t have to send the same question in various different ways, but that’s what had happened.
Emily’s reaction to the stand alone get-togethers you’d participated in with Joe hadn’t been what you’d expected. You’d hoped for a level of girl power encouragement. For a loud get it girl, or a, yea babe get what you want.
Instead, you’d gotten a sigh and shake of her head, followed by a soberly mumbled, “You really do deserve each other…” that you’d asked her to repeat.
Before she’d always said that Joe didn’t deserve you. That was always the point she tried to get across. The idea she tried to sear into your brain. Joe was beneath you, and you were far above. Always.
And then suddenly, now you are no longer too good for him?
Suddenly you’re on equal footing, and you deserve each other.
What the fuck.
You look at your own messages and realise in that very second that you have no idea what kind of answer you are after from Joe. This isn’t a coin toss situation where you know what side you want that coin to land on the moment it get’s thrown into the air. Fear strikes you lightning fast. No matter what Joe is going to tell you, it’s going to be wrong.
What the fuck are you doing at Joe’s flat?
And why is it so fucking hot in here?
The only way out is through.
You read Joe’s text.
“Darling it’s late, let’s not do this over text”
A non-answer.
You look up at Joe, who is now leaning against his kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest. His head tilts to the side a little and neither of you speak.
It’s oddly unexpected that the guy in his underwear exudes more confidence than the girl bundled up in heavy layers of clothing.
You frown and read the message again.
For a second you debate what to do next. What to say. If this is going to be the end of this interaction, or if it’s going to be just the beginning.
It’s late, though.
You inhale deeply. Slowly.
Then, resign.
“Okay.”
Because honestly, what were you really even expecting from him?
Your soft little defeated okay isn’t what Joe expected though, you can see it in the minor change on his face. The eyebrows that quirk up slightly, his jaw that loosens, the eyes that round out...
“I’ll um...” you say softly, letting your phone sink back into a pocket before pulling at your sleeves to let them cover both hands.
Joe steps forward and bends to look at the clock on the oven behind him before he says, “Well. Since you’re here. Might as well.”
He gestures an arm at his dining table. At one of his chairs. It’s hard, but you do your best to ignore the memories of the last time you were there, sat in one of these chairs. Well, technically, you hadn’t sat in one of the chairs... Joe had sat on one of the chairs and you–
“Am I going to get an explanation of what’s going on?” Joe asks as he pulls out a chair for you.
Finally, you remove your coat.
“It’s a long story.” You say, then think for a moment and add, “No it’s not, actually. Emily said–”
“Ah. Emily.” Joe sits down in a chair opposite. “How is Emily doing?”
“Shut up. She’s fine.” You exclaim, voice a little raised in defense, and you’re immediately shushed by Joe. He holds up a hand as he perks up, and you get the message, lowering your tone as you add, “This isn’t about her.”
“It’s not?”
“No. She just said something. I…” you trail off for a second.
Your head’s a scrambled mess of doubt and insecurities and it doesn’t help that all you’ve done in the past few hours is overthink every single thought that’s popped into your brain. It’s a bit of a journey to retrace your steps and go back to the start of all of this.
“We were talking, and suddenly she... she said something and I’m just… I wanted to know if you think that… if you think what I texted you is true.”
“You just… wanted to know… if I think…” Joe narrows his eyes up at the ceiling as he thinks, slowly repeating your words.
It’s condescending.
Patronising.
Joe’s making fun of you.
“All right, be fucking honest or–”
“No, no. I’m sorry. Sorry. It’s nearly two in the fucking morning,” two already big eyes comically enlargen, but don’t make you laugh. Wrong audience. “But, yea, you’re right. Honest. I’ll be honest.”
You take a deep breath in preparation of what he’s about to say.
Were we as good as we’re going to get?
“Imposing question, though.”
Yea, you’re aware. It’s why you hadn’t been able to sleep and had eventually decided to just get up and out of bed, leave the boy you had in there on his own, and make your way over to Joe’s.
“I don’t know.”
Wild how you feel about five inches tall whilst simultaneously feeling like you’re taking up too much space in the room.
“You don’t know.”
Typical.
“Well. No, I… was it as good, wait, what was it?” Joe looks past you and sees that he’s left his phone on the counter. “Was it as good as it could be?”
You exhale through flared nostrils, frustration forcing your eyes shut for a moment.
“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get for us?”
“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get... I mean, I think so? I– But–... you tell me. Were we?”
And Joe’s right. It is late. You have spent hours thinking that question over, and you couldn’t answer it when you weren’t as tired as you are now, so it’s useless to even try at this hour.
You shrug, and for a moment, it’s quiet. You don’t know how to go about leaving now. You came here for something you aren’t going to get and so, fucking now what?
“Why um... why have you been crying?”
“Oh, I...” your fingers find your sleeve to rub. “I was asked why I couldn’t sleep, and I... well, I couldn’t really explain, so...”
Joe frowns in confusion, not understanding.
“I don’t know, you try listening to someone say shit like, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I can’t help you, fifty times in a row, and try not to fucking snap.”
They’d been tears of angry frustration, mostly with yourself, and they’d actually surprised you. You hadn’t expected to cry, but, you felt hurt by words your best friend said to you, so you guess that does add up, actually.
Something slowly dawns on Joe before he then leans back in his chair and nods, scrunching his nose, and he whispers, “Jasper.”
“Jasper.” you confirm, and it makes you chuckle a little before a yawn breaks it up.
Joe watches you. Lets his eyes take you in. It’s the middle of the night and you’re very clearly going through something, but he hasn’t got the answers to the questions you’re asking him, and he hates it.
Wishes he could help.
Wishes the questions you wanted answers to weren’t so impossible.
Joe watches you yawn. Watches your eyes blink slowly as you stare into space for a moment. It’s so quiet, he can hear his clock tick on the other side of the room. Then suddenly, you smile.
“I told Emily about the wine... about how I was a complete bitch and poured that bottle right down your drain.”
And Joe can’t help but feel more amused at your smile than feel annoyed about his expensive wine being wasted. He won’t let his face show it though.
“Bet she enjoyed that.”
“Yea I thought she would, but... she just... she said that we deserve each other. Whatever that means.”
Joe watches your fingers rub along your sleeves. Knows what that means.
“That’s not true.” he suddenly says, voice low and sincere.
“Oh, right,” you huff a laugh and half-heartedly joke, “I don’t deserve you, of course.”
Joe doesn’t laugh.
“No, I mean... well, yes. Technically.” Before he continues, Joe shakes his head in an attempt get his thoughts in order. It’s late. “But not in the way you just said it. In that... you probably deserve better.”
“Probably?”
“Yea. And so do I. Probably.”
Hmm.
You silently mill that over for a second. Aren’t sure what to make of it. If there’s even anything to agree or disagree with there.
“But, who’s to say. All we know is that we weren’t the best before.”
Joe stresses that last word and then lets the words float in the air for you to draw your own conclusions from. It’s certainly true that you weren’t the best together - hence the break up that eventually happened. But Joe’s expertly sharing the blame, which is not a fun truth to face.
The before saves it, a little.
The before makes it sounds like Joe’s talking about two people who no longer exist. Like, those people are gone. That door is closed. And look at you now. You’re a whole new set of two different people. It’s a different world, and you’ve changed. Grown. Learnt.
Who knows what you’d be like now.
Joe can’t predict the future.
And neither can you.
“Hmm.” you hum, eyes trained on the surface of the table, body flushed with conflicting feelings you don’t know how to put into words. Instead of stumbling through words until you find ones that make sense, you remain silent and pull at your sleeves so there’s more fabric for your fingers to run across.
“Hey,” Joe leans forward a little and catches your attention. “Are you okay? Do I need to be worried about you?”
You smile and let it take over your whole face as you shake your head no before you bring your hand up to cover another yawn.
“No. But I should go. This was never meant to be– she just… I don’t know, Emily got into my head and I didn’t know how to get her out.”
Joe contemplates in silence. Wonders if he’s okay with the idea of you walking out and going home right now, in this state. It’s almost three o’clock.
“I don’t make the best decisions after midnight. Sorry.”
You push your chair back and get up on your feet, the plan being to give Joe a quick polite hug goodbye before you make your way back to his front door.
You’re tired, but you know the second you step outside into the cold air that will make your lungs feel sore, you’ll wake up enough to make your way home without any problems.
But then Joe decides you can’t just go.
You can’t just leave.
He’s stuck.
You’re stuck.
You’re stuck in it, together, in this muddy sludge of whatever the two of you have become now. One of you is going to have to step out of their shoes and escape, and Joe thinks it should be you, because you’ve escaped this quicksand of a relationship before. You know how to get out.
It’s weird that you willingly came back.
Keep coming back.
And it’s awful that Joe just keeps inviting you in. Welcomes you with open arms every single time.
But he wants you to stay. It doesn’t have to be like before. Things can be different. Better.
He decides he’s not just going to let you leave, so when he stands up and you go in for a hug, he takes hold of you by your upper arms and starts moving you towards his sofa.
Says, “Come sit for a second.”
And no resistance comes from you. Joe thinks it must be because you’re tired. You’ve cried and you’ve worried and you’ve let all of it eat away at you until you decided to reach out to him, and now, he wants you to stay. He’s not a fan of how, from a certain angle, it looks like he’s taking advantage of the situation, but... you’re both adults.
He’s not doing anything illegal.
Well.
There’s a girl in his bed.
It’s why the flat is warm and why all the doors are closed. Joe shouldn’t have let you inside. Shouldn’t have made you come in and shouldn’t have made you close the door behind you. Shouldn’t have given you a glass of water and shouldn’t have sat you down.
He doesn’t want you to leave now.
There’s a girl in his bed.
And you’ve got a Jasper in yours.
Joe’s closeness to you will come at a price, he’s aware. But it’s one he’s willing to pay. One he’s got the cash for, no problem. Name the sum and he’ll double it.
He’s got you by the arms and is walking you over to his sofa. You are stopped just before you’re about to step onto the area rug.
“Shoes off,” he says, like he gives a shit. You know he doesn’t, but listen to him anyway, and know that taking your shoes off means you’re not going anywhere. At least not for a while.
You get turned around and get sat down, and immediately, you feel far too comfortable. The seat’s too soft. The cushion’s too fluffy. Memories of the hours spent snuggled up on this sofa shoot into the forefront of your mind and you want to warn Joe that it’s not going to take much for you to fall asleep.
But before you can, he pulls a throw blanket from the other side and hands it to you, and you realise that getting comfy and cosy is actually the goal here.
There’s a guy in your bed, who you’ve just… left. Didn’t tell him anything. Just got out, got dressed and left.
You take the blanket from Joe.
It’s probably a good idea to at least let him know something. Send him a text. Let him know you’re okay. But that little voice of reason in your head gets drowned out when Joe sits down next to you and helps sort out the blanket so it covers you both.
“Sit for a second?” you ask through a soft half-suppressed laugh as Joe settles in beside you, your thighs touch underneath the throw. “Am I staying the night?”
“I don’t know, I don’t control what you do. I just want to sit for a second.”
Joe stretches an arm behind you that you think he’s going to rest on top of the sofa, but it moves your head forward a little as it grabs hold of your bicep to pull you in a bit more.
“Joe...” you warn, but it sounds lighthearted and sleepy.
“What?” Joe acts all innocent, but you can hear his amusement when he adds, “Just for a second.”
Joe is still shuffling in his spot, using his other hand to sort the cushion behind him, then pulling the blanket and tucking it under his leg, followed by him using his chin to fix the bit of flipped cotton of his T-shirt sleeve – it’s a lot of faffing for someone who wants to sit for just a second.
He’s nearly done, a centering sigh half way out of him when, suddenly, you feel how he pipes up a little and see how he looks across the room. His phone’s still on the counter, and for a second, Joe debates getting up to go and get it.
You determine on his behalf that he doesn’t need his phone by draping your arm across his stomach and snuggling up.
It’s warm in Joe’s flat.
And this little nest is perfect.
“Fine.” you mutter softly. “Jus’ for a second.”
Joe pauses for a moment as he looks down at how you let your nose brush his arm, your eyes already closed, and he grins as he sinks back down into his sofa.
You don’t make the best decisions after midnight.
Neither does Joe.
Maybe you do deserve each other. Maybe you don’t.
But you deserve this, you think. And you mean that in the best way possible. You deserve to be comfortable, and cosy, and toasty warm in a dimly lit room with a man who smells really nice.
You deserve to cuddle up next to someone who truly values your presence and genuinely just wants you to be there with them for a little while.
You deserve the soft tickling fingertips that delicately dance across your hairline, lingering there for far longer than ‘just a second’.
You deserve the barely whispered, super soft “Love you.” spoken so tenderly and punctuated with a gentle kiss pressed to the top of your head, it makes you tighten your arms around him.
You fall asleep in the soft glow of the under cabinet LEDs with the knowledge that the next morning is bound to be awkward. But this is still infinitely nicer than trying to fall asleep with Emily’s words on your mind. It’s difficult to think about impossible-to-answer questions when you’re wrapped up in strong warm arms that want you there, so you allow yourself to sink and to drift until dreams fully take you.
A loud bang of a door slamming shut wakes the both of you with a violent jolt.
Two pairs of tired bleary eyes look around the room, and there’s a fleeting moment of confusion. Your mind scrambles to piece together where you are and what just happened, but all your mind can focus on is how dry and heavy your eyes feel as you blink to adjust to your surroundings.
“Oh, fuck,” Joe croaks, groaning as he goes to sit up. He looks over his shoulder, then rubs a heavy hand across his face before he goes, “Yea…”
You feel disoriented and frazzled, and move to sit up just enough to look over the back of the sofa with squinty eyes to see what Joe is even looking at.
All you see is an open door to the hallway that leads to his bedroom.
“What was that?” you ask, thinking maybe something dropped or knocked over somehow. When Joe gets up and walks over to his bedroom to check, you think that’s it. Something fell because gravity finally got a hold of whatever Joe had been precariously balancing on a bookshelf.
But then you hear Joe audibly sigh and dejectedly go, “Yea, she won’t be coming back.”
That takes minute to land.
It’s too early for your brain to comprehend what just happened, but slowly, puzzle pieces click together.
Oh.
Oh, that’s fucking detestable, isn’t it?
When Joe walks back out, he’s wearing joggers and is holding a ball of socks, and you hope there’s a different explanation than the correct one you just concocted. He looks at you for a moment, and you can tell by the look on his face that he feels awful.
Right.
Emily can fuck off.
You don’t deserve each other.
You deserve better than this.
Okay, so, yea, admittedly, you aren’t really one to talk, seeing the personal choices you have made over the past eight hours. But the choices Joe has made in that same span of time are just as bad, if not worse.
You decide to give into the feeling of wanting to lay back down rather than to face whatever this morning has on offer for you. You disappear from Joe’s sight, and cover all of your face with your hands that press and pull at your skin.
This is such a mess.
“Emily can fuck off.” You mutter into your own palms, hoping Joe can translate that and connect the dots of your disdain for him in this very moment.
You should leave.
Should check your phone for any messages or missed calls, and you should leave.
Never come back.
Learn your fucking lesson already and never set foot into this flat ever again.
But then Joe leans over the back of the sofa, and with knitted eyebrows that show off every single line on his forehead, he softly asks, “Do you want a coffee?”
You drop your hands.
Look up at him. The kind face. His short hair sleep messy. Jaw line. His mouth.
You should leave.
“Um…”
Oh... oh no.
“Yea…”
Fuck.
So close.
“Yea?”
You almost had it.
“Yea. I could use a coffee.”
Almost.
---
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Sweeter Than Revenge Epilogue
AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 31. Panic Attack Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: As you begin to head home after your traumatic night, you discover Tyler's concerns were valid. But can you learn to overcome your fears when your greatest fear might still come true? Are things truly over between you and Tyler? Word Count: 5283 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, PTSD, Panic Attack, Head Injury, Blood, Dissociating, Heartbreak, Tears, Tyler carries Reader, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @green-socks for the incredible beta read and advice! And to @mayhem24-7forever and @blue-aconite for all the constant support! Part of @ailesswhumptober's whumptober event!
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Unfortunately, Tyler had been right about how the events of that night would affect you.
Scott got you checked into the hospital and they managed to remove all the remaining glass from your aching body. They also ran a CT scan on your head to make sure you hadn’t done more damage when you hit it than you thought. It came back as a mild concussion, but they wanted to keep you overnight for observation just to be safe. They also put you on an IV since you were slightly dehydrated (probably from all the tears you’d shed that night).
As you settled into your temporary accommodations, you told Scott he could go back to the motel and pick you up tomorrow. There was no reason he should hang out here all night when he already rented a room with a somewhat comfortable bed before all of this happened. He didn’t respond either way, just sunk down lower in the chair he was sitting in.
Taking that as him intending to stay, you rolled over and tried to get comfortable in the lumpy hospital bed. You stared at the empty space beside you where Tyler usually lay and you reached out, as if touching that spot would somehow make him appear. But of course, he didn’t. He was back picking up the pieces of your budding relationship in what was left of your shattered motel room.
You try to bury your head in your pillow so Scott doesn’t see the tears forming in your eyes, but you can’t hold back a loud sniffle as you think about all that you lost tonight. Scott must have heard it because he rose from his chair and ducked out of the room. You didn’t blame him. After all, he’d never been good with emotions—expressing them or dealing with them—and you were only just starting to reestablish your relationship so he had to be uncomfortable.
Ten minutes later, however, Scott walked back into the room. Coming up to your bed, he thrust his hand out. “Here.”
You blinked in surprise at the teddy bear he held out to you. It was about a foot tall with brown fur. There was a bandaid on its head next to its ear, its arm was in a sling, and one of its legs was wrapped in bandages. Scrawled across its tummy in childlike writing was the phrase “Get Well Soon”.
Taking it from him with trembling hands, you asked, “Wh-where did you…?”
He shrugged. “The gift shop. I thought you might want something to keep you company while you sleep.”
“I love it, Scotty. Thank you.” You squeeze the bear tightly to your chest. Smiling up at your brother, you said, “I’m gonna call him Bill.”
Scott’s brow furrowed. “Why Bill?”
You shrugged, holding out your new friend to look at him. “I don’t know. He just looks like a Bill.”
Scott sighed as he shook his head, but you caught a glimpse of a small smile on his lips as he walked back to the chair he had been sitting in earlier and flopped back down. He pulled the bill of his baseball hat down so it covered his face as he sunk deeper into his seat.
Picking at Bill’s bandage, you asked softly, “So, you’ll be here all night? Like if I…if I need something?”
“Yeah,” Scott said from under his hat. “I won’t leave you alone.”
Nodding in gratitude, you whispered, “Thank you, Scotty. For everything.”
With one finger—in an act that reminded you so much of Tyler—he pushed the bill of his hat up enough so he could see you. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you and that last conversation we had was the last time I ever got to talk to you.”
“I’m glad we’ve gotten to talk more and work everything out.”
“Me too.” Scott's smile widened. Then he pulled his hat back down over his face. “Now, try to get some sleep. You’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow.”
Rolling back over, you tucked Bill under your arm and hugged him tight to your chest. As you began to drift off, you wondered if Tyler was lying down to sleep yet, and—if he was—if he was thinking of you too.
You're back in that motel room. All the lights are out and you are standing by the bed in that merch shirt and your underwear. Looking around, you realize that you’re alone. Tyler isn’t anywhere to be seen.
You take a single step forward and the entire room explodes. The window in front of you shatters into millions of tiny dagger-like pieces of glass which drive into you, pinning you to the floor. Your head slams into the bed and you feel a river of blood flowing into your hair and pooling around you. The wind seems to have come alive as it growls and roars at you, clawing at your legs and trying to drag you through the now gaping hole in the wall. You scream out for Tyler, for Scotty, for anyone who might save you but there is no one. As the blood continues to gush from your head, the pool rises, spilling into your mouth and drowning you. You gasp for air which is stolen by the storm and—
“We can’t snap her out of it, she’s not coming to.”
“All this screaming is going to terrify the other patients.”
“She’s thrashing around too much, she’s going to pull out her IV.”
“We need to sedate her.”
“Wh-what’s going on? What’s wrong with her? Is she okay?”
Even through the terror flooding your system, you recognized that last voice as your brother’s. But before you could open your eyes or try to reach him, you felt a small prick on your arm and you were pulled down into a dark, dreamless unconsciousness.
When you slowly woke up again, you noticed sunlight streaming through the half-opened blinds. Your throat was even sorer than you remembered when you fell asleep and it felt bone dry. Reaching blindly next to you for a glass of water, you felt hands gently take yours and lay it back on the bed.
“Hey,” Scott said softly, stepping into your field of vision. “Just rest. Do you need something?”
“Water,” you croaked out, your tongue running over your chapped lips.
Scott disappeared for a moment then reappeared with a plastic cup. You tried to take it from him only to finally realize your hand felt heavy and sluggish when you tried to move it—as did the rest of your body. Scott must have noticed because he lifted your head and helped you drink. After you had chugged most of the cup (spilling a lot of it down the front of your hospital gown), you felt a little better.
Clearing your throat, you asked, “What happened?”
“You had a nightmare last night.” Scott settled back into a chair he must have dragged up next to the bed. “They couldn’t wake you up and were afraid you’d hurt yourself so they sedated you.”
“Oh.”
“Do you remember any of that?”
“Now that you mention it, yeah.” You shuddered slightly as you recalled your nightmare. “I guess Tyler was right about how what happened might have affected me.”
“I’m sorry.” Scott reached out and took your hand. Something caught his eye and he grabbed it off the floor with his free hand. Gently, he placed Bill on the bed next to you. “Guess he didn’t do such a good job watching over you.”
Grabbing the bear, you hugged it tightly. “He did his best. Sometimes, there’s only so much you can do to protect someone.” Tears began to fill your eyes. “And sometimes, protecting someone means making painful decisions. But even then, it might not be enough.”
Scott scoffed softly. “Something tells me you’re not talking about Bill anymore.”
You shook your head. “Tyler tried so hard to keep me safe. He even sent me away despite it breaking both our hearts to do it. But it didn’t matter. I left like he wanted but the storm still followed me. Now I’m afraid I’ll never be rid of it and I gave up someone I loved for nothing.”
Scott shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with you once again admitting you were in love with Tyler, but he resisted his usual urge to insult him, instead calmly saying, “We all knew this wasn’t going to be an overnight process. Owens told you to leave because he didn’t want you to have to face the possibility of encountering another storm. But that was never going to fix the damage done to you by the first one. I don’t know what it’ll take to heal that, but I do know I’m not turning my back on you again. Whatever you need, I’ll be there to help you through it.”
The tears that had formed in your eyes began streaming down your face. You opened your arms, fully expecting him to not take the invitation. But to your utter surprise, Scott leaned forward and wrapped you in a—slightly awkward—embrace.
With his head next to yours, you whispered your deepest fears to your brother, “What if I can’t move past this? What if what happened last night is just my new normal for the rest of my life? And what if…what if Tyler realizes he doesn’t really love me or want to deal with all this new baggage I have?”
Scott flinched at your admitted fears. Hesitating for a moment, he finally admitted, “I don’t know the answer to those questions. I think you need to find someone to talk to, like a therapist. I have some friends who might know someone who specializes in stuff like this and I’ll make some calls. As for Owens, if he can’t see what an amazing woman you are, baggage or no, then I was right all along about him. But…” He sighed in a way that made it seem like whatever came next pained him to say, “He seems to really care about you and, from what I saw last night, he didn’t want you to leave any more than you wanted to leave. So, I don’t think you have to worry about him not reaching out once the season’s over. And if he doesn’t, I can always run him over with Scarecrow.”
You laughed even as your snot and tears stained Scott’s shirt. “Would that be more for my honor or just because you’ve wanted to do that for so long anyway?”
“Can’t it be both?”
You laughed again and you felt as the last remaining bit of your nightmare still clinging to you faded into oblivion. However, you knew it’d be back. Last night was just a taste of what you should expect moving forward.
You were discharged from the hospital later that day with a bottle of sleeping pills and your promise to find a therapist to help you deal with your nightmares. Once you left, Scott drove you to the airport as promised. He sat with you until it was time to go through security. Then, you gave your brother the biggest hug you could manage and said goodbye. You would think with all the goodbyes you had to say the last two days you would have gotten used to them. But as you turned one final time to look at him before you passed through the security doors, tears filled your eyes once more.
You had found or rediscovered two families on this trip only to once again be left all alone.
The flight home was uneventful. You had called ahead and explained everything to your best friend so she was waiting to take you to your apartment as soon as you walked out of the terminal. Despite your objections, she insisted on staying with you for the first couple of nights after hearing about your hospital freakout. But you didn’t want her to see you like that, to know how bad things really were. So, you tried your best to stay awake the entire time she was there (and luckily the one time you did doze off, you were so exhausted you didn’t dream at all). So, she left two days later, confident that you would be alright on your own.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.
Even safely back in your own apartment, far from the rolling plains and open skies of Oklahoma, the events of that night continued to haunt you. Anytime the wind picked up outside or you heard a police or fire siren go off, you flashed back to that motel room and devolved into a full-blown panic attack. And every night you woke up multiple times, gasping for breath and terrifiedly retreating from any window in your apartment. At least when the storm had actually hit, you had Tyler there to comfort you. Now, you were alone.
One night after a particularly bad attack, you managed to roll out of bed and crawl into your closet. There, curled in a ball on the floor, you sobbed and shook as that night replayed in your mind. But then, you heard a voice whispering “Shhh… sweetheart, it’s over now. We’re okay, we’re okay. We made it.”
Your head shot up and you looked around the dark space. “Tyler?”
But of course, he wasn’t there. It was just part of the memory. Yet as you laid back down on the floor, it wasn’t the howling of the wind roaring in your ears or pulling at your clothes, it was Tyler’s voice repeating those words over and over again that you heard and you felt his fingers caressing your skin as he tried to soothe you. In minutes, you had drifted off to sleep.
After that, you spent most nights curled in the bottom of your closet. You cleaned out the shoes and boxes scattered across the floor, laid a few blankets down, tossed in a pillow, and placed Bill on top so he was waiting for you. It wasn’t the most comfortable of arrangements, but being in the closet helped ease some of the terror from your dreams, so it would do.
Scott had an old friend from MIT whose sister was now one of the country’s top PTSD therapists so, true to his word, he made a call to get you an appointment. It felt a little strange being labeled as having PTSD, but then again, you couldn’t think of any other way to describe what you were dealing with.
It took more than a few visits, but eventually, your work with the therapist seemed to be paying off. You still had the nightmares but they became a few times a week occurrence instead of an every night thing. And even when you did have one, you could usually manage to calm yourself down and go back to sleep shortly after (though you were still sleeping in your closet most nights just to be on the safe side).
You called Scott after every appointment to let him know how it went. Since you had gotten home, you talked to your brother at least once a day, usually just to check in and see how you were doing. Things still weren’t perfect between the two of you, but they were better than they had been in years. In fact, your relationship was probably better than it had ever been. Scott was still his usual no-nonsense, unemotional, snarky self, but there was a softness in his tone that hadn’t been there before. And you even made him laugh on occasion.
He never mentioned Tyler and you never asked.
A few times a week, you received texts or emails from the Wranglers, usually sending you a funny video or asking how you were. You missed your little found family so much and it was a relief to see you weren’t the only one. Part of you thought they might not give you a second thought once you left, but it was clear they missed you as much as you missed them.
They never mentioned Tyler and you never asked.
You still couldn’t bring yourself to watch any of their YouTube videos, old or new. Once you had gotten deeper into your therapy though, your therapist encouraged you to. She said it would help tackle some of your fears of the storms by experiencing one, but all from the complete safety of your apartment. It was sound advice…if that was your issue with the videos.
You didn’t tell her it wasn’t that you couldn’t face the storm, it was that you couldn’t bear to see or hear Tyler in the videos. Even seeing his picture on one of the thumbnails had made your heart ache and tears well up in your eyes before you slammed the laptop shut.
Part of you felt stupid about how much you missed him. After all, he had only been in your life for three weeks. Yet you had known from your first kiss that you never wanted anyone else. In your mind, Tyler was it for you and to have him ripped away so suddenly was devastating. You knew if you watched those videos, they would just remind you of riding beside him in that perfect bubble you had lived in for those few weeks. When the world was perfect and nothing could go wrong. How naive you had been.
But as much as the pain of saying goodbye was on your mind, worse was the constant fear that you shared with Scott in the hospital. That the distance would make Tyler realize he didn’t want you and you would be left sitting by the phone for a call that would never come. And seeing Ty, hearing his voice as he did the thing he loved most in this world, would make that eventual rejection hurt all the more. If you maintained your clean break, then if things were truly over, you didn’t have to start the healing process all over again once it became clear you’d never hear from Tyler again.
Or that’s what you told yourself.
Thirty-six days after you left Oklahoma, you were cleaning up after dinner when your phone rang. Figuring it was Scott calling for his nightly check-in, you paused your music and snatched your phone off the counter.
Your world stopped as you saw the contact photo staring back at you.
It was the first time you had seen his face since the thumbnail incident and he was every bit as handsome as in your memories. Pressing the answer button, you raised your trembling hand to your ear, still not believing it was really him.
“Hello?” you whispered, voice quivering as you held your breath.
There was a slight pause, and then, “Hey, sweetheart. You feeling up for a visitor?”
You let out a shaky breath of relief, as the sound of his voice washes over you. “Fuck yeah, I am,” you said, tears streaming down your beaming face. “I’ve been waiting for your sorry ass to call since the moment I left. How soon can you be here?”
He chuckled, the sound sending a warm glow spreading through your body. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Your phone slipped from your fingers and your head shot up as there was a loud knock at your door.
Tripping over your own feet as you scrambled towards the door, you flung it open without pausing to confirm who was on the other side.
And there he was.
Whether it was true or just the fact you had gone so long without seeing him, Tyler had never looked more handsome. With his hair freshly trimmed, just a faint hint of stubble lining his cheeks, and wearing a fresh pair of jeans with a new button-down green shirt that highlighted his eyes, he was breathtaking. But what really made you weak in the knees was the dimpled grin he gave you as his eyes lit up upon seeing you.
“There’s my girl.”
You launched yourself into his arms, tears streaming down your face as your lips found his. You heard his hat and phone clatter to the ground where he had been holding them, but you didn’t care. His hands settled on your waist—you had forgotten how large and strong they were—and he pulled you flush against his body. You gasped into his mouth at the sudden movement and he rocked gently against your hips.
He still smelled like the moment before a rainstorm, fresh and earthy, but he had also put on some cologne for the occasion. It was only then that you realized while he had gotten all fancy for his visit, you were currently in a pair of ratty sweatpants and a tank top stained by tonight’s spaghetti sauce. And that wasn’t even mentioning the state of your hair or your lack of makeup.
Peeling your mouth away from his, you muttered, “You should have told me you were coming. I’m a complete mess.”
But Tyler shook his head, one hand sliding up your body until it cupped the base of your neck. “No, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” And he kissed you again.
This time it was needier, hungrier, and it reminded you of your kiss the first night you invited him into your room. But if things were headed in that same direction….
“Ty,” you moaned against his lips, your bare toes curling on the concrete as a jolt of pleasure went through your core. “Not here. We can’t do this in the hall.”
Reluctantly, he pulled away, his green eyes dark and his lips swollen. “I’m sorry,” he panted. “I, uh, I let things get away from me for a moment.”
“It’s okay,” you smiled at him, still amazed he was standing before you even as you still tasted him on your tongue. Grabbing his hand, you cried, “God, I’ve missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He smiled back then grabbed his phone and hat off the floor. You chuckled softly as you noticed his call to your phone was still active just before he ended it.
As he grabbed his things, you quickly reentered your apartment and tried to do a five-second cleaning job: flinging dirty clothes into your bedroom, tossing old take-out boxes into the pantry, stuffing your vibrator deep into the couch cushions. You whirled around just in time to see Tyler walking through the door with his hat and duffle bag in hand.
He looked around the small apartment and let out a whistle. “Nice place. It feels very…you.”
“Thanks, I guess.” You walked over and took his hand. “I can’t believe you’re here! How did you even know where to find me?”
Tyler grinned. “Your brother. He gave me your address before Storm PAR left for the season.”
Your jaw dropped open. “He knew? I talk to that dickhead every day and he didn’t tell me! Oh, the next time I talk to him, he’s getting a fucking earful.”
Tyler laughed as he trailed his knuckles across your jawline. “It’s called a surprise, sweetheart.” But then the light dimmed slightly in his eyes and his tone became slightly more serious. “And I wanted to make sure he thought you’d want to see me. I didn’t want to just show up only to find out you decided it was better to cut all ties with everything that happened, including me.”
You shook your head. “Never. I’ve missed you every fucking day since I left, Tyler Owens, and sometimes, the hope of having this moment was all that kept me going.”
“How’ve you been? I didn’t want to invade your privacy by asking Scott and he never offered any information so…” He shrugged, not knowing how to end the thought.
You hesitated for a moment as you tried to find your own words. “I’m…okay. You were right and I’ve struggled with what happened. They say I have PTSD, but I’ve got a really great therapist and I’m making progress. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m getting through it.”
“That’s my girl,” Tyler whispered. He brushed a stray piece of hair off your face. “I’m just so sorry any of this happened. And I’m so sorry I couldn’t—”
“No,” you cut him off. “I told you before, Ty, I’m only alive because of what you did. So you’re not allowed to blame yourself for anything that happened. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He started to say something else, but it was just off by a large yawn. Suddenly realizing your manners (you didn’t have the same instinctual courtesy as Tyler did apparently), you took his hand and led him to the couch. “Oh god, I’m such a bad host. Do you want anything to eat or drink? I’ve still got a little spaghetti leftover from dinner or we can order something.”
Tyler smiled as he allowed you to drag him across the room. “No thanks, sweetheart. I grabbed something at the airport.”
You stopped. “Wait, you came straight from the airport?”
“Yeah, so?”
“No wonder you seemed tired! Do you want to lay down? Or take a shower or something? And—” Another sobering thought just occurred to you. “A-and how long are you planning on staying?”
Tyler squeezed your hand. “I can leave whenever you want me to but I have about a month before I have to be back to Arkansas. Everything else I can do from here or by talking with the crew.”
“A month?” Your heart fluttered in your chest. “I get you for a whole month?”
“Or until you’re sick of me.”
“Not gonna happen.” You pulled Tyler down for another kiss.
When you parted, Tyler sighed, “Now that you mentioned it though, I do think I’d like to take a shower if that’s alright. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, of course.” You tucked into the other room and grabbed a towel. Then you flipped on the light in the bathroom. “Soaps in the shower and if you need anything else, just call.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” He kissed you on the forehead then ducked into the bathroom. “I’ll just be a minute.”
When he went to take a shower and wash off all his travel funk, you settled onto the couch. You quickly shot Scott a strongly worded text about him keeping this from you…but then added a thank you at the end for helping Tyler get to you.
Since the shower was still on, you pulled up the Wrangler’s YouTube channel on your iPad to watch a few of the videos you missed. It’s great seeing the whole crew again, but you noticed there was a significant change in their demeanor. They weren’t as energetic or wild as usual, especially Tyler. He was still putting on a show, but you could tell it was forced.
Surprisingly, seeing the storm didn’t bother you in the slightest. Maybe it was the fact you always felt safe within Tyler’s truck. Or maybe it was because it was just a video and you knew it couldn’t hurt you. Or maybe it was just because Tyler was in the other room and you knew you were safe. But at least that was one goal marked off your therapy list.
As the video began to wind down, you began scrolling for another to click on when you heard Tyler giving his send-off. “As always, if you feel it, chase it! And, sweetheart—” Your eyes grew wide and you quickly scrolled to the top of the screen to see Tyler staring deeply into the camera, as if he were staring into your soul “—if you’re watching this, I love you. And I miss you so damn much.” He blew a kiss to the screen and the video ended.
Stunned, you stared at the frozen image of the man you loved, his lips still puckered in his kiss for you. Quickly, you clicked on the next video and jumped to the very end. Tyler was saying something about getting a stronger balloon string next time, then he smiled at the camera and added, “Whether you ever see this or not, I love you, sweetheart. I hope you’re doing okay.”
You quickly clicked on the next one and skipped to the end. Tyler stood outside the truck with his hands on his hips, staring up at the now clear blue sky. Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, he sighed and choked out, “Goddamn, you would have loved this one, sweetheart. Chases like this just aren’t the same without you next to me. I love you.”
You go through almost every video the Wranglers posted since you left. Even and every one of them ended with some variation of Tyler saying he loved you. With your heart nearly bursting, you played the last video, the one they posted yesterday as their final chase of the season. It showed Tyler grinning into the camera so wide his dimples were on clear display as he said, “I love you, sweetheart, and it’s finally time I chased ya. See you soon, my brave, beautiful girl.”
The iPad tumbled to the floor. All this time you had been so afraid Tyler wouldn’t come that you had avoided his videos. Yet, if you had just trusted him to keep his word, you would have known from day one not to doubt him or his feelings towards you.
Standing, you stepped over the iPad and walked over to the bathroom. You heard the shower still running but you didn’t even knock before you turned the handle and went in. Tyler was rubbing soap all over his defined chest as you pulled the curtain back. He froze, not seemingly bothered by your intrusion, just confused.
He gave you a moment to explain what was happening, but when you didn’t speak, he asked, “Hey, is everything okay?”
Without removing your clothes, you stepped into the shower. As water poured over your head, soaking you and weighing down your clothes, you placed your hands on either side of Tyler’s face.
As he stared at you, concern etched on his face, you whispered, “I love you, too, Ty. And even if we have to do long distance for a while or make some big life decisions moving forward, I’m all in. For as long as you’ll have me.”
Tyler’s face softened and he tilted his face to kiss your palm. Then, he slid his arms around you, drawing you into his bare, soapy chest. Your arms wrapped around him as you rested your cheek against his tattoo while he stroked the nearly identical one on your back. And as he kissed the top of your head, he murmured, “Well, you better get comfortable, sweetheart. Because I’m never letting you go again.”
The two of you stood there embraced in each other’s arms underneath the spray until the water grew cold. And even then, you only separated long enough to strip off your clothes, both dry off, and for you to lead him into the bedroom. There, you lay on the bed facing each other and snuggled tightly together. There would be time for more rigorous and exciting bedroom activities later. Right now, you just savored the sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of his skin.
You had gone to Oklahoma to find your brother. When that went south, you had sought out revenge. But it turned out you found something sweeter—you found the love of your life.
And now, you intended to spend the rest of your life in his arms.
Thank you to everyone who has read, reblogged, and commented throughout this series. Your support and love along the way has kept me motivated and excited to continue this series 💞 While the series may be over, I am more than happy to return to this world and its characters with one-shots and headcanons if desired. I pretty much have their entire future planned out in my head 😂 So if anyone is ever missing them, feel free to send me an ask or question about Tyler and Reader's future after the end of this story.
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Jealous Baldwin IV x reader
♧ Mine Only - King Baldwin x Reader ♧
♧ Angst ♧
A/N: Hello Anon, I hope this is what you had in mind. As per your request, he is not wearing a mask in this one! I hope you like it. As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figgures. Enjoy!
P.S: Sorry that it's a little short, I just thought that it wrapped up nicely as this 😊 Also this has a desctiption of y/n
TW: Leprosy
Baldwin the fourth was never an overly jealous man.
Envy was one of the most deadly sins, and he stuck by that ideology with many things. But when it came to his queen? His jealousy was nothing short of violent passion.
Nothing enraged him more than seeing other men stare at his beloved y/n as if she was some object. Whether it be knights or royal officials themselves, his feelings on the issue remained consistent.
Baldwin knew of his wife's shining, yet modest, beauty and never wanted to hide it, forcing her to cover herself with a veil like some husbands would. He allowed her beauty to be seen by the world, but that did not mean that the prying eyes of others never enraged him.
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It was a warm summer evening. The sun was low in the sky when Balian of Ibelin came to meet with the king for a second time.
Baldwin was reclined on a soft couch alongside his wife, who sat next to him with her head on his shoulder. The two were enjoying the sun set over the kingdom on the royal balcony and were not predicting company at the time, so Balian’s arrival was unexpected.
“Your majesties” he greeted in a low voice. Until this point, Balian had never been formally acquainted with the queen of Jerusalem, but he had heard through the not so subtle whispers of other knights that she was extremely beautiful.
He noticed first the absence of the king's mask. Instead, bandages covered the middle section of his face, leaving only his eyes, forehead and mouth exposed. This was a shock to him, his appearance was nowhere near as awful as he had expected. He had also not expected the absence of the king's veil to reveal blonde curls that framed his face nicely. For a moment he caught himself wondering about what he would look like without the disease. When his eyes shifted from the king to the young queen, he was taken aback greatly.
He had heard the rumors but they did her no justice. She was gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. She had long wavy dark hair, smooth caramel tan skin, and wore white robes that constrasted against her hair. He couldn't help but let his eyes linger on her a little longer than they probably should have.
Balian was brought back to reality by Baldwin clearing his throat in a passive way. “What brings you here at this time Balian?” the king asked, a hint of malice in his usally calm voice.
“Oh, um. I was hoping to seek your advice on a few things” he stumbled over his words before glancing over at y/n then back to the king. An obvious scowl formed on Baldwin’s face, “very well”. He replied coldly, no longer attempting to hide the malice in his voice.
He kissed his wife on the cheek gently before standing to follow Bailan inside. Once her husband was out of sight, y/n sat back and grinned. She adored it when he was jealous.
Bailan’s gaze was just the same as every other man that looked at her, minus the poor attempt at a seductive smirk, like most knights tried. Unlike theirs, Baldwin’s gaze was one of love and adoration. Nothing in the world compared to the way he looked at her.
She wished that he knew how deeply she felt about this but no matter how many times she told him that no man could make her feel as special as he did, he still felt anger rise in his chest whenever another man even so much as glanced in her direction. He just couldn't help it. And she loved it. It made her feel protected.
She already felt protected around Baldwin, but just knowing that he was willing to stand against another for so much as looking at her, despite his declining health, made her happy.
Y/n took a sip of her wine and sighed contently, staring into the distance. It was not long before the king returned.
The expression of contempt on his face melted away as soon as he saw her. She chuckled as he sat down. “Someones jealous,” she taunted, running a hand through his hair. Baldwin smiled at her remark. “Yes yes, I know. I just don’t appreciate prying eyes on my beautiful queen” he put his head back and stared lovingly into her eyes.
Y/n continued to stroke her husband's hair as he told her what he and Bailan had discussed inside.
“Did you tell him off for looking at me?” y/n chuckled, half joking. “In fact I did,” Baldwin replied with a smirk. The young queen grinned and rolled her eyes, nudging his shoulder playfully. “You do not have to do such things my love, my heart is yours and nobody else's” she poked his chest with her index finger.
“I know, I just want to make sure others know that also” he said, taking her hand in his. “All I said was that ‘I don't appreciate people looking at my wife like she is something to be touched’ that is all my love. I did not hurt the man”.
Y/n shook her head with a smile. “Lets just say, I would not be opposed to you doing so” she smirked slightly, putting her head up just enough to look at him.
Baldwin raised his eyebrows at that. “Well I can assure you that if it was not for my health, I would do so” he said softly. “That is all I need to know” y/n kissed his cheek as she said that, returning to her original position, resting against his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist and placed his head ontop of hers.
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