#i do love the idea of two divorced people having a fling to cope it's really funny

[urayuli]

Hear me out; Oakdraki.

they made out while drunk once. the memory haunts them

[xanofficial]

well hello again friends, it’s madi back at it again with another muse--- this is xan park, the lead dancer and lead rapper of kdi!! i’ll drop his profile here, and i haven’t had time to put together a formal connections page but i’ll leave some ideas under the cut with his background and get around to the connections page later--- feel free to message me for plots or drop a like on this post and i’ll throw this lil meme boi @ ya!!

˗ˏˋ ( kevin moon. twenty one. cismale. he/him. ) alexander 'xan' park is a 98 liner + has been at so!ar entertainment for five years. they are the lead dancer + lead rapper in the group kdi. they are known by their fans to be playful, hard working + understanding but they can also be naive, annoying + oblivious. i hope that they can make it in this industry.

background// --tw: child abuse, neglect

xan was born alexander park in toronto, canada and he’s the youngest of four children

his parents divorced when he was only two years old, and xan and his brother were sent to live with his father while their two sisters lived with his mother

their father, however, took the divorce hard and turned to alcohol to cope, at which point he slowly became less and less fit to be a father, always forgetting to pick xan and his brother up from school, leaving them home alone over long periods of time

but they loved their father, so the two brothers made a pact not to tell their mother about what he was doing when they saw her because they knew she’d be able to get the law on her side and take custody of the two boys

it wasn’t until they were both in high school that their father’s addiction became violent, and as his older brother felt the need to protect him and ended up taking most of the beatings, xan considered the idea of breaking their pact multiple times and calling their mother about it, no matter how many times his brother told him not to, that they only had a few more years left in this town, that they’d be fine

by the time xan’s brother graduated high school he couldn’t take it anymore, which xan found completely understandable, but the fact that he left him to finish high school in canada with their father while he left to take on a fancy new job in korea left xan feeling more alone than ever

he endured his last years in toronto simply staying out late to avoid his father at all costs and ended up joining a dance crew where he learned to project his anger into something productive and fell in love with dance

when he brought up his brother’s occupation, his crew encouraged him to audition for so!ar for the prospect of becoming a backup dancer so that he could leave toronto to live with his brother in seoul

during the audition process, however, the staff fell in love with his distinct voice and offered to initiate him as a trainee if he was willing to learn how to rap

the training process was rough, especially since he couldn’t speak korean well enough to communicate with ease, but he stuck through it if only because he knew if he were to quit or get kicked out, he’d either have to move back to canada or rely on his brother to be able to live in seoul, and he really didn’t want to put that kind of responsibility on him

fun facts//

look at him now!! the lead dancer and lead rapper of kdi hell yea fam!!!!

his vc is lee felix so voice as deep as the ocean y’all

he’s really just a whole meme boi, recites vines and does fckin fortnite dances at every chance he gets ( his personality inspirations are kevin moon and lee felix what more do y’all expect )

he can’t stay serious for one minute unless it’s for practice or a performance, otherwise he’ll burst into laughter at every little thing, be warned

still, he’s a hardworking lil bub, he’s tried his hand in writing lyrics but his lacking korean skills really inhibit those abilities--- he does, however, contribute a little bit of his own choreography

he’s pansexual, and not only that but he falls in love like multiple times a day with so many different people, this boy is just out here with his heart on his sleeve ready to be broken

wanted connections//

foreign!! line!! shenanigans!!!!

other crackhead kdi members to be crackheads on vlive with

someone from a senior group who treats him like a little brother

someone from a senior group who finds him to be really fcking annoying but xan just cannot take a hint and leave them alone

a staff member who can’t stand him

puppy crushes!!!!!!!! bonus points if they confuse each other when they’re flirting bc of the use of idioms in different languages

ex-flings

a ride-or-die best friend who isn’t afraid to get into trouble with him

idk, anything else really!! i’m open to plotting so many things, and i’ll be making a formal connections page later on so i’ll post when that’s done as well

[7cypher]

Tied Together | 01

The last thing you needed when you had a demanding daughter and job was a divorce made difficult by your husband. Luckily for you, Min Yoongi—Seoul’s top divorce lawyer—stepped in to save the day. Well, more or less.

▸ PAIRING: Min Yoongi x Reader

▸ RATING & GENRE: PG-15 ; Angst, Fluff, Divorce Lawyer AU, Marriage AU

▸ WORD COUNT: 9,744 words

▸ A/N: Planned this fic a long time ago but it’s finally done alkwejrkwlejr second part where all the Real Action happens will be out soon!! I hope you like this :’) ALSO huge disclaimer I know nothing about law so I apologize for any inaccuracies!

Part One | Part Two

Divorces were rarely ever a clean slate. You’ve learned that through attending the trials and tribunals of family members, seen how much of a struggle and how costly everything was that plenty of the people you knew chose to stay in a miserable standstill with their partners.

For a little while, you figured that if you had the right resources and helping hands you would be able to sign a few documents and free yourself from all restraints, from the supposedly sacred bond that you and your once-loved one held together.

But things were never so black and white — not when he would never be happy unless you went through enough inconveniences to please him.

When you had married Sungjae years ago, it seemed as if things were finally falling into place. Sungjae was meant to be your happily ever after, your finalized end game to give you that everlasting affection. He had been everything you ever wanted — handsome, intelligent, charming. On top of his academics and extracurriculars that he excelled in, he had effortlessly swept you off your feet.

When the two of you finally got together in college, the label power couple had instantly been stuck on your backs and added weight upon your shoulders. You never thought of it that way before though. Both your competitiveness had driven you two forward, to the success you two so desperately craved. Graduating with honors and having scored a high-paying job in Seoul, you had hoped that you had your future set in stone. Add his proposal in to the mix and you were well on your way to the ideal life you had imagined for yourself ever since your childish mind conjured up a good fantasy of what your existence was supposed to be.

This was supposed to be the dream of all dreamers, a materialization of your imagination constructed from capitalized Disney movies and overdramatic television shows. You wanted what everyone else wanted.

Happiness.

It was a little cheesy to say aloud, but your successes had never been equated to your happiness. Seeing the despair that your family had been through, those who had tasted the highest forms of victory on their tongues, was clear enough evidence that materialistic possessions never lasted very long. Lifetime desolation buried in empty bottles of liquor and ringing screams across cold households seemed to be all that was left. Bars were raised high for people who had achieved what they had, the public’s eyes trained to catch their minutest mistakes to send their worlds crumbling down.

Perhaps you should’ve seen your own downfall coming too. Well, for your marriage at least. While your career skyrocketed and placed you on the position of a parter in your corporation, the love you shared with Sungjae had diminished and scattered like ashes, leaving only anger and impatience in its wake. An early marriage had been a warning from your friends, a warning you chose to ignore. The two of you had been too young, too ambitious. While at the time it had been a logical idea, what with Sungjae and you having been together for six years, held steady jobs, it was clear that that rationalization was not enough.

Then Sungjae lost everything. Economic instability had more than a handful of people, both low-ranking employees and higher-ups, scrambling to maintain their positions, to avoid adding onto the ever-growing unemployment line. It was a shameful place to be for those who had always had silver spoons in their mouths, just like Sungjae.

One thing led to another and, before you knew it, Sungjae had reached to alcohol to cope. The man who had once been so alive, so alight with joy and devotion, fell from his throne.

A divorce had never been on your agenda, not even through all the troublesome nights dealing with his intoxication, nor through the red and pink stains on the collars of his shirts. There were too many attachments, too many memories you clung onto. There was also that last string of hope you held onto, the one that gullibly believed that he would turn around and get his life back on track.

The final straw had been the one night Sungjae unsurprisingly returned with one too many drinks in his system, screaming about the lack of whiskey in the cabinet. You’ve dealt with it before, have a million times. But remember what you said about happiness?

You had found that in your daughter. If there was any saving grace to salvage your marriage and faith, it would be her.

However, Sungjae had jeopardized all that when he had resorted to violence, flinging ceramic plates against walls, shattering its pieces down the walls that fell too close to her. Your daughter had wept and ran with you in tow to console her.

Divorce papers were filed the following day.

Of course, his fierce character never faded. Thinking that Sungjae would go quietly had been an amateur’s mistake. He needed to have the last word each and every time. You should’ve known better than to let him slip through your fingers with flimsy documents prepared overnight. He began to claim too many things, collateral and investments written in contract in both your names, objects he didn’t even care for. But he would be damned if he went down without dragging you with him. So he pushed and pulled, demanded more than he actually wanted to lengthen the process. It wasn’t as if you could just surrender everything to him, you still had your dignity to hold onto. When even your lawyer began to grow frustrated with Sungjae’s antics, you had to call your final recourse.

“You’re getting a divorce?” Namjoon’s voice rang through the speaker and you quickly pulled away the receiver with a wince. His bewilderment was justified considering how close the three of you had been throughout your years of education, admittedly more to you than Sungjae.

After his undergrad years, Namjoon had traded in his custom frat varsities and stroll team (but not his brotherhood obviously, “Beta Tau for life!” he would say) for crisp suits in the courtroom, dick jokes dumped for legal jargon. The two of you had stayed in contact, catching up over coffee from time to time to complain over your respective occupational hazards, which included balding at a young age with how much stress you two put up with.

“Yeah,” you sighed, pressing your fingers to your temple, praying the goddamn headache that was your husband would magically disappear. The papers your first lawyer had prepared sat futilely in front of you, taunting you. After Sungjae had figuratively ripped his plan to shreds, your lawyer nearly resigned with the shit Sungjae put him through. “Long story short, Sungjae is an insufferable asshole I want to be rid of. I need your help.”

“I would,” he started, hesitance in his voice, “but divorce isn’t exactly my forte.”

“Do you know anyone who can help?” you pleaded, “it’ll really save my ass. I just want this to be over and done with, but my lawyer isn’t exactly an expert on handling problematic relationships.”

“Might I suggest a couples’ counselor?”

You drawled, “You’re funny.”

Namjoon chuckled, voice crackling with the static, “There is someone I know that might be able to help. He’s a bit of a hard ass but he’s a good guy, even better at his job. I went to law school with him so hopefully I can call in a favor.”

The relief that flooded your entire body was almost immediate. You sighed, “That’ll be fantastic. I’m really sorry that this is the first thing I’m hitting you up about. It’s a pretty bad way to reconnect when we haven’t spoken in nearly two months.”

“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart,” he scoffed, “we’re friends. I’ve got your back. I always knew Sungjae was a douchebag.” You snorted at that because Namjoon had been one of many that rooted heavily for your relationship, always shoving you in Sungjae’s direction until you tied the knot. “Anyhow, I will give him a ring. Only problem is that he’s a masochist and would usually turn down easy cases. Yours is a cinch for him.”

“Honestly, I’ll take anyone at this point.”

Namjoon laughed again, the familiar sound putting your heart at ease. At least one of you were calm about this entire debacle. “Babe, I’m giving you the best divorce lawyer in Seoul, maybe all of Korea if he had a more refined public persona. He’ll make sure you get everything you want and more.”

“You’re amazing and I love you,” you grinned, “I owe you a drink, my friend.”

“Make that two and a lunch date,” he corrected teasingly, “I’ve got an appointment in a few minutes so I have to run. I’ll call him and fax you his details. In addition to that, I will personally ensure that he agrees to see you.”

This other lawyer already sounded like a fantastic time (note the sarcasm). “How are you such an angel?” Your secretary entered and handed over the checks to sign for the day. You quickly scribbled on them while keeping your phone pressed to your ear before handing them back to her. “Thank you so much again,” you breathed, “we definitely have to meet soon.”

“You got it. Stay solid, babe.”

Namjoon was a godsend. Now, all you had to do was wait for this supposedly qualified lawyer and hope to God that Sungjae wouldn’t fuck up anything else in the process.

Yoongi wanted to cry and die simultaneously. His head was pounding with the force of a million jackhammers as he clutched his phone in his hand. He growled at the man on the other side of the call, “If he can’t pull his shit together, I can’t get him what he needs. If he can’t work with me, then he shouldn’t have called me. Tell him I won’t finish the case — hell, I’ll make sure his wife gets everything he wanted in his papers — if he doesn’t stop harassing her through every possible social media platform. What is he, sixteen?”

He finally dropped the device back into the receiver, mumbling something about fucking millenials before he returned his attention to his computer screen. His emails were piling up and his secretary certainly wasn’t doing things fast enough to filter through the unnecessary spam that kept adding onto the growing list. So many requests, so many teary-eyed desperate pleas Yoongi wished he could fling out the window.

Sometimes, he wondered why people even got married if they were going to waste more money on their divorce than their wedding. His service was costly, he acknowledged that years ago when he priced his practice, but it was a worthwhile investment.

“Sir,” his secretary knocked, peeking his head in. Christ, what was it now? “Mr. Kim is here to see you.”

Guests? Without an appointment? People really did have a death wish, including his secretary. “What did I say about not booking meeting times, Heechul?”

Heechul seemed to falter for a second, fear igniting in his eyes. “I—um, the man insisted, I couldn’t—”

“Do you humor the insistence of every guest, Heechul?”

His patience was wearing thin with the deficiency of a good night’s sleep over the past few… months. All he wanted to do was swallow a few pills and knock the fuck out, enjoy one night of blissful ignorance towards all the couples drowning his email with the need to terminate whatever was left of their holy matrimony.

“Just this one.” Another voice interrupted, this time a familiar face appearing before him. Namjoon popped into the room, smiling unapologetically. Heechul quickly scampered out of the room in the window of opportunity. Chuckling, the younger man walked towards Yoongi’s desk. His eyes scanned over the amount of work that was visible on the table. “You should be nicer to him, he could poison your coffee.”

That would be a sweet escape from this death trap. Yoongi sighed, gesturing to the vacant seat across from him. If there was anything he could do without, it would be Namjoon’s criticism of his work ethic. So he wasn’t the best boss in the world, but he paid handsomely for people who offered him quality competence. “What brings you here, Namjoon?”

“You didn’t answer my calls,” Namjoon shrugged, waving his phone in the air.

That reminded him, where was his cellphone? He hadn’t touched it in ages. “I’ve been busy,” he replied simply.

“Too busy to answer a friend’s call?” Namjoon gasped, “how endearing of you.”

Yoongi’s jaw ticked. “What do you want?”

“I have a favor to ask.”

Now that was strange. The two had only advanced their acquaintanceship due to their somewhat similar fields and somewhat overlapping social circles, but Namjoon was always too prideful to ask people for favors. Yoongi was the same, he supposed. Owing others gratitude was never particularly favorable when they came to collect.

“What is it?”

“A friend’s getting divorced, she wants it clean.”

Lord help him. Was Namjoon pulling his leg? Breathe, Yoongi, breathe. “Alright,” he nodded curtly, returning his attention back to his inbox, “I’ll hook you up with someone from the firm. I’ll send the details to you tonight.” Another on his to-do list.

“Can you do it?” Namjoon added into Yoongi’s narrowing tolerance. “I know you’re busy, but I promise this one will be quick. Her husband’s a dick and, with you, she could be guaranteed everything.”

“So why are you asking me specifically? I told you I would get someone else to resolve it.”

“She’s a close friend, Yoongi.” Namjoon’s voice softened. “I don’t want want to leave her in the hands of someone incompetent who do things half-assed.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at him, taking offense in his words. “Are you saying that my firm does things half-assed?”

“No, no,” Namjoon quickly righted, clearing his throat, “I’m saying I trust you more than anyone else. You’re the best divorce lawyer I know. She’s a wonderful person and I really want things to work out well for her.” Don’t we all. “She’s got a daughter too, I’m concerned about that. Cute thing, not even finished with primary school but already so sassy with a sharp tongue. You’d like her.”

“Great,” he mumbled noncommittally.

“Yoongi, please,” the younger pressed again, “I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t have utter faith in your skills.”

A flatterer. Namjoon seemed to know just the way to his bloated ego. Yoongi finally huffed, tearing his eyes away from his screen to see Namjoon’s pleading eyes. They were practically screaming for help, a skill he had mastered in college whenever he wanted sympathy. “God, fine,” he grunted, “if it’ll get you to shut up and get out, then fine. I’ll look over her case. Tell her to send in an official request and the documents she has so far so I can go over them.”

“You, my dear comrade, are a lifesaver,” Namjoon beamed, dimples dipping in his cheeks, “thank you so much, Yoongi.”

Yoongi waved him off, “It’s fine. Is that all?”

“Oh,” he paused, “can you drop by her office too? She’s quite busy these days so I’m not sure if she can make the time to come down here—”

The elder’s threatening glare was enough to seal his lips. Yoongi loved his friend, but he was this close to lifting the man himself and kicking him out the door. “We may be close, Namjoon, but this woman is a stranger. If she needs the help, we can correspond through emails. I don’t have time to spare the next two months yet I’m making the time to do this. If she can’t accommodate my time then I can assign her to someone else, which at this point I’m very tempted to do.”

Namjoon pouted, his attempt at acting cute was not boding well with the already exhausted elder. “Should I call Jimin in to convince you?” That question had Yoongi scowling. Jimin was one of his closest friends, bordering on winning the title of his mother, and his puppy dog eyes were admittedly one of Yoongi’s few weaknesses. Jimin was also susceptible to sob stories, especially divorces. He always whined about how Yoongi was working against it instead of for it. The kid was an angel, but if he caught wind of Namjoon himself asking Yoongi for help for a divorce, it might just be his undoing.

“My office. If she has her documents by tonight, I can squeeze her in before my eleven o’clock.”

The other looked simply shameless as he stood up, flashing a dazzling smile he saved for moments of triumph. Obviously, he was all too pleased with himself. “Thank you very much, Yoongi. I owe you one.”

“You owe me ten, better break that checkbook, you’re buying my groceries for the next four years.”

Namjoon snorted, “Yeah, like you even cook. Do you even go home anymore? This place sort of smells.”

“You just asked me for help, you don’t have a right to complain. Now leave, I have work to do.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

On your way home, Namjoon had called to deliver the good news. “He agreed to meet you at his office. Be careful, he bites.”

The forewarning was almost ominous and comical at the same time, you weren’t quite sure how to process that bit of information. You profusely thanked him for his help and promised to send him a bottle of champagne for his office. Parking your car in the driveway, you looked up to find the kitchen light on. A small part of you hoped that wasn’t Sungjae digging through your supplies for more drinks. You sighed and made your way inside, heels clicking on the cemented ground and then on your marble floor.

“Mom!” The squeal reached your ears first before you felt a heaviness around your legs. Your daughter, Mia, had wound her small arms to keep you trapped. “You’re back early today,” she grinned, front teeth missing.

“Yep,” you grinned, ruffling her hair. She scowled but giggled nevertheless, fixing up her hair. “Thought I’d cook dinner for you, little monster.”

Mia let a small groan bubble up her throat as she smoothed her dress and pouted up at you. “Does that mean we’re having pasta again?”

This kid. Such a demanding little thing. “Don’t complain,” you huffed right back, “your mother is doing this out of the kindness of her own heart. Where’s the babysitter?” It was strange. Bora was usually there to greet you when you returned, but it was suspicious that—

“I told her to go home,” Mia shrugged as if it was normal for a ten year old to instruct her babysitter to leave, as if it was normal that her babysitter complied.

“And she listened?” you stared at her incredulously.

“I gave her a little bit of encouragement,” Mia grinned, eyes crinkling innocently. Any other time, you would be happy over how adorable she looked, but this was another story altogether.

You cleared your throat, crouching down to her level, “And where did you get this ‘encouragement’ from?”

“I forgot,” she shrugged.

You squinted, “Mia.”

The little devil pursed her lips together, gaze darting everywhere except for you. “I may or may not have sold one of my Barbies to a classmate.”

“Mia, how did you even—actually,” you took a deep breath, looking up to the heavens for some semblance of assistance from a higher power, “do I want to know?” In return, she offered a toothy grin, confirming that she was on the far end of the innocence spectrum. Sometimes you wondered whether she really was ten when she was already exploiting her classmates for cash with toys.

Choosing to drop the matter for now and making a mental note to reprimand Bora later, you focused on preparing dinner. The two of you settled at the countered once the food was ready, Mia chattering animatedly about her day. It had been quite some time since you’ve had the hours to spare to talk to her. Work kept you away from home too often, too late in the day that when you returned home Mia would be fast asleep. A babysitter was usually enlisted to care for her during those days, other times your parents would arrive to help (and they loved spoiling her rotten). Sungjae? You never even attempted to count on him.

“What’s wrong?” Mia’s voice slipped through the cracks of your thoughts. Her big eyes peered at you curiously as if she already knew.

Guilt seeped into your pores, filling your veins and flooding your entire system with remorse. “Nothing, honey. Why?” You pushed your lips to curve into a smile, hoping to appease the concern dripping in her voice.

“You have wrinkles here,” she pointed to her own forehead, “that’s when you’re stressing out.”

You giggled, flicking her forehead playfully and earning a scowl. “Maybe I’m just getting old.”

She tilted her head from side to side, grinning, “I know you’re not that old. Not old enough for wrinkles anyway.”

Narrowing your eyes playfully at her, you leaned closer. “Are you calling me old?”

Mia opted to stuff her mouth with spaghetti instead. Good answer.

Min & Jung Law Firm was a surprisingly modest infrastructure just twenty minutes away from your own office. You arrived earlier than expected to the sleek glass building, sunlight reflecting rainbows off its window panes. The receptionist led you inside and instructed you to wait in an empty room. A man sitting nearby in front of a door paid you no mind, you were probably one of many in this busy place. You quickly typed out emails on your phone to clients to ensure that everyone was updated, as well as texting your secretary to man the fort in your absence.

The plan for your divorce had been kept on the down low—on the very down low—with the exception of Namjoon. The last thing you wanted was for rumors to release to the press and swaying your business prospects away. The industry was already difficult enough for a woman, throw in a divorce into the equation and you could already picture the labels stuck upon the company as if your romantic endeavors had anything to do with your professional career. You could imagine the headlines: “Divorces! No commitment, no business?” Sighing, you locked your phone when a door creaked open.

There were two voices that carried down the hallway before a man in a suit stepped out. His hair was a shocking shade of orange, almost blinding, but it flattered the man’s features. When the man spotted you to the side and turned to face you, you noticed how incredibly young he looked with the softest attributes and lips thick enough to make you jealous. He must be a great kisser. Blinking curiously at you, he approached you with a tilt of his head, “Are you Yoongi-hyung’s girlfriend?”

Yoongi—wasn’t that the name of your lawyer? You were dragged away from your admiration for the stranger to stare at him in confusion. “Uh, no?”

“Oh,” he deflated, lips turned down. “You’re really pretty and you’re earlier than most of his clients so I figured—anyway, sorry,” he grinned, “didn’t mean to assume, I got a little excited there. Hope you have a good meeting!” Without any further explanation or provision of context, he was jumping into the elevator and disappearing with the smile still on his face.

Before you could contemplate the oddity further, the man sitting by the door was already calling you and shuffling you towards the office. He paused to briefly introduce your presence, “Sir, your 9 AM is here.”

The second you stepped in, all your expectations flew out the window. Namjoon’s description of your lawyer being grumpy and temperamental had painted a somewhat more terrifying image in your mind than the actual man standing before you then. The first thing you noted was how the man looked younger than expected and, when he stood, he was definitely shorter than expected. Nothing like Namjoon’s ridiculous height. Yoongi still towered over you, especially with the stern look in his eyes that seemed as if it was shrinking you. Lawyer eyes, you supposed.

“His name’s Min Yoongi. He’s scary when you meet him for the first time—” No shit, Namjoon, thanks for the heads up “—but he’s a good guy and he’ll take good care of you. Let me know if you need anything else!”

You gulped down Namjoon’s words and shook the man’s outstretched hand. “Good morning, Yoongi-ssi. Thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me.” You accepted his offer to sit across from you as he went back to his own leather seat.

“Good morning,” he began, “with Namjoon on my ass about it, I didn’t really have a choice.” There was a bite to his words that startled you somewhat and it seemed to be evident when he quickly cleared his throat to clarify. “My apologies, that was uncalled for. The kid earlier seems to have gotten more to me than expected.” He must be referring to the orange-haired man. “I looked over your files last night,” he turned the conversation smoothly, “and it should be simple. I’ll guarantee that you get everything from the dirt underneath your house to the sky above it.”

There was a hint of an accent in his syllables, very slight, but it made you wonder where he was from. You pressed your lips together before adding, “Ah, about that, I appreciate that you can promise everything to me. But I would like to leave a few assets to him, just a few pieces of collateral that I think he could still benefit from.”

One of his eyebrows raised curiously. “You want to willingly give him some of your shared property?” He looked absolutely puzzled and understandably so.

You licked your lips, shifting in your seat. His gaze dropped to them for a fraction of a second before he caught himself and looked back at you. “He’s my husband,” you said softly, “he was my friend first. I can’t take everything from him.”

There was a twitch to his lips and you weren’t sure whether that was a good sign or not. “I understand your sympathy for him, but I’d like to bear warning to you now that going soft in a divorce is not the best option.”

“Going soft isn’t the same thing as being compassionate,” you retorted, “I’m not going to strip him clean of everything and leave him dry when I know his reasons. That would be rather cold, wouldn’t it?”

Yoongi remained silent for a beat then two. It was clear that he wasn’t a fan of your methods, but it was still your divorce so he couldn’t argue with you on those grounds—not unless it was needed. He simply nodded and jotted down notes on your documents in front of him. Your eyes roamed his office, a clean setting with a couple of bookshelves nestled to the side filled with volumes thick enough to be paperweight, figurines that were curiously colorful rather than elegant pieces. If you conjured up a stereotypical picture of a frigid lawyer’s office, this would be exactly it.

Meanwhile, Yoongi was keeping his mind occupied on both your case and you. You were admittedly younger than he had presumed—one of his youngest so far. And you already had a daughter. You were beautiful and you had momentarily taken his breath away when you first introduced yourself to him. However, you were just another woman, one of many, and another of his clients, one of many.

He might also be ignoring the strange nagging feeling at the back of his mind that might’ve indicated otherwise. A sign that he wasn’t quite used to having about a customer. The toughness that soaked your voice was a far cry from the damsel in distress image he had pinned on you when Namjoon brought you up.

Yoongi liked that—liked his clients tough, liked his women tougher.

Maybe he really was a masochist.

Shaking the useless thoughts out of his mind, he passed a few pieces of paper to you. “Contract. I make sure my clients understand that I will ensure my services until the end, and, should they choose to break the agreement, there would be penalty involved as I have invested my time and expertise into it. The same applies to me if I decide not to finish a case.”

You briefly skimmed over the paragraphs and bullet points before signing. “Done.”

Yoongi wanted to say that you were a bit reckless but kept his lips shut. “Since this is a personal favor, I will offer you one more opportunity to reconsider. You’re positive about this? The divorce?”

You blinked at him, perplexed, “I hardly find this outcome positive, but it is necessary. What do you mean?”

“I know couples tend to have cold feet to a commitment as great as this, especially since it involves their loved ones. I always make sure my clients are certain that this is exactly what they want.”

Were you certain? Memories in a stream of pictures came flowing through your mind. You and Sungjae throughout college. The nights you both spent curled up in bed, toasting glasses of wine, complaining about professors and assignments. Staying up late in the library and his bringing you warm drinks, a soft gesture that always reached into your heart. His kind smile. Then his proposal, the immense diamond and affection he had presented to you. The joy that had engulfed your heart. The wedding. White lace and roses scattered all over the ceremony hall. Family and friends all gathered for the wondrous ceremony.

The feelings you held for him were strong, you knew. But over the years, those feelings had been replaced by too many arguments, too many nights spent crying over him, worrying over what he was doing. His screaming at you that he was going to be fine, that he was going to take care of the family. False promises. His voice bouncing off the walls. Plates smashing on the ground and broken pieces of Johnny Walker bottles across the kitchen floor. Then Mia.

Mia.

She was what your world revolved around. This wasn’t the way you wanted it to end—Sungjae was no longer a man who held your heart, but a man who had shattered it to pieces. You couldn’t have his behavior influencing her future. Not if everything you’ve done thus far had proved fruitless. Not the counseling, not the group therapy, not your own misery.

Strengthening your resolve, you looked up at him with a determined flame in your gaze. The anger might have disappeared from you a long time ago, leaving a numbing sadness and disappointment that never dissipated. The life you had envisioned for the two of you was nothing more than a mirage in this finite period of romance. All you could do at that point was swallow the consequences of your actions.

“I’m sure,” you nodded.

“Alright, it’s set then. I look forward to working with you.”

Believing that Namjoon would keep your divorce a hush hush had obviously been blind faith. You thought that speaking to him about it and then proceeding privately with Yoongi had been a great idea to keep the spread of information low key and eschew complications and distractions while you tied up the last strings of this issue.

Only one problem.

Yoongi was going over the documents in the meeting room or your office, settled across from you. His sudden, unannounced arrival had caused a stir in your workplace. This was due to the fact that you never took in unscheduled meetings, but you did his. He had shown up out of the blue and told you that he couldn’t get in touch with you, this seeming to irritate him more than anything. It was most definitely your fault since you tended to abandon your phone whenever you immersed yourself in your tasks.

His presence had generated a sudden influx of fabricated stories flying across cubicles and passed over telephone calls, reaching all of your employees and inevitably you. Speculations about a new boyfriend or a secret rendezvous bounced off each person, producing a ridiculously painful headache for you. Most of the people who worked for and with you knew how strict you could be when dealing with unorganized assignments, but also knew that you were somewhat of a softie at heart—a fact they took advantage of from time to time. The thought of you having an affair was ultimately scandalous. Even your secretary abandoned the tight camaraderie to hop in on the fun, winking at you and mouthing something along the lines of he’s cute as she closed the door behind the room.

That had been a hectic morning and you could still see some of them peeking over the walls of their boxes to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man in the meeting room. They were going to get an earful later.

Yoongi was discussing your financial documents when you received a notification from Namjoon, prompting you to look at your screen for the text.

Namjoon [ 12:45 PM ]: I’m sorry

What the— your phone blasted a song that had Yoongi glaring at the deafening device as it cut through his speech and train of thought. After working with him for a week, you realized how particular of a man he was and apologized quietly before answering it. “Sorry, my mom,” you mumbled to him only to be greeted by a screech.

“You’re getting a divorce?!”

Fucking Namjoon.

“Mom—”

“You’re getting a divorce and I had to hear it from Namjoon? Your own mother had to hear about your divorce from Kim Namjoon?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the pounding in your head seeming to crescendo with her every word. Parents were going to be the death of you if this divorce wasn’t. Why your mother was even speaking with Namjoon was a curious thing as well, it wasn’t as if they were best buddies who had afternoon tea every once in a while. “Mom, please keep it down, I think your neighbors can hear you.”

Your mother scoffed, “Oh, that girl can go screw herself. I can hear her and her boyfriend every night! It’s ridiculous how loud they get. I’ve had it with their thumping anyway.” Jesus Christ.

“Mom!” you chided. Yoongi perked up at your tone, raising an eyebrow in question. You were as confused about the call as he was. Offering an apologetic look, you grumbled into the phone again, “Look, I’m in a meeting right now so can we talk about—”

“This is your divorce!” she interrupted again.

“And I’m currently talking to my lawyer about it, so please—”

“When were you going to tell me?” she pressed again as if this was more important than your actual divorce, “when you’re eighty and I realize that Sungjae has been gone long enough?”

You sighed, “Don’t be so dramatic, Mother.” Then added quietly under your breath, “I was going to tell you once it was over.”

“I’m your mother.”

“And I’m getting death glares from my lawyer who’s very, very mean,” you argued. Yoongi looked insulted at the accusation, glaring at you, though they weren’t exactly death glares. He clearly wasn’t a fan of the name you had plastered on him. “Anyway, why were you even talking to Namjoon?”

“He was worried that we weren’t dealing well with something we didn’t even know was happening!”

You were going to slaughter Namjoon after this whole issue was settled. “I’ll call you back,” you huffed.

“Let me talk to that lawyer if he has any complaints.”

“Mother, I will call you back.” Before you could hear another round of arguments, the genetic stubbornness preventing her from ending the conversation unless she had won, you quickly hung up and set your phone to the side after putting it on silent. You weren’t going to hear the end of hanging up on her, but that was a matter for another time. “Sorry about that. Namjoon fucked up and told my mother.”

Yoongi looked partly amused and partly bemused. “You didn’t tell your parents?”

You shrugged, “They let me have free reign over my own life and choices, usually supporting me in whatever I decide on. They trust me so I tend to not mention details until whatever it is is done if it’s important, including college and all.”

“This is a divorce.”

“They were cool with Sungjae but never got too attached because they were busy with themselves too. It’s really no big deal.”

Yoongi looked surprised. And you weren’t sure why? Maybe you had come off too sentimental and sympathetic. He probably expected you to be the pampered type, always coddled by your loving parents.

“Should I be offended that you look shocked right now?”

“Not at all,” he coughed, “it’s not a bad thing really. I’m just genuinely surprised. I pictured you more of the tight family type.”

“Really?” That was interesting. Though, thinking about it now, you supposed it was justified how he could come to that conclusion. You could be a dead romantic, but you were also quite realistic. Your parents, what with their fitted and full schedules, had granted you independence from day one. The two of them were even still at their respective jobs until today instead of retiring like you had suggested. Although the three of you were close, keeping things from them to yourself wasn’t a rarity. “Intriguing,” you muttered, “what about you? Are you the ‘tight family’ type?”

He snorted, “Hardly. I haven’t talked to my mother since her messy divorce. She’s out there somewhere, hopefully, probably with one of her many boyfriends. My father’s back in Daegu, wood carver, though we don’t quite talk anymore.”

You winced, cursing yourself for touching what seemed to be a personal subject.

“Don’t say your sorry, there’s no need for sympathy,” he laughed, “it’s been a while. I don’t mind it that much anymore. I check in on my father from time to time, but he seems to be managing well on his own so I tend not to pry too much. He doesn’t seem to want the help, with my being a reminder of what he lost, so I’ve given up along time ago.”

“Even if you’ve given things, sometimes things stay painful if it reoccurs,” you murmured, “and that’s okay.”

Yoongi fidgeted slightly, pinching his lips together. “It just makes it more tolerable, I suppose.” The stiffness in his posture was noticeable and you decided that dropping the matter would probably be best. Yoongi followed your lead and returned to the main reason why he was there in the first place. “Your financials are great and it’ll be enough to assign Mia’s full custody to you. As for everything else…”

“I’m not sure what would be appropriate honestly,” you admitted, teeth catching your bottom lip in wary. “I know that if I ask you, you’d tell me to just take everything.” Yoongi hid his smirk and waited for you to continue. “But I only want to make sure he has enough to get by.”

“You’re all heart,” he said with a shake of his head. You almost felt slighted by the sentiment, but you stopped yourself when you saw the teasing smile on his lips. It was cute, small, and definitely softened his tougher facade if anything. He looked less intimidating. He should smile more often. “Well,” he started again, “how about your daughter?”

You nodded, feeling your heart bloom with warmth and joy at the same time. She was a bundle of sunshine neatly tied with a ribbon of sass. You never quite figured out where she inherited all her energy and wit from. “What about her?”

“Tell me about her,” he requested gently.

Mia. How did you even begin to describe Mia? “She’s great, she’s ten. Very smart, top of her class and always getting into trouble.” The thought drew a small laugh from your throat.

His own lips twitched again in amusement. Pride tugged at your ego for having elicited one and a half smile out of him. Score. This was probably your biggest accomplishment of the year. “She sounds like a real keeper.”

“She is,” you sighed, “I’m just not sure how to break the news to her. I’m scared how she’ll respond to all of it. She’s so young, yet so wise beyond her age. A divorce is still a divorce, and I know how much it can affect children. I’m terrified that it might affect her or her future views on anything remotely romantic. I’ve seen studies on that. As tough and intelligent she is, I don’t want her to end up a complete cynic.”

There was silence then.

You weren’t quite sure how Yoongi would react to your sudden spillage of emotions and your body reacted almost instantly, a flush decorating your face in embarrassment. “Sorry, didn’t mean to just do an instant heart-to-heart.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi chuckled, looking at you with amiability, “I usually avoid my clients’ stories to keep some distance—” you were ready to apologize “—but I appreciate you telling me. I think it’s kind of you to consider the long-term effects for such a permanent decision. I’m sure your daughter will appreciate it as well. She has a great mother after all.”

Speechless, you couldn’t do anything except bite down on your lip again. You cleared your throat, unsure of how to respond to his well meaning words.

Yoongi coughed, “But, since I’m a complete cynic, I take full offense in that.”

You opened your mouth again, apology gleaming in your eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like a bad thing. Cynics are great too, I mean, you’re very pragmatic about the world and that’s very important to stay grounded.”

Your word vomit had him rolling his eyes but not without the threat of a grin on his lips. “I’m kidding,” he stressed, “it’s a joke. I made a joke. Get it? Ha ha. Tried to make you laugh.”

The words sounded so foreign leaving his mouth and, once what he said dawned upon his realization, his face colored a shade darker, the rosy hue giving his pale face an endearing glow. You could only manage a small “oh” in response, which proved to humiliate him further.

Clearing his throat, Yoongi chose to redirect the conversation back on route. “Anyway,” he coughed awkwardly, “what I meant to say was that it’s alright to give it time. You do have to explain things to her eventually, before things are finalized though. It will give her time to churn everything. She may be furious like any other child would be with a huge change in their life, but she will come to realize why you did what you did. Like you said, she is a smart one so I’m sure she’ll understand that you have her best intentions at heart.”

The burden in your heart seemed to lighten, floating the weight away with your worries. Yoongi could be blunt, could come off as a little standoffish, but you trusted his instincts to have faith in his wisdom. It was the sort of practical comfort that reassured you that maybe everything was going to be just fine. “Thanks, Yoongi,” you whispered.

He raised an eyebrow, “Dropping the honorifics already?”

You snorted, wiggling your finger at him, “You know everything about my personal life now—my marriage, my kid, my job. Hell, you even have my bank statements. We’re basically best friends.”

He rolled his eyes, turning his gaze back to the documents in his hands, but you didn’t miss the way his lips adorably quirked up on the corners. That counted for two smiles, right? You grinned right back at him.

That day, Yoongi had left your office in a flurry, realizing that he had been indulging too happily in the delicious coffee you had prepared for him that the meeting he had half an hour later slipped his mind. You hadn’t seen the  man since. The two of you were caught in the whirlwind of your professions, seeing the workload begin to build on your desks as the days went by. While Yoongi shared bits and pieces of the ridiculous clients he was working with, you gave some insight into how tiring your own employees could be.

However, the divorce was a matter still at hand. With you both having been so swamped with work, it was near impossible to work over weekdays. This was why you decided to invite Yoongi over bright and early on Sunday morning. It was the only time he had off for the month that worked with your own schedule to finalize the last details of the agreement you were to bring to court. The week had gone by in a blur and, before you knew it, the end of the week had arrived, which meant that you had to face Yoongi, Mia, and your parents.

As your luck would provide, all of those affairs bumped into each other that fateful day.

The platinum-haired man was seated in your dining room, nursing a cup of black coffee you had brewed up as you got Mia ready for her playdate ( “it’s not a playdate, it’s actual serious business!” ).

Your parents had arrived around the same time Yoongi had, the two parties regarding each other with vague interest as they stood next to each other by your doorway.

Your mother’s first instinct was to greet you with a “I’m disowning you for having kept this a secret from me.”

Yoongi had choked a little at the statement but you casted his surprise aside, far from astounded by your mother’s renouncement of her motherhood. “Yes, mom,” you drawled, “alright. You’ve made the same threat since I was six, it doesn’t work anymore. Come in, come in. I made breakfast already so get settled.”

Introducing Yoongi to your parents as a single, successful lawyer was your first mistake. Key word: single. That seemed to be the only word that mattered to your mother who immediately began assessing the possibility of his being a future in-law, ignoring the obvious fact that you were still married. Your father, on the other hand, had taken a more protective stance as he seemed to square up the lad with a stern look.

God, could they be anymore embarrassing? You weren’t five.

“This girl, honestly,” your mother huffed to Yoongi who seemed to be straining to appear relaxed. “I cannot bring myself to believe Sungjae was such a man. I thought he was rather handsome at first, both in his character and looks, but now his attitude is completely unbecoming.”

“He was a good guy, Mom,” you defended, “shit happens, can’t help it.”

“That’s hardly an excuse for poor behavior,” she scoffed, turning to Yoongi and patting his shoulder. You could see Yoongi visibly stiffen further. “Look at this man here. A world of bitterness in his eyes but you don’t see him sulking like a child.”

“Mom!” you scolded, squeezing your eyes shut before turning to Yoongi with an apologetic glance. Your mother’s words seemed to humor rather than insult him. “I am so sorry, Yoongi. My mother here does not have a filter.”

“Quite alright,” he murmured thoughtfully, expression unreadable as he hid his emotion behind the steaming cup. He instead looked down to scan over his papers again.

Your mother harrumphed, pointing her nose to the air, “We’re more than happy to cover the costs of the legal obligations. I refuse to let my granddaughter be exposed to such a toxic environment where her father is nonexistent. I’ll put my absolute faith in you, Yoongi-ssi.”

You huffed, glaring at her, “I can afford to pay my own lawyer for his services, Mother.”

“We just want to be assured that you can wipe your hands clean of a man without balls.”

“Mother! Do not speak of his—oh my God, don’t, just don’t.”

“You’ve seen it first hand,” she grumbled, “you know it’s true.”

“Mother!”

Yoongi followed the exchange with mirth dancing in his eyes. However, that happiness was short-lived when your mom directed her attention towards him again, asking him an array of questions, some leaving the great Min Yoongi looking utterly mortified. You had to banish your parents into the living room where you could still hear their complaints.

“God,” you massaged your forehead, pressing the migraine away, “I’m so sorry, it’s been such a mess of a morning for me.” You were barely dressed, only clad in a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts that were both wrinkled with sleep. “My parents will be out of ours hairs soon, hopefully,” you muttered under your breath, “and so will Mia.”

Luckily for you, Mia barely had the chance to examine Yoongi’s presence with her big, curious eyes. She was quickly strapped to the backseat of your parents’ car once she was dressed and ready to go. You swiftly placed a kiss on her forehead, telling her to behave for your parents before watching them disappear down the street.

“Sorry about the hassle, I must be intruding into too much of your time,” you offered a remorseful look.

“Don’t worry about it,” he waved it off. Funny, you figured that, by this point, he might’ve called the entire morning a waste of his resources and precious hours. Instead, the only thing you could find in his eyes was hilarity.

“What?” you asked.

He echoed in confusion, “What?”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m not,” he rejected with a failed effort to suppress his grin.

“You are,” you insisted, squinting at him, “what’s so funny?”

The corners of his lips tugged up again. “Nothing, it’s just—you and your family are interesting.”

Groaning, you reached over to grab his cup and pour him another from the machine. “They’re terrible really, but I have to love them,” you joked with feigned exasperation.

“I can see now why you are the way you are,” Yoongi stated simply.

“What? Crazy?”

“I was going for affectionate but if the shoe fits.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving the mug his way. “You’re funny.”

“I’d like to think so.” Yoongi caught it easily in his hands and grinned, gums and teeth all out in the open.

Somehow, working with Yoongi turned out to be much easier than Namjoon had made it out to be. His exaggeration of Yoongi’s character had at least prepared you for the worst and allowed you to loosen up whenever he was around. For some time, you thought that, with Yoongi taking care of everything, it would be fine. But splitting assets and property seemed to be the one thing the two of you couldn’t agree on.

It was over a late weekday when Yoongi had shown up at your doorstep again. He looked drained from work and you could only offer consolation in the form of a homemade meal, which Mia had whined about earlier because it was the most you could do. Yoongi appreciated the gesture though as he thanked you for the meal and seemed to empty the plate in a blink of an eye. You wondered if the man was eating well with how much time he spent in the office.

However, the peacefulness never lasted very long. Yoongi was lecturing you for going too easy on what you were offering to Sungjae. “Listen to me,” he hissed, anger bubbling up in his tone, “you’re actually asking me to put down nearly half of your shared possessions to him. Half. That’s ridiculous.”

“But that’s not the point,” you argued, equally as frustrated with how much he was insisting on this.

“Then what is the point?” he spat out, letting the papers fall to the counter with a flutter. “Why do you even want a divorce when you can’t bring yourself to cut this connection you have with him? Sympathy isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

You gritted your teeth, hands clutching the edge of the marble, knuckles whitening. “This isn’t your choice to make, Yoongi. I understand you’re my lawyer but I get to decide the final settlement.”

“Why did you even need me in the first place?” he rolled his eyes, “You’re basically giving him everything he wanted. You might as well fire me now and save yourself the trouble of fighting with me on something I’m knowledgeable about.”

“You’re just being difficult. I understand you know best about these things, but I also need you to understand how I feel about this. You don’t understand the guilt okay,” you sighed, slamming your eyes shut. Your head had been throbbing for the past hour, but you wanted everything to finish clean.

Yoongi sighed, his face flickering with conflict at your admission. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But I’m speaking from your side here as your lawyer, I can’t sympathize with him when you’re my client.”

“Yes, I’m divorcing him because he’s a complete ass but I’ve just about—” you press your lips together, rambling again until you were interrupted by another presence.

“Divorce?”

Your heart stuttered, your words falling back down your throat. Your eyes flew to the doorway where Mia stood, pajamas creased, hair bedridden. Fuck, fuck. You were a fool. You couldn’t believe you forgot that your daughter was asleep upstairs. She was looking at you with wide eyes, gaze glazed over with the weight of slumber still hanging upon her eyelids.

“Mia—”

“You’re divorcing daddy?” Her voice was small, her eyes looking up at you with a small waver. She clutched onto her stuffed animal, tightening her grip on the flimsy thing.

Daddy. God. He didn’t even deserve the title. He hadn’t been home in weeks and Mia was still referring to him as her father. Your heart broke for her, she deserved better. “Sweetheart,” you started.

But Mia stomped her foot down, lips quivering, “Tell me!”

No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. “Honey, look, let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? You need sleep—”

“No!” she cried again, this time with a frustrated glare, “why didn’t you tell me?”

You sighed, blinking away your own tears and swallowing the thickness in your throat. “I’ve been busy and I didn’t have time, but we will talk about this tomorrow. I promise.”

“You could’ve told me!”

“Mia, that’s enough,” you growled. With all the stress that had piled atop your mind from work coupled with this entire mess, it was as if everything you’ve been bottling up was beginning to tumble over and spill all over your responsibilities. “I don’t want you raising your voice with me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but you still have school tomorrow and that should be your priority.”

Mia pinched her lips together defiantly. Any other time, you would applaud her for her tenacity, but you couldn’t put up with disobedience in that moment. “I would’ve understood,” she pushed again.

“No, Mia!” you snapped, “That is enough. You are still a child and this is an adult matter. I won’t have you speaking to me like this.”

That seemed to be the last straw. Her eyes had been glistening with waterworks before they finally broke, her lips trembling and her small body quaking with anger. Regret immediately flowed through your system and your fury ebbed away into a deep throbbing of your heart.

“Mia—”

“I hate you!” With that last declaration, she ran off up the stairs. You were left to follow the fading echoes of her footsteps disappearing up the stairs. In the silence of the room, it sounded thunderous, like lightning had crackled down upon the household and electrified the once warm home into a cold, uncomfortable quietness.

You could barely muster up the strength and will to chase after her, your body moving automatically and carrying you to the second floor where you rapped your knuckles against the door. “Mia, please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Go away!”

“Baby, please, can we talk?”

“Go away!”

Nothing in the world could’ve compared to the pain of your own daughter refusing you. You couldn’t press further, you knew, because it was in her character to be this stubborn, perhaps taking after your own trait. You leaned your forehead against the door, hoping to hear some sign, any at all to indicate that she was okay.

“Mia,” you whispered again, quieter this time.

For a few seconds, you stood in the utter hush of the house. The hallway unnatural without the cheerful shrieks of your little one. It wasn’t until you felt weight on your shoulders that you pulled away. Yoongi stood there, face void of any emotion that you could name. He steered you back to the kitchen and sat you down, and you could do nothing but comply. “Stay here okay, drink this,” he offered you a small cup, the brownish liquid puffing up curling smoke.

You did as he told almost robotically. Your mind was numb, actions paralyzed with fear. This was the one thing you hoped wouldn’t happen, the one thing you wanted to shield from your daughter from because of this exact risk. Postponing the acknowledgement of your divorce to your daughter perhaps had been one way of coping with that trepidation, but it had happened all the same.

“Would you mind if I went and speak with her?” Yoongi asked quietly, his hand on your shoulder almost like a comforting presence if you weren’t still shaking with fright.

You shook your head, wiping away your tears again and clearing your throat. It suddenly felt so dry, as if all the air had been sucked out of your body. “No, but she—she’s a little stubborn so I don’t know if that’ll help.”

“I’ll take my chances, I’ve dealt with you before after all,” Yoongi said, his voice with a light lilt that did little to pacify your dread. So you only respond with a small nod and the man left you in the overwhelming silence of the dining room.

[1dreality]

It must have been well over a year ago now, when Liam Payne realised he had absolutely nothing interesting to say. The singer, known to most as ‘Liam from One Direction’ until the group’s indefinite hiatus in January 2016, had returned to the studio, settled into the idea of being a solo artist for the rest of his days, and promptly drawn a blank. He was, he says, just too darned happy to think of anything.

Everything in his life had fallen into place. He’d found love, moving in with Cheryl (formerly Cole), a fellow junior royal of the Top 40. Their first child, a son named Bear, was well on the way. He had signed a huge record deal with Capitol. He felt fitter and healthier than he had in years. And, yes, there’s no denying it: he was pretty pleased that he no longer had to be in the biggest boyband in the world.

‘I had a bit of a problem formulating what was going on in my brain into the music at first,’ he says, ‘because I was so content with everything in my personal life. It’s easy to spill your guts out on a ballad. But I was thinking, “Oh God, I’m really happy – what am I going to write about?!”’

More than 12 months on, the answer to that question still isn’t entirely clear. Payne’s debut album, as yet untitled, won’t be released until early 2018. There have been two singles, though, with a third, the unsubtly titled Bedroom Floor, arriving next month.

Of those we’ve heard, the first, Strip That Down, a R&B-inflected club hit released in May and co-written with Ed Sheeran, marked a departure from One Direction’s stadium pop-rock. It was also chock-full of hoary by-the-way-I’m-an-adult-now signposts: there are references to nightclubs, drinking rum and coke, driving Ferraris and having girls ‘grind’ on him. And mixed in with all that were lyrics that caused a minor stir among his acolytes: ‘You know I used to be in 1D, now I’m out, free / people want me for one thing, that’s not me’. Payne, it seems, is keen to reintroduce himself.

‘When I left the band, I felt a bit stranded,’ he says, when we meet in an enormous boardroom at his management’s offices. ‘It took time, but I know as an artist I am starting fresh now.’ He slaps the table with melodrama. ‘This is Moment One. It’s the start line.’

Liam Payne is 24 years old. He is athletically built, as anyone who has seen his shirtless Instagram posts will know, and kind of everyday handsome, in a Love Island, former-youth-footballer way. Both his arms and hands are almost entirely upholstered in tattoos, highlights of which include some thick black arrows on one forearm that look like road markings; the number ‘4’, in reference to One Direction’s 2014 album of the same name, on his ring finger; and, on his left arm, a scale depiction of Cheryl’s eye, that appears to follow you around the room as he gesticulates. ‘It’s so my missus can always keep an eye on me,’ he likes to say about that one.

He is impossibly nice. Before we meet, he plods through the office, saying hello to everybody in the building individually, and in most cases remembering something about them: that they beat him at Fifa last time he dropped by, so they must have a rematch before he leaves (‘I’ll whoop ya with West Brom!’), or they’ve surely had a haircut, haven’t they? (‘It looks really great anyway, man!’). It is the manner of somebody both impeccably raised and intensely keen for people to like him, and it appears genuine and successful.

To an extent, Payne says, the five members of One Direction – or four, after Zayn Malik left the band in 2015 – ended up playing characters over the six years they were together. Whereas the Beatles (arguably the only other group with a comparable scale and speed of world domination), grew increasingly cantankerous towards the end of the 1960s, One Direction stuck resolutely to the caricatures that fans and management assigned them right to the end.

Malik was brooding and mercurial, Harry Styles was a cool, flamboyant ladies’ man, Niall Horan was charming and laid-back, and Louis Tomlinson, who has since admitted to feeling a little redundant, was fun and energetic. And Payne? Well, Payne was The Responsible One.

‘I’ve always been a bit of an older soul,’ he says, mulling over his place. ‘It’s funny: there’s a thing on the net where the fans put what they think are our mental ages. All the boys were around their real ones, but then they put me at about 37.’

Payne admits to feeling a little daunted in 2010, when Simon Cowell thrust the band together on X Factor after they’d auditioned as solo artists. Keeping up with the other personalities in the gang was exhausting, so his coping mechanism was to attempt to rein them in as best he could, and work with management in doing so. Like the popular schoolboy teachers identify as mature enough to be a trusted emissary for his recalcitrant friends, Payne carved himself a valuable niche.

‘I was put with a group of rowdy teenagers, and when I was a teenager, I had mates, but I was always with my dad. I’d go out to the pub and chat with him. So when I was stuck with these boys I was thinking, “F— me, I don’t know how to do it.”

��When something was going wrong, I’d get a phone call. If there was an apology needed, it was me. I was the spokesperson for the band, as it were, with the press and the label.’

Along with Tomlinson, Payne shares comfortably the most writing credits of the band on One Direction songs. Over their five albums, dozens of songwriting collaborators contributed to the group’s success, but it seems nobody worked harder than the two least-heralded members. Neither was the showiest or best singer; but they kept things ticking over.

One Direction’s hordes of fans around the world noticed the assumed roles, and nicknamed Payne ‘Daddy Directioner’. He lived up to it with them, too. In 2013, on tour in Australia, Payne tweeted a message to warn girls waiting outside the band’s hotel of snakes living in the surrounding fields. ‘It’s just not worth it someone’s gunna get hurt [sic],’ he pleaded.

Two years later, he gave an interview lamenting the fact he and the other boys were being sent sexually explicit pictures of themselves drawn by underage admirers. While the rest of the band seemed to find that funny, Payne called it ‘the sad and sorry side of what we’ve done.’ Yeah, all right, Dad.

Becoming a real-life father has at least given the nickname some purchase. Rumours swirled at the end of 2015 that he had started dating Cheryl – formerly Fernandez-Versini and Cole, née Tweedy – after her second marriage ended in divorce. By the next summer, she was pregnant with the second One Direction baby (Tomlinson, the eldest of the bunch, had one first).

The couple live in a mansion near Woking, Surrey, and aren’t married, but he considers them ‘basically at that stage’. Bear, with whom Payne is besotted, was born in March, and named for the growling noises he was making during his first sleeps. So far, no photographs have been released, but he instantly shows me one on his phone. And here, I can exclusively reveal that the heir Bear is – as you’d expect of a baby with that name, born of two professionally good-looking parents – very cute.

‘We’ve only shown him in glimpses,’ Payne says, explaining their decision to shield him. ‘We don’t want him to have the pressure that me and Cheryl have, as household names. We want him to enjoy himself first and then figure it out.’

Born and raised in Wolverhampton, Payne has an unexpectedly thick Midlands accent that gets thicker the longer he talks – which is a lot. His preferred conversational feature is the anecdote, resulting in a version of the phrase, ‘I remember, there was this one time…’ prefixing the majority of his utterances, which are in turn regularly punctuated with singular handclaps of self-incredulity. It can be mildly alarming, like interviewing a young, heavily-tattooed Ronnie Corbett, but I suppose it speaks to the amount of life experience he has already accrued.

Growing up, Payne’s father, Geoff, worked as a fitter, while his mother, Karen, was a nursery nurse. Money was tight and the house small, but he remembers it as a happy one.

‘My place was on the floor with the dog, there was no space on the sofa. It was great, though we didn’t have much. Dad was in debt, but they did the best they could. It makes you dream a bit, you know?’

As a child, he had two routes to possible stardom, both of which Geoff pushed hard for. One was singing, the other was long-distance running. For a time in his teens, Payne was one of the fastest 1500m runners in the country, getting up to train before school and seconds from qualifying for the London 2012 squad. It was before that, as a 14-year-old in 2008, that he first applied for X Factor.

Auditioning with Fly Me To The Moon, since it was one of the few songs he could manage while his voice was breaking, that year he got as far as the ‘judge’s houses’, before Simon Cowell told him to come back in two years and try again. He became a mini-celebrity back home in that between-period, and carried on performing around town. The adulation was short-lived, though.

Once, performing a Justin Timberlake cover at an under-18s gig in Oceana Wolverhampton, somebody lobbed a coin at his face and managed to draw blood. He laughs about it now. These days – admittedly a largely cashless society – it’s only bras and knickers they fling.

‘I had become less and less famous. One time, I was in McDonald’s with a girlfriend and someone shouted ‘X Factor reject!’ at me. The whole restaurant turned. It was like coming out of fame. So I knew what it was like at 15, and it helped me.’

Following Cowell’s advice, he returned to X Factor in 2010 and found himself shoved into One Direction with the four other boys, eventually finishing the competition in third place, but with easily the brightest future. Within weeks, he had moved out of his Wolverhampton bedroom and into a penthouse apartment in Canary Wharf.

And six years later, One Direction had sold more than 20 million records, become the first band in history to have their first four albums go to number one in the US, touring the world numerous times, and earned a preposterous amount of money in the process. Payne is now estimated to be worth £40 million. He hasn’t been back to Wolverhampton in a long time, but he paid off his father’s debts years ago, and bought his parents a new house in addition to funding the renovation of their family home. He refers to his time spent in One Direction as ‘like uni’.

When they were in the thick of things, all the boys used to obey Cowell’s omertà – relentless enthusiasm at all times, please – and never discussed any negative aspects of their experience. Now safely out the other side, Payne is frank on matters of burnout and claustrophobia.

‘Cabin fever. It sent me a bit AWOL at one point, if I’m honest. I can remember when there were 10,000 people outside our hotel. We couldn’t go anywhere. It was just gig to hotel, gig to hotel. And you couldn’t sleep, because they’d still be outside,’ he says, before telling several stories of how he and Tomlinson would sneak out of hotels just to feel freedom, only to find themselves bored once they got out.

‘People were speaking to me about mental health in music the other day, and that’s a big issue. Sometimes you just need some sun, or a walk.’

Every stop on tour became the same. Earlier this year, Payne was asked which was his favourite city of those he visited with One Direction. ‘One in Italy with a big white cathedral,’ he responded.(The band performed in Milan at least five times.)

‘One of the problems was that we never stopped to celebrate what we’d done. I remember us winning loads of American Music Awards and then having to get on a plane straight away. It got to the point where success was so fluid. I don’t even know what happened to our songs, we just sang them, then sang some more. It was like a proper, hard job. Non-stop. I can concentrate a lot more now.’

The paparazzi and fan attention sounds just as draining. It must feel weird having a Twitter following larger than the population of Australia, as he does, but especially odd to have fans so obsessed that they’ve set up multiple fake profiles pretending to be your mother, for some reason.

Moreover, footage of One Direction out and about makes A Hard Day’s Night look tame: thousands of screaming fans all over them, police escorts everywhere they went, an unending run of selfie requests... It came to a head in New York in 2012, when Payne was walking to a restaurant with his parents and a paparazzo accidentally pushed his mother over. He was incensed.

‘I was like, “Oh, f— this. F— this s—t.” There was a swarm of them and I just wanted a burger with my parents,’ he says, unsmiling for a moment. ‘I cried my eyes out. I thought, “I can’t do this”, and really hated my life.’

He soldiered on, but it wasn’t a healthy lifestyle; none of them seems to miss it now the ‘break’ is on.

‘It’s great that people can see what we’re really like away from each other,’ Payne says. ‘It got to a point in the band where we were just playing characters, and I was tired of my character. Apart from the daddy thing, I was really loud and bubbly. There were a lot of personalities in the band to keep up with, so I had to be all, ‘Ey!’, the rowdy lad, and I don’t have to now.’

There were times when the band would celebrate hard, and in that, Payne had catching up to do: as a child, he was diagnosed with a scarred kidney, meaning he didn’t taste alcohol until he was given the all-clear at 19. Tell a teenage millionaire they can now safely drink, and they’ll go for it. He admits ‘the floodgates opened’ that year.

‘I wasn’t happy. I went through a real drinking stage, and sometimes you take things too far. Everyone’s been that guy at the party where you’re the only one having fun, and there were points when that was me. I got to 13 stone, just eating crap. I got fat jibes, and it affects your head. I have nothing to hide about it…

‘As I say, it was like a musical university. We were pretty reckless, but I got it out of my system. I had my fun.’

The hiatus seems to have come at just the right time. But before he could take a breath, Payne lurched on in life, becoming involved with Cheryl almost at once.

Nobody asks how they met; their introduction is on YouTube for all to see. Ten years his senior, she was an X Factor judge in 2008 when the 14-year-old Payne shuffled in, all mop-hair and waistcoat, to perform his Sinatra number. He winked at her, she called him ‘cute’, they bumped into one another over the years, ended up working on a remix of one of her songs in 2014, and the rest is recent pop history.

Not everybody was happy when the relationship was initially confirmed. That Cheryl was in a quasi-pastoral role when they met raised eyebrows in the usual eyebrow-raising camps, as did the couple’s decade-wide age gap. Liam doesn’t care. In fact, he can still barely get over the fact she’s his girlfriend.

‘It’s a ridiculous place to be in,’ he says. ‘She’s even more amazing than I thought. I was watching her do Fight For This Love [her debut solo single, from 2009] when I was a kid, and now we’re together with a kid. I feel like I’m X Factor’s biggest winner.’

It helps having Cheryl around to ask about business matters. Like Payne, she was scouted on a TV pop contest (2002’s Popstars: The Rivals), had massive success in a group (Girls Aloud), and then went solo with a more urban sound. She is also the unlikely possessor of the record for number-one singles by a British woman.

‘We think about the same things. She understands what my life is like. She knows what it’s like to sit on the Graham Norton couch [or] we can talk about her L’Oréal work. It’s not that we’re “a brand” as a family, but we can help each other.’

In Who We Are, one of One Direction’s seven books, published in 2014, Payne writes in his chapter that he’s ‘worried about the idea of failing outside of this band’ and declared he’d become a low-key songwriter, because ‘there would be less attention on my life’.

The opposite of that is what’s happening, I inform him.

‘Yeah, that was a point when I was scared of our success, and we didn’t want to take a step back from it,’ he says. ‘I just wanted to be a songwriter and not be famous, but happy. Then Simon and Cheryl told me this is where I am supposed to be, and I’d miss the stage. The pressure of what was coming next was scary, but they talked me down.’

The solo product he’s come up with is the sort of music he’d always wanted to make: radio-friendly R&B in the style of his heroes, Justin Timberlake, Usher and Pharrell Williams, and more informed by the rap music he listens to than the pop he’s famous for. Who knows if he can shake the ‘embarrassing dad’ brand to pull it off, but the signs point to success. Strip That Down has been streamed more than 300 million times on Spotify alone.

‘I wanted this to be for people my age. The themes are a bit older, but you have to grow up with your fans. I can’t make bubblegum pop any more,’ he says.

One Direction fans needn’t despair. They might have dispersed and almost all signed elsewhere, but Payne is excited about the idea of a comeback gig in years to come. As, I’m sure, are the band’s accountants.

But that won’t be for a little while, if Payne has it his way, because – as he keeps on telling me – he is just far too happy with his lot at the moment to take a step backwards. When it reaches our time to wrap up, he’s still at it.

‘I feel great about what’s going on in my life,’ he says, giving it one last handclap and springing to his feet. ‘I’m extremely lucky. I feel like I’m in a comatose dream. I’m like, “when did I last bump my head?” because I can’t believe this…’

Liam Payne’s next single, Bedroom Floor, is out on 20 October

[grawsay]

ok                         im just gonna say                         im holding you to your promises  every day                         im not gonna be on your ass                         but im not accepting last                       if you dont live up to your word you'll move from second to third                         then the past : im serious though                         even though i didnt do it in a serious way                         i love you from you head to your toe baby

You Na wait stop                         What was my word

me im not gonna keep telling you everyday                         i feel like im the master, you're the puppet                         we're not on the same page                                               and i get lost for words like chelsea Dummett                         everytime i see your face

You Ok can we pause the free styling                         What's my word

me no we can't pause                         when it comes to us there are no laws                         im not the boss so stop telling me to instruct you can you read back our conversation before you overthink and it destructs you                                               i feel like an old record player on repeat                         you asked me some things right before we went to sleep                         that night                         when we had that big fight                         And you brought your A game cause you're the samurai                         alright im done                         but that was fun

you So how's it feel                         Thinking back to the times when to  I was like a snack or maybe a meal                         Now you're steady saying im changing but baby it's just the fantasy becoming real                         And Your not getting all of me n u don't kno how to deal                         So I guess rn now I'll take this opportunity to tell u how I feel all the while hoping I don't keep it too real So now I'm in out of being defensive putting up shields                         Blocking u out                         And every time we fight I b locking u out                         Too often finding myself knocking u out Out of your space of being my girlfriend                         I'm running out of ideas praying to God so he can send                         N I'm never one to follow with the crowd and keep up with the trend                         So I can just cut u off and let this just end                         I'm not sure if this end I will befriend you                         Cuz I rele love that I get to call u my boo                         Kno it's not Thursday but I wanna throw back to when we're just kool N All this fighting got me sick but I'm sure it's not the flu Not on the show with the blue dog but I'm looking for a clue                         You're asking if I care  wondering if it's true                         Got me wondering if u doubt the fact tht I love you And honestly I kno to myself this is just one of them phases                         Back then u were cool now you're hot like the fire when it blazes And now I'm lost in time checking out spaces losing parts of me on some many misplaces Attempting to control time so I could put a switch on the paces noticed tht we showing each other different sides can't recognize each other like we got different faces But I'm sticking around tryna see this thru cuz I got this feeling with u is where my place is

Me You said you WERE a snack?                         You ARE a snack                         I never stopped adoring you so please remember that                         You dont always tell me whats wrong                         but always "hey beautiful" every morn                         And when i get in my feelings i wanna leave this meeting is adjurned                         That's bad on my part                         But things were different in the start ANd now all i see are fallacies   You saying i was living in a fantasy Got me questioning if you and i were meant to be Or if i'm really a priority I dont doubt you love me i doubt our compatibility And it's killing me How things changed so fast Im struggling to stay relevant but for now im last Last on your mind IT wasn't this way in the past Some days you used to miss so much you were skipping class Some nights you called me more than you were grabbing my ass Not saying i dont like that I have no choice but to fight back You dont see that we're drifting and that's a fact i could go and just walk out and say that's a wrap but you're the best i ever had It's just the change and all this locking out that's got me so mad We're supposed to be growing                         I'm tired and it's showing                         But im not giving up as long as the wind is blowing f                         I know im a bit pessimistic                         it's my way of being realistic                         Sometimes i dont understand my own thoughts like it's cryptic                         I wanna see you succeed                         i dont wanna see you without me                         and its looking like that cant coincide coincidentally                         Baby sit down and think a minute                         is the relationship in you or are you in it                         are you all about us or are you all about me?                         Without the two of us what will this relationship be?                         i wanna take care of you and you take care of me cant you see                         i cant always be there phyically                         but i can emotionally                         But you said it takes time to rely                         and i keep having dreams that one of us dies                         one of us is left to cry                         and ask why                         why didnt we give our all when we had time                         : time is a factor yes but time can't stop us                         If time is our transportation then we're missing the bus                         Im not losing trust I have insecurities                         Loving, trusting relying, opening and getting closer should come to us naturally                         and i don't mean immediately                         but once we're losing as the days go by indefinitely                         that makes me question if we will last or if we're meant to be

You You're never last in my mind and thts something u don't see In the past it was just u and me No work no dance all my time was just free And now those things are here and they got me busy Not showing u attention and affection like before to this I admit I'm guilty But I will always love u even tho I'm not Whitney But I keep asking for u to bare with me I told u what was up u said u understood and deep down I was like yippie                         Thinking u were in the same page with me                         But it's clear tht your not                         You get upset and start saying some hurtful shit and ask me why I'm affected like I'n some kind of robot Doing stuff like tht to u is something I could not Now I'm asking where is the patience u claim u got N I ask myself will this work it's clear it might not Tht particular thought in my head is like somebody pointed the gun to my chest and took the shot And the bullet is in there and damn it's hot Everyday is just another day Tryna hold me cool and breeze it through like a palm tree and sway And It seems like my positivity bugs u like a black beetle like my name was lee swae Wait his name is swae lee And yea I find myself wondering too if it's meant to be And u got some kinda of relationship agenda it would seem to me U wanna accomplish certain things with us so we can grow like a tree But baby u need u to understand u just gota let some thing be Cuz what's kool for u to give and do me not be kool to me Cuz regardless of what u see time is a rele rele big deal to me Certain things I can't just pull of thin air⁠⁠⁠⁠ Cuz for those things got come from within me where they're anything but a thin layer U said there's no one stopping me but me But I'm the biggest obstacle they'll ever be So just giving u what u want just like tht isn't so easy And again and again I've asked h to bare with me U say yea but honestly u can't take it and I can tell cuz every time u get a little more cold icee But I'm trying so hard why can't u see Now bare in mind I said it takes time and not tht it can never be So here I am again feeling stupid now asking u to bare with me Trust me we'll grow just u wait and see                         But tell me of something u kno thts worthwhile tht comes easy                         While u think In the mean while I'll ask u to have faith in me                         So yea here I am again asking u to bare with me But honestly if u can't wait for me to be who I am supposed to be I'm not chaining u down so if u want to leave just go free                         Cuz time is of essence and it's just not free cuz often time we can hear ppl say it's money                         And if tht the case I don't wanna rob u                         Cuz I rele don't wanna see us having a court case on some divorce court boo So if it's just too much then u can just do u                         But just kno I do love you

me This is not going to get easier i hope you realize You're going to get busier as time flies responsibilities are going to hit you by surprise If im alrady loosing my place in your life then what would the time ahead lies Im asking that you please hear my cry I dont wanna be with another guy I dont see you as a robot You said you would change your status and up to now you did not Stop making these promises especially if you're not down with it if one thing after a next fails how am i gonna keep believing shit You're right it's not a big deal not changing is wont make us less real but it wouldn't take an hour to let the world know that im your girl though And people start observing The things they said start hurting telling me it cause your window is left open shit had me moping You promised to show me off i guess i was hoping i tried to stop bugging you but im not coping all that bottling up it started showing how am i supposed to bare with you when you're not doing simple things i asked you to do You're of the view that you're supposed to hold back and that's true Im trying to be content and not asking for anything big thing you're acting like im asking you for a ring I know you got more to add to the table than you bring Im your queen not just some fling I keep talking and asking but you're not listening That's making me doubt I always say if you can put your dick in my mouth you can listen without me having to shout and sometimes you get frustrated and shout and idk what that's about i love you but if you keep suggesting i leave i will                         yes i get thoughts but with your suggestions it starts to build                         the last guy that keep suggesting really didnt want me to stay                         and im happy we did this today                         a civil way to say what we have to say                         i really hope we can work all this out                         but if you don't claim me and keep suggesting i leave im out

[incursionofthedamnedrpg]

Spencer Pryor Accepted! You know what to do, Macs!

Name: macs

Age: 18

Timezone: est

State an account where we can message you: this one or molly’s!!

How active you’re going to be: 6-7 bc work

How did you find out about this roleplay? i’m in it B)

Why do you want to play this character? because she’s my baby and i missed her sm

Anything else you would like to tell us? she’s sadie, essentially, just with a few changes to help me/ppl who weren’t around for her. but she’s got the same connections as she did when i dropped her assuming people wanna keep them

IC:

Preferred Ships: chemistry pls

Sample para: RFP.

Template must be filled out, please make your character 16+ (we do not accept young ages), and be sure to run a faceclaim by the main first!

Name: Spencer Pryor Birthday: 6th June (28) Species: Human Lookalike: Stella Maeve Availability: Taken

Personality

Spencer is a girl who’s been through more than any one person should ever have to go through, and she does her best to hide that fact. Even though her past tends to haunt her, she does her best to push past it, and strives to be a kindhearted individual who is always ready to help people out. She isn’t one to be pushed around, though, and she’s certainly not afraid to be the one to throw the first punch. She was given the ability to detect anyone’s species with simple eye contact by a demon when she was 18. It, along with the basic hunting skills her father taught her when she was younger, are tools that helps keep her safe in a town like Mystic Falls, though it can’t do much for her when people she cares about are involved: she is loyal and protective to a fault, and if that means going toe-to-toe with supernatural beings far out of her league, then so be it.

Past

Spencer’s parents got divorced very early on, and her mother left her father and Sadie in New Orleans before she was ten years old. She didn’t spend much time in Mystic Falls with her mother and sister Catherine, but the two siblings kept in close and constant contact. Even though Catherine was raised without any awareness of the supernatural while Spencer was taught how to protect herself early on, Catherine was the only person Spencer felt like herself around as she grew older. This became especially important after their father was killed while visiting Mystic Falls, as well as throughout the aftermath of Spencer’s traumatic high school relationship, when the loss of both her first love and unborn child sent Spencer into her first of many downward spirals. It took her until the end of college to find her way back again, which was around that time that Catherine was turned into a vampire. One frantic call from the fledgling later, and Spencer was packing her bags, headed to Mystic Falls.

Once she arrived, a whirlwind of occurrences put her in a new kind of hell, so to speak. Spencer had never been as dedicated to hunting as her father, but having a vampire for a sister took a lot of adjusting, Catherine’s control issues resulted in additional trouble for both sisters: even resulting in their kidnap and torture for weeks. After a few months, though, the pair had finally gotten Catherine’s thirst under control, and Spencer began to settle into the small town. She made friends and enemies alike, and developed multiple bad habits to cope with the trauma the town had inflicted upon her: alcohol and cocaine in particular, in large part due to her best friend with occasional benefits and fellow addict Joey Reynolds. Catherine hated Joey, and the two’s antagonistic behavior towards each other often caused strife between all three of them.

Though she went through a lot during her years in Mystic Falls, nothing compared to the pain of losing her sister. A group of hunters discovered what she was and killed her by exposing her to the sun without her daylight ring, leaving Spencer with no body to bury and a hole in her heart she thought only vengeance could fill. She was obsessed with finding the hunters that had killed her sister, and when the leads ran dry, she found that staying in the town that had taken her entire family from her was too much to bear. Packing her bags, she took off back to New Orleans to live with her stepfather, never intending to return.

She hadn’t expected Joey to follow her some weeks later, vocalizing the feelings the two had been biting back about each other and proposing that they move somewhere far away together. The two road-tripped from Mississippi to Colorado, where the mountain ranges and legal marijuana made a picture perfect home for the young couple. The honeymoon phase of their relationship was romantic and loving, but eventually came to an end: Joey missed Mystic Falls, and Spencer couldn’t understand why. He wanted the both of them to return, and she couldn’t stand the idea. They had an explosive argument on the subject, ending with Joey leaving Spencer alone to take care of the bar the two owned together in favor of the town he’d left behind.

Present

Spencer did her best to forget about Joey and how much they had hurt each other, but things kept popping up that she couldn’t help but take for signs that she had made the wrong decision. The final straw was the object of brief fling she’d started: one of the bar’s regular patrons, Charlie, explained to Spencer that she was just passing through the city, and her final destination was Mystic Falls. Deciding then and there that the universe was trying to tell her something and that it was time for her to listen, Spencer offered to join Charlie. The two made their way back to the town that had taken everything from Spencer, who vowed that she would make things right with Joey, no matter what it took.

Connections

Joey Reynolds

Ex-boyfriend. Joey is Spencer’s closest confidant, and both are highly dependent on each other. They both tend to self-destruct when they’re fighting, but even then, Spencer would do anything for Joey.

Charlotte ‘Charlie’ Morgan

Fling. Spencer and Charlie met in Boulder, and hooked up on and off for a few weeks until Charlie announced her departure. When Spencer learned of her destination, she decided to tag along, in the hopes of reconnecting with Joey.

Riley Fox

The demon who gave her the gift of detecting anyone’s species. Spencer is a somewhat darker version of herself when she’s around him, and is more susceptible to his influence. Her view of him is clouded due to her gratefulness for the gift he gave her.