#please know I reviewed this piece only like once so take it for what it is

[writingsfromhome]

Dos and Dont’s Epilogue

Part 1 / 2/3/4

A/N: for those of you still needing more closure with this story this is for you

——————————————

6 months later:

My apartment was small but it was mine and I got to share it with one of my childhood best friends I’d reconnected with after moving back to the states last year.

Today the sun was setting on the beautiful November day. I had ordered in sushi and was enjoying a glass of wine, waiting for Deanna to get back home and tell me about her date.

These quiet evenings to myself always got me contemplative. Tonight was no different—I get to thinking about my day on set and how tomorrow was going to look.

After coming back from London and submitting my video proposal last spring, I had been rejected to nobody’s surprise. But that hadn’t stopped Harry from intervening and getting me a spot on set. It became a joke that I was a ghost intern there because really all I got to do was shadow people on set and help out where I could. And it had left me hungry for more.

I started building a portfolio and networking like crazy to get on more sets. So far I’d worked on three, once as a general assistant and twice as an arts assistant. I felt myself moving in the right direction I wanted to and it was thrilling.

I had Harry to thank for that really. And just like always, thinking about him sent a pang of achey regret through me.

I’m not sure what happened between us; we kept in touch loosely after I got back to the States. Mostly we talked about my future work and getting on set but after he actually got me on set and I got busy, our conversations fizzled out.

When I landed my second gig and had to maneuver my old job with Oretta she had ultimately let me go. I’d been bitter about failing something then but now I saw it as the kindness that it was—she had let me go and I had the room to pursue this new career.

It wasn’t easy though. The feeling of failure had driven me into the arms of a depressive episode that had taken me back home to Burbank. And when headlines were made of Harry’s new dates and women of the week, I’d taken it as a sign. We shouldn’t be in each other’s lives.

But I missed him every time I thought about him. And I always hated myself a little for not being brave enough to do anything about it, for pushing him away, and for liking him in the first place.

Clearly I was a very health person.

There was a knock on the door and I knew it had to be Deanna.

She distracts me with stories about her date and how well they hit it off. Apparently he kissed her goodnight right downstairs while I’d been drowning in misery on our living room couch.

The next morning, my phone rings at the ass crack of dawn. I expect it’s someone on set and end up being right. So with a few hours of sleep and a slight hangover from last night’s wine, I pick up a large coffee and get to work.

Last night’s thoughts bleed into my drive to work. It was when I was on set especially that I wanted to message Harry. I wanted to update him about all the cool things I was working on and hear what he thought. It was stupid but I wanted him to be proud of me too.

I wonder sometimes if I should have said something in London, been the bold one and taken a leap.

But I couldn’t have.

Harry was a damn rockstar and I was still figuring out my life. I can’t imagine it could have worked. So was it just the maybe, the what-if of us that kept looping in my mind? Or did what I feel for him mean something real, real enough not to shake so quickly.

A knock on my window scares me. It’s another one of the set assistants—Damien, waving at me. I guess I’ve just been parked staring into space. Oops.

“You need a coffee,” he tells me when I join him.

“Can you believe I’ve already had one?”

“I can probably find you a line of coke somewhere on set if you need something stronger?”

“Damien,” I pretend to be scandalized. But after working with these people over the last few years it was a pretty normal sight to see. “Ease into it first.”

He laughs, “I’m joking. I know you’re not…”

“I know,” it gets a bit awkward as it usually did with Damien and I when we started joking. “I’m joking too.”

His face flushes and I welcome someone calling me over to leave the awkward.

The day passes in a blur, the art director had a last minute change sending me to a local antique store trying to source props which was part of the job I enjoyed. With my headphones in I was in a world of structured creativity.

While I look through gold frames one of Harry’s songs comes on and I skip it automatically. I wasn’t quite ready to listen to his addictive voice croon about lovers of his past.

Not that I hadn’t tried going on dates of my own. But the thought of what-if kept me committing to anyone. If I thought about it for long enough it was actually annoying—how he somehow managed to still block my romantic life.

I’m invited for drinks after we’re done shooting for the day. Even though it’s pretty late I decide to say yes. Lately I’d spent my evenings when Deanna’s out just drinking by myself and being miserable. May as well drink with coworkers.

And I actually missed having regular coworkers, like I used to have Winnie. Shit talking about work to destress and drink was one of the highlights of making friends at work.

I have more to drink than I intended, and a small voice in my brain tells me that the amount of alcohol I’d been having recently might be a sign I’m losing it a little. But I order one last drink to shut it up.

At one point I start talking about horoscopes with someone in the bathroom and she ends up showing me how to use the lipstick I complimented them on to overline my lips, and I somewhat remember signing someone’s napkin and telling them to keep it for a few years and what it would be worth.

I also text Deanna an assortment of things and try to call my sister for a pressing matter that I can’t remember when it goes to voicemail. I end up babbling about drinking too much and needing to cut back.

I don’t know what time it is by the time I’ve ridden my high but I want to go home. I huddle by the entrance trying to remember if I came with a jacket tonight or not.

“You’re not driving home tonight are you?” Damien pops up beside me. We’d chatted throughout the night but I’d avoided any awkwardness by constantly inviting other people into the conversation. But right now he has me cornered.

“I’m a very responsible adult Damien,” I slur. “I am getting a taxi.”

“I can drive you home?” He offers.

“You were drinking too mister.”

“No,” he touches the tip of his nose. “I just had a beer and switched to soda afterwards.”

“That’s cheating,” I touch his nose and he laughs. I laugh too.

“We were invited out to drink,” he shrugs. His face flushes. “They didn’t specify what.”

“Cheater,” I tease. “D’you have a car?”

“I could drive yours home? And take an uber home from yours. We don’t live too far away.”

“No way!” I clutch my purse to me. “Nobody drives my car.”

“I didn’t realize you were so possessive.”

“It’s my car!” I let him know.

“But it’s parked on the street. You can’t leave it here weirdo.”

He had a point. Damnit.

“Fine,” I hand him my purse. He opens it tentatively and pulls the keys out.

“I just need these,” he hands my purse back.

“I need those back,” I remind him.

“I know,” he laughs, his hand coming down on my shoulder to lead me out. It sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m parking it in your garage and handing them right back.”

“Good.” I nod.

I pick the music until he tells me I shouldn’t go into singing and he switches the radio to a classical station. I pretend to snore.

“At least it might sober you up.” He pats my leg before snatching his hand off when he realizes he’d touched my bare thigh.

“I don’t feel so good.”

“I know, how much did you drink tonight y/n?”

“No I really don’t feel good.” I complain.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Just hold on.”

I do, I grip my door handle and will myself not to throw up in my car. I was at least lucid enough to know I would hate myself for having to clean it up tomorrow.

He pulls into a Trader Joe’s and I launch myself out in time to throw up on the pavement.

“Are you o-“

“Stop!” I splay my hand out behind me. This was embarrassing enough I didn’t need him to see me actually be sick. “Don’t come closer just…”

“I’ll get you some water.” He calls out and walks away.

How pathetic, I think. How pathetic was I.

Suddenly I want to cry and be left alone. I don’t want Damien driving me home, I don’t want to be drunk, and I don’t want to be here in the middle of nowhere.

When Damien gets back I’m sitting on the curb of a garden bed at the edge of a parking lot. He hands me the water and some electrolytes and gives me space which I’m grateful for. He does linger halfway in the driver’s seat and my anxiety builds until I get up and head back to the car.

“Someone kept calling you,” Damien mentions when I open my door. “I picked up after the third call. I didn’t want to bother you out there.”

“Oh, was it my roommate? Deanna?”

“No,” he scratches the back of his neck. I stare at him, waiting for him to sit back in the car and take me home. I wasn’t having fun anymore.

“Okay…?” I grab my phone from the centre console so I can check myself.

“Someone named Harry? He sounded worried?”

I look up at Damien, wondering if it was a joke even though I know it’s not. He doesn’t even know Harry. His face reflects back an awkward realization.

“Oh.” I can’t get out anything more. I could be decent and tell him that wasn’t my boyfriend—it wasn’t until this moment that I realized Damien was looking at me as more than just a casual friend. And a part of me wonders if that’s the only reason he was helping me out tonight. Then I banish the thought—that was rude. “Thanks for…letting me know.”

“I guess you don’t live with him if your roommate’s name is Deanna,” he tries to joke as he finally gets into the car.

“No that would be hard,” I reply. “He doesn’t live in the states.”

“Long distance,” he nods. I don’t reply and the car goes deathly silent as he drives me the rest of the way home.

I check my phone in the silence, Harry’s texted me. Before he called it seems:

Hey is everything alright?

Y/N I want to call you, you didn’t sound too good in your vm

I’m calling you

Shit! Did I call him first?

My face heats up with a stabbing sensation and I try to blink away the headache that was forming.

I check my call logs and sure enough after calling Deanna I’d called Harry. Why had I called him? I don’t even remember what I said in my voice message.

I groan.

“Is everything ok?” Damien asks.

“No I feel like shit-“

“Do you need me to stop again-“

“No.” I wave his concern away. “I just need to get home.”

I feel bad for him. I didn’t think I was leading him on in any way and yet he had driven me home because he liked me? I decide I’d call him his Uber myself to make it even. To feel like I didn’t owe him something.

When I finally drudge up my stairs to my bedroom I can barely be bothered to remove my clothes or take off my makeup. But my brain is wired thinking about Harry, how he called me.

I must still be somewhat drunk because as I lay horizontally in bed with half of my clothes on the floor I pick up the phone and call him.

H’s POV:

“Hi,” her voice is small and tired. My heart squeezes just hearing it.

“Y/n, you’re alright.”

“Yeah sorry, I think I mis-called you instead of my sister. Your names are beside each other.”

“So you were spilling your guts to your sister then?” I smile.

“Spilling my guts?” I can hear the strain in her voice.

I let her worry for a second longer, “No I’m joking.”

“Oh my god,” she sighs. “What did I say? Please tell me it was nothing embarrassing? It had to be bad if you called me right?”

“It wasn’t bad.” It wasn’t. But she sounded really drunk for a Wednesday night and she was blabbering about drinking too much these days, and needing to stop. It made more sense now that I knew it was for her sister. “But you sounded very drunk. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Sort of. I just wanted an excuse to call her and life had given me a pretty one.

It was stupid that I needed an excuse to call y/n after everything we went through. But truth was I had tried to get on with my life after we drifted away. And I think I did a decent job. I made the missing part shaped like y/n smaller and smaller until it didn’t bother me as much she wasn’t around. That we didn’t talk.

It was weird because she was a constant for a year—whether I liked it or not we had to be around each other all the time while she worked for me. Right up to the end even as things soured, as I wore regret like a second skin and forced myself to continue being the dick that she came to know me as.

And then she left and it felt like loosening my tie; breathing a little easier because I wasn’t always so hyperaware of her in the same room or next room over, about how she looked that day or the way she smelled, the joke she made or how angry she was with me.

Yet it didn’t help that she lingered everywhere.

But then I got to have her. All of her for a few weeks and letting her go after that felt more akin to torture than living with the regret for months while she worked for me. It was worse because I had her and I had to let her go.

I thought I knew what falling felt like, what it felt like to love somebody in all their flaws and be seen in return. But then I met y/n, fell for y/n, and everything changed.

“I’m okay,” she says softly. “I’m home in bed now.”

“Good,” I want to ask her about him. The bloke that answered the phone.

“Where are you?” She asks suddenly. “Isn’t it very early there?”

“Nearly half past 6,” I say looking at my watch. “And I’m at the gym.”

“That’s early,” she comments.

“I’m a morning gym person now.”

“Watch out world,” she says. It’s sleepy and makes me think of her curled into me on the sofa as our voices dim into sleep. Then nudging her to stay over and falling asleep in bed with me. So many hours of movies gone unwatched because we were too busy just being in each other’s presence.

The thing was, I had to let her go; you can’t cage a bright and vibrant woman like her. But it hurt doing that.

It sucked being selfless.

“You sound tired,” I say even though I want her on the line. Even if it’s to hear the sound of her breathing. “You should go to bed.”

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

My breath catches in my throat. I wanted to worry about her, to be close to her enough to worry. And the want of it feels like being punched in the gut.

“You there?” She asks.

“Yeah. Yep, sorry.” I clear my throat. “I’m still here. And it’s fine. I know what can happen when you get drunk, I’m glad you left me the voicemail.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I miss you. I miss you so often I worry I’ll be stuck with the loss of you forever. And I care so much about you that I can’t risk ruining your life by having you.

“At least I didn’t have to go to the hospital this time.” She jokes. Her speech grows slower as I’m sure sleep pulls her in.

“No. Seemed like you would’ve had help though.” I comment. Fuck. I couldn’t resist.

“If I knew any better Mr. Styles,” she says. “I’d think that sounds like jealousy.”

She’s teasing me, I can hear it in her voice. But my heart pounds as she calls me out.

“Goodnight y/n,” I say cowardly.

“Goodnight Harry,” she replies. I wait for her to hang up first.

That morning, I have an incredibly productive gym session.

Your POV:

I remember last night in bits and pieces and I’m mostly embarrassed but I can’t stop hearing Harry’s voice in my head. The way he sounded when he said he was glad I left him the voicemail. How he sounded almost jealous at the idea that whoever picked up the phone could be more than a friend. I feel sucked right back to half a year ago when I couldn’t get him out of my mind.

The one thing I did know though, I had to really cut back on the drinking.

I go into work with a bag of doughnuts and hope nobody remembers last night in detail. I make sure to thank Damien and he’s as awkward as ever.

My thoughts are replaced by business and set instructions as the day goes on and I’m grateful for that.

At home I dissect the phone call with Deanna and when I’ve had enough I try to distract myself by asking about her life.

In a way talking to Harry again was like taking an elephant-sized step backwards—it felt like I was in the same headspace of wondering about him and yearning for him all over again. I found myself looking him up, checking to find new information on his life. Even when I could just text him and get the answers straight from him.

A couple weeks later as I park my car in my garage and make my way up to my apartment I get a call. It’s him.

“Hi? Harry?” I answer.

“There she is!” He says loudly into the phone. I have to pull it from my ear.

“Jeez you’re loud,” I comment.

“I need you to be louder,” he laughs. And I realize why he’s called. I check the time, it must be near midnight in the UK.

“Are you drunk dialling me?” My face stretches into a smile and it feels like a betrayal. Why did this man affect me so easily.

“I thought that’s what we did nowadays! Call each other drunk!”

“That was once,” I enter my apartment and put away my things while we talk.

“You’ve unlocked the garden door,” he continues. “And now I have stepped through. I am calling you.”

“He rhymes even when he’s drunk!”

“I write music!”

“I know,” I laugh. “Good music.”

“D’you listen to me?” He asks. “I never asked you that.”

“Mmm not really my taste,” I tease.

“S’cuse me?!” He sounds offended. “I have heard your taste and my music is for your palate.”

“No I don’t think so,” I was having fun.

“Y/n.” He says seriously. “I have heard you listening to Troye Sivan.”

“And? Are you comparing yourself with that fine man?”

He sputters and I continue winding him up until I finally confess: “I listen to your music. Just not lately.”

“Why?” He sounds sad.

“Are you drinking by yourself?” I ask. I imagine him in his living room, knocking back a few bottles.

“Yes. I’m drinking all by my lonely self. Because you’re not here.”

“Lonely self? That’s not what the papers say,” I say without meaning to.

“Y/n,” he lets out a small laugh. “Y/n y/n y/n. If I knew any better I’d think that sounds like jealousy.”

“Oh you’ve been keeping that in your back pocket!” I flush.

“Mhm,” he hums happily.

God, it hits me, what were we doing.

The line goes silent and I try to muster a positive voice to ask something to keep the conversation going but I find I can’t. I feel heavy and sad, like there’s a weight in my chest that’s pulling me down.

“Y/n,” he murmurs. Goosebumps erupt across my chest and I recall a memory of that exact voice in my ear with our hands entangled in his bed.

The ache in my chest grows stronger. So strong I nearly confess three words I barely admitted to myself.

I didn't understand it; how a man that made my life so miserable for so long could tug forth such intensity and longing.

He'd explained it to me—told me why he became what he did. And it just endeared me to him more.

Every man l've dated since, even the man I thought was it for me-Gray, never made me reach so deep into any feeling I was scraping the bottom looking for more.

He knew me enough to nudge me towards this new chapter of my life. This (forced) career change. He knew me in a way nobody else has. It was hard to let that go.

But he wasn't planning on sticking around for any of it—why.

“Why,” I start to ask. I bite my tongue before my impulsivity gets the better of me.

“What?” Harry asks.

“Oh nothing,” I try to play it off.

“You asking something?”

“Nope,” I deny.

“Just ask don’t be shy,” Harry taunts. “Y/n isn’t shy.”

“I-“ I’m tempted but I shake my head and then realize he can’t see me. “It’s nothing.”

“If it’s nothing then say it.” He pushes. He was pushy for being so drunk.

“Why did you stop talking to me?” I ask quickly.

The line goes quiet again.

“It takes two,” he replies. “To stop.”

“But why did you stop?” I ask.

“It wasn’t enough,” he states simply like it should make sense to me. But it doesn’t.

“What?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. You got cold.”

“Cold?!”

“Yes!” He shouts again.

“Too loud,” I complain.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “You got cold like…like ice. You got icy. You iced me out.”

“No I didn’t,” I deflect his accusation.

“You did! And it wasn’t enough. And I thought y/n doesn’t like me so I let you go.”

What!? I try to make sense of his drunk ramblings. It’s because I was fired from my job, I was lost and spiralling and I stopped talking. I stopped responding to his texts as much until they stopped coming altogether.

“I didn’t like you a long time ago,” I tell him. “That stopped after we talked. After you explained things.”

“Why did you stop?” He asks me instead.

“I…I was going through a rough time. I didn’t mean to but after a while I just thought it was for the better.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going through a rough time?” Harry asks with a surprising tone of clarity. “Why didn’t you let me help?”

“I didn’t want you to help.”

Maybe I did ignore Harry’s messages because I didn’t want to admit where I was. To admit that I needed his help. And I was too stubborn to admit that his connections in the industry could help me further kickstart my new career. That I could lean on him for help but it felt like cheating in an industry that liked to brag about working hard to earn where you got to. So I’d avoided him.

Jeez. I hadn’t even admitted that to myself until now. And suddenly the shame comes back tenfold. A creeping heat spreads up my neck alongside a slow squeezing of my chest as the silence stretches. I feel exposed and I want to bury myself under my blankets until the feeling passes.

“Why?” His voice breaks a little. I grit my teeth.

“I don’t know.”

“Y/n,” he says my name again and I want to cry. Because I say I don’t know but I do. And so does he. “Why are you building your walls again?”

I can’t speak, I’m so choked up with emotion and the last thing I want to do is cry over the phone to a drunk Harry. Unless this conversation sobered him up. Which is even more embarrassing.

"What do want us to be?" He asks suddenly.

"You can't ask me that," I say nervously, but the question zips through me in a frenzy.

"No you're right" he sighs noisily. "I think about you.”

"Me too," | whisper. Did he think about me when he was with all those women, I want to ask. Or was it subject to certain moments only.

"You ruined me y/n," he says it so softly I think maybe he hasn't said it at all. But he repeats it even lower and I know I didn't hear it twice.

My heart sings the same tune, and then I realize: how did I expect him to stay in touch and continue on with our lives when part of us would always be looking back at each other.

“I should go,” I try to keep my voice steady. “It’s getting late and Deanna’s coming home soon and I have to-“

“Okay,” he says but the word is laced with more. It’s okay.

“Okay.” I return. Will it be?

Silence again. The tears coating my lashes land on my cheeks and I wipe it away.

“I like hearing your voice,” Harry says.

“Me too,” I sniff.

“Goodnight y/n y/l/n.”

“Goodnight Har.”

***

I meant to text Harry after that conversation. I meant to apologize or say something—create a bridge that we can meet in the middle of. Even if it’s just as friends.

Me and him have been through a lot together, and so much on our own whilst around each other. We should be able to be friends, long-distance, pining but friends. It couldn’t be that hard.

And yet my fingers hover over his name every lunch break and bedtime. I think about him so much it becomes a permanent fixture in my brain.

And yet I never message him. Weeks go by and it stays quiet. Even from him.

On the final day on set I join some of the team for dinner and drinks. I stick to a single glass of wine and promise Damien I could drive myself home. I’d set him up with someone else on set who I noticed eyeing him with a lingering look and they had spent most of the night talking. It was sweet.

The group reminisces about the shoot and everyone pipes in about projects they were going to move onto soon. I didn’t have anything lined up right now so I listen to everyone else.

As night creeps up on us and people start to leave slowly, I text Deanna I was heading home too. After the night I spent drinking too much I’d taken to letting her know where I was and when I was heading home to make sure I stayed lucid enough on nights out. Otherwise we had agreed she would come and get me.

I step out with Damien and the girl he’s become attached to after tonight. We chat outside the place for a bit as her uber arrives and Damien points out he had driven today and parked nearby.

“I don’t know why we didn’t walk up long time ago,” I laugh and turn to Damien. “Don’t worry Damien I don’t need you to drive me home this time.”

“Uhh that’s good,” he says and motions behind me to my car with widened eyes.

“Yes,” I say with a smile. I spin around to my car and freeze.

The last person I ever expected to see leans against my passenger door, arms crossed and smiling with that smile that says I see you and I don’t care what you’re doing but I’m glad I’m here with you.

“Hi,” Harry says softly, his eyes twinkling under the street light.

“Hi?” I gape. “Wh-how-what are you…oh my god!”

His smile grows to a full grin as I throw myself at him and it’s like my mind and my whole world quiets. Like I never knew how loud everything was up until I felt the silence in his arms. Like everything would be okay because he was here.

“Oh god,” I turn back to Damien, remembering he was here too. “Sorry—I wasn’t expecting him to be here-“

“Is this Harry?” Damien asks.

I look at Harry and nod in response. Harry’s eyes flash with something as he leans forward and shakes Damien’s hand.

“I didn’t realize by Harry you meant Harry Styles uh it’s nice to meet you?” Damien’s awkwardness comes back in full force.

Harry’s eyes flicker between Damien and I and I remember that he thought there was something going on here.

“Damien and I worked together on set. Today’s actually our last day!”

“Yeah!” Damien fidgets. “It was a cool time…”

“Yeah?” Harry lights up slowly, realization dawning on him too. “Well I have to say thanks mate, for taking care of her the other night. That was you right?”

“Oh right when I picked up your call,” Damien nods. “Shit I didn’t realize who I was speaking to…” We laugh as Damien grows more awkward. “Anyway I’ll leave you two alone. G’night Y/N. Nice meeting you Harry.”

“Goodnight!” I wave him off.

I turn back to Harry with a huge grin. “You totally thought he was with me didn’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” He asks, his hand coming down on my waist, tugging me towards him. I go without hesitation.

“You’re here,” I take his face in my hands. “How? Why? When? Tell me everything.”

“I was in town,” he starts.

“Really?” I raise a brow.

He laughs, and hearing it rumble through his chest while his arms encircle me feels like a shot of espresso straight to my heart.

"Y/n," his mouth forms my name. I want to taste the way that feels again. See if that's changed too.

"You're here."

"How did you know?" I ask even though I knew it had to be Deanna.

“I have my sources,” he smiles secretly. We can’t stop smiling.

He brushes my hair to the side and it feels like a dream. He was here. He was gathering my face in his hands, hands I only dreamed of.

“I was in town,” he begins again. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

My breath catches and I can't stop staring at him; he looks even more handsome and chiseled than the last time I saw him.

He looked like something that made my heart sing and my stomach tingle.

I trace my hand up his arm and around his shoulder. I want him to kiss me, I want to feel his arms around me.

He laughs which makes me laugh but neither of us take our eyes off of each other.

He reaches up, fingers threading through my hair. "Is this okay?"

"You're always okay," | say which makes him laugh again. What I mean to say is we're okay. Whatever you want to do is okay, as long as it's with me.

"I missed you." He whispers in my ear and it travels right to the centre of my heart.

"Prove it." I respond.

His mouth is delicate as it presses against mine, whispering soft words against them. They make me ache with a hunger I'd only ever felt around him.

When he looks at me again his eyes are more black then green but I recognize them the same. I don’t know how we’re going to make the trip back home when clearly we just want to soak each other in again.

I have an idea.

I open the backseat and Harry looks at me with a mischievous smile.

“Really?”

“You’re not getting lucky,” I roll my eyes with a smile. “But I really want to kiss you indecently and this is the closest place to do that.”

With a laugh he hustles in, tossing something in the backseat, and I follow, every inch of my body aflame. He shuts the door behind me and meets me halfway.

***

Waking up to Harry is better than catching up with him last night. Because things are so much more real when they remain the morning after. It doesn’t feel like just a dream.

“G’morning,” he mumbles when our eyes meet. He looks sleepy but content. Or maybe that’s just how I feel.

“Morning,” I smile, suddenly feeling shy. Last night was all passion and fun but the reality sets in this morning—what were we? Where were we going from here? “M’gonna brush my teeth.”

He follows me into the bathroom, luckily Deanna’s already headed off for work. He brushes with me in the small sink and we can’t stop looking at each other through the mirror. Like our eyes were magnets and they couldn’t help but find their way to the other’s.

“So did you really come all this way for me?” I ask as I brew us coffee. “Does anybody know you’re here?”

He tilts his head, “a couple people know I’m here but everyone thinks I’m just taking some time before we wrap up my album next month.”

“What!” I stop what I’m doing to give him my full attention. “You’re nearly done?”

“Yeah!” He comes closer to me, taking the coffee pot from my hand. “Final sound editing at the studio up north. So I’m s’pose to be here next month anyway but I’m just here early. For you.”

I’m afraid to ask, did that mean he was all mine for the next couple weeks of November? But the moment passes and I continue putting together a breakfast.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say for the millionth time.

“Me too,” he kisses the side of my neck and helps me carry our coffees to the table. “I intend to spend as much time with you as possible.”

He answers my unasked question and I feel like I’m glowing from the inside. “Yeah well I just finished on set so I’m unemployed until the next thing I’m on. So I’m all yours.”

“How’s that all going? Tell me.”

So I do. I take him through the sets I’ve been on and the people I’ve worked with. He asks great questions and I feel so deeply seen and not just because he doesn’t take his eyes off of me once.

The conversation leads to a repeat of last night and we end up spending most of the day in bed but I wasn’t complaining.

“I haven’t done this in ages,” he says with a kiss on my head. “Just stayed wrapped up in sheets all day.”

“I think the last time I did this was in London, with you.” I kiss his chin. “That feels so long ago.”

“Every day without you feels so long,” Harry says. “I shouldn’t have let it get this long.”

I shrug, “Yeah. I think I convinced myself it was good. We were fine like that. But now that I have you my god that was too long.”

He chuckles and pulls me into a deeper kiss. He tastes like sleepy familiarity and his hands grip me in places that have made a home for his fingers. I think I was in love with this man.

“What?” Harry asks. I must have paused. “You alright?”

“Yeah yeah,” I go back to kissing him but he pulls away. “No I’m fine! Promise.”

He believes me.

We spend a few days just doing nothing but everything with each other. I introduce him to Deanna and we do dinner together with Harry in a costume so he doesn’t get recognized. Deanna finds it very amusing and so do I. Harry seems tense and I worry it’s because we’re laughing at him but he reassures me it’s not.

I know it wasn’t going to last forever, Harry had a busy life to get back to, but I savour the slow moment we have all to ourselves.

Near the end of the week, while I’m driving us out to a hiking spot Harry brings up something on his mind.

“Can I say something, and you can’t get mad?”

“Well I can’t guarantee that.”

“Try not to?” He asks.

“Maybe.” I can’t promise him that.

“Fine I’ll settle with maybe,” he jokes.

“So are you going to tell me?” I eye him as I pull into the parking lot. He had gone silent.

“Yes, I’m getting to that.” He bites his lip. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you seem a bit distant. Not from me just…from yourself.”

“I seem distant from myself?” I laugh.

“Yeah,” he fidgets with his belt and we exit the car. “Like the y/n I know is only 70% there.”

“What?!”

“No see now don’t go getting mad love,” he says and his pet name only softens the moment slightly. “I just wonder if you’re really alright.”

“Of course I am,” I bristle.

“You always have this fire about you but right now-.”

“Jeez Har, if you’re comparing me to before in London I was more high strung than usual, constantly stressed and having personal issues with my ex. And you were making my life hell. Why are you comparing me to her?”

“No I know!” Harry tries to hold my arm but I brush him off and speed away down the trail. But his stupid long legs catch up easily. “This isn’t coming out how I meant to. But even when we were together last spring. You were still you. You just seem a little sad?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I pull away from him more. “You can’t go MIA for months then pop back into my life and tell me I’ve changed like it’s a bad thing.”

“Y/n you’re purposely not understanding me here,” Harry starts to grow frustrated beside me and it makes me less frustrated sharing the emotion. Like I said—I was very healthy. “I’m not saying you’ve changed. Or that changing is a bad thing! I think you’re a lot more confident and stronger than ever before. I’m just saying your light’s been a bit dimmer in the time I’ve been with you and I’m worried you’re going through something you’re not sharing.”

“Oh my god,” I feel tears prick my eyes and I blink them away before stuffing my glasses onto my face. “My light’s been dimmer? Seriously? I’m fine. I’m okay Harry. You don’t have to worry-“

“But I want to-“

“Well you don’t. And it’s a little late to try and pry me open and dissect what you think is wrong with me.”

“Well I’ve already pried you open it’s the dissecting part that—ow!”

I’ve hit him with my bottle and he shuts up. He was so not funny.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “But I’m here if you want to talk.”

Too little too late, I think bitterly. And the strength of the bitterness surprises me. I stay quiet, not wanting to spew anything I’ll regret later. He trails behind, giving me the space I need.

Apparently I was bitter about our time apart. But I know that wasn’t entirely his fault—I’d admitted to pushing him away because I’d been too embarrassed. Too stubborn to accept I could use his help. So what was it?

I didn’t think I was any less myself than I was a year ago. But as soon as I think it I know it’s untrue.

I sigh and let the sunlight filtering through the coastal oaks and shrubbery warm my skin. Harry continued a steady pace behind me and I feel slightly sorry for getting so defensive.

I continue one step at a time on the worn path walked by so many. I’d done this several times with friends and it was supposed to be special doing it with Harry but I’ve just ruined it.

I ruined it.

If I was any lesser than in my personality, like Harry said, it was probably because I ruined things. And I was upset with myself. I feel like I let Harry go, that I failed at the career I thought I was going to spend a lifetime. I ruined the thing between Harry and I with pride, by pushing him away! And life’s beaten me down with it.

I haven’t been being very honest with myself. Because the truth did hurt. And I’ve been a wimp.

I glance back at Harry but his head his down, his head of curls bouncing at the effort of the uphill slope. My heart floods with warmth just looking at him and I can’t believe I’ve been an idiot.

“Harry,” I stop in the middle of the trail and he nearly bumps into me. He steadies himself on my shoulder and I grasp his hand there before he can remove it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bitch back there.”

“It’s alright.” He squeezes my shoulder, but his eyes are still wary. “I shouldn’t have been so insensitive. I do that sometimes.”

“No,” I rush to answer. “No you have a point. And I don’t expect you to ever stop calling me out-“

“Likewise,” he gives me a small smile that feels like relief.

“You’re right. I just don’t think I’ve sat long enough to accept it.”

His finger brushes my cheek, wiping the fallen tear. I was not supposed to cry!

“Let’s keep going,” he suggests and I’m grateful for that.

“I think,” I sniffle as my body strains to finish the final stretch of our hike. “I feel like I should be happy and grateful for where I am now. I’m actually really passionate about this new work I’ve been taking on! But a part of me feels like I’m going through the motions. And that makes me feel so shitty.”

My life in London had crashed and burned but it had felt full. Out here I was so spread apart from everyone, I no longer worked at a steady job, and the only person I had was Deanna. Sometimes I think I relied on her too much.

“I think you expect too much of yourself,” Harry puts his hand around my shoulder as we near the end and even though I’m sweaty and it’s kind of gross I let him. “I know how that goes.”

“Yeah maybe,” I brush away another tear. “I just don’t feel very present. I’m either living in the future or living in the past.”

Harry’s face twists into what I can only describe as a knowing grimace.

“Well we made it,” I gesture to the open water below us. We stand for a little while, breathing it in. It reminds me of the first music video set I’d been on with him. When we were getting along and he had seen my enthusiasm for that sort of thing.

“I’ve been living in the past a lot.” Harry admits. “More than usual.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Y/n,” he says and I turn to look at him. Right, I flush. Me.

“What the fuck did we do to each other?” I ask and we laugh. And then laugh some more, releasing a tension neither of us realized we were carrying.

We end up sitting in the ground catching our breaths again. He pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head.

“I don’t know how we keep screwing up.”

“It should be a record,” I laugh. “We really don’t know how to deal with each other.”

“Fucking hell,” he laughs.

“What do we do?” I look up into his eyes that are deeper than the forest we hiked through. They’re so full of love that I could drown in them willingly.

“Firstly I should tell you something, long overdue.” He says. He kisses me with a sweetness before telling me, “I’m madly in love with you. I never thought I could feel this way about someone.”

“Well I don’t know how that someone could be me,” I joke but mostly to cover up just how hard his words hit.

“You wound up in my life when I was at my worst-“

“And taken you even lower,” I joke again.

“No.” He brushes my cheek. “No, that was my own doing. You made me believe I could be better. That I should be better, that I shouldn’t be defined by past mistakes. I love you y/n.”

Woah. I wasn’t expecting that.

I scramble to sit up and face him. “Seriously?”

“So serious.”

“Harry,” I hold his face in my hands. It was true, something I barely admitted to myself but as I roll the words through my head it feels true.

“Don’t feel pressured to-“

“I love you too Harry. God. I love you. That felt good to say.”

He laughs and pulls me to him, and even though we’re smiling too hard to actually get a proper kiss in it’s one of the most romantic moments of my life.

“I don’t think this is going to solve our issues,” he says once we’ve dusted ourselves off and prepare to say goodbye to the view. “But I want to try to stay connected.”

“You’ve told me you love me there’s no getting rid of me now.” I warn him.

“I was scared,” he confesses. “I never told you I wanted you to stay. That I wanted you so fucking badly because I was scared you would get so overwhelmed by my life, how much is in the public eye and all of that. I don’t want to subject you to that-“

“We’ve already been papped together remember?” I raise a brow. He blushes as the memory surfaces.

“The night I acted like a complete arse yeah thanks for reminding me.”

“Look at you blushing,” I pat his cheek. He brushes me off. “But I know what I’m getting myself into Harry. I’ve worked for you! I know how public your life is. And we can figure it out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” I reassure him.

“Does that mean…?”

“What are you asking Mr. Styles?”

“Please don’t call me that again,” he groans. “I don’t want to be Mr. Styles to you anymore.”

“No?”

“Only if you’d be Mrs. Styles.”

Now it’s my turn to flush. He laughs at me the same way I did him.

“Harry I barely know what I’m doing with my life. But I do know I love you, and I want to be with you. So I’ll figure the life stuff out as long as I get to have you.”

“That’s very romantic.” He teases.

“I know,” I smile.

“Good. I’d give up the life I have now if it means getting to have you Y/N.”

“Romantic enough,” I tease.

“Remember when we realized we had been at the same Coldplay concert and-“

“Not this again,” I groan. “I’m not bloody asking you to give up your fame and money to start a family.”

“I know I know!” He laughs. “But I just want to tell you that you could. I wouldn’t mind.”

I fan myself, “It’s getting too romantic. Let’s get out of here.”

And that’s the note on which we make our way back down to our car, completely different how we made our way up. It sets the tone for the remainder of his time here.

8 months later:

“G’morning!” I wave to the front desk and walk to the elevator that would take me up to the apartment I called home now. It was spring in the city I’ve grown to love again.

“Is that you?” Harry’s voice calls out when I walk to the kitchen.

“Yes! And I have coffee!” I shout back. I couldn’t sleep last night—first day jitters that I always got when working on a new set.

“Bollocks!” Harry’s voice sounds closer. “I was supposed to do that for you for first day on set.”

“Too bad,” I push the coffee towards him on the island but he ignores it to come to me instead.

“Is it?” He arches a brow. His hands are already running up my sides and my breathing grows shallow. He never failed to pull this reaction from me. Even when we “hated” each other.

I can’t take the teasing so I lean up to press my mouth to his and the coffee is forgotten as he lifts me up on the island and trails his lips down my body. I didn’t need caffeine when I had this.

No. Wait. I had a job to get to.

“Harry,” I try to grab his face back up. “Harry, love, I can’t-fuck.”

“Sorry,” he smiles up at me sheepishly and if I could take a shot of that face it would seriously sustain me for the rest if my life.

“I can’t.” I pout.

“I know. Sorry I got carried away.”

“Drink your coffee,” I steal one last kiss. “Now I feel like I need a cold shower.”

His laugh echoes through the room. “I said I was sorry!”

He dramatically moves to the opposite end of the island and sits down, holding the coffee up to his face. “Mmmm.”

I smile at the man who had my soul and heart. I was so glad I’d made the plunge to move back to where he was.

After Harry left the States when he finished his album we had tried our best at long-distance. I was afraid to uproot my life to London again and he was willing to move out to San Francisco but I didn’t want him to. I knew his life was in London.

We tried going back and forth for a couple months. I’d invited him back home to Burbank during one of those trips and everyone had hit it off. It almost felt like the missing piece I was looking for to take the plunge. To decide once and for all I was moving away again.

The last time I moved I was running away from everything I knew because I thought it would gain me independence and a life I craved. But ultimately I came crawling back home.

This time I take the leap running to something.

I miss being closer to family, and living with my best friend. I beg Deanna to visit every time we catch up but recently she’s told me she’s moving in with the guy she’s been dating and it makes me feel less bad about leaving her behind again.

Harry decided to move his work life out of the flat to give me privacy, now his team worked out of a small office in central and sometimes I popped by when he was there. We tried to keep ourselves out of the limelight, and so far things had stayed private.

“I’m going to pick you up tonight,” Harry reminds me. “Are you sure I can’t give you a lift there too?”

“No I want to take the train,” I insist. I needed my first day to be independently mine.

We chit chat as we finish breakfast and then I’m out the door again towards my first day. It’s a cool morning but the sun climbs into the sky and I know it was only going to get warmer.

I had promised the city that I’d be back one day and this was it. I had laid down roots once before and I was back to try once more; my heart was open enough to embrace it, healed enough to love it again.

I was embracing life again and it felt like my glow was back.

Jeff keeps asking if you’re showing up to the album launch, Harry texts.

Obviously, does Jeff not want me there? I text—it was a running joke between us ever since we came out to Jeff that he hated us together. His reaction had been surprise and then resignation. He was tight-lipped about us any time he saw us together.

He’d rather you throw the party.

I didn’t miss that part of the job. Now when I look back at my old career I’m not sure how I did it for years. It was a stress I didn’t want back.

He’d have to pay me a million dollars, I text back.

I’ll let him know your new rates

I get to the tube and sit down. As I lose service I get one last text from Harry.

I love you. Break a leg

And then: but don’t get concussed or anything

I roll my eyes but the smile stays on my face. To be loved is to be known but to be loved is also to have someone else know all of your stupid moments and know you won’t ever live them down.

I send back a heart and an eye-roll emoji.

The tradeoff was worth it…most of the time.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: wooooo, friday!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Despite the unease of the king’s proximity, you drift down into a hollow sleep. The sort that is grey and empty and dizzying. When you wake, you’re alone. The bed is sparse and spacious as you lay tucked in the blanket, snug around your figure. You slide your arm up as you feel a cool graze along your scalp. 

You fix your cap back on your head, wrinkled from being caught beneath you. You roll onto your back and tug at the blanket until you can sit up. As you do, you notice the yellow beam around the silhouette at the window. The king’s hair shines brilliantly in the sunlight. 

You rub your cheek, hot from friction with the pillow. You look down at the blanket rumpled around your waist. You kick if off and climb off the mattress. There is no time to be sleeping. By the slant of the light, you know it’s due time to rise. You turn to tidy the covers, pulling them taut, corner to corner. 

You brush smooth your apron as best you can, a dent left diagonal down the skirt. You turn and glance towards the door. You don’t dare leave without dismissal, nor do you wish to break the king’s peace. 

“You slept heavy,” he says without moving, “you must have needed it.” 

“Your highness,” you croak through a dry throat. “I didn’t...” 

“Didn’t what?” He wonders. “All must rest, even the mice and meagre.” 

You bow your head and fold your hands. You stay as you are as he lowers his own head and his arms move as he fusses with something. There’s a soft tear and he brings something to his mouth. He turns and leans against the curtain, crushed to the stone by his weight. 

“And they must eat,” he offers a morsel of salted meat. 

“Your highness, it is generous--” 

“But you mean to deny me,” he challenges. “Does modesty serve you as well as you serve others?” 

You don’t know how to answer that. You press your lips tight and once more lower your chin. You wring your hands and markedly stop yourself. 

He crosses the room with slow, long strides. He stops before you. The morning light limns his thick body through the white fabric of his nightshirt. He brings the strip of jerky before you, holding it below your nose. 

“I do not trust a turncloak to feed me from his trough,” he intones, gently leaning the meat to your lips. “A king must worry about such things, but not a servant. Who would ever need taint their food, if they let them any at all.” 

You look up at him. His eyes blaze down at you, stunningly gold, like sparkling coins. He prods with the strip and you open your lips to let it slip through you nibble through the thick morsel until a piece breaks off and he rescinds the rest, taking a bite of his own. 

“It’s the last of my elk, and stale at that,” he explains, “in the hinterland, we do eat more than salt, but on campaign, we must eat what we have.” 

You chew, watching him as he turns to pace. He makes you curious. He is a fearsome man, even in only a night shirt, but he thinks overly much. 

“That summer maiden will not like the cold,” he mutters as he rounds the tub then comes back to you. Half the strip remains. He offers it, “take it.” 

You do as he bids. He watches you intently as you hold the jerky and you bring it close to your lips. You stop, “thank you, your highness. You are a generous king.” 

“No, I am a prudent king. Not always generous, not always cruel, only when the moment calls for one or the other,” he stays before you, eyes torrid as they cling to you. 

“Well, you’ve been generous to me, your highness,” you say before you bite into the meat. It is heavier than what you are used to but tasty nonetheless. 

“Prudent,” he repeats, “so I must send you away. Send you back.” He inhales, his broad chest lifting, making him appear even larger, “you have done your duty admirably, little maid.” 

You chew, making a face as you can’t answer for your mouthful. He inclines his head towards you. 

“No,” he shakes his head, “say nothing more. Eat and go. There is still a war to be won before I claim my kingdom.” He puts his back to you and marches back to the window, adding in a grey tone, “...and a wife.” 

His last words are so quiet, so dull, you hardly can discern them. He leans on the window ledge as he stares off beyond the walls. The sun rises around him, casting him in gold. You swallow what’s left of the elk strip and shuffle to the door. As you open it, you hear a sigh, and you close it behind you without glancing back. 

The king does not sound pleased with his nuptials. So is the fare of nobles and their titles. Often the very status that brings them privilege brings them just as much misery. A handmaid only need worry about her next task. 

⚔️

Lady Jazlene is far more satisfied with her imminent union. She is aflutter as you enter her chambers. Merinda watches with dulcet irritation. The duke’s daughter flits around, throwing silks and satins. Lady Rezlyn watches her from a cushioned bench, a goblet in hand as she tuts and tisks at very choice. 

“Mother,” Jazlene tosses down layers of goldenrod yellow, “if none should do, a new dress might be cut, yes?” 

“A new dress? Of what fabric? We are in wartime, dearest,” Rezyn scoffs. 

“And yet you have your reds and your citrus,” the younger accuses. 

“I need wine to steel my nerves and citrus to fill my stomach. You needn’t a dress to live. You have many and more,” Rezlyn snickers. 

“Mother, I swear you do goad me. He is a king. And the war should end soon. There must be silk to be had,” Jazlene whines, and what of jewels? Pearls? Emerald? Sapphire?” 

Merinda shifts, you can sense her thoughts and the little whispers she’s hoarding away for you. She always has the sharpest quips about the pair of ladies and their whimsies. You do agree with some but you can no more blame them for being frivolous noblewoman than you can yourself for being a simple maid. 

Jazlene continues her storm around the chamber. Her nerves are contagious, you can feel a similar stirring in your gut. Perhaps she realises the same as you do. All she knows is about to change irrevocably. 

You try to think of what it will be like when she is married. She must have the same thoughts. You can’t quite picture it. Geralt sitting where Rezlyn does, perhaps he too holds a goblet, Jazlene rambling over her skirts and gems and all the things she wants. You don’t imagine he’d listen for long. Then again, you don’t know the king at all. Not enough to presume you would know. 

Lady Jazlene puts a string of rubies around her neck and preens in the mirror. She points to you then her hair. You come forward and set to pinning her hair. Lady Rezlyn rises and you peek at her in the mirror. She scowls at her wine. 

“Enough fussing, your father wishes us to see the king to break our fast,” the elder holds out her goblet and Merinda comes forward to take it. “And I need more wine.” 

Jazlene shoos you away and stands. She hangs her shoulders and drags her feet, “mother, I will be a queen soon. You cannot order me around so.” 

“Not as yet,” Rezlyn warns, “you have much to learn of being a wife before you worry so much of queendom.” 

Jazlene huffs and pushes her shoulders back. She looks at her reflection once more, posing and posturing. She curves her lips in a wry smirk. 

“Queendom,” she trills, “oh mother.” 

“Yes, yes, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Lady Rezlyn stomps over to her daughter and takes her by the wrist, “you must first think of how to please your husband. As I can tell, it won’t be an easy task, and yet he is as any man is. He is... still a man.” 

“Oh mother,” Jazlene giggles. 

“Look at you, you are marvelous,” Rezlyn pets her daughter’s cheek. “He is a warrior; he holds his shield close but he cannot resist your beauty.”  

The mother keeps hold of her daughter and leads her to the doors. You and Merinda follow at several paces. A habit to keep from trodding on their skirts. The enter the corridor and tension coils around them. The descend to the great hall and to the west wing where the dining hall resides. 

Lord Dustan stands by the head of the table. On most days he would sit in that chair but he only paces around it, tugging at his little triangle beard. You rarely see him so restless. Often, he is as careless as his wife and daughter. 

“Husband, I thought we were to break fast--” 

“Yes, yes,” he waves off his wife’s words, “the king has yet to awaken.” 

You stand by a statue, just to one side of the door. You cannot see the opening around it. You find comfort in its shadow, content to go unnoticed. You wonder if anyone looked upon you, would they see your thoughts. The king is awake but why hasn’t he emerged? 

“What about the marriage?” Rezlyn asks, “a contract?” 

“Wife, if I say it is to be, it is,” Dustan retorts, “must you ever heap upon me?” 

“It isn’t my intent. I am only making certain our daughter’s future is secured. That our family name is to prosper. Husband, I ask in the interest of your profit.” 

“You ask too much,” the duke hisses. 

Before he can receive his wife’s sharp response, sturdy footfalls approach and mute their conversation. A shadow casts through the doorway and you know by the silhouette it can only be one person. King Geralt enters, unassuming in his mail and black clothes. His silver hair is half up, a braid down the back of it. He has his sword strapped to his back. 

“Your highness, the cooks are preparing breakfast--” 

“There is not time for you to sit and gorge,” the king snarls, “there is a war to be won. There is no advantage in waiting on word of your deceit to spread.” 

Dustan has the grace to look ashamed. He twitches and paws at his overcoat, “I... your highness, I would need time to prepare for my departure.” 

“You need mail and a sword. You have a barn full of horses. Mount it and we will be away.” The king insists, “my men march within the hour. We will remember who our allies were when the day is won.” 

“Y-your highness, I--” 

“That is the trouble with summer lords. You think war is played across a board,” the king growls. “war is won in blood and steel. If all you can offer me is words, I am not interested in this contract.” 

“Your highness, I will ready. At once,” Lord Dustan kicks his heels together, “you are right. My spurs are ready.” 

The king drones grimly. He sets his shoulders and opens and closes a fist. Jazlene looks at her mother then steps forward. 

“But your highness, our marriage--” 

“That contract will be met when I have my terms. When my kingdom is forged complete, then I shall have a queen. No sooner than that,” he grits at her. 

“Ah, yes, certainly your highness, then you shall have my favour to ride with,” she pulls a handkerchief from her bodice, “to comfort you in the battles to come.” 

She waves the cloth at him and he says nothing. He grunts and turns to her father. He grabs the duke by his scruff, “let’s hope you can sit a saddle. Carriages are not built for war.” 

King Geralt turns, dragging the Duke of Debray like a stray cat. The king’s golden eyes flick over to you and his jaw ticks. He raises his chin just slightly as he passes, putting his eyes straight only as the meet the corners. He stalks from the room with his blithering ally in tow. 

Jazlene presses her knuckles to her forehead and whines, “mother? Am I to wait anon for my husband? What shall I do? War, war, war! Does it ever end?” 

“Daughter,” Lady Rezlyn sweeps around the table to grab her daughter by the shoulders, “there is no use in bawling. Do not be a child. You are of an age--” 

“Of an age where I should be married!” Jazlene blusters. “How can I be calm when I am promised what I have always wanted and then it is snatched away?” 

“The king will return. As will your father,” Rezlyn shakes her daughter, “King Geralt has made it this far, do not think he will falter now. And when he has claimed victory, he will return to keep good on his promise.” The Lady of Debray lowers her voice, “do you think that your father would break his oath on a chance? That he would gamble. No, he sees what the other lords deny. King Waleran is routed. This war will not last much longer.” 

“Truly, mother?” Jazlene bats her lashes, “how do you know?” 

“Trust your mother,” Rezlyn speaks as though her daughter is no more than a child. “Your father has risked his neck to claim you a king. Do not doubt him.” 

Jazlene considers her mother, searching her face, and pulls her into an embrace. She lets out a shrill squeal and pulls back. Her cheeks round with glee. 

“You’re right mother, this is a blessing. This will allow us time to alter a dress fitting for such a wedding.” 

“Don’t forget a coronation,” Rezlyn adds coyly. 

[ilovebuckers5]

*•♡never be like you pt 2 ♡¸.•*'

nika muhl x cheerleader!reader

"I am an architect, I'm drawing out the plan. its like 17, nobody understands "

word count - 2.6k

themes :

-slow burn

-comfort

warnings :

-toxic rls

-mentions to wet dreams

-cursing

a/n - I'm posting this today because one its my birthday and two I didn't want to starve you guys for longer than three days...

the amount of stress I had walking home was unremarkable. I had been staying at farah's dorm for a couple days. she already had a bed ready and made for me to sleep in once I texted her that I didn't want to be around Asher. I always kept a good amount of clothing there too so that I wouldn't have to take a trip to my apartment and deal with the millions of interrogations I would get from my boyfriend about where I was. the thought of seeing Farah completely cleared my brain and kept me calm until I walked off campus and began walking home. the door was locked. he never locked the door. I tore up my backpack looking for my keys but still couldn't find them. I kept on knocking on the door while searching for my keys before the door finally opened. there Asher was with his hair messed up. I took a moment to actually look up and look at his skin. his lips looked puffy, and had a red tint. more red than usual. his eyes were almost bloodshot.

"where were you huh? out with another guy?" he said while leaning on the door frame, already flexing his fists. I bit at the inside of my cheek, not being able to form words. its not like I was out with anyone other than Farah but I knew that no matter what I said, he wouldn't believe me. I held my breath and looked down at the floor while fidgeting with my rings. his hand rose up to my chin, grabbing onto hit and forcing me to look in his eyes. "fucking answer me." a couple tears started to well up in my eyes. I slowly swallowed the huge lump in my throat and croaked out the truth. "I was with Farah. no one else." his grip tightened around my skin before his other hand wrapped around my wrist, dragging me into the apartment. he snatched my bags out of my hands and tossed them in my room. the door slammed behind us before he took me into his room. "don't lie to me y/n. I know you are" his eyes were sinking into my soul every second that passed while our eyes were locked. I finally almost felt his grip loosen and the moment I thought it did, I attempted to rip my hand out of his grasp but he held onto me tighter. "asher can you please let go of me." I said, squirming my wrist back and forth as it turned red. this was the last thing I need right now.

right before I thought he would continue to pull at my wrist, he let go. tossing my wrist back at my side. a long relieved sigh was let out while I turned around to hide the couple of tears fell down my cheek. I sniffed in the small string of snot that was slowly falling from my nose and kept my face hidden.

"come here." Asher cooed while resting his hand on my waist. the light in his room was dimmed. the curtain were still open but barely let any light in since it was starting to get dark. before I spun around to look back at him, I reviewed how the room looked. it was mainly clean except for a couple pieces of clothing on the floor next to his bed. his bed had ruffled sheets and a comforter that was hanging off the side of the bed. I raised my eyes up to see that the closet door was almost closed and when I looked hard enough, I saw the white sclera of a girls eyes. my stomach dropped while she shut the closet door fully. Asher was only trying to turn me around so that I wouldn't see the naked girl hiding from me. as fun as it would be to call him out and slap both of the people across the face, I pretended that everything was fine. I let one more tear fall down my face while I turned to face asher's blue eyes. the man I was looking at right now was the one that always wondered if I was out getting fucked by another man. the man that couldn't keep away from me when he thought another mans hands was on me. the boy that told me if I was with anyone else, he'd kill me. when the entire time. it was another girl I should've been worrying about.

ashers knuckle dragged across my under eye, wiping the few tears off of my skin. he wiped the tear of his skin tight compressed shirt and then wrapped his arms around my waist, pretending to comfort me and care about me. I could tell that he was staring at the closet, hoping this girl wouldn't come out. yet he still acted like his eyes were facing my back, with his head down. he held me there in his arms before leading me onto his bed, stroking my hair. if he was going to cheat on me then I would just accidentally think it was Nika twirling my hair in her fingers. Nika who was rubbing my back. Nika. muhl, who was letting me fall asleep on her chest. I fell asleep with my makeup ruined like always but at least I didn't thing it was Asher who my dried mascara was falling on.

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

the first thing I did when I woke up was check my phone. I ignored the fact that Asher was probably driving this random girl home while I laid on the bed she enjoyed my boyfriend on. when I opened my phone, I saw an Instagram notification.

nika.muhl started followed you

nika.muhl liked your post

nika.muhl liked your post

nika.muhl liked your post

damn. I mean at least it wasn't all of my posts.

i I actually unlocked my phone and texted Farah what happened last night. she called me within a second and all I could do was cry.

"hold on I'm coming to pick you up. grab asher's wallet."

farah took no time to drive over to my apartment and pick me up. she knocked on the door gently before stepping in once realizing that it was unlocked. I was still laying in asher's bed, tears soaked up my pillow case. I was wrapping myself around the blankets that was covering his body last night to try and find a sense of comfort. Farah been standing in the door way for a good amount of time before peeling me off of the mattress and standing me up in front of her. I refused to make eye contact until she raised my chin up with her finger. "listen to me. you are going to get through this. he's a cunt and I know you don't want to be with him. don't pretend like you do." she said sternly while wiping the few tears that fell down my skin. "cmon. lets go get coffee or something?" Farah wrapped her hand around my own, leading me out of the room.

for the first time in forever, I didn't even take the time to brush my hair or put on mascara or even change clothes. I just walked out the door, looking like I got hit by a bus, while being dragged to a coffee shops down the street by my best friend. she sat the two for us down at a table right next to the window. I felt a little breeze of cold air run through my hair each time the door next to us opened and closed. it was that hour that people would be coming inside for something to eat before classes. I swirled the stirring stick in my coffee,barely being able to take a sip.

obviously it hurt for Asher to manipulate me and act like I'm in the wrong. but its always been like that. it was always expected of him and I just got used to it. what I never thought he'd do is cheat on. especially when its all he thinks of me when I'm gone for more than 5 minutes "a cheater." the moment I locked eyes with that girl, all my emotions faded away and I was so lost I could even figure out who it was. but now that I'm thinking about it and remembering the moment. she had dark eyes. a taller yet thinner figure than my own. even with her hair disheveled across her head, I could see that it was darker, longer. I nearly spit out my coffee at the realization. he was sleeping with my second closest friend in the entire world. if Farah wasn't there to hold me (which she usually was) it was Natalie who would pull me in and kiss my forehead as if I'm a kid who scraped her knee. he was fucking Natalie Barlowe.

just a I was about to stand up and march to Natalie's house, Farah placed her hand on my shoulder mid setting down our breakfast. "woah woah what happened?" she gently pressed my shoulder down so that I would be seated.

"i-it was Natalie." - I choked out - "in the closet Farah. it was Natalie."

i felt my all my blood warm around my heart, almost squeezing it along with my lungs. I dipped my head down in my arms, pressing my now sweaty forehead on the ceramic table. the cool surface felt nice against all the heat that bubbled up in my head. hot tears fell down my eyes and I swear I could each and everyone of them splashing on the table beneath me. Farah's hand lurked up my back and slowly began rubbing back and forth. my back occasionally hitched up as more silent sobs left my mouth. I've felt this pain before and I never thought I would have to go through it again but here I am. Farah slowly slid into her own seat while trying to raise my head up to look at me. this time I wouldn't budge. not until I felt farah's hand leave my back to lift my body up and wrap her arms around me. still not letting my face into the public, my nose was dug into her shoulder while I continued to sob. once all the tears (for now) were emptied out, I pulled my head away from Farah's shoulder revealing my extremely puffy and red eyes. I quickly wiped a little bit of snot away from my nose and sat back down. I took a small bite out of the sandwich Farah bought for me. at this point I had no choice but to act and feel numb. I didn't smile but I didn't frown.

there was the breeze again. for some reason I felt the need to look at who was walking in the coffee shop now. to my surprise, it was Paige, Nika, and Aaliyah. I'm guessing they were trying their best to spend some time together before Nika and Aaliyah leave. once me and Paige's eyes locked, she sent over a small wave followed by her walking up to me and Farah's table. I looked away as fast as possible, covering my face with my hands, pretending to be asleep as if Paige didn't already see me shoot her a 'hey what's up' look.

farah was beyond confused by the fact that three star athletes from UConn were coming up to the two girls. I kept my head down, trying to dry some of my tears before someone could ask what's wrong with me. that's when I felt a tap on my back. "hey?" God that voice. I slowly lifted my head up and turned to see the 5'11 brunette standing above me. I felt my breath hitch and get stuck in my throat when I tried to speak. I cleared my throat and put my hand on Nika's, which was still resting on my back. I let her hand fall off of my hoodie but she kept a concerned look on her face. she tilted her head, using her eyes to ask me what happened. I had the idea of pulling her to the bathroom and explaining everything but that would awkward for almost everyone around me. Paige and Aaliyah quickly picked up a conversation with Farah, making her turn red out of embarrassment. I almost reached over to grab Nika's hand when she turned around to look at the people in this hop, I thought she was about to leave to buy a drink or something. I don't know why I was so freaked out by that thought. her hair flipped right back around when my finger grazed her hip after her hand. the way her eyes darted to mine sent a shock through my body and I swear the shop went silent.

as much as Asher hurt me, staring into Nika's eyes made me forget everything about. when I was with Nika it was like "who's asher?"

nika gave me a reassuring pat on the top of my hand, almost like she was letting me know she wasn't going anywhere no matter what. I looked behind me to see Farah sending me a 'save me' look but before I could barge in on whatever Paige was talking about, I blurted it out. "hey Nika do you want to go to a concert with me and Farah?" I have no idea why the fuck I did that but the good thing is I did.

"what?"

"what?" Nika and Farah said in unison. Nika's face almost lit up while Farah's slightly dropped. not with anger though, thank God. Nika's eyebrows furrowed towards her eyeballs while she scratched the back of her neck. "I mean-" she looked up at me then at Paige and then at aaliyah. they all gave her reassuring looks, telling her that she should go. "fuck it I guess. what day?" Nika pulled out her phone and opened the calendar app, getting ready to put down the date. Farah spoke before I could, "April 18th!" Nika quickly typed down the date and then shoved her phone back in her pocket. obviously I was fucking thrilled that Nika was coming with but how has she said yes when she doesn't even know who shes seeing? whatever. the only thing that mattered right now was the fact that one; I wouldn't have to deal with Asher at Olivia Rodrigo's concert and two; nika would be right next to me.

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

me, Farah, Paige, Aaliyah, and Nika decided to just hang out together while we ate breakfast instead of sitting at different tables. I took that moment to fill everyone in on what happened, not that I should've been getting so close and personal with them but...I now deem them as my new group of people to trust. because apparently teammates aren't reliable. we all said our goodbyes before walking back to campus in different directions. me and Farah spent the walk debriefing how I very clearly had a crush on Nika muhl and that the concert would be a perfect opportunity to make a move. a second one that is. Farah kept on nudging my shoulder and poking ta my stomach while smiling proudly.

"I can't believe you actually did that and she said yes like holy shit!" this entire morning made me completely forget about what happened the night before. and this time it didn't creep up on me thirty minutes later. I actually didn't care about it for a whole day. of course the next day was still difficult, I had completely started bunking at Farah's place until I had the confidence to just ditch Asher. he didn't deserve my presence anyways so I packed my shit and ditched.

farah was probably the most supportive person to breath, and not even just because shes my best friend I mean she will support anyone and everyone. whether they've done her wrong or not. sometimes it worries me how forgiving she is but then again we just had a breakfast buffet under asher's name so...

when we were back at her place, I plopped myself dramatically onto her bed while spreading my limbs about. the only thing I could manage to picture in my head was Nika. I cannot believe I'm actually going to a concert with basically a stranger. she never struck me as the type to go out on such short notice with someone like me. I pulled out my phone from my pocket and began to mindlessly scroll on Instagram, looking for something to actually be interested in that wasn't day dreaming about nika. of course she just had to slide into my DMS right when I'm trying to not think of her. the text popped up at the top of my screen and I felt my heart drop. I was already active so there wasn't any possibility of me ignoring her message. Hey. This is y/n right? I read the message and constipated what to say for way longer than I should've. shes just asking if I'm myself. am I myself? yes. yeah I totally am. hiii, yes this is y/n! I texted back while my thumbs almost shook.

we ended up talking all night I feel embarrassed to say it but I am fully head over heels for this basketball player now as if I would ever have a chance when so many other people have probably made moves on her by now. but then again why would she spend 4 hours texting me about anything and everything. our conversations alone made me happier than I had been in the past 2 weeks and I had just met this girl. no one has had this effect on me since high school and to be honest I've missed the feeling.

when I finally turned my phone off I looked up to see Farah standing next to me like a mom catching her kid playing a video game after bedtime. she had her hands on her hips and smug smile plastered on her lips. "who's got you kicking your feet huh?" Farah knew exactly who it was but of course she shoved the name out of my mouth. Farah laughed so hard she was on the brink of tears when she came back up for air. that's when I noticed she had her phone aimed at me, sitting on her bed with my feet in the air kicking back and forth. that's going to be posted in no time. I quickly rolled over to hide the fact that I was having the time of my life crushing on this girl. and as much as I tried to hide it, I get red when I think about her and when shes anymore in my vicinity.

i spent the entire night staring at the ceiling dreaming about how on earth I would try to actually have Nika love me if that was even possible. and of course when I fell asleep the first thing I dreamed (the only thing) was what the night would be like after the concert. what we would do after. if we made it back to a hotel or just drove home. maybe stopped at a gas station or any parking lot. talked for a little bit. maybe about the concert then maybe about how badly I wanted my lips against hers. but hey that's just a what if. and just a dream. so when I woke up in the middle of the night I had to gaslight myself into believing it in fact was going to happen just so that I could sleep peacefully without another wet dream about Nika muhl.

[rosietaeyongswife]

shameless | kim doyoung

AU: angst, fluff, drama, cheating au, readerxtaeyongxdoyoung SYNOPSIS: Marriage was supposed to be your dream. You were in love with Taeyong, until you came to realization that maybe he's not the one. Thankfuly, his best friends was there for you when you needed him the most. WC: 8k TW: cursing, cheating, mentions of sex AU: i do not support any kind of cheating. never. it's a pure fiction. yall i think i've improved my english lol one day i'll fix all my works because lmao yeah enjoy this pls:P

Marriage. How foolish of you to think it's going to be a dream come true. Well, everyone else stated that fact. According to them, marriage is one of the best stages of life. You've reached a certain point in life - perhaps an achievement. Too bad none of them said how much of a burden it can be.

Of course, the first few months were perfect. Dates, flowers, and affection. Isn't this what every woman craves? Kisses, gifts, and affirmations from your loved one. Those things blinded you. Only if you knew back then. Maybe then you would've left. It was your choice to ignore all the red flags. It's been a year, and it's a nightmare.

"Baby, can you do laundry?" You were running late, yet Taeyong does nothing. He could help you, at least. "I have to leave already. I showed you the other day how to do it. Will you do it for me, please?"

Taeyong was playing Call of Duty on the PS4 you've bought for him on his 27th birthday. He was focused on the game.

"Sure. I'll do it."

Without any other word, you left. Sometimes you'd like to smash that PlayStation into pieces. Taeyong does nothing around the house besides playing that damn thing.

It was a late call meeting with your work team. You couldn't focus on the words of your co-workers due to that weird gut feeling. Something deep down felt like something would go wrong. Ignoring this wasn't helping at all.

"Y/N, we want you to manage this project with Chaeyoung. Is that alright with you?" Your boss asked while you were drifting in your thoughts. "We believe your reviews and suggestions would make this successful on the market."

"Of course, I'll handle this."

"Thank you." He looked at the watch. "Okay, it's 9 p.m. We're done for today. I'm sorry we had to hold a meeting. It was a surprise to us too. You can go all home now."

Everyone left in a hurry, and so did you. The weather got worse, and it was raining. You couldn't get cold, so you called your husband. Silence. Again silence. He didn't pick up your calls. All you could do was run and pray that a bus would arrive.

"I called."

"Sorry, baby. I was too busy with the game. Look, I ranked up."

"That's amazing, but it's pouring outside, and I had to walk there by myself." You rolled your eyes at your husband's ignorance. "I'm fuckin tired. I just want to take a shower and go to sleep. Have you done the laundry like I asked you to?"

"Yes. It wasn't that hard." He laughed and turned the PS4 off. "I'm heading to sleep. Waiting for you in the bedroom."

At least he did what you had asked for. Walking in the bathroom was hopeful for you. Little did you know how much anger it would bring you.

"Taeyong! What the fuck have you done?!" Your husband was quick to run back to you. He was looking at you confusedly. "How could you ruin my white shirt for tomorrow? Why would you put red socks together with white laundry?"

"My bad. I'm sorry, honey." He looked at you with his doe eyes. "I didn't notice, sorry once again. I'll give you money to buy a new one."

"Sorry? You're sorry?" You scoffed. "I needed that shirt for work tomorrow. It's past 10p.m, what am I supposed to do? I asked you for one thing, and you managed to fuck it up."

"It's just a shirt, Y/N. You're overreacting. You can buy another one."

"It's not just about the shirt, Taeyong. You don't understand." You went next to him. "I don't have any clothes for work. Fuck."

Taeyong apologized once again and went back to the bed. He didn't really care about the fact that he ruined your shirt and left you alone past 10 pm, looking for clothes for work. He difted away to sleep while you had to hold your anger in yourself and calm down.

Your husband and you both work for the same company. You work in different departments and both of you start work at different hours. Taeyong got up and left an hour before you. As usual, you woke up to dirty dishes on the table and a cup of coffee on the counter. He didn't respect the fact that it was you who was cleaning the whole apartment.

"Look there. I guess you could've described another problem here, and we would put it together." Chaeyoung was taking notes on your words. "Do it, then send me the rest of the thing. I'll try to finish it by Friday."

"Thank you, and of course, I'm doing it."

Mark Lee was sipping on his coffee when he approached you. He was your best friend and best colleague from the company. Both of you go along pretty well.

"Someone's not in the mood today, huh?"

"Mark, please." You stopped on your way. "Don't get on my nerves today. It's not funny at all."

"Sorry, Miss Not in the Mood." He chuckled. "You slept on the wrong side, or what?"

"I slept on the right side."

"Then what happened?"

"Taeyong happened." Mentioning of your husband made your head hurt. "I asked him for one simple thing. Do laundry. That's all! Guess what." Mark was waiting for you to finally tell you the tea. "He ruined my shirt for today. I was tired, hungry, and annoyed, and on top of that, I had to find myself clothes for today."

Mark could only laugh. He was aware of your husband and how clumsy he can be.

"How did he even do it?"

"He put red socks and underwear together with white clothes. The majority of clothes were pijamas, but still. I didn't ask for much. I explained how the washing machine works about ten times!"

"Everyone makes mistakes, but your husband is crossing the line, Y/N. I'd be mad too. Yesterday was a horrible day."

It's almost the end of the month, so everyone is worked up. Every project needs to be finished ASAP, clients are waiting and aren't patient, and on top of that, your boss is scolding you for every little mistake you've made.

"You should be thankful you don't have to deal with it."

Another day went the same way. Today was another hard day, and the only thing you wished to do was fall asleep, but it seems like you won't be able to do that.

"Honey, I missed you."

Taeyong was looking at you with lust in his eyes. Deep down, you knew what he was about.

"Not today, sorry. I had a rough day, I'm exhausted."

"C'mon. I missed you and your body so much." He began to kiss down your neck. "I want you."

Anger was boiling in your veins. It's like you're talking to a wall.

"I told you no, why don't you give up? I'm not in the mood, I had a tiring day, and you expect me to fuck?"

"Fuck, Y/N." He stopped and put his hands into his hair. "We haven't had sex in months, alright? I have my needs, I'm fuckin horny, and I want to fuck my wife. I want us to feel good, yet you're always too busy to do so."

"I fuckin told you I'm tired. You're so, so.." His gaze went upon you. "Pushy. Leave me alone."

"Great."

The last thing you've heard was a door shutting. He left, and God knows when he'll be back. Like a kid. Your husband behaves like a spoiled child. Nothing ever satisfies him, and he wants things his way. Nothing in between.

Once you've been reading about all those unhappy couples who have sex once in a while, don't talk too much, or don't even know too much about each other. They're just together because they get used to each other and are way too comfortable to let go and leave. Little did you know you were going to face the same fate.

"Fuckin hell." You rolled your eyes. Taeyong wasn't picking up your calls when it was an important matter. "Boss, can I go into the marketing department to meet my husband? It's urgent."

He didn't even look up, but he nodded. Men.

The marketing floor was only three floors higher. Of course, you've known the majority of people working there thanks to Lee Taeyong. A few employees passed and greeted you.

Johnny was sitting by his desk, probably busy with his tasks that needed to be done by today.

"Hi, Johnny." He sent you a smile. "Do you know where Taeyong is?"

"Oh, hello, Y/N. Shit. I think he might leave for a lunch break with Jaehyun and Yuta."

"He did."

The voice was familiar to you. Turning your head, you saw no one else but Kim Doyoung. Your husband's co-worker and best friend.

"Fuck. Thank you, guys."

"Something did happen?"

"I wanted to ask him to drive me to Kun's bakery. It's Jaehyun's birthday in two days, but they need me there today. I guess they couldn't find a sample?" Doyoung was looking at you with his soft eyes, while you were stressed. "Nevermind. I'll go."

"Wait." Doyoung grabbed his coat. "I'll drive you. It's no problem for me. I'm on the break anyway."

Your whole body relaxed at his words. Somehow you felt different, because Taeyong usually rejects your requests, but Doyoung? He agreed right away.

As both you and Doyoung were on your way to Kun's bakery, Taeyong called you a few times. Asshole.

"Thank you, really. You have no clue how much this matters to me. You saved my day, Doyoung."

"No worries, I mean, I'm just driving you to the bakery. It's not hard, or something."

"I fear some people wouldn't agree." Doyoung glanced at you for a second. "Nevermind. Thank you, again. I bet Taeyong doesn't even remember we booked a cake at Kun's."

Both of you laughed at your remark. Doyoung was aware of how clumsy and nonresponsible his best friend can be.

"It wouldn't be Taeyong if he didn't forget about such a thing. But hey, look at you. You're about to solve a problem with Kun and come back to work, and you didn't need Taeyong's help."

"Wow, I'm so independent now. Not like you drove me there, at all."

Kim Doyoung was a year younger than Taeyong. Both of them have known each other since high school. Then they applied to the same business school where you met Taeyong. Both of them graduated and found a job at Lee Sooman's company. Like you did. Doyoung was different than Taeyong. He was clean, tidy, and he could cook. Everyone could depend on him when needed. He never let any of your friends down. Never. If you needed help, you should've called Doyoung. He was stylish and looked like an old-money guy. None of your friends, nor you, have seen him date. He probably had a few girlfriends, but they weren't serious, as you guessed.

"Well, I can pay you for-"

"Y/N, please." He stopped you mid-sentence. "Don't pay me at all. I had a great time picking a cake with you."

"Me too, Doyoung. Again, you're wonderful."

Taeyong was looking at you through the window of his office. He was calling you for an hour, and he had no response from you. He was a bit worried, but as he saw you with Doyoung.. He was relaxed.

Mark was smiling from ear to ear. He saw you coming into the building with Doyoung from the marketing department.

"What were you doing with Kim Doyoung?" He was moving his eyebrows in a funny way. "He's cool, right?"

"I had an emergency at Kun's bakery, yet my lovely husband wasn't picking up my calls." Mark scoffed. "He gave me a ride, and yes, he's a cool guy."

"Jaehyun's birthday, right?" You nodded. "I bought him a watch, and what about you and Taeyong?"

"I don't know. I was supposed to buy a cake, Taeyong is going to buy a gift. Please, I wish he had already done that."

Jaehyun's birthday is always a party at his house. He invites a whole friend group on the weekend, and makes a dinner. Everyone is drinking and having fun together. It was supposed to be an amazing day, but only if your husband didn't ruin it the day before.

"What do you mean you forgot?" Taeyong was stressed too. He knew he was meant to do something, but he had no idea what exactly. "Taeyong, you promised me you're going to buy him a gift!"

"Fuck, I forgot! Couldn't you do it? I'm busy with work, so it wouldn't hurt, Y/N."

"Are you kidding me?" You put on your coat. "I'm also working, I'm cleaning and cooking, I ordered the cake for Jaehyun's birthday, and both of us agreed that you're going to buy a gift!"

Every favor you're asking Taeyong for, ends in the same way every, fuckin, time. You can never depend on him.

"I help you too! Don't make me look like I'm some kind of lazy jerk. I simply forgot, things happen, okay."

"And what are we going to do? Are we going to show up with a cake for his 27th birthday and say sorry, but Taeyong fucked up once again?" The sarcasm in your tone was noticeable, and your husband wasn't a fan of it. "Do you even know what he likes?" Taeyong couldn't answer as he had no thoughts. "I knew it. God."

"Where are you going? It's past 8pm, and it's freezing outside?"

"None of your business. Clean after dinner. That's the last thing I'm asking you to do."

Cold February nights like this make you wonder about your life. Lately, both you and Taeyong have been fighting. You couldn't even remember when the last time both of you exchanged "I love yous". Are your friend's marriages the same? Do they fight a lot? Do they fight every day? Do they overcome it? To you, it seems like an endless circle.

Luck was with you tonight, because the old vinyl shop was open until 9. You made it on time to buy a jazz vinyl record for Jaehyun. He was a huge fan, everyone knew it, except Taeyong.

"That's a hundred dollas, mam."

The last shop you're going to visit is one owned by Haechan's uncle, who sells prestigious wines from all around the world. It was just a few blocks away.

As you were looking for a wine thatJaehyun hasn't tried yet, you've noticed familiar sillhouete.

"Doyoung?"

"Y/N?" He turned back with a gummy smile. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Emergency. Again."

"Mark mentioned that Taeyong was supposed to buy a gift, right?" He was visibly confused. "Then why are you here?"

"Key word 'supposed'."

For the first time ever, Doyoung felt bad for you. He always thought that you're a couple goals. Back in the day, you couldn't shut up about Taeyong. Either of you, were talking about each other, still in love. Taeyong never complained, nor did you. To be honest, every single one of your friends thinks you and Taeyong live your dream lives. Only Mark knew it was total opposite.

"I mean, maybe he was tired? Everyone works hard these days, people tend to forget things at times."

"Doyoung, please." You laughed sacristically. "I agree, but Taeyong always forgets about something. Doesn't matter if he's tired, or not."

For the time being, Doyoung had no explanation, nor could he defend his friend.

After a few minutes, Doyoung helped you pick a wine and took you home. It was another time he saved you. He was kind enough to drive you home.

"See you tomorrow, Y/N."

"See you too." As you were about to go into the building, you turned around. "Again, thank you."

Taeyong was asleep in the living room with a TV on. Typical of him. You looked over, and once again, Lee Taeyong disappointed you. The dishes were in the sink, not washed. You put the gifts down and did the dishes yourself.

Morning was a tense one. Neither of you speaks to yourself. The only thing you said was that you're going to pick up the cake by 5 pm. It was Saturday, and both you and your husband had a free day. Taeyong was probably waiting for you to make a lunch or something, but it wasn't your plan. You made yourself some waffles and ate them by yourself.

"Where's some for me?"

"Don't you have hands? Do it yourself."

He was looking at you in disbelief. Taeyong was used to you cooking and serving him food.

"Why are you bitching? I've already apologized. What else am I supposed to do?"

"I'm not bitching. I just made lunch for myself." He was getting annoyed with you. "It seems like I'm some kind of housewife to you. I'm not. Learn to do things yourself."

By 5pm, both of you were getting ready. It's been a long time since both of you went together somewhere. Taeyong stopped asking you on dates long time ago. Of course, you missed those silly dates. Your husband doesn't put effort in.

Taeyong was waiting for you in the car, while you put everything into a bag. One last look into the mirror, and you were looking pretty. In your eyes, everything seems fine.

"What are you wearing?" Taeyong almost burst laughing. "Honey, go change yourself, I don't think you look the best in such a dress."

For a moment, you felt stupid. Your own husband laughed at your look, even though you thought you looked great. A knee high, black dress and boots with a coat. Everyone was wearing that. It was a cute look.

"What do you even mean?"

"It's not made for you, I guess? I don't know, I just want to help you to not get emberrased."

"Oh, fuck you, Taeyong."

There was no time for changing, besides, you felt cute. A month ago, you would've run into the apartment to change but not today. You tried to ingore peaks Taeyong took. He hurt you. You thought you could ignore it, but as soon as you arrived, your self esteem was six fit under.

"Hey guys! Wow, Y/N, you look stuning!" Jaehyun welcomed you with a kiss on the cheek. "Suit yourselfs."

Jaehyun complimented you, but inside of your head there were Taeyong's words.

In the living room, everyone was waiting until Haechan would arrive with his fiance, Jimin. Johnny was sipping on a coffee with Sooyoung. Taeil was taking photos with his wife, Joohyun. Yuta, Jungwoo and Jaehyun were making food. Mark was laughing with his girlfriend, Soyeon. Doyoung was looking at you and Taeyong, when both of you arrived. Doyoung couldn't stop himself from looking at you. This dress complimented your body and your bueaty the best.

"Everyone let's drink. It's our Jaehyun's birthday." Johnny stood up with a glass of champagne in his left hand. "I can't believe you're already 27. We're all happy to be here and celebrate with you, dude."

The party was going great, everyone had fun, and none of the guests seem to be annoyed, or not having fun. Taeyong found himself sitting with Yuta playing games and drinking beer.

"Men are like children." Joohyun sat down next to you on the coach. "I can't believe they're almost in their 30s."

"Don't tell me that. Look at them, they're playing on the PlayStation as if they were teenage boys."

"At least we can have some time to ourselfes."

Joohyun was right. She was with Taeil since freshman year of the college. She was three years older than Moon Taeil and she was one of your closest female friends. Everyone looks up to her, since she was the oldest one in the friend group.

"Can I ask you something?" Joohyun looked at you waiting for your question. "Do you fight with Taeil often?"

"Hell yes! We fought in the morning because he didn't clean the bathroom like I asked him to."

"Did he do it after you had scolded him?"

"Of course. What kind of question is that?" She laughed at you, but you were dead serious. "Wait. Doesn't Taeyong do the same? You know, if you scold a man, then he's kind of irritated, but do it anyway out of respect for you."

"He doesn't. You see, I asked him to do something. I show him how to do things properly, so he won't have to need my help. I explain it like I'm speaking to a child. I do it about ten times per chore." You giggled at yourself. "Guess what. He doesn't do it. No matter how much I ask for, he either forgets, or doesn't do it at all."

Joohyun, for the first time ever since she has met you, felt bad for you. For the first time ever, Taeyong doubted her.

"I have no idea what to say, Y/N. It's not supposed to be like that. You're a duo after all."

"I don't think we're a duo, Joohyun."

For the rest of the night, Taeyong didn't give you attention, which you were thankful for. He got on your nerves enough. He was hanging out with his homeboys, enjoying himself, not worrying about you. In his mind, both of you have a perfect life. You are happy together, and you're madly in love. Maybe love is starting to be a too strong word for your feelings towards that man.

"Are you fine, Y/N?"

Doyoung smiled at you when you were sipping on a lemonade made by Johnny and Mark.

"I'm just tired after work and all this shit. And you? Are you fine?"

"It could be worse." He chuckled. "I see Taeyong isn't with you."

"Thank God. He's busy playing games."

"Still. I haven't seen you talking yet."

"We had a small fight before."

A reminder of that situation from before made you self conscious again. Your husband's words aren't supposed to make you feel the way they do.

"Was it serious or?"

"Not really. It was about my outfit, so nothing extreme."

"What do you mean by your outfit? You look stunning, I swear to God."

"Doyoung, can you be honest with him? We've known each other for almost ten years. We're friends." The man was busy thinking about what might come next out of your mouth. "Do I look bad? Be honest. Do I look worse than before? I don't know, am I not taking care of myself?"

It was a question directed at Doyoung because he was a person from a friend group that you've known for the longest. Actually, it was Doyoung who introduced you and Taeyong to each other. He knew him from high school, and he met you during the same classes at the business school. Kim Doyoung was a lovely nerd. Interested in Star Wars, books, and business. He used to collect plushies, he even gave you some of them. You always have wondered how Doyoung's world crushed with Taeyong's. Lee Taeyong was a popular jerk, interested in tattoos, rock, and trouble. For quite some time, you had a small crush on Doyoung. But then, you met Taeyong, and you fell head over heels over him.

"I don't see the point of this question. Isn't it obvious? Many guys from the department have a crush on you. I saw multiple strangers turn their necks when you passed by. You've always been pretty, Y/N."

"Now I feel better. Thank you, Doyie."

He was looking at you, once again, with his soft eyes. Sometimes, he wonders why you work him up so much.

"No problem. Remember, you're that girl. Don't let anyone say otherwise."

As you were about to respond, Taeyong showed up. He was drunk, and he could barely stand on his legs.

"Did you just call my wife pretty?"

"I did. We're friends, though. It's not that deep, Taeyong."

"I don't know, maybe you want to do something with her?" He was approaching you and Doyoung. Embarrassment fed your whole body as he got closer. "I don't like the way you talk to her."

"What's your fuckin problem, dude? I complimented her, since no one else bothers to do so. Like her husband, for example. Get it together, man."

You wish you could be gone for a second. Taeyong was drunk, and he had no clue what was going on.

"Shut the fuck up, Doyoung. You don't know shit."

"Calm down. You're wasted as fuck."

Everything that came after is now the past. The next thing you knew was Taeyong punching Doyoung straight into his nose. Blood was dripping on his shirt, and guys tried to grab him. You were shocked, and all you could do was scream at your husband. He was never that aggressive towards someone.

Jaehyun and Yuta were holding Taeyong, while Johnny and Haechan held Doyoung. Both males were calling each other names, while you wanted to disappear. Everyone was stunned. They had no idea such a storm was coming tonight. Best friends fighting over nothing.

"I'm leaving."

You got up, took your purse and coat, and left. Sooyoung called after you, but you were done for tonight. There was nothing you could do with your stupid husband. Leaving seemed like a good option.

"Get in." After a five-minute walk, a black Mercedes parked by your side. It wasn't your husband, though. "I won't let you go alone on a cold, dark night. Get in."

"You don't have to, Doyoung. I really -"

"I won't repeat myself."

Even after such a fucked up night, Doyoung had to be the one to take you home, not your husband. Does he even love you?

A week passed by, and nothing has changed. Both you and Taeyong would only see each other in the morning. Not even a simple "Hi" was exchanged. He was too embarrassed after what happened at Jaehyun's birthday.

"Y/N, we would love to move you a bit higher." Lee Sooman, your boss spoke to you. "We found your results to be the best out of the whole company. I want to promote you to a higher position and move you to the International Marketing department. Are you in?"

It was the day that would change your life the most. Working schedule was tighter, and you had to spend more hours weekly in the company. Chaeyoung was moved into the marketing department, so she was working with Taeyong. Everyone in the new floor was a stranger to you. These days, it's hard to find friends. Especially from work. Mark would always pass by your floor to say hello, though.

"Can I talk to Y/N?" Yuta's voice echoed through the office of the international marketing floor. "It's urgent and we need her. I'm from the Japanese unit."

Na Jaemin, your new co-worker, asked you to come. With a smile on, you saw Yuta waiting for you.

"What do you need, Yuta?"

"Are you the one who is in charge of France and Italy's orders?" You nodded at his words. "Well, I think that someone messed up and their orders came to Japan, and Japan's order came to France. Can you check it out with me?"

Both of you came to your desk and typed out the information about the order. Someone from the delivery unit must have mistaken the orders, that would have cost millions of dollars.

"I think you should call the international shipping floor, there's Seulgi. She may know what to do before the boss finds out."

When you were on your way back, Chaeyoung stopped you. She was smiling a bit.

"Can you help us, Y/N?"

It turns out that marketing and international marketing are supposed to make an ad together. You were picked as a person from the international floor, and Doyoung was picked from marketing.

"I'm glad I'm working with you, Doyoung."

"Me too. I would cry, if I had to work with Jeno or Xiaojun. They're a bit weird."

"I don't blame you." You laughed when you opened your laptop. "I think we should start today, and it would take about a week for us to finish. What's the theme of the ad?"

Doyoung took a look at his papers and then answered you.

"Youth. Progression. Victory."

"How the fuck are we supposed to do it?" In your head, you saw how much of a struggle this ad would be. "Any ideas?"

The time went by so fast, none of you noticed it was past 8 pm. Both of you got to work to make the best project you could ever do. Doyoung was a smart guy, and he knew exactly what to put in an ad to make it interesting.

While both of you were working, Taeyong didn't call you at all. You were supposed to be at home at 6, yet he didn't even care. He's probably still mad at you because of the fight.

"I'll drop you at home." Doyoung put his coat on, and looked at you to check if you're ready. "C'mon, Y/N."

"I feel bad. You're doing too much for me, Doyoung." It was truth, Doyoung didn't mind but to you it was wrong. Taeyong is supposed to help you, not his best friend. "Let me call Taeyong, he would pick me up."

"Waiting for his response, then."

It's ben almost 30 seconds and he didn't pick up. Another call. And another. Nothing. He wasn't going to pick up your calls tonight.

"I'm sorry. It's going to be the last time you're dropping me at home. For real."

Doyoung didn't answer but rather smiled at you. It was cute how much you didn't want to depend on him, but you did anyway.

Both of you were in a car talking about the details of the project when suddenly your stomach made a noise.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

"Lunch. Sandwiches."

"Y/N, it was at 1. It's 8. Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm fine." Another noise came from your stomach. "Okay, maybe a little."

"We're going to eat something. I'm hungry too."

When you were about to protest, Doyoung shushed you a bit. He parked by a restaurant next to the company. Both of you ordered the same thing and enjoyed the meal together inside.

"How much am I supposed to pay you back? I wasn't looking at the price."

"Don't worry, it's on me."

"Doyoung, I can't-"

"I said it's fine." He laughed. "Enjoy your meal and stop being so annoying."

It was the first time since you could've remembered when you were in a restaurant. The last time you were in a restaurant was with Taeyong on your birthday a few months ago. You couldn't explain why, but you felt the warmth you hadn't felt in a long time.

"Doyoung, I really want to thank you for everything you're doing for me." He stopped eating and focused on your words. "I have shitty time with my husband, work is getting on my nerves, and you're too nice to me'' It felt as almost you were crying. "You have no idea how much it does mean to me."

"Y/N, stop. I do it, and I'm not complaining at all. I like to spend time together, and it's not your fault that Taeyong is such an asshole. I wish he was a better husband. You deserve someone who will love you unconditionally."

After that, your evening got better. Doyoung took you on a small car trip around Seoul. He showed you some streets you hadn't seen before. Deep down, he knew you didn't want to come back home as soon as possible. He parked for a minute by the Han River.

"It's an amazing place. I feel like I'm 17 again, me and my friends go on trips here to follow our crushes from school."

"I did the same thing with boys. Me, Yuta, and Taeyong with Jonny would be here every day after classes because of Taeyong." He was laughing at himself. "Because of him and Kang Seulgi, we were here every day for hours. He wanted to look at her and ask her out. It never worked though, because she left for some time, then we were in business school, and he was dating you."

Kang Seulgi? Seulgi from the delivery department? From you company? Taeyong had crush on her? Suddenly you felt lightheaded, your vision became blurry, and tears appeared on you eyes. You had to take a few deep breathes to calm down.

"I've never heard about Taeyong and Seulgi? Why?"

"Fuck. I wasn't supposed to tell you then." It was an accident. Doyoung believed you were aware of Taeyong's first love. "I shouldn't tell you. Sorry, Y/N."

"It's too late, can you tell me more?"

"I shouldn't. I already have said too much."

"Doyoung, please. Taeyong never told me about Seulgi. I had no idea about another girl."

You felt hurt a bit, not because you were jealous. You were hurt because Taeyong was probably lying to you for these years. Was he in love with a girl that got away? That's why he doesn't care. You're not the one Lee Taeyong loves.

"They were seeing each other for months. He always had a thing for her. She rejected him a few times because she was supposed to move to Daegu for some time." Doyoung was looking far ahead, he didn't dare to spare you a look. "Seulgi left, he was depressed for weeks, then I met you. I introduced both of you to each other." Boy, how much does he regret that. "He was focused on you, then Seulgi came back. I guess they tried to talk, but he was dating you already."

"Now it all makes sense to me. Fuckin asshole." You weren't even hurt anymore. It seems like all the feelings for Lee Taeyong are gone. Even hate. "We've been together for the past 8 years. I've focused on him. I was like a maid! He was never there for me when I needed him the most, but I forgave him. I always did. I did this all to find out he was never truly in love with me. Bullshit." A sarcasstic laugh left your mouth while Doyoung was observing you. "Why would you ever introduce him to me? I would've dodged the bullet, Doyie. I wish you didn't."

Doyoung felt guilty, even though he shouldn't. In his eyes, Taeyong was a good man. He was sure his friend was treating you like a princess.

"Sorry, I felt he would be a good party for you. I don't know. But you can't say he doesn't love you. You don't know that."

"I think we both know that."

Awkward silence occurred between you.

"Listen, I do believe you deserve better. Don't mind him, maybe one day he will see what he has lost. Look at you, Y/N. You can't get such an asshole like him to make you feel bad. I love him, he's my best friend, but you're my friend too. I wish you would be happier."

His words were true and meaningful. Doyoung was right. You deserve better than that. In the heat of a moment, you turned your head towards him and kissed him.

"Fuck, sorry. I shouldn't, I don't know what I was thinking-"

He stopped you with a kiss. Much stronger kiss. It was like your mouths knew each other well. As if they were missing pieces together. It's been a long time since you've been kissed.

Best friends don't kiss each other's partners, and a wife doesn't kiss her husband's best friend. That was the truth. It's been a few days, and it was awkward between you and Doyoung. Taeyong apologized to you, and he tried to be a better man for you. Somehow, you felt a bit guilty because you were married, but honestly? You wished to wake up to Doyoung every day instead of Taeyong.

"I made you breakfast."

Taeyong got into the bedroom with a plate of toast and scrambled eggs.

"Thank you."

"That's it?"

"What else am I supposed to say?" You popped your eyebrow. "I've done breakfast for you for the past 8 years, give me a break already. It's the bare minimum, Taeyong."

"I thought you'd be happy."

"I am. Okay?"

It's too late to fix things now. Breakfast in bed won't fix the damage that has already been done to you. Deep down, you wanted to feel guilty, but you just couldn't.

In the company, everyone was busy. It's April. One of the busiest months for the company. You had hopes of passing by Doyoung. Your project got accepted, whichh made your comapany's saels higher. Mark would drop by to talk shit about your co-workers. Johnny bought you a coffee, and Sooyoung called to go shopping with you. Everything should go fine.

About 7 pm, when the company was almost empty, you saw a well known to you figure. He was putting his things together, probably about to leave the building.

"Can we talk? Like adults, please? Ignoring each other won't turn back time, Doyoung."

"It's not the best time for this conversation, the building is about to close down."

"Then let's talk somewhere else. Even at the stupid bench in the park."

He took a second to rethink his life decisions.

"Let's talk at mine."

After 15 minutes, both of you arrived at Doyoung's apartment. It was located in the center of Seoul. It was maybe the fourth time you've ever been there.

"I know it's bad and awkward. I'm married to your best friend, and we kissed each other, making out even." You chuckled because of your nerves. "I shouldn't have kissed you, I guess. Sorry. But please, let's talk. I kinda miss you." He looked at you, a bit shocked. "As friends, of course."

"Well, I really want to say I regret kissing you. Really." He was pacing around the living room. "But it would be a lie. Honestly? I enjoyed it, and I would do it again, and again, and again. I don't give a fuck about Taeyong now."

His statement made you blush. He was confident in himself and sure of what he was saying.

"Fuck, me too. I know how wrong it is, but I can't help myself."

Nothing else needed to be said. Doyoung dropped everything he had held. He was kissing you like a starved man. As if he hadn't been able to see you for ages. It's a forbidden romance, and you're enjoying it.

Next thing you knew was you being in his bedroom. He was slowly kissing you down your neck, while his hands were taking off your clothes. Everything felt magical.

"Can I?" He asked with hungry eyes, his fingers on the hem of your pants. "Please?"

"Please."

It was the best sex you've ever had. Taeyong usually didn't pay you much attention. He wanted to cum and he could care less if you did. Doyoung paid attention to you, and only you. He was focused on making you feel good. He loved your body and moans you left out your mouth.

"You're amazing. I wish it was me who dated you back then." Doyoung was holding you in a spoon. His fingers were circling your shoulder. "I like you."

"I like you too."

Since then, it has become a routine for you. Taeyong wasn't suspicious of anything. He was busy working with Seulgi. He couldn't lie, but he preferred to stay at the company until late hours to finish tasks with her. He thought you were having fun with Joohyun or Sooyoung. You and Taeyong barely talk to each other, but none of you seem to mind. This marriage was meant to fail from the beginning.

"Y/N." Mark touched your shoulder. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure?"

"What were you doing at Doyoung's apartment last night? I was there to drop him off his laptop, but I saw you coming in."

This question made your heart drop. Romance between you and Doyoung was supposed to be a secret until you'd be responsible enough to divorce Taeyong.

"We're friends? And co-workers? I was doing research with him." You giggled. "What are you even thinking of?"

"Fuck, sorry. I shouldn't have asked." He was a bit embarrassed. "You wouldn't do anything harmful to Taeyong. I thought you were doing something weird with Doyoung."

"Mark, please. How could you think about it?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen you talk in weeks. He's always around Seulgi, you're meeting with Doyoung a lot, and both of you leave at different hours." He was a bit confused. "Are you guys fine?"

"Yes, we are fine, Mark. Don't worry too much."

The thought of being almost caught scared you. Your friends wouldn't understand you. They would blame you for cheating on your lovely, hardworking, and amazing husband. Especially, if you're cheating on him with his best friend. You were lonely, and you lost feelings for Taeyong long ago, he himself probably had lost them first, a long time ago.

"I know." Joohyun's word made you stressed. "Taeyong called asking about you. I covered for you every single time. You're cheating on him, right?"

It was supposed to be a chill meeting at your apartment with a coffee and cake. Joohyun loved you as if you were her sister.

"Before we go any further, don't judge me, please." You couldn't look her in the eyes. "I'm ashamed of myself, but I think that's how it was meant to be. You don't understand how it is to be with Taeyong. How is it to be unloved and ignored."

"Y/N, I'm not judging you at all. Me and Johnny support you. At first, Johnny was furious, and he couldn't believe it." She chuckled. "I guess, me too. I wasn't ready. But look at this. After Taeyong? I really admire you, and how you were able to move on with life.

"I know I'm the worst person on earth because of that. I'm ashamed to face him and tell him I want a divorce."

"Well, it's not a surprise. It's a tough topic. Let me ask you another question. Is it Doyoung?"

"How do you know?"

"It's obvious. Every time we've been gathering together, he could never take his eyes off of you."

After that, Joohyun and Johnny promised you to keep a secret. They didn't support cheating, but they couldn't blame you. Everyone thought you were living a great life with Taeyong, only to turn out it was the total opposite.

"I'll divorce him."

Doyoung was sitting on the chair on his balcony with you on his lap. He was finishing his glass of wine. As soon as he heard that, his eyes met yours.

"Are you sure? I don't want to force you into anything." He said, slowly carrasing your back. "I fear that Taeyong won't forgive us. I may lose my best friend."

"At first, I thought the exact same thing." You kissed his cheek. "But now, I completely hate this guy. I lost my femininity, myself, and energy because of him. I can't look at him, because all I see is how much he hurt me and me cheating on him."

"I'm here. I'm going to support you no matter what."

Both you and Doyoung told your friends you needed to go on a trip to Jeju. You had the time of your life there. Taeyong was texting you once in a while. Doyoung made your life interesting. He gave you something Taeyong could never.

Dark nigths going on a walks on the beach. Singing songs in a karaoke bar or in your room. Doing stupid teenagers shit. Life with Doyoung was different. You felt loved.

Joohyun invited everyone from the friend group to a BBQ. It was a usual Friday. Mark was in charge of drinks with Jungwoo. Johnny was in charge of the music. Taeyong was busy with his phone, while you and Doyoung cut fruits like Joohyun asked you to.

It should be a peaceful night. Only if Seulgi didn't show up. After she came, the atmosphere tensed. Jaehyun felt uncomfortable, so did Yuta and Taeil. You tried to ignore it, but Seulgi was all on Taeyong. In public. In front of everyone's eyes.

"Why is she here?"

"I don't know. Joohyun probably invited her." Doyoung sipped on his drink. "That's wild."

"It is. That's why I hate him. Look how shameless he is."

After some time, everyone was busy with something. Some were dancing, and some were singing old hits. You were on the coach, looking at your friends having fun.

"How are you, Y/N?" Jaehyun and Jungwoo sat down on both sides of you. "We saw you're sitting like a potato here."

"I'm not drunk enough to go up and dance."

"Then drink more!" Jungwoo handed you another drink. "We're having fun tonight!"

"Exactly. You can't be depressed or something."

They were right. Soon after, you had almost five different drinks, most of them being mixed with vodka. You were dancing with the girls, then with Yuta and Doyoung. You really had a lot of fun. Until Taeyong turned the music off.

"Everyone! Can I take a second of your time?" Everyone was confused. Your heartbeat was faster, and your hands started to sweat. "I'd like to share the wonderful news with you!" He was drunk. Drunk like on Jaehyun's birthday. It means trouble. "I don't know if any of you are aware of me and Y/N. My lovely wife."

You were quick to stand up and grab Taeyong.

"Let's go. Get yourself together you're embarrassing me."

"Let me go." He got out of your hold. "As you know, we've been married for 8 years! That's a long period, right? Well, I think someone might get bored of one another."

"Taeyong, please. Stop it."

Tears came into your eyes quickly. Everyone witnessing the scene was confused. Joohyun was fast to send Johnny to get Taeyong somewhere else.

"Johnny, leave me alone! I'd like to share something with you! Our lovely, sweet, and faithful Y/N is a cheating bitch! That's right!" He was laughing devilishly, while you were on a verge of a breakdown. "Isn't it crazy? We all think about her as of an angel. Look at her. She's not all that."

"I don't think you should do it, man." Jaehyun tried to get Taeyong's attention, but he wasn't listening.

"I should. My wife is fucking my best friend, and I should stay quiet? No way! Tell us, Y/N, how long have you been fuckin Doyoung?"

People left gasps. They all turned their heads towards you. Johnny and Joohyun felt anger. He should never done this to you in a public.

"Let her go, man. I'm not kidding." Doyoung stood up and pushed Taeyong. "Are you crazy? Did you forget about fuckin Seulgi? You're not saint after all."

It felt like a nightmare. Everything was going so fast, and you could only stand there shocked.

"I was faithful to her for the longest time ever! And look how did she pay me back."

"Don't be funny, Taeyong." You managed to say it, while wiping the tears away. "How can you do this to me? After what I've done to you. I never told anyone how much of a burden living with you was! Not even once! I was there with you when I was doing every chore for you! Every little thing you needed! I let you fuck me when I wasn't in the mood, because I cared about you!" You were screaming on top of your lungs. "Y'all can judge me. You can throw names at me, I don't care! I've never been happier. None of you understand what I went through."

Your friends were in shock. They never would guess what was coming. You and Taeyong fighting in the Johnny's backyard with a people around. All the dirty things you've ever done were mentioned.

"Don't act like a victim."

"Am I not? You were using me for everything. I lost my will to live, Taeyong. You're a selfish motherfucker, who had never loved me. You've been in love with Seulgi since the beginning. You lied to me, ruined my life and I wasted all those years."

"I want a divorce."

"Me too. I hate you, Taeyong."

With that, all your group friends were confused. Joohyun, Johnny, and Doyoung gave you support. Taeil and Sooyoung reached out to you too. Mark,Haechan, Yuta and Jungwoo were confused about what to do. Jaehyun had no idea what to think, until Johnny changed his mind. They were uncomfortable with everything that'd been said that day.

Taeyong blocked your number, packed your things, and threw you out of your shared apartment. You had no choice but to move in with Doyoung.

"I love you, Y/N. I think I always did."

"I wish I had married you first." Both of you chuckled on the way to the court. "Imagine what we would have done in these years. I'm grateful we have so much to explore about each other."

Doyoung never let you down, or doubted you, or your trust. He gave you loved, you were craving for. He was a missing puzzle to your life. He helped you understand yourself, and improve yourself.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lee, oficially you've been divorced. Mrs. Y/N, succesfuly, you dropped Lee from your last name. I wish both of you happines on a new life's path."

It would be the end of the chapter titled Taeyong, now you're beinning a new one with your true love.

[jmscornerlibrary]

Snape's Search History - Part Three

In which a SNCC meeting takes place.

***

If one was to look at Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger sitting at a round desk in the middle of the common room on Monday evening, one would have thought that they were undoubtedly in the middle of a conspiracy. They were speaking in hushed voices, their eyes darted from one companion to the other, and sometimes, Hermione’s hand would move up and down the small piece of parchment she had placed in front of her. 

However, since Ron had at least two older brothers who spent their whole lives doing just that and since they were all Gryffindors - which meant all of them had conspired in one way or another at some point in the past -  eyes passed over this image without taking any notice of it.

However, the meeting was disturbed when an additional counterpart meandered up to the desk, slid out a chair, then sat down rather clumsily. Namely: Neville Longbottom. 

“Hullo,” this Longbottom said.

Hermione’s hands danced over the parchment nonchalantly and concealed any words that had been previously placed before she replied.

“Hello, Neville.”

Neville looked at them for a few moments, then made a shrugging motion and sighed.

“Just thought I’d ask, since I thought it’s quite a good… and erm, noble idea of yours…” He dared meet their eyes, then blurted it out on one breath. “D’you mind if I join you?”

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Hermione’s eyebrows shot up.

“Join us?” she repeated, then added, “As in, to sit down?” “Well, yes,” Neville said, probably wondering whether he should back out while he still had the chance. “And no. I just thought… you know…”

“Ah,” Harry said, nodding. “You mean the secret that I told you about this morning.”

Hermione looked at him, slightly agonised, then back at Neville, who looked relieved and was nodding eagerly, then sighed.

“Yes, of course,” she said, then revealed the parchment. “I don’t see why not. But this has to be completely secret.”

Ron snorted and glanced at Harry. “We’re doing a great job of keeping it so far.”

“I reckon we are.” Harry shrugged. “Snape looked like he had no idea what was going on, this morning, didn’t he?”

“It was very fun. I don’t think he was expecting it one bit.” Neville beamed, then adjusted himself on the chair and scooted closer up to the table with it. “So, do you have a name for this?”

Hermione opened her mouth, then frowned. Ron spoke. 

“A name?”

“Yes, for this.” Neville tapped Hermione’s parchment. “It’s like a group, or a society. It should have a name.”

Ron laughed, grinning, then shared a look with Harry. 

“Of course we do,” he said. “It’s called the SNCC.”

Hermione turned to him. “The SNCC?”

“What's SNCC?” Harry asked.

“The Super-Nice-Conspiracy-Club,” Ron said after a short pause, making everyone correctly think that he had just made it up on the spot, then shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, why not.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. 

“I think you mean the Snape’s-Newfound-Contentment-Committee, Ron.”

Ron nodded vigorously and pointed at her. “Precisely what I meant. Write that down, Hermione. It sounds pretty cool.”

Harry and Neville nodded, watching Hermione’s quill move up and down as she started to mutter, quite pleased with herself.

“We ought to make this official,” she was saying, placing dots on the parchment, “I mean, as official as it can get. A meeting once a week… oh, stop moaning Ron, it would only take ten minutes… and I’ll be the secretary. I’ll record these meetings and after a few months, we’ll review what we have achieved.”

“You’re going to be making charts about, what, Snape’s happiness levels?” Harry said - Ron laughed - and furrowed his brows. “Seems quite vague.”

“Or his depression levels if it goes as it currently is,” added Ron.

“True. But how are you going to do that, Hermione?”

“I’ll manage,” Hermione hummed, then placed down her quill and looked at them expectantly. “Since this is our first official meeting, we have very little progress to report and I don’t think we have many ideas, and thus should think of more.”

“Yep,” Neville said. “Perhaps we should make a mindmap.”

“Good idea, except there wouldn’t be much to put on it at the moment,” Harry replied, putting his head on his folded arms.

There was silence as everyone sank into thought.

“This is hard,” Ron sighed after a short moment. “If this was Hagrid, it would be easier. He loves all sorts of tea and biscuits and us coming to visit him, but, well, we don’t really know Snape well enough to come up with anything.”

“I bet the Slytherins do,” Neville muttered, which made Hermione look up at him. 

“Yes, they probably do,” she said, looking thoughtful. “But we’re not on good enough terms with any of them to ask without looking suspicious.”

“And downright bloody weird,” Ron scoffed, shaking his head. “No, better not. Let’s think.”

“Yes, Ron, do some of that for a change,” Hermione murmured, but then they all propped their heads up and frowned.

A few moments passed. A few sparks were set off by the Weasley twins as part of a prank, causing disturbance, but after joining in with the laughter as Lee Jordan tried to put Percy’s robes out of fire, Ron rapped the table, leaned in towards them and spoke.

“What about the house elves?”

“The what?” said Hermione and Harry.

“House elves,” Neville said. “They cook and clean and stuff. We’ve got one. And they’re never seen unless you summon them or seek them out. But what about them?”

“I dunno,” Ron said. “I just thought they could send stuff up or bring stuff down if we asked them.”

There were another few thoughtful nods, then Hermione put her head to the side and went a little pink.

“I think I’ve got an idea…” she began, glancing hesitantly at Ron. “... but, I don’t know…”

“What?” Harry asked.

Hermione pushed her lips out, smoothed her parchment out, then explained.

“If they cook and clean, that means they would be in the kitchens.”

“Yep.”

“And that means they can make drinks. So, I thought, what if they put his favourite drink on his desk in the morning? As in, you know, after breakfast?”

Ron opened his mouth, then thought for a moment and closed it.

“Yeah,” he said, opening it again. “That’s not too bad of an idea. And since they know what disappears on the breakfast table, they’ll know what he chooses to drink most often.”

“Brilliant.” Neville nodded. “That’s a start.”

They watched Hermione writing down the idea, then sank into thought again. This time, Hermione spoke.

“This is definitely for the future,” she said. “But once we… er, finally make friends with him-”

“I really doubt that will ever happen,” Ron interrupted.

“... we could find out what interests him and talk to him about it.”

“Well, he teaches Potions, doesn’t he?” Harry asked.

“Yes, but he must have other interests. One’s hobby doesn’t simply restrict to one’s job. In fact, that’s hardly ever the case.”

“Well, Snape is quite clever,” Neville murmured. “I bet he likes to read.”

“That’s a thought!” Hermione said, then bent down to write. “And it works out, because I like to read too!”

“But we don’t really do much of that,” Ron observed.

“Unless forced,” added Harry, “or if the book is good… D’you reckon he likes Quidditch?”

“He doesn’t look as though he does.”

“Or any other sport for that matter. No, he’s more of an intellectual man… And we’re on opposite teams,” Hermione said. “No, that can only cause conflict. At the moment, anyway.”

“Right,” Ron said. “But I think this is enough to begin with,” he said, peering at what Hermione had written down. We only made the first move today. If we do much more, he’ll get suspicious. And we shouldn’t be so obviously nice, next time.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “It was very fun to watch, but he’ll start to think we’re up to something.”

“Oh! I had a thought last night, but I forgot to mention it,” Hermione said. “To make it seem as though it’s simply a change in circumstance, as opposed to aimed at Snape: we should be just as proper in every other lesson too. I bet the teachers talk in the staff rooms. If Snape hears others talking about how suddenly all of us have matured and understood the importance of rules, and are taking homework seriously-”

“I am not doing double homework for Transfiguration,” Ron declared. “Or any other subject for that matter. Potion’s enough.”

“Alright, you don’t have to do much extra homework,” Hermione relented, obviously thinking that the poor boy wouldn’t be able to manage such a feat. “Just as long as you do it to the best standard.”

“Alright, alright,” Ron rolled his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like a teacher.”

“Anything else?” said Harry, smiling as they argued. “Or is that all?”

“I don’t think there’s anyone else we should be nice to.”

Hermione snorted and looked at them gleefully. “We could be nice to Draco Malfoy.”

All three boys made varying noises of indignance and laughter. Neville smirked. Harry and Ron snorted.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “What a great idea. I know, why don’t we just throw an exclusive Slytherin party while we’re at it?”

“That would definitely be sucking up,” Harry said, making gagging motions. “No, let's just keep to teachers.”

“Yeah,” said Ron. “That’s almost too much anyway.”

“But think about it this way,” Harry said as Hermione rolled up the parchment. “You’d make your mum proud if she found out how responsible you are being, Ronniekins- ow!”

Hermione and Neville got up to go to the library, leaving the squabbling duo behind and Harry massaging his head where Ron had bonked him. And it was only when they climbed through the portrait hole did Hermione lower her voice and say:

“You know, Neville… About those drinks these house-elves are supposed to bring up?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t we ask them to write a positive quote with each one?”

Neville wasn’t quite Harry or Ron, and in his mind the dark Potions Master could do with some more positivity, so he nodded enthusiastically as their steps matched.

“Yeah, why not?” he said. “It cannot possibly do any harm.”

[spearxwind]

Hiya!! Decided to take some quick comms :3

Info:

Dragons only this round!! Sorry x)

Fullbody by default, I can do waist up (or equivalent) but price will remain the same (though the detail will be proportional to both pieces. So waist up would be more detailed basically)

60eur base price, plus extra for complex designs

Not first come first serve

But also, no slots for now! I will do these based on demand until it stops or until i get tired, whichever comes first.

I'll work on batches of three or four approximately, and I will only charge you when I am ready to work on ur piece!

Here's an example of how it'd look like, using my boy Cercerion:

And a slightly closer detail

If you'd like one, hmu at windydraws@gmail.com, and please make sure your email includes the following:

visual references for your character

how you'd like the pose to look (if you have any preference, otherwise I'll choose what I think would look nice)

A bit of their personality/demeanor if you'd like, if it's relevant for the pose, as well as any details you'd like me to pay special attention to, if any!

your paypal email so I can invoice you (VERY IMPORTANT)

your url if you'd like to be credited or @'d

Once paid I'll send you the sketch for reviewing the pose, and once that is approved I will finish the piece! (And once the piece is done you have a right to two tweaks free of charge if I got anything wrong.)

TOS:

Payment is upfront, and through paypal only!

Turnaround is around four weeks/one month maximum after payment, I will warn you if it would exceed this time for whatever reason.

I will post these on social media by default, if you'd like yours to remain anonymous or to not be posted at all please let me know!

These are for personal use only

If you have any questions feel free to DM me (I'll try to stay on top of em!) Thank you for reading!

[boyfridged]

thank you, @tasonpjodd for your generous donations to spotlighted campaigns! if anyone would like to help out, please check my list. i am currently taking prompts for ficlets in exchange for proof of support of palestinians' fundraisers. details here. below -- the requested ficlet: dick and jason reconnecting after jason's return. once again -- thank you, dear! enjoy.

&you need a shovel (1435 words, sketch*)

When Bruce told him, months before: “I’m sure. The body wasn’t there,” Dick thought: bullshit. That was bullshit, and Bruce probably dug up his little brother’s grave for nothing, and… And perhaps it was reasonable. The only way to know for sure. 

“You’re not going to do it,” Donna told him, her voice muffled. 

And he was not going to. 

A flock of birds passed somewhere above, their caws so loud he could hear the cry with the doors closed, through the glass. 

“Where even are you?” Her voice cracked on the line again. 

“In a car,” he replied, impassive. A car. Nothing like the nice models he used to drive and show off. Not even a license plate permanently attached.

“Going to?” 

He looked out of the window, at the empty road, emptier, blackened acres surrounding it, and finally, at the distant city skyline. Then, he looked at the map plastered on his windshield and the pastel blue notes attached to it, thinking.

“Dick. Where are you staying? I thought you were with Bruce.”

Not far. The dots and connecting them lines sketched with a dark marker concentrated in the heart of Ocean County, New Jersey. Whatever they say about Rome.

“Or are you still looking for him?”

“No.” Because about that, she was right. Jason would come, if he wanted. He had to know he could, so– “It’s just a murder case.” Or five. 

She stayed silent for a split second, but with Blüdhaven razed to the ground, he could easily predict where the conversation was going. Everyone asked the same questions, wearing the same sympathetic face of grief. No one knew his.

“I have to go.”

“Dick–”

He hung up. There was nothing to say about Blüdhaven.

***

And then there is Gotham. With his childhood and family that can be traced back there like a murder trail. 

The case he’s been studying is colourless, no spandex in sight, but if it turns out to be more, he will not be surprised. Still, for now, he finds himself enjoying the bare bones detective work, something he also liked in his time- his time undercover with BPD. 

The victims do not exactly fit one profile. Four of them are rich, yes, the old money kind. That got the local cops working. The timeline Dick has written down, leaning over the console, reviews that in detail. They were first declared missing, with speed that only cash of their families could buy. Then, body parts appeared in Gotham dumpsters, as if strategically. A stomach and a hand. A loose head and a pair of lungs. 

Weeks of prodding lead to the next piece of jigsaw as if it was destined to fall into a missing spot in a finite formula, still loose but undoubtedly in place. The man; the crime; the date, aligning flawlessly. 

So Dick arrives at the driveway of Lehman’s off-city property, west of Bristol, not entirely sure what he’s expecting, a scenario after scenario pushing at him like a headache. There was already a suspicion growing at the back of his mind, or his heart, a hope, a wrong word given the circumstances– 

So perhaps the image that haunted both his dreams and waking hours. A boy, still just a boy, his frame unsteady, flickering on a rattling train, a boy on a trapeze, a boy calling him from the other side of the road only to disappear after a blink, a boy at his kitchen table, a boy in the coffin, more charcoal ash than a boy, or still a flame that goes out too quickly. A boy falling, cascades of dazzling colours and fingers slipping out of his own. 

He presses the brakes at the open gate. The tyres stagger on the cobblestone. 

This is not a watercolour of Dick’s grieving mind,  but a young man, shielding his bare eyes from the lights of the car, his hand fixated on a gun. 

For a second, Dick forgets how to breathe. His knuckles turn unnaturally pale on the wheel. He has to meet his own, bloodshot eyes in the rearview to confirm that they are open at all; that what he is seeing is real.

He gets out, willing himself to check the surroundings, and there it is, a shape of a victim on the ground, a red mess of limbs, right behind Jay. Jay, no mask on his face and posture so rigid that Dick takes his next step almost in slow motion, as if approaching a startled animal. 

“That’s– you,” Jay says and the initial shock in his voice, raspy, with a single odd note of youth, slips into chagrin that Dick would rather pretend to be the sustained surprise. 

“That’s me,” He confirms, and he too sounds almost foreign to himself. The casualness of it all is  inappropriate. 

He sticks his hands in his pockets. 

Jason’s hand remains close to the gun, the only visible weapon on him. Other than that- nothing. He’s wearing a black sweater, out of all things, a bit rough, a striped scarf, no gloves, jeans. He is not dressed for the weather, and definitely not for the activity. 

There is last hoarfrost on the already greening grass. Maybe this is why Jason pulls the sleeves over his hands, ignoring the newly acquired stains. 

“Where’s your–”

“I’m in the middle of something, so unless–” Jason begins at the same time. It’s acidic, or an attempt at. A challenge. 

“Unless what?” He questions, still standing there like a directionless pole. Unless he is there to stop him, maybe? 

Mere months ago, Dick stood and watched a man get shot, static. 

It is too late to stop anything. 

Lehman is very much dead. Not only is he dead, but in an interrupted process of being dismembered. Blood is soaking into the ground where a leg lies, and it is grotesquely bright, the type of brightness only a bone on display can seem to emit. 

And Jason’s expression is indescribable, just for a moment, carefully blank. Then he kneels next to the body, takes a loud breath in and closes his eyes. As if looking at Dick causes him great pain. Or– he could be praying, Dick thinks, hysterically, but there’s a frown building at Jason’s forehead to disprove this theory. His eyelids snap back open quickly enough too, and he reaches for the saw. He finds the slit of the injury on the body’s arm and pushes through with ferocious expertise that should not be so impressive. 

There is a bit of an uncomfortable slide to it under pressure. Dick does not think. He comes up and stomps on the loosely opened hand to stabilise the corpse. It’s firm under his boot. 

“This is a mess.” Dick says, like this is a thing to focus on- But his little brother has never liked messes. 

Jason’s eyes flicker to the side, at a gasoline tank he must have brought with, like it’s an ever-reliable answer. 

“I don’t… I don’t get what you’re doing,” Dick adds, despite the understanding dawning on him. 

“You don’t even know what you’re doing.” 

“Excuse me— I’ll let you know,” He replies, his voice still distant, just a hint of humour ringing out excruciatingly, too close to conscience, “I have worked plenty cases like this.” Usually arresting the offender, not helping them. The irony is not lost on him. “And it will be hard to smoulder it enough. Better bury him.” 

The grit of the saw comes to a momentary stop, the idea taken into consideration.

“Why? You got a shovel?” Jason mocks.

“I do.” 

There is a moment of silence. Dick would be too ashamed to admit that momentarily, he feels something like a shadow of satisfaction– or confidence, reinstilled. Yet, the tick of vanity cannot last in the face of vulnerability embodied. 

Jason’s wide grey eyes look up at him, properly for the first time, a trace of apprehension not disguised. 

“Where’s your… Car? Bike?” Dick asks, which earns him no response but another dubious look.

The thought that Jason walked eighty minutes on foot, just to slaughter this guy– It is becoming realistic. 

“Right.”

There’s a crumpled pile of black trash bags on the curb. Dick opens one, and gestures around.

“How about we- pack it up. And drive up into the forest.” 

Everything in Jay’s pose – the stubborn silence, how he bites at his lips, the tension of his jaw and arms, promises rejection. 

But when Dick extends a hand, he takes it at once. 

His brother’s- Dick’s now too, their hands, slide, sticky and red. And Dick helps Jason up.

*this ficlet will see a full-length version sometime this year, under the same title. for now -- thank you for reading. support gaza.

[bean-bean2000]

The Maid - Part 3

Pairing: Loki x reader (on going series)

Warnings: Angst, abuse, mental health (depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts). Eventual loki x reader pairing. Reader is a maid.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Part 2 Series masterlist Main Masterlist

You return to the maid's quarters, shaking in disbelief at your interaction with the king.

I just lied to his face. I'm such an idiot. Will he change his mind and punish me? Why was he so nice to me if he sends his guards to beat me almost daily? Why did he look concerned when he saw my injuries? Is this some cruel manipulative twisted joke so he can trap me into trusting him, just so he can rip my trust for him into pieces? To finally break me like the guards say they will?

Your mind is racing; confused, angry, hurt. You say nothing to the other maids when you return to your cot. If they are to know you spoke to the king, rumours will spread.

You decide you can't risk it, you have to request a change of duties.

You rush to the man in charge of separating the help's duties amongst the castle.

You bow your head and curtsy when you approach him "Good evening, sir. I am here to place a request, if possible." you say quietly, staring at the floor.

He says nothing so you decide to continue "I would like to change duties. I believe the king is no longer fond of my work, nor my presence and think a change would be best to appease his anger."

"Very well. I doubt he will notice the change anyway. You are quiet and forgettable. You will be placed on the rotation team. You will work multiple different duties at my discretion. You may leave now." he says to you coldly.

You thank him quckly and return to your chambers.

He's right. He won't even notice I'm gone. This is for the best, I must avoid him at all costs to stay alive. Stay quiet, do as they say and stay small. It's the only way I'll survive.

Over the next two weeks you successfully avoid all contact with the king. You're continuously rotating duties from maid, to kitchen staff, to laundry and you're body is aching from the physical exertion. The abuse from the guards subdued but did not stop from the Snake. He would search for you exclusively and insist it was at kings personal request. He did everything he could to try to break you, but you repeated the same words "Never". Sometimes you would fight back and other times you would simply take it so it could be over with faster, but one thing you made sure of is that he never touched you. You would go feral at the mention of it.

Yesterday, the Snake went too far and tried holding you down to 'teach you a lesson', you screamed and swung your hands as you scratched his face from his eyebrow to his lip so deeply he was bleeding profusely all over his bedroom floor. You took your upper hand to your advantage and threatened him " I can take your abuse, you will not break me and I will die before I let you touch me. Next time, I will scratch your eyes out." you hissed at him. He screamed for the other guards as he swung at you but you side stepped and tried running out but was caught by the other guards.

"Now, you will see what the king truly thinks of you once he discovers what you've done, witch. He will not be as merciful as I was. Bring her to the dungeons." he spits at you as you're dragged away.

You're thrown to the damp stone floor covered in hay, scratching your palms and knees as you roll on the floor.

"This is where you belong, witch." One of them says as the door locks behind you.

You hear their laughter fade as they walk away. The cell is disgustingly dirty, there is only a small space with bars that acts as a window. Besides the moonlight, you're left in complete darkness, the only sound to occupy your mind is the squeaks of the mice running around. You bring your knees to your chest and begin crying "What have I done? Why didn't I just let him do what he wanted? I wouldn't be here... At least I would have a chance at life... now I'm as good as dead" you cry to yourself.

The next day you're woken abruptly and dragged outside. Your hand are tied to a post and they rip open the back of your shirt.

Your heart races as you realize what is happening. You hear the Snake laugh and then the searing pain of the whip across your back.

You scream out in pain and dig your nails into the post to ground yourself.

"So the whore can scream afterall. Let's see how loud she can be. You've been holding out on me." the Snake mocks you.

This continued 10 times. For everyday the nurse said he would need to heal from the wound you created in his eye.

They drag you away and throw you back onto the dungeon floor. Bleeding profusely from your back, unable to move from the pain, you curly yourself into a ball and beg for death to take you.

You awake to a nurse tending to your back. You both stay quiet as she puts the familiar balm to your back and wraps your wounds to prevent infection.

Two days pass, no guards have come to bring you food or water. You're famished and parched. Your back is in continuous searing pain, your breathing has become more shallow every day. You're in such pain, you try to force yourself to sleep to avoid the pain. Eventually, you pass out. You're awakened by the sound of a crow squawking and the sun shining on you.

You look up and see the bird standing at the makeshift window, in between the bars. It crows a few times before turning around and flying away.

Even the birds don't want to be near me.

You hear heavy footsteps approach your cell when the Snake opens the door "Learned you lesson yet, witch? Get up, you reek. Bathe and get ready for work tomorrow. Maybe this will make you think twice before fighting me." he sneers at you.

You struggle to get up so he grabs you by the arm and yanks you to your feet making you shriek in pain from the deep cuts in your back.

"Shut up, harlot. Get out of my face." he spits at you.

You slowly walk out of the dungeons and back to the maids quarters. You're so weak, you collapse on your cot and pass out when you arrive.

🧹🧹🧹

You awoke before dawn, bathing to ease the pain. The nurse helps apply the balm to your back and wrap the wounds once more. You look at yourself in the mirror. Your left eye is severely bruised, you look exhausted and in pain.

Today you're placed on kitchen duty. You're slowly walking to the kitchen, when you see a crow fly overhead and land nearby on a statue.

A crow, again? ... Is it staring at me?

You shake your head in dismissal and you near the kitchen. You were to prep everything for the breakfast run before the cooks arrived.

You were deep in thought and humming to yourself while cutting vegetables and boiling some water to make yourself a coffee that you didn't notice somebody walk in behind you.

"Where have you been?" a familiar voice cuts through the silence. You yelp in surprise and cut your finger with the knife. You hiss in pain and rush to place a towel over it to stop the bleeding.

"Sorry darling, l keep frightening you." He approaches you but you back up in fear, your back hitting the kitchen counter. You groan out loud at the pain from your back hitting the counter. He stops and looks at you with hurt and confusion.

You keep your down "It's okay your highness. I'm fine." you say quietly.

He sighs "I've been looking for you."

Your eyes widen at that statement. Oh my god, he's going to kill me, just like the Snake said he would.

"Why were you replaced as my maid? I made no such request. I was very content with your work. Are you avoiding your king?" he presses on.

"Your highness, please. I will do as he says. I will not fight him next time. I beg you to please forgive me and spare my life. I was stupid, it was done in fear. I will never do it again!" you beg, your eyes brimming with tears. You're shaking, straining to breathe properly with the pain coursing through your entire body.

"What none sense do you speak of? Where were you?." he asks again, more urgently. It sounded more like a command than a question.

You bite your lip hard, making it bleed.

"My king...I don't... you ordered the guards..." you're unable to form a sentence through the fear shaking through you.

His eyes narrow and he inspects you and tries to make sense of the words you're hiccuping out.

"Who did I order to do what?" he asks you, his voice rising with anger.

I can't tell him. This is a trick. It was his orders. He knows, he wants to see if I will question his orders.

You take in a deep breath and steady yourself, stopping the tears from falling down your face.

If I avoid his question about the guards, I won't be lying to him.

"I requested a change of duties, your highness." you blurt out.

He looks taken aback "Why? Did I make you uncomfortable? Do you fear me?"

You're confused by his line of questions "No, your highness... I -"

"You're lying. I will give you one last chance." he says sternly.

You swallow thickly, your anger and frustration from the past months of mistreatment bubbles up inside. A sudden burst of confidence, you look up at stare at him. You notice his shock when he sees the damage to your face.

"No, your highness you did not make me uncomfortable. I have received your messages daily from the guards, and the whipping you ordered I received. I have heard the rumours and they ring true. You cannot blame me for fearing you."

"Whipping? Rumours? What -" Loki begins but is interrupted by the cooks entering the kitchen to start the day. His eyes fall to the bandages he can see at the bottom of your shirt, wrapping up and around your back. You see his eyes darken and his fists clench at his sides.

They freeze when they see the king speaking to you.

"Sorry your highness, we will -" one of the cooks begins.

"No. I will be taking my leave. There is something I must tend to."

He quickly exits the kitchen and the cooks stare at you in confusion. You dismiss their looks and return to your duties.

🧹🧹🧹

Part 4

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feedback is always welcome. Feel free to send me suggestions for scenes/drabbles that I could add into the stroy :)

Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

@gruftiela

@elegantcheesecakecrown

@chxco-hyujin

@cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

@i-am-amora-the-enchantress

[see-arcane]

I figured I should interrupt everyone's dash for some notes on current real life things.

This is a hefty one, so I'm tucking everything below:

A little good news. As of this writing, I’ve sold 74 copies of The Vampyres, in eBook and paperback! That’s 74 more than I thought I would ever sell! Thank you to everyone who picked up a copy or asked your library to grab some. Especially when I know I haven’t been the most stellar self-marketer. I can’t remember the last time I opened the septic tank formerly known as Twitter, so it’s all been down to this little corner here and a skinny appearance in Goodreads. Which means I owe any attention this short and sinister tale has received to you all and plain old word-of-mouth.

That said, thank you x100000 to you and any new readers yet to take a look. (And doubly so for those of you who go out of their way to leave comments and reviews around for me to reread ad infinitum.)

For those not in the know, all the info on The Vampyres can be found here, and all my author odds and ends can be found on my website here.

On a less heartening note…

As I’d already expected, the market for career writers is…rough. Copywriting—and writing in general—is technically a big open field (full of caveat descriptions about having to work with/teach AI programs to eventually swallow your job)! Tons of open positions! Most of which either pay you in pocket change while you’re working full time or expect you to singlehandedly run the entire marketing of a business for slightly more pocket change. Everything else is bloated with contract and/or freelance work*.

*Read: Gig economy schlock trying to pass for an actual job position with payment being a coin toss. I’ve also seen one too many listings on the job boards that are volunteer positions. Plenty of exposure to rake in though, right? Ha. Ha ha.

I’ve still been applying like clockwork, same as the rest of my fellow creators trying to get by in a field that seems to actively punish trying to be a professional in said field, and still no bites further than an interview. I have years of experience and a degree, but everyone’s chasing the same crumbs, so. Yeah. I’ve got to start padding things out.

Reminder that I do have a (barely peddled) Ko-Fi. It’s there for art commissions and chucking a few spare bucks at. Which is an increasingly big ask these days, I know. You can’t scroll two posts down without hitting someone else’s Ko-Fi, Patreon, GoFundMe, Kickstarter, et cetera. We’re drowning in arting starvists here. And although I have been asked before whether I would consider going full Freelance Storywriter on top of selling art, I’m still a little hesitant on it. I do occasionally send out story submissions and have even gotten published a few times, but I get nauseous thinking about:

1) Putting up a paywall on the scribbles that assail me like a baseball bat wielded by an unmerciful Muse. 2) Putting up a ‘Stories for Sale!’ sign only to wind up disappointing prospective buyers because I didn’t do their blorbos justice even after researching X background for the piece. 3) Getting duped into being a nonconsenting ghostwriter and discovering someone else has published my work under their own name.

So, still a bit iffy on that. I’ll chew on it. But what else is left?

Before you click the button!

Stop!

NOT YET!

Before you click, please know that I am being serious about this as something to potentially make 1) something of good quality and 2) earn more money than it loses. Looking around at the merch-making/selling options, there are fees involved with making an account just about anywhere in the online store game, give or take the price tweaking needed for shipping and manufacturing blah blah blah.

With that in mind, please do not automatically hit ‘yes’ because you want to be nice. I appreciate it, but this isn’t the same thing as the Ko-Fi where there’s no real loss in just leaving it up and drawing something once every few months. This will take new designs, another subscription to pay for, more logistics to untangle for quality and pricing and all the rest of the mess. Only hit ‘yes’ if you, personally, genuinely, would like to purchase some nefarious See Arcane wares beyond a book or a digital drawing.

[laurabenanti]

Duplicate Frame Deletion: A Likely Unnecessary Tutorial

So… you updated to MacOS Sonoma, and–while it is amazing in many regards for photoshop things–it is a dang bummer and mood killer if you use MPV. However, after slamming my head into a wall trying to change the code on my own, I realized there is a much, much simpler solution to this.

In this tutorial, I will be showing you all how to delete duplicate frames from your gifs, with two options:

duplicate finder

within photoshop

Under the cut because pictures are a visual learner’s best friend!

A quick note:

MPV is odd with this. I’ve not had to do this on 4k capping, but have had to on anything under that. I don’t know the full reasoning, but it mostly looks to be something with the way it is reading frame rate. I know it’s in the code, but could not pinpoint it myself, and these were the only tricks that worked. If you find a better solution, please let me know! It has been rough, otherwise.

Step 1: Cap in MPV as normal

Now, this may be obvious, but make your caps in MPV. For a full tutorial on this, I highly recommend this one by kylos. The only difference between our software and their suggestion is going to be using the newest version of MPV (.0.36 at the time of this), and not the older. This is because there is an issue with MacOS Sonoma and older versions of MPV that prevent it from opening for… Some reason.

Step 2: Make sure you have your caps

I recommend moving your caps to whatever folder you like for your own ease of use. My biggest rec is to have it in its own folder, with no older folders within the folder. Not really a requirement, but in my mind, it makes the process faster (only true depending on number of files in other folders). You should have something like this (I am doing a scene from TWOT, as it’s one I’ve tested this method on a few times in several instances):

Once there, it’s time for the line split. I recommend option 1 the most (it’s faster, IMO), but again, this is a two option thing.

Option 1: Duplicate File Finder

So, duplicate finders are what they sound like. They are pieces of software that can be used to scan your device (or specific sections of said device), for duplicate files. It does not matter the title of the file, if the system reads it as a copy, it will find it.

There are a number of varieties for this, paid and free. I will not lie, the one I use is a paid version, because I had a huge issue with duplicate files taking up space when I moved to a new device. This also helps a lot with cloud file keeping, in my opinion. But that is beside the point.

This is Duplicate File Finder Pro, which I got for other reasons, but has been very useful since this became an issue. The free version is sufficient for removing duplicate files found in folders, and that is why I still suggest it. You only need to get the pro if you have other intentions.

Now, onto the next step…

Step 3: Drag and drop the folder

With our folder full of caps, we simply drag and drop it into the application to begin.

Step 4: Click “Find duplicates” and watch the pretty graph roll.

Step 5: Select the duplicate images

You can see here it found the duplicates.

Now, I could go through by hand and click them, but… that’s a lot of time I don’t want to waste. I let it auto select them instead (you can tweak the settings for auto-select, but this is not that tutorial).

Step 6: Select review & remove, complete!

Wham bam! You’re completely set and good to go. Gif as normal~ (all final results at bottom)

Now, of course, maybe you don’t want a duplicate remover. Understandable, so what then? Well…

Option 2: Photoshop & the Changing Frame rate

So, this one is a little more technical. I suggest basic giffing and Photoshop knowledge before attempting.

Step 3: Import folder as you normally would

I believe this works as it would for import video, but I don’t want to say that and be wrong. But load your files in and you’ll be here:

Now create video timeline, make frames from layers, yada yada (kylos’ guide is very good with this if you need help, it’s the same that was linked at the beginning of this). You’ll now be here:

And the actual part of the tutorial you all came here for...

Step 4: Change the frame rate

So, in the bottom, next to the mountains for zooming in on the timeline, you’ll see it reads “30.00 fps.” We need to change this to 60. How? Easy! Click the three lines circled here:

Then click “Set Timeline Frame Rate…”

A little box will pop up, change the 30 to 15 (dropdown or typing, it works the same) and click “OK.”

Your timeline will now be cut in half for length. That’s OKAY. DO NOT PANIC.

(Optional) Step 5: Double Checking

Click play on your gif, and you’ll notice it is no longer duplicate framed! To verify, let’s convert back to frames, just to see…

And it did, success! So make the rest of your gif as normal.

Your final results for the gif will be the following, with the gifs all labeled on what option was taken (or not). These were cropped for uploading and sharpened because of how I am. No coloring applied.

If anything was confusing, please don't hesitate to reach out! I'm happy to help in any way I can on this. My ask is always open. Happy Giffing!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Burnt Out 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, anxiety/stress, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Robert Laing

Summary: you're stressed out and ready to escape, but the way out might not be as glamourous as it seems.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You flinch as you peel away the hangnail. Ugh. You need to stop doing that. Your hands are a mess. Short nails, brittle too. The skin and cuticles are fraying but not on their own. You can’t help it. A nervous habit. Stress. 

You’re not sure how much more you can take. It’s not a choice. Nothing in life is your choice. You didn’t even choose to be alive. Your parents always treated you like your existence was forced even on them. That barely matters. You haven’t seen either of them in years. 

You still your hands and go back to typing. If you don’t get this done, you’ll be in for another lecture from Mr. Brenner. ‘You haven’t finished the group reservation? You’re going to mess everything up again!’ 

Yeah, yeah. That’s how it goes. You can’t do anything right. It’s probably why you ended up here. You deserve this purgatory. 

As you import the files from the travel site and review for discrepancies, you hear the doors. Great, you’ll come back to it. You check the time. It’s not even noon. More bad news and the messenger is the first to be shot. 

You glance over the front desk and do a double take. Guilt speckles over your cheeks. The man is handsome. Tall and trim. You don’t know why you notice but you do. His blonde hair is neatly parted, yet there’s a small wave to it. He wears a fine grey suit which probably costs as much as a week of your minimum wage. 

It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t even occur to you. You deal with all sorts. The traveling businessmen, the body builders in town for the convention, and even those meeting for some forbidden tryst. Hotels are not the place for judgement. 

“Hello, sir, welcome to Sapphire Suites,” you smile. You usually only bother when Brenner is around to fume down your neck. “Do you have a reservation?” 

“I do,” he answers in his lilted accent. Oh. Deadly. “I understand I’m well ahead of check-in, however, I only came to inquire if I might leave my bags with you until then.” 

Polite and he reads the fine print. What more could a girl ask for? Usually, you’d be annoyed. Why would you come so early? Our housekeeping isn’t even done their first floor. Not today. He’s too pleasant to be irritated. 

“Well, I can certainly see if your rooms are ready. We weren’t booked up last night so it’s possible.” You offer. 

“That would be wonderful, so long as it doesn’t put you out,” he steps up to the desk as the wheels of his bag quiet. “Robert Laing. I believe I’ve got the executive.” 

You already know it’s ready. It’s expensive and rarely booked on weeknights. It’s only a Tuesday. 

“Let me see, Laing...” 

“L-A-I-N-G,” he spells it out. “No one expects the I.” 

“Oh, thanks,” you backspace and put in the proper spelling. Yep, it’s green. “Good news, it’s set. I just did the keycards so I’ll go grab yours.” 

You go back to the carefully organized folio, arranged by room number. You spent your first hour swipe and coding each one. You take his and bring it back with the liability form. 

“If you don’t mind, there is a waiver,” you put the paper down. “I’ll need a piece of ID as well. And a credit card.” 

“Of course,” he slides out his wallet and provides both cards. You take them as he looks over the form.  

You go to scan both and upload them into his file. You return them as he signs with a metallic pen, slipping it into his front pocket before sliding the page across. You thank him and scan that as well. You come back to hand over his keys and give him the spiel. 

You retract your hand as he looks down at it. You try to hide your chafed and cracking fingertips. You’re mess. Your name tag is barely hanging on and the scarf is crooked and only half under your collar. 

“Your WIFI and room service details are in here,” you point to the sleek little folio with his door cards. “Everything you need should be in your room. The pool is behind me and the private spa rooms can be booked by calling down. Oh—did you need a parking pass, sir?” 

“Please, Robert works for me,” he insists, “I flew in so not driving. Might I put in a request?” 

“Um, okay?” You stare at him anxiously.  

“Any recommendations for in-town activities? I’m egregiously early for the conference and I get restless pent up in hotels,” he drawls. “Perhaps a shopping center or if you’re permitted, any worthwhile bistros?” 

“Geez, I forgot to mention, there’s Ruby’s. The restaurant attached to us, just that way when you head out the doors. They have a patio but it’s getting a bit chilly. And er, the bar, The Gem, that’s on the second floor.” 

“Wonderful,” he covers the key folder with his hand. 

You smile. If Mr. Brenner was there to witness your immaculate customer service, he might just lay off of you. Or he’d ask why you didn’t smile more often.  

“You’ve been amazingly helpful, dear,” he says. “I do hope the day doesn’t prove very hectic for you.” 

“Thank you, sir—Um, Robert,” you correct yourself as his brow tweaks. 

“And you...” he leans forward to read your name tag. “Beautiful name.” 

“Thanks,” you swallow dryly, “enjoy your stay.” 

Finally, he leaves you. You watch him go, his bag rolling after his long strides. You don’t move until he’s closed up in the elevator. You want to cringe. You’re a mess and on top of that, you’re awkward to boot. It’s not that you don’t want to be good at your job, it’s that you hate it, and you’re no good with people. But work is work. 

You retreat into the back room and dig in your purse. Your lips are chapped and raw. You layer on the medicated balm and sigh. You take out the little daisy-shaped mirror and check your reflection. Aren’t you so stupid? Look at you. A man like that would never waste his time with a front desk worker ant, let alone someone so repulsive. 

[dorkynerd23]

My Problem With Vanitymoth/My Thoughts.

Hello guys!! Hope you're all doing good and well and you've been having a good and wonderful day/night. Now, this will sorta be a mixture of a critical/rant post, as this is someone I've been wanting to talk about as they're someone who's been criticized and talked about (mostly negatively) In regardless to the Murder Drones Community and I wanted to give my thoughts and opinions on this dude, as I don't think he's a very good cartoon reviewer but before I start PLEASE DON'T SEND ANY HATE!! This isn't meant for me to bash and send hate towards this dude, please don't do that shit as it's not worth it and doesn't make you any better, I just wanted to give my thoughts and criticisms about Vanity and his content, your allowed to critique him but don't send any hate. Anyways, the one I'm gonna be talking about is Vanitymoth and if you're not familiar and haven't heard of him, Vanity is basically a cartoon reviewer with about 12.8K subscribers and his first video which was uploaded back in 2022 (around the same year his channel was created) and was about Panty And Stocking and his channel wasn't as popular when he first started out and I discovered him around this time and thought his videos were decent and fine enough at the time, especially as he had a small following around the time but I honestly think it wasn't until he made his first MD video is when he really started to get more popular and I subscribed to him once he started making MD reviews as I was a huge fan around the time.

In the beginning I thought Vanity was a fine and decent enough reviewer and he seemed valid and gave some interesting points in his videos, but I started to notice some changes once he started putting out some more negative videos with one of the ones being his trashfire of a review on Lackadaisy and most of the time for his review he's just complaining and nitpicking as some stuff, (even though I do think in some aspects he can be valid) being negative most of the time, the only thing he really praises in Lackadaisy is the animation but doesn't bother really giving any more positive thoughts even though there is so much to adore and love about Lackadaisy, even if you aren't 100% familiar with the source material I think you'd still be able to follow along fine and enjoy the Pilot. But with Vanitymoth, it seems just didn't seem to understand and get the Pilot or what even the concept of a Pilot Is..the whole point of a Pilot Is to introduced you to the world, the setting where the story is taking place in and introduce the characters we'll be following along, and although Lackadaisy isn't perfect at all, no piece of media is, but I think they did a good job. Another thing Vanitymoth is that in his reviews for most of the time he thinks his opinions are the definitive answers to the direction the show is going and bashes people who actually know to have fun with the show and sees his opinions as definite facts.

He also constantly whined and complains about TADC getting more attention than MD, like he's complained about it a lot, he mentions it at some points in his "The Slow Death Of Murder Drones Fandom" and it seems he had an issue of another Glitch having another show going on that was more popular, like...you don't have to enjoy and like TADC but you don't need to put one show down to praise the other, why not enjoy both shows?? Also, the thing about the MD fanbase dying after the show ends, which I don't think will happen as the fandom has gotten bigger and popular since the Pilot's release and the show will still be rewatched and beloved by fans and others even now the show's over and just because a fandom doesn't interact 24/7 doesn't mean it's dead, that's like saying the Gravity Falls fandom died after the show ended..like the show is still popular and the fandom is still huge even years after the show's finale, besides Glitch has expressed that they wanna do more with MD in the future so we'll probably be seeing more of these characters in the near future, so that doesn't make sense and it seems Vanity only wants Glitch to favor MD only and it's just frustrating.

Now, let's discuss his MD reviews..alright so first let me started off my saying that I'm fine with being critical and being criticism and there's many things you can critique about MD as it's NOT a perfect show but as I said the thing with Vanity is that he seems so damn negative in almost all his MD reviews even though some points can be valid, but most of the time to me..his criticisms just seems in bad faith, not valid and just him pulling stuff and random theories out of nowhere to fit his own narrative. Let's point out and start on how he just doesn't understand and gets the characters in the slightest, he doesn't shy away or even try to hide in the slightest that he's got hatred for both N and Uzi, Nuzi especially as a couple..but is totally fine and ships Cyn and N together and then got pissed at the fanbase and acted like a baby because nobody liked the ship, like jesus dude..

And he's also mischaracterized the characters like most in the fandom do unfortunately but he's done it the most to both N and Uzi especially, like I said he doesn't shy away that he hates them with a burning passion. He's shown his hatered for Uzi (not even surprised in the slightest as he commissioned some hate art of Uzi getting beat up by J) and mischaracterized her and saying how her whole character is only involved around N and is blaming her just like some haters of Uzi and it's just frustrating..like UZI DIDN'T do anything wrong at all and characters can be characters on their own and have a love interest, I'm really sick and tired of all the Uzi hate is annoying as hell and frustrating, even after the finale Uzi is still getting hated and it's just so unjustified, Vanity and others need to realize that Uzi has gone through something called..."CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!" ✨💜 Y'all seem to NOT understand and get it and just wanna say certain things to make characters look worse and awful and overall don't get these characters, oh and don't get me started on his video about N's character analysis..and similar to Uzi, he doesn't understand and get N and called him "obsessive" over Uzi and and killed "Tessa" without a second thought and seems to see N as some yandere or something. And he's doing this all because he hates Nuzi, like you don't have to like this ship but acting this way and getting this mad and acting the way you do over a FUCKING ship is childish as shit, and another thing is that he literally pulled something from non-canon and called it a "pattern" because of Liam Vickers or some stuff like that and reading Vanity's so-called theories and analysis just reminds me of "Analysis so bad you don't even know what it's talking about anymore" thread over on Twitter, his video and the way he analysis N's character by ignoring his feelings and trying to paint him as this savior lunatic that's so obsessed with Uzi that he'd sacrifice the universe and loved ones just to have her is just...mischaracterization is an understatement, a straight-up bastardization of his entire personality and arc, Vanity doesn't understand or get any of these characters and gives these bad takes to make them look worse.

He's currently working on his review on the finale and I'm not looking forward to it in the slightest like as I said, I'm all for giving criticisms and you're allowed to love and be a fan of show I'm the same way, and I'm sure others are the same and don't blindly praise whatever they like 24/7 and see them as perfect, you're allowed to feel how you feel and you're valid and allowed to not like the finale. But most of the time in Vanity's videos is that it's mostly negative and he complains about almost anything, even nitpicking the smallest things and he barely discusses the positives about he reviews and uses his opinions as definite facts. It sucks because I really did enjoy and liked Vanity as a reviewer in the beginning as he did bring up some valid points and was decent as a YouTuber but as he kept on putting out more videos, getting more popular he just seemed to get more and more negative and I saw a quality drop in his videos, he's barely positive in his videos and it just makes him unpleasant and boring to watch and hard to fully enjoy his stuff.

Really hope this little rant sounded fair and was okay, I don't really do these type of posts anymore and don't wanna be mean as the intension of this post was to give some opinions on this person. Once again, this isn't me trying to send any hate to Vanity and I'll say once more, please DON'T send any hate and bother him, I just wanted to give my thoughts and opinions about him and his content as I've had some issues with his content since 2023'ish and wish he could improve as an reviewer and just be more fairer when it comes to what he reviews, along with seeing that people are allowed to enjoy and love more than one show and just because one show is getting more popular doesn't make another show any lesser, both TADC and MD are great and incredible shows made by talented and amazing people, Meta Runner is also another good (very underrated, btw) show and I know Gaslight District will probably be a great too, nobody shouldn't be holding and putting these shows against each other, bashing and praising different shows, please support all shows and indie animation as a whole. ❤️

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 6: But, Honestly, Something's Gotta Give

You and Joel review each other's lists. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 5, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Semi-graphic description of masturbation. Mention of drug and alcohol addiction. Mention of past drug overdose. Diet culture type language. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 10.3K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Hey you!” 

You managed to resist the urge to groan when your sister threw the door open, her hip popped against it and a large glass bottle clutched in the hand she’d put in the air in excitement. 

“Please tell me that’s not wine,” you said, trying to see the label on the bottle. 

“Oh you’re such a buzzkill,” Anna rolled her eyes and visibly deflated a bit. “And no, of course it’s not wine. It’s sparkling cider, heaven forbid a girl wants to do something different once in a while…” 

“Sorry,” you said, hands up in surrender as she stepped aside and let you in. You gave her a quick hug before following her toward the kitchen. “How’ve you been?” 

“Drunk off my ass and high all the time,” she made a mocking face over her shoulder at you. “Oh wait, no, that’s just what my sister thinks I’ve been doing…” 

“You answered the door with something that looks like a wine bottle in your hand and you’ve been out of rehab for all of two months,” you said, voice sharper than you’d really intended it to be.  “Think my question was pretty reasonable.” 

“You know, a little trust would be nice,” she said, stopping at the counter and pouring the cider into two waiting wine glasses. “Kinda hard to rebuild my life if fucking no one in it trusts me to do it.”

You sighed

“You’re right,” you said, sitting at the kitchen table. “I’m sorry. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.” 

You held up a box of candy and shook it, the little squares inside rattling in their paper and plastic confines as you did. 

“I brought you chocolate,” you smiled at her. 

“Buying my love, hm?” She asked, setting a drink in front of you before sitting down at the seat beside you. You just shrugged as she pulled off the lid, wiggling her fingers over the various truffles before selecting one without looking at the map explaining the varieties. “Well, it worked. I forgive you.” 

She bit into the candy and made a face, scrunching her nose. 

“Ugh,” she said, holding out the remaining half of the truffle, brushing it over your lips. “Coconut. Disgusting.” 

“I don’t want your spit candy…” you leaned away from her but her hand shot forward and stuffed the piece in your mouth as you spoke, making you cough for a moment before you gave up and just chewed it. “You’re disgusting.” 

“And you’re lame,” she said. “So we’re even.” 

“So,” you said, swallowing the candy. “How are you doing? Really?” 

She shrugged, her fingers lingering over the box again as she selected her next piece.

“Fine, I guess,” she said. “I have a job interview next week…” 

“No shit!” Your eyes went wide, impressed. “That’s amazing, where at?” 

“OK, be less excited because otherwise it’s going to be a letdown,” she rolled her eyes a little. “But, believe it or not, it’s an office job. Data entry. It’s going to be total bullshit but it was a foot in the door which, right now? I’ll take.” 

“Congratulations!” You smiled, genuinely happy for her. “That’s exciting.” 

She shrugged again. 

“Only exciting if I get it. And even then… pretty damn lame.” 

“A steady paycheck is only lame until you realize how nice it is,” you said. “I think you’ll like a little stability and independence.” 

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I think you’re right. It just feels weird to be at this stage right now in my life, you know? I didn’t finish college, I have no job experience. I thought my life was going to just always be my life and now it’s not. I’m basically starting from scratch at 29. Less than scratch, I’m already divorced and have two stints in rehab under my belt.” 

You shrugged. 

“Scratch isn’t so bad.” 

“Ah right, my sister in arms, fellow member of the hot young divorcee club,” she smirked, grabbing another chocolate and popping it in her mouth before nodding slowly. “This one’s better, caramel.” 

“Not divorced yet,” you signed, rapping your fingers on the side of your glass. “Gale keeps sending over new terms… I feel like this is never going to end.” 

“It can take a while,” she nodded knowingly. “Hell, even when you’re on decent terms it takes a while, take it from someone who knows.” 

“Speaking of our exes, how is dear old Joshy?” You asked. Anna rolled her eyes a little but you saw the corners of her lips pull up. “Josharoonie. Joshimiah.” 

“Shut up. And he’s fine, last I heard,” she said. “I haven’t seen him in a bit.” 

“Really?” You said. “I’m impressed.” 

“Not that impressive,” she muttered, taking a sip of her drink. 

“Uh huh,” you replied. “Hon, I remember a time that you couldn’t stay away from him for five minutes and I remember him convincing you that oh, no, it’s just a little wine, just a little pot, just a little coke…” 

“Yeah, he’s way less hot shit when I’m sober as it happens,” she laughed a little. “God, yeah, I don’t know that I would have made it down the aisle with him if I’d been sober. I was three bottles of wine deep that day…” 

“Yeah, I remember,” you laughed a little, too. “That really should have been red flag number one, you had to get hammered to marry the guy. I probably should have tried harder to stop you.” 

“Eh,” she shrugged. “Can’t hold it against you. Not like your taste in men was all that great. No offense.” 

You just shrugged noncommittally. It was easier than arguing. You weren’t sure why you kept wanting to defend Gale to people. It’s not like he was being especially kind or caring as your marriage dissolved. It wasn’t like he’d been especially kind or caring toward you in a very long time. 

But something in you grated at people’s distaste. You were divorcing him, yes, but it’s not like you’d lost all your feeling for the man. You still cared about him. You still loved him. Or you thought you did, anyway. Sometimes, you weren’t sure if it was him you loved or if it was the life you had before that you longed for, the gentle stability of a partner who you knew would put his hand in the small of your back when maneuvering around you in the bathroom in the morning and would program the coffee pot before you went to bed at night. There was a comforting, quiet certainty in knowing the pattern of someone’s scars and where to find them in the dark. You hadn’t had that in a while. 

But you hadn’t had any kind of special consideration in even longer, your husband paying you and your wants and needs very little mind as the two of you moved along toward divorce through the final years of your marriage. It was slow at first - curt words and quick frustrations - and then all at once, with raised voices and wounds that cut deeper than you’d realized at the time. 

Part of you wondered if Gale would have stayed as he was when you met him if it wasn’t for you. Like maybe you’d driven him to this version of himself, the version that seemed to be vindictive and mean now and had been thoughtless and cold as everything collapsed. Maybe, if you’d been less infuriating or self centered or immature, he’d have remained his brilliant, pensive self. Maybe he’d still have wanted to steal you away into his office to go down on you between classes, your legs spread wide as he pulled your ass to the edge of his desk and plunged his tongue inside of you. Maybe he’d still want to take you to restaurants you didn’t know to eat foods you’d never tried, his hand slipping up your thigh as he fed you your first bite of caviar. Maybe he’d still call you Doll and look at you like you had something worth experiencing somewhere inside you.

Maybe you’d ruined him. Maybe you’d ruined everything. 

The oven timer dinged and Anna jumped up, grabbing pot holders and pulling a baking dish out of the oven as you frowned. 

“What?” She asked, getting out plates. “I invited you over for lunch, I was obviously going to feed you.” 

“OK, yeah, not obvious,” you said. “And I figured that it might mean… I don’t know, sandwiches or something, what is that?” 

“Mom’s mac and cheese,” she smiled, proud. You gaped at her for a moment. “What! I was a housewife for years, I did pick up a few skills.” 

“You followed Joshamania around on tour for years,” you corrected her. “I don’t think you had the facilities to make Mom’s mac and cheese at your disposal.” 

“OK so maybe it’s a new skill,” she said, spooning the food onto plates. “But I’m not totally useless.” 

She put the plate in front of you - it was chipped, one of the same ones you’d eaten off of every day as a kid - and sat next to you, tucking her leg below her as she did before the two of you dug into the pasta. 

It smelled warm and familiar, a little like your kitchen on Anna’s birthday when you were kids and you took a bite. But you only chewed it for half a second before you dropped the food back on your plate and grabbed the glass of sparkling juice, chugging it as Anna made a disgusted face. 

“What did you do to it?” You coughed, trying to get the taste out of your mouth. “That’s the saltiest thing I’ve ever eaten!” 

“It said to salt the water!” She coughed, too. “And add salt to taste in the sauce…” 

“Did you taste it?” You asked, brows raised. “And how much salt did you put in the water?” 

“I don’t know!” She said. “It didn’t say how much to put in. And no, I didn’t taste it, I thought it’d be gross to eat out of the pan I was cooking in…” 

“This is what’s gross,” you said before pouring another glass of juice and chugging that, too. “Jesus… that tour bus really didn’t have a kitchen did it?” 

“Nope,” she took the bottle and just started drinking straight from it. “But if it did, I’d probably have killed half the band…” 

You snorted at that, almost shooting sparkling juice out of your nose when you did. As the two of you regained your composure, you looked at your little sister. It sometimes felt like the two of you had gone down completely opposite paths, everything about you so disparate it was like she was a total stranger to you. 

It’s not as though you were related by blood. Your parents had adopted Anna when she was a baby and you were almost three years old, back when their marriage was still functional and bringing another child into it sounded like a good idea instead of total insanity. But you’d have thought growing up together with the same parental neuroses and sharing the same bathroom would have made it so you somewhat resembled each other in the way your lives had turned out. 

It hadn’t, though. You were valedictorian of your high school class, went to an ivy league school, got a doctorate and started teaching at your alma mater. You’d married the first real boyfriend you had, the only time you’d ever interacted with a cop was the two times you’d been pulled over for speeding and you could count the number of concerts you’d been to on one hand. 

Anna, on the other hand, had finished high school by the skin of her teeth. She’d been in her first semester of community college when your mother died and she dropped out almost immediately, no matter how hard you tried to talk her out of it. She got involved with a protest group for a while before she started following her favorite band on tour. She ended up sleeping with half of them before she wound up married to the guitarist. Your life had been quiet and stable and hers had been free and exciting and yet you’d both wound up back in your home town, divorced and trying to figure out where to go next. 

Maybe you were more like her than you realized. 

“I think I have the stuff for sandwiches,” she said, shoving back from the table and heading for the fridge. “Because yeah, that’s inedible…” 

“Don’t worry about it on my account,” you said, pushing the offending plate away. “I’m going to dinner with Joel in a few hours so…” 

“Joel?” She straightened up from behind the fridge door, her eyebrows raised as she watched you. “Wait, like a date?” 

“Please,” you scoffed. “It’s Joel. Be real.” 

“Right, you’re too straight laced for someone like that,” she rolled her eyes, going back into the fridge. 

“No I’m not!” 

“Yes, you are,” she said, standing up again and bumping the door closed with her hip. She came back to the table and dropped a Lunchable in front of you. You raised your eyebrows and she glared at you. “Not a fucking word.” 

“I didn’t say a thing,” you said, pulling back the plastic wrap lid. “And you know that you couldn’t pay Joel enough to date me…” 

She scoffed, opening her own Lunchable. 

“I’m not his type!” You protested, resisting the urge to kick her under the table. 

“Type schmype,” she waved you off. “Mom always thought you two were going to get married one day…” 

“Yeah, because her judgement was always so stellar,” you rolled your eyes, making a little sandwich of meat and cheese and crackers. 

“Say what you want about her taste in men but Mom knew you,” Anna said, her tone almost uncomfortably earnest. “You’re so much like her. So, so like her. She knew. And she said it, even after you were engaged to Gale she said it. Because she knew.” 

“Well,” you shrugged after a moment. “She got it wrong.” 

You ended up staying at Anna’s for a few hours. She told you more about the meetings she was attending, how she liked her sponsor. Things seemed to be going well for her, it was stabilizing. So much better than it had been when you’d decided to come back to Texas a few months earlier. She’d passed out at a party after taking drugs from someone she barely knew. Thankfully, someone she was there with was smart enough to get her to a hospital when she wouldn’t wake up. You’d flown down and sat with her at the hospital, talked to her doctors, helped convince her to go to rehab. For a few torturous hours on the plane ride, you thought you might lose your sister, too. That you’d have no one and you’d be adrift in the world, lost and alone and as empty of meaning as you’d always been afraid you were. You’d decided then that, if Anna lived, you were moving back.

But navigating your relationship with Anna since was a balancing act. Part of you wanted to become her mother, to take care of her and guide her and support her through everything. It seemed safest, making decisions for her since she seemed to be so bad at making them for herself. But you knew that wasn’t tenable, not really. She was fiercely independent, she always had been. She’d rather make all the wrong decisions on her own than have someone make the right ones for her. But being just her sister didn’t feel like enough, not when she was struggling and trying to find her way. 

“I hope you and Joel have fun tonight,” she said in a sing song voice as she walked you to the front door.

“You’re obsessed,” you rolled your eyes. “I promise, it’s nothing interesting…” 

“You two have been spending a lot of time together for nothing interesting.” 

“We’ve always spent a lot of time together,” you said, turning to face her as she stood in the doorway. “He half lived at our house when we were kids if you recall.” 

“Yeah, you were in love with him then, too,” she smirked. 

“Not even going to dignify that with a response,” you said, not wanting to think about how well your sister seemed to know you. “You know where to find me if you need me, right?” 

“Oh gosh,” she huffed dramatically. “Joel’s?” 

“Alright, bye!” You waved and Anna cackled.

“Hey,” she called from her door as you went to get to the car. “I’m happy you’re back.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Believe it or not, I’m happy I’m back too.” 

***

“You got everything?” Joel asked, herding Sarah toward the truck. 

“Yes Dad,” she rolled her eyes. 

“Got your pajamas?” 

“Yes.” 

“Clothes for tomorrow? Including clean underwear?” 

She sighed. 

“Yes, duh.” 

“Don’t ‘duh’ me,” he said. “You forget stuff you need all the time and I’m not gonna just be at home waitin’ for you to need something tonight. If you forget it, you’re on your own kid.” 

“I have everything.” 

“Vanessa’s present?” 

“Dad,” she stopped and looked at him. “I’m 11. I’m basically a teenager. I have all my stuff.” 

Joel tried really hard to not laugh. 

“Alright,” he said. “In the truck, you almost teenager.” 

She smiled proudly before obeying. 

“Can I put on my playlist?” She asked, leaning between the front seats. 

“You have to give me the phone then,” he said. “And you have to sit back and buckle up.” 

She pulled up the playlist before dropping the phone in his hand and sitting back. 

“You excited for Vanessa’s birthday party?” He asked as he started the playlist. “Seatbelt.” 

“Yeah!” She said, obeying and buckling up. “Melanie is gonna be there, too, and she was bringing her karaoke machine. Can I get a karaoke machine?” 

“You gonna let me use it?” Joel asked, looking at her in the rear view mirror. 

“Only if you sing something besides old man music,” she smirked at him. 

“I don’t listen to old man music…” 

“You listen to old man music,” she said. “You’re gonna tell Aunt Goldie I say hi, right?” 

“I’ll tell her you say hi,” he smiled a little. “Even though I figured we’d pretend the world didn’t revolve around you for one night…” 

Sarah scoffed and he could tell she was trying not to smile, too. 

“The world revolves around me every night,” she said. “As it should.” 

Joel laughed and pulled up in front of Vanessa’s house. 

“Alright center of the universe,” he said, pausing the music and handing her the phone. “Go, have fun, be on your best behavior…” 

“You too,” she said, getting out of the truck before pausing on her way out the door. “Dad, I think I forgot something…” 

Joel sighed. 

“What do you need, Baby Girl?” 

She just laughed. 

“I’m just messing with you. Have fun!” 

Sarah jumped out of the truck before he had a chance to respond and ran to the door, her duffle bag bouncing on her arm. He waited until she was safely inside and waved to Vanessa’s mom - whose name he could never fucking remember - before he headed to your place. 

He hadn’t just triple checked to make sure that Sarah had everything she needed, he’d also made sure he was ready, too. 

Joel wasn’t sure why he was so anxious. It’s not like he didn’t see you all the damn time now. It seemed like if the two of you weren’t hanging out you were texting. Even though it sometimes felt like you were getting reacquainted, it was still like you just knew him, knew him on a level no one else ever had. But this was different. He was deliberately owning up to all the things he wanted to change about himself, all the ways he’d fallen short in his life. It was uniquely vulnerable. He didn’t want to go in unprepared. 

So he’d made sure he had the list. And that the list didn’t make him sound like a total fucking idiot. He got his truck washed. He made sure he had a pair of pants that weren’t just blue jeans and a clean shirt with a collar. 

He knew that things weren’t going perfectly for you, either. That was the whole point of this entire plan, the two of you figuring out your lives together. But you were still you. He wanted you to know him but he also wanted you to know the best of him. Not the shitty things, not the things he was ashamed of. But… you were still you, the only person he’d want to do something like this with. He’d just have to get past it. 

Joel took a deep breath and knocked on your door. You opened it almost immediately, putting in an earring as you did. You were in a dress that looked like it had been made for you, skimming over your body, dipping low enough that he could see the curve of your breasts and, for half a second, Joel’s mind went back to the night before in the pool. You’d been so close then. He could feel all of you against him, all your softness and all your warmth - even if your hands were cold. There was a moment he lived in for longer than he wanted to admit, one where it felt like it would have been OK to kiss you, to hold your body tightly to him, to pull you inside and peel off your swimsuit so he could run his hands over the goosebump prickled flesh below. He’d come to that thought, alone in his bed once he was sure Sarah was asleep and he wouldn’t be interrupted. He’d come so hard he had to muffle his moans and he stayed there, cock in his hand as he stared up at the ceiling, as he tried to shove the thought of you away. You didn’t want that, you’d made that much perfectly clear more than a decade before. This wasn’t going to take him anywhere good. 

And now you were standing there, in a dress that couldn’t make you look more appealing if it was designed by temptation itself. 

God fucking dammit. 

“Jesus, Goldie,” he said after he collected himself as much as he could. “Feelin’ a little underdressed here.” 

“Shit,” your eyebrows drew together and you looked down at yourself. “I don’t have much that’s  dressy, this was from this cocktail event the university wanted to trot me out like some show pony for last fall… I can see what else I have if you’re OK to wait for a minute….” 

You turned to go back inside but Joel caught your wrist and you frowned.

“You look great,” he said. “Besides, I know how long ‘a minute’ is in woman getting ready time…” 

“Oh fuck off.” 

“…and I’m starving. Let’s go.” 

You gave him an exasperated look before shrugging into a trench coat and grabbing your bag and gold notebook from the table just inside the door. 

“You look good, too, by the way,” you said once the two of you were in his truck and he was heading for the restaurant you’d picked the other day. Joel scoffed. “Hey! I mean it, you do. Should wear something besides jeans and t-shirts or flannels now and then, you clean up well.” 

“Next time we hang out, I’ll rent a tux,” he smirked a little and glanced at you, just catching a glimpse of your eye roll as he did. “Polish up my shoes, whole nine…” 

“Should just buy the tux,” you replied. “Seems like a smart investment for a man of your profession and lifestyle…” 

“Oh, sure.” 

“Got all those galas to go to…” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Awards shows…” 

“Naturally.” 

“Black tie weddings.” 

“You gonna get some nice formal gowns?” He teased back. “Come with me to all these hoity-toity outings?”

You laughed. 

“Sure, Joel. I’ll be your back up date to any and all formal events.” 

The restaurant you wanted to try was definitely nicer than anything Joel had gone to in a while but it’d been easy for you to talk him into it. He remembered you being more excited about food when you were kids, how you’d watch his mom in the kitchen sometimes when you stayed for dinner or how you’d reach over and steal fries off his tray at the burger place down the street from your apartment when you were so hungry that your own fries weren’t going to cut it. Now, though, it seemed like anytime he wasn’t deciding what you were eating you ate the kind of shit that you scrunched your nose up at in high school. People and tastes could change, of course. He wasn’t stupid. But it didn’t feel like you. It felt like some holdover from that jackass you’d spent the last decade with. 

So as soon as you texted him the menu and just said “They have Osso buco!” he was in. He didn’t know what the fuck Osso buco was, he was just excited to see you excited about something that made you happy when he knew you before. 

The hostess sat the two of you in a quiet corner, giving you a knowing look, and Joel more watched you pore over the menu than read his own, an intense and serious look on your face as you went through it line by line. 

“If I got a bottle of wine, would you have at least a glass?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes from across the table. 

“Anything for you, baby,” he teased. 

“I hate you.” 

Joel scoffed. 

“No you don’t. And yes, I’ll drink your alcoholic juice.” 

“Good,” you said, looking back down at the menu. “Because the one I really want isn’t available by the glass and I don’t need that much wine…” 

“Look at you, all fancy and shit,” he said. “Ordering your wine by the bottle…” 

“Almost like we’re grownups,” you said absently. “What are you getting?” 

“Why, so you can steal some?” He asked, brows raised. 

You looked at him, face serious. 

“Yes. Duh.” 

Joel sighed. 

“You’re the worst person. And I’m getting the spaghetti. Don’t bother calling me lame, I know I’m lame.” 

“Well, as long as you’re aware,” you said, looking back at the menu. 

“What are you getting, Miss ‘I order whole bottles of wine’ level of adult? That one thing you were excited about? The Oss… whatever the fuck?” 

“Osso buco,” you smiled across the table at him. “And probably that…. But it’s probably more than I really need and…” 

“Goldie,” Joel cut you off, tone serious enough that you actually, fully lifted your gaze from the menu in front of you. “Don’t let that asshole ruin this. Get the… whatever it is.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Osso buco it is.” 

Once the food was ordered and the wine was poured, Joel put his list next to him on the table and you did, too, your ever present gold notebook sitting in front of you. 

“So,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt. “How do you want to do this?” 

“You first?” You asked, wincing a little. 

He nodded and looked over the list one last time before turning it around and putting it in the middle of the table. You leaned over - don’t look down your dress, don’t look down your dress, don’t look down your dress - and started reading. 

“It’s not in any real order,” Joel said, cupping the back of his neck. “Just… wrote shit as I thought of it.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“Throw Sarah a pool party,” you said. 

“Yeah,” he laughed a little. “She’s been sayin’ the last few years that she wants a pool party for her birthday but… I’ve just been too swamped to make it happen. Always end up taking her and her friends somewhere like Putt Putt Golf or something, somewhere I don’t have to plan shit, I can just show up. She always has fun but I know she’d like the pool party. I just need to make sure my shit is together enough to do it.” 

“Play music again,” you moved on to the next item and you frowned, looking up at him. “You stopped?” 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Well, no. I didn’t stop playing at home but… Before Sarah was born, there were a few local places I played at sometimes. Back then, it was because I hoped I’d meet some record label asshole who’d sign me. But I miss it. It was fun, playin’ for people. Would like to do that again.” 

You nodded, going back to the list. 

“Start your own contracting company,” you smiled at that. “Business owner Joel Miller…” 

“Future business owner,” he corrected you. “Don’t own shit yet. Not sure I know how to own shit.” 

“You’re smart,” you said. “And I’m pretty sure by our powers combined, we can at least Google a lot of this stuff.” 

“Probably should have done what you told me,” he said. “Gotten my damn associates…” 

“I am right about most things,” you said. There was no smugness in your voice, almost the opposite. Like you were sorry you’d been right about this thing in particular. 

“Just didn’t see the point then,” he sighed. “Hindsight is 20/20, I guess.” 

“It tends to be that way,” you conceded before looking back down at the paper. “Design one big project… is that a work one?” 

“Yeah,” he smiled a little sheepishly. “Figured… I dunno, it’ll take a bit to get my own business going, you know? Gonna keep working for the company I work for now for a bit yet. Should try and make it something I like while I’m there.”

You smiled at him in that way you had, the way that started small but spread fast. It reminded him of the way light started to poke through curtains in the morning, slipping in through a crack, illuminating the things directly around it before they were thrown open entirely and the sun broke through everything, spilling onto every surface, drowning out the darkness quick and sure. 

“Good,” you said, still smiling in that wide, open way. “You should like your job, you’re there too much to not like it.” 

You went back to the list and Joel took a sip of wine. 

“Find a stable relationship,” you said, a little quieter.  

The server returned, putting your plates in front of the two of you and you cleared your throat, setting the paper to the side and smiling kindly as the waiter asked if there was anything else the two of you needed before excusing himself. 

“OK,” Joel said, looking at your food from across the table. “I see why you were excited now, that looks fuckin’ delicious.” 

He reached over and stabbed his fork into the meat on your plate as you gaped at him, appalled. He ate the bite he’d taken, chewing thoughtfully. 

“Yup,” he said. “Fuckin’ delicious.” 

“You’re such a dick!” You reached over and stabbed your fork into his pasta. 

“Hey!” 

You ignored him, twirling your fork haphazardly as you tried not to lean into the food in front of you before taking it back across the table. You ate the spaghetti and nodded to yourself as you did. 

“Definitely scratch pasta,” you said. “Have to come back here and get some of my own. Or just steal more of yours…” 

“If you want pasta, order pasta,” he said. 

“If you want Osso buco, order Osso buco,” you replied, fork up and ready to stab his hand if it creeped across the table.” 

“Maybe I will, now that I know what it is,” he teased, digging into his own plate this time. 

“So,” you said after the two of you had the time to have a few bites of food. “Stable relationship, huh?” 

“Yup,” he nodded, taking a sip of wine. “Not sure I even want to own up to the last time I had one of those…” 

“When was the last time?” You frowned, picking up your wine glass. 

“Can’t judge me.” 

“Too late,” you smirked a little. He glared at you and you laughed. “Come on, Joel. It’s me. I always judge you all the time.” 

He rolled his eyes and then sighed. 

“It’s… been a while,” he said eventually. “But… Haven’t been on more than three dates with anyone since Sarah was about four.” 

Your eyes went wide. 

“I said you can’t judge me!” 

“I’m not judging!” You said quickly. “Just… shocked is all. You always had a tendency to go through them fast but I always kind of figured you’d outgrown that over the years.” 

“Well, less fast now and more that women in their 20s don’t really want to play stepmom,” he said wryly. “Never got as far as introducing any of ‘em to Sarah, haven’t bothered really looking since I’ve been in my 30s. But… I dunno. It’d be nice, I think. Have someone to come home to, that sort of thing.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“What?” He asked after you were quiet for what seemed like too long. 

“Can I ask what happened with Sarah’s mom?” You asked, fork hovering over your plate. “I don’t want to dredge anything up but…” 

Joel shrugged. 

“Not much to dredge up,” he said. “We… well, we were… casual. Real casual. She got pregnant, I tried to do the right thing but she wasn’t really interested in that…” 

You frowned. 

“Right thing?” 

“Suggested we go down to the courthouse,” he twisted the slender stem of wine glass in his thick fingers. “Make it legal. Since we were bringin’ a kid into the world seemed like the least we could do but… anyway. She said no but that she’d try dating me. We didn’t have much in common, didn’t get along all that well for longer than a few hours. Her shootin’ me down was probably one of the best things to happen to me, really. Especially when it came to untangling the legalities of it all when she took off.” 

You winced. 

“I’m really sorry, Joel,” you said softly. “That… that’s shitty. It really, really is.” 

He shrugged. 

“I got Sarah,” he said. “Do it all again in a heartbeat for that kid.” 

You smiled at that, a smaller, softer smile, one that felt like it was just for him. 

“It all worked out the way it was supposed to,” you said. “None of it was a mistake, it was just… Sarah, being inevitable.” 

He laughed once at that, smiling a little. He liked thinking of it that way, his life putting itself in just the right order that his daughter could exist. Now, he just needed to put it in the right order that he felt like he was doing something with the rest of it. 

“Alright,” he said. “Enough about my shit, let’s see yours.” 

You handed him his list back and opened your notebook, holding it to your chest for a moment. 

“Remember the lack of judgement I gave you,” you cautioned. “I expect the same back.” 

“So plenty of judgement,” he smirked a little. “Got it. 

You glared. 

“Gimme the list, Goldie.” 

You sighed and handed it over. 

Joel took half a second to appreciate the fact that he was holding your notebook again. For something that was always with you, it was something he rarely touched and never opened himself. You’d shown him one or two things inside it before but you’d never just surrendered it to him like this. He had to fight the urge to flip to the start of it and read everything he could, try to swallow up every thought you’d had that you thought was important enough to put down on paper. 

Instead, he just cleared his throat and started at the top of your list. 

“Finalize divorce,” he said, eyes tracing over your letters. “That’s a good one. Where you at in that whole process?” 

“I have no idea,” you sighed. “Every time I think we’re close the agreement gets tossed out and we start back over. I swear he’s just trying to piss me off sometimes…” 

“Probably is,” Joel said. “He’s a jackass.” 

“So you keep saying,” you half smiled at him. 

“My only issue with this one is that it’s not something you can really control,” he said, looking over the table to you. “I don’t want you beating yourself up or taking less than you deserve because you’re trying to tick a box…” 

“I won’t,” you said. “Don’t worry.” 

“Better not,” he said, looking back down at the paper. “Finish book, alright. That one you can control…” 

“Kind of control,” you corrected him, a crooked smile on your face. “Sometimes, the words just won’t come and there’s not much you can do about it.” 

“Still,” he said. “Got more control over that than anything with fuckin’ Brad…” You shook your head a little, exasperated, but were still smiling. “Have any idea about what you want this one to be about?” 

“Not really,” you sighed. “I’ve started a few things but I keep scrapping it. So many outlines for no goddamn reason…” 

“You’ll get there.” 

“Maybe,” you poked at the meat on your plate. “Or maybe I told the only story I have that’s worth telling. Maybe I’m all used up.” 

“You’re not,” he said gently. You nodded a little but kept looking at your plate. “Hey. Goldie. Look at me.” You sighed and obeyed, meeting his eyes, your face frustrated but your gaze sad. “You’re not. You’re…. You’re fuckin’ amazing, you’re gonna make something great. You are.” 

You smiled tightly and, for a moment, looking at you was too intimate to do in public. He looked back down at the page. 

“Be there for Anna,” he said. “What, like you aren’t now?” 

“I still haven’t figured out how to do it right,” you replied. “I just… I need to find the right balance. And I need to make sure I keep up with her, I can’t just… I’m worried she’s going to land herself back in the hospital and I’m her big sister. I need to make sure she doesn’t.” 

He just nodded, jaw tight, moving on to the next item. 

“Go on a date,” he said, a twinge in his gut that he didn’t want to acknowledge. “Alright, that’s not bad…” 

“Yeah, I think I’ll need your help with that,” you said and his head shot up, meeting your eyes across the table. 

“What… how?” 

“Oh, don’t panic,” you waved him off. “Not expecting you to do it. But I’ve never used a dating app or anything like that, I have no idea how to meet someone now. I imagine you’re an expert…” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

“What! It’s a good skill to have,” you said. “One that I am painfully lacking. I’ll take all the help I can get.” 

He sighed. Because of course this would mean finding you a date. Jesus. 

“Yeah, I’ll help,” he said. “Make sure you’re not attracting any weirdos…” 

“Not sure that you’re the best help for that part,” you teased. He rolled his eyes. “But… thank you.” 

“Yup.” 

He went back to the paper. 

“Get a cat. Really?” 

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. “I’m kind of tired of how empty my house feels but I’m not up for taking care of a dog. And cats are cute.” 

“Promise you’re not just gonna turn into a cat lady?” He teased, looking back to you. “Get yourself a dozen of ‘em, use them as an excuse to never put yourself out there.” 

“That’s between me and my cats, isn’t it?” You teased back. “Don’t get mad because you’re at risk of being replaced by a fluffy thing who sometimes scratches the shit out of my furniture.” 

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t scratch the shit out of your furniture,” he said wryly and you snorted. He went back to the list, taking a sip of wine and almost choked on it. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed the last item on the list until now, written in red ink instead of black and circled. 

“What?” You asked. He glanced up at you before looking back at the paper. 

“Well…” he cleared his throat. “Last one’s… interestin’.” 

“Oh,” you laughed. “Yeah… right…” 

He put the notebook in the middle of the table and tried to regain his composure for a moment. 

“Surprised it’s a priority for you…”

“Well I don’t know about priority,” you laughed. “But, honestly, something’s gotta give…” 

“Well,” Joel cleared his throat again. “Have you fucked anyone since Brad?” 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer. 

“Goldie.” 

“Joel.” 

“C’mon.” 

“No, alright?” You snapped. “I haven’t.” 

“And you two separated when?” 

You scrunched your nose. 

“Come on,” he said. “When’d you break up…” 

“A year ago last month,” you muttered, not looking at him. 

“Goldie!” 

“What!” 

He lowered his voice and leaned conspiratorially across the table towards you. 

“You haven’t had sex in a year?” He hissed. “That’s… how…” 

“Hey,” you replied, pointing at him accusingly from across the table. “That is not what I said.” 

Joel frowned, his eyebrows knitting together as he watched you. 

“What do you mean that’s not…” his eyes went wide as you avoided his gaze. “Goldie.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?” You snapped. “Come on.” 

“So when was the last time you fucked your soon to be ex-husband while you were in the process of divorcing him?” He asked, looking around as though someone would overhear and make problems. 

“Well now I really don’t want to say…” 

“Goldie.” 

“Please don’t make me say it.” 

“I’m not dropping this,” he said. “When was the last time?”

“The night before I left Rhode Island, OK?” You hissed, voice low. 

“Goldie!” 

“Look, it was just like… I don’t know, a goodbye fuck, OK?” You sat back in your seat and adjusted your skirt, looking anywhere but directly at him. “It’s not like I have a bunch of people waiting in the wings, I wasn’t sure when I’d have the chance again, it seemed appropriate…” 

“Definitely wasn’t that…” 

“Never should have mentioned this…” 

“Gonna move ‘get laid’ to the top of the fuckin’ list now,” Joel muttered. “Jesus Christ…” 

“It’s not that easy, alright?” You said, actually looking at him now. “I’ve basically been with just one person my whole life…” 

“Oh, wow.” 

“What?” 

“One person?” Joel said, brows raised. “Really?” 

You leveled him with a look.

“Joel.” 

“I am right here.” 

“You know what I mean,” you snapped. “Come on, don’t…” 

“Don’t what?” He asked. “Want a little explanation when you say I never happened?” 

“That’s not what I said!” 

“It’s not?” He said. “Because that’s sure what it sounded like…” 

“Jesus Christ,” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine, OK? I’ve been with two people my whole life since you apparently want to make sure the notches on my bedpost are the right damn number…” 

“So that’s what we were?” He asked, his blood getting hot. “Just a bedpost notch?” 

“Don’t do this,” you said. “I’m not relitigating prom night with you…” 

“Is it relitigating if we never fucking talked about it to begin with?” He asked. “Because I think that’s just litigating it…” 

“Can I get you folks anything else tonight?” The server appeared beside your table, smiling kindly. 

“Just the bill,” you said quickly. “Separate, put the wine on mine, please.” 

He left and Joel waited until he was out of earshot to continue. 

“Why?” He asked. “Why don’t you want to talk about this?” 

“Because it was a decade and a half ago, Joel!” You snapped. “We’re in our 30s now! We were 18 years old then, we were kids, what do you want me to say?” 

“That it wasn’t nothing!” He snapped. “Because Jesus Christ, if you ended our friendship over nothing, I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with that…” 

“No rush on this,” the server smiled and left the check in the middle of the table. 

You pulled your wallet from your bag and Joel got his out of his back pocket and the two of you put cards into the book before the server quickly came back to collect it. You took a deep breath and looked at Joel. 

“I didn’t end our friendship, Joel,” you said. “I did what I needed to do and I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Fine.” 

“Thanks, y’all, for coming out tonight,” the server dropped the cards and the slips back off at the table. “Hope you both have a great rest of your evening and we’ll see you next time.” 

You gave him a tight smile and signed your slip as Joel did the same with his before smacking his pen down with too much force on the table. The two of you got up wordlessly and headed for the truck. 

This wasn’t the road he’d meant to go down. He hadn’t meant to bring it up at all but you’d caught him off guard. The thought that prom night hadn’t been anything to you wasn’t something he’d ever considered. He’d always assumed it had been a big deal because of how you reacted. It had been a big deal for him. It had been a big deal before you took off across the country. After that - after it had made him lose you - it was everything. It was everything he’d ever wanted, it was the stupidest thing he’d ever done. It was proof that what he felt for you wasn’t some childish, one-sided crush and it was evidence that all you’d ever be was a girl he’d loved once. The one thing it had certainly never been was nothing. 

You sat, arms crossed over your stomach, staring out the window in silence as Joel drove you home, a knot of fear settling in his gut. What if this was it again? What if you just left again? He’d just gotten you back, life felt more whole than it had in years, what if you just moved on? 

He pulled into your driveway and put the truck in park before he sighed, looking over at you. 

“Want to come in?” You asked quietly. “I got a bottle of tequila that looks fancy as fuck as a gift. We can get hammered.” 

The knot in his stomach eased ever so slightly. 

“Yeah, alright.” 

He followed you inside and you got the bottle from the kitchen, pressing it into Joel’s hand. He went to sit on your couch but you walked past it and he frowned. 

“Don’t feel like sitting there in this stupid dress,” you said, lifting one stiletto clad foot and taking it by the heel, pulling it off. “I’ll be back in a minute…” 

“Can I come?” Joel asked before he thought better of it. He didn’t like the idea of you being more than just a few feet away in that moment. Like if you were somehow out of his sight, you’d vanish and it’d be a decade before he had a chance to have you back in his life again. 

You just looked at him for a moment before you shrugged. 

“If you really want,” you did the same thing with the other shoe and Joel trailed behind you to your bedroom. 

“Just stay out there,” you called from inside your closet. 

“What, don’t want me checkin’ you out?” He said in a teasing voice even though that thought made his stomach clench. 

“Joel,” you sounded exasperated. 

“Sorry.” 

He’d been over to your house plenty but had never been in your room before. It looked like you, though. So like what your room had been like in high school, just more refined. Like you’d grown into your taste in the past few years. The stack of books on your nightstand was orderly instead of total chaos and there was a charging stand there instead of a tangle of chords. Instead of movie posters held up with tape and thumb tacks, there were framed vintage-style prints lining the walls. Your dresser was less cluttered and more curated with little things that clearly mattered to you: a ticket stub and book mark in a matted frame, a wedding picture, a little glazed clay vase that looked handmade.

He went to your dresser slowly, as though what was there might bite him if he moved to suddenly. The wedding picture practically stared him down, the glare of it harsh, like a too bright spotlight being pointed directly at his eyes. 

He picked up the frame delicately, the frame enameled silver. You were beautiful, in a gauzy white dress that hugged your body and a veil in your hair, a hand on Brad’s chest as you looked into his eyes. He was beaming, looking like someone who’d just gotten exactly what he wanted. But your smile was more subdued. Joel wasn’t sure if it was just peaceful or if you weren’t as happy as he’d always thought women were when they got married. 

But the longer he looked at the picture, the less the woman in it looked like you. The dress didn’t look like something you’d really pick. Your nails were done in a way he’d never seen you wear them. Your makeup, too, looked off. Like someone had dressed you up as a character, as though you’d been cast in the role as bride and showed up to play your part and nothing more. 

“I should probably get rid of that,” you said, making Joel jump. Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest. You were in leggings and a burnt orange Longhorns sweatshirt now that was several sizes too big for you, sleeves pushed almost to your elbows and sliding down. “Just can’t bring myself to.” 

Joel nodded slowly, setting it down. 

“Looked beautiful,” he said. You scoffed. “What? You did.” 

“Thanks,” you said, going and pulling back the blanket on your bed. Joel paused before he went around to the other side of it, tequila bottle still dangling from one hand. He stood there for a moment, half reaching for the bedspread, half watching you for permission. You stretched over and pulled the blanket back. “Shoes off, don’t be gross.” 

“I’m not a fuckin’ animal,” he rolled his eyes before he sat on the edge of the bed, kicking his shoes off without bothering to untie them and climbing in beside you. He leaned against the headboard and you did, too, a good two feet between your bodies in the king sized bed. “That why you keep it?” 

You frowned. 

“Keep what?” 

“The picture,” he nodded to it. “Because you looked pretty?” 

You laughed a little. 

“No,” you said. “Not that. Just… feels very final, getting rid of the last wedding picture. Once that’s gone, it’s like it never happened at all. There’s nothing tangible left of the last ten years of my life, it’s all just smoke.” 

Joel nodded slowly and opened the tequila bottle before passing it to you. You took it, your fingers brushing his, and took a drink, face scrunched in a wince when you handed the bottle back. He laughed. 

“That good, huh?” 

“No, it’s good,” you coughed a little. “I just should have also grabbed… I don’t fucking know, lime and salt or something.” 

He took a drink himself, appreciating the small sting as it went down. It was smooth, definitely better than anything he’d buy himself, but he needed at least a little burn in that moment. 

“You’re just a baby,” he said, looking at the bottle. “Don’t need a damn thing with this stuff…” 

“Alright, macho man,” you snatched the bottle from him and he laughed before you tipped it back for longer than you had before. He watched you swallow twice before lowering it with a cough. “There,” you managed eventually. “Who’s the baby now?” 

“Still you,” he clapped you on the shoulder and you fixed him with a glare but handed him the bottle, anyway. 

“Gee thanks.” 

“Anytime.” 

He took another sip and looked around your room a bit more, gaze pausing on one of the vintage style posters. He frowned for a second, trying to place why it felt familiar when he was too far away to read the movie title before he laughed. 

“What?” 

“Is that some fancy style Curtis and Viper poster?” He looked at you and you smiled. He passed you the bottle. “Where’d you even find that shit? There’s no way they made something that classy for fuckin’ Curtis and Viper…” 

“Etsy is a beautiful thing,” you said. “I can show you if you want.” 

“So you’re gonna stick around long enough to show me, then?” He asked, regretting it almost as soon as it was out of his mouth, especially once the small hurt was there on your face. “Shit… I…” 

“I wasn’t planning to take off across the country anytime too soon, Joel,” you said cooly. 

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… Just… It scares me. I like having you here. You belong here. Don’t want to lose you again, I just got you back.” 

“I don’t want to lose you again either,” you said quietly, looking down at the tequila bottle instead of at Joel. 

“I’m not the one who left, Goldie.” 

You were silent but you nodded. 

“You never even told me why,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know what happened… still don’t…” 

“I don’t really feel like digging up ancient history,” you said, your thumb tracing over the curve of the bottle before looking up at him. “I mean, is that really what you want to do? You really want to go through all of that?” 

He sighed. 

“I don’t fuckin’ know.” 

“I know what I want,” you said. 

He could feel your eyes on him. He met them.

“What?” 

“I want you in my life,” you said quietly. “I don’t want to go back to missing you all the time. I want my best friend back.” 

He sighed. 

“I want that, too.” 

You smiled a little and scooted closer, leaning over until your head was on his shoulder. He could smell your shampoo, the slightly floral tang of your perfume, the scent of your skin nestled below it all. 

“How about we never fight again,” you said. 

Joel could hear the smile in your voice. He laughed once. 

“Sure thing, Goldie,” he said. “We’ll never fight again.” 

“Good,” you said and he felt your cheek move as your smile grew. You held the tequila out to him. “You’re slacking off, by the way.” 

“Well shit,” he said. “Lemme catch up.” 

The two of you drank more than you should have, devolving into slurred speech and shrieking laughs before you passed out, tucked against Joel. He turned out the light and adjusted delicately until he was lying down and your head was on his chest, curled up against his side. His arm curved around your shoulders until his fingers traced over your jaw, your cheek, your hairline. 

“You’re warm,” you mumbled against him. “Best pillow…” 

He smiled and nuzzled into your hair, his lips brushing your forehead. 

“Sure am,” he whispered. 

“Glad you’re here,” you slurred, words closer to mush than anything else. “Missed you.” 

He took a deep breath and tried not to get too attached to the way your body felt on his. 

“Glad I’m here too, Goldie. Missed you, too.” 

Providence, Rhode Island

Early August, 2008 

Joel had never been on a college campus like this. 

Of course, he’d only ever been on one and UT barely counted, the campus was just part of Austin. He had no idea where to start looking for you at some place like this. 

Some asshole dude with too much gel in his hair gave Joel a look as he tossed his duffle bag on one arm and left the bus stop. His mouth got dry. He didn’t belong here, that much was fucking obvious, and everyone could fucking tell. 

He just walked for a few minutes, working his way deeper into the ivy-covered cluster of buildings. There weren’t many people around but he supposed that made sense, fall semester hadn’t started yet. He’d finally managed to get Anna to tell him where the fuck you’d gone and why. Some summer program, an invitation-only intensive for creative writing students.

“It was so weird,” Anna said when he finally convinced her to get a cup of coffee with him. “She got the invitation in like… April and talked about it with Mom and she decided she didn’t want to go. It started before school was out here - I guess college semesters are shorter or something - and she didn’t want to miss prom and graduation. And then a few days after prom she came home from school, locked herself in her room for a bit and then told mom she was leaving Friday for the program. She already had it all worked out, it was nuts…” 

You’d never mentioned it to him. Not the invitation, not deciding not to go, not changing your mind, none of it. It didn’t make any fucking sense to him. Why wouldn’t you have told him? Why would you have just left? Especially after prom… 

He finally stumbled upon someone who didn’t look like a rich asshole who pointed him in the direction of the English department, but she cautioned him after he thanked her and turned to leave. 

“There’s basically no one there at this hour,” she warned. “You might run into Professor Newton - he runs the writing program - but they usually have all left for dinner. My boyfriend’s in the program, they like to give them plenty of writing time in the evenings…” 

“Right,” Joel nodded. He hadn’t come up with a plan of anywhere to stay tonight if he couldn’t find you but he had enough money that he could get a cheap motel room for a night or two. He’d figure it out. “Thanks.” 

He jogged to where the girl had pointed him and found the sign for the English department building, some rich asshole’s name on it, and took the steps to the front door two at a time, catching it just as someone else left for the day. 

The building was quiet, just like the girl had warned him it would be and he worked his way through the labyrinth of lecture halls until he found the faculty office list. Dr. Gale Newton, professor of creative writing, third floor, office 315. 

He ran up the stairs and took a second to catch his breath before opening the doors to the hall. 

Immediately, he was met by the sound of your laugh. It hit him hard, for a moment. It had been months since he’d heard your voice, longer than he’d ever wanted to go but you were here now, so close that he could hear your happiness again. 

He followed it, a siren call, to the end of the hall, office 315. The door was cracked, just enough that he could hear you and just see inside. 

“I’m being serious!” Your laugh was still on your voice but it was quieter now. You were standing in front of the desk, your back to Joel. “You really think it’s good?” 

“Oh Doll,” a man said, coming around the desk. He stepped in front of you and reached out, cupping the back of your neck and tilting your head to bring you into alignment with him. “I think you’ve made tremendous strides since coming here. You’ve learned so much.” 

He kissed you then, pulling you against his front, his other hand going to your lower back as you moaned into his mouth. Your arms went around his neck, your body curving and arching into his touch. The man adjusted you until your legs were against his desk and he pulled back from you. 

“Gale,” you breathed, all desperate and needy. 

“Let’s see what else you’ve learned,” he said, helping you onto the desk. 

Joel felt like he was going to be sick. 

It was as though he was outside of his own body, moving without intending to. He was to the end of the hall, down the stairs and out onto the grass before he really knew what was happening. The air outside felt thick and he was having a hard time getting enough of it. His head spun. You’d taken off across the country, cut him off entirely, and found someone else. Your fucking professor. You hadn’t even talked to him, hadn’t even hesitated…

He doubled over and threw up in the bushes, all the shitty bus station food he’d eaten over the last few hours coming back. You were gone, you were really, actually gone. 

Joel wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist and walked, numb, back to the bus stop. He stood there, staring into space, when the girl he’d spoken to before came up alongside him. 

“Hey,” she smiled up at him. “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

He looked at her and, for half a second, thought about seeing if she would bring him back to her dorm, see if she’d let him make her come until she was screaming his name and he could erase the sound of you moaning another man’s name from his head. 

But she said she had a boyfriend. 

Though he supposed it didn’t really matter. It could be anyone. Just something to get that sound out of his fucking head. 

She frowned, watching him. 

“You OK? Did you find it?” 

“Yeah,” he said eventually. “Yeah, I found it.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: They were so close to actually talking it out but our good friends, youthful indiscretion and denial, are going to have them dodge that conversation a little while longer yet.

But!

They have their plan in place! Sarah's still a gem! Anna's now fully in the mix! Just have to see what happens next!

Thanks so much for being here. I'm so sorry the wait has been so long between chapters. I keep thinking life is going to slow down and then it just doesn't. I appreciate you spending your time with these characters and this story! Your kind comments truly mean the world.

❤️

[sunnebeam]

and all the pieces fall.

A 'DARKEST LITTLE PARADISE' DRABBLE.

pairing: min yoongi x reader

warnings: fluff (the calm kind, not the tooth-rotting kind sadly), revelations, mentions of past car accident, mafia au (but no specific details in this particular drabble), other warnings withheld due to possible spoilers

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: would u look at that, no smut for once HAH anyways a lot of u guys seemed to like the first drabble (read that first if u haven't yet!) so here's an attempt at a continuation <3 please share your thoughts! feedback and reviews always keep me going ^^

— prev: in the darkest little paradise | next: everything just stops

The harbor at night shows the best view of the city.

It's tragic, really, how little you see of the city you live in. You only ever lingered in places near your apartment or near your work, and you no longer remember the area you grew up in as a child.

This unfamiliar side of the city — the side with skyrise buildings, bustling night life, and uptown streets — is wholly new to you.

"Are you cold?"

And amongst other things that are new...

"I'm fine," you answer as you feel his presence behind you. "Just enjoying the view."

A warm jacket is placed on your shoulders and you smile at the action. This is a side of Yoongi that's kind of new to you. You only ever spent time with each other in the bedroom, and there, he's always so dominating, so intense. It's nice to get to know this softer, caring side of Yoongi outside of sex.

Regardless, you pull the jacket tighter around you. You don't really feel cold but he decides to wrap you in his arms anyway, your back to his chest, as you both look out the harbor.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" he asks, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"I loved it," you affirm, soaking in the intimacy he's offering.

Yoongi's always commanding and rough in bed, but you aren't a stranger to his sweet kisses and affectionate touches during aftercare. Still, you always told yourself to keep your distance, to not get too attached, because at the end of the night, he's still a paying client.

Tonight, though, you allow yourself small luxuries.

"Good," he says, relieved, before whispering in your ear, "happy birthday, princess."

You smile, closing your eyes. This is the best birthday you've had in a while. You take a moment to soak in the feeling, but after about a few minutes, you know you can't avoid it any longer.

You need answers.

"Yoongi?"

"Mm?"

You feel his lips on your neck.

"How did you know my birthday?"

He plants a chaste kiss on your neck.

"Does it matter how I know?" he asks.

"It matters to me."

He pauses and contemplates before his lips reach your ear.

"What would you do if I said it was a lucky guess?"

You shiver at his voice, then you open your eyes.

"I would say you're a liar," you eventually say, "and then I'd ask you how you know about my allergy."

You're referring to the incident earlier when Yoongi ordered a dish that was supposed to have certain ingredients in it that you're allergic to, but he was quick to tell the staff to remove them before you could even say anything.

"Then I would say you're too sharp for your own good," he concludes, sighing.

You blink in confusion, before pulling out of his embrace to turn around and look at him properly. He looks back at you with a forlorn expression.

"You really don't remember, princess?"

"Remember what, Yoongi?"

"Think for a minute. Please." His voice starts to become frantic. "Don't you remember anything at all? Anything?"

"Yoongi, I don't—"

"You have to remember." His voice is getting louder, desperation lacing his features. "Try and think back to eight years ago. Try and think back to before the accident."

Accident? How could he have known about that?

Around eight or so years ago, you got into a pretty bad car accident which led you to lose your memories. The doctors hoped it was just temporary but unfortunately, you current memory only dates back to when you woke up at the hospital to see your mother's distraught face. Anything before the accident was a complete blank.

It's a sensitive topic for you so you never really told anyone. No one else of importance needed to know, anyway. The only one who knew was your mother and she's already passed.

So how the fuck does Yoongi know?

"Yoongi, you're not making any sense," you tell him, tears starting to pool in the corners of your eyes. "You're scaring me."

"No, no, don't be scared." He cups your cheeks and plants a small, reassuring kiss on your lips. "I'm sorry. I just... really want you to remember on your own..."

"Remember what?" you ask him for the second time. "What do I need to remember, Yoongi? And how the fuck do you know about my accident?"

Your voice is getting louder, your tears finally falling. You have half the mind to be more quiet but the way he is talking to you (or not talking to you) is getting on your nerves.

He clearly knows something. And since it very clearly involves you, you deserve to know everything.

Yoongi stares at you for what seems like a long time, debating whether or not to finally give you the answers you're seeking.

In the end, he decides to tell you the truth.

"Princess..." he starts slowly, "your accident..."

And all the pieces fall—

"I know about it because," he continues, "I was the reason behind it."

—right into place.

He then tells you all you deserve to know – that you've been in love since you were teenagers, that some rival gang orchestrated your accident eight years ago in an attempt to spite him, that you lost all your memories because of it, and that your mother convinced him to leave you to keep you safe.

It wasn't easy leaving you, but with you losing your memories and with his risky line of work, he eventually backed off, thinking you were better off with a fresh, blank start.

But when he saw you again at the city's red district about a year ago, he couldn't resist his longing anymore. He had to have you again in any way he could have you. Even if it meant you didn't remember. Even if it meant he was a stranger to you.

And even if it meant you didn't love him anymore.

COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[vagabond-umlaut]

Year In Review 2023

Inspired by this post by the lovely Bloomy [@bloompompom] to list my favourites from the stories I've written, 'cause YES. Self-love is one of the best forms of love. And there's no better way to start a new year than by giving that amazing person in our reflection a well-earned pat on the back and a genuine compliment. 😊❤️

⁕ skew lines

This was the 1st full-fledged oneshot I wrote here. And honestly, I'm in love with the way I executed the plot and expressed the many emotions of the characters here. I read this to motivate myself whenever I fall into a writing slump, no jokes.

⁕ paper planes

This was a simple way of expressing just how much I adore the idea of raising the two cutest angels in the world, 'Miki and 'Gumi, along with Satoru... An extremely self-indulgent piece, I admit. Teeheehee.

⁕ BTS: BEHOLD THE SCREEN

I love SMAUs. I love 'Toru x Shortie even more. Need I say anything more? HEHE.

⁕ One Day, Three Autumns

This series haunts me every day and night. I had never shown the courage to deal with complicated emotions and complicated characters before I started this. But now, I feel so happy with myself, I decided to take the plunge and give it my all. It is my best work in my eyes till date.

⁕ six seeds, like rubies...

One of my shortest writings, but one of my most cherished ones for sure. I love the archaic and poetic quality this work carries, besides the fact it heralded the beginning of my feelings for the feared yet so dear King of Curses.

⁕ cauterize; cicatrize

The innumerable ideas and myriad possibilities this story gives rise to in my brain earns it a spot on this list. I cannot wait to write more for this particular version of the King of Curses & his Queen in the new year!

⁕ tv taught me how to feel; now real life has no appeal

I wrote 4.3k in less than a day. Taking only two breaks. Can you imagine? Yeah, no. Nor can I, honestly. But I really did. And this made my self-confidence increase so much for real!!

⁕ JJK Historical AU ✨✨

I like it for what it is today; I'm certain I shall love it for what it will be tomorrow.

And last but definitely not the least— Thank you so so much to all those who have read my stories. And/Or have interacted with them. I cannot express adequately how much I love and appreciate every one of you wonderful people, my loves. Thank you so very much once again. Wishing you all a marvellous New Year 2024 ahead! 😊😊❤️❤️

This cute divider is by @benkeibear.

Mentioning those who I've annoyed so much this year & hope to annoy even more in the future days: @pupkashi, @heresan, @javarium, @avatarofstars, @manjibunny, @nanamikentoseyebags, @saenora, @nkogneatho, @satocidal, @thefallofruins, @roseqzpd, @poe-daydreams, @yuujispinkhair, @seeingivy, @satoruhour, @tender-rosiey, @konigbabe, @dellalyra, @ritsatoru, @4sat0ruu, @strawberrystepmom, @guccirosegold + many others whom I cannot remember right now but please know, I love y'all so much! *MWAH MWAH MWAH* 🥰🥰🥰

[anon-sect]

PART ONE

Chaze had heard a rumor that there was a place that you could buy special clothes and footwear made specifically from human beings who either volunteer to become property of another person or was unfortunate to be forced to do so. He heard that once you bought it, human transformed clothes or footwear was yours to do with as you pleased. It no longer had human rights. It was an object for its owners' use and nothing more. At first, Chaze thought that was a bit cruel until he read the reviews about human transformed clothing and footwear. All the reviews stated that durability is way beyond normal objects. The level of comfort outmatched normal objects. Even though human transformed objects do get dirty, they still last for years longer than normal objects. Seeing this, he had to have some for himself. Even though he knew the objects would be former humans, whether voluntary or involuntary, he wanted to own clothing and footwear that he could keep for years without great damage.

Chaze found the address to the store and went shopping the next day. Once at the store, he saw it was unlike anything he expected. There were computer stations on the main floor with an attendant next to each one to assist each customer. There were no shelves with items. An attendant approaches him. "Are you looking to purchase items from our collection?" The young female attendant asked.

"Actually, yes. How does this work? I have never been in a store like this before." He spoke and asked. "Follow me." She directed over to her station.

"On the screen, you select the material you want. Once selected, you then pick what you want the object to become. And that is pretty much it. Our inventory has both female and male objects to choose from. All are over the age of twenty-five years old and nothing over fifty-five years old." The attendant reported while showing him the screen.

"Another question, which are voluntary and which aren't?" Chaze asked with curiosity. He just wanted to know since he was literally selecting people to become his objects and property.

The attendant presses some areas on the screen. "Those with a green check are ones who willingly want to be an object for another person's purpose. As to why they willingly give their humanity forever, I really don't know. Those with a red X are ones who unfortunately have no choice. Whether it be because of the justice system or they owe a lot of debt and this is the only way their debt collectors get their money. " The attendant paused as she brought up the payment screen. "The pricing depends on your choices. Males cost more while females are half priced. The object pricing also depends on what you want the object to be. Beside each selection is the cost, so you will know how much you are paying for someone's human life to be your personal property. If there aren't any more questions, you may begin shopping." The attendant let him have full access to the screen.

Chaze knew exactly what he wanted. A pair of new socks, new cowboy boots, and underwear that could handle his waist since normal underwear only lasted only three weeks at a time. He scrolled through the listing. He saw a couple of red Xs. One was by a criminal who was in his late forties that was serving a life sentence for murder of ten people over the course of several years. He selected him for a sock. He found the other red X to be a resent arrestee who could not pay his bail. He was arrested for stealing several high-end cars off a car lot. He selected him as a sock. He now had his pair of socks. Both lives cost $75 a piece, plus being socks was $10 apiece. He really didn't feel bad about taking their humanity to use as comfort for his feet. Both were criminals. They would serve society best by comforting his feet for the rest of their lives. He smiled at that thought.

Next, Chaze wanted a pair of boots. He continued to scroll through the list of material to pick from. He saw one with a green check. It was a young guy in his early twenties who wanted a life of no worries or having to make decisions. He quickly selected him. As a boot, he would definitely get that kind of life. His existence would only serve to support his feet. The next green check he found interesting was a woman that had gone into hiding from some crime syndicate. He didn't know why she would select this way of hiding, but no crime syndicate would be looking for a transformed boot. He selected here to create a matching pair. He now had two volunteers and two involuntary transformed objects.

The last object he wanted was a pair of transformed underwear. He continued to scroll till he saw a name that looked familiar. He brought up the picture. It was the face of his old high school bully that tormented his life all of middle school and high school. Apparently, he was in debt to several credit companies. This was their way of getting paid the money they were owed. He selected him to be his underwear. He added one note to his selection. He wanted the face to be at the rear end. He remembered the times that the guy would sit on his face and fart on him. It would be poetic justice for his old bully to literally be his underwear for the rest of his life. Now, he gets to sit on his face as often as he wanted. He couldn't wait for that part.

The one boot cost $100 plus the $20 boot transformation. While the other boot was discounted at $50 plus the $20 boot transformation. His underwear was more pricey with a $200 cost plus the $15 underwear transformation charge. Chaze selected check out to see his grand total. Even though his old bully was expensive, it was worth the cost to torment him the rest of his life. The full total came to $575 plus a $25 tax charge. He swiped his bank card, paying a full total of $600. He felt a little weird that he just paid $600 to forever own former human lives, but they now belong to him as the customer who just shopped for transformed objects.

"Your objects will be ready to pick up in two hours." The attendant responded as she let a new customer know her station was ready for a new shopper. Chaze got up so that someone else could go shopping online. As he walked around, he saw that every station was busy with others waiting to go shopping. The thought that he wasn't the only one buying human lives to use as objects astounded him. He waited at one of the bars while his purchases were being prepared.

Two hours later, he was called up. He came to the counter. The sales clerk behind the counter handed him a bag. Inside was a pair of white cotton socks, a pair of boots, and underwear. The sales clerk handed him his receipt.

Back at his car, Chaze pulled out the underwear from the bag. "Hello Blake. It's Chaze from middle and high school. It's the nerd you tormented for fun. You are my underwear now. My ass gets to torment you." He placed the underwear back in the bag and drove home. He couldn't wait to wear his new underwear. That one article he bought he would wear every for a solid two months straight. He smiled at that thought.