#but its never about that. or rather: when you read the novel you get the feel that jgy is wearing a smiling mask almost

[explorevenus]

doll parts ♡ leon kennedy x f!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 3.6k

description: leon may not take the best care of himself, but he certainly takes care of you. it's his favorite pastime.

tags/warnings: vendetta leon, established relationship, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dollification, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), mirror sex

a/n: this piece was commissioned by my lovely bestie @dollfacefantasy, who knows me so well in that she knew i was foaming at the mouth for an excuse to write dollification w leon >:3 AND it's based off of that one scene in euphoria where nate dresses cassie up LIKE GET OUTTA TOWNNNNN I WAS SO JUICED TO WRITE THIS !!!!!!!!!!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

You were mad. You were so mad, all the time lately, and you were past the point of wondering if you had any right to be. 

It was late, nearly half past midnight, the only sound in the dim house being the unrelenting patter of fat raindrops on the windows. Leon, too, was late, like he so often was. Of course, you weren’t allowed to complain or ask questions about his high paying job, or his whereabouts, or the secrecy, where all those injuries came from or why he didn’t return when he said he would for the hundredth time.

All your life, you thought relationships like this existed only in fiction, the trope of the distant workaholic who dismisses his partner’s concerns with nothing but his wallet and his sexual prowess, piling diamond encrusted bandages upon months worth of neglect, bottled up grievances and novels left unsaid. It was a concept confined to old movies and paperbound romances as far as you were concerned, before you met Leon.

You weren’t unreasonable, and you weren’t dumb. You had gathered that his mysterious government job really was important and strictly confidential, and you trusted that he was telling you as much of the truth as was permitted by the powers that be. You knew he cared about you, you knew he would rather be home with you than running around at the beck and call of the most powerful people in the country. You knew it was never his intention to hurt you.

But your awareness of his love for you didn’t make it any easier to swallow the unending cycle of broken promises, nor the visible deterioration of his mental and physical health while his ‘work trips’ became increasingly frequent until they all started to just blend together. 

You became numb to it after a while. It seemed selfish to demand his time and attention when he couldn’t help his circumstances. Even bringing it up made you feel like a monster, and it was all because you loved him so completely.

And you loved him so completely. You had seen him cry with laughter and sob with grief. You had seen him burn toast, fall asleep with the TV on, forget how to tie a tie, dread a mundane phone call, mumble to himself when he thought no one was listening. You knew his philosophies on life and love and death, you knew him heart and soul, and so too did he know you.

Thus, you just ate it, wore yourself down until you finally accepted that all those bottled up grievances, novels left unsaid and extravagant bribes were worth the privilege of being his lover.

Your eyes felt dry as you stared at the clock, counting in your tired mind exactly how many hours had passed since he was supposed to be home. It had been a long, rough day that would have been draining enough on its own, but the evening proved to disappoint even further. 

Leon heard about the karmic disaster that was your day through a handful of rant texts you’d sent over the course of it, each one more unfortunate than the last. Sympathetic to your senseless string of rotten luck, he promised to cut away from work an hour early to return home to you with your favorite dinner and enough doting on to make your teeth rot. He did not, of course, come home early, and not only that, but he didn’t come home at all, and you couldn’t get ahold of him.

If this wasn’t such a frequent occurrence, you might have been more worried about his safety, or even more angry at him for leaving you hanging on a day like this one, but you had become so familiar with this whole song and dance that your feelings around it were dulled.

You were just about to give up and go to bed when your phone lit up with a notification. Following the several undelivered texts you tried to send asking if he was okay, he’d given a simple response that you knew would redirect the course of your whole entire night.

Headed home in 15. Be in the dollhouse

You had long since garnered that the dollhouse was more for him than it was for you, even if he seemed to believe it was the other way around. It was nice to be pampered and doted on and styled like a Barbie, until it became a way for him to avoid talking to you about anything important. But that was neither here nor there. Dolls don’t talk, and they most certainly don’t complain.

With a deep, measured breath you exited the bedroom and turned down the hall, to what used to be a spare room but was now more aptly describable as a boudoir. The door creaked open to reveal the delicate, feminine space, heavy satin drapes blocking out any potential prying eyes. Between two solid oak wardrobes was an ornate standing mirror, the walk-in closet to the right overflowing with opulent clothing that hardly ever saw the light of day, just the familiar warmth of Leon’s cerulean eyes. 

At the other end of the room was an antique, three-mirror vanity, stocked carefully with luxury makeup, designer perfumes and every last tool one might need to style your hair, down to a box of satin ribbons in every color with which to tie it back. Leon was never one to do things half-way, and dolling you up was no exception.

Piece by piece, you stripped yourself of your clothes, hands moving as slowly and purposefully as his own would, as if by instinct. Just like a doll would be, you undressed to nothing but a pair of delicate lace panties, and you took your place at the vanity, your posture straight and your hands folded neatly in your lap.

All there was left to do now was wait for Leon, to stare at yourself blankly in the mirror and ruminate, to let your thoughts scream and echo around in your head until it would all collapse into silence, putting you in the proper headspace of an empty-headed little Barbie for Leon to play with.

You didn’t so much as flinch at the sound of the garage door opening, or move a muscle at all at the muffled thudding of his footsteps ascending the stairs. Your lips parted with a slow, deep breath, your posture straightening up one final time before the knob turned, and you watched the door open behind you through the reflection in the mirror.

He looked tired. To be candid, he looked like shit. It was evident he had left immediately from whatever dangerous, world-saving thing he was doing to rush home to you, not taking the time to change or freshen up.

Leon approached you gently, reaching over your shoulder to let his rough fingers cup your neck and throat, tilting your head up just enough to make you look at yourself, and to adjust your posture.

“Such a precious little doll, sitting so pretty for daddy,” He whispered, stooping down to plant a kiss at the crown of your head. His hands smelled like iron and gunpowder, and his breath smelled faintly of malted liquor poorly masked with mint. If only you could have confronted him about it. You just swallowed, staring straight ahead where he was directing your gaze.

Reaching over your shoulder, Leon’s steady hand plucked a detangling brush from the vanity, running his fingers through your hair carefully with his other hand. He felt through the length of your soft locks, mindful as always not to tug at any of the little knots he discovered here and there. Shortly after, he was running the brush through your hair with gentle veneration, delicate, even strokes that nearly threatened to put you to sleep.

Leon watched your expression in the mirror as your lashes fluttered, your head lolling back as if mindlessly chasing the attention. A low chuckle fell from his parted lips. “Feels good, huh? I’ll bet it does. Your hair is so messy, baby… You weren’t playing by yourself all day while daddy was gone, were you?”

He was teasing you. A subtle grin begged to tug at your lips, and you let it. Still, you were sure to shake your head ‘no’-- after all, you couldn’t have him thinking you had taken advantage of his extended absence to be naughty, even if you had been awfully tempted to. 

Carding his fingers through your freshly brushed hair, he hummed in mock consideration for a moment, like he couldn’t decide whether or not he believed you. Finally, he turned you around in your chair to face him, tilting your chin up so he could give you a kiss. “I know my baby would never. Always the perfect princess for me, even when I’m not always the perfect daddy.”

That last part came out a little quieter, like he was ashamed to even say it out loud, but somehow still, it was the loudest part to you. You softened.

He noticed, and he, too, softened. The tension in the air dissipated a bit– it was still somewhere around here, likely waiting right outside the door, but it was no longer actively present, at least. Leon gave you another sweet kiss, this one to your forehead, before gently correcting your posture again.

Pushing your hair back with a soft, fluffy headband, he opened up one of the drawers in the vanity and began to take a few things out. First, a light moisturizer, which he massaged into your skin with a jade roller that was cool to the touch and just as relaxing as always. Your moisturizer was followed by a gentle under-eye balm, a thin layer of primer and a hydrating lip oil.

The way he moved was so fluid, so methodical, like a conductor before an orchestra, and you were his masterpiece. In Leon’s eyes, you might as well have been carved out of the finest, most expensive marble, and you were to be treated no less delicately.

He stepped out just for a moment to wash his hands, a clean slate for the next step of the process, your makeup.

You honestly don’t know how he did it. Judging by some of the techniques and products he would use, you could only guess he must have been doing his research online or something, though where he found the time to do so was another question entirely. His lines weren’t always clean, his blending wasn’t always perfectly smooth, yet somehow you always still felt he’d managed to upstage you with the finished product– perhaps it was because he could see you in a way you couldn’t see yourself.

“Daddy?” You chanced a whisper, but he was quick to press a finger to the plush of your lips, ever so gently.

“Shh… Just sit nice and still for me, alright, sugar?”

You nodded, and he resumed his work with a careful touch.

Soft brushes and plush sponges worked their way around the surface of your face, applying shadow and powders and liner, with Leon holding his breath now and then to ensure a steady hand. Your cheeks were rouged, your lips were glossed, your lashes were carefully curled and it was all topped off with a cooling mist of setting spray and a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“There you are, hm? My beautiful baby dolly,” He mused, reaching forward to tilt your head up by your chin, then to the left, then to the right, checking over his handiwork from every angle. Adding a dash of blush to the tip of your nose, he deemed your makeup complete. “Just perfect.”

Slowly, Leon turned your chair around again, allowing you to look at yourself, and yeah. Wow.

You looked gorgeous, you were glowing even. All of your best features were adorned with purposeful swipes of blush, shade and highlight, your eyes dreamy and sweet, your skin smooth and radiant. He let you look at yourself for a moment, just admiring the expression of awe on you– you were always exceptionally stunning, of course, but you looked all the sweeter in these sacred moments in which you recognized your own beauty.

Leon rested one hand on your shoulder to recapture your attention, his other hand coming forward to stroke your cheek. Your long lashes fluttered as you met his eyes in the mirror, a silent signal that your focus had returned to him. Now the hand that caressed your cheekbone was coming forward to take your own. He helped you up from your seat at the vanity and across the room, to the plush chaise lounge in front of that standing mirror.

The room filled with the quiet noises of rummaging, Leon sifting through drawers and racks of hangers stuffed with what had to have been thousands of dollars worth of designer, a stark contrast to his own attire of largely plain black shirts and jeans that had seen better days.

But you were his princess. Leon was just Leon, and Leon couldn’t possibly deserve as much as a princess.

Turning over his shoulder, Leon approached you with a simple pair of white stockings in hand, sinking to his knees right before the chaise lounge to put them on you. Your ankle looked so slight and delicate in his strong hand as he lifted your leg, drawing a line of kisses up the inside of your calf to follow while he rolled the stocking up higher and higher, until the hem reached just above your knee.

He repeated the action with your other leg, the movement of his hands fluid and practiced, but his breaths were becoming shorter, his kisses a little wetter and needier on your skin. Your own breaths were quickly falling in sync with his own just by watching him dial in on your sex, his calloused hands propping your legs up onto his shoulders so he could shuffle closer.

Gripping you by the hips to angle you up to his liking, he buried his nose into the seat of your thin lace panties and breathed you in deep, as though he were starving for oxygen. The tip of his nose nuzzled forward to brush your panties aside, and just as soon as your slit was bared to him, his tongue was darting out to taste it.

He spread it flat in a slow, languid stripe from your weeping hole all the way to your throbbing clit, his lips closing around the little bundle of nerves to coax it from beneath its hood. You sucked in a breath, your manicured nails printing into the lush material of the furniture you were perched on, trying as hard as you could to keep quiet and still, to allow him to guide you, to play with you as he so desired. Luckily, he wasn’t in too stern of a mood this evening anyway– you weren’t likely to be reprimanded for small errors like that, especially not while he was otherwise occupied.

“Fuck,” He growled lowly into your cunt, leaving white prints where he gripped your pillowy thighs just to ground himself. You could feel his body growing warm as he lost himself in you, lapping up every drop of your arousal with greed. For just a moment, his dilated, denim eyes flicked up to look at you, his rosy cheeks gently squished between your quaking thighs as he puffed out, “Just look at you, my dolly… Daddy’s favorite little toy…”

Your eyes screwed shut with pleasure as his hot mouth met your center again, and when they fluttered open, you caught sight of it all in the mirror. It nearly knocked the wind out of you.

Your dainty legs spread out over your gruff boyfriend’s broad shoulders, adorned in delicate white stockings that looked pure and bright against his tight black t-shirt; his sandy blonde hair damp and messy as he wedged himself between your thighs and drank from you like a fountain; your hair and makeup fit for a gala as your expression contorted with rapture… it could have been an oil painting.

Every swipe of his tongue up the length of you, every flutter along your swollen bud, every deep, wanton, needy groan had your eyes rolling back in your head, your thighs trembling and tightening around his jaw. Every inch of you felt featherlight with electricity as he worked his magic on you, more than capable of making you cum in three minutes flat, but opting not to for the fun of it.

Not that you were complaining. At times he could get carried away in his teasing, but tonight was not one of those nights. Leon wasn’t going to waste your time dangling you over the edge much longer than was strictly necessary. As soon as he noticed you were having trouble sitting still, quiet whines and sighs of pleasure occasionally slipping out from between your glossy lips, he knew it would be unfair to string you along any further.

Leon was practically making out with your folds, the room quiet aside from the slick sounds and lustful whimpers that accompanied his dining of you. Soon it was joined with the low, husky timbre of his voice as he groaned into you, “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna make a pretty mess all over daddy’s face?”

In all honesty, you barely registered his words, but all it ever took to get you nodding like a bobblehead was that upward lilt in his tone that indicated he was asking you something. That was all you needed to know that the correct answer was yes.

Smirking briefly to himself as he witnessed your eager and rapt approval, he doubled the intensity of his efforts, his hands wrenching tight into your thighs to pull you flush against his face, but more importantly, to keep you from wriggling away. He didn’t bother to shush you when a shocked yelp bubbled out of you, your body jerking in response to the added stimulation. After all, it was the response he was expecting, and the response he yearned for.

Your shaking hands darted forward to claw at his hair, half-lidded eyes catching your reflection in the mirror once more. Your skin was warm, your breasts heaving as your spine drew into a fine arch and your lips parted to gasp in all the oxygen you could get to your dizzy brain, heels digging into the prominent muscles in his back. He felt every quiver and twitch of your muscles and it only spurred him on. He ate you up like you were his last meal.

Your vision went white as your climax crashed over you hard– the sounds he made were obscene, a satisfied groan vibrating from deep in his chest at the syrupy sweet taste of your arousal. It was an essence he couldn’t possibly get enough of.

As you laid there panting, your legs shaking after the tension in them released, Leon’s eyes dragged up the length of your body with pride. He carefully pulled your panties back into place with a sweet kiss to the bow in the center of them and an affectionate pat to the thigh. 

“There’s a good girl,” He hummed, crawling up from between your legs to kiss you, his mouth still warm and slightly slick with your own spend. “A perfect little doll. All I have to do is pull the right strings to get you to sing for me, huh, princess?”

Once more, you nodded, eyes fluttering shut just for a moment as he kissed your forehead. Then, he stood to his full height again, one hand taking yours and the other steadying you by the dip of your waist as he raised you up to join him, wobbly knees be damned. After all, he wasn’t finished playing dress-up yet. He took a moment to ensure you had regained your balance enough to be able to stand without assistance before opening up one of the wardrobes in search of the remainder of your outfit.

Moments like these only piqued your curiosity in terms of how his brain worked. Sure, you’d been dating for a long time and it was safe to say you knew him quite well, but his penchant for compartmentalization never ceased to astound you. He possessed the sometimes frightening ability to just switch his brain from one mode to the next.

You were brought back to reality once more by the feeling of his lips on your neck. He murmured into your ear, “Arms up, darlin’,” and he barely even finished saying it before you were complying.

You lifted your arms, and he slipped a new dress over your head. There it was, the compensation for being home late, for dropping off the face of the Earth again. The dress was flattering and soft, a delicate blush pink color with embroidered details along the bust and white lace hemming. He drew up the zipper without resistance, and as it reached its apex, the fabric hugged your form perfectly, as though the garment itself was made with you in mind.

Leon kneeled down to straighten out your stockings, and then the skirt of your dress, his eyes scanning over you meticulously in search of any little imperfections that might need fixing. Finding none, he wandered over to where he’d left his jacket, fishing a baby blue box out of the pocket. You had become quite familiar with that blue lately– Tiffany.

Nestled in the slender box was a dainty diamond necklace that now rested right at your collarbones, the clasp in the back secured with a smooch. He carded his fingers through your hair one last time before turning you around to look at yourself in the mirror, his hands rested on your hips, head stooped low to smother the crook of your throat in kisses.

“What do you think?” He whispered in your ear, nibbling gently at the shell.

“Beautiful,” You replied just as quietly, “Thank you, daddy.”

[leatherbookmark]

i swear to god, jgy being bitchy/prickly as a proof that he's finally opened up to someone is possibly my most disliked fandom treatment of him, because with obvious jgy haters at least I know we have exactly nothing to talk about! aaaaand block! but then people who claim to love him just make him into a total opposite of who he was in the novel and it's just like. sigh

[ohcorny]

so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

[orphicrose]

Are you still doing requests? Can I request Alastor x Wife reader who were married together alive an reunited in hell and while Alastor hates modern tech the reader grew on it and even started a life hack channel on voxtube of tricks from the 1920s and it becomes really popular and she gets sponsors and fan mail meanwhile Alastor needs Angel's help just to video chat her and one day she gets a 5 million subscriber mileage congratulations gift box (that all creators get bit hes still mad) from Vox himself

Old man and an Iphone

Requests are still open indeed.

I can definitely do my best! I’ve changed the dates around a little to better fit the technology advancements in the universe. This is set in the early 2000s

This is somewhat small, but i hope you like it.

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

Years passed like turning pages since your husband had departed from you, in the cruelest ways that anyone could imagine. A fate that wasn’t even inevitable. That singular fragile piece of metal, shot from an unknown hunter, took him away from you.

You knew who he was, you knew what he was. Knowing that you’d end up in the same temple of horror one day that he has. His sins being your sins. That brought you some peace. Knowing you’d be reunited one day. Even if it was in the worst place imaginable. Hell. That day came sooner than you’d like to admit. Leaving behind your clueless grandchildren and your own hellish spawn.

The ground below you hit rather hard, not even knowing you were falling down the rabbit hole till the bottom came right to your face. You let off a grunt in response. Your body feeling light, all of a sudden. As if the age and wrinkles had just vanished, and you were young again. Legs feeling like they could run miles, and skin, well. Your new hellish form wasn’t much of an improvement from leather skin.

Knowing for years you’d end up here, it wasn’t too difficult to take in. Accepting your sins and your fate as a part of your journey. It wasn’t so bad. There was society, and structure down here. Immortality being the only true torture.

The other torture, you had no idea where your dearest Alastor had ended up. It had been almost 70 years since you’d seen him, god knows what he looks like now. Your reunion was sudden, after all, he was a well known overlord. Yet, it was still something out of a textbook romance novel.

Over the next decade or two, you two spent every second together. Refusing to be apart again. You sharing stories about your children, grandchildren. Melting Alastor's heart like he never thought you could. There was so much catching up to do. After time, you became infatuated with the media, creating your own channel. it was called "Hellish crafts", which started with a bunch of silly tips and tricks when it comes to house work. Alastor didn't understand, but it came with a hefty income.

After becoming tenants at the misguided daughters of hells hotel, you soon began helping with advertisements. Which grew the channel even more. From random life hacks, to advertisements, to smaller channels asking you for your help to grow theirs.

"Must you film me, dear?" his hand covers his face as the camera fizzes out of focus.

"Yes! Its for Charlie. Lighten up old man" You teased him, filming the hotel lobby. He smiled at your expression, resting a hand on the small of your back as you did your craft.

"Y/n! Y/n! Another letter for you!" Niffty ran over

Alastors hand dropped, snatching the letter from the little goblin.. Eyebrows furrowed. "This is the third letter in the passed three days, sweetheart"

"What can i say, my channel is a hit" One eye was closed as the other was pressed to the run down camera that Alastor insisted you used. Still walking slowly around the hotel, trying to get a good shot. Alastor stood in his place, reading the letter. "Another delusional fan" He mumbled.

"Don't worry! i wont let the fame go to my head" You swung around with the camera, getting him in frame. The static of his aura interfered with the lens and gave your brow a small electric shock. Jolting you backwards.

"I've warned you about that" He chuckled, hand returning to your waist and pulling you closer. His other hand with the letter, raising, and a fit of flames emitted. Turning the letter into ash on the floor, which nifty didn't wait to clean up.

Life was like this for a while, constant letters. Some weird, some genuine. But you never got to read most of them, as Alastor made it his duty to send them to another realm before you could. was he jealous? maybe, he'd never care to admit it though. That was until a rather glamorous piece of paper fell through the letter box on this particular day. Stamped with Vox's logo. You got to this letter first.

"What the fuck?" Your almost angry tone alerted Alastor, whose body materialized next to yours in seconds. "What's the matter, my dear?" his eyes briefly scanned over the letter before snatching it from you.

"What is a 5 million subscriber?"

"Its the amount of people who support my channel, i honestly didn't even know it was that big." you stared up at him, waiting for some sort of outburst on his face.

"That's... " he thought for a second "Wonderful dear! Absolutely wonderful!" his arms wrapped around you in an embrace, spinning you around. When you first started the channel, with his knowledge, it was more of a way to pass the time. So, for it to be as big as it is now was quite the accomplishment. What kind of husband would he be not to support his perfect wife, he thought. Whether she was practically paying vox or not. His quarrels weren't hers.

"I believe you have some type of reward, y/n" He spoke again, putting you down and giving the letter back. His sharp nail pointed at a fine print at the bottom. 'Visit the Vee headquarters to redeem your reward'.

You both looked at each other, brows raised and a concerned look in your eyes. "I'm sure it's not important. I don't need a reward"

He looked as if he was in deep thought. Contemplating everything for a second. "You should go" "But vox is your-"

"Hush, little woman" His finger covered your lips "This is important to you darling. I trust you"

The smile on your face made his bigger, making you deserving of the little peck he placed on your lips before adjusting his posture. "On the condition that my shadow follows your every move"

"Done"

A few hours had passed since your departure, Charlie offering razzle and dazzle to escort you to the large mansion on the other side of the pentagram. It was quite the journey, considering the traffic. And it wasn't long before Alastor began to miss you, wondering if you were okay.

"Ahem" static gave Angel a brief episode of tinnitus before he swung his body on the lobby sofa, met with the lanky deer.

"Waddya want, pimp?" his attention didn't last long, his phone having far more interesting contents than the demon lurking behind him.

"I need a favor" his smile made the question seem a lot more sadistic than intended. His body swiftly moved around the sofa, standing in front of the spider now.

"If you want my soul, I got bad news for ya."

"Your soul?" He was almost confused for a second "No, i need help with this" he lifted his hand, angels phone disappearing and reappearing in the deer's grip.

"Wh- hey! Give that back" Angel leapt to his feet, reaching up and snatching it back. "Why do you want help with a phone? Aren't you like, from the dark ages?"

It took Alastor a moment to be able to admit to it. "I'd like... to call my wife"

"Awww, is someone clingy" angels teasing didn't last long before radio dials appeared in the demons eyes, radio interference filling the air as quickly as it had disappeared earlier. "Okay, okay" Angels hands flew up in surrender, Alastor returning to normal instantly. "Splended!"

It took a moment for Angel to flick through the thousands of contacts he had, before he finally reached you. Pressing the call button and handing the phone to Al. Who held it like an old grampa looking at a meme. "What do i do now?" he squinted his eyes at the device in his hand. "Just hold it" Angels voice became frustrated as he readjusted the phone in Als hand.

You had picked up the call a minute ago now, on your way back to the hotel. Being greeted to the two boys bickering. "Helloooo?" you sung out, attempting to get their attention.

"Oh. Hello my dear!" Alastor noticed to and bared his teeth in an awkward smile. "I just wanted to see how my love was doing, is all"

"How sweet. I will be back soon." You had many questions to ask when you were back with the comfort of your person.

"Do hurry"

[daytaker]

The Gang React to You Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day

And other Valentine's Day miscellanea. I'm going with MC giving store-bought chocolates. I know in some places, it's more common to give homemade chocolates, but I for one do not have any idea how that is done and it's not something that's common where I live, so I'm going to go with what I know, which is very little. Enjoy! (Mostly below the cut.)

The length of these varies. Some are quite short. I just wanted to put out some sort of Valentine's Day themed Thing, even if I'm almost two days late.

Lucifer

"How thoughtful. I don't suppose there's anything deeper I'm meant to read into here?"

He's so smug. Unreasonably so. More than you would expect. Yeah, guys, he got chocolates from MC. But his pride doesn't allow him to flaunt the fact. He has to just hope and pray people actively ask him whether he's gotten anything or where those not-so-discreetly placed chocolates sitting on his desk happened to come from.

Lucifer is very traditional in his treatment of you. When it comes to events like this, he's almost painfully predictable. He'll certainly have roses for you, and depending on your relationship, he might reserve dinner for two at a high end restaurant. And if your relationship is at a certain level, you can expect a trail of rose petals leading to the bed. It's kind of cringeworthy but he means well.

Mammon

"O-oh... Ahem... Is it Valentine's Day? Ha! I thought I was forgettin' somethin'. Heh, uh... thanks, human."

Obviously he didn't forget; he's been stressing over this day for the past week. He needs to get you something, but it can't be anything that's too cheesy or anything that makes him look cheap, so he's probably broken the bank to get you some sort of jewelry that he'll spend the next century paying off, but it's worth it.

When he gets chocolates from you, he plays it off like it's no big deal, but actually, he's so excited to reciprocate that before he has time to think it over, he's acting like he just so happened to have this expensive piece of jewelry on his person so you might as well take it for him. He spends the rest of the day kicking himself because now how in the world are you supposed to know that this was actually a very tactful and expensive gift from the greatest demon in the Devildom?

That, and he'll probably spend the entire day glaring at his brothers and the dateables from the corner as they shower you with gifts and attention.

Leviathan

"Wh...? For me? This isn't a prank, right? Because I'm not gonna forgive you if this box is full of tide pods!"

It's not full of tide pods, so all is well. He's so embarrassed to have doubted you that he tries to just shove his gift into your hands and push you out of his room, but it won't take too much persistence to get him to back down.

His gift is some sort of merch relating to an anime, manga, or game the two of you have particularly enjoyed together. Preferably something cute and evocative of the holiday. He doesn't know. He's never done this before. Why would he? Nobody would ever think to give him anything on Valentine's Day, so why would he bother with gifts? You do remember that nobody likes him, right? He doesn't like them either, so it's fine, but---

Let's just thank him for our gift before he falls too far down the self-hate spiral.

Satan

"I had hoped I might receive something from you today."

Satan is glad to get something from you, no matter what it is, but to be honest, chocolates probably aren't the best choice for him. He'd rather have something a little more heart-felt, that seems like you picked it out with him in mind. Literally anything cat-themed, or a book of some sort (bonus if it's a romance novel).

He's probably gone and done something stupidly romantic like buy you flowers and a book of poetry with certain parts highlighted.

But don't be fooled. Satan's favorite part of Valentine's Day is talking about its gruesome history, from the martyrdom of St. Valentine to a whole host of brutal murders that have taken place on the day. Catch him trying to figure out how to shoehorn the Chicago St. Valentine's Day Massacre into a casual conversation.

Asmodeus

"Oh, for meeee? You're such a sweetheart!"

He adds it to his enormous pile of chocolates, cards, flowers, and love letters. But of course, it's special, because it's from you.

He loves it, but... he's another one who would probably prefer something a little more personalized. Being who he is, he's a very popular demon on Valentine's Day, so seeing you put in a little effort to get him something with a bit of Asmo-flair would thrill him.

Beelzebub

"Chocolates...? This is the best thing I could have asked for. They'll taste even better knowing they're from you."

Well, obviously he loves them. He probably tried to get you chocolates too, but it doesn't matter how much he loves you. Beel's gonna Beel. The box is empty. He's shocked. He was sure he left some.

Belphegor

"...Wait, it's...? ...Thanks, MC. They look really good."

Belphie stares down at the chocolates in his hands, looking tired and mellow, while he internally panics because holy shit, it's already February 14? When did that happen? He doesn't have anything for you. He hates Valentine's Day. Why does it have to exist and lay bare all his inadequacies, like being a procrastinator and forgetting to prepare for things in advance even to the slightest degree?

Diavolo

"Ah, for Valentine's Day! It's a delight to receive this in person!"

Diavolo probably gets plenty of Valentine's Day presents from admirers (and suck-ups) around the Devildom, but most of them come in the mail or are otherwise delivered in an impersonal manner. So when you approach him directly to give him some chocolates, he's reminded why you're everyone's favorite human (himself included).

Also, you'd better clear out your schedule, because Diavolo booked out all of Ristorante Six for a dinner date tonight. Yes, the entire thing. Yes, on Valentine's Day. No, he's not worried about the dozens of disappointed couples who had probably been hoping to eat there.

Barbatos

"Any gift from you is satisfactory in my eyes."

It's kind of embarrassing to give regular old chocolates to someone like Barbatos who's a complete whiz in the kitchen, especially when it comes to sweets. But you figure he'd appreciate the gesture, and you'd be right. Of course, he will turn around and present you with a variety of immaculate, handcrafted artisan chocolates, tailor made to your personal taste. But sure, those store-bought candies you got in the heart-shaped box are completely fine, so stop stressing out about it.

Solomon

"Aw, thank you, my adorable apprentice! I have some homemade chocolates for you! What? Aren't you going to try some?"

Solomon tries to kill you on Valentine's Day...with love, obviously! But seriously, aren't you going to try the chocolates? He put his whole heart into them. And the hearts of several unique Devildom species. They're not toxic, stop worrying.

Simeon

"The fact that you thought of me means more than you realize."

And he means it. The fact that you thought about him, and when thinking about him, made the active decision to buy him something for Valentine's Day makes him stupidly happy.

Simeon strikes me as a flowers kind of guy. He got you flowers. Maybe some homemade treats too, but definitely flowers.

Luke

"Thanks! I got you something too. Happy Valentine's Day!"

Luke made cookies. They're delicious. Befriending this kid is the smartest thing you ever did.

[sarahsartistportfolio]

SAGAU: A Rumor Spreads

Forewarns: Female reader, real self indulgent shit, not cult au or imposter au, reader is a virgin, reader is soft and feminine, ok honestly this is straight up virginity kink I'm going call it what it is lol, Kazuha having a bittt of a corruption kink, Wanderer's section turned out really romantic? lol, this bit isn't 18+ but future chapters might be, Cyno on his knees for us👀, Xiao yearning hard,

AO3

Kazuha - Cyno - Xiao - Heizou - Zhongli - Childe - Wanderer - Maybeeee Lyney and Albedo

“Ei I’m thinking of planning a girls only getaway at an Inazuma hot springs? Would you and Yae Miko like to help me out?” 

The two are immediately beaming and receptive to the idea. Any chance for you to spend more time in Inazuma is quickly snatched up. As you sit with the two lovely ladies, planning out who to invite, where to host the outing, you explain to them that you’d rather keep this event private. If word got around(especially to the other nations) that you were holding an exclusive get together in Inazuma(at an hot springs no less) you’re afraid some nosy guests might try to peep in on the conversation. The two swear to you they’ll keep their lips shut but as your invites go out rumors just tend to spread. Now every woman in the nation of eternity would love to attend this private get away, just to get an opportunity to speak to you their goddess one on one. And of course there are those with a little more devious intentions of seeing their beloved goddess in such an exposed state. 

Oh and of course once the word gets around to the boys, the absolute disappointment on their faces plus the swirling curiosity. A trip with just the girls? What will you speak about that you don't want any male ears to hear? Is it about them? Are you going to speak about them in private?

(Heizou not so subtly asking Sara what was said on this trip. Thoma sneakily listens in to conversations any of the women have on the estate that even mention your name. Itto loudly and desperately begging Shinobu to tell him where you are holding this outing so he can just, you know, not subtly spy on your conversations.) 

Despite the rumors still floating around, you follow through with this little getaway plan. With extra reassurance from Yae Miko that if she catches any peeping toms she'll be sure to zap them. 

And despite some of the girls being more nervous to be so up close and personal with you, others are just jumping at the chance to see you so laid back and vulnerable. And the steam from the hot springs just seems to melt away your walls, as the night goes on you find the conversation drifting to…romance. You tell Yae Miko how you love to write sappy cheesy romance novels and she’s more than happy to give some of your rough drafts a read. You playfully start to run your hands through Kirara’s damp hair just to hear her purr and now suddenly Yoimiya is asking “Me next! Me next!”

It isn't until you sheepishly say “Ah well despite writing about romance a lot I’ve never actually been in love or slept with anybody.” that an audible pause washes over the group. The deer scare making a loud echoing “clink”.

Now they all begin to coo and question you. 

“There’s no way no one hasn’t fallen head over heels for your Grace yet?! You must be like thousands of years old, surely you’ve stolen someone’s heart” Yomiya loudly proclaims.

“Aww so you’re saving yourself for your one true love, how cute.” Yae Miko insinuated.

“When you say it out loud its embarrassing-”

“Has anyone caught your eye yet your Grace?” Sara asks a bit too calmly as she and Ei eye you down with anticipation. 

The girls continue to grill you with nosy questions “What’s your ideal type?” “Do you prefer men or women more?” 

And you answer them with giddiness, happy to spill your life long dreams of getting married and having a family of your own one day.

“Ah, so you desire to get married and become a mother?...” Yae Miko vocalized aloud, wondering what this would mean for the whole of Tayvet. 

“I know it's a silly little dream of mine…”

“It's not silly at all, your Grace!” Yomiya cheerfully chimes in. “If you have your heart set on someone let me know and maybe I can set up a huge fireworks display that spells out I love you.” She giggles and Kirara nods in agreement.

Thanks but I don't really want anyone to play matchmaker…

The rest of the night goes on with laughter and drinks. The women feeling blessed to see this vulnerable side of you. You assume the conversations you had with the ladies will remain private but…it seems like someone has loose lips.

Soon days after the trip, rumors start to pop up.

“Ah didn't you hear our dear goddess is still a virgin, as pure as a lily kissing the sun’s rays for the first time.” “I aspire to have the same chastity as her.” “I heard she’s specifically looking for a husband because she wants to have kids.” “Surely if she chooses a man from our nation that means she’ll permanently reside here right?”

When you meet up with Venti again he’s a little more gleeful than usual. And when you part to say goodbye he leans in, eyes close but you abruptly stop him with a hand covering his mouth.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanted to kiss you before anyone else does.” He says with disappointed eyes, voice still muffled by your hand. When you allow him to speak more it's then that you know. Somebody in at that hot springs squealed. 

And there’s no stopping these nosy rumors once they start going. What happens when they reach the ear of...?

[cloudyyoimiya]

hi! Can you do a part two of measuring hands with bsd boys? including ranpo, fyodor, Nikolai, and sigma?

oh my word yall i’m so glad you enjoy these little scenarios! anyways yes ofc i can write these! i already did nikolai and sigma, so i’ll just write fyodor, ranpo, and jouno :)

Measuring Their Hands; Ranpo Edogawa, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, and Saigiku Jouno

Format: Scenarios

Quick Note: Heres a link to part one and part two

Ranpo Edogawa

It was roughly six in the morning, the world still shrouded in darkness with the occasional few lights from stores turning on, getting ready for business in the morning. As of now you and your boyfriend were currently cuddling in your shared bed, holding hands comfortably as the two of you woke up. Ranpo’s head was lightly resting on your shoulder, clearly comfortable.

You could feel him squeezing your hand softly, and that made you shift your gaze down to your interlaced hands.

“Ranpo?” You asked, still slightly sleepy.

“Huh?”

“Can you flatten your palm real quick? I wanna see something,” you said as you flattened your own palm against his hand.

“Why? What do you wanna do?” He asked, his voice still slightly groggy from waking up.

“Ranpo, you already know. You’re smart.”

He sleepily chuckled at the praise. “That I am! I just wanted you to say it so I can confirm my suspicions, but I guess I don’t have to do that. I’ll be merciful just this once!”

After he was done talking, he flattened his hand against yours. When you glanced down to get a good look, you could tell that his hands were only the slightest bit bigger than yours—maybe by only an inch. They were also rather soft considering that he doesn’t use firearms all that often. His nails also were well taken care of surprisingly. You never really saw him take care of them before, so this was new to you.

“Your hands are bigger than mine,” you said with a small smile. “That’s shocking. I thought that your hands would be smaller than mine, not the other way around.”

“I’m surprised that you didn’t know that sooner,” Ranpo spoke as he looked down at your joined hands. “I’ve known that for quite a while.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Well the first time I saw you I took in every detail I could! You were so attractive… How couldn’t I?” He grumbled into your shoulder.

You giggled. “I see. I’m glad you found me attractive.”

“Mhm…”

Ranpo quickly interlaced your fingers once more and pulled your arm over his side so you could cuddle him. He then let go of your hand then wrapped his own arm around you, making sure not to hold you too tight or too loose.

“Let’s go back to sleep. It’s too early,” Ranpo whined.

You sighed. “Love, it’s six in the morning. We have to get ready for work soon.”

“Ten more minutes…”

“How about two?”

“Five.”

“Alright, fine. Five more minutes,” you said as you kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

You were currently sitting on the couch, listening to your boyfriend play the cello while reading a light novel. Fyodor was playing a piece called “Bird of Death,” and it was rather relaxing. Occasionally you’d glance up from your reading and watch how Fyodor would carefully yet so gracefully glide the bow across the strings, creating a beautiful melody.

After a while, Fyodor had stopped playing the cello. He then looked up at you, giving you a knowing look. He could see you staring at his hands, so that raised the question…

“Why are you looking at my hands?” Fyodor asked with a small smirk.

“Oh! It’s nothing really,” you said as you closed your book. “I just wanted to see whose is bigger.”

He let out a small hum. “Then come over here so we can measure them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, myshka.”

“Alright then,” you said as you stood up from your seat. You then walked over towards where he was sitting. “Give me your hand.”

He let out a soft a soft chuckle, then gave you his hand after putting his bow away in its case. “Here you go.���

You took his hand, then flattened it against your own. His hand was considerably bigger than yours, and his fingers were also quite skinny. His hand was surprisingly soft excluding the areas where he had small callouses from holding his bow. You then shifted your gaze to his nails. They were very short and uneven, most likely from him biting on them when he was scheming something. You could also see a few blue veins on the back of his hand.

“Your hands are bigger,” you simply stated. “I’m not surprised.”

Fyodor continued to smirk up at you. “Why so?”

“Because you easily play the cello. Don’t you need long fingers for that?”

He bummed. “I suppose you do, though, I do find your small hands cute.”

“They aren’t small! Your hands are just abnormally larger than mine.”

“Sure they are, my dear,” he spoke with a slight chuckle escaping his lips afterwards. “My hands are average. Yours are just small.”

“They are not.”

“Alright, alright. Keep telling yourself that, my love.”

Fyodor then curled his fingers under yours and brought your hand closer to his mouth. He then gave your knuckles a slight kiss and looked up at you while doing so. It seemed like his main goal was to fluster you into agreement, and it was slowly starting to work. He know exactly what he was doing.

“I know what you’re doing,” you said with a small smile creeping onto your face. “It’s not gonna work.”

“Oh? How can you be so sure? My love, you’re already cracking a smile. I think whatever I’m doing is working.”

“You’re terrible.”

“But yet you love me.”

You sighed. “You’re right, as always.”

“Of course I am,” he spoke as he kissed your knuckles once more. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Saigiku Jouno

Currently you were in your shared home with your boyfriend. He had just got home from fulfilling his duties as a Hunting Dog, and you were finishing up cleaning the house for him. It was starting to get rather dusty, and you knew that it would throw off your boyfriends senses, so you decided to clean up around the house because you wanted to stop something that was easily preventable.

Jouno sat down on the couch, then let out a rather loud sigh. You could tell today was a long one for him, so you decided to stop what you were doing and sat down next to him.

“Something wrong?” You asked as you took one of his hands into yours. You then took off his glove and put it on your lap.

“Tecchou was being more of a nuisance than usual today,” he groaned. “He’s insufferable.”

“From the stories you tell me, I bet he is,” you said with a small chuckle. You then paused for a moment. “Hey, can I do something with your hand real quick?”

Jouno’s eyebrow quirked up for a moment. “What are you thinking of doing?”

“I just wanna see if your hand is bigger than mine is all,” you spoke softly. “I have no ulterior motives, don’t worry.”

He took a moment to listen to your heart rate, then nodded to himself. “Alright. Go on then.”

“Thank you,” you said as you carefully flattened your hand against his. You made sure to go slow in order to not startle him.

Once your hands were both flattened against each others, you looked at them for a moment. They were calloused from his constant use of his saber, but yet there were tiny spots where they were also soft. His hands were also a little bit bigger than yours—maybe by one or two inches. Jouno’s fingernails were also slightly unkept, but they remained short all the same.

“Your hands are bigger than mine,” you simply spoke.

“I can feel that,” Jouno said with a small smirk crawling onto his face.

“I shouldn’t have let you find out about this.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Jouno asked sarcastically.

“Because now you’ll tease me over it,” you said as you huffed. “You always do that when you find out something that I can be teased over.”

“That I do, my dear,” he said as he chuckled. “Though, who’s to say I’ll tease you about something as small as this? I could always find something else.”

“Like what?” You questioned.

“Hm, let me think for a moment,” he said as he put his free hand on his chin, acting as if he was deep in thought. “Well, your heart rate does accelerate when I tell you how much I find your reactions cute.”

“Huh? Does it really?”

“It does. And it’s rather loud if I may add.” He smiled. “You know how much I dislike loud noises, my love. Maybe you should apologize for that, hm?”

“Saigiku! Quit it!”

Jouno sighed. “Alright fine. You’re no fun.”

“Yeah, sure I am.”

Jouno then intertwined the both of your hands and brought them to his mouth. He then gave your knuckles a small kiss.

“My dear, you make teasing you too easy. I love you for that, you know.”

[ddejavvu]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMjPBa9qJ/

Ok but this with Anakin!! It would totally work on him! I love that you’re writing for Anakin now you do it so well 🫶🫶

thank you!! you're so sweet <3 i think if i'm good at it it's because i've been in love with him since middle school maybe

--

You strike while his brain is foggy with sleep, perhaps cruel on your part to combine two sedatives. The natural one, the chemicals his brain slowly releases as the night winds down to lull him into a dozy state, and the pointed tips of your nails, paid for by the very man you inflict them upon.

You reach out and scratch at the base of Anakin's spine, sending a shiver up its length. He's turned away from you only because you're doing some late night reading, and the glow of your screen is too invasive for him to sleep through. He groans at the feeling of your fingernails raking up his spine as you slowly drag them up his back, scratching at the fabric of his heather gray t-shirt.

"Don't stop," He pleads, half-asleep and unfiltered. You indulge him, tracing sprawling spirals over the expanse of his broad, toned back. He seems to melt into the mattress below him, and when you're sure he's barely containing himself from becoming a puddle of goop, you whisper, "Ani?"

"Hm?" He replies, and his voice is just the perfect amount of sappy-mushy-sleepy-gushy; you know you'll get what you want.

"Will you make pancakes tomorrow?" You hum, "The really fancy ones, with the fruit-flavored batter?"

"Sure," He hums casually, like you'd merely asked him to blink. On the contrary, Anakin's rather complicated recipe for flavored pancakes, for special occasions only due to its strenuous nature, is something he normally grouches about.

"Thanks, baby." You scratch up towards the base of his neck with your nails, lingering for only a minute more before you let your hand slink back to the screen that's displaying your novel. You think you've won, you think he's drifted off to sleep without fully realizing the gravity of the situation, but all of a sudden he turns over to face you, eyes both squinted and drooping at the same time, a sight you never thought was possible, much less this endearing.

"Did you mind trick me?" He asks, his glare scrutinizing.

You try to fight off your triumphant grin, "What? What are you talking about?"

"You tricked me," He huffs incredulously, and you feign innocence.

"You're the Jedi, Ani." You try turning back to your book, but he's not having it.

"You did that thing with your nails," He reaches an arm out from under the blankets to snatch up your hand, pulling it to his face to inspect it. His eyes narrow as he stares at your fingertips, examining your nails, "Do these things give you a connection to the Force, or something? How'd you do that?"

You snap your nails at him, scratching playfully at his fingers and retracting your hand when he yelps, "Don't be ridiculous, Anakin."

"You conned me!" He insists, his grin bright now that some of his sleepiness has worn off, "This is ridiculous, you owe me at least twenty more minutes of back scratches if I'm making you pancakes in the morning."

Your initial instinct is to fight it, even though you'd love nothing more than to scratch your nails along his muscled back for hours on end. But you catch yourself, thinking about the pair of boots you'd seen while window shopping earlier, their price a bit too high for you to justify an impulse purchase.

"Alright, Ani." You agree, and you see his brow twitch at the eagerness in your tone, "Roll over, I'll scratch your back until you fall asleep."

"Okay..." He turns like you instruct him to, but he cranes his head to peer over his shoulder at you as you start up your nails against his back once more. His eyes are narrowed, and his hair is messy enough that it nearly covers one of them. He watches you, and you keep your eyes pointedly on your screen, avoiding his scrutiny. Finally he turns, and you wait until he's minutes away from sleep to strike.

"Ani?" You croon, nails dancing along his left side, "Will you buy me new boots?"

"Mhm," He hums groggily, nodding easily into his pillow, "Anything you want, angel."

[keyotos]

book lover

summary ⎯ you rant about your book to alhaitham. he takes the time to admire you during your tangents.

tags ⎯ fluff. idk its just really cute. soft alhaitham idk what to tell you. you and alhaitham are two little book nerds that read physical books together and rant abt them. u2 are giving old happily married couple tbh.

tana's words ⎯ idk mane im in love. but BLADE trailer came out today so idk..... feeling a little bit i'm abt to commit an infidelity

you looked very conflicted as your eyes scanned the words of the book you were currently reading. to any other person, you looked rather focused. your face was pensive and your eyes were fixated on the novel you were reading.

but to alhaitham (who thinks and hopes he's the one that knows you the most), he realizes you're disconcerted by the novel you're reading. it's the way you're slightly pouting (almost frowning) your lips as you continue reading, like you're dissatisfied. your eyes aren't focused, but instead they were crinkled with confusion. what you're actually focused on is how much more ludicrous this book could get.

alhaitham picks his book back up again and continues his book, "murder on the orient express," by margaret atwood. something you recommended to him. alhaitham started it right after he finished the book he was reading previously, forgetting about the other books on his shelf.

alhaitham was nearly halfway into the novel when he turned his head to check on you again. this time, there was no doubt you looked pained. your eyes were narrowed with incredulity as you read the rest of the passage. you were biting your lip and your grip on the book was tight. you wanted to say something, alhaitham figured out.

so alhaitham puts down his book on the nightstand and stretches. he wraps his hands around your waist and moves closer to you, his head now resting on your shoulder. he reads a few passages here and there. and the way you slow down as you read does not elude him: he knows you're just waiting for him to finish his passage.

you two stay like this for a while. alhaitham's hands are wrapped around your body as his head lays comfortably on your shoulder. he presses a few kisses to your neck here and there, never failing to make you heat up. he's pulled you closer into him by now; you're on the verge of sitting on his lap in the bed. but even during this relaxing moment, you couldn't help but feel stress. it's probably because of this god-awful book you're reading.

you let out a loud sigh, slamming your book shut and not even bothering to bookmark it (you're a dog-earer; alhaitham thinks you're despicable for it). you lay it down on your nightstand before you take the time to melt into alhaitham's touch. once you've put your book down, you take a deep breath, and alhaitham swears he feels life return back into you.

alhaitham presses a quick kiss to your jaw, "are you okay?"

you faintly smile at him, "fine." and alhaitham knows what will come next. alhaitham studies you; he tries to dissect your every word and expression; and most of all, he always wants to find out more about you, despite having being with you for a long time already.

your smile disperses, now followed by a scowl, "i lied. i'm not fine," you rubbed your eyes with your hands as alhaitham listened to you, "can your brain hurt after reading something so terrible? my brain feels like it aged fifty years and i'm not even finished with this god-awful book. nothing in here makes sense, the plot is rudimentary at most, and the characters are making me want to rip my hair out," you ranted, your hands going to massage your temples because of how angry you were getting.

"and it's not just that too," you continued. alhaitham's eyes were on you; listening to every word, watching your eyes, and your lips. he wanted to kiss you into peace, but he also loved hearing your tirades. the way your voice became so passionate and wild made him feel things that he thought he wouldn't have felt before.

"the plot barely makes any sense. like, you're telling me grown people act like this? these people are two decades older than us, haitham," he feels himself melt at the sound of his name, nodding along to your tangent so you know he's listening, "but they act like teenagers! like... don't you have jobs? lives?" you pick up the covers that enshroud your body and proceed to let out the loudest groan into them.

you pulled down the covers, letting out a deep sigh. "sorry, i had to get that out," you turned to look at alhaitham, only to see him staring right back at you.

"i guess you're not recommending that one," alhaitham joked, removing his hands from your waist and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pressing you against him. he presses a kiss to your temple as he feels you breath slowly.

"definitely not," you shook your head, now leaning onto alhaitham's shoulder, "the thing was, my friend recommended that to me. so, i don't know if they hate me or not, because there's no way they'd genuinely think this book was good."

alhaitham hummed, "maybe they were trying to gauge your reaction," alhaitham's hand slipped under your shirt and started tracing shapes on your bare collarbone, "like you did to me that one time," alhaitham adds, tone lifting with mock-exasperation.

you laugh, and alhaitham thinks the sound is absolutely heavenly. sometimes, especially during long nights in the akademiya, he dreams of your laughter and your smile. the sound is so melodic that any other laugh became incomparable and unrivaled by yours.

"okay, that was pretty funny though," you poked his cheek, grinning, "i almost spit out my drink when you got to that one sex scene. i thought you'd never take any recommendations from me ever again," you joyfully reminisced, letting yourself sink into alhaitham's warmth.

"'how fast you go. you arrive at a conclusion much sooner than i would permit myself to do,'” alhaitham quotes. his hands travel farther down your shirt as he allows himself to kiss your neck.

you ignore his actions, turning to him suddenly, "you're reading murder on orient express?" your eyes widen.

alhaitham's expression remains neutral, still kissing your body, "of course. i read everything you recommend me." he didn't expect you to be so shocked. he regards your opinion with high value.

your eyes still remain wide, not moving away from his face as alhaitham mindlessly rubs his hands up and down your torso, "even the bad ones?"

alhaitham chuckles, "even the bad ones. but, if it makes you feel better, you haven't recommended me any terrible books yet. at least, not as terrible as the one you're reading currently."

you sigh, looking at the disgraced book on the nightstand, "yeah... i don't think books can get worse than that one," you turn back to run your hand through alhaitham's hair, sorting out a few strands here and there. alhaitham quietly hums as you do so, sounding pleasantly satisfied.

"why are you reading murder on the orient express so soon? thought you had that other book to read about," you quietly asked.

"because i love you. and i want to experience what you experienced," alhaitham says it like it's the easiest thing in the world. i love you. i want to experience things with you. it makes your heart flutter infinitely through the stars. you've read countless romance novels through your years, yet no author would be able to word love as well as alhaitham did.

you smile wide, and alhaitham thinks if he was a dying man, seeing your smile would allow him to survive for decades. too flustered to say anything, you tuck yourself into the nape of his neck, hiding from his prying eyes.

you know alhaitham. you are aware that he knows you just as well as you know him. you know that, with one glance, alhaitham is probably able to determine every single thought you're thinking. with one word from your mouth, alhaitham understands you immediately, no need to elaborate. it's long lasting, the mutual understanding the both of you have.

yeah, alhaitham can read you like a book. he takes great satisfaction in doing so, as well.

you grab his chin and tilt his head down to meet yours, giving him a chaste kiss on his lips. you grin once again (a sight alhaitham will never get sick of) and turn off the lamp next to your bed. you whisper, "good night," in his ear and cover yourself with the sheets as you drift off into sleep, content with this night despite the horrible book.

alhaitham softly smiles, even chuckles a little bit about how fast you went to bed. he traces your jawline with his thumb before turning off his light and pulling you closer into him.

alhaitham usually does not reread books. but, if you were a book, he'd think he would reread you over and over again, because every time he finds something new to love about you, there is always more. you reel him in more than any hook. you interest him more than any other topic. you grab his attention more than any other story.

maybe he's over exaggerating. but that's no big deal for now. for now, alhaitham will just enjoy you and your presence. and he will reread you the next time he has a chance.

umm idk if that ending made sense but it's like 4am rn and idrc. alhaitham is prob ooc in this but whateva bc i like my men to be nice bc I CAN CHANGE THEM!! anyway srry if this don't make sense its 4am rn

[undiscovered-horizon]

Return to sender - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[graphic descriptions of violence/injury]

SUMMARY: Someone from your past keeps sending you unambiguously romantic letters. While you think of them as nothing beyond an inconvenience, Kaz has a different opinion.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.9k

A/N: I'm going through the first editorial correction for my novel and as it turns out, I can't speak my own mother tongue lmao

Kaz has an eye for details. Whether it’s a pattern or an overlooked design, he always notices. That set of skills, either he learned them or was born with them, made it painfully obvious to him that your foul mood coincided with correspondence he never saw you actually read. The letter usually ends up in the nearest fireplace, its secrets never uncovered and you maunder around the club looking for a fight or a strong drink. A much bigger problem, however, was the fact that if you were in a sour mood, Kaz would become exceptionally chippy without an apparent cause. ‘Care for my investment’ he calls it, which makes a rather amusing euphemism.

In any event, he knows that the letter should arrive today. Exactly seven weeks had passed since the last time some mysterious correspondence pissed you off and the sender, as far as Kaz has noticed, is like clockwork. Strangely enough, he can’t recall a day when the letter should arrive that you’d come to the club already annoyed as though he has become privy to a rather obvious pattern that you remain oblivious to. If so, he has even more advantage - he can solve this inconvenience behind your back, in case you’d try to dismiss him. He wouldn’t listen anyway, of course. Not when it comes to you.

Knowing very well that you have a habit of arriving shortly after Inej, he’s quick to find the thief before you even get a chance of catching wind of his scheme. She’s fixing her clothes when she spots him hastily limping towards her with his face turned nearly into a snarl. A hand brushes through his hair. He’s agitated. But Inej knows better than to make the first move against the unmovable mountain. Kaz sought her out, after all, and if he means business, he won’t waste time.

And he does just as she thought. Speaking in a low tone, Kaz makes her part of his conspiracy: “Inej, I need you to do something but no one else can know. Someone will deliver a letter today. Follow them and find out as much as you can,” his voice is stern, not accepting refusal. The matter appears urgent, of utter importance.

Her keen gaze studies his face for a moment, looking for any way even the slightest tick of muscles could reveal a further piece of the mystery she isn’t yet privy to. “Is this about the new job we’re doing?” She elegantly manoeuvres around the subject.

Kaz knows what she’s trying to do. He clenches his jaw and gives her a blank, although somewhat impatient, look before slowly answering: “It’s rather loosely related.”

This is enough to put her curiosity on hold - for now, at least. The unmovable mountain remains, well, unmovable. Inej nods. “I’m on it.”

The moment she ends her sentence, the door to the club opens with a creek echoing through the otherwise empty venue, immediately earning the undivided attention of Kaz and Inej. The sound of heels against the wooden floor is unmistakable as is the fitting, rather short, coat. Inej smiles, stifling laughter as she notices Kaz immediately straightening his back when he sees you.

There’s a certain spring to your step, one that Kaz has learned to associate with complacency. Although this joyous aura is making his mind turn into quicksand swallowing anything coherent, he’s got enough grip on his thoughts to render his theory proved - you really do not have any idea that the letters come regularly. 

With a triumphant grin, you wave a scroll in his face. “I had a hunch and did some browsing at the city archives. You’re going to love it.”

Inej is gone and the only thing Kaz can do at the moment is wait along with trying his best not to think about this mail fiasco. But considering you’ll spend the entire day a mere inch or two away from him, he’s hardly going to do much thinking anyway. 

“Let’s see it then,” Kaz interposes before turning around and walking back to his office. 

Making his way to Brekker’s office, Jesper examined the expensive stationery from every side and angle. No matter the perspective, the cursive letters on the front still spell out your name. Truthfully, he does that every time you receive mail, mainly because of how little you talk about the possible sender. There’s always a huff, an eye-roll and the envelope ends up turned into ashes, without any further explanation. You become short-tempered for the rest of the day and go ballistic on anyone trying to inquire about the mysterious correspondence. As much entertainment as it usually brings Jesper, he’s smart enough to know when to stop poking the bear.

Jesper knocks on the door but opens them right after - announcing his arrival rather than asking for permission to enter. 

“...smuggling through the sewers.” He hears you finishing your sentence.

Both you and Kaz simultaneously tear away your gaze from the maps scattered on the table and bore your eyes into Jesper with anticipation. He lifts the letter, wriggling his wrist slightly, and immediately your expression falls. You clench your fist. A contemptuous grimace creeps onto your face.

“Letter for you,” he announces.

“By the Saints, not this again,” you whisper and roll your eyes.

“What do you mean again?” Jesper asks casually, half expecting you to break his hand and half hoping for an answer. Today, as it turns out, is his lucky day.

“A friend once convinced me to go to some socialite high tea with her. I met someone there, we wrote to each other a few times and then he started to be obnoxious, the whole ‘woe is me’ lark.” The memory must still be vivid to you as you let out an annoyed sigh. “He claimed he can’t live without me while never spelling my name correctly. But since I value myself a little too much to waste my time on pity parties, I simply stopped replying. The last letter I sent him, I don’t know, three years ago? And he just keeps coming back.” You clench your jaw, clearly stopping yourself from a string of profanities considered obscene even in this company.

Jesper puts on a playful grin. “You know, you never struck me as someone who’d have a secret admirer.”

Your irritated gaze makes him equally amused and nervous. “He’s not exactly secret, is he? More of a returning cockroach infestation. Worry not, boys, I’ll just burn this one like the rest and we can all forget about this little perplexity.”

“Come on, you’re not even a little bit curious about what’s inside?” Jesper coaxes as he hands you the letter.

“Believe me when I tell you that I don’t give a rat’s bald ass about this man and his pathetic wax poetic.” You snatch the envelope, all the while looking at your friend with squinted, piercing eyes. Considering who you are, a complete lack of curiosity whatsoever might as well be a symptom of a lethal disease.

In that short moment, when the stationery goes from Jesper’s hand into yours, Kaz watches the letter as closely as he can. Smooth paper, probably expensive. Careful lettering, written with patience and thoughtfulness. An aroma of mint and tobacco lingers on the parchment. The stamp has the current date on it and the postal code is only a few numbers away from the club’s - whoever sent it is in Ketterdam and quite close by.

Kaz makes those little observations just in time because you throw the letter into the fireplace behind him, without even glancing at the paper. The flames grow for a few seconds, devouring the dry stationery. Soon, there’s no evidence that any mail has been delivered to you on this day.

“Now, where were we?” You clap your hands. “Ah, sewers.” Jesper takes the change of subject as his cue to leave but you stop him right when he pushes down the door handle. “Oh, and Jesper? If you tell Inej, I’m ripping your arm off and beating you to death with it.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, a newfound sense of anxiety turning his vivid amusement into somewhat tame courtesy, leaving his smile unfaltering but tearing away the genuine joy behind it. “I will keep this enlightening piece of advice in mind, thank you.”

The door clicks as Jesper closes it behind himself. Returning to your previous engagement, you stumble upon Brekker’s stern gaze of disapproval. 

“Do not maim my investments.” Although it’s supposed to be a scolding or a threat, it comes out with a certain note of disinterest.

“Don’t try playing all nice, Kaz. You and I both know you’d watch for like ten minutes before stepping in.”

His gloved finger taps the map. “Sewers.” 

You mumble something along the lines of ‘yes, sir’ and pick up the single-handed divider again. Kaz examines your face out of the corner of his eye. Judging by your casual demeanour, the palm’s length between your heads is of no bother to you. Maybe you’re just too busy counting the segments with the divider. When you’re done, you reach for the other side of the desk, for a moment leaving broody Kaz to the, surprisingly cold, lukewarm air filling the room.

This day just can’t seem to end for Burr Lowther. First, he had to take his regular trip into the filth of the Barrel, he shudders at the memory, only to then spend another ten hours at the sewing workshop. Being a foreman pays exceptionally well and perhaps this is the only reason he’s still putting up with those lazy needlewomen. 

Putting his well-kept coat on the hanger by the front door, Burr lets out a sigh of relief - compared to the factory, his house is a quiet oasis. He remembers to take out a pouch and a box of expensive cigars from his coat. Without much thinking, he opens the small bag and puts another leaf of mint between his teeth. What started first as an addition to his personal hygiene, has quickly become a habit impossible to kill. Now used to the strong, chilly sensation on his tongue, he’s grown to like it. 

The house is drowning in darkness. Dim, yellow light from the streetlamps crawling in through the windows is barely enough to let him make his way around the furniture. Foreman Lowther is yet to start the fire in his living room but he needs to be quick - if he stalls too long his joints will begin to hurt. Even with laudanum, the ache is bound to keep him up for hours and that’s something he can’t afford. But first, he needs some light to be able to get the necessary things.

Chewing on the herb, Burr walks to the table across the room from the fireplace. He puts the new box of cigars down and begins looking for something to light the oil lamp. Once he blindly finds a box of matches, his muscle memory does most of the job - he’s lit up the lamp far too many times to think about the actions. In swift, mechanical motions, Burr takes off the chimney, lights the wick and puts the glass part back on. The fire brightens the rest of the table, reminding the foreman that he forgot to put away the made-to-order McKinnon & Co. stationery. He pushes the paper farther away from the lamp, just in case.

Burr’s knees make a cracking noise when he crouches in front of the fireplace. Carefully, he lights a match and puts it between logs and old newspapers. The fire smoulders for a moment, balancing between starting and being put out, before a bigger flame begins gnawing at the dry wood and paper. 

Foreman Lowther is about to stand up when something hits the side of his head, making his face clash with the seat of a nearby armchair. Scurrying and turning around, he sees an outline of a man, looking more like a feverish mare of the night than a real human. He’s thin and tall, dressed rather elegantly. The model crow on his cane glistens in the newly started fire.

“Who are you?” Burr’s voice cracks, giving away his panic.

“A scorned businessman, Burr Lowther,” Kaz explains slowly.

The foreman climbs backwards into the armchair. It’s difficult to look imposing while sitting beside a fireplace but his fear is far too severe to let the man stand on his own two feet.

“I’ve no business with you!” he yells. A few droplets of spit fly out of his mouth. “Get out!” Burr’s shaky hand points vaguely in the direction of the front door but Kaz, as it seems, is not going anywhere just yet.

In slow steps, Kaz gets closer to Burr, the difference in height painting him even more menacing. Lowther’s hand falls limp on a small table meant for trays with food.

“Perhaps you don’t. But I have plenty with you.”

Before foreman Lowther can ask another question, Brekker drives a sharp blade through the man’s palm, pinning it to the wooden counter. A howl of pain cuts through the night, scaring away the birds sitting outside the windows. Thick, crimson blood spills from the wound, falling to the floor in long drops. The fireplace’s flame glistens in the growing puddle, the reflection dances in morbid anticipation.

Kaz walks over to the table with the oil lamp. The first thing that catches his eye is the ivory paper. Somehow, he stifles the visceral reaction it elicits from him. Grabbing the wad of stationery, he folds it a few times and puts it in the inner pocket of his coat. Then his gaze trails towards the wooden box of cigars. The name of the company, Starling, is burned in cursive lettering on the front. In a swift movement, Kaz slides the package open, knowing exactly what he’s going to find inside - a cigar cutter. For people who can afford Starling tobacco products, it definitely doesn’t befit to chew off the end.

Firelight cascades off the metal cutter when Kaz turns back towards Burr. The man’s eyes widen in panic, recognizing the sharp device put against him.

“No, sir,” Burr begs with a frantic shake of his head. “Oh, Saints, please, no! Don’t! I’m begging you, sir! Please, please! No, please!”

Brekker’s face doesn’t change its indifferent expression. The pleading is not putting him off, never faltering his already-made decision. Perhaps, if it isn’t too morbid to consider, he’s enjoying having someone at his mercy. The cigar cutter clicks quietly as Kaz closes it a few times to check the state of the mechanism.

Kaz makes his way back to the foreman. Casually, he puts his cane against the table but away from the nailed palm, careful not to get it dirty. Then, he snatches Burr’s other hand, the swiftness diminishing all doubts that he’s inexperienced in bringing suffering.

“You have laid your hands on something that isn’t yours, Lowther,” Brekker explains as he forces one of the man’s fingers through the cutter’s opening. “Now you must pay for it.”

A muscle in his face ticks as he presses the cigar cutter. Burr howls in agony, tears streaming down his face. The finger falls to the floor with a wet slap as blood begins to pour. The white tip of the bone sticks out from the pulsating flesh, glistening in the warm, dim light of the burning fireplace.

In a feverish delirium, Lowther mumbles something under his nose, the string of incomprehensible words sometimes interrupted by sobs. Kaz can understand only two things from the ramblings of a madman: ‘wench’ and ‘reply’. Scarce information but he hardly needs more.

“Wench?” he repeats in a low voice.

With a snap of his wrist, Kaz twists the knife still residing in the man’s hand. A bone cracks. But there’s no scream this time - not an ounce of strength left in the victim. Lonely tears stream down his grey face, mixing with cold sweat as he blankly stares ahead. A gloved hand yanks his head back by the hair, forcing delirious Burr to look into Brekker’s eyes. They look darker than they should, clouded with something far too horrible to be considered human.

“Not only did you lay your filthy hands on something of mine,” Kaz’s voice is low enough to resemble a growl as though something carnal inside him has finally woken from its slumber, “but you also dare insult her.”

Burr makes a strange guttural noise, something between a gag reflex and a murmur, as another one of his fingers is cut off. Considering his vacant expression, it’s hard to say whether his consciousness even registered the loss.

Kaz tosses away the cigar cutter. It clutters and clicks falling in the largely unknown corner of the room. Reaching inside his coat, he pulls out the folded stationery. Pressing tightly on Burr’s cheeks, he forces the man’s mouth open.

“I don’t think you will be needing this anymore.”

Even if foreman Lowther was in his right mind at the moment, there wouldn’t be much he could do to prevent Kaz from shoving the dry paper down his throat. A match, a spark, a smoulder - the ivory stationery is burning inside Burr’s mouth.

Leaving Burr Lowther to his own devices, Kaz Brekker leaves the house, joining the otherwise grey and indifferent citizens of Ketterdam. The sunrise is just a few hours away. He’s making his way back to the club, uninterrupted and unbothered, to enjoy another day of your hardly divided attention.

[live-laugh-lenney]

interruption | arthurtv

hello!

not very good as following a routine or any kind of schedule so the posting of my writing will be rather sporadic... i do apologise but bear with me on that.

here's one that i've been working on for a couple of weeks, from a request that was sent in to my inbox, so i hope that whoever did ask me to write this enjoys it. let me know what you think and don't hesitate to send in your feedback or send in any ideas that you want me to write.

thank you! love to you all!

enjoy. x

*

Cosy.

That’s how she would describe Arthur’s flat. 

Cosy and very him.

All open plan, with his kitchen melding with his living room mixing with his dining room, but so warm and inviting. A knitted throw-blanket folded and draped over the back of his sofa, that he always said was for show but he never scolded YN when she unravelled the fabric and threw it over her legs when she was curled up beside him, or took it to his bedroom when the nights were too cold for just a duvet and his radiating body heat. Books, labelled from fictional titles to nonfiction titles and autobiographies through to encyclopaedias sat on shelves attached the the walls of his living room, with photo frames of him and his family and wax burners filling in the gaps that melted scents of cinnamon and spiced orange, succulents draped down and in witty plant pots that his friends would buy him for Christmas. Lamps in every corner of his main living space because he felt that the main lighting was much too bright, especially for evenings spent at home with a good book that he’d brought from the bookstore on his outing into the city centre, or too bright for an evening spent at home watching a television show he’d been recommended to watch by one of his friends. 

Where her flat was more in the centre of London, closer to where she worked in an independent coffee house which definitely challenged the Starbucks and Costa’s that were close-by, she became used to the sounds of passing cars and honking taxis and the distant sound of the overground squeaking on the rails as it approached its destination. The hustle and bustle of tourists passing by the entrance to her flat complex, shops on her doorstep, in an area that was full of high-rise buildings and overlooked a park that she spent many of the summery days sat in, with a picnic from Waitrose and a good book and with Arthur, enjoying the time together. So being in the part of London that almost instantaneously switches off in the middle of the evening, once everyone had travelled home and everything had shut up shop for the night, felt almost peaceful to her.

She much preferred his living space to her own…but she was sure that it was the feeling of being in the same vicinity as him that warmed her more than being in the flat itself.

On the evenings he would film with Alex and George and Cam, for a Chaos Crew video that seemed to be in high demand, she found herself dillying around his home and finding things to do until he was finished for the night. If it wasn’t cooking them both a dinner to eat once he was done, it was reading something from his ever growing collection of novels; and if she wasn’t reading a book, she was logging into his Netflix and watching a film to pass the time and, if she’d had a busy day and felt her eyelids sitting heaving, she would curl up and take a nap on the sofa until she was woken up with a soft kiss to the forehead or a gentle nudge into her thigh to wake her up.

But there was something about that evening where she just wanted to be near him.

They’d both, surprisingly, had days off that coincided with each other so they spent the day together and they came rarely and not very often - taking it in their stride and making the most of getting to spend quality time together.They went shopping down the strip together and spoilt the other whenever they saw them looking at something for a little longer than normal, they popped into her coffee house for a cream cake and a coffee and to say hello to her friends who were working that day, they went food shopping because his fridge was a little scarce when it came to ingredients for a dinner that was substantial and they shared a late dinner together where they sat at the dining table with a candle and some fizzy apple juice to impersonate wine because neither of them fancied a drink that night. But she knew their time together was inevitable and she couldn’t help but look at the clock as she counted the minutes down till he said he needed to film a new video - and she couldn’t complain because, well, she had spent the last twelve hours with him. 

But, twelve hours just didn’t feel like enough.

She hated using the word clingy when it came to her relationship with Arthur but… she felt clingy. 

Across the space of his living room, she swerved the sofa and dodged his furniture and tucked the blanket a bit tighter over her shoulders as the gentle breeze of her movements blew it from the bare skin showing for her t-shirt - well, not her t-shirt but Arthur’s t-shirt, yet she claimed it as her own and he couldn’t say no to her when he thought she looked beautiful in his clothing - and she made her way down his hallway to. Goosebumps on her legs as she left the warmth of the sofa but they soon disappeared as she got closer to his office door, accustomed to the chill in the air.

“You know when this guy is telling him to tone it down that he needs to take it down a level,” she heard Arthur remark, a gentle snicker following in suit. 

“Uh, yeah, looking a little bit like a geek there… might want to tone it down,” George’s laugh came next, followed by a chorus of cackles and snickers from the other guys sat on the Discord video call.

“He’s got a fourth badge that’s just homophobic,” her boyfriend retorted back and at that, she rolled her eyes and an unsure smile on her lips because of the emphasis on the last word of his sentence.

She could hear that whatever they were watching on Youtube had been unpaused, ready to carry on before they took another break to add commentary content to the video, and her hand halted over the door handle to his office. Shuffling on her bare feet, the wooden floor of his hallway was cold beneath the pads of her toes, and she just couldn’t figure out the right time to poke her head into his room and ask him just how long he was going to be. She didn’t want to be a bother but the longing-for-him feeling, that sat low in her belly, was becoming a bother to her.

“It is kind of cute. I actually do kind of rate it, like being your own superhero and that… but it is the kind of thing you grow out of when you’re like six,” Arthur stated. 

“Yeah, you’ve got to go as something recognisable surely, right?” Alex questioned and there were some gentle hums of agreement throughout that she probably would have joined in with if they were all sat in a room together and discussing that specific topic, “if you’re gonna go as anything at all.”

“What did you go as to Comic Con?” Arthur wondered, asking the question that everyone was thinking; “I went as Obi Wan Kenobi,” came Alex’s response and he was instantly met with silence. YN could just imagine the smirks and the grins and the laughter that were almost bursting to come to light from the three guys sat there, taking in everything they’d heard.

And YN took the chance.

The door handle squeaked as she applied pressure and the door creaked as she opened it, poking her head into the room, met with the sage green wallpaper of his office and the dim lighting filling the space that he used as background lighting - because he still found his main light to be too bright when filming his Youtube videos. He turned in his seat and let his eyes adjust, smiling upon her arrival once he saw her full figure standing in the doorway, the screen illuminating the side of his face and he slipped his headphones from on top of his head and down to his neck.

“You okay, lovie?”

“Just wanted to know how long you were going to be,” she hummed softly, almost too quiet, but she didn’t want to interfere with their recording because then he’d have been there even longer than planned, “I was gonna have a nap on the sofa but I won’t if you’re not gonna be too long.”

“I won’t be long, no,” he said, “there’s not long left of this video. Give me twenty minutes?”

“I’ll wait up for you,” she smiled, “mind if I just sit in here and watch? Promise I won’t make any sounds. I’m a bit bored out there on my own.”

Arthur smiled warmly at her, letting his eyes wander up and down her body as he took in her comfy appearance, holding up his pointer finger as he turned back to face his monitors and slid his headphones back up his head, setting them back on his ears.

“Guys, YN’s here.”

She could hear the muffled cheers through his headphones from his announcement and she grinned shyly, tightening the blanket around her shoulders, and she closed the bedroom door behind her before shuffling across the carpet. He gave his thighs a pat, inviting her to come and sit with him for a brief few minutes, and she quietly took him up on that offer as she blushed and nodded. He situated himself a bit more comfortably in his chair, unplugging his headphones so she could hear what was happening and moving any lingering wires so she could settle herself down on his lap without pulling any screens off of his desk. Curling up under his arm and bringing her knees to her chest, covering herself with the blanket draped over her shoulders, releasing a content sigh. She wasn’t bothered by her appearance on the screen because she knew he wouldn’t include any of what was happening, without her permission, in the final cut on Youtube.

“How have you been, YN?”

“I’ve been good, yeah. Ready for a sleep but you guys just had to come first tonight,” she smirked, feeling Arthur’s hand tuck beneath the t-shirt hanging down her frame, his fingers tickling up her side in a relaxing and comforting manner, “I feel I haven’t seen you guys for weeks.”

“You haven’t actually,” George remarked with a hint of feigned annoyance, a similar smirk sitting on his mouth, “spending all your time with Arthur now, aren’t you? Taking him away from us. We’ll have to fight for custody.”

She rolled her eyes with a grin and dropped her head into the curve of Arthur’s neck and his jawline, inhaling softly and breathing in the faint scent of cologne still left on his clothing, his arms tightening around her. 

He was warm. 

So warm. 

His hands wouldn’t leave her skin. His arm stayed tight to her waist and his fingers traced soft circles into her hip, just above the waistband of the knickers that dug into her skin, and his free hand kept in its place upon her knee and he gave her a squeeze every so often. 

“I’m letting you have him this weekend,” she hummed, “Platform Roulette, no?”

“I only get him when he’s drunk and annoying,” George frowned playfully, “you get him when he’s all cute and soppy. One can only dream of that interaction, used to have it all the time.”

“YN’s cute and soppy also so they’re practically a match made in heaven,” Cam cackled and YN felt the heat creep up her neck and settle across the expanse of her cheeks, “look at you guys, it’s just adorable and it makes me feel sick.”

“Cam, oh my god,” Arthur laughed, “you guys suck.”

“We love you both really,” Alex smiled, “you know we do.”

*

honestly, ending a story just isn't my forte... i just hate every ending i write.

anyway!

if you got this far then thank you for reading. means a lot to me that you've reached the end. please let me know what you think and don’t hesitate to send me any ideas you may have for future fics. my ask box is always open so don’t hesitate to send anything in.

lots of love to you guys! thank you! xx

[spockandawe]

You know what I can't get enough of? Speculation about what the fictional novel Proud Immortal Demon Way says about its fictional author. Because it would be completely possible to make a story like this without that connection. I'm not sure I've read any other transmigration story where the author was a character, so just that addition adds a lot of interesting texture to the situation even without getting deep in the author's head, but it's so interesting how deep I can speculate in so many directions if I think about getting in his head.

And oh man, I could talk for AGES about how Shang Qinghua and his iconic protagonist reflect each other, but a lot of people have written about that already! Including in the medium of fic, which is my favorite way to consume that kind of crunch. So let's talk about familial neglect and mistreatment and the author's favorite character.

Honestly, when I look at how iconic this ship is, I'm astonished there aren't more hit novels where the author gets yeeted into their own book and has to navigate platonic or romantic relationships with their own characters. A lot of the parallels between Shang Qinghua and Luo Binghe are about them being alike in ugly and vulnerable ways, ways I don't think either of them likes about themselves, and regarding aspects of their personalities that I don't think they'd be happy discussing period. Like, Binghe very much hates himself, that's right there on the page. And Shang Qinghua is a ridiculous character, he's very funny, but he's also not stupid. He's very aware of who he is and what he is, and makes a decision to behave the ways he does. I'm typing this up because I was scrolling through an old chat looking for something and tripped across a conversation about shang qinghua and fawn trauma response.

He knows he does this thing! He has an easy opening to turbokill Mobei-jun while he's unconscious and decides to go the route of begging for his life and trying to ingratiate himself after Mobei-jun wakes up instead, which is a much trickier process. He says it himself, that Mobei-jun is his ideal, that he embodies everything Shang Qinghua wants to be, that etc. And that's hilarious and all, especially in light of the eventual romance and the clownery it takes to get there, but in classic svsss fashion, it also becomes a lot sadder when you add up all the pieces and see everything Shang Qinghua hates about himself.

In some ways he's an even more avoidant narrator than Shen Qingqiu, he deflects and jokes like a motherfucker, so it really is a matter of assembling all the pieces and seeing where there are gaps. But what really underscored the connection for me was Mobei-jun's reaction to parental neglect. Because that's what pushed Shang Qinghua into being an author in the first place, his parents divorced and remarried and kinda just.... forgot about him.

Mobei-jun's dad doesn't exactly do that, but he is operating without a mom in the picture, and rather than remarrying, he just chooses to ignore the thing where his shitty brother is persistently trying to kill his son. That really sucks! But Mobei-jun never shows the smallest hint of weakness or vulnerability over this, even when it would have really helped to use his words, like 'hi my uncle is coming to kill me and i trust you to protect me.' He's everything cool, aloof, arrogant, proud, all a bunch of adjectives that really do not apply to Shang Qinghua. Mobei-jun honestly looks like a boring character if you just stick to the main story, because he's so self-contained and controlled. Compare and contrast to Shang Qinghua, who accidentally outs himself as a transmigrator like two minutes after showing up and proceeds to be hilarious for the rest of the book.

(Brief aside to say that I don't think Mobei-jun is necessarily a happier or healthier person for all of this, lmao. The conversation that fawn reaction thing came from was talking about freeze (tee hee) versus fawn in response to threats or stressful situations. But that goes along with the svsss theme of people used to engaging with this universe as a fictional property coming to terms with the depth and complexity of other people's emotions and not just seeing them as simplistic not-real characters in a book)

(Additionally, this makes the ship hilarious as a take on 'opposites attract,' but also it gives me actual Emotions that Shang Qinghua's ideal who he wishes he could be, purely incidentally, he is able to value and love Shang Qinghua in a way that Shang Qinghua can't and doesn't seem to totally understand)

And what's very interesting here. Is that Shang Qinghua made these two characters, Luo Binghe and Mobei-jun. His protagonist ultimately reflects a lot of his own vulnerabilities and insecurities (secretly and quietly in pidw, much more.... overtly in svsss), and Mobei-jun corrects for his vulnerabilities and insecurities. He's the person Shang Qinghua wishes he could be, which is basically... the opposite of Shang Qinghua, to an almost comical degree. And he then gives Mobei-jun the VERY BEST plot armor he can devise. It's hard for a male character to exist near a stallion protagonist without getting swept up in rivalries/suspicions/etc and getting killed by the protagonist, but he makes sure that his favorite character is safe from these things. He's protecting the character he wishes he could be from the character whose faults most reflect his own. That is very sweet and weird and sad, and that's very reflective of the svsss experience, I think.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Experience.

Yan Nanami x GN Reader.

Synopsis: Kento says to meet him downstairs to get ready to go outside.

Warnings: Yandere themes, past stalking, kidnapping, manipulation, and past violence.

Word Count: 800.

*~*~*~*

Last winter, your captor informed you that you would have the opportunity to venture outdoors when the darkness fell, the streets were deserted, and the pavements were sprinkled with salt. Despite endlessly waiting for Kento to stop reading his book and unlock the closet near the entrance, allowing you to slip into your jacket, the awaited moment never arrived. This instance marked the first occasion when Kento inflicted more emotional pain upon you than physical.

It hurt because he promised. Kento had never broken a promise to you before. Never. For better or worse, whether that was promising to buy you a cake for when you were good for a few weeks or promising to slap you across the face whenever he caught you mid-escape attempt. 

You asked him if he was going to take you when the sun had set, the fireplace was lit and your cup of tea had long since become cold. For what seemed like an eternity, his gaze lingered, chilling you to the bone from head to toe. Silence. No answer. You teared up and kept scrambling and muttering begs to go outside even if it was just for a moment or two.

With every one, he shook his head and turned to another page of his novel. After enough, he started to sigh to the rest of them. Soon, you stopped, looking down at your cold feet and shuffling to the kitchen to grab your sweater, as useless as it was to keep you warm in this weather. That was when he spoke.

“It’s snowing.” Kento pointed to the apartment window, and the winter wonderland outside looked more horrifying than hell to you and to you alone. Snowflakes rush to the ground every second, painting the sidewalks and roads a shade of white fit for a traditional bridal veil. “You’ll catch a cold, and you could get hurt.”

You stopped walking and faced him. Tears fell from your eyes then, after so long of being unpunished. Despite the warmth of the flames within the stoker placed by the television, your cheeks felt so stinging that you could have sworn that your cries would turn into icicles that would sooner than later impale your feet. You sniffle, and Kento stands up from his rocking chair at long last.

Old habits die hard and come back to life at that very moment. Impulses, animal, and raw and afraid. You ran frantically, wanting to be anywhere but in the same room as him at the very least. But wherever you ran and hid, he would always find you.

In no time, you discovered your back against the wall, caught between the pantry door that refused to budge and the ever-present figure of Kento. It felt like a repeat of the day you awoke in this place, only this time Kento displayed a touch of kindness he lacked before, back when you bit and screamed and always got tied up or hit with his belt. So, because of this slight development, rather than resorting to violence or depriving you of your fundamental rights, he opted for a different approach–a proposition to be exact. 

“We… can bake something.” He utters his words with a hint of uncertainty. “Something warm. Whatever you want. I just don’t want you to get sick. During the colder times of the month, influenza especially gets passed around as quickly as wildfire. There is also the common cold. Those… and curses. You aren’t strong enough to defeat them. We both already know that don’t we?”

Despite its lack of fairness, the exchange was still a trade, albeit an imbalanced one. So, you think. Things are set in stone already for Kento. He won’t budge. You may as well not try to delay the inevitable. So, slowly but surely, you nod, almost choking up another sob as you do so.

“I… Yeah. W-We can bake something.”

“Good. How about some cookies? It is the holiday season after all.”

Memories of joyful holidays spent with your true family flood your mind, contrasting sharply with the current reality of being trapped by a deranged stalker. As long as this manipulator holds power over you, the chances of reuniting with your loved ones grow increasingly slim. Concern gnaws at your heart – are your family members safe and sound? You can only hope for their well-being.

However, your heart reminds you that it's important to prioritize yourself. Consequently, you decide to proceed and accept whatever you can in the present moment. Whatever you can.

No matter the circumstances, you find yourself trapped in a suffocating grip. It could be the frost, the concern you harbor for your dear ones, or the relentless pressure of Kento's hands gripping you tightly until you're on the verge of breaking. Turning the heat up will only burn your flesh and not melt away anything. You are going to get hurt whether it is used or not.

[manicpixiefelix]

they stare at me (and i stare at you) {Felix Catton/Reader}

one. i saw you kept your gaze controlled

Summary: It's Orientation Week at Oxford and Felix is excited to experience everything university life has to offer him. Mostly socially. Almost all of his peers, thankfully, seem to be on the same wavelength as him, except you. Fine, if you wanted to take yourself too seriously, you could do it far away from him, he thinks. At least, that's what he thinks at first.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. Reader is the Acting CEO of their family's International Media and Telecommunications Empire. There will be smut in future chapters (see masterpost for more details/warnings). You & Felix are both 19.

This is technically an AU of my long running fic head, heart, hand. but can be read 100% on its own. No prior information from that fic is necessary going into this at all.

{ masterpost }

A/N: 1787 words. Hi! Excited to finally be publishing the first part of this!! Updates will be slow, but I've already got about 20k written from all around the timeline so I just need to piece everything together. This takes place in Felix's first year of Uni so this fic won't feature Oliver. If you like it, or have thoughts about it, I'd love to hear from you!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

There's a novel charm, Felix considers, about moving into the Oxford dormitories, even if the hallowed halls echo his own home more than most other students.

During orientation, he makes friends easily, all warm smiles and sincere laughter; people have always flocked to Felix. Part of it is his natural charm, but he's never been above exploiting his looks while putting his best foot forward in situations like these. His outfits are always on trend and on brand, and he spends longer in the mirror than he'd ever admit to another living soul.

It was a breeze to make friends of his peers, the people in his course - business, at his parents suggestion - the people in his dorm, anyone he really came across who felt like giving him the time of day. Everything always seemed to reinforce what he already knew; Felix Catton was a born people-person, there was nothing that could shake his confidence in that fact. Well there wasn't anything, until he met you.

In all honesty, Felix's first impression of you was that you were strangely familiar, but ultimately rather dull.

During that orientation week, he'd gotten himself to all of the introductory workshops to his course that the University had set up for students to meet their classmates and get an overview of their degrees. At every single one, you were there, hanging back, rather quiet, seeming preferring to observe the rest of your peers unless your input was specifically called for. Again, your name rang a bell to him, but you were a non-event otherwise as he focused on getting to know the people who seemed far more eager to engage. At best, you were simply a standoffish prick at the back of the room who always felt the need to wear fucking business casual to decidedly casual casual workshops.

Once, he overhears a guy he thinks is named Benji asking if he'd seen you at the club that night. Though your smile is barely a smile, more a suggestion of amusement rather than anything else, your tone is sharp and bright.

"Of course I'll be there."

"Looking forward to it," Benji grins, before heading off in the opposite direction. Felix realises he's been caught eavesdropping when your gaze meets his. He's not quite sure how to react, not to the conversation he'd overheard, nor to the curious look you're now giving him. Instead of calling him out, or even saying anything at all, you nod to him once, and take off in the direction of the dining hall.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Felix finds himself at the club that had been catering to the first years every night this week so far. He drinks, he has a good time, and he ends up going home with a pretty girl studying Chemistry, but he didn't recognise anyone there to be you.

More and more he starts seeing you around campus, or maybe it just feels like that now that you've caught his attention. Did you always have people around you or did he not notice you amongst some of the people he'd started to befriend. Our maybe he hasn't reconsidered you because he'd never seen you properly smile like that before. Everywhere Felix saw you, you were amongst friends, sometimes even one or two of his. It was never opportune moments, however, he always seemed to be on his way to or from something. He felt like he never got the opportunity to properly meet you.

Until it's eleven o'clock on a Friday night, and he hears your voice coming from around the side of one of the dorms as he was on his way to celebrate the last day of orientation week with the rest of the first years.

"- yeah, no, I know it was Decker," you sounded annoyed, and when Felix investigates, he sees you leaning against the wall by the entrance to a dorm building, phone to your ear, smoking a cigarette. Except if he hadn't just heard your voice, he'd barely be able to tell it was you; why the hell would you choose to live your life in business casual when you could look this damn good? "Because Decker's been a pain in my ass ever since -" whoever was on the other end of your call cut you off and you sighed deeply, pinching your brow out of frustration, "yeah, I just need this pulled before it can get to print for Monday," you sighed. Stubbing your cigarette out on the wall, you ducked down to pick up a dark bottle that had been hidden in the bushes by your feet.

Felix doesn't know exactly why he keeps watching, but he's fascinated. He can't look away.

"I emailed you a bunch of ads for charities we could run in its place, pick one, stick it in, it's on me, it's my good deed for the day- no, tonight!" You insisted, scowling, before you took a sip of your drink, rebuffing whoever is protesting on the other end of the line, "I'd rather the page be fucking blank- because we're not printing a homophobic hit piece on Portia De Rossi a week after she comes out!" You argued, before you sighed deeply, adding, "or ever, fucking obviously." Then, frustrated, "of course Decker fucking okayed it, you saw the shit he wrote about Rosie O'Donnell back before I -" but again, you were cut off, "I told him to cut that shit out the moment-" you took another drink, furious, "no, first thing Monday I'm having words with him." There's a terse goodbye, and your phone clicks shut, and Felix suddenly feels like he's snapping out of a trance.

"Can I help you with something?" You snapped suddenly, seemingly to no-one. Felix feels his heart rate pick up nervously. It only spikes hire when your head turns to look at him. Your gaze is ice fucking cold. You take another drink.

"Is everything okay?" Felix hears himself asking. Your lips twisted into a humourless smile, and you reached into your pocket to pull out a pocketbook of cigarettes.

"Peachy," you say bitterly, "do you have a light? I usually wouldn't ask but these pants are stupidly tight and it's going to be a hassle to get my own."

"Downside to looking that good I guess," Felix steps forward, rummaging around in his jacket pocket to find his lighter. What he's said doesn't hit him until you're leaning in to light your cigarette from his offered fire, but it seems you hadn't quite heard him, to preoccupied with your thoughts, "are you on your way out tonight?" Felix tries again, and you take a long draft, thanking him quietly as your expression scrunched up with a thoughtful kind of irritation.

"Is getting absolutely pissed tonight the smartest move? Absolutely not," you huffed, jaw set in a firm line, "am I going to do it anyways? You fucking bet." Then, you turn to him, eyebrows raised, "what about you, Catton?"

Felix kind of feels like you'd just smacked him. What?

"How did you know -?"

"Heard your name a dozen times over the week, we're in the same course," you offered easily. This Felix knew, however the alarm bells in Felix's mind just started ringing louder. There was something about you now, something almost too casual about how you choose to look away, take another sip of your drink.

"Pretty sure they only asked for our first names," he frowns. There's something rather dreadful the way you look at him out of the corner of your eye, smile curling at the edges of your lips like you're pleased.

"Perceptive one, aren't you?" The tone of your voice makes him feel like he's won the world's worst prize. Pushing off of the wall, you make a start towards him, and the path off of campus. You shove your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket as you pass, "walk with me, Felix Catton," you called out to him as he watches you pass.

He thinks you might be a trickster spirit, attempting to steal his soul. Or maybe you're just going to kill him.

For some stupid reason, he still chooses to walk with you.

He really tries not to dwell on how unsettling it was that you seemed to know more about him than you let on. He's pretty sure he recognises you from somewhere, perhaps you'd recognised him too, and you'd simply remembered.

"You're Y/N," your last name, however, does not come to mind. You confirmed easily, offering him a cigarette. He doesn't need to prompt for your last name, thankfully; you offer it. Somehow, it still doesn't feel like an equal exchange. There's several minutes of silence, broken only by the gentle sound of gravel crunching beneath both your feet, and the occasional sip you take of your drink. Finally, Felix asks who Decker is.

"Twenty stone worth of bigotry shoved into the most weasly looking cunt you've ever seen in your life," you muttered darkly, though the wording shocks a laugh from Felix, and your anger softens at the sound, wearing a pleased little grin when you look over to him, "he knows I check everything, especially his shit since I don't trust him, don't know how he thought he could pull a fast one on me like that."

"What kind of work do you do?"

"It's just the family business," you shrugged off the question with ease, "I've been helping dad out with it for years, so he's asked me to take care of a few things while he's on holiday."

"Local paper?"

"What?"

"You were talking about something going to print on Monday, does your family run a local paper back home?" When Felix's question is met with silence, he looks to you. He wasn't expecting to see you looking suddenly uncomfortable.

"Something like that," was all you offered, evasively. There's another beat of silence before you seem to shrug off your discomfort, giving him a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes, "our parents are friends," direct and to the point, "I used to see you at," you paused for a moment, deliberating, adding carefully, "parties." Eyes bright, there's still something careful beneath that in the way you're watching him. Parties, you say when he knows you meant events. The formal kind he fucking hated. Huh.

"That's where you got my name from," his relief, however, is short-lived when he sees the strange look you give him. But in the next minute it's gone, and you're looking out to the road ahead.

"Exactly."

For reasons Felix can't put into words, there's not a single part of him that believes you.

[builtbybrokenbells]

It’s Never Over

A blowout resulting in an untimely breakup between y/n and her long term boyfriend leaves both of them broken. A year and a half later, after nothing but radio silence and unrequited love, they find themselves face to face once more. Both grown up, living completely different lives, but still hurting over mistakes their younger selves made, and still hopelessly head over heels for each other. They find themselves caught up in the struggle of choice; to allow history to repeat itself, or let the memory of their past fade away into nothing.

listen while reading: lover, you should’ve come over - Jeff Buckley

Pairing: josh kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 17.7k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, sweet soft makeup sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, praise, pet names, body worshiping ig if you squint, breakups/breakup talk, angst (with a happy ending 😁), mentions of drugs, drinking, sad josh (needs a warning of its own), crying, some yelling, sweetness, tooth rotting fluff, sorry if I miss any!!!

so somebody requested some josh angst and i just couldn’t help myself 🤭 a very happy ending, pinky promise. you guys know me well enough to know I’m a slut for happy endings. also sorry it turned out so long, i HAVE to stop it with the literal novels. i just got super attached to the characters and got carried away (what else is new). i also wrote this mostly in one sitting so I had to trim a lot and add things here and there, but i hope this is satisfactory!! also not fantastically edited, cause I’m super lazy 🫣 as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

~

The silk of your dress clung to your skin, the slit in the leg just promiscuous enough to catch eyes, but not enough to be uncomfortably exposed. The deep emerald green was elegant, a fantastic choice on your part. Your hair hung loosely over your shoulders, the scent of your perfume radiating around you. You were dressed to the nines, much like the other women pooling into the lobby of the five-star hotel. Even so, you had never felt more out of place. As you anxiously awaited the progression to the main event, you couldn’t help but check over your shoulders every few minutes. You were hoping to catch sight of any familiar faces before they saw you, in hopes of a head start to hide away. You straightened your hair out and fixed the straps of your dress, trying to pass a few more minutes without focusing on your nervousness.

It was your first time back in Nashville after a year and a half of avoiding it. You’d moved to New York some time ago and hadn’t looked back since. Your hometown was greatly missed, but for no reasons that were obvious. You didn’t miss your family; you shared phone calls and texts, which was perfectly fine for you. They’d always been a bit hard on the head, raving about appearance and sophistication rather than fun and happiness, so the distance wasn’t terribly troublesome. Your siblings were scattered across the world, anyway, so the change in location really had no effect on the relationships you previously had with them. The town itself wasn’t troublesome to leave behind, either. You had gotten your fill of it in your first twenty-some years of life, and it was quite refreshing to get out into the world and see something new.

What you did miss, though, was the boy you left behind. Although, it wasn’t a choice to leave him; he’d made that decision for you, and without a hesitation, too. You never expected him to come with you while you followed your dream. It would be selfish to expect him to leave everything behind to chase you around the world. But, you did hope that there was a part of him that wanted to make it work despite the distance, like you’d done for him countless times. When you told him you had to go, that the move was something you desperately needed, all of the love he ever had for you seemed to disappear. He turned cold and distant, and ended things without a second thought.

“Please, Josh, just listen to me for one minute!” You begged, tears forming in your eyes. His usually joyous face was nothing short of indifferent towards you, now.

“I don’t have anything to talk about with you, y/n.” The words were equal to a stab to the chest. His eyes were looking anywhere but you, secretly afraid he’d break down and tell you everything he was holding back.

“You’re going to throw the last three years out the window over this? Without a compromise, or a conversation, or anything at all?” There was a few feet of space between you, both scared of breaking the invisible boundary.

“You’re leaving! You pack up all of your shit and move in with me, just to tell me a few months later that you’re moving across the country? You’ve known for a while, and you’re just telling me now?” He finally broke, the pain in his eyes clearer than anything you’d ever seen. The accusatory tone was infuriating, as if he was sentencing you with a crime you hadn’t committed.

“I haven’t known for a while, Josh. I just got the email today! I applied thinking there was no way in hell I would ever hear back, but I did, and I have to go. This is my dream, you know that. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.” You pleaded for him to see reason.

“The only thing, huh?” You could tell the statement landed wrong, feeling guilty for even making him think that was what you meant. “I tell you all of the time you can come work with us, design for us; we’d be more than happy to have you there.”

“I can’t do that! I can’t always be in the background of your fame. I can’t backpack off of your success, live in the shadows of my boyfriend forever. I need to make a name for myself, to prove to everyone that I can do it on my own, without any handouts.” You explained. He nodded, barely responding to anything you had to say about it.

“That’s fine, y/n. Go, live your dream. I’m not stopping you.” He sounded defeated, like he was giving up.

“What about us?” You whispered, your voice hoarse from the hours of back-and-fourth yelling.

“Clearly you weren’t thinking about me when you made the decision, so why are you worried about it, now?” Your heart broke, the tears you were holding back finally falling down your cheeks. “You can go, but I’m not going to wait for you to come back.” Silence hung thick in the air, and for the first time in your long history, it was uncomfortable.

“So that’s it?” You snapped. “I can sit at home while you travel the world, wait for you to come home, not know if you’re sleeping with the millions of girls that throw themselves at you? That’s fine? But the minute I want to get out of here, escape the shitty 9-5 lifestyle and do something for myself, I’m the bad guy? I’m not asking you to drop everything and come with me, I’m just asking you to love me enough to support me while I do it!” You could see regret flash in his eyes, both of your emotions running high and clouding your judgement. When he remained silent, you got more than enough of an answer. “Okay,” you let out a small, humourless laugh. “I’ll get my shit, then. If this is how you want to go about it, fine by me. You’ll never have to see me again.” You turned towards the hallway, preparing yourself to pack up your entire life.

“Y/n,” he said, stopping you for a moment. “Just stay, please.” You could hear tears in his voice, too.

“So I can sit around and wait for you for the rest of my life?” Your voice cracked, effortlessly showing him all of the emotion you were trying not to let out. “I can’t put everything on pause because you don’t want me to go, Josh. I might never get a chance like this ever again. I don’t want to leave you, but this is my life. My dream.”

“I’m supposed to be a part of your life, too.”

“Not if you make me choose.”

“So you’ve already made up your mind?” The accusation fuelled a fire in you.

“I was hoping to have both, but I guess we can’t have everything we want.” He let out a long exhale.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He grumbled. “You’re leaving to chase after a possibility, y/n. You’re gonna move out there with no real offer lined up? You could get out there and end up at another shitty office job. Alone, away from everything you know. I’m here. I love you, and I’m certain about that.” Your stomach sank at his words, filled with dread knowing that he didn’t believe in you.

“You may be, but I’m not.” You scoffed. “If you love me, you’d support me. You know how bad I want this. You’re not being fair.” You waited for a moment, hoping he’d say something else. When you were met with another staggering silence, you stumbled away from him with your heart in your stomach and your head in your hands. You left your house key on the bed before walking away forever.

That was the last time you spoke to him. A few days after that, you got on a plane to New York and spent months trying to rid yourself of his memory. Now, over a year later, every essence of your being was still plagued with Josh Kiszka. You never got over him, you never moved on, and you never stopped thinking of him. He was the love of your life; the type of love that overshadowed any other emotion you could ever experience. Sure, you hated him, too, and a part of you hoped you’d never see him again, but there was a bigger part of you that longed for one more hug, or even just another smile. He was one of a kind, and nobody held a candle to him. He never texted, he never called, or even so much as liked a social media post. Sometimes, you wondered if you’d spend the rest of your life yearning for someone who barely remembered you existed.

As much as you still loved him, the hurt you held in your chest was debilitating. He let you walk out the door, no hint of hesitation. It killed you, because you’d spent years cheering him and his brothers on while they lived their dream, but he wasn’t willing to reciprocate for you. You hoped he would change his mind, but the only thing you’d received in your year away was radio silence. There was no solid proof that you ever existed to him aside from memory, and that’s what hurt you the most. You watched his life through pictures, his face gracing your phone screen with new press releases and album announcements, sending you spiralling down the Kiszka rabbit hole even further. You listened to their music every now and then, even watched a few interviews, just to remind yourself of what his voice sounded like. You were well aware that their new album was bound to release within the next few months. It served as another reminder of how great his life was going without you in it.

You hadn’t done too bad for yourself, either. The move to New York stemmed from a submission to be considered for a spot in New York Fashion Week. You’d applied as a model for the event, with slim expectations for a response. When they responded to your headshots, it kickstarted the fire in you to follow your passion. Once you arrived, you modelled and found that taste of life you’d been longing for so badly. You had the opportunity to meet big names you had been dreaming of meeting your whole life, and somehow even managed to pick up a mentor to help you achieve your biggest dream: design. After a few months of solely shadowing her, then a year of sleepless nights and some blood, sweat, and tears, you were finally set to release your own line of designer clothing. Of course, it was partnered with your mentor company, but it still adorned your name.

Most of your presale items were already sold out, giving you an overwhelming sense of pride. Big celebrities were in line to own your clothing, eager enough to buy it that they were ordering months ahead. As much as it hurt leaving everything behind when you moved to New York, your life was more than you ever could have imagined it, now. Still, with all of the financial success, a part of you still felt like it was missing. Somewhere amidst all of the fame, you realized that you may have given up a bit too much to get where you were. You tried not to focus on it, knowing that dwelling on the past would only limit you from the future. If Josh Kiszka was meant to be yours, he would be. If not, life would go on. You had to understand that, because if you believed anything else, you were sure it would kill you.

The crowd began to filter away in front of you, letting you know the doors to the event were opening. The cameras outside were still flashing, meaning guests were still arriving. You were thankful you had a room booked upstairs so you could avoid the paparazzi. As much as you loved your work, the galas and celebrations could be a bit much by times. You almost preferred the quietness of the design room over the runway, now. At first, the pictures and cheers and magazine covers were a thrill. They’d begun to lose their novelty almost as soon as it started, just the same as the parties. When your boss handed you a plane ticket a few days prior, you questioned why you were heading to Nashville. She’d wasted no time in telling you about the Gala you would be not only attending, but speaking at. Your stomach was sick at the idea. Some of it was due to the public speaking, but more so because Nashville was the last place you wanted to be. But, part of the job was to keep up appearances, so you had no choice but to oblige.

The question of Nashville in specific brought up a whole world of information. Apparently, the success of your line of clothing had caused some speculation of expansion. That morning, the company announced your own outlet store opening in your hometown. They thought it as a gift to you, but it was more of a nightmare. That meant a lot more time in Nashville, even permanently, for a while. Also, more appearances, and more of a chance to run into the boy you’d rather run away from. Still, your appreciation of the gesture was unmatched; knowing they had faith in you to have your own outlets meant more than anything in the world. You felt like the success you’d been searching for had finally rewarded you. So, you hopped on a plane and threw on your best dress. You left your hotel room with big smiles and the determination to forget any uncertainty. Still, you were well aware that a gala in Nashville would indisputably include musicians. That meant there was a larger chance of seeing Josh than you were particularly comfortable with.

You followed the sea of people into the large room, noticing it was decorated in hints of golds and silvers, really showcasing elegance. The stage was lit up with low lights, hinting towards the anticipated guest speakers. Soft music flowed through the sound system, enveloping you in a warm embrace. Music was the best way to drown out the other noise, and in your life, there was always noise. “You know, there’s more to life than caviar and blow.” You looked to your side, focusing on your company for the night. You laughed at her comment once you’d processed what she said. “I don’t think many people here know that.”

“It’s a tale of the rich, Liz. Most of these people were born on a bed of gold plated fish eggs and were shoved straight into generational drug addiction.” You smirked, eyes scanning the crowd. You knew your parents weren’t poor, but they were far from the families some of these people were born into. They had good reputations in the community, but not across the world. You weren’t impoverished, but would never have fathomed this type of money as a kid. As much as they cared about appearance, they were good parents. They raised you with love and strong morals, and you weren’t a stranger to struggle. They didn’t pay your way through life. What you got came from what you earned.

“Can you even imagine growing up this way? First birthdays spent at the Met Gala and graduation parties thrown in Venice?” She chuckled, but disbelief was present in her tone. Liz was a university student you’d hand picked to hire after her graduation. She doubled as an assistant and one of your models, but she was more than that. Over the months, she’d slowly turned into your best friend. She wasn’t much younger than you, only by about three years. Her resume caught your eye faster than any other, and you’d called her almost instantly. She just wanted experience in the fashion world, but you were certain that if things went smooth over the next few months, you’d ensure she’d be given her shares in the company. She worked extremely hard, had fantastic insight, along with being bright, kind, and hilarious. She kept you on your toes and brought you back to reality when you needed it.

“I suppose if you don’t know anything else, it’s completely normal.” You theorized. “I don’t ever want my kids to grow up that way. I don’t want them to be scared of playing outside and getting dirty. I don’t want money to be their main concern. And, if I had to suffer through the American public school system, they will too.” You laughed. She joined in, agreeing completely. You turned your head towards her, noticing the material of her dress was misplaced around her shoulders. “Mm, hold on,” you said, reaching over to her. She faced you, already knowing what the look on your face meant. You straightened it out, taking a small step back to double check. “There. Can’t have you in disarray, darling. Sure way to get us kicked out.” She grinned, picking up on your joking tone immediately.

“You just want your designer dresses to look perfect.”

“I’m nothing if not vain.” You both shared another laugh. You noticed a photographer making his way around the room through the corner of your eye. “Lipstick check.” You said, panicked. You flashed her your teeth.

“You’re good.” She repeated the action back to you.

“You, too.” You let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Can’t wait to get the pictures and introductions over with so we can start drinking.”

“You don’t need any generational alcoholism; you got that all by yourself.” She chided. You chuckled, eyes searching for a server with champagne. That was one thing that was always for certain; no matter how mind-numbing the gala’s were, there was always high-end alcohol floating around somewhere.

“It’s not all pretty patterns and cross stitching, you know. Have to drown the demons somehow.” Your conversation was cut short by a camera being shoved in your faces. You gave your best public smile, the kind where your lips were upturned but you looked a little dead behind the eyes. Somehow in the celebrity world, that equated to elegance. You posed with Liz, giving the camera a bit of a show. Eventually, you broke and gave a real smile, but only for a moment. Once the photographer moved away, you relaxed your posture, feeling a bit more human.

“Does fame always entail looking soulless?”

“Yeah, pretty much. You’ll get used to it.” You mumbled, eyes falling to the table that was overflowing with food. Your eyes lit up at the sight of self-serve champagne flutes. You grabbed Liz’s hand, bringing her along with you as you advanced towards it. You picked up a glass, immediately taking a large gulp out of it. The nude colour of your lipstick stained the rim, claiming it as your own. Liz grabbed one too, also indulging in the bubbly liquid. “You don’t have to look soulless all of the time. Just when you’re posing, or on the walk, or if you’re walking down the street, or at the supermarket.” You listed, humour radiating from you. “Interviews give you the chance to show a little bit of life. Takes the world as a shock, you know, when they realize you actually have a personality.” You continued the earlier conversation.

“That seems a bit odd, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. But it’s what I was taught.” You gave a shrug. “I think people find power attractive, and that’s kind of what you encase in pictures when you look like that. At least that’s what I picked up from it.”

“Makes sense, I guess. Also makes the interviews more memorable, too. People cling to the emotion ‘cause they feel like they finally get to know some part of you. Feel connected, even.”

“Exactly, sweetheart. See? You’re gonna have my job in no time.”

“Oh, don’t say that, you’ve got at least two more good years before people get bored of you.” You couldn’t help the cackle that fell from your lips, finding the statement hilarious mostly because of its truth. The spotlight only shines for so long before it’s begging to move on. “I don’t want your job. I’d like to work with you forever, I think.” She picked up an appetizer from the table, eyeing it suspiciously before popping it in her mouth.

“Don’t you think I’d be more fun when I go batshit crazy because I don’t know what to do with myself after the fame?”

“No, because I’d have to take care of you.” She said without missing a beat. “I know the rest of the ass-kissers at the office won’t. They just want their five minutes of fame. They don’t give a shit about you.” You hummed an agreement, knowing she was speaking the truth. True connection in the world of money and power was rare, and she was the only person you’d ever felt it with aside from your own mentor. It was a constant struggle of use people or get used, and it was exhausting. As much passion as you had for your work, you were always the first to admit that the industry was ruthless.

“Yeah, sometimes I feel like Julius Caesar walking in there. Waiting for the day they all get together and stab me.” You took another sip from your glass.

“Well, they’ll probably stab me, too. At least we can go to hell, together.” You raised your glass as a cheers to the statement. She gently clicked her glass against yours in response. “Jokes aside, you are a good boss. They all have great things to say about you, so you don’t have to worry about planned assassination, yet.”

“Fantastic news. I’ve been preparing for it for weeks, now.” You smiled. Just as you finished speaking, the lights dimmed a little further. You paid no mind to it, assuming it was just a cue for everyone to gather around in preparation for the first speech. “I want to be a good boss. I don’t want to be the person everybody is scared of. I do what I do because I love it, not for the money. If I can make people fall in love with it, too, then I know I did something worthwhile. That’s the end goal.” You drained the last of your beverage, placing your glass on the tray to be taken away. You immediately went for another, needing the liquid courage for when the stage was yours.

“You do a good job. That office is full of inspiration. I never felt out of place, even when I had no experience. Made me feel like I was meant to be there, rather than just meant to work for you.” You let a smile out, one laced with genuineness.

“Cause you are, Liz. I didn’t hire you because i thought you’d stroke my ego. I hired you because I knew you’d challenge me. There’s no pride in getting your way all of the time. We all need a little criticism to thrive.”

“It’s insane, y/n. I remember being in my grad year and hearing about the new model catching the attention of everyone at Fashion Week. Less than a year later, you were working with one of the biggest designers in America, and starting your own brand. You made the industry your bitch, and when you hired me I was terrified of you. I thought anyone who climbed the ladder that fast had to be evil. But you’re just a person. My friend, even. You respect everyone, from the big bosses to the janitors. It’s very admirable.”

“Don’t stroke my ego, I just told you that’s not why I hired you.” You chuckled. “I was the same as everyone else, too. I didn’t come from money, I had to do the dirty work, I got my heart broken, and knocked down a few times, too. I can recognize what I have now had a lot to do with luck, even if I do have the talent. That’s just the way the industry works. But, everyone plays a part in success, even if you’re the one changing the garbages, signing the legal documents, or have your name sewn into the tag.” She watched you in admiration as you spoke, almost shaking her head in disbelief. Despite the tiny age gap, she always felt like she could get the wisdom she craved from you. She looked up to you, even when you told her not to. In your eyes, you and her were the same. You wished she’d start to see it that way, too. “You’ll realize I’m just me when I get up there and stumble over all of my words.” You chuckled.

“You’ll look hot while you do it, though.” She gave you a nudge with your elbow. You laughed, feeling redness rise to your cheeks.

“You think so?” You appreciated the compliment more than she realized. Deep down, you were hoping to look good, just in case Josh happened to be floating around the event.

“Oh, yeah. That dress was the right choice.” You both fell into a silence, meticulously people watching. By the time the first speech was over with, you were buzzing with nervousness for your turn on the stage. You realized just how many people were there as you observed the crowed, understanding that if you messed up, you’d be the laughing stock of the event. Liz picked up on your anxiety, soothing you with small jokes and comments intermittently. It was helping slightly, knowing that you weren’t there alone, at least.

You’d done a lot of behind the scenes work over the last year. You did a few shows, not minding the camera in your face because you didn’t have to say anything. There was no worry of stutters or misplaced rambling. Only recently had you started speaking publicly, beginning with interviews and press conferences. Now, they were integrating you into a spokesperson. As your mentor told you, your work is nothing without publicity. You needed to create the illusion of connection, make people believe they know you, make them feel appreciated. That was the key to success. You spoke at a few gala’s, but this was the largest one to date with some of the most popular faces. The alcohol was giving you a bit of a sense of confidence, and whether it was fake or not didn’t matter; you had it, and you were going to use it.

A hand on your shoulder sent a jolt of shock through you, as it was unfamiliar, yet strangely comforting. Somewhere in your soul, you recognized it without even having to look at the face. “I always told you green was your colour, sunshine.” The tone, the dialect, formulation of the words, even the barely noticeable Michigan accent at the end of the sentence was painstakingly reminiscent for you. Your stomach plummeted, heart pounding against your rib cage as you turned towards the voice. Your gaze connected with his, sending a wave of emotion through you more powerful than most you’d felt before.

“Jake,” you breathed. His lips upturned into a smile, unable to contain his excitement to see you.

“I missed you.” He said, wasting no time pulling you into a hug. As much of a shock as it was to see him, you couldn’t help but melt into the hold. As angry as you were with his brother, Jake had always been your best friend through the years of dating Josh. When your relationship came to an untimely end, so did your friendship. You’d grown estranged from the boy in the same way you had with Josh, and it killed you just the same, too. You spent days deliberating reaching out to him, just to check in, but you didn’t want to overstep boundaries. Instead, you mastered the art of becoming a stranger with him, too.

“You had time to miss me with all of that music you’re making?” You teased, pulling back but not fully letting go of him. Your hand rested on his bicep, hesitant to release him in case he slipped away. “An album and another world tour coming up, I’m surprised you have time to think of anything other than that guitar.”

“Always have time to think about you,” he said, trying to pass it off as a joke. You could see a flicker of hurt cross his eyes, the small emotion feeling like a stab to the chest. “What about you, though? Your own brand and an outlet store here in Nashville?”

“So you keep up to date with me?” You grinned.

“Seems like you do, too.” He chuckled. “I, uh… I’m proud of you, Sunny.” The words settled in your bones like cement, weighing you down. As kind as they were, everything seemed to hurt when it was coming from his mouth. Maybe it was the way he said it, or the way his tone of voice reminded you so much of the boy you forced yourself to stop thinking about. Maybe it was his mannerisms, or the face, because when he turned his head a certain angle, all you could see was Josh. Whatever it was, it hurt, and it hurt achingly bad.

“I’m proud of you guys, too. The single was phenomenal. I always knew you guys were destined for something big. I think I can even see the rock and roll hall of fame in your future.” You smiled.

“One can dream.” He laughed. “I saw you were almost completely sold out of pre-orders. Everybody has been talking about you. It’s crazy.”

“You checked out my website?” You asked, a fizzle of excitement sparking in your chest. He scoffed at the question.

“I think we were the first to put an order in.” He was telling the truth, you could sense the genuine nature of his words just by his eyes. “The men’s line is super cool, by the way.”

“Oh,” you squeaked. “You got something?” Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment.

“Of course we did, y/n. We all got something.” You wanted to press further about his statement of ‘all’, but you pushed the thought away.

“I thought you guys would have forgotten about me by now.” You admitted. A bewildered look flashed across his face.

“Forget you?” He asked, unable to believe you’d ever think that. “Sunny, we think about you almost every day. We talk about you all of the time.” You swallowed hard at the new found information. “I saw your name on the program and I knew I couldn’t let you get away without saying hi, at least. I’ve been looking for you all night. Recognized you as soon as I saw you over here. Could spot you from a mile away. I know… I know things ended pretty poorly, but the love is still there. That’ll never go away.” You almost didn’t know how to answer, wanting to pry more from him, but also not wanting to know at all.

“Is… is Josh here, too?” You finally asked, knowing the answer before he replied.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Is he,” you paused yourself, unsure if the inquiries were pushing a boundary. “okay? I mean, like obviously, but you know.” You rambled, embarrassing yourself slightly.

“He’s Josh.” Jake assured you, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “He misses you. He’s the first to check all of the fashion magazines to see if they’re talking about you. He hasn’t been… quite the same, since everything. He still laughs and drinks and rambles, but he’s a bit more distant, I think.”

“Oh,” you repeated your same proclamation from earlier.

“If you feel up to it, maybe stop and say hello. Even if you don’t talk to him, Sam and Danny would be over the moon to see you.”

“Uh, I don’t know, Jake.” A humourless laugh fell from your lips. “Some things are just better left as is.”

“I don’t think this one is,” he said, eyes boring into you. “It’s completely up to you, sunshine.” He said, smiling warmly to assure you he meant it. Before you could respond, the announcer called out your name; in the height of emotion, you must have missed your introduction. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye, okay?” Jake said, ushering you to the stage. You nodded, downing the last of your champagne before bustling towards the stairs. You were mindful of the skirt of your dress as you walked, fearing you may trip on it and ruin the entrance. Once you had both feet planted safely on the stage, you took to the mic stand.

“Thank you for that kind introduction,” You smiled off to the side of the stage at the host, assuming he had said something kind like he had for the other speakers. Otherwise, you would look a bit like a fool. “It’s fantastic to be here tonight.” You took in a breath, trying not to focus on the crowd staring up at you. “I spent a long time debating on what to say when I got here, tonight. If I’m being completely transparent, I’m still not sure. The boss told me to get up here and tell you about myself, so that’s what I’m going to do.” You started, eyes settling on Liz for some sense of security. You used her as a focal point until your comfortability grew. “It’s intimidating getting on stage and talking about success. Especially when I feel far behind in that department, sometimes. It doesn’t seem to matter how many sales are made, or how many congratulations are spewed; we always seem to be our biggest critic, and I haven’t been able to break that habit, yet. Growing up in Nashville, there was always buzz about the greats and the up and coming stars; this whole city, and state, is full of pride, and for good reason. To think that I can be considered part of it has been mind-blowing. Knowing the support I have from home and all over the world has been incredibly eye opening, and a bit of a confidence boost, too.” You flashed a smile, causing a chorus of laughter from the audience.

“Just over a year ago, I was packing my bags and riddled with anxiety at the thought of jumping on a plane and flying away from everything I’d ever known. Somehow, by the grace of the universe, I’d been selected to participate in New York Fashion Week. When I moved there, there was no true promise of a career, but the publicity certainly seemed like a good place to start. As I flew away from here, all I could hear in my head was a million reasons to turn around and stay home. There was one voice of reason in the swarm of negativity that pushed me to follow my dream, and I’m so thankful I listened to it.” You paused, regaining your breath before you continued on. “When I arrived, I got to meet people I’d been admiring for my entire life; names that I never thought I would get a chance to speak about, let alone speak to them. I walked with pride, even in my ignorance. I had no idea what I was doing, I was just happy to be there. Somehow, in my clumsiness and lack of grace, someone saw potential. I was lucky enough to be graced with a mentor who never gave up on me; one who taught me everything I know. She is my rock, and my mother away from home. I owe every success to her, and I have no shame in saying that.” There was an awe from the crowd, appreciating the sweetness.

“She taught me design, sure, but more so than that, she taught me dedication, pride and the true meaning of hard work.” Another laugh sounded. “After a few months of relentless effort, it started to pay off. A few small companies picked up my designs, using them for miscellaneous projects. But one day, in the dreariness of winter, I was given my most valuable gift; the offer to launch my own line of clothing. Of course, partnered with my parent company, but my own work, with my heart and soul stitched into the seams. I still struggle to believe it’s real.” There was a chorus of cheers at the statement. You gave a smile, rose dusting your cheeks. “In the time from the early stages of production to now, I’ve made incredible memories. There were hard times, lots of tears and challenges, and even a couple nights leaving me with the desire to give up. But I pushed through, persevering only due to the strength that my team gives me every day. Every person I work with played a part in me getting here, and it would be incredibly dishonourable to walk away without thanking them for their hard work, too. I was lucky enough to bring along my assistant, Liz.” You pointed to her in the front row. “She’s been my driving force, my best friend, and my motivation. I have no doubt that she’ll take over for me eventually, or even be bigger than what I am, now. If anyone deserves applause, it’s her.” The crowd gave another round of cheers, causing the younger girl to erupt in a blush, smiling and waving slightly. When the crowd died down, you continued.

“I’m beyond grateful to say the presales for the brand have nearly been sold out already. That is almost unfathomable for me to think about. This morning our company issued an announcement, which I’m sure some have heard by now. After months of relentless efforts, and the dedication from my fantastic colleagues, in addition to launching this new line of clothing, our first outlet will be opening here in Nashville. We thought it only right for my hometown to be the first place to have access to our store. I’m at a loss of words at the moment; I cannot express my gratitude enough.” A round of applause sounded. You couldn’t hold back your grin, looking around the room at all of the beaming faces.

“I want to sincerely thank everyone here for giving me the time to speak. Telling my story still feels very odd, like I shouldn’t have a story to tell. I never expected to be here in my lifetime, let alone at the young age that I am. To be considered a part of Nashville’s pride is an extraordinary feeling, and proof that hard work does pay off. I would be nothing without this city, and to see the love it has for me is a beautiful thing. I also want to say thank you to all of the friends of the past, ones who I don’t necessarily speak with anymore, but I always hold close to me, no matter the distance. There’s a few in the audience tonight, ones who will forever hold a place in my heart. They helped me get here just as much as anyone else.” You gave a soft smile, trying to locate Jake. You caught sight of him, making sure he knew who you were talking about. You ignored the bodies that stood next to him, unsure if you could keep going if you caught Josh’s gaze. “So with that, I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy your night of festivities. The food is fantastic, and so are the drinks. Thank you for allowing me to share my celebrations with you all, and here’s to a hundred more outlet stores across the world.”

As you stepped off the stage, you were finally able to fully catch your breath. The clapping and cheering didn’t fully dissipate until you rejoined Liz by the beverages. “You did fantastic!” She raved, handing you a new glass of champagne.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.” You breathed, fanning yourself with your hand. You grabbed the champagne with your other, wanting to drink away the feeling of standing on stage. “This is so stupid, don’t you think?” You asked her. “A bunch of rich people bragging about how rich they are.”

“That’s only some of them. Others are people who worked hard and want to celebrate the success. That’s where you come in.” She gave you a pat on the shoulder. “Thanks for the mention. Made me feel special.”

“You are special,” you laughed. “Takes a certain type of person to be able to put up with me all day.”

“Mm, you seem pretty widely liked. Who was that guy you were talking to?” She pried. You grimaced at the memory of the interaction.

“Uh, that was ex-boyfriends twin brother.” You explained. Her eyes widened at the knowledge, almost as if she didn’t believe you. You were surprised she didn’t catch on. Well, more surprised that she wasn’t eavesdropping. If you were her, you would be.

“Like ex-boyfriend who broke up with you because you moved to New York?”

“That’s the one.” You nodded. She knew about Josh, but mostly just the basics. She was well aware of the constant internal battle of still loving him and hating his guts. “Jake was my best friend, too, though. Just ‘cause me and Josh ended badly doesn’t mean I don’t love him.” You shrugged.

“So do we hate Josh today, or love him?” She raised an eyebrow.

“To be determined.” You grabbed a napkin off the table and one of the more appetizing looking foods.

“Is he here?” You nodded.

“Whole band is. I’m not surprised. They have an album and a world tour coming up.”

“So you keep tabs on them,” she smirked.

“Yeah, obviously. You wouldn’t?”

“Fair enough.” She conceded. “Are you going to talk to him?”

You didn’t answer, mostly because you weren’t sure yourself. You had no idea if you wanted to talk to him, and no idea if he wanted to talk to you. You weren’t mad at her for being curious. She’d been trying to set you up on dates the entire time she’d known you, but you always turned them down. She only clued in to why after you told her about Josh. You had no interest in dating anyone, mostly because you were certain nobody would ever compare to him. The other part of you was terrified of getting hurt like that again. When Josh let you walk out without as much as a shred of hesitation, it shattered you. He was everything; the one thing in your life you’d ever been 100% certain of. Leaving him behind was gut wrenching, but knowing he didn’t care enough to fight for you was worse. You always believed he loved you enough to not care about the distance; the few tours he’d done while you were dating never proved to be an issue. You had a hard time swallowing the truth that he didn’t mind the distance as long as he wasn’t the one waiting at home.

“I don’t know, Liz.” You sighed. “It’s been a long time. I think it’s better to just let it go.”

“If you still love him this much after all of this time, maybe you shouldn’t.” You placed the flute to your lips, tipping your head back and taking another long drink of champagne.

“You’ll learn soon enough not to listen to your heart all of the time. Brain knows best.” You reminded. “And stop being an instigator, you little shit.” You laughed. She smiled, but her eyes were following something behind you. You furrowed your eyebrows at her sudden disinterest in you, finding it odd.

“Better turn your heart off, then.” She let out a quick mumble of words. She’d recognized him just from the similarities to his brother. There was no mistaking who he was, or who he was intending to talk to.

“What?” You questioned, turning your head to look in the direction of her gaze. As soon as you did, you wished you hadn’t.

Your heart sped, stomach erupting into nervous butterflies. Your palms were sweating and your breath was stuck in your throat. Josh was there, approaching you with intent. He looked different; his hair was fluffier, shaved down on the sides. He had facial hair, too, although not much. He really looked like he’d grown up since the last time you’d seen him. But, if you had to admit it, you did, too. No more kids pretending to be grown ups with too many hopes and dreams; real adults with real professions. Adults that admittedly, had been very stupid. Adults that were still very much hurting over the mistakes their younger selves made. The difference 18 months can make was staggering, you realized.

His confidence faltered once he caught your eyes. He was certain he was going to fall to his knees, weak just from the sight of you in front of him again. As he walked, he debated turning around, pretending he’d never seen you at all. But, he was certain there was a gleam of hope in your eye, and that drove him to keep going. “I’ll catch up with you later,” Liz said, quickly shuffling away to give you a moment of privacy. By the time she was out of sight, he was in front of you. The scent of incense and lingering cologne hit you like a ton of bricks. It was a scent you’d been craving for a long time, unmistakably Josh. Unmistakably home. The both of you stood, unsure of where to start. The emotion was too intense for a simple hello, but the uncertainty limited you both from saying anything else.

You looked over his face, taking in his features, studying him as if you were trying to memorize him all over again. He did look different, his jaw a bit more prominent and overall looked a bit more serious than he used to. Still, under the new facade, he was in there. The Josh you fell in love with was undoubtedly standing in front of you, just rebranded. You realized he couldn’t change enough to take away the type of love you had for him, for it was undying. “Is this the part where we cause a scene and I throw my drink at you?” You asked. The corner of his lips upturned into a smirk.

“If you feel the need to, I suppose I could understand why.” You returned the expression, happy to know that the spark was still there. At least to you, it was.

“How’ve you been, Josh?” You whispered. You were certain a flash of hurt crossed his eyes as the words left your lips. It was one that told you he thought too much of you for such simplistic small-talk. One that screamed rejection at the formalities, especially considering you both knew each other better than anyone else.

“Travelling the world.” He shrugged, but that’s all he gave. “What about you, Sunshine?” The sound of the nickname coming from his lips could have sent you straight to your knees. You had to take a long breath before you could respond, feeling the need to recover from his question.

“Dressing up and pretending I fit in with these people.”

“Pretending?” He challenged. “Could’ve fooled me.” You gave a soft smile. “That speech was phenomenal.”

“Suppose I’ve grown into the part, now.”

“Crazy what a year and a half can do, eh?” You caught his eyes, feeling your heart ache at the sea of brown you’d been missing so much. “Not like anyone was counting, though.” He added, trying to pass it off as a joke, afraid to let the vulnerability through.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “You look good.” You finally said, airing out what you wanted to admit. He chuckled.

“Have you looked in a mirror, lately? Success looks fantastic on you.” He breathed. “I didn’t think you could get any prettier, but you always seem to surprise me.” Your heart fluttered at the compliment.

“You’re all looking quite spectacular, actually. I’d like to meet your stylist. Seems like they really know what they’re doing. The stage outfits are a masterpiece. Maybe I could work with them, if you’re willing to open up a spot for an old friend.” You smiled, a warm one without any dishonest undertones. He let out a small laugh, nodding along to your statement.

“I’m sure we could work something out. We’d all be pretty thrilled to have you on board with us.” A painful moment ensued, one where you clearly picked up on his refrain. He was talking in broadness to avoid letting you know how badly he’d enjoy having you around, again. “Did you maybe want to go somewhere a bit more private?” He asked, breaking the silence you’d fallen into.

“Yeah, that would be alright.” You nodded. “Think I need a few drinks for this conversation, though.” You finished the last of your champagne and grabbed two more flutes. He nodded, appreciating the idea, then grabbed two for himself. He was grateful you hadn’t turned around and walked away. A simple hello was more than he was expecting from the conversation.

He led you in the direction of a side door, opening it and holding it for you. You slipped out, noticing that it revealed a patio area. The night was cool, but clear. The stars twinkled few and far between, and the moon casted a low light over the ground. There were a few tables and chairs places spaciously around the deck, the posts adorned with swirls of string lights. It would have been quite romantic had the mood not been so sullen. He pulled out a chair for you, inviting you to sit down. You did so, placing your glasses on the table. He pulled a chair from the other side of the table towards you. He settled in front of you, a little bit closer than ex’s should sit.

He took a long look at you, drinking in every detail and finding himself intoxicated from it. He’d wished for so long to have you in front of him again that he seemed to forget the effect you had on him. It had only gotten worse with time. He looked to be waiting for you to speak first, so you did. “Why’d you let me go that night?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“I was stupid.” He admitted.

“Yeah,” you nodded, agreeing with him.

“Why’d you leave like that?” He asked, challenging your question. You looked up at him, disbelief clouding your expression.

“You made me choose, Josh.” You reminded him, not willing to take the blame for the situation.

“And you didn’t choose me.” He said, not in an accusatory fashion. Just in a simple sense, as if he was recalling the night as you spoke.

“I didn’t want to choose at all.” You explained. “You were asking me to pick between the two things I wanted most in life. It’s not like I walked into that conversation planning to leave you.”

“You chose a job over me, y/n.” You shot him a look, one that he knew all too well. It would take a lifetime to forget it.

“What if it was the other way around? You know you wouldn’t have picked me over music.” He kept his gaze on you, almost smiling, despite the situation being completely humourless.

“I certainly would have thought about it.” He answered. You could see he meant it, but you weren’t sure if he understood the implications of what he was saying.

“Okay.” You nodded, acknowledging his answer. “Come to New York with me.” You said, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

“What?”

“Come to New York with me.” You repeated, refusing to back down. He didn’t need to know you’d likely be staying in Nashville at least for the foreseeable future. He didn’t need to know your bags were packed at your apartment, waiting for you to return just so you could pick them up. Your homecoming was set in stone, but you needed to see if he realized the extent of his answer.

“Things are different, now, y/n.” He said, dismissing the subject.

“Pretend they’re not.” You urged. “Please.”

“I would fly to see you on the weekends. Stay with you as much as I could. But I couldn’t move there.” He said. You nodded along to his words, begging for him to see the issue in his statement.

“What if that’s not good enough? It’s all or nothing, Josh.” You felt your anger that you’d suppressed for so long begin to surface. “It’s me or the band.” You leaned forward, catching his eyes as he tried to look away from you.

“I get it, okay!” He finally exploded, likely feeling the same way you did. “I know what I did wasn’t right. I’ve spent a year and a half trying to forgive myself for it. But you were so caught up in being mad that you didn’t even stop to think about how I felt!” Rarely did you ever see Josh yell, let alone expel frustration the way he was doing in that moment. You were taken back, but not distracted from your feelings.

“Then tell me!” You pleaded. “You wouldn’t even look at me that night! All you said was you didn’t have anything to say to me, but clearly you do, so say it!”

“Fine, you want to hear it?” He asked, leaning forward, too. “I love, but I don’t fall in love with people. Never have. Thought it was too much commitment for such a short lifetime. I spent my entire life completely fine with never settling down. Then I met you, and you changed everything! I didn’t even get to decide whether I fell in love with you or not. By the time I started to realize how much you meant to me, I was already head over heels. I spent every day of my life, for three years, falling more in love with you every day that passed; I changed my whole outlook because you showed up and made me realize maybe I just hadn’t met the right person, and that’s why I never wanted to commit. We moved in together, and I started picturing this life with you, one where you had my last name and we had a few kids. Then you left. You just came home one day and said you were leaving, as if it weren’t an earth-shattering idea. I was so mad because you changed my entire life, and then you took it away!” You understood better, now. He felt abandoned, and you caused it. He never would have admitted it to you then, and he barely wanted to, now. Still, the idea of him thinking you were going to walk away and forget all about him stung like no other.

“I didn’t leave you, Josh. I left Nashville!” You exclaimed. “I never pictured a life without you, and I still don’t! I sit at my apartment alone and hope that maybe you’ll text me, or call, or show up! But you never did, so I had to learn how to deal with it!”

“It was the same thing, y/n! You left me behind for a whole new life. If we didn’t break up that night, we would have anyway!” You’re recoiled as if he’d burned you. “I didn’t call because you were perfectly fine leaving me here! You jumped on that plane and got to start over, and I got to sleep in a bed that haunted me with your presence!”

“It wasn’t the same, Josh.” You shook your head. “I sat at home in that apartment every day when you were touring the world, watching you live your dream from the sidelines. Watching girls throw themselves at you, always wondering if maybe I’d wake up one day and you’d find someone new. I waited for you, watching your life through a phone screen while I worked my shitty 9-5 and settled for video calls whenever you had time for me. Not once did I make you feel like shit about it. But the minute I get a chance at the life I’ve always dreamed of, it was a choice? One or the other? It wasn’t fucking fair, Josh. How was I supposed to stay after that?”

“You started dating me knowing that was my life! I spent three years with you building one of our own, one that we were used to, and comfortable with, one where we were happy. You came home one day and told me you’re getting on a plane and leaving for god knows how long. There was no discussion, I just had to be okay with it!” He was leaning closer with every word. Your faces were inches apart, both of you radiating with anger and on the defensive.

“Of course you were, Josh! You were my boyfriend! I told you I got invited to model in New York Fashion Week, and you made me feel like I didn’t have it in me, like you were already waiting for me to fail and come crawling back to you! You let me walk out that door like the three years we spent together meant nothing to you. Like you were only okay with being in love with me as long as it benefited you.” Tears were brimming in your eyes, the ache of the pain from that night still as prominent as it was a year prior. “You knew how much it meant to me. It was my biggest dream, one that I thought I would never achieve. I finally had a chance to live the life I always wanted, which still in included you, by the way, but you were too stubborn to understand anything other than your hurt. I would have came home every weekend to see you, called you every night, I would have done anything, because you were my whole world! You were supposed to support me, and you left me! I walked out that night, but you made that decision!” The tears spilled on to your cheeks, finally shed after so long holding them back. In the heat of the moment, at the sight of your hurt, he threw the anger and the fighting to the side. Without hesitation, his arms shot out and pulled you into a hug. You didn’t fight, just held him, too. As upset as you were, you knew that his hold was something you’d been longing for the whole time you were apart. The way he felt wrapped around you made you believe that the world was okay; the comfort was an impenetrable force.

“I never wanted to make you feel that way.” He whispered, holding your head securely in his palm. He used his other one to rub circles on your back. “I will always be your biggest fan, even if we never speak again after tonight. I’m so proud of you, and I can’t stress that enough. I was selfish, and I know that. You did so much for me, you always supported me, and I took it for granted. I was hurt when you left, but I never should have let you leave like that. I should have been there for you, cheering you on the same way you did for me.” He hesitated, but placed a kiss to the top of your head. When you didn’t recoil, he took it as a win. “I’m so sorry, y/n.”

“I am, too.” You said, the tears finally slowing. You pulled back, although quite hesitant in the action. He let you, but didn’t remove his hand from you. Instead, his thumb drifted to your cheek to wipe away the tears that had fallen. “It was never from a lack of love, Josh. When it comes to you, that’s not even a possibility. Breaking up with you was never an idea in my head. The distance didn’t scare me, because I knew I loved you enough to work through anything. When you wanted me to choose, I panicked. I was hurt, and I reacted based on that. I shouldn’t have walked out without fixing things. That was my mistake.”

“No, y/n. I shouldn’t have put you in that position, and I never should have let you leave like that. I was hurting and I was scared, I thought you would leave and forget about me. I didn’t want to lose you, but I ended up losing you, anyway, and I still haven’t recovered. It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” You leaned into his touch, resting your head on his hand.

“Josh, I fell in love with you the day I met you. That never changed. I still walk around New York City, hoping I run into you, praying it won’t be like this forever. Your memory lives in everything I do; I couldn’t forget about you, even if I wanted to. Trust me, I’ve tried.” You laughed. “You’re the love of my life, whether it was only for a period of time or if we still have a chance. Nobody could ever replace you.”

“I never moved out of the apartment. It’s still decorated the same. It still has little reminders of you, everywhere. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them. Jake thinks I’m insane, or I’m torturing myself. I guess I just thought you’d come back for them, someday.” He confessed. “I still love you the same as I did a year ago.”

“Me, too.” You closed your eyes, hoping to hold on to the memory of his words forever. “So we’ve both been waiting for each other to come back this whole time? We’ve just been too stubborn to send a message first?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Both of us watching the others lives through social media, the most impersonal way possible.”

“You looked so happy. I was worried you were happier without me.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes at the statement.

“See? Impersonal. I’ve been miserable, mama.” Your heart soared at the term of endearment. You reached for your champagne glass, taking a sip, careful not to let your eyes leave him.

“Yeah, me too.” You eventually laughed. “We don’t have to be miserable, anymore. Not tonight, at least.” You said, wanting to blame the advance on the alcohol, but knowing deep down that it was wholly untrue.

“Are you saying what I think you are?” He raised an eyebrow. The Josh you knew so well was starting to make an appearance, again. You gave a shrug.

“I have a room upstairs with free room service. King bed, too.” He looked at you with intrigue, wanting to jump at the chance but still being afraid your judgement was clouded. He didn’t want you to regret it in the morning.

“There’s probably still a lot we could get off our chests. Did you want to talk more, first? I just want you to be sure this is what you want.” You stood, drinking the last of the liquid from your glass and moving on to the next.

“Fuck, Josh, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. We can figure it out in the morning. I haven’t had sex in a year and a half, and I’m tired of waiting. I want you.” He took a deep inhale at the words, fighting the urge to take your clothes off right there. He stood, too, grabbing his own champagne glasses. He had no fight left in him, because he wanted you just as bad.

“Lead the way, mama.” For a moment, things felt right. Like no time had passed and you were both the same people as you were before all of the hurt. You turned on your heels, heading back to the door you came through, earlier. He was hot on your trail, not willing to let you leave his sight.

You slipped back inside, noticing the speeches had come to a close and the lights were off. The music was louder and the mood lighting really set the tone for the rest of the night. If you weren’t in such an entanglement, you thought you might enjoy it. But, you were certain that the nights events would top whatever enjoyment the ballroom could give you. You dropped off your empty glasses on the way by, watching Josh discard his, too. You reached out for him, looking back over your shoulder. He tangled his fingers with yours, over the moon at the feeling after so long without it. You guided him to the exit, managing to sneak out without too many curious glances. Liz, however, noticed you as soon as you came back inside. Josh’s brothers did, too. All of them were well aware that it wasn’t over between the two of you, and it never would be. They were waiting for the reunion just as much as the two of you were.

You both ran down the hallway to the elevator, giggles slipping out intermittently. When the doors opened, allowing you inside, Josh jumped at the moment of seclusion. His hand found your waist, pulling you into him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His free hand guided your chin upwards, finally taking the chance to lean down and kiss you. You melted into the feeling, closing your eyes in bliss. It was sweet, no provocative nature present. Just both of you savouring the moment in which you’d been denied of for months. When the ding signified your destination was reached, his wandering hands were reluctant to pull away. Thankfully, your room wasn’t too far away, meaning he wouldn’t have to wait too long to continue.

You keyed into your room, barely getting the door closed before he was back on you. You both kicked off your shoes, leading him further inside before things got too heated. You parted from him to click on the lamp by your bedside. He took the chance to admire you, now. No more residual tension was clouding his vision. “You look stunning, y/n.” You turned to him, a smile on your lips.

“You look pretty good yourself, Joshua.” He approached again, slower and more cautious. He raised his hand to your cheek, brushing away all of the hair obscuring the sight of your face.

“Has it really been that long?” He didn’t need to clarify; you knew what he was asking. You gave a nod, hoping you didn’t have to dive into it too far. In truth, you didn’t want to hear a submission of guilt from him. If he’d been with other people in your time apart, it was his free will, and you couldn’t be upset about it. There was no disloyalty of any kind, but you certainly didn’t want to imagine it.

“I guess it never felt right. Always felt like I was still yours, I think.” You shrugged. He smiled at the words, overjoyed at the profession.

“Me either,” he said, running his thumb over your cheek. “I was always yours, too.” You let out a sigh of relief, almost feeling the need to cry again. The entire night felt so surreal, almost as if you were dreaming.

“God, please tell me this is real life. I don’t want to wake up disappointed.” You pleaded. He chuckled, finding the statement quite cute.

“It’s real, mama. Trust me, I feel the same way.” He leaned down, kissing you once more. Your hand reached for him, landing somewhere on his side. You didn’t care where it landed, only that you were touching him again. “Sounds like we’ve got a lot of time to make up for.” He stated, pulling back just enough to get the words out. A laugh fell from your lips, one that was quiet and still laced with disbelief. “Turn around for me.” You obliged, spinning to face the other direction.

His fingers drifted over your exposed skin, gathering your hair and pushing it to the side. He unzipped your dress, gently brushing the silk straps from your shoulders. He leaned forward pressing his lips to the spots they once graced. You let out a hum of delight, closing your eyes at the sensation. He let you decide whether you wanted to let the fabric fall, and you did. It dropped with as much elegance as it held while you adorned it on your body. He bent down, waiting for you to step away from it. Once you did, he cautiously picked it from the ground, gently laying it over the chair by the bedside. Once it was safely out of the way, he finally turned to look at you again. His breath caught in his throat, completely taken off guard at the sight of you naked before him once again.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered, taking a step towards you. You were standing, completely naked aside from your underwear, at full disposal for whatever he chose to do with you. There was no worry in your body; the minute his hands found you again, you were certain you’d found home, again. After so long wandering through life, gaining success but never really feeling like you belonged, it made sense again. All of the money and the fame was satisfying, but never fulfilling. His touch reminded you of why everybody loved to say money can’t buy happiness. There was no financial value that would ever equate to the feeling of being loved by Josh. If you were put on earth for a purpose, it was to be loved by him, and to love him. Nobody could look at you and see right into your soul the way he could; he knew every part of you without even looking or having to ask. “Lay down, baby.” He insisted.

You allowed him to guide you down on the bed, your head finding home in the nest of pillows. He rid himself of his jacket, and his shirt wasn’t long following. You watching him in awe, not being able to comprehend how one boy could posses so much beauty. It was in everything he did, his words, his actions, his appearance. He was perfect. He slipped out of his pants, climbing in bed with you. He pulled you into his arms, just enjoying the intimacy for a moment. Eventually, you were both stripped naked and tangled in each others limbs. As heated as the journey to your room was, sex was no longer the most pressing thought in your heads. You found yourself lost in chatter, laughing and giggling at stories you’d been longing to tell each other for the last year. In between, there were stolen kisses; some short, and others laced with neediness. No sexual gratification would compare to the emotional connection you started to restore.

Eventually, he found himself laying between your legs, mouth exploring the spots on your neck he was aching to reunite with. Every so often, his teeth or tongue would grace over a sensitive area, pushing a breathy moan from your lips. The sounds were heavenly, ones he thought he’d never get the chance to hear again. “I want you, Josh.” You sighed, finally growing restless after the hours of relentless teasing.

“Tell me what you want, gorgeous.” He hummed against your collarbone.

“You. I don’t care, anything, please.” You sighed, not caring about the desperation. You felt him smile against you, clearly pleased with the state you were in.

“You want me to touch you?” He asked, fingers ghosting over your rib cage, sending a jolt of electricity through.

“Please,” he brought the pad of his thumb to your nipple, brushing it over you. He watched as you drew in a shaky breath. If there was one thing you knew about Josh, it was that he loved viewing sex as a marathon. If you were to let him, he’d go all night, dragging it out as much as possible. Tonight, you couldn’t take it. He could tell how you were feeling without you saying it aloud, not finding it in himself to push you any further. He let his hand drift downwards, shifting his weight onto one side so he had better access to you. He slipped his fingers between your legs, running them through you and getting a feel for your arousal. Your back arched at the feeling, it was familiar yet almost foreign.

“All of this for me, pretty girl?” He asked, running your wetness up to your clit. He slowly rubbed circles, just light enough to allow you to adjust to the feeling. You muttered a curse under your breath, almost having forgotten how acquainted he was with your body. His fingers kept a steady pace, gradually applying more pressure as he continued on. His eyes remained on your face, wishing to engrave your expression into every part of his brain so he could never forget it.

As his hand explored you, his lips did, too. His mouth drifted across your exposed stomach, trailing kisses all over the skin. Eventually, he worked his way up to your breasts, pulling a hardened nipple into his mouth, grazing his teeth and tongue over it, begging for a reaction. When he heard a whine fall from your lips, he closed his eyes in satisfaction. He slipped his finger down towards your entrance, moving his thumb to your clit in place. He pushed his middle and ring finger inside you, starting at an agonizingly slow pace. His thumb brushed over your clit with every pump of his fingers. The sensation was much more intense than you remembered it, maybe because of the depravity of the feeling, or because you missed him so much.

The sex was slow, much slower than it used to be. Both of you wanted to savour the experience as much as you could. But the praise, the words, even the way he worshiped you like you were the most beautiful thing to walk the earth was all the same. Neither of you allowed any of the negativity to change the way you appreciated each other. You’d been with plenty of people before Josh, but never any who loved you in the way he did. Every touch was sacred, filled with love and tenderness, even if the act wasn’t supposed to feel that way. As stupid as you felt about waiting so long for him, you were thankful you did. Nobody could make you feel the way he did. The wait just resulted in the usual pleasure being escalated by a thousand.

“Does that feel good, mama?” He asked, finally pausing his assault on your breasts. He looked up to you, eyelids heavy and lust clouding his pupils.

“So good, Josh.” You sighed, looking down to meet his gaze. He gave you a lazy smile, content at the confirmation.

“Did you miss me?” He questioned, his tone dropping slightly. He curled his fingers upward with the next movement, causing a gasp to fall from you. “Hmm?” He hummed, still waiting for you to answer.

“Missed you so much.” You admitted, eyelids fluttered closed at the pleasure he was causing.

“Think she missed me, too.” He muttered, eyes flowing down towards his hand working into your cunt. You swallowed hard at the words, taken off guard by the cockiness but knowing he was speaking truth. His jaw clenched, clearly pleased with the sight. He was good at putting his pleasure aside to ensure yours, but you knew him well enough to recognize what his expression meant. He’d been depraved of this, too, and the view was driving him insane. “Right?” He asked for clarification, his chest rising at his deep inhale.

“Yeah,” you whispered, a pressure beginning to build in your belly.

“She knows she belongs to me.” He hummed. Your face flushed at the statement, unsure where the possessiveness was coming from. That was something quite new; before, he always acted as though the access to your body was a gift. The simple statement dripped with entitlement, but you didn’t mind. He was right. No matter how much distance between you, or how much time passed, you were his. You didn’t mind the claim in the slightest. In fact, you enjoyed it.

“Fuck, Josh,” you let your head fall back on the pillows, the knot in your stomach tightening more with every second that passed.

“Yeah?” He beamed, knowing exactly what the warning was for. “Look at me, mama. Wanna see that pretty face while you cum.” He pleaded. You were in no state to deny him the request, eyes falling back on him. He was watching you, desperate to see your expression. His movements remained steady, gently coaxing the orgasm from you. Your mouth fell open slightly, a sharp inhale sounding as the pressure peaked and sent you into a down-spiral. You managed his name through the intense wave of moans, eyes squeezed shut and all of your muscles tensed. He rode you through it, whispering notes of encouragement as you were clenched around his hand.

When you relaxed against him, he let out a long breath. The tail end dissolved into a groan, absolutely floored at the sight he had just experienced. “Was that good, baby?” He asked, slowly pulling his fingers from you. You sighed at the loss of contact, still yearning for more.

“So, so good, Josh.” You didn’t mind fuelling his ego, because it was well deserved. At first, you wanted to blame the quickness of your orgasm on the length of time it had been since you had one. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t true. Josh had the ability to make you cum simply by looking at you with enough intent. It had everything to do with him, and you knew nobody else could ever affect you in the same way.

“Can’t believe you had nobody to take care of you for so long,” he let out a disapproving tsk, slowly sinking down further on the bed. “All of those New York boys really missed out.” His soft lips grazed over the inside of your thigh. “A woman like you deserves more than that.” His teeth sunk into the flesh, causing you to jump at the sudden sensation. “What was it, mama? Couldn’t find anyone to fuck you right?” Your jaw clenched at the profanity of his statement. You were well aware that he was only messing with you just for show, so you played into his game.

“Mhm,” you agreed. “Nobody could fuck me like you, Josh.” You told him, lowering your tone. The muscle in his jaw tensed at the confession.

“No?” He asked, lips dangerously close to your heat. “My poor baby.” He sympathized, his facial hair gently tickling the skin of your legs. “I’ll always treat you right, honey.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, agreeing with him.

“Y’know I’ll give you whatever you want, whenever you want it. Always fuck you like you just how you like it.” The teasing was torturous; you needed him more than you needed water. It wasn’t a desire, it was necessary for survival.

“I know you will, baby.” You breathed, your sultry tone quickly dissolving into whiny.

“That’s why you’ll always come home to me, right?” He asked, dipping his head even closer to your cunt. “You know who you belong to, beautiful.” You gave a nod of desperation. “Wanna hear you say it, mama.”

“You, Josh. I’m all yours. Only yours.” You promised. A smile graced his face.

“Sounds so pretty when you say it like that.” He was trying not to sound needy himself; his mouth was practically watering at the sight before him. He almost felt wrong teasing you in such a way, because he was certain he was more desperate for you than he’d ever been. “I’d treat you better than that. I’d fuck you every day if I could, just to make sure you know what you deserve. Just to make sure you were happy.” He explained, feeling his guilt resurface. You felt your heart ache at the statement, the words reminding you that as good as you felt, things weren’t the same as they used to be. He saw the emotion flash across your face, realizing how his statement may have come off in a context he didn’t intend. “I can, and I will, if you’ll let me.” He let down the act for a moment, fully letting you see into his heart.

“Yeah,” you managed to muster out. “I’d like that.” He couldn’t hold back the look of happiness that forced its way onto his face.

“Be mine again, baby. Promise I’ll make up for everything. I’ll never let you get away again.” He whispered, but he was pleading with you. There was no way he could walk away from you after this. It would kill him.

“Okay,” you agreed, no hesitation present. It wasn’t the alcohol, or the sex talking. You wanted him, and you were certain of that before you’d even spoken to him. Maybe everybody else was right, you thought. This wasn’t one of those things that you couldn’t walk away from. If you did, you’d be 80 years old and still wondering what it would be like to love him again. When it came to Josh, it was never over. Just a wrong turn that ultimately led you back to the same destination.

He let the thought settle in his soul; no more yearning for someone he wasn’t sure he would ever have again. The universe had granted him another chance, and he’d be damned if he took it for granted a second time. You were his again, and he was yours, as if that was ever untrue in the first place. He wasted no more time, slipping his arms under your thighs and pulling you down on his mouth. He let his tongue run through you, savouring the feeling and moaning against you. He was eating you as if he was a starved man offered his first meal in weeks. In his eyes, he was. Being depraved of the home he’d found between your legs was a terrible feeling, and he never wanted to feel it again.

You let a moan out, your hands snaking down to his hair. You noticed the lack of it on the sides, understanding that it would be hard to get used to. Instead of focusing on the difference, you tangled your fingers in the hair still atop his head, losing yourself to the familiarity of his tongue. You couldn’t help but admire him through the waves of pleasure, the way he got enjoyment out of making you feel good, how pretty he looked with his head nestled between your thighs. You noticed the way his hips would grind into the mattress, just enough to give him a bit of relief, or the way he was completely lost in you, not having a notice for anything other that what was in front of him. You had no doubt he would stay there forever, if you let him.

He pulled back for a moment, just to catch another look of your face. “Taste so good, baby. Even better than I remember.” He slipped his thumb in place of his tongue, just so he didn’t lose the progress he was making. “Missed having you like this. Thought about it every fucking night.”

“I thought about it too, all of the time.” You sighed, mesmerized by the emotion he adorned in his eyes. He returned his other fingers to you, pumping them in time with his thumb for a moment. He studied you for a while before he returned to work with his mouth. The combined feeling of him pumping his fingers into you, and his tongue focused on your clit was overwhelming.

You were nearing a second orgasm, desperate for him to keep going. He could sense it in your breathing, the tugs at his hair, and the profanities you were expelling every so often. He remained steady, curling his fingers every so often in attempt to find the spot inside you he knew so well. He hit a particularly sensitive spot, causing your hips to buck forward. He didn’t have to say it aloud for you to know he enjoyed it; a groan produced from deep in his chest, his fingers attempting to get the same reaction from you again. You closed your eyes, unable to focus on anything other than the knot tightening in your belly.

“Josh,” you breathed, a verbal warning that you were close. He hummed against you, encouraging you. Your head fell back, blissfully unaware of anything other than the feeling of his tongue. Soon after, you were coming undone again, crying his name and quickly dissolving into a mess. He coaxed you through it, more dedicated to making you feel good rather than getting the satisfaction of seeing your face.

When you came down, he didn’t ease up; his tongue was still determined, fingers never slowing. Even in the burning oversensitivity, you couldn’t help but still enjoy the moment. You were certain that after 18 long months, he could cause you nothing but physical pain and you’d still enjoy it, just because he was the one doing it. Part of you wished he never had to stop, because you never wanted to come down from the high of the intimacy. The overpowering sensation was driving you insane, the previous orgasm never really having a chance to dissipate before the next began to bloom. The noises you were making were filthy, pornographic, almost. Josh was almost praying the walls were thinner than they appeared, cocky enough to know how good he was making you feel and egotistical enough to want everyone to know it.

When your third orgasm was begging you to let go, you couldn’t even get the words out to warn him. Your knuckles were white against the hold on his hair, all of your muscles rigid and lungs aching for a full breath. It took little time for you to reach your peak, panting heavily and glistening with a thin layer of sweat. This time, he slowed his movements as your body relaxed. He removed his tongue first, followed by his fingers once he knew you were back to earth. “There you go, mama.” He sighed. His lips ghosted over your torso as he inched his way up your body. “That’s all you needed, hmm?” He hummed, sucking a few marks into your collarbone. “Someone to take care of you,” his head nuzzled back into the crook of your neck, mouth exploring the area once again. “Someone who knows how to make you feel good?” His moustache tickled the sensitive skin, causing a tired giggle to fall from you. You could feel him smile against you in response to the sound.

“I want you, Josh.” You said. As fantastic as he was making you feel, your patience was non-existent. It had been too long since you’d had him, and you didn’t feel willing to wait any longer. He lifted his head from your neck, eyes scanning your face for a moment. His lips upturned into a smirk, likely feeling similar.

“You want me?” He whispered, already shifting between your legs for a better position. You gave him a nod. “How bad, beautiful?”

“So bad, baby. It’s been so long.” You admitted, not willing to challenge him in the slightest. His fingers gently grazed over your hips, a moment of innocent love before such a dirty act. He pulled you towards him, grabbing your legs and guiding them over his shoulders. The excitement brewing in your stomach was barely containable.

“Been so good for me, mama. Won’t make you wait any longer.” He promised. You felt his hand leave you, moving down to guide himself towards your entrance. Without another word, he pushed himself inside you. You both let out a sigh of relief, finally feeling at peace with each other. The battle of experiencing so much pent up love with nowhere to channel it had come to an end; the solution to the issue being clear the whole time, but only now was it truly acknowledged. You needed each other, and no distance would change that. There was no separation or heartbreak big enough to rid yourselves of the connection you had. You both knew that before the night dissolved into the current situation, but it was only solidified further once you both felt what it was like to be reunited in such a way. There was no way you could walk away from each other again.

His hips moved slowly, the only motive being the need to feel the closeness. The movements were barely stimulating, but more than pleasurable to you both. “God, y/n.” He hissed, sucking in a long breath through his teeth. He pulled you closer to him by your thighs, thrusting as he did so and causing a gasp from you. “Feel so fucking good.” He picked up the pace, realizing he was only torturing you both. The memory of him inside you was nothing in comparison to the real thing. The angle allowed the tip of his cock to brush your cervix, sending a jolt of electricity through you each time. “Wish I could have you like this forever.”

“Me, too.” You groaned, your hand reaching out in desperation for his. He met your gesture, pulling your hand into his and resting them on your thigh. His eyes were closed, intently focusing on his movements, making sure he kept a steady rhythm. The low light of the lamp was casted over his face, allowing you to really admire his beauty. The slight furrow of his eyebrows, the tension in his jaw as he fucked into you, his lips that always looked so soft and inviting. He was a masterpiece, and you felt lucky to even be able to experience him in such a way. His free hand found your breast, at first just a gentle acknowledgment, but then he took your nipple between his fingers and applied a bit of pressure. The shock lit up your face, causing him to give you a small smirk. As much as he loved to please you, he loved to be an asshole, too.

It was all in the nature of the relationship; the time that passed didn’t change the dynamic. You both still seemed to be on the same wavelength, remembering what the other liked, incorporating small humorous expressions and actions to lighten the intensity. You were grateful that he was still so familiar to you. It took the nervousness away, and made sex feel lighthearted and carefree. There was never a worry of embarrassment or fear of judgement. He was your best friend, still, after everything, and he was making sure you knew that. The same goofy, sweet boy from the beginning.

You could tell he was growing bored with the position. As much as he loved the feeling, you knew what he wanted, and you were fully willing to give it to him. “Lay down,” you told him. His eyes connected with yours, an unspoken question of certainty. You gave a nod, and he didn’t wasn’t any time pulling out of you. He collapsed onto the bed beside you, turning towards you and practically pulling you on top of him. He had a grin plastered across his face, cheeks a bit rosy and eyelids heavy.

“You know me so well.” He said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

“You act like you’re the only one who enjoys this position.” You rolled your eyes.

“I know you do, but I really like it.” His excitement was clear in his face. You couldn’t help but smile, too.

“Yeah, ‘cause you don’t have to do any work.” You joked, securing your legs on either side of him. You lifted yourself up, reaching down to guide him back into you.

“No, ‘cause you look so pretty on top of me.” He answered, tone of voice matching yours. His hands found your hips, slowly bringing you down on him. “I’d be happy to do the work as long as I get to see you like this.” You couldn’t find the words to reply, already lost in the new position, revelling in the angle and depth he was reaching inside you. You began to roll your hips on him, slowly catching up to speed. “Oh, and because I can do this, now.” He reached around, pinching your ass between his index finger and his thumb. Your eyes widened, giving him a look of bewilderment. He gave a chuckle, keeping his hand there and gently running his thumb over the spot he’d just hurt.

“Not being very nice to someone who’s trying to get you off,” you grumbled. He erupted into a real laugh, giving his head a small shake.

“Don’t have to try very hard, mama. Never did.” He joked, but there was a hint of truth to the statement. “But, I suppose I could be a little nicer. Since you’re being so good to me.” He brought his free hand up to your cheek, brushing the hair from your face. You leaned into his palm, closing your eyes in content. You were still moving your hips, just enough to satisfy the craving while he joked with you. It felt so natural, so familiar. It felt like home.

“You’ll be nice for a while, then you’ll do something to piss me off again. It’s just what you do.” You giggled, remembering his constant antics to get on your nerves. It was intolerable by times, but always in the most loving and sincere way possible.

“You love me.” He stated, in a completely relaxed, natural way. Your breath caught in your throat at the word, surprised that it made an appearance again so soon. He said it as if he’d never stopped saying it in the first place. He finally noticed what he said, expression losing its humour almost instantly. “I hope you do, at least.” He mumbled.

“I do,” you whispered, nodding your head. “I really do.” You were overcome with emotion, swallowing back the tears begging to be shed at the statement. The high intensity of the emotions in the room were unimaginable, and they hadn’t subsided all night. A small smile graced his lips as a laugh filled with relief sounded from him.

“God, it’s been so long since I’ve heard you say that.” He guided your head down, connecting your mouths in a gesture of gratitude. “Too long.” He mumbled against your lips. You pulled back just enough to speak clearly.

“I’ll say it again, if you really want me to.” You grinned.

“Please, baby.” He begged, wanting to hear the actual words.

“I love you,” you breathed, happy to finally be able to tell him again.

“I love you.” He replied, bringing you into another kiss, much more desperate than the last. As he did so, he suddenly seemed to remember where you were and what you were in the middle of. Without breaking away from you, he thrusted upwards with force. The impact caused you to let a moan slip into his mouth, only fuelling him further. You raised your hips slightly, allowing him to move with ease. He took it as an invitation, repeating his earlier action and continuing with a steady pace.

You parted with him, catching your breath. You straightened up, placing a hand on his chest to support your balance as he fucked you. You let out a slur of curses, indirect praise for the work he was doing. You moved your hips in time with his, greedy for more. He dropped his hands back to your waist, fingers gripping at the flesh like he’d gone feral. As much as you liked to tease him, you liked the position just as much as he did. There was something that drove you crazy about him under you, the freedom of his hands in which he used expertly. Plus, the pleasure he got from it fuelled yours, too. You were certain you could spend the rest of your life doing nothing but pleasing him and be happy while doing it.

His hips stuttered and he let out a low groan, the telltale sign he was getting close. It had been a long time for both of you, the stamina barely existing on either part. He held you still, wordlessly telling you to slow down. You fought against the hold, not caring if he came or not. In fact, you were hoping he would. He’d been generous in the orgasm department with you, and you were eager to do the same for him. “Slow down, mama.” He warned.

“It’s okay,” you assured him.

“Don’t want it to be over yet.” He admitted, catching your gaze.

“S’okay, baby.” You repeated. “I have this room all weekend.” He eyed you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, like he was already thinking about the luxury of fucking you again. Like he was making a list of how many places around the room he could have you in. In a split-second decision, his fingers shot to your clit, finding it without any issue.

“Gotta cum with me, then. You know the rules.” He ordered. You have a nod, a hum of pleasure sounding straight from your chest. He stopped your movements, allowing him to set the pace and ensuring his hand didn’t slip from you, either. You locked your hips in place, fully allowing him to do as he pleased with you.

You both knew it wouldn’t take long; the joys of knowing each other so well meant that you knew exactly what to do. He kept his movement steady and consistent, uttering small praise as you allowed him to work at you. The noises falling from your lips graced his ears and settled deep in his chest, begging him to never forget them. “Look at me,” he wanted to sound authoritative, but he was nowhere close to it. Still, you obliged. You caught his eyes, finding yourself lost in them as soon as you did. “Come on, mama. Cum for me.” He begged, both of you knowing he couldn’t last much longer. The intensity grew with each second that passed, your head spinning with pleasure.

“M’gonna,” you moaned, promising to fulfill his request. He let out a groan, the end dissolving into a bit of a growl. The sound alone seemed to be enough to do it for you. “Fuck!” You exclaimed, your climax hitting you hard. You kept a steady hold on his chest, your other hand reaching for his arm for support. He didn’t have the ability to coax you through it; his cock twitched inside you, the sight of you coming undone sending him over the edge. He held you down on him as he spilled his release into you.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned, fingers digging into your hips with a promise of lasting bruises. When he came back down from the high, you were both breathless and seeing stars. He released his grip on you, guiding you down to lay on him. “My beautiful girl,” he sighed, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I missed you so much.” You confessed, focusing on the drum of his heartbeat against his chest.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.” He admitted, letting his fingers run through your hair. He sounded tired, enveloped in comfort and peace. “I thought about you every day. You never left my mind.”

“I’m sorry I left, Josh. I didn’t want to leave you. Especially like that.”

“I know, mama. I’m sorry for trying to make you stay. It wasn’t fair. I should have supported you no matter what.” He gently scratched your head. You closed your eyes, fully immersed in the intimacy. “I promise I’ll never do anything like that again. I was lucky enough to get a second chance, and I want to do it right, this time.”

“Me, too.” You agreed. “I never want to lose you again. It was a horrible year without you. Yeah, I did great stuff, made a name for myself, but it didn’t really mean a whole lot without someone to share the excitement with. Everybody was talking about me, but I had nobody to talk to. It was lonely without my best friend.”

“I know what you mean. Great things happened, I’m proud of what we accomplished, but I just wanted to be able to come home and tell you all about it. Every time I realized I couldn’t, it all just lost its shine.” You smiled at the statement, thinking he worded it perfectly. Life was fine without Josh, survivable in the least, but he made everything shine. He gave everything just a little bit more novelty. It was dull without him. Lacklustre, even. “Was it too soon to say I love you again?” He asked, finally airing out his anxiety.

“I think I was shocked, hearing it again after so long, but I don’t think it was wrong to say it. We never really stopped being in love; all of it was still there, it just had nowhere to go. If anything, I’m happy you still feel that way, too. Made me feel less stupid.” He didn’t respond, but you could practically feel him smiling. “You never moved out of the apartment?” You remembered he had said it earlier, but you wanted to clarify that you’d heard him right.

“No. Never changed it, either. There’s still shampoo bottles in the shower that belong to you, clothes in the closet, our pictures on the wall. I think I always hoped you’d come back home. Wanted you to know it was still yours, if you ever did.” Your heart ached at his words. You’d both been so stupid, suffering for so long that you both forced yourself to believe you’d forgotten about each other. “And it is. I mean, still yours, if you ever want to come back.” His free hand drifted over your back, fingertips gently ticking the exposed skin. “I know you have a career in New York, and I understand if you can’t, or you don’t want to. If you ever do want to, or change your mind, I’d be more than happy.”

“Thank you,” you wanted to express it in the most sincere way possible. The knowledge that he still wanted you there with him was extremely comforting. You didn’t mind the idea, either.

“But, for now, I’m happy to fly out and see you whenever I can. I’ll call every night, just like I should have from the beginning. I’ll never let you think I forgot about you ever again, or that I don’t believe in you, because neither of those are true.” You placed a kiss to his chest, finally feeling ready to tell him the news. You would have, anyway, but knowing he was willing to make it work even if you lived so far away made it impossible not to tell him.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could give me my key back.” You grinned. His lax stature immediately changed, pulling back just so he could look to see if you were joking. “Now that the line is releasing, and the outlet store is opening here, I’m gonna be in Nashville for a while. On and off, sometimes, but here for the foreseeable future, at least.” The look on his face made it seem like you’d just told him he won the lottery. “I was kind of dreading staying in a hotel, or having to hunt for another lonely apartment.”

“Are you serious?” He asked, still catching up to speed.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I’d really like to come home, Josh. If that’s what you want, of course.” You felt that the need to go through the motions of dating again were quite silly, especially since you’d spent most of your adult life with him. The brief pause when you were gone didn’t really mean too much. You’d both changed, but clearly not enough to become anything close to strangers.

“Of course I do!” He wrapped you up in a hug, holding you like he’d never get the chance to, again. You both dissolved into a fit of giggles, excited at the idea of building a life together, again.

“I know you have to tour, and that’s okay. I’ll have to be in New York sometimes, too. I can come visit you, wherever you are. If you get some free time, you can come see me, or we can meet in the middle. I don’t care where that is, because if I’m with you, I’m home.” If it was possible to hold you tighter, he did just that. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he mumbled, words muffled due to his face being buried in your hair. “So much, mama.”

“I do think we should probably get cleaned up, though.” You eased into the idea, realizing the state you were both still in.

“A shower?” He asked, hidden implications written all over the question.

“Sure,” you laughed, sitting upright. “But we should do it, like now.”

You both made your way into the bathroom, getting in the shower and cleaning yourselves off. The night turned into the early hours of the morning, but sleep refused to come to either of you. You were too caught up in the stories, the jokes, and the touches, and the sex to care about anything else. More than anything, you were both just content finally being back in each others company. The sunrise barely put a damper on your night of reunion, because you were too immersed in each other to notice it. Too immersed in the overwhelming feeling of finally being at home after an unexplainably long, tiresome day.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

When the twisted wonderland anime comes out what are the things you hope they do better then what they could do in the game?

To quickly clarify a few things (so new readers and anyone stumbling across this post doesn't get the wrong idea): firstly, we do not yet have any confirmation on what the Twisted Wonderland anime will be about. Secondly, I have previously expressed that I would prefer the TWST anime to be random slice of life rather than another main story adaptation. If we assume that the anime will be another adaptation of the main story, I don't think the anime staff has a ton of liberty in the alterations they can make to the source material. Book 2 is widely known to be the greatest example of Bad Writing in TWST, and it cannot exactly be swept under the rug since it's in the main story. I doubt anyone would be allowed to make massive rewrites to the script or to the series of events; the biggest changes we get are slightly compacted scenes in the manga and the light novel. For example:

Skipping lines that appear in the game. (Ex: in the Book of Heartslabyul, Ace does not joke about sharing a room with Yuuken.)

Combining scenes to save on time. (Ex: In the light novel, Yuuya and Deuce meet Leona for the first time not in the Botanical Garden, which is the case in the game. Instead, the mob student that broke the eggs meant for Ace's apology chestnut tart is a Savanaclaw kid that Leona shows up to reprimand.)

Adding slight details to fill in logical gaps. (Ex: Yuuya in the light novel is granted a NRC uniform by Crowley; the uniform is described to us, the readers. Yuu getting a uniform is never mentioned in the game.)

Continuing from the last point, new details can also serve to flesh out character motivations, backstories, and lore. (Ex: the Heartslabyul light novel informs us that Riddle faces social repercussions for his OB and almost got expelled from school; the Savanaclaw light novel sheds new light on Leona's motivations, and the same can be said of Riddle.)

So basically, the story (again, if the anime does end up following the plot of the main story) would be the same. What would make the anime different from the manga, game, and light novel is largely the medium in which it is presented. I have talked about this at length in a number of older posts, but here is one example of how the manga, uses visual storytelling (as it is primarily a visual medium). A manga chapter is usually limited in length due to it being physically printed and shared in a magazine alongside other manga; there is therefore a constraint on how long-winded it can be, and its limited pages must be used effectively. We need to think about the strengths and the weaknesses of each individual medium and how those strengths and weaknesses affect how it might slightly change how TWST I presented.

An anime is able to incorporate animation with sound in a 20ish minute time slot to tell a tale. It gets the same benefits of the game, but far more freedom of movement. There is, however, also a time constraint to be considered. One complaint TWST often gets is that despite half of its core gameplay (I'm not going to count reading as gameplay) being rhythm games, the music the game has is NOT memorable. While the anime most likely won't have a ton of original songs, I hope that it can at least creatively incorporate some of TWST's scores as background tracks to fun scenes and make them more enjoyable that way. The anime will also be able to... well, be animated!! We won't get just a static screen where a maximum of three characters are crammed onto the screen at once staring back at you. It's okay to have in the game to save on time and budget, but you have to admit it does get boring to look at after a while. But with an anime production, we can get exciting lighting and camera angles that result in cool animation! I hope that this will really help the TWST characters' stories come to life on the screen ^^ One scene in particular that I hope the anime will adapt well is the VDC/SDC performances of RSA and NRC. The game tells us that RSA's performance is clumsy and amateurish, but it still managed to capture people's hearts. The game also tells us that NRC was not able to perform at their maximum capacity because they were already physically worn down from dealing with OB Vil. I want to see these descriptions actually be realized on screen (the Rhythmic/Twistune alone isn't enough), as it could help us better judge and have an enhanced understanding of the situation. I know a lot of fans who, to this very day, still feel that NRC was cheated of the win and shouldn't have lost to such a lackluster performance from RSA, so I'm hoping that a fully animated version might give us more perspective.