#windows 11 low volume fix

[askprobforum]

How Do I Fix Lenovo Laptop Speakers not Working?

Lenovo laptops are known for their reliability and performance, but like any technology, they can encounter issues. One common problem that users may face is Lenovo laptop speakers not working. If you're experiencing this frustrating issue, don't worry. In this comprehensive guide, we will walk you through the steps to diagnose and fix this problem, ensuring you can enjoy high-quality audio on your Lenovo laptop once again.

Lenovo Laptop Speakers Not Working: A Troubleshooting Guide

Common Causes of Speaker Issues

Hardware problems

Audio driver conflicts

Software glitches

Muted or low volume settings

Audio enhancements causing conflicts

In this section, we will delve into the most common reasons why is lenovo laptop sound not working windows 11 . Identifying the root cause is the first step in resolving the issue.

Hardware Problems

If your Lenovo laptop speakers are silent, it's crucial to check the hardware components. Inspect the speaker connections, and ensure they are properly plugged in. Additionally, examine the speakers themselves for any visible damage.

Audio Driver Conflicts

Outdated or incompatible audio drivers can lead to speaker problems. Learn how to update your audio drivers and resolve conflicts to ensure your speakers work seamlessly.

Software Glitches

Software glitches can often cause audio issues. Discover how to troubleshoot and resolve these glitches quickly.

Muted or Low Volume Settings

Sometimes, the solution is as simple as adjusting your laptop's volume settings. Find out how to check and adjust your audio settings to ensure your speakers are not muted or set to a low volume.

Audio Enhancements Causing Conflicts

Explore the impact of audio enhancements on your speaker's functionality and how to disable them to prevent conflicts.

Tips for Preventing Future Speaker Problems

Regularly Update Audio Drivers

Keeping your audio drivers up to date is essential for preventing future speaker issues. Learn how to automate this process to ensure your laptop always has the latest drivers.

Use Reliable Audio Software

Choosing the right audio software can make a significant difference in your laptop's audio performance. We recommend some trusted options for enhancing your audio experience.

Avoid Overloading Speakers

Learn how to avoid overloading your laptop's speakers to prolong their lifespan and maintain audio quality.

FAQs

Q: Why are my Lenovo laptop speakers making crackling noises?

A: Crackling noises can be caused by various factors, including hardware issues, outdated drivers, or software conflicts. Refer to the respective sections in this guide to diagnose and resolve the issue.

Q: Can I replace my Lenovo laptop speakers myself?

A: While it is possible to replace laptop speakers yourself, it's recommended to seek professional assistance to avoid damaging other components.

Q: What should I do if my speakers are still not working after following all the troubleshooting steps?

A: If the problem persists, consider contacting Lenovo customer support or visiting an authorized service center for further assistance.

Q: Are there any software tools to diagnose speaker problems?

A: Yes, there are several diagnostic tools available that can help identify and resolve speaker issues. Check online for reputable software options.

Q: Can a software update fix speaker problems?

A: Yes, software updates often include bug fixes and enhancements that can resolve speaker issues. Ensure your operating system and audio drivers are up to date.

Q: How can I prevent dust and debris from affecting my laptop speakers?

A: To prevent dust and debris from damaging your speakers, regularly clean your laptop's keyboard and vents. Consider using a laptop keyboard cover.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Keeping Me Alive

Chapter 11: Heathens

by @dracusfyre

They made it to the long-term cruise liner parking lot where Tony had staged an SUV for their escape when James stopped and said, “Tracking devices.”

“Shit.” Of course Hydra would have some way of tracking him; he was an expensive tool, after all, not a person. Tony had Jarvis scan him and found two transmitters, one in the metal arm and one in the back of his neck close to the spine. “I can jam them both until we are in a safe place to remove them,” Tony said, “but I can’t get the one out of the arm without tools. And the one in your neck…” Tony trailed off when James pulled a knife out of the sheath on his thigh and held it out.

“Get rid of it.”

Tony wanted to protest but he bit his tongue when he saw the look on James’ face. He would want it out of him as soon as possible as well; he was lucky that Stane hadn’t thought to put one in him too. He climbed laboriously out of his suit and took the knife as James turned around and bent his head. Guess I get to stick a knife in the Winter Soldier after all, Tony thought with a grim smile. Years of working on circuit boards had given him a steady hand, so even though he grimaced as blood welled to the surface when he sliced through James’ skin, he was quick and efficient. “What should we do with it?” Tony asked when it was on his palm, tiny and shaped like a pill capsule. James took it from him and crushed it with his metal hand, letting it fall to the ground before grinding them into the pavement with his boot.

James helped him pack the suit in the back of the SUV and then they both went for the driver’s seat.  “I have the key,” Tony said, pulling it out of his pocket and closing his hand around it when he saw James eyeing it. “Also, you don’t know where we’re going.” 

“If Hydra comes, I should be driving,” James said with a scowl.  

“If Hydra comes, you should be shooting,” Tony countered, and James considered that for a second before going around to the passenger seat. He’d already stashed one of the duffle bags of arms and ammunition that they’d taken from the lab in the floorboard, and as Tony pulled out of the parking lot he began methodically loading all of the rifles and spare magazines. It was a funny thing to find relaxing, but it made him feel safer to think that all of the Soldier’s lethality was on his side for once.

By the time they got onto the 5, the car had fallen into a strained silence, so Tony turned on the radio. The news of his demise had made headlines about an hour into their drive, though the police being interviewed were very careful not to officially declare Tony dead. The radio was the only sound in the car until they were four hours north of LA, when James finally spoke again. “Why?” He asked, his voice low and gruff and barely audible over the radio, even though Tony had the volume low.

Tony, who had been waiting for the question since he first took his helmet off in the lab, glanced over to see James studying him. “Do you recognize me at all?” After a moment of hesitation, James shook his head and Tony turned his eyes back to the road. “You and I have a long history,” Tony said finally. “None of it good. I don’t blame you for it,” Tony added hurriedly when he saw James stiffen. “I mean, I did, but I don’t now, because...Well, the point is, I realized recently that we are – were – both prisoners of Hydra. So I figure that means we have a common enemy, and that we should work together."

"You want me to help you take down Hydra?"

"Well, yeah." Tony glanced back over; James' expression didn't say what he thought of that. "Unless you don't want to, I guess. But we should still stick together until it's safe. I don't know about you, but I'm not going back."

James snorted at that. “So where’re we going?”

“Safe house.” There was silence in the car again as Tony pulled off the next exit to get gas. After he started the pump, he climbed back into the car and opened the center console. It was filled with protein bars, candy, chips, and drinks. “Pick your poison,” Tony said as he grabbed a bottle of water and a candy bar. James eyed Tony and then the stash of snacks before picking out a protein bar and bottle of Gatorade.

“What’s this?” He asked as he eyed the unnaturally blue drink.

“Sugar water, mostly.” Tony chugged his water as James took an experimental sip. “Your file says after you, uh, wake up you need a lot of protein and electrolytes and stuff. So drink up, it’s good for you.”

James grimaced at the taste but drank it steadily like a person that is used to taking medicine. When he was done he started making his way through the stack of protein bars with a grim determination that was almost impressive, if Tony hadn’t started to worry that he should have packed more food for the drive. They weren’t even a quarter of the way to their destination and James had eaten more than half the food. Finally the pump turned off with a thunk, so Tony finished paying and climbed back into the driver’s seat.

“If you've read my file,” James said as they got back onto the highway, “then you know a lot more about me than I know about you.”

“That’s not a high bar,” Tony said with a ghost of a smile. “I know more about you than you know about yourself.” James shot him an unamused look and Tony shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“You said your name was Tony Stark,” James said. He pointed to the radio. “If that’s true, why do the police think you’re dead?”

Tony’s eyebrows climbed. He didn’t realize James had been paying attention to the radio; he’d spent the entire drive so far staring out the window and checking the rearview mirror, presumably looking for Hydra. “Because I want them to think I’m dead,” Tony said. “That way I can be free to do what needs to be done.”

“What did Hydra want you for?”

“I make weapons. Made,” Tony corrected. “Their little pet engineer, cranking out planes and tanks and bombs for them,” he added bitterly, gesturing to the weapons in the bag at James’ feet. “I have also been fixing your arm for the past few years.”

That made James’ eyebrows draw together. “Music,” he said after a long moment. “I remember loud music.”

“Yeah, that was me. You remember that?”

“Hydra doesn’t exactly play me tunes on a regular basis,” James said dryly. “It stood out.”

Tony barked out a surprised laugh and turned the radio away from the news to classic rock. They switched vehicles a few hours later, then again at the border with Oregon. When they finally pulled in to Tony's cabin - one left to him by Ana and Edwin, and significantly renovated over the past month - Tony turned off the car and sagged against the seat. It wasn't until he felt his shoulders and jaw relaxed that he'd realized how tense he'd been the whole drive; he was suddenly acutely aware that he had been awake for almost 24 hours. "Home sweet home," he said unnecessarily as the engine ticked and cooled.

"I'll be the judge of that," James said. He climbed out of the car then proceeded to fit an unlikely number of firearms on his person before he disappeared into the woods. Tony shrugged and started to lug the suit piece by piece into the house, and when he took a moment to fire up the surveillance system he could see James evaluating the perimeter, pausing each time he noticed one of Tony's cameras. "I may not be an expert, but I am paranoid," Tony said to the monitors, then went back to the SUV for another load. By the time he had the suit in the gantry and ready for the next time he needed to put it on, James had finished his patrol and was standing in the middle of the living room. "Does my security meet your standards?" Tony asked as he headed for the freezer. For now, the cabin was stocked with shelf-stable food and the freezer was packed with instant meals, enough that they could avoid leaving for a few weeks as long as they didn't want things like milk or eggs or fresh fruit and vegetables.

"I have some suggestions," James said, following Tony into the kitchen. "Mostly involving explosives."

"Then you must not have checked around the foundation," Tony said. He picked out a frozen pizza and, checking the instructions, turned on the oven. He turned around to see James still standing there, looking uncertain, and he cursed internally. He wasn't used to having someone else in his space; it was going to take a while for him to get used to having a roommate. "Come on, I'll show you around."

James' room was in the top of the house, in a renovated attic space. Tony had picked it because the windows gave it excellent views on all sides of the house, and since James' files said he was a sniper he thought James would appreciate it. But as they stood there, Tony realized he had underestimated how tall James was, because if he stood anywhere other than the middle of the room he would have to duck. He'd also have to sleep diagonally on the queen size bed, but from the way James had gone all still and quiet when he'd looked at the room, Tony thought it might be good enough. There was one bathroom and it was on the ground floor, next to another bedroom. That was supposed to have been Tony's, but when he'd tried to sleep there he had woken up multiple times with panic attacks, feeling exposed and vulnerable, so his room was now in the basement. The basement had started life as a cellar but Tony had expanded it and reinforced it until it could probably now be classified as a bunker instead.  "And this is HQ," Tony said as the lights came on to the main room. He'd moved everything important out of the LA home before he'd sent it into the Pacific, including his computers, JARVIS's servers, and all of the tools and machinery he would need to design and build new suits. What drew James' attention, though, was the murder board that took up one wall of the room. It was pretty sparse at the moment because Tony had only just started to dig through the Hydra files he'd downloaded, but there was Stane, Pierce, and Stern, as well as some of their more prominent hangers-on.

There were also the people that Tony had seen last time he was in the lab with Stane. Tony picked up a marker and put an X on all the faces he remembered. James pointed to one that he'd missed and then Tony hesitated, fidgeting with the marker before he finally said, “I was there the last time they…” Tony blew out a breath, unable to finish his sentence. "With the.."

“The chair,” James finished for him.

“Yeah.  And I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Why? You weren’t one of…” James made an aborted gesture towards his head. “I knew them. I didn’t remember them, but…I knew them.”

“Because I didn’t stop it earlier. I mean, I didn’t know about it, but it was because I didn’t want to know. I was scared and…” Tony swallowed thickly and forced himself to keep going. “Weak. I let Hydra break me down for so long and they didn’t even need the chair to do it.”

“How long?”

“Over twenty years. Since I was sixteen.”

“Sixteen? Christ, you were a child,” James said with disgust. “Where were your parents?”

“Um…” Tony glanced over at him and grimaced. “They died. When I was eighteen.”

“Died?” James caught the look on his face and cursed long and low under his breath. “It was me, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Tony fidgeted with the marker in his hand. “I told them what was happening, and Hydra had them killed.”

“Ah, fuck. When you said we had a bad history you weren’t fucking kidding.” James ran a hand over his mouth and crossed his arms. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Well, it’s not like it was your idea,” Tony started, and then got cut off when James snorted. “What?”

“Look at us idiots, apologizing for shit that was Hydra’s fault,” he said. “I’m sorry Hydra made me pull the trigger on your parents. You’re sorry Hydra tortured and brainwashed me. I hope you got me out because you have a plan to make Hydra sorry I killed your parents and they brainwashed me,” he said, pointing to the murder board.

Tony met his eyes and felt a smile tug on his lips. He pulled out the picture of Ana, Edwin, and Maria from Christmas out of his pocket and propped it up on his desk. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

[samwritesforyou]

Hi!! Just wanted to pop in and say that I love your writing💙 and if you are taking requests? If so, would you please write something about reader being a famous singer and diego is the bodyguard. Reader is kinda infatuated with diego but diego is oblivious, saying that he has to be professional about this new job. I know the prompt is kinda long, sorry about that. But I would love to read something like that🤗

Hii!!! Thank you so much, this means a whole lot to me because I'm kinda going through a tough time and the only thing that keeps me consistently going and feeling creative is just... doing this, writing. so i actually did get heavily inspired by this and thought of a little something! sorry if its not entirely what you had in mind, but that's just what popped into my mind!

On my guard (pt. 1)

part two

Warnings: gender-neutral reader

Wordcount: 2k

You’ve been with your company for a year now. Ever since you signed with them, you weren’t sure what to expect. And honestly, you would never even guess that your passion for singing could lead you this far and you’ve been damn proud of yourself. 

Everything was going well, even the fame was rising - what actually scared the crap out of you, but you were trying to hold it together - so now your manager decided to give you a bodyguard. 

That happened around two months ago, just when you started going around for all kinds of interviews, events and shootings for the magazines.

The company you started working with wasn’t the most popular one, thus their budget wasn’t infinite either. For now, your manager and some bosses above them decided that they’ll try out giving you only one security man. As mentioned already, their budget wasn’t infinite.

And you’d never believe anyone if they would tell you that you would fall for your previously mentioned “guardian”.

You were just on a soundcheck for your ten minutes feature on the upcoming musical event, so you were concentrated on the choreography and keeping your voice steady as you moved around. Suddenly some lights on the podium flickered and turned off. You heard curses from the technical team over on the other side of the spacious room and sighed, realising that this malfunction is giving you a sudden mandatory break from the practice.

Your eyes immediately found their way to his face. Soundchecks were one of the rarest occasions when he didn’t have anything to do - meaning, guarding you - and he always spent it looking at you.

Your music, you guessed. Probably not at you specifically.

Diego... your mind mused and you were already smiling brightly at him. He was so... pretty and caring. Something that goes even beyond his job description, you felt like.

All he did was a faint smirk back with a curt nod of his head.

You sighed and easily jumped off the stage, walking to him until you could stand next to him, back leaning on the barricade behind the two of you.

“How’s it going today, Diego?” you weren’t looking at him now, your gaze focusing on the scene in front of you as some guys started running back and forth, fixing cables and shouting something at each other from the distance.

He shuffled a little next to you, making the space between you bigger now. Diego wasn’t looking your direction either.

“As much as I like these kinds of days, I feel like I’m wasting my time and your money,” you felt his eyes finally stopping for a split second on you, then turning back to its original spot again, “I mean, for the majority of the day there are no people to guard you from,” he spread his hand across the podium before your eyes, demonstrating that there was only staff present.

“Is it that bad?” In your head, the question sounded more jokingly, but the second it left your lips it fell quite heavily between the two of you.

“I mean... no,” he said more quietly, “I just don’t feel professional like this.”

Your face eased with a hint of a smile, swallowing a laugh so you don’t look like you’re making fun of him.

“Diego, how many times am I supposed to tell you that you’re doing your job amazingly? Above average, 11 out of 10 experience,” you said, trying to squish at least some emotion out of him.

This made him chuckle, which you counted as a huge success.

He was obsessed with being professional and good at his job. On one of the long nights in the queue to the interview, he told you that he used to do some work before applying and getting assigned to this, but he’s still new to looking and acting presentable. And he just didn't want to screw this up.

Your relationship, on the other hand, went from professional to friendly quite fast. You realised that you weren’t this friendly even with the staff members that you knew way longer than him. Your chemistry was on point, you guessed.

And you already buzzed to all your close friends that you have a thing for your new bodyguard. But sadly enough, you never had tremendous success in love life and all the people you’ve fallen in love with over the years never liked you back. Or some pretended that they did. And it hurt, but you learned a whole lot from these experiences.

Yet you still found yourself slowly falling for this rare smile of his, his dark eyes focused on you from time to time and this feeling of calmness that he brought to you whenever you were near each other.

“y/n?” You suddenly felt a light tap on the shoulder, hand lingering on your bare skin.

You looked up, meeting Diego’s eyes. You didn’t want to lie to yourself but you were almost certain that there was some kind of tension between the two of you.

He didn’t let go of your shoulder yet - making your heart beat faster suddenly - and nudged with his head towards the stage, raising eyebrows.

“Thinkin’ about something, y/n? They fixed the lighting, you can go back on,” he said, finally letting go of you and you just opened and closed your mouth, no sound coming out.

Then you just nodded, smiling a little before running off to the podium, finishing the rehearsal. 

.

.

“Right now you’re going to go through that exit, alright?” said one of your managers. Voices were buzzing all around you and you felt fucking overwhelmed. “I know, we messed up, y/n, we’re really sorry. But you have to go through the main exit because there’s been some stuff going on in the emergency exit where you were supposed to leave at,” they said hurriedly, shuffling with you through the crowd of people. Your own staff mixed with strangers.

“Okay, okay!” you had to yell in their direction to be heard, “explain to me again, why is this such a huge deal?!”

“Because,” the woman stopped you by the shoulders, looking you dead in the eyes, “you’re famous now. You might not realise it, but if you go out there now, there’s going to be tons of fans waiting for a possible celebrity, alright? I admit, it is a mistake from the management, and you will be compensated, but. It is what it is now, okay? Brace yourself, y/n!” and with that you were left on your own, only with Diego in front of you, pushing through to give you some space to get to the exit.

The concert wasn’t done yet, but your part was finished and you needed to get to a different shooting right away after this.

You were starting to lose the sight of your bodyguard as more and more people were packed in the crowd, making it hard to go through. “Shit,” you cursed and spat on all the policies by grabbing his hand and holding it tightly.

He looked back at you for a split second, making sure it’s you, whom he’s leading right now.

“It’s gonna get messy!” you heard him say, only taking your hand more comfortable into his, grasping tighter.

You felt the heat radiating from your palms clapped together, and even felt his thumb rub over your hand?...

Must’ve been the imagination. And the wild one, at that. You’re for the first time holding your crush’s hand and it had to happen in this rushed and overwhelming scenario. Of course.

But once you made it out of the venue it only got worse. Here, people start recognising you almost instantly. There were no restrictions on personal space and your only shield was Diego.

“Y/n!” “Y/n, you’re so amazing, let’s take a picture!!” “I love you, y/n!” “What, y/n??? I was expecting the other artist to come out of here now! Go away!” 

All types of comments flooded your ears and your heart was pounding in your chest. You felt like you were gonna rip away Diego’s hand from his arm, that’s how much you were clutching it.

You almost made it to the familiar car parked on the side when someone took you by the shoulder from behind, making you slow down and in a surprise your hand slipped from your bodyguard’s, leaving you open to the crowd around you.

There were eyes, mouths, faces, spit, breaths, all kinds of perfumes and smells erupting around you and it was driving you crazy, all you wanted was to get out of there.

“Diego!” you yelled out and the next thing you know he’s already there again, next to you, basically hugging you from behind, his body fully pressed to yours, hands on your hips and he easily turned you two around, making your way once again to the car.

His one hand was up in the air in front of you as some literal shield that people were trying to get through until you made it to the destination.

He almost threw you into the front seat, closing the door behind you and you instantly locked it from the inside, letting out a shaky breath.

Then you heard Diego land on the seat next to you and start the engine.

Once you were on the road through the woods, you looked up out of the window and started crying.

That was too much.

You couldn’t concentrate on anything during your breakdown, only hearing a faint bodyguard’s voice when he called someone as he was driving you straight home.

.

.

“Wasn’t I supposed to have some other photoshoot today? For that.. magazine?” you said quietly, still sitting in the car, not daring to move.

You were parked outside of your place, soft tunes playing on low volume through the radio.

“Yeah, but I called your manager and they said it’s okay to skip it. I explained the situation and they told me that you should rest. Really, y/n,” he already hovered his hand above your thigh - probably wanting to pat it in reassurance - but decided against it, curling his palm into a fist and just putting it back onto his own knee and looking away.

“I don’t wanna be alone tonight,” you just said, watching his whole internal crisis about showing affection and pulling your legs up to your chin, hugging them.

“Do you want me to call someone?” Diego asked, still not looking into your direction.

“Maybe you can stay?..” you said carefully, looking at him.

And not only because of the crush thing. You just... didn’t want to talk to anyone about this and since he was there when it happened, you could possibly find comfort in his presence at the moment.

He finally shifted his eyes, his dark orbs meeting yours. Your look lingered for way longer than it probably should, until he finally spoke up.

“Stay?... Like..” you saw him getting actually flustered about the rest of the sentence, ears reddening and all.

“What are you thinking about?!” you said, laughing and smacking him on the shoulder with your hand, “I just meant.. to stay as a sleepover, you know. Just hanging out. I don’t think I wanna see anyone who might not know what I’m going through,” you added more quietly, slipping into the sad thoughts again, but Diego quickly pulled you out of it once more.

“Oh!” he almost gasped, eagerly nodding and clearing his throat, “sure, I.. yeah. Yeah. I don’t know if it’s professional or not, to just... hang with you like this, but. I think you do need some company,” Diego said, smiling a little bit and getting out of your car.

You got out too, at that, feeling the chill breeze travel around your ankles and making you shiver for a second before you rushed to the entrance.

“Come on!” you said, opening the door and waiting for Diego to catch up. 

“Should we order a pizza or something?” he asked as he walked in, making you laugh again.

This man is definitely gonna cheer you up. And you are also excited to finally get to know your unfortunate crush a little closer.

A/N: also i would love to make it a shorter series, maybe? i already have some plot points that would be cool to write, so let me know if you guys would want that!

[emmyrosee]

Staying.

On The Run II

Part One.

This most certainly isn’t timely; hell, I doubt there’s any interest for this story anymore; but after writing it, scraping it, writing it and scraping it and finally getting it? I don’t care what you guys want, I’m happy 🥰

This certainly isn’t the most fun chapter, but boy HOWDY I was excited when I saw all my dots connect and UGH I’m pumped😂❤️

WARNINGS: verbal fighting, language

Gordan Merkel x Fugitive!Reader; after a series of unfortunate events lands you in East Berlin, you fear almost everyone and everything that lands in your path. And it forces you to cross with a stranger who takes a risk on you.

---------

“I’m sorry it’s nothing fancy.”

You can’t help but find some humorous comfort in the words. Gordan’s small home definitely wasn’t anything fancy. Two bedrooms, one full bathroom with a small half in the hallway. The kitchen was standard, present as soon as you walk past the frame of the front door.

You clutched the blanket around your shoulders tighter as your eyes scan the room thoroughly. Some art work decorated the light brown walls, curtains drawn tight. It wasn’t exactly in the city, a small cel de sac in which houses were spread along the curve. According to Gordan, the lovely people who lived there were more than happy to either assist him or become part of the rebellion, so while hiding you would be mandatory, being heard would only be concerning if they caught your face.

Allegedly.

Woods decorated the backyard and seemed to stretch for miles, and the sun raising was no match for the branches.

It seemed fine, small and sweet as it stays happily in the ground. You most certainly are ready to regrow your clipped wings and sleep on a bed, with lamps and blankets and windows with golden sunlight to peek through them.

That is, until Gordan guides you gently to The Room.

Hidden only by the back of a reclining chair, The Room is a small cubby-like hole, dropping down to a five-foot tall landing. The small opening is a perfect square, and the short stool just under it seems large in comparison to just how little of room there is to spare.

Boxes of liquor and crates of naught magazines take up even more room, and in the corner, a pile of blankets and a single pillow on top of a twin mattress. There’s a small pile of empty water bottles and discarded wrappers of German junk food that litter the already messy hole, and you can barely make out the small lamp and curtain drawn window against the wall.

“It’s not exactly the most spacious or comfortable room,” Gordan sighs, staring in the dark room. “But my rebels, they use the it as well. It’s never failed me before.”

Your eyes fixate on the small space, wondering silently as to how many rebels were in this port before. Gordan smiles, “it’s a lot bigger than it looks. And it’s only for a couple hours a day. When I get back home, assuring everything is shut, I will be able to let you out.”

Your eyes drift over at Gordan, who’s smiling face is focused on the Room. He holds an expression of relief, and while you can’t pinpoint your feelings, a certain calmness washes over you as well.

He seemed to have that effect on people- hell, he was able to ground you after being so skittish for three years. His whole aura was full of protection, and you couldn’t help but relish in this new feeling.

This was going to work.

—

The first few days were fine.

From 6:30 am, to 8:30 pm, Gordan was out at work. When he comes home, he doesn’t talk much about his day, though he pours you both a glass of wine and starts to make dinner before scurrying off to bed. You’re allowed to walk around when he’s home, but when he goes to bed, you’re only allowed three hours to completely get your “freedom” fix.

Television volume can only be one-fourth of the way up, and make sure the stereo is turned all the way down before playing.

Fridge is open to anything, as is the library and shower, and it all just worked.

And just as it started to come together, you could feel it slowly slipping apart.

Gordan had been staying later and later, cooking less and less and being unable to buy more and more groceries. The Room locked from the outside, though he left a lock-picking-Kit in case of any emergencies. The window creates some light, same with the lamp, but they’re so dim, what’s the point.

He’s given you books to read, mainly about Sweden and the culture and language, you assume it’s sorta like a last resort.

But you can only read for so long.

You can only count the marks on your face and deal with the flicking of the lamp, and draw shapes in the water-stains on the window for so long.

More often than not, you just end up sleeping.

Or, sort of sleeping? It’s hard to tell anymore, you think you’re asleep with how dark it is, but sometimes your muscle jerks and you think “hey, that’s never woken me up before” only to the repeat the cycle. Before, the scary shapes your imagination would try to pain through the darkness would scare you. Now they’re you’re friends, and you feel your heart shatter when they leave.

At least when you were on the run, you had endless space... here, you’re not quite sure what you have.

You just know it’s not nearly enough.

You feel you’re homesickness transform from your home and family, to the streets.

Little did Gordan know just how bad you wanted to go back.

———

You’re not quite sure when you dozed back off.

You must’ve as a loud clomp! makes your eyes fly open, only to slowly fall back shut.

Then to fly back open as the sound of thick, heavy boot-steps pound on the floor in front of the room, and after a loud screech of furniture moving, the lock to the door clicks open, head spinning wildly at the noise. Your eyes fall to the dim alarm clock.

11:42.

At night? Had you honestly been left alone for 16 hours? Left to nothing but sleep and count hair follicles on your arms?

There’s an immense, sudden flood of light that clouds your vision, and in the middle of it was Gordan Merkel. The first part of you is washed with relief, it’s just him and not the authorities as he could’ve easily given you away.

The second part of you? Rage.

“My sincerest apologies,” he says immediately, watching cautiously as you crawl out of the room. “I had to stay late, make some adjustments to files and shit. What can I get you? Are you hungry?”

With each excuse and word that Gordan says, your arms tighten over your chest, and tears sting the back of your eyes.

“Please?” He continues, “I’ll make some dinner and-“

“You’re unbelievable!” You shout, storming out of the room. Gordan’s eyes widen as he shushes you, waving his hands to quell your anger.

“I can explain-“

“I am not some fucking dog!” You scream.

“Please do not yell, we can’t stir suspicion-“

“Fuck your suspicion! You cannot leave me for hours on end with no food, no water, a crappy sense of time, what kind of monster are you!”

“There were issues at work I had to resolve,” Gordan says firmly, gripping your biceps. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

“I don’t have to trust you with anything,” you hiss. You flick yourself away in anger, and Gordan pushes the fallen strands of his gelled hair back, his face holding venom so powerful, you feel sick. It sends a chill through you, and as much as you hate him, you know he’s in control.

“People who actually have to stay here, stay quite and keep to themselves. You think I like having to hide a fugitive such as yourself in my house, putting both of us in extreme goddamned danger? Do you not understand the risk I am taking for you?”

You freeze, and your heart stops. Of course you knew what a risk he was taking. Anyone associated with hiding you could be in jail themselves, but was supporting him really worth being treated like an animal?

“Y-yes, Mr Merkel,” you whimper, looking at your feet.

Evidently, yes.

Gordan takes a stride towards you, eyes still firm and authoritative. “I promised you safety, and safety is what I give you. If you are truly unhappy with my methods, you do not have to stay. Make my life safer. One less tally of suspense on my back.”

Your heart stops as if Gordan held the button to make it cease, and he just pressed it. You knew you wanted to stay, it was warmer and more assuring than outside. It was better. Gordan was nice to you, this much you knew for sure. You’d been lying to yourself, the streets were scary, you never wanted to go back.

You shrink back from him, slowly turning on your heel to blink and dab at the tears burning your sleepless, aching eyes.

You hate him. You hate him you hate him you fucking hate him. You hate this control he holds over you. You hate this twisted freedom-hostage situation. Of course you can leave anytime. You know he’s not going to stop you, but you can’t bring yourself to do so.

Against your own will, a tight, nearly silent sob squeaks through your trembling lips, and behind you, you hear Gordan sigh.

“Look at me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“And I don’t want you to cry, look at me.”

Slowly, your shaking frame turns to face him, and as you see his softened, easy face, another sob catches your throat. He crouches to meet your gaze, and when you try to look away, he tips your chin to look at him.

“Listen to me,” he says, low and firm. “I want you to be safe, alright? Your being here makes me feel like I have a control of you being alright. I don’t know what they’ll do to you if those morons find you- what I do know is when you’re here, yes, I might be late, but you’re here. And the plan is just one day closer. Do you understand me?”

You blink up at him and say nothing, a thick, hot tear slipping down your warmed cheek. He wipes it away with his knuckle, clearly unable to see how he hurt you. “But, if I’m going to keep you as safe as I can, I have to make it seem like nothing has changed. If I make anything questionable, rumors will fly. And I cannot lie to my rebels. So,” he gently grips your chin in his hand. “For now, I need you to just trust me, alright?”

Your eyes avoid his, and you gently nod your head in understanding. Gordan sighs and pushes himself up, “as long as the curtains stay closed, feel free to roam.” He rolls up his sleeves and gently walks down the hall, leaving you and your spinning head alone in the darkened living room.

Another weak, pathetic sob rips through you, and with nothing better to do, you climb back into the room, easing the door shut, part of you secretly hoping that Gordan would forget you.

Forget you, your crimes, and everything in between.

------

OTR taglist (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed)❤

@hecohansen31​

@youaremyfamiliar​

@shyvirgoanon​

@kathryn-jane​​

@billofourtime​

@little-grunge-flowerz​

@bethskarsgard​

[nouvidigitalmarketing]

Top 18 Best Free SEO Tools for Beginners in 2021

August 31, 2021

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Top 18 Best Free SEO Tools for Beginners in 2021

August 31, 2021

Blogging,

by Sameh Alhammouri

Best Free SEO Tools for Beginners

Here are the best free SEO tools that help your website articles quickly rank on Google. Every blogger and small business website owners should have to use these SEO tools to increase traffic for their website.

These free Search Engine Optimization tools solve your SEO problem and save your time and money. Are you a beginner and you are not ready to spend money on the premium SEO tool like SEMrush. There are lots of free online SEO tools available for website owners. You can use these free tools to get more organic search traffic for your blog. This post will show you how to use it effectively to bring more visitors from Google search.

Let’s take a look at the top free SEO tools in 2021 list below.

The top best free SEO tools for beginners

1. Ubersuggest

Ubersuggest is one of the best free keyword research tools. If you are using Google Keyword Planner for keyword research, you can try it. You can use Ubersuggest tool for finding related search terms with your main keyword and getting better keyword ideas from competitors’ domain.

Just go ahead to neilpatel.com/Ubersuggest and type your main keyword, for example, digital marketing and then select a country you want to target press enter.

You will get hundreds of long tail keyword ideas with keyword difficulty score and CPC rate so you can easily optimize your articles keywords. If you want to find a competitor google ranking keywords just type your competitor website URL, you will get all keywords they are ranking on Google. You will get all search queries with keyword difficulty score. So this is the best free keyword research tool that help you find low competition keywords rank on Google.

2. SEO by Yoast

Yoast SEO is the best WordPress plugin for both beginners and advanced users. SEO by Yoast suggests on page SEO tips and solutions while you are writing blog post.

If you build your website or blog on the WordPress platform, you can’t ignore SEO by Yoast plugin. Yoast SEO solves your on-page SEO problem before you publish your post. This is a free plugin that comes with all essential features and advanced features like XML sitemap, robot text and more. It’s also available premium version, but free version fulfils all your on-page SEO needs.

It shows the readability score of your article. It is one of the important factors that you should consider when you write a post. The readability analysis uses an algorithm to determine how readable your post is.

It suggests many essential On-page SEO tasks that you have to complete before publishing the post like Focus keyphrase, article word length, internal links, outbound links, Meta description length and many more. If you are using WordPress, Yoast SEO must have a plugin for your site rank on Google and other search engines.

3. Keywords Everywhere

If you want to know keyword volume when you type a word on any search bar, Keywords Everywhere is the tool for you. Keywords Everywhere is a free Chrome extension for free SEO keyword research. This tool will provide keyword search volume more than 15 websites including Google Analytics, Google Search Console, Moz, YouTube, Majestic, Amazon & more.

4. Free On-Page SEO Checker

With sitechecker.pro, you can quickly analyze web pages on page SEO and get free reports to fix problems. The sitechecker provides detailed information for site auditing. You can easily find and eliminate errors in meta tags, images, links.

5. Google Trends

When you are looking to build a sensitive content website, Google Trends is the best free tool for bloggers. Google trends will show you current search popularity on topics you are looking. So that, bloggers can easily identify what types of topic and region they want to target when creating a website article.

Using Google trends is a great way to analyze specific search term current trends how likely people interact with related search over the years. Bloggers and small business owners can easily identify what types of topics and region they want to target when they are creating articles to reach local area or specific country.

6. Answer the public

Are you want to know what questions and queries your consumers have? Answer the public is the powerful tool for business who is looking content marketing. Also, it’s best for beginners to get content ideas for their website. Simply put your search terms on the search box and then the tool will give hundreds of question that people ask on the search engine.

7. Google Search Console

Google Search Console is one of the best free SEO tool for bloggers. If you are beginner to blogging world, you must deep dive into this tool, because it makes your blogging career easier.

You should use Google Search Console to get in-depth search queries ranking position and your site errors. It shows lots of information like click-through rate, the average position of the specific search query, internal and external links, top linking text and sites.

It also shows mobile usability and AMP version of the site errors so you can use this free tool you can improve your ranking on Google search page.

8. PageSpeed Insights

High webpage loading time will affect your site rank on Google. You need to eliminate unnecessary script or reduce image sizes. Google PageSpeed Insights tool gives handful report that what factors impact on your page loading in desktop and mobile devices. You can also check your site on tools like GTmetrix and Pingdom Tools.

Web page speed is one of the search engine ranking factor. Improving page load time will help boost SEO performance. GTMetrix is a great tool to analyze your site page load time. And also, you can use Google page speed tool to check your website page speed on the mobile and desktop.

9. Screaming Frog

You want to find and fix technical SEO issues in minutes. Screaming Frog is a free super technical SEO tool. The Screaming Frog SEO Spider software crawls websites’ links, images, CSS, script, and apps from an SEO perspective. This program is available for Windows PC or Mac computers so you can download for free. When you put a site URL, it crawls a website instantly and finds broken links, server errors, many other essential technical SEO issues.

10. Siteliner

Duplicate content will affect your site rank on Google. Siteliner is the best tool that scans duplicate content and other SEO problems like blocked pages, messed up redirects and broken links on your website.

11. MozBar

MozBar is a free all-in-one SEO toolbar Google Chrome extension. You can get domain authority and page authority metrics for any website on the SERPs. MozBar is one of the best free competitors analyse tools for beginners, so you are able to access and compare link metrics while viewing search results on the Google.

12. Free Backlink Checker

Analysing backlinks is essential because it helps you find a good and bad sites link to your site. Building quality backlink can boost website SEO. There are many free backlink checker tools available that give overall backlinks data for any websites.

13. Google Analytics

Google Analytics is an essential tool that you should integrate with your website. You can easily track your best performing contents, traffic source, adsense earning for each page, geo location of your visitors and other lots of features that you can use for optimizing your site to search engine.

14. Zadroweb.com/SEO-auditor

Zadro SEO Audit Tool provides overall SEO information for your site. It shows Page Authority, Domain Authority, load time, and Google page speed. So you can quickly analyze backlinks and load time issues. It’s gonna give you overall score success, warning and errors. If you see any errors, first you need to fix it in your site.

15. SimilarWeb

SimilarWeb is a free competitor analyze tool, you can get basic data of your site and competitors details with the free version. You can see your site global ranking and country ranking, traffic sources, referral sites detail, top five keywords so lots of detail you can analyze.  

16. Google’s Mobile-Friendly Test

Your site has to get ready for Google’s Mobile-first Indexing. You might have heard that Google recently made a significant change to its algorithm. This change is officially called Mobile-First Indexing. If your website isn’t optimized for mobile devices, you will lose Google rank on the mobile version. your blog will get less mobile traffic.

17. Animalz Revive

Animalz Revive is a free tool that helps you analyzing old content to refresh. This online tool shows you accurately which posts on your blog needed to improve so you can maintain your traffic or get more traffic.

18.Conclusion

So these are the best and essential free SEO tools you should use every day to get rank number one on Google search page. If you are looking best all in one SEO tool to rank one on Google, SEMrush is the very best SEO tool for you, check out the link in the description.

[architectnews]

Four Houses in One, Brno

Four Houses in One, Brno Apartments Project, Czech Residential Architecture, Housing Buildings, Images

Four Houses in One in Brno

11 May 2021

Four Houses in One

Design: Kuba & Pilař architekti

Location: Neumannova Street 578/17, Brno, Czech Republic

The Four Houses in One building is located in a quiet residential Masaryk district, full of quality pre-war functionalist architecture. The volume and spatial solution is based on the character and proportions of the nearest buildings.

Residential complex consists of four blocks of different sizes – apartment buildings – which protrude above the terrain from a common underground base. The set of buildings thus naturally fits into its surroundings. The site with a south-west orientation and an attractive view over the Brno Exhibition Centre to the Kohoutovice forest was the reason for the maximum orientation and the opening of the residential complex into this direction.

The apartment buildings descend along the slope, their height decreases towards the southern tip of the plot. The pair of buildings along Neumannova Street has four floors above the ground and one underground floor, which are connected by a staircase hall with elevators.

Two lower apartment buildings have three and two floors above the ground, and with their smaller volume they follow the size of villas along the lower part of the plot. Between the sidewalk of Neumannova Street and the upper apartment buildings, a semi-private living space with a seating area has been designed.

On the roof of the parking base between the individual buildings is a private courtyard with gardens connected to the apartments. They are separated by low hedges – gabion baskets planted with hornbeams. The set of buildings is built as a combined brick and reinforced concrete structure.

The facades are clad with clinker brick slips. The smooth surfaces of the fixed and sliding panels made of aluminium sheets provide contrast to the structured surface of the brick slips. The floors of common areas inside buildings, stairs and tiling of entrance vestibule are made of cast terrazzo. Ceilings, stairs and elevator shafts were made as structural elements from exposed concrete. The unifying element of the whole building is the concept of greenery, which will stand out more and more over the time.

Materials combined brick and reinforced concrete structure sand lime blocks – walls, partitions composite aluminum sheet – facade panels clinker brick slips – facade wood – window frames aluminum – skylight and entrance door frames steel – railings, entrance gates terrazzo – floors of common areas inside buildings, stairs cladding, vestibule wall cladding exposed concrete – ceilings of common corridors, stairs and some walls gypsum plaster – walls, ceilings

Products and Brands walls, partitions — Kalksandstein\www.kalksandstein.cz composite facade sheet — Albond\www.albond.cz clinker brick slips Kontur 472 — Ströher\www.stroeher.com wooden window frames Europrofile 88 — PKS\www.pksokna.cz skylights and entrance doors — Schüco\www.schueco.com garage door — Hormann\www.hormann.cz elevators — ThyssenKrupp\https://ift.tt/2RO39HC outdoor bench Woody — mmcité\www.mmcite.com door entry system Linea 300 — Bticino\www.bticino.com wooden floor Monopark — Bauwerk\www.bauwerk-parkett.com bathroom tiles Stonework — Marazzi\www.marazzigroup.com switches and wall plugs Asfora — Schneider\www.se.com all sanitary facilities — Laufen Pro\www.laufen.cz all bathroom faucets — Hansa\www.hansa.com radiators Radik Line Vertikal — Korado\www.korado.cz interior downlights Takeo 100, 200 — Neko lighting\www.nekolighting.com lights on loggias and balconies RAY 1.0 — WEVER & DUCRÉ Lighting\www.weverducre.com outdoor light Kube 240 — Simes\www.simes.it outdoor step lights Alfia — Ares\www.aresill.net street lamps Urba S — Thorn Lighting\www.thornlighting.cz

Design: Kuba & Pilař architekti

Studio Kuba & Pilař architekti Author Tomáš Pilař Ladislav Kuba Wojciech Wilczek Jan Kopecký

Project location Neumannova Street 578/17, Brno, Czech Republic GPS: 49.195090N, 16.578045E

Project year 2015-2018 Completion year 2020 Built-up Area 3322 sqm Usable Floor Area 3316 m² apartments Plot size 4036 m² Dimensions volume 23 066 m3 47 apartments

Client Neumann bytový dům Client’s website www.trikaya.cz Project website www.neumanka.cz

About studio Kuba & Pilař architekti is an architectural studio founded by Ladislav Kuba and Tomáš Pilař in 1996. The studio ranks among the most recognised ones in Czech Republic. Their buildings have been awarded several times in Grand Prix of Architects – the most prestigious national award for architects. In 2002, they won the main prize for the Library of the Faculty of Arts, Masaryk University in Brno. Other recognised buildings by the studio include the St. Mary’s Chapel in Jestřebí, Residental Estate Na Krutci in Prague and the Omega Department Store in Brno.

Designed by the studio, the building of the Faculty of Chemistry and Technology, University of Pardubice received the main prize in Grand Prix 2009. The Apartment House at Kostelní Square in Ostrava won the first place of Grand Prix 2011 in the New Building Category. In 2015, the Grand Prix certificate of merit went to the studio for the Iron Curtain Memorial. In 2020, they won the Grand Prix for the design of a family house in the Dyje Valley in Znojmo.

Their latest work include the building of the Faculty of Humanities, Charles University in Prague completed in 2020 and extension of the South Bohemian Scientific Library, which was put in use in April 2021.

The work of Kuba & Pilař architekti has been nominated for the European Union Prize for Contemporary Architecture – Mies van der Rohe Award several times and published in both national

Photographer: BoysPlayNice

Signature Restaurant in Brno images / information received 280417

Location: Brno, Czech Republic, central eastern Europe

Brno Architecture

Contemporary Architecture in Brno

Brno Architecture Designs – chronological list

Brno Architect

Brno Architecture photo from architects

Vila Tugendhat photo © Colin Eaton

Future Cities Forum Conference Brno

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Czech Architect – architectural firm listings on e-architect

Zlin Congress Centre Design: Eva Jiricna Architects image from EJAL Zlin Building

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Comments / photos for Signature Restaurant in Brno Architecture page welcome

The post Four Houses in One, Brno appeared first on e-architect.

[srhlsx]

CHAPTER 12

master | ch. 11 | ch. 13

Some light *light* nsfw

Some days during your elective prep course, the teacher allowed you to leave the classroom to study in an environment you found best. Today was one days and you found yourself deep in the stacks of the Aobajohsai library. It was an expansive space with rows upon rows of books, a maze of hallways, and enough private study rooms for half the student population to each have their own at the same time.

That was where you found yourself, alone, with Iwaizumi.

Your books were open on the table, endless pages of notes scattered across the surface as you tried to figure out just when, or even if, you had learned how to solve a particular equation. You huffed, annoyed, as you flipped over another page in your textbook but came up with no answers.

“Haji?” You said, your volume was low but in the small space it seemed to echo. The boy before you looked up from his own work, eyebrows raised. “Have you done number seven?”

He glanced down to his own work and nodded when he found the answer, “Need help?”

“Ugh, yes.” You groaned, slumping forward slightly in your seat. He laughed and got up, walking around the table to look at what you were working on. 

He leaned over you, arms supporting his weight on either side of your body. His chest pressed slightly into your back, and even through your uniform jacket you could feel the heat radiating off him. You were sure his movements were unintentional, but still...

Your mind seemed to short circuit and suddenly math was the furthest concern you had. He reached out for the pencil in your hand, grasping it and erasing some of the work you had done, pointing out and explaining the mistake you had made but your ears were deaf to the words he was speaking. His breath fanned against your skin and you couldn’t control the shiver that racked your spine and made you flex and straighten your back suddenly.

He noticed the movement, pausing what he was saying and allowing a smirk to cross his lips. He felt you stiffen beneath him. It hadn’t been his intention to get you worked up, the two of you hadn't even mentioned or addressed what had happened weeks ago, but he surely wasn’t going to just pass up the opportunity. You were the only thing that seemed to be on his mind anymore.

Taking a risk, he turned his head and gently buried his face into your neck, pressing a wary kiss against the soft skin testing for a reaction. He got exactly what he had hoped for when you left out a breathy sigh, knowing that while there were no windows in the room there were definitely paper-thin walls and everything could be heard.

You closed your eyes and felt yourself start to let out a needy moan as Iwaizumi trailed a second, third, fourth kiss up your neck, reaching one of his hands up to sweep your hair out of the way as he raked his teeth across a spot that seemed to make all switches in your mind flip. You turned your face towards him and surprised him by capturing his lips with yours. The surprise made him let out the softest yet most sensual sound you’d ever heard from deep in his throat and he reached around to turn your chair so you faced him.

You reached up and grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugged him closer to you, and opened your mouth to kiss him. He easily overpowered you, resting his weight back on his hands on either side of you again, and explored how you tasted at his own free will.

Leaning forward, he shifted a leg to spread yours apart and then lifted it so his knee was pressed under your skirt and right against your underwear. He pressed forward as you moaned, feeling your hips roll slightly to get a little more friction against the pressure you could feel building in your lower stomach. You let out the slightest of whimpers and it spurred something within Iwaizumi, something he’d only ever felt that last time the two of you were in this position but with less clothing between you. He surged forward, sucking at your tongue, ravaging your mouth to savor the taste of you that he craved so badly.

You had begun to lose your breath, gasping heavily when he cradled your face and moved to assault your neck once again, hand tangling and pulling at your hair to open up your neck. At that moment you forgot about everything except the feeling of Iwaizumi Hajime-

Bzz! Bzz!

You gasped and pressed your hands to his chest to push him away. You’d been surprised by the notification on your phone and the pounding of your heart seemed to signal something else within you. Were you scared that someone had caught you? Would that have really been so terrible?

Yes, you thought, it would’ve been awful.

Iwaizumi ran a hand through his already messy hair, fixing his tie as you reached out for your phone and checked the screen. Of all things, it was a message from Oikawa. He was asking if you wanted to get some food before you went to his cousin’s volleyball camp. He had invited you along, stating his little cousin did not believe he had a girlfriend and wanted - no, needed - to prove him wrong even if it was entirely fake.

You responded with a confirmation as you still tried to catch your breath. When you’d locked your phone again, tossing it onto the table with a loud clang, you looked up at Iwaizumi who was staring at you with such intensity you swore you almost wanted to ask him to take you right then and there. If that wasn’t the most whorish thought you’d ever had, you didn’t know what was.

“Um,” You started, unfamiliar with the feeling of embarrassment you had.

“(y/n),” He said, taking in a deep breath as he looked back up at you. His voice didn’t waver and his expression was stern. “I’m not going to be able to stop next time that happens.”

You stayed silent as a thought crossed your mind - next time.

- - - - -

“I’m serious, Tooru.” You turned your phone so the screen was shown to Oikawa. “I’ve never met this girl or even seen her in my life.”

He chuckled after taking a look at the username and avatar picture of the girl who had messaged you over social media. You had posted the picture from when Oikawa and Iwaizumi came to your dance competition, the caption - thankful for my cheering section! - with a few fun emojis for added effect. The amount of likes you got in such a short period of time was alarming, but not as alarming as the messages from one girl in particular you had gotten. They weren’t threatening, per se, but they were obsessive in nature and you had to wonder if the girl needed help.

“That’s why I don’t allow anyone to message me, no matter what.” Oikawa responded, shaking his head.

“Like at all?” You asked, glancing back at the messages before looking up at him nodding his head. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“I’m sorry, (y/n).” He said, the look in his eyes and his tone of voice genuine. “I know this hasn’t exactly been easy on you. Iwa told me about the note a few weeks ago.”

You rolled your eyes and waved him off, tucking your phone away and looping an arm through his. “Like I told Haji,” You said, grinning up at the tall boy next to you. “If I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t have said yes.”

Little did he or Iwaizumi know, there hadn’t been just one note. It had grown over the course of the weeks you’d been in school to almost being a regular occurance. Some of them were from girls who were begging you to break up with Oikawa, some were from boys asking you for the same thing. You read a few of them, finding some humor in the whole situation, others you just threw away without a second glance. The few you took a glance at were sometimes alarming, sometimes malicious in intent, but one thing you could guarantee was that none of them were ever positive. 

You had thought about going to administration and putting in a formal complaint, but you came to believe that would mean they’d upset you - and you weren’t going to let anyone think they’d done that to you. You weren’t going to let the words get to you, but you were starting to understand Oikawa’s views on how utterly bothersome it was.

Oikawa grinned down at you, pulling his arm free and wrapping it around your shoulders instead to pull you in for a sideways hug. “I don’t think I deserve a friend like you,” He mumbled.

“You mean girlfriend, Tooru!” The teasing voice of a young boy came from in front of you. You both looked ahead at the young boy, no older than ten, who was watching the two of you with a snarky grin and a volleyball in his hands. You were walking out of the gym where he had just been practicing at a camp, so the little boy’s face was still flush from laughter and running around.

“Yes, Takeru!” Oikawa said, “I definitely meant girlfriend.”

You rolled your eyes as Oikawa winked at you, laughing until you were cut short by him reaching out a hand to halt your forward movement. You were about to ask him what the fuck he was doing, but stopped yourself when you looked at him. He was gazing forward intensely at a boy who couldn't have been much younger than you, the two were locked in a heated gaze.

You recognized him as the prodigal setter form Karasuno. He was looking at Oikawa, but upon seeing you he started to flush a little bit and his shoulders tensed. You almost wanted to coo at him like a baby, knowing that you made him nervous by just looking at him.

“Tobio!” Oikawa exclaimed, seeming a little alarmed at who he was looking at.

“What are you doing here, Oikawa?” The boy, Tobio, asked. “What about practice?”

“I’m with my nephew and girlfriend,” Oikawa responded smugly. “And we take Mondays off.”

“You take a whole day off?” The boy seemed utterly shocked at the notion, his jaw dropping in surprise. “What a waste!”

“There is a difference, Tobio, between resting and slacking off.” Oikawa spoke sharply. You saw how serious he was not only by his tone, but the glint in his eyes. You reached out and nudged Takeru forward, wanting to avoid this mess altogether. 

You saw that Tobio was wanting to ask a question, but Oikawa childishly turned to follow you. He made a face at Tobio over his shoulder, sticking out his tongue which earned a slap across the head from you. You might not have really been dating him, but you were not going to put up with childish behavior. When Oikawa looked up at you pouting, you motioned for him to give a little attention to the boy bowing before him - literally.

He grumbled under his breath, reaching into his pocket and handing over his phone to you. “What?” You asked bluntly.

“Photographic proof that Tobio bowed before my greatness,” He responded, throwing a peace sign and looking smug as ever.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” You shook your head and held his phone out back to him. 

“Fine!” He pouted. “Meanie. Takeru, you take it!”

You ushered Takeru away from the conversation as it had suddenly turned very serious, very quickly. You tossed around the volleyball he had with him, not very skillfully but doing your best as you both waited. After a few minutes, Oikawa joined you, leaving the other boy to stand in an almost trance. You could see the gears turning in his head and you wondered what all was spoken about.

“Augh!” Oikawa cried out as you all walked along. “Why am I the blurry one in all the pictures?”

[lilwenney]

looking for affection in all the wrong places (iv)

pairing: will x female!reader warning(s): *to the beat of lil jon’s ‘shots’* angst angst angst angst, alcohol, mentions of smut, people are shit at communicating, adrian  word count: 4k a/n: part i, part ii, part iii / playlist can be found here / woah boy. sad times are upon us. i realized while writing this that i need a friend like cleo. 

One night stands were awkward only if you allowed them to be. They were sloppy, rushes of lust filled with twinges of passion in the moment while the following morning were mostly always filled with regret. (Y/N) could count on two hands the times she had shuffled around a dark, foreign bedroom after a one night stand to find her clothes and leave as soon as possible, because well, she was now sober and sticking around until the sun came up in a stranger's room didn’t seem like an ideal way to spend her Saturday morning. 

But the morning after James’ last party with Will next to her in bed was anything but awkward, for reasons completely unknown. She never thought that laying in bed naked with one of her close friends would somehow be... comfortable? Relaxing? She didn’t know what it was. She thought she was still drunk and her shame hadn’t kicked in yet. 

Her and Will laid in bed at 11 a.m. Saturday morning, laughing as they looked at the photos that everyone had sent to the groupchat either the previous night or that morning. There was a photo of George hanging half-way off the back of the sofa, Ciarán had a birthday hat on, Simon had found (and fixed) the inflatable penis and was cuddling it on the bathroom floor, and there were numerous other photos of them dancing, group shots, or general nonsense like cup-stacking and beer pong.

There was never a time that she felt uncomfortable around Will, even right when they first met. They had met and became instant friends all in the same night. Throughout the years he had seen her naked, held her hair back while she threw up in a bush, they had made out now numerous times before, and now they were a notch in each other’s bedposts, but they laughed that morning like friends. 

Now she felt like she was teetering on the borderline of comfort and attraction. Was she just comfortable being around him, even while naked? Or was there an unspoken feeling deep down that she never acted on? Before, the thought of any of this happening wasn’t even a possibility, and now, they were here. And it happened. 

“I need to shower.” She yawned, locking her phone back and placing it on the nightstand. 

Will looked at the time on his phone and nodded, then yawning after her, “me too. You mind if I shower here?” 

“Ah, don’t care. You have clean clothes here from the last time you were over.” 

“When was that?”

“When Gee beat you at Monopoly and you left to stay here for the night.” There was a running theme here - Will was just really bad at board games and he was also a sore loser. 

“She cheated, y’know!” 

She shook her head with a smile, “whatever you say, love.” 

Will kicked his legs out from under the duvet and over the edge of bed, and when he stood up, she saw his butt in full view for the first time. “Oh my god you have a boy butt!” She shouted as he grabbed his briefs from the floor and slid them on. 

He turned around and looked at her with an amused expression, but a scrunched brow. “What are you waffling about?” 

Her bedroom was dark when they stumbled inside, neither of them willing to break away for just a second to flip on a light. Now she caught a glimpse of his behind for the first time and let out a small squeak in laughter. 

“Boy butts are weird Will. You have a long torso and such a little butt.” 

“Little butt?” He asked, shocked. “I have a perfectly plump bottom thank you.” 

She laughed, throwing the covers over her head, “just go take a shower.” 

Will shuffled around, grabbing his clothes so he could leave the room (without scarring Cleo), and he laughed before playfully throwing his jacket on top of (Y/N) as she remained under the covers. She giggled and uncovered her face as he walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. 

A few minutes after Will left, she got out of bed and got into the showering in her adjoining bathroom. Steam filled the tiled room as hot water poured down her back and washed away sweat and body glitter, the scent of berries filling the bathroom and her nose, allowing her to finally relax her tensed muscles and her shoulders. 

Stepping out of the shower door and wrapping herself in a towel, she opened the door to see the bedroom door ajar, so she knew that Will had come back in. She gave it a second, brushing her teeth before calling out; “Hey,” to see if he was actually in the room with her. When he made a noise back, she asked, “do doughnuts sound good to you right now?” 

“Immensely,” 

“Alright, then we’re getting doughnuts.” 

Within just a few minutes of drying her hair, (Y/N) was in a pair of joggers and a jumper, and her and Will were heading down in the lift to her car. Looking at themselves in the mirror of the lift and taking photos, she had a good laugh at Will’s outfit - black joggers and a baby blue jumper, but a pair of her neon yellow socks were shining underneath the cuff of his joggers. He didn’t leave any socks the last time he was over, so he settled for hers instead. When the lift doors opened to the car park and they stepped out, he told her to piss off and they both slipped into her car. 

For the middle of December that year, London’s weather wasn’t all too bad, except for the cold nights and rain that came around far too often. That afternoon she drove them through the rain, her wipers raking against the windshield almost on the beat to the music Will was playing. What would be a ten minute drive to Shoreditch any other time took them an unsurprising thirty minutes instead due to normal weekend London traffic. 

Sure the nearest place to get doughnuts was literally next door to her flat, but where she was taking Will was a hidden gem of a doughnut shop, and while (Y/N) loved it, taking thirty minutes to get there did test her patience. And Will’s. He had a low tolerance for traffic on a normal day, so this one was particularly worse, and she ignored his complaints by turning the music volume up and smiling at him in response and he rolled his eyes. 

Right in the middle of Shoreditch was a corner shop painted bright green, standing out among the other buildings in the bleak Winter. She pulled her car along the side of the street and her and Will piled out, stepping onto the pavement and walking across the street to the window. 

“Get whatever you want,” she said, crossing her arms to fight off the cool wind, “I’ll buy since you complained about it the entire time.” 

Will stared at the building, glanced at the menu, and then looked at her. “Didn’t mean to complain, I just don’t trust your taste in gourmet doughnuts.” 

She shot him a look and he tried to hold back a smile before she playfully slapped his arm. “Just go order something,” 

When Will stepped up to the register, eyes scanning over the array of doughnuts behind the glass and began picking and choosing, (Y/N) felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She switched her keys into her other hand and quickly fished out her phone, turning it over to look at the screen, expecting it to be Cleo, to be the groupchat. 

Adrian Russell Are you free today? 

When she first read over the text, she thought that she had misread the name, so she read it back in her head, spelling it out letter by letter until she realized she had not been mistaken. All it took for him to text her was a week and three days since the last time they spoke, nine hours since they were in the same room together. 

Her heart dropped at the realization of what was going on, a sudden heavy weight pushing on her shoulders. He was trying to come back to her. For the most part, she had completely gotten over him since unblocking his number a mere three weeks ago. There were no late nights crying herself to sleep or days spent sulking on the sofa with a mouth full of popcorn because he had yet to text her, instead she found solace in being single and going out with friends and surrounding herself with good people. 

And that was the slow understanding that she was no longer making out with Will at parties to make Adrian jealous. She was making out with Will because she wanted to. 

However, there was a twinge of mixed emotions that clouded in her head. She had spent the last year with Adrian, gave him everything she had to offer and more, and a piece of her longed for the familiarity of being with him, but the other half remembered most of the bad in the relationship. She was more in shock, her brain frazzled, trying to figure out what exactly broke the camel’s back for him. 

“Hey,” her head snapped up, watching Will take a step back from the window. 

“Oh,” she breathed out before looking at the cashier, “sorry.” 

(Y/N) quickly pocketed her phone and stepped forward, rambling out her usual order plus an additional few. Cleo would be pissed if she didn’t bring back one for her specifically, so she made sure to add in a few extra. 

Will took notice of her bouncing on her toes, one of her nervous habits. “You okay?” He asked when she finished her order and she nodded, but didn’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” 

Picking up the folded boxes of sweets, Will watched on while she tapped her card and paid for their food. He decided it wasn’t worth it, running the good mood they were having that morning, so he let go of her nervous mannerisms and they walked back to her car. 

Unlocking the doors from a distance, trying to combat the rain, they jogged quickly across the street and slid back inside to their seats. Will held the doughnut boxes in his lap, adjusting his seat-belt while (Y/N) turned on the engine and turned on the heat. 

“So how about a coffee?” He finally asked when she slid on her own seat-belt. 

She hummed, sitting back in her seat. “There is a Costa nearby, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah, think so,” he nodded, “oh, and I got it this time, don’t worry.” When she didn’t say anything for a second, he turned his head to look at her, and she was smiling. “What’s that grin for?” 

“Do you even know my Costa order?” 

Will licked his lips and read off the order from memory, “regular iced latte with almond milk.” He said it with such certainty. It had been well over a year, but he still remembered her order from the time they had Costa delivered to his flat. She was persistent with the almond milk after all. 

Her smile grew even wider. She cared about the little things, that’s what made her happy. And Will remembering her coffee order was definitely one of those little things. “Damned you, what’s your order? I feel like a right shit friend.” 

“That’s for you to figure out and memorize yourself. Not playin’ easy here.” 

“Oh piss off,” she laughed again before pulling her car onto the street. 

***

It was rare for the friend group to hang out more than twice a week, and it was even more rare for the friend group to see each other more than three times in five days unless they were on holiday. But (Y/N) and Will became the exception; a Friday night party, a Saturday morning doughnut and coffee run, a Monday movie night at hers, and a Wednesday game night at his. 

He called her earlier in the day and she came around a few hours later, they had take-out and a few beers and then ultimately settled on playing video games that Will knew he would 100% beat her at. 

“This is all just muscle memory, love,” 

“Oh fuck off with that,” she cursed loudly, stretching her foot to the side to nudge his controller in attempt to throw him off. But Will was too quick, dodging her at the last second and crossing the finish line just inches ahead of her. A groan of agony followed a cheerful shout, then belly laughter at their drastically different reactions. 

She looked at Will as he tossed his controller down, hands thrown in the air in rejoice. In a bout of 2-out-of-3, Will had come out victorious with a last second pull away, securing his second win of the three races, and he celebrated by teasing, poking her cheek as he called out, “I told you I was gonna win!” 

While he was quite literally the only person on this planet who could annoy her, she was now realizing just how much she took these moments for granted. No weekends spent together or holidays with friends abroad was like this - it was just them in the most natural environment possible. 

Luckily for her, Will was starting to feel the same way. He found himself waking up in the mornings with his mind immediately on her, wondering what she was doing, wondering if there was a way he could see her. The days he was used to spending alone in his room editing until the early hours were no longer. His fingers always found her number in his phone. 

He didn’t understand it, really. How a friend for years was always just a friend until one night. 

Moving her legs from his lap, she allowed him to stand and stretch his long limbs. They had been playing games for a while - at first it was FIFA, that he absolutely destroyed her at until it was no longer fun, and then they switched to Mario Kart, which he was also having a blast beating her at. Video games were the only way he could beat her at a game, and she did well at reminding him of all the times he went bankrupt in Monopoly. 

“Want a beer?” He asked rounding the edge of the sofa, heading towards the kitchen.

She nodded while still focused on the screen, changing the color of Yoshi for the next race, “yes please.” 

After changing the color of Yoshi back to green, she was picky, she placed the controller down on her lap and waited for Will to walk back in. Her attention was elsewhere when she felt a phone vibrate on the sofa, and she immediately started to look for her own phone, but saw that it was Will’s phone instead - the screen lit up on the cushion next to her leg. 

It was a harmless glance, one she didn’t even really mean until she realized it far too late that it wasn’t her phone, but her stomach had already dropped. 

Hanna Day Missing you x

And just like that, they were coming back around. 

In all fairness, it took Hanna a few more days after the last party in comparison to Adrian’s handful of hours after. And (Y/N) rolled her eyes, trying to push out the idea of the girl that floated in her head. 

It was to no one’s surprise that Hanna and (Y/N) hadn’t got along well while Hanna and Will were dating. Hanna was the type to be your best friend one second, and then be behind your back the next, and everyone close to Will knew that, specifically the girl friends he had for years. Hanna was never fond of her boyfriend’s best friend, because there were always questions that revolved around their status as “just friends.” Just like how Adrian questioned it, too. 

But (Y/N) and Will’s friendship wasn’t even particularly new, they had been friends for years after meeting at Fabric, a London nightclub, just months after they both moved to the city. They met through Gee, Will’s flatmate, and by the end of the night (Y/N) was helping Will find his keys on the sticky nightclub dance floor and then wound up asleep on his sofa. And they were close ever since. 

It was the summer following their meeting that they crossed the line of “friends” while in Barcelona, but it was a line they never crossed again once returning to London. And it wasn’t much longer after than that, she and Adrian met through James and began dating, and then a handful of months later, Hanna and Will started dating too. So there was never any true reason for Hanna to dislike her - she just didn’t like the fact that Will had other female friends with a history of being close. For her own insecure reasons, (Y/N) assumed. 

“Was that mine?” Will asked, coming back from the kitchen, handing (Y/N) one of the uncapped beers he brought from the refrigerator. 

She nodded, immediately taking a sip before replying, “yeah, think so.” 

Out the corner of her eye, she watched Will sit back onto the sofa and reach for his phone, but his expression didn’t change after seeing the name across his screen. Deciding she didn’t want to know if he was replying or not, she focused back on the telly screen, flipping through the colors of her character again to occupy herself. 

“It’s Hanna,” was all he said before locking his phone back, placing it on the coffee table, now upside down. 

She played it off like she hadn’t seen it, raising a brow, “yeah?” 

Will hummed as he sat back against the cushion, immediately choosing his character and allowing the screen to move on. He didn’t say anything else, leaving it at that, but she felt obligated to say something. 

“Adrian texted me too,”

Will glanced at her hastily, “when?” 

She let out a deep breath, not meeting his eyes but watching the screen count down to one again before their race started, finding herself in an awkward limbo of telling him the truth or lying for the sake of whatever was going on between them. She knew that she should have told him before now, that she should have on Saturday, but she felt like it would have ruined everything. If she had told him right then, she doubted if he would have even come over Monday, if she would be on his sofa right now.

After all, they got what they wanted, right? They won. But it was feeling much more complicated than that. 

“Saturday,” she blurted out.

Will didn’t say anything for a moment, playing it off as focusing on the race instead of the thoughts racking his brain. He remembered Saturday afternoon in Shoreditch - sitting in her car eating doughnuts and drinking coffee on the side of the street while rain pattered down onto the roof, them laughing and listening to music while talking about anything that came to mind. And he remembered thinking at the time that her mind seemed elsewhere, but he decided not to push it for the sake of ruining their time together. 

It then clicked in his head that that was when Adrian texted her, when she looked like she saw a ghost at the doughnut shop.

“Yeah?” He asked casually. “Did you text him back?” 

She shook her head, “no,” 

There was a second of pause between them.

“Are you going to text her back?” 

But there wasn’t any hesitation for Will’s answer, “no,”

Later that night, after a few more games of Mario Kart, (Y/N) slumped back into her flat in Poplar. The door clicked shut and she tossed her keys down onto the foyer table, her ears picking up the sound of music coming from down the hallway. She followed the sounds to Cleo’s bedroom. Cleo didn’t even look up from her laptop, where she was writing an already extremely late paper for her history of cinematic fashion course, to see her flatmate fall face first into the duvet next to her. 

A few minutes passed and Cleo finished up her paragraph before asking, “and how are you?” 

“Don’t know, honestly,” she replied, voice muffled by the material of the duvet. 

“And that is because?” 

“I don’t know what I’m feeling on the inside.” 

Cleo leaned forward and sat her laptop on the bed, her attention now away from the linen skirts of a 17th century period piece and onto her flatmate, who at this time, hasn’t caught a break in two weeks. 

“You were at Will’s flat, yeah?” Cleo received just a nod in response before (Y/N) rolled over, head resting on her friend’s thigh. “So what happened?” 

“Everything was going really well, and then Hanna texted him.” 

“Hanna? Hanna Day?” 

She huffed. “Yeah, she was telling him that she missed him. I accidentally read it and now I wish I hadn’t read it because I feel sad.” 

Cleo reached down, running fingers across her cheek and then moving to play with her hair. “And why do you feel sad?” 

(Y/N) stared at the ceiling, opening herself up and releasing the feelings she had kept inside for the last few hours. It was hard for her to keep things in, but this was something she couldn’t particularly explain easily. Especially to Will. 

“I don’t know, really,” her voice was like a whisper, “I think - I think it’s because I’m scared he’ll go back to her. What we are doing is just something dumb to make them jealous, at first it was anyways..” 

Cleo frowned, feeling where the conversation was going. She hated seeing her best friend fall into a mess of feelings, but sometimes, it just happened, whether you wanted it or not.

“And now I don’t want it to stop. But I don’t want to do it just to make them jealous.” 

“Because you like him,” Cleo said softly. 

Her eyes drifted closed and she focused on the feeling of Cleo’s fingers then smoothing at her hair, and then running through the strands again, and she nodded. “Yeah,” she admitted, “because I like him.” 

Cleo was always the logical one of the two when it came to feelings. She liked to listen and then talk things through, so a lot of their friends relied on her for her wisdom in times of need. This was one of those moments.

“You wanted a sweet moment of revenge, but what you wound up with was an ex-boyfriend who texts you while you gained feelings for quite literally the only person you’re not supposed to have feelings for.” 

“I didn’t bloody mean to gain feelings for him.” She said harshly. “But it’s just nice - I don’t know, it’s nice that what I feel around Will is new, and it’s refreshing.”

“You were looking for that feeling in the wrong place, because you got yourself into quite a mess.” There was the brutal honesty, but it was what needed to be said. “But don’t beat yourself up over it, your feelings are just messed up and it’s understandable.” 

“What should I do?” 

Cleo let out a small breath, twirling the stands between her fingers. “First, I think you need to talk to him.” 

“I can’t talk to him about this. It’s embarrassin’.” 

The blonde sighed again, shaking her head at her friend’s stubbornness. “And then you need to figure out what you want.”

“It just sucks,” she said again and Cleo nodded, leaning down and placing her head on her arm, kissing the skin of her shoulder. 

“I know it does, I know it does,” she whispered, and their conversation died down, the music continuing on for them. 

[rydenstories]

I heard my best friend’s voice again. I almost immediately wished I hadn’t.

REDDIT

I remember when my childhood ended, and I suppose that isn’t normal. Many people, I’m sure, just grow into adulthood naturally. For me, though, I felt it end deep down in my core when my best friend, Whitney, died. We did everything together; even alternated having dinner at each other’s houses each night. Living just across the street, it was easy for us to spend all our time together. Then, at 11 years old, she was just gone forever. Some hidden heart defect that had been with her since birth, it was hard to understand as someone who was just shy of 11 myself. Still, like a severed limb, something fundamental felt as if it had been brutally removed and I went numb. I drew back into myself and didn’t talk to anyone for weeks. 

It got worse when I woke up one morning, looked out my bedroom window, and saw a moving truck in front of her house. Apparently, her parents couldn’t take living there without her and the pain split them up. Their house was empty and they were gone in a day, without so much as a tearful goodbye. 

Days after that, I couldn’t sleep without having night terrors that I still cannot recall to this day. I’d try my best not to sleep at all. Instead, I’d stare out the window at that empty, brooding house, imagining that Whitney was still there. On one of the many nights that I woke up, sweating and racking my brain for what exactly had frightened me, something about the light outside looked different. I pulled myself out of bed and walked over to the window. A single, blue light shone from somewhere inside the house; in Whitney’s room.

Honestly, I thought I was still asleep and dreaming, that’s why I decided to forgo waking my parents and instead, quietly snuck out the back door. I didn’t even bother to get into my tennis shoes and coat despite the fact that it was a freezing March night. I barely noticed the biting cold as I ran across the street and behind the house, knowing the sliding glass door in the back had never had a lock. 

The emptiness inside the house felt so very wrong to me. I’d basically spent half of my childhood there. It was home, and now it wasn’t. Nothing was left behind except a low sound coming from somewhere upstairs. Before I knew it, I was at the top of those stairs and staring down a hallway with all doors open except one. Light leaked from underneath. Again, somehow believing in my mind that I was dreaming, I didn’t hesitate when walking down the hallway or opening that bedroom door.

What had once been a little girl’s crowded, toy filled bedroom was now near empty, but not completely. There were a few boxes, an old desk, and Whitney’s TV. It was pink, Hello Kitty themed, with a built in VCR and Karaoke machine. She’d gotten it for Christmas and I had been jealous.

It was turned on, tuned into a children’s movie we both loved - Thumbelina. I felt myself smiling as I walked closer to the TV. I stood there for a minute, feeling tired and a bit in a trance as I watched the colorful characters dance across the screen. It only lended to the dream like moment when the screen fuzzed out and the image was replaced by a face - a real face.

Whitney’s face.

“Emily? Is that you?” her voice spilled from the speakers, unmistakable. My heart began to beat a little fast, but feeling that there was no way I couldn’t be dreaming, I responded. “It’s me! Whitney, I miss you!” Her face was close to the screen, basically the only thing visible. “I miss you, too.” There was a pause after she said it. A few moments of silence where I didn’t know what else to say. Or maybe I was afraid I’d wake up and the dream would be over.

From somewhere downstairs, there was a crashing noise. It startled me enough to cause me to turn towards the door, and it was that moment that I knew that I was awake. Nothing moved in the hallway and no other noise came, so I turned back to the TV. It was still fixed on Whitney, but the picture was coming in even more fuzzy. This made no sense. I was awake - I knew my friend was dead - but there she was, on the screen.

"Aren't you..... dead?" I didn't want to say it out loud, but I had to ask. Plus, feeling much more awake in that moment, part of myself reasoned that it COULD be a recording. If I hadn't been fully awake before, maybe I dreamed the previous responses. However, when Whitney smiled almost immediately after the question, I knew it I probably hadn't.

She giggled. "Of course I am, you know that!" With each word, the screen grew a little fuzzier. "Ask me anything if you don't believe me!" her voice echoed, sounding off-key and almost layered. "C'mon.... don't you wanna know what it's like? Being dead?" Again, Whitney laughed, her face still taking up a majority of the tiny screen. 

I shook my head, tears involuntarily streaming down my face. So many questions rushed through my mind. Why was she doing this? Why did she want me to know this? 

There was a second of silence on both ends. I, frozen in front of the TV and her, staring from somewhere inside. Whitney's smile began to grow larger and larger - each tooth sharpening into points. The voice that came from the speakers now sounded more like seven, and all were deep and filled with blissful rage. "Well, why not?" it bellowed and the screen flickered black.

Everything on my tiny body trembled. It had already been cold that night, but something inhabited the air in that moment that felt sub-arctic. My feet were already cautiously propelling me backwards before my mind even registered them doing so. Still, my eyes didn't leave the TV screen as it rotated between plain black and white. Gurgled sounds came from the speakers. They began to form words around the time my body reached the threshold of the bedroom door.

"IIIIIITTTTT FEEEEEELLLSSS AAAAAAMMMMAAAAZZZZZIIIIINNNNGGGGG!!!!!!" It chanted over and over again, the sheer volume greatly contrasting from Whitney's quiet voice. The floor underneath my bare feet began to shake. The windows rattled. "Oh, don't gooooooo!" The voice called from the TV. The screen finally ceased flickering, illuminated the bedroom with plain white light for a minute before shifting back to a distorted, almost human-like face - nearly resembling Whitney, but not quite. "Don't you want a hug from your besttttt friendddddd!?" It shrieked. 

Just then, the face pushed through the screen and into the real world. In three dimensions, it was hideous. The skin of an 11 year old girl stretched over the face of something horrid - something inhuman. Black goop dripped from it's overstretched, grinning maw, onto the carpet. Sharp, angular shoulders emerged as well, then long arms with dirt-covered fingers reached out. Reached down. Braced against the floor. 

With every move, it's face became more distorted, it's voices multiplied. "DON'T YOU WANT TO FEEL THIS? IT FEELS SO GOOD!"

I still didn't even notice the steady stream of tears falling down my face. "No! You aren't Whitney! I don't want this!" My eyes couldn't leave the steaming, elongated, horrible form that was pulling itself from the tiny Hello Kitty TV into the real world. Somehow, though, my hand reached for the doorknob. In a flash, I slammed it closed behind me and practically launched myself out into the hallway. Almost instantly, as the door latched, no more light leaked from underneath. The house was now dead silent. Still, I didn't stay to take the chance, running home and locking every door behind me. 

The following day, the house was silent. Not a single suggestion that anyone was inside, so once the babysitter let me outside to play, I snuck back in again. The bedroom door was closed, as I left it, and the TV was off. The carpet underneath, once tan, was blackened and burnt. I unplugged it and, despite being a very skinny 11 year old, lugged it across the street and into my dad's work shed. At least, I thought, it would be safe there.

Neither of my parents ever asked questions about it, even when I asked them to please not touch it under any circumstances. There would be nights when, despite knowing nobody had been out there, I'd look out a window to see the shed lit up. Instead of repeating the same mistake, I'd wait until morning and always find the TV plugged in somehow. I'd unplug it again, move it away from the outlet, but it'd always find it's way back there until it inadvertently got sold while I was at summer camp in high school. 

Now, to this day, I don't know where it is - though there are times where I think it doesn't matter. There are more than a few nights where I wake up with the TV on. Sometimes, it's a fuzzy screen and others, it's a children's movie I love. Pulling the covers off me, as if it's nothing abnormal at all, I get up out of bed and unplug the TV set, hoping that her familiar face doesn't flicker onto the screen again.

[misslisterkeepsajournal]

1831 Thursday 6 October

8 3/4 10 20/..

Ready at 9 5/.. at which hour Fahrenheit 64°. and small rainy morning as it has been since 6 a.m. - rather unlucky - an end I fear to all my walking schemes - breakfast at 9 1/4 to 10 5/.. - saw and spoke to the man the waiter recommended as guide to walk with me - much more like postboy than guide - would not do at all - went to a bookseller's shop close by - Bought Brannon's guide and miniature map of the island and saw a 4to. [quarto] volume of views of his (50 views) at 40/. with text - not dear - ordered a one horse car -

Cameron and George inside with me, and off from West Cowes at 11 20/.. - still raining - a hopeless day - yet better as we proceeded and not rain to wet us tho' our has only a square top over our heads, and all the side curtains undrawn - west and East Cowes with the castle of the latter (Mr. Nash) peeping out from the trees, very pretty - losing sight of these no beauty to Newport about a mile before the town (right) pass the barracks, like a square village of one story brick houses - the 14th. regiment there - a little farther (left) the neat large good looking brick house of industry or, as we in Yorkshire should call it, workhouse for the whole island -

Newport a tolerably good looking town - neat Ionic porticoed town hall with market and shops on the ground floor - goodish looking old gothic church - Charles the 1st's. 2nd daughter Elizabeth who died at Carisbrook castle was buried here - her lead coffin found about 30 years ago - Carisbrook Castle about a mile beyond Newport - drove up the hill to the castle gate or heavy wooden door of the time of Edward 3 and therefore said to be about 500 years old - 3/4 hour there - mount 40 steps up to the Keep tower said to have been built by the Romans - a well at the top said to be 300 feet deep, covered over for fear of accident - very fine view - Carisbrook (Cary's brook) a picturesque little town at one part Newport and its river medina (medeena) the town-like barracks, looking very well - could have seen portsmouth and Spithead -, and the tower of Xst.chch. [Christchurch] church but too hazy and very windy - the inside of the tower grown round with the most magnificent tree-like ivy I ever saw - Lord Bolton the late governor laid out a great deal of money on the castle planted the trees, and shut it up - it was open to the public before who did much damage - Lord B- [Bolton] had thought of making a gallery from one of the house windows (he lived in it) to the Keep Tower - would have spoilt the look - Lord Malmesbury present governor £1200 a year and a lieutenant governor at 20/. a day - the tilting ground taken in by queen Elizabeth and converted into a bowling green for Charles 1st. when prisoner here is now turned to an archery ground and the archers dine in the great dining room now only used for this purpose - the duchess of Kent and princess Victoria at the last meeting - Miss Ward whose father had so much property in the island and whose brother is M.P. for the city of London won the last prize - the best lady archer here as at Southampton (at Southampton ladies bows 30lb. [pound] for 50 yards gents. [gentlemens] 50lbs [pounds] for 80 yards) -

Carisbrooke Castle [Image Source]

A farm of 300 or 400 acres belonging to the castle and some forest land - have planted some of the latter with firs - say oaks will not grow - the castle yard small and rather choked up with building - saw lamp let down to the water's surface of the fine old Roman well 300 feet deep - cut thro' solid rock at about ten or 12 yards from the surface of the castle yard - 90 feet deep of water - saw the poor ass turn the wheel - this one 3 or 4 yards [sic] old - much trouble to teach it - the last about above 40 years old - the window from which Charles tried to escape is stone mullioned in 3 divisions above and 3 below each division having 3 iron stauncheons - this suite of rooms quite gone - saw the little white wainscotted room in which the princess Elizabeth Stuart died - the 2 little round towers in advance of the great entrance gate the most perfect part of the remain -

Old looking gothic church at Carisbrook - from the hill above the town (on our road to Freshwater gate Inn) very fine view of the castle - narrow good downy road - at least, down for the most part and 1 or 2 farm houses left right and fields and very thinly scattered farmhouses and cottages were on the right - not much wood to be seen save once or twice round gentlemens seats - distant views of Newtown and Yarmouth and the sea (right) -

The village of Freshwater merely a few scattered cottages and farm houses - the neat little picturesque Inn 1 1/2 mile off close on the sea at Freshwater bay - a bold high perpendicular chalk recess in the cliffs - from here to the needles a very fine bold range of chalk cliffs - went into the 2 caverns close by here which can be entered at low water a fine arch in the cliff, but caverns of no great extent -

Then took George and off at 4 and in an hour walked over the down (3 miles) to the Lighthouse -  a circular 2 story high round tower - 10 fixed reflecting lights - burn 500 gallons oil a year - the people man and his wife and 6 children have 20/. a week and coals and house found them - much sitting up at night - lamps must be trimmed every 3 hours in winter -

Lighthouse at Freshwater [Image Source]

The woman went down with me to the needles point (3 needles) - the little bay (left i.e. south) that looked like a fantenil from Hengistbury or Xst.chch. [Christchurch] head is Scratsell Scratchell's bay at the bottom of which the cavern not so large, the woman said, as the cavern at Freshwater gate in Freshwater bay and she had been in both - was in the former in August last - could only be entered in a boat when the water was very smooth - It is in this bay that the sea gulls build in such numbers and the men are let down by ropes to get the eggs - the Eider duck too comes here, and the men seek the down - the bay on the right north is alum bay - very pretty little bay - the western half precipitous white chalk the Eastern half streaked all colours with coal, clay, pink sand, etc. etc.

The Needles at Freshwater [Image Source]

35 mins. [minutes] at lighthouse and looking about and back again at the Inn in 8 mins. [minutes] under the hour at 6 27/.. - tea at 7 - settled accounts - wrote the above of today till 9 1/2 -

[Margin] Rainy day till about 1 1/4 afterwards pretty fine - very high wind on the down this evening - Fahrenheit 66°. now at 9 1/2 p.m. at which hour went to my room -  

Reference: SH:7/ML/E/14/0128

[windpeakofficial]

CAMELIA WINDPEAK || INTO THE WILDWOODS

         -  in which camelia goes on a planned expedition to open up the secrets beyond rovar's gap.

(i wrote this at 2 last night and i am REALLY rusty im sorry lol)

                                                   | ❆ |               [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 10:30 AM || DUNDULL, JORVIK ]                                                    | ❆ |

The sun struggled to shine through the thick, frosted over window panes of Dundull Stables.

Last night had marked one of the first harsh frosts to come this season. Sure, southwestern Jorvik had pretty simple winters, especially compared to the northeastern territories, or Camelia's hometown of Beauvista. Still, however, a chill managed to creep its way through a loose board in the barn - accompanying the sounds of mucking, horses making conversation, and the looming echo of the kitchen's radio playing "Walking in a Winter Wonderland."

As Camelia adjusted the girth of her treeless saddle, she received a calm nudge in her side from Pepper. Turning to face her, she received a face full of mare stare and a snort - causing her to giggle. "Don't you ever like anything on your back?" She chuckled, slipping a light brown bosal over Pepper's ears and mounting.

Before the team knew it, they were already on the way to Mistfall's Ranger camp.

Cam knew that it would only be fair if she brought this specific mount out for the trip into the Wildwoods. Being a retired Jorvik Ranger horse from right here in Dundull, she knew that Pepper would not only appreciate the gesture, but also guide her from years of taking the trails. She had received an invite from Alonso about a month ago, asking if she wanted to come and help out. Happy to oblige, and possibly find a few secrets, she agreed and booked a stall to board in.

                                                     | ❆ |     [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 11:00 AM || MISTFALL RANGER STATION, JORVIK ]                                                      | ❆ |

Coming up the hill to the station, she could already see 4-5 rangers come into view, one of them being a happy, waving Alonso. Though excited to meet everyone, she couldn't help but be apprehensive. How couldn't she be, really, considering that they were going into an area that hadn't been explored for years and she was doing it with none other than a bunch of strangers.

Waving happily, she dismounted and led her mare to the newly-lit campfire. Breathing in the scent of marshmallows, she grinned and introduced herself. Everyone seemed fairly sweet ( except for that Nova chick, no clue what her problem was ) yet something just felt... off. Rowan Allaway - but what really bugged her was the fact that she couldn't figure out why. They were just different, mysterious, confusing.. too much that could be feared, she supposed. They said that they'd "heard things about her" and that if they're true, she'd be useful... Regardless, she dropped the topic once she saw a familiar haflinger and its' rider approaching them.

Rania. That put her at ease. She smiled at her warm greeting, replied happily, and before they knew it they were off.

Cam heard everyone chatter amongst themselves and eachother until she became fairly certain that she was being ignored. She didn't know why, really, but it didn't matter. She had already zoned out - the only thing her subconscious picked up was the rambunctious stories that Rowan was telling and the occasional remark from Alonso, Rania or Yousef. She felt magic teeming stronger and stronger as they got closer to the passage.

"Camelia?" A voice called out, shaking her from her thoughts. "Can you join us for a group picture before we head in?" Rowan beams and her stomach churns uncomfortably. Her mouth twists into a smile.

"Sure, I'd be happy to."

                                                     | ❆ |            [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 11:30 AM || ROVAR'S GAP, JORVIK ]                                                      | ❆ |

Pepper nervously stepped up the hill, ears partially pinned in an uncomfortable listening position. She spooked when Astrid let out a loud gasp, stepping aside a few hoofbeats.

"Sorry everyone, she's a little on edge." Cam apologized "Astrid, is everything okay?"

"It grabbed me! It reached out and GRABBED me!" The ranger practically screamed. Cam's gut did flip-flops. There is definitely magic here. She sensed it.

The rest bickered back and forth, forcing Cam to try and focus back into reality even though her soul was trying to comprehend the magic. "Not now, Cam. Not now" she mumbled, sighing as she watched Yousef gallop away with Astrid and her steed in tow. Rania looked at her quizzically.

"What do you make of all this?" She asked softly, causing Cam to gulp.

"I- think there's a lot more to this place than what meets the eye." She blinked, urging Pepper up the mountain, still bothered by the underlying power.

As the team of two headed near the top of the hill, they fell back. This gave Cam some time to pull out her camera and sneak some photos of the beautiful landscape. Despite the fear factor, it was gorgeous nonetheless. Beauty carved out by the hand of Aideen herself and- what was that Enitan was saying up ahead?

"Enitan, what were you saying?" She trotted up to the group, slipping her camera back into her saddlebag. "Sorry, I was lost in the landscape."

This caused the man to chuckle "The deer, Camelia, it's very special. It watches over the woods." This also caused Tiera to laugh. What was up with awkward laughter today?

"It's a genetic effect called leicism, though sometimes certain environmental elements come into play - like radiation! Enitan, where do you come up with these stories?" She bickered, causing Enitan to sigh and look toward the gap that Rowan was standing in.

Woah.

Cam and Pepper were speechless. Their hearts pounded in an almost perfect sync. This was a large valley with trees that touched the skies. They went on for miles, fresh breeze flowing through with hints of magic. It was stunning. The grasses grew wild, yet kept a manageable length. This place was truly a wonder.

And then it started to pour.

                                                   | ❆ |          [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 12:30 PM || WILDER’S VERGE, JORVIK ]                                                    | ❆ |

Pepper was almost eye to eye with Dellingr, keeping it together only through the bond they shared. One thing she had to say about that horse, he wouldn't leave Rania if his life depended on it. He pranced through the mud, huffing and puffing through the lowering temperatures.

CRACK!

Pepper leapt back what could've been called a foot. She exhaled heavily, watching Shay gallop away without his rider.

Cam blinked, exhaling with the same volume of her horse. She held Pepper's reins tightly and walked carefully toward a dazed Rowan.

"Someone's gotta go after Shay before he hurts himself!" And as soon as you both made eye contact, you knew who it was going to be.

Thunder boomed as Pepper tried her best to find her footing, huffing and puffing, snorting for the horse to calm down. Camelia's eyes blurred from the bitter wind hitting her face. As they neared the steed, the girl stood out of her saddle, leaning toward Shay until she managed to catch his headstall between her fingers, pulling back and letting out a pronounced "HO! EASY!"

The bridle slipped out of her hands, forcing her to find her seat again before Shay came to a sliding stop about twenty-five feet in front of them. Without hesitation, the tattered woman dismounted and began to step toward the panicked horse, humming softly. All of a sudden it was just her, this horse, and the world. She silently thanked Rhiannon for training her in the gift of wind whispering and soul riding in the back of her mind.

She loved the way the magic felt. It coursed through her veins like life blood, and everything felt so loud. Colors were brighter, feelings were stronger, and every sense she had was awake and vibrant. Before she knew it, her hand instinctually stroked his muzzle. She turned around and walked back to the gang, Irish cob in tow.

"Thanks for bringing him back to me, Camelia. He's a real beaut, but he's still learning the ropes." Rowan smiled. Cam felt an exhausted smile bubble to the surface of her mind, tired from the power she used in front of this unknowing, motley crew, but still being careful. Maybe they weren't so bad.

Enitan mumbled to himself "I think this forest doesn't want us here. It seems.. angry." A visible chill ran down his spine, either from the low temperatures or the fact that he was just.. scared.

"Stop getting yourselves all worked up." Rowan sighs "Nature holds no grudges, it only acts on its' own behalf."

Cam performed the most overly exaggerated eyeroll ever, stifling a laugh when she heard Tiera giggle. Nobody said a word and they continued on their hack, though Cam reached over and tapped Enitan on the leg, nodding understandingly at him.

She hadn't really realized this, but the rain had stopped completely. All that she recalled was that she felt the sun beaming on her skin when she was calming Shay. Who knows what happened, really. Magical properties were a fairly large gray area in Jorvik.

                                                         | ❆ | [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 1:00 PM || REDWOOD POINT RANGER STATION, JORVIK ]                                                          | ❆ |

Cam smiled fondly as they reached the abandoned lodge. She could tell this was a really cozy place at one point, though quite frankly, she also figured that there was a 99% chance that there were 1-3 dead people inside. Who knows, though!

Everyone was given their individual tasks, and Cam quickly volunteered to fix the paddock. She had done it several other times when working at other places, and it was quite easy as long as you had a couple nails on hand.

One fence, three fence, brown fence ... brown fence. She was done! She quickly slid her helmet back and wiped some sweat off of her brow. Hearing a twig snap and, assuming it was Pepper, she turned with a friendly greeting.

"Hey, Pepper, I'm done a-"

Oh.

Oh.

It was Enitan's deer.

That had to be what it was.

It had a sleek build covered in vines and glowing blue flowers. At the base of its neck emerged a proud, bright white coat with shiny, hollow looking baby blue eyes that strikingly resembled Rania's. Was it blind?  You know what, that doesn't matter right now.

Cam reached out and slid her hand down its wet nose. The creature sniffed curiously, making her giggle, and galloped off. She let out a delayed flinch and looked over to her mare, as if to confirm "Did that just happen?"

Yes, that just happened. She guessed she would just- go back to the station, then. Wordlessly, she slid onto Pepper's back and trotted back to Rowan and the cabin. As she approached them, they gave her a peculiar look.

"Is everything okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." They squinted. Cam internally argued with herself, trying to figure out if she should tell them or not - or rather, if they'd believe her.

"Nope, it's all good. The fence is in tip top shape." She smiled, putting on a facade. This is a discussion to have with Enitan, she decided.

"Alright, well, you should get some rest. You look dog tired." Rowan chuckles warmly. She grimaced internally at the thought of napping at the cabin. Hopefully someone brought something a bit more comfortable than the old sleeping bag she used in her junior year of high school. Nevertheless, she nodded and left to untack Pepper.

                                                        | ❆ | [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 3:45 PM || REDWOOD POINT RANGER STATION, JORVIK ]                                                         | ❆ |

Sighing to herself, Camelia turns Pepper out to pasture with the other horses. Grinning wildly, she watches them bounce and play with each other. The sun is already setting due to the season, so she seeks shelter inside the stable and begins to prepare a stall for her trusty mare. She feels her expression soften and, out of habit, begins to hum the same tune she did earlier.

A stall door closes and she doesn't bother to look, until she hears a familiar voice that could light up a room.

"Cam?" Rania questions "I recognize your humming. Is that you?"

Cam nods instinctually before snapping into reality and correcting herself "Oh! Yes, Rania, it's me. Do you need any help?"

"No," the dark haired girl grins softly "I just had a feeling, you know-"

"A feeling?" Cam blinks. "What kind of feeling?"

"Well, the rangers' exploration is over, but... I've a feeling yours isn't?" Her grin turns into a smile. "I felt what you did with that horse. I might not have been able to see it, but Aideen willing I felt it."

Cam trails off, just saying that the "humming" was merely something she's tried with other wild horses and it seemed to calm them. Rania clearly didn't buy it, but she knew that she could grill Cam on it later.

"Regardless," Rania taps the door of Dellingr's stall "what do you say you and I do a little exploring?"

Cam's face explodes from Rania's contagious grin.

And that's exactly what those two girls did, too. They wandered all over the woodlands with their mounts, taking pictures and describing landmarks.

FIN. 2161 WORDS.

                                                        | ❆ |                 [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 6:30 PM || WILDWOODS, JORVIK ]                                                         | ❆ |

[rebelrecovery]

Book Notes:

This one is one of the better quit lit books I’ve read - Belle writes with blunt honesty, and I love the way she envisions the alcoholic voice in her head as a big bad wolf rather than a wine witch.  

Below are the parts that were most helpful for me... 

I thought, I can’t start drinking now, there isn’t enough. Not enough for what? To fade out. To be numb. Because despite what I may have said, I never wanted one glass of wine with dinner. I wanted three glasses. What’s the point in one glass? And despite what I may have said, I never drank because I liked the taste. [...] I drank to get fuzzy. I wanted to be slightly numb, to take the edge off. I spent a lot of time taking the edge off and then trying to maintain the edge taken off, but I usually ran into problems of sobering up too quickly, or drinking too much. There was no magic formula for edge-off-ness. I tried to find it. I tried having beer before wine, I tried eating first, I tried drinking on an empty stomach. There may have been a four-minute window of edge-off-ness and then I spent the rest of the night trying to find the four-minute window again.

I never want to do this again. I never want to wake up in the middle of the night both wishing I was dead and hoping I’m not dying. Let me not vomit, please, and I promise I will cut back on the drinking. I never want to feel this bad, feel so hopeless, alone, scared, dark. I am definitely drinking too much. I should face that. I should stop drinking for a week, take a break. I’ll start tomorrow. After the work party. After vacation. Next week. After the birthday. The first of the month. On a Monday. I promise. 

I had tried to stop drinking plenty of times on my own, but never managed to quit for more than a couple of days. Usually I’d declare my sobriety in the morning and then open a bottle of wine by 6 p.m. that same night. Then I’d quit again the next morning. No wine for one day. For two days. Then the voice would start. Is it time yet? You can drink now. Celebrate sobriety with a glass or two. You’ve done well. You are going to break this non-drinking stretch anyway, so you might as well drink now. Drink tonight and quit later. What about now. Is it time to drink yet? Fuck it, I’m going to drink, this is ridiculous. I’ve already quit for a week. Let’s celebrate sobriety with some alcohol.

If alcohol was in the house, it spoke to me, then I drank it. Even if I didn’t really enjoy it. I was drinking because it was the thing I did. No enjoyment. No taste. No feeling except for exhaustion. Like a hammer banging on my head. Did you ever try buying a case of wine, thinking that if it was around all the time you’d feel less compulsive about it, and drink less? Ha. Really. Who was I kidding? With a case of wine in the house, I drank more. Of course I did. We never had a wine collection or a wine rack or a wine cellar or a liquor cabinet either. Alcohol didn’t last long enough to be collected or displayed or shared.]

I had lots of drinking rules and guidelines for myself, and over time, bit by bit, I broke all of my rules. I’m only going to drink on special occasions or when socializing. Only on weekends.” But of course, you and I both know that only drinking on weekends is tricky. Because what about Sunday night? Is Sunday part of the weekend? What about Thursday? Maybe the weekend is four days long. Maybe it is, in fact, most of the week. Controlled drinking is not very successful—you know this already because you’ve tried it. If we have to control our drinking, it means that our natural, default tendency is to have one, and then another, and then another. Any plan we make is very difficult, if not impossible, to adhere to. You tried moderation. You did. You maybe didn’t call it moderation. You tried making rules for yourself. When you realized that you were drinking more than you wanted to, before you ever saw this book, you did things like alternating every second glass with water, or switching from hard stuff to beer, or trying to skip days. You tried to drink only on weekends, or only have one, or only . . . or only . . . or only.

Normal drinkers measure their alcohol consumption like I measure my corn on the cob consumption—which is to say, not at all. Just like I have days without corn, normal drinkers have plenty of days without alcohol but they’re not keeping track. I don’t pay attention to whether you are getting more corn than me, and a normal drinker fills up glasses around her without worrying about who’s getting how much. And yes, it’s true that corn on the cob is my favourite of all summer things to eat, but I have never planned days around when I can eat it. I have never gone out at 11 p.m. to get more corn. I’ve never worried about running out of corn.

A ‘bottom’ in the sober world describes the point where you quit drinking. If you have a ‘high bottom’ then you quit when your problems were smaller. Poor concentration, missed deadlines, an inability to take advantage of new opportunities, procrastination, crappy sleep, many days of feeling ill. A ‘low bottom’ is where the micro problems have grown into larger holes, and might include health, relationship, money, or legal issues. My high bottom looks like this: drink with dinner, and after, plan to drink less, continue to drink the same amount, try to quit for a month and manage nine days, start again, not keep my promises to myself. Wonder what the hell is wrong with me. Suffer with crappy sleep, extra pounds, wasted money.

If alcohol is an elevator that only goes down, the goal is to step off, not to ride down any more. Stop drinking now. Start feeling better now. I stepped off early. But I’m not naive. I know where that elevator was going. If I stopped ‘before there was a problem’ then I was fucking lucky, plain and simple. Because even stopping where I did, it was hard to do. Really hard.

The “Drink Now” voice, which I call Wolfie, will say anything to get us to drink. Nothing is off-limits. Wolfie hits below the belt. Wolfie talks smack. Wolfie with a megaphone said to me: You’ve had a long, crazy day. Have a drink. You’ll just have one. It will take the edge off. You have blown this whole thing out of proportion. You need to cut back, not quit. A hundred fucking days? You’ll never make it anyway. 

I knew I had a very loud Wolfie “Drink Now” voice in my head that insisted that a glass of wine with dinner was normal. I also knew that there was another very quiet, very tiny mouse-like voice, that said: You have to stop. You know what this internal conflict is like. 

I felt moderately stable until something happened, like if I got frustrated, or mad, or sad, or bored, or if something good happened and I had to celebrate. I had completely maladaptive coping strategies. I didn’t have the skills to try anything else to feel better because—duh—I’d been using wine as my only coping mechanism. I’d overused wine as a feel-better tool for so long that I literally couldn’t remember one single thing I could do instead to ease my mood.

Booze isn’t a solution to a problem. It’s a very temporary pause button (manhole cover) with horrendous consequences. It’d be like turning to heroin. It isn’t the right solution for the problem. It gets between me and my life, between me and you, between me and serving, between me and fun. It affects my weight, my sleep, my enthusiasm. It blunts, fills, numbs, fills time, expands into the space allowed. Adds nothing, feels bad, sad, argumentative, irritated. Isn’t the real me. My life has so much MORE good stuff in it when the wine is gone. There’s nothing to escape from, it isn’t bad here, there’s joy and beauty and ease here. Don’t need to ‘go’ anywhere else. 

The voice that is YOU, when you’re 50 days sober, says “I know sometimes I feel like drinking but I’m not going to because I don’t want to have a new Day 1. I’ve done enough drinking in my past. I know that Day 1 is rotten.” The voice that is YOU says: “I want something different and better and I don’t know what that is yet, but I know I want to try this sober thing.” We end up in a place where even if bad shit happens, we do NOT think about drinking.

Picture booze like a Big Wolf With Black Eyes, he represents the voice in your head. Now you have to very calmly starve the wolf. Or better yet, you have to dehydrate him by not giving him anything to drink. At first he’ll be mad at you. “Where’s my drink?” You’ll say: I have all this free time now. I can’t talk to you, Wolfie. I’m running, baking, singing, reading, cleaning, spending time with my kids. I’m paying my taxes, cleaning off my desk, enjoying the weather. The wolf will taunt you. “Everyone else is drinking, why can’t you?” You’ll say: Sorry, Wolfie, can’t hear you. I’m too busy cranking up the volume on my new iPad that I bought with all the money I’ve saved.” The wolf will nearly be dehydrated. He’ll try a few more last-chance, desperate attempts. “You’re broken,” he’ll snarl. “You bitch, you can’t be fixed, you’ll always be a fuck-up, you suck at this, you might as well quit now.” And you’ll say: You want to fight? I’ll win. I’ve got so much more energy now that I’m sleeping through the night. I can outrun you Wolfie. I’m light on my feet now. I’ve got so much more spunk, clearer thinking. I’m planning to take over the world, Wolfie, me and my clear-headed genius. What is that? Sorry I can’t quite hear you. Your voice is so quiet, Wolfie. Are you nearly dehydrated? You’re going to dry up and turn to dust. Puts palm of hand up to lips and blows across the surface. Dust disperses, Wolfie is specks of grey in the air. And then gone.

Being sober is a relief. Quitting drinking is like putting down a backpack of rocks that you’ve been carrying around for a long time. It’s like a deep breath that fills your lungs. Being sober is feeling proud of yourself. Being sober is easier than drinking. Too much of our brain space is used trying to manage alcohol consumption. The “Drink Now” voice is exhausting. All of that time we spend planning to drink—thinking about drinking, wondering how much alcohol there is, trying to figure out how we’re going to get out of that work obligation because we’re hungover—all of that can stop. You have been drowning out who you really are. Literally. Banging yourself on the head with a bottle or two of wine. That’s not you. The real you is in there. Drinking is a way of hiding from who you really are. I can honestly say that being a non-drinker is unicorns and parades compared to drinking.

There is a point in each day when you will most feel like drinking. I call this the witching hours. Typically it’s around dinner time; for me it was 6:00 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. If you were to plot the duration of the witching hours on a graph, the period of time gets predictably shorter and less intense each day. Having a replacement drink is a good idea. Your brain is used to having something to drink at this time of day, so you can plan a lovely replacement drink. I have found that bitter drinks deal with cravings better than sweet drinks.

We are so used to using alcohol as our only treat, that we need to learn new treats. You can have bubble bath, trashy magazines, flowers, oven mitts, bad TV from Netflix, time alone, cheap earrings, or savoury pancakes. Perhaps you’ll plan to have steak every Friday for the first six weeks. And if you don’t eat steak, then substitute salmon or sushi or marinated tofu in that category. You spent money drinking, so you can invest some of those Wolfie dollars to support your sobriety. Here are some examples of things I’ve treated myself to: fuzzy blankets, silver jewelry, deluxe candles, essential oils, chocolate croissants, lovely beads, thrift shopping, craft supplies, gourmet ground coffee, a gorgeous teacup, a bouquet of flowers, a potted basil plant. The largest was a countertop dishwasher. The trick is to either find something that you want but don’t need, or to splurge on a more deluxe version of something you were going to buy anyway. Like shampoo or lipstick. I have always struggled with confidence and my inner critic is a real bitch. The concept of self-care is relatively new to me and these gifts remind me to treat myself kindly.

One of the reasons we drink is in search of an ‘off’ switch: to quiet our brains, to escape responsibilities, to have ‘me’ time. If there are coping strategies that are adaptive (make things better) versus maladaptive (make things worse), then drinking is maladaptive. While it may be an off-switch, it creates many other problems at the same time. 

We are not taught, explicitly, how to deal with uncomfortable feelings, or how to self-soothe. So we reach for available tools, however malformed. Did your parents ever sit you down and have a conversation with you about what you can do if you feel overwhelmed, exhausted, irritated, freaked out, lonely, or depressed? Did they give you strategies and tools to help you with Changing the Channel in Your Head? No. Mine neither. Did they model for you how they dealt with disappointment, their feelings of not fitting in, or how they coped with the occasional overwhelming sense of dread? If they did model for you, was it with something other than cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, or a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken? Did your parents have ‘self-care’ time where they made it clear that they needed to recharge batteries, to unwind. Did they lock themselves in the tub with big mounds of lavender bubble bath and candles? Did your father go for a run when he was feeling stressed, or to delineate the mark between ‘work’ and ‘home’ and did he tell you he was doing this, explicitly, so that you could learn to do the same? No? 

in your first months sober, you will get a crash course in adaptive self-care strategies, whether you want it or not. One of the most important things you will do is learn to strategically avoid ‘overwhelm’—I use this word as a noun, it’s a thing on the horizon, like fog. Your life is like a video game. You can see potential bombs, things advancing, that could blow up and throw you off course. Your job is to navigate them. You don’t walk right into a bomb and hope for the best. You don’t test yourself by repeatedly doing difficult or stressful things. Instead, you ask someone to carpool, you decline social activities, and you simplify meals. Your job is to reduce overwhelm. All around you, there are lists of things to do and when you first quit drinking you are going to take it easy. When you first quit drinking, you are going to remember that being overwhelmed is our number one trigger. You will instead do less. Learn to be slothful. Embrace the art of underachieving.

Here are my top three tools for overwhelm: exercise, tub, and bed. I probably use exercise four times a week, specifically to help with my mood. I’m in the tub anytime I’m feeling antsy, or as my reward at the end of a day of catering. And as far as sleep is concerned, I have been known to go to bed at 7:30 p.m. in early sobriety, because I had no other way of dealing with life. I knew I didn’t want to drink, and I had no idea what else to do except ‘hide’.

When we are drinking, we use alcohol to fix everything—or so we think—and we don’t develop any other self-soothing, comforting, or change-the-channel tools. Turns out—who knew—there are at least 578 other ways to shift how you feel. There are things you’ve done before, perhaps by accident, things that once you remember them, and try them, you think “OK, good, I feel better.” Like when you change the sheets on the bed you feel better. And when you have a nap you feel better. And when you snuggle on the couch with a fluffy blanket and braid your cats’ tails together you feel better. Especially if you add hot chocolate. A change of location works. If you’re at home, go out. If you’re out, go home :) If you’re alone, get with some people. If you’re overwhelmed in a group, hide in the bathroom and read sober blogs on your phone. Yes, really.

I made a list of the ways to change my state. It had 30+ things on it. They included: listen to loud music, play guitar, sing, talk on the phone, write a letter longhand, take a bath with candles, light candles anywhere in the house, clean my desk, clean anything, go for a run, make tea, plan meals, test a recipe, read a magazine, brainstorm with clients, design a new logo, read light fiction, read self-help, make a puzzle, go for a walk, take pictures, go swimming, watch a good movie, go to a concert, go to see a movie at the theatre with popcorn, listen to podcasts, do volunteer work, find an audience and do some kind of public speaking, write in my journal, play cards, explore a new part of the city, go to the art gallery, the museum, write a restaurant review.

If you’re an introvert, or if you’re a non-joiner like I am, then asking for any kind of support or encouragement seems hard. But here’s the truth. The simple act of reaching out might make you feel weak, but it’s actually a sign of strength.

When Wolfie says that being sober sucks and that it’s too much to give up, you can remind him that you are also giving up the following: •  feeling like death in the morning •  waking at 3 a.m. with guilt and dread and horror •  vomiting •  spending dumb money (like money spent in bars, expensive bottles of wine in restaurants, buying rounds for people, impulse shopping online) •  emailing and texting random people •  hooking up with random people •  falling down •  hiding bottles •  arguing with your partner •  alternating stores so they don’t get to know you •  cringing when it’s time to take out the recycling. 

And here are a few of the things that you can focus on instead, the things you GET by being sober: •  you sleep through the night •  your skin looks great •  your health improves •  your marriage improves •  your kids talk to you again •  your family will now take your calls after 6 p.m. •  you can drive the car in the evening •  you have the beginnings of a hobby •  you can read a book and remember it •  you can watch a movie and stay awake for it •  you can actually cook the food in your fridge instead of eating popcorn for dinner •  you lift your head, look around, and feel like things are ‘possible’ •  you feel proud of yourself. 

Keep a short journal of your own, particularly for the first 60 days. By keeping a daily record you can see the grass grow. And you can more clearly identify that some periods of time are shitty but that they don’t last, and they’re followed swiftly by easier days. You can start your journal with this entry. Start with a list of 10 things: 1. The way I drink has affected my ___ 2. And my ___ 3. And my ___ 4. It’s caused problems with ___ 5. And ___ 6. It’s made me feel ___ especially when ___ 7. I nearly had a disaster when ___ 8. And this was just about a disaster too: ___ 9. I’m tired of waking up feeling like ___ 10. People who will be relieved that I am sober:  ___

It’s entirely possible to have sober fun, of course it is :) Those of us who are longer-term sober have plenty of fun. There’s nothing better than waking up without a hangover, without regret, without shame. There’s nothing better than being on a beach and being sober and watching a sunset. There’s nothing better than coming home at the end of a long night, or dancing until 4 a.m., knowing that you had a fabulous time, that you rocked it all without a drink. To think that you need alcohol to have fun is Wolfie talking. You were fun when you were 12 years old. You’ve had hilarious pee-your-pants laughing with your best friend and it didn’t involve alcohol. Wolfie tells you that kind of shit to encourage you to drink, but it’s not true. Can you dance sober? Turns out you can. Who knew.

If you are in prelapse, then you will want to do things right away that might make you feel better. Even if you have to try things mechanically, one after the other. You’ll say “I got enough sleep that didn’t work, had a nap that didn’t work, went for a run that didn’t work.” Then you go on to the next thing. You have a treat, that didn’t work. You watch bad TV, that didn’t work. You read blogs, write in your journal, comment on blogs, listen to audios, email somebody, reach out, go to a meeting, listen to something inspirational—you go through the toolkit. And here’s something that will seem obvious when I say it: If the first tool doesn’t work, it does not mean that the whole thing is hopeless. It means that you go on to the next tool. 

You are more likely to be successful if you: •  Reach out for support. It’s hard. Do it anyway. •  Sign up to have a sober penpal. Email your penpal every day. •  Share real stuff, don’t exaggerate, and don’t leave things out. Be truly honest with at least one person in your life about your booze stuff. •  Reach out instead of drink, cry instead of drink, walk instead, email me frustrated instead (the people who don’t email are more likely to get alone in their head with Wolfie who will always say that drinking is a good idea). •  Remember that successful treaters do MUCH better. It’s shocking how much better they do. Once you figure out the self-care treat thing, you’ll find this whole sober experience to be much easier. If you resist treats, don’t understand them, don’t think they apply to you, then I worry about you (see below). •  Get enough support, load on a lot to begin and then ease off as time goes by and you feel stable. Be cautious. Don’t fuck with sober momentum. •  Tell on Wolfie—share when you’re having weird thoughts, externalize the voice, tell on your inner addict. •  Read stuff that supports you and turn away from what doesn’t. You don’t read about moderation, you don’t read blogs that get under your skin, you turn away from people who repeatedly relapse if that makes you feel wobbly. •  Protect your sobriety, avoid situations and people that may trigger you. Your sobriety is a like a little chick that can easily get squished in traffic.

Write in a journal every day for your first 30 days sober, no matter what (can be private, or anonymous on a blog, doesn’t matter).

Read sober blogs at least one hour a day, every day.

Rethink your evening routine

Have a bath/shower every evening, early, so that it sets the mood for the rest of the night.

Plan and purchase replacement drinks that you can have during the witching hours. Bitter is better.

Schedule something to coincide with Wolfie time

Get yourself daily treats for the first two weeks, and then something every two days thereafter.

Get as much sleep as humanly possible. Take naps. You will need a lot more sleep than you anticipate.

Go to bed every time you feel crappy, when you feel you’re about to drink, or when you are agitated and need a time-out. Bed is a good, safe place to hide.

Sober first. If you push yourself too hard, and load on too many goals at once, Wolfie comes in with “this is all too hard.”

Pretend, for a while, that you’re sick, that you have the flu, that you need to take good care of you—very, very good care.

Try to do some kind of physical exercise every day, even if it’s only for 10 minutes

Rent/stream new TV shows and movies as your sober treats, that you can watch only if sober.

Give up any ideas of a clean and tidy house for now.

Please know that crying is totally normal, required, and necessary.

Take pictures of things that you’re grateful for now that you’re sober. It can be simple things like a good cup of coffee, the view from the window, your girls playing dress-up. You can do a sober photo project.

Avoid overwhelm as much as possible. In fact, strive for “underwhelm” and engage in some truly slothful behaviours. It’s OK to be in your jammies watching a show on your iPad. You’re sober. Sometimes bed-snuggle time is required.

Pet your cat, dog, or horse. You know already that this makes you feel better.

Listen to sober audio and podcasts. Find specific topics or episodes that resonate with you. Listen to them on repeat.

Accept that sober motivation is like deodorant: it needs to be reapplied every day. Stop feeling like you should be able to do this if you ‘try harder’. You will need to ‘try different’.

Ask for help.

Accept help.

Ask for and listen to advice from other successfully sober people.

See irritating people as people with struggles. We were irritating too. We were dealing with stuff that other people couldn’t see. Drop your shoulders and see that woman as lonely, or hurt, or needy. She’s not trying intentionally to make you crazy.

Share the nonsensical things that Wolfie tells you—share with another sober person who will truly ‘get it’. Be shocked and then amused that we all hear virtually the same thing.

Find some small activities to do in the evenings to help occupy the empty time. It doesn’t take long for regular life to flow back into the spaces that alcohol consumed, but to begin it’s helpful to have some projects. Decluttering is helpful. It’s cleaning up, from the outside in.

Have something you can wear, some special piece of jewelry, that reminds you that you’re sober and that you’re special. Rub the jewelry. Bestow it with super powers.

Find ONE person that you can be 100% honest with about your drinking, about your thinking, your worries, your struggles, your excitement, and your joy. That might be a counsellor, sober mentor, a coach, sponsor, or a sober friend. You should have at least ONE person who truly gets what it’s like to be you.

Accept that the first time you do everything, it’s going to be a little weird.

When you are facing a shitty hard thing, or a weirdly tempting event (like a staff party), then plan a sober treat you’ll have AFTER you’re home again, safe and sober. Don’t skip this step. Wolfie likes to come in with “where’s my reward” after we do something hard. So you want to remember to have these treats pre-planned.

Be pretty darn proud of yourself.

You have to celebrate your successes. No one is coming in to do this for you. It’s you. It’s up to you.

Walk out of your office, cross the street, have a cry, get a take-out coffee and a pastry, call it a sober treat, email me that you’re doing OK, and then go back to work. Even if you remove yourself ‘briefly’ from whatever situation is making you feel crazy, you can give yourself some time to settle and feel better.

Find tools that work and keep using them. Don’t drift from your sober supports. You know how people stop taking their blood pressure medication as soon as they feel better? Whatever you’re doing is working, so keep doing it. 

Know that Wolfie wants to get us alone in our head, where he can say: “Drinking seems like a good idea. You can probably have one.” Resist this kind of wolfie-solo-nonsense-manipulation by reaching out, telling on your inner addict. Wolfie is a bully and hates it when we share.

What you’re doing is for YOU. Your partner is on their own road. You can do what’s best for you.

[chu-ni]

miscommunication – ljn.

pairing: jeno x reader

genre: fluff, angst, royalty!au

word count: 19.6k (uff the most ive EVER written...)

warnings: jeno is a lil bit of a dickhead, sorry if the ending is a lil rushed bc i just wanted this fic GONE, hope its not as tedious for you to read as it was for me to write! this whole fic was inspired by this post! happy reading!

In a bid to preserve the future safety of their neighbouring kingdoms from the growing dangers of the northern empire, your parents, rulers of the southern isles, had you betrothed to the immediate heir of the southern mainland, Lee Jeno. You were 8 years old, and quite frankly didn't even know how to spell betrothal, let alone define it. True to tradition, Jeno, with his glasses, bowl cut, and stuffed cat toy came to stay with you for the next four years before he'd have to return to take up responsibilities as future ruler.

Upon first meeting, you thought Jeno was probably the nicest person you'd ever met, if a little boring. He was quiet, soft-spoken, giggly, and a little shy; you'd realised after he'd barely said more than 2 words to you that it would take you a while to bring him out of his shell. You dragged him on various mini adventures as kids (stealing cookies from the palace kitchens, watching the knights train from a bush just beyond the sparring grounds, playing in throne room and impersonating your parents when nobody else was there), and although at first he was reluctant, he became almost as bubbly and loud as you were -- while you preferred to live in the moment, saying and doing whatever you wanted, you were kids after all, he tended to think before he did things, always thinking about what could happen later on. In that sense, despite your differences, he became your moral compass of sorts, stopping you from being too reckless and bailing you out whenever you got into too much trouble. Did Jeno think he'd probably go bald before he turned 20 because of all the stress you put on him, whether that be you ditching tutoring to go climb trees and him reluctantly tagging along, or him having to practically drag you away from the stables before your parents found out and scolded you for the fourth time that week, or even that one time the two of you got locked in the kitchens at 3am with flour everywhere and the two of you had to clean it up and find somewhere to hide until the morning? Yes, and despite his constant state of anxiety and his frequent joking expression of his wish to go home already so he could finally get some peace and quiet, he still cared about you. Would probably jump in front of a carriage for you. Still considered you his best friend above all. Still appreciated you for bringing him out of his shell and changing him for the better. You and Jeno, as best friends would, spent all your time together. Getting married, the betrothal… it was in the backs of your minds, but at 11 ("Almost 12!!" "Shut up, Jeno,") years old, you liked to pretend you at least had the freedom to explore your romantic options (even if you both always managed to find flaws in every girl and boy. "His hair's too long," "She's too short!" "He looks mean," "She looks too nice,"), that you lived a different life, where royalty and alliances and all that jazz didn't exist for the pair of you. Where you were just two kids, two best friends who could do whatever they wanted and never have to worry about the consequences.  As much as you liked to pretend, however, it was just that. Pretend. An imaginary scenario that only went on for a limited amount of time before you inevitably had to return to reality. The two of you returned to reality 3 days before Jeno's 12th birthday, when your parents received a letter dating his return to the mainland. It was less than a week before he left you for,  well, ever. You had 5 days to say goodbye to your best friend, your closest confidant, your reluctant partner in crime. And you had no idea what to do. Jeno didn't like talking about leaving, so the two of you avoided the topic and hung out just as you'd always done.You were both in the library, his last day before he left, helping Jeno find a book he wanted when you brought up the topic. "Jeno." You murmur, stopping your search to look at him. At first glance, he seemed fine, but you knew he wasn't really. At least, you hoped he wasn't. Not in a bad way, no, never; but you hoped you'd made a strong enough bond as friends for him to feel something about leaving you for whoever knew how long. He replies with a nonchalant "Hm?", eyes still focused on the rows upon rows of literature in front of him. "Do you-" you clear your throat, trying to build confidence. "Do you think we'll see each other again?" He's silent for a moment, lips pouting and eyes to the ceiling, as if in thought, before stating, with confidence: "I know we will." You're not fully convinced, and it must show because the way Jeno smiles as brightly as possible calms your worrying heart. Jeno leaves the next morning, and you say goodbye with a tight hug that Jeno is 53% sure is the reason he wouldn't stop coughing on the boat home, and a pinky promise to write to each other every day, week, month, and so forth. He makes you promise not to cry. You break it as soon as he boards. You keep breaking it every night he's gone for the next 3 weeks, after which your parents are basically forcing you to make new friends. They've arranged playdates, tea parties, dances, balls; but absolutely nobody was going to replace Jeno, which is exactly what you thought your parents were trying to do and as such you made every effort not to let that happen. Did you deliberately cause trouble? Yes. Did you think Jeno would agree with what you were doing? No, but you were doing it for him and you were sure he'd understand anyway. So the next 2 months are littered with failed playdates, ruined tea parties, messy dances, and disgraceful balls, and even though you felt a little bad when you overheard your parents relentlessly apologising to the other adults, a bigger part of you was happy you wouldn't have to talk to any more stuffy noble children. At least not for the foreseeable future. It was only when your parents gave up trying to make you make friends that you, ironically, made one. You met Haechan while exploring ("Trespassing, more like," "Shut up, Haechan!") the knights' quarters one day. You'd overheard shouting and insults, so you peeked through one of the doors to see a kid who looked around your age, eyes pinned to the floor and fists clenched at his sides as the imposing man who stood in front of him spewed swear words and other things  you weren't sure you could repeat anywhere else. At that, you immediately stepped in to defend the boy, using your status to take Haechan back up to your own quarters in the palace, where the two of you properly spoke, or at least tried to before a handmaid had burst into your room, panting slightly, saying you'd both been summoned by your parents to the throne room, at which point your heart had leapt into your throat. The throne room, much like the rest of the palace, was lined with windows to let as much light in as possible. The walls were a pastel yellow, with paintings of previous rulers across the walls, and the floor was covered with rugs various shades of verdant green. The thrones themselves were nothing special; the only thing that denoted their specialty was the engraving of your family crest at the top of them. Seated upon them were, of course, your parents. Your mother was tall, lithe, and with an imposing gaze she often intimidated those she came into contact with. Behind all that, however, she was the goofy mother who'd sung made up lullabies to you as a child, who'd laughed when you stamped everything in your parents study with the royal seal, who'd nearly jumped out of her skin when you used flour to 'teleport' in front of her at the age of 6; she just hid it very well. Your mother had always taught you the importance of controlling your emotions, given you irreplaceable advice on the topic, advice you rarely ever put to use, but took in anyway. Your father, by contrast, was short -- well, not that short, but most people looked short when put next to your mother -- on the heavier side, with a trimmed beard and an open smile. Contrary to your mother, he was often the stricter, more disciplined one of the two. He nagged you often, something you didn't think you'd ever not find annoying, but he had your best interests at heart. The two of them, with their almost opposing personalities, made a good match for each other, and you saw the love they had for one another every day; with the way they looked into one another's eyes, the way your father, even with his short stature, would step in front of your mother at the first sign of her feeling threatened, the way they worked together to solve every problem that ever appeared like magic, and you wished someone would look at you like that one day. You and Haechan, gazes fixed to the floor and hearts beating so fast you were sure anyone in a 50 mile radius could hear them, both trembled slightly as your father, who you'd hoped wouldn't be the one scolding you today, let his voice, low and commanding, travel across the room. "Y/N," His tone is expectant, quiet in volume, and you know what that means. You look up at him, and although he appears straight faced, the slight scowl and squint of his eyes betrays his annoyance. You could tell this was going to be another long-winded lecture. "Do you know why you've been summoned here?" He continues, re-adjusting himself to be more comfortable. You mumbled a reply, hating the fact that Haechan would be witnessing what was basically a daily occurrence. He says your name again in warning, and you speak up this time. "….My insolence," At that, he descends into a tirade that you stopped taking seriously once he mispronounced one of his words, at which you and Haechan made amused eye contact and hadn't stopped doing since. You tuned in and out of his rant catching bits of the same old same old story about "Fixing your manners!" And staying out of "Knightly affairs," until  your father couldn't be bothered to speak any more and simply brought in the knight you'd scolded yourself earlier. At much pressure from your father and mother, you apologised, not without gritting your teeth and sending an icy glare your father's way. Seeing as your father had summoned both you and Haechan to the throne, you'd naturally assumed he'd also be scolded, but you had to fight your jaw dropped when your father simply apologised to Haechan for the whole affair and sent him on his way. He was midway through opening the door to exit when you interrupted, "But father--" he'd raised a hand to cut you off, already being done with the conversation. "Who is the princess here, Y/N?" You snarled a "Me," under your breath, a part of you knowing you'd lost the argument before it'd even started. "So that makes it your responsibility to control yourself around others." He turned to go, before whirling back around, a finger pointed directly at you. "Especially the knights, damn it!" At that, he left, your mother following behind him, leaving you alone in the throne room. You waited till they were out of sight before releasing a frustrated groan, trudging back to your room, desperate for some alone time to sulk in your own emotions. You groan again when you find Haechan reading through one of your books on economic development (not like you'd ever read it anyways), not even bothering to acknowledge you until you stamp over to him and snatch the damn thing out of his hands, "Don't touch my stuff." You hiss. He pouts, disappointed, before rolling his eyes. "Thanks," he sighs, blasé. "For earlier." You open your mouth to reply, but judging by how he gingerly sits at the edge of your bed, you wait for him to continue. "If you hadn't come in then I probably would've said something I'd regret, and then my parents would be super mad, and then I'd probably have to start something stupid, like alchemy or something. God, I hate alchemy--" As bad of a mood as you were in, you couldn't help but to laugh. His deadpan yet relatable way of expressing himself reminded you of yourself a little, and you smiled softly to yourself. The sound of him whispering an accomplished "Yes!" under his breath causes you to look up at him in question. "That's what I wanted." His gaze softens as his eyes fall on yours, "You looked a lot worse before. I didn't think it was fair, given what you did for me. So that was my way of saying thanks." The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, you also noticing that Haechan's gotten more comfortable on your bed, as you both stare at the ceiling. You break the silence a little while later. "You're welcome." You'd originally planned to end the conversation there and go back to staring at the increasingly mundane ceiling of your room so you could seem cool and aloof, but you had a feeling Haechan wasn't the kind of person to care about things like that. "And….thank you, also." The tables turn. This time, it's Haechan who's looking at you, brows furrowed, lips curled, in question. "I'm not very good at knowing when to shut up, which you've probably noticed," he visibly scoffs at that, and you playfully glare at him in return. "I'm not very good at acting like a princess, either, so I find it hard to relate to other people in my, um, circle?" You question, mainly asking yourself, but he interjects anyway.  "Don't you have any friends?" You swallow, gritting your teeth. "I was getting to that," Embarrassed, Haechan slowly turns to face the window to his left. You sigh before continuing, "Anyway, I had a friend, but he moved away. And I hate the other noble kids; they're all the same, with their ugly clothes and weird hairstyles and the fact  that they're only nice to me when their parents are around--which is barely, by the way-- and how stupid they all are--" Haechan has turned back to look at you at some point during your rant, and there's a mysterious glint in his eyes as he smirks at you. "You're funny. Like me," he studies you for a second, his smirk growing into a grin. "We should talk more sometime," He sighs, then stretches as he stands from his position on your bed. He says nothing as he opens the door, turns to wave at you, and then disappears, closing the door behind him. To say you were a little confused was an understatement. Not only had you inadvertently revealed more about yourself than you'd learned from him in an attempt to get him to open up, your kind-of acquaintance had also simply up and left in the middle of your conversation. Haechan kept to his word of talking more to you, though, as he'd come to find you whenever his assigned knight (who'd been switched to someone nicer after the incident) gave him a break. Over time you'd managed to find out more about him; that he was born and raised a noble, but had always wanted to be a knight, so had begun his squire training this year in the palace -- it was why you'd never seen him before then, that he  was actually a lot like you but a little more ("A lot," "Shut up, Y/N!") sharper-tongued. He liked to express himself through jokes and humour, which was a plus as all the time you spent  shedding tears of laughter helped take your mind off of Jeno's departure. Like you, Haechan liked to talk about anything and everything-- sometimes this led to irritation between the two of you because you both always had something important to say and you were both the only people who'd listen -- but you liked hearing what he'd talk about as you knew you'd learn something new from him every time. You meet your second new friend at your 13th birthday ball, something you vehemently opposed the second you heard the idea…except you didn't hear the idea, you were just told it was happening 2 hours before it was supposed to start. To make matters worse, you didn't even have the energy or the time to try and sabotage it given the fact that your parents had someone watching over you at all times, be it a handmaid, a guard, a servant; practically anyone your parents could get their hands on. The ball itself wasn't even that bad, even though you'd never say that out loud. The ballroom was decorated to look like the sun your people worshipped so much; fabrics of yellow and gold were draped across the room in every hue; tables were filled to the brim with fruits, confectionery, and other foods you couldn't pronounce the name of. Musicians were seated in the corner of the room, playing pieces you recognised from your lessons but never really remembered all that well. Did you appreciate the effort? Yes. Did you care for it all, though? Absolutely not. To make matters worse, there was no sign of your current confidant, Haechan, anywhere -- the whole place seemed to have been populated with the same noble children you hated and their equally as annoying parents. Leaving clearly wasn't an option, given the servant currently offering drinks was doing a really bad job at subtly watching you from their position within the group of noble parents. Sighing, you left the buffet table and all of its tasty comforts to explore the floor, taking great care to avoid the group of obnoxious 13 year olds in the centre of the room.  

You'd be lying if you said you discovered some amazing secret that would change your life forever in between the designated tables and their vases filled with flowers, the overwhelmingly sweet smell of which was beginning to give you more than a headache. Almost the entirety of the ballroom was the same no matter where you went-- the same old stuffy adults in one corner, the  same stuffy disrespectful kids your age in another, the member of staff assigned to you changing every quarter of an hour the only constant, ironically. If anything, you'd say the only thing you'd discovered during the increasingly painful amount of time you'd been here was the fact that you hated birthday balls, and you would be all too happy if someone told you you never had to have one again. Uncaring for whoever it was that was watching you this time, you storm towards the exit, a scowl marring your features. Someone's arm slinging itself over your shoulder and a slightly terrified whisper of "Keep walking, please," spurs you on for the moment, but when you successfully get out of the ballroom (to your own surprise), you fling the arm off your shoulder, stop walking and whirl to face your temporary escapee. Judging by the boyish timbre of his voice earlier, you'd expected someone a little different than whatever the kid currently sheepishly grinning at you was. He was dressed in robes that looked like they'd come from somewhere far away; his face was both adorable and yet belied almost the same air of mischief you'd noticed around Haechan upon your first meeting with him, but there was something different about this one. Unconsciously, your eyes narrowed as you studied him some more, failing to notice the fact that his previous grin had dropped, been replaced by a concerned gaze. You also failed to notice that his mouth had been moving for quite some time now; it's his hand, again on your shoulder, that breaks you out of your trance. "Hello? Are you okay?" He shakes you slightly and you nod before he can cause too much of a fuss. This time, you didn't really care to know who the unnamed boy was or why he'd even snuck out with you in the first place, thoughts of finding Haechan and ranting to him the at the forefront of your mind, but the boy decided to tell you anyway. You'd begun walking, hoping he'd get the hint that you had somewhere to be, but he simply fell into step beside you, continuing his life story. When you bothered to tune in, your mind still set on finding Haechan, and giving little hums here and there to at least give off the vibe you were listening to your unwanted guest, you'd found out a multitude of things. One, that he'd come from the Eastern continent, somewhere you'd only read about in the few books you liked reading, and that he was rich enough to practically be royalty. Two, that the succession crisis over there and the accession of the new ruler caused his family to move to the southern isles to avoid persecution. Three, that his parents own a "nice restaurant in town. You should visit sometime!" Oh, and four. The kid just wouldn't shut up. But you could've guessed that from the moment he started talking anyway. You also found out he was younger than you  "Wait," you're cut off by Haechan, eyes widened in recognition. "You're Zhong Chenle? That kid with the huge house?" You look over to Chenle, analysing his reaction "It's not that huge, I mean--" Haechan cuts him off again, and you tune out of the conversation as soon as they start talking about Chenle's apparent neighborhood popularity. You never do find out why Chenle wanted to leave that party so badly, and the thought of asking always slips your mind. What you do know, is that you see Chenle around a lot more often, but that's only cause after trying some of his mom's restaurant's food you haven't been able to stop making orders to the palace for it. There had to be something in that braised beef of hers that made it so addictive, and Chenle delivering it was a plus, cause it meant the three of you could talk and do whatever for as long as you wanted. So you had friends, at long last. The three of you grow up and mature together, Chenle, offering knowledge far beyond his years despite him being the youngest of the three of you, Haechan, getting a lot better at holding his tongue and being less mischievous, and you, though still a little rebellious at times, have managed to ultimately, tone it down. You still stress out your tutor, Taeyong though-- every time you trick him into letting you go early from your lessons and he finds you in the midst of climbing some tree with Chenle, or beginning to mount a horse with Haechan when you really should be studying he swears he loses more and more years off his life. You're less outspoken, more articulate when you speak; You choose your battles more carefully now, instead of blowing up whenever you disagree with someone -- by around a year or so, and called Chenle. During the course of your one sided conversation, punctuated by monotonous hums of agreement from you here and there, you found yourself in front of Haechan's quarters at long last. Unsurprisingly, Chenle followed after you, even as you opened the door to find him half dressed. "Oh my-- Do you know how much I hate it when you do that!?" Startled, Haechan drops to a crouch, trying to salvage some modesty. "You're acting like I haven't seen it before," you sigh, dragging your tired feet over to his bed, flinging yourself down onto it and closing your eyes. Pulling his tunic over his shorts, dragging a palm down his face, he snaps, "That's when it's just you, idiot," he nods at Chenle to come further in (the poor boy had been awkwardly standing in the doorway throughout your exchange,) "At least let me know if you're going to bring guests." He whines, sitting directly on your stomach, using as much force as possible. "Haechan you-- Ow!" You wheeze, the breath knocked out of you. Struggling against the fabrics of your dress, you finally manage to shove him off, kicking him in the process, and not missing the red tinge to Chenle's face and his extremely poor attempt at hiding his laughter. You look to Haechan, glaring, and see him smirking back at you; you make a note to beat him up properly for it later. You take a deep breath, willing your annoyance away, and introduce the two. "Haechan, this is Chenle, Chenle, this is--"  that doesn't mean you don't still rip people to shreds if they have a wrong opinion, though (Your parents are still apologising to the western continent's representative after you cursed him out over his 'inflammatory comments', ( "He said women were inferior beings and that it was amazing I could read, given my smaller brain, mother!" "I don't care what he said, Y/N. he is a guest of ours and you will respect his beliefs!" "….") Jeno, while back home, matured as well. He chilled out (he's still a little weird, but only around his friends) in the sense that he's kind to everyone, respectful to everyone, the epitome of the perfect prince; because he has to be. His parents were stricter than yours were, exponentially so due to the growing threat of the northern continent. And although he finds the continuous prim and proper prince act a little tiring at times, and wishes he could be himself (A goofy, weird, sometimes airheaded, huge cat-lover) all the time, he knows his parents would never allow it ( "That's not how a prince should behave, Jeno."). As a result,  he's secretly irritated a lot of the time, anger bubbling beneath the surface. No-one would ever know, though; he's just that good at hiding it (Until, of course, he meets you again 6 years later and snaps at you by accident). As the years went past, you'd never really forgotten Jeno; in fact, you still thought of him from time to time-- but it was a lot less than when he first left. You'd first exchanged letters every week, but as time passed and the two of you became busier and busier, him with his preparations to be king and you with your own preparations to take over, the letters went from weekly, to monthly, to barely any at all. Sometimes he'd cross your mind and you'd wonder how he was doing, what he looked like, whether he'd grown even taller, if he was still the same old giggly boy you'd dragged around the palace 6 years ago -- but then Chenle or Haechan would be doing something that you just had to see -- and the thought would be gone. You didn't think Jeno would be returning to your corner of the southern isles any time soon, anyway. Life on the southern mainland, for Jeno, at least was hopelessly, mind-numbingly, boring. Those 4 years he'd spent in the southern isles had gone too fast for him, for now he was stuck back with his controlling parents that never let him just be, and it only got a little better the older he got. Jeno had returned home, to his bland room with its white walls and paintings of old men the only decoration his parents would allow. He'd been practically thrown in the deep end when it came to his royal duties; he was supposed to greet this lady, bow to this lord, smile at this diplomat, pretend, pretend, pretend -- because emotions were never becoming of a prince, of a 'future king'. He'd come to hate those 2 words in coming years. -- Seoyoung was the closest thing to a replacement version of you that Jeno could get. It had been a year since he'd forced himself back into the perfect box his parents had always  pressured him to fit into, a year since his unwanted goodbye to freedom and the Southern Isles. The letters exchanged with you had slowly but surely died out, and being left with your own company in a palace as big as the one he lived in was like his own personal hell. Being forced to be a certain way all the time, never being allowed to truly express emotion, along with a clear lack of understanding from his already closed off parents had led to him slipping away from the high walls of the palace and out into the bustle of the local towns beyond. It was there, after running away from some moody teenagers he'd unwittingly bumped into, hiding in the nearest open door available to him, that he'd met her. "Hey!" Jeno whips round, chest still heaving, back pressed into the wooden ridges of the door he'd just shut. "Who the hell are you," she growls, advancing towards him with a pan that looked more and more threatening by the second, "And what are you doing in my house?" Soon enough,  he can feel the cool edge of the pan pressed into his neck, and, grimacing, he pleads, "Please, please don't kill me," and he hates how he very loudly whimpers as the girl presses the pan deeper. Her laugh, a tiny giggle that sounds like addictive music to his ears, changes the mood. “Relax,” she snickers, a sly tear coming out of her eye, “I’m not gonna kill you! What kind of person do you think I am?” She’s thrown her head back now, laughing louder, and Jeno can’t find it in himself to get angry. “I wouldn’t know?” he probes, "We just met, so.." Jeno peels himself off the door, standing awkwardly as the girl drags a chair, flinging herself onto it. Rubbing her eyes, trying to calm down, she asks, "Seriously. Why are you in my house." "Oh, I just, like, bumped into the wrong group of people.... I guess I got on their bad side, cause they chased me through town. This was the nearest open door to hide." She starts laughing again, and Jeno's confused once more. His explanation wasn't *that* funny, was it?  And the longer she laughed, the more he was beginning to suspect Seoyo was laughing *at* him, not at what he said. He didn't know how that made him feel, but it wasn't good. "I can't believe," she wheezes, "You got chased...by Minho's gang!" she sputters. "Are you new here or something? Everyone knows Minho and his crew are a bunch of boneheads, they were probably just playing with you," Upon reflection, perhaps the smiles those 'moody teenagers' were sporting as they followed him were less menacing and more...welcoming. But he wasn't going to take his chances either way. "So what if I am new here?" He retorts, "They didn't look very friendly when they starting running after me down the street!" She looks at him for a long moment, before mocking his words and laughing again. "Hey!"  he snaps, but his voice breaks as he says it and it sounds more like a childish whine.

Pushing herself off the chair, she begins rummaging through cupboards and drawers, pulling out various ingredients as she goes. "You must be hungry," she snickers, but she can tell that any more of her incessant mockery would genuinely offend him, so keeps it to a minimum. "Sit down, and I'll make you something to eat." Tentatively, Jeno sits at the table, round, chipped at the edges, and worn from years of use. An aroma soon fills the air, drifting to his nose. Whatever it was, it smelled better than any of the stuff from the palace kitchens- and when she placed the bowl of soup and vegetables in front of him, it tasted much better, too. "So, where are you from?" He chokes on a carrot. "You said you moved here recently, right? Where from?" Now, it was at this point where Jeno hated the fact that he was never that great at lying, because he now needed to come up with a believable backstory and actually stick to it without giving  himself away as the freaking crown prince, for goodness sake. "An island." He states, and hopes she'll be satisfied with that.

"Near the, uh," he downs a spoonful of soup to buy thinking time, "the Southern Isles?" Sounding confused was definitely not going to look believable, but he still prayed to all the gods in the universe, even the ones he didn't believe in, to help him out here. Just this once.  "Okay," she sounds suspicious, he notices, but he's thankful enough she doesn't press further and leaves the thought at that. "I'm Seoyoung," and Jeno inwardly screams as he knows what question is coming next, "What's your name?" What was his name? Meaning, what was his fake name going to be? Like an idiot, he almost gives himself away, "I'm Jen-- Jen. Yeah, Jen." He can practically feel the disbelief in her expression, and quickly goes back to the soup to avoid her gaze. "What about your surname?" 'Are you serious?' Is what he wants to say, but plays along for the sake of hiding his identity. "Uh," he notices the material of the table, and blurts out a "Wood. Jen Wood."

"So your name is Jen...Wood." "Yes." She sighs, gets up to wash her own bowl, and shakes her head. "I didn't think you'd lie for that long." Yeah, he's busted. "I know you're the prince, by the way. Nobody eats soup with a spoon around here unless they're a noble, and you gave yourself away when you basically said your name, Prince Jeno."

His shoulders sag, half in relief, and half in an apathetic resignation to the fact that now that she knew who he was, so would everyone else. And then word would reach his parents that he'd snuck out of the palace and he'd have to say goodbye to any sliver of a chance at freedom until he either ascended the throne or died before then.  "Do you think, you could, like, maybe, not tell anyone?" Being unsure of yourself and not even putting up a fight was not how his mother had taught him to negotiate, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "Please?" He begs. "I won't say a word. In fact, you were never here," Oh, yes! Freedom was still a possibility- "On one condition." Never mind. "You keep coming here. To see me." Honestly speaking, there was no true reason why Jeno would have to go see Seoyoung on a regular basis, aside from avoiding the wrath of his parents, but even so, hanging out with her more often seemed like an attractive concept on its own. So he agreed. "It's a deal," and it was. From that point on, Seoyoung became his, well, your, replacement. He finally had a friend he could pour out his emotions to, one that wasn't handpicked by his parents to make worthwhile connections with, who he could be the same Jeno from the Southern Isles with, not the uptight prince from the Mainland. The addition of Jaemin, the son of rich merchants who sometimes made Jeno question why he was a prince when Jaemin seemed so much better suited, and Renjun, a noble who understood Jeno's struggles even if he was a little too blunt for his liking,  altogether made Jeno, for the first time in a long time, feel at home in his own home. And so life continued like that; going out with Jaemin and Renjun to meet with Seoyoung. Games of tag and hide and seek in the woods soon turned into intense chess battles, mock swordfights, in depth discussions about literature, learning more about the subjects Jeno would soon rule over - there wasn't a single way life could get any better. It's the end of a day spent just with Seoyoung for Jeno. They're sat in their usual spot, across from each other on the same wooden table they had their first meeting on. A candle, mid-burnt, sits in the middle, its wavering light hitting all the right points on her face. Her eyes, a warm brown, are illuminated, her hair, a deep burgundy, looking so silken Jeno's afraid to even breathe in its direction so as not to disturb it, and the curve of her lips, forever locked in a halfway point between the smirk he's grown to love so much and a simple pout, look more appealing now than they ever have done. Locking eyes with her, he moves the candle to one side and leans in, asking for consent. There's a nod of her head and a coy wink and suddenly his lips are on hers and it feels so, so amazing- and then she pushes him away.

"You're a prince, Jeno. We can't do this," she whispers. "What if someone sees you?" He looks at her for a long moment, throwing all thoughts of you out of his mind. Who knew when he'd see you again anyways?  "I don't care," he grins, "I'm here with you now, and that's all that matters." He leaves Seoyoung's house that night with swollen lips and a heart so light it could float off into the distance and Jeno wouldn't even notice. He arrives home, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide, parading around his chambers like a lovesick fool, when he sees it. Sealed with the usual blue wax stamp of his parents, resting on his desk, lies an envelope. Tentatively, he opens it, skim reading the contents until he finds the sentence that shocks him so much he has to read it twice: 'You shall be returning to the Southern Isles within the next 3 days. Prepare accordingly.' After removing all thoughts of you from his mind, the memories he has with you return like opened floodgates. The heaviest thing on his mind is how to tell you about  Seoyoung- the right thing, the noble thing to do would be to break up with her - but that would break her heart, and telling you about her would break yours. He could always not say anything and spare both of you the pain...Yes. Yes, he could do that. He was going to do that. -- When you got the news that Jeno would be returning to your kingdom, you were, not to sound like a cheesy young adult novel or anything, beside yourself with excitement. You'd rushed to your chambers upon hearing the news, penning letter after letter while also throwing letter after letter away,  just until you could find exactly the right words to greet him with. When you received your first letter back from him - your first letter back from him in a long time - you could practically feel through his familiar and yet different messy scrawl just how much he'd changed. Personality wise, that was. You had to admit that the only image you had of Jeno was the bright eyed, quiet little 12 year old you'd waved goodbye to 6 years prior, so you'd envisioned that image when writing to him. When you formally greeted him in the throne room of your palace,  though, you were most definitely surprised, to say the least. 

Gone was the Jeno whose height you'd always make fun of - now he was taller, had grown into his features - which had gone from rounded cheeks and a soft profile to harsher lines, a defined jawline and an aura that gave off the feeling that he was now more royal than anything else.  He was lean yet built, his previous bowl cut, now changed into straight black locks, strands of which fell across his forehead in the best way you could imagine. You were sure that if you looked up the definition of 'prince' in a dictionary, a picture of Lee Jeno would be right beneath it. The fact that you were betrothed to him had never been an important aspect of your thoughts, never something you even deigned to think about, but when he looked like that, you were beginning to enjoy the prospect of seeing him every day in your near future. You walk up to him and curtsey, trying your best to fight the grin arising on your face. "Your Highness," you breathe, eyes sparkling. "Princess," he nods, one corner of his mouth turning up into a half smile, while you try your hardest to ignore the sudden increase in your heart rate. His eyes, a warm chocolate brown, were so intoxicating  could stare into them forever, and for what felt like it, you did. You took a step forward, but a quick eyebrow raise from Jeno and a nudge to your side by your mother soon reminds you of your apparent duties as a host, guiding your betrothed to his rooms being one of them. On the way there, you ask him as many questions as you can; how he's been, what he's been up to, what friends he made - but his answers are all short sentences and one worded, a haughty mix of 'yeses', 'no's' and 'I don't know's'. Sneaking a sideways glance at him, you wondered when he'd become so closed off. His expression looks downcast and yet apathetic; like he'd rather be anywhere else than here. You ask him if he received your last letter, and he barely replies with anything more than a noncommittal "Mm." The walk continues, silent and uncomfortable, and when you do finally arrive at his chambers he storms in without a thanks or a goodbye. You're left confused, unsettled, and more than a little hurt. After all, this was supposed to be 2 best friends reuniting at last, not two strangers meeting for the first time. Dinner goes worse.  Multiple times you try to make conversation and multiple times he letter away,  just until you could find exactly the right words to greet him with. When you received your first letter back from him - your first letter back from him in a long time - you could practically feel through his familiar and yet different messy scrawl just how much he'd changed. Personality wise, that was. You had to admit that the only image you had of Jeno was the bright eyed, quiet little 12 year old you'd waved goodbye to 6 years prior, so you'd envisioned that image when writing to him. When you formally greeted him in the throne room of your palace,  though, you were most definitely surprised, to say the least.  completely ignores you. You look at your parents, who are engaged in their own conversation, and you roll your eyes - at how oblivious they are not to notice their own 'son-in-law's actions, and how frustrated you are at said son-in-law as well. You go to sleep that night even more confused, and you wake up disgruntled and unimpressed. At breakfast, you attempt to make eye contact with him sat directly across from you only for him to, again, blatantly ignore you. Clearly irritated, you stab at your food, making your emotions (however childish) known. "Y/N, do you have something to say?" Your intense eating caught the attention of your parents, while the one person's attention you wanted was still engrossed in his meal. Great. "No, Father. Just hungry." You try your best to control your tone, not in the mood for another lecture about your attitude at dinner. While they had become less frequent over the years as you matured, times like these, where your temper got the best of you, still arose. "It doesn't look as though you are just hungry. What have I told you about your attitude when eating, Y/N?" ...This couldn't be serious. Much to your distaste, your mother decides to join the conversation, "You should really try to be a little more considerate, Y/N. It's not polite to be so... aggressive around your betrothed." Knowing your mother to be the more relaxed one of your parents, it's hard to say you don't feel a little betrayed at her taking your father's side. Luckily, your father changes the subject and you hold back sighing in relief. "Speaking of aggression, have you heard about the Northern Empire's movements lately?" "Ah- yes, I did hear from one of my advisers - their leader is claiming one of the western border towns as their own - troops are already stationed there, apparently," You look between your parents as your mother shakes her head, running her fingers through her perfectly styled hair, the crease in your father's brow deepening as he frowns in worry. "It seems the the threat of the Northern Empire is manifesting sooner than we thought, dear." The Empire's occupation of the Western border towns meant it would only be a matter of time before they invaded the Southern Mainland, and soon enough the Isles - bad news for you, and even worse for Jeno. "The question is now, what to do before we find them at our doorstep - Y/N, what are your thoughts?" You clear your throat before speaking. "Wouldn't the obvious thing be to send diplomats to work out a deal, but prepare troops at home for when they do arrive?" It made sense in your mind; you had the best of both worlds - peaceful talks with protection if worst came to worst.  Your father shakes his head, pursing his lips. "That would take money, resources, and most importantly, time." Looking towards you, he adds, "Time we don't have!" For emphasis. Your lips curl, annoyed at his blatant shutdown of what you thought was a great plan, but school your features into neutrality when he glares at you briefly. "What do you think, Jeno? This is a matter that concerns you the most, after all." Your ears prick up at the mention  of his name, mildly intrigued to hear his take - if he even bothered to reply. "I actually agree with Y/N," he says. You hear your mother squeal in joy and fight to keep the cringe off your face. "Darling, how cute," she whispers, "Husband and wife agreeing with each other!" Your father coos along with her, while you look on, unimpressed. You look across to see Jeno blush, and are pleasantly surprised to see that even after 6 years, he still blushes just the same as he used to -- eyes cast down, lips turned up in a shy smile, hand reaching to run through his hair before it stops mid air and falls down again, anxious not to ruin it. Breakfast finishes with no further interruption- that is, until your parents stop the two of you as you're leaving to recommend (read: force) you both to take a walk through the gardens to see how things have changed. -- He's ignoring you. Again. Why you thought there'd be a sudden change in the pattern of Jeno blatantly blindsiding you every time you were alone was beyond you, but the feeling doesn't get any less uncomfortable every time he does it. Having had enough, you pull to one side, the force almost throwing the two of you off balance and into some bushes, but you ask - no, demand - just what exactly his problem is, and his reply isn't what you expect. "I don't have a problem, Y/N." Oh, please. "Someone who doesn't have a problem wouldn't pretend their childhood friend doesn't exist after not seeing them for 6 years, Jano," You hiss, "So I'll ask again. What is your problem with me? What have I done?" You hate the pleading lilt that infects the tone of your voice in the second question, and you hate that you can't help it when he still looks so stoic. His expression breaks though, shoulders sagging for what you notice is the first time since his arrival, a defeated sigh leaving his lips. "You didn’t do anything, Y/N,". "I- I guess I'm just used to acting a certain way back home-- it's hard to adjust," "You were never like this before," "That was then. This is now."

You felt a sense of regret at not sending more letters after Jeno left - as his best friend, you should've done more to let him confide in you. Then, at least, you wouldn't have this uneasy feeling in your chest that you needed to get to know him all over again. "Sorry, though." He continues, "For acting so cold towards you - I guess I was taking out my frustration at always having to be a certain way out on you - you didn't deserve that." "I know we haven't really spoken for a long while, but I'm still your best friend. You can tell me anything." There's a look shared between you both, and you get the feeling that Jeno understands. "You're in my kingdom, now, not yours. Things are different here, remember?" You tease, lightly nudging him with your elbow. The two of you chuckle at that and continue walking, simultaneously falling into step and into the easy, free flowing conversation you'd wanted to have since he'd arrived, It's dotted with reminiscing and head thrown back laughs at old inside jokes - and it's finally like nothing had changed. You listen in rapt wonder as he goes into depth about the adventures him and 2 other boys named Jaemin and Renjun go on, you smile in adoration as he describes his 3 favourite cats he's forced to keep in the servants quarters due to his allergies and the wrath of his parents if they discovered 'vermin' in the palace, as they described it, and you heave a sigh of nostalgia as he complains about not being able to have intense flour battles in the palace kitchens in the early hours of the morning, like the 2 of you used to, when he was here. He listens in content as you tell him about the situations that led you to meet Chenle and Haechan, as you giggle to yourself while describing them, watches the way your expression lights up as you tell him about all the new hobbies you'd picked up, the new places you'd discovered and had quickly marked as yours, and jumps as you grab his wrist and drag him along, through winding paths and bushes of flowers sculpted into arches, into an open spot, surrounded by flora. The vibrance of them almost blinds him, their beauty enough to render anyone speechless. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" You smile at him, pleased at the astonished look in his eyes. "I come here when I want to relax," you continue, understanding his silence. "It's amazing," he breathes, before looking at you with a smile so bright it throws you a little. When you grab his wrist a second time to lead him to other places, the slip of his hand into yours doesn't go unnoticed. -- Jeno was only meant to be staying for a few months this time before it was your turn to visit his lands for the impending wedding. The past 2 months of his stay, although awkward at first, had been just like old times, with the exception of various instances that were more reminiscent of a couple and less of 2 best friends. 

It was one instance in particular, though, that signified a shift in the air between the two of you. It was humid in the city - the air hot and sticky and the typical royal wear the two of you wore, although thin, seemed to exacerbate the uncomfortable feeling that dominated you both. You'd been sent on an outing through the town to greet the people and make a good impression, as your father had put it, for once leaving his study to speak to the both of you. The humidity you felt wasn't just because of the weather, though - for the entirety of your walk, every face you smiled at, every conversation you made, every cat you'd be forced to stop and pet - Jeno's hand had been firmly clasped in yours. The only time you were apart was when Jeno had left to 'get something'. What it was, you didn't know. Walls painted a pure white to reflect as much sunlight as possible, Shelves around the shop filled with touches of domesticity - a picture here, a souvenir there - and the slightly irritating smell of the flowers, displayed around the room in bouquets of varying sizes are what welcomed Jeno as he stepped into the flower shop. The florist, a middle aged lady with a twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile, waves as Jeno walks in, him nodding in return as the two make small conversation before she turns to work. "Take good care of her," she calls, busying herself with various bits and bobs here and there, shaking Jeno out of his brief gaze around the store. "I swear to," He replies, running his fingers over the petals of the various bouquets. "Are you sure? The people would have your head if you didn't." He turns to face the florist. Her back is towards him, but her tone of voice commands his attention. It's a beat too long before he replies. "Of course I'm sure!" He smiles, as wide as his cheeks sill let him - the florist turns to face him, her expression mimicking his. He hopes her eyes, seemingly searching for something in his gaze, don't notice the guilty pang in his chest. She seems satisfied with whatever she finds there, breaking the stare and taking a weight off Jeno's shoulders as a result. Busying herself compiling flowers together,  a bouquet, she speaks again. "Y/N..." she begins  forming a bouquet , picking flowers here and there to add to it. "She's like a beacon to us, you know? She's our princess," the florist pauses for a second, looking nostalgic. "When she was born, the country celebrated for 3 days and nights. I still remember it like it was yesterday." He can see her eyes getting glassy, and he hesitates whether he should make an effort to comfort her or leave her alone. He chooses the latter. "And now... now she's all grown up! Betrothed, to be married! So take care of her," she leans forward, near-pleading. The bouquet is done, and she hands it to him. "I- I will. I promise," Jeno declares, his clasp on the bouquet tightening with his words. The guilty pang returns as he leaves, and increases in intensity as you come into view.  The promise he made in there sounded as real as ever - because he'd forgotten about Seoyoung for a second. The closer he got to you, however, the better he saw your eyes light up at his presence, your features breaking into a relieved smile, widening further once you noticed the bouquet in his hands, the clearer it became that he was playing you for a damned fool. -- There's a comfortable silence in your carriage home. Feeling tired from walking around so much, you find your head leaning towards, and then resting on, Jeno's shoulder. It was less than comfortable considering the texture of the road caused your head to bump his shoulder a little too hard every now and again, but you didn't mind. He calls your name, breaking the quiet. "Y/N." You grunt a reply, flitting in and out of consciousness. "Y/N," he calls again, a whine to his voice this time. You grunt again, wanting to stay in your reverie just a little longer. "Y/N~" You look up at him, exasperated. "What?"  You cry out, before his lips are on yours and then suddenly gone. It was a quick peck, a mere meeting of the lips, for lack of a better phrase.  Short, sweet, but oh-so meaningful. He says nothing for the rest of the ride, but the strawberry flush across his cheeks tells you everything you wanted to know anyway. Yes, Jeno kissed you - just to get his mind off Seoyoung. But the heat he felt bloom across his face and the sharp increase in his pulse made him question if his feelings for Seoyoung were as intense as he thought they were if just one kiss with you made him feel this way.

-- You have to hide the obvious shock in your expression when he starts sitting next to you at breakfast the next morning. "Jeno." "Hm?" "What are you- Why are you here. On this side." "Am I not allowed to sit next to you?" "No, it's just- never mind." You have to hide the embarrassment when he asks himself when you'd become so breathtaking loud enough for you to hear. "You're so beautiful,"  He breathes. He's sitting a table away from you, in the palace library. "What? What did you say?"    "Nothing! Nothing," You have to force yourself not to bury your head in the nearest pillow, fabric, hell, cloth - when he starts sneaking kisses from you at every opportunity. "Y/N, my leg hurts." He's draped himself over the chaise longue in your chambers, preferring to spend most of his time there rather than anywhere else. You’re stood over him, hands on your hips. You found his presence a welcome occurrence, happy to get closer with him. "...Okay, let's go to the infirmary together. I'll walk you," "No, no! Not the infirmary." You frown, suspicious. "I think I need a different kind of treatment..." He looks at you expectantly, batting his lashes. "I don't understand." You hear him grumble under his breath, before his hand snakes around your waist and drags you so close your nose s are touching. "Do you understand now?" He whispers, eyes locking yours into place. His lips brush yours, still holding that gaze, and you almost lose the strength to stand as he kisses you properly, smoothly, before pulling away with a cursed wink. You start as a servant bursts through the doors, chest heaving, running towards Jeno and pressing an envelope, sealed with the familiar blue wax stamp of his kingdom, into his hands before running right back out again. The two of you share a look, then focus on the letter as Jeno opens the envelope and you lean over to read it's contents. The Northern Empire has invaded. Return at once. Concise. Clear. Just like the king and queen of the Southern Mainland. At the news, he immediately turns to leave your room, you following, but struggling to keep up. "Where are you going?" he asks. "I'm coming with you, obviously," you say, a little breathless. You stumble, bumping into him as he abruptly stops. "No, you're not," he says, looking confused. "Yes, I am," you reply, daring him to challenge you on the matter. "If you think I'm going to let you put your life at risk-" "I won't be putting anything at risk, because we'll be together." You caress his jaw, a thumb rubbing circles onto the skin. "I can't protect you all the time. You're safer here," he presses, frowning in worry. "Stay," he begs. "Please?" You take a deep breath, looking directly at him. "Jeno. I'm going with you." You shake your head at his open mouth, stopping him from saying the words he so desperately wants to say. "We're going," your hands move to his shoulders, squeezing them lightly, "to solve this, together. Because that's what a future king," you say, raising your eyebrows at him for emphasis, " and queen do." You continue, still holding his gaze. "And as my future husband," Neither of you can deny the increase in the pace of your hearts at that phrase, "You should have faith in me to defend myself. Okay?"  He releases a breath through his nose, eyes fluttering shut in frustration. "Okay," He whispers. "Okay." He says, louder, as if confirming something within himself. -- The first thing you noticed when you stepped off the boat was how fundamentally different everything was. Where the Isles had streets, although a little less than clean, filled with housing that never looked alike, due to the owners having free reign in how they built it, the Mainland had rows upon rows of identical houses, streets so pristine the suns rays practically reflected off of them. Where the Isles had a mixture of well established shops and stalls that the city's residents would set up and put away each working day, the Mainland had stores  on every corner. The whole city was organised, like everything and everyone had a place to be. It was mesmerising, to say the least. The palace, and its inhabitants, gave ample reason as to why the city looked the way it did. Matching the overall aesthetic of the city, the Mainland Palace was tall, angular in shape, with white, grey, and blue dominating the overall colour scheme - not a hair out of place - a stark contrast to the golds and greens of the palace back home. The people, especially Jeno's parents, were exactly as Jeno had described in the short months you'd  been together and gotten to know each other even better than you did as kids - uptight, stiff, and closed off, even more so now there were northern empire troops; the same troops your parents had betrothed the two of you together to avoid, now stationed further out in the country. You didn’t know whether to feel offended or not when they simply nodded in return to your greeting of them, but an explanation from Jeno as he guided you to your chambers soon let you know that the nodding were his parents actually being nice, for once. Your heart sank as you wondered if this was the kind of atmosphere Jeno had to deal with when he’d returned here 6 years ago, and how he’d even managed to survive it that long. “I know what you’re thinking,” he states, a smirk in his voice. He’s looking directly ahead, but he sensed the change in your mood the second you went silent. You look at him, studying his profile, the same profile you adored looking at so much; studying the length of his eyelashes, the slight to-and-fro sway of his fringe, the natural pout of his lips, and wonder again how a boy so perfect could’ve been subjected to somewhere like this. A place that looked perfect, but seemed far from it. “Don’t feel bad for me,” he warns, turning the handle to your chambers as he stops outside of it. “I’m fine now. I have you, don’t I?” you look at him a beat longer, studying his face for any sign of restraint, of sadness, and slump in relief as there is none.  You nod, half-smiling, "Yes. You do," and walk in.

-- It was amazing, you thought, just how fast the Northern Empire had managed to take a quaint little town on the edge of Jeno's kingdom, once filled with the typical repeated angular structure of housing commonly seen in the Mainland, and turn it into a home of their own - every roof of every house was plastered with the angry and intimidating red and black flags of the Empire, a reminder who had control, who would gain more of it if you and Jeno didn't get them out by today. The first thing you noticed, as the two of you trekked up the hill to the Empire's camp, were the fire-lit torches. The smoke they emitted smelled vulgar, the wind that blew never once affected their flame. You could see the opening of the town they'd invaded the closer you came, managed to get a glimpse of a citizen being roughed up by one of the guards, before a figure clothed in red and black, wearing a mask disguising their face, appears. "Royalty," they murmur, their voice travelling along the wind, barely noticeable yet just loud enough to understand. You feel the visible shiver running down your spine, the strangeness to their voice making you uncomfortable. Jeno's clasp on your hand, pulling you backwards behind him doesn't go unnoticed by the figure. "Cute." They chuckle, before lightly beckoning the two of you to follow,  heading further into their camp with an unnatural smoothness to their gait. Jeno tilts his head, sure some notes to that quiet whisper of the stranger's voice were familiar to him, that he'd heard them before - a different time, a different place, perhaps. He's so engrossed in his thoughts he barely notices you dragging him along, trying to keep up with the stranger while simultaneously avoiding the harsh gazes of the Empire's guards stationed everywhere. He bumps into your back, and you stumble as you stop in front of what you assumed to be the captain's tent, the stranger who greeted you at the gates clapping twice outside the flaps before disappearing. Mystery seemed a recurring theme amongst the soldiers of the Northern Empire, all including the Captain, hiding every feature but their gaze with the same red and black mask. Personality wise, the Captain spoke in circles, sometimes cryptic, sometimes misleading - but it was worth it when you and Jeno left the tent with a stamped agreement that would soon get the Northern soldiers out of Jeno's lands. "I'm proud of you, you know."  You're the first to break the silence, beaming at him as you get nearer to the carriage. "You did really well in there - like a king," you add, elbowing him for emphasis. He scoffs and smiles, a slight tinge to his cheeks at the compliment. "I couldn't have done it without you, though," he steps aside to let you board the carriage first, climbing in after you, "Queen," he teases, mimicking your movements from earlier.  The ride back to the castle was uneventful, and neither of you failed to notice the gradual steady slump in each others shoulders the further away you got from the unsettling loom of the Empire's camp.

News of the agreement was music to everyone's' ears - especially those of the rulers of the Southern Mainland. Both you and Jeno have to force your jaws from dropping at the announcement of a ball to celebrate your combined success, but only one of you has to strategically hide his fingers curling into fists, taut with fear at the secret in danger of being revealed from the roving gaze of his parents. -- The palace did not look so different from its usual appearance when sculptures, fountains, and tables you hadn't seen before decorated areas around the ballroom floor. You'd spent the first few minutes of the ball with Jeno; you'd followed with him as he greeted nobles, nodded in his parents direction, and introduced you to his friends, the ones he'd told you about when you were in the humid heat of the Isles, before quickly disappearing off, summoned to his parents side to 'discuss courtly matters,' he'd said.  You had no issue; after all, a peck on the forehead from him was a sufficient goodbye until he found you later. Jeno was right in his description of Na Jaemin; the man was beautiful, truly no other way to describe him - and, for the son of merchants, exuded a royal air far stronger, far more used to, than any other royal you'd met prior. Where Na Jaemin was kind words bordering on a flirt, smiles bright enough to melt the coldest of hearts, Huang Renjun was, despite being born into nobility, as you'd learned, more rough around the edges than anything else. It was a wonder, you'd noted, that the two boys hadn't been switched at birth at some point long ago, given the stark difference in their personalities. A contrast to Jaemin, Renjun was blunt, had jokes that sometimes made you question whether he meant them maliciously or not, but overall carried himself with an adult sort of grace that you'd come to respect in your short conversation with him, before both him and Jaemin had been dragged off to dance with ladies neither of them knew of. Jaemin and Renjun seemed like good people - this you knew - but why did their eyebrows raise, why did a look of surprise - however fleeting - mar their faces as Jeno introduced you to them? It was that thought you pondered on, had your forehead lightly pulsing with pain as your brow became more and more creased the further into thought you went, when you found him. Found Jeno, or his silhouette, at least, dancing with a girl whose features you couldn't quite place. Well, dancing wasn't a crime - you could go and say hello, tell him how you were feeling about the ball, about his friends - in fact you'd even taken around 4 steps towards the two, hope rising in your chest, when you saw it. Jeno's forehead leaning against the girls, the two of them sharing a longing stare you'd never seen directed towards you, as they, in the presence of all on the ballroom floor, like they hadn't a care in the world, kissed. Kissed. There's a heaviness in your body, a visceral pang in your chest; you aren't sure if you can even take another step - but you carried on, pressed on, towards their dreaded spot, determined to confront the liar who had been your betrothed through all these months, weeks, years. The girl is the first to notice your presence, and you try not to get to caught up in the fact that  your own husband to be was so wrapped up in someone else that he couldn't even deign to notice you. "Oh, hi!" She waves. "Are you a friend of Jeno's?" She didn't even know who you were. Of course she wouldn't.  Why would he tell her he was betrothed to marry a girl from a different kingdom and had been for the past decade. You nodded in reply, swallowing to try and get the lump out of your throat. Glancing at Jeno, you noticed how he'd visible stiffness to his posture,  like he'd been caught doing something wrong. The problem was that he had. He had been caught doing something wrong, and that made it worse. Why? Because it confirmed that he knew. The whole time since he'd returned to you, he'd known. You didn't think the pain could get any worse. "Who are you, if I may ask?" You can barely get out more than a choked up whisper. Your eyes heat up as her perfect smile widens. "Oh, I'm Jeno's girlfriend!" Four words. Four excruciatingly painful words. Love was never a familiar concept to you, at least not in the romantic sense, but you felt that you'd begun to learn what it was during your time with Jeno. She introduced herself as Seoyoung. The longer you stood there, forcing yourself to act as though you weren't feeling your heart break into pieces, the more you saw the appeal. An angelic smile, a kind voice with an addictive country twang to it - safe to say it did wonders for your own self confidence. Introducing yourself afterward, you curtsied and left as quickly as you could, trying not to be rude but at the same time not really caring. You brushed past Renjun on the way out, eyes hot with tears, and the pitiful look on his face you saw -  albeit a little blurry - confirmed everything once more. Just how stupid could you be? How stupid did he think you could be? To lead you on, to make you fall for him, to feed you false dreams while he was living them with someone else the entire time? How could he? Not caring about where you went, just that you needed to be alone, opened the first door that seemed unlocked. What a coincidence, then, that the first door you opened led into the room of the last person you wanted to see. Forest green bed sheets, stark white walls, everything organized and in its place.  Vanilla and nutmeg permeated your nostrils-- of course the room would smell like him, it was his room after all. You walked around, finding paintings of him and his family on the walls, papers, organised into neat piles on his desk, a black leather-bound book on his dresser. You had an inkling of what it was, and against your better judgement, you opened it. You read line after line of somewhat mediocre poetry dedicated to Seoyoung, scattered journal entries about Seoyoung, drawings of Seoyoung. Everything was about Seoyoung. And if it wasn't about her, it was about everyone else but you. His parents, his servants, his tutors, his friends-- it was as though you didn't exist. Had you meant anything to him, at all? You hear footsteps, the door opening and closing, and freeze. A hand rests on your shoulder and you whip round, coming face to face with the last person you wanted to see.

"Y/N." he calls, tentative. You have to clench your hands into fists to avoid slapping him across the face. "Can we- Can we talk?" You've never felt more hurt, more saddened, but most of all, embarrassed - the last thing you'd ever want to look like is a fool and yet here he is, someone you thought you could trust more than anyone else, playing you for one. "Why." You reply, cold. As the two of you stand in uncomfortable silence, you begin  to connect the dots. "Because I need to explain. Listen, I-" "Was it a lie?" You cut him off, and Jeno hates how defeated, how quiet you are - like he's made you into a shell of the person you were. "What? Was what a lie?" "The explanation. Was it a lie." It made sense, when you thought about it. He wasn't closed off because of his parents, because of the life he had to lead - he was closed off, blunt, rude, every disrespectful name under the sun; because by not getting close to you, it would make it easier for him to go back to his little girlfriend back home and pretend his little stint with you in the Isles was nothing more than a trip for princely activities, if she ever asked. "No, of course not. I could never lie to you about that, Y/N." You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Oh please." You say, having had enough. "You didn't want me to come here because you were scared I'd see her. You only let me come here because you thought you could somehow keep her a secret, have your fun with her and then come back to me and lie to my face. You didn't leave me to talk to your parents. You left me to go and find her. Because you don't care about me, Jeno. You never did." You push past him at that, heading for the door, ignoring his cries after you. "Y/N, will you just wait! Please," He grabs your wrist, forcing you to a stop. "Jeno." You warn, "I want nothing to do with you." At that, he lets you go, and you storm off, through the hallways into your own room, wincing as you bark at a handmaid to begin packing your things, readying to leave. You were over the Southern Mainland. You just wanted to go home.

A crash and a scream break you out of your sombre mood. Opening the door a sliver, you peek out of your room to see absolute chaos - members of the royal guard shouting and yelling at people to be calm, gentry, nobility, and everyone else running to find an exit in panic, and men you don't recognize in familiar uniforms locked in battle with knights clad in the white and grey of the Southern Mainland. Creaking the door wider, as you watched more and more southern mainland knights fall one by one, you realised why the uniform seemed so familiar; because it belonged to the Empire. They'd disregarded your agreement and come to attack anyway - and there's a sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach as you consider the implications of it.

Opening the door wider, you break into a run, heading back to Jeno's room, despite your mind screaming at you not to. Irrespective of how much you hated him right now though, you needed to know if he was okay - if there was anyway you could both try and fix this mess. You find him before you get there, sword in hand, locked in battle with an Empire knight, and you wish you had a weapon of your own to fight with. There - peeking out amongst the mix of the fallen and injured, you grab a sword from a fallen enemy and slam it's pommel into the head of someone behind Jeno, the thud of their collapse alerting him to your presence. "…You saved me," he says, voice heavy with gratitude. "Don't mention it. Where are your parents?" You demand. "I don't know," he admits, "Haven't seen them since I left the ball." A pregnant silence falls. "…I haven't seen her either, if that's what you were gonna ask." "I wasn't." You grit out, picking up the sword again and swinging at another attacker with it. The knight meets the blow with a shield - he stumbles with the impact, but the blow isn't hard enough as he moves to attack again. This time it's Jeno who saves you, subduing the attacker permanently. He looks at you expectantly, but you brush him off, dropping the sword, and break into a light run, signalling him to come along. "We should keep moving. Find your parents and figure out what to do," He nods. You don't say anything else. He doesn't either. Both your minds are too preoccupied with the growing destruction around you - the yells and battle cries, the groans of pain, the screams of civilians -- it almost gets too much, but you shove those feelings away. You can't afford to be weak right now - you have people to protect damnit and you'd sooner die than let anything get in your way. The two of you check a multitude of places in the palace as you look for Jeno's parents - the ballroom, the study, the library- all empty. Its when you check the throne room, however, that you find what you seek. Surrounded by countless soldiers all bearing the northern empire  emblem, there Jeno's parents knelt, unable to move. Luckily, you hadn't been discovered just yet, but you could tell from the corner of your eye that Jeno was going to ruin it. Digging your nails into his wrist, you shoot him a look - his eyes burn with protest at first, but he submits as you strain your ears to listen in. The voice you do hear, spitting venom, sends a visible chill down Jeno's spine.  The previous bubbly lilt had gone, replaced with a hard, rough growl. Uncomfortable, in disgust, you watched as she kicked, pushed, and laughed at jeno's parents, and you felt Jeno himself shake in anger, ears getting red as he tried to hold it in. Angrier and angrier you felt him become; until he just... stopped shaking. Like a heavy calm overtook him, like he was on the border of extreme anger and extreme apathy. There was no question that you were a hair's breadth away from saying you despised Jeno right about now, but the sight of Seoyoung, someone he obviously trusted, blatantly disrespect his parents made your own blood boil - but so far you'd managed to stay composed. It was only when she asked - no - demanded the king and queen kiss her feet that you broke your silence. "That's enough." Your heart leaps into your throat as you say it, a sliver of regret already entering your mind, and you gulp as she languidly turns to look at you. "Oh? Looks like we have guests." She makes some kind of signal to her guards, you don't know what, but you do know it results in the king and queen being removed from the area, through doors and into a room you don't know the contents of. Your arm begins to ache with how hard you have to grip Jeno to stop him from going any closer to Seoyoung, and it gets worse as he speaks. "Lay a hand on them Seoyoung and I swear-" "-Oh I won't do anything to them," she grins, catlike. "As long as you do something for me." Eyes narrowing, you step back, apprehensive.  Seoyoung looks at Jeno stepping in front of you, hand on his hilt, and laughs - quite familiarly, you note, to the figure that greeted you when you went to the Empire's camp a few weeks prior. "Why so afraid? It's fairly simple…. I should hope." "All you have to do," she continues, voice lowering to an unsettling purr, the contrast to her earlier persona still throwing you off, "Is kneel before your queen," she preens, ascending the steps and positioning herself comfortably on the queen's throne. Jeno grunts in frustration, Seoyoung simply grins in satisfaction. "What is it that you want?" He pleads, strained. As slowly as she sat down, Seoyoung rises, making her way to and around Jeno, her movements serpentine. "Oh, I just want what every young girl wants," she sighs, dreamily, trailing a finger down his arm as she circles the room, "True love and a reckoning, blood, fire, a pony…" She stepped closer, lips brushing his ear, "the precious little crown you're going to inherit."

Eyes aflame with anger you shoved between them, "The people would never accept you as their queen." You spat, and with an unnerving tilt of her head, Seoyoung's gaze met yours, lips curved into a half smile. The next second, as she continued to stare, you saw a flash of something flare up in her gaze. You realised what it was as your legs were suddenly screaming in agony, a sharp pain forcing you to kneel and a dark aura radiated from her. Looking to Jeno for help, you tried to get his attention, only hearing his grunts of pain to tell you he was in the same boat. "With all due respect, darling," she purred, bending to your height, her half smile widening into a complacent simper, "I think they will." She nodded at her guards, and together they left with a flourish, the slam shut of the door you and Jeno had entered through finally allowing the pain to stop. Bodies exhausted, dregs of agony still refusing to leave your bones, you help each other up and set off to find Jeno's parents. The walk is rightfully silent, the clack of your shoes against the floor the only sound permeating the air. You find them, thankfully okay, just unconscious and tied up, and the two of get to work undoing the ties. "We should wake them up," you grunt, back towards Jeno, "Tell them to get somewhere safe." "I think we should leave them here. Let them rest and wake up in their own time." "There are people dying as we speak, Jeno, and you want to leave your parents here? To rest?" "At least I'll know where they are. I can send a guard to stay with them-" "Every guard is in battle with the Empire's forces right now! And if we leave them here, you forget that Seoyoung will know where they are as well." You pinch the bridge of your nose, progress to rubbing a thumb back and forth across your brow. "Do you- do you want her to find them?" Jeno is silent as you turn around, looking directly at him. "Are you working with her?" "Y/N, no. No, I would never do that, ever, not in a million years! You know me, Y/N," You give him a long look, taking a deep breath. "No, Jeno. I don't." A part of you feels like you shouldn't have doubted him that much, but a larger part of you knows you were right. You don't know Jeno. At least, not anymore. Once you get both parents awake, you give a brief summary of what went on and warn them to leave - and they do, albeit sceptically. Jeno's worry shows clear on his face, but you say nothing of it as the both of you continue to go through the palace, trying to find an exit that isn't barred by enemies, avoid Seoyoung and at the very least, find Jaemin and Renjun to regroup with all at the same time. Thankfully, you arrive at the palace courtyard in one piece, and find Jaemin and Renjun messily defending themselves against 4 other knights, who's swords kept dangerously close to Renjun's arm and Jaemin's neck. Exasperated, you huff, find another sword to use, and ram it into the nearest soldier - his choked out groans of pain combined with the coppery tang of his blood as it leaked out was enough to make bile rise in your throat, but you force it back down as you and Jeno join the battle to help take the weight off of Jaemin and Renjun. After subduing all of them, plus some extra who had appeared, the four of you leave the palace courtyard, running continuously until you're sure you're safe, and there's another awkward silence, everyone pointedly avoiding your gaze. You feel Jeno's hand still clasping yours, and shake it off, his touch uncomfortable. "So…where do we go from here?" Jaemin's the first to break the quietude. "We go home," you state. Renjun looks at you and then in the direction of the castle, confused. You huff, rubbing your temples. "My home." -- The four of you board a boat to the Isles early the next morning - after barely getting any sleep in the palace stables you'd had to take refuge in the night before - to avoid detection. You'd had no idea whether the Empire's forces had overrun the whole kingdom yet, and didn't want to take any chances by leaving later on when there was currently a bounty on the heads of those travelling with you. You all arrive home in one piece, and go your separate ways upon arrival; you and Jeno towards the palace, and Jaemin and Renjun towards the city to find a place to stay. You blatantly ignore Jeno for the first few days back -  you return to sitting across from him at breakfast, you barely reply to his questions most times, and generally act  like he doesn't exist. It works - but you know you can't keep it up for long. You conveniently hid the piece of information about Jeno practically cheating on you from your parents,so you knew you couldn't keep ignoring him forever without them noticing at some point and asking questions. It seemed that Jeno had come to this realisation also, as he cornered you in your room on one day that you'd been especially ignoring him, brushing him off whenever he even so much as breathed in your direction. "Jeno, get out of my--" "We need to talk. And I'm not leaving until you hear me out." You folded your arms. "There's nothing to talk about. You led me on, I fell for it, I found out, and now I hate you. What more is there to say?" His face fell. "You really hate me?" You sighed. Of course you didn't. But every time you closed your eyes, you saw the image of him kissing her again - so would it really be such a lie if you said you did? "…Just get out of my room, Jeno." He turned to leave, looking at you one last time, before going, shutting the door behind him as he went. Sighing, you threw yourself back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, happy to be alone, when the door opened once more. It was Jeno again. "I'm sorry I just--I can't leave without telling you the truth,"

"What truth? That you loved her all along and now that she's shown herself to be some evil villain you think you can just come in here and- and use my feelings as some way to make yourself feel better?" Your voice began to shake, the lump in your throat appeared again, and your eyes watered and you hated that you were crying in front of him, that he'd made you like this because it wasn't fair, Goddamnit.

It wasn't fair that you still hurt so bad, while he didn't seem that hurt at all. If anything he seemed inconvenienced. Inconvenienced that everything had to come out like this. "I'm--I'm sorry, Y/N." His voice was a little rougher, a little choked up, and you could tell he was on the verge of breaking. He sat down at the edge of your bed, placing a hand on yours, tentatively. You don't pull away. "I met Seoyoung a year after I left. My parents didn't tell me when I would see you again; I didn't even think this would happen this soon," You nod, signalling him to continue. "I was lonely, and I found it hard to adjust to the way I used to be when you'd shown me so much more. Nobody but her really understood how I felt. She gave me an escape." A little smile graces his features, and your heart chips at the fact that if you weren't sure he loved you before, you could be certain he didn't love you now. Either way, you were finding this all a little hard to process - some girl he'd barely met when he moved home became his only friend due to his weird relationship with his parents. "I guess I just wanted to live as freely as I could before I was tied down forever." Tied down? Is that really what he thought being married to you would be like? Had he forgotten how close you were as children? "What about the ball," you whisper. "Huh?" his eyes flick over to yours and you meet his gaze. "I said. What about the ball. When I saw you," you struggle to get the final two words out, coming out as a reluctant mumble "….kissing her." He stiffens at that. "I didn't mean to kiss her," You cock a brow, heaving an exaggerated sigh. "Not in there, at least!" "So you meant to kiss her somewhere else? So I'd never find out?" You exclaim, scandalised. "No, no, that's not what I meant-- just listen to me--" "--I am, Jeno. And I'm struggling to see the point." He runs a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. "I was going to tell her then. That we couldn't be together, that I was betrothed. But she kissed me and I--I don't know. I don't know anymore," "Then why lead me on? Why kiss me, why make me think that you wanted this, why use me?" "Because," he breathes, leaning towards you, "I love you, Y/N. I always have," For a moment you felt as though your heart could explode with joy. Your childhood friend-turned-crush-turned-lover confessing his love for you. If this was a different situation, it would've been everything you'd ever wanted. But you knew better. "Oh, save it. You're just saying that to make me feel better. You don't love me, Jeno. You just think you do." "I meant it, Y/N. I really do love--," You hold up a hand, cutting him off. "You love Seoyoung. Not me. We need to focus on stopping her anyways," The two of you make eye contact, Jeno's intense gaze meeting your stubborn one. Wordlessly, he goes to the door once more, saying one sentence before leaving. "I meant what I said. I'll prove it to you." You knew he didn't,at least you thought so.  You thought you knew him better than anyone and you were clearly wrong about that so maybe, just maybe, you were wrong about this. But you had enough faith in yourself to know you were right. You avoided Jeno for the rest of the day aside from dinner when you absolutely had to be around him, and all through that he'd smile at you and pretend everything was okay. It made you sick to smile back, but you pushed through, determined not to let your parents suspect anything. Events in the Mainland and the issue of trying to protect the Isles already commanded most of their attention - letting them know that the practically lifelong betrothal they'd arranged had gone horribly wrong wasn't something you wanted to disclose just yet. Besides, if staying with Jeno meant the safety of your people, a little sacrifice of your happiness wouldn't be too much of a price to pay, you thought. The knights quarters had always been a second home to you - it was where you first met Haechan, where you made friends with Chenle, where you gave advice, got advice, told stories, played pranks, shared secrets - and now you were going there to share the biggest secret of all. You find Haechan's door, and you're about to enter when you pause. You can hear Chenle's signature laugh, Haechan's teasing lilt; that was fine - but why were Renjun and Jaemin's voices mixed in with them? You wouldn't call yourself childish, and you wouldn't call yourself petty either, but hell, you couldn't care less if people called you those things and more because the idea of Jaemin and Renjun making friends with your best friends made you feel more than slightly ill. Your parents had insisted Renjun and Jaemin stay in the palace once you'd told them all that had happened back on the Mainland - at first you'd been somewhat indifferent about it, but seeing them through the crack of the door - heads thrown back in laughter, eyes turned into crescents from their wide smiles - makes you suddenly wish you hadn't told your parents about them at all. You stand at the doorway, swing the door fully open, and wait for them to notice your presence. It's almost laughable, really, how fast Haechan and Chenle brighten even more when they see you, and how fast Renjun and Jaemin lose the smiles and clear their throats, trying to make a quick exit as Chenle grabs your wrist and drags you further in. "Y/N!" He beams, his smile easing the suffering in your heart a little. "Come sit!" You stand, uncomfortable, as Renjun and Jaemin's eyes are both suddenly pinned to the stone tiles of the floor. The grin slowly falls off of Chenle's face as he notices the cooling of the room's mood. "...Uh, guys?" He says, hoping someone other than him breaks the silence and soon.  "I think we should go," Renjun suggests, sheepish, him and Jaemin both leaving before Chenle can even ask why. Throwing yourself onto Haechan's bed, just like you used to, you let out a defeated sigh. "Something you need to tell me about?" He jokes, lying next to you. "There are many things I need to talk to you about," you reply. "Hey, what about me?" Chenle chimes in, standing over the two of you. "The both of you," you correct, "There are many, many things I need to talk to the both of you about." And so you vent. You tell them everything, from beginning to end, and by the time you're done, it's a struggle trying to get the two of them not to go and give Jeno a piece of their minds. Chenle can do nothing but sink to a crouch, mouth open in disbelief. "I just don't get it," Haechan breathes. "You seemed so close, how could he- do something like that?" He grabs your hands and pulls you into his arms. "Y/N, I'm so sorry." Face half smushed into his chest, half not, you smile to the best of your ability. "It's ok," you mumble, defeated, "Well it isn't, but it's ok as it's going to be. I guess." Haechan's embrace is warm, tight, reassuring. As his hand rubs circles into your back, slightly rocking back and forth, you wonder if life would've been easier if you'd never been betrothed. If you'd somehow, by some weird stroke of fate, fallen for him instead of Jeno. At the very least, the biggest thing you'd have to worry about when marrying Haechan would be getting him to shut up. Being talkative was one of the traits the both of you shared, to a fault. You untangle yourself from him and meet his confused gaze. "Haechan, I need you to promise me something." "Of course." He nods along, wary. "Please, please don't bring this up to him," you wince as you say it because you can feel his judgement. "Y/N, you can't be serious." "Please, Haechan. I don't- I don't really want to hear about my husband cheating on me any more than necessary, you know?" The way your voice trails off in the latter part of that sentence loosens Haechan's resolve. "Fine," he grumbles, folding his arms. Chenle puts an awkward hand on your shoulder - he'd never really been one for physical contact - finally gathering some words to say. "No matter what happens, Y/N, we'll support you." The two of you nod at each other, and for once, the plague of Jeno on your mind is lifted, as you appreciate just how lucky you are to have friends as priceless as these. The reprieve is temporary, though, as two knocks in quick succession and a push at the door reveal Jeno, looking a little more exhausted than the last time you'd seen him. Chenle moves in front of you, and Haechan stands, the both of them stony-faced. "Is it okay if I come in?" Jeno asks, still standing at the threshold of the door. "I don't know," says Haechan. "Is it okay if I let a liar into my room?" You try to get his attention, to tell him to relax, but his focus is firmly fixed onto Jeno. "You can come in," whispers Chenle, and Haechan's head whips round to glare at him in shock. Chenle ignores it, and continues speaking. "Why did you come here?"

"Because," Jeno begins, "Because I wanted to know if I could make things right. If she'd let me." He tries to meet your eyes, and you can feel him looking at you, but you ignore it. He'd done enough damage, and you didn't even want to give him the time of day. Haechan seems to notice this, and speaks for you. "You want to know how to make things right? Get out of here," Jeno's expression goes from hopeful to crushed - you're glad he hasn't noticed you started looking at him. "Stop walking around here as though everything is fine, and go fix the mess in your own kingdom- a kingdom you're supposed to be future king of - before trying to save a marriage you ruined. What kind of king abandons his country in need?" The ire in Haechan's voice is so palpable you've never been more thankful that you weren't on the receiving end of it. There is a long silence after his speech of sorts, and all you hear from Jeno is a simple "Thank you," before he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. "Before you get all angry at me, you never said I couldn't say anything about him, right Chenle?" Haechan begs, looking back and forth between you and Chenle, looking at you to make sure you don't kill him, and at Chenle for moral support. "He is kind of right there, Y/N." You groan at the both of them, rolling your eyes. -- You couldn't be angry at Haechan - because you agreed with what he said. He was right in what he said to Jeno, which was why you were angry at yourself for  the fact that you were currently chasing Jeno down the hallway, for reasons you'd probably address when you were alone in your room at night - or any other time that wasn't right now. "Jeno!" You call, and chuckle, mirthlessly, at the irony of how it was now you doing the chasing and not him. His hair flutters and settles beautifully as he turns abruptly, and you almost, almost, forget you're supposed to be angry at him when you see the innocent widening of his eyes and slight opening of his mouth as he turns to your calling of his name. You catch up with him, taking a minute to catch your breath, and cursing yourself as you still have trouble comfortably speaking. "I just," you wheeze, "I just wanted to tell you...not to listen to Haechan...he's angry for me," For all that tree climbing you did as a child, it was crazy how you wouldn't be at least somewhat more fit than you were now. "He's right," he replies, and you raise an eyebrow, still trying to catch your breath. "I have a plan - Haechan said I needed to fix things, and I will." Before you can even get out a 'How?', he cuts you off. "Just trust me." He doesn't give you any more information than that, and goes back to borderline running through the hallways, leaving you alone, having caught your breath too late to call after him. -- You're greeted at breakfast the next morning by an empty seat across from you and questions from your parents that you can only make just about believable answers to. A quick search and some asking around leads you to find that Jeno is gone, having only left a note for Jaemin and Renjun notifying them of his departure - meaning if you wanted to know where he'd gone and what he'd gone to do (though you already had a pretty solid idea), you'd have to talk to the two people you most definitely had more of a dislike for than anything else. It's Jaemin who notices you first, unsure of what to do or whether to go as it becomes clear that you're actually approaching the two of them, and not just taking a walk around the palace courtyard. "Y/N," he smiles, and you can tell he's just trying to be polite by the way the smile doesn't reach his eyes and his smile looks more and more like a grimace the longer he holds it. "Is there anything we can help you with?" A corner of your lips quirks a little as Jaemin nudges Renjun to turn around. "Did Jeno tell either of you where he went? I can't find him," Its Renjun who tells you that all Jeno left for them was a note with five words: I'm going to fix it. And with that, your suspicions are confirmed; Jeno had most likely gone back to the Mainland, to 'fix' the problems that plagued it there. However now, and only now, was when you felt angry at Haechan for his outburst a day earlier - because now Jeno was gone, and you still had questions that only he could answer, whether you liked what you would've heard or not. "Um...while you're here," says Renjun, breaking you out of your reverie, "I-" a sharper nudge from Jaemin, one that actually looks painful, causes him to correct himself. "We, wanted to apologise. For the ball. As Jeno's friends, we should've stopped him as soon as it started." You disliked Renjun and Jaemin for their role in the whole Jeno being a cheater debacle, but truth-be-told, you weren't all that angry at them, because they had no real loyalty to you. Jeno was supposed to be your best friend. By principle, he would've been the last person you'd expect to ever betray you. And yet, he did. So you weren't angry at Jaemin and Renjun for siding with their own friend. You felt hurt, by Jeno. "It wasn't your fault." You mutter to the pair of them, before turning to leave. -- It was sickening. Sickening, Jeno thought, how easily he'd let himself be fooled for so long, by someone he trusted so much. As he mounted the steps two at a time into the palace, he wonders if that's how you had felt, when everything had fallen apart just over a week prior. He still felt a pang in his chest every time he pictured the look on your face from that day; hurt, betrayed, disbelieving. As he entered and saw the Empire's flags strewn all over the previously pristine castle interior, he wondered just when he'd lost himself this much. Haechan was right - what kind of king was he? He'd barely any idea of where his parents had gone after that night; if Seoyoung had taken them again, if they were safe; he hadn't even bothered to find a way to check up on his kingdom, which was already beginning to lose its shine and lustre at the occupation draining the life out of its veins. He felt like a waste of a king - no, he was one. But at the very least, the least he could do as a king in its own right was save his kingdom from the invaders that plagued it - he had a plan, and it was going to work. It had to; he had no other choice. Seeing the door of the throne room again brought back memories Jeno didn't really want to think about; it simply reminded him of his own horrible, horrible mistake - but he steeled his resolve and pushed open the door. It's entirely too laughable how Seoyoung is sat in the same place she was when he left - perched on the queen's throne, red hair tied back, and eyes that looked dull and soulless. Was that what he'd allowed himself to fall for? "Jeno!" She croons, beckoning her guards to bring him closer. "I missed you," Her patronising manner of speech, like a mother to its child, felt like nails scratching down a chalkboard to his ears. But he pushed through it, put on the best smile he could muster, and began to execute the first step of his plan. "Really?" He asks, eyes coy. "I thought you would've wanted me gone." He's directly in front of her now, can see in detail just how much the old Seoyoung, the one he used to know, was gone. But was she ever really there? That was a question Jeno had been asking himself since he'd arrived at this place. "Oh Jen," she purrs, and its a struggle not to narrow his eyes at the old nickname, "I wanted everyone else gone," She rises off of the throne to meet him face to face, slinking around him to put her hands on his shoulders, lips brushing his ear as she speaks. "But you and I, you with your crown and I with my power," It's somewhat frightening how absorbed she sounds, "Jen, we could rule the world! You and me," How stupid did she think he was? It was all too clear to Jeno what she was doing; the nickname to soften his resolve, the enthusiasm in her words, the closeness to try and distract him from what she was really saying - that she wanted him to give up his throne to let her rule the world, not them together - but just her. So he agreed. "We can rule the world," he breathes, realisation tinging the edges of his voice. "Together," he half asks, half states. "Yes," she sighs, "Together." -- There are a lot of things Jeno comes to find out, the longer he stays with Seoyoung. One; He was right - ever since he'd agreed to joining Seoyoung's side, she'd taken the lead in everything, and had gotten strangely irritated whenever Jeno tried giving his input (not that he did often, of course). Two; His parents, thankfully, were still safe. From keeping his ear to the ground and bits and pieces of information he'd managed to scrape from the servants of the palace, he'd found out that they were in hiding, and that Seoyoung already had guards looking for them. "To bring them home and keep them safe," she said when he'd asked. But he knew what she really wanted to do with them. Three: You were right - when you said she'd never be accepted as Queen. Jeno soon learns that the only guards who truly respect her are the ones left from the crew she stormed the palace with - and that the original palace guards were still loyal to him. --. They're in the throne room when it all comes together; the planning and secret preparation he'd been working towards for the past 3 weeks. This time he would put Seoyoung away, once and for all - especially now that he'd learned that his parents had been found and that they were locked in the dungeons, courtesy of Seoyoung, of course. "Promise me you'll stay with me forever," she whispers, and Jeno's stomach turns as her lips graze his. "I promise," he says, opening his eyes to find Seoyoung's still shut. It's in this moment where his chance arrives - he clicks his fingers 3 times, and lets out a low whistle; the code he'd devised with the guards a few days prior to summon them. As the guards file in, coming closer and closer towards the two, Jeno's hands rise from her clasp to cup her face - which, from this angle, Jeno thinks, almost looks innocent. He offhandedly wonders what may have happened to make Seoyoung such a contrast to her features. "Jeno." She mumbles, eyes still shut, forehead still leaning against his, a hand rising up to cup his. "What are the guards doing here?" He hums, voice low. "Just trust me," A sliver of a smirk graces his features as he continues, "I have a surprise." He takes her hands and lowers them, still holding them - trying to make it as easy as possible for the guards to slam the restraints on as fast as they can. Slowly, delicately, he steps away from Seoyoung;  a tilt of his head signalling one guard to come forward and do the act - and, like a cliché flash, it happens. He lets go, the shackles come down, and Seoyoung's eyes finally snap wide open; the same flash from that night occurs again in her gaze, but it does nothing. The shackles were made of iron - specifically to block her from using any of her tricks to get away. At her inability to inflict harm the way she desired, Seoyoung's expression crumples into a horrid mix of anger and shock. "Jeno," she calls, tone shaky, uncertain. "What are you doing?" He says nothing - simply allows himself to giggle loud enough for her to hear as the guards drag her down to the dungeons. As she should be. As she should've been all those months ago. -- "I'll give you whatever - money, power, control - freedom from your parents I know you hate so much - all you have to do is join me, Jeno." She'd been down here for over a week, allowed no contact with anyone while he tried to restore order in the kingdom above. It seemed, from the borderline feral look in her eyes and the fatigue that plagued her very being, that being in the dungeons was taking its toll. No, it didn't seem so; the longer she spoke, Jeno knew it was so. "What happened to ruling the world, together?" She pleads. Trying to appeal to him using his own words, he notes. He says nothing, simply keeps eye contact with her and lets her continue. A guard barks at her to keep quiet - she glares at them, grunting as the shackles on her wrists prevent her from doing what she so desires, and returns her gaze to Jeno. "Jen, stop being stupid and tell them to let me out, please." Again with the nickname, he thinks. Before, long ago, when he'd first met her, his heart would've fluttered, cheeks would've reddened at her use of the name. Now, though, all it did was send an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. "Jen? Jeno, tell them to let me out." She's less desperate and more irritated now, his silence, his blank, uncaring, stare making her ever angrier. He wonders, as he's done so many times he's had to be around her, as she nags and scolds and patronises, just who Seoyoung even was. If he ever knew her. He wonders, for the second time, if this was how you felt. She's gone back to being desperate now, but with some emotional guilt-tripping to really try and pull at his heartstrings. "If you love me, Jeno - if you ever loved me - you'd let me out. Please," He's silent. "If you love me, you'll do the right thing! Jen, please!" If he loved her. He inwardly scoffs at the thought. What he had for Seoyoung, he realised, wasn't love. No - maybe it was love, at one point. But now, now he realised that it had turned into infatuation. And after her big reveal, that infatuation had quickly left, leaving nothing but disgust in its wake. "You don't get to call me that name. Not anymore," He says, brows furrowed, lips curled into a sneer, as Seoyoung grips the bars of the cell, tears rimming her eyes.  "I never loved you, Seoyoung. And I am doing the right thing," he spat, leaving her to rot in her cell, her calls and shouts sounding like static the further away he got. -- With Seoyoung out of action, Jeno uses her as ransom to get the Empire troops to leave - and they do this time. Once they're gone, he stays in the mainland for a while, working on re-establishing the monarchy. For once, he thinks, maybe the title of king truly belonged to him. His parents, since being freed, had done nothing but pull Jeno into a tight embrace, and had then kept mostly to themselves. The embrace was probably the most amount of affection Jeno had ever received, but it was a start. At last, he felt, things were beginning to change. -- You were anxious. More than anxious, you were worried. You'd heard a little here and there of the events that had happened, of Jeno supposedly joining forces with Seoyoung to betray her in the end, and safe to say, your own feelings about him were now a mess of emotions. On the one hand, a part of you was still angry at him for leaving, for putting you through all this, for practically breaking your heart - on the other hand, you had to respect his diligence; he said he was going to fix things, and he did. He also showed that he was done with Seoyoung; he'd had the girl imprisoned, for goodness sake. But still... were you really ready to forgive him? It's these thoughts that have you deep in the trenches of your mind before the doors to the throne room, where you're so nervously pacing, open and shut. You look up, suspicious of who it may be; maybe a handmaid, maybe Jaemin or Renjun wanting to have a chat, maybe- "I fixed it," he breathes. It's him. You're speechless, lost for words, can barely function as Jeno's arms engulf you, as vanilla and nutmeg overpower your senses, as his grip on you becomes just a little tighter, like he couldn't ever bear to let you go. You pull away, putting some distance between you. You missed him, *yes*, but there were things you needed to discuss. You almost rush back into his arms at the flash of hurt that graces his features, but steel yourself. There were things you needed to say, this you knew - so why was it so hard for you to speak? There's a weird silence between you both; Jeno clearing his throat, you fiddling with your dress - you're almost there, have almost found the right words to say, but as usual, Jeno seems to beat you to it. "I wanted to give you a proper apology," he starts. His hands are shaking, and he balls them into fists. "There's no excuse for what I did, at all. And-" he stutters, "And if you've decided you don't want to be with me anymore, then I understand. I'll tell our parents everything. You deserve a lot better than me, Y/N." Your heart finally feels somewhat at peace. All the turmoil, all the heartbreak; It was only an apology, but you felt like you could start to build something with Jeno again. "I do deserve better," you acknowledge, and Jeno swears his heart chips a little at the thought that he really had lost you forever. "But I don't want better." You breathe slow. "I want to give us another try." Jeno  grins so wide his cheeks ache, then takes a step towards you. "Also," you continue, "I need to apologise. I shouldn't have doubted you, that time with your parents. I went too far, and I shouldn't have." Jeno shakes his head vigorously, "No, no! I deserved everything I got. If anything, I'm happy you're even willing to have me," He takes your hands in his, leans his forehead against yours, and feels the tension in his shoulders that had been there for who knows how long, finally release. "Could I- Would I be able to-" He sighs in annoyance at himself, and you feel a genuine smile begin to form for the first time in what seems like a long time. "Can I kiss you?" He asks, hesitant to overstep a boundary. You close your eyes, look into his, and see no secrets there. "Yes," you whisper. Jeno kisses with emotion - like you're a fragile thing he simply mustn't break, but also like he'll never see you again. Jeno puts everything he couldn't put into words into this kiss, as though its your own secret language - a language you had no difficulty understanding. As he cups your cheeks, leans back a little, and simply looks, deeply, into your eyes, you catch the second of his unspoken  messages. I love you, his eyes say. I love you, say yours.

[superpickthewise20posts-blog]

Consistently is Dewsday in the timberland …

The dew point is ‘the temperature to which a volume of muggy air must be cooled … for water fume to gather into fluid water in any case, 'what is the purpose of dew’? That is an alternate inquiry, however one which may have been replied by Michael Latakos et al. – at any rate in a herbal setting. In their interesting investigation (New Phytologist194: 245–253, 2012) they exhibit that dew – 'dense water that structures on a strong surface’ – is produced on the bark of understorey trees in a marsh woodland in French Guiana until early evening, due to the warm properties of the trunks.

This broad window of hydration – up to 0·69 mm of dewfall a day –Pickthewise is instrumental in dragging out photosynthesis, of epiphytic crustose lichens specifically. The group recommend that this wonder might be a progressively broad component of woodland environments around the world, and this up to this point unrecognized system of early afternoon dew arrangement adds to the water supply of most corticolous (bark-staying) life forms.

Decent work! Notwithstanding the article, I likewise prescribe Michael Proctor’s astute discourse consequently (New Phytolologist194: 10–11, 2012). Incidentally, however, comparative decisions about the significance of dew were come to by Khumbudzo Maphangwa et al., who analyzed an inside and out drier condition where 'differential capture attempt and dissipation of mist, dew and water fume and basic aggregation by lichens clarify their relative bounty in a waterfront desert’ (Journal of Arid Environments82: 71–80, 2012). Similarly as new hydrobotanical revelations are made over the ground, updates on another, down beneath. Utilizing neutron tomography, Ahmad Moradi and associates have evaluated and 3-D pictured the water content in situ in the rhizospheres of chickpea (Cicer arietinum), white lupin (Lupinus albus) and maize.

Finding that – irrationally – soil water content expanded towards the root surface for every one of the three animal categories, the group recommend that plants change the pressure driven properties of the rhizosphere’s dirt in a manner that improves water take-up under dry conditions. This 'repository’ of water can be seen as a save that enables the plants to conquer brief times of dry season. Pressure driven lift  Rebecca Neumann and Zoe Cardon, New Phytologist194: 337–352, 2012), anybody?

In attempting to urge my understudies to consider the structure–work issues in being a land plant, I frequently joke that all plants truly need to be trees when they grow up, to order assets, conceal out rivalry, and so on. Also, you can – nearly – trust it is valid; all things considered, greeneries seek to be trees , monocots need arborescence, cycads are wannabe mammoth redwoods, and even the grasses contain bamboos .

What’s more, why not? This living thing is a definitive exhibit of the grandiose statures that can be scaled without anyone else supporting natural structures utilizing the most essential of 'fixings’ (tallest surviving tree – purportedly – is a coast redwood, Sequoia sempervirens, at 115·56 m. Also, ostensibly, trees speak to the longest-lived living thing on earth – 9554 years for a Norway tidy in Sweden (James Owen, National Geographic News April 14, 2008).

Furthermore, it’s no mishap that the entire of creation is imagined as branches on the TREE of life. All things considered, another lift to yearning of the way of life ligneous – on the off chance that it were required – Here pickthewise is given by Stagoll et al. (Protection Letters5: 115–122, 2012), who underline the significance of enormous trees as 'cornerstone structures’ in urban stops in giving 'urgent living space assets for untamed life’, particularly feathered creatures. Cornerstone structures are 'particular spatial structures giving assets, safe house or “merchandise and enterprises” significant for other species’ (Tews et al., Journal of Biogeography31: 79–92, 2004), and are unmistakable from the more recognizable idea of cornerstone species.

This exploration stresses the environment administrations job of trees and broadens a past report by three of the present paper’s co-creators (Manning et al., Biological Conservation132: 311–321, 2006) on the cornerstone job of trees in less urban – however similarly human-oversaw – situations. Review trees right now makes the significant point that even a dead structure can assume a significant job in biology; what better heritage for a real existence? Which leads on to your finish of-year Botany Exam question: 'Trees contribute more in death than when alive. Examine’. [I’m so happy that Mr P. Cuttings opposed the compulsion to ask: 'What did Mack Sennett call a little gathering of trees? Answer: A cornerstone thicket’ – Ed.

What does ethnobotany intend to you?

I’m most likely not the only one in partner ethnobotany with stories of derring-do, normally including difficult treks through insufferably hot, mosquito-pervaded, infection ridden marshes or wildernesses in remote of the tropics looking for 'goodness-comprehends what-however we’ll-remember it-when-we-discover it’. Indeed, ethnobotany – which endeavors to 'report, portray and clarify complex connections among societies and (employments of) plants, concentrating fundamentally on how plants are utilized, overseen and seen across human social orders’ – isn’t confined to the more difficult to reach portions of the world.

It tends to be discovered right close to home, as Łukasz Łuczaj and Monika Kujawska exhibit in their investigation of wild nourishment plants recollected by Polish botanists during youth (Botanical Journal of the Linnean Society168: 334–343, 2012). Their recognitions were contrasted with ethnobotanical concentrates from the 21st and mid-twentieth Centuries.

Two of the ethnobotanical examines provided more extravagant material on past starvation plants, though the botanists referenced many outsider plants and plants from urban natural surroundings not referenced in the ethnographical investigation. Unfortunately(!), the investigation reasoned that, in spite of the fact that botanists are perhaps the best wellspring of data for investigations of contemporary or new employments of plants, they were insufficient for utilizes that are vanishing.

As we face an eventual fate of dubious nourishment security, it will be progressively critical to recognize 'overlooked’ nourishment plants, regardless of whether at home or abroad, and to meet the individuals who have that neighborhood information. Albeit oft-disparaged, these alleged 'nearby information frameworks’ (LKSs), which 'comprise of the information, convictions, conventions, practices, organizations, and perspectives created and continued by indigenous and neighborhood networks’, merit (request?) to be abused for their 'latent capacity and built up estimation of ethnobiological information and its related plant and creature assets for nearby networks and society everywhere’ (Ina Vandebroek et al., Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine7: 35, 2011). Thus, much as I like botanists, if it’s a decision between the 'savvy lady’ realistic

Pharmacopeia Shakespeariensis

Proceeding with an ethnobotanical topic, another incredible wellspring of data in regards to society employments of plants is the compositions of the Bard of Avon , England’s own special quillmeister, William Shakespeare. Take, for instance, this line from Hamlet (Act 4, Scene V); Ophelia (to Laertes), 'rosemary, that is for recognition . Old spouses’ story , or wise counsel (sorry, play on words recognized, however accidental)? Work by Mark Moss and Lorraine Oliver (Therapeutic Advances in Psychopharmacology, in press, 2012) proposes the last mentioned.

They have shown that presentation on psychological undertakings is fundamentally identified with convergence of assimilated 1,8-cineole (eucalyptol: 1,3,3-trimethyl-2-oxabicyclo[2,2,2]octane – a constituent of rosemary, Rosmarinus officinalis, basic oil). The impacts were found for both speed and exactness results; which isn’t actually 'recognition’, however related. Of more straightforward association in treating mind related disarranges is news that a semi-refined concentrate of the foundation of Withania somnifera 'turns around Alzheimer’s sickness pathology by improving low-thickness lipoprotein receptor-related protein in liver’ (Neha Segal et al., PNAS109: 3510–3515).

I’m not so much sure what this implies, however I do realize it is welcome and empowering news for Alzheimer infection (AD) sufferers, since AD is the 'most basic type of dementia … for which there is no fix … and which intensifies as it advances and inevitably prompts passing … and is anticipated to influence 1 of every 85 individuals all inclusive by 2050. Alright, so much for the AD transgenic mice – in which test-living beings the work was performed – shouldn’t something be said about the human sufferers? Almost certainly treatment for those well evolved creatures is still a few years awa https://pickthewise.com/best-outdoor-wifi-cameras.

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Communis (Eros p.t 3)

Billy Hargrove x reader, Jonathan Byers x Reader (unrequited)

Word Count: 3816

Warnings: cursing, fighting, reckless driving, awkwardness

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: @steveharringtonofficial @denimjacketkisses @flamehairedwritings @hotstuffhargrove @hargroovin

Series Tag: @hargrovesgoldilocks @wtf-richarddd @sighsophiia @baebee35 @toriasaysso

Feedback Appreciated!

You spent the afternoon panicking, as per usual. It was fairly normal for you to be upset by the end of the day, although usually it was over more commonplace things like tests and assignments, not the attention of a stranger.

Billy Hargrove was bad news. He had made his reputation known and unlike the guys who pretended to be tough for attention, he actually seemed to be as tough as he seemed. He was a festering ball of anger and hatred, ready to swing at the first person who looked at him funny.

But there was something underneath that, something deeper that hid in his eyes and ghosted his words. You couldn’t quite find the word for it-it wasn’t love and you’d hardly call it affection, it was this strange softness that hid underneath, the underbelly of the beast kept safe from attackers.

That intrigued you, knowing that he might have a soul hidden underneath the denim and the sneers. But that was about the only enticing thing about. He was brash, angry, and unforgiving, single minded in his ambitions and almost unfazed by normal human fears. He thought keg stands were chick magnets and a smirk could get him everything he wanted and more. He was aggressive, a wolf without guise or ambiguity. You, at your toughest, were more easily compared to a lap dog. You cried with you got into arguments; you were eager to please and unafraid of self-sacrificing favours and gestures.

If Billy Hargrove was a Molotov cocktail, you were a Shirley Temple.

But you were going out with him; God knows why, the whole situation made you feel uncomfortable and sad. Still, when the clock struck seven, you were jumping out of the shower and plugging in your blow dryer. Did you care about Billy Hargrove? No, at least you didn’t think you did. But here you were, dissecting your appearance in the mirror, trying to decide if you should bother trying to paint a pretty face onto you own. Something in you wanted to impress him, maybe it was because he was the first person to ever really seem serious when he offered to take you out, maybe it was just something you had to prove to yourself-that you were worth taking out. Either way, you sat at your mirror looking at yourself with an eyeliner pencil in hand, trying to decide if it was really worth nearly poking your eye out to impress Billy fucking Hargrove.

You weren’t exactly fantastic with makeup; sure you could apply mascara and a bit of lip gloss without much fuss, but beyond that you were a disaster waiting to happen. You had all the tools, mostly from gift sets gifted by clueless family members, but no idea what to do with them. Still, you were game to try, so you spent the next forty minutes trying to figure out how to use everything you had, only to give up as time ticked closer to departure. You rubbed your face near raw with makeup remover before applying your everyday look-mascara, concealer, and a bit of lip gloss-and buttoning up your sky blue silk blouse, tucking the front into your jeans. You looked yourself over once in the mirror, frowning slightly at your reflection. You didn’t think you exactly looked beautiful, in fact you thought you looked insanely plain and dull, but you had no time to fix it and no idea how, so you grabbed your black jean jacket off the back of your chair and peaked out your bedroom door. You could hear your mother’s TV playing softly from her bedroom.

Your mother had been bedridden for months she lost her job at Hawkins Elementary, and while she was doing better now, nights like these left her emotionally unavailable and physically stuck in the divot she’d made in the mattress, remote clutched in her fist as reruns of M.A.S.H played before Colombo and blankets pulled up to her chin, tears staining her cheeks. The dim column of light cast a yellow glow to the dark hallway and you tiptoed out of your room, flicking off the light and pulling your worn brown purse across your chest. You crept slowly down the stairs, avoiding the creaky steps and, hitting the hardwood floor, you scurried to the front door, pulling on your shoes with your eyes locked on the front window.

You could hear Billy before you saw him or his car, all thanks to his intensely loud music, Aerosmith blasting from his tinny speakers and tired squealing against asphalt. You heard the car park and you rushed to pull on your jacket, shoving your house keys into your pocket.

“I’m going out mom! I’ll be back by curfew!” you called upstairs, pulling open the door, revealing a bored looking Billy, hands shoved into his pockets languidly, eyes trailing the house’s structure.

“You physic or some shit?” Billy asked sarcastically when his eyes met your wide, nervous ones.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you whispered tightly, pushing past him to get outside, slamming the door before you could hear your mother’s response.

“Coming to pick you up, why are you being so bitchy?” he countered, turning to follow you as you marched down your driveway towards his death trap of a car.

“Did I tell you to come to the door?” you asked. Billy looked at you dumbfounded, raising an eyebrow at you. “No, no I didn’t because I didn’t want you to.”

“Jesus, I try to do one nice thing for you and-” he started, turning to look at the trees rather than you, a pissed off look washing over his face.

“It isn’t nice if I didn’t want it!” you cried. You were at an impasse-Billy didn’t know that you didn’t want the whole gentlemanly spiel and you didn’t know that he was going to bother. The only thing left to do was let it go.

You let out a sigh through your nose, rubbing a hand over your face. “Look,” you said “I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch, you were trying to be nice and I blew up.”

Billy nodded, kissing his teeth as his eyes trailed back to yours. “Yeah, yeah you are, but whatever, let’s just go.” He replied and you took that as some strange acceptance of your apology and you nodded, pulling open the passenger seat door and climbing in, crossing your arms over your chest.

Billy still drove erratically with you in the front seat next to him, but he slowed down just a little, watching you from the rear view mirror with nervous, short glances. He didn’t try to strike a conversation with you nor did he attempt to turn down the music he blasted in your ears, though he didn’t stop you when you reached over to volume dial to turn it down just a little to save your eardrums.  

He hadn’t told you what you were doing or where you were even going, but you oddly weren’t worried. As much as didn’t want to end up in the middle of nowhere, you trusted yourself to be able to get out of the situation. You shoved your hands in your pockets, running your fingers over the tiny pocket knife on your key ring. Sure, the blade was tiny but you trusted it to do enough to hurt him so you could get away, worst come to worst you could probably take out one of his eyes if he tried anything.

Those were the thoughts you had in your head constantly, always planning your next move, your escape from danger not revealed yet. To say you were high strung was an understatement-you were a ticking time bomb of fear and stress, ready to pounce whenever the cause arrived; hunched low with shifty eyes watching your prey with fear and caution. Sometimes you wondered what it was like to be completely carefree, to be at complete ease almost all the time, but the idea of being that vulnerable to threat, that calm in the seas of life’s dangers sounded like a risk too high for you to take. Staying scared would work well for you.

You hadn’t noticed that Billy had driven to the diner at the edge of Hawkins, once owned by a nice man named Benny and now run by his sorrowful brother and sister-in law. You were fine with this, at least you knew where you were, but when you went to open the door to follow him out, he shook his head.

“Do you actually give a shit what I get?” he asked gruffly. You shook your head, almost dumbfounded by the question. You didn’t give a shit what you ordered but you’d like the choice. “Then stay put.” He said, slamming his door before you could interject or complain.

You sat in the huff in his car, eyes scanning the dark forest just across the road, watching the trees sway softly in the breeze. Surprisingly, for your anxiety, you loved the woods at night. Was it full of danger? Yes, but it was the most peaceful place in Hawkins since no one dared to go in it anymore. You found the whole place to be soothing, surrounded by nature and the simple sounds of the environment around you.

Billy was gone long enough to make you wonder if he’d forgotten you altogether. You giggled at the image of him screaming when he found you hours later in his car. You were certain he’d probably pee himself out of shock and fear, which lifted your spirits immensely, bringing a smile to your face for the first time that evening.

Of course, Billy chose that moment to return, a big brown paper bag in one hand, keys dangling from its key ring off his index finger. He watched you for a moment, an odd feeling coming to his chest. You looked, for the first time that night, at peace and now your tense body language read as a bad start to him. Still, Billy Hargrove didn’t put aside his own annoyance from the beginning of the night. He was too proud to meet your newfound breezy smile, watching the woods from the windshield, and instead he ripped open the door roughly, startling you from your dreamlike fantasies.

He tossed the bag of food into your lap and jabbed the keys into the ignition, revving the engine and reversing quickly out of the parking lot, pulling out of the restaurant and back onto the main roads.

You sighed, feeling your good mood slip away and your gaze returned to the passenger side window, propping your head up on the palm of your hand, steadying your elbow on the door handle. You didn’t bother to meet Billy’s eye when he glanced over at you, though you knew he was from his reflection in the glass whenever his head turned to yours just for a moment.

Unlike before, you noticed when he turned into the woods and, this time, you got a bit worried. Not because you thought he was going to hurt you, but instead what he was expecting of you. You weren’t experienced and you didn’t want to do anything with him to begin with.

Billy seemed to sense this, chuckling darkly. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna make you do anything, no matter what Stacy thinks we’re doing out here.” He joked.

You blushed scarlet, muttering to yourself “God damn it, Stacy…” Billy only laughed at your distressed expression, his tongue running over his teeth. He had heard you talking a lunch, truth be told he had been looking out for you, if only to bother you again, but after hearing what you and Stacy were discussing, he decided to leave you be. But he couldn’t pretend that the whole conversation he’d overheard embarrassed him in a way he’d never felt before. Girls talked about him all the time, about what they’d do to him if given the shock, usually it made his ego grow tenfold, but hearing your embarrassed posturing made him want to burst in and tell Stacy to shut up and go back to sucking off Bryce Myers behind the bleachers. But instead he walked away with his best attempt at a smirk, trying to remind himself that it was normal and he shouldn’t give a shit what you say about him behind his back.

He didn’t push you on the subject of your discussion, instead parking by the quarry. This choice boosted your confidence; guys who wanted something from a girl would take her out to Mason Point, where Hawkins’s very own lover’s lake drew in couples looking for a strange combination of privacy and social status and publicity. He took you somewhere no one goes, sure, but it wasn’t make out point or anything. So you tried to keep your calm, not commenting when he wrenched the bag from your hands, pulling out a wax paper wrapped burger and a paper cup of fries, handing you the bag back.

“So, you moved here from California, right?” you tried. You didn’t know much about dating but you knew that talking was generally the right idea.

Billy shook his head, taking a giant bite of his burger.

You furrowed your brow “What…” you began, only to be cut off again, a palm flashing a universal stop sign in your face, much to your annoyance.

“I fucking hate small talk, can’t fucking stand it, and since we aren’t fooling around out here we’re not gonna talk unless one of us thinks of something really interesting to say.” He announced through a mouthful of food.

You rolled your eyes “Sure, fine, whatever…” you muttered, pulling out whatever Billy had ordered for you, a carbon copy of his order. Out of habit, you pulled off the top bun, picking off the insane amount of pickles on it and dropping them onto the wrapper.

Billy watched you with a grimace, muttering “You said you didn’t care…” he shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t like pickles, sue me.” You bit back, earning a scoff from the boy. “I thought we were only having interesting conversations.” You said, turning to look at him. Billy shot you an annoyed look, shoving fries into his mouth. You smirked when he didn’t retort, taking in the tiny win you’d gotten.

The silence in the car was uncomfortable. You felt this desperate need to fill the void, to come up with something interesting to say to end the nightmare. But you were too proud to try, to get shut down again. You weren’t too proud to admit your boredom in other ways though and you reached into your purse and pulled out a worn copy of On the Road, flipping open to the dog eared page and settling in to read, unclipping your seatbelt and pulling one of your legs under you.

“No feet on the seats.” Billy snapped, turning to look at you again. “Are you seriously reading right now? You’re on a God damn date.”

“Since you insist on not talking, I thought I’d fill the damn void my way! Better than sitting in painful silence, waiting for death…” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I can’t fucking win with you, can I? I try to do the princely shit and I get yelled at, I do things my way and I get yelled at. Make up your fucking mind!” he cried.

“Treat me like a fucking person!” you retorted, matching his volume. “I don’t know why you’re fucking bothering with this shit if you can’t even act like I’m a damn person! I’m allowed to freak out when I’m surprised, I’m sorry if I didn’t drop my panties because you decided to come to the door to meet me instead of honking at me from the car. Treat me like a damn person or take me home.”

Billy didn’t respond. He didn’t move, you swore he didn’t even swallow to mouthful of chewed food he’d started on while you were talking. But his face had changed. His jaw wasn’t tight, his eyes wide instead of narrowed in a sneer. The tension in the air began to settle and you began to feel that stupid guilty feeling you’d felt back on your driveway.

You dropped your head, sighing loudly. “Look,” you began, this time softer and more vulnerable “If my mother had known someone was meeting me at the house, she would’ve felt like she needed to get up, try to be a hostess. I don’t need her putting on airs with anyone. If Stacy or Nancy had tried to come to the door, I would’ve done the same thing. It wasn’t about you, I’m sorry if I emasculated you or something.”

Billy nodded, swallowing hard “Your mom sick or something?” he asked quietly.

“Not physically.” You replied. You intentionally kept things vague, not wanting to bring up your mother and the reasons she’d gotten the way she was. It hurt too much to discuss, especially with a near stranger.

“I get it.” Billy said, surprising you. “I was the same way with my mom, didn’t want to make a fuss or anything.” You nodded, your mouth lifting into a halfway smile, the right corner of your mouth lifting while the other stayed down. “I wouldn’t want anyone coming to my door now anyway.” He added, earning a laugh from you, and though he didn’t think what he said was very, he liked the way you laughed, musical and sweet and soft.

“I’ll make a note of that, if I ever need to drunk-cry at you again, I won’t bother with the front door, I’ll scale the building or something with mascara blurring my eyes, nearly die for a quick, judgemental hug.” You giggled, the image of you in your Halloween costume shimming up someone’s drain pipe and climbing up the roof just to be made fun of by Billy Hargrove.

Luckily for you, Billy seemed to also find the idea funny, chuckling darkly. His lips turned into a soft, genuine smile, making him look very innocent. His laugh was softer too, nothing like the mean bark he let out with Tommy and Carol as the made fun of the somewhat ridiculous Steve Harrington.

“So, wait, can I ask? Why the fuck were you crying at Tina’s thing? Over freak Byers of all people.” Billy asked, watching you carefully.

“You ever want somebody who didn’t want you?” you asked, earning a shrug from the boy across from you “That’s what I thought, you don’t get it, but I really liked him and I thought he like me too, turns out though he’s just interested in Nancy, so I broke down, blame the alcohol.” You explained, your eyes darting to the swaying trees, too embarrassed to look at him anymore.

“And so you broke down in public?” he pressed sceptically. He wasn’t fully convinced that you were telling the truth, he was sure something more had to have happened to cause such a reaction.

“I-I guess I couldn’t hold it back, I usually can.” You stuttered “Why did you come over to bug me then? You definitely had better things to do while I was crying.” You countered, pushing the focus onto him. Your eyes locked onto his for the first time without speaking, causing Billy to pause before he spoke, watching you. And there was that strange feeling again, filling his stomach with a strange buzz he couldn’t label. He should want to look away, but he couldn’t seem to look away.

Billy shrugged, his eyes breaking away from your stare; he looked calm, which pissed you off, you hated being the only nervous or awkward person in any situation. And his eyes were so blue you swore you had been drowning in them just moments ago, warm and sympathetic and the only true source of his true emotions.

“Got a headache from all the blood going to my head, went to bug Harrington again and found you crying, I hate seeing people kill the atmosphere of a party, went to shut that shit down.” He explained.

Was that anywhere near true? No. He wasn’t going to bother Steve, he’d heard the crying while he was outside smoking and went to investigate. He hadn’t even doing keg stands when he found you, the cheering was from the dwindling group still watching as Vicki Masterson was officially crowned keg queen.

You hummed “Well, I guess that’s fair, but why kiss me then?” you questioned.

“Why not?” he countered.

“I don’t know, drunk crying with gross makeup smears down my face doesn’t seem exactly attractive.” You replied. You hadn’t realized how much you were smiling until you felt your cheeks begin to hurt. That was strange, seeing as how you didn’t think Billy Hargrove could ever make you smile much less smile so much it hurt.

“I don’t know! You just…you looked like you needed to be kissed, is that a crime?” he asked. You watched him for a second, looking for a sign of some sort of joke, a trick to remind you of your place. But he looked oddly serious, which was stranger to you than him laughing at you.

“I don’t know yet…” you admitted, letting your gaze glance to your watch. “Shit, I gotta go if I’m gonna make curfew.” Billy nodded, turning the key and starting up the engine again, beginning the short drive back to your house.

The drive was quiet, filled with vague comments about the people who lived in town, judging them by the houses they lived in, earning chuckles from Billy, who watched you from the corner of his eye, smiling more than he had since he moved to your shithole town.

When he pulled up to the house, he turned off the engine again, watching you gather your things, picking up the garbage you’d made and crumpling it in your fist. “I can’t walk you to the front door, can I?” Billy asked jokingly.

You shook your head, giggling slightly “Nope, but I’ll see you around, yeah?” you replied.

“We go to the same school, I’ll have to see you.” Billy replied deadpan. You nodded, popping open the door and hopping out onto the sidewalk, pulling your purse onto your shoulder.

“Well, goodnight Billy.” You said.

“Night, Y/N.” you slammed the door, jogging up the driveway and up the steps to your front door. You didn’t need to turn around to know that he hadn’t sped off the second the door was shut. Still, you didn’t look back, instead you unlocked the front door and rushed inside, shutting the door quickly behind you. Your back hit the door as you reflected on the night you just had.

“What the fuck just happened?”