#Even it it’s not his favorite song I still think he could relate to it quite a bit

[fenicearts420]

Idk why, but for some reason, my brain is developing a headcanon where if Mr. Puzzles has a favorite song, it would be one that got scrapped from a certain movie or is from a deleted scene like the song, “No One Would Listen” from a deleted scene from the 2004 Phantom of the Opera movie. I feel like he could relate to that one a lot or to something similar, but hey, what do I know? It’s just a guess at this point! It’s just a theory!

[esote-rika]

to talk is to bare | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: hurt/comfort, fluff Summary: three times you've never felt enough for Spencer Reid—and the three times he rectified it immediately Content: insecure reader, written with early s2 Spencer in mind (glasses!Spencer rawr), reader wears makeup, implied bad relationships in the past, Spencer is just a sweetheart Word count: 2.4k A/N: entry for #lovers1kevent (congrats @mggslover muah) - the lyric prompt for this is “And I knew how you took your coffee and your favorite songs by heart, I read all of your (self help) books so you'd think that I was smart” from enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo. This was supposed to just be pure angst but apparently, I can't write this man as anything other than the perfect boyfriend.

“Well, actually, Dostoevsky intended the book to be a critique on certain schools of thoughts and ideologies, namely...”

You stare at your boyfriend, nodding along as he explains the intricacies and historical context of Notes from the Underground to you. His smile is kind and excited when he stops, looking at you expectantly.

“Right.” the smile on your face isn't forced, per se, but neither does it reach your eyes. How many times has it happened this month? It isn’t that you’re keeping count of all the times he’s corrected you—truthfully, you can’t, because you’ve lost count. And that’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? The fact that you can’t even keep track of his corrections anymore, because he does it all the time. 

You remind yourself he's not doing this to deliberately make you feel stupid, your memory immediately calling forth all the times you've seen him correct other people — his teammates, the cashier at your favorite bookstore, a random person in the park. It's never pointed, nor is the act laced with anything but genuine, loving desire to share his knowledge. He's not like the men you've had to deal with in the past, the ones who jump at every opportunity to show off that they know more than you, that they're correct and you're wrong.

But this is Spencer. Sweet, wholly inexperienced, awkward. Half the time, he doesn't know how he comes across, and you've been dating him long enough to understand that. 

No, his corrections aren’t the crux of the issue. In fact, it isn’t even him. It’s you, and all the treacherous thoughts running through your mind. This damn book you’d read because you saw a dog eared copy in his satchel one day, pushing through pages upon pages of dense material just to catch up and relate with him, only to still come up short and have yourself be corrected.

The sting is still there, lingering and acrid in the back of your tongue. You cannot pinpoint it yet, this But it's Spencer Reid, so you grit your teeth and remind yourself not to take it personally. The words slip out easily. You could almost believe they aren’t lies. “Thank you for letting me know.”

The beam on his face is a reminder that not everyone is as patient, that he's come to expect looks that range from baffled to downright annoyed. Nobody else allows him free reign to talk like this, long winded rambles that get nipped at the bud with a sharp Reid. He smiles, beams at you, and this time the smile on your lips finally reaches your eyes.

“So what did I get wrong?”

“You weren’t wrong,” he’s pulling you in as he answers, lips finding the underside of your jaw and the bitterness dissipates, sweetens into something that makes your toes curl, “Just a little inaccurate.”

Your body melts into him easily. “You don't have to sugarcoat with me.”

“I'm not, it's literature. You can interpret it however you want, I just thought knowing the rest of the context would help you with your opinion.” he's kissing down your neck, breaths ghosting over your skin as he continues to talk, and you sink into his arms, forgetting why you were even feeling annoyed in the first place.

You’re not sure if you like the color you’ve put to make your cheeks flush. It's always been a point of contention in the past, your exes saying you don't put enough effort in, so this time with Spencer, you try. Even though you're not the best at it, even though you feel a little foolish because it seems a little too bright despite all of your hurried attempts to blend it a little more. But it’s too late to change now. You don’t want to go through the whole deal of reapplying your makeup because that would mean running late, so you ignore it and head to the cafe quickly. 

Spencer isn't there yet. You order your drinks, his black and into which you dump an exorbitant amount of sugar. Memorization is his thing, but you've come to learn a thing or two about him in the time you two are dating.

He's a few minutes late, and when he arrives, Spencer’s eyes lock on you. Or, more specifically, your cheeks.

“That bad?” you tease, standing from your seat and leaning over for a kiss. 

“You don’t have the coloring for that shade of red.”

Your brow knits as you pull away. Attempting to hide the flood of insecurity that swept through your chest, you let out a chuckle. Soft, shaky, and accompanied with a confused, “What?”

“It makes your cheeks look a little inflamed.”

“Oh.” 

Regret fills your chest, settling in your lungs until it’s difficult to breathe. You should have trusted your instincts and scrubbed the makeup off. Shouldn’t have tried something new on the one day the two of you can go out. He’s probably embarrassed by you. How silly, being a full grown woman wearing makeup bordering on clownish. 

He must have caught the hurt in your voice, the way your body deflates because he’s quick to remedy. “Hey, what’s that look for?”

It should embarrass you, the speed at which he picks up on your emotions. But he’s a profiler after all, he’s specifically trained for this, but sometimes you wish he doesn’t use it against you. Gentle hands cup your face. Cold hands, perpetually so until you’ve started keeping them between yours. They tilt your head up. 

“Talk to me.” 

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you say is ever stupid.”

You smile, “No, I think we both know that’s a lie.”

He relents. He knows you’re right; there are moments where you don’t make sense. “Not stupid, just…” his eyes roam your face while he searches for the word to use as compromise, as though he’ll find it tucked somewhere in your pretty features, “Lapses in discernment.”

You roll your eyes at his fancy vernacular, the attempt to soothe his mistake. “I think I prefer the layman’s term.” 

Spencer laughs sheepishly, then presses his lips to your forehead, “I’m never using that to describe you.” he murmurs against your skin, and then, “I'm sorry.”

Antarctica could melt from the warmth in your chest.  “You don't even know what you're apologizing for.”

“I upset you. That's reason enough.”

You sigh, pulling him to join you on the plush booth seat you'd managed to secure for your date. “Well, there's nothing to forgive.”

He accepts the coffee you hand him, corners of his mouth curved in a gentle smile. He sips, and you stew in silence, knowing that you shouldn't be leaving him guessing like this. He'd want to know, you can tell by the way he's studying you, the way he wants to examine and turn over your thoughts and reactions like he does with everything else in his life. But he waits, lets you open up if you so wish.

God, he's perfect.

“I was just having second thoughts about my makeup,” you murmur finally, “And you kind of confirmed it. I told you it's stupid.”

“Not stupid at all. I'm sorry,” you wonder if he takes his coffee sweet to match his personality, this asshole, “It was an insensitive comment. And for what it's worth, you look beautiful regardless.”

“Inflamed cheeks and all?” 

He laughs, pulling you to his side, lips firmly planted on your cheek “Inflamed cheeks and all.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have worn the blush after all; you're sure he's making you flush scarlet just by being such a sweetheart.

“Oh Spencer knows her.” the teasing tone in Derek Morgan’s voice normally makes you smile, but something about his tone makes you pause. You stare at the TV, where a new show is running, eyes zeroed in on the blonde actress.

“Spencer knows her?”

“Knew,” your boyfriend supplies, “Very briefly.”

Derek Morgan gives him a knowing smirk that has your stomach churning all the way to the end of the night, when you’re getting ready for bed.

You're in his apartment, in an old pair of his plaid pajamas and a t-shirt that fits you surprisingly well. It always makes you smile, his slight frame, the way you could easily steal his clothes and they wouldn't dwarf you too much. But tonight, Derek's words ring over and over again, bringing forth the image of her—Lila Archer, dazzling, perfectly curvy, an actress on a popular TV series… and apparently, a friend of his. You aren't really sure where this jealousy is coming from. He’s a trustworthy man, and you know he loves you. Still, the image of the beautiful actress persists, even as you climb into bed with him.

He's reading as he usually is, the low lamplight casting shadows over the sharp planes of his face. Without even looking, he shifts the book to his other hand, freeing up an arm to draw you to his body. It's easy, quiet, his heartbeat fluttering beneath your ear as you rest your head on his chest. The exact opposite of your own heartbeat right now.

“What's on your mind?” 

“Nothing.” It should be a sin, the way you keep denying your feelings. But it's just so silly, and you're a grown woman. Jealousy and insecurity shouldn't be consuming you like this, and yet…

“Please don't lie to me,” his fingers are in your hair, tangling deep into the strands and seeking for your scalp. They’re soothing and rhythmic upon contact, lulling your body into a sense of relaxation even though your heart still hammers at your chest.

“Why do you say that?”

“You usually remind me to use the overhead lights when I read.” fingers putting pressure on your scalp, traveling to your temple. He has you in the palm of his hands, “You didn't do that tonight. And your heartbeat's going at an abnormally high rate, even though I'm quite certain you didn't do anything strenuous before coming to bed. What's going on?” 

Damn him and his attention to detail, and the way he’'s learned your little quirks and oddities. He puts down his book and you turn your face to hide into his chest.

You chew on your bottom lip, reminding youself that this is Spencer, he wouldn't judge. “How’d you know her?” your voice is muffled against his shirt, “Lila.”

“We had a case in Los Angeles.” he pauses, as if considering if he should say more. Right. Confidentiality. You nod, accepting his answer.

“Must have been a high profile one then,” you muse, “Or were you just hanging around Hollywood studios with Derek?” It’s an unfair statement, but you can’t help it.

“No, no, it wasn’t like that.” You look back up at him and oh there’s guilt swimming in pools of honey eyes. “I mean, we kissed once, but I swear, nothing beyond that.”

You exhale. A kiss. He's kissed a TV starlet. 

This shouldn’t even be an issue. This is before you were even in the picture after all. It’s not fair to uphold him to some weird standard. You certainly had relationships before him. But none of them had been as stunning as Lila Archer. And if he could have Lila Archer, then what is he doing with you? 

“Hey,” his other hand comes to stroke your cheek, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles, “Talk to me.”

It's a difficult thing, being mature and communicating when you just want to stew, but god he's so good, you can't punish him for this, for anything. “I thought you said I was your first girlfriend?” you say instead, teasing him.

“You are, but you know, I’ve kissed before, and been on dates—”

“With Lila?”

“No, with JJ.”

Oh.

“JJ?”

JJ? His lovely, warm spring day beauty coworker JJ? He went on a date with her? And kissed Lila Archer. It’s almost ridiculous, thinking about the type of women he's had dalliances with—lithe, blonde, perfect, before he settled with you. 

“Yeah, I took her to a Redskins game,” he says, his hold on your face still light. There's room to move if you want to, space to pull away should you need it and god he's just so perfect.

“You have a type, huh?” it comes out unbidden, sharp but dulled by a bitter laugh.

“What do you mean?”

“With women,” you reply, trying to temper the snappy tone of your voice. It's not fair to lash out at him like this, you know that, yet you can't help it. It's habit at this point, a form of defense that your exes have all been too happy to participate, “I'm the outlier.”

And apparently, he's an outlier too because his voice grows even softer, eyes searching your face with an anxiety that fills you with guilt. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” you sigh, arm draping over his waist and hugging him tight. 

He returns the favor, tangling your legs together until you're a mess of limbs under his sheets. “Then what's wrong?”

“Sometimes I just feel like—like I'm not good enough to be dating you.” there it is, whispered into his chest, striking straight to his heart. “And now, knowing that you could have had all of these — these women who could pass for models—”

“Angel,” the way he says the nickname makes you hide even further into his chest. He closes his arms around you, holding you so tightly it's difficult to breathe, but that's okay. Let him fuse your bodies together, let his breaths be yours too, “That's not true, you know that's not true.”

“Isn't it? You're so — you. Intelligent, well decorated in academia, an an elite FBI unit…”

He laughs, “I’m also an endlessly annoying know it all, I failed my gun license exam more than once, I don't have abs—”

“You don't need abs,” you counter, fingers clutching on his shirt.

“Wouldn't you rather be with a guy with a six pack?”

“I'd rather be with you.”

He gently moves away from you, hands finding your face to make you look at him. “And I'd rather be with you.”

You pout, “You can't use my words against me, ‘s not fair.” 

He laughs again, leaning to capture your lips in the gentlest of kisses, “I want you, I chose you, and I adore you,” he's murmuring between each kiss, hands cradling your face, “And if you have these thoughts again, tell me, so I can keep reminding you just how much I love you.” 

➺ My masterlist | Event masterlist

➺ thank you so much for reading <3

[mcrdvcks]

Dumb & Poetic

Summary: You like Logan, but he likes Jean. Right?

Word Count: 6k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: honestly, this isn't one of my favorites, but i just needed to write it to get it out of my head.

also, this is after the sabrina carpenter song, but this story has no relation to the lyrics whatsoever, i just thought the title was fitting

reader's powers are manipulating atoms (it'll make sense when you read)

warnings/tags: some uses of y/n, pet name (princess, sweetheart), miscommunication, light violence, blood, implied age gap

Even after going on ten missions and counting, you always found yourself nervous. Especially when you were getting onto the Blackbird, clad in your matching suits. The hum of the jet’s engines filled the air, but your mind was on Logan. He sat across from you, legs spread out, arms crossed over his chest, that usual scowl on his face. It was the way he always looked before a mission, but you couldn’t help but glance over a little too often.

Ororo slid into the seat next to you, her sharp eyes catching your lingering stare. “You know,” she said softly, leaning over slightly, “if you keep looking at him like that, you might as well say something.”

You blinked, face heating up. “What? I wasn’t—”

“Oh, please, Y/N,” Ororo chuckled under her breath. “I’m not blind.”

You sighed and slouched back into your seat, fiddling with the straps. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s Logan,” Ororo shrugged. “Everything about him is complicated. But that doesn’t mean you should hold back.”

You cast another glance across the cabin at him. Logan was still quiet, staring out the window now, completely unaware of the butterflies flipping around in your stomach. You didn’t want to admit it, but Ororo was right. There was something about Logan that made you pause. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to be in his own world, like he was still holding onto things from his past. Or maybe it was because of the way he looked at Jean sometimes, like there was still something unresolved there.

“I don’t think he’s over her,” you murmured, feeling the familiar weight of doubt settle in.

“Jean?” Ororo raised an eyebrow. “Please, Jean and Scott are practically married. Logan isn’t hung up on her anymore. If anything, he’s just... Logan.”

You nodded, but the doubt still lingered. It was hard to let yourself hope for something that seemed impossible. Besides, Logan saw you as the kid, didn’t he? He always called you ‘princess’ or ‘sweetheart’- terms of endearment, sure, but you figured he used them with everyone.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, Hank’s voice came over the intercom, snapping everyone to attention. “We’re approaching the target. This should be a routine recon and hopefully data extraction but keep your guard up.”

Logan stood, moving to the front of the cabin. “You heard him. We get in, get the intel, and get out. No heroics.”

You stood with Ororo, adjusting your gloves and trying to ignore the fact that your heart rate had picked up. It wasn’t the mission that had you on edge, but Logan’s presence, the way he effortlessly took command of the room. You hated how easily he affected you.

The Blackbird landed with a soft jolt, and the team moved into action. Logan gave you a nod as you passed, and you swore you saw something in his eyes—concern? Or maybe you were just seeing what you wanted to see.

As the team fanned out, you stayed close to Jean and Scott, your senses heightened. You were supposed to keep it simple, in and out. But things rarely went that smoothly.

A flicker of movement caught your eye just as Jean’s telepathy brushed against your mind. Y/N, we’re not alone. Be ready.

And then all hell broke loose.

Explosions rocked the compound as enemies swarmed in from every direction. You threw up your hands, quickly manipulating the air around you, converting oxygen molecules to corrosive acids to fend off the attackers. Beside you, Scott fired his optic blasts, and Jean’s telekinesis sent debris flying.

You ducked behind a large pole of concrete, peeking out at the attackers behind you. “Alchemy, think you can get to the data room and get what we came for?” Hank asked over comms, as he and Logan fought a group of attackers.

You took a deep breath and peeked out at the attackers. "I’ll do my best, Hank," you responded, scanning for a clear path to the data room. The explosions and gunfire made it difficult to focus, but you knew you had to move.

“Cover her!” Logan’s voice barked out, and you felt a small surge of determination. He was counting on you. The team was counting on you. It was almost too much pressure to bear.

Ororo and Jean moved to provide cover as you darted toward the entrance of the data room. You manipulated the chemicals in the air around you, creating a thick fog to obscure the attackers' vision, but it wouldn’t last long.

You slipped into the room and immediately went to work on the computer, fingers flying over the keyboard. The download started, but it was slow, and you could hear the chaos outside intensifying.

“Hurry it up, Alchemy!” Scott’s voice came over the comms, tension clear in his tone.

“Almost there,” you muttered, eyes glued to the screen. The progress bar crept forward, painfully slow. You glanced over your shoulder, half expecting an attacker to burst through the door at any moment.

A loud crash echoed through the room as part of the hallway imploded, sending dust and debris flying. You ducked, covering your head with your arms as the force of the blast knocked you off balance. The data was still downloading—just a few more seconds. But the chaos outside was getting worse.

"Y/N!" Logan's voice crackled through the comms, barely audible over the noise. "Get out of there, now!"

"Almost done!" you yelled back, heart pounding. The progress bar was at 95%. You just needed a little more time.

Another explosion rocked the compound, and you heard Logan shout something to the others. You could hear gunfire and the clash of metal against metal as the team fought off the attackers. Every second felt like an eternity.

"Got it!" you exclaimed as the download completed. You yanked the USB drive from the computer and turned to make your escape. You entered the open area where the rest of the team was fighting, just as part of the ceiling fell. Instinctively, you raised your hands and quickly converted the falling cement into water, which drenched you from head to toe.

You grimaced, pushing your wet hair from your face, but there was no time to focus on the discomfort. The fight was still raging, and Logan’s voice crackled over the comms again, "Princess, get out of there. Now."

“On my way!” you shouted, breaking into a sprint to rejoin the team. You dodged debris, your heartbeat in your ears, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

As you rounded the corner, Scott called out through comms, “everyone get dow- ”

Before you could react or shield yourself, a blast came from all around you, an explosion of some kind. You watched as Logan tackled Jean to the ground, shielding her. It was instinctual, he was only protecting a teammate, and Jean was the closest one to him. At least, that’s what you told yourself to feel better.

You hit the ground hard, your body skidding across the concrete before colliding with a pile of debris. Pain exploded in your side as you groaned, gasping for breath. Dazed, you tried to push yourself up, but your vision swam.

Your hand came down to your side, fingers grazing the sticky warmth on your glove. It wasn’t the water from earlier—you knew that now. The sharp pain spreading through your body confirmed it. You blinked, vision blurring for a second, but your focus quickly snapped back as your instincts kicked in.

"Princess, come in! Y/N!" Logan’s voice crackled over the comms, but it sounded distant, like he was yelling from the other side of a tunnel.

“I’m fine,” you groaned, struggling to push yourself to your feet. Your side screamed in protest, but you forced yourself to ignore it. You couldn’t afford to be down for long. Not when everything around you was falling apart.

You looked up to see Logan pulling Jean to her feet, his eyes scanning the battlefield before locking onto you. For a split second, his eyes widened, and then his expression darkened.

“Stay where you are,” Logan barked, already moving toward you, cutting through the debris and chaos like a force of nature. His claws were out, gleaming even in the dim light, but it wasn’t the enemies he was focused on. It was you.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, though the words felt weaker this time. The pain was growing worse, and you stumbled as you tried to take a step forward.

Logan was in front of you in an instant, his hands on your shoulders, steadying you before you could fall. “You’re not fine,” he growled, his voice low and rough. He looked down at your side, and his lips pressed into a tight line. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s just a scratch,” you lied, even as the pain in your side flared again, making it harder to breathe. You tried to step back, to shake off his hands, but Logan wouldn’t let you move.

“You are not fine,” Logan repeated, his eyes dark as they focused on the piece of metal lodged in your side. His hand hovered over it, the blood seeping from the wound making his jaw clench.

“Logan, seriously,” you breathed out, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

You tried to brush him off, to act like the sharp, burning pain radiating from your side wasn’t there, but Logan’s hands didn’t move from your shoulders. His grip was firm, almost like he was grounding you.

“Stop lying to me, Princess,” he growled softly, his eyes flicking from your face to the metal in your side. “It’s not nothing. I can smell the blood.”

The way he said it made your face flush, and for a second, you didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t just annoyed; he was worried. It was written all over his face, in the tension of his body, in the way his claws were still out, ready to strike at anything that came near.

“Logan- ” you started, but he cut you off.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, his voice low but commanding. “I’m getting this out.”

He knelt down in front of you, his large hands gently holding your waist. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine despite the situation. You bit your lip, trying to focus on something- anything- other than the way his hands felt on you.

“This is gonna hurt,” he warned, glancing up at you. His eyes softened just a bit, as if he was trying to reassure you.

“I’ll be fine,” you muttered, though the knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. It wasn’t the pain you were worried about.

Logan gave you a quick nod, then, with a sharp tug, he pulled the metal shard from your side. You bit down on a groan, your vision blurring for a moment as the pain shot through you. The wound was deeper than you’d realized, and the blood quickly soaked through your suit.

“Damn it,” Logan muttered under his breath, pressing his hand against your side to try and stop the bleeding. “We need to get you back to the jet. You’re losing too much blood.”

“I can handle it,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to stand up straighter. “We still have enemies out there. I’m not leaving the fight.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “The hell you aren’t.”

You tried to argue, but the pain flared again, and your vision swam. You stumbled, and Logan caught you easily, pulling you against him.

“Stubborn,” he muttered, his voice close to your ear now. “You’re as bad as me.”

“I learned from the best,” you said, trying to force a smile through the pain. But it was hard to keep the act up when your body was screaming at you to lie down, to rest.

Logan’s grip tightened on you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him. His body was solid and warm, and despite the chaos around you, there was something comforting about his presence.

“We’re getting you back to the jet, sweetheart,” Logan said, his voice soft but firm. “You’re not staying out here like this.”

“But- ” you started to protest, but Logan cut you off again.

“No ‘buts,’ princess. You’re hurt. Let the rest of us handle it.”

Before you could argue again, he gently but firmly hoisted you up into his arms. The movement made your side burn, but you were too stunned by the fact that Logan was carrying you to care.

“Logan, put me down,” you said, your face heating up in embarrassment. “I can walk.”

“Not happening,” he grunted, his arms strong and steady around you. “You can yell at me later if you want. Right now, we’re getting you patched up.”

You looked up at him, your heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. His face was set in that familiar scowl, but there was something else in his eyes. Concern? Maybe even fear?

“Logan, I’m fine,” you tried again, but your voice was weaker this time. The truth was, you were exhausted. The adrenaline was fading, and the pain was becoming harder to ignore.

Logan didn’t respond, his jaw tight as he carried you through the debris and chaos. You caught sight of Ororo and Scott still fighting off the last of the enemies, and Jean was using her telekinesis to hold back another explosion.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Jean’s voice cut through the noise, her eyes widening as she saw you in Logan’s arms.

“She’s hurt,” Logan said, not stopping as he headed for the jet. “I’m getting her out of here.”

Jean looked like she wanted to protest, but she gave a quick nod, her focus shifting back to the battle. “Go. We’ll finish up here.”

As Logan carried you back to the Blackbird, you couldn’t help but glance up at him again. His face was still set in that determined, protective expression, and your heart did another flip.

This wasn’t just about the mission anymore. There was something else between you two, something you had been too scared to admit to yourself. But now, with Logan holding you close, the weight of his concern for you pressing down on your heart, it was impossible to ignore.

So, for now, you let yourself enjoy the warmth of him around you, lingering in it for as long as you could. Because you knew this is the closest you were ever going to get to him holding you like he cared.

---

You blinked, hearing muffled arguing coming from outside the medbay, Jean coming over to your side. “Hey, there. You’ve been out for a day.”

“A day?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

“You sustained significant blood loss, but luckily the metal didn’t hit any organs, or it would be a much different story,” Jean said gently, her eyes watching you with concern.

You blinked a few times, your head still foggy from the whole ordeal. “A day? I’ve been out for a day?”

Jean nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. “You’re tougher than you think, Y/N. You just need to rest.”

You sighed, glancing around the medbay. The arguing from outside caught your attention again. Jean seemed to notice it too, her expression turning slightly more serious.

“Logan’s been a little... on edge since you were brought back,” she said carefully.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Logan. You tried not to let it show, but you’d always been bad at hiding your feelings. Jean gave you a small, knowing smile.

“Don’t worry about him. He just- well, you know Logan.”

You chuckled softly, though it hurt to do so. “Yeah, I know Logan.”

Jean gave you a sympathetic look, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “He’s been worried. More than usual.”

You raised an eyebrow. “More than usual?”

Jean nodded. “You know how he gets. All gruff and ‘I don’t care,’ but it’s just a front. He was pacing outside the medbay the entire time we were patching you up.”

The idea of Logan pacing, stressed about you, felt both strange and oddly comforting. It was hard to imagine him being that concerned over anyone—let alone you.

The door to the medbay creaked open, and Logan’s familiar, rugged form stepped inside. His eyes immediately locked on you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in the set of his jaw that told you he was angry. And worried.

Jean gave you a quick smile and a soft pat on your arm before standing. “I’ll give you two some space.”

As Jean left, the room fell into an awkward silence. Logan stood by the door for a moment, arms crossed, not moving. His eyes scanned you, probably taking in the bandages, the way you were still propped up on the medbay bed, looking a little worse for wear.

“Hey,” you said quietly, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. “I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are,” Logan muttered, walking over to your bed with heavy steps. He didn’t sit, just loomed at the foot of the bed, arms still crossed, his expression a mix of frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You blinked up at him, trying to push past the discomfort. “I’m fine, really. Jean said I’m tougher than I think.”

“Yeah, and you’re also reckless,” Logan shot back, his voice rough. “You almost got yourself killed out there, Princess.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, and you looked away, fiddling with the blanket. You liked it when he called you that, but at the same time it almost felt like he still saw you as a kid. “I didn’t mean to. I was just doing my job.”

Logan let out a sharp breath, and for a second, you thought he was going to start yelling at you. Instead, he sighed and finally sat down on the chair next to your bed. He rubbed a hand over his face, looking tired.

“I know you were doing your job,” Logan said, his voice quieter now. “But you gotta be more careful. I thought—” He cut himself off, his jaw clenching as he stared at the floor. “I thought I lost you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way he said it, like the very idea of you being gone was unbearable to him. You swallowed, unsure of what to say. You’d never seen Logan like this—so raw, so vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling a pang of guilt. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Logan glanced up at you, his eyes softening just a bit. “You scared the hell outta me, sweetheart.”

The nickname sent a familiar warmth through your chest, but this time it wasn’t just the usual flustered feeling. There was something more behind it, something deeper that you’d never allowed yourself to believe was possible.

“I didn’t mean to,” you repeated, feeling small under his gaze. “I just... I wanted to do my part.”

Logan’s expression softened even more, and he leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath. “I get that. You’re tough, Princess. But you’re also important. To the team... and to me.”

You blinked, your heart pounding. Did he just say that? Did Logan—Logan, of all people—just admit you were important to him? Your mind was racing, trying to process what he meant, but before you could say anything, Logan stood up abruptly, like he regretted letting those words slip.

“You need rest,” he said, his voice gruff again as he turned toward the door. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

Logan left the medbay, leaving you alone with the beeping machines.

---

A few days later you were released from the medbay and told to take it easy by Jean. Which you took to heart, perhaps a little too much.

You stayed in your room, only leaving at abnormal times to get food and water since you didn’t want to run into Logan. After all, you were young, practically a child to him, and all you wanted was for your crush on him to fade away like so many others did before.

That’s what you kept telling yourself. It didn’t make the ache in your chest any easier to handle. Your crush on Logan had always been this quiet thing, something you never intended to act on. But now, after everything, it felt like it had grown louder, more noticeable. And that scared you.

You sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed, idly fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Maybe you just needed to... talk to him. Be normal again. You’d been friends before, hadn’t you? It wasn’t like he knew how you felt, anyway.

Just as you were considering going for a walk to clear your head, there was a knock at your door. You froze.

“Y/N?” Ororo’s voice came from the other side, soft but steady. “You in there?”

You quickly got up, taking a deep breath before opening the door. Ororo stood there, arms crossed, giving you that look—like she knew exactly what was going on with you. It was unnerving, how she always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone emotionally.

“Hey,” you greeted, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

Ororo raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your attempt at nonchalance. “You’ve been hiding.”

You blinked. “I haven’t been hiding.”

Ororo gave you a look. “Please. I haven’t seen you at meal times, and Logan’s been extra grumpy. It’s not hard to put two and two together.”

You felt your face heat up. “Logan’s grumpy all the time.”

“He’s more grumpy than usual,” Ororo said, stepping into your room and closing the door behind her. “He’s been asking around. Wants to know why you’re avoiding him.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “He said that?”

Ororo nodded, leaning against your desk. “He won’t admit it’s bothering him, but it is. What’s going on?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you sat back down on the bed. “I just... I don’t know, okay? Things got weird after the mission, and I needed space.”

“Logan didn’t do anything wrong,” Ororo pointed out gently.

“I know,” you mumbled. “It’s not him. It’s me.”

Ororo tilted her head, studying you for a moment before sitting beside you on the bed. “You’re worried about how he sees you, aren’t you?”

You swallowed, nodding slowly. “I mean, kinda of. He doesn’t see me in the way I see him, y’know?”

Ororo gave you a knowing look, her lips quirking up slightly. "And how do you see him?"

You hesitated, feeling your face heat up again. "I... I don’t know. It's just... he’s Logan. He’s been through so much, seen so much, and I’m just… me. The kid who got lucky with mutant powers and likes chemistry too much."

Ororo smiled gently, shaking her head. "You’re selling yourself short, Y/N. You're a lot more than that. And Logan sees it."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Ororo held up a hand. "I’m not saying he knows exactly what he's feeling, but he's not as oblivious as you think. And trust me, the way he’s been acting lately, it’s clear you’re important to him."

You sighed, flopping back on the bed. "Maybe, but it’s not like that. It can’t be. He’s Logan—he doesn’t do the whole feelings thing."

Ororo chuckled softly. "You’d be surprised. He’s more in tune with his feelings than he lets on. He’s just… not used to showing them."

You frowned up at the ceiling. "Then why does it feel like I’m the only one getting all messed up over this?"

Ororo stood up, crossing her arms as she looked down at you. "Because you’re thinking too much, Alchemy. Maybe you should try talking to him instead of hiding."

"I’m not hiding!" you protested weakly.

"Uh-huh," Ororo said, raising an eyebrow. "Well, hiding or not, he’s not going to let this go. Logan’s stubborn like that."

You groaned, pulling a pillow over your face. "Great. That’s exactly what I need."

Ororo chuckled again. "Just… talk to him. It might help. You can’t avoid him forever."

You sighed, peeking out from under the pillow. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll think about it."

Ororo smiled softly before heading toward the door. "Good. And Y/N?"

You looked up at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Give yourself a little more credit," Ororo said gently. "You’re not just some kid to him. He cares about you. Maybe more than either of you realizes."

Before you could respond, she slipped out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and the knot of nervousness growing in your stomach.

---

The next day, you were wandering through the mansion’s empty halls after lunch. You weren’t hiding per se, but you were definitely avoiding a certain someone. Ororo’s words kept echoing in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that she was right. Talking to Logan was probably the only way to clear this weird tension between you, but the thought of actually doing it made you want to curl up and disappear.

As you turned a corner, lost in thought, you almost walked straight into him.

"Whoa, easy there, Princess," Logan’s gruff voice startled you as he steadied you with a hand on your arm. "Where you off to in such a hurry?"

You froze, looking up at him with wide eyes. "I-I wasn’t—uh, just wandering."

Logan raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical but amused. "You’ve been ‘just wandering’ a lot lately."

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. This was it. The moment you’d been dreading. He was right here, and there was no avoiding him now.

Logan sighed, his hand still resting lightly on your arm. "You’ve been avoiding me, sweetheart."

There it was. The thing you’d been trying to dodge. Your heart raced, and you shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze. "I haven’t been avoiding you."

Logan huffed, his expression softening a little. "I ain’t stupid, Y/N. You haven’t been around much since the mission. What’s goin’ on?"

You swallowed hard, feeling your palms start to sweat. "It’s nothing. I just... needed some space. That’s all."

Logan narrowed his eyes slightly, studying you. "Space from me?"

You looked down at your shoes, suddenly finding them very interesting. "Not exactly. I just... things got a little weird, okay?"

"Weird how?" Logan’s voice was still rough, but there was a hint of something gentler beneath it. Concern, maybe?

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. How were you supposed to explain that the reason you’d been avoiding him was because your stupid crush had spiraled into something much more confusing and intense? You couldn’t just blurt that out. Could you?

Logan’s grip on your arm tightened slightly, and he took a step closer, his voice low. "Talk to me, sweetheart. What’s goin’ on?"

You felt a lump form in your throat as you glanced up at him. He was so close now, and the familiar warmth in his eyes was making it hard to think straight.

"I just... I didn’t want to make things awkward between us," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan frowned, his brow furrowing. "Why would things be awkward?"

You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "Because I... I care about you, Logan. A lot. And I know you don’t feel the same way because you still like Jean- ”

Logan's frown deepened, and he shook his head almost immediately. "Jean? What’re you talkin’ about?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you bit your lip, feeling suddenly embarrassed. "I mean, I just assumed... everyone knows you used to have feelings for her, and it’s fine, really. I get it. I just didn’t want to make things weird by—"

"Y/N," Logan cut you off, his voice firm but not unkind. He stepped closer, his gaze locking with yours. "I ain’t thinkin’ about Jean like that anymore."

You blinked, caught off guard. "You’re not?"

Logan shook his head again, a hint of frustration slipping through. "No, sweetheart. That’s done with. It’s been done with for a while."

Your mind raced, trying to process what he was saying. If he wasn’t still hung up on Jean, then... What did that mean? Why had he been acting so tense around you?

"Then why have you been so... distant?" you asked softly, your voice wavering. "You’ve been acting weird too, Logan. It’s not just me."

Logan looked down for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck—a rare sign of discomfort from him. When he spoke again, his voice was a little gruffer. "I’ve been... tryin’ to figure some stuff out, alright?"

"Figure what out?" you pressed gently, taking a step closer to him now. You could feel your heart thudding in your chest, but you didn’t back down. "Logan, just talk to me."

He sighed, his eyes meeting yours again, and for a second, you saw something vulnerable flash through his expression—something raw. He was quiet for a beat before he finally spoke.

"After that mission," he said slowly, his voice low, "when I saw you get hurt... somethin’ in me snapped. I couldn’t... I couldn’t handle it, Y/N. The thought of losin’ you like that—" He broke off, his jaw tightening, and you could see the tension in his shoulders. "I’ve been through a lotta shit in my life. Seen people come and go. But you? The idea of you bein’ gone—it messed me up more than I thought it would."

You stood there, staring at him, trying to absorb what he was saying. He wasn’t just talking about the mission anymore. This was more than that.

"Logan..." you whispered, feeling a knot form in your throat. "I didn’t know you—"

"I didn’t know it either," he interrupted, his voice rough but sincere. "I didn’t know I felt like this ‘til it hit me. I care about you, Princess. More than I care to admit, sometimes. And I ain’t exactly good at this... feelings thing, y’know that."

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say, and for a moment, you were convinced you’d misheard him. Logan cared about you? Like that? It felt surreal.

"You... you care about me?" you asked cautiously, your voice small.

Logan huffed, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but there was a softness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. "Hell yeah, I do. I’ve been tryin’ to push it down for a while now, but it ain’t workin’. Not anymore."

You stared at him in disbelief, your pulse racing. "But... I’m just—"

"Don’t even start with that ‘I’m just me’ bullshit," Logan cut you off again, his tone more serious. "You ain’t ‘just’ anything, Y/N. You’re smart, tough as nails, and you’ve got a good heart. You matter to me. And not in some ‘kid sister’ kinda way either, if that’s what you’re thinkin’."

Your cheeks flushed, and your heart skipped a beat. He was being so direct, so honest, and it left you completely speechless.

Logan shifted a little closer, his gaze softening even more as he looked down at you. "I don’t know when it happened, but it did. You got under my skin, sweetheart. And as much as I tried to ignore it... I can’t."

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. This was really happening. Logan—gruff, stoic Logan—was telling you that he had feelings for you. And for the first time, you didn’t feel like a kid around him. You felt like someone who mattered, someone he saw.

"I..." you started, your voice shaking a little. "I didn’t think you’d ever... I mean, I’ve had feelings for you for a while now, but I just figured—"

Logan chuckled softly, his hand reaching out to brush your cheek gently. The touch was gentle, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "You figured wrong, Princess."

You blinked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he was looking at you—it wasn’t just teasing or friendly banter. It was something deeper, something real. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you stammered, your voice barely a whisper. “I thought I was just… I don’t know, bothering you or something.”

Logan’s hand lingered near your face, his thumb brushing your cheek softly. His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the sincerity in them, the raw emotion he wasn’t hiding anymore. “You ain’t a bother, sweetheart. Far from it. And if I’ve been actin’ like I don’t care, that’s on me. But I do care. A lot.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His touch, his words—it was all too much, too overwhelming. You’d been crushing on Logan for what felt like forever, and now he was standing here, telling you he felt the same way. It didn’t feel real.

“Logan, I…” You started, but your words trailed off as his hand slid down to your neck, his rough palm warm against your skin. The way he was looking at you, the intensity in his gaze, made it impossible to think straight.

“Stop thinkin’ so hard,” Logan murmured, his voice low and rough. “Just… be here. With me.”

Your heart pounded as you met his eyes, your stomach doing flips. You didn’t even realize you’d been holding your breath until you let it out in a shaky exhale. “Okay.”

For a moment, everything felt like it slowed down—the air between you humming with tension. Logan leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, and you could feel his breath warm against your lips. It felt like time had stopped, like nothing else in the world mattered but this moment.

Then, before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the small distance between you and pressed your lips to his.

Logan responded instantly, his hand moving to cup the back of your head as he kissed you with a kind of intensity that made your knees weak. It wasn’t slow or hesitant—it was rough, urgent, like he’d been holding back for too long and couldn’t anymore.

You kissed him back, your hands finding their way to his chest, gripping his shirt as you melted into him. His lips were warm and slightly chapped, and the way he kissed you sent a shock of electricity through your entire body. It was everything you’d imagined and more.

Logan’s free arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him until there was no space left between your bodies. You could feel the strength in him, the raw power that he usually kept under tight control, but there was also a tenderness in the way he touched you, like he was afraid of hurting you.

The kiss deepened, and for a moment, you lost yourself in him—in the way he tasted, the way he smelled like leather and pine, the way his hands moved over your body like he couldn’t get enough of you.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. Logan’s hands were still on you, one tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist like he didn’t want to let go.

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “You really are somethin’, Princess.”

You laughed softly, feeling a little dizzy from the kiss, from everything. “You’re not so bad yourself, Wolverine.”

Logan smirked, brushing his thumb over your cheek again. “Could’ve told me sooner, y’know. Saved me a lotta trouble.”

You rolled your eyes, still grinning. “Yeah, well, you could’ve said something too. You had me thinking I was crazy this whole time.”

He huffed a laugh, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Guess we’re both idiots then.”

You bit your lip, still trying to process everything. You’d kissed Logan. Actually kissed him. And he’d kissed you back. It felt like a dream, like any second now you were going to wake up and realize none of this had happened.

But it had. He was still here, his arms around you, his eyes on you, his lips still tingling from the kiss. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel nervous or uncertain around him. You felt… right.

[phanamu]

Some lighthearted headcanons I have based on an old post of mine I'd like to update:

Despite his tendency to slam into walls, Danny has Fenton-levels high spatial intelligence. He has a strong intuitive grasp on how things physically relate to each other, and how much x force will affect y mass. This grew out of his love of space, got even better once he started ghost fighting, flying, and working with ectoplasm, and is a major reason for his stellar bowling average. He doesn't quite grasp how impressive it is both because he's too used to thinking of himself as the Solid C Student of his family and because it's So Easy for him surely everyone can do that. Right?

Jazz's major creative outlet is music. She keeps her favorite CDs in her car and uses drive time to vent through songs. She knows how to play the bass guitar and has considered pursuing music therapy. At this point, though, she just plays to quiet her own mind and keep her hands busy.

Tucker's main contribution to the Trio isn't actually his tech genius. It's the fact that he makes sure they all take the time to take care of themselves and relax. Danny and Sam are both high-strung people who feel the need to fix or fight all the time, so Tucker decided to be the guy who suggests and plans outings just for fun. He's one of the first people to verbalize he could use a break, which reminds the other two to check-in and gives them an excuse to slow down. It's subtle, but effective.

Sam knows how to cut, style, and generally take care of hair. She doesn't really advertise it because she's still invested in pretending to be allergic to 'normal girl things' but she likes the confidence and control she gets out of fixing and shaving her hair the way she likes it. This is also how she knew how to style Tucker's temporary Goth hair without causing damage.

[rootedinrevisions]

Texas Orange

SUMMARY: Heavily based on the song "Tennesse Orange" by Megan Moroney. You're in the early stages of your relationship with Glen and he takes you to a Texas football game with him.

**This was my first time writing about Glen himself and not one of his characters. I really loved the idea and the song that inspired this fic, however think I may stick to writing his characters instead of him as a person in the future. **

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

The Texas sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the landscape as you and Glen drive through the winding roads of Austin. The truck hums steadily beneath you, the air conditioning a welcome relief from the sweltering heat outside.

You glance over at Glen, dressed in a black t-shirt with the orange Texas Longhorns symbol emblazoned on the chest, and a white Longhorns baseball cap turned backward on his head. His sunglasses shield his eyes from the bright light, and with one hand on the wheel, he holds your hand gently in the other. You glance over at him, and the corners of his mouth lift into a smile when he catches you looking at him.

"This is amazing," you say, taking in the sprawling hills and the way the cityscape rises in the distance. "I can't believe I've never been here before."

Glen chuckles, his voice low and smooth, the kind of sound that makes you feel instantly at ease. "I still can't believe that. Austin's pretty great. But, I mean, you grew up on the coast, right? Plenty of beauty there too."

You nod, your mind flashing back to memories of ocean breezes and sandy beaches, a world away from the vast, open skies of Texas. "Yeah, but it's different. I've never seen anything quite like this."

He grins, squeezing your hand gently. "You're gonna love it here. Plus, this is only the start. Wait till you see the stadium-it's a whole other world."

You laugh, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves bubble up inside you. "Speaking of the stadium, I've got to admit something. I've never actually been to a football game before. My family wasn't really into sports growing up."

Glen's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he quickly recovers with a teasing grin. "You've never been to a game? Well, that changes today. Texas football is like a religion around here. It's something you just have to experience.

"Hopefully I'll fit in okay," you say, half-joking. The thought of stepping into the massive stadium, surrounded by thousands of passionate fans, is both thrilling and a little daunting.

He chuckles, his voice warm with affection. "Don't worry, I'll be right there with you. We'll ease you into it. Plus, my folks are going to be so excited to meet you they're gonna forget about the game, at least for a minute."

The mention of his family makes your stomach flip. This is a big step, meeting his family, even if you've both been keeping things casual. There's a part of you that wonders if this trip is more than just a casual one for Glen.

"What are they like? Your family, I mean," you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

Glen's expression softens, a fond smile playing on his lips. "They're great. They'll love you, I promise. My mom might be a little overwhelming at first, but that's just because she cares so much. And my dad, well he's the quiet type, but once you get him talking about anything Texas-related, you won't be able to get him to stop."

You smile at the thought, feeling a bit more at ease. "They sound like a good bunch."

"They are," Glen says, his voice sincere. "And they're going to love you. How could they not?"

His words bring warmth to your chest, and you squeeze his hand in return. "I hope so."

As the two of you continue to drive further into Austin, Glen gives you a mini tour. He points out a few landmarks - his favorite taco place, the park where he used to hang out with friends, and a music venue where he once saw an incredible show. You listen, soaking in every detail, feeling a sense of connection to this place that Glen clearly loves so much.

"Here we are," Glen says as he pulls into a parking spot near the stadium. The massive structure looms ahead, a sea of burnt orange and white, alive with energy even from a distance.

You take a deep breath, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling inside you. "This is it, huh?"

"This is it," Glen confirms, turning to you with a smile that melts away any lingering doubts. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," you say, smiling back at him.

As you step out of Glen's truck, you notice that nearly everyone around you is decked out in burnt orange and white. Texas Longhorns hats, jerseys, and t-shirts, all show their pride. The sea of matching colors makes you acutely aware that you're the only one not wearing any team gear.

Glen steps around the truck to join you, noticing the way your eyes scan the crowd. He gives you a playful nudge with his elbow. "Feeling a little out of place?"

You laugh, shrugging slightly. "Just a bit. I think I missed the memo on the dress code."

Without missing a beat, Glen reaches up to the back of his head and pulls off the white Longhorns cap he's been wearing. He turns it around in his hands before stepping closer to you. "Here, you can wear this. Can't have you being the odd one out."

Before you can respond, he's already placing the cap on your head. His fingers brush against your hair as he adjusts the fit, making sure it sits just right. You tilt your head up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "How do I look?"

Glen takes a step back to admire his work, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You look great in Orange. Might even say you wear it better than I do."

You roll your eyes playfully, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "You might be biased."

"Maybe," he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling with affection. "But I'm also right."

As you walk towards the section of the parking lot reserved for tailgating, Glen drapes an arm over your shoulders, keeping you close. "Tell you what, we'll hit up the merch stand once we're inside. Gotta get you a t-shirt to complete the look."

"You don't have to do that," you start to protest, but Glen shakes his head.

"I want to," he insists, squeezing your shoulder lightly. "Consider it part of the full Texas football experience."

You smile up at him, feeling more at ease with every step. "Alright, but only if you help me pick it out."

"Deal," Glen says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple before leading you into the sea of orange and white.

The aroma of sizzling barbecue fills the air as you and Glen approach the tailgating area. Rows of trucks and RVs are lined up in the parking lot, each decked out in burnt orange. Flags bearing the Texas Longhorns logo flutter in the breeze, and the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking bottles create a festive atmosphere.

Glen leads you through the crowd with a confident stride, his hand securely holding yours. As you near a large, lively group gathered around a grill, Glen spots his family and friends.

"There they are," he says, nodding towards the group. "Ready to meet everyone?"

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Glen gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as you approach the group. His mom, Cyndy, is the first to spot the two of you, and her face lights up with a welcoming smile. She's a petite woman with a warm demeanor, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she waves you over.

"There you are!" Cyndy calls out, pulling Glen into a quick hug before turning her attention to you. "And you must be the one we've been hearing so much about. I'm Cyndy, it's so nice to finally meet you!"

You return her smile, instantly feeling at ease with her friendly nature. "It's great to meet you too. Glen's told me a lot about you."

"Oh, I'm sure he has," Cyndy says with a wink before pulling you into a hug. "Welcome, sweetheart."

Next, Glen's dad, Glen Sr., steps forward with a firm handshake and a nod. He's tall and broad-shouldered, with a quiet strength about him. "Good to have you here," he says simply, but the warmth in his tone is unmistakable.

Then, Glen's sisters Lauren and Leslie, each take their turn to greet you. Lauren gives you a friendly smile. "You're braver than I would be, meeting the whole crew at once like this. They can be a handful, but you'll be fine."

Leslie nudges Glen playfully. "You didn't warn her about us, did you?"

Glen laughs, shaking his head. "I figured I'd let you all speak for yourselves."

As you exchange pleasantries, more of Glen's friends and extended family members join in, introducing themselves and welcoming you with open arms. Someone hands you a cold drink, and before you know it, you're standing around a grill piled high with burgers, sausages, and all the fixings, soaking in the pre-game atmosphere.

The conversation quickly turns to stories about Glen's past. A few of his college buddies, each with a beer in hand, are eager to share some of their favorite memories.

"Remember that time Glen tried to impress a girl by riding a mechanical bull at that honky-tonk?" One of them starts, a grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, I remember!" Another chimes in. "He was so confident, strutted right up there like he was gonna show everyone how it's done. Lasted about five seconds before he got thrown off and landed flat on his back."

The group erupts in laughter, and even Glen can't help but chuckle at the memory. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he says shaking his head. "At least I gave it a shot."

Cyndy leans in closer to you, a glint in her eye. "That's nothing compared to the time he and his sister decided to 'borrow' my car when they were kids. Thought they'd take a little joyride around the neighborhood...until they crashed it into a mailbox."

"Oh no!" You gasp, unable to suppress a laugh.

Lauren grins, shaking her head at the memory. "We were grounded for months. Glen thought he was so slick, but he didn't realize the mailbox he hit belonged to one of Dad's friends."

"Yep," Glen Sr adds with a rare smile, "and that's how they learned not to mess with my car."

The easy banter and lighthearted stories quickly dissolve any lingering nerves you have. Glen's family and friends are down-to-earth, welcoming you into their inner circle as if you've always been a part of it. The more they share, the more you see the depth of their bond and the way they care for each other.

As you take another bite of your burger, you look over at Glen, who's been watching you with a soft smile. "You doing okay?" he asks quietly, leaning in so only you can hear.

You nod, feeling completely at ease now. "Yeah, I'm doing great. Your family's wonderful."

His smile widens as he places a hand gently on your back. "I'm glad you think so. They're a little crazy, but they're mine."

"And now I guess I'm part of them too," you say with a playful grin.

Glen's eyes light up at your words, and he leans in to press a quick, affectionate kiss to your lips. "Yeah, I guess you are."

Just then, one of Glen's friends raises his drink and shouts "Hook 'em, Horns!" The entire group responds in unison, raising their hands in the iconic "Hook 'em Horns" gesture, with pinkies and index figures extended with the thumb tucked grasping the second and third fingers.

You try to mimic the gesture, but you don't quite cooperate. Glen catches your struggle and chuckles softly. "Here, let me help," he says, gently taking your hand in his.

With his warm fingers guiding yours, Glen carefully adjusts your hand, making sure your pinky and index fingers are extended and your thumb tucks the other fingers. His touch is gentle and precise, and you can't help but feel a little flutter in your chest as he concentrates on getting it just right.

"How's that?" you ask, looking up at him with a smile.

He gives your hand a final tweak before stepping back to admire his work. "Perfect," he says, his voice soft and affectionate. "Now you're officially part of the team."

You laugh, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "Guess I really am one of you now."

The group continues to laugh and share stories as the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the gathering. The pre-game atmosphere, filled with the sounds of sizzling food, clinking bottles, and cheerful banter, is everything you imagined - and more. With Glen's arm draped comfortably around your shoulders and the "Hook 'em Horns" gesture nailed down, you feel a sense of belonging that surprises you in the best possible way.

As the tailgate winds down and the anticipation for the game grows, Glen wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the throng of excited fans heading towards the stadium. The air is filled with the sounds of chanting, music, and the collective buzz of thousands of supporters, all eager for the big game.

"Ready for the full game day experience?" Glen asks, glancing over at you with a grin.

You nod, feeling a mixture of excitement and curiosity. "Definitely. Lead the way."

As you approach the entrance, Glen veers off towards a merchandise stand just inside the gate, keeping his promise to get you your very own Texas Longhorns shirt. The stand is awash with burnt orange and white, offering everything from t-shirts to hoodies, foam fingers, and even Longhorns-themed sunglasses.

"Okay, let's find you something," Glen says, scanning the racks of shirts. He picks out a simple, yet classic burnt orange t-shirt with the Texas Longhorns logo emblazoned across the front. Holding it up to you, he grins "How about this one?"

You take the shirt from him, feeling the soft fabric between your fingers. "It's perfect," you say, already imagining yourself fitting right in with the sea of orange in the stadium.

Glen pays for the shirt and then hands it back to you. "Go ahead and try it on. Let's see how it looks."

You pull the t-shirt over your white tank top, the bright orange contrasting perfectly with your outfit. As you smooth the fabric down, Glen steps back to admire the look.

"Hold on," he says, reaching for the white Texas Longhorns baseball cap he had been wearing earlier. With a playful grin, he gently places it back on your head, adjusting the brim so it sits just right. His fingers linger for a moment, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You look up at him, a smile playing on your lips. "How do I look?"

Glen's gaze softens as he takes you in, a warm smile spreading across his face. "You look great," he says, his voice filled with genuine affection. "I think orange might be your color."

You laugh softly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Guess I'm officially part of the team now."

"Absolutely," Glen replies, leaning in to brush a quick kiss against your forehead. "Now, let's get to our seats."

With his arm comfortably draped around your shoulders, Glen guides you through the bustling concourse and up towards the exclusive box seats he reserved for you, his family, and close friends. As you walk, you can't help but notice a few heads turning, whispers following in your wake. It's clear that Glen's presence isn't going unnoticed.

But Glen seems unfazed by the attention, focused entirely on making sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. "Don't worry," he says, sensing your unease as you pass by a group of fans who seem to be debating whether or not to approach. "The suite will give us a bit of privacy. It's just us and the people we want to be with."

You give him a grateful smile, relieved at the thought of a more private space. "That sounds perfect."

When you reach the suite, a staff member opens the door, revealing a spacious, comfortable area with large windows offering an unobstructed view of the field. The room is decked out with cozy seating, a fully stocked fridge, and even a table spread with game day snacks.

Glen's family is already there, mingling and settling in, and they greet you warmly as you enter. You quickly realize that this box isn't just a place to watch the game - it's a space where you can relax, enjoy the company, and soak in the experience without any interruptions.

Glen guides you to a seat near the window, right next to him. As you take in the view of the field below, and the energy of the crowd that's starting to pile into the stadium, you feel a sense of excitement bubbling up.

"So, what do you think?" Glen asks, settling in beside you, his hand casually resting on your knee.

You turn to him, your smile reflecting the excitement you feel. "It's incredible."

Glen grins, clearly pleased. "I'm glad you're here," he says giving your knee a gentle squeeze. "Now, get ready for some real Texas football."

Suddenly, the lights dim, and the giant screen at the far end of the stadium flickers to life. The Texas Longhorns logo appears, and the crowd erupts into cheers. You glance over at Glen, who is grinning ear to ear, clearly caught up in the excitement.

"Here they come," he says, nodding towards the tunnel at the edge of the field.

The sound of drums fills the air as the Texas Longhorns marching band begins playing. The brass instruments gleam under the stadium lights and the rhythm of the drums pulses through the stands, making your heart beat a little faster.

As the band starts playing the school fight song, the crowd rises to their feet, the familiar tune echoing throughout the stadium. Glen stands up, pulling you to your feet with him. The sight is breathtaking - the sea of burnt orange, the flags waving proudly, and the booming voices of thousands of fans all joining together in the song.

Glen leans in close, his voice just above a whisper in your ear. "You've got to sing along, it's tradition."

You smile nervously, not sure what the words are, but Glen's enthusiasm is contagious. As the band reaches the chorus, Glen starts singing, his voice blending with the roar of the crowd. "Texas Fight! Texas Fight! And it's goodbye to A&M..."

You start to hum along to the words, your soft voice, almost drowned out by the thousands of others. But Glen's infection energy pulls you in. His eyes spark with excitement. "Louder!" he urges, his grin widening.

You laugh, feeling the last of your hesitation melt away as you throw yourself into the chant, clapping along with the beat and shouting the words with enthusiasm. Glen's pride is evident, and he can't hide his delight at seeing you get into the spirit of the game.

As the team bursts onto the field, the stadium erupts into a thunderous roar. The players, clad in their iconic burnt orange and white uniforms, charge out of the tunnel, the sight of them stirring a fresh wave of excitement into the crowd. The band crescendos into the final notes of the fight song, and the noise level reaches a fever pitch.

Glen wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as the team lines up on the field. "What do you think?" he asks, his voice barely audible over the noise.

You look up at him, your heart racing with the excitement of the moment. "It's amazing," you reply, your smile wide and genuine. "I can see why you love this so much."

As the players take their positions on the field, the atmosphere in the stadium becomes electric. The roar of the crowd swells, and you can feel the anticipation vibrating through the stands. You're fully immersed in the excitement, your earlier nerves replaced with growing enthusiasm as Glen points out different players and explains the significance of the game.

Just as you start to relax, the opening kickoff is moments away. You're leaning forward in your seat, eyes glued to the field when suddenly - BOOM!

The deafening sound of Smokey the Cannon firing catches you completely off guard. You jump in your seat, your heart racing as the shock of the blast reverberates through your chest.

Glen, noticing your startled reaction, can't help but chuckle. "Sorry, I should've warned you about that," he says, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. His laugh is warm and affectionate, and he pulls you close, resting his chin on your shoulder. "That's Smokey the Cannon. It fires off at every kickoff. Just part of the tradition."

You lean into his embrace, your initial fright quickly fading as you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. "I think I just aged a few years," you say with a laugh, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline. "I wasn't expecting that at all."

Glen's grip tightens slightly, his way of reassuring you. "It's loud, but you'll get used to it," he says, his voice gentle and comforting in your ear. "Trust me, by the end of the game, you'll be waiting for it."

You turn your head to catch his eye, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your mouth. "I'll take your word for it," you reply, your nerves settling as you take comfort in his closeness.

The game kicks off, and the action on the field immediately draws you back in. As the players clash, the crowd erupts into cheers and groans, their energy contagious. Glen keeps you close, his arm draped over your shoulders, and you find yourself getting more and more caught up in the excitement of it all.

Throughout the game, Glen is right there, guiding you through the experience. He explains the rules as plays unfold, pointing out the strategy behind each move. "See how the quarterback is scanning the field?" he says at one point. "He's looking for an open receiver, someone who can catch the ball and make a run for it."

You nod, trying to absorb the information. "It's a lot more complicated than I thought," you admit, appreciating his patience.

Glen grins, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. "That's what makes it fun," he says. "Once you start to understand the strategy, it's like watching a chess match...only with a lot more action."

As the game progresses, you find yourself cheering along with the crowd, your earlier nerves completely forgotten. Glen's explanations help you feel more connected to the game, and his excitement is infectious. Each time something exciting happens on the field - a touchdown, a particularly good tackle - he turns to you with a grin, eager to share the moment.

"Did you see that?" he asks after a particularly impressive play, his eyes alight with excitement. "That's what they call a 'Hail Mary' - a long pass to try and score a touchdown when time's running out."

You nod, caught up in the moment. "I think I'm starting to get the hang of this," you say, feeling a sense of pride as you follow the flow of the game.

Glen leans in, his voice low and full of affection. "You're doing great," he says, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm glad you're here with me."

You smile up at him, the warmth of his words making your heart flutter. "Me too," you reply, feeling more at home in the stadium with each passing moment.

As the game continues, the two of you settle into a comfortable rhythm - Glen explaining plays, you cheering along with the crowd, and both of you enjoying the shared experience. It's a day filled with excitement, but also with moments of quiet connection, each one deepening the bond between you.

And by the time Smokey the Cannon fires off again, you barely flinch - too caught up in the thrill of the game and the warmth of Glen's presence beside you.

The final whistle blows and the stadium erupts in a sea of burnt orange and white. Texas has won, and the energy in the air is electric. Fans are cheering, hugging, and celebrating as the Longhorns players wave to the crowd before making their way off the field. You can't help but get caught up in the excitement, clapping along as the band strikes up the fight song one last time.

As the crowd begins to thin out, Glen helps you gather your things, and the two of you make your way out of the suite. The halls of the stadium are still buzzing with excitement, fans streaming toward the exits, chatting excitedly about the game. You notice a few people casting glances your way - recognition flickering in their eyes as they realize who Glen is.

You feel a flutter of nervousness in your chest as the looks become more frequent. The idea of being recognized, of suddenly being in the spotlight, is overwhelming. But before the anxiety can take hold, Glen reaches for your hand. His grip is firm, and reassuring, and he gives you a comforting smile.

"Don't worry," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I'm right here."

His words and his touch soothe you, and you take a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of his hand in yours rather than the curious glances around you. Together, you navigate through the crowd, Glen's presence beside you acting as an anchor, keeping you steady.

As you step out into the cool evening air, the noise of the stadium fades behind you, replaced by the more distant sounds of fans celebrating in the parking lot. The crowd is thinning out, and the atmosphere feels less intense, allowing you to finally relax.

Glen leads you to his truck, and as you approach it, he glances over at you, his expression softening. "So...your first Texas game," he says as he opens the passenger door for you. "What did you think? Did it live up to the hype?"

Your smile, climbing into the truck and settling into the seat. "It really did," you reply, your tone reflecting the surprise in your voice. "I didn't think I'd get so caught up in it, but I did. The energy, the crowd, the way everyone was so passionate...it was contagious."

Glen closes the door and walks around to the driver's side, sliding into the seat beside you. He doesn't start the truck right away, instead turning slightly to face you, his gaze soft and warm.

"I'm really glad you came," he says, his voice sincere. "It means a lot to me to share this with you."

You feel your heart swell at his words, and you take a moment to let them sink in. "I'm glad I came too," you say softly, your eyes meeting his. "It's not something I ever imagined myself doing, but I'm really happy I did."

Glen reaches out and takes your hand again, his fingers intertwining with yours. "You were a great sport about everything," he says, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Even when Smokey scared the life out of you."

You laugh, shaking your head at the memory. "I'll admit, that was a bit much," you say with a grin. "But honestly, the whole experience was incredible. I see now why it's such a big deal for you."

Glen's smile widens, and for a moment, the two of you simply sit there, hands clasped, sharing a quiet, meaningful silence. The excitement of the day is still buzzing in your veins, but there's also a deeper feeling - a sense of connection, of understanding, that goes beyond just the game.

"I'm really happy you're here with me," Glen says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of emotion. "This...it all means a lot more with you by my side."

His words hit you in a way you didn't expect, and you realize just how much this day, and this man, have come to mean to you. You squeeze his hand, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the game or the crowd, but everything to do with him.

"I'm happy to be here," you reply, your voice just as soft. "With you."

For a moment, the world outside the truck seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the stillness of the parking lot. It's a moment of quiet reflection, of mutual appreciation, and as you sit there, you realize that this experience has brought you closer to Glen in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Glen starts the engine, but before he shifts into gear, he leans over and presses a tender kiss to your lips. It's soft, sweet, and filled with unspoken emotion, a perfect ending to a day you'll never forget.

As he pulls away, you both smile at each other, the bond between you stronger than ever. As the truck rolls out of the parking lot, leaving the stadium behind, you feel a sense of contentment, knowing that this is just the beginning of something truly special.

The next morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your bedroom. You sit on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, absently twisting the brim of Glen's baseball cap between your fingers. The events of the previous day play on a loop in your mind - Glen's infectious enthusiasm, the electrifying atmosphere of the game, and the way he held your hand, guiding you through it all. A smile tugs at your lips as you remember the look in his eyes when he told you how much it meant to him to have you there.

But now, in the quiet of your room, the excitement of the game has given way to do something deeper - an unmistakable warmth in your chest, a feeling that's both exhilarating and a little terrifying. You realize that what started as casual dating has slowly grown into something more. And for the first time, you feel the need to talk to someone about it.

You take a deep breath and scroll through your contacts, landing on your mom's number. The familiar sound of the ringtone fills the room as you hold the phone to your ear, your heart beating a little faster with each passing second. Finally, you hear her voice on the other end, warm and welcoming as always.

"Hi, sweetie! How are you?" Your mom greets you, the sound of her voice instantly soothing some of your nerves.

"Hey, Mom," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm good. Just...thinking about a lot of things."

Your mom chuckles softly. "Well, it sounds like you've got something on your mind. What's going on?"

You pause for a moment, gathering your thoughts before you begin. "I met somebody, and...he's really great, Mom. he's got these green eyes that I could just get lost in, and he's so sweet. He opens doors for me, he makes me laugh, and he...he doesn't make me cry." Your voice softens as you say the last part, a small admission of how different this feels from anything you've experienced before.

There's a brief silence on the other end, and then your mom speaks, her voice gentle. "He sounds wonderful, honey. Tell me more about him."

A smile spreads across your face as you think about Glen. "He's from Texas, not exactly where we're from, but...when I'm with him, he feels like home. He's got me doing things I never thought I'd do, like going to a football game." You laugh, still a little surprised at how much you enjoyed the experience.

Your mom laughs too, a mix of surprise and amusement in her tone. "A football game? You? Never thought I'd see the day."

"I know, right?" you reply, shaking your head at the memory. "He even gave me his hat to wear because I didn't have any Texas gear. And, Mom...I liked it. I really liked it."

There's a pause, and you can almost hear your mom's smile through the phone. "It sounds like you're really falling for this guy."

You bite your lip, the truth of her words sinking in. "I think I am," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Mama...I like him a lot. I even learned the words to the Texas Fight Song."

Your mom's laughter rings through the phone, full of warmth and understanding. "It sounds like he's got you wrapped around his finger," she teases, but there's no judgment in her voice, only happiness for you.

"Maybe he does," you say, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought. "But...it feels right, Mom. He feels right."

Your mom's voice softens, a hint of emotion creeping in. "I'm happy for you, sweetheart. Just take things one step at a time, and follow your heart."

You nod, even though she can't see you. "Thanks, Mom. I will."

As you end the call, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. Talking to your mom has helped you put things into perspective, and you realize that you're ready to see where things go with Glen, no matter where that may lead. The thought of him brings a smile to your face, and you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement at what the future might hold.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty three

authors note: the day of the big party has arrived. reminder, this has a time jump. solana is now home from treatment, though that's touched on in here as well.

also, if you watched arrow, i totally use one of my favorite characters from that show for a certain character. don't own him or anything wwe related. lol

cw/tw: fluff, angst, and violence

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 12k

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Solana stops humming as she rips her gaze from the several pots that she currently has sitting on the fire. “It’s not too late.”

Rolling her eyes, she rubs her hands off on her apron and walks over to her husband. Roman pulls her into him as she lifts her hands around his neck. “Ro…..”

“We could just not open the door.”

“Roman.”

This would be Solana’s welcome home party. Two weeks. She’s been home for two weeks, and it’s been a beautiful transition. Being back with her husband and Dulce has meant the world to her. It’s why she wanted to take some time to enjoy the two most important figures in her life before hosting such a social function.

But now the big day has arrived, and while she’s filled with excitement, her husband…..is not.

“What if I buy you something instead? Like an island? Just for us.” Solana is taken back for a moment. She’s still yet to fully grasp the perennial extent of the Bloodline’s reach and wealth. Of her husband’s billionaire status. “Have security set to shoot to kill if anyone tries to bother us.”

She smiles, because while his words are borderline disturbing, the seriousness in his voice and expression are slightly humorous. “Ro, that’s not nice.” 

Roman also rolls his eyes, Solana having a bit of a hard time taking him seriously. He’s so petulant, like a child. “Baby, how many times we gotta have this conversation? I love you and hate everyone else.”

“Dulce?”

“Tolerable.”

Shaking her head, she shifts her hands to his chest. “This is what I want, Roman. I’ve been gone for so long. I just….I just want to be surrounded by the people I love.” And before he can say anything else, she clarifies, “beyond just you and Dulce.”

“She don’t like this shit either. She likes us. That’s it.”

“That’s not what I heard. Apparently, Jimmy really is her new bestie.” Solana giggles, thinking back to the photos Naomi sent and shared with her of Jimmy sitting on the sofa with Dulce, Dulce even sleeping in the bed with him as he took a nap. Almost identical to the ones she received while they were in Mexico. It seems Roman’s cousin has taken a liking to her sweet little puppy.

Roman looks even more irritated as he shares, “you know he had her sleeping in the bed with him again?” Solana does in fact know. She’s got photographic evidence to prove it. “I swear, I saw her little ass standing up on her legs on the side of our bed like she wanted to get in the other day. She can try that shit with us if she wants to, but—”

Solana leans up and kisses him, effectively silencing his rant. Roman’s hands are on the small of her back, deepening the kiss as his tongue glides across her bottom lip, Solana having to prematurely end the kiss when he starts guiding her towards the nearest clear counter that he doesn’t hesitate to prop her up on.

She knows exactly where this is headed, and she has way too many things left to do before the party kicks off.

Ignoring his scowl at her drawing a line in the sand, she does her best to encourage him, “today is going to be a good day. We’re going to have a good time—”

“debatable.” 

“—and if you can try to be nice and not curse at or hurt anybody—”

“—do you not know who I am?”

“Then after the party and everyone’s gone—” her eyes drop to his chest, a bit of sheepishness overcoming her. “—when it’s just you and me….” Solana pushes past her shyness at even thinking of it, sharing in a quiet voice, “then I’ll do the thing.”

Roman looks skeptical, clearly not following, “the thing?”

Solana swallows. She hates how uncomfortable and embarrassed she feels about discussing this. “You know….the…..thing you want me to do where I…..sit.” 

And it’s that elaboration that brings a smug smile on his handsome face. “You finally gonna sit on my face, baby?”

Solana’s cheeks are flamed and reddened. “Not so loud.” She looks around, as if someone could be eavesdropping on quite literally the most sexual thing she’ll have ever done. “But…..y–yes.” She lifts a finger, reminding him of the stipulation. “But, only if you can b–behave.” 

Roman smirks, dropping his gaze to her chest that looks amazing in her little dress. “For you, I can be very good.” She smiles up at him, “but something before could also be a nice incentive.”

Solana slaps Roman on the chest and tugs herself away, hopping off the counter as he squeezes her ass. “Ro, I have to finish cooking, and Melina should be here any minute.”

He scowls, eyes briefly falling to her ass as she moves back over to the stove. “Who is that again?”

“One of my friends from treatment,” she answers over a sigh, grabbing the almost emptied bottle of Adobo. “I told you that this morning.” 

“Yeah, while you were getting dressed. I wasn’t paying attention to anything except them titties.”

She turns to him, cheeks red, and not from her makeup. “Roman, you can’t…nevermind....can you do me a favor?”

“Can we cancel the party?” She gives him a look, forcing him to resign. “Fine. What do you need?”

She motions to the aluminum trays of food lined up all on the kitchen island. A small part of him feels bad for not helping her cook. He’s far from the best, not even remotely close to her in terms of talent, but Solana woke up at the ass crack of dawn this morning to finish cooking. Because she started yesterday evening, and it’s only occurring to him now that he hasn’t done a ton to help her.

She asked the security around them to set up the backyard, chairs and tables and shit. Now that he thinks about it, she hasn’t asked him for much, really. 

Sighing and realizing his role, or lack thereof, in this thing brings on small amount of guilt.

Roman moves behind her, speaking before she can scold him yet again for trying to distract her. “I’m sorry.” He feels the way she relaxes in his embrace, sees how she angles her head to look at him with all the confusion. “I know this is…important to you, and I don’t mean to be difficult.”

Because it is, and because he doesn’t. He’s immensely proud of her, of how well she’s adjusted to being back home full time after being gone for so long. The least he can do is try to be a bit more supportive, even if just the thought of this damn party and being forced to interact with people makes him physically ill. 

“You? Difficult? Never.” He rolls his eyes at her sarcastic tone as she turns her body inward to his. “It’s okay. I know you’re not very…..social, but it’s just one party. And when everyone’s gone….it’s just you and me.”

Roman loves the sound of that. His dick stiffening at just the thought of her climbing on top and sitting on his fa—

“But until then, party first.” She bursts his bubbles, separating and motioning to the trays. “Now, food, please.”

Roman rolls his eyes but follows suit, reaching for the first set of food that smells delicious and has him tempted to just eat before everyone else arrives. He’s near the back door when she calls behind him. 

“Muchas gracias, papi.”

It’s by the grace of God that he doesn’t drop the tray onto the floor. Truly. Because while Roman is far from fluent in Spanish, he’s picked up a few things. Learned some more since being married to Solana. 

He knows muchas gracias is ‘thank you very much’.

And he knows that papi…..is ‘daddy’.

Solana just called him daddy. 

Fuck.

A quick glance back in her direction reveals a small, coy smile. Intentional. She knows exactly what she just did.

He has to take a minute to compose himself.

This woman will easily be the end of him. 

“Ain’t nobody sleeping tonight,” he says it loud enough so she can hear, the last thing filling his ears is her soft laughter. 

————

“Mrs. Reigns.”

Solana has just finished pouring the pasta into the aluminum pan when she hears her name called by one of the security guards. Turning around, a huge smile falls onto her face as the guard steps aside.

“Melina!”

Solana’s smile is stapled as she carefully places the sizzling pot into the sink and runs a bit of water to prevent staining before shutting it off and heading in Melina’s direction.

A hug is initiated and a lack of tensing is prevalent in both women. The two of them just enjoying the embrace. Solana is the first to pull back, sharing, “I’m so happy you could make it.”

It’s been two weeks since they’ve last seen each other in person, since they completed residential treatment, but they’ve texted consistently since them. A couple FaceTime calls as well. With Cam and Mickie, too. 

“Thanks for inviting me.” Melina’s smile isn’t as big, but it’s just as genuine. That’s just Melina. She looks around the house, eyes widening a bit. “Your house is beautiful.”

Solana starts to correct her. Starts to point out that it was Roman’s first. She just happened to move in when they got married, but she stops herself, because that’s not the truth. This is her home. Hers and Roman’s. It’s just as much hers now as it is his. So, she settles on a much better response, “thank you.” She motions to the kitchen. “You still willing to help me cook?”

Another thing they bonded over includes cooking. Something Melina loves just as much as Solana. 

Melina smirks. “Of course.” She digs into her purse, pulling out the brand new bottle of Adobo seasoning. “Even brought an extra one, just in case.”

Solana gives a big sigh of relief. “I’m running low, too.” She was almost tempted to ask Roman to make a grocery run for her in the event the little she has left wasn’t enough to season the remaining food. “Now, I made most of the main dishes last night. It’s just some appetizers and desserts.”

“You want me to do the conchas and sopaipillas?”

“If you don’t mind?” It would help Solana out a ton. Especially since they’re the favorites of her husband and his ravenous cousins. 

Melina shakes her head. “Of course not, just show me the apron.” 

————

Mickie and Cam show up shortly after, but as both are not cooks and don’t hesitate to express as such, they’re relegated to finishing up some of the little things that need to be done in the backyard.

The Wise Man arrives as well, him and Roman disappearing in his office to discuss some work matters. At least, that would be Solana’s guess for their departure.

A little while later, the doorbell rings and Solana rushes over, excited that the bulk of the guests are preparing to arrive. 

Roman happens to meet her at the same time she’s near the front door, only for her to pause when she overhears a voice.

Jey’s voice.

“.....and when we get up in this house, ya’ll better act right. Don’t break nothing. Don’t burn nothing. And that goes for each other, too. Ya’ll know how your uncle Roman is. He not gon’ hesitate to put us all out, and I’m not trying to have that happen, cause ya mama is refusing to fix dinner tonight, so we gon’ need to ea—Josiah! Did you just flip off your brother?”

“He’s being a dick!”

“Aye, don’t be using that kind of language. I’m not gon keep telling you that!” A pause. “Journee! What happened to the bow in your hair?”

“I don’t want a stinkin' bow!”

“Lil girl, I’m tired of you leaving the house looking homeless. Got people thinking I’m neglecting you and shit!”

“If we’re not supposed to say bad words, how come you can say bad words?”

Solana grabs Roman’s hand and pulls him so they can take a step back. “Are—are those his kids?”

“More like demons, but yes.” Solana gives him that disapproving look. “Hey, you wanted to invite them. I tried to tell you.”

Solana shakes her head. “They’re—they’re probably just having a bad day.”

“Every day is a bad day for them then.” 

Solana slaps him on the arm and clears her throat. She takes one last look at Roman who’s giving her that ‘I tried to warn you’ look, which she discards to open the beautifully designed front door, a big smile on her face when she locks gazed with a grinning Jey.

“What’s up, Soso!” Before Solana can even process what’s happening, Jey is in front of her, hugging her, picking her up. 

She’s almost moved on an emotional level at how this doesn’t trigger her, doesn’t cause her to tense up. Just feels like a warm embrace from a good friend. 

From family.

Jey sets her down on the ground and compliments, “you look good, girl!” She smiles, biting down on her bottom lip. Compliments are still a bit of a struggle for her. Especially ones not from her husband. “We missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Because she did. She missed them all. Solana sets her focus on the set of children, of various ages and sexes. Two girls and two boys who all look like their father in various ways, sans their complexions, which are a few shades deeper. “You must be—”

“Boobies!” Solana’s jaw drops at the exclamation of the boy who’s the tallest and probably oldest. His eyes are as wide, dazed, and mesmerized as he points to her chest. “They’re so big. Are they real?”

“Josiah Fatu!”

He ignores Jey’s harsh use of what Solana would guess is his name. “Can I feel them….” Solana goes to straighten up as the little boy starts to reach for her chest. 

Roman is quick to yank Solana so her back is against his front, his arm wrapped protectively around her as she uses her own forearm to cover the cleavage showing with her dress. “You better get your son before I kill his ass, Jey!”

“I’m so sorry, Soso.” Jey apologizes and turns his attention to Josiah. “Boy, have you lost your damn mind?”

Josiah scowls. “You’re the one who said Aunt Solana has nice tits!”

“I was talking to your uncle Jeremiah, not you!” Jey clears his throat, nervous eyes briefly darting to Roman who Solana absolutely makes sure to hold onto. She can feel his anger growing by the second. “Uhh, let me—let me talk to him for a minute.” Jey then directs the kids, “ya’ll go on in the house, and remember what I said!”

Not even seconds later, the remaining three children dart into the home, Solana yelping and pressing herself into Roman to avoid being run into.

“Don’t be running in my damn house!” Roman calls after them, looking down at Solana as Jey drags Josiah away from the door and to the side. “You see what I’m saying now?”

Solana opens her mouth and then closes it, finally settling on, “they’re just excited an—”

She’s cut short by the sound of glass shattering. Her mouth shuts again as Roman closes his eyes. “Ro, just breathe—”

“What the hell did ya’ll just break?” Roman yells out, and she moves her hands soothingly up and down his chest. “Excited, my ass, Solana. I’m telling you. I’m going to kill one of these kids before the day is over.”

“Roman, you are not going to kill one of the kids,” Solana assures, bringing her hands to his face, forcing his gaze back on her. “It’s—it’s going to be fine. Remember, I—”

The sound of loud laughter and the quick patter of feet, both human and not human, redirect the couples attention as Dulce comes running up to her parents, seeking asylum from the little girls hot on her trail. Quickly, Solana leans down to pick up Dulce who instantly starts whining. 

“Ya’ll leave the damn dog alone,” Roman warns, Solana using her elbow to lightly bump him for his tone. 

“She’s just a puppy, so she gets scared a lot. That—that’s all.” Solana explains in a kind voice, recognizing they probably just want to pet her. “Maybe if—” 

She’s silenced by two of the kids rushing past her and Roman, prompting him to remind them yet again, “I said stop running in my goddamn house!” Roman takes a step back from his wife, shaking his head. Fuck this. “Solana, I can’t do th—”

“Whassup, my dawgs!”

“Sami?” Roman is visibly confused and now even more annoyed at the presence of a genial looking Sami in their doorway “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I told Jimmy to invite him,” Solana explains, walking over while still holding Dulce who immediately stops whimpering when she sees Sami. “Hi, Sami. Thanks for coming!”

“Yeah, of course. I would never deny the Tribal Chief’s wife anything.” He says with a nervous thumbs up to Roman who still looks murderous. Sami nervously clears his throat, leaning down to look at Dulce. “And who is this?”

“This is Dulce,” Solana introduces and offers. “Would you like to hold her?”

“Of course!” Sami is careful with how he takes the puppy, who Solana notices immediately starts wagging her little tail. “Well, aren’t you just the cutest little thing? Well, yes you are.”

“Soso!” Solana looks past Sami to see Naomi and Jimmy, the latter of which bumps his wife out of the way to rush towards her for a hug. Similar to Jey, he picks her up and lightly spins her. “You finally out of lockdown!”

“Jimmy!”

Naomi looks horrified, shoving her husband before pulling Solana in for a hug. Roman just looks pissed. Meanwhile, Jimmy shrugs, sniffing the air. He claps his hands and rubs them together, “man, that food sure does smell good. I’m about to go fix my plate before—”

“No,” Solana interrupts, clarifying. “Kids eat first.”

“Kids?” Jimmy scowls as Sami walks in the house to the back, most likely to head out in the backyard, having handed Dulce to Roman. “Man, Jey’s bad ass kids can wait.”

“Solo is bringing his sons too.”

“He what?” Roman and Jimmy are synched, Solana and Naomi sharing an amused smile. Roman cuts in, asking, “Solana, you’ve never even met his kids.”

“I’ve never met his wife either, but I invited her too.” Solana explains, ready to try to help her husband understand it felt rude to her to invite Solo who, despite rockiness at some points, she has appreciated over the past months serving as her protector when Roman can’t, but not his family.

“Ahhh! Solana!” Bianca’s excited voice sounds, drawing the group's attention to not only her but Jade and their respective partners, Montez and Trick. Solana accepts the hugs and compliments from both ladies.

Montez lowers his sunglasses taking in the mansion, red solo cup in the other hand. “Damn. This how the Tribal Chief living? This shit nice as hell.”

“Gated and everything,” Trick chimes. Both men straighten up and clear their throats at Roman’s irritated, piercing gaze. Trick coughing up a quiet, “sir.”

Roman says nothing, the men following Jade and Bianca as Naomi directs them to the backyard. 

“Oh my gosh!” Melina’s shocked voice sounds as she comes from the kitchen, pointing with a horrified expression. “What the hell is wrong with these children?”

At that, Roman demands Jimmy. “Get them.”

Jimmy shakes his head, running over, disappearing from the line of vision. “Hey! Ya’ll stop trying to kill the Wise Man!” Jimmy’s shout can be heard even if he can’t be seen. “Take that tie from around his neck right—are you recording? Girl, put that damn phone down right now!”

Melina walks over, clearly disturbed, Solana offering both her—and Roman—apologetic smiles.

“I hope they have some weed at this party. I haven’t gotten high in over 12 hours.”

“Mother, you will not get high at this party, do you understand me?”

“You know that old hag doesn’t listen.”

“Suck my dick, Escobar!”

“Abuelita, please!”

The remaining three adults, as well as Dulce, redirect their attention to the next set of arrivals. Bayley and her mother Juanita who are accompanied by a man Solana would guess is Bayley’s father as well as an older woman.

“Solana!” Bayley walks up to Solana, giving her a big, warm hug. One that Solana reciprocates with all the warmth in the world. “Melina?”

“Bayley?”

Confused, watching Bayley move to hug Melina, Solana asks, “you guys know each other?”

Bayley is the one to answer with a soft smile. “She’s been with my cousin Santos for years.” Bayley takes Melina’s hand in hers. “Practically family.”

Wow. That’s a connection Solana most definitely didn’t see coming.

Bayley's dad clears his throat, addressing Roman, “Thank you, sir, for allowing us in your beautiful home.”

“I didn—”

“You must be Bayley’s dad?” Solana cuts off her husband, already knowing he’s about to say something rude. Or worse. She offers her hand. “I’m Solana.”

The older man shifts his focus, accepting the handshake, offering his name as his eyes settle into something almost soft.

And sad.

Juanita steals a hug from Solana, holding onto her a bit as she asks her husband. “Bernardo, who does she look like? I know you’ll know!”

He smiles, but there’s nothing happy about it. “Alma.” Now Solana is the one frowning. “She looks like Alma.”

Instantly, Solana can feel Juanita’s energy shift, matching that of her husbands.

“Who the hell is that?” Roman’s annoyed voice cuts in as he switches Dulce from one arm to the other. 

Bernardo gives a solemn nod, explaining, “My late brother’s daughter. She…..passed away many years ago.”

Oh.

“So, you’re saying my wife looks like a dead woman?”

“Roman!” Solana harshly whispers, though she’s also a bit unsure how to respond to that. “Umm—”

“Got any weed around here?” The older woman who Juanita shares the same eyes and lips with asks in a rough voice, adding on, “though the food smells pretty good too.”

“Mother, please.” Juanita shakes her head, apologizing. “I’m so sorry we had to bring her. She’d been staying at this nice nursing home we found for her, but she got kicked out….again.”

“This is the fourth damn one in six months,” Bernardo mutters. 

“Didn’t even hit that bitch that hard,” Abuelita defends when her gaze suddenly falls to Roman. “Oh.” She walks over to him, her hand on his bicep, Solana seeing the instant look of disapproval and disgust that appears on his handsome face. “Now, you are a man, aren’t you?” Switching her attention to Solana, she so casually asks, “it’s big, isn’t it? Heavy too. I can tell by the way he stands.”

“Abuelita!” Bayley’s face is reddening by the second as she carefully grabs her grandma by the arm. “I’m just gonna take her out back.” She sends Roman an apologetic look and ushers Abuelita away as the older woman asks something about cocaine. Bernardo and Juanita follow suit with Melina excusing herself to check on Conchas.

Left alone with just her husband, Solana relieves him of Dulce, her sweet little baby nestling her head against Solana’s chest. 

“Roman, please, you said you’d behave.”

“Well, that was before I found out you invited half the damn city,” is his counter as he asks, “Solana, just how many people did you invite?”

“Enough,” is her vague answer. She sighs at his unchanging expression of wanting to know. “Okay, I didn’t tell you how many because I knew you’d be annoyed.” 

“I’m not—”

“And I made sure that Jimmy and Jey vetted everyone, so there wouldn’t be any safety concerns,” she offers, hoping that it ebbs away some of his frustration.

Roman has a lot of questions, but the most important one is the one he asks next. “Do they all know—”

“No,” she answers in a quiet voice. “Outside of like the obvious, they all just think it’s a get-together.”

Roman nods. That chips away some of his irritation. Solana’s mental health is not the business of all these damn people. 

“Good.” Is all he says, reaching for Dulce. “It’s best she stay in our room. Away from—”

“Hey, Uce!” Jey suddenly sounds, standing by the still open front door. “You got a ladder or something? Journee ass on the damn roof!”

————

All things considered, it’s a fun time. Solana enjoys serving people and is granted a major confidence boost from all of the compliments she receives over her cooking. It truly warms her heart, almost as much as the seamless meeting and introduction of Bayley and Naomi to the rest of her new friend group: Cam, Mickie, and Melina.

The ladies all seem to get along well, so much so that the conversation and idea regarding a girls trip to Mexico isn’t even something that Solana has to bring up. Some of the other ladies do it for her.

And it’s beyond exciting to her. 

The whole party is an ordeal. Mostly fun with some hiccups. Roman having to eventually delegate all of Jey’s……excited kids to staying in the backyard where they can be monitored. It’s an interesting juxtaposition. Jey’s kids with Solo’s children who are almost scarily obedient. Yes sir and no sir. Staying seated, almost afraid to interact with anyone other than their parents. Solo’s wife, Madi, is also not as friendly as Solana was hoping for, mostly staying with her quiet children. Her nose is turned up almost the entire time too, her arm looped with her husband’s.

Abuelita is placed in the house in the living room where she’s left to watch The Price is Right reruns after being upset at the lack of available substances outside of alcohol.

“What the fuck kind of Mafia boss doesn’t have any drugs in his house?”

It’s an especially fun time with the music, a combination of Rap, R&B, with, of course, Spanish music. The last of those creating many fun memories of Solana, Bayley, Melina and even Juanita sharing some classic Spanish dances with the other attendees.

Though there does reach a point where Roman not so subtly pulls Solana away from dancing, whispering something in her ear that’s far too NSFW with all the children present regarding her tempting him.

She stays by his side for a little bit after that, noticing how he really only interacts with herself, the twins, and the Wise Man. 

That’s it. 

Solana is starting to wonder if he really does hate people as much as he says he does.

A random little thing she does find kind of…..cute almost is the interaction between Nia and Bautista. There….there could be something there.

It’s not nearly as hilarious though as the interaction between the twins, Montez, and Trick. Trick and Jey somehow creating a new combination of  ‘Yeet’ and ‘Whoop that Trick.’

Roman, as expected, is the only one not amused.

He actually looks like he’s in some form of physical pain. 

The real challenge, however, is finding an activity that’s both appropriate and enjoyable for adults and children, especially with such a mixed group of people. Naturally, Uno is the first thing brought up, but logistically, that doesn’t work out for lack of enough cards for everyone. It’s also something that, according to Naomi and Bayley, would end up in probable murder given the competitiveness of the men. Bloodline and not.

A couple of additional ideas are thrown out before the vast majority settles on a simple, easy game of red light, green light.

At least….it was supposed to be easy.

“Damnit!” Bayley cusses as she and Jade are the next set of players to fail to make it to the next round. Jade rolls her eyes and mumbles something incoherent as she flips off Trick who makes a smart comment as she moves back by his side, taking her wine cooler from him.

Bayley comes near Solana who sits on Roman’s lap after having been eliminated in the last round. Of course, Roman opted to not participate, much rather keeping his eyes and focus on Jey’s kids who were also eliminated earlier on.

Especially a smiling Jayla as she sits there counting a surprising amount of money for a young child.

Huh. 

Solana wonders where she got it from.

Bayley shakes her head, downing some more of her coca cola. Like Solana, she’s remained sober thus far. “Shit is hard.”

“Not really,” Roman comments without much consideration as he takes a sip of his beer. Solana doesn’t know what to make of the fact that the stressors of the party thus far have driven her husband to drink. Her husband who rarely ever drinks.

She’s most definitely going to have to make this up to him, though she has a good mind that he’s well ahead of her with that.

Bayley scoffs. “Whatever, Reigns.”

Solana subtly moves her hand on top of Roman’s free hand that’s placed on her stomach, his arm wrapped almost protectively around her.

She starts to lean into his strong chest but ultimately decides against it, mindful of the image. Cognizant of the fact that their current position simply looks like the possessive Tribal Chief making known what belongs to him. A necessity given not everyone present is privy to the fact the marriage between the two of them is so much more than a business transaction, an arrangement common to their world.

It’s real.

As real as their feelings and love for each other. 

“Red light!” Sami calls out. As a self proclaimed ‘master strategist,’ he was easily voted as the one to judge who does and does not make it to the next round. He starts listing off the names of people who moved afterwards. Two of Solo’s sons, Cam, Montez, Carmelo, and Jey.

The almost drunk latter of which is not pleased by. 

At all.

Jey sucks his teeth. “Whatchu’ mean I’m out?” Deep scowl on his face, he argues. “I didn’t even move.”

A group of disagreement sounds, including Roman who says so matter-of-factly, “you moved, Jey.”

“Uce, listen, it’s all good. Maybe in the next game—”

“I said I didn’t move!” Jey snaps, cutting off Sami’s attempt at normalizing his elimination. “Now, let’s keep going.”

Sami walks over and almost nervously runs his hand through his unruly hair. “Jey, man, you—you got eliminated—”

“Imma eliminate your ass if you don’t get the fuck away from me!” Jey’s growing aggressiveness seems to capture the focus of the attendees, current and former players alike. “I don’t know why you’re even here!”

Sami’s eyes go wide as he gestures to himself. “Me? I—” He points toward Solana who has a small frown on her face, seeing where this is headed. “Soso—”

That’s clearly the wrong thing to say, a visibly inebriated Jey snapping yet again, “aye, you don’t call her that! She not your family, motherfucker!.”

Jimmy rolls his eyes, calling out as he prepares yet another plate of food. “Fool, would you calm your ass down.”

“Naw, cause I’m sick of this shit. Sick of him acting like he one of us!”

“Hey, I’m just as much Bloodline as you, Uce!”

Jey shoves Sami, forcing the other man to the ground. “Call me that one more time, and Imma lay your homeless looking ass out!”

Roman’s heavy sigh comes from underneath Solana as he lightly taps her stomach, prompting her to get up so he can stand. She does so, watching him roll his big shoulders and walk over to the now arguing men, deep voice declaring, “enough!”

At that, not a single watchful eye isn’t on Roman. The Tribal Chief. “I’m sick of this shit with the both of ya’ll. You want to act like kids? Then I’m gon’ treat you like kids.” Solana swallows. Everything about her husband is so commanding and powerful. From the way he stands, to the way he speaks, even his presence. One knows who he is without even needing to really know who he is. “I don’t believe in airing shit out in public. I believe in handling it like men or in the ring, but since you two can’t seem to do that, I want you to lay it all out because I want this problem fixed. Right now.” Roman ends his speech with an almost growl, the Wise Man rushing over as Roman turns away, his back toward Jey and Sami, head down, hands clasped together.

Power.

A wide eyed Paul looks between the other men, “the—the Tribal Chief said—”

“Of course,” Sami cuts him off, standing again and looking down a bit as he seems to struggle with how to start. “Well, uhh, okay, umm.” Solana briefly surveys the backyard. From the youngest to the oldest, all eyes are on the scene before her. “I’ll be the first to admit, there’s been a bit of a communication breakdown as of late, and it’s been pretty specifically with Jey, but I gotta be honest, I don’t understand exactly what’s going on here.” Solana neither. She just suddenly remembers it was Jey and Sami who got into it during WarGames all those months ago and still haven’t seemed to hash it out. “I–I like you. Man, I like you. I’ve always liked you. But, it seems ever since I joined the Bloodline, I don’t know what it is, but it seems you can’t seem to stand me, and I don’t understand it.” He motions to Jimmy who’s eating. “Jimmy seems fine.” He points out to each man that he begins to list. “Solo seems fine. The Tribal Chief seems fine. The Wise Man seems….not fine, but that’s okay. Everyone, for the most part, seems fine except you, and I don’t know what I did to offend you. I really don’t. But, whatever I did to offend you, but whatever it is, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I just don’t want this to keep going on like this anymore.” He steps closer to Jey. “Seriously, I’m sorry. Whatever I did. I’m sorry. So, can we just be cool? Can we bury the hatchet once and for all?” Sami now has his hand extended to Jey. A peace offering, of sorts.

Solana finds herself waiting with a withheld breath, Bayley beside her, watching just as keenly as she is. 

It’s a good minute before Jey speaks. “Sami, you got about two seconds to get that out my face.” There’s a chorus of hushed reactions around the yard, Solana sighing heavily. So much for peace. “I don’t like you.” That much, to anyone with good eyes, is painfully obvious. “I don’t like your hair. I don’t like your face. I don’t like that shirt you wearing.” Solana can admit she found the black shirt with ‘the honorary uce’ written in red letters a bit….much. “Hey, hey! I don’t like you being around my family every single week. My dawg this, My dawg that.” Jey mocks, anger rising in his tone and body language. “How you think you part of the Bloodline, and you ain’t blood!” Solana swallows, redirecting her attention to Roman who has his eyes closed. She can see it. His own wrath growing at his clear directions not being followed. This problem is far from moving in the direction of fixing. “Newsflash for you, Sami. You never will be, Uce. You don’t belong here.” Solana looks back over at Sami, feeling bad for him. To be talked to like this in front of everyone has to be embarrassing. It also makes her feel personally responsible, to some extent.

She maybe shouldn’t have invited him. Especially if she knew how tense things were between him and Jey.

“Don’t nobody in this group like you. I’m just the realest one to say it out loud. You’s a fake ass, Uce.” Damn. “You know what the difference between you and me is? I shed blood for every single one of my family members here, because it’s my family! Not yours!” Silence. “Would you do it? Huh? Would you? I’m asking you a question! Would you—”

‘Why are you yelling at me, huh?” Sami finally cuts in, raising his voice a little as well. “Why are you yelling at me? I’m trying to make peace!” He’s outright shouting at this point, face turning red from his own escalating anger. He then points to Roman. “The Tribal Chief said he wants peace!”

“Man, I don’t give a damn what the Tribal Chief say!”

Solana can’t look at Roman fast enough. Her eyes widening in alarm as his head shoots up, his expression something both shocked and cold. Solana doesn’t rip her gaze from him, seeing how he slowly turns his head and then his body in the direction of Jey, who doesn’t look nearly as terrified as everyone else seems right now.

She’s almost certain she hears Montez mumble something about, “oh, that nigga dead now for sure.” Trick murmuring back, "rip to the homie. yeet for life."

Roman’s fury is palpable, felt and stretched across the spacious backyard. He’ livid. Naturally, she moves to go by him, to try to calm him down. Irritation is one thing, like his annoyance with the party. But, this is something different. Deeper. Heavier.

She doesn’t like seeing him this upset. It worries her for his blood pressure.

However, Bayley suddenly reaches for her, stopping her, subtly shaking her head. Solana starts to pull away when it hits her.

She can’t interfere. 

Because if Roman were to back or even calm down because of her, it would reveal the influence she has on him. It would expose some depth of his feelings for her, and that can’t happen. For a variety of reasons. So, she remains where she is, despite the coiling in her stomach.

She lets the Tribal Chief do what needs to be done.

Sami, surprisingly, is the one to try to interfere as Roman steps closer and closer to Jey, big shoulders squaring, fist forming at his side. “Hey, uhh, My Tribal Chief, Jey didn’t—he didn’t mean that. He just—” Sami is silenced by Roman shoving him nearly across the damn yard, the man tumbling to his bottom looking even more flustered.

But, the focus isn’t on him for long, because before Solana can even process what’s happening, Roman is on Jey. Tackled to the ground, Jey is suddenly under the onslaught of Roman’s heavy fist raining blow on top of blow onto him. 

Solana is momentarily taken off guard, briefly in a state of shock, both at what’s unfolding before her but also the lack of anyone trying to intervene. Even Jimmy. Even Jey’s kids who Naomi tries to herd and steer from seeing their father being so brutally beaten.

She doesn’t know how to feel, what to think, or how to respond. A part of her wants to call out for her husband, try to pull him from his fit of rage, but it’s when she thinks about it, really thinks about, she knows she can’t. 

She could, but it would only make things worse.

Solana hates this for Jey, hates this for her husband, hates this for both of them.

But……she also knows that Jey messed up. Really messed up. To say something so disrespectful is one thing, but to say it so loudly and boldly in front of a group of people is an entirely different ballpark.

Jey publicly disrespected Roman. Disrespected his Tribal Chief in front of people, thus Roman has to address it properly.

And violently.

Jey’s coughing up blood as Roman stomps on his ribs. She has to turn her head, to look away. This is the side of Roman she knows exists but would rather never see. The same way she knows he would prefer she never see either.

“Acknowledge me!” His furious voice travels through the yard and penetrates everyone’s five senses. It also makes Solana realize he’s been saying as such for the past few minutes. Demanding it. “Now!”

Jey is beaten pretty badly, blood spilling from his nose and seeped in between his teeth as he opens his mouth. It’s an ugly thing. All of it. And Solana notices the slight snarl of his lip before he forces out, “I—I acknowledge you—” he coughs up a mixture of phlegm and blood. “My Tribal Chief.”

Roman’s heaving, hulking figure straightens, his hair now down, having come out of his bun. The next thing to come out of his mouth sending chills down her spine. “If you ever disrespect me like that again, I’ll kill you.”

Solana doesn’t want to believe he’s being honest. That he’s telling the truth. She’d prefer to believe that he’s putting on a show of sorts, because he has to. Because he has to show his dominance. But, there’s a part of her that knows he’s not lying.

He means that.

Roman doesn’t look her way as he announces to the crowd, “party’s over!” She wants to be surprised at that, but she’s not. Maybe a bit disappointed. But, not surprised. “Everyone get the hell out of my house!”

He keeps his focus on the house and motions for the Wise Man to follow him as he stomps out, again without sparing her a single look.

Roman only needs to speak once, Solana seeing the people starting to throw their trash away as they clearly prepare to depart.

“This is my fault,” Solana finally speaks, turning to Bayley. Shaking her head, eyes watering, she shares, “I should have never—”

“Solana, it wasn’t your fault.” Bayley places her hands on Solana’s shoulders, explaining. “Jey….Jey should have known better than to say some dumb shit like that. I thought they were past all that.”

At that, Solana frowns, catching out the corner of her eye as Naomi and Jimmy tend to Jey. “What do you mean?”

“Years ago, like when they were in their twenties, Jey and Roman hit some sort of rough patch. I don’t know all the details, just what Naomi told me. But, I guess Jey was being difficult and almost testing Roman, in private and in front of other Bloodline members. It got to the point where Jey even challenged Roman for the title as Tribal Chief.”

Solana gasps. That’s the last thing she expected to hear. Even more surprising than the brutal beatdown she just witnessed. “What?”

Bayley nodded. “It was an in-ring fight, something to do with their Samoan traditions. Obviously, Roman won, and Jey officially acknowledged him. They’ve been fine since then, so I don’t know where that came from or what inspired it, probably the alcohol, but….just know it wasn’t your fault, and I’m sure Roman hated he had to do that in front of you, but he couldn’t just let Jey disrespect him like that.” And then, clearly wanting Solana to understand that Jey actually got off easy, she adds, “if he wasn’t family, Roman would have killed him. He wouldn’t have had a choice.”

And if that was the alternative, Solana is filled with an overwhelming amount of appreciation for what just transpired.

The lesser of two evils. 

“This was exciting!” Abuelita’s enthusiastic tone sounds from beside them, Solana seeing her accompanied by Juanita and Bernardo. “That husband of yours is a beast.” It’s said in an almost complimentary tone.

Bayley rolls her eyes. “Abuelita, please.” She shakes her head, asking Solana, “do you want me to stay behind and help you clean up?”

She thinks about it for a moment, remembering that Roman already arranged to have a cleaning crew handle outside. Inside is relatively easy to tackle. Definitely something she can handle on her own. “No. That’s okay…..I’ve got it.”

Bayley nods and reminds Solana to call her if she needs anything, the Tribal Chief's wife bidding farewell to some of the other attendees before briefly bringing her attention back to Jey. 

Solana happens to catch Solo saying something to Jey, prompting the latter to shove his little brother. Jimmy jumps in, ushering Jey away while Solo smirks. 

She’s curious about whatever it is that Solo said, but she’s mostly focused on Jey. For someone who was objectively in the wrong, he doesn’t look remorseful or contrite.

He looks angry.

————

It’s after everyone has left that Solana seeks out her husband. An intentional thing because she also wants to grant him some space to calm himself down. 

He’s in the bathroom, in the shower, based upon the sound of the running water. 

A glance at Dulce who’s sleeping peacefully in her bed, Solana hasn’t the slightest clue what drives her to go for the hem of her dress as she pulls it up and over her head. It falls to the floor as she reaches behind her to unclasp her bra, also allowing it to fall to the floor. And finally, with a deep breath, she slides her underwear down her legs, letting them join the rest of her clothes.

Stepping out of her shoes, she moves in the direction of the bathroom door, completely ignoring all sudden insecurity regarding her nakedness. Solana closes her eyes and swallows as she carefully opens the door, walking in, eyes shifting to the shower.

As expected, he’s standing there under the running water, back toward her, hands braced against the wall, head dropped.

Solana frowns. She can practically feel his distress.

Closing the door behind her, Solana is intentional about her footsteps, doing her best not to catch his attention. Something that’s highly unlikely but exactly what happens. Even as she steps into the spacious shower, water instantly drenching her just as much as it soaks him due to the several showerheads.

She’s nearly inches away when he turns around, harsh expression instantly melting into something of shock and confusion. Her lips go dry as his gaze briefly drops to her naked body, water droplets rolling off her heavy breast and down the slope of her pudgy belly.

“Solana….” His eyes shut as she moves toward him. Her hands rest on his chest, as she chews on her bottom lip. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off, shaking her head as the water continues to soak her hair, weighing it down just as much as his. “You don’t—it’s okay.”

Eyes opening, his expression is as pained as his voice. “I don’t like you seeing that side of me….” 

She knows. Knows that he’s always tried to be mindful of his temper around her, tried to always and only show her the caring side reserved just for her. But, that’s just it. “There’s no side of you that I don’t love, Roman.”

Because it’s the truth. 

Because if there’s one thing that Solana has learned, especially after meeting and speaking with Fetu, it’s that Roman never stood a chance. From a young child, he was groomed and tailored into the killer he is now. He wasn’t given the space and freedom to ever be anything but the best and to be unfeeling. She’s happy that with her, he has some escape, but she also knows that majority of the time, he can’t be that.

He has to be the Head of the Table.

And that’s exactly who he was in this situation.

Who he had to be.

The Tribal Chief.

“I’m not scared of you, Roman…” She murmurs, wondering if that’s part of the concern. She moves her hands to his cheek, stressing, “I could never be scared of you.” 

He seems relieved by that. But, still torn. Solana’s stomach coils a bit as he moves his hands to her waist and pulls her against him. Her eyes shut feeling his impressive length, even in a flaccid state, against her stomach. 

It gives her an idea.

Dropping one hand and venturing it down his chiseled, wet body, Solana shoves away her nerves as she touches him, wraps her fingers around him as best she can given his girth.

Roman hisses, eyes closing again. “Solana….”

He’s so good to her, always so good to her. She just wants to return the favor. Wants to take away some of his burdens the same way he never hesitates to take away hers.

Gradually sliding her hand down his dick, feeling his grip on her hips tightening—as well as the hardening in her hand—she licks her lips and murmurs a simple request. 

“Show me how to please you……”

————

After their lovemaking in the shower, Solana manages to encourage Roman to take a nap, recognizing his exhaustion from the day’s events. Something he only agrees to because she agrees to nap with him. Not that much of a sacrifice considering she’s probably just as exhausted as him.

And it’s clearly much needed sleep for her husband who doesn’t even stir when she moves to take Dulce outside to pee.

It just so happens that Solana is about to ascend the staircase, Dulce ahead of her and already heading back to the room courtesy of Jimmy teaching her how to go up and down the steps, that she hears the doorbell. She pauses on the first step, quickly and mentally going over who could be ringing their doorbell at almost 10pm at night.

She starts to ignore it, not sure if it’s a good idea to open it, but Solana also remembers the gate. The secured gate as well as security that constantly patrols the premises. No one who Roman wouldn’t want getting past, for safety reasons, would be ringing their doorbell. 

Especially this late.

It’s why she eventually settles on closing her up the front of her robe and walking over to the door, opening it. And when she does, she’s instantly wondering if it was a good idea. Two men. Both tall. Very tall. Built. One moderately more built than the other. Both their complexions are tanned, but the man with the bald head wearing expensive looking glasses and half a sleeve that peeks through his short sleeve polo is a brick. 

Solana has always thought Roman to be muscular, but this man could give her husband a run for his money.

It’s the other man though, long hair pulled back in a slightly messy bun. Similar to how Roman keeps his hair. It’s as he lifts his sunglasses from off his face and sets it atop of his head that she sees something so familiar. 

Eerily familiar. 

“Hi.” She finally finds her voice, clearing her throat as she asks, “can I help you with something?”

“We’re looking for Roman.” The familiar looking one speaks with a slightly thick accent as he asks with a small smirk. “Is he home?”

Solana’s not sure where it comes from, but something almost protective fills her as her grip on the door tightens just a bit. “What—what do you want with my husband?”

The slightly taller one smiles “Solana.” He lazily rakes his eyes over her in a way that’s not objectively problematic but makes her shift her weight from one leg to the other. “Of course.” She’s not sure how to feel about him knowing who she is, but it’s a short lived concern, because not even a full minute later, a welcome familiarity appears.

“Sol.” Roman’s deep voice calls her attention, startling her. She turns around to see him only a few steps above the ground, shirtless, wearing only dark joggers. Slowly, he steps down to the floor and she naturally moves beside him. Solana holds onto his arm as he focuses his attention on the two men. His face shifts into something of surprise. “What the hell are you two doing here?”

The one who identified her by name chuckles. “Good to see you too, cousin.”

Solana frowns. 

Cousin?

“Solana.” He looks down for a second, gesturing to the other two. “These are my….my cousins. Dwayne and Matteo.”

There’s a brief look of something in Matteo’s face, something that’s pushed away as he offers an almost charismatic smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Solana.” His eyes twinkle almost as he asks. “Solana….that’s Spanish, right? Sunshine?”

Her smile is a bit less reluctant to appear. He seems so…..pleasant. “It is. Do you speak it?”

“I do. One of the languages I picked up in my younger years. A beautiful language.”

She’s taken back by him speaking to her in Spanish but naturally, she responds in the same language. “Yes, it is. You speak it well.”

“Well, thank you. I take it you are native?”

She nods. “My mom was Mexican. She taught me.”

“What the fuck are you saying to her?” Roman cuts in, irritation present in his deep voice. “Speak English.” She keeps herself from rolling her eyes. A playful thing in intention but something that could be perceived as disrespectful, she’s certain. “Answer my question. What are you doing here?”

Solana is also partially curious what could have apparent cousins at their front door at such an hour. Something tells her it’s nothing good.

“We need to talk.” Dwayne answers, smile wiped from his face, tone solid and firm.

Solana looks up when she feels Roman tap her hip. Voice dipping a bit in volume, he instructs, “go upstairs.”

She’s not sure why, but there’s a level of anxiety that forms following his instruction. It makes sense. He clearly needs to talk business, and that’s something she doesn’t need to be present for. But, there’s something about leaving him alone with these two random men that makes her feel scared.

Scared for him.

She doesn’t want to leave him.

Roman must recognize this, thumb gently and subtly moving over her hip. “Go.” It’s firmer this time around, but she hears it. Hears the unspoken please in it.

Nodding, she offers Dwayne and Matteo a small smile. “It–it was nice meeting you.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be the last time,” Matteo answers, eyes briefly flicking to Roman. “We are family, after all.”

Solana sees the slight snarl of Roman’s lip and almost palms his cheek, a comforting gesture when she remembers where they are and who they’re in front of. Clearing her throat, she instead takes heed to his guidance, moving up the steps and into their bedroom where she closes the door.

Solana is barely out of the line of vision when Dwayne, who had his eyes glued on her retreating figure, the switch of her hips and sway of her ass the entire time, comments to Roman, “I see why you haven’t come yet.” He smirks, heading in the direction of Roman’s office. “At least not to Italy.”

Roman gives a chuckling Matteo a look that could kill, if possible, walking without another word to his office where Dwayne already sits, plopped on the sofa.

“What happened?” Is the first thing Roman asks after sitting down at his desk. Because Dwayne wouldn’t have come all this damn way for something that could be covered in a phone or video call.

Matteo smirks. “Maybe he missed home.” 

Roman glares. It’s bad enough he has to be around him at his official office but now the fucker is in his home too. Today has just been a complete shitshow. “And maybe I should put a fucking bullet in your head.”

Dwayne sighs. “Brothers.” But, before Roman can spear him through the nearest wall, Dwayne gets to business. “We have a problem.”

“Obviously,” Roman hisses. “What is the problem is is what I want to know.”

“We had a shipment infiltrated. Stolen. 7 figures worth of arms. Eight men killed,” Matteo explains, cutting right to the chase as he sits in the chair opposite Roman’s desk. “IT found a phone on the scene. Russian.”

“The Russians?” At that, Roman scowls. “That doesn’t even make any sense. Our alliance with them has been strong for almost twenty years. Why would Knyazev risk that?”

Anatoly Knyazev. Leader of the Russian mob, the same man Roman secured and formed an alliance with as one of his first accomplishments as Capo. The older man is smart, seasoned, and practical, for all things considered. He rules ruthlessly but wisely. For them to interfere in Cosa Nostra business makes no sense whatsoever. 

“I agree,” Matteo voices. “But, the administration isn’t happy. The loss of product is one thing, but our men’s blood being spilled is another thing entirely.”

Roman curses quietly. Product can be replaced. Lives can’t. And while Roman feels nothing of the sort, the Administration views any and all members of the Cosa Nostra as family. From the little man to their top assassins. Loss of life is something they don’t stand for.

At all.

“They want vengeance,” Dwayne supplies, clearly reading Roman’s mind. 

“They’re not going to do shit,” Roman growls, slamming his fist on the table. “The last thing we need is a war with our biggest ally.”

Especially with very little proof outside of a damn phone that very well could have been staged, which is exactly what Roman is betting on. 

“I agree,” Dwayne sounds, “but guess who’s going around trying to instigate?” 

Roman doesn’t even have to think. “Luca.” This fucker has always been annoying, even in the few interactions Roman had with him, but now he’s older and even more annoying. Starting shit that Roman is going to have to deal with, and if there’s one thing Roman hates, it’s having to clean up other people’s messes. 

Matteo nods, leaning forward in his chair. “I told you. He wants you out. Bad. Personally, I think he was behind it.” Roman’s intrigue must show, his desire to hear more, proven by his continued silence. The other man explains. “You were right in that the business is the best it’s ever been under your command, but if he can change that, can make it seem like we’re starting to fall off the top of the food chain. Make it seem like you don’t care about the Cosa Nostra—”

“He can make a case to uproot me,” Roman finishes in a dark tone. 

“Or worse,” Dwayne adds, shaking his head. “Look, Roman. It’s obvious there’s some shit going on that we haven’t figured out, but until then, we have to be careful. Matteo and I are the only ones who seem to find the Russians deciding to start shit after years of partnership fishy. And to be honest, we need to keep it that way. Keep our speculation between us, because we don’t know who we can trust. Especially with Luca’s ass in the background scheming.” Dwayne leans back in his seat. “The Administration wants a briefing though. Wants to know how we proceed. If we strike back. And they’re not going to want to hear shit from the mixed breeds. At least not Matteo and I.”

Roman looks away, already knowing what’s coming.

“You need to go there. Make a statement. Not a phone call or video conference. In person. Make your orders clear. Reaffirm and remind them that you’re the Capo.” Matteo isn’t saying anything Roman doesn’t already know. Not that makes hearing it any better. “You can’t push this off anymore, Roman.”

“He’s right,” Dwayne agrees. “The longer you wait, the more it looks like your priorities are for the Bloodline only. That you’re only capable of running one, meaning it’s time for new leadership.”

His words drip with a truth that only has Roman’s anger rising. “Unfortunately, because it’s clear there’s an uprising brewing, you coming now puts you at higher risk for an assassination attempt. You’ll have to travel covertly. I’ll take care of that. I just need you to get on the damn plane.”

None of that is surprising as Roman provides his timeline. “Two weeks.” Both Matteo and Dwayne seemed far from pleased at this. Oh fucking well. “I have Bloodline business to handle next week. I can leave the week after.”

It’s not a lie. Jey’s little stunt will require a more public display of dominance, and what better way to remind everyone of who runs things than a public execution?

It’s time to grant Drew MCIntyre that match he’s been so desperate to have. Roman having his Wise Man make the arrangements earlier following Jey��s outburst.  

“Fine. Two weeks,” Matteo relents. As if he had a choice. “You’ll need to stick around at least a week. Or two. A day or two appearance will give off the indication you’re uninterested and being performative.” Again, not something Roman doesn’t already know, but again again, there’s an issue. A huge issue.

Solana.

It’s only been two weeks since she completed treatment and returned home from the residential facility. But, in those two weeks she’s expressed on several occasions the best thing about being back home is being with him.

With Roman.

And now he has to leave her. Has to handle business. Dangerous business. A situation that could very well end up in some type of attempt on his life.

That doesn’t bother him. Roman’s been attacked and the subject of assassination attempts his whole damn life. It’s almost boring to him at this point.

What does bother him, however, is Solana knowing about this. Knowing the real reason why he has to fly halfway across the world seemingly out of nowhere. 

Which is why she can’t know.

He can’t and won’t put that on her. She already worries about him. If she knew the real reason for the trip, she’d be terrified and beg him to not go. And not going simply isn’t an option anymore. He’s almost wishing he had just gone before. 

It might have been a hell of a lot easier leaving her then compared to now when there’s so much more at stake.

Fuck.

“This conversation needs to remain between the three of us. No one else.” Matteo’s reminder irks Roman. He’s not fucking stupid.

Dwayne senses Roman is about to say some out of pocket shit, cutting in, “Matteo. You said you may have some contacts to further investigate what really happened with the shipment, right? Reach out. See what you can find.”

Matteo nods, smirk on his handsome face. “Already on it.” 

Dwayne mirrors his expression. “Good.” He then gestures to Roman. “Let me talk to this asshole alone, please.”

Matteo scoffs quietly, standing up and adjusting his collar. “My pleasure.” He shoots his younger, half brother a wry grin. “Your wife is much better company than you.”

Roman shoots up from his desk, wanting to pitch something after Matteo’s laughing, retreating form.

“I like that guy,” Dwayne also laughs, lifting his hands in a surrender motion when Roman directs his murderous gaze to him. “Still a sensitive subject, I see.”

Roman plops back down in his chair, looking off as he asks his cousin, “you trust him?”

Dwayne’s answer is almost an instantaneous thing. “Wouldn’t have sent him here or brought him to your house if I didn’t.” It’s similar to his response when Roman first inquired about Matteo being sent as the ‘spy’ for the Cosa Nostra. “We’re gonna have to play this careful, Roman. I can’t describe it yet, but I got a feeling some shit is about to go down.”

Roman doesn't say anything, but that doesn’t mean he’s not listening. Not planning. Strategizing. 

“Solana….” The change in subject takes him a bit by surprise. “How she doing?”

Discussing certain details regarding Solana and her mental health is something few are privy to. Roman can count on one, maybe two hands who knew Solana has been away receiving mental health treatment. To most, she was hurt and shot that night at the lounge and has been away recovering. That’s the story Roman wanted put out in an effort to protect her privacy.

But, Dwayne is one of those few who knows the truth about where she’s been.

And why she was there.

“Better.” A part of him wants to say much better, because she seems that way, but he also doesn’t want to get too comfortable. To let his guard down. “She said it helped a lot. Medication seems to be making a difference too.”

“Good. She seems sweet.”

“She is.” The kindest person Roman has ever met. Much too kind for someone like him.

Dwayne sits back in his seat, wolfish grin on his face. “That’s a fine woman you got there, brotha.” And just like that, Roman’s older cousin is teetering the thin line between life and death. “Not sure I’d want to leave her either.” Brows furrowed, Dwayne asks, “what’s the Bloodline business?”

Roman quickly catches his cousin up on today’s events. Jey’s disrespect, mostly. 

Dwayne’s response, however, is another thing Roman wasn’t entirely expecting. “You did what you had to do. Jey knows how this goes. He brought it on himself.”

There’s not a ton of disagreement there. Doesn’t make him feel much better about it though.

“Well,” Dwayne releases a heavy sigh, standing up after slapping his thighs. “I better get out of here. That son of a bitch Austin owes me a beer.”

Roman chuckles. “Just one?”

Dwayne’s smile is as mischievous as whatever he has planned once walking out that door. “Or two.”

A smile breaks on Roman’s face as he stands up, sharing a brief hug with his cousin. He has a strong feeling the next time he sees him will be on Italian soil. “Be safe.”

“I’m not the one with a bounty over my head, brotha.” It’s both comical and serious at the same time, in only the way Dwayne can achieve. “Tell that fine ass wife of yours I said goodnight.”

At that, Roman cuts his eyes, shoving his chuckling cousin away. “Shut the fuck up.”

Giving himself a few minutes to settle and push away any sign of stress or frustration, it’s not until about ten minutes later that he returns to the bedroom.

Roman is unsurprised to find Solana sitting on the middle of the bed, earbuds in, writing away in her journal. However, she’s almost immediately aware of his presence, ripping out those same buds and shutting her notebook. She’s instantly climbing off the bed and walking over to him.

“Are you okay?” Her hands ghost over his arms, as if she’s trying to feel for some sort of injury. “What was that about?”

He shrugs. “Just business stuff.” Not a lie. Just a very vague answer.

“This late?” Truth be told, the work never stops in this life, but he knows that’s not exactly what she’s referring to. “It’s—it’s something bad, isn’t it?”

“No.” The answer—a lie—comes out much easier and smoother than he’d like it to. “Just something that needs to be handled, and I’ll handle it.”

 “But—”

“Hey.” He brings his hands to her waist, sneaking them past the open robe she wears, partially wanting to take it off her entirely. The two piece pajamas she has on deserve to be seen and not cloaked in any way. “Everything’s okay. Alright?”

She still looks concerned, and he hates that. Hates all of this. The lying to her, especially. “You would….you would tell me if it wasn’t….right?”

No.

That’s what he wants to say. The truth. Roman would and will absolutely keep anything and everything from her if it meant/means keeping her safe. Even if it makes her upset with him. He’ll deal with that.

He’ll take it any day, because her safety is the most important thing to him. 

Mentally and physically. 

“Yes.” Even if it makes him have an almost visceral reaction at having to lie to her like this. Even if it is for the better. “But nothing’s wrong, so there’s no need to worry, alright?” 

He needs to tell her about the trip. That he has to leave in two weeks. There’s definitely no way around that, but it doesn’t need to happen tonight. Especially when he needs to work out the details and logistics, because Roman’s been administering Solana’s medication to her every morning since her release. She doesn’t even know where he keeps it, where he keeps any of the prescription and OTC pills in the house. Because he has them all hidden, something he’s not sure he’ll ever feel ready enough to change.

He also takes her to her continued weekly therapy appointments with Gail.

All of that can’t be interrupted with his absence, but the same person he called before to stay with her while he was gone to see his aunt is the same person he still holds partially responsible for Solana’s attempt in the first place.

Bayley.

Roman won’t make that mistake ever again.

So, until all of that is figured out, he’ll say nothing.

Plus, he already feels bad enough for ruining her party. No need to ruin her night as well.

At least with the party thing, he can make that up. He will make that up. Even if it means what he has planned including more people than he originally accounted for. The thought alone is far from exciting, but he’s determined to do right by her this time around.

Even if it does mean forcing himself to behave.

Somewhat.

Solana is visibly less anxious, but the remaining apprehension seems to melt away the minute she presses herself into his chest. She’s instantly relaxed and so is he. Having her in his arms seems to give him just as much comfort as she gets from it.

“Roman?”

He runs his hand across her back. “Hmm?”

Peering up at him is a mixture of skepticism and worry. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Not exactly. “You said you’d try talking to me more.”

He did. And he will, but the full extent of what is now on his plate is a weight he can’t and won’t share with her. He won’t burden her with his woes. 

He can, however, give her something.

“Jey…..” Because that’s most definitely not a lie. The shit with Jey was the last thing he expected to happen today. Almost as unexpected as Dwayne’s visit. “The twins annoy me majority of the time, but they’re still….still my family.”

“You didn’t want to do that, Roman.” Solana is suddenly comforting him, her soft voice offering what he already knows to be true but appreciates hearing. “You……you didn’t have a choice. Jey….Jey should understand, right?”

“Should.” There’s a conflicted hint to his voice, because Jey should have known better than to disrespect Roman like that in front of an audience. Because truth be told, Roman would not have responded so violently had it even just been the usual group of Naomi, Bayley, and Jimmy. Even the Wise Man. Roman would have preferred a different, less physical route, but that wasn’t an option. The ‘choice’ Roman made was really the only choice he could make without looking weak in front of others.

Solana hugs him a little tighter, continuing to put him on a pedestal he has no business being on. “You’re a good man, Roman. I know….I know you don’t believe it, but you are.” 

That’s because she has no idea a fraction of the things that he’s done. If she truly knew the horrors he’s committed over the years, the lives he’s taken, she’d never look at him the same.

He sometimes wonders if she’d even still feel the same way.

If she’d still love him.

Solana leans up and kisses his cheek before taking his hand in hers. Sliding her robe off and tossing it onto the bed, she murmurs, “let’s go to bed.” Roman wordlessly follows her over to the California King bed, watching her move her journal and case for her earbuds onto the nightstand as she pulls him down with her. Naturally, Solana falls into their go-to sleeping position. Her body nearly on top of his, her arm sprawled across his abdomen and her head on his chest.

She’s partially soothed by the way he keeps his hand planted on the small of her back. Partially because something tells her Roman isn’t being entirely honest about whatever conversation he had with his cousins she’s never even heard of until this evening. In all the time they’ve been together, she doesn’t remember once anyone ever coming to their home this late to discuss business. 

Maybe a phone call.

Never an in-person visit. 

A part of her wants to push him on it, but she also knows the Jey situation is still bothering him, so she doesn’t want to overwhelm him. 

But, the other part, maybe an even bigger part doesn’t want to because it feels hypocritical. Him to be honest with her when she’s not being entirely honest with him. When she actually wanted to tell him something instead of asking again if he’s alright.

A split second decision being made to keep certain information to herself until she’s 100% sure, because she knows that he’ll most likely have to inform the Elders he’s spoken about a couple of times. And the last thing she wants is to send him with a message that ends up being a false alarm.

Because her period has been late before. Sometimes up to two weeks late. It’s just that this is the first time it’s been late with her being sexually active. With her having regular sex with her husband as a potential variable. Regular, unprotected sex.

But again, she’s not certain. Wants to give it a little while longer before she finally pulls out one of the pregnancy tests she’s had collecting dust in one of the cabinets in their master bathroom. It’s too soon though. Too many other things it could be besides that.

So, until then, she waits.

She’ll wait until it’s 100% confirmed, without a doubt, that she’s pregnant.

Ignoring that small, nagging gut feeling that she already knows the answer.

Knows that she is, without a doubt, pregnant.

[yzzart]

"Oh, hello, Vogue!"

pairing: Tom Blyth x actress!reader.

summary: invited by Vogue, you and Tom participate in a famous panel about answering quick questions.

word count: 1.323!

notes: here it is! i focused all day, without drama, on this writing and finished it minutes ago. — enjoy!

"We're, like, Patrick and Kat!" — Tom nodded in agreement, looking and paying attention to your words and almost forgetting that you were being recorded. — "Anakin and Padmé?" — You wrinkled your nose gracefully.

"Lady and the Tramp?" — He suggested, smiling tenderly and was won over by your laugh and a long touch on his arm made by you.

"Oh my god, yes!"

"Hi, Vogue!" — In a gesture of introducing yourself, you waved to the camera in front of you accompanied by an inviting and friendly smile. — "I'm Y/N."

"And I'm Tom Blyth." — Tom introduced himself to the camera and future viewers. — "… and we are about to play Off the Cuff." — He moved the small cards, which contained countless and random questions, and directed his eyes to you.

"Uh, a great entrance!" — You crossed your legs, making yourself comfortable on the chain, and held out the small cards as your eyebrows arched at Tom.

"Thank you, my dear." — He winked at you and took, carefully and planning a bit of suspense, one of the white cards; the topics were random, they could be about TBOSAS, behind the scenes or something related to your relationship. — Everything was a mystery. — "What was the last song you listened to?"

"Hm…" — You rested one of your hands on your chin, trying to fake a thoughtful image. — "A song, which is still unknown to me, that you hummed in the morning." — Your laugh was registered and echoed throughout the room, and Tom was amused when he remembered what happened. — "I should have recorded it!"

"It was a little chorus, and it stuck in my head." — He explained, placing the small card in a reserved place next to him. — "I don't remember the name of the song, but it must be saved on my phone" — His eyes fell on you again. — "Then i can sing for you again." — Tom uttered with melody and his lips curving in a shy smile.

"So adorable and romantic" — You tilted your head, with a pleasant and welcoming smile, at your boyfriend finding your words cute. — "Oh, i think i know the answer to that, what is an item you never leave the house without?" — Your hands shook the small card, waiting for your boyfriend's response.

"You definitely know the answer!" — Tom stated in slurred words accompanied by a laugh. — "In New York, the key to my motorcycle and i have it all the time." — His chin bowed a little. — "And maybe, in the future, in your bag."

"One day i'll ride it, you can be sure." — One of the cameras focused on her face, capturing her words, or rather, a promise that you would love to keep one day.

"And i'll be there, my love." — Blyth took another card. — "Among all the characters' looks in the film, which one would you wear?"

"Definitely, all the looks worn by Tigris." — You moved your hands. — "In addition to being beautiful, they seem to be so comfortable, especially the one where she talks to Coriolanus after he tells her about Lucy Gray." — The image of the aforementioned scene was then shown in the video with editing. — "Hunter looks so beautiful in them."

"Definitely." — He agreed

"With all the sets and locations in the film, which one was your favorite?" — Another card was discarded by you. — "Tell us!" — His voice sounded curious and excited by the older man's response.

"Hm, i loved recording them all." — Tom turned his eyes to an invisible fixed point. — "But, i think i choose the cabin." — His attention returned to you. — "Even with those mosquitoes and little bugs that i've never seen in my life."

"You were scared of most." — Your laughs came in sync.

"It was impossible not to be scared!" — Tom added. — "There was one that almost got into my shirt and another in the river." — Taking another card, Tom read the words written on it and continued with a peculiar and curious expression. — "Name one unforgettable thing i've ever done for you." — The question came out slowly, delicately and with a touch of enthusiasm; and several moments, memories flashed in his mind. — "I'm excited for this."

"My god, it's impossible to give just one answer." — A slightly euphoric and nervous question left your lips, and you laughed nervously as you tried to think and choose just one of the moments and deeds that Tom has done for you. — "It's so hard to choose one." — And it wasn't exaggeration or drama.

"You don't have to think so much, darling." — Tom's voice calmed your mind so tight and focused on the answer; nervousness was visible on your face. — "I see the gears in your head locking up." — He joked, trying to relax you and leaving the cards in his lap and resting one of his hands on your leg.

Finally, something landed in your mind; It was completely automatic. — Like a lamp being turned on when touched.

"Well, it's recent, but, it's stuck in my head!" — You started. — "Ah, during the L.A premiere and you were wearing a pendant necklace and there was my initial." — The way you responded was sweet, soft and passionate in front of the camera lenses and people in the room. — "And i was speechless, just admiring that little piece and feeling like the most loved person in the world." — You sighed, with your eyes shining against the oldest's blue orbs.

"In my world, you're." — Tom confessed, looking directly into his eyes and his hand still remained on his leg. — "It was a surprise and i was so excited that i wanted to show it to you ahead of time." — That tall, young British man smiled with passion, which burned in his chest and had no embarrassment in showing it.

"A secret that no one knows and can now be revealed?" —Another slightly peculiar question.

"I have a photo, actually, a polaroid in my wallet." — Tom ran his hands through the pockets of his pants, looking for what he had mentioned, but, from his disappointed frown, the object was not present. — "It's not here, so it must be in your bag."

"100% chance." — Your head nodded, nodding in confirmation. — "Which photo is it?" — You asked, curious and wanting to see her later.

"One of the ones Rachel took backstage and it quickly became one of my favorites." — Without specification, several photos scrolled through your head. — "It was in the forest, and you were wearing a helmet, that of Coriolanus, of peacekeeper." — Oh, that!

"I think I even posted it on Instagram!" — Either it was still in your gallery, with a favorite star next to it, or, actually, in your feed. — "She's so adorable, i had her as the wallpaper on my phone for a long time."

"Now, that one I know very well." — Your boyfriend looked at the card between his fingers and then at you. — "A song that reminds me." — Tom bit his lip, vibrant and with the answer on the tip of his tongue.

"Definitely Daylight by Taylor Swift." — You pointed your index finger in his direction, thinking about more songs or explaining why you chose her. — "It's impressive how you manage to fit so well into almost all of her songs.

"And in all of our playlists, you always, always add this song." — He wasn't lying. — "I'm sure it'll be in my Spotify retrospective."

"Oh, and also that line." — You sat down in the chair again. — "In a world of boys, he's a gentleman." — Tom's ears, and those of some people behind the cameras, were witnesses to your quick and small singing; a lyric, which was also from Taylor, where fans marked it and made a point of putting it in each of his edits. — They've already shared it with you in your DM and you've already saved some videos. — "There are so many songs, i can't choose just one."

"Perfect." — Tom murmured, as his deeply, crystal clear irises admired and contemplated you.

[jenomi]

i miss you, i'm sorry

pairing: idol!jeno x idol!reader

you weren't anticipating seeing jeno at your gig today. you were at a live lounge to perform your new song and a cover of "I miss you, I'm sorry" by Gracie Abrams. you'd be lying if you said you weren't thinking of jeno when you picked that song.

jeno was here to promote his new song with his group, but you didn't bother to check who the other feature would be when you signed up for the show. nobody knew about your relationship except close friends, not even your manager so they couldn't warn you of this. both of you had to keep it a secret due to the nature of your careers.

but it was 5 years. 5 years with jeno, the love of your life. or was it now the former love of your life? it hurt your heart to think about it.

when you bumped into him and the rest of nct dream, you said your hellos politely. you used to be friends with the rest of the dreamies, but the relationship faded as you stopped dating jeno. every time you would look at jeno, it's like he had a radar for you so he would look back at you immediately. it hurt to look at him in the eyes, so you looked away quickly.

you went on stage first, performing the title song to your new mini album. it was an upbeat song, describing the freedom you feel when not bound by ropes holding you back. but for your real fans, they would study the undertones of your new song and know that it's actually a sad song about the longing for those boundaries you once had.

jeno listened to your song, because of course no matter what, he still supports you. he was by your side as you rose to fame.

looking back, you realized your relationship with jeno was a little suffocating. having to keep it a secret, not being able to eat out at your favorite restaurants, or even walk on the street together. it was fun at first and you believed you loved each other enough to make it work. but jeno started to get more and more nervous about your secret relationship, especially seeing how other male idols caught in dating scandals were treated. you tried to ease his mind on the topic, but as time went on, it was beyond saving.

you just didn't think jeno would be able to leave so easily.

"The next song I'll sing is a cover by one of my favorite artists. Um..." you weren't sure if you should give any background information, knowing jeno was backstage and might be watching, "I hope you enjoy."

"Do you remember happy together? I do, don't you?"

although the end was messy, you still cling on to the better moments in your relationship. when you went to the beach together, covered by hats, sunglasses, and a big umbrella, backs more tan than your chest from lying on your fronts to hide from the public. it was ridiculous and excessive, but you would always laugh at each other's uneven tan. when he would come home after being away for months on tour, locking himself in your house to catch up on lost time.

"You said, 'forever,' in the end I fought it. Please be honest, are we better for it?"

being together for 5 years, naturally you talked about marriage. it was forever for the both of you, you especially couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else. but now, you watch jeno from afar and online and see that he's happy. you also got some freedom back after breaking up. you can't help but wonder if maybe you outgrew each other? are you better off without each other?

a piece of your heart broke off every time you would answer 'yes'.

"You said, "forever," and I almost bought it. I miss fighting in your old apartment"

you begin tearing up as you reach the latter half of the song. you always found sanctuary at jeno's apartment. there were memories all over it.

jeno was watching from side stage. he could hear the slight quiver in your voice. he couldn't miss it, he could always tell your mood from your voice. he loved you for 5 years. how could he forget? he could also hear how much of your heart you were pouring into this song. he couldn't help but reminisce about your relationship. he felt a lump forming in his throat as he became overcome with nostalgia from your relationship.

"And I know you said that we're not talking. But I miss you, I'm sorry"

jeno told you to stop messaging him. it came out harsh, but it was too hard to stay in contact with you and not want to get back together. in the moment, he thought he was doing the right thing, but now looking back he doesn't quite remember the reason for breaking up in the first place. he kept up with your activities, he would watch your performance videos to see how you were doing and add up the streaming numbers for your success.

as he watched your videos and you performing live, he realized he messed up. how could he live without you? the time after your breakup were a blur, jeno kept busy to prevent himself from thinking about you in his free time. watching you now, crying as you sang a song about a messy breakup, much similar to the one between the two of you, his heart broke. he missed you, too. he'd like to think this song is dedicated to him - but he'll confront you after your set to talk.

as you sing the outro, you're trying your best to keep it together. too many memories were flooding back. you knew what you were getting into when choosing this song, but seeing jeno in person for the first time after he walked out on you opened the gates to all the memories you shoved in the back of your mind trying to forget.

when you finish, a tear slips down your cheek before you're able to swipe it away. the crowd cheers and coos as you bow and say your thank yous before rushing off stage.

you stop in your tracks when you see jeno standing side stage with sad, tear-rimmed eyes.

"y/n-"

the tears are about to burst just hearing your name on his lips. you hold up your hand and walk quickly towards your waiting room. you pass the other dreamies on your way as they call your name, their voices laced with concern.

you hear the producer call them on stage. good, jeno won't be chasing after you. after all, he put his job above you in the end. by the time they were done, you'd be long gone.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

part 2 here!

[deathbxnny]

helloo, platonic ratio, aventurine and sunday with a teen!reader like mafuyu asahina?

Hello Anon! Thank you for the great request, and I'll hope you'll like this!!<33

Content: Reader is a teen, platonic relationships, mentions of potential suicidal thoughts, fluff, older brother figures hsr men, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》DR. RATIO

When he first took you under his wing as a student, he was pleased with your work ethic and especially your grades. You studied all the time, excelling in everything and any subject. But despite all of these great achievements, he still noticed a certain... emptiness to you.

It started out with him noting that you never did anything else BUT studying, which he didn't think was healthy either. After digging deeper, he found out that you once had a love for music that was stomped out by your previous caretakers. And that alone made him immideatly realise many concerning things about you that needed to be helped.

He tried his best to handle the situation with the care it needed and slowly ease you into a feeling of safety for your passions around him. He'll slowly get you back into the art of music after he got you professional help, too, by asking you to sing/play him songs whilst he worked.

》AVENTURINE

Aventurine immideatly noticed something off about you, when he took you under his wing as a little assistant. You were kind, generous and helpful on the surface, but he could feel the darkness festering under it anyways. You were good at hiding the pain, yet he knew better than to think that you could keep it up forever.

He saw a part of himself in you, when he found out that the darkness had eventually turned into a need to end it all. He understood and related, which is why he wanted to save you, if he couldn't save himself. He knew about your passions and how you had to give them up when coming to the IPC and so he decided to simply make you return to what you once were.

He took you to musicals, operas, live shows, theaters, and anything else that could potentially feature music. Aventurine somehow also figured out what instrument you used to love playing and bought you the most expensive one he could get his hands on, on top of tutoring lessons if you needed them to get back into it. He was hellbent into turning you back into you once were, before he finally says goodbye to the world himself.

》SUNDAY

Hiding any form of emotions from Sunday was absolutely impossible, something he made very clear from the beginning. He noticed the way your eyes lost their light whenever no one was around, the way you'd always give everyone painfully empty smiles. But he didn't confront you on it. Not at first, at least.

He observed you for a while instead, never really letting you out of his line of sight as he began watching the way you began dipping lower and lower mentally, the more you lost your passion for anything. When he noticed you giving up your love for music too, he decided to finally confront you. He tried to be gentle and soft-spoken, even using his abilities if he had to, to find the root of the issue.

Once he gets you the help you need, he'll make it his personal mission to also help you feel better around the estate. He'll have your favorite music playing often, make plays for you to sing in, and also ask Robin to rekindle your love for your passions. He hopes that with enough patience and care, you'll be okay again and finally live out your life like a young teen should.

Okay, I hope this was alright for you, Anon, and thank you again for your request!!<33

[celestie0]

nanami kento x reader | drabble

coney island. where did my lover go?

"𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲."

ᰔ pairing. husband nanami x wife reader (f)

ᰔ summary. you're sitting on a bench in coney island, the place you and nanami met all those years ago, to talk about where your relationship went wrong. heavily inspired by the song "coney island" by taylor swift from her album 'evermore'

ᰔ warnings/tags. some pretty heavy angst. mention of blood/wounds.

ᰔ word count. 1.3k

a/n. hellooo i just had an itching to write something angsty, and i came up with something while listening to music. hope you enjoy :')

you're sitting on a bench in coney island, wondering why nanami hasn't arrived by your side yet.

pulling back the sleeve of your blouse, you glance at your watch. the evening has settled in, and it was well past the time the two of you had agreed to meet. here, where everything began all those years ago. this place, where your soul has been left to bleed dry.

it was nanami who told you not to feed the ducks any bread. before you knew him, that was all you would do. white milk bread, torn apart into pieces, tossed into the pond in front of this bench for the quacking ducks to feed on with delight. but nanami told you that's not right. he told you that the ducks cannot digest the bread the same way that you and him do. you can relate to the ducks today, unable to absorb and understand the pain within you, and in a blink of an eye, that pain takes a seat next to you.

"hello, sweetheart," nanami says, voice soft as it always is. his familiar stature is beside you in your periphery.

your eyes flicker to your watch once more. "you're late, ken."

"i know," is all he says. "forgive me?"

you do.

"i thought you were lost somewhere," you tell him, the thought sending a shiver through you. or perhaps it was the cold.

"i wasn't lost. i could never be lost, coming to this place," he assures. you glance at the skin on his hands. he looks pale, like he hasn't seen the sun in days.

you still wonder if he's lost. you wonder if that man you loved was still out there somewhere, simply wandering, trying to find his way back to you. but the disappointment is palpable, and when you close your eyes tight, the chill of the air once again bites through your bones to silence all your hope.

"i looked for you everywhere. do you know that?" you say to him. "at the park entry, across the field. by the church. i even walked by the merry-go. and i cried when i couldn't see you standing there to watch me on the blue pegasus."

from the corner of your eye, you see him turn his head to glance at you. you can see he's wearing a grey suit, the same one he wore exactly one year ago today. the one you said goodbye to him in. "it's been a long time, love. i'd wish you would let those memories go."

"we were supposed to be married forever," you barely whisper, glancing down at your ring still adorning your left hand. your eyes flicker to his hand, and the absence of the silver promise on his finger makes your soul sulk. "you've moved on from me, haven't you?"

nanami rubs his left finger with his thumb, like the sensation of the ring was a phantom limb. "i have. and i want you to move on from me as well. one day, you'll be too old to care. so don't spend another moment of your youth thinking about me."

your youth was him, from the day you met him on this bench. sprawled across it on a warm summer tuesday, reading your paperback of les misérables that had a worn out spine, gust of wind peeling a sticky note away from the page and delivering it to the front of this tall, handsome man that was walking by. he had bent down to pick it up for you, and curiously chose to read it first before handing it back. 'to love or have loved, that is enough' it said, one of your favorite quotes from the book. you didn't know what it meant at the time, but you knew what it meant now.

"were we just fools, ken?" you ask him out of nowhere. "if i had tried harder, could we have still been together? if i had let you know what it takes to be by my side, would you have still chosen to fall in love with me in the first place? how can i shake the thought that this was all a mistake?"

he shifts in his seat beside you. you still can't brave yourself to look at him. you haven't looked him in the eyes once this entire time. and you register that there's no heat from his body, leaving you feeling barren and cold.

"i would've loved you in any lifetime. there is nothing you could have done that would've kept me away," he tells you.

"so then you'll haunt me in every lifetime, too?" you ask. "a universe away from here, i'll still see your face everywhere i go?"

"no. i agreed to meet you here today to tell you that it's finally time for you to forget. those dreams of ours, of suburban holidays and tiny fingers, they can belong to someone else," he says to you, "they should belong to someone else."

you shake your head, feeling tears prickle in your eyes. christmas, winter snow, the oaky warmth of the fireplace. fresh spring air, wildflower blossoms, trees turned lush and new. salty air, summer breeze, mist of sprinklers over brown grass and skin. but by the time autumn came, there was nothing left but heartache.

"what if i asked for your forgiveness?" you say. your hands play with the bag of white bread in your lap. you thought he would scold you for it, for not remembering the wellbeing of the ducks, but truthfully you had simply forgotten. because it was like you were the version of yourself before meeting him, and you needed him to save you again.

"there's nothing to forgive," he replies. his voice is hoarse, like he's running out of air to breathe as the sun begins to set over the horizon. like this time spent together was something bought, not gifted.

"i'm sorry," you say, because you felt like you needed to say those words. "i'm sorry for how mean i was to you the last time we spoke. i don't know what got over me, but i really wish you had just stayed." your eyes prick with tears as you stare down at your lap. "i wish you weren't so quick to leave my side, even though i told you to go."

nanami places a hand over yours. you finally notice the scars and open cuts, fresh with blood. "i know, darling. as much as it troubled me to leave, i didn't want to stay and hurt you anymore."

you felt suffocated. "if i could turn back time, i would. i would go back to that moment, last week. and i would tell you to stay, so that i could've had you for the rest of a lifetime."

his thumb runs circles over the skin of your hand, but the movement is rigid and stiff. "was it last week?"

"it was." you're not mistaken, but he will try to convince you otherwise.

"i don't think so, darling."

"it was last week."

"it's been much longer than that. fifty-two fold longer."

yes. today was the anniversary. of when you buried him in the grey suit that he wears right now.

"you see my face wherever you go, hm?" nanami says to you as the tears begin to freely flow down your face. "well, when i got into the accident, the last sight that flashed before me was your face. i'm happy. i'm so happy that the last person i thought of was you."

blinking, wet drops falling onto his pale hand in your lap. "you should've stayed," you whisper. "that night, you should've just stayed with me. i would've said sorry, and i would've loved you forever."

you're sitting on a bench in coney island, wondering where your lover went. because when the sun dips underneath the horizon, his hand disappears from your lap, and you finally turn your head to look at him. but he's gone.

and when you blink the blur of salty tears from your eyes, you realize you were never sitting on that bench, waiting for him. you were standing in front of his gravestone, hoping that he'll talk to you again someday.

a/n. gege would love this one

[two-white-butterflies]

mastermind | d3

Description: Ms. L/N turns to Mrs. L/N. In which, you ponder where you've been - and where you are now.

Pairing: daniel ricciardo/singer!reader

yournameupdates: There's a lot to unpack with Y/N's new album. The consensus is 7 of the songs written are about her ex-boyfriend: Tom Hiddleston, while Style (ft. Taylor Swift) is about Harry Styles? What could be the reason for the L/N-Hiddleston breakup?

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comments

danielricciardo: More interested to hear about the record-breaking awards she's going to earn after this. - yournameupdates: She's definitely in for the records.

archianana29: I think it's because Hiddleston wants to seem like a bachelor?? Because of his new marvel film. - wannna82: she's not any better, she's profiting off his success. - - oceansdeap0: @wanna82 mind you, she came out of nowhere. - - - wannna82: @oceansdeap0 exacto! publicity stunt?

yournamehiddleston: According to Y/N's newest single: All You Had To Do Was Stay. Tom Hiddleston was the first one who called things off - but after a few months of being alone, he wanted to get back with her. Hence her explaination. All he had to do was stay :(

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f1multistan: Daniel is everywhere these days - watchasay8: Who? - - f1multistan: the f1 racer

hesaysme129: 'YOU WERE ALL I WANTED' it's over I think.

yn1989era: I love how it's her first album and she already has 1000m fans 😭 - katyandyn: Teenage Dream and 1989 are no skip albums

Daniel Ricciardo couldn't believe that he was invited to attend the Grammys. It wasn't like he did anything groundbreaking in the realm of the music industry - but thanks to his amazing management - he was finally there. Normally, he hated award shows because of the cameras that were shoved in his face.

But he couldn't find himself hating this award show.

His favorite singer, Y/N L/N, was going to be in the same table as him. He crossed his fingers - maybe even beside him?

"God, I'm so sorry for being late. There was a mile long traffic back there," you ran to embrace Beyonce, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek as you settled in your seat. Daniel began to realize that he was extremely lucky to be seating where he was.

"Daniel Ricciardo, right?" you smiled at him with those pensive E/C eyes - pulling him back into reality. "Yes, I'm a big fan." he shook your hand, feeling those soft palms press against his.

If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up.

"Is it your first time in the Grammys?" you inquired, gently fiddling with the hems of your dress. "Yeah," he scratched the back of his head - oblivious to the cameras that were planted on the both of you. "It's nice to have someone to relate to," you chuckled as it was also your first time. "I heard that award shows could get pretty boring," you consulted in him.

Daniel felt so fucking special in that moment.

You were sitting beside Beyonce, but chose to speak to him. Fuck, does that mean that he was better than Beyonce? Nope, that's blasphemy - but still, it was flattering to think that you'd choose him.

"Tell me when you get bored, there's an ice-cream place just around the corner. We could grab a few bites." he offered - taking a leap of fate. "Sounds like a plan," you smiled and he could feel the crimson blush creep up his cheeks.

✧✧✧

This was something that he'd never forget. He couldn't wait to return to the paddocks and tell Sebastian that he had ice cream with THE Y/N L/N. "Is strawberry your favorite?" he asked, seeing you gobble down the large sized roll. "Yep, I put it in everything." you smiled.

It's been a month since you last tasted strawberry ice cream - you almost forgot how good it tasted. "I'm having a lot of fun, Dan." you complimented - seeing that the tip of his nose was coated with a chocolate syrup. "Darling, there's a little something -" you motioned.

He almost forgot how to move after hearing you call him that.

He flashed you his toothy grinned smile, before wiping the syrup off his nose. "So uhh, I'd like to get your number - so we can hang out another time." you asked, staring deep into his eyes.

Daniel realized that this was the chance of a lifetime. He almost reached for his phone to give you his number - but then he realized. He left his phone at home and he didn't memorize his number.

So instead of giving you his number - he came up with something that he'd regret until the day he died - or until the day he met you again. "No." he answered with confidence. "What?" your eyes narrowed, and he smiled again.

"I'll ask for your number the next time that I see you. To check if fate is really on our side." he explained and you could only smile back.

yournameupdates: Y/N L/N and Richard Madden are confirmed to be dating! Congratulations, she's finally found her Prince Charming.

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theyn_ln: He's certainly a Prince Charming! LOL - yournameupdates: 🥺

hennalova9: THEY LOOK SO PERFECT TOGETHER I'M SO HAPPY THAT SHE MOVED ON 😭

heysistersoul23: THIS IS ENDGAME

danielricciardo: You didn't hear it from me folks, but @theyn_ln is releasing a song tonight. 😉

liked by theyn_ln, maddenrichard and 1,291,192 others

comments

theyn_ln: Well, I rarely break promises.

maddenrichard: 🔥

formulalover91: DANIEL AND Y/N? THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS

theyn_ln: Message in a Bottle MV will be released MIDNIGHT EST. @danielricciardo I always believed in you.

liked by danielricciardo and 1,290,120 likes

comments

danielricciardo: meetup when?

maddenrichard: I'm very proud of you - theyn_ln: thank you mi amor ❤️

yournameupdates: According to some insiders, Richard Madden proposed to Lilly James this March 4, 2017. But where does that leave Y/N? We demand an explaination. @maddenrichard

liked by 429,390

comments

theyn_ln: I honestly don't know what's happening right now. Please give me space luv ❤️ - yournameupdates: Yes ma'am

thisloveis1989: The way that she saw a future with him and he threw it away. 1 YEAR TOGETHER AND HE THREW IT AWAY?

thismyrealspace9: the album finna hit

theyn_ln: You are not the exception. You will never learn your lesson.

💜 Foolish One and Better Man out MIDNIGHT EST.

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danielricciardo: The songs will be beautiful, but I hope that you're OK. - theyn_ln: Getting there!

taylorynkatyuniverse: FOOLISH ONE HURTS! BETTER MAN HURTS EVEN MORE 😭

icedamericano4: I see the permanent damage you did to me. RICHARD MADDEN YOU ARE PUBLIC ENEMY #1.

Daniel couldn't believe his fucking eyes. It was you.

"Y/N." his eyebrows softened, seeing the familiar posture. "Dan," you turned to look at him - inviting him with a warm embrace. "It's been 5 years since we've last seen each other," you buried your face in his shoulders, inhaling his scent of vanilla and chocolate.

"I thought I lost you for a second," he chuckled, completely forgetting about the drivers that were waiting for him back in the yacht. "Maybe this time you'll finally give me your number," you suggested and a nervous chuckle left his lips. "I'll be honest with you," he began.

"- I totally forgot my phone back at home the first time you asked me." he confessed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and offering it to you. "But I'm not letting you go this time." he smiled.

(2021)

theyn_ln: 7 years overdue, but here she is. My 2nd studio album 'folklore' will be out on September 23. Pre-order is available. You can also order @danielricciardo 's merch while you're at it hehe.

liked by carlossainz55, danielricciardo and 2,192,190 others

comments

danielricciardo: The album is 10000/10 - theyn_ln: glad to have ur opinion

carlossainz55: Are we invited to the listening party? - danielricciardo: Already happened buddy, the invitation must've gotten lost in the mail. 😭

maxverstappen1: 💜

theyn_ln: Officially Mrs. L/N-Ricciardo. 💍

liked by danielricciardo and 3,129,102 likes

comments have been restricted.

danielricciardo: Mr. L/N-Ricciardo is officially my job title.

liked by maxverstappen1 and 1,291,092 others

comments have been restricted.

@lpab07 @ietss @shouq @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan

[hoes4hoseok]

enhypen as the tortured poets department

pairings :: ot7 x gn!reader (if i accidentally slipped in a gender-related mistake please let me know!) genres :: angst & fluff warnings :: swearing, alcohol, mentions of food, sorta emotional cheating, reader being down bad ™️ word count :: 2.1k author’s note :: thanks to ogs @sunoosill and @fandomgirl489 for helping me hehe love you guys! also i kind of tried something new with this one, they're actual little fics this time so let's see how it's recieved 😭 that being said i lowkey hate this. i started doubting all my choices once i was like 60% done but this took an embarrassingly long time. also this is unedited because i'm sick of this draft. i hope y'all enjoy though!

ni-ki as my boy only breaks his favorite toys

“i felt more when we played pretend than with all the kens cause he took my out of my box, stole my tortured heart, left all these broken parts, told me i’m better off, but i’m not”

ni-ki swept 👏 you 👏 off 👏 your 👏 feet 👏 when you first met

because he doesn't seem like he'd necessarily approach a relationship the same way as everyone else just because everyone else is doing it

so when he asked you out he was pretty nonchalant about it (even if that wasn’t how he was feeling)

&& it all felt so romantic because you’d do things like get dessert in the middle of the night & then drive into the hills together 

especially because he didn’t treat you the same way as the other people he dated — a fact his friends confirmed.

he was passive about it all before you.

there wouldn’t be any doubt that he loved you because he most certainly did

not to be cliché but he made you see the world differently! & more importantly, he made you see romantic relationships differently

but you could tell that he had a sense of uncertainty around you

not because he was uncertain about his feelings for you

but an uncertainty that told him that he needed to spend each moment like it could be taken away from him in the blink of an eye

he knew he was feeling too much — he knew you were feeling too much

because ultimately, he was unsure about whether he was right for you.

so he left you, promising that you’d be better off without him.

you weren’t.

sunoo as down bad

“for a moment i knew cosmic love, now i’m down bad, crying at the gym”

sunoo would be such a good boyfriend on paper

he'd buy you flowers & give great hugs, of course, but he'd also be supportive & reassure you when you felt insecure and unsure about your place in the world

that being said, sunoo is not one to string people along

so the moment he realized that he wasn’t 100% in, he made a plan to end things & he did.

&&...losing sunoo fucked you up. it would fuck anyone up, to be fair.

finding out that he was leaving you when the relationship was everything to you would catch you off guard, to say the least.

he probably left feeling proud of himself for doing everything right too LMAO 😭 

&& yes, i don't think it's anything he did that made it so bad

it's just that break-ups suck & you really loved him! even if he “did everything right”

no matter how it transpired, you were still in shambles at the end 

you broke down in tears at the sight of anything that made you think of him

from the smell of gardenias in a grocery store

‘he bought me those 🤧! for our first anniversary 🤧!’

to the most upbeat song you’ve ever heard coming on shuffle while you work out

‘he loved that song’ (even if you couldn’t stand it)

&& you really hoped he was feeling a shred of what you were 

but it sure as hell didn’t seem that way.

jungwon as fresh out the slammer

“all those nights, you kept me going, swirled you into all of my poems”

you & jungwon had a lot of your own problems to deal with the first time you dated

likely because he had a lot on his plate at the time as an idol & you were just at different places in your lives

&& even though your brain was telling you not to, you fell in love fast

he’d taken you to a quiet spot in his hometown that he used to go to when he was overwhelmed as a kid

it was an old swingset at the park where, somehow, everything else had been renovated

the two of you sat there for hours with your hands entwined, talking about your futures 

&& the possibility of them ending in the same place.

it felt childish & implausible, but you wanted to believe it

&&, as the break up proved to you, it was, in fact, childish & implausible to believe that your lives could magically become compatible

you tried to move on, you really did. you dated other people for years. 

one boyfriend stuck around for four years. a coworker. your future with him felt written in stone.

he was good to you, but there was a part of your heart that yearned for more

the part that yearned for the type of connection you had on the swingset all those years ago

you didn't spend that time waiting for jungwon — you accepted that you were going to spend your life content with your boyfriend

but you sometimes thought about what it would be like if you met jungwon under different circumstances or another life where his career wasn’t so controlling and demanding of him

you would smile listening to his music (that you subconsciously hoped was about you) 

&& checked how he was doing online periodically

but then you were single. it was something your boyfriend said about not seeing a future here. not seeing a future with you. when you gave him four years of your life. 

you knew you should have felt more, that you should have been torn apart for months

but a week later, you picked up the phone & dialed the number that had been seared into your brain for six years

“y/n?”

his voice was almost a whisper.

“do you think you could take me to that park again tonight?”

“i’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

“thank you.”

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“i missed you.”

heeseung as the alchemy

“where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me”

when you started dating heeseung, you knew it would be really easy for him to put you low on his priority list being an idol

&& you wouldn’t have blamed him for that 

because your careers are important, especially at this point in your lives (also your exes probably did that with much less demanding jobs)

but he didn’t! he told you it would be tough but that he’d try his best to make sure you had time together even with his insane packed schedule

&& try he did omg 🤭 that man put in the WORK

he would show up towards the end of your workday just to whisk you off on a date 🫶

which you not-so-secretly loved for two reasons:

one: it reminded you that he loved you & valued your career as much as you valued his

two: he’s really hot. so it’s fun to see everyone’s reaction to him showing up heehee

&& after your workday he’d take you wherever you wanted

but you’re indecisive at times, so he’d just guess sometimes.

it was usually your favorite restaurant or a massage parlor, but once he literally took you to the airport for a getaway? who knows what he has planned lmfao

you loved getting surprised by your boyfriend, of course, but the nights when you were at his concert to support him? those meant the world to you.

you swore that you’d never forget the look on his face when he realized you were in the crowd the first time you surprised him

but honestly? his excitement never faltered. he still wears that childish grin every time he sees you showing up for him

&& the post concert kisses are incomparable to all the others 

because he kisses you like you’re the stars in a rom-com. every. damn. time — whether it’s backstage or in front of 20,000 people.

jay as chloe or sam or sophia or marcus

“if you want to break my cold, cold heart, just say ‘i loved you the way that you were’”

jay was hurting you

with every instagram post he uploaded with a woman you didn’t recognize,

at every red carpet appearance where he had someone else on his arm,

with every polite smile he greeted you with when you crossed paths.

you broke up with him. years ago, at that. you had no right to feel this way.

his mind seemed scattered in your time together & he was unsure about most everything

at first, it had seemed like you were the exception to that.

until you weren’t.

when you broke it off, you told him you loved him. & that maybe you always would.

he might have loved you.

but if that was the case, he never told you.

on occasion, you thought about how he felt seeing you date around aimlessly.

had he done the mature thing & moved on?

did his jaw clench seeing another man kiss you the same way it did before you dated?

did he care about what you were thinking as much as you did about him? 

there were times that you’d stare at his contact, finger hovering above the ‘call’ button

almost hoping your finger would slip so you’d have the chance, the smallest chance to hear him say

“i loved you the way that you were.”

(i really want to write a oneshot about this actually? maybe?)

jake as so high school

“get my car door, isn’t that sweet, then pull me to the backseat, no one’s ever had me, not like you”

jake was so obsessed with you before y’all started dating HEHE probably from the first time that he had a conversation with you!

he was so enthralled by the way you think & see the world

&& he blushed and stumbled on his words every time he talked to you for months & his friends would tease him RELENTLESSLY

he got so nervous before following you on social media that he had to employ his friends to help.

“guys, just press it for me. i can’t look!”

he probably thought about asking you out on many occasions but chickened out for one reason or another every time

but then he saw you at the local convenience store while he was out getting ramen at 2 a.m. — or rather, you saw him.

"jake?" he'd know that voice anywhere. oh god oh god oh god oh god

he needed a moment to compose himself, but he pulled himself together enough to look up at you & greet you properly <3

his stress slipped away fairly fast after that & you found yourselves shopping for your respective midnight snacks together

"have you tried this one? it's probably my favorite limited edition flavor" you had said, pointing to your favorite candy

which, naturally, he responded to by pulling a handful into his basket 😚

you didn't know whether he wanted to try it because you liked it or he was buying it for you, but either way, you found it endearing

after you both paid, jake took your groceries in his other hand, declaring that he'd carry them to your car for you

which, of course, wasn't possible. you had walked.

😧...😟...😶...🤔...☝️😲 "i could give you a ride! i don't want you walking home alone at this hour. or i could call you an uber if you're not comf—"

"i'd really like that"

&& then his heart would damn near explode at the sight of your smile. because how could it not.

he fumbled with the bags before opening the passenger door for you

&& on the drive there he'd stare at you with heart eyes while you talked at every red light

you'd have to tell him it turned green because he was just so distracted hehe

oh my god not this being my second fic about jake driving you home,, 🫣 IT'S FUNNY BECAUSE I DON'T PLAN THESE I JUST GO WITH WHAT FEELS RIGHT

i'm just hilarious, this does not show anything about what i want irl, absolutely nothing.

sunghoon as i look in people’s windows

"what if your eyes looked up & met mine one more time?"

you & sunghoon had a mutual break up, but it didn't feel that way a month after it happened

especially not when you were walking alone down the street his friend lived on & noticed the light shining through the large window

contrary to what you told yourself (i don’t even care if he’s in there) you approached the warm light warily

you didn’t really know whether you were hoping to see him in there, but you did — he was laughing with a few people, glass of wine in hand

&&…you weren’t expecting a flood of memories to overcome you in the way they did.

memories from when you were invited. memories from when you called them “our” friends & not “his” friends. memories from when you were the one making him laugh.

you didn’t notice your mouth fall agape or the tears welling in your eyes until sunghoon met your gaze with a tilt of his head, his smile falling as he registered your presence

for a moment, your mind rushed to decipher the look on his face — the way his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, the way his mouth fell agape too — the same expressions you used to be able to read so well.

finally tearing your gaze from sunghoon, you noticed his friends turning back to look out for whatever it was that made their friend so unsettled

they never saw you. you ran before they could.

perhaps if you had stayed a moment longer, you would have heard the front door open.

txt version ☆ midnights version ☆ masterlist

[redpill-tfs]

I need some help. My family is sending me to my ultra-conservative redneck uncle's ranch for the summer and I'm already dreading having to listen to them spew the nonsense they hear on the news.

Do you have anything that could help make this summer a bit more tolerable?

I'd imagine that would be hard, going to spend time with someone you don't see eye to eye with, having to do hard labor in the sun when you're more of a computer guy. Forced to go to church when that's not really your thing. Hearing him talk about the corrupt politicians in Washington and how Trump is going to drain the swamp. I know exactly what will help you feel better about this summer. I put a little something in your packed lunch. Don't worry, I made sure it's vegan. I'd take it now so it can take effect by the time you get to your uncle's place.

It'll take you a little bit to get there in your new Honda, wanting to keep the car in good condition as long as you can. Your single bag in in the backseat. The highway is simple enough and uneventful, but your uncle lives about a mile from a small town, farmland and backroads the only way there. With no real choice in the matter, you leave your parent's driveway.

You turn on your Spotify playlist, getting a pop song from your favorite gay artist. You sing along, your dyed hair swaying as you move your body, thinking about how much of an inspiration they are to you. The highway is strangely quiet for this time of day, but you don't mind the lack of traffic.

The song ends as a country song starts playing next. Must be one of the songs Spotify is recommending you today.You've never really been a fan of country music, finding it all seems to be about girls, trucks and beer, but you can tolerate it for one song. It's surprisingly catchy. Not your usual style of music, but it's not bad.

The lyrics are all about a guy in his worn out pick up truck, his worn out shirt and boots showing him to be a man's man. His calloused hands prove he's a hard worker. He sounds nothing like you, but you can almost relate to him in a strange way. After all, you're wearing your old boots for the drive. And you put on a worn out shirt and jeans too, just like your uncle always wears.

You don't remembering putting the outfit on, or even owning it in the first place, but before you can dwell on it too long the next song starts. It's another country song, this time about growing up in a small town and being a conservative man. It's got a nice beat to it as you tap your fingers against the steering wheel. You're nothing like the guy in the song, but the more you think about it, the more you remember visiting your uncle every summer to stay with him. He taught you the importance of conservative values, How those city slickers like your folks didn't know the meaning of hard work. You discovered your faith in God and he bought you your first Bible before you went back home. The godless liberals just want free handouts and to take your money for themselves.

You scoff at the sissies as yet another song plays. You recognize this song. It's Austin by Dasha. You sure can't relate to this song at all! Your boots are in good shape and your truck never would never break down on you. Sure it might need a new paint job from years of use but it still works as well as the day you got it. A birthday gift from your uncle. You're so glad he agreed to let you stay with him and gave you a job at his gun shop in town.

As you pulled into your uncle's driveway and hopped out of your truck, you knew this was going to be a good summer. And fall, winter, and spring.

[eyelessfaces]

wilting

llewyn davis x reader

summary: llewyn finally has an opportunity for his music career, but it only seems to be driving you apart.

tags: gn!reader, established relationship, angst (we're talking about llewyn), fighting, fluff, fear of abandonment and loneliness

word count: 2.4k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

You'd been expectantly sipping on your drink, an anxious ache dwelling in your chest; you were probably more nervous for Llewyn than he was for himself, if it happened to be anything that could help his career – which you hoped it would be. 

“Think it’s business related?” Jean had asked you like she was reading your mind, an uncertain look on her face as she watched over the pair talking. Llewyn was frantically nodding at the guy, listening intently.

“Hope so,” you had sighed in a hoarse breath, the taste of your drink harsh on your throat. “It'd be good for him.” you affirmed, glancing at the guy that had cornered Llewyn even before he could put his guitar back in its case, wondering for what other reason he would come up to him after his gig if not to offer him a career. 

And the guy happened to be the son of a major player in the music business – that was the way Llewyn put it when he walked back to you and Jean, anyway, so you had been right, and it was finally happening for him.

And it feels amazing to see him like this, at first. He’s so happy about it that he spends his past two weeks savings in a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers and the rather expensive tartan wool scarf you had been fantasizing about each time you walked past the shop window – which wouldn’t be considered much to the average middle class household but is a lot to the two of you struggling to make ends meet.

And while it feels exciting at first, the promise of a new life for him and ultimately for the both of you, weeks pass, and the flowers wilt. Too fast for your liking. The vase holding them at the center of your kitchen table looks way too big for them now that they are dead, dry and sagging, and you feel way too alone in that apartment you share with Llewyn when on the surface, barely anything has changed; only it feels like everything has changed. 

The initial excitement on your side has guiltily faded, letting loneliness and frustration take over as Llewyn slowly but surely lets himself get consumed by work.

He’s composing and writing songs back to back, he’s already working on them when you leave for work and he’s still working on them when you come back from work; it’s almost impossible to tear him out of it too.

A sigh leaves your mouth as your glance falls onto him that evening, determinedly writing down on his messy sheet of paper as you innocently stand in the threshold of your apartment, just hoping to share a moment with him after a long day – for the both of you, probably. It can’t be healthy for him even if he seems so driven by it.

“Hey,” you call, nudging the door shut with your foot. The sound of your voice paired with the click of the door draws Llewyn’s gaze over you for a split second. “Hey,” the ash of the cigarette hanging from his mouth is threatening to fall. 

His attention quickly drifts back to his makeshift working station – the couch and most of the space on your coffee table that is surrounded by sheets of paper all over the floor.

“I picked up takeout on the way back from work,” you declare, holding up the bag that’s in your hand, trying to catch his attention again.

“Nice” he replies absently, his focus now placed on the chord progression he’s playing over and over again to make sure it sounds good. 

“From Hudson Square, your favorite” you add, hoping to draw more than a one word response from him.

“Thank you, babe,” he mutters, barely looking up as he hastily writes something down in his notebook after he puts his guitar away. 

It only gets quieter apart from the sound of his guitar and his low humming as you start eating, sitting on the floor and over the small part of the coffee table that’s not occupied by his mess – it’s a battlefield gathering crumpled notes, cigarette ash and his empty coffee cup that you can guess has been knocked over at some point from the stain on one sheet. You watch him expectantly as you eat your noodles, his own box practically untouched as he keeps on working on his song; how naive of you to hope you could share a moment with him.

“It's gonna get cold” you point out, hoping to coax him into taking a break, your voice resonating with a tinge of frustration Llewyn doesn’t seem to decipher. He hums quietly in acknowledgment, though you’re not so sure he has really listened to what you just said, seemingly utterly absorbed in his work, scribbling on a chaotic sheet of paper.

“Llew what the fuck is that. You need to take a break” you sigh. You feel awful. Not just because he’s ignoring you – mostly because you can’t seem to match your energy and excitement to his. 

The fact that you barely interact anymore takes a toll on you, but you can’t help but feel like there’s something else beyond that – maybe it’s the suddenness of it all, the fact that it all seems too good to be true and that Llewyn probably already starts to believe this is the end of his struggles.

“I have to submit three songs as soon as possible” he says, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray that sits among the mess. His eyes are bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles, you can notice it now.

You frown, equally confused and concerned. “Don't you already have those three songs?”

“I need backup in case it's not working for them” he declares with a shrug, looking through the scattered sheets of paper laid before him.

“You're insane” you chuckle, “This is insane.” you watch him as he doesn’t even look back at you. You’re not sure what to say anymore to get him out of this. “You’re good at this. The songs you already have are gonna be good”

“I need to be sure.” his voice is flat, his response automatic.

You frown, watching him go like nothing exists outside of what he's doing. Act like it is the only thing that matters anymore.

“Do you have any idea how painful it is for me to see you like this?” you snap, an ache inside your chest as you say it.

He truly looks up at you for the first time since you entered your shared apartment, his eyebrows knitting into a small frown.

“Painful? Really?” he scoffs in disbelief. “I finally have something good going on.” 

You sigh. “I know, and it’s great, and I’m happy for you Llewyn” you say trying to keep your voice steady and to say the right thing. “But you’re slowly gonna go crazy”

He laughs, a harsh sound with no hint of real amusement. “No, I was going crazy when I was running around New York all day, every day, trying to make a career.” he retorts bitterly; at least, you have his attention now. “I finally have a reason to keep going, my sacrifices were all for something”

You nod awkwardly. “Yeah, I know, but come on Llewyn, look at you. You’ve barely eaten, you haven’t slept properly in days, and we don’t even talk anymore.” you sigh, your hands letting go of the chopsticks from the takeout you had hoped would make him take a break.

“I’m doing this for us. Don’t you get that?” he asks, his face pleading for your understanding though there’s an obvious hint of reproach in his voice.

“It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’ve lost you to this... fucking obsession.” you say pointing to the mess in front of you, and it all comes out more harshly than you mean it to.

“You know this is important to me.” he affirms, his voice hardening in a defensive way.

“And you’re important to me, so I can’t sit here and watch you destroy yourself!” you retort, your voice cracking with your frustration spilling over. He shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I’m not destroying myself. I’m building something. For us.” he insists, and though you know his intent is genuine, the reality of it feels much different.

“You can’t build something for us if you’re actively ruining us at the same time.”

“Well what do you want me to do? Give up? Go back to playing shitty gigs for pocket change?” he snaps.

You sigh, not knowing what to say, not knowing where to go with it anymore. Your throat contracts with the knot growing inside it, your facade threatening to break.

Maybe calling him out had been a bad idea. Maybe you should have let him dig his hole, or maybe he was right, he was doing fine, and it was all just you feeling too alone and too selfish about it.

“I’m playing tonight” he eventually says in a mumble once things flatten, breaking the tense silence stilling in the air.

“Yeah, I know” you nod, swallowing your feelings. “Take your keys, I'm not going. I'm exhausted”

“Whatever” he mutters, turning back to his work, and your takeout meal suddenly makes you feel sick as you realize just how far apart you’re drifting and how serious it has become.

—

When you’re usually asleep when Llewyn comes back from gigs, the sound of the front door opening and closing interrupts you from overthinking your argument with him a few hours before. 

You turn around in bed – like you’ve done so many times tonight trying to find sleep – hearing the sounds of him moving around the apartment, the familiar thud of his guitar case being set down, the squeak of your worn out couch as he sits down.

It’s not long before you hear his footsteps and he enters the bedroom, your eyes closing in pretend as he stealthily sifts through the room to get ready for bed. The mattress dips slightly under his weight once he slides in bed behind you, and you shift just slightly when you feel the warmth of his body radiating not far from you; it’s enough for him to guess you’re not asleep and to shift closer to you, his arm sliding around your waist, pulling you into him. His lips brush against your shoulder, leaving a faint kiss there. “You’re not sleeping, are you?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. You can clearly hear the tiredness in his voice.

You don’t respond, keeping your eyes closed, but your body betrays you, instinctively relaxing into his embrace. He takes your silence as a yes, pressing you even closer to him.

“‘m sorry” he mumbles against your shoulder, the prickle of his beard teasing your skin. “I know you're upset” you exhale softly, and he continues. “And I know I work too much. But I don't wanna fuck it up” 

You don’t trust yourself to speak, not without your voice cracking, so you just nod slightly, letting him know you’re listening. “I’m taking my chance, that’s all it is dove.” his voice is hoarse from tiredness, slightly muffled against your skin. “I have to try”

Your hand covers his, your thumb mindlessly rubbing his skin. “I miss you” you finally mutter, your voice weak. “I feel like I’m losing you.” you admit, turning around to face him. The lights outside cast shadows over his face, highlighting the signs of exhaustion. “I've always supported you, through anything,” His hand comes to rest against your face, his thumb tracing along your cheek. “So I'm happy you finally have something good going on but I thought it'd feel better for me to see you like this” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I really need this” he says, his voice barely audible too. “You’re not losing me” he insists, his eyes searching yours. “I love you, you know? I love you. I can’t earn a career and lose you. You just have to trust me. I’m trying to make things good for us”

“I know” you blink, eyes heavy and tingling with tiredness. “I just don’t want you getting fucked up in the process”

“You know I’m already fucked up” he scoffs.

You grin. “Yeah, you are” 

Your hand reaches his face when he kisses you, the faint taste of whiskey and cigarette on his tongue as he presses his warm body closer against yours. 

You pull away just slightly, still feeling the brush of his beard against your chin. “Your songs are good. I would know better than anyone else. You don’t need to beat yourself up” 

He gives you a modest smile, or a tired one, you can’t really tell.

—

The lights cast a golden glow over Llewyn’s face, significantly shrinking the wide room, wider than it could ever seem to be just a few months ago. They shoot a warm, intimate ray around him, around the stool he’s perched on, his guitar close to his chest as he leans into the microphone.

You’re standing half hidden in the shadows near the back, arms crossed, watching as his eyes flutter closed once he starts to sing a tune you know all too well, a song you’ve known in its early stages of creation, in its fragmented form. 

Hearing it whole, complete and out to the world, to all those strangers, locates a bittersweet ache deep inside of you, and for a brief second, Llewyn’s now opened eyes meet yours. 

There is no shift, no wavering in his expression, but there is something special in the way his gaze lingers, ever so slightly weakly softening before he looks back down at his guitar. 

You don’t know what he sees when he looks at you. Maybe it’s the person who believed in him before anyone else did. Maybe it’s something, someone entirely different now that things are so different from how they used to be seasons ago.

Tears start to run down your face before you even realize you’re crying. 

You smile through them as Llewyn sings as if he’s baring his soul to his audience, stripping himself off and displaying the vulnerability of his work to the world, being everything you always believed he would end up being, standing in the spot he belongs to. 

His gaze locks with yours once again, and as you feel the sting of the tears you have to blink away, you force a quivering smile, one you hope will carry all the words you will never be able to say.

—

as you can maybe guess, this is an open ending, up to interpretation, that could be seen differently depending on how you choose to look at it!

any and every feedback/reblog/comment is greatly appreciated and keeps authors going!!

llewyn taglist:

@scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry 

@mystinky-butt @anightshift @campingwiththecharmings @dameronshandholder @spider-starry 

@spxctorsslxt @dowbastan @hammerhead96 @unear7hly @Spicydonut25

[bamgyuuuri]

Hi Amia mylove <3 How are you? hope you feeling well.xoxo So I saw you post that we can make a request sooooo here i am... I was listening a taylor swift song (aka Sl*t) and melt at the "In a world of boy he's a gentleman" and I was wondering If you could make a yeonjun or taehyun pov about it. here's a little suggestion <3 The dazzling lights of the Fashion show danced across the venue, casting shimmering reflections off the luxurious fabrics and golden décor. I was there, dressed to impress, trying to soak in the grandeur of it all. Yeonjun/Taehyun was also in the crowd, exuding effortless charm as he mingled and enjoyed the spectacle.

But midway through the show, the weight of everything overwhelmed me, and tears began to blur my vision. Just when I thought I could slip away unnoticed, a gentle yet familiar voice interrupted my spiral.

"Are you okay?" Yeonjun's / Taehyun's warm eyes met mine, his concern genuine.

I nodded, though my shaky breath betrayed me. Instead of walking away, he stayed, his presence grounding me. He didn’t push for answers; he just stayed, silently offering comfort.

Minutes passed, and slowly, my tears subsided. Yeonjun's/Taehyun's, noticing the calm returning to me, gently patted my head with a soft smile. "You're strong," he whispered before disappearing back into the crowd, leaving me with a heart pounding louder than ever. And the rest is all you can think<3 Love your story and the way you ADD the aesthesis pics relatable with the vibe too. Takecare <3 Jia.

⤷ flamingo pink, sunrise boulevard ┈ cyj.

pairings and tags. stranger!yeonjun x fashiondesigner!reader ft. bestfriend!yunjin . strangers to ??? slowburn . mentions of reader being anxious . yeonjun just being the sweetest man ever . yunjin too!! reader has imposter syndrome . meet cute . fond!jun . not 100% proofread!

word count. 10.5k

short note ... JIAAA omg this ask is so wonderful omg thank u so much for sending me this 🙏 your suggestion alone is already so good are you kidding?!?! i got carried away again help i’m so sorry it took so long T_T still, i hope you like it <3

the world of high fashion had always been more than a dream; it was an obsession. 

growing up, you’d fill every scrap of paper you could find with sketches of flowing gowns, structured suits, and intricate details that you imagined would one day captivate an audience. while other kids talked about their favorite celebrities, you admired designers, memorizing the way their collections evolved over the seasons.

you’d sit for hours in front of a tiny screen, watching grainy videos of runway shows, completely mesmerized. the way the fabric moved under the lights, how each design told a story, and the applause that followed—it all felt like magic. you dreamed of the day your creations would make it to those very runways, carried with grace by the world’s finest models.

but as you grew older, reality set in. 

talent alone wasn’t enough. you needed money to attend the right schools, connections to open the right doors, and the kind of opportunities that didn’t just fall into anyone’s lap. no matter how much you poured your heart into your work, the glittering world of high fashion remained frustratingly out of reach.

still, you didn’t stop creating. despite the constant reminder that you didn’t have the right pedigree or the right financial backing, you kept sketching. your tiny apartment became a refuge, the four walls an oasis where your imagination was free to roam without limitations. 

the clutter of fabric swatches, sketchbooks, and sewing supplies was a sign of your dedication, even if no one else saw it. it was in that small space, away from the world’s judgment, that your designs took shape. here, you were free to imagine worlds, to dream up creations that could make people feel something, even if those dreams never materialized into anything more than the pages of your sketchbook.

it was one of those quiet afternoons, the kind where the golden light of the sun filtered lazily through your windows, casting long shadows across your desk. you sat hunched over your sketchbook, pencil in hand, lost in the flow of your thoughts as you worked on your latest design.

but then, just as the idea you were sketching started to come to life, a sharp knock broke through your concentration. you paused, glancing toward the door with a furrowed brow. it was unusual to get visitors, especially during the middle of the day.

at first, you thought it was just a neighbor—maybe someone needing to borrow something or asking for a quick favor. you returned to your sketchbook, dismissing it as nothing more than a small interruption. but then, a second knock came, this time even louder, more insistent. your head snapped up, and you could hear the unmistakable sound of a voice calling your name, bright and full of energy.

"open up! it’s me!!" it was yunjin, her voice unmistakable and full of excitement, as though she had just walked in on the biggest surprise. the sound of her knocking grew more playful—she was determined to get your attention no matter what.

you sighed, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. you hadn’t expected a visit, but yunjin was the kind of person who could show up unannounced and immediately make everything feel lighter, even if you hadn’t been in the mood for company. shaking your head affectionately, you pushed your chair back and stood up.

when you opened the door, yunjin stood there, a whirlwind of energy and excitement. she had a bag of snacks in one hand, her phone and handbag on the other, and an expression that was equal parts mischief and joy.

"finally!" yunjin exclaimed, bursting through the door before you even had a chance to greet her. “i was starting to think you’d locked yourself away for good, like some kind of mysterious artist living off nothing but coffee and existential dread. tell me you’ve eaten something today.”

you raised an eyebrow, rolling your eyes as a laugh bubbled up. "hello to you too, yunjin. and yes, i’ve eaten. thanks for asking, mother."

“oh, sure you have,” she said with a dramatic eye-roll, tossing a bag of snacks onto your counter with the flair of someone who had just conquered a great battle. "because the last time i visited, you were living off instant noodles and the sheer willpower of your creativity."

you crossed your arms, feigning offense. “hey, instant noodles are versatile!”

“sure they are,” she replied, not missing a beat as she rummaged through the bag like a woman on a mission. “well, lucky for you, i brought real food. pastries, chips, and—wait for it—fancy chocolates from my trip last week! you’re welcome.”

you laughed, shaking your head as you closed the door behind her, watching her make herself right at home. yunjin had always been like this—chaotic, energetic, and somehow always knowing when you needed a little bit of sunshine in your day.

“so, what’s the occasion?” you asked, leaning against the counter with a raised brow as she went about unpacking her treasure trove of snacks.

"what, can’t a girl visit her bestfriend without an ulterior motive?" she said, batting her lashes and feigning innocence in the most exaggerated way possible. "besides, what more could you possibly need?"

“well, maybe a chance to finally finish my sketches without being interrupted by you and your endless energy?” you teased, but the smile on your face betrayed you.

“impossible,” she replied with a dramatic gasp. "i bring joy, creativity, and snacks—not interruptions."

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “not when that best friend is currently occupied and you’re… you know, you.”

she gasped again, clutching her hand to her chest. “wow, the disrespect,” she said, feigning hurt. “but fine, if you must know, i do have a reason for being here.”

“i knew it,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but lean in, genuinely curious. “what is it?”

yunjin paused dramatically, glancing over her shoulder as though deciding how to reveal the greatest secret she’d ever had. her eyes gleamed mischievously, and she drew in a deep, theatrical breath, making sure to keep you hanging on every second. “you know how we talked about that crazy, exclusive fashion show happening next week?”

you nodded slowly, your mind already running through the possibilities. of course you knew about it—how could you not?

everyone in the fashion world had heard whispers about the event, the kind of event where designers showed off their best collections, where the elite mingled in their designer clothes. you’d followed every piece of news you could, dreaming of one day being part of something like that. “yeah, i remember. sounds… well, incredibly out of reach, but i do look forward to seeing snippets of the show online.”

she raised an eyebrow, her gaze filled with a spark you knew so well. "you think so?" she asked, her tone lighter, teasing. "well, i might have... something that could change your mind about that."

you tilted your head, your curiosity immediately piqued. “what are you talking about?”

yunjin didn’t answer right away. instead, she began rummaging through her bag, her hands diving in and out of the various pockets with exaggerated slowness. you watched, your breath catching in your throat, as her movements became more deliberate, each second of suspense building higher. her grin stretched wider as if she was savoring every moment.

you raised an eyebrow, amused, but also growing impatient. "seriously, just show me already."

she finally seemed to have found what she was ‘looking’ for, her fingers brushing against the envelope you hadn’t noticed earlier. your gaze locked onto it as she slowly pulled it out, the sleek, pristine exterior catching the light as if it were glowing in her hands. her expression was unreadable now—calm, composed, as though she was holding something sacred.

“this,” yunjin says, drawing out the moment to an excruciatingly slow pause, “is your ticket to one of the most exclusive fashion shows of the year.” her grin returned in full force, her excitement palpable, though she made no attempt to rush you. she just let the silence build as you tried to process what she was saying.

you blinked rapidly, unable to wrap your mind around it. "wait, are you—" you started to ask, but the words caught in your throat.

“oh, yes,” yunjin said, cutting you off with a wink, “a friend of mine owed me a big favor, and the first person i thought of when the opportunity came up was you, so..” she added, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper, “you’re going.”

your heart stopped. you stared at the envelope, disbelief swirling inside you. this couldn’t be real. “no way,” you whispered, your voice shaking slightly. “are you serious?”

yunjin’s grin only grew wider as she held the envelope out toward you, her excitement now matching yours, if not surpassing it. “absolutely serious. next week. front and center, you’re going!”

you glanced at the envelope, your fingers suddenly feeling too cold to touch it. everything you had dreamed of seemed so much more intimidating now that it was right in front of you. the thought of standing among the glamorous people at the show, of being seen, made your stomach churn.

you gulped as you finally found the courage to speak. “but what if... what if i don’t belong there? what if i embarrass myself? i’m not.. i’m not even sure i’ll fit in. i don’t even know what to wear—what if i’m not dressed properly for something so important?”

yunjin’s expression softened as she noticed the self-doubt clouding your tone. gently, she cupped your face with her hands, guiding you to meet her eyes. “hey,” she said, her voice calm yet full of conviction, “listen to me. you are more than enough to be in that world. more than enough. you’ve got the talent, the passion, the drive… everything it takes. don’t let anything trick you into thinking otherwise.”

her thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, her touch tender yet firm, as if to emphasize every word. “you’ve worked so hard for this, and you’ve earned it…! the world’s ready for you. you just need to believe it too.”

you tried to process her words, but the nagging voice of doubt still lingered in your mind. sensing your hesitation, yunjin’s smile softened even more. “if you’re worried about the outfit, you don’t need to stress about that either. i’ve got your back. i’ll help you pick something that not only fits perfectly, but makes you feel just as confident and amazing as you truly are, okay? you’ve got this, i promise.”

you blinked, the weight on your chest starting to lift just a little, replaced by a sense of warmth. her belief in you was like a steady anchor, grounding you, soothing the swirl of anxiety that had taken over your thoughts.

“thank you, yunjin,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as a lump formed in your throat. “i... i’m more than thankful.. i owe you a lot...”

yunjin’s smile returned, this time brighter and filled with warmth. she reached out and ruffled your hair playfully. “you don’t have to worry about that. i’ve got you, always. now, let’s get you ready to own this moment, yeah? we've got lots to do!”

with her confidence bolstering yours, you could feel a flicker of excitement slowly replacing the doubt. yunjin’s belief in you was more than just comforting—it was empowering. for the first time in a long while, you let yourself imagine that maybe, just maybe, this dream could be real. ꒰🍦꒱

the next few days blurred into an endless cycle of preparation. sketches, plans, and ideas occupied your waking hours, but amidst all of it, yunjin remained your anchor—a constant source of energy and reassurance. when she declared it was finally time to shop for the perfect outfit, you knew you were in for an adventure.

“i’ve cleared my whole day for this,” yunjin announced the moment you stepped into her car. she was wearing her usual bold confidence like a second skin, her oversized sunglasses perched atop her head. “today is all about you, and i won’t rest until we’ve found the one.”

“the one?” you echoed, buckling your seatbelt. “sounds like you’re taking me wedding dress shopping or something.”

“same thing, babe,” she quipped, tossing you a grin. “except instead of walking down the aisle, you’ll be strutting into a room full of people who need to know how incredible you are.”

her words settled in your chest, warm and reassuring, but before you could respond, she floored the accelerator. yunjin didn’t just drive; she commanded the road, weaving through traffic with a confidence that matched her personality.

the first store she dragged you into was as intimidating as you’d feared—marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and racks of clothing that screamed “luxury.” the air even smelled expensive, a faint mix of bergamot and something floral. yunjin took one glance around and immediately zeroed in on a display of sequined dresses.

“you know,” you mused as you glanced around, “this place has incredible tailoring. look at that dart placement on that jacket—it’s genius.”

yunjin rolled her eyes fondly. “of course you’d notice the stitching before the silhouette. come on, focus. we’re not here to critique; we’re here to conquer.”

she dragged you toward a rack of outfits, pulling out pieces with the fervor of someone on a treasure hunt. “this,” yunjin then declared, plucking a vibrant emerald-green gown from the rack and holding it against you. “imagine walking into the show in this. jaws would drop.”

you raised an eyebrow, eyeing the dress skeptically. “jaws would drop because they’d think i’m trying to blind them.”

yunjin rolled her eyes, thrusting the dress into your arms. “try it on. trust me, you’ll look like a goddess.”

you sighed but complied, disappearing into the fitting room. when you emerged, yunjin gasped dramatically, her hands flying to her mouth. “oh my god. you’re stunning!”

“i look like a disco ball."

“a chic disco ball,” she corrected, circling you like a fashion critic. “but okay, maybe this isn’t the one. next!”

the shopping spree continued in a similar fashion—yunjin pulling outrageous outfits, you reluctantly trying them on, and both of you dissolving into laughter more often than not. at one point, she handed you a pair of neon yellow boots and insisted they were “the future of fashion.”

“yunjin, these look like construction worker boots dipped in highlighter,” you said, holding them up as though they might bite.

“and that’s why they’re iconic!” she shot back, her grin wide. “come on, just try them on. i need to see how they look with those pants you’re wearing.”

you groaned but slipped them on anyway. when you stepped out of the fitting room, yunjin burst out laughing so hard she nearly doubled over, clutching her stomach. “oh my god,” she wheezed, “you look like a high-fashion traffic cone.”

“you’re the one who told me to try them!” you shot back, kicking one foot out in mock frustration. “this is your fault.”

she wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing. “okay, okay, i admit it. maybe those were a bit... much.” then, her expression softened, and she stepped closer, fixing the hem of your sweater. “but seriously, you’re making everything look good. even those boots. you’re incredible.”

her sudden sincerity caught you off guard, and you felt a small, embarrassed smile tug at your lips. “you’re only saying that because i’m letting you drag me around like a dress-up doll.”

“nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “i mean it. you’re going to own that fashion show. they won’t know what hit them.”

with her words buoying you, you followed her through store after store, trying on an endless array of dresses, suits, shoes, and accessories. yunjin’s playful critiques kept you laughing the whole time.

“too sparkly. you’re not auditioning for a pop group,” she said of one dress.

“too boring. you’re not a corporate intern,” she dismissed another.

“now this—” she held up a dramatic cape-like jacket, “this says, ‘i am the moment.’”

“this says, ‘i’m about to take flight,’” you countered, shaking your head.

but amidst all the jokes and theatrics, there were moments where yunjin’s care for you shone through. when you hesitated to try on a fitted dress, worrying it might not suit you, she gently nudged you forward. “just try it,” she said, her voice soft but insistent. “you’ll see what i see.”

and when you emerged wearing the dress, her reaction wasn’t over-the-top or playful this time. she simply smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made your chest tighten. “you’re beautiful,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “you belong there just right.”

you stared at her, momentarily at a loss for words. “thank you,” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“don’t thank me,” she said, squeezing your hand. “just believe it.”

as the day wore on, the two of you eventually found the outfit—a sleek black dress with intricate detailing that was both elegant and bold. when you tried it on, you knew immediately it was the one.

yunjin clapped her hands together, beaming. “there it is! you’re going to look so good in this. it’s perfect.”

“you really think so?” you asked, turning to check the mirror for the hundredth time.

“no, i know so,” she said, her confidence unwavering. “and when you walk into that show, every single person in that room is going to see what i’ve seen all along—that you’re amazing.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “you’re too much sometimes, you know that?”

“and you love me for it,” she shot back, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “now let’s get out of here before i bankrupt us both.”

as you left the store, bags in hand, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, a little braver. with yunjin by your side, the once-daunting prospect of the fashion show now felt... exciting. and as she launched into a story about some guy who’d cut her off in traffic earlier, you realized how lucky you were to have her by your side. ꒰🍦꒱

before you knew it, the day of the fashion show had arrived. the morning sun streamed through your apartment windows, casting a golden glow on the carefully chosen outfit hanging nearby—a testament to days of preparation, laughter, and yunjin’s unyielding faith in you.

though she couldn’t physically accompany you, her words of encouragement replayed in your head, steadying your nerves like a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“you’re going to kill it,” she’d said, her tone carrying a conviction that felt foreign to your own heart. “every single person in that room will wish they were as talented as you. just remember that.”

you replayed her words in your head like a mantra as you stepped out of the taxi, but the sight that greeted you made your stomach drop.

the venue was alive with energy, a level of grandeur you hadn’t quite prepared yourself for. flashing lights from paparazzi cameras created a chaotic strobe effect, casting fleeting shadows on the impeccably dressed crowd. there were celebrities you vaguely recognized, important figures with an air of effortless elegance, and designers moving with a sense of purpose that made your every hesitant step feel painfully out of place.

your chest tightened as you clutched the sleek envelope in your hand, the weight of it suddenly unbearable. “okay,” you whispered to yourself, taking a shaky breath. “you can do this. yunjin believes in you, so… you believe in you too.”

but your pep talk was cut short when someone brushed past you, their shoulder colliding with yours hard enough to make you stumble.

“sorry,” you mumbled instinctively, though the person didn’t so much as glance in your direction, their focus elsewhere.

your cheeks burned, even though no one else seemed to notice the exchange. pulling your bag closer to your side, you attempted to regroup, scanning the crowd for any indication of where you were supposed to go.

but there were no clear signs, no friendly staff member waving you toward an entrance. just a thrumming mass of glamour and purpose, every single person moving with an ease you envied.

you hesitated at the base of the grand staircase leading to the main doors, uncertainty rooting you in place. should you just walk in? was there someone you needed to check in with first?

gathering what little courage you had left, you decided to follow a group of attendees who were flashing similar envelopes to yours at a security guard near the entrance. their polished confidence made you feel like a lost child in comparison, but you forced yourself to mimic their movements.

“invitation?” the guard asked when you approached, his tone curt but professional.

you fumbled with the envelope, nearly dropping it in your haste to hand it over. “here—sorry—here you go,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

the guard scanned it with a practiced efficiency before nodding. “straight ahead, through the main doors,” he instructed, already turning his attention to the next person in line.

you murmured a quiet “thank you” and stepped inside, only to be immediately overwhelmed by the sheer opulence of the space.

the venue was breathtaking, a gilded labyrinth of elegance and extravagance. golden chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, their soft glow casting a warm light over the sea of attendees. the hum of conversation filled the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

your earlier nerves returned with a vengeance as you tried to navigate the room, clutching your bag like a lifeline. every step felt tentative, as though you were walking on eggshells, terrified of drawing attention to yourself.

you scanned the crowd for any indication of where you were supposed to go, your eyes landing on a table near the back where a few attendees were collecting what looked like name cards. relief flooded you as you headed in that direction, only to falter when you realized there was a long line.

“of course,” you muttered under your breath, taking your place at the end of the queue.

when it was finally your turn, you stepped up to the table, your anxiety flaring under the attendant’s sharp gaze.

“name?” she asked briskly, her tone clipped but not unkind.

you stammered out your name, feeling your cheeks flush as she flipped through the cards with an almost agonizing slowness. each passing second stretched longer, the weight of her silence pressing down on your chest.

finally, she found your card and handed it to you with a curt nod. “row c, seat 13,” she said before turning her attention to the next person in line.

you stared at the card in your hand, a mix of relief and dread coursing through you. “row c,” you murmured to yourself, your voice barely audible over the din of the crowd.

now came the next challenge: finding it.

the seating area was a maze of rows and sections, each one more crowded than the last. you wove through the throng of attendees, muttering soft apologies as you accidentally bumped into shoulders and bags. every misstep felt amplified, your nerves magnifying the smallest of stumbles.

“excuse me,” you said softly, trying to squeeze past a particularly dense group of people. when they didn’t move, you tried again, louder this time, only to be met with indifferent glances.

your frustration bubbled just beneath the surface, but you swallowed it down, determined not to let it show. instead, you approached a staff member stationed near the aisle. “hi, um, can you point me to row c?” you asked, your voice laced with desperation.

the staff member gestured vaguely to the left. “over there, by the center aisle.”

you nodded your thanks and hurried in the indicated direction, only to find yourself once again weaving through clusters of people. your pulse quickened as you scanned the rows, your eyes darting between the seat numbers and the impatient glances of those around you.

just when you were about to lose hope, you finally spotted your seat. never have you ever felt this glad to see the number 13 in your life. a wave of relief washed over you as you sank into the plush chair, clutching your bag to your chest like a shield.

your heart was still racing, but for the first time since arriving, you allowed yourself to take a deep breath. you’d made it. barely, but you’d made it.

as you adjusted your posture, trying to appear more composed than you felt, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered, maybe you do belong here after all.

you now watch as the venue slowly fills up with people, the hum of conversation around you growing louder and more animated with each passing moment. the seats beside you begin to fill as well, the air charged with an excitement you’re not entirely sure you can match.

your hands grip the edge of your seat as you try to steady your breathing. it should be comforting to see others settling in, but instead, it only makes your chest tighten. the reality of the moment is starting to sink in: you’re here. the event is real. and soon, you’ll be sitting through a show filled with people who belong to this world, while you’re still wondering if you truly do, too.

your thoughts spiral, every worst-case scenario playing out in your mind. what if someone talks to you? what if you say something wrong? what if you trip on your way out?

“okay, stop,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head as though you can physically dislodge the anxiety from your mind. you take a deep breath, willing the oxygen to calm your racing heart. “you’re fine. you’re fine. it’s just another room of people, that’s all.”

but just as you’re beginning to regain some semblance of control, your nerves decide to betray you in the most inconvenient way possible.

you feel the telltale pressure building, and your stomach drops. of course the anxiety wasn’t enough—now you have to pee.

you glance around the venue, trying to locate the restrooms without looking too obvious about it. but the thought of weaving through the growing crowd again makes you want to crawl under your seat and hide.

“great timing,” you mutter sarcastically, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “just perfect.”

you sit there, locked in an internal battle that’s as ridiculous as it is frustrating. your mind races through every possible consequence of leaving your seat. what if i lose my spot? what if someone takes it? what if i come back and look completely out of place? but none of those worries are quite as pressing as the growing discomfort making it increasingly hard to sit still.

you cross and uncross your legs, trying to buy yourself a little more time, but it’s no use. the urge is only getting stronger, and you know you can’t wait until after the show.

“ugh, fine,” you groan under your breath, earning a curious glance from the person sitting two seats away. you shoot them an apologetic smile before rising reluctantly to your feet. “just my luck,” you mutter to yourself as you gather your courage and step into the growing tide of people.

navigating through the crowd feels like threading a needle—while blindfolded. you weave your way through clusters of people, murmuring “excuse me” after “sorry,” but your politeness doesn’t seem to be contagious.

a sharp elbow clips your shoulder, and a tall man doesn’t even glance back as he strides past. “oh, sure, it’s not like i’m here or anything,” you grumble under your breath, rubbing the spot.

as you inch closer to the hallway that leads to the restrooms, a pair of women standing in the middle of the walkway are too engrossed in their conversation to notice they’re blocking the path. you hesitate for a moment, then clear your throat gently.

“um, excuse me,” you say, trying to sound as polite as possible.

they both glance at you with identical raised eyebrows, as though you’ve just interrupted a royal decree. one of them steps aside with a huff, the other muttering something you can’t quite catch—but it doesn’t sound kind.

“thank you so much,” you say with a tight smile, though your tone drips with sarcasm. they don’t respond, already turning back to their conversation as if you don’t exist.

you sigh, pushing forward and silently willing yourself to get through this without any further incidents. but as you turn the corner, another hurdle awaits—a woman balancing a cup of coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other. she’s standing directly in front of the sign pointing to the restrooms, completely oblivious to the fact that she’s blocking the way.

“excuse me,” you try again, louder this time.

she glances up, frowns, and moves just enough for you to squeeze by, muttering something about “people in a hurry.”

“yeah, sorry for having basic human needs,” you mutter under your breath as you finally spot the restroom door like it’s a beacon of hope in a stormy sea.

the second you finally finish your business, you feel the sudden relief of having taken care of that problem. you take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart. but as you wash your hands, the booming sound of music filters through the walls. the show is starting. right now.

you glance nervously at the mirror, quickly dabbing at your face to fix any stray smudges of makeup. with shaky hands, you apply a final coat of lipstick, then press your palms against the countertop to steady yourself.

okay, okay, you’ve got this. the show’s starting, but you’re still here, still in it. still feeling a strange sense of excitement that makes your heart race even faster. the overwhelming mix of anticipation and nerves makes you feel lightheaded, like you could burst into action any moment.

with a deep breath, you push the door open and make a beeline for the hallway, your steps quickening as you feel the pressure of time.

but as you reach the end of the hallway, you freeze.

the venue was already packed.

no way.

the moment you step back into the main room, it’s like hitting a brick wall of bodies. people are everywhere—standing in groups, chatting animatedly, glancing at their phones, adjusting outfits, and striding toward their seats. you try to push through, but it’s like swimming upstream.

the sea of people presses in from all sides, making every step feel like a struggle. you try to sidestep a couple who are blocking the narrow path ahead, but they’re moving in tandem, oblivious to your presence. perfect.

your anxiety was beginning to creep back up again. i’m never going to get back to my seat at this rate.

you glance over at the packed rows, scanning for your spot, but there’s no way to tell where you’re supposed to go. your seat is just another tiny speck in the ocean of people.

you start moving in the direction of the seats, but it’s like trying to navigate through a dense fog. the buzz of chatter and the low hum of the music overwhelm your senses, making it even harder to focus. you have to keep reminding yourself that you’re actually here, that you’ve worked so hard to get to this point, but the sheer chaos around you makes it feel like you’re suffocating.

why is this so difficult? you think, frustration starting to bubble up. i should be enjoying this, right?

every time you think you’re getting closer to an opening in the crowd, someone else steps in front of you, forcing you to backtrack or dodge around them. this isn’t happening right now, is it?

as you tried to push through the crowd again, your determination was slipping with each passing second. you could feel the panic rising in your chest, and despite all the preparation, despite all the effort yunjin had put into getting you here, you felt utterly lost. 

this was supposed to be the moment. you thought, but the weight of the situation was crushing you, and even yunjin’s encouraging words were starting to feel distant, like they didn’t belong in this overwhelming mess of people and lights.

you tried to steady yourself, but the crowd was relentless. and then, without warning, your heel caught on someone’s foot, and you were falling, knees slamming against the hard floor with a painful jolt.

you barely had time to register the fall before the sound of laughter from nearby voices filled your ears. you quickly glanced up, hoping for some sign of help, but no one made a move to assist you. the people around you seemed too preoccupied with their own lives to even notice you struggling.

a lump formed in your throat as you slowly pushed yourself up, hands shaking as you planted them on the floor to lift yourself back to your feet. each movement felt like a struggle, like everything was working against you. your breathing was shallow, your heart racing in your chest.

you stood there for a moment, hands gripping the edge of the nearest chair, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts spinning through your mind. you could hear the music in the distance, the thumping bass marking the beginning of the show.

it’s starting. it’s really starting.

but all the excitement you’d felt earlier evaporated into a thick fog of frustration and helplessness. the models were already walking down the runway, the crowd shifting in their place to watch, but all you could do was stand there, neck craned, doing your best to balance on your toes, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of anything, but it was impossible. the people in front of you were taller, wider, blocking every possible view.

your shoulders slumped as the tears threatened to spill over. this was it. all this preparation, all the effort... for nothing.

your breath hitched as you felt the tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. this was the moment where everything seemed to fall apart. you couldn’t see, you couldn’t even get to your seat, and you were starting to feel like an imposter in the midst of all these people who belonged.  a shaky exhale escaped your lips as you glanced around, searching desperately for something—anything—to hold onto. but all you saw were backs turned to you, figures moving seamlessly, like they were all part of a rhythm you couldn’t quite catch. the room felt like it was swallowing you whole, and the tears blurred your vision, making the dazzling lights above seem like distant stars. you bit the inside of your cheek, a futile attempt to pull yourself together, but even that wasn’t enough. the weight of it all was crashing down, and for a moment, you thought you might drown in it.

but before you could spiral any further into your self-doubt, a gentle but firm hand suddenly landed on your shoulder, making you freeze in your tracks. the touch was unexpected, like an anchor that yanked you out of the chaotic whirlwind of your thoughts, pulling you back from the brink of complete panic. your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything else disappeared—the crowd, the overwhelming noise, the pulsating lights of the venue. it was just that hand, warm and steady against your skin, grounding you in a way that felt both foreign and comforting all at once.

you turned, startled, and found yourself looking up into a pair of dark eyes, calm and steady, as though they could see right through the chaos in your head. there was something in the way he looked at you that made everything, just for a second, seem less daunting.

“hey,” he said, his voice low and reassuring, “you alright?”

you blinked up at him, unable to speak at first. the confusion, the stress, your glossy eyes, the overwhelming feeling of being out of place all mingled together, but his calm presence was like a lifeline.

he offered you a small, comforting smile. “you look like you could use a hand.”

you swallowed hard, still trying to calm the rapid thud of your heart, but the tightness in your chest refused to loosen. the noise around you felt deafening now, and you could feel the familiar sting of tears threatening to spill. you blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but the room was spinning, the air suffocating.

“i—i’m sorry,” you stuttered, your voice shaky as you attempted to explain, the words tumbling out in a rush. “i’m... i’m lost. i can’t... i can’t find my seat, and i don’t know how to—i... i’m not supposed to be here. i-i can’t see anything, and everything’s so crowded, and i just—” you stopped, the words sticking in your throat, feeling hopelessly tangled. your hands trembled at your sides, and your breath hitched in your chest.

a concerned look immediately fell upon the man’s face, his brows furrowing as he watched you struggle to steady yourself. without hesitation, he reached forward, gently taking your trembling hands in his own. the warmth of his palms against yours was grounding, and he brought your hands together, holding them securely in his grasp.

“hey, hey,” he said softly, his voice steady and low, “it’s okay. just breathe for me, alright? just one deep breath. in through your nose, out through your mouth.”

his thumbs brushed lightly over the backs of your hands as if to anchor you further, his touch firm yet reassuring. “it’s alright,” he continued, his tone calm and measured, “you’re okay. i’ve got you. take it one breath at a time.”

you hesitated, your chest still tight, but his steady presence made it easier to focus on his words. closing your eyes briefly, you forced yourself to follow his instructions. a deep inhale through your nose, then a slow, shaky exhale through your mouth.

“there you go,” he encouraged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “one more for me. just like that. in... and out.”

you repeated the process, your breaths gradually evening out. the storm of panic that had consumed you began to ebb, leaving behind a fragile sense of clarity.

“that’s it,” he said softly, his hands still holding yours. “you’re doing great.”

you opened your eyes, the sting of tears still present but no longer overwhelming. his gaze met yours, steady and full of kindness, and for the first time that night, you felt like you weren’t entirely alone.

the man offered you yet another one of his gentle smiles before his free hand disappeared into his pocket. he pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief, holding it out for you to take, the motion so natural and considerate that it caught you off guard.

“here,” he said softly, as though he knew you were on the verge of refusing. “it’s clean, don’t worry.”

you sniffled, hesitating for a moment, but the kind look in his eyes left you no choice but to accept. “thank you,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you took the handkerchief.

it felt soft and well-cared-for, and you pressed it gently against your cheeks, wiping away the tears that clung stubbornly to your skin. as your vision cleared, you instinctively looked up to return the handkerchief, but then...

oh.

your breath caught in your throat as you got a proper look at him for the first time.

he was... wow.

the kind of breathtaking you’d read about in novels or seen in perfectly lit photoshoots. his features were sharp and refined, yet there was something warm and approachable about the way he carried himself. his dark eyes held an undeniable depth, a mix of intensity and softness that made it hard to look away. his hair framed his face effortlessly, and the hint of a grin playing on his lips seemed almost out of place with how gentle he’d been just moments ago.

as if sensing your flusteredness, the man let out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and surprisingly soothing. his head tilted slightly, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he nodded in understanding. "it’s okay," he said gently, his voice carrying an unspoken reassurance that he wasn’t judging you. "just making sure you’re really alright."

you managed a small smile, your heart still beating a little too quickly—not just from the chaos of moments ago, but now from the way he was looking at you, like you were someone worth paying attention to.

just then, the commentator’s voice echoed through the venue, announcing the next set of pieces about to grace the runway. the subtle shift in the atmosphere reminded you where you were, though it didn’t stop your stomach from flipping nervously all over again.

“looks like we don’t have much time,” the man said, his gaze flicking toward the direction of the commentator’s voice before returning to you. without hesitation, he extended his hand, palm up, his fingers slightly curled in invitation. “come on. let’s get you somewhere with a better view.”

you stared at his hand, your breath hitching slightly as hesitation crept in. could you really trust him? this stranger who had been kind to you when no one else even noticed? your fingers twitched at your sides, uncertainty coiling in your chest. what if this was some elaborate prank? or worse, what if you embarrassed yourself even more by blindly following someone you didn’t know?

but then you looked up, meeting his gaze again. his eyes were steady, unyielding yet soft, as if silently telling you that it was okay. there was no rush, no pressure—just the quiet reassurance of someone willing to help.

with a deep breath, you slowly reached out, your hand brushing against his before you fully placed it in his. his grip was firm but careful, his warmth grounding you instantly.

“there we go,” he said, his lips curving into a gentle smile, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. “trust me, you won’t regret it.”

꒰🍦꒱

as he led you through the crowd, weaving effortlessly between clusters of people, you couldn’t help but cast a skeptical glance around. the farther you went, the more unfamiliar the path seemed, and unease began to bubble in your chest.

“uh, where exactly are we going?” you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty as you noticed the thinning crowd around you. the lights grew dimmer, and the sounds of chatter and camera flashes faded into the background.

he glanced back at you, his smile still intact but now carrying a hint of mischief. “someplace better.”

“better?” you echoed, eyebrows furrowing as you looked around the increasingly exclusive-looking hallway. “this... doesn’t look like a public area.”

he chuckled lightly at your tone, the sound rich and melodic. “just trust me,” he said again, his grip on your hand steady as he led you past a velvet rope that you were almost certain regular attendees weren’t allowed to cross.

“this is off-limits, isn’t it?” you pressed, your voice dropping to a whisper as your eyes darted around, half-expecting someone to stop you. “are we going to get in trouble?”

“relax,” he said, his tone reassuring but laced with amusement. “you’re with me.”

“and who exactly are you?” you muttered under your breath, half to yourself, but he must’ve heard because he chuckled again, this time more quietly, as though enjoying your skepticism.

finally, after navigating a winding staircase and passing through an unassuming doorway, he stepped aside and gestured for you to step forward. you hesitated, peering inside, but the sight that greeted you left you momentarily speechless.

the balcony lounge stretched out before you, a space elevated high above the main floor. plush seating and dim lighting exuded exclusivity, while the glass barrier at the edge provided a breathtaking view of the entire venue.

“wow,” you breathed out, unable to stop the word from tumbling out as you stepped closer to the glass barrier. the view was breathtaking—perfect in every sense. from here, you could see the entire venue laid out like a grand tapestry. the runway stretched out in a seamless line, illuminated by artful lights that bathed it in a radiant glow. models moved gracefully, their outfits shimmering like living art, and the audience’s reactions created a living pulse that filled the space.

your fingers lightly brushed against the cool glass as you leaned closer, your wide eyes drinking in every detail. “this is... unbelievable. it’s perfect,” you murmured, almost to yourself, as though afraid the words would break the magic of the moment.

behind you, the man watched, his grin growing. he leaned his elbows on the railing, his posture casual, but his gaze was anything but. he seemed entirely captivated—not by the view of the runway, but by you.

his amusement deepened as you watches you press a hand over your heart, still marveling at the scene below. the way you took it all in, so openly and earnestly, made him forget, for a fleeting moment, where you even were.

he let his gaze linger—on the way the soft lighting kissed your features, the faint remnants of tears you’d wiped away earlier adding a delicate vulnerability to your expression. he found himself studying the small details: the curve of your lips as you whispered to yourself, the way your fingers traced the glass as though committing the view to memory.

but then you turned abruptly, catching him mid-thought. your eyes, still wide with wonder, locked with his. his breath hitched slightly, but he masked it with a sheepish chuckle, pushing himself off the railing.

“you still didn’t answer my question,” you said, tilting your head slightly. there was a curious sharpness to your tone, but it was softened by the lingering gratitude in your gaze. "who are you?"

his grin returned, wider this time, his earlier moment of surprise replaced by easy charm. “ah, you caught me,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “my name's... yeonjun.”

he extended a hand towards you once more, his movements fluid and confident. “and you are?”

you nodded slightly in acknowledgment, offering your name as your hand met his, your voice steady but carrying a thread of bashfulness. his fingers were warm against yours, the handshake firm yet oddly gentle. the touch lingered for a fraction longer than necessary, a subtle pause that neither of you commented on. when you both pulled away, you cleared your throat, the small noise cutting through the charged silence.

the quiet that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it carried a certain weight, filled with the quiet sounds of the fashion show below. the models moved like art in motion, their outfits catching the dramatic lighting as they walked with precision and elegance. the audience’s murmur blended with the music, creating an atmosphere that was both electric and intimate.

you leaned slightly against the barrier, completely taken by the view. the exclusivity of the lounge afforded you an unobstructed panorama of the venue, and for the first time all night, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be. the glistening runway, the precision of the models, the applause—it all felt surreal, like stepping into a dream.

beside you, yeonjun shifted slightly, his arms resting lazily on the railing as he turned his gaze toward you. his expression softened as he took in the way your eyes sparkled, your awe so apparent it made his lips curve into a fond smile. you were so wrapped up in the scene before you, that you didn’t notice his gaze lingering. he couldn’t help but wonder if you even realized how effortlessly captivating you looked in that moment. “so,” you spoke suddenly, breaking the quiet with a slight turn of your head toward him, completely unaware of the way he quickly snapped his eyes back to the show. “how do you even know about this place? and how are you able to be in such an exclusive part of the venue?”

yeonjun blinked, his lips quirking into a mischievous smile as he leaned back, his hands casually resting against the railing. “ah, you’ve caught me,” he said, his tone light but with an edge of teasing. “let’s just say... i have my ways.”

your brow furrowed, crossing your arms in playful disbelief. “that’s it? ‘i have my ways?’”

he chuckled, the sound deep and warm, his shoulders shifting slightly as he leaned closer to you with a grin. “well, what else do you want me to say?” he teased, his voice low and smooth. “i can’t just give away all my secrets in one go.”

you raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “you’re not exactly giving away any secrets.”

“true,” he conceded with a shrug, the glint of amusement never leaving his eyes. “but that’s the fun of it, isn’t it?”

“the fun of being vague?” you countered, though there was an undeniable twinkle of curiosity in your gaze. “so, what exactly do you do? are you in fashion too? a model? designer? photographer?”

yeonjun hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin in mock contemplation. “why don’t you take a guess?” he said, his tone teasing, clearly enjoying the vagueness.

you rolled your eyes, though you couldn't suppress the small smile that tugged at your lips. “this is ridiculous. you’re impossible.”

“impossible?” yeonjun repeats with a smirk, clearly unfazed by your challenge. “nah, i’m just... fun.” he flashed a wink, his voice smooth as honey. “besides, who wouldn’t want to leave a little mystery?”

you rolled your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. "you sure love being mysterious, huh?" the question was playful, but you couldn't shake the sense that there was more to him than he was letting on.

yeonjun just chuckled softly, and there was something about the sound—rich, smooth, and unhurried—that made it feel like the world around you slowed for just a second. it was like you were both in on some private joke, sharing the moment despite the crowd around you. you didn’t mind the silence between you two; it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was just peaceful, like the calm after a storm.

just then, the third set of pieces emerged on the runway, and your breath caught in your throat as you took in the intricate details, the stunning designs. you couldn’t help but feel a thrill rise up inside you as you watched the models glide down the runway. the way the fabric moved, the way the pieces complemented the models' bodies—it was all so... perfect.

you leaned forward slightly, eyes sparkling with excitement as you pointed out the dress that had caught your eye. “look at that one,” you said, your voice filled with awe. “the fabric—it's so delicate, but the design is so strong. and the color, it’s not just a plain red. it has this... depth, like layers of crimson blending together. the pleats on the skirt, the texture—it’s all so well-thought-out.”

yeonjun’s gaze flickered toward you, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise as he watched you closely, as though trying to figure out how you could notice all these details with such intensity. “you really know your stuff,” he remarked, his voice thick with amusement. “how can you notice all those details? most people wouldn’t even see half of that.”

you paused mid-rant, your excitement temporarily muted by the attention. your cheeks flushed slightly as you felt a sudden wave of self-consciousness. “well,” you said, hesitating for just a moment, “i... i’m acatually an aspiring fashion designer.”

yeonjun’s eyes softened at that, and there was a flicker of something in them—something... intrigued, maybe? he leaned in just a little, his posture shifting to show more interest. “an aspiring designer, huh?” he repeated, his tone surprisingly gentle for someone who’d been so teasing moments ago. “i should’ve known. there’s no way anyone could appreciate the details as much as you do unless they had an eye for design.”

you blinked, caught off guard by how understanding he sounded. you glanced down at your hands for a moment, suddenly feeling a little more vulnerable. “i’ve been working on some of my own pieces, but, you know... still figuring things out.”

yeonjun seemed to notice your hesitation, and his expression softened even more, though there was a glimmer of something playful in his eyes. “figuring things out is part of the process,” he said, his voice rich with warmth. “trust me, i’ve been there too.”

you glanced up at him, surprised by how genuine he sounded. “you have?” you asked, almost disbelieving.

he gave a small nod, his gaze briefly turning distant, as though lost in a memory. "yeah. the fashion world isn’t as easy as people think. but the ones who stick with it... they make it in the end."

there was a brief pause, and you took in his words, the weight of them settling on you. you weren’t sure why, but something about him made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t so far from your dream after all.

“thanks,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. it was more than just gratitude—it was a quiet affirmation that maybe you were on the right path, after all. ꒰🍦꒱ as the models continued to walk down the runway, you couldn’t help but get lost in the details of every piece. each look had its own story to tell, and you felt an overwhelming urge to share that excitement with someone, anyone.

yeonjun, fortunately, was right there, listening with quiet amusement as you rambled on.

"oh my gosh, look at that one!" you exclaimed, leaning slightly forward, pointing to a model in a simple yet striking gown. “the draping is just... it’s absolutely flawless. see how the fabric hugs the body and then just cascades out at the bottom? it’s almost like it has a life of its own. like the material is alive, you know? and the way it catches the light—"

yeonjun nodded, still watching you with that soft smile. “i see it. you’re right, it’s like the fabric is moving with the model, almost like it’s breathing with them.”

you looked at him briefly, surprised at how well he was following along. “exactly!” you said, your voice full of excitement. “and see the next one? the detailing on the neckline—it’s so delicate but intricate at the same time. the tiny beads embroidered around the collar, it adds this elegant touch, almost like it’s a necklace built into the fabric.” yeonjun could only chuckle lightly, amused by the way your eyes lit up every time you spotted something new.

you pointed again, this time at a model in a dress with a sharp, angular hem. “look at the sharpness of those edges! it’s almost architectural, like someone sculpted the fabric into that shape. it gives such a bold, confident vibe!”

yeonjun chuckled softly, watching her animated gestures with a twinkle in his eye. “hmm, you're spot on. such sharp, clean lines.”

“right? and the fabric choice, too. it has this stiffness to it, but not in an uncomfortable way—more like it’s meant to stand up on its own.” you beamed, caught up in the details.

his eyes softened. “you really notice everything, huh?"

you waved him off, already distracted by the next model. “oh, and this one! the way the sleeves puff out like that, it’s so dramatic but playful at the same time! and the fabric’s so airy—it looks like the model’s floating in it!”

yeonjun's gaze stayed on you, amused. “floating, huh? you make it sound so magical.”

“it is magical!” you responded, almost laughing at how much you’d already gotten lost in the runway. “and look at this one—look at how the waist is cinched so perfectly, giving the whole outfit such a nice structure, but it doesn’t feel too stiff. the way it moves... it's like it was made for the model’s body.”

yeonjun smiled, nodding. “i couldn't agree more.”

as the show continued, you kept going, pointing out the minute details that caught your eye, from the slight pleats on the edges of a sleeve to the way the fabric billowed out like a cloud. yeonjun simply listened, always agreeing with a small nod, a quiet “mhm” or “i see it,” but mostly, he just watched you, the way you effortlessly lost yourself in the designs.

you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d felt so... alive. It was as if you were standing right in the middle of a dream, and you weren’t afraid to look at every single detail that made it so perfect.

and yeonjun? well, he just couldn’t take his eyes off you.

once the event came to its dreaded end, you couldn’t help but let out a long sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly in disappointment. you pouted just a little, your lips forming a soft, almost melancholic curve. “i miss it already,” you murmured, mostly to yourself, as if the emptiness left by the show weighed heavily on you. “it feels like it ended too soon.”

yeonjun, who had been watching you the whole time with that subtle, amused smile, chuckled softly in response. it was a warm sound, almost affectionate, as if he found your sincere reaction endearing. "yeah, it’s always like that,” he agreed, his voice rich with fondness. “time flies when you’re caught up in something that amazing.”

you sighed again, almost as if you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something so beautiful had come to an end far too quickly. "i wish i could’ve stayed in that moment a little longer. it felt... perfect."

yeonjun’s smile widened just a bit, and he leaned against the railing, his gaze flickering between you and the slowly clearing crowd. "you made the most of it, though," he said, voice steady and reassuring. “not many people would’ve appreciated every little detail like you did. that’s something special.”

you glanced over at him, a soft blush rising to your cheeks at his words. "i guess i got a little carried away," you admitted with a shy laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. the thought of how you had been rambling with excitement made your heart skip a little. "but, i mean, how could i not? it was all just... breathtaking."

his eyes softened at your response, and he gave you a playful, knowing smile. "it’s nice to see someone so passionate about it," he said, his voice light but carrying a layer of sincerity. "you really got lost in the moment."

as the last few guests started trickling out of the venue, the noise around you began to swell, the sounds of chatter and the click of high heels filling the air. the once intimate atmosphere of the show now felt overwhelming with the crowds, the room suddenly feeling far too cramped.

yeonjun’s eyes scanned the space briefly, his expression thoughtful. then, without missing a beat, he looked back at you and raised an eyebrow. "i know a less crowded way out," he said, his voice calm amidst the growing chaos. "let me lead you out. wouldn't want you getting lost in this crowd."

you glanced around at the sea of people, their voices blending together in a cacophony, and immediately felt a little more anxious. you didn’t want to get lost in the rush of people, and his offer seemed like the perfect solution. after a moment of hesitation, you finally let out a soft breath and placed your hand in his, your fingers brushing against his palm with a fleeting but comforting touch.

“thank you. again,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the quiet sincerity of it making you feel strangely grounded in the midst of everything.

he gave your hand a light squeeze, his smile growing just a little warmer, more genuine. "anything for the most enthusiastic fashion designer slash critic i know," he teased lightly, his tone playful but kind.

you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling an unexpected warmth blooming inside you. you wanted to ask more, know more about him, but the moment felt so peaceful, and for once, you were content to just be present.

with a subtle nod, yeonjun led you through a quiet, hidden exit, avoiding the growing crowds of people who were starting to spill out into the streets. the path he guided you down felt like a secret, and somehow, you didn’t question it. instead, you were more than glad to have met someone as kind-hearted as him on what was turning out to be one of the most important days of your life.

once you were out of the building, the bustling noise from the show seemed so far behind you. yeonjun, still holding your hand, walked with a calm ease, his presence making the city’s energy feel just a little more bearable. his touch was like an anchor, steady and reassuring.

“let’s get you to a car,” yeonjun said as he turned toward a sleek limo waiting nearby. you blinked in surprise as he casually waved to the driver, the gesture effortlessly commanding attention.

you paused, a small frown tugging at your lips as you shook your head. “what? oh, i couldn’t possibly—”

but yeonjun wasn’t having it. with a playful smile, he waved off your hesitation. “oh, come on,” he said, his tone coaxing yet gentle. “it’s not every day i get to be this chivalrous.” he gestured toward the car with a teasing glint in his eyes. “besides, you’ve earned it.”

before you could protest further, yeonjun ushered you toward the limo with a gentle hand on your back. you sighed, defeated by his insistent kindness, but in that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse. his warmth, his attentiveness—it was all so comforting.

as you climbed into the car, you took a deep breath, sinking back against the plush seat, the quiet hum of the limo's engine making everything feel just a little bit surreal. once you were settled in, you turned to yeonjun, your eyes filled with gratitude.

“thank you, yeonjun,” you said again, your voice filled with so much gratitude that it almost felt like the words themselves couldn’t fully express what you were feeling. “really. for everything,” you continued, your gaze soft and sincere. “i don’t even know how to explain it, but… i honestly wouldn’t have made it through today without you. you made all the difference—more than you could know.”

yeonjun gave a small, dismissive shrug, his eyes glinting with an almost mischievous gleam. “it’s nothing, really” he said casually, though there was something in his voice that suggested he truly meant it. “if it's any consolation, your company and your little rant was something i truly enjoyed.”

the words, simple as they were, made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t quite expected. you nodded, smiling softly. but before you could say anything else, yeonjun’s expression shifted, becoming slightly more serious. “well then, see you soon.”

taglist! @pagelets , @jettithink, @killa-1009, @j-ji-jia, @frankghgr, @dawngyu, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @sxmmerberries, @napipope-ta, @bamgeutori, @xylatox <3 (click here if you would like to be adder !! ^^)

[cinellieroll]

☆ random obey me headcanons part 3!

beelzebub, belphegor and solomon ♡

part one (lucifer, mammon and simeon)

part two (asmodeus, levi and barbatos)

part four (satan and diavolo)

cw: slight spoilers again if you haven't played the recent lessons

small note: thank you again for the likes and reblogs. also, happy 20 followers! yippeee :^D also sorry for the delay i was being silly the whole day so..yeah

☆ beelzebub:

- doesn't listen to music that much which is kinda weird like wdym you don't vibe to hard ass beats everytime you work out? on the bright side a cupid playing a harp melody does start playing in his head when he sees food

- some days his resting bitch face goes so hard you think he'll start biting your neck off if you even try to talk to him

- he does a lot of unintentional things it's actually so hilarious. like no he didn't mean to mindlessly draw an icecream on your hand and start licking it. it was an accident! he swears!

- when you cry he tries to cheer you up with jokes but it always end up being horrible because deep down he's panicking inside on what to say. the bitch starts saying "why did the chicken cross the road" jokes while watching you bawl your eyes out with snot bubbling out your nose

- so instead of the horrible jokes he decides to hug you instead while picking you up and gently sways you left to right <3 and during those situations he's willing to do anything you want. you want him to carry you to your room? gotcha. you want him to buy you food from hell's kitchen? he promises he won't eat it. (he actually didn't but you could see his drool staining the paper bag once he gives it to you)

- there was one point in his life where he was the smallest and fattest out of all the brothers when he was still younger. his older bros, especially mammon would always pinch and bite his cheeks because of how he looked <3

- watches hells kitchen while eating food from hells kitchen. mans obsessed with the show

- has dimples and an eye smile

- he likes it when he holds your hand and look at it from time to time. he just likes to see how big it is compared to yours.

☆ belphegor:

- doesn't really use his phone a lot and resorts to watching TV instead so he doesn't have to use his hands

- slept while candy was in his mouth and woke up choking once. safe to say lucifer banned candies for a whole month after that and everyone else was NOT happy.

- since he is the youngest out of all the brothers he's pretty spoiled in a way. he wants to be the one you hang out with the most and if he needs to pull out the moves just so you'll give him cuddles he won't think twice

- "what do you mean you have plans with asmo today? didn't you know? he ditched cooking duty last night and lucifer told me to do the job instead. i deserve your attention more than he does."

- he thought you were attractive the first time you two met

- takes reaction pics. it's mostly him in a dimly lit room with his eyebrow raised or replicating a funny photo of his brothers

- wasn't interested in shows like hells kitchen until he saw you and beel watching it. he occasionally watches drag race too

- during car rides or road trips he always has to be the one in the back just so he could lay down and sleep

- you can't rely on him for notes because it's always covered in drool when he sleeps in class. although he mostly never takes notes at all he just relies on stock knowledge and good memory

☆ solomon:

- he never caught up with the recent trends in the human world so you really had no one to relate or talk to about your favorite shows, songs, etc

- decided to catch up for you anyway. what a sweetie pie ^_^

- a tear rolled down his cheek when raphael confessed that he liked his cooking for the first time.

- when he's drunk he starts singing love songs and starts going on a ramble about how lonely he is when he isn't with you. and yes, his voice WILL crack.

- sometimes he points things with his lips it's SOOOO HOTTTT

- he gets sad when you get suspicious of him when he's doing a nice gesture for you. he's aware that everyone else think he's shady, and he is! but mc, he just wants to do something nice for you!

- he's an asshole and will constantly tease you especially if you guys are seated together in class. he'll write a note on your notebook saying something like "remember when you *insert embarrassing moment here* or will start writing something subtly flirty like "wanna come over after school?"

- he buys you a lot of expensive things out of nowhere. like there was no ocassion whatsoever but he gifted you the recent iphone like what?