#and then suddenly every song was about you
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nights like this - ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ.
PAIRING : rafe cameron x kook!reader
SUMMARY : everything between you and rafe changes after one stupid birthday party.
WARNING(S) : drinking, smoking, swearing, kinda allusions to drunk driving please do NOT DO THAT EVER, not proofread
A/N : woahh rafe angst coming from me??? also ignore the shitty message thing I'm doing this on my laptop lmaoo (divider by @roseraris)
WC : 2.4k
if you want to be tagged in the part 2, leave a comment or an ask :)
masterlist.
"Babe, c'mon!"
Sarah's practically jumping with excitement as she's leading you to the front door of Tanney Hill. People are spilling out of the house, most already holding a drink or two.
You hear them congratulating you as you pass by, sending them smiles from eye to eye.
Sarah insisted that you should have a big party for this year's birthday. And, be honest, how could you resist?
You two enter the house and crash into Kelce and Rafe almost immediately.
"Well, the birthday girl is here!" Kelce's first to hug you, and you giggle over his shoulder.
When you look up, your eyes rest on Rafe. He looks as good as always— this time, a grin plastered to his lips as he glances at you.
Kelce pulls away, and it's Rafe's turn. He wraps his arms around your waist, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder, and the strong smell of sandalwood surrounds your face.
"You look beautiful," he whispers in a low, raspy voice beside your ear.
You’re almost sure he saw the glimpse of your cheeks reddening. And tonight, you don’t even care. It was your night. No stupid feelings can ruin it. Or, at least that’s what you thought.
It’s been like this forever— you’ve known Rafe since you were little, and he’s always been charming.
At first, it was simple things, just like kids would do.
He was letting you hang around, even though you were a bit younger than him. He’d always hold your hand while you were getting on the boat. After some years, you didn’t need any help, but these little moments were yours to keep.
You didn’t notice the moment Rafe started to get more handsome in your eyes, more like… boyfriend material.
It just happened. And after some time, you couldn’t deny it. Something was pulling you to Rafe Cameron.
“Well, see you around, ‘kay? Happy birthday.” Rafe speaks again, and you step back. His touch lingers on your hips before he nods to his sister and follows Kelce to a different part of the house.
You turn around to Sarah, only to see a suggestive look on her face. Her brows are raised, and she's biting her lower lip, trying not to laugh at you.
"Save it," You roll your eyes as you pull her with you to the drinks. "Tonight, I'm not worrying about any stupid guys!"
Your friend answers you with a chant, jumping around and almost spilling her first drink of the night. Someone's already making their way to wish you a happy birthday, and the speakers play one of your favorite songs.
It's going to be good.
After the third cup of Sarah's famous mix, you decide to take a breather. As you walk around Tanney Hill, your vision can't help but spin with each step. The upstairs is much quieter, and the loud thumps of music are not sending your head into space anymore. You don't really look where you're going, so when your feet lead you to the roof, you can't help but let a soft smile on your lips.
It's been your getaway place since ninth grade. Every time something bad happened, and your eyes were filled with tears not meant for the others to see, you climbed out the balcony, fresh air accompanying you.
You settle on the cold, hard tiles, making sure your dress doesn’t get too dirty. You can see everything from up here. The moon’s reflection on the ocean is blurred at the edges, moving with the waves.
You close your eyes, focusing on breathing in the salty air.
“Look who’s there.” The voice suddenly breaking through the silence makes you jump.
Rafe’s face appears, his sharp features bathing in the light from the room below. He smiles as he climbs up, taking the spot next to you.
“Hi.” You try your best for your voice not to sound weird.
He shuffles in his place, his arm absentmindedly brushing yours.
"So, got overwhelmed?" Rafe starts. You nod in response, letting out a sigh.
"You know me so well, huh?"
He rests on his elbows, and he has a proud look on his face when he looks at you. "Duhh. I might know you better than Sarah."
You snort. Maybe he's right. But there are little things only you know.
For example, the way your heart races at the moment. If you sat two inches closer, he’d surely hear every single beat.
The two of you sat like this, in the soothing silence. Only the whistles of wind and crashing waves below interrupted it.
"It's so nice..." You finally speak up, tilting your head.
"Mhm." Rafe mumbles, a cigarette between his lips. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his black pants, looking for a lighter. When he pulls it out, he raises his eyebrows at you. "Want one?"
You glance at him for a little. It's your birthday, after all. You nod, and Rafe lights up the cig. He takes a blow first, then passes it to you.
You inhale the smoke, a small cough escaping your lips.
"What do you wish for?" He says with a smirk. You give him a quick look and feel your cheeks warm up.
Fuck.
"I don't know..."
"Oh, you do know."
You roll your eyes. "And since when are you so curious about things like this?"
"Darling, when wasn't I curious about you?"
Rafe's got a point. He forced you into a corner, and there's no room for a slick escape.
"Alright," you start, looking at the dark horizon. "I'd like to kiss someone on a night like this."
He raises his eyebrow, moving his body closer to yours. "Are you kidding?"
"What? No!"
What were you supposed to do, tell him the truth? Say, 'Yeah, I wish you'd notice I've been head over heels for you since, like, forever?' No. You had to make something up.
Fortunately for you, it wasn't a total lie. You've always adored this time of the day— soft, quiet nights. The sky filled with stars, the breeze flowing around you.
"Seriously! It's... romantic."
"Oh, yeah?"
He’s leaning in, and when your eyes dart down, his fingers trace the back of your hand.
Before you can do anything, Rafe presses his lips to yours, the taste of vodka lingering in between.
It's soft, almost as if Rafe's unsure. Nothing like the kisses you've been imagining before falling asleep. Those were burning, filled with passion, and you'd usually already be soaked by the rain.
You put your hand on his chest, a move laced with uncertainty, and finally deepen the kiss. Under your fingertips, you can feel each beat of his heart. It's as intense as the thumps of music below your body. This feels so... unreal.
His hands make their way to your neck, holding it from behind and pulling you even closer.
You sober up in seconds. You part from him, your breath coming out heavy.
His lips are red, a shade slowly matching his cheeks.
“Enjoy your wish,” Rafe whispers beside your lips, and you feel your heart fall.
What did it mean to him? You've known him forever, and you've seen how he used to act with girls— making out with them the whole night, not even bothering to text them back after the party's over. He's so nonchalant and so smug that you start having second thoughts.
“Rafe. I swear, if you’re trying to mess with me—”
“Hey,” he grabs your hand and puts it on his chest, near the heart. Now, his heart rate is even stronger than the music thumps. “Do you really think I’m joking?”
You open your mouth, ready to answer when you hear someone calling you. Your eyes widen as you glance over at Rafe again. The smirk on his face seems to be stuck there.
“I- I have to go,” you mumble, trying to get down without giving him a chance to notice how shaky your legs are. And your hands. Actually, how shaky you are in overall.
“I’ll drive you home later. Okay, baby?”
If you were alone, the whole Outer Banks would hear the scream that’s begging to get out of your throat.
“Didn’t you drink?” You try to sound as casual as you can, but the corners of your mouth manage to rise.
He shakes his head, “Not much. You better go down there. They’re waiting for the birthday girl.”
You look at him for the last time before disappearing into the house, cheeks warmer than ever in your life.
Hours later, the crowd in the house starts to thin. You didn't really drink much after coming back— the kiss was intoxicating enough.
Sarah walks around, throwing all the empty cups she'd found in the trash bag.
"Sarah, you don't have to do it now!" You whine, leaning on the couch. "I'll come back in the morning and help you, promise."
She shakes her head, "It's nothing. I'm honestly surprised it's not that much of a mess. You should go and find Rafe, he'll drive you home."
As she mentions her brother, she wiggles her brows with a playful smirk, making you groan. "Shut up! I shouldn't have told you about that after you drank those weird mixes—"
She giggles, picking up the bottles laying next to the table.
You roll your eyes and leave the room, looking around for the well-known face. He's nowhere to be seen here, so you climb up the stairs, moving around the very few people left, sending them soft and quick smiles as you pass them.
"Rafe?" You call out through the empty halls, heading to his room. You wouldn't be shocked if he just went to his room, away from all the people.
His door is left slightly open. You frown as you lean in, peeking through the thin gap. Even though it's not really polite.
A second later you wish you'd never gone there. Of course, Rafe's inside. But not alone.
In fact, there's some touron girl all over him. Her arms are around his neck, and you are almost sure they're shoving their tongues down each other's throats. You don't see much in the dim, warm light, but what you've already seen is enough.
You stand there for a split second, holding your breath, before you turn around on your heels and sprint down, as quietly as you can.
There's a bitter feeling in your throat, the way it tightens. You try to breathe, the air coming out in heavy, shaky parts.
You should've known this. It was obvious from the beginning— how could Rafe, someone who's been around since you were a little kid, see you as something more? As a girl he could be with?
Maybe he did find you attractive, but nothing more. You were just one of many girls.
"Woah!"
You crash with someone, almost falling, but you somehow keep your balance. Topper's standing in front of you, startled. There's a glimpse of worry in his eyes, the brows beneath them pulled together.
"Topper!" you breathe out, "Can you drive me home? Pretty please."
"Uhm, I mean, sure. But wasn't Rafe supposed to drop you off? I've heard him saying--"
You swallow hard. "He's busy."
"Oh, alright. Go to my car, I'll grab my keys and be there in a second, okay?"
"Mhm." You nod and look around to find Sarah asleep on one of the couches. A giggle slips from your lips, a reaction that makes you raise your brows.
Guess you'll have to tell her everything tomorrow.
You head out of the house, cold, breezy air hitting you in the face. Topper's car is already waiting for you on the driveway. You quickly take the passenger seat.
While waiting for the boy, you have to blink away the tears. You feel so... stupid.
Topper comes a few minutes after you. You can feel his stare as you two make your way to your house, but he doesn't say a thing until you are in front of your place.
"Will you be okay?" he asks. You jump on the hard ground and turn around to him, tilting your head.
"Yeah. Thanks," you say softly with a smile. "I'll be fine."
You don't waste a second— right after he drives off you go to your house, trying not to wake anyone up.
The first time you let the tears fall this night is in the shower. The salty streams get mixed with water, dripping onto your feet.
You try to feel anything.
You wait for the anger when you put on your pajamas.
You stand in the fogged-up mirror, searching for the slightest sadness on your face.
Even while laying in bed, minutes before falling asleep, you give yourself a moment to crash out. To be mad, be jealous over a boy you've loved for what feels like forever. But none of that comes.
Instead, you just feel plainly stupid. Maybe it's because of the alcohol in your system, or maybe you're ashamed you seriously thought he could like you.
You don't get any answer.
"Fuuckk."
You're never letting Sarah near the alcohol cupboard ever again. God only knows what she put in those mixes, but your head feels like exploding.
You look around the room bathed in the soft, early morning sunlight. You're not sure how much sleep you got, but it surely wasn't enough for you to forget what happened at the party.
Your phone is on the nightstand, next to a glass of water and some aspirin, probably left here by your mom.
You rub your eyes as you reach for it, your vision is still a little blurry.
There are some messages from Sarah, and you can’t help but smile when you see it all in the caps.
Of course, you can’t be happy for even a minute because, under her messages, there’s a notification from Rafe. Two missed calls and a few texts.
You squeeze the bridge of your nose as you read what he’d typed out.
Typical Rafe. Always acting clueless. So frustrating.
You bite your lip, thinking of how to reply. You didn't have the energy to talk about what you saw. Just like you were numb before, now all the emotions come with full force. If you tried to explain it, you'd probably end up screaming, crying or just completely breaking down.
The best thing to do is not to make a deal out of it— at least that's what you come up with, your head dizzy from being hungover, as your trembling fingers hit each letter.
It's for the better. Because this way, you can't get hurt even more. The thought of you spilling your heart in front of him, and Rafe's response is what he'd always use with the other girls...
You can't let it happen.
#mayanneaa#obx#outer banks#outerbanks#sarah cameron#obx 4#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron ff#rafe fanfiction#obx rafe cameron#outerbanks rafe#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe cameron blurb#one shot#angst
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DUNGGEULGE DUNGGEULGE
TLDR >>> During mingle, player 001 saves your life more than once. WARNINGS >>> Death/Murder (it is squid games after all.)
It was the third day of the horrorifying reality you were now living. At first, it didn’t seem so bad. Play a couple children’s games and have the possibility of winning 45.6 billion? You thought it would be easy. You thought the man you knew as player 456 was crazy. What did he mean you would die?
But you quickly started to believe him when people started getting killed during a ‘friendly’ game of red light, green light. The evening before the second game you had found a group, consisting of player 456–who you now know to be Gi-hun, Jung Bae, Dae-ho, Jun-Hee and player 001, or Young-il.
You and player 001 had the strongest connection of the group, even though the age gap between you was over a decade and half. He was a married man, and you a young American. Who could be a better match? He seemed to protect you too, although you couldn’t place your finger on why.
So when the next game was announced to be something called ‘mingle’ you had no idea what it meant—Only that it would be dangerous. “Stick by me.” Young-il demanded before the game started. As you got onto the platform, it started to spin. The platform spun—like a carousel—for about a minute as a children’s song, sung in Korean, was played over the speakers. It was both charming and eerie.
Just then, the number ‘four’ was called. Young-il grabbed your hand and pushed you into a room with two other people before locking the doors. “What is going on!?” You ask, frightened. “It’s the game.” Young-il responds. “They’ll kill everyone who isn’t in a room.” Suddenly, there are gunshots, followed by loud screams. You cover your ears in fear. The gunshots and screams slowly die down. The silence is deafening.
You look up at Young-il, your eyes wide with fear and confusion. He squeezes your hand reassuringly. After a few tense moments, the door to your room bursts open. You are forced to play round after round, slowly inching farther and farther apart from player 001. Even with all the deaths, there are too many players in the way…yet every time, Young-il miraculously finds you and pulls you into an empty room before the timer ends.
In room after dread-filled room, you endure the nightmare. Each ‘mingle’ round kills off more and more players. Finally, the last round arrives. “How many do you think this time?” You ask shakily. Young-il looks at you with a grim expression. “Two.” The music starts up again, and the platform begins to spin once more. “Why?” You ask as the final round begins, the platform spins lazily, the childhood melody twisted into something unsettling.
Young-il keeps a tight grip on your hand. “There are 126 of us left, and there are fifty rooms.” He pauses, looking you dead in the eye with a calm intensity. “They’ll kill the rest.” And just as 001 said, the number called out is ‘two.’ Everyone is scrambling to get to a door. Pushing, shoving, and even throwing people out of the way just to survive. Young-il grabs your arm and leads you to a yellow room, pushing a player out of the way in the process. Once you get inside, there is a plump man in the corner—Player 343.
‘Eight.’
‘Seven.’
‘Six.’
Player 343 sits huddled in the corner, eyes wide and terrified. Young-il locks the door and turns to the man. “Get out.” He demands. “We were here first.” Says player 343, as 001 walks over to him and puts him in a tight headlock, slowly choking him. You press your back the door in horror. What was Young-il doing?
The screeches and screams from outside are impossible to tune out as you press your hands against your ears. You can hear all the pain and misery—and the gunshots haven’t even started yet.
‘Five.’
‘Four.’
‘Three.’
Suddenly the door behind you is banged on by one of the players Young-il pushed out of the way to save you. “Open the door, you bastards!” He screams. “I was here first!” You look back at Young-il, who is still choking 343 as the timer counts down. “I’m sorry!” You say as you keep the door shut.
What were you supposed to do? There was now way to justify your actions…but you needed to stay alive. Yet this is the very thing you never wanted to be. A killer.
‘Two.’
‘One.’
As the countdown hits zero, a loud ‘game over’ is announced over the speakers in korean. Gunshots ring out as the door automatically locks. You look over your shoulder to Young-il and the corpse of player 343—the man he had just snapped the neck of. You cover your mouth with your hands in horror as Young-il gets up and walks over to you. “I did what I had to do.”
He stands over 343's lifeless body, breathing heavily. The blood rushing in his ears drowns out the sound of his own heartbeat. He turns to face you, seeing the horror etched on your face. "Look at me." His voice is low and urgent, commanding your attention amidst the chaos of your frightened thoughts. "Look at me," He repeats, grasping your shoulders firmly. "In these games, It's kill or be killed." You nod your head in understanding, wiping your shallow tears.
You would never understand.
A/N: Sorry if this is bad, it’s my first time writing for squid games.
#in ho#in ho x reader#in ho squid game#front man#hwang in ho#the frontman#player 001#young il#young il x reader#in-ho x reader#squid game season 2#squid games#squid game 2#squid game netflix#squid game x you#squid game fic#squid game fanfic#squid game imagine#squid games x reader
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Ok so i accidentally posted this so here's the rest lol
"Can someone explain please?"
Fleur smiled at Harry.
"It'z a meme I tink."
"It's a gif of Josh Hutcherson that's been turned purple, and in the background is the song Ginny was whistling, which is Whistle by Flo Rida," Cho explained.
---
December 26th, 2 AM
Ron and Hermione drove home with Draco and Harry, as Draco was the only one who hadn't had any firewhiskey.
When Harry had asked about the soberness, Draco had seemed uncomfortable so he hadn't pushed the subject.
"You should come more often to our family gatherings," Ron told Draco, his voice betraying the quantity of alcohol he had consumed. "You're great."
"Ronald, you're falling over," Hermione complained sleepily. Glancing back, Harry saw that she was curled up against Ron's chest, and Ron had indeed started to tilt dangerously away from her.
As he turned forwards again, he caught Draco's eye and they both smiled.
"W-Well, I shall certainly take you up on that offer Weasley."
"That means you can't break up with Harry, understood?" Ron said loudly.
If Harry hadn't been only marginally less drunk than his friend, he might have understood what Ron was doing, but as it was, he merely laughed.
"I... I shall keep that in mind," Draco replied.
They reached Ron and Hermione's house a few minutes later, and Hermione and Draco helped Ron into the house.
Harry watched Draco make sure Ron was ok with a little bit of jealousy, although he wasn't sure where it had come from.
When Draco returned to the car after Ron and Hermione were safely inside, Harry looked up at him, pouting.
"What's wrong?" Draco asked as he pulled away from the curb.
"You're supposed to be my boyfriend, not Ron's," Harry complained with a whine.
"Well, I'm not his boyfriend, but I'm not yours either," Draco replied mildly.
"Yeah but you could be."
A pause.
"Draco?"
"Mhm?"
"Wanna kiss you."
"Harry, you're drunk," Draco said with a slight tremble in his voice. He kept his eyes firmly on the road.
"No'm not," he slurred.
Draco sighed.
"Look, if you still want to date me once you're sober, which seems unlikely, I'll gladly take you up on it."
---
December 26th, 10 AM
Harry woke up in his own bed, with a strong feeling that there was something he was supposed to do something important, but he couldn't remember what it was.
He lay in bed for a few minutes, trying to remember, before giving up and going downstairs.
To his surprise, there was someone in his kitchen, who seemed to actually know how a kitchen worked.
A very blonde and recognizable someone.
"Draco?" Harry asked, sure his sleep ridden and hung over brain was hallucinating.
"Ah, you're up. I made you breakfast if you want," Draco said over his shoulder as he washed dishes.
"Draco?"
"Mhm?"
"What did you say last night?"
"Uh... Many things?"
"No, I remember you said something important but I was drunk."
"You were indeed very drunk," Draco confirmed. "That doesn't narrow it down much. Eat your breakfast, maybe you'll think of it."
Harry took the plate on the counter. Draco had made him an english breakfast, and had arranged some tomato slices in the shape of a heart on top of the beans.
"Risky choice for breakfast, what if all I liked was coffee?" Harry asked as he started eating.
"Harry, I saw you every day for 7 years."
And suddenly, Harry remembered.
"You said that if I asked you to be my boyfriend when I was sober you'd say yes."
"Did I?"
"Yes. You did. And you meant it, didn't you."
Draco didn't answer, but his hands stilled on the plate he was washing.
Harry hesitated, unsure how to proceed.
"Draco?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Want to be my boyfriend?"
"More than anything."
fake dating scenario in which, after a messy break up, harry and ginny compete on who can bring the most outrageous date to the next weasley family event. somehow harry gets wind that not only is ginny bringing home a girl for the first time, that girl also happens to be harry’s former gf. so now he’s scrambling last minute to find someone who’s gonna upstage THAT. enter draco who for whatever reason needs a big favor from harry. which gives harry an idea and he’s like, ill do this for you but you need to help me with this other thing… harry now has to convince his family and friends that he and draco are dating while fielding all sorts of questions and skepticism
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hiii can u pls write headcanons for thanos x fem reader in and out of the games? ty and have a good day ❤️
boyfriend thanos.
warnings … might be typos idk
lovely notes … i can finally have an authors note like an ao3 writer… sorry this took so long i got into a relationship, took finals, and had to put my dog down
꩜ [ 673 words ]
IN THE GAMES
thanos / player 380 would protect you with his entire life. he doesn’t want you to be in the games in the first place, so he’s gonna guard you with his all.
he’s so protective and jealous that it borders on the line of toxicity. it definitely concerns the other players how possessive he gets over you.
he runs to your defense without a second thought. if a player dares to cross you, he’d be at their throat in an instant.
“what the fuck did you just say?” “su-bong, leave it alone.”
you never leave his side, like ever. if you’re in a game, voting, or just minding your business before lights out, his hand is practically glued to your waist.
he’s very large on pda, very large. it’s like his hand is magnetized to every part of your body. his hand is on your waist, lower back, thigh, or nape, or his fingers might just be interlocked with yours.
hates for you to call him thanos. it makes it sound like you’re just another random person to him and not his significant other. call him by his name, a nickname, or and pet name and he’s a goner.
he doesn’t want the other players to know the full extent of your relationship. while he wants them to know that you’re together, he doesn’t want them to be aware of how deep his love runs for you.
would actually lose his mind if anyone were to do as much as breath in your direction. he knows people in the games can’t be trusted and he knows that you know. yet, he can’t help himself but want to shield you from all of them.
gives you his food because he doesn’t want it. even if he had the appetite to eat, he’d still give you the majority of his meal.
“i’m not hungry.” “did i ask? now cmon, have mine.”
he stares at you when he thinks that no one else is watching. he adores you heavily, and he can’t do anything but helplessly glance at you.
whenever he touches you, he lets his hand linger for just a little bit too long. the feeling of your skin under his fingertips grounds him.
OUT THE GAMES
he will never leave your side. like ever. after the terror you’ve been through, he’d be damned if he let you slightly out of his sight.
surprisingly, nam-gyu is chill with you guys. the few times you’ve hung out with him, he’s been one of the calmest people you know, opposite to thanos.
he’s always there to listen to you. he’s always your shoulder to lean on no matter what.
takes you out on the most lavish dates. since the both of you are pretty rich now, he wants nothing more than to shower you in luxury.
“baby, let’s go out tonight.” “we literally went out last night.” “who cares? live life.”
he can’t fall asleep unless you're next to him. if you’re not aside him, he’d stay up for hours on end. he craves the feeling of your warm body next to him.
he wants to spend every waking moment with you. it’s to the point where it’s an unusual amount of time, but neither of you comment on it.
he writes all of his songs about you. you’re his muse who inspires all of his creativity. after the games, all of his songs suddenly became love songs.
everything he sees reminds him of you. minuscule things such as oversized hoodies, butterflies, and even strawberries.
“baby, i saw a strawberry ceramic cup and it reminded me of you.” “really?”
he can’t keep his hands off of you. wrapping his arms around you, putting a hand on your shoulder, or even having his hands on your waist. he’s so infatuated with you that it’s insane.
he’s obsessed with kissing you and he’s so corny about it. he often finds himself smiling in between kisses or staring at you for a few brief moments afterward.
#(౨ৎ) — fics .#thanos#thanos x reader#choi su bong x reader#thanos fluff#thanos imagine#thanos scenario#squid game#squid game fluff#squid game imagine#squid game scenario#squid game netflix#squid game season 2#squid game 2#x reader#x reader insert#female reader
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ᓚᘏᗢ — glue song !
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ᯓ★
pairings﹕ itoshi sae x gn!reader
contents﹕ one shot, fluff, wc: 946, proofread
the soft hum of the evening settled over madrid as you wandered through the cobblestone streets, your hand brushing against sae's every so often. it was a small, unspoken tradition for the two of you - waking aimlessly after his training sessions, letting the city's golden hour embrace the spaces where words didn't need to fill.
tonight, though, sae seemed quieter than usual. his hands were stuffed into the pockets of his coat, his usual composed expression more distant, almost heavy.
"long day?" you asked, tilting your head toward him.
he let out a soft hum, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "something like that."
you knew better than to press. sae itoshi wasn't one to unload his thoughts easily, even with you. still, his silence spoke volumes - a language you'd learned to read in the small moments you shared.
the breeze carried the faint scent of blooming jasmine, and you tugged gently on his sleeve to steer him toward the park. the flowers were just beginning to bloom, their soft petals brushing against each other like the quiet beginnings of spring.
"let's sit for a bit," you suggested, guiding him to a bench beneath a tree.
he followed without a word, sitting beside you with the quiet elegance he always carried. his shoulders were relaxed, but you could see the faint tension in his jaw.
"i saw your game last week," you began, breaking the silence. "you were amazing. as always."
he glanced at you, his lips curving into a small, almost unnoticeable smile. "you always say that."
"because it's true," you countered, nudging him lightly. "i'm your biggest fan, remember?"
his smile lingered for a second longer before fading, replaced by a thoughtful look. "it's not always as easy as it looks."
your heart ached at his words. sae itoshi was a genius, a prodigy on the field - but he was also just a boy. a boy who carried the weight, of expectations, who chased perfection in a world that demanded nothing less.
"then let me make it easier," you said softly, your hands finding his.
he turned to you, his teal eyes searching yours. for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
"how?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"by being here," you replied. "by reminding you that you're not alone."
his grip on your hand tightened, and the faintest crack appeared in his composure. sae was strong, but even he had limits. and in that moment, you saw the boy beneath the prodigy - the boy who had dreams, fears, and a heart that beat just as vulnerably as anyone else's.
"i don't know what i'd do without you," he admitted, the words heavy with sincerity.
you smiled, your thumb brushing against his knuckles. "you'd figure it out. but you don't have to."
the silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. it was the kind of silence that felt like home, like a bond unshaken by the chaos of the world.
"y/n," he said suddenly, his gaze fixed on the blooming flowers ahead. "i think about you a lot. more than i probably should."
your breath hitched, the vulnerability in his voice catching you off guard. "sae..."
"i don't say it enough," he continued, turning to face you fully. "but you're important to me. you keep me grounded when everything else feels like it's slipping away."
his confession was quiet, almost hesitant, but it carried the weight of every unsaid feeling he'd ever held.
"i love you," you whispered, the words spilling from your heart before you could stop them. "you're my glue, sae. you hold me together."
for a moment, he said nothing. then, in a rare display of emotion, he reached out, cupping your face with a gentleness that made your chest ache.
"i love you too," he said, the words soft but firm. "more than i thought i could."
the golden light of the sunset bathed the two of you in its warmth as you leaned into his touch. in that moment, there was no need for anything else - no expectations, no pressure, no words.
it was just you and sae, bound by a love that felt as unshakable as the earth beneath your feet.
later that night.
back at your shared apartment, the quiet comfort of your space enveloped you both. sae leaned against the counter, watching as you brewed tea - a ritual you insisted on whenever he came back from training.
"you're staring," you teased, glancing over your shoulder.
"can't help it," he replied, his tone soft but teasing.
you rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you handed him a steaming cup. "drink this before you get all poetic."
he took the cup, his fingers brushing against yours. "thanks."
as you settled onto the couch together, you pulled a blanket over your legs, leaning into his side. his arm found its way around you, pulling you closer.
"you're warm," you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut.
"good," he replied, his voice low. "you're always so cold."
you chuckled, the sound muffled against his shoulder. it was in these moments, when the world fell away and it was just the two of you, that you felt the depth of your connection.
"i meant what i said earlier," you whispered, your fingers tracing patterns on his arm.
"i know," he replied, pressing a kiss to your temple. "so did i."
and as the night deepened, with the city's lights casting a soft glow through the window, you drifted off in his arms, your heart full and your love unshaken.
because sae itoshi was your glue, and you were his.
a/n: first one shot lolll ; this was inspired by the song "glue song" by bea UGH I LOVE IT SM
© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.
#mixolya!#itoshi sae x reader#itoshi sae#sae#sae itoshi x reader#sae itoshi fluff#itoshi sae fluff#itoshi sae imagines#sae itoshi imagines#bllk#bllk x reader#bllk fluff#bllk imagines#bluelock#sae x reader#sae imagines#sae fluff
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looking through your eyes + thirty one
authors note: foreshadowing? planted seeds? twists? who knows.
cw/tw: angst, fluff, and drama
song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes
cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form
words: 12k
“You know we should probably be getting up soon.”
“Probably.”
Solana waits for him to move. He doesn’t, but neither does she. “Ro?”
“Hmm?”
“You haven’t moved.”
He makes a sound, hands shifting just a bit, clearly trying to be mindful of the Saniderm still covering one of her new tattoos. “Neither have you.”
Solana opens her mouth to protest, but she can’t, because he’s right. They’ve been in this position for a good hour now, him laying on top of her, in between her legs, hugging her, head resting comfortably on her chest as she plays with his hair that’s down, free, in its natural state.
It’s comfortable, to say the least. She enjoys being laid up with him, being close to him, but she also knows that they have a long day ahead of them, a day that can’t start as long as they’re still in bed together.
Even Dulce who snores quietly in her newest princess bed.
“True,” she agrees. “But, I can’t move unless you move, so….”
Roman grunts quietly, adjusting himself on top of her. “I’m not moving.”
“Ro…..”
“How have you been feeling?”
Somehow, Solana knows exactly what he’s referring to despite it being a general, almost vague question.
“The morning sickness has gotten a little better.” Thank God. That constant feeling of nausea as well as having to vomit every morning was becoming borderline unbearable. “No bleeding….” Her voice lowers. Solana doesn’t really like talking about that situation. Regardless of everything being, hopefully, okay now, it was still a terrifying experience that she’d rather not revisit.
And something tells her that her husband feels the same way.
“Good,” he murmurs, hand moving to the side of her, finger moving in absent, shapeless motions. When he says nothing, Solana finds herself giggling, small smile growing on her face.
“You’re really not gonna move, are you?”
A second of delay. Like he’s really considering it. Like he’s actually going to move. “Naw.”
Rolling her eyes, Solana once again is reminded that as big and strong as her husband can be, he most definitely has his “big baby” moments.
And speaking of baby….
“So, I’ve been thinking—”
“Yes?”
“Until we go public with the pregnancy, or start telling people, if I start to get sick—”
At that, he lifts his head, gaze focused on her. “Sick?”
“Morning sickness,” she clarifies, keeping her hand in his hair, her fingers massaging his scalp. “I need to be able to tell you without….ya know….telling you.”
He nods. “I agree.”
“So, I came up with something. At least…at least for tonight.” Because keeping this pregnancy a secret for at least the next 2 or 3 months will most likely continue to be a challenge that they have to navigate together. “If I sit on your lap—”
“I like it already.”
She rolls her eyes, ignoring his sly remark. “—and I squeeze your thigh—”
He makes a sound, dipping his mouth to kiss the top of her chest. “I really like that—”
“Then I’m starting to feel sick, and we need to leave.” She bites down on her bottom lip, suddenly unsure if what she’d come up with makes sense. “Is—is that okay?”
Roman chuckles. “Baby, you had me sold at sitting on my lap.” Of course, she did. “Are you sure you want to do this today?”
This refers to two things. One being meeting and speaking with her biological father, and the second being her informing the rest of her maternal family of their kinship.
She's nervous as shit about both, but she also knows that she needs to do this.
For herself.
"I am," she answers, nodding to herself. "I have to."
He doesn't say anything, and she's grateful. Grateful that even if he doesn't outright agree, he's still being supportive, because that's just who he is to her. A support system.
And it's one of the man reasons she loves him.
When the silence continues, Solana decides to switch gears a little. Take advantage of this time they have together. “Well, since you still haven’t moved….” Her voice is initially teasing before slipping into something more serious. “I know you don’t want me training during this pregnancy, and I agree, but I don’t—I don’t want to stop learning altogether.”
He sighs. “Solana—”
“I want to learn how to shoot,” she cuts him off, unsurprised when he lifts his head to look at her. “I’ve been texting Afia, and she—”
“Afia?” Finally, Roman sits up and moves off her, but it’s not for the reasons she was hoping. “Since when do you talk to her?”
“Ro…..” She’s careful with her words, trying to be respectful of Roman’s boundaries but also recognizing her autonomy. “She’s your brother’s wife. My sister-in-law….” Solana’s hand drops to her stomach. “Their kids will be the girls' cousins. If you….if you aren’t ready to try to build a relationship with Matteo, that….that’s fine, but—I like Afia. She’s nice, and we get along well. And she’s been going to the shooting range, and I wanna go with her.”
Roman looks away, and Solana readies to say something else, but she stops when she sees that he’s clearly deep in thought. Most likely trying to combat logic with emotion. Trying to find a balance between what he wants and what she wants.
“I don’t know, Sol. I don’t know her well enough to trust you with her.”
“That’s why you’ve gotta trust me,” is her soft response. Solana scoots over to him, holding onto his muscular arm. “Trust my judgment.” Eager to help him further consider her perspective, she points out, “not being able to train at all is going to be hard for me, Ro. I need something.”
It’s already been hard for her. Solana has gotten used to the routine and empowerment that comes with feeling herself grow stronger, psychologically and physically. And sure, once her pelvic rest restrictions are lifted, there’s a small chance she could continue to train, just in a different capacity. However, she doesn’t want to take any chances, and she knows Roman feels the same way.
Thus, this feels like an appropriate substitution. Because truth be told, being his wife, and not even knowing how to properly hold a gun, let alone use it, feels almost like a crime. Solana doesn't like weapons, especially guns, but it feels naive and almost irresponsible to not at least know how to use one.
Even if she prays that day never comes.
“What if I teach you?” He suddenly suggests, eyes almost hopeful. “If you want to learn, it should be from the best.”
Solana doesn’t doubt that. She’s heard people talk about as such. Not only does Roman excel at hand to hand combat, which she’s seen for herself, his aim is impeccable.
He never misses.
“I’d be okay with that,” she agrees, voice trailing. “But, I want to learn from Afia as well.”
He sighs. “Solana—”
“Just like training with a woman is different from training with a man, I think…I think learning how to shoot might be the same.” Perhaps. She’s not entirely certain, but it leads into her next point. “And, I would just feel better learning from the both of you.” She kisses his shoulder, a small smile forming on her face. “But, if it helps, I really want to learn the spear from you. Only you.”
Solana is relieved to see his small grin as well. “You still on that spear obsession?”
She pouts, defending herself. “It’s not an obsession. It’s just….it seems effective. Like…like a finishing move, almost.”
When coming from her husband, at least. She’s certain she could never inflict nearly as much damage as he could, largely because of the differing experience. Mostly because Roman is fucking huge.
Almost 300lbs of pure muscle coming at someone with all that weight and speed?
Yeah….recipe for disaster.
Or worse.
The thought pattern cause her to ask something she’d heard but hasn’t had a chance to inquire about. “Is it true you ruined someone’s career with a spear? Brock something?”
It’s not missed on her how he tenses a bit. “Yeah. Old college football rivalry that bled into the ring.” Roman scoffs, his hand moving to her knee, thumb caressing her skin. “I’ll admit. Fucker was the most physically challenging opponent I’ve ever faced.” Her eyes widen at that. Roman being challenged by anyone in that way seems and almost feels impossible. “We went at it a couple times, but the last one, I speared him, he went down badly on his right leg, the dominant one, and fucked it up real good. Ended any chance he had at going pro.”
Solana nods, taking it all in. “He wasn’t….he wasn’t in….ya know, the business?” For some reason, it feels almost strange asking about that. Asking about someone’s affiliation, membership, or lack thereof, in the crime world. Mostly because Solana was always left out of these conversations by Xavier, her preference at the time.
Not necessarily, anymore.
Roman scoffs, shaking his head. “He tried, but he was a dumbass farm boy who didn’t have the mental capability to make it or be successful." She winces, partially feeling bad.
Curious, Solana inquires, “whatever happened to him?”
Roman shrugs, answering, “last I heard he bought a shit ton of land and does farming. I don’t know beyond that, and I don’t really fucking care to be honest with you.” Fair and expected for her husband. “What I care about is you and keeping you safe.”
His smooth redirection back to the conversation at hand is impressive, but as is the case with most things Roman Reigns related. “I will be safe, Roman. I just….training also helps me to feel safe, so I need something else to help me with that in the time being.” And when he looks at her, partially concerned, she already knows what he’s thinking. “You always make me feel safe, Ro. The safest I’ve ever felt in my life, but I—I also need to be able to provide that for me. Learning how to fight and defend myself has been so good for me. Please….please let me keep it going.”
Solana watches and waits quietly, allows and prays her words settle into her overprotective husband. She can understand why this could be hard for him, but she hopes his faith and trust in her overpowers any mistrust he might have in Afia.
“Alright,” he acquiesces. “If this is really what you want—”
“It it,” she speaks up, excitement growing at the possibility of his approval. “It really is.”
He runs his hands through his hair. “Then you can do it.” Solana giggles and holds his arm, hugging him. “But, I want Bautista with you at all times—”
“Of course.” An easy thing to agree to, Solana readying to ask Roman why and if Solo will ever return to being included in her personal security detail when he transitions the topic.
“Since we’re talking about shit…” Roman moves off the bed, Solana frowning and watching him walk over to his dresser. He opens up the top drawer, pulling out two letters that she focuses on as he climbs back on the bed. Handing them both to her, she reads her name on both letter as he shares, “these are for you….”
The confusion grows, weighing down her furrowed brows. “What—what are they?” Her question is premature as she notices the sender.
Pacific Life
Her frown deepens.
“What…..”
Roman nods gently. “Open em’.”
Solana still has so many questions, but they’re questions that clearly can only be answered by opening said letters.
And, that’s exactly what she does.
Solana has always been a quick reader, so it doesn’t take long for her to come to some level of understanding. Pacific Life is clearly a life insurance company, and said letters both say the exact same thing, with the main difference being the names listed on each.
One is Xavier Miller, and the other is Wesley Miller.
And both include checks.
“Oh my God…..” Solana’s hand slaps over her mouth, her eyes widening as she takes in the amount. The same on both checks.
$15,000,000.00
Wide eyes darting up to her husband, she drops her hand, mouth ajar. “I dont…..what?”
Roman moves his hand to her cheek, voice as gentle as his gaze. “I settled Xavier’s debts to keep them from coming after you—”
Solana’s stomach flips. “Roman—”
“And clearly, Xavier had Wes as his beneficiary for his life insurance policy and vice versa for Wesley. With them both dead and you last of kin, that makes you the beneficiary of both policies."
Nothing he’s saying is any different from what’s included in both letters outside of Roman paying off Xavier’s debt, something she both hates and loves. Hates her husband did anything for that man but recognizes and loves that he did it for her, did it to keep those debts from being sacked onto her.
But, regardless, there’s something so mind-blowing about opening two letters and finding oneself is now thirty million dollars richer.
“I don’t—I can’t—” Her words are choppy, similar to her many, fleeting thoughts. “I don’t want anything from them.”
Roman sighs, his response calm and supportive. “I figured you’d say that, and I respect it. I’ll respect whatever you decide to do.” It’s obvious there’s more, that he has additional thoughts, thoughts that he goes on to share. “But Sol, they put you through hell. You deserve this and so much more. It doesn’t change what happened, but maybe with this, you can do something good.”
Solana listens to him. Listens to the valid points he makes. This money most definitely doesn’t take back any of the horrors she experienced at the hands of those men, but the money….the money could be used for something, as Roman pointed out, good.
A thought crosses her mind, as she suggests almost tentatively, “Like starting a college fund for the girls?”
Roman’s smile is small and slightly amused. “I don’t think we need to worry about paying for college, Sol.”
Fair. Sometimes, Solana forgets her husband is an actual billionaire.
A similar thought arises. "Or what about my schooling?"
"No." He shoots that down almost immediately. "I'm paying for that for you." Which makes sense, yes, but if she can afford it now with all this money, why not?
Roman shakes his head. “Just take some time and think about it,” his encouragement is gentle. “That and what you want to do with the house, too….”
Her eyebrows furrow. “The house?” Roman says nothing, but the way his expression softens almost sympathetically is all the answer she needs.
“Oh…..”
The house she grew up in. The house that holds so many memories. Good. Bad. Some unidentifiable space in between.
Yeah... she most definitely has to think about that.
“Okay.” A quiet, single word of agreement. Roman leans forward and kisses her temple, his hand settling over her stomach.
His conciliatory touch is conjoined with a gentle, “let’s get ready.”
—----
The meeting with Darnell takes place at a restaurant. One Roman had cleared out just for this reason. A meeting she's instantly regretting the moment she walks in, her husband close by her side.
Her eyes land on the table where the other man sits, nervously bouncing his leg up and down. She takes a brief second to search his face, searching for any signs of similarities.
Nothing stands out to her.
And when they're close enough to him, Darnell also stands up and sets his focus on her, his eyes widening and instantly softening as he takes her in, studying her from top to bottom. Solana diverts her gaze and unconsciously leans into Roman’s solid, protective frame.
“Wow….” He finally speaks, volume barely above a whisper. “You….you look so much like her.”
Solana says nothing. What once would be considered a compliment is now a thing that only further confuses her muddled emotions.
He moves to take a step forward, but Roman is already on it. “That’s fucking close enough.”
It’s appreciated, the parameters being set for her as Solana continues to go back and forth with herself regarding if this was a good idea or not.
The answer changes from moment to moment.
Disappointment flashes in his face, but he says nothing, simply nodding as he retakes his seat.
It’s only then Solana speaks again, not to her biological father, but to her husband. Turning around, having to remind herself to be mindful of her interactions with him, she simply states, “I’m okay.”
Roman’s fierce gaze switches from Darnell to herself. An unspoken ‘are you sure?’. She nods, smile small but voice firm. “I’ll be okay.”
Bloodline security surrounds the place. Bautista is right outside the door. Darnell would have to be an idiot to try anything.
Especially with Roman present.
Roman’s disagreement is noticeable, Solana opting to place her hand on his chest, quietly repeating, “I’ll be okay.”
And it’s on this final reiteration that it locks and settles in for him. Roman gives her a small nod of acknowledgement, then turns his icy stare on Darnell, an unspoken threat and promise of violence should he try anything.
“I’ll be outside,” Roman informs. She offers him a final, small smile before he disappears, leaving her alone with Darnell.
Solana takes a deep breath and sits down in the chair opposite him. She doesn’t say anything, and neither does he. Not for a good five minutes at least.
“How?” It’s a practical whisper followed up with a firmer, “how did you find out?”
Solana looks away, partially unsure why eye contact is so difficult. “I found…I found a letter she wrote me explaining….explaining things.” She’s tempted to say everything but ultimately decides against it, as everything has not been explained, hence why she’s sitting across from the man in front of her.
He nods, eyes searching and studying her. “What—what exactly did she tell you?”
A lot. So much. More than one person should have to process and deal with at any given time.
Still, Solana does her best to answer his questions, despite the fact that she only asked for this meeting so she could ask her questions. “How….how she met…..Xavier. How��how she met you…..the….the plan—”
“To leave, right?” All she can do is nod, finally looking over at him to see the devastation painted all over his face. “I never—I never found out…how….how he learned of the plan—”
One of her questions suddenly answered without her even asking. It’s not, however, the answer she was looking for. Granted, it’s obvious someone betrayed them. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that much.
“I have to admit. This….this isn’t how I imagined this conversation going.” A quiet admission filled with undeniable sadness and regret.
Curious, Solana inquires, “how—how did you think it would go?”
He shakes his head. “Not like this.”
Silence
"I've waited....waited so long to meet you, to meet my daughter—"
"Please—please don't call me that." A whispered request, one that makes his countenance dim but something needs. It's bad enough she already feels unwell about this whole thing but him referring to her as that, even if true, it just....it feels too soon.
Continued silence until he speaks again, shattering it.
“Solana…..” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “I—” He stops, pulling out his phone, clicking around, turning it so she can see. One look at the screen, and Solana knows right away what she’s looking at.
Who she’s looking at.
The resemblance is strong and striking. The same smile. Same brown eyes they clearly inherited from her mother. Similar complexions.
This is her brother.
“This….this is Shawn,” she lifts her gaze from the phone to Darnell who wears a small smile. “This is your brother.” Her eyes shut, as he continues to explain what she most definitely has not asked about. “He’s in his second year of residency. Working to become a pediatrician. He just got engaged—”
And because she can’t take it, can’t hold it in any longer, Solana asks. Has to ask. “Where were you?”
If she was looking at him, she’d see the quick and unmistakable way his smile shifts back into a frown. “What?”
From some place, a place unknown, Solana starts to find her voice. Starts to tap into the reasons and emotions that drove her to schedule this meeting in the first place. “You—you knew about me, right?”
There’s an undeniable sadness in his eyes. “From the moment your mother told me about the pregnancy.”
For some reason, that doesn’t help her to feel any better. To settle the influx of emotions rising within her. “And you—you knew that—that the plan failed, that….that she was killed.”
His eyes shut, and he looks away. A quiet, pained, “yes.”
“But that….that I survived, that….that I was still with him, in that—in that house.” Emotion betrays her, stirring and rising, resulting in choppy sentences that somehow manage to alert the man across from her just where she’s going with this.
“Solana—”
“So where were you all these years?” A devastating question that needs, deserves, an answer. “Where have you been?” Betrayal paints her face as she issues her next icy question. “Or were you too busy being a dad to the child you wanted?”
There's a good, solid minute of absolute silence as Darnell clearly works to choose the right words.
“Solana, I always wanted you. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in all these years that I haven’t thought about you, thought about trying to get you, but…..sweetheart.” Solana's nails scrape against the table. Something about that nickname doesn't settle right with her. “There was no way for me to try to take you from him that didn’t put you in danger. If he found out who I was, about me, he’d have no doubt either killed me or you. And then what?” A rhetorical question as he shakes his head. “I couldn’t save you without risking—”
“So you just left me there with that monster—”
“I didn’t have a choice, Solana—” His voice is desperate, eyes pleading. “I—I always hoped he would marry you off to someone, and then maybe I could reach out, and he did, but it was to that other monster Roman—”
And that is when Solana's anger reaches a dangerous level.
Her voice is unwavering and borderline threatening. “Don’t you dare talk about my husband.” She points to the door. “He is the first and only man in my life to not hurt me. To protect me. He protects me the way you should have—”
“Solana—”
“But, you didn’t. You left me to the real monster, and then you want to show up after all these years, showing me pictures of the sibling that I never knew I had, the sibling who I’m sure you gave a good life to, meanwhile, I spent over twenty years in hell—”
“Sol—”
“Do you know how bad it was for me?” Her throat is heavy and chest feels weighed down. “The things—the things they did to me—” Solana's voice breaks. “The things he let people do to me—”
“Sweetheart...." To be fair, Darnell looks sympathetic, but his explanations somehow contrasts that. Seems invalidating. Justifying. "I couldn’t risk losing you, too." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "If I tried to take you from him, he would have killed y—"
“Being dead would have been better than being in that house!” It’s a dark, heavy thing to say, but it’s how she feels. Or, maybe it’s how she feels in this moment. To be fair, she’s feeling a lot of things. A lot of confusing, conflicting, overwhelming things. It’s too much.
This is all too much.
She thought she was ready. She wanted to be ready, but it’s evident by the way her face is warming up and her chest is tightening that she was wrong.
“I can’t do this,” she finally announces. Solana looks over at Darnell whose shoulders drop at her exclamation. “I—I can’t do this right now.”
Solana moves to stand up, but so does he. He also reaches across the table, his hand just centimeters away from touching her. “Solana, please—”
“I—I can try on a different date, but—but—this—it’s too—it’s too much.” She shakes her head, closing her eyes and forcing herself to take a deep breath. It’s only then she recognizes where this is headed. She’s on the path to a panic attack, and for so many reasons, primarily the two lives growing inside of her, she has to get the hell out of dodge.
Darnell circles around the table and finally makes contact, grabbing her forearm. Solana is taken back by the fact that she doesn’t panic or jump at the action, that him touching her doesn’t elicit another layer of anxiety.
Still, she requests, “let me go.”
His voice is dripping with desperation. “Ten minutes. I’m just asking for ten—”
“—let me go.”
“—please. I’ve waited for so long—”
“Let me go.”
“—if you—”
“Roman!”
It practically defies logic and the science of how time works, because one minute she’s shouting for her husband, a natural thing that comes to her in the space of this fear, and the next, he’s back in the room, roughly barking at her father to get away from her. Solana reaches for Roman, grabbing his arm, redirecting his attention back to her instead of Darnell who’d stepped back, hands up in a defensive manner.
“I just wanna leave,” she whispers, Roman moving his hands to her face, clearly assessing for any sign of injury. “P–please.”
Roman nods, ushering her out of the restaurant, but not before he issues a cold, steel warning to Darnell.
“Stay the fuck away from her.”
Solana doesn’t know if she agrees with that. If she wants, overall, for Darnell to leave her alone. There’s still so much for them to discuss, but as of right now, mentally, it’s not something she’s ready for. Not something she can handle. So, for now, distance is the best thing.
Only time will tell if that changes.
—-------
Solana is dangerously close to calling off the whole thing. From backing away from the plan to inform the rest of Bayley/her family of the kinship. The meeting with Darnell messing with her so much that Roman has to stay with her for the rest of the afternoon given her spiked anxiety. He’d asked if she needed him to call Gayle for an appointment, but she turned it down, leaning on her coping skills learned in therapy as well as his support.
She’s not entirely sure what she expected to hear or how the meeting would go, but her reaction and how deeply it impacted her definitely took her by surprise. And, if she’s being completely honest with herself, anxiety isn’t the only emotion that came out of that meeting.
Jealousy.
Jealousy is something she also left with, jealousy that a sibling, her twin, of all people got to live a normal life. Probably got to do all of the normal things that kids should be able to do. Darnell probably taught him how to ride a bike.
Xavier once pitched hers into the street and rolled it over in front of her because she didn’t clean the house “good enough.”
He probably got to have playdates with friends.
Solana went to maybe one or two, each one ending with Xaxier screaming at and beating her mom for allowing her to do so.
He probably went to homecoming and prom.
Solana spent both of those in the ER from injuries sustained from Xavier and Wes’s beatings.
He’s a doctor.
Solana is just going for her bachelors at 29.
There’s just so much unfairness. Her twin lived the best life while she was stuck in the depths of hell.
And no, it’s not his fault, because he was a child just like her. But, that doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s jealous that this sibling received the life she deserved and angry at her father for not saving her and giving her that same kind of life.
“Hey.” Bayley’s kind voice and soft voice pull Solana from her inordinate thoughts. “You still thinking about that meeting?”
Solana nods. Hard not to. “It just….it wasn’t what I hoped it would be.”
Bayley presses her lips together before offering. “I get that, and I hate that for you, too, but just because that didn’t go well, doesn’t mean that this won’t.” She places down the brush she was using to set Solana’s face with powder. “Solana…” Bayley joins their hands, eye contact unwavering. “You are family. They’re not going to be upset or deny you or turn you away. They’ll have questions, maybe, sure. But, it’s not going to be this massive, hurtful thing. If I had any feeling it would be anything but accepting, I would be trying my damn hardest to talk you out of this. But, I don’t, so I’m not.” Bayley lifts one hand to touch up an unruly strand that’s shifted from the bangs she cut for her cousin not even an hour earlier. "Everything's going to be okay.”
The words are helpful. Immensely. And so greatly appreciated. More than Bayley could ever know. Especially following the day Solana has had.
“Thank you,” she whispers. Solana also manages a smile. “It—it means a lot to me.”
Bayley makes a sound. “Don’t mention it, prima.” Bayley grabs the brush once more, dusting it over Solana’s nose before assessing her work. “I must say, while the canvas is breathtaking, I do some damn good work.” She steps to the side allowing Solana a final view of the finished product. “What do you think?”
Solana thinks and feels a lot of things looking at her reflection.
Different.
It looks and feels like a different person. The bangs framing her forehead, brushing the top of her eyebrows and somehow highlighting the beautiful gold eye look Bayley did for her. Bayley’s magic continues and spreads from the highlight atop her cheek, the red lipstick on her full lips, even to the red, floral dress Solana is wearing. Initially something she thought a bit too revealing but something her cousin talked her into.
The emotion is undeniable as she finds herself almost unable to look away from herself. “I love it.” She turns to Bayley, standing up from the chair and pulling her in for a hug. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll invoice that rich ass husband of yours.” Bayley’s comments makes Solana laugh and helps her to push back the tears. She can’t ruin this stunning face. “Speaking of….”
The two break apart, and Solana sets her gaze on her husband who’s just walked in.
Naturally, she studies the way his eyes widen slightly when he sees her. “Damn…”
Giggling, Solana walks over to him and moves her hands to his chest, asking almost nervously, “do you like it?”
She hadn’t told him about the plan to modify her dyed hair yet again by cutting bangs, wanting to surprise him. He just thought she was going to Bayley’s salon for the two to get ready together. And while that definitely happened, this happened as well.
“I love it,” he finally answers, his eyes sweeping her over. “You look beautiful, Sol.” It doesn’t matter how many times he says it, it never gets old. Never fails to make her heart swell and stomach flutter.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, and turns her head when he goes to kiss her, reminding with a giggle, “don’t mess up my makeup!”
He makes a sound and kisses her neck, murmuring, “I’d mess up a hell of a lot more if I could.” His big hand snakes down to grab her ass, prompting her to lightly push on his chest.
“Behave,” she scolds, unable to deny there’s a part of her that feels the same. Pelvic rest is absolutely necessary, at least for another week or two, but the lack of that type of intimacy between them, the inability to have it has been….something, to say the least.
Needing a distraction, she turns to Bayley while speaking to Roman. “She did an amazing job, didn’t she?”
However, it’s only then Solana sees the way Bayley rolls her eyes, not at her statement, but at Roman who is also now looking with utter boredom.
Shoulders dropping, Solana realizes it’s time to address this issue.
“Guys.” She pulls away from Roman, crossing her arms over her body. “This has to stop.” She looks between them. “I love you both, and I know—I know what happened was hard, and I’ll never stop being sorry for putting you two in that position, but—” She looks at Roman, “Bayley is my cousin,” she then switches her gaze to Bayley, “Roman is my husband.” She shakes her head, asserting, “neither of those facts are going to change. Ever. So, I want, I need you two to drop this. I need us all to be family.” Realizing that may be too much, at least for now, she compromises, “at least be cordial.” An assessing gaze between the two of them reveals some crumbling of steel resolve, prompting her to pull out that card. “For me?”
That does it, both Bayley and Roman looking away, revealing her final play’s success. “Fine.” Bayley is the first to speak. “I’ll try to be nicer to him.”
Roman looks like he’s almost in physical pain as he forces out a steel, “same.”
Bayley scoffs. “Like you know how to be nice to anyone other than Sol—”
“Don’t fucking push it—”
“Guys,” Solana cuts in, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please.”
Muttered, reluctant ‘sorry' from both of them as she shakes her head. There’s still a ways to go, but it’s a start.
One issue tackled. Sort of.
Another major one left to go.
—------
Sitting in front of them shouldn’t be so intimidating. Shouldn’t have her tapping her foot on the floor, her attention briefly diverting to thoughts of Roman. To wondering if she should have had him stay instead of standing outside. Solana does her best to remind herself of why she initially told him that. She can do this and is capable, and she doesn’t need her husband right beside her to feel his support.
Especially when she’s got Bayley right next her.
“Thank you for—for meeting with me.” The second meeting of the day, this one, hopefully, going much better than the one from earlier. “I—I don’t know how much Bayley told you.”
Juanita offers a small smile. “Just that you needed to speak with us about something….in private.” She gestures around the vacant restaurant, the only other bodies present are the ones back in the kitchen, preparing for the night’s event.
Santos says nothing, his gaze watchful and studying. Bayley’s recommendation for him to be included and invited to this “reveal” was something she was unsure about, Roman definitely against, but something she eventually agreed to given Bayley’s valid points. He’s technically Solana’s cousin too, Melina’s partner and the father of their child, not to mention the tension that exists between him and Roman. With all the connections they share, prior to even officially meeting, it makes sense to start easing into that transition now.
And truth be told, from the moment Santos walked into the restaurant and shook her hand and just from the little she’s seen, Solana can see why he and Roman don’t get along. It’s probably the same reason Roman is indifferent, borderline hostile to his brother.
They’re too much alike.
Santos exudes a strong, commanding, almost mysterious presence similar to her husband. But, there’s that almost charismatic element to him that reminds her of Matteo.
She can only hope the three of them being under the same roof tonight won’t bring about anything bad.
Returning to the conversation at hand, at Juanita’s statement, Solana nods and nervously clears her throat. “I’m sorry if it was any inconvenience—”
“Not at all,” Bernardo dismisses with a wave of his hand. “We are curious what this is about though.”
A fair statement. One Solana knows only she can handle.
She takes a deep breath. “I—I love to write. I—I always have. It’s—it’s something I inherited from my mother. We used to—we used to write to each other all the time.” Solana prepares to take another deep breath when Bayley places a comforting hand on her knee. Solana offers a small, appreciative smile.
It’s the subtle, non-verbal reminder she needs.
She nods to herself. “It’s—it’s a long story, but I was….I was sorting through her journals and putting them away in my library at my home, and I—I came across a letter she wrote me before—” Emotion catches her, Solana’s voice wavering slightly. “Before she was killed.”
Her fingers taps against the exposed skin on her thigh, as if going to reach for the letter. A letter she opted to not share in its entirety. Just the portions that confirm her mother’s true identity.
Solana then moves to grab the papers out of her purse, handing them over. In a low voice, she directs, “you—you can read for yourselves.”
All three wear confused expressions, but Bernardo is the one to accept the two pages, Santos and Juanita nearing closer to also gain visual access.
Meanwhile, Solana goes to pick at the material of her dress when Bayley shifts her hand, placing it over hers. Another nod of support, her warm brown eyes converting every bit of, “it’s going to be okay.”
Solana squeezes her hand, telling herself the same thing.
It’s going to be okay.
A minute or two passes before the first sound of response.
“Mio Dios…..” It’s Bernardo, and he has a closed fist covering his mouth as his wide, emotional eyes lift to Solana. “You’re Alma’s daughter?”
Juanita gasps, eyes watering. “She had a child?”
Santos looks between her and the letter, as if trying to make the connection. “How? Is it—is it just you? Are there any other children she had?”
It’s difficult to breathe, let alone respond, but Solana finds it in her to do so. “I—I apparently have a twin brother—” More gasps of shock, as she explains, “I don’t—I didn’t know until the letter. There’s a lot more in there, and it’s all so confusing, and I know it’s a lot just what you read, so if you need time—”
“No.” Again, Bernardo is the one to speak, his tone firmer. “For years, we’ve wondered what happened to my niece. Ricardo—he died of a broken heart after losing your mother, he died not knowing what happened to his only daughter. We’ve all lived with that grief, and now here you are, have been here all this time….” He stops, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry we didn’t—we couldn’t do anything to help her. To help you.”
It’s an unexpected ending that has her eyes watering. Solana replies with just as much emotion. “You—you didn’t know.”
“But, we know now,” Juanita says, wiping at her eyes. “And now that we have you, that we know who you really are….” She stops, laughing a little, “well, I can’t even call you newfound family, cause you’ve already become that for us.” Solana sniffles, not even realizing she herself has started crying. Juanita's eyes widen as she looks over at her husband. “Paloma—”
He closes his eyes, going to speak again. “Your grandfather, my brother, is no longer with us, but his widow is. Paloma—”
“I know,” Solana interrupts in a quiet voice, unsurprised at their shocked expressions. “My–my husband took me to Isla Mujeres for my birthday a couple months ago, and I—I actually met her.” Her voice breaks again, Solana blotting at her eyes as Bayley hugs her from the side. “I—I haven’t told her because—because I’m scared, and I—I didn’t know if you guys would accept me or believe me.”
“Accept you?” Bernardo echoes. Solana watches as he stands up from his chair and walks over, extending a hand. Unconsciously, she stands up, Bayley releasing her, as Solana accepts it. He gives a small squeeze. “Solana, you are family. My great niece. Mi familia.”
What happens next is unexpected, and months prior, could have easily sent Solana spiraling and triggered the absolute hell out of her.
Bernardo pulls her into a hug, holds her, his hand cradling the back of her head. And Solana doesn’t panic, doesn’t freeze, doesn’t feel triggered. She feels safe. The comforting, almost parental, fatherly embrace is all so unfamiliar but nice.
It’s such an interesting dichotomy. With Darnell, Solana found explanations. With Bernardo and company, she’s finding empathy. Sympathy. And it’s not really until this moment that she’s realizing maybe she wasn’t looking for answers from her biological father as much as she was looking for comfort. For validation.
For this.
Pulling away, she wipes at her eyes, laughing when Juanita pulls her into a hug that’s even tighter.
Motherly.
Releasing her, Juanita blots at Solana’s eyes as Santos crosses his arms, taking in the sight.
“So, the great Solana Reigns all my family kept raving about is actually also family,” he says with a small chuckle. Solana turns to him, lips pressed together, listening and watching closely. “Well, welcome to the Escobar family.” His eyes narrow just a bit. “You know what this also means, right?”
“No.” Solana gasps, turning around to see her husband whose intense gaze is on Santos, Bayley standing not too far behind him with her arms crossed. She'd clearly went to get him, to invite him back inside. “Tell me.”
Naturally, Solana walks over to Roman, holding onto his arm, his gaze never once leaving Santos.
Bayley's cousin, err, Solana’s cousin, however, doesn’t even bother to look Roman’s way. “You’re an Escobar. That means you're under the protection of the Legado Del Fantasma. The Cartel as well.”
Solana frowns. She’s heard through Bayley and even brief mentions from Jimmy and Jey about the Legado Del Fantasma, but the Cartel? That’s…..news to her, to say the least. But juxtaposed to her confusion is Roman’s anger.
Solana has to subtly tighten her grip on his arm as he moves forward, growling, “Solana is Bloodline.”
“She’s Bloodline by marriage,” Santos corrects, swiftly. “She’s Del Fantasma by blood.”
Bayley steps forward, breaking her silence and also the pending standoff. “So basically, Solana has protection on both sides. Through family and marriage."
It’s such a strange thing. To go from being unprotected and subjected to all kinds of horrors for years into this space where the protection is abundant. Being told she is under the protection of two of the most feared crime syndicates in this hemisphere, maybe the world, is….something, to say the least.
“She doesn’t need your protection,” Roman cuts in, his voice steel, Solana wishing she could do more to comfort and calm him right now. “I don’t need anyone’s help to keep my wife safe.”
Thankfully, the role of peacemaker is taken up by her tía.
Juanita speaks up. “Let us not do this right now. This is a happy occasion. I won’t have it ruined by ego and pride.” She looks between Roman and Santos. “We will have a nice, celebratory night.”
It’s the ‘celebratory’ that reminds Solana of her stipulation, if you will. “I—I’d prefer this…this stay between us.” She motions around the room, adding, “until I—I can tell Paloma.”
Bernardo nods, agreeing. “It shall remain between us, sobrina nieta.”
The term. Great niece. It warms Solana’s soul, returns the smile on her face.
Familia.
Family.
—--------
Roman feels out of place.
Truth be told, he’s always felt a bit out of place. But, especially in this setting, because as guests arrive and as Solana socializes and speaks with what she now knows to be her family, he just sits at the table, watching and surveying. A normal thing for him, especially considering none of these people are his friends and family.
Except then Jimmy and Naomi arrive, Naomi invited by Bayley and Jimmy naturally tagging along. And that initial exchange is awkward, but Jimmy reminds Roman that while he has his moments, he knows when to leave shit at the door.
“I know a lot is going on, but tonight ain’t about that.” Was Jimmy’s “surrender” statement of the evening.
Before he went to go see what food he was ordering.
Some things never change.
Regardless, Roman feels a bit better seeing Dwayne, is slightly surprised to see Ava, who’d he previously spoken to and settled his issues with regarding her interference. But, it’s when Matteo arrives with his wife and children that it really hits Roman.
Two boys and a little girl. His biological niece and nephews. And Roman hasn’t a single fucking clue how to feel about that, doesn’t know what to feel seeing the way Matteo is attentive to both his wife and kids while still maintaining that dangerous aura about him.
He smiles and even laughs with his little girl, slaps his wife’s ass, and high fives his sons all while never coming across as weak.
He balances it all so well from the outside looking in, something Roman feels at a complete loss to.
Especially as he watches his wife. Solana, kind and loving, is all smiles and laugh. Matteo’s children seem to naturally gravitate to her, same with the other children in attendance. Like Melina and Santos son. Another business man who manages to tend to his family while maintaining his reputation.
Meanwhile, Roman can’t even think about fatherhood without feeling all fucking weird.
It’s miserable.
And, it’s not even just them, even fucking Jimmy is going around the restaurant calling people “cousin this” and “tia that.” People he met less than an hour ago. Is singing some Selena song on karaoke with Bayely and Solana even though he doesn't know a lick of Spanish and sounds like Lucille fucking Ball.
Still, he just blends.
They all do.
Jimmy.
Matteo.
Dwayne and Ava even, striking up conversations with people.
And Roman is just…..there.
And that’s when the overthinking hits him. Is this how it’s going to be for him as a father? This emotionally unavailable person who can’t even connect with people on a basic level. Who has to rely and depend on his wife to fulfill his kids; emotional needs, cause Lord knows he can’t.
Solana even tries to get him to dance with her, comes to sit on his lap and talk with him for a few minutes. And he declines in the subtle way he must use to avoid giving off any indication of what she means to him. And she understands, he knows she does, but it doesn’t make him feel any better.
Especially when he sees Matteo dancing with his wife, sees Solana playfully interacting and dancing with his biological niece. People she just fucking met and is already almost bonded with.
Something Roman is starting to think he can never have or achieve.
Even with his own children.
Stepping away is a bit of necessity. He needs to not be surrounded by it all, by the taunts and reminders.
Reminders of what he can never have.
Roman stands outside, in the back patio portion of the restaurant, leaning against the brick wall, thoughts all over the damn place.
“I know your ass is getting old, and I’m just over the hill, but even I know all the fun is happening inside.”
Dwayne’s voice, playful and teasing, pulls Roman from his thoughts as he looks over at his cousin who sports a beer in one hand.
Roman chuckles, looking off over the terrace. “You know this isn’t my setting.”
“And yet you’re still here,” Dwayne assesses, knowingly. He steps closer, asking, “why?”
An easy answer. “You really think I was about to let her be here by herself? Around Escobar?”
That’s another thing sitting on and weighing on him. He’s happy Solana has discovered her family. She deserves that. He’s just unsure how he feels about Solana suddenly belonging to and, rightfully, having protection from an organization he can’t control.
He’d heard whispers that Legado Del Fantasma was rooted in the Cartel, that there were connections there, some even being through Santos father. But, the Cartel has always been notorious about keeping identities for certain factions and members a secret. Helps them keep an advantage.
Similar to the Bloodline.
But, hearing it confirmed is something different, and Roman is now wishing he’d have not pushed off those meetings with Cartel representatives to see about forming an alliance or something of the sort.
It sure as hell would be helpful right about now.
Dwayne makes a face. “According to Jimmy, that’s her family though.”
At that, Roman’s gaze hardens. “What?”
Dwayne chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. “Don’t worry. He told me not to tell anyone.”
“I’m trying to figure out how the fuck he kn—” Roman stops himself, pinching his nose. It’s always something. “Yes, turns out Solana and Bayley are—”
“Cousins, right?”
Ava’s voice cuts in at the same moment Roman’s blood pressure skyrockets.
“How the fuck do you know?” He asks, already knowing the damn answer.
Ava shrugs, also with a beer in hand. “Jimmy.” Roman looks away, absolutely needing to count to ten to keep from killing his damn cousin. “But, don’t worry, he told me—”
“Not to tell anyone. Yeah, I know.” Roman runs his hand over his face, needing to count to ten, something Lita had brought up to help when his anger starts to rise. It sounded stupid as hell at the time but may be necessary at this moment.
This is why he fucking hates people.
Ava rolls her eyes. “Look, I’m only out here cause Solana asked me to check on you.”
Dwayne makes a sound. “She asked me, too.”
Hearing that somehow calms Roman a bit, reminds him of why he needs to get his shit together. For Solana. Tonight is supposed to be about and for her. She doesn’t need to be worrying about him, especially in her condition.
“I’m fine.”
“Bullshit,” Ava and Dwayne say in sync. Roman rolls his eyes. The two of them at one time is a kind of stressor he doesn’t need right now. He appreciates them both, but he’ll always appreciate solitude more.
Especially when he needs to think.
Especially….especially when he doesn't have Fetu to talk to any more.
“Just thinking about shit,” is the answer Roman settles on. It’s not very telling. At all. But, it’s an answer nonetheless.
“Well, can’t say we didn’t try.” Ava shrugs, sipping more of her beer as she lowers her voice. “Hey, what’s the update on the…..ya know?”
No. Roman doesn’t know, and he asks as such. “What?”
Ava sucks her teeth and punches him on the arm. “Don’t be a dumbass. You know what I’m talking about.” His face must indicate his continued confusion as she murmurs something in Samoan. “For Solana?”
At the same time, both Dwayne and Roman are clued in.
“Oh shit, yeah,” Dwayne says first, rolling his shoulders. “You still gotta let me know the dress code.”
“Anything but white. Duh.” Ava suddenly second guesses herself, looking over at Roman for approval. “Right?”
Roman’s answer is multifaceted. “I don’t know.” And before his annoying ass cousins can get on his ass, he clarifies. “I don’t—I don’t know if I’m still doing it.”
Both wear shocked expressions, but Dwayne is the first to comment. “The fuck you mean you’re not doing it? You have to, brother.”
Ava’s expression softens. “Roman, you know….you know it’s what Fetu would want.”
Roman looks away, knowing. Knowing that Ava is right. Fetu was so excited to attend, to be a part of it, and while her absence will kill him, he also knows his aunt would probably take a break from terrorizing people in the afterlife to haunt him if he doesn't go through with it.
“I will. I just….I think I have to change the timeline.”
“Change the timeline?” She shakes her head, protesting. “No. Roman, the dates you chose are literally perfect. What’s better than Christmas and Valentine's Day?”
Dwayne gestures to Ava with his thumb. “She’s right. Women love that romantic shit.”
Roman closes his eyes, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he mulls over what he’s about to say, if he should. He knows what Solana said, but something tells him she wouldn’t care in this moment. That she’d be okay with it.
Which is why he goes on and says it.
“Solana’s pregnant.”
A loud gasp from Ava and dropped mouth from Dwayne. “Oh my God, seriously?” Ava asks in a voice of almost awe. “Holy shit, Roman, congratulations.”
A strange sense of pride fills him at the response, a stark contrast to the confused, conflicting feelings he has towards everything else regarding this pregnancy.
“It’s about goddamn time,” Dwayne claps him on the shoulder, pointing out, “was starting to worry you were going to fuck up our family’s reputation for being fertile as fuck.”
Roman rolls his eyes. “This coming from the man who swore off kids.”
Dwayne shrugs. “Ehh. My offspring are better served swallowed.”
Roman cracks a small smile as Ava looks utterly disgusted.
“I fucking hate men,” she spits, glare switching to something inquisitive. “How far along is she?”
“Two months,” Roman answers. Solana is closer to three months than anything, but that specific of an answer seems unnecessary. “But, I don’t—I don’t know if she’ll want to do that while pregnant.”
Ava seems to be doing the math Roman himself did when coming to his decision. “I mean, if she’s two months now, she’ll be due in May, and if you do it in February, that’ll put her at like, what, six months?” Ava shrugs. “She’ll definitely be showing, but—”
“It’s—” Roman cuts in, unsure why his voice is low, weighed down with something indistinguishable. “Twins. She’s—she’s having twins.”
Ava’s eyes double in size. “Oh shit, okay.”
Dwayne makes a low whistle sound. “Two at the same fucking time? Your ass is about to be knee deep in baby shit and piss.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Ava dismisses, voice switching to something more serious again. “I can get why you’re thinking of putting it off, but honestly….I think you should still stick with the original plan and timeline. Pregnant or not, Solana is gonna love it, regardless.”
He says nothing, trying to push away the negative, doubtful thoughts. When the idea first came to him, while he was trying to figure out what to do for her birthday, he was certain of it. Certain that it would definitely be something she’d appreciate. And as he worked out the specifics, bouncing ideas off Fetu, even Ava, navigating the logistics with Dwayne, it all seemed to be coming together almost perfectly.
And then things started to fall apart and unravel, and while they’ve been working hard to put everything back together. There’s still work to be done, and progress to be made.
A pregnancy.
That’s really the biggest thing that’s had Roman second-guessing himself. If Solana would still be as happy and appreciative if he were to do this while she’s with child, and there’s always going to be some doubt, but Ava’s words help to settle some of the indecision.
A lot of it, actually.
“I’ll think about it,” is the answer he settles on. “You already know this shit—”
“Stays between us,” Dwayne finishes. “Well aware.” There’s a gleam in his eyes, something similar to concern. “Are you sure you’re al—”
“Hey.”
The cousins are interrupted by another voice, another person. Matteo.
And he looks irritated.
“You might want to get in here.”
There’s something about Matteo’s expression and the almost concern in his voice that makes Roman the first to head that way, his cousins shortly behind him.
His stride is purposeful, the Tribal Chief heading back into the restaurant where he immediately sees and knows why Matteo called for his attention.
“Son of a bitch…..”
Roman is focused solely on his wife, on the way she's almost sandwiched between Naomi, Afia, Bayley, and now Ava, all of the women watching closely as Jimmy stands in front of Jey, arms up as if trying to block him from entering farther into the restaurant.
And it’s as Roman gets closer, he can see why Jimmy is trying to restrict his twin.
The smell of liquor radiates off Jey’s frame. Once in the vicinity, Roman doesn’t have time to acknowledge his wife who he can feel looking at him.
“What the hell are you doing here, Jey?” Roman’s question is calmly and coldly delivered, his fist at his side clenching and unclenching because what the fuck?
Jey’s glazed eyes fall on him as he makes a sound. “Ah,h shit, there he is, Mr. Tribal Chief himself.”
Jimmy glances at Roman. “I got this, Roman.”
“Obviously, you don’t,” Roman snaps, refocusing on Jey. “You need to leave.”
Now. Immediately. He shouldn’t even be there in the first damn place.
Jey makes a sound and snatches his arm away from Jimmy. “Man, I ain’t going nowhere. This some b–bullshit. Ya’ll tryna—tryna ice me out and shit!”
“Jey.” Roman turns to see Solana has stepped forward, Afia and Bayley both watching Roman's drunk ass cousin the whole time, as if wanting to see if he’s going to do anything. Protectively, almost. Naomi, however, just looks so frustrated with it all. Understandably so. “That’s not—”
“Oh look!” Jey’s volume increases. “It’s—it’s the queen herself! The one who—who started all this shit!” He smiles and laughs, Roman rolling his neck, sensing Matteo and Dwayne who now stand closely behind him. Also protectively. “Shit, Soso, I used to think—to think me and you was—was cool.”
“That’s enough, man,” Jimmy’s stern voice is conjoined with him once again trying to guide his brother out the restaurant. “This ain’t the time or place.”
“It certainly isn’t.” Santos joins in, Roman not missing the men that move behind him, clearly ready and waiting. He looks over at Roman, nodding, “get him out of here, or we will.”
It’s a threat. Obviously. Clearly. And Roman can’t even be upset with it. Jey coming on neutral territory trying to start some shit is unacceptable.
Embarrassing
“I ain’t going n–nowhere—”
“The hell you aren’t.” Roman turns to see Dwayne walking past him, bypassing Jimmy as he aggressively grabs Jey by the collar of his shirt. “You’re fucking embarrassing yourself, Jey.”
Jey’s inebriation is even more evident as he goes to take a poorly aimed swing at Dwayne who easily dodges as such, instead taking the opportunity to spin Jey around and start pushing him out. “Let’s go,” he barks, Jimmy moving behind him, trying to talk some sense into his hotheaded twin.
“Man! Fuck ya’ll! I got something for all ya’ll asses!”
It’s that last sentence that makes Roman’s jaw clench. Whatever leash Jey had on his temper all these years has clearly been dropped. Roman hasn’t seen his cousin this reckless since they were in their twenties.
But, as soon as Santos steps forward, inches away from Roman, Matteo moving to stand directly beside his brother, Roman already knows what’s about to be said. “Anything fucking happens on this territory—”
“I’ll handle it,” Roman asserts. He’s pissed, livid, and not even at the man before him. Santos is doing what anyone in that position would do. Reminding a potential enemy what potential consequences await should anyone be stupid enough to try anything.
Someone stupid like Jey.
Santos simply nods, saying something in Spanish causing his men to disperse.
“Jey’s becoming a problem.” Matteo speaks in Italian, clearly wanting the umbrella of privacy. Roman turns to look at him. “This can’t continue.”
Roman hates being told what he already knows, but there’s something in this that makes him simply agree. “I know.”
“Roman.” He looks down to see Solana now on the other side of him, realizes she’s holding onto his arm, looking up with eyes that give away what she wants before even saying anything. “Let’s go. home”
And just like that, the anger slips into guilt. Guilt that what was supposed to be a nice night for her has turned into this shitshow. Looking around, he sees the crowd has dispersed, Naomi nowhere to be seen as Bayley and Afia talk amongst themselves. The band resumes the music, and it appears as if they’re trying to resume like nothing happened. But, something did happen, and it’s ruined whatever enjoyment Solana was having.
Fuck.
“Solana—”
“It’s fine,” she interrupts, voice low and almost subtle. God, he fucking hates this. “Let’s—let’s just go….please.”
It’s that last word that pulls him over. “Alright.”
She gives a small nod of appreciation and turns to walk away, clearly to tell everyone goodbye, starting with Bayley and Afia and the latter’s kids who have come hovering near their mother.
“So….” Matteo speaks again, crossing his arms over his chest. “How are you going to handle this?”
Roman just looks at him and says nothing.
He says nothing because he has no idea.
He has no idea how he’s going to handle this.
—----------
The drive home is mostly silent, not much conversation transpiring between husband and wife. Once in the safety of their humble abode, Solana works to get Dulce settled as Roman heads straight to the shower, eventually finding himself sitting outside, wanting, almost needing the distraction of the beautiful night sky.
But, it’s after Solana has also showered, she finds and joins him on the balcony of their master bedroom. Wordlessly, she climbs onto his lap, hands to his face, her eyes and voice pleading. “Talk to me.”
Roman closes his eyes, saying nothing, prompting her to clarify, “and don’t try to say it was the Jey situation. You….you were off before that even happened.”
“It didn’t help,” he mutters. An honest thing. Roman needs to figure something out, because Jey’s behavior tonight was unacceptable. It was embarrassing. Embarrassing to him, but more importantly, embarrassing to the Bloodline.
And as the Tribal Chief, Roman can’t have that. Thus, he needs to find a way to resolve this shitshow. And fast.
He opens his eyes, looking directly at her. “Solana—”
“Roman.” Her voice is firmer, her gaze never leaving him. “The truth.”
It’s difficult to lie to her. Always has been. It was just what he felt he needed to do at certain points, but in this moment, in a stark contrast to prior ones, he almost doesn’t want to. He wants to get this off his chest.
So, he does.
With a heavy sigh, Roman does his best to explain all of the many things he’s been feeling the past few weeks. “Solana, I don’t—I don’t know how to do it.”
She frowns, her thumb brushing over the apple of his bearded cheek. “Do what, baby?”
His jaw tightens. “Be a father.”
Roman sees it. Sees the way her shoulders drop, sees the sadness in her eyes. “Ro….”
“I watched you tonight. I watched how you…..you connected with everyone. Connected with the kids. It’s—natural for you.” Roman closes his eyes, the words continuing to roll out almost autonomously from this place of rare vulnerability. “You’re a good person, Solana. You—you have a heart. A big heart. You were made to be a parent. A mother. I don’t—I don’t think I was made to be—”
“Don’t,” she cuts him off, her voice a perfect mixture of emotion and conviction. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that, Ro.” Her eyes are watering as she gives him an emotional smile. “Roman, you have a heart, too. A big heart. You just….you’re not allowed to show it as much as I do, not in public at least, because of who you are. But, I see it all the time, I feel it all the time when we’re together.” She shakes her head, moving her hand to push back some of his hair. “I always feel so loved with and by you, and that’s exactly what our girls are going to feel.”
He swallows. “Solana—”
“What kind of father are you in your dreams?”
A valid, fair question that takes him back. Roman starts to protest, starts to push back on her, but there’s a fiery determination in her gaze that tells him doing so won’t do anything but make her push back on him even more.
He thinks about it, finally answering, almost reluctantly. “Fine.”
“Bullshit.” Another taken back expression. It feels almost wrong to hear his sweet, innocent wife curse, but she does so without hesitation. “They adore you, don’t they?” He says nothing, sensing she’s not done. “Always want to be around you, and Lina wants to be just like you, huh?”
Right away, he’s hit with flashes of scenes from the collections of dreams he’s had. Smiles. Laughter. Love. All things from two small children who are the perfect combination of himself and Solana.
Twin girls.
Their girls.
Catalina and Cataleya Reigns.
But as quickly as that arrives, reality sets in.
Despite the turmoil within, his hand on the small of her back continues to rub soothing circles that do more for him than her. “Solana, those are just—they’re just dreams.”
“No.” She shakes her head, voice softening to another level. “They’re visions. Visions of our future. Of the lives we’re going to have. Of the family we’re going to have. Of the father you’re going to be.”
“I should feel something though, Solana,” he stresses. “You’re pregnant, and I don’t….I don’t know how to feel about it. I’m not upset, but I’m not….I don’t feel what you do.”
It’s a sad, almost scary, embarrassing thing to admit. To tell his wife that he doesn’t know how to feel about a pregnancy she’s ecstatic about. But, he does. Because he owes her that much.
Owes her honestly.
“That’s okay, Roman.” The surprises continue, because her response, the tone of almost sympathy, are most certainly not what he was expecting. “I know feelings are hard for you, and I know this is a new experience for you. That’s….that’s okay. What’s not okay is you thinking or even believing you can’t do this, because you can. And you don’t have to do it alone. We’re going to do it together.”
Roman inhales deeply, trying his best to let her words penetrate his strong exterior.
And then she continues to show her sainthood, continues to show just how she’s far too good for him. “Roman….” Her eyes shift downward, and so do his. Only then does he realize while one hand is on her back, the other is planted on her stomach. Her hand over his. “I’m—I’m carrying them, so I think….I think that makes that bond stronger, easier even.” Roman doesn’t say anything, but it’s impossible for him to not think about how that’s exactly what Lita had said to him.
“What if I can’t connect with them?” A quiet, almost hushed escapee from that deeply embedded box of fears he keeps tucked away. It consists of only a few things, very few, and that most definitely happens to be one of them. “If I can’t—bond with them like you?”
“You won’t bond and connect with them like I do, because I’m their mother. That relationship between mother and daughters is always going to be different from that of father and daughters. There’s something….something special about that. Something you’ll have with them that I can never have because it’s just different, but I promise you, Roman. It’ll be there, baby.” Solana shifts her body on his lap, leaning into her chest, hugging him, laying her head in the crook of his neck. Naturally, Roman holds her, kissing her temple, thankful for her words, for her support, for her belief in him, for her.
“And maybe…maybe it won’t be now.” She moves her hand up and down his chest, a comforting gesture. “Maybe it won’t really hit for you during the pregnancy, and that’s okay, because I know, the minute you hold them for the first time, it’ll click. You’ll feel it then. Feel that love.”
Love.
Once something that was unfamiliar and foreign to him, now something that overwhelms him with its depth and weight whenever he’s around this woman. And it’s that thought, that thought of how Solana managed to completely turn his life around in the best way possible that convinces him maybe, just maybe, she’s right.
“Thank you.” Another whispered thing that emanates from the deepest part of him. “Thank you, Solana.”
She makes a sound and kisses the underside of his bearded jaw. “Never have to thank me for loving you, Ro.” It’s a natural thing for her at this point. Something that feels like it was always meant to be.
They were always meant to be.
—-------
Blood.
So much blood.
Too much blood.
She has to save him.
Spewing, streaming, bleeding from open, gaping wounds. So many wounds, the blood saturating the dark, bulky armor that he wears. Armor that, no matter how much she tries, she can’t get off him. And she needs to get it off to treat him, to help him, to do what no one else will.
Because no one else is there.
It’s him, and it’s her, and she has to save him.
There is no one else to do so.
But try as hard as she can, for all of her efforts, Solana’s hands and clothes continue to stain red from the blood that continues to pour out of him at an alarming rate, much quicker than anything she’s ever seen, which is how she knows there are several bullet and/or stab wounds
She has to save him.
Her mouth opens, words of desperation and pleas tumbling out as works endlessly to treat him, begs of mercy to God, to whomever, to anyone, to hear her cries. Blood soaked hands that intermittently go to shake him, to keep him from drifting, but she knows this scene. Knows it all too well.
Has seen it play out before.
And, it guts her.
“Stay with me, okay?” She gasps, her chest feeling like it’s about to explode at any moment. “Just—just stay, okay? You’re—you’re gonna be okay.”
He says nothing, has said nothing, just continues to lay there, rendered silent to his injuries. Injuries he’s slowly succumbing to.
“I’m gonna s—s–ave you,” she promises, going back to trying to remove the goddamn armor for him only for it to not bulge once more. She shouts out in frustration, gasping violently, using her forearm to wipe at her eyes. The tears blurring her vision serve as a barrier she can’t afford. “It’s—Roman?” Breathing halts. Time stops. Existence ceases. “R–Ro?” A trembling hands digs through the material covering his neck to feel for his pulse, Solana immediately gasping and snatching back her hand. “N–no.” Solana shakes her head, moving to shake him. “R—Roman, wake up. Please—please wake up—” Her please of mercy are a stark contrast to the empty, vacant look in his eyes. A look she’s only seen once before on the only other day of her life where it all ended.
The day her mother was killed.
The sob escapes from the back of her throat, as she moves her body over his, still trying to shake him awake, refusing to lose him to the devastating grips of fate. “W–wake up!” Her cries echo in the void of the abyss that surrounds him. “You–you can’t leave us. W—wake up!”
“Solana!”
Solana shoots up with a violent gasp, immediately hyperventilating, eyes wide and forward and focused on nothing in general. Not at first, at least. It’s only when Roman hits the light on the nightstand and moves his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks, Solana starts to come down from the shock and into the hysterics.
She moves her hands to his bare chest, feeling around, needing to feel and see for herself.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice finally registers, as she realizes he’s been trying to talk to and calm her down this entire time. “Solana—”
“It felt so real,” she cries, unable to shake the violent imagery away. “You were—” She can barely get the words out, something Roman seems against as he tries to settle, seeing how talking is even more distressing for her. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t save you.”
It’s only then he seems to understand why she’s so upset, knows the content of her dreams, “baby, I’m fi—”
“I can’t lose you,” she gasps, moving her hands to his forearms, holding him. “I can’t lose you, Roman.”
“You’re not going to, Sol,” he vows, hand cradling the back of her head. “Baby, I’m fine. Nothing is going to—”
Solana continues to shake her head, one hand dropping to her stomach. “I can’t—I can’t raise the girls without you.”
“You won’t,” he promises, expression sympathetic. “Solana, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Promise me.” Her voice is sudden and desperate, her eyes wide and filled with tears. “Promise me nothing’s going to happen to you.”
There’s hesitation, only for a second, but not enough to draw her attention. “I promise nothing’s going to happen to me, Solana.”
Words. A sentence. But, it does something for her. Clearly and visibly decreases her spiked anxiety. Solana nods, closing her eyes and moving herself into Roman’s chest as he guides them so that they’re laying back down, her body pressed into his.
Unaware that at the same time Roman tries to comfort his wife, elsewhere across town, various notifications arrive. One a text, the other an answer.
One of departure from one group.
*Jey Uso has left the Operation RoSo conversation*
One informing of arrival into another.
Jey Uso: I’m in.
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Random thoughts from Yingdu episode 4:
-Vein is so creepy toward Cheng Xiaoshi, but I have to admit I chuckled when Xia Fei pointed it out. Like, bro, of course they ran away—you totally freaked them out (literally in Lu Guang’s case lol).
-Extra points for using Vein’s official song during the small fight scene. It’s my favorite track from the trio!
-Lu Guang collapsing from stress makes perfect sense—someone please let this poor man rest. Honestly, I don’t think he’s had a single peaceful day since Cheng Xiaoshi died.
-The nightmare Lu Guang had was just cruel. Cheng Xiaoshi’s bloody ghost telling him he’s all alone, that they’re all dead… Does this mean Qiao Ling and Captain Xiao are definitely dead too?
-Cheng Xiaoshi taking care of Lu Guang was adorable. The fact that he’s so caring despite growing up lonely and lacking basic parental love is just beautiful.
-Xia Fei disliking Liu Xiao totally caught me off guard lol.
-Xia Fei telling Liu Xiao his “predictions were right” is so suspicious. Is it because he’s just waaay too smart, or does he have some hidden power that lets him see outcomes? Something about it feels sketchy.
-The photo snap sound effect when the blue-eyed cat appeared was such a great detail to symbolize Lu Guang observing Cheng Xiaoshi. That… or Lu Guang took an actual photo to keep track of him. This makes more sense lol.
-The way Xia Fei and the bar/restaurant)? owner reacted when Cheng Xiaoshi mentioned Cheng Weimin was WEIRD. I can’t tell if the owner was joking about not knowing him or lying, but their exaggerated reactions were creepy. What the hell did Cheng Weimin do?!
-It’s obvious the only student who survived the fire is the mysterious blonde woman (who I’m pretty sure we see younger in the Episode 5 PV). My guess is she’s around 14 or 15 in that photo, and since Yingdu happens 10 years later, she’d be around 25 now, which kinda fits with what little we’ve seen of her so far.
-Lu Guang pretending to be sick to get Cheng Xiaoshi back to the hotel, only to end up running back to the room himself, was hilarious. Also, shirtless Lu Guang—I bet some of you were happy with that back shot 👀
-Cheng Xiaoshi entering the photo by accident has me so confused. How did his powers suddenly activate like that? What triggered it? Was it purely coincidental that he was looking at a photo and clapped? I really hope they explain this.
-Related to the previous point: if Cheng Xiaoshi already knows he can enter photos on his own, then Yingdu is definitely not the timeline from seasons 1 and 2. He doesn’t learn this until season 1 (aka, approximately two years later) and we even get a small flashback on S1 where we see Lu Guang explaining how to activate his powers by clapping their hands together. That explanation didn’t happen in Yingdu.
-We got a glimpse of Cheng Weimin and a black-haired woman, tho I don’t know if she’s Cheng Xiaoshi’s mother or not)? I also couldn’t tell if she kicked him out of the photo when they made eye contact or if he was forced out by his own body because he was too stressed?? The man he was possessing didn’t die because in the episode 5 PV we catch a glimpse of how his photo changed, now it’s not only the building, but also his burned hand (the one he used to open the doors).
-Finally, Cheng Xiaoshi’s first dive being such a traumatic event? This donghua seriously has every character in desperate need of therapy 💀
#link click#shiguang daili ren#lu guang#cheng xiaoshi#shiguang#yingdu spoilers#liu xiao#vein#xia fei#qiao ling
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i’m so sorry this took me literally ten years to get to,,, but i’m finally here and omg!!! this was SO good!!!! (๐॔˃̶ᗜ˂̶๐॓)
i know you said that this was like the first fantasy thing that you’ve written and WOAH… i need you to write more fantasy immediately. i feel like it suits your writing style so well and i love the worldbuilding you added in this!! i’m so curious about it all like… the veils??? the veil lanterns (which is such a cool name by the way)???? i could read a whole series on this hehe~~ i really hope you write more fantasy in the future!!!
now here’s my messy live reading lmao >_<
“And I hear a giggle. A giggle! It’s gorgeous. Like the first notes of my favorite song.” stop this is so cute
him communicating with her through the water turning gold or teal is so cute and funny😭 i’m trying to imagine it in real life and i just know i’d be lowkey scared if the water i was looking at suddenly started shimmering gold
“The sound of it is intoxicating—like the sound of leaves rustling in the wind or a bird chirping. It warms me from the inside out.” i love this sentence
“She asks, “What does pink mean?” I shake my head to rid my thoughts of her and the water returns to its natural, clear, blue state.” LMAOOOOO
“booming cities absent from flora and fauna, no magic, lifeless but overwhelming at the same time.” lifeless but overwhelming is such a good description of the human world lmao… it really does feel like this
“Eventually, though, she plucks one out of the ground, holding it between her pointer finger and thumb, twirling it between her fingers. “Just one?”” imagine she just downs like five of them and is higher than the sun
“Her gasp breaks the quiet as her eyes fly open, and for the first time, she sees me.” AHHHHHH ITS HAPPENING
“Smiling, I unfold them, letting them catch the sunlight. Iridescent hues of pink and purple shimmer like liquid light. The intricate patterns etched into the delicate surface that scatter rainbows onto the ground below.” imagining that one scene in tinkerbell secret of the wings (aka the best tinkerbell movie ever)
“You’re so…pretty,” she says. “What’s your name?” SOOBINNNNNNNN
“Her eyes stay on me, intense and unblinking, memorizing every detail of my face to hold onto me for just a moment longer. Then I see it, the shift in her expression. Realization dawns like a shadow passing over her, her gaze losing focus.” i’d start sobbing like NOOOO MY SHAYLAAAAA
“She occupies my every waking moment. I’ve started to feel her even when she’s not here—her absence pressing against me like a quiet storm, a warmth that lingers in the air long after she’s gone. Her voice echoes in my mind when it’s silent. Every time our eyes meet, there’s that spark, that electric connection that tells me we’re on the cusp of something extraordinary.” saving space for this beautiful paragraph❤️
“But before the space between us can grow too wide, she reaches out again, her palm settling against my cheek, her thumb brushing over the curve with a tentative tenderness.” HEHEHEHEHEHE now kiss.
““Can I kiss you?” I whisper.” YEAHHHHHHHHH
him being so confused about what a bra and panties are and the point of them are is so cute!! hehe the way she’s just like “well, look at me…” and he’s all laser focused on her is hilarious
“We call them life lace.” THAT NAME IS SO CUTE HELLO????? petition for everyone to start calling them this
“Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me,” I say. “We don’t have much time.” ten minutes, no hair tie.
“Use me,” she whispers. I hum in question. “Use me to make yourself feel good.” #needthat
“Tears pool in the corners of her eyes. I start to reach for her, until I remember I can’t touch her.” NOOOOO
“But I won’t really be here, will I?” she says, her voice cracking. “I won’t ever be in the right state of mind when we’re together.” damnn…
I NEED THEM TO BE TOGETHER AGAIN!!!! LIKE ACTUALLY. and i need them to be happy and never have to worry about the veils again!!! sobs cries screams,,, hp you broke my heart.
look at me — faerie!soobin x fem!human!reader
cw. soobin is a human-sized faerie with wings, chubby!reader has braces but that's rarely mentioned, reader has anxiety, reader needs to be high on shrooms to see/hear/touch soobin (it'll make sense i swear! ((dear god i hope it makes sense at least))), kissing, penetration (protection not mentioned), cunnilingus, nipple stuff, "baby," angsty ending, let me know if i missed anything. note. like i said, reader has to be high on shrooms to see, hear, and touch soobin, so technically they're both on drugs when they have sex, so caution if that makes you uncomfy. and oh surprise, surprise! very self indulgent. AND omg- shout out to the talented @hyukascampfire for brainstorming with me when i was first thinking about this and along the way as well. i've never written anything remotely fantasy so this is new territory for me and i'm super nervous for y'all to read it, especially faerie princess ashlynn. but i hope y'all love it <3 wc. 7.2K
There she is again. Not many humans venture this far out into the woods, but I recognize her every time. Well, I recognize her aura. Typically, humans appear in a dream-like haze—I can make out what they look like and even hear what they’re saying. But when their hearts are weighed down, their aura overwhelms everything, blinding me to their true physical form.
My friends tease me for being so fascinated with humans, but I can’t help it. They’re delightful in their peculiar ways—bringing their lovers and friends for little celebrations, visiting us with their sweet treats and elixirs. They’re so distracted with joy, they hardly notice when we take some for ourselves.
This human is different, though. She’s always alone, shrouded in a deep, stormy grey cloud that darkens every time she returns. For a moment, her aura softens as she rests at the edge of the creek, taking deep breaths while the storm eases into a fragile calm. But it never lasts. Within a week, she returns and the weight she carries seems heavier than before.
Today, she rushes to the creek bed, crouches by the water, and her weeps and cries are the loudest I’ve ever heard. She’s shaking. I creep closer, hoping to make anything out of her cloud, but nothing. Taking a seat on the moss on the other side of the creek, I simply watch her. Her cries crescendo into a gut-wrenching wail and I can’t take it anymore.
I toss a small pebble into the creek, watching as orange flickers throughout her cloud—fear. After another, it turns a muddy blue—curious. It twists and turns in search of something and when she leans toward the water, I summon a gold shimmer into the creek, dancing across the ripples as it catches the light. Her gasp breaks the silence, and for the first time, I hear her voice, distant and fragile.
“Oh my god.”
A grin tugs at my lips. Her cloud has kept her hidden from me all this time, but I just know she’s absolutely adorable. A small pebble shoots out from her direction, falling into the water and I guide it to land right on top of the other two. When she tosses another in, I pause the current entirely, letting the surface hold still. Then, with a flick of my fingers, I release it with a bloop. And I hear a giggle. A giggle! It’s gorgeous. Like the first notes of my favorite song.
“Hello?” She asks and I conjure a ripple in response. “Is someone there?” In the center of the creek, I create a circle of stillness, the current bending around it at my command. Inside it, I make it change color in an attempt to communicate with her. I add the gold shimmer back, trying to tell her—to scream at her—Yes! Yes, I’m here! I’m right here. But her cloud flares orange—panic—and she stumbles back. In a heartbeat, she’s gone, running away from our dell.
Oh no. Shoving the heels of my hands into my eye sockets out of frustration, I shake my head. Oh no.
-
It’s been weeks. Every day, I return to watch the humans, hoping my favorite may return. Perhaps it was overwhelming for her—turning water gold that quickly. Regret gnaws at me as I pick a bit of a raspberry from under my nail from when I was harvesting them earlier. A rustle in the distance snaps me to attention, followed by the solid thud of something hitting the mossy ground.
A human. Not the one I’ve been waiting for, but they catch my eye—curvy and stunning and flipping through a book. After a moment, they put it aside, sitting criss-cross on the creekbank, bending toward the water.
“Hello?” She asks. Wait. I know that voice. I only heard it for a moment, but I’ve been dreaming about it so much recently, I’d recognize it anywhere now. She’s back! And I can see her!
And she’s so incredibly beautiful, I can’t help but stare. I stumble toward the creek bed and she speaks again, “Hello?” I respond with a water ripple.
“Hello, I’m here.” Speaking is useless, but I whisper under my breath anyway.
“Are you the same…thing I was talking to a few weeks ago?” The water slowly turns a gold shimmer and she grins. “Can I ask you some questions?” The gold gets stronger. “Gold means yes?” The shimmer holds steady. “Am I speaking with the water?” I make it turn a deep, murky teal. “Does that mean no?” Gold. “A witch?” Teal. “A ghost?” Teal again. “An angel?” Teal. “A faerie?”
Gold shimmer. I whisper, “Yes, yes,” proud of her for getting it.
“A faerie?” She asks excitedly and I celebrate with her in the form of a water ripple. “Oh wow,” she whispers. “So you can hear me?” Gold. “Can you see me?” Ah, what do I do now? I can’t quite see her yet, but I definitely can see more of her than she can of me.
“Grey?” She’s silent for a moment, humming as she tries to understand. “You don’t know if you can see me?” Teal. “You can kinda see me?” Gold. “I can’t see you at all,��� she mumbles. She looks up again, unsure where to look. “Did you know that?” It stays gold while she chuckles to herself. The sound of it is intoxicating—like the sound of leaves rustling in the wind or a bird chirping. It warms me from the inside out.
“Where are you?” She asks. The current splits into two, flowing against each other and converging in a point aimed directly at me. As she follows the arrow with her eyes to look at me, her cloud clears fully and I can finally see her. For real this time. There’s still that angelic glow that won’t go away until the Veils have been lifted but I’m not so sure I’d want it to go away anyway. She’s absolutely, positively stunning. My breath is taken away. Her smile reaches her eyes and there’s something in her mouth—something I’ve never seen before, shiny and on every tooth.
Her body curves and moves gloriously and she looks irresistibly soft and…sexy. And I don’t use that word often. I want to hold her, touch her, squeeze her, make her feel something, but she can’t even see me. Even if I tried, my touch would be nothing but the whisper of a ghost.
Glancing down, her eyebrows furrow in confusion. She asks, “What does pink mean?” I shake my head to rid my thoughts of her and the water returns to its natural, clear, blue state.
There’s a beat of silence. She awkwardly speaks up, “So, a faerie, huh?” Slowly, the calm pool turns gold again. “I’ve got some books about the Fae.” Bubbles rise in curiosity. “Are you a human-sized faerie?” Gold.
“I think I may be a bit taller than you, though…” I whisper. I’m taller than most everyone in my village, so I can only assume I’m taller than her as well.
“A lot of these books say you all hate humans,” she says matter-of-factly.
The water turns a deep, angry red. “That’s a misconception!” I say with a grumpy giggle. Although, she’s not totally wrong. Most other faeries I know do hate humans, I suppose. I’m not sure why, though—they’re so sweet and cute. Us faeries tend to have a superiority complex. But that doesn’t mean we all have it out for the entirety of the human race.
“Oh,” she says, holding her hands up. “Sorry.” I forgot she can’t hear me, so the water calms itself. “Do you hate humans?” I can’t make it teal fast enough.
We spend hours in our woodland dell together—she watches as I make the water change colors, as I make flowers bloom in patterns, and as I talk with rabbits, asking them to bring me back berries and nuts. The way her eyes light up when I make the peonies bloom makes me feel like nothing else matters. I’d sit here for hours, building and blooming the garden of her dreams if I could—just to make her happy.
“Can I tell you a secret?” She asks, sitting next to me on the creekbank now that we’re on the same side. The water constantly follows me to show her my location.
“Of course,” I respond under my breath, hoping something might leak through into her realm.
“Coming out here and talking to you…” she sighs. “Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy.” She chuckles. “Like, what would someone think if they saw me giggling at the water?” I wish I could shatter the wall blocking her realm from mine, dissolving any of that hesitancy and uncertainty. “But it makes me feel sane. It’s the only time I feel like my world isn’t falling apart.”
She’s told me all about her world—a stressful job, family problems, and constant crippling anxiety. I can’t imagine living in a world like hers. Humans fascinate me, yes, but I avoid the world they’ve created at all costs—booming cities absent from flora and fauna, no magic, lifeless but overwhelming at the same time.
“That’s a new one,” she says, glancing down at the water. When she looks back up, guessing where my eyes are, she asks, “What does silver mean?”
“I’m sad,” I whisper. Almost at the exact same time, like we’re connected at the heart, we say,
“I wish you could hear me.”“I wish I could hear you.”
As she fiddles with the green moss under her legs the water slowly turns a gold shimmer. I want that too. I want to talk to her, to feel her, hug her, kiss her. I want to be hers, to protect her from all that pain in her world. But my heart drops, the water steadily turning a sad silver again. I could never be that for her.
“Why can’t I see you?” She asks, sadness laced in her voice. I conjure a gentle wind, making one of her books fly open, flipping to a page titled, The Fae and Humans: Perception and Interaction. Her head snaps toward the sound, curiosity pulling her closer. Slowly, she crouches and reads aloud, “There is an intricate balance of aural, visibility, touch, and the altered states required to bridge the divide between the Fae and human realms. Understanding the two key thresholds—The Veil of Sight and Sound and the Veil of Touch—are crucial when communicating with the Fae.
“The Veil of Sight and Sound: Faeries exist on a frequency of reality imperceptible to humans. Under normal conditions, human vision and hearing cannot penetrate this Veil; however, certain factors can alter a human's perceptual capabilities. Mild intoxication induced by substances can create a temporary overlap between the human and faerie realms. In this state, humans can see and hear faeries in their true forms.
“The Veil of Touch: Even when humans achieve the rare ability to see and hear faeries, the Veil of Touch presents a further barrier. While perception might align momentarily, the physical matter of faeries and humans does not naturally interact. For touch to occur, a human must enter a deeper altered state—one that further detaches them from their own plane.”
Taking everything in, her lips barely move when she whispers, “Intoxication?” The water points toward a ring of mushrooms nestled at the edge of the creek. Each one has a delicate pearly white cap with faint iridescent streaks that catch the light like oil on water. The ring itself isn’t perfect; they grow unevenly, edges blending with soft moss and fallen leaves. They look relatively ordinary, but those iridescent streaks tell me they’re undeniably veil lanterns, a substance that lifts both veils for humans. Moving closer to the ring of mushrooms, she asks, “If I eat one of these, I’ll be able to see and hear you?” Gold shimmer. “How does it make me feel?”
How do I put this? I make the water swirl in on itself in different directions while it turns different shades of blue and green. It spirals upward into a sphere that hovers for a moment before gracefully falling back to the creek.
“Like I’m floating?” She asks curiously. Gold shimmer. She looks back at the mushrooms, her expression torn between hope and hesitation. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” she says softly, but her hand doesn’t move closer. Eventually, though, she plucks one out of the ground, holding it between her pointer finger and thumb, twirling it between her fingers. “Just one?”
“Just one,” I whisper under my breath as the water turns gold. Popping it in her mouth, I watch the soft aura that still surrounds her physical form turn a pretty relaxed yellow over the course of a few minutes. She talks to me as she lets the mushroom settle in—asking how long it’ll take or what happens if it doesn’t work.
“What if I’ve been making all this up in my head?” She chuckles to herself. “And I’ve been talking to a creek this whole time? How embarrassing would that be?” She rubs her hands over her face, groaning. “I can’t believe this,” she grumbles, curling into herself, her knees pulled tight to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Resting her chin on her knees, she closes her eyes and mutters, “Thinking a creek is talking to me…”
“That does sound a little silly,” I say, my voice light with amusement.
Her gasp breaks the quiet as her eyes fly open, and for the first time, she sees me. The realization washes over her in waves—hesitation, awe, and then a dawning understanding.
“Hello,” I say softly, letting her take me in, her eyes tracing over my entire body.
“Hi,” she breathes. “Where are your wings?” That’s an unexpected first question. Smiling, I unfold them, letting them catch the sunlight. Iridescent hues of pink and purple shimmer like liquid light. The intricate patterns etched into the delicate surface that scatter rainbows onto the ground below.
“Wow…” she whispers in disbelief. She reaches out slowly, her fingertips trembling as they near me. But her hand passes straight through, our realms still worlds apart. Confusion clouds her face and her glassy eyes blink with disappointment.
I shake my head and remind her, “The Veil of Touch, remember?”
“Oh, I need to have another mushroom?” I nod. She hurriedly reaches for one.
“Wait.” She halts and looks up at me. “You should take it easy with those. Let’s just talk. I’ve been dying for you to hear my voice.”
“That’s true.” She looks over at the water, then glances back up at me. “You’re so…pretty,” she says. “What’s your name?”
“Soobin.” Then she tells me her name. “We can have conversations much easier now, huh?” I smile.
With the Veil lifted, we spend the hour learning all we can about each other—her favorite color isn’t just yellow, it’s turmeric. She loves how it looks when she puts a teaspoon of it in her rice cooker and it spreads throughout the water. Her favorite flower is a poinsettia because her mother used to line the front porch with them during a winter holiday called Christmas. Those things on her teeth are called braces and they’re supposed to help her teeth somehow. She hates celery and loves broccoli, especially if they’re roasted in an oven. That scar on her cheek is from learning something called skateboarding. She loves the rain but is terrified of thunder. She hates how loud her laugh is, though it's my favorite sound.
She worries about being too much and not enough all at once.
As we talk, I can’t tell how much time we have left. I can tell I’m fading from her view but she never fades from mine. Her laughter grows quieter, her giggles becoming rare until they’re gone altogether. Her high is wearing off, and with it, the fragile connection we share. I can feel her pulling back, closing herself off again, like the gentle drift of someone falling asleep without realizing it.
Her eyes stay on me, intense and unblinking, memorizing every detail of my face to hold onto me for just a moment longer. Then I see it, the shift in her expression. Realization dawns like a shadow passing over her, her gaze losing focus.
“I can’t see you anymore,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with resignation. She sighs, her shoulders slumping. “You’re gone again.”
-
“Are you sure you’re ready?” I ask, my voice soft but steady. Over the years, I’ve forged fragile connections with humans, always careful never to push too hard. Yet no matter how gentle I am, the same thing happens—they see too much, fear too much, and never return. And I don’t blame them. It’s utterly overwhelming. There’s no denying that.
But she’s been visiting me for months and I’ve never been this close to anyone. With her, the world feels sharper, more vivid. Every time she speaks, her words resonate with something deep inside me, as if they echo through places I’ve forgotten even existed.
She occupies my every waking moment. I’ve started to feel her even when she’s not here—her absence pressing against me like a quiet storm, a warmth that lingers in the air long after she’s gone. Her voice echoes in my mind when it’s silent. Every time our eyes meet, there’s that spark, that electric connection that tells me we’re on the cusp of something extraordinary.
We’ve talked about taking the next step so many times now. But it’s a huge step. It’s about stepping into a new reality, about making something impossible real.
She nods, her eyes bright with determination. “I’m sure.”
She picks up the mushroom, turning it over in her hands as though its surface might help her validate her decision. Then, with a shaky breath, she sets it back down, her resolve wavering. “What if this isn’t real?” she whispers, her gaze fixed on her trembling fingers. “What if I’ve just been…hallucinating all of this?”
“You’re not hallucinating,” I say gently.
She hugs her knees to her chest, biting her lip. “But what if I am? And if I eat another one, I just sink deeper into this… dream? Or illusion? Or whatever this is.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I assure her, leaning closer.
She lifts her head slightly, her expression torn. “But if I need these just to talk to you…” Her voice falters. “Doesn’t that mean I’ll always be dependent on them?”
I meet her gaze, steady and unwavering. “You’re already talking to me,” I say. “You don’t need another one to keep doing that.”
Her breath catches, and for a moment, silence hangs between us. Then she speaks again, “But I can’t touch you.” Her eyes glisten, her vulnerability shining through. “And I want to.”
Something in me stirs—sharp and undeniable. My chest tightens, my voice trembling, “I want that too.”
She sighs my name, and it feels like the world is tilting. Her cheeks flush as she hesitates. “I want to…maybe it’s the mushroom talking,” she says quickly, her words tumbling out, “but I want you. I want you to kiss me and hold me and make me feel—”
“I want all of that too,” I interrupt, my voice low and earnest. “But only if you’re ready.”
Her shoulders sag slightly, her head tilting as she stares at the ground. “But it’ll never be truly real, though, will it?”
“It’s real,” I say softly. “Maybe not in the way we want it to be—but real enough to feel.” Nodding, she takes several seconds to think, picking at the green moss as a distraction. “What if I ate one too?”
“Would it even affect you?”
I nod and add, “It gives me a high, but nothing…magical happens.” We both agree to eat one, giggling and talking while we let them both set in.
“I’m not feeling much different, to be honest,” she says, her voice faltering. “I’m starting to think none of this is real. I’m just… seeing you, but you’re not really there.” Her hand lifts, a trembling finger reaching toward my cheek.
Then it happens.
The moment her skin touches mine, a spark—soft, warm, and undeniable—flares between us. She gasps, jerking her hand back as though it's been burned. But before the space between us can grow too wide, she reaches out again, her palm settling against my cheek, her thumb brushing over the curve with a tentative tenderness.
Her touch anchors me, and for a moment, I can’t speak.
“…Soobin,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I’m scared.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re there. You’re really there.”
“I know,” I say, chuckling. “I’m really here. Watch this.” I reach out, dragging my fingertips over her forearm. She gasps again, yanking her hand back. “Are you okay?” I ask, concern flickering in my voice. She nods, slowly and deliberately moving her hand forward. Then, she runs her fingers through my hair and glides them down my shoulder and arm, leaving a shiver in their wake.
“Can I…your wings?” she asks, her voice filled with awe. I let them unfold just enough for her to see. Her breath hitches as she reaches out, the tip of her pointer finger brushing against the delicate edge of one wing. It flutters instinctively at her touch, responding to her presence, which spooks her a bit.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, watching her hand.
Encouraged and confident, she places her hand fully on top of my wing, her fingers tracing its intricate patterns as though committing every curve and shimmer to memory.
“Wow…that’s unreal,” she says. “I mean, it’s real, but doesn’t seem like it should be.” She inches closer, the space between us dissolving until our knees barely touch. Her fingers run down my arm lightly before picking up my hand, examining it closely, her thumb tracing the lines of my palm, the curve of my fingers. Then, I mirror her actions, taking her hand in mine. It’s warm, human, and yet so fragile under my touch.
Her hand travels upward to trace my features with her thumb. She lingers over the arch of my eyebrow, down the bridge of my nose, along the edge of my jaw. When she reaches my lips, her thumb pauses, grazing over the softness of my bottom lip. A breath escapes me, unbidden, and her touch slows, her thumb resting there for just a moment longer before she withdraws, her hand trembling slightly as it falls back into her lap.
I respond, my thumb swiping across her bottom lip and I tug her closer by her jaw until I can feel her breath on my chin.
“Can I kiss you?” I whisper.
She nods.
Our lips fall into one another and move over each other so beautifully—it beats out rainbows and peonies, the sound of water falling, the smell of peppermint leaves. It’s a paradox, making everything else feel insignificant yet illuminating the meaning of it all in the same breath.
It deepens and I hover over her, her legs coming out from under her while I guide her to lay down on the mossy patch, our lips never parting. Her lips feel so magical and soft and we only stop when she needs to come up for air. We smile at each other, our eyes sharing the same redness and glassy daze. I know exactly what I want to happen next, but I’m not so sure she’s ready for all that. I look at her, taking in all her beauty.
“You’re gorgeous,” I tell her.
“So are you,” she slurs. She reaches for my hand that’s already resting on her hip and moves it up to her chest, encouraging me to feel all of her.
I whisper her name and ask, “Are you sure you want this?”
“Please.” My lips crash into hers again and our hands are all over each other, on each other’s bodies, in each other’s hair, squeezing and squishing and feeling and rubbing. She breaks the kiss, “Have you ever done this before? You know, with a human?”
“Not with a human,” I chuckle. “But all the anatomy’s the same.”
“That’s good,” she giggles, grabbing my hair to kiss me again, but she’s quick to pull back. “Go slow, okay?” I nod. With a snap of my fingers, flowers swirl together, carried by a gentle breeze, forming a soft pillow for her to rest her head on. “Ah, thank you. I forgot you can do stuff like that.” Lifting the skirt of her dress up, I slowly move it past her thighs and she asks with a trembling voice, “Will people see us?”
I shake my head, telling her, “I cast a shadow cloak around us. No one can see us. Not even the other fae.” A look of relief and content falls across her face. “Can I…?” I ask, lifting her dress more. She nods. With each passing inch, my heart thumps as I drag my fingertips over her legs. Lifting it over her head, she’s laying under me, mostly bare. She’s still wearing two tiny pieces of fabric that cover her chest and bottom.
“I wore these for you,” she says, her voice soft and tinged with a shyness she can’t quite hide. The veil lanterns must’ve loosened her lips.
“You did?” My hands explore her curves, reverent and curious, tracing every inch of her body. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Thank you.” Her skin is soft and inviting under my lips, and I scatter kisses lower, her body responding perfectly with mine. But then, I can’t hide my fascination any longer. I pause, my thumb brushing over the delicate pink fabric that’s still on her body. How do I put this? Ah, let’s just be candid. “What is this?”
“What do you mean?”
“These,” I say, running my fingers along the straps and edges of the fabric. “I’ve never seen clothes like this before.”
“Oh,” she giggles, tugging gently at one of the straps. “This is a bra. And these,” she gestures to the sides of the fabric on her hips, “are panties.” I hum thoughtfully, studying her with an amused tilt of my head.
“We don’t wear things like this. What’s the point of them?”
Her lips curve into a playful smile. “Look at me.” And I do. She’s delicious. “That’s the point.”
I smirk, my gaze lingering on her. “Am I—are you—supposed to take them off?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice catching just slightly, her flush deepening. My fingers brush over the fabric again, savoring the contrast between it and her skin. “Do you not like them?” she asks, her tone almost teasing.
“No, I do,” I reply, my voice dipping lower. “I have a feeling I’ll like your body even more.” I start to try and pull them off, but—
“Not yet,” she sighs. “Come here.” I sit up and she follows, her hand drifting to my top button. Slowly, she unfastens it, the slinky pink velvet slipping through her fingers with each deliberate motion. Once she pushes my shirt past my shoulders, I tug at the cuffs to free my arms. Her gaze stays locked on me as I fold my wings down, the delicate motion allowing me to slip the shirt off completely.
Extending her arm out, the tip of her middle finger barely touches my chest before she jerks her hand back, still not believing I’m tangible. Then she lets her hand fully press my body, dragging down to my waist. I remember how much my wings fascinate her, so I unfold them for her and she gasps.
Leaning closer, our lips fall into each other and I guide her to lay down again just the same as before. My thumb drags across the apple of her cheek, trailed by my pointer finger down column of her neck, following a line between her breasts, down to squeeze her waist. Holding her bra strap between my pointer and middle finger, I slowly pull it down, leaving kisses along the way and hoping I’m doing this whole bra-and-panties thing correctly. Then I do the same with the other side, watching as she effortlessly reaches behind her, making something snap so it falls off her chest, hanging loosely. She pulls it off herself, although I think I’m supposed to be the one that does that. Next time.
Looking down at her bare chest, I can’t help but feel giddy. The way her chest curves on itself, creating a gorgeous shape I desperately need to feel.
“I love these,” I say, kissing the side of her breast. She hums in question. And I nudge the marks on her skin with the tip of my nose. “These,” I say.
Her gaze follows mine as she glances down and asks, “Oh, my stretch marks?”
“We call them life lace.”
Her expression softens, her eyes meeting mine. “Life lace,” she repeats quietly, as if testing the words, a touch of wonder in her voice. I search and scour for every bit I can find—the most of it on her tummy, hips, and thighs. She’s still got that last bit of clothing around her hips she hasn’t taken off yet. That final barrier between us. We’ve knocked every other barrier down but something about this last one feels utterly real in a way the others didn’t.
Wrapping my hands around her thighs, I pull her gently so her legs wrap around my ears gently, shoving my face into her center over that last bit of clothing, inhaling. I’ve never been this close to a human before. She smells so different from the fae I’ve been with. She’s intoxicating and delightful—my mouth waters at how delicious she smells.
“I take this off, too?” I nudge at her entrance, earning a jolt. I must’ve nudged something sensitive. She nods eagerly, helping me take them off her.
“You too,” she reminds me and I shuffle to get rid of the rest of my clothes. Looking down at her, she’s giddy and completely entranced, which twinges my heart. It’s just the veil lanterns, the cynical part of me reminds myself. Her legs are casually spread open, giving me a full display of her glistening pussy. I skate my hands up her legs, feeling her ground herself in the feeling of my hands.
Teasing her entrance with my thumb, she’s hot and wet as she flutters around nothing, waiting for anything from me. I gather just enough of her wetness to make my pointer finger slick and tap her clit, making her flinch. Then, I rub the slowest, lightest circles over the nub and she lets out a ragged sigh. Her tightened muscles relax as she allows herself to feel every move I’m making, letting her head gently fall to the pillow of flowers.
Once she’s practically dripping, I slide my two middle fingers inside her, curling them to tease the most sensitive bit with the pads of them. Bending, I flick my pointed tongue against her clit, eliciting a whine while she desperately reaches for my hair. I’ve never tasted a human either, I realize. I’m not sure anything will ever be as delicious as her again.
“Oh my god,” she whimpers. Every sound she makes is gorgeous but I can’t wait to hear what she sounds like when she comes. I bet it's the most beautiful in the world. “W—wait…” she trails off, her hip thrusts betraying her words. “Soobin, wait—” she gasps. This time, I stop. Gently wrapping her hand around the back of my neck to pull me closer. “I want you…all of you, please.”
I take the time to memorize what her face looks like, how her hair is splayed out against the flowers, how kissable her lips look. And I don’t resist them. Pressing my lips to hers again, they mould into each other like we should’ve never been apart in the first place. She tries to place her hands on my back, stumbling as she realizes my wings are in the way, which rustle in response. Instead, she rests them on my waist, squeezing delicately.
We hesitantly part so I can sit up on my knees. This time, I take the time to memorize everything about her body—her stomach rolls folding from holding her legs open, the life lace at the tops of her thighs, the swell of her ass squished by the ground. Everything is absolute, utter perfection.
Slowly gracing my hands to follow the curve of her waist then down to her thighs and hips, little bumps cover her skin. I forget what humans call them. Finding her clit with my thumb again, I rub agonizingly slow circles, forcing her hips to roll involuntarily. Barely prodding her entrance with my cock, I watch her shiver and whine, quickly getting impatient. When I back off, her pelvis bucks, her body begging for me on its own.
Aligning myself at her pussy again, I push myself in, only letting myself about halfway inside her but she still takes my breath away. Just as she’s about to let out a sigh of relief, I pull out of her again.
“Stop…” she whines. “Stop teasing me so much.” I chuckle with her—I guess I should get to the good stuff. “Please…please stop teasing me so much.”
I concede and when I’m finally fully inside her, everything feels so…much. It’s all so much. I feel like I’ve never felt before, like nothing has ever had any impact before her, like nothing will ever feel as good until we’re together again. I bend at my waist, supporting myself with my elbows around her face and her eyes flutter shut.
“Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me,” I say. “We don’t have much time.”
When she opens her eyes and looks into mine, still nothing matters—not that she can’t see me without the veil lanterns, not that I could disappear from her view any minute, not that we could never truly be together. The way she feels overshadows all of that.
We don’t have much time, I remind myself. I sink deeper inside her, digging my face into her neck.
“Look at me,” she reminds me and I follow her instructions. We find a rhythm we both like, desperately thrusting in and out of her. “Kiss me…kiss me please,” she whispers. Our lips meet furiously as my hips dig into hers. “I need to feel you as much as I can,” she says. “Before I can’t anymore.” Resting her arms against my lower back—right below my wings—she squeezes around me, rubbing her hands up and down my waist. Delicately and hesitantly, she slides her hands up, letting her hands rest gently where my wings meet my skin.
There’s a vulnerability to it I wasn’t expecting. It’s not something I’ve thought about before—no one’s ever touched me like that there before, not even another faerie. My breath catches when her fingers trace the delicate ridge where my wings connect to my body. I shudder, the sensation overwhelming and pleasant. Her eyes widen, searching mine, unsure if she’s crossed a line.
“Is this okay?” she asks softly, her voice trembling.
I press my forehead to hers, nodding. “It’s okay,” I respond. “More than okay.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, her thumbs brushing lightly against the base of my wings.
“You won’t,” I promise, though my voice is raw, barely audible. “You couldn’t.”
Her lips find mine again, gentler this time, like her touch softened the urgency between us. The rhythm slows, turning into something deeper, more deliberate. Her hands never stray far from my wings and the trust in her touch makes my chest ache in the best way. In this moment, she sees me—not just with her eyes, but as someone she wants to hold onto, even when she knows she can’t forever.
“You feel,” she gasps. “I can’t—”
“I know, baby…” I sigh. “I know.” I silence her whimpers with my mouth, swallowing any whines that escape past her lips. I argue with myself trying to decide if I should close my eyes to savor how she feels, never leaving her lips or if I should keep them open to make sure I commit the sight of her underneath me to memory. Either way is a win for me to be fair.
Breaking the kiss, I trail my lips all over her body, tasting every inch of her. She’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever tasted before, slightly salty and warm against my tongue, different from the typical sweetness of other faeries. Every time I press my lips to her, I kiss away a hardship. I kiss away the stress in her shoulders, kiss away the problems she faces in her day-to-day life, kiss away any anxieties she feels. I’m desperate to make her feel good, to remind her that none of that matters here. With me.
When I flick my tongue over her nipple, her back arches, a gasp following her movements. I keep my thrusts steady, feeling her release building up in her stomach. I watch as her tummy muscles tighten then she desperately reaches for my hair, pulling me closer so our bodies are pressed together again. Her arms are wrapped around my torso and I can feel her clenching around me, teetering on the edge of something incredible.
“Soobin—” she gasps. “Don’t—” Her back arches. “Hmm…I’m close,” she says, a smile evident in her voice. “Please, please…” I don’t think she even knows what she’s begging for anymore. Begging for anything—my cock, my hands, my lips, a release.
Then, her nails dig into my lower back as she bites my shoulder, groaning loudly against my skin as she comes around my cock, pussy pulsating around me as she whimpers and whines through it.
“Oh my god,” she pants and just as she starts to twitch from overstimulation, I slow my movements, peppering her neck and face with kisses. She catches her breath, whispering incoherent things in my ears, things like my name, swears, giggles.
“Use me,” she whispers. I hum in question. “Use me to make yourself feel good.” I lift her legs, pressing them toward her chest, letting me reach the deepest parts of her. And everything about her feels incredible. Pounding into her quickly, I squeeze one of her tits with one hand and use the other to hold her waist in place.
It doesn’t take long for something inside me to twist and turn, begging to be snapped so I can fill her up. My stomach ties itself into too many knots as a white hot fire burns in the pit of it. The noises she’s making adds fuel to the fire, burning and burning until I can’t hold back anymore. With a few final thrusts, everything inside me breaks, like it’s all been building until this moment. I make a conscious effort to take my time and feel everything, thinking about how her pussy feels wrapped around my cock, how her tit feels in my hand, what she smells like, what she looks like. Everything is magic.
As I catch my breath, I pull out of her so slowly she shivers and I watch as my cum spills out of her while she giggles bashfully. I panic as I realize I didn’t prepare to clean up. Why didn’t I prepare for clean-up? She finds that little piece of fabric she was wearing earlier—what was it called again?—and uses them to wipe herself clean before folding them meticulously to store in her bag.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Eh…” she hums. …Eh? “Just kinda bittersweet is all, you know?” I shake my head in disappointment. “No, no!” She runs her fingers through my hair, looking at me sweetly. “That was amazing.” She kisses me deeply. “I should’ve started with that. I’m sorry.”
“You swear?”
“Of course,” she sighs. “That was incredible. It’s just…”
“I know,” I say. “How much time do we have left, you think?” Averting her eyes from mine, she looks down to fiddle with her thumbs.
“You’re already starting to fade.”
“Then look at me,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “Look at me until you can’t anymore.” She chuckles, bringing her eyes up to meet mine. We stare at each other, running our hands over each other’s bodies until we’ll no longer be able to feel the other. Once the Veil of Touch separates our hands again, we hesitantly get dressed during the last few minutes before the Veil of Sight and Sound completely separates us. She pulls her dress back over her head, closing off my view from her.
We sit again, facing toward each other, anxiously waiting until I fade from her view. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes. I start to reach for her, until I remember I can’t touch her.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Soobin,” she sniffles. I scoot closer to her.
“What? What do you mean?”
“I don’t think I can do this,” she gestures between us. “Only seeing you when I’m on some kind of high from those mushrooms? This would never work. I can’t just…not see or hear you when I’m sober. I can’t—this isn’t—” Her words puncture my lungs and I can’t breathe. The ache in her voice echoes into my chest and I hate these fucking Veils. What’s the point in them anyway? Can’t they be destroyed?
“Don’t say that,” I plead.
She shakes her head, tears spilling over as she wipes at her cheeks with trembling hands. “I can’t keep falling deeper for you, only to lose you every time the spell fades. It’s breaking me apart.”
My throat tightens. “You’re not losing me. I’ll always be here. Always. I promise.”
“But I won’t really be here, will I?” she says, her voice cracking. “I won’t ever be in the right state of mind when we’re together.”
Her words hang heavy in the air and all I can hear is the soft babble of the creek. I try to reach for her again, forgetting again I can’t. My hand hovers uselessly in the air before falling back to my side.
“There has to be another way,” I say, desperation creeping into my voice. “Something we haven’t tried. A way to get rid of them so we can be together.” She looks at me, her expression a mixture of longing and heartbreak.
“And if there isn’t? What then? Do we keep doing this forever?”
Leaning closer, I say, “You’re worth it.”
Her face crumples, and she presses her hands to her face as if to shield herself from my words. “Soobin, I—” I know the edges of her vision are starting to blur, the Veil is about to take me from her. Again. “Don’t go,” she whispers, her voice breaking.
“I’m not leaving you,” I say. “Not really. I’ll always be here. Waiting.” And then I know I’m gone by the sound of her cries. I turn the water a rich, warm shade of yellow with deep golden and earthy undertones—turmeric—so she knows I’m still there with her. She stands slowly, turns and starts to walk away but stops a few steps in, she looks back, somehow right into my eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
#𝓴𝗶𝗽𝗼 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔! ๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) ˑ༄#𝓁𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝖻𝗈𝗒──soobin ♡ ˎˊ˗#i am HEARTBROKEN.#oh how i love angst#soobin x reader#soobin smut#txt x reader#txt smut
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[b.sk] love song
synopsis. | tonight it’s just you, your playlist, and your memories.
♯ pairing(s). | boo seungkwan x gn!reader ♯ genre(s). | angst, lil bit of fluff, a liiil bit suggestive, best friends to lovers to ??? ♯ wc. | 1.6k ♯ warnings. | cursing, kissing, seungkwan is kind of toxic towards the end, breaking up, ambiguous ending
jay’s musings. | *smacks sk on the back like a car hood* u can fit so much angst in this bad boy. happy (late) birthday u vocal monster!!
Now Shuffling… our time together. 67 songs. 3hr 42m.
JANUARY 16TH. FIVE YEARS AGO. Now Playing… Bleuming by IU 8.01am
i know we feel the same / realize
“Happy birthday, Seungkwan! Hi!”
Your arms wrangle the boy, messing with his hair and laughing into his cheek. He yelps in surprise, hands finding the small of your back as he holds you, eyes narrowing in playfulness.
“You’re eight hours late, you know,” he huffs good-naturedly, but you just roll your eyes and lean into him.
Breathing a large, wispy cloud of warm air into the sky, you match his stride. It’s easy to, anyways, when he slows his pace to synchronise the scuffling of your sneakers. Your inhales become his exhales and his heart pumps to the rhythm of your body’s internal percussion.
Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.
“What do you want for your birthday?” you nudge his arm, teasing.
You expect a scoff; a push back at how you’re only asking today, out of all days. Maybe even a joke, saying something stupid like, Oh, I want a private jet flight across the world for a six month vacation, just so he could see your eyebrow arch and lips pull back in a grimace.
Instead, Seungkwan just looks at you, scanning your figure up and down. It’s devastatingly slow, burning you from head to toe. You snap your mouth shut and avert your gaze.
January’s cold suddenly doesn’t stand a chance against your hotly flushed cheeks.
don’t think too hard about what you’re going to say / just reply
The two of you walk, side-by-side, Seungkwan nearest to the road—even at your insistence that it’s your birthday, let me sacrifice my life for you!—sharing wired earbuds as you listen to the playlist you made for him.
In these quiet and prized moments, your knuckles perpetually knock against his without fail. He's always telling you to put lotion on them, especially when it’s winter, and today is no exception.
“What am I, your life long caretaker?” he’s grumbling to himself as his fingers rub the cosmetic into your skin. His body is close enough you can feel the heat tumbling off of him in waves. “Do I always need to worry about you?”
my slightly playful metaphor
You peer up at him through your lashes, his hair falling into his eyes as he studies your hands. Time seems to stand still as you murmur into his exhale. Your breath mingles with his.
“Would it be so bad? To take care of me for life?”
i wonder how you will interpret it?
JANUARY 16TH. THREE YEARS AGO. Now Playing… LADYBIRD by JANNABI 1.43PM
rub your eyes awake / as if looking at me and stroke my eyebrows (sweet, sweet life)
His kiss—it’s reluctant. Timid. Like you’ll scamper away and hide forever if he does so much as breathe too roughly.
“Was that okay?” you speak, bashful and hushed against his lips, yours curling into a smile when he gives you a second peck in response. “Happy birthday, Kwannie. Hope to spend so many more with you.”
“You say it as if you have a choice.”
the outside is still / don’t rush our season (sweet, sweet life, for every time of life)
Your legs tangle together on the bed. There’s no reason to move, plans with the others scheduled far well into the evening, and the one person you would exhaust yourself for is intertwined with you already.
You laugh at his remark, sweet music to his ears, pressing the pad of your thumb to his mouth when he goes to cage you for another candied kiss. He smells like eucalyptus and jasmine.
Slyly, you agonizingly swipe your finger along his bottom lip. “Kind of do, kind of don’t. You know I'll stay with you for as long as the universe allows.”
what will our season be like?
“Don’t say that,” Seungkwan chuckles lowly, hands beginning to sneak up your shirt. “Else I’m gonna have to fight the universe to keep you for eons.”
beautiful or messy?
JANUARY 16TH. ONE YEAR AGO. Now Playing… always by keshi 7.29PM
gone, not a trace / and it’s almost like it never happened
The break was inevitable, you suppose.
So soon into college and it was like you were seeing an entirely different man. There were no more daily selfies, no more voice notes of his rants about particularly annoying classes or difficult projects. The timestamps between your points of contact grow with the shortening days and it leaves you wondering where it all went wrong. His abrupt change in behavior stings worse than a hornet.
I don’t think I want this anymore, he had said. I need a break. I'm confused and you don’t deserve this. You deserve better.
Friends, he promised. We can start again as friends when I figure out who I am and what I want to be. And maybe the universe will be kinder to us this time.
no, not the same / guess it hurt me more than i imagined
Texts are scarce now. You find yourself starved, trailing after him like a stray dog begging for a bone. He'll throw you one every once in a while before disappearing with people you don’t recognize, voices that drip with honeyed lies and comments that make your stomach sick.
He’s lost in them all, the way he was lost in you only months before.
we always do / like we always do
Today is cold, like always.
The fourth handmade card is crumpled up and tossed to the side. None of the words you want to say can be penned down; you fear that the burning pit that’s been inhabiting your stomach would worm its way out into the margins.
You squeeze your eyes shut and take a shaky breath before attempting once more. Minutes tick by, the shadows in your room long by the time a notification from your phone distracts you. It’s Seungkwan's Instagram story from who knows where, the music loud, and the video vibrating from his laughter and the bass.
You dare to check your messages. The ‘happy birthday seungkwan!’ is still marked as delivered from this morning.
This card doesn’t last even an hour before being thrown away.
A sob escapes you. Maybe it’s time to stop trying—because when did loving him become a chore you put off until the last minute?
was i a fool / to think that we always would?
JANUARY 16TH. PRESENT DAY. Now Playing… DIE 4 YOU by DEAN 11.57PM
i know it is way too late / i know it is way too crazy
You’ve been restless all day.
Hands in knots, tummy twisting unnaturally—you had it all. Wonwoo had given you long, concerning looks at work, before he finally mentioned clocking out early due to some other schedule.
“The boss lets you leave a little early as long as you mark it on your timesheet,” he offered, tugging on his coat, and then he was gone.
You took the chance to rush home yourself immediately.
but if you give me one more chance / could you tell me once again, again?
Red lights mean stop—you know that.
But they also used to mean a hand sneaking to trace circles on your thigh. They used to mean a hand grabbing your chin and cheekily stealing a kiss or two, giggling into each other’s mouths like lovesick fools. They used to mean turning up the volume of the song from your shared playlist and belting the lyrics at the top of your lungs. They used to mean I love you.
Now, your car sits silent, empty save for you in the driver’s seat. It's dark and the headlights from oncoming vehicles make your head ache almost as much as he makes your heart pound.
The stoplight turns green, and your foot lands on the gas a little too harshly, flooring it.
could you kill me once again, again?
Seungkwan’s Instagram feed is gone, wiped without as much as a goodbye.
There’s only reposts of his tagged stories, yet another unknown group of people smiling earnestly next to him, him holding a birthday cake with brightly lit candles. You wonder what drama happened to cause the last friend group to disappear again.
cause i know, you know / i’ll be loving you
Fuck it.
The call picks up on the fourth ring. You know for a fact that the first ring left him speechless, the second and third ring he hesitated, and the fourth ring he made his move.
That was Boo Seungkwan for you—heart set on something once he makes a decision.
“Hello?” comes his voice through the speaker.
You could cry from how far away he sounds, not in physical distance, but in emotional distance. There’s no exclamation of your name, there’s no booming laughter from his latest comedic story, there’s nothing. As if all the feelings he sports are tucked away in a safe, far away from your teary eyes and welcoming arms.
“Hello?” he asks, again, and you exhale sharply at how neutral his tone is. “Who is this?”
Ah. So he deleted your contact.
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself against the pillow clutched to your chest. Your knuckles, dry and scraped, are turning white from how hard you’re digging your fingers into the plush material.
“Hell-ooo? Seriously, is this a prank or something?” there’s the sound of shuffling, and you think he’s muttering to someone on the other end of the line before his flat tone sounds again, louder and full of intent. “I’m hanging up n—”
“Hi, Seungkwan. Happy birthday.”
(i’ll be loving you / i’ll be loving you / i’ll be loving you)
#s - @heartepub, @junplusone, @fallminlove, @wheeboo. if you’d like to be notified when new releases drop, don’t hesitate to send in an ask! <3
#seventeen#boo seungkwan#boo seungkwan x reader#seungkwan x reader#seventeen x reader#boo seungkwan angst#boo seungkwan imagines#seungkwan angst#seungkwan imagines#seventeen angst#seventeen imagines#svt angst#svt imagines#boo seungkwan x you#seungkwan x you#seventeen x you#boo seungkwan fluff#seungkwan fluff#svt fluff#seventeen fluff#🎶 artist discography
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Helluva boss sinsmas is OUUUUTTTT!!! What’re ur thoughts? :3
For the finale episode, Stolas is now living with Blitz, and its kinda crazy how the show is acting like this is romantic domesticity, while simultaneously revealing how much these two aren't even friends that know basic things about each other, like Blitz's horse collection/obsession as well as what Stolas even eats.
Stella and Andrealphus won't let Octavia talk to her dad. They laugh like annoying hoity toity disney villain rich people. (Stolas is also treated like shit by all the imps and later cries about being poor, still feels like we haven't addressed his classism yet)
We have Sinsmas, a scrap of worldbuilding in replacement of Christmas. We ALSO have scraps of Millie facts to her character that don't add anything to her depth but are still nice to know!!! : She snores while she sleeps, and she doesn't like musicals like her husband at all, she actually prefers slasher horror films.
A lady client shows up at IMP, basically spoofing Stella. She comes in, exasperated and angry, saying her husband cheated on her, and she doesn't want him to have a happy day with their daughters after what he did to her, which is justified anger to a degree. Then the show suddenly reveals the lady is homophobic, claiming her husband is "poisoning their daughters" with his "heinous lifestyle" and later proclaims Stolas' fantasy diary didn't arouse her like gay people are supposed to be a kink and not actual people- which had me rolling my eyes with how on the nose they're attempting but failing to be, because despite everything, Stella herself has never indicated she was homophobic. She very specifically indicated she was more upset that he slept with a low class imp in their shared bed. She's never jabbed at the fact that Blitz was a man. They're doing everything in their power to villainize Stella as much as possible to justify Stolas's initial cheating on her from season 1 instead of keeping Stolas's a complex, grey character for his actions.
We still don't understand Stella's relationship to her own daughter, i have a hard time believing they have one at all.
Octavia writes a song, which, I really like the lyrics for. "I'll be okay, but I'll never be the same. I'll grow without you, I'll be okay, but I'm not okay today." Very nice The one lyric of "This used to be your home" is awkwardly out of place, because season 1 Octavia claimed "I want to go home, but home doesn't feel like home anymore, you ruined it." Which I think the writers forgot about, because this place hasn't been home to Stolas or Octavia in forever.
Stolas gets all butthurt that he can't contact Octavia, and suddenly tears apart his BlitzXStolas fanfiction and rushes to see her- this guy seriously- I mean come on man, pick a lane The last threat of the entire series that would ever be a problem for our main characters: Adrealphus, is defeated in this final episode, so not even he is a threat anymore. Stolas and IMP are now completely safe with no issues outside of possible bankruptcy, but that's always been a background gag/issue anyway. Octavia saves her dad, and confronts him about his antidepressants, saying "Was I just an obligation? You were never happy with us, we were never enough for you, you chose Blitz." Which is 100% all true. Octavia was an obligation, he wasn't happy with her and Stella, he neglected Octavia enough to still treat her like a baby, not aware of her new interests at all. He chose to save Blitz at the cost of his own life if not everything he owned.
So Octavia has every right to be angry, however, it's very annoying to me that she feels betrayed to this extent by him, because she knows for a FACT that Stolas has been trying to contact her every day for a month straight, she knows for a fact her mother isolated her from her father, she knows for a fact Andrealphus attacked her father and almost tried to kill him. It's weird she doesn't give credit to that at all.
It's also weird Stella doesn't come outside to watch this, she loves seeing Stolas tormented, Stella keeps getting left out of everything, even the trial, and it doesn't make sense. Blitz sees the two guys in the window they're supposed to kill with their daughters, and it reminds him of him, Stolas, Octavia, and Loona. From where I'm standing, this isn't possible. Octavia hates Blitz, she interacted with Loona vaguely once, and she also isn't on good terms with her father right now, and as far as I'm concerned Loona isn't either. Her big moment with calling Blitz "dad" was when he was dangerously binge drinking and whoring himself around, Loona wanted to use him as a connection to the life of the party to be more popular- this shouldn't have been a big father-daughter moment at all.
Millie is pregnant, which isn't an issue outside of money I guess- alongside the fact that she seems to love her job and doesn't want to give that up- but she has a family who she can fall back on, she'll be fine. I'm really worried she's gonna go from Moxie's wife to Moxie's child's mother instead of being her own character.
Final thoughts of Helluva Boss: The writing has turned into unreliable narrator steeped in continuity incompetence. I think the creator sees both the criticism and the support for her show, and weirdly tries to appease both, but ultimately shows two entirely different interpretations with each new episode, (Was Loona's kick supposed to be funny or fucked up? Is Stella supposed to be jealously angry or stupidly petty? Is Striker dangerously competent or arrogantly incompetent? Are Stolas and Blitz using each other, or are they best friends forever soulmates? Are the sin embodiments supposed to be evil or good? Is Blitz actually a bad person, or was everything an accident? BOTH???) In the rising lack of media literacy on the internet, on top of constantly changing interpretations of these characters within its own show, it's a no brainer why the fandom is so divided. These may as well be two entirely different shows thanks to the confused writing. Overall, very very sad to see where Helluva Boss went. Definitely dipped and continued to flatline across season 2. There's some really good ideas in here, but the execution is flawed if not sometimes misguided. It's sad and a shame to see this for such a brilliant, original idea of a show like Helluva Boss, and by extension, Hazbin Hotel. At the very least, their origin pilots I hope will continue to inspire people regardless of the roads they went down.
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— CRUSHING
[SOUNDTRACK] Crushing - Eartheater || ▶︎
[TAGS] rafayel x reader, fluff, slight angst/allusion to myth, slightly suggestive
[A/N] italicized text is taken from the lyrics of Crushing by Eartheater (aka literallyyyyy the most raf song ever which inspired me to make this fic and also make my raf playlist)
this is just my ode to raf in all his sweetness and glory. i really like this fic :') this length and this sort of free minimal plot slice of life style is exactly my comfort zone and something i want to keep doing for sure. hope u guys enjoy!
[WC] 1k
songfic 5/?
You’re the wave crushing the shells into sand You’re the flame melting sand into glass
When Rafayel touches you for the first time that night, his hand sliding purposefully around your waist, each finger pressing with insistence like they’re trying to sear their mark into your skin with an invisible brand– it’s like he’s someone else. Behind the silly jokes and banter that both of you share, that someone else is always there.
You’re the glass holding the wine You’re the wine making me drunk
Among the clink of glasses, the hum of hushed, polite conversation as Rafayel steers you through the exhibition by his side, that palm of heat pressing firmly into the small of your back is unignorable, ineffable. You engage in small talk with passing socialites, as does he, appearing as jovial and engaged as ever, but the way his fingers gently slide through the sateen of your dress and play with the fabric at your hip is beyond distracting.
Only he can do this to you– touch you so innocently in a way that makes your stomach clench, makes your lungs seize onto each gulpful of air like you’re drowning in a warm sea, makes your skin erupt with gooseflesh, every single tiny hair on your body standing on end.
You’re the drunk telling me lies You’re the lies that come to light
Each wall in the museum hall is decorated with a piece of him, canvases of bright blues and deep reds, pearlescent whites and seaweed greens that glitter with an unexplainable texture like crushed diamonds. You can’t help but look around in awe. You’ve been in his studio before, seen the man himself at work, but being in an exhibition of his work, a celebration of it, is different. It feels like you’re in a hall of mirrors– each painting that you see is a reflection of the man you love staring back at you, hours of dedication, suffering, and passion laid bare for all to see.
It’s profoundly intimate and honest, almost uncomfortably so. You squeeze his arm gently in an unconscious protective gesture as your eyes scan over the walls of paintings, suddenly wishing everyone would disappear except the two of you.
“What?” Rafayel murmurs gently under his breath. “You okay, cutie?”
“Yeah,” you respond. “More than okay. It’s so beautiful. All of it.” You gesture broadly with your hand. A soft smile rises on his lips, a twinkle in his lavender eyes.
“I’m happy you’re here with me.”
You’re the opening of a shell You’re the shell that has a pearl
When you’re back at Rafayel’s place after the exhibition, kicking off your heels and reclining into the couch, his hands snake around you again, greedy and beseeching around the circumference of your waist. He leans into you, head nestling into where your neck meets your shoulder, breathing in your perfume.
“You know,” you murmur, hand stroking through his hair as the two of you lie quietly on the couch in the moonlight. “I feel like I don’t compliment you about your art enough.”
He laughs, his warm breath ghosting over your neck. “What, you want to boost my ego even more? You’re the one who always complains I’m too full of myself.”
“Not because I want to boost your ego,” you correct with a chuckle. “Because I want you to know how talented I think you are. Seriously. Every time you draw the sea, I feel like I’m seeing Lemuria how it was.”
His body stiffens in your arms for a few seconds before relaxing again. He’s silent momentarily as you continue petting his hair, feeling his soft breath on your skin. You can tell he’s thinking. He presses a brief kiss to the side of your throat. “Thanks,” he finally responds, his voice tinged with roughness.
You’re the body that blows my mind You’re the mind that stays open
You could spend the night like this, holding him close on the couch, but he has other plans as he nuzzles closer to you, his hand slipping past the hem of your dress and lazily up your thigh. “I don’t deserve you,” he mutters. “But you give yourself to me.”
“Don’t say things like that,” you chide as his fingers rub circles on the inside of your thigh. His touch is delicate and light, his fingers a paintbrush drawing gentle strokes on your skin. “It’s true,” he says. “But I won’t let you go again. I’m not waiting another 800 years. I won’t wait for even one.”
You’re the turn on that I can’t refuse You’re the fuse that detonates my body
You want to ask what on earth he’s talking about, but he silences you with a soft kiss. You can almost taste the yearning, the way his mouth fervently seeks yours with a taut intensity. There’s something– someone else there in the way he kisses you, a searing, claiming force behind the way his mouth moves against yours.
You wonder if he’ll ever explain it to you, exactly what goes on inside his head in moments like this. The times you feel like there’s something stronger behind his kisses and the way he touches you. The times he gets serious, the times he’s uncharacteristically quiet, staring out off the balcony, watching the waves lap gently against the sand in the middle of night. When the shadow of that someone else is there, dark and visible, behind his eyes.
You have a feeling he won’t. And that’s alright– you can live not fully knowing why he looks at you the way he does, like he is now, like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear if he turns away for even a moment.
As long as he never stops kissing you just like this.
You’re a well of reasons to keep crashing To keep crushing on your shore I’m still crushing That’s for sure
#pls i love RAF#and the angsty side to him#rafayel#lads#love and deepspace#lads fanfic#lads fluff#love and deepspace fic#qi yu#love and deep space#lnds#l&ds#l&ds rafayel#lads rafayel#love and deepspace rafayel#rafayel love and deepspace#love and deepspace angst#lads angst#lads x reader#lads x you#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#lnds fluff#lnds rafayel#rafayel l&ds#l&ds fanfiction#love and deepspace fanfiction
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Tally Hall Songs Iceberg
This is not counting covers of other artist's songs, however I am including the Mr. F Mixtapes
Air (Lay of the Land) - If you've heard a Tally Hall song but haven't heard of Tally Hall it's because of these. Not counting the Rob Ads.
MMMM, G&E, Miracle Musical, Shia LeBeouf, Perfect (1 song 29 celebrity impressions)
Surface (Sun in the Sand) - If you've spent a little bit of time interested in Tally Hall you've probably heard of these.
Complete Demos, Admittedly Incomplete Demos, Joe Hawley Joe Hawley, Not a Trampoline, Listed Black, Light & Night Magician's Elephant, Smile Like You Mean It, I Know It's Just the Same, We Need Cash, All of My Friends/I'm Gonna Win, Praise You, Just a Friend
Subsurface (Everything Suddenly Falls out of Sight) - The start of Tallying out.
Cojum Dip, Mr. President Musical, Popular Rob Originals ( Cuckoo, Going Purple, Country Good, ), Hawaii Pt 2 demos, Sketches 3d, yelwaH eoJ yelwaH eoJ, White Rabbit, Candle on the Water, Stationary Love, Nathan Naimark Theme, Pingry EP, Variations on a Cloud, Sleigh Ride Invincibility Star, Special, Weird Bed &/or Yes Please, Good Day Simlish
Center (Every Attachment is Made of the Light) - Yeah, sorry if you've heard these Tally Hall is part of you forever.
Toy Orchestra, Etudes 1 and 2, Hawaii Pt 2 Video Game OST, Happy Monster Band, Kazoo Song, Rob Disney Songs, Christian Bale is at Your Party, White Collar Prison, L'frou Jibet, Lady Madonna, Why Bother?, Gobble Chicken Song, Andrew Has No Power (It's So Sad), We Think We're Playing in a Band: A Tribute to Tally Hall
Bottom (Everything Will Fall Away) - If you've heard these you probably run a tally hall blog or YT channel, Tally Hall is no longer part of you, it controls you.
Maybe in the Night, At Least a Day, Grandpa is Hiding, Tomorrow and Today, Videojuegos, Club Can't Handle Me, Casey Shea's Music ( In Your Head, Love is Here to Stay, Take the Bite )
In The Water (To Order From the Disarray) - Some of these are only on SoundCloud, genuinely impressive if you know most of these.
Rob Rarities ( Chevrolet, Comcast Xfinity, Einstein, I Stand by Your Side, Monopoly and Clue, Summer Song, The Animator, Take a Second Chance on Me + Together Forever (TGaMM), Winter Song ), Joe Rarities ( Dot's Uke, Pu (Woo~Hoo) ), Andrew Live Unreleased ( Fishes, Good Morning Mr. Butterfly, Monsters, Someone Will Be There, Worlds in My Head ), Mr. F ( Yeah Yeah Without Me Vampire Sea, Mix Tape, Mix Tape 2, Mix Tape 3, Top of the Park, Ann Arbor MI August 9th 2019 ), The Baker Bros
Honorary Mentions (There are Some Things We are Never Meant to Know) - These are currently lost media or just things I couldn't find a recording of. If you have a link to one of these lmk please.
Toys R Us, Three Tales From a Messy Kitchen, Let Your Little Light Shine, the song at the end of Mobile Phone Premonition (This is probably a cover, not a lot is known about it)
Honorary Honorary Mentions (Who Do We Think We Are) - These are partial or bad recordings, but not quite lost media, and as such they appear elsewhere in this list as well.
Kazoo Song, The Start of Our City, At Least a Day
#tally hall#rob cantor#zubin sedghi#joe hawley#andrew horowitz#ross federman#bora karaca#tallyhall#miracle musical#iceberg#Mr. F#Casey Shea
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- SUMMER SONG -
word count: 1.2k
plot: leon is back from college and you have some fun together ; )
warnings: oral (f receiving), fluff, awkwardness, re2 leon !
notes: haii, hope u guys enjoy this !🤍
you met leon on a hot summer day, sweat dripped down your neck as you planted some flowers in your garden, a family has just moved into the house beside yours, specifically his family . you still hadn't met any of them yet but you wanted to, lucky for you right when you got up from your knees leon was passing by your gate, you waved at him and he waved back, your first interacting with your neighbor! now that was three years ago . you had just finished high school and college was right around the corner, leon on the other hand was visiting his parents for the summer, he was now twenty one years old, a three year age gap wasn't that bad, right?
his parents had so generously invented everyone on the block to they're house for a pool party or rather a barbeque, you chose your swimsuit and put on your sandals, you and your parents made your way to they're home, knocking on their door . when the door swung open instead of seeing leon's parents like you expected you saw him, fuck what were you gonna say, luckily your parents could tell you were stuck and they started to greet him, he stepped aside, letting you come in, they're house was big, not like rich rich big, but definitely big
leon guided you to they're garden where the pool and everyone else was, you sat down on a lawn chair and unexpectedly leon sat down next to you . you immediately panicked, your mind racing while thinking about what to say, 'how was high school?' leon broke the silence, you quickly thought of a short response, 'oh, good...I think' he chuckled, 'how was college?' you asked, 'fun, stressful too' you nodded your head, the silence was comfortable but leon got up and patted you on your shoulder, 'you want something to drink?' you looked up at him from your seat and nodded, 'use your words' he gently demanded, that caught you by surprise but before you could think words were already coming out of your mouth
'I would like a glass of water' he smiled and nodded, walking off to go get the both of your drinks . minutes later he came back with two plastic cups, one with water and the other one with beet, right he could drink . he stopped in front of you, 'you wanna sit by the pool?' you were to focused on how good he looks in the sun to form a sentence, all you could let out was a weak 'mhm' before standing up and taking your glass . you sat down at the pool, dipping your calves in the water and sipping on your drink, leon sat next to you and leaned back, fuck he looked so good, you thought as you tried your absolute best to not stare
he started to make conversation, yet the conversation was mostly him talking, but you didn't mind, you could listen to him talk for hours . suddenly you spaced out, completely lost in thought, you don't particularly know about what but you do know it was about leon, maybe it was about his eyes, maybe his hair or maybe his hands, 'you look really pretty in your bathing suit, the colors suit you' his words broke your train of thought, 'huh?' you whipped your head in his direction, 'I said, you look pretty in your bathing suit '
'oh' you awkwardly cleared your throat, 'thank you', you wanted to giggle like a school girl, leon kennedy just called your pretty, sure it wasn't actually that big of a deal, he probably calls a bunch of girls pretty, especially with all the college girls he was around . 'you wanna go inside? I can show you my room' you thought about it, was going into his room really a good idea? probably not but that didn't stop you . holding his hand you slipped away from the rest of the people, he led you to his room, up the stairs and first door to the left
you sat down on his bed, he started to show you all his collections, he looked so cute explaining all his stuff to you . you giggled at every dumb joke he made and nodded as he talked about all the "interesting" facts about video games, you could get used to being around him . once he was done he sat in his desk chair, 'so...' he trailed off, it was an awkward situation, a pretty girl was in his room and he'd spent ten minutes geeking out on her . with all the thoughts going through your head one of them came out of your mouth, 'leon I want you' his head perked up as you said that, did he hear you right?
he chuckled and stood up, he slowly walked over to you, his pointer finger and thumb capturing your chin, forcing you to look up at him, 'what did you say?' he said with a light smirk on his face, fuck, he was forcing you to repeat yourself. I... want you' you cringed as you said it, you couldn't believe you actually let that slip out. his thumb traveled up to your cheek, he gently caressing it, he took in the sight of you, your eyes wide and your lips parted, 'pretty' he mumbled before crashing his lips into yours
it took you a second to register what was happening, when you did you kissed back, his lips feeling like heaven against yours. he gently and slowly pushed you onto his bed, his hands placed on your hips with his fingers digging into the bone. you winced or rather moaned when he bit your bottom lip, he chuckled against your lips. your hands trailed up his spine to his hair, your fingers gripping on to it as the kiss became sloppy, he hooked his finger on the waistband of the bottom part of your bikini, 'can I?" you quickly nodded
'yes, please get it off' you whined, he slid it down and kissed the inside of your thighs, he hooked your legs on his shoulders and gave your clit a kiss, you moaned from the stimulation.
he licked a stripe from your the bottom of your cunt to the top before sliding his tongue inside you, 'fuck' you whined out in pleasure, he replaced his tongue with his two of his fingers, curling them inside you, your hips bucked and you dug the back of your head into the pillow below you. his mouth quickly moved to your clit, kissing and licking it, he was practically making out with your pussy
his fingers slid in and out of your gummy walls, you felt an intense feeling bubbling up in your stomach, 'leon, gonna cum, please don't stop' he complied to your request, he curled his digits into you on more time before he felt your clench around him and cum, he help you through your orgasm, your mouth agape and your eyes shut as you came. he gave you clit one last kiss before sliding his fingers out of you, licking and sucking all your juices off them
you regained your senses and opened your eyes, he roughly kissed you and messaged your tits, 'wanna make you cum too’ you said inbetween kisses, he shook his head
'you can do that another time'
another time?
#leon kennedy x fem reader#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x reader#resident evil x female reader#resident evil x you#resident evil x reader
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The bitterness that stirred within him threatened to spill out. His heart pounding while he still clinged to him, that glare only tightening. Every bit of him wanted to rant and rave about all the bullshit that he had put him through. And just for his sake? Was that some kind of sick joke? The years that Vox spent admiring him, all of it had felt like it had been a waste of time. Pushed away, heartbroken -- betrayed and abandoned. All of those things had occurred first in life and then in his afterlife. And it had all been to protect him? That was the part that he struggled with the most, hearing him explain that. The idea that he might hold him back. Ironic that Alastor viewed him to be something greater, when it had been Vox who had always admired him here in Hell for the same reasons. Powerful, decisive, cunning... creative and charming. He'd been all those things. And now that he knew his true identity it only made so much more sense why it had been so easy for him to fall for him a second time. Vincent had died a wealthy man, convinced he had bought himself happiness where he hadn't been able to obtain it elsewhere. Never fully committing to marriage or anything of that nature. A liar and a cheat through and through. But there had always been a piece missing in his life. When he arrived in Hell he had determination to make things different. Lead an even more successful life as an Overlord and a powerful one at that! But he'd fallen into the same song and dance. Admiring a charming demon and with a thing for radio, no doubt. It had never occurred to him that they had been meeting again for a second time. Why? Well because he had no idea of the deeds he committed. It had all just been chalked off for his love for media in combination with the one who was behind it. And it turned out to be more the latter than he had realized. Still it left a bitter taste in his mouth to think if they had known -- would it have ended differently?
The touch to the side of his face suddenly halted all the bitter thoughts rumbling through his mind. His eyes widened as he froze at the contact while small blue sparks trembled through his antenna. " And so it always felt selfish of me to accept or even say out loud that I have always loved you, even when I didn't realize what it was. " Those words cut through him like a hot knife. And for a moment he couldn't breathe anymore. He had no idea what to say. Stunned into a silence where all he could do was stare at him, wide eyed. All this time... all this time... it had been reciprocated? He wasn't sure how to process that. But what came out of him was a short, heart breaking laugh of disbelief. He released him with one hand to press it to the top of his screen. "You.. you gotta be kidding me! Haha--! Oh, if this is some fated bullshit..." Oh, the heart ache was just bleeding from him now and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
"Please! I never asked for protection, so spare me from that! But this? This?!" The same hand that he had reached to press to his screen now reached for his face. The touch at first threatened to press the tips of his claws into the side of his face, but it quickly eased -- as though he couldn't bring himself to harm him. Instead, his palm gently caressed the side of his face. "...I fucking hate you for this! But fuck -- I'd do anything for you...Alastor.... Alex-- because I-- still love you."
"Soulmates? SOULMATES--" Another pause while his screen glitched out again, this time lasting a little longer before he came back online again. The frustration had pushed on his nerves. Written all over that screen of his with his swirling hypnotic eye and the way his brows furrowed over his eyes. Even the tones of his voice between glitches was full of anger. Why was he so angry? Because it wasn't anger he felt. Not really. Vox's grip around him tightened again, those claws pressing through the fabric, though not quite hard enough to pierce through to the skin beneath. He could hurt him right now, send a shock through him. That would be easy, or even ensnare him in his many cables. But he did neither of these things. In fact the only thing he was doing was holding onto him as if he was afraid of letting him go. Despite the tones of his voice and the constant overload it was causing him, Vox wasn't doing anything but holding him against himself. As though that might somehow fix the pain that was stabbing him in the chest currently. Over and over again with each added word, every truth that had been spilled to him. A tragic story revealed - a misunderstanding. Or maybe they just had a loss of communication. He stilled while he explained himself, though it didn't stop that eye from swirling in his frustration as he listened. His teeth clenched tightly. Now the what ifs flooded his mind as they were presented to him. What would he have done if he had known back then? Thinking back to the kind of young man he used to be -- a stand up fellow back in the day, full of ambition and vigor. It seemed he had a bright future ahead of him, even from a young age. But that was not where it went or how it had ended up. A lifetime of lying, cheating and stealing -- that's what had gotten him in Hell. He earned his place here just as much as Alastor had. But in a different way, maybe he hadn't killed anyone but he had convinced people to do things unsavory for him. He had stolen from them and sold lies to make himself wealthy. "So you killed people then... there's a fucking surprise." His words were flat, but calmer. Slowly his expression easing back into its normal state. Soulmates. He kept using that word. Did that actually exist? And if it did-- how the hell were they supposed to know? Vox pulled back enough to look at him, his brows were still knitted tightly over his eyes, which were narrowed, but the glare was mild now. It seemed the realization that they had drifted apart in life had been because of concern eased some of the rage coursing through him. Or... maybe he was just more accepting of the reason being concern because it confirmed that what he had felt back then might not have been so one sided. As one sided as it had felt. That was only a small portion of all the heartache he felt though. It barely scratched the surface of everything that they had been through.
"Did you really think it'd stop just because you pushed me away?" It appeared that his calming down had at least eased some of his glitching. For the moment anyway. "I left because I couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't stand living in that town without you. And did I live a great life? Ha! Maybe for myself -- I left and created an entire following to do exactly what I asked them to do. I took advantage of weak minded people to advance my own career because it was the only thing I could control." "I lied to them. Took their money and led them like sheep into a web of false beliefs. All because I wanted to feel important--" His grip tightened again. "--And then I fucking died in an accident, go figure! Crushed to death during a god damn televised event!" Why was he admitting all of his sins? Was it because he had come clean too? Maybe so. But he had a point to make here. Leading a cult, selling lies... he brainwashed people just as much as he does now. But those were all things that had been unknown to Alastor. They'd been well established after his death. Vox just at the prime of his career whenever he had died on set. A loose monitor falling from where it had been rigged up and crushing him. It was a little ironic in the end that he should arrive to Hell with the head of the very thing that had been the end of him. The TV Demon. Fate was a twisted bitch, truly. "You want to know why I bothered? Because it never fucking stopped for me!" His voice was starting to pick up again, as the pain once more gripped his chest. It seemed to worsen whenever he started to talk about his feelings, specifically. "I died ALONE because I never got over it -- YOU! And then I come to Hell and have to go through it AGAIN?!!" His display flickered again while blue sparks ran through him once again. "I bother because I CAN--T STO--P!!" Loving him, he meant. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm down again. "If THIS is what soulmates are, then I want to know why the fuck I got dragged into it. And who decided I was the one on the short end of the fucking stick?" Because he was convinced that the demon before him had long sense gotten over anything he might have felt. It was all in the past for him, wasn't it?
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you've got a 9 to 5, so i'll take the night shift
and i'll never see you again if i can help it
#animatic wip#saints art#bkdk#i've already posted this wip before i think but it's making me feel emotional now#going insane#and then suddenly every song was about you#im sorry
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Hi !! I was wondering if there was any song that you associate with Forgettable AU ? Hope you'll have a good day!!
EHEHE YEAH
Okay so, I was trying to choose ONE but I can't cause there's like sooo many, I have a whole playlist (THAT IS A MESS, SO I'M PROBABLY NOT GOING TO SHARE THAT)
But, uhh, lately I've been super obsessed with "Slipping through my fingers" by ABBA and it reminds me SO much of this AU, specifically of Sans, and it makes me sad
I am going to make an animatic with that song one day!! I promise!! Cause it was one of the songs that inspired me to make the AU on the first place... the angst........
#it's a funny story#like I found out about the Papyrus is Gaster theory and AUGHH I WAS SO OBSESSED#but like I wasn't gonna do anything about it#AND THEN WHILE LISTENING TO MUSIC I HEARD SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS AND SUDDENLY I HAD A SCENE IN MY MIND#A SCENE THAT I NEEDED TO MAKE#I NEEDED TO MAKE A PAPYRUS IS GASTER AU JUST TO MAKE THAT#there's some other song that also had this effect on me but like#i love abba#Some other songs that remind of this AU are “two birds” and “my time” (not the omori version btw the original one)#and more abba songs but like in weird ways I just#I love abba so much#I will find ways to include their songs in every fandom I'm in#I WOULD MENTION MORE SONG BUT HONESTLY I HAVE A VERY CRINGE TASTE IN MUSIC LMAO AND MOST DON'T MAKE SENSE ON WHY THEY REMIND ME OF THE AU#JUST DO FOR SOME REASON#but yeaahh:]#oh another song that sold me to the idea that I HAD to make this au was “love like you”!#yeah...#answered ask
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