#mom got it within the first minute of the song

[coco-loco-nut]

Champagne Problems

pairing: Oscar x reader

summary: the thrill of winning is intoxicating, maybe even more than the thrill of love

masterlist requests open

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The crowd roars as you lift up your trophy, smiling proudly beside your teammate. You won the race and took home the first female 1-2. Cameras pan to the crowd, stopping briefly on a recently retired Oscar. He won three drivers championships and decided to leave formula one, however he remains a fixture in the paddock by supporting you.

“To my girls!” your team principal cheers as she begins to spray both of you with champagne. You are becoming a feature on the top step and it’s addicting. You and your teammate exude pure joy as you battle to drench one another in champagne, reaching a high you will forever chase.

“I love you guys,” you tell them as you pose for a photo.

“I’m winning next time,” your teammate gently nudges your ribs.

“You’ll have to take me out,” you joke, but the charged air between you tells a different story.

Oscar waits in your drivers room as you finish your media duties. He looks around, surprised at how sterile it is. The only photos decorating the room show you on the top step or receiving the pole position trophy. Oscar kept little things in his. A photo of the two of you on the beach back home in Australia, a fake plant you got him after joking he had the opposite of a green thumb, a little note from his mom. Yours looked like you only cared about winning.

You are taken by surprise when you walk in, Oscar’s always shy smile greeting you.

“Osc! Hi!” you cross the small room into his waiting embrace.

“Hi baby, incredible race today,” Oscar says warmly.

“Thanks, it feels great to be winning more consistently,” you relax, peeling off the ‘fresh’ fireproofs that stick to your champagne soaked skin despite changing before media.

“Maybe I won’t be the only championship winner soon,” Oscar’s eyes sparkle as you laugh happily at the idea.

“Hopefully. I just want to celebrate this win first,” you slip into the shower, washing away the the sweat and champagne.

“The guys already got a bar,” Oscar tells you, your friends happy to celebrate with you.

“Ready to head out?” you ask fifteen minutes later, hair slightly damp and sporting one of Oscar’s old hoodies.

“Yeah, let’s go,” his hand intertwines with yours. a familiar warmth as you walk through the paddock. “This place was a madhouse earlier after you won,” Oscar says, a different kind of chaos now filling it as teams work to move to the next race.

“It’s nice to be on this side of it,” you take the less crowded way, avoiding fans and photographers. “Have you thought about racing again post-retirement?” you ask.

“Some stand alone races, sure. I haven’t thought about full time. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” you shrug. Oscar doesn’t push it but he does make a mental note to ask again later in the season.

Within the hour you pull up to the club, immediately handed a glass of champagne as the grid and your team gathers to celebrate with you and your teammate.

Oscar stands at the bar beside Jack, who watches Oscar pull out his wallet to pay for a drink. A photo of you falls out with his credit card.

“You really love her,” Jack smiles, sipping his drink.

“Yeah, I do,” Oscar returns his countryman’s smile and leans in a little closer. “My mom gave me her ring,”

“Congrats man, that’s exciting,” Jack’s reply is cut off by you dragging Oscar onto the dance floor, his hand holding yours as he spins you around.

The lights flash, bodies packed tightly on the floor, but Oscar keeps a hold of you. A few songs pass and he opens his mouth to yell something to you, but you drop his hand and run off to a couple drivers who distracted you from him. Oscar stands on the floor, watching you for a moment before finding a friend to chat with. You look back at the dance floor and frown, disappointed that you couldn’t see where Oscar went.

You continued to chase the high throughout the rest of the season, no win was enough to satisfy you, especially not when you kept getting closer and closer to the championship. Rumors began to circulate that you would retire once you won, join Oscar in the post-racing life. Your contract was up after this year and you hadn’t signed a new one.

Oscar spent races planning. He figured out what race you will have won the championship and invited his family to a surprise celebration, one he planned to propose to you at. Only Hattie knew of the plan.

You won the championship right when Oscar expected you to. The thrill, the high of winning, was everything you craved and more. Another piece of fuel for your addiction. Oscar made a comment about how convenient the family dinner being so soon was, an opportunity to celebrate your win with his family and your family. So you flew back to your hometown in Australia with him for the supposed normal dinner.

“Congratulations!” the families and friends cheered as you and Oscar walked in. Despite being overwhelmed with joy, something in you feels off, but you push it down. You make the small talk and make your rounds with Oscar. Hattie pours the expensive champagne and gives everyone a glass, then it happens.

Oscar gets on one knee. Your heart drops as your grip on the champagne flute tightens. You two never discussed marriage, and you never had an answer about it until now.

“Osc, please stand up,” you tensely whisper, but he clears his throat anyway. Your shoulders are tense as you stand there awkwardly, loved ones circling you.

“Y/n, my champion, there is nothing I want to do more than to marry you. I want to explore life after F1 with you, and slow down with you. You make me a better person, our lives are woven together, and I want to keep it that way. Will you marry me?” Oscar asks as your eyes well with tears. The ring box opens to show his mother’s ring.

“No. I’m moving to America, I wanted to tell you tonight. I’m racing in Indycar next year. I love you, but I don’t think that I can be that person for you,” you shake your head, taking a step back. “I’m so sorry,” you bolt. Oscar stands up and watches you disappear from the room as an awkward silence falls. He isn’t sure who pulls him into a hug as his own tears fall.

You didn’t know until he asked, but you both know there is no coming back from that. You booked the next flight to Monaco and Oscar booked the final night train to Melbourne.

Part of Oscar wants to just get lost in a crowd and disappear, but another part of him craves the silence the night train gives him. He isn’t sure which is best for the situation.

You ghosted his friends when they reached out to check on you, knowing that Oscar is better off without you now. His family told him you would never settle down until you were finished chasing the high of winning, champagne problems as the media called it.

Instead you kept silent tabs on him as you focused on learning a new series, watching as he falls in love with someone else. An old flame from his studies when he raced in feeder series. You watch as she treats him better than you, and you are happy about it. You still love him, but it’s the kind of love that is best from afar. one that appreciates him finding someone who fixed the mess you left and helps him forget you.

[thevoidstaredback]

I have How Can I Refuse (Barbie: The Princess and the Popper) stuck in my head

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: little do you know

authors note: this is part three of the ’can you stand the rain’ mini series within dreamland. make sure you’ve read ’the rough patch’ and 'faded' before reading this one.

warnings: angst (including discussion and mention of disease)

words: 13k

song inspo/rec listening: little do you know by alex and sierra

Lina isn’t having a good day.

Not really. 

It’s not horrible, but it’s not great, either.

Almost burning herself with her flat iron, completely forgetting about that quiz in Geometry that she’s certain she probably flunked, on top of a shitty soccer practice, she’s just ready for the day to be over so that she can try again tomorrow. 

Never mind the fact that she’s had more….not so great days than she’d like to admit. 

Some really bad days, even.

But, fresh out of the shower, ready and eager to call it a day by getting in bed and sleeping her problems—not really—away, seems like the best plan. Unfortunately, it’s a plan that won’t come to fruition. It doesn’t come to fruition because the minute Lina opens the door to her bedroom, not only is the light already on, but her space is occupied.

Her siblings. All of them sans Aroha who was put to bed by their mom almost an hour ago. 

Leya sits on her twin sister's bed, legs crossed, chewing down on her bottom lip. A clear indication of anxiety. Aria is right next to her in the same position, looking even more worried than her big sister. Koa sits at the chair at her desk, Kai on her fluffy bean bag. Normally, she’d tell him to get off, but the bothered expression on his face, Koa’s as well, has her biting back her comment.

Tama stands, leaning against the wall near the doors of her balcony, arms crossed, gaze mostly downward, eyes lifting up to hers only for a minute. Lina frowns. Of all her brothers and sisters, Tama is the only one who doesn’t look nervous or anxious or even frightened.

He looks pissed off.

Lina waits to close, and lock, the door behind her before stepping into the room, gaze suspicious. “What’s going on?”

Tama is the first to answer. “We need to talk.”

Lina scoffs. “Clearly.” She also crosses her arms, expression softening as she looks at her twin. “What’s going on, sissy?

Except, it’s not her womb mate who answers. It’s instead a clearly shaken Samaria. “Mom and dad aren’t sleeping in the same room anymore.” 

“Wh–what?” Lina has to break a small smile. It has to be the craziest thing she’s heard all day, and she’s not afraid to express as such. “That’s ridiculous.”

Aria shakes her head. “I saw it.” Shifting on the bed, she starts to explain. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” Just that portion makes Lina’s smile drop. She’s never known her little sister to not be able to sleep, but something tells Lina she knows exactly why. Not that she’ll admit it. Not aloud, at least. “So, I got up around 1 to get some Melatonin out of the kitchen, and when I was coming up the steps, I saw daddy go in one of the guest bedrooms.”

Lina stills. “What?”

Leya’s frown deepens. “I know.”

Again, another unimaginable thing, prompting Lina to shake her head. “He was probably getting something.”

“I waited, Lina,” comes Samaria’s small voice, her shoulders dropping. “I waited for 15 minutes on the stairs to see if he would come out.” Her voice goes quiet, frown deepening like her sister beside her. “He didn’t.”

Lina has never really been the child with nothing to say. In fact, most would argue that she has too much to say. No sign of a filter anywhere. Her father’s daughter in every sense and way. But, in that moment, she’s truly speechless. Koa is the one to voice exactly what she’s thinking.

“That’s never happened before.” He looks around the room. “This has never happened before.”

“It’s getting worse,” Kai adds, making eye contact with Lina. “First it was the ignoring each other, then the fighting, and now they’re not even sleeping in the same room?” He shakes his head, jaw clenching. “Something’s going on with them.”

“I think we know what’s going on.” Tama breaks his silence, voice just as tight as the expression on his face. “Dad did something.”

At that, Lina breaks her silence. “What?” 

Tama kicks his foot off the wall, arms still crossed. “It’s obvious, Lina, and you know it.” His eyes flash with something before hardening once more. “I think he che—”

“Don’t you say that,” Leya’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and threatening almost. It draws all sets of eyes on her. “Dad would never cheat on mom.”

“Then, why is all this happening?” He demands, anger clearly masking the same fear and confusion the rest of them are experiencing. “And, if he’s not the one who did something, then why isn’t he in their bedroom and mom the one in the guest room? She put him out.” 

“That’s not even like dad,” Koa speaks up, looking at his twin. “He loves mom.”

“He loves all of us,” Lina corrects, demanding the attention and floor once more. “And, he would never hurt her or us like that.” Lina’s second statement is directed to her younger brother, her best friend in a lot of ways, different from her connection with Leya but still deep. However, in that moment, they couldn’t be on two different pages. She sees it though. Sees that the anger is just a cover-up for what he’s really feeling. They’re similar like that. Emotions sometimes being harder for them to open up about, but right now, in this moment, she doesn’t have the luxury of letting those feelings flow.

Her siblings need her.

It’s time to be the big sister. 

“Look guys, Tama is right that something is definitely going on, but it’s not that. It’s….something they’re not telling us, and it’s probably because it’s none of our business.” Which, Lina can wholly understand, she may only be almost 15, but she’s smart enough to know there are some things husbands and wives keep between themselves, and this has to be one of them. “But, what we do know is how busy they’ve been these past few months. Ripping and running, taking care of us.” She frowns a bit. “They barely have time for themselves.” Or each other. “We’ve gotta….we’ve gotta help them.” She has the focus of all her siblings, something sustains as she sets her plan in motion. “We are going to help them.”

Samaria is the one to ask, voice still low, concern still abundant. “But, how?”

Kai voices agreement, shrugging and reminding, “we’re just kids.” 

“That doesn’t mean we’re helpless,” is her calm counter, Lina’s brain calculating and planning in real time as she shares her plans. “We can help them, and we will by easing their stress. Not making things hard for him.” She starts with Koa and Kai. “No more hacking.” Then Aria, “I know you like to talk about and do your plays for them, but for right now, if you have something to share, share it with one of us. And no asking daddy for anything. Mommy, neither.” Then, Leya, her gaze softening. “Sissy, if your anxiety gets bad, talk to me. If it happens at school, text me. I’ll help you.” Finally, Tama. Lina takes a deep breath. “You and I can’t crash out like we do. If someone pisses us off, we just have to brush shit off or something. Work it out in the gym.” A look around the room, a general statement. “We can’t make things harder for them, you guys. They can’t…they can’t handle it right now.”

Lina won’t admit it, but a part of her is scared what will happen if they don’t make these changes.

What it could mean for the family as a whole. 

Koa speaks up, suggesting, “we could maybe pick up some chores, too.”

Leya nods, clearly agreeing. “Take over laundry.”

“We can also alternate cleaning the kitchen, maybe even cooking,” Samaria adds, the rest of them clearly in agreement.

“Exactly. We do as much as we can so they can do as little as possible.” It feels like a good, solid plan, one that clearly has the cosign of them all, Tama included, who offers a small nod of agreement.

Lina is ready to also suggest they try to handle dinner more days than not when a small knock on her door is followed by it opening. Her expression softens. 

“Roro, what are you doing up?”

Aroha answers in the softest voice, rubbing at her eyes. “I had a bad dream.” A frown followed up with an almost emotional, “and, mommy and daddy didn’t answer the door when I knocked.”

Lina stills. Was it because mom didn’t want Aroha seeing that daddy wasn’t sleeping in the room with her? Is she in the bathroom, maybe? Slept through the knocking? Lina has no idea, she just watches as Leya opens her arm for Roro who shuffles over to the bed, climbing into Leya’s lap as she holds her and kisses the top of her head.

Sighing, Lina closes the door and waits for Leya to calm down their little sister before sitting on the edge of her bed. “Aroha…” Roro’s eyes fall on her, waiting and expecting. “I know…I know you like to wear your costumes to school, but you gotta wear your uniform every day for a little while.” Remembering something else, she adds, “and you gotta make sure to put all your toys away when you’re done playing, okay?”

Before Aroha can ask an understandable question of why, Leya is already five steps ahead. “We’re all trying to help mommy and daddy a little more, and make things easier for them, so they don’t get so stressed.” She cranes her head to look at her while asking. “Does that make sense?” 

Somewhat to Lina’s surprise, Aroha nods slowly, following up with a question of her own. Quiet. Soft. Hopeful. “And then they’ll be happy again?”

It’s such an innocent but valid question. One Leya, nor Lina, or any of the Reigns’ children, have the answer to, because they all have similar, scarier questions. 

Can their parents be happy again?

As her siblings spill out, all in agreement with the plan, Leya holding Aroha who will sleep with her tonight, Lina extends her arm to stop Tama as he’s the last to leave.

She looks at him. “Hey.” Lina moves to close the door, standing and leaning against it. “Don’t do that.”

Tama gives it away without even saying a word, eyes diverted to the corner of her room, the bookshelf that houses countless trophies. Similar to the ones in his room. “Do what?”

“That thing we do,” she sighs. “Where we have a shit ton of feelings and hold it all in.” A pause. “Or, take it out on people.”

He cracks the smallest smile, and in that moment, he reminds her a lot of the man he’s holding that anger towards. 

“What you’re thinking, Tamasa….” Her little brother returns his gaze to her, smile wiped and replaced with that same expression. “He didn’t do it. Daddy would never cheat on mom.” Words already said but also words that need to be repeated. “You’ve seen how he is with her. He’s not like that with anyone except her. He loves her.”

A heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. “I know. I know. It’s just…” He shakes his head, running his hands through his long hair. “I just don't know what else to think. Whatever it is has to be bad for her to put him out the room, Lina.”

“I agree.” Because, she does. Catalina can’t and won’t deny that. “But, it’s not that, and it will never be that, because I know daddy, and so do you. He’s not that kinda guy.” Lina sighs, pulling from historical receipts. “The way you treat mommy. How protective you are of her and how much you love her. Where do you think you got that from?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. Doesn’t need one. “Daddy. You got it from daddy. Since you were little, he’s always shown and talked with you about how women should be treated. So, why would he do the opposite?”

She’s met with silence, expected and appreciated, because she knows, like herself, when Tama is quiet, it’s because he’s thinking. Reflecting. Processing.

Just like daddy.

“You’re right.” A sigh of defeat, the anger from earlier almost entirely melted away. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Lina sighs. “Exactly.” She reaches out her hand, lightly squeezing his shoulder. “We’re gonna get through this….alright?”

A small nod, their gazes locked, the smallest wry smile falling on his face. “Thanks, Lina.” She smiles back. “Who knew you had a heart somewhere in there?”

“Shut up, dumbass.” She rolls her eyes, the two sharing laughter as she offers, “hey, you wanna join me for my workout tomorrow after school?”

His eyes light up, the answer and obvious one. “Hell yeah.” The older Tama gets, the more she’s found they bask and revel in their shared love of sports and fitness, the reunification of the “terror non-twins” as their Uncle Dwayne used to call them.

They share a fist bump before he leaves, allowing Lina the silence to process it all. The conversation. The reassurance and hope she hopes she successfully fed her siblings. Hope that she can only pray doesn’t turn out to be fruitless. 

—-----

It’s a sickening sense of deja vu. A level of dread Solana never in a million years thought she’d have to experience. A type of hurt and pain that feels more physical than anything yet weighs down her mental unlike anything else. It’s knives to the chest, slashing and stabbing, slowly, gradually, carving out deeper and deeper, finding new layers to mar. To scar. 

To burn. 

To say Solana has been doing well would be a lie. A bold faced lie. She was already struggling, more than she realized, but this….this….this has been something entirely different. Something that's had her reaching for her PRN pills she hasn’t taken in God knows how long. A necessity given the two panic attacks she’s had since that.

It’s just too much. All of it. Solana has always done her best to remain as “strong” as possible, largely for her children, her entire world. But, she’s only human, and a woman, a woman who finds herself facing a type of betrayal she would have bet her life could and would never happen.

She was wrong.

So so wrong.

The first few days are the hardest though. Even harder than trying to pretend like everything was okay for the sake of her children. A facade. 

He’s tried to speak with her. Several times. And, not just the forced conversation they manage in front of the kids but attempts to pull her to the side in those rare moments of privacy between the two. She shuns him every time. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk to him, because she does. Some part of her, at least. It’s that she can’t. She can’t, because Solana knows all she’ll do is just breakdown and cry. Not that she hasn’t done that already. It feels like all she’s done since then.

A brave face during the day only to sob profusely on the floor of their once shared bathroom, sitting against the locked door, legs pulled up to her chest as she cries into her thighs.

A privacy allotted due to her kicking Roman out of their bedroom. Their separation might not be able to come right away, but that doesn’t mean she can’t do what she can to keep as much distance between them as she can for the time being.

Because despite his protests, a separation is what’s desperately needed since that.

A horrible, awful suspicion confirmed that’s wrecked her entire world.

She tried her best to push the thoughts away. He would never do that to me. A hill she would have died on at one point, but a hill that she started to gradually descend at his changing behavior over the past few weeks to months. She figured it was work stuff, as that’s usually what causes Roman to shut down more or lean more on the irritated side. Not that he ever showed that side of her. He didn’t. He’d instead slip into a space of quiet, allowing her to comfort him. Rubbing his scalp as he laid on top of her. Shirtless, laying on the bed, as she sat on his back, giving him a massage. Sometimes just laying and sitting with him in silence. 

But, none of that happened. It hadn’t happened, because instead of welcoming her, he’d pushed her away. A distance between them she felt, saw widening but tried to make excuses for. The touch was less. The sex was non-existent. 

Tears burn her eyes as she recalls the few times she tried to initiate the latter, only for him to reject her, albeit kindly. 

“Not tonight, baby. I’m tired.” 

An understandable excuse, usually. But, not for her husband. Roman never turned down any opportunity to be intimate with her. Ever. 

But, he had, and now….now, she’s certain she knows why.

Solana sniffles and wipes at her eyes, continuing to overthink and drown in her thoughts.

Revisiting and analyzing every interaction with him over the past few weeks, from the most minute of details that seemed irrelevant at times to the more overt ones, not even involving him. 

The way she’d casually spoke to Matteo during one of his trips to the house to see the kids and bring over his own. How she’d mentioned Roman seemed more tense than usual. Insinuating concern. The way his brother simply dismissed those concerns, kindly and in a Matteo sort of manner, hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “I’m sure he’s fine.” His eyes held a kindness and something else she now wonders was something else. “You know how Roman is.”

No. No, she doesn’t. Because Roman, her Roman, would never do something like this.

Would never do this to her. 

And, then the overthinking continued. Did Matteo know? Was he simply covering for his little brother? She’d always heard that when men cheat, it’s not uncommon for their closest male friends to know, and who was closer to Roman than this brother?

Dwayne, as well, but she has no evidence to support that.

Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop the spiraling from continuing. 

Worsening as Solana resulted to looking her up on Instagram. A public profile that boasted a variety of pictures, many of her smiling and posing, showing off an impressive body that anyone would envy. Including a mother of seven whose shape has changed over the years from age and multiple childbirths.

Celeste’s face is stunning, her waist tiny, hips and ass thick.

Just his type.

That only dug up another layer of anxiety. Tapped into long buried—or, so she thought—insecurities that once marred the very early days of her marriage. 

Solana comparing herself to other women. The type of women Roman once entertained. Maybe the type of women he still wants to entertain. Because, while Solana has definitely put on a little weight over the years from age and children, it seems her husband only gets better with age. At 54, he’s in arguably the best shape of his life. Any woman would want him. They’ve always fawned at his feet, and he’s always paid them no mind.

But, Celeste….something made her different. 

A sickening thought crossed Solana’s mind as she recalled another age-old saying.

“If he’s not getting it from you, he’s getting it from somewhere.”

Celeste

He’s been getting it from Celeste.

It brings her to the toilet, emptying the little food she’d had that day. Her appetite was all but gone the past few days, another indication of a pending depressive episode. 

The only thing that keeps her going is her kids, though it pains her to have to put on such an act in front of them. A necessity though, as Solana knows the pending separation between herself and Roman will be hard enough on them. And, she hates that. Hates that they’re even in this situation. Hating that that’s what most likely will happen once they figure….whatever out.

She hates it all.

Every single bit of it. 

—-------

It’s hard to say who notices it first. 

Roman or Solana. Maybe both, to some extent. Regardless as to who took notice first is less important as to the thing itself.

Neither parent would ever describe any of their children as bad. Far from it. They can just be….a lot, at times. All the time. But, that’s a given with most things, because at the end of the day, they’re just kids.

Because, one promise they’d made to each other, even before Lina and Leya were born was that they’d do anything and everything they could to make sure the kids had a childhood. That they got to be kids. That they got the experience Roman and Solana never truly had.

And for the most part, they’d like to think they’ve been successful with that. There’s not much the parents wouldn’t do for their babies, bending over backwards sometimes to ensure that happy and stress free, as much as possible, childhood. 

That’s why they took notice to the changes. Some subtle. Some more overt. Solana found herself not having to remind the kids of certain things like chores and homework. Roman didn’t have to repeat himself. Not once.

School mornings a thing of ease. Aroha coming down the steps already in her uniform, her hair also done, courtesy of Leya. Solana finding several of her kids in the kitchen sometimes before she could get there to start preparing dinner, either there to help her or already on the brink of finishing said dinner. 

Evenings were also a thing of ease. Roman didn’t have to spend two hours getting them all in their rooms and down for bed. It now took under an hour. 

The Littles even in the midst of some type of peace treaty, no arguing occurring between them. 

No protest. No pushback. It felt like the Twilight zone. It felt off, because something was off.

Very much so. 

Walking down the steps from her shower, Solana was fully prepared to clean the kitchen. Only to find it all done, all of her seven children boasting proud smiles, but none more than the youngest.

Aroha rushed over with all the excitement. “Look, mommy and daddy!” She points back to the kitchen. "We leaned it for you."

It's the acknowledgment of her husband that makes Solana realize Roman was nearby, clearly having just come from his office. A brief glance. Nothing more. She doesn’t maintain their eye contact. Not at all. 

Clearing her throat, Solana braves a smile, walking deeper into the kitchen. “It looks so nice.” It really does. She can tell it was a collaborative effort, as it’s been for the past few days since the start of her kids off behavior. “But, you guys don’t have to keep cleaning the kitchen for me. I want you to focus on your homework—”

“I don’t get homework,” Aroha announces, still with the biggest smile on her face. “So, I can do lots of cleaning!”

His deep voice sounds from behind. A chuckle. “You’re a kid, baby girl. You don’t need to be doing lots of cleaning.” A pause. “None of you do.”

Solana catches it, and she’s certain Roman does, too, the flick of something that appears in almost all of the kids’ expressions. Subtle but visible, with the exception of one, the youngest and most open with her often big feelings. 

Aroha’s eyes light up with excitement, as she asks with a big smile on her face. “Does that mean you guys are happy now?”

Leya gasps, the first to try to do damage control. “Roro.”

Solana frowns, too focused on her youngest, recognizing there’s clearly something behind that. Walking over and crouching down, Solana asks, “what do you mean, baby?”

Tama steps forward, nervousness visible. "It's nothing, mama."

Solana says nothing, knowing that the answer she's looking for won't come from him. Or the rest of them.

It'll come from Aroha.

And with the truest innocence of a young child, she shares with all of the excitement. “We’ve been really good so you and daddy can be happy again.” 

Solana has to hold back her tears. 

Them.

The kids have been doing all of this, bending over backwards, just to try to make them happy.

Damn.

Thankfully, Roman takes over, gently ordering the rest of them, on the same page as his wife, even without verbal communication. “Kids, come sit down.” 

Solana takes Aroha’s hand, guiding her to sit right next to her on the sofa, as the rest of the kids find various seats in their spacious living room. Roman sits in the love chair. 

Solana would be lying if she said the lack of him next to her, where he always sits when they need to discuss something with their children, isn’t felt. Necessary. But, still….difficult. 

Swallowing, being mindful of her tone and volume, she takes the lead, “you guys…your dad and I….” She stops herself, refusing to let herself cry. Not in front of her babies who have clearly been more impacted by all of this than she initially realized. “We’re going through something right now.”

“And, it has nothing to do with any of you,” Roman adds before anyone can say anything, warm eyes surveying the room. “It’s…it’s between us.”

“We know,” Lina says in a quiet voice, looking between Leya and Tama. “That’s why…we’ve been trying to help out more.” 

Leya nods. “We can do whatever you guys need. You just…you have to tell us.”

"And you only have to tell us once," Samaria interjects. "We promise."

The sweetest, kindest, most heartbreaking thing that Solana has heard in some time. A sentiment clearly shared by her husband, given the brief, shared glance between them.

Roman handles the next portion, voice equally firm as it is caring. “The only thing we need you all to do is be kids.”

That’s all they’ve ever wanted. Was for their children to be children, and to know that hasn’t been happening, maybe even longer than the past few days, is a tough pill to swallow. 

But, the clarification seems to only whip the premature smile off Aroha’s face. “So…so we didn’t make you happy again?”

“Oh baby,” Solana pulls her youngest into her arms, holding her and kissing the top of her head. “As long as mommy has you all, I’ll always be happy.” 

Even if happiness seems like a hard emotion to acquire these past few days, it’s still felt every time she looks at her children. Though in this moment, she’s filled with regret. Regret that her issues with her husband have bled over into her children, filling them with obvious worry that no child should have to experience. 

She hates it.

Hates it all. 

“Your dad…” Solana allows her gaze to fall on Roman, once more the two of them engaging in unspoken conversation. He gives a subtle nod, encouraging her to continue. “Your dad and I are gonna go away for a couple days. Probably a week.”

As expected, a bombardment of questions. 

“Why?” 

“When will you be back?”

“Can we come with you?”

“Is it because of us?”

It’s that last comment that has Roman beating Solana in the metaphorical race to immediately shoot that down. The last thing they want is any of the kids thinking what’s happening is somehow their fault. 

“Not at all. None of you have done anything wrong.” His voice is firm and final, as he makes eye contact with each and every one of them. “Mom and I just need some time to talk and figure out things, and we need to do it away from you all, so you don’t continue to worry and stress.”

Words similar to what she’d texted him not even an hour ago, recognizing that they couldn't go on the way that they were. 

Solana: i know we need to talk, but that’s not going to happen with the kids around. i talked with bayley and rhea, they’re gonna come stay with them for a week while we go away and try to figure all this out.

Roman: Where do you want to go?

Solana: fetu’s place…

Roman: Okay.

Naturally, both Bayley and Rhea were filled with questions, some she answered, most she didn’t. Truth be told, Solana hasn’t really talked much with anyone regarding what’s been going on within her marriage. She hasn’t wanted to. For a variety of reasons, most of which being the only person she really wanted to speak with was shutting her out.

And, now it seems the roles have reversed.

But, like she said in her text to him, this can’t continue, and it’s not going to get addressed so long as they have the kids to worry about and be mindful of. They both need to get away. 

Figure out how this separation is going to work, because Solana doesn’t know a lot of things, but what she does know is that some time apart is clearly what they need. 

Whether he wants it or not, and she knows he doesn’t, but perhaps seeing the impact their marital problems have been having on the kids will hopefully help him see her side of things. 

Even if just seeing just that impact on said kids just from their issues has her wondering if the separation will do more harm than it will good. 

—-------

The drive up to Fetu’s place is eerily similar to the first time she was taken to meet Roman’s late aunt, following an even more eerily similar incident. A misunderstanding, that time. 

This time…not so much.

Solana keeps her earbuds plugged in, body angled away from where he sits in the drivers seat. Eyes closed almost the entire time, sleep calls her name, but the discomfort of not being awake and conscious while in such close proximity to him is too much. Theres’s an unease that accompanies this closeted space, like being around him is too much. And, it is. Several times she has to fight back tears from spilling over.

It all hurts so much, and the first few days at the cabin are rough.

He tries to get her to talk, to open up, to actually discuss things. 

“Solana…we came here to talk.”

“Please just talk to me. Please.”

“Yell, scream, something, Sol. I need something.”

It goes in one ear and out the other. Pleads met with continued silence. He’s not wrong. She knows he’s not. If not for them, then for the kids, they have to make use of this rare alone time.

She won’t let it go to waste. She can’t. But, it’s utterly difficult to bring herself to it. She can’t even think of it without crying, and she knows he sees it. The way she quickly wipes at her eyes whenever he enters the room she’s in. The same way she sees that flash of hurt that appears in his eyes every time he witnesses the brunt of his betrayal.

The hurt he’s caused. 

After multiple failed attempts to initiate conversation, he doesn’t say much to her, and she doesn’t say anything to him. There’s continued attempts, similar to how it was back at the manor, but they’re not home, and she doesn’t have to fake shit for the sake of her babies. 

She ignores him. Ignores him the same way he’s ignored her the past few weeks, bordering on months. It’s petty, she knows this, but on top of the mountain of hurt he’s caused her to experience is anger. Anger at him. Anger at herself. Anger at her. Just a tremendous amount, and while she’s never considered herself to be a vindictive person, there’s a small part of Solana that finds joy in knowing she’s not the only one suffering. 

Roman’s distress is palpable. She can see and even feel his hurt, but it’s difficult for her to care, even with her selfless ways, when it’s a situation he put himself in.

Put them in. 

And, she’s not stupid, she knows that not only did she initiate this sort of “getaway,” but that they only have a number of remaining days to sit down and discuss things. That her children are expecting their parents to return back home the way they’re used to seeing them.

If only she was convinced that’ll be the case.

But, she’s not. Truth is that Solana isn’t sure just how she and Roman get back to where they were.

Or, if they even still can. 

She’s sitting out back on the patio, drawing, on the bench where she first sat so many years ago, enjoying the sounds of nature. Embracing the solitude. 

While it exists. 

Solana doesn’t bother to spare Roman a glance when she hears the backdoor open, nor does she care to lift or redirect her focus from the sketch at hand. 

Not that it makes a difference.

“I know you don’t want to speak with me right now,” he starts, and she’d be lying if it didn’t do something to her. Something strange. Something that has her heart feeling heavy all over again. “And, I'll respect that, Solana. But, I just….I need you to look at something for me.”

The pressure applied to the paper intensifies just a bit more at that last part. She doesn’t want to do anything for him.

A far cry from the woman who’s told him countless times over the years just the opposite. 

How things can change. 

Solana remains focused on her drawing—not really—as he places something beside her, something that has enough weight for her to feel the shift from the padding underneath her. Sparing a glance to the side, not to him, she sees it’s his laptop. A laptop bearing a variety of stickers, most courtesy of their children over the years always wanting to make it look “cool.”

Decorations he never saw to it to remove or even correct them on, because he just enjoyed their wanting to always be involved with him. In any sort of capacity.

It chips away just a bit at some of anger, because she cannot and will not deny what an amazing father he’s always been. The best. She’s always been so in awe of how he is with the kids. The same way she was in awe with how good he’s always been with and to her.

Again, what a switch.

Solana stares at it for a moment, as he clears his throat, voice strained. “Please.”

Another chip. Roman has never been a man to wear his heart on his sleeve or to be openly emotive. Except for with her and the kids, but it started with her. She’s always been the one he’s most open with, so it’s impossible for her to ignore the fact that he’s clearly just as much a mess as she is. Holding it together. Barely.

It…it tugs at her. She’s upset with him, but she doesn’t hate him.

She could never hate him. 

Still unable, or maybe unwilling to look at him, Solana simply offers a small nod. Okay. 

She doesn’t need to be looking at him to know that has to mean a lot to him. The smallest but more important of wins. 

“Thank you.”

Still no acknowledgement. She’s not there yet. 

It’s not until he walks back into the house, and Solana hears the sound of the door shutting that she sets aside her pen and sketchbook. Trades it in for the MacBook Pro, settling it in her lap and opening it, partially surprised to see it's no longer password protected.

But, it’s something she can’t think too much about because of what’s on the screen. It’s a video that’s paused, ready to be played. CTV footage. Footage of her.

Of Celeste. 

Solana is just about ready to pitch the laptop off the porch, suddenly filled with anger. What the hell is Roman trying to do? It feels like salt on an open would. It feels cruel, and while she knows good and well that Roman is more than capable of that, it’s never been directed towards her. 

She closes her eyes, forcing herself to take a deep breath. While Roman’s behavior and conduct has been….awful, to say the least, he has to have a purpose for wanting her to see this. A purpose that can’t be to make things worse. It has to be for a reason that’s intended to help. How, she’s not sure, but she also knows that at this point, what does she stand to lose?

She hits play. 

The footage begins, showing Celeste sitting at her desk, admiring her nails only to abruptly shift in her seat at the entrance of a man.

Roman.

He’s just stepped out of his office, expression hardened, walking past the desk right as Celeste stands up. “Mr. Reigns.” She clears her throat, adjusting that short ass dress of hers. “Can I—”

“Leave me alone.”

Abrupt. Curt. Mean.

Solana would be lying if she tried to deny a flurry of humor flutters within at the way Celeste’s smile quickly collapses into a frown. Embarrassed. She looks embarrassed. 

The clip transitions to the same setting. Celeste at her desk, alternating between typing and scrolling on her phone when instead of seeing Roman exit his office, he's instead seen arriving. Flanked by Dwayne and Matteo.

She stands up, flashing that flirty smile. “Gentlemen.”

Dwayne, unsurprisingly, returns the charm, removing the sunglasses from the top of his head. “I like that dress, sweet thing.” Solana rolls her eyes. Even at his big age, Dwayne continues to be the biggest flirt. But, it’s the reaction of her husband that Solana is focused on. 

Because there is no reaction. 

Roman actually rolls his eyes, Matteo chuckling as once again Celeste tries and fails to capture the attention of the Tribal Chief.

“Mr. Reigns, your meeting got pushed back—”

“I know.” Another clipped response as he doesn’t even look her way, and the three men head into his office space, the sound of Roman mumbling something that sounds a lot like “...annoying” before the door is shut, once again leaving Celeste standing there looking stupid.

And, that’s exactly how the rest of the footage goes. Celeste clearly trying to capture Roman’s attention, and him straight up ignoring, dismissing, or being straight up rude to her in the process. 

Solana watches the montage once, and then twice, searching for any and all cues of anything she could have missed. The only thing being the way Celeste transitioned about halfway through from calling Roman “Mr. Reigns” to just calling him Roman.

On the third watch is when she stops it not even halfway through. She slowly closes the laptop, mind racing, running, and and everywhere. 

She understands it now. Understands why he wanted her to watch. Beyond that. He wanted her to see for herself the dynamic, the “relationship” that existed between him and Celeste. A “relationship” that, based upon what she’s seen, was simply Celeste trying for her life to snag his attention but failing every time.

It’s…confusing. 

Solana is confused, because she knows what she just saw in the videos. But, she also knows what she saw that day. It doesn’t make any sense. How did it go from Roman barely acknowledging that girl’s existence to her being in his lap, straddling him?

Something different stirs within Solana. Something that has her no longer feeling like putting as much distance between herself and her husband. That desire is still there, but it doesn’t outweigh the other thing.

That sudden desire for answers and clarification. 

She’s ready to talk. 

—-----

“I watched the video.” It’s the first thing she says to him when she walks in the living room. He’s on the sofa, glasses on, iPad in hand. She stands before him, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, gaze even, voice steady. “All of it.”

He says nothing, his eyes never leaving hers as she walks over to sit on the sofa next to him. Not next to him. No, that feels….it feels too soon.

“Every minute,” she whispers, tightening the blanket as he hit the sleep button on the tablet, setting it on the coffee table. Solana shifts her focus to the rug that she can still recall Lina and Leya crawling all over the first time they took them here. The apple juice Tama spilled and waste, as he was too excited for the show he was watching on TV. 

Memories.

So many memories.

“Okay.” He sounds unsure, and that’s almost unnerving for her. Solana has never known her husband to be unsure of anything in his life. “What do you—”

“How did you not see it, Roman?” A whispered question. One she’s had since watching the footage. “How…how could you not tell what she was doing? What she wanted?” She shakes her head, emotion rising. “I told you to be careful. I warned you about her, and you didn’t listen.”

Because in the half hour that passed between Solana sitting on the bench and finally deciding to speak with her husband, more thoughts crossed her mind. Like what happened during those times where Celeste entered his office, a place where there were no cameras? Did something happen? It had to have, based on what Solana saw that day. 

Then, there’s the fact that she told him. Warned him to be careful. Expressed her discomfort with that girl, and he’d done nothing. A far cry from the man who's always moved heaven and earth for her and their kids. That Roman would have fired Celeste the minute Solana expressed her concerns, which looking back, deep down, Solana realizes that’s what she wanted him to do. 

But, he didn’t.

And, she can’t figure out why. 

Roman keeps his voice low.  “I know.” The quietest acknowledgement. No denial. No justification. Just validation. “Solana, I didn’t…my goal wasn’t to ignore you.”

At that, she scoffs. “That’s all you’ve done, Roman, is ignore me.” She shakes her head, finding her voice after days of overthinking and repressing. “I told you that I didn’t trust her, and you ignored me. I’ve tried to talk with you and—” She stops herself, emotions flooding along with countless previously silenced thoughts. “I’ve felt so lonely lately, Roman.” Beyond lately. For almost two months, Solana has felt this, felt this void in the wake of his distance. “Even when you’re here, you’re somewhere else. Physically present. Mentally elsewhere.” Her voice cracks, anger diminishing with each word that leaves her mouth. “You’ve shut me out.”

He looks at her, voice soft. “Baby—”

She closes her eyes. “I’ve always felt so close to you, but these past two months, I just….” She shakes her head, looking down, playing with her hands, finally voicing what she’s been too scared to say aloud. Afraid it would make it the truth. “I’ve felt like I’ve lost you.” A heartbreaking thing to admit to the man she once thought she couldn’t live without. Still does, in some ways. Solana lifts her head, eyes still closed, as she takes a deep breath. “So, when I opened that door and saw you with her—”

“Solana, nothing happened—”

“I started to blame myself.”

He pauses. “What?”

She opens her eyes, taking him in, taking in this man who’s held her heart for the better part of her life. Who she’s always considered her better half. Who saved her life so many years ago.

The man she loves. 

“I—” It’s such a difficult thing to share, to disclose, all of the many anxieties and concerns and thoughts she’s had since and about this whole thing. But, she knows it needs to come out, and if not now, then when? “I started—I started comparing myself to her.”

���Baby—”

“She’s young, and–and she’s beautiful, skinnier than me, and—” Solana blows out a shaky breath. “And, then I started thinking about what kind of wife I’ve been. If I was attentive enough, if I—I forced all this on you.” She gestures around them, shrugging helplessly. “If…having all these children is something I–I pressured you into, and I unintentionally pushed you in her arms–”

“Solana.” 

She gasps, eyes shooting open at the feel of his hands on her face. He’s no longer sitting on the sofa but instead on his knees in front of her, cradling her face, eyes burning into her with all the sincerity and honesty. “Solana, I love you. There’s no woman on this fucking earth I could ever want besides you, and don’t you ever fucking say that you pressured me into anything.” He swallows, clearly also feeling all the emotions that flow through her entire body. “I love our kids. The family we have, the family you’ve given me, means more to me than you could ever know.”

Looking at him, really looking at him, for the first time in days, since it all happened…Solana believes him. Believes he’s telling the truth. Similar sentiments he’s expressed to her over the years at various points, but something she needed to hear once more from him. 

Needed that reassurance. 

But, as helpful as it is, as much as it means to her, it still doesn’t answer one important ass question that she manages to ask him.

“So, how did we get here, Roman?”

Here. At Fetu’s place. At this place in their marriage. At this place in life.

But, instead of continuing to display a necessary vulnerability with her, Solana sees it. Sees the way he’s starting to shut down. “I don’t…” That’s all he can get out, because just like that, the brief spark of hope fades, stomped out by reemerging isolation. He’s separating himself again, and she can’t take it anymore. Solana stands up to leave, unable and unwilling to put up with any more rejection. Because that’s what he’s made her feel lately.

Rejected.

Roman is fast though, standing with her, his body practically pressed against hers, hands on her hips, holding her, keeping her from leaving. Her eyes momentarily flutter. Having him this close to her, the woodsy scent of his cologne invading her senses the same way he invades her private space.

It’s so hard. She’s missed him so much. 

Solana manages to lift her eyes to meet his, his gaze pleading an unspoken request. 

Please.

Torn and so lost, she ignores the screaming in her head to walk away and leave him be. Doesn’t allow it to dictate her behavior as she instead sits back down on the same sofa. He does the same, next to her. 

But, Solana scoots to the other end, placing some distance between them. Something that makes him wince almost but doesn’t prevent him from talking. Something that’s confusing to her as well. How can she both want and not want him at the same time? A cruel, wicked  dichotomy indeed. 

Roman clears his throat, voice still low. “I don’t want to make this about me.”

An easy thing to respond to. Probably the easiest thing in any of this. “But, it is about you, Roman.” Is her calm counter as she shifts, angling her body toward him, one leg up on the sofa, the other on the ground. “It’s about you. It’s about me. It’s about us. It all ties in together.”

He nods, clearly sitting on her words. His elbows are on his thighs, hands clasped together between slightly spread legs. He’s focused on the same rug that she’d previously used to reflect on the life they’ve worked so hard to build for themselves.

“Do you remember when I took Aroha to that birthday party back in January?” He suddenly asks, forcing her to think back hard. Their kids do so many things, it’s hard to keep up at times. “You couldn’t take her because—”

“I had to work,” Solana finishes for him. She remembers now. “Yes, what…what about it?”

Solana sees the way his jaw flexes, indicating he’s struggling to express himself. 

“I was the oldest person at that damn fucking party, and it…it got me thinking…” He trails off, clearly deep and heavy in thought. “I’m 54 years-old, Solana. I’ll be 55 in less than three months.”

She continues to study his side profile, struggling to follow just where he’s going. “Okay…” This is nothing new, nothing that comes as a surprise to her, and he knows this, so why they’re even discussing it is truly confusing her.

“Aroha is five. Five years old.” Solana shifts on the sofa once more, moving to her knees, frown deepening with every pained statement that leaves his mouth. Now…now, she’s starting to understand. “By the time she’s 18 and just graduating high school, I’ll be almost fucking 70 years old.”

Her chest tightens. “Roman…”

He continues, visibly deep in the throes of his distressing concerns regarding the fragility of life. “All I’ve been able to fucking think about is time, all I can think about is time. Time I have left. Time I might not get with her, with them—”

She shakes her head. “Don’t say that—”

“With you.”

Solana grows quiet. She knew something was going on with Roman, just knew it, but she could have never guessed it was this. Nor could she have anticipated how deeply it’s been bothering him. Tormenting him, it almost feels like. 

He sits back against the sofa, still not looking at her but continuing to pour out months worth of worries in a matter of minutes. “I spent years being stupid, wasting my time with women who meant nothing to me, whose names I didn’t even know half the damn time, and now that I have you, I have the kids, I have to deal with the consequences of that. The fact that I might not be able to experience so many things because I was too busy being a fucking whore....” He swallows. "I fucking hate it."

She winces at the bitterness that seeps through his deep voice. Bitterness and blame directed inward. A sort of anger that feels almost unfair. It’s all unfair, but the fact that he feels so deeply about this, feels as if he’s to blame for the timeline of their story being the way it is feels wrong to her.

Has her sympathizing for him. Such a stark contrast for everything she’s felt the past few days, longer even, but what she feels, nonetheless. There’s no thought that goes into when she moves closer to him on the sofa, what has her gently cupping his face when he finally looks at her, or has her asking with all the love, “Roman….why….why didn’t you say anything to me?”

Years. For years, they’ve been each other’s biggest support system. Biggest confidants. Safe spaces. So, to know he’s been suffering in silence with what almost sounds like some sort of midlife crisis hurts her. It hurts her a lot. She might have been (is still?) upset with him, hurt especially, but she’d never wish this kind of pain on him.

Walking around everyday wondering and worrying about mortality and time he won’t get to have with their children.

With her. 

He closes his eyes, carefully choosing his words. 

“Because, you don’t get it, Sol. you’re 10 years younger than me. That makes a difference. It makes a big difference.” He stops, opening his eyes, tone shifting into something softer than the almost edge that took over with his initial answer to her question. “You don’t…you don’t have to worry about these things like I do, and I didn’t want you to worry about it.”

“Roman….” Her voice dips, filled with all of the emotions. “All I’ve done is worry about you.”

About him. About them. His silence may have seemed like protection, but it was really just ammunition. Fuel that drove and sustained the separation between them, maintained the distance and disconnection. 

“Solana…” He trails off, and a shaky breath tumbles out of her mouth when he moves his hands to her waist, holding her. “The reason…the only reason I haven’t touched you is because I keep thinking about what if you get pregnant again? Is that just going to be another child of mine that I don't get to experience as much with because of my age?” An unexpected admission but one that answers another of her insecurities with this whole situation. She’d been so scared he hadn’t made love to her because he didn’t want to. Because his attraction to her was no longer there. 

She couldn't have been more wrong.

“Roman…” It’s a bit of a difficult task. She doesn’t want to invalidate his feelings, but she also doesn’t want him to continue to torment himself over something that he can’t control. “We can’t control time. The same way you couldn’t control when we met. But, I believe we met exactly when we were supposed. Our children have been born exactly when they were supposed to.” She does. With everything in her. “The same way I believe and know that we’re both going to see them all grow up and be happy and have families of their own someday. All the way from Lina to Aroha.” The faintest hint of a smile, the first she’s had in days, appears on her face. “Well…my money would be on Leya starting that family first, since we both know how Lina is.”

His small chuckle means a lot to her. Same with the way his grip on her waist tightens ever so slightly. “You’re not gonna miss any of it, Ro…” She lifts a hand to gently stroke his beard. “I promise….”

Because Solana cannot and will not accept a future where this all doesn't end exactly as she predicted. They will only close their eyes after seeing the family they created build and create their own future. 

“Thank you.” Comes his strained voice. She manages a small smile.  He tugs her even closer, their foreheads pressed together.

Solana’s chest is fluttering, a different, both foreign and familiar emotion simmering within, hastening to a boiling point. “Roman…”

An unspoken but known continuation of addressing her insecurities. “It’s not and never will be because I don’t want you,” he vows. I’ve always wanted you, and I always will. I only want you, Solana.”

His mouth hovers over hers, Solana moving her hands to his shoulders. “Ro…”

One locked gaze, and seconds later, his lips are on hers. It’s all feeling and sensation. No thoughts. Just feeling. She doesn’t want to think, doesn’t want to worry, doesn’t want any of the things that have been weighing her down. Weighing them both down. 

It’s not perfect. It’s not fixed. It’s not even necessarily alright, but right now, she doesn’t care about any of that. This isn’t about that. This is about connection. It’s about togetherness. It’s about being one. 

Clothes are shed and bodies repositioned, their mouths only separated in moments of necessity, desire a powerful, blinding emotion consuming both of them. 

Synchronized moans at the entrance of him inside of her, Solana’s hands clutching and clawing at his back at the familiar stretch and initial burn. She whines, legs tightening around his hips, craving him. All of him. Every single inch. His body melting and molding into hers. She can’t get close enough, feel close enough. It’s just not enough.

Tears blur her vision, a vulnerable, breathy, “I’ve missed you,” escaping her mouth. 

He looks at her, one hand cupping her face, “I know, baby.” Solana whines into his mouth, his hips pressing into hers, driving his dick deeper inside of her, feeding and correcting her every neglected need. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes shut, as he moves his full lips over her eyelids, kissing her tears away. “I’m sorry.”

Solana gasps once more, her head craned back, as he angles his hips upward, finding her spot almost instantly. Her nails dig into his back as his mouth continues to travel her face, placing the softest of kisses that accompany the dutiful thrusts, the melding of their bodies. The becoming of one.

“I’m sorry,” a prayer on his mouth that he can’t seem to cease, remittance and remittance it feels he believes there is no cutoff point for. A level of contrition that penetrates her soul. 

Solana clutches him, body to body, chest to chest. One and one. He drives into her with all the dedication and repentance coursing through his big body. And, she takes it all, every bit of it. She’s never been been able to get enough of him, of this, and after so long of going without, she just wants to be and not think.

Just wants to enjoy and savor in this moment. 

In the love. 

It’s not like most of the time when they make love. He doesn’t turn her over or initiate different positions. Doesn’t prolong it for the rest of the night. They stay like that, face to face, gazes locked almost the entire time, a level of intimacy reserved only for that of the deepest of lovers. Of two who decided long ago that there was no them without one another. A perfect union.

And, when they’re done, when both reach their shared climax, they don’t move. There’s a shift to allow Solana to lay on top of him, her ear to his chest, as he uses her blanket to partially cover them. But, outside of minimal adjustments, no movement. Just gentle caresses of Roman’s finger down the small of her back, Solana’s hands moving across Roman’s chest and abs. Light, loving touches between two lovers. 

She’s not sure how long they stay like that. Hours, most likely. Long enough for her to fall asleep and wake up to find him still stroking her back. Solana opens her eyes but doesn’t look up at him, just focuses on the faint outline of the sofa on the other side of the room. 

“What happened before I got there, Roman?”

A question entered into the silence, posed to him, an answer she both needs and doesn’t want. 

Knowing what she now knows, Solana leans more on the side of nothing horrible happening between them, but Celeste ending up in Roman’s lap is still a story that needs to be told.

Whether she wants to hear it or not. 

She feels him sigh loudly before moving into the explanation she’s been dreading since that fateful, awful day. 

“They found something when I went in for my mammogram.”

Words that play on repeat in his head. Loud. Quiet. Fast. Slow. Countless variations with a sole impact. Devastation. For a lot of reasons. For the fact that she hadn’t even told him until that point. For the fact that she’s clearly been sitting on this alone until that point. For the fact that this could mean something completely fine or completely life changing. There’s no in between. No wiggle room. 

And, he fucking hates it.

Weeks, months, he’s been so in his head, so focused on his own mortality, playing out different hypothetical outcomes. Thinking about life when it’s no longer a thing. When his is no longer a thing.

Not once did it ever cross his mind that she could be dealing or struggling with the same thing.

Roman knows he’s fucked up. He’s not stupid. He recognizes now, at least, how his refusing to open up about his fear of death, growing old, and not being able to see his children grow up and pursue whatever routes they choose in life. He realizes holding in all of this has inadvertently caused problems within his marriage. 

That him being too stubborn to be honest with Solana, instead avoiding her and distancing himself from the very person he should have been leaning on, has hurt her.

While she’s already been hurting and dealing with a terrible possibility. 

Roman leans back in his chair, focusing on nothing but that damn statement. It’s a complete 180. He couldn’t give two shits about himself at this point. All he can think about is Solana, think about how he should have pushed harder for them to actually talk last night. He understands her being upset with him, she has every right to be. He’d done this. Was 100% to blame. But, that situation is different.

This is her health.

Her life, and nothing means more to him than that.

It’s why he’s had that nagging, burdensome, weight sitting on his chest. For years, his biggest fear has been something happening to his family, to his children, to his wife. Hence why he’s always been so protective of all of them. Worked tirelessly to keep them from any and all danger.

But….this….this is a fight he doesn’t know he would even handle. Doesn’t want to think about having to handle it, because even after all these years, years of hard work in therapy, the thought of something happening to Solana still scares him shitless.

Especially something he can’t protect her from.

“Roman?” There’s a knock at the door. Celine, or whatever her name is. He still hasn’t bothered to learn it. And won’t. He doesn’t even bother to look her way, knowing she most likely has the stock report he’d asked her to get him when he came in this morning. “I have—”

“Leave it on my desk.” A simple command. Not as rude. No, Roman doesn’t really have it in him right now to be that asshole that could drive even a nun to swear. Too much on his plate.

His heart is too heavy for that. 

The faint sound of footsteps, her saying something he couldn’t give two shits about. Again, in one ear and out the other. He can’t stop thinking about Solana. About everything that’s happened the past couple months. How they’d gotten to this strange, almost foreign place.

He’s never felt so distant from her, and it’s the worst feeling in the world.

Was. Because one minute, Roman is sitting in his chair, legs spread, forearms rested on the arms of the smooth leather, gaze focused on the intricate design of the carpet in his office, and the next, a complete invasion.

Cecilia is on his lap, legs spread, the scent of her cheap ass perfume borderline nauseating. But, the feeling of nausea is minimal compared to the rage that instantly fills him, that has Roman seconds away from doing something out of character.

Because his first immediate instinct is to snap her neck. To kill her for this shit. And, that’s not like him, a sick and borderline sadistic creature when he has to be, he’s always drawn a line in the sand when it comes to women.

Even more so after being with Solana and learning/seeing the impact of her abuse and trauma. After having daughters himself. He’s never seen himself as a man capable of hurting a woman, not physically, at least.

But, this bitch is trying it.

It takes everything in him to not snap, his hands squeezing the arms of the chair so hard that his knuckles are practically white. “What the fuck are you doing?”

The bitch has the nerve to smile, to fucking smile, batting her eyelashes like it’s supposed to do something for him. “You seem….upset.” Her eyes dip to his mouth, Roman completely and utterly revolted as she licks her bottom lip. “Let me help you with that, daddy...” 

And the minute she lifts her hand, clearly aiming to touch his crotch is the second he loses all sense of self-control. 

Roman doesn’t give two shits if she hits her head and dies on the spot, using all his strength to shove her off and away from him. His face is completely distorted into the deepest scowl, and he’s burning with desire to grab his gun and just off her right then and there. 

But, something else. 

Something else captures his focus, steals the focus of both of them.

Solana.

“I wasn’t even fucking paying attention to her. I was in my fucking head, and I should have…” Roman trails off, finishing his recalling of what she now is starting to realize, eerily similar to the last time, was an honest to God misunderstanding. “I should have noticed the minute she got that close to me.”

Solana doesn’t necessarily disagree. 

“I believe you,” she whispers, feeling him look down at her. Feeling both his relief and surprise at her acknowledgement. “But…” Solana sits up, using the blanket to cover her chest as she looks down at him. “Roman, that only happened because you didn’t listen to me.”

Two truths can exist in the same universe. Roman has been dealing with a lot, which has clouded his judgment, among other things. But, that doesn’t necessarily excuse the fact that his lack of honesty with her carved out a path that led Celeste do what she did. He didn’t set that boundary soon enough, and she wasted no time in exploiting and crossing that. 

Solana can both be upset and empathize with her husband. Maybe more than she’d like to admit. 

“You’re right,” he agrees, unsurprising to her. Roman lifts his hand to cup her face, repeating for what has to be the hundredth time in the past few hours. “I’m sorry.”

She knows he is. 

But, she also knows sometimes….sometimes that’s just not enough. 

“Roman…” Solana licks her lips, that feeling of dread filling her all over again. A reluctance that has her just wanting to lay back down against him and succumb to the escape of sleep. But, that solves nothing, and they have no shortage of things that need just that—solving. “I–I think….” A deep breath. “I knew he was attracted to me.” Even in the dark of the room lit only by a small lamp on the side table near the other sofa, she can see it. See his surprise. “I think….I think I liked the attention.”

A stunning, horrible admission but her truth, nonetheless. Because if this situation has caused her to do anything, it’s reflect. Not only on what happened with Roman and Celeste. But, what happened between her and Robert. 

The brief conversations. The smiles. The compliments. The flirting. She never reciprocated, never did anything to make him think she felt the same. But, she also never did anything to shut it down, either. 

“I think, on some level, I liked….I liked how it made me feel,” she continues, hating the pitting at the bottom of her stomach. “Good. Wanted. All….all things I wasn’t feeling from you.” She swallows, shaking her head. “And, it’s not because I like him. I don’t. I don’t want him. I don’t like him. I love you.” Full, unabridged honesty. “But, the fact that it even got that far, in both of our situations, is a problem.” She gestures between them. “We have a problem.”

Because in all of the years they’ve been together, Solana has never once had that happen with another man. Never enjoyed any time of non-innocent interest from anyone not her husband, and she doesn’t want that to happen again. 

It can’t. 

“You’re right.” Solana can hear the faintest hint of anger and irritation in his voice, and instantly, she knows why. Knows that it’s directed not at herself, but the doctor she works for. Or, used to work for, because she also has no doubt in mind after he recovers from his injuries sustained in a “random mugging,” he’ll mysteriously be transferred to another hospital out of state. 

Way out of state.

“What do you want us to do?” A gentler tone, an honest inquiry. “Just tell me, and I’ll do it.” Roman sits up, moving his hand to her back, pulling her against him. “I’ll do anything to make this right.”

Desperate. He sounds desperate.

Solana thinks about it, palm resting over his chest. “I think we should go to marriage counseling.” An expected suggestion and what feels like the best move at this point. “Just…just to continue to work things out.”

Because as helpful, and maybe even healing, these conversations have been, Solana recognizes they still need more. Recognizes there’s still something within her she needs to work through. 

Forgiveness. She needs to find a way to fully forgive him, something that she’ll tackle with Gail, but also something they need to tackle together, as a couple. 

“Okay.” He agrees, rubbing small circles at the base of her back. “Let’s do it.” Truth be told, Solana didn’t have much doubt in her that he would agree to it. They’ve both done individual therapy for years now, and she knows he sees the benefit. She also knows he means it when he says he’ll do anything to make their marriage work.

She believes him.

“Solana…” A shift, a change even in his facial expression. “We need to talk about—”

And just like that, she’s shaking her head. She knows exactly what he’s about to say. “Not…not right now.”

His frown deepens. “Sweetheart—”

“I know we do, and we will.” Because avoiding things is how they got into this situation, but the fact that just the thought of talking about that right now has her chest tightening, skin warming, tells Solana that she just can’t handle it right now. “Just…not right now…please?”

His disagreement is visible, but he nods quietly, offering no protest as she goes to lay them back down, inching closer to him, holding onto him and closing her eyes. 

They still have things to work through. A lot to figure out. 

The potential C word conversation to have and handle right now, but in this moment, she doesn’t want to think about any of that. 

Right now, she just wants to enjoy her husband. 

—--------

The adjustment to being back home goes smoother than Solana anticipated. She’s not sure what exactly she was expecting, but what she received is not something she will complain about. Overt enjoyment from her children at their parents being home, the big, warm hug from her youngest who commented with the biggest smile on her face, looking at both herself and Roman. 

“You’re happy again.”

Right there, in that moment, Aroha couldn’t have been more right.

Solana can’t say that she feels all the way better in the days following their return home. She definitely feels better than she was feeling before they left. Felt even more relieved when she and Roman sat the kids down and reassured him that they were working things out and were not planning to separate or divorce.

A sense of relief that helps her as well.

It’s a strange thing, how she went from seriously contemplating asking Roman to leave the house for a while to looking up marriage counselors for them, welcoming him back in their bedroom, him sleeping next to her. Him attending the follow up testing with her.

That….that has been at the forefront of her mind. Test being done two days prior, Solana knows she’s in the window for a callback and her results to be uploaded to MyChart.

She does her best to keep herself busy, mostly with the foundation, as going back to work at the hospital feels….too soon. She just needs some time away from that. 

But, in the meantime, catching up on things around the house, handling foundation business, gradually re-entering herself back into her friend and family group have been the focus. The best things for her to focus on.

She's in the middle of gathering the laundry from her kids bedrooms, chuckling when she finds Coco lounging on the bed in Aroha’s room.

“Hey, girl,” she greets, petting the dog’s head when music fills the room. Familiar. Her ringtone.

Solana is quick to grab her phone out of her back pocket but slow when she sees the familiar number light up her screen.

The number of her doctor’s office. 

A nervous glance at Coco who remains oblivious to what this could mean. Solana’s eyes shut.

Here goes nothing.

Sitting on the edge of her baby daughter’s bed, Solana sends a quiet prayer to the man upstairs and hits the green button. 

“Hello?”

—--------

Roman was in the middle of a meeting when he noticed his phone light up. A phone that had always sat on the table, screen up, regardless of what he was doing.

It was something he’d drifted away from over the past two months due to his internal struggles but something he has no intentions on changing ever again.

But, it’s when he sees it, that the meeting comes to a premature ending. For him, at least. He leaves Dwayne and Matteo to handle the rest of it, because he has something more important to tend to.

Much more important. 

The drive from Bloodline Headquarters to the Reigns Manor feels like it takes longer than it ever has before. The driver too slow, too many cars on the road, too much interference keeping him from his destination.

From her.

The minute they pull up, Roman is out of the SUV, jogging into the house, calling her name, searching, looking for her in all of her most frequented locations. The kitchen. The laundry room. Her art room. But, where he finds her is unexpected.

Roman stands outside of Solana’s walk-in closet, paused by the sight before him. She’s sitting on the floor, surrounded by the clear containers containing years worth of family photos, many of them spread across the carpet, almost entirely obstructing a clear path for him to her.

Her, his wife, who's in the middle of it all, smiling at whatever polaroid she has in hand.

“Solana…”

She looks up, and her smile deepens just a bit, but he sees it. Sees something in her eyes. Something unsettling and boiling over. Something building by the second. 

“Do you remember this day?” She flips the photo, revealing a smiling photo of their oldest three kids when they were younger. “It was from one of their first Disney trips.” Solana chuckles, flipping it back over to continue admiring. “They were so happy…”

Though sensing something unsettling, Roman won’t invalidate her. He’s done more than enough of that to last a lifetime lately. “Lina and Tama kept wanting to talk to everyone…”

She giggles, shaking her head. “Meanwhile, Leya was too shy, which was why we kept having to initiate talking to the characters for her.”

A quick chuckle kept within. That’s one of those memories that will always stay with him. They all will. 

Solana grabs another photo. “Oh my gosh, this was the boys’ first birthday party.” Again, she shares the photo with Roman who’s managed to make his way through the sea of memories, kneeling near her. “They were so irritated with us.” She hands him the photo of Koa and Kai, sure enough, scowling while being held by their parents, surrounded by people. 

Another internal chuckle. His twin boys have always been just like him with their antisocial ways, even from a young age. 

Clearly. 

But, that’s not the focus at hand. 

Something else is.

Something that had her text him while he was at work. Three simple words.

i need you.

“Look at Aria,” Solana awes, looking at a photo of Samaria at what Roman would guess was after one of her recitals. “She was so proud of herself that night…”

Attention on the polaroid is brief, as Roman’s frown deepens, sensing the slightest shift in Solana’s voice. “Baby…what’s going—”

“Roro….” He’s cut off by Solana grabbing another photo, this time of their youngest. A glance reveals it’s from only a few months ago. Christmas morning. Her smiling bright while holding up one of her gifts, a stuffed monkey dressed in a pink tutu. “She’s five…”

Roman looks back at his wife, seeing her smile gradually dimming with each stroke of her finger across Aroha’s face. “She’s…she’s only five.”

He swallows. “Solana—”

“You know I….I spent so many years not wanting to be alive.” Such a dark, sudden switch that has Roman taken back. Something that doesn’t happen often. If ever. “Tried to kill myself, even. Twice.” A bitter, humorless laugh, as she sniffles. “And then, it all changed.” She lifts her eyes to him. “I met you, and everything changed.” Emotion builds, her bottom lip trembling, the stammering returning. “We—we built this life together. This—this family. Our—our kids. My—my babies. Aroha is only—she’s only five, Roman.”

He sees it, sees the way her breathing is shifting, infrequent, difficult. A panic attack. She’s about to have a panic attack. “Baby, look at me. I need you to breathe,” he guides, placing his hands on her face, forcing her to look at him. “Breathe for me.” 

The distant sound of the washing machine going off somehow snags her attention, Solana’s eyes widening, her mouth trembling. “That’s—that’s the laundry. I have—I have—to get it done.”

A gentle reassurance. “Don’t worry about that right now, baby.” 

“No,” she objects, shaking her head, breaking away from him. “I have—I have to do it.”

He stands with her, blocking her, recognizing what’s happening and knowing the last thing she needs right now is to be concerned with that. “Sol, that’s—”

“I have to!” She shouts, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I have to get the laundry done before the kids get home from school, because I have to help Tama with his English homework, and—and Lina likes to recap her day with me.”

His chest tightens. “Sol—”

“And, and I like to ask Leya how her day was and make sure she’s not struggling with her OCD—”

“And, Koa and Kai love when I bake cookies when they get home. And, Roro—” Her voice cracks, the facade crumbling. “She loves to hug me and tell me she missed me as soon as she gets in the door.”

“Solana…”

“I—I have things to do, Roman. I have—I have so many things to still do. I don’t—” A crushing realization, cumbersome and devastating, overpowering whatever hold she had on her emotions. “I’m not ready to go yet.” 

Words he’d never thought or wanted to hear from her. Not…not in this context. Never in this context.

A sound. A broken gasp. A strangled cry. Roman catches her the minute he sees her body about to collapse to the floor, is down on his knees, holding her as she wails into his chest. 

“I don’t want to die.” A repeated plea for mercy and strength as her fingers grasp his shirt, her face buried into his chest, body almost trembling from the strength of her sobs. “I don’t want to die.”

Roman says nothing, just continues to hold and comfort her, wanting more than anything to have the right words to make her feel better, to take away her pain, but nonverbal comfort is the only thing he has to offer her in this moment. It’s the only thing he has to offer, because he finds himself also struggling. Struggling to keep his own composure, a necessity given how she’s breaking down before him.

Struggling to grasp what’s happened, because despite her not saying it, he knows exactly what’s happened. 

There’s only one thing that could evoke this type of visceral, emotional response from his wife.

Her test results came back positive.

Solana has cancer. 

[butterflyscribbles]

Freenoodle Headcanons (Part 1) - bc there’s no way I’ll have time to draw them all out fast enough and I need to get them out of my brain:

Hidden underneath bc it’s loooong…

- Tang and Pigsy met in a college-level business class. Pigsy was going for a general business major with a minor in culinary arts. Tang was pursuing Chinese Literature and Lingustics in order to eventually be a librarian or museum archivist as well as an author on the side. They started interacting more bc Tang threatened to call Pigsy out for cheating on an exam and Pigsy “bought” his silence with a bowl of homemade noodles.

- It started with “blackmail” that Tang was gonna tell if Pigsy ever stopped making food for him but gradually they just started hanging out. Pigsy began to realize that if it weren’t for him, Tang would have most likely wasted away considering he was not only a picky eater but would also completely forget meals while being so focused on his studies. Tang in return started helping Pigsy with study before big exams as well. It became routine until they both finished the class. That was one of the only classes they had together being on pretty separate tracks but by then they were close enough friends to continue hanging out semester after semester.

- Tang’s family was not too fond of him hanging out with Pigsy and eventually Sandy who had a bit of a rebellious (and somewhat criminal) hot streak. Lots of being kicked out of bars for fighting, loud music and band parties that somehow would force them to migrate into Tang’s apartment after they trashed their own.

- Tang used to have pierced ears that were Pigsy’s own handiwork but his mom made him take them out the minute he visited home. He wants to get them pierced again even now because he loved how it looked but is lowkey too chicken to act on it bc ouchieeee needles it was hard enough the first time

- They never really defined themselves as dating out loud in college but they were definitely “more than friends” after a while. Pigsy crushed on him first but Tang fell harder once he finally caught on that Pigsy liked him. They were both too emotionally constipated scared to slap an official label on it though.

- Tang is almost always freezing and wrapped up in sweaters, scarves and mittens. Pigsy is always hot. Equilibrium achieved.

- Speaking of scarves, Tang’s trademark red scarf and most precious comfort item he owns, was a gift from Pigsy’s mother when Pigsy introduced him to his parents. He is almost never without it and takes very good care of it because it is hand-made and one of a kind.

- Tang was NOT a fan of the Pigsy mustache era™️ but that did not stop the pig man from burrowing his face onto him and teasing him near to death with prickly kisses

- Pigsy’s affectionate nickname for Tang became “truffles” for a hot second after this^^ Tang secretly and begrudgingly loved it. The nickname is still stashed away for special occasions and ONLY when its the two of them.

- The mirror to that is Tang found out Pigsy’s weak spots were his ears and under his chin. Loves scritches and sometimes Tang would just reach out and idly play with his ears if they were within reach. That’s also something that occurs in present time.

- On rare occasions, Tang would convince Pigsy to sing for him and most of those moments ended in tears both of sadness or laughter on both ends. Mostly because Pigsy would either sing songs his mom taught him or ones he could only half remember the lyrics to.

- They stayed in contact for a while even after Pigsy graduated (Tang was pursuing a PHD so he stayed in school longer). Tang and Sandy were both there when the restaraunt was passed down to Pigsy and they were the first customers at Pigsy’s Noodles.

Things got a bit more complicated after that…

- For about 5 months before MK came into their lives, Tang and Pigsy were actually having a huge fight and were not on speaking terms. Sandy’s anger and violence issues were at an all time high and he dropped out of college just before graduating, Pigsy and Tang struggled to define their relationship after they Tang’s family was insistent he finally cut them out of his life and it lead to a big fight where Sandy ended up leaving the trio and there was a huge and bitter rift between the three of them.

- Three weeks after Pigsy’s mom passed, little MK showed up on his doorstep. He was already running the shop alone for the first time and now he suddenly had a child who desperately needed him. While MK brought some much needed light back into his life, he struggled to properly care for the little ball of energy and still make end’s meet. His quick temper and the passing of his mom had seriously impacted business and chased off a lot of regulars as it was. So, he called the only person he trusted to help. The minute Pigsy explained his situation…Tang didn’t hesitate to come back, even as he continued classes. Things were awkward and messy for sure and there was a lot of baggage to sort through…but they made it work for their little monkey kid.

Okay that’s it ta ta for now part two is going to be Freenoodle Family focused I wanted this one to be more on the early days before MK to set it all up.

[stagtorccio]

I'm thinking about being Natalie's mother:))

Imagine already being in a relationship with Natalie for a long time, you never really got married but you live together and that's enough<3 maybe after a lot of talking you decide to go for insemination and it works out, so now you're going to be mothers♡

I just thought it would be cute and thought of it with Sophie Thatcher's Natalie

She would be so sweet and understanding, but also so clumsy and protective like a puppy.

(gonna do a headcanon post for this one instead of a bot.. but still might make a bot too)

nat w/fem!pregnant!reader

💾 — ⁺ 　 . ✦

anon you're so right about the last part... in the beginning nat's downright terrified just at the idea of having a kid. she's scared of becoming like her mom (or god forbid her dad) and fucking up with her kid the way her parents fucked up with her.

over time she warms up to the idea, so then you talk about the IUI process. nat's never been one to have a medical phobia but you have to talk a LOT about it because she's freaked out by the thought of something going wrong.

jump-cut to the eventual agreement, and then your IUI is a few days away. nat insists on being there with you, calling out from work weeks in advance, encouraging you with little 'you've got this baby's and 'everything's gonna be fine's before the doctor gets in the room even though she's probably more nervous than you are. she's halfway soothing herself, too.

she doesn't really have her first real breakdown over it until you take the pregnancy test two weeks later and it reads positive. because oh my god, you're having a fucking baby. her girl's pregnant, she's going to be a mom. once again, she cries way more than you do.

💾 — ⁺ 　 . ✦

pregnancy is rough— especially with nat at your heels like an adoring puppy the entire time. you can't be mad at her, though— not when she's constantly doting on you, bringing you a heating pad and something warm to drink when you feel sick, holding your hair back while you throw up in the mornings, going out at ungodly hours to get whatever weird shit you're craving from the 7/11 down the street. she's utterly whipped.

and when you first start showing in the second trimester? she goes nuts. hanging off of you constantly, arms wrapped around your waist, hands under your shirt with her palms against your stomach so she can feel the bump. your baby, her baby. she's still not over it.

one night, she holds up her walkman and those little orange headphones with a sheepish smile, explaining that misty told her that babies can hear music in the womb. you listen to mazzy star with the headphones fit over your stomach and nat actually yells out loud when the baby kicks. fucking quigley was right about something for once.

after that, she plays all of her favorite songs for hours, going through a whole case of cassettes with her head on your shoulder and a hand lovingly on your baby bump, grinning a little wider every time she feels a kick.

💾 — ⁺ 　 . ✦

the real scare comes when your water breaks suddenly while you're in the kitchen.

one second she's making fun of you for your questionable meal choice of pickles with ketchup and frosted flakes, the next second there's a puddle on the floor and you're bent over the table. she panics— drops her cigarette in the sink, knocks over two fucking chairs, runs around like a fucking idiot— that kind of panic.

within 5 minutes, you're in the car and she's driving like bo duke. you actually have to grab her arm and get her to slow down so you don't both die in a car crash before you even give birth.

during labor, nat's fucking terrified, not leaving your side for a second. not to eat, piss, or anything, just watching you with clenched fists. Her hands shake when she holds yours at first, but the second she sees you in pain, she gets her shit together real fast. "hey, hey, babe— just breathe, okay? you got this. you’re a badass."

she takes it in stride when you yell at her mid-contraction, because she's not a fucking idiot. "nat, shut the fuck up!" "yep. sorry. my bad."

💾 — ⁺ 　 . ✦

the second she hears that first cry, her whole body just sags in relief. she's teary as fuck and not even trying to hide it. wiping her eyes like crazy. "holy shit, you fucking did it."

when she sees you hold the baby for the first time, she just stares at you like she's not entirely convinced this is fucking real. but when she gets the baby? oh, she breaks. teary smile, laughing and sobbing at the same time, the whole works. she's careful as hell, tracing one finger over a tiny fist.

when she thinks you're asleep, she starts talking. and she just cannot shut the fuck up, whispering to the baby for hours.

"guess you're stuck with me, huh, kid?" she says. "you got real lucky with your mom. she’s— you have no fucking idea how amazing she is yet. but you’ll get to see it."

even quieter, teary and sniffling, you hear her say: "i love you. i'm gonna try. i swear to god i am."

you know she's terrified of being a bad mom, but right now? you're not worried about a goddamn thing. she's gonna be just fine.

[cxffecoupx]

soonyoung as a girl dad

girl dad! soonyoung fluff, smut (just a lil), requested warnings: reader has a womb, soonyoung absolutely whipped for his baby girl, mentions of him wanting a lot of kids, sex (again, i tried) wc: 925 author's notes: thank you, anon, for requesting this, because i loved it way too much. i got carried away a lil heh, but i hope you enjoy this. (and i might do a boy dad! soonyoung too, maybe)

girl dad! soonyoung who starts jumping up and down in excitement when he sees his little baby girl. he is emotional of course, but his happiness somehow overpowers with the way he keeps smiling giddily and kisses the little baby in his arms. runs over to you to tell you how adorable she looks with his eyes and your smile, but he talks so fast that you cant really keep up with him, but just keep smiling because his happiness is so damn contagious.

girl dad! soonyoung who is always so ready to shopping for baby items. he was so so excited to buy a little rocking cot for the baby before the delivery. now he buys a ton lot of plushies and toys, and you only notice at the checkout that most of them are tiger shaped ones.

girl dad! soonyoung who disappears almost immediately when you enter the clothes shop, only to return 10 minutes later with not one, not two, but three matching tiger onesies, complete with hood and all. you dont even argue with him because you know he's been waiting for this. hell, he'd been planning this ever since he's fucked a baby into you. buys a LOT of more matching clothes, but he's always eyeing the onesies with the brightest of smiles.

girl dad! soonyoung who is always around you and the baby, cooing and giggling at her while telling you jokes. he has his hands interlinked with you whenever you're together, and you know he'll he around to offer you as much help and support you need during this difficult time.

girl dad! soonyoung who learns from his mom, how to take care of your baby. learns about how to feed her, when to feed her, how to burp her, how to change her diapers, how to know why she's crying. he rushes over whenever she starts crying at night, but not before telling you to go back to sleep and that he'll handle it.

girl dad! soonyoung who dresses her up in her tiger onesie when his friends and family come over to meet her. when they arrive, they find the door open and the first thing they see when they enter is two and a half tiger looking people. jihoon asks you to blink twice if you need help, and you cant help but shake your head and sigh watching soonyoung keep up his tiger persona.

girl dad! soonyoung who feels like she grew up within the blink of an eye, and starts missing her baby days when she becomes one year old. but at the same time, he starts to learn how to tie and braid her hair, starts to buy more fashionable clothes for her because to him, "she's either going big or going home". his words, not yours.

girl dad! soonyoung who starts trying for his next baby right after his first child hits one year. he had already told you how he wanted to have a football team of children with you, and although you scoffed at him then, you did discuss to have at least 3 children. "the rest", he said, "we can decide later".

soonyoung who, although swears he loves his baby girl, is absolutely ecstatic when he learns that his mother has volunteered to babysit her for one night. and he promises to take full advantage of it. he pushes your face down into the mattress the second you agree to have more kids and thrusts in deep to make sure that you're pregnant by the next day. his low groans elicit louder moans from you, and he's never been more thankful for his mother, he thinks later.

girl dad! soonyoung who dances with his daughter every single day. it started very unexpectedly though. you were all in the living room and watching music videos until a song came up and your daughter started throwing random moves outta nowhere. this was enough for soonyoung though, to jump up from the couch and hold your baby's hands and dance with her. it didnt take long before they pulled you in too, just three people goofing around in their living room.

girl dad! soonyoung who, even though has a passion for dancing, never forced your daughter towards it. agreed, that seeing his daughter dance to songs makes him feel very proud. and although he'd love to see his daughter has a dancer like he is, he never ever wants to push her to something she doesnt like. which is exactly why he's over the moon when she asks him to take her to his dance studio or practice rooms.

girl dad! soonyoung who is always at the front row seats whenever your child's school has any programs. he's always the first to jump from his seat and give a standing ovation for anything your daughter does on stage, whether it be a dance performance or a speech or singing. he's just very very proud of his baby girl, forever.

girl dad! soonyoung who had a lot planned for his family before his marriage. and even though it doesnt always happen according to them, he's happy for the most adorable daughter who unmistakably takes after him (except for his obsession with tigers tho, which makes him pout), and for the most beautiful wife who he continues to love every single day. he's happy for this small family that he has now, but he's even happier looking forward to expanding it and maybe even have a football team of children. whatever you're up for.

[loveinhawkins]

goes without saying

ao3 Written for @steddie-week Day 1 prompt, “secret relationship.”

Dustin’s been trying to communicate with his eyes alone that Eddie is under no obligation to sit through his mom going on and on about whatever trouble Uncle Frank’s gotten himself into now. For one, Dustin loves his mom, but the story got old, like, within the first five minutes of her telling it, and two, she’s mostly just telling him anyway, while handing over grocery bags; Eddie’s only trapped in the general vicinity of the conversation which he could easily leave at any point, but he’s apparently got this fear of being rude that he’s never actually admitted to, but Dustin can read it pretty confidently.

Like now, Eddie’s sat on the front step, and one finger is tap-tap-tapping on his knee—it’s not quite the same as when he’s got a song stuck in his head, an anxious edge to it that Dustin can discern but not really explain; you just have to know how to look.

He abandons the silent communication as a lost cause—seriously, Eddie needs to get with the program and dramatically improve his telepathy skills—and heads inside, bags in tow.

Steve’s in the kitchen; he’d brought the first of the bags in. Thankfully he’s more than competent in telepathy, because Dustin just needs to raise one eyebrow slightly, hey, dumbass, he needs you, and he’s already nodding.

He’s stopped on his way out by a petulant miaow: Tews in the doorway.

“Sorry, dude, I don’t know which bag your food’s in,” Steve tells him earnestly.

Dustin rolls his eyes. And maybe it’s because he’s distracted by the groceries, or it’s just the fact that him and Steve are alone—either way, he’s not really thinking when he says it.

“Stop bothering my cat and go and bother your boyfriend.”

He doesn’t even notice what he’s said until he sees Steve’s eyes go wide and—

“Shit,” Dustin says, because this wasn’t the plan, not even remotely. His suspicions were confirmed over a month ago, the tail end of a phone call he hadn’t even meant to overhear, Steve murmuring, “Love you, too. Try and get some sleep, okay?”

Dustin had kept the conclusion strictly to himself—he was going to actually approach it sensitively, damn it.

But now there’s a flicker of trepidation in Steve’s eyes, and he can’t let it stand.

“I didn’t say anything,” Dustin insists. He waves his hands for emphasis, desperately hopes it’s enough to get everything across. It’s okay, you’re okay, we’re okay. “I’m a goddamn ignoramus and I know nothing.”

There’s a long pause.

Then Steve starts to smile.

“You’re a goddamn ignoramus and you know nothing.”

Dustin only has to look at the way Steve’s eyes are shining to know that’s not what he’s saying at all.

[overwhelmed-alien]

ER Nurse/Firefighter Hangster 🧑🏻‍🚒❤️🧑🏼‍⚕️

Inspired by an episode of “The Pitt”. You’ll know which one.

The hydraulic doors opened with a whoosh of air and immediately the din of the waiting room assaulted his senses. Bradley Bradshaw sighed as he pocketed his keys in his hoodie. No matter what day - no matter what time of day - he visited his husband in the emergency room, the waiting area was packed to capacity. Over-capacity most times. Babies screaming, children crying, adults griping and complaining about the extended wait times. Coughing and hacking and moaning and yelling into phones. He didn’t know how the ER staff did it day in and day out without going crazy.

He stood behind a frantic mom bouncing a feverish toddler and waited his turn at reception. This was Jake’s third double this week. All hospitals in the area were severely understaffed, but two maternity leaves in day shift threw this one into an upheaval trying to keep up.

Bradley hadn’t seen Jake much lately; he’d come in shuffling like a zombie with just enough energy to shower and eat a little of the dinner Bradley had put away for him - more than likely his first meal in twelve hours - and then stretch out on top of Bradley on the couch to watch a movie. He’d usually be fast asleep within the first ten minutes. But Bradley didn’t care. Not about the drool on his chest, or the damp hair tickling his chin, not the quiet snoring or being pinned bodily to the couch by dead weight. He loved quiet nights cuddling in their pajamas, getting to hold that precious being in his arms, close to his heart, exactly where he belonged. He knew they were each other’s safe place. He knew that because Jake always held him after particularly difficult shifts, as well. Would make him his mom’s banana nut bread and thread his fingers through Bradley’s curls. Jake was everything to him. His safety, his sanity. Bradley knew Jake felt the same about him because he’d said so in his vows.

“Are you gonna just stand there looking dopey, Fireman, or do you got somethin’ to say?”

Mary the receptionist was Brooklyn to her bones. She’d worked at this San Diego hospital longer than Bradley had been alive and hadn’t lost a bit of her accent. He was pretty sure after these three years of him being a regular (both visitor and patient) that she knew his name, but she still referred to him simply as Fireman. Her Coke bottle glasses emphasized the blue eye shadow as she raked her gaze down his body appreciatively. He suppressed a shudder.

“Mary, sweetheart!” He smiled at her. He knew this song and dance by heart. “How are you, beautiful?”

“I’m almost as full’a shit as you are, bub. This is my third break.” She gestured to the Check-In window to emphasize she was, in fact, still working. “What brings you to my humble domain? Don’t tell me, don’t tell me. Ya wanna scoot back here “real quick” to definitely not defile the storage closet with the life size Ken doll again, huh?”

“That was one time, and there was no defiling. I told you, he was looking for gauze and tripped-“

“-face-first into your crotch, yeah yeah. What do I know about gravity, right, I’m not Isaac Neutron or whatever. Meanwhile, he probably needs some stress relief after the incident earlier.”

Bradley frowned. “Incident?”

“Oh yeah, some asshole built like an Oakland linebacker came in a few hours ago screaming about having to wait so long, and your boy toy flew out here like an avenging angel and chewed his ass out in front of everyone. It was like David and Goliath all over again. Your boy can string some inspiring words together when he wants to. Gigantor turned tail and walked out, quiet as a rat. People, am I right?”

He nodded, brows still furrowed. That did sound like Jake. As sweet as he usually was, he had no tolerance for rudeness, and held no qualms about confrontation. “Yeah. People.”

“Go on, get outta here, Fireman. Anyone asks, I didn’t see you.”

The door to the right unlocked with an audible click. He beamed and gestured a quick but genuine “thank you” before heading through the door to the emergency floor.

He’d just gotten off his shift and had swung by the Hibachi place Jake loved for a couple takeout plates. If Jake wasn’t busy they could eat together in the break room, if he was, he’d stick the box in the communal fridge for later and head home. Mostly he just wanted to lay eyes on his husband and make sure he was taking care of himself. When Jake got busy he always forgot to eat. Forgot to stop and rest. Bradley took his job to remind him very seriously.

Almost immediately, Bradley clocked something was off on the floor. There was always an air of frantic anxiousness back here in the ED, but it felt different tonight. The hairs on his neck bristled. He disregarded the patients and locked onto the different faces of the personnel, their body language as they hovered over screens and flitting around the stations.

They were angry. A cold, quiet, seething anger, kept at bay by professionalism, but it was there, and it was obvious.

He didn’t see Jake.

He did see Beau. It was hard to miss Dr. Simpson, he was a big man, a Navy man as well, one of his godfather’s good friends. Well, Ice’s good friend, he tolerated Mav. His handsome face was pinched tight as he rushed out of the corner unit in the back and wheeled around the main nurses station in the middle of the floor. He’d just picked up the phone when he met Bradley’s eyes. He put the phone down.

“Rooster.” Beau looked grim. There was blood staining his scrubs. “Who called you?”

Bradley’s heart sank into his stomach. “Wha-…nobody called me.” He shook the bag in his hand. “I - I brought Jake food.” He looked around again for a familiar blond head. “Beau, where is he.”

Beau could read him as well as Bradley could read everyone else. He probably sensed the impending meltdown because he was in front of Bradley in two long strides, strong hands gripping his shoulders. “He’s okay. He’s gonna be fine, son.”

The bag of hibachi dropped to the floor. “‘Okay’ and ‘gonna be fine’ are two different things, which is it.” He could see the pulsing of his heartbeat in his vision. Nurses were avoiding his gaze. “Where is my husband, I’m not asking again.”

Beau sighed, rubbed his hands down his face. He looked exhausted. “Dr. Benjamin is checking him out now-“

“-Why is Penny-“

“-Because she’s a neurologist,” Beau cut him off. Bradley fell silent and let the older man guide him through the nurses station toward the corner unit. “There was an…altercation…in the waiting room earlier. Jake confronted an erratic man causing a scene. You know how mouthy he can get. The man left, we thought nothing else of it. Jake…he went outside for a break a few minutes ago, the guy snuck up behind him and sucker punched him in the face like a fucking coward.”

He drew the curtain back and Bradley felt his knees give out. He caught himself on the foot rail of the gurney in front of him.

There was so much blood.

It covered much of his husband’s beautiful face, wrapped grotesque tendrils around his slim neck. The scrubs he wore were soaked. In Jake’s blood.

Bradley saw red.

“Hey baby.”

Jake’s tired, slightly slurred voice cut through the wrath-fueled haze in Bradley’s mind. He hadn’t even noticed the pretty green eyes - swollen and blood-red and wrapped in bruises already turning shades of blue and purple - staring up at him. Awake and alert. He was awake. Bradley shook out of Dr. Simpson’s hold and frantically reached for his husband, knocking the empty chair out of the way in his rush. He stopped short, not knowing where to put his hands that wouldn’t cause any more pain or damage, but needing to touch him more than he needed oxygen.

Jake must have sensed his desperation. He reached out with both arms and pulled Bradley in by his hoodie, forcing him to sit beside him on the gurney. He was sitting upright, not lying down, and he squirmed until Bradley’s arm was wrapped around his shoulders. He leaned into his husband and breathed a deep sigh, the tension melting out of him.

“Would you please be still,” Dr. Penny Benjamin was as beautiful as ever, even with the tight jaw and furrowed brow. Bradley hadn’t even noticed her sitting in a rolling stool beside the gurney. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and winked at Bradley. “Hey, Roo. Think he’s trying to absorb you through osmosis.”

“I’m fine with that.” Bradley croaked, his voice cracking, and squeezed a little tighter. He looked down at the love of his life. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t wrap his head around all the blood. Jake wasn’t supposed to be hurt. He had the dangerous job, not Jake. Never Jake. Jake was supposed to always be safe. He could be tired or angry or upset, but never hurt. “…Honey?” He didn’t even know how to speak to him in this state.

Jake held no such reservations. “I’m fine, B. Fucker blind-sided me like a pussy. Sorry, Penny.”

Penny huffed, but she was smiling. Bradley understood why Mav walked nose-first into a door when Penny smiled at him that time. “He’ll be okay. Took a hard fall, and head wounds tend to bleed a lot, but he doesn’t need stitches, just glue. His nose took the brunt of it, but thankfully it’s not broken. His stunning good looks will be intact once the swelling goes down, everyone will be happy to know.”

Beau let out a breath like he’d been holding it. “We’ll get him cleaned up and you can take him home.”

“Bullshit, I’m staying. I’ve got four hours left in my shift.” Jake sat up straighter and glared at Beau through his bruises. He looked exhausted and miserable. Bradley drew him in closer.

“You most certainly are not-“

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been punched in the face, Cy.”

“While that doesn’t surprise me at all, we’re still going to follow concussion protocol-“

“I’m a fucking combat medic, not a fucking candy striper, I’m fine.”

“What’s a candy striper?” A young med student walking by whispered to another, who shrugged. Beau shooed them away and pulled the curtain closed.

“Jacob,” Penny gently grasped his chin and shined a light in his eyes, gauging pupil responses again. “Straighten up or I’m taking you down to imaging and stuffing you into a CT scan.”

“But I can-“

“Bradshaw!” Both Jake and Bradley visibly flinched. Penny Benjamin was scarier than any drill sergeant. She pocketed her penlight and stood up to lean over him. “Sensitivity to light and sound. Anxiety and mood swings. You’re a little uncoordinated, a little slurry, and I bet you have one hell of a headache. I love you kid, and nobody is denying that you’re tough as nails, but you have a concussion, and you need to rest.” She reached over to pull Bradley in by the scruff of his neck. “Let your adorable puppy of a husband take you home and fuss over you for a change.”

“Go home, son.” Beau added. “I don’t want to see you in here for three days unless you’re getting checked out.”

Jake shook his head, drew in a sharp breath. Bradley could see the tears in his eyes, hear them in his voice. “We’re so short-staffed already.”

“We’ll survive three days without the mighty Jake Seresin Bradshaw, I promise.”

Bradley was elbowed in the gut as Jake flailed to stand up and prove his capabilities. He stood up, too, and caught Jake by the waist when he wobbled precariously. Blond hair tickled his face as Jake leaned his forehead into Bradley’s neck seeking comfort. A single, strangled sob escaped his throat before he tamped it back down. Bradley knew. These tears weren’t from pain, or even anger. They came from a place of helplessness and frustration and exhaustion. He’d had this conversation with Jake before.

It never ends. He was there to help, spent his time trying to make people feel better, live a little longer, and all he got in return was sucker punched. Spit on. Yelled at. Cursed at. Day in and day out. He saw the absolute worst in people, and fought like hell for them anyway. They all did. Every doctor and nurse and receptionist and janitor in this understaffed emergency department had a desperate need to save people, and it was taking its toll, some days more than others.

“I’m taking you home, sweetheart.” Bradley’s tone left no room for discussion. Jake just nodded against his neck, his exhaustion suddenly palpable. He sat the blond back down on the padding and dropped a lingering kiss to his forehead, making sure his mustache tickled Jake’s skin. “Let Penny clean you up a bit, okay, hon? I’m gonna step outside and talk to Beau a minute. Be right back.”

He gripped Dr. Simpson’s bicep and pulled him away from the cubicle. “I need a name, and I need it fucking now.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Beau don’t fuck with me, I’m gonna find out anyway, you may as well save me a few minutes of interrogation.”

“We’ve already got the police involved, let them handle it.”

“What, for him to get a slap on the wrist? Fuck no-“

“Need I remind you that the last time Jake got hurt here and you went all “Navy SEAL” on everybody, Ice had to get the fucking governor of California involved to keep your ass out of jail? Hmm? You think that’s gonna happen twice? Who’s gonna look after Jake if you’re in prison for attempted murder?” He stopped before he was actively shouting and took a deep breath. “You are one of the most intelligent people I know, but when it comes to that boy in there you turn into a knuckle-dragging dumbass.”

Bradley opened his mouth to defend himself but Beau cut him off. “This isn’t the first time one of my staff has been assaulted, and it won’t be the last. Understand that. It comes with the territory. We’ve all been hit and kicked and pissed and spit on. Every one of us. Jake doesn’t need a knight in shining armor to fight for him. He’s a tough kid, respect his capabilities. Right now the only thing he needs is a caring and attentive husband. Be that for him, Bradshaw.”

Simpson was right. Of course he was. Bradley knew he was a hothead when it came to Jake and his safety. He’d wanted to protect Jake Seresin the first time he’d ever laid eyes on him, even though it was, in fact, Jake protecting a wounded Bradley at the time. Every cell in his body vibrated with a primal need to protect that man, the love of his life and every life beyond.

The curtain pulled back and Jake was there, a little unsteady, Penny guiding him. Most of the blood on his face and neck had been wiped away; his scrub top was missing, the white undershirt a little less gruesome. Bradley met Beau’s eyes and nodded, reached out to shake the man’s hand briefly before hurrying over to Jake’s side where he belonged. He unzipped his Station 86 hoodie and wrapped it around Jake’s shoulders before zipping it up to hide the bloodstains on his collar. Jake looked up at him and smiled. “I would’ve stolen it anyway.” The Texas twang heavy on his lips. God, he looked so tired. On a soul-deep level.

“I know, angel. You wear it more than I do, anyway, guess I stole it from you. Just giving it back.”

“You know concussion protocol, I’m assuming,” Penny handed him a packet of papers with a knowing smirk.

“All too well, ma’am.”

“He’ll sit here and you can go get your car and pull it around to the ambulance bay. We’ll meet you outside.” Beau pushed a wheelchair behind Jake, who balked for a second before admitting defeat and flopping down into it.

“Yes, sir.”

“And then you’re going to take him home and put him to bed, and I don’t want to see him for three days. At least.”

Jake whined petulantly. Bradley bent down and dropped a peck to his hair, smiling into it. “Three days of couch cuddles. I’m totally down for that.”

Jake perked up significantly at that. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

Beau nodded sagely. “As long as you keep the supply closet shenanigans to a minimum.”

“Oh shit-“

The End

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

“I'm Just going to ask it send me request to write blurbs”

Can you do a cookout blurb with Jude? With y/n? And have y/n mom teach him the electric slide dance with the rest of her family? lol it’s giving “ the best man and welcome home Roscoe Jenkins”

DANCE • JUDE BELLINGHAM

💌 I'm going to imagine he's dancing to the cupid shuffle. That seems like it's more complicated for him.

🏷️ warnings: no warnings

🏷️ author note: look at me! I finally wrote

It was summer break so you know what that meant, Jude and I were spending an evening of vacation at my parents house. Very rarely did we both get to see them. I worked hard on getting my degree and well Jude.. he was a professional footballer. Our careers clouded most of our time and we barely got much to travel and see both of our family until now.

Jude sat in the passenger seat as I drove down the road. He would be driving but he refuse to get his license.

“I'm really excited to see your mom.” He said from the passenger seat. I took my eyes off the road for a second, sneaking a glance at him before turning back to the road.

Jude loved my mother like she was a second mom to him and he was her son. They may have only known each other for 3 years but it seemed like they known each other forever.

When we arrived at my parents house. I parked the car where everyone else's was and got out with Jude. We both walked up to the front door where I knocked. After waiting for less than a minute the door swung open revealing my mom. Within seconds I was in her arms, haven't seen her in so long it was nice to finally get the hug I've been waiting for.

When I pulled back Jude was quick to take my place and my mother's arms. My mom laughed as she hugged the 6 foot man tightly.

When he finally pulled away she spoke.

Come in. Your father is busy on th grill try to cook us a meal. Also your cousins are here.”

me and Jude walked in and greeted everyone as we passed by. A few of my nieces and nephews made the trip to the backyards longer as they tried to talk to Jude but eventually we made it outside.

Outside the atmosphere was pumping. Music played loudly over the back yard, people everywhere and the fumes of delicious food being made clouded the area. I gave jude a kiss on the cheek before splitting with him to greet more of my family.

twenty minutes went by before I was finished talking. I found Jude sitting on a lawn chair a beer nestled in his hand as he talked to my mom who was sitting beside him. I plopped down on the other side and stayed quiet. Jude knew I was there seeing how his hands rested on my thigh a few seconds as I got comfortable.

A few more minutes went by, my mom and Jude talking about football. That was before the music changed. Good lord it was my mom's favorite song.

I groaned knowing what was coming next.

My mom popped right up happy as can be. Her first target was me of course. I instantly hesitated, I was in no shape or form interested in dancing today.

“Come on y/n, you know you want to.”

I shook my head staying glued to my seat. She wasn't going to stop which means I have to get out of this some way some how so I used my closest target. Jude!

“Why don't Jude dance with you?”

Jude's eyes grew wide as soon as I said that. He looked betrayed and I couldn't blame him. I smiled at him shyly hoping he'll do it and take me out of my misery.

Luckily for me he did.

“Sure.” He stood up. I sighed in relief.

“but I'm not good at dancing. I'm kind of white.” he joked.

My mom laughed ignoring his comments, dragging him into an open space where she can teach him correctly.

I was attentive as I watched them. Every now and then I would giggle to Jude messing up the easiest move humanly possible.

My mom stayed patient as she taught him and eventually… one hour later he finally got the dance correctly.

“Did you see all that?” He asked me as he walked back over to me.

I smiled as I nodded. “Yeah and I kinda filmed it so expect it to be on the internet tomorrow.”

Jude rolled his eyes and sat back down beside me.

“You know you're going to have to repay me right?”

I nod once again. Leaning closer to him I whispered in his ear. “I know and when we leave here later I plan to give you what you want.”

[withlovewriting]

All I Ever Knew, Only You 21: Super Secret Spy Shit

Chapter Twenty-one.

We say we're friends, But I'm catching you across the room, It makes no sense, 'Cause we're fighting over what we do, And there's no way that I'll end up being with you, But friends don't look at friends that way, Friends don't look at friends that way

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 6,875

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of inappropriate relations (here's looking at you, Mrs Wheeler), a lil bit of flirting (we are so close I'm so sorry), mentions of guns/weapons, you're also a lil mean in this chapter... You should work on that ;)

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter: COMING SOON

Taglist: @kezibear @newyorkangelbaby

Chapter Twenty-one: Super Secret Spy Shit

By the grace of God, your mother was passed out, drooling face down on the couch by the time you returned home, and when you left that morning, she was in the same position, snoring louder than the birds that chirped their morning song.

You were grateful for a day off; the long summer days were still too hot in the crammed, smelly arcade, and it seemed they were only getting warmer. Today, however, you were out of plans.

Nancy and Jonathan were interning at The Hawkins Post all summer and, therefore, annoyingly busy, and you flat out refused to spend your entire summer break hanging out with a bunch of 14-year-olds.

And Steve… Well, Steve was currently working a long shift at the mall. The mall that had air conditioning that actually worked. And — with Robin’s back turned — free ice cream. So, unfortunately for him, Steve was your only option.

You did have one stop, however, before you cycled to Starcourt.

You’d biked all the way to Cherry Lane, but there was no Camaro parked outside, and Max — who at first was absolutely furious that you were there to see her step-brother of all people — told you that he had a shift at the pool.

“Neil is going to flip when he finds out what he did to his car.” Max’s voice was laced with a tinge of concern, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you were in the same boat as Billy once your mother awoke.

The community pool was already busy by the time you arrived; moms were lazing around the pool as kids continuously broke the 'no running' rule. And the 'no dunking' rule. And the 'no diving' rule.

God, you could only be grateful that Steve hadn’t got a job here because you absolutely wouldn’t be hanging around half as much.

“Hey, Heather? You seen Billy?”

The girl peered down at you from her lifeguard chair, removing her glasses to rest them on top of her head, “He’s on break.”

It took a moment for you to realize the girl wasn’t going to elaborate any further, and you decided to just find him without her help. “Yeah, okay… Thanks.”

Mrs. Wheeler’s appearance was common at the pool during the summers, especially now that Holly was old enough to get in the pool by herself. It gave Karen an excuse to be out of the house and lounge in the sun.

You didn’t expect her, however, to be lurking around in the pool’s storage area.

“Please, will you talk to me?” Karen asked, her voice tinged with desperation.

But as Billy turned around, his hair so damp it looked like he’d just been for a dip in the pool himself, his eyes focused on you for a moment as you peered around the corner.

“Stay away from me, Karen.”

The boy shouldered past her, walking right past you and back out toward the pool, Karen’s eyes widening as you entered her line of vision. Her mouth bobbed once, then twice, but before she could utter a word, you’d already rushed off, calling after Billy.

“Hargrove, I’m talking to you!”

You’d only caught up to him once he was halfway around the pool, your hand catching his forearm. “Hey, where did you run off to last night? You totally wrecked my car. Hopper said the tow-truck company practically laughed in his face when he asked if it was repairable.”

He didn’t respond, but you noticed his eyes flickering around the area as he continued to pant,

“Billy, are you okay? You’ve been acting weird since yesterday, and I-”

Your voice cut off, a small yelp falling from your lips as the boy suddenly released himself from your grip and instead grabbed your tricep, pulling you in closer as he leaned down to quietly speak in your ear,

“You need to leave me alone, got it?” His eyes, seemingly much darker than before, peered into your own, watching as your brow pulled in close and you struggled to shove him off. “Got. It?”

“Fine, God. I get it, alright? Now get off me, you psychopath.”

As soon as you were able to tug your arm from his grip, you stormed away from the boy, unaware of his shiny, blue Camaro that didn’t have a single scratch on it parked just a few feet away from your bike.

By the time you’d rode to the mall, your shirt was sticking to your back from the incessant summer sun, and you were almost foaming at the mouth in anger. Barely locking your bike up — something you probably should’ve been a little more careful with, considering it was now your only mode of transport — you stomped through the mall, pushing past idling teens until you finally reached the ice cream parlor.

“Oh, no. Not you, too. I already have her trying to eat this store into bankruptcy, I’m not dealing with-”

“Where is he?” You asked, ignoring the glares from Erica’s little demon friends as you pushed your way to the front of the counter.

“Uh, in the back. He’s-”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, ignoring Robin’s stuttering as you made your way out toward the stock room.

“Harrington-”

“Hey, you… Wow. You look… sweaty.”

Taking a moment, you decided it was in your best interest to not punch the boy for his comment, and instead, you grabbed the remainder of his banana, ripping it from his grasp and shoving the rest into your mouth as you glared at him.

His own cheeks resembled a hamster hoarding its food for the night, but you were in no joking mood to mention it.

“What happened to you?” Dustin asked, just before Robin pushed through the doors, annoyance clear on her face.

“All right, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there… Hey! My board! That was important data, shit birds.”

“I guarantee you, what we’re doing is way more important than your data.”

“The Russian thing?” You asked, dodging a swipe from Dustin.

“Really? You wanna just announce it on the P.A system instead? Let everyone know?”

“How do you know these Russians are up to no good anyways?”

When Dustin’s incredulous glare jumped from you to Steve, Robin huffed, “Please, I can hear everything. You are both extremely loud. You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape, and you’re trying to translate, but haven’t figured out a single word because you didn’t realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do? Sound about right?”

“Spot on, Buckley,” you sighed, picking up the book from the small desk where Dustin was sitting, “Think you can help?”

“Uh, no, this is extremely confidential- hey!”

Steve swiped the cassette player before Robin could get her hands on it, both himself and Dustin sending her an incredulous glare.

“Maybe I can help,” Robin shrugged. “I’m fluent in four languages, you know.”

“Russian?” Dustin asked, eyebrows raised in hope.

“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day,”

You couldn’t hold in the small snort of laughter and instead flicked through the book once more as Dustin and Steve stared at the girl, mouths open wide,

“That was Pig Latin, dingus.”

“Idiot,” Steve huffed, slapping Dustin with the empty banana skin you'd left on the table.

“But I can speak Spanish and French, and Italian, and I’ve been in band for 12 years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me.”

Steve still looked hesitant, his eyes darting between yourself and Henderson. He barely knew Robin, he wasn’t sure he could trust her with something like this. If this was even what Dustin claimed it to be. And yet, you needed all the help you could get. His eyes settled on you as if awaiting the final decision.

“Your turn to translate,” you settled for them, handing Robin the worn, red Russian-to-English dictionary, turning toward Steve, “your turn to sling ice-cream. I’m hungry, and she won't give me any more free samples.”

Robin held out the scoop, her big, blue eyes peering up at Steve, already knowing she’d won before he’d even handed her the cassette player.

“And then, he just… told me to get lost.”

“I don’t get it. Why did you even go see him in the first place?”

Placing the small tub next to where you were perched on the counter, you glared at the boy as he counted the change for a customer. “Because I was worried about him. I know, it’s stupid, but he seemed… I don’t know, he seemed different.”

“Rude and aggressive? Sounds just like Hargrove to me.”

“Yeah, well, he also totaled my car. That’s why I’m riding my stupid bike in this stupid weather.”

“Not got work today?” Steve asked, no longer interested in talking about Billy.

“No, we’re shut for the protest.”

Steve turned slightly, raising a brow, “And you're not there because…”

Sighing, you gently nudged him with your sneaker, “Because they don’t have a permit, dummy. And the last thing I need is Kline the Swine to get it shut down. Officer Greene is still on my ass, and I don’t need to give him any excuse to book me for… like, literally anything.”

“Why does he hate you so much?” Steve asked, leaning against the counter next to you as he grabbed your empty tub to throw away, but you merely shrugged, avoiding his curious glance, distracted by the new, familiar customers.

“Hey, you two,” you peered past Steve as El and Max came bounding up to the till, eyes wide as they gazed down at all of the different flavors of ice-cream, “Shopping?”

“Do you like it?” El asked, spinning on the spot to show off her new shirt as Max beamed at her.

Nodding, you sent them both a wide, proud smile. “Yeah. You look great. New shades, Max?”

The girl wiggled her brows at you as she placed them on top of her head. “Did you find Billy?”

“Ugh, please. I can’t listen to her moan about it… again.”

This time, your nudge to Steve’s side was a little harder.

“There’s more to life than just stupid boys,” El smiled, but the words sounded a little strange from her mouth.

“You know what, El? You’re so right,” you sent Steve an insolent smirk, batting your eyelashes as he glared back at you before turning around to face the girls.

“What can I get for you?”

Steve scooped the small vanilla swirl and strawberry ice creams into two cones, when the window behind you suddenly opened, Robin’s head poking out from inside,

“We’ve got our first sentence.”

“Seriously?” Steve asked, making his way back toward you, cones still in hand.

In an over-exaggerated accent, Robin announced, “The week is long.”

You both stared at her for a moment too long before Steve sighed, “Well, that’s thrilling.”

“I know. But, progress.”

With a loud slam, she was gone, and the window was once again closed.

“Okay, here you go. You got a strawberry, and then a vanilla with sprinkles, extra whipped cream.”

Steve handed the cones over to the girls, his brows furrowing slightly as he looked toward El, “Wait a second… Are you even allowed to be here?”

The two girls giggled as they ran from the shop, giving you their answer.

“And you’re not gonna do anything about that?” Steve asked, his hand shoved in the direction of the two girls.

Rolling your eyes, you jumped down from the small counter, accidentally bumping the boy in front of you slightly, “They’re teenage girls, Steve. What do you want me to do? Lock them away in a tower?”

“I’m pretty sure Hopper would be pissed if-”

“Hopper, Schmopper,” you groaned, eyes staring up at the boy, “She’s finally made a friend that isn't Mike Wheeler. Leave her alone. Now, I don’t think I’ve tried the mango sorbet yet…”

It turns out cracking a Russian spy code was much more boring when you had absolutely no idea what was going on.

The mall was already shut and had been for a while; the silence felt a little unsettling, but Robin had managed to decipher more of the message.

The week is long, the silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west.

Between the constant rewinding of the tape, the confusing translation, and the stupid music in the background, you felt like you were losing your mind. Thankfully, Steve wasn’t too far behind, either.

“It just can’t be right.”

“It’s right,” Robin argued back, barely waiting for Steve to lock up before you all began to make your way out.

“Honestly, I think it’s great news.”

“How is this great news?” Steve moaned as he began to walk next to you, “I mean, so much for being American Heroes, it’s total nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense-”

“It kinda sounds like nonsense,” you shrugged, avoiding Robin’s annoyed glance backward, “nonsense that’s gonna be going round, and round, in my head when I try to sleep tonight.”

“It’s too specific,” Dustin argued, “It’s obviously a code.”

“What do you mean, a code?”

“Like a super secret spy code.”

Steve continued to bicker, but Robin and Dustin held their ground. You just hoped if this was some kind of Russian spy shit, that it would be over and done with soon so you could hand over the evidence to… whoever, and get on with your life, never having to slowly die of boredom whilst Robin translates Russian letter by letter again. You weren’t any help, but Steve had offered to drop you — and your bike — home if you stayed. A decision you had progressively begun to regret with each passing hour.

“I can’t believe I’m about to agree with this strange child, but, yeah… totally. Evil Russians.”

You sent a gentle elbow into Steve’s ribs as he mocked the two, a feeble attempt at an apology sent your way in the form of a smile.

“So how do we crack it?”

Steve stopped, a hand on held out across your abdomen, causing you to stop and turn your attention back to him as he began to dig around in his pockets, eyes focused on the child’s ride in front of him, “Do you have a quarter?”

“Uh, no…” you scrunched up your nose, despite digging around in your pockets on the off chance that you did have change, “I think you’re a little too old for the ride, Steve.”

“I just… Hey, guys,” Steve called, causing Robin and Dustin to stop and turn, “Either of you have a quarter?”

“You sure you’re tall enough for that ride?” Robin joked, throwing the change toward him.

Steve inserted the coin, remaining crouched by the rocking horse. Rolling your eyes, you stepped forward, ready to tug him up by his ear, when the all too familiar music stopped you in place.

Steve’s eyes peered up toward you, wide and unbelieving. “You hear that, right?”

Robin interrupted, arms crossing over her chest in annoyance, “Uh, the music, Steve? Sure, everyone-”

But Steve’s focus remained on you, watching as the wheels began to turn in your brain, as Dustin shook his head, his attention turned to Robin, “They do this sometimes. It’s best to just let them get it out of their system-”

“Would you two just shut up and listen,” Steve huffed, finally pushing himself up to stand next to you.

“Holy shit,” you huffed out a humorless laugh, “the calls are coming from the house.”

“What are you-”

“The music!” Dustin caught on, pulling off his backpack to find the cassette player.

“I don’t understand,” Robin sighed, crossing her hands over her chest as she made her way toward you.

“It’s the exact same song on the recording.”

“Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?” Robin questioned, not sure she was willing to believe the evil Russians planned on taking over America via the Hawkins Starcourt Mall.

“'Indiana Flyer'? I don’t think so. This code it… It didn’t come from Russia. It came from here.”

You sat in the front seat of Steve’s car, bike haphazardly thrown in the back — something Dustin complained about the whole way to his house — staring at your living room window. The light was on, but there was no glare from the TV, meaning that your mother was home, and even worse, she was awake.

“You know, to go in, you actually have to, you know… go in,” Steve smirked, his dark eyes looking tired after a long day.

“I think she knows about the car,” you sighed, running a hand down your face and leaning further back into the seat. “I’m so dead.”

In any other situation, Steve would’ve rolled his eyes, told you to grow a pair, and told you to explain to your mother that it was an accident. An accident that wasn’t your fault. But Steve knew better.

God, you hated that he knew better.

“You’d have to be quiet, 'cause my folks are home, but… You can, you know, stay over if you’d prefer.”

Your mouth stopped mid-chew, hangnail half peeled off as you turned toward the boy, his eyes looking anywhere but at you, “Is that… I mean, are you sure?”

“Totally. If you’re free tomorrow, then we can hang out at Starcourt. I mean… I’ll be working, but you could come help us crack the code some more, you know? I could do with some company that isn’t Robin or Henderson.”

Your eyes scanned back towards your house, brow pinched together as you couldn’t help but wonder what awaited you inside. Maybe an extra day would help her calm down a little. Plus, she could always take the bus into work if need be, and you could call her from Steve’s and explain everything; at least that way, she could only verbally berate you.

Chewing at your bottom lip, you released a long sigh, feeling your shoulders slump in relief. “That, uh…that sounds good. Thanks.”

You didn’t intend to spend an entire day off at the mall, especially when Steve had to work, but everyone else was too busy to entertain you, and you were dead-set on not returning home for a while, hoping that if your mother had listened to the voicemail you’d left her last night from Steve’s home phone, maybe she’d calm down with a little time — and distance — between you both.

You knew you could only bury your head in the sand for so long, but you weren’t quite ready to face the music just yet.

So instead, you allowed Steve to drive you to Starcourt, where you remained in the back with Dustin, perched on the small chair as Robin and Steve took it in turns to face the unruly preteens looking for a sugar high.

Currently, however, dumb and dumber were out doing some recon — a pair of Dustin’s binoculars that made them look conspicuously shady — and you were twiddling your fingers in the back room, trying to make sense of whatever secret message the Russians were conveying.

But no matter how hard you stared at the whiteboard, the answer evaded you.

Stupid Russians and their stupid secret code.

When the small window opened and Robin’s head poked through, you couldn’t help but let out a long sigh, “Oh, thank God. I can’t work this shit out, so if-”

“Uh, someone’s here to see you.”

Peering at her skeptically, you pushed further, “Someone being who?”

“I don’t know, I’m not your secretary,” she shrugged, leaning in closer so her head was fully through the small window as she teased with a wide grin, “but it’s a boy.”

With pinched brows, you pulled yourself up from the uncomfortable chair and made your way out front, a familiar boy waiting off to the side who greeted you with a smile, “Hey. Got a new gig and didn’t tell me?”

“Hi, Patrick. What are you doing here?”

Patrick shrugged, his eyes darting down toward his shoes as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world, “I, uh, well, I went to the arcade first, in case you were working today, but the weird guy said you were off, so I thought I’d check here. You’re usually hanging out with Harrington, so…”

“Are you gonna order something? Because if not, scram.”

Turning your head, you saw the littlest Sinclair sibling, a perfected scowl on her face as she crossed her arms in front of her, eyebrow raised as if she were daring you to respond, but after babysitting the girl a while back, you knew better.

Pulling Patrick by the arm slightly so Erica could order her millionth free sample of ice-cream — if it wasn’t you, then it would definitely be Erica and her friends who put Scoops out of business — and moved toward the exit, barely sending a goodbye to Robin as you left.

“Instead of dating somebody because you think it’s gonna make you cooler, why don’t you date somebody you actually enjoy being around? Like me and Suzie.” Dustin sighed, as if he were a 40-year-old man schooling his stupid, teenage son about life and love.

“Oh, Suzie. You mean, ‘hotter than Pheobe Cates’, yeah, that Suzie. And let's think about how exactly you scored that beautiful girlfriend. Oh yeah, with my advice. Because that’s how this works, Henderson. I give you the advice, and you follow through. Not the other way around, all right, pea-brain?”

“Actually,” Dustin glared, pulling the binoculars away and holding them back toward Steve, “I took her advice. And I gotta say, it worked way better.”

Steve glared at the boy for a moment before snatching the binoculars from him, holding them up to where Dustin had been looking, and seeing you perched on the fountain next to Patrick Mckinney. A name that was beginning to taste a little sour on Steve's tongue.

“Yeah, well, what does she know?”

Dustin cocked an eyebrow, but it went unnoticed by Steve as he kept his eagle-eyed vision on you, “I mean, since she’s got a boyfriend and you’re still horribly, desperately single, I’d say she knows way more than-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold the reins there, cowboy. She does not have a boyfriend. They’re just… I don’t know, they hang out sometimes,” Steve began to stutter when he finally returned his attention to the fed-up looking boy, “I mean, I hang out with her, too. Doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t wanna,” Dustin shrugged, leaving Steve to try and formulate a response in his head as his mouth continued to bob, eventually settling on a sharp glare before returning his attention to where you sat, a wide smile pulling at you lips as the boy’s leg bounced nervously, slightly knocking you every time.

“They’re friends, alright? And I never said I wanted to date her. It wouldn’t work out, anyway.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dustin snorted, matter-of-factly.

Steve looked away for a moment, brows pinched together as he glanced toward Dustin before once again returning his attention to you, his glare somehow deepening, “Uh, what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Grabbing the binoculars from Steve and half choking him with the band, Dustin sighed, ignoring Steve’s strangled voice as he stood up straight, “Hey, careful, dumbass. You almost took my head off!”

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I didn’t. Just… No. Okay? Don’t even think about it.”

“About-”

“You and her, dipshit,” Dustin sighed, nodding his head in your direction, “It’s not happening. Not a chance in hell.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve swallowed down the annoyance he felt bubbling up in his throat, causing him to be a little too defensive, “Please, we’re like, best friends, alright? That’s it.”

“Sure. That’s why you can’t stop staring at her and her boyfriend, instead of helping to find the actual Russian spies threatening to do God knows what-”

“Not her boyfriend. I’m her best friend, remember? She’d of told me.”

“Either way,” Dustin sighed, scanning the mall with his binoculars for anyone who looked remotely suspicious… Or Russian, “absolutely not. We all know you’d fuck it up some how, and then it’ll be awkward, and the whole group will have to pick sides — and it won’t be yours — and then we’ll be fucked the next time some intergalactic monster tries to destroy the town.”

Steve’s jaw was slack, offense and annoyance evident on his features. “Why are you so certain I’d be the one to mess things up? And who the hell is we? We don’t know shit.”

“Look, I’ve already told her before. It can’t happen. I’m not dealing with the fallout. I’m already a child of divorce; I don’t need you two adding to that trauma.”

“You know we don’t need your permission, right? Like, I could totally date her, and you couldn’t stop us.”

Dustin scoffed, a sarcastic laugh falling from his lips. “Thought you didn’t want to?”

Your eyes widened at the familiar voices you could hear bickering in the distance. You’d only been gone a short while, and Dustin and Steve couldn’t have even known you were out here. Jesus, they were terrible at recon.

Turning, you managed to catch a glimpse of them between the passing people, both stood behind a large plant with a pair of binoculars held out in your direction as they continued to argue animatedly. At least you knew there was no chance either of them was a Russian spy.

Eyes widened, you realized that Patrick had spotted them too. Sending the boy a tight smile, you excused yourself, “I’ll be right back.”

The boys were late to notice your quickening pace, but as soon as their eyes connected with your own, they jumped apart, Dustin pushing into the line for ‘Imperial Panda’ and receiving a fair amount of stern words from the hungry patrons, and Steve simply turning abruptly, hands on his hips as he refused to look in your direction. You could tell his cheeks had begun to bloom a deep red as he kept his back to you, pretending that you weren’t there at all.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You practically hissed, shoving the older boy in the back and causing him to finally turn around.

“Oh, hey! It’s you! Didn’t see you there.”

Pointing a finger and waving it between Steve and Dustin when he finally rejoined the group, looking a little like a puppy with its tail between its legs, you sent them a glare that should’ve put them 6 feet under.

“I know damn well you saw me, Harrington. Both of you. With your stupid little binoculars. What the hell are you two watching me for? Aren’t you supposed to be on a super secret-”

“Ah, ah ah!” Dustin yelled, rushing around the plant to hold a hand over your mouth as his eyes widened, “Secret being the pivotal word in that sentence. Plus, we are doing…that. You just happened to be in the way.”

Your eye twitched once, twice, three times, as you tried to remind yourself that it was not socially acceptable to bite a teenager, before Dustin quickly removed his hand, shoving Steve slightly with annoyance and irritation as he lowered his voice, “Dude, I told you-”

“You didn’t tell me anything, Henderson. Now drop it.”

Rubbing your hand over your forehead before chancing a quick glance back toward Patrick, the boy patiently waiting for you by the fountain, watching your heated exchange with the two boys, you tried your best to calm down a little.

“Look, I don’t know what you two are up to, and frankly, I don’t care. But stop. Being. Weird. Got it?”

“Mmhm,” Steve nodded, eyes wide and rounded as they peered at you, “got it.”

“Yep. Yes, Ma’am.”

“Now I’m gonna head back over there, and I’ll meet you at Scoops once you’ve finished this stupid spy recon… shit. Okay? Now, smile and nod.”

It would’ve been comical to see their matching strained smiles, had you not have felt incredibly embarrassed by their behavior. Thankfully, as you returned toward Patrick, you didn’t see Dustin’s arm raise, sending an overzealous wave to the boy, only to have his hand quickly slapped away by Steve,

“Don’t wave at him, dude.” Steve sighed, his brows slightly furrowed as his own eyes connected with Patrick’s across the walkway.

“Come on,” Dustin interrupted Steve’s one-way glaring contest, “we have a Russian spy to find.”

Scoops had calmed down as it got later in the afternoon, and you found yourself doodling on Robin’s converse as she sat re-reading her notebook aloud and checking the dictionary before slurping her milkshake after every line.

“The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you treat lightly… This is so infuriating. Couldn’t they have just not made it into a stupid secret code?”

“A trip to China does sound nice right about now…” you sighed, shrugging as the girl glanced up at you, “What? I’m hungry. And Imperial Panda do these amazing noodles-”

A loud knock interrupted you mid-sentence, and Robin hopped through the open window with a roll of her eyes. Signing the paperwork for the delivery, you noticed Robin standing stock-still for a moment, staring at the man’s hat. Eventually, he went his own way, and Robin quickly rushed out of the door to watch as he left.

“Jesus, got a crush or something, Buckley? I thought my taste in guys was weird.”

“The silver cat…” Robin muttered, her eyes wide as the clogs in her mind began whirling, “Silver cat!”

Rushing back through the door she grabbed your arm and pulled you from the counter, practically dragging you out of the shop, pushing past Steve and Henderson who returned looking rather defeated.

Leaping up onto a small ledge surrounding a ridiculously large plant, you watched as she continued to mumble to herself out loud, “A trip to China sounds nice…”

“Imperial Panda is that way.” You tugged slightly at her blue shorts, pointing toward the small stand, feeling your stomach begin to rumble.

“A trip to China sounds nice!” Robin glanced at you as you finally joined her on the ledge, beginning to connect the dots.

“If you tread lightly… shoes? A shoe store?”

“Kaufman shoes…” the girl’s eyes widened, gasping slightly when she found the shop, gesturing toward the store, “if you tread lightly.”

“When blue and yellow meet in the west,” you both span around, like two broken compasses trying to find the right direction, stopping as your eyes fell on the large clock,

One hand blue. One yellow.

“9.45,” you mumbled, eyes drawn to Robin.

“And you said we had to act normal? What are you two doing?” Steve interrupted your silent conversation with Robin, peering up at you both with a furrowed brow.

“We cracked it.” Robin joyfully sighed, not quite believing her own words.

“Cracked what?”

“The code, Steve,” a small laugh fell from your mouth as you stepped down from the ledge, the boy’s arms already out to steady you, “She cracked the code.”

“We totally cracked it,” Robin smirked as she too jumped from the small ledge.

“Oh please, that was basically all you. Lynx deliveries, 'the silver cat'. Genius.”

“You with ‘a trip to China’ and the shoes!”

“We never have to hear that stupid phrase ever again. I could kiss you right now, Robin Buckley, I swear to God!”

Robin’s cheeks tinged a pretty pink, the flush blooming across her entire face and finding its way down her neck as she smiled wide at you.

Steve rolled his eyes as Dustin simply looked on in astonishment, still not quite getting it but happy that you were both certain of your victory. “Look, I’m glad you two are like… bonding, or whatever. But can you just explain what the hell you’re talking about? What does it even mean?”

Nightly storms weren’t an odd occurrence during the long hot summers in Hawkins, but something about this one, the way the rain socked through to your bones, the thunder clapping loudly against the dark clouds… It made everything feel a little more ominous.

“Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes.” Robin practically shouted over the rain.

The four of you had been perched on the roof just after 8.30pm, awaiting some kind of movement in the delivery bay.

Dustin struggled to see through his binoculars, and you couldn’t hold in the slight giggle as Steve continued to brush back his long, wet hair from his face, “You look like a drowned rat, Harrington.”

The boy glared at you, half out of irritation, half from trying to keep the rain from his eyes. Thankfully, your jacket had a hood. Well, technically, it was Steve’s jacket that he had let you borrow earlier that morning.

“Is that really what’s important right now?” He scoffed, returning his attention to the guards in the bay, trying to find anything moderately suspicious.

“Absolutely,” you smirked, shoving his shoulder slightly. “We all have bad hair days, Steve. It’s fine.”

Before Steve could respond, the sound of high-pitched whistling sounded, a man in a yellow poncho began to wheel out some boxes. Imperial Panda boxes.

“They’re with that whistling guy, ten o’clock.” Dustin watched closely as the man received a nod from a guard before making his way toward another door.

“What do you think is in there?”

“Guns, bombs?”

“Chemical weapons?”

“Whatever it is, security is tight. They’re armed to the teeth,” you sighed, eyes focused on a bald-headed man guarding a door.

Now, he looked like a Russian spy.

“Great,” Steve sighed, once again wiping the rain water from his eyes, “that’s just great.”

The man was given clearance to get into the guarded warehouse, and you all squinted to try and get a better look inside.

“What's in there?”

“It’s just more boxes,” Dustin confirmed, sighing.

“Let me check it out,” Steve grumbled, grabbing the binoculars from Dustin as the two began to argue, each tugging at them.

“No, I’m still-”

“Let me see it.”

A large bang echoed around as the binoculars hit the panel, causing the attention of the heavily armed guards to turn upward in your direction.

The four of you ducked, your heart beating in your ears as you prayed you were quick enough to not be seen. As your breathing began to calm, you noticed Steve’s arm slung across your front, part of your jacket in his clenched fist as he must’ve tugged you down, but his other hand…

His other hand was grasped tightly in Robin’s. Fingers clasped, as if in a shared prayer.

Lightly shoving Steve’s arm away from you seemed to pull the boy out of his terrified trance, his head turning to you as his Adam’s apple bobbed. He quickly turned toward Robin, finally noticing his grip around her hand, and the two let go. When Steve turned back toward you, you were instead staring directly ahead, refusing to meet his concerned gaze.

You heard one of the guards yell and took that as your cue to leave quickly, managing to make it back inside and down one of the long hallways with ease.

The joke about Steve looking like a drowned rat wasn’t so funny anymore as the four of you made your way back toward Scoops, drenched to the bone.

“Well, I think we found your Russians.”

The car ride was — as expected — full of conspiracy's and chatter as Steve drove everyone home. Dustin and Robin led the conversation as you settled into the back seat of the BMW, uncomfortably wet and desperate to get anywhere that was warm and dry, and more importantly, not this car.

“You wanna sit up front?” Steve asked, turning to face you once Dustin was safe inside. “Heater works better.”

“No, I’m good.”

Steve watched you for a second longer as you kept your eyes on Dustin’s house, watching as his bedroom light flickered on, before letting out an exasperated sigh and pulling away.

“You know, that was really smart of you. Figuring out the code-”

Rolling your eyes, you kept your focus on the rain as it hit the window, rolling down before quickly being replaced by another droplet. “That was pretty much all Robin.”

“That’s not what she said,” Steve mumbled, but accepted the silence you returned, even if only for a minute or so.

“So… What did that McKinney kid wanna talk to you about? I didn’t realize you were so close.”

Shrugging, you ignored the first part of his question. “We’re not. Not really.”

“Doesn’t seem that way,” Steve pushed, his eyes finally meeting yours in the rear view mirror as he pulled up to a stop sign, “You’ve hung out a few times, right?”

“We’re friends, okay? I’m allowed other friends that aren’t you, even if they’re guys. Same as you and Robin, right?”

Steve’s jaw slackened at your blunt, abrasive tone, his hands squeezing the leather of his steering wheel as he forced down the bitchy response that crawled up his throat, the ‘Old Steve’ threatening to make a reappearance. But he had worked hard to be better, and just because you were taking out your bad mood on him, it didn’t mean he had to reciprocate.

But silence made Steve uncomfortable, and his brain reacted a little slower than his tongue. He might be a little nosey, but he also might be a little masochistic.

“So… What did he want?”

“It’s not important-”

“It seemed pretty important when you rushed me and Dustin and gave us a talking to.”

“That’s because you two were acting like idiots.”

“Never seemed to care before,” Steve shrugged, noting your glare through the mirror. “What? I’m just saying. If you’re worried about what he thinks, then maybe-”

“He asked me out. Like, on a real date- Jesus Christ, Steve.” you cursed when the boy stepped on the brake slightly, causing the car to jolt harshly.

“Sorry, I, uh… I thought I saw a deer.”

You glared at the boy as you rubbed your neck, hoping that the seat belt wouldn’t leave a burn mark.

“So… When is this, uh, real date happening?”

“Turn here,” you sighed, leaning forward slightly and pointing down a long, winding road. “I’m gonna stay at Hop’s.”

“You’re not going home?” Steve questioned, concern etched in his brow, “You haven’t seen your mom yet? You know the longer you leave it, the worse it’s gonna be-”

“Jesus, how many other kids do you have, Dad? That you know about, anyway?” You glared. You knew he was most likely glaring back, but the dark road had no lights, so you refused to acknowledge what you couldn’t see.

“I always practice safe sex, thank you very much. Look, I’m just saying because you know… I like, care about you,” Steve sighed, his voice dropping as he mumbled, “even when you’re in a bad mood and taking it out on me. Maybe I can come in when you explain it. I already told you-”

“And I already told you, Harrington. I don’t need you there when I tell her. Which I will. Just… Not right now. There are more pressing matters, remember. Russian spies ring any bells?”

Steve sighed, but remained quiet for the rest of the short drive until he pulled up close to Hopper’s cabin with your directions, and you noted the curtain twitch as Steve dimmed the headlights.

You climbed out of the car, half expecting to see Hopper clamber out of the cabin door as you stopped at the driver’s window, waiting for Steve to roll it down.

“Tomorrow evening. He’s gonna pick me up, and we’re gonna head to the Hideaway and get dinner.”

Steve peered up at you, trying his best to ignore how the milky moonlight reflected against your skin, highlighting your cheekbones and making your eyes glow with a brightness he’d never quite noticed before. “Well, if you need anything just, uh… just give me a call, alright? I don’t have plans after work, so…”

“Will do. I’ll, uh… I’ll probably come see you at work tomorrow anyway. I have the early shift.”

“Yeah, great,” Steve smiled, swallowing down a lump that was slowly forming in his throat the more he stared up at you. “You need a ride?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“What about to the mall? I can come get you.”

“It’s really not that far, Steve. Plus, you’ll be in work.”

“I’ll come get you in my break-”

“Steve, please. I’ll be fine. Drive safe, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah… you too.” Steve shook his head, clearing his throat as he realized his mistake, “I mean, yeah… you know what I mean. See you later.”

You watched Steve turn around, his car carefully driving off into the distance before you made your way inside, more than ready to have a hot shower and get out of your soaked clothing. You'd barely closed the door before jolting slightly as you saw Joyce standing in the middle of the room, panic rising at the sight of an unconscious Hopper sprawled out on the couch.

“What the hell happened?”

[roseypwark]

Four | Homework

ENHYPEN Eighth Member : 지유 JIYU / 지유나 Ji Yuna

Table of Contents

//

Even after debuting, Yuna is still interning with Hyowon.

She prefers is that way. She would hate to lose her access to a professional recording studio, or her access to someone as knowledgeable as Pdogg. But by being an intern, she's occasionally given homework, aka some sort of work to complete on her own and turn in to Hyowon by a deadline.

Unfortunately, her day job and her internship don't always correspond. Sometimes, she's the busiest she's ever been with promotions for "Given-Taken," so much so that she has no chance to get to the studio (while also going to school and sleeping an appropriate amount) to record her required "one song every two weeks" that Hyowon started enforcing to get her out of her head so much about what is good enough to bring to completion.

Most of the boys are in the living room when she hovers in the doorway of the second bedroom.

"I have to record a song for my internship. Does anyone need to use the makeup room?"

Jay is absorbed in his video game and takes advantage of Sunoo getting distracted to do... something that probably means he wins or whatever. No one jumps to object, so maybe it really was that easy and Yuna spent the last half hour trying to psych herself up over nothing.

"I think we're good, Jiyu," Jungwon gives her a verbal response, which she appreciates.

"You're recording a song? Like, for our next comeback?" Jake asks.

"Uh, no. It's like homework? From Hyowon—Pdogg. For my internship. I usually record in the studio but we've been busy, so…”

"Oh, cool. Can I listen?"

"...right now?"

"Yeah. If that's cool with you."

Jake stands and that makes it feel like Yuna doesn't have a choice, now. She could probably very easily still say no, or maybe offer for him to listen when she's done recording and editing. Or she could just say no. But she doesn't.

Instead, she says, "Okay. I guess."

Ten minutes later she ends up back in the living room, this time with all seven of her members sitting on the ground in front of her while she props her phone up awkwardly on the couch armrest.

It had been a long debacle of each member wanting to sit in on her recording session, slowly pulling into the makeup room one by one. It didn't take long for it to become overcrowded and everyone relocated back into the living room. The acoustics probably aren’t as good out here.

Yuna has had her performances broadcasted to millions. She has a surprisingly large and loyal fan base already after only a few weeks of being a fully debuted artist. She gets thousands of likes within seconds anytime she posts online.

Singing a short song in front of seven people shouldn't be daunting. It's not a big deal. She barely had any time to flesh it out over the last two weeks on account of her hectic schedule. It's fine if it's not perfect. It doesn't need to be.

(Except to Yuna, it does. Because anything less that perfect isn't good enough. Anything less than perfect will never be good enough for anyone, especially herself, because if she isn't intrinsically perfect, she's worthless.

And even though she can tell herself that's ludicrous and she knows it's a ridiculous line of thought, it's how she thinks. She thinks she will never be good enough.)

She has to restart three times because her hands won't stop shaking and she can't play the strings on her guitar right. Then, she gets most of the way through but has to go back because she didn't take a good enough breath before the bridge. But she does eventually stumble her way to the end of her under-produced wreck of a song.

She expects side eyes and judging looks from her members for all her mistakes. That's how her mother would react. When Yuna made her first song when she was four years old, her mom kept telling her it was quiet time until she got the hint and stopped singing.

Only when Yuna had made what she thought was a particularly good song, would she try and show her mom. But she was always too busy with Andrew to really pay attention to her daughter. Eventually, Yuna stopped trying altogether, hoarding her craft unless an oppurtunity—like a school talent show—presented itself.

Her members reaction is immediate. She doesn't have time to hold her breath and brace for impact, for criticism, to be brushed off for her mediocrity. They start cheering before she's even able to reach over and stop recording, their applause caught on tape. She'll need to cut that out before sending the finished product to Hyowon.

"Wow, you wrote that?"

"You're an amazing lyricist. It's like poetry."

"You really are such a great singer, Jiyu."

Their praise comes easily. Yuna feels stiff and awkward in comparison sitting there and taking it.

The niceties of her mentors or of strangers have stopped meaning as much. It's expected that one is polite to those they do not know (or those they are actively and obviously trying to encourage, in Hyowon's case). But with her members, she can expect honesty.

They are who she will be writing songs for, eventually. Her work with TXT had been minuscule and very closely monitored. She had hoped to be more involved in Enhypen's debut mini album than she was but she understands these things take time and she is unseasoned, also incredibly young.

In the future, though, she hopes to be her team's main producer. That is a far off dream, the one she replaced her last dream of being an idol with. Without a grand goal to strive towards, she feels lost, so she spends what little free time she has honing her skills in music writing and reaching for the next big thing.

She has not spoken to her members about her aspirations in music production but they are aware of her internship and her capacity for songwriting. And now, they have heard her music in its rawest form, ugly and unrefined and up for critique.

They should be truthful with her. They should pick out all her mistakes. They should point out how she played a G major instead of a G major 7 for a second there in the first chorus, a stupid mistake that she debated starting over because of but didn't want to after she fumbled the intro so many times in a row.

They should say her entire "performance" was terrible because she messed up so much at the start. Instead, they're being kind. And it feels genuine?

They're not filming anything today. It's their first day off since they debuted. They have no reason to fake their reactions. There's no one to perform to right now, no personas or fronts to uphold (except the one Yuna wears without rest to appear normal in the face of society's expectations being lost on her).

When they eat dinner, Yuna accepts a portion of the ramen Jay makes. She calls Heeseung “oppa" when referencing something he said earlier in the week. A grin splits his face behind his hand but he doesn’t comment.

(Yuna ends up forgetting to cut out the boys’ cheers when she sends the recording to Hyowon.)

//

<< PREV // NEXT >>

Tag List: @pjselee @sumzysworld

[dark-elf-writes]

The Stolls, who grew up alongside and in the same cabin as Wuxian, the loud, fun rambunctious boy with the great prank ideas who always can tell them apart

The Stolls, who have to take over the cabin after Luke defects and end up crying on the shoulders of one of the two boys he’d tried to kill

The Stolls, who have Wuxian unending support and help in managing the cabin even after almost everyone there turns their back on him

The Stolls, who never thought they would meet someone who would be able to understand them completely beyond each other someone managing to do just that

(Wei Wuxian, a mess of three life times worth of memories that don’t quite fit, surrounded by familiar faces but not at the same time finding solace in two boys who love to play games just as much as him)

Wei Wuxian was their first friend at camp.

Before their brother’s charming smile, before the too full cabin full of siblings and non siblings alike, before they fully got into camp, there was a boy and a flute.

He’s sitting on the roof of what their guide calls The Big House, dangling his legs over the porch as he plays what they’re pretty sure is a song their mom used to listen to in the mornings. When he sees them, however, he grins as much as he can while still playing and the song changes.

Within two minutes of arriving at camp after learning their whole lives have been a lie and they can’t go back to the only home they’ve ever known they get fucking Rick Rolled.

Connor laughs so hard he falls on his ass in the grass in front of the Big House. Travis isn’t far behind him, grabbing his aching ribs and trying valiantly not to jostle them too much even as he laughs. The boy breaks off his playing with a laugh of his own and jumps off of the roof like it’s nothing. He waves off the satyr guiding them and says he can handle orientation.

(The satyr looks more than a little doubtful, which considering the boy looks Connor’s age or younger is probably fair, but lets him take over anyway.)

He calls himself Wei Wuxian and smiles as he holds a hand out to Travis to help him up the stairs.

Wei Wuxian is unclaimed, but he acts more like a Hermes kid than anything else. He’s always laughing, always playing pranks, always right in the middle of the chaos. He’s Connor and Travis’s best friend.

(Then Wei Wuxian is claimed but there’s no where for him to go but Hermes cabin, but he’s still their best friend. They knew he could see ghosts and raise the dead already, who would him officially being not their brother change anything. They’re all still cousins at the end of the day.)

Then Luke defects and Wei Wuxian is screaming as he drags a dying Percy out of the woods. He’s covered in what looks like dog bites if the dog was the size of a fucking truck. They know, as they sit in the infirmary with the Jiang siblings waiting for him to wake up, what Luke did. It’s harder to wrap their minds around him using a fucking hellhound on Wuxian than it is to imagine him poisoning Percy. Killing is one thing, but this is torture and how can he ever forgive them for what their brother did.

It turns out incredibly easily. He looks at them through Yanli’s shaking arms and grins weakly. Shakily.

“You should see the other guy.”

(They should, if only so they could strangle their brother for what he did to their friend.)

They try to offer him Luke’s old bed after he’s released from the infirmary. He laughs and swings up a couple of the youngest kids in the cabin on the bunk instead.

Connor and Travis aren’t the oldest in the cabin, but they’ve been there the longest of the claimed kids… of the Hermes claimed kids, so when it comes time to pick a new head counselor Wei Wuxian turns to both of them and the rest of the cabin follows. They’re worried they’re going to fuck it up, but Wei Wuxian is always there to help.

“It’s not like I have a cabin of my own, do I?” He says as he helps them with the little details they never knew Luke had to do like setting up their activity schedules and trying to keep a chore chart going. (He joins them in counselor meeting too, even though he technically isn’t one. No one ever kicks him out and Chiron only looks a bit sad the first time he sees Wei Wuxian sitting next to the Stolls with his feet kicked up on the table and his chair tipped on its back legs.)

Wei Wuxian is their best friend, and no matter what happens they will always be as loyal to him as he was to them.

[infoactionratio7]

(you) on my arm - s. adamu

summary: sydney is at a wall, she has no ideas when it comes to the new menu at the bear. she decides to go to a bookstore for some new inspiration, she finds it, but not in the way she was expecting.

pairing: sydney adamu x fem! bookseller! reader

word count: 2,514

note: annoying! carmy bc he literally is insane, kinda fluffy meet cute vibes, reader just moved to chicago, inspired by the song (you) on my arm by leith ross cause the song is rlly cute! also sydney gives me sapphic vibes, she definitely would have a crush on a girl!

monday morning -

Sydney was pissed, she had sent at least ten messages to Carmy in the last twenty minutes. Some about the new menu they were working on together, some about the fact that he had been a bitch the night before when he kicked everyone out because Claire just had to see the new restaurant. She ran her hands down her face in frustration as she sat at her dad's kitchen table, the sun streaming in through the blinds into the apartment. It warmed the floor as she got up from the table, debating what to do. She had no ideas left, everything was either not working out, or it just didn't fit the menu for the new revamped restaurant.

"Sydney, where are you headed off to today?" Her dad walked into the room with a steaming cup of coffee, freshly brewed from a new coffee blend she had found shopping the day before.

"Uh well Carm is not responding so I'm gonna head over to The Bear and meet up with him for a little then see where the day goes from there I guess." She walked out of the dining area and put her breakfast dishes away.

"Okay honey, have a good day. Hope he stops being an ass." She laughed, "Me too... me too."

Sydney grabbed her shoes out of the closet she had thrown them in last night, slipping them on and grabbing her bag. "I'll see you later dad." She grabbed her keys, and started making her way to the restaurant where she could deal with Carmy in person.

-

You looked around the bookstore, you had only been open for a month but it had been a hit within the community. You had almost any book anybody could want. There were teens coming from the school a few blocks away to get some cheesy romance novels to bring to the park and read with their friends, and there were grandparents coming in to get their grandchildren a new picture book about god knows what. You even had some people come in and request books you had never heard of before, you promptly ordered two copies of any book you didn't have. One for the customer, and one for you, to read and explore the pages.

It was a beautiful space, tall ceilings strung with fairy lights and lanterns, trying to bring some sense of whimsy to the dull days in Chicago. The books were arranged in every which way, requiring the customers to truly search for a book they wanted to read. You had tables full of recommendations, from people online and the employees of the bookshop. You really enjoyed curating all the titles you had in your collection. Tourists looking for a cute little magnet or souvenir adored the hole in the wall place, a safe space to just cuddle up and read a book.

You had a few customers that day, a mom and her son looking for his first chapter book to read. You had suggested he read The Magic Tree House, a series, about a brother and sister and their time traveling tree house. There was a tall guy with a buzzcut, who said he worked just down the street and was looking for a book about how to get rid of mold in the structure of a building. He seemed in dire need of some help, so you found the best book possible, The Toxic Mold Recovery Guide. You had no idea you had the book but it was meant to be. He thanked you immensely, leaving his name and number just in case you ever needed anything. His name was Richie, he seemed pretty nice.

Low music played as you restocked a shelf, you hated the idea of having Colleen Hoover books in the store but they were a big source of income. They absolutely flew off the shelves. The least touched section of the store were the cookbooks, it seemed like everyone in Chicago was moving too fast to just dedicate one hour of their day to making a meal from scratch. It was disappointing, because you had a large selection, from Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child to Momofuku by David Chang and Peter Meehan. You knew that someday it might come in handy and you would be lucky to have all the cookbooks.

-

Sydney walked into the restaurant in a sour mood, Carmy had still not responded to any of her texts and she knew he was here. She walked straight into the office, passing the locker room, sans lockers and covered in black powder. Richie furiously flipping through a book that said something about mold on the cover. He glanced up at her

"Shut the fuck up." She was taken aback

"I didn't even fucking say anything Richie," he scoffed at her

"Well I was preparing for you to say something dumb as hell, and you did so I stand by my first statement." He looked back down at the book and mumbled something unintelligible to himself. She rolled her eyes and made her way into the office.

"Carm are you here?" Turning the corner she saw the chef, surrounded by papers and various file folders. He had his phone in his hand and was about to dial a number, "You little bitch, you fucking had your phone this entire time." She couldn't believe what was right in front of her.

"What do you mean chef?" Carmy looked confused, "Of course I had my phone, I'm about to call the fridge guy."

Rolling her eyes she brought her hand up to her face, holding her forehead in her palm. "I texted you at least ten fucking times, you couldn't even bother yourself to respond!" Shaking her head she sank down into the office chair Carmy had abandoned an hour ago.

He looked around the room, trying to get her to understand how much work he had been doing, "Syd I've been trying to make sense of this paperwork for hours, I haven't had time to respond to your messa-"

Fak's head popped into the doorframe, "Carmy I got your text about helping Richie clean up the mold but he's being mean to me." Sydney turned from Fak to the red faced chef sitting on the floor. He had been caught in a lie, of course Fak came in at just the right time for this to happen.

"Okay fuck you chef, I'm leaving." Sydney shrugged, stood up and left the room. She heard heated words from Carmy as she walked out of the office and passed the locker room again, now he was pissed at Fak, as usual. She heard her name as she turned around,

"Sydney, wait a sec come here."

"What do you want Richie, I thought you wanted me to shut the fuck up." She crossed her arms tight and shot him a pointed look.

"You should go to that bookstore a few blocks down, I got this damn mold book earlier and saw a shit ton of cookbooks. You should check it out." She sent him a tight smile and turned her back to him. "Thanks Chef."

-

You had just finished restocking the shelves for the day when the little bell above the door rang. You went behind the desk and called out, "Welcome to The Book Worm, If you need anything let me know!"

You heard no response so you just busied yourself cleaning up the case that was behind the checkout, it housed all your special edition signed or first edition copies of books. It needed to be dusted pretty often because you wanted to keep the quality of the books at their highest, just in case anyone would ever want to purchase one.

You heard a thud come from behind you, and turning around you looked down at the counter. There was a stack of six cookbooks placed on the counter in front of you. Looking up you saw one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen since you had moved in to the city. Her hair was long and perfectly braided, her eyes a beautiful shade of umber catching the light in a hypnotic way. She had a grimace on her face, yet still looked stunning. You had no idea how to react, so instinctively you started to enter the books into the register as you made some small talk,

"So how has your day been," She sighed and looked up to meet your gaze, "If I'm being honest, shitty. My fucking partner wouldn't respond to my messages and when I went to talk to him he had is phone in his hand about to call someone. So yeah really fucking shitty." You looked back down at the book at disappointment, of course she had a partner and of course she was straight.

Awkwardly smiling you tried to think of a good response"Oh, um, wow. That's pretty shitty I'm sorry." She seemed to sense your disappointment, trying to save the conversation, "Shit uh, my business partner I mean, he's a little bitch sometimes. We're uh, opening a business- or I should say um," She rubbed the back of her neck, "We're kinda rebranding his brother's old restaurant, its a lot." You had finished entering all the books into the system, your chest had filled with warmth when she rushed to clarify that he was her business partner. You thought that maybe, just maybe it might be because she wanted to make sure you knew she was single, and not exactly straight.

"I guess that explains the cookbooks then," You looked at her, she had been staring at you in a flustered state of shock. "What, oh, uh, yeah! I'm kinda stuck making the menu so wanted to get some inspiration."

Sharing an understanding smile, you read her total out to her. She grabbed her wallet and pulled out some cash, as she handed it to you her fingers brushed along yours. It sent chills down your spine, no matter how cliche it might be, you knew that she was someone to keep close. Your face flushed red as you took the cash and put it into the register, printing her receipt and giving her any change she needed back.

You decided that since she got so many books you would give her a free tote bag, just so she could carry all the books out of the shop. You pulled one off of a hook behind you and started to put the books into a bag. You decided to quietly slip a business card with your cell number and a little note into a book so she could find it and contact you. A subtle way of screaming, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen I want to spend the rest of my life with you, without being too forward. As you finished packing the bag, the two of you both happened to say something at the same time.

"Do you wanna come see my restu-"

"Do you work at the restura-"

You flushed

"No you can go-"

"No you can go - sorry um. Do you want to come to the opening of the restaurant. It's uh, the one down the street, we're not opening for a while but, if you want to come to the friends and fam-"

You cut her off, wanting her to know you really wanted to go to her restaurant, "I would love to go... what was your name?"

"Sydney, It's uh Sydney" Her face got hot, nervous about the fascinating bookseller she just had the pleasure of meeting.

"Well Sydney, I would love to go. Just let me know the details," You softly smiled as you gave her the bag filled with books. She looked to you and grabbed a bookmark you had as a display that happened to have the shop's phone number on it. "I'll call you, um when we get closer to the open date, promise." You smiled, hoping that she would get in contact with you sooner than she expected to. She turned to leave.

"Thanks for coming in, really good to meet you Sydney." The door rang again and she sent you a wave through the glass, walking away quickly.

You were frozen, you had just given a random girl you just met your number, and had openly flirted with her for all the world to see. You crouched down onto the small stool you had behind the desk, tucked your head into your knees and screamed. You were feeling rushes of emotion and didn't think you would ever recover from that interaction. The bell rang again just as you finished screaming, you shot up and saw a group of teenagers heading to the new books you had just set out.

"Welcome to The Book Worm, If you need anything just holler!"

-

Sydney rushed back to The Bear, she was so utterly mortified, she had never seen someone so radiant and in their element. The chef couldn't contain her emotions as she stormed into the restaurant, Richie was the first person she saw, he started to say something,

"Not right now Richie I swear to God" The tall man was taken aback but threw his hands up in surrender, not wanting to get involved.

She might as well have ran into the office at the speed she was going, throwin the bag of cookbooks on the ground and closing the door, sliding down the back of the door she groaned,

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, fucking, fuck," dragging out the last word as she hit the floor.

Carmy stared at her from the floor a few feet away, "Yo Syd what happened to you? Looks like you just ran a marathon." He chuckled at the expression on her face.

"I just met the most beautiful girl and totally fucked up my chances with her cause I left so quickly." Sydney put her hands into her face and just sat there marinating in her embarrassment.

Carmy had some strong suits, his attention to detail one of them. He noticed something poking out of one of the books. He grabbed it, hoping that it was something that would change Sydney's mood before he had to work with her for more hours than they could count. He grinned taking the note out of the book and reading it,

"Hey Syd," He reached out to give her the note.

She looked up from behind her fingers, "What?"

He shook his hand, implying he wanted her to take the note from his grip. She groaned, then leaned forward to forcefully take it out of his hand.

She read the note, and smiled. Thank God you slipped her this note.

cookbook girl -

i hope you enjoy your SIX cookbooks, i have some more you could borrow for some inspiration. text me

Sydney's face heated up as she leaned back into door and scoffed.

Carmy had saved the day, one again.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hey Raven, are you going to watch the upcoming new Disney movie "Wish"?

I've seen mixed reviews, but i'm lowkey excited since we get to see a new Disney villain, especially since Disney got really lame villains after all the old classic movies!

Have you seen the trailer for the movie? What are your thoughts so far?

I saw Wish with a friend recently! I'll give my thoughts on the trailers here (in case you don't want spoilers for the film itself) and put my full thoughts beneath the cut (if you're okay with spoilers).

Looks-wise, I think Disney was definitely trying to go for something more stylistic and painting-esque for this?? And while I commend the effort, it definitely doesn't look as interesting as Puss in Boots 2: The Last Wish. The humor also definitely isn't for me, it feels very "quirky" and "so relatable" (Asha reminds me of Mirabel in that sense), and other times too juvenile (like the goat butt joke). I do like the idea of the villain passing as a good guy in-universe and actually being vain and selfish, especially since the marketing is making it clear who the bad guy is rather than making it a "twist" villain scenario. Not sure if I like Magnifico himself though??? All the ads with him in it feel like Disney is trying too hard to make people thirst for him. From just the trailers, Magnifico does seem interesting and like more of a return to the traditional "villain" rather than the protagonist having to deal with an existential dread or concept.

***Spoilers for Wish beneath the cut!***

Right off the bat, my first impression is the narrative is SO ham-fisted. Within the first 5 minutes alone we're establishing so much information and in such a clunky, unnatural way. Like... Asha says hi to her friends but then they robotically have a dialogue where they overtly call each other "friends" just so it's clear to the audience (when in reality no one talks like that). It's telling instead of showing, and this happens sooo many times early in the film.

Could not for the life of me remember the friends or their names. There were just too many of them when 1 or 2 would have been just fine to move the plot along and to help Asha. (Yes, I know they're a reference to the 7 Dwarves but it's STILL not necessary to have so many just for a reference.)

Bruh, the makeup in this movie is on point. Every time there was a close up of a character, I was staring at their eye makeup (especially Asha and the queen's).

Asha as a protagonist was... fine? She feels very close to Mirabel and at times Rapunzel in her character. I didn't dislike her by any means, but she didn't reinvent what it means to be a Disney protag. Her motivations also come off as… really “out of nowhere”. We’re told she “cares too much”, but she initially only wants to save the wishes of her mom and grandpa; she randomly decides she has to free ALL wishes midmovie and that was jarring. There could have been a smoother transition. Instead, it was abrupt and Asha didn’t change in any meaningful way. Even her “I want” song was vague (what exactly is “to have something more for us than this”?) and didn’t connect well with her character.

I do really like her design though! Her freckles, earrings, and how her hair moves are my favorite details.

Valentino was not as annoying as I thought he would be. Still didn't care for his sass and brand of humor, but at least he helped out a few times.

I called it, the film is trying so hard to make Magnifico "hot" 🤡 I don't get it but okay, Mouse. I see your effort.

Loved his fit!! Very cool cloak and diamond/star motifs everywhere! His lab and study was also fun to look at.

I quite liked the moments when the queen talked to her husband and tried to smooth things over with him. “I can fix him energy”— Their relationship seemed very genuine at the start of the movie.

NOT THE WISH NEPOTISM...

If they were going for “sympathetic” with Magnifico, it didn’t work. He gave this backstory about how he was traumatized before + left as the only survivor of a great tragedy and so now he wants to use his magic to prevent that from happening to anyone else. Thing is, we only ever know about this via his word and staring at a half-burnt tapestry. We never see the event on screen, nor what was left of the tapestry. I was expecting a twist where it’s revealed that he lied all this time about his backstory and rewrote history so he could more easily manipulate the people of the kingdom he founded and live out the fantasy of being worshipped as a “good guy”. That was such a missed opportunity!!

Something else I was thinking of (this was during “This is the Thanks I get” was??? Maybe Magnifico started off genuinely good but became worn down over time as people’s wishes grew more selfish and they became ungrateful for what they had?? Then he could have become bitter and disillusioned by the behavior of his people.

Another idea is maybe Magnifico was “villainous” only in Asha’s eyes, since they don’t agree on how to best handle granting wishes. This would be more of a clash of ideologies rather than the traditional Obvious Evil vs Obvious Good that Disney is so known for, but hey, it could be a neat evolution of their storytelling from classic fairy tale roots.

This is to say that there were so many more interesting directions they could have gone with Magnifico’s motives, character, and portrayal 😭 but the second half of the movie never commits to any of these, they just blame his complete insanity and turn to the dark side on Forbidden Magic which is such a cop-out.

The trailers gave away the twist that Magnifico was the villain. It wasn’t revealed until like the second song into the movie. Would’ve worked better as an on-the-spot reveal rather than part of the marketing, in my opinion.

When they showed the wishes, the TWST fan in my was shouting, "OMG IT'S WISH UPON A STAR, THE LIMITED TIME STORY EVENT FROM THE HIT DISNEY MOBILE GACHA GAME TWISTED WONDERLAND!!!"

As Wish is Disney's anniversary film for 100 years, there were tooons of easter eggs scattered throughout. (I had fun looking for them!) Some were visual (I saw Aurora's dress, Snow White’s well, Peter's Pan's costume, Ursula's green smokey hands, Asha's robes resembling those of the Fairy Godmother, etc.) or extended imagery/scenes (Asha recreates Mulan's dinner and “Reflection" scenes), others were more overt lines of dialogue (Magnifico says the "Mirror, Mirror" lines along with others, a deer named “Bambi”, Valentino mentions an animal metropolis in reference to Zootopia, etc.).

In theory, the wish magic sounds cool but has so much that isn't explained??? And yeah, it's magic so it technically doesn't have to be. However, there are things not explained even when it is important to the plot. For example, Magnifico crushes some wishes and seems to absorb their power for himself (including the wish of Asha's MOM, so you'd think this would be important)? The consequence of this is that the wish's owners... become sad??? Okay, what are the long-term effects??? Why isn’t this fully explored?? But then later in the film we see the same people whose wishes were crushed... regenerate their wish??? So what, he has to keep reaping them??? And why are the wishes only taken at 18 years old? What if a wish changes? Ironically, the townspeople of Rosas have a scene where they question the technicalities of this wish magic. Magnifico essentially tells them to shut up, and it kinda felt like Disney was telling us to not question their lore www

It was weird that they never fully explored the ramifications of going without your wish. You’d think they’d show us people without ambition or hope (which would incentivize Asha to return their wishes), but everyone seems blissfully happy without their wishes?? The only exception is Asha’s friend that betrays her (cannot for the life of me remember his name), and that’s namely because his asshole friends keep ragging on him for it.

I thought the movie was going to go in a “you can make your own wish come true!!” direction but NOPE, turns out it’s just magic. Felt like Disney unintentionally wrote a whole movie about "wishes not coming true unless some big powerful entity allows it to come true” (Asha literally becomes the fairy godmother of Rosas at the end, making her ultimately no different than Magnifico)… ie a metaphor for how Disney owns so many properties it practically owns our childhoods www

"The power of friendship saves the day" ending 🤣 It was very Paper Mario ending-esque...

A song saving the day though?? It’s giving the Illumination Lorax film…

I was right about the humor. Too "quirky" and/or juvenile for me.

Animation was alright? Nothing awful about it, it just didn't feel as detailed or as experimental as other films with a similar style.

Songs were mid, which checks out with the recent Disney music excluding We Don't Talk About Bruno--

Some of the lyrics however were awful. “I let you live here for free and I don’t even charge you rent” is redundant. “So I throw caution to every warning sign” means you’ll show more caution than usual, not that you’ll forego caution. The correct expression is “throw caution to the wind”. Etc, etc, etc.

There was a cute after credits scene where they reveal that Asha's 100 year old grandpa (same age as Disney omg) wrote the "When You Wish Upon a Star" theme, which was sweet since his wish was "wanting to make a mark".

THE BEST PART OF THE MOVIE WAS STAR!! It was very cute (partly because it couldn't talk and just jingled and giggled, I was dreading another annoying mascot animal voice) and reminds me of my own pet… The way Star infused everything with glitter and formed unique shapes with the red twine was so fun 😭 I'M A STAR STAN, IT WAS ADORABLE AND KINDA BRATTY AND I'M LIVING FOR IT

Decent ideas, "meh" execution. Enchanted and Shrek did it better in terms of self-aware, fairy tale defying stories. It felt as though the movie was trying to deliver a profound message but got lost in the sauce of making as making Disney references possible and didn't fully commit to actually saying something meaningful. As a result, the film feels somewhat… hollow.

That one friend betraying Asha was the biggest surprise in the film but I still saw it coming 😂 I do get where he’s coming from though (being worried that his wish won’t ever come true) but it also felt like his conflict wasn’t resolved??? It might have gone better if the movie actually fully tried to push the “you can make your own wish come true” message (to reinvigorate the traitor to make his dreams a reality on his own) but they don’t 💦

Wish didn’t end up being “the wishing star’s origin story” because not once did anyone question where Star came from or why it was different from other stars (or what the significance of Magnifico blotting out the other stars was).

I think the people that would enjoy this movie are the people that are already highly invested in Disney and the nostalgia of it.

... Anyway, stan Star 🤩 (and the talking mushrooms 🍄)

[zincbot]

Hi you guys. @ragsy @entropyking

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

youtube to mp3. drinking from a hummingbird feeder. having 3 younger siblings.

show us a picture of your handwriting?

3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

this is impossible for me. movies i've seen the most times overall? Jumanji Welcome to the Jungle. Sing. Phineas and Ferb Star Wars.

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

treating a hay bale as a model of car.

the shape of dive.

anything said in dewlap's voice

what made you start your blog?

my wife. for the longest time i refused to make an account and just scrolled tags from the mobile browser.

what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

my friends and cool stuff is here! sometimes people say mean things.

what scares you the most and why?

leeches. they're slime and they want to be on you.

any reacquiring dreams?

i dunno abt re-acquiring, but as for re-occurring, i mostly dream abt the apocalypse. Or abt doing my morning routine and getting ready for work, then going to work, then working.

tell a story about your childhood

you gotta prompt me with a connecting scenario first. the first time i got my hair cut short at like age 6 my mom gave me a bowl cut.

would you say you’re an emotional person?

yeah..... too much sometimes

what do you consider to be romance?

laughing and having fun. also doing butch stuff >:]

what’s some good advice you want to share?

you are never truly as trapped as you feel.

what are you doing right now?

sittin' in bed writing these damn answers.

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

get a piercing. i don't think it's ever gonna happen. also bleach my hair but that's more likely to eventually happen.

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

where my wife and my cat live.

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

taller and beefier.

name 3 things that make you happy

playing ttrpgs (with friends!)

karaoke (with friends!)

eating food (with friends!)

do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

ghosts nah even though i thought i saw one once. aliens yes but in a boring far-off way.

favourite thing about the day?

tha sun. tha sun!

favourite things about the night?

sleeping in my bed.

are you a spiritual person?

no. look okay i'm religious but not for spirituality reasons.

say 3 things about someone you love

soft of fur

small of feet

loud of meow

say 3 things about someone you hate

(manifesting) easily killed. within line of sight to be killed. in a position to be killed without repurcussion to the killer.

what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

my ability to get things done.

fave season and why?

fall. temperature is good to me.

fave colour and why?

pinkredorangeyellow. i like warm colours.

any nicknames?

nick.

do you collect anything?

not anymore but i used to have a "rust collection"

what do you do when you’re sad?

sing songs outside.

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

having friends time with friends.

are you messy or organised?

messy... my piles....

how many tabs do you have open right now?

more than 100.

any hobbies?

writing....drawing....embroidery....video games.....playing ttrpgs.... exercise....

any pet peeves?

getting assumed at.

do you trust easily?

kind of. i think too much.

are you an open book or do you have walls up?

there's a wall behind an edited book that has another differently edited book behind it that has another wall-

share a secret

i hit my sister's car in our mom's driveway on her birthday. (she didn't notice)

fave song at the moment?

no time to explain by good kid? ask me again in 5 minutes you'll get a new one.

youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

I would say Jacob Geller but Ragsy already said Jacob Geller. OOO actually there's this youtube account called Stainedge who's always posting art of their slasher OCs and I've become obsessed with them.

any bad habits?

chewing my mouth. picking at my skin. not brushing my teeth in the morning. stealing. switching between past and present tense when writing-

dhdghdhd hope you enjoy you freaks.

[rhapsodynew]

#memorial day

On this day in 1980, an attempt was made on John Lennon's life. After 25 minutes, he died due to heavy blood loss. RIP

It is a pity that such a great Romantic of music, John Lennon, has left our world. The singer of peace got bullets. The murderer Mark Chapman himself, when he was arrested after the murder, said that if he had not managed to kill John, he would have killed David Bowie, who was on tour in America at the time. In general, the killer is a complete psychopath and a moral freak. Bright memory to John. Thank him for the thrill of the soul. His songs are imbued with bright positive energy, which is so lacking in our imperfect world, where negativity is more than joy. 🙏🙏🙏🙏🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Where were you when John Lennon was killed?

"I was in my third year of college in San Francisco, a moody punk lying on the bed in my room at my parents' house and listening to Devo. My sworn enemy, my mother, came in to me with an ashen face. I asked sarcastically: “Who's dead now?”When she answered, my face reflected her expression. This news silenced me" – VA

"I was in high school at Curtis High School on Staten Island. My friends and I were big fans of the Beatles, and John Lennon in particular. The morning after the pledge of allegiance to the school, one of my friends went into the sound reinforcement room and asked for a minute of silence in memory of Lennon. The school administration punished him for the unauthorized announcement. That Saturday, a group of my friends went to a longer minute of silence in central park. I remember it was very cold. We fervently hoped that as a result of his senseless death, appropriate gun control laws would be passed. It would be a fitting tribute. Ah, the youthful idealism inspired by Lennon and never faded to the end" – Alison W. Reed

"I heard gunshots for the first time in my life. They didn't sound like they were on TV at all. Bang, bang, bang. My parents and I looked down at the chaos unfolding on West 72nd Street, 22 floors below and east of our terrace. It was the first time I saw my parents crying at the same time" – Dinny

"I was in my college dorm room watching Monday Night Football with a group of other freshmen from the Midwest. I remember Howard Cosell's voice breaking when he broke the news. After that, everyone poured out into the corridors, and The Beatles' songs could be heard through the crying" – Nuel

"I remember the expression on my father's face and his changed voice; he seemed meek, defeated, as if the pallor of his face had spread to his entire being. At that moment, I realized that even a person who worked on the creation of missile guidance systems can be shocked and depressed by the death of a man whose demise was the last blow that turned the course of events towards good"

– Eric

"We learned about John's death from the then communist Czechoslovakia on Radio Luxembourg. I was 9 years old, and I remember how sad my parents were, especially my mom. Soon after, students began painting an image of John Lennon and his call for peace on one of the walls in Prague's old town. The authorities didn't like it and painted over the “Lennon Wall,” as everyone called it. It was always restored within a few hours" – Andrea

I just walked a friend to her house on West 72nd Street,

about 100 meters from Dakota. As I was leaving her entrance, I heard a sound like a car exhaust, and a few seconds later I heard people screaming and saw that they were coming from Dakota. I, like many others, went towards Central Park, and almost immediately sirens started wailing from all sides.

At that moment, I couldn't get close enough to understand what had happened. I went home and turned on the TV to listen to the news. Like the day J. F. Kennedy was shot, or the day M. L. King was assassinated, or the day R. F. Kennedy was assassinated, that evening is etched into my memory. I remember the girl's name, the place where we had dinner, the weather—everything that happened that evening. The sound I heard must have been a gunshot"

– David