#restaurant reconciliation

[seosaniya]

Reasons to avoid manual reconciliation

its extremely time consuming

[hideyseek]

what. ? !

[inrainprose]

He texts her "I'm busy these days" and it feels huge already. A tiny step but it's still a victory, before she insists again and talks about his "responsability", and obviously he's buying himself peace of mind by transferring the money to her, but we could see he felt bad about it. Maybe he's disappointed in himself, that he can't seem to get free of her, to tell her no. Confident he will get there though, and it's clear King is helping, by making it so obvious and easy that uea can and should set up boundaries, can and should be comfortable and happy and get what he wants. Can't wait.

I wonder if Uea still feels guilty about never going home, about not being a "good son" despite his parents being the ones to abuse him and fail him so completely. When he asks if King has issues with his family, maybe a part of him hopes that they are sort of the same, so that he could confide in King too. It must be both validating and confusing for him that King doesn't want to go home either, but for much less terrible, much more mundane reasons than he does. That King can openly say "I don't like it there, it makes me feel bad, so I simply don't go". What a revolutionary concept for an abused kid guilt-tripped into thinking he's the unreasonable, ungrateful one.

[lovexdeepspace]

“life without you.”

summary; months after breaking up with them, they come for reconciliation.

warnings; heartbreak, break-ups

note; wowowow the first part to this blew up and i am so beyond thankful for all the love! after this comes more requests :D

!! divider by @cafekitsune !!

first part | angst ending

“we should probably see other people.”

༊*·˚. xavier

it had been a couple of months since you broke things off with xavier and the way his face had contorted into one of subtle shock made you feel, well, better about things. although it had pained you to say the words, knowing that he was instantly hit with something — be it guilt, regret, sadness, whatever — made you feel better knowing it meant he still cared enough about you.

though the months of silence that followed had you second guessing that notion, no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself it was normal for this to happen and that you should take advantage of this time. you would never admit to anyone the many nights you would spend on your couch, waiting around late at night hoping that knock would come on your door and your sleepy hunter would be on the other side.

perhaps you ended up manifesting it one too many times, however, because now you stand pj-clad in your doorway with one hand on your hip and a raised brow as xavier held out a round, marshmallow-looking stuffed bunny to you.

“what’s this?” you deadpanned, knowing exactly what he was doing — you just wanted to hear him say it.

xavier’s lips pressed into a tight line as he avoided your eyes and muttered, “i really screwed up. i didn’t realize how good things were with you until i lost you.”

you stayed silent, motioning for him to continue when he glanced your way.

“i don’t deserve to ask you for forgiveness, let alone should i expect you to take me back,” he said, holding your gaze, “but i’d be even more of a fool not to try. i’m so, so sorry i put you in such a shitty situation.”

xavier pushed the bunny a little closer to you, brightening a bit as you took it into your arms. it was soft and downright adorable, a stuffed reflection of the man in front of you(though, again, something else on the list of things that wouldn’t be admitted by you).

“i don’t expect you to answer me any time soon,” he added quickly, filling the silence, “so i’ll just —“

“xavier.”

the blonde immediately shut his mouth, giving you his rapt attention. with a sigh you look from the bunny to him before extending a hand to him, albeit hesitantly.

“i was in the middle of watching a movie,” you said, earning a confused look. “do you want to finish it with me?”

if your heart wasn’t racing by that point, the way xavier’s face broke out in a grin before he grabbed your hand excitedly and pulled you into your own apartment had it pounding against your rib cage like a drum.

༊*·˚. rafayel

you recieved a torrent of snarky, snappy texts following your brief break-up with rafayel. he switched between gaslighting you that nothing was happening and that you were overreacting to him acting nonchalant about the whole thing; it was so bad that you had to block his number before you even got back to your apartment, which was a few blocks away.

it was weird to not have your phone blowing up all day long but, at the same time, the silence was a sort of reprieve while you dealt with the emotional repercussions of the whole situation. it allowed you some peace of mind and gave you the space needed to cope and, with the months that followed, grow more comfortable with not being in a relationship anymore.

you had finally found yourself at peace once again, keeping yourself busy with things to do like trying out the new restaurant downtown. as you were getting ready to head out, a knock came from your front door.

“just a minute!” you called, adjusting the collar of your blouse in the mirror before heading to the door and opening it. “oh.”

standing in front of you was rafayel and thomas, the latter giving you a sweet smile and a wave.

“nice to see you!” he chirped before giving rafayel a shove on the shoulder and gesturing to you. “i’ll be in the car.”

“good seeing you, too, thomas,” you called as he walked off, then turned to rafayel. “so. it took your manager forcing you for you to come see me?”

rafayel pouted at you and crossed his arms over his chest. “last i checked, you’re the one who blocked my number.”

you barked out a laugh, unsure as to why you’d be surprised about the audacity of this man. “well, maybe it’s because you tried to downplay my feelings!”

“well i’m sorry, okay?” rafayel retorted, matching your raised volume. “there, happy?”

“happy?” you echoed, running a hand down your face. “rafayel, if you really think —”

“you’re right.”

you froze, biting back the rest of your statement and raising a brow. “i’m right?”

rafayel nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “i fucked up. like truly, undoubtedly fucked up. and here i am, thinking i can just say sorry and fix it all but that’s not how it works. i’ve got this whole front to keep up to protect my stupid ego but. . .” he sniffles and you realize there are tears in his eyes but he continues before you can speak up.

“fuck my ego,” he spat, clearly more angry at himself with every word he spoke. “my life has been complete and utter shit without you in it. i thought i knew what i was doing but i was wrong and i can’t even begin to express how sorry i am. i don’t deserve forgiveness or anything from you but gods you deserved an apology and i hope this is at least somewhat sufficient.”

rafayel sniffled again, the tip of his nose reddening as he wiped at his eyes. you were shocked to say the least, rooted to the spot as you watched the man you always thought to be so invulnerable breaking down in front of you.

slowly you reached out and your hands pulled his away from his face. he looked at you with wide, teary eyes as your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing the few remaining tears away. he whispered your name and you sighed, feeling all the hardened feelings towards the artist and your breakup softening to mush.

“i’ve missed you,” he whispered, leaning into your touch, and everything gets thrown out the window as you press a quick kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, then the corner of his lips.

“i missed you too,” you said quietly. “come inside — i’ll tell thomas that i’ll drive you home later.”

༊*·˚. zayne

his coldness towards you was to be expected but still stung more than you could’ve expected. what made the break-up even worse was that you had to do it at the hospital and she was present for it all. you had tripped over your words and felt like a fool but knew, deep down, it needed to be done to prevent you from spending another sleepless night.

you had accounted for the way you’d feel when you’d find his clothes in your laundry; you’d accounted for the way your heart would surge whenever the rare occurrence came that you’d see him out and about in linkon city; everything was thought out and prepared for to avoid feeling too harshly.

what you had failed to account for, however, was how you’d feel when you came home one day to find zayne sitting on your couch with at least ten different bouquets of flowers surrounding him.

first it was shock — you quite literally dropped all your belongings. zayne raised an eyebrow at your reaction as if it wasn’t incredibly surprising to see him sitting in your apartment after having months of no contact.

second it was realization — you hadn’t taken your spare key back. as soon as it hit you your shock wore off and you groaned, running a hand down your face. after a long day at work this was the last thing you were expecting and needed.

last came the indifference. you gestured to him, then to the door. zayne stood slowly and walked around the bouquets, heading for the door. you were surprised up until he shut the door and headed back to his original spot on the couch.

“zayne,” you deadpanned. “that was a sign for you to leave.”

“do you really want me to leave?” the doctor asked, his steely gaze sending shivers down your spine.

no. “why are you even here?” you asked, defeated, purposely avoiding the question. “months of not talking and you suddenly appear in my apartment? what gives?”

“i need to apologize,” zayne replied bluntly, gesturing to the plethora of flowers surrounding him. “did the flowers not make that obvious? are they not enough? should i have gotten more?”

he looked somewhat distraught as he looked around him and you shook your head with a sigh to cover up the way the corners of your mouth twitched. you’d hardly seen zayne so stressed let alone stressed over flowers and if they were enough for you.

“zayne, the flowers are lovely,” you assured him. “more than i know what to do with, though.”

zayne nodded slowly, a bit more at ease. he stood once more and walked over to you, stopping right in front of you. he took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye, though you noted the way his eyes flitted down to your lips for a split second.

“what i did, how i treated you, all of it was unacceptable,” he said softly and you couldn’t help but already feel him worming his way through your walls. “i don’t know what i was thinking — or if i was even thinking at all. you are the most caring, respectful, and loving partner anyone could ever ask for. i was so lucky to have you by my side and i foolishly messed everything up.”

you wanted to reach out and wrap your arms around him, truly, but he still looked as if he had more to say so you held yourself back for a moment longer.

“you are everything to me,” he said, “and i will do whatever i need to do to regain your trust, your love, everything. however long it takes — days, months, years, nothing else matters to me more than you.”

you were in awe of the man standing before you, so moved by his words and actions that you couldn’t help but wind your arms around him and pull him close to you. you could feel him relax in your embrace, something that nobody else could do no matter what. with your cheek pressed to his chest, you smiled to yourself as you felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head and his arms wrap tightly around you.

“since i went a little overboard with the flowers,” he mumbled, “do you think we should take them down to the hospital and give them out to the patients?”

there he was. your zayne. sweet, compassionate, loving zayne.

taglist; @chim-i @reialbert @circusclownsam @yegrnn @kreishin @xmikanx @frobin4ever @keitthen <3 & all the anons that requested this!

[thesunloveschips]

Obsessed - Part 10 - Epilogue (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: A decade, a wedding, and two kids later, Azriel is still obsessed.

Warnings: Fluff.

Word count: 1.4k

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

A decade later

“This spot, right here, was where I spoke to your mama for the first time.” Azriel declared after stopping at some random part of the airport with their twins in his arms. 

What? 

“Ohh.” The children cooed with far too much energy for early morning travel. Their father seemed rather proud of their reaction. 

Y/n suspected something was off when her husband proposed a trip the week before to the country where she’d studied for her exchange program but what the actual fuck was this?

All of it started when their kids asked him about how he’d met their mother. 

As a matter of fact, she really did not remember why she agreed to this trip but Azriel had somehow seduced her into saying yes and the next thing she knew, the family had reached the airport.

Y/n remained somewhere between embarrassment and mortification as he continued to narrate to his children the story of how hopelessly he’d fallen in love with their mother while skipping the inappropriate parts of his thoughts. 

She sighed.

Maybe, she could take a breather and visit the university, meet her professors and a few friends. 

She followed Azriel into a restaurant where as soon as they entered, a few men stood up from a table and made way for the family to sit. 

“This is where I had my first meal with your mama. I was sitting on this very chair and for some reason, your mama is not sitting on the same chair she was all those years ago.” And she simply smiled before deciding their food because her family were engrossed in their own world to read the menu.

All those years ago, huh? 

Time had flown by so soon and somehow so slowly. 

And a thirty-nine year old Azriel certainly looked fine. So damn fine carrying the kids with the sleeves of his black shirt folded up to the forearms and revealing his tattoos. Y/n was half tempted to drag him to the nearest restroom and kneel for him. 

The meal was a light one. She watched them quietly while Azriel narrated the legendary romance of their mama and papa to their children. 

“Mama.” The little boy, Aether, called. “When did you fall in love with papa?”

“In an apartment.” She smiled at the memories from their apartments and let them take her back in time.

When Azriel confessed how he’d arranged for them to meet by finding out her travel information, she was simply surprised. 

But then he revealed how he’d bought an entire building and arranged for them to be neighbours just so he could have an excuse to see her and talk to her. 

Her husband smiled knowingly at her as he continued to coddle and feed their children. 

And then came the time to board the flight. 

Outside the aircraft, Azriel stood with their kids as he commanded their attention. “Now, this is the plane in which I sat next to your mama for the first time. It was our first time travelling together.”

Y/n sighed. Who gave this man so much money anyway? Because he’d tracked down that particular aircraft and bought it ten years ago. It had been revamped into a private jet for the family. 

They boarded the plane and Y/n had absolutely nothing to do. The only thing she had to do was order food for them all at that restaurant earlier. Azriel had taken care of everything else. 

The plane was divided into three parts; the cockpit for the pilots, the area for the cabin crew and the bodyguards, and the area for the family, with the latter separated by doors. 

Their baby girl, Nora, was now yawning. Soon enough, Aether yawned and Y/n led them to the large bed where she tucked them and closed the window. Once they’d fallen asleep, she returned to her husband and settled on his lap. 

“Sleep, Y/n.” His hand cradled her body gently and firmly. And as she drifted away to sleep, she recalled how life had continued after their reconciliation.

It was a mess and they wanted it. They wanted to navigate it. She'd taken her time to confess her feelings about her past and so had he. And for the first time, they were raw and broken in each other's arms.

She snuggled against him, inhaling his scent. This was her husband. The father of her children. A man so devoted to her and intent on treating her right and she wondered if she was ever doing enough for him.

And just when she thought she could cry from it all, her husband pressed a kiss to her forehead and began humming a tune.

**** 

Azriel was a composed person. Always taking time to enjoy everything. Never in a hurry because he always planned everything like that. 

He’d taken Y/n out on dates where they could simply enjoy the food and the place without having to rush anything at all. 

When they were married, he was over the moon. Obviously.

The billion-dollar empire did not run on its own but he was far too eager to go home to Y/n.

After a long period of an obsession bordering on unhealthy, she was finally his wife. And they had two children. Aether had his black curly hair and smile while Nora had his eyes but the rest of them were all his sweet wife. 

Wife. 

Azriel looked at the building as the car neared it. When it stopped, he gently woke up his wife and the family was in the apartment she lived in. 

“This was mama’s apartment.”

“What’s an apartment?” Azriel proceeded to explain the word by giving the twins a tour of the place. 

****

Dinner was yet another affair as Azriel took it upon himself to tour the city, taking them to every single place they’d ever been to. “This is where we did our grocery shopping.”

“So this is how I can get a girlfriend.” The little boy mused. 

“Maybe.” The father grinned. Their son mirrored his expression and their daughter was now curious. 

“Mama.” Nora looked up at Y/n. “If I want to marry someone, will I have to wait for a boy to do all this for me?”

Azriel froze. 

His little girl? 

Marrying? 

Marrying?

What a horrifying thought. 

He immediately took out his phone and texted his assistant to increase the security around his daughter lest some random lizard abduct her from him. 

“Well. .” Y/n began. “Maybe you’ll meet someone who does something else but which would make you feel special.” My god, what was his wife saying? There was no need for their daughter to meet anyone like that. 

“But papa makes me feel special. So why would I meet someone else?” Bless his daughter, such a lovely soul. 

“Of course, my little sweet.” Yes. Papa was all that his little girl needed. There was no need for any snakes to slither into her life. 

****

A few weeks later

It was a normal day and a normal lunch. Azriel and Y/n held a child each and walked over to the table where Nesta was waiting with Cassian. 

A few years ago, when the ladies had discovered that their partners were old childhood friends, it was decided that there was no reason why they couldn’t dine together every now and then. 

Nesta and Cassian had recently gotten married in a hurry. One random morning, Y/n had been video called to be told that they were going somewhere and the courthouse was on the way, so they decided to marry. Needless to say, Y/n screamed at her friend before congratulating her. 

Conversation floated around the table. The children were coddled. Food was passed around and laughter erupted. 

“Cassian!” A voice yelled. 

The man looked up to see another one of his friends and smiled broadly. He raised a hand in greeting. “Rhys!”

Nesta looked up and saw her brother-in-law holding her nephew, Nyx’s hand while Feyre was busy looking at the pastries a few steps away from them. Once Rhys walked over to his wife and she’d also seen them, it was automatically decided that they’d be dining together. 

More seats were added and adults were catching up. Meanwhile, the twins looked at Nyx in fascination primarily because they’d never seen him before. 

Nyx, only a few months older than them at the age of six, reached out for Nora’s cheek. Once he’d ascertained that it was soft, he pulled it hard. 

The girl squealed in pain, tears brimming her eyes. She immediately turned to her brother who was already glaring at the boy. 

Y/n came and began pacifying her daughter while her son stayed close but Azriel was struck at the horror of the situation. 

“Keep your son a mile away from my daughter.” And thus began, Azriel’s paranoia that the reptile who’d steal his precious daughter would be none other than Nyx.

****

Author's Note: Thank you for accompanying me on this journey. Writing Obsessed has been a wonderful experience.

Thank you @findingstephanie @div94 for helping me. They were my beta readers for Obsessed and have helped me immensely.

I hope all of us meet people who will not only be obsessed with us but also be obsessed with treating us right.

P.S. I might write an Azriel x Reader/OC x Eris fic soon.

****

Taglist:

@fantanbietsson @angstylittleb1tch @fhgsvbnh @olive-main @cherryjain17 @halo-mystic @starofanotherworld @latinxbipride @viatorem-maris @acotarbestie @sevikas-whore @anthonys-viscountess @randomgurl2326 @thelov3lybookworm @cat-or-kitten @mortqlprojections @tele86 @rorel1a @red0202 @atomictyphoonkitten @colorfulgardenerduck @scarsandallaz @anonymousdisco @rcarbo1 @workof-a-rr-t @fuckingsimp4azriel @isabella13dusk @donnadiddadog @yannnnooooxoxox-blog @nxgh1 @thedeviltohisangel @katherinebright @fandomtrash5092 @epicsweetness712 @anik-4 @hitsxbikbv @julesvanslutta @fae-dreamer-99 @cartonkid1200 @anainkandpaper @yourwonderbelle @stefbroo @imjustagirl713 @bbykaixx @lilah-asteria @mellowmusings

[zylokv]

A DEAL OF CONVENIENCE — myoui mina

❝ you're my spouse on paper, however you're not my responsibility.❞

synopsis — caught in an arranged marriage with the cold and calculating myoui mina, a reluctant heir must navigate the world of power, family expectations, and a growing attraction that neither of them wanted.

word count ! — 7.06k

—myoui mina x reader !

notice — heavily inspired by @neoplatinum and a bit of queen of tears.

disclaimer ! — this story contains themes of infidelity, toxic family dynamics, and angst balanced with moments of reconciliation and growth. before diving into this story, i want to make it clear that i am not glamorizing toxic relationships, infidelity, or abusive family dynamics. additionally, the portrayal of the idols in this story is entirely fictional and does not reflect their real personalities or lives.

series masterlist !

the restaurant was a masterpiece in itself—a panoramic view of the city below, chandeliers sparkling like stolen starlight, and an air so heavy with exclusivity it almost choked you.

but it was the silence that truly got under your skin.

across the table, myoui mina sat with her hands neatly folded, her mother’s diamond-laden wrist resting lightly on her shoulder. the matriarch’s smile was polite but predatory, a practiced expression honed through decades of social maneuvering. mina’s expression, by contrast, was unreadable, her dark eyes focused on you like she was cataloging your every reaction.

“let’s not waste time,” mrs. myoui began, her voice smooth and precise, cutting through the quiet like a scalpel. “we’re here to propose a mutually beneficial arrangement. mina… needs a spouse of significant standing, someone with the competence to support her position. naturally, we thought of you.”

you blinked, barely suppressing the urge to laugh. “naturally?” you repeated, your tone dipping into disbelief. “with all due respect, mrs. myoui, i’m not interested in being a pawn in your… dynasty plans.”

mina’s gaze flickered, just for a second, but her mother’s smile never faltered. “…i understand your reservations. but this is not merely for us. your family stands to gain considerably as well. surely your father has discussed this with you?”

your stomach twisted at the mention of your father, the inevitable weight of his expectations pressing down like an iron shackle. you forced a thin smile. “what i do, mrs. myoui, is practice law. my involvement in my family’s business is minimal. i prefer to keep it that way.”

mrs. myoui’s smile finally cracked, just enough to reveal a glimmer of impatience. “that’s precisely the issue. you’re squandering your potential. but with mina by your side, you’ll have every opportunity to—”

“no.”

the word left your mouth before you could second-guess it. “with all due respect, mrs. myoui,” you added, trying to rein in your frustration, “i’d prefer to find someone who actually loves me.”

mrs. myoui’s gaze hardened, though her smile remained in place. “love is a luxury, not a necessity, in our world. and frankly, one i’m sure you’ll come to understand.” her voice was clipped now, her patience wearing thin. “but perhaps you need time to reflect on your priorities. this is an opportunity you’d be foolish to waste.”

she stood, adjusting her shawl, the subtle but deliberate shift of power unmistakable. mina rose with her, her expression still unreadable as she followed her mother out of the restaurant. you clenched your fists under the table, the quiet crack of glass snapping you back to the moment. the remnants of your drink scattered across the polished surface, a faint reflection of your anger.

------

the office door slammed shut behind you, the echo ringing in the silence that followed. your father stood in the middle of the room, his posture stiff, jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might crack. he didn’t need to speak—the storm was already brewing in his eyes.

“do you even comprehend what you’ve done?” he started, his voice eerily calm, the kind of calm that preceded an explosion.

you didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze with a defiance that felt more fragile than it looked. “i told you before, i won’t let you decide my life. not this time.”

his hand lashed out before you could process the movement. the slap wasn’t just a physical sting—it was a sharp, brutal reminder of your place in his world.

“you ungrateful child!” his voice rose, cracking like a whip in the heavy air. “everything you have, everything you are, is because of this family. and this is how you repay me? by throwing it all away?”

your head snapped to the side, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth. your first instinct was to clench your fists, to hold your ground. but as his words continued, their weight pressed down harder than any blow could.

“i built this empire from nothing,” he sneered, his finger jabbing in your direction. “and you think you can waltz out, turn your back on it, just because you’re playing at being a lawyer?”

“it’s not playing,” you shot back, your voice rough and shaking. “it’s my life. my choice.”

another strike—this time a fist to your shoulder, sending you stumbling back against the desk. pain flared, sharp and unrelenting, but you didn’t let him see the tears threatening to spill over.

“you don’t have a choice,” he hissed. “not as long as you carry my name. you will marry myoui mina, and you will do it without complaint. or else—”

“or else what?” you interrupted, your voice rising despite yourself. “you’ll ruin me? take away everything I’ve worked for? you’ve already done that.”

his laughter was cold, bitter. “ruin you? you’ve done that to yourself. now get out of my sight before i do something i regret.”

you didn’t wait for him to change his mind. you left the room, your steps shaky but purposeful. as soon as the door closed behind you, you leaned against the wall, breathing hard. your shoulder ached, your cheek throbbed, but the worst pain was the helplessness clawing at your chest.

------

the next day started like any other, except it wasn’t. you swiped your card at the entrance of the office, and the machine beeped red. again, you tried, frowning as you wiped it against your pant leg and swiped once more. red.

“uh, excuse me?” you called to the receptionist. her name was mei—someone you usually exchanged pleasantries with on your way in. she looked up, startled, then glanced nervously at her computer.

“i… i’m sorry,” she stammered, “but it seems your access has been revoked.”

“revoked?” your voice sharpened. “that’s a mistake. i'm the head director.”

she swallowed hard, nodding as if to agree but not daring to meet your eyes. “you’ll have to check with mr. (Ln).”

an hour later, after what felt like an eternity of waiting outside the hr manager’s office, you finally got your answer. or rather, the lack of one. “your credentials have been deactivated. i’m not authorized to provide further details,” the manager said, her tone clipped and impersonal.

“you’re not authorized? this is my job. my office. i deserve an explanation,” you pressed, your frustration bubbling over.

her expression didn’t waver. “you’ll have to speak with your father about this.”

those words were the final confirmation. you left the building, the weight of it all crashing down on you. your office, your cases, your colleagues—it was all gone, just like that. erased. your father’s hand was all over this, a calculated move to corner you.

as you stepped onto the street, the world felt louder than usual. the sounds of traffic and chatter blurred together, a stark contrast to the silence that had taken over your life. with nowhere else to go, you headed for the batting cages. you needed to hit something, anything, just to feel in control again.

-----

baseball had always been your escape. the rhythmic crack of the bat against the ball, the familiar burn in your muscles, the steady stream of pitches from the machine—all of it helped drown out the noise in your head.

you were mid-swing when she appeared. mina, in a tailored coat and heels, looking absurdly out of place against the dusty field and worn equipment. she was a sharp contrast to the sweat and grime clinging to you, her pristine presence a reminder of the gulf between your worlds.

“you missed,” she remarked coldly, her voice slicing through the air as you struck the next pitch. the ball ricocheted off the cage, and you turned to her, your expression dark.

“what do you want?” your tone was sharp, the frustration of the last few days spilling over.

mina didn’t flinch. her gaze was steady, assessing, as if calculating how much effort this conversation was worth. “to end this childish act of defiance,” she said bluntly. “sign the contract. stop wasting everyone’s time.”

you gritted your teeth, gripping the bat tighter. “is that how you talk to everyone you’re trying to convince to marry you?”

“only the ones who are being stubborn.” her reply was smooth, but there was a flicker of irritation in her eyes. “you’re not the only one with things to lose here. do you think i want to be stuck with someone so… obstinate?”

“then why me?” you asked, your voice rising. “there are better options. people who’d jump at the chance to be your spouse. why drag me into this?”

she stepped closer, her heels sinking slightly into the dirt. “because you’re not entirely useless,” she said, her tone icy. “and unlike the others, you’re not a liability. that’s all that matters.”

her words hit harder than they should have, and you swung at the next pitch with more force than necessary. the ball flew into the net, the impact reverberating up your arms. “well, forgive me if i don’t find that flattering.”

mina sighed, brushing an invisible speck of dust from her coat. “you’re impossible.” she turned to leave, her voice carrying over her shoulder. “but mark my words—you’ll come around. whether you like it or not.”

you watched her walk away, the tension in your chest coiling tighter. the bat slipped from your hands, clattering to the ground. as the machine wound up for another pitch, you stood there, frozen, the weight of her words pressing down like a stone.

-----

the ballroom shimmered with opulence, the soft hum of conversation weaving through the air as glasses clinked and laughter punctuated the atmosphere. this wasn’t just any gathering—it was a display of power, a convergence of families whose names carried weight in every corner of the country.

you kept to the periphery, your discomfort masked by a neutral expression. you were here as a formality, the dutiful pawn in a game much larger than yourself. yet, despite your efforts to blend into the wallpaper, your eyes were drawn to the center of the room.

there she was.

myoui mina, the woman you were being forced to marry. she stood effortlessly poised, the epitome of control. her black dress was understated yet breathtaking, paired with diamonds that seemed to reflect her icy demeanor.

what caught your attention wasn’t just her—it was the man beside her. bambam. you recognized him instantly: the charismatic heir to an entertainment conglomerate. his easy laughter grated on your nerves as he leaned in, speaking to mina with a familiarity that felt out of place. she tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint, polite smile.

your grip tightened around your champagne glass. it wasn’t jealousy—no, that would imply you cared. this was something else, an irritation that churned in your chest.

her words from before replayed in your mind: “but mark my words—you’ll come around. whether you like it or not.”

a bitter taste filled your mouth, but you couldn’t deny it—she’d been right.

before you knew it, you were crossing the room.

mina’s gaze flicked toward you as you approached, her expression calm but her body tensing ever so slightly. bambam noticed you too, his smile broadening as if he’d just been let in on a joke.

“and here comes the mystery partner,” bambam quipped, his tone light but edged with curiosity. “mina, you didn’t tell me your companion was here tonight.”

mina’s lips parted to respond, but you cut in. “a private matter,” you said, your voice steady. “can i talk to my fiancé?”

bambam raised an eyebrow but stepped back with a shrug. “i’ll leave you two to it. always a pleasure, mina.”

as soon as he walked away, you turned to her, your voice dropping. “care to explain what that was about?”

mina’s eyes narrowed slightly, her voice as sharp as the diamonds she wore. “i don’t owe you an explanation.”

“don’t you?” you countered, struggling to keep your tone even. “we’re here to sign a contract, and you’re out there chatting up—”

“a family friend,” she interjected, her tone cold. “you’re making a scene over nothing.”

your jaw clenched. “this isn’t nothing. do you even care how this looks?”

she stepped closer, her voice low but laced with condescension. “looks? you’re worried about appearances now?” her lips curled into a faint smirk. “you’ve finally caught up, haven’t you? maybe you’re not as stubborn as you pretend to be.”

the words were a knife twisting in your chest because, deep down, you knew she was right. every choice had led you here, and no matter how much you hated it, there was no turning back.

you exhaled sharply, reining in your frustration. “fine. where’s the damn thing?”

mina’s smirk didn’t falter as she produced the document from her bag, her movements deliberate, almost taunting. she held it out to you, her hand steady.

“go ahead,” she said, her tone detached but cutting. “sign it. make it official. i told you—you’d come around.”

the pen felt heavy as you signed, the weight of each stroke pressing into your chest like a stone.

“congratulations,” you said bitterly. “we’re officially partners in misery.”

mina took the paper back, her eyes scanning it briefly before folding it and tucking it away. she didn’t say a word, her expression unreadable as she turned on her heel and rejoined the crowd.

you stayed behind, the noise of the party fading into the background as you stared after her. you hated the smug satisfaction she wore like another piece of jewelry. but most of all, you hated that she was right.

-----

the ceremony was as grand as you’d expected—ornate floral arrangements lined the aisle, the scent of white lilies suffocating in its sweetness. the pews were filled with people who barely mattered to you, their expressions either bored or falsely polite.

your palms felt clammy despite the coolness of the cathedral. you hated this—every moment, every forced smile, every expectation weighing down on your shoulders.

your father’s voice was low but firm as he leaned in close, his hand gripping your shoulder.

“this is your chance to redeem yourself,” he said, his tone laced with authority. “play your part, and you’ll have your title—and your life—back.”

you nodded stiffly, your jaw tightening as his words sank in. his grip lingered, a silent warning. you hated the weight of his expectations, but you hated the sense of inevitability even more.

as he walked away to join a group of other high-profile guests, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. mina stood near the entrance, her gaze fixed on you, her expression unreadable but sharp, as if she’d overheard every word.

you turned away quickly, adjusting your cuffs in an attempt to ignore the way her presence made your skin prickle.

the ceremony began soon after, the sound of traditional music filling the hall as family elders stepped forward, placing ceremonial heirloom decorations on you. the intricate gold and jade pieces felt heavy, their symbolism not lost on you. it was a visual reminder of what this marriage meant—a merging of legacies, not lives.

as the officiant called for silence, your eyes scanned the crowd. mina’s family sat in the front row, their posture mirroring her composed elegance. her father gave you a curt nod, while her mother’s smile was thin and calculating.

your own family wasn’t much better. your father was in his element, mingling with the likes of minatozaki sana, who greeted him with a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. hirai momo and park jihyo exchanged pleasantries with the other guests, while nayeon and chaeyoung seemed more interested in observing the dynamics than participating. bambam, of course, was here too, his charm drawing smiles from every corner of the room—except yours.

the music shifted, signaling mina’s entrance.

when she appeared at the end of the aisle, the room fell silent. she was a vision, her gown shimmering with delicate embroidery that caught the light. diamonds adorned her neck, wrists, and ears, each piece selected to showcase her status.

your chest tightened as she approached, her steps deliberate and her face a mask of calm detachment. she looked straight ahead, her expression betraying nothing, but you couldn’t help feeling like every step she took was a silent victory over you.

the ceremony continued, each word from the officiant feeling heavier than the last.

“do you, myoui mina, take—”

“i do,” she said, cutting him off before he could even finish. her tone was clipped, almost impatient, as if this were just another business transaction.

your turn came, and you hesitated, the weight of her gaze pressing down on you.

“i do,” you finally said, the words bitter on your tongue.

when it came time for the rings, her fingers were steady as she slid the band onto yours. your hands, in contrast, felt awkward, trembling slightly as you returned the gesture.

“you may kiss the bride,” the officiant declared.

you turned to her, your heart thudding in your chest. her gaze was steady, cold, and challenging.

the kiss was supposed to be brief, for show, but the moment your lips met hers, something shifted. her lips were soft but unyielding, her lack of response initially infuriating. but then you felt it—an undercurrent of something neither of you could name.

for a split second, the world around you disappeared. her perfume was intoxicating, her proximity overwhelming. it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t nothing, either. when you pulled back, her eyes met yours with a flicker of something—frustration? curiosity?

“well,” she murmured under her breath, her voice cold but tinged with irony, “that was unexpected.”

the applause snapped you back to reality, and you turned away quickly, your face hot with a mixture of embarrassment and something else you refused to acknowledge.

as you walked back down the aisle together, her hand resting lightly on your arm, she leaned in just enough for only you to hear.

“i told you,” she whispered, her tone smug, “you’d come around soon enough.”

you glanced at her, irritation and something close to admiration warring in your chest. she was right, and she knew it.

-----

the reception was held in a venue that oozed luxury—high ceilings adorned with intricate chandeliers, marble floors reflecting the soft glow of golden lights, and floral arrangements so extravagant they looked like they belonged in a museum. the murmurs of the guests filled the air, their chatter laced with curiosity and speculation.

“so that’s the myoui’s new pawn,” someone whispered.

“a lawyer, huh? they’re probably hoping to use them to navigate out of future messes,” another added.

you ignored the gossip as best as you could, drifting toward the group of bachelors huddled near the bar. the champagne flowed freely, and the conversation veered into lighthearted banter. for a while, you felt like yourself again, laughing and joking without the weight of mina’s presence looming over you.

mina, however, was always watching. from her seat near the head table, she observed you with a mix of irritation and something else she couldn’t quite name. eventually, she stood, her movements precise and deliberate, and made her way across the room.

“enough,” she said, her voice low but commanding as she reached your side. “you’ve had your fun. come with me.”

you raised an eyebrow, the corners of your lips tugging into a faint smirk. “yes, dear?”

her glare could have frozen fire.

without waiting for your response, she grabbed your wrist—not hard, but firmly enough to make it clear she wasn’t in the mood to argue—and led you to a round table where her friends were seated.

“everyone,” she began, her voice cool and composed as ever, “meet my spouse.”

hirai momo was the first to speak, her grin wide and mischievous. “so, you’re the lucky one. or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.” she laughed, the sound light and teasing.

“i’ll take it as a compliment,” you replied, matching her tone.

bambam leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable but his words sharp. “you know, not everyone would be brave enough to marry into the myoui family. some might call it reckless.”

you shrugged, unbothered. “or smart, depending on how you look at it.”

mina’s lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze darting briefly to bambam before settling back on you. she didn’t intervene, but her posture was tense.

minatozaki sana, on the other hand, said nothing. she sipped her drink, her eyes flicking between you and mina with a look that bordered on disdain. you could feel her silent judgment—it was almost palpable.

momo, however, was surprisingly easygoing. she asked about your work, cracked a few jokes, and seemed genuinely amused by your answers. you found yourself relaxing slightly, even enjoying the conversation.

the conversation flowed, and you found yourself surprisingly at ease with momo. she laughed at your jokes, and when she gestured too animatedly, her bracelet caught on the edge of her glass, nearly toppling it over.

“careful,” you said gently, reaching to steady her drink before any champagne spilled. you untangled her bracelet with a deftness that surprised even yourself.

“thanks,” momo said, her cheeks pink as she glanced up at you.

“no problem.” you gave her a soft smile, your fingers brushing hers briefly as you handed the bracelet back.

a little while later, momo excused herself to retrieve something from her bag but returned moments later, clutching her heel awkwardly.

“what’s wrong?” you asked.

“the strap broke,” she said, holding the elegant shoe aloft.

without hesitation, you bent down, taking the shoe from her hand. “let me see.”

“you don’t have to—” she started, but you were already examining the strap.

“got it,” you said after a moment, slipping the shoe back onto her foot and fastening the strap securely.

“wow,” momo laughed, clearly charmed. “if this whole lawyer thing doesn’t work out, you’ve got a career in shoe repair.”

“i’ll keep that in mind,” you replied with a grin.

from across the table, mina’s gaze hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line.

sana, meanwhile, looked on with a furrowed brow, her eyes narrowing slightly at the interaction. it wasn’t jealousy, exactly—it was more like disdain, as if she found the display of chivalry misplaced.

“you’re good with your hands,” momo teased, her smile wide.

before you could respond, mina’s voice cut through the air like ice. “they're also good at keeping to themselves.”

the tension was palpable, and momo quickly shifted her focus back to her drink. mina’s pointed heel pressed lightly against momo’s foot beneath the table—not enough to hurt, but enough to send a clear message.

“everything okay?” you asked, glancing at mina.

“perfectly fine,” she replied smoothly, her expression unreadable.

the rest of the evening passed in a blur of pleasantries and forced smiles. though you tried to ignore the brewing storm in mina’s eyes

-----

the small town was breathtaking, its charm steeped in tradition and elegance. nestled in the foothills of japan, it was the pride of the myoui clan—a place where time seemed to slow, and every corner spoke of history. the streets were lined with quaint wooden houses, their rooftops adorned with snow from the crisp winter air, and the distant chime of temple bells echoed softly.

you walked beside mina, her cold demeanor wrapped in an aura of regal elegance. she wore a black velvet dress that seemed to ripple with every step, her jewelry—a bracelet, earrings, and a ring—sparkling faintly under the town's lantern light. her look was polished and calculated, every detail deliberate.

you, on the other hand, wore a black turtleneck paired with tailored trousers and a sleek belt. the coat draped over your arm was more for appearances than comfort, and the watch on your wrist—a gift from her family—matched the sheen of her jewelry.

“this place,” you murmured, taking in the view of the traditional ryokan where you were staying, “it’s almost unreal.”

mina spared you a glance, her expression unreadable. “it’s home.”

she didn’t elaborate, instead gesturing for you to follow her to the town's most esteemed restaurant. it was nestled behind an ornate gate, its walls entwined with creeping ivy and lush greenery. stepping inside felt like entering another world—everywhere you looked, there were plants of every shade, their vibrant colors offset by the warm wood and soft lighting.

“this is impressive,” you admitted, though the compliment wasn’t directed at her.

mina simply nodded, selecting a table near a cascading indoor waterfall. as she sat down, she adjusted the hem of her dress, a practiced elegance in every motion.

“take my picture,” she said suddenly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“seriously?” you groaned, though a grin tugged at your lips. “here? now? you know how awkward it’s going to look with you posing in front of all these plants?”

she raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp. “do it.”

you sighed, pulling out your phone. “alright, fine. but don’t blame me if you look weird.”

she posed, her face tilted slightly to catch the light just right. “stop talking and focus.”

“focus? you look like you’re trying to win a staring contest with that fern,” you teased, snapping the picture anyway.

she didn’t respond, though the faintest twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement.

dinner passed without incident, the food as exquisite as the setting. you traded only minimal conversation, the tension between you both ever-present.

when you finally returned to the ryokan, the air was colder, and mina pulled your coat tighter around her shoulders.

“you’re keeping that, huh?” you quipped.

“it’s warm,” she replied simply, shrugging it off at the doorway.

“you go on ahead,” you said, hesitating at the entrance. “i’m going to take a walk.”

she paused, her expression flickering with something unreadable. “don’t stay out too late.”

you nodded, watching as she disappeared into the warm glow of the ryokan.

wandering the streets, your thoughts drifted. the quiet town was a stark contrast to the chaos of the past weeks, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. as you passed a small flower shop, a memory surfaced—one you hadn’t thought of in years.

a girl had been robbed here once, near the very same shop. you’d been nearby, and without thinking, you’d given her your coat to shield her from the winter chill. the details of her face escaped you now, but you remembered her elegance, her soft voice, and those striking boba eyes.

smiling faintly at the memory, you stepped inside the shop and ordered a bouquet—simple yet elegant.

when you returned to the ryokan, bouquet in hand, you found mina lounging in the common room, now dressed in silk pajamas that looked no less regal. she glanced up, her expression unreadable.

“what’s that?” she asked, nodding toward the flowers.

you held them out to her. “for you.”

she took them, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment. “you’re full of surprises,” she said, though her tone was dry.

“i aim to impress,” you replied with a half-smile, settling on the couch as she arranged the flowers in a nearby vase.

the conversation turned quieter, more contemplative.

“why did you agree to this marriage?” she asked suddenly, her eyes fixed on the vase.

you hesitated. “because of my father,” you admitted vaguely.

she frowned slightly but didn’t press further. “and why did i choose you?”

you looked at her, genuinely curious. “why did you?”

“because the other clans would have been a disaster,” she said bluntly. “the takahashi clan is too reckless, the oh family is steeped in scandals, and the sakuragi name carries no real weight anymore. you, at least, are competent and... predictable.”

“wow,” you muttered, half-laughing. “you really know how to flatter someone.”

she didn’t respond, instead gesturing toward the couch. “you’re sleeping there tonight.”

“obviously,” you said, settling in.

as the night wore on, the conversation softened. she spoke briefly about being an only child, the weight of carrying her family’s legacy. you listened, your own thoughts heavy but unspoken.

eventually, you felt yourself drifting off. the last thing you remembered was the soft rustle of fabric and the faint scent of her perfume as she draped a blanket over you.

when the lights clicked off and her bedroom door closed, you were left in the quiet darkness, a strange sense of warmth settling over you.

-----

the honeymoon felt like a distant memory now. arriving back in the city, you were thrust immediately into the whirlwind of responsibilities that had been waiting for you. it was in your father’s office, a place steeped in heavy tradition and expectations, where the shift became official.

“you’ve earned this again,” your father said, his tone unusually warm as he handed over the legal head director’s seal. “i always knew you had it in you, even if you’ve made... questionable choices in the past. don’t disappoint me again.”

the weight of the title settled over you once more, but it was a weight you always welcomed. you nodded, holding the seal tightly. “i won’t.”

for a fleeting moment, there was pride in your father’s eyes, a rare sight that stirred something in you.

-----

work consumed you in the days that followed. buried under contracts and meetings, you barely noticed the time slip away. your phone buzzed a few times, but you brushed it aside, focused on finishing a particularly thorny case.

it wasn’t until the clock struck 7:45 p.m. that the messages finally caught your attention.

where are you?

you’re supposed to be here.

don’t embarrass me.

mina.

your stomach twisted. the event. you had completely forgotten.

grabbing your coat, you rushed out the door, your mind racing. you didn’t even have time to reply to her messages.

-----

by the time you arrived, the atmosphere in the grand hall was thick with tension. mina stood in the center of the room, flanked by bambam, momo, and sana. her family and their extended circles—the hirais and minatozakis—watched from the sidelines.

opposite her stood sehun, an heir you recognized immediately. his sharp features were twisted into a smirk, his voice carrying across the room.

“and this is who you trust?” sehun sneered, gesturing toward mina. “don’t act like you’re untouchable,” sehun was saying, his voice loud enough to draw attention. “your family’s wealth doesn’t protect you from everything. and you”—he pointed at mina—“should know better than to put your trust in someone like that.”

you moved quickly through the crowd, your steps purposeful but unnoticed.

bambam, to his credit, stepped forward, placing himself protectively between sehun and mina. “watch your tone,” he said, his voice firm.

sehun scoffed, brushing him off. “what are you going to do? you’re just a glorified lapdog.”

then, sehun reached for mina’s arm, his fingers just brushing her sleeve.

“enough.” your voice cut through the air like a blade.

all eyes turned to you as you stepped into the circle, your gaze locked on sehun. his hand froze mid-air before he slowly lowered it, his smirk faltering.

but mina’s gaze flickered to you the moment you moved. without hesitation, she brushed past bambam, placing her hand firmly in yours instead. her grip was cold, steady, and there was something almost defiant in the way she looked at sehun.

the room seemed to hold its breath.

“you’re late,” mina said quietly, her tone clipped.

“i know,” you murmured back.

sehun regained his composure, scoffing as he turned his attention to you. “oh, look who decided to show up. the myoui family’s latest pawn. what took you so long? busy whining over legal briefs?”

ignoring the insult, you stepped forward, keeping mina behind you. “if there’s a problem here, i’d be happy to resolve it. professionally, of course. though, judging by your tone, professionalism isn’t really your style, is it, sehun?”

his sneer deepened. “don’t act like you’re above it all. you’re nothing but a puppet the myoui family is using to clean up their messes. and when they’re done, they’ll throw you out like the trash you are.”

you exhaled slowly, forcing a calm smile. “it’s interesting you’d say that, sehun. especially considering how much your family relied on me to ‘clean up their mess’ during that little scandal last year. or did you forget how your father owes me for handling that? because i certainly haven’t.”

the color drained from his face, but he recovered quickly, scoffing. “so what? you think your ivy league education makes you untouchable? you think being a lawyer gives you any real power? you’re just a loudmouth who hides behind his desk.”

“i don't think,” you said, your voice light with mock sympathy. “i know it, and i do hide behind my desk sometimes. but when i do, it’s because i’m busy drafting paperwork that could make your life a living hell.”

his eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, you took another step closer, your smile turning razor-sharp. “and for the record, attending an ivy league school does make me smarter than you. but don’t let that stop you. if you’re so sure i’m just a ‘loudmouth,’ go ahead. take a swing. prove your point.”

the room went deadly silent. sehun’s fists clenched, his jaw ticking as he debated his options.

before he could act, mina’s hand on your arm pulled you back, her grip firm and commanding. “enough,” she said, her voice low but cutting through the tension like ice.

you turned to look at her, surprised by the faint flicker of protectiveness in her eyes. she didn’t let go until she was sure you weren’t going to push further.

as mina began to guide you away, her grip firm on your arm, the sound of rushed footsteps behind you caught your attention.

you barely had time to react before sehun’s fist connected with your jaw, sending you stumbling into mina.

gasps filled the room, the collective shock palpable.

“are you out of your mind?!” mina’s father’s voice boomed, silencing the crowd. his face was a mix of fury and disbelief as he stepped forward. “this is an outrage!”

mina was immediately at your side, her cold demeanor replaced with sharp concern. her hand hovered near your face, unsure whether to touch the growing bruise. “are you okay?” she asked, her voice lower than before but laced with urgency.

you waved her off, rolling your shoulder and straightening up, though you can taste the metallic copper on your tongue “i’m fine.”

momo, who had been on the other side of the room, pushed through the crowd, her usual lightheartedness gone. “what the hell was that?” she exclaimed, looking between you and sehun. “he just—”

sehun stood frozen, his chest heaving as he realized the gravity of his actions.

mina’s father turned to him, his glare icy. “you dare strike one of us? this is disgraceful. you’ll pay for this, boy.”

“it’s not worth it,” she said quietly, her tone sharp but steady. “don’t stoop to his level.”

for a moment, you nodded, exhaling slowly as if agreeing to let it go. but then sehun sneered, his voice loud enough for the entire room to hear.

“typical,” he said, adjusting his tie as if his punch had meant nothing. “no wonder the myouis are desperate. scraping the bottom of the barrel for help. your family’s a joke, myoui. everyone knows your father’s nothing more than a puppet, and your mother—well, she’s—”

he didn’t finish. he didn’t get the chance.

your fist shot out with precision, landing squarely on his jaw with enough force to send him sprawling to the ground. the thud of his body hitting the polished floor was followed by a stunned silence.

“don’t you dare,” you said, your voice low and venomous, “speak about my wife's family like that.”

sehun groaned, clutching his jaw as he struggled to get up. his confidence shattered, he glared at you with a mix of humiliation and rage.

the room erupted into chaos again. mina gasped, her hand instinctively reaching out but hesitating, while momo let out a delighted laugh.

“oh, this just got interesting,” momo said, her eyes sparkling as she glanced at sana. “did you see that? mina's spouse got some fight in 'em."

sana, standing off to the side, crossed her arms and raised a brow, unimpressed. “hardly seems worth it,” she muttered, though her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary.

sehun scrambled to his feet, his face red with both anger and embarrassment. “you’ll regret that,” he spat, lunging forward.

you sidestepped easily, your movements deliberate. “sehun,” you said, your voice laced with mock sympathy, “if i were you, i’d quit while i’m ahead. you don’t want me calling your father, do you?”

sehun froze, his bravado faltering.

“that’s right,” you continued, stepping closer. “your father still owes me. remember that little scandal? who do you think cleaned that up for him? and if you think he’ll side with you over me, think again. i’m a lawyer, sehun. i don’t just fight with my fists.”

mina’s grip on your arm tightened briefly before she stepped in front of you, her icy composure unshaken. “this ends now,” she said, her voice like a blade. she glanced down at sehun with disdain. “get out before you embarrass yourself further.”

sehun opened his mouth to retort, but the weight of the room’s judgment silenced him. even bambam, who had initially moved to defend mina, stayed back, his gaze flickering between you and sehun.

“you’ve made your point,” mina said, addressing you now. her voice was firm, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—was it gratitude? “let’s go.”

as you followed mina out, momo sidled up beside you, her grin wide. “that was incredible. one hit, and he’s down. you’re like a knight or something,” she teased, her laughter bubbling up.

mina’s gaze was sharp, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. “you shouldn’t have done that,” she said, her tone flat.

“and let him keep running his mouth?” you countered. “not a chance.”

momo sidled up to you, still grinning like a kid in a candy store. “that was amazing. you’ve got some moves,” she said, nudging your arm.

you chuckled, despite yourself. “don’t get used to it.”

“oh, i won’t,” momo said with a wink, her attention briefly flicking to sana, who rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath.

as the commotion settled, mina’s father stepped forward, his authoritative voice cutting through the murmurs of the guests. “this event is over,” he declared, his tone sharp and final. “thank you all for attending.”

the attendees began to disperse, their curiosity about the scandal satiated, though the lingering glances toward you and mina spoke volumes.

you exhaled deeply, the adrenaline fading and the sting of your busted lip becoming more apparent. before you could move, momo appeared at your side, her playful demeanor replaced with genuine concern.

“are you okay?” she asked, her brow furrowed as she leaned closer to inspect your lip.

“i’m fine,” you replied, brushing it off, though the taste of copper on your tongue told a different story.

“you don’t look fine,” momo countered, reaching out as if to help.

before she could, mina swept in with a cool efficiency. she grabbed a folded napkin from one of the nearby tables, her heels clicking decisively against the floor. “i’ll handle it,” she said curtly, brushing past momo without so much as a glance.

momo blinked, taken aback, then stepped aside with a small, amused smile. “guess i’m not needed.”

mina tilted your chin down slightly so you could match her height, her touch firm but not unkind, as she dabbed at your split lip. her expression was cold, but her movements were careful, her fingers brushing lightly against your skin.

“you’re reckless,” she muttered under her breath, her tone both annoyed and something else—grateful, maybe. “what were you thinking?”

you held her gaze, unfazed by her sharpness. “i was thinking you’re my wife,” you said evenly, your voice carrying a protective edge. “and no one gets to disrespect you or your family while i’m around.”

for a moment, her hand paused, her eyes searching yours as if trying to decipher your sincerity. then, with a soft exhale, she resumed cleaning the wound.

across the room, bambam watched the interaction intently, his jaw tight but his expression unreadable.

as mina finished, her mother approached, her usual proud and stoic demeanor softening as she looked at you. “thank you,” she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of years of unyielding pride finally yielding, if only briefly.

you nodded, unsure how to respond to such unexpected gratitude.

mina’s father, however, remained stoic, his gaze assessing as he addressed you. “this could’ve gone very badly,” he said, his tone measured. “but you handled it... adequately. for now.”

you caught the subtle flicker of approval in his eyes, though he would never say it outright.

“thank you, sir,” you replied simply, your posture still formal despite the circumstances.

as the guests thinned out and the myouis regrouped, mina finally let go of the napkin, her demeanor shifting back to its usual aloofness. “you should take care of that properly,” she said, her voice clipped but softer than before.

“i will,” you replied, a small smirk tugging at your lips despite the pain. “wouldn’t want to ruin the perfect image of the myoui family’s new... what was it? ‘pawn’?”

mina rolled her eyes but didn’t respond, her lips pressing into a thin line.

as you walked away with her at your side, momo caught your eye from the corner of the room, giving you a small, conspiratorial thumbs-up. nearby, sana stood with her arms crossed, her expression as unreadable as ever, though the slightest flicker of something—approval?—crossed her face before she turned away.

the night had been far from perfect, but as you exited the venue with mina, you couldn’t help but feel that, for better or worse, you had solidified your place in this world—and by her side.

-----

end of part one.

a/n — hello! sorry for having such a long writing for the first chapter but i really loved this and i promise to continue it.

[crossfandomskylines]

Mountain with a View

Pairing: Glen Powell (RPF) x Female Reader

Summary: Amid the beauty of a coastal getaway, years of neglect and unspoken pain come to a head as you confront Glen about the growing distance in your relationship. What begins as heartbreak turns into a moment of raw honesty as Glen opens up about his fears and regrets, and you acknowledge your own role in the cracks between you. With one final promise and a fragile hope for reconciliation, you take the first steps toward rebuilding, finding solace in the quiet reminder that love is worth fighting for.

Word Count: 8.5K

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing angst, and I think I did okay with it. This took me a little bit longer to write as I've been working on it for about a month or so. This is HEAVILY inspired by the song Mountain with a View by Kelsea Ballerini. I would love to know what you guys think!

The soft light of dawn spilled over the cliffs of Big Sur, painting the rugged coastline in hues of gold and pale pink. Through the open windows of the restaurant, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore filled the air, steady and unchanging, like a heartbeat. The faint smell of salt mingled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, creating a serene tableau that should have felt like paradise.

The table was elegantly set, each detail carefully curated to reflect the luxury of the resort. Crisp white linens draped over the small table, their edges fluttering slightly in the gentle morning breeze. A delicate vase held a cluster of fresh flowers—soft blues and creams that mirrored the morning sky—while the steam rising from the coffee in front of you curled lazily upward, dissipating into the air. Two empty plates sat perfectly aligned, their white porcelain gleaming in the sunlight.

But your gaze lingered on the chair across from you. Empty.

The untouched menu lay neatly folded beside the vacant place setting, its pristine edges catching the light as if mocking the silence that hung between you and the space meant for him. You glanced down at your own menu, holding it loosely in your hands, though the words blurred together. How many times had you reread the same description of avocado toast? How many times had you looked up, hoping to see him striding through the doorway, his usual easy confidence carrying him to you with a quick apology and a kiss pressed to your temple?

The coffee in your mug had gone lukewarm. You wrapped your hands around it anyway, seeking comfort in its weight, its fleeting warmth. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized the server was probably waiting for a sign that you were ready to order. 

But you weren’t. Not yet.

This was supposed to be romantic. The thought came unbidden, sharp and bitter. You had envisioned something different for this morning—a quiet meal shared with him, stolen moments of intimacy as the rest of the world slowly woke. Instead, the carefully orchestrated perfection of the setting only made the absence feel heavier, more pronounced. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant crash of waves and the soft murmur of other diners scattered across the restaurant’s patio.

You set the menu down and traced a finger along the edge of the tablecloth, smoothing out an imaginary crease. The flowers in the vase shifted slightly in the breeze, their petals brushing against one another like a whisper.

And still, the chair across from you remained empty.

You lifted the mug to your lips, sipping the now-tepid coffee and willing the warmth to soothe the knot twisting tighter in your chest. But it didn’t. The weight of the empty chair across from you pressed heavier with each passing minute, and you couldn’t stop your thoughts from circling back to him.

You hadn’t heard from Glen since last night. A text around 9 p.m., short and vague, letting you know something had come up and he wouldn’t make it until today. No explanation, no details. Just: Sorry, won’t make it tonight. I’ll be there first thing tomorrow.

It was morning now, and tomorrow had become today, yet the chair in front of you remained unoccupied.

The unease gnawed at you, growing sharper with each passing second. This was his trip, his plan to reconnect, to prove that you both still had something worth holding onto. You hadn’t even asked for it; he’d been the one to insist you both needed a weekend away, somewhere beautiful and secluded, just the two of you. But now, sitting here alone at a table meant for two, it felt more like proof of how far apart you’d drifted than any sort of reconciliation.

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted softly, and you glanced up to see the waiter standing nearby, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. His smile was polite but edged with curiosity, his gaze flickering briefly to the empty chair before returning to you. “Are you ready to order?”

You forced a smile, the corners of your mouth tugging upward as if on autopilot. “I think I’ll give it a few more minutes,” you said, your voice light but strained.

The waiter nodded, his professional demeanor not faltering as he replied, “Of course. Just let me know when you’re ready.” He moved away, weaving between tables to check on a couple sitting near the edge of the patio.

You exhaled slowly and reached for your phone, unlocking it with a swipe of your thumb. There he was, smiling back at you from the screen.

The photos posted this morning were polished, curated to perfection: behind-the-scenes shots of Glen on set, his arm slung casually around his co-stars; selfies of him laughing with the crew in picturesque European locations; snapshots of stunning landscapes captioned with vague, charming quips. You scrolled through them, one after another, and felt the ache in your chest deepen.

The pictures looked pretty—at least they did on his Instagram.

The sting of it settled in your chest like a sharp, jagged stone. You didn’t even know exactly where he was right now. The last time you’d spoken, he’d mentioned Amsterdam, but that was weeks ago. For all you knew, he could’ve been halfway across the continent by now.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, and for a moment, you debated texting him. Where are you? But you didn’t. Instead, you scrolled further, past the carefully filtered moments that felt so far removed from the reality you were sitting in.

When was the last time you’d had a real conversation with him?

You thought back to your recent texts, the ones that had become increasingly generic, a hollow routine of pleasantries that no longer carried the weight of meaning. Good morning, babe. Goodnight, miss you. The words had once made your heart flutter, a reminder that he was thinking of you even from miles away. 

Now, they just felt like muscle memory—sent out of obligation rather than genuine connection.

The memory of those texts brought a bitter taste to your mouth, sharper than the coffee you hadn’t touched in minutes. You set your phone down on the table with a quiet thud, your fingers curling into your lap as you tried to shake the growing resentment clawing its way up your throat.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel.

You stared out past the edge of the terrace, where the cliffs gave way to the water. The waves crashed below in a steady rhythm, their sound blending with the faint hum of conversation from the other tables. You tried to ground yourself in the moment, to let the beauty of the setting take the edge off the bitter thoughts swirling in your mind. 

But the ache inside was relentless, and your mind wandered to a different time—a time when things with Glen had felt so much simpler, so much easier.

He used to surprise you with the little things. You could still picture the way he’d walk into the apartment with your favorite coffee in hand, the sleeve scribbled with some inside joke that made you laugh every time. Or the way he’d grab your hand in the middle of the week and say, “C’mon, we’re going somewhere,” without offering a single clue as to where you were headed. You’d end up at some hole-in-the-wall restaurant he’d found on Yelp, or sitting on a blanket in the park with a takeout box between you. He always made it an adventure.

And the way he looked at you back then… you felt like the center of his universe. Like there was no one else in the world who mattered to him the way you did. You remembered the way his eyes would light up when you walked into a room, the way he’d pull you close just to tell you how beautiful you looked, even when you were in sweatpants and an old hoodie.

He loved me so much more at twenty-three.

The thought hit you like a wave, pulling you under. A lot can change in six years, it seems.

You used to believe that love grew stronger with time. That the shared memories, the inside jokes, the challenges you overcame together would deepen your connection. But now, sitting here alone at a table meant for two, it felt like the opposite had happened.

You remembered the first time he told you he loved you. You’d been dating for a few months, and he’d taken you to a concert in the city. It had been raining that night, and you both ended up soaked to the bone, laughing as you ran from the venue to his car. Later, as you sat wrapped in his jacket with your hands cradling a steaming cup of tea, he’d looked at you and said it like it was the easiest thing in the world: “I love you.”

You’d believed him then. Completely, utterly, without hesitation.

But now, the words felt like a faint echo of something that had once been vibrant and alive. You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d said it in a way that felt real. Not over a text, not in the perfunctory way he’d sign off on a phone call—but the way he used to say it, with his eyes locked on yours like he meant every syllable.

You ran a hand through your hair, the weight of the memories pressing down on you. Maybe it wasn’t fair to compare the past to the present. Maybe this was just what happened in relationships over time. But that didn’t make the emptiness you felt any easier to bear.

The waiter passed by again, and you glanced at the empty chair. Your chest tightened. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to show up, to prove that this trip wasn’t just another empty promise. But as the minutes ticked by, the weight of his absence grew heavier, and the unease in your stomach gave way to something sharper—resentment, maybe.

Six years ago, he would’ve been here. Six years ago, he wouldn’t have let anything stop him.

And now? Now you weren’t sure what was left between you except memories of what used to be.

You let out a quiet breath, your gaze dropping to the untouched menu in front of you. Where did it all go wrong?

It wasn’t always like this—this hollow ache of waiting, of wondering. There was a time when Glen made you feel like you were his whole world. But now, it was like you were living in his orbit, watching him shine while you stood in the shadows, unseen and forgotten.

Your mind drifted back to the first time he missed something important. It wasn’t a big deal, not really. A dinner date that he had to cancel last minute because a meeting with a director ran late. You’d been disappointed, sure, but he made up for it the next night with takeout and your favorite movie. It felt like a one-time thing then—just a fluke in an otherwise perfect relationship.

But then it happened again. An anniversary he forgot until you reminded him the following morning. He’d scrambled to make a dinner reservation, his apology genuine but rushed. And then there was the weekend trip a few years back you’d planned together, the one you’d been looking forward to for weeks, canceled because he got called back to set for reshoots.

You told yourself it was temporary. That it wasn’t his fault. Glen was ambitious, and you admired that about him. He was chasing his dreams, and you wanted to support him.

But gradually, his career began to take priority over everything else—including you.

You remembered the first time you brought it up to him, years ago, around the time all the buzz for Top Gun: Maverick started. His career was taking off in ways neither of you had anticipated, and it felt like he was slipping away from you, one missed moment at a time.

“I just feel like…” you’d hesitated, trying to find the right words, “like we don’t see each other anymore. Like you’re always busy, and I’m just… here.”

He’d pulled you into his arms, his voice soft and reassuring. “I know, babe. I know it’s been a lot lately, but it’s just this project. Once it’s over, things will go back to normal. I promise.”

You wanted to believe him. And for a while, you did. But after the whirlwind press tour for Top Gun, there was another project. And then another. Each one bigger than the last. Each one demanding more of his time, his energy, his focus.

The promises he made—that things would slow down, that he’d have more time for you—started to feel like smoke slipping through your fingers. They were never meant to be kept, just empty words to soothe you in the moment.

The last year of your life had proven that. You could count on one hand the number of nights you’d spent together in the same place, and even then, his mind always seemed to be elsewhere. On a script, on a meeting, on whatever was waiting for him the next day.

Sitting at the table now, you wrestled with your emotions. Part of you wanted to believe that things could go back to the way they were, that the Glen you’d fallen in love with was still in there somewhere, waiting to come back to you. But deep down, you knew better. You couldn’t unring a bell. You couldn’t undo the years of distance that had grown between you.

The truth sat heavy in your chest, undeniable and cruel: Glen’s career wasn’t going to slow down anytime soon. And if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep waiting for him to choose you.

The sound of laughter from a nearby table broke your train of thought. You glanced toward the source, a young couple leaning into each other, their faces alight with the kind of joy you remembered so vividly from the early days with Glen.

You’d just decided to flag the waiter and order something when you heard footsteps approaching from behind.

“Sorry I’m late.”

His voice was smooth, polished, just like everything else about him. Glen always had a way of sounding like nothing was ever truly a big deal, like the world bent itself around his schedule and not the other way around.

You glanced up as he slid into the seat across from you, looking every bit the Hollywood leading man. His perfectly tousled hair caught the soft morning light, and his tailored shirt looked as though it had been pulled straight off a magazine cover. He flashed you the charming smile that used to make your heart race, but now it only made your stomach twist.

“You know how crazy things can get,” he added with a casual shrug, as if the excuse alone should absolve him.

You managed a tight smile, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I know.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, as Glen picked up the menu. You couldn’t help noticing the faint scent of his cologne, subtle but sharp, lingering in the air. It was the same one he’d worn for years, a scent that used to comfort you. Now it just felt distant, like a memory you couldn’t quite hold onto.

“So,” Glen began, his tone overly light, “how are you liking the trip so far?”

You glanced up at him, your fingers tightening around your coffee mug. “It’s fine.”

“Fine?” He raised an eyebrow, setting the menu down. “Come on, this place is amazing. I thought you’d love it.”

“It is amazing,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. You looked out the open window, watching the waves crash against the cliffs in the distance. “I just… I guess I thought we’d be seeing more of it together.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than you meant them to be. Glen shifted in his seat, picking up his water glass and taking a long sip.

“You know how things are,” he said, his tone apologetic but dismissive all the same. “This shoot’s been nonstop, and they’re already talking about reshoots next month. But I wanted us to have this time together, even if it’s just for a couple of days.”

“Right,” you murmured, forcing yourself to focus on the vase of fresh flowers between you. White lilies, delicate and pristine.

The clink of silverware against plates at a nearby table filled the silence. You glanced over at Glen, noting the way he avoided meeting your eyes for too long. He folded his hands in front of him, his polished watch catching the light, and for a moment, it felt like you were sitting across from a stranger.

He cleared his throat, forcing a smile. “So, what looks good here? Have you looked at the menu yet?”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. “The avocado toast looks nice.”

“Avocado toast,” Glen repeated with a chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re so predictable.”

It was the kind of teasing that used to make you laugh, the kind that felt endearing. But now it felt different—like he was poking at a version of you he hadn’t taken the time to know in years.

You traced the rim of your coffee mug with your finger, searching for something to say, but nothing came. The silence grew, filled only by the distant crash of waves and the hum of other diners’ conversations.

Finally, Glen flagged down the waiter, ordering for both of you without so much as a glance in your direction. You didn’t correct him, even though you’d changed your mind about what you wanted.

The breakfast felt quiet and suffocating. Every bite of food tasted like nothing, every glance Glen threw your way felt like it came from someone miles away. You wanted to bridge the gap, to say something that would pull him back to you, but the words caught in your throat.

Instead, you focused on the details. The clink of his fork against his plate. The way he scrolled through his phone when he thought you weren’t looking. The half-empty coffee cup he didn’t bother finishing. And the way he kept glancing at his watch, like there was somewhere else he’d rather be. Somewhere else he probably was already planning to go.

Glen’s fork scraped against his plate as he finished the last bite of his omelet. You’d barely touched your avocado toast, pushing it around with your fork until it looked more like a suggestion of a meal than food.

He glanced at you, then down at the untouched plate. “Not hungry?”

You hesitated, forcing a faint smile. “I guess not.”

He nodded absently, flagging down the waiter with a lift of his hand. In one smooth motion, he pulled out his wallet, slipping a card onto the check tray as soon as it arrived. No hesitation, no glance at the total—it was a gesture that screamed effortless privilege, something that used to impress you. Now, it just felt... hollow.

“Ready?” he asked, standing and holding out a hand to you.

You stared at his outstretched hand for a moment too long before taking it, his grip firm but impersonal. He helped you out of your chair like it was a reflex, like leading you was second nature but looking at you wasn’t.

The two of you stepped out into the fresh morning air, the salty breeze carrying with it the faint crash of waves from below. Glen slipped on his sunglasses, the mirrored lenses catching the soft light of dawn as he looked down the narrow road leading toward your rental house.

“It’s a nice morning,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Want to walk back?”

You nodded, tucking your arms around yourself. “Sure.”

The two of you set off in silence, your shoes crunching against the gravel path before it gave way to the smooth cobblestones of the resort. The cliffs of Big Sur loomed in the distance, majestic and timeless, their beauty unchanging despite the ache in your chest.

Glen walked with the easy confidence he always carried, his long strides slowing slightly to match your pace. You stole a glance at him from the corner of your eye—his jaw was relaxed, his gaze hidden behind the reflective lenses of his sunglasses. He looked like someone who belonged in this setting, polished and effortless.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” Glen asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” you lied. The truth was, you’d spent hours staring at the ceiling, the sound of distant waves doing nothing to quiet the spiral of thoughts in your head. “You?”

“As good as I could expect,” he replied, flashing you a quick smile. “You know how sleeping on a flight is.”

You nodded, unsure what else to say. The conversation fizzled out again, leaving only the sound of the waves and the occasional call of seagulls to fill the space between you.

As you rounded a corner, the rental house came into view—a charming, weathered cottage perched on the edge of a cliff, its white shutters standing out against the soft gray of its exterior. It had been your idea to book something cozy and intimate, a far cry from the glitzy resort Glen had looked into. At the time, you’d thought it would be a chance for the two of you to reconnect. Now, it just felt like a stage for the growing distance between you.

As he unlocked the door and stepped inside, you lingered for a moment, looking out at the endless expanse of ocean. The salty breeze swept through your hair, carrying with it a question you couldn’t push away:

When did it all start to fall apart?

The soft click of the door closing behind you felt heavier than it should have. Glen dropped his keys onto the small table by the door and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair. He moved through the cozy living room with the ease of someone who didn’t notice the growing weight in the air between you.

“So,” he said, heading toward the kitchen, “how’s Emily doing? She’s the friend who is pregnant, right? When’s she due again? We should probably send a gift or something, don’t you think?”

You froze where you stood, his words settling over you like ice.

“The baby shower was four months ago,” you said slowly, your voice tight. “Her daughter’s going to be three months old next week. I showed you a picture of her when she was born.”

Glen paused mid-step, glancing back at you with a sheepish smile. “Right. I—I guess I forgot.”

Forgot.

The word echoed in your mind, dredging up every other time he’d “forgotten”—anniversaries, birthdays, plans you’d made weeks in advance. The ache in your chest swelled, anger and hurt twisting together in a knot that felt impossible to untangle.

“You forgot,” you repeated, your voice sharper now. “Of course, you forgot. Why would you remember anything about my life when you’re too busy living your own?”

He frowned, the easy confidence he always carried faltering for a moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You stepped closer, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, as if that could somehow hold you together. “It means you don’t know anything about me anymore, Glen. Not really. You’re so out of touch with my life it’s like you’re not even in it.”

“Come on, that’s not fair,” he said, his voice rising defensively. “I’ve been busy. You know how crazy things get with work.”

“You’ve been busy?” You laughed bitterly, the sound sharp enough to cut through the tension. “That’s your excuse for everything, isn’t it? I’ve been here waiting, Glen. Not just today, but for years. Waiting for you to show up. Waiting for you to keep your promises.”

Glen ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bleeding into his tone. “You knew what you were signing up for when we got together. You knew my career was important to me.”

“And what about me?” The words burst out of you, raw and unfiltered. “Was I ever important to you? Or was I just supposed to sit here and smile and wait while you made excuse after excuse? You promised things would get better, but they haven’t. And I can’t keep waiting for you to show up.”

His jaw tightened, and he shook his head, his voice low and simmering. “You’re being dramatic. It’s not like I don’t care about you.”

“Do you?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger and something far more vulnerable. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. You’ll say I’m crazy for being the one to leave, but I can’t keep doing this, Glen. I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine while you’re barely here.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. Glen stared at you, his expression unreadable, as if he was trying to piece together how things had unraveled so quickly.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, but no less defensive. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to try,” you said, your voice cracking. “I want you to fight for this, for us, but you don’t...And I don’t think you ever will.”

His silence was deafening, and in that moment, you knew.

You turned away, wrapping your arms around yourself as tears burned at the corners of your eyes. The sound of the waves crashing in the distance filtered through the open windows, a cruel reminder of the beauty around you that felt so out of reach.

When Glen finally spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize you felt this way.”

You turned back to him, your gaze steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “That’s the problem, Glen. You don’t realize anything.”

Glen stayed rooted to the spot, his hands resting on the back of the chair he’d just pulled out. His knuckles whitened against the wood as he gripped it tighter, the weight of your words pressing down on him.

“You’ll say I’m crazy for being the one to leave,” he repeated quietly, almost to himself. The phrase hung in the air, raw and unforgiving.

He looked up at you then, his usual polished composure cracking ever so slightly. His brows drew together, and his jaw flexed like he was trying to find the right words and failing. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, his voice wavered, and he stopped. His hand rose to his face, dragging down his jaw as he cleared his throat.

“You really want to leave?” he asked, his voice low and strained, like the words physically hurt to say.

You hadn’t expected him to sound so... vulnerable. It caught you off guard, but it wasn’t enough to soften the ache in your chest.

You turned toward him slowly, your arms still wrapped around yourself. The tightness in your throat returned, and you had to swallow hard before you could respond. You didn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded.

The moment stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. Glen exhaled sharply, running both hands through his hair now. He paced a few steps before stopping, his back to you.

“I didn’t... I didn’t realize it was this bad,” he said, his voice quiet, almost a whisper. He sounded less like the confident, larger-than-life man you’d fallen for and more like someone lost.

“That’s the problem,” you said softly, not out of anger but exhaustion. “You didn’t realize. You never realize.”

He turned back to face you, his eyes searching yours like he was looking for some flicker of hope, something to hold on to. “I know I’ve screwed up, okay? I know I haven’t been... I haven’t been what you needed. But I thought—I thought we were okay. I thought we’d figure it out like we always do.”

“Glen, we haven’t been ‘okay’ in a long time,” you said, your voice breaking on the last word. “I’ve been waiting for things to change, for you to keep your promises, but they’re always just words. And I can’t keep waiting for something that’s never going to happen.”

He took a step closer, his expression pleading. “I can do better. I’ll make time for you, for us. Just—don’t give up on me. On us.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over now despite your best efforts to hold them back. “I can't keep doing this. I’ve been holding on for so long, Glen. But I’m tired. I’m so tired of being second to everything else in your life.”

His shoulders slumped, and he took another step closer, hesitating like he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch you. “So that’s it? You’re done?”

The tightness in your throat became unbearable, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. Your voice was barely above a whisper when you finally spoke. “I think I have to be.”

The words hung in the space between you, final and irrevocable. Glen’s face crumpled, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, might fight harder. But then he just nodded, a hollow acceptance settling over him.

You looked away, unable to bear the sight of him like that, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. The sound of the waves outside filled the silence as the two of you stood there, caught between what had been and what would never be again.

The silence between you lingered, heavy and unbearable, until Glen finally broke it. “Do you... do you want me to book you a flight home?”

His voice was low, almost tentative, like he was afraid of your answer. You didn’t look at him, staring down at the floor instead. Your chest tightened at the question, the finality of it. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply nodded.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the way his shoulders slumped, the way he exhaled like the air had been punched out of him. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. You swore you could feel the exact moment his heart broke, could see it in the defeated way he ran a hand through his hair. Maybe, some small part of him had been holding on to the hope that this was all a bad dream—that you’d wake up tomorrow and things would go back to normal.

But your nod was the final blow, and he seemed to understand that. “Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He nodded once, more to himself than to you, and turned toward the bedroom. “I’ll... I’ll take care of it.”

He didn’t look back as he walked away, and you didn’t call after him.

As the sound of his footsteps faded, you turned toward the glass doors leading out to the balcony. The cool morning air hit you the moment you stepped outside, carrying with it the faint scent of salt and sea. The waves crashed rhythmically against the cliffs below, indifferent to the turmoil inside you.

You gripped the edge of the balcony railing, the smooth metal cold beneath your palms. The weight of everything—the fight, the words you’d spoken, the reality of what you’d just done—pressed down on you. It felt suffocating and freeing all at once.

You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady the swirl of emotions inside you. This was it. The end of something that had once been everything to you. Six years of memories, of laughter and love, of promises whispered in the dark—they all came rushing back, unbidden, and it took everything in you not to crumble under the weight of them.

But as painful as it was, you knew you’d made the right choice.

For the first time in a long time, you let yourself feel it all—the grief, the anger, the sadness, the relief.

Inside, you could hear faint sounds of movement—Glen probably on the phone, making arrangements to send you home. The home you hadn’t been to in days, but already longed for.

You closed your eyes, letting the wind whip through your hair, and exhaled. You didn’t know what came next, but for now, all you could do was stand here, on this edge, and breathe.

The wind swirled around you as you leaned on the balcony railing, the weight of everything settling deep in your chest. The sound of the waves was steady, soothing even, but it couldn’t drown out the muffled noise that drifted through the open window behind you.

At first, you didn’t register it. But then it came again—a soft, broken sound that made you still.

You turned slightly, glancing over your shoulder toward the bedroom. Through the sheer curtains fluttering in the breeze, you saw him. Glen was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands.

His shoulders were shaking.

You froze, the sight striking something deep inside you. It wasn’t loud or dramatic—just a quiet, private unraveling. But it was unmistakable: Glen was crying.

The realization hit you like a wave, unexpected and overwhelming. Glen never cried. He’d always been the one to keep his emotions in check, to brush off pain or sadness with a laugh or a quick deflection. The only time you’d ever seen him like this was years ago, when his family lost his grandmother. You’d held him then, wrapping your arms around him as he let himself break, his face buried in your shoulder.

And now, watching him through the window, you were reminded of that moment. Only this time, he wasn’t leaning on you for comfort. He was alone, carrying the weight of what had just happened all by himself.

This wasn’t the polished, distant Glen who had been showing up less and less in your life. This wasn’t the Glen who missed breakfasts or forgot about baby showers. This was the man you fell in love with—the one who used to bring you your favorite coffee on a random Tuesday, who looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. This was your Glen.

Your throat tightened as you watched him, your heart aching in a way that felt almost unbearable.

A part of you wanted to go to him, to cross the room and sit beside him, to wrap your arms around him and tell him it was going to be okay. That you didn’t mean it, that you’d stay, that you could find a way to fix things together.

But your feet wouldn’t move.

Because deep down, you knew that even if you comforted him now, it wouldn’t change anything. The years of distance, of broken promises, of waiting and hoping—it wasn’t something a single moment could undo.

Still, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. The sight of him like this—so raw, so unguarded—tugged at something inside you, a small flicker of the love you’d been trying to let go of.

You turned back to the balcony railing, gripping it tightly as you tried to steady yourself. The sound of his quiet sobs carried through the air, cutting through you in a way that made it hard to breathe.

And finally, you let yourself cry too.

The silence between you was heavy, the kind that wrapped itself around you and wouldn’t let go. You stayed on the balcony, gripping the railing like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Silent tears rolled down your cheeks, the occasional hitch in your breath the only sound you made.

Inside, Glen hadn’t moved much. You could still see him through the window, his figure barely shifting as he sat on the edge of the bed. His shoulders had stopped shaking, but he hadn’t lifted his head.

Minutes passed, maybe an hour—you weren’t sure. Time felt like it had frozen, stretching out endlessly in this painful limbo.

Finally, you heard him making his way out of the bedroom.

“The earliest flight I could get is this afternoon,” he said, his voice rough and low, like he hadn’t spoken in days.

You turned to look at him, meeting his eyes through the thin veil of the curtain. They were red-rimmed and glassy, his face pale, his jaw tight like he was holding something back.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

He stood then, running a hand through his hair before stepping through the sliding glass door onto the patio where you were.. He stopped just short of you, as if there was an invisible barrier between you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking on the words. “For everything.”

You swallowed hard, blinking back more tears as you waited for him to continue.

“For not making you a priority. For being too caught up in my own world to see what I was doing to you—what I was doing to us.” He paused, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. “I didn’t mean to... I just—I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you stayed quiet, letting him get it out.

“I thought if I just worked hard enough,” he said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper, “I could make everything perfect for us. The house, the vacations, the security—everything. I thought that’s what you deserved. But... I see now I’ve just been pushing you away.”

The vulnerability in his eyes hit you like a punch to the chest. It was the same look he’d had years ago, the one that made you fall for him in the first place. It was a raw, unguarded honesty that you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking again. “I could tell things were getting bad, but I didn’t know how to fix them. And there was so much I couldn’t control—work, schedules, everything. So I buried myself in it, thinking... I don’t know. Maybe if I just stayed busy, I wouldn’t have to face the fact that I was losing you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, and you had to look away, your gaze dropping to the wooden floor of the balcony.

“All I want is for you to be happy,” Glen said, his tone softer now, almost pleading. “And if... if you're not happy with...” His voice cracked completely, and he had to stop, clearing his throat before continuing. “If you're not happy with me, then... I’ll understand.”

You looked back at him then, really looked at him, and for a moment, it felt like you were staring at the Glen you used to know—the one who used to bring you coffee just because, who used to hold your hand in the car, who used to make you feel like you were the center of his universe.

But that version of him felt so far away now, like a memory you could barely reach.

“I just... I just want you to be happy,” he repeated, his voice barely audible, as if saying it again might make it hurt less.

You wiped at your eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. They were honest, raw, and for the first time in what felt like forever, they felt real. But they weren’t enough—not anymore.

You turned fully to face him, leaning back against the balcony railing for support. The tightness in your chest didn’t ease, but you forced yourself to speak through it.

“It’s not just you, Glen,” you began, your voice trembling. “I—I let this happen too.”

His brow furrowed slightly, as if your admission confused him.

“I’ve been avoiding the hard conversations,” you continued, looking down at your hands, your thumb nervously tracing over the edge of your ring. “Because I was scared. Scared of what they might reveal. Scared that if I said how I really felt, it would all just... fall apart.”

His lips parted, but he didn’t speak, waiting for you to finish.

“I thought that if I just kept quiet, if I just kept pretending everything was fine, then maybe we could get back to the way we used to be eventually. But it hasn’t worked. And now... now I feel like we’ve just been drifting further and further apart.”

You paused, taking a shaky breath, your fingers tightening around the edge of the railing.

“I love you, Glen,” you said, your voice breaking on the words. “God, I love you so much it hurts sometimes. But love isn’t enough—not if you’re never here. Not if you’re always somewhere else, chasing something I can’t reach. I'm never going to be happy if you're not here with me.”

He flinched like the words physically hit him, his hands clenching into fists at his sides before he shoved them into his pockets.

“I need you to be present,” you said, tears spilling over your lashes again. “I need to feel like I matter to you, like our relationship matters to you. And I haven’t felt that in so long.”

His jaw worked, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to find something to say. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath.

“You do matter to me,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “You matter more than anything. I just... I didn’t realize how much I was failing you. I thought I was doing all of this for us, but I see now that it’s not enough. That I’m not enough.”

You shook your head quickly, stepping closer to him. “It’s not about being enough, Glen. It’s about being here. Being with me, not just physically, but emotionally.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes glistening, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The weight of everything you’d been holding back for years hung in the air between you, raw and unfiltered.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Your heart ached at his words, at the pain in his expression, but you didn’t know how to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you admitted, your voice trembling. 

The silence stretched between you, heavy and fragile, until Glen took a tentative step forward. His hand hovered in the space between you for a moment, like he was waiting for permission. Then, with a careful slowness, he closed the distance and pulled you into his chest.

The warmth of his embrace was immediate, familiar, and for a moment, it felt like you could let yourself fall apart. His arms wrapped around you securely, one hand resting against the back of your head as he tilted his chin down to press a kiss to your hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You didn’t respond—not with words, at least. Instead, you buried your face against his chest, the fabric of his shirt soaking up your tears. Your arms slipped around his waist, your hands clutching at the back of his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring you to the ground.

His grip tightened, just enough to make you feel safe, but not enough to smother. You could hear his heart beating against your ear, steady and strong, and for a fleeting second, you wondered if you’d ever hear it this close again.

You clung to him, your fingers curling into the material of his shirt as if holding on could somehow freeze time. The thought that this might be the last time you’d feel his arms around you made your throat tighten, and fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.

He leaned down closer, his lips brushing against the top of your head as he murmured, “I never wanted this. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You shook your head weakly, your voice muffled against his chest as you choked out, “I didn’t either.”

Glen pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders. His eyes searched yours, wide and desperate, his voice breaking as he finally spoke.

“Please,” he said, the single word trembling with emotion. “Just... give me one more chance.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. His grip tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to anchor you in place.

“I know I’ve said this before,” he continued, his voice low but urgent, “but this time it’s different. I swear to you, it’s different.”

You wanted to believe him—God, you wanted to—but doubt lingered like a shadow in the back of your mind. He must have seen it on your face because he rushed to keep speaking, the words tumbling out almost faster than he could say them.

“I’ve been thinking—really thinking—about how I’ve let you down. About how I’ve let us down. And you’re right. I’ve been so caught up in work, in trying to make everything perfect, that I didn’t see how much I was losing in the process. But I’m done, okay? I’m done putting my career ahead of you.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. “What are you saying?” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded like he’d already made the decision. “After this project wraps, I’m taking a break. A real one this time. No more back-to-back shoots, no more press tours that take me halfway across the world. I’ll cut back—one, maybe two projects a year, tops. I don’t care if it hurts my career. I just want to stop hurting you.”

His words were raw, unpolished, but they hit you like a punch to the chest. For the first time in years, it felt like he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear. There was thought behind his words, real intention.

He took a deep, shaky breath and pressed on, his voice softer now. “I’ll do whatever. Whatever you need, whatever it takes. I’ll prove to you that I can be better. That I can be the man you fell in love with again.”

You stared at him, your tears blurring his face as his words echoed in your mind. You could feel the sincerity in every syllable, see it in the way his hands trembled slightly as they held onto you, like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“Please,” he whispered again, his voice cracking as his hands slid down to take yours in his. “Just give me one more chance. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us.”

His words wrapped around your heart, tugging you in two directions. The part of you that had been hurt over and over again wanted to stay guarded, to keep the walls you’d built firmly in place. But another part—the part that still loved him, that still saw glimpses of the man you’d fallen for—wanted to believe him.

This time, it felt real. It felt different. And for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to imagine that maybe, just maybe, it could be.

You took a deep, steadying breath. You took a step back, your gaze dropping to where Glen’s hands now held yours. His grip was firm but not forceful, a silent plea for you to trust him just one more time. You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper when you finally spoke.

“I’ll stay,” you said, the words trembling on your lips. Glen’s breath hitched, and you could feel his grip tighten ever so slightly, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you correctly. “Just for the rest of the weekend. When we get back home... we’ll figure out what happens next.”

The relief that washed over his face was almost heartbreaking. His shoulders sagged, the tension visibly draining from his body as he nodded quickly. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “That’s all I need right now. Just... thank you.”

You gave a small nod, unable to say anything more as you turned and made your way back to the balcony. The cool ocean breeze kissed your cheeks as you leaned over the railing, staring out at the endless expanse of water. The waves crashed softly against the shore, their rhythmic sound both soothing and haunting.

A moment later, you felt Glen step behind you. His arms wrapped gently around your waist, pulling you back into the solid warmth of his chest. He didn’t say anything at first, just rested his chin lightly on the top of your head as the two of you stared out at the water in silence.

It wasn’t the silence of before—the heavy, suffocating kind that carried unspoken resentment. This was different. It was quiet, yes, but there was a sense of fragile peace in it. Like the storm that had been raging between you for so long had finally calmed, even if only for a moment.

“I love you,” Glen whispered, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it over the sound of the waves. But you did, and the words sent a fresh wave of emotion coursing through you.

You closed your eyes, leaning back into him as your hands moved to rest on top of his where they were wrapped around your waist. “I know,” you murmured, your voice thick with unshed tears.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to let go of the hurt, if only for a little while. You let yourself feel the weight of his arms around you, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the quiet sincerity in his voice.

As you stood there together, you thought back to that moment earlier in the day—standing alone, feeling the crushing weight of loneliness as you stared out at the beauty of this place. A mountain with a view, and yet, it had felt so empty.

But now, with Glen’s arms around you, it felt different. The view was still the same, the ocean stretching endlessly before you, the horizon painted in hues of gold and pink as the sun began its descent. But now, you weren’t alone.

And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have to be.

[mercutio-the-velaryon]

Mel Medarda self-destructive crashout era in a High Fidelity AU

Buys a record store on a whim to rebel against her Ambessa

Was engaged to Jayce but self-sabotaged and now they haven't seen each other in a year (he skips town broken hearted)

Has an on and off relationship with a bouncer called Sevika

Has a fling with socialite Lest

Has a one night stand with her best friend and employee Elora and now things are weird

Has a three month rebound relationship with Sky Young, an engineer who runs the community garden near the record store and stumbles in one day, it ends badly

Finds out Jayce is back in town and engaged again, she finds out, crashes out, and spills her heart out to a stranger at a bar (Its Viktor, the new fiancee btw, he doesn't tell her)

Melvik's friendship develops (magnetism they can't help themselves)

Viktor grappling with guilt lying to both Mel and Jayce

Mel decides to apologise to Jayce so she asks around trying to find a way to contact him to no avail until she spots him randomly one night, passing by THEIR restaurant, the one they frequented, the one he proposed to her in and hes there with Viktor.

She crashes their date before thinking, then pieces it together as she stares at both of them.

Viktor like a deer caught in headlights says "Mel?"

Jayce, trying to maintain his cool responds, "You two know each other"

Mel bursts out laughing, its manic and offputting, and she walks out.

Viktor follows without a word to Jayce.

Outside, he yells after her (he's not running)

She approaches him, tears falling from her eyes despite her stern expression.

"You were the only real friend I had left" she says.

"Whose fault is that?" he smiles weakly.

Her heart is hammering in her chest, she scoffs almost humoured.

Jayce comes out.

Mel freaks and tries to leave.

Viktor calls her back.

and all I'll say is meljay reconciliation, melvik reconciliation and meljayvik happy ever after because I'm lazy

meljayvik owning the record store together awwwwww

the way I just started writing the fic lmao I'm sorry

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

In honor of @littlepaws9's birthday, we will pretend the break-up never happened... this is very short and hopefully as fluffy as you like your BuckTommy ;)

............................................................................................................................

"I wanna take you out tomorrow," Buck breathes into Tommy's ear, half-hidden from the bedsheet. 

The answer is a mere grunt, he takes it as approval.

"It's a nice restaurant," he continues to chatter, "a bit outside of town, not so fancy, pretty cozy, I think you'll like it."

Squinting, Tommy questions his pillow with a muffled, "Tomorrow’s New Year’s?"

"I've made the reservation a couple of months ago."

This confession seems to crack Tommy’s eyes finally open. He’s still wearing this adorable scrunched-up sleeping face, but Buck can tell something is working behind his brow. A couple of months ago, they almost broke up over a stupid argument, preceded by an evening at Miceli's. It was easy to guess that Buck – after their very hot reconciliation – had made a kind of vow for the future: never to go to that restaurant again, and to never leave anything to chance. 

"Fine, but why are you telling me this at..." Tommy lifts his head briefly to look at the alarm clock on his nightstand, "six in the morning?"

"I've got a shift. And you live closer to Harbor than to the 118."

"Huh?"

"One of us has to get up early, sleepyhead," Buck says with a laugh, pressing a kiss on the fuzzy head sticking out of the sheets.

The restaurant really proved to be beautiful, far from all the chrome and glass that modern places in L.A. considered aesthetically pleasing. This special day seems to call for wine, so they settle for red. At the tables around them, only couples are to be seen. Buck finds Tommy to be unusually taciturn, and he starts to wonder why. 

"You tired?" he asks, causing Tommy to look up in surprise from the salad he’s been pushing back and forth with his fork. "We can always have dessert at home, if you want."

He winks, and Tommy scrunches his face in his pretty little smile.

"I'd like that," he returns. "But that's not it."

Putting a hand on Buck’s, he softly explains, "New Year’s Eve is always so… charged. Everybody’s making vows and resolutions, and it’s become some kind of couple event, almost worse than Valentine’s." With a nod, he gestures to the guests around them.

"Too corny?" Buck offers. 

"Hm, too many expectations," Tommy cautiously replies. "And... Sometimes you don't know how to fulfill them."

"Expectations," Buck echoes, pondering whatever this might mean. "Look, all I'm expecting is for you to sit there, enjoy your free meal and look at your handsome boyfriend."

"Oh, I can do that," Tommy says with a smirk, raising his glass. 

"Totally cool if this isn't your holiday," Buck continues, a little more serious now. "Just wanna be with you, like... every day, you know?"

Tommy tilts his head and seems about to reply, but Buck quickly interrupts him.

"Don't freak out, because yeah, I do admit I'm a fan of holidays, any kind of them. And I… I brought you something. You can find that kitschy, be my guest to hide under the table, and I expect nothing in return, but…"

Suddenly, there’s a small box in his hand, and Tommy’s features slip.

"Evan," he breathes, a trail of disbelief in his voice. "We agreed on no presents."

"I said don't freak out! That was Christmas, by the way. And it’s not what it looks like." 

With a sheepish smile, he opens the box. Inside lie two very discreet, very pretty silver ear studs in the shape of the letter E. 

"Remember when I once asked you about your pierced ears? You said you got them in your youth but didn’t dare wearing any earrings because of your career choices. And, w…well. You're no longer in the closet. And I know that I'm not the reason for it, but... I'm the reason you admitted it to some of your old friends, and those are my friends too, and that's kind of a big deal somehow. I’m sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"It's embarrassing, especially after you’ve made it clear Christmas and New Year’s aren’t your … favorites."

"Well," Tommy stretches, reaching for one of his pockets, pulling out quite a similar little box. 

"They’re not," he admits. "There’s a reason I like to volunteer for shifts on those days. Until… well, until you, Evan. I know I kinda chickened out of Christmas, just didn’t feel right to be with your family. You were so understanding, I felt bad. And it was obvious you had something planned for today. It’s adorable when you try to keep a secret. This wasn't exactly what I was expecting... well, that's a conversation for another day. And even if I don't particularly like the day, that doesn't change my affection for you, Evan. I've spent the last few days thinking about how I could show it to you. Pondering what you would like. And, uh... great minds think alike, I guess?"

He flicks open the box to reveal a set of small, silver ear studs. They look like tiny T’s. 

"Cheesy, isn't it?" he says with a broad grin that can hardly hide the fact he’s about to burst out laughing.

"Pretty much," Evan laughs before blurting out, "I don't even have pierced ears, babe."

"I know a good tattoo artist."

"Oh, me too. You know what? We'll go there together. Ear piercings for me and a new tattoo for both of us."

"Bold, Evan. You better not get my name engraved, who knows if you’ll still want me next year?"

"Don't worry," Buck replies with a smile. "You're a keep, no doubt about that."

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fraturday

Hi everyone, how we holding up? I'm coping (ish) with a Ghost Whisperer watch through and an abundance of wonderful fic. Back with another fortnight of fic that I've read and loved recently, and wow there's been some amazing stories! As always you can find previous rec lists here.

14 December 2024

at this fork in the road (I want the path that leads me to you) by @polkadotk804 was recommended to me by an anon (thank you!), and has firmly cemented polkadot as a must read author! A sliding doors split narrative fic, in which in one strand Eddie asks Buck to come with him to El Paso, and in another strand he stays silent. Moving, emotional, full of small and large steps to reconciliation with Chris, Eddie as a brilliant Dad actually thank you very much, and the Diaz parents interfering, this is such a great read.

love letters written by someone else's hand by @moonsharky is so much fun!! After the 118's cameo on hotshots' midseason finale, buck finds himself hooked on the show and binge watches the entire series, quickly immersing himself in the fandom life. He's deep diving on reddit and stumbles across RPF of him and Eddie (aka Nurse 1 & 2) and curiosity strikes. Joyful, and brilliantly done.

beating the horse by @doitbuckley in which Eddie is moving to Texas, and looking back at his various 1.0 2.0 upgrades, Buck finally figures out what he wants. But of course first he has to spiral hard, whilst trying not to let on that that's just what he's doing. Oh this hurt so much, but was so good. Buck just absolutely ripping himself to shreds whilst Eddie quietly self combusts in the background. So so satisfying, and I loved the open endedness of it all. Wonderful work!

the sweetest possible lie by @wildehacked Chris’s fifteenth birthday falls on a Tuesday, and it couldn’t be more different from last year. Eddie and Buck take him to dinner to celebrate, and an assumption from the waitstaff leads Chris in a bout of teenage grandiosity to ask why Buck still denies being his father figure when people suggest it. This is short but packs a punch, and has such a clever and sympathetic eye on youthful wilfulness, as well as the balancing act that Buck and Eddie are on.

Somethings Said (to turn you inside out) by taegyungie absolutely KILLED ME with the sexual tension, my goodness, I kept having to pause to catch my breath. During the end scene in 8x08, Buck catches Eddie on Grindr, gets confirmation he's started sleeping with men...and now Buck can't stop thinking about it. Absolutely unable to stop his curiosity, he finds himself drawn to Eddie's profile, and soon casual chatting leads to more. Absolutely sizzling hot, and the voice and characterisation of their teasing friendship developing was so gorgeous.

bad luck to talk and the strangers by jaekyu both incredible! In BLTT, we get thee most miscommunicating dummies fic - in which buddie start having casual sex in the midst of season 8 but do not talk about it, just add it to the mix of their friendship. Eddie is convinced this means they are dating, Buck thinks it must be a case of fwb as Eddie can't love him. They both reexamine with the benefit of hindsight. It's hot, compelling, and full of aching romantic tension. In The Strangers, we have them coping with Eddie moving to El Paso by hooking up, and then Eddie running, with Buck later visiting, and the cycle repeating. It's so much connection and hope and pain, and beautiful, with some A+ Eddie thesis statements.

and i fell (like a dead body falls) by fearofgod oh my god this one near broke me 😭 Buck and Eddie are on their first date, when the ground literally drops out from beneath their feet in an explosion at the restaurant. Both badly injured, they rely on each other to help those they're trapped with, whilst life slowly drifts ever further away. I realised as I was reading that I hadn’t checked for a MCD tag and was genuinely like oh god what if they actually die? (Don't worry, there's a hope!) I really adored the characterisation of them both being already all in on their relationship, and the weight of their friendship and working partnership history coming to the fore in the crisis, and yet that they were still figuring things out and on the cusp of feelings actualisation. Literally an edge of your seat, heart in your mouth read and some absolutely stellar hurt/comfort fic.

I have had enough of crime by @lamardeuse will I ever get enough of Josh and Eddie gay yoda worsties? Not likely! The author sums this up brilliantly as 'Josh's view of Eddie's journey in 8A and beyond through the gay Olympic sport of competitive brunching.' Delightfully bitchy but also forging a solid foundation of quiet friendship and support, I loved this so much.

I should be pushing daisies by @exhuastedpigeon ooooh this was so healing. With Eddie leaving for Texas, Buck is still in LA and at the 118, and pining. He leans on the people around him, Bobby, Maddie and long calls with Eddie over facetime. All he needs now is a Christmas miracle. The perfect warm hug of a holiday fic.

That's all for now, see you soon for Christmas recs!

[seosaniya]

Reasons to avoid manual reconciliation

approx.. 5% annual revenue is lost in due to error

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for kicking this insane, rowdy couple out of a restaurant?

I (irrelevant) work as a waiter at a nice restaurant. Bit of a high-end establishment. So, earlier tonight, I see two people (M and F - if I had to guess at their ages, I'd say 30s) come in, clearly on a first date. They're dressed real nicely and they seem to be quite compatible. No issue yet. They sit down and make small talk while preparing to order, she mentions her favorite food is fish. The guy enthusiastically says that it's his favorite too; they sound like they're super into each other.

I confess that by then I was watching them a little closely, because I thought they clearly had chemistry and it was real sweet. One of the perks of my job. Anyways, it then turns out they also both like Scooby-Doo. Everything's really going swimmingly, I'm rooting for them in my head. I got invested, okay?

They continue to make small talk. ...It's at this point I hear what her favorite movie is. I'm not going to say what it is here, but she's clearly BATSHIT crazy. The guy seems taken aback, and I'm considering whether to offer him my help, as he starts frantically blinking in my direction. Meanwhile, the lady is still on a tangent about why she likes it so much, none of which is making her seem any less deranged. I'm getting the impression she wants to commit various medical atrocities. I ask the guy if he's uncomfortable because his date is 'a freak' (my exact words, although they perhaps weren't the most polite to use) and he turns me down? Odd.

They then have a really quick-fire reconciliation, and now seem more into each other than ever. I'm getting creeped out, mostly because she's now openly admitted that she wants to recreate certain crimes against science from her favorite movie and he's going along with it. They're planning a wedding, for god's sake. Anyways, skip to now - I could no longer stand to witness their debaucherous insanity, and so point-blank removed them from the premises. Anything to save humanity from whatever the hell that was. Still, I'm a little worried they'll leave bad reviews... AITA?

[thusspoketrish]

Hi! Finally got around to posting this gift fic for the lovely @dryrsheet! An angsty little fic featuring separated Drarry running into each other on Christmas Eve.

Draco x Harry | 15K | Rated M | Postwar | Divorce

Summary: A snowstorm. An Indian restaurant on Brick Lane. A chance meeting on Christmas Eve. After six months of separation, Draco and Harry are forced to confront the love—and the pain—they both thought they'd left behind.

Excerpt:

Six months ago, Draco had threatened to leave for good; when he finally did, Harry let him go, watching him walk away with a blank expression, offering no word of protest as the door closed behind him. Nevertheless, Draco waited, even after the door closed. He was like Pavlov’s bloody dog, damnably waiting for Harry to ring a bell that he never would. Part of him wanted Harry to chase him, to prove that all the pain, all of their screaming matches and halfhearted reconciliations, had truly meant something. That they had been fighting to hold onto something worth fighting for. Or maybe Draco just wanted confirmation that they hadn’t both imagined the love they once claimed to share.

Pathetic, he chided himself. You've given him chance after chance to come after you, and he didn’t. How much more humiliation are you willing to endure?

Read it on AO3 here.

[generalllimaginesss]

prompt: “if you don’t love me just say that”. “i was 15 minutes late!”

with Jamie drysdale if possible <333

I hope you like this!! My first Jamie fic :)) Also I’m about to start working on a few more requests, but keep sending them in! As always, thank you so much for reading!!

••

The clock on the nightstand read the time as 7:15 p.m. a reminder of the absence of a certain someone that should’ve been home already.

Jamie had promised that he wasn’t going to be late for the date, but he was going golfing with a few of his teammates, and well, there’s no telling what events unfolded and what time he would be home.

As you were finishing the small details of your makeup, satisfied with your reflection in the mirror on your vanity, the sound of the door that led to the garage frantically opened and shut. A flash of fair skin and dark hair darted straight past you to the shower in your shared bathroom.

“Jamie…” You gave him a disappointed sigh, listening as he was taking the world’s fastest shower.

“I know, I know,” He called, washing the sweat out his hair.

It felt like he was taking forever, but between the time that he got out of the shower and started to dry his hair with the hair dryer, about 15 minutes passed.

You had already laid his suit on the bed with his shoes and belt to the side so that he wouldn’t have to take the time to decide between the many suits he had.

“Trevor told me to tell you that he’s not sorry for stealing me for the day,” Jamie winked at you, flashing a teasing smile as he began to get dressed, tucking his shirt in, putting his belt on, and tying his shoes.

“Hm, was that before or after you realized you were going to be late,” You asked, spritzing perfume on your wrists and chest.

“Babe,” Jamie whined.

“The next time you see Trevor, tell him he’s the side bitch,” You flashed a sarcastic smile towards Jamie, him grinning in response.

“Is that right,” Jamie quipped, adjusting the watch on his wrist. He snaked an arm around your waist, the smell of your perfume intoxicating him. His lips left a dewy kiss on your temple.

“Better be,” You responded under your breath and began to make your way to the living room, waiting on Jamie to make sure his hair looked decent and completely ignoring his attempt at reconciliation.

The two of you made your way to your favorite fine dining restaurant near your house, an Italian restaurant that had some of the best drinks in town.

“What are you getting?” Jamie asked, his eyes peering at you from behind his menu.

“The usual.”

“And that would be…” Jamie knew he’d have to work a little bit to get out of the dog house for being late.

“If you don’t love me just say it,” You rolled your eyes as you raised your eyebrows as him, holding back the smile that was fighting to show while giving him a hard time.

“Babe, I was 15 minutes late!” His voice rose as he defended himself. He knew you wouldn’t be able to drop this until he made it up to you in some way.

“I’m just teasing, you goob. I know you love me,” You thumped his forehead, him rubbing it in response.

“I love you so very much,” He took your hand and tangled your legs underneath the table.

“More than golf?” You questioned.

He pretended to think about it, resulting in a kick to his shin, but he quickly responded.

“Golf’s got nothing against my girl,” He smiled, kissing the top of your hand.

He discretely rubbed his shin, but he’d take a million kicks to the shin if it meant he could tell you how much he loved you all the time.

[alwaysshipping1]

The Bear S4 wishlist

Sydney rediscovering her passion and joy for cooking

Syd is my girl, and she deserves a win! It was heartbreaking to see hopelessness slowly take hold of her in S3. She gives so much to everyone around her. She has a hard time relying on others, but we saw her try in S2. Will she ever get to receive good things in return?

More focus on Syd’s character. A Syd-centric episode!

Let’s dive deeper into her story. A tattoo reveal? Yes, please! Someone calling her out on how guarded she is? Absolutely! Just give me more Syd, period!

Carmy to fight for Syd to stay!

Show her you care with actions! Words are pretty but meaningless when empty promises follow.

Carmy finding his joy in cooking with someone again—specifically Sydney, ofc!

Carmy has a lot of personal work to do before that can truly happen. But in S1, we saw how much he enjoyed cooking with Mikey. I can’t fathom Carmy stepping away from cooking altogether.

No Claire-Carmy endgame

There are so many red flags in this relationship. A reconciliation would feel reductive to Carmy’s narrative arc. With all the Donna-Claire parallels many have written about, it just wouldn’t be believable to me.

A paupiette of Hamachi discussion!

I refuse to believe the writers inserted that beautiful, meaningful moment just to completely ignore its significance. I NEED a scene where Sydcarmy revisit this!

Sydcarmy in any way, shape or form

If S4 is the last, I’d obviously prefer full-blown Sydcarmy, but I’m not categorically opposed to a subtle ending—the suggestion that they’ll find each other in the future (even though it’s not my preference and I’d side-eye the writers big time). Perhaps Sydcarmy taking space before finding each other and coming together for real. Imagine Syd being the CDC or the EC of her own restaurant in a foreign country (say Japan, Sydcarmy shippers know!), years down the line, and Carmy surprising her. A simple yet powerful moment: hands grazing, shoulders brushing, eyes sparkling with THAT stare, the heavily implied suggestion of something more. No more boss/employee dynamic, just equals.

A redo on the SydCarmy food tour that never happened!

I have hope the writers will circle back to it, but I’m still pissed about this missed opportunity.

Leaning into found family theme

S3 had so many characters feeling stuck. A recurring theme in the show is found family. Let’s lean into that! Develop it properly. What grows together goes together, right?

Less Faks and less Claire, please!

Carmy, apologize to the woman who told you to never apologize. Get it over with and move on. Close that chapter of your life. The next one is glorious!

[dyaz-stories]

'You smell nice' — Day one of Inukag Fluff Week

Just a fun lil one-shot for day one of @inukagfluffweek! There is a hint of background SessKagu too because I love them.

Mild warning for Inuyasha's potty mouth and that should be it.

Public transportation was the bane of Inuyasha’s existence.

First of all, whichever human had come up with the idea that half the population would stuff themselves into tin cans to get themselves to and from places, following the same precise and regular schedules every single day, deserved a trip straight to hell. It was easily the dumbest fucking concept known to man, and no self-respecting demon would have agreed to it.

Then there was the fact that there were people everywhere on public transportation, and man, did Inuyasha hate people. Gross, stupid bastards with no self-awareness and no regard for others. There were the students who’d bump into you without even noticing, the women recounting their day far too loud over the phone, and, the worst of them all, the gaggle of salarymen drunk off their asses after some reunion at work. Those ones were rude, entitled, clumsy, and, what was by far the biggest offense, they fucking stank.

And that part was what took the public transport experience from shitty to downright awful. The smells. Inuyasha was no fan of cities in general, their pollution, the sheer amount of things everywhere, whether restaurants, stores, or, of course, public toilets, and, well, the people. It wasn’t always the lack of hygiene, though that was an issue for sure, but the sweat after a day of work, the deodorants, the perfumes, they all came together to produce the foulest of stenches. He hated it here.

The train veered sharply to the left, and Inuyasha tightened his hold on the overhead bar he favored using. Fewer human hands had grabbed it, and since his height meant he had no issue reaching for it, he preferred that to other solutions. In front of him, Kagome hadn’t been so lucky, standing right against the door with nothing to hold onto. With a squeak, she stumbled backwards on her kitten heels, her back colliding with Inuyasha’s broad chest — not that there was really anywhere else for her to go, with how tightly packed the train was.

His free hand closed around her hip, stabilizing her. It came naturally, just instinct, no need to think about it or how nicely her body slotted against his.

She tilted her head back, pretty eyes looking up to him pleadingly.

“Sorry, Inuyasha,” she apologized, lips forming a cute pout.

“You’re good,” he replied, voice gruff. He sent a nasty look to the man on her right, who’d bumped into her. People usually steered clear of him, so the closer she was to him, the better. “You’re getting off at the next stop, right?”

“Yeah,” she beamed, and as always, he marveled at how easy it seemed to be for her to smile and distance herself from the mess of the world around her. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shut down the noises, the smells, the flashes of people’s screens — well, unless he had her to focus on. “I can’t wait to get home.” An eyeroll. “Today was the worst.”

A smirk tugged at his lips.

“Really? You didn’t enjoy Kagura making a scene?”

He knew he had. His sister-in-law was probably his favorite person in the family, actually, with his nieces a close second, and watching her strut into her asshole husband’s office to yell at him about him cancelling their anniversary dinner had absolutely made his day. They could never stay mad at each other very long, so he was sure a very expensive reconciliation was coming, but he’d had his fun for sure.

“No, I like Kagura,” Kagome replied. “But I got cornered by Hojo at the coffee machine and he wouldn’t stop talking about some miracle diet he thinks would cure my allergies and it took me forever to free myself.”

“Want me to do something about that? He never bothers me with that shit.”

“That’s because you terrify him,” she sighed, “so no, that’s not necessary, don’t—” Another turn, but this time he kept her pressed against him, clawed hand on her waist, and her voice barely wavered. “—worry about it. And thanks for that, Inuyasha.”

A knot formed in his throat at the way she leaned back into him without hesitation. He swallowed around it. Where most people cowered away from the hanyo, Kagome had never acted like he was a threat. Sometimes, he felt she was even a little too trusting. Made him feel and think all sorts of things he wasn’t very proud of.

“’s nothing.”

From how he stood behind her, he couldn’t help but catch her scent, especially when she moved and her hair were right under his nose.

And, fuck, she was a breath of fresh air. He’d known that from the first day she’d strolled into the office, of course, gust of wind blowing through the open door and sending her smell throughout the whole office. He didn’t know what it was, if it was the reiki he could guess at under her skin, that gave it such a pleasant flavor. Either way, it could become overwhelming even in the wide open space. Here, on the other hand, it was the perfect distraction against everything else, and it took more willpower than he’d like to admit to not just sniff at her.

“Everything okay?” she asked, catching him off guard, her big inquisitive eyes staring up at him.

“Yeah, it’s—” Damn it, he’d known she was always noticing things no one else cared about. “That’s— You smell nice,” he blurted out at last, and immediately, he wished he could slap himself in the face. What a fucking weirdo. Turned out, everyone who had told him his mouth was too big for his own good, usually before they got their asses handed to them, had been right. Couldn’t he have kept it shut this one damn time?

“Oh,” Kagome said, and her expression turned thoughtful. He waited for the inevitable judgment to fall down. “I read that demons often find perfumes difficult to deal with, so I haven’t worn any since getting hired at Taisho Inc. Is that really better for you?”

There was the knot again, but this time it wasn’t embarrassment, and rather another, deeper emotion. Of course she’d pay attention to that kind of stuff.

“Yeah, it is,” he answered, clearing his throat. “Makes it hard to be around too many people.”

“That’s good to know,” she said with a nod. “Let me know if I can do other things to help you, alright?”

He would not be telling her anything about the thoughts that were running through his mind at her proposal. Nuh-huh.

“That’s my stop,” she grinned up at him, grabbing the hand at her waist and squeezing it gently in hers. “Thank you again, Inuyasha. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

She waved at him, and a second later, she was lost in the crowd, and his world was just a little darker, duller, blander. He let his hand fall back to his side, flexing it reflexively as if to remember how it had felt, touching her.

Keh. He couldn’t believe she was making him look forward to another day in the office.

As a lot of you know, it's been ages since I last wrote for this pairing that's still near and dear to my heart, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! Don't hesitate to scream at me about it in the tags, in the reblogs, in my askbox... anywhere your heart desires lol. Thank you for reading!