#there so many though... and i have even more ideas for new ones like...

[uncle-fruity]

I love the new year! It's my favorite holiday, and people who say that nothing changes or resolutions don't work or that everything is bad so there's no point in celebrating miss the point, imo. It's about getting through another year! It's about progressing and surviving and setting intentions for the new year. But too many people think of resolutions and new beginnings as things that have to be Big and Challenging for them to be meaningful, but that's really not how change works.

For the last several years, I've done what I call Resolution Bingo. I think of 24 things that range from Easily Doable to A Challenge and write them out on a bingo sheet. (Free space is always just Stay Alive.) The idea isn't to do all 24, but rather to try to get one or more bingos throughout the year.

I have never actually gotten a bingo (though I've come very close) but it doesn't matter. The point of Resolution Bingo is to put intention out there for the new year. I think of things I want to do or learn or get back into and I put them on my bingo sheet. Because of Resolution Bingo, I've gone to see more live shows than I used to. I've done more art projects & followed through with them. I've visited new places & had new adventures. I've learned new skills in cooking, needlework, and many other areas of interest. I have made both big and small positive steps for my life because of the resolutions I set at the beginning of the year.

So my advice is to think of resolutions as less of a major life change that you want to dive into -- take the stress off. You can make smaller resolutions that help with your bigger goals. I always tell people who decide they also want to do Resolution Bingo that they shouldn't put anything like, "Run daily/weekly," because as soon as you miss a day, it can demotivate you into stopping all together. Or, if you keep it going, you might feel guilty about marking it off on your bingo sheet at the end of the year, even if you still did a lot of work towards the goal. So, usually, I recommend setting realistic goals that get you going. Stuff like "run a 5k" or "run 3 different running trails" or you know... whatever is reasonable for you and has a tangible beginning & end. If you start working towards something fun or rewarding, you will still be doing the running you set out to do. Going for a daily run is good and all, but it's a slog if you don't know what you're working towards or if you don't allow yourself to rest on days that you really need rest.

My resolutions this year include things like getting a piercing, reading 50 academic papers, visiting all the libraries in my city, learning to place all the countries on a world map from memory, learning 3 new recipes, go somewhere new, complete 1 sewing project... Stuff that will take time and energy, but which will improve my life in ways I want to see it improve. If I don't set some goals -- even fun ones like going to a new museum -- I will just forget to do anything exciting or new & get lost in the depressing Grind of Life. And if you're lost in the depressing Grind of Life, remember to get outside and so anything at all that sounds appealing or productive or fun. It really helps to connect with the good things in life; makes you stronger and more stable in the long run.

I'm coming out as a new year's enjoyer. "Oh you will never stick to these goals" "nothing is really different between one day and the next" "why celebrate the bad years" because I want to!!! Because I love endings and beginnings and making lists!! I love the concept of starting the year by partying I love the drama of kissing someone at midnight I love the one time of the year when it is cold I love starting a new calendar and I love cheering for no reason

[rootedinrevisions]

Worth More than Gold

SUMMARY: Glen Powell has asked you, his long-time friend and secret crush to be his date to the Golden Globes. The evening is filled with glitz, glamour, and the intoxicating spark of possibilities - both on the red carpet and behind the scene. And at the end of the day Glen may not have won the Golden Globe, but he just might have won something better—you.

A/N: Glen's look at the Golden Globes did things to me and gave me so many ideas. This will probably be the last fic I do for the GG and I'm going to try to get back on track with my WIPs and Requests.

As always I'd love to hear what you guys think! I love seeing your comments and reblogs! I seriously smile and get all giddy like a little kid when I get a notification from you guys so please let me know what I think.

WORD COUNT: 10.8k

TAGS: In Comments.

The hotel room was a whirlwind of chaos, a perfect reflection of Glen’s pre-event energy. The plush carpet was littered with tissue paper from a last-minute gift delivery, a shoe box sat abandoned near the bed, and the sleek black tie Glen had decided to forego tonight was somehow draped over a lampshade.

Glen himself was in the middle of the room, pacing in socks and dress pants, his phone pressed to his ear. “Listen, I’m just saying, Texas football isn’t a sport—it’s a religion,” he declared, his Texas drawl warming the edges of his words. “And if the Longhorns take the game against Ohio State this week, we’re coming for that national title.”

He paused, evidently listening to the journalist on the other end of the call, then grinned as he gestured animatedly with his free hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know you want to talk about the nomination. But did you see last weekend’s game? That last play in the second overtime?”

Across the room, you sat curled on the couch, scrolling through your phone but only half-paying attention to the screen. Watching Glen charm his way through an interview about his career or recent projects while managing to somehow steer the conversation to Texas football was nothing new.

“Cufflinks,” said Warren, the stylist ensuring Glen looked red-carpet ready. Warren stood to the side, arms crossed with the patience of someone who’d dealt with a dozen “Glen Powells” before.

“They’re in the pocket of your tux,” you called without looking up, your voice laced with playful exasperation. “Right where I told you I put them earlier.”

Glen froze mid-gesture, patting down his pants pocket first before moving to his jacket. When his fingers closed around the cufflinks, he shot you a sheepish grin. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” he mouthed, before turning his attention back to his call. “Listen, I gotta wrap this up. Can I call you tomorrow and we’ll finish this?” he asked the journalist.

With that, he hung up and turned to the room, raking a hand through his neatly-styled hair. “You believe this?” He said, grinning as he pocketed his phone. “I’m on deadline and trying to get out the door for one of the biggest nights of my life. And GQ wants to talk about…wardrobe and clothes and who I’m wearing.”

Warren arched a brow, adjusting the velvet Armani jacket on its hanger. “Wardrobe is why I’m here, Glen,” he said with a grin. “Now, if you could refrain from wrinkling this masterpiece, we might actually get you to the event looking like a winner.”

You snorted, rising from the couch. “Poor you,” you teased, brushing imaginary lint off your own shirt. “Must be so hard being adored by millions while wearing designer clothes.”

Glen rolled his eyes and snorted, stepping closer as the stylist fussed with his cummerbund. “Hey, I’m counting on you to keep me sane tonight,” he said, half-serious as he began to tug at the cuffs of his shirt. “You’re my buffer.”

“Buffer?” you repeated, arching a brow. “That’s what I’m here for? Not moral support—just as a human barrier between you and Hollywood?”

“Exactly,” he deadpanned, his grin widening. “You’re overqualified for the job, though.”

You stepped forward, brushing imaginary lint from his shirt, your fingers moving with practiced ease over the slick fabric. Glen watched you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Okay, be honest,” he said, tilting his chin slightly. “One button or two undone? What’s the vibe tonight?”

You paused, letting your gaze drop to the open collar of his shirt, catching a glimpse of the chest hair peeking out.

“One,” you said decisively, reaching up to fasten the second button. “Two buttons undone is too much chest hair. You’re going to a red carpet, not auditioning for a ‘70s cop show.”

He laughed, the rich sound filling the room as he placed his hands on his hips. “Hey, my chest hair is a crowd-pleaser,” he countered, feigning offense. “You don’t know how many compliments I’ve gotten on this chest.”

You rolled your eyes, holding back a laugh. “Please never say that to me again.”

He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. “Admit it. You’re just jealous you can’t pull this off.”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting the collar of his shirt with a playful tug. “Oh, please. If I wanted to show off chest hair, I’d buy a faux-fur vest and call it a day.”

“Savage,” he said, clutching his chest as though you’d wounded him. “You’ve got jokes tonight, huh?”

“Somebody has to keep your ego in check,” you replied, stepping back to inspect your work. “And you make it so easy.”

Glen chuckled, shaking his head as he tugged at the cuffs of his shirt. “Well, I’ll have you know, Warren said I was rocking this look,” he said, gesturing toward the stylist, who was busy folding tissue paper into one of the garment bags.

Warren didn’t even look up. “Warren also said to stop touching your shirt or you’ll wrinkle it,” he replied dryly, earning a snort from you and an exaggerated groan from Glen.

“Fine,” Glen said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “No more touching. But if I get to the carpet and I’m not turning heads, I’m blaming you.”

“Oh, you’ll turn heads,” you said, crossing your arms and giving him a once-over. “If not for the suit, then definitely for whatever ridiculous sound bite you give on the carpet. You’re physically incapable of being boring, remember?”

He grinned, stepping closer so the space between you was almost nonexistent. “Is that a compliment?” he asked, his voice dipping slightly.

You tilted your head, refusing to let him win. “Don’t get used to it, Cowboy.”

“Ah, there it is,” he said, leaning back with a laugh. “The nickname. I knew it was coming.”

You shrugged. “If the boots fit…”

Glen slid the custom velvet Armani tux jacket over his broad shoulders, the deep midnight-black fabric catching the light in subtle, luxurious waves. He tugged at the lapels, ensuring everything was sitting perfectly, before stepping back with an air of casual confidence.

“Well?” he asked, doing a quick spin on his heels, arms spread out theatrically. “What do you think? Too much? Not enough?”

You leaned back slightly, arms crossed, pretending to appraise him critically, but your expression betrayed you. Your eyes swept over him, taking in every detail—the sharp tailoring that hugged his frame perfectly, the structured cut of the jacket emphasizing his frame, and the way the silk shirt beneath hinted at the faintest trail of chest hair.

The stylist had done a remarkable job on his hair, taming the usual tousled locks into something sleek yet effortlessly natural. And the stubble—God, the stubble. He hadn’t bothered to shave completely, leaving just enough scruff to lend him a rugged edge that, if you were honest, made him look even more attractive.

The all-black ensemble was a bold choice, but it worked. The mix of textures—the smooth silk of the shirt, the luxurious velvet of the jacket, and the matte sheen of the tailored trousers—created a look that was polished yet unmistakably Glen.

“You clean up nice,” you finally said, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you took him in from head to toe. “I mean, you almost look like a proper gentleman.”

“Almost?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow as he turned back toward the mirror, pretending to check himself out.

“Well, the stubble kind of ruins the whole gentleman thing,” you quipped, biting back a laugh.

“Ruin it?” Glen turned to face you again, his voice dripping with mock offense. “The stubble is the pièce de résistance, thank you very much.” He ran a hand over his jaw, grinning when he saw the way your gaze briefly followed the movement.

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your composure. “Sure it is. But seriously, you look good, Glen. The best I’ve seen you look in a while.”

For a moment, his grin softened, and his eyes caught yours. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, more sincerely this time. “You’re going to knock ‘em dead tonight.”

He held your gaze for a beat longer than usual, something unreadable flickering in his expression before he broke the moment with his signature charm. “Well, I have to. You’re the one who’ll have to be seen with me all night. Can’t embarrass you on your first red carpet.”

You glanced at the clock and froze. Less than an hour until you were supposed to be ready and out the door. Helping Glen finish getting ready had been fun—maybe a little too fun, you realized now, as time ticked away faster than you’d expected.

“I need to go get ready,” you said abruptly, stepping back and pointing toward the door.

Glen smirked, his hands casually adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “Go on, Cinderella. Clock’s ticking.”

Without another word, you bolted for your room next door, already running through a mental checklist of what needed to happen to make yourself red carpet-ready in under an hour. Once inside, you kicked the door shut behind you and headed straight for the bathroom. Flicking on the light, you stared at your reflection in the mirror.

Okay. Hair. Makeup. Dress. You could do this. Right?

You pulled your hair loose from the lazy ponytail it had been in all day, raking your fingers through it and trying to decide if it would look better up or down. Your eyes darted to the neckline of the dress still hanging on the back of the closet door, but you didn’t have time to figure out how to make everything match. You groaned, pressing your hands to your face.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“Hello?” you called out, cautiously heading toward the door and cracking it open.

Standing there were two members of Glen’s glam squad—one holding a bag of makeup brushes and palettes, the other with a small suitcase of hair tools.

“Mr. Powell asked us to check on you,” the makeup artist said with a kind smile. “He thought you might be running behind.”

You blinked at them, momentarily speechless. “He... sent you?”

The hairstylist nodded. “He figured you might need a little help. Mind if we come in?”

You stepped aside to let them in, still processing Glen’s uncanny ability to predict you’d be panicking. “Sorry about the mess,” you admitted, glancing at the clock again. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Don’t worry,” the makeup artist said, already setting up her supplies on the bathroom counter. “We’ve got this. Can we see the dress? It’ll help us figure out the best look for you.”

You grabbed the garment bag from the closet and unzipped it, revealing the dress inside. You’d picked it out weeks ago, but standing there now, you suddenly second-guessed everything about it.

The hairstylist tilted his head thoughtfully, taking in the neckline and cut. “With this neckline, I’d suggest pulling your hair up—something elegant but not overdone. It’ll show off your shoulders and collarbone beautifully.”

You nodded, trusting his expertise. “That sounds perfect.”

“And for makeup,” the other stylist added, “we’ll keep it timeless—focus on your eyes, a little shimmer, and a soft lip. Nothing too bold, just enough to complement the dress and the hair.”

“Let’s do it,” you said, exhaling as you sat down.

With practiced efficiency, they got to work. The hairstylist began gathering your hair into an elegant style that framed your face while showcasing the neckline of the dress. Meanwhile, the makeup artist brushed soft gold tones onto your lids, added a touch of liner to define your eyes, and blended everything seamlessly. A quick swipe of lipstick finished the look.

You watched the transformation in the mirror, the tension slowly melting from your shoulders. By the time they stepped back to admire their handiwork, you felt like a completely different person.

“Done in thirty minutes, just like we promised,” the hairstylist said with a grin.

You stood, giving them both a grateful smile. “Thank you. Seriously, I wouldn’t have made it without you—or Glen, apparently.”

The makeup artist laughed. “He seemed pretty confident you’d need backup. Smart guy.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, thinking about his effortless charm and how much he looked out for you. “He really is.”

After the hairstylist and makeup artist left, you stood in front of the full-length mirror, a deep breath escaping your lips. You could do this.

You reached for the dress, still hanging from its garment bag, and carefully unzipped it. The soft fabric slid through your fingers as you pulled it off the hanger, feeling a flutter of nerves as you held it up in front of you.

The dress was simple, yet elegant, hugging every curve in a way that made you second-guess your choice. But it was beautiful.

With your heart racing a little, you slipped the dress on. You paused to glance at the mirror as you tugged the fabric up your body, hoping everything would fall into place.

But it didn’t.

The zipper snagged halfway up your lower back. You tugged a little harder, but it didn’t budge. Panic settled in your chest. You didn’t want to rip the fabric or make a scene, but there was no way to finish getting ready if you couldn’t zip the dress.

Your fingers fumbled for your phone, dialing Glen’s number before you could think twice. The seconds ticked by slowly, and your nerves only heightened with every ring.

“Hey, it’s me,” you said the moment he answered. Your voice trembled slightly despite your best efforts to sound calm. “I need help. The zipper on the dress is stuck, and I can’t get it up.”

“Don’t worry, I’m coming right over,” Glen’s voice was calm, reassuring. You could almost hear the smile in his tone.

The call ended quickly, and before you knew it, there was a soft knock at your door. You quickly pulled the front of the dress to your chest and peeked out, your eyes meeting Glen’s as you opened the door just a crack. His presence was as commanding as ever, but now, standing there, you felt exposed.

“Hey,” you greeted him, offering a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he said softly, raising an eyebrow. “Need a hand?”

You nodded, opening the door wider for him to step inside.

As he entered, you turned, giving him full view of the situation. The dress clung tightly to your body, and you were sure your back looked exposed in the tight fabric. A slight blush crept across your cheeks as your fingers instinctively tugged at the fabric.

“Relax,” Glen said, his tone warm and teasing. He moved behind you and gently grasped the zipper. 

After a few tugs and a bit of effort, he managed to get it unstuck, smoothly pulling it the rest of the way up. The dress fit perfectly once it was zipped all the way.

Glen stepped back with a satisfied nod, patting your hip gently. “All good. You’re all set now.”

You took a deep breath, your nerves slightly eased but still there. With a nervous smile, you smoothed the front of your dress down, trying to calm yourself before glancing back at him.

“Do I look okay?” you asked quietly, suddenly unsure of how you appeared.

Glen gave you a slow once-over, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer than you expected. Then, his lips curved into a soft smile.

“You look amazing,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “Seriously. You’re going to steal the show tonight.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the tension in your chest easing. Glen’s words meant more than you realized, and as he gave you that smile, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

Once you were fully ready, feeling the weight of the evening ahead, Glen offered you a reassuring smile as he adjusted his jacket one last time. He gave you a soft nod, signaling that it was time to go.

Together, you left the suite, the sound of your heels echoing in the hallway as you walked side by side toward the elevator. Glen pressed the button, standing close enough to be a silent but steady presence. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he moved—like he was born to own every room he entered, even though his demeanor was always so grounded.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Glen stepped aside, letting you enter first. When you reached the lobby, the bustle of the hotel faded in comparison to the calm, quiet space Glen seemed to create around the two of you. He was the kind of person who moved with purpose, but never rushed—always thoughtful, always present.

As you made your way toward the entrance, he gave a quiet wave to a few people who greeted him, but he kept his focus on you, his hand close to your lower back as if guiding you through the crowd.

Outside, a sleek black car waited by the curb, the driver standing at attention. Glen held the door open for you with a courteous nod, his hand outstretched to assist you into the back seat.

You smiled, appreciating the little things—his attention to detail, the way he never made you feel like you were inconveniencing him. You slid into the seat, and as you did, Glen quickly followed, settling next to you with a quiet grace that was all him.

The driver closed the door, and the car began to move smoothly through the streets, the city lights reflecting off the tinted windows. The buzz of the evening began to settle into a comfortable rhythm, and Glen turned his attention to you with a soft look.

“You ready for this?” he asked, his tone light but sincere. He glanced down at your dress, the slight gleam in his eyes making you feel all the more seen. “You’re gonna turn heads tonight, no doubt about it.”

You smiled, trying to play it cool, but his words still made your stomach flutter. “I’m ready,” you said, your voice steady. 

The car glided through the streets, the hum of the engine and the soft clink of the streetlights outside giving you a sense of distance from the chaos of the night ahead. Your fingers nervously drummed on the fabric of your dress, your gaze flickering from the passing city lights to the reflection of yourself in the window.

Glen noticed the subtle tension in your posture and the way your fingers twitched, like they couldn’t quite settle. His sharp eyes, attuned to every little shift in your mood, moved over to you. He shifted closer, his hand reaching across the space between you with ease, brushing lightly over your fingers before gently taking your hand in his.

"You're going to be fine," he said, his voice low, teasing but gentle, as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. His thumb brushed the back of your hand, smoothing away any remnants of tension. "Just smile and wave, Penguin. You’ve got this."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the nickname, the warmth of his hand in yours bringing a little bit of ease. “Penguin?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow, feeling the tension in your shoulders release with that soft chuckle.

He grinned at you, the kind of smile that melted any nervous edge. “Yeah, Penguin. You know—Madagascar. Smile and wave boys. Smile and wave.” He gave your hand a playful tug, the humor in his eyes lighting up.

You shook your head, but the tension you’d carried with you slowly began to melt. Glen had that way about him—without even trying, he made things feel easy, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. His confidence was infectious, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that you could pull this off.

The car hit a smooth turn, the soft hum of the tires filling the silence. You glanced at Glen, his easy grin still in place, his hand steady in yours. There was something about his presence—something grounding, comforting. Without thinking, you leaned your head against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh as you let the last bits of tension drain away.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Glen glanced down at you, his expression softening. He didn’t move, didn’t shift away—he just stayed still, letting you rest there. His thumb continued its soothing motion across the back of your hand, and he tilted his head slightly toward yours.

"Anytime," he replied, his voice warm and steady. "You know I’ve got you."

For a moment, the world outside the car faded away. It was just the two of you, a quiet moment that reminded you why Glen was your best friend. His support, his calm energy—it was all you needed to take a deep breath and believe in yourself again.

As the car slowed to a stop, signaling your arrival at the red carpet, you felt ready. Maybe it was the way Glen always knew how to bring you back to yourself, or maybe it was just the fact that he was there beside you, exactly where he always seemed to be when you needed him most.

You stole a quick glance at Glen, catching the way his gaze softened as he looked back at you, his hand still comfortably wrapped around yours.

“Hey,” he said, the tone shifting just a little, serious but with the same undertone of care. “You’re gonna be great, okay? And if you need me to do anything, I’m right here. Just... be you.”

Glen gave your hand one last squeeze, a reassuring pressure that grounded you, and you suddenly felt like you could take on the world.

The driver opened the door, and the bright lights of the red carpet began to stretch ahead of you, already swirling with flashes and faces, the hum of excitement palpable in the air. Glen leaned toward you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing the smooth skin of your neck.

“You’re gonna shine tonight,” he said quietly, his voice filled with confidence, making you believe it for the first time.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, then flashed him a grin. “Thanks, Glen.”

He winked. “Anytime, Penguin. Let’s go make some memories.”

With that, you stepped out of the car, Glen’s hand still firmly in yours, ready to face whatever the night would bring—with him by your side, you felt ready for anything.

The roar of the red carpet hit you the moment you stepped out of the car. A wall of flashing lights and the constant hum of voices calling out names created a dizzying cacophony. For a second, you froze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The chaos seemed endless, but Glen’s steady hand on the small of your back was the anchor you needed.

“Stay close,” he said quietly, his voice warm and reassuring, almost lost in the noise. He guided you forward with a gentle pressure, his touch never faltering.

Reporters shouted his name, cameras clicked furiously, and fans called out from behind the barriers. Glen’s demeanor shifted effortlessly, the easy confidence you admired about him coming to life under the scrutiny. But even as he navigated the chaos like a pro, his focus never strayed far from you.

When a particularly eager photographer stepped too close, Glen instinctively pulled you in, lacing your arm through his. The motion was protective yet natural, as though he’d done it a thousand times before.

He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing your ear as he whispered, “You doing okay so far?”

You nodded, the nerves still simmering but far less overwhelming with Glen beside you. “Yeah. It’s just... a lot.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers giving your arm a light squeeze. “It’s always a lot. Just keep smiling and don’t trip. I’ve got the rest covered.”

Moments later, you were ushered to the line of reporters waiting for interviews. Glen kept you close, his hand returning to your back as he led you toward the first microphone. The journalist’s attention immediately shifted to him, questions about his latest project firing off one after another.

“This is Glen Powell, looking dapper as always! Who’s your stunning guest tonight?” one reporter asked, her eyes flicking to you with interest.

Glen grinned, that signature charm lighting up his face. “This,” he said, his voice full of pride, “is the best friend who keeps me sane.” He glanced at you, his expression softening as if to emphasize his words.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as the reporter laughed. “Keeping Glen Powell on track sounds like a full-time job!”

“You have no idea,” you replied, finding your confidence in the moment. Glen chuckled beside you, his presence like a shield against the overwhelming spotlight.

The interviews continued, with Glen effortlessly steering the attention toward his projects while making sure you felt included. Whenever he wasn’t speaking, his hand either rested lightly on your back or your arm stayed looped through his. The gesture was subtle, but it kept you grounded, a quiet reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

In a rare lull between interviews, Glen turned to you, his expression softening as the frenzy of the red carpet seemed to momentarily fade into the background.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, almost drowned out by the noise around you.

You looked up at him, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of the evening. 

“Hey,” you replied, a little breathless.

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of your updo from your face, his fingers lingering just slightly longer than necessary. His touch was light, yet it sent a wave of warmth through you. His eyes searched yours, the usual glint of mischief replaced with something quieter, more sincere. “You okay?”

The simple question held weight, as if he wasn’t just asking about the moment but something deeper. You nodded, your voice catching slightly as you said, “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, his hand dropping back to his side, though the warmth of his touch seemed to linger. “Good. Can’t have my Penguin falling apart on me now.”

The moment hung between you, brief but charged with an unspoken connection that neither of you dared to address. Then the chaos of the red carpet surged back to life, pulling you both out of it.

“Ready to keep going?” Glen asked, his tone light again as he gestured toward the next line of reporters.

You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders, and smiled. “Let’s do it.”

With your arm resting gently on his, Glen led you forward, his confidence bolstering your own. And as the night unfolded, you realized that no matter how overwhelming the evening became, you’d be okay—with Glen by your side.

The ballroom was a masterpiece of elegance, bathed in soft, golden light with tables draped in white linens and adorned with extravagant floral centerpieces. Each table bore name cards in ornate calligraphy, indicating an impressive roster of directors, actors, and other Hollywood heavyweights.

Glen pulled out your chair for you before taking his seat beside you, leaning in briefly to whisper, “You’ve got this. Just be yourself.”

You looked at Glen with a soft smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Powell.”

Within moments, the table began filling with familiar faces. To your left sat Richard Linklater himself, his unassuming charm making you feel more at ease than you’d expected. Across the table, a notable actress you’d only ever seen on-screen chatted animatedly with Glen, who was effortlessly charismatic as always.

“Glen,” Richard said with a warm smile, his Texan drawl coming through as he gestured toward you. “You didn’t introduce me to your lovely guest.”

Glen straightened, the corners of his mouth tilting upward as he turned to you. “Richard, this is the best friend who keeps me sane—and who’s also had to deal with my Dazed and Confused impression far too many times.”

You laughed lightly, shaking Richard’s hand. “It’s true. If I hear him say, ��Alright, alright, alright,’ one more time, I might disown him.”

Richard chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “A classic never dies, though, does it?”

“I suppose not,” you conceded with a grin.

The quick banter caught the attention of the others at the table, who joined the conversation with playful remarks of their own. You held your own with ease, even managing to get a genuine laugh out of the actress across from you after a comment about the absurdity of some press junket questions.

Glen, sitting beside you, watched the exchanges with a kind of quiet pride, his gaze lingering on you whenever you spoke. At one point, he leaned closer, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re killing it. Remind me again—why am I not bringing you to all of these things?”

You smirked, taking a sip of water to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “Because you know I’d upstage you.”

“Touché,” he said with a soft laugh, nudging your shoulder playfully.

As the dinner continued, Glen made sure to include you in every conversation, subtly steering the spotlight toward you when someone asked about his current projects. You found yourself talking about Glen’s work ethic and how he somehow managed to juggle it all without losing his sense of humor.

“Sounds like you know him pretty well,” Richard observed with a knowing smile.

“I sure hope so after I’ve put up with him for all these years,” you replied, glancing at Glen. “Someone has to keep him humble.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Glen shook his head, though the unmistakable warmth in his expression betrayed how much he loved every second of it.

When dessert was served—an artfully plated creation that was almost too pretty to eat—Glen leaned in once more, his tone playful but sincere. “See? Told you you’d be great.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, a smile tugging at your lips. “Not bad for someone who almost didn’t make it out of the hotel room.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice softening, “you belong here, you know.”

The weight of his words settled between you, a quiet affirmation that carried more meaning than the playful banter that had preceded it. You nodded, the nerves you’d been holding onto finally beginning to ease.

The awards show was nothing short of spectacular, a seamless blend of glamour, artistry, and showmanship. The host kept the audience entertained with clever quips and light-hearted jokes, while presenters took the stage to announce the winners in a variety of categories. The room buzzed with energy as names were called, winners delivered heartfelt speeches, and cameras panned over the crowd of celebrities.

Sitting beside Glen, you couldn’t help but notice how his leg bounced slightly under the table, a telltale sign of his nerves. Despite the outward appearance of ease he projected, you knew him well enough to see through it. Every now and then, his hand brushed his jawline, the slight stubble catching the light, as he glanced at the stage and back at you with an almost imperceptible smile.

You leaned closer to him during a quieter moment. “How are you holding up?” you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the applause filling the room.

“Better with you here,” he replied, his tone casual but sincere. The weight of his words sent a gentle warmth through you, grounding you as much as it did him.

As the night progressed, Glen laughed at the host’s jokes and applauded the winners, though you could feel his anticipation building as his category grew closer. 

The glitz and chatter around you seemed to blur as the presenter finally took the stage to announce the nominees for Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture - Musical or Comedy. 

You felt Glen shift in his seat, his back straightening as his name was called alongside the other nominees. His hand brushed his thigh, and you noticed him take a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out slowly. Instinctively, you leaned in just enough so your shoulder lightly pressed against his, a silent reminder that you were right there with him.

The presenter opened the envelope, the seconds stretching impossibly long. “And the award goes to... Sebastian Stan!”

The room erupted into applause as Sebastian rose from his seat, making his way to the stage. You clapped along with everyone else, but the knot of disappointment in your chest was impossible to ignore. Letting out a small, defeated breath, you glanced over at Glen.

He was smiling politely, clapping for Sebastian, but you saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. The kind of flicker only someone who truly knew him could catch. Others at the table offered their own words of encouragement, but Glen only nodded politely, his attention still half-focused on the stage.

Without thinking, you leaned closer, your voice low and meant just for him. “You’re still the most talented guy in the room.”

You reached over, resting your hand gently on his knee under the table, offering him the kind of comfort words alone couldn’t provide. For a moment, his gaze dropped to your hand, then back to your face. A small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his hand briefly covered yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of meaning.

Throughout the rest of the show, Glen leaned into your presence, subtly relying on you to keep him grounded. You noticed the way his body gradually relaxed, the tension in his shoulders easing as the night continued. 

When another winner gave a particularly heartfelt speech, Glen turned to you with a quiet chuckle. “At least I don’t have to worry about tripping on the way to the stage.”

You laughed softly, the sound drawing out a more genuine smile from him. “See? There’s always a silver lining.”

By the time the final award was announced and the audience began filtering out of the theater, Glen seemed more at ease. 

As the two of you stood to leave, he placed a hand on your back, guiding you through the crowd. “Thanks for keeping me sane tonight,” he said, his voice low but warm.

“Always,” you replied with a smile, feeling the unspoken connection between you deepen as the evening came to a close.

The after-party was everything you expected it to be: glamorous, extravagant, and a little overwhelming. The main Golden Globes after-party felt less like a celebration and more like a carefully orchestrated networking event. The room was packed with A-list celebrities, producers, directors, and journalists, each armed with a drink in one hand and a carefully curated smile.

Music thumped in the background, but it barely registered over the hum of conversations and the clinking of champagne glasses. Glen stayed by your side at first, introducing you to a few people here and there. You exchanged pleasantries with actors whose faces you recognized from the big screen and smiled politely at directors whose names you tried not to forget. 

But before long, Glen was pulled away, whisked from one conversation to the next like the star of the evening. You watched as he posed for pictures, his easy charm making every interaction look effortless. He’d glance back at you occasionally, offering a reassuring smile or a quick wink, but you could tell even he was beginning to feel the strain of the crowd.

You nursed a drink at the edge of the room, trying to stay out of the way while still keeping Glen in your sights. It was easy to lose track of time amidst the chaos, but the constant flow of strangers and small talk started to take its toll. The energy in the room felt electric and draining all at once, and you found yourself wishing for a quieter corner to catch your breath.

After what felt like hours, Glen appeared at your side, his hand lightly brushing your arm to get your attention. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the noise around you. “This is… a lot, huh?”

You nodded, letting out a small laugh. “It’s a little overwhelming. How are you holding up?”

“I’ve smiled so much tonight my face might be stuck this way,” he joked, though there was a hint of exhaustion in his eyes. He glanced around the room, then back at you. “What do you say we head to my party? I think I’ve shaken enough hands and posed for enough pictures to last a lifetime.”

The suggestion was like a lifeline, and you didn’t hesitate to agree. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Glen’s shoulders relaxed visibly at your answer, and he gave you a small, grateful smile. He offered you his arm, the gesture both protective and grounding as he guided you through the crowd toward the exit. Despite the noise and flashing cameras still lingering near the doorway, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief as you stepped out into the cool night air.

The car ride to the rooftop bar was quiet, a welcome change from the chaos of the Golden Globes after-party. Glen leaned back against the seat, his shirt now unbuttoned to a second button and the faintest hint of exhaustion in his expression.

You glanced at him, smiling softly. “You know, most people would just go to bed after a night like this. Not go to another party.”

Glen chuckled, his head turning toward you. “What can I say? I’m not most people.”

When the car pulled up to the rooftop bar, Glen stepped out first, turning back to offer you his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go see everyone.”

The rooftop bar was stunning, its perimeter lined with fairy lights that cast a warm, golden glow. The city skyline sparkled in the distance, and the faint hum of music drifted through the air. Glen had rented the entire space, and as the two of you stepped inside, you were greeted by the cheerful buzz of conversation.

His parents were the first to spot you, their faces lighting up as they hurried over to greet Glen with warm hugs and congratulations. 

His mom pulled you into an embrace as well, her voice filled with genuine affection. “You look stunning tonight, sweetheart. And thank you for taking care of our boy out there.”

“Always,” you replied with a smile, feeling the ease that came with being around Glen’s family.

You scanned the room and spotted Leslie, Glen’s younger sister, waving excitedly from across the bar. She was all smiles as she made her way over, throwing her arms around you in a hug. 

“It’s been forever!” she exclaimed, pulling back to give you a once-over. “You look amazing! And that dress—ugh, you’re killing me.”

“You’re one to talk,” you teased, taking in her own dress. “You look incredible.”

Glen was quickly pulled into conversations with friends and other guests, his charm and warmth on full display as he moved through the room. You stayed behind with Leslie, the two of you settling into a quieter corner of the bar.

“So,” you said, leaning in conspiratorially. “Tell me everything about the engagement. I need details.”

Leslie’s face lit up, and she launched into a detailed recounting of the proposal—how her fiancé had asked, the secret planning, how he included her friends and family in on the surprise. She showed you the ring, a design that perfectly suited her, and the two of you gushed over wedding plans.

“I’m thinking late spring,” Leslie said, twirling her glass of wine between her fingers. “Something outdoors, simple but elegant. Glen keeps trying to offer to pay for everything, but I want to keep it low-key.”

“That sounds perfect,” you said, smiling. “And knowing Glen, he’ll find a way to contribute whether you want him to or not.”

Leslie laughed, nodding. “Oh, I know. He’s the best, though. We’re lucky to have him.”

“Yeah, we really are.” Your gaze drifted across the room to where Glen was laughing with a small group of friends, his easy smile making your own lips curve upward. His hand was resting casually in the pocket of his suit pants.

“You’ve got that look again,” Leslie said, a teasing lilt in her tone.

You blinked, snapping your gaze back to her. “What look?”

She grinned knowingly and nudged your arm with her elbow. “The ‘I’m totally into Glen but I’ll never admit it’ look.”

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your cheeks. “What? That’s ridiculous,” you said quickly, trying to laugh it off. “You’re crazy.”

“Uh-huh,” Leslie said, leaning back against the bar with a smirk. “Sure I am.”

You rolled your eyes, determined to brush off her teasing. “He’s my best friend, Les. That’s-” But before you could finish your sentence, Glen glanced over at the two of you. His eyes found yours across the room, and when he smiled—soft, warm, and undeniably genuine—you felt your words falter. 

You didn’t even realize you had stopped speaking until Leslie let out a low chuckle.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, barely containing her laughter. “You’ve got it bad.”

Realizing what just happened, you tore your gaze away from Glen, your face burning. 

“I do not,” you muttered, but the weak protest only made Leslie laugh harder.

She shook her head, her grin widening. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered. Honestly, I’ve suspected this for years, but that little moment right there? Total confirmation.”

“Okay, enough,” you said, waving your hands as if to physically push the conversation away. “Let’s focus less on your brother and my nonexistent love life. Let’s get back to your wedding.”

Leslie just smirked, clearly not buying your denial. “Fine, but for the record? He’s totally into you too.”

You gave Leslie a confused look, followed by a doubtful laugh. “Yeah, right?” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Leslie raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your self-doubt. “Why do you think he wouldn’t be into you?” she asked, crossing her arms as if she were gearing up to debate.

You sighed, glancing down at your drink. “I mean…look at him,” you said, gesturing vaguely in Glen’s direction. “He could have literally anyone he wants. Models, actresses, anyone. And I’m just…” You trailed off, shrugging.

Leslie tilted her head, studying you with a knowing smile. “Just what?” she pressed.

“Just me,” you finished weakly, feeling a little silly for saying it out loud.

Leslie let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Okay, first of all, that’s ridiculous. Second of all—” She paused, leaning in slightly for emphasis. “You’re the one he asked to be his date tonight. Not a model, not an actress, you.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the truth of her words. “That’s just because we’re friends,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Friends,” Leslie repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Right. Because friends definitely look at each other the way he looks at you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up again. “He does not look at me any type of way,” you insisted, but Leslie wasn’t buying it.

She smirked, nodding toward Glen, who was now making his way across the room in your direction.

“Sure he doesn’t,” she said, her voice teasing. “But just in case you’re still in denial, why don’t you pay attention when he gets over here? You’ll see what I mean.”

Before you could respond, Glen reached the two of you, his presence immediately drawing your attention. 

“Hey,” he said, flashing that easy smile of his. “Am I interrupting something, or can I steal her for a bit?”

Leslie’s grin widened as she gave you a pointed look. “Not at all,” she said sweetly, stepping aside. “She’s all yours.”

You shot her a subtle glare, but Leslie just winked at you before turning to join the rest of the group. As Glen’s attention shifted back to you, your heart did that annoying fluttery thing it always seemed to do when he was around.

“You okay?” he asked, his gaze flicking over your face as if checking for any signs of discomfort.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just catching up with Leslie.”

“Good,” he said, his smile softening. “She’s been excited to see you. I think she’s secretly more interested in hanging out with you than me tonight.”

You laughed, the sound helping to ease the tension swirling in your chest. “Well, to be fair, I am pretty great,” you teased, falling back into your usual banter with him.

“Can’t argue with that,” Glen said, his tone light, but there was something in his eyes that lingered a little too long, something that made your breath catch just slightly.

The atmosphere shifted subtly as the music transitioned to something slower, a beat just mellow enough to set a softer, almost romantic mood. The chatter in the room seemed to quiet slightly, replaced by the rhythmic sway of the melody. Glen glanced toward the small dance floor, where a few of his friends were starting to pair off, and then turned back to you.

“Come on,” he said, extending a hand toward you, his smile warm and inviting.

You shook your head immediately, taking a small step back. “You know I don’t dance,” you reminded him, your voice firm but playful.

His grin only widened, clearly undeterred. “And you know I don’t take no for an answer,” he teased, stepping closer and gently taking your hand before you could protest further.

“Glen,” you said, a hint of exasperation in your tone, but he was already pulling you toward the dance floor.

“Relax,” he said with a laugh, glancing back at you. “I’ll lead. All you have to do is follow.”

You sighed in resignation, realizing there was no escaping this. When you reached the dance floor, you placed a hand on his shoulder, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his dress shirt. He wrapped an arm securely around your waist, pulling you just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“You’ve done this before,” he said lightly as he started to guide you to the rhythm of the music.

“Once or twice,” you admitted, though you still felt slightly self-conscious. “But I’m warning you—I’m not great at it.”

“You’re doing fine,” he assured you, his voice low and steady, as if the rest of the room didn’t exist.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Leslie standing by the bar. She was watching you with an unmistakable smirk, her arms crossed in triumph. When your eyes met hers, she gave you a knowing look, the kind that said, See? Told you so.

You rolled your eyes at her and shook your head, trying to silently tell her to knock it off. Glen noticed the exchange, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced over at Leslie and then back down at you. 

“What am I missing?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, though your cheeks were already starting to warm.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, his tone teasing now. “What’s going on between you two?”

“Leslie’s just…being Leslie,” you said vaguely, hoping to leave it at that.

But Glen wasn’t letting it go. He tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his face as realization started to dawn on him. 

“Wait a minute…” he said, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Is she messing with you about something?”

“Not really,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“Not really?” he repeated, clearly unconvinced. His eyes flicked back toward Leslie, who was now openly grinning at the two of you. “Oh, she’s definitely messing with you about something,” he said with a laugh.

You groaned, your head dropping slightly as you muttered, “I’m going to kill her.”

Glen chuckled, his hand on your waist giving a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he said, his tone playful but his smile soft.

For a moment, you forgot about Leslie entirely, your focus shifting back to Glen as you moved together in time with the music. His gaze lingered on you, his expression unexpectedly tender, and you felt your heart skip in a way that made you wonder if Leslie might actually have a point after all.

As the slower song faded out, you felt a moment of relief. But then the next song started, and your heart sank a little as the unmistakable notes of a love ballad filled the air. The kind that spoke of longing and intimacy, the kind that made you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you were still in Glen’s arms.

You glanced up at him, your lips parting to excuse yourself, but before you could step away, his hand on your back shifted, a gentle but deliberate pressure that kept you in place.

“Stay,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Glen, I—” you started, already shaking your head. There was no way you could dance to a love song with your best friend. It felt too…loaded.

“Just one more,” he murmured, and when your eyes met his, whatever protest you had ready fell away. There was something in the way he looked at you—something unspoken but undeniable. It wasn’t just a friendly look. It was softer, deeper, and for a moment, it left you breathless.

You nodded, barely, and he smiled—just a small, private curve of his lips that made your stomach flip.

He pulled you just a little closer this time, close enough that your chest brushed against his. The hold on your back shifted, his hand sliding just slightly lower, resting at the curve where your back met your waist. It wasn’t inappropriate—just enough to feel a little less like friendship and a little more like something else.

Without thinking, you leaned into him, your cheek resting lightly against his chest. His warmth was comforting, grounding, and you closed your eyes for a moment, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm of the song and the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

You felt him tilt his head, the faintest brush of his cheek against the top of yours. It was such a small gesture, but it sent your heart into a quiet frenzy, a rhythm that seemed to echo in time with the music.

Neither of you said a word as you moved together, swaying gently to the melody. The first verse passed, then the chorus, and you couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt to be here, like the rest of the world had melted away.

The song came to an end, the final notes fading into a hum of conversation and clinking glasses around you. Glen didn’t move right away, and for a moment, neither did you. You stayed in his arms, feeling the warmth of his hand still pressed against your back, the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.

But then someone called his name from across the room, breaking the fragile bubble that had surrounded you both. Glen’s arm slipped away, though his hand lingered on your elbow for a second longer than necessary.

“I’ll be right back,” he said softly, his eyes lingering on yours, as if reluctant to leave.

You nodded, offering a small smile, and watched as he crossed the room to greet a new arrival. The absence of his touch left you feeling untethered, a sudden awareness of just how much you’d let yourself melt into him during that dance.

Needing a moment to collect yourself—and maybe something stronger than a moment of quiet—you made your way to the bar. You ordered a glass of wine and took a steadying sip, trying to push the last few minutes out of your mind.

Of course, Leslie found you before you even made it halfway through your drink.

“So,” she started, leaning casually against the bar with an unmistakable smirk. “That was…something.”

You rolled your eyes, though you could feel the blush already creeping up your neck. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” she asked innocently, though her grin was anything but. “I’m just saying, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother look at someone like that. Or hold someone like that. Or—”

“Leslie,” you warned, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your attempt at composure.

She laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “I’m just saying, for someone who insists she doesn’t dance, you looked awfully comfortable out there dancing with my brother.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you replied, taking another sip of your wine in a futile attempt to drown your nerves.

“Doesn’t it?” she countered, raising an eyebrow. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like something more.”

You shot her a sharp look, but she just shrugged, still grinning.

“Relax,” she said, nudging your arm playfully. “I’m not about to make a big announcement or anything. But if you don’t see it yet…” She trailed off, giving you a knowing look before gesturing subtly toward Glen, who was still across the room, laughing with a small group of friends.

You followed her gaze despite yourself, and your heart gave a traitorous little lurch at the sight of him. His smile was easy and charming, but every now and then, his eyes flicked toward the bar, as if checking to see if you were still there.

“See what I mean?” Leslie said softly, pulling your attention back to her.

You shook your head, trying to play it off. “You’re reading into things.”

“Am I?” she challenged, her tone light but her expression serious. “Because I’ve known Glen my whole life, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. So, maybe it’s time you stop convincing yourself it’s all in your head.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and you found yourself speechless, staring down into your glass of wine as if it held the answers you were so desperately trying to avoid.

Leslie let the silence linger for a moment before giving your arm another playful nudge. “Just think about it, okay?”

And with that, she pushed off the bar and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts—and the undeniable truth you were no longer sure you could ignore.

You stepped away from the bar, glass of wine in hand, and gravitated toward a quieter corner of the rooftop. The laughter and conversation from the party grew softer with every step, the music fading into a pleasant hum in the background. A gentle breeze brushed against your skin as you approached the railing, the Los Angeles skyline glittering like a sea of stars before you.

You leaned against the cool metal and took a slow sip of your wine, your thoughts drifting back to Leslie’s words. Was she onto something? No, she couldn’t be. Glen was your best friend, the one constant in your life through every twist and turn. You would know if he felt something for you… right?

But then again…

You sighed and rested your elbow on the railing, pressing your glass lightly to your lips. Leslie had known Glen her entire life. If anyone could read him, it was her. And the way she spoke—like she’d been holding onto this knowledge for a while—left you with an uncomfortable sense of doubt.

Could she be right? Could you really have missed something that big?

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled you from your thoughts. You looked over, expecting another party guest, but instead, you found Glen standing beside you. The velvet tuxedo jacket was now off, and his hair was a little mussed from probably running his hand through it one too many times, but his smile was warm and familiar.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning casually against the railing next to you. “You okay?”

You managed a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, just needed a breather.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze calm and steady, before arching a brow. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Leslie pestering you at the bar, would it?”

You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched with the hint of a smile. “No.”

“Uh-huh,” Glen said, clearly not buying it. “Because Leslie may or may not have told me to come find you.”

Your heart gave a jolt, and you turned to look at him. “She what?”

“She didn’t say why,” Glen added quickly, holding up a hand as if to reassure you. “But… she said…enough.”

“Enough?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

He hesitated, his smile fading into something softer, something more sincere. “Enough to make me realize I’ve been putting this off for too long.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Glen stepped closer. His eyes searched yours, as though he were trying to gauge your reaction before saying anything else. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he said, his voice low. “For coming with me tonight. For being here for me—not just tonight, but always.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. There was something in his tone, in the way he looked at you, that made your heart beat just a little faster.

“And I need you to know,” he continued, taking another step closer, “how much you mean to me.”

The space between you was nearly nonexistent now, and for a moment, neither of you said a word. His eyes searched yours, his hand twitching at his side like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he should.

You felt it then—that shift Leslie had hinted at, the one you’d been too afraid to fully acknowledge. This wasn’t just your best friend standing in front of you. This was Glen, the man who had been at your side for years, looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

He took a deep breath and leaned in slightly, pausing when your noses were almost touching. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t.

Instead, you met his gaze, your heart thundering in your chest.

Glen’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and then his eyes fluttered shut as he raised a hand to your face. His palm was warm as it cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You closed your eyes just as his lips found yours.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though he was afraid you might pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and placed a hand lightly against his chest, he deepened the kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

The world around you faded—the music, the laughter, the skyline. All that mattered was the way Glen’s lips moved against yours, the way he held you like he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to hold its breath as you both stood there, processing what had just happened. Glen’s hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb tracing soft, absentminded circles against your skin. Your heart raced, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the surreal, breathtaking reality of the moment.

Finally, Glen broke the silence, his lips curving into that familiar, playful grin that always managed to put you at ease. “So…” he began, his tone light but his eyes still holding that intensity from before. “Does this mean you’ll let me take you to next year’s Globes too?”

The laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, breaking the tension in the most perfect way. You shook your head, resting your forehead against his chest as a smile spread across your lips. “We’ll see if you behave, Cowboy.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rested. “Behave? I’m a perfect gentleman,” he said, his voice tinged with mock indignation.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, arching a brow. “Oh, really? Perfect gentlemen don’t usually kiss their best friends on rooftops in the middle of a party.”

His grin widened as he shrugged, his hand still resting lightly on your waist. “Maybe I got tired of being just your best friend.”

Your breath caught again at the sincerity in his tone, the way his teasing words carried so much truth. Glen had always been charming, always quick with a joke or a flirtatious comment, but this felt different. This felt real.

You didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say, but instead of pushing, Glen just smiled and leaned down to press a quick, gentle kiss to your forehead. And with that, he stepped back slightly, though his hand still lingered on your waist, as if to let you know that even with the space between you, he was still there, still yours.

You tilted your head back to look up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation, but all you saw was sincerity. The smile that still lingered on his lips wasn’t one of teasing; it was genuine, like he was relieved to have crossed that line with you.

“I don’t know what to say,” you confessed, your voice quieter than usual. “This is... a lot to take in, you know?”

Glen nodded, his thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of your dress, a small gesture that seemed to ground you. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, “I get it.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he added, “But I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through you, and for a brief moment, you closed your eyes, letting yourself truly hear what he was saying. The uncertainty that had clouded your mind earlier began to dissipate, replaced by something far more powerful—trust.

“I just don’t want to mess things up, Glen,” you admitted, looking up at him again, your voice low but clear. “We’ve been friends for so long. I don’t want to lose that.”

His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb now tracing along your jawline as he spoke, his voice steady. “We won’t lose it,” he promised, his gaze never leaving yours. “I wouldn’t let that happen. We’re in this together, okay?”

You nodded, the sincerity in his words making your heart swell. “Okay,” you whispered, the word feeling like a vow in the quiet space between you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, as if the world had paused just for you two. It was peaceful, despite everything—the chaos of the party, the swirling emotions inside you. Glen was here, right in front of you, and he was offering you something more. Something you hadn’t expected but couldn’t deny.

Then, in the silence that followed, he grinned, that familiar playful glint returning to his eyes. “So, does this mean you’ll let me take you on a date?”

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him, and couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes twinkled with excitement. He was waiting, his expression open and genuine, and suddenly, it didn’t feel like anything was uncertain anymore. The nerves, the doubts—they melted away in the warmth of his gaze.

"Yeah," you said softly, your voice filled with the quiet confidence that had come from years of friendship and, somehow, this unexpected moment. "I'd like that."

His smile deepened, and for a second, it was as if time stood still. He reached out, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face, his hand lingering on your cheek.

Without another word, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. It wasn’t rushed, nor was it shy. It was everything you hadn’t known you needed.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours. You both stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, as if savoring the moment before the world could rush back in.

"Come on," Glen said, pulling you gently by the hand, “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”

As he led you back toward the party, his fingers intertwined with yours, and the moment felt complete. You’d crossed the line, yes, but it was the best kind of line to cross—one that made you excited for whatever came next.

You shared one last look, a silent promise between you two, before re-entering the party, side by side, ready for whatever the night—and your future—held.

[fumiscripts]

✦ DEDICATED TO YOU

✦ one shot ,, rin itoshi x gn!reader

content:: you're a famous idol. and you're dating a professional player. of course you'll be making headlines when your relationship was made public.

for @yui2aku ,, fluff ,, 822 words

additional:: swearing, they're both whipped for eachother, might be ooc

Itoshi Rin is a rising star in the football industry. And you were in the peak of your idol career.

Obviously, the media would freak if they find out that the two of you were dating.

So you kept the relationship a secret, doing your best to not give out any hints. From making sure not to mention each other too much in interviews, to carefully crafting social media posts to ensure that fans won't be able to tell that you were going to a place together. Both of you and your management carefully concealed it from the public view.

But, of course, not everything goes to plan.

PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE ITOSHI RIN AND SOLO IDOL [L/N] [NAME] SEEN HOLDING HANDS AT HANEDA AIRPORT.

This was the headline of one of the many, many articles that flooded all across the internet. Your heart stopped, then slammed back at full force. You stood up straighter, brows furrowing together. The first time you opened your phone for the day, and you find posts about this everywhere.

Oh fuck. You fucked up, didn't you?

“Shit. What the hell,” you curse under your breath, reading more into the article.

Meanwhile, Rin looks up from your lap, opening an eye, disturbed from resting on your thighs when you suddenly stopped running your hands through his black locks. Your eyes flicked towards his,and he gave you a look, as if to ask what suddenly bothered you to halt playing with his hair.

You blink at him, before sheepishly turning your phone around, showing him what's been blowing up all over the media. “So… maybe we weren't discreet enough with the clothes I wore to greet you.”

His face instantly dropped, turning into something more serious as his teal eyes skimmed through the overview of the post. Rin sighed, grumbling something under his breath before burying his face onto your stomach. “...I told you to just stay at home and wait for me,” he murmured after a while, draping his arms around your waist.

“C’mon… you know I had to greet you right away. It was after a big overseas game I couldn't come to— it was the same time I had a concert,” you scoffed, reasoning with him. “The least I could do was pick you up at the airport.”

Rin didn't look up. He was touched by your little gesture to try and make up for not attending a vital match, so he didn't use that argument further. “Tch. Should've at least covered up more of your features,” he lightheartedly remarked. Though he really liked the uniqueness you had with the way you dressed up, so he can't hate on that. “Well, what do we do now?” he asked, moving the topic along from the problem to finding a solution.

You stared down your phone, anxiousness coming back to loom over you. “I should contact my manager,” you remark, watching as he finally lets go of you and sits up properly. “We could schedule a meeting with our PR teams?”

He nodded. “Right. So go do that,” he replied, though he already had a vague idea what they might propose for you two to do. It was a guess.

That guess was right.

The day after those rumors about the two of you having a secret blew up, you hard launched your relationship to the public.

They decided that coming out clean about this would be the most logical way to proceed— way better than the media speculating that the two of you were just a fling and start tarnishing both of you’s reputation. A proper relationship sounded way better than a one-night stand to the public.

After confirming on each official account, the masses began to be a little more welcoming to it. Hell, the ship tag between you and Rin seemed to blow up with positive posts, even. So that fix was successful.

Once the news calmed down through weeks, everything was back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be with being an idol with a soccer player for a boyfriend. Majority of fans seemed to love the two of you, often making fan media dedicated to your relationship. And in all honesty, it was cute. Plus, you had more material to tease Rin with.

Now, you couldn't help it. You personally asked for your next album to be something special, convincing management it's for the sake of the publication of your relationship. Though, it was dedication for someone special.

An album dedicated to him.

Rin knew those songs were dedicated to him. If those vibrant eyes of yours while you performed on stage— looking straight at him who sat by the vip seats— said anything, it was all about how much you loved him.

Oh, and with the way he looked at you with pure adoration, it was obvious he loved you, too.

Rin was utterly, hopelessly dedicated to you.

(a/n):: Grrrhsjua not my proudest work since I barely write nonchalant asf characters

taglist:: @shrii-kk, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @fishii28, @yui2aku

@lakeside-paradise

© fumiscripts 2024. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.

[mminghaos]

best friend seungcheol whom you have a crush on, but never told him. he doesn't know it either and y'all just bicker all the time as bsf, one day all of it changes when you finally say you found a match on some dating app. he realises it and bam! hot and heavy shit go down.

bitter crush , choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYPNOSIS: your bestfriend doesn’t know you’ve had a crush on him for years, but when you mention matching with someone on a dating app, everything changes.

WARNINGS: smut, fingering, kissing, teasing, mingyu as the failed date lmfao

requests are open, do send some in!!

you’ve been friends with seungcheol since high school, watching each other grow up — first jobs, first kisses, and everything in between, sticking together through the highs and lows. your friendship is built on bickering and teasing each other like it’s second nature. but now, the bickering feels different.

“i matched with someone on that app i told you about,” you say, placing your coffee down on the wooden table of the café you and seungcheol are sitting at.

you’d decided to give a dating app a shot, hoping it would help you take your mind off seungcheol. maybe meeting someone new will help you move on, or at least distract you from the constant thoughts about him. but so far, it’s just more of the same — swiping, chatting, but none of its ever seemed to match the energy you share with him. you might as well move on, since seungcheol has is own hookups and girlfriends, and none of them will ever be you. its frustrating, the way this burning crush for him is always shimmering beneath the surface, gnawing at you. this is going to be the death of you — that’s what you always tell yourself.

“so you’re telling me you’re out here swiping on strangers?” he responds, his voice laced with something you can’t quite place. “what happened to the whole ‘not needing anyone’ thing?”

“it changed.”

“really? that’s weird.” he says, his eyes never leaving you. “thought you were too busy to deal with anyone new.”

you roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. “yeah, well, apparently im not as busy as i thought.”

you’ve never been the type to casually date or get involved with someone just for the sake of it. but lately, things feel different. seungcheol’s always been there — constant, reliable, and annoyingly perfect in his own way — and it’s hard to ignore how your thoughts always circle back to him, no matter how many times you try to push them away. you’ve never said it out loud, never let him in on the truth of how much he’s been occupying your mind, and the idea of dating someone else? it almost feels like a joke. you’re not really here for some random guy who doesn’t know you like he does. but the more you try to distract yourself, the more you realize how little it helps. no matter how many matches you get, no conversation ever seems to compare to the effortless back and forth you share with seungcheol. it’s like you’re chasing something that doesn’t quite exist, and each swipe only makes you feel more frustrated. but you can’t exactly admit that, not to him, not to anyone. so you keep trying, hoping maybe this time will be different, even though you know deep down it won’t be.

“so, who’s this guy?”

you shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. “kim mingyu. he’s nice. we’ve met a few times before, actually — works at that bar down the street.”

seungcheol leans back in his chair, his arms crossed as he watched you. he clears his throat. “just don’t pick some random guy who doesn’t get you, alright?”

“what, are you jealous or something?”

“no.”

the date with mingyu went well. you two got along really great — there was no shortage of conversation, and the chemistry was comfortable. you both enjoyed the meal and found common ground in ways that made the evening feel lighthearted and easy. it was nice, actually, to just relax and enjoy someone’s company without any pressure.

even if the date was good, you and mingyu both agreed that you should just be friends, neither of you feeling the sparks you were hoping for.

you walk into your apartment, slipping off your shoes and placing your keys under the mat. its quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. you head towards the living room, where seungcheol is sprawled on your couch, sorting through the groceries he offered to pick up for you earlier this week.

“you’re back early,” he says, glancing up with a smirk. “thought you were gonna be out all night with your… date.”

you roll your eyes, not really in the mood to talk about it. “it was fine,” you reply, shrugging as you drop your purse on the counter. “nothing special.”

seungcheol raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “really?”

you let out a breath, trying to sound casual. “yeah, well, turns out i’m not as interested as i thought.”

he tilts his head, looking at you like he’s trying to figure you out. “what do you mean?”

you hesitate, leaning against the kitchen counter, fingers tapping against the countertop. “we got along, i guess. but we just decided to be friends.”

“huh.” seungcheol shrugs, clearly unconcerned, though there’s something in the way he watches you that makes you pause. “so you’re saying you don’t feel any connection with him at all?”

you shift, rubbing the back of your neck. “it’s just… not there. but whatever. i’m fine.”

“you sure?” seungcheol presses, his voice dropping an octave, and you can’t help but notice how close he’s sitting now. “because i’m sure someone else would love the chance to—”

“ugh, please.” you cut him off, trying to brush it off. “i don’t need some random guy to be interested.”

he smirks, clearly not buying it. “really? sounds like you do.”

you bite your lip, trying to hold onto your patience, but it’s slipping through your fingers. you know he’s teasing, and usually, you’d laugh it off, but tonight feels different. there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore, something that’s been building for years. frustration bubbles up inside you, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“cheol, i like you, okay?” you blurt out, your voice trembling slightly, surprised by how easily it all comes rushing out.

he pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. there’s a moment of silence, and you feel like you’re about to suffocate under the weight of it. his gaze flickers to your face, then down to your hands, then back to your eyes, as if trying to figure out what’s really going on.

“wait,” he says slowly, his tone less playful and more cautious now. “you’re not drunk, are you? had drinks or something when you were out?”

you quickly shake your head, trying to steady your breath. “no, i’m not drunk. i just—” but the words feel clumsy on your tongue, and suddenly, you’re unsure of how to take them back.

“i shouldn’t have said that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “this was stupid, i’m sorry. i don’t even know why i—”

you start rambling, trying to downplay the confession that’s just slipped out. each word feels like it’s digging you deeper, and you just want to take it all back. “i mean, i don’t even know what i was thinking—this is—god, i’m so—”

but before you can finish, seungcheol pushes himself off the couch and walks towards you, stopping just a few inches away. his eyes still lock on yours. the silence stretches, and you feel your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. you want to say something, to apologize again, but all the words are caught in your chest.

“stop,” he says softly, his voice low, but there’s an intensity in it that you can’t ignore.

you open your mouth, wanting to explain, to take back the awkward confession, but the words jumble in your mind. “it’s just… i didn’t want to make it weird, and now i’ve probably ruined everything—”

seungcheol doesn’t say anything, just watches you with an unreadable look in his eyes, waiting for you to stop rambling. you go on anyway, trying to explain yourself, even though you can feel yourself getting more flustered with each passing second.

before you can continue, he steps forward, his hand gently cupping your face, cutting off your words. you freeze, eyes wide, but before you can process anything, his lips crash onto yours, effectively silencing you.

the kiss is deep and urgent, like he’s been holding back too. your brain barely registers what’s happening as your hands instinctively move to his chest, but the tension that had been building between you both for so long snaps. everything goes quiet in your mind, and for the first time tonight, all the chaos and nerves fall away, replaced by the heat of his kiss.

the kiss lingers for a moment, intense and raw, as if neither of you wants to pull away. your breath mingles with his, the world around you blurring until there’s only the feeling of him so close, so real. your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears, and you can feel the tension in his body as he holds you just a bit tighter, as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

when he finally pulls back, you’re left breathless, your forehead resting against his as you both try to catch your breath. his hands are still on you, one gently holding your face, the other resting on your hip, grounding you.

“you really don’t make things easy, do you?” he murmurs, his voice a little hoarse, the teasing edge back in his tone, but it’s softer now, more affectionate.

you don’t trust yourself to speak right away. all the words that had been stuck in your chest before are now lost, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of him so close, his touch still lingering on your skin. instead, you look up at him, meeting his eyes, trying to make sense of everything, but before you can say anything, he smiles slightly, a genuine, soft expression.

“i didn’t realise how much i liked you until you told me about that guy,” he admits, brushing his thumb over your cheek gently. “i was too stupid to notice.”

you dont get to reply because his hand moves down your back, pulling you closer, your chest pressed against his. the room feels warmer now, charged with something you can't ignore. your hands find their way to his chest, pushing lightly at first, unsure if you should pull away or let it happen. but he doesn't give you that chance.

his lips return to yours, but this time, there's more urgency in it, his kiss deepening as his tongue brushes against yours. you let out a soft sigh, the tension that's been building between you two for what feels like forever finally snapping. he groans, his hand moving to your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss further. the heat between you both grows, and you can feel every inch of him pressing against you, making your pulse quicken.

seungcheol's voice is low, almost a whisper as he takes a step back, hands resting on your waist, grounding you both. "do you want to keep going?" he asks.

you nod, your heart racing, but your mind is clear. “yes.”

he doesn't say anything more, just nods and gently takes your hand, leading you through the apartment. when you get to your room, he lays you down on the bed gently, his hands never leaving you.

seungcheol hovers over you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation, any sign that you’re unsure. you can feel his body close to yours, the warmth radiating off him. “are you sure?”

“yes, cheol.” you let out a light laugh, pulling him closer. “im sure.”

his lips trail down your jaw, each kiss softer than the last before he moves to your neck, his teeth grazing slightly over the skin. you let out a soft sigh once he pulls back after reaching where your shirt starts. before he can say anything, you’re reaching for the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric over your head.

seungcheol takes a moment, his gaze lingering on you before meeting your eyes again.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says, unclasping your bra and slipping it off. “god.”

his hands find their way to your pants as he trails kisses down your chest, each one growing more desperate as his lips move lower. the warmth of his breath against your skin sends a shiver through you, and you can feel your heart race with every gentle press of his lips.

eventually, he pulls your pants off, discarding them somewhere on the floor behind him. “please.” you breathe out

“hmm?” he responds, his fingers slipping just under the band of your panties. “what do you want, baby?”

“need you inside me, please.”

he glances down at you, lips twitching up into a smirk. “patience.”

“no, no, no— cheol, please—” you whimper out.

“don’t worry, you’ll get what you want.” he cuts you off, pressing a light kiss to your collarbone.

when he finally stops teasing you and pulls your panties down, tossing them god knows where, you’re already a mess underneath him. every nerve in your body is on edge, anticipation building as he slides two fingers through your folds. “fuck, you’re soaking wet for me, baby.” a low groan escapes his lips, his restraint wavering as he fights to hold himself back.

he slowly pushes one finger into your pussy, giving you a moment to relax before he adds another and starts to curl them into all the right places.

“cheol!” your head falls back against the pillow, hand going to grab his wrist for some sort of stability.

“yeah, you like that?”

you’re already so close — just from the way his fingers move inside you, hitting every spot that sends sparks shooting througu your body.

you nod over and over again, hips rising to match the rhythm of his movements. “don’t stop— fuck— please, im so close.” 

your breath hitches, and you clutch at his arm, desperate for grounding as the sensations overwhelm you. every stroke of his fingers feels like its pulling you closer to the brink, and the tension in your body winds tighter with each passing second. “please—” the word slips out as a whisper, barely audible. your legs start to shake, the pleasure coursing through you almost too much to bear.

before you can even warn seungcheol, you’re coming undone all over his fingers, hips bucking up at the same time.

“god, thats so hot.” he mutters, but you’re too out of it to know if its to you or himself.

"you alright?" seungcheol asks softly, his hand resting on your hip as he looks down at you with concern. his touch is gentle, almost hesitant, as if he's checking for any sign of discomfort.

you nod, your breath still ragged, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "yeah, i'm good. just... didn't expect that." your voice is breathy, the lingering effects of the moment still making your body tingle.

seungcheol smirks, clearly pleased with the reaction. "you sure you're not too overwhelmed?" he teases, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

you laugh softly, the sound shaky but genuine. "im fine" you reply, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye. "was that your way of saying you like me too?"

“it was.” he smirks, eyes locking onto yours. “think you can go for one more round?”

he really is going to be the death of you.

[4linos]

the one that got away

han jisung x fem!reader (hint of hyunjin x reader)

synopsis: jisung struggles with his unspoken love for his best friend as new year’s eve reveals that he’s too late.

wc: 926

(a/n: my late nye post. i’m sorry it’s angsty too. 😢)

Jisung's heart was pounding steadily, drowning out the wild laughing and pounding music from the party. The air felt too heavy and suffocating. He had been looking for you for what seemed like hours, but time was running out, and the countdown was already beginning. He needed to find you. He had to tell you. For years, he had buried it. The feelings. The slight aching that had developed in his chest whenever you mentioned another guy.

Jisung would grin and nod whenever you talked about how much you liked someone or how you were falling for them, his voice composed and his face neutral. But inside? Each word from you was like a blade twisting deeper into his chest.

Tonight, though... Tonight, he planned to say it. He wanted to confess tonight, with the promise of a fresh start with the new year. He was not going to hide anymore. He was not going to let you slide through his fingers one more year. He needed to be brave.

And so, when he finally saw you, laughing brightly within the crowd, his stomach twisted in an unfamiliar way. You weren't alone. Hyunjin was there. Of course he was. Hyunjin, with his effortless charm and that goddamn smile, had everyone swooning. Jisung stood still, staring at the two of you, feeling a weight in his chest that he had never experienced before.

You were talking to him in the same way you had with so many others before: joking, teasing, lighthearted, and carefree, but it wasn't just that. It was more than just the playful back and forth. It was the way you touched his arm, your fingertips lightly brushing over his sleeve, and the way Hyunjin's gaze stayed on you, soft and centered. Jisung's chest squeezed severely as he stood in the corner of the room, feeling isolated in his own existence.

He couldn't move. He could not even breathe. It wasn't meant to be like this. You were not supposed to be so perfect with him. Not with Hyunjin. Not like this.

Even though he was only a few steps away, the distance between you widened as the countdown began. You were still so lost in him, and for a moment, Jisung felt crushed by the weight of his own emotions. He shouldn't have let things get this far. He shouldn't have let himself love you in this way. He had always been worried of ruining what the two of you had together. But now, it felt like everything was slipping away.

The clock struck midnight, the world erupted in cheers, and Jisung's world collapsed in the form of a kiss. Your lips touched Hyunjin's in front of him, and everything stopped. The sound of fireworks outside seemed to fade into the background. It was only you. It's just you and him. The two of you were caught in that kiss, the kind that people only share after they've passed that boundary and know who they are to each other.

Jisung had no idea how long he'd stood there, staring. He had no idea how much of his heart had broken in that one second. All he knew was that it felt like someone had ripped a huge, raw hole in him that he couldn't ignore. His thoughts raced around in circles, too rapid and furious.

This isn’t what I thought it would be. This isn’t what I imagined. This wasn’t how I planned for it to go. 

When you moved away from Hyunjin, your gaze fixed on him. You smiled softly, with your brow furrowed in anxiety.

"Jisung?" you asked, your voice soft. "Are you okay?"

He wanted to scream. He wanted to say no, to tell you that he wasn’t okay, that everything in him was breaking. That he was never okay, that he had never been okay, as he’d watched you walk past him for years, falling for everyone but him.

But the words didn’t come. The lump in his throat was too heavy, his chest too tight. He swallowed, hoping to force the emotions down, but they just surged harder. He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not like this.

Instead of answering, Jisung did the only thing he could do. He turned away, his body moving on instinct, unable to stand there anymore. He couldn’t bear the sight of you, the sound of your voice, the warmth of your concern, when everything in him screamed I’m the one who’s been here all along. I’m the one who’s always loved you.

His feet carried him out of the room, out of the party, out of everything that felt like it might shatter him even more if he stayed.

The cool air hit his skin, sharp and biting, but it couldn’t touch the rawness inside him. He needed to get away, to disappear into the night, because the image of you with Hyunjin, your face lit up with joy, your heart elsewhere was suffocating him.

Jisung sobbed in the dark, alone with his thoughts. He didn't want anyone to see it. He didn't want you to know how much it hurt, how much he wanted to be the one you kissed. How he had waited so long for that moment, only to find you in the arms of another.

He'd passed up his chance, hadn't he? He'd let his fear rule him, let his own damn self-doubt stop him from taking the risk. And now the world felt too heavy.

Happy New Year, Jisung.

It wasn’t, though. Not for him. Not anymore.

//

masterlist

[taldigi]

how do you feel about yu’s parents?? What do you think they’re like?

I think they're really interesting to explore- believe it or not. I've seen a lot of different interpretations of his parents, ranging from straight up negligent, to being abusive-- or just simply too busy. I've even seen interpretations where they're perfectly fine parents, and that the year abroad is an unusual circumstance.

The game itself, which is what I would consider primary canon (sequels being secondary and manga and anime being tertiary) never touches on it more than it needs to to justify Yu's presence in Inaba/being new. I think Yu's mother is briefly mentioned once or twice and they are said to have called Dojima once.

I made the observation (previously when theorizing about Ren's parents) that it's completely possible that during the downtime that you don't get to see between transition stages (where, theoretically, the main protagonists would do homework or take a shower or tend to other daily needs) it's totally possible that they call or interact with their parents.

All interpretations are possible, but I know Souji Seta's (the protagonist from the Manga) parents are always moving around- and lot of folks have taken this to heart- and yeah, I can see it and I too like this idea- even though it's worth considering the fact that the manga is mostly secondary to the games (and even the anime!) and it's not definite canon.

That being said, I definitely like the idea that they are a sort of echo of the conflict between Nanako and Dojima. Both suggest career oriented people that probably shouldn't have had a kid in the first place who prioritize their work over their family.. and that, in turn, leading to neglect- with Yu and Nanako both being self sufficient. mature for their ages, and complacent.

Behaviors Yu exhibits- like his ability to cook meals beyond what is expected of a teenage boy, becoming incredibly attached to Nanako (he is one wrong dialog choice away from killing someone over her!) and Inaba, the insatiable need to people please, his initial desire to push people away or ignore others, and his otherworldly emotional control and ability to not express himself.. -is stuff like that echos of a kid who's had to grow up way too fast and not cause any trouble and keep to himself.

So personally, I subscribe to that concept: Yu's a kid who's been raised to be seen, not heard- developing complexes and anxieties over being praised for being responsible and mature even though he's only barely meeting that expectation by the skin of his teeth. Nothing less that being perfect for the Narukamis, after all- there's no time to make friends or have many interests when time is better spent on studying.

So... the Narukamis are parents who fufill those concepts. Parents who withhold attention and praise because those are things reserved for truly impressive successes.. and when exemplary is the expected baseline, such rewards are never actually acted upon.

Yu does have a taste in cooking, though- and a selection of music he likes. He doodles in his notes and reads magazines- I feel it expresses that while his parents don't police his interests, it also means that they really care much about their son's interests... as long as they don't interfere with work (and, by extension- Yu's grades or behavior, as he can be considered an asset in said jobs)

Jobs that leave them busy more often than not, leaving Yu alone.. but he's mature for his age, so it's okay. He prolly does a fried egg and toast and then goes and sits in front of the TV to do his homework. Yu seeing this in Nanako... is a lot, and makes their relationship that much more sweet and aajhksdkjasf

His parent's cruelty is best decided on a story by story basis. The level of willfulness in their work (genuinely needed often vs choosing work over family for example) or the level of regret they express upon leaving-- informing many interesting stories.

so yeah thats my thoughts on that.

side tangent, thats why souyo's so nice tbh. Yu always has to be the inconquerable senpai, the perfect big brother, noble leader, and everyone's rock- only to have Yosuke waltz up , hang off of him like a drunk girlfriend, and go "yeah he's amazing, but he's also the world's weirdest man and he's my best friend about it."

[multiheadcanons]

TF2 MERCS IN THE ANIMAL CARE INDUSTRY BECAUSE WORK HAS BEEN MAKING ME SAD

scout: scout is new to the industry. a year at most. the fastest bather you could find in town. doesn’t want to start his own business, so works for a mom and pop shop. personality hire, but he’s getting better and better every day. has no interest in learning how to groom, though. he doesn’t have the right eye to make an animal look good.

soldier: soldier is more likely to be an owner of a very blank salon that he rents out booths for individual groomers. only takes enough from the money pool to maintain the building. doesn’t really care what goes on otherwise. his tenants LOVE him, because any issue is solved within 48 hours and they can do whatever they want as long as they take care of the place. handles sharpening because he knows the sharpener.

pyro: runs a luxury doggy daycare; and is VERY serious about the job. is up almost 24 hours a day during holiday seasons taking care of up to 30 dogs a day. has a handful of full time, live in employees, but they get so nervous when they’re not there they just stay at the daycare all day, watching. loves their employees. pays like, double the average wage as a start, because pyro expects nonstop work. consistent raises and bonuses, AND pizza parties.

engineer: a man of many hats. is actually a farrier. but if you got a sheep that needs shearing or something that needs to be tinkered with or a blade that needs sharpening or a dog that just needs a bath and nail trim he’s also your man. is the ONLY LICENSED AND CERTIFIED SHARPENER IN THREE FUCKING STATES. busy, busy man. soldier sends wealthy business and hearty workers his way in exchange for a monthly sharpening for his little shop. they’re friends, and soldier has always been a man of his word, so of course he agreed.

heavy: specializes in extra large dogs. 70 pound minimum to book with him. he runs a one on one fear free grooming experience called “Giant Spaw For Giant Dogs”. his website to book an appointment is full of pictures of him holding these massive dogs like they’re puppies. he’s smiling so wide in each picture. heavy loves dogs. has numerous certifications. is dog cpr certified. regularly attends dog shows. his salon is BEAUTIFUL. sleek, modern, lavender and navy theme. you enter and the reception area smells… so good. charges an arm and a leg though. but he sends you like… pictures of your dog on photoshopped backgrounds. it’s so worth it, his clientele is DEVOTED to him. one time he got sick and had to cancel his appointments and one of his clients broke down on him, praying for his health over the phone.

demo: demo is the best worker in the state, and he cycles through salons and clinics often based on where he’s needed. every business wants him so bad when they don’t have him. is getting paid VERY well to do what he does best. enjoys the process of bathing a dog without the stress of the haircut. fast, efficient, able to juggle multiple groomers as ONE bather. he’s a vital asset to any team he’s with, and he doesn’t even need the money. also likes working kennel. will help pyro during the holiday season for a break.

spy: i have two ideas. spy either has like, celebrity clientele, or spy exclusively grooms cats. requires his clients on a monthly schedule either way. his salon is also one on one quiet luxury pet care. brown and cream colored salon. never remembers to take pictures of his work. to book with him requires prepayment. website is sleek, and his portfolio is sorted by breed. doesn’t ask what anyone wants done on their pet, just does what he thinks is best. they always come out stellar. even his worst grooms are westminster worthy. has a wall of pet colognes and finishing sprays.

sniper: sniper is a mobile groomer and his business is called “Come Wash My Dog”. fast, efficient. doesn’t do anything fancy on any dog, and charges accordingly. does keep bows and bandanas to put on his favorite clients. likes terriers. occasionally gets caught up talking to his clients. it’s like his human interaction for the day. don’t come up to him making any requests, he is very frank that he is not one of them fancy groomers. he gives the dogs a trim if he can. that’s why his prices are so low.

medic: see, medic might make a really bad and unethical human doctor. but i think he’d make a phenomenal avian veterinarian. i think if medic became a veterinarian he would be a much different, much more ethically fulfilled man. known for his passion and dedication to the job. practically sleeps in his office so he is on call, at all times. probably wouldn’t have interest in tending to anything past the birds, but because he is known as one of three exotic vets in the state he’ll occasionally see reptiles and rodents. only has passing thoughts of joining an illegal pet trade, but he loves his job so much. he couldn’t forgive himself if he squandered it. keeps every feather that falls off his clients, and keeps them in organized files. when a client dies, he’ll give them the feathers and keep one for his clinic’s gallery wall. has a clinic cat because he thinks the irony’s funny. much more at peace with himself. at his worst he’s like house but with birds and without the drug addiction.

[supernotnatural2005]

In the Eyes of a Hunter

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean finally had a few days spare from hunting with his dad to come see you at college. Though you weren’t exclusive, seeing you with another man opens up a can of feelings Dean had so desperately been trying to keep closed, and a confession that could change everything.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Angst, self doubt, Dean really needs to appreciate himself more 😩

AN: I know the gif is of Alec (Dark Angel) but, i couldn’t help but see a young Dean and this idea came to me 😅 It's a little more on the angsty side, but I promise the fluff is there. Also Happy New year! I know I've been away, not posting for a little while, but I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things. I hope you guys enjoy this one, let me know what you think?

Masterlist

2003

The crappy daytime shows weren’t cutting it, even in their static form from the ancient TV the motel provided. 

You were supposed to have been here two hours ago. That was the plan. Your class finished at 2, and then you were free for the day. Free to see him. 

After all, he had come all this way for you. What little time he could get away from hunting, he gave to you. He actively ignored the reason as to why he did, not wanting to admit the truth of it. Knowing it would cause more harm than it was worth. 

But as he sat here, aimlessly staring at the fuzzy figures on the screen, time slowly ticking away, his mind restless and full of scenarios that only seemed to bother him the more they spiralled, he realised maybe the harm had already been done. 

Deciding he’d waited long enough, he dropped the remote in his lap with a huff and took another look at the digital clock beside him. 

4:15 pm. 

He stood up from the bed and gathered his leather jacket and keys to the Impala his dad had officially given to him last month and headed out. Maybe you’d just gotten held up in class. He was no ‘Mr. College,’ but he understood there was a lot on your plate. At least from the last few times he’d come to see you. The stress had almost brought you to tears more than a few times, so he couldn’t understand Sammy’s desire to go. But hey ho, what did he know? He killed monsters for a living.

The rumble of the engine purred beneath him as he started the ignition. The sound echoed in the almost empty lot, bringing a proud smirk to his lips. He still couldn’t believe she was finally his. 

This car had been one of the only other constants in Dean’s life, getting them from A to B, sometimes even calling her home for the night. He knew as soon as his dad handed him the keys and handed him the responsibility of looking after her, he’d do everything in his power to do just that. 

As he drove toward your campus, the signs of autumn were heavily present with the flutters of orange and yellow leaves falling from the trees; his mind drifted to thoughts of you again. 

He had met you a year ago, having rolled through town to deal with a simple salt and burn case. He was riding solo, his dad dealing with more dire matters, like a fresh trail on Yellow Eyes. Sam had left a few months prior to go make it as a hotshot lawyer in California, leaving Dean alone in the aftermath. 

The fight between Sam and John had been ugly. Dean resorted to the middleman, as usual. He was proud of Sammy, more so that he was actually able to stand up to John, but he couldn’t help but feel the sting of abandonment. What did he have other than this job and his loyalty to finding the thing that took his mother?

After he wrapped up the case, he’d treated himself to a celebratory drink at one of the local bars, which happened to be a student hot spot, and that’s where he’d met you. 

He had noticed you almost immediately. You were breathtaking, and he’d found himself glancing in your direction more often than not, watching as you’d laughed and drank with your friends. You were so carefree, beautiful, and way out of his league for many reasons. Those reasons only multiplying once he’d gotten to know you, and they still rang true to this day.

You’d caught him staring; eventually, he’d seen your eyes flicker in his direction a few times. Despite his own self-deprecations, Dean knew he was good-looking, knew the effect he had on women, and he was surprisingly good at playing the confident ‘bad boy.’. 

He’d never really given much thought to anything other than a one-time thing. For one, it was easier that way. He never stayed in one place for longer than a couple of days, and secondly, his job wasn’t your normal 9 to 5, and having attachments was dangerous. 

However, as soon as you’d made your way over to him, after what had looked like some encouragement from your friends, and introduced yourself with that faux drunk confidence, he was hooked. 

At the time, you had just entered your senior year, and you had told him of your plans to take a gap year once you’d graduated. Like Dean, you felt a little lost in life, though for completely different reasons. Your major was something your father had insisted on, despite it not being what you had wanted to do. Apparently his plan was to have you work at his company, maybe even take over for him one day, but you hated all that corporate bullshit. 

So Dean already could relate. A demanding father whose opinion was the one and only. Maybe he did understand why Sam had left more than he originally thought. Like right now, he had this mission, his dad’s mission, yet once that was over, what next? Did he just continue what he was doing? Living off of stolen credit cards, diner food, and cheap motel rooms?

The more he got to know you, your desires and dreams to travel the world, live, and experience life, he found himself picturing that, wanting that too. You had a way of making everything seem brighter and more hopeful, making him feel like there was more to life than just a ‘job.’. 

He knows now why he kept coming back to you, why he still keeps coming back. Because for once in his life he felt seen, felt wanted, understood. And maybe it was time for him to tell you that. To tell you the truth. Consequences be damned. 

However, it was all wishful thinking, and Dean’s search for you was cut short when he spotted you walking out of the student library, your beautiful smile and sounds of laughter filtering through his open window, and beside you, another man. 

He felt his chest constrict, his stomach churn uncomfortably at the sight. His knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tight. He rolled to a stop and watched as you continued to laugh at whatever this douchebag was saying to you. 

He knew he had no right to be jealous. You weren’t exclusive. He was the one who’d made that clear, and surprisingly you had been okay with it. You didn’t know what he really did for a living, just that he had to travel a lot for ‘the family business.’. 

Though, with his recent self-revelation that his feelings for you ran much deeper than something casual, this felt like a punch to the gut. Maybe this was a sign that this whole thing was a bad idea. Why getting close to someone was not on the cards for him. Of course you would’ve met someone else. How could you not? You were beautiful, smart, funny, and sweet. Why would you wait around for some drifter like him? 

With his insecurities rearing their ugly head, threatening to swallow him whole, he failed to notice the two pairs of eyes on him. It wasn’t until there was a light rap at the window that he snapped out of his thoughts. He jumped a little and looked to where you were leaning down beside the partially opened glass, your expression surprised, but you were smiling nonetheless. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Came your innocent question, but it just seemed to rub him the wrong way, that and he noticed that guy lingering a few feet behind you, looking around awkwardly. 

“It was getting late; I thought I’d come see if you were okay, but I can see you’re busy.” He spoke the last words with a little more venom as he nodded to the lingerer. And he hated the slight dip in your brow and the downturn of your lips. 

“I was actually on my way to see you now.” You began, your voice light but weary. “I’m sorry I got held up. Alex just needed some help, and time got away from me.” Your explanation did nothing to calm his nerves. In fact, it made him feel worse. Like he didn’t matter. Again he had no right, but he was already spiralling. 

“You know what? It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged you off. “I’m going to have to cut this trip short anyway. Dad called; gotta meet him a few states over.” The lie came easily, but the knife in his heart twisted with each word. You frowned at him, he saw it in his peripheral, but he refused to meet your eyes. He couldn’t. 

“Alex, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He heard you say before you walked around the car and abruptly slipped into the passenger side. 

“What are you doing?” His question came out more snappish than he intended. You folded your arms and sat back in your seat, looking much like a stubborn child.

“We’re going to talk.” You shrugged as if that were obvious. “We can either do that here or back at the motel; your choice.” You levelled him with an unwavering stare, one that crushed his resolve and had him grumpily starting the engine and driving back to the motel. 

You walked past Dean as he opened the door for you, your eyes widening a fraction at the state of the room. It had certainly seen better days; the wallpaper was faded and peeling from the walls, and the carpet had a questionable amount of stains on it. From what? You didn’t hope to find out. He usually stayed in much nicer rooms, but seeing as it was close to the holidays, this was probably all he was going to get. 

You plopped down on the squeaky mattress and looked at him. He was avoiding your eyes, shifting awkwardly in his spot. You’d never seen him this worked up. You liked to think you knew Dean rather well, at least him as a person. He still kept some things to himself, like the details of the job he did with his dad. Sometimes he came to you looking so haunted, but those times weren’t spent with much talking. 

You were beyond curious; Dean was a mystery you were still trying to unravel. However, you knew your standpoint: that you weren’t his girlfriend and never would be. He’d made it clear from the beginning that he didn’t want to make a commitment, yet he kept coming back for you. You didn’t push him as to why he did, in fear he would stop altogether. 

If you were honest with yourself, you had fallen in love with him months ago. Yes, your situation was complicated, and he never stuck around longer than a couple of days. But Dean was special; he wasn’t like the guys you knew at college or in your life in general. He was wise beyond his years, thoughtful, funny, and smart, despite how much he called his younger brother the “brains of the family.” And he was also one of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on. 

“What was that back there?” You decide to just rip the Band-Aid off. You had a pretty good idea, but you wanted to hear it from him. He finally looked to you then, his posture straightening, his arms folding across his chest as if in a defensive stance.

“I told you, I was just checking to see if you were okay.” He spoke as if he didn’t really care for the conversation, but his jaw was ticking, and his brow remained furrowed. “I have to leave, so can we make this quick?” 

It was your turn to frown then. Admittedly, his words stung; you hadn’t even had the chance to see him yet, and now he wanted to leave all of a sudden. 

“Is this because of Alex?” 

“What? No!” His response was quick and higher in pitch, and it only confirmed your assumptions. He was jealous. 

“You know he’s only a friend, right?” You offer, biting back your smile. 

“And? Why would I care who you’re friends with?” He grumbled and looked down at one of the stains on the carpet beneath his boot, fixating on it as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. 

“It just seems like you do it all.” You shrugged nonchalantly, though your voice tinged with something akin to a teasing tone. His eyes flickered back up to yours, darker than you were expecting. 

“You think I care who you hang around with? Who do you date? I don’t own you. If you want to meet guys and have boyfriends, then go ahead; I’m not stopping you.” His voice rose an octave with each word, his body trembling slightly as he unleashed kept feelings out into the open. 

“It’s not like everyone I’ve ever cared about or loved sticks around. I mean, why would they? I’m a freak, a loser.” He reveals, his eyes widening slightly at his unmeant confession. You sit in stunned silence, not expecting that outburst from him. 

“So if we’re done here, I have to leave.” He quickly adds, embarrassed and angry at himself for saying those things. Things he’d wanted to keep buried and never allow to see the light of day. He hastily begins collecting his things; there's not much, but there’s enough to give you time to snap out of your stupor. 

“Hey.” You grab onto his arm with enough force to stop him from picking up his duffle. He obliges you, but you know you have to select what you say next carefully; otherwise, you’re uncertain as to if you’d ever see him again.

“I don’t know where all that came from, but I don’t think you’re a freak or a loser.” You frown sympathetically at him. It hurt you to hear him speak so lowly of himself.

“Dean, I think the world of you.” You admit it, and his eyes flicker to yours, uncertainty shining in those pools of green. “I know our situation isn’t ideal or even normal, but in this last year of knowing you, I think you’re amazing.” 

“You do?” The question slips out involuntarily, but your responding smile is warm and calms his nerves a little. 

“Dean, you’re the best person I know, the only person I want to see. I haven’t said anything because I know you didn’t want a commitment, but dammit, I love you. I am in love with you.”

Your last word is cut off by the sudden press of his lips. Your surprise squeak quickly turns into a grateful sigh. And you wrap your arms around his shoulders and neck as he hugs you closer to him. 

He breaks away after a few minutes, your breaths mingling in the small gap between where his forehead rests against yours. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s not what you were expecting him to say, but you allow him the time to speak. “I overreacted, and I had no right to.” 

You cup his smooth cheek, which he leans into, and offer him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay.” You swipe a thumb across his cheekbone, and he takes comfort in your touch. 

“I just. I have something I need to tell you. Something I’ve kept from you, been keeping from you.” He sighs, his face tormented and sad as he pulls away. It’s worrying you, but you try to internalise it for his sake. He takes your hand and guides you to the bed until you’re both sitting side by side. 

“Dean, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?” You tell him honestly. He seems to be battling in his own mind, his internal struggle present in his rigid form and fidgeting hands. 

He huffs out a humourless laugh and rubs a hand down his face before looking at you. Really looking, and you sit quietly, but strong, showing him you’re there and are willing to listen. 

“There’s a reason I never told you what I did for a living.” He begins. “For one thing, I didn’t even think we’d even get this far, and there was no point to put that on you.” He shakes his head, his heartbeat in his ears, his stomach in knots. 

“And secondly, it’s dangerous. My job is dangerous, and I’d never want anything to happen to you.” He looks at you pleadingly, and you nod, despite the swarm of questions flooding your mind. 

Meanwhile, Dean blows out a nervous breath; he can’t believe he’s going to tell you the truth. Something he’d been the most adamant about not doing. Though he is in too deep, he knows that now, and you had a right to know, a right to run for the hills about what he was going to confess. He’d even agree with you when you called him crazy and walk out that door and never bother you again if that’s what you wanted. Selfishly, he hopes that isn’t the case, but you had a right to choose. 

“I’m a hunter.” He begins, and it hangs heavy in the air for two different reasons. For you, you’re a little confused, not understanding the dire build-up and Dean because he was unveiling his and his family’s biggest kept secret. 

“To clarify, I don’t hunt deer, elk, or critters in the woods.” He explains, but the alarming look on your face at the only other possibility to you has him panicking. “Not humans either.” He adds with a nervous chuckle, and you visibly relax. 

“I hunt monsters.” He reveals, and you stare at him dumbly for a moment. 

“Monsters?” You repeat, and Dean nods in confirmation. “As in the bogeyman?” 

“Sometimes, yeah.” Dean shrugs as if that was a casual thing to admit. You blink at him, as if you’re trying to process his words, but they don’t quite fit together in your mind. Monsters?

Your heart is pounding now, your mind racing, but all that comes out of your mouth is a shaky laugh, laced with disbelief. “Monsters?” You repeat, your voice thin and tight, like you’re testing the word on your tongue to see if it makes sense.

Dean’s face falls, and for the first time you see him as vulnerable as he’s ever been. There’s something desperate in his eyes, a plea for understanding that only seems to make the pit in your stomach widen.

“Yeah,” he says softly, nodding, but his voice cracks with the weight of the truth he’s just unleashed. “I hunt things that go bump in the night. Demons, ghosts, things like that. Creatures that don’t belong in this world.”

The room feels suddenly smaller. The air thicker. You look at him, your head spinning, and you can feel your pulse quicken as panic starts to creep in. A part of you wants to laugh it off, because this is crazy. There’s no way this could be true, right? Dean isn’t telling you the truth. It has to be some messed-up way for him to push you away.

A cold, sinking feeling settles deep in your chest. “Are you... are you serious?” Your voice comes out shaky, a whisper of disbelief hanging in the air. “Is this some kind of joke? You’re telling me... You hunt monsters?”

His expression tightens, lips pressed into a thin line, as if your question just added a fresh layer of weight to what he’s already carrying. “I’m not joking. I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. Since one of those bastards took my  mom." The room grows silent, both of you respectively reeling from his admission. 

You had always figured Dean’s mom wasn’t in the picture for the pure fact he’d only ever spoken of his dad or younger brother. For what reason you never knew; however, the truth of it was more devastating than you could comprehend. 

When he looks at you again, there’s a pain in his expression that you don’t think you’ve ever seen before, and it’s then you decide this isn’t some elaborate story to make a break-up easier on him or to spook you just for the fun of it. This was very real, and this man had been living it. 

“This life… it’s dangerous. The people I meet, the things I fight, they’ll come after anyone I care about. I never wanted to put you in that position.” Dean says, his voice breaking. “I wanted to keep you safe; you deserve so much more than this, than me. You deserve the truth.”

You stand there, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of the words he’s spoken, but it’s like your entire world has been turned upside down. Dean is telling you about this huge part of his life that he’d kept from you, and you can’t tell if you should be running for the door or if you should stay and try to understand him, to understand this.

“But why? Why did you even let me in?” You ask, your voice catching on the last word. The question haunts you, and you need to understand the answer, even though a part of you is scared of hearing it.

Dean’s eyes soften, and for a moment, you see the man behind the mask, the man who is so full of fear, so full of love, and so completely torn apart. “Because I love you,” he says simply, his voice soft but resolute. “I love you, and I never wanted to hurt you. But I don’t know how to make you understand what I do. How dangerous it is. How it’s too late for me to just stop, even if I wanted to. It’s all I’ve known.”

You’re frozen in place, the weight of his words hitting you harder than anything else. He loves you. It’s the last thing you expected to hear, the last thing you thought you’d ever get from Dean, especially now. But somehow, despite the chaos of it all, you feel your heart calm, just a little. Because the truth is, you really do love him. Despite everything.

You close your eyes for a moment, your mind racing with the enormity of what he’s just confessed. You want to scream, you want to run away and pretend none of this ever happened, but you can’t. You’re not that person. You can’t walk away from him, not now, not after everything you’ve felt for him.

You take a deep breath, forcing the words out, even as they feel foreign and strange in your mouth. “I... I don’t understand this. I don’t get it. But I do get you, Dean. I know who you are, even if I don’t know everything about your life.” You pause, letting the silence hang between you, both of you drowning in the weight of the moment.

And then, almost in defiance of the terror bubbling up inside you, you take a step forward. “I’m scared, Dean. I don’t know what this means for us. But I don’t want to lose you.”

Dean’s eyes flicker, relief and gratitude flooding his face. Slowly, carefully, he reaches out and takes your hand in his. “You won’t lose me,” he promises, his voice barely above a whisper, but the conviction in it is enough to make your heart steady, even if just for a second.

You reach up and press your lips to his, the simple action bringing you the sense of comfort and relief you both needed after such a heavy moment. Dean responds in kind, his hands firm and strong as he holds you close, his kiss soft yet purposeful, charged with an unspoken understanding of what kind of life you were agreeing to embark on. 

There’s so much left unsaid, so much you’re both struggling to understand. But for now, in this small, broken room filled with the weight of the truth, you both know one thing: neither of you is ready to let go just yet.

As you both part, Dean exhales a long, tired breath. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and in that simple gesture, you can feel the conflict in him, the rawness of everything he's kept buried for so long. And yet, as much as he's terrified of the future, of what this could mean for both of you, there's something almost peaceful in his presence now, as if admitting the truth has, for just a moment, allowed him to let go of the weight he’s been carrying.

“I don’t want to drag you into my mess,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next. But I want you to know, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Whatever it costs.”

You look at him, really look at him, seeing all the layers that lie underneath the bravado, the smirks, and the jokes. The broken man who’s been carrying this burden alone for too long. Your heart aches for him, for everything he's had to endure. And as much as the idea of what he does terrifies you, as much as the danger and uncertainty swirl around the edges of your thoughts, there’s still a part of you that feels steady.

You take a deep breath, your thumb gently rubbing the back of his hand. “I’m scared too, Dean. But I won’t walk away from you. Not because of this. But you’re right, we need to figure out what this means. All of it.”

His gaze softens, the hardness in his face fading just a little. “You don’t have to be a part of this. You don’t have to be involved.”

You shake your head, smiling gently. “I don’t know what the future holds, Dean. But if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that I don’t want to face it without you. Not if you’ll let me.”

The silence stretches between you, but it’s not suffocating anymore. It’s not filled with uncertainty or confusion. It’s a quiet understanding, the kind you only get after sharing something raw and unfiltered. He studies you for a long time, his expression softening, before he finally nods. There’s something fragile in that nod, something unspoken that passes between you.

“I didn’t think you’d say that,” he admits, his voice almost a whisper, like he’s afraid saying it out loud might shatter something delicate. “But I’m glad you did.”

You cup his face softly in both of your hands, a simple gesture that means everything right now. “We’ll figure it out,” you say softly. “Together.”

Dean lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it for a lifetime, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders loosens. The truth may have ripped through the air, but it’s not the end. It’s only the beginning.

AN: Hi all, I'm baaaack lol. This purely came out of the gif above and took on a mind of it's own 😅 what originally started as a jealousy fic turned into a; show some young Dean love fic 😂 I guess this can be perceived as a more positive outcome of him confessing his true life to someone he loves. I hope you guys enjoy ☺️

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Bachelors reacting to a farmer who is a famous author with plenty of books under their belt?

Sure thing :D Thanks for your ask, dear anon!

_________________________________________

Elliott:

Elliott had recognised Farmer as soon as they first met near Willi's shop. And how could he not - a famous writer in the horror genre, whose lines skilfully present anxiety and intrigue to the reader, had come here to Stardew Valley! On top of that, it was Farmer who was the one who inspired the ginger writer not to give up on his writing path despite the comments of others. Naturally, the two will find quick common ground, exchange ideas and advice about their work (if Farmer continues to write novels in addition to their new job), or just relax over a mug of strong ale. Elliott is delighted to meet them and hopes that the Valley will become a home and a place of inspiration for Farmer, just as it has become a home for Elliott.

Sebastian:

At first, Sebastian couldn't believe his own ears when he heard Farmer's first and last name during their meeting, but then, upon asking Farmer again a little later, they confirm the local emo's speculation. The new farmer who has taken over their grandpa's old house is the author of all five volumes of Cave Saga, his favourite books! Sebby loves science fiction and sci-fi, and Farmer's works in this genre are bestsellers in the Republic and a gem in Sebastian's personal collection of his books and comics. He will be a little awkward at first to approach them due to his shyness and reluctance to show himself like an obsessive fan or something. But Farmer turned out to be a very chill and nice person, with whom Sebastian became friends pretty quickly.

Shane:

After Shane had replied to Farmer upon introduction in a not too polite manner, he wondered if somewhere he had heard their surname/name before. Not the chatter of townsfolk who were intrigued by the new resident of the Valley, much earlier. The realisation came when he started reading Jas her favourite bedtime story (which Shane also secretly loved) in the evening. "The Brave Little Sapling. Author-" !!! No way... Could it be a coincidence? But overheard conversations of others confirm that Farmer is the same author. Sigh... Though it's a children's book, it raised some pretty adult issues, and helped Shane to not give up and to appreciate what we have. He doesn't know how to address Farmer now, after a not very great first meeting, but he thinks it's worth apologising at least.

Alex:

Perhaps Alex would have reacted to the news that Farmer was a famous writer more surprised or enthusiastic. The thing is - and he's ashamed to admit it - he hasn't read very many books in his entire life. Athlete, however, wants to catch up, and has been blowing the dust off some of the books on his shelf since last week. Most of them were as boring as integrals, to be honest, but 'Jack Be Nimble, Jack Be Thick' has become his favourite. Easy to understand, lots of pictures, some puns, and very cool tips for him - no wonder it's the most popular according to reviews. "This is my first volume, I already wrote a second one." Wait... Farmer is the author of this book? Hey, there's so much great advice in there! That's awesome! Now Alex is super excited.

Sam:

Not to say that Sammy is a big fan of books, he's more of a comic book fan, but there are a couple of exceptions. One great fantasy book, based on which people created some great video games and produced a lot of comics - naturally the young guitarist, who loved the franchise, wanted to know the source material, and the book was even more interesting. When he mentioned it to Farmer, the Valley's newest resident, about it, they told him they were the author of the book. Which made Sammy's jaw drop with shock. He couldn't contain his delight and would ask questions about the fictional world, but wouldn't disturb their peace if they didn't want to. Whether they continue write or not, Sam will thank them for a great book and a cool fictional world Farmer created.

Harvey:

Hmm, funny coincidence..... The surname of the new resident of the Valley and Harvey's patient is exactly the same as the surname of the author of one of the most popular love novels, "The Apple Orchard." Yes, the doctor is a fan of this book series, he's not just into medical reference books and encyclopaedias about aeroplanes, you know. True, now he's heard that the author wanted to retire... "Well, not exactly, I wanted to take up farming and make writing a hobby again, not a full-time job." Not a coincidence, then... Harvey is pleasantly surprised that his new friend is his favourite writer, also a decent man and a calm patient during check-ups. The relationship won't change much, the doctor doesn't want to inundate Farmer with a bunch of questions about book universe. Maybe later, if they want to talk about their novels over a cup of coffee.

[witchthewriter]

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I combined a few requests together for this post. Hope you don't mind that! I think it works though! Also, with the nsfw it's more geared to female presenting people.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

・It was sunset and Jade had already led you to the bar.

・His hands were fidgety, and it gave you a bit of relief; since you thought you were going to have a panic attack every second of today.

・But the anxiety slowly seeped away when you were with Jade

・And when you entered the usually messy bar, you couldn't help but grin.

・Jade had gathered as many candles as he could and lit them throughout the bar, trying to create a certain atmosphere

・You two were in the throes of a new relationship; testing the waters, trying to keep something alive in this town was nearly impossible - since everyone wanted to leave

・One thing that you've found is that whenever you're in the room, Jade is usually staring at you

・You've noticed him do little things for you, that he would absolutely never do in a million years

・It's what made you like him more and more. Special treatment was nice.

・It was you who brought up the idea;

"I thought, maybe, since ya know ... I was just wondering if I could stay the night at the bar. The Matthews have kind of taken over the house..."

He gave a small smile, which turned into a smirk.

"I can't argue against that."

・You could tell he was flirting and a burst of butterflies erupted in your stomach. It always did around Jade. You wished you could control yourself better...

・So this would be your first time alone, at night, together.

・When the time came to close the curtains and lock the doors, you were already having a drink with Jade

・He had made certain that no creature could enter the bar; especially not when someone as precious as you was there

・Jade felt this overwhelming need to protect you. To take care of you, to be some sort of ... guardian.

・He's never felt that way before.

・Not until you had waltzed into town (okay not waltzed but you know what I mean) and threw yourself into theories, experiments; ways to get out of here

・Unlike some people who seemed happy to go along with their day to day duties

・Jade liked you because of your passion.

・And now, after two of those horrible homemade drinks, you were flushed, with a heavily beating heart.

・Jade still looked handsome, even though he looked a mess.

・He was in the middle of telling you a story, of telling you things that he would never say to anyone else.

・Both of you were on the bench, your hand barely brushing his very larger one.

"...and now I'm here! In some sort of hell...although it can't be hell. Because you're here." He mumbled on, his own cheek feeling flush.

・Your pinky wrapped around his and he squeezed.

"Thank you for telling me," you said quietly, and slowly turned to look Jade in the eyes, "-I want you to know I'm here for you."

・A shiver went up Jade's spine, his neck was giving away his feelings. You couldn't help but smile.

・But then a shiver went down your own spine, for an entirely different reason.

・Knock...knock...knock...

A high pitched, 'kind' voice sounded from behind the door.

"Hello? Is anybody in there? I need some help!"

・You and Jade looked at each other, his hand coming to clasp your own.

He moved closer to you, and whispered in your ear, "It's alright, everything is locked. We have the talisman. They'll leave."

・He nodded his head and motioned for you to take a few deep breaths. You did.

"I know you're in there! Jade, and his new love!" The woman taunted.

・Those words struck Jade to the core. If they knew that. Then the creatures would surely use it against him somehow.

・But he didn't want to worry you, so he just smiled, and thought of a way to release you both from the clutches of fear.

"Trust me?" Jade said, entwining your fingers.

"Yes," your response came out as a whisper.

・Standing up, he lent you against the bench and went about starting to blow out the majority of the candles.

・Then he brought the rest into his room and beckoned you to follow.

・Walking in after him, he placed the candles down and closed the door.

・It felt safer in here. It did. Because you couldn't hear the taunting.

"You can...sit down if you like."

"Thanks," you chuckled and sat on the bed. Taking off your shoes and socks.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

You Fall First (You) x They Fall Harder (Jade)

Overly Arrogant, Flirty (Jade) x Absolutely Unfazed (You)

Oblivious (You) x Constantly Admiring Them (Jade)

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Intertwined Destinies

Shared Vision and Purpose

Bickering and Banter

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Hold On by Tom Waits

R U Mine by the Arctic Monkeys

Back To Black by the Brian Ferry Orchestra

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・As a lover, Jade is all-consuming. He loves taking charge (when he knows you're completely onboard with it)

・However, he does love to make you squirm. To slowly place kisses here and there, his breath hot, tongue lightly licking as he goes along.

"You're not being fair," you whine, drowning out the fear that was once holding you back.

"je te savoure," is his reply. Low and gravelly.

・Jade's large hands gently remove your shirt, and then with a nod of your head, he unclasps your bra

・Laying you down gently onto the bed, he takes off his shirt and balances himself on the bed

・You can't help but giggle, it's such a small bed. It's better than nothing...

・Jade smiles back at you, but it turns into a smirk. His eyes darken, and your nipples harden.

"You're okay with this?" He near-growls.

"Yes, now come here-"

・You saw his length harden through his pants as you moved to touch your bare breasts. Massaging and pinching your nipples.

・Jade climbs ontop of you, hovering above you

・Your legs wrap around his waist, which forces Jade to lower himself to you.

"I want you," Jade said close to your ear, then he started nibbling on your earlobe.

・Reaching out, you started touching him. His shoulders, neck, arms. He was so warm. And had many freckles.

・Your mouth kissed his shoulder and you finally got to taste him. Salty, musky, you could slightly taste the soap he's been using.

・You gave his shoulder a small bite and he laughed, doing the same to you.

"You don't understand how much I've needed you. Not just like this; underneath me. But, close. To be able to call you mine."

・Goosebumps erupted all over your skin, you didn't realise how much he wanted you. Because fuck, you've wanted him for so long.

"I am yours."

[divinebeautyrevealed2]

Top Five Models: Bio for Veronika Zemanova.

"I was born in a small city in the Bohemian region of the Czech Republic on the 14th of April, 1975. My childhood in The Czech Republic was a lot different than it would have been either in another time (for instance now, after the fall of Communism) or another place (like in the West). Although it was different, it was still wonderful, as all childhoods should be. My parents were great and I had a lot of good friends. At an early age I became very interested in biology and the visual arts. I dreamed then of becoming a biologist. In 1989, I entered my first year of gymnasium (or high school, as Americans call it). This happened to be the year that everything changed for everyone, not only in the Czech Republic, but in all of what used to be the Eastern Bloc. The first years of the new system were particularly difficult years for just about everyone. It was during this time that many beautiful Czech girls left for the West, looking for opportunities to make more money than they had a chance to earn in the Czech Republic. I was, of course, too young to leave, so I stayed and finished gymnasium."

"After gymnasium, I spent three years at a photography school. To make for money for school (which was expensive) and living expenses, I did a whole bunch of different things: I was a bartender, a saleswoman for such things as wallpaper and photographic equipment, and I started my own photo studio. The studio was just beginning to be successful when someone stole all of the very expensive equipment, some of which I had not even paid for yet. At this point I was forced to return to working for other people (I much prefer working for myself). I bought a large make-up kit and began working as an assistant to photographers and make-up artists. It was very difficult work and did not always pay that well, but I enjoyed myself and learned a lot that is useful to this day. One day, I had a big job scheduled for the next day and was preparing for it when I realized that someone had stolen my entire make-up kit! I went to the photographer in tears of frustration to tell him that I could not do the work. He suggested that I work the event as a model instead. Thus began the wonderful modeling career of Veronika Zemanova!"

"I was very surprised to find that after that first modeling job (which I hadn't believed I was pretty enough for) I was being offered all kinds of other modeling jobs all over the world. Initially all I wanted to do was to make enough money to pay off all of the equipment that had been stolen, but soon I had made enough to not only pay that back, but had enough to start an entirely new and better studio. I was working at the studio as a photographer, agent, and make-up artist while also doing modeling work for others. Soon however, the modeling became too time consuming for me to put in the necessary hours at the studio, and so I sold the studio. These first years of modeling were not easy! Remember, at first I did not speak any English at all! Being in new countries alone, finding myself in strange and even risky situations, and so forth. However, I don't want to sound as though it was only bad or difficult; I was able to travel extensively, it was exciting work, I learned English (finally!), and made many beautiful photos of which I am still proud. And good money!"

"After I had been modeling for a while, I decided to start a web-site with an Italian photographer. The idea to do this came about after seeing so many photos of myself on the web. Eventually however, I decided to disassociate myself from the site, and am no longer connected to it in any way."

"I created my own web-site and it was very successful. I believe this will be the best site of its kind and that I will really enjoy the chance to not only model, but photograph, act as an agent, and maybe even do make-up! I hope you enjoy it as much as I will enjoy creating it!"

"I always wanted keep my private life totally unknown to the public. That is what all the glamour models do. But I have decided to break the rule to reveal that I was married on November 12, 2003, in a ceremony performed on the beach of the island of Mauritius. I did it because I am in love. I have also decided to quit my glamour-modeling career. I had a choice between a career or a good relationship. I have chosen to make the man I love feeling happy and comfortable with me. This is why I have chosen to stop modeling. Do you think this is risky? But that's what love is about. You need to take risks. Please do not be sad for it and wish me luck."

Veronika's modeling career which began in ernest in 1997 would end after a 12 year run in 2009. Those years would furnish us with well over 30000 photographs and videos which will forever immortalize the beauty which was/is Veronika for this generation and those to come. Her very last professionally taken photo was shot by Scotty JX at her Ibiza property on Sept. 28, 2009.

Even the photographers who worked with Veronika were awe struck by her beauty as a few of them recount below:

Early on Veronika went to Italy and worked with such greats as Roberto Rocchi and Alberto Magliozzi. Roberto Rocchi even went on to quote in his book "Forme e Percorsi Del Corpo" that Veronika was "a wonder of nature".

J.Stephen Hicks went on to write in his Hall of Fame post about his experience with Veronika:

"Veronica Zemanova was (and is) truly one of a kind. And I was the first American photographer to shoot her. Someone from Prague (can you believe I don't remember who) sent me photos of her and I (we) immediately made it our mission to contact her, fly her to the U.S. and shoot her. We agreed by e-mail to do several days of work in our studio in L.A. and then fly her to Mexico for additional scenes. Upon arriving at LAX, Veronica was shy and honestly a bit untrusting. She'd just turned nineteen at the time and was green in every way. Veronica grew up in a little Czech town called Ceske Budejovice and her beginnings were poor and without stability. One thing was for sure, Veronica had no idea how truly beautiful she was."

"We spent the first days shooting her giving her complete direction. Seriously, dictating every move of her body from head to toe, including expressions. It was a bit like working with a perfect doll that we were animating. And honestly at that point in her evolution, not really trusting us and not really knowing her beauty and being such a newbie model, I think she wasn't having a great time. Despite knowing she was gonna get a bunch of money her modeling personality was kind of benign to be honest. She wasn't mean or bitchy, just kinda stuck in neutral. Funny thing was though, it didn't even matter. 'Cause Veronica was flat out GORGEOUS or would the word be SUBLIME or RAVISHING?"

"Lets just say she was simply STUNNING, BREATHTAKING, and MIND BLOWING"

“We shot her a ton on her first trip to the U.S. and we also took her to Mexico for some unforgettable images. She came back and shot with us several times after her first journey. The last time we shot her she was a few years older, had new boobs (crazy huh?) but best of all she'd met her husband, a man she said loved her more for who she was than what she looked like. And Veronica was beaming, warm and happy. And we were happy for her."

"There will never be another Veronica I'm certain. She was one of kind that will never be reproduced unless computer generated. I consider us oh so lucky to have experienced shooting her at the very best time in her career. Her images of beauty will live on forever".

[raycatz]

some more LU things that throw me for a loop,,

An artist I follow, wilimia, started a LU dnd AU, and then mentioned wanting to make it it's own thing. Shortly after, they received an ask,

"I'd be down for un lu-ing the dnd boys cause I got lu blocked ad hate how it affects most links meet aus, so yeah. If you do that I'd reach non lu audience. Most loz fandom doesn't follow lu blogs"

and idk, I get it, but it's also hard to read. So much of Wilimia's art is LU. It seems like something they found, and still do, find joy in creating for--and for years, too--longer than I've been in the fandom. "Most loz fandom doesn't follow lu blogs." Most loz fandom wouldn't have any interest in the majority of the art Wilimia's shared? Anon would prefer it to be non-lu? It reads to me a little like putting down or dismissing the art just because it's LU. Wilimia's art is amazing. I admire it so much. Their ideas are wonderful, too. And like many other pieces of LU fanart, there's a lot of exploration of comparing and contrasting the games, or analyzing the games, borrowing the LU cast, without explicit connection to the events of the comic itself. So much incredible creativity missed, because it is LU. LU's not for everyone. To each their own, I guess.

But I feel like so much interesting insight into the games is lost if LU fanwork is disregarded simply for being LU.

I also struggle with feeling like I have to choose an audience. I have ideas for pre-LU comics that would tell stories of fun moments from the games, during an adventure--but I want to use the LU heroes because I care more for those interpretations of Link. I'm blending my own game experience and opinion of that Link with what's been provided by the fandom.

I think the stories are fun and worth sharing! However, what tag do I use? It's the Linked Universe design and character, but it's also me, but it's also not Linksmeet or the LU adventure, really. It's LU, it's not LU, it's gen loz, it's both. And yet you'd get scolded for posting LU in the gen loz tags. I feel as though I must choose a side.

For example: there's a moment in OoS where a woman asks you to help her in exchange for a shovel. I got the shovel and then immediately dug up the entire map chunk surrounding her house. It would make for a good comic! But do I make it LU inspired or gen loz? I'd probably use a slightly more generic design for Link (Legend) anyways because he would be younger. Honestly, I could probably get away with barely changing the design at all, tag it as gen loz, and be praised for it.

There's a huge double standard when it comes to LU and Linksmeets. Both argue that not everyone has played all the games. All the interpretations and designs are unique and, at times, should be read as their own aus without worrying too much about adherence to the game or specific comic canon. Characterization and knowledge varies by writer. At the same time, no one person owns specific design elements or traits. Don't worry too much about being too similar. Let people make what they want. Every new instance adds to the wider understanding of the character and is therefore valuable.

Yet, by the people who dislike LU and its fandom and favor other Linksmeets, in LU fandom it's seen as an excuse, and in Linksmeets and gen loz it's seen as a strength.

The character of my comic could barely be LU Legend, and yet if it is LU even in name only, it is disregarded and unwelcome. The character could draw strong influence from Jojo's designs or LU fandom, and if I change one thing only but claim it as my own, it would be praised and defended.

Analysis and discussion in the LU fandom (especially from around 2020) brought me a better appreciation and understanding of the heroes and game similarities then any other kind of online fan created material had.

So for my mini comic- and going off of the anon's ask- what do I do?

I want my work to be seen. I feel like it is valuable to be seen by anyone who enjoys the games. I want to inspire people who see the comic to think more about the games and to create. I don't particularly care through what lense they connect with my gen loz / nebulously LU work--if they apply the situation to their own game experience, gen loz, or to any Linksmeet--if my work has connected with someone- has broadened someone's understanding of a game or character- then my goal has been met. Obviously use the correct tags and credit where credit it due, but if I am making pre-adventure or gen loz stuff, then I want to inspire. Write fic! Add the headcanon to your own! Just like- if you make something based off an idea of mine, include me! We are all building off of each other's stories. It is all inspiration. It's all the same soup.

There is no Linksmeet element. And yet, in my heart, I know the character will become some personal variation of LU Legend, influenced by a variety of fanwork, because that's the interpretation I favor.

If it's tagged gen loz it reaches the broader loz and Linksmeets audiences. If it's tagged LU then it stays within the sub fandom I know and care for. The thing is--it's a pre-adventure story, so it's not solidly one or the other. I don't want to tag it gen loz and have LU fans feel they aren't allowed to think of it as LU Legend. I don't want to tag it as LU and have it be missed by so many people, or have gen loz / linksmeet fans feel they aren't allowed to think to think of it as their own characters either. However, also, why should I be creating for an audience who would disregard so much of my and other's works?

Mina of Mina's Linkverse's recent posts have thrown me for a loop again. She's shared a headcanon post about Twilight Princess Link that delves into how Link, given his background in Ordon, might feel about turning into a wolf. What struggles, but also acceptance and joy, can be found in it. It's beautiful. I'd love to add it as another perspective into my understanding of TP Link--both solely within the game context and also more broadly across a variety of Linksmeets. It's one more way to further appreciate things I already enjoy. However, Mina opened the post with "Dont tag as L/U". Okay, don't tag, but am I allowed to borrow this and apply it to LU Twilight? I relate to it most strongly through that lense. It's a general loz post, and LU is loz. What if I were to apply it to Mina's Fangs, or Em's Wolf, or Frulle's Twilight? If I were to write a LU fic or draw a comic and tagged Mina as inspiration would she take offense? Would it be less of an offense if it was anything but?

Am I as a LU fan allowed to take inspiration from this and put it into LU fanwork? What about LU fanwork that goes more strongly into exploring these themes or situations from the games instead of the comic itself?

It just feels kind of feels like a whole perspective or group is being excluded. I feel like I am being excluded and that I am unwelcome. But, maybe that's just me being an entitled LU fan who thinks everything belongs to them and needs to learn to stay in their lane.

I've considered making multiple versions of the same comic. One that uses the LU design and tag, and one that does not, so that I'm able to reach and be appreciated by both audiences. But, I don't want to have to choose. There would be no difference in the comic but character design and name. And yet, that's all the means necessary to be completely disregarded.

[the-writerwoman]

Finally got round to writing! Just been busy 😂

Here’s the Drabble for the prompt I made myself of if Wade and Logan had a one night stand, and then Wade starts his new job the next day to find out that Logan is his boss!

I still need to write out chapter 4 of What we once were. I’ll try and get that out at some point today or tomorrow 😊

Lets go!

—————————

The bar was humming with quiet energy, the low-key, buzzing atmosphere made people feel like they could unwind or get into a little trouble. Wade strolled in, his sharp eyes scanning the room as he slid onto a stool at the far end of the bar. He ordered a whiskey neat and let his gaze wander, taking in the usual crowd. Couples leaning too close, coworkers unwinding after a long day, and a few loners nursing drinks.

That’s when he saw him.

Stood near the bar, drink in hand, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he surveyed the room was one of the most handsome men Wade had ever seen. His leather jacket looked well-worn, as though it had been through a lifetime of stories, and the subtle way his fingers curled around his glass gave off the impression of someone who knew how to handle himself. Wade couldn’t help but be intrigued. The guy looked serious, intense even, but there was something about him that screamed challenge.

Wade liked a challenge.

Grabbing his drink, Wade slid off his stool and made his way over, adopting a casual lean against the bar near him. He waited a beat for the man to glance his way, and when he didn’t, Wade decided to make his move.

“Hey there,” Wade began, his tone confident but playful. “You must be a magician, because every time I look at you, everyone else disappears.”

The man blinked, slowly turning his head to look at Wade. His dark eyes flicked over him, assessing, and for a moment, Wade wondered if he was about to get told to fuck off, which was quite common. To Wade’s delight, the man’s lips twitched, and he let out a low, unexpected chuckle.

“That usually work?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he took a sip of his drink.

Wade grinned, unflappable. “Depends on how many drinks the person’s had. You seem like a tough crowd, though, so I figured I’d start strong.”

The man shook his head, his smirk widening slightly. “Strong? That’s what you call that?”

“Oh, you think that’s bad?” Wade replied, leaning in just enough to close the space between them without crowding. “I’ve got worse. Wanna hear another one?”

The man tilted his head, as though debating whether to humor him. After a beat, he nodded. “Alright. Hit me.”

Wade straightened, his grin turning mischievous. “Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you.”

The man actually laughed this time, a low, rumbling sound that sent a little thrill through Wade’s chest. “That’s terrible,” he said, shaking his head. “You really go around saying stuff like that to people?”

“Only the good-looking ones,” Wade shot back without missing a beat. “Lucky you, huh?”

The man took another sip of his drink, his smirk lingering. “You always this cheesy?”

“You have no idea,” Wade replied, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “But hey, at least I made you laugh. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

The man gave him a long, measuring look, as though trying to figure him out. “It does,” he admitted finally. “Most people don’t even try to talk to me, let alone… whatever this is.”

“It’s called charm,” Wade said with mock seriousness. “Look it up. But don’t worry, I’m here to make up for all those missed opportunities.”

The man shook his head, clearly amused despite himself. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Stick around, and you’ll find out just how much ‘something else’ I can be,” Wade said with a wink.

The man regarded him with a thoughtful look before deciding on something. He stuck out his hand.

“Logan.”

Wade grinned like he won a prize. He clasped Logan’s hand, giving it a firm shake.

“Wade.”

The drinks kept coming, and with each one, their conversation grew easier, more comfortable. Wade talked about his favorite terrible movies, his inexplicable love for pineapple on pizza (“Don’t judge me—it’s a bold choice, like me!”), and the time he accidentally got locked in a walk-in freezer for an hour during his first job. Logan, in turn, shared snippets of his life, his love of the outdoors, his tendency to collect books he never quite found the time to read, and his fondness for classic rock.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that?” Wade said at one point, swirling his drink. “I figured you for the silent, mysterious type. Turns out you’re kind of an open book.”

Logan smirked. “Only for the people who bother to read.”

Wade leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Well, I hope you’ve got a long sequel planned, because I’m hooked.”

Logan chuckled, his gaze lingering on Wade for a moment longer than necessary. “You’re relentless,” he said again, but there was no edge to it this time. Just quiet admiration.

“Only when it’s worth it,” Wade replied softly, the usual teasing edge in his voice replaced with something more genuine.

By the time the bar began to wind down, the two of them had migrated to a corner booth, their drinks forgotten as they talked about anything and everything. Logan leaned back against the worn leather, his posture more relaxed than it had been all night, while Wade gestured animatedly as he recounted another ridiculous story from his past.

“You’re something else,” Logan said finally, his voice low but warm.

Wade’s grin widened. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“It is,” Logan said simply, his gaze steady. “A big one.”

For once, Wade was momentarily speechless, the sincerity in Logan’s tone catching him off guard. He quickly recovered, though, flashing a cheeky smile. “Careful, Logan. That could be classed as flirting.”

Logan leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Maybe I am.”

The air between them shifted, the playful banter giving way to something quieter, more charged. Wade felt his heart skip a beat, but he played it off with a soft laugh. “Well, lucky for you, I’m into it.”

Logan chuckled, nodding toward the door. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Wade arched an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you’re making the moves? Bold. I like it.”

Logan smirked, standing and grabbing his jacket. “Let’s just say you’ve charmed me into seeing where this goes.”

Wade laughed, following him out of the bar. “Oh, Babycakes, you have no idea what you’ve signed up for.”

As they stepped into the cool night air, Wade felt a rush of excitement unlike anything he’d felt in a long time.

~~

Wade woke up to the faint light of early morning, the blue between night and day, casting soft shadows over the room. For a moment, he didn’t move as he stared at the ceiling. His body still ached pleasantly from the night before, and he felt a warmth in his chest that he wasn’t used to. A warmth that had everything to do with the man sleeping beside him.

Turning his head, Wade looked at Logan. He was still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily, his face soft and peaceful. He looked younger like this than he did last night, the hard edges of last night smoothed out by sleep. Wade smiled despite himself, his fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and trace the curve of Logan’s jaw.

But then reality hit.

This was just a one-night thing, Wade reminded himself. A bit of fun. That’s all it was meant to be. Logan didn’t strike him as the type to be looking for anything serious, and Wade wasn’t exactly great at sticking around when things got complicated. Better to leave now before there were any awkward goodbyes or lingering looks that could mess things up.

Carefully, Wade slipped out from under Logan’s arm, holding his breath as he moved. Logan stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent, but didn’t wake. Wade quickly pulled on his clothes, glancing around the room as he debated leaving a note.

No. Better clean break. He didn’t want to risk Logan feeling obligated to reach out just because Wade left something behind.

With one last glance at Logan, still sleeping soundly, blissfully unaware, Wade slipped out of the apartment and into the cool morning air.

~~

Logan woke a few hours later, stretching lazily as the memories of the night before came flooding back. A small smile tugged at his lips as he rolled over, expecting to find Wade still there.

But the bed was empty.

Logan blinked, his smile faltering as he reached out, his hand landing on the cool, rumpled sheets. He sat up, glancing around the room. “Wade?” he called, his voice rough from sleep.

There was no response.

He got out of bed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants as he wandered through the apartment. The living room was empty, the bathroom door was wide open, and the kitchen was untouched. It didn’t take long for the realization to sink in. Wade was gone.

Logan’s heart sank as he leaned against the kitchen counter, running a hand through his hair. He’d had such a good time last night. Not just the physical part, though that had been incredible, but the way Wade had made him laugh, the way they’d clicked so effortlessly. He’d been looking forward to seeing where it might go, maybe even suggesting breakfast together.

But there was no note, no message, not even a phone number left behind. Just the empty echo of the best night he’d had in a while.

Logan sighed, pouring himself a cup of coffee and staring out the window. Disappointment settled heavy in his chest, and though he tried to shake it off, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d read things wrong. Maybe Wade had just been looking for a bit of fun, nothing more.

Still, as Logan sipped his coffee, he couldn’t quite shake the hope that their paths might cross again. Because if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that Wade had left an impression, one Logan wasn’t likely to forget anytime soon.

~~

Wade adjusted his tie nervously, still feeling the faint sting of guilt from slipping out of Logan’s apartment the previous morning. But he pushed it to the back of his mind. New day, new start, he told himself. Today was his first day at a new job, a marketing company that seemed promising, with good pay and plenty of room for growth. He was determined to make a good impression and keep his focus on work.

He was shown to his cubicle, a small but tidy space surrounded by the usual buzz of office life. Wade spent a few minutes setting up his desk, arranging his pens and notebooks just so, before logging into his computer. He was just starting to familiarize himself with the company software when, about an hour later, a meeting was called.

“Conference room, nine sharp,” a colleague said, leaning over the edge of Wade’s cubicle. “Everyone on the team’s required.”

Wade nodded, grabbing a notebook and pen before joining the stream of employees heading toward the meeting room. He took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and walked inside.

And immediately froze.

Standing at the front of the room, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit that clung to him in all the right ways, was Logan. His hair was neatly styled, his broad shoulders filling out the jacket perfectly, and he exuded an air of authority that made Wade’s stomach flip.

Logan noticed him almost instantly, his eyes widening briefly in shock before he quickly schooled his expression into a mask of professionalism. He turned his attention to the boss at the head of the table, his jaw tight but otherwise unreadable.

Wade felt his blood drain from his face as he took a seat near the back, his mind racing. No. No, no, no. This cannot be happening. He’d known he was starting a new job, but he hadn’t known Logan worked here. And from the looks of it, Logan wasn’t just an employee, he was in charge.

As the meeting began, Wade’s stomach sank further when the boss at the head of the table introduced himself and began outlining the company structure. Wade quickly realized the man speaking wasn’t his direct boss. He was the head of the department. And his actual boss, the person who’d be overseeing his team directly, was none other than Logan.

Wade swore silently in his head. Of all the jobs in the city…

He avoided looking at Logan throughout the meeting, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on his notebook and scribbling aimlessly. But he could feel Logan’s gaze on him every so often, and the weight of it made his skin prickle.

When the meeting finally ended, Wade bolted for the door, keeping his head down as he made his way back to his desk. His heart was pounding, and his mind was spinning with the sheer absurdity of the situation.

[fidenciocryptidcreechur]

Honestly yeah, plus yuu would also end up giving this to everyone else as well considering our lack of healing magic throughout history and thus nearly complete reliance on just the human body having a good enough immune system to get used to or acclimate to bacteria especially considering that just cause someone doesn't get sick doesn't mean they're not carrying it especially if that person has an immunity. I say arguably complete reliance since vaccines and soaps and medicines help but still rely on someone's immune system picking up the slack of whatever the treatment is helping with. Like the immunity or ability to get over an illness or not be affected by bacteria doesn't mean it's not on them or in them per se.

Yuu would both have to worry about the diseases there (arguably a yuu with a rather strong or very adaptable immune system might be okay though they're gonna be off for the first few months and will need to go to the nurse as needed) but also because of the lack of healing magic and healing potions throughout history, they too would likely be a walking plague starter tbh since they're also likely carrying diseases that have had to adapt to earth human immune system and change rapidly quite often in a variety of environments and even adapting between species (bird flu, swine flu) rather than being eradicated relatively quickly with magic or healing potions (assuming they are eradicated and thus an outbreak resolved before that population of bacteria/virus is able to adapt). Also so true about biting and sharing utensils since, for some reason, humans have one of the most diverse microbiomes in their mouths. Main reasons being simply adapting to different diets plus huge diversity in what humans eat and put in their mouths, since many bacteria helps in this regard but these bacteria do cause problems if out of hand or living in places other than the human mouth. Humans have 615 species in their mouth and counting, many of which are unnamed or are difficult to grow and study. The main reason it can have such a huge range of bacteria but not have a problem is simply because of teeth brushing. In comparison dogs have 600 species of bacteria and the reason they have oral problems is because they don't get teeth cleanings as often (dogs do have a natural enzyme to help with their oral health at least). Seriously, imagine being a species that has a history of teeth cleaning, with a modern day routine of dousing it in fluoride (toothpaste plus cleansers) alcohol or antibacterial rinse (mouthwash) and abrasives (tiny grit in toothpaste) and still having a huge amount of stuff going on in the mouth alone. It's natural and healthy but still startling.

Arguably yuu should've either caused an outbreak within the first couple weeks and then end up sick in bed. RIP to everyone honestly.

Would be a fun plague or outbreak au if the bacteria etc started getting funky with magical bodies or being affected by magic itself. Again assuming that earth bacteria is weirdly adaptable and has had more time/opportunity to be extremely adaptable to changes and be better at it versus wonderland bacteria that's likely able to be targeted more directly with magic and potions and thus less opportunity. It would be like introducing a new culture in what was already something that was being maintained or is unused to it. An invasive species. We already have plenty of zoonotic diseases that are able to jump from different species (and quite quickly at that) so it wouldn't be much of a stretch at all for them to rapidly spread throughout the campus.

Fun ideas to be had there

Since yuu is from a different world imagine how dangerous it could be to share the utensils, kiss or bite each other since all the Microorganisms, bacteria etc would all be completely forgein to yuu's body, like if someone were to bite yuu it could have a venom-like effect

[lillytalons]

ADOLIN & MAYA

Apparently I have a ton to say about Adolin and Maya from Wind and Truth.

Spoilers Ahead!! 

Maya getting the deadeyes is like the greatest payoff of finding out about them existing all over Shadesmar and specifically the lost deadeyes on the bottom of the ocean who I had assumed had to have the eternal tragedy of being ‘dead’ and lost forever. The spren coming back to more real life with the reversal of the broken oath to Ba Ado Mishram is just so great. I should remember, there’s pretty much always payoff with Sanderson, even if it takes a while. 

Also the suit up moment had me jumping and celebrating it was just so beyond good. 

Honestly, Adolin potentially living forever without his leg is a cool concept, like the shardplates adjusting for him showing that past radiants didn’t have all their limbs was great but not it also sets Adolin apart again because so many of the radiants would be able to heal themselves, not all obviously but most. I’m excited to explore it in the future.

He got his plate through inheritance and who knows exactly which dead spren it’s made of, but I’d like to think fate was involved. The Plate starting to respond to him like Maya originally did was just beyond amazing. We haven’t seen a lot of differences in living plate yet since we have a small sample size, but so far we know that wind spren can move to others at a drop, and creation spren seem to have a lot more flexibility with form (though that could just be because Shallan thought to ask for it), but the chances that his plates are from the pair with cultivation spren isn’t great. Honestly with the movement and permission, so far I’d say wind Spren but maybe we’ll get that answer eventually. 

Maya being a soldier is just incredible, like she doesn’t seem to remember or mention healing or anything, but she knows war, and is the perfect match for Adolin. Having someone to talk to about everything and someone who really understands the kind of sacrifices he needs to make without a fight has got to be a major benefit for both of them. Most of the Spren now are learning everything from scratch, are very young comparatively, and have to slowly grow memories and the like. But Maya, while silent and relearning how to talk and interact, doesn’t have to be taught about complex ideas. Which is good since she’s basically thrown from talking again to one of the most important battlefields in Roshar’s history. There wasn’t time for ethics/people lessons like Syl and Kaladin had time for. 

Maya is so interesting because we mostly know new spren who have never been bonded and it seems like spren have been staying away from learning about fighting as a whole, their own cultures’ way to avoid the atrocities of the radiants. But the deadeyes have a lot of possible wisdom and such to offer, now that they can talk again. Plus, depending on how old Maya is, she could have been bonded to several soldiers, killed during recreances and bonded to a new one, if she was a solider she would have bonded again, so she understands death. As one of the shards found in an obvious place and protected and passed down, she could have been hooked to important radiants that were in the middle of the fighting. 

And I’m sure there are plenty of cultivation spren like Wyndle that don’t like fighting, wouldn’t have bonded to radiants if at all possible. So spren like Maya would have picked up the slack to keep fighting.

Not to mention, well no one really has stormlight right now, but the potential lessons the unoathed could teach to new and current radiants are huge! Yes the radiants are figuring out a lot and in some ways benefit from not actually having an instruction manual to limit their thinking, but gentle nudges if they’re missing important and useful ways to use lashings will be helpful. Until the heralds come back, or they find more records in Urithiru, the un-oathed are all they have (especially with the Stormfather and his habit of giving visions gone. Lucky Dalinar wrote it down before dying I guess)

Back to the discussion of fate, Adolin’s sword being a cultivation spren just makes sense. He’s barely connected to Honor and Odium, not bowing to the passions and disliking oaths more and more (Dalinar could have learned a bit from him), which means if he’s connected to any of the three shards, it’s Cultivation. And he does have the history of slowly but doggedly cultivating friendships, relationships, building people’s skills, heck even talking to his blade before every battle is much more a cultivation trait than anything else. Despite some of his impulsivity, he’s got an awful lot of patience that most of the characters don’t.

The potential powers for edgedancers are healing and friction. He almost was using friction during many of his fights, especially during his last fight, leaning into the movement of his peg and basically using moments of friction and movement like edgedancers do. He has a history of perfect footwork and movement in his duels. Even leaping and moving across the dome in an insane show of momentum proves my point. 

Then with the healing, he has more respect and understanding of both normal healers and mind healing than most. Beyond that, he’s a good tactician and all, but more and more he hates fighting, doesn’t even really want the duels, he feels very Eowyn coded, can and will fight to the end, but wants to be a healer and focus on growing things (maybe metaphorically). He heals Yawagawn emotionally by seeing he needed a friend and again building him and his skills up.

He remembers those that have been forgotten, whether a lonely boy emperor, a bridgeboy or a young girl who wants to fight, he treated his blade and plate as sentient years before it was even considered that they could be, before anyone knew anything about them, he was ensuring that they wouldn’t be lost forever, which also ties into listening to those who have been ignored. He wants people to be able to make their own decisions and not be beholden to others, whether through class lines or oaths, and it’s so good. He follows the soul of edgedancers and radiants without being beholden to oaths and Honor because he’s seen a lot of things can go wrong with that. And he was right! Beyond never abandoning Maya (which I loved him for) he’s now really free of the issue of Retribution.

And he helped save the only human kingdom to stay free of Odium! He’s just the best.

[mysticeclipses]

Call Of Duty Modern Warfare Catverse

So, I've been sitting on this thought for a while. There's something about hardened military people with cats that just tickles me, and imagining the COD men and women having jobs that center around taking care of cats in one way or another has taken over my mind completely. And as such, why not have them own and work in cat cafes, rescues, pet hotels, the whole shebang? And yes, you'll notice that Kate, Valeria, Farah, and Alex are missing because I haven't narrowed down exactly what I think they'd be doing in this universe, so if you have any ideas don't be afraid to let me know! Same goes for names for their businesses, as I haven't been able to think of anything that fits. I'll probably expand more on this at a later date, but in the mean time, if you have questions, ask them! I'd love to ramble about this little idea of mine.

Jonathan Price: Owner of the first of the big three cat cafes in London, John’s cafe has become his second home, a place where he takes care of any cats that are found injured or are older than most. John provides the less fortunate felines a place to relax and become acclimated to humans, heavy war-torn hands developing a gentle touch for the felines. He retired from his position as Captain years ago, the stress of his military career and countless near-death experiences feeding into unhealthy coping habits that were heavily affecting him physically and mentally. Now, he feels at peace with himself and is happy with where he is at life, no longer wondering if he’d live to see tomorrow. His cafe has adoptable and non-adoptable cats, so they will often host special promotions for their adoptable cats, though he had to ban Nikolai from coming to those events. They already have 10 cats at home, they don’t need any more, but John always finds it funny seeing his husband disguise himself to sneak in to the events. Nikolai stands out like a sore thumb every time, and John always unmasks him, planting a kiss on his lips before sending his husband on his way.

Nikolai: Husband to Price and rescuer, Nikolai stops by at least once a week with new rescues to be integrated into the cafe, sometimes stopping by just to see his husband and his team. Often wandering the streets of London and even traveling to other cities when needed, Nikolai seems to draw the attention of cats wherever he goes, which thankfully makes his job of rescuing much easier. With John’s help, he turned the basement into a recovery space for cats that couldn’t immediately be taken to the cafe, having learned some basic veterinary work for cats with basic injuries and ailments, though he’s still a frequent visitor to the local veterinarian office. He was the one that managed to convince John to retire in the first place, as he couldn’t stand seeing his boyfriend at the time kill himself slowly, and actually proposed the idea of starting the cat cafe after they had gotten married. He is also the reason behind why they now have 10 cats, and whenever he finds out John is having another adoption event, he tries to sneak in. It always fails, but it brings a smile to John’s face every time.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick: The solo barista and self-appointed DJ, Kyle was the first to join John’s cafe only a month after it had opened, falling into his role the quickest out of all the employees. Charismatic, sassy, charming, and stubborn as a mule at times, he picked up on the recipes and techniques for making coffees and teas like it was second nature. Kyle gets people in and out of line at a record pace, and has the best recommendations for drink and pastry combinations for newcomers. Kyle was medically discharged from his role as Sergeant after an accident in a church during an operation, where a helicopter shot the floor apart from under his feet, sending him tumbling several feet too many to the ground before a chunk of what remained fell on top of him. Three of his lumbar vertebrae were fractured, his left sciatic nerve was damaged, and his right femur was broken. It took months of physical therapy before Kyle was able to walk without assistance, and even now, he still deals with intermittent back and leg pain. There’s a chair behind the coffee bar for him to sit on and John keeps his spare back brace in his office, along with plenty of pain meds and heat pads. Kyle’s found comfort and brotherhood with his boss and fellow employees, and when he’s not busy making drinks, he can be found chatting with Soap or cuddling many of the cats.

Simon “Ghost” Riley: Quiet and reserved, Simon is the lead baker and pastry chef for the cafe, having joined the team around two months after Kyle did. Often clad in all black clothing and sporting a black mask that covers his face from nose to chin, Simon prefers to stay in the cafe kitchen, working quietly on new pastries and making sure the display case is always fully stocked until the end of the day. Cakes, cookies, croissants, donuts, tarts, macarons, eclairs, cinnamon rolls; you name it, Simon can bake it, and he finds it very therapeutic too. Simon was also medically discharged from his role as Lieutenant after an incident involving a man named Manuel Roba, having been tortured physically and mentally before he was tossed into a coffin and buried alive, and while he managed to get revenge on Manuel, it left him more broken than he wanted to admit. After many tough sessions with a therapist, Simon knew he needed to start trying to do something other than rot in his apartment alone, so he took up baking as a hobby. Baking taught Simon that he was capable of more than destruction, that he could make beautiful things despite the dirt and blood that stained his hands. And when he landed his job under John’s watchful eye, Simon was able to put the pieces of himself back together with the help of his newfound brothers and some loving felines.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish: Loud, boisterous, confident, chatterbox, all words used to describe one of the later additions to the cafe Johnny, who joined the team seven months after the cafe opened, is in charge of taking care of the cats directly. Whether it be organizing a feeding schedule, clipping their nails, giving them baths, brushing their teeth, or grooming their fur, Johnny is always busy. He’s also the only employee that’s allowed to use John’s credit card, seeing as he often has to go out shopping for food and treats and toys and whatnot. On top of all that, Johnny has also taken over as the cafe’s handyman, quickly fixing any problems that may arise; whether it be behind the coffee bar, in the kitchen, in John’s office, he can fix almost anything on his own or with an extra pair of hands. Johnny chose to leave his Sergeant role after taking a near-fatal shot to the side of his left temple, though some profound hearing loss from all the explosions he created certainly didn’t do him any better during his recovery process. It took Johnny a while to get used to his new hearing aids, and for a while, he detested wearing them because they reminded him of what he lost. Only after getting hired at the cat cafe did Johnny start to become more comfortable with his hearing aids, letting his newfound brethren decorate them to better fit his outgoing personality, and fitting himself effortlessly into their dynamic without disrupting it too much.

Gary “Roach” Sanderson: The youngest and newest addition to the cafe, Gary is the resident nightguard and secondary handyman to Johnny, having joined about a year after the cafe had opened. Gary is the quietest of all the employees, often only communicating through BSL or writing on a notepad that he keeps in his back pocket, but he’s the most expressive of all the employees despite that. He wears a tan face gaiter that covers him from nose to chin, and can sometimes be seen with two homemade antennae secured to his hair with small clips, which the cats love to play with. More often than not, Gary is only seen at night when he comes in to watch the cafe, but if Johnny ever needs a spare set of hands, he’ll come in to help when Nikolai isn’t available, albeit rather sleepily. Gary also chose to leave his Sergeant role after being betrayed by his general, getting shot in the chest and nearly burning alive before someone in his squad managed to save him. He was left with many burn scars and damage to his vocal chords after so much smoke inhalation, making his voice gravelly and painful to use for long periods of time, so hearing him speak is considered a privilege, along with a sign of trust among his fellow brothers in arms. After so long of feeling undervalued, underappreciated, and unconfident, Gary has found a place that sees his importance and makes sure he knows it.

Alejandro Vargas: Co-owner of the second of the three big cat cafes in London, Alejandro’s cafe takes in cats that are rescued from abusive or neglectful homes, spending countless hours of his time gaining their trust in order to get them comfortable around other cats and humans. He also took the time to put higher perches and hiding spots into his cafe for the cats during their adjustment periods, so he always lets patrons know that some cats are more skittish than others and to let those cats come down on their own accord. Alejandro is not afraid to confront patrons who disregard the rules that are set in place and has banned several people from coming back, though it isn’t something he particularly enjoys doing. Alejandro is still Colonel of Los Vaqueros, and now that they’ve finally started cracking down on the Las Almas Cartel and getting closer to putting El Sin Nombre behind bars, he’s allowed himself to take a step back and explore what else he wanted to do with his life. Still, every few months, Alejandro will fly out to Mexico to be back on the field with his team and even offers them jobs at his cafe for when they finally clean up the streets of Las Almas. When he’s not busy with the cafe or working in Mexico, Alejandro often visits the other cafes with his boyfriend, Rodolfo, who gives Alejandro a reason to stay safe while he’s away.

Rodolfo Parra: Co-owner of the cafe alongside Alejandro, Rodolfo, or Rudy as he’s better known as, is an everywhere all at once presence in the cafe, often floating between areas to help wherever it’s needed. Whether it be behind the coffee bar, in the kitchen, at the register, with the cats, or in the office with Alejandro, you’ll rarely not see him working. He also seems to be a cat whisperer, at least that’s what the patrons believe, as he’s the only person certain cats feel comfortable enough with to come down from their perches. Rudy’s clothes are also constantly covered in cat fur since there’s always a cat following him around, and they even enjoy climbing onto his shoulders like he’s their own personal chauffeur. Like Alejandro, Rudy is still Sergeant Major of Los Vaqueros, he’s just on a more extended leave per Alejandro’s request, or rather demand. After a building fire nearly took his life while they were searching for Hassan, Alejandro basically made Rudy take a break from work and join him as his cafe, and Rudy honestly found it both adorable and annoying how much Alejandro fussed over him. He’s finally being allowed to join Alejandro and Los Vaqueros in their pursuit of El Sin Nombre, and as annoyed as he gets with being under Alejandro’s watchful eyes, he wouldn’t change a thing. Reminds Rudy that he has someone who cares right next to him.

Phillip Graves: Owner of the last of the big three cat cafes in London, Graves and his cafe takes in exclusively black cats, giving the most misunderstood felines a second chance to find a home. A cat person at heart, he started his business in remembrance of his childhood pet, Speck. Speck was a grey ocicat that had garnered the nickname ‘Shadow’ thanks to how it would follow Graves around like his shadow. Graves created his business a few months after leaving the MARSOC Raiders, unable to stomach seeing so many men lose their lives while the Generals and Commandants sat pretty in their offices. He hires fellow ex-military men and women, and after a week of working for him, they become one of his ‘Shadows’. He cares very deeply for his employees, pays them handsomely, makes himself a part of their support system, and often hosts parties or celebrations at his home for holidays and birthdays. Graves will and has dropped whatever he’s doing in order to be there for his employees when they need it. When Graves isn’t busy working, he can often be found at the other cat cafes, simply acting as an annoyance in the corner booths he likes to inhabit. He’s a bit of a pain in the ass, but with his suave charm and southern accent, it’s impossible to stay mad at him for very long. Especially not when he breaks out his cat eyes or magically pulls the cutest cat from his cafe out from his jacket as a bribery tool.

Vladimir Makarov: Located near the heart of London is an upscale yet affordable pet hotel, owned by the passionate Makarov, that takes in a high amount of cats compared to any other pet, so much so that it’s now considered a cat hotel instead of a pet hotel. Makarov wants to give any pet that comes in through the doors a relaxing and lavish experience while staying, so he makes sure the rooms are furnished to a tee, the food is of the highest quality, everything is clean, and there’s always someone around to play with the cats so they don’t get too antsy. He also has a bit of a love-hate relationship with John and Nikolai, as while they’re some of his best and well-paying customers, their 10 cats can be such a headache at times. Sure, they can be the sweetest angels when they want to, but there’s something about being at Makarov’s hotel that turns them into the biggest menaces he’s ever seen. And they can act so spoiled, so Makarov has required the two men to bring food and toys from home so their cats will behave more often. Makarov’s business was initially met with some hesitancy, as he could come off as cold and unattached from an outside glance, and he had no issues with taking cats or other pets from owners that were clearly neglectful despite their protests. He has a close relationship with the other cat cafes because of this, and while he wouldn’t consider them friends just yet, Makarov finds himself appreciating his collection of acquaintances and how closely their businesses support each other.