#I can't leave Flordia because of work

[sageofthestarz]

I love that my dad and I both have habits of naming stuff in Latin

A lot of my playlists are named in Latin just because I think it's a very pretty and direct language for emotions / feelings

My dad's actual album he did a few years back is also named in Latin. We got into a long conversation about the meaning behind the language itself not long ago

It's weird now that I'm older I can actually have these kinds of conversations with him, I was never really into any of this stuff when I was younger and now I'm hounding him with music questions and wish I got more involved as a kid

[gummysharklover]

POP PRINCESS °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ !

masterlist ! part 1 !

summary: ᯓ˚࿔ you leave austin to continue your tour

notes: ᯓ˚࿔ mostly yearning for this part, yall! ᯓ˚࿔ ultra fem!pop star!reader (she/her prns) ᯓ˚࿔ flashbacks in blue ! ᯓ˚࿔ so much thanks to my lovely mutuals who helped me work on this and give me ideas and such! ᯓ˚࿔ not proofread! ᯓ˚࿔ this is not the end of pop princess! there are more fics to come! :D

wc: ᯓ˚࿔ 5.7k

You stand, tearing up as you lock eyes with Schlatt, who looks equally ruined. The crowd's cheers fade into background noise as you stare at one another.

"Flordia is so warm," You laugh into the phone, the warmth of the sun filtering through your window as you describe the balmy air.

"Yeah," Ted agrees, "But I think the worst part is the humidity. It just clings to you."

You groan, "The humidity is sinister. It feels so heavy, you know? And I've genuinely been worried for the audience at my shows," You frown a little, "But I hope the water I have them pass out makes it a little bit better."

Ted runs a hand through his hair, "Yeah, I can't imagine what that's like."

"I've been drinking so much, Teddy." You whine, feeling dehydration grasp at your throat.

There's a lull in the conversation—a thick silence of uncertainty, "How... how's Schlatt?" You tentatively ask, voice laced with curiosity.

"You can ask him that yourself. You know that."

You grimace, feeling a knot form in your stomach, "It just feels so strange. I dunno, I feel like he hates me."

Ted sighs, "How many times do we need to go over this? He doesn't hate you."

"How can you be so sure?" You ask, nervously chewing on your lip as you fidget with your hands.

"Because," Ted replies with a steady tone that borders on parental, "He doesn't shut up about you. He misses you, Y/n. And I know you miss him too."

"What am I supposed to say? 'Hey, Schlatt. I know we haven't talked in forever, but do you want to catch up?'" You reply with embarrassment.

"Yeah, that's exactly what you're supposed to say," He states matter-of-factly.

"But, Teddy," You groan, dread creeping in, "That's so embarrassing!"

Ted sighs, "I assure you it's not. He wants to talk to you."

"Then why hasn't he reached out to me?" You question as a pang of unresolved tension hits you in the chest.

Ted is silent, the weight of the unanswered question lingering in the stagnant, humid air. He doesn't have an answer.

You let out a resigned sigh, "I've gotta go."

"It was nice talking to you, and hey, break a leg," He says with a warm voice of support.

"Thank you, Teddy. It was nice talking to you, too," You reply, feeling a mixture of gratitude and frustration as the call ends.

"I need to break up with Kaleb," You mutter, absent-mindedly poking at your breakfast. Sunlight pours through the window, illuminating Schlatt's face.

Schlatt rolls his eyes dramatically, "I despise that guy. I was so upset when I saw you two were together."

You raise your eyebrow, a coy smile playing on your lips, "Really?" You ask as warmth flutters through your chest at his words.

Schlatt scoffs, leaning back in his chair, "'Course I was. He took my pretty girl away from me. Oh, and don't even get me started on his Instagram stories," He adds, tone becoming mockingly dramatic.

"Oh, I never look at those."

"It's for the better," He replies as a smirk ghosts his lips.

"Why? Do I look bad in them?"

He shakes his head, a genuine smile breaking through, "You could never look bad, pretty girl."

His words hang in the air, warm and reassuring.

"Hun, what's wrong?" Jess asks, her voice filled with concern as she strides over to you.

"Just..." You sigh, letting your thoughts swirl uncontrollably, "A lot going on in my mind."

She side-hugs you, radiating a sense of warmth, "You can always talk to me, hun. You know that, right?"

Her southern drawl, melodic and sweet, never fails to make you smile, "I know, Jess. Thank you." You appreciate her unwavering support more than you could ever express.

"Now!" She claps your shoulder, eyes full of whimsy and encouragement, "Go out there and shine like the star you are!"

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Tonight's performance was particularly tough. People loved Forbidden Love so much that you added it to your setlist, and as the familiar melody fills the air, you can't help but continue your newfound tradition of scanning the crowd for Schlatt. You yearn for the moment your eyes meet his, but he's not there. He never is.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Schlatt sits in his office watching a live stream of your concert. He's been seeing you all over social media, and there are rumors you're dating again. Some guy named Oliver, and Schlatt has to imagine the worst—has to assume you're dating him.

He has your number; he can call you and find out. He won't. Despite everything Ted says about how you miss him, he tells himself you hate him.

He tears up as you sing Forbidden Love, hating how the crowd sings along like they know what it's about—like they could ever understand.

"We're all over Twitter," You giggle, holding up your phone to show Schlatt.

As he leans in closer, he taps on a post—a candid shot of you, captured mid-gaze, completely enamored as you watch Schlatt while you sing 'Forbidden Love' at your last concert.

"This song—it's about..." He looks into your eyes, sincerity reflecting back into his, "Is it about me?"

You nod with a racing heart, "Of course it's about you."

When you return to your hotel room, you sit on your bed and stare at his contact.

Jay <3

The heart taunts you, a relentless reminder of the possibilities that slipped through your fingers, leaving you with a lingering sense of what could have been given everything worked out. But it didn't. With a sigh, you set your phone down and turn away from its dimly lit screen as you make your way to the bathroom. Eager for a moment of solace, you anticipate the warm water of a hot shower to cascade over you, hoping it will wash away the remnants of doubt and regret you always seemed to feel.

"I found a new manager," You smile as you sit on the couch next to Schlatt.

He lights up, "You did?" "Yeah," You smile, "Her name is Jess. I think she's going to be a good fit."

"No more fake boyfriends?" Schlatt laughs, but a sense of seriousness fills his tone.

"No. Only real ones from now on," You smile at him, and a warm spark of excitement ignited deep within Schlatt's heart, filling him with an unfamiliar sense of anticipation.

You lay in bed, remembering how Schlatt cared for you that first night you went to his place—how he held you so gently as you walked. A gentle hand that cradled your hip to keep you steady. You remember how his demeanor changed for the first time—how he looked at you with so much adoration. You remember how he cared so deeply.

You turn on your side, pulling the soft blankets closer around you, and gently close your eyes. A sigh escapes you as you surrender to the stillness of the room, willing sleep to come. In the quiet darkness, you hope for dreams filled with him so you can remember what it's like to hear his voice again—what it's like to see that look in his eyes. And as you drift off, you allow your mind to wander through those soft, lovely moments together, desperately clinging to the hope that tonight, you can touch the fragments of your past with him once more.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You groan as your alarm blares, willing you to wake up.

"Five more minutes," You murmur, though you're not sure why—there's nobody there.

After hitting the snooze button on your alarm about five times, you finally sit up, wincing as a sharp pain throbs in your temples. Cradling your forehead, you get out of bed and head to the bathroom. As you look in the mirror, you struggle to recognize the person staring back at you. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and you often feel sluggish. Your thoughts drift back to your last week in Austin.

You sit at a table in the hotel lobby across from Schlatt, "I leave in a week," You mutter softly, looking into your cup.

Schlatt frowns, and his tone is so genuine you feel like you might cry, "I don't want you to."

"I don't want to either, but I have to continue my tour," You look at him, thoughts swirling in your mind, "What if you came with me?"

You walk back to your bed and pick up your phone. Unlocking it, you're met with his contact glaring at you.

Jay <3

You swipe to your home screen and sigh.

Schlatt gives you an apologetic look, and you can sense the rejection before he even opens his mouth, "My whole life is here. I—" He sighs, "I can't just up and leave Austin. It's my home."

You solemnly look back into your cup, "You're right. I guess I didn't think about that."

You shake your head. You can't afford distractions today.

"What's goin' on with you, hon?" Jess asks backstage.

"I miss him." You reply.

"Who?" She asks before a look of realization settles on your face, "Oh, that boy, right? The one you keep talkin' about?"

You nod.

"Call him up, hon. No point in wallowing in your sadness."

You sigh, slumping further into the makeup chair, "But I can't have him reject me again. What if he doesn't pick up?"

She rubs small circles on your back, "Then he's not worth your time or energy. Okay?"

You nod, "Okay."

"Now? What are you going to do?"

You smile, "Go out there and shine like the star I am."

She claps your back with a grin, "Atta girl!"

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After the concert, you trudge back to your dressing room, practically collapsing on the small loveseat from exhaustion. You pull out your phone and open Instagram, trying to focus on anything other than Schlatt. But to your luck, his story is the first one on your feed. Too tired to know any better, you press on his icon, smiling as you see a picture of him and Jambo.

Schlatt opens Instagram. He sighs as he refreshes your page, desperate for some sort of contact with you—one-sided or not. To his dissatisfaction, nothing new pops up, and he sighs. Bored, he checks the stats on his story, muttering about how stupid it was to have stats anyway, but he stops his mini rant when he sees your profile picture as one of the people who viewed his story.

"Holy shit," He murmurs.

He stays up the rest of the night, unable to sleep due to thoughts of you plaguing his mind.

Regret fills you as you realize what you've done as you tell yourself he hates you, but then those words echo in your mind.

"I could never hate you, pretty girl."

Never hate you.

And you try so hard to believe it, to recount those exact words, but for some reason, your brain tells you it's all a lie.

"Oliver, I don't know what to do," You mutter to your friend.

Oliver shrugs, "I've told you all I can. Call him."

"What if he hates me?" You whine, dramatically throwing your head into your hands.

"He doesn't hate you," Oliver tries reassuring, but it feels like a fruitless endeavor.

You take a deep breath as you try to calm the pool of anxiety growing in your chest at the thought of talking to Schlatt, "But what if he doesn't want to talk to me? What if I ruined everything?"

"Sometimes you have to take risks," Oliver replies, "You won't know unless you try."

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The more Schlatt sees you and Oliver all over the media, the more agitated he grows. His finger hovers over the call button, the screen lighting up his face. He's so close to tapping that stupid phone symbol, the one he's sat and stared at for hours on end, but he throws his phone onto the couch, groaning as he stands up.

"Get it together, man," He grumbles, "She's just a girl."

But, in the back of his mind, he knows you're more than that. You're more than "just a girl." You made him feel something he's never felt before, and at first, it was uncomfortable. He hated it, so he hated you, but then the feeling settled in his chest, and it felt warm—you felt warm. Your giggles were sweet as they bubbled up from your chest, and the creaking of the floorboards as he walks over to his couch sharply contrasts with those memories of your laughter—of your voice. How you used to light up a room with your smile, how you smelled—all these small rememberings he can feel slipping through his fingers with each passing second he doesn't have you.

He sits down on the couch, picking up his phone. Your contact stares back at him, and he decides he's finally going to message you.

'So what's up with this Oliver guy?' He types out, thumb hovering over the send arrow. Rereading the message, Schlatt grimaces as shame bubbles up from deep within his gut.

'I hope the tour's going well,' No—too impersonal.

He thinks for a second about what he actually wants to say to you, 'I miss you so much, pretty girl, and it's killing me to pretend I don't.'

He stares at the text, reading it over and over again. Pretending? Is that what he's doing?

So he edits it, 'I miss you so much, pretty girl, and it's killing me that I keep ignoring you.' But he hates how that reads, so he deletes the message altogether.

Finally, he types out a simple: 'Hey,'

But even that feels like too much, so he highlights the message, pressing delete for the final time that night.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You sit alone in another hotel room, staring at the abstract painting hanging across your bed. It's the kind of still that's more oppressive than peaceful. Picking up your phone, you stare at yourself in the reflection of the black screen. The bustling city life seems so distant as you swipe up and scroll to Schlatt's contact. You feel cut off from the loud traffic and neon lights as you picture him, maybe nursing a drink as he sits on the couch, laughing at an old re-run of a cartoon he loved when he was younger.

The thought leaves a bittersweet ache in your heart. You can almost hear his laugh, grounding you in a way nothing ever has before. But then you look down at your screen, seeing the time stamp of your last message, and you sigh.

You replay your last interaction for the hundredth time, looking for something you might have missed—some sign that he wants you to reach out. But all you can recall is his faint, ambivalent smile as he waved goodbye to you.

'Hi, Jay, I've missed you,' You almost hit send, but your heartbeat spikes and you delete the message.

'Hope you're well!' But that sounds so disingenuous.

Lastly, you type out a simple: 'How are you?' But you remember something he confessed as you cared for him while he was half asleep and tipsy.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"You want to hear a secret?" He quietly mumbles as you lead him to his bed.

"Sure," You amusedly reply. "I'm scared of new things. I prefer to keep things the same."

You pause, tilting your head thoughtfully, "If things never change, how can you hope to grow—to reach any destination in life?"

He's silent as he takes in the weight of your words, not having an answer.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You'd be selfish to reach out. He's living his calm, peaceful life, and you would be disturbing that. The words "I can't just up and leave Austin" taunt you as they echo in your mind. You think about the implications of your actions—how your longing to reconnect might disturb the tranquility he's built. Part of you yearns to reach out—to bridge the gap, share more moments and stolen glances, but you know the risk it carries. o you put your phone down and let the silence settle in your bones as you rest your head in your hands. He deserves peace, and your life isn't peaceful. Not for him—not for anyone, so you close your eyes and tell yourself it's for the best, even if the ache in your heart says otherwise.

Schlatt wakes up, the harsh morning light filtering through the windows. He rubs his eyes, attempting to shake off the remnants of sleep. A familiar pang of stillness crashes over him as he sits up like a strong wave does a rock on the beach. It feels overwhelming—knowing that this ache continues to grow with each passing day you weren't there.

The silence in the room feels heavy, amplified by the absence of your laughter and the warmth of your presence. He looks around his room, taking in the familiar surroundings that now feel eerily different. Walls that once echoed with shared conversations now stand silent while the air stays stagnant with fading memories. Taking a deep breath, he wonders if the day holds any promise of change or if it'll just be another reminder of what he lost.

Out of habit, he checks your page. Surprised to see a new post, he clicks on it, swiping to see the pictures of fans dressed for your concert. The excitement from each person is nearly tangible, and he remembers what it was like to see you for the first time—how he ended up watching in admiration as he tried to convince Ted he hated the performance. Then he swipes to a picture of you; you're smiling, bathed in pink lights, as you sing to a roaring crowd. He feels a smile filled with admiration tug at his lips as he goes to comment.

'Looks like you're enjoying yourself,'

Then he stares at the screen until the words just look like letters—pointless letters, and deletes the message. Something feels off—wrong, even. Here he was, sitting in Austin while you were out there, miles away, selling out stadiums. What would you do with a comment from him? Would you even care? His words felt meaningless and small, like they wouldn't even register in your busy life.

And he knows that one message—a single crumb from you—would turn his life upside down. Maybe that's why he avoids messaging you. Schlatt's life is slow and steady, and he's comfortable with it. He likes waking up and doing his routine. He likes feeding his cats and lazing around. He thinks about you—about how grand your life is, and he sighs. He would just be holding you back, and a sharp pang of fear rises in him. Tilting his head back, he stares at the ceiling, knowing he can't have it both ways—knowing he has to choose you or stability. But he's not ready to let go of either.

But as the days gradually shift into weeks and the weeks seamlessly blend into months, you and Schlatt both find yourselves caught in this unrelenting cycle. Every day feels like a mirror that reflects the last, and the rhythm of your routines becomes monotonous backdrops to your lives. The world around you continues to change, but you remain in this endless loop where time seems to lose its meaning, and every moment stretches on indefinitely.

You sit backstage, and the usual symphony of noises around you feel distant—like you're underwater, trying to listen to those calling to you from the shore. Someone is talking—maybe your manager—but the words pass by you in a blur, barely registering. All you can focus on is the aching desire to check your phone again, as if this time, by some miracle, you would find something different.

Your fingers fidget with the skin around your nails, picking at the rough edges in a small attempt to ground yourself. But it doesn't help alleviate the familiar ache that twists in your chest each time you open Schlatt's profile and scan the screen for any sign of life—any hint that he still thinks of you. But there's nothing, just the same posts from weeks ago, like his life is paused—like he's frozen in time.

People move around you, exchanging laughter and energy, but you sit still, unable to shake the uncomfortable feeling of his absence gnawing away at you. It's as if he's slipped away, and the only pieces left of him are the memories you cling to and the photos on his page that you've already memorized.

Taking a deep breath, you tuck your phone away, attempting to be present. But your gaze still wanders, sweeping the room as if, by some chance, he'd be there—as if he'd somehow find his way back into your world. But all you find is emptiness, a quiet reminder of what isn't there. And in that space, the ache settles deeper, making a permanent home in your heart.

'Goodbye.'

The word hangs in the air, loaded with uncertainty. What does it truly mean? Does it signify that he's vanishing from the online world just as he has from your personal one? Or is it a final farewell that suggests you'll never see his face again?

You finally muster the courage to watch the video, and a swirl of confusion envelops you as he passionately bashes Texas—his disdain for Austin palpable. The haunting phrase, "I can't just up and leave Austin," reverberates in your mind, and a visceral sense of betrayal hits you like a semi-truck, leaving you reeling from the unexpected revelation. You feel frozen as you sit and watch him talk about needing a change—about how Austin is dull and lifeless.

Your mind reels while your heart pounds in your chest.

"Fellas, I'm goin' back home."

But isn't that what he called Austin? Didn't he call it home? When you'd asked him to join you on tour and invited him into your life, he said Austin was his home, that he couldn't abandon it. The life he'd made, the stability, the routine were his reasons for staying behind—the reasons he chose not to be with you.

Yet here he was, casually announcing that he was leaving it all behind. For New York, without a word to you.

He told you he couldn't make that type of change, and you'd stupidly believed him. You accepted stability was what he needed—what kept him grounded—so you let him go, thinking it was better than pushing him out of his comfort zone. But it turns out he'd been willing to leave it all—just not for you.

You click your phone off, and the sudden absence of sound intensifies the silence around you. It feels deafening as your thoughts swirl chaotically. Hurt and anger intertwine to create a tumultuous mix that you can't ignore. Images flash through your mind—his laughter during the moments you shared now overshadowed by the realization that he's moving on, and he's doing it without you. He's actively chosen a path that doesn't have you in it. And the knowledge that he's opened a new chapter free from the weight of your shared history hits you hard as the ache in your chest deepens, and you wonder how he can carry on so easily without looking back. You stare at the ceiling, eyes filled with tears heavy with all the words you'd never get to say to him.

The light of dawn that filters through the curtains awakes you, and you squint against the brightness. Rubbing your puffy eyes, you slowly sit up while feeling the heaviness of a restless night's sleep still clinging to you.

You dread today.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The airport is full of motion as travelers weave through the chaos, only focusing on reaching their destination. Schlatt leans against the pillar of a small Café, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie as he waits for his flight. He's in no rush as the plane for his connecting flight to New York wouldn't even arrive for another two hours. The noise of static that rolls through the intercom as announcements are made and the clacking of flight attendant's high heels fade into the background as he people-watches, gaze unfocused until something—someone—catches his eye.

You.

Schlatt instinctively straightens as he feels a sharp, unexpected jolt course through his body and settle in his heart. You walk towards a gate on the far side of the terminal, and the curve of your face is distinct and unmistakable, even in the crowd surrounding you. You look tired, shoulders slouched ever so slightly, but there's still something purposeful in the way you move.

He feels frozen, feet refusing to carry him closer to you. His mind races, caught somewhere between relief and panic as he wonders why you're here. And then it clicks—New York, of course. He saw it on your schedule weeks ago during a moment of weakness when he scrolled through the updates he told himself he didn't care about. He swallows hard as you stop to adjust your bag, tilting your head to check the departure board. For a split second, he wonders if you're looking for him—if, somehow, you know he's here. But your gaze sweeps right past him, and the sharp pang of being invisible to you lodges itself deep in his chest.

He could walk up to you, but what would he say? That he's been watching from a distance, too scared to reach out—too worried to know if you'd still want him in your life? The words burn his throat like acid. So he stays rooted to the spot, hidden among the hundreds of travelers. His jaw tightens as he watches you fidget with the strap of your bag—a small habit he knows all too well. You look lovely, even in your quiet unease, making him hate himself a little more than before.

An announcement jolts him from his trance, and he watches you walk toward your gate, feeling the distance between you stretch with every step.

He turns back to the cafe, staring blankly at the menu, pretending he hadn't just seen the one person he wanted most leave his life for the second time.

The crowd roars as the lights dim. You stand behind the curtain, heart pounding in time with the rhythm of the cheers.

New York—the city that never sleeps.

You smooth out your outfit one last time before the curtains part. You're blinded by the stage lights as the crowd's roar becomes deafening.

After finishing Corner Store, you smile, letting the crowd's energy wash over you as you step into the spotlight.

"New York City," You call into the mic, "It's so good to be here tonight."

The response is electric as cheers and applause fill the stadium. Schlatt is on your mind, and you feel like you're back in Los Angeles, performing that first night when all you could think about was that mysterious, mean man at the party. You hope history will repeat itself as you scan the crowd for him once again.

The possibility pulls at you while hope flickers in your chest. You told yourself to expect nothing, but the ache of missing him seems to be louder than the crowd as they chant your song.

Pink lights reflect off countless smiling faces, but none of them are his signature smirk. Your throat tightens as you continue to perform—continue to smile, but your heart sinks lower with each verse.

He's not here.

You try to shake the thought away—you can't afford distractions. You can never afford distractions. But the memories of his laugh, his voice, how he'd call you pretty girl like it was your name—it's all too much, overwhelming you.

You reach Forbidden Love, and you step away from the mic, letting the crowd sing for you. The sound surges as thousands of voices fill the space. You take the short moment to look over them again, searching for Schlatt.

All you find are strangers.

The realization hits you hard, and a pang of loneliness cuts through the adrenaline. He's not here. He's not in the crowd—he isn't waiting for you after the show. He's in a world far from your own, and for the first time in months, your voice falters as you sing.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Backstage, the crowd's noise fades into a distant hum while you sip on your water. You think of Schlatt—think of what he'd say given he saw you now—and let the ache settle deep in your heart. You hope he hears about the performance—about how you cried—and knows you're thinking of him, even if he's miles away.

The sunlight streaming through the window is harsh—too bright for how Schlatt feels as he groans and reaches for his phone. His feed loads slowly, and he rubs his eyes as the images come into focus.

You're everywhere.

Clips from last night's performance are trending, with fans posting blurry videos and pictures of you on stage. The captions talk about how beautiful—how utterly unforgettable you'd been.

Schlatt scrolls further, thumb hesitating over a video of you singing Forbidden Love. The caption is trying to decipher who the song could be about, and you look untouchable in the dim light of the stage.

Before he can stop himself, he clicks on the video. Your voice pours through the tiny speaker, and he hates how much it hurts to hear as the song fills the quiet of the room.

"She's fucking everywhere," He mutters.

The feeling clings to him as he grabs his jacket. He needs air—needs to get away from thoughts of you.

But at the corner of his street, a billboard stands tall. A picture of you on stage advertises your tour. The tagline reads, 'A Voice That Can't Be Ignored.' And he scoffs—that's one way to put it.

On the way to the store, he passes a magazine stand where your face stares back at him from glossy covers. Every headline seems to scream your name, and he keeps his head down—refusing to look at them.

He reaches the store, and your voice greets him as the doors slide open. Your music croons softly over the radio, and he freezes for a moment, staring at the fresh produce as his lips press tightly together. He quickly grabs what he needs and makes his way to the register.

He gives the cashier a tight-lipped smile, and as she begins ringing his items, she speaks, "She's amazing, isn't she?"

Schlatt blinks, caught off guard, "What?"

"This singer," The woman says, "Her music has been on repeat all week. I still can't believe she's here right now."

He hums in response, nodding as he hands her the cash, "Keep the change," He says, giddy to leave.

He walks home, keeping his head down to avoid any possible conversation. Then he stops, frozen in his tracks, as he sees your silhouette. He wants to go up to you—wants to hear your voice. For a moment, he wonders if you'll turn around and see him, but you don't. And he doesn't let you.

Ducking his head, Schlatt quickly crosses the street. His pulse hammers as he picks up his pace, trying to get away from the snippets of your voice. His stomach twists, the same pang of loneliness and guilt that's been haunting him since you left Austin. It would've been so easy to stay on the other side of the street—to walk up to you. He doesn't.

What would he even say? That he misses you? That every song, every picture, every damn video of you makes him ache with yearning? That he hates how much he wants to be part of your world despite it terrifying him at the same time?

He shoves his thoughts down as he walks as quickly as possible. He can't face you. Not now, not like this, not conflicted and uncertain while stuck in a life he isn't ready to leave but can't stay in without thinking of you.

A minute or so later, he glances back, but you're gone. His absence hits him harder than the sight of you ever could. He stands there for a moment, staring at the spot where you'd been. It's funny how people just fill the space where you were as if you hadn't even been there.

When he gets home, he drops the bag of groceries onto the counter and slouches onto the couch. It feels like the universe is mocking him, pushing you into every corner of his life and reminding him of what he can't have. And no matter how far he goes—how much he tries to clear his head—it seems like you are always going to be there, right out of reach.

You reach your hand towards the plastic separating you and the litter of kittens. One lazily stretches, blinking at you with disinterest before curling back into a ball.

A small smile tugs at your lips. It's been a while since you let yourself slow down like this and just exist. The chaos of your tour has been relentless, and this small pocket of quiet feels like a reprieve.

As he enters the store, Schlatt mutters something about Jambo running out of treats again. He's been making excuses to leave his house—telling himself he's going out because he wants to reconnect with the city, but he's lying to himself. He knows, deep down, that he keeps going out because he's hoping to see you again, hoping you'll notice him.

And then he turns to the cat aisle, steps faltering as he catches sight of you. There you are, standing alone, focusing entirely on the kittens before you. For a second, he considers walking away—slipping out of the store before you notice him. But the way you stand there under the dim lighting, shoulders slightly slumped, while looking at the cats with quiet affection, makes him pause. His feet begin moving on their own accord as he runs a hand through his hair, heart pounding harder and harder with each passing second. He doesn't have to say anything—you didn't see him—he could leave and pretend this never happened, but the thought of walking away again felt heavier than the fear of facing you. So he goes to tap on your shoulder, but he hesitates—finger hovering over you like it did the call button so many times before this moment. But he actually commits this time—no more chickening out, no more running away. This is it.

You turn around as you feel a soft tap on your shoulder, "Yes?" But you feel the air leave your body when you realize who stands before you.

He awkwardly waves, "Hey, pretty girl."

"Jay… hi."

thank you so much for reading <3

if you liked this, please reblog it! im hoping to reach my true and final form of a gummy shark, and i grow stronger with each reblog!

[therealplaguedoctor]

Logan Sargeant x famous.boxer!reader(fem)

Flordia Girl

(Part one of three, completed)

Summary: Y/n is a famous boxer! She's a known influencer and boxer, but she's taking a break from boxing professionally. She hangs out in Miami (where she lives) for a bit so she could attend the gp! After the race she leaves up to her extend families farm up north in the wild west! (I resisted the urge to put a cowboy emoji). But the west wasn't the only thing that was wild, someone happened to be wild over her... will he make a move? Read more to find out!!

Warnings: fluff, mutral pining, cursing, author doesn't know shit bout anything, southern(as in cowboy) spelling, author is American so bare with her, and improper name tags for like the entire grid lol

Genre: kinda smau,

Fc: Random people on pintrest

A/n: Hey so this is my first proper fic on here!! So uhh good luck!! And sorry that it's a bit poorly written!! ALSO I'm sorry how the summary is written I kinda rushed it oops-

Here's a little table of some people relation and name because I needed it while writing:

Andy- yn brother

Kylie- yn sister

Paige- yn friend

Thomas- yn brother-in-law (via Kylie)

____________ ☆ ____________

____________ ☆ ____________

Y.n just posted!

Liked by ynbrother and others

Tagged: ynbrother, ynsister, ynfriend

Y.n Hey everyone I know yall have been waiting for me to talk about it. Yes it is true I am not boxing this year. I love boxing but right now I have different projects that I'm working on that need my attention.

As well as my family, I'm spending more time with them. I WILL be boxing next year. And as for everyone speculating about my health and such: I am a okay. There is no medical reason for this break.

As for people who may ask about the project, just know that it will be revealed soon enough. But in the mean time I will relax with my family!

User1: OMG THANK YOU I WAS WAITING FOR THIS POST

User4: take all the time you need!! Family is important

User5: WHWTS THE PROJECT

User6: she said she'll say later in the post..

Ynbrother: imagine being a boxer

Y.n: imagine being famous for being my brother

logansargeant: family is very important!!

User7: LOGAN WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???

User8: Logan has been a fan of y/n since her rookie days!!

User7: WHAT????

View more

____________ ☆ ____________

logansargeant just posted!

Liked by y.n and others

logansargeant Good bye China and hello American! Can't wait to race my home grand prix!! This will be fun!

User9: YOU GOT THIS LOGAN 🦅🦅🦅

User10: LETS GO LOGAN 🦅🦅🦅

WilliamsRacing: Lets go win it!

User11: stop prioritizing Alex then...

User12:🦅🦅🦅

Y.n: You got this next one trust!

User13: MY 2 WORLDS COLLIDE?? Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???

User14: y/n has been a HUGE fan of f1 since forever!! She recently became a Logan fan but she's always supported mclaren!!

User13: tysm!! I can't believe this...

User15:🦅🦅🦅

User16:🦅🦅🦅

View more

____________ ☆ ____________

____________ ☆ ____________

I finally was able to sleep in for one day waking up at 10am I checked my phone:

I immediately go and text my best friend:

____________ ☆ ____________

Y.n just posted a story!

____________ ☆ ____________

After posting my insta story I walked through the paddock gates. There was many people along the sides some people recognized me cameras quickly shuttered taking picks of me.

Even though I'm used to this attention it never gets any less exciting. After a snapping a few pictures with fans I said a quick good bye and went to the mclaren hospitality following the instructions that I was told.

It was a Thursday meaning it was media day there was hustle and bustle EVREYWHERE. I meet with a girl in the mclaren hospitality lounge.

"Hello your y/n right?" a girl questioned me

"Yes that's me" I smiled

"Great! It's so nice to meet you!" She beamed "my names is Sarah, I'm actually the social media admin for mclaren!"

"So you're the one who invited me?"

"I am the one who sent the invite, but actually it was one of our drivers who wanted to invite you" she chuckled

"Really?" I asked "can I ask who?"

"It was Oscar, he said something about someone oweing him later" she said

I nodded "Oh okay" I wondered what Oscar meant by someone oweing him.

____________ ☆ ____________

I walked around the paddock meeting some fans of mine. Which was a little surprising how many people that were there who knew me. I quickly posted on my insta:

Liked by mclaren and others

Tagged: mclaren, Oscar piastri

Y.n That's right guys I've been invited to the paddock by MCLAREN this is unreal. I live f1 and to be here right now is truly amazing! Also a little outfit check for media day!

Also I may or may not have been invited to do some interviews with the drivers later... BUT ANYWAYS- I am thankful that I am here and trust I will get yall content of the drivers I'm an f1 girly at heart 🫶🫶🫶

User17: YES GET US THAT F1 CONTENT

Mclaren: Thanks for excepting the invitation!!

Y.n: NO thank you for inviting me this is a dream come true 🫶🫶🫶

Mclaren: 🧡

User18: Admin interacting with y/n heals me 🥹

User19: PLEASE MEET LOGAN YALL WOULD GET ALONG SO WELL

User20: I HOPE OSCAR INTRODUCES THEM

Liked by OscarPiastri

User20: HELP OSCAR LIKED THAT COMMENT

WilliamsRacing: You should stop by our garage 😉

Liked by y.n

View more

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After posting I walked back to the mclaren hospitality meeting Sarah.

"Hey Sarah" I greeted

"Oh hey! We're setting up an interview right now" she smiled "it's gonna be posted on the mclaren YouTube channel. Do you mind joining it?"

"Of course not!" I smiled "I don't get the opportunity to do much interviews and I actually enjoy them I don't mind" I smiled

She nodded "okay!" She said "then it will be you, Lando, and Oscar!"

____________ ☆ ____________

I sat in the chair I was directed towards. I was sat on the far right, Lando on the far left and Oscar between us.

"Okay so we pulled a bunch of questions from the fans and sorted through them!" Sarah said off screen "and we were able to get quite a few" she smiled "okay to start: Lando, will you ever try fish"

"No" he responded immediately

I started cracking up "not even a bite?" I asked

"Never" Lando said "I'm sticking with what I like" Oscar just shook his head and Sarah moved onto the next question:

"Now Oscar who is you best friend on the grid?"

Oscar thought for a moment before answering: "Logan definitely, me and him have known eachother forever"

Sarah nodded "okay now y/n: how long have been a fan of formula 1?"

I sighed while thinking "well I've technically been watching since I was born cause my dad loved it" I said "but I've been a fan of mclaren for only a few years"

Sarah smiled and nodded turning back to Lando: "now Lando: what's your favorite football team?"

"Easy: Bristol City" Lando smiled

"Ah you mean soccer?" I said

"Leave it to the American to ruin the question!" He laughed

"Hey! Fun fact it was originally called soccer we kept calling it that and yall are the ones who changed it!"

Oscar was just laughing at the argument before Sarah started again:

"Okay okay, Oscar: what is your opinion on the dynamic between you and Lando?"

"I feel that me and him work well together. While we do have our moments" Oscar chuckled "we do push eachother to do our very best. Lando is very supportive of me with anything I need help with I am greatful for him" Oscar smiled

Sarah then asked me "y/n who is your celebrity crush?"

I started laughing "we go from Oscar's sappy answer to that" I crack up "Oh my god-" I grab my chest "give me a minute" I said as I catch my breath.

"Okay okay celeb crush?" I think for a moment "Oh god I don't think I could say" I laughed "I'd die if he sees this, and I know he'd watch this" I chuckled

Lando then spoke up "come on y/n" he smiled "tell us!"

I shook my head "only if it's censored in the video"

Both the boys look up at Sarah. She was intrigued by my answer and nodded "just cover the mic and say it."

I nodded and cover the mic, I looked back over and said-

Both Lando and Oscar fell out of there chairs basically chanting "no way!"

I uncover my mic as I laughed.

Sarah now also laughing said "okay thank you boys and y/n we'll end it here" the cameras cut "the video should be out later tonight"

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Part two

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Wide Awake-Dream Was Taken

A/N: Here’s Pt. 2 bitches. I hope you all enjoy ! Also, please go support and follow @notphilosopherstudentblog​ because she helped me out with this because she’s so intelligent. <3

Btw Title is based off Katy Perry’s song Wide Awake

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.5k+

_________

It was early. Too early for Y/n to be crying. But her she was, sitting in bed, clinging to one of Clay's old shirts. In the past, it was normal for her to steal a couple of his belongings. It was typical of Y/n to invite herself into his closet, taking whatever she wanted to wear, whenever she wanted. But now it just felt wrong.

There were only a few items left Y/n had that were his. She never washed this shirt, she had only worn it once. She could still remember the day she stole it.

"Y/n, you've got to be kidding," Clay turned in his desk chair. She had just walked out of his closet wearing an oversized grey t-shirt. "You're seriously going to leave me with five pieces of clothing."

She shot him a playful look, taking a moment to admire herself in the nearest mirror. "I'm sorry Mr. 15 million subscribers. You can always buy more clothes with all that money."

"Fine... it looks better on you anyway."

She had spent the rest of the day in his shirt. And by the end of the day, the scent of his laundry detergent was strong. For an odd reason, the t-shirt had spent weeks in the back of Y/n's closet, untouched. At least, until this morning.

All night she was toss and turning. It seemed impossible for her to get a moment of sleep, her mind had been racing. The only reason she wasn't able to sleep was because of one person; Clay. Their fight had played over and over again in her mind.

'But Y/n, I really do love you.'

There were so many different ways the night could've ended. But it was her fault it ended how it did. If only she hadn't asked for him to step out of the stupid restaurant with her. She didn't need to make a scene, but she still did. This was all her fault.

The sound of her phone buzzing had pulled Y/n away from the piece of fabric in her hands. Looking down at her nightstand, she glanced at the electronic. Wilbur was calling. With a sigh, hesitantly she reached for the phone.

"Hey, Y/n."

"Morning, Wilbur."

The brunette bit his lip at the sound of her voice. He could tell she had a rough night. "Are you doing alright?"

"I'm..." she paused, looking down at the shirt in her lap. "Yeah, I'm doing better."

"That's good to hear," For some odd reason, he was pacing. It wasn't normal for him to pace back and forth. He was already dressed for the day, wearing a set of brown pants with a creme button-up shirt. A pair of glasses rested on his face as he spoke. "George and I were hoping to go get some breakfast. Do you think you could show us somewhere good?"

"Yeah, I'm up for breakfast. What about Nick and Clay?" If Clay was coming, she didn't know what she'd do. There would be tension, but maybe she could find a way to patch everything up between them.

"Nick's going over to Clay's. They wanna have a bit of time together."

"Oh, okay... when do you guys wanna meet up?"

"Maybe 30 minutes to an hour?"

"An hour it is."

Before preparing to go out, Y/n had texted Wilbur a location point to meet up. It was a nice restaurant located in town, it had always been one of her favorite places to eat. George and Wilbur had gotten a table outside, it was nice out for a day in Flordia.

"Do you think she's gonna do it?"

Wilbur glanced across the table to George, "Honestly, probably not." He let out a sigh, " hope she agrees. I really do. But it's gonna be hard for her to let go. I just think it'd be better if they got some time away from each other."

"You're right. As good of friends they are, they need a break from each other." They both knew it wasn't a good idea for Y/n to stay in Flordia at the moment, she needed a moment away from Clay. So Wilbur had come up with an idea to get Y/n to take a break.

"What do you think of Elise?" Changing the subject, George leaned back in his chair. It was rare for Clay's girlfriend to come up in conversation. She seemed like such a touchy subject in the group. She was definitely a sweetheart, but it seemed like she appeared out of nowhere. The group had been planning future Dream SMP roleplay on a Discord call. It had been so brief when Clay mentioned her. 'Hey guys, I just wanted to mention I started dating somebody.' It was smart of George to hold his tongue because of what else Clay had to say. 'Her name is Elise and she's 19.'

Most of the group had expected Clay and Y/n to end up together. They were best friends who lived in the same town. There was constant flirting going on between them. And not to mention Y/n had always been there to support Clay through the bad and good.

"Hey, guys!"

Both of the British men were pulled out of their thoughts by the sound of her voice. Y/n was quick to take a seat by Wilbur. "Have we ordered yet?"

"No actually, we've been waiting for you." George fixed his posture, his classic grin appeared on his face. "Got any recommendations for drinks?"

"My go-to has to be a mimosa and the eggs benedict."

The knock came as a surprise, but there were a lot of surprises happening this morning. Clay had woken up earlier than usual. Naturally, he'd get up around 9 or 10, but today he woke at 7. He couldn't go to bed for a few more hours, his mind wouldn't quit racing with thoughts. He had ended up skipping breakfast, he wasn't hungry today. It was normal for him to eat something, he always woke up starved. The early knock was the cherry on top of the cake of the surprises happening today.

"Hey Nick, what are you doing here?" Clay glanced behind his friend, looking for any sign of the rest of his friends. Originally, they had planned to meet up later that afternoon at his place. "I thought you were coming by at noon?"

Nick stood on the porch, burying his hands into the pockets of his jeans. It was early in the morning, yet it was already warm outside. "Yeah, sorry I didn't ask if I could come by earlier. I just wanted some time alone with you."

"Cool, make yourself at home," Stepping aside, the blonde opened the door a bit wider for his friend. "Sorry it's a bit messy, I was planning to clean up before you guys showed up."

The pair had made their way to Clay's living room. It was nice, but still a bit messy just as he said. As the blonde began to pick up after himself, the pair had a bit of small banter.

"Is Elise gonna come by this afternoon?" Nick watched as Clay picked up a couple of items sitting on the coffee table.

"Uh, no. I think she had work today."

"Oh, what about Y/n?"

Clay tensed, pausing for a second. She had been on his mind a lot since the last time he saw her. The way she looked at him... it hurt. It felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. This morning she was all he could think of. He missed her good morning texts, the way she'd update him about little situations happening in her schedule, when she would randomly face time him just to say: 'I wanted to see your stupid face because I missed it.'

"I... she's not coming."

"Why's that?"

"You know why, Nick." Clay let out a sigh, taking a seat on the couch. He didn't know what he could do, he was the one who messed everything up. If he tried to apologize, he might even piss Y/n off even more. She had always been a hardass about being hurt or betrayed, it was hard for her to give people a second chance. "I don't even think she knows we're all planning to meet up later today."

"Dude... it's weird seeing you two like this. It feels wrong." The two friends looked at one another, it seemed like Nick could tell exactly what Clay was thinking. 'It is wrong.'

"I miss her. But I was also the one who fucked everything up by ignoring her for weeks."

"Why'd you even do that?"

"Because I fell in love with her. I was scared she didn't feel the same. So I distanced myself and looked for someone to start a relationship with.  That's why I met Elise."

"Clay... you're an idiot."

"I know."

Turning, Wilbur looked at Y/n. She was halfway finished with her meal. Everything was going great, she seemed so happy just to be able to talk with two friends. It seemed like the best time to spring the idea on her.

"Hey, Y/n?"

"Yes, Wilbur?"

He bit his lip, glancing at the man sitting on the other side of the table. George gave a brief nod, knowing what was going to happen next. "George and I had an idea we'd like to share with you."

"What is it?"

"You know how you've been talking about how you've always wanted to visit us in London?"

"Yeah..."

Wilbur paused, looking back at George for a second. "Well, we were thinking... I have a free room in my place. Why don't you spend one of two months with me just to see how you like London?"

Y/n's face lit up. "That sounds great, Wilbur. I... wow. That sounds so fun!" She paused, her smile disappeared. "But what about my house? I can't just abandon it for a month."

Wilbur bit his lip, 'Shit.'

"Clay can stop by once a week, just to make sure everything's fine. I'm positive he'll do it for you," George was quick to jump into the conversation. As soon as he mentioned Clay, Wilbur shot him a look. Y/n tensed at the sound of his name.

"Listen Y/n, you don't have to do it. Just keep the idea in mind, you can give me an answer before George and I leave."

"Okay..." Y/n bit her lip, looking at her food. She knew the only right answer was yes, but it was going to be hard to talk to Clay about this. "I think... I think I wanna do this. I wanna go with you guys."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, but... just give me some time to think it over."

"We're always here for you, Y/n. No pressure." Wilbur placed a hand on Y/n's. He wanted her to come to London, everything would be better. He cared a lot about Y/n, he really did. He just wanted to see her happy.

"I just want her to be happy," Clay let out a sigh, opening the refrigerator door. His eyes skimmed over what there was, he had gone grocery shopping the other day to plan for today. He still wasn't hungry.

"Everything's gonna get-" Nick paused, he was interrupted by the sound of Clay's phone ringing. There was a moment of silence as the blonde closed the refrigerator, approaching his phone on the kitchen counter.

"It's Y/n."

"What?"

"Do I pick it up?" Clay glanced at his friend.

"yes, yes, yes! Do it!"

Clay was quick to pick up the phone, putting it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Clay."

"Hey, Y/n."

"Do you..." she paused, "Do you have a moment to talk?"

"Yeah, I can talk." Clay leaned against the counter, listening to her intently. It had only been a few days, but he missed her voice. He could tell she was down.

"I know this seems like the wrong time to be asking for favors and everything, considering everything that has happened this last week. But... I need your help with something." She paused again. He could tell she was hesitating, as though something was keeping her back. "I think I'm gonna be gone for a while. And I just need someone to check up with my house every couple of days. Could you do that? It's fine if you don't want to, it was a stupid idea of me to ask you anyways-"

"No, yeah. Of course, I'll check up on your house for you, Y/n." He was quick to cut her off. The last thing he wanted was for her to think she couldn't turn to him for help anymore. "And it's not stupid of you to ask me. I'll always be here if you need something or need help."

She scoffed, "You weren't there for me these past few weeks." She stopped herself again for the third time. "I'm sorry, that was really bitchy of me."

"I deserved it," he could only chuckle. Y/n was still herself. "But yeah, is there anything else you need... or want to talk about?"

"I... no. No, that's it. I guess I'll talk to you... eventually."

"Alright," Clay fought back the urge to let out a disappointed sigh. "I'll see you." Without saying goodbye, she hung up the phone. He didn't know what to expect next, he wasn't even sure whether this was a step in the right direction or not.

Staring at the box, Y/n felt herself tear up for the hundredth time this week. This was going to be a hard task to complete, but it was going to help her let go.

Walking around the house, Y/n picked up item by item. Anything that belonged to Clay was going in the box.  A few t-shirts, a couple of CDs she stole, one of his coffee cups. Y/n wasn't even sure how the cup had gotten to her house, but she knew it belonged to Clay. All of her coffee cups matched, all the same color and shape. But... this one cup had shown up in her pantry one day. Every time Clay had spent the night, he'd start the morning off with a cup of coffee, only using that cup.

At this point, Y/n was picking up items that held too strong memories of him. The box had quickly filled, it felt strange. It seemed like she had just lost a chunk of her house. Of her life. This needed to happen. This was the only way they'd be able to keep their friendship.

Y/n had agreed to come to London with Wilbur, she was finally fully on board. Two suitcases sat by her front door as she waited for Wilbur and George to arrive. She would only be in Florida for a few more hours, she needed to give this box back to him. Maybe she could just say screw it, leave it here under her bed, hidden away. So when she'd return she'd be comforted by his shirts and hoodies, she'd listen to his songs and cry.

No. She couldn't do that. If she did that she wouldn't be letting go of everything. Y/n needed closure, it'd be the best for them both and she knew it. Pulling her out of her thoughts, Y/n heard a knock on her door. It was time.

"Morning, Y/n."

"Morning, Wilbur." Y/n smiled, embracing her friend in a hug as soon as she opened the door.

"George is in the car. We got coffee too." Wilbur looked down at her, his arms still wrapped around her waist, holding her close. "You're positive you want to do this?"

"Yes, I need to."

"Alright, then. I'll support you with whatever decision you make." He finally stepped aside, moving to grab her suitcases. Y/n grabbed the box, she had moved it into the hallway before greeting Wilbur. With one more glance, she looked down her hallway before closing the door. As soon as her home was locked up, Y/n had dropped her keys into the box. This was going to be the final step before London. Giving it all back.

George and Y/n greeted each other, Y/n giving him a quick hug before entering the car. The rest of the time, the car ride was quiet. There was obviously going to be tension. On their way, Y/n kept thinking to herself about what she was going to say. What if she fucked it all up? What if they broke out into another fight?

"Here we are."

Y/n sucked in a breath, looking over at the familiar house. This was the final step.

"Y/n, do you need either of us to walk up with you?" Wilbur spoke, he noticed the way she looked at the house.

She shook her head. "No, I got this..." Stepping out of the car, there were only a few words she'd repeat to herself. 'This is the final step. This is the final step. This is the final step.' It felt like it took forever for her to reach his porch.

As soon as she was face to face with the wooden door, she was quick to hit the doorbell. She just wanted to get this over with, fast. A few moments passed, and just as she reached to hit the doorbell again, she stepped back. The door was opening.

"Y/n?" Clay yawned, his hair was a mess. It was obvious she had just woken him up. "What are you-"

"It's time for me to go now. I'm sorry for waking you up. Here are my keys and a few of your items in case you wanted them while I was-"

"Woah, woah, woah." He interrupted her, rubbing his eyes. "Slow down, you're talking fast. You're leaving? Right now?"

"I..." she sighed. "Yeah, I am."

"And this..." he looked down at the box in her hands. "They're all mine?"

"Yeah, that's kinda the whole point." She gave him a look, "Considering the box says your name."

"Alright... thank you," he nodded, carefully picking the box up from her. "How long are you gonna be gone?"

"I'm not sure. I just know I have to go."

"Why?"

"Because of us, Clay. It'd be better for both of us. We need time apart. We have so much going on in each other's lives. I just need a break."

He watched her, she looked close to tears. Without thinking, Clay pulled his friend into his embrace, holding her close. "I understand. Take as much time as you need. I'll be here."

"Thank you."

The hug was short, Y/n was the first to pull away. As soon as it was over, she muttered a quick goodbye, hurrying back to the car. When the car door shut, Wilbur was quick to jump to asking questions.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything? You're completely sure you want to do this?"

"I'm fine, Wilbur."

"Alright, I just wanted to check." Wilbur paused, looking out the window. "Y/n, would you mind if George and I said our goodbyes to Clay?"

"Go ahead, I'm not the boss of you."

Sitting in the car alone, Y/n got a moment to catch her breath and stop the tears from forming. She did it. She completed the final step. She could do whatever she wanted now. The moment alone in the car felt short, George and Wilbur were back in the car in what felt like seconds. Only, Wilbur sat in the back with Y/n, George driving by himself.

"You ready, Y/n?"

"More than anything." Y/n looked at Wilbur, the way he smiled at her just felt... good. Looking down, she noticed Wilbur gently grabbing her hand in his. She smiled, things were going to start getting good for her, she knew it.

"Wow okay, now I just feel like a driver for you two." George shot a dirty look in the mirror.

"A bad driver," Y/n grinned at her friend. "Start moving, Mr. colorblind." "If I get a ticket for running a red light, I'm blaming you."

With a yawn, Y/n opened her eyes. She had another good night of sleep, it had been weeks since she had a bad night of sleep. For eight months, she had lived in London. At this point, her house in Flordia was sold to a family of three, and she was no longer flatmates with Wilbur. Instead, she was his girlfriend.

Turning over, she faced the beautiful brunette. He was still asleep. She owed him everything. She was now an influencer because of him, he had helped her set up her YouTube channel and introduced her to the fans. He thought it'd be a good job for her, considering how she was a social butterfly and carry conversations.

Clay and Y/n didn't interact as much as they use to. They'd interact on the Dream SMP and over social media. But it was rare for them to speak in private. The only way their relationship got better was by them distancing themselves. What was a beautiful friendship had turned into an acquaintanceship. Clay was still dating Elise, but it seemed like things weren't going the best and there were signs of him planning to break up with her soon.

Wilbur peeked an eye open, looking at his girlfriend. "Morning, Y/n."

"Morning, Wilbur."

Y/n smiled, she knew she was right. Everything got better for her. After all, When the rain ends, there will always be a rainbow.