#I hope high school is going good for you!!

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[Image IDs: Text reading: I have known Elon Musk at a deep level for 14 years, well before he was a household name. We used to text frequently. He would come to by birthday party and invite me to his parties. He would tell me everything about his women problems. As sons of highly accomplished men who married venuses, were violent and lost their fortunes, and who were bullied in high school, we had a number of things in common most people cannot relate to. We would hang out together late in Los Angeles. He would visit my San Diego lab. He invested in my company.

Elon is not a Nazi, per se.

He is something much better, or much worse, depending on how you look at it.

Nazis believed that an entire race was above everyone else.

Elon believes he is above everyone else. He used to think he worked on the most important problems. When I met him, he did not presume to be a technical person—he would be the first to say that he lacked the expertise to understand certain data. That happened later. Now, he acts as if he has all the solutions.

All his talk about getting to Mars to "maintain the light of consciousness" or about "free speech absolution" is actually BS Elon knowingly feeds people to manipulate them. Everything Elon does is about acquiring and consolidating power. That is why he likes far right parties, because they are easier to control. That is also why he gave himself $56 Billion which could have gone to the people actually doing the work and innovations he is taking credit for at Tesla (the reason he does not do patents is because he would not be listed as an inventor as putting a fake inventor on a patent would kill it and moreover it would reveal the superstars behind the work). His lust for power is also why he did xAI and Neuralink, to attempt to compete with OpenAI and NeuroVigil, respectively, despite being affiliated with them. Unlike Tesla and Twitter, he was unable to conquer those companies and tried to create rivals. I fired him with cause in December 2021 when he tried to undermine NV.

Elon did two Nazi salutes.

He did them for five main reasons:

He was concerned that the "Nazi wing" of the MAGA movement, under the influence of Steve Bannon, would drive him away from Trump, somewhere in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, rather than in the West Wing which is where he wants to be. He was already feeling raw over the fact that Trump did not follow his recommendation for Treasury Secretary and that the Senate also did not pick his first choice.

He was upset that he had had to go to Israel and Auschwitz to make up for agreeing with a Nazi sympathizer online and wanted to reclaim his "power" just like when he told advertisers to "go fuck yourself". This has nothing to do with Asperger's;

There are some Jews he actually hates: Sam Altman is among them;

He enjoys a good thrill and knew exactly what he was doing;

His narcissistic self was hoping the audience would reflect the abject gesture back to him, thereby showing complete control and dominion over it, and increasing his leverage over Trump. That did not happen

Bottom line: Elon is not a Nazi but he did give two Nazi Salutes, which is completely unacceptable.

N.B. For the few whining about my post "sans connaissance the cause" and either trembling about my having shattered their illusions about their cult leader or thinking I am defending Elon:

I. My point is that he is transactional rather than ideological;

II. That being said, I am not defending him or his actions, just explaining them and confirming that he did, in fact, do two Nazi Salutes if anyone had doubts or believed the doctored footage of Taylor Swift doing the same thing to normalize what Elon did;

III. At some point, it matters to a few people if one is a Nazi or if one acts like one. My father was a Holocaust Survivor. 32 out of 35 of his family members were murdered by the Nazis. My mother's grandparents were murdered in Auschwitz;

IV. After Elon tried to manipulate NV's stock in 2021, I fired him with cause, and he was unable to exercise his stock options. In the aftermath of the Nazi Salutes, I told both him and his wealth manager to fuck off. Any remaining friendship between us ended with the Nazi Salutes. He is blocked on my end and I am pretty sure I am blocked on his;

V. I did not share what he told me in confidence. I just happened to know him extremely well, the person, the aspirations and the Musk Mask;

VI. I know who I am, have no desire to be famous and give exceedingly few media interviews. I prefer to work in obscurity and let the work speak for itself. I am certainly not envious and would definitely not want Elon's life, including living in a bubble and having to make one outlandish claim after another and manipulate the public, elections and governments to shore up my stock and prevent the bubble from bursting. Unlike Elon, I am an actual scientist and inventor and I am not pretending to be someone I am not like a fellow who got his BA in Econ at 26 all of a sudden pretending to be an expert in mechanical engineering, chemistry, rocket science, neuroscience and AI and keeping the people actually doing the work hidden and paying people to play online games in his name to appear smart and feed his so-called "Supergenius" Personality Cult—the "Imperator" has no clothes, and he knows it. I am just very disappointed in what happened to someone I had a lot of deep admiration for and the first person to found out about my concerns about his behavior was always him;

VII. He is the one who betrayed a number of his friends, including Sergey, and, given his actions, many other people who believed him and believed in him. I have no sympathy for this behavior, and at some point, after having repeatedly confronted it in private, I believe the ethical thing to do is to speak out, forcefully and unapologetically, whatever the risks may be, so as to not be part of the timid flock remaining silent while evil is being done, including propping up far right governments around the world in part to deregulate his companies and become the first trillionaire and otherwise to "rule the planet"—he knows Mars won't be terraformed in his lifetime and he really wants his planet. No joke... Ethics matter. People matter. The truth matters.

I took down Descartes (through the Cambridge Declaration on Consciousness) and I am definitely not afraid of a so-called inventor whose greatest invention in his image.

I will not be silent. You should not be either. I am a sovereign individual, and so are you. I stoop up to bullies, and am stepping out of the dark to do it again.

Stop working for him and being exploited by him. Sell your Tesla and dump your Tesla stock. Nikola Tesla was a great, creative and courageous man who led with ethics and by example and he would not have wanted for his good name to have been used by him and would agree with my principled stance. Sign off of "X" which is boosting far right propaganda, and of your Starlink as well. He is a complete cunt who doesn't give a shit about you—only about power. Just ask Reid Hoffman. He only wants to control, dominate and use you—don't let him and cut him and his business out of your and your loved ones' lives entirely. Remember he is a total miserable self-loathing poser, and unless you are too, he will be much more afraid of you than you should ever be of him.

He will probably come after me, and I am completely fine with that. I am a self-made multibillionaire with an armada of lawyers—literally—and most importantly, I know who I am and who I stand for, the people and their freedoms, whatever happens. He can send his dumb Proud Boys and Oath Keepers after me and they will be butchered on sight. Either way, I would rather die with honor than live as a coward.

"Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented."—Elie Wiesel, Holocaust Survivor and Nobel Peace Prize laureate /End IDs]

[dazevi]

CHAPTER ONE: GHOST IN THE ROOM

heart to heart series | vi x fem!reader

synopsis: with the tour coming to an end, vi's manager insists on the band taking a break. meanwhile, you help your best friend, mel, with planning her wedding.

content warnings: MDNI. angst (lots of it), slightly suggestive, rockstar!vi, writer!reader, eventual exes to lovers (more like exes to fwb to lovers), no smut but mentions of sex, jaymel cameo, bestfriend!mel, time skips, mentions of alcohol and smoking

wc: 11,388 (about—i made some edits lol)

note: good morning!! (its morning where i am) this is my first time writing a series so feedback would be very much appreciated—would love to hear what you guys think!!! also i had some trouble deciding if i wanted to write jayvik or jaymel but i felt like mel would’ve been more fitting for reader to have as a best friend lol anyways here is the first chapter! i hope you all enjoy!!! (fanart by bunimint_ on ig)

navigation | series masterlist | previous chapter

The hum of the venue echoed faintly through the backstage room, muffled by layers of concrete and steel.

The crowd had been electric tonight, their cheers and screams still ringing faintly in Vi’s ears as she sat on the small stool in front of a mirror. Her guitar sat propped against the brick wall behind her, its strings still vibrating in her memory from the final chords of the night. The air in the room smelled faintly of sweat and smoke, the residue of adrenaline and effort clinging to her skin.

The band was as much a family as it was a group of musicians. While Vi stands in front, Ekko was on lead guitar, the youngest of them but by far the most electric on stage, shredding solos and occasionally stepping up to rap when a song called for it. Then there was Steb on drums. He didn’t talk much, but he didn’t really need to. He was a crucial part of the band already and quite creative with his beats. And on bass was Loris, a big guy with a bigger heart, who filled every song with lines that could shake the floor of any venue.

But she was alone now, the rest of the band off celebrating the end of the tour, their laughter faint in the distance, just past the door. Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her—flushed cheeks, damp hair sticking to her temples, her tank top slightly wrinkled. Her chest rose and fell steadily, but her mind wasn’t calm.

Not really.

She reached up to push a strand of hair from her face when her fingers brushed against the cool silver chain around her neck.

Her hand stilled.

The necklace felt heavy on her neck as always, but she hardly thought about anymore.

Tonight, for some reason, it felt heavier. Vi tugged gently at it, pulling the necklace out from under her shirt to let it fall against her chest. They glimmered faintly in the dim backstage light, catching her eye like they always had.

She stared at them for a long moment, her throat tightening.

She hadn’t thought about it—about you—in a while.

Or… maybe that wasn’t true.

Maybe she’d just gotten better at pretending she didn’t.

But now, with the adrenaline of the stage fading away and the silence of the backstage room settling in, it hit her all over again.

Six years had passed since graduating high school. She remembers all the memories that came with it—that came with being with you—as if they happened yesterday.

But, three years.

It had been three years since the two of you had broken up, and Vi still couldn’t let go of this last piece of you. She told herself it was just a necklace, just a reminder of a time when life seemed simple, but deep down she knew it was more than that.

It was a lifeline to a past she hadn’t entirely made peace with—a time when the world didn’t feel quite so big, and her dreams hadn’t come at the cost of losing you.

She blinked at her reflection, her jaw tightening as her fingers played with the rings. The memories came flooding back despite her best efforts to push them down. The nights spent tangled up together in her room, the sound of your laugh as you teased her for pretending to know how to play certain songs when she wanted to impress you, the way you always smelled faintly of lavender and paper from all those books you carried around and loved so much. God, she could almost hear your voice if she closed her eyes, could almost feel the way your hands used to cup her face when you kissed her.

But you weren’t here. And you hadn’t been for years.

Vi exhaled shakily, letting the necklace fall back against her chest. She rubbed her hands over her face, her calloused fingers catching slightly on her damp skin.

She tried to tell herself this was what she wanted—what she had worked so hard for. The sold-out shows, the screaming fans, the endless crowds. It had been her dream for as long as she could remember.

But the truth was, none of it felt quite as fulfilling as she thought it would. Not without you.

The buzz of her phone on the dressing table broke her train of thought. She glanced at it, the screen lighting up with a text from Ekko reminding her to join them at the bar. She hesitated, her gaze drifting back to the mirror.

For a quick moment, she thought about it—thought about texting you. Maybe, calling you. Just to say hi. Just to hear your voice again, even if only through the cold distance of a phone call.

But she knew better. You had probably already moved on, or at least, you deserved to.

Vi stood slowly, adjusting the chain so it tucked back under her shirt, hidden from view. She ran a hand through her hair and grabbed her jacket, shrugging it on. As she walked out of the room, she felt the rings press lightly against her chest.

The party the next night was loud, chaotic, and everything it should have been to celebrate the end of a year-long tour. Vi found herself tucked into a corner of the room, a half-empty beer bottle in her hand as she watched her bandmates laugh and shout over the music. People swarmed around them—fans, industry suits, and a few familiar faces from the tour circuit.

It was exactly what she used to love, the kind of scene she’d dreamed about when she first picked up a guitar in her mom’s garage. But tonight, it all felt hollow.

She plastered on a grin when someone approached, making small talk she wouldn’t remember later, pretending the music wasn’t giving her a headache.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the celebration. She should have been celebrating. A year long tour. Ninety shows. Sold-out venues in cities she never thought she’d even visit, let alone play in.

But now that it was over, the rush was fading.

Vi’s manager had pulled the band aside after the final show, giving them a rundown of what came next.

Or rather, what didn’t come next.

“You’ve earned it,” the manager had said, looking around at the group. “Take a break. Go home. Recharge. You’ve been going non-stop for years. You deserve this.”

Home. The word lingered in Vi’s mind. It felt heavy and unfamiliar.

She sipped her beer and glanced around the party again. Everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives, but Vi felt detached, like she was watching it all through a screen.

The truth was, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do now. This band, for the time being, had been her life. The shows, the music, the adrenaline—it all kept her moving forward, kept her distracted.

But now? Now she was being told to stop.

Her fingers brushed against the chain around her neck, hidden beneath her shirt. She’d done it out of habit, her thumb grazing the spot where the rings rested against her skin. She swallowed hard, her jaw tightening as she felt some sort of pain swell in her chest. She pushed it down, forcing herself to focus on the noise and the people around her.

When a girl caught her eye across the room—pretty, confident, the kind of girl who wouldn’t ask too many questions—Vi didn’t hesitate.

She let the girl take her hand and pull her upstairs to some empty room in the penthouse suite. It was mechanical by now, second nature. She knew what to say, where to touch, how to make it seem like she was present when, in truth, her mind was somewhere else.

Or rather, with someone else.

It always ended the same way.

Vi closed her eyes, and it was you. There was no one else she could think of other than you.

It didn’t help that every time she hovered over someone else, her necklace would dangle just in front of her, and she’d look down and catch a glimpse of you beneath her, all pretty and waiting, with eyes full of love and warmth—the very eyes she fell in love with again and again. Every laugh, every touch, every kiss—it was you she conjured up in her mind.

But it never lasted.

Reality always came crashing back when the girl whispered her name in a way that had no effect on her or when she clung to her a little too tightly, too roughly.

When it was over, Vi sat silently by the bed, pulling on her shirt, avoiding eye contact.

“Can you stay?” the girl asked softly.

“No,” Vi shook her head, grabbing her jacket. She never stayed. She never left her number. And she never looked back.

Walking out into the cold night air, Vi lit a cigarette with trembling hands.

She thought about you—again. She thought about the way you used to smile at her, how your fingers used to trail through her hair when she rested her head in your lap, how you’d call her name so softly that it felt like she was listening to her favorite song. The ache in her chest was unbearable, but it was the only thing that reminded her she was still alive.

Since the breakup, Vi had grown bitter, the world feeling heavier with each passing day. She hadn’t felt truly happy in years, hadn’t laughed the way she used to.

So she buried herself into anything that could distract her—work, music, and nights like this one.

But it was useless.

Because no matter how far she ran, how many strangers she kissed, or how loud the music played, she always had you in her mind.

Always you. Only you.

To the little town she used to call home. To the life she’d walked away from when she chose this one.

And for the first time in a long time, Vi wasn’t sure she’d made the right choice.

The chime of the bell above the flower shop door rang faintly as a customer left, and you glanced up from where you sat behind the counter, absentmindedly wrapping a bouquet of daisies in soft brown paper. The shop smelled sweet and earthy—comforting in a way that nothing else had been for the past few years.

It had been your mom’s idea for you to work here after you graduated college, though you hadn’t exactly protested. It was a nice job to have. Stress free. Relaxing. Arranging flowers, chatting with customers, and helping with orders had its own kind of peace.

You figured it would be nice way to pass some time while saving up money for your own shop—a book shop.

But some time has passed now, and all you’ve got to do is find the courage to go downtown and lease out that nice empty spot by the town gardens.

But, you decide to put that off for next month. Maybe after the wedding.

Your degree in literature had been the culmination of years of dreaming, of late nights spent pouring over books and writing short stories that no one else ever read. And for a while, everything felt like it was falling into place. That book—the one you poured your soul into, the one that had felt like ripping your heart out to write—had done surprisingly well. It wasn’t a bestseller, but it had been enough. Enough to make you believe you were on the right path, to reassure you that the sacrifices had been worth it.

But now, the blank pages in your notebook always stared back at you, mocking. The words didn’t come as easily as they used to. It wasn’t writer’s block, not exactly—it was something deeper. A lack of fire, you called it. And you told yourself that the flower shop was just a temporary stop, a place to regroup until the inspiration came back.

But part of you worried it never would.

As you finished tying a ribbon around the bouquet, your gaze drifted to the small bookshelf by the window. Copies of your book sat there, stacked neatly, the cover facing out. Your mom kept them in stock, proud and supportive as always, even if the sight of them made you wince. Every time you looked at it, you remembered how much of yourself you’d poured into that story—how you’d been told it was heartbreaking and beautiful, and yet writing it had felt like stitching up a wound that refused to heal.

You always tried not to think about who had inspired it.

But of course, you failed. You always did.

Some days, it was easier to pretend that part of your life hadn’t happened, to bury it under layers of routine and busy nights. Other days, it hit you out of nowhere—a song on the radio, a laugh in a movie, the way a stranger’s voice pitched just so.

And suddenly, you’d be back there.

Back to her.

The chime of the bell rang again, snapping you out of your thoughts as a new customer stepped in. You forced a polite smile, brushing your hands against your apron. The shop was warm and safe, a place where you could hide from the rest of the world.

But somewhere out there, the rest of the world kept moving—just as it had for Vi.

You remembered the day you saw that headline.

You hadn’t expected to see it, but there it was—Violet Lanes Spotted Dining With Famous Actress Caitlyn Kiramman—in bold, glaring letters across the entertainment news section of your phone screen.

The date on the article was just two weeks after your breakup, and it felt like the universe had decided to make sure you never forgot. You could still remember the way your heart sank as you read it, like the air was suddenly sucked out of your lungs, leaving you breathless and dizzy.

You’d known about Vi’s fame, how it grew quickly when she started making music professionally, of course—how could you not? She was a rockstar, her face plastered everywhere, her name trending almost daily.

But this… this was different.

Caitlyn Kiramman was an actress with a reputation that preceded her, a star on a different level entirely. Vi was supposed to be with you—at least, you thought so, at the time. But as you read through the details, the pictures of Vi smiling across the table at Caitlyn, her arm casually draped around the actress’s shoulders, something inside you snapped. It was the first time, in the aftermath of everything, that you’d truly felt like you’d lost her.

You tried to dismiss the burning ache in your chest. After all, you hadn’t exactly been an innocent party in your breakup. You had your reasons for walking away, too.

But seeing Vi so effortlessly move on, laughing and drinking wine with someone like Caitlyn—someone who could stand next to her in the spotlight without being swallowed by it—hit you harder than you expected.

It wasn’t jealousy, not really.

It was just you realizing that Vi had stepped into a world without you, just as you had stepped into one without her.

You thought about calling her, but you didn’t.

The last time you’d spoken, you’d said what needed to be said, even if it hadn’t felt like it at the time. You had told yourself you were better off, that you deserved more than being constantly second place to her career.

You didn’t want to call. Instead, you buried yourself in your work, threw yourself into your job, and started writing stories that felt too hollow to ever really be finished. You kept your distance from everything that reminded you of her, trying to forget the feeling of her hand in yours, the sound of her voice when she’d whisper your name in that low, raspy tone that made your heart flutter.

Maybe Vi was happy. Maybe she had found someone else who could give her the things you couldn’t. The thought hit you harder than it should, but you couldn’t stop it.

You thought about the necklace—the one Vi had worn, the one that had been yours too, back in high school. Your fingers traced the small silver chain around your neck, the one you hadn’t taken off since that night you two shared it.

Had she kept hers? You wondered, for the briefest second, if she still thought about you.

But you had no way of knowing. You hadn’t heard from her in years, and you had convinced yourself that it was for the best.

The familiar sound of the bell above the shop’s door jingled softly as your mom stepped out from the back room, balancing a couple of boxes in her arms. She looked like she’d been at it for hours, strands of her hair falling from the bun on top of her head.

“Sweetheart,” she said, setting the boxes down on the counter with a thud. “Mel’s going to call about the flowers soon. You know how particular she can be about the arrangements.”

You sighed, pausing mid-wrap on a bouquet of white roses and eucalyptus.

“I know, Mom,” you muttered, though you couldn’t quite keep the smile off your face.

Mel had been one of your closest friends since high school, and if anyone had a reason to be particular, it was her. She deserved the perfect wedding, after all.

“She’s already called three times this week about those centerpieces. I’m pretty sure I know her vision better than she does at this point.”

Your mom laughed softly, brushing her hands on her apron. “She’s just excited. It’s a big day.”

She gave you a knowing look, the kind that said she wasn’t just talking about Mel.

Before you could respond, the phone behind the counter buzzed, cutting through the silence of the shop. You reached for it instinctively, already knowing who it would be.

“I swear, she has a sixth sense for these things,” you mumbled as you picked up the receiver.

“Hello, Lane Florals, how can I help—”

“Don’t even start with the formalities, I know it’s you,” came Mel’s voice, bright and slightly exasperated on the other end. “And I know I’ve already called you a million times this week, but I need to talk about the bouquets again. Jayce thinks we’re good, but I’m having second thoughts about the hydrangeas.”

You let out a dramatic groan, though you couldn’t help the laugh that followed. “Mel, you’ve gotta stop stressing. You’re going to make me go gray before your wedding day. What’s wrong with the hydrangeas now?”

“I don’t know!” she exclaimed. “I just feel like they don’t have the right… feeling. Maybe we should go with lilies? Or peonies? Or—oh! Do you think we could mix in some sunflowers? Jayce looooves sunflowers.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, glancing over at your mom, who was now suppressing a grin as she watered the potted plants by the window.

“Mel, we’re two weeks away from the wedding,” you said gently. “If we keep changing things, you’re not going to have any flowers at all.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Mel sighed dramatically. “You’re right. Ugh, you’re right. I’m just overthinking it. I’m sorry, I’ll stop being such a pain your ass.”

“You’re not a pain,” you said, softening. “You’re just… a perfectionist. But it’s all going to be perfect, I promise. The hydrangeas are beautiful, and they’re going to look amazing with everything else. Trust me. I’ll throw in some sunflowers, too, for Jayce.”

Mel let out a small, relieved laugh. “Thanks, babe. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Lose your mind, probably,” you teased, leaning back against the counter. “But seriously, you’re going to be fine. And as your maid of honor, I think you should take my advice and roll with it.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, and you could hear the smile in her voice. “Oh, and don’t forget, you promised to help me with the seating chart this weekend.”

“I know, I know,” you assured her, though the thought of wrangling that seating chart made you want to pour yourself a strong drink. “I’ll see you Saturday, okay?”

“Okay. Love you!” she said quickly before hanging up.

You set the phone down with a sigh, turning to your mom, who was now watching you with an amused expression. “Hydrangeas again?” she asked.

“Hydrangeas,” you confirmed with a laugh, shaking your head. “I swear, if I hear the word one more time, I’m going to lose it.”

But despite the teasing, you felt nothing but warmth for Mel. She was one of the few people who had stuck by you through everything, and seeing her so happy with Jayce was something you couldn’t begrudge, no matter how stressful wedding planning had become.

You glanced at the calendar on the wall, your thoughts drifting briefly, as they so often did, to Vi.

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

At least, that’s what Vi had told you when she kissed you goodbye at the airport years ago, both of you standing on the edge of the new chapter—her with her band’s first big break, and you heading off to college.

She had cupped your face, her calloused hands warm against your cheeks, and promised, “We’ll make it work. You and me, we’re solid, baby. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

But it did.

You used to call everyday. Text everyday. It was so often that Vi would fall asleep on the phone every night, to the sound of your voice, telling her how much you missed her. You’d do the same, too.

But the calls that used to stretch into the early hours of the morning grew shorter and less frequent.

At first, Vi always made time for you, even if she was in the middle of nowhere, some dingy tour bus parked at a rest stop. She’d stay on the line, her gravelly voice cutting through the static as she told you about the show that night or the funny thing Ekko had done to annoy Steb. And you’d tell her about your classes, your professors, the friends you were making in your lit program. She also always used to mention you in interviews when people would ask the band if they were single or whatever.

And Vi would always say, “I’ve actually got a girl waiting for me back at home,” with cheekiest smile she could throw on.

For a while, it was enough.

But then the band’s success started to pick up, and Vi’s world got louder, busier. The calls started to come later and later—or sometimes not at all.

You’d stay up, staring at your phone, waiting for it to ring, only to wake up hours later with an empty inbox and a dull ache in your chest.

And the texts? They dwindled too.

You used to send each other everything—pictures, inside jokes, songs that reminded you of each other.

Days would pass before you’d hear from her. And when you did, it was always rushed. A quick voice message, “Sorry, babe, crazy day. Miss you, though. Love you,” followed by radio silence for the rest of the week.

You tried to understand. You really did.

You knew how much this meant to her, how hard she’d worked to get where she was. You were proud of her, more than you could ever put into words.

But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

One night, you were in your dorm room, sitting at your desk with a stack of notes and an unfinished essay in front of you, your phone balanced precariously on the edge. Vi had promised to call after a show—it had been over two weeks since you’d last spoken properly—but the clock was inching toward midnight, and there was still no word.

When the phone finally buzzed, you snatched it up, your heart pounding. “Vi?”

Her voice came through the line, raspy and tired. “Hey, baby. Sorry, show ran late.”

“It’s okay,” you lied, sinking back into your chair. “How was it?”

She sighed, and you could hear the exhaustion in it. “Good. Crowd was wild. But I’m beat.”

There was a pause, one that stretched too long, too heavy. You could feel the distance between you, the miles and the time zones and the weeks of missed calls.

“I miss you,” you said softly, your voice breaking a little.

“I miss you too,” she said, but it sounded automatic, like something she’d said a thousand times before—who are you kidding? She probably has.

You wanted to ask her why she hadn’t called, why it felt like you were slipping further and further apart.

But the words caught in your throat.

Instead, you said, “When are you coming home?”

“Uh…” Another pause. Then, “I don’t know, babe. Not for a while.”

It felt like a punch to the gut.

“Right,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I’m sorry,” she added quickly, like she could sense your disappointment in her. “It’s just… everything’s so crazy right now. But I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Okay.”

When the call ended, you stared at your phone for a long time, tears blurring your vision. Vi had always been your safe place. But at that time, it felt like she was slipping away, and no matter how tightly you held on, you couldn’t stop it.

And Vi felt it too.

She hated the way things were between you, the way she could hear the hurt in your voice even when you tried to hide it. She wanted to fix it, to drop everything, fly to you and hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay.

But the truth was, she didn’t know if it would be.

Because no matter how much you loved each other, the distance was pulling you apart. And neither of you knew how to stop it.

NOVEMBER, THREE YEARS AGO.

It had been months since you’d last seen her—months that felt like years. You’d tried to bury yourself in your studies, keeping busy so you didn’t have to think about the loneliness she left behind with you.

But then your phone rang one rainy afternoon, and when Vi’s name flashed on the screen, you hesitated for only a moment before answering.

“Hey,” you said softly, curling up on your bed as you balanced the phone against your ear.

“Hey, babe,” she replied, her voice a little hoarse, like she’d been yelling or maybe singing too much. “How’s school?”

“It’s… fine,” you said, trying to keep your tone neutral.

You wanted to tell her everything—how much you missed her, how hard it was to fall asleep without her voice in your ear—but you swallowed the words.

“What are you up to?” You asked, bringing a hand up to rub the side of your neck.

“Nothing, right now… I’m in bed. I just finished up at the studio,” she said quietly. “It ran pretty late so…”

“Are you doing okay?”

You hear her take a breath before sighing softly, “Yeah, I’m… I just miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you echoed.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then she said, “I was thinking… I want you to come to New York.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “New York?”

“Yeah. The band got invited to this award show. It’s kind of a big deal, I guess. I—I want you to be my date.”

Your stomach twisted at the invitation. You could hear the hope in her voice, and for a second, all you wanted to do was say yes. But then reality set in.

“Vi, I don’t know. I have finals coming up, and plane tickets are—”

“Will be taken care of,” she interrupted quickly. “I’ll handle it, everything. Just say yes.”

“Vi…”

“I wanna see you,” she said, and her voice was soft, almost pleading. It caught you off guard. “Please. It’s been too long. I miss you.”

You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the wall, and sighed.

It was always hard to say no to Vi.

“Okay,” you murmured. “I’ll come.”

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice brightening.

“Yeah.”

The next few weeks all happened too quickly.

Vi arranged everything—a plane ticket, a car to pick you up from the airport, even a dress for the event. You didn’t know how she’d managed it all, but you weren’t surprised. She could practically do anything she sets her mind to.

When you stepped off the plane and into the terminal, you were expecting to just follow the signs to baggage claim, look for the driver Vi had mentioned in passing, and quietly make your way to whatever fancy hotel she had booked for you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate her effort—Vi always went all out when it came to you—but you figured this was just another one of those things she couldn’t be present for, one more event she’d planned out from a distance.

But when you rounded the corner toward the arrivals area, your feet froze mid-step.

There she was.

Vi was standing near the entrance, her tall frame wrapped in an all-black outfit. A long black coat hung open over a fitted turtleneck and dark jeans, her combat boots planted firmly on the tiled floor. In her hands, she held a small bouquet of flowers—white daisies and a few pale pink roses wrapped in simple brown paper.

She looked every bit the rockstar she’d become, yet look on her face told a different story.

Her eyes scanned the crowd eagerly, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the paper wrapping as though she were nervous.

Your breath hitched, and tears prickled at the corners of your eyes.

For a moment, you couldn’t move.

Then Vi’s eyes found yours.

Her face lit up like the sun breaking through a storm, and before you could even process what was happening, she was running toward you. Her long strides closed the distance in seconds, and then she was there—her arms wrapping tightly around you, pulling you into her chest.

“Hey, baby,” she whispered against your hair.

You couldn’t respond.

Your throat was too tight, and the only thing you could do was cling to her, burying your face in her neck as the tears spilled over. The flowers were crushed slightly between your bodies, but neither of you cared. Vi’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, holding you like she was afraid you might disappear.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered.

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands cupping your face as she scanned your features like she needed to memorize them all over again.

She let out a breathy sigh, a smile making its way onto her face, “God, you’re even prettier than I remember.”

You let out a watery laugh, wiping at your cheeks with trembling fingers.

“Shut up,” you teased, though your voice wavered.

Vi grinned, a little sheepishly, and handed you the now slightly crumpled bouquet. “These are for you. Sorry, I think I crushed them a little.”

“They’re perfect,” you said, taking the flowers and holding them close to your chest.

She smiled again, softer this time, and reached out to take your suitcase.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. We can go get lunch after the hotel. I know a place you might like.”

And for the first time in a long while, being with her finally felt right.

The weekend passed like something out of a dream. Vi stuck close to you, almost glued to your side, like she couldn’t bear to let go of you for even a second. She carried your bags, opened every door, kissed you in every private corner she could find.

In the the hotel room, with the city skyline stretching endlessly outside the window, she kissed you until her lips felt bruised, like she was trying to make up for every kiss she hadn’t been able to give you.

She made love to you slowly, tenderly, the way you deserved—whispering soft words against your skin, brushing stray strands of hair from your face, as if she couldn’t believe you were there with her.

“God, I missed you,” she murmured over and over again, her voice thick and quiet, spilling out each time her lips found yours. “I missed you so much.”

And it wasn’t just the being this close to you that left Vi breathless—it was everything else.

The way your laugh filled the room when she cracked a joke. The way you shyly tucked your head into her shoulder when she kissed your temple in public. The way your voice softened when you told her you missed her, that you loved her. Vi felt like she was relearning you, rediscovering all the tiny details she’d loved about you from the start—the way your fingertips felt trailing down her arm, the way you hummed absentmindedly when you were happy, the way you fit perfectly in her arms like you’d been made for her.

For once, Vi wasn’t thinking about work, about the band, about the next tour or the endless cycle of interviews and late-night rehearsals.

None of that mattered here.

The world felt smaller, quieter, when it was just the two of you.

She couldn’t believe how much she’d missed you, how much she’d missed this.

As the weekend was drawing to a close, you were lying in bed together, your head resting on her chest. Vi traced lazy circles along your shoulder with her fingertips, her other hand draped protectively across your waist. The sheets were tangled around your bare legs, the city lights painting soft, dim patterns on the walls.

“I forgot what this feels like,” Vi had said, her voice almost a whisper. “Just… being with you. I missed it.”

You tilted your head to look up at her, your eyes warm and full of something she couldn’t quite name.

“Me too,” you said softly, your hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face.

Vi leaned down to kiss you again slowly, her hand cradling your jaw.

She wanted to stay in this moment forever, to bottle it up and carry it with her wherever she went.

Being with you, she wasn’t worried about the distance, about the time apart, about anything other than you.

But happiness like that didn’t last for long and, tomorrow, it would all go to shit.

The night of the music award show was everything Vi had hoped it would be, glimmering lights, and flashing cameras. She could hardly contain her pride as she stood beside you, her arm around your waist, guiding you through. Everything had been planned, from your dress to the after-party, and it seemed like everything was falling into place.

You looked stunning in the dress she had picked out for you. It was a deep shade of red that hugged your body in all the right places, with delicate lace detailing along the neckline that made your girlfriend want to cover your collarbone with kisses. Vi couldn’t take her eyes off you when she first saw you in it. She kept telling you how beautiful you looked, her voice filled with awe every time she caught a glimpse of you.

You had always been beautiful in Vi’s eyes, but tonight, you looked like someone straight out of a dream, her dreams. She felt a pride swell up inside her every time she looked at you, like the world had never seemed brighter, knowing that you, her girl, were beside her.

But despite how nice it was all going, it wasn’t without its discomforts for you.

There were moments when you felt too out of place in the spotlight, when the flashing of cameras made your chest tighten, or when you were pulled away from Vi to stand beside some celebrities for interviews, your smile feeling stiff and forced. Every time you were apart from her, even for a moment, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of loneliness, wanting to be close to her again.

The show itself went smoothly, though.

Vi did her thing and you watched from the sidelines, starstruck and completely in awe. It was so surreal to see her like this, her bandmates by her side, to see other celebrities you watched from home, the crowd cheering for her every time her name was called. She looked radiant. And it was hard to not feel overwhelmed by it all.

But the further the night dragged on, the more it felt like you were losing her to this new world.

You felt more of it at the after party. Vi had been swept away by a group of celebrities who wanted to talk to her, leaving you standing alone at the bar.

Ekko noticed and came over to keep you company, but it still wasn’t the same. He asked about how things were at home, mentioned how much he missed eating Benzo’s cooking. And it was nice talking to him—nice to have a friend around who didn’t feel too far into the fame as everyone else did in the room.

As you leaned against the bar, nursing your drink, you found your eyes wandering back to Vi, standing across the room, laughing and chatting with some famous actress, her hand resting on her arm. She looked completely at ease, her eyes sparkling as she talked with the other guests.

But it was clear that you that were nothing more than a bystander to her world now.

Ekko’s voice snapped you out of your daze. “You okay?” he asked, noticing your distracted expression.

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… a bit tired, I guess.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “You sure? Vi looks like she’s having a blast. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”

You smiled again, though it felt hollow. “Yeah, she always has a way of talking to people, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, she does,” Ekko agreed, grinning. “But you know she’s really happy to have you here tonight. She’s always talking about you. Can’t get her to shut up about you sometimes.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips, but it faded almost as quickly as it appeared.

You stand there, drink in hand, feeling an odd tension settle in your chest as you watch Vi across the room. She’s talking to someone—a tall woman, all legs and sharp angles, with dark blue hair that catches the light in an almost ethereal way. The way the actress moves, the way she laughs—effortless, magnetic, like she’s always been in the spotlight.

You’ve seen her before, vaguely—magazines, red carpets, maybe a movie trailer. She’s the kind of woman people can’t help but stare at. Perfectly polished, perfectly poised.

And there’s Vi, her face bright with a smile you once thought was reserved just for you. But now, as she stands there, chatting easily, you feel like a ghost in the room, watching from the sidelines.

Your fingers tighten around your glass, but you don’t move. You can’t.

It’s strange, this feeling that tightens your chest, this longing and bitterness you can’t seem to shake. Vi’s laugh carries over through the party, and for a moment, you close your eyes, remembering when you were the one who made her laugh like that. When you were the one who kissed that smile from her lips.

But it all feels so far away now.

The more you watch them, the more out of place you feel.

The more you look at Vi, the more she seems to belong in this world—this world of lights and flashes, of perfect strangers who all seem to know exactly who they are, exactly where they fit.

And you?

You’re still standing in the corner of this room, feeling like you’re made of something that doesn’t belong, something that’s too small for this space.

You swallow, trying to force down the lump in your throat.

It’s stupid, you know it’s stupid.

You’re just a girl from a small town with college exams coming up and some books you wrote.

Nothing glamorous.

And Vi—Vi’s everything you aren’t. She’s out here, living the life you never had the guts to chase. You can’t even blame her for it. She’s been nothing but amazing, talented and hardworking, giving you so much of herself, even when it all felt too complicated.

But seeing her like this, only reminds you of how out of place you feel now, in her world, in this world.

“I… I think I’m just gonna get some fresh air,” you say quietly.

You excuse yourself from Ekko, offering him a small smile as you slip away from the conversation. You need air—fresh, cool, anything to clear the thoughts that have taken root in your mind.

You take the elevator down to the ground floor, your heels clicking softly on the polished floors. The doors open with a soft ding, and you step out, immediately greeted by the cool bite of the night air. It’s a entirely different compared to the warmth of the party inside, and for a moment, it feels like a relief, like you can finally breathe without the walls of the venue pressing in on you.

The city lights glow in the distance, the hustle of traffic and the low hum of conversations from nearby streets filled your ears. You pull your coat tighter around you, the fabric clinging to your shoulders, but it doesn’t do much to shield you from the knot tightening in your chest.

You stand there for a moment, breathing deeply. The cool air is refreshing, but it can’t seem to cool the heat rising in your cheeks, the bitter ache in your stomach. Everything about it reminds you of how far things have come—and how far apart you and Vi have drifted.

You didn’t want to feel this way tonight. You didn’t want to spend another evening consumed by jealousy, by doubt.

But here you are, standing outside in the dark, unable to fight the feeling.

You really hadn’t expected it to be this hard.

Maybe it’s silly to think you could’ve ever fit into that world.

But the truth stings.

You want things to be different. You want to be the one she looks at, the one she chooses. But everything about tonight has made you feel like that’s something you’ll never be again.

You look up at the sky, the stars barely visible through the city’s haze, and for a moment, you close your eyes, letting the cold air fill your lungs.

You wish things were different. You wish you could go back to when you were everything to each other.

But you can’t.

Not anymore.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Vi’s voice cuts through your train of thought.

She must have slipped out unnoticed, and now, there she is, standing behind you. Her arms come around your waist, pulling you closer, her front pressed against your back. Her chin rests gently on your shoulder, her breath tickling the back of your neck.

“Hi, baby,” she muttered quietly.

You want to speak, to tell her how you feel, how the space between you both is only growing wider.

But the words stick in your throat.

Vi stays there, waiting for you, her body warm against yours. Her hands move from your waist, softly tracing over your arms, gently coaxing you into the safety of her touch, even though you don’t know how safe it feels anymore.

For a moment, all you can do is breathe, just breathe, feeling her arms around you… as if it’s the last time you’ll feel it.

When you do finally speak, it’s quieter than you intend, barely above a whisper. “Vi, I think we… I think we should stop this.”

Vi stiffens behind you, her hands pausing on your skin.

You can feel her heart rate quicken slightly. But she doesn’t pull away.

Instead, she presses closer, her breath brushing your ear as she whispers, “What are you talking about?”

She holds you tighter, and for a brief second, you feel the urge to give in to her touch, to forget the mess in your head.

But it’s not enough anymore.

You try to speak again, but your words come out jumbled, like you’re struggling to find the right pieces to fit together.

“I… I don’t know. We’re not the same anymore.” You let out a shaky breath, frustrated with yourself for not being able to explain the mess of feelings inside your chest. “It’s like we’re just… strangers now. I can’t keep pretending it’s the same, Vi.”

Vi’s hands stay on your waist, but you feel her pause for a moment. She pulls back just a little, enough to look at you, but not enough to fully let go.

You can hear the uncertainty in her voice when she speaks, “What? It’s still us. You and me. I—” She swallows, and you can hear the faint tremor in her words. “I thought we were okay.”

You shake your head, your chest tight.

“We’re not. We haven’t been for a while. And, I can’t tell if you even notice. Do you? You’re… you’re so far away, and I’m just… here.” The pain in your voice stings, but it feels like it’s the only truth you have left. “And I don’t know how to make it work anymore. I don’t know how to feel close to you when you’re a million miles away all the time.”

Vi’s arms move again, but this time, they’re softer, as if she’s afraid you’ll break under her touch.

“Don’t say that. I-I do notice. I do. I know it’s been a bit rough lately, but we can fix this… right? We’ve always been able to fix things before.” She tries to lighten the air, a little laugh escaping her lips as if she’s trying to erase the tension in the air. “I-I promise to call more, baby, please—”

But it doesn’t reach you.

You step back from her, the space between you both growing with each step, and for the first time in so long, you feel something other than the ache in your chest. It’s cold, too cold, and the distance feels like it’s swallowing you whole.

Vi’s arms drop at her sides, her hands twitching as if she doesn’t know what to do with them.

She watches you carefully, her eyes wide as you move away. When she tries to move closer, you flinch. It’s instinct, something you didn’t mean to do, but you can’t help it. You just need space.

And Vi hates it.

“I wanna go home,” you say, your voice shaking with the everything you’ve been trying to ignore, trying to bury.

Vi’s smile falters, her brows furrow as she processes your words. She takes a small step toward you, the panic creeping into her voice. “O-Okay. I-I’ll call a cab and we can go back to the hotel and—“

You cut her off before she can finish, your heart hammering in your chest. “No, Vi. I want to go back home. I don’t… I don’t belong here with you.”

The ring in her ears and as soon as they leave your lips, you can see the color drain from Vi’s face. Her breath catches in her throat, and you watch her, eyes wide, disbelief settling in. She furrows her eyebrows, her entire posture faltering as she tries to process what you just said.

“What?” she whispers.

She takes a shaky breath, her gaze searching your face, looking for any sign that this might be some kind of cruel joke, some kind of misunderstanding.

But you can’t give her that. You can’t pretend anymore.

“I just…” you start, but the words get caught in your throat, like you’re suffocating on them. You look at her, at the girl you once knew better than anyone else, and you realize that you’re not the same person anymore. “I thought I could keep pretending, but I can’t. And… I-I don’t see how we can change anything right now. I’m sorry, I—”

Vi opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She just stares at you, like she’s trying to wrap her mind around what’s happening, and in her silence, you hear all the things you can’t say.

The tears begin yo roll down your cheeks and Vi wants to wipe them away immediately, wants to take all that pain you’re feeling away for good… but…

“I need to go home,” you whisper again, this time your voice firmer, because if you don’t say it again, you might never leave.

And the look in her eyes—this heartbreaking, raw pain that flits across her face—makes your heart shatter even more.

Because you never wanted to hurt her.

But you’re not sure how to fix any of this. How to find your way back when it feels like everything between you two has crumbled into dust.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, but the words feel so small. So insignificant.

Vi doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there, frozen in place. She swallows hard, her lips trembling as she finally finds her voice.

“I thought we were… I thought you wanted to be with me.”

“I always want to be with you, I do, but this—” you bring a hand up, wiping your cheeks quickly. “What did you think was gonna to happen after this weekend’s over? That we’d have a great time here together, then everything would be okay? All of our problems aren’t just magically gonna disappear, Vi… You barely call. You barely text. And I’ll go back home and you’ll stay here and I… What, I won’t see you again for another four—five months? I-I cant be in a relationship with someone who—fuck, with someone who can’t even really be with me. And I don’t want to make you choose. I can’t make you choose but, Vi…”

Her eyes widen in panic, her face twisting with desperation.

“Don’t say that. I-I can fix this. We can fix this, baby, just—” she starts, her voice broken, her words faltering, as though she’s trying to pull something, anything, to make things right.

“Stop it, Violet,” you say quiet.

“No, no, just—just tell me what to do,” she says. She’s shaking, but it’s not the gentle tremor of someone trying to hold it together. It’s raw. It’s frantic. “Tell me what I need to do to, please—”

You stand your ground, feeling the anger swell within you as her frustration starts to mirror your own.

“Stop it.”

“I love you.”

You freeze. Your heart skips a beat, and for a split second, you wonder if she’s right, if there’s a chance, if somehow everything can go back to how it used to be.

But then the reality sets in.

“Are you happy with me, Vi?” You ask.

Vi looks at you and furrows her brows, confused at the question, “Of course, I am—”

“You’re happy with the way things are right now? Really?”

Vi freezes, the words caught in her throat. The certainty she usually wears like armor slips away.

“You’re happy with how far apart we always are? You’re happy that we barely talk anymore? That we don’t have time for each other anymore? T-That when I go home, you’ll forget all about me until you suddenly remember that you have a girlfriend miles and miles away, just waiting for you to call or pick up your damn phone?”

“I…” she stammers, her brow furrowing as she tries to find the right thing to say, but nothing feels right. She’s taken aback, not just by your question but by the realization behind it—the way your words cut through the illusion that she’s been clinging to, that everything is okay.

The silence between you stretches for so long and Vi fucking hates it. She hates the way you’re looking at her, as if you already know the answer she’s too afraid to give. Because deep down, she knows she’s not happy—not with the distance, not with the missed calls and the half-hearted promises, not with the way she’s been letting you slip away.

But admitting that feels like admitting defeat, like saying out loud that she’s failing you, failing this.

“I—” she tries again, but she looks away, her jaw tightening. “I’m sorry.”

She wants to say that she’s happy, that you’re enough, that she wouldn’t trade this for anything—but the truth is, she doesn’t even know what this is anymore either.

And by the look in your eyes, neither do you.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, before opening them again to look up at her. Your hand reaches up, trembling slightly, and cups Vi’s cheek. Her skin is warm, damp from the tears she didn’t realize had fallen until now. The moment your palm makes contact, Vi leans into it instinctively. Her eyes flutter closed, and her shoulders quake as she lets out the softest, most broken sound—a quiet sob she tries to hide but can’t.

“Don’t,” she whispers, shaky and fragile. “Please…”

You don’t pull your hand away. Instead, your thumb brushes along the line of her cheekbone, and how gentle you were with her makes her cry harder. She feels your breath, and she hates how much she craves you, hates how much it hurts.

You swallow hard, the sound of your barely louder than a breath as you say, “This isn’t good for us.”

Vi’s eyes snap open, bloodshot and wide, her lips parting in disbelief. For a second, she freezes, the words not fully sinking in, like her brain refuses to process them.

“We should stop,” you say again, softer this time. Your hand is still on her cheek, and Vi clings to it, her larger hand wrapping around yours as though she could keep you there forever. “We’re hurting each other, Violet. We’ve been hurting each other for a while now.”

“No,” Vi pleads, shaking her head, her voice so weak you could barely hear her as she presses harder into your touch, desperate. “I don’t wanna stop. Please, just—let me fix this—”

You shake your head, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep the tears at bay, though they’re already blurring your vision.

“It’s not about fixing anything, Vi. We’re just in two completely different places and…” Your voice falters for a moment, breaking. “…and it’s not working for us.”

Vi’s breath hitches, and the hand gripping yours starts to tremble.

“I don’t know how to—” Her voice cracks, and she looks down, her tears falling freely onto the ground. “I don’t know how to do any of this this without you.”

Your heart clenches painfully, and for a fleeting second, you want to take it all back. You lean down slightly, pressing your forehead to hers, closing your eyes.

“Yeah, you do,” you whisper, the words like a final goodbye. “You’ve been doing all of this without me already.”

She shakes her head softly, “That’s not true.”

Vi’s breath comes out shaky, her tears mingling with yours as she presses herself closer, trying to savor the moment, to memorize the feel of you before it slips away entirely.

“I love you,” she says, words trembling as if the words are the last lifeline she has left to offer.

She watches you closely, her wide, teary eyes searching yours, desperate for something—anything—to tell her this isn’t the end.

But you don’t say it back right away.

And for those few agonizing seconds, the silence feels suffocating. Vi’s heart pounds painfully in her chest, and a lump forms in her throat, threatening to choke her. Her lips part to say something, to plead again, but before she can, you finally speak.

“I love you, Violet.”

It’s everything Vi wanted to hear, but as soon as the words leave your lips, they cut deeper than any silence ever could. There’s a softness to your voice, a finality in the way you say it, and Vi knows.

She knows what it means, what you’re trying to say without saying it outright.

And it hurts so fucking bad.

Her breath catches, and her hands drop slightly from where they’d been holding you, as if the weight of the words has drained her strength.

She shakes her head, voice cracking as she stammers, “Don’t say it like that.”

You look at her with so much tenderness it almost shatters her completely, but it’s that softness that makes it clear you’ve already made up your mind.

“Vi,” you whisper, and the way you say her name only makes the tears come faster.

She hates it. She hates how much of a goodbye it sounds.

“I love you so much,” she says, words breaking, barely audible now.

But even as the words leave her mouth, she knows they’re futile. She knows that no matter how much she loves you, no matter how much she tries to hold on, she can’t stop you from slipping through her fingers.

And for the first time, the love she’s always clung to feels hollow, like it’s not enough to keep you here.

Like she’s already lost you.

After a moment, you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to Vi’s cheek, the warmth of your lips lingering on her skin.

Vi closes her eyes at the touch, savoring it, even though something deep inside her tells her this is the last time. She wants to hold onto it, to freeze this moment, to make you stay just a little longer. But you’re already stepping back, pulling away from her reach.

“I’m gonna head back to the hotel,” you say quietly.

Vi nods instinctively, her breath catching in her throat as she responds, “I’ll go with you.”

Just a little more time, she thinks. She just wants whatever time she could get with you. Her voice is so weak under her breath, but she takes a step forward, already moving to follow, to stay by your side no matter what.

But then you stop her.

You place a hand up between you—not to push her away, but enough to keep her there, frozen in place. And when she sees the look in your eyes, Vi feels the first crack split through her chest.

“I’ll be okay,” you say softly. “I’ll call a cab and find my way back.”

It’s not the words themselves that break her; it’s the way you say them, like you’re letting her go in every sense of the word. Her heart shatters, the pieces falling one by one, and she doesn’t know how to stop it. She doesn’t know how to stop you.

“Let me go with you,” she breathes out, her voice, desperate to see more of you for as long as she still can.

But you shake your head gently, the tears in your eyes threatening to spill over, and she knows there’s no changing your mind.

She’s never felt so powerless, so useless, and all she can do is stand there, watching you walk away, feeling like you’re taking every part of her with you.

She watches your silhouette grow smaller and smaller, her mind clinging to every detail—how your hair looked under the dim streetlights, how soft your lips felt against her cheek, how your voice cracked when you said her name. She already misses all of it, every little piece of you.

But deep down, she knows she’s been missing you for far longer than just tonight.

The air is damp and Vi doesn’t move. She doesn’t know how long she’s been standing there, rooted to the ground, staring at the spot where you disappeared from her sight. A faint drizzle begins, tiny drops kissing her skin. She barely notices it at first, but soon the rain falls harder, soaking through her clothes.

She shivers, but she doesn’t move. Her hands fall limply at her sides, her mind replaying every moment of the night, every word you said, every second she couldn’t hold on to you. Her knees feel weak, but the ache in her chest is worse.

She wants to run after you, to stop you, but even if she said all the right words, she knows you’d still be leaving.

And it’s her fault, she thinks. She let it all slip away.

Hours pass, or maybe just minutes—it doesn’t matter. By the time she finally stumbles back to the party, her hair is dripping, her hands are trembling, and her heart feels hollow.

You booked the earliest flight you could, and as the sky begins to lighten, you pull your coat tighter around you and make your way to the airport.

In the next couple of days, in a big headline on your phone, you find out that Vi punched someone at that party.

SATURDAY, PRESENT DAY.

The hum of soft music drifted through the flower shop as you sat at the counter, a list of names and scribbled notes sprawled out in front of you. A steaming cup of tea sat untouched by your elbow, the faint aroma of lavender and honey filling the air.

You tapped your pen lightly against the edge of the paper, squinting at Mel’s unusually messy handwriting.

“Does Jayce even know this many people?” you muttered, half to yourself and half to Mel, who sat cross-legged on a stool across from you, flipping through her wedding binder.

Mel let out a melodious laugh, shaking her head.

“Oh, you’d be surprised. He seems to think everyone he’s ever spoken to needs a seat at this wedding.”

She reached over and plucked the list from your hands, glancing at the names.

“This is ridiculous. He even invited his college professor,” she squinted, pointing at a name near the bottom of the page, “—Heimer…dinger?”

You laughed softly, shrugging. “Don’t look at me.”

Mel groaned, leaning back and rubbing her temples. “I swear, at this rate, we’re going to have to build a second venue just to fit all these people.”

“Maybe you could just cut the guest list in half,” you suggested lightly, marking a few names off with your pen. “Say the venue has a sudden capacity issue.”

She smirked. “Tempting. Though, knowing Jayce, he’d probably build a whole new venue himself just to make sure no one gets left out.”

You smiled at her, then turned your attention back to the seating chart—you were only halfway through the list. You could feel the warmth of the afternoon sun filtering through the shop’s windows. The scent of fresh blooms mixed with the faint perfume Mel always wore, filling the air with a sense of comfort you’ve gotten familiar with long ago.

“Do you think my mother will mind sitting next to Jayce’s?” Mel asks, uncertain. She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and frowns at the chart like it’s a puzzle she just can’t solve.

You glance up at her and let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “I think they’re are old enough to behave for one meal.”

Mel sighs, throwing her hands up in mock defeat. “You clearly haven’t met my family.”

“Yes, I have,” you roll your eyes and lean forward, studying the chart. “Okay, well… how about this?”

You move a few names around, scribbling quick arrows to new spots.

“We put your mom near your college friends. She can’t cause too much trouble if they’re surrounded by strangers.”

Mel grins at you, resting her chin on her hand as she watches you work.

“Perfect,” she says.

“How’s your mom holding up with all of this?” Mel asked suddenly, watching you as you meticulously rearranged the tiny paper name tags on the chart.

“She’s good,” you replied, your voice soft. “Excited, mostly. She keeps talking about how nice it is to have the shop involved in something so big.”

You paused, your hand hovering over one of the name tags.

“She’s just happy to see you and Jayce so… settled, I guess.”

Mel tilted her head, studying you with a thoughtful look in her eyes. “And you? How are you holding up?”

You hesitated, your fingers lightly brushing against the edge of the seating chart. For a moment, you considered giving her the same polite, surface-level answer you gave everyone else. But this was Mel—your best friend, the one person who’d known you through every high and low.

“I’m fine,” you said finally, though the words felt heavier than they should have. “Really.”

Mel’s gaze softened, but she didn’t push. Instead, she reached over and placed a reassuring hand on yours, her smile warm and understanding. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing great. And if you need anything—anything at all—you know I’m here.”

The phone rings before you can reply. You instinctively reach for it, the receiver cool against your hand as you press it to your ear. “Lane Florals, how can I help you?”

“Oh, hey! It’s Jayce,” a familiar voice greets you cheerfully on the other end. “Just checking in to see if Mel’s still holding you hostage over there.”

You laugh softly. “Hostage is a strong word, but yes, we’re almost done.”

Mel perks up at the sound of his name and reaches for the phone.

“Give me that,” she says playfully, taking it from you. “Jayce, we’ve been over this—your input doesn’t count unless you actually help with something.”

As Mel steps into the back to argue with her fiancé, you sit back in the chair, momentarily tuning out the sound of her voice. Your eyes wander around the shop, landing on the bundles of flowers waiting to be arranged, the sunlight filtering in through the windows, and the stillness of this place.

You absently twirl the pen in your hand, your mind drifting for a moment. It’s easy to stay busy here, to focus on what’s in front of you instead of the ache you don’t like to name.

“Jayce insists we keep his cousins together,” Mel said with a playful roll of her eyes as she returned to you. “I love him, but the man doesn’t understand how chaotic that side of the family is.”

“Maybe put them near the bar. That way they won’t bother anyone too much,” you suggested, earning a grateful laugh from Mel.

“Alright, I think we’ve almost got it,” she said, standing up to pour herself a glass of water.

Left alone for a moment, you leaned over the chart, eyes scanning the names to double-check the placements. Your gaze moved quickly at first, recognizing some familiar names and skimming unfamiliar ones, until it landed on something—towards the end of the list—that made your breath hitch.

Violet Lanes.

It was there, clear as day—her name printed neatly on a delicate little card, tucked beside a few other names at one of the smaller tables. Your hands stilled, hovering over the paper as a wave of something sharp and overwhelming crashed over you.

“Hey, you okay?” Mel’s voice pulled you back to the present.

You swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

“Yeah, I just—” You glanced down at the name again, your fingers brushing against the edge of the paper. “I’m fine.”

Mel’s eyes softened as she walked over, leaning over your shoulder. She followed your gaze to the card and let out a quiet sigh.

“I was going to tell you,” she said gently. “Jayce invited her. You know how they’ve been since high school. They’ve been in touch for a while, I guess. He didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

You nodded again, but the tightness in your chest didn’t ease.

“It’s fine,” you murmured, though the words felt hollow.

Mel reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“If it’s too much, I can figure something out,” she offered. “She hasn’t even confirmed with us yet… She’s probably so busy anyway.”

You shook your head, forcing a small smile. “No, it’s… it’s your wedding. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry, babe.”

“Mel, really. It’s okay,” you threw on one of the best fake smiles you could give. “It just caught me off guard, is all.”

Mel studies you for a moment, her gaze lingering on your face. “If you don’t want her there, I can tell Jayce—”

You cut her off with a quick shake of your head. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I promise.”

The words taste bitter on your tongue, but you push through it. The last thing you want is for Mel to feel guilty, or worse, pitying you.

She doesn’t seem convinced, but she nods anyway, going back to arranging the seating chart. You know she’s trying to keep things light, to keep you from feeling weighed down by whatever’s hanging in the air. And maybe you’re fooling yourself into thinking you’re not still carrying it.

But the truth is, you don’t know what to do with the ghost of her, or your love for her, lingering between everything you do.

“Hey,” Mel says after a beat, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Want to grab a coffee after we finish here? We could use a break.”

You nod, grateful for the distraction. “That sounds good.”

Glancing at the seating chart again, your finger rests on the name that’s still too familiar.

series masterlist | next chapter (coming soon)

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[lyxchen]

Okay my hopes for Charley/Yuri are actually so fucking high because I just need them to be a thing!!! Something good, something sweet, something happy!! I feel like this could be a second chance for a willex type relationship and man (gn) for my own happiness I personally need them to be what Netflix took away from us with willex. I need them to kiss and I need them to be happy and I need them to have an unproblematic and beautiful relationship that's filled with so much love and care for each other <33

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Ur Johnny alphabet… I ate it up. Pls tell me you’re planning on dropping the other half or even a nsfw alphabet??? Your characterization was so good!!!

SFW (O-Z) Alphabet -- Johnny Storm 🔥| Marvel Headcanon

Note to anon📨: So glad you enjoyed my A-N for Johnny! I have not done O-Z in a long time so I hope this is up to par 💌 Also I've never done a NSFW one but I'm highly considering doing it for Johnny and other maverl characters 👀 Hope you like this!! ❤️

Link to my Marvel masterlist 💌 A-N for Johnny here

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Considering Johnny is in the spotlight thanks to his superhero status, he might be a little reserved when you first start seeing each other. And beneath his dorky, charming nature, he's quite shy when it comes to expressing his feelings to someone he really liked. With you, you make it easy for him to be open and reveal things he otherwise would keep to himself that even Johnny was surprised at first. He didn't open his can of worms immediately, as he didn't want to spew his guts and have it backfire, but little by little with each date Jonny revealed himself to you. And each time, you fell more and more in love with him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With the Godly levels of heat in his veins, you'd think Johnny would be a short fuse--and maybe he was when he was younger. But as he got older he learned the importance of being patient and not letting anger get to him. Snapping over something that is an easy fix would not be helpful in the long run. Of course being in a stress-induced career field--like saving the world--there are times where Johnny's patience wears thin. He hides it well which he prides himself on whenever someone else decides to let their fuse blow.

In your relationship, Johnny never leads with anger when a situation arises. He cares about you so much and would hate to unintentionally hurt you because he let his emotions get to him. When something bothers one of you, you communicate and talk it out. He's really the most patient man you've been with.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Please, this man is a walking encyclopedia. He knows you better than you know you. Reed may have the IQ of a genius with a photographic memory, but Johnny does not forget a single thing you tell him. He remembers the embarrassing stories from your high school days. Who was the first celebrity posted on your walls. What movie you can watch over and over again and never tire. The song that reminds you of a late summer day when the sun sets over the horizon.

"Johnny where did you get this?" "That old antique shop off the corner of 57th street. The one we went to last month." "You remembered that? We were only there for maybe ten minutes." "Well I remember you picking this up with that look you always have when you want something. I had to make sure you had it."

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Oh gosh he can't pick one. There's too many--the day you met, your first date, your first kiss. When he said he loved you for the first time--he can go on and on. But if he had to choose a single moment in your relationship that is his favorite it had to be the night of the Baxter Gala. You were 10 minutes late, dressed to the nines, in a satin gown that had his mouth drooling and head spin. You two got a little tipsy, danced until your feet hurt, gossiped about the pretentious executives in attendance from the bar and laughed under the stars when you snuck away to the terrace to get away from the fancy ordeal.

"Baby, have I mentioned how mesmerizing you look tonight?" "Once or twice, but it doesn't hurt to hear it again, pretty boy." "Call me that again, and we're going to have to leave this party early."

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

This man is a superhero, it is in his nature to be protective. Even if there is no present threat Johnny is on high alert. In public gatherings he's always got a close eye on you and sometimes will have a protective hand on your waist when conversing with people. He's also not one to keep his mouth shut if someone were to insult you. Johnny's pulling out all the witty comebacks to mentally and emotionally fuck up the person who dared hurt you. And you're not afraid to throw hands either. There have been times where Johnny is the one having to hold you back from breaking a douchebag's nose for threatening your man. (He finds it super hot).

Now say you happen to be in the crossfire when an adversary of the Fantastic Four makes an appearance. Johnny is exhausting all his energy into getting you the fuck out of there. Practically losing his mind while trying to also remain calm as to not freak you out further. "Okay, you're gonna hold onto me and you're not gonna let go. Okay?" "Okay--wait-wait-wait! Are you going to light up?! Johnny--is it even safe!" "We're about to find out. Just don't let go--close your eyes if you need." "Oh my God."

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Johnny does not do anything half-assed. He's pulling out all the stops to give you the best dates, the best anniversaries, the best gifts. He's making even the simplest tasks special. Like putting the right amount of sugar and cream in your tea/coffee. Or helping you take out the rollers in your hair so you can focus on finishing your makeup. Anything, no matter how little, Johnny is putting 110 and even more percent.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He bites his nail when he's anxious. It's been a bad habit of his since he was a kid and he does his best to stop but sometimes the nerves get so bad he doesn't realize he's doing it. When it gets to that you'll gently take his hand in yours and keep it in your lap, letting your own fingers draw patterns on his palm. He'll also forget to turn off the lights when he's in a hurry to leave in the morning and you have to drag yourself out of bed to do it yourself.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He tries to hide it but you've caught him checking himself out in the mirror. Smoothing out his hair, adjusting his clothes. He knows he looks good and who can blame him really. When you do catch Johnny doing it you'll tease him with a light pat to his ass while saying, "Who are you trying to impress, blondie?" to which he'll catch you by the waist and unleash an attack of kisses along your neck, biting your earlobe while whispering, "the love of my life, that's who." Then of course when you two are headed to events and he stops one last time in the mirror you can't help but yell, "You're hot!! Now let's go before we never make it this thing."

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Johnny would be a mess without you. He can survive a couple days when he's on a mission or you're having to leave the city for work, but he'll be miserable. He's counting down the hours until you're together again and he's so pouty that Sue, Reed, or Ben is having to be like, "You'll see them soon, Johnny. Now we need you to focus because otherwise we're going to have more problems than what we want."

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Not many people know this, but Johnny loves to dance. Whether it's in the comfort of your home, at a gala/benefit, or at a jazz club, Johnny loves to hold you in his arms and sway you to the beat of the music. He'll put on a record, pull you from the couch and you'll spend hours exchanging soft kisses while letting your bodies move together in a gentle rhythm. And when the vibes are a more upbeat, Johnny knows how to get down with the Twist and Jive.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Something Johnny cannot stand is being lied to or having secrets kept from him. Whether it's in a relationship or having to deal with work, Johnny expects 100% trust and will have it be a deal-breaker. He hates when the team tries to keep certain things from him, and he'd hate for his partner to do the same--not matter how small it is. If they can't trust him, how can they expect him to trust them?

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

This man does not know how to keep still when he's asleep. He tosses and turns and will wake up with half the covers off. Sometimes he'll be curled up to your side or literally on top of you. At least some part of his body has to be touching you. Your leg on his, your pinkies interlaced, or his hand just above your ass. Sometimes it can be a little overwhelming--especially in the summertime since he's so damn hot--but at least he doesn't snore.

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

I’d Burn The World

Cho SangWoo x reader

Masterlist <- comment here to be added to the Taglist

Tw: smoking, gun (no death, though murder is implied), brief moment where reader is groped by other men

You had known Sang Woo as your dad’s best bud. Completely ignoring how he didn’t bother to look at you or how he simply just didn’t acknowledge your presence. Quite frankly, you would think he hated you. But oh, if he saw the glint in your eye as you looked at him, or your wide smile. He’d see you were so good for him.

You began studying law in your first year of university. Always studying, your head was always in the books. You had grown since your little crush on Sang Woo a few years back. You now focused on sex with easy boys… you weren’t a slut, but you enjoy a good friend with benefits. You came home on a Soring break holiday. 2 weeks of sun and small town city boys for you to play with.

“Heya dad” you kiss his cheek as you enter the kitchen. He smiled at you. “I’m heading off to the store, need anything?”

“No. But say hello to Sang Woo, he’s sitting at the table” you stopped in your tracks.

“Why’s he here?” You ask abruptly. Your dad’s eyes meeting yours quickly.

“He’s staying for the next couple of days, his apartment is getting plumbing maintenance done on it” Gi-Hun said. “And actually bring me a pack of cigarettes”

“Mkay” you walk through the kitchen and into the dining room. You saw Sang Woo sitting at table, an unlit cigarette sitting between his teeth. “Mr. Cho” you spoke bowing.

“(Y/n), we’ve been over this, you can call me Sang Woo” he said coldly. He eyes you as you bowed, obviously looking at your cleavage. You mouth an ‘okay’ and leave. You walk happily into the store grabbing 2 packs of cigarettes and a lighter before leaving. You noticed two men standing outside, staring at you as you walked out.

“Hey cutie” he whistled. You ignored it, walking quickly past them. They began to follow you to your apartment, as you sped up in pace so did they. “Hey! Didn’t they ever teach you some manners?” You broke out into a full sprint, running now. You turned your street, somehow narrowly avoiding their out reached hands. High school track sure as hell paid off.

You looked for your apartment, hoping to see one of the men outside, you didn’t. You decided to run for the door hoping it was open. You reach the steps before they managed to grab you. Feeling you up on the street.

“Oh nice set of tits” one of them said, ripping your shirt.

“Let me go!” You shouted. Sang woo, who was inside heard your voice, immediately standing up and walking towards the commotion. Adjusting his glasses as he did so. “I said “fucking let me go”” you kicked back, hitting a guy in his knee.

“Fucking bitch” he grunted.

“Didn’t you hear her?” Sang Woos voice thundered from the top of the stairs. The movements stopped as you all looked at him. “She said let her go. Now do it”

“Mind your own, dickwad” one of the men spat.

“Yeah besides there’s two of us and one of you, what’re you gonna do about it?” He snarled as his hand continued moving around your body, looking for an easy entrance into your shorts as you squirmed. Sang woo rolled his eyes as he pulled a gun from his waist, cocking it back and pointing it at the man’s head.

“Seriously?” He sighed, as the man holding you froze. “I said let her go now, or I’ll paint the sidewalk with your brains.” The men slowly released their grips on you, letting you wiggle free so you could hide behind Sang woo, your small hand resting on his waist. The men turned and walked away, keeping their heads low.

“Thank you, Sang Woo” you said quietly as you turned and went into the apartment. He followed behind you, resetting his gun and clicking the safety back on as he did.

You sat in your bed until dinner, only coming out to eat and you returned to your room. Sang woos eyes not leaving you as you ate, hiding your feelings from your dad, who was happily chatting about the sports teams.

You sat in your room. Your torn shirt tossed in the corner of your room as you sat in just your bra and shorts. You had pulled off the other shirt that you had hastily put on for dinner off just to double check and make sure there were no wounds.

But now, your mind blank, your body in shock. Hearing a soft knock on your door, you quickly pulled an oversized shirt above your head.

“Come in” you said softly. Sang Woos slim figure shadowed the floor. “Oh, it’s you”

“Are you okay?” He asked, kneeling in front of you. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.” He placed a hand on your knee. His eyes piercing yours, you finally felt like he saw you.

“I’m not sure what I am” you say barely audible above a whisper. “I’m scared?”

“It’s okay to be scared, it’s okay to not know what you are.” He spoke gently, “you experienced something traumatic and I pulled a gun”

“Where was my dad?” Was all you asked.

“He was on a phone call, the bank called. He was in his room. I didn’t say anything to him yet.” Sang woo responded. “If you want me to I will”

“No. He doesn’t need to know his little girl just went through that” you say shakily.

“(Y/n), I will carry that burden” he said. A fire lighting in you. You moved to kiss him. The heat of the moment wrapped around you. He kissed you back, standing up and crawling to towering over you. His tie dangling low around his neck as his top shirt buttons were undone.

“I want you to carry me instead” you whisper between kisses. he pulled me into his arms, your lips crashing together in a fierce kiss. The world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the intensity of your shared passion. His hands roamed over your body, setting your skin ablaze with every touch.

As you broke apart for a moment to catch your breath, Sang Woo's eyes burned with an inner fire. "I want you," he whispered, his voice husky with need. "I want all of you." You smiled, your heart soaring at his words.

"You have me," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled you back into his arms, your bodies entwining as you moved towards the bed. You rolled through your soft sheets together, your lips still locked in a passionate kiss. As you lay together on the bed, Sang Woo's body pressed against yours, his eyes locked onto your own with an intense gaze. His hands roamed over your soft skin, sending shivers down your spine as he touched every inch of you that he could. You felt his erection pressing against your thigh, hard and insistent.

Without a word, he reached down and grasped your hips, pulling you closer to him. You felt his cock press against your entrance, and then he was sliding inside you, filling you completely. You gasped at the sensation, your body arching up to meet his.

As he began to move, his hips thrusting back and forth, you felt yourself getting lost in the rhythm of your lovemaking. His cock stroked deep inside you, hitting every sensitive spot and sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

Sang Woo's eyes never left yours as he fucked you, his gaze burning with intensity. You could see the desire and passion there, and it only added to your own arousal. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he pounded into you.

You felt yourself building towards a climax, your body tensing up as Sang Woo's cock stroked deeper and deeper inside you. He was fucking you with a fierce abandon, his movements wild and uncontrolled. You loved every minute of it.

As you came closer to the edge, Sang Woo's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming shorter and more intense. You could feel his own climax building, his cock swelling inside your pussy as he prepared to come.

Sang Woo's body stiffened as he came inside you, releasing a low groan that sent shivers down your spine His cock pulsed with each spasm filling you with warmth. As you lay there together your bodies still entwined, your breathing slowed.

"I may not say it, (y/n)" he whispered, his voice filled with conviction as he pulled you closer, "but I'd burn the world for you if you asked me to." His words sent shivers down your spine as he continued to gaze into your eyes. Attaching his lips to yours once more.

“I’d burn the world for you (y/n)” he repeated again between kisses. “Even if it meant burning my own body to make you happy.” You smiled, stroking his face gently. Your clothes lay abandoned and forgotten on the floor. You stood up, grabbing his shirt off the floor, his eyes watching as you did. A satisfied smile playing on his lips as his 3 sizes to big shirt danced around you.

“Kitchen and bathroom, want anything?” You ask standing at the threshold of your bedroom door. He smirked.

“You to get back in bed with me” he said slyly. You roll your eyes and make your trek as Sang woo laid in your bed. Staring up at your ceiling before smelling the familiar scent of a burning cigarette. Within a few moments you returned with soda and cigarettes.

“Back in bed” you grin.

“And it’s where you’re staying” he tickled you, your giggles softly echoing through the room.

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[overnightheartbeats]

Maybe he agreed, maybe he didn't. Laurel was trying to be hopeful and positive at the thought of the ship being smart, but realistically? Not quite. There was a saying somewhere, about doing the same things and expecting different results. But, they were different people now, weren't they? Slightly different maybe? Watching his lips turn upward with the mention of small talk made her cheeks glow just a smidge brighter. Was he thinking of their early days in school, skipping class and getting to know each other in his car. Her inability to be casual with small talk begging them to just jump in with direct questions. Something she was lucky he indulged her in. Come to think of it, a lot of their story ended with some version of luck.

"I didn't really want to ask either," she admitted, leaning against him. And, sure, she was the more outspoken one about their feelings, rarely shying away from those conversations. However, the thought of bringing up the topic, after all she had put them through, terrified her. "I just...I'm not really sure. I guess I didn't want to go to this stupid Dan date if you and I...well, if we were dancing around anything. You know the whole, ruining something before it even begins."

"Agreed," she said with a resigned sigh. He was right. Nothing and everything has changed, it was difficult to not feel futile. "I suppose the real question is, if it's worth trying." For her? Who sucked at giving up, yes it was worth it. He was worth it. Always. The need to feel him against her was bursting at the seams, her smile growing as she felt his warm hands on her cheeks.

Resting on his lap was security and comfort she had missed. Laurel's nerves were still at an all-time high, even thinking of having this conversation, but his arm around her waist was a good sign they were headed in a positive direction. "I'd like that, we probably still have a lot to learn about each other." Beyond their physical attraction which was clearly intact, she couldn't ignore the amount of years that had passed between them. How much they had changed or remained the same. It was the latter that frightened her, how much had remained the same.

"Okay, old man," she teased in between laughs, shaking her head at his comment. She supposed he was not entirely wrong. They were no longer the 'kids'. "Yes though, I do believe they call it dating." For someone who had avoided everything remotely related to dating, Laurel felt her heart thumping against her chest just with his mention of the word. A mix of anticipation and hopefulness at the thought of this becoming a reality for them. Perhaps it wasn't commitment she feared, just commitment with someone who wasn't him. One slow nod to seal the deal, "I'm okay if you're okay. Slow and dating, we can work with that." It wasn't official, but it was more than she ever thought was possible. And, truly she couldn't ask for more. As long as he knew that she was all in. "And, that means I can tell Dan to piss off." Laurel was curious about the case he had mentioned, the robbery that had hit the news. If he was already in the loop, they were probably planning something big to catch them. A taskforce or something of the sort, but now she was just letting her mind run free. "The only bummer is not hearing about that case, he lets me read those files early, just to pick my brain or whatever." She was not curious enough to join dinner with the man. "But, I'm sure I'll read about it eventually. Enough Dan talk though. Look at us being productive during dinner."

A light chuckle left his lips as she commented about the ship being smart. He had the thought that maybe the ship was the exact opposite. Maybe it was stupid and naive for wanting to sail back into the same waters, but he didn't dare voice as much, not wanting to ruin the decent moment they had been able to create. Instead, Pat nodded in agreement at her sentiment.

His lips quirked upward again when she mentioned how she'd never been good at small talk. Pat could still remember one of the first times before she'd actually agreed to go out with him, them skipping class, sitting in his car and she'd turned to him with such confidence and questioned "What are you about Pat O'Morhan?" It had been a slice straight through small talk and he'd loved that about her, even then.

He watched as she took a second drink from her glass, and he followed suit, finishing his and pushing it away slightly, to give his hands something to focus on, though he was grateful when she spoke again, and he couldn't stop the slight chuckle that fell from his lips at the clear surprise in her tone. "Yeah, well, I wasn't gonna ask." he admitted with a sheepish grin. Sure, he'd been an outright criminal, hell, still was, put in very dangerous situations over and over again, but when it came to feelings, and vulnerability, Laurel was the brave one of the two of them.

"It does, doesn't it. Probably because nothing and everything has changed." he answered, because that's exactly how it felt to him all at the same time. the joy in the one questioned word was infectious and a smile spread over his features instantly. Though, he didn't have the opportunity to answer as she was up and closing any distance between them, her hands finding his cheeks and her lips meeting his. Pat pushed his chair back slightly, his hands finding her cheeks as he returned her kiss.

Had she not pulled away, he would've happily pulled her right onto his lap, though even as she started speaking, she didn't move away from him, and his smile grew as the speed of her words increased. "You're good." He nodded as she spoke, and after she trailed off, he took her hand in his and did pull her into a sitting position on his lap, his free arm moving to wrap around her waist, as his other hand released hers in favor of moving to cup her cheek. "We can take it slow if you'd like." he agreed, knowing it probably wasn't the smartest idea to jump right back into whatever they'd had, especially when he was holding what might be considered more secrets now than he had been then. Yet, the pull and attraction and love he felt for Laurel meant he was aching to do exactly that.

A light chuckle left the man as he tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "I know I've been out of touch a while, but I think the kids still call it dating." he teased, his smirk returning as he looked up at her. "I uh, I'd be okay with calling it that if you wanted." he offered. That didn't exactly mean they were boyfriend and girlfriend, right? Still sans titles, but at least it was something to ensure they both knew that the other was right there and invested, and god damn it if he wasn't whole heartedly invested.

[yelenabelovasbxtch]

Hoop Dreams

a/n: Took a hiatus but @yelenaslyubov inspired me to come back and write a story !! I hope you enjoy. Submit something good in my requests and maybe I'll do it...👀

Jock Kate Bishop X f!reader

Word Count: 3158

Warnings: Smut ! kinda homoerotic friendship vibes to start. 18+

Summary: Everyone except you and Kate can see you are both very clearly in love with one another.

If anybody knew what it was like to be in love with your best friend and everyone but you knew it, it was you. On the outside, to basically anyone who looked at the two of you, you were unequivocally in love. To you, she was your best friend, someone you’d do anything for, anytime, anywhere and did she make you feel like you were on the top of the world every time you saw her? Yeah maybe. But she’s your best friend. 

You and Kate met a little over 2 years ago and while you were often crossing paths before that, you never seemed to directly make contact. Until one day you had a conversation with her and from there on it was like you were making up any excuse imaginable to bump into her again. That probably should’ve been your first sign that you had a crush but at the time you just thought you finally found someone you clicked so well with. After a few more convos here and there you finally decided to find her on Instagram and one DM later the rest was history. You guys have talked every day since then. Kate played on the basketball team at your college, you worked on the game day operations team as floor director for that team. It’s honestly surprising that it took 2 years at the school for your paths to cross. It was usually your favourite part of your week getting to watch Kate hoop. She was by far the best player on your team averaging 28 points per game. As floor director you get to be in charge of how things happen and making sure they all run smoothly such as player intros, halftime contests and post game interviews. So you tried your best to watch her play as much as you could but sometimes you get caught up doing bigger responsibilities that get poured on your plate. 

Today, you were up in the broadcast booth where the cameras and commentators were running up a last minute message request to read out at the end of the fourth quarter. One of your other close friends Yelena worked one of the broadcast cameras. Yelena has been a long time friend, and one of those people that are outside of yours and Kate’s friendship who clearly see what you two can’t. 

“Hey Lena, how’s the game going from up here.” You say after climbing 3 flights of stairs to get to her. 

“Pretty good, your girl is just crossed someone to hit a bank 3” she says with a wink. 

You roll your eyes at her comment but couldn’t help but smile after watching the replay on the video board. 

“Looks like she’s going for a new season high” she says as the number next to Kate’s name goes up to 36. 

“Whole lotta game left, maybe career high.” You replied as you saw the minutes wind down in the 3rd. 

“Do you have anywhere else to run to?” Yelena asked. 

“Not right now”

“Sit and stay for a minute with me then I’m lonely sometimes up here.” She says with her goofy ass grin. 

You smile and shake your head as you pull up a chair next to her. Kate hits a buzzer beater middy to finish the 3rd and you’re smiling ear to ear. 

“Look at you y/n”

“What?”

“Your stupid grin.”

You just stare at her pissed off as she laughs. 

“Come on- when are you going to admit that the air is thick and the tension is there every single time you guys hang out.” 

“Lena it’s just not like that, we’re just friends. Besides, I don’t even know if she likes girls, we’re close but she’s only ever really mentioned men since I met her.”

“Y/n c'mon you can’t be that nice at basketball and not be gay.” She said with a laugh. “We all know Paige Bueckers and Azzi aren’t foolin’ anyone.”

“Uh huh”

“Either way y/n/n, I see the way she scans the arena for you when she’s on the bench.”

“Well if that’s true, then I better get down there so she can see me can’t I.” You say in a snarky tone. 

“Leaving me for your girlfriend, typical.” She says jokingly. 

“She’s not my girlfriend Belova.”

“Yeah whatever, I just know that in 2 minutes when that clock winds down to zero you’re the first person she’s looking for.”

“Guess we’ll see” you say and shrug. 

You made it back down the floor level with 30 seconds left on the clock. As time winds down, her teammate inbounds the ball to her as she slowly takes it up the court and lets the time fall off. They were already up by 18 at this point and Kate had a career game with 48 points. 

You’re walking down past the courtside seats as the buzzer goes off and she sees you from the other end of the court. The two of your bodies relax as your pupils dilate at the sight of one another. You both walk together with haste and you give her the biggest, sweatiest hug. 

“Congrats on your new career high Kate” you say to her as she holds you tighter in her arms. 

“Thanks y/l/n. Hit that bow & arrow celly just for you tonight.” She says jokingly with a wink. 

Kate’s teammates come rushing over and empty their Gatorade bottles over her head as they all jump celebrating her new record. The media quickly rushes in and you lose sight of her as they pull her aside for the post game interview. 

You see her motion one second to the media as they’re putting the headset on her.

“Y/n! Y/n!” She says calling over to you, “don’t leave, imma come find you after this.”

You softly smile and nod your head at her and go start listening to how your crew is doing on the walkies. Post game can get a little hectic so it’s not the end of the world if you need to lock in for a second and finish your game day duties. 

The two of you were taking sneaky glances at one another while you were both working. You loved watching her bask in all her success with her team and the fans. She loved watching you just do what you're great at too. Her hitting a career high was nothing compared to the dopamine she knew she was going to feel celebrating it with you tonight. 

Kate finished up her interviews and you watched as she tossed her towel over her shoulder and walked over to you collecting papers at the scoring table. 

“Here” Kate says, opening her hand to you. 

“What?”

“Let me carry those for you.”

“Kate you just played a whole game, I think I can manage a few papers on my own.”

Kate rolled her eyes and extended her hand again, putting emphasis on it this time. 

You gave her an “are you serious” look and knew she wasn’t going to give up so you smacked them down in her hand. 

“Ow papercut!” She says “haha kidding”

You’re shaking your head with a smile on your face. She’s the goofiest person you know but it is one of her most adorable traits. 

Kate walks with you back to the main office to put the papers away and like a golden retriever, she is immediately intrigued by everything surrounding her. 

“Wowwww what’s this!!” She said pointing at about 50 different things. Most people would get annoyed with someone asking 101 questions but with her you could do it forever. It's part of what makes you guys such good…friends. 

You went to put away your walkies and ear pieces but the basket the extra cases go in was on a High shelf. You kept jumping trying to grab it but your finger tips could just barely graze the bottom of the box. Kate saw you struggling and came over to help. You were on your tippy toes when all of a sudden she was right next to you, towering over you grabbing the basket. You were looking right up at her, nearly a couple inches from her face as she looked down at you. 

clears throat “thanks” you say. 

“What are tall friends for!” Kate says in a super excited voice. For a second there, Yelena got in your head. But Kate clearly not seeing the same thing to you just said that there is nothing there between you two and you were clearly right. 

“Don’t you need to go shower”

“What do I smell or something y/l/n?” She said with this stupid cocky smirk on her face. 

“Yes. Like ass - go shower” 

Kate’s smile just drops off her face as she lunges towards you and wraps her arms around you. 

“Ew Kate stop!!” You were saying as she was laughing wrapping her sweaty arms around you. “You didn’t seem to mind earlier, what’s the problem now?”

“Earlier I was impressed with your new career high. Now it’s old news”

“Wowwwwww” she says with her mouth wide open “guess I’ll just have to drop 50 for you next week to love me again” 

“Make it 55” you said with a wink. 

“Done.”

“You did look good out there today though seriously.”

“Is that all I am to you y/n? A piece of meat?” She says sarcastically with a fake gasp. 

“Yeah basically”

“Wow okay well then how does this make you feel?” She asks and flex’s her arms. 

“Oh- so very aroused” you say overly sarcastic

“Thought so.” Kate replied as you both giggled at each other. 

“Sooo since I helped you carry all those super heavy papers are you going to help me grab my stuff from the bench and bring it back to the locker room?”

You stare at her and roll your eyes as you reluctantly say “I guess so”

At this point the two of you have been doing crap in the office for so long that almost everyone has cleared out from the stadium. You head back out there to grab her warm up shirt and other items as you walk back through the tunnel to the change room. She opens the door as you stand outside. 

“Come on, what are you doing?”

“I’m allowed back there?”

“Yes y/n, besides nobody’s even here they all showered and left already.”

“Okay if you say so…”

You walked back with her as she threw her stuff in her stall. 

“I’m going to shower, you gonna wait for me?”

“Sure yeah”

“Okay cool, feel free to hang out in my stall I’ll be back in a bit.”

You sat there looking at all of the stuff people had in their stalls. Kate didn’t have too much, it was honestly fairly organized, you were surprised. She had a couple of pairs of shoes, water bottles, extra shorts and shirts and at the very back of it, a polaroid of you taped for her to see before every gameday. The thought of her looking at you before she steps on the court every time made you blush a little. 

“Y/n can you come here!” You hear yelling from the showers. 

You walk over and ask her what’s up. 

“Can you grab me some extra soap? This one ran out. It should be in the closet to the right of you”

“Sure” you reply and go grab some. You walked over to her shower stall and pushed the curtain aside just enough for your arm to squeeze through without seeing anything. “Here you go”

“Thanks babe” she says as she grabs it. Her hand grazes yours and you can’t help but all of a sudden feel a little nervous, chills running down your spine. Fuck Yelena. She majorly got in your head. Did you have feelings for Kate? You don’t want to ruin your friendship and she clearly doesn’t like you like that so stop thinking like that!

“I’ll um be back in the locker area” you say with a slight voice crack

“Ok!”

You’re scrolling TikTok to try to take your mind off of whatever the hell that was that just happened when Kate walks out into the changeroom, wrapped in a towel with wet hair. You cross your legs and clear your throat before saying anything.

“You’ve been acting weird today, is everything alright?” She asks.

“Yeahhh, I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Women problems?” She says looking over at you with a smirk and a laugh as she reaches to grab her clothing. Her silver chain dangling down as she bends back up.

“What? Pffft. No. Why would you say that?”

“I’m kidding…I know you can’t have woman problems when you’re too busy being in love with me.”

You feel a lump in your throat develop and Kate lets out a laugh insinuating she was kidding but then gives you a weird face when it wasn’t immediately reciprocated. 

Kate leaves for a second and comes back around the corner wearing only a sports bra and a clean pair of basketball shorts.

“You need to relax y/l/n. You are seriously tense, let me help.” she says as she comes behind you and starts rubbing your shoulders.

The slight touch had a pool developing in your pants. Not good, so not good. 

She is working your shoulders and neck and starts rubbing down your chest a little, you let out a little whimper hoping to god she didn’t notice. “That feel good?” She whispered in your ear, you could feel her warm breath making all the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

“Mhmm” was all you could get out. You could feel her smirk from behind. 

All of a sudden you felt her lips ever so slightly graze your neck. And then again, and again as she left a trail of kisses down to your shoulder. You let out another moan at the feeling that you have been craving since the day you two met and you just didn’t know it. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this.” she whispers. 

Kate spins you around so you’re facing her. Her soft lips connect with yours as her hand comes up to your neck and runs through your hair pulling your face in tight to hers. 

“Me too” you gasp out in between kisses.

She pulls you up not breaking your make out session and gently slams you against the lockers. You could feel her tugging at the hem of your shirt wanting it off. You pull it over your head so quickly as Kate immediately starts kissing down your chest. You feel her left hand go around your back and in one quick motion unhook your bra perfectly as it falls to the floor. 

“Wow, you are gorgeous.” she says as she takes you all in. “I have been dreaming about this forever.”

“Oh yeah?” You reply in a flirtatious tone. “What happens in your dreams?”

“Well pretty much exactly this…and then maybe something else…” She says as her finger tips graze the inside of your waistband. Seeking your approval with a simple look, you quickly nod your head yes. 

Kate’s hand quickly sinks into your pants, as she slowly starts to rub between your lips. She manages to find the perfect spot to make you squirm from her touch. 

“That feel good, baby?”

“Y-yes, s-so good.”

You feel Kate push a finger in and your knees nearly buckled from under you. You try to hold yourself up as soft moans escape your lips. Kate kissing you as her fingers make you feel unspeakable things. It felt like Kate knew your body like it was her 100th time doing this. She just knew all the right places to rub and the speed that you needed her at. 

She puts another finger in you and you moan her name loud enough that anyone outside of the changeroom could hear. “Shhhh baby” she says. 

Her hand thrusting into you as she leaves small hickies on your neck for anyone to see. 

“Kate- I’m getting so close.” You mumble out.

“All I want. Is to feel you cum all over my fingers.” she says in the most insanely seductive tone.

You were pushed to your edge the way she was speaking in your ear and released all over her. Her thrusts slowing down as your body starts to give out; she catches you and brings you over to her stall to sit down. 

You catch your breath for a second as you look over to see her throwing on her shirt. Fuck she looked hot in the sports bra. The way her arms looked and how toned she was. 

“Leaving already?” You ask her.

“No baby, just getting my things together so we can go back to my apartment and I can treat you properly.”

“That wasn’t proper?” You say with a laugh.

“y/n, you have no idea the things I’m going to make you feel tonight.”

Fuck that confidence was hot. She was hot. How are you just now discovering this after being friends with her for this long. 

You just stare at her in awe of that performance and what she just said.

“Here’s the plan baby, we are going to go back to my place and hop in the shower together. I'm going to make you cum in the shower this time, so hard that when I take you for a nice dinner afterwards, walking is going to be a challenge. Then we are going to come back to my apartment and I am going to kiss every inch of you, tell you how beautiful you are and hold you until you fall asleep in my arms.”

You just look at her and nod your head in approval. 

“Let’s go love.” she says, extending her hand to help you up. She hands you your clothing as the two of you gather all your stuff to head out.

Kate grabs your hand and holds it tight as you walk out of the changeroom to go back to her place. As soon as you turn the corner to leave, there stands Yelena looking at the two of you walk out of the changeroom disheveled and holding hands. 

“I KNEW IT” she screamed. 

You were practically hiding in your shirt from her as Kate just smirked and looked at you and looked back at Yelena. 

“It’s always been her, what can I say?” Kate says to Lena.

“Be safe you two, I don’t want to be an aunt just yet.” She says as she walks away.

You both laugh and head out. Looking over at Kate still catching glimpses of one another when the other isn’t looking. Fuck she really is the one. 

Taglist: @yelenaslyubov @youreatotalposer @jeyramarie @flosbelova @bridgecitybrad @justthis-stuff @chloe7076 @ailenepuff @ravenclawbitch426 @mellowladyangel @amcg0605-blog @kassies-take @yelenaswife1996 @wandanatchick @lilroachsworld @inluvwithfictionalwomen @x666hours @natashaswife4125 @onetruwhore @karmasgxrl @hopelesslyfallenninlove @setsuna1415 @swiftdazer @imobsessedwithmilfss @madamevirgo @louisprettybab @splatalia-jumpanova @jediluka @t00manyfand0ms @oohlala666 @kates-abs-slay@scmg11@uselessgaez @katebishops-simp @d0ingitwithpassi0n @wuwu96 @ar23northlondon-forever

[akawifeyy]

LEMONADE | fic (DR3)

description: as much as he would miss the high-stakes lifestyle of formula 1, daniel ricciardo is ready to start fresh. and the perfect start seems to be in his hometown, where a little girl is running a lemonade stand.

tropes: meet-cute, happy ending, lemonade stand au!, single mum!reader

face claim: none

trigger warnings: mature content (!!), swearing

| note: i love dr3 soooo much y'all, i hope i did him justice 🫶

It all started with the lemonade stand.

A young girl, probably five or six years old, with curly brown braids tied up in pink ribbons, was standing by its side. She stood at attention like a miniature soldier, her eyes watching the street for potential customers.

The hand-painted sign swinging from the top read "Leia's Lemonade Stand" in blocky yellow writing, and a giant beaker of the refreshment was perched on the counter.

Daniel was intrigued. He patted his pockets, looking for any spare change, and found a wad of bills. "Hey," he greeted the little girl, who looked up at him with owlishly large eyes. "I'd like to buy some lemonade? One glass, please."

She beamed, dashing behind the counter to hand him a cool glass filled with sugary yellow liquid. "That'll be two dollars!"

"Here you go," Daniel said, counting out the money and leaving her some extra change, handing it to her. "Thank you for your service."

As Daniel was turning to leave, you walked up to the girl, who was your carbon copy, just a decade or two younger. You were her mother, Daniel assumed. "What do we say, Leia?" you asked, a proud smile evident on your face.

"Thank you and you're welcome!" Leia chirped.

Daniel took a sip of the cool refreshment, sighing in contentment. "This is delicious stuff. Did she make it herself?" he asked you.

"I helped out a bit, but most of this was done herself."

He outstretched his hand. "I'm Daniel."

"Y/N," you replied, taking it. "I haven't seen you around before. Did you just move here?"

Daniel shook his head, trying to formulate an answer. "I just moved back from, uh...out of the country."

"Oh?" you inquired. "I'm jealous, I've never lived outside of Perth. My parents were born here, I was born here, and now Leia was born here. It's tradition, I guess."

He laughed. "Perth is a nice place. The rest of the world is overrated."

"At least you've experienced it," you griped.

Daniel huffed out a breath, reminiscing on his years of fast-paced travel. City after city, country after country. He never stayed in one place for long. "Yeah, I suppose so. Have you really never been outside of Perth?"

You lowered your head, self-conscious. "I mean, I've visited Melbourne for a weekend girl's trip, but my life has been pretty busy ever since I had Leia. And her father...doesn't help out."

Daniel's attention sparked at the mention of Leia's father. "Is he around?"

You twisted your lips in consternation. "He's alive, but he skipped town shortly after Leia was born. Said he was destined for greater things, or some shitty statement like that. I don't remember, and frankly, I do not care. Leia and I get on just fine."

Daniel grinned. "I can tell." He set the glass back down on the counter, and Leia picked it up, putting it under the stand to be washed and cleaned later. "Thanks for the lemonade. Keep up the good work, hm?" he said to her, and she gave him two enthusiastic thumbs-up.

"I'll see you around?" you asked, hopefully in a casual tone.

Daniel nodded, giving you a cheesy wink. "Of course."

Two days later

The doorbell rung half past noon, and you checked the peephole to see who was there. Daniel. He was shifting nervously, wringing his hands out. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" you greeted him, stepping aside so he could enter the house.

"I was wondering if I could get another glass of the lemonade? Leia's done an amazing job with it."

You sighed sorrowfully. "We're all out, sorry. Leia has just started school again, so we haven't continued the business. Maybe we'll make some more during the weekend?"

Daniel pouted. "That blows. I've been looking for a way to talk to you again."

"Sorry." You shrugged one shoulder, and then you realized what Daniel had said. "Pardon me, what did you say?"

Daniel's eyes widened, his face reddening with embarrassment. "Uh, I was hoping to chat with you a bit? If that's alright? I don't want to intrude."

You shook your head, leading him into the living room. A variety of Leia's toys were scattered about, and you bent down to pick them up and move them out of the way. "It's OK, don't worry. My job's remote, so I don't have to leave or anything. Not until two, when Leia comes home from school."

"Great," Daniel said, sitting down on the couch beside you. "I've been bored out of my mind since I've come back to Perth."

You swallowed, not exactly sure of how to respond. "Yeah? Is your past haunting you or something?"

Daniel chuckled. "Not exactly. I'm just used to a lot of hustle-and-bustle, and Perth...isn't really delivering on that."

"Where did you work?" you asked.

He fidgeted with his hands. "Er...I used to be a Formula One driver. I know, wild, but yeah. DR3." He laughed again, but this time it was dry and full of resentment.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Formula One? My sister's obsessed with it. Wow, that's really cool."

"Yeah, it is. But they moved on to better talent, and now I'm back here." He slouched down, avoiding your gaze.

You gently nudged his shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you've returned and that we've met."

He gave you a wan half-smile.

For another hour, you two chatted away, talking about your past, about Leia, and about your hobbies. You told him about your Star Wars obsession (aka the reason why you'd chosen the name Leia for your daughter), showing him the vintage R2D2 toy you kept on your bookshelf. In return, he told you about how he used to go fishing with his parents in Lake Monger and about some of his F1 exploits.

Eventually, the alarm you set to keep track of when to pick Leia up went off, marking the end of your conversation. "I've got to go," you apologized.

"It's no problem." Daniel waved a hand, brushing you off. "Here's my number in case you want to keep in touch?" He wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it to you.

"Thanks," you said, flustered.

"See you around, Y/N," he said as he stepped out the front door.

Text messages between Daniel and Y/N (Takes place a week to two months after their first meeting)

Sydney, Australia (Two months later)

"Come on, Leia," you urged your daughter as you led her through a thick crowd of people in the airport. "Don't let go of my hand."

Daniel was in front, leading you towards the exit, where a glossy crimson Ferrari was parked. "Here we go." He opened the door for you, sliding beside you and helping to buckle Leia in.

You smiled at him. "Thanks so much for inviting us."

"No problem, darling."

The pet name sent a curl of heat through your core, and you looked out the window so you wouldn't have to respond. The view was stunning: metallic skyscrapers, a bustling city center. You couldn't believe that this was what you were missing out on your whole life.

About twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of a sleek modern hotel. You saw Daniel's mum wave at you, and swallowed roughly. You prayed that she would like you.

"Leia, be nice," you chastised her before you disembarked from the car. "Use your manners."

Leia bobbed her head up and down. "I know, Mum."

When you walked over, Daniel's mum immediately struck up a conversation with you, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I'm Grace!" she introduced herself. "And this must be little Leia." She bent down to shake Leia's hand. "You look just like her."

"Thanks," you replied. "It's nice to meet you."

Grace put her hand on her heart. "Danny's told me all about you. I'm happy to see that you're exactly as I hoped."

Your gaze whipped to Daniel, who turned even redder. One more shade, and he could pass for a bearded tomato. "Really?"

"Yep!" Grace clapped Daniel on the back. "He loves you."

You blinked, but didn't blurt anything out. "We should probably head inside."

Daniel nodded fervently. "I agree."

That night

"You want to explain to me what your mum told me?" you probed Daniel, crossing your arms over your chest.

Daniel covered his face with his hands. "Fuck, Y/N, I'm sorry. She's not a good secret keeper."

"Are you saying that she was lying?"

His eyes peeked out from behind his palms. "Do you want me to say no?"

"Tell me the truth," you scolded.

Daniel sighed and took a step closer to you. "She wasn't. Ever since I saw you at that lemonade stand, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. You're funny, and strong, and independent. I want to prove to you that I won't be like the other one. I'm here to stay."

Without a second's worth of hesitation, you tugged on his shirt collar, pulling him down to your height, and kissed him. He moaned softly, his arms snaking around your waist and caging you against the wall. "Fuck, Y/N."

The kiss became more passionate as you tangled your fingers in Daniel's brown curls, and his own found the swell of your breasts underneath your shirt. "You're so perfect," he murmured softly. "Can I?"

You nodded, at a loss for words. Daniel lifted your shirt over your head, revealing the lacy pink bra you were wearing. "Fuck, I'm going to come in my pants like a schoolboy right now. My God, you're a fucking work of art."

You unbuttoned his shirt and loosened the waistband of his pants, letting them fall to the floor. Daniel picked you up, placing you on the bed. "The door's locked," he assured you when you opened your mouth. "If we're quiet, Leia won't know anything."

"Good," you whispered. "I don't want to traumatize her."

He laughed, and kissed you again on the collarbone. Carefully, he placed your hands above your head and said, "I want to have sex with you. Is that OK?"

"You don't have to ask, Daniel," you rasped.

Daniel shook his head. "Yes, I do. Consent is not a laughing matter, darling."

You expelled a breath in faux-annoyance, and he continued his mission. One slow thrust, and he was in you, filling your pussy and making you groan with pleasure. "Daniel..."

"Does it hurt?" he asked worriedly. "I'll go slower."

You twisted your head to look at him. "No, it's fine. Just...not used to this. It's been a while."

He pecked you on the forehead, his arms caressing the curves of your skin. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

He drove into you, the movements firm and sure. Soon, you felt the tidal wave of pleasure build up in you like an insistent hum. "Daniel, I'm going to..." you trailed off, the sentence ending with another moan.

Daniel kissed you on the temple, the touch exactly what you needed to tumble over the edge. "Let go for me, darling."

And so you did, the orgasm rippling over you and making you shudder with satisfaction.

He pulled out a moment later, his own orgasm succeeding yours, and he flopped down beside you, one arm wresting you closer to him. "You're stunning."

"When I'm all fucked out?" you teased.

Daniel played with a loose strand of your hair, his eyes bright with happiness. "Yep."

"You're so silly, Daniel," you poked fun at him, tapping his nose twice.

He flicked your nose, and stated the very obvious fact, "But you adore me."

Three weeks later

Daniel clutched the bouquet of tulips in his hand, suddenly nervous. It wasn't the first time he had taken you out on a date. Hell, it wasn't even the second time. Yet each and every time, he was terrified.

You were perfect.

And he was...he was Daniel, the former F1 driver for four teams.

"Thanks for picking me up," you told him as he ushered you to his car. "I really appreciate it."

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. "No problem, darling."

You sat down, and then readjusted your position, feeling something poking your back. It was a box.

"Not a ring," he promised when he saw your expression. "I wouldn't have you accidentally sit on your engagement ring, darling."

You scowled at him, but popped open the top. A beautiful ruby necklace gleamed up at you, and you let out a gasp.

"It's my mother's. She wanted you to have it," Daniel told you.

"Wow, Daniel. This is...breath-taking." You hugged him.

"Just like you," he flirted, and you rolled your eyes. "It's the truth."

You extricated the necklace from the box and clipped it around your neck. "How does it look?"

"Perfect." He kissed you on the lips, one hand nestled on the crook of your jaw. "And all mine."

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[thollandsgirl2013]

Hi could you do a tom x reader one where the reader brings tom over to meet her family and it doesn't go over well because they think that since he's a celebrity that he's just using the reader

Hello! It's really short. Hope you still enjoy.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

𝐔𝐧𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞

Parings → Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings → none

Summary → Meeting your parents for the first time doesn't go well.

(gif not mine)

You knew this was going to be a disaster the moment Tom walked through the door.

Your mom’s polite but stiff smile. Your dad’s too-long stare. Your older brother, Jake, crossing his arms and giving Tom the same look he used to give your high school dates—the “don’t mess with my sister” glare.

Tom, bless his heart, was trying. He had brought a bottle of wine for your parents, greeted them with a respectful handshake, and even complimented your mom’s cooking. But none of it seemed to be working.

"So, Tom," your dad started, cutting into his food, "how serious is this thing with my daughter?"

You tensed, fork halfway to your mouth. Tom, ever the gentleman, swallowed his bite and answered honestly.

"Very serious, sir," he said, voice steady. "I love her."

Your mom’s hand twitched around her glass of water. Your brother scoffed.

"Love her, huh?" Jake muttered. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe. You're a celebrity. You could have anyone. Why her?"

Your stomach sank. "Jake—"

"No, it’s okay," Tom said, placing a reassuring hand on your knee under the table. His expression was calm, but you could see the slight tension in his jaw.

"I get it," he continued, looking directly at Jake. "You think I’m with her for… what? A publicity stunt? A good time?"

"Wouldn’t be the first time a Hollywood guy did that," your dad added gruffly.

You turned to him in disbelief. "Dad—"

"No, let’s be honest here," he said. "You’re young, famous, rich. You live in a world that’s completely different from ours. I just don’t see how someone like you would want something real with my daughter."

Silence stretched across the table. Your appetite was gone.

Tom exhaled slowly, setting his fork down. When he looked at your family again, there was no charm, no Hollywood smile—just raw honesty.

"You’re right," he admitted. "I do live in a different world. And I won’t pretend it’s not crazy sometimes. But none of that changes how I feel about her." His hand tightened around yours. "I love her. Not because she’s some ‘normal’ escape from fame, not because it looks good, but because she’s her. She makes me happy. She keeps me grounded. And I want to be with her for as long as she’ll have me."

Your mom’s expression softened, but your dad still looked skeptical. Jake, however, was watching Tom closely, like he was weighing his words.

"You say that now," Jake said, "but what happens when things get hard? When your job takes you away for months? When tabloids start making up rumors? What then?"

Tom didn’t hesitate. "Then I fight for her. Just like I’m doing right now."

For the first time that evening, Jake didn’t have a comeback.

The room was quiet, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Then, finally, your dad sighed, setting his knife down.

"We’ll see," he said. "Time will tell if you mean what you say."

It wasn’t an acceptance, but it wasn’t a rejection either. It was something.

You squeezed Tom’s hand under the table, silently telling him you were proud of him. He squeezed back, a small, knowing smile playing at his lips.

No, tonight hadn’t been perfect. But you had no doubt—Tom wasn’t going anywhere.

And one day, your family would see that too.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

[docolives]

"Oh God, thanks," she let out a huffing laugh as he mentioned the twentieth, the tops of her cheeks pinkening, just the mere thought of graduating from high school twenty years ago suddenly made Livvy feel so… not quite old, but far away from the person that she had been when she had walked across that stage. "I just hope that they have it somewhere with really, really good drinks," because if they were going to have to hang out with all of their high school classmates, they were going to need some good wine. She was sure of that. "See, you understand where I'm coming from. I could even accept the fishing pictures if the next picture was them cooking the fish? Sure, you can catch it, but you need to be able to feed me with it," she was laughing as she said it, but… there was some truth to it, too. "Okay. What's your request?"

"Stop it. You looked gorgeous. You still do. You'll be devastating at the 20th next year." It was a scary thought; all that time having passed. The reunion. Harder still to glaze over who wouldn't be there. He might not have bothered, except for the (subtle) desire in him to show up the rest of the class. He shook his head at Livvy's explanations. Psychology 101 for someone who'd never passed. "Well, a man in an apron never disappoints." And it had been easier when Leo was around to care for the litter box. He spun them neatly among the crowd, his feet steady. "I'll play your matchmaker. But I've got a request."

[novacorpsrecruit]

@skidspace thank you for sharing this lovely piece!!! Oh my god this is so good!!!

Context: missing scene from part 3 of this

———

Hello! I was the anon that mentioned writing an extra scene involving Trick. I ended up adding more to it as I started writing and editing. Again I’m not much of an author so I apologize for any mistakes or confusing parts but I hope you enjoy!

Thanks again for the wonderful story that inspired this

~~~~~~

Steve had to wipe his eyes before he dared to leave the bathroom.

Eddie’s letter was… a lot to take in. He’d be lying if he said the apology didn’t feel good. Hell he’s been yearning for one ever since that last night he saw Eddie.

Even so, it didn’t make that initial hurt go away. Nothing had. Not the time away, not the idea of moving on. Nothing could fill the chasm that used to be filled with Eddie’s love. To know that Eddie was hurting to? It didn’t make him feel any better.

After what Steve deemed enough time to compose himself and not look like a total wreck in front of the customers, he carefully folded the letter back into his apron and left the bathroom. He must’ve been in there longer than he thought because Trick’s booth was now empty.

Steve sighed and thought to himself, he’s still on the clock so he might as well actually do his job. And went to go clear off the table.

As he stacked the dishes and cup a with practiced ease, Steve noticed something amongst the mess. It was a napkin with the words “Rock on, Steve!” written in the corner, and crudely drawn doodle of a hand making the devil horns sign in black ink. Next to the napkin were a few crumpled bills and some change, plenty to cover the cost of Trick’s meal and a tip.

Steve felt his eyes start to well up again. Dammit, he can’t handle this much emotional whiplash in just one 5-hour shift. First Eddie’s letter and now a guy he honestly thought hated his guys was taking the time to apologize and be genuinely kind to him.

Steve set the dishes back on the table and just stared at the napkin note, but he was taken out of his spiral by a loud “Are you kidding me?!” coming from the front of the diner followed by the sound of someone slapping glass.

He peaked around the corner of the booth only to see none other than Trick staring at the ancient pinball machine they kept in the waiting area like it had just insulted his mother.

Steve however, couldn’t help but laugh, which caused Trick to finally break eye contact with the offending contraption and whip his head around. At first, he had a nasty scowl on his face that Steve was SURE many a jock at Tricks own high school had experienced. But once he saw that it was Steve and realized the laugh wasn’t a mocking one, his scowl turned into a cheeky smirk with too much teeth showing, but was friendly nonetheless.

He turned and fully faced Steve.

“Your machine is busted, dude.” He said, slapping the glass top of the pinball machine once again.

“I don’t know man,” Steve surprised himself with how easy he found a joke tone to his words, “I’ve seen a few 10 year olds absolutely destroy the high score on that thing. I think this is just a user issue.”

“Oh fuck off.” Trick’s smile grew wider with the jest, only to be followed by someone loudly clearing their throat. Steve and Trick both turned their heads to see Jenny with her arms crossed and brows furrowed, gaze pinned on Trick.

The other man’s face fell from jovial to a harden nonchalance. Steve recognized the change all too well from when people would give Eddie a hard time in public back home. Like Eddie, the shift in Trick looked well-practiced.

Trick put his hands in the pockets of his jacket and cleared his throat, looking back at Steve once more. “I should probably get going, but uh- could I ask you something first?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Is Eddie doing okay?”

Steve felt a pit form in his stomach at the question. He really didn’t want to air out everything that happened between him and Eddie with a guy he had JUST gotten on friendly terms with.

“W-what do you mean?” He settled on.

Trick gestured up towards his face.

“It’s just that no one has seen him at a party since the night he rocked my shiiii-“ his eyes flick over to where Jenny was still glaring, “I mean, since he called me out for how we were treating you.”

“I, um,” Steve’s hand reflexively went to the letter in his apron, “I don’t really know. I haven’t seen him in…a while.”

Something in how Steve had said that must’ve tipped Trick off to the situation, even just a little. His face took on a concerned look.

“Oh. Well, if you see him or talk to him soon, can you tell him I’m sorry?”

“For what?”

“For driving him away too. Even without the whole ‘boyfriend thing’, for people like us - people like Eddie - it’s hard to find a place that will accept you for who you are, let alone make you feel welcomed. We shouldn’t have made him feel like he had to be one thing or that he had to hide an important part of his life.”

Steve was silent , standing there contemplating the potential of all that might have happened to Eddie since he walked out of their apartment and never came back. Putting the pieces he had together, it seemed that Eddie had not only punched one of his cool new metal friends for Steve’s sake, but had completely stopped hanging out with his all of his cool new metal friends after they bad mouthed Steve to Eddie’s face. Steve was always under the impression that Eddie had known about the ridicule Trick and his friends subjected him to. But he either just didn’t know the severity of it all, or he didn’t care enough to come to Steve’s defense.

Steve was starting to think that was wrong.

Why didn’t Eddie say any of this in his letter? Would it have made the situation better? Would Steve have believed him if he hasn’t just had this whole eye opening apology and conversation with Trick?

The thought threatened to tip his emotions over the edge again so he shook his head a bit, desperate to clear his thoughts

He finally replied, “I’ll tell him.”

Some of Trick’s toothy smile retuned to his face. “Thanks Steve.” He then threw up the devil horns with his right hand and turned to leave.

As he walked away, Trick turned his head one last time to say “I get it if you don’t wanna come back, but I hope I’ll see you around.”

The bell above the door jingled as it was opened, then closed, and then Trick was gone.

-

Steve had to take a few deep breathes before he went back and finished clearing out the booth. Upon returning to behind the counter, Jenny slid up to him with her arms crossed again.

“God, I thought he’d never leave. That guy didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”

Steve didn’t mean to, but a bitter tone slips into his voice.

“No, Jenny. He didn’t.”

Jenny huffed.

“Good, cuz you never know with those types. They always look like they’re gonna-“

“Just because he looks mean and scary doesn’t mean that’s how he really is! You can’t just judge people like that Jenny!” Steve snapped and instantly felt bad for it. The wide-eyed look Jenny was giving him only made it worse.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“No, you’re right. I mean, yeah the yelling was a little rude, but I shouldn’t judge someone just by how they look or dress,” Jenny shrugged, “I mean just look at Rob. He dresses like a dorky pencil pusher who wouldn’t hurt a fly but you and I both know he packs the meanest left hook when the day drunks get too handsy.”

Steve couldn’t help but let out a loud belly laugh at that. God, he really does love working a shift with Jenny.

-

Steve normally took the bus back to Robin’s dorm after work, but the weather was nice enough and his head was full enough that he decided he needed the walk. There were just too many things that happened today he had to work through.

First there was Eddie’s letter and apology, then Trick’s appearance and apology. Those two things alone were enough for one day. But there was also something else. Something Trick said combine with how he acted, how others had acted towards him, that Steve couldn’t get out of his mind.

“For people like Eddie, it’s hard to find a place that accepts you for who you are, let alone makes you feel welcomed.”

Now Steve knew that most of the crowds he ran with back in Hawkins couldn’t be counted as good friends. But he never entered a group of people and felt unwelcomed. He didn’t have people scoff at him or shuffle away when he entered a room. The only time he felt truly ostracized in high school was the time between Billy Hargrove showing up and meeting Robin after graduation. And even then he may not have been welcomed in his old social circles, but when he walked into a room his presence was at least accepted. After graduation most people he knew stopped caring about the petty high school bullshit anyway, save for Billy himself and a select few of his crownies. He had real friends by then. And eventually, he had Eddie.

Eddie who had always been the one that people would stare at like he was going to sacrifice their dogs to Satan at any minute.

Eddie who knew that there wasn’t a place for outcasts like him, so he MADE a place where other kids could feel safe.

Steve thought back on that first day walking into school after Billy had fully deposed him from his title of King Steve. He had felt hundreds of eyes on him as he walked down the hallway, but at the same time he had never felt more alone.

Steve now wondered if that was the feeling Eddie had dealt with his whole life while living in Hawkins.

The idea made him feel…different about Eddie’s actions these past couple months.

Of course, those actions still caused hurt. And after many late-night tearful discussions with Robin, Steve knew he didn’t deserve to be treated that way, that he had deserved better.

But…

But maybe Eddie hadn’t done it because he was ashamed of Steve, or because he didn’t care about how Steve felt.

Maybe…maybe Eddie just couldn’t believe he had found a place that welcomed him because of who he was, not despite it.

He had told Steve as much about their own relationship after they started officially dating. Eddie joked that he couldn’t believe his interests and quirks were what Steve called positives instead of dealbreakers. Steve had laughed along with him at the time. Now the thought broke his heart.

Steve was tired of things breaking his heart. He was tired of licking his wounds, and he was tired of hiding in Robin’s dorm.

Steve had changed his mind about walking. He located the nearest bus stop.

After all, his and Eddie’s apartment was on the other side of town.

Steve had a letter he needed to respond to in person.

[quandledlngle69]

"FINE, KEEP MAKING CONVERSATION...I GUESS."

☆ CONTENT: Your a troubled student, kicked out of your prestigious private school for beating one of your bully's. Your settled into your horrible local high school where your fighting almost everyday, yet when your reputation pokes at a certain persons bubble, he takes interest in you. ☆ GENRE/THEMES/WARNING: Trouble maker reader, reader gets bullied in the first half, mentions of snapping, fighting, beating, hair pulling, reader being nonchalant, Shidou being interested in reader, reader having a sick mother, reader is female, reader is implied to have braids, mentions of past discrimiation and racism, classism, implying that Shidou and the reader are both black, Shidou also being a problem student and fighting. ☆ PAIRING: Trouble!Maker!Reader x Trouble!MakerShidou ☆ W.C. 1.8K

It starts with insults, and it ends with fists.

That's the way of thinking you subconsciously drilled into your head from middle school. You realised quickly that having good grades or being kind just wasn’t enough to smoothly get through the once prestigious private school you attended. 

Bullying was something you absorbed, that swirled like a disgusting parasite around you. Maybe it was something about you not having the latest phone, the newest shoes–or it was a micro aggressive comment about the deep colour of your skin or your hair being the opposite of pin straight. You didn’t ever talk back or defend yourself, hoping the less reactions given, the less satisfaction would be gained and a next sorry target would be found. Unfortunately, that never happened.

You remember the day you finally snapped.

It was a regular tuesday, and although the past few months had been nothing but dread, you felt eerily calm, like you subconsciously knew what was going to happen and had already accepted it. It was sunny for such a day in march, and you appreciated the breeze, considering it was rare to be interrupted during your lunch breaks.

Today was not one of those days.

It was the same group most of the time, a handful of girls and two boys. A cycle usually occurred, it was first grabbing your attention, then insults, maybe some physical contact, knocking some stuff out of your hands, more insults, and repeat. 

You didn’t wait until the insult part.

When your mind decides to black out on you while beating on someone, one finds it quite hard to remember all the details. It was the sound of your backpack dropping to the ground at first, then the slightly panicked tone of insults, questioning what you were doing, and then your first impact of knuckles to flesh. You're sure you and the girl both tripped on each other's feet at some point, scrapping your knees, you both hit the ground accidentally tackling her. You remember how the strands of her blonde hair that had found its way to wrap itself around your fingers felt–coarse. Ears ringing, you ignored her high pitched banshee shrieks of pain while you pulled on the strands, hard. You felt them snap at the scalp. You could feel how with each collision of your closed fist to the soft tissues of her face, her sobbing grew more and more heavy. It took the two boys of the group to pry you off her. 

Later you sat in the principal's office, the extra chair for one of your guardians empty. It always was when you got in trouble. You knew it would add stress on your already ill mother. The surface skin of your knuckles were raw and the scratches on your knee began to sting as the adrenaline faded away, the soothing cream the nurse had applied weak against the pain.

A broken nose, one chipped tooth, two black eyes, and a few tension caused bald spots. 

You were told–no, screamed at by the beaten girl's mother, that you were lucky the police weren’t called, and the only consequence you were getting was that you would be expelled. 

You should've been angry, maybe distraught at the fact you were being kicked out for defending yourself, of being kicked out of the most prestigious school in the district, especially since you were on a scholarship. But–nothing. There was a sense of indifference that surrounded you like a protective bubble, even as you were screamed at, even as you were given a formal letter of expulsion you were supposed to give to your mother, even as you were escorted off school grounds.

It almost scared you, how you really didn’t care anymore.

It had been four years since that event.

Now you were in some shitty local school that you honestly could give less of a dime about. 

It had been another cycle of detentions, fights, wounds, stings, sores, aches and a whole calypso of sorts. And they couldn’t expel you, with you having nowhere else to go.

Again, you were in after school detention for slamming a locker door shut on a girl's head. Not your fault she decided it would be a perfectly plausible idea to spit on your sneakers. 

Here you are now. It was a rundown classroom in the back of the school, like the staff was trying to hide the bad kids away to avoid staining the school's decent reputation. Not like you cared. The desks had symbols carved out with sharp objects and permanent sharpies, graffiti on the walls, floors and ceiling and a foul smell coming from somewhere you couldn’t pinpoint. You had been in there so many times to the point you had gotten comfortable enough to just nap for the hour you were stuck there. It was the usual placement of connecting your head to the desk, turning away, and ignoring the others that were usually there for the same reasons just like you. 

But you also did it to ignore the fact there was always an intense stare piercing the side of your head as soon as you put your head on the table. But you let it roll off you, after all, staring towards you was just another familiar wave of negativity. The guy was notoriously known for his fights and appearance, sure, but it's not like you truly cared who he was or the feared reputation he built for himself.

For the first time, Shidou is intrigued. He watches as your slumped form in the corner back of the detention room, not talking, not even looking at anyone. No arrogance, no puffed chest—just you, head on the desk, tapping your fingers in a rhythm against the wooden leg of the desk like you were waiting for something.

So he tests you. A few direct comments out loud, a smirk, a challenge. And when you finally look at him—dark eyes, unreadable expression—he knows you're different just from the look in your eyes.

And for the first time, Shidou may have found himself someone who might just be as reckless as him.

The clock ticks slowly, each second dragging like a slow–burning cigarette.

Shidou Ryusei slouches in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, his lip still split from the fight that landed him here. He smirks at the memory—some senior had mouthed off, and Shidou, never one to back down, tracked him down and made sure a knuckle sandwich was given–something like that, anyway. You don't acknowledge his poking words, just pulling the drawstrings of your hoodie up further (an item of clothing that didn’t comply with the school rules either), shoving your hands into your pockets. From where he sits, Shidou can see the bruises along your knuckles, a fresh scrape along your cheekbone.

He knew you got into fights, but seeing the damage up close? It makes something in him spark. 

The room is silent except for the scribbling of a teacher grading papers at the front desk. Shidou drums his fingers on his desk, gaze flicking between the clock and you–who hasn’t looked up once.

“Who was it?” he finally asks, his eyes fixed on the clock, but you know he’s addressing you.

You don’t move. Don’t even react.

Shidou leans back, stretching his legs out, the wooden chair creaking beneath him. “Who’d you fight?” he tries again, smirking slightly. “Gotta be bad if they stuck you in here with me.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“You talk too much.”

Your voice is quiet, but sharp enough to cut. Shidou raises a brow, interested. Most people flinch or get defensive when he pushes. You didn't.

“I’m just curious,” he says, tilting his head towards your general direction. “A girl like you throwing punches? Gotta be a juicy story. Right?”

This time, you do glance at him—just for a second. Dark eyes, unreadable, sizing him up like he’s just another fight waiting to happen. 

“No story,” you mutter bitterly. “Just a bad day.”

Shidou studies you, almost like how a tiger looks at its prey, almost like he wasn’t deterred by the bad mood radiating off you. “Yeah? Guess we both had one.” He gestures vaguely to his busted lip, almost smug. “Wasn’t really my fault, though. The guy was fucking begging for it.”

You huff, barely a laugh, more like an exhale of disbelief. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

He leans in slightly, elbows on the desk, and you're able to see the quiet–but explosive glow of his pink eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

His question hits you like a light slap to the face, managing to surprise you. For the first time, something flickers in your eyes—something he recognizes. A mix of exhaustion and defiance. 

You didn’t answer. Instead, you shifted in your seat, the metal legs groaning under your weight. Tilting your head toward him, your eyes met his, tense. “Why do you care?”

Both of your expressions mirrored each other, nonchalant, unreadable.

There was another long beat of silence as your eyes darted around his face, his blonde hair with pink tips that was definitely the reason he had a ‘delinquent’ title, you think. His nails are sloppily painted black, and you could imagine how his punches hurt like a bitch with how many rings adorned his fingers. His blazer was nowhere to be found, his jumper sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His sneakers were scruffy, his buttoned collar undone.

Shidou himself seemed as if he was deep in thought looking at you himself, as well as considering your words. He doesn’t know the answer yet. Maybe because you're different. Maybe because you're quiet, a silent but deadly type. Maybe it’s because you're the same as him, a foreign presence in an unfamiliar environment. Maybe it’s because rather than seeing a sea of pin straight black hair, it was the neat ocean of mahogany brown braids that skimmed your lower back. Maybe it was because of the fresh manicured set of nails that you got every other week, something he observed more than the normal person should. Or maybe because, for the first time, someone isn’t playing his game, and you peaked his rare curiosity.

He gives a lopsided grin, tilting his chair back until the front legs hovered above the floor. “I don’t. Just making conversation.”

You don't respond at first, ripping your eyes away from the intense staring competition–just turning your gaze back to the window, as if he’s already forgotten. But Shidou? He’s still watching you, still curious.

And it takes a lot to get his attention. 

He focused on your glossy pout, and how it seemed to soften slightly with your next words.

“Fine. Keep making conversation…i guess.”

When you meant keep the conversation going, you never implied for him to thrust his desk right next to yours, almost bumping shoulders with you. He ignored the weak yelling of the teacher telling him to go back to his place. You were amused by his actions, not even telling him to back off like you would to anyone else.

Maybe you’ll let him talk your ear off a bit more.

Quandaledlngle69 © 2025

[thealogie]

Hi Thea! Did you see that Scarlett filed a civil lawsuit against Neil Gaiman (https://storage.courtlistener.com/recap/gov.uscourts.wiwd.53958/gov.uscourts.wiwd.53958.2.0.pdf)? I'm honestly a bit confused about why she would go to a civil court in Wisconsin over events that happened in New Zealand. If you don't mind, could you explain why? It's totally fine if not, I just thought you might have an idea as a US lawyer.

I did see! Link to the complaint here. Incredibly brave of Scarlett given how some of these high profile suits have played out. I know her lawyer by reputation and they're known to be a good firm, so I hope she gets some justice.

Your question on Wisconsin...you've really hit on a great first year law school question. People can be sued in any state where they have so much activity and presence that it would be fair for them to get sued there. The logic is: if you take advantage of all the benefits of living in a particular state or running your business from there, it's also fair for you to be sued in that state. In this case, Gaiman can clearly be sued in New York, where he lives full time. But Scarlett's lawyers are saying that neil gaiman owns property in Wisconsin so he can be sued there and that Palmer's residence is unclear so they're suing in Wisconsin for now.

This is kind of flimsy and I'm puzzled by this choice of theirs. My best guess is that they either found a judge they really wanted or maybe Wisconsin law is better than New York law on negligence/battery (just a guess..I don't know Wisconsin negligence/battery law...) or they think a Wisconsin jury will be better for them than a New York one (I don't think that's true...). You better bet the first thing Gaiman's lawyers will do is say the exact same thing you did: Wisconsin has nothing to do with these claims and this case should be dismissed. Most likely outcome: the case will be transferred to New York.

[heavencasteel420]

#they need to woobify him #and on some level they it doesn't work with him being a jock or popular (via jonathanbyersphd)

It's the lack of imagination that gets me with these fans! There's so much angst that can be mined from being popular and/or a student athlete, and other fans mine a lot of it! Fake friends, intra-friend-group bullying, grim sports injuries, body image stuff, etc. They're putting a hat on a hat by downplaying his popularity.

What is with people trying to minimize Steve’s status as a popular athlete? If you’re not into jocks or popular guys, there are other characters.

[wosospacegirl]

New crush - Arsenal teen! r

Summary: Leah and Beth find out why Y/n has been late to training. New crush on the way?

Warnings: just a small argument between Leah and Y/n and a lot of teasing.

Word count: 2.3k

Masterlist here

..

It was weird to be a college student and a professional football player, Y/n wouldn't say she got the best of both worlds, but the worst.

Y/n was 17 years old and had the opportunity to attend college in the UK. It was a bit weird at first to have more of a specialized and focused education than the usual high school thing, but she was getting used to it day by day. It was her last year of school, and she couldn’t be happier. She wanted to focus on football and maybe get some minor qualification in any area she was slightly interested in, just so she could have some type of formal education in case she had a career-ending injury or something.

One of the weird things between attending school and playing football was that Y/n would usually arrive at training with her uniform and school bag in hand, which was enough for the team girls to make fun of her.

“Look at our schoolgirl,” Beth said teasingly. “I hope you study to be someone in life, unlike us.”

“You guys have career goals, plus half of you have degrees too,” Y/n said smiling as she walked with Beth to the locker rooms. “Anyways, how was the gym today?”

Y/n went to her locker and got her kit for today, taking off her shirt and standing on her training top, which she had put on before school, so it was faster to change from her school uniform to her Arsenal training kit.

“It was all right,” Beth said, scrolling through her phone. “We did a lot of Strength– squats, forward lunges and all that. Good thing you were busy with… a math test? I guess.”

Y/n was now wearing the full Arsenal kit, her school bag resting in its usual spot on the locker’s floor. “I didn’t have any test today, but don’t tell Renée that, she asked if I could get out of school an hour early and I said no because I told her I had this grammar test.” Y/n winked at Beth.

“And why didn’t you wanna get here an hour earlier?” Beth questioned. “Last month Renée had to beg you to go to school because the Headmistress called the Arsenal’s office saying you were missing school to be here with us.” 

Y/n had messed up.

The thing was… Y/n had met Stella. Stella was an exchange student from Northern Europe and had joined Y/n’s college three weeks ago. Stella was beautiful and super cool. They had lunch together and by the end of the last period, Y/n and Stella would just sit on the grass behind the school and talk for 20 minutes or so, before Y/n had to take the cab to get to training.

When Y/n was talking to Stella, she felt warm inside, giggly, and of course a little shy. Y/n had never felt this before. She had experienced crushes, but they were more like little obsessions, especially with actresses, singers, and well, other footballers.

She always knew she didn’t like boys, but falling for a girl was different and new and exciting. So yeah, maybe Y/n didn’t feel like coming to the training right away because she wanted to share French kisses with a pretty Danish girl.

“Well, I’m just valuing my education, Bethany,” Y/n murmured, looking down to tie her boots.

“You weren’t focusing on your education when you barely passed your business exam last week, and Leah had to beg Renée to let you play against Chelsea,” Beth retorted, narrowing her eyes. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing. Why are you being annoying?” Y/n rolled her eyes, full teenage mode activated. Something that annoyed her was how her teammates were always up in her business just because they saw her as a younger sister. 

God forbid the day she went to a club and didn’t tell anyone. Even Alessia was mad at her. OKAY, yeah, she got a fake ID and went to a very well-known adult bar with her friends, but her teammates weren’t her parents. They didn’t need to care that much.

“Who’s being annoying?” Leah asked, coming out of nowhere.

“Beth.”

“Y/n.”

Y/n and Beth said at the same time.

“She is hiding something from us, Leah,” Beth accused, pointing at Y/n.

“I’m not hiding anything, mate,” Y/n said, sounding more defensive than she would like.

Leah was normally on Y/n’s side. She didn’t get involved in Y/n's personal life that much– the captain just made sure she was well-fed, healthy, and doing okay in school.

“Well, I noticed that these past few weeks you have been a little late than usual,” Leah mumbled. “I just thought you were using those 30 minutes to go to the library or something.

Before Y/n could defend herself Beth was already talking.

“Library, Leah? Do you think teenagers go to the library?” It was Beth’s time to roll her eyes.

“Hey, I used to go to the library,” Leah argued

“Yeah, to snog girls behind the bookshelves,” Beth said.

Leah looked at Beth as if the other blonde was wasting her time.

“Have you been using drugs, Y/n?” Leah asked nonchalantly.

“What? No–”

“Are you sneaking around? Going to places you shouldn't?” The captain asked as Beth locked eyes with Y/n, hoping to catch her in a lie.

“Where do you think I would go in 30 minutes? Wales?” Y/n argued, losing her patience. She just wanted to kick a ball around, but here she was being interrogated.

“Are you having sex? I was 17 once and I just wanna make sure you are being saf–”

“Leah, man, stop!” Y/n screamed, slamming her locker door shut. “I don’t need any sex talk, especially from you two,” Y/n added, pointing at the older woman.

“Hey, don’t slam the door– we don’t do that here,” Leah said, using her captain's voice. “We are just trying to talk to you.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe I don’t wanna share everything with the team? Just because I’m 17 doesn’t mean you all need to know where I am and what I’m doing 24/7.”

“You know very well how chill I am about you, Y/n but at the end of the day, you’re still a kid, and me, Beth and the other girls have to make sure you are okay,” Leah shouted. “No, you guys don’t have to make sure I’m okay because I know how to take care of myself!” Y/n cried, frustrated. 

The locker fell dead silent for a few seconds. Leah and Y/n staring each other down.

“Okay Leah, let it go,” Beth said, finding herself in the role of mediator. “I’m sorry if I overstepped it, Y/n. I just cared about you, and honestly, I just really enjoy knowing other people’s business—especially when they are like a younger sister to me,” Beth added, with a smile.

“I’m sorry I screamed at you,” Leah said, looking up at the ceiling. 

Apologies weren't Leah’s strongest suit.

“I’m sorry I was moody and slammed the locker,” Y/n admitted, feeling a bit ashamed about the whole outburst. “It's just that-–”

The older women looked at Y/n, waiting.

“There is this… person? I guess, yeah, definitely a person, you know?” Y/n confessed. God, she would rather take a penalty than have this conversation right now.

Y/n looked at the girls as if the words she just had mumbled made any sense.

“A person?” Beth asked. “What kind of person? a boyfriend?” “Just spilled it, mate,” Leah said impatiently.

“Well, no, no boyfriend,” Y/n admitted. “But there is…Stella.”

As soon as the name Stella left Y/n’s mouth, she could feel her cheeks getting warm.

“Oh, so there is a girlfriend,” Beth exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement as Leah smirked at Y/n.

“You’ve been sneaking around with Stella after school?” Beth teased. She was enjoying herself a little too much.

“It’s not sneaking around,” Y/n rolled her eyes— again. “We just—well, we just sit behind school for a few minutes and talk a little.” She tried not to mumble again. “And that's it! No drugs, not sneaking around, no nothing.”

“You’re saying the reason you’ve been 30 minutes late to training for the past month is just to sit and chat with a girl?” Leah questioned.

“She is not just a girl, Le. She is Y/n’s girlfriend, or crush, or whatever.” Beth added.

“She is not my girlfriend, and in fact, she is leaving next week,” Y/n said, unable to hide the sadness in her voice. “She’s an exchange student, and she's going back to her country. That’s why I wanted to spend time with her. With training, matches, actual school, and media day, I only have a little of free time.” 

“Oh darling, I’m sorry to hear that,” Beth said, pulling Y/n into a hug. “And I’m sorry I teased you. You have every right to privacy, just like the rest of us have, okay? I will police myself a little more.”

“It's okay Beth. I know you mean well,” Y/n said, hugging her back.

“Okay, okay, enough hugging—let’s go back to training, I bet you are craving some time on the pitch, yeah?” Leah said, throwing an arm around Y/n’s shoulder and guiding both her and Beth towards the field.

“You know me so well, actually” Y/n smiled. Maybe, just for a few hours, she could forget that Stella was moving away.

Y/n stayed on the pitch after training, long after the other players had gone home. She wasn’t doing anything, just running around with the ball, thinking about a pretty Danish girl. Y/n was very much lost in thought she almost didn’t hear someone calling her from the other side of the pitch.

It was Leah, no longer using her training kit— probably getting ready to go home.

Y/n ran until she was next to her

“I’m already heading home, okay? I just needed a few minutes–” Y/n began explaining herself, knowing full well Leah didn’t like her staying at the facility alone at night. She shut her mouth, though, when she saw what Leah was holding in her hands.

“Those are for you,” Leah said, handing over two tickets.

Arctic Monkeys.

“What? Are you serious?” Y/n grinned, looking at the tickets, then looking back at Leah. “Why?”

“This way you can take your girlfriend to do something cool,” Leah said, feigning mockery. “It’s tomorrow, so send her a text to let her know you will be picking her up at 8 pm.”

“Let her know? I thought I was supposed to ask her out, not demand she go with me?” Y/n replied, still smiling.”

Leah rolled her eyes. “You have a long road ahead of you in the dating world”

“Shut up,” Y/n giggled.

“I can drive you two, so you don’t have to take a cab and all that,” Leah said, as if it meant nothing.

Before Leah could react, she found herself in a bear hug. “Thank you, thank you,” Y/n said, burying her head on Leah’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, all right,” Leah said, pushing her away. Not much of a hugger. “It’s my day off anyway.”

“It's not just that—you just gave me two tickets to Arctic Monkeys. I know how fast they sold out. I tried to buy them, but I couldn't, they were all gone.”

“I have my ways,” Leah smirked. “Go get your things— I’ll give you a ride home.”

“So, who were you going with, Y/n asked, changing the radio station as Leah drove.

“Going where?” Leah asked. “Stop touching it!” she swatted Y/n’s hand away.

“I hate country music!” Y/n whined, slouching back in her seat, a pout on her face.

“That’s your problem. You can buy a car next year and play all the songs you want.”

“Whatever,” Y/n mumbled. “You had a date?”

Leah glanced at Y/n. “What date? and why do you keep changing subjects so much? You look like Beth.”

Y/n picked up the tension in Leah’s voice. “Oh, so you had a date. That’s why you bought two tickets to the show.” Y/n assumed, feeling smug about finally getting some dirt on Leah. It was time for revenge. 

“There was no date, stop being annoying.”

“Oh, there was definitely a date. Your cheeks are getting red.”

“No, they are not!” Leah argued back, briefly looking in the rearview mirror to check if she was blushing. “You are being a bully, stop it.

“No.”

“I’ll tell Stella how annoying you are and then she won’t go to the concert with you,” Leah mumbled.

“She already knows how annoying I am and still wants to go with me,” Y/n teased, sticking her tongue at the captain. 

Leah rolled her eyes again before parking in front of Y/n’s apartment.

“Get out,” Leah said playfully. “Eat your dinner, don’t forget to brush your te—”

“Shut up, Leah,” Y/n said, “I’m not a kid.”

“I know you aren’t, got a girlfriend and everything,” Leah teased. “Don’t forget to ask her out, okay? Bye.”

Y/n waved as Leah took a right onto her street.

The only thing the young player could think about was how she was going to make out with Stella during an Arctic Monkeys concert.

“Damn I kinda love you, Leah,” Y/n said, looking one last time at the ticket before opening the door to her apartment.

[cherrysurf]

Try again (osamu miya x f!reader)

Chapter 5; True love never dies?

contains; angst, smoking, angst, a tad bit of fluff.

also! the note is from “to all the boys i’ve loved before” lol.

When you arrived home, you broke down. It was all too much for you; all in just a couple of hours, it went from one extreme to another.

You sluggishly walked to the bathroom, opening the door to wash off all the energy from today.

You sit in the bathtub as the hot water hits your back, thinking about Osamu.

"What a coward," came out of your mouth. As tears slowly escaped your eyes once more, this time no cries were heard—just water falling down your face from the shower and your eyes. Soon after, you stepped out of the steamy shower, feeling slightly better than before.

You now sit in your living room with freshly washed PJs and a cup of your (his) favorite tea, staring into the void; with no thoughts, no feelings, just sitting on the couch.

You get a shudder down your spine, remembering how you felt this way when you and he ended things, but now it was because you were aware of how weak he was, not because you were hurt.

Then you hear your phone buzz next to you.

“Atsumu,” it read. You let out a heavy sigh.

“Hi.” You put on a smile as you spoke, hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Hey.” A voice that wasn’t Atsumu’s, but similar to his, spoke.

“You’re not Atsumu.” You deadpanned, dropping the act.

“You can tell that easily?” Osamu sarcastically let out a forced laugh.

“Unfortunately, yes, I can. Now, why are you calling me on his phone?” A response filled with attitude was given to him.

“He’s home now and sleeping. I'm leaving; you can stop by anytime except the nights I’m going to be there.” He gave you the same attitude right back.

“Okay, sure, whatever… bitch.” You whispered the last part.

“What did you say?” he replied angrily.

“What did you hear?” you pretended to be clueless.

“I don’t know.” He huffed.

“Then I guess I will never know, huh? Anyway, I gotta go get dressed and make him some of his favorite sweets.” You swiftly hung up the phone afterward.

“BITCH ASS LIAR, except nights because I’m going to be there. OH, SHUT THE FUCK UP, OSAMU.” You yelled out in an annoyingly mocking voice as you tossed your phone onto the other couch.

You decided to collect yourself from that small outburst because letting your emotions take over wasn’t good for you. Plus, you had to start planning what to bake for Atsumu.

You loved baking things for the people you loved. Osamu was very well aware of that; after all, it was one of his favorite things about you.

You didn’t first start getting into baking until your first year of high school. Osamu was there throughout all the trials and errors of your baking history. From the salty cookies to the undercooked cake, he was there for it all. He was one of your biggest supporters throughout everything, and now it felt almost like his brother took that place in an instant.

You wonder if Osamu is feeling jealous about how you and Atsumu have gotten close again, but does it matter? Yes. Yes, it does.

Although Osamu is many things, knowing the reason why he left you makes your heart ache. Maybe calling him a coward and a bitch was just to mask the fact that you’d forgive him and try to get back with him.

Even though that ship probably sailed a long time ago. I mean, who knows what he’s up to these days? You got so mad and let your emotions take control that you have no idea how he is. Perhaps you shouldn’t try to be too harsh on him, but it is hard not to.

Suddenly, you hear the beep of the preheating oven go off, snapping you out of your drowning thoughts about Osamu.

You put the cinnamon rolls into the oven and go off to get dressed. You wear something casual since it’s just a small visit and to make sure Atsumu’s house is clean and easy for him to manage.

The drive over is quiet; today your thoughts have been so loud that it was enough to keep the radio off.

When you arrive at Atsumu's house, you shoot him a quick "I’m here" text and receive an instant reply with "doors open." You walk in, taking off your shoes.

“Tsumu, cinnamon rolls are here!” you yell throughout the quiet house.

“Bring them to my room, please,” he yells back.

You make your way towards the kitchen to pull out a plate from the cupboard so you can serve them.

“Do you need milk or anything to drink with it?” you yell once more.

“No, I have water right here,” Atsumu says.

“Kay,” you nod to yourself as you set the cinnamon roll down on the plate.

You start walking down the hall to head to Atsumu’s room. Seeing the door wide open, you let yourself in to find him with a beaming smile. You couldn’t tell if it was for you or the cinnamon rolls, but regardless, you’re just happy he’s smiling.

“Thanks for stopping by,” his hands reach out for the plate of sweets.

“Of course. Did Osamu give you food before he left?” you pull back the plate just in case he didn’t eat regular food before shoving his mouth with junk.

“Yeah, he made me onigiri. You know that’s his whole thing now,” he says, finally grabbing the plate out of your hands.

“Oh, that’s good you ate,” you say, pausing for a moment because you did not know that was his “whole thing” now.

“Yeah, there’s leftovers in the microwave if you want one. I’m sure you haven’t eaten since the hospital; that’s been like hours ago, so you should eat. Bring it back to my room so you can keep me company,” Atsumu speaks with a mouth full of gooey cinnamon rolls, which makes you laugh at the sight of him looking like a squirrel.

“Okay, I’ll go get some. I’ll be back,” you tell him as you make your way out of the room once more, down the hall and then to the kitchen.

You hesitate before opening the microwave door, and you don’t know why. Seconds later, you open it and are met with the wafting smell of cooked salmon-filled onigiri. It makes you salivate instantly.

You pull the plate out to serve yourself two because one is never enough with Osamu’s cooking. You always wanted more; I mean, who wouldn’t?

You leave the rest of the leftovers behind in the microwave. You take the plate and make your way out of the kitchen and back into Atsumu’s bedroom, where he is bedridden because of his leg.

As you step in and make your way to the edge of his bed to sit, you both now indulge in the silence of chews, being next to each other without speaking as proof of the comfortableness you two had regained, just like back in your younger years.

After 10 more minutes of silence, you collect your and Atsumu’s plates and quickly walk back into the kitchen to wash the dishes so Osamu won’t have to do anything once he comes back for his night shift to take care of Atsumu.

You walk back in to find Atsumu looking a bit on edge as he bites into the hangnail on his right thumb.

“You’re going to end up with an infection if you do that, ya know...” you speak slowly while walking back to his bed.

“Yn, there’s something you should see. Get the light gray box from underneath my bed and go outside. Just come back when you're ready.” He sets his hands down at his sides as he tosses his head back into his pillows to stare up at the ceiling.

“Uhm... okay.” You look at him weirdly before crouching down to peek under his bed to find the box there by itself. You slowly pull it out and take a look at it as you sit on the floor by his bed.

It had nothing on it that looked like a shoe box or something to store papers in. You carry it in your arms as you stand up while walking to the door, turning your back to see Atsumu still in the same position as before you went down to get the box.

You make your way out to Atsumu’s backyard, where it is quite spacious and peaceful, as if it were a zen garden.

As you sit down comfortably in the large, quiet, and comfortable chair he has, you open the box to find a card addressed to you with the date from a few years ago, a lighter, and a pack of cigarettes. Not just any old cigarettes, the ones you and Osamu had smoked back in high school up until college were the ones from college. It was so recognizable because the red lipstick-stained kiss was still on the front of the box.

As you put the lighter and cigarettes to the side to pull out the card, the back of the card says, “Light up a cigarette as you read this.” You sigh at this stupid thing but do as you're told, because maybe you would need it—I mean, who the fuck knows what this could contain?

You rip open the letter to find Osamu’s initials at the top of the page. The letter smells of the cigarettes that were in the box. It had a yellow stain due to the time it had spent in the box.

A large inhale of smoke fills your lungs as you prepare yourself for another hit to the face from Osamu’s late confession. Maybe this is payback for slapping him.

“Dear Yn,

My memory of the first time I met you. It was our sixth-grade assembly. You were sitting in the row in front of me, and your name was written on your backpack in glittering letters. Principal Kyo called you up on stage to receive an attendance reward, and your hair got caught in your chair. I helped you untangle it, and you smiled at me. My heart somersaulted in my chest. I didn’t know hearts could do that. I had no clue then that you would become who you are now. The most important person in my life. Sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am that you chose me. We’ve been through so much together. Yn, I never should have doubted that we’d get through this too, but I got scared and I hurt you, I am so sorry. Of course, you should go to the states. You should do all the things you want to do. I never want to be the guy holding you back. I want to be the one by your side. It won’t always be easy, but I would do whatever it takes to make this work.

Because that’s what you do when you love someone. Besides, when you think about it, if we’re going to be together forever, then two years of college isn’t such a big deal.”

You set the letter down at your side as tears trickle down your face; the agony that your heart, soul, mind, and body feel is worse than anything you’ve gone through. Osamu did care. He always had.

Your face falls into your shaking hands as the cigarette slowly burns in between your middle finger and index. You couldn’t see anything you didn’t want to as the words from the letter ran through your mind.

The thoughts in your brain were too much to sit and think about. Everything was moving too fast for you to comprehend after 15-20 more minutes of talking in that position you gathered the letter and everything else and placed it back into the box.

With the box under your right arm, you head back inside and walk your way into Atsumu's room with your head hung low until you reach the side of the bed he was lying on to face him. He can see everything by the look and tears on your face.

He sits up from his lying position and extends his arms out for a hug that you quickly fall into wishing they were his brothers. You softly cry once more in his embrace wondering if the pain would ever stop.

“Yn maybe my brother was a coward but he still loves you. He never stopped. He told me to give you this once you stopped by. I don't know if it’ll change anything but it’s worth a chance.” He sighs as he slowly pats your back in an attempt to comfort you.

“This changes a lot. Thank you Atsumu for being the mediator and fixor of a mess that isn’t yours,” you speak into his chest.

“Anything for the two people I love the most.” he smiles sadly.

You lift yourself off of him and wipe the rest of your tears.

“I should get going. I have a lot to think about. I’ll see you tomorrow Tsumu.” you reach for an embrace by him once more as you bid him farewell since you figured Osamu would be back in the next couple of hours.

You drove the rest of the way home numb and confused.

fucking yapperilla ahh ho rn.

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