#ceann

[ceeaann]

— The guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all?!

Pairing - Vi x Reader Summary - You’ve been crushing on the mysterious, mask-wearing clerk at your favorite record store—cool, quiet, and effortlessly charming. Determined to get closer, you come up with a plan to get his number. There’s just one problem. He’s not a he at all. Vi, your sharp-tongued, short-tempered classmate, has been keeping her double life a secret. But as you fall harder and she struggles to keep up the act, one question remains— What happens when the truth finally comes out? Content - 12.1k words, a valentine special collab with @kkoga (angst monster) , heavily inspired by tgswiiwaga, slow-burn romance, angst → confusion → self-discovery, avoidance & self-isolation, mild language, miscommunication, misgendering (unintentional), emotional distress and sexuality questioning

You first spotted him at that record store. A tiny, dimly lit shop tucked between a laundromat and a café, stacked floor to ceiling with vinyl, cassettes, and CDs. The kind of place that smelled like dust, nostalgia, and warm, worn-out wood.

And he was there—behind the counter, hood up, face half-hidden behind a mask, rifling through a stack of records like he had been living and breathing music since birth.

You could barely see his face, but a few strands of messy red-pink hair peeked out from under the hoodie. When he finally glanced up—just for a second—sharp, powder-blue eyes locked onto you before flicking away, completely uninterested.

Damn.

You weren’t usually into the quiet, mysterious types. You liked confident, showy people who could match your energy. But there was something about him—about the way he moved, the way he seemed lost in his own world—that made your heart stutter.

And just like that, you were hooked.

So, naturally, you kept coming back.

“Yo,” you greeted casually, leaning against the counter one afternoon, your acrylic nails tapping against the glass. “Got any new recommendations for me today, mystery clerk?”

He barely spared you a glance before exhaling sharply. “You again?” His voice was low, gruff—maybe even a little annoyed.

Cute.

“Duh. You’ve got the best taste,” you grinned, propping your chin on your hand. “Or are you finally gonna tell me your name so I can stop calling you ‘mystery clerk’?”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Buy something, or go home.”

Oof. Rude. But also… hot.

You tilted your head. “C’mon, can’t a girl just appreciate some good music recs?”

Another sigh. But this time, he actually moved, reaching under the counter to pull out a vinyl. “Here,” he said flatly, sliding it over to you. “You’ll like this.”

You blinked. “Oh? Finally warming up to me?”

Those powder-blue eyes flicked up, unimpressed. “You just won’t shut up otherwise.”

Your heart did a stupid little flip.

Yep. You were definitely into him.

And before you knew it, visiting that record store became part of your routine.

You weren’t even sure why you kept coming back. The mystery clerk wasn’t exactly friendly. If anything, he barely tolerated you. But there was something intriguing about him—the way he never said more than necessary, the way his powder-blue eyes flickered with something unreadable whenever you tried to pry.

You wanted to crack him open. Figure him out.

Make him look at you the way you looked at him.

So you kept pushing.

Vi tried not to react when she heard the familiar jingle of the bell. Kept her head down, shuffling through the stack of records in front of her like she hadn’t already memorized every title.

She had no reason to be nervous.

She’d been working at this shop for months. She’d dealt with all kinds of customers. Music nerds, college students, old guys trying to relive their youth.

But you?

You were different.

You were loud and bright, a walking storm of acrylic nails, glittery accessories, and the kind of confidence that made Vi’s skin itch.

And yet, for some reason, she kept coming back.

Always with that same teasing smirk, the same relentless energy, the same stupid, flirty lines that made Vi's ears burn.

And the worst part?

Vi didn’t hate it.

Which was exactly why she needed to shut this down.

You leaned onto the counter, watching as the mystery clerk sorted through records like he hadn’t just heard you enter.

The usual, then.

“hello,” you greeted, tilting your head to try and catch a glimpse of his face. “You're gonna pretend I don’t exist today, or are we finally on speaking terms?”

A sigh. Then, without looking up, he muttered, “You always exist. That’s the problem.”

You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “Wow. That’s the coldest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Still, no reaction.

Damn. Tough crowd.

You tapped your nails against the glass counter. “Sooo, what’s the deal? You got a name, or do I have to keep calling you ‘mystery clerk’?”

He exhaled through his nose. “I have a name.”

“Care to share it with the class?”

A pause. Then, dryly—

“No.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

God, he was so difficult. And yet, the more he pushed you away, the more you wanted to see what was underneath all that gruffness.

One day, you were gonna crack him.

But now, you weren’t sure when things shifted.

Maybe it was the day he let you browse through the records behind the counter, even though he definitely wasn’t supposed to.

Maybe it was the time you caught him humming along to a song playing over the speakers, and even though he noticed you staring, he didn’t stop.

Or maybe it was that night, when you showed up just before closing, soaked from the rain.

You weren’t planning to go to the shop. You were just walking home, feeling restless, when your feet carried you there anyway.

When you stepped inside, shivering and dripping onto the floor, he looked up—really looked up—for the first time in forever.

And for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw concern flicker in those powder-blue eyes.

“…You’re soaked,” he said flatly.

You sniffed. “Yeah, no shit.”

Instead of giving you his usual annoyed look, he sighed, reached behind the counter, and—

Tossed you a towel.

You blinked, catching it. “Wait, what—”

“You’re getting water everywhere,” he muttered, turning away like this wasn’t a big deal. “Dry off before the old man yells at me.”

You clutched the towel, staring at him in disbelief.

It wasn’t much. Just a small, quiet moment.

But your heart thumped all the same.

Vi cursed herself the second she tossed the towel.

Damn it. That was too nice.

Now she was gonna get attached.

The next day at school, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The way his voice sounded, low and cool. The way his hands moved when flipping through records. The way he just knew your taste in music without you even saying anything.

You sighed, resting your chin on your desk. “Ugh. I think I have a crush.”

Your friend beside you, blowing a bubble with their gum, raised a brow. “What, again? Who’s the unlucky victim this time?”

You huffed. “First of all, rude. Second, it’s this guy at the record store. He’s, like, super cool. Doesn’t talk much, but he totally has good music taste.”

Your friend snorted. “So you like him ‘cause he ignores you?”

“…Maybe.”

Before they could tease you more, the classroom door slid open, and a familiar figure strolled in.

Violet.

Vi was a known delinquent. Not the kind that skipped school completely, but the kind that barely followed any rules. Untucked uniform, tie loosened, red-pink hair a mess. She always had a band-aid or two somewhere—probably from getting into fights—and a permanent scowl on her face.

You barely paid attention to her but she looked… weirdly familiar.

You frowned, tilting your head slightly. Do I know her from somewhere?

Before you could figure it out, your friend nudged you. “So, are you gonna keep gushing about your record store crush or what?”

Oh. Right.

You shook off the thought and leaned forward with a dreamy sigh. “Okay, so he’s, like, insanely cool. He barely talks, but when he does? God. It’s like… y’know that mysterious, effortlessly hot vibe? That.”

Beside you, Vi choked on her drink.

You blinked at her. “Uh. You good?”

Vi cleared her throat aggressively, looking anywhere but at you. “Y-Yeah. Fine. Totally fine.”

You shrugged and continued, unaware of the way Vi’s entire face was burning. “Anyway, his voice? Hot. His eyes? Even hotter. He’s kinda mean, but in, like, an attractive way—”

Vi sank lower in her seat, hands gripping the hem of her blazer.

“Oh!” You clapped your hands together. “And he knows music. Like, he took one look at me and picked out the perfect album. I swear, we’ve got a connection.”

Vi shut her eyes. Oh my god, stop talking.

Your friend snickered. “Damn, you’re really down bad.”

You groaned, flopping dramatically onto the desk. “I know. But he’s just so—ugh.”

Vi pressed her fists to her burning cheeks, willing herself to disappear.

This was hell.

She was right there, sitting right next to you, and you still hadn’t realized.

And worst of all?

Now she knew exactly how much you liked her.

Sitting in class, listening to you ramble about your massive, embarrassing, painfully obvious crush—on her—and knowing you had no idea.

Vi had faced a lot of things in her life. Street fights, school suspensions, even the occasional run-in with cops.

But this?

This was worse.

She stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so hard it hurt, trying desperately to tune you out.

No luck.

“…and the way he looks at me? Like, I swear he knows I like him.”

Vi swallowed. Oh, she has no idea.

Your friend hummed. “So why don’t you just confess?”

Vi nearly had a heart attack.

Your head flopped dramatically onto your desk. “Because I don’t wanna ruin the mystery, y’know? Like, what if he’s only cool because I don’t actually know him?”

Vi’s eye twitched. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Your friend snorted. “You’re overthinking it. He’s just some random guy at a record store.”

Vi exhaled.

Yes. Exactly.

Just some random guy.

And if Vi had anything to say about it, you were gonna keep thinking that for as long as humanly possible.

Because there was no way in hell she was letting you figure this out.

This was a nightmare.

Sitting in class, listening to you ramble about your massive, embarrassing, painfully obvious crush—on her—and knowing you had no idea.

Vi had faced a lot of things in her life. Street fights, school suspensions, even the occasional run-in with cops.

But this?

This was worse.

She stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so hard it hurt, trying desperately to tune you out.

No luck.

“…and the way he looks at me? Like, I swear he knows I like him.”

Vi swallowed. Oh, she has no idea.

Your friend hummed. “So why don’t you just confess?”

Vi nearly had a heart attack.

Your head flopped dramatically onto your desk. “Because I don’t wanna ruin the mystery, y’know? Like, what if he’s only cool because I don’t actually know him?”

Vi’s eye twitched. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Your friend snorted. “You’re overthinking it. He’s just some random guy at a record store.”

Vi exhaled.

Yes. Exactly.

Just some random guy.

And if Vi had anything to say about it, you were gonna keep thinking that for as long as humanly possible.

Because there was no way in hell she was letting you figure this out. 

Vi squeezed her eyes shut.

If she just… stayed like this. Face down. Motionless.

Maybe—just maybe—she could die right here and now.

Vi needed a plan.

And fast.

Because there was no way she could survive another class period sitting next to you, listening to you go on about your crush—who, again, was her.

The problem was, she had no idea how to fix this.

Telling you outright? Not happening. That was practically social suicide.

Quitting the record store? No way. She actually liked that job.

Avoiding you? Also impossible, considering you were apparently obsessed with showing up at the store to flirt with her alter ego.

Which left her with only one option:

She had to make you lose interest.

Somehow.

Vi groaned, raking a hand through her hair. This was gonna suck.

DAY 1 

You were back at the record store the next day.

Because of course you were.

You’d spent the entire walk hyping yourself up, promising yourself you’d be cool, casual, and definitely not flustered.

But the second you stepped inside and saw him—hood up, mask on, flipping through records like he hadn’t just been staring in your daydreams all morning—your brain short-circuited.

You cleared your throat, pushing down the nervous excitement bubbling in your chest.

“Hello.”

Vi—er, mystery guy—didn’t even look up. “You again.”

You grinned. “Awww, you remember me.”

He sighed, muttering something under his breath. You caught the words so annoying but chose to ignore them.

Because, really, if he really thought you were annoying, he wouldn’t keep talking to you, right?

You leaned onto the counter. “So. Any recommendations for today?”

He slid a record toward you without hesitation.

You blinked down at it. “Wait… this is—”

“Obscure. Hard to find. And way outside your usual taste.”

Your grin widened. “You’re trying to get rid of me.”

“Obviously.”

Adorable.

You picked up the record, inspecting the cover. “Damn. If you’re gonna break my heart, at least do it gently.”

Vi—mystery guy—huffed, finally meeting your gaze. “I’m being very gentle.”

You laughed. God, he was fun to mess with.

And despite his whole act, you knew he didn’t actually hate you.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t always be so prepared for your visits.

You plopped the record onto the counter. “I’ll take it.”

“…What.”

You shrugged. “You picked it out for me, didn’t you? Can’t let your efforts go to waste.”

He stared at you like you’d just confessed to murder.

You smirked, fishing some cash out of your pocket. “Guess you’re stuck with me a little longer, huh?”

For a second—just a second—you swore you saw the tips of his ears turn red.

But then he scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You winked. “And yet, you love seeing me.”

He didn’t answer.

But he also didn’t deny it. 

Shit.

This was not going according to plan.

She was supposed to be pushing you away, not accidentally making you like her even more.

This was bad.

Very, very bad.

And the worst part?

A tiny, traitorous part of her didn’t hate it.

DAY 2

Vi wasn’t nervous.

Nope. Not at all.

Sure, she’d spent the entire morning convincing herself that you wouldn’t talk to her at school—because why would you? In your mind, she didn’t exist outside of that damn record store.

And sure, maybe her heart did skip a beat when she spotted you walking into class, chatting animatedly with your friends.

But she was not nervous.

The moment the teacher started reading out pairs for the group assignment, Vi barely paid attention—until she heard your name.

And then—

“…paired with Vi.”

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Oh, hell no.

She sat up so fast her knee banged against the desk. A few students turned to look, but she barely noticed.

There had to be a mistake.

You? Paired with her?

“Yo, Vi, chill out.” one of the guys snickered from across the room. 

Vi clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to chuck her notebook at him.

Meanwhile, you turned in your seat, scanning the classroom until your eyes landed on her.

Vi stiffened.

Your gaze lingered for a second, your head tilting slightly, like you were trying to place her.

And then—just like that—your expression shifted into something casual.

“Oh,” you said, getting up from your chair. “Guess that’s me.”

You walked over, dropping into the seat beside her without hesitation.

She should’ve skipped. She should’ve skipped.

“Alright,” you sighed, flipping through the worksheet. “Let’s get this over with.”

Vi swallowed hard, gripping her pen like it was a lifeline. “Yeah. Sure.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, reading the first question. “Alright, uh… What do you think?”

Vi blinked. “Huh?”

You gave her a look. “The question, dude. C’mon, stay with me.”

Vi’s brain short-circuited. Dude? You just called her dude?

“Right,” she muttered, clearing her throat. “Uh, I guess…” She skimmed the worksheet, barely processing the words. “This one?” She pointed to a random answer.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Vi hesitated. “...No?”

You snorted. “Yeah, let’s go with something else.”

Vi groaned internally. Great. She was an idiot and you thought she was dumb. This was just perfect.

To her credit, you didn’t seem too annoyed. If anything, you were just amused. You scribbled down an answer, tapping the pen against your chin. “Alright, next one…”

Vi exhaled slowly.

She just had to act normal. Keep it cool. Do the stupid assignment. And not think about how ridiculously close you were sitting.

Easy.

Totally easy.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a disaster.

The two of you managed to get through the assignment without any major incidents. You mostly did the writing while Vi tried not to make a fool of herself.

And now, as you leaned back in your chair, stretching, you let out a satisfied sigh.

“Alright, that’s done,” you said. “You’re not completely useless, I guess.”

Vi huffed out a laugh. “High praise.”

You smirked, tossing your pen onto the desk. “Gotta give credit where it’s due.”

Vi wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she just nodded.

A few seconds passed.

Then, just as quickly as you’d entered her space, you got up, gathering your things.

“Well, see ya.”

And just like that, you were gone, off to rejoin your friends, laughing at something one of them said.

Vi exhaled, slumping back in her chair.

Crisis mostly averted.

But she was way too close to being caught.

DAY 3

Vi was not about to let herself slip up.

Not now. Not ever.

So after her shift at the record store, she did what she always did—ripped out her piercings, scrubbed off her black nail polish, and made sure her school uniform looked just normal enough to keep you from noticing anything.

It was foolproof.

…Or so she thought.

Because the next morning, when she sat down in class, she made the fatal mistake of stretching her hands out on her desk.

And you noticed.

“Wait a second.”

Vi’s heart stopped.

She barely had time to react before you grabbed her hand, lifting it up for inspection.

“Your nails…” you murmured, narrowing your eyes.

Vi froze.

Oh shit.

There was still a faint trace of black nail polish around the edges of her nails, smudged just enough to be noticeable.

And the way you were staring at it?

Yeah. She was so dead.

Your brows furrowed in concentration. “This color… I feel like I’ve seen it before.”

Vi yanked her hand away, forcing a scoff. “It’s just nail polish. Who cares?”

You ignored her, eyes flickering in thought. Then, slowly—dangerously—your expression shifted.

Your lips parted slightly. “No way…”

Vi stiffened. Oh god, oh god, oh god—

You snapped your fingers. “The music store guy has the exact same nail polish.”

Vi’s stomach flipped.

Was this it? Was this how she got caught?

You stared at her for another few seconds, tilting your head.

Vi could feel the gears turning in your brain.

And then—

“…Meh.”

Vi blinked. “Huh?”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Probably a coincidence.”

Vi nearly collapsed from sheer relief.

You yawned, resting your chin in your palm. “Man, that guy’s been on my mind a lot lately. Think I should ask for his number?”

Vi’s entire body locked up.

She plastered on the most uninterested face she could manage. “Dunno. Maybe he’d say no.”

You snorted. “Pfft. Yeah, right. I’m adorable.”

Vi buried her face in her arms.

She was going to die.

DAY 4

Vi had been doing so well.

She’d managed to keep you clueless, survived another school day without getting caught, and even convinced herself that she was totally in control of this whole situation.

And then you showed up at the record store with that damn smile.

“Hey, mystery guy.”

Vi didn’t look up. “Back again? We're about to close.”

“Obviously.” You leaned against the counter, eyes twinkling. “And today, I actually need your help.”

Vi exhaled, pretending to be annoyed. “You always need my help.”

You ignored that. “So, I was thinking… You’ve got good taste in music, right?”

Vi smirked. “Clearly.”

“Well, I wanna hear it.” You grinned. “Make me a playlist.”

Vi blinked. “What.”

“You know. A playlist. Songs you think I’d like.”

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Oh, hell no.

That was dangerous. Too personal. Too close. Too much room for slipping up.

She needed an excuse. Something to shut this down fast.

“Nah,” she said flatly. “Not my problem.”

Your smile didn’t waver. “Oh, come on. I know you have a good one in mind. Just send it to me.”

“I don’t—”

“Here.”

Before Vi could react, you grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand toward you.

She stiffened instantly.

Because oh god, you were holding her hand.

Not just holding—writing on it.

Her brain completely short-circuited.

She barely processed the way your fingers traced over her skin, the slight ticklish sensation of the pen gliding against it, the casual ease with which you invaded her space like it was the most natural thing in the world.

By the time she snapped out of it, it was too late.

You pulled back, capping your pen with a satisfied nod.

“There,” you said. “That’s my number.”

Vi stared at her palm like it was a ticking bomb.

You winked. “Send me the playlist, okay?”

Vi swallowed. “Uh.”

You gave her a little wave, completely unaware of the absolute meltdown she was having.

“See ya, mystery guy.”

Then, just like that, you walked out.

Leaving Vi standing there.

With your number.

On her hand.

And the horrifying realization that she had no way out of this.

The second you stepped out of the record store, you bolted around the corner, whipped out your phone, and immediately started typing.

Grinning, you typed back.

Your phone practically exploded with notifications.

Your friends lost their minds in the chat.

You laughed, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

This was too fun.

Now, all you had to do was wait.

The second you walked out of the record store, Vi knew she was screwed.

It wasn’t just because you had given her your number. No—if it had been just that, she could’ve ignored it. Pretended she lost it. Lied about never seeing it.

But no. You wrote it on her damn hand.

And worse? You did it so casually—like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like it didn’t completely knock the air out of her lungs and set her brain on fire.

Vi was still standing there, completely frozen, when a low chuckle rumbled from the back of the store.

“You’re still in one piece, huh?”

Vi snapped out of it just in time to see Vander, her adoptive father and technically the shop’s owner, smirking as he wiped down the counter.

Powder, Vi’s little sister, was leaning dramatically against the nearest shelf, watching her with wide eyes. “Vi. Oh my God. You got a girl’s number.”

Vi scowled. “Shut up.”

“Oh, hell no.” Powder bolted forward, practically vibrating with excitement. “Lemme see!”

Before Vi could yank her hand away, Powder grabbed it, gasping at the sight of your number.

“Ohhh, this is so real.” Powder looked up at Vander with a huge grin. “Big sis has a crush.”

Vi yanked her hand back like it burned. “I do not.”

Vander chuckled. “You gonna call her?”

Vi stiffened. “What? No.”

Powder gasped dramatically. “You’re gonna ghost her?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Then what are you gonna do?”

Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Nothing. I’m gonna do nothing.”

Powder crossed her arms. “You can’t do nothing. She gave you her number. That’s, like, the universal ‘hey, I like you’ move!”

Vander hummed in agreement, setting down his rag. “Gotta say, kid, it’d be rude to leave her hanging.”

Vi’s face burned. “I don’t even know if she likes me like that!”

Powder snorted. “She wrote her number on your hand.”

“Yeah, maybe she just—” Vi cut herself off. Just what? Just wanted a playlist? Just wanted to mess with her? Just wanted an excuse to talk to her again?

Vander raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

“I’m not.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Vi groaned, shoving her hands deep into her hoodie pockets. “Can we please just close up the store and forget this ever happened?”

Vander chuckled. “Sure, sure. But if she shows up again, I’m making you ring her up.”

Vi froze.

“Wait, no—”

But Vander was already walking toward the back room, Powder following close behind with a devious smirk.

Vi slumped against the counter, exhaling sharply.

This was not how today was supposed to go.

Vi locked up the shop, shoving her hands deep into her hoodie pockets as she stepped onto the dimly lit street.

The air was cool, the usual hum of the city filling the silence. Normally, she liked the walk home. It was quiet, easy—time to clear her head.

Not tonight.

Tonight, her brain was screaming.

Because no matter how hard she tried to push it aside, her palm still tingled where you had grabbed it.

Where you had written your damn number.

Vi scowled, rubbing at her hand as she walked. The ink had smudged a little, but the numbers were still clear.

Send me the playlist, okay?

Your words echoed in her head, over and over, until she wanted to throw herself into traffic.

She could ignore it. She should ignore it.

But that wasn’t gonna stop you.

You’d just show up at the store again, all teasing and smug, cornering her into another conversation.

She hated how easily you did that. How easily you got under her skin.

Vi exhaled sharply, kicking at a loose rock on the sidewalk.

By the time she reached home, her nerves were shot. She slammed the door behind her, tossed her bag onto the floor, and collapsed onto her bed with a heavy sigh.

Her phone buzzed.

Her breath hitched.

She scrambled for it, unlocking the screen—

Not you.

Just some random notification.

Vi groaned, flopping onto her back.

This was ridiculous.

She needed to stop thinking about you.

She needed to end this now.

Without looking, she grabbed a wet wipe from her desk and started rubbing at her palm.

The ink smudged.

But as she watched the numbers fade, her chest got this weird, horrible feeling—like she was making a mistake.

She swallowed hard.

And before she could think about it too much, she grabbed a pen.

And rewrote your number.

Just in case.

Then, throwing the pen aside, she buried her face in her pillow and groaned.

She was so, so screwed.

Vi slumped at her desk, headphones on, phone in her hand, staring at the empty playlist with a scowl.

Making a playlist for someone should be easy. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before. But this wasn’t just some random playlist. You had asked for it. And somehow, that made it so much harder.

She huffed and started adding songs at random, going with her usual favorites.

"Smells Like Teen Spirit" – Nirvana.A classic. No way she could go wrong with that.

"The Pretender" – Foo Fighters.Yeah, solid choice. High energy. A little chaotic. Should be your vibe.

She tapped her fingers against the desk, thinking.

"Reptilia" – The Strokes.Good riff, good energy.

"Last Nite" – The Strokes.… Maybe a bit too mainstream? Whatever. Adding it anyway.

She continued scrolling, adding songs she thought you might like—or at least songs she hoped you’d think were cool.

"Do I Wanna Know?" – Arctic Monkeys.Wait. No. That sounded way too much like a confession. She deleted it immediately.

"Are You Gonna Be My Girl" – Jet.Deleted. Way too flirty.

She groaned, running a hand through her hair. Why is this so hard?

At this rate, she was going to end up overanalyzing every song. Should she just throw in some random stuff and hope for the best? Or should she actually put effort into it?

She clicked on a new song.

"Seven Nation Army" – The White Stripes.

Okay. This one could stay.

She sat back, staring at the playlist. It was good. Solid. A little messy, but it fit.

It should’ve been fine.

But somehow, it didn’t feel like enough.

She bit her lip, hesitating—then, without thinking too hard about it, she added one last song.

"Everlong" – Foo Fighters.

Her finger hovered over the screen.

That one was definitely a little too much.

Too personal.

Too… soft.

But instead of deleting it, Vi pressed save.

Now she just had to figure out how to actually send it to you without completely losing her mind.

Your number was still sitting there, clear as day, saved under a blank contact.

She shouldn’t text you.

She should just ignore it.

But if she ignored it, you’d definitely come back to the store, all smug and teasing, asking why she hadn’t sent the playlist yet. And then what? She couldn’t just say no. That would be weird. Suspicious.

Vi groaned, flopping back onto her bed.

This was so stupid.

It was just a playlist. It wasn’t like she was agreeing to a date or something. All she had to do was send a message, drop a few song links, and be done with it.

Simple.

Easy.

Except her hands wouldn’t move.

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, typing out a quick, Here’s your playlist, before immediately deleting it.

Too blunt.

She tried again. Here you go. Let me know what you think.

Nope. Too casual. Too friendly. She didn’t talk like that.

Vi groaned, covering her face with one hand. She had never felt so stupid over a text in her life.

Her phone buzzed.

Her heart jumped.

But when she checked, it wasn’t you. Just some random notification.

Vi scowled, tossing her phone onto the bed.

She needed to get a grip.

It was just a text. Just a stupid, meaningless text.

So why the hell was it making her so nervous?

Her eyes drifted back to her phone.

Maybe… just one message.

Just to get it over with.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard again, hesitating—before she finally, finally typed:

Here’s your playlist.

She hesitated.

Then, before she could overthink it any further, she hit send.

And immediately regretted it.

Vi tossed her phone across the bed, rolling onto her stomach and groaning into her pillow.

Now she had to wait.

And that was so much worse.

You had been checking your phone way too much.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

But, well… it had been hours since you gave your number to the record store clerk, and there was still nothing. No text. No playlist. No reaction.

You weren’t worried, exactly. It’s not like he had to text you right away. But still—what was taking so long?

It wasn’t like you asked for something difficult. Just a playlist. A few songs. How hard could that be?

Your friends had been blowing up the group chat all night.

You rolled your eyes.

Okay, maybe that was a little funny. The thought of him—cool, quiet, aloof him—nervous over a simple text? No way.

You checked your phone again. Still nothing.

With an exaggerated sigh, you flopped onto your bed, tossing your phone onto your pillow. Maybe you really would have to “accidentally” stop by the record store again, just to remind him.

Before you could dwell on it too much, your phone buzzed.

Your heart jumped.

You snatched it up so fast you nearly dropped it.

One new message.

From an unknown number.

Your stomach did a little flip.

You clicked it open.

You blinked.

That was… it?

No explanation? No hey, sorry for the wait? No follow-up?

Just straight to business.

You stared at the message for a second before a grin crept onto your lips.

Classic mystery guy.

Shaking your head, you clicked on the link, opening the playlist.

The first few songs made sense. Smells Like Teen Spirit, The Pretender, Reptilia—all solid, all very him.

But as you scrolled further, something caught your eye.

"Everlong" – Foo Fighters.

You paused.

That one felt… different.

More personal.

Your lips curled into a smirk.

Oh, this was interesting.

Grinning, you clicked play.

Then, without missing a beat, you typed back:

You: Took you long enough ;)You: Good taste though. Didn’t take you for a Foo Fighters kind of guy.

And then, for good measure:

You: Guess I’ll have to come back and thank you in person.

You hit send, tossing your phone aside as Everlong started playing through your speakers.

Let’s see how he handled that.

Vi had finally started to relax.

She’d thrown herself onto her bed, tucked herself under the blankets, and convinced herself that it didn’t matter.

Your number was still there, sitting clear as day in her contacts. But if she ignored it, nothing bad would happen.

She could just go to sleep, wake up, go to work tomorrow, and pretend this never—

BZZT.

Vi flinched.

Her whole body tensed as she stared at her phone.

It was probably nothing. A spam message. An email.

Her phone buzzed again.

Nope. That was definitely a text.

Vi squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t check it. Don’t check it. Just sleep.

Her phone buzzed again.

“Oh, come on,” Vi groaned, rolling over and grabbing her phone.

Her screen lit up.

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Her face burned. Shit.

She knew she should’ve taken that song out.

Vi sat up so fast she nearly flung herself out of bed.

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, running a hand down her face.

She was so screwed.

Powder’s muffled voice called from the next room. “Vi? Why are you having a crisis?”

“I am not having a crisis!”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Oh my God, she texted you, didn’t she?!”

Vi threw a pillow at the wall. “Go to sleep, Powder!”

Her little sister just cackled.

Vi groaned, turning back to her phone.

Okay. Okay. She just had to answer normally. Like a normal person.

She started typing.

Vi: Didn’t realize I was on a deadline.

No, too dry.

She deleted it and tried again.

Vi: Didn’t know you were that impatient.

No, that sounded flirty.

God, what was wrong with her?

Powder’s voice rang out again. “Vi, if you don’t text her back, I will do it for you.”

Vi hissed. “Mind your own business!”

Powder snickered.

Vander’s voice came from down the hall, groggy with sleep. “Both of you, go to bed.”

Vi exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple.

After a full minute of struggling, she gave up and just typed:

Vi: Glad you liked it.

Simple. Safe. Nothing weird.

She hovered over the send button.

Her thumb twitched.

Then, against her better judgment, she added:

Vi: You don’t have to thank me.

There. That should be enough.

Before she could overthink it, she hit send and immediately dropped her phone onto the bed like it was a bomb.

Powder’s voice rang out one last time, muffled but way too smug:

“You’re so whipped.”

Vi buried her face in her pillow and groaned.

She was so, so screwed.

DAY 5 

The next day Vi found herself immersed in a carnival-style event at the local park. Vander’s friend was holding the event for charity, and he had asked the crew to pitch in. Powder had dragged Vi along, claiming it was going to be "fun" and that she could get free food, which Vi was more than happy to oblige. She had no school today, so why not help out?

Vi was stationed at one of the shooting booths, managing the game for the event. She wasn’t a fan of the loud noises or the chaos of crowds, but it kept her distracted. It kept her from thinking too much about you.

You were still in her head after last night. The playlist. The text. That small, nervous excitement that she couldn't shake. It was driving her crazy. So, she focused on her work and the customers in front of her, pushing all thoughts of you aside.

Just then, her eyes caught a familiar figure entering the park.

It was you.

Her heart skipped a beat. You weren’t just casually strolling through, though. You were heading right toward her booth.

Her stomach did a flip, and she felt her face flush. No. No, no, no. Why now? Why here?

Vi didn’t know how to act. There you were, looking like you belonged at this carnival more than anyone else, as if you hadn’t completely wrecked her calm and composed façade just the night before. Vi’s grip tightened around the clipboard in her hands, her eyes instinctively darting around for a way to hide—anything to avoid a repeat of their last awkward encounter.

Her eyes landed on the table next to her. A pile of carnival masks, left over from a previous booth, stared back at her. One mask in particular—a plain party mask—caught her attention. It wasn’t too flashy or dramatic. It was simple, easy to put on, and most importantly, it would cover her face. Perfect.

Without thinking too much about it, she quickly grabbed the mask and slipped it over her face, adjusting it to cover her expression just enough so that she could breathe, but still stay somewhat hidden.

Meanwhile, you were happily strolling through the carnival with your friends, casually making your way to the shooting booth. You weren’t expecting to win, but you were definitely up for the challenge.

“Bet I can beat you,” one of your friends teased, nudging you forward. “Come on, let’s see what you got.”

You sighed, a bit cocky. “I’ve got this in the bag. Watch and learn.”

Your friends laughed as you took your turn, aiming at the targets. But for some reason, the gun felt heavier than you remembered, and your aim was off. Your frustration grew with every miss.

“Ugh! Seriously?” you groaned as you fumbled with the gun, only managing to hit one target out of five.

Vi, watching from behind the booth, saw you struggling. She shifted uncomfortably in her position, feeling that familiar tug in her chest. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t like seeing you upset, even if you weren’t aware of it.

After a moment, Vi stepped forward, pulling her mask down slightly—just enough so it stayed secure but still let her speak. “You look like you need a hand,” she said, her voice a little hesitant. Her stomach flipped at the thought of being noticed. She wasn’t supposed to be the one in the spotlight, not here, not now.

You blinked, caught off guard by her presence. “What? No, I’m fine, really. Just having an off day.”

She raised an eyebrow, though her mouth quirked into an amused smile under her mask. “Doesn’t look like it.” She gestured at the gun. “You want me to take a shot?”

You hesitated. Something about her seemed oddly familiar, but you couldn’t place it. It wasn’t like you’d seen her before, but the way she carried herself... it reminded you of something.

Before you could say anything, she snatched up the gun with an easy, practiced motion. She set her stance and began taking her shots with precision, hitting every target effortlessly.

You gawked at her in silence. Damn, she’s good.

With one final shot, she hit the last target, and the bell rang, signaling a win. The lights flashed above the booth, and she handed you the prize—a giant stuffed bear.

You blinked, completely dumbfounded. “Wait, you really didn’t have to do that. I was just… trying to have fun. I didn’t expect to actually win.”

Vi shrugged, looking just a little too calm for someone who had just stepped in to save the day. "No big deal. You looked like you needed a little help."

But her mind was spinning. Why did I do that? Why did I step in?

Her eyes flicked nervously toward you, but behind her mask, her face flushed red. What the hell, Vi? She cursed to herself. Why are you acting like this?

You blinked again, studying her a little more closely. That odd sense of familiarity crept back, and you couldn’t shake it. There was something about her—the way she moved, how she made everything look so easy. But the mask was throwing you off. Maybe it’s just me overthinking. You tried to push the thought aside.

“Thanks,” you said, awkwardly accepting the prize. “I owe you one.”

Vi, still in a daze, managed a short nod, her heart racing. “No need. Just… enjoy the game.”

You gave her a small smile, but the moment was over. You turned back to your friends, who were eagerly moving toward the next booth.

As you walked away, you glanced over your shoulder, just to see her standing there, adjusting the mask, her posture stiff and unsure, like she was trying to disappear into the background.

Vi’s stomach was doing flip-flops, and her thoughts were running wild. I’m an idiot. Why the hell did I step in like that? Why’d I even try to help her? She doesn’t need me to do that, and now I look like a fool.

She couldn’t stop replaying the scene in her head, the way you’d looked at her for just a second too long, like you recognized her. Oh my god, what if she knows? What if she realizes who I am?

She adjusted her mask a little, trying to calm her nerves. You’re fine, Vi. It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong.

But deep down, she wasn’t so sure.

She tried to distract herself by focusing on the next group of carnival-goers who approached her booth. But all she could think about was you—and that mask that probably wasn’t even enough to keep you from figuring out who she was.

Vi barely made it through the rest of her shift.

After you left the booth, she couldn’t stop replaying the moment in her head. The way you had looked at her. That pause when you had stared at her just a second too long. That stupid feeling in her gut that told her she was being so obvious.

She didn’t recognize me, right?

Vi groaned, running a hand down her face. She could still feel the warmth on her cheeks, and the way her fingers had trembled when she handed you the stuffed bear.

"Vi, are you good?"

She stiffened. Powder was suddenly right there, standing next to her booth with a half-eaten funnel cake in her hands, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Vi sighed, adjusting the mask on her face. “I’m fine, Powder.”

"You sure?" Powder smirked, taking a slow bite of her snack. "‘Cause you look like you’re about to pass out."

Vi shot her a glare. “Go bother someone else.”

“Ohhh, touchy,” Powder teased, rocking on her heels. "You look extra weird today. What’s with the mask, anyway?" She poked Vi’s arm. "What, you trying to be mysterious or something?"

Vi stiffened, nearly choking on her own breath. “No,” she said way too fast.

Powder’s smirk widened. “OHHHH MY GOD.” She pointed at Vi like she just cracked some world-ending secret. “You’re hiding from someone!”

Vi paled. “Shut up.”

"You are!” Powder cackled, her blue eyes gleaming. “Wait, wait—who is it? Someone from school? Omg, do you owe someone money? Did you piss off the wrong person?"

Vi groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Powder, I swear—"

Then, as if the universe was hell-bent on making her suffer, your voice cut through the carnival noise.

“Guys! I'm gonna try that game again—”

Vi froze.

She barely had time to react before you and your friends walked back toward the booth.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

She spun around so fast Powder blinked in confusion. “What are you—”

“COVER ME,” Vi hissed, practically throwing herself behind Powder.

Powder snorted. "Vi, you’re like 6 inches taller than me—”

“Shut up,” Vi whisper-yelled.

Powder turned, watching as you approached the booth again, seemingly interested in another round. Her eyes flicked back to Vi, who was literally crouching behind the prize shelf like some kind of escaped fugitive.

Her grin grew wicked. "Wait a second.”

Vi paled. "Powder. No."

Powder gasped, clapping her hands together. “IT’S HER.”

“SHHHH,” Vi hissed, shoving Powder away before she could draw more attention. “Be cool, be normal.”

Powder was not normal. In fact, she was giggling like a madman.

Vi had never known fear like this.

She stayed frozen in place, barely daring to peek out from behind the booth. You cannot recognize me, you cannot recognize me, you cannot recognize me—

Meanwhile, you handed some tickets to the person running the booth (thankfully not Vi) and picked up the toy gun again.

You squinted at the targets, biting your lip in focus. “Alright, I gotta redeem myself. No way I’m losing again.”

Your friends cheered you on as you took your shots—though you weren’t that much better than before.

From behind the booth, Vi watched, her fingers gripping the edge of the wooden counter.

She hated how cute you looked when you were focused.

FUCK.

She turned away, squeezing her eyes shut. Get a grip, Vi. Pull yourself together. You’re wearing a mask. She has no idea it’s you. Just stay put and—

"Hey, where’d the guy from earlier go?"

Vi's blood ran cold.

You were looking around, puzzled, obviously wondering where the masked mystery guy had disappeared to.

Powder, the absolute menace, grinned so wide it could split her face in half.

“Oh, him?” she said sweetly, her voice dripping with mischief.

Vi panicked.

She kicked Powder’s ankle under the booth.

Powder yelped. “Ow! Rude!”

You blinked at her. "Huh?"

Powder scowled at Vi (who was mouthing I will end you from behind the counter), then turned back to you with an innocent shrug.

"Dunno where he went," Powder said casually, rubbing her shin. "Probably went on break or something."

You frowned, disappointed. “Damn. Alright.”

Vi exhaled so hard she felt her soul leave her body.

You sighed, shaking your head before turning to leave. "Oh well. Let’s try the ring toss next."

Your friends nodded, and just like that, you walked away.

Vi didn’t move until you were completely out of sight.

Then, she collapsed against the booth, staring at the sky like she had just survived a near-death experience.

Powder immediately burst out laughing.

"Oh my God," she wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. "That was painful to watch. I should’ve recorded that."

Vi groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Kill me."

"Seriously, though—"why" are you hiding?" Powder grinned, nudging her sister. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me—you have a crush on her.”

Vi flinched so hard it was like she got shot.

Powder gasped dramatically. "HOLY SHIT. YOU TOTALLY DO.”

Vi grabbed a random stuffed animal and smacked Powder with it. "SHUT UP."

Powder just cackled harder.

Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. This was a disaster.

Because, deep down, she knew Powder was right.

She had it bad.

And worse? You still had no idea.

DAY 6

Vi woke up feeling like she had been hit by a truck.

Not physically—though Powder had tackled her in a fit of laughter at least once after the carnival—but emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually.

Because, well… she had hid from you.

Like a total idiot.

Groaning, she shoved her pillow over her face and refused to move.

Maybe if she stayed in bed long enough, the earth would just open up and swallow her whole.

You didn’t recognize me… right?

The thought had been plaguing her all night. You had looked at her funny. There was something in the way your gaze lingered, like a puzzle piece that almost fit but not quite.

Vi groaned again, rolling onto her side.

She should’ve just acted normal. Just played it cool. But nooo, she had to throw a mask on her face and then go and win a stupid bear for you.

She punched her pillow. WHY did I do that?!

And worse—why did she kind of like the way you had smiled at her for it?

No. No, she was not thinking about that.

She needed to get a grip.

With a long, suffering sigh, Vi finally sat up, rubbing her face. It was her day off, and she was determined to not make it about overthinking every embarrassing thing she had done in the last 24 hours.

…Or at least she was going to be determined. After coffee.

She dragged herself to the kitchen, where Powder was already sitting at the table, swinging her legs and scrolling on her phone.

As soon as Vi entered, Powder grinned.

“Morning, mystery guy.”

Vi immediately turned around. “Nope.”

Powder cackled. “You are so embarrassing.”

Vi groaned, grabbing a mug and pouring herself coffee. “Please, for the love of God, shut up.”

Powder ignored her completely. “No, but seriously, Vi, that was painful to watch. I mean, you were full-on hiding behind a prize shelf like a little kid. That was some next-level awkward.”

Vi scowled. “I panicked.”

"Clearly." Powder smirked. "You should’ve just talked to her."

Vi scoffed. "Oh, yeah, because that would’ve gone so well. ‘Hey, remember me? I’m actually the guy you were lowkey flirting with at the record store, except I’m not a guy, and I was wearing a stupid mask all night because I’m an idiot—’”

Powder wheezed. "Yeah, that would've been hilarious."

Vi sighed, sipping her coffee. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Powder rested her chin in her hand. "Sooo… are you ever gonna tell her?”

Vi nearly choked on her coffee. “Tell her?”

“Yeah, y’know,” Powder said, tilting her head. “That you’re you.”

Vi ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. “She doesn’t need to know.”

Powder blinked. “She thinks you’re a dude.”

"She assumes I’m a dude,” Vi corrected. “I never said I was."

Powder gave her a look. "Vi, you literally avoided correcting her every time she called you ‘him.’"

Vi groaned. "It’s not that deep, Powder."

"It is that deep!" Powder threw her hands up. "You like her! And now you’re stuck in this dumbass mess because you couldn’t just say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m a girl.’”

Vi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, one—I don’t like her. And two—”

"BULLSHIT." Powder pointed dramatically. “You are so down bad.”

Vi turned red. “I am not.”

Powder leaned in with a wicked grin. “Then why’d you win her a stuffed animal, Vi?”

Vi froze.

Powder gasped, smacking the table. “OH MY GOD.”

Vi wanted to die.

“You so like her,” Powder cackled. “Ohhh, I’m telling Vander—”

Vi slammed her hand over Powder’s mouth. “Don’t you dare.”

Powder muffled a laugh against Vi’s palm before pulling back, grinning so smugly.

Vi groaned, rubbing her temple. “This is a disaster.”

"No, this is hilarious," Powder corrected.

Vi ignored her, downing the rest of her coffee like it was alcohol.

After a long silence, Powder spoke again, her tone suddenly too casual.

“Sooo… what if she comes back to the record store today?”

Vi froze.

She hadn’t even thought about that.

You had said you’d come back.

Vi’s heart did an annoying little flip.

Powder’s smirk widened. “Ohhh, you’re so screwed.”

Vi put her head down on the table with a thud. 

DAY 7

Vi sighs, rubbing the back of her neck as she leans against the counter. It’s been a busy Saturday, and she’s been thinking about you more than she’d like to admit. Every time she catches a break, her mind drifts back to the way you’d smile at her, the way your eyes would light up whenever you walked into the shop. She tells herself it’s nothing, just a passing distraction. She’s supposed to be focused on work, not daydreaming.

She glances up at the clock.

4:00 PM.

Still no sign of you.

Vi frowns. It shouldn’t matter. It’s not like you’ve been coming every day. Maybe you’re busy. Maybe you’ve lost interest. She shouldn’t be disappointed. She doesn’t even know why she cares.

She pulls off her cap and mask, letting the cool air hit her face. It’s probably better this way. She can stop overthinking, stop wondering if you’d show up.

Meanwhile, you’re sprinting down the sidewalk, your heart pounding with a mix of frustration and nerves. You’re late. Traffic’s been hell, and now your stomach is in knots. You promised yourself you wouldn’t think about it too much, but how can you not?

You reach the record store, hand hovering over the door handle, and then—

You freeze.

There she is.

Vi.

The mask and cap are gone. The moment your eyes land on her, it’s like everything else fades away. The voice. The posture. The way she stands, leaning against the counter, the easy confidence in her movements.

Oh my god.

It was her all along.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and your stomach lurches. You’ve been crushing on Vi—the girl behind the counter—this whole time. The girl who was always right in front of you.

Your pulse quickens, blood rushing to your head as a mix of panic and disbelief crashes over you. You can barely process the flood of thoughts, and then it hits you even harder: she knew. She knew you thought she was a guy, and she never said a word. Never corrected you. Never let on.

What the hell? Why didn’t she say something?

Your fists clench at your sides as a wave of humiliation floods your chest. Did she think it was funny? Was she watching you, letting you stumble around, thinking you were flirting with some mysterious guy while secretly knowing you were completely wrong?

A sharp heat rises in your face as embarrassment claws at you, twisting into something more uncomfortable. You want to leave. You want to forget about all of this, but something’s gnawing at you. Something deeper that you don’t want to confront.

If Vi never corrected you, then why the hell were you attracted to her in the first place?

You stop yourself, heart pounding in your throat as your stomach churns. This isn’t just about her being a girl. You didn’t care about that before. Or at least, you didn’t think you did. But now? It’s impossible to ignore.

You take a shaky step back, your chest tightening with all these conflicting emotions you can’t name. Confusion. Embarrassment. Frustration.

And yet, there’s something else, something undeniable, twisting at the pit of your stomach.

You can’t go in. Not now. Not when she might see the look on your face. Not when you don’t even know what’s going on in your own head.

Without thinking, you turn and rush toward the curb, hailing the first cab that passes by. The ride back feels like an eternity. You sit there, arms crossed tightly over your chest, staring out the window as the world blurs by. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, looping in on itself, never quite settling on anything.

By the time you step through the door at home, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed. You’re unsettled. Conflicted. And you still don’t have the answers.

“Home so soon?” your mom’s voice calls from the kitchen, but you don’t even acknowledge her.

“Yeah, changed my mind,” you mutter, your voice lacking conviction as you head upstairs.

You slam the bedroom door shut behind you and collapse face-first into your bed, groaning into the pillow.

This is so stupid. Why do you care this much? Why does it feel like your entire world just shifted, and you can’t even keep up?

But the worst part? You still like Vi. You like her. And you have no idea what to do with that.

Everything feels like one big mess, and you’re stuck at the center of it.

 DAY 1 

Vi walks into the classroom, headphones stuffed into her bag seconds before entering. She lets her eyes wander around the classroom, and her gaze lands on you. You had been talking to your friends for the past few minutes, rambling on about boys or whatever the hell you guys could ramble about.

Vi places her bag next to her seat, and sits down. She took out her textbook, silently waiting for you to greet her.

…

Five minutes had passed, and it seemed as if she hadn’t even existed to you. Your friends started asking about ‘’the mysterious clerk’’ you had liked. Your expression faltered— for just a split second. But no one else noticed. You told your friends nothing new had happened, and brushed the topic aside.

Vi’s eyes dimmed. I mean, you hadn’t said anything bad. It was—  whatever.

DAY 2

Okay, she had definitely done something wrong. You talked about her yesterday, only answering a question, your friend asking for new updates on ‘’the mysterious clerk’’. You didn’t visit the shop either, Vi finding herself disappointed at the fact you hadn’t shown up. It was—  whatever.

DAY 3

‘’Hello? Vi? You there?’’ Vander says as he shakes his hand in front of Vi, trying to catch the clerks attention. Vi snaps out of whatever daze she had caught herself in.

‘’Ah— Vander? Yes sorry, I zoned out there.’’ Vander lets out a light laugh, and tells Vi it’s not a big deal. Vi curses to herself, as Powder exits the bathroom. 

‘’Saw what just happened. You good sis? You never zone out like that.’’ Powder was worried. Vi had been zoning out a lot these past few days; her sister never does that.

‘’Yeah no I’m… I’m fine. Just tired Powpow, schools been a lot.’’ Powder frowns. She was sure there was more Vi wasn’t telling her, but she knew Vi wasn’t in the mood.

‘’Okay, don’t forget to take care of yourself.’’ Vi sighs in relief as Powder starts to mind her own business. Vi doesn’t know why she keeps thinking about you— she barely even knows the girl. So what if she knew her favorite songs? So what if she knew you liked eating strawberry ice cream more than chocolate? It wasn’t that big of a deal— it was just little things. She didn’t even care that much.

DAY 4

Vi watched as you laughed with your friends, all of them sat near you. Back then— you’d try to include her in all the conversations, talking about ‘’the mysterious clerk’’. But now? You had barely spoken a word about her—  or rather, him. It was starting to concern Vi. She doesn’t recall doing anything offensive. Vi sighs. She had come to terms with her caring— even if she didn’t know why. It was quite the headache, but maybe, a part of her— had been missing you all this time.

But still, the girl had no idea why. So Vi had held it in, hoping today would be the day you finally decided to ‘’grace’’ her with your presence.

DAY 5

Vi was losing her mind.

She had no idea what was going on.

One day, you were all smiles, flirting, laughing, hanging around the store like you belonged there. Then suddenly—nothing.

You didn’t show up. You didn’t look at her in class. You didn’t even acknowledge her existence.

It wasn’t just weird—it was wrong.

Vi sat on the couch, tossing a stress ball up and catching it repeatedly, her leg bouncing. She hated feeling like this—like something was out of her control. She just needed to know what the hell happened.

She threw the ball harder. It smacked against the wall and hit her in the face.

“Dude,” Powder said from across the room, watching the whole thing. “What’s up with you?”

Vi scowled, rubbing her forehead. “Nothin’.”

Powder raised a brow. “Mhm. Right. That’s why you just took yourself out with a stress ball?”

Vi grumbled something under her breath, slumping back.

Powder hopped onto the couch beside her, nudging her shoulder. “Come on. You’re acting weird. Did something happen at school?”

Vi hesitated.

Did something happen?

She wracked her brain for answers.

You had been fine the last time she saw you at the record store. You even—she swallowed—flirted with her. You had laughed, teased her, looked at her in that way that made her ears burn.

And then?

Radio silence.

Powder poked her. “You’re thinking way too hard about this.”

Vi groaned, covering her face. “She’s ignoring me.”

Powder blinked. “Huh?”

“She—” Vi huffed, dropping her hands. “She was talking to me just fine before. And now? She won’t even look at me.”

Powder frowned, tilting her head. “Did you say something to piss her off?”

“No!” Vi paused. “…I don’t think so?”

Powder deadpanned. “Vi.”

“I didn’t!” Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I have no clue what I did.”

“Okay, okay, jeez,” Powder said, raising her hands. “So, what, she just randomly started ignoring you?”

Vi clenched her jaw, leaning forward. “It’s not just that.”

The way she looked at her was different now—like Vi was something she didn’t want to be near.

Like she was some kind of problem.

And Vi hated it.

She didn’t even know why she cared so much.

It wasn’t like they were close. It wasn’t like she was owed anything.

Hell, she barely even knew this girl.

But still.

Something about being shut out so suddenly burned.

Powder nudged her. “If you really didn’t do anything, maybe she’s just dealing with her own stuff.”

Vi exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Give it time,” Powder said, patting Vi’s arm. “If she wants to talk, she’ll come to you. If not, then, y’know… whatever.”

Vi grunted, crossing her arms.

She hated waiting. Hated not knowing.

But what else could she do?

So, for now, she’d do what she could.

Wait.

DAY 6

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, staring blankly at the ceiling. The past few days had been… weird. Confusing. Your mind had been running in circles ever since you found out about Vi—the Vi who worked at the record store, the one who had been effortlessly cool, a little smug, and—God—the one you had definitely developed a crush on.

Except, she wasn’t a he.

And somehow, that had sent you spiraling into an existential crisis.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. This was ridiculous. It wasn’t like your feelings had changed overnight. Vi was still Vi. The same Vi who made you laugh with her dumb little comebacks and messed with you in that annoyingly attractive way. The same Vi who made your heart do flips every time she said your name.

So why the hell did everything feel so different now?

Then it hit you.

It wasn’t that you liked Vi because you thought she was a guy. It was because you liked her. You liked her—just as she was. The way she could be effortlessly confident one moment and somehow make you feel like the only person in the room the next. The way she could listen even when she acted like she didn’t care.

You liked Vi.

The realization settled deep in your chest. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just… unfamiliar. You’d never let yourself think about girls like that before. Not seriously, at least. But now that you were, it felt kind of terrifying and freeing at the same time. The fear wasn’t in liking her—it was in not knowing what that meant. Not knowing how to deal with it.

You flopped onto your bed with a groan, burying your face in your pillow. Maybe this was just a phase. Maybe you were overthinking it, letting your mind go to weird places.

But deep down, you already knew the truth.

It wasn’t just some fleeting thing. You liked Vi. You liked how she said your name in that low voice, like she had all the time in the world for you. You liked how she made you feel, how her presence felt like both a challenge and a comfort at the same time.

And maybe that was okay.

Maybe it was okay that you didn’t have all the answers. Maybe it was okay to not have everything figured out yet.

For now, you just let yourself feel. You didn’t need to understand it all, not right this second. All you needed to know was that, for the first time in a long while, you were starting to let yourself want something. Someone. And that was enough for now.

DAY 7

You didn’t expect to feel so nervous. You’d spent the last few days trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t a big deal. That it was just a conversation. That Vi would probably be completely chill about it.

But standing outside the record store now, you felt your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn’t planned on coming here today, but somehow, your feet had led you to the front door.

Vi jolts out of her thoughts when the sound of the door chime cuts through the quiet of the store. She quickly stands upright, her gaze landing on the door as it swings open. She expects the usual group of customers, maybe a few regulars, but then her heart stops when she sees you standing in the doorway. Your eyes meet hers, and for a split second, the world feels like it slows down.

You’re here.

You, who she hadn’t seen in days. You, who had left her hanging without so much as a word. She doesn’t know if she’s relieved or frustrated, but she definitely doesn’t know what to feel when she sees the look on your face—your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, your posture tense.

“Y-You’re back,” Vi stammers, her voice catching as she takes a step toward you. Her breath feels stuck in her chest as she watches you take a hesitant step forward.

There’s a tense silence that fills the space between you both. Vi fidgets with the sleeve of her jacket, unsure of what to do with her hands. Her nerves are firing, her thoughts scattered all over the place. She hasn't felt this way in a long time—so unsure, so vulnerable.

“Yeah…” you say, your voice quieter than usual. You run a hand through your hair, looking away for a brief moment before your eyes dart back to hers.

Vi stands there, waiting for you to say something more, but instead, the words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. You’d had the whole ride back to think about what to say, but now that you’re standing in front of her, it’s as if your mind has gone blank. All the questions you’ve been harboring about what happened between the two of you, about why you hadn’t seen her, they’re all jumbled up inside you. You want answers, but at the same time, you’re not even sure if you’re ready for them.

Finally, the silence stretches too long for either of you to ignore.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you blurt out, the words rushing out of you before you can stop them. Your voice is small, but the frustration behind it is clear. “Why didn’t you say anything? You knew I thought you were a guy... and you let me believe that. Why?”

Vi’s eyes widen at the sudden outburst. She hadn’t expected you to confront her like this—not now, not after everything that had happened. Her mouth opens, but the words don’t come out at first. The shock is evident on her face, her mind racing to piece together what you’re really asking.

“I…” Vi stumbles over her words, feeling heat rush to her face. “I wasn’t trying to— I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, okay? I didn’t know what to do… I didn’t know how to tell you without it being… awkward.” Her voice falters, her nerves taking over as she nervously scratches the back of her neck. “I mean, you came to the store, and you were all friendly, and I didn’t want to mess that up. I thought if I told you, you’d stop coming, and I didn’t want that.”

Your chest tightens as her words hit you. You had always suspected there was something more to her silence, but hearing it from her mouth makes it all feel real. Vi was caught between wanting to be honest and wanting to keep things easy, and in doing so, she pushed you away without even realizing it.

"Why didn’t you just tell me the truth, Vi?" you ask, your voice softer now, but still laced with confusion. "Why make me figure it out on my own?"

Vi bites her lip, looking down at the counter, clearly struggling with her emotions. “I didn’t want you to think I was… I don’t know… trying to trick you or something.” She takes a deep breath, meeting your eyes with a mix of vulnerability and frustration. “I liked you, okay? And I didn’t want to scare you off with the whole… ‘girl’ thing. But I get it. I messed up.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you process her words. You didn’t know what to think, or what you even wanted to hear. Part of you still feels betrayed, but another part of you can’t deny the flutter of something else at the thought of her liking you back.

"Why didn’t you just say it from the start?" You step closer, your frustration building again. "I didn’t care that you were a girl. Why would you think that would matter? It’s not about that."

Vi looks like she’s been struck, her face flushing even more at the implication. She swallows, the weight of your words settling in her chest. She wants to say something—anything to explain herself—but the words are trapped in her throat.

"I’m sorry," she whispers finally, her voice strained. "I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just… I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t."

The air is thick with the tension of your unsaid thoughts. It’s clear you’re both stuck in this moment, unsure of where to go next. The truth is hanging between you, but it’s messy and complicated. There are no easy answers. No quick fixes.

You take another step toward her, and for the first time in what feels like ages, you see something in Vi’s eyes—a kind of hope, mixed with fear, but also something softer.

"Maybe… we could just start over?" You suggest hesitantly, the words leaving your lips before you can second-guess them. "Like, just talk? Without all the confusion?"

Vi’s eyes widen in disbelief for a moment before her lips pull into a small, nervous smile. "I’d like that," she says quietly.

And just like that, it feels like the weight of the past few days lifts, even if just a little. You both know there’s still a lot left to figure out, but for now, the awkward tension has broken, and maybe that’s enough for now.

Vi steps closer, her usual confident demeanor back in place, though her eyes still hold that vulnerability. “You sure? I mean, I might be a little awkward,” she says with a sheepish grin.

You snort, feeling lighter than you have in days. “I think I can handle awkward.”

Vi laughs, the sound soft and genuine, as the air around you both shifts into something more comfortable. Maybe you don’t have all the answers yet, but at least you’ve started figuring it out—together.

a/n - got lazy on the ending guys sori ;-;

[chronically-chaotic-cryptid]

turns out Danny Healy-Rae was the one force strong enough to unite the left and right in Irish politics

[who-do-i-know-this-man-s3]

⚠️Vote for whomever YOU DO NOT KNOW⚠️‼️

[lightheaded-dullahan]

shower your lord wife in praise iori

[chasingshadowsblog]

"Cén fáth a tharla sé seo dúinn?"

"Níor tharla sé seo dúinn...deineadh é seo orainn."

Arracht (2019) stiúir. le Tomás Ó Súilleabháin

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[identifying-songs-in-just-dance]

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[alpha-mag-media]

Far-right demo at Leinster House was orchestrated attack on democracy, says Ceann Comhairle | In Trend Today

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[ur-mag]

Far-right demo at Leinster House was orchestrated attack on democracy, says Ceann Comhairle | In Trend Today

Far-right demo at Leinster House was orchestrated attack on democracy, says Ceann Comhairle Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[ceeaann]

Arcane Highschool!AU

characters - vi, caitlyn, jinx, sevika, ekko, jayce and viktor content - 7.1k words, cliche highschool tropes, gn!reader, just pure fluff also a little reverse comfort

A/N this was so fun to do, cant believe i finished this in 1 day ahahahahhaah. this is my longest work yet so hopefully you guys enjoy it <3

— Star Athlete!vi and Band!reader

You’ve spent most of your high school life flying under the radar as the band’s flute player—quiet, responsible, and perfectly content in your niche. Your days revolve around early-morning rehearsals, sheet music, and the steady rhythm of practice. It’s predictable, comfortable.

That is, until the school’s star athlete, Vi, always in whispers and cheers, bursts into your life like an unrelenting storm.

Shes everything you’re not—loud, brash, impulsive, and dangerously confident. The type who winks at the crowd after scoring the winning goal, whose swagger fills the halls, and who’s constantly making headlines for their fiery outbursts on and off the field. You’ve heard the stories: the scuffle at last week’s game, the heated argument with the coach, the rumors of detention slips piling up.

You’d barely exchanged more than a few words with her, but that changes when the school decides to host a collaborative pep rally—complete with a showstopping performance featuring both the sports teams and the band.

When the coach volunteers them to help promote school spirit by playing a surprise number with the band, you’re horrified. So is she.

“I don’t have time for this,” she scoff when she gets dragged to the band room. “Why don’t you all just play louder or something?”

Your teacher assigns you the unenviable task of teaching them how to play an instrument. You can practically hear your friends giggling behind your back as you pull them aside, thrusting a trumpet into their hands.

Vi groans, slouching in her chair like a bored kid in detention. “What’s the point of this? Everyone’s here to watch me win, not play this stupid thing.”

You bristle at their cocky tone. “Well, if you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of the entire school, I suggest you try.”

VI then gives you a smirk, leaning in just a little too close. “Oh, you think I can’t do it? I’m good at everything.”

It turns out, she's not.

The first few lessons are a disaster. She blow into the trumpet like she's trying to blow out a candle from across the room, their fingers fumble over the valves, and she keep snapping, “This thing is broken!” every time it makes a screeching noise.

But underneath all the bravado and eye-rolls, you start to notice something. The way she glares at the trumpet when she messes up isn’t just frustration—it’s determination. she hates failing, and she hates it even more that they’re bad at this.

“I’m not giving up,” Vi declares after her third failed attempt to hit a note. “I’m not letting some dumb piece of metal beat me.”

The more you work together, the more cracks appear in their tough exterior. she's fiercely competitive, yes, but also surprisingly quick to laugh at themselves when the trumpet sputters out the wrong notes. Her cocky grin softens when you praise even her smallest improvement, and she starts showing up to practice earlier than you do.

One afternoon, as you’re packing up your sheet music, you catch them staring at the band photo on the wall. “You guys practice this much all the time?” Vi asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Yeah,” you say, surprised. “It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it.”

she nod slowly, her usual swagger replaced by something contemplative. “Never thought about it like that. I guess… it’s kind of like training, huh?”

That’s when you realize she's not as invincible as she seem. Behind the hot-headed confidence is someone who works just as hard as you do, who’s just as passionate about what they love—even if they show it in a completely different way.

And when the pep rally finally arrives, with the gym packed to the rafters, she surprise's everyone—not just with how she learned to play, but with how she step aside during the performance to let the band take the spotlight.

Afterward, as the crowd cheers, she give you a lopsided grin. “Not bad, huh? Guess I’m pretty good at this whole teamwork thing.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide your smile.

The pep rally is over, and the gym is buzzing with energy as people file out, still cheering and talking about the unexpected performance. You’re gathering your things in the corner of the stage when you hear footsteps behind you.

“Hey,” she calls out, her voice softer than you’re used to.

You turn to find her standing there, holding her trumpet in one hand, the other rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck. For once, her usual cocky smirk is nowhere to be seen, replaced by an expression that’s… almost nervous.

“Uh, so… you were pretty great out there,” she says, her eyes flickering between yours and the floor. “I mean, you’re always great, but, like, today—you really killed it.”

You blink, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thanks. You were pretty great too. You didn’t even mess up the solo.”

She laughs, a warm, genuine sound that makes your chest flutter. “Yeah, well, I had a good teacher. Guess I owe you for that.”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Maybe. But you did the work. I’m impressed, actually. Didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.”

She steps a little closer, her usual confidence creeping back into her voice. “Yeah? So, I impressed you?”

Your face heats up, and you roll your eyes to hide it. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” she teases, but her grin softens as her gaze lingers on you. For a moment, neither of you says anything. The noise of the gym fades into the background, and all you can hear is the faint hum of your own heartbeat.

She looks down at the trumpet in her hand, turning it over like she’s stalling. “You know… I used to think band stuff was just… background noise. Like, nobody really notices it. But being up there, seeing how much you guys put into it…”

Her voice trails off, and when she looks back at you, there’s something in her eyes that makes it hard to breathe. “It made me notice you more.”

Your breath catches. “Me?”

“Yeah.” She takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the warmth radiating off her. “You’re not just some quiet band geek who hangs out in the background. You’re… amazing. And I’ve been an idiot for not seeing it sooner.”

You open your mouth to reply, but the words get stuck in your throat. She’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the world, and for the first time, you don’t feel small or invisible. You feel seen.

“I know I’ve been kind of… impossible,” she continues, her voice dropping lower. “But I don’t want to screw this up. So if I asked you to, I don’t know, grab milkshakes or something sometime… what would you say?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile. “I’d say… as long as you don’t try to play the trumpet during the date, I might say yes.”

Her laugh is loud and bright, and before you know it, she’s grinning down at you. “Deal.”

The gym lights flicker as the janitor starts cleaning up, and you realize you’ve been standing there for what feels like forever. But as she walks you out, her shoulder brushing against yours, you can’t help but think that maybe this impulsive, hot-headed star athlete isn’t so bad after all.

— Childhood Bestfriend!caitlyn

You and Caitlyn were inseparable once, two halves of the same whole. Summers were spent running through sun-drenched fields, plotting grand adventures, and swearing eternal friendship under the stars. But that was years ago, before her family moved away to chase bigger opportunities, and you were left behind with only memories of her bright laugh and unshakable confidence.

Life moved on, and so did you. By high school, she’d become little more than a bittersweet memory. Until now.

When she walks into your homeroom on the first day of senior year, it feels like the air’s been knocked out of you. She’s taller now, with an effortless grace that makes the room go quiet. Her uniform looks somehow sharper on her, her long, dark hair falling in perfect waves. There’s something in the way she carries herself—poised and self-assured, like she owns the world—and maybe she does.

Her family name has become a symbol of power and wealth. She’s been in the headlines, her achievements as a youth advocate already earning her a reputation as a fierce voice for justice. And yet, when her gaze scans the room and lands on you, her face lights up with the same brilliant smile you remember from childhood.

“Hey,” she says as she slides into the empty seat beside you, her voice low and familiar. “Long time no see.”

You’re too stunned to do anything but nod.

You quickly learn that she’s not just here for nostalgia—she’s here with a purpose. Between rigorous AP classes, she’s working on a project to bring awareness to systemic issues in your town. Meetings, interviews, and late nights at the library seem to be her norm, and it doesn’t take long for her to rope you into helping.

At first, it feels surreal being around her again. The girl you once knew has grown into someone so driven, so ambitious, that it’s almost intimidating. She seems untouchable, like a shooting star too far away to reach.

But every now and then, the cracks in her polished armor show. When it’s just the two of you poring over notes at your kitchen table, she leans back with a sigh and pulls her hair into a ponytail, muttering about how she wishes she had more time to breathe. And when you laugh at her frustrations, she throws a crumpled piece of paper at you, her grin wide and mischievous.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” she says one evening, her eyes soft as they meet yours. “Still the only person who can make me laugh when I want to scream.”

It’s during one of these late-night sessions that the air between you shifts. You’re sitting on the floor of her family’s impossibly grand living room, surrounded by papers and laptops. She’s wearing a sweatshirt that’s too big for her, a far cry from the polished image she presents to the world, and you can’t help but think about how beautiful she looks like this—unguarded and real.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she says, tilting her head to look at you. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” you lie, your heart racing under her gaze.

She raises an eyebrow, leaning closer. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying.”

You hesitate, your pulse hammering in your ears. “It’s just… I can’t believe you’re here. That after all these years, we’re… us again.”

Her expression softens, and she shifts closer until your knees are almost touching. “I’ve missed you too, you know,” she says quietly. “It’s been so hard, being away from everything I used to care about. From you.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy and electric. You want to say something—anything—but the way she’s looking at you steals the breath from your lungs. Her dark eyes search yours, and for a moment, the world seems to still.

“Do you ever think about those nights we spent under the stars?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, swallowing hard. “All the time.”

“I do too,” she admits, her hand reaching out to brush against yours. Her touch is warm, grounding, and yet it sends a jolt through you. “Back then, I always thought we’d have forever. And when I left, I realized how much I hated being wrong about that.”

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly the space between you disappears. Her hand lingers on yours, her thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin, and you’re acutely aware of how close her face is to yours.

“Tell me if this is okay,” she murmurs, her voice trembling just slightly.

You nod, barely able to speak. “It’s more than okay.”

And then her lips are on yours, soft and hesitant at first, like she’s afraid you’ll pull away. But you don’t. You lean into her, your hand sliding up to tangle in her hair, and the kiss deepens—sweet and full of years’ worth of unspoken feelings.

When you finally pull back, she rests her forehead against yours, a breathless smile on her lips. “I’ve waited so long to do that,” she says, her voice tinged with relief.

“Me too,” you whisper, your heart soaring.

As the night stretches on, you realize that the girl you thought you’d lost has come back into your life, not as the same person she once was, but as someone even more extraordinary. And for the first time in years, the future doesn’t feel so uncertain—it feels full of possibilities, with her by your side.

— New kid!jinx and Class president!reader

You’ve worked hard to get where you are. Every meeting attended, every speech prepared, every carefully crafted decision—it’s all been for the sake of keeping order in the chaos of your high school. As class president, your name carries weight. You’re the dependable one, the one who keeps everything running smoothly, the one who always has things under control.

Until Jinx shows up.

The whispers start on her first day. The new girl. The one who doesn’t seem to care about blending in. She strides into the building like she owns it, her uniform already disheveled, her blazer slung over her shoulder, and a wild grin on her face.

It doesn’t take long for her reputation to spread. She’s unpredictable, impulsive, and utterly magnetic. Within a week, she’s already broken half the school’s rules, talked her way out of three detentions, and somehow charmed half your classmates in the process.

And for some reason, she’s decided you’re her favorite target.

It happens during lunch. You’re sitting at your usual spot, surrounded by student council members, going over plans for the upcoming fundraiser when she walks up to your table.

“Class president,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery and something else you can’t quite place. “Mind if I join you?”

You glance up, already annoyed. “I’m busy.”

She smirks, pulling out a chair anyway. “That’s cute. You think I was asking.”

Your friends exchange uneasy glances, but she doesn’t seem to care. She leans back in the chair, her sharp pink eyes locked on you, as if she’s trying to unravel you with her gaze alone.

“You’ve got a real stick-up-your-ass vibe,” she says casually, plucking an apple from the tray in front of her. “I like that. It makes messing with you way more fun.”

You glare at her, trying to keep your composure. “Do you need something, or are you just here to waste my time?”

Her grin widens, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something wild and untamed in her expression. “Maybe I just like watching you squirm.”

She becomes a constant in your life after that. You find her waiting outside your classroom, lounging against your locker, or casually walking into student council meetings as if she belongs there.

“Do you ever stop?” you snap one afternoon, cornering her in the hallway after she’s disrupted yet another meeting.

“Stop what?” she asks innocently, tilting her head.

“Whatever game you’re playing.”

She steps closer, and for the first time, you notice just how intense her gaze is. “Who says it’s a game? Maybe I just like you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and electric, and before you can respond, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you standing there, utterly baffled.

It’s not until much later that you start to see the cracks in her chaotic facade. One night, you find her sitting alone in the empty music room, the piano keys beneath her fingers. She’s not playing, just pressing random notes, her usual manic energy replaced by a quiet stillness.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say, stepping into the room.

She doesn’t look up. “Neither should you.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I bet you think I’m crazy.”

You hesitate, caught off guard by the vulnerability in her voice. “I think you’re reckless and impulsive and… exhausting. But no, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

She finally looks up at you, her eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. “You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

“I’m not nice,” you counter. “I just… I think there’s more to you than the act you put on.”

Her lips twitch into a small, almost shy smile. “Careful, president. You keep saying things like that, and I might start to believe you.”

The more time you spend around her, the more you realize how deeply she feels everything. Her chaos isn’t just for show—it’s a shield, a way to keep people from getting too close. But with you, she starts to let her guard down.

One evening, she shows up outside your house, her hair messy and her eyes wild. “Come with me,” she says, grabbing your hand.

“Where are we going?” you ask, letting her drag you down the street.

“Anywhere,” she replies, her grip tight. “Everywhere. I don’t care.”

You end up at the park, sitting on a swingset as the stars blink overhead. She’s unusually quiet, her hands gripping the chains tightly as she stares at the ground.

“You ever feel like you’re spinning out of control?” she asks suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at her, surprised by the question. “Sometimes.”

She exhales shakily, her fingers brushing against yours. “You… you make it stop. Just for a little while.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t know if it’s the raw honesty in her words or the way her fingers linger against yours, but you feel something shift between you.

It happens later that night, as you’re walking her home. She stops in front of her house, turning to face you with an unreadable expression.

“Why do you put up with me?” she asks suddenly, her voice soft.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a mess,” she says, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I break things, I hurt people… I’m not like you. I’m not good.”

“You’re not perfect,” you admit, stepping closer. “But you’re not as bad as you think you are, either.”

She looks up at you, her eyes shining with something you can’t quite name. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

“Maybe,” you say with a small smile. “But I don’t think so.”

Before you can overthink it, you lean in, your lips brushing against hers. She freezes for a moment, like she’s caught off guard, but then she kisses you back, her hands clutching at your sleeves as if you’re the only solid thing in her world.

When you finally pull back, her face is flushed, and she’s breathing hard. “You’re insane,” she mutters, though there’s no heat in her words.

“Takes one to know one,” you reply, grinning.

She laughs, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time, you feel like you’ve truly seen her—every broken, beautiful piece of her.

—Troublemaker!sevika and Tutor!reader

You weren’t thrilled when your teacher assigned you as her tutor. You’d heard all the rumors: skipped classes, biting comebacks that left people reeling, and a permanent spot on the troublemaker watchlist.

Her reputation painted her as unteachable, untamable, and entirely uninterested in anything resembling authority. When your teacher insisted she “just needed guidance,” you couldn’t help but feel skeptical.

The first session confirmed it.

She slouched into the library ten minutes late, her bag dragging on the floor, and dropped into the chair across from you with a loud huff.

“Look,” she said before you could even greet her, “I don’t need some perfect little know-it-all telling me what to do.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I’m just here to help.”

“Sure,” she scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “Let’s get this over with.”

Her tone was cutting, her expression bored, and yet… there was something about her. A quiet intensity lurking beneath the surface, like she was daring you to break through her tough exterior.

Each session felt like a test of patience. She was sharp, no question about it, but her attitude made every interaction a battle.

“You’re not even trying,” you said one afternoon after she tossed her pen aside for the third time.

Her eyes snapped to yours, hard and unyielding. “Don’t act like you know me,” she said coldly. “You think I don’t try? You think I don’t bust my ass every single day?”

You froze, startled by the edge in her voice.

She leaned forward, her gaze cutting through you like a blade. “I don’t need this. I don’t need you. I’m here because they told me to be.”

For a moment, you considered walking away. But then you saw it—just the faintest flicker of something vulnerable beneath her defiance.

“You’re right,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “I don’t know you. But I know you’re capable of more than this.”

Her jaw tightened, and she looked away, her fingers drumming on the table. “Whatever,” she muttered.

But she didn’t leave.

Slowly, things started to shift. She showed up on time—barely. She started taking notes—reluctantly. And every so often, she’d let her tough exterior slip, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the real her.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling session, you handed her a worksheet.

“You’re getting better,” you said, offering her a small smile.

She snorted. “Don’t get all sentimental on me.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying you’re improving.”

“Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath for a thank-you card,” she replied, but there was a hint of a smirk on her lips.

Her walls were still up, but they were starting to crack.

It happened on a rare quiet day in the library. She was hunched over her notebook, her brow furrowed as she worked through a particularly tricky problem.

“Got it,” she said suddenly, sitting up straight.

“Really?” you asked, leaning over to check her work.

She shoved the notebook toward you, her smirk firmly in place. “Told you I’m not dumb.”

“I never said you were dumb,” you replied, meeting her gaze. “You just make things harder than they need to be.”

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I like a challenge.”

“Or maybe you’re just stubborn,” you teased.

Her smirk softened, just for a moment. “Takes one to know one, princess.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way she said it, her voice low and almost… fond.

After weeks of late afternoons spent together, you found yourself walking her home one evening. The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the quiet streets.

“You’re not as bad as I thought,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You blinked, surprised. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Don’t push your luck,” she shot back, though her tone lacked its usual bite.

When you reached her house, she stopped at the gate, turning to face you. Her usual confidence wavered, just slightly.

“Why do you bother with me?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

“Because I see how hard you work,” you said honestly. “And because I think there’s more to you than what you let people see.”

She stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without warning, she stepped closer, her hand brushing yours.

“You’re a real pain, you know that?” she murmured, her voice soft but firm.

Before you could respond, she leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was as bold and unapologetic as she was.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, but her smirk was firmly in place.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, turning toward her door.

You smiled, your heart racing. “Too late."

—Artist!ekko and Muse!reader

It was one of those golden autumn afternoons, the kind where the sunlight made everything look softer, warmer, like it belonged in a painting. You’d escaped to the park during your lunch break, clutching a well-worn book in one hand and a coffee in the other. It wasn’t the first time you’d come here for a little peace and quiet, but it felt like one of the rare times you’d actually get it.

You settled on a bench near the fountain, a cozy corner of the park where the only sounds were the gentle trickle of water and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

The moment you opened your book, however, you felt it—a faint, almost electric sensation prickling at the edge of your awareness. Someone was watching you.

Glancing up, you spotted him.

He was sitting on the grass a few yards away, sketchpad balanced on his knees, pencil flying across the page. His hair fell messily across his forehead, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal forearms speckled with faint smears of paint. Despite the chaos of his appearance, his focus was absolute, his gaze darting between you and the paper as if you were some rare discovery he couldn’t afford to lose.

You furrowed your brow, unsure whether to feel flattered or alarmed. “Can I help you?” you called, your voice cutting through the quiet.

He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and stood quickly.

“Sorry,” he said, striding toward you. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

His voice was smooth, tinged with an earnestness that made it hard to stay annoyed.

“I’m an artist,” he explained, gesturing to his sketchpad. “I know this sounds weird, but you’ve got this… look. The way you’re sitting, the way the light hits you—it’s perfect.”

“Perfect?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“For a piece I’m working on,” he clarified, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Do you mind if I sketch you? Just for a little while.”

You hesitated, studying him. He didn’t look like a creep—just young, maybe a little unkempt, with an intensity in his eyes that was hard to ignore.

“I’m not really dressed for a portrait,” you said, gesturing to your casual sweater and jeans.

He smiled, and the way his face softened surprised you. “It’s not about the clothes. It’s the way you carry yourself.”

The compliment was unexpected, and it caught you off guard. “Alright,” you said slowly. “But just for a few minutes.”

“Great,” he said, dropping to the bench across from you with a grin that felt like the sun breaking through the clouds

It turned out he was a prodigy, a young artist with a growing reputation in the city. His work had been featured in galleries, and he’d even won a few prestigious awards. But for all his talent, he was surprisingly down-to-earth.

“I don’t really like the whole ‘genius’ label,” he admitted one afternoon after convincing you to pose for him again. “It just makes people think I’ve got everything figured out. But most of the time, I’m just trying to keep up with my own ideas.”

You quickly realized that his art wasn’t just a skill—it was his lifeline. He spoke about it the way others might talk about breathing. And for some reason, he’d decided that you were his muse.

“Why me?” you asked one day as he sketched you in his studio. The walls were covered with half-finished canvases, each one brimming with vivid colors and raw emotion.

He glanced up from his sketchbook, his eyes soft but focused. “You’ve got something about you,” he said simply. “A kind of… light. I can’t explain it, but when I see you, I want to create.”

His honesty was disarming. There was no pretense in his words, no calculated charm. He spoke as though his heart was an open book, and every word was written in your honor.

“Do you say that to all your muses?” you teased, trying to lighten the moment.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I’ve never had one before you.”

As time went on, you got to know him beyond his talent. He was fiercely independent, refusing to rely on anyone for his success. His compassion, however, was what surprised you most. He spent his weekends teaching art classes at a local youth center, his eyes lighting up as he helped kids discover their own creativity.

“They’ve got so much potential,” he said once, his voice filled with quiet pride. “They just need someone to believe in them.”

It was clear that he poured himself into everything he did, whether it was a painting, a lesson, or simply spending time with you.

One evening, he invited you to his studio after hours. The space was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of paint and turpentine.

“I want to show you something,” he said, guiding you to the center of the room where a large canvas stood covered by a cloth.

With a dramatic flourish, he pulled the cloth away, revealing a breathtaking painting. It was you—your pose, your expression, every detail captured with such tenderness that it felt like staring into a mirror of your soul.

“Is that… me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his gaze steady. “It’s not just you,” he said softly. “It’s how I see you. Strong, radiant… inspiring.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“It’s beautiful,” you said finally, your voice thick with emotion.

“So are you,” he replied, his lips curling into a small, genuine smile.

There was no grand confession, no dramatic moment where everything changed. Instead, your relationship grew in quiet, unspoken ways. The way he brought you coffee when you visited his studio. The way he asked for your opinion on his work, genuinely valuing your thoughts. The way his hand would brush against yours when he passed you a sketchbook, his touch lingering just a second too long.

One day, as you sat together in the park where you’d first met, he turned to you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, “I’m not sure I’d be able to do this without you.”

“Do what?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Create,” he replied simply. “You make it… easier to believe in myself.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering at his honesty. “I think you’d do just fine on your own.”

“Maybe,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “But I don’t want to.”

—Bestfriend!jayce

The two of you had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. From elementary school to your final year of high school, your lives had been stitched together with countless shared moments—late-night study sessions, chaotic group projects, and lazy afternoons spent at the local diner. You were the grounded one, the planner, while he was the dreamer.

He was everything you admired in a person: ambitious, creative, and unrelentingly passionate about making the world a better place. Whether he was organizing a charity event for the school or advocating for a greener campus, he didn’t just talk about change—he embodied it.

“Alright, hear me out,” he said one afternoon as you sat in your favorite spot in the school library. His voice was alive with energy, his words spilling out faster than you could process them.

You glanced up from your notes, already bracing yourself. “This is going to be another one of your big ideas, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” he said with a grin. “It’s what I do best.”

He leaned forward, spreading out a sketchbook filled with colorful doodles and bold handwriting. Each page was a mix of blueprints, campaign slogans, and notes for an initiative he wanted to pitch to the student council.

“I’m telling you, if we can pull this off, it could really make a difference. We could partner with local businesses, raise money for community programs, and even involve the younger students—”

“You’re going a hundred miles an hour again,” you interrupted gently, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Not when I’m onto something good,” he replied without missing a beat.

That was him in a nutshell: a whirlwind of ideas and determination, always moving forward. It was both inspiring and exhausting to keep up with him, but somehow, you always did.

For all his big ideas and boundless enthusiasm, he had a softer side too—a side he reserved just for you.

One Friday night, he showed up outside your house, honking his car horn until you came outside in your pajamas.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, glancing around to make sure your neighbors weren’t watching.

“Get in,” he said with a grin, leaning out of the driver’s side window. “I need your opinion on something.”

“You’re insane,” you muttered, but you climbed into the passenger seat anyway.

He drove to a quiet hill on the outskirts of town, parking near an old tree you’d both claimed as “your spot” years ago. He pulled out a notebook from his bag and handed it to you.

“These are my ideas for the youth outreach program,” he said. “I need to know if I’m being too ambitious.”

You flipped through the pages, your heart warming as you saw the effort he’d poured into every word and sketch.

“This is incredible,” you said softly. “You’re not just ambitious—you’re inspiring. People are going to listen to you.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. “You really think so?”

“Always,” you said, your voice firm.

For a split second, you thought he might reach out to take your hand, but instead, he leaned back, staring up at the stars. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

After particularly grueling school days, he’d find you at your locker, holding out your favorite drink or snack without a word. When the stress of finals hit, he’d sit beside you in the library, quietly working through his own assignments while offering words of encouragement.

And then there were the moments when his usual confidence wavered.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” he asked one evening as you sat on the hood of his car, staring up at the stars.

The two of you had just spent hours planning his latest project, a school-wide fundraiser for a local shelter. Despite his ambitious plans, his voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.

“You? Crazy?” you teased, nudging him playfully. “Absolutely.”

He laughed softly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t completely fade.

“Seriously, though,” he said, turning to you. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m aiming too high. Like, what if I can’t actually pull all this off? What if I fail?”

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You won’t fail. You’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. And even if something doesn’t work out the way you planned, it doesn’t mean you failed. It just means you’re brave enough to try again.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the air between you felt heavier, charged with something unspoken.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The moment lingered, and as he pulled back, his hands stayed on your shoulders. His gaze searched yours, and for the first time, you saw a vulnerability there that he usually kept hidden.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while now,” he began, his voice soft but steady.

Your breath caught. “What is it?”

“I don’t just care about you as a friend,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I mean, I do, but it’s more than that. You’ve always been my anchor, the one person who gets me, who believes in me even when I doubt myself.”

Your heart raced, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. “I think I’ve always felt the same way,” you said quietly.

Relief washed over his face, followed by a smile so genuine it made your chest ache.

“Then we’re in this together,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Like always.”

From that day on, your friendship transformed into something deeper, something stronger. His dreams grew bigger, but now, they weren’t just his—they were yours too. Together, you were unstoppable, a team bound by shared passion and a love that had been years in the making.

Whether it was planning for college or brainstorming ways to change the world, one thing was certain: with him by your side, anything felt possible.

—Enemies to lovers!viktor and reader

From the moment the new kid transferred to your school, it was as if the universe had dropped a puzzle piece into the wrong spot. He was a contradiction: introverted yet razor-sharp in class discussions, quiet but with an undercurrent of passion that seemed to burst through in unexpected moments. His snarky comebacks and aloof demeanor were practically tailor-made to clash with your confident, no-nonsense approach to everything.

You couldn’t help but notice how he kept his distance from everyone else, often retreating to the farthest corner of the library or lab. Despite his unassuming presence, he somehow managed to infuriate you with his brilliance. Teachers fawned over him, classmates whispered about him, and you? You glared daggers at him every time he raised his hand in class to counter one of your arguments.

The first real confrontation happened in science class. It was a group project, and your teacher, in a cruel twist of fate, paired you with him.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath.

He barely glanced at you as he set down his notebook, already flipping through its pages. “It’s not my favorite pairing either, but let’s just get this done.”

His tone was clipped, and his eyes barely met yours.

“Oh, so we’re starting with passive-aggressive remarks? Good to know where we stand,” you shot back, folding your arms.

He sighed, finally looking at you. “Look, I don’t care if you like me or not. I care about getting an A on this project. If you want to argue, fine, but at least do it while we’re running the experiment.”

His bluntness took you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless. But you quickly recovered, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you take over.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he muttered under his breath, already scribbling in his notebook.

Working together was like a storm brewing in slow motion. You were both stubborn and headstrong, constantly butting heads over the smallest details.

“Why are you doing it that way?” you snapped one afternoon as he adjusted the settings on the experiment’s apparatus.

“Because it’s the correct way,” he replied without looking up.

“You didn’t even let me explain my idea!”

“Your idea would’ve blown up the circuit.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“Let me guess—you’re the kind of person who thinks trial and error is the only way to learn?”

He finally turned to face you, a faint smirk playing at his lips “And you’re the kind of person who thinks you’re always right,”

The tension crackled like static electricity, but neither of you backed down.

It wasn’t until a late-night study session in the empty library that things started to shift. The project deadline was looming, and you’d reluctantly agreed to meet outside of school to finish your work.

He was unusually quiet that night, his usual snark absent as he stared intently at the data on his laptop.

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence. “You okay?”

He hesitated, his fingers pausing on the keyboard. “Just tired. And frustrated. I want this to be perfect.”

Something in his tone softened your usual defensiveness. “You know, it doesn’t have to be perfect. You’re allowed to mess up sometimes.”

He gave a faint, humorless laugh. “Not really. Not when people are counting on me.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard. For the first time, you saw past the walls he’d built around himself—the pressure he carried, the weight of expectations.

“I didn’t realize you were dealing with so much,” you said quietly.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Why would you? We’ve been too busy trying to outsmart each other.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Fair point. Maybe we should call a truce—for now.”

He smiled, just barely, and it was the first time you’d seen him let his guard down.

As the project progressed, the two of you started to find common ground. You discovered his love for science wasn’t just about theories and equations—it was about helping people.

“Why are you so passionate about this?” you asked one day as he carefully calibrated a piece of equipment.

He hesitated, then said, “Because I want to make a difference. I has a chronic illness, and I’ve spent years struggling with treatments that barely work. I want to change that for me, and for anyone else going through the same thing.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You’d always thought of him as cold and detached, but now, you saw the fire that drove him.

“That’s… incredible,” you said softly.

He shrugged, his cheeks tinged with color. “It’s just what I care about. What about you? What drives you?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. But as you opened up about your own dreams and ambitions, you realized something had shifted between you.

On the night before the project was due, you were sitting in his garage, putting the final touches on your presentation. It was late, and the two of you were running on caffeine and adrenaline.

“Here,” he said, handing you a mug of tea. “You’re going to burn out if you keep pushing yourself.”

“Look who’s talking,” you teased, taking the mug.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the garage filling the space.

“You’re not so bad, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your idea of a compliment?”

He smiled faintly, looking down at his hands. “I mean it. I’ve never met anyone who challenges me the way you do. It’s… refreshing.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you looked away, pretending to focus on the data. “Well, don’t get used to it. I’m not going easy on you just because you’re finally being nice.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, and there was a softness in his tone that made your heart race.

[allbeautydestroyed]

We almost made it there this year but weren’t quite up to the hike in the end. Looking at these photos I regret it a bit.

Three Castle Head by Abby Farson Pratt

[lightheaded-dullahan]

Heya! Was looking at your banner again and was wondering if you had any headcanons for Schez and Hans if they interacted more? What do you like most about their dynamic?

(Visibly shaking like a chihuahua) no I don’t have any whatsoever

- HCA did read 1001 Nights as a child (according to recounts of his childhood), and considering some of his stories I wouldn’t be surprised he took some inspiration from it! So I like to imagine in Fate, Hans is actually a big fan of Scheherazade!

- following that, I like to think when she first showed up in Chaldea, he was actually rather shy about meeting her. Like how you’d be shy upon meeting an idol. I think she’d be equally as shy considering she has a low self image upon arriving due to her past and actions, so having someone who read her stories and inspired them would probably be a little overwhelming.

- ultimately I think she and Hans get along pretty well, but I think their biggest tension would be along the lines of how pointed his criticisms can be and in return how destructive her self preservation can become.

- amongst the writers I think they have the closest style and so I can imagine them sharing recommendations more regularly.

- it’s far more headcanon than based on their actual appearances, but I sometimes like to think Scheherazade and Hans have a mentor-student relationship - more on the casual side since they remain in a similar position of power but in that Hans admires her as a writer.

- I can also see a romantic relationship , but I don’t think either of them is capable of being sexually imitate. Mainly due to both their traumas relating to sexual situations (very different traumas for clarification). I also don’t really see either of them as interested in that sort of thing in a relationship. It’s a bit harder to imagine it without some serious body dysphoria on Hans’ part due to being placed in a younger body (if we’re using his normal body and not the one from the summer event, that one is the one I imagine most would prefer to use here though) and the effects of his Innocent Monster and also his historic issues , which may slow any progression for a long time.

- ultimately though, I think they two could find the place to see each other as confidants.

[scotland]

Sunset over Ceann Hulavig stone circle on the Isle of Lewis 🌅

Ceann Hulavig is an ancient stone circle located on the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, Scotland. This prehistoric site, also known as the Callanish IV stone circle, is part of a broader collection of megalithic structures known collectively as the Calanais Stones (or Callanish Stones). The Ceann Hulavig circle consists of standing stones arranged in a circular pattern and dates back to the Neolithic period, approximately between 3000 and 2000 BCE.

The Calanais Stones are a significant archaeological ensemble comprising several stone circles, standing stones, and other prehistoric structures scattered across the region. The primary and most famous site is the Calanais I, which features a central stone circle with a cruciform arrangement of monoliths extending from it. These ancient monuments are believed to have been constructed for ceremonial or ritualistic purposes, and they are aligned in ways that suggest an astronomical function, possibly related to lunar and solar cycles.

The exact purpose of the Calanais Stones remains a subject of ongoing research and debate. Theories suggest they could have served as a place of worship, a community gathering site, or an ancient astronomical observatory. The alignment of the stones indicates a sophisticated understanding of astronomy among the Neolithic people who built them.

Ceann Hulavig, like the other Calanais sites, offers valuable insights into the prehistoric past and the spiritual and social lives of the ancient inhabitants of the Isle of Lewis. These sites continue to attract researchers, historians, and tourists, drawn by their historical significance and the mystery that still surrounds their original use.

[jeanzoriley-cod]

Soooo. Are you and Rudy gonna kiss? Not because I also bet someone you guys would.

How many o' there are ye?? Where did ye all come from? Who is makin' these bets? I guess ye would 'ave ta ask Rudy tha' question also. I wouldn't want ta just spring it on 'im, ye know?

Mar sin féin, ní miste liom dá n-imreodh sé ceann amháin orm.

@las-almas-border-patrol, anythin' ta add?

[ceeaann]

She posted guys 🥳🎉🎉

I was all over her , daniela avanzini x fem!reader / sophia laforteza x fem!reader

A valentine special with @ceeaann!!

Warning ! Foul words, harassment, mentions of drinking and also not proofread

Disclaimer ! Every person is not an accurate portrayal of themselves. Everything written here is pure fiction.

Synopsis ! You and Daniela's friendship hang on by a thread, after Daniela's crush, Aaron, had started courting you— even though you had never consented to it.

Now playing ! Friends by chase atlantic, I was all over her by salvie palth

A/N : Sorry about the vague ahh synopsis I genuinely cannot think of one rn so we gotta live w this

Collab masterlist !

WC — 7.05k

Daniela subconsciously tightens her jaw at the sight of you and Aaron together. The girl scoffs, and stuffs her books into her locker. Lara, her best friend, whistles at Daniela’s sudden burst of annoyance.

‘’Girl you good?’’ Lara says, a giggle accompanying her words. Daniela looks to her left, and sees Lara with a smug smile, also stuffing her books into her own locker.

‘’It’s just Y/n and Aaron again.. Ugh.’’

You were one of Daniela’s best friends, and you still are, but ever since Aaron, Daniela’s crush had started courting you, the Latina started drifting away, your friendship hanging by a string.

Daniela, who had told you about her crush on the boy, felt disappointed you allowed him to court you. But you were just too nice to stay mad at, too unimaginably sweet towards Daniela. So the Latina could do nothing but mope about her crush courting you.

‘’I mean, Y/n is nice but like.. I told her about it! I wanna stay mad but she’s so sickeningly sweet, I just couldn’t.’’ Lara indulges Daniela and while the two of them were only a couple meters away from you, they didn’t notice the uncomfort you tried your best not to show out of kindness.

There you were, getting pestered by Aaron for the nth time today. The boy hovered around you like some sort of annoying fly. You felt bad calling the boy that, but he just couldn’t take no as an answer for some reason.

‘’Come on Y/n. Please? Just to lunch this saturday, I pinky promise I won’t bother you for the next few days… unless of course, you want me to.’’ The 6’1 boy says as he offers you yet another rose. Good God, this was like what— the third time he’s tried this week? And it was fucking Tuesday.

‘’I already told you Aaron, I can’t. Can you please stop pressing?’’ You said as you closed your locker with a bang, and Aaron’s smug smile falters for a second, before strengthening itself.

‘’It’s fine. You’ll say yes soon.’’ The boy winks, and heads back to his friends. You wanted to roll your eyes, but your social status was at risk.

Aaron was the schools star quarterback, good looking, tall, and confident. He was every girls ‘’dream’’ guy. That however, didn’t affect you one bit. Because you already had somebody you liked, and this guy just wasn’t picking up on that.

You turned away from him, and noticed Daniela and Lara just a couple meters away from you. You took initiative to wave at the two, with a sweet smile on your face. Lara waves back at you with the same enthusiasm, but Daniela had this awkward vibe around her as she tried to return your gesture.

You turned away, saddened, but you knew why. Daniela told you she had a crush on Aaron a couple weeks ago. Ever since the brown haired boy had started bothering you, Daniela began to maintain distance. It hurt you. Did she really think so little of you?

Besides, she knew you liked someone else. Someone who definitely wasn’t Aaron. As you walked away, someone put their arm around you all of a sudden, and the scent of fresh citrus perfume notified you which one of your friends it was.

‘’Megan! You twat, I almost fell!’’ Megan rolls her eyes, telling you being overdramatic wasn’t a lifestyle. If someone paid you to pummel this girl right now, you would do it for free.

The ginger continued to ramble on about how her physics teacher was an asshole for making them do a paper on rocks. “Goddamn rocks Y/n! Can you imagine me reporting that? Oh yeah, rocks are hard and cool and bland.” To which you replied with,

“He probably meant minerals, Megan. Not straight up bland rocks you idiot. Were you even paying attention?” Megan looked at you with a blank expression. Good God there was not a single thought behind those eyes.

“You're probably right but I don't wanna give you the satisfaction so I'm gonna say you're wrong.” You sighed. Megan was like this every day, so you weren't even surprised anymore.

As the ginger continued ranting about her day— which was kind of crazy because its only been a couple of hours since school had started, and the fact that this girl could ramble about three classes was interesting. You wanted to study how her brain works.

Megan noticed you were too quiet— the sassy attitude you always had just wasn't there. So the ginger paused, and you knew she was silently signaling you that if you wanted to talk, she was listening. You sighed, beginning your rant.

“Aaron’s… all over me again. Daniela has been avoiding me more and more, and it's starting to piss me off. I never even allowed Aaron to court me, yet she's assuming I did! I've been trying to tell her, even saying it straight to her damn face. But for some reason she still thinks I said yes to Aaron in some way. Good God, after being friends for years, you think she'd notice I didn't like men!! Much more, that I like her!!!” Megan patted your back, knowing the whole Daniela situation had been disastrous for you.

Megan stops, and you continue walking. After a second or two, you notice the girl was a couple steps behind you, just frozen there.

“Megan? Why'd you stop—”

“I JUST HAD THE GREATEST IDEA IN HISTORY. Y/N L/N KISS ME RIGHT NOW!!” The ginger yelled, in the damn hallway. You looked around, embarrassed for the both of you. You hurried to her and slapped the back of her neck, reminding her to behave in public.

Other students in the hallway laughed, but most barely noticed, already used to Megan's antics. She was popular as a “class clown”, so it wasn't new to them at all.

You then told Megan to drop her “million dollar” idea. The girl snickered, and replied,

“What if… hear me out… you… move on!”

Oh my God is she asking— no, begging for a taste of school floor right now?

“Megan Meiyok Skiendiel.”

“No no, hear me out! At least try. If it doesn't work, it doesn't. If it does, it does! Try giving someone else a chance. I know like 10 people who'd be willing to be your carpet.” Megan said as she raised her hands in defense. You narrowed your eyes, and rolled them right after.

“Fine. I'll… consider it. And these people you're talking about better be women. I swear to God Megan, if you recommend men to me, I'll fucking kill you for real.” The ginger saluted, and the two of you continued walking to class, talking about whatever on the way.

It has been a week since you and Megan had that conversation in the middle of the school hallway. The girl said she's been thinking about who to send your way, and honestly? You were starting to open up to this idea. Maybe it would do you some good to at least try.

You were sitting on the cafeteria table alone, waiting for Megan and Yoonchae, the recent exchange student who Megan practically adopted, to arrive. Finally, the two were within view, but much to your very unfortunate luck, so was Aaron. Oh you could feel the gaze from behind you. You just knew Daniela was probably giving you dirty looks right now.

“Hey sweet pea!” The boy waves at you, and you physically cringed. Who the fuck calls their crush “sweet pea”?? Your friends looked behind them and saw that Aaron was also on his way to you.

As the two arrive at your table, so does Aaron. The brunet brought you chocolate milk, to which you say thank you. The boy responds by flirting with you yet again.

“You're welcome pretty.” The boy rushes off to his friends as soon as the interaction was over. And once he was out of earshot, you slid the chocolate milk to Megan. The ginger took it with a smile, thanking Aaron for being sweet yet stupid.

Daniela watched the whole interaction from a distance, mildly annoyed but also slightly confused. You didn't like chocolate milk, so why didn't Aaron know that? Good God, he should do his research.

“She likes strawberry milk, not chocolate milk…” The blonde whispers to herself, which Lara catches.

“How'd you know that?” Daniela looks up, meeting Lara's gaze.

“Because we've been friends for years? It's common knowledge once you get close to her.” Lara gives Daniela a suspicious look, and hums, letting the matter go. Lara hit Manon, the girl right next to her, with her elbow. Manon, annoyed, drew her attention away from her phone.

Manon silently asked, “What?!”, and Lara signaled to you and Daniela. Manon rolls her eyes, whispering,

“She'll figure it out soon enough.”

Back at your table, Megan was yapping about, you and Yoonchae stuck listening to this monster yap like her life depended on it.

Everything proceeded as it always did, whenall of a sudden, Sopia Laforteza, one of Megan's friends, approaches your table.

“Room for one more?” Sophia said as she pointed at the seat next to you. You weren't sure if it was Sophia being friendly, or if she was someone Megan sent your way.

You glanced at Megan, and her small snicker gave you your answer. You thought about it for a moment.

Sophia Laforteza, the student body president. Kind, smart, and amazing in every way. Was she seriously into you? It seemed too good to be true.

Even if you hadn't moved on from Daniela yet, the girl's grip on your heart still as strong as ever, you were willing to try.

“Yeah, take a seat.” You said as you scooted a couple inches away. Sophia sends you a warm smile, and takes her seat.

“So, what were you guys talking about?” Megan answers before you could, telling Sophia it was about her recent math class with stupid groupmates. Yoonchae rolls her eyes, telling Sophia there was no set topic. Just whatever Megan thought of at the moment.

After a couple minutes of talking, Megan decides the food she bought today wasn't enough. The ginger said she'll be right back, and Yoonchae joins Megan, saying she wants more mango juice.

That left you all alone with Sophia. It was not or never.

“So.. Sophia.. did Megan really, uh— send you my way?” Awkward silence filled the air, and Sophia broke it with a sweet giggle.

“Yeah, she did.” You let out a soft and silent laugh as well, before pausing and looking at Sophia seriously.

“I don't know if you knew this, but i already like someone else and—”

“You wanted to move on, yes? I know Y/n, Megan told me. And I quite frankly don't care. I'll woo you in every way possible, so don't worry your pretty little head about it, yeah?” Pink was an understatement. You were probably as red as a cherry right now, especially because you didn't expect Sophia to be so flirty.

You pulled yourself together, reminding yourself its only been a few minutes since you’ve started talking.

“You’d have to try really hard then.’’ Sophia looked at you with a soft smile, staring at your eyes with a sense of longing.

“What made you think I wasn’t going to give it my all?’’ Okay, being flustered was totally not your thing. The two of you continued talking, a slight tension appearing every now and then. Until finally, Megan and Yoonchae arrived with more food and drinks.

Daniela, Lara, and Manon got up from their seats, already finished with their food. Daniela glances at your table, and sees you chatting away with Sophia. The Latina pays no mind to it, thinking it was just friendly interaction. But Lara, however, noticed. The Indian, always equipped with the best instincts when it comes to love, easily noticed the way Sophia looked at you, the way she seemingly gravitated towards you, and the way her overall body language basically screamed “I LIKE YOU!!’’.

You walked by Aaron, already prepared for the boys pestering. As if on cue, Aaron calls your name, and you reluctantly turn around.

“Y/n! Hey! Wait up!’’ The boy jogs towards you to catch up, and offers you a piece of paper. You look at him weird, until you realize it was his fucking number.

“Look.. I just very recently realized we’ve never exchanged numbers. Just hit me up, I’m free for you any day baby girl.’’ You laughed awkwardly, and tried to end the conversation, but Aaron kept pushing, telling you to just say yes to his date planned for Saturday.

Just as you were, once again, gonna turn the boy down, Sophia unexpectedly stepped in.

“Hey Y/n! Oh and… Aaron. Hi. Sorry, I have important matters to attend to with Y/n, can I take her away for a while?” Sophia had this stern and commanding stare, accompanied with a friendly smile.

Before Aaron could respond, you clung onto Sophia's side, and told Aaron you both should really get going. When the boy asked why, Sophia sternly responded it was “personal matters”. 

After a couple minutes of walking away from the boy, you let go of Sophia's hand, apologizing.

“Uh… sorry. And thank you.” Sophia told you it was nothing, and followed up with a question.

“It's fine, really. Also, if you're comfortable with it, why is he still bothering you? I heard rumours about you and him, saying you agreed to the courting. The interaction I just witnessed says otherwise. Mind telling me why?”

“I honestly don’t know why he keeps persisting. I very clearly said no, multiple times even. Guess he never really got the hint.’’ Sophia hummed,

“Just let me know if you need help. I’ll be your knight in shining armor.’’ The Filipina said with a light and joking tone, softening the once tense atmosphere.

“Oh, gladly. I can’t believe men like him actually exist.’’ You sighed, and shaked your head.

“Let’s change topics. Why’d you approach me?’’ Sophia shifts her gaze to the direction they were heading.

“I noticed you were uncomfortable. I didn’t have anything to tell you, just thought you needed some help.’’ You nodded, thankful for the girl's help.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to class.’’ The girl said as she held her hand out. You took it with no hesitation, a smile appearing on both your faces.

It was currently 11pm. An ungodly time to be out and about, especially at some random person's party. You weren't exactly the party type, unless you of course, had some steam you needed to blow off.

But today wasn't that type of day. You had no problems to run from, no nothing. You were dragged by Megan and Yoonchae to attend this party hosted by— what was their name again? 

Jennifer. You were at a party hosted by a friend's friend's friend, Jennifer Huh.

In all honesty, if you could, you would have left this place ages ago. But you couldn't say no to Megan's puppy eyes, asking you to pretty please drive her home.

Now, you weren't exactly sure where the ginger was right now. She and Yoonchae had left you by yourself about an hour ago.

You were just sitting there, at the corner of Jennifer's house, looking lonely— like some sort of lost puppy.

All of a sudden, some random guys approached you.

“Hey, you lonely?” Said the one with a haircut rivaling the horridness of a bald cut. Honestly? You'd rather go bald than have… whatever haircut he had.

“Let's have some fun, miss.” Another guy said. You took one look at his horribly dyed hair. Was this supposed to be blonde? Or was he going for the dog pee color? You shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

From a distance, Daniela could be seen looking at you and the men with a frustrated glare. You seemed to be uncomfortable, so the Latina moved closer to the whole ordeal.

The third guy grabbed your hand, and you tried to pry him off you, your fight or flight instinct so close to applying itself to the situation. 

“Let me go—!” Daniela's eyes widened, and just as the Latina was about to run to your side, Sophia makes it there first. Like the night and shining armor she claimed to be.

“Hey, she told you to let go.” Just as the men were about to argue, they recognized her as the student body president, and didn't persist, leaving as soon as they realized.

Sophia looks at you with a worried look, carefully examining your body for any wounds or scratches.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” You nodded, tears threatening to fall. Daniela slows down, the girl letting go of a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

Sophia cupped your face, and tilts your face to the left and right. The Filipina sighs, relieved the men didn't do anything worse before she arrived.

Daniela looked at you and Sophia with a cold stare, and subconsciously strengthens her fist. She didn't know why she was so annoyed. Maybe it was because of those boys harassing you. Daniela walks away from you two, thinking you'd be fine because Sophia was there. But deep down, Daniela, in the back of her mind, had thought,

“You'd be safer with me.”

But the Latina pushed it down, thinking it was the booze getting to her.

Back with Sophia, you were so overstimulated. You just went through two hours of constant loud music with no one to talk to, and all of a sudden, you had gotten harassed. You wanted to go home so bad, and Sophia, ever the observant person, picked up on that.

The Filipina wiped a tear threatening to fall from your eyes, and spoke in a gentle tone.

“Hey, it's gonna be okay. Here,” Sophia extends a hand to you, “Take my hand, and I promise I'll take you away from all of this.” You mouthed a thank you, and gladly accepted her help.

Within minutes, Sophia got you out of that God forsaken party, and led you to a park nearby. The two of you sat on the swings, the silence of the night as comforting as it could get. Sophia understood you needed some time to yourself, but stayed. Knowing that sometimes, words weren't needed to comfort someone. Just her company alone should have some effect.

After a few minutes of calming down, you break the silence.

“... Thank you. I can't thank you enough.” You turn your head to face Sophia, but the Filipina, for some reason, had her eyebrows furrowed.

“Don't ever thank me for that. It was a normal way to handle things. I'm hurt you even thought you'd have to say thank you.” Sophia relaxes her eyebrows, a soft and slight frown neatly displayed on her pretty face.

“Still— thank you.” Sophia humms, acknowledging your gratitude.

The two of you just sat there, under the beautiful moonlit sky, peacefully swinging on the swings.

After what you thought to be a couple more minutes, you realized how late it had gotten. You hurriedly checked your phone, and saw a text message from Megan, saying,

“Hey girl so u kinda left me here so I'll js grab a lift from fine shyt 😛 and don't you worry I'll tell you ALLLLL about it tomorrow. Peace out xx” You sighed in relief.

“Hey.. Soph? It's getting late. We should get going now.” Sophia felt her breath hitch. You've never called her any sort of nickname before. And “Soph”? It hit right in the best way possible.

“Yeah, you're right. I'll… I'll get a taxi now. See you soon, Y/n.” The Filipina immediately stood up, and quickly opens her phone, hoping to mask how flustered she currently was.

As the Filipina was about to leave, you grab her arm,

“Or you could… hitch a ride with me?” You say as you pull your keys out, dangling them in front of Sophia's face.

“I can drive you home. It's the least I can do— especially after what you did today.” You noticed a slight tint of pink on Sophia's cheek, a slight smile finding its way to you.

“Yeah… that would be great.” Sophia reaches her hand out, and you take it, 

“Well then what are we waiting for?” You say as you lead the way. Sophia was thankful you were leading this time, unable to see the blushing mess she currently was. The sudden change in demeanor was a bit freaky, but she liked that about you. She was sure of that.

You were chilling on your bed at 10 am in the morning, when all of a sudden, a text from an unknown number had sent a notification on your phone. 

“Hey, is this Y/n?”

You furrowed your brows, who the hell was this? When all of a sudden, you remembered how you and Sophia had exchanged numbers last night, as you dropped her off at her home. You sent a reply, not too chalant, but not too nonchalant either.

“I’m assuming this is Sophia?’’ After a couple seconds, you get a reply back.

“Yes. I know it’s kinda shitty to do this on text, but are you free today?’’ You looked at the calendar hanging on your door. As far as you were concerned, the fact that you were currently still in bed, at 10 am in the morning, meant you were as free as a highschool student could possibly be.

“Yes.’’ You sent a follow up text,

“Are you taking me out on a date Laforteza?’’ It took a while, but your phone buzzed, indicating a reply.

“You caught me there, but yes, I’d very much love it if you’d be so kind to yk say yes?’’ You giggled at how dorky Sophia could be.

“12 at Angelina’s? Yk that new café down the street from school?’’ You looked at the clock. It was currently 10:12 am. You had enough time to prepare. So as you got up from bed, you sent Sophia a final text.

“Sure.’’

Sophia stood outside of the café, patiently waiting for you to show up. And as if on cue, she sees you approach her. Sophia felt the world stop.

There you were, walking towards her with a stupidly cute and soft smile on your face. You were wearing an oversized blue football jersey, exposing your left shoulder as it hung, your bra strap visible. You had baggy jeans on, white shoes accompanying them.

You were now only a foot away from Sophia. You were apologizing about being a bit late, but it fell on deaf ears. Your glasses. Sophia had never seen you wear glasses before, and oh God did she wish she had. You looked so… breathtaking.

“...ello? Hello, earth to Sophia? Are you upset about me being late?’’ Sophia shaked herself out of whatever homosexual trance she was in, and actually paid attention to you. She can’t believe such a simple outfit had her drooling like she was some dog.

But now that you had this slight pout on your face, genuinely worried if you had upset the raven haired girl, Sophia reminds herself why she was so enamoured in the first place. If the cuteness aggression she had towards dogs was strong, the cuteness aggression she had for you right now was definitely stronger.

“Uh… no no, it’s not that. You just look..’’ Sophia looks you up and down, “Amazing.’’ You blushed, telling her flattering words won’t get her anywhere.

“I beg to differ, because my flowery words have gotten me this date with you, hasn’t it?’’ You giggled,

“Whatever floats your boat Sophia.’’ Like clockwork, Sophia extends her hand for you, and you take it. The two of you enter the café, and spend the rest of the afternoon together.

You stood at the entrance of Disneyland. It's only been a couple minutes since your original meeting time has passed.

“Y/n!” You heard your name being yelled by Sophia, and turned around, wondering which direction the girl's voice came from.

And there she was, in all her glory, with a cute oversized red sweater that fit her in all the right ways, accompanied with some light oversized jeans.

You jogged towards her, and giggled at her choice of clothing.

“What's so funny?”

“A sweater? Sophia, it's the middle of the day in Los Angeles. You're gonna start sweating before we even enter a single attraction.”

“Wha— I can't choose what I look good in okay?!” You both entered the gates, a soft atmosphere surrounding you two.

After what seems to be hours, you and Sophia were now right in front of the roller coaster attraction. To say you were scared shitless of roller coasters was an understatement.

“I.. I don't know Soph. I can’t..” Sophia looked at you endearingly. The Filipina proceeded to speak to you with a soft tone.

“Hey, we don't have to if you don't want to. But… will you trust me on this?” Sophia extended her hand, with her stupid cute doe eyes. How could you say no?

So with a heavy heart, you took her hand, and stepped on the roller coaster. As the two of you strapped on, Sophia kept her fingers tangled with yours.

“Just hold on to my hand. If things get too scary, then squeeze them, okay? Don't worry, I'm here.” You nodded, as you mumbled small thank you.

Needless to say, you hated the ride. It was scary, dangerous, and overall not your thing. But maybe, just maybe— maybe it was worth it. Worth it to see Sophia smile like a little kid, giggling after you had gotten off the ride. A smile you couldn't help but return.

It's been about a month since you've been in a situationship with Sophia. Needless to say, you've been happier these past few weeks. But no matter how much Sophia was around you, Aaron, the dumb asshole he always was, still hasn't gotten the damn hint.

“Why are you playing so hard to get?” You were not in the mood for this. It was 8 am in the morning, and you had woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

“Look,” You faced Aaron, as you held your math and science books in your hand. “I'm not in the mood, Aaron. Just leave me alone.”

Aaron let out what seemed to be a mocking laugh, and grabbed your hand as you tried to walk away.

You accepted your fate, too tired to actually give a fuck, when all of a sudden, two people appeared by your side, slapping Aaron's hand away.

Those two people were Sophia and Daniela.

Sophia you expected, given the Filipina has been doing so for the past few weeks you've known each other. But Daniela?

The Latina hasn't spoken to you in weeks, almost as if you've never known each other at all. It was quite funny really. But you somehow managed to pull through— all because Sophia had been distracting you from the hard truth.

Daniela stepped forward, pointing a finger at Aaron, rage written all over her face.

“Don’t you ever lay a hand on her. You fucking mutt. Learn your damn place.’’ As Daniela was confronting Aaron, Sophia checked your wrist, and noticed red marks left by Aaron’s tight grip on you. Oh she was livid.

Both Daniela and Sophia were seething from the way Aaron had just treated you, and you know… free will?

“Oh please, I wasn’t doing anything wrong! Your friend over there was just playing hard to get.’’

“Listen here you—’’ Before Daniela could finish her words, Sophia stepped in.

“Veronica. Kaylee. Rhianna.’’ You and Daniela looked at Sophia with a confused stare. What the hell did they have to do with this?

But for some apparent reason, Aaron looked like he wanted to shit his pants.

“You want me to list more names, Aaron Williams? I know more shit about you than your side hoes do. So get your shit together, and never approach Y/n ever again. One more action— one more stupid little spectacle, and I will make it my life's mission to get you kicked out of this damned school. Am I understood?’’ Silence filled the halls, and after a few measly seconds, Sophia spoke again.

“I said, Am I understood!’’

“Ah— yes! I'm s—sorry.’’ Aaron stumbles with his words, and leaves the scene as quickly as he could, scared shitless, not wanting to face the consequences of his actions.

You sighed, glad the whole ordeal was finally over. The two girls shifted their attention to you, worry visible on both faces.

Daniela slightly opens her mouth and closes it almost immediately, as if she had wanted to say something but held back. Sophia however, did not hold back.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you any more than that?” You reassured Sophia, but the Filipina couldn't stop worrying.

In the midst of it all, Daniela stood there, right next to you and Sophia. But for some reason, it felt as if she was watching from a distance— like she didn't belong there. You looked so happy, and the Latina felt her presence there was not wanted.

It was, after all, her who had started avoiding you for getting harassed by that man— albeit not knowing what he was really like, or that you had never consented to the “courting”.

If she could take it all back— she’d do so in a heartbeat. Daniela felt as though she was extending her stay, so after taking one more look at you, Sophia cupping your cheeks and you telling her you were really fine, the Latina quietly stepped back.

Daniela watches you from a distance, hanging out with Megan, Yoonchae, and Sophia. For some reason, Daniela felt so… weird.

The Latina stares at her hand— the one she used to slap Aaron’s hand away from yours. She doesn’t know why she’s been thinking about it so much. Aaron was straight up harassing you— her friend—so of course she stepped in! Even if she liked him! But for some odd reason, calling you just a friend hurt.

She tries to shake herself out of it, but her eyes land on you, currently getting spoon fed by none other than Sophia Laforteza. Your friends were cheering her on, looking at you two like you were the sweetest couple in the world.

Her stomach twisted. Daniela thought about all the times Aaron was around you— all the times she felt “jealous” of you being courted by Aaron. But now that she was watching you and Sophia, now that someone else had suddenly been too attentive towards everything you say— been too sweet for her liking, Daniela second guesses it all. Did she truly like Aaron? Yes. But was that uncomfortable, gut wrenching feeling of jealousy directed towards you?

Daniela took a few short breaths. It hit her like a train. She wasn’t jealous of you— she was jealous of Aaron.

The light in Daniela’s eyes disappears once she sees you look at Sophia in a certain way— like you were starting to fall for the Filipina. Daniela grits her teeth, a pained expression visible on her face. Lara, who was right next to the Latina, asked what was wrong.

“It’s nothing Lara.” Daniela’s reassurance made Lara worry even more. She never calls her Lara— only Lars or some other teasing nickname like “Dumbass” or “Bitch”. So Lara knew this was serious.

The next few weeks were devastating for Daniela. The sudden realization of her feelings for you was crushing enough— but the fact that Sophia was now openly courting you intensified her heartbreak.

On the other hand, things have been going well for Sophia. She’s finally able to pursue the person she’s been liking for the past few months— the only reason why she didn’t do so in the first place being the fact that you explicitly made it clear you were not interested in a relationship.

But after Megan Meiyok, your friend, approached her and let her know you were in the market— the Filipina jumped at the chance.

After you had told her about your feelings for someone, although she did not know who you liked so much, Sophia sympathized with you. She made it her mission to make you fall for her— to be the one you admire the most.

And with every date, every conversation, every time you had accepted her hand—trusted her— Sophia was sure she fell even more in love, if that was even possible. You were amazing, kind, reassuring, and the only person who had her heart. The past few months she’s spent with you were by far the best in her life. Your laugh, your smile, your stupid doe eyes— had her captivated.

Sophia wanted nothing more than for you to be hers— and for her to be yours.

It was currently the music festival, and you were with Megan. Megan, the hyper little bitch she was, had been running around trying stuff from different stalls. Just a couple minutes ago the girl had eaten food with peanuts in it, her peanut allergy kicking in.

“This has… what now?” Megan awkwardly laughed, looking at the food in her hands with an obvious bite on it, and the person selling.

“Peanuts girl— it’s got peanuts in it.” Your jaw dropped, and just as you were about to call school staff, or maybe even run around trying to find anyone with an epipen, Megan brushes it off.

“Oh its fine, I’ve got an epipen with me. I came prepared.” With a smug and confident smile, Megan takes another bite out of the cake. You had no idea how this girl was still alive.

It was in fact, not fine. Her peanut allergy kicked in almost immediately after the second bite, and Megan began scrambling for her epipen. She struggled, only to find it at the bottom of her bag. You swore you were going to kill her before her allergy gets to her first.

It was starting to get late, the sky turning into a familiar dark shade of blue. You and Megan walked around a bit more, and reached the middle of the festival. Here, everyone was gathered to watch what seems to be a performance of some sort.

“The festival is coming to an end, so we'll be finishing it off with a bang!” The singer says, and their drummer starts it off with a “1 2 3 4!”

All of a sudden they started playing what seemed to be Tokyo Ghetto. Their lead singer had started singing in Japanese, which was to be expected since he himself was supposedly Japanese. Some girls yelled his name, squealing. “Oh my god Ni-ki!!”

You were vibing with the music, until you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around, a bit spooked, only to find Sophia looking at you with a gentle smile.

You returned her cheerfulness, and the two of you just stood there, admiring the music. In the middle of it all, fireworks had suddenly started popping, which scared you. You hated loud noises— especially if you didn't know they were going to happen.

Your breathing started getting faster— more erratic than you wanted it to be. You didn't notice how or why, but you were starting to get overstimulated. 

No, scratch that, you already were overstimulated. The fireworks were just what sealed the deal.

Sophia noticed your discomfort almost immediately. Sophia gently tilted your head to face her. You looked at her with a confused and tired face. The whole going around campus had you exhausted.

Sophia looked at you with a worried but gentle smile. She softly covered your ears, mouthing, “Let's go?” You nodded. Of course she came to your rescue once more. You shut your eyes, hoping to get away from all the noise.

Sophia quickly grabbed your hand, and dragged you away from the crowd. After a few minutes, you were both now in the parking area, far away from where all the ruckus was.

Sophia gently tapped your ears, and you slowly opened your eyes.

You were met with Sophia, looking absolutely ethereal. Even under the moonlit sky, her beauty was still visible— rivaling even the moon itself.

You calmed yourself down, feeling thanks to comforted Sophia's presence.

Sophia took a deep breath, and started speaking.

“I… I know this isn't the best time Y/n, but still. I just— I wanted to let you know. I know it's obvious that I like you, but…” You look at Sophia. It felt too early. You liked the girl, yes. She's been nothing but understanding and amazing— but.. but Daniela.

“I love you, Y/n L/n. I want you to know that I love you. Even through all my hectic schedules, sleepless nights, you've been the only thing I could look forward to. Day and Night I think about how lucky I am to have had the chance to even be your friend, much more this. I'll treat you as my world, if you promise to treat me as yours. So, Y/n L/n, will you take my hand, and accept my faulty but sincere confession?” Sophia reaches out her hand, hoping— praying you'd take it. 

But you hesitated. An image of Daniela suddenly appearing in your mind— her sweet smile, the very one you fell for all those years ago, flashing as a memory.

Sophia took one look at you, and knew your answer. You've never hesitated in taking her hand. So she knew. She knew your answer.

Sophia sighs, and puts her hand away. Just as you were about to say sorry, the Filipina cuts you off.

“Don't. It's not your fault. I don't want nor do I need your pity.” Despite the sadness written all over her face, a tear threatening to fall, Sophia shot you a reassuring smile.

“You still like her, don't you?”

With an ashamed nod, you bit your lip and mumbled a yes. Sophia raised your head to look at her straight in the eye.

“Hey, I'm gonna be fine. You know me Y/n. But if you're gonna reject me this way, all because you couldn't move on and still continue to mope over someone you haven't even confessed to, then I just feel mocked.” Sophia's face turned serious,

“So you better get with Daniela, or else I'll kick either you or her in the shin.” Sophia laughed it off, but the guilt was starting to overwhelm you. Sophia noticed you were now shaking, and noticed how cold it had gotten.

The Filipina swiftly takes off her varsity jacket, and places it around you. She pats the jacket down, just so it could fit you perfectly.

She reaches her hand out, and looks at you with a pained smile.

“Let's head back?” You hated how considerate she still was. How she ignored all the pain she felt when you had rejected her— all because she prioritized your feelings first. You nodded, and took her hand.

It's been a week since the music festival. Sophia was still kind to you— too kind. To the point where no one knew about what had happened, except Yoonchae and Megan until she told her other friends.

Sophia was still your friend, so she greeted you, Megan, and Yoonchae more often than not.

Daniela has been in and out of it lately. She's been wanting to confess to you the moment she realized her feelings, but she knew she had to mend your friendship first. So here she was, with Lara and Manon, currently seated at your table. She apologized to you a couple days back— but she knew she had to do more.

Daniela has been by your side for the last few days, hoping to make amends. You hated how easily she can just slip back into your life, how easily she could just barge back into your heart.

As the whole table chit and chattered, everyone in some sort of conversation, Daniela handed you a note, and mouthed,

“Open it later.” You nodded, wondering what it was about.

It was now math class. Well, before math class was about to start but that's besides the point. You grabbed Daniela's note from your pocket, and it read,

“Dismissal, 5pm, school gym.” You wondered what this was about, but you were going to go nonetheless. It's not like anything major was going to happen anyway.

“Hi.” Daniela said as she stood in front of you.

“Hi Dani. What's this for?” Daniela looked hesitant, but the Latina continued speaking.

“I… I know I apologized. But… still. I'm sorry about the whole Aaron thing.” You chuckled, and told her it was okay— that you didn't really mind. Even if you did.

“Look I—” Daniela sighs, “I recently realized. I was never…”

“You were never..?”

“I was never jealous of you. I was… I was jealous of Aaron.” Daniela says as she fidgets with her fingers.

“I know, this may be kinda shitty but… all this time, the only person I truly liked was you. I don't know how it slipped past me, but it did. I'm so sorry for the way I treated you, and everything else.” Your breath hitched. Was this seriously happening right now?

Normally, you'd say yes in a heartbeat. You've been waiting for this for so long— but Sophia's confession rang in your head. You remember her telling you to choose wisely. To make sure whoever you were going to be with was worth it.

After all Daniela had done, you weren't so sure anymore.

“I…”

“Just— a chance is all I need, Y/n. I won't mess this up. I promise.” You wanted to say yes, but you couldn't. 

“... I need time, Daniela. I know I said I forgave you but— it still hurt me nonetheless. Prove to me. Prove that you deserve to be the one to hold my hand, to be the one I call mine.” Daniela held your hand, and brought it to her chest. 

“Of course.”

[ardri-na-bpiteog]

In case anyone was wondering about current Irish political nonsense, there is a minor scandal because the Taoiseach (prime minister) accused the leader of the main opposition party, in Irish, of "ag insint bréaga", roughly translating to "telling lies" which the opposition party has demanded he retract as it potentially crosses the line of the limits of "parliamentary language" in the constitution.

But this had to be raised by one of the opposition's members who is a fluent Irish speaker because most of the other representatives aren't fluent in Irish and didn't even realise what the Taoiseach had said.

And the most ridiculous part is that the Ceann Comhairle (chairperson or speaker) of the Dáil is, herself, not an Irish speaker and has basically said she can't rule on the comment because she didn't hear/understand it, which raises the interesting implication that you can say whatever you want to other members of the parliament as long as you say it in Irish because she probably won't understand it.

The media and political parties have now spent a couple of days analysing and debating whether or not the Taoiseach really did accuse the leader of the opposition of lying and if this would be inappropriate if so. Meanwhile we have a housing crisis so it's great that they're spending all this time on this.