#it is probably the last time they will all see each other

[crazyvik97rpg]

Grandma Lillian showing up was honestly the most pleasant surprise – Sebastian hadn’t expected her at all. She herself had to deal with rough health problems lately, she was over 80 years old and it’s also been the reason they didn’t celebrate Christmas at her place last time. Her being here cheered Sebastian up a lot. They didn’t see each other often as it was.

They had a lot of catching up to do, to say the least. She got herself a chair and sat right next to Sebastian’s bed and they just…talked. A lot. About everything that happened. Grandma Lillian had been quite shocked about the news to say the least – she said herself, being sick by 80 was not unusual. 30 however? That was simply terrible! Sebastian still had his whole life ahead of himself – after that terrible drug–scare no less.

Well, they both could agree to that anyway – Sebastian couldn’t deny that it was something he never ever wanted to experience and yet he was here. He told his grandma everything – the appointments, the diagnosis, the whole process of arranging more tests, that William managed it all for him. How they even spotted the mole in the first place. She knew about Sebastian’s „new“ boyfriend, however never managed to meet him before – she often heard things about him at least. Cynthia loved him a lot – and that was saying something!

„And William said I should have it looked at because it looked so strange. Nothing he‘d ever seen before on me, at least. And it was for the better, he probably even saved my life that way…“, he sighed.

„Well, good thing you have such an attentive young man, dear. You men usually overlook these things, are you getting checked regularly? Well from now on I hope you do that“, she said as she held Sebastian’s hand. They spoke about lots of other things too though. It seemed William was a little late today, it was half past 4pm when the door suddenly opened.

They were in the middle of the conversation when William barged into the room, apologizing for being late. He was cute, really, kind of in a rush – Sebastian smiled at him and motioned to him to just come closer after he came to a halt, once he noticed the other visitor in the room with them. „Oh love, there you are…I already started wondering when you might show up“, he smiled and his grandma too looked up now, smiling as well. She figured out right away who that was – so she got to meet the new boyfriend after all.

„Grandma, that’s William. William, that’s my grandma Lillian. Mom‘s side“, Sebastian introduced them quickly. Lillian stood up for a moment, so they could actually shake hands properly: „It’s so lovely to finally meet you, William. I would have loved to in different circumstances, I have to admit“.

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[hotvintagepoll]

Vintage movie recommendations for getting through these dark times? 🙏 Looking specifically for anything joyous, especially if it's queer/progressive for its time. Thanks!!

ooh ok! that's a big ask, because queer/progressive doesn't always show in the ways we expect in older movies. still, joyous i can do, and as poly as I can I'll try for:

the talk of the town (you knew i would say this). jean arthur, cary grant, ronald colman are all tangled up in all sorts of ways, legally but also including in each other's pajamas. it's free on youtube and tubi last time i checked!

singin' in the rain (you also knew i would say this). cosmo brown, weird little third wheeling queerplatonic ideal that you are. gene kelly, debbie reynolds, and donald o'connor have fire chemistry and all three of their characters love the other ones so truly and with such joy they break all of hollywood with the power of song. (it is gorgeous and sublime that the story is built so only these three ever actually engage with the musical format—the format that is, in universe, the way of the future��structurally equating music and musicals with love. no one else gets a song or a villain number or a little ditty that's not a literal musical number. only these three break the story and heal it at the same time.)

the adventures of robin hood—i swear to god will scarlett is good for nothing else besides being robin's hot little friend. will alone makes this movie queer for me. also, watching a movie about a socialist uprising against a cruel and unjust government sure feels apt! for no particular reason! (this one is also on tubi.)

the philadelphia story—jimmy katharine and cary are absolutely a threesome in this movie and it's a crime they didn't just make more of this movie, again and again, forever. is there a plot? they're all by a swimming pool, it's hot, there's champagne. what else do you need for a film. oh yeah there's some discussion of autonomy and women's rights and wealth and class and marriage, some of which i disagree with, but i think mostly it's katharine hepburn in an evening gown and jimmy stewart in a white terry cloth robe and cary grant standing there not minding in the least. (content warning: there is one instance of a racial slur [not directed at anyone but still there], and one shove. also on tubi.)

the lady vanishes—i love this movie, so much, couldn't tell you why (i can: michael redgrave is here being hot). there are two bit characters who read as queer coded (they are also obsessed with cricket and are mocked for being english by the narrative, which is nice), and there's a weird plucky joy in michael redgrave's performance that feels like a departure from your usual Solid Very Serious Male Heroic Main Character. this movie does trend mildly xenophobic in a very England-in-the-30s type of way—there are shady "foreign" characters and other batshit stereotypes—but nothing I think that would cause direct offense. (let me know if I'm wrong on this though and I'll tag accordingly). this one is free anywhere and can be watched on youtube.

the wizard of oz—i know you've probably seen this before but it's worth seeing again. yes you're allowed to cry at the end i always do

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST PT2 | FC43

part one

an: not even gonna leave an an, i always had a part two lol

wc: 5.2k

Franco found out she was dating Angelo via an Instagram story. A fucking Instagram story.

But that was almost three years ago now, and Franco tried to let it go, god did he try. He was getting married now, after all. He had to forget about what could have been.

The engagement ring on his finger felt heavier than it should. Not because he hadn’t once thought it was right—he had. Or maybe he just convinced himself it was right. They’d been together for four years, maybe more, he stopped counting. She was beautiful, poised, easy to love, easy to fit into his world. That’s what he’d told himself, anyway.

But now, standing in the grand suite of the London hotel they’d rented for the weekend, Franco stared out the window at the city below, watching the lights flicker in the distance. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was missing. Not that he had any right to be questioning it. After all, he was about to get married, wasn’t he?

The last three years had been a blur of wins, podiums, and post-race parties. Formula 1 had been a dream realised, his face plastered across billboards in every country, every magazine with his name next to the headlines. He’d travelled the world, earned millions, lived a life many envied. But somewhere along the way, his heart had wandered.

And the truth was, despite the glamour, despite the fame, the money, he couldn’t shake the thought of her. The way she’d looked when she told him she loved him first. The way her eyes had glistened with unshed tears that night in Monza—before she left for good. The way she’d walked away, no longer the girl he took for granted. It was like he could still see her disappearing down the hallway of the hotel, leaving him behind, a shadow in her past.

What if I had chosen her?

He thought about that too often. But it was too late. She was gone. She’d moved on with Angelo, the guy who was everything Franco wasn’t—steady, grounded, someone who could give her a love that wasn’t tied to racing, fame, or endless, mind-numbing travel. And that fucking Instagram story—her laughing, the two of them in a café in Buenos Aires, arms around each other, looking so effortlessly happy—had been the final blow.

That was the last straw.

And now, three years later, here he was—about to get married, with the wrong person. He should have been thrilled, but something about it gnawed at him, like he was suffocating in a life that wasn’t his own. She was everything he thought he wanted. She’d followed him to every race, always the perfect girlfriend, the perfect partner. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he loved her anymore. He wasn’t sure he ever had.

She had been the easy option. She fit into the world he’d built for himself—the shiny, public life, the world of sponsorships and media appearances. She had the right background, the right education, the right looks. She was what was expected of him. What people saw when they looked at a successful F1 driver: the perfect match, the ideal woman.

But the reality was that whenever he closed his eyes, he saw someone else. He saw her. The girl from that small village in Argentina, the one who’d loved him first and probably would, even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he hadn’t been able to see it for what it was.

He hadn’t thought about her for a while—not in the sense that would make him ache, not the way he used to. He’d buried that pain under the chaos of the last few years. But it was like a low hum in the back of his mind. Every time he saw Angelo’s name pop up, or when he’d hear a new story about her from people back home, he couldn’t help but wonder how her life had turned out. Was she happy? Was she still with Angelo? Was she finally over him?

He could only imagine the life she’d built without him—the kind of life she deserved.

But now, standing on the edge of a new chapter of his life, Franco wondered if he’d ever be able to move on. Because, no matter how many laps he raced, no matter how many trophies he collected, it always came back to her. And now, with his wedding on the horizon, he couldn’t help but ask himself: What the hell had he been doing this whole time?

His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him back to the moment. His fiancée. A text: “Hey, I made reservations for dinner tonight!”

He sighed and stared at the screen of his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

He knew he shouldn’t, it was ridiculous. It was stupid. He had no right to send her an invitation, not after everything. He hadn’t heard from her in so long, hadn’t even thought about reaching out beyond those painful Instagram stories and the passing updates from mutual friends.

But, for some reason, there he was—typing out an invitation to his wedding.

It’s the right thing to do, he told himself. She was a part of his past. She had been the first person to love him unconditionally. They’d spent too many years growing up together not to extend an olive branch. Besides, she had a life now, a life without him. Maybe it was selfish to think she would even want to come, but maybe, just maybe, she deserved to know. She deserved to hear it from him, the way things had turned out.

He hit “send” before he could overthink it any more. The words felt hollow as they left his phone, but there was no going back now.

It was a quiet afternoon in Buenos Aires. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light through the windows of their apartment. She and Angelo had just finished dinner—nothing fancy, just pasta and wine—and now she was curled up on the couch with a book in her lap, one of the many cosy rituals they had settled into over the past couple of years.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, seeing a notification from her email app. The subject line made her pause.

Wedding Invitation: Franco Colapinto.

She blinked, feeling her chest tighten before she even opened it. It had been so long since she’d thought about him—since Monza, really. It was a chapter of her life that had closed the moment she walked away. But the sight of his name brought it all rushing back. The summers spent racing bikes down dirt roads, his smile so effortless, so wide. The way he’d looked at her before everything changed.

Slowly, she opened the email, feeling a strange mixture of nostalgia and disbelief.

I hope this message finds you well. It’s been a while since we last spoke, but I wanted to reach out and invite you to something important. I’m getting married in three months' time, and I wanted to personally invite you to be a part of the day. It wouldn’t feel right without including you.

I understand if you’re unable to come, but I thought it was important to extend the invitation.

I hope everything is going well in your life.

All the best,

Fran

She stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, the words swimming in her mind. There were so many things she could have said, but the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of her heart, beating a little faster than it should. A soft ache settled in her chest.

Three years had passed. She had moved on, found a life she was proud of—one that was stable and calm, filled with love from Angelo, whose steady hand had never wavered, who had been everything Franco couldn’t be. She had built a future, and it was more than she had ever expected for herself.

And yet, the invitation sat there, a reminder of what had been. Of the boy she had loved, the boy who had never truly seen her. Of the boy who she had walked away from.

She set the phone down for a moment, leaning back against the couch. Angelo’s gentle snoring filled the living room from the slightly ajar door, a quiet reminder of the life they had made together—together, with no ghosts of the past lingering between them. But even as she sat there, she could feel the sting of Franco’s message, the painful reminder of how much had been left unsaid.

She thought about the wedding. How strange it felt to be invited to something so intimate, something so final. It was a life she would never be a part of. A life that wasn’t hers to claim, never was. But part of her, deep down, still wondered what had happened. Was he happy? Was this really the life he wanted? Or was this just another easy option for him? Another decision made out of convenience?

Why am I even asking myself this?

She shook her head, her lips curling into a rueful smile. She knew she didn’t want to go. There was no reason to go back to that part of her life, not now. Not when everything she had built with Angelo was exactly where it needed to be.

The following morning, the soft clink of Angelo’s keys echoed through their small kitchen as he got his things ready for work. He was already dressed in his crisp suit, his tie neatly adjusted, preparing for another day at the law firm. She, on the other hand, was in her scrubs, packing her bag for her shift at the hospital.

She was tying her trainers when she saw him glance at her, his eyes focused on his phone.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity. “You seem a little quiet this morning.”

She shrugged, setting her bag down on the counter. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

It was only a half-lie. She had hardly slept last night after receiving Franco’s invitation. The words had stuck with her, gnawing at her thoughts, replaying in her mind like a loop she couldn’t escape.

“What’s up?” Angelo asked, watching her intently, his brow furrowing slightly.

She hesitated, then sighed and reached for her phone, pulling up the email Franco had sent her. She handed it to him without a word.

Angelo read it in silence, his eyes scanning the screen. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but somehow, she already knew that he would have an opinion on it.

Finally, he set the phone down and looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. “He’s getting married, huh? I didn;’t believe it when I saw it on the news.” he said softly.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly, as if the words themselves felt like an admission. “I guess he thought I should know.”

“You’re not planning on going, are you?” Angelo asked, his voice laced with concern.

She shook her head, biting her lip. “He’s my past now. It doesn’t matter. It’s… it’s not something I need to revisit.”

Angelo nodded, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He knew how much Franco had meant to her—how he had once been the centre of her world. But that was years ago. And he had never once doubted that she was now his world.

“I haven’t seen Franco since we were sixteen,” Angelo said, his tone thoughtful. “I know things between you and him ended... well, the way they did. But maybe it might be good to go. For closure. For you, if nothing else.”

She met his eyes, her gaze wavering. “Closure?” she repeated, almost incredulously. “I don’t need closure, Angelo. I moved on a long time ago.”

“I know,” Angelo said, his voice gentle but firm. “But I think sometimes it’s easy to say we’ve moved on, that we’re over things. But there are pieces of our past that stick with us, no matter how much time passes. Maybe seeing him—seeing that life—will help you put the final chapter behind you. Don’t you think?”

She was quiet for a long moment, turning the idea over in her head. It made sense, in a way. The past had never quite been put to rest, even if she had buried it deep. Maybe it wasn’t about Franco anymore. Maybe it was about facing what had happened, about finding peace with it, once and for all.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I don’t want it to mess with what we have, Angelo. I don’t want to go and be reminded of something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Angelo smiled softly, taking her hand in his. “It won’t. I promise. You’re the one I want, mi amor You’re the one who matters. Whatever happened back then, whatever Franco was, that’s not us. It’s not our life. But if this is something you think you need to do, then I’ll be there with you. I want you to have the closure you need.”

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. Angelo had always been like that—steady, understanding, and so patient with her. He never pushed her to forget, but he also didn’t hold her to the past. He was the one who made her feel safe, who built her the life she was proud of, and the thought of him beside her through whatever this was made her feel like she could take on anything.

With a slow, hesitant breath, she met his eyes. “You’re right. Maybe it would be good to go. I don’t know what I’ll feel when I see him, but I think... I think I can handle it now.”

Angelo smiled, squeezing her hand. “Then we’ll go. Together.”

She nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. The decision was made, and it was time to let go of the last remnants of the past. Franco and his life—whatever that was now—could stay in the past, but she wouldn’t be running from it anymore.

“Thanks,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “For always being here.”

“Always,” Angelo replied, his voice warm. “Now go. You don’t want to be late for your shift.”

She smiled at him one last time before grabbing her bag and heading for the door. The wedding was still months away, but somehow, her world felt just a little bit more at peace now.

Three months later

The morning of the wedding, the soft rays of the sun filtered through the curtains of their hotel suite, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.

She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress as Angelo adjusted his cufflinks in the reflection behind her. The air was filled with a quiet sense of anticipation. It had been a few months since she agreed to come to the wedding, and now, standing in this luxurious hotel in the heart of the Mediterranean, she could feel the surrealness of it all.

She was here. With him. With Angelo.

He caught her gaze in the mirror, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice tender.

She smiled back, her heart swelling with a quiet joy. Angelo was always so calm, so steady, and he knew exactly how to make her feel loved without needing to say much. The simple moments like this were the ones that made her certain that their life together, their future, was the right one.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. He was perfect in every way. “You look handsome, as usual,” she added with a smile.

He chuckled softly. “I try,” he teased, adjusting the hem of his suit jacket before stepping forward to take her hand. “Are you ready for this? I know it’s been a long time coming.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready. It’s just… it’s strange. You know? We’re not the same people we were three years ago. And I feel like I’m finally letting go of that past. I just need to do it, for me. And for us.”

“Whatever you need, you have it,” Angelo said, his voice unwavering, filled with a quiet strength.

She smiled at him, grateful for his support. They had come so far, and no matter what happened today, she knew she was in the right place.

“I’m going to step outside for a second,” she said, pulling away from him gently. “I’m going to grab a photo of the schedule. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Angelo replied, watching her with those warm, reassuring eyes.

She stepped into the corridor of the hotel, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She pulled out her phone, navigating to the event details to snap a photo of the ceremony’s schedule. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant chatter of guests below and the hum of preparations for the wedding in the distance. The excitement was palpable in the air, but in this moment, everything felt calm.

That was until she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

She turned around, feeling her heart give a small, unexpected jolt when she saw him.

Franco.

He was standing there, half-dressed in a black tuxedo with his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, his tie still loose around his neck. He looked just like he did three years ago—handsome, dishevelled in the way that made him seem effortlessly charming.

Her stomach tightened.

“You came,” he said, his voice soft with surprise. 

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before forcing a calm smile. “I said I would,” she replied evenly. Her heart beat just a little faster, but she kept her expression neutral.

He looked at her, his gaze a little more intense than she remembered, and she couldn’t quite place the mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. There was something unspoken there, something she hadn’t expected.

“I didn’t think you’d follow through,” he added, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

She didn’t know what to make of that. She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least be polite.”

A silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and thick with everything that had been left unsaid over the years. Franco’s gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment before he looked back up at her, his jaw tense, and his voice was almost pleading when he spoke.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his words hesitant.

She hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken. She didn’t want this. Didn’t want to go back to the past—didn’t want to open that door again.

“I’d rather not,” she said, her tone firm, though her heart was beating harder than she cared to admit.

Franco’s expression softened. “It’s been three years. Three years overdue, don’t you think?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, the weight of everything hanging between them. She didn’t owe him anything, and yet, a part of her—perhaps the part that had loved him—knew there was still something lingering. Something that she hadn’t been able to shake off.

She finally gave a soft sigh, one that carried all the weariness of the years that had passed. “Fine,” she said quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly in resignation. “But just for a minute. I don’t have time to rehash everything.”

“Thank you,” Franco murmured, stepping forward as he gestured down the hallway. “My room’s just down here. I won’t keep you long.”

They walked down the corridor in silence, the weight of the moment sinking in. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this conversation, but she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Not for either of them. When they reached his room, Franco opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.

It was a modest suite, far removed from the lavish ceremony unfolding just downstairs. The quiet of the room seemed to accentuate the tension between them. He closed the door behind them, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, his voice distant as he turned to face her. “Water? A drink?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

There was a long pause. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. For the first time in a long while, he seemed uncertain.

“So…” Franco began, taking a breath, “I guess this is awkward, huh?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice steady, but her insides were churning. “A little.”

Before she even had a chance to settle with what she was doing, he shot her straight to the heart with the words that came out of his mouth.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I know I did, but that wasn’t ever my intention. You were always there for me, and I should’ve done better. I should’ve realised…”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that was all too familiar. He seemed to be gathering the courage to say something, but when he spoke, his words were not what she expected.

“I should’ve told you,” he started, voice low, almost regretful. “I should have told you that I loved you.”

She blinked, her chest tightening as she took in the weight of his words. “Don’t,” she said quickly, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp, a defence mechanism against the rawness he was trying to expose. “You can’t do that. You can’t come here and say things like that after all this time. It’s... it’s mean.”

Franco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I should’ve told you,” he repeated, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite place—guilt, perhaps? Regret?

She shook her head, unable to stop herself from responding. “Why are you still with her, then?” Her voice trembled slightly, the question feeling more like a challenge than a simple inquiry. She thought of how excited she must be right now getting ready, while he was confessing his love to his childhood best friend. She wondered whether she knew.

He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, his eyes flickered away, as though he was ashamed of the truth he was about to speak. “It’s easier to pretend to love her,” he admitted, his voice flat. “It’s easier than facing the truth.”

“Than what?” she asked, her words cutting through the air, her eyes locking onto his. “Than admitting you love me?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Franco’s eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, a hesitation lingering between them. He opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he exhaled deeply, as if trying to gather the strength to continue.

“You don’t understand,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. I still don’t.”

She looked at him, biting her lip, trying to keep herself from breaking. “You can’t do this,” she said, her voice cracking with frustration. “You don’t get to walk back into my life now and make me feel like I was some... some second choice. You don’t get to say things that undo everything we went through.”

Franco’s gaze darkened, but his next words were even more dangerous. “Say it, and I’ll leave her,” he said, his voice low and intense, as if he were testing her. “Say you want me the same way you wanted me three summers ago, and I’ll do it. I’ll walk away from her. I’ll choose you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering in her chest. The temptation was there—familiar, painful, and so very dangerous. She could feel that old longing tug at her, the part of her that had loved him so fiercely, so deeply. But this wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t the girl who would wait around for him to realise what he’d lost.

“I can’t,” she whispered, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I can’t do that anymore. I’m happy now. I’m happy with Angelo.”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she had to convince herself of them. But as she looked into Franco’s eyes—still searching, still wanting—she realised that she meant it. She really did.

Franco’s face fell, his expression a mixture of frustration and defeat. “You don’t understand,” he said again, the words sounding more like a plea. “I never stopped loving you.”

She took a step back, shaking her head, trying to clear the emotions that were spiralling inside of her. “No,” she said firmly, her voice resolute. “You don’t get to say that, Franco. Not now. Not when I’ve spent three years getting over all of this. You don’t get to come here and break my heart all over again.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the space between them filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. But it was over. It had to be.

“I can’t undo what happened,” she added softly, her gaze not leaving his. “But I’m not that girl anymore. And I’m not going to be someone’s second choice.”

Franco didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. The weight of everything they’d been through hung heavy between them, and it was clear now that nothing could fix it. Not words. Not promises.

She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob, but before she could step out of the room, she paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time.

“I’m happy now, Fran,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite everything. “And you need to figure out what makes you happy too. But I can’t be part of that anymore.”

She opened the door and stepped out, not looking back, not giving him the chance to say anything more.

The wedding was beautiful.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the guests who had gathered for the wedding. The ceremony was set to take place on the terrace of the luxurious hotel overlooking the sea, the soft sound of waves lapping against the rocks below barely audible amidst the murmur of excited chatter.

She sat there, a few rows back from the front, Angelo by her side. The venue was beautiful—everything that was supposed to be perfect for a wedding. The guests were in their best attire, the flowers were arranged in pristine perfection, and the atmosphere felt like a dream. But something was off. A low hum of anxiety had been building ever since the music started, and she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Franco was supposed to be standing at the altar now. But he wasn’t.

She stole a glance at Angelo, who was sitting quietly beside her, a reassuring hand on her knee. He could sense her unease.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the gentle clinking of glasses and conversations around them.

She nodded, but her eyes drifted nervously toward the aisle. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Something feels wrong.”

The minutes dragged on. The officiant glanced at his watch, confusion spreading across his face as he leaned over to whisper something to the bridesmaids. There was no sign of Franco, and the guests were beginning to exchange worried glances. The tension in the air became palpable, the excitement of the ceremony suddenly replaced by a growing sense of discomfort.

After a few more minutes, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She turned to Angelo, her voice barely above a whisper, but her anxiety was thick in her words. “Do you think he’s going to come?”

Angelo squeezed her hand gently, his gaze soft and understanding. “I don’t know, cariño. Maybe something’s happened. He’s probably just... running late.”

But as they exchanged those quiet words, it became clear that it wasn’t just a delay. The guests were shifting in their seats, some starting to murmur under their breath, the ceremony now holding a sense of surreal anticipation.

And then, just as the whispers reached a crescendo, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind. Everyone turned, their heads swivelling as they saw him—Franco. He was walking down the aisle, his face pale, his expression one of guilt and uncertainty. He wasn’t in a rush, though. It was as if he was taking his time, as though he had already made a decision.

The room fell silent as Franco reached the front. He looked out at the gathering of faces—his family, his friends, all of them waiting for the moment when he would say "I do." But he didn’t speak immediately.

He was struggling with the words, and she could feel the weight of the tension from across the room. Her heart raced, confusion and disbelief washing over her as she watched him take a deep breath, his eyes scanning the crowd before finally locking on the bride’s family sitting in the front row.

“Excuse me,” Franco’s voice broke through the silence, shaky but loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m sorry for the disruption,” he continued, his eyes darting nervously between the bride and the guests. “I... I can’t do this. I can’t marry her.”

The air seemed to stop in that moment. His words hung like an echo, the shock rippling through the crowd. She couldn’t look away, her heart pounding in her chest as Freddie stood there, his face flushed with embarrassment, his hands trembling at his sides.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could,” he went on, his voice quiet but steady, “but I can’t marry her when I love someone else.” His gaze shifted to her, and for a split second, their eyes met. The pain, the regret, the history of everything they had been—it was all there in that single glance. But she didn’t feel anything but exhaustion. It was like watching someone else’s dream unravel.

The guests were murmuring, unsure of how to respond. His bride, stood by the doors he’d just walked in from, ready to walk down the aisle frozen and unmoving. Shelooked like she was about to collapse, her face pale as she took in the words that no one had expected.

“I’m sorry, I just—” Franco continued, his voice breaking, “I can’t do it. I can’t go through with it. I’m sorry. I—I just can’t.”

Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, stepping down from the altar, leaving the bride standing alone, abandoned in front of everyone.

The room was filled with stunned silence.

Angelo reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as the reality of what had just unfolded sank in. She didn’t know how to feel—didn’t know what to think. Her chest ached with a strange mixture of relief and guilt, but most of all, there was a numbness that began to set in.

And then, just as quickly as Franco had walked away, he was gone, disappearing behind the closed doors of the venue, leaving a trail of shock in his wake. The ceremony was over before it had even begun.

She couldn’t help herself.

The guilt she felt in her stomach was strong.

It was her fault.

the end.

an: actual an, im sorry guys! i was feeling sad so i wrote this muahhah

tags: @obxstiles @charlosvibesonly @zestytimbit @taygrls

[kooqitas]

#pairing: cheater!jeonghan x reader ♡ smut [18+ mdni], pwp ♡ wc: ~1400 #synopsis: you always knew jeonghan was worthless, you just didn't expect to see him at a school parent meeting with his wife #warnings: cheating!!!!! rough sex, semi-public sex, degradation, breeding kink, spitting, slapping, humiliation, jeonghan is dom and y/n brat. wonwoo mentioned. unprotected sex. #warnings: ok, maybe i went a little over the moral line, but considering that i fantasize abt kpop idols having sex i don't think morals matter that much here… ★ m.list | inbox :D join my taglist

you knew you were fucked when he walked into that class.

yes, the guy you had been fucking without any strings attached almost daily for two weeks was at the school's parents reunion at that exact moment. the problem? you were the teacher and he was the father of one of your students... with a huge fucking ring on his finger and his WIFE by his side.

eunbin was so cute, as always, the girl with asian eyes loved you as her teacher, and made sure to show you how much her father and mother who loved each other so much were there, after going through a five-year wedding anniversary dinner last night.

you tried to be professional, you tried your best not to show how pissed you were about the whole situation, but honestly yoon jeonghan should go fuck himself!

it was the worst time of your life, a student's mother telling you how much her daughter loved you, and all you could think about was her husband cumming inside your cunt. god...

you don't know what the hell he came up with, but after the meeting was over, while you were gathering your things in your class, jeonghan appeared behind you.

"you told me you were single!" you asked, visible mad.

"well... maybe i hid some information..."

"fuck you!" you said, stupidly.

"look, it's just a... detail" he said.

one detail? seriously? you shameless son of a bitch- you wanted to tell jeonghan to go kill himself, but you took a deep breath, trying to be professional about the situation

"your wife wouldn't like to see this, you better let me go."

he chuckled, now leaning in as he placed a hand on your waist, holding you in place. 

“you are probably right, but who says that i care? do you care?”

“yes. i do!”

“really?” he laughed. his mouth on your ear now, his hands started moved over your body. “then why don’t you push me away?”

“you are married, jeonghan”

“so? my wife isn’t here, is she?” he placed a wet kiss on your neck, that make you gasped. “maybe you are enjoying this…”

“do you have a free relationship?” jeonghan didn’t answer, he just laughed again. “that’s so fucking wrong. if i knew that you are married, nothing will happened in that bar, and after… what that fuck, who owns the apartment where we had sex?”

“is mine. only mine!” he laughed.

“did she cheated you too? is it some type of revenge?”

“no” he shook his head. “i’m cheating cause i want you… so bad.” his hands start moving up your thighs, pushing up the hem of your dress. “stop acting like you really care for it, you aren’t pushing me away”

“eunbin… your kid…”

“i don’t care!” he kissed your neck. “she isn’t here, is she?”

“but if she discover it..”

“then she wouldn’t have to discover it, that’s the whole point, pretty!” he kissed your neck again, a lot of wet kiss when he touched your tight.

“you are disgusting!”

“and you are a whore! so we match a lot…”

jeonghan kissed you

he kissed you in a wild way, in the naughty and delicious way that you liked so much, his tongue dominating the kiss, his hand roaming your body without any shame, his waist glued to yours making you feel his cock in his jeans, fuck, jeonghan was the devil!

“i’m gonna tell everything to your wife!”

he laughed, and grabbed your hair, forcing you to look at him.

“are you threatening me with that? really? and what will you tell her? that you are letting a married man use you as he pleases?”

you hit him in the face, hard, before spitting out the words that were in your head.

"don't treat me like a slut."

jeonghan laughed, his typical sadistic laugh, lightly caressing his cheek before turning to you again.

"but as far as i know, a woman who moans, fucks and cums for a married man is a slut!"

you wanted to resist, you wanted to hit jeonghan and expose to his wife how much of a scoundrel he was, but you did the opposite, you kissed him, kissed him as if you needed it, kissed him sitting on the table and letting him have free access to between your legs.

"you're pathetic!" you muttered as he knelt down, leaving kisses on the inside of your thigh as he lifted your skirt.

"and you're a disgusting whore! you know, we deserve each other!"

"be quick, you've already given me enough trouble for today!" you complained.

"i'm leaving on a 'business trip' on tuesday, i promise i'll fuck you properly in my apartment" he mocked, making it clear that the times he slept with you were because he made up to his wife that he was working.

but he got the message, undoing his belt and pulling your panties to the side, mocking how wet you were with the whole situation.

"what's up? my little bitch got wet watching me be a good father? do you have some kind of breed kink, huh? do you want me to cum inside you, to get you pregnant?" Jjonghan put two fingers inside you, just to make sure how wet you were, and as he imagined, you were fucking wet. "imagine how beautiful you'd look pregnant of me."

"shut up, i'd rather die than have your child!"

"you say that but you're spreading your legs for me, like a slut!" jeonghan pulled your hair hard.

"i do charity work for motherfuckers sometimes"

jeonghan spat in your face, making you laugh, you knew you had affected him and that was what you wanted.

and the next second he was inside you, fucking you as if your office door wasn't unlocked, fucking you as if his wife wasn't waiting meters away in the parking lot, fucking you as if he were a single man...

jeonghan threw your bag on the floor, laying you down on the table and fucking you even harder, holding your mouth so you wouldn't moan loudly and draw even more attention (as if the table shaking wasn't enough)

"sluts like you are only good for this, full pussy and covered mouth!"

"what's the name of that friend of yours?" you questioned, making jeonghan arch his eyebrow in confusion "ah, jeon wonwoo..."

"what's wrong with wonwoo?"

"i'm sure he'd love to help you keep my mouth quiet!"

"slut!" jeonghan growled before thrusting into you again, this time angrily, squeezing your neck and grabbing your waist. "you're mine, only mine, this pussy is my toy!"

"no, love! a slut's pussy has no owner... and you know it!"

jeonghan's eyes darkened, you had never seen him hate him, but that was exactly what he was feeling at that moment, jeonghan tightened his grip on your neck, leaning his body against yours and thrusting into you even harder.

"you're not even crazy enough to fuck with Wonwoo, i'll end his life," he growled once more.

"i'm not yours, jeonghanie," you teased him.

"you're. mine. only mine. my personal whore. my toy. my bitch. mine. mine. mine."

and you cummed.

yes, you admit it, it's pathetic to come with a married guy calling you 'mine', but you came.

"tell me you're not mine now, damn it! tell me you're not mine after you've come on my dick!"

jeonghan kept thrusting into you, but all you did was seriously tell him to stop.

he respected you, still confused by the situation.

"what's wrong? did i do something wrong? is everything okay? did i hurt you?"

"i came!" you answered simply.

"yes, i never let you not come..." you laughed, leaving him even more confused.

and then you stood up, still staggering a little, but lowering your skirt and panties, and picking up your bag from the floor.

"what are y-"

"your time with that whore here is over, jeonghan... by the way, tell wonwoo that i changed my mind and now i really want to sit on his cock."

"he... he... WHAT?"

"shit, i thought he told you that at that party at his house he tried to fuck me while you were sleeping." you laughed, knowing that you wouldn't be the only one to find out things that night. "good night, by the way... your wife pays me not to lower eunbin's grades... but i don't think she's gonna tell you about that, right... i'd have to explain to you what other secrets i keep."

and then you closed the door, leaving a confused Jeonghan.

and hard.

♡ @highvivvy, @bath1lda, @unlikelysublimekryptonite, @gyuguys, @aaa-sia

[seitmai]

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, you’re met with a smiling family picture. Only, you’re not in it. Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

Uff 😬

The nickname stings you. Your name isn’t Mitchell because your biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because your mother’s husband knew you weren’t his and would rather die before letting you take his name.

Damn

Your throat is thick with the knowledge that all you knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that you’ll never know.

To know that you don't know a lot and will never know more is rough...

It’s been almost two years since you even set foot in this house last. If you had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… you sit and think to yourself about if you would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

Sometimes being honest to oneself is not easy

He stares down at the pizza between the two of you as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when you had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Hey, nobody slander thin crust there are far worse kind of pizza ☝🏻

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. You both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken. “…For what?” You ask quietly, lips tugging into a small frown. “I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows you probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in your spot, and not know how to talk about it.

God they are lowkey awkward together and neither of them just knows what to do with themselves 🥴

“We weren’t that close.” You tell him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. You’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

I feel like this maybe hurts Bradley more than her..

Your teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

👀

Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese.

I mean it could be worse lol🤷🏻‍♀️

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

At that I would have laughed too 🤭

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of your tongue with a shrug of your shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That's really shitty, especially knowing Mav's reputation 🥴

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father. 

At that they really share a bit of similar fate

Her boots hit the ground, your lips parting slightly as you realise that she’s headed right for you. Bradley feels your arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way you’re trying to shrink behind him. Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch you when he can see how unnerved it makes you.

Good thinking Bradley, nothing worse than an unwanted hug by a stranger 🫣

You check back over your shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind you, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression. 

I'm sure he does 🤭

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.” Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him.

It seems his feeling run deep 😬

“But— he’s dead.” You frown, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?” Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at you, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in your expression, no fear or sadness. Your father deserved more than that. “The point is to bring him home.” He bites from your side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

This is rough... I get her questioning the process, it's not something that someone is usually confronted with..

You’re biting at the inside of your cheek so hard that you must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of your jeans and breathing like you’re trying not to cry.

🥺🥺🥺

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“ “Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around you. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes your bicep, bending his knees so he can catch your eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.” You know that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, you’re sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left you with no idea of who he really is.

She has every right to be angry, upset and sad even if he really just ries to be nice, this is just not a good situation anyway and with the news of the investigation it just got SO MUCH worse🥴

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of your plate for you. The idea sparks in him. “You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at your bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in your eyes not to spill over.

I like that he is thinking practical!

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that you’re in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than you. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse. He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud. “You could stay at my place, for a night or two.” 

Just a night or two, sure 😏🤭

Ashes, Ashes | One | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

masterlist | prologue | next chapter

Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

Warnings: mitchell!reader, no physical descriptors other than the implication that Bradley is taller, no use of YN, age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Crossing the threshold into Maverick’s home doesn’t come naturally to either one of you. This place is something that you had both left behind. Outgrown. It’s solely his. It’s not your home and it has never been, until now. Now, you’re stuck here until things are figured out.

On that fourteen hour drive down to San Diego, you had a lot of time to think. How long is a person supposed to wait for a body to turn up before they go ahead and throw the funeral without it?

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, you’re met with a smiling family picture. Only, you’re not in it. 

Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

This picture is of a real family. Hung on the wall opposite the front door is a picture of Nick and Carole Bradshaw holding their infant son. He’s bald and gummy. They’re grinning and showing him off like a prize trophy — so proud of him even though all he did in those days was drool and pee himself. 

These days, their infant son is up to more important things. Their infant son grew to an upsettingly grand height and is carrying two of your bags in one hand behind you today.

“C’mon, Mitchell — these are heavy.” Bradley huffs softly from behind you, reminding you that you’re standing stationary and blocking his path. 

The nickname stings you. Your name isn’t Mitchell because your biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because your mother’s husband knew you weren’t his and would rather die before letting you take his name.

You shrug your duffel bag closer to your body and turn left. Bradley huffs under the weight of your luggage from behind you, watching you walk your cute butt in completely the wrong direction. “Wait, where are you going?”

Not struggling at all under the weight of your single duffel bag, you turn slowly to face him and frown slightly. “My room.” 

You don’t remember Bradley. Not in your own memories, anyway. You know he was around, you’ve seen him in pictures but the image in your head doesn’t match. Not quite right. Like puzzle pieces bent and forced together.

He’s taller than he looked at his high school graduation, which sits pictured and framed above Mav’s mantle. Older, but that’s to be expected. Up close, he looks more like his mother than his father. A slight bump in his nose and scars, nicely healed, but jagged and raised nonetheless dusted his cheek and his throat. 

Even with all those differences, there’s a familiarity to him that makes this all feel a little bit less suffocating.

Bradley’s brows draw together. He gives a small nod in the direction of the spare room. “That’s… I usually stayed in that room.”

“Oh.” You hum. With Bradley being ten years your senior, the room was his long before it was yours. With him growing up so close by, it was probably his much more frequently than it was yours. It’s not like you kept anything here anyway. It’s just a guest room that you would occupy every now and again.

There’s a brief quiet between you. 

“I just figured you could take the big room. ‘Til you get settled. I’ll go home once your car is fixed, if that’s what you want.” Bradley adds on. That sad little look on your face is killing him. 

The big room. The loft room upstairs. You’re pretty sure that you’ve never even been upstairs in this house.

“You’re staying too?” 

Oh. Yeah. He hadn’t addressed that point yet. Truthfully, he hadn’t even been planning to stay. He hasn’t even packed an overnight bag. But, from the second that you stepped out of the car and looked up at the house with that look on your face, he hadn’t even considered leaving you here alone.

“Just ‘til we get your car fixed,” He offers with a small shrug. “I’ll be here to run you around until then.”

Like he’s doing this for your sake. Natasha has her own life to get back to and Bradley can’t stand the thought of going back to his apartment alone. 

“Okay,” You agree, turning to peer down the hall towards the spare room. It’s nothing special — it really never felt like yours. “Alright, I’ll take Pete’s room.”

Pete. You call Maverick ‘Pete’ now. 

Bradley just nods, shifting the weight of your bags and nodding for you to head for the stairs. All the floors in this house are tan oak. The entryway is now herringbone. With the help of a friend, Pete had done the entire thing himself. 

Of course, as you walk silently across it, neither one of you would know that. Neither one of you was speaking to him last May, which was why he had needed a project in the first place.

Natasha’s outside on the phone. Bradley’s footsteps thud on the wood of the stairs behind you, following you up. You stop at the top, leaving just enough room for Bradley to stand there behind you.

The door to Maverick’s room is open. His bed is made. There’s a book thrown on top of it, the spine cracked and used, the pages yellow from years out in the sun.

“No way is he still trying to fucking finish War and Peace.” Bradley steps around you with your bags in his hands and heads straight for the book. Pete started this book before Bradley finished elementary school. Bradley twists and looks back at you. “He always gets bored and stops reading, then forgets his page and starts again.”

Another slow nod. One foot in front of the other, your shoes along the tan oak floors. Your fingers trail the white walls. Maverick wouldn’t have minded. This place was always messy before. It’s not now. 

This house is vacant and quiet, but it’s far from empty. It’s filled to the brim, practically pulling apart at the seams with everything that Maverick was and planned to be. He was finishing War and Peace — he made it to chapter 253 this time; further than he had ever made it before. 

Your throat is thick with the knowledge that all you knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that you’ll never know.

Four days of knowing, a fourteen hour drive down here, and it’s a book that stings like a cold slap to the face, reminding you of why exactly it is that you’re here.

Fire burns behind your eyes, blistering and stinging as Bradley sets your bags on the floor with a soft thud.

He turns with his attention completely on the book, his fingers extending towards the peeling cover of the paperback. His fingers curl around its weathered pages and he lifts it tenderly, examining the front at first.

It’s too early to start this process bawling your eyes out, and you refuse to let Russian Literature be your downfall, again. That thick feeling sits in your throat like a stack of weights as you sit down on the end of Maverick’s bed. The mattress is soft, taking your weight without a squeak of complaint. Maybe he finally listened to you and got a bed that wasn’t so harsh on his back.

It’s been almost two years since you even set foot in this house last. If you had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… you sit and think to yourself about if you would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

“I’ll change the sheets and stuff, then I’ll get out of your hair for a bit.”

Lifting your head, you blink at him. He has already started to pull back the comforter and strip the bottom sheet from the bed, awkwardly forcing you onto your feet again. 

Mobile once more, you turn slowly to take in your surroundings. This is Maverick’s room. It’s his house, you were prepared for that much — but this is his room. The last thing you want is to be alone in it all night.

“Oh. Sure,” You nod, setting into motion to help take the sheets off. You watch him instead of what you’re doing. 

He’s so methodical about it, like none of this phases him at all. But then, you’ve not seen how he has been for the past few days. “I was thinking of just ordering food tonight, since I’m kinda tired — and Pete never had groceries. Would you want… to maybe join?”

“Sure.” Bradley nods, tugging the pillows out of the cases. He glances up to you with a strictly polite, neutral smile. Quiet settles between the two of you until the bed is just a bare mattress and uncovered pillows. 

There’s a moment of total stillness between the two of you. Your gaze flickers up, meeting his, and the realization settles between the two of you. Maverick’s favourite cologne was a French thing that some woman in the eighties had liked. Citrus in the shade of cypress wood. The scent fills the room like he’s standing between the two of you.

Bradley glances down at the white sheets in his hands. The snowy white peaks of those mountains, Maverick’s aircraft spiralling into them, engulfed in flames. In a sick way, Bradley hopes that he didn’t manage to eject. At least then, it would have been instant. Maverick wouldn’t have felt anything.

You watch his adam’s apple bob in his throat from the other side of the bed. The last you had heard, Mav and Bradley weren’t on speaking terms. You wonder if this is as weird for him as it is for you.

“I’ll put these in the washer. You can… unpack, or whatever.” He decides finally, already taking one step backwards, headed for the door. You stand there, blinking at him. Even with those steeped, broad shoulders, he makes it through the doorframe unscathed before he turns to check where he’s going.

He probably knows this house inside and out, just like he knew your dad. Once. 

When it comes to wracking your brain and trying to remember Bradley Bradshaw, you can’t ever come up with anything. Maybe a glimpse, here and there. A blue t-shirt with green stripes. His school backpack accidentally left in the backseat of Maverick’s convertible beside your shoddily installed car seat. 

Truthfully, your experience with Bradley Bradshaw is limited. He’s just as real to you as any of the other guys in the stories you grew up hearing about. Your very own Peter Pan is downstairs right now, trying to figure out Maverick’s ancient washing machine, just so that he doesn’t have to stand up here and stare across at you.

He can’t hide from you forever, though. Evening comes, and so does hunger. 

He stares down at the pizza between the two of you as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when you had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Natasha has gone home. It’s just the two of you. Sitting in this unchanged, all too familiar kitchen. You’re barely unpacked. You set up a couple of things in Maverick’s bathroom, but it doesn’t feel right to be in the big room upstairs. That wasn’t ever your space to claim.

You chew absentmindedly at the bite you had taken. The TV in the living room is off. The record player is coated in a layer of thin dust already. It’s dead quiet. The kitchen light is dim above your heads.

There’s a chip in the corner of the table on Bradley’s side. It’s there because Bradley was running through this kitchen when he was four years old and had tripped and knocked his front tooth out right here. His thumb trails the tiny mark, wondering how his teeth had ever been that small.

Wondering why you aren’t angry with him, too.

Maverick had picked him up that day, turned him around and held Bradley while he cried, stemming the blood and quickly introducing the concept of the tooth fairy. He had done all that he could, and Bradley still found a way to resent him for what had happened to his own father.

Bradley hasn’t ever done a thing for you. Except maybe pay for this pizza. And here you are, calm as can be. 

The sauce base feels tangy and coppery, and the cheese makes him want to puke. He sets the slice down on his plate and wipes his hands on the paper towel beside him.

Finally, he lifts his head and looks at you. Your hair is up now, tucked out of your way after an afternoon of manual labour upstairs. You’re wearing a stretched out old t-shirt. Bradley assumes you got it from a boyfriend.

Really, he doesn’t think you look that much like your old man. He would really have to search for the resemblance. But, briefly, when you offer him a polite smile across the table, he knows that you’re Mav’s kid.

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. You both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken.

“…For what?” You ask quietly, lips tugging into a small frown.

“I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows you probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in your spot, and not know how to talk about it.

It’s his fault that Maverick didn’t make it home.

You stop chewing. That last bite sits in your mouth, doughy and dry all of a sudden. You stare across at him, awkwardly making yourself swallow down the last of your bite of pizza and picking up the paper towel to wipe at your mouth.

“We weren’t that close.” You tell him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. You’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

But, he knows what it’s like to be told how to grieve. He just dips his head and nods awkwardly. “Right.” 

“I got a call from an admiral the other day,” You pick up the slice of pizza and pick at its toppings. There’s no one here now to tell you not to play with your food. Mav never really cared anyway. Bradley watches you, unhungry. “Invited me down to Miramar. He said he was a friend of Mav’s and that he could talk me through… this whole thing. How it works.” You explain with a shrug.

Bradley rubs a hand over the neatly trimmed hair above his lip. It feels like he has swallowed a golf ball, sitting here like it’s normal to be discussing the measures.

He knows how it works. It won’t be as simple as it was with his own father. At least Maverick had afforded him something to bury. For you, there’s nothing.

“I’ll have to be there around eleven.” 

“Sure,” Bradley nods, scratching at the back of his neck. His legs tingle with stiffness. Clearing his throat, he shifts in the little wooden chair and stretches, knocking his foot into yours under the table. “Oh. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Your teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

“It’s fine.” You hum, pushing back in your chair and standing up from the table. “Well, I’ve been up since like… four, so I might just hit the hay.”

“Sure.” Bradley breathes out, hands braced on his thighs, eyes focussed on that tiny chip in the corner of the table. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

The downstairs bedroom seemed bigger when he was a kid. The twin-sized bunks on the carrier feel bigger than the wooden-framed bed that Maverick put in here. Bradley’s shoulder is practically hanging off the side, and the old frame creaks with each movement he makes.

It’s not like he would be sleeping much anyway. When he closes his eyes, the only thing he can see is the fireball Maverick’s plane had turned into as it fell.

Bradley’s hunched over the coffee pot by the time that you wake up. He hears you coming down the stairs and straightens up like he wasn’t three seconds from throwing the stupid thing at the wall, clearing his throat and turning around.

It occurs to him that he should have put a shirt on. This isn’t his place. It’s yours, now, he guesses — either way, he hadn’t considered making you uncomfortable. He folds his arms over his naked torso as you stroll into the kitchen, hair mussed and rubbing at your eyes.

You’re wearing big socks and the same big t-shirt you had worn to eat the pizza last night. He can’t tell if you’re wearing shorts or not.

“Morning,” He offers up, making you lift your gaze from busily tapping at your phone. Your gaze lands squarely on his navel — more so, how low his shorts sit on his hips and the way a soft trail of brown hair ventures from there to his bellybutton. 

Blinking, you find his face.

“Coffee machine’s broken, we can stop somewhere on the way to base if you like.” He leans down a little bit, like an awkward teenager shrinking away from a family picture. You lock your gaze on his, trying not to glance back down at his muscles. 

“Oh. That’s not broken — if you hit it hard enough, it’ll work.” You head right for him, fuzzy socks padding across the floor so softly that it really does startle him when you grab the copy of War and Peace that now sits on the kitchen counter, and slam the book right into the side of the coffee machine.

He whips around as the machine whirs to life. You set the book back down gently, and look up at him. He sets his jaw, brows knitted together, searching your face.

Maverick never taught Bradley anything like that. In fact — Bradley always, always was taught the opposite. You never take the easy way out; if something’s worth fixing, then you fix it right.

Then you, you on the other hand, beat the thing with the heaviest book you can find? He just doesn’t get it.

“Well. Thanks.” He guesses, turning his bemused expression back to the brewing coffee. 

He hadn’t been expecting you to do that. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, given the way he’s still glaring at the machine. That coffee pot is older than you are, and Mav never taught him that trick?

“So this guy, the one who called me,” You skim your fingers along the cool granite countertop, just to have something to do, “He was the guy calling the shots up there?”

Bradley blinks. He doesn’t know how much you know about the way all of this works. He knew everything there is to know long before he ever enlisted, but that was because he wanted to know.

“Um,” Bradley grabs his mug and takes a step back for you to get yourself one.  “He was our mission command so, kind of. He gives orders — but, y’know, everything happens fast, it’s… it’s hard to call the shots from back on the boat.” 

“Did he like Mav much?” You ask, head tucked inside the fridge door as you scan for anything to make your coffee a little less black. Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese. You swing it shut with a resigned sigh, wondering if you’ll be here long enough to need groceries.

The thought flashes across your mind — what’ll happen to this place when you leave it behind?

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

“Great.” Agitation creeps into your tone as you curl your fingers around a plain white coffee mug. All of his kitchenware is plain white. 

“What?” Bradley tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse at the look on your face, stuck between whether you’re sad or pissed off.

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of your tongue with a shrug of your shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father. 

He screws his mouth up, shaking his head and reaching for you without thought. His palm claps against your shoulder, platonic and soothing, but the first time he has touched you nonetheless. “I’ll be there. He won’t say a thing.”

Glancing upward, while his palm lingers on your shoulder, your eyes flit across his features. He doesn’t know quite what you’re searching for, or whether you find it. His fingers squeeze softly against your skin before the touch is gone all together.

You drink your coffees in parallel, both subtly miserable in your silence but comfortable in it anyway. It’s difficult to prepare for a meeting like this — you don’t have a clue of what to expect. 

Bradley wears black jeans and boots with a plain white t-shirt, which convinces you not to wear the more formal dress you had thought you’d have to wear. You slip into his passenger seat in a skirt and Mary Janes.

He drives a loud, blue vintage Bronco. It sparkles inside and out, and makes your dusty old car look even worse. 

Bradley settles behind the wheel to the sound of chilled seventies music, the radio turned low. He drives with three fingers curled around the bottom of the wheel and the other hand resting absently on the stick shift.

Even though he seems calm enough behind the wheel, you watch him chew at the inside of his cheek for the duration of the drive. Gears tick away inside his head. His knee only stops bouncing nervously when it’s time to press his foot against the pedal.

He’s not as good at pretending as he thinks he is; you silently appreciate that he tries, either way.

Bradley, truthfully, spends the entire drive thinking about the last time he was face to face with Admiral Simpson. ‘Son, I’m doing this for you.’ He had sworn, face sullen, uttering the exact same words Pete Mitchell once had when delivering the words that had torn Bradley from him the first time.

Only, Admiral Simpson wasn’t pulling Bradley’s papers — he was just putting him on a month long bereavement leave. His protests had fallen on deaf ears once again, as they had fifteen years ago. He’s now a week into that leave, but it feels like longer.

It turns out that when you cut sleep from the equation, everything feels a lot longer. In his own apartment, his routine has been getting up at 2am after hours of tossing and turning, going for a run all the way down to the docks, coming back and showering, then waiting for the sun to rise.

Last night, he’d been awake in that creaky old twin bed, struck by the realisation that if he spent all night tossing and turning — one, he might actually break the old bed frame, and two, the squeaking of it would definitely keep you up. 

All it had taken was the focus of trying to sit still for so long to finally knock him out. It was the best that he’d slept since the mission.

He kind of hopes that it’ll take him a while to figure out something to do with your car; at least that way he’ll be able to sleep at night. 

“You ready?” His voice startles you from your daydream, the engine cutting out with a jingle of the keys as he stretches forwards in his seat to shove them into his pocket. “We’re headed just over there.”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.” You’re stepping down and swinging the heavy door shut before you’re taking your next breath, leaving him to catch up to you. 

His long strides have him at your side before long, reaching ahead of you to pull open the glass door to the post headquarters. 

This process has already been easier with him at your side. He’d coolly handed over his service ID and greeted the guard at the gate by name, and he stops you from turning sharply down the wrong hallway with a soft bump of his shoulder against yours.

He catches your forearm as you try to blow right past the front desk, his grip loose but firm. 

“Rooster.” The woman behind the desk stands up sharply, looking sharp in her service khakis, her entire face creased with a deep worry. She’s older, maybe around Mav’s age. “I heard, I’m so sorry.”

Rooster loosens his hold on your forearm, his lips flattening into a line. He stands up straight, his interaction with the woman nothing if not totally polite. His thumb trails across the bend of your wrist as he nods his head towards you.

“Thank you,” He says softly, seemingly unaware of the way you’ve stiffened in the presence of this woman. “We’re, uh… we’re just here to see Cyclone, Lynn.”

Her warm, brown eyes whip towards you, widening. Recognition floods her features as she pieces together who you must be. 

Her boots hit the ground, your lips parting slightly as you realise that she’s headed right for you. Bradley feels your arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way you’re trying to shrink behind him.

Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch you when he can see how unnerved it makes you.

“We’re a little late. I’ll catch you at the O-Bar this weekend?” His fingers uncurl from your forearm and his palm falls flat between your shoulder blades, giving you a gentle nudge and silent permission to avoid her hug.

The woman stops and there’s another polite, departing exchange between the two of them while you continue down the hall.

Bradley catches up to you as you rap your knuckles against the doorframe, fingers trembling when they come to settle back against your thighs.

“Miss Mitchell.” A chair scrapes along the tiled floor, Cyclone’s signature rumbling voice carrying out into the hallway. His boots tap across the ground, his face creased with sincerity and his hand outstretched when he notices Bradley standing behind you. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

You check back over your shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind you, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression. 

Standing tall, his uniform crisp and his greying black hair combed neatly, Admiral Beau Simpson slips his palm into yours and shakes your hand curtly. The sunlight catches on his shining name badge, his face heavy with lines and sharp angles.

Letting your hand go, he then reaches to your right to shake Bradley’s. Bradley’s chest bumps your back as he leans into the handshake.

You step away from him, angling yourself closer to the doorframe. “He just gave me a ride here. Is it okay if he comes in?” You answer.

“Of course,” Cyclone is far more polite to you than he has ever been to Bradley. “Anything you need. Please, take a seat.”

It feels a little bit wrong standing before his boss in jeans, and sitting before him. Everything about this feels a little bit wrong. Bradley rests his chin against his fist.

You sit in the chair beside him, shoving your trembling hands under your thighs, straightening up and trying to look as brave as you can. 

It shouldn’t be this stranger sitting beside you in this meeting — your mother should have come with you.

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.”

Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him.

“We are forever grateful for his service, and the sacrifices he made on behalf of our country. I understand that this is an extremely difficult time, and I’d just like to say that I’m going to personally make sure that this process is as easy as it can possibly be.”

You blink at him. Jet engines rumble on outside of the window. People bustle on outside of the closed office door.

Cyclone glances towards Bradley. 

“When a man is lost in action, our resolve is to initiate a search and rescue effort as soon as possible,” The admiral explains, leaving out the part where that search and rescue effort had been delayed by seventy-two hours after Mav disappeared. “We’ve been working tirelessly, and our efforts to locate your father are ongoing.”

Your brows knit together.

“But— he’s dead.” You frown, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?”

Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at you, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in your expression, no fear or sadness. Your father deserved more than that.

“The point is to bring him home.” He bites from your side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

You shoot him a look. When it’s clear that you aren’t going to say anything else, Cyclone clears his throat to continue. 

“Miss Mitchell, we do have to prepare ourselves for the other outcome. If recovery efforts are unsuccessful, in two weeks time, he will be listed as formally ‘Missing in Action’. If that’s the case, we will honor him with a memorial service and all of his service records and personal effects 

are delivered to you.”

You drag your teeth across your bottom lip, swallowing hard and giving a small nod of your head.

“Okay. Two weeks?”

“This is going to be a longer process,” Cyclone warns you. He’d heard that you had come down specially for this, and he doesn’t want to mislead you about the time frame. “The recovery mission, if unsuccessful, will be suspended in two weeks’ time. After that, we’d like you to be local for the investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“Of ourselves. To ensure that the Navy had performed its due diligence, that kind of thing… I’d expect us to be here for a good few months.” He explains.

After that, it’s like Bradley can see a switch flip for you. 

You’re biting at the inside of your cheek so hard that you must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of your jeans and breathing like you’re trying not to cry.

He’s still confused when he’s all but chasing you across the parking lot, listening to you try to control your breathing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He tries, approaching you cautiously as you crowd yourself against the passenger side of his car. “It’s alright. We’ll get through it, it’s just a couple of months.”

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“

“Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around you. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes your bicep, bending his knees so he can catch your eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.”

You know that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, you’re sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left you with no idea of who he really is. “Of what? There’s so much that I have to—“

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of your plate for you. The idea sparks in him.

“You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at your bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in your eyes not to spill over.

You sniff, turning your gaze towards the ground. The lump in your throat burns and bobs as you try to swallow it away. 

Mav really is never coming back.

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that you’re in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than you. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse.

He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud. 

“You could stay at my place, for a night or two.” 

…

[spacexgrl]

Bittersweet ! 🎀

mdni <3 you’re here pt 2

series masterlist 💋

~ in which Ellie breaks up with you and you go a little crazy ~

ex! ellie williams x fem! reader , abby anderson x fem! reader

college au!

warnings: angst, break up, cheating!!, cursing, toxic behavior, smut in future chapters, sexual themes<3 feminine and girly reader ,not proof read!!

You watched as Ellie stuffed her duffel bag with all her clothes out of your shared closet, at least you’d have more space for new clothes, you’ll definitely do some online shopping later to cheer yourself up.

You’ve stopped crying at this point, you decided that Ellie’s not worth your tears right now she doesn’t deserve to see you in this state, you won’t let her have it. Instead you wiped your heavy tears away and tried to stay calm … at least until she left.

Ellie shifted from her kneeling position as she finished packing her things up, she was ready to leave. She tried to get close to you one last time, a poor attempt to initiate a hug which you declined with taking a step back. What the fuck was that?? you thought, she couldn’t stop making this more awkward than it already was.

“I just want you to know that.. i want to try to be friends i can’t throw away everything we went through and i hope you feel the same way..maybe not now but one day ”

Her voice broke mid sentence, but you wanted to laugh in her face. You just threw away everything we had you asshole is what you wanted to say but you bit your tongue.

You wanted to scream at her

i did everything for you! I did everything to make you happy, i gave you my all and you did fucking nothing! Why couldn’t you end things sooner huh? Fucking coward all you did was waste my time and efforts Ellie, fuck i hope you’re happy fucking Dina every night just like you did on your little studying sessions.

“i know you probably hate me and i’m really sorry i just…fuck i fell in love with her you know? I didn’t meant to i swear i-“

She went on and on with her rambling, stopping when she noticed you weren’t listening to her bullshit anymore. All she said was that Dina was better than you, you got it like 20 minutes ago fuck.

“Goodbye Ellie”

at this point you pushed her out of the doorframe, she pleaded you to let her say goodbye properly whatever the fuck that means. You didn’t wanna find out. Ellie was still so immature in the head..poor girl will never know what she wants. Yeah that was probably it you tried to make sense of the situation but it was just stupid. It wasn’t your fault that she couldn’t love you the way you deserved, it wasn’t your fault that she needed to ruin what you’ve built for some short term fun.. you were her first kiss, her first time, her first love her first everything.

You guess her thirst for new experiences won against years of loving each other.

You remembered meeting Ellie when you were little, she’d always get into fights with kids that were mean to you on the playground. She was your hero and you believe that you loved her from the very beginning. She’d talk your ear off about space, dinosaurs and how she wanted to become an astronaut when she grows up and you believed in her, you always did.

The day before she asked you to be her girlfriend, Ellie introduced you to her Father, Joel. It was such a beautiful day you got along so well and he absolutely loved you. You were convinced that you were going to marry Ellie one day…how wrong you were.

Once Ellie was accepted into college you were the first one to know but Ellie.. Seattle is so far away.. you were so happy for her but you weren’t made for a long distance relationship. I know but.. i want to get into Aerospace engineering and it’s the best place for that babe.. come with me? Please?

just like that you applied for your dream major and got accepted in no time. You wished things would’ve gone differently..

You shrugged off the memories that were floating in your head as you plopped on your king sized bed, face down on your fluffy pillows. You groaned loudly and forced yourself up against the bed frame, grabbing your phone you left on the nightstand.

Mindlessly scrolling through instagram you stumbled across a picture of her.

It was a mirror selfie in a free weights section of some gym..she was in a tight competition shirt and grey sweats, boxers peeking out just a tiny bit as she flexed her big beefy arms..god you could almost count the muscles on her stomach.

Her blonde locks were tied in a loose braid, little strands framing her freckled face..okay that’s enough you thought as you clicked on her profile taking in every picture her hands are so big you bit your lip and rubbed your thighs together without even noticing has Abby Anderson always been this hot??

Of course she has..straight A student biology major scholarship basketball team captain daughter of one of the greatest neurosurgeons in the state Abby Anderson

Ellie never told you about her feud with her..she just told you to stay away from her at all costs. Babe it doesn’t matter just ignore her trust me she’s no good..i fucking hate her guts is what you recall her saying after Abby greeted you in the hallway like one time.

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice that you accidentally liked one of her newest stories oh no no no fuck!! you panicked and threw your phone on your bed far away from you.

ding!

ding!

ding!

please be Ellie you prayed to god that it was Ellie hoping she left something important behind but you were wrong.. maybe you should just end it all now…

after contemplating your entire life for about 5 minutes you dared to click on Abby’s messages

hey doll

heard about your breakup.. Ellie’s a dick anyway lol

want me to cheer you up?

🎀

pt 3

[butterflyslinky]

It's been seven months. They've seen each other on calls, but they keep up a mask of stiff professionalism if they have to talk at all.

But now Buck's sitting in a gay bar, looking for some fun the same way he does on every 48 off. His expectations are low. No one seems to want a real relationship, not that he's really trying for one, ad the sex is mediocre at best.

Because none of them are Tommy.

He's two drinks in when he hears a familiar laugh and turns. There's Tommy, sitting four stools down and talking to the bartender. Buck wonders how he missed him entering the bar, but it doesn't matter. What matters is Tommy is here, so close, and Buck...

Okay, he'd jumped the gun asking Tommy to move in. And everything he's said before that had been...not great. Thinking about it, it's no wonder Tommy had hit the brakes. Though he maybe could have asked to just take a break instead of ending it completely.

Though it would have gone the same way, probably.

Buck knocks back his last drink and stands. He's steady on his feet as he makes his way down the bar and plops himself into the empty seat next to Tommy

Tommy doesn't look shocked to see him. Not happy, either. Just kind of resigned. "Buck?"

"Don't," Buck says. "I don't want..." He grits his teeth to force back tears. "I think we need to talk."

"Why?" Tommy asks.

"Because I have things to say to you," Buck says. "And I'm not going to let you just walk out again."

He's said all those things, in texts that sat unanswered, voice messages that were probably deleted without being heard. This time, he wants to make sure Tommy hears.

"I don't have a lot of time tonight," Tommy says.

"Then I'll say it fast. You broke my heart, Tommy. You said you were my first but not my last...but you weren't my first. I've dated and broken up before, I know what relationships are. Just cause you're a dude doesn't mean it was any different. As to not being my last, well, I've had plenty in the last seven months and none of them are going to be my anything. I told you they can be the same thing, and I mean it. I don't want to be in love with anyone the way I'm in love with you."

"Evan..."

"And if you don't want me, fine, but just say that instead of giving me some bullshit about not wanting your heart broken. Because I can't break your heart, Tommy. Maybe it's been seven months, but I'm still in love with you, and I don't see that changing any time soon." Evan looks down for a moment. "So...I know I'm a lot. I know I said some dumb shit. And I know there's a lot I still don't know. But I do know I want you to come home with me, and you don't have to stay, but...I want to try again. Now that I know a little more."

Tommy's eyes are bright when Buck looks up. "I can't."

"What?"

"Evan, I can't come with you tonight. Or any night."

Buck's stomach sinks. "Is there someone else?"

"No," Tommy says. "No, just...I got a new job. In Seattle...they offered me a command. A chance to be captain...don't get much more brave and trailblazing than that, do you, being an openly gay fire captain." He swallows hard. "I'm leaving on Monday."

Buck stares. The world seems to be tilting, even though he hasn't had that much to drink. "Oh."

"I thought you would have heard," Tommy says. "It's been kind of big news around the department."

"Everyone's been extra delicate with me," Buck says. "They don't talk about you where they think I can hear." He forces a smile. "Congratulations...you deserve it."

"Yeah?" Tommy says.

"Yeah. I'm happy for you." Buck waves to the bartender. "Put his drinks on my tab."

"Evan..."

"Least I can do. Since...since it's really over."

Tommy nods, but he looks sad. "Yeah," he says. "I guess I can just...start again. And I guess you can, too."

"Yeah," Buck says. "I guess I can."

--------------

It's a stupid idea, but Buck's full of those. He knows that it'll probably end in disaster, that he'll end up crawling back with his tail between his legs again.

But he has to try.

The airport looks just the same as it had when he dropped Abby off all those years ago. The same was it had been when he'd watched her walk out of his life, only to be seen again when it was unavoidable.

He's not doing that now.

Tommy is easy to spot, in spite of the crowd, standing in the check-in line. Buck thinks it must be kismet, that he's on time. There had been several flights to Seattle today, and he just took his best shot.

"Tommy!"

Tommy turns, and his brow furrows when he sees Buck. "Evan?"

Buck pushes his way through the crown, suitcase heavy in his hand, until he reaches Tommy's side. Tommy looks him over, then down at the bag. "Evan, what..."

"I know you said it's over," Buck says. "And that you don't want to try this again. And if you tell me to leave right now, I will. But I couldn't take the chance that I'd never see you again, even if you don't want to be in my life. And don't worry about work, Bobby transferred me to a different station than the one you're commanding, and I have a place to stay until I can find an apartment, and I'll get a new car since I gave the Jeep back to Maddie, but..."

"Evan," Tommy interrupts. "Did you just upend your life to follow me to Seattle?"

"Yes," Evan says. "If you'll let me."

Tommy stares for a minute before he pulls Buck into a kiss. And this time, Buck really knows it will be forever.

[strawberry-daiquiris]

happy lando is 25 day! quarter of a century, cheers ears etc. what a wonderful day!!!

inspired ✨ to write some established relationship landoscar celebrating to celebrate lando becoming old and haggard (spoiler: he's not, he's just being dramatic, they're probably just blonde, right?)

They’re granted a rare, extra day off for Lando’s birthday. Andrea takes Oscar to one side in the MTC, looking all sincere with a furrowed brow, and tells him he thinks it’ll be good, for Lando, for them, to have some time alone for his birthday after everything, lately. Oscar’s phone starts lighting up ten minutes later, notification after notification of his meetings getting cancelled for Wednesday, crossed through in his Google calendar. 

Not that it can really be considered time alone. Lando’s playing golf with Max at 11, and they’re going to a restaurant in London tonight with his family.

Still, it has been nice, spending a couple of nights at the hotel together. It’s the kind of place they don’t really stay that often, grand in an old fashioned way, paint chipping off corners and daring you to complain when it’s all part of the character. Last night Oscar went for a swim, and the only other people in the pool were nearly triple his age. He had a great conversation with Mary, celebrating her 50th wedding anniversary, cooing over how nice a boy he is.

Lando’s got a special relationship with the girl on the front desk after she fixed the pizza disaster. He tells Oscar about it in a vague way that’d be pretty worrying, if he hadn’t been watching Max’s stream at the time, curled up in his bed in Monaco thinking he should’ve flown in a day earlier. 

Lando’s in bed himself, right now, still snoring. Oscar’s managed to pull on a pair of joggers he doesn’t think are actually his to open the door to room service. He’d arranged breakfast direct with the kitchen, trying to bypass Lando’s card on file to sign for it himself. It’s not really a birthday surprise, after all, if you make the person celebrating pay for it. 

“Thanks,” he whispers, relieved when he sees it’s Lando’s pizza girl. “Did you get the note about…”

“Mayonnaise?” Her smile as she says it makes something curl in Oscar’s stomach. The horrifying idea that anybody else but him knows Lando’s quirks, even when Oscar knows they’re on show for the world to see. Half of Twitter probably knows about the mayonnaise thing. “Yeah, we might have to get an extra delivery in if he keeps staying.”

Oscar smiles, laughs, even though inside he’s sort of plotting how he can get Lando barred from staying here ever again. They could buy somewhere, near the MTC, he reckons, with their salaries.

As soon as the thought comes, Oscar shakes it off.

It’s mad talk, wanting to buy a house with the guy you’ve been seeing for six months, even if you’ve known him longer, even if you spend most of your lives in each others pockets. 

He notices the snoring has stopped when he starts wheeling the trolley into the main area of the suite. Oscar frowns. Silence is never a good sign, with Lando. It’s either the snuffling breaths of his sleep, the repetitive sounds of a game, or incessant talking. He’s been silent more, lately. 

Oscar pops his head around the door to the bedroom. Lando’s laying on his back, frowning at something in his hand. For a second, Oscar thinks it’s his phone, that Lando’s back reading the bullshit people are writing about him again.

“Uh, hey,” Oscar says, then stops. Not exactly how you greet your boyfriend on his birthday. Even if he’d said it last night when the clocks flickered to midnight, buried deep inside Lando, kissing his neck and his shoulders as they both tried to stave off coming for a little bit longer. “Happy Birth-”

“Have you seen this?” Lando interrupts, sitting up abruptly, holding himself up on one elbow. He sticks his hand out in Oscar’s direction. “I’ve got fricken’ grey pubes.”

Alright, so not his phone then.

Oscar can’t help but laugh, one of the special ones he thinks he reserves pretty much only for Lando, collapsing a bit into his own chest with a huff, letting out the warm air that collects in his chest and has been whispering you love him for a good year now. 

“Can’t say I noticed that one last night,” Oscar tells him, and Lando rolls his eyes, brandishing what Oscar now knows is a pubic hair in the air. “Alright fine, I’m coming, let me see.”

He climbs onto the bed, the joggers he’s now sure are Lando’s slipping further and further down his arse as he crawls. He kicks Lando’s legs apart so he can rest between them, and Lando automatically curls an ankle over his. It’s what they do when they can’t touch properly - in meetings, on planes, sitting in the back of cars in countries that’d kick them out or worse if they knew.

It’s been easier, since they told Andrea and Zak, since it’s gone from secret to just private, at least at work. 

Oscar takes the pube from Lando, holding it up to the slither of light that’s coming in from where they’ve not quite closed the curtain.

Lando looks up at him a bit hopeful, like he’s desperate to be proven wrong. Happier to find out he’s colour blind to greyscale than being old. 

Unfortunately, there’s no mistaking it. It’s definitely lighter than the rest.

“Ah, that does look a little grey, mate, yes.”

Lando groans, flopping down against the pillows, screwing his eyes shut. 

“Might as well just die,” he says dramatically. Oscar sits back, sliding his hands onto Lando’s naked thighs, rubbing them, watching the muscles tense and getting a bit distracted by just how hot he is. It’s a better option, sometimes, than listening to him. “I’m fucking old. Do they even let old people drive? I’m gonna need a fucking pube transplant.”

Oscar snorts. Convenient that he’s forgotten about Fernando being nearly twenty years older than him. 

“You don’t need a pube transplant,” Oscar says, using the sensible voice he puts on when he needs to explain something to Lando. He’s complained before it makes Oscar sound like a teacher, storming off into another room and coming back ten minutes later with a wicked glint in his eye and a potentially slightly illegal PornHub tab open in incognito. “They’re fine. Look…”

He slides his fingers into the tuft Lando’s got above the fat base of his dick. It’s pretty much the same consistency as his facial hair, which he’s absolutely forbidden to mention if he doesn’t want Lando getting the huff for a half hour. 

“Very brown, completely normal for a 25 year old.”

Lando groans again.

“25 is so old, it’s halfway to fucking 50.” Lando grumbles. “Who’s even 50? Aren’t they all dead?”

“Mark’s nearly 50,” Oscar says, then cringes immediately, curling his fingers a bit too tight in Lando’s pubes. His head veers up, eyes a bit dark. Number one rule, no mentioning Mark when either of them is naked, it never ends well. “And er, our Dads? Andrea’s older than that too, and um… Zak.”

Lando screws his face up.

“Oscar, don’t mention Zak when you’re touching my dick, please.”

Despite the annoyance, there’s a hopefulness in the way he says it. Oscar is more than happy to oblige, if it gets him off the hook. He slides down the bed, and even though Lando hasn’t showered and still smells of sweat and come from last night, Oscar takes him into his mouth. He might not be able to play golf, but he can organise breakfast and give a mean blowjob, so he reckons he’s alright. 

Lando’s easy for it, writhing and bucking his hips, and Oscar wants to make it good. Eases Lando’s hips up so he can slide deeper, feeling the press at the entrance to his throat.

After Lando comes, he starts choking, and Oscar has to push him back gently, come still coating his mouth. Lando’s really good at things like this, immediately sitting up to caress the back of Oscar’s head, looking worried. It’s one of the best parts about doing stuff with someone who’d never been with a bloke before Oscar, actually. He still finds the gross parts of sex vaguely horrifying. 

“Are you alright?” Lando asks, and Oscar nods, pressing his fingers into his mouth and swiping around until he finds the culprit, dragging it out from his throat and holding it up.

They both look at it. Drenched in Oscar’s saliva, it’s darker than the first, but it’s still unmistakably grey.

“Don’t,” Lando warns, and Oscar nods, reaching his hand off the bed and flicking his fingers until it drops to the floor, someone else’s problem. “Fucking don’t.”

Oscar snorts, dropping his lips to the inside of Lando’s knee, kissing the soft hairless part that’s only for him. He nods to the door, and the trolley with the steaming plates of waffles, pancakes, and inexplicably, mayonnaise.

He smiles. It’s criminal, really, how much he likes Lando.

“Breakfast?”

[waterlooletterwrb]

WRITE WITH ME!

I will start, and you can use the reblog to continue this story however you desire! The idea is that post by post we do a longer story (but if you wanna post your version somewhere else feel free to do so, you just remember to credit me!).

The One rule: You can't gender the Elf!Reader character.

If you need, add more warnings to your post!

OTP: Mairon (Sauron) x Elf!Reader

Universe: Rings of Power / Tolkien

Warnings: main character death, angst, blood, "you can fix him" plot;

Summary: You're the one who stole the Dark Lord's heart, yet you're dying in his arms.

A Forbidden Promise

"Don't go. I — I cannot follow you there. You can't go. You can't go." His voice was frenetic, desperate in a way the dark lord never sounded. How could he not be? You're dying in his arms, the only sweet touch, warmth, love he's ever known. And he will never be able to follow you to Mandos. "Please, I will never be able to go with you there, please."

His plea sounds like he wants to go tho. A begging, maybe the first time in more than two ages that Mairon of the Maiar actually regrets his choices. In you he found his perfection. And now he would lose it. Was that the vengeance of the Valar?

You raise your weak hand, resting it on this face. With your thumb you wipe one of the tears from his cheek. Even now he is as beautiful as the first time you saw each other.

"I — I will come back. For you, I will come back." Your voice is not much more than an whisper. Yet, somehow you make a disbelieving smile appears on his lips.

"Who would give up paradise for me? For Sauron?" The name disgust you as much as it disgust him, and your face probably shows it because he sighs. "If you're leaving me, at least leave saying the truth. It's too... cruel to say it. For I never hoped before."

That makes you give him a pity sad smile. Ignoring the pain, you do everything you can to raise yourself. He holds you tighter, his warmth is what you need to concentrate even when your vision starts to fade.

"Mairon, endanya¹. Hear the last words of the one who stole your heart." This make you see for one last time the sweet smile that he only ever directed to you. "As I promised once, I will never lie to you."

He presses his forehead against yours. For the last time you breathe the same air. "So I dare to command you, Mairon or whatever name you desire to hear now: learn to hope." I little cry escapes your lips, and you feel his hands tremble where he holds you, for a moment you lose your mind and all you can hear is the blood dripping. It's a shame, his always beautiful tunics will forever be stained within your blood now.

Even so, he won't stop holding you. So you do everything you can to reassure him again. He needs to understand, he must believe.

"Learn to hope." You mumble. "For I shall return to you."

You no longer can see or feel, your hand falling from his face is the first sign you went to the undying lands. But you were right. And Mairon, Sauron, does not let you go. He holds you tightly, in a crying so long it's impossible to believe that that destroyed and devastated being was once Morgoth's heir.

The grief is too much and, when he finally let you, there's no one to hear but the wind while he whispers:

"I — I'm yours to command, endanya. I will hear whatever name you call me. I will do whatever you wish. I will hope — I will hope for you."

A promise and a threat. Because in his soul he knows; you were the only one that could stop what's coming for Middle Earth. You were the only one that could stop him.

So now even the wind hopes. You need to return.

••••••••••••••••

Endanya¹ = if i did the word correctly it should be quenya for "my love/my soul", but in a deeper way of calling the one you love "your everything". In my mind, when Sauron says it he is also telling that the reader is his light.

[yelenaslyubov]

I Don’t Bite

main masterlist || requests || autumn fic list

requested by @belovasecho

a/n: two fics in one week? two fics back to back? who am i🫣this was so fun to write! you can probably tell by now, found family is one of my favorite things to write, hence why a lot of my fics have so many MCU characters in them. i hope you enjoy <3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ pairing: yelena belova x reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ warnings: heavy flirting, language (but i honestly don’t remember), fluffyyy

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ description: on the day of the avengers annual fall family get together, you spend your time baking and watching football commence. during the usual bonfire, the cold leaves you seeking the warmth of another avenger you have a dirty little secret with.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 2k

When the leaves are at their peak orange glow and it’s just cold enough to stay outside, Steve named it our “Family Fall Festival” weekend. You, along with the rest of the Avengers never celebrated Thanksgiving. This was due to the foundational ideas of it along with the fact that the Avengers were a melting pot of different cultures and places. There was no point in celebrating.

Instead, the team had made their own holiday that consisted of baking, games, gossiping, a large feast, drinking, and a large bonfire to end the day. It was a way to create your very own fall holiday under different premises.

For the majority of the day, you spent time with Wanda in the kitchen baking. You baked everything from apple pie to shortbread cookies. People came and went all day, snatching up different delectables to eat on their way to their next destination.

Since the Avengers really were your family combined with your coworkers, it was nice to have a day with no chaos and only love.

The sun was going down now, signaling the near ending of a wonderful day. You were finishing up your last batch of chocolate chip cookies when you watched some of the guys play a rough game of football. Though they did it every year, you weren’t sure why they continued since it always ended in a fight.

This time was no different as you watched Peter get tackled to the ground by an angry Pietro. There was no way that one did not hurt. You may be Avengers, but you sure as hell still bleed.

You walked down to the field below the compound to see what was the matter. Peter was laying on the ground with a crowd around him.

“That was awesome!” You heard Rocket’s distinctive voice shout.

“Guys, it’s not funny, he’s hurt,” Carol said concerningly.

“I swear I did not mean to hit you that hard, it just… happened,” Pietro explained.

Peter groaned while laying stiff in pain. “Yeah, for sure. The guy with super speed didn’t mean to run full speed ahead into my body…”

“He’s got a point,” you said. Regardless of the situation, you tried to hide your laughter due to Peter’s attempt at being upset.

In the distance, you saw Yelena, Nat, Kate, and Valkyrie huddled next to each other. The thing that stood out most was Yelena’s laughter that resembled the honk of a goose. She was completely bent out of shape chuckling until she was red in the face.

This might do you in for good, and then you would be a terrible friend. You couldn’t stand there and laugh in Peter’s face, so you chose to walk away instead. You found yourself next to Drax, the worst person to be near if you’re trying to be serious. You hoped this time it might be different.

He had his hand buried in a bag of chips and was staring in the distance. You stood next to him and watched as Peter started to get back on his feet. Once he stood up, you noticed the large and noticeable patch of mud that was spread on the back of his pants.

Once Drax caught wind of Peter’s pants, his loud laughter soon followed. He abandoned his bag of chips and clapped his hands together as he lost all control of his body.

“His pants!” he yelled. “They have… they have poop on them! HAHA!” He tried to speak between his wheezing and screaming but it was no use.

“I’m going to take Peter inside, why don’t you guys start the fire,” Steve suggested while grabbing one of Peter’s shoulders and guiding him inside.

“Ooo, you guys are in trouble,” Kamala said.

“You can’t lie, it was a little funny,” you chuckled.

“Oh absolutely, it was hilarious!”

After the fun around Peter's accident had died down, everyone made their way over to the large fire pit that was reserved for the bonfire. Surrounding the pit were several wooden chairs and logs that had been strategically placed to feel the fire’s warmth.

The stars were starting to make their appearance in the sky which meant it was time to start up the fire. Bucky, Sam, and Clint started to work their magic starting the fire with the several dozen large logs that already resided in the pit. Some of the guys spent the morning chopping down a tree or two and splitting logs in preparation for tonight.

In a few minutes, there were sparks flying around the logs until each one was lit aflame. Soon, the fire’s heat was spreading around to everyone, except for you apparently.

You looked around at the faces circling the fire; Agatha and Rio sat far behind the group, Nat and Wanda were now sitting together, and some of the guys were huddling around in a group conversing and laughing.

Though the fire exerted much warmth, you still found yourself shivering underneath your coat. Just in time, Peter was walking towards you in the distance.

“You okay?” you asked him.

“As good as I can be.” He sat down on the log next to you with a groan. “At least it’s a nice night huh?”

“Yeah, for sure,” you said between shivers.

“Oh no, are you cold?”

“Uh, just a tad.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

You expected him to drape part of the blanket he had around him over you, but he did no such thing. Peter was your best friend, but most of the time he was clueless.

“Well, I’m gonna go sit with some of the guys. I’ll catch you later.” Peter awkwardly waved goodbye as you laughed to yourself at his oblivion.

You took this as an opportunity to get up and move to a chair closer. Since most people claimed the chairs before the logs, the only chair that was left was the wooden two-seater chair made for two people.

You sat down closer to the fire and tried to cozy up. You regretted not bringing a blanket down from your room and you were far too lazy to walk all the way back up to find one.

Deciding on just suffering the consequences, you stayed by the fire with only your coat for comfort. To your dismay, warmth still did not find you. You were starting to think you should go inside when the chair next to you creaked.

You looked to your left to find Yelena sitting down, one of the last people you had thought of.

“Cold?” she asked sarcastically. You knew Yelena well enough to know it was sarcasm from the get go.

You knew Yelena, but most everyone else would say otherwise. Based on a decision between the two of you, you opted to keep the relationship between you secret.

You and Yelena had been dating in private for around a year now. You both felt that it would be better to work under the circumstances that you weren’t forming a strong personal relationship. This became hard as time went on, especially now that certain people started to catch on. This was reinforced when you looked across the fire to see Kate, Valkyrie, and Carol staring between you and Yelena with a smirk.

“Uh, what are you doing over here?” you asked her nervously.

“So you’re not cold?”

“No, I’m very cold actually, but-”

“Then no more talking.” Immediately, she unwrapped the thick blanket from around her shoulders and tossed it over you and her own lap. The gesture made you smile and her blatentness made you laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you said.

“And you did not answer mine… at first at least.”

“Exactly, which means you get to answer my question next,” you smiled devilishly.

“Can’t a woman just sit where she pleases? This is America after all.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Touché, Yelena.”

You usually spent your time staring at her from afar, or catching glimpses while you were paired on missions, but it wasn’t very often you saw her in her natural form.

Her cheeks were glowing bright and hot as the reflection of the fire casted shimmering shadow. Even though her hair was a mess most of the time, it was still perfectly laid and complimented the rest of her so perfectly. And even though she was wearing a sweatshirt that was clearly too big for her and sweatpants to match, she was still the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

Having Yelena close like this around everyone else was dangerous. Times like these, all you wanted to do was pull her close and take in everything about her.

You could feel Yelena scoot a little bit closer to you. She knew how easily you could be flustered, so it didn’t help when she slipped her hand under the blanket to find yours.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, as if anyone could hear you anyway.

“What, I can’t hold your hand now? I don’t bite, you know,” Yelena huffed, adding a playful smirk at the end. “Well… most of the time.”

You smacked her arm. “Yelena, not here!”

“I’m sorry! How can I not when you look like that?”

Her admiration made you blush. Even with the warmth from the fire, Yelena couldn’t mistake the red spreading all over your cheeks. She took your hand more firmly and squeezed it.

She leaned in towards your face and brought her lips to your ears. “I’ve missed you, detka.”

Her mother tongue never fails to make you shiver. It made it even worse when she decided to bring it out around others.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whispered.

You stole a long look into her hazel eyes. Her lashes hung low as the day dragged on, giving her a dazed look that you loved. Things felt so much more normal like this than in secret, though you both knew it was for the best.

You heard snickering and you looked across the fire to see Valkyrie, Carol, and Kate giggling to each other and staring at the two of you. Yelena gave them a nice middle finger to shut them up, but you couldn’t deny that you liked the attention of the two of you being seen together.

Once the three of them stopped their mocking, Yelena turned her attention back to you. She looked around and when she saw the coast was clear, she lifted your hand to her lips and gave it a quick kiss.

You couldn’t resist any longer and leaned against her body. She had the perfect balance of strength and comfort.

“Have I ever mentioned that you smell amazing?” you asked Yelena.

“Maybe like once or twice,” Yelena smirked.

Instead of holding your hand, Yelena moved her hand to rest on the skin of your back. She scratched up and down and drew small circles. At this rate, you would be asleep within the next few minutes.

Your assumption was correct, her affection making your eyes heavy. For once, you finally felt warm all throughout, a feeling you had been craving all day.

When you awoke again, your surroundings were dark, indicating the fire had gone out. Looking up, you saw Yelena looking up at the stars wide awake. Somehow, you had ended up with your head in her lap.

You slowly sat up and looked around. The party seemed to be over, as the two of you were the only ones left.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Yelena greeted you.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Long enough for everyone to stare at you while you slept with your head on me.”

You groaned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey, why are you saying sorry?”

“I don’t know, I guess because of the whole secrecy thing.”

Yelena stared at you harder. “If I can love you in secret, I can love you just as loud for everyone to see.”

Your heart swelled at the sentiment. You took your chance and grabbed the side of her head and pulled her into a passionate kiss. Oh how you had missed the taste of her.

She left a kiss on your cheeks and your forehead to top it off. “Let’s go inside then, hmm? The party has just begun,” she smiled.

“You really know how to make every situation dirty, don’t you?”

“What can I say, it’s a gift.”

With the cold autumn chill and stars to guide you, Yelena led you back inside the compound after the end of the most perfect day.

.

.

.

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[dragon-gem]

I love the bonus 😂😭 imagine Jay finding it though hahahaha

-

Nya dug through the chest, smiling at all the old clothing and notebooks filled with drawings and stickers. “Look, Jay! The first few iterations of the Samurai X mech!”

Jay glanced up from where he was examining an old practice sword of hers, smiling at the designs drawn in the shaky hand of a 15-year-old. “Now that is a throwback. Who knew you still had all this old stuff in here?”

“As if you don’t have a similar trunk stuffed somewhere,” she teased, “I’m just actually showing you mine.”

“Point taken.” He pulled out another notebook, this one bright pink, sparkly, and completely covered in stickers. “What’s this?”

“I don’t remember.” Nya scooted back, peering at it thoughtfully before going back to the halfway empty chest. “I think Kai bought it for me. It’s probably empty.”

“Maybe.” Jay opened it up, his eyes going wide. “Oh wow.”

“What?”

Nya glanced over at him, her gaze flicking over the page.

It was covered in her signature. But not just any old signature.

Nya Walker.

Mrs. Nya Walker.

Mrs. Walker.

She blushed. “Ahh— see, you were never supposed to see that.”

Jay laughed, flipping through it. “Is this whole thing filled with this?”

“Most of it— okay, you don’t have to laugh like that! Give it back!”

“Hold on, Water Lily, I want to see how many times you wrote my last name—“

“Jay!” She reached for it, blushing so brightly her cheeks were burning. “Oh my FSM, this is so— you were literally never supposed to lay eyes on that—“

“How old were you?” Jay laughed again, finally letting her take the notebook. “Come on, tell me that at least.”

“Maybe fourteen?” Nya snapped it closed, her blush refusing to die down. I have never wished to have Kai’s powers as much as I do right now. “We hadn’t known each other that long, it was probably before the whole deal with the Overlord.”

Jay snickered. “I mean, you have to admit, Nya Walker has a nice ring to it…”

“I will kick you out of my room,” she threatened, waving the notebook, and all its damning evidence, at him threateningly.

“Point taken!” He put his hands in the air, still grinning widely. “Although you’re the one with ‘Nya Walker’ scribbled all over a notebook…”

“Jay!”

“What!? It’s cute! I mean, it’s not like I ever did anything similarly embarrassing…”

She gave him a flat look, tossing the book back into the chest. “Yeah right. So we’re lying to ourselves now? You were down so bad.”

“You’re one to talk! So were you, apparently!”

“The threat to kick you out of my room still stands, Mr. Walker.”

Jay saluted her, his smile still refusing to fade. “As you insist, Mrs. Walker. I will shut up now.”

“Good idea.” Nya shook her head, trying not to smile back at him. He was never ever supposed to see that, by the FSM.

Oh well, at least it could never be said she hadn’t been as cringy as him back then.

“If anyone else finds out about this, I swear…”

Jay laughed, picking up the old Samurai X specs and peering at it closely. “This one will stay between us. I promise.”

Little headcanon I have—

Nya, being a roughly 14 year old girl in season1 and crushing incredibly hard, definitely wrote stuff like “Mrs. Walker” “Nya Walker” “Mrs. Nya Walker” in a notebook.

Nya is allowed to be just as cringy as Jay in early jaya <3

Bonus: only time she ever wished to have Kai’s powers is a couple years later when she finds said notebook and immediately wants to burn it

[elaine19day]

Hey guys~ Sorry for my late post, I was super busy today and just came home and only now was able to take a closer look at the new merch and the post that OldXian made. So, first things first - I stand corrected, lol The leaked merch turned out to be real after all. For me personally, quite surprising because it's a LOT at once. (I mean, 58[!!] different cards/buttons/tickets/plates plus 4 special extras……. WOW!!) Also what I mentioned in my last post already - it's quite a bold move to release merch with those old motifs from early manga chapters and calling it "time mosaic" lmao.

Who knows what went on when these decisions were made at mosspaca headquarters, lol

It's safe to say the images definitely got leaked by either a hacker or a person working there. And a lot of people on xiaohongshu were able to produce replicas quickly and sell them to unsuspecting fans. Which brings me to my next point:

The quality of the merch and the quality of the drawings itself. I promised you to address this 'issue' should there ever be an official announcement about these new items and that happened today.

So. First of all - if you saw the posts on taobao or XHS yourself, where people sold fakes, or even if you saw only screenshots from it, you can tell the image quality definitely seemed off. This will most likely be attributed to two things - producing merch from a small, low quality image will make it look blurry and distorted, sometimes pixel-y. And the other reason could be upscaling. If you use shitty programs to make images bigger, it'll look blurry and unfocused. You can go back to my previous post and take a close look at the parts that I circled and highlighted to point out these issues.

Now. About the thing I initially didn't wanna address because I know some people won't like it. If you look closely at the images posted by OldXian herself today, even there some things still seem a little bit 'off' or 'rushed'. There has been speculation in the past that OX uses an AI model (probably fed/trained with her own works) to generate new images quickly and then she'd just draw over them to fix minor issues etc. Please keep in mind, this is just speculation and rumors. I am NOT saying that this is the case. But it might be a possibility. Personally, I can see quite a few artists using these methods to save time, especially when they're under high pressure. (And if they use their own models, trained with their own works only, there's nothing immoral about it, if you ask me. But that's just my personal opinion.)

So there. This might be an explanation for some of her illustrations or panels looking a bit funky sometimes. The other possibility is simply that she's rushing it when working on these things and heavy time pressure makes it a bit messy. Once again - NOT saying she definitely uses AI, just telling you about the rumors that sometimes surface on the net. That's all.

Anyway. About the merch itself. It drops in about 12h from the time I'm posting this blog. (8pm Hangzhou time)

The taobao link for the items is this for now: https://item.taobao.com/item.htm?ft=t&id=792490172782 

There are 4 different options and all of them are blind boxes, meaning you'll receive totally random motifs, unless you order a whole box, which will guarantee you 1 of each regular motif. However, all 4 lots have 1-3 limited pictures, which you might be lucky enough to receive, the chance is small though. (In case you order a complete box and there's 1 or more of the limited motifs inside, it'll lack a regular motif in its place. Example: if you order a full box of 8 buttons and one of them is a limited edition button, one of the regular 8 motifs will be missing in its place. There won't be 9 buttons in the box. It will always be 8 for a full box!)

Option 1: (18 Yuan | ca. 2,70 USD each) Button badges. There are 8 regular badges and 2 limited edition badges. If you order a total of 8 pieces you will not only receive the display box, but also an acrylic standee with Tianshan riding a scooter as a special extra.

Option 2: (10 Yuan | ca. 1,50 USD each) Laser Tickets. There are 17 regular tickets and 2 limited edition tickets. If you order a total of 17 pieces you will not only receive the display box, but also a Shishiki board with Mo from the metamorphosis series as a special extra.

Option 3: (18 Yuan | ca. 2,70 USD each) Tinplates. There are 10 regular plates and 1 limited edition plate. If you order a total of 10 pieces you will not only receive the display box, but also an acrylic standee with Zhanyi cooking/cleaning as a special extra.

Option 4: (15 Yuan | ca. 2,25 USD each) Acrylic Cards. There are 16 regular cards and 3 limited edition cards. If you order a total of 16 pieces you will not only receive the display box, but also an acrylic standee with all 4 boys as chibis as a special extra. [Note about the acrylic cards: The Mo Guanshan card will be the same that was already given as a limited extra during the last round of blind box button badges!]

If you live in the US or Asia, you will most likely be able to use taobao and order directly from the mosspaca shop via the app with the link I gave you above. If you live in a country that's not covered on taobao's shipping list, you can use an agent to order the new merch. Please refer to THIS POST here where I previously explained how to use superbuy and similar shopping agents for buying things from taobao. In case you use superbuy, please keep in mind: They don't offer paypal anymore, so you'll need a credit card or bank transfer or apple pay/google pay.

Also, think carefully if you really want ALL of the merch, even if you're a die-hard fan. You saw I have put the rough amount of US Dollar with each item, so if you buy all 4 boxes, you'll have to pay over 110 USD for the merch alone, plus domestic shipping from mosspaca to the warehouse and then international shipping, which can be as high as 40 USD, depending on where you live. (And perhaps even customs fees on top of it.)

If you have any questions, please drop them below and I'll try my best to answer them~

[lj-lephemstar]

Progress Checkup! (Nov. 2024) | Scratchin' Melodii Devlog

​​Hey again guys! Sorry if it's been a bit since the last devlog. With how much I've been up to, it sure feels like it!

Let's get right into it. For starters, the 3rd rival battle of Act 2 is complete! I'll likely be showing a gameplay preview of it sometime soon. This is the first song to use the new framework that I'll be using for all the other stages going forward, which also means I've had to spend the past couple weeks getting the previous songs working with this new system too... Did you know that in the demo builds, if I wanted to change something about the gameplay, I'd have to manually go back and change it for EACH individual song one by one? Well now, imagine all the songs had like a peace treaty to just share one good, clean, and organized system that I can easily tweak and add to as I please. So development is gonna be smoother than ever from here! This is how most games are SUPPOSED to work, but I was a liiittle too stupid to figure out how to do this until recently!

While I was moving Cream Cheese Icing over to this new system, I took the opportunity to make the chart a bit more beginner-friendly! For example, the first line went from this...

To just this!

As you can see, it has less notes, therefore it is less scary for new players. Believe it or not, I actually never intended for Cream Cheese Icing to be so difficult for new players in the first place! Naturally, being too good at my own game can make gauging the difficulty curve a bit tricky at times, but I think I'm figuring it out!​

You may have also noticed that the characters have new UI icons too! I felt like the old ones were too flat and boring, so I did a new take on them, aiming for more dynamic shapes and angles, not to mention how my art style's just kinda grown a bit in general since I last drew the icons. I also ended up leaving out the circles behind them. I was a little worried I was gonna run out of unique colors for all of them at some point, plus SOME of these guys can have really big hair and/or hats that pretty much just cover up the whole circle anyway. (hi rensa)

Speaking of artwork, here's a little look at some of the updated animation I've done for Stir & Mix! (Try to imagine it in not highly-compressed-gif-form. I promise it looks better in-game!)

When working on Stir & Mix related stuff, I can't help but feel a bit of a sense of dread knowing how people may react to it... Honestly, sometimes I kinda wish it never got as popular as it did in 2022. But hey, doing my own thing regardless of what's expected of me is the most Scratchin' Melodii thing I could do!

Speaking of which, Mia learned a ton of new stuff while doing the VOCALOID tuning for the last rival battle we worked on, so we might revisit Stir & Mix's vocals again at some point before release to give it even more style! (By the way, Mia and 2cada are the same person! Sorry if I refer to both names interchangeably! She's been the one doing all the VOCALOID tuning and vocal mixing for the game since 2023.)

Well, I think that's all for now! Here's another friendly reminder that there will NOT be anymore demos of the game. Any new content will be saved for the full game's release. I know I've said it before, but I probably won't stop saying it until people stop getting confused about it LOL. Thanks for reading!! I appreciate you. - LJ

[mxltifxnd0m]

having a witch s/o headcanons ⟡ s. winchester

pairings: sam winchester x witch! reader, sam winchester x gn afab! reader

word count: 1.8K

warnings: none really, no use of 'y/n', mentions of death and violence, some angst, fluff, dean being dean and not liking witches, [a part of season of the witch verse!]

a/n: ahhh im so excited for this little universe i've created and i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i had making it!!

as always enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog! your feedback fuels me <3

[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

⟡ before dating you/ how you met: 

the two of you didn’t exactly get off on the right foot when you guys met for the first time 

you taught at the local university in your town, trying to live as normal as a life as you could while being a witch

the boys were on a hunt in the town you were living in, and they thought that you were the witch that was killing the college students (they were your previous students, hence why they came to that conclusion) 

they had tried cornering you in your office after hours while you were working late but you managed to escape their grasp and flee. (you called in sick the next day and canceled classes) 

after the minor altercation the three of you had, you managed to track down the winchesters and confront them at their motel room, and you explained the situation to them (it was a rogue witch from your father’s previous coven that was seeking revenge on your family since they were betrothed to each other but your father had fallen in love with your mother, running away, and then having you)

you knew about the winchesters, who hasn’t? so you knew that they would be hesitant about accepting your help, but you weren’t doing it to help them; you were doing it to save your own behind and save your students 

dean outright refused your help, but sam, being the smart man he was, knew that without your help or knowledge, tracking down that witch would be difficult, so a hushed conversation later (you heard every single word that they said in that small motel room) they had accepted your help on the condition if you ever stepped out of line that they wouldn’t hesitate on killing you 

you rolled your eyes at their threat but agreed (you haven’t killed a human being in all of your years of being alive so you weren’t going to start now, though with dean’s attitude towards you, you just might break that record) 

working with the winchesters was like pulling teeth, but at the end of it all, you guys killed the witch, and the winchesters went on their merry way. 

you were hoping that would be the first and last time you’d ever see their faces, but alas fate is a mistress that you hate to serve, and they ended up at your office, posing as FBI agents once again and needing your help (it was mostly sam asking and dean standing next to him stone-faced)  

you flat out refused to help them, not wanting to be pulled into their world of crazy (your mother made sure you had as normal a life as you possibly could, and you weren’t going to give that up for the winchesters), so you swiftly sent them out of your office   but you weren’t very lucky later that night when sam had shown up on your doorstep and all but intruded on what you thought was going to be a quiet night

against your better judgment, you invited the gentle giant into your home, and you shared the pizza that you had ordered in silence before he tried once again to ask for your help 

it was either the wine you had consumed or his pleading puppy dog eyes (it was probably the combination of both) but you found yourself saying yes to help them 

you swore to yourself that this was the only time that you would help them 

but newsflash, they didn’t end up happening, after that hunt, you and sam had exchanged numbers, and you found yourself texting sam and helping them out with either research or spells that they needed for a hunt 

hell, even dean had gotten ahold of your number and texted you for help (but this was very rare and sam was typically the person to reach out and ask for help) 

then the texts with sam had crossed over from just asking for help and the two of you started to have friendly conversation with one another 

it was nice, being able to chat with him, you knew that sam was kind and intelligent in his own right so the two of you texted each other often before it turned frequent 

months had passed, and you had a tentative friendship with sam but before you knew it, you had developed feelings for the taller winchester and you were a little terrified about it (you knew that sam was generally more open about monsters, but there was a little voice in the back of your head telling you that he could always turn on you) 

you became distant with him, trying to be discrete about it but sam was perceptive and called you out on it, and you gave him a bs excuse about it 

turns out that wasn’t enough because a day later, he had shown up on your doorstep like he did when he asked for your help that night and practically confessed his feelings towards you

you were shocked by it, but managed to tell him that you felt the same, you melted seeing the grin that he gave you before he leaned down and captured your lips in a passionate kiss 

⟡ dating sam winchester 

at first, the two of you took it slow; you didn’t want to rush with sam, considering that you felt so strongly for him and sam to you

sam also had to deal with dean, knowing how his brother felt about witches, and even if you guys were on decent terms, the two of you had no idea how he’d feel if his little brother was dating a witch. 

so sam kept it from dean, but it wasn’t going to be for long, just until the two of you were comfortable telling him, but considering you lived a couple of states away, you’d hope it be soon because you knew that the older winchester wasn’t dumb and would question sam about his whereabouts if he visited you often. 

the two of you did long distance, which was difficult, to say the least, not seeing each other for weeks at a time, and with you teaching and sam traveling the states for hunts, it left a lot to be desired, but you guys found workarounds for it  

but there was an insistence that sam didn’t respond to your texts for at least three days, which was out of the norm (he usually took a day to respond if he couldn’t find time to respond if he was out on hunts) and so you panicked and tracked sam’s phone to a hospital (which worried you immensely). you immediately high-tailed it to the location where his phone was. you burst through the hospital doors, and dean was waiting in the lobby for his brother to be discharged and was confused to see you here 

then sam came walking (limping) down the hallway, and his eyes landed on yours, and before he knew it, your lips were on his, but he sank into your embrace nonetheless (dean looked at this scene with wide eyes and when you guys broke away, you expected dean to drag you off of his brother and possibly kill you) 

lucky for you and sam, dean liked you enough that you had his permission to date his brother (but that didn’t mean that he pulled you out of the motel room that the boys were staying in and threatened you lightly) 

soon after dean had given his seal of approval, sam asked you to move in with him in the bunker after a year of dating

you almost said yes immediately, but you said you would think about it since that would mean uprooting your life and abandoning a life of normalcy

it only took a week to think it through and about a month and a half later, you were moved into the bunker in Lebanon, Kansas living with the boys was a huge adjustment at first, but you guys eventually found your groove, and you had become an important asset in helping them out on research and spell work 

speaking about spell work, since you were born with your abilities (thanks to your father), magic came easy to you, but you only worked with healing magic and light magic (you studied everything else; it was good to be knowledgeable about all facets of the craft) 

but your healing salves and magic came in handy in their line of work any time they were injured 

you had a separate workspace when working with your craft (you had cleared out an old room that wasn’t being used and they were okay with it) 

you found yourself in that room more often than not and usually sam would come in and just study you as you bustled around the room (his gaze never strayed from your focused face as you worked and found it adorable when you slightly jumped when you looked up from the book you were reading to find sam smiling at you) 

sam never really expressed his feelings about learning about the magic you used, so you were thoroughly surprised when sam came to you asking if you could teach him 

you weren’t sure at first but eventually caved (those damn eyes of his would be the death of you) 

he was a good student and a fast learner, which shouldn’t have surprised you considering you knew how smart he was

but dating sam while you lived with him was a breeze (bar from the fact that even when he was a human heater, he stole the covers often and the little spats the two of you had, which most of the time were solved in a matter of hours and led to great sex) 

it was the first time in a relationship that you felt like you could be yourself for once, having to brush off the side of yourself as a hobby or hide it from your partners 

but with sam, you didn’t need to hide it and it felt so freeing

sam was understanding, compassionate, sweet, gentle, and so many more things that you could rattle off but it would take too long to even explain, but you couldn’t have asked for a better person to be your partner 

he’d given you the pet name of jinx, and at first it sounded like a nickname that dean would have given you, but it slowly grew on you, and he was the only one who could call you that (mainly because you threatened bodily harm if dean had called you by it) 

so in return, you’d given him the pet name of “my heart” which you thought was fitting because he did have it fully and you loved the blush that crept up his neck and bloomed on his cheeks when you called him by it

there were always going to be bumps in the road, and life-ending events looming over the two of you, but you were convinced that if he was by your side and you by his, you guys could do anything 

[littlerosetrove]

I made a post talking about this exact thing.

Tommy has been the only LI with real potential to be something good and lasting for Buck. Tommy is a first responder like Buck, so not only do they get each other on that fundamental level, but logistically for the writers it makes it far easier to incorporate Tommy into stories. Tommy already had a connection to the 118, Bucks life and family. Hell, for the first time we had Bobby outright approve of Tommy to Buck, saying he's good people. And hello? Tommy and Eddie are friends (though who knows how that will be handled now).

What I don't get is why go to all this trouble, bringing back and working on integrating Tommy, specifically, into Bucks life like they've never done with previous partners, if only to toss it aside out of the blue, and done for a poor reason?

Not every audience member is going to read interviews (ie do homework) to try and figure out what the hell is going on in the show. In the show we got an abrupt ending to a relationship that STILL gave signs that there is an open door. An open door for Tommy to possibly come back. Meaning, Tommy was scared and ran, but Buck could actually fight for this relationship and say no, he absolutely wants a lasting future with Tommy.

But the interviews, the homework, is showing us "nope, this is the end, and Buck just might sleep around now. stay tuned to find out!"

To add onto this and bring Eddie into the mix, well - Eddie has stated in canon that he's straight. I may be a multi-shipper, but I gotta say this gives veeery little hope of Buddie ever becoming canon. And you know what? Considering how Buck and Tommy were just handled/treated, I can't say I have much faith in how even a potential Buddie thing would even be handled.

While yes, we need to wait and see how things play out, but at the moment? What I'm seeing is one of Buck's greatest potential for a lasting and good relationship has been tossed aside, and... what? He's just going to go on dating someone new? Probably a whole new character we've never met, and we're supposed to care about this person when we've seen this exact movie multiple times now, in 8 seasons, and we're supposed to care and feel invested?

Like I'm really not trying to be a big downer, but gd these writers are giving me very little confidence in them. The just burned us badly, and again, it's season 8 and they still can't manage for whatever reason to allow Buck to finally settle down with someone, something he's wanted for 8 seasons, and just be happy. I just want Buck to be happy and settled, but right now these writers are refusing to let him, and that does confuse me and piss me off.

Tommy is seemingly gone for good, Eddie does not look likely to be a possible romantic partner for Buck, so. Why should I care about any future LI for Buck? Again, yes I want Buck to be happy, but holy shit.

i think my overall feeling after this episode was that i genuinely can’t care about any relationship buck gets into after this. like seriously, what is the point? this hamster wheel they said they were getting him off is still spinning and he’s not leaving it, he’s never gonna have any real relationships if they keep repeating the cycle of him finding someone, there being an issue and the relationship ending.

like. do i care about buck and his character development? obviously. but any girlfriend or boyfriend or love interest he gets, i’m not gonna even think about caring or getting invested. because seriously, what is the point. they had something amazing in tommy and it could have lead to some great storylines for buck and tommy and even the overall show, but it’ll never come to fruition now. because buck is apparently ‘still figuring himself out’ but he can date men as well as women. will that ever lead to a long lasting relationship? it’s doubtful. at least that’s what it seems like the writers want.

and don’t even getting me started on eddie.

[neithoftheveil]

Ko-Fi donation ficlet #9:

“The bell is fucking annoying! I’m telling him to knock it off!”

“No, you’re here to tell Xie Lian to tell Hua Cheng to knock it off.”

“Same thing!”

Mu Qing rolls his eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“What did I tell you about being sarcastic?”

“That you’d yell at me. You’ve yelled at me for hundreds of years. What sort of threat is that?” Mu Qing rolls his eyes again just to prove a point. “You’re lucky I came with you at all on this stupid errand.”

“And why did you come with me?”

“Moral support,” Mu Qing says primly, and picks a piece of lint off his sleeve.

Feng Xin laughs like that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard, that hearty, genuine sort of laughter he does over the dumbest jokes. Mu Qing swats him.

“Be quiet. Hua Cheng will hear us coming up the mountain and chase us off before we can get to Xie Lian.”

“Oh shit, you think he’ll be here?”

“Where the fuck else would he be?!” Mu Qing shouts, exasperated. “Those two have been attached at the hip and everything else since he came back. Look. See?”

They’ve just crested the incline onto the flat patch of ground Xie Lian built his cottage on. It’s surrounded by flowering trees, one of which the happy couple sits beneath, Xie Lian astride that red demon, his face held in Hua Cheng’s hands, and—

Mu Qing grabs Feng Xin to halt him before they’re seen. They’ve probably already been spotted by a wraith butterfly hiding somewhere. Fuck.

“What—”

Mu Qing slaps a hand over Feng Xin’s mouth and looks pointedly at the two lovebirds. Feng Xin quirks an eyebrow, and in Mu Qing’s communication array, he says, So? They’re always like this.

Look again!

Feng Xin’s eyes slide back, and after a beat of silence, comprehension sparks in his eyes—then disgust and horror. What the fuck! What?! Why?! What the actual fuck?! Let’s get the fuck out of here!

Mu Qing shoots one last glance at the happy couple—at Xie Lian’s bare legs, at the way his body rocks just slightly up and down—and then the two of them spin around and hightail it down the mountain.

Straight into a small cloud of wraith butterflies.

“Fuck! Um—we didn’t see anything!” Feng Xin says. “I swear!”

“Why didn’t you stop us before we had to witness that shit?” Mu Qing snaps at the butterflies.

“Shut the fuck up!” Feng Xin says. “We didn’t see anything!”

“You shut the fuck up! I came here for you, and now I wish I was blind!”

They shove each other—then jump when the butterflies dart forward. Petrified, they sprint down the mountain, the butterflies chasing them the whole way, to the foot of Mount Taicang and beyond, the two of them tripping over each other and tree roots and the pebbled path in their escape—shoving each other and slapping each other and shouting obscenities—

Fuck the bell. Fuck! This is the last time Mu Qing does anything nice!