#listen to ex. pop music too!!!

[itswilliamleonard]

ex. happyender girl - 'happyender girl' (2023)

[sluttyten]

yall I want TDS3 tickets so badly 😭 but I don't know who to even go with and I'm not going by myself.... but I'm also seriously thinking I'm just gonna go ahead and try to get tickets on friday anyway

[pasta-pardner]

electronic indiepop songs involving cowboys and horses 🐴

spotify

[bunniesbearsandadventures]

I swear to whoever

I must be going crazy

I want to speak to the corporate manager who runs the playlists that play through my jobs stores

Do they not understand?!?

Do they not know?!

[mywritersmind]

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.2

christmas special

previous part next part

summary : Lando Norris’ teasing doesn’t stop on the slopes. With cold weather, bad skiing, lots of unwanted flirting (or at least that’s what lando thinks), and a soothing hot tub, another day in your new favorite christmas town is done.

og summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : suggestive comments! dual pov! swearing! i’m starting to love this fr! comment to be on tag list <3

words : 3885

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Morning, Sunshine!” Lando Norris swings my door open, leaning against the door and smirking at me.

Max pops out behind him, “Time to hit the slopes!”

P is the third in my door frame, “Up and at ‘em!” I loudly groan and push my face back into my pillow. Fuck my weird friends and their urge to piss me off.

⋆༺

lando

P forces us all into a shop to look for hand warmers before we go on the slopes. I find a candy cane and pop it in my mouth while looking around mindlessly, not truly caring about the small things.

I find Y/n looking at the Christmas cards. I tug on her braid, her head dipping back as she yelps slightly. Turning to me with a stern look on her face she says, “Can’t you go bother Max for once?”

I grin, the candy between my teeth. “You’re so much nicer to look at though.” Her eyes roll and she turns back to the cards. I get closer, looking over her shoulder, “Late shopping?”

She eyes me, “Just looking.”

I hum to the Christmas music playing and reach over her shoulder to grab a card, “I like this one.”

She scoffs, looking at it with me, “Of course you do.” I laugh as I read the piece of paper.

It has a little Santa stuck in a chimney and reads, ‘I might not come down the chimney, but will surely go down on you.’

She does not find this as funny as me, but I still clock the smile on her face. She smells like cinnamon and peppermint, but that could also be my candy.

“What did you ask Mr Claus for christmas?” I ask her as she turns to face me fully.

“Definitely not dirty Christmas cards.” She scoffs, motioning to the others on the shelf, “My ex to stop calling me? My work to pay better? A trip to Paris?”

I raise a brow, “You know there’s a great little feature called ‘block’, right?” I only really heard the first thing she said. I joked about her ex but am not liking the sound of him calling her still.

She sighs, crossing her arms over her sweater, “What’d you ask for, then? A good start from pole?”

“Mmm, there’s my little comedian.” I feel like I'm in F1 twitter when I'm around her. Biting the end of my candy cane, I answer her question, “I asked for Someone to go down on.”

She lets out a genuine laugh, “You mean someone to go down on you?”

“No.” It’s quick because I mean it. Her brow raises slightly as I look her up and down before leaving her in the paper aisle. I’m serious too, but I left out the part that I’d hoped would be her.

“Bob!” Max says as I walk up to him and P, they’re staring at gloves. “Need your help mate, pink or yellow?”

“God I was better off with your sister.” I quickly turn, making my way back to Y/n.”

She’s still next to the cards, I see the back of her as I approach. But something’s… off. There’s a man I do not know, making her laugh…?

Fuck no.

I can’t see her face but I can see his, definitely not her type. Blonde, blue eyes, swedish? Who cares.

I switch my candy cane to the other side of my mouth, walking up with one hand in my pocket and an annoying smile on my face.

The guy sees me and his smile instantly fades. I stand behind Y/n again as I hear her sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You’re Lando Norris.”

I blink, pulling the candy cane out of my mouth and looking him dead in the eye, “I don’t know who that is.”

He says an awkward goodbye and just as I think Y/n is going to yell at me, she turns, laughing. “You’re an ass.”

Her laugh makes something inside of me warm, “Yeah, I know.”

Max and P pop into our aisle, “I chose yellow!” Max smiles as his eyes move between the two of us.

I step around her, getting far before Max senses anything, “Perfect bro, really your color.” Y/n says sarcastically as she follows me out.

P gives us both a look as I stare down the blonde one last time.

⋆༺

I’m snowboarding with P while Max and Y/n are Skiing. I try not to laugh at Y/n as she falls on her ass but It just comes out! I ended up halfway down the hill while halfway on my board after she pushed me.

The snow last night was perfect and Max and I cruised for some time after losing Y/n and P. “I’m calling P.” I say after they stopped responding to us.

It’s Y/n who answers. She sounds panicked, “Lando!?”

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” I look at Max who sees my face and gets just as nervous as me. I can hear her heavy breathing, “Hey, seriously, what is it?”

“P got hurt and we’re in the lodge and-” Max stops breathing as Y/n sniffles, “And you two are so fucked and tell Max he’s sleeping on the couch!” Her change in tone makes my heart slow and my eyes roll.

“So she’s fine?” I ask, a little sassy now.

“Yes you asshole! We’re getting hot chocolate because you two ditched us!” Max grabs the phone and starts yelling at his sister.

I can’t help but laugh at the scene unfold. Max starts walking away, carrying his board as I struggle to unlock my boots to go after him.

P is most definitely is fine, and Max is most definitely laying it on thick. “My love!” He hugs me from behind as she rolls her eyes, bringing her drink to her lips.

I slide a chair next to Y/n and lean close to her. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say anything, barely even moves.

“You’re evil, Sunshine.” I see the smirk on her face as her shoulders lift up and down softly.

“Not evil, just motivated.” The corner of my mouth lifts, something that’s out of my control when I'm this close to her.

P and Max giggling force me to look away from her and focus on the loving couple. P has her hand on his face as he stands behind her chair still, “Alright! Who’s up to hit the slopes?”

I keep learning more and more things about Y/n on this trip and today is no different. This woman cannot ski.

“Christ, Y/n!” Max yells at her from the top of the mountain. We all just watched Y/n fall on her face while getting off the ski lift. “Should I even trust you to go down this mountain alone?”

“Don’t worry Maxie!” I grin, slapping my hand on Y/n’s head, “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Right like you’re any better! If I leave her with you then she might just end up getting pranked on your instagram story.” P laughs at this.

“Why doesn’t she just chill on a bunny slope?”

“Um excuse me! I am not that bad! I can handle myself!” Right as she says this, she slips but catches herself, clearing her throat. “It’s fine.”

Besides my slight concern for Y/n slowly following behind us, it’s a great day on the slopes. None of us are experts so we keep it chill and fun. Plus I know i’ll be sore if I do too much.

P races me to the bottom for the third time and just when I'm about to tap out, I see some guy talking to Y/n. Her gloves and goggles are off and I'm so distracted that I almost get knocked over by Max trying to stop.

Max and I are both about to walk over to her but P stops us in our tracks, holding us by the hoods of our jackets. “You two are the absolute worst, she does not need this right now!”

“I’m not letting her have some holiday fling after her heart was ripped out by that idiot!” Interesting reaction from Max.

He’s always been passionate about his sister's safety and has not once liked any boyfriend. But this is new and a bit threatening.

“You don’t have to ‘let’ her do anything! She’s a grown woman who’s pissed off and deserves a good man.”

“Like he’s a good man?” I mumble, watching the guy bite his lip and flip back his stupid fluffy hair that falls in his eyes.

I can feel P staring at me. “Both of you shut up and go get in line for the lift.” Y/n turns back to us, clearing seeing us watching and looking away quickly.

She excuses herself, blushing a bit and it’s definitely not from the cold. I know there’s a disgusted expression on my face and I don’t even try to change it.

I know she’s pretty.

Scratch that, she’s beautiful. Like actually the sort of stunning that makes her feel like a magnet. I know this about her! I tell her often.

But I do forget that she actually is seen by everyone else around us. I see the turning heads, the guys going up to her, I've just chosen to ignore it. Twice in one day is a little too much for our wholesome Christmas week though.

Maybe it’s too much for me because I hate every man that even looks her way.

P breaks the silence, “He was cute.”

Max groans at his girlfriend's comment, “Don’t encourage her!”

“Chill out! He was way too old.” Max looks shocked that this is his only flaw, “And i’m spending christmas with you guys blah blah blah, come on! I’m ready to ski again.”

Max drops a glove off the ski lift and we fall back into our usual friendship banter. I do love my friends, even if Y/n won’t admit she likes me in the slightest.

I laugh the whole way down the snow, racing all three of my friends as Max tries to sabotage his sister.

“I’ll eat your fucking gingerbread house, Max!” Is Y/n’s threat to her brother as she zooms past me.

The Fewtrells are very serious when it comes to gingerbread.

I slow and grab some snow to throw at Max, I unfortunately miss him and hit P.

The blonde screams at the snow stuck on her goggles and beanie, “Oh you’re gonna get it-” I'm suddenly being chased by an angry girl in all pink.

I can hear Y/n laughing as Max almost gets taken out by a kid going faster than all three of us combined.

We all have a smooth run, and just when I actually believe that Y/n may be getting better, I'm shocked once more at her clumsiness.

She was ready to Ski again! She was not ready to be back on flat ground.

In fact, as soon as we start to move back to the ski lift, she twists her ankle.

“I’m fine!” She fights me, pulling her mask back up over her nose so I can’t see her facial expression.

“Lovely you’re clearly in pain.” P pulls off her goggles as Max asks for directions.

“I’m fine! Let’s go again.” When she starts to move forward, she winces. Max yells at her which makes her more upset and P more distressed.

“It’s probably just a sprain, let’s go to the medic.”

“No!” Y/n fights me again as she argues with Max and a very worried P, “I’m seriously f-”

If I hear her say ‘fine’ one more time, I might cut my ears off. She’s over my shoulder in an instant, her skis clicked off and in Max’s hands now. She hits my back but I can barely feel it through my layers.

“Let me down you cunt!” I’ve had Y/n on me far more times this trip than I expected.

“There’s that sunny personality I know and love.” I mumble as I maneuver my way through the crowd, smiling at the people who give me weird looks for having a screaming girl over my shoulder.

The medic area is small and already taken up by three crying kids. The look that Y/n gives me when I set her down might just be enough to catch me on fire.

I pull her goggles off her face as Max and P explain what happened and repeatedly explaining that she wasn’t actually skiing when she got hurt.

I wipe the snow off and smile at her pouty expression, “How much does it hurt?” I’m squatting in front of her as she’s sitting on a small bench.

She argues immediately, “Not even-” I unclip her boot and she makes a noise that is nowhere near pleasant.

“Tell the truth, sunshine.” something in her face changes when I say the nickname i’ve had for her since childhood. I don’t get to dwell on it because a woman in red and white smiles at us as she approaches.

Max and Y/n argue so much that we both get kicked into the hallway. I pull my beanie off and shake out my hair, “I know I get mad at you a lot.”

I raise a brow at my friend, one that’s rarely serious.

“But I do appreciate you caring for Y/n. Even when she’s a pain-”

“I can hear you!” Y/n tells from the room as I let out a dry laugh.

I whisper, “Just wanna keep that christmas spirit up.”

He narrows his eyes a bit, mumbling, “Right…”

⋆༺

Turns out, Y/n is fine. A bit sore but comfortably on Max’s back as we look at the reindeers, “Shit this really is a Christmas hallmark town.” Y/n says as P laughs at the creatures.

“I always thought reindeers were fake.” Max frowns as it eats a carrot from his hand hesitantly.

“What’s hallmark?” I say innocently. Little did I know I would be attacked by the three people standing next to me.

“Oh mate…” Max shakes his head, “You’re so single and it’s so obvious.”

P sighs, “And uncultured! We need to have a movie night.”

“It’s only the best TV Christmas program ever! There’s a million movies and they all loosely follow the same plot line with a couple of opposites and a small town and a failing business and an old man with a white beard who might be santa.

I laugh at them, “The fuck…? I have to watch now.”

“Not tonight!” P groans. It’s already pretty late, we grabbed dinner and are now walking through the town.

“Or tomorrow!” Max shrugs, “P and I are going out, date night!” Y/n’s jaw drops at this while I smile. “Please don’t kill my friend while we’re gone.”

Y/n rolls her eyes, still on Max’s back, “No promises.”

“Let’s get back.” I shiver, “P looks like she’s about to snap in half.”

She glares at me, “You’re the one whose teeth are chattering!”

⋆༺

you

“My whole fucking body hurts.” I groan as we walk into the house, the warmth comforting me instantly. Max throws the keys into the catch all and yawns.

P is practically asleep next to Max and Lando is not even out of the car yet, “I think I'm just gonna go up.” She hums, her eyes already closed.

“No!” I frown, pulling off my puffer, “Come in the jacuzzi with me, i’ll bring wine!”

She shakes her head, “Sorry, Y/n. I’m wiped.”

“Max?” I look to my brother as he brings his arm under his girlfriend to hold her up. He’s looking at her with such love even as she’s half asleep and practically drooling. “Whatever. I might snap in half if I don’t go in.”

I say goodnight to Max and P as I walk up the stairs alone. He was quiet the whole ride home which was definitely new but not unwelcome.

I change as quickly as possible into a brown bikini and wander into the cold with my uggs and a towel. The jacuzzi is already hot and soothes my aching legs and back.

I take in the cool air against my face and look up to the dark sky. It's absolutely covered in stars, the moon is most definitely the focal point.

I switch the jets on and close my eyes, breathing in slowly. Today was chaotic and all I needed was a good soak and some quiet.

As soon as I sink deeper into the water, the door creaks open and Lando appears. He’s listening to music and pauses when he sees me, pulling off his headphones.

“Oh.” Is all he says.

He steps into the jacuzzi, his arms bracing himself as he slowly sinks into the water. I can see every muscle in his body and am trying to hide the feeling I get as he lets out a moan. He sucks in a breath and leans his head back, his adam's apple bobbing as he sits down in the hot water.

“Shit that feels good.” His voice sounds tired and content with the steam.

I’m almost speechless at his casual display of what, to me, is deeply sexual. Then again, a lot of things Lando does are sexual.

“How’s the ankle?” he asks.

I cringe at the memory of us on the mountain, “Better.” I know he came here because he knew I would be. I sigh, “My legs hurt.”

“Want a massage?” His grin is promptly back on his face, cheeky as ever.

“Max is gonna beat your ass someday.” It’s true, the amount of times he’s yelled or thrown something at Lando because of his remarks is astounding. And hilarious.

He swings his arms around the sides of the hot tub, “I’d like to see him try.” He sounds cocky just saying it.

I sigh, looking out at the land beyond our house, “So would I, trust me.”

He sinks his arms back down in the water, “Oh please, don’t pretend you don’t like my teasing.”

“I hate it.” I say it to his face, a face that looks unconvinced as he dips under. He comes back up, wiping his face and pushing his curls out of the way.

He changes the subject and floats around a bit, “I thought you knew how to ski.”

I swear his sole purpose in life is to aggravate me! He’s sitting across from me, looking all innocent with those green fucking eyes that I can see even in the shitty light.

When I don’t answer, he turns and rolls his shoulders back. My eyes trail down his back… until his voice rings out again.

“Stop checking me out and come here.” I don’t know why I do it, there’s just something about his tone that urges me to float across the hot tub and rest my arms on the side.

“I got Max a present… but I don’t know if he’ll like it.” I raise a brow at Lando’s soft words.

“Um… what is it?”

He turns around so we’re facing opposite ways, my knees resting against the all around seat, “I can’t tell you.”

I sigh and lean my head against my arms, “Well how am I supposed to help then?”

“Ask Max what he wants.”

I roll my eyes, “He said he wants the Mclaren championship and that sort of happened so…”

Lando smiles at this, sighing softly and looking at me, “Well, what are you getting him?” His eyes are so sincere, one of the few times he isn’t flirting or teasing me. He must catch my odd pause because he furrows his brows, “You okay, Sunshine?”

I look back at the trees, “Stop calling me that.”

“I have other nicknames I'd be happy to use.” I can hear the smirk in his voice as I rub my eye and bite back a smile. I hate when he makes me laugh.

“So do I. They're all race related, sure you’d like to hear?” It’s like my words go completely over his head, his eyes go soft.

“You watch my races?”

I roll my eyes again, “That’s what you got from that?”

He scoots closer, teasing, “You watch my races!”

“I watch F1 races!” I retort, “Don’t act all high and mighty, you’re definitely not my favorite driver.”

“Who the fuck is your favorite then?”

I shrug, egging him on a bit, “Oscar and Lewis.” I can see him fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Nuh uh. I saw you on Max’s stream wearing my merch once!”

I scoff, “Once! I was cold and he gave me your hoodie. Apparently I can’t wear anything of Max's so I had no choice.”

“I knew he was my friend for a reason!” He acts like his life goal was finally figured out before smiling softly, “You looked good in it.”

I eye him solely because I know he’s watching me and I won’t give him the chance to not be intimidated, “I look good in a lot of things.”

His eyes rake down body, or at least as much as he can see with the jets still on. “I know.” I feel sick, but not nauseous, more like butterflies.

With one last smile, Lando tilts his head back and looks up at the sky. My ears are cold but I could care less. I feel weirdly at peace, even with the man who won’t stop bugging me.

His nose is red and It feels oddly endearing. I tear my eyes away from Lando and back to the snow that’s started slowly falling over us.

There’s a quietness here, one you don’t get in the city. I can hear Lando breathing and music far in the distance.

I don’t realize he’s staring at me until my eyes find his again. How long has he been watching me?

“Stop that.” I say quickly.

His head tilts back ever so slightly, a curl in his face and the corner of his lip turning upwards, “Stop what?” He blinks, as if he’s the most innocent man in the world.

I motion towards him and breathe out, “Thinking…”

“What do you reckon I'm thinking, Sunshine?” He’s making me angry and I don’t even know why.

“Nothing good…” I whisper it, It feels illegal to say it any louder than that.

His eyes flick to my lips, his nose scrunching a bit just as my heart starts beating faster, “It’s good. It’s about you.”

I hum, stretching my arms out in front of me, not caring about the cold against my fingertips, “I figured, you seem to have that theme often.”

He laughs at this, shaking out his hair and standing. I watch his toned body leave me in the water all alone. The heat is the exact same yet I feel much colder without him.

Lando grabs his towel, wiping off, not looking at me.

“You're not gonna tell me?” I can’t help but say it fast to get it over with.

He looks back, wiping his chest and shrugging, “Maybe later.”

[omgeto]

☆ ONE OF HIS GIRLS — TOJI FUSHIGURO

summary: you were used to your on again, off again routine with your ex. content in being just one of his girls. until things begin to shift and he starts to make you reconsider having a relationship... with all strings attached.

w/c: 3.9k

cw: afab!reader, angst to fluff, exes to fwb to lovers, tojis a bit of a meanie but you’re a meanie too and you both love each other for that. plot with a small dash of smut so mdni!

an: listen to the weeknds “one of the girls” to see the vision. hope you enjoy!

the bass thumps through the air, reverberating in sync with the pulse of the dimly lit club. bodies move in a synchronised chaos on the dance floor, lost in the music and the allure of the night. neon lights paint the room in shades of electric blue and vibrant pink, casting an otherworldly glow on the scene.

amid the crowd, you move with an easy grace, your body swaying to the rhythm as you dance. the atmosphere is charged, and you relish the freedom it offers, the way the music seems to wash away all your worries. tonight, the world belongs to you, and you intend to make the most of it.

but not far away, toji's gaze is fixed on you. his normally composed demeanour replaced with a simmering intensity. he watches as you interact with another guy, laughter shared, bodies drawing closer as you shamelessly grind your ass against him. his fingers clench around his drink, the glass nearly cracking under the pressure of his grip.

toji has always been good at controlling his emotions, an expert at keeping his feelings hidden beneath a mask of indifference. but tonight, seeing you with someone else, it's a different kind of test. the anger that bubbles within him is a stark reminder of the feelings he's been trying to suppress.

as the song changes, the stranger's hand slides lower on your waist, and toji sees red. he downs his drink in one gulp and pushes his way through the crowd, his jaw clenched and his heart pounding in his chest. he reaches you just as the guy's fingers brush against your hip, his presence looming over the scene.

“fuck off” he demands at the guy you were dancing with, towering over the both of you. the guy looks to you for guidance, hoping that you’ll tell toji to fuck himself. but you give the stranger an appreciative smile, knowing that there was no way you could get toji to back down.

“what the fuck was that?” you interrogate toji, as the stranger stalks off.

“what the fuck was that?” toji mocks with a sneer, “what the fuck was this,”  he gestures to your outfit, and throws his arm in the direction of the stranger you were dancing with.

“it’s called having fun toji,” you argue, confused at his outburst, “what are you even doing here anyways?” you’ve barely seen toji since you broke up, and whenever you did see him it wasn’t in public.

“don’t play dumb princess,” he scoffs,, “don’t act like you didn’t know that this was my spot, that you didn’t come here just so i could see you act like a slut,”

“toji i-” technically he wasn’t wrong, you knew this was where he spent most of his time, but he hadn’t even crossed your mind since you didn’t spend time with him, outside of your bedroom.

“i don't wanna hear it.” suddenly he was tugging on your arm, dragging you somewhere. he was pissed. you could tell by the way his veins popped as he gripped onto you. 

“where the fuck are you taking me?” you ask, pulling back defiantly, “i’m not something you can just drag around.” 

“tonight you are.” he practically growls at you, “now move your ass.” 

your night was taking an unexpected turn, this wasn’t something you did with toji – not in public anyways. your relationship was complicated. you dated for a while but you both knew that it wasn’t working, but you just couldn’t let all of each other go. 

so you created a new routine, one where you could ditch your feelings and use one another for what you were good for. if one of you needed each other it was simple. you’d call, fuck, and go straight home. but tonight, he was off, the way he was bodying people through the crowd his hand still firmly placed on your wrist as he drags you along.

the air feels charged with an unspoken challenge, a silent dare to resist him. yet, despite your defiance, there's something thrilling about his possessive hold, about the way he refuses to let you slip away.

he brings you to the bathroom of the club, practically flinging you against the sink,  hiking up your dress and landing a fat smack on your ass. his hand was stretched across your neck, using it to force you to see your face in the mirror in front of you.

his fingers run over your folds, you were already soaked “no panties, you really were planning on being a whore tonight huh.”

“no i-” 

“i’ve let you get away with a lot of shit, y’know that right?” he mutters, spreading your legs wide so he could fit right behind you, he pulls out his dick and rubs it across your wet slit.

“t-toji, someones… gonna see,” you force out, trying to glance at the bathroom door but toji had your head stuck in place, keeping your eyes trained on the mirror.

“and? do you think i fucking care…” he taunts, continuing to tease you with his dick only entering with just the tip, his precum mixing into your pussy, “don’t know why you’re becoming shy now, you were happy to be a slut out there.”

he rams his dick into you, thrusting hard, making sure that you could really feel him. toji was thick, you both knew that, he’d usually stretch you out with his fingers or his tongue before you fuck, but tonight he was merciless. the pain you felt when he entered brought tears in your eyes, you felt dazed, drunk on the dick that was ploughing straight into your pussy. you couldn’t help but fuck him back, throwing your ass back on his dick as he pushes in and out of you. you were desperate. wanting to feel him even deeper than he already was.

“see look at you,” his mouth is at your ear, your eyes meet directly through the mirror, “all fucked out on my dick, and you say you aren’t a slut.”

“I’m not i-” you try and catch your breath but toji hips slam into yours in quick succession, making it hard to gather your thoughts. 

“fuck princess,” he curses, loving the way your cunt clenches around him, “you’re taking me in so well.” 

“Its t-too much toji…” 

“I don’t care. you can take it,” he was too much, stuffing you full. you couldn’t think straight. his relentless fucking had you clenching your eyes shut, holding down on on the sink for dear life. he was practically punishing you, drilling into you with no remorse as he presses his fingers on your clit. “don’t cum until i say so.”

“but toji, ‘m close, im gonna…” you moan, you could feel yourself about to cum, your body trembling as you grind against his dick. 

“this pussy’s mine y’know. i say when you come. i say who gets to fuck you. i-” toji twitches inside of you, cupping your tits as he brings you closer towards him. his cum sprays inside of your walls, with you creaming on his dick. his cum leaks down your thighs, and he thrusts back into you, as if to keep you filled. 

“fuck,” he murmurs, he swiftly pulls out of you, shoving his dick back into his pants, leaving you there a dripping mess. there was something unspoken between the two of you, you were used to fucking rough, but this time was different. the way toji stared at you, treated you, was different. 

“are you just gonna leave?” you interrogate, all worn out as you see him heading to the exit of the bathroom.

“well, you got what you wanted.” he shrugs, “do you need a ride home or somethin?”

“what is with you tonight?” you question, caught off guard by his nonchalance, “what was that?” you couldn’t deny that you were happily fucked but you and toji have been in the same space on many occasions without their being any form of jealous outburst from him.

“don’t try and act like you didn’t come here tonight wanting this outcome,” he chastises, “what did you really expect?”

“i didn’t expect you to do this whole ‘im gonna fuck you in the bahtroom and claim you as mine,’ jealousy act,” you argue, pulling your dress down as you step closer to him, your face inches from his as you whisper, “oh my god, you were jealous.”

“jealous? of what exactly?” he counters defensively, “if i recall correctly, you weren’t even focused on guy, your eyes were looking around the room for me. you wanted me.”

“believe whatever you want toji,” you chuckle, you could see it now, his reaction to the guy you were dancing with, the way he quickly snatched you up to claim you, how his eyes can't even meet yours. “i think you’re just mad that you’ve finally realised that you’re not the only one with options.”

“well go see how those options of yours like you with my cum stuffed inside of you,” he scoffs, smirking at you with his arms folded as he storms at the bathroom, leaving you speechless.

weeks have passed since you’ve last seen toji, you had no desire to see him after his random act of craziness at the club. yes toji was attractive, and he was the best lay you’ve ever had but you did not have the time for a guy trying to control you.

you step into your apartment, the soft glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains. It's been a long day, and all you want is to sink into the comfort of your own space. but as you close the door behind you, a sense of unease prickles at the back of your mind. something's off.

there wasn’t much surprise when you see him, lounging casually on your couch as if he owns the place. a mixture of irritation and surprise courses through you as he flashes you a smirk.

"what the hell are you doing here?" you demand, your voice sharper than you intended.

toji looks up, his gaze meeting yours with that familiar intensity. "nice to see you too, princess."

you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "cut the crap, toji. why are you in my apartment?"

he smirks, his lips curling into that infuriatingly arrogant smile. "missed me, did you?"

“missed you? are you kidding me?" you scoff, your irritation boiling over. "you can't just waltz into my place like it's no big deal."

"relax, I'm just here to unwind" toji stretches, his casual demeanour only adding to your irritation, “and you gave me a key remember?”

"for emergencies" you snap, your patience wearing thin, “cut to the chase toji, i've got  plans.”

his mood shifts suddenly, his posture straightening as he steps towards you. “that’s exactly what i wanted to come talk to you about,” his tone grows more serious, “y’know in the past few weeks i’ve heard a few things about you and your ‘plans.’”

“what about them toji?” you were beyond fed up at this point, he’s trying to intimidate you, and you meet his gaze head-on, refusing to back down.

“it seems that you forgot what i told you in the bathroom all those weeks ago,” his face came inches closer to yours, his lips just a fraction away from your ear. “your pussy is mine.”

“why do you think you own me all of a sudden?” you snap, slightly shoving him away from you, “what happened to us just being people who occasionally fuck.”

“because you were only fucking me.”

“so what..?” you respond harshly, “in case you forgot you’re fucking half of the city.”

toji's gaze narrows, a hint of annoyance flashing across his eyes. "don't play stupid. you know damn well what I'm talking about."

you cross your arms over your chest, refusing to back down. "and what if I am? what's your problem, toji? we were just having fun, no strings attached."

be takes a step closer, his presence almost overwhelming in the confined space of your apartment. "fun, huh?" he practically sneers, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "is that what you call it? you think I'm just some convenient option for you?"

"convenient?" your voice rises, matching his intensity. "you were the one who suggested this arrangement in the first place."

a bitter smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "yeah, because i knew you couldn't handle anything more than that."

"excuse me?” your eyes narrow, anger coursing through your veins. “just face it, the reason we broke up in the first place is because you have commitment issues. so dont act like some relationship guru.”

“commitment issues, thats rich coming from you,” his jaw clenches, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "i never said I was a guru. but don't act like you're some innocent victim in all of this."

you scoff, disbelief colouring your tone. "victim? I never claimed to be one. i knew what i was getting into, and I was fine with it. until you decided to play the possessive asshole."

toji's gaze darkens, his voice riddled with venom. "oh, so it's my fault now? i'm the asshole?"

"yes!" you practically shout, the frustration and pent-up anger finally boiling over. "you can't just waltz in and out of my life whenever it suits you, toji. i'm not here to satisfy your ego or your control freak tendencies."

he steps closer, his face dangerously close to yours. "you think you can just brush me off? go ahead, try. but you won't be able to. everybody knows you’re mine."

the audacity of his words sends a surge of rage through you. "i am not yours, toji. I am my own person, and I won't be dictated by your whims."

his eyes bore into yours, a storm of conflicting emotions raging within them. "you're playing a dangerous game princess."

"and you're deluding yourself if you think I'll just bend to your will," you retort, your voice unwavering.

toji's jaw clenches, his anger palpable. "fine. if that's how you want it, princess."

without another word, he turns on his heel and storms out of your apartment, leaving you standing there, your chest heaving with a mix of anger and defiance. as the door slams shut behind him, you realise that this confrontation might have just put an end to whatever twisted dynamic you and toji had going on. a conflicted sense of relief washes over you; you're relieved that toji is relinquishing his hold on you. however, a nagging feeling of hope stirs within you, making you question his sudden possessiveness. why does he want you all to himself? it's a thought you can't shake off, and as you ponder it, a whirlwind of uncertainty clouds your mind.

toji, on the other hand, was pissed. how could you not see that he wanted you – granted, he had an obscure way of showing it, but to him, it was clear as day. he had spent weeks grappling with the complexity of his feelings. the memories of your past together haunted him – the way you used to fit perfectly against his chest, the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears. he had buried those emotions deep, convincing himself that he was better off without the entanglements of a committed relationship.

you held a special place among the women he’d been with. it wasn't just about the physical connection, although he relished those moments when you shared that intimate space. what set you apart was your qualities – your strong mind, the way you weren't so easily fooled by him, how your eyes would glow when you’d get excited about the smallest things. with the others, there was no desire for him to stay with them after sex – they were disposable. but with you, he basked in the moments where he could lay with you after making love, cherishing the quiet intimacy.

however, after you broke up, you were cold and distant. you mirrored his own detachment, and he couldn’t help but feel used. the connection you once shared seemed to have transformed into something different, leaving him with a sense of emptiness. he found himself questioning whether he had been mistaken all along about what he thought was between you two.

deep inside, a storm raged within toji. he knew he was being unreasonable, that he had no right to demand more from you. after all, he had been the one who initiated this friends-with-benefits arrangement, drawing boundaries to keep emotions at bay. yet, watching you slip away from him, even as he tried to keep you at arm’s length, ignited a turmoil of conflicting emotions – anger, longing, and a fear of facing his own vulnerability.

days turned into weeks, and the void left by toji's absence gnawed at your thoughts. you found yourself replaying your heated exchange, questioning if you had made the right decision. toji's intensity had left an indelible mark, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more beneath his anger.

you finally had chance to be free of him, to try new options – just like you wanted. but they just didn’t hit the same (literally). the guys you’ve been with after toji were alright, they got the job done, but they were all missing something. something you feel that only he could provide for you.

tonight was no different, you lay there in the aftermath of yet another liaison, the room filled with a haze of lingering desire. the guy beside you basked in his post-coital glow, his arm lazily draped across your stomach. you should've been satisfied, content even. but instead, your mind drifted, thoughts consumed by memories of toji – his touch, his gaze, the way he made you feel alive in a way no one else could.

as you slipped out from under the guy's arm and got dressed, his sleepy voice trailed after you. "leaving so soon?"

you offered a vague smile, avoiding eye contact. "yeah, i've got an early morning."

he shrugged, seemingly unbothered, and settled back onto the bed. "alright, see you around."

the cool night air greeted you as you stepped out onto the city streets, your thoughts still dominated by memories of toji. the glow of streetlights illuminated your path as you walked, lost in your own contemplations. the truth was, despite your attempts to find solace in the arms of others, your heart still yearned for toji. the memories of your time together, the electric chemistry you shared, they all refused to fade. you had tried to suppress those feelings, to silence the longing that echoed within you. but as you walked alone through the city, you admitted to yourself that no one else could replace what you had with him.

lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the figure leaning against a nearby wall until you were practically upon him. your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked up to meet familiar dark eyes – toji. he looked just as surprised to see you as you were to see him, his usual composure momentarily faltering.

"toji?" you blurted out, unable to contain your shock.

"in the flesh," he replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and something else – something you couldn't quite place.

the awkward silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words, a whirlwind of emotions dancing between you. the memories of your last encounter, the heated confrontation that ended in a bitter clash, still lingered in the air. but beneath the surface, there was something more, a connection that time and distance hadn't completely eroded.

"toji, i..." you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words.

he looked at you, his expression unreadable. "i fucked this up."

the honesty in his voice took you by surprise, and for a moment, you were transported back to a time when it was just the two of you, when everything was simpler, and your connection was undeniable.

"it wasn’t all your fault." you admitted, your voice soft.

the tension that had hung in the air seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of understanding. in that moment, it was as if the weeks of distance and confusion melted away, leaving only the truth of your feelings.

"toji..." you began again, your voice steadier this time, "can we talk?"

wrapped in the warmth of the soft blankets, you and toji lay intertwined on the bed. his strong arms held you close, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm beneath your cheek. the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. the world outside seemed to fade away as you basked in the intimacy of the moment.

toji's fingers traced delicate patterns on your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. your fingers traced lazy circles on his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing soothing in its familiarity. the silence between you was comfortable, a testament to the unspoken understanding that had grown between you.

"you know," toji's voice broke the quiet, "i never thought we'd end up like this."

you looked up at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "like what?"

he met your gaze, his eyes holding a warmth that made your heart flutter. "like this. together."

a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you nuzzled closer to him. "yeah, well, life has a funny way of surprising us."

toji's lips found yours in a gentle kiss, a tender brush of affection that spoke volumes. as the kiss deepened, the worries and uncertainties of the past seemed to melt away, leaving only the present – the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms.

you pulled away slightly, your foreheads resting together as you looked into his eyes. "you know, for a while there, i thought we were too stubborn to admit what we really wanted."

he grinned, that familiar cocky smile that made your heart skip a beat. "well, you know me – always have to do things my own way."

you rolled your eyes playfully, swatting his chest. "yeah, that's for sure."

toji's fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch tender and affectionate. "i'm glad we figured it out, though. i don't think i could've let you go again."

a soft sigh escaped your lips, your heart swelling with emotion. "me neither."

the two of you settled back into a comfortable silence, your bodies moulded together as if they were always meant to be this way. as you lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace, you realised that the journey to this moment – the ups and downs, the twists and turns – had been worth it. because in the end, you had found your way back to each other, stronger and more connected than ever before. you thought you'd be content just being one of his girls, but now that your his girl again you were completely and utterly satisfied.

and just as your contentment settled in, toji's mischievous smirk tugged at his lips. "now come sit on my face, so I can remind you of what you’ve been missing out on," he whispered playfully.your laughter filled the room as he pulled you on top of him, his hands firmly gripping your hips. "toji!" you exclaimed, both surprised and amused. as your hands pressed against his chest, you couldn't help but revel in the familiarity of his touch. ah how you missed this.

[wttcsms]

if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | ONE

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn't get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn't just a pro soccer player, but also your ex's rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 2.9k chapter synopsis there are certain perks to having a relationship that operates on a "private not secret" basis. for example, you're allowed at least two weeks before the batshit crazy people online figure out that little miss it girl just got her ass dumped. chapter contains partying to cope, social drinking, diet culture, this fic is so chronically online LOL author's notes so normally, i would organize the fic's different arcs or acts by explicitly saying "act 1" or whatever. like i said, we're gonna be chronically online, so the arcs are described as different "eras" and when it's a new arc, we'll get a new era 🤭 each era has special graphics for it: what the media sees vs what's actually going on. think of the era intro as a moodboard for the chapters that'll follow <3

⋆˚࿔ CURRENT ERA: PARTY GIRL 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ from the outside, it's giving irl serena van der woodsen but even better, no one can possibly have the same 24 hours as you, someone needs to convince you to drop the skincare routine STAT, matter of fact - we just need your whole game card

— guest starred on the hottest pop culture podcast where it was basically just a glaze session for you (besides the last 10 minutes where the host started asking about rin), articles that want to help readers live your (unattainable if you're not rich!) lifestyle, and a devoted fanpage that updates your every move... every move.

on the inside, it's actually giving listening and actually relating to sad music, asking an 8 ball if you're the problem, being desperate enough to believe those tiktoks that say if you claim this sound and interact 3x he'll text you back, wondering when you should mail him back his stuff, keeping busy in the public eye so no one suspects how miserable you are right now

— even spotify clocked you and it's auto-generated, customized playlist perfectly depicts what you're going through (talk about the saddest soundtrack to your life), got desperate and consulted quora (this is how you know you're at rockbottom). not shown: your credit card statement (retail therapy works, right? right?!)

“Promise you’ll be on your best behavior?” Yukimiya peers over his sunglasses so he can give you a very pointed look. You tilt your head innocently.

“When am I ever not?” 

Yukimiya lets out a very loud, very drawn out, very exasperated sigh. When have you not been on your best behavior? Well, just last month, you got drunk, stumbled out to your garage, hopped in your custom-wrapped pink Porsche, and somehow ended up falling asleep on top of the hood. (In your defense, at least even in a drunken stupor, you weren’t stupid enough to drive.) Last week, you collected the numbers of about eight different athletes and models, sufficiently led every single one of them on, and are now actively ghosting all of them because they committed the cardinal sin of not sounding like, feeling like, or being anything like Rin. And speaking of the devil, Rin’s the reason why just last night, you ended up blocking not just him from your social media, but his whole entire team, too. You felt vindicated when you did this at 2 AM. Yeah, because that’ll sure show him! He hasn’t looked at your story once since the breakup (not that you’ve been keeping track or anything), but in case he tries to play it cool and gets one of his teammates to view it on his behalf, you’ll have put a stop to that plan. 

(Even when you’re spiraling, you’re still painfully aware of the fact that Rin’s most likely doing okay, if not still performing at his best. He is most certainly not doing something as childish as getting his teammates to relay info on you to him. Meanwhile, you are apparently a social liability for your closest friends. Spectacular.) 

“Don’t answer that.” You tell him. “I don’t want to know what my life looks like through your eyes.” It’s bad enough that every little thing you do gets documented, photographed, and then sensationalized on the Internet, but it’s one thing for strangers to commentate on your behavior when they don’t even have the full story. It’s another thing entirely when it’s your best friend criticizing your current lifestyle. 

“I’m just saying, it’s going to be a very casual lunch with my favorite people. Not a party.” Yukimiya clarifies. 

“Kenyu, you do realize that inviting me to a birthday party, and then saying ‘it’s not a party’ is kind of giving mixed signals right now.” Now it’s your turn to give him a pointed look, but just like his, there’s no true venom behind it. It’s Kenyu’s birthday celebration, anyway. You’re not about to corrupt Mr. Catholic Private School and tell him to throw a fucking rager. 

“If my team gets their way, there probably will be an actual party. If there is, you’ll be the first one I give the details to.” There’s a distant shout in the back; the photographer is done with his lunch, and he’s ready to wrap this shoot up. Kenyu examines his hair in the vanity mirror before getting out of his chair and giving you a quick hug. Your photos have already been taken, and there’s really no point for you to be on set still. 

However, Kenyu’s on set. Your only other viable option is to just go home and hide under your covers, rewatching Someone Great on Netflix and Doordashing Ben & Jerry’s. Juliette is home in France and won’t be coming back until the end of the month, and you’re not really in the mood to see any of your other friends. It’s tiring being around people who can’t separate front-cover-of-Vogue you from the real you. If you’re going to have to fake a smile, it might as well be on set rather than grabbing brunch with people who would kill to be able to leak something as headline-inducing as your breakup. 

“Pinky promise?” You look up at Yukimiya. “You promise to tell me about the party even if I’ll make a fool of myself because apparently I don’t act on my best behavior?” 

He rolls his eyes at your comment. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, and you know that. Besides, you could never make a fool of yourself. Anything you do is declared iconic, anyway.”

Having a famous movie director as a father and a certified Hollywood starlet as a mother, life wasn’t just set at easy mode for you. You practically were given an unlimited money hack and started off with like, five times the XP compared to any other beginner. At thirteen, you told your parents that for your birthday, you wanted to become a model. Two phone calls and a private jet flight later, and you had signed with the best modeling agency in the country and had your first ever photoshoot booked. 

Fate gave you parents with connections, and you’d be a fool to not use it to your advantage. Fate also gave you the same photoshoot as another young model, and you’d be a fool to not befriend Kenyu Yukimiya immediately. Out of all the friends you’ve ever made, fate only gives you good luck twice: first with Yuki, then with Juliette. You used to think you got lucky three times — meeting Rin for the first time was like experiencing something cosmic. Now you know better. Even rich people can have shit luck, too. 

Today’s unlucky situation is the way Yukimiya’s “favorite people��� all happen to be athletes. There’s not a single person here who isn’t his teammate or somehow related to Bastard Munchen, except for you. If you didn’t love Yukimiya so much, you would have hauled ass. It’s normally easy enough for you to avoid soccer players at parties because they don’t normally get invited to the same social events you do, but now you’re the odd one out. 

At least the food is good. You don’t have a photoshoot scheduled until next week, and that’s exactly why you’re comfortable with choking down half a bagel sandwich rather than socialize with the guys seated by you. Yukimiya’s real big on intimacy and the power of friendship or whatever, which is probably easier to achieve when you play a team sport versus the modeling industry, where good jobs are few and far between, and the reason why some models are so skinny is because they can’t afford to eat — literally and figuratively. If they’re not booking jobs, there’s no way they can buy groceries in this economy. 

He has everyone assembled at one long table in the massive backyard of his mansion. It’s honestly kind of Last Supper-core, but it fits him. Little Yuki’s finally old enough to have a seat at the big kid’s table. He’s sitting across from you, and you’re sandwiched between Kunigami and Hiori. Next to Yukimiya is Isagi. Out of everyone at this party, soccer player or not, Isagi is the person you want to avoid the most. So far, you think you’ve managed to skirt under his radar. If everything goes as planned, you’ll be able to leave this lunch with your belly full and not having to interact with anybody. It’s looking like you won’t even have to drink in order to get through this. 

“Hey, out of all of us at this table, who d’ya think would have the best shot at being a model?” Hiori is clearly speaking to you. The blue-haired player is looking directly at you, for God’s sake. You wonder if it’ll be mean to blatantly ignore him, but considering how this little question seems to have captured the attention of the surrounding players, it looks like pretending you’re hard of hearing is out of the question. 

Inside, you’re dying. The last thing you wanted to do was socialize, but it’d be selfish and bratty to request that Yukimiya find more time in his busy schedule to have a one-on-one celebration with you. You’re here to support your friend. You can stomach being friendly with boys who have probably seen Rin more recently than you’ve last seen him. Fuck — why are you thinking about Rin? Do not think about Rin!

You grab one of the premade mimosas from the tray in the center of the table. You down the glass in one swift gulp. On the outside, you flash Hiori a bright smile and give an airy giggle. “Why? You trying to get a foot into the industry?” 

Hiori’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “W-well, no. Just wanted to make conversation.” 

“No worries! I’ve been trying to keep up with whatever you guys are talking about, but even after all this time being friends with Kenyu, I still don’t really get soccer.” Your smile is still intact. You reach for another mimosa. 

“Rin didn’t teach you anything?” 

Ever since you entered the industry, you knew that you had to get comfortable with standing out. No — you needed to thrive on standing out. You needed to crave, to rely on, people’s undying attention in order to survive. In the eyes of the media, you’re the center of attention. You got what every girl your age wants. At this table, everyone’s eyes are focused on you. What you want is to be back in your room, away from their prying gazes and curious stares.

But you’re a trained professional. Your smile never slides off, never turns into a grimace. You give a casual shrug, directing your answer to the person who mentioned Rin in the first place. 

“I make it a rule to not discuss work when we’re together.” You look at Isagi, asking him with your eyes if that’s a good enough explanation for him. He holds your gaze, looking at you like he sees right through you.

You drink another mimosa. 

After loosening up because of the drinks, you find casual conversation with the Munchen players to be easy. The boys honestly never shut up, and you don’t know what they’re talking about half the time, but you’re cracking genuine smiles every so often, and by the time Yukimiya is going around and saying his thanks for everyone showing up, you are…

Not drunk, per se. You’ve built up quite the tolerance these past few weeks, and it’s hard to get wasted off of drinks that are basically three-fourths orange juice. (Seriously, was Yukimiya getting stingy with the champagne? Sober You might be able to acknowledge the fact that Yukimiya might have just been preparing for the Worst Case Scenario, which would be you hogging all the drinks to yourself. Which sort of happened. Fuck. Sometimes it sucks to be known so well.) You’re definitely tipsy, though. Maybe half a tier above tipsy? Whatever the case, you are definitely in no shape to drive. 

“Kenny,” you whine out his nickname, trying your best to pull out your puppy-dog eyes. “Please take me home.” 

“Ah, damnnit, [Name].” He runs his fingers through his dark curls. “Did you seriously get drunk off of orange juice?” 

“Champagne drunk is the best drunk. I’m pretty sure People Magazine quoted me on that like, last year, so it’s basically fact.” Yukimiya doesn’t seem overly impressed. “And I’m not drunk, but my alcohol levels right now are definitely above the legal limit. Sorry, but I don’t plan on making headlines for a DUI. Hard to spin that into something iconic.” 

This gets Yukimiya to crack a smile. “I thought you were leaning into the party girl look?” 

“Yeah, but after Justin Timberlake got caught for intoxicated driving, he made it look totally lame. He ruined it for us!” 

“I wish I could drive you back, but I have to retake some photos for this sneaker ad I’m doing, and with traffic, I’m really cutting it close already. Do you want to just come with, or hang out at my place until I get back? You should’ve said something sooner; I could’ve asked one of the guys to drop you off.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, thanks. I’m not a fan of strangers knowing where I live.” Becoming a model at such a young age thrust you into the spotlight. With media attention comes total pervs who lurk in Reddit threads and 4Chan, and stumbling upon some of the things said about you, reading the things they would do to you if they found you, all laid out in disgusting, graphic detail, left you kind of paranoid. Getting doxxed might be one of your worst fears. No Ubers. No car ride homes with strangers. “I’ll wait here. It’s been a while since I went through your things, so I’m sure there’ll be enough of your dirty secrets to uncover to keep me occupied.” 

“Did you need a ride?” 

Shitty luck, indeed. 

The teammate who decided to stay behind to help clean up (because he’s just that outstanding of a guy) is the sole reason for why you went buckwild on the mimosas. You can see why Rin was always frustrated with him.

“Nope—” You say, at the same exact time as Yukimiya nods enthusiastically. 

“Would you mind? [Name] actually lives pretty close by, so it might not be out of the way.” 

You shoot Yukimiya a scathing glare. He ignores it completely, smiling at Isagi. 

“I don’t mind. That is, if you don’t mind.” Isagi is looking at you expectantly. Yukimiya trusts him. And you trust Yukimiya. By some sort of logic, you should reasonably be able to trust Isagi. It’s clear that Kenyu wants you to carpool with him, anyway, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so happy to dump you onto him. 

“Sure. I’m ready to go whenever you are.” 

What would happen if you jumped out of a moving vehicle? 

At best, you’d get your pretty skin all scraped up, meaning your photoshoots would either have to be delayed, or you would have to endure all the clear distaste for your “unprofessionalism” in the workplace from the people who actually had to work to get to where they’re at. At worst, you end up hospitalized. Somehow, it seems easier to photoshop out a few cuts and scrapes than working with someone in a full-body cast.

As you weigh the pros and cons of jumping out of Yoichi Isagi’s vehicle — a sleek, black sedan that’s top of the line, sure, but understated luxury; it’s not flashy like the sports cars you see most athletes sporting — he smoothly reverses out of Yukimiya’s driveway. Isagi does that boyish thing where he ignores his backup camera completely and opts to rest one hand on the back of the passenger headrest, the other hand on the steering wheel. Fuck. Maybe it’s not a boyish thing. Maybe it’s manly. Isagi leans a bit into your space; not enough to bother you, but enough to where you can smell the scent of his cologne. He smells clean and fresh. Maybe it’s not cologne, but laundry detergent and fabric softener. Somehow, you find this very fitting of him. 

He glances out the window to check for traffic and eases you two onto the open road. 

He’s not playing any music, and you’re sure as hell not about to ask for the aux. You look out the window instead, watching the world pass you by through tinted glass. It makes everything around you appear darker. Somehow, you find this to be very fitting for you.

“You live around this area, yeah?” Isagi asks you, and you’re reminded that if you want to go home, you actually have to let the driver know where home is. 

“Yeah, sorry. Keep heading straight, and I’ll let you know when there’s a turn coming up.” Talking to Isagi shouldn’t feel so awkward. After all, you managed to talk (and actually enjoy talking) to all of Yukimiya’s teammates. You even got along well with Kaiser. But it just feels weird — you’ve never met him directly, but you’ve heard so much about him, that it’s hard to not see Rin’s rants every time you look at Isagi. 

So you don’t — look at Isagi, that is. You look at everything else. His car is clean. There are air fresheners in the AC vents. The floor of the passenger seat is oddly clean, like no one ever sits here. If that’s the case, you hope your heels didn’t track in any grass blades or dirt. 

“Um,” Isagi awkwardly clears his throat at a red light. “When I mentioned Rin earlier at the party…” 

“What about it?” Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Since the car is stationary, you’re in the clear, right? If you just unlock the door, you can escape on foot. Your house is now close enough that it’ll just count as today’s exercise. 

“Sorry for bringing him up. I didn’t know—”

“—didn’t know what?” You turn to face him. His jaw is surprisingly sharp, and you watch the way he swallows before he answers you. 

“I didn’t know that you two broke up.” 

No one knows that you two broke up. You’re still in the process of making sense of it all, and because you’re so messed up over it, naturally you had to confide in Yukimiya and Juliette. Neither of them would ever share that secret, though. 

So why the hell does Yoichi Isagi know?

“The light’s green.” You tell him, shifting your body in the seat, avoiding him by positioning yourself even closer to the door. 

Neither of you say anything else during the drive.

[rebelspykatie]

The Gift That Keeps on Giving - Part 1

AO3

Steve’s always been generous with gifts. Growing up, he had access to money that allowed him to dote upon his friends and loved ones. His ex hated it, said he was flaunting his money, but Steve just liked showing people he cared. It wasn’t about the price of the gift, it was about how he listened and remembered their interests. It just benefited him that he never had to worry about the cost. 

He’s never hesitated to follow through on his gut instinct before, whether something will be too extravagant for the receiving party. Even when he got Jonathan that fancy new camera he wouldn’t shut up about, or Nancy that vacation to Singapore for Christmas after two years together. Even when it ended in breakups both times. He still looks back and remembers the appreciative smiles on their faces when they realized he was listening. He may not have been the right person for either of them, but he was still a good boyfriend. 

There’s no way he’s going to let this year be the first year he lets someone down. His current partner is a little eccentric. Steve was going for something different, he never really intended to find a local metalhead that was into his preppy, jock looks, but it’s been nice having so little in common. Every day he learns about something new, some new band or movie that even Robin hasn’t heard of before. It keeps things interesting. 

So when this hot new metal band Corroded Coffin comes onto the scene, it’s all Steve hears about for months. The album is on a constant loop in the car. The lead singer’s face is practically burned into Steve’s eyelids from how many times they’ve watched the music video for their radio single. He knows when they announce their first tour, he absolutely has to get tickets to the show. What are the odds that they’re playing in Indy and it’s right before Christmas? It’s perfect timing for Steve to make this the best Christmas ever for his boyfriend, who doesn’t have the extra cash lying around for an expense like that. 

Except, when he went to buy tickets, he got the date wrong. He should’ve set an alarm, instead of relying on his shitty memory. The presale happened the day prior, and tickets are gone. Resell prices for tickets are astronomical, something even Steve isn’t willing to fork out for what might not even be a legitimate ticket. He’s been burned before with scalpers, he won’t make that mistake again. He starts scouring the internet, trying to find another source for the tickets. Tries calling the venue to see if there are any available if he physically goes down to the ticket office. Nothing works. 

As the date creeps closer, Steve gets desperate. Robin throws out the idea of messaging the band to see if they’re sympathetic to his story. He never expects anyone to respond when they drunkenly reach out to the band, but he wakes up groggy to a message sitting in his inbox. He stares at his phone in disbelief when he sees the message came from the official Corroded Coffin account. 

Steve doesn’t even remember what he said in the messages from the night prior. He reads back over them and cringes. A not so coherent ramble about how he couldn’t become the worst boyfriend ever at Christmas of all times. Just word vomit everywhere about how this guy might leave him if he doesn’t get the tickets. Which is absurd, because his boyfriend doesn’t even know he’s trying to do this. Maybe he’s got some insecurities from past relationships. At least he didn’t bring up Nancy. 

The reply simply reads ‘Slow down there, pretty boy.’ 

He shakes off the last vestiges of sleep and responds ‘Sorry, I was a little drunk and didn’t think anyone was going to see or respond to this.’ 

The little grey dots pop up right away. ‘You weren’t the only drunk insomniac last night.’ 

Steve huffs a laugh. ‘How crazy do you think I am?’ 

He wonders where they are right now, if it even is one of the band members answering. They probably have someone running their social media accounts. He snaps back to reality when he gets another message. ‘I don’t think it’s crazy to want to make your boyfriend happy. I wanna help.’ And that’s how it starts. 

They trade messages back and forth. He finds out it’s not an intern running their account, that they all have access to it, but only one of them enjoys it. The lead guitarist Eddie Munson is apparently the one responding to him. He sent a picture of his guitar with a hand wrapped around it painted with black nail polish. The same hand that wraps around it in their music video, decked out in a dazzling array of chunky rings. 

He’s never talked to a rock star before. Sure, he’s met famous people through his dad, but they were the boring kind of famous, senators and CEOs. Eddie talks about the tour they’re on. It sounds grueling, like their record took off faster than they expected and now they’re on this whirlwind tour that they love, but it’s daunting having people clamoring over you just a few months after anonymity. 

Before long, they’re talking every day. To the point that Steve feels like he hears more from Eddie Munson than his own boyfriend. He realizes how much of a problem it is when Robin catches him smiling at his phone and makes a joke about being in the honeymoon phase, but he’s not texting his boyfriend. He’s messaging Eddie. How did he get so wrapped up in all of this that he didn’t even see how distant they’ve been? He looks back at the messages with his boyfriend and they haven’t text each other in five days. He can’t even count how many messages have been shared between his account and Corroded Coffin’s since then. There’s too many to go back and tally up. 

Is it emotional cheating if he didn’t realize it was happening? One day he barely knew who Eddie was, the next he was grinning in the car when his music came on, thinking of the silly thing they were messaging about last night. Their messages took a turn from him asking for something to getting to know everything about Eddie Munson’s life as a guy raised in a small town and catapulted into the spotlight, and Steve’s attempts to claw his way out of his father’s grasp and build a family he could call his own. The guilt slaps him in the face. He’s been messaging with one of his boyfriend’s favorite band members, and he has no idea. Telling Eddie Munson things he’s never admitted to his boyfriend. Laid all his fears, hopes, and dreams out there to the wrong person. 

He’s lost sight of what he even started this for, to win over his boyfriend and give him the best Christmas ever. It feels weird to bring it up now in conversation with Eddie. To ask for something like a desperate fan and remind Eddie that he’s a commodity to the public feels cheap. This all spiraled out of control so fast. There’s only one thing he can do. End it. Before this gets worse and he falls stupidly in love with some rockstar he’s never seen in person.

Part 2

[babydollmarauders]

WHO’S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME? — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which jack hughes should be afraid of what y/n can do to his reputation

notes: yeah, idk what this is either; there’s not much plot.

september 16th, 2023

deuxmoi

24,107 likes

deuxmoi pop sensation, y/n, is seen hands on with new boy toy?

if anyone has any information on who this man is, do come forward! we’d love to know who america’s queen of heartbreak anthems is with now!

view all 549 comments

user82 the hand placement?! HELLO?!

user3 oh great, new music where she makes herself some sad victim again

user55 a new love album next?! maybe?!

user09 let’s not get ahead of ourselves, it’s some low grade pap photos posted on a gossip blog. it could’ve been a first date for all we know

user45 @/user09 with the way they are in these pics? absolutely NOT a first date. y/n has famously said she doesn’t get “frisky” early on because of her ex. most definitely a bf

user92 oh her next song is gonna HIT

user06 that guy kinda looks…. where were these taken and when?

deuxmoi all the sender said was that they saw them in michigan last night! know something?

user06 hmm the tl matches! that looks like it could be @/jackhughes , a hockey player for the New Jersey Devils!

user98 OH MY GOD, YOU’RE RIGHT!

user67 those hands?! girlie better never let him go!

september 27th, 2023

y/nofficial

liked by sabrinacarpenter and 4,628,961 others

y/nofficial every dead end street led you straight to me 🤍

view all 7,923 comments

user72 SOFT LAUNCH OH MY GOD

user5 oh he’s got her using emojis?! she’s down BAD

user29 i’m so happy for her, she deserves so much love and happiness and it seems like he gives that to her 🫶

user6 MOTHER?!

user01 what poor boy did she sink her claws into this time?

user9 if you don’t like her, why are you on her post? obsessed much?

sabrinacarpenter he scored 😉

y/nofficial sab!! nah, i think i did!

user92 he better be treating her damn good! it’s what she deserves after ‘he who shall not be named’!

user76 i know who you meant but also started giggling at the idea of her writing an album about voldemort 😭

y/nofficial @/user76 gasp! don’t you know who lover is about?! the dark lord and i just couldn’t make it work :(

october 10th, 2023

jackhughes

liked by y/nofficial, nicohischier, and 815,736 others

jackhughes as a wise woman once said: “i was enchanted to meet you”

tagged y/nofficial

view all 2,865 comments

y/nofficial my sweet boy 🤍

jackhughes my pretty girl

user76 A HARD LAUNCH

user94 THEY’RE SO SICKENINGLY CUTE 😭 SHE DESERVES THIS

user36 JACK IS DATING Y/N?! OH THE SONGS THAT WILL COME OUT OF THIS

user8 he could do so much better

lhughes_06 about damn time

trevorzegras JACK WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE JOKING

user02 oh they’re so cute 🥹

dawson1417 did you just… hard launch with the biggest singer in america rn?

jackhughes y/n says “what? like it’s hard?” idk what that means

user16 can we talk about how happy she looks?! and i know her hockey loving self is giggling and kicking her feet over her landing a hockey player! too cute!!

john.marino97 if her next RED-like album is about you, i’m requesting a trade. can’t believe i’m gonna have to listen to songs about YOU

january 1st, 2024

y/nofficial

liked by jackhughes and 5,827,025 others

y/nofficial thank you 2023, you brought so much love and laughter 🤍 can’t wait to see what 2024 brings!

tagged jackhughes

view all 7,503 comments

user86 oh she’s so down bad she was taking pics of him at his game 😭

user9 one tour pic and three pics regarding to jack? she’s so in love

jackhughes here’s to another year with you, my talented girl

y/nofficial i can’t wait for another year with you, my love 🤍

user55 i can’t wait to see you in KC this year!!

user7 she’s truly living her best life and i’m obsessed!!

user21 i hope 2024 is just as good to you as 2023 was!

january 26th, 2024

deuxmoi

36,592 likes

deuxmoi fan submission: trouble in paradise?

pop sensation, y/n, and her boyfriend, hockey player Jack Hughes, were seen out by a fan last night. the fan claims that they overheard y/n consoling Jack about his recent injury that has left him unable to play. in the video (on our site), you can hear y/n telling Jack “i know not playing is hard, i know it’s sad-”. Jack is heard cutting her off and snapping “you don’t get to tell me about sad. you don’t get it, so stop acting like you do.”according to the fan, y/n left the date alone and in tears.

what do you guys think, is this couple over?

view all 1,251 comments

user29 wow what an asshole, she was just trying to be comforting

user4 wtf?

user07 yeah, can’t say i didn’t expect them to end soon enough

user99 she was trying to comfort him and he snapped at her? yeah, i’d hope they’re over

user20 she deserves better

user19 it’s just an argument, everyone is being so overdramatic

user3 do i think they’re over? no. if we know anything about y/n, it’s that she’s forgiving, sometimes to a fault.

user67 i don’t think they’re broken up but if she was leaving alone and crying, i hope they will be soon enough

user82 has anyone thought that maybe he didn’t need comforting?

user13 umm, obviously he did if he snapped at her

user98 idk about everyone else, but i do think they’re broken up if she left alone and was visibly upset

user23 oh i can’t wait to hear what she writes about him. i’ve known he seemed too good to be true

february 14th, 2024

y/nofficial

liked by oliviarodrigo and 7,431,846 others

y/nofficial happy valentines to my favorite boy 🤍

the most kind-hearted, respectful, and loving man i’ve ever had the pleasure of being able to call mine. nobody is perfect, but i think you’re pretty close to it. i’m so eternally grateful to have you in my life 🤍

tagged jackhughes

view all 278 comments

user6 oh, she’s still with him

user02 y/n, baby, please come to your senses

user14 i don’t like him at all after last month

jackhughes happy valentines, beautiful girl ❤️

user65 “nobody is perfect” oh, mother is telling us rn

comments on this post are now limited

march 23rd, 2024

deuxmoi

29,783 likes

deuxmoi looks like y/n and her hockey beau have called it quits! eagle eyed fans spotted last night that they’ve unfollowed each other on instagram and y/n deleted all photos of him.

previously, y/n ONLY followed jack, now she’s back down to 0, which fans seem to read as a finality to their relationship.

view all 1,736 comments

user95 about time! after that spat in january, i feel like everyone was waiting for this

user72 EVERYONE MOVE! EVERYONE REJOICE! MOTHER IS FREE!

user24 GOOD RIDDANCE!!

user61 can’t wait to hear who the catalyst was, him or her?

user3 obviously she’ll make herself out to be the victim

user61 @/user3 tell me you’ve never actually listened to y/n without telling me you’ve never actually listened to y/n 🙄 she doesn’t shy away from admitting if she was the one who ruined a relationship, she admits she has problems and that sometimes she gets in her own head

user8 it was obviously him after that video in january

user23 everyone is celebrating but have we stopped for a second to realize that she’s probably really heart broken right now?

user70 fr! like, she seemed so in love with him and i feel so bad for her. she seemed to love him a lot more than her exes and we all know she’s a hopeless romantic at heart, so she was probably imagining marriage and babies with him and then he showed his true colors

april 1st, 2024

y/nofficial

liked by tatemcrae and 14,698,276 others

y/nofficial there’s always a fool, but i guess all’s fair in love and poetry… new album THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT. out May 14 🩶

but surprise! the first and only single, Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? comes out April 19 🩶

view all 3,279 comments

user18 MOTHER DOES NOT PLAY!!! AHHH

user63 may 14th 💀 she said “i’m not fucking around, y’all WILL know who this is about.”

user9 significance of may 14th?

user63 @/user9 it’s jack’s birthday 💀

user00 OH SHE MUST REALLY HAVE SOME SHIT TO SAY IF SHE’S ACTUALLY DROPPING A SINGLE BEFORE THE ALBUM

user78 i wonder if jack feels stupid yet

user12 new y/n album before GTA6

user93 the vibes??? mother didn’t write an album, she wrote a EULOGY

april 19th, 2024

y/nofficial

liked by john.marino97 and 9,726,820 others

y/nofficial at this hearing, i stand before my fellow members of The Tortured Poets Department with a summary of my findings.

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? out now.

view all 2,738 comments

user72 i’m speechless

user2 “you don’t get to tell me about sad” SHE REALLY FUCKING DID THAT

user33 I AM IN SHOCK!

user94 MOTHER CALLED HIM OUT

user78 once again i ask, @/jackhughes do you feel stupid yet?

user61 dude just got surgery and she still came for his neck 😭

user09 i mean, not like she was gonna change the release date just because of that but it’s still so 😭

user22 “the scandal was contained….. at all costs keep your good name” she really spoke on the january spat, didn’t she?

user12 “WHO’S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME?”

user77 @/jackhughes you should be

john.marino97 🩶🩶

user82 oh he’s MESSY! i love it 💀

user50 tbh, i look at this single like a warning. it sounds like jack didn’t think it through before he broke her heart and didn’t think she would speak on him, but she’s warning him right now that he should be scared because she has a lot to say about him and their relationship

user31 she’s so— i love her

february 8th, 2025

y/nofficial posted on their story

february 10th, 2025

y/nofficial

liked by john.marino97 and 11,762,936 others

y/nofficial brand new, full throttle <3

view all 3,627 comments

user93 i- did she just inadvertently tell us we’ve all been wrong about who So High School is about?

user77 this is the fastest she’s ever gotten into a new relationship and you know that means she has to be in LOVE

user04 AHHHHH Y/N AND JOHN MARINO

user82 how do you know it’s him? she didn’t even tag anyone and you can’t see his face

user04 @/user82 she posted john on her story a couple days ago! they’re on vacation together while he’s on bye-week!

user23 i don’t wanna get ahead of myself but,,, they met through jack, did they not? and now they’re dating? mother is messy

user51 is it messy? yeah, maybe- but people have already looked back through old interviews of his, and she’s been his celeb crush for a WHILE now. and i mean, hey, she’s dating someone only a couple years older than her now, one can only assume he’s more mature than j*ck

user92 the way she clings onto him 🥹

user88 she deserves happiness, i really hope he gives that to her 🫶

john.marino97 i knew what i wanted and i got her ♥️

[fbfh]

makey makeover - rodrick x hyperfeminine reader

wc: 1.5k

pairing: rodrick x gn hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: rodrick isn't used to being taken care of but only briefly mentioned at the end, rodrick does not know what hyaluronic acid is

summary: rodrick can never say no to you, but if it means having you straddle his lap while you use all your skincare products on him and listen to music together, he wouldn't want to say no anyway.

song recs: makey makeover - crazy ex girlfriend cast, jesus of suburbia - green day, perfect day - hoku

a/n: I started writing a kids book yesterday?? like I finished the first chapter and outline in one sitting???? it wasn't at all planned but when the muse strikes yk. Anyway I don't think it will take me as long to write so if you wanna read a chapter book about magic and girlhood and unicorns and other mythical creatures with bella sara vibes that's probs gonna be ready reasonably soon lol

tags: @yesv01 @magcon7280 @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @kiara7777 @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @Maggzsworld @xiaos_crustytoenails @ionlymadethisaccountbcihadto @strawberryjen124 @Isaentremundos @hxnbah

Rodrick likes to think he's a pretty tough guy. Between being born and raised on the rebellious messages of pop punk music, and the nonconforming ideologies of emo and other alt subcultures, Rodrick knows in his bones that he'll never let the man break his spirit. He'll never bow down to someone just because they want him to do something. He's had countless opportunities to stand by these beliefs at school and at home, and he has never - not once - come close to doing anything for someone simply because they want him to. Rodrick has been confident in his ability to never give into other people’s orders, no matter how much they demand of him. 

Until now.

“Pretty please, Roddy…?” You pout your glossy lips at him, blinking up at him and batting your doll like eyelashes, and that’s all it takes to make him fold.

“...I guess, if you really-” He’s cut off by an excited squeal from you, and he’s glad that you’re too distracted to notice him blush. Rodrick has never felt his willpower give in so fast, but as he watches you rush around your room and smile, delighted that he’d agreed, he realizes that he’d do pretty much anything you tell him too. Ben and Chris would call him a pussywhipped simp, but… no, that’s pretty much it. He chuckles a little at the thought, watching the pile of stuff grow. He recognizes nail polish and tweezers, but that’s about it.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” You say, rambling happily as you settle down on your bed across from him. “I’ve been wanting to do self care stuff but I’ve done so many everything showers and self care nights there’s nothing left for me to do on myself. But you…”

You take his face in your manicured hands, moving him around to inspect more closely.

“You are in serious need of a facial.”

Rodrick doesn’t really process what you’re saying, he just loves when you touch his face like that. 

“...Uh, yeah totally.” He mutters absentmindedly, distracted by your sweet smell. After a moment, he processes what you said, and chuckles, leaning back into your silky pink pillows. “Babe, you can do anything to me, anywhere, anytime.” 

You giggle, feeling your face flush a little as you get all your stuff organized. Rodrick runs his hands up and down your waist, fidgeting with your soft fluffy pajama shorts and big loded diper shirt you wear all the time. He sees the little burn marks and worn out hems and realizes it’s the one you stole from him. He smiles softly, loving the way you look in it even more now. His attention is pulled back to you when you push something over his face, brushing his hair back. You adjust the fluffy cat ears on the headband, making sure you have access to his whole face. Rodrick giggles a little, knowing he must look a little out of place wearing a pierce the veil shirt and fluffy kitty cat headband. 

“I don’t think my forehead has been this exposed since like, 4th grade…” he chuckles.

“That’s good, you’ll have less sun damage that way.” You smile, putting some micellar water on a cotton pad. It’s a little cold to the touch, but after a moment, the feeling of you gently wiping over his face and neck ends up being way more relaxing than he had expected it to. You throw it away, and he hears it land in your trash can with a crinkle. 

“I’m gonna mist your face now, okay?” You say, and he nods. You spray rose water on his face, and Rodrick can’t get over how considerate you are to give him a heads up like that. Rodrick smiles a little as he adjusts to the subtle floral smelling facial spray he’s used to smelling on you. He basks in the quietness of your room, opening his eyes as he watches you sitting on his stomach and looking for the next product. You hesitate for a moment. You feel like something’s missing, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“Oh,” you say, reaching for your phone as you remember. You open up Spotify, and put your favorite playlist on shuffle - the one you and Roddy share. It’s full of both your favorite songs, mostly boiling down to early 2000’s pop punk and trashy pop. It’s chaotic but really does suit you both perfectly.  Rodrick smiles suddenly as he instantly recognizes the opening notes of Jesus of Suburbia begin to play. You take out your favorite serum, jasmine and blackberry hydrating jelly, and place a few drops around his face. 

“What’s that one?” Rodrick asks, picking up another bottle. 

“Hyaluronic acid.”

Rodrick looks at the little dropper bottle.

“Does it, like, melt the flesh right off your bones?” 

“No…?” You chuckle, massaging his cheekbones and jawline with your fingertips.

“Then why is it called hydroponic acid?” He asks rhetorically, “Acid is supposed to melt shit.”

You laugh again, and he makes a mental note to sample your laughter for a song at some point in the future. He doesn’t know which one yet, but he knows it will be his best one yet. 

You rub some cooling aloe vera gel into his skin, then take out your rose quartz gua sha stone. You tap your fingertips against his chest, and he looks at you with an amused smile.

“What does that do?”

He watches you work, eyes locked on you. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed and peaceful. 

“I’m prepping your lymphatic drainage system.” 

That clarified absolutely nothing for Rodrick, but he trusts you implicitly. You’re so good at so many things, but Christ, you could write a book on all that girly beauty stuff. It’s way more hardcore than people think it is. You know about all these acids and drainage systems and the pink rock thing, and even though he’s impressed, he’s not at all surprised by how good you are at all this stuff.

You begin gently gliding your gua sha over Roddy’s skin, working from his forehead down to his neck and jawline. He stops talking as you work, and it’s like you melt all of the stress out of his body through his face. He could fall asleep with you touching him so gently like this. After a while you rub some more cream into his face, then place something under his eyes that feels like thinly sliced jello.

“What the fuck?” He asks, bringing another laugh out of you. He watches you take two more of the weird jelly things and put them under your own eyes.

“They’re under eye masks.” You answer with a chuckle. “They hydrate your skin, depuff, and get rid of dark circles.”

“Huh…” he hums in response, playing with the patches as they sit on his face. 

Once you’ve used half your arsenal of skincare products on him, you peel off his sheet mask and let him sit up. You hand him a mirror, and as he sits up and stretches a little, kind of wishing you had more to do, he feels like he just woke up from the best sleep of his life. 

“So? What do you think?” You ask excitedly. He can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are. Rodrick takes the mirror you offer him. When he sees his reflection, he almost doesn’t recognize himself. 

“Oh my god…” he says with a soft smile. He’s glowing. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked this soft and moisturized and… cared for before. He doesn’t even have any crusty eyeliner from yesterday smudged around his eyes. He can never get it off all the way, but one wave of your magic wand, and it’s gone. He laughs again, touching his cheek. He looks up at you in surprise.

“My face is so smooth…” “I know!” You exclaim in delight. “So, do you like facials after all?”

You have a feeling you already know the answer, but Rodrick looks up at you anyway.

“Yeah,” he states, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips soft and exfoliated, topped with your favorite strawberry lip balm. You think Rodrick is right, it does taste better in a kiss. After he pulls away, it takes him a minute for his brain to stop short circuiting. 

“So… uh, are we doing this again next weekend?” 

You laugh at his hopeful tone of voice, how he raises his eyebrows a little. 

“Yeah.” You nod, taking him in for another kiss. You take his hands in yours, looking at the stick and poke tattoo he got of the heart you drew on his hand in chemistry class, his little calluses from drumming. “Next week I can do something about your cuticles.”

[afterglowsainz]

fresh out the slammer | max verstappen

summary: after you broke up with your boyfriend, you join your friends for a night out in monaco and decide it's a good idea to invite max

warnings: fluff, mentions of breakups, drinking

word count: 1.8k

a/n: giggling and kicking my feet at the thought of a situationship with max

it’s been one month since you and your ex-boyfriend of one year broke up. you couldn’t say you were heartbroken because you really weren’t, like most men do at some points in their lives, he was disappointing you long before you broke up with him, so in a way, you mourn your relationship while you were still in it. now you just felt a bit lonelier than before, but you had definitely moved on.

on a saturday night, you had a few friends over to your monaco apartment for dinner and a very well deserved gossip session. you told them all about your breakup with your most recent boyfriend and how you were feeling almost too good.

“guys, what if we go out?” one of your best friends suggests. “a friend of mine is having a party at this club downtown and is supposed to be this very exclusive thing.” you thought about it for a few seconds after agreeing. it has been a while since you went out with your friends, especially in monaco where everything can happen. you got ready in less than ten minutes since you already were put together and joined your friends in the car on your way to the club. 

during the quick ride you check your instagram and saw that your friend max posted a story. you and max have had this weird relationship for years, were you’re both really close friends who’ve also liked each other forever, but none of you had actually made a move on each other (except for that one time, but you’ve never talked about it). you clicked on his profile picture and the story popped up, a picture of him and his friends playing fifa on his couch. you smiled and liked the photo, putting your phone away.

once you got to the club your friend led you all to the entrance and when she gave her name to the bouncer they let you all in. the place was completely packed, but she took you all to a place on the top that was a bit less full and looked more like that exclusive event your friend was talking about. soon enough, alcohol was running through your system and your body was moving along with the blasting music at the club when a thought almost made you stop on your tracks. you looked for your best friend all over the place and ran over to her when you saw her near the bar.

“hey.” you call out loudly over the music.

“hey.” she smiled at you. “having fun?” she asks and you nod.

“can i tell you this idea i just had?” she takes a sip from her drink and nods. “would it be a good idea if i invited max?” her eyes widen with surprise and gives you a knowing smile.

“max like max verstappen?” she asks. “like your max?” you nod again, this time more euphorically.

“yes, my max.” you took a sip of your drink and cleared your throat. “he’s in monaco, so why not? the worst that can happen is he says no.” you shrug, like the idea of him not wanting to see you didn’t kill you a bit inside.

“go for it!” she exclaims. “absolutely, yes, invite him over.”

you smiled and headed over to the balcony, relieved to feel the cold air of the monaco night hit your skin, cooling you down. you took out your phone and hover over max’s contact for a moment, wondering if you should text or call first. you decided to call since that would be much more immediate. you listen to the phone ringing for a few moments and when you thought it would send you to voicemail, you heard max’s familiar voice.

“hello.” he answers.

“heyyy.” you greet him with a smile that he couldn’t see.

“y/n.” he calls your name with happiness. “how are you?”

“i’m good, how are you?” you ask. “what are you up to?”

“oh, i’m good, yeah.” he says. “just hanging out with some friends. you?”

“i’m in monaco.” you say looking at the stars. “actually, i’m at this club, i was wondering if you wanted to come? you can bring your friends, my friends are here too.”

you waited for him to answer so long you thought the line had dropped.

“what club are you in?” you gave him the name and heard some loud voices in the background. “okay, we’ll be there in twenty.”

you smiled at the sky and bit your lip.

“okay.” you answered and finished the call.

when you got back inside you met your friends again and let them know that max was coming with his friends. twenty minutes later, you were still dancing in the middle of the place when someone tapped your shoulder with tenderness. when you turned around you saw those blue eyes that you loved staring back at you.

“hello, you.” you smiled at him and he returned it.

“long time no see.” he said, giving you a small kiss on the cheek. you felt yourself flustered and were grateful that the place was mostly dark with a few colored lights.

“you should’ve told me when you got here, i would’ve gone outside to get you.” you frowned, ignoring the blush on your face.

“i wanted it to be a surprise.” he defends himself. 

“it can’t be a surprise if i invited you.” you fought back and he placed his arm around your shoulders.

“you know what i mean.” he clicked his tongue, teasing you.

you spent the next hour dancing, drinking and talking with max. it was like the world around you had disappeared and it was only the two of you left in that club. when you took a quick break from dancing he got close to you and whispered in your ear.

“do you want to go outside?” he asks. you felt yourself blush again but nodded.

he was about to guide you to the balcony but you redirected him to the exit of the club. you stopped briefly to let your friend know that you were leaving with max for a moment so she wouldn’t worry and she just winked at you. you took his hand so you wouldn’t lose him while walking through all the people at the club and once you were outside you dropped his hand, even though you didn’t really wanted to, but the last thing you wanted was to make it uncomfortable for him.

“you wanna take a walk?” he asks while taking his jacket and putting it around your shoulders.

you nod and smile at him, grateful for his jacket. you both start walking along the streets, talking about nothing in particular until he makes the question you knew he wanted to ask all night.

“how’s it going with your boyfriend?” he doesn’t look at you while asking, no matter how much you wanted him to do so.

“we broke up.” you answer dryly.

“oh.” he finally looks at your face for any hint of sadness, but there is none. you’re not sad about it.

“how’s it going with your girlfriend?” you ask now, remembering the gorgeous redhead he was dating a few months ago.

it was on one of those few occasions both of you were in monaco at the same time. you were leaving from café de paris with your best friend and you crossed him at the entrance, next to him was one of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever seen, holding his hand. you remembered she introduced herself as his girlfriend and your heart skipped a beat at the word, even though you had no right to feel anything like that since you had a boyfriend yourself. you said your goodbyes and he did too and that was the last time you saw him.

“what was her name again?” you asked. “i can’t remember.”

“we broke up.” max ignored your last question, answering the first one you asked instead.

“oh.” you frowned, sad for him for whatever reason. maybe it was the alcohol in you bringing out all the emotions. “what happened?”

“it just didn’t work out.” he answers simply, giving you a reassuring smile.

“when did you break up?” you knew you were a bit out of line meddling into his relationship. especially when he didn’t ask you these types of questions about your own breakup, but you couldn’t help it.

“a few months ago.” he said, completely unfazed by your curiosity. “actually, it was the day you met her.”

“at the café de paris?” you questioned with surprise and he nodded. “why would you break up with your girlfriend there? it’s such a lovely place.”

he wanted to laugh at your remark, but bit his lip instead.

“i saw you.” he whispered and you felt like all the air was leaving your lungs.

“you broke up with your girlfriend because you saw me?” you ask incredulously and he nods again. “why would you do that?”

“why do you think, y/n?”

he holds your eyes for a few seconds until you turn your head and continue walking. you didn’t answer him and he didn’t say anything else, his words hanging in the air while you got wrapped into a comfortable silence. you were trying to process his train of thought while also processing yours. could his words have such an impact on you? did he feel about you the same way you’ve always felt about him? would he want to try something with you? with each question you asked in your head, you felt yourself leaning more and more into max until the back of your hands brushed each other while walking. he felt so familiar in so many ways.

before you could realize it, you were both outside of your apartment building. did you really walk this much?

“well.” he said, breaking the silence. “i guess this is where i leave you.” he pointed with his chin at the building.

you looked at him for a few seconds, your mind racing ten thousand miles per hour.

“you could stay.” you whisper.

max looked at you, a sparkle in his eyes you knew too well.

“you’re drunk.” he murmured, just like you had. you shook your head and got closer to him, touching the collar of his shirt gently.

“just as much as you.” you were so close you could see every speck of color in his eyes. “i think the walk here sober me up, anyway.” you joke, taking your eyes off of him, fearing that looking at him a second longer would make you do something unexpected.

“are you sure about this?” he took your face between his hands, forcing you to look at him. the beautiful blue of his eyes was now much darker and you fell a little bit more in love just by looking at them.

“of course i’m sure.” your voice low, only for him to hear. “i’ve always been.”

his eyes went from your eyes to your lips, and then back into your eyes.

“come inside.” you ask.

he smiles at you like he just won a championship, taking your hand and pulling you into the building.

[put-me-through-the-wall]

Girl Next Door- Pt. 2

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: Simon finally accept your offer for dinner. Did you mention you can cook?

A/N: I was a little slow on this but the idea of them getting close was stressing me out, okay? Also my MIL was in town and I couldn't get in the groove. All the support so far is amazing, thank you guys so much! If y'all like it there will be more to come. Warning: still slow burning

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Part I

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Simon sits across from you at your tiny dining table pressed against the wall of your cramped kitchen. You managed to lure him in with a fairly nice bottle of unopened scotch you found in the back of your cabinet that had potentially fallen into one of your own boxes when moving from your ex's house. 

He looks around your quaint little one bedroom apartment. It was a lot different than his own. The literal layout was the same. No extra rooms or walls but you’d done something different in here. The whole space had a cozy feeling to it. Every surface was decorated with useless gadgets and trinkets that he didn't understand the purpose of. Lots of blankets, pillows, soft things. You had music quietly playing through your TV speakers in the living room. A few lamps fill the dim room creating a subtle yellow glow that hits the high points of your face, softening your tired features.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" you suddenly blurt out.

"S'cuse me?" Simon asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Lately I've been feeling like there's something inside of me that attracts horrible guys. Like, is there a beacon coming out my head that says 'hey, come over here. I'm vulnerable and easy'."

Simon pauses, unsure how to respond. He watches your face closely. You're sad eyes looking to him for an answer he doesn't have. "I think you're...nice," but he has a feeling that's not what you wanted to hear.

"nice?" You let out a humorless laugh. "Maybe that's the problem. Nice must translate to doormat," You sigh and drop your head into your hands. 

Simon takes a sip of his drink. He's growing concerned this is entering too friendly territory. Then you pop your head back up.

"So, how much did you hear?"

"Not much"

"Yeah right," You toss him a coy smile. “Can I tell you what happened?”

“Sure,”

“Alright, so” you take a sip of your own drink and a deep breath before recounting your story. "I met him at work. He was really nice and offered to pick me up a coffee on his way in one day. I haven’t made any friends at work yet so it was nice just to chat over a coffee. Then we started having lunch together. Nothing serious just in the break room but it felt good to hear about something other than notes from my editor. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I mean I moved here to focus on myself not continue dating more crappy guys. So of course he started texting me and he was really sweet. He complimented my outfits and thought all my jokes were hilarious apparently. I really wasn’t trying to get involved with this guy though. He said something about hearing I can cook and of course I said I do. It’s part of my job, duh. He’s giving my shit about it so I invited him over for dinner. I made this creamy potato gnocchi with Italian sausage that I got from that great butcher on the corner. I even hand rolled the gnocchi. I mean, who wouldn't kill for an authentic Italian meal?"

"He's sounds like some guy"

"Not really, I was testing out a new recipe for the column so, two birds one stone. Anyways, he comes up and we have some wine and listen to some music. It was going really well so far. Then I go to bring out a nice charcuterie board for an appetizer while the pasta finishes baking. While I'm bringing it to him I can see he's on his phone, texting someone and literally giggling. I walk up behind him and he is sexting. On my couch!" you throw you hands up incredulously. "Well, I thought he was. He’s looking at a picture of some girl bent over then I realize it’s me. He took a picture of my ass, while I was making him dinner. I couldn't fucking believe it. What kind of a scumbag does that to a woman preparing a fucking meal for him? Now, this is not something I'm proud of so let the record show this is very out of character for me but these were extraordinary circumstances. So, I dropped the fig chutney on his head. Right in his stupid quaffed hair. He jumps up and he's all mad and starts yelling and I'm yelling back. He calls me a crazy bitch then I call him a perv. After that he left." you conclude with a shrug.

"Wow" Simon responds, truly taken aback by the series of events. 

"Yeah, then you know the rest from there. I don't know what came over me. I guess after my last breakup I haven't felt very good about myself and this guy made me feel, I don't know- fun? That feels silly to say. I should’ve known better from a guy that works the celebrity gossip section. I probably looked like a big baby out there, how dramatic. I'm sorry about that, again."

"You don't need to apologize."

"After I moved here I thought things would be different. I thought guys in the city were classier I guess. Turns out all guys are the same. Just take what they want and go. Do you want another drink?" You point to his now empty glass. 

"Sure." You snag his cup and stand. He watches you walk over to the counter in your silky slip dress. The sleek fabric clings to your waist. Flaring around your hips and down your thighs. The warm light reflects on the shiny material, shifting with each step you take. It tightens perfectly about your waist and cinched with a neat little bow in the back. He wonders why you would wear a dress like that for this guy.

"So, do you date?" you question in a seemingly casual tone.

"No" 

"Yeah right," you laugh and look over your shoulder to see his stoney expression and your smile fades. "Oh, sorry, I just- I find that hard to believe."

"Why is that?" He tilts his head and you focus back on filling his glass. 

"It's just, you're a good looking guy. I would think you'd get plenty of female attention," You pivot back around and place the glass before him. You lean on the table with one hand and prop the other on your waist. 

"'M not interested," his gaze stays fixed on the brown liquid, grabbing it and taking another sip. He doesn't miss the way you deflated the slightest bit. 

"Maybe I should take a page out of your book, as in maybe swearing off men completely" The oven timer dings. "Oh! pasta!" You jump over and grab your oven mitts. You drop the oven door and slide out the sizzling dish. An aroma of cheese and basil fills the air. Your stomach audibly growls.

You pull down two plates from your cabinet. You serve up the steaming pasta, sprinkling parmesan and fresh chopped herbs for garnish. You proudly carry over the two dishes and place them carefully on the table. You place your hands on your hips while gazing down at the platter.

"This looks...great." Simon is truly taken aback by the incredible looking dish. 

"Wait, don't eat yet. Let me get a picture." You scamper into your living room, grabbing your phone off the coffee table and scurrying back. You hold your phone high above for a birds eye view. Simon scoots his chair back to avoid the gaze of the lens. The camera clicks with a flash. You examine the photo, seeming satisfied with the quality and finally taking a seat in your own chair. "It was okay if you were in the picture. I don't mind." 

"I do," he says simply. 

To anyone else, Simon comes off as rude or callous but you, you never seem to let his shortness affect you. You take his words and just keep going. You don't mind his lack of conversation. It seems you are totally satisfied with having someone there to listen. He was starting to think he didn't mind listening so much. 

"Oh," You shift uncomfortably in your chair. "Sorry then. Well, let me know what you think. Try to be detailed with your feelings about it if you can. You're my guinea pig and be honest. I don't want to put this out when it's garbage."

He proceeds to take a forkful in his mouth. He cannot control the groan that escapes his throat as the bold flavor hits his tongue. This is far cry from his usual take away food. He can't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal now that he thinks about it. 

"This is quite good." He grumbled between bites. Not caring to finish chewing before he's stabbing at the pasta on the plate once again. 

"Really? You don't need to be nice to spare my feelings. I don't mind criticism."

He shoves more in his mouth. "I’m serious"

"Thank you" You giggle watching him scarf down the still steaming hot meal. 

The two of you finish your respective plates without much more conversation to be had. On your last few bites you meet Simon's eyes as he reclines back in the creaky wooden chair, hands laying across his stomach. His head tips back with a satisfied grumble making a proud smile play across your lips. This may be the first time you've seen him express a true human emotion in your presence. 

"There's more if you want?"

"No, I'm stuffed." 

If you know one thing as a part time chef, food is the way to a man's heart. You knew if Simon tasted what you could make his ice exterior would melt away. You stand up and walk to the fridge. 

"Too stuffed for dessert?" you pull out a glass bowl filled with layers of custard, strawberries, cake, and whipped cream. "I made a traditional English trifle. Y'know for the holidays coming up and who doesn't love custard?" you shrug while carrying the bowl over to the table. You hurry back to the kitchen to grab two saucers and plate up the dessert.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to butter me up." he comments, intently watching as you carefully slice through the layers. "What do you know about English food?" 

"Not much, which is why this is a special occasion. I can get some insight from a genuine Englishman," you slide the saucer to him. "Everything happens for a reason, I guess you were meant to be here tonight" you don’t realize how weird that comment is until it's already left your mouth. You suppress the feeling and internally cringe. You take a seat with your own plate and try a bite. "Hey, that's not too bad. I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud"

Simon actually chuckles when you compliment yourself making you giggle in return. This whole night is very different than you expected. Not that you were complaining.

Your leg bumps his underneath the narrow table. Your bare foot brushing up the edge of his pant leg for the briefest moment. A deep blush rises to your cheeks the second you realize it's his leg instead of the table's. 

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly draw your legs underneath your chair. Simon pauses his eating and meets your gaze. 

"S'alright," he slowly slides his long leg across the distance and nudges the shin of your tucked legs with the toe of his boot. "You scared?"

"What?" you allow your legs to relax, your calves sitting on either side of his outstretched leg. It felt natural, almost domestic. "You don't scare me." you're lying paired with an anxious laugh.

"No?" As he says this his foot shifts underneath the supports of your chair and yanks it forward causing your chair to skid a few inches across the tile, pressing you further into the table as you let you a surprised yelp. Hands brace against the edge of the table. Simon maintains his calm composure. "Are you sure?" he takes another bite of the fluffy dessert. 

You weren't sure if it was the liquor going to your head or the rush of adrenaline but you felt bold. You rest your cheek on your propped up hand, offering the most innocent eyes you can muster, as you delicately slide your foot along the smooth leather of his boot. Simon swallows and gently places his fork back on the table.

"What do you think of it?" you question in a hushed tone. your foot travels further up his ankle, dipping under his pant leg to feel his hot skin underneath. 

"It's sweet," He states simply but his words roll off his tongue smooth as butter. 

"Not too sweet?" You tilt your head the slightest bit.

"Hm," he hums in contemplation. Your eyes drift down to watch his hands grasp his drink. He grips the glass in his large palm. The rolled sleeves of his long sleeve reveal the muscles in his arm shifting when he raises the glass to his mouth. For the first time you notice a faint raised scar cutting through the outer corner of his lip and stopping just shy of the edge of his nose. He takes a long swig of the brown liquid, not quite finishing the drink. As he pulls back his lips glisten in the warm light. "Not bad when it's paired with a stiff drink," his tongue is quick to swipe across, collecting the residue. 

"I'll be sure to make a note of that." you smile sweetly. "Can I get you another drink?" You look down at the last sip coating the bottom of the glass. You make sure to flutter your lashes when you look back up at him. 

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" A smirk raises the corner of his mouth.

"No," you laugh. "Why, do you want me to?" 

He releases a deep gravelly laugh that makes your stomach stir. Then he glances at his watch and your stomach drops. 

"I need to get going." He mumbles. He pulls his leg away from yours and rises out of his chair. 

"Wait," you rush to stand, almost knocking your seat over in the process. "Can I- uh- get you a bit of pasta to go? There’s plenty left" Trying to think of any excuse to keep him here a moment longer. 

"S'okay, save it. Maybe I'll come by another time." He turns and steps out of your kitchen and into the hallway leading to your front door in only a few wide strides. 

"Are you sure?" You don't intend for your voice to come out as needy as it does. You follow on his heels like a lost puppy.

"I've got an early morning." Before he reaches the door he turns, seemingly surprised by how close you are to him. He looks down at your big round eyes. 

"Okay," you smile trying not to look defeated. "Well, you're welcome over anytime. I mean it, just knock and I'll probably be home. I'm gonna try writing at home more. Try to avoid that guy." You let out a halfhearted chuckle. "Maybe, you should get my number. Y'know, in case you want to check if I'm home."

"I'm alright, I'll just knock" His hand finds the doorknob. "Thanks for dinner, it was nice" Then he turns to go. Closing the door politely behind him. 

You rush to the peephole, watching his distorted figure step out of sight followed by the sound of his own door shutting. You rest your hot forehead against the cool wood grain of your door. 

You step back in the kitchen and begin putting away the leftovers. Piling the pasta into tupperware, rinsing the plates, collecting silverware. His glass remains in place with a sliver of scotch leftover. You hold the glass up in the light and see a faint smudge on its rim. You twist the cup around so your own mouth lines up with the imprint he left. You swallow the last bit slowly, savoring the way the sharp burn eases into a smooth, smoky aftertaste. You never liked scotch, but now you are starting to understand the meaning of an acquired taste.

The low atmospheric music is abruptly interrupted by an ad loudly cutting through the calm space. You rush into the living room to find the remote, hiding among the cushions and various throw pillows. Growing frustrated you end up walking over and manually hitting the power button. The silence that replaces it isn’t much better though. You step back and let your weak legs carry you until you collapse onto the comfort of your couch. The wine followed by the glass of scotch you polished off makes your head feel light but your limbs so heavy. You turn from your back to your side, realizing the used glass is still clutched in your hand. 

You reach across the gap and set it down on the coffee table with a thud. Your hand retreats back to rest under your head. You stare at it, taking in all the imperfections left on its reflective surface. Your eyes trace the rim once again looking for the smudge. On the corner you see the shadow of an impression peeking out underneath the red lipstick mark you have smeared over it. 

𝜗𝜚

Across the wall Simon falls back on his own couch. He looks around his dull apartment wondering what you have done differently to make your place look so welcoming. He never minded the minimal decorations he had. A photo frame with his team that his buddy gifted him and a couple of books always seemed like enough. After comparison though it just feels empty. 

He can hear you stomp across your floor. Footstep rushing from the kitchen until you're straight ahead. The sound of your TV turning off bathes the room in sudden silence. Only thing he can hear now is the rushing of his air conditioning unit. He considered your music annoying but now he couldn’t deny the way it added an unconscious energy to the small unit. Now sitting here, the cool tone of the overhead kitchen light illuminating into the living room he feels as though something is missing. Maybe a nice lamp would help. 

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

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ﾒ𝟶

[maitanii]

IT WASN'T LOVE. He wasn't in love. Ran Haitani, definitely, wasn't in love.

However, as his finger scrolled through the phone screen each night, attempting to delete some blurry photos where only the outline of a smile was discernible, laziness conveniently took hold, allowing those files to continue occupying space on the phone.

On closer inspection, you're not that pretty. He wouldn't even say you're pretty, just an ordinary girl. Those five freckles scattered across your cheeks aren't that beautiful, even though they reminded him of the constellations Rindou always points out when they travel to the countryside. The poorly painted nails, slightly bitten at the corners, are just another sign that you're a mess, although he always brings a nail file for you to use. And the small chip in your front teeth? Nothing out of the ordinary, but he was with you when the fall happened (and watched you cry yourself to sleep while holding you on the couch).

"Are you listening to me?"

"Loud and clear."

"Right." Returning to spear the fork into the salad, you made sure not to pick any tomatoes. Those were left for Ran. "When is the fight?"

"Tomorrow." Reaching for his cutlery, he began to stab at his food. "Are you worried?" he commented before starting to chew.

"Don't talk with food in your mouth, pig." Placing your face in your hands, you turned your head to look out the window.

"Okay."

The red lights from the opposite building reflected on your forehead. In just a minute, Ran had noticed you had gotten new highlights in your hair. He also spotted the small pimple that had popped up near your chin and the poorly applied concealer on it. The tension in your shoulders. And that you didn't want to look him in the eyes.

"What time is the fight tomorrow?" you asked as Ran's slender fingers played with the engraving on the fork.

Ask me not to go.

"At seven. But South always asks us to arrive earlier. Should we order dessert?"

Ask me not to go.

"Okay."

Come on, ask me not to go.

Taking his gaze away from some point on your face, he lowered his head. The ambient music in the restaurant slipped into the silence of the conversation. How could he fall in love with someone who worried about him getting hurt in a fight? Trust was the foundation of any relationship, right? Damn it.

The Mont Blanc and the cheesecake didn't last long on the table. In a fork battle, the desserts soon disappeared. Rindou had always suffered the consequences of stealing bites from his food, so why had he fought with you to accept eating the last piece of Mont Blanc?

"I have exams soon, and I'd like to get up early. Can you take me home?"

"Sure." Smiling, Ran thanked the waiter who cleared their plates (the first time he didn't thank him, you reproached him for it). "But you have to let me pay."

"No."

"Then I guess you'll have to walk home alone."

"No problem."

He sighed. Fighting was pointless. In all the years since your friendship began, you had never let him pay an entire bill. Not even when your ex-boyfriend left you and gave you several jars of ice cream could you avoid leaving some coins on a piece of furniture at his house. Or when he gave you that bouquet of flowers on Valentine's Day, and you left two boxes of chocolates on the backseat of the car.

The way back home was quiet. To no one's surprise, you chose the music, and he chose the topic of conversation. The guys from your economics class. The new mascara that didn't leave many clumps. The scholarship you had applied for months ago. He was so engrossed that he got distracted and ended up driving through several streets, prolonging the journey. Well, what a silly mistake.

"Thanks for bringing me home. And thanks for today." Raising your thumbs, you drew a slight smile on your face. "I needed to get out for a while."

"I know, you took too long to respond to my messages."

"I always do that."

"Not to an invitation to have dinner at your favorite restaurant."

"You know me so well." Pinching his cheeks between your fingers, you watched as he squinted his eyes.

Closing the car door, Ran watched as you began to search for the keys to the gate in your bag. Taking out his phone, he checked the messages he had received during dinner. Two taps on the door prevented him from replying to the meme Rindou had sent him. Your perfume once again invaded the interior of the car.

"Ran." The concern in your voice made him immediately turn his head. "I know it's a lot to ask, but please try not to go to the fight tomorrow. You can come up with any excuse and come to my house. But please, don't go."

A smile began to slowly form on his face.

He wasn't in love. But when he got home and wrote a message to South saying he had a fever, he had done it with immense joy in his heart. And when he went to bed and looked at the photos he never deleted from his gallery, he would write again in his notes the places he wanted to take you. But he wasn't in love because what he felt was beyond any of that."

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Ok ok. I'm back from the dead, And with another headcannon! following my last music related ask

What if after the characters hear our music they start subconsciously humming, or even singing it? After all the creator never has their computer volume on... exept this time we do! And we hear venti, or Barbara, or another character singing our favorite song A LOT. So much so that instead of the usual voices it's all song references and lyrics... I imagine it going something like this:

(venti dies) "don't worry... I'm never going to let you down.."

OR

(Barbara's afk) "la- La- LA- ehem, I'm working late because I'm a singer~"

Well a long night of trying to find out if it was an event mihoyo planned or something else is surely waiting right?

- 🦇

OMG HI 🦇 ANON HRUUUU

Dwdw, Ghost Rebel's been dead as well—you have not been the only one, rest assured 🥲

For this request, I won't be really focusing much on what music the Reader listens to (entirely up to you imo), so apologies if this affects your reading experience!

(The Request 🦇 Anon Mentioned)

Ayo, They Know My MUSIC ✨😎

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Who would've thought that all that singing pays off—now, all musicians and bards of Teyvat are reciting Their Almighty Grace's ballads like they're some holy, ancient harmonies (to them, it probably is—somehow—)

Let's see what our favorite ones have been up to! :D

Venti

With the amount of times you vibed to your songs, Venti's picked them up by listening through the wind. You can 100% assume that he is vibing to it, no matter what time or moment.

People thought he was singing his own ballads when he was humming your songs, when, in fact, he's listening to you jamming out in the distance.

So imagine your shock when you hear Venti sing your song. It was as shocking as Venti without his wine.

"Hehe~ Their Grace looks so flabbergasted!" Venti in the bg just cheering over the fact he made you shocked at his impression of your song!

Bro has zero regrets for breaking the Fourth Wall.

Barbara

Girlie is singing her heart out in the Church of Favonius, and everyone's there for it. 100% she has become the true Idol of Mondstadt.

Super excited and nervous at the same time when you put her in your party team (for whatever reason, only you will know), because this is a chance to show off her practice. She wants to impress you with the song she's heard you sing and hum to countless of times!

So the moment she let it slip through her idle animation, imagine her embarrassment as you flip out, questioning your life choices and your sleep deprivation

"S-Surely, I didn't scare Their Almighty Grace all too badly...?" Barbara's twiddling her fingers, contemplating if she should've done that in the first place, only to be reassured when the other nuns of the church mention that you were screaming how good it was (Ex. "HELLO???? BARBARA???? THAT WAS SO GOOD HELLO??? VOICE ACTOR BE POPPING OFF MAYBE??? THIS GLITCH IS AWESOME!")

Yes, she's doing this again. Add her back to her team. Now. :)

Xinyan

Oh, she is going to rock'n'roll hard after this. She is definitely going to make a rock cover of your song and play it all through Liyue!

Gurl's on her merry way, practicing with her guitar and singing loud and proud! Yunjin be cheering her on in the background as she masters that small snippet of your favorite song >:D

And when it's her time to shine? When you finally give her the chance to perform? Sure, she's nervous—she's only got one shot, and who knows when the next one will come—but she's gonna rock this song with everything she's got, heart, soul, and mind!

The moment you see it happening, Xinyan's a little too into it to care of your reaction at first, pretty much having a blast at the lyrics and overall music composition.

But after? "Whoo, I sure hope Their Grace liked it...Maybe I should've taken in how they were reacting instead of going all out, hehe..." Her legs are kind of shaking from her nerves, but she swears she's fine!

Upon seeing how the citizens of Liyue Harbor are acting though, and with the amount of positive comments her friends kept giving her, Xinyan is calling her performance an absolute success!

She is definitely doing this again—10/10!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: THIS TOOK TOO LONG TO MAKE I AM SO SORRY UGHHHH. I hate it when I say I'd be active and then the next thing I know, I'm being bombarded with irl problems >:(

Anyways! A few updates as I'm writing this: I am no longer taking Sagau Genshin requests for now (even if I might still be writing for a few—there's some waiting in my inbox that I gotta get to), as I need a break to recharge my batteries. However: HSR and Wuthering Waves are free and up for requests, so don't be shy to shoot your shots there!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[marvelouslizzie]

Why Are You Doing This To Me?

summary: Your ex-boyfriend Bucky Barnes wrote two songs about (for) you and you don’t know what to do.

pairing: Ex!Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

warnings: Angst, a past failed relationship, pettiness, jealousy, anger, a lot of emotions, no mention of y/n.

word count: 2.3K

A/N: I have been away for a while because I was busy learning another language aka Dutch. I still am but at least I am done with my big exam. As soon as I was done with it, I found myself writing again.

This is a random idea that just popped into my head while listening to music and taking a walk. Pure angst for some reason. Usually, I go for smutty ideas but bear with me.

>> indicates incoming messages and << indicates outgoing messages in this story.

Thank you @notafunkiller for proofreading and editing this so fast ❤️

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Keep reading tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

>> Hey! I know you don’t want to hear anything about Bucky, but I think you should check these out. I think he wrote these songs for you.

Two links from Spotify follow the text you received from one of your best friends, and you stare for a while, trying to decide what to do. You really don’t want to hear his voice. Not because you don’t like his singing or his songs, but you wanted to get back on your feet. It would be impossible if you kept listening to his songs. Besides, hearing his voice has always softened you. And your best friend knows this. She knows a lot about your relationship, how everything went down, and how you two eventually broke up. If she didn't think you should listen to these songs, she wouldn't be sending you these links, right?

You take a deep breath and click on the first link. The song starts to play, and you notice the soft vibe right away. It’s not particularly Bucky’s style. He sounds like he’s in pain but he's singing with such clarity that surprises you.

He talks about how much he regrets the things he didn’t do when he was with you. How he misses you so much every day. How much he wants to call you, but he’s afraid that you won’t pick up the phone or worse, you will talk to him like a stranger. He says he always knew how precious you were, yet he took you for granted.

The lyrics flow flawlessly. It sounds like poetry to your ears. The way he expressed himself so beautifully… You can’t believe he wrote such a heartfelt song about you, and it’s not even his style. He’s a freaking rockstar. He usually writes about sex, rock and roll, and drugs. Not feelings. Then the song finally reaches the chorus and his words make you freeze. 

“You are the love of my love.”

Did he really just say that? Did he just call you the love of his life? You feel this rush of emotions, and it’s hard to distinguish what you are actually feeling. It makes it harder to think, harder to focus on anything else other than the fact that this song is for you. That’s when you notice the name of the song. It’s the Love of My Life.

Suddenly, you start to feel angry. Every other emotion just takes a backseat. You hate him. So fucking much! Why is he always like this? Saying everything a little too late. Was it so hard for him to tell you this when you wanted to find just one reason to stay with him? You begged him to communicate with you maybe a million times. He always said it was not easy for him to put his feelings into words. Good or bad. It didn’t matter. He always struggled with his emotions. You tried your best. You tried to show him that he could trust you, that you would always be there for him, but it didn’t matter in the end. You felt like you were the only one trying to make this relationship work.

That’s when you decided to give up. It felt like he just didn’t care enough. He didn’t put any effort into changing things or making you feel like you weren’t just beating a dead horse.

You hoisted the white flag and moved on with your life. That’s when he decides to put whatever he feels into words. Instead of talking to you, he makes a song about it. Then he puts it out into the world. 

What a fucking asshole!

It takes you a while to realize the song is over as the silence fills the room. As much as you hate how he chose to do this, the silence disturbs you. It might be a little too late, but you still want to hear what he has to say. Your own rules about not listening to any of his songs instantly go out the window.

You open the messaging app and click on the second link. This one sounds a little bit more like his usual style. The name of the song though, instantly catches your attention this time. It’s one of the nicknames he used often for you. 

He starts the song by saying that he knows how selfish he is. That he has no right to feel this way, but he just saw you with someone else and he hated how it made him feel. He talks about how jealous he is. How he can’t help but imagine you in that guy’s arms. Then he realized you might call him baby, just like you used to call him. Then he continues by begging you not to call him baby, how he wants you to save that pet name for him even though he’s not in your life anymore.

There are so many details throughout the song that indicate he’s talking about you, there is no mistaking. He calls you by your nickname, saying how he loves the way you talk passionately about your interests, how compassionate you are, and how much effort you put into maintaining your relationship but he was too stupid and pathetic to appreciate them.

Every word that comes out of his mouth makes you even angrier. How dare he? How dare he write a song like this for you? After everything you have been through, after all the effort you put into your relationship, after every heartbreak… He realizes how much he values you just because he saw you with someone else.

Selfish bastard!

He has no right to put these words out there. He has no right to feel jealous. You are not his anymore. You can call someone else baby if that’s what you want. How dare he try to dictate to you like this? It makes you wanna call someone up and go out on another date and call him baby, just in spite.

The problem is, it’s just your stubborn nature talking. Before this song, you didn’t even think about calling someone else baby. You didn’t feel like it. Subconsciously, you were reserving that pet name for him. And that fucker knew it. He just knew it!

You exhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down. The song is over, but you can still hear him singing in your head. The song is so beautiful. Petty but so fucking beautiful. He sounds like he poured his heart out without caring how vulnerable it makes him look. 

Another deep breath, you try to understand which date he is talking about. You have been on a couple of dates since you two broke up. You were so dedicated to moving on. You didn’t care if it would hurt him. Because he didn’t care about how much he hurt you all those times you tried your hardest to make things work. So you went out with a couple of gentlemen. Some of them were decent, and some of them were downright horrible. Dating is just as tedious as you remembered. A lot of assholes out there who don’t care who they are hurting. You didn’t get hurt, though. You didn't care enough about any of them to give them the power to hurt you.

Then it finally hits you. He’s talking about your date with that motherfucking movie star! That one was big news for a while. You got photographed two, maybe three times together.

You really looked like you were having fun in those photos. Truthfully, you were, he was such a funny guy. He knew how to make fun of himself. You were just so tired of pretentious asses. It was refreshing. That’s why you said yes to a second and a third date. Then he was off to a European country to shoot his next movie. You had a fun and it was more than enough for you. 

You precisely remember that tabloids started to talk about how perfect you two were for each other. God, that must have gotten under his skin. You can’t help but laugh. He’s so predictable. He just couldn’t bear to see you with someone else, but can you blame him?

You remember seeing something similar about him, but in that case, he wasn’t on a date with the girl. They were just working together for some lame-ass project he would normally despise. Maybe he was trying to keep himself busy, who knows? You remember so vividly how she was looking at him like she wanted to eat him up. As if that wasn’t enough, she kept praising him, calling him the best rockstar of the century just to get in his pants. You have no idea if it worked or not, but it was enough to make you feel jealous. So can you blame him for feeling the same?

It just makes you realize you want to listen to those songs again. It’s maybe too little too late but you still want to hear him. You wanted him to talk about his feelings for such a long time and he’s finally doing it. Through a song but still, he’s doing it. It isn’t exactly communicating because communication must be two-sided, right? That’s what was missing in your relationship. You were talking, pleading, trying while he was keeping everything in. You feel like the roles are reversed. Now he’s the one talking, pleading, and trying, and you just don’t know what to do. How the tables have turned.

The second time around, you notice other details you missed the first time. Like peaceful walks you took together whenever you had the time or how you always used fake names when you two traveled together. You can’t help but miss those days. Even though you had problems, being with him always felt so safe and peaceful. You have no idea how he managed to make you feel that way. Maybe that’s why it took you so long to end the relationship. You still miss the way you felt back then. As if you two could overcome anything together, yet you couldn’t. Because you didn’t work together. You were alone, struggling to make him talk.

Then he talks about how he still speaks to your friends, and that makes him miss you even more. That part surprises you because none of your friends mentioned that they were still seeing Bucky. Is that because you didn’t let them ever talk about him? You feared if you let yourself talk or think about him, you would go back to the point zero.

He ends the song saying he doesn't want you to be a distant memory, and this sticks with you. Do you want him to be a distant memory?

The second time you listen, you notice how desperate he sounds. The way he pleads doesn’t anger you anymore. You find something you feel in his words. Your own fears, your own selfishness and oh, how much you miss him. You didn’t let yourself admit that you miss him. You thought acting like he never existed, he was never a part of your life would make everything easier and it did. Just for a while. Lately, it was just a burden. You tried so hard to keep everything inside. Just like he did. You are still trying to do it… to act logically, not emotionally. Does it mean you are making the same mistake he did? Shutting yourself down, not talking about your feelings. Is it the solution or is it a part of the mistake? You can’t tell anymore. You just know that your heart is aching. The sound of his voice makes you want to cry.

God, you hate him so much!

How could he do this to you after all this time?

Is it that easy to get under your skin or was he always there?

You feel like you are about to explode because of all the emotions you are going through. On one hand, Bucky communicating with you is everything you wanted. On the other hand, isn’t it too late? And why did he write not one but two songs about you? Declaring his love to the world…

You repeat that last bit in your head. He’s declaring his love to the world.

He’s no longer afraid to talk about his emotions. He wants you to hear them, millions of other people are just the bonus. He’s not afraid to show how fucking miserable he feels. He just wants you back.

He’s doing his bit in communicating, but unless you don’t do something about it, it won’t matter. It will be another attempt in vain. You aren’t sure if you want to repeat the same pattern. You notice the song is over when your phone chimes. It’s your best friend again.

>> Did you listen?

<< Yeah.

>> How are you feeling?

<< Confused.

<< Are you still talking to him?

>> Yeah we all are.

<< Why didn’t you tell me that?

>> You said you didn’t wanna hear anything about him and we just respected your decision.

Just like you thought. You can’t blame them. Anytime someone mentioned anything remotely related to Bucky, you either changed the subject or found a reason to leave. So you can’t help but wonder…

<< How is he doing?

>> Not great. He misses you.

<< I miss him too.

>> Are you gonna call him?

You look at the message for a long minute. Are you gonna call him? That’s the question. Maybe you should. Maybe you shouldn’t. Both of the options sound equally wrong. You have no idea what to do.

<< I don’t know what to do.

>> Just give him a call. He’s the love of your life.

You have no idea how long you have looked at that text. Maybe for a couple of minutes, maybe for an hour. 

He’s the love of your life.

He’s a bastard, but he really is the love of your life.

And you are the love of his life.

Where do you go from here? You look at your phone once again. You finally know what to do.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

loml

Request: absolutely need u to write a fic about roy kent’s controversially young ex gf writing so long, london about him and the teams reaction to the realization. happy ending or not 👀

Roy Kent x Popstar

1.7k words

Warnings: Language, angst, age gap, did I mention angst?

A/N: It's been a minute since I posted anything! This definitely put me deep in my feelings, not gonna lie. Enjoy all the emotions 😝

Roy clenched his jaw as he rounded the corner to head towards the changing room and his office. There wasn’t the usual ruckus that greeted him before training; instead, he followed the sound of what he realized was music. And it wasn’t the usual rap or energetic pop the lads usually blasted and sang along with, either. No, this was slow, haunting, something that left Roy tightening his grip around his black duffel bag.

Thinkin, how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

Oh, the tragedy ...

So long, London

You'll find someone ...

The breath caught in Roy’s throat as he came to a skidding stop outside the changing room door. He knew that voice. He’d heard that voice humming in his kitchen. Giggling in his ear. Whispering into his chest. Sighing in his bed. For almost two years, that voice had filled his home and his heart, bringing warmth and joy to both places. And the lips that voice came from always formed the most beautiful smile, the smile he always wanted to kiss right off that pretty face- and fuck, he sure tried his best every chance he got.

Gritting his teeth, Roy took one step into the changing room, doing his best to ignore the immediate stares of his squad. He hated the looks on their faces, all filled with sympathy, reminding him way too much of the faces he saw after his retirement. He swore he saw guilt in some of their expressions, too.

Of course they felt guilty. They’d been caught listening to his ex-girlfriend’s new album. The album that had skyrocketed to the top of the charts since its release over the weekend. The album Roy couldn’t quite bring himself to listen to yet. The album, he knew, that she had written about him.

Refusing to meet anyone’s eye, Roy stalked into his office, closing the door firmly behind him. Beard and Nate were nowhere to be found; they were probably on the pitch, he reasoned. He ignored the feeling that they’d probably want to give him some space with the album’s release.

Everything had started off innocently enough. He’d taken Phoebe to one of her concerts, motivated purely by his desire to be a good uncle. Keeley had been kind enough to arrange a meet-and-greet before the show. And, while Pheebs was definitely thrilled to be meeting the popstar, it was Roy who was left completely starstruck. She was beautiful and charming, not to mention down-to-earth and so kind to his niece. He spent the whole concert enchanted, jaw slacking slightly as he watched her strut around the stage with a magnetism he wasn’t sure he’d ever encountered before.

Fuck the almost two decades between them; Roy Kent was smitten.

Apparently the feeling was mutual, because the next thing he knew he and Phoebe were invited backstage after the concert, where the young singer had shyly thanked them for coming and asked if she could come watch the Greyhounds sometime. She was so timid for someone who had just rocked a stadium filled to the brim with thousands of screaming fans; Roy found her bashful, blushing face nothing short of endearing. How could he ever say no to her?

So he didn't. For two years, he never said no to her. He wanted to adore and spoil her the way no one else ever had, and she let him. The only condition was he had to let her do the same. So, for the first time in goodness knows how long, Roy Kent let himself be loved.

It was perfect. She was perfect. Roy found himself laughing and smiling more than he ever had in his entire miserable life, and it was all her fault. Never mind the articles and tweets about their age difference, condemning him for being with what they called a “twenty-year-old girl”. (They never could differentiate between twenty and mid-twenties, Roy had thought as he rolled his eyes at yet another opinion piece about his relationship.) They had both agreed that the abundance of affection and respect between them was more than enough to ignore what she always called the “haters”, and he called “wankers with nothing better to do”.

After about a year together, Roy found himself thinking about houses. And rings. And babies. And forever. And less and less about their age difference. While he never said flat-out that he wanted to marry her, they both seemed to know where things were headed. And, thanks to her songwriting, so did her fans. Not that Roy minded; for once, he was in a relationship where he didn’t mind having his business paraded around for the world to see. Hell, he even did some of the parading from time to time.

But, like every other good thing in Roy Kent’s life, it didn’t last forever.

He could deal with the judgy headlines. He could deal with the invasive paparazzi. He could deal with the ribbing from his friends and family. He could even deal with being the subject of pretty love songs. But just as he was starting to look at engagement rings, an article came across his newsfeed. And this one, unlike the million others he’d ignored and rolled his eyes at, gave him pause.

It was about her. It was about how young she was, how in the prime of her career she was. About how Roy was going to tie her down and take her out of the spotlight. About how she could say goodbye to the already legendary career she’d spent the better part of a decade building. About how all that hard work, all that potential, would be swept away the moment he put a ring on her finger.

About how it would be all Roy’s fault.

He couldn’t do that. Not to her. So, he made up some shit about not being ready to settle down, about how he didn’t think marriage was for him, about how he didn’t want to waste her time. And she’d listened, with those understanding eyes and her mouth in a straight line. While she wasn’t afraid to shed a couple of tears in front of him, she didn’t shout or fight him. All she did was lean close and ask one little question:

“Are you sure?”

No. No, Roy wasn’t fucking sure. He had never been less sure in his entire fucking life. As she gathered her things in stony silence, Roy had to stop himself from telling her to stop, that he’d made a mistake and that of course he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But, like the idiot he was, he just watched silently. And he watched as she disappeared from the public eye, as the papers reported their breakup, as she reemerged at the fabulous parties thrown by her fabulous friends, as her outings with various men sparked rumors of new romances; in short, Roy watched as she moved on from him.

And now, a little less than a year after their breakup, with the release of this new album, he was sure she’d cemented how over him she was.

Despite knowing he had a football team waiting out on the pitch, Roy decided he needed to listen. To one song, at least, he reasoned with himself as he opened the music app on his mobile. Beard and Nate could handle the team for a few minutes, couldn’t they?

As he skimmed the track titles, he spotted one that caught his eye: So Long, London. He’d heard that phrase in the song the guys were playing; surely this had to be the same song, right? With a trembling breath, he clicked on the song and closed his eyes.

I stopped trying to make him laugh.

I stopped CPR, after all it's no use. The spirit was gone, we would never come to.

And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.

I'll find someone.

Just how low did you think I'd go?

You swore that you loved me but where were the clues? I died on the altar waiting for the proof.

For so long, London… Had a good run… A moment of warm sun… But I'm not the one.

Every word stabbed at the heart Roy hadn’t realized was still so fucking raw. All that regret that he’d buried away under football and bottles of beer finally bubbled back to the surface, reminding him of how deeply he wished he could go back in time and stop himself from letting her go. He somehow felt even more gutted than he did the day he lied and said he didn’t want to be with her anymore.

“Fuck,” he growled, stopping the music and opening his texts. He typed that familiar name, pulling up texts that he hadn’t looked at in months. He gulped, remembering all the memes, all the texts about what to have for dinner.

She’d probably ignore his text, he warned himself as he started typing. Hell, she probably already had him blocked. Part of him hoped she did; it would be a lot better than the absolute dressing down he deserved after breaking her lovely heart.

Still. That stupid little part of him that was willing to admit that he was still completely in love with her emboldened him.

She’d always made fun of him for signing his texts, he recalled with a reflexive smirk. She’d made fun of him for lots of things; fuck, he missed her teasing, the way she’d raise an eyebrow when he growled at her to fuck off. The way she’d lean close and hum, “Make me.” The way-

Hey, just listened to ‘London’. Incredible as always. I’m sure the rest is too.

-Roy

The whistle from the mobile in his hand dragged Roy out of his reminiscing. With another gulp he looked down at the first message she’d sent in months.

Thanks, Roy! I’ll actually be in London next week. Maybe we could catch up while I’m in town.

Despite himself, a smile broke out across his face. He wasn’t much of a believer in second chances, or fate, or happily ever afters. He was so sure all good things had to come to an end eventually.

But maybe, just maybe, some things could begin again.

Tags: @i-am-mrsreckless